A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry this chapter was a bit slow in coming. Just a few responses to my wonderful reviewers:

Libran Iniquity: I'm very sorry, but I have a plan for Ishran at the end, and he has to be alive for me to carry it out... but he does get his comeuppance, of sorts, in this chapter. Many thanks, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Tata: Sorry I took so long! Here it is!

JacobedRose: Well, read on and find out! Many thanks for your review.

Scifi-warper: The memory that Ishran 'hacked into' was about one of Malcolm's past dalliances... I'll leave you to figure the rest out. ;-)

tripbea: Why is everyone obsessed with killing Ishran? There is something called redemption, you know! But, then again...

Exploded Pen: You seriously think I'd kill Malcolm off? Oh... wait... I did that in another story! No, seriously, he's safe now. More or less, anyway...

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"Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn the power of man." William Shakespeare, "That Scottish Play".

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Chapter Nine

"Malcolm?" A voice was speaking to him, disturbing the rather comforting haze that surrounded him.

"Hmm?" Malcolm asked, not at all keen to awake from the rather glorious slumber. He hadn't felt this contented in weeks...

Then, unfortunately, he remembered what had preceded his rather sudden nap, and awoke with a start. He looked round, to find Trip holding onto his shoulder and supporting him. He was in sickbay, he realised dimly, looking around at the far-too-familiar room.

"Goodness." He muttered. "This place is getting to feel like home, I'm here so often!" He cracked a smile, trying to wipe that worried expression off Trip's face, but his friend's eyes were as serious as ever.

"What happened, Mal?" Trip asked, frowning in concern. Malcolm shot him a lop-sided grin.

"I was going to ask you the same thing, actually." He said lightly, but Trip just shook his head.

"You collapsed, Mal."

"Ah." Malcolm frowned. "In front of the MACO's?" Trip raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. One of them, anyway." He answered. Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"How damn embarrassing." Then he looked away so he would no longer have to look Trip in the face. There was no one else quite like Trip, he decided silently, who could see through him like he was a sheet of glass.

Glass is fragile. A little voice in his head mused. Trip looks at you and worries that you'll break. Since... The voice trailed away, uncertain of itself. Malcolm looked back up at Trip, this time making no pretence.

"Is Ishran still in the brig?" He asked, but Trip looked perplexed.

"Who?" He asked. Malcolm sighed – clearly, as Trip hadn't shared a 'telepathic bond' with Ishran, he wouldn't know his name.

"The Betazoid – the humanoid who arrived with the Xindi commander, Trip?" Trip nodded and Malcolm let out a sigh of relief. But he could still sense the Betazoid's presence, deep within his mind... would he ever find peace again?

"Yeah... Betazoid, did you say? Is that his species?" Malcolm nodded wearily.

"Yes, Trip... do you think I can leave Sickbay yet?" He asked, trying to keep his voice as light as possible. Trip looked around.

"I dunno, you should ask Phlox... wait." He stopped suddenly, looking at Malcolm suspiciously. "Why d'you want to know anyway? 'Cos if you're thinking of headin' down to the brig..."

"Fine." Malcolm muttered through gritted teeth, all the time thinking bloody Yank...

"D'you know why you collapsed, then?" Trip asked, disturbing his rather murderous thoughts. Malcolm looked up at the ceiling.

"No." He lied, his voice going rather high-pitched. Trip, despite himself, smirked.

"Oh, yeah?" He said, and Malcolm sighed.

"Well, not really... I do have an idea."

"Wanna talk about it?" Trip asked. Malcolm shook his head.

"Not really." He said again, and Trip nodded in understanding.

"Alright." He said, and silently the words but I'll be listening when you do passed between them. Then Malcolm stood up, steadying himself as a slight wave of dizziness passed over him. Trip watched him, his eyes narrowed.

"You're headin' for the brig now anyway, aren't you?" He said, but it was a statement, not an accusation. Malcolm nodded.

"Yes." And he walked out of Sickbay, knowing without even looking that Trip would be right beside him.

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Trip watched Malcolm carefully as they headed towards the brig. And with every step, he watched helplessly as yet another crack appeared in Malcolm's carefully-constructed armour. He wished he could do something to help his friend, but he knew that whatever demons Malcolm was fighting it had to be on his own.

When the reached the reinforced brig doors Malcolm stopped, his face ashen. The MACO guarding the door stared at him, but promptly dropped his gaze when Trip shot him a glare. Trip laid a hand on Malcolm's arm.

"Mal?" He asked softly, and Malcolm whirled round to face him, his eyes wide and unseeing.

"No!" He cried out, grabbing Trip's arm. He gazed wildly into the other man's eyes, and Trip saw once again the frightened, vulnerable young man he had seen on the biobed when Malcolm had first returned to Enterprise. "Don't – don't make me go in there... oh, Catherine..." Malcolm's eyes were no longer on Trip, but rather gazing sadly down at the floor. Trip gently disentangled his wrist from Malcolm's grasp and squeezed his hands.

"Alright. I'm not gonna make you go in there." Trip bit back the questions on his tongue. Who on earth was 'Catherine'? For lack of being able to do anything to help Trip glared once more at the MACO guard, who had been staring with unabashed curiosity at the exchange.

"You stick to guardin' that door, okay?" Trip growled, before turning back to Malcolm. The man had backed into a corner, and had his shoulders hunched and his hands up in defence. His eyes darted back and forth along the corridor. Trip stepped forward carefully, not even blinking when Malcolm flinched at the sound of his boot on the deck. He held out his hand.

"C'mon." Trip said softly. "Let's head to the mess hall." Malcolm stared at him, and for a moment Trip was sure he was going to refuse, but eventually he straightened up and cleared his throat.

"Alright." Malcolm said, his voice deceptively confident. Trip allowed him this small victory over his fear, and nodded as he stepped forward and began to walk back down the corridor, away from the brig. Trip glanced back at the brig door, hesitating. Malcolm stopped walking, and looked back at him in curiosity.

"Trip?" He asked, but the engineer bit his lip.

"Look, you head to the mess hall, I – I'll catch you up later, alright?" Trip looked back at the door. "There's somethin' I need to do."

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Ishran was rather enjoying his imprisonment onboard Enterprise. There was a young, somewhat 'green' crewman guarding him, and Ishran found that simply staring at the young man encouraged rather amusing reactions. The man stared up at the ceiling to avoid Ishran's gaze, and when that didn't work he stood up and began to pace. He kept glancing around and gesticulating with his hands as though he was swatting at bugs. Ishran could smell the discomfort of the man.

Then... what was that? Ishran cocked his head to one side, his sixth, additional sense at the ready. He could sense something... someone.

The human. Malcolm Reed... it had to be. Ishran's lips parted in a vicious smile. Now that he was out of the presence of that infuriating An'Din he had no shame. He sent out his message to the human: Get away or I will haunt you forever. Like your woman haunts your waking dreams...

Ishran's favourite part of any given 'interrogation' was the finding out of the patient's weaknesses. Often it was a person, a memory... and Malcolm Reed's weakness came in the form of the only woman he had ever truly loved. Ishran used this weapon viciously.

"What have you done to him?" An angry voice broke into his thoughts, and Ishran looked up in surprise to see that a tall, blond-haired human had entered the brig with him. He hissed in discontent as the door slid shut behind the human; he had been so intent upon taunting his prey that he had missed a chance to escape. He sneered.

"Why do you ask, human?" He asked, disliking the fact that the tall human did not even bat an eyelid at his threatening tone. He could soon change that... "Would you like me to show you?" He made a lunge for the human, but the man dodged him and shot him a hard glare.

"Oh no, you don't. I saw what you did to Malcolm." The human spat, and Ishran paused for a moment to sniff the emotions in the room. He could sense determination, righteous anger, and... what was that one? Unease? That emotion was his own.

He shook off the thought, not wanting the human to see his discomfort, and he sneered once more. The expression was one he had had a lot of time to practise at, whilst in and out of captivity and hiding from his people.

"You would do well to keep your distance then, human." He taunted. Trip glared at him, wishing he had a phase pistol on hand. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and stepped closer to the alien. But then, just like that, the Betazoid's well-schooled expression of distaste disappeared, to be replaced by an expression Trip knew all too well – it was the frightened, rabbit-caught-in-headlights expression he had caught on Malcolm's face countless times when the Brit had thought he wasn't looking.

Trip stepped back once more, confused, but the alien didn't seem to be looking at him at all. He was staring at the wall beyond, staring at demons visible only to himself.

The comm panel chirruped, and Trip moved to answer it.

"Cap'n?" He asked. Archer's voice filtered through. He sounded strained.

"You'd best come to the bridge, and bring the prisoner with you. We've been approached by a vessel claiming to be the security force of a planet called Betazed. They're here to take our 'passenger' to trial." Trip turned to the alien, and though he was not a malicious man by nature, he smirked. The man would finally receive his comeuppance.

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"Greetings." The woman said, bowing slightly to Archer. "I am Lieutenant Irania Chiz, of the security vessel 21-A."

"Imaginative name." Trip murmured to Hoshi, who coughed in an effort to dispel a laugh. The woman turned to him, her eyebrows raised.

"I doubt you would be able to pronounce the true name of the vessel even if I told you." She said simply, her eyes travelling up and down his figure, giving Trip the curious sensation of being under one of those archaic X-Ray instruments. The woman, though she looked humanoid enough, was notably alien. She let off a strange aura of calm understanding. But when she turned to Ishran, who was flanked by two MACO's and wearing an expression of abject fear and humiliation, her whole appearance hardened.

"Ishran." She said coldly, her voice icy, and then she fell silent. Trip stared at her for a moment, but then he realised that the Betazoid didn't need to voice her words aloud – the two were communicating silently. Eventually, she turned to Archer and bowed once more.

"I would like to meet the member of your crew – Malcolm Reed." She stated simply, awkwardly. Trip stepped forward, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"What, so you can finish what that man" – he glared at Ishran – "started?"

Irania Chiz held his gaze for a long moment, and Trip once again experienced that strange sensation of someone flitting through his consciousness. But, for all its strangeness, it was not an unpleasant sensation. Was this what Malcolm had experienced - ?

"No." Chiz spoke quietly. "Much worse." Silently, she spoke in his mind, I can help him. Will you let me?

Trip nodded.

"I'm comin' with you. He'll be in the mess hall." The woman – who was, he had to admit, quite lovely – nodded in agreement.

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Malcolm froze as the woman entered the mess hall. He was not facing the entrance, and her feet had moved silently on the deck, but he sensed her presence all the same. At first, he had thought she was like Ishran – wanting to destroy his mind – but then he felt her consciousness, like a sweet breath of warm wind, upon his own. Slowly, she caressed his wounds without ever touching him, and gently embraced him from across an empty room.

He let her in, closing his eyes as he at last experienced a resolution and peace he had thought he would never find. And as Phlox had sewn together his skin and washed away the bruises, so this woman knitted together the broken shell of his mind, laying to one side the cold, painful memories Ishran had disturbed and placing instead the warmer, softer thoughts at the top. She rested for a moment upon the memory of Catherine, the memory Ishran had employed as his sharpest weapon, and said it was not your fault. Malcolm breathed in deeply.

When she had finished, she stepped back, and Malcolm opened his eyes. Malcolm glanced at Trip, who was looking on in confusion, and smiled warmly.

"Commander." Malcolm nodded, the half-officious, half-teasing smile Trip knew, and had missed all too well, playing at his lips.

Trip returned the smile, gladly. Malcolm Reed was back.

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A/N: Please tell me what you think!