A/N: Thanks for the lovely comments. It makes me glad I did go ahead and write this story!

CHAPTER 4

Malcom, sitting on the edge of the biobed, held as still as humanly possible as Phlox worked on removing the bandages. He was very aware of the scissors snipping away, the raspy "snick, snick" of the blades uncomfortably close to his ear. There was a slight tug on his head after each cut as Phlox repositioned the scissors. His heart was pounding so loudly he was surprised the doctor couldn't hear it.

"I'm going to peel away the outer bandaging," Phlox said. "There are pads on your eyes. Please do not make any sudden movements or try to dislodge the pads."

Malcolm almost nodded but caught himself. He swallowed nervously. "Of course, Doctor."

He hadn't been able to eat this morning, telling himself that later he would enjoy being able to see what he was eating. But he knew he was fooling himself as to the reason he had no appetite. In reality, he was so anxious about the outcome of this moment that he wouldn't have been able to eat even if he'd wanted to.

He wished Phlox would hurry up. A week in darkness had been a terribly isolating experience. He needed to know whether he could see. Granted, if he could return to his duties, it would be with a sense of needing to redeem himself after that terrible fiasco of an upgrade test. But, if he couldn't see, he'd have to return to Earth, no doubt with his career in Starfleet over. As far as he knew, there were no blind personnel in Starfleet security. You had to be able to see to hit a target.

He couldn't imagine what he would do if he wasn't in Starfleet. All week he had been trying to avoid thinking about that possibility. Now that it was time to find out his fate, it was all he could do not to reach up and rip off the bandaging.

"I'm removing the outer layers," Phlox said. "Please tilt your head back slightly."

Malcolm complied, puzzling over this last instruction. But after Phlox had taken off the wrapping, he realized the pads might have fallen off if he hadn't tipped his head back. He was glad there was no one else in sickbay. He must look like he was undergoing some bizarre treatment at a spa with medical pads instead of cucumber slices over his eyes.

He heard the whirr of a hand-held medical scanner. No doubt the doctor was running a more detailed examination of his eyes, but it seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time.

"Doctor?" he asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

"Just checking something, Lieutenant. I'm going to remove the pads. Please keep your eyes closed after I remove them."

The light weight of the pad on his left eye was removed, followed a moment later by the one on his right eye. Phlox's breath brushed across his face. The doctor was probably looking at his eyelids and the area around them. He'd been told he'd been burned there, but he'd been so doped on painkillers that he hadn't felt any discomfort from it.

"The skin has healed nicely," Phlox said. "There's no scarring. Now, lower your head to a normal position and open your eyes."

Those last three words were what Malcolm had waited all week to hear. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids felt like they were gummed together. He wound up opening his eyes very quickly, only to blink repeatedly as the gummy sensation persisted.

"I'm assuming you have the lights dimmed," Malcolm said, still blinking, trying to clean the gunk out of his eyes. "It's very dark in here."

Phlox didn't answer. There was a click, then Malcolm felt something on the skin of his face that he could only describe as warmth. Knowing that Phlox was standing close to him, he wondered if it was the Denobulan's body heat he was noticing.

"Doctor?" he asked anxiously. "What's going on?"

"I'm looking into your eyes with an optical light," Phlox said in his most professional tone. "Please, Lieutenant. Keep your head still. Tell me what you see."

"Nothing. Everything's black."

"No variations in the degree of blackness? No light spots or gray areas?"

"There's nothing!" Malcolm could hear the rising hysteria in his own voice but was powerless to stop it. "No light spots, no variations -- nothing! What's wrong with my eyes?"

Malcolm reached out, flailing wildly to grab Phlox's arm, needing to find some sort of anchor to keep him from falling into what felt like a yawning abyss. His fingertips brushed fabric, and he grabbed hold.

"Lieuentant, calm down," Phlox said, and a hand covered Malcolm's where he was grasping the doctor's sleeve. "It may be that there is some residue built up on the surface of your eyes. Let me get the eye wash."

Malcolm tried to clamp down on his foreboding, and reluctantly released his grip. He heard Phlox move off a few paces, followed by some rattling noises. The doctor must be retrieving the eye wash from a tray nearby.

The doctor returned and said, "Tilt your head back again, please. ... Open your eyes as wide as you can."

Malcolm flinched as cold liquid splashed into his left eye. He involuntary blinked several times and felt some of the liquid spill out the corner of his eye. He couldn't see any improvement, but maybe the wash took a few moments to work. A soft cloth was pressed into his hand and he automatically used it to wipe the overflow.

"Now the other eye," Phlox said.

The procedure was repeated with the same result.

"Doctor?" Malcolm asked as fear tied itself into a knot in the pit of his stomach. He was still in total darkness. He heard Phlox inhale deeply, and Malcolm's gut tightened even more.

"To answer your earlier question," Phlox said gravely, "the lights are not dimmed. They are at their full brightness. To answer your other question...I don't know what is wrong with your eyes. The scans indicate they have healed properly. You should be able to see."

"You mean I'm blind?" Malcolm demanded, becoming more agitated. "I thought you said there was only a small chance I wouldn't be able to see?"

"Yes, I did say that, but in regard to the physical damage sustained by your eyes. They have healed properly," Phlox said, the first crack in his professionalism revealed as voice became louder. "I'll need to run some more tests."

"I don't want tests!" Malcolm yelled, trying to throw off Phlox's hand which had come to rest on his shoulder in what he supposed was meant as a calming gesture. He didn't want to calm down. He wanted answers. "My eyes are healed, you said. I want to know why I can't see!"

A cold, metallic point touched his neck and he heard the distinctive hiss of a hypospray. He belatedly realized that Phlox must have picked up a sedative at the same time as he'd gotten the eye wash from the tray. The doctor must have known then that something was wrong.

He was dimly aware of Phlox helping him lie down on the biobed before his mind joined his eyes in the darkness.

Malcolm woke with much the same disorientation as when he had regained consciousness after the explosion, but whatever Phlox had given him apparently was working. He felt calm -- almost unnaturally so. As was typical these past few days, his hearing alerted him that he was awake. He lay unmoving on the biobed, unwilling to open his eyes and face the reality of his sightlessness, as he listened to a hushed conversation taking place a short distance away.

"I do not believe there is a physical reason for Lieutenant's Reed's condition," he heard Phlox say.

"You're sure?" came another voice that Malcolm identified as the captain's. "Couldn't it have something to do with his concussion?"

"Blindness from a blow to the head usually is limited to the realms of fiction as a convenient plot device," Phlox replied dryly. "I did run scans to check the neurological connections from his eyes to his brain, and nothing appears amiss. In addition, the portion of the brain that receives and interprets the messages from the eyes also is undamaged."

Heavy footsteps sounded on the floor in a rhythmic pattern, moving away, returning, then moving away again. Malcolm visualized the captain pacing.

After a few moments, the captain spoke. "Then what else could it possibly be?"

"I believe it may be a case of functional blindness," Phlox said.

"Functional blindness? What's that?"

"It is a condition medically referred to as a conversion reaction to unpleasant circumstances which stimulate inner conflict. As is typical with functional blindness, Lieutenant Reed is exhibiting a complete lack of physical symptoms associated with blindness. He still has the blink reflex, his pupils dilate and contract depending on the level of light, and so on." Phlox paused. "In the past, this condition was referred to as hysterical blindness."

"So what are you saying, Doctor? Since there's no physical impairment to his vision, it's a mental condition?"

"Lieutenant Reed should be able to see, but there is a psychological factor or factors preventing him from doing so. It will have to be treated as such."

There was a noisy exhalation that could only have come from the captain. Malcolm had heard it often enough on the bridge when the captain's patience was being strained.

"Why would this happen?" the captain asked.

"The lieutenant is not doing it on purpose," Phlox said. "Apparently, he has some unresolved issues, most likely concerning the accident that injured him."

Unresolved issues! There was an understatement if Malcolm had ever heard one. The whole bloody accident had been his fault.

He stopped listening to the conversation as he mentally ticked off his transgressions. If he'd done his job properly, the ship's cannons would have been better than before. But instead, because of his carelessness, Enterprise was now handicapped in the fire-power department. The fact that the integrity of the hull in that area of the ship was now severely compromised was his fault, too.

But the bottom line was that the bandages had come off and, no matter what the reason, he was blind. There was no way he could resume his duties. Captain Archer would need to start looking for his replacement.

It was for the best, Malcolm told himself. The last thing Enterprise needed was an officer whose overwhelming arrogance in his abilities could damage the ship even further. Being unable to see was a small price to pay to keep that from happening.