CHAPTER 14

EPILOGUE

Malcolm stepped into the mess hall. Before going over to the food cabinets, he took a moment to survey the room. Most of the tables were occupied, and he saw more than one person smile as they looked in his direction. Word apparently had spread about his sight being restored.

Embarrassed at being the object of so much attention, he went over to the cabinet and, turning his back on the mess hall diners, savored being able to see as well as smell Chef's offerings. Although the sweet and sour chicken had a tempting aroma, a thick steak caught his eye. He decided to take the steak, knowing he was going to relish seeing what he was cutting into. Stepping over to the next cabinet, he found a slice of pineapple upside-down cake. Perfect!

He went to the beverage dispenser, got a cup of hot tea, and turned around to face the room. No one was looking at him now except two people seated in the corner. With a smile, he walked over to them.

"May I join you?" he asked.

"We'd be upset if ya didn't," Trip replied genially.

"Please do," Hoshi chimed in. "What did Doctor Phlox say?"

Malcolm put his food on the table, sat down, and put a napkin on his lap before answering. "I've been given a clean bill of health," he said. "The doctor has cleared me for duty shifts, starting tomorrow morning. With the captain's permission, of course."

"That's wonderful!" Hoshi said.

Trip nodded in agreement, but he frowned as he looked at Malcolm. "Did Phlox figure out why you were able to see again all of a sudden?"

Malcolm shrugged as he cut into his steak. "As he pointed out to me on several occasions during the last few weeks, there was no reason that I couldn't see. No physical reason, that is. It was psychological." Malcolm shook his head in disgust. "Hysterical blindness, indeed."

"You are the least hysterical person I know," Trip said.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "I like to think so," he said.

"You got your sight back at the best possible time," Hoshi said. Raising a hand to touch the bruise on her head, she added, "The timing was impeccable."

Malcolm nodded as he chewed the first bite of his steak. He swallowed and said, "Phlox thinks our being boarded by intruders had something to do with it."

"How's that?" Trip asked.

"All along he's been telling me I could see," Malcolm said. "According to the doctor, sometimes that's all it takes in a situation like this -- telling the person he can see and -- voila! -- he sees again. But for some reason, that didn't happen." Malcolm lowered his voice as he looked away from the two curious faces staring at him. "Phlox believes that I had to prove to myself that not only did I need to see, my shipmates needed me to be able to see, too."

Malcolm looked down at his plate as he felt his face start to flush. He normally wasn't this open about his inner feelings. And there was no way he was going to tell them about Phlox's lecture on insecurity and the pitfalls of self-doubt and regret.

He glanced up to see both Trip and Hoshi smiling at him. He gave them an awkward half smile in return and cut another piece of his steak. Seeking to change the subject, he asked Hoshi, "What did Phlox say about that trophy you're sporting?"

"No concussion, thankfully," she said. "But it's embarrassing. I mean, how stupid was that? I ran into the ladder and knocked myself out."

"You couldn't see where you were going," Malcolm pointed out.

"Yes, but you didn't seem to have any trouble getting around Engineering," she said.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Malcolm said. "When I tripped on that intruder and you weren't holding on to me any more, I didn't know where I was at. I thought..."

He hesitated. He wasn't going to tell them that he'd experienced the most intense moment of doubt and self-recrimination he'd had since he'd been blind. Perhaps, at that moment when he felt helpless and everything was out of his control, his subconscious had decided it was time to quit wallowing around in his own pity and get back to the most important thing he could do -- protect his ship and his shipmates.

Trip and Hoshi were staring at him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't say anything, Trip asked, "You thought what?"

Malcolm shook his head. "Nothing. It's not important. ... Phlox also said that Ensign Welsh will recover. He'll have to spend about a week in sickbay." Glancing at Trip, he asked, "What happened to the other ship?"

Trip shrugged. "T'Pol said they took off like a scalded cat," he said. Seeing the surprised expressions on his companions' faces, he said with a grin, "Well, not in those exact words. It was something more like they 'abandoned their endeavor to take over Enterprise and left with all possible haste.'"

Hoshi laughed. "Thank goodness we have someone on board who can 'translate' T'Pol for us."

This time, it was a blush that spread over Trip's cheeks. Turning his gaze on Malcolm, he said, "I guess since you can see again, you won't have to be meditatin' with T'Pol any more."

The non-productive meditation sessions had been one of Malcolm's most frustrating experiences while blind. Remembering his futile attempts, but also unable to resist the urge to goad the engineer who had an off-and-on personal relationship with the first officer, Malcolm said with a straight face, ""It's not like we actually did any meditating."

Trip, in the act of swallowing some of his water, spluttered. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked suspiciously.

"Mr. Reed!"

The sound of the authoritative voice made all of them turn in the direction of the captain's private mess. Jon was coming out the doorway and headed in their direction. Malcolm hastily got to his feet as the captain came over to their table. "Sir?" he asked.

"I'd like to see you for a few minutes," Jon said. When Malcolm glanced down at his meal, he added, "Finish your dinner. I'll be in my dining room when you're done."

The captain walked away. As Malcolm sat back down, Hoshi said cheerfully, "He probably wants to tell you what a great job you did dealing with those intruders."

Malcolm looked at her and frowned. "Or what an arse I was to attempt taking on four hostile intruders when I couldn't see."

"Neither could the rest of us," Trip said. "You were the only one who was able to do anything. By the way, Travis told me it was your idea to have him fire the thrusters to make one of the intruders fall off the upper level walkway. How'd ya come up with that?"

Malcolm smiled smugly. "After the intruders disabled the engine, I remember thinking that at least we weren't being tossed around any more." He paused to give Hoshi a smile at the shared adventure. "And then I wondered -- if the warp engine was down, what was still working? I came up with the thrusters, which aren't tied into the main propulsion system, and which can do a little tossing of their own. After that, it just a matter of timing."

A short time later, Malcolm was finished with his dinner and went to the captain's private mess. He received permission to enter and walked in to find the captain seated at the head of the table.

"Please, sit down," Jon said him with a wave of his hand toward one of the other chairs.

Malcolm nodded brusquely and, still anticipating a dressing down for his perceived fool-hardiness in attempting to take on all the intruders by himself while blind, uneasily took a seat. He noticed that the captain's dinner plate had been cleared away and all that was left was a half-empty pitcher of iced tea and a glass.

"First," Jon said, "let me tell you how pleased I am that you've gotten your sight back. Although I'm probably not as happy about it as you are."

Malcolm, who had been keeping his eyes straight ahead, looked out the corner of his eye at the captain and saw him smile. One side of Malcolm's lips curved up in response.

"Phlox said your vision is back to what it was before the explosion with the phase cannon," Jon continued, "and there's no medical reason to keep you from getting back to work."

Malcolm sensed a "but" coming. There was a long pause, during which he fretted about what the captain would say next. He risked another sidelong glance at his superior and saw he was taking a sip from the glass of iced tea. The captain looked uncomfortable, which only increased Malcolm's apprehension.

Jon put down the glass and sighed. "I need to tell you something," he said, leaning back and clasping his hands on his lap. "It's only right to tell you."

Totally confused now, Malcolm asked, "What's that, sir?"

"When you first lost your sight, and Phlox told me that it was a psychological condition, and that you'd have to come to terms with whatever the underlying issues were before you could see again..."

"Sir?"

Jon picked up his glass but didn't take a drink. Instead, he turned it around in his hands, looking down at the tea as it swirled around the ice cubes. As he sat there waiting, Malcolm became aware that he was sweating.

"I'm afraid I made you the victim of an elaborate ruse," Jon said at last, looking up to meet Malcolm's questioning gaze. "It was my idea to tell you to deal with your blindness and that we wouldn't take you back to Earth right away. I was hoping to make you realize that you could see if you wanted to. I was trying to force you to deal with whatever it was that wouldn't let you see. At the worst, I thought maybe if you got so frustrated at not being able to do things for yourself, it would somehow make your sight come back." He laughed in self-derision. "Pretty lame idea, huh?"

"I wouldn't know, sir," Malcolm said stiffly, torn between irritation that the captain had such a role in determining what amounted to his psychological treatment, and surprise that the captain would do such a thing to help him.

"As the days went on," Jon said, "I was beginning to wonder if I'd done the right thing by ordering you to learn how to live with your blindness. You didn't seem fazed at all. You were able to overcome every challenge we threw at you."

"You mean all those things--" Malcolm said, beginning to realize how many people had been involved in trying to help him regain his sight. "Phlox kicking me out of sickbay, Trip and Hoshi making me go to the mess hall to eat, the audible basketball that Travis came up with...those were your ideas?"

"Actually, they came up with those ideas on their own," Jon said with a smile. "They were just as anxious for you to overcome your disability as I was." He laughed. "But you threw us for a loop. No matter what we came up with, you succeeded. You even started tackling projects on your own, like cleaning the phase pistols." At Malcolm's startled look, Jon laughed again. "Yes, I know about that. I was beginning to wonder if your blindness was such a handicap after all."

"But...but..." Malcolm knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't help it. He remembered his armory staff helping him learn how to shoot a phase pistol while blind, but he wasn't about to ask if they'd been in on his "therapy," too. It was bad enough that the senior staff -- including T'Pol with those meditation sessions -- had been trying to frustrate him into seeing again. "What did Doctor Phlox have to say about this unorthodox treatment?"

Jon shrugged. "He didn't have any other ideas, so he agreed it would be worth trying. Not that he expected it would succeed, but he said it would keep you busy and out of his sickbay."

"So the treatment didn't work as you'd hoped," Malcolm said, a sudden suspicion making him narrow his eyes. "Then we started running into subspace waves, and today we were boarded."

Jon's eyes opened wide at what Malcolm had left unsaid. "That was not part of the plan, Malcolm," he said. "If you're thinking we staged that for your benefit, you're wrong."

Malcolm nodded curtly, accepting the captain's word. It was somewhat farfetched to think they'd go to that amount of trouble. "So what was that all about?"

Jon shook his head. "We don't know, but we'll be better prepared if it happens again. We know what their objective was -- taking over Enterprise. But somehow, after the reception they got, I don't think they're going to mess with us again."

"Did we learn anything more about the subspace waves?"

"T'Pol's going over the data from the scans now," Jon answered.

"I'd like to take a look at that data," Malcolm said.

Jon smiled. "I expected you would. T'Pol's in the command center," he said.

"With your permission?" Malcolm asked, getting to his feet.

"Of course," Jon said.

Malcolm was at the door when the captain called out and stopped him. "I meant what I said in sickbay after you were injured in the explosion."

Malcolm turned back, a puzzled frown on his face. "Sir?"

"You're the best tactical officer in the fleet, even when you can't see," Jon said. "That's why I let you go into Engineering when we were under attack. If anyone could resolve that situation, I knew it would be you."

Malcolm ducked his head in embarrassment at the praise. "Thank you, sir. If that's all..."

Jon laughed. "Go on. I know you're itching to look at that data."

"Aye, sir," he said, and after another curt nod, left the captain's private mess.

Malcolm was half way to the bridge when he realized the captain hadn't said anything about his duty status. He'd thought that was the reason the captain had wanted to see him, but it hadn't come up.

If he wasn't on active duty, he had no right to be on the bridge or in the situation room. Then again, the captain had told him he could look at the subspace wave data. His presence, while not exactly conforming to regulations, was allowable with the captain's permission.

He stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge and looked around. Nothing had changed since he had last seen it so many weeks ago. As he walked over to the door to the situation room, he mused that while things didn't look different, he was still experiencing a sensation that everything was brand new. He knew he'd never take his sight for granted again.

T'Pol was in front of the main screen when he entered the situation room. At her raised eyebrow at his entrance, he explained, "The captain said I could look at the data from the subspace wave."

She dipped her head in acknowledgement, moving aside to allow him to stand next to her at the main screen. "My felicitations on your recovery," she said.

"Um. Yes. Thank you," he said awkwardly.

"I was about to leave. I have found no new information in the data," T'Pol told him, calling up the first of the scans. "Feel free to peruse them. Perhaps you will see something I haven't."

Malcolm shot her a glance as she exited the room, wondering if she'd just made a joke. He shook his head and turned his attention to the screen.

He studied the information for several minutes, happy to be back doing something constructive. Before long, however, he realized he was having trouble concentrating. He gave in to what was nagging at him and, stepping over to another console, called up the duty roster.

With a sinking feeling, he saw there was no notation indicating he'd been returned to active duty. Scrolling back up through the entries, he was surprised to find that there was no notation indicating he'd been relieved from duty in the first place. Certain there was a mistake, he double checked the entries, but according to what he was reading, he'd never been relieved of duty.

He tried to recall those first few days after the bandages had come off and he hadn't been able to see. To the best of his recollection, no one had actually told him that he'd been relieved from duty. All along, he'd just assumed that was the case.

No wonder the captain hadn't appointed a replacement for him! The entire time he'd been blind, he had still been Enterprise's tactical officer and chief of security. It was both humbling and gratifying. Humbling, because the captain's belief in his abilities had remained steady when he himself had questioned them, and gratifying, because he'd always known he was a good officer. Buoyed by the captain's faith in him, he knew there was only one thing to do.

Moving back over to the main screen, he resumed looking at the data on the subspace wave with a renewed sense of purpose. T'Pol hadn't found anything, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything to be found. Maybe it just needed someone with a different perspective, someone with more of a tactical viewpoint than a purely scientific outlook.

He wasn't aware he was smirking as he gazed intently at the information before him.

(A/N: Thank all of you who have read through this whole story. If you enjoyed it, let me know! I've really loved all the comments you've left. It's much appreciated.)