AN: Thanks to Exploded Pen, Joy and Triptacular (yep, usually they are... -cough- ;) ) for reviewing. I really appreciate it very much!

So, well, now here goes the epilogue...

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Epilogue

Malcolm Reed was sitting on a chair next to a bio bed in sickbay, watching his sleeping partner, who was covered to the chin with a grey sickbay blanket and looking a little peaked around the nose. However, Phlox had said that everything had gone as planned, and that they only had to wait for Trip to sleep off the anesthesia.

Malcolm remembered the few terrible minutes between the moment when he'd received the call from sickbay - "There was an accident in Engineering, please come to sickbay asap, Lieutenant" - and the moment he'd arrived here, completely out of breath, to find that Trip had been injured, but not in a life-threatening way. An overloading relay had blown up, and a flying metal fragment had buried itself in Trip's thigh. Phlox had taken Trip to the OR immediately, and there had been no complications during surgery. The doctor had told Malcolm and the Captain that there would be no lasting damage whatsoever, and that Trip would be able to return to duty in about a week.

Relieved at the good news, Malcolm had decided to stay and wait for Trip to wake up, and so he was sitting here, watching Trip and gently caressing the soft skin on his partner's temple. He was getting a little drowsy - the sickbay smell seemed to do that to him every time he stayed here longer than a few minutes - and his thoughts were drifting.

When the monitor above Trip's head gave a soft bleeping, he started and got up quickly.

"Phlox?"

Sure enough, the doctor was there immediately, sticking his head through the curtains and throwing a glance at the monitor. "Everything's alright, Lieutenant," he said with a smile. "The Commander is waking up."

When Malcolm lowered his eyes and looked at Trip's face, he saw that his partner's eyelids were fluttering. He bent down and took Trip's hand.

"Hello there, love," he said, and Trip slowly dragged his eyes open, blinking a few times, then looking back at Malcolm with a rather confused expression in his eyes. Malcolm smiled. "Welcome back."

Trip didn't answer immediately, and when he spoke, his voice was rather hoarse. "Has Lizzy gone to bed yet?"

Malcolm was thrown off track for a moment, but tried not to let it show on his face. "Sure, love. Everything's fine. You're in sickbay."

"I've gotta bake her birthday cake now," Trip said, ignoring Malcolm's statement. Malcolm looked up at Phlox, frowning worriedly.

"Phlox?" he asked, and the doctor smiled broadly.

"Not to worry, Lieutenant. This is quite normal. The Commander will be back to his usual self in the morning."

There was a sparkle in the doctor's eyes, and Malcolm felt his ears redden, remembering the Suliban-appendix-incident of two months ago. Or rather, remembering the many tales about it. He himself still had no recollection of events.

"Ah, well," he said, turning back to Trip and lowering himself onto the chair. "I'll stay with him, then."

"As you wish, Lieutenant. If the Commander goes back to sleep later on, you are free to use one of the bio beds to - what is that human expression again - catch some shoot-eye."

"Shut-eye," Malcolm corrected him, glad that he had his back turned to the doctor. He did not want Phlox to see the smirk he hadn't be able to suppress at the doctor's words. "It's 'to catch some shut-eye'."

"Right," Phlox said cheerfully, undeterred by his mistake. "I'll be next door, if you need anything."

Malcolm nodded, and the sound of fabric moving against fabric told him that Phlox had left. He returned his attention to Trip, who was looking at him, the expression on his face probably best described with the words "far-out". Malcolm smiled at him and began to tousle the blond strands that were sticking up in all directions. Trip blinked a few times.

"Ah don't think we have any flour left," he said. "Did you remember to buy flour, Andy?"

"There's some in the basement," Malcolm said.

Trip frowned deeply. "We don't have a basement." He began to move his hands, and was obviously planning to sit up. "I'll go over to Nancy's, ask her for a coupla cups."

Malcolm caught Trip's hands in mid-movement and tightened his fingers around them. "Nancy's asleep already," he said. "Have you checked the pantry?"

"Nah, actually I haven't," Trip said, settling back down on the bed. "Good idea, though."

Malcolm smiled, and as he continued the conversation about Lizzy's birthday cake, he didn't let go of Trip's hands. His partner didn't seem to be inclined to use any force to be allowed to get up.

But better to be safe than sorry.

The End

AN: Well, okay, so I'm gonna comment on it, after all ;). I spent the last year working in a hospital, and we had to take care of quite a few post-surgery patients. I admit that I have exaggerated the effects of Sudown Syndrome somewhat (but hey, what's fiction for, especially humor fiction), but I do have a few tales to tell from late shifts, including one about a Russian who suddenly decided that he wanted to go dancing and began to throw teapots at the staff when we told him he couldn't. The tale that found its way into this fic was no first-hand experience of mine (I guess I'm lacking the anatomic requirements, women can't get their balls squeezed, thank God ;) ), but it happened to one of the male nurses during night shift. I can tell you, after this incident that guy had the restraints at hand rather quickly when one of the patient was beginning to go bonkers ;).

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my fic... and as I said, feedback, chocolate, chocolate, feedback, and so on!