A/N: Firstly, I would like to say how sorry I am that I haven't been posting as regularly as I would have hoped, but that's the way it is, I suppose… my only defence is that my chapter's for this story are longer than the chapter's of any other story I've ever written, and that I'm dealing with some pretty big issues here. I'm finding certain parts very hard to write, in particular trying not to bore you with the "grieving process" and the way I'm writing it. This chapter we've got a bit more action in reference to the "living" world, and the A-bomb Malcolm discovered in the first chapter. Also a lot of angst for poor old Trip. Also, I am very sorry for any mistakes I have made in concern to Season Three of Enterprise… I haven't seen any episodes after The Expanse yet, but I do know that there is reference to a Xindi "weapon". So I suppose this story is going to be heading in a direction quite separate to the series, and is very AU. I hope that doesn't cause any problems! And now, of course, to my delightful reviewers:

Exploded Pen: I still can't believe I'm making people cry with this story! I'm so proud!

Jani: Thanks!

Gabi: Thanks! Maybe, Malcolm will try and contact Trip again, but I don't want it to get too repetitive. I'll see where it goes – I've already planned my ending, I hope you guys will like it. It involves Trip, very heavily. Then again, it's quite a few chapters away at the moment!

KaliedescopeCat: Well, I was going to put in the "ghost" of a lowly crewman killed during the building of the ship, but your idea was better. I had been planning to put that character in as bit of comic relief. Oh, and I'm very glad you're enjoying this story! My highest reviewed story SO FAR!!!

Amy Rose: Thanks! Okay then – just for you, I've put in more of the "sweet, sexy, Malcolm"! Next chapter I'll probably have an explanation of Malcolm's sudden personality change. Which means MORE ANGST! And see the last section of this chapter for Trip angst – I hope you like it. Poor, poor, darling Trip.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Paramount, Star Trek, or any of its affiliates. I don't own Malcolm Reed, Trip Tucker, or Captain Archer (shame, that). Even the storyline is only half mine – as I've said before, I have drawn a lot of inspiration from Eoin Colfer's The Wish List. But the next few scenes are entirely original (within the Enterprise canon, that is). Ok. Enough chatter. What are you doing letting me babble on pointlessly for hours? Read the story!

Chapter Five

"Cathy?" Malcolm whispered, as though frightened to break the beautiful silence which had settled over the room, frightened that he might break the spell, hallucination, or whatever it was, which had somehow brought his wife back to him. Catherine nodded, her auburn hair falling, as it always did, into her eyes. He stepped closer, reaching out. "Oh, Cathy." He murmured, reaching forward to take her hand… but he couldn't. He frowned, then tried again. As before, he was repelled. It was almost as though there was some sort of… invisible wall, between them, not letting them touch one another.

It was too much for Malcolm, who had suffered blow after emotional blow during the last few days, and he slammed his fist into the desk in frustration. His hand went straight through it, which only caused to frustrate him even more.

"Cathy!" He shouted, for her appearance was beginning to shimmer, as though she was being claimed by some sort of transporter beam.

"Malcolm, stop it!" She shouted back, looking panicked. There were strange voices filtering into the room, brief ghosts of images flitting around Catherine.

"Stop what?" Malcolm asked, at a complete loss.

"Getting angry! It's interfering with - " Then, suddenly, she disappeared. Malcolm stared around the room in astonishment.

"Cath." He whispered hoarsely. "Cath, come back!" Calm down. A voice said suddenly and firmly from the back of his mind. Why? What good will it do? The rebellious side of his mind argued, but eventually, the other voice won out. After all, what did he have to lose?

"Ok." Malcolm said, taking deep, calming breaths. "Ok." He repeated, his voice steady. "I'm calm."

In the blink of an eye, Catherine was back, though she looked much more tired and haggard than she had barely five minutes ago when she had first appeared. Her eyes held a hint of fear, of panic. She was breathing heavily, and leaned against the wall for support whilst she got her breath back. Malcolm scowled. Had he tried to lean against a wall like that he would have probably fallen out the other side. Knowing his luck, he'd probably have fallen through a person as well.

"Malcolm - " She gasped. "You – must not – get angry." She managed to choke out, her forehead beading with perspiration. Malcolm stepped forward, frowning in concern. He held out a hand to support her –

"No!" Cathy said suddenly, and Malcolm drew his hand back as though he had been burned. He turned away, hurt.

"Why?" He asked quietly, his voice filled with regret and only a little anger. "Why can't I touch you?" Catherine sighed, and her image briefly flickered, and Malcolm feared for a moment that he was going to lose her again.

"Malcolm… I… I'm not really here, not… not in the way you are." Malcolm frowned, confused.

"I – what?" Catherine frowned as well, thoughtfully, and began to pace.

"You didn't want to die… so you were cursed with half a life… that's why you can see and hear everything that's going on around you, but you can't interact with those around you…" Malcolm waited patiently for her to finish. He was well used to her long, rather confusing conversations she held with herself when trying to figure something out – usually some hideously complicated piece of security technology or other. But this time it was different. Very different. Catherine halted her pacing suddenly and turned to Malcolm, her jaw set as though preparing to bare her soul to him. In truth, she was.

"Malcolm… the reason you can't touch me is because I've moved on. You haven't." She said simply, and Malcolm stared at her in disbelief.

"Moved on? What on earth – or above it - are you talking about?" Catherine glared at him, as though he was being deliberately difficult.

"Moved on... into the next life, heaven, hell, whatever you want to call it."

"Oh." Malcolm eyed his wife of the mortal world curiously. "So… where are you then? Heaven… or hell?" He paused, before asking, almost as an afterthought, "And where am I?"

"Purgatory." Catherine replied, a wry, amused smile on her face. "And as for where I am… well, some say it is heaven, but I am not so sure." Her expression softened sadly. "For what is heaven, without one's only soulmate?" Malcolm smiled a small, sad smile.

"I am glad you think of me that way, Catherine." He said softly, and his wife raised an eyebrow, but the look of gentle longing never left her eyes.

"Who says I was talking about you?" She asked playfully, but Malcolm merely smiled, and realised suddenly that they had got very much off track.

"You didn't answer my question, Cath… why can't I touch you?" He pressed, and Catherine glanced around herself, as though expecting someone to leap out of the shadows of Malcolm's old bunk.

"You can't touch me, because…" She stopped suddenly.

"Because…?" Malcolm urged her to go on, and she took a deep breath.

"Because we are in completely different places – different planes of existence. I am in the immortal realm, and yet you are still clinging onto the mortal one. I am contacting you in way which is… disapproved of… by my peers. Any loud or particularly strong emotional outbursts will give me away – and you trying to touch me will break the 'link', as it were."

"Whoah." Malcolm said, his "mind" reeling from the incredibly mind-boggling information he was being fed. He frowned slightly, thinking. "So how do I get out of this, uh… "purgatory"? How do I get to you?" Catherine flinched slightly at his words, and a haunted look came into his eyes.

"You can't. At least, not yet." She said sadly. "And maybe never." She paused, and the look which she gave Malcolm almost caused his heart to break. "I cannot tell you what to do. Only you can tell yourself that." Her image flickered, and when she spoke again her voice was much fainter. "Fare thee well, my love." She said sadly, before stepping forward. She leant towards Malcolm – their lips brushed – Malcolm leant closer to her – and she was gone, leaving but the ghost of a kiss behind her.

"Farewell, Catherine." Malcolm murmured quietly, sadly. "Farewell."

*

Catherine Eddison smiled radiantly at the man next to her as he gently squeezed her hand. Through her white wedding veil she could see the vicar preparing himself for the service. Though she herself wasn't particularly religious, her parents were devout Christians, and so she felt that it was most… appropriate… to get married in the church she had so often been to with her parents during her childhood. Malcolm hadn't minded – as far as he was concerned, the further he stayed away from the wedding planning, the better. Cathy allowed herself a small, personal smile at the memory of Malcolm driving himself crazy over such a simple thing as writing his speech, whereas poor Catherine and her mother had been working themselves half to death preparing invitations, buying the dress, choosing the wedding cake. She shook her head – Malcolm was a hopeless case if there ever was one. But she loved him for it. And that was what the day was all, about, wasn't it? Love, commitment, loyalty. Forsaking all others… till death do us part…

Silently, Catherine went over the vows in her head one more time. Her greatest fear was losing her head completely and making a complete and utter fool of both herself and her husband to be. Not that Malcolm needs much help though. Catherine thought wryly. Her husband-to-be had managed to leave his shirt hanging out over his trousers, and somehow put the flower in his button hole upside down… and the flower was fake, as well… very obviously so, in fact.

Malcolm caught her looking and hurriedly tucked his shirt in, a sheepish grin spreading across his features. His hair was neat and tidy, for once, but unstyled… soft looking and wavy, just the way Cathy liked it.

"If I may have your attention, please." The vicar cleared his throat, and Cathy felt a thrill of excitement rush through her, leaving her tingling happily. This was it – she was about to make a commitment, for life, for everyone to see. There would be no turning back now. And she didn't want to – this was all she had ever wanted, all she had ever needed. She loved Malcolm, and was ready to pledge her very life to him, however long or short that life might turn out to be.

"Dearly beloved…" The vicar was droning, but Catherine hardly heard a word, until the vicar turned to her and began,

"Now, do you, Catherine Jennifer Eddison, take this man, Malcolm Reed, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, until death parts you?" Catherine smiled, and clasped her soon-to-be-husband's hands all the tighter.

"I do." She replied simply, not averting her eyes from Malcolm's beautiful grey-blue ones for a single moment. It did not matter that Malcolm had yet to say his part, did not matter that they had not yet taken their full vows, for her, their marriage was already consecrated, in love, the most important thing of all.

*
Charles "Trip" Tucker, bit his lip as he ploughed through the data retrieved by Malcolm in his final act as armoury officer and chief protector of the Enterprise NX-01. He had been up since the early hours of the morning, fighting for a way around it, a solution, something, but the fact was irrefutable – the Xindi's weaponry was far superior to anything that Starfleet could ever hope to create. And there would be no defence.
Trip shivered. He had seen pictures of the destruction wreaked by the atom bombs dropped on Hiroshima as a youth, and the images had rocked him to his very core. Babies born without limbs, people dying slow and agonising deaths of radiation sickness. Everywhere rubble, death, and dust.
No! This can't be happening! His mind raged. I will not let something like that happen to my world, we will not let them destroy and degrade us in such a way! He squeezed his eyes shut in complete and utter despair, before opening them again. The data was still there, innocuously spelling out Earth's fate – which at the moment did not seem promising. This isn't fair! Trip whined. So many people, all that death, the bodies, the blood, the sickness… NO! This can't be happening. I won't LET it happen! Trip almost screamed aloud, before taking in a deep, gasping breath, in a rather futile attempt to calm himself.
"Trip? Having any luck?" Trip whirled around in surprise as Jon's voice brought him thudding back to the real world with a painful bump. Trip glanced up at his friend blearily, and shook his head.
"No. No such luck. Let's face it, they're gonna kick the life outta us." Archer sighed and pulled up a seat next to him, the legs scraping on the floor as he did so. The sound made Trip wince. His head was thumping.
"Aren't you resigning us to the scrap heap a little too soon, Trip?" Jon asked, his grey eyes filled with concern. Trip could understand why – he was usually the optimist of the ship. But now Malcolm was gone the position of chief pessimist was open, and Trip knew that someone had to face the facts. Might as well be him. Trip shrugged defiantly, and motioned to the monitor screen, his eyes blazing with anger as he stood up and began to pace furiously.
"Look! You know as well as anybody what happened at Hiroshima! We all do! And what about the Third World War – we had weaponry like that then, and it almost destroyed us! And the Xindi's weapons are about ten times as powerful as anything we ever managed to come up with!" Archer sighed, and the sound, so full of tired desperation, made Trip feel, just for a moment, a little bit guilty. But then he was consumed once again by rage and – loathe though he was to admit it – fear.
"Trip, I - " Archer began, but Trip cut him off, quiet fury permeating ever fibre of his being.
"Don't you dare say that you're sorry, because if you do, God help me, I will hurt you." Trip threatened, deadly serious. Jon sagged back in his chair.
"Trip… just listen to me." Jon urged him beseechingly, and Trip leant back on the wall, his arms folded. The message he was giving out was clear: You had better not be wasting my time. Archer seemed to read his friend's mind.
"I'll make this quick then, shall I?" He said quietly, his eyes hard and angry. Trip looked away, guilty, knowing what was coming next. "You've pushed everyone who cares about you away, you've let yourself wallow in your own grief and self-pity, and I'm sick of it! Malcolm may be dead, but that doesn't mean it's the end of the world! You are still alive, and mostly it's because of him! In fact, it's a slur on his very memory to be acting like this! Do you truly think this is what Malcolm would have wanted? Well? Do you?" Trip turned away from the force of the anger, tears welling in his eyes.
"I don't know!" He shouted. "Alright? First Lizzie, then Malcolm, and now Earth! How much is one soul supposed to be able to take? I feel like I'm drowning, Jon, in grief, in guilt, in the awful blackness of it all!" And then he was being held, gripped in warm arms which promised never to let him go.
"It's alright." Jon whispered. "It's alright to cry." And with that, Trip finally broke down, and sobbed, sobbed for the soul of his sister, for the life of his best friend his best friend, and for the souls of the six billion people he had just that day so cruelly consigned to the grave.
*
A/N: Please tell me what you thought of this chapter. I'm sorry if I got the marriage vows a bit wrong – I haven't been to that many weddings. Also, I realise that I am mentioning Hiroshima and rather depressing issues like that quite a lot – maybe next chapter I'll write in a little bit of humour to raise the tone a little. I also wrote about WW3 because I've always felt that it was a subject which was touched upon, briefly, in First Contact and some of the Enterprise episodes, but that was never really developed that much. If any of you have any ideas or opinions, please let me know – ideas are especially welcome.
Oh, and would anyone fancy beta-reading for this and any of my other Enterprise stories? Please? ^_^