Thanks for your wonderful comments so far. You're really keeping me inspired!
x-x
Trip leaned back in his chair, trying to stifle another yawn as they used some meeting time to run through Malcolm's situation yet again, none of them wanting to believe that which was seeming more and more likely - that the voices were a sign of mental illness, and that whatever the actual cause, the symptoms were getting progressively worse.
Trip was exhausted, barely functional. He'd been working frantically over the last two days - between his normal shifts, he'd spent hours evaluating, then re-evaluating the ship's systems, trying to find answers. He spent his down-time with Malcolm, feeling useless as he watched his friend slip further and further from them, from him.
"We haven't been able to find a physical cause," Phlox said from across the table, and Trip forced himself to focus on the conversation.
"Maybe it's not physical," Archer said. He stood and started pacing the narrow meeting room. "Trip, any progress on an external cause?"
Trip shook his head. "We've been through the systems again and again. We've found nothing."
T'Pol asked, "Could it be coming from outside Enterprise?"
"What?" Hoshi asked. "Like some sort of signal?"
Trip leaned forward, about to dismiss the idea, but he froze. A signal. Maybe, that might be... Of course. He was a complete idiot. Why hadn't he thought to check for that sooner?
He stood suddenly and hurried out of the room, heading straight for Hoshi's station. Once he reached it, though, he simply stood there, his hand hovering above it. He was unsure of where to start, too tired to even begin.
He felt someone step beside him, and looked down into Hoshi's eyes.
"Let me, Sir," she said softly. "You should go, talk to Malcolm."
Trip smiled briefly. "Yeah." That much, he could do.
x-x
Trip rushed to Malcolm's quarters to tell him the latest. When he got there, the door was locked, and he could hear music pulsing through the walls.
Overriding the lock, he opened the door. Music rushed out, swirling past him in a flood of sound and he stepped inside quickly, shutting the door.
His brow wrinkled in worry when he realised what was going on. Malcolm was sitting on his bed, facing the wall, his back to Trip. As Trip watched, Malcolm leaned forward and slowly, gently pounded his head against the wall, in time to the music. Pound, pound...
By the third strike, Trip had crossed the room and touched him on the shoulder. Malcolm jerked away and scuttled across the bed, eyes wide and breath harsh.
Trip signalled the music to a lower volume. "Malcolm?" he asked. When he didn't receive a response, he said it again, louder. He carefully, cautiously sat on the edge of the bed, far from Malcolm, but directly in his line of sight.
"Trip," Malcolm finally answered with a brittle, false smile.
"Are you okay?"
Malcolm cocked his head to the side, seeming to think for a moment. "No," he finally answered, his voice slightly shaky. "I don't think so. No."
"Okay -"
"I can't sleep," Malcolm said before Trip could continue.
Trip nodded. "We should get you to sick -"
"No, no. I just need a distraction," Malcolm said, cutting him off again.
"The music isn't working any more?"
Malcolm winced. "They're all I can hear," he said, his words tumbling out in his haste. "All I can think about. Awake, asleep, it doesn't matter. Voices, spiralling in on each other, rising and falling. It's like I should understand them, but...I just need a little time...maybe if I could sleep, or...I need..."
Trip nodded. "Come with me." When Malcolm didn't move, he held out his hand, grabbed Malcolm's arm, and pulled. "Come on. I have an idea."
x-x
As Malcolm stood in the middle of Trip's room, seeming confused and more than a bit lost, Trip turned down the lights and turned on his sound system. He picked some dance music, then cranked it up loud, really loud. As the pounding beat filled the small space, Malcolm looked at him like he was the one who was nuts.
"Dance," Trip ordered, hands on his hips.
When Malcolm didn't move, Trip gave him a slight push, and started dancing himself. "Dance," he said again. "Come on."
Malcolm continued to look at him like he was an idiot. And maybe he was, but this was the only thing he could think of.
"Listen," he said, ceasing his movement. "It's all consuming and physically exhausting. It might work. It certainly can't hurt." He raised an eyebrow. "And I promise not to tell anyone that I actually saw you dancing."
"No one?" Malcolm said, smiling slightly.
"Not a soul."
Malcolm nodded and, throwing caution, his reserve, and his inhibitions to the wind, started dancing.
An hour later they'd both fallen asleep, exhausted.
x-x
The comm. went in the middle of the night, but Trip got there before the buzzing woke Malcolm. "Yeah?"
"I may have found something," Hoshi said across the line.
"I'll be right there."
Trip rushed to the bridge, going directly to Hoshi's station before he'd even looked up at the rest of the people on the bridge. When he finally did, he nodded at Donna O'Neill, third shift duty officer, in surprise - he'd had no idea of the time, and was surprised to find it was so late.
"Working late?" he asked, ducking his head back to Hoshi.
Hoshi looked up at him from her seat and shrugged. "I found something." She smiled. "A signal. It's very faint. It's coming from here," she said, pointing to her screen.
"Isn't that the Cekate system?" Trip asked, his surprise apparent in his tone.
Hoshi nodded.
Trip triggered the comm. "Captain?"
"Yeah," Archer replied in a groggy voice.
Trip knew he'd just woken the man, but this was too urgent to wait. "You better get up here."
x-x
When the captain arrived on the bridge, Trip quickly explained about the signal and where it was coming from.
The captain looked at him in shock.
"What?" Hoshi asked, her eyes moving from the captain, to Trip, and back again.
"Do you remember when Malcolm had been captured on Vejce?" Trip asked her.
Hoshi nodded.
"That was the Cekatians."
"Oh," Hoshi replied softly. "Oh! You think they might have done something?"
"Yeah," Trip replied.
Archer nodded to Trip. "Get him to sickbay."
Trip was already moving by the time Archer started barking orders.
x-x
Trip slapped open the door to his quarters and rushed in, almost tripping himself when he froze by the doorway. Malcolm was lying on Trip's bed, obviously awake, but he was just - he was staring up at the ceiling.
Trip took a slow step toward him. "Malcolm?"
When Malcolm didn't respond, didn't even move, Trip went to him, sitting beside him on the bed. "Malcolm, can you hear me?" When his friend didn't react, he waved a hand in front of Malcolm's eyes. Nothing, not a flicker. He frowned and stood, going to the comm. Just as he raised his hand to raise sickbay, he saw Malcolm give a soft sigh. After a moment, his eyes closed.
Confused, Trip walked back to Malcolm's side and knelt down beside the bed. "Malcolm?" he asked. He watched as his friend's chest rose, then fell. Rose, then fell. Rose, then fell, each time seeming just a bit slower, just a bit shallower than the last.
But that was weird, not possible - Malcolm hadn't shown any signs of anything like that, anything physical beyond the headaches. Trip placed his fingers against his friend's wrist, feeling for a pulse. He counted, and he waited. It was almost imperceptible, but yes, it was there - he could feel Malcolm's pulse slowing under his fingers.
"God, Malcolm," he whispered.
x-x
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