Title: Killing Thing
Author: Sita Z
Genre: Angst/Drama
Rating: PG 13
AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 3!
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Chapter 4
"Where are they?" Malcolm raised his head. He wasn't surprised when Phlox tightened his grip on his arm.
"Lieutenant..."
"Where are they?" He shook off the restraining hand and stepped away from the doctor, his eyes coming to rest on a door at the far end of the room.
The Intensive Care Unit was a separated part of sickbay, fully equipped with an airlock-like entrance, a small decontamination cubicle and four isolated beds. Enterprise's designers had originally intended it as a sickroom for patients with communicable diseases, but so far, the crew had been spared any illnesses that required quarantine procedures. Phlox sometimes used the separated space as a recovery room for patients who had just come out of surgery, and Malcolm recalled one rather undignified occasion when he had been locked in there overnight after sneaking out on the doctor (Captain Archer had ruined his escape at the time by discovering him in the Armory and dragging him back to sickbay). The embarrassment of being handed over to a furious doctor by his Captain was still vivid in Malcolm's mind, but there was another thing he remembered from the experience, and right now, it was the only thing that held any interest for him: the door to the isolation unit could be locked only with the doctor's own private code.
"They're in the ICU, right?"
He never waited for the doctor's confirmation, walking across the room towards the locked door, but Phlox was quicker. He brushed past him and blocked the way to the ICU, resting his hands on the door frame as if to physically stop Malcolm from going any further.
"I cannot allow you to go in there, Lieutenant."
The idea of pushing the doctor aside and short-circuiting the door panel crossed his mind, but only for a split second.
"Doctor," he said, still in that strange, hollow tone. "I only want to... to talk to them."
At that point, he wasn't even sure whether he was lying or not.
"Lieutenant," Phlox continued, still not budging, "Lieutenant Peters and the two Ensigns are in no condition to talk to you. They were brought to sickbay about three hours ago, and have been under sedation for about an hour and a half. Going in there will accomplish nothing."
Malcolm stared at him, and then, slowly, he stepped away from the doctor. "Just keep that door locked," he said quietly. He hated for Trip to be so close to the people who had done this terrible thing to him, and wanted to make sure that there was at least one firm bulkhead between them. And, if he was being completely honest, the locked door also prevented himself from going in there. Malcolm wasn't so sure he'd be responsible for his actions if he did.
Phlox nodded in silent understanding. "I will."
Malcolm nodded his agreement - and froze in mid-movement. "The Captain's not in there, is he?"
"No." Phlox had lowered his arms again, and taken a step away from the door. "I had the three crewmen moved in there after I'd received the results of the DNA test; I assumed it might be... easier, given the current situation, to have them isolated. Also, I can't be entirely sure that their altered brain chemistry won't lead to more aggressive behavior. The Captain is over there."
He gestured at a bio bed at the other end of the room. The privacy curtains hid the occupant from sight, but the steady flashing of the monitor indicated that there was a person asleep on the bed.
"Is... is he alright?" Malcolm asked, following the doctor back to the scan unit.
"He's unconscious, and his brain waves are erratic," Phlox replied. "I talked to him briefly after his return from the surface, and although he appeared somewhat disoriented, he didn't seem to know about what happened to the Commander."
Malcolm swallowed. He didn't want to articulate his next question, but he needed to know. "Are you certain, doctor? He... he didn't..."
"I'm fairly certain that Captain Archer had nothing to do with the assault," Phlox said. "And the alteration seems to have affected him less than Lieutenant Peters and the two ensigns, although I have no explanation why that would be so."
Malcolm stepped back to the bed where his partner lay unconscious. The sweat on Trip's forehead had dried, and his hair stuck up in unruly spikes, as if he hadn't combed it in days. Somehow, it made him look very young and vulnerable, and Malcolm felt something tighten in his chest. It was one of the many things he loved about Trip - the way he sometimes looked like a little boy in his sleep. The way he'd disappear back under the sheets in the morning - "'nly a f'w m're m'nits, darlin'" - and look more like a sulking child than anything else when Malcolm finally managed to drag him out just in time to shower and get dressed before their shift began. More often than not, Malcolm had granted his partner far more "minutes" than they could actually afford, simply because he loved to watch Trip sleep. Now, however, the sight only hardened the lump in his throat. The idea of someone hurting this man tore Malcolm's soul apart, and the fact that someone he knew - people he had placed his trust in - had done so was something he found himself barely able to comprehend.
"Do you think it was this... alteration in their brains that made them do it?" he asked, barely noticing that his voice had dropped to a whisper. Phlox came to stand next to him and rested a gentle hand on his arm.
"I believe so," he said quietly. "I've never known any of these men to be violent or unstable. This... is a tragic situation, Lieutenant, for everyone concerned."
Malcolm supposed that the doctor was right, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but rage and disgust when he thought of the three men behind the door of the IC unit. In the end, it didn't matter why they had done it - the pain Trip had suffered couldn't be undone by a logical explanation.
Phlox withdrew his hand, turning back to his patient.
"I'm going to need your help to move the Commander to a biobed," he said, and Malcolm nodded, carefully scooping Trip up in his arms again so that his head came to rest against Malcolm's shoulder.
"Are you sure he can't stay in his quarters, doctor?" he asked, although he realized what the answer was going to be. Still, Malcolm knew Trip would have preferred to be somewhere private, away from prying eyes.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Phlox said. "As long as his brain scans are still showing those irregularities, he'll have to stay here in sickbay."
Malcolm nodded, and, walking slowly with the heavy weight on his arms, carried Trip to the biobed Phlox showed him, one that was two beds away from Archer's.
"I'd like to give the Commander as much privacy as possible," the doctor said as a way of explanation, and Malcolm met Phlox' eyes in mute agreement.
Gently, he laid Trip down on the adjustable mattress, making sure that he was resting comfortably before he let go of him. Phlox stood aside as Malcolm took a pillow and several blankets from a nearby shelf and went back to his partner's side. He slid the pillow under Trip's head, and smoothed the hair out of the sleeping man's forehead before he covered him with the blankets and tucked him in.
"I'm going to stay with him," he said without looking at the doctor. To his surprise, Phlox never even tried to dissuade him, disappearing into an adjoining room to come back with a chair and a spare blanket.
"Maybe you can try and sleep a little while you're here," he said as he set the chair down next to Trip's bed. Malcolm nodded, and didn't protest when the doctor wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.
"Thank you, doctor." He took a seat, and reached out for Trip's hand, holding it in both of his own. It was warm and callused under his fingers, and it felt familiar. Somehow, holding Trip's hand made him calmer.
"I'll be here when you need me, Lieutenant," Phlox said quietly, and Malcolm knew he wasn't only talking about being within earshot. He looked up at the doctor.
"Thank you."
Phlox nodded, closing the privacy curtain behind him so that Trip's bed and Malcolm sitting next to it were separated from the main room. Malcolm heard his steps withdraw, and a minute later the sound of leaves rustling and soft squeaking told him that Phlox was serving his various pets their early-morning meal.
Trip didn't even stir at the sound; he was still deep in his drug-induced unconsciousness. Malcolm hoped that it was a dreamless sleep, free from nightmares or flashbacks of what had occurred on the planet. The way Trip had cried out when he'd woken from his earlier nightmare hadn't left much to imagination what the dream had been about. Malcolm closed his eyes, wishing he could chase away the terrible images, both from Trip's memories and his own mind. He didn't want to think of what they'd done, how it had happened, although Trip's injuries pretty much spoke for themselves. He wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with all this pain, both his own and that of his partner. All he really wanted was something he knew wouldn't happen; he wanted for it all to go away, like a small child closing his eyes to make the monsters disappear. Only that this time, the monsters were going to stay, for days, months, maybe years to come. They were going to be there, every hour and every minute, and no one could possibly live with their eyes closed for so long.
Malcolm noticed that he had clenched his fingers around Trip's hand and carefully loosened his grip, his thumb stroking the back of Trip's hand.
"It's going to be alright, Trip," he whispered. "I'm here. And I know that you're going to be fine. I... just know." He swallowed. "We'll go through this together. It's not going to be easy, but hey." He smiled, and barely noticed how hoarse his voice sounded. "We got out of that bloody shuttlepod together, remember? We made it then, and this is going to be no different. We're going to make it together."
He leaned closer to Trip and cupped the other man's face in his right hand. "And when you're feeling better... when you're feeling better, we'll go somewhere, somewhere nice and sunny... just the two of us. You can take your scuba gear, and I promise I'll come with you to the beach, as long as I don't have to go in. Well, maybe I'll wade around a little in the shallows, if the water's really warm... and don't even think about dunking me under, Mr. Tucker. But I'd like that... no one else... just you and me..."
He couldn't continue and closed his eyes again, feeling something warm trickle down the side of his face. Hell, tonight he'd probably shed more tears than in the last five years put together, but he couldn't do anything about it. Maybe it was feeling so helpless and so angry at the same time that did it to him.
Malcolm talked for a long time, telling his sleeping partner about a white beach, about palm trees and sunshine, and all the while hoped that somewhere deep down Trip could hear him and understood what he was saying. Or at least was aware of his voice, and maybe found some comfort in it. At some point, he thought he felt Trip's hand move under his own, his fingers curling slightly around Malcolm's, but it was probably just Trip moving in his sleep. Malcolm never let go of him, and when he finally fell asleep, it was with his head resting on the edge of the bed until Phlox came back and gently sat him up in his chair.
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Malcolm woke to the sound of voices talking nearby. Pain throbbed at the back of his neck, and he realized that he'd been sleeping in a rather awkward position, slumped forward in his chair, his chin resting on his chest. He sat up, causing several muscles in his back to scream in protest, and noticed that even in his sleep, he hadn't let go of Trip's hand. Trip was still asleep, his fingers resting limply in Malcolm's own.
Malcolm blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and reached out to run a hand across Trip's forehead, smoothing away an unruly strand of hair that had fallen into his partner's eyes. He wondered how long he'd been asleep, when the voices caught his attention again.
"... know what happened, doc." The Captain's voice, sounding hoarse and weak.
"Captain, please lie back down. You shouldn't try to sit up just yet."
A sigh followed, and Malcolm assumed that the Captain had followed Phlox' order, since there was no further protest from the doctor. Briefly, he hesitated - leaving Trip's side, even for a short time, didn't sit well with him - but then he got up and carefully placed his partner's hand back on the bed.
"I'll be right back, love," he whispered. "I just want to see if the Captain's alright."
Trip, of course, didn't react, and quietly, Malcolm slipped past the curtain, making sure to draw it back into place before he turned around.
"Ah, Lieutenant!" Phlox, standing at Archer's bedside, smiled at him and a rather exhausted looking Captain turned his head in Malcolm's direction.
"Malcolm! Are you alright?"
At first, Malcolm was surprised by the question - until he realized that Archer must find it rather strange that he was here in sickbay, at this time of the day (or rather, night) nonetheless.
Fortunately, however, Phlox interrupted before Malcolm had to come up with an explanation of his own.
"The Lieutenant's perfectly fine, Captain," he said brightly. "He's here to see Commander Tucker."
Malcolm met the doctor's eyes, silently thanking him for his discretion, and Phlox slightly bowed his head.
Archer didn't seem to have noticed the mute exchange between the two of them; he still seemed rather groggy, blinking and raising his hand to cover a yawn.
"How are you feeling, Captain?" Malcolm asked as he stepped closer to Archer's bed. The Captain sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Like a Vulcan spaceshuttle landed on my head," he said. He lowered his hand, giving Malcolm a closer look, and his eyebrows drew together in apparent concern.
"You sure you're alright, Malcolm? You look... exhausted."
"I'm fine, sir," Malcolm replied - a little too quickly, as he realized himself. Secretly, he cursed himself for not taking the time to wash his face before he went to see the Captain.
Archer studied him for another moment, then, to Malcolm's relief, decided to let it go and turned back to Phlox instead.
"You still haven't answered my question, doctor. What's going on? And where is the rest of the team?" He sat up again, and this time, Phlox didn't try to push him back down. "Are they alright?"
Phlox spared a quick glance at the monitor above Archer's head. "Captain, what is the last thing you remember?"
The Captain brows drew together. "I remember being in the Hall of Negotiation, with Minister Ma'kih and several of her administrators. She'd compiled a list with "ideal gifts", as she called it, the compensation she wanted for the dilithium... she'd made it quite clear that she didn't approve of my "escort" being present at the negotiations, so I told Trip and the security team to stay back at the embassy in our suite..." Archer trailed off, obviously having difficulties to remember. "It... it all seems to blur at that point... I think I wasn't feeling too well, and Ma'kih asked me if I wanted to lie down for a while. She seemed concerned, but I declined, I wanted to get those negotiations done..." He shook his head. "I can't really remember what happened next. I must have passed out at some point."
"Actually, Captain," Phlox said, regarding Archer with a mixture of concern and compassion, "I don't believe you passed out at all, even though you seem to have no recollection of the last two hours of your stay."
"What are you talking about, doc?" The Captain sounded impatient now.
"Subcommander T'Pol said that you were all quite awake when she came to take you back to Enterprise. Awake, but... behaving irrationally. None of you answered any of her questions, you only stared apathetically into space and flinched when you were touched. She said that all of you appeared... afraid, both of each other and your surroundings. Your condition had improved somewhat when you arrived here in sickbay, which is why I discharged you after the examination. A rather gross misjudgment on my part, I'm afraid."
"T'Pol came to pick us up?" Archer frowned. "I have no recollection of that. I don't even remember calling the ship."
"You didn't. It was Minister Ma'kih who informed us that you wished to be taken back to your ship. That was all she said. When the Subcommander and Ensigns Mayweather and Hsan arrived with Shuttlepod II, none of the Ru'khi were present at the landing site. They had taken you back to your shuttlepod along with the dilithium and left an electronic message on a padd, asking the Subcommander to transport down the "gifts of compensation" as soon as she got back to the ship. They have not answered our hails ever since."
Archer's face had darkened as he listened to the doctor's report. "I've got a feeling that you're not telling me everything, doc."
Phlox sighed. "Captain, it's... not that easy."
"I vaguely remember being in sickbay at some point," Archer pressed on. "What about the others?"
"I examined all of you after your return, but for the most part I couldn't find anything physically wrong with you, so I released you to your quarters to rest. Several hours later, I was alerted by the Subcommander that you seemed to have lapsed into a state of unawareness. I had you taken to sickbay, and discovered an imbalance in your brain chemistry. I presume it had been there all along, but your condition deteriorated only when the abnormal neurotransmitter activity began to decrease again. Only a short time later, Lieutenant Peters, Ensigns Kelsey and Florez and Commander Tucker were brought here with the same problem. They're still unconscious, Captain. And I'm sorry," he continued when Archer opened his mouth, "I don't know what caused the alteration, although I'm fairly certain I will have some answers for you after I've performed a more thorough analysis of your brain scans. All I can say at the moment is that your EEG readings have returned to normal."
Archer was silent for a moment, digesting the information. Then he asked, "Did this... alteration cause any damage to our brains?"
Phlox shook his head. "It doesn't seem so, Captain. From what I've learned so far, it just... disappeared. There's no indication of neurological damage on any of my scans."
Archer considered this, then ran a hand through his hair and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "I need to talk to T'Pol. We've got to find out what-"
"Captain." Phlox' voice had changed, from clinically scientific to subdued, and Malcolm knew without looking at the doctor what was to come next. Briefly, he closed his eyes, inwardly steeling himself for what Phlox was going to say. The doctor was right, of course, Archer needed to know, both as Captain of the Enterprise and Trip's best friend. What made things even harder, however, was that said best friend didn't know about Trip's relationship with Malcolm Reed. Hell, until tonight no one had known - which Malcolm considered a small miracle, considering that they'd been together for almost half a year, on a starship with eighty-three people living in relatively close quarters. Might have been pure luck - or careful discretion especially on Malcolm's part - that no one had found out yet. Or maybe it was just that no one in their wildest dreams expected the two of them to be in a loving relationship - the outgoing Southerner and the uptight Brit, the popular Chief Engineer and the stiff, reticent Armory Officer, the man who was involved in every party and social event on Enterprise and the man who had to be dragged to said events by his hair so he participated at all. No, maybe it wasn't all that surprising that no one had become suspicious. Trip, of course, had often mentioned that he wanted to tell Jon about them - once or twice they'd even ended up arguing - but Malcolm had always felt reluctant about the idea, fearing that the crew - and the Captain in particular - would disapprove. He wanted his private life to be exactly that - private - and in the end, Trip had always, if grudgingly, respected Malcolm's wishes.
Now, however, the situation had changed, in a bad way, and Malcolm realized that not telling anyone simply wasn't an option anymore. Actually, there had been times when he'd almost agreed to tell the Captain, as he'd felt bad about forcing Trip to keep something so important from his best friend of nine years. But he'd never - never - intended for Archer to find out like this.
"Doctor?"
The Captain's questioning voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Phlox had folded his hands on the edge of the bed, and was obviously trying his hardest to appear calm.
"I believe there's something else you need to know."
The Captain raised his eyebrows, waiting for the doctor to go on.
Phlox briefly lowered his eyes before continuing. "There's been an... incident while you were on the planet. Commander Tucker..."
Again, the doctor hesitated. Archer sat up straighter.
"What about Trip? Is he alright?"
Phlox exchanged a look with Malcolm, and Malcolm saw the same helplessness he felt in the doctor's strange blue eyes.
"Not really. He..."
"What?" Archer demanded, now sounding positively alarmed. "Is he injured, or... doctor!"
Phlox straightened his back. "Commander Tucker has been sexually assaulted, Captain. I'm sorry."
Archer's face went pale. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and swallowed, hard, before he whispered: "What?"
Phlox continued quietly, "We noticed only a few hours after your return, since the Commander had locked himself into his quarters and refused to speak to anyone. It was Lieutenant Reed who was eventually successful in approaching Mr. Tucker."
The Captain slowly shook his head, as if to deny what he had heard. He swallowed again, then asked: "Do... do you know who did it?"
Phlox closed his eyes, then looked back at the Captain with the same sadness and regret Malcolm had seen when the doctor had informed him about the test results.
"Yes, Captain. I've analyzed a sample I took from the Commander, and the genetic material matches with that of Lieutenant Peters and Ensigns Kelsey and Florez. I can't tell you how sorry I am, Captain."
Malcolm saw his own shock and disbelief on the Captain's face. "They..." Archer's voice became a hoarse whisper. "They raped Trip?"
"It seems so, Captain." The doctor's eyes seemed overly bright, and Malcolm wasn't sure if it was only the reflected light from the ceiling lamp. "I have no other explanation for my findings."
Archer stared at Phlox for another second, then he slid off the bio bed. "Where is he?"
Malcolm surprised himself by speaking up. "He's over there, sir. He's still sleeping."
Without looking at either of them, the Captain crossed the short distance to Trip's bed and pulled the curtain aside. Malcolm hesitated, then he caught the doctor's eyes and saw Phlox nod. And he realized what the doctor was trying to tell him. If he was going to be there for his partner, it wasn't enough to help Trip and support him when he needed it the most. He couldn't simply shut everyone else out, and act as if this were a matter between him and Trip and nobody else.
Slowly, Malcolm walked across the room until he came to stand next to the Captain. Looking at Archer's face, he saw that the Captain's eyes were bright with tears, something Malcolm never thought he'd ever see.
"Captain," he said, and found himself resting a hand on Archer's arm. The Captain shook his head.
"Why?" he said softly, almost if he were talking to himself. "Why would they do such a thing?"
"I don't know," Malcolm answered. For a brief moment, he felt as if their roles were reversed, him being the one who gave the answers and offered support instead of the other way around. And it was then that Malcolm made a decision.
He reached out for Trip's hand and took it in both of his own, as he had done before. Archer turned his head and gave him a surprised look. Deep down in his stomach, Malcolm experienced a nervous flutter, but he forced his voice to sound calm.
"Captain, I... I want you to know that I'm going to be there for him."
Archer's eyes dropped to their joined hands, then traveled back up to Malcolm's face. For a moment, neither of them spoke, then Archer said quietly, "You never told me."
"No," Malcolm said, and felt a rush of hot shame. "That was my fault, Captain, I... I wasn't comfortable with the idea. I'm... sorry."
Archer nodded slowly, and his eyes returned to Trip. "He's going to need you," he said, so quietly that Malcolm almost didn't catch the words.
"Yes," Malcolm said. "I know."
Archer gave him a long look, the expression in his eyes inscrutable. For a while, he said nothing, and Malcolm realized that the Captain was measuring him, determined to make sure that he wouldn't become another source of hurt for his friend. Then, however, the Captain raised a hand and rested it on Malcolm's shoulder.
"I'm glad you say so, Malcolm."
Malcolm nodded, holding Archer's eyes until they both turned back to the sleeping Trip. And for the first time that night, Malcolm found himself feeling oddly relieved.
TBC
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