Title: Killing Thing

Author: Sita Z

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rating: PG 13

AN: Thanks for your reviews :)!

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Chapter 9

Several weeks ago, Trip had persuaded Malcolm to visit the "sweet spot" with him, Travis' usual off-duty haunt and one of the very few places on the ship untouched by the artificial gravity emitters. So far, Malcolm had been reluctant to go anywhere near the place, remembering only too well the effect anti-grav training at the Academy had had on him. Once again, however, Trip doing the puppy eyes routine had done him in, and he had followed Trip to sit upside down on the ceiling, finding to his surprise that Enterprise's sweet spot was nowhere near as terrible as the dreaded "Vomitorium" back at the Starfleet training center. Having a picnic hanging upside down from the ceiling, Malcolm had felt a little like Dr. Phlox' bat, but at the same time he found the experience strangely exhilarating - not least because Trip was grinning like the Cheshire cat all the time, happy that his "surprise date", as he called it, was a success.

Trip had surprised him further by describing to him exactly where the other two sweet spots were, as well as three "blind spots", places hidden deeply in the maze of Jefferies tubes that couldn't be checked by ship's scanners.

"It's where the power grids are overlappin'," Trip had said, munching on the potato chips he'd brought for their anti-grav picnic. "The energy flux's simply too strong for the scanners to pick up anythin'." He had grinned. "It's where I'd hide if I were a stowaway."

Malcolm had smiled back at the time, glad that Trip had told him - those places could indeed prove a security risk, especially if the Chief of Security didn't know about them.

Now, as he was running down the corridors, Malcolm was frantically going through his internal map of ship's systems, trying to determine which one of those blind spots Trip would have gone to.

Jefferies tube 34, section F, he thought, praying that he was right. It was the place closest to Trip's quarters, and the easiest to access, compared with the other two places that took a ten minutes journey to get to.

Malcolm punched the button to call the turbolift, a sharp pain shooting through his hand as his finger hit the panel. He swore under his breath, cradling his injured right hand to his chest and barely refrained from kicking the turbolift door when it didn't open immediately. For a second, he considered calling the transporter team and ordering them to do an emergency beam-out, but then he remembered that there was no way the transporter beam could lock onto anything within one of the blind spots. Which was, of course, why Trip would have chosen to go there.

Malcolm closed his eyes. Trip wasn't stupid, he knew that Phlox would notice at once if his bio sign disappeared, and would notify the Captain. Whatever he was about to do, Trip would know that he had to do it fast if he wanted it to work. And, Malcolm thought with a sinking feeling of realization, remembering the empty look in Trip's eyes, he was quite sure that Charles Tucker couldn't have been more serious about it.

Finally, the turbolift doors opened, and Malcolm went inside, about to jab the button for E deck when someone called his name.

"Malcolm, wait!"

Captain Archer came running down the corridor, and after a moment's hesitation, Malcolm waited until he had reached the lift doors. If Trip wasn't in the first blind spot, they could split up to check the other two. Once Archer was inside, Malcolm pressed the button, remembering just in time to use his left hand this time.

"You shouldn't go there on your own," Archer said quietly. For a moment, Malcolm had no idea what the Captain was talking about, then: "I'm not going to Trip's quarters, sir," he said.

Briefly, he explained about the blind spots. There was a look of doubt in Archer's eyes, but he said nothing, and Malcolm was glad he didn't.

The turbolift doors opened again and Malcolm all but squeezed out, almost bumping into Dr. Phlox who had apparently been waiting for them to arrive.

"He's not in his quarters," Phlox said. He was breathing heavily as if he had run all the way there from sickbay. "I used the override to get inside, but they were empty."

Malcolm never stopped to answer, running down the corridor towards the section where he knew the nearest access to the Jefferies tubes to be. Somewhere behind him, he heard running steps and the Captain calling his name, but he never even turned around. Malcolm had never been in the habit of praying - praying was relying on things he didn't understand, and Malcolm was loath to do so - but now he did, the same words running through his head like a frantic chant: Don't let me be too late, please, please, don't let me be too late.

He ripped the access panel to the tube off the wall and dropped the metal plate to the floor. Jefferies tube 34 didn't look any different from the others, a gray tunnel with a metal grate for a floor and ducts running along the low ceiling. At the very end of this tube, however, Malcolm knew there was a tiny space, no more than two meters by two meters, that was one of the first places on the ship to check for a stowaway - or someone who didn't want to be disturbed in what he was doing.

He climbed inside, stooping as he began to walk along the narrow passage. Behind him, he could hear someone following him inside, the Captain, or maybe the doctor, but he never looked back. His voice echoed strangely in the cramped space.

"Trip!"

There was no answer, and Malcolm called out again, hoping for any noise that would betray another presence in there. The tube remained silent, however, and finally Malcolm reached the crossway leading to the blind spot. The light from the corridor behind was growing dimmer, and since Malcolm hadn't brought a flashlight, there was only the weak glow from the occasional wall panel to guide his way.

He went around the corner, and for a second froze in his tracks. Twenty meters ahead, exactly within the confines of the blind spot, lay a crumpled figure on the deck.

"Trip!"

Malcolm thought his legs would give out, but somehow he managed to cross the distance, dropping to his knees next to the unmoving body.

"Oh my God, Trip..."

Trip lay on his side, and when Malcolm grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him over, he saw a reddish froth coming out of the engineer's mouth, dripping onto the metal grate below. Then he saw the hypospray lying on the floor.

"Move aside, Lieutenant!"

Malcolm was pushed to one side, Dr. Phlox taking his place with a scanner in his hand. "It's not working," the doctor said as he frantically recalibrated the settings. "We need to get him out of here."

Suddenly Archer was there, grabbing Malcolm's shoulder and shaking him out of his numbness. "Help me, Malcolm!"

He stepped over Trip's still body and grabbed him under the armpits, leaving it to Malcolm to lift up Trip's legs. As quickly as they could moving within the confined space, they carried Trip towards the exit of the tube, more than once bumping their heads and elbows on the metal walls. Phlox was following them, still working on his scanner which had ceased to function within the blind spot. Suddenly he grabbed Malcolm's arm from behind, almost causing him to stumble. "Put him down immediately!"

Malcolm opened his mouth, but the doctor only pushed him aside, kneeling down next to Trip whose body had gone into convulsions. As he stared down at the twitching form, Malcolm was shocked and infinitely relieved at the same time - dead people couldn't suffer a seizure.

"There's a toxic substance in his bloodstream," Phlox said, quickly running the now-working scanner over Trip's body. "Captain, hold him down so he doesn't hurt himself. Lieutenant, you turn his head to one side and clear his airways. Quick!"

They did as they were told, Malcolm forcing Trip's mouth open and sticking two fingers inside, reaming out as much of the bloodied froth as he could reach. Trip's face was deadly pale, and he was still shivering violently even after Phlox had stopped the convulsions with an injection.

"Is he..." Archer began, but the doctor cut him off.

"His body's fighting a losing battle against the poison, Captain. We need to get to him to sickbay as quickly as possible. I've called a med team, they should be here by now."

Malcolm and Archer didn't wait for Phlox to finish his sentence. Once the seizure was easing, they picked up the limp body and all but dragged him the last few meters to the entrance. Froth was still running out of Trip's mouth, leaving foamy, pinkish spots on his sweater and the floor.

The medical team was waiting outside, Liz Cutler and another med tech taking Trip and securing him on a gurney. Phlox climbed out of the Jefferies tube with uncharacteristic haste.

"Five milligram of Atropin!" he called out to Cutler, who quickly pulled out another hypospray and injected Trip. When she was done, the two male med techs lifted the gurney and began to jog down the corridor, followed by Phlox who was holding up his hand scanner and studying the data on the small screen. Malcolm made as if to go after them, but was stopped by Archer's hand on his arm.

"Wait," the Captain said. "We'd only be in their way."

Malcolm considered freeing his arm and following them all the same when he realized that Archer was right. Phlox and his team didn't need anyone under their feet as they tried to save Trip's life. His legs seemed to agree with the idea, suddenly giving out under him so that Malcolm found himself leaning on Archer's hand for support. The Captain hadn't let go of him, and now helped him sit down on the floor.

"It's okay," he said, of all things sounding as he did when talking to a frightened Porthos. The absurdity of the situation would have drawn a laugh from Malcolm, had he been able to utter any sound at the moment. Archer sat down next to him on the floor.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Inside the Jefferies tube, after they had discovered Trip in the blind spot, a rational part of Malcolm's mind had taken over, not allowing any emotional reaction until Trip lay safely on the gurney. Now the shock was working its way through his system, and Malcolm had a hard time controlling the trembling of his arms and legs. Seeing Trip convulsing on the floor, blood and saliva bubbling from his mouth, was a thing he knew he would never forget.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "You okay?"

Malcolm managed to nod, and began to climb to his feet. "I have to go to sickbay."

Archer nodded and got up himself. He looked paler than usual, his hands shaking slightly as he straightened up into a standing position. "Lead the way."

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Silence greeted them as they entered sickbay's main room, and for a second Malcolm had the awful image of Phlox drawing a sheet over a still form, shaking his head in regret when he became aware of Malcolm and the Captain. The doctor, however, was nowhere to be seen, and the beds that lined the far end of the room were empty, their bio screens dark.

"Dr. Phlox had the Commander taken into the OR," Liz Cutler suddenly said from behind, making them both jump. The young crewman sat at one of the computer monitors, an array of test tubes lined up in front of her. She looked pale. "He's managed to stabilize him, and is now trying to filter the poison out of his system."

Malcolm swallowed hard, the image of Trip dying on a bio bed still vividly in mind. "Does that... does that mean he'll make it?"

Cutler sighed. "I don't know, Lieutenant. If the poison's too strong, or has affected his vital organs..." She didn't finish her sentence, gesturing at the samples in front of her. "The doctor has me working on a stronger antidote, if the filtering doesn't work."

"Carry on, Crewman," Archer said, laying a hand on Malcolm's arm. "We'll wait here."

"Aye, sir." She gave him a rather shaky smile. Archer nodded, and gently but firmly pulled Malcolm away from her, to the back of the room. Malcolm allowed himself to be guided to a chair, wincing as he bumped his bruised hand on the armrest.

"What about Peters, Captain?" he asked, the pain clearing his thoughts for the first time since he had seen Trip lying on the floor of the Jefferies tube. "The Subcommander..."

"... has everything under control," Archer said. "I called Ensigns Schwartz and Hsan before I left. They're going to take them back to their quarters."

"Peters is injured, sir," Malcolm said quietly. He couldn't bring himself to meet the Captain's eyes.

"I'm sure someone took care of him," Archer said, although Malcolm couldn't help but notice that he didn't sound quite as concerned as he would have under normal circumstances. "Phlox will have a look at him when... when he finds the time."

Malcolm nodded, lowering his head again. He didn't speak for a long time, and when he did, it came out as a whisper.

"Why would he do such a thing?"

Archer's face was troubled, and it took a while before he answered. "I don't know, Malcolm." He remained silent for a while. "Frankly, I'm still trying to understand what happened here at all. There's... so much going on that I didn't know about... you may call me oblivious, but I never had any idea about you and Trip being together. Hell, I didn't even know that he went that way. Or you, for that matter. Not that it bothers me, but..." He sighed. "I wish he'd told me. And I wish I could've done something to prevent all of this."

"He wanted to tell you about us, Captain," Malcolm said quietly. "He said he felt like a bastard, keeping it from you, but I talked him out of it." A trace of shame crept into his voice. "I... I didn't want anyone to know. I... was afraid..." He trailed off. He wasn't quite sure what he had been afraid of. Maybe it was only his ingrained need for privacy wanting to shut out everybody else. Or maybe... the thought brought another rush of shame. Maybe he had been ashamed of himself. Maybe the idea of being in a relationship with another man hadn't quite fit in with Lieutenant Reed's self-image, even though he loved Trip with all his heart. Maybe he had been a total and complete arsehole, not the slightest bit better than Lieutenant Peters.

Malcolm rested his head on his hands. "I'm... sorry, Captain. I guess it's my fault he couldn't turn to me for help. He deserves better than that."

Archer crouched down in front of him, pulling Malcolm's hands away from his face. "What are you talking about, Malcolm?"

Malcolm swallowed. "Trip... he decided to end our relationship. He told me last night."

Archer's eyes rested on him for another moment, then he turned away, his face settling into angry lines. Malcolm waited, determined to take everything the Captain was going to say. It was going to hurt, hearing that he had let Trip down, that it was his fault Trip had tried - and maybe succeeded - to kill himself, but at the same time Malcolm wanted to hear it said aloud - wanted it acknowledged.

Archer turned back to him. "You know," he said softly, "it's not easy for me to say this. Trip's become like family to me. Being that close means that I know him very well, maybe even more so than you do." He paused. "And I know he can be a selfish bastard at times."

Whatever Malcolm had expected to hear, it wasn't this. "Captain?"

"Trip's never been good at keeping a relationship because he tends to run," Archer said. "As soon as there's trouble on the horizon, he shuts people out. Not because he doesn't care about them anymore; it's just that he wants to deal with everything on his own, fix it like he fixes his engines. And if that doesn't work, he believes it's his fault, and leaves. Because he's done enough damage already, and doesn't know how to cope with the hurt." Archer sighed. "That's where the selfish part comes in. Trip tries to escape his problems instead of dealing with them. And I guess that's why he's in there right now, because running away didn't work out this time."

Malcolm said nothing. Maybe, deep down, he could sympathize with Archer's words, felt angry at Trip for doing such a thing instead of coming to him for help, but it didn't really matter. If Trip died in there, it didn't matter why he had done it, and who was to blame.

"It's not your fault, Malcolm." Archer searched his face before he added, "You understand that, don't you?"

Malcolm shrugged and lowered his eyes. I wasn't there when he injected himself with that hypospray. How can it not be my fault?

He spared Archer the question, however. The Captain's best friend was possibly dying in there, and Malcolm didn't want Archer to feel obliged to comfort Trip's whining lover.

"Malcolm...," Archer began, but was interrupted by the sound of a door swishing open. They turned around to see Phlox coming out of the OR, taking off his surgical gloves and dropping them onto the counter. He looked exhausted.

Archer got up, as did Malcolm and Liz Cutler. "Doctor?"

Phlox sighed. "We nearly lost him for a moment there, but... he's going to make it."

The Captain only stood there, his shoulders sagging as if someone had taken a heavy weight off them. Liz smiled, and Malcolm closed his eyes. He didn't want to cry, not again; he had done enough crying. Eventually, to his relief, the stinging sensation lessened. Malcolm opened his eyes again... and felt a smile spread on his face.

TBC...

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