Title: Killing Thing

Author: Sita Z

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rating: PG 13

AN: Thanks for the feedback!

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Chapter 18

They had followed the brook for less than a mile when Malcolm saw that his first impression had been right: what had been a narrow bed of water only a few meters further up was turning into a fast flowing stream that would have left a grown man standing neck-deep in the water, had he tried to cross it by foot. Once the shallow hills began to rise on either side of the banks, the growth of reeds that had steadily accompanied the stream up to that point disappeared to be replaced by weeping willows. In the meantime, Malcolm didn't doubt that the knotty, gray trees with the drooping branches were indeed willows, even though their leaves were floating on a stream that had its origin several hundred light years away from Earth.

I wonder where they came from, though. He let his eyes wander across the peaceful tableau, trying to remember if he had - consciously or unconsciously - imagined weeping willows next to "their brook", as he had come to think of it. He couldn't remember doing so, but that didn't mean the picture hadn't been there, hidden somewhere deep inside his mind.

I think that one came from me, Trip's mind-voice spoke up. Malcolm turned to his partner, who smiled and continued aloud: "There's a small river like that near my parents' house in Florida."

An image appeared in Malcolm's mind: a band of green water, snaking its way through equally green meadows, its water spotted with leaves from the weeping willows that grew alongside its banks. A second later, a splash disrupted the quiet scene, followed by the shouts and laughter of three children. The brief flash of memory provided Malcolm only with the image of three bobbing heads, their blond hair darkened by the water, and yet he somehow knew he was seeing nine-year-old Trip and his siblings going "skinny-dipping". A feeling of joy and fondness accompanied the images, along with an almost shy glance from Trip, and Malcolm realized that, by sharing this memory, Trip had allowed him a look at something very private.

Touched and pleased, Malcolm gave his partner's hand a quick squeeze, hoping to convey that he understood why this particular memory was so important to Trip. It had been a perfect day, the thing that always came to Trip's mind when he thought of summer and laughter and the taste of melting ice-cream on his tongue. Malcolm smiled at the image of Andy pouncing on his younger brother and giving him a good dunk under the water, laughing when Trip emerges again and shakes his head to get the water out of his ears. They had been happy that day, swimming, teaching Lizzy to do the backstroke and buying cherry snow-cones on their way back home, half of which they dribbled all over their shirts and shorts. It wasn't anything special - like a wonderful first date or a great personal success - and yet Trip had preserved the memory in his mind, as well as the happiness that accompanied it.

Malcolm held on to his partner's hand, sensing that there was no need to say anything. They continued on their way along the banks, and it was only when Malcolm felt a slight shudder run through Trip's arm that he remembered they had been walking non-stop for nearly an hour.

Not exactly what Phlox meant when he talked about "lying down and allowing your body to recuperate", he thought sourly, angry with himself for simply forgetting that Trip wasn't up to a longer hike.

"I think we should rest for a while," he said, purposely speaking his thoughts aloud. Starting a telepathic argument with his partner seemed just a little too weird for his tastes.

Trip didn't look happy, but another shudder, this one more violent than the first, decided him. Malcolm realized - or rather, saw in Trip's mind - that Trip had been feeling less than hundred percent even as they had started their walk, and was now trying hard not to let show how exhausted he was.

Malcolm didn't miss the careful way Trip lowered himself to the ground as they sat down under one of the trees, or the way he briefly closed his eyes as if to suppress another pained shudder. He opened his mouth to ask why Trip hadn't said anything, but before he could say a word he saw in Trip's mind that it had simply never occurred to the other man. Just like he himself, Trip sensed that this was important, maybe more important than anything that had happened to them so far in this place. Interrupting their walk for a mere "ache" (as Trip termed it in his thoughts) wasn't something Trip would have seriously considered.

Malcolm decided to postpone his lecture (and the inevitable bickering session that would follow) and opened the medkit, taking out the small handscanner.

"Should be all right," he said, and sensed Trip's relief along with his own. In this case, "all right" meant that there was going to be no seizure, at least not this time. Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew that another attack would have put a quick end to their hike. Malcolm had a feeling that, back on Enterprise or in fact, any other place than here, Trip would have suffered a seizure, his body reacting to the strain that it wasn't prepared to deal with so soon after a previous attack. However, Trip's bio readings were clearly dropping back to normal, and Malcolm had no intention of looking a gift horse in the mouth. If they had prevented the seizure simply by wishing there would be none, then it was fine with him.

Malcolm stowed the medkit into the backpack, his eyes absentmindedly tracing the drift of leaves in the water when he saw something that made him stop in his tracks. On the opposite side of the stream, almost hidden under a large root, grew a bunch of small white flowers. Of course, at a distance of more than five meters there was no way of telling their exact shape and color, but somehow Malcolm found that he knew those flowers. He had seen them before, arranged in a rather disorderly bouquet and stuffed into the small ugly plastic vase that had served as a centerpiece at Maddy's horrible tea parties for her dolls and stuffed animals.

Next to him, Trip raised his head, and Malcolm realized - somewhat embarrassedly - that the strange mental picture hadn't stayed unnoticed. The image of his five-year-old sister entered his mind, perched on a chair at her "tea table" and smiling. His own eight-year-old self was sitting on the opposite chair, face red with embarrassment and only too aware of the fact that he was "drinking tea" in the company of a large turtle called Mr. Howell (Maddy's favorite of the month) and an assortment of dolls whose plastic grins seemed to snigger at his predicament. Maddy, still bearing the somewhat pinched look of someone who hasn't been outside for a long time, was laughing and talking a mile a minute, excited that her big brother had actually accepted her "invitation" (which had arrived in the form of a crumpled sheet with "Malcolm" scrawled on it in large, spiky letters). Raising the plastic teapot, she offered Malcolm another "cuppa", all the while keeping the conversation going ("We are so happy that you could come, Mr. Reed - aren't we, Mr. Howell?" - "Yes, of course we are!"). For a moment, Malcolm saw what his eight-year-old self had seen - the blue vase full of wilting daisies, Mr. Howell, who had tilted forward on his chair and was getting dangerously close to drowning in his cup of "tea", and Maddy with a smile on her face, her pale cheeks reddened with excitement.

He held onto the image for a second, remembering the mixture of embarrassment, amusement and affection for his "baby sister", never mind what a pain in the arse she could be if she set her mind to it.

Malcolm became aware of a movement beside him and turned his head, half-expecting to find Trip in stitches at the image of his partner drinking tap water out of a blue plastic cup and having a conversation with a large stuffed turtle. Instead, however, Trip was regarding him with a thoughtful smile.

"It was the summer after she was sick, wasn't it?" he asked.

Malcolm nodded, remembering long hours spent in the hospital's waiting room while his parents talked to the doctor, nights when he had lain awake and listened to them arguing - and, once or twice, crying - in their bedroom across the hall.

"They didn't expect her to survive," he said quietly. "I overheard my father talking to my aunt on the phone one evening, telling her that the doctor had said that Maddy might not make it through the night. She came over after that, to look after me while my parents were at the hospital. We sat on the couch all night, waiting for the phone to ring. At four in the morning, it finally did." He smiled a little, feeling strangely self-conscious about what he was going to say next. "It's strange... when I think about it, what I remember best is the tea party she held on the first day she was allowed to stay up for a few hours. I'm not sure why, but that was when I finally realized she was going to be alright. The doctor said she would make a full recovery, but I guess I didn't really believe it until then." He glanced at Trip. "Sounds sort of stupid when you put it that way, doesn't it?"

Trip shook his head. "Doesn't sound stupid at all." An arm came to rest on Malcolm's shoulder, and he was pulled closer to the other man. "Carin' 'bout your family is never stupid, Mal."

"No..."

"And you did great. I don't think a lot of kids that age would've picked up on how much Maddy needed you then. She did, didn't she?"

Malcolm nodded, thinking of the arguments and periods of cold silence that had continued for a long time even after Maddy had recovered. "I guess she did."

Yeah, Trip continued. And you were there for her. Y'always are.

Somewhat embarrassed at what he saw in Trip's mind, Malcolm shook his head, trying for a dry smile. "I'm hardly a saint, Trip."

Trip chuckled. "Saint Malcolm." They both smiled, and Malcolm felt the arm on his shoulders tighten.

"I guess you're not," Trip said softly. "It's what you do, though. Bein' there for people. Protectin' them." Protectin' me.

Images appeared in Malcolm's mind, of a Malcolm he hardly recognized as himself. This man was calm, confident in a way Malcolm knew he would never even come close to, and he was... well, Malcolm would have described himself as too short, too pale, with a bush of dark hair that needed trimming every month to prevent it from getting too excited. The man in Trip's mind however was actually handsome, in a mysterious way that piqued people's interest. He was funny, smart, caring, and - that was one thing Malcolm did recognize - he worried about things, sometimes to a fault. Other than that, however...

"I'm not like that, Trip," Malcolm said quietly.

Trip only smiled. "Oh yes, y'are. You just don't see it yourself."

Malcolm opened his mouth to contradict when Trip's voice continued in his mind: I guess there's always light-years between the way we see ourselves and the way other people see us. Y'know, I'm not like you see me either.

Malcolm gave his partner a sideways glance. "How do I see you?"

Trip's smile turned into a somewhat rueful expression. "You make me look like I'm Mr. Perfect. Like you're the lucky one that I'd want to be with you."

But I am. It was something Malcolm had never even begun to doubt, and it still amazed him at times that this brilliant, handsome man, who could have had anyone, would want someone like Malcolm Reed in his life.

Malcolm. Trip sighed. That's bull, and you know it. Brilliant doesn't get into trouble every other day because he can't keep his goddamn mouth shut. And as to the handsome... I'm not sure if it applies to a guy who still gets his bout of spots when he's stressed out, even though he's been on the wrong side of puberty for more than a decade.

Malcolm almost laughed out loud at Trip's description of himself; it was so absurd, and even funnier since he saw in his partner's thoughts that this actually was how Trip saw himself.

"Trip... I guess most of the women on Enterprise think it's a bloody waste that you, of all people, would be with a man. Hoshi told me that two of your Engineering staff actually had a fight over you a few months ago."

Trip looked at him with something akin to horror. "What?"

Malcolm bit his lip to keep his emerging grin out of sight. "I'm not going to name any names here, but she told me it was quite the showdown. Apparently, both ladies had been planning for months to, well, "put the move on you", and neither of them was happy to learn that the other one had similar intentions. Rumor has it that one of them ended up in sickbay with a screwdriver wound on her hand, but Hoshi thinks it might have been a mere scratch. People tend to exaggerate these things."

At least that's what I keep telling myself, his mind insisted on adding. I'd hate to be stabbed to death in a dark Jefferies tube one day... not a very dignified way to die.

Malcolm glanced at Trip and had to bite back another grin when he saw the blush that had spread on the engineer's face.

"You're kiddin' me," Trip said.

Malcolm shook his head. "No, really. I'd better watch my back when we go back to Enterprise."

Finally, a reluctant smile crept onto Trip's face. "Y'know, this is one piece of information I could've done without."

Malcolm answered his smile. Sorry, love. It's true what you said, though: We never see ourselves the way other people see us.

Trip nodded, his eyes returning to the stream. "I wonder if all of this..." - he waved his hand, his gesture including the willows and the bunch of white flowers on the opposite bank - "...is a mere coincidence. Seems to me like... like they're tryin' to make a point."

Malcolm knew that Trip was talking about the Mayiari; by now, neither of them doubted that there were more of them, although the "fox" had been their only visitor so far. At times, you could almost feel their presence; calm, observant eyes that followed you wherever you went.

"I guess so," he said slowly. "Although I'm still not sure what it is that they want us to do. I wish they'd be a little more precise about their intentions."

Trip smiled and began to get to his feet. "Well, we're not gonna find out what they want if we keep sittin' around doin' nothin'."

Malcolm hesitated. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"I'm okay, Malcolm." Trip held out his hand to help Malcolm to his feet, and smiled. "Really. Besides, you'd know it if I wasn't."

Malcolm allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. "I guess you're right."

He hoisted up the backpack before Trip could do so - the engineer glared at him, but seemed to decide that arguing about it would be an exercise in futility - and turned to his partner.

"Well, let's get going."

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When they reached the waterfall half an hour later, Malcolm wasn't sure what surprised him more: the sudden change in the landscape, or the fact that, in some strange way, he had know all along that this was what they were going to find at the end of "their" creek.

The waterfall wasn't high, not really; the cascade tumbled down maybe three or four meters, and the noise that accompanied it was only a low rumble compared with the roar that surrounded large falls like Niagara. Still, Malcolm was impressed, not so much by the fall than by the small lake beneath: its water was of a clear, turquoise color, like the sky above a Pacific island, and except for the rippling waves where the cascade hit the surface, it seemed to be perfectly still. The same willows that grew alongside the river surrounded it on all sides, some of them stooping so low that almost all of their branches were floating on the water. Close to the shore, Malcolm could see several white specks surrounded by green that he recognized as water lilies.

"Wow," Trip said next to his ear, and Malcolm couldn't help but agree. Usually, he wasn't given to cries of delight over any body of water, but this was different; somehow, he knew that this place was no danger. Here, he was in control, and if he decided that he wasn't going to drown, well, then he wouldn't. As simple as that.

"It's beautiful," he said quietly.

They climbed down the embankment next to the waterfall, and Malcolm found that he actually enjoyed the way the tiny droplets from the cascade tingled on his face. Trip smiled at him, and, once they were standing on the sand that stretched alongside the shore, began to pull down the zipper of his uniform, kicking off his boots at the same time.

Malcolm stared at him. "What are you doing?"

Trip shrugged off his black uniform shirt and dropped it onto the sand, where it joined his boots and the discarded overall. He grinned. "What's it look like I'm doin'?"

Whatever it is, I'm not complaining, Malcolm's mind commented before he could stop it, and Trip burst out laughing. In the meantime, his blue undershirt had followed the black one, and he tugged off his briefs, dropping them on top of the pile. Then he turned to Malcolm, still grinning.

"Last one in's a rotten egg!"

Malcolm, rendered speechless by Trip's impromptu striptease, could only watch as Trip turned around again and raced towards the shore, splashing through the water until it came up to his thighs and then flinging himself down with a joyous whoop. A second later, his wet and tousled head broke through the surface again, and he waved impatiently.

"Come on in, Mal!"

Malcolm could think of a dozen possible answers to this request - all of them implying that there was no way he was jumping into an alien lake, or even going near it - but instead of scoffing at the idea, he laughed and bent down to take off his own boots.

A few minutes later, Malcolm found himself carefully wading into the water, which felt pleasantly warm, and not at all like the cold, salty sea that he hated so much. The sandy ground under his feet declined at a shallow angle, giving him time to adjust to the feeling of the water coming up to his thighs, his waist, and finally his chest. Trip, who had been treading water a few meters further ahead, came over and touched his arm.

"You okay?"

Malcolm took some time to consider, and finally nodded. He was okay, and, for the first time in his life, even enjoying the feeling of water surrounding his body. The lake was clear enough for him to see bits of seaweed next to his feet, and a few tiny, translucent fish whizzing past nearby. There was no current he could feel, no tugging at his feet that might have indicated quicksand or a whirlpool. Everything was just... fine.

He turned to Trip and smiled - wanly, but it was a real, genuine smile, and Malcolm was proud of it.

"This is lovely."

Trip laughed, but in a kind way, and Malcolm saw in his partner's mind how much Trip admired him for challenging his fears in such a way.

"How 'bout we take a swim, just along the shore?" he asked, and Malcolm nodded resolutely. He began to swim, careful to stay where he knew he could still touch the ground. Trip swam next to him, a few meters away so they wouldn't hamper each other's movements but still close enough for Malcolm to feel reassured by his presence. Malcolm saw in Trip's thoughts how much the other man enjoyed being in the water, and after a while some of Trip's confidence took hold of his own mind, allowing him to relax. Greatly daring, he ducked his head under the surface and did a few strokes without coming up for air, which wasn't half as terrible as he had expected.

As he came up again, he saw that Trip had turned around and was floating spread-eagled on his back. The silly grin on his face made Malcolm smile.

"I wish we had a pool back on Enterprise," Trip said as if on cue, never opening his eyes. "You'd never see my face in the gym again."

Malcolm laughed. "You know, Captain Archer might actually go along with the idea."

At this, Trip opened one eye. "Ya think so?"

"He said he'd like to have a pool to play water polo," Malcolm replied, swimming a little closer to Trip. The engineer turned around again.

"Could be our next engineerin' project," he said. "Cargo Hold 2 is big enough, and if we rerouted some of the pipes from B-deck..."

Malcolm snorted. "I don't think Starfleet would be very happy if they found you redesigned their flagship's interior to include a swimming pool."

Trip laughed at Malcolm's mental picture of the Command staff hitting the roof. "No, I guess not. Still, I'm gonna recommend the idea to R&D. Enterprise A is gonna have an in-built pool if I get any say in the matter."

Malcolm smiled, then turned around and began to swim towards the shore. As nice as his first time to go skinny-dipping was turning out to be, he still quite liked the idea of solid ground under his feet.

"Don't have to," he called over his shoulder when he saw that Trip was starting to follow him. "I'll just go and sit on the shore for a while."

Trip shook his head, which reminded Malcolm of a dog shaking off droplets of rainwater. "Naw," he said. "I think I'm gonna do the sunbathin' thing for a while."

It was all he said, but Malcolm read in his thoughts that Trip was thinking of what might happen if he stayed in the water for a longer period of time... and that, in the middle of a lake, a seizure would not only be painful; it would be fatal. Not wanting to spoil the mood, Malcolm quietly accepted Trip's explanation and began to wade towards the shore. Their lack of towels turned out to be no problem; the sun had gained strength since they had left the campsite in the morning, and it was warm enough to "do the sunbathing thing" without drying off first. Malcolm stretched out on the warm sand and smiled at Trip who flopped down next to him.

"That was nice," he said.

"It was," Trip agreed, rolled onto his stomach and rested his head on his arms. "Y'know, for someone who's-" ...afraid of drowning... "-who doesn't like the water, you do a good breaststroke."

Malcolm had caught Trip's thought, but he didn't feel offended; it was true, he was afraid of drowning, and he knew that Trip understood that there was nothing he could do about it.

"Well, my father insisted that I take swimming lessons," he said. After twenty-five years, the memory of a small, skinny boy, holding onto the railing of the pool and screaming at the top of his voice (after half an hour the instructor had given up his "gentle coaxing" and had simply decided to drag his reluctant charge into the water) almost elicited a smile from him. Almost. "It actually was a good thing he did, or I wouldn't have passed the Starfleet physical exams. Swimming's required if you want to do Security."

Trip closed his eyes. "Bet ya hated it as a kid, though."

"Like the plague," Malcolm said, and they both laughed.

They lay in silence for a while, and Malcolm felt his eyes drifting closed. The sun on his skin and Trip's warm presence close by were making him sleepy, and he had almost dozed off when he felt an arm sliding around his bare waist. Never opening his eyes, Malcolm smiled and closed his hand on Trip's, squeezing it gently. Trip mumbled something unintelligible and Malcolm realized that his partner was also close to nodding off. He let his mind drift for a while, listening to the soft murmur of Trip's thoughts, and, just as he had decided that telepathy wasn't such a bad thing after all, Malcolm Reed fell asleep.

TBC...

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