Malcolm kept catching himself casting glances to where Trip lay on the bed beside his. All of this seemed entirely unreal, and yet there the man was, smiling and talking, flirting with the medics, a bit banged up but really none the worse for wear. He looked in better shape than Malcolm was himself.
Trip said something that Malcolm figured was a joke, so he tried to respond with the appropriate smile.
The medics had moved Malcolm to the bed beside Trip's, and he was grateful to be lying there, rather than in the other ward. He could barely believe that Trip was right there, and alive.
"Malcolm?"
"What?" Malcolm replied, startled out of his reverie.
Trip frowned slightly. "You haven't heard a thing I said."
"Sorry."
Trip swung his legs over the side of his bed, fully facing Malcolm. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Malcolm said.
"You don't look so 'fine'." Trip nodded to where Malcolm's hands were propped on his chest, the sheets twisted between his fingers. "You're holding on to that blanket for dear life."
Malcolm looked at his fingers, which had blanched white from the grip he held on the blanket. He concentrated and managed to release the fabric. "Sorry," he said again, not sure of how to answer.
"You don't need to be sorry," Trip said, leaning forward slightly to close the distance between their beds. "You just need to..." He shook his head. "Listen, how long have you been here?"
"I'm not sure," Trip's brow furrowed, and Malcolm felt his anxiety increasing, his words coming fast and furious. "I'm not certain. I couldn't ask, or talk to anyone. I didn't know what the hell was going on, and couldn't do anything about it anyway." Malcolm could feel his heart beating in his chest, each pulse echoing in his ears. He took a slow, deep breath, making a conscious effort to relax.
Trip was watching him with a thoughtful expression. Then Trip slid off his mattress, going to the foot of Malcolm's bed and pulling the chart from the hook where it hung. He held it, and the translator, out to Malcolm. "Want to read and find out?"
Malcolm shook his head. "I can barely see straight. Would you mind?"
Trip held his eye for a moment, then looked down at the file in his hands. He lifted the translator and began reading. After a while, he glanced to Malcolm, then back down, still reading.
Malcolm watched him nervously. "Are you planning to keep me in suspense?" he finally asked, trying to make a joke of it.
Trip returned to his bed, sitting sideways and facing Malcolm, the file open on his lap. Head down and reading, he said, "From what I can tell via the translator, this says that you had a concussion, hearing loss, an injury to your side, and an operation for internal bleeding." He paused, still reading through the chart.
"Is there something else?" Malcolm said, trying to keep his tone light.
At last Trip looked up at him. "I'm not sure I should be reading this."
Malcolm sobered. "Go on."
Trip held his eye. "It mentions an altered mental state. That you've been having nightmares, dissociation." His eyes returned to the file. "Exaggerated startle response. Patient may be hallucinating, but with language barrier..." Trip frowned and looked up. "You okay?"
Malcolm smiled but it felt false. "Nothing I haven't dealt with before. Just from all that..." He waved a hand to encompass Trip, the hospital, and himself. "Eventually, it passes."
Trip nodded but didn't seem appeased.
In what he knew was an obvious attempt to change the subject, Malcolm said, "Have you heard anything about Enterprise?"
Trip gave him a pointed look before he said, "Yeah, actually." He closed the file and placed it on the mattress beside him. "I've been trying to send them a message through the official channels, but I had to get in line behind everyone else who's been trying to contact their governments and families. The person I spoke to said that it will probably take another day or so."
"They're still here?" Malcolm asked, feeling hope for the first time in days.
"They're involved in some of the relief efforts on the other side of the city."
"So, they don't know that we're..."
"Not yet, no." The side of Trip's mouth curled up faintly. "But they will."
Malcolm's fingers worried the edge of his blanket. "How did you get out?" he asked, not saying, I thought you were dead. I've had dreams of you dying.
Trip's smile broadened. "Building collapsed around me and a panel from the bathroom wall fell over me, basically shielding me from the worst of the debris. Took them a full day to dig me out, but out of there I did get." Trip's smile softened. "It's good to see you." He reached a hand out, crossing the space between their beds. Malcolm answered with his own gesture and their fingers brushed before he winced at the pull in his side and had to drop his arm.
x-x
Malcolm watched the shadows on the ceiling, the ward dim and not quite silent around him. It was late, so what talk there was, was quiet, and the hospital seemed relatively peaceful.
Turning his head to the side, he watched Trip sleep in the bed next to his. He'd always been envious of Trip's ability to kip, no matter the circumstances. The man had a serious gift.
The events of the day had left Malcolm spent, and he had been hoping that he'd conk right out. And he had for a while, but then the dreams had returned, more vivid than ever. And now he was lying there and staring at Trip instead of at the ceiling, afraid to even try again because sleep meant dreams, and dreams meant nightmares, and he'd really rather not.
He'd thought he'd been past all that.
In the end, he figured Trip had been there for five days, so Malcolm had been there for, maybe, six. Without news from the outside, he wasn't really sure. He supposed he could ask the staff or figure it out from his own chart, but in the end, it really didn't matter how long they'd been there. What mattered was how soon they could get out.
He'd thought Trip dead for close to a week. He hadn't even been able to ask anyone. A week, while Trip had been next ward over, while Malcolm had been helpless and worse than useless.
Trip seemed to be handling all this so well. The man had actually been trapped under the rubble for a day - Malcolm couldn't imagine what he'd gone through. So why was Trip so together, and he, Malcolm, felt like he was coming apart?
Malcolm twisted his face in frustration. Forget all that. He had more immediate needs. Standing clumsily, he turned towards the lavs, which were all the way at the other end of the ward.
He heard a loud whistling sound from outside, somewhere overhead. He barely had time to look at the ceiling before the blast hit.
All Malcolm could manage to think was, "Unbelievable."
x-x
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