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Chapter 5
Trip woke up early the next morning, stirred to awareness by the dull ache in his back. It was nothing new; the cot wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it was not intended to be used over a longer period of time, and he had been sleeping on it for a little over three weeks now. The last few days, he had woken up every morning feeling as if someone had tied a knot in his spine at some point during the night.
Still not quite awake, he massaged the place between his shoulderblades where the pain was located. His head was aching as well, and Trip sleepily recalled that it had taken him a long time to fall asleep the evening before. Then he remembered the reason why, and sighed. Maybe he should simply stay in bed today, and pretend that yesterday had never happened. The idea seemed more appealing the longer he thought about it, and he closed his eyes again, intending to catch a few more minutes of rest.
A twinge between his shoulders brought him back. Trip sighed in resignation and opened his eyes, rolling over onto his back. The gray February dawn was beginning to illuminate the room, a soft, steady rapping against the window indicating that it was raining outside. Trip looked over at the bed and saw that Malcolm had turned over in the night. The pale face resting on the pillow was relaxed and peaceful, betraying none of the cold anger Trip had felt coming off the other man the night before.
Trip regarded his sleeping partner for a moment and felt a sudden, almost painful surge of affection. Malcolm could be a pain in the ass, but that didn't change anything about the fact that Trip had never loved anyone more in his life. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone or anything hurting this man, and the awareness that he had been forced to do so himself lay in his chest like a heavy weight. And he knew that he had hurt Malcolm deeply. The British man valued few things as he valued his privacy and independence, and by forcibly confining him, Trip had trampled on his feelings in a way Malcolm wouldn't easily forgive or forget. In a rational sense, Trip knew that he had done the right thing; Malcolm needed to stay in bed or he would never return to full health. However, no rational explanation in the world could change the fact that it had hurt him badly to do this.
Quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping man, Trip sat up and flexed his shoulders to work the kink out of his back. Then he got up and walked on bare feet over to the bed. Malcolm had pulled the blanket up to his chin, exposing the foot that was tethered to the bedframe. Wincing at the sight, Trip picked up the extra blanket that had fallen to the floor and spread it over Malcolm. Briefly, he considered taking off the restraint now while Malcolm was sleeping and be done with it, but as much as he would have liked to do so, he knew that this was the one thing he couldn't do, now that he had decided to use this last measure to keep Malcolm in bed. If he gave in now, Malcolm would never listen to him again and would keep pushing it until he had ruined his health for good. Sighing, Trip turned away and after a brief detour to gather up his clothes went to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later he returned showered and shaved to the main room. He had half hoped that Malcolm would still be asleep, but he wasn't, lying on his side and staring out at the raindrops that were trickling down the window. He didn't move or raise his head when the bathroom door opened, his eyes fixed on the rain outside. Trip's heart sank. It was more than obvious that none of Malcolm's anger had dissipated over night; if anything, his resentment had grown at waking up and finding that the restraint was still there.
"Mornin', Mal," he said in an as he hoped neutral tone of voice. As he had expected, there was no reaction.
Trip sighed. It would have been much easier to leave Malcolm to stew in his own juice for a while, but he knew he couldn't do so. No matter how miserable he was feeling, Malcolm would insist on taking a shower every morning, and even allow Trip to help him into the shower and onto the seat they had installed. It would be more than rubbing it in to leave him in bed unwashed and in his old pajamas.
Steeling himself for the icy rejection he was going to encounter, Trip walked over to the bed and crouched down next to it so Malcolm had no choice but to look at him.
"How 'bout we get you into the shower?"
Malcolm gave him a look of cold disdain and turned his eyes away, now staring at a point behind Trip's right shoulder. Trip struggled not to let his hurt show on his face.
Why do you have to make it so hard, Malcolm?
"Come on," he said and tried to sound as if he had never expected an answer. "Let's get you into the bathroom, and then we can take care of breakfast, what do you say?"
Malcolm, of course, said nothing, and Trip sighed again, taking the key out of his pocket and unlocking the cuff. Inwardly, he let out a breath of relief when he saw that Malcolm's skin was neither red nor irritated where the cuff had touched it; he couldn't have stood the thought of causing Malcolm discomfort on top of everything else.
A small, desperately optimistic part of his mind had hoped that Malcolm would break his silence once he was free of the restraint, but Malcolm's face remained as closed-off as it had been before. Slowly and awkwardly, he began to sit up and only acknowledged Trip's presence by pulling away when Trip tried to support him.
Trip decided that for the sake of both their sanities it might be better if he didn't insist on helping Malcolm. He stood back and watched as Malcolm shuffled over to the bathroom, ignoring the fresh pajamas Trip had laid out for him. As soon as he was inside, Malcolm closed the door behind himself with an audible click. Usually, he would leave it open a crack so that Trip could come to his aid if anything happened, but today he seemed to prefer the idea of perishing on the bathroom floor rather than asking Trip for help.
Trip sat down heavily on his cot and listened for the noises inside the bathroom, hoping that Malcolm wouldn't hurt himself and at the same time racking his brain what he should do once Malcolm came out again. Tying Malcolm back to the bed would be the ultimate insult, and Trip wasn't sure he would come out alive if he tried. At the same time he couldn't simply dispose of the restraint and act as if nothing had happened. Malcolm needed to understand that he was serious and that the silent treatment changed nothing about the fact that Trip was going to have his way this time. Not for the first time, Trip wished he could ask someone for help. He hated treating Malcolm like an irresponsible child, but saw no other way as long as Malcolm insisted on acting like one.
Maybe all he needs is another chance, he thought as he stared at the closed bathroom door. Maybe all I've gotta do is try and talk to him.
The idea seemed a lot better to him than wordlessly reapplying the restraint. If he tried to talk to him, really tried, Malcolm might come around and see reason. He might not forgive Trip for the incident with the cuff, at least not so soon, but maybe he would agree to acknowledge that there was no other way but to follow Phlox' orders.
With renewed confidence, Trip got up from the cot when Malcolm eventually reappeared from the bathroom. It seemed that the shower had passed without incident, although Malcolm's damp hair did look a little ruffled. He studiously avoided Trip's eyes as he crept back to the bed, and it hurt Trip to see how hard Malcolm was struggling not to let his exhaustion show as he crawled back under the covers.
Well, here we go.
Trip walked over to the bed and settled himself on the edge, paying the cuff that was still attached to the bedframe no attention.
"Malcolm," he said, waiting. When the other man refused to react, he tried again. "Malcolm, please look at me."
He waited again and finally, Malcolm turned his eyes to meet his. His expression was still cold, although there was a flicker of something in his eyes that Trip could not quite put his finger on.
He continued as calmly as he could. "Malcolm, look, I'm sorry that it had to come to this. I never wanted to use this thing on you, I just didn't know what to do with you anymore."
Malcolm averted his eyes again and pressed his lips together. Trip's optimism began to wane, but he refused to give up so easily.
"Malcolm, I know you're angry, and I guess I would be too in your place. But the problem isn't gonna solve itself by not talkin' to me."
There was no answer.
"Malcolm, please." Trip noticed the desperation that had crept into his voice, and hated it. "I'm not doin' this to get back at you for anythin', it's just that I've no idea what to do to keep you in bed. And you've gotta stay in bed, or you'll never get well again. You know that."
Malcolm said nothing and didn't even look at Trip, who closed his eyes for a moment. This - the silent treatment - was about the worst thing Malcolm could do to him. Trip would have preferred it if Malcolm had yelled, argued, even kicked Trip out of the room. He could have dealt with that. Being ignored, however, treated as if he didn't even have a right to be in Malcolm's presence, was getting to him worse than anything else could have done. And Malcolm knew it. Oh yes, did he ever.
Trip took a deep breath and decided to give it one last try. "Malcolm, listen, I'm not going to beg. I don't wanna put that thing back on you and I won't, if you promise me that you're gonna stay in bed and not get up on your own. Okay?"
He waited, inwardly crossing his fingers that Malcolm would relent and accept his offer of ending this with both their dignities tattered but not completely torn apart. For a second or two, it seemed as if Malcolm wanted to say something, and Trip hoped with all his heart that Malcolm had decided to give in. The Englishman was stubborn as hell and could drive you mad with his refusal to listen to reason, but he wasn't in the habit of breaking his promises.
As he waited, however, the thin face grew distant again, and Trip knew that any hope of Malcolm responding to his offer had been in vain. He closed his eyes, forcing back the tears of anger and helplessness that were threatening to rise to the surface. When he was sure that he wouldn't start crying in front of Malcolm, he opened his eyes again and silently moved to the foot of the bed. Pulling the covers aside, he picked up the cuff and fastened it around Malcolm's left ankle, then activated the locking mechanism. The tears were threatening again, and this time he knew he would not be able to hold them back.
Without looking at Malcolm, he tugged the blanket back into place and turned away. He walked quickly, determined to leave the room before Malcolm noticed just how desperate he was. As he had closed the door behind himself, the tears started in earnest, and Trip slid down the wall and began to cry.
TBC...
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