x-x
Malcolm stood outside the brig and turned on the recorders. He'd made sure his most trusted security people would be watching the monitors, and he'd also posted one person just outside the room.
He knew he shouldn't be the one questioning Trip. There was too much history there, they were too close, but at the same time he had to. It had to be him. There was no way, if there was something wrong with Trip, he wouldn't know.
A brief, sad smile flickered across his features. The things that made him the worst possible person to question Trip also made him the best.
As he entered the small room, Trip looked up from his seat on one of the benches. He gave an icy smile.
Malcolm avoided his eyes, instead taking the opportunity to evaluate the situation. He'd asked Phlox to examine Trip, and it looked like the doctor had done, because Trip's cheek was covered in a small bandage, the cut on his lip recently sutured. He'd also asked for Phlox to run some tests and check for anything odd, anything that could explain why Trip was acting so unlike himself. Those results were still pending.
Trip was sitting on the right-hand bench, although he was free to move about. His earlier uniform had been taken from him, and he was now dressed in theatre whites - Phlox's standard solution for anyone whose clothing needed to be removed.
Malcolm remained just inside the door, standing at parade rest. He finally let his eyes meet those of the prisoner. "What happened back there, Commander?" he asked, careful to keep his tone even and his expression impartial.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," Trip replied. "Hoshi and I were just..." He sighed and looked away for a moment, then back to Malcolm. "I didn't mean for you to find out about us in that way." His expression was one of sorrow and contrition, but there was something about his eyes... Malcolm wasn't quite sure what. There was something...wrong there, but he couldn't put his finger on what was bothering him.
"Had Hoshi and you been...together in the past?"
"While you and I were dating?" Trip asked, leaning forward on the bench. "Ah, no, Malcolm. I'd never have... Please don't think..."
Malcolm broke his stance and let himself sit on the bench beside Trip, their knees nearly brushing in the small space. "Then why?" he asked, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. "You said you needed more space, but I didn't expect - He cut himself off when he saw a flash of amusement cross Trip's features. Although the man quickly schooled them, once again appearing remorseful, Malcolm tensed. This was not the Trip he knew. Goosebumps rising, he decided to play to his vague suspicions and risk a question. "Who are you?"
At that, Trip burst out laughing. "I figured you'd be the one to realise, but God, took you long enough."
Malcolm felt the shock like a blow to the gut, and it took him a moment to recover.
Trip spoke into the silence. "What was it that gave me away? Was it the fact that I'd attacked Hoshi, or broke up with you, or just the look in my eye?" He slid over slightly, closing the space between them, and Malcolm couldn't help but recoil.
God, precisely how long had this been going on? He'd had been so busy, and Trip had been working, and...
"Where is Trip?" he finally bit out, heart racing.
Trip slouched insolently against the wall. "He's in here, more or less." The man smiled. "For now, at least."
Malcolm felt a chill come over him. "Let him go," he said, his voice low and nasty.
"Nah," Trip replied. He leaned forward suddenly, grinning when he saw Malcolm flinch. "I'm quite enjoying this, being corporeal. It's been a while, and it took a long time for me to find a way." He ran a hand along his own chest, then down his leg. "It was certainly worth it."
"Who are you?" Malcolm repeated, surprised that his voice didn't betray his feelings.
Trip cocked his head. "I have all of Trip's memories, you know. What he knew, I know. What he felt, I feel. And what he felt about you was -
Malcolm didn't have time to react before Trip was on him, pinning him to the bench, face mere inches from his own. Malcolm felt the other man grind into him, hips moving. Hot breath hit his cheek as Trip whispered, "God, Malcolm," into his ear, passion apparent in his tone, in the hardness Malcolm felt against his leg.
Malcolm tried to shout. Trip trapped him with a kiss. A tongue worked its way between his lips as Trip's thigh forced itself between his legs.
Malcolm felt his own body respond despite his desperate wish that it not. Melting into the kiss, he touched his tongue to Trip's just as security opened the door and pulled the other man away.
x-x
Malcolm scrubbed his face with his flannel, turning his head so the water from the shower could wash away both the soap and the misery of his day. This was his second time washing, and he still felt dirty.
He was disgusted with himself. The way he'd reacted when Trip had... He sighed and half-heartedly tossed the cloth onto its hook.
Not Trip. That hadn't been Trip at all, and he had to remember that.
After that scene in the brig with "the being", Captain Archer had got in touch with his contacts on Bechovia. As it has been the last planet Trip had been prior to his change in behaviour, it was a logical place to start. But Archer's contacts seemed never to have heard such a story.
Malcolm heard his comm. go and he stepped from the shower, the water turning off automatically as he left. Wrapping himself in a towel, he walked a dripping path to the unit near his door. "Reed here," he said, shivering as the cool air hit his damp skin.
"Lieutenant?" came Hoshi's voice across the channel. "Someone from Bechovia is asking to speak with you. Says it's private," she added, dropping her voice.
Malcolm frowned and, quickly towelling his hair, ran hasty fingers through it. "Send it through to my computer." Wrapping the towel around his waist, he grabbed for the shirt he'd thrown on the bed and was half into it when his computer came to life, revealing a dark-skinned Bechovian male.
"Lieutenant Reed?" the man asked. The translation device gave his voice a strange, although not unpleasant, lilt. "Did I catch you at a bad time?" he asked, opening his eyes wide in what Malcolm assumed was an expression of either apology or surprise.
"No," Malcolm replied, finally into his shirt. "How can I help you?" He sat in the chair in front of the computer.
"I am Carevial Darlolian. I met Commander Tucker while he was here on Bechrovia." Carevial's face twisted, the two horns on his forehead just touching. Malcolm wasn't certain, but he thought the man was frowning. "I was sorry to hear of the events that occurred since his visit with us," Carevial said, his voice solemn.
"Thank you," Malcolm said, not at all sure of where this was going.
Perhaps sensing his confusion, Carevial explained. "I felt you needed to know something." He lifted both hands, fingers curled in, palms together. "It may amount to nothing, but...the man your captain spoke with lied."
At this, Malcolm leaned forward in his chair.
Carevial waved his hands in front of him, as if dismissing what he'd just said. "Well, not so much lied. We have stories here of beings which can do this. But these are stories to frighten children, not real." The man made that almost-frown again. "Still..."
"Yes?"
"When I heard of what happened to your friend, I felt I should call. I felt you should know."
With the way Carevial emphasised the word "friend", Malcolm realised that the man probably knew about his and Trip's relationship.
"Why not contact the captain?"
Carevial interrupted. "No, no. That would not be appropriate. A situation such as this is best discussed with family."
"Family." That word struck Malcolm hard, and he found that he needed a moment to recover. "Is there a way to get it to leave?" he finally asked, his voice pitched barely above a whisper.
"I know only stories, rumours..."
"Please," Malcolm said, surprising himself with the pleading in his voice.
x-x
Malcolm stood awkwardly in front of Captain Archer, having practically run to the man's quarters after his conversation with Carevial. He'd barely stopped to put on trousers. He'd completely forgotten socks or shoes. Now he felt a complete and total git standing there half-dressed, hair on end, and obviously wholly out-of-sorts.
With the captain staring at him, expression a clear mix of concern and confusion, Malcolm opened his mouth to explain what he'd learnt. He was interrupted by the comm.
"Security to the shuttlebay," a voice announced over the ship-wide system, just as the captain's personal comm. went.
"Captain? Is Lieutenant Reed there?" Hoshi asked, seeming a bit breathless.
Archer stepped to the unit and triggered it. "Yes, Hoshi. What's going on?"
Malcolm heard Hoshi take a breath before she replied. "Trip's escaped. We think he's headed for a shuttle."
Archer looked at him in alarm. Poised to respond to Hoshi, he nodded toward the door and mouthed, "Go."
As Malcolm sprinted from the room, he heard Archer say, "Keep weapons on stun -
x-x
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