"Lieutenant?" a familiar voice pierced Reed's consciousness.

After talking to Phlox, Reed had finished out his shift, narrowly managed to duck Archer on the pretext of needing to get those phase cannons up and running properly again, and then retired immediately to his quarters without stopping for dinner. He'd spent the night lying in his bunk with a throbbing headache, staring at the bulkheads, fully unable to sleep.

He was scared. And he was angry. And, the more he thought about it, the less he understood why. What the hell did he think he was doing? Telling the Captain what was or was not a priority? Going behind Archer's back to Phlox? If questioning his captain so freely and openly, and then concluding that there was something wrong not only with the Captain, but the entire crew wasn't a case of both monstrous ego and crippling paranoia, then Reed didn't know what was.

Everyone had looked at him like he was barmy, and so he probably was. It was quite mad to view it the other way 'round. What were the odds that everyone else had got it wrong and he alone, out of the entire intelligent and well-trained Bridge crew, was right? And not just the Bridge crew, either. A few light questions around the Armory showed that his own men would deem a spice shortage essential to resolve, even to abandoning the planet they'd been in the process of exploring.

Reed was allergic to the spice. That gave him a bias against having it on board. A few awkward conversations with the Captain, with responses he didn't understand and… what? He concluded his captain had gone off the deep end? Along with the rest of the crew? It wasn't like he understood or could predict Captain Jonathan Archer under most circumstances, so what made this different?

What was the matter with him anyway?

By morning, Reed had pretty much concluded that he should let this go, and get on board with his captain's wishes. He didn't have to understand his captain to respect the man, or to obey him. And it was ridiculous to blame the spice for the fact that his own body was allergic to it. Even more ridiculous to want to deprive everyone else of something they loved just because he personally despised it.

These thoughts in mind, he'd gone to the Mess and retrieved a cup of coffee, and then must have fallen asleep right there, because now someone was touching his arm and shaking it gently, "Sir?"

"What?" Reed jumped, startled into full wakefulness. He sat up suddenly and his eyes managed to focus on Travis standing next to him before he became distracted by the severe pain in his head that had been sharply increased by his sudden movement, "Oh..." he put a hand to the side of his head, and then ran it down his face, "What time is it?"

Travis didn't answer that question. Reed noticed that Travis didn't have a tray with him. Which meant he'd come not to eat, but specifically to speak with Reed about something.

"What is it, Ensign?" Reed asked, subconsciously noticing that nobody else in the Mess seemed to be particularly agitated, meaning it must not be an emergency situation, unless that emergency was of a somewhat personal nature; though frankly he couldn't see why Travis would bring anything personal to his attention, knowing how useless Reed was about such matters.

"Sir… I…" Travis shifted uncomfortably, casting darting glances around the room before suddenly launching himself into the seat across the table from Reed and plunging on, "Sir, what are we doing?"

"You'll have to be a little more specific," Reed answered in a mild tone.

Travis looked deeply unnerved and didn't immediately go on, so Reed took a sip of his coffee. The coffee had gone stone cold, but still tasted good for reasons he couldn't place. Evidently he'd nodded off for more than a couple of minutes. Reed frowned into the cup.

"This planet we're heading for," Travis said, eyes wide, "I'm as excited to see it as any other planet. But it seems like some of us aren't interested in going there to explore. They just want the spice."

"And what's wrong with that?" Reed asked.

"Well... nothing I suppose," Travis answered, floundering a bit, "Only..."

"Only you think we're out here to explore, not become spice harvesters," Reed concluded when Travis trailed off, too nervous to continue.

"Exactly," Travis said, "We haven't got enough spice to go around, and I've got friends saying it's not fair that only the command crew is getting any. And they're right. It doesn't make sense. We don't need the spice. It doesn't improve our ability to do our jobs or anything like that. It doesn't make sense to have it only be available to command personnel other than as a show of favoritism, which isn't normally Captain Archer's style. And that got me to thinking… why are we in such a hurry to get there? We didn't finish our study of those hydrothermal pools. Rissa hadn't even finished collecting her samples. But when I talked to her about it, it was like she couldn't care less. And she doesn't even like the spice. She specially requests Chef to leave it off. But all she said was that people really like the spice, and running out of it would hurt morale or something. That's weird… isn't it?"

Reed certainly would have thought so yesterday, but it seemed to him now that Ensign Souci had a point. Reed wasn't very good at the whole 'keeping up morale' thing, but he did know it was important to running a ship. And Phlox had said something about the spice being a mood elevator or something like that… it didn't seem terribly important anymore.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing his headache would subside.

"Also..." Travis hesitated, "Well… I don't want to overstep here… but the way Captain Archer talked to you yesterday… I don't get it. What did you do? Spit in his soup?"

"Damned if I know," Reed answered before he could think better of it, "He didn't tell me."

"Whenever I've gotten in trouble, he was always pretty clear on what I'd done," Travis said, "That's one of the things that makes him such a good captain. You always know what you've done to get on his bad side, and he gives you a chance to fix it. And you're saying he hasn't done that?"

"Now that you mention it..." Reed admitted, "No."

"So that's just more unusual behavior. Sir, I'm beginning to think something is really affecting the crew. Like a disease or… or, I don't know... something."

"Well it certainly isn't the spice," Reed said, more emphatically than he meant to, "Phlox tested the sample the Vixlettes brought with them, and did scans on the rest of the supply the moment it was brought on board. He assures me it's completely harmless."

"But if it's not the spice… why is everyone so obsessed with it?"

"I have no idea. Medicine isn't my specialty."

"So what do we do? Where do we start trying to figure it out?" Travis wanted to know.

It was only natural. The young ensign was looking to the experienced lieutenant for answers. That was as it should be. The problem was… Reed didn't have any answers, and he was no longer interested in looking for them. In fact, all he really wanted right now was to go lie down.

The pounding in his head was getting steadily worse, and his stomach was so knotted from his own tension that he couldn't tell if it was getting upset or not. Probably he was going to be violently ill a few times before he was able to report to the Bridge for his shift.

"We do our jobs," Reed said.

He started to get up from the table, but the room tilted, and then started to spin.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, and promptly fell over backward.

Explosions of light popped into his vision, and then faded. People had noticed his fall, of course, and were gathering around, asking if he was alright. Some were saying to call Sick Bay, others were offering to help him up, presuming he'd perhaps only tripped or something.

And then the light faded, and the sound. Reed blacked out.

The world came spinning back into existence. More on reflex than because he'd planned it, Reed rolled onto his side and was ill. Fortunately for him, he was in Sick Bay, and Phlox had anticipated it, even to guessing which direction Reed was likely to roll.

"Welcome back, Lieutenant," Phlox said, "You're recovering quite nicely."

"Am I?" Reed murmured, flopping back onto the bed and resting a hand on his stomach, which was still painfully cramped, "What… happened?"

"You experienced a delayed allergic reaction," Phlox replied, in the same tone a human might use to describe a pleasantly sunny afternoon, "I should have expected it, given your various medical issues, but when you cleared decon and showed little in the way of symptoms, I'm afraid I presumed you would recover without intervention. I didn't expect anaphylaxis over twelve hours after your initial exposure to allergens on that planet. Of course, I don't think that's entirely what it was."

"No?" Reed wasn't following this in the least, but the world was spinning less violently, and Phlox's voice was soothing the splitting headache, so he was inclined to encourage the doctor to continue.

"No," Phlox said, "As I'm sure you're aware, allergens can layer. You eat one food you're mildly allergic to, and then immediately follow it with another, and you can get a moderate reaction. Breathe in some pollen you're allergic to, and then touch something you're allergic to such as an animal of some kind, and you can worsen each type of reaction slightly or severely."

"The coffee," Reed realized.

"Precisely my thought," Phlox nodded, "You were already suffering a mild reaction from what you'd been exposed to on the planet surface, and there was spice in the coffee. That, combined with your body's weakened ability to defend itself brought on by your evident insomnia and poor eating habits -which we will be discussing momentarily- caused what should have been a mild allergic reaction to hit like the proverbial meteor and you lost consciousness."

Phlox paused, busying himself with some sort of activity out of Reed's view. The lights of Sick Bay seemed too bright, but when Reed closed his eyes the spinning in his head worsened, so he sort of squinted, trying to find the balance that would achieve the least physical discomfort level.

"Why were you ingesting the spice anyway? If you don't mind my asking," Phlox asked, "You know you're allergic to it, and you seemed very suspicious of it yesterday when you came to me. Besides, if you'll recall, the only medication that seems to have an effect on this particular allergy of yours is hardly safe for long term use by humans. You know better than this, Lieutenant."

"I didn't realize I was," Reed replied quietly, "I barely even noticed anything about the coffee. I guess I just wasn't paying attention."

"Which was probably caused by your not taking care of yourself. I realize you're of a mind that the human body can be conditioned to endure anything, and there's just enough truth to that to be dangerous, but what you've been doing of late is downright irresponsible."

"I didn't realize I was doing anything extreme," Reed said.

"My scans indicate you have," Phlox said, "Your erratic eating habits are problematic at the best of times, but I tend to let it pass because I'm aware there are times you are physically incapable of keeping anything down, in which case there's little enough point in eating it to begin with. But you've had to be all but starving yourself for a week or more."

"Not on purpose, I assure you," Reed said.

Phlox muttered, "I wonder..."

Reed sighed, feeling too tired and sick to try and argue. Not that he'd ever won an argument with Phlox anyway. The good doctor was actually quite effective at holding his own in a disagreement, being intelligent, articulate and stubborn. It also helped that he was virtually always correct as well.

Reed must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Phlox's bat was squeaking for its midnight snack. Reed also felt a lot better, and he didn't think that had come on suddenly.

"Doctor, did you get 'round to those tests we spoke of earlier?" Reed asked when Phlox came to check up on him.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Phlox said.

"And?"

"And nothing," Phlox said, "No sign of serious alteration of chemical balance. No sign of addiction. No sign of mental or emotional compromisation due to ingestion of any foreign substances."

Reed sighed, admitting defeat, "Thank you, Doctor."

"Just doing my job," Phlox smiled.

A few hours later, Phlox released him from Sick Bay, but not for active duty, and also gave him strict instructions to return for regular tests over the next couple of days, and to stay the hell away from spice at all costs. He was also given a prescription for regular meals, since Phlox knew Reed wouldn't dare disobey his doctor's orders, even if he was willing to ignore his own body's expressions of need.

Not that he'd been doing that on purpose lately, just with things the way they stood now…

Reed left Sick Bay for his quarters, and went immediately to bed. But he found himself staring at the ceiling in the dark, his mind running in frantic circles.

He could feel the after effects of his allergic attack, and knew it was affecting his thinking, preventing him from really sinking his teeth into any given idea. But knowing that didn't stop his brain from spinning, trying to find something coherent to latch onto. He was startled by his own earlier indifference to Travis' concerns, especially given that his own had been reawakened during his visit to Sick Bay. Allergies could cloud thinking in myriad ways, including memory, and ability to process events as they occurred. Even so, he'd never known an allergic reaction to completely reverse his view of something as seemed to have been the case earlier today.

Anyway, he was once again convinced there was something wrong with captain and crew, and that he had started to sink into whatever it was without even really noticing the change. Somehow, this had to tie back to the spice, even though Phlox said it didn't. Reed remembered that strange, almost euphoric feeling the first time he'd tried the spice, and then again when he'd sipped the coffee, even through his headache. No chocolate bar had ever done that for him. But on the other hand… was it possible that one could feel really good just prior to feeling really bad as part of an allergic reaction? That was something Reed had never experienced before… but he also hadn't gone into anaphylactic shock before either. Maybe it was just him. Maybe he was imagining things.

Certainly it was no suspicious activity for people to rave about food they loved and try to convince other people to taste it. Maybe he wanted something to be wrong with the spice, because then it would be more palatable that he couldn't have any. Ridiculous, certainly… but then, want and wishful thinking often was, wasn't it?

He was thinking in circles again. In fact, these were the same thoughts he'd been having the night before, only this time there was no resignation, or acceptance that he'd been wrong and should just accept things as they were and settle in like everyone else seemed to want… no, not quite everyone. Travis was equally concerned, if not more so.

But what made the two of them different? And what had caused Reed to start slipping into complacency? More importantly, what had yanked him back out of it?

God, his head was killing him. He pressed the heel of one hand against his forehead, which brought only slight, and temporary, relief. But it was better than none at all.

Reed's personal station chirped. He sat up, a little too fast, and had to wait for his balance to sort itself out before he got up and went to his desk, answering the comm.

"Reed here."

"Malcolm," it was Captain Archer, "I'd like to have a talk with you in my quarters. You up to it?"

"On my way, sir," Reed answered.