To make up for the short entry chapter, this one is a bit longer.

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Trip stood beside Malcolm's bed, staring down at his friend's far-too-still body. Trip could hear the soft beeping of the monitors, the hiss and push of the respirator as it breathed for his friend. He reached out a tentative hand, but pulled back before it touched Malcolm's arm.

Malcolm was so damned still; the only movement the steady rise and fall of his chest. A tube taped to his cheek forced open dry lips and stood in stark relief against his pale face.

With the light above them, and the rest of sickbay in shadow, it was almost as if he and Malcolm were the only people left on Enterprise. It was the first time in a while that he and Malcolm were alone together, and it figured: here they finally were, but Malcolm was totally out of it, while he himself was... Trip shook his head, warding off those thoughts.

It was his fault that their friendship was in the state that it was. After his sister had been killed, he'd pushed Malcolm away. Malcolm had only been trying to help - even then, Trip knew that was the case, but he'd pushed him away anyway. It was like he couldn't help himself. And now they were... Well, they were still friends, but it wasn't quite the same as it had been. As he wanted it to be again.

He hadn't found a way to fix it yet. And now, maybe it was too late.

When Malcolm had told Archer that he had concerns about the Relakians, the captain hadn't listened. Trip felt his mouth twitch in a frown. Well, the captain had certainly listened to Malcolm, but he hadn't heard him. It's like he didn't get it, as if being that mistrustful went against his character. All the Xindi experience still hadn't completely crushed Jon's enthusiasm and trustful nature. In a way, Trip was glad for that, but -

Thank God the Relakians were as poor marksmen as they were engineers.

Now Trip struggled to stop an entirely inappropriate smile. "Too bad they were decent bomb makers, though," he said, almost under his breath. Now he did smile. While he wasn't sure what had gotten Malcolm in the end, he certainly remembered what had caused his own demise. They'd caught him with a trip wire. It was almost ironic, or at least a bad pun, that it was his namesake that got him in the end.

Trip had woken up here in sickbay, if you could call it waking. It was more like he was on the planet one minute, and next thing he knew, he'd been here. Malcolm had been there, too, although he'd quickly been moved into surgery. Chang had been in and out, his injuries confined to minor cuts and bruises. And he'd seen Jon, who physically was suffering only muscle strain, although his face clearly showed his distress.

From Chang and Archer's rushed conversations with Phlox, Trip knew Malcolm had been found some hours later, pretty much exactly where they'd left him. Of course, that had only been possible once Chang had finally reached Enterprise and gotten some help.

And now Trip was in sickbay, unsure of exactly how much time had passed. He figured it had to have been a day, which meant this was New Year's Eve. New Year's was usually a time to take stock of the year that had just passed, and make plans for the future. It was a chance for new beginnings. But this year - this year he wasn't so sure.

Trip looked down at himself. He held his hands up and turned them over, examining them front and back. After a moment, he shook his head. Giving up, he dragged the nearest chair over to Malcolm's bedside and sat.

He had done that several times since he'd woken in sickbay - checking himself for injuries. Not a mark on him. There never was. But he remembered...

Trip closed his eyes as the blast threw him against the wall. There had been nothing after that, at least not at first, not when he'd first woken up. But now... Now that he thought about it, images came to him: of debris falling over his body as the wall collapsed; of smoke and a cloud of rubble swirling up from the floor, filling the large space in seconds; of being unable to see, the courtyard black as night despite the bright sun above. There were shouts - Archer, Chang, their voices growing increasing urgent.

It was as if Trip was somehow seeing the scene from outside himself, in a series of disjointed images: Jon covered in dust, coughing, lifting a sleeve to his mouth. Jon and Chang digging frantically. Chang trying to contact Enterprise. The look on Jon's face when he finally uncovered Trip's hand. Jon's fingers as they fumbled for a pulse.

He could see his own hand in the rubble, and Jon squatting beside it...

Trip opened his eyes to find sickbay dark around him. The ventilator tube had been removed from Malcolm's mouth, and his friend was breathing on his own.

At first, this sort of thing had freaked him out - missing time like this - but now he was resigned to it. Little chunks of time; skipping moments, minutes, hours. He might think he had fallen asleep, if he didn't know better. But he did know better.

Trip heard a soft groan and Malcolm's eyes fluttered open. A medic came by almost immediately, brushing past Trip without a glance. She raised the lights slightly and checked each of Malcolm's monitors, speaking to him all the while in soft phrases. Raising the head of his bed, she gave his arm a soft pat before she moved away.

Trip stood from his chair and stepped close to Malcolm's bedside. "Hey," Trip said, keeping his voice low. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

Malcolm blinked and looked up, his focus falling on Trip. At first he looked surprised, but after a moment, his expression softened. "Everyone all right?" he rasped in the near-whisper that was a side effect of the respirator.

Trip smiled in relief. It was so typical of Malcolm to ask after the others, rather than about himself.

"Yeah, they're all fine," Trip replied. His fingers moved towards Malcolm's arm as if of their own volition, but he pulled back at the last second.

"Good," Malcolm replied. "How did they...?"

Knowing Malcolm was probably having trouble talking - Trip could remember the feel of his own throat after having been on a respirator - he jumped in. "They managed to escape. Barely even hurt," he added with a wry smile.

Malcolm reached out with a shaky hand, the IV line snaking out from underneath the splint holding it in place. "Are you all right?"

Trip stared down at Malcolm's hand. Something must have shown on his face, because Malcolm was not normally one for the touchy-feely. "I'm not sure." Trip looked at him.

"You're not -?" Malcolm struggled to sit up, his gaze burning into Trip. "What do you mean?"

Trip reached for the bed's controls and raised the head until his friend nodded. Seeing the obvious concern in Malcolm's eyes, Trip decided to be frank. "I think I'm dead."

Malcolm frowned. "What?" he mouthed, a wrinkle creasing his forehead.

"Listen," Trip said quickly, heart pounding, already regretting what he'd said. He took a step backwards. "You only just woke up, and to be honest, you already look like you could use a nap."

Malcolm pursed his lips in response, and Trip could tell from his expression that he wasn't buying it.

Trip turned and took a few steps away. Then he turned again and stomped back to the bedside. He slumped onto the chair with a sigh. How the hell could he explain? He knew it sounded crazy, but at the same time, he knew - he simply knew that it was true. Just like he knew that he couldn't touch Malcolm without... He wasn't sure what, but something would happen. And whatever that "something" was, he wasn't quite ready for it. Not yet.

Hands clenched tightly together, he looked up at Malcolm, only to find his friend staring at him expectantly. "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward. "I died down on that planet." When Malcolm opened his mouth to interrupt, Trip ran over him. "No, I mean it." He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "There was an explosion, and I..." He ran a rough hand over his eyes, leaving them closed. "I remember hitting the wall. It didn't even hurt. Not much. Not after..." He opened his eyes and stared at Malcolm. "I died there, Malcolm."

Malcolm frowned, his expression showing his worry.

Trip gave him a weary half-smile. "You think I'm nuts, right? And believe me, I know what it sounds like, but..." How to explain the sense of absolute certainty? He knew. There was not a doubt in his mind.

"Then why are you here?" Malcolm whispered.

That caught Trip by surprise. "What?"

"Why are you here?" Malcolm repeated. "If you are..." he hesitated a moment, "...dead. Then why are you here?"

Trip sat back in his chair and shut his eyes for a moment. Why was he here? If he were going to "be" anywhere, he'd have thought it would be Florida. Or if it was going to be Enterprise, at least engineering. So why sickbay with Malcolm? "Good question," he murmured.

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