Oh, poor Trip!

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Trip came to slowly, lying still while the world seemed to shift and swirl around him. After a moment, he realized he was staring up at the ceiling of the shuttle. Turning his head, he took in the man at the controls of the tiny ship, and the viewscreen just beyond him.

They'd left Enterprise. How long ago, and how far they'd gone, he had no idea, but the only thing before them was empty space. He stared at Malcolm's back.

"Commander," Malcolm said without emotion.

"You shot me," Trip said, unable to keep the surprise and tension from his voice.

"I did have it set on stun," Malcolm said, eyes still on the controls before him.

"Still," Trip said. He went to rise, and realized his hands had been bound behind him. Wiggling until he was next to the nearest bench, he squirmed up to a seat on the floor, his back against the bench. By that time, he was out of breath and sweating; Malcolm, or whoever that was, had him trussed up but good. "Who the hell are you?"

"You know who I am."

"I know who you're *not*," Trip shot back. "Where's Malcolm? What did you do with him?"

Malcolm huffed a soft laugh. "He's here."

Trip felt a chill run through him. It was one thing to suspect such a thing; another to have it confirmed. "What do you mean?" he asked. Feeling like he was stuck inside some bad horror movie or something, he asked tentatively, "Can I speak to him?"

At that, Malcolm said back over his shoulder, "That's not possible."

"Why not?"

Still working the ship's controls, Malcolm said, "It's not possible to separate."

Trip felt his stomach clench, ice water running through his veins. "What do you mean, not possible to separate?" At Malcolm's answering shrug, Trip's anger rose, heating his cheeks. "You mean…" He shook his head in frustration, pulling against the wrist restraints. "I know you're not him, but you're telling me he's trapped in there or something?"

"Trapped?" Malcolm seemed to think that through. He finally said, "It's difficult to explain."

If what this being had said was true, if Malcolm was actually still in there, it might be possible to reach him. "Malcolm," Trip said, "If you're in there, want you to know I'm here. If there's any way you can…"

"This is all very touching, Commander," Malcolm cut him off. "But we're nearly there."

"There? There, where?" Trip asked. His eyes roved the back of the shuttle, seeking out something that might help him cut through his restraints.

Malcolm didn't answer, but Trip could see a planet coming up alongside. He heard the comm. come to life, and Malcolm responded in a low voice. It was only once he heard the answering acknowledgement that Trip realized where they were headed: it was the planet they'd visited, the one where Malcolm had had his seizure.

This made no sense.

"Let me talk to Malcolm."

"As I said, that is not possible."

"He's in there, right?" Trip asked. "So he can hear me."

There was a pause, as if the alien was truly considering his question. "Yes, and no," Malcolm finally said, still not bothering to turn away from the ship's controls. "There is no 'he'. Not as such."

Trip leaned back against the bench. "So when you're done with him, then what?"

"Oh, no." Malcolm laughed. "You don't understand. I'm here until the end of my – Malcolm's – natural life."

Trip refused to believe that. "If you were to leave…?" he asked, drawing the question out. Even if this being wouldn't leave Malcolm, maybe there was some way that he, or Phlox –

"I would not. I cannot."

"But if you did?" Trip said. "If you were to leave, would Malcolm be…?"

Malcolm finally turned to face Trip. He shook his head. "No. You don't understand. Separation is impossible. He and I, we've..." Malcolm flexed his fingers, stretching them as if enjoying the sensation. "The person you knew is gone. We are one, now." Malcolm hesitated, and almost looked sympathetic. "Perhaps, if it helps you, you should think of your friend as having died."

Trip stared at Malcolm numbly, watching as Malcolm coolly turned back to the controls.

Trip's eyes roved the back of the shuttle again, until they finally landed on his toolkit. It lay open where he'd left it, half-hidden behind the door of the console, mere inches away from where he was sitting. Maybe if he could keep Malcolm occupied, he could get himself over there and back.

Trip decided a change of tack was in order. "Why are you going back there?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Malcolm as he slid himself the few inches he needed. "Is that where you're from?" Trip slid in front of the box, grasping the knife with hands still bound behind his back. "The seizure and all that, that was you, wasn't it?" He slid back into position, then began manoeuvring the knife so that the blade touched the strap of the restraint. He tried to get it to cut the strap holding his hands, but without leverage, it was useless. Knowing there was nothing else for it, he steeled himself, then pressed against the bench behind him, trapping the knife between his back and the restraint. He started moving the blade again, its top point nicking his arm as he sliced.

"I was not able to merge with the people on this planet," Malcolm said. "Humans, however; you are different, but still, it wasn't easy. But this one – his fear," Malcolm turned to face Trip again, his expression clearly amused. "Did you know he's afraid of water?" he asked, stressing the last word in amazement.

Trip froze his movements, the knife held still against the restraint.

Malcolm continued. "The ceremony, his fear, that made it far easier. With time, I was able to merge. Now, with this body, I will return to the planet." He smiled, an edge to his voice as he said, "I have some unfinished business there."

"What sort of business?" Trip asked.

There was a signal from the comm., and Malcolm held up a warning hand as he turned back to the controls. Trip again sawed at the restraints as the shuttle banked in, breaking atmosphere, obviously headed for a landing.

As Malcolm spoke into the comm., Trip went on. "What do you want with us?"

Malcolm held up his hand again, still speaking into the comm.

When Trip got no answer, he bit out, "Why do you need Malcolm? Why do you need me?"

Malcolm slapped off the comm. and turned, eyes flashing angrily. "Malcolm," he said, accent sharp, "I need for his body, his skills. You," he said, pointing an irate finger, "You, I don't need at all. You were uninvited."

Trip responded, anger to anger. "You don't need Malcolm. You could take me. I'm an engine –"

Trip cut himself off when Malcolm reached to the weapon in his holster, flipping the switch off of "stun". Tone biting, Malcolm spat, "I suggest you shut up."

Trip froze there a moment, pinned by Malcolm's cold gaze. Then he nodded sharply.

As Malcolm turned back to the controls, the surface of the planet began to come into view. Trip gave one final, sharp pull to the knife, finally breaking the straps binding his hands. Still holding the weapon, he flexed his fingers, his wrists, trying to bring the circulation back. He shifted his legs, getting ready.

His friend was trapped in there with that… that thing. He stared at Malcolm's back. Or not quite. Not really. The alien had said that Malcolm was gone, that he should think of Malcolm has having died. Ah, hell. He didn't know what to believe. All he knew was that he had to do something.

But what? Malcolm was way better than him at hand-to-hand combat. Worse, he had no idea of the capabilities of the alien thing inside him. The only factor that Trip had in his favour was the element of surprise.

"You are number 438 in line for landing," said an automated voice on the comm. "Please put your ship on autopilot in preparation…"

Malcolm switched the shuttle to automatic.

Trip pushed himself up and burst across the cabin, knife in hand. He went directly for Malcolm's throat, hoping he could choke him out, render him unconscious. Before he could wrap his arm around Malcolm's neck, Malcolm grabbed his arm and pulled, trying for the knife. Trip jerked back. The blade flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

Malcolm was at him in a flash, body moving in ways that Trip had never seen, never observed Malcolm training, wasn't even sure a human body could do. Blows landed on his ribs. Another to his face, coming faster than Malcolm could possibly move. Kicks to his hip, his back, and he twisted and fell face-up. Malcolm landed straddled on top of him. Dazed, Trip felt, rather than saw, Malcolm reaching for the gun. Trip grabbed for it. The gun came away, ending up in Trip's hand.

Trip pushed the weapon forcefully up into Malcolm's stomach.

Malcolm looked down at him, eyes cold. "It's not set on stun."

"I know," Trip said flatly.

Malcolm cocked an eyebrow. "You wouldn't. He's your friend."

"My friend is dead," Trip said, suddenly believing every word. Malcolm was gone. He could see it in this thing's eyes. Malcolm was gone. Trip's finger twitched on the trigger.

Malcolm blinked, frowned. "Trip," he said.

Trip gasped. There was something… The eyes. Malcolm's eyes. For a second there, he thought he saw –

Malcolm wrenched the weapon from Trip's hand, turned it around and shot him.

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