AN: I realized as I read this, there are spoilers for several episodes, but I can't remember precisely which season they occurred in, so I apologize if I spoil any for anyone. Reader beware. Thanks for the kind reviews. Knowing people are reading makes the writing go faster.

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Phlox rose from his stool with a heavy sigh. He'd been sitting, nearly motionless, for the last thirty minutes. He had not left Ensign Carey's side from the moment he realized the seriousness of her condition until he pronounced her death. Even now, he was finding it difficult to leave her side. He had sent a tech to wrap Archer's ribs, and to give Reed a potent painkiller until he could put the injured shoulder back in joint. The tech had reported back that Tucker and T'Pol were also waiting; Phlox had sent word to the bridge shortly after starting the surgery that Ensign Carey's condition was critical, and they had come to sickbay as soon as they could leave the bridge. Now Phlox had to deliver the bad news. He was tempted to wait, find some other task that needed doing, but he would have to face them eventually. He was exhausted, but he still had patients to care for and the news wasn't going to get better with time.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Archer sat up on the biobed as the doctor entered. T'Pol had returned to the bridge, but Trip was sitting next to him. Archer knew immediately that the news was bad. He'd never seen the doctor look so... distraught. Not when Trip had been so badly injured he would have died without the creation of a clone that had supplied needed neural tissue, not when they had found 'Travis' dead, not ever. No matter how bad the situation, how sad the case, never before had he seen this particular expression on the physician's face.

"Doctor?" Trip spoke first, and Archer could hear in his tone that the engineer also knew the news was bad.

"I'm sorry. Ensign Carey has died. I repaired the injury, but the damage had been done. The trauma was too great." The doctor took a deep breath before delivering the next piece of information. "I didn't catch the injury in time. If I had, she might have survived."

There was silence as the captain and Trip tried to absorb the doctor's pronouncement. They had known Carey's condition was critical, but they had become accustomed to the doctor pulling injured crewmen back from death's door on a regular basis. The temptation to reassure the doctor was nearly overwhelming, but one glance at Phlox's face told them their words would be futile. The doctor was not the sort who took responsibility for things that were not his fault. Sometimes he hadn't known how to treat an injury, or there was no treatment available, and he had grieved for his patients, but never before had he claimed that his negligence had led to a death.

"I'm sure you did the best you could," Archer finally said, feeling he had to say something.

"Yes, I did. Once I diagnosed the problem. But that was an hour after your return. Nearly four hours after she was injured. If I had her in surgery first..." Phlox shook his head, then turned away to gather up supplies he was going to need.

The conversation had woken Reed. The armory officer was listening, the look of grogginess disappearing, replaced by a look of consternation. "Doctor, are you saying-"

"Mr. Reed. I'm sorry you've had to wait. I can fix your shoulder now." The doctor moved to his side.

"Wait. I need to ask you a few questions first-" Reed began, but Archer intervened. "Malcolm, let the doctor take care of your shoulder first. Other matters can wait." The captain was firm. He knew what Reed wanted to discuss, and now was not the time. The doctor was obviously devastated and in no condition for questioning, and Reed was not in any condition to conduct an official interview.

But, eventually, the questions would come.

Reed nodded, acknowledging the captain's instructions, and allowed the doctor to treat him. But when Phlox stepped closer to administer the medicine that would make the procedure nearly painless, he couldn't miss the accusation in the armory officer's eyes.

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"Captain, I need to speak with you."

Archer looked up from his breakfast. He met the concerned gaze of his armory officer. He gestured for Reed to take a seat, noting the sling that held Reed's left arm still.

"I think I can guess what this is about," Archer began quietly. "I'd like to wait until after the memorial service before pursuing... other issues."

"Yes, sir," Reed said, obviously uncomfortable with that option. "But, in the meantime, ... he's practicing medicine. And, with respectful sir, he doesn't seem to be in a proper mental state to do so."

"Do you have any specific examples, any evidence his patients are at risk? Or is this just a hypothetical concern? An understandable one," Archer hastened to add when Reed's face darkened, not wanting Reed to think he wasn't being taken seriously.

"No, nothing specific, sir... it's just…" Malcolm trailed off, unable to put his concerns into words. Normally, when he came to Archer with a request, he had very clear concerns, and presented them logically. Archer was a little surprised that Malcolm would have brought up the issue without having his arguments precisely laid out.

"The service is this afternoon, Malcolm. Let it rest until then. Tomorrow, you can start a full investigation."

"Sir, what if someone becomes ill in the interim? He'd--

"What if someone was hurt, Malcolm? It's not like we have anyone else available to treat the crew. Regardless of the outcome, Phlox will remain our doctor as long as we're weeks away from Earth.

Reed fell silent. Archer waited for him to respond, knowing it was the armory officer's nature to pursue the matter vigorously. But this was going to be nasty. No matter how the investigation turned out the process would be ugly, and, once started, irreversible. Archer had the sinking realization that the atmosphere of easy collegiality that he had worked so hard to nurture on his ship was about to change. To the captain's surprise, Reed just gave a curt nod.

"May I be dismissed, sir?"

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant. And Malcolm? I take your concerns seriously. The memorial service is this afternoon. Just leave this one more day."

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Archer closed the comm line to Earth. It had taken Hoshi most of the morning to establish the link, and even then it had been full of static. Still, he had been able to pass his grim message to Admiral Forest. The admiral would contact Ensign Carey's family, and transmit the message Archer had prepared for them. He would also notify all the relevant Starfleet authorities, so that Carey's family would receive all the support and help they might need in dealing with her death. In the meantime, the admiral had conceded, despite the fact that the doctor was profoundly upset, there was no choice but to keep Phlox at his duties. The Enterprise was alone.

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"Doctor."

Phlox looked up at the summons. Reed was standing in sickbay's door, not quite having crossed the threshold, clearly reluctant to enter.

"Ahh, Lieutenant. Come in," Phlox smiled at Reed, but his smile was sad. "What can I do for you?"

Reed didn't return the smile. "Doctor, I'm here on official business. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Phlox nodded. "I thought that might be the case. Go ahead, Lieutenant. Ask your questions."

Reed looked uncomfortable. "Is there a place we could perhaps sit? This might take some time."

"Of course. There is a table with stools in my lab. Would that be acceptable?"

"Certainly," Reed replied. He was clearly tense, and a small part of Phlox was glad. He thought he knew what was coming, and Reed should be uncomfortable. A small part of Phlox was angry with the lieutenant, and at the investigation Reed was conducting. After all, he had had to make split second decisions, without time to fully gather all the information needed. He had feared Archer had a collapsed lung, or worse was developing a tension pneumothorax, a life-threatening emergency, and he had thought Reed might be bleeding internally. Although to be honest, there had been no indication that it was the case—it had been Phlox suspicion, based on his knowledge of Reed's personality. And he had based his decisions on that knowledge, rather than Ensign Carey's complaint of pain. For just an instant, Phlox wanted to blame the lieutenant. If he could have trusted Reed's word that the lieutenant was not further injured, he would have evaluated Ensign Carey first. Then Phlox shook his head, dismissing the thought. He couldn't blame Reed for being who he was, nor could he place the responsibility for his decisions at the lieutenant's feet.

In awkward silence the two men took seats on the stools. Reed placed a small recording device on the table. He cleared his throat before he began to speak, without looking at Phlox. "This is an interview with Dr. Phlox, regarding the death of Ensign Jaylene Carey. The date is…" Phlox listened as Reed spoke in a monotone, recording the particulars of the interview, listing the date, location, and who was present. When he had completed the mundane routine, he finally shot a glance toward Phlox.

"Doctor, please state the cause of Ensign Carey's death."

"Ensign Carey died of the complications of an aortic rupture that was a result of blunt trauma in a shuttlepod accident."

"Please explain what that means doctor." Reed listened as Phlox described, in layman's terms what an aortic rupture was, how it was frequently immediately fatal, but how in a few cases the rupture was not complete—the outermost lining of the aorta remaining intact, creating a short period of time in which the patient could be saved. The doctor explained the signs, the surgical treatment, and the complications Ensign Carey has suffered. Finally, when Reed had pulled from the doctor every detail of Phlox actions and decision making process, he paused. He leaned forward, meeting the doctor's gaze directly for the first time since the interview had begun. In a low tone, practically spitting out the words, he asked, "Doctor, was Ensign Carey's death preventable?"

Meeting the gaze head on, steeling him self again the coldness in the lieutenant's eyes, Phlox gave the most honest answer he could.

"I don't know."

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Archer read the dispatch for the third time, and then slammed the padd down on the desk so hard that Porthos, dozing in the corner, jumped. Archer stabbed the intercom button.

"Archer to Lieutenant Reed."

"Yes, sir?"

"Lieutenant, I want to see you in my ready room. Now."

In the two minutes it took Reed to arrive, Archer took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, reminding himself that his armory officer was not normally prone to acts of incredible stupidity. When this didn't work, he rose and began pacing. There had to be some reason for Reed's actions, however insane they might seem. When the door chimed, Archer hit the button to open it without breaking stride.

Reed entered the ready room, and stood at attention in front of Archer's desk, eyes straight ahead, ignoring the captain's constant movement. "Lieutenant Reed reporting as ordered, sir." Clearly Reed knew that Archer had not called him here for a casual conversation; something serious was going on. Archer immediately validated that belief.

"Why, Malcolm?"

"Sir?"

"Why? Why did you send Admiral Forest a report on Phlox without clearing it with me first?"

"Sir..." Reed suddenly looked distressed. "I did clear it with you. It was in the weekly security report, which you sign off on each week prior to its being transmitted."

Did Reed sound, just slightly, accusing? Archer stopped pacing and spun around to stare at the lieutenant, but Reed was looking straight ahead, his face blank, with no suggestion of arrogance or accusation. Nonetheless, Reed had backed him into a corner. He could hardly admit that he had gotten so tired of the armory officer's constant harping on the ship's security failings that he barely skimmed the security reports. Occasionally he would look to see how Reed had interpreted some event or other during the week--he had especially enjoyed the armory officer's description of a brawl between two drunk crewman returning from shore leave that had resulted in both spending a night in the brig, as a "resolved confrontation"-- but he had to admit that at this point he read the reports more for entertainment value than information, not mentally thinking of approving or disproving them. And, in all honesty, he had forgotten the reports were transmitted to Starfleet. Until today.

"Lieutenant, I just received a message from Admiral Forest wanting to know how I planned to administer juris prudence out here, how I was going to provide Phlox with counsel, as required under our treaty with Denobula, and what I planned to do for a doctor during the trial and after, if Phlox was convicted. Imagine my surprise at learning I'd charged Phlox with manslaughter."

Reed shifted uncomfortably. "I never said you charged him with manslaughter, sir. I merely recommended that be the charge, based on my investigation."

"Malcolm, since when do you know enough about medicine to conduct such an investigation?"

Reed stiffened, drawing himself up a little taller. "Sir, I have consulted several experts on Earth, via subspace, and I've done research on the ship's medical database. All my sources seem to agree that Phlox should have suspected that Ensign Carey was seriously injured, and he should have seen to her injuries immediately. If he had, she might not have died. As a physician, he fell short of what was expected of him. His negligence caused her death."

For a moment Archer didn't speak, just studied the armory officer standing at attention. Reed believed what he was saying. He might not be right, but he whole-heartedly believed it. Archer knew he needed to step carefully here. It wouldn't do to be second guessing his officers. And Malcolm might be right. Archer had had every intention of seeing that a complete investigation was conducted into the matter-- he just hadn't wanted to rush it. He had even considered waiting until they had completed this mission, and returned to Earth, although that wouldn't be for months. But Malcolm had forced his hand. And technically he had gone through the proper channels. Archer couldn't even reprimand him.

But there was more to it than just an investigation, Archer thought. Malcolm was taking this whole situation much too personally. Archer knew Malcolm had grown close to Ensign Carey, as he had with all the armory crew. But it was more than that. The armory officer clearly believed Phlox had committed a crime, and Archer wanted to know why.

"Lieutenant, I'd like to see the results of your full investigation, before I decide how I'm going to precede."

"Sir. As the senior officer, you will be the presiding judge in any proceedings. It wouldn't be proper, or fair to Dr. Phlox, for you to be prejudiced by having seen the investigation before it is determined if the evidence is even admissible."

Damn. Malcolm was right. The captain sighed. He would have to appoint someone to represent Phlox, and fast, and to hold a hearing- Malcolm wasn't going to let this go. Besides, Archer knew Malcolm was technically correct. But he still wished he knew why his armory officer was taking this so personally. Surely Malcolm didn't want to see anything bad happen to the doctor. He couldn't possibly actually blame Phlox for the Ensign's death. Archer, too had been on the shuttlepod, had accompanied Carey back, had been with her in the last moments of her life. And while he deeply wished things had turned out differently, wished the doctor had made the diagnosis more quickly, he knew hindsight was twenty-twenty, and that being an officer on a starship was an inherently dangerous profession. Ensign Carey's death had been tragic, but he didn't blame Phlox. Why did Malcolm?

(TBC)