No, no, no. Don't worry. The whole story isn't some alternate version of "24", I just got some ideas and used them in chapters 1 & 3. The rest is my own warped imaginings!

I've been replying back to your reviews and comments, but I'm not sure that part of this site is functional at this time, so I'm not sure you've been receiving my thanks. So thanks!

x-x

Trip sank down onto one of the mats on the floor. He started rummaging through his bag, pulling out what little he'd been able to bring with him - basically a change of clothing - and putting the items into a cubby in the wall. Malcolm was at the far end of the room in what served as the kitchen area, digging through the cabinets for food. There obviously wasn't much there. Eventually, he pulled out a box of something and got busy at the stove.

After they'd returned from the drop, they'd been assigned a room in one of the outbuildings, which had been divided up into small, one room studios - Malcolm had called them "bedsits." Although good luck trying to bring a chair in to actually sit on - the two beds, stove and tiny sink was about all the room could fit. In fact, calling the two mats on the floor "beds" might actually be stretching things a bit. Small, cramped, and somewhat down-at-the-heels, the room wouldn't win any awards for luxury, but it was relatively clean.

Speaking of small favors, he and Malcolm hadn't spoken at all during the drop, and not much after. He'd been too angry about the situation, and Malcolm - well, he had no idea what Malcolm felt about all this. About time he learned.

He sat back against the wall behind him, draping an arm across one raised knee, and waited. As Malcolm finally settled across from him on the mat, placing a steaming plate of something unidentifiable between them, he asked, "Is this the sort of thing you did when you were here before?"

Malcolm, caught in the midst of scooping some of the food onto a plate, frowned. "Cooking?"

Trip almost laughed. "No," he said. He took the plate Malcolm offered, trying not to wince at the strong scent of the food. He watched as his friend ladled some of the mush onto his own plate. "The drops."

Malcolm nodded. Then, almost apologetic, added, "We'll probably have to do a few more before we get assigned the one I'm hoping for." He took a mouthful, grimacing before he swallowed. "You don't have to come along if it makes you uncomfortable."

Trip waved the issue away. He didn't approve of the whole drugs thing - "uncomfortable" wasn't even close to what he was feeling - but no way was he leaving Malcolm alone on this mission. Maybe long enough to use the bathroom, but for a drop? He took a small mouthful of the food, screwing up his face as the sharp taste hit his tongue. Talk about uncomfortable: stuff tasted like hundred year old, fermented, pickled beets. With fish. And maybe cheese. "This actually edible?"

"Should be," Malcolm said, staring down at his plate. He dropped his voice, almost too low for even Trip to hear. "Our physiologies are mostly compatible with those of the people here, and I had no problems with the food the last time." He looked up again. "Other than the occasional problem with the taste."

After a few moments spent silently eating, Trip asked, "You were here for... How long? Few months? Longer?"

Malcolm shrugged, busy with his food.

"You really never tried the Casei?"

Malcolm shook his head. "Not interested."

"What's it do?"

Malcolm was looking down at his plate, long hair hiding most of his face, but Trip could see the side of Malcolm's mouth curl upward. "Nothing good."

"Didn't that bother you?"

"When?" Malcolm asked, eyes to his plate as he trailed his utensil through the mush.

Trip held back a sigh. Either Malcolm was being deliberately obtuse, or else they were speaking entirely different languages here. "Back when you were here before."

"It did."

Trip frowned in confusion. "And it doesn't bother you now?"

At that, Malcolm looked up. "No." He stopped, seeming to think that over, and then shrugged and looked back to his plate. "I'm not the same man I was."

Trip watched Malcolm play with his meal, and decided to take a different tack. "Why does everyone keep thinking that we're together?"

Malcolm looked at him, his gaze frankly assessing. After a moment, his mouth twisted into something approximating a smile. "When I was last here, I pretended to have been an escort." At Trip's surprised look, Malcolm continued. "Most of the people working here were connected with the sex trade in their past, so it was a natural way in." He shrugged. "I suppose their reaction is to be expected. Do you mind?"

"Nah," Trip waved Malcolm off with his utensil. "No. It's fine." He took another bite of his meal. "So, what? They think I'm a client?"

Malcolm's eyes brightened in amusement. "No. More likely, they think you're my boyfriend."

"Lucky you," Trip said dryly, coupled with a sly glance. "I'm a very, very good catch." He looked down at his meal and twirled the utensil in the mush, then let it fall onto the plate. Humor gone, he asked, "What were you doing here before?"

"The drops," Malcolm answered, clearly puzzled.

"No. I mean, why were you here?"

He watched Malcolm's posture change, his back stiffening, fingers tightening on the utensil. "The Captain told you," he said, keeping his voice low.

Trip dropped his pitch to match Malcolm's. "I know you had a mission here as part of your covert ops work, but I don't know anything beyond that." He pressed a bit harder. "What was your assignment?"

Malcolm put down his plate. Stiff and formal, he replied, "You know I can't tell you."

Trip nodded. Putting down his own plate, he said, "I know. I'm just concerned. You're back here and you weren't given any time between getting out of prison and..."

"Trip -"

"I'm not even sure what they did to you in there." He reached towards the scar at Malcolm's temple.

Malcolm flinched.

Trip dropped his hand. "What happened to you isn't fair. It wasn't right, but in that situation, Starfleet and the government back home -"

"I'm not an idiot," Malcolm interrupted brusquely, eyes guarded. "I know why they left me."

Trip blinked. This wasn't going the way he'd expected. "I just want to be sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," Malcolm said, his voice without inflection.

"Bullshit," Trip said, his gentle tone belying the harsh word. He leaned toward his friend. "You're not. What did they do to you?"

Malcolm shook his head. "I don't want to discuss this."

"Malcolm -"

Malcolm leaned forward angrily. "I'm not here to help you assuage your own guilt."

Trip felt that like a slap to the face. Through his shock, he forced out, "No, Malcolm, I -"

Malcolm scrambled to stand, shouting, "Enough!" over Trip's words.

Trip held his hands up, palms out. "All right," he said quickly.

Malcolm had turned away and was out before Trip had finished speaking, the door slamming behind him.

x-x

Trip stared up at the darkness of the ceiling. The house around him had gone quiet some time ago, the only sound Malcolm's soft breathing from the mat next to his.

Malcolm had returned well after he had already gone to bed. He'd pretended to be asleep. Knowing Malcolm, he doubted he'd fooled him, but the pretence had allowed them both some needed peace.

He wasn't sure why he'd got on Malcolm like that. He knew it was a bad idea - Malcolm couldn't tell him about the past mission, and likely wouldn't tell him about the prison, but... It was like a test, a way to see how Malcolm would react, see what he could learn, if anything, about the man's state of mind. It was stupid. All he'd done was break down what little goodwill, if any, he'd gained.

Hearing rustling from beside him, then an odd moan, he turned his head to the side. A ray of moonlight came through their one window, touching Malcolm's face, revealing the clench of a jaw. There was another soft moan. Nightmare.

Trip propped himself up on an elbow. Not touching his friend - unsure of the reaction he'd get if he did - he said, "It's all right. You've come home. It's all right."

Malcolm's face relaxed, and he settled into sleep.

Trip flopped back on the mat. State of mind? Maybe not so good - for either of them.

x-x

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