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x-x

Their next drop went even smoother than the first, and they'd spent the rest of that day, and their percentage of the client's fee, shopping for food and toiletries. On their walk back from the shops, Malcolm told him that there was a bathroom in the compound's main building, and Trip was looking forward to a shower, a decent meal, and an evening of not much to do.

Trip shifted the bag of shopping from one hand to the other. They'd been walking for a while, and as if by mutual agreement, neither had mentioned their conversation of the day before. Just as well - they both needed some downtime, and although the streets were crowded with shoppers and vehicles, he'd been enjoying the crisp air, stars showing bright against the dark sky above him. Malcolm had seemed to be relaxing a bit, too, his responses to Trip's questions occasionally even exceeding one sentence, although he still wasn't volunteering much; if Trip hadn't asked questions, they'd likely have spent the entire walk silent but for the exchange of occasional bits of essential information.

Entering a particularly crowded square, he smiled to see the bustling market up ahead. Malcolm had promised that one of these shops offered a drink somewhat similar to iced tea, and Trip was looking forward trying it. Everything else he'd eaten or drunk here so far had been more than a bit odd.

The whole situation had been odd, actually, but the ever-present darkness - that, especially, had taken some getting used to. Although he could see perfectly fine, he wondered if the darkness would eventually start to affect his mood. He'd heard of people going a bit nuts in places like Antarctica during their long, dark winters, and...

Malcolm abruptly stopped and, as the crowd parted and flowed around him, Trip saw him wince. Bags in one hand, he used the other to push his hair away from a face suddenly shiny with sweat. Taking a slow, deep breath, he closed his eyes.

Trip stood directly in front of him. "How are you doing?" When Malcolm didn't answer, he reached out a hand and touched his arm. "Malcolm?"

Malcolm jumped, but the touch seemed to bring him out of it. He opened his eyes. "Sorry?"

"You doing all right?"

Malcolm's gaze moved past him to take in the people around them. "I've been better."

Trip took in his friend's excessive pallor and the nervous look in his eye. "Let's go back," Trip said firmly.

As a measure of his upset, rather than argue, Malcolm simply nodded. They started walking and he said, "I'm sorry. It's been a while since I've been around so many people. And I was fine, but the square..." His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

"It's not a problem." When Trip saw Malcolm's disbelieving expression, he smiled. "Well, maybe it is a problem. But it's understandable." He looked away. "You've been through kind of a lot."

As they stepped onto a quieter side street, he could actually sense Malcolm's tension lessen.

"Kind of?" Malcolm asked sharply.

Trip turned to him, confused by his tone. "Yeah, I..." Then he saw the gleam in Malcolm's eye, and he almost laughed in relief. "You're busting on me, aren't you?"

Malcolm smiled enigmatically and walked on ahead.

Laughing, Trip said to his back, "I missed you too, Malcolm."

x-x

Another night and a much better dinner later, Trip was lying on his back on his mat and waiting for sleep, arms crossed behind his head. Malcolm had already dropped off, after having spent the night playing a game of "Who's dating who/who's doing what job/who's transferred on or off the ship." He'd been gone for two years, and he was curious, and Trip was glad to find him interested enough in his past life to be asking.

It had been a fairly comfortable evening, and Trip had thought of asking about the prison again, but decided to leave it. When and if Malcolm wanted to talk, he'd do so. No need to force it.

Trip realised that he hadn't thought of Malcolm as anything but a friend in... Well, for almost the entire day. Not as a prisoner, not as a drug runner, not as a "secret agent" or whatever... Not as a stranger back from a long time away, not as a scarred, damaged human being, but as a friend.

He heard Malcolm give a soft sigh. Trip turned onto his side and, pillowing his head on his arm, stared at his friend's profile. In this light, he could barely make out the scars.

Malcolm wasn't the same as before. Likely he never would be, after all he'd been through. But he was still Malcolm, still his friend. Maybe, despite it all, he'd be all right?

Trip closed his eyes. Maybe they'd both be all right.

x-x

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