x-x

"How much did he take?" Trina asked. She squatted in front of Malcolm, trying to look into his eyes. With the man's head leaning back against the wall behind him and his lids at half-mast, that was no mean feat.

"Not much," Trip said, kneeling on the mat beside her. He held up a shaking hand. "A fingerful, more or less."

"Why?" she nearly spat, accusing eyes finally meeting his. "He never used to -"

"It wasn't him," Trip said. Or me, he thought. "It was the client."

She hissed in a breath, brow wrinkling in a frown. "Damn it," she muttered, turning back to Malcolm. "Malcolm? Can you hear me?"

It was supposed to have been their usual procedure for a drop: just an in-and-out. They'd get invited in, exchange the drugs for the money, and leave. Took minutes at most, a well-oiled machine built on Malcolm's past experience and Trina's well-established network. But this one - this one had been different as soon as it had started. At first, he'd figured it was because this was a new client. He should have gone with his gut - something was wrong, he'd felt it.

He snapped to the present when Malcolm groaned and pushed Trina's hand away.

He wished like hell that Phlox was there.

x-x

Malcolm cast a distrustful eye to the doorway above them, then took the stairs two at a time.

Trip shared his nerves, but followed. They'd been doing these kinds of drops for a few days, and done maybe six or seven in that time, all of which had pretty much been confined to clients Malcolm already knew from his time here. The few he hadn't known had been longstanding clients of Trina's. This was the first new client they'd been assigned.

The door opened as soon as Malcolm signalled, and they were led inside. Malcolm and the man exchanged information while Trip stood back a bit, taking in the surroundings. And some surroundings they were. The foyer they'd entered was the largest he'd seen on this planet, and very well appointed. The height of the ceiling was enhanced by a series of soft uplights, which allowed him to see the patterns painted there despite the dimness of the room.

"This way, please," the man said, his voice echoing slightly in the large space. "Nilo can see you now."

Trip stayed behind Malcolm as they were lead to a side room. Their guide left immediately, closing the door behind him.

Trip blinked against the relative brightness. There was a series of lanterns set on the floor at the edges of the room, each one spilling its flow of light upward onto walls of soft golden fabric. On Earth, it would have been considered muted, but here, and with his new eyesight, it was almost blinding.

As his vision adjusted to the light, he realised that there was a man sitting at a table, with two others, probably retainers, behind him. Simply from their stance, Trip had no doubt that they were well armed. And from relative elegance of the seated man's dress, he had no doubt who this was, and to whom this place belonged. Nilo.

Dark eyes hard against pale skin, the seated man leaned across the table. "You have what I ordered?" Despite the fact that there were two chairs in front of the table, the man made no indication that they should sit.

Malcolm walked forward, staying slightly in front of Trip. He nodded.

"You can put it there." Nilo waved a hand to the surface in front of him, his arm reflected in its shine.

Malcolm placed the package on the table and took a step back. As one of the retainers leaned forward to take it, Nilo held up a stilling hand. "How do I know this is what I'd ordered?"

Trip froze in place, heart racing. His eyes flicked from the man, to Malcolm, and back. Oh shit, he thought. Oh shit oh shit oh...

"We don't do that," Malcolm said, his voice low and even.

Nilo placed both arms on the table and leaned forward. With a wicked glint in his eye, he raised a brow. "So I give you the money and you leave, and I'm left with nothing. Or worse."

"You were given references." Malcolm stood at attention, back ramrod straight, eyes trained on his opponent.

Nilo nodded, acknowledging. "References lie."

Trip tried to catch Malcolm's eye, alarmed, but Malcolm was not taking his eyes off Nilo. His stance was tense and ready.

Nilo's lips twisted and he smiled coldly. "You try it."

Malcolm didn't budge. "We make deliveries. We don't -"

"That's surprising," Nilo said, interrupting. "I'd figured all you guys for users." Then, for the first time, his gaze shifted to take in Trip. "How 'bout him? He do it?"

"No." Almost imperceptibly, Malcolm moved his shoulder in front of Trip, as if shielding him.

Nilo leaned back in his chair, eyes moving from Trip to Malcolm. "How very charming. Protecting your friend," he said, twisting that last word. His face became stony. "One of you has to. Either you pick, or I will." He motioned to one of his retainers, who stepped forward and grabbed Trip.

Trip tried to jerk away, but the man was strong. Holding him with one firm arm, the guard lifted his weapon with the other, pointing it toward Malcolm. The other retainer grabbed the package and looked to his boss, who nodded from his position behind the table.

"You understand that this is for my own safety, and that of my friends. I can't take the risk." Nilo waved a hand to the retainer with the bag, who stepped toward Trip.

Trip tried to force himself away from his guard. He realised that he had no idea what this stuff actually did. He'd tried not to know. What if the stuff was addictive? The idea of addiction... Malcolm hadn't said anything about that, although he had said this stuff was bad news. The man came in close, and Trip tried to jerk away again.

Malcolm stepped right up to the table, closing the space despite the weapon trained on him. "Me," he said, his calm expression belied by the fire in his eyes. He leaned both palms flat on the table's glossy surface. Then he smiled, and it was the smile of a predator – hard, sharp, and vicious. "I'll do it."

"No!" Trip's attempts to protest had been ignored by all parties. He'd tried to struggle, but quickly gave up when he realised that it would make no difference - the situation was beyond his control.

Malcolm hadn't ingested much, but it had been enough, Trip thought, settling back on his heels. He knelt there and let his eyes dart around their room - to the window, the sink, Trina, anywhere but to the mat where Malcolm was seated; that was, until he heard his friend give a soft, laughing sigh.

Sinking to a seat on the mat, Trip watched his friend get lost in his own world. Trip wondered what Malcolm was seeing, because head back, face turned to the ceiling, he was smiling that same wide open smile he'd given to Trina when they'd first arrived here.

Trip knew the Casei was some sort of hallucinogen. Thank God and all that was holy, so far those visions, if that's what they were, seemed to be fairly benign. Still, the stuff had hit hard and heavy.

Moments after Malcolm had dipped his finger into the bag and licked it, rubbing the extra along his gums, his eyes had already gone a bit glassy. He'd looked up from the bag on Nilo's table, obviously trying to keep himself together. "Satisfied?" he'd asked, bitterness, and perhaps the drug, making his voice brittle.

"One moment," Nilo replied, his voice like silk. "Let's see what happens next." His icy smile chilled Trip to the bone.

Nilo nodded to the men around Trip and they stepped away, releasing him. Trip rubbed his left arm where one of the guards had wrenched it, but his eyes, like those of the rest of the room, were on Malcolm.

Malcolm stood in front of the table and stared at Nilo. After a moment, he swayed slightly, eyes closing in a languid blink.

"Ah," Nilo said softly. "Excellent." At that, he waved them out dismissively, apparently satisfied. He turned away, light glinting off dark hair as he stood.

Not bothering to watch what happened next, Malcolm had started moving for the door, Trip hustling to follow.

As they reached the door, Nilo said, offhand, "I look forward to doing business with you again."

They ignored the comment and kept moving, Trip keeping well within what would normally be Malcolm's personal space. And Malcolm made it almost all the way to the building's exit before he stumbled, catching himself with a hand against the wall.

"You all right?" Trip asked, keeping his voice pitched low in case anyone was nearby.

Malcolm looked up at Trip. His pupils had dilated, and his eyes were now bloodshot. He looked well and truly blitzed. "Look forward to doing business... not bloody likely," he murmured in response, slurring his words slightly. He pushed away from the wall and stumbled again, Trip catching him this time.

"We need to go," Malcolm said quietly, eyes only for the door. "It's already taking me."

Malcolm was right. Whatever was in that Casei, it worked fast.

Trip had helped him back, ignoring the stares of passers-by, who obviously had some clue and were just as obviously disgusted. Finally reaching their own door, Zorna, on guard duty once again, took one look at Malcolm and gave Trip a knowing grin. "You know he'll get kicked out for this," Zorna said, raising an eyebrow.

Trip didn't stop moving, throwing back, "He didn't -"

"Doesn't matter," Zorna responded from his place by the door. "Too much of a risk -"

Trip stepped down into the courtyard, and the rest of what Zorna was saying was cut off by the closing door.

Trina settled beside him on the mat, bringing Trip out of his memories. She placed a glass of water beside him and handed him a packet of something silver-blue and granular. "Mix this with the water, see if you can get him to drink some."

"What is it?" he asked, finally tearing his eyes from Malcolm.

"It'll help him as he comes down," was all she said.

Trip stared at the packet in his hand. "Will he be...?" He found that he couldn't finish.

"He should be fine," she replied, her voice tired.

"Should be?" Trip asked as his head shot up, surprise sharpening his words.

"There's a reason why we don't take this stuff ourselves." She winced slightly and ran a quick hand through her light hair. "Nine times out of ten the person is fine, once they come down. But that tenth isn't at all pretty." She turned dark eyes to Malcolm again. "It hit him fast, but he seems all right so far. Hopefully, he'll come off it just as quickly."

"How long does this normally last?"

"About a day, maybe less." She turned back to him, her face suddenly kind. "Let him sleep if he seems to want to, just make sure he doesn't drink too much water. Stuff makes you thirsty."

Trina shifted as if to get up, but Trip stilled her with a hand on her arm. "Are you going to kick us out?" he asked.

She lifted one assessing brow.

"Zorna said..."

Trina pursed her lips. "Zorna is a very effective guard, but not a particularly pleasant man." She got up and nodded toward Malcolm. "We'll talk again when he's better."

Damn, Trip thought as she left. He'd seen the truth in her eyes. With a sinking heart, he knew they would be asked to leave.

He turned his gaze back to Malcolm, who was now sitting slumped against the wall, arms propped on bent knees, head down. Trip thought he was... Holding himself still, Trip listened, and would have smiled had the situation been different. Malcolm was humming the theme from the old film, "The Empire Strikes Back," of all things. Strange choice.

Trip hadn't seen that movie in years. Last time had been at movie night, must have been a couple years ago, now. Why in the world would Malcolm be humming...? Trip cut himself off with a gasp, realisation hitting him hard. If he remembered right, it was the last movie Malcolm had seen before he'd gone to prison.

Maybe not so strange after all.

"Malcolm?" he asked softly. He nudged his friend's leg with a hand. "Malcolm?"

Languidly, as if moving through water, Malcolm lifted his head, eyes still shut. His smile was gone. "Right," he said, his voice flat.

Trip poured the powder Trina had given him into the glass of water and swirled it around until the liquid went clear. "Drink this," he said, briefly pressing the glass to the back of Malcolm's hand.

Malcolm moved his hand slowly. His fingers circled the cup. Trip helped him lift it to his lips, and took it from him after he'd taken a sip. Malcolm's arm again rested on his knee, hand dangling loosely. With effort, he opened his eyes for a moment, then let them fall closed again.

All this, and for what? Trip thought as he put the glass down beside him again. They'd never even got the drop Malcolm had been hoping for, and now Trina would consider it too much of a risk to keep them working here. He watched a smile flicker across Malcolm's features, then disappear, and he closed his eyes against the sight. What the hell was in that stuff?

He knew of drugs on Earth that were so bad, you could actually crave them after only having used them once. Was Casei like that? Would Malcolm be one of those poor souls? Trip shook his head, trying to ward off those thoughts.

He could see why Trina would think that keeping them here would be too much of a risk. If you were trying to fight those cravings off, and the stuff was all around you, it would be next to impossible not to be tempted. Hell, even if addiction wasn't an issue, what if Malcolm liked it? What if he simply... Trip shook his head. That wasn't the Malcolm he knew. That man... But this wasn't that man.

Trip opened his eyes and watched his friend dream. Another smile sped across Malcolm's face, gone as fast as it had come, and Trip realised that this was the most he'd seen Malcolm smile since he'd returned.

Trip moved so that he was sitting side-by-side with Malcolm, and he slumped back against the wall. What if the drug helped Malcolm forget, or at least made him feel better? Wasn't that how some drugs worked - narcotics, for example? They'd take away your pain - physical, psychological, whatever. What if the stuff worked - what if it took away his pain, and he wanted to take more?

Before Malcolm had gone to prison, Trip would never have thought such a thing, but now? Malcolm himself had said he was a different man now. Trip glanced sideways at Malcolm, then away again; the dreams, if that's what they were, certainly seemed to be pleasant enough. And if the visions were pleasurable... Trip winced. They were likely a sight more pleasurable than anything Malcolm had recently been through.

Maybe Trina was right, in a way. After everything Malcolm had been through, everything they'd been through, maybe they should just cut their losses and go.

x-x

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