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x-x
Trip started awake. Groaning, he pressed his palm to the back of his neck. He'd fallen asleep sitting against the wall, and from the state of the crick in his neck, hours must have passed. He'd dozed off in the darkness despite himself, the tension of the day exhausting.
Hearing a strangled shout, his eyes shot to where Malcolm was sleeping curled up beside him. In the moonlight streaming through the window, he seemed even paler than Phlox had made them, his skin filmed by a sheen of sweat. Voice strained, he cried out again, arm flying out as if warding something off.
Malcolm had been having nightmares off-and-on since they got here; in the tiny room, Trip couldn't have helped but be aware of his friend's night time suffering. So far he'd been able to talk him through them, settle him back to sleep, and he tried that again now.
"Malcolm," he said softly. When he got no response, he said it again and touched Malcolm on the shoulder.
That's all it took. Before he could say more, Malcolm was crouched in the corner, back to the room, shouting for his life. Words unintelligible, he pressed his head into the corner and clawed at the walls.
Jesus.
Before Trip could think about it he was beside Malcolm. He could just see his face despite the hair falling forward and shielding it from view, and he caught a glimpse of wild eyes open and staring, expression twisted in anger or fear. A small streak of blood marked the wall where one desperate hand scraped.
Afraid to touch him, instead he tried calling to him. No response. Heart pounding, he tried again. "Malcolm!" he said a third time, his own terror forcing out the word.
Malcolm's eyes changed and shock flashed through them. He twisted his head to bring Trip into view. "Trip?" he asked, voice hoarse from the shouting.
At this, Trip did reach out and touch Malcolm's shoulder. Tight muscles thrummed under his hand. "Hey, kid."
Malcolm blinked rapidly. "Why am I here?"
Trip pulled and Malcolm let himself be turned. He collapsed on the floor, back to the wall behind him. Arms wrapped around himself reflexively, he drew his legs in tight. "I was -" He cut himself off, shaking his head and shutting his eyes.
"Were you dreaming about the prison?" The words were out of Trip's mouth before he could stop them.
Malcolm didn't reply.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Trip asked hesitantly. He was torn between wanting to hear, and not. Trip wasn't sure how much the drugs were still affecting Malcolm, but he suspected a lot, and he didn't want to learn anything that Malcolm wouldn't want to tell him if in his right mind.
"No."
"Okay." Relieved, Trip stood and went to the kitchen area, where he got the glass from earlier. It was still half full. Returning, he sat beside Malcolm, who didn't appear to have moved. "Drink this."
Eyes opening, Malcolm stared down at the glass. "Why?"
"It'll help."
With a raised eyebrow and a flash of the old Malcolm in his eye, he reached out an unsteady hand for the glass and drained it. "Tastes like mint tea."
"Somehow I suspect it's not."
Malcolm gave him a cracked smile, soon broken by a huge yawn. "We'll have to leave."
"I know," Trip replied, thinking of his earlier words with Trina.
Malcolm uncurled, straightening his legs on the floor. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, then pushed his hair back from his face and yawned again.
"Get some rest," Trip said, voice low. "We can talk in the morning."
Malcolm nodded and lay down where he sat, not bothering to move to the mat. He was out before he even hit the floor.
x-x
The next morning, before Malcolm was even up, Trip went out to see Trina. He wanted to catch her before she started her day.
Her door was open, the sounds of activity flowing through it, so he knocked on the jamb and went in. There were people bustling about in the kitchen, and the smells of food from the stove. It was quite a contrast from the first time he'd been there. The current scene was almost domestic.
Catching sight of Trina working at the table, he stepped to her and said without preamble, "Can I do the drops?" She looked at him in surprise, but he continued, talking fast but unwilling to stop himself from doing so. "I know, with the Casei, I know Malcolm can't do it, but..." he let his voice trail off, unsure of how to finish or what her reaction would be.
Trina frowned and wiped her hands on a cloth. "I didn't think you approved."
Trip felt himself blush. "I don't." He glanced at the others in the kitchen, and they looked away. He dropped his voice. "We don't have any place else to go, and Malcolm..."
Malcolm would be proud of his acting skills.
Her eyes met his, and he found understanding there. "He's been through a lot, yes?"
He let all pretence fall away, able to be honest now. "Yeah." He shifted uncomfortably. "I'd still like..." He hesitated. "I want to bring him along." Trina raised a hand to protest, but he cut her off. "I won't let him near the stuff. I promise. It's just that..." Looking to the others in the room, he waved her out the door.
Sitting on the stoop beside her, the ever-present darkness softening his words and giving him courage he might not have had in brighter light, he scuffed one shoe in the dirt. "I want him there so I can keep an eye on him. He's been through a lot - you said it yourself. He's not always..." He didn't realise he'd touched his temple until after he'd done so, and he dropped his hand in a rush. He'd been thinking of Malcolm's scar. "He's been through a lot," he repeated in a near-whisper. He turned and faced her. "I'm not always sure that he's okay." He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath.
"The Casei may make that worse, at least for a while," Trina said quietly.
"I figured as much." He thought of Malcolm's violent nightmare of the night before. Maybe that'd be it, the worst of it. Maybe he'd come down off the Casei and be fine.
Oh, who was he kidding? Malcolm, lately, had not had that kind of luck.
"How long have you known him?" she asked softly.
"A long time," he replied, mirroring her tone.
Trina considered him carefully. "He'll know what you're doing. I'm not sure he'll react well to being babysat."
Trip felt his lip curl in a sad smile, remembering similar words from Malcolm back when they'd been in sickbay. "I'll tell him I need him there for my protection. He'll buy that." As she started to shake her head, he jumped in quickly. "It's a risk. I know it. One drop, see how it goes. Please."
x-x
Trip stopped in the doorway, holding himself still. Malcolm was still solidly asleep. He'd somehow managed to end up half-on, half-off the mat, on his side with his head pillowed on an out thrown arm. The blanket Trip had pulled over him the night before was pooled by his feet.
Cautiously so as not to wake the man, Trip moved to the kitchen area and grabbed one of the small cakes they'd bought some days before and, filling a glass with water, settled on his mat. He took a bite of cake, staring out the window above Malcolm's bed. He was looking down to take a second bite when his eyes were pinned by Malcolm's gaze.
Malcolm hadn't stirred other than to open his eyes.
Trip tensed. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said quietly. "How are you feeling?"
Malcolm's eyes moved to the cake. "Hungry." He looked at Trip again. Malcolm's gaze was direct, his eyes clear, if tired.
Trip smiled in relief. Cocking his head, he said, "I have another if you'd like it. They aren't too stale."
Slowly, Malcolm pushed himself upright. "I could eat most anything," he replied, stretching his neck and shoulders carefully. "How long was I out?"
"A good ten hours, maybe more." At Malcolm's look of surprise, he shrugged. "You needed it. You were pretty..." He left the rest unsaid, sure that his expression said what he couldn't.
Malcolm winced. "I don't remember very much." He ran a rough hand across his stubble. "Well, I remember leaving Nilo's, and..." he hesitated a moment. "...some of the walk here, but otherwise? It's all a bit..." He moved his hand vaguely.
"You didn't do anything embarrassing," Trip said with a slight smile. He purposefully didn't mention the nightmare. If Malcolm didn't remember it, that was probably for the best. He noticed Malcolm looking at his cake, so he slid it over to him, along with his glass. "I'll get another."
Standing, he was about to step to the kitchen again when Malcolm stopped him with a word. "When do we have to leave?"
Trip looked down at his friend. He hadn't planned on talking about this so soon. "We don't. I was able to convince Trina to let me do the drops."
"But how will you...?"
Trip knew where Malcolm was going with this. How would Trip complete their mission? He wouldn't even know if they'd reached their contact. "She agreed to let you go with me." Trip turned to the stove, his back to Malcolm.
"How did you manage that?" Malcolm asked, wariness and caution in his tone.
"I told her I needed you there, for protection." He fished out another cake from the bag.
"And she bought that?" Malcolm asked, doubt clear.
"More or less," Trip replied, filling a glass. Turning back to Malcolm, he returned to his place on the mat. "I also told her I was worried about you."
"And that convinced her?"
"That did," Trip said, taking a sip from his water.
"Because she thinks I'm... What, exactly," Malcolm said, a statement rather than a question.
Trip put down his cup and leaned toward Malcolm. "Between the Casei and the..." Glancing at Malcolm's scarred temple, he hesitated before he said, "...the everything else." He sighed when he saw Malcolm look away. "She's not blind, Malcolm. She knew that something... She knew you'd been hurt."
"Hurt," Malcolm said, seeming to ponder the word. He flashed a brief smile that reminded Trip of the one he'd given Nilo. Sharp. Predatory. His gaze met Trip's again, and there was something deeply unsettling there. "That's one way to describe it."
x-x