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"Trepidation" by A. Rhea King
Rating: PG CHAPTER 4 Trip watched Malcolm walk into the mess hall. He ordered a cup of hot tea and toast, and sat down at a table alone, apart from everyone. Trip got up and walked over to Malcolm’s table, sitting down uninvited. “Hey, Malcolm.” “Sir.” Trip’s brow furrowed. He watched Malcolm neatly eat, something that was actually normal, but today it seemed to be done with deliberation. He also noticed Malcolm was wearing a new, neatly pressed uniform. His hair had been trimmed and he had just shaven. Even his fingernails were clean. Trip was used to Malcolm being neat and tidy, but there was something about it that seemed completely off today. He noticed that Malcolm looked pale and he sounded congested and every so often a raspy cough escaped. “How you holdin’ up?” Trip asked. Malcolm sat his toast down. “How do you mean, sir?” “Why are you siring me?” Malcolm looked at him. Trip held Malcolm’s gaze because there was something missing in it that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I mean you’ve been pretty distant the last three days. Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” Malcolm finished his tea and stood. “Excuse me, Trip. There’s someplace I need to be before we go to warp.” Trip nodded. Malcolm put his tray in the dirty dishes and walked out of the mess hall. Trip stared at the door; unable to shake the uneasiness he was feeling. # Phlox looked up when the door of Sickbay opened. He was at a monitor, downloading copies of the medical data he’d lost when the shuttle pod had sunk. He smiled, watching Trip walk up to him. “Good morning, Commander. What can do for you this morning?” Phlox cheerily greeted him with a large smile. Trip leaned on one arm against the wall. “Doc...has Malcolm been in here lately?” “You know I can’t disclose that.” Trip leaned on his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms. “I’m worried about him. He’s been distant and recluse. He doesn’t want to be around anyone and...today there was something just really wrong with him.” Phlox turned and walked over to another monitor. “Define ‘wrong,’ Commander.” “Well,” Trip looked at the floor. “He kept his conversation to a minimal. He was dressed like he was about to meet with brass. And he had a fresh trim. He had toast and tea, which is all he’s been having for the last three days. He looked pale and there was something about the way he looked at me...” Trip looked at Phlox. Phlox had stopped working and moving. He was standing stock still, his head turned slightly to listen to Trip. “What’s wrong?” Trip asked the doctor. “Describe the way he looked at you.” “It was...empty. No emotion. Hopeless.” “What did he say to you? Tell me everything.” “You seem upset.” “Please, just tell me what he said.” “Not much. He kept calling me sir up until the very end of the conversation, which he never does much anymore. We’re too close of friends for that. And then he ended the conversation saying there’s someplace he had to be before we went to warp.” Phlox disappeared into the back of Sickbay. “Doc?” Trip called after him. Phlox didn’t return. Trip walked toward the doors. # Phlox walked to a computer at the back and scanned of all exits leading out of the ship. He stopped, finding one with a bio-reading. He did a DNA comparison and the match came up as Malcolm’s. Phlox ran out of Sickbay, shoving Trip out of his way as he ran past. # Malcolm turned away from securing the inner hatch. He sat a small tool kit on the floor, and removed the cover of the outer hatch controls. Using the tools, Malcolm worked on the wires of the control panel by the outer hatch. Coughs and sniffles occasionally interrupted his work. The outer hatch clicked and the green light came on to show it was ready to open. Malcolm sat the tools down and reached out to open the outer hatch. The inner hatch opened and Malcolm turned. The hatch closed behind Phlox as he ran in. He grabbed Malcolm from behind, shoving him away from the hatch controls. Malcolm took a swing at him and he ducked back. “What are you doing, Lieutenant? What had to be done before we went to warp?” “None of your business!” Malcolm growled. “I think it is my business. What are you doing in this airlock? You were about to open the hatch without a ship outside this airlock. Why? Why did you set the inner hatch to lock behind you and scramble your code?” Malcolm shoved Phlox out of his way and reached out to open the outer hatch. Phlox grabbed Malcolm and threw him across the airlock, again putting himself between Malcolm and the controls. “If you open that hatch you’ll kill us both.” Malcolm turned, glaring at him. “Then leave!” Malcolm growled, “I’m just doing work. It’s none of your business.” “If you commit suicide, I don’t know that I would ever be able to forgive you, Malcolm.” Malcolm opened his mouth to reply but the words failed him. He closed his eyes, starting to shake. Malcolm sank to the floor crying. “Why... I HATE THE WATER. I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT! IT CAN NEVER GET YOU CLEAN!” Phlox cautiously crept forward. He knelt down next to Malcolm, careful to keep himself between Malcolm and the controls. “Why can’t it get you clean, Malcolm?” Phlox asked in quiet voice. “It can only kill you,” Malcolm whimpered. “It can also save you.” “I’m a coward.” “You’re not a coward. You’re brave. You risked your life for your ship by entering that race, by you were thinking of us, your crew, your surrogate family and your friends.” “I couldn’t open the hatch,” Malcolm moaned. “I can’t even kill myself! Father always said I was a failure. I was too sick or too weak or too scared. He said I was worthless.” “Your father was wrong and you know it. You have proven time and time again to us, your friends, that you aren’t weak, or scared. You never complain when you’re sick, even when you should.” Malcolm closed his eyes tight. He jumped up and made another attempt to get to the controls. Phlox moved faster and covered the controls with his body. “MOVE!” Malcolm screamed at him. “No,” Phlox said. “You are not committing suicide, Malcolm. I’m not letting you.” “I have to.” “Why do you think you must die?” “I couldn’t even drown like a man!” Phlox shook his head. “You should never drown like a man, Malcolm. Drowning is not a test of manhood.” “My uncle drow--” “Your uncle was in a different circumstance.” Fresh tears started falling down his face and Malcolm backed away from Phlox. “You’re judging me for dying like a coward.” Phlox followed Malcolm back against the inner hatch. “I am not judging you, Malcolm. You drown and there was nothing honorable or dishonorable about that. But if you commit suicide right now, you will not make your death any more honorable, or any less. You will simply be ending your life and taking away a person who is dear to this crew and me. I care about you and your well-being. I do not want you to die. Do you honestly believe that there is anyone on this ship that would want you to die?” “I couldn’t...” “You couldn’t what?” “I couldn’t...I was scared.” Malcolm’s voice grew weak and child-like. “I was scared of dying. Father...he would get so mad. He would tell me I should be stronger and not so weak. Being afraid to die was childish.” “How old were you when he told you that?” “Eleven.” “He was wrong.” “I can’t cope with this. I see it over and over. I’m always drowning alone. Scared and alone, just like he said I would one day. If I joined Starfleet, I could be certain I’d die scared and alone, because he’d never give me his blessing. I was on my own if I joined Starfleet.” “From the moment you were assigned to Enterprise, you have not been alone, Malcolm. You weren’t alone in that shuttle pod. Do you know what T’Pol told me? She said she tried to keep you with her when she was transported. She hoped that if she held onto you that both of you would be transported. It didn’t work. When you were transported, she was the first to begin CPR. Malcolm, if there was a critic among us with the cynicism of your father, T’Pol would be it, but she sees you as a man who has faced his worst fear and survived.” “Then I let her down because I’m only a coward.” “You aren’t a coward.” Malcolm shoved Phlox out of the way and reached for the hatch control. With strength that surprised Malcolm, Phlox grabbed him and threw him back against the hatch, careful not to hurt him doing so. He held Malcolm there, staring into Malcolm’s eyes. But there was no anger or no impatience in Phlox’s face, only concern. “If you open that hatch, we both die.” “Then you should leave.” “I’m not leaving. I am not leaving here until I know you are safe. And trying to kill both of us isn’t proving that. I don’t want to die any more than I want you to die. You are my friend. Are you listening to me, Malcolm? You are my friend. I care about what happens to you. I do not want you to die. You are not committing suicide. I’m not letting you go like that because you are my friend.” Malcolm started crying and the crying turned to sobs. Phlox drew him into a light hug, sinking to the floor with him. Malcolm’s whole body began to shake. Phlox gently patted his back. “Malcolm, there are many things about humans that fascinate me, but one that astonishes me the most is your species strength to endure and overcome hardships. You are stronger than your father ever gave you credit for. You will overcome this. He will never know how strong your will to live is and that that strength brought you back from death. Everything he ever said to you was wrong. He doesn’t know you. We see what he never has and we accept what weakness you do have. Everyone on this ship would grieve over you if you died, so by committing suicide, Malcolm, you would be hurting all of us. Is that what you want to do? Cause your friends pain by killing yourself?” Malcolm shook his head. “What’s wrong with me?” Malcolm cried. “There is a disorder among humans that I studied while I was on Earth. It is a disorder that can occur when a human experiences extremely traumatic events, including events that have lead to death. It’s called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and that is what is wrong with you, Malcolm. It is not a sign of weakness or cowardness. It is the sign of the human mind trying to find a way to cope with an experience it doesn’t know how to handle. And it is going to take us time to work through it.” “I feel humiliated.” “Why?” Malcolm pushed himself into sitting position. Phlox smiled. “Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on sometimes. No one will ever know you used mine, Malcolm. Besides, I’m a doctor, I’ve seen you naked and frankly, you’re just not my type.” Malcolm laughed a little. He wiped his tears off his cheeks. Phlox sat down opposite of Malcolm. “You don’t talk much about your childhood, I’ve noticed.” “I don’t care to relive it.” “I think today we should start reliving it, Malcolm. It almost cost you your life.” Malcolm looked at Phlox. He smiled. “On Preqitar, you kept saying you rode motorcycles as a teenager. What are motorcycles? What did you do with them?” Malcolm hugged his knees and began recounting the summers he spent with his friends terrorizing the city and countryside on dirt bikes. A conversation that eventually led to darker and much needed discussions about a childhood he’d spent all his life running from. # Archer glanced up when T’Pol walked into the Captain’s Mess and smiled. “Evening, T’Pol.” She walked around to her chair and sat down. She sat for a second and then turned to him. “Captain, I’m concerned about Lieutenant Reed.” Trip looked up from the spaghetti he had been preparing to eat. He looked at Archer. Archer’s smile waned and he looked down at his plate. “It has been a week since our ordeal and his behavior is bothersome.” “Bothersome?” Trip scoffed. “Try lack of bothersome. He doesn’t talk to anyone. All I’ve seen him eating is bowls of broth and hot tea and toast. His own crew has been saying he hasn’t been himself. He’s become negligent with his duties and leaves the second his shift if over instead of tinkering with some weapon or another. The Doc keeps brushing it off, telling me not to worry about him.” Archer sighed. “He has been reclusive, Captain,” T’Pol said. “I’m worried about his safety.” “Safety?” Archer asked. “He’s showing signs of depression,” T’Pol stated. Archer looked out the windows. “I stopped by his quarters to invite him to join us for supper tonight,” T’Pol told him, “ and he never answered his door, yet the computer said he was in his quarters.” “I’ve noticed he hasn’t been answering his door either, and he has it locked,” Trip added. “He does answer the COM, but not until you’ve practically yelled his name. Lately he looks like death warn over.” “I haven’t seen him. I wouldn’t know,” Archer admitted. “You have to talk to him,” T’Pol urged. He sat his napkin on the table and stood. “I’ll do it right now.” Trip and T’Pol watched him leave before looking at one another. # Archer stopped at Malcolm’s door and tapped the doorbell, but didn’t receive an answer. He tapped it four more times and still received no answer. Archer entered his security code and the door slid open. Malcolm’s quarters were dark, lit only by a dim light from the bathroom. Archer walked in and could see Malcolm’s dark form in his bunk. He walked over and shook Malcolm until he stirred. “Malcolm, wake up,” Archer said. “Who the’?” Malcolm muttered. “Your captain, Malcolm. Wake up.” Malcolm slowly slid into a sitting position. “Is there a’emergency?” Malcolm’s voice sounded rough and something about it was off. He coughed into his hand a couple of times. “No. Can I turn on some lights?” “There isn’t any emergency?” “No. Why are you in bed so early? It’s only seventeen hundred.” “Sir, I’m off duty. While I’m off duty, what I do in that time is my own business if I’m not mistaken. How... Did you override the lock?” “Malcolm, we have to talk. I rang your doorbell five times and you didn’t answer.” Malcolm was silent for a second. “I didn’t hear it.” “Why is that? Turn on some lights.” Malcolm reached back and tapped the controls on the headboard. A dim bank of lights came on in the room. Archer still couldn’t make out Malcolm because he was hidden in the shadow of the compartments over the bunk. “Why are you in bed?” “The, uhm... The medicine Phlox gives me puts me to sleep. Quite deep, actually.” Archer pulled Malcolm’s desk chair around and sat down. “What medicine?” Malcolm coughed. Now that Archer was closer he could hear Malcolm’s breathing was slightly raspy and he was congested. “Are you sick?” Archer asked. “I have pneumonia. It’s a bit of a bugger and determined to hang in for a length. I need to lay down, sir.” “Go ahead.” Malcolm folded his pillow and laid back down. More light shone on his face and Archer could see he did look like death worn over. “How long have you been sick?” “Shortly after we got back,” Malcolm coughed. “You’ve had us all worried since you drown, especially T’Pol. I think she feels responsible for it in some way. She thought you were exhibiting signs of depression and was worried about your safety.” Malcolm looked down. “She was worried about my safety, was she?” “Yes.” “Perhaps you should relay to her that her Vulcan instincts are rusty. That worry is a few days late.” “What do you mean?” “I don’t care to go into detail, but you need not worry. Doctor Phlox is helping me.” Archer closed his eyes for a second. “Why... Why would you think suicide was the answer, Malcolm?” “I never said--” “You didn’t have to, Malcolm. I just put two and two together. Phlox had told me a few days back that I needed to send someone down to fix the controls on the outer hatch on hatch three on C deck. I asked him what was wrong with it and he told me it had been tampered with. I asked him how he knew that and he gave him his confidentiality line.” “Please don’t tell anyone.” Malcolm’s voice started shaking. “Promise me that if things get that bad again you’ll come talk to me or Doctor Phlox, but you won’t ever try to commit suicide again. You are a valuable member to this crew and one of my closest friends and I don’t want to lose you like that. Ever.” “I give you my word, Captain.” “Then I swear on my life I’ll never tell a soul, Malcolm.” “Thank you, sir.” “I’m going to have a discussion with Phlox about your pneumonia. If he feels you need bed rest, I’m ordering it.” “Aye, sir.” “Do you want me to bring you anything from the mess hall?” “No, sir. I can’t keep much down.” “All right. I’ll let you get back to sleep then.” Archer patted his shoulder. He stood and left. Malcolm tapped his lights, repositioned in bed and went back to sleep. |
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