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Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive .. |
Title: Ache
Author: RoaringMice
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Pairing: Tucker/Reed
Rating: PG-13
Category: Slash
Summary: Malcolm gets sick, and Trip has a bit of an "Aha!" moment.
Comments: For MaryC., who wanted the following: Tu/R; Malcolm gets sick--serious and life-threatening; angst; humour and/or fluff; happy endings.
Archived to Reed's Armory on 07/01/2005.
Malcolm wiped his palm, hard, across his forehead, then he moved his hand to the back of his neck, trying to rub away some of the stiffness that seemed to have settled there. He took a deep breath and tried to work the stiffness out of his arms and back, then he surreptitiously glanced about the bridge--luckily, no one seemed to have noticed his discomfort. He looked back down at his station, trying to focus.
He'd had a low-level headache yesterday, and he'd taken a pain killer and decongestant before bed last night, hoping to knock it out. Instead, it had grown sharply worse, to the point where he'd actually woken in the night and stumbled into the lav for a second dose of the painkiller. He sighed and closed his eyes for a second. He felt like shite. He'd definitely go see Phlox after shift.
Opening his eyes, he glanced at the chronometer. Seven hours. Surely he could hold up for seven more hours.
"Sir, we have an incoming hail," Hoshi said in surprise, turning toward Captain Archer.
Jon looked up from his padd, his astonishment apparent in his expression. "From who?" he asked. "The scan we just took showed no one nearby, and we're days from the nearest settled planet."
T'Pol interjected, "We now show a vessel off our bow." Working quickly at her station, she added, "We have no vessels like it in our database."
"They call themselves 'The Przpraska'," Hoshi said.
T'Pol nodded. "We have no record of such a people."
Jon turned to Malcolm, "What is their weapons capability?"
God, it was cold in here. Malcolm shivered as he stared down at his station, trying desperately to focus on anything other than his headache. He hissed in air through his teeth. The mild nausea that he'd felt since this morning was getting worse. Brilliant.
He tried to read the text on his monitor, but found...now that was odd. It was like the middle of his vision was a grey blank. He could see the text around the blank area, but it was like seeing it from his peripheral vision. If he tried to move his eyes and focus on it, the blank area moved to block it.
He looked up from his station. Okay, now...that can't be good. The grey blank remained in the centre of his vision, and on the periphery where he could see the lights on the ceiling around the greyness, the lights were haloed. He squinted against their brightness.
"Malcolm!"
Malcolm turned towards his captain's loud voice. "Yes, sir?"
"What is the weapons capability of the Przpraskian ship?" Jon replied, impatiently.
"Ship, sir?" Malcolm said, confused, trying to make out his captain's face through the visual disturbances.
Jon looked at Malcolm in puzzlement. "The ship off our bow."
Malcolm nodded and looked down, trying to read the data on his screen. "Um, I'm sorry..." he said vaguely as the world went black around him.
Malcolm opened his eyes slowly. Groaning, he turned his head to the side slightly and squinted, trying to block out the brightness of the overhead lights as his head swam.
"Hey, kid."
Malcolm tried to focus on the face in front of him. He couldn't quite make it out. "Trip?" he asked, his voice rough and low. He felt a hand, gentle on his arm, move down to take his hand.
"Yeah, 's me. I heard that you were sick. How you feelin'?"
Malcolm tried to sit up. "How long have I been here?"
"About an hour," Trip replied, gently pushing Malcolm back down on the bed.
Malcolm lay down, not speaking for a moment, slowly drifting. "I think we're out of serviettes," he murmured. He felt a hand pat his own, then move away.
"That's okay. Go back to sleep."
Malcolm nodded and closed his eyes.
Trip stood, readying himself to go back to engineering. Although he knew he needed to get back to work, instead he stood there, looking down at where Malcolm lay prone on the sickbay bed. His friend had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past three days, ever since his collapse on the bridge.
He reached over and rested his hand on Malcolm's arm again, watching him sleep. He could feel the other man's heat under his hand, his fever still raging. He squeezed his arm. "You'll be okay, Malcolm," he murmured under his breath, his voice shaking slightly. He opened his eyes and looked up, reaching up with his free hand to wipe tears from his eyes. "Stop it," he ordered himself harshly. "He'll be fine."
He started at a noise behind him, turning to see Phlox approaching, a hypo in his hand.
"How's he doing, doc?" Trip asked, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes as he moved his hand away from Malcolm.
Phlox peered at his patient. "Still not well. His fever is quite high, although the medications are keeping it lower than it might be otherwise. As we'd discussed before, the bacteria affecting Lieutenant Reed are unfamiliar to me, and I fear that I'm running out of options. The antibiotics I've tried have been ineffective."
Trip nodded and broke his gaze away from Phlox, inhaling a shaky breath as he turned back to Malcolm.
The doctor administered the injection, then moved away from his patient and stood next to Trip, watching him carefully. He could see that the engineer was upset, and looked exhausted. "How are you?"
Trip looked at him with surprise. "Fine. Why?"
"You look tired. You've been working long hours, and spending most of your off-time here."
Trip shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I just..." He hesitated, then flashed a tight smile. "I don't want him to be alone."
Phlox nodded. "I understand, but you need to get some rest." He smiled gently. "You won't be of use to him if you make yourself sick."
Trip nodded, looking unconvinced, and Phlox made to move away, stopping himself suddenly and turning back to Trip. "You're more than welcome to sleep here, commander."
"The Przpraska were actually a lot of fun, once you got to know them," Trip said conversationally, his eyes never leaving Malcolm's face. He thought he saw Malcolm smile, but he wasn't sure. He'd been awake a few minutes earlier, but his eyes were closed now.
"They didn't mean to startle us. They just get around by, well, hopping from one place to another." Trip made a jumping motion with his hand, and then he leaned forward. "You should have seen their ship," he said with soft enthusiasm. "What an engine. I've never seen anything like it." Smiling, he grasped Malcolm's hand with his. "You would have loved their weapons systems."
Trip rolled over in the bed, turning to watch Malcolm sleep. The lights in sickbay had been lowered, and the only sounds were those of Phlox's animals, velvety rustlings in the darkness of the room, and Malcolm's raspy, harsh breathing.
Trip pulled the covers up over his shoulders, twisting them in his fist against the bed as he lay on his side. The past several days had been rough. The bacteria were raging through Malcolm's body; he was having fewer moments of consciousness, and those few were spent in delirium.
Trip rolled over onto his back, unsure of why he was still spending his off-hours here. It was starting to seem pointless--Malcolm certainly didn't know that he was here; but Trip couldn't stop. Going back to his cabin, sleeping there, well...he just didn't want to leave his friend alone.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep as images of Malcolm's grey eyes flashed and swirled through his mind.
Trip's eyes shot open and he lay in the bed, still, listening, his heart racing. Something had woken him. What? A cry, he thought he'd heard a cry, but now there was only silence. He turned to Malcolm, seeing that his friend had shifted, his arms now resting on his stomach. He watched as his friend's arms shot out, rigid, and Trip sat up quickly. He jumped off his bed and ran to the nearby comm., calling Phlox.
Trip moved back to Malcolm's bedside. "Shit," he said, frightened, watching Malcolm's lips turn blue. Then he heard Malcolm draw an irregular breath, and start jerking, gripped by a seizure. Trip's hands shook as he tried to steady his friend just enough to ensure that he didn't roll off the narrow bed, without restraining his movement and hurting him.
Trip didn't turn when the doors to sickbay opened and Phlox entered. The doctor walked quickly to Malcolm's side. "Febrile seizure," he said softly as he administered a medication. Trip watched as Malcolm's movements slowed, then stopped. He heard his breathing even out, and watched as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"He bit the inside of his mouth," Phlox said reassuringly as he turned Malcolm onto his side. "This should help his breathing, and make sure that his airway is clear."
Trip took a step away from the bed, inhaling an unsteady breath. He sat down heavily in a nearby chair, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands, trying to control his shaking as the doctor worked over Malcolm.
After a few minutes, Phlox pulled a chair up next to his. "His fever spiked in the night, causing the seizure. I've brought his temperature back down. The seizure did not cause any damage."
Trip nodded, still staring down at his knees.
"Why don't you go to your quarters for the rest of the evening?" Phlox said kindly.
Trip looked up at him, his eyes wild and dark.
"You need to take a break, commander," Phlox ordered softly. "I'll call you if there is any change."
Phlox watched the door close behind Mr. Tucker. He sighed, then turned to his patient, wondering if the commander was consciously aware of how he felt about the lieutenant, or if those feelings were yet to surface.
Human relationships were a marvel to him. Their beginnings, especially, tended to be so tentative, completely unlike how relationships typically began back at home.
The doctor looked down at the monitors. Hopefully, Mr. Reed would survive this, and the pair would be able to see their relationship blossom.
"Right, right, coming," Trip muttered, burrowing further under the covers as he slid back into sleep. Then the comm. buzzed again, and he sat up quickly. "Malcolm," he said sharply as he threw the blankets aside and moved to his wall comm., clad only in pyjama bottoms.
"Yeah?" he said, pushing the comm. with one hand as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the other. He glanced at the chronometer in alarm. He'd been sleeping for nine hours.
"Commander," he heard Phlox say. "I may have some good news. Could you come to sickbay, please?"
"Right. Two seconds," Trip said frantically, breaking the comm. link as he grabbed a nearby shirt and sprinted out the door, barefoot, his hair in disarray.
Trip stood next to Malcolm's bed, smiling cautiously. "Do you have any slippers? My feet are freezing."
Phlox nodded and bustled off towards the cabinets across the room. Trip pulled a chair up beside Malcolm's bed and sat down next to his friend. He leaned forward, resting both arms on the bed next to Malcolm's head, and put his chin down on his arms. "Phlox figures he's found a medication that can help you, Malcolm," he whispered. "He found it buried in the medical information that the Przpraska gave him. He really thinks this might work." Trip straightened up slightly, and brushed the hair back from Malcolm's hot forehead with his hand. "We're going to try it in a few minutes." He laughed softly. "He's got it brewing right now, and it needs a bit longer before it's ready." Trip moved his fingers across Malcolm's cheek, to his shoulder, and down his arm, finally grasping his friend's hand. He squeezed it gently as the doctor returned to his side, slippers in hand, a robe across his arm.
"I thought you could use the robe as well," Phlox said brightly.
Trip nodded gratefully, accepting the clothing from the doctor. "Thanks." He dropped the slippers in front of his chair, sliding his feet into them. "How much longer?" he asked as he stood and wrapped the robe around his shoulders, pushing his arms through.
"Not long," Phlox replied. Hearing a "bing" behind him, he smiled. "Or now." The doctor turned and walked back to the counter where he'd been preparing the medication.
Trip sat back down in the chair, smiling. "This should be it, Malcolm," he whispered as Phlox returned to his side, hypo in hand. He grabbed Malcolm's hand and held it firmly.
"If it works, we should see a change almost immediately," Phlox said, leaning over his patient to inject the medication. "He may be a bit bleary at first, sore and very tired."
Trip held his breath and waited. At first he didn't notice any change. Then, he thought, he wasn't sure, though, but it seemed like Malcolm's breathing was smoother.
Phlox, with a careful eye on his monitors, smiled broadly. "Excellent," he said brightly.
Malcolm stirred. Trip looked at his face, and was happy to see Malcolm's red-rimmed eyes staring back at him. "Hey," he said softly.
"Hurts," Malcolm said softly, his voice rough.
"What hurts?" Trip said, concerned.
"My hand. You're squeezing too hard."
Trip laughed and released his hand.
"I didn't say to let go, commander," Malcolm said, closing his eyes again. His voice fading, and slightly slurred, he continued. "I'd prefer you held on, sir."
Trip gently took Malcolm's hand again. "You should call me Trip."
"Yes, Trip, sir," Malcolm said quietly, a soft grin on his face. "Please stay, Trip, sir."
"I'm not going anywhere," Trip replied, laughing softly.
Trip entered sickbay to see Malcolm easing himself off the biobed, Phlox smiling broadly as he stood nearby. Phlox glanced towards Trip. "Ah, commander, I'm glad you could be here for this momentous occasion."
Trip laughed as he walked to the bed. "I'm sure you're as glad to be rid of him as he is glad to be out of here."
Phlox grimaced slightly. "Yes, well, be that as it may..." he paused as Malcolm stumbled and he reacted, grabbing his patient's arm. "Perhaps you aren't quite ready to leave sickbay, lieutenant."
Trip saw Malcolm's eyes flash as Phlox helped him sit back on the bed. Before his friend could react and say something cheeky, Trip jumped in. "I'm off-duty now, I can help him back to his quarters." Seeing the doctor's doubt, he smiled. "I'll stick around tonight, make sure nothing bad happens. Would that be all right, doc?"
Phlox nodded. "Contact me if there are any problems." He turned to Malcolm. "And I'll want to see you back here tomorrow morning, 08.00 hours."
Malcolm nodded as Trip helped him stand and shuffle towards the door.
Trip and Malcolm slowly made their way down the corridor toward the lift, Trip gently guiding Malcolm, hand to his elbow. Once they entered the lift, Malcolm slumped against the wall.
"You don't look so hot," Trip said, worried. "Maybe you should go back..."
"No," Malcolm said firmly, an edge to his tone as he straightened up and pulled himself away from the wall with some effort. "I'll be fine. I'm just tired, that's all." He looked up at Trip and, seeing genuine concern, his expression softened. "I'm sorry, I'm knackered. I think I'll be fine once I get some real sleep." Seeing that Trip wasn't convinced, he reached out and grasped the other man's arm. "Really, I'm fine," he said, smiling slightly. The lift doors opened, and Malcolm stepped into the corridor, Trip walking quickly to catch up to him, then keeping one hand on Malcolm's arm, just in case.
They entered Malcolm's quarters, and Trip settled Malcolm on the bed, asking, "Do you want something to eat?"
Malcolm shook his head, "Maybe later." He wiped his hand across his eyes. "I need to sleep first." Smiling at Trip, he slid under the duvet, then said, "You can watch something on the vid if you'd like. It won't bother me."
Trip settled himself in the chair, reaching forward to turn on the monitor, scrolling through the menu looking for something to watch to occupy his time. He settled on college football, and sat back to watch the game, the sound down low. He got lost in the game, and realised that he must have dozed off only when he opened eyes and saw that 20 minutes had passed. Surprised, he glanced over at Malcolm. His friend was sleeping, peaceful, his dark lashes feathered out across pale cheeks.
He has beautiful eyes, Trip thought. It's not fair that a man could have such lovely...
He stopped himself, tearing his eyes away. What the...what am I doing? He looked back at Malcolm, confused. Oh, damn. No way. Not possible. Absolutely impossible, he thought anxiously. He looked away from Malcolm, back toward vid, not seeing it, instead lost in thought.
"I'm straight," he said out loud, softly. Then he looked back at Malcolm. "God help me."
"Malcolm would love this movie," Jon laughed, indicating the screen where yet another vehicle had exploded in a huge burst of light and sound.
Trip just looked at him.
Puzzled at his friend's lack of response, Jon leaned forward, the film still playing in the background. "You've been awfully quiet tonight, Trip. Anything wrong?"
Trip looked at him tentatively, taking a long sip from his beer. Then he nodded. "I'm, um..." he grimaced. He took a deep breath. "I'm not sure where to start."
Jon picked up remote and switched off the film. "What's wrong?"
Trip looked down at his drink, hesitating. Then he looked back up to Jon. Without expression, he said, "I think I'm falling for someone."
Jon raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly, and sat back. "That's great, Trip," he said tentatively. "So what's the problem?"
Trip took another sip from his drink. "Well, there are several."
Jon took a sip from his own bottle. "Is she a direct subordinate?"
Trip shook his head, smiling slightly. "No, no, nothing like that," he said, waving that concern away with his bottle.
Jon smiled. "Is she an alien?"
Trip laughed slightly. "No, although with my track record..." Then he sobered. "Actually, it's worse."
"Worse?"
Trip nodded. He looked away and took a drink from his bottle.
Jon leaned forward, putting one hand on Trip's leg. "It's okay, Trip. Whatever it is."
Trip wouldn't look at him. Staring over Jon's shoulder, he sighed. Then, very quietly, he said, "It's a guy."
"Oh!" Jon said in surprise, leaning back. Then, more quietly, "Oh."
Trip nodded, looking directly at Jon. "I'm not sure what to do."
Jon shifted uncomfortably. "Um, does he like you back?"
Trip shrugged, taking another sip, not moving his eyes from Jon's.
Jon sighed. After a moment, he said, "I didn't realise that you..."
Trip interrupted. "I don't. At least, I haven't before. This was...well, this was kind of a surprise."
Jon nodded. Then he smiled. "Can I ask who it is?"
Trip shook his head. "No, not yet."
Jon gave Trip a faux leer. "It's not me, is it?"
"God, no!" Trip exclaimed, laughing. Then, seeing the look on Jon's face, he said, "Not that you aren't a good-looking guy and all that, but jeez, Jon, I mean..." he blushed.
Jon laughed.
Trip buzzed Malcolm in his cabin. He shuffled his feet as he waited, then the door opened, revealing Malcolm in uniform, looking much more himself, although still pale and slightly tired.
"Commander?"
"Can I come in?" Trip asked, nervous.
Malcolm nodded and Trip stepped past him into the cabin, the door shutting behind him. Trip turned to Malcolm, who was leaning against the door, arms crossed, a curious expression on his face.
"I wanted to talk to you." Trip shifted nervously, tearing his gaze away from Malcolm's. Glancing toward the chair, he asked, "Could we sit, please?"
Malcolm nodded, and Trip sat in the chair, Malcolm settling across from him on the bed.
Trip looked at Malcolm, tapping his hand nervously on his knee. "You look better. Back on duty today?"
Malcolm nodded. When Trip didn't speak, he said, "Is that what you came to see me about, commander?"
Trip shook his head, clenching his fist and starting an uneasy beat with his foot. "No, I just...I wanted to apologise. I've been kind of avoiding you for the past couple of days..."
"I'd noticed."
Trip smiled slightly. "Yeah, well..."
Malcolm just stared at him, an odd expression on his face.
Suddenly, Trip stood and started pacing. He stopped, and stared down at Malcolm. "I just, um, when you were sick, I realised, um..." He took a deep breath, and sat down once more. Leaning forward, he began again. "I realised how much you mean to me." He paused, and then shrugged. "It kind of snuck up on me. I'd never, I mean, um..."
Malcolm leaned forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his hand on the side of Trip's face, then ran it up into Trip's hair. Smiling slightly, he softly, gently, brushed his lips against Trip's. Trip gasped and closed his eyes, placing one hand on Malcolm's leg, leaning in to the kiss.
After a moment, Malcolm pulled away, smiling slightly, Trip's hand still on his leg. He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "Commander?"
Trip smiled broadly. "You should definitely start calling me Trip."
~the end~