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"Not Afraid" Author - Jensen | Genre - Missing Scene | Main Story | Rating
- PG-13 Author: Jensen *~*~*~*~*~* He'd considered many ways he could die - in battle, in the service of his ship, saving a fellow crewman's life, but he had never once considered execution. "Malcolm!" ”Can I help you?" Turning he found Commander Tucker trotting to catch up. The last thing he wanted right now was company. Trip pulled up beside him as he started forward again, never one to take a subtle hint. "I was going t' sickbay 'bout m' arm," he announced, as if it was an invite to dinner. "Phlox wants t' check it out again, but I can't see the difference m'self. Was wonderin' if you wanted t' walk with me?" "Want me to hold your hand?" Malcolm smirked, avoiding eye contact. "If I could find it!" "Oh!?" Concerned puzzlement darkened the commander's face. "I would have thought you'd want him t' take a look at y' face!" There was a pause in the armoury officers stride, brows creasing, face pinched. He was amazed, sometimes, at the ability of the man to put his foot in it! "Thank you! If I need another compliment I'll know where to come!" "Malcolm!" "Now," he indicated a door, pulling up outside, "if you'll excuse me, I'd like to take a shower!" Trip moved out of the way with the grace of a dancer, staring down at his friend. "Malcolm, are you alright?" Temper flared, arms folding defensively in front of him. "Am I alright?" He squinted as if reviewing the past few days, nodding slightly as he spoke. "Let's see," he ran a hand over his lower lip, "I carelessly lost my communicator, which meant that the captain and I had to go back down to the planet for it, which led to us getting arrested, which led to us being beaten, subjected to a medical examination, accused of being enemy spies and being sentenced to death!" He sucked in a frustrated breath, glaring at the man before him. "The upshot of which, is we've probably undermined the natural growth of an entire planet! Oh yes, commander," he hit the door control and stepped inside, looking back, "I'm alright. Nothing a plaster couldn't cure!" With that the door slid shut, leaving the commander standing alone in the corridor. Trip stared at the hatchway, concern bright in his eyes, worry etching little lines on his face. He touched the closed portal and sighed. "Damn!" With a shake of his head he moved on down to sickbay to keep his appointment with Phlox, leaving Malcolm to do what he did best - work through it all alone! *~*~*~*~* The shower head hiss soft warm water, causing small plumes of steam to spiral upwards. Slipping from his native clothing, finger tips traced the bruises across his chest and abdomen, the scratches and needle marks along his arms, the split lip and swollen cheek and he shivered. He could still feel the rope around his neck. He stepped into the shower, staring down at the water as it spiraled down the drain. He could still feel the rope around his wrists. He straightened, turning the water up, temperature changing from warm to hot as he shivered again, fingers of heat beating against sore flesh. Settling again, he leant one hand, straight armed against the side of the shower unit, watching the water swirling into nothingness, ignoring the all but scolding temperature against his spine. He felt the trapdoor falling away beneath his feet, felt the rope jerk
against his neck. Suddenly his body convulsed as a huge sob broke the surface, body closing down as shock hit him. Leaning forward against his straight arm, he let his tears wash over him, shivering growing worse as the day played out again in his mind. He could feel the fear welling up, threatening to drown him. Loud gulping sobs came so fast they robbed him of breath, of mind and he put his other hand against the glass, arms trembling in their effort to keep him upright, water massaging his body, water relaxing his mind, fear washed away with the steam. Slowly the tension abated, leaving him weak and tired. Finally opening his eyes he took a deep breath, gathering his control to him. Turning the shower off, no reason now to hide in its embrace, he dried himself and slipped into clean clothing. He had one more piece of business to take care of. *~*~*~*~* Trip looked up as the sickbay door slid open, smiling at the damp Englishman that stood there, nervous as a bride on her wedding night "Couldn't resist, huh?" He held up the empty uniform sleeve. Malcolm smirked, ignoring the water dribbling from still wet hair. "Well the doc seems to be doing you more 'arm than good." Trip groaned, and then saw the darkness behind his friend’s eyes. "Y'okay?" The armoury officer nodded, looking at his own hands before meeting those blue eyes. "Slight headache." "Don't worry," Trip smiled as Phlox approached, "the doctor'll fix y' right up." He could feel the rope around his neck. Malcolm shook his head, the nodded as Phlox approached. "How can I help you lieutenant?" He would always feel that rope.
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