The BLTS Archive - No Turning Back
#3: Once Bitten
by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com)

---

Author's Note: This story is a joint effort between myself and Red who
researched and wrote almost all of the brilliant medical factors and
dialogue. She is particularly responsible for Parts 5 and 6 which were
giving me nightmares until she stepped in. Many thanks Redhead! *hugs*
I can't take all the credit for this story fully to myself as I know
she put her heart and soul into it.

--

I'm not willing to be so open, transparent, no not yet Once bitten
twice shy is what you get (But here in front of you, there's nothin'
that I can do.) Victoria Beckham (Mind Of It's Own)

---

Tucker drew a deep, appreciative breath as he followed Reed into the
underground dining room. "It sure smells good," he murmured; giving
Reed's hand a light squeeze, he extricated his fingers and rubbed at a
spot just near his nose as he moved to sit at the table. "I'm
starved," he added, glancing up with a small smile as Reed moved about
the room laying the table ready for their meal.

"You work too hard," Reed said, "as always." He set two plates on the
table and laid out knives and forks, then turned to fetch a pitcher of
cooled fruit juice from the sideboard. "Dinner will be ready in a few
minutes, want a drink while you wait?"

"Sure." Tucker rubbed a finger across the itchy spot next to his nose
again and accepted the small metal cup that was passed to him.
"Thanks."

"What is that?" Reed's question caught him unawares and Tucker looked
up in the middle of sipping his drink.

"huh?"

"You keep rubbing at your face, what's the matter?"

"Oh...it's nothin'. Somethin' bit me is all."

"Something bit you?" Reed's brow creased in a frown, "would you mind
being a little more specific? What kind of something, Trip?"

"I dunno, it had a lot of legs, like a spider." Tucker shuddered
slightly as he remembered the small, spider-like creature that
scuttled up his arm. It had defied all his attempts to brush it off
and crawled onto his face before he managed to slap it to death,
inciting a bite in the process. "It jumped out of a hole in somethin'
I was workin on today," he paused and studied the other man's face for
a moment, reading the concern in darkening gray-blue eyes. "Relax,
Malcolm, you think a little spider bite's gonna bother me that much?"

"We don't know anything about the life forms on this planet, it could
be venomous, dangerous to humans...perhaps we should ask the healer to
come by..."

"C'mon, Malcolm!" Trip shook his head with a smile at his companion's
paranoia. "It happened hours ago and I feel fine!" he rubbed the itchy
spot again. "Just put some o'that goop on it that Phlox left. It'll
probably be gone by mornin'."

Reed sighed, resigned, and nodded "All right," he conceded, "but if
it's not, or if you start to feel at all unwell, we will get the
healer to take a look at you."

"Okay, momma," Trip smiled to take the sting from his tone and glanced
towards the oven. "Is that meatloaf ready yet?"

The meal was eaten quietly, each man occupied with his own thoughts
and not seeing the need for idle conversation. In the months they had
spent on Zilanth, their relationship had fallen into familiar and
comforting patterns; companionable silence was not uncommon. Reed was
naturally reticent anyway, and Tucker tended towards thoughtful
silence as he reviewed the day's work and made plans for what he would
be doing the following day.

Clearing the plates away when the meal was done, Reed took a medical
scanner from the sideboard and turned to Tucker. "Time for your
therapy," he said softly, drawing one of the chairs around the table
so that he could sit in front of the engineer. He reached for Tucker's
right hand and unfastened the leather brace that Tucker wore when he
was not working.

"Squeeze my fingers," Reed instructed by force of habit, both men
already knew the routine of the strengthening exercises, but it gave
him something to say.

Tucker gripped Reed's hand, applying as much pressure as he could, and
noted Reed's slight wince. "They're gettin' better," he remarked,
smiling a little. "Hope I didn't hurt ya too much."

Reed smirked, shaking his head and glanced at Tucker. "Again,"

The therapy proceeded through several exercises in dexterity and after
an hour, Reed nodded his satisfaction. "Good." He set the scanner
aside and began to gently massage the hand, stimulating circulation to
the fingers. "You should be able to decrease the time spent wearing
the brace soon."

"You know...I never said this before but...I appreciate all this."
Tucker met Reed's eyes for an instant and then looked away. "I..." he
licked his lips. "The time ya take doin' this every night, it...I..."

"Nonsense," Reed cut in, "It's no trouble at all; I appreciate your
company."

There was a brief silence as their eyes met. Tucker smiled slightly
and studied the Brit's face for a moment before he leaned in and
quickly brushed his lips across Reed's mouth. It was a quick, tender
and timid kiss and Tucker watched as Reed seemed to freeze for a
moment, their eyes locked to each other for an instant as no one
spoke.

"Uhm..." Reed passed his tongue quickly across his bottom lip and
seemed to fumble for a moment before he quickly strapped the leather
brace onto Tucker's fingers. "I'll...get that salve for your face," he
said, getting to his feet and moving into another room.

Watching him, Tucker muttered a soft curse. {Good one, Tucker,} he
told himself. {Just go and ruin everythin' why don't ya? Y'gotta know
he's not interested in you.} He stared down at his hand despondently,
studying every detail of the brace that now cradled and supported his
fingers. He sighed softly, reminding himself that Malcolm Reed was in
love with Jonathan Archer and that meant that no matter how close he
felt to the man when they worked through his nightly therapy sessions,
it was nothing more than one human being taking care of another. {So
get the romantic notions out of ya thick skull and get on with findin'
a way to get Malcolm and Jon back together.}

"Here we are," Reed, walked into the room carrying a tub of medicinal
salve. Removing the lid, he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I'm glad
this is going to be smeared on your face and not mine," he muttered,
"It smells like something died in here!"

"Malcolm," Trip looked into the younger man's eyes. "I...Ah'm sorry,"
he said softly. "I got...carried away an' Ah...Ah shouldna done that."

"It's all right," Reed told him. "No one was hurt after all." he
smiled slightly and dipped his fingers into the evil smelling gel.
"Come a little closer, would you? I don't want to splatter this
witchery all over the floor."

---

Tucker woke slowly the following morning, rolling over in his bed with
a soft moan. He felt stiff and sore all over, as though he'd slept in
an awkward position. He sighed and forced his eyes open, reaching for
the leather patch to cover his damaged eye . He sat up to adjust it
and winced with a small grunt of pain as his fingers brushed against
the site where the spider had bitten him.

Stumbling to his feet, he made his way slowly to the bathroom and
looked into the mirror. The bite had developed into a small blister
surrounded by an angry looking, purplish ring. Tucker gently probed it
with a finger and hissed out a breath at the resulting stab of pain.
Dammit, he thought. As if it ain't bad enough that I look a wreck with
this eye patch, now I gotta get a zit!

Tucker splashed the place with a little cool water to try and ease the
pain before he moved through to the sleeping area again. Reaching for
a bathrobe he slipped it on and went out into the main living area.

Reed sat at the table drinking a mug of the liquid that passed for tea
on Zilanth. He glanced up as Trip shuffled into the room. His eyes
displayed instant concern as he took in the engineers appearance.

Getting to his feet, Reed was in front of Tucker in an instant. "That
looks nasty," he said placing his fingers to Tucker's chin and
slightly angling the other man's head so he could examine the spot in
the light that filtered through a skylight over the table.

"It's just a spot," Tucker protested, pulling away from the contact.
He didn't trust himself to allow such an intimate touch for too long.
"It's a little sore."

"Spot?" Reed's tone was incredulous. "It's a blister, obviously a
reaction to the spider venom." He paused. "How do you feel?"

"A little achey," Tucker admitted. He eased himself down onto a chair,
"Is there any coffee?"

"Yes." Reed moved to pour Trip a cup and returned to hand it to him,
keeping hold of it until he was sure that the engineer had grasped the
cup firmly.

Seating himself opposite to Tucker, Reed leveled a stern look at the
blond man. "Right, you're going to see the healer. You gave me your
word that you would if you were not feeling well this morning."

Tucker nodded, sipping the hot liquid in his cup. "I'll go on my way
to work," a quick glance at Reed's face and he smiled. "On my word,"
he insisted. "I think I will need somethin' for pain."

"Is it that bad?" Reed stood and fetched the medical scanner from it's
place on the shelf. He pressed a button to activate the device and
moved towards the engineer. As he read the screen, Reed's brow creased
into a small frown. "You're running a slight temp," he reported.
Looking up, his eyes clouded with concern, and he touched Tucker's
neck, running his fingers over the skin. "You're also developing a
rash," His fingers trailed down to the opening at the front of
Tucker's bathrobe, his eyes following the trail of small red spots.

"Malcolm..." Tucker gently caught the dark-haired man's hand and
pushed it away from his skin. Even though he was feeling increasingly
miserable, the contact of those gentle fingers was unsettling to say
the least.

Dark grey-blue eyes blinked a couple of times as Reed seemed to puzzle
over Tucker's reaction for a moment and then comprehension dawned.
"Ah...sorry," he murmured and stood up.

Tucker was almost sorry when Reed moved away to stow the scanner back
in it's customary place.

"I don't think you should go to work today," Reed said firmly.
"Perhaps you'd be better off to go back to bed?"

Tucker shook his head. "I'm all right, Malcolm," he said determinedly.
"I want to go to work...I already said I'll see the healer." he set
his coffee cup down and labored to his feet. "I'll take it easy." He
heard an exasperated sigh from behind him as he made his way towards
the bathroom, but Reed made no attempt to stop him.

Tucker discarded the bathrobe as he attained the privacy of his
bedroom; grimacing at the memory of those gentle fingers trailing over
his skin and coming to rest on his chest, the engineer headed for the
shower. He needed to get a hold of his surging emotions and regain
some kind of equilibrium, and more than that, he needed to get away
from Malcolm Reed for a few hours.

The memory of Reed's lips when Tucker had kissed him, however briefly
the previous night was still a sharp torment, and he needed time to
get things back in perspective.

---

As the late afternoon stretched into evening, Malcolm began to worry
in earnest about Tucker. The engineer had never been later than
sundown in returning from work. He didn't see well enough with his one
eye to walk around after dark.

Reed sighed, pacing to and fro outside the entrance to their home.
Part of him urged that he should go and look for Tucker. Yet another
warned him that it may be a mistake. One of the things he had always
endeavored to do was to allow Tucker to keep his independence as far
as possible.

Reed sighed and peered into the gathering twilight, unconsciously
shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he wrestled with the
question. Finally, as the setting sun slipped below the horizon, Reed
set off in the direction of the Tucker's small workshop. The
engineer's condition when he'd left had not been good, if he had
worsened throughout the day, then. . .  Malcolm muttered a curse and
his stride lengthened into a lope as sudden panic caught at him.

"Trip?" Reed half ran into the workshop, looking around frantically
for the engineer, his mind flitting back to the day he had first
entered this subterranean room. He swallowed hard; Tucker was not in
the workshop. "Trip!" He rushed into the adjoining room and halted
with a gasp as his senses were assaulted by the sour smell of illness.
He stared at the man who lay, sweating and shivering on the small bed.
"Oh God. . . "

Tucker lay on his side, his hair dampened with sweat and plastered to
his head. His clothes were soaked with a combination of perspiration
and vomit. He didn't respond to Malcolm's voice. The tremors that
shook him were so violent that Reed could hear the chattering of his
teeth from where he stood by the door.

"Trip. . . " Reed moved to the side of the bed and put a hand on the
man's brow. His skin felt like fire, burning with fever. Malcolm
smoothed the damp hair back from Tucker's forehead. "Trip, can you
hear me?"

"Cap'n?" Tucker stirred and tried to open his eyes.

"It's Malcolm, Trip. . . "

"Malcolm? What're you doin' here? The Cap'n told ya to stay on the
ship. . . you're violatin' orders, lieutenant."

"I'm sorry, sir. It was. . . necessary." Malcolm shook his head,
gnawing at his lower lip. {I should never have let you out of my
sight!} He gathered the engineer into his arms and lifted him. "Let's
get you out of here."

Tucker struggled a little. "Cold. . . " he said with a shudder. "D'you
think they'll get to us. . .  before the air runs out?"

Malcolm didn't reply as he focused all his attention on carrying the
engineer. Tucker was heavy, a dead weight, but Reed wanted to get him
back to their own dwelling where he was better placed to get him clean
clothes and water. The muscles in his arms were already screaming in
protest but he blocked out the pain and began to walk with dogged
determination.

---

His world was pain. The terrible cold had eased a little, but
throbbing agony coursed through him if he moved so much as an eyelash.
He groaned as he came to full consciousness and passed his tongue
across parched lips.

Gentle hands touched him, raising him a little and elictiing another
small groan of pain from him.

"Here, drink this," a soft, accented voice commanded and a cool
metallic object was pressed against his lips. He sipped slowly and
swallowed, sweet, cool water. He tried to take more but the cup was
removed. "That's enough for now; I don't want you to bring it back."

He was settled back against the pillows and he forced his eyes open.
"What. . . what happened?"

"You're going to be all right," Someone moved beside the bed and
Tucker struggled to focus his blurred vision on the speaker.
"Malcolm?"

A smile and a nod came in answer. "You recognize me. . . That's an
improvement."

Looking around the room, Tucker realized he was back in their home and
he shifted a little in the bed. "How did I get back here? I don't
remember walkin' home."

"You didn't, I. . . carried you." Reed reached for a medical scanner
and ran it over Tucker. "I managed to bring your temperature down
somewhat, and I've given you something for the pain, but. . . " he
frowned and shook his head. "There isn't much else Shondré or I can
do. . . "

"Shondré. . . " Tucker recognized the name of the chief healer. "She
came here?"

"Yes." Malcolm set the scanner aside and gently wiped Tucker's face
with a cool cloth.

"My head hurts like damn," Tucker noted and closed his eyes with a
small sigh.

"You should rest. . . " Malcolm adjusted the covers over the
engineer's body and lowered the light from the lamp at the bedside.

"Sleep sounds nice," Tucker muttered as he drifted into a fitful rest.

Reed sat by Tucker's bed for a few moments longer, watching as the
blond man slept. It was a relief to see him resting so quietly; a
stark contrast to the hours that had gone before.

Wracked by fever and lost in delirium, the engineer had tossed and
raved on the bed, fighting Reed as the younger man struggled to get
him out of his sweat and vomit stained clothing.

Reed slumped down into a chair in the living area and passed a hand
over his face. He was weary, and hungry, but the need for rest
outweighed his stomach's demands for food for the moment. He closed
his eyes and rested his head back against the cushioned head rest.

After a battle to get Tucker bathed and dressed in clean clothing, he
had put through a call for the healer and was relieved when the
reptilian female arrived. Shondré had examined Tucker, confirming the
analysis Reed's own tricorder had given him.

"I don't understand this," the healer told him. "The arachnid Tucker
described does not usually cause this type of reaction, not even when
other off worlders are bitten. It is a harmless cave spider that is
very common on our world."

"Humans are susceptible to a number of arachnid venoms on our planet,"
Reed said softly. "The venom of this spider must be similar." He
frowned. "I don't suppose you have an antivenin?"

Shondré shook her head, obviously not comprehending. "I have never
heard this word," she said. "Ant. . . venin?"

"A counter agent," Reed explained. "Something to offset the affects of 
the poison."

"Ah." Shondré nodded as she grasped the meaning of his words, but then
shrugged. "It has never been needed. Our people are not vulnerable to
insect bites. The best we can hope to do, is keep Tucker comfortable
until the effects of the bite wear off."

Reed sighed softly and got to his feet. Now that Tucker was resting,
he planned to search the medical database that Phlox had left with
them when the Terran Enterprise departed. Perhaps there would be
something in there he could use to help his friend.

---

Reed wakened several hours later, disoriented, and with every nerve
jumping, typical of having been wakened suddenly from a deep sleep. He
rubbed his eyes, sitting up as cramped muscles complained about the
fact that he had fallen asleep hunched over a computer console.

The complaints of his own body were pushed aside when a loud,
shuddering cry emanated from Tucker's bedroom. Reed was on his feet in
an instant and bolting for the room. Something was terribly wrong.

"My eyes!" Tucker cried as Malcolm burst into the room. The engineer
writhed on the bed, hands clamped tightly against his eyes as he
sobbed and moaned in pain. "Help me!"

"Trip!" Malcolm moved to the bedside, quickly grabbing the medical
tricorder and turning it on. "I'm here, what's the matter?"

Tucker didn't appear to hear him.

Reed scanned the engineer and stared at the screen of the tricorder
helplessly, he couldn't make any sense of the readings. Saving them,
he set the device aside to show to Shondré, perhaps she would know
what it meant. He leaned over the bed and caught hold of Tucker's
shoulders. "Trip! Tell me what's wrong? What can I do?"

"My eyes!" Tucker insisted. "Hurts!" He choked on a sob and tried to
twist away from Reed's grasp. "Oh god. . . god! Make it stop!"

"Trip!" Maclolm gripped the engineer's wrists, trying to prize the
man's hands away from his eyes. "Please, you've got to settle down,
you're going to hurt yourself!"

"Shondré!" Tucker cried, fighting against Reed with the strength of a
man possessed. "Call Shondré!"

"I can't call her until you relax, Trip. . . " Reed's voice was edged
with desperation as he fought to pull the clawing fingers away from
Tucker's eyes. With a shake of his head, he put all the command tone
he could muster into his voice. "Commander Tucker, at ease!"

The words reached Tucker on some instinctual level and he immediately
allowed Reed to pull his hands away from his eyes. Reed sighed,
shaken, but glad that the other man had heeded his training. Military,
navy, or Starfleet, every officer was trained to respond to a direct
order. Reed could only breathe a prayer of thanks that it had worked
in this instance. He let go Tucker's wrists, watching the man who was
obviously still in agony, but controlling himself by the force of an
iron will. "I'll call Shondré, he said quietly and turned towards the
door. He didn't like the idea of leaving his friend alone, but he had
no choice, the comms unit was in the living room.

He was brought up short when he found Shondré standing just inside the
door.

"There is no need," the healer said. "I knew he needed me."

"Well, I don't know how you knew, but I'm glad." Reed felt the relief
wash over him as he gestured towards the trembling, sweating man on
the bed. "Please. . . do something for him."

---

"Tucker speaks with his mind," Shondré made her way to Tucker's
bedside as she spoke. Her tone was matter-of-fact, as though her
statement was nothing out of the ordinary. "Healers are receptive to
this."

Raising an eyebrow, Reed glanced at Tucker and then returned his gaze
to the healer who had perched herself on the edge of the bed and
rested one paw on the engineer's chest. Tucker seemed to still
immediately as the reptilian female examined him, absently reaching
for the medical scanner and reading the saved results. Shondré's eyes
narrowed suddenly and she glanced up at Reed. "Do you understand what
this means?"

"No. I was hoping that you. . . "

"Hm!" Shondré bent over her patient again, Reed seemingly forgotten as
she pressed a paw to the blond man's temple, closing her eyes and
muttering to herself in a sibilant undertone.

"He has had a child?" The question was directed at Reed, but her
posture didn't change.

"He was pregnant, but the child was transferred to another."

"Yes." Shondré nodded. "Singular... Most Singular."

Reed gulped as a shiver ran through him at the word, 'singular;' he
passed his tongue over his lips and took a half step away from the
healer as a vague sense of unease overcame him. He frowned, and shook
himself slightly. "What is?" He pushed his uneasy feeling to the back
of his mind. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"He has developed a secondary infection," the healer said, and then
she held up the medical scanner, "There are complications."

"What complications!" Reed felt the mounting exasperation and bit down
hard on the stream of words that threatened to spill over. "Please. .
. tell me what's going on!"

Shondré nodded. Maintaining the contact with her patient that somehow
dulled Tucker's pain, she sighed softly. "This is a very complex
problem, Reed. I am not sure if I can make it comprehensible to you."

Malcolm gritted his teeth, patience wearing thin. "Just. . . tell me,"
he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I am not unfamiliar with
technical concepts." He stopped short of listing his qualifications.
"If there's anything I don't understand, I will ask for
clarification!"

"Very well." Shondré turned to Tucker for a moment, and touched his
temple again, murmuring the Zilanthi word for 'rest' before she looked
to Reed. "To begin. . . " She waved Reed to a chair. "This may take
some time, Reed." Once he was seated, the healer went on.

"Tucker carried his child long enough for the embryo to establish its
own cells within his bloodstream."

"What?" Malcolm glanced from the healer to the man on the bed in
alarm. "Is that. . . "

"It is normal," Shondré said, "Every live bearing female - males also
it would seem, carries such cells from the offspring for a long time,
perhaps a lifetime. But - Tucker's child is not of your species."

"True. The commander was lied to and unwittingly impregnated by a
species that seems to be able to leave its children in a male of any
other species. It was fortunate that we found their ship in time to
return the child to them."

Shondré nodded and glanced at her patient who still lay quietly under
her telepathic Influence. "But this pregnancy left him with something
which may be a blessing, or a curse; I am unable to determine which as
yet."

Reed met the healer's eyes; his own gaze clouded with the rising alarm
that he knew threatened to become full-blown panic. "What?"

"Every life-form carries in its cells, tiny bits of information. . . "

"Genes," Reed supplied.

"Yes. There are a few of these 'genes' which control development in
the embryonic stages. A life form is born with all its organs in the
correct place because of these genes."

"HOX, or homeobox genes," Reed said, recalling the name from biology
classes in his school days. "I think that is what you're referring to?
They control the location of bodily structures, among other things. .
. like a blueprint."

Shondré smiled and nodded. "Exactly."

"All right, I follow you, but what has this to do with Commander
Tucker's illness?"

"Tucker is very ill, Reed. I could cure the secondary infection, it is
a common pathogen to my people, however, there is a grave
complication."

"What? Tell me," Without thinking, Reed was on his feet, face to face
with the healer, leaning over her. He put his hands on her shoulders,
studying her face intently. "Is he going to die?"

Shondré drew in a deep breath, and shook her head slightly. "That may
depend on you, Reed."

"On me? How. . . you need permission for something? YES! Save him,
whatever you have to do, save him!"

"It is not so simple," the healer said. "Your HOX genes are turned
off, as is normal. Until the spider bite, Tucker's were also." Shondré
paced to and fro as she spoke, occasionally glancing at her patient.
"The bacteria causing the infection have somehow acted upon the alien
cells in Tucker's bloodstream like. . . a catalyst I think is your
word for it. . . "

"Doctor! What is happening to Commander Tucker? NOW!" Reed restrained
the urge to shake her, briefly wondering if all doctors everywhere had
this fascination for the dramatic; he could imagine Phlox drawing out
this explanation in the same way.

"Tucker's HOX genes have been reactivated, as far as I can tell in
only two parts of his body. His hand is being repaired of the original
damage and the later surgery. The atrophy you have worked so
diligently to overcome is a mechanical defect and remains untouched.
But that is the least of it. The retina of his damaged eye is. . . 
repairing itself also; a fine new blood supply is forming, along with
the nerve endings he requires in order to receive signals to a strong,
healthy optic nerve."

"You're telling me that Trip's going to see again out of that eye?
Good lord, Doctor! That's hardly bad news, is it? I don't care how it
happens, that's the most wonderful news I've had since we came to this
time forgotten planet!" Reed took a half step towards the bed, his
wonderment clear on his features as he allowed the usual reserved
façade slip. "He's going to see again?"

"Please allow me to finish." The healer's tone brought him up short
and Reed turned to look at her, his elation quickly dissipating as he
noted her grim expression.

"Tucker's eye is at least, partially reforming the retina. Since there
is already a useless one in place, I have no idea how much, if any
usable vision your partner will have at the end of what he must face."

Reed started slightly at her use of the word partner, but he allowed
it to pass in light of the ominous question behind her words. "What he
must face?"

"Yes," another deep sigh from the reptilian female, and this one
seemed to carry the weight of their adopted world on its shoulders.

As his knees buckled under him, Reed sank down on his chair, watching
her face quietly. "What. . . "

"Whilst the damaged retina is at least, partially regrowing, the
nerves of the other eye have become seriously inflamed. The nerves in
this area are closely interrelated; they react sympathetically with
each other. It is how the eyes can focus on two sets of information,
yet translate it into one cohesive whole. . . Because of the
sympathetic reaction, the regrowth is not occurring fast enough to
prevent blindness in both eyes if we do not treat the bacterial
infection now."

"Then there is no question, doctor, you must treat him for pity's
sake! Why even ask me?"

"If I treat him now, the infection will end quickly. Unfortunately, so
will the catalytic reaction. Tucker will be left permanently, totally
blind."

Reed groaned and dropped his head into his hands, suddenly tired and
feeling more hopeless than he had in all the time since the crash of
their shuttlepod on this world. "Nothing, no light, no shadow; Nothing
can be saved?"

"I am sorry, Reed."

"In that case, you can't treat him. . . if there is even a sliver of
hope that he will have some sight. . .  You can't. . . a blind
engineer. . . it would kill him, Doctor."

"And withholding treatment will almost certainly cost him his life.
This infection is similar to your Pneumonia. There is also one other
thing to consider."

"What more could there be?" Reed raised reddened eyes to her face.
"How could this be any bloody worse?"

"Regrowing the retina, surviving the sympathetic inflammation; both
will be agony beyond which I cannot tell if Tucker has endured before.
Your species is strong, and resilient, but I do not know if Tucker can
withstand this. Even if I can somehow keep him alive through the
course of the infection, he may still succumb to shock, and die as a
result of the pain." Shondré glanced at Tucker, and then returned her
gaze to Reed's face. "He is not capable of making this decision
himself. You must decide for him. Would Tucker adjust, should he lose
his vision completely? You are the first humans I have treated; I know
little of your psychology beyond what I have observed of his strength
in surviving the original injuries."

"How long would this process take?"

"I estimate three days. Although I have never actually seen a case in
which three alien biologies synergize and catalyze each other to such
a bizarre end."

Reed nodded. "Do it."

"You must know, that this infection untreated and in his current
state, will in all likelihood, kill him within two."

"Hobson's choice. . . " Reed muttered. "Damned if I do, and damned if
I don't." He fell silent, completely unable to process the situation
any longer and began to grasp at straws. "Can't you sedate him?
Whatever you've done now, seems to work well. . . he's resting, quiet.
. . why can't you continue to do that?"

"I have applied a light telepathic restraint to him," Shondré replied.
"This works because he is receptive on some level to telepathic
influence; however, he is not strong enough to cope with constant
telepathic activity. On top of everything else, the strain on his mind
may send him further into shock or cause irreparable neurological
damage, no Reed; the risk is too great to him."

"What about the drugs Phlox left? We know they are safe for humans!"

"And every one of them would slow his metabolism to the point where
the reaction will be impaired, perhaps ceasing entirely. We must allow
the process to continue as uninterrupted as possible."

Reed could sit still no longer. He got to his feet, pacing the length
of the small room. "So you're telling me that you can cure him, but
he'll be helpless for the rest of his life; unable to work, unable to
see, unable to read, or even walk across a bloody room without
someone's aid? What kind of a life is that for him? His work is his
life, Shondré! His engines. . . I can't be responsible for him losing
that forever!"

"So you choose not to treat him, Reed?"

"How can I choose that either?" Reed's tone was becoming frantic. "You
treat him and he has the rest of his life to hate me for deliberately
blinding him! Fail to treat him and he most likely dies when his heart
or lungs give out from infection or shock! What kind of bloody choice
is that to ask one human being to make for another? I don't know what
he would choose! What if I decide and I am wrong? A life without his
eyes or no life at all after enduring the torment of the damned?"

By now his pacing was taking on the aspect of flight, as though Reed
sought to escape from the room, from the decision he must make.
Finally he stopped and his shoulders drooped in defeat. "Treat him.
Give him the medicine. God help me, I can't lose the only person I
have left from my world to a bloody spider bite!"

He hated himself for the choice he made, even as the words passed his
lips and yet there was a part of him that could not bear the thought
of losing Tucker, the only other human being on this planet, and the
only other being in this entire universe with whom he shared, not only
a common destiny but a common past. Tucker was the only other being
anywhere that really knew him. To lose that, Reed knew would be to
lose a part of himself that he could never hope to regain.

A selfish choice? Reed shook his head. Perhaps it was selfish; all
Reed knew was that he could not survive this world, this universe
alone. With a deep shuddering sigh, he turned to look at Tucker who
stirred slightly as the effects of whatever the healer had done began
to wear off.

Tucker slowly rolled his head from side to side, groaning softly as
the lines of pain re-etched themselves onto his face. He sobbed
quietly and spoke almost in an undertone. "Gonna get us out of here,
Malcolm. Gonna get through this. I'll get well, I'll get my hand
workin' again and we. . . we'll get home. . . back to Starfleet. . .
back to my engines. . . If I die tryin' I'll get us back, Mal. . . I
promise ya."

Reed shuddered at those words, the grim determination and force with
which they were spoken in spite of the pain he knew Tucker must be in.
He looked at Shondré. "To do that, he will need to see. . . he will
need both eyes and a fully working hand. . . " Reed bit his lip in
thought. "I. . . can't deny him that chance, Doctor." He swallowed
hard. "Tell me what I can do to help him through this?"

Shondré got to her feet slowly, watching Tucker with eyes that shone
with some indefinable emotion. After a moment, she turned to Reed.

"He is going to suffer great agony." She laid a hand on his arm as she
spoke and leaned closer, her eyes locked with his. "You have seen
already what it is like for him. He will try to stop the pain in any
manner he can find. I suggest that before he becomes uncontrollable we
restrain him, Reed. It will be better that way."

Reed swallowed past a lump in his throat and nodded slightly. "All
right," he said simply. He glanced towards Tucker who was becoming
increasingly agitated as his mind returned to consciousness and pain.
"All right."

---

Malcolm awoke in Tucker's darkened bedroom, not remembering the date
or time of day, too exhausted to care. When had he switched to the big
rocking chair? Oh, the second night, he did remember that much; the
one during which the blond engineer had alternated between coughing up
things Malcolm fervently desired never again to be anywhere near and
endlessly calling for the newborn daughter he had never held even in
fevered dreams.

At least it was quiet now; he must've screamed himself unconscious
again. Probably time to start more hand exercises; Reed had kept
himself sane through much of the time by continuing the stretching
routines. If Tucker survived - WHEN Tucker survived - it would not be
with further atrophy of the hand to overcome even if the underlying
neurological damage could somehow be remedied by those temporarily
confused HOX genes in his fingers. He couldn't remember the last time
Tucker had been this quiet for more than a very few minutes.

*Too* quiet, he realized with a horrible start, launching himself with
the last of his strength toward the bed even before he realized Tucker
was completely still on it, face peaceful, chest unmoving. Please,
God, no! I thought you'd let me keep him! All that suffering for
naught, all the loneliness to come -

"HACCHHHHHH!!!" He had just time enough to grab the enameled pan which
had served him so well before the 'corpse' let fly with something
decidedly less near-sentient than he had the last time he cleared his
clogged windpipe. No more blood! Reed exulted as he wiped the stubbled
face clean; once again grateful for the medicine he'd received to
prevent his contracting Tucker's lung infection.

Even Tucker's breath was improved, no less fetid to Reed's
by-now-bludgeoned sensibilities - he was only now, when he would
probably never see her again, fully cognizant of T'Pol's fortitude in
enduring the limits of human stench -- but now that same breath was
being taken in and let out with ease and steadiness approaching
normalcy. The death-rales of Malcolm's recent memory were replaced by
- *snoring*, loud, beautiful Tuckerish snoring.

The medical scanner confirmed his assessment. "He's SLEEPING! God,
thank you! It's just sleep and his temperature is nearly normal!" He
realized he was speaking out loud, as he had done almost continually
to the dying man for the past three nights and two days, when the
snores were truncated by an exasperated whistling *snerk* out his
patient's nose.

"He *was* sleepin'! Son of a BITCH, do ya have to make so much damn
noise? Mah head feels like I got one a' yer phase cannons goin' off in
it! What th' HELL was I *drinkin'* last night, anyway?"

Those hoarsely rasped complaints, a bit slurred from exhaustion, were
the sweetest sounds Malcolm had had the pleasure to hear since the
shuttle crash eighteen months earlier. Their speaker now struggled
against his bonds with annoyance instead of mindless agony. "Trip! Are
you in pain? Are you alright?" He had to be sure before he freed him.

"Of *course* I'm alright! Get me the hell outta this, Malcolm! DAMN,
we finally did it! Never figured y' fer a restraints-on-th'-first-date
guy. Hope you had fun - hope *I* had fun, 'cause Ah don' remember one
damn thing. An' I need to go to the bathroom! RIGHT NOW!"

"Malcolm!" Tucker's speech became louder and faster as need overrode
headache, "whatever th' safe word is, I don' remember it, but it's
"phase cannons" if Ah know you, an' if you don' git me outta these
bonds, Ah'm gonna do somethin' to these nice soft sheets Ah haven'
done since before Ah could READ! AN' YER CLEANIN' IT UP!"

He undid the rope around Tucker's chest and reached for the
thigh-level rope around the bed which was threaded through the
carefully-padded circlets around Tucker's wrists, placed at Shondré's
suggestion so he could be pushed to a sitting position when the
coughing or vomiting resumed. "Oh, it was phase . . . ." Malcolm's
attempted levity trailed off, the man lost for words, surprised that
he had started to joke about anything after the last three days, and
suddenly greatly heartened that Tucker, after all that had happened to
him in those same three days, was already showing his normal good
humor.

"OH, Malcolm, NOW!"

Reed knew by that tone he'd never unfasten the rope in time. "Not in
time -- can you use a pan?" He just hoped he wasn't asking Tucker a
"poop question," as the man had so eloquently coined that phrase to
the crew's great mirth.

"ANYTHING!"

"Touching, *now* and you're fine," Malcolm leaned to his work,
surprised how much free fluid could still leave the semi-dehydrated
body for that now thoroughly befouled enamel pan, how bad the
metabolites of three species could make it smell and how natural
caring for Tucker's intimate needs had become after only three days of
hell. When finished cleaning him, he came closer to Tucker's face.
"I'm untying you now, only take a minute longer."

"Malcolm, just take the damn blindfold off. Can't see a thing!"

Those words struck terror in Reed's heart. My God, help me, he thought
wildly. What if it's all been for nothing? He looked up to see Shondré
standing quietly next to him. "He called me," the Chief Healer
answered Malcolm's expression.

"Even completely back in this world, his mind is more powerful than
you would think. This must be investigated, Reed. Most singular." She
bent over her recovering patient, feeling the other man's breathing
tube close for a dizzying moment of bewildering emotional pain as
surely as if it were occluded with the matter that nearly took his
companion's life, pain shorted out only by the realization that Tucker
had turned his face to Shondré even before she had opened her mouth or
come near him.

"How are you, Tucker?" Her paw stroked his cheek gently and he became
still. "You've been very ill. Do you remember? Reed has taken most
excellent care of you for nearly three days. You would have died
without it. Do you remember?" Her steady speech covered the quick
physical inspection; his nearly clear lungs, fading rash and healing
spider-bite blister told her his body was well on its way back.

"Th' spider bite. Shondré, this ain't no fun-time blindfold, is it?
I'm startin' t' remember, ahh, Malcolm, Ah'm so sorry Ah said what Ah
did. Sick, felt like pneumonia comin' on. You leaned over th' bed in
mah workshop,"

"An infection set in, easily curable but for something unique to your
body. It complicated matters. You were dying, and Reed had to make a
choice for your treatment."

"What complication? What happened to me?"

"Doctor, do something!" Reed feared a full-blown panic when they
broached the subject he most dreaded.

Shondré placed a paw on each of her patient's shoulders. "Tucker,
listen calmly."

"I don' know about that! Think it's my eyes, Shondré. What happened to
my eyes? Malcolm, they've gotta be bandages, right? Am I blind? Is
that it? Did the other one go too, Malcolm? TELL ME!" He fairly
shrieked the last as Reed finished untying the rope at Shondré's
emphatic gesture, newly-freed hands flying to his bandages.

"Stop, Tucker, we do not know and we will find out together and face
it." His hands immediately stilled their wild clawing as her paws
rested against them. "Now, you will tightly close both eyes, we will
dim the lights even further and I will remove one side at a time.
Reed?" He had already moved to the lantern, ensuring even less light
reached the bed. "Good. Now, Tucker, there is no reason to think the
worst until we must; let us determine what is truly happening." She
undermined the covering on the good eye, lifting it gently as she
advised him again to keep both tightly closed.

"Now, Tucker, open the eye VERY slowly. The light is low so do not be
afraid of the darkness."

"Malcolm, come HERE! Want to see you first! Malcolm, y' look like
someone chased ya through Grandma's root cellar fer three days. What
happened?"

"You did, Trip. I nearly lost you," Malcolm chuckled.

"Oh, y' look so tired! But I c'n SEE you!" Reed was captivated by the
joyous grin seeming to illuminate the small room far beyond any
lantern's abilities. It warmed his entire existence with the glow of
light and promise. No matter what, he knew Tucker would not, as he had
dreaded and cursed himself for over and over again, be blind.

"Ok, Malcolm, how d'I look?" Reed thought carefully, and then decided
the truth was as good as anything to a man who would easily detect
platitudes and worry about them.

"Wild haired, rash-ridden, scabby-faced, skin and bones and
semi-demented. The only thing you need is one of those god-awful
floral shirts and we'd all run screaming into the night. Or day,
whichever it happens to be at this moment."

"Well, thank you, Malcolm!" For some completely unfathomable reason,
which he had been counting on when he opened his mouth, Reed's insults
seemed to be a source of great pride to the recovering man. He'd never
understand Yanks. Of course, he'd probably never again have the
opportunity to expand his database.

"Excellent," Shondré pronounced after replacing the bandage under
protest. "Now the other side."

"Uh, Shondré, that eye hasn't worked in way over a year, remember?"
Tucker was genuinely confused, and Reed's breath caught as he realized
the other moment he'd been dreading was at hand.

"Close your eyes. A thorough examination needs to *be* thorough," she
said with a gentleness in her voice that immediately placated Tucker
and made Reed wonder how much of their communication was going on in
the same place which made it possible for her to arrive uncalled
except for a patient's silent cries. He couldn't follow it but,
grateful anyway, turned to watch her remove the bandage on the other
side.

"Open the eye very slowly, Tucker. Tell me if all is as usual."

"Uh, yeah. Just the same," he replied in a completely normal tone.

The breath came out of Reed's lungs as if he had been punched.
Whatever the Xyrillian woman and Zilanthin spider had left inside
Tucker's body to fight that desperate battle had obviously failed -
the eye was still completely nonfunctional.

The brilliant engineer would find a way to return them to their proper
universe, of that Malcolm Reed had no doubt. But it would be a
universe without Tucker's greatest joy, without the one thing he
craved above all other.

Without that eye, it would be a universe without Starfleet.

"Reed!" Shondré's voice broke through his sorrow. "Help Tucker to the
bathroom."

"Do you think he can? He's been..."

"I GOTTA, Malcolm!"

"Help him up quickly." The reptilian female stepped back to allow the
human maneuvering room. His fears that Tucker would fall after several
days in bed were to his great surprise unfounded as they made their
way to the bathroom in near-record time.

When his companion was safely enthroned, Malcolm answered Shondré's
call. "He's fine. I'll stay and make sure he doesn't fall," he said
airily, ignoring Tucker's blushing protest; at this point it no longer
mattered. "That was for the doctor's benefit, or you might have her in
here too."

"Awww, Malcolm, I'm sorry you had to get me here."

"Tch, any military officer has been around far worse. Just who do you
think kept you tidy, anyway, Mr. Tucker?"

"Mr. Tucker? Now I KNOW ah've been sick," he chuckled at the use of
the abandoned rank. "Tidy, huh. Why do I think that doesn't even begin
to tell th' story?"

Reed sighed. "Because it doesn't. I have never seen someone so
violently ill in my life, said military career included. I was sure
you were going to die and I would be bereft of my only friend. Only
fear, determination and your healer friend Shondré kept me going."

"Malcolm," he nearly whispered, "She's a friend to both of us, an' you
need to make more friends th' way I have. I'll do mah level best to
get us back, but let's face it, we might never be lucky that way. Th'
Zilanthi're good people, we were damn fortunate. We were damn
fortunate in everything. I wound up with them, and you wound up in
some house where you were a servant, y' said? Then y' found yer way to
th' Terrans an' back t' me. What were the odds on all that?"

He'd never exactly lied to Tucker about his place in the Consulate,
about why he still stumbled over the occasional word, just never quite
spelled it out. Perhaps some day, perhaps if some further relationship
were to demand physical initiation he'd be required to go there again
in his mind, but not while it was still so fresh and raw. Thankfully,
there would now be time for that later.

The patient, after having insisted on stopping to brush his teeth, was
quickly back in bed; this time Malcolm's so his could be aired and
changed. A small cup of warm soup and some bread waited for him on the
night table, with a quick explanation of what had gone on in his body
as he ate it, including the news he took much better than Reed would
have expected, the news of the failed regrowth for which the torment
had been endured.

"How do you feel, Tucker?" Shondré had a peculiar expression; Tucker
with his year's head start had always been much better at reading
Zilanthi faces than he had, though not for lack of trying.

Tucker looked around; he was finally lying in Malcolm Reed's bed, and
he just wished it meant something besides airing out his own. "Much
better."

"Good. I am sorry for the pain, Tucker."

"I don't remember any pain, Shondré - don' be sorry. That's -" Reed
gasped in breath as he saw her paws coming up to the blond head and
realized what was going to happen.

" - OWWWWWWW!" Reed's heart actually skipped a beat with the burst of
adrenaline at seeing his friend with head nearly in his own lap,
shrieking louder and louder, clutching at the bandages as the healer
muttered in Zilanthi, her face nearly a reptilian mirror of his for
one startling moment as Tucker began to mutter the same thing she did.
. "NOW, Reed," she yelled over the screams - oh, more screams, he'd
thought they were over for good -"Get an anodyne of your doctor's and
do not worry. His eye is beginning to come alive, I should think..."

Malcolm fairly scrambled over the bed to the living-room medicine
cabinet, returning with the drug box. "Which one?"

"The strongest. Tucker, listen to me," she sat next to her patient and
ran both paws over his forehead as Reed slapped the hypospray over the
correct vessel in his friend's neck.

"Reed is giving you something for this pain. It's normal; it means the
eye is beginning to work. What do you see?"

"See?" Reed puzzled; the damaged eye was still bandaged.

"Shondré! Malcolm! There're lights burstin' on and off! Colors
apoppin'! Fireworks! I'm seein' lights!" Shondré leaned over and very
slowly peeled up the bandage over his damaged eye. Now, tell me, do
you see anything?"

Malcolm Reed, toughened old soldier, felt a tear slip down each cheek
as his friend tracked her moving arm with the one uncovered eye, the
one that until thirty seconds ago had been useless.

"There's somethin' there with th' lights, like it's real foggy, can't
tell what; think it's your arm or somethin'. It's like it was always
there but I just figured out what to DO! But it's THERE, isn't it? I'm
not dreamin' it? Malcolm, it's real, right?"

He reached out again and Malcolm found himself in the warmest embrace
he could have ever imagined, stronger by the minute and filled with
hope. "It's comin' back! Am I gettin' mah eye back? It ain't a dream,
huh?" He and Reed were nearly jumping up and down on the side of the
bed in sheer joy.

"Shondré, what did you do? His eye was useless. . . "

"What needed to be done. Tucker's healthy and useful new nerves could
not work because his adult's brain had no idea how to process their
signals instead of trying to make a fatally-damaged retina speak. I
merely showed it how." She returned her attention to Tucker.

"Understand, you may never get more vision than this - I have no way
of knowing how well the gap can be bridged in an adult despite the
health of the new tissue. But the eye is even with that tissue
structurally sound, and with this much vision alone, there may be
something Starfleet can do for you by the time you possibly leave us
some day for your original home.

"I must tell you, though, I could not have shown Reed's human brain
anything. Tucker, perhaps because of the pregnancy, perhaps because of
some inherent difference to Reed which I cannot detect having met so
few humans in my life, there is something in you which calls out to be
spoken to. This truly must be addressed when you are stronger."

"Anything," he replied gratefully and took her paw with his damaged
hand. "Malcolm, look!" The fingers wiggled in the air, not quite
possessing the full range of motion they might one day with diligent
therapy, but more purposefully and much, much faster than before.
"Another miracle."

Reed leaned into the waiting arms and found himself in a
rapidly-tiring yet determined embrace that touched his deepest heart
far more than he could have dreamed less than a week ago. Before he
realized what was happening, he was kissing Tucker, lips pressed
tightly to that sweetest of mouths forgetting that just a scant year
and a half ago, this would have been the least desired place to be.
Forgetting, for now, the trials he had faced and escaped from on
Clinarin II. They no longer quite mattered anywhere near as much as
before, the Captain's bed denied or the career and former universe
lost; those bright eyes shining at him when the castaways came up for
air gleamed with all the promise in this or any other world.

Not a poor substitute for those of a man who in all probability had
never given his Armory Officer one thought more than absolutely
necessary, these eyes, but rather one part of a man with the courage
to survive and the love to keep reaching out against the odds. These
eyes were an avatar of good times shared and fires braved together,
signposts to the warm and happy future which could be his if he but
dared reach out for it as he had reached out for a blond engineer not
two minutes before.

Malcolm Reed would never be lonely again with these particular eyes in
his personal universe.

---

The End