The BLTS Archive - In My Arms by Marie Whi Mitshue (DriftingPetal@gundamwing.org) --- Archive: Entslash, go right ahead. Anyone else, ask first, please. Disclaimer: Paramount owns the STAR TREK universe, I’m just playing with’em! Comments: Some angst. Me like angst. This is written in first person (which I don't normally write in), from Trip's POV. Beta reader(s): C-chan Archived to the Web site on 07/01/2002. Archived at EntSTCommunity with the author's express permission. --- The shot comes out of nowhere. A heavy weight slams into me, throwing me sideways and knocking me to the ground. My head bounces off of a large rock and starbursts of pain and light explode inside my head. A flash of orangish-red light and the familiar sound of a phase pistol firing informs my rather confused, aching and disoriented mind that someone--Malcolm, I'd bet--is returning fire with whoever is shooting at us. Someone grabs me and throws me bodily in through the shuttlepod's open hatch. I hit the deck hard, and sluggishly pull myself half up against the support of a chair. I blink bleary eyes at the bright square of the open hatch, barely seeing the greenish-blue sky and fluffy clouds beyond. Next time Johnny decides he wants to go stretch his legs on a planet, he'd better leave me behind, I decide, blinking hazily. Something warm and wet is edging down the side of my face and neck, so I figure that in the duel between my hard head and the rock, the rock won. Malcolm is framed in the hatchway, a dark silhouette against the bright alien sky beyond him. Suddenly, his body jerks and shudders, a choked cry torn from him as a spray of blood mists in the air. He tumbles into the shuttlepod, and the captain's hands reach past Malcolm's sprawled body to slam the hatch closed. He darts to the helm, casting worried glances at me and Malcolm, and lifts the shuttlepod from alien soil. I shakily crawl towards Malcolm. Pain thunders in my head, nausea coils in my gut, and my vision is blurred and jumpy, but I can still see the blood pooling around him, and the huge, blackened, raw wound gaping across his lower back. I lift him up, panic, despair, grief and guilt pounding through me with all the force of a tornado. He lies in my arms, so still, so limp and his blood coats my hands, thick and warm. "Malcolm!" His name bursts from my lips in a despairing, trembling cry, fuelled by emotions I hadn't been aware of, weren't even aware of until now, with him dying in my arms. Only now do I realise what I feel for him, what I'd kept hidden from even myself. Only now, when he lies bleeding to death in my arms... "Don't you dare die on me, Mal!" I taste wet saltiness on my lips, and realise I am crying. Malcolm's eyes flutter open, pupils dilated with shock, almost swallowing up completely the grey-blue of his irises. "T...Trip?" He coughs out, gagging and choking on blood. Scarlet stains his mouth, and more blood oozes down his chin, painting an obscene scarlet line on his pale skin. Too pale, even for him. "Yeah, I'm here." I sob. He blinks and lifts a trembling, bloodied hand. His fingertips skim over my cheek, trailing though the tears pouring down my face. His hand drops, strength spent, and it lands on my thigh, like a wounded bird falling from the sky. "You're...crying...?" He asks weakly. "For...me...?" I shake my head, swallowing hard at the nausea and dizziness that provokes. When it subsides, I dip my head to wipe my tears off against my shoulder. That does nothing to get rid of the tears welling in my eyes, however. "No, I'm not, 'cause you're gonna be alright!" I tell him, as firmly as I can. My voice doesn't co-operate in my attempt to reassure the man dying in my arms; it remains a quavering, fearful whisper. The corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny, infinitely sad smile, and a single tear falls from the corner of one eye to slide down his cheek, glitteringly bright for an instant as it catches the light. "No." He whispers calmly. "I'm not." "Malcolm..." I whimper. "Trip..." He is gasping to breathe now, his hand clutching weakly at my leg. Agony, deep and terrible, flits across his face, making him moan hoarsely. "We're almost home!" Archer calls sharply from the helm, "Hang on, Malcolm. That's an order!" I glance up to see ENTERPRISE's launch bay doors opening for us. I've never seen a more beautiful sight in all my life than those doors swinging open. "Hold on, Mal!" I tell him as I look back down. He's sobbing in pain and I hold him closer, feeling his blood soaking through my uniform, all the way to my skin. His head is pillowed against my upper arm, and he smiles faintly again. What he could have to smile about, I sure don't know! "Malcolm?" "If...I have to...die " He wheezes, more blood spilling from his lips, and I interrupt him, voice hysterical. "You're NOT gonna die, dammit!" He continues to force out his words, ignoring my outburst. "Then... in your arms...is where...I should be..." I gape, speechless, and his pain-dulled, shock-dark eyes meet mine. The emotion visible in those eyes, ghosting behind the pain and shock, is overwhelming. "Love you, Trip..." He chokes out. Agony overtakes him, shuddering through him, and his body writhes and twists in my arms. Then he stiffens against me with a low, hoarse, anguished cry that will haunt me forever. The shuttlepod lurches slightly and the hatch flies open, Phlox and a medteam waiting anxiously there. But it is too late. Malcolm Reed lies dead in my arms, dark head lolling limply against my shoulder, eyes staring sightlessly, dull and lifeless, past me. One hand trails on the deck, the other still on my thigh, and his slim chest is unmoving, the pulse at his throat stilled. I close his eyes with shaking fingers, fingers stained with his blood. I lower my head to bury my face against his dark hair, as I brokenly sob the words he'll never hear, the words I have only just realised. And the extent of what I have lost, here in my arms, never known, never shared, gone forever, breaks over me with tidal wave intensity. "I love you, too." --- The End