Deimos

And there [depicted on the shield of Akhilleus] were man-devouring wars, and all horrors of fight …Phobos (Panic) was there, and Deimos (Dread), and ghastly Enyo with limbs all gore-bespattered hideously, and deadly Eris (Strife). —Quintus Smyrnaeus 5.25

Beside them raged the ruthless-hearted Keres (Fates) fiercely: here Phobos (Panic-fear) and Ares there stirred up the hosts: hard after followed Deimos (Dread-terror) with slaughter's gore besprent, that in one host might men see, and be strong, in the other fear. —Quintus Smyrnaeus 11.7

He tried to swim to the surface, but he was so damn cold. His chest hurt. His lungs burned. His throat was raw. A steady muted drone was all he could hear. He tried to break through the darkness, flailing toward the light.

Trip sat up straighter in his chair by Malcolm's biobed. He'd been watching Malcolm, watching the frantic REM movements, those long black lashes concealing the blue-grey eyes Trip had thought he'd never see again. Trip saw his lover move his hands, those slender and talented fingers twitching. He leaned forward over Malcolm, touching him, stroking his head. "Come on, Mal. Wake up."

The light was bright and he swam toward it.

He couldn't breathe. He shouldn't breathe. He'd die if he breathed. The irony struck him and he laughed, watching the lazy bubbles surround him. He swam harder, lungs aching, head buzzing.

"Malcolm. Come on darlin'. Open your eyes."

He made it so close to the surface but was stopped by a barrier, centimeters from the light. His heart pounded in his ears and he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He exhaled, the bubbles churning about him. And then…

And then cold. Choking, unable to stop, forcing it out again, only to draw more icy water into his mouth, down his lungs. He threw up, only to suck it back down, surrounding by water, nothing else to pull in. All he could hear was his heartbeat and the light faded.

He sank back into the dark where it was peaceful. Calm and hushed. Panic and terror gone. His grandfather whispered in his ear. "See? Nothing to fear…"

***

Dr. Phlox saw Trip's worried and disappointed look when Malcolm didn't respond to his lover's entreaties.

"Commander."

Trip looked up at him.

"There is nothing to be concerned about, Commander. This is not unusual. He'll wake when he's ready. His body has gone through quite a bit of stress and needs to recuperate."

Quite a bit of stress, Phlox thought. He had spent nearly two hours trying to resuscitate the Lieutenant after retrieving, aware that the mammalian diving reflex in humans was strongest in frigid water. He hadn't wavered in his prolonged efforts, knowing that it was not an uncommon length of time. The intubation and continuous mechanical ventilation and the treatment for hypothermia came first in the attempt to revive him.

Then corticosteroids and antibiotics to treat the aspiration pneumonitis, drugs to prevent airway spasms, the transfusion to replace the destroyed red blood cells from the freshwater inhalation, and the intravenous solutions to help restore the chemical balance of the blood. Then more drugs to keep him sedated and pain free so his body could recover.

Phlox checked the monitors, thinking that Mr. Reed was lucky it hadn't been saltwater. That was a more painful way to die, and the damage to lung tissue worse. He looked at the man lying on the biobed, saw Commander Tucker's fingers laced through the Lieutenant's slack ones, then examined the still worried and tender expression on the Commander's face.

Phlox thought that Mr. Reed was lucky in more ways than one.

***

Phlox released Trip from sickbay, ordering him to rest in his room. He had let Trip stay a day longer than necessary already. He assured him that as soon as Malcolm woke, he'd let him know.

Trip shuffled along the corridor, head down and aimless. He felt too unsettled to sleep and he wasn't hungry. He didn't want to go to his empty quarters, realizing again just how empty they could have been, permanently.

Jon had told him that the venom from the bite had almost killed him. He shivered as he thought of that ugly critter Phlox had stuck on him to clear the toxin. Nearly dying had been more pleasant.

Except for the part where he watched Malcolm drown.

Trip shuddered again and leaned against a bulkhead. He kept his eyes open, not wanting to close them and see again that struggle Malcolm had gone through.

He was so grateful that they both survived.

He pushed himself off the wall, and started to walk again. Jon rounded a corner and stopped.

"Trip! Just coming to see you. Phlox released you?"

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

Trip saw the concern in his best friend's eyes. It touched him. He'd taken that for granted.

"I'm okay. Mal's gonna be fine too, if he ever wakes up…"

Jon put a comforting arm around Trip's shoulder. "Phlox assures me he'll come around when he's ready." He hugged Trip and pulled him forward. "Come on. Let's feed you and get you to bed."

Trip allowed himself to be led to the messhall. No one was there at this hour and Jon fixed him a plate. They sat down and Trip began to talk.

***

Malcolm found himself standing at the foot of his grandfather's bed. His grandfather was propped against several pillows, reading a book, dressed in a nightgown and night cap. Straight out of Dickens. Straight out of "A Christmas Carol", that first book his grandfather had ever read to him.

His grandfather looked up and smiled at him.

"So. I told you there was nothing to be afraid of. Once you stopped panicking, it was rather peaceful, wasn't it?"

He looked down at his feet and nodded, ashamed of his fear and terror.

"Here now, don't feel bad, my dear boy. Anyone would have felt exactly the same. The act of dying isn't easy, you know."

He looked up and his grandfather winked at him.

"I remembered everything. Every conversation I ever had. Every person I ever met. Every mistake I ever made, everyone I ever hurt, every horrid thing I ever did…"

"Every good you did? Every person who you helped? Everything you did right? Every person you ever loved?"

Malcolm nodded slowly, remembering fragments.

"And did the good outweigh the bad?"

He thought for a moment. He nodded again.

"Then you must be doing something right, my boy. Go on now. Go find the light." His grandfather started to read again.

"Am I dead?"

His grandfather looked up and smiled at him. "Go find out."

***

He swam to the surface, looking for the light and burst through. His eyes fluttered open and he stilled, trying to focus. There was a steady droning. He was neither warm nor cold. The light was dim. He inhaled, vaguely thinking his lungs were sore, his chest feeling as if he'd been kicked. It didn't bother him though, they didn't feel as if they belonged to him. He swallowed, and noted absently that his throat felt dry and tender.

Sickbay. The drone of monitors, the small sounds of Phlox's menagerie. Of course sickbay.

He sat up, floating and feeling disconnected, waiting for the fog in his head to clear. It didn't. He slid off the biobed anyway. He tried to steady himself, contemplating his bare toes, the long, baggy drawstring pants nearly covering his feet. One size does not fit all, he thought to himself as he hitched them up and re-tied them tighter in a sloppy sailor's knot.

He tried to call out, but he couldn't make a sound. He looked for Trip, but there was no one else in the room.

He stared at his hands, then rubbed his bare arms. He was numb and thought that was interesting. He found his legs and glided out the door.

He was fairly sure he was dead.

***

He looked back, thinking how he had practically lived in sickbay. No wonder he was doomed to haunt it. He drifted down the corridor.

He felt quite pleasant, really, in a detached, unreal sort of way. He wandered the corridors, meeting no one, his bare feet making no sound.

Two crewmen, deep in conversation, passed through the juncture in front of him, not seeing him.

Malcolm watched them, faintly amused. The living rarely see the dead.

He continued, destination in mind.

***

He stood at the foot of his lover's bed, watching him sleep. He spoke his name, but all that came out was a ghostly whisper.

How appropriate, he thought.

He moved without effort into Trip's bed, and laid down beside him. Trip continued to sleep.

He snuggled in closer, as he used to, when he was alive. He missed this closeness and warmth already. He laid his head next to Trip's and looked at him, studying his face. He reached out a finger, lightly tracing his lips, his spectral touch sketching over them. Malcolm leaned forward and kissed him, heart aching.

He loved him so much. And he had been loved so much.

He felt phantom tears sting his eyes, the pain of what he would miss causing him to swallow hard. He lowered his head onto Trip's chest, feeling the warmth, listening to his heartbeat. He wrapped one arm around him, hugging him close.

He never told Trip that he loved him often enough.

He closed his eyes, floating and drifting, the motion of Trip's chest rising and falling in a slow steady pattern lulling him, rocking him, cradling him like a boat rolling on the gentle swells of a calm sea.

He let himself drift away, holding his beloved.

***

The comm woke Trip and he sat up with a snort. He scrubbed a hand across his face and rose. He answered the hail.

"Commander, have you seen Lieutenant Reed?" Phlox's agitated tone assailed him.

"What? Did you lose him?" he asked, his voice rising.

"He must have wandered out of sickbay, and he's not in his quarters." Phlox sounded quite upset.

A rustling sound caught Trip's ear and he looked at his bunk.

Malcolm was turning over, Trip's pillow in his arms. He curled up into a tight little ball, hugging the pillow.

Trip lowered his voice. "Don't worry Doc. I found him. He's here and he's sleeping. Want me to take him back to sickbay?"

"No, let him sleep, Commander. It's the best thing for him. He's probably still got quite a system full of medications, so call me if he seems to be in any distress…"

"'Kay. Tucker out."

Trip returned to his bunk and reclined next to Malcolm. Malcolm stirred again, rolling onto his stomach and flinging an arm out. It landed on Trip's lap.

Trip removed his pillow from Malcolm's grasp and placed it under his head, careful not to disturb Malcolm's arm.

Malcolm nestled in close to Trip, arm tightening around him. Trip smiled and stroked his lover's hair, running his fingers through it.

Malcolm sighed.

"Hey. Wake up." Trip couldn't help himself. Malcolm was alive and warm, and in his bed. He thought his heart would burst with joy.

Trip continued to pester his lover.

Eventually glazed grey-blue eyes peered up to meet bright blue ones. Trip ran a gentle hand down the side of Malcolm's face, feeling the coarse stubble.

Malcolm blinked slowly. "Am I dead?" he whispered, barely audible.

"What? No, no, darlin', you're not dead…" Trip scooted down and kissed him, holding him and caressing his back. "You're alive."

Malcolm looked at him, and Trip saw too many emotions going through those glassy eyes.

"I thought I was dead…I…I thought I'd never see you again…" Trip could hear the hoarseness of his voice.

"Shhh…you're alive Malcolm. You're fine. Everything's okay." Trip stroked him, trying to soothe him.

Malcolm closed his eyes and pressed his face into Trip's neck. Trip rocked him, speaking quiet words of reassurance and love.

Trip held him for a long time, caressing him, speaking softly, until he felt Malcolm relax. He pulled back and Malcolm looked at him, eyes murky and drowsy. Trip gazed into those eyes, studying the colors he had always loved, rejoicing that his lover was alive.

"I love you, Trip."

"I love you too, Malcolm."

"I died."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry you had to watch that."

Trip hugged him tight. Malcolm clung to him, and then yawned.

"I'm tired."

"Go to sleep, Mal."

"You won't puke on me, will you?"

Trip chuckled. "No darlin', I feel fine."

"Good." He yawned again and snuggled in closer. "We have to talk."

"Yeah, I know."

"My grandfather was right," he murmured.

"Hmmm?" Trip stroked Malcolm's back as his lover's breathing began to deepen and even out.

"He told me to find the light. I came here and I found the light."