ENT WIP: Finding Home 8/? R/S [R]

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Philippe de la Matraque

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Aug 5, 2020, 9:03:47 PM8/5/20
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Title: Finding Home
Author: Philippe de la Matraque
Part: 8/?
Series: ENT
Rating: R (for discussion of violence and torture)
Pairing: R/S light
Archive: Yes to Trekiverse.org, otherwise, please ask.
Contact: pdelam...@gmail.com
Web: http://gabrielle.sytes.net/Trek/stories/findinghome1.html
Summary: Sequel to Alien Us. Malcolm Reed barely survived to see to be
reunited with Hoshi Sato. But things have taken a downturn and now he
needs a new heart and a way to heal.
Author's note: I deliberately use italics like this *in text** just
because it makes conversion to HTML so much easier.


Star Trek: Enterprise

Finding Home
by Philippe de la Matraque
Sequel to *Alien Us**

Chapter Eight


Dr. MacCormack yawned. Quarterly reports were not her favorite part of
the job. It was late. Quite late. Dinner was hours ago. She'd had
something from the canteen sent up and ate at her desk. The rest of the
evening had been reports from each department and then writing her
report, bringing all the information together. She'd so much rather
work directly with patients, even closer than she had with Reed. She
liked the detective work of diagnostics particularly. But she tolerated
this interruption four times a year in return for overseeing and leading
her team of fine physicians, nurses and therapists.

Another fifteen minutes and she'd be done and ready to head home. She
took another swig of her coffee and winced because it had gone cold. She
heard footsteps running and getting closer. She looked up to see Mark,
one of Dr. Varnis's nurses arrive in her doorway. "There's a situation,
ma'am."

MacCormack came around her desk and followed Mark. She could hear the
commotion before she saw the situation.

"You murdered her! You and your people. You butchered her like a
piece of meat." It was an older man, paunchy, with an air of man used
to wielding authority. In and overbearing sort of way. A dark-haired
middle-aged woman stood a bit farther away. Dr. Varnis stood between
the man and the Recovery corridor.

"Mr. Reed," Varnis tried, raising her voice slightly.

"You mutilated my daughter's corpse. Left us little more than a husk
to bury. And why? She had months left. You killed her and for what?
He wasn't worth killing her!"

"Get Commander Charles Tucker III here ASAP," she whispered to Mark,
"and get Security. Then she deliberately walked up behind the man.
"That is quite enough!" she commanded. "This is a hospital and our
patients need their rest."

"You!" He rounded on her. "You signed off on it! Killed my daughter!"

"Your daughter chose to be an organ donor for her brother and others."

He used the same commanding tone. "She was compromised and you took
advantage of her condition."

"Why don't you come with me to my office," she offered without
softening her tone, "and we can discuss this without disturbing any more
patients."

Security came at that moment. "Sir," Serena interjected, "I suggest
you go with our CO or we'll remove you from these premises." James and
Kim stood behind her. They made an imposing team.

And that worked. The man, Retired Admiral Stuart Reed, MacCormack had
surmised, stopped yelling.

MacCormack turned and started back to her office. She half-hoped Reed
and his wife chose to leave but she didn't look back. She knew Serena
and her men would get the Reeds to follow.

She made it back to her desk, and pulled a PADD from her drawer just
before the Reeds entered. She set her jaw and spread her arms as she
leaned forward to spread her fingers on her desktop.

Admiral Reed entered with his wife following. Serena took up the rear.

"Please, sit," MacCormack offered, only now softening her voice. She
indicated the chairs in front of her desk. They sat and Serena adopted
a parade rest posture behind them.

"Your daughter's own physician found her competent to make the
decision," MacCormack informed them. She handed the PADD to Mrs. Reed.
The admiral snatched it from her "And she was fully congnitive when
she sat right where you are, Mr. Reed, and volunteered to be her
brother's donor."

"Admiral Reed," he spat back.

"Retired," MacCormack reminded him. "She was adamant that she did not
want her brother to have to wait. Madeleine Reed, herself, initiated
the energy pulse that her sent her into brain death. She chose this. I
am sorry for your loss, but your son is alive because of her sacrifice."

"And her hand?" he demanded. "Who got her hand?"

"Generally the names of donors and recipients are kept confidential.
The relationship between your daughter and your son made that
impossible. But I'll not disclose any more. The hand, however, was
amputated according to her will."

"What will? We haven't found her will."

"The hand and the return of her body were the only obligations from her
will the involved this hospital," MacCormack stated. "Beyond that, we
are not in the business of executing wills. However, the general custom
is that those named in the will are contacted by the executor of said
will. Now, if you don't mind, I have reports to finish. Lt. Brockmeyer
will see you out."

"I'm not finished!" He shouted, rising.

"Yes, you are," MacCormack countered, "and if I see or hear you in my
halls again, I'll have you arrested for putting recovering patients are
risk." She nodded to Serena.

Mr. Reed scowled, but he got around the chare to leave. Mrs. Reed
followed but never said a word. It left MacCormack to wonder if she
shared her husband's sentiments or was too cowed by him to protest.

MacCormack called Trevon and asked him to return. If Lt. Reed had
heard any of that, he was going to need help. This was the *worst** way
for him to find out that his sister was his donor.


After MacCormack and Security had left the corridors Dr. Varnis and her
nurses went door to door, reassuring patients and helping them get back
to sleep. They had started where the commotion had started and moved
back toward the Recovery wing. Kelen met her in the junction between the
two wings just as she left Sgt. Ip's room. "He's not in his room,"
Kelen whispered.

"Lt. Reed?" Varnis asked for clarification. "He can barely walk. Where
would he go? You checked the restroom?"

"Yes, doctor," Kelen replied. "It's empty."

"Keep looking," Varnis told her. "I'll let MacCormack know."

Kelen went one way and Varnis went the other. MacCormack was back in
her office. She was just turning off the computer so she must have
finished her reports. Varnis knocked on the door frame. When
MacCormack saw her, she said, "Lt. Reed isn't in his room."

"It's imperative we find him," MacCormack stated. She came around the
desk. "And whoever finds him needs to approach him gently. Could he
have heard them?"

"Patients three doors down from him heard," Varnis replied.

"Thanks, Janis, let's finish calming them and find him."


Trip walked back into Starfleet Medical at 2213. The lights were
dimmed and there was a whispered frenzy in the corridors as he
approached Malcolm's room. Trip went straight there. But Malcolm
wasn't in the room. He checked the restroom, even under the bed. Mom
always said when you looked everywherey something that's lost should be,
you gotta start looking where it shouldn't be.

He went back to the hall and spotted Dr. MacCormack. He wasn't sure
why she was still here so late. "What's going on?" he whispered.
"Where's Malcolm?"

MacCormack pursed her lips like she didn't like what she was about to
say. "We don't know."

Trip wasn't sure he heard that right. "What do ya mean, ya don't know?"

"There was disturbance this evening," she explained. "Mr. and Mrs.
Reed came, after hours, claiming they wanted to see their son. Dr.
Varnis wasn't going to allow that. Mr. Reed started shouting some
rather incorrect and very cruel things."

Trip felt his stomach drop. "What kind of things?"

MacCormack sighed. "That we had murdered his daughter and mutilated
her body to save his son, who he expressed wasn't worth it."

Trip couldn't breathe. "His sister?" It felt like Lizzie had died all
over again.

"She volunteered, Commander," MacCormack said her defense. "She wanted
to save her brother."

"I saw her," Trip said. "I talked to her. I had tea with her the
night we arrived. She said she was sick but she seemed fine."

"Brain tumor," she replied. "Incurable."

Trip pushed the confusion aside. "When were you plannin' on droppin'
that on him?"

"There was no good time to do so," she held. "I would have risked his
health. But this is the absolute worst way for him to find out, and
he's going to need a friend when we find him. Do you have any idea
where he might have gone? He hasn't escape the compound. We check
security sensors at the doors."

"Could they have taken him somehow?" Trip didn't want to think his
parents were that evil, but why else was he so hard to find?

MacCormack shook her head. "Not unless they had someone else working
with them, but it would be on the sensors. Besides, Security escorted
them out."

Trip rubbed one hand through his hair and tried to think. Malcolm
could barely cross the room. "What about Trevon? Can't he contact him
telepathically?"

"I've tried." Trip spun around to see the Betazoid approach. "He's
not answering me."

Then he remember this morning. Malcolm was so much more relaxed at the
park. But that would have been a very long walk for him. "The courtyard?"

"How could he manage that?" But MacCormack pulled out a communicator
anyway. "Serena, scan the courtyard."

Trip counted the seconds as they waited for a reply. "One patient,
male, near the pond."

The pond? Trip started running. Trevon was right beside him. "He's
aquaphobic," Trip told him as they ran.


He had recognized the voice shouting, and the words had cut him to his
soul. Maddie was dead and he wasn't worth it. Maddie was dead. That
was why she hadn't come. The shouting continued. He stood, knocking
the PADD to the floor. He ignored it, couldn't hear it. The walls
around him were stark, the bed across the room was a metal slab anchored
to the wall. But they'd left the door open. He had to escape. He had
to try.

He caught the door frame, turned right. His legs felt sluggish but he
kept going, using the handrail in the hall for support. He stepped with
his legs and pulled with his arms. The walls were closing in, he had to
make it out. The pain in his chest nearly drove him to his knees.
Maddie was dead. He pulled on the rail and rose again, aiming for the
bright spot at the end of the collapsing tunnel he was in.

He could barely breathe for the exertion--and the pain. He had to get
out. "You mutilated her corpse!" he heard again. "This is your fault!
You weren't worth the expense. Swim! You know how to swim! You cost me
everything!"

It was like he was being cut open but this time he could move. This
time he could gasp. If he could just get away.

The light, the tunnel's end. He pushed open the doors, stumbled out in
the crisp night air. But it was hot to him. Hot and dry under an
oppressive sun. He kept going. He could see water ahead.

By the time he reached the edge of the pond, he was crawling on his
knuckles and his knees. The grass was cool and slightly damp but in his
mind it was sand and it burned his fingers, his legs. He had to get to
the water.

"Come to me, Malcolm." A woman's voice. Hoshi? "Come closer. I can
save you." No, not Hoshi, but he recognized her just the same. "The
air is hurting you. Come to me."

His fingers sank into the mud and the water licked his wrists, seeped
under the splints and into the bandages. He sat back and panted against
the weight he felt. The hurt.

"We belong together, Malcolm," the voice sang to him. It was quiet,
sultry, alluring. "I could have saved you from the bullies. From the
orcs. From your father. Come to me, and I will take away all that pain."

He couldn't feel the water on his knees, the mud on his shins as he
knelt by the pond. He couldn't think. He could only feel the pain, hear
the voice. In the very deepest part of himself, sinking him into the
ground. It hurt more than anything T-Rex or Sauron had done, and he
couldn't make it stop. She said she could.


Trip saw him kneeling by the pond. His white pajamas stood out starkly
against the dark of the grass. Trip ran harder until he reached him,
and he slid the last few feet so that he stopped at Malcolm's level.
"Malcolm?"

Malcolm didn't turn to him. He had a dazed look on his face. Tears
had falling down his cheeks and he was breathing heavy.

Trip ignored the mud on his pant legs as best he could. It was cold
and wet. He'd never seen Malcolm like this. Trip waved Trevon away for
now. Others had come, too. Trip kept all his focus on Malcolm.

He put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder and moved closer. Malcolm's head
turned, and in the wan light, he looked half dead. "Hoshi will
understand," he breathed.

No! The realization slammed into him. Malcolm would drown himself to
stop the pain. Trip took both of his shoulders and turned him to face
him better. "No, Malcolm," he argued. "She won't." He took Malcolm's
face in his hands. "If you die, she will die. She'll find a way, just
like she did in Buftanis." Then he pulled Malcolm to him and held him.
"You can survive this, Malcolm."

Trip stood, lifting Malcolm with him and stepped away from the water.
Malcolm was dead weight so they only got a couple feet before they
dropped again. Trip just held him. It felt like hours before Malcolm
moved at all. He dropped his head to Trip's shoulder and let out a weak
sob.

Trip held him tighter. "I know it hurts, Malcolm," he whispered in his
ear. Tears welled up in his own eyes. "I know how much it hurts. You
tried to help me through it and I pushed you way. Let me help you
through it."

Trevon came closer. He was pushing a wheelchair. Another doctor stood
off to the side. Trip waved Trevon over, and, between them, they lifted
Malcolm and poured him into the chair. He was limp again, like a doll,
and he just stared at the pond. Trip's mind whirled. Malcolm couldn't
stay here. Not like he was, not with the courtyard within reach. They
would have to restrain him. That would make things worse.

He had to get Malcolm out of here. He had to take him home. He looked
to Trevon. "Stay with him. Move him back, under a tree, away from the
pond. Don't leave his side."

"I won't," Trevon promised.

Trip held Malcolm's shoulders. "I'm going to go get your stuff. I'll
be right back."

Then he ran. Past the doctor, the gawking nurses and orderlies, and
Security. He ran through the doors and down the corridors, all the way
to Malcolm's room. He fished the bag from under the bed and put the
PADD he'd left with Malcolm into it. He found another on the floor and
turned it on. It was letter, a love letter. To Hoshi. He turned it
off and tucked into the bag.

"Where will you take him?"

MacCormack was there. "He can't stay here. They know where he is."

"Do you think they would intentionally hurt him?"

"They already *have** hurt him," Trip countered. "He was gonna drown
himself in that pond."

"It hasn't been a week since surgery. He needs medical care," she argued.

"North Mississippi Medical Center in Tupelo. Real close to my parents'
place. You can coordinate his care with them, but I'm takin' him home."
Trip looked around the room for anything else. "My brother-in-law is a
home health nurse. He's between assignments." He checked the bathroom
and found some grooming implements.

"Commander," she started but Trip cut her off.

He couldn't let her override him. "He was doin' better. Healing,
talking. He talked to Trevon! Do you have any idea how hard it is to
get Malcolm Reed to talk about himself? It took a near-death experience
with him for me. The two of us in a disabled shuttle, light-years away
from *Enterprise** with not enough oxygen and a whole bottle of bourbon.
He can't stay here."

She nodded. "I'll need to get his files transferred. And I'll need the
address."

He had everything. It was time to go. "Get 'em and meet me in the
courtyard. You might want to clear it of unnecessary people 'cause I'm
puttin' my flitter down right in the middle of it."

She nodded and they left the room together. She went toward her office
and he went toward the exit. As he neared the flitter, a woman stepped
out of the shadows. She was carrying what looked like a silver
briefcase. "Commander Tucker?" She had a British accent like Malcolm
and Madeleine.

"I'm a little busy right now," he told her.

"You work with Lt. Malcolm Reed?" she asked, stepping closer.

Trip stopped and turned to face her. "Who are you?"

"My name is Sarah Farmer. His sister, Madeleine, worked for my firm.
She asked me to be the executor of her will. I need to see Malcolm
Reed. I have to give him this." She held up the case.

"I can take it to him," Trip offered, softening his tone.

She shook her head. "I have to transfer it directly to him."

Trip sighed. "Well then, get in. But when we get there, make it quick
and I'll do the talking. He's not really in a good place right now."

"I imagine not," she said, stepping into the flitter. "I saw Mr. and
Mrs. Reed storm out of there a while ago. I saw him at the funeral,
too. He's turned his grief into a furious anger."

Trip got in, sat in the pilot's seat and fired up the engine. "You
know them?"

She sat in the passenger seat. "No, I knew Madeleine. But it was easy
to pick them out at the service. I tried to get here before them."

The flitter lifted from the ground. Trip took it over the hospital. He
used the comm system to call home, audio only.

"Trip." His mom.

"I'm bringing him back with me," Trip told her.

"I understand. We'll be ready." He closed the channel.

The courtyard was below them. He lowered the flitter and turned off
the engine.

Ms. Farmer put a hand on his arm to stop him from getting up. "She
loved her brother very much. I got that much just from talking with her.
She was very proud of him. She recorded a journal after she got sick.
It's in this case. He should watch it, but maybe he should watch the
last entry first. She had been depressed about her illness. Her death
seemed like a waste of a young and talented life. Then she heard her
brother needed a heart. She was happy the last time I saw her. She
felt her death would have meaning because she could save him. He needs
to hear that, I should think. From her."

That matched with what MacCormack had said about Madeleine
volunteering. Trip got up and opened the door.


Trevon had wheeled Malcolm to the nearest tree and turned him away from
the pond. Malcolm didn't try to leave the chair. He hadn't move at
all. Trevon waited for Dr. Varnis to finish her scan. Then he knelt on
one knee in front of the chair. "Malcolm," he said, talking very
gently, "please, talk to me."

"I'm not Sam." Trevon was startled. But Malcolm's lips hadn't moved.
"I'm Faramir." Trevon felt a great weight on his chest, and he realized
it was from Malcolm's mind. So he steeled himself, used his training to
block the wave of sadness that poured from the man in that chair. He
focused on the words, the names. Sam and Faramir. Sam had been his
codename. Why Faramir? Less favored son of Denethor, Steward of
Gondor. Favored son, Boromir, had died. Faramir had asked his father
if he'd wished their places had been reversed, if he had died instead of
Boromir. Denethor said he did wish it. That fit the situation.
Fortunately, he was a fast reader. He'd finished the third book just
this evening.

*Faramir outlived Denethor,** he communicated back to Malcolm. *Aragorn
saved him from the Black Breath, and he won the heart of Eowyn. Just as
you won the heart of Hoshi Sato.**

But Malcolm said no more, and Trevon couldn't be certain he had heard.
The dark, pounding melody had drowned out the descant. And Hoshi wasn't
here to renstate it.


Trip found Trevon and Malcolm and motioned for Ms. Farmer to follow.
Trevon stood and Trip knelt in his place in front of his friend. "This
woman needs to give you something," he told Malcolm. "Something from
Madeleine."

Ms. Farmer came closer. There was a small device attached to her case.
She put the case on the arm of the chair and lifted the device. She
pressed her thumb to it. "Now his," she whispered.

Trip had to help Malcolm put his thumb on it. It beeped and the device
came away. She put the case on the ground next to the chair, then
nodded and backed away.

Trip looked to Trevon. "Can you put that in the flitter?"

Trevon nodded. "Yes, and I'll help you get him in." He picked up the
case and walked toward the vehicle.

Trip looked at Malcolm and was sorry for the time he'd call him the
grim reaper. Something very wrong in the Reed family had made Malcolm
the way he was.

Dr. MacCormack arrived with a couple PADDs as Trip pushed Malcolm
toward the flitter. "I've contacted the Med Center. I'll coordinate
with Dr. Perez. He'll need to see Malcolm as soon as he's able." They
reached the flitter. Trevon was inside and they both worked to move
Malcolm from the chair to the passenger seat. Trevon folded the empty
chair and tucked it into the back. Then he moved forward and whispered
into Trip's ear. "I need to keep working with him."

"You may be the only one who can," Trip agreed, touching his temple.
MacCormack stuck her head in after Trevon stepped out. "First one is
instructions for your brother-in-law." Trip took the PADD she handed
him and stowed it in Malcolm's bag with the others. "Second is for you.
I need the address."

Trip took it and wrote his parents' address before handing it back.
"Trevon's gonna need that, too."

"He's assigned here."

Trip took a breath and knew he was about to betray a confidence. But
it had to be Trevon. Trip leaned in close and whispered in her ear.
"Malcolm is a telepath. He needs Trevon."

It took her a beat but her eyes went wide. "I'll make it happen." Then
she handed him a blanket. "Keep him warm." She leaned back out and
stepped away. Trip closed the door then tucked the blanket around
Malcolm. Malcolm didn't react. He looked so lost. Trip sat down and
lifted the flitter from the ground. "We're goin' home, Malcolm."

Trevon stood beside Dr. MacCormack and watched the flitter lift off.
*Zheiren didn't break him,** he told her with his mind. *His parents
shattered him.**

"He's a telepath?" she asked, replying in kind. "How is that even
possible?"

*We didn't get that far, but it happened there, in Zheiren. No one
else should know. He's been studied enough.**

"He's been hurt enough," she agreed. Then she spoke aloud. "I'll get
you out there as soon as possible." Then they both turned and walked
back into the hospital.

Alan Heah

unread,
Aug 11, 2020, 1:22:07 PM8/11/20
to
OW! The shatter.

How people in self-righteous pain but blind to their own faults can continue doing serious damage.
Ultimately they themselves are wounded irrevocably.

While the unfairly injured continue healing.
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