Warnings throughout for language, torture, gore, mental illness, and other mature themes. Honestly, there's pretty much everything in this story. If it's going to bother you, please don't read.

Disclaimer: You've heard it before. Not mine.

A/N: This is a sequel to The Anachron Incident. It should make some sense as a stand-alone, but it does reference events in TAI and reading that story first will definitely help you understand what's going on, especially in the first few chapters.

"Relax, Lieutenant," Doctor Phlox said with a benign smile at his antsy patient that suggested that he could, and would, take all the time in the world to perform a simple examination, should he see fit to do so. "I assure you, Captain Archer is fully aware that you are required to undergo weekly check-ups until otherwise notified. I'm sure he would not put a meeting before the health of his Tactical Officer."

"It's a senior staff meeting," Lieutenant Malcolm Reed pointed out impatiently. "I can't just be late to it."

"Indeed you can, Mr. Reed." The doctor almost smiled at Reed's appalled expression. "But I don't see any reason that you should be late unless you refuse to cooperate."

Reluctantly, Reed slid onto the edge of the biobed and rolled up the sleeve of his uniform for a blood draw. Phlox set the computer to analysing the blood sample while he ran a hand scanner over Reed.

"How are you feeling? Any pain, dizziness, or concussion symptoms since last week?"

"No. I told you, Doctor, I'm quite well. I don't need to be examined every week."

Phlox hummed softly. "Perhaps not, hm? But consider it a small price to pay to ease the mind of your Captain and Doctor." He smiled an unnerving Denobulan grin at Reed, who was far too used to it to be startled. Phlox seemed to take great joy in having the most stubborn of his patients in for required examinations every week, while Reed had come to view them as an unnecessary nuisance to be avoided when possible and disposed with quickly when avoidance was impossible. Hence his reason for scheduling this one so shortly before an important staff meeting.

"How about psychological symptoms? Have you experienced recurring nightmares, heightened anxiety, or anything else you found troublesome?"

"No," Reed said, slightly less truthfully. It was true that he had been having trouble sleeping since the incident with the mysterious Anachron species, but it had been less than six weeks. He supposed a little lingering disturbance was only natural. It was sure to wear off eventually. Certainly he hadn't been having anything that he would consider a psychological problem. He felt alright and was doing his job just fine, and those were the only metrics of psychological or physiological health that he needed.

Phlox turned to examine the computer screen, which displayed the results of the completed blood analysis. "You still have trace amounts of the Zytexian chemical compound in your body, though it appears to be breaking down quite nicely," he reported. He peered into the Lieutenant's eyes with a piercingly bright light that made Reed blink and squint uncomfortably. "Slight retinal scarring…it should heal on its own in a few months, but if not, a relatively simple surgery would clear that up." Phlox brightened visibly. "Or if you would prefer a less invasive option, I have recently acquired a Trellan Neuroscoptic Leech, which is known to…"

"No thank you," Reed said firmly, suppressing a shudder. Phlox looked disappointed, and Reed heard him mutter something about "close-mindedness to proven science" as he put his instruments away.

"Sleeves up," Phlox said as he came back, gesturing. "Let's have a look at those burns."

Reed pulled both sleeves up above the elbows, revealing uneven patches of dark, glossy scars on his forearms and wrists. He'd sustained severe burns from the scalding controls of a shuttlepod piloted too close to a star. He loathed the sight of the scars, but they would fade with time and his experiences of several weeks ago had taught him nothing if not patience. Phlox nodded approvingly.

"You've been using the burn gel I gave you?"

"Yes."

"These are healing well. I expect they will begin to fade soon, but they will probably always be visible unless you opt for cosmetic surgery to remove them."

"I know." Reed pulled his sleeves quickly back down to cover the scars. "May I go, Doctor?"

"If you have nothing else to discuss with me, then you are free to go," Phlox told him. Reed slid off the table and started for the door.

"Thank you, Doctor," he called curtly over his shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief that he still had five minutes to make it to the staff meeting. That should be plenty of time.

He was the last one in, but they hadn't gotten started yet. Reed slipped triumphantly into the last empty seat between Ensign Travis Mayweather and Commander Charles Tucker, returning Tucker's buoyant grin of greeting with a quick nod.

"Sorry I'm late, sir," he said in an undertone to the Captain. Technically he wasn't late, since the clock only now showed 0759, but this was late by his standards.

"Phlox?" Captain Jonathan Archer guessed. He knew his Tactical Officer well enough to realise that there was always a good excuse if he was running behind. "All well?" he asked, at Reed's nod.

"Yes sir. I'm perfectly alright, these examinations are entirely redundant –"

Archer shook his head minutely. "It's not me, Malcolm, it's Starfleet. I think you can understand their caution."

"But if Phlox said he didn't see the need…"

"I'm not going to tell him to say that," Archer said, a faint flicker of disapproval on his face. "You know better than that, Lieutenant."

"Sir," Reed said stiffly, feeling chastened. He sat back and listened inattentively as the briefing slid through its usual motions – reports from each department, simple enough though important. He had long since learned to sort through the relevant details without devoting his full attention to it, and he did so now. The reports, in essence, boiled down to the same thing; Ensign Hoshi Sato reported all normal, as did Mayweather and T'Pol, in the form of a detailed narrative of the mostly-insignificant scientific phenomena scanners had picked up…

"We've been having some trouble in Engineering," Tucker said, bringing Reed's wandering attention back in an instant. "Some unusual power drains. I've managed to track it down, and it turns out it's those phase cannon modifications. It shouldn't be to difficult to reroute our systems back to what they were before…"

"No," Reed said quickly, drawing surprised glances. "There's a chance there are other tachyon-powered ships of that species out there. We should leave the modifications as they are. We can run on reduced power if need be."

"I…suppose I could try to fix the modifications so they don't cause a power drain," Tucker suggested. "It'll take a little longer – I haven't drawn up a schematic for it, but I can probably figure something out."

"Get on it," Archer nodded approval. "Anything else from Engineering?"

"Nothing pressing. I've got a few updates Starfleet sent me to run by you, but it's nothing big. I'll get around to it after I've taken care of these modifications."

"Anything from your end, Malcolm?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. However, I'd like your permission to build another plutonium warhead to keep on standby."

"Do you think it's likely we'll run into another Anachron ship?" Archer asked sceptically.

"It's entirely possible," Reed said tersely. "We have no idea where the first one came from. For all we know, we could be heading straight into their territory."

Archer frowned. "Hold off on that for now," he said. "Let's take care of the problem in Engineering before we start working on another nuclear warhead, shall we?"

"But if we do run into –"

"I said hold off on that, Malcolm. I'd like you to work with Trip to make your modifications to the phase cannons permanent and eliminate the power drain."

Reed considered making the point that full efficiency in Engineering was hardly a priority if the ship was destroyed, but he held his tongue. The chances of running into another Anachron ship were extremely small, he knew, though he still would have felt more comfortable with a nuclear warhead or two on board. Still, he wasn't about to openly argue the Captain's order.

"Yes sir."

"Very well then. Dismissed. Malcolm, stay back a moment."

Archer waited until everyone else had left before turning back to Reed, who had risen to leave before being held back by Archer's summons. "I get the feeling you're not exactly pleased with this arrangement, Lieutenant."

"I'm…concerned about the security risk, sir," Reed admitted respectfully, uncomfortably conscious that his protests had bordered on the unprofessional. "I would hate to be unprepared if we ran into another Anachron ship."

"I understand," Archer assented. "But please remember that this is a ship of science, not war. One of our best defences is the fact that we are scientists exploring peacefully. That's a claim we can hardly make, to either the citizens of Earth or to an alien species, if we're carrying around a weapon powerful enough to wipe out a continent."

"I just don't want us to be defenceless, sir." Reed felt a surge of frustration at the idea that the Captain was willing to risk another temporal anomaly and the destruction of the Enterprise on a matter of politics. Didn't he see that idealism and politics were worth nothing if they were destroyed?

"And we won't be. That's why I asked Trip to find a way to make the phase cannon modifications permanent."

"That's hardly enough, sir," Reed objected, feeling himself once again treading a thin line of disrespect.

"Lieutenant," Archer said firmly, with the note of steel in his voice that meant he was not yet angry but was unwilling to negotiate further, "you are sorely mistaken if you believe I would put this ship in unnecessary danger. I have explained my reasoning to you, and unless the situation changes, my orders stand. I am not careless with my crew."

My crew. The words recalled a flash of memory – Archer's cloudy, dying eyes staring up, his last thought for the men and women he led – My crew, Malcolm.

"With all due respect, sir," Reed said before he could stop himself, "you haven't seen what I have. You don't know what they're capable of. You didn't –" he checked himself abruptly, horrified, knowing he had crossed a line. Archer stared at him hard for a long moment.

"You have your orders, Lieutenant," he said at last. "You are dismissed."

Reed came to attention and left quickly, the Captain's eyes hard on his back as he left. All things considered, he had gotten off easy, though he felt slightly sick about the whole incident. He'd have to find a way to convince Archer to increase the ship's offensive capabilities. A few phase cannons might hold off an Anachron ship for a while, but they were a wholly inadequate protection. He rubbed his arms to ward off the chill of the air-conditioned turbolift and winced as the fabric scraped against the tender skin left on his arms by the deep burns.

Yes, something would have to be done. With a bit of careful design, perhaps he could come up with something equally effective that wouldn't appear as threatening on the scanners of an alien ship. If he circumvented the Captain's main argument against the warhead, Archer might be more likely to give his approval.

"Tucker t' Malcolm."

"Reed here," Reed replied, glancing up from his frustrating work over a skeleton schematic he'd begun drawing up for a high-yield warhead not powered by plutonium. It was maddening, because plutonium was clearly the simplest and most workable material he could use, but that was off-limits. He had toyed with the idea of using warp plasma, but that had theoretically been what caused the temporal anomaly in the first place. Using it as a weapon against the tachyon field with which it had interacted to start the time loop would be entirely counterproductive.

"I've got a way to fix th' energy drain. Kin yew get inside that access tube and reconfigure the conduits while I redirect warp power fer a bit? I'll tell you what t' do."

"That's not exactly my expertise," Reed pointed out warily. "Wouldn't one of your engineers be better off doing it?"

Tucker chuckled. "They're yer phase cannons, Malcolm. It's nothin' too difficult if you've got a steady hand."

"If you're sure," Reed said doubtfully. "Are you certain this will work? That was very fast."

"Fast! Where've yew bin? It's been four hours."

Four hours? Reed looked at the chronometer and saw with a shock that it was indeed past 1200. Had he been lost in his schematics for that long? Unsettled, he returned his attention to the comm unit. "What do I need?"

"I'm sendin' you instructions now. Just download them to a PADD and bring it with you. Shouldn't require much more explanation, but I'll keep an open comm link just in case."

"Very well." Reed scanned through the instructions Tucker sent him and gathered the equipment he would need. The procedure did indeed look simple, though he doubted it was as straightforward from Tucker's end.

The access tube was little-used, since it gave access only to two small power junctions, one from engineering and one to the phase cannons – hence the perfect place to splice together the power feeds. One end of the tube, which extended about five meters in both directions, gave access to these junctions, while the other was generally used for storage. Reed had not been in this particular tube since he had first modified the phase cannons with Tucker, back on that frantic and seemingly endless day when failure had meant destruction. It wasn't a welcoming memory. The back of Reed's neck prickled as he slid up into the warm, confined space. The bright spot his flashlight provided seemed small and insignificant.

Why aren't these lighted? Reed wondered with aggravation. It could be a security risk. Anything could stow away down here. Never mind the fact that this was the heart of the ship, in the centre of the well-protected and well-staffed armoury – all the more reason to keep it entirely secure. They'd found all kinds of things out here – who knew what could get into the ship without their knowledge?

Near the end of the tube Reed settled himself by the access panel and activated his portable communications unit before removing the panel. It came off easily, and he squinted at his PADD. Its dim backlight made reading difficult. Reed felt sweat running down his back, though he'd only been in the oppressive atmosphere for a few minutes.

"Tucker to Malcolm."

The tinny crackle of Tucker's voice over the comm startled Reed, distracted as he'd been by the instructions on the PADD. His hand slipped as he opened his end of the link. "Reed here."

"We're ready to go at this end. You ready?"

"Just a moment." Reed scanned through the PADD, checking to be sure he knew what he was doing. The procedure Tucker had outlined was simple, a slight variation of work he'd done a hundred times before. He activated his hypospanner and pinned the flashlight between his knees to give himself light to work by.

There's somethin' in here.

Reed flinched. The flashlight dropped and he narrowly avoided slicing his hand open on the thin, knife-like laser of the hypospanner. "What?"

"What?"

"Did you say something?"

"Nope. Why?"

"Never mind." Reed retrieved the flashlight and repositioned it. "Go ahead, Trip."

He concentrated firmly on the work in front of him, though the heat and stuffiness of the air were distracting. The job was not difficult, merely tedious, but with a live hypospanner it was always best to be fully alert.

It's hunting me!

He recognized the words this time for what they were – a memory of the last time he'd been in here. Tucker, under the influence of a bizarre alien drug, had hallucinated an unknown being stalking him in the dark. Reed brushed the memory away impatiently, though he noticed that his pulse was elevated. Ridiculous. It was just a memory, and it hadn't even been real back then. He resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder.

Behind yew…

In his mind's eye, Reed saw Tucker's petrified expression. A cold shock of adrenaline jerked through him and before he thought about what he was doing he had snatched up the flashlight and aimed it down into the darkness at the far end of the tube, which was punctuated only by a dim circle of light from the hatch. The bulkhead gleamed back at him, as white as bone. The tube was empty. Of course it was.

Get it together, Lieutenant, he chided himself angrily. Jumping at shadows like a child afraid of the dark – chief of security, indeed. Furious at his own irrationality, he applied himself to finishing the job as quickly as possible. The hot, fetid air was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe.

He finished welding the reconnected junctions and sat back, examining his work critically. A small lump of metal drooped unevenly from one of the welded areas, and he frowned with dissatisfaction at the inconsistency. Picking up the hypospanner again, he began carefully shaving the unevenness away.

"Looks like that's it," Tucker said cheerfully over the comm. The unexpected voice made Reed jump and the hypospanner slipped in his clammy hand. The thin red beam cut into the flesh of his hand between his thumb and forefinger with laser precision.

"God dammit!" Reed nearly dropped the hypospanner, but knew better. He switched it off and cupped his other hand over the deep, bloody wound. "Bloody hell!"

"What is it? Everything okay?"

"Yes. Fine," Reed gritted, wincing at the injury as he examined it in the light. It was more painful than dangerous, but for a cut this deep he'd definitely need medical attention.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." It was an amateur mistake. He'd been careless and had paid the price. "My hand slipped. It's nothing."

"Are you hurt?"

"Barely. I'm fine." Tucking the comm unit gingerly under his arm, mindful not to get blood on it, he started carefully back down the tunnel. He'd have to come back for his tools later. It wasn't like him to leave things lying around, but he had little choice in the matter.

"You didn't cut yourself on the hypospanner, did you?"

"Just a touch. It's fine."

"Those things bleed like hell, Malcolm. Yer goin' to Sickbay. I'll order yew if y' make me."

"No need, I'm going." Reed climbed awkwardly down from the tube into the startled gaze of Ensign Tanner.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"Just a nick, Ensign. I'll be back in a few minutes. See if Commander Tucker needs anything further."

As he made his way towards Sickbay for the second tome that day, Reed told himself that the shakiness was just from his injury. Adrenaline. Pain did that to you.

Reed sat on the same biobed he'd occupied that morning, feeling unreasonable sulky. It was his own damn fault he was in here again, but he would have liked to be able to blame it on Phlox. At least then he could tell himself that this was unavoidable. The towel that Phlox had given him to stem the bleeding was soaked with blotches of red. Reed grimaced at the sight.

"How did this happen?" Phlox asked in a business-like manner, bustling back over with a hand scanner and a hypospray that numbed Reed's hand and wrist when the doctor injected it into the uninjured side of his palm.

"Hypospanner," Reed explained laconically, allowing himself to relax minutely with the relief from the pain.

"Mr. Reed, you're quite aware of the necessity for care when using a hypospanner," Phlox chided. "It's far easier than you think to permanently harm yourself with one."

"So I see," Reed said wryly. "I trust I'm not permanently damaged, Doctor?"

"Let's have a look, shall we?"

Phlox dampened a fresh towel and wiped the blood from Reed's numbed hand. Slightly less obscured, the injury looked almost worse. The laser had cut into the side of his hand by the base of his thumb and sliced completely through his hand to a depth of about an inch and a half between his thumb and forefinger. Phlox skimmed the scanner over the afflicted hand.

"No sign of bone damage, but you've done quite a job here," he said cheerfully. "You'll be on partial duties for the next twenty-four hours."

"Partial duties!" Reed protested. "Doctor, it's just a cut!"

"Regenerators don't work magic, you know. You'll need at least two more treatments. Be back here at 0630 tomorrow."

"Just my luck," Reed muttered.

"If you don't mind my asking, how did this happen?" Phlox asked mildly. "Forgive me, Lieutenant, but you're hardly a careless man."

Reed hesitated. The tunnel had been hot, dark, cramped, filled to overflowing with sickening memories. It had been –

"Just a mistake. I got distracted."

"How's the hand?"

Reed looked up from the PADD he'd been poring over to find Tucker standing by his table. "Hm? Oh, it's fine." The offending appendage was bandaged, but it had stopped bleeding and the anaesthetic Phlox had given him had yet to wear off.

"What happened, anyway?"

Reed felt a flash of irritation. He wished people would stop asking that. "Careless error," he said testily.

"Careless? You?"

Reed shook his head, unwilling to pursue the line of communication further. Tucker sighed but gave it up.

"What are you working on?"

Reed pushed the PADD over to Tucker and sat back, sipping at his cold tea. He'd spent the past half-hour staring at the schematics he'd designed earlier without making any modifications. The problem, of course, was how to fuel the weapon's explosion without plutonium. There was little on the ship that was as powerful as the isotope, or as comparatively easy to work with.

"What is this?" Tucker asked. "How is this powered?"

"That's the problem," Reed explained. "I need something other than plutonium. Something that won't be as obvious if we were scanned."

"But what for?"

"What for?" Reed echoed incredulously. "For protection."

"Yew could still use plutonium," Tucker said absently. "You'd just need to shield it so it can't be detected." Reed's comment registered then, and he looked up, frowning. "Yer not thinkin' of making this, are you?"

"It's not much good as an idea on a PADD, is it?"

"But the Cap'n said –"

"I know what the Captain said," Reed assured Tucker. "But he also said his primary concern was the Enterprise looking too much like a warship to alien scanners. If I can hide it from scanners…"

"Look," Tucker said, disturbed, "I know you want to be sure we're protected in case we run into another Anachron ship, but you've got to admit it's pretty unlikely. We're running constant long- and close-range scans for elevated levels of Cherenkov radiation. They couldn't get within a light year without us knowing."

"You can't be sure of that," Reed said. Tucker didn't understand the threat, which was endlessly frustrating. He was the one person who should have understood better than anyone else. Reed retrieved the PADD and stood. "Don't worry, I'm not going to make it against the Captain's orders."

Reed's room was dark when he entered, feeling worn and weary. This day had been far too long. He switched on the lights and wandered over to his computer, absently flicking the display screen on to check for messages.

"Lieutenant Reed. It's been a while."

Reed went very still, instinct kicking into high gear and prompting him don't react.

From the computer screen, Harris's nondescript face stared enigmatically back at him.

A/N: I originally intended to publish this, or at least a version of it, last year. Then school hit hard and when I finally had time to write, this story decided to completely rewrite itself…I know – excuses, excuses. Unfortunately, since writing fanfiction doesn't pay, I have to fit it in around the rest of my life as a hobby. I will probably never post regularly on this site. I just like to share the bits of nonsense I occasionally create that other people might enjoy reading.