Title: Legacy
Author: Sita Z.
Genre: Angst/ Drama
Rating: PG-13
Summary: During an away mission, Reed was kidnapped and tortured. Back on Enterprise he has to deal with certain memories of his past brought back by the traumatic experience. Please read and review!!
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise, I'm not making any money from this.
Chapter 3
Trip stared at the Armoury Officer. Reed looked away, seemingly embarassed at Tucker's shocked expression. Trip didn't know what to say. The things Reed had related to him in that quiet unemotional voice of his shook him to the core. Ever since the time they had contacted Malcolm's parents to find out about his favourite food for a birthday surprise Trip had suspected that Reed's childhood had been less than idyllic, but he had never thought it had been like this. His own family had never had much money, and Trip hadn't been raised to expect the world being handed to him on a silver plate, but still, his parents had supported him as much as they could. Their love and caring was something he had always relied on, and he hadn't thought much about it, either. It was just like having enough to eat, or a place to sleep - simply a part of normal, everyday life.
It came to him as a shock to find out that someone he knew, one of his best friends, actually, had grown up without it. The things Malcolm had told him made him feel sick. As a child no one had ever raised a hand against him, and the idea of his own father abusing him like that was simply absurd.
He looked at Malcolm who was staring down at his hands, avoiding to meet his eyes. The silence stretched between them, and Trip cleared his throat, determined to find the right words.
"Did you... did you ever try to talk to anyone again?"
Malcolm shook his head. "Would have been no use, either. He would have covered it up, just like he did then."
"What did he do?"
"He beat me until I blacked out that day, then locked me up in my room for a week or so. My face had almost healed again when he came in one day telling me he had enrolled me in boarding school and I would be leaving next Monday. Can't say I was sorry to go."
"And Jordan? Didn't he try to help you?"
At the mention of his former teacher a flicker of emotion crossed Reed's face. He shrugged, his voice subdued as he spoke.
"Maybe he did, I don't know. Wouldn't have gotten very far, though, I suppose. As I said, I was sent away for boarding school, and I never saw him again after that."
Trip saw through Malcolm's facade of indifference and knew it had hurt him badly to be let down like that. Maybe Jordan had tried to help him after all, but it didn't matter. Reed had already learned his lesson then, and had been careful never to trust anyone again. Trip suddenly realized that he was probably the first person Malcolm had ever told about this. It's not a very interesting story, Reed had said, and Trip knew he'd meant it, too. Malcolm never talked much about himself. A bitter smile tugged at Tucker's lips. Probably just part of being an officer and gentleman, he thought, not to bother your friends with unsettling stories about your childhood.
"Malcolm?" he asked, startling Reed out of his thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"Did you ever talk to your parents after..."
"After I joined Starfleet?" Reed shook his head. "No, I didn't. I wrote to Mom several times, but she never answered. Probably didn't get the letters, I don't know."
"And your father?"
"He wouldn't want to talk to me. The day I told him I wanted to go to the Starfleet Academy instead of joining the Royal Navy he told me to leave his house and never come back again.
Said he wasn't going to waste his money on some cracked idea of mine, and I was going to screw up, anyway." Reed paused, staring down at his hands again. "Well, seems like he was right, after all."
Trip felt a sudden anger well up in him. "You didn't screw up!"
Reed looked up, his mouth a hard thin line. "Of course not. I gave our weapon technology to some aliens who'll probably start a war anytime soon, destroying an entire society, but I didn't screw up."
Trip got up from the bed. "Malcolm, you didn't "give" it to them. You gotta stop doin' this to yourself, blamin' yourself for what happened. They probably won't be able to do much with the information anyway, since they haven't got the technology yet to construct phase canons, but even if they did; it wouldn't be your fault!"
"Not my fault!" Reed jumped up as well, his face screwed up in anger. "I'm responsible for the security of this ship and her crew and I endangered all of you just because - "
"Because what?" Trip noticed he had raised his voice as well, but couldn't help it. "Because they tortured you? Because they woulda killed you if you hadn't told them?"
"Because I was weak!" Reed's voice sounded hoarse, and Trip noticed his hands were shaking. He chose his next words carefully; he'd never intended their conversation to turn into a shouting match, he only wanted Malcolm to stop blaming himself for what had happened.
"You were anything but weak, Malcolm," he said, forcing himself to meet the Armoury Officer's glower. "Hell, you were down there for six *days*! I don't know what they... did to you, but I tell you, no matter what it was, I would have given up a lot sooner."
Reed averted his eyes, the muscles in his jaw working. He was obviously fighting very hard to keep himself from shouting as he answered.
"That's different. I'm responsible for Security, I'm supposed to be able to handle that kind of thing. And just because... that guy... you know, he had been at the interrogation all the time, watching as they.. beat me up and burned me with those rods... telling them what questions to ask, never saying a word to me... and then..."
Trip stared at him closely. "And then?"
"Then he suddenly... talked to me, asking me what I wanted, saying it was up to me... and I... I just couldn't take it anymore... I wanted them to stop, so I... I told him. Everything."
The words came halted, and Reed's voice was full of anguish and shame. And suddenly Trip understood. It hadn't been the beating, or the other things they had done to him, which had broken Malcolm. When the interrogator had asked him what he wanted, offering him the chance to put an end to it, Reed had been back in Jordan's office, a frightened ten-year-old who desperately wanted to trust someone, anyone. Trip remembered Reed saying something about making the same mistake twice and suddenly realized what kind of mistake Malcolm had been talking about.
"Malcolm," he said quietly, "you didn't do nothing wrong, neither now nor then. It was the right thing to do, giving them the information instead of getting killed, and it was the right thing to do, seekin' help when you were bein' abused. You weren't bein' weak."
Reed closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I was. And it was no use, either..."
"You were not! Think about it, Malcolm! Does it take a lot of courage for a grown man to beat up a ten-year-old boy? Your father was bein' weak himself, threatenin' you into silence instead of winning your respect. Tell me, did you ever really respect him?"
Malcolm looked at him. "I was terribly afraid of him, but I... don't think I respected him, no. But still... I shouldn't have told Jordan just because he said he'd help me. It only made things worse."
"Maybe not. At least you were able to get away from him. Boarding school may not have been a lot of fun, but he couldn't lay his hands on you there, could he?"
Reed looked down again. He didn't say anything, but Trip could see he wasn't ready to forgive himself for "being weak". Trip shook his head.
"Malcolm, do you think anyone here blames you for what happened? It could've happened to anyone of us, and anyone would have done the same thing! They would have killed you!"
"Then I should have been killed." Reed's face was expressionless as he spoke, and Trip felt a sudden anger at the man's stubbornness.
"The hell you should! Remember the time you tried to pull the same kind of stunt out there in the minefield, killing yourself in the line of duty? Since then you saved the lives of at least a hundred people just by doin' your job! What would've happened to them if you'd been killed? Ever thought about that?"
Reed didn't answer and Trip noticed how weary he looked. His face was still very pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. Those ribs must hurt like hell, Trip thought, feeling guilty for lashing out at him like that.
"Look, Malcolm, what I'm trying to say is that we need you. If you go and get yourself killed, who's going to pester the Cap'n about taking phasers on an away mission, or wake everyone up at the dead of night with another "Reed Alert"?"
Malcolm looked up and there was the tiniest trace of a smile on his lips as he answered.
"Thanks, Trip."
Trip leaned on the doorframe, smiling. "You're welcome." He paused, watching as Malcolm sat down on the bed. "No offense, but you look like you're ready to hit the sack. I didn't want to tell you before, but the Cap'n talked to Phlox and he said it's ok for you to go back on light duties tomorrow."
He saw Malcolm's face lighten up and rolled his eyes. "Talk about workaholics. It's *light duties*, don't forget, and if we catch you pullin' extra shifts you'll be confined to sickbay for another week. So don't even try, ok?"
Reed's face fell. "I won't." Seeing Trip's eyebrows raised in disbelieve, he sighed. "Promise."
Trip grinned. "Foiled again, huh? Well, you'd better get some sleep now, or Jon will have my head for keepin' you up that long."
He turned to the door, ready to leave, but stopped in his tracks as he heard Reed's voice behind him.
"Trip."
He looked back.
"Thank you."
Trip felt a little embarassed at the gratitude he heard in Malcolm's voice. He wasn't used to that kind of thing coming from the quiet and formal Armoury Officer who always made a point of doing everything by the book, trying to maintain protocol in all situations. But looking at Reed he saw Malcolm was being serious. Trip smiled at him.
"You're welcome, my friend."
He pushed a button and the door opened. Before he left, Trip turned back to Reed one more time.
"Sleep well, Lieutenant."
Reed lay down on his bed. He was so tired his eyes started burning, and his ribs were aching terribly, but he didn't really notice. He felt strange. In the beginning he'd just talked to Trip so the Commander would finally go and leave him alone, and he had ended up telling him more than he had ever told anyone before. But somehow, he didn't feel as bad about it as he would have thought. For the first time in days he was able simply to rest; the weight on his soul had somehow been lessened. Maybe tonight there would be no nightmares.
He turned over, wincing a little as a dull pain stabbed through his ribs. It was time that cast came off, it was more annoying than anything else. Reed lay still for a while, listening to the subdued humming of the warp engines and the sound of voices talking in the distance. His eyes were already beginning to droop, when he suddenly thought of Madeline. It was more than seven years ago when he had last spoken to her. They'd been writing letters when he'd still been at the Academy, but after that they'd somehow lost touch.He didn't even know what she was doing at the moment.
Suddenly Malcolm didn't feel tired anymore. He'd done enough resting in the last few days, it wouldn't hurt to stay up for another half an hour. He pushed back the covers and walked over to his desk, switching on the screen. Sitting down on his chair, he stared at the blank screen for a moment, then began to write.
The End
Author: Sita Z.
Genre: Angst/ Drama
Rating: PG-13
Summary: During an away mission, Reed was kidnapped and tortured. Back on Enterprise he has to deal with certain memories of his past brought back by the traumatic experience. Please read and review!!
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise, I'm not making any money from this.
Chapter 3
Trip stared at the Armoury Officer. Reed looked away, seemingly embarassed at Tucker's shocked expression. Trip didn't know what to say. The things Reed had related to him in that quiet unemotional voice of his shook him to the core. Ever since the time they had contacted Malcolm's parents to find out about his favourite food for a birthday surprise Trip had suspected that Reed's childhood had been less than idyllic, but he had never thought it had been like this. His own family had never had much money, and Trip hadn't been raised to expect the world being handed to him on a silver plate, but still, his parents had supported him as much as they could. Their love and caring was something he had always relied on, and he hadn't thought much about it, either. It was just like having enough to eat, or a place to sleep - simply a part of normal, everyday life.
It came to him as a shock to find out that someone he knew, one of his best friends, actually, had grown up without it. The things Malcolm had told him made him feel sick. As a child no one had ever raised a hand against him, and the idea of his own father abusing him like that was simply absurd.
He looked at Malcolm who was staring down at his hands, avoiding to meet his eyes. The silence stretched between them, and Trip cleared his throat, determined to find the right words.
"Did you... did you ever try to talk to anyone again?"
Malcolm shook his head. "Would have been no use, either. He would have covered it up, just like he did then."
"What did he do?"
"He beat me until I blacked out that day, then locked me up in my room for a week or so. My face had almost healed again when he came in one day telling me he had enrolled me in boarding school and I would be leaving next Monday. Can't say I was sorry to go."
"And Jordan? Didn't he try to help you?"
At the mention of his former teacher a flicker of emotion crossed Reed's face. He shrugged, his voice subdued as he spoke.
"Maybe he did, I don't know. Wouldn't have gotten very far, though, I suppose. As I said, I was sent away for boarding school, and I never saw him again after that."
Trip saw through Malcolm's facade of indifference and knew it had hurt him badly to be let down like that. Maybe Jordan had tried to help him after all, but it didn't matter. Reed had already learned his lesson then, and had been careful never to trust anyone again. Trip suddenly realized that he was probably the first person Malcolm had ever told about this. It's not a very interesting story, Reed had said, and Trip knew he'd meant it, too. Malcolm never talked much about himself. A bitter smile tugged at Tucker's lips. Probably just part of being an officer and gentleman, he thought, not to bother your friends with unsettling stories about your childhood.
"Malcolm?" he asked, startling Reed out of his thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"Did you ever talk to your parents after..."
"After I joined Starfleet?" Reed shook his head. "No, I didn't. I wrote to Mom several times, but she never answered. Probably didn't get the letters, I don't know."
"And your father?"
"He wouldn't want to talk to me. The day I told him I wanted to go to the Starfleet Academy instead of joining the Royal Navy he told me to leave his house and never come back again.
Said he wasn't going to waste his money on some cracked idea of mine, and I was going to screw up, anyway." Reed paused, staring down at his hands again. "Well, seems like he was right, after all."
Trip felt a sudden anger well up in him. "You didn't screw up!"
Reed looked up, his mouth a hard thin line. "Of course not. I gave our weapon technology to some aliens who'll probably start a war anytime soon, destroying an entire society, but I didn't screw up."
Trip got up from the bed. "Malcolm, you didn't "give" it to them. You gotta stop doin' this to yourself, blamin' yourself for what happened. They probably won't be able to do much with the information anyway, since they haven't got the technology yet to construct phase canons, but even if they did; it wouldn't be your fault!"
"Not my fault!" Reed jumped up as well, his face screwed up in anger. "I'm responsible for the security of this ship and her crew and I endangered all of you just because - "
"Because what?" Trip noticed he had raised his voice as well, but couldn't help it. "Because they tortured you? Because they woulda killed you if you hadn't told them?"
"Because I was weak!" Reed's voice sounded hoarse, and Trip noticed his hands were shaking. He chose his next words carefully; he'd never intended their conversation to turn into a shouting match, he only wanted Malcolm to stop blaming himself for what had happened.
"You were anything but weak, Malcolm," he said, forcing himself to meet the Armoury Officer's glower. "Hell, you were down there for six *days*! I don't know what they... did to you, but I tell you, no matter what it was, I would have given up a lot sooner."
Reed averted his eyes, the muscles in his jaw working. He was obviously fighting very hard to keep himself from shouting as he answered.
"That's different. I'm responsible for Security, I'm supposed to be able to handle that kind of thing. And just because... that guy... you know, he had been at the interrogation all the time, watching as they.. beat me up and burned me with those rods... telling them what questions to ask, never saying a word to me... and then..."
Trip stared at him closely. "And then?"
"Then he suddenly... talked to me, asking me what I wanted, saying it was up to me... and I... I just couldn't take it anymore... I wanted them to stop, so I... I told him. Everything."
The words came halted, and Reed's voice was full of anguish and shame. And suddenly Trip understood. It hadn't been the beating, or the other things they had done to him, which had broken Malcolm. When the interrogator had asked him what he wanted, offering him the chance to put an end to it, Reed had been back in Jordan's office, a frightened ten-year-old who desperately wanted to trust someone, anyone. Trip remembered Reed saying something about making the same mistake twice and suddenly realized what kind of mistake Malcolm had been talking about.
"Malcolm," he said quietly, "you didn't do nothing wrong, neither now nor then. It was the right thing to do, giving them the information instead of getting killed, and it was the right thing to do, seekin' help when you were bein' abused. You weren't bein' weak."
Reed closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I was. And it was no use, either..."
"You were not! Think about it, Malcolm! Does it take a lot of courage for a grown man to beat up a ten-year-old boy? Your father was bein' weak himself, threatenin' you into silence instead of winning your respect. Tell me, did you ever really respect him?"
Malcolm looked at him. "I was terribly afraid of him, but I... don't think I respected him, no. But still... I shouldn't have told Jordan just because he said he'd help me. It only made things worse."
"Maybe not. At least you were able to get away from him. Boarding school may not have been a lot of fun, but he couldn't lay his hands on you there, could he?"
Reed looked down again. He didn't say anything, but Trip could see he wasn't ready to forgive himself for "being weak". Trip shook his head.
"Malcolm, do you think anyone here blames you for what happened? It could've happened to anyone of us, and anyone would have done the same thing! They would have killed you!"
"Then I should have been killed." Reed's face was expressionless as he spoke, and Trip felt a sudden anger at the man's stubbornness.
"The hell you should! Remember the time you tried to pull the same kind of stunt out there in the minefield, killing yourself in the line of duty? Since then you saved the lives of at least a hundred people just by doin' your job! What would've happened to them if you'd been killed? Ever thought about that?"
Reed didn't answer and Trip noticed how weary he looked. His face was still very pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. Those ribs must hurt like hell, Trip thought, feeling guilty for lashing out at him like that.
"Look, Malcolm, what I'm trying to say is that we need you. If you go and get yourself killed, who's going to pester the Cap'n about taking phasers on an away mission, or wake everyone up at the dead of night with another "Reed Alert"?"
Malcolm looked up and there was the tiniest trace of a smile on his lips as he answered.
"Thanks, Trip."
Trip leaned on the doorframe, smiling. "You're welcome." He paused, watching as Malcolm sat down on the bed. "No offense, but you look like you're ready to hit the sack. I didn't want to tell you before, but the Cap'n talked to Phlox and he said it's ok for you to go back on light duties tomorrow."
He saw Malcolm's face lighten up and rolled his eyes. "Talk about workaholics. It's *light duties*, don't forget, and if we catch you pullin' extra shifts you'll be confined to sickbay for another week. So don't even try, ok?"
Reed's face fell. "I won't." Seeing Trip's eyebrows raised in disbelieve, he sighed. "Promise."
Trip grinned. "Foiled again, huh? Well, you'd better get some sleep now, or Jon will have my head for keepin' you up that long."
He turned to the door, ready to leave, but stopped in his tracks as he heard Reed's voice behind him.
"Trip."
He looked back.
"Thank you."
Trip felt a little embarassed at the gratitude he heard in Malcolm's voice. He wasn't used to that kind of thing coming from the quiet and formal Armoury Officer who always made a point of doing everything by the book, trying to maintain protocol in all situations. But looking at Reed he saw Malcolm was being serious. Trip smiled at him.
"You're welcome, my friend."
He pushed a button and the door opened. Before he left, Trip turned back to Reed one more time.
"Sleep well, Lieutenant."
Reed lay down on his bed. He was so tired his eyes started burning, and his ribs were aching terribly, but he didn't really notice. He felt strange. In the beginning he'd just talked to Trip so the Commander would finally go and leave him alone, and he had ended up telling him more than he had ever told anyone before. But somehow, he didn't feel as bad about it as he would have thought. For the first time in days he was able simply to rest; the weight on his soul had somehow been lessened. Maybe tonight there would be no nightmares.
He turned over, wincing a little as a dull pain stabbed through his ribs. It was time that cast came off, it was more annoying than anything else. Reed lay still for a while, listening to the subdued humming of the warp engines and the sound of voices talking in the distance. His eyes were already beginning to droop, when he suddenly thought of Madeline. It was more than seven years ago when he had last spoken to her. They'd been writing letters when he'd still been at the Academy, but after that they'd somehow lost touch.He didn't even know what she was doing at the moment.
Suddenly Malcolm didn't feel tired anymore. He'd done enough resting in the last few days, it wouldn't hurt to stay up for another half an hour. He pushed back the covers and walked over to his desk, switching on the screen. Sitting down on his chair, he stared at the blank screen for a moment, then began to write.
The End