Disclaimer: As usual -- I don't own the characters, or the show. I make no money from this.

Author's note: Thank you, everyone for all the attention and support on this -- but yes, I am afraid that all good things must come to an end. Summer cannot last for ever, we must enter Autumn and face what it has to bring. In response to a question from two chapters back (sorry, forgot to answer it last chapter), no, tracythecubedone, I don't have a degree in child psych, it's actually in Communications. Which may be why I keep forgetting to communicate. Thank you again, all... it's been fun.

A/N2: Special thanks to gaianarchy and silvershadowfire who took the time to clean up the mess I made of this. I owe you guys a lot.

Chapter 15: Understanding

This just isn't fair. Malcolm idled in the hospital lobby, wondering how long it would be before he heard anything. The hospital staff hadn't let him go in with Trip; it had been a fight just to be able to travel in the ambulance. Still, they could at least tell him if Trip was going to be okay or not. He didn't look okay. In fact, had he not been making noises as he breathed, Malcolm would have assumed that his friend was already dead. Jonathan alternated his time between checking on Malcolm and hovering just inside the emergency ward. The doctors had wanted to check him out too – there was that much blood.

And now… he listened as Jonathan and Dino spoke in low tones. He couldn't hear it all, but he heard enough – the camp was going to send Trip home… there might even be recommendations to the police.

I can't let that happen. After everything Trip just sacrificed, Malcolm knew that he couldn't just sit there and do nothing. But what? He'd have to take a page from Trip's book, and adapt. Well, if he'd learned one thing this summer, it was how to stop thinking and just do things.

I can't do anything from here. A ten-year-old simply didn't have bargaining power – he'd have to arrange to get some. He waited until Jonathan disappeared through the doors again, then simply walked out of the lobby and down the street. He still didn't quite have a plan... but I'll just take it one play at a time.

# # # #

Not the smartest move of my life. Still, he'd been close… another couple of minutes and he could've dropped the guy. He's lucky you stepped in, Jon.

Not to say that this didn't hurt… it hurt bad – worse than he'd ever hurt before. The doctors seemed excited about something though – they kept checking him over, asking him questions and poking him. Everything looked kinda weird, too… hazy and a little bit red.

And they had to go an' give me the Freddy Krueger look, too. It was kinda cool, if he thought about it – and didn't think about how much his fingers hurt beneath those metal bands. But if he didn't think about the pain in his fingers, it was the pain in his chest and side every time he tried to inhale … not to mention the pain in his face and the fact that he couldn't breathe through his nose. But he'll think twice before messing with another kid… even someone as dumb as him can't be that stupid. Jonathan kept popping in and out of the ward like some sort of schizophrenic particle that couldn't decide which reality to inhabit – Trip could see him through a gap in the curtains, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking like he was gonna fly to pieces.

Don't worry about me; worry about Malcolm. After all, it looked like Jonesy had gotten a couple of good shots in, and Malcolm wasn't a fighter. I'm used to taking a beating. Linebackers were always looking to kill you… best to think of this as training for the fall football season. 'Course linebackers didn't tend to break your bones... at least not intentionally.

A doctor came in, started shining a light in his eyes. "How are we feeling?"

"I don't know about you, but I feel like crap. You mind getting that thing out of here before ya blind me?" God, he hated that… the phoney 'how are we feeling' bullshit. He wouldn't be here if he felt okay. Didn't this guy have eyes? Couldn't he read a diagnostic? Funny, though, he could barely understand himself talk.

"Well, we should have you back on your feet soon. You might want to remember this, though, next time you decide to start a fight."

Lucky for this guy, Jonathan picked that moment to step in. "He didn't start it. He was defending another boy. He did the right thing."

You're okay with this? Hadn't Jonathan been freaking out over any contact whatsoever between him and the others? Wasn't Jonathan the one who'd been going on about how Trip could be charged criminally if he pulled anything?

"I still don't see how…" clearly this doctor was one of those pacifist jerks who believed that every problem could be solved with a few kind words.

"He put himself on the line for somebody else. I've worked with a lot of kids… and let me tell you, most wouldn't go this far to help somebody smaller and weaker. Most either side with the bully – or the group – or just stay out of it."

What kind of alien being are you, and why were you desperate enough to kidnap my counsellor? Maybe someone'd hit Jonathan on the head… that was the only explanation. Or maybe he was possessed… like Linda Blair or something. Because this could not be the same guy who'd handed out lines only hours ago.

The doctor didn't look convinced, but he seemed smart enough not to say anything more. Suddenly Trip found himself believing the rumours about Jonathan taking on Kendricks. What he couldn't understand was why? You never answered that one, and after all the hell I've put you through… It couldn't just be a 'feeling sorry' thing… could it? After all, every time Jonathan showed concern, it was after something bad happened… like the migraine, or when Malcolm almost drowned. And now…

The doctor examined a couple more read-outs, then left, but not before glaring at Jonathan. "He needs rest."

"He needs a hell of a lot more than that." Jonathan muttered. He turned to Trip, "They haven't really given you anything for the pain, because they need authorisation from your parents to do so… and they haven't been able to get hold of your parents yet."

"I'm fine." After all, it was just a couple of broken bones, right? "Cuts heal."

"Cuts, yeah," Jonathan countered, "but from what I could gather you've got a couple of broken ribs, your fingers are smashed, you've lost a tooth – not to mention a lot of blood – and they're trying to figure out if you've got a concussion, if not brain damage. I mean, it's a good thing they don't have a mirror in here, or you'd scare yourself silly. But don't worry. This time those guys are going to get what's coming to them."

"I was working on that." Jeeze, some people could be so dense.

"You were getting killed. Maybe you should look in a mirror; you might scare some sense into yourself." Jonathan smiled, taking some of the sting out of the words. "But you did good. I mean that."

"Next time, stay out of the way." He ran his tongue over his lips, trying to figure out why they wouldn't work right. A series of dents and bumps answered that question… apparently, they'd been shredded against his teeth.

"With any luck, there won't be a next time, hotshot." Jonathan stepped aside as a nurse entered, holding something wrapped in a cloth.

"Hold that against your lips," the nurse instructed, handing it to Trip, "it will take down some of the swelling."

He did as instructed – the ice stung at first, then numbed the nerves. He sucked on it a bit, letting the cool water soothe his throat. "I guess I'm in for it now, huh?"

"We'll see." Jonathan patted him on the shoulder. "Try not to talk for a bit… it's probably not so good for you."

"Whatever." Like Jonathan could do anything, anyway. You do just feel sorry for me, don't you? You think I lost, so you pity me. Well, I didn't lose… you just kept me from winning. He wondered what Mr. Future Starfleet would say to that?

# # # #

What does it take to compliment you? Jonathan could see the mistrust still lurking in Trip's eyes; clearly the kid needed to believe that there was an ulterior motive to everything. One step forward and five steps back. "I meant what I said, kiddo. What you did took guts. And I know I told you that violence wasn't a solution – or something along those lines at least – but I was talking about vigilantism. You weren't the aggressor here, and you weren't out for revenge. Most kids – most people in general – wouldn't step in to help once things reached that level. They'd be too afraid for themselves – and for good reason. I mean, look at yourself, Trip… you're so badly beat up that you're barely recognisable. He could have easily killed you."

"I wasn't the one gonna die." Trip mumbled through the ice.

"You also weren't the one with a weapon. That's intent... at the very minimum, to do grievous bodily harm. There's a reason they call it 'Assault with a Deadly Weapon.'" A slight variance in any one of those blows… Jonathan shuddered. Bad enough to have to justify this, but it could have been so much worse.

He opened his mouth to say more, but Dino burst into the emergency ward in a panic. "Jon… your other kid…"

"Malcolm." Why could no one seem to remember his name?

"He's gone. I checked the vending machine, I checked the caf, I looked all over… then there was this message for you, phoned into the desk. He's taken himself hostage… he won't come back until we can guarantee this guy's not going to be punished for his actions."

"I wasn't planning…" Jonathan closed his eyes, putting it together. "He must have overheard us, thought we were talking about Trip. Did you talk to him?"

Dino shook his head. "No. The call came in from a public phone… I called it back, but he didn't pick up. I doubt he's there any more. Jesus, Jon, I thought that was the smart one."

"They both are," Jonathan said softly. A pair of over-intelligent mis-fits – no wonder they became such good friends. Even this stunt – while impulsive, overblown, and entirely wrong-headed – had a certain level of genius to it. Kidnapping himself… it was one of the most politically astute moves Jonathan had seen from a kid ever. He didn't put anyone else in danger… It's hard to say if he is in any danger himself, but the potential… we can't afford not to listen.

"We gotta go find him." Trip began to climb down from the bed, seemingly unconcerned for himself.

"Whoa. Not so fast, hotshot." Jonathan reached out to stop him. "You're in no shape to go anywhere, and the doctors would have my hide if I even tried to take you."

"But he's out there. Alone. He's not from around here, and he's just a kid."

"We'll find him, he'll be okay." He tried to ease Trip back onto the bed.

"No he won't. You were the one who told me that it was dangerous out there… and then he was with somebody. Now he's on his own. Anything could happen to him… what if he's gone off to hide in the woods? He…he could be… you guys kept warning us about wild animals… he's just little…"

"I'm sure he's okay." Actually, Jonathan wasn't so sure. This was so out of character for Malcolm – this couldn't have been planned out… and there were so many ways it could turn into a disaster.

Trip shook his head, despite the fact that it must have hurt like hell. God, the kid looked a mess – both eyes were blackened and the one was still swollen shut. He had stitches all over his face and splints decorated his fingers. Yet he hadn't cried or complained once, just sucked it all up and worried about his friend. "We gotta…"

"Kiddo…"

Trip stared up at him through tear filled eyes that drew out a sympathy overriding any reasonable arguments Jon might have had, and said probably the hardest word in his vocabulary. "Please."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

They scoured the town, but found no sign of Malcolm. With each failure, Trip grew more and more agitated. "I told you: he's probably run off into the woods… what if he gets hurt…"

Jonathan said nothing, just kept scanning the sidewalks as he drove. After all, what can I say? If anyone can talk about being hurt… Yet, here Trip was, beat to hell, and his only concern was the well-being of somebody else. Then again, apparently Malcolm's motives came from that same concern. I wish I had friends half that loyal.

Suddenly, Trip stiffened. "Oh, no… he wouldn't."

"What?" Jonathan found himself flooded with panic. What could possibly be bad enough to scare Trip more than he already was?

"There's the leftovers of this really ancient air-tram setup… It's kind of deep in the canyon."

"Oh, God." Jonathan knew the site… it was dangerous, especially at the top end. And it was the perfect place for someone to take himself hostage: it required a bit of a hike to get to, and carried enough physical threat to provide leverage.

"It's a really defensible position, he said, because it's hard to get to, and you could see anybody coming in. But if there's wild animals out there…"

I'm more worried about a fall. Those rocks could get slippery, and they weren't always stable. But they're certainly hard enough to land on. Jon refused to allow the images of a small broken body to enter his mind.

"I gotta go up there. If you go, he won't come out. 'Cause he's doing this to help me, and he prob'ly doesn't think that you're gonna do that, or that you can do that. But he'll listen to me."

"Trip, you're badly beat up. I shouldn't have brought you out here to start with, I'll be lucky if I don't get sued."

"I won't let Mom and Dad do that. I'll tell them it was all my idea… they'll believe it from me…"

"It's not them I'm worried about," Jonathan said, darkly, turning onto the highway. "It's the camp… I could be charged with endangering a minor. I could also be charged with kidnapping."

"I made you do it," Trip didn't seem to appreciate the implications. "I'll say I threatened to do something stupid if you didn't take me… everybody knows I do lots of stupid things. I kidnapped you… if you really think about it."

Like that could be used as an excuse. The authorities were more likely to argue that a person in Trip's condition was in no shape to threaten anybody, let alone someone nearly twice his size. Then again, who'd guess that a ten-year-old would think of abducting himself? A twelve-year-old, maybe – if it was the twelve-year-old sitting beside him. This is way more Trip's style, than Malcolm's.

He drove as carefully as he could when he turned off the paved stretch, not wanting to jar Trip any more than necessary. He didn't even get stopped at the end of the road before Trip had the door open and scrambled out.

"Malcolm!" Trip's voice echoed off the rocks. "Malcolm, I need to talk to you."

"Trip?" They had to strain to hear him. "What are you doing out of hospital?"

"Looking for you," Trip hollered back. "Are you insane?"

"I'm beginning to think so." It sounded strange to hear a shouted confession. "But I'm not letting you get sent home."

"Okay… where are you?"

"Trip!" Jonathan grabbed Trip's arm. "You can't go in there… you're lucky you're still standing."

"Jon, do you want to get Malcolm back here, or not? All this yelling is giving me a headache. Now, I'll do a better job of lying to him if you're not there."

"I don't plan to send you home."

Trip looked at him with near contempt. "Jon… I should be in the hospital. There's no way in hell anybody's going to let me stay at camp. I'll be transferred home, regardless. So… I'm going to have to lie. Let me go."

"And what happens if something happens to you, hotshot? Who's going to help you?"

"I can't pull it off with you there, Jon. You can't bluff worth shit."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Lucky for you, you've never played poker with me, or you'd be in debt for the rest of your miserable little life." If he took pride in anything, it was his ability to run a bluff.

"Well, I would, but we've got a life to save. Maybe later." Trip twisted away, and headed off into the woods. Jonathan followed after him.

"Go away, Jon." Trip didn't even look back.

"Go to hell, hotshot." If the kid wanted to hold him hostage, he'd damn well make sure he was a hostage.

They kept bickering, even as Jonathan had to catch Trip from falling a couple of times when the boy stumbled.

"Malcolm!" Jonathan yelled, suddenly, "Get out here before this idiot kills himself! You're the only one who can talk sense into him!" He waited, listening, then heard the sound of someone coming through the words towards them. Thank God.

"Trip, you really should be in hospital." Malcolm was covered in mud and slime and bits of forest. He half slid down the hill, using bushes to slow his descent. "This isn't a good place for someone in your condition."

"I tried to tell him that." Jonathan couldn't help but be sarcastic. "But he seemed to think that you needed saving."

"But you're not going to send him back? He can stay? You won't involve the police?" Malcolm practically quivered, but whether from anxiety or cold, Jonathan couldn't tell.

"I'm not going to send him back… but I'm not sure if he'll have to go home now, just because he's so beat up. They'll want to keep an eye on him, for his own health. And it wasn't Trip I was going to turn over to the police, it was the other three."

"Oh." Malcolm seemed to shrink. "I thought that you were going to have Trip charged with fighting them… because of all the bad things he's done before. But he didn't do those things for bad reasons. And fighting with Jonesy was about helping me…"

"I know," Jonathan interrupted before Malcolm became even more agitated. "I know why he did it, and it was a good thing that he did. Risky... maybe foolish... but good. This however, is the most ill-considered stunt I've ever heard of."

"Thank you." At least Malcolm had the decency to blush. "I tried… I needed to get your attention, and I couldn't think of any other way to do it."

"Yeah, jerking his chain does work, doesn't it?" Trip had gone grey, and his breathing became more laboured.

"Let's get you back, hotshot." Jonathan began herding them back to the car. "I just hope they don't skin me too badly for bringing you out here in the first place."

"Why did you?" Malcolm moved to Trip's side and began supporting him. "He shouldn't have been taken from the hospital… I didn't expect you to do that."

"He said 'please.'" Jonathan found himself disappointed when Malcolm didn't seem surprised.

"He does that. He just doesn't overuse it."

I didn't know you could. Jonathan buckled Trip into the seat, then unlocked the back door for Malcolm. "I'll try to go easy on you, pal. We're lucky this thing has fairly good shocks. And remember… if anyone asks, you kidnapped me."

Trip smiled wanly. "Okay. If I'm good, can I have a cookie?"

"If you pull off good, you can have a whole damn cake." Jonathan didn't like the way Trip sounded either. It was as though whatever he'd been running on had run dry and left him stranded in delirium. He concentrated on his driving, trying to spot the bumps and holes before he hit them.

"Sorry I wrecked your date." Trip's head rolled back and forth, limply as he mumbled. "I don't think she's the David Fincher type, though. You'd probably have to watch girl movies with her… nothing decent. When I get a girl, she'll like good movies."

"Okay." Better to pretend that he understood, even if it made no sense.

"Fight Club." Maybe Trip was more coherent than he seemed. "One of the best movies ever made… 'cept for maybe Donnie Darko or Memento or maybe Casablanca. Yeah, Casablanca's the best. Warner Brothers, 1942: Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergmann, Peter Lorre… that's a good movie."

"Okay." He decided not to disillusion Trip about his and Amy's relationship. If he wants to think we're dating, that's fine… I don't think he needs to be indoctrinated into the finer points of college life just yet.

"'Course, I don't know why you'd wreck a good movie by taking a girl to it. You'd be so distracted, you'd miss the movie. Prob'ly better to go your route an' make it a short walk in the woods."

Right. This was Trip he was dealing with. Jonathan decided not to pursue the subject; he was in enough trouble already. He glanced in the mirror, and saw Malcolm leaning against the window with his eyes closed, exhaustion from his adventure taking its toll.

"Jon… what do girls like?" Trip asked, "'Cause there's this girl… but I can't really get her to notice me… well, she notices me, but I don't know if she really likes me… and I want her to really like me… but I'm scared I'll screw it up."

"You want to know a secret?" So, it seemed like he'd finally made it all the way to Big Brother after all. "We all are. There isn't a guy out there who isn't scared to death that some girl is going to reject him – especially if he's got serious feelings for her. You've just got to guess your way through it, and hope for the best. Because just when you think you've got it figured out, everything changes."

"Oh." Trip drew silent for a moment. "So it's normal?"

Jonathan laughed. It seemed like only yesterday that he'd been on Trip's side of the conversation. "Perfectly normal, kiddo. When it comes to women, we're all in the same boat, and I'm afraid it's the Titanic."

"Mmnn." Trip didn't say anything else – he probably didn't have the energy to. Frankly it was amazing he'd gotten this far.

Nice to know you're human, though, kid.

# # # #

Ow. Trip opened his eyes to find himself staring at a dimly lit hospital room, dressed only in a flimsy gown. The doctors must not have been too pleased with his decision to look for Malcolm. Well, I had to. He looked over towards the door, and saw Jonathan talking to someone familiar… though he couldn't place…

Holy shit! What was Jonathan doing talking to Henry… Trip's heart and stomach both sank as the implications sunk in. Oh no… Henry… Jonathan… Archer… I am so dead. He had to get out of here, had to hide – except the only way out was through them.

The top guy in warp field physics, and I just spent the summer torturing his son. Well, there went any chance of an engineering career.

"Hey, hotshot, you awake?" Jonathan pushed the door open a little further than it was and stuck his head in. "There's someone here I want you to meet."

Uh, uh. Trip ducked his head under the blankets. This was mortifying. He'd dreamt of having the chance to meet Henry Archer… but not as some horrible little brat who… Maybe I'm just having a nightmare, and if I try hard enough I can wake up and it'll all go away.

Jonathan chuckled. "You'll have to forgive him, Dad… he can be a little shy."

Trip scrunched his eyes shut and willed it all to disappear. That was not the one and only Henry Archer standing there, Jonathan wasn't calling him 'Dad,' none of this was happening. No, no, no, no, no.

"What's the matter, hotshot?" He could hear the laughter in Jonathan's voice. "I thought you'd want to meet…"

Trip's eyes flew open and he popped his head out from the covers. "Honestly, sir, I had no idea… I mean, I didn't know that Jon was your son… and I…"

Henry started to laugh. "Personally, kid, I think he needed to be knocked down a notch or two. Now, my son tells me you're a pretty good engineer…"

"Not that good." Trip could feel himself turning red. "I mean I'd like to be, some day, but there's a lot I've got to learn…" He tried to ignore Jonathan's look of mock surprise. Asshole.

"Well, that's the first step." Henry smiled. "There's a lot to learn for all of us."

"W-D 40." Trip noted the look of surprise on both Jonathan and Henry's faces. "How it got its name… it's a Water Displacer, and it took them forty tries to get it right."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Well… something I didn't know. Sounds like you're pretty serious about finding things out."

Trip nodded. "Yes, sir. My Dad says I'm the master of useless things. He says I know more stuff that'll never come in handy than anyone he's ever met."

"You never know what you might need… sometimes the best inspirations come from the most unlikely of places. Maybe I might see you one day around the workshop. Who knows? You might even be there when we reach Warp Two, if you study hard, and get there quick."

Trip grinned. "I'd like that, sir. That'd be something to see."

Henry frowned, suddenly. "Well, I hate to cut this short, but I really have to go. It was very good to meet you, Trip."

"Yes, sir." He found himself a little surprised at the look of resignation on Jonathan's face. Didn't he get to see his father much? That would be pretty sad.

"I'm sorry about that," Jonathan confirmed Trip's suspicions after he'd seen his father out. "He spends most of his time in that facility… it's his entire life."

"My dad can get pretty caught up in his work sometimes." Trip tried to think of something that might make Jonathan feel better. "He even yells at me when I interrupt him, sometimes… but I'll bet your dad really does care, just like mine does. I think that dads don't always realise things – that's all."

Jonathan sighed, but nodded. "I know. It's just hard sometimes."

"It could be worse," Malcolm made his way into the room, and stood next to the bed. "You could have my father."

Trip pretended to consider it for a moment. "Naw… I'd probably give him a heart attack… either that, or he'd be going to jail for killing me."

Both Jonathan and Malcolm started to laugh. Trip watched them, then smiled just slightly. As much as he hated to admit it, his parents were right: he had gained something this summer – something he'd never expected. Friends.