Part II! Again, a loving thank you to DinahD, volley, Emiliana Keladra, and Mary. Reviews like yours makes the hours spent agonizing over word choice worth it :)

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Trip leaned his own head against the wall once he saw his friend do so, and reflected on the injuries Malcolm had said he'd sustained. Two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, fractured ankle, and pretty deep claw wounds. In light of things, it definitely could have been worse, Trip thought to himself optimistically, his reaction dampened by a violent shiver that wracked his exhausted body. It must have been close to the tenth hour, though the moon shone almost as bright as a lighthouse beacon upon the land.

Malcolm opened an eye and looked at Trip, who was still slumped against the wall. A guilty expression crossed Malcolm's face as he surveyed the other man's injuries, and it made Malcolm want to bash his own head against the wall behind him. After the creature had bit him he had felt a dizzying pain, and then had clearly lost consciousness for an indeterminable amount of time. When he had finally woken up, he'd been surprised- to say the least- when he learned that he was dangling off of a great cliff wall, over a large pack of ravenous beasts. Trip had been holding him against the cliff, and even in his numb state, Malcolm had been able to feel the great strain running through Trip's body. Trip had then done the impossible, and had lifted Malcolm over his head, all but throwing him onto that ledge, and into safety.

Malcolm remembered the way he had looked over the edge of the rock, unable to move anything but his left arm. He had seen Trip grasp another rock and then suddenly he had slipped. The man had seemed to fall so slowly, and Malcolm's heart had stopped in his chest. He was sure that Trip had been-

Malcolm shook his head harshly to dissipate the thoughts, but it did nothing for the shame he felt. Trip had almost died because of him, because he was so damn selfless in trying to save him first. Malcolm reached out and gently shook the Commander's good shoulder, bringing him out of his dazed thoughts. "With all due respect, it's been a few minutes," Malcolm said quietly as he reached for the emergency kit and his flask of water.

Trip nodded and looked down at him, and the disarray that was his shirt. "I must look a bloody mess," he said, mocking Malcolm's pleasant British accent teasingly.

Malcolm didn't smile as he looked over his friend's injuries sadly, and with guilt. "You look terrible," he muttered, his voice full of self-loathing as he opened his flask of water.

"Hey now," Trip said indignantly, "that's just not true. Commander Charles Tucker III always looks good," he joked, flashing Malcolm a cocky grin.

But Malcolm's face was still serious despite Trip's jesting. He silently moved the bloodied tatters of Trip's shirt out of the way, and poured water on the slash wounds. Trip's face went pale, and he drew in a sharp intake of breath, half from pain, and half from the shock of the icy air hitting the water. Malcolm took out a piece of cloth and began to dab Trip's wounds as gently as possible, cleaning the blood out.

Trip watched Malcolm's impassive face as he worked automatically, doing a thorough job of cleaning the cuts. Trip furrowed his eyebrows in frustration as he broke the silence. "Please tell me you're not feelin' responsible for some ridiculous reason," he said, clearly annoyed.

Malcolm said nothing, but continued to work, keeping his eyes downcast. He started to wrap the wounds as best he could, but the contents of his medical kit were limited. He was about to bandage another cut when Trip's hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed his arm roughly.

Malcolm lifted his head in surprise, his eyes meeting Trip's furious glance. "Answer me," he growled.

Malcolm let out of a hollow, humorless laugh as he wrenched his arm out of Trip's grasp. "You almost died because of me," he spat, self-hatred in his voice. "You risked your life to get me to safety and then you fell and there was nothing I could do about. I was so damn useless up there, safe on this ledge while you were down there, injured and alone."

Trip was momentarily taken aback by his friend's painful honesty, and the hurt in his voice. "That's not true, Malcolm," he said softly after a moment of tense silence.

"It is, and you know it-" Malcolm started, before Trip cut him off sharply.

"Would you let me finish?" Trip shouted, cutting him off impatiently. "You shot those beasts off me, remember? You were there for me, though you managed to incite a period of suspense by waiting a couple seconds before you shot them, but I can forgive you for that," he said lightly, trying to cheer his friend up. Malcolm's expression didn't change the slightest though, and he still looked miserable.

"Look," Trip began again, his tone serious. "If you want me to be honest, I didn't have a moment's doubt that you would shoot those creatures before they got to me. I know you, Malcolm, and I knew you'd be there. There's nothin' useless about you, never has been. Hell, you practically lifted me up that wall single-handedly, no pun intended," he said with a small smile.

Malcolm felt some of his tension leave him, but he was still doubtful. "But you put yourself at risk to save me. I'm the ship's Security Officer, I should be the one keeping you safe, and-"

"Shut up," Trip groaned, rolling his eyes. "If you have any sense of duty, you should be savin' me from your incessant need to apologize and take the blame for things that aren't your fault. If I thought you were to blame, you know I sure as hell would tell you," Trip said frankly.

Malcolm knew that was true, his friend usually was bluntly honest about most things. He didn't know what to say, but allowed a small smile to grace his lips before he continued to bandage the rest of Trip's wounds. The two friends passed the time in silence, each battling with their own pain and injuries, but neither complaining.

Trip's teeth chattered together loudly again as another violent shiver coursed through his body, but this time it didn't seem to stop. The shudders aggravated his wounds, and caused him to groan softly in agony. Malcolm was instantly digging into his small bag, and managed to pull out a decently sized blanket. He draped it over Trip's body, and watched to make sure that the Commander's cold spasms subsided. Trip gratefully started to tuck himself in, but then stopped to raise an eyebrow at Malcolm.

"I can't take this if you're just gonna be sittin' there in the cold," he said, starting to take the blanket off of him.

"That's very chivalrous of you, Sir, but that's not necessary," Malcolm quipped, as he reached into the backpack again and pulled out a second blanket, which he placed on himself.

Trip's mouth dropped open comically, and he eyed the small backpack curiously. "How the hell did you fit all this in there? Better question, why do you have two blankets?"

"Did you bring one?" Malcolm asked rhetorically, already anticipating Trip's negative answer. "It seems my paranoia has once again served you well," he said, using his arms to push himself into a more comfortable position.

"Can't argue that one," Trip agreed, burrowing himself deeper into the blanket's warmth. He was still cold, but he no longer felt as though he was going to turn into a human icicle at any given moment.

"How are those injuries doing, Commander?" Malcolm asked after a couple minutes of content silence.

"Well, the good news is that all my limbs all still attached to my body."

"The bad news?" Malcolm asked, tilting his head to look at his friend.

"The bad news is that they would hurt a lot less if they weren't," Trip answered wryly.

"I wish I could give you a shot for the pain, but I don't want you to get drowsy. Neither of us should fall asleep in this cold, there's a distinct possibility of catching hypothermia and then never waking up," Malcolm said, in his usual clipped tone of voice.

"That'd be mighty unfortunate," Trip agreed.

The two men passed a few minutes more minutes of silence, each man trying to gain control over their own injuries and pains.

"Can I ask you a question?" Trip said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

"Sure, Commander," Malcolm responded, though there was clearly an edge of reserve in his voice.

"You're aware that my friends all call me Trip, right?"

"I'm aware," Malcolm responded in confusion, unsure of where this was going.

"And you are aware that you're allowed to call me that as well, right?" Trip said slowly, as though speaking to a dog.

Malcolm paused for a moment in thought. "I suppose,"

"So why don't you?"

"I presume it's because I was always taught to address my superiors by their rank, not by their names. I would never have called a man who outranks me by anything but his title, even if I respected him greatly-"

"You respect me?" Trip interceded with a mischievous grin.

"I didn't say that directly," Malcolm sputtered, clearly embarrassed by what he had said and trying to find the least possible pride-reducing way out.

"You respect me!" Trip said again, thoroughly enjoying teasing his friend, who was now a deep shade of red not caused only by the cold.

"I- shut up." Malcolm stammered ungracefully. "I don't think you're completely incompetent," he admitted quietly after a few seconds of looking into Trip's grinning face.

"Well!" Trip exclaimed, leaning his head back against the rock wall. "Coming from you, that's good enough for me," he said with a small laugh, followed by a wince at the shot of pain throughout his body.

"Besides, how do you get Trip from Charles anyways? If you ask me, it's a bit ridiculous, and not at all logical," Malcolm said, attempting to divert the conversation away from his embarrassing vocal admission that he found Trip to be a very good Officer.

"You're soundin' like T'Pol with a British accent, and it's a little frightenin'," Trip responded cheekily, giving his friend a pointed look.

Malcolm was about to retort when a howling sound cut the night air, so close that both men jumped a little. Malcolm peered over the edge of the outcropping of rock and down to the ground below. Six pairs of eyes stared back icily at him in the night, and Malcolm drew his phase pistol reflexively.

"Ah, let 'em be," Trip drawled. "They can't hurt us from way down there. Poor bastards are just hungry."

Malcolm arched an eyebrow and regarded his friend with an almost incredulous look. "You almost became their dinner earlier, and if I'm not mistaken, I'm sensing sympathy in your voice?"

"Empathy, Malcolm," Trip stressed, his blue eyes bright in the moonlight. "It's different. They don't have Chef to prepare them a synthesized meal whenever they're hungry, they gotta make do somehow," he said wisely.

"You're quite the character, Mr. Tucker," Malcolm responded, but he had to agree, and put his weapon away.

"Besides, look at us!" Trip exclaimed a moment later, gesturing under his blanket. "We're Senior Officers on one of the most prestigious Starfleets ever to roam the galaxy… of course we look delicious!"

Malcolm found himself laughing uproariously at the ridiculousness of Trip's statement, and even though his chortles aggravated his aches and pains, if felt good just to laugh. When he was finally able to control the mirth he leaned back again, and drew his legs closer to him without thinking. He rested his head on his knees and sat there for a couple seconds before the realization of what he just did hit him. His face broke out into a smile as he bent and unbent his legs experimentally. He got to his feet, ignoring the sharp pangs of pain throughout his body and the overwhelming tiredness, and took a few happy steps.

Trip felt the movement and looked over at him. "Would you look at that," he said, watching his friend. "Baby's first steps," he said with a laugh.

Malcolm just chuckled good-naturedly as he lowered himself gingerly to the ground, placing the blanket over his body happily.

Trip pulled the cover over himself even higher so all that stuck out into the cold night air was his head, the stormy wind ruffling his hair in every direction and tinting his cheeks red. He closed his eyes again in an attempt to stave off the dizzy spell that came over him suddenly. The bandages around his chest seemed to get tighter with each breath he took, constricting his lungs until he felt like he was drowning. Trip fought the sensation, knowing it was just all in his head, and he could beat it.

"I don't suppose you've got any food in that magical backpack of yours, do you? I'm starved," Trip said, his voice hazy in his effort to control the pain.

Malcolm thought for a second and then rummaged in the backpack, pushing aside various objects until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a portion of something long and brown that looked rather unappealing, and held it out to Trip.

Trip scrutinized it with a disgusted look on his handsome face. "What in the hell is that?" he asked, not bothering to hide his revulsion.

"Emergency rations," Malcolm answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I understand that, but what is it, "Trip asked impatiently.

"I'm actually not quite sure," Malcolm replied honestly, tearing the long brown bar in half. "But if you'd rather, I'm sure that your friends down there could help you hunt for something a bit more exotic," he said sarcastically, taking a bite of his half of the food.

Trip peered over the edge and saw the same six pairs of eyes that had looked up at Malcolm earlier now staring steadily back at him. Trip straightened slowly and looked over at Malcolm again, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'd ask 'em, but they don't look like the sharin' type," he said, taking the food from Malcolm's hand and taking a bite. "You know," he said thoughtfully after swallowing, "minus the injuries, the freezin' cold, the lack of a fire, marshmallows or a tent, and disregardin' the brush with death earlier, this is kinda like campin'."

Malcolm shot him a look that clearly communicated his disagreement as he rubbed his hands together underneath the blanket to keep himself warm. "Is that so? He asked noncommittally, watching as his breath came out in a white puff, and then disappeared.

"Well, sure!" Trip exclaimed cheerfully. "All you really need is a good buddy, and a clear view of the sky," he said, lifting his gaze to the stars above.

"Have you always been this irrepressibly optimistic in dire situations, Mr. Tucker?" Malcolm asked, though he felt a smile tug at his lips.

"When it is darkest, you can see the stars," Trip intoned solemnly, his eyes tracing the various constellations and clusters above them.

"Ralph Waldo Emerson?" Malcolm asked, unable to conceal the amazement in his voice. "You know of him?"

"I guess all the Superman comic books were checked out of the library that day," Trip shot back sarcastically, teasingly referring to a comment Malcolm made some time ago about Trip probably only having read comic books and no real works of literature.

"Touché'," Malcolm replied as he raised his hands in surrender and laughed.

Trip grinned back, and drummed his fingers against his good knee. He leaned back and closed his eyes, as with another bout of dizziness washed over him, along with a sudden wave of exhaustion. The howling of the wind and the savageness of the storm should have deterred him from thoughts of sleep, but for some strange reason he found the wildness of the weather to be almost comforting at the moment. Even the biting cold seemed to be a strange invitation of slumber. He yawned, though the immense intake of breath hurt his ribs, and shifted under the blanket slightly.

Malcolm, attentive and observant as always, caught Trip's yawn immediately. "You should get a few hours of sleep before morning, Sir," he suggested.

Trip forced his eyes open and looked at his subordinate. Malcolm's eyes had dark circles under them, and the man looked exhausted, but Trip knew he was far too proud to ever admit it. Trip reluctantly straightened again as gently as possible, and fixed what he hoped was an awake and alert look on his friend.

"I thought I was goin' to die of hypothermia if I fell asleep?" Trip jested pleasantly.

"Well if you start to look like you're about to become deceased, I'll consider waking you up," Malcolm said sardonically, his efforts at appearing serious failing.

"Now there's a faithful Officer," Trip joked, an amused look on his face. "But I'm not really tired, why don't you get some sleep instead? And then I can be the one considerin' whether to wake you up or not, if I feel like it."

"You're exhausted, Commander," Malcolm pointed out.

"As are you, Malcolm, you don't hide it as well as you think you do," Trip said, just as sharply.

"I still recommend that you sleep a little, you might look a little less banged up for when we have to see the Captain tomorrow."

Trip grimaced at the thought, and ran a hand through his hair, though he immediately brought the hand back under the warmth of the blanket a few seconds later. "I can't say I'm lookin' forward to the chewin' out he's gonna give us," Trip said with a sigh.

"I doubt he'll put us together for away missions again anytime soon," Malcolm agreed lightly, though he was genuinely a little concerned about what Archer's reaction was going to be. He didn't want to be a concern or liability for the Captain, and he surely did not want Archer to believe that he was incapable or under qualified for any missions.

"We sure do seem to get in a lot of trouble," Trip said with a laugh. "But c'mon, despite the injuries, the potential hypothermia, the grief we cause the Cap'n, and the fact that we can't go anywhere without somethin' goin' wrong, we're damn good at keepin' things interestin'."

"That's a good way of putting it, Sir, though I doubt the Captain will see things your way," Malcolm responded.

"Probably not, but he does have to admit that we make a good team," Trip replied good-naturedly. "The Cap'n believes that I'm reckless and don't think things through sufficiently, and he thinks you're overcautious enough for two people. Put us together and you get an almost perfectly balanced Officer!"

Malcolm laughed his quiet chuckle and shook his head. "You're right about that one, Trip," he said, "and I think the Captain might subconsciously know it, though he wouldn't want to admit that."

"I wasn't goin' to point it out 'cause I didn't want to make you self-conscious or anythin', but you just actually called me by my name," Trip said, self-satisfaction in his voice.

Malcolm paused a bit, and re-played his own comment in his head. "I suppose I did," he said slowly and a little awkwardly. It didn't feel like the breach of protocol that he would have expected, instead it felt normal, as if he had just simply addressed a friend instead of a superior officer.

"See Malcolm, you're good at blowin' shit up, and I'm good at winnin' people over," Trip said in a jokingly cocky tone of voice.

"It appears that way," Malcolm said simply, but he knew it was true. Trip was the person he felt closest to on the ship, though he never would have guessed that would happen. They had strikingly opposite personalities most of the times, and their opinions usually clashed, causing them to argue often. And yet for some reason Malcolm couldn't fathom, they were great friends.

Trip seemed to know what he was thinking, and he smiled knowingly. The two friends spent the rest of the early morning hours in alternating moments of comfortable silence, arguments, and jokes.

When the storm finally let up and the sun broke through, it shone with the intensity of a summer's day. The two men looked up to a sapphire sky brimming with birds and other indigenous creatures that sparkled with colors plucked directly from a rainbow.

And when Trip's communicator buzzed to life, and Jonathon Archer's voice crackled on the other side, Trip could barely contain a smile even though the Captain sounded worried and irate. Malcolm, on the other hand, snapped to attention as surely as if Archer had suddenly appeared next to him.

"Trip, are you and Malcolm all right?" Archer asked, sounding for all in the world like an exasperated and concerned father.

"We're fine, Cap'n," Trip answered, looking down at the injuries he and Malcolm had sustained.

"That means we're bringing a medical team on the shuttlepod," Archer answered, and Malcolm could hear a bit of humor creeping into his voice now that he was assured that they were generally in one piece.

"You know us too well, Cap'n," Trip responded, too cheeky to even try to sound sheepish.

"You're going to have to deal with T'Pol's version of an "I-told-you-so" speech upon coming back to Enterprise, and my own as well," Archer said. Though he was serious and still rather angry because he had worried all night about his two Officers, he couldn't help smiling a little.

"Wouldn't miss it," Trip said with a smirk, rolling his eyes at Malcolm. "Oh and you might want to bring some climbin' gear when you come get us, by the way" Trip added suddenly, if a bit vague.

Archer paused on the other line, and the two Officers could hear him sigh. Trip could just imagine Archer closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "We've locked on to your location; we'll be there in a few minutes."

"Understood," Trip responded.

Trip turned the communicator off, and looked over the ledge where the beasts had stayed. They were gone, having retreated to shelter where they would most likely rest for the day until they came out at night again.

"Even the beasts don't want to be around when the Cap'n chews us out," Trip said with a snort.

"Smart," Malcolm agreed as he started to pack the blankets and medical kit back into his tiny backpack.

"If it'll make you feel better for gettin' into trouble with the Cap'n, I can tell him that you're an exceptionally well-prepared Boy Scout," Trip teased.

Malcolm shot him a glare, and would have playfully swatted his friend in the shoulder if not for the man's injuries. "Come on," Malcolm said, putting the backpack down, "let me at least help you stand up. It will buy us a few seconds of time before the Captain kills you for getting yourself injured on a simple away mission." Malcolm leaned down and placed Trip's good arm over his shoulder.

"You didn't do much better, you know," Trip bantered, biting his lip hard as Malcolm gently helped him onto his feet. "You managed to get yourself temporarily paralyzed, and knocked unconscious, you know." He swayed on his good foot dizzily, but he smiled.

"I had a pretty good track record of avoiding trouble before meeting you," Malcolm said, steadying Trip carefully.

"Ah, and that's why your life was borin'," Trip shot back with a wince. He looked over the ledge they had taken refuge on and out into the morning sky. The land looked so harmless and pure, with greens and oranges that sparkled in a perfection that seemed almost unreal. It was hard to believe that at nighttime, that land was riddled with dangerous creatures and debilitating storms.

A small object appeared just over the horizon, and the two men glanced at each other in anticipation. It was the shuttlepod, coming to take them home.

End!