T'Pol had come to give the final report on the planet they were calling Sharu, from the Zheiren name for it. All evidence of human involement had been erased, leaving only the memories of those who had actually witnessed Lt. Reed and Ensign Sato. The virus had caused havoc to both Buftanis's and Zheiren's government computer networks. And explosives had taken care of any physical evidence. Captain Archer thought Malcolm would have liked that.

T'Pol reported that the combined attacks in both countries had put on hold their mutual hostilities. Buftanis did blame Zheirin for provoking the 'aliens' by trying to execute one of them. But otherwise, they both recognized an alien threat that they were woefully unprepared to stop. Only Enterprise knew there would be no further attacks. Maybe the two countries would figure out it was best to get along by the time they realized that there was no invasion coming. T'Pol also suggested setting a buoy to warn passing ships of the chronoton pulse. Captain Archer agreed.

Malcolm, it seemed, had become even more a mystery to him in the last hour, and the captain wanted to get someone's take on what he'd learned from Hoshi's parents. "Hoshi believes Malcolm is dead and that we left him behind on Sharu," he told her. "She's in love with him."

One eyebrow on T'Pol's otherwise expressionless face rose slightly. "That could explain her grief and anger."

Archer stood and paced a few steps. "But it doesn't explain how. Her parents thought she was with this man until the end, and that Hoshi witnessed his death. She hadn't seen Malcolm for eleven months, and the months down there are longer than ours."

"That is a dilemma," T'Pol commented, "but one easily solved, once she is willing to communicate with us. But that presents another dilemma."

Archer nodded. "Do we tell her he's alive on the other side of Sickbay to only tell her that he has died an hour or so later?"

"Or do we wait until we are sure he will survive and tell her then?" T'Pol said, supplying the other side of the dilemma.

Archer fell back into his chair. "Six hours. It's been six hours and he's still alive." He still had trouble believing it.

"Doctor Phlox is giving him oxygen," she pointed out. "While not sustaining his life, it is giving him a 'boost' as Trip stated it. So there is a growing possibility of his survival."

"Which leaves us our dilemma," Archer concluded.

"If she were Vulcan, I would advocate telling her the truth," T'Pol stated. "As she is not, I fear for her emotional and mental state were she to be told he was alive only to have him die after all, doubling her grief."

"Add the post-traumatic stress disorder," Archer said, "and her sanity might be in doubt. What if we only told her we hadn't left him behind?"

"We risk her trust in her parents who shared what she revealed in confidence, and Ensign Sato would likely insist on seeing him."

Archer let out a long breath. "So we don't tell her until we know either way."

Malcolm twitched. Trip nearly jumped out of the chair. "Doc!" Malcolm kept flinching. His jaw clenched and his face grimaced.

Phlox came over. "Is he seizing again?" Trip asked him, fearing that was the case.

Phlox checked Malcolm's vitals. "I think he's remembering," he said solemnly, "on a subconscious level."

Trip's tired eyes went wide. "That's good!"

Phlox opened one of Malcolm's eyes and shined a light into it. "Depends how you look at it. A sign of recovery, yes. Tilting more in the direction of survival. But for him, he's reliving it. These aren't good memories, Commander. And he can't just wake up. He's still unconscious."

Trip's elation fell. And he remembered times when he was traumatized. Like when his sister was killed. His mind could think one thing and his body would feel or do something else. His hands would shake when he wasn't even thinking about her. He'd tell himself he had work to do and that he could control his hands. But he couldn't. They just kept shaking. Maybe it was like that for Malcolm, only backwards. "Can you help him sleep?"

"Too risky at this point." Phlox tilted Malcolm's head to the side. "No sunburn here," he said. He took some tape and taped down the tube that ran under Malcolm's nose and past his ears. "Wouldn't want this to come loose. Keep reading, or talk to him. You may reach him yet."

Trip nodded and then failed to suppress a deep yawn.

"Or perhaps you need a break," Phlox suggested. Just then the doors to Sickbay opened and T'Pol joined them at Malcolm's bed. Her left eyebrow raised when she took in the twitching, grimacing Malcolm Reed. "Perhaps I can sit with him for awhile," she suggested.

Phlox smiled. "Perhaps you could do more than that."

"You think he would benefit from a mind meld?" she asked.

"It is possible you could let him know he's safe," Phlox replied.

Trip held his breath. She didn't feel comfortable with mind melds, but he hoped she'd agree. Maybe she could help him wake up.

She stepped closer to the bed. She took a deep breath and placed her fingers gently on Malcolm's face. She closed her eyes. "My mind to your mind. Your mind to my mind."

Trip waited anxiously.

Then she gasped.

The pain, the horror, the fear were so strong that they hit her like a tidal wave. She was the one being staked in the desert sun. It took all her effort to push past these memories to seek the unconscious mind of Malcolm Reed. The horror subsided and the memories flitted across her mind. A console, flickering to life with controls reading Audio I and Audio II . . ., Hoshi's voice whispering in his ear as they held hands, comforting each other. Her voice meeting his in an empty room. Deeper, past the memories,and then everything went black and silent. She tried calling out to him. Her voice echoed, as if in a cavern. There was no answer.

T'Pol pulled back, tried to focus on those memories of Hoshi, wrapped in sheets, her face dipped behind her hair, the softest of whispers. The tapping of Morse code in each other's hands. The strange console, Hoshi's voice. She saw them, felt these memories, and she felt the physical body of Malcolm Reed as it calmed. The images became clearer, the snatches of moments longer. And she realized how Hoshi had grown to love him, and how he had loved her back. And why Hoshi thought he was dead.

She broke contact and was gratified to see Lt. Reed lying calmly in the bed. "I helped him find better memories," she said. "But he's still lost. No thought, no consciousness."

Trip touched her cheek. "You're crying."

T'Pol took a deep breath to steady herself and release Malcolm's emotions from her. "Hoshi believes he is dead," she told them. "She believes that because he told her good-bye."

Trip shook his head in confusion. "But they weren't anywhere near each other."

T'Pol felt more centered, more herself. "No," she agreed, "they weren't." She turned to Phlox. "Doctor, may I speak with you privately."

"Of course," Phlox replied. He led her to his office.

"Is it possible for humans to be telepathic?"

That took the doctor by surprise. "Telepathic?" he repeated. "Well, yes, theoretically, and there have been some cases of humans who claimed to be psychic and even telekinetic, though they are rare and, mostly, unsubstantiated. Are you suggesting Hoshi is a telepath?"

T'Pol nodded. "Or Lieutenant Reed. One or both of them must be. The ensign has proven receptive to telepathic communication in the past."

"While Lt. Reed has not," Phlox pointed out.

"And yet," T'Pol said. "I found something to suggest that he is." Another flicker of shared memory came to mind. Trip's voice. 'We're not there yet.' "At least on a subconscious level, he knows about the time travel."

Phlox was silent for a moment. "So he would be the telepath?"

"They spoke often, even at the end," she said. "They discussed her plan."

"Her plan to kill herself?" Phlox gave a humph. "That explains a lot. She's grieving. We could tell her he's alive."

"Will he remain so?" she countered. "And would she believe us anyway? She may rely upon that telepathic link. She would trust him more than us. In her mind, we left them on that planet."

She let him ponder the dilemma for a moment. "The captain had decided that we should not tell her until his fate is decided. And doctor, unless either of them confirms this, this is only a hypothesis at this time. If it is correct, I do not believe Mr. Reed would wish it widely known."

Phlox nodded. "No, he likely would not."

Malcolm was nothing but blackness. He had no thoughts, no conceptions, no realizations. His body breathed; his heart pumped. But he was unaware, floating in nothingness that he might have thought was death, if he could think. He was nothing.

But after three days, there was a prickling at the edges of him. It intensified and deepened until it was at his center. Pain. Not so much a conscious thought but a subconscious realization. Outwardly, he tensed and his brows pulled down slightly over his eyes. A machine he didn't hear beeped a little faster with his pulse.

An hour or so later--What was time to him?--he realized the pain was in his chest and in his hands. An image crashed in him: a long metal stake pressing into his wrist, pain searing through his arm like an unending electric shock. His own scream deafened him. His breath hitched and his fingers twitched slightly as Trip held his hand.

For hours, he relived what he didn't realize was behind him. Flashes of the last year warred with the torment of his last day and a half, until, finally, to escape it all, he opened his eyes.

The desert disappeared. The glaring lights and sounds of the lab did not. The machine was beeping above his head, keeping him alive again. He was alive. He blinked. Saruman approached his bed and Malcolm stopped breathing. A hand reached for his face from the other side. It turned his head until he saw a familiar face, a human face. Trip.

Malcolm opened his mouth but he had no breath to speak. He pulled in a painful breath and asked, in a hourse whisper, "Where--are--we?"

Trip touched Malcolm's arm. "We're in Sickbay--."

Malcolm pulled his arm away with a jerk. Another breath seared his chest. "Where--the--ship?" He was afraid of the answer. "We're not there yet," Malcolm remembered Trip saying.

"Malcolm, we haven't left. Not yet. We're right where we were before the shuttlepod crashed."

Crashed? Nearly forgotten memories forced themselves into his mind: pain in his head and arm. Hoshi holding her side. Moody broken and disemboweled at the rear of the shuttlepod. But so much time had passsed. It didn't make sense.

Still, it wasn't the dreams that he had withheld from Hoshi. The ones from the past. And with that realization came another: Hoshi.

"Hoshi," he breathed out loud.

"She's here," Trip told him. "We got her. She's okay."

But Malcolm had heard her voice in his head like before. "Malcolm!" she called. With a jolt, he saw through her eyes. Bandaged, she was struggling from her bed.

He pulled in another breath. "No," he told Trip. "She's--not."

Trip's expression showed confusion, but Malcolm couldn't be bothered with that. Not now. She was near. She was alive. She was in pain. "Help--her."

There was a crash sound across the room. She'd fallen. Trip stood up and rushed over to see her. His eyelids were heavy but he forced them open.

Finally, she was there. Her hair was longer, her face bruised. Phlox was holding her up but she reached for him with her good arm. Trip came back and pulled his chair over for her as Phlox lowered her into it.

And then she was beside him, and he forgot about Phlox and Trip, about the pain, the sounds around them. There was only her face, her voice, her touch.

"You said goodbye."

I thought I had died, he thought back to her. It took so much less effort. I couldn't hear you anymore.

She touched his face and he lifted his hand to hold hers. His fingers wouldn't work right but hers did, and she pulled his hand to her face as she cried. After a moment, her voice came back to his mind. "I must look terrible."

No, he reassured her. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life.

"I love you!" She began to cry again.

The heaviness returned to his eyes and he cursed it. I love you, Hoshi Sato. I--. His thought broke. Her face began to fade. But not her hand. Not yet.

She made an audible sound, but he heard Phlox assure her. "He just needs to rest."

Then the tiredness was engulfing him and it was too hard to resist. The last thing he realized before the darkness covered him was her face lightly touching his, her hair brushing against his cheek.

Trip had stepped back to give them the privacy they obviously wanted. Hoshi still didn't speak, but neither did Malcolm even try. But the way they acted made it very clear that they cared for each other very deeply. He met T'Pol at the counter as Phlox went to assure Hoshi that Malcolm was just going under thanks to his pain meds. He pulled back the curtain and helped her into the next bed over.

"What just happened?" he asked T'Pol.

"To what are you referring?"

"To her knowing to come over," he replied. "To him knowing she was hurt. To both not saying a word."

"It is not for me to say," T'Pol said. "I should prepare a presentation to explain the chronoton pulse and our tardiness in retrieving them from the planet." She turned and left Sickbay.

She knew something. She probably got something in the mind meld to clue her in. She hadn't told him anything then either. But she had talked to Phlox. Trip thought about guilting him, but the doctor was busy getting Hoshi settled in the new bed and examining Malcolm.

Trip sighed and decided he should give the captain the news that Malcolm had woken up.

The captain was on the Bridge. So was Travis and Carstairs and one of Malcolm's tactical officers. They all looked up at him intently. They all knew he was going to stay with Malcolm until he passed. Trip decided to put them all at ease. "He woke up. He even asked where the ship was."

Travis cheered. A few of the others clapped. Archer stood up. "That's great news, Trip." He motioned the younger man toward his Ready Room. Trip followed.

Trip waited until the door was closed. "It was the darndest thing. He barely breathed 'Hoshi' and she nearly fell out of her bed to get to him. And neither one said a word to each other. They held hands, touched each other's faces, but not a word."

Archer sighed. "She loves him. She told her parents that the man she loved had died. She meant Malcolm. She was grieving for him."

"Makes sense now," Trip said. "But how? They were opposite sides of the planet. You'd think they'd have a lot to talk about."

Archer shook his head. "I don't get it either. But I think he must love her, too. 'Save Hoshi,' he said in the message. That was important to him."

"And he asked about her when we found him," Trip admitted. "Twice. Once in the sand once in the ship just before he--" He stopped. He hated that memory.

"They were together after the crash," Archer suggested. "Maybe it happened then. Is Phlox certain then? Is he out of danger?"

"He was busy," Trip replied, taking a seat. "But I think, realistically, Malcolm's condition didn't magically improve just because he woke up." He sighed. "I suppose it's just more likely now that he'll keep surviving. And he can have a say in whether or not to use life support."

Archer nodded. "I should really give his parents a call. You'd think I'd be looking forward to it."

"Better you than me," Trip said. "I'm not sure I could keep my temper in check."

"Maybe I should see Malcolm first," Archer stated, standing. "He may want to talk to them."

"No good," Trip responded. "Malcolm's out again. Pain meds. You're stuck with the parents."

Archer fell back into his seat. He took a big breath then reached for his communications console. "Tell Travis to get under way."

Trip suddenly yawned hard and long.

"And then get some sleep, Trip," Archer added. "That's an order."

Trip looked well-rested the next morning. Malcolm's awakening had probably made that easier for him, Archer guessed. It confirmed his hope that Malcolm would survive. And while it did that for Archer himself, it didn't alleviate his anxiety enough to allow for a restful sleep. Because this morning, he would be explaining to Malcolm and Hoshi why they had been seemingly left to suffer those long months on Sharu.

At least he didn't have to face their glares alone. Hoshi's was alert and fierce. Malcolm's was sleepier but discernable. They were angry and, from their point of view, they had every right to be.

Malcolm looked better. His skin was still burnt and pale--an odd combination. But the fact that he could tense muscles that had been limp and loose before gave his face a healthier look.

Hoshi looked a lot better. Gone were the tears and that mask of grief. She'd combed her hair and cleaned herself up. For Malcolm, he assumed. Not for them.

T'Pol stood beside Archer, ready to explain the technical details. Archer, though, tried to start with some very sincere pleasantries. "I am so glad to see you awake, Malcolm. And, Hoshi, we're all glad you're willing to communicate. We have a lot to explain."

Malcolm took a few difficult--and apparently painful--breaths. "Why--did you--leave us?" His voice was rough and only a few shades above a whisper.

Hoshi squeezed his arm but kept her glare squarely on the captain.

Archer took a steadying breath. "Can I first ask you about Lt. Moody? Did he survive the crash?"

Hoshi shook her head after a moment. Archer sensed she had more to say about that but he decided it could wait until they were stronger. "Thank you. Malcolm, Hoshi, we never left. A few minutes after the shuttlepod left, it disappeared. It took us a few hours to realize what had happened. But we never left. T'Pol?"

T'Pol stepped forward with a PADD. "The shuttlepod encountered a chroniton pulse." She pulled up a graph on the PADD. "The pulse had many of the same characteristics as the energy emanating from Crewman Daniels' quarters. The shuttlepod likely lost control and crashed on the surface of the planet. But it did so approximately one year before it left this ship." She pulled up a graphic showing the projected arc of the shuttlepod trajectory with time stamps showing its descent into the past.

"How?" Malcolm breathed. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Hoshi frowned and reached for the PADD.

"The chronoton energy disippated as you went, Malcolm," Trip explained. "The further you got from the point of contact with the pulse, the further back you went. That's when I realized the voice in the message was yours, Malcolm. The Morse Code said, 'Save Hoshi.'"

The glares were gone. In their places were stricken, horror-filled expressions. "I--did--" Malcolm started.

Archer cut him off. "This was not your fault, Malcolm. That message came when you were standing on the Bridge. However it happened, it happened. You couldn't have known. If anyone is to blame, it's me. If I had waited until we had more information. . . ."

T'Pol interrupted him. "Then they may have waited even longer for rescue, Captain. It is a paradox. If you didn't order the shuttlepod to retrieve the messenger, there would have been no message. But there was a message. It had already happened."

Archer sighed. He'd been over and over that paradox. "The end result is this: Although you experienced a year on that planet, you were only absent from this ship for a few days. When you crashed, we were still looking for the Xindi weapon. We weren't here to get you back."

Hoshi closed the information on the PADD then wrote something on it and held it out to them. Trip took it and read it out. "Why not rescue us as soon as you knew?"

Archer sighed again. "First, we had to find you. And we had to know we could get you out safely. I could not risk anyone else getting hit by that pulse."

"We found Lt. Reed first," T'Pol added. "I devised a virus to remove all computer records of your existence."

"I worked on a plan to get you out and destroy the physical evidence," Trip jumped in. "You were harder to find, Hoshi. We figured you were separated but we didn't know where they'd sent you until almost the last minute. Once we realized what they were doing to Malcolm, we knew we had to go. Malcolm, it might make you feel a bit better to know we blew up about half of that lab."

"And the one in Buftanis, Hoshi," Archer added. "I'm sorry we couldn't get you sooner. I really am. We almost lost both of you. We lost Moody but at least he didn't have to endure what you both went through. It's a lot to take in. We'll leave the PADD if you have any more questions."

A lot to take in was an understatement, Malcolm thought. A year that lasted only a few days? The horrific last few days since he sent that message with the communicator. The message that got Bayzhoo killed. If he hadn't done it, would they have even crashed?

"I don't know what to feel," Hoshi thought to him. "I still feel angry but I feel guilty for feeling it."

I had dreams, he admitted to her now. Recurring dreams. I was here on Enterprise at different times in the past. Someone always said, 'We're not there yet, Malcolm.' It nearly drove me mad. Did I know somehow?

"Did you know we could do this?" she asked. "Share our thoughts, our senses?"

Never in my wildest dreams.

"But it was there," she argued gently. "The ability. Maybe you had a subconscious sense of it, that we weren't in the right time."

So I'm psychic, too?

"Would it have changed anything for us?" she asked as she softly stroked his face. "Knowing? Would it have been any different?"

That was the question, Malcolm realized. And how did it change things now that they knew for real?

Trip was able to sleep again that night. But before he slept, he spent a lot of time thinking about Malcolm and Hoshi, about what they might feel like now that they knew. They had not really even shown that they were happy to be rescued, but he figured that was there somewhere. They were extremely happy to be together. That much was obvious. But the anger was gone, or at least muddled with the realization that there had been no hope when they had hoped, and only hope when they had none left. How long had it taken for that hope to die? And what had given Malcolm just enough to transmit it in the message? There was so much left of their stories. But there was one thing that Trip was really curious about, and he decided to ask Malcolm about it the next day.

Hoshi felt she was in a tornado of emotions and some of them didn't fit anymore. Enterprise hadn't left them behind, but she couldn't let go of the anger and feelings of betrayal though she tried. Seeing Malcolm awake and alive flooded her with relief and joy. Being near him, touching him was a luxury she had given up believing she'd ever have again. She didn't want to die anymore. She wanted to dance, to lay beside him, to take some of his pain on herself.

He looked terrible and often dropped back into unconsciousness, but he was alive. And that he was there beside her made him the most glorious thing she had ever seen. Hope rekindled in her. Hope that he would get better and that they'd have a life together going forward. She never wanted to be apart from him again.

He was sleeping now. And she was left alone to the lights and sounds of Sickbay. They were familiar, and she tried to draw comfort from that. But she felt a fear building in her now. She slept, but in her dreams Radagast was coming for her and taking her back to the operating room in Zheiren. She could hear the doctors as they discussed her anatomy and feel the pain of every incision. She could not scream and she could not wake herself up.

"Hoshi?" a familiar voice interrupted the doctors. "Come with me."

She trusted that voice and the pain left her. The doctors left her. She found herself standing in a near-barren landscape, mostly sand with a few bits of shallow scrub. "It's the best I could do," Malcolm said. "It's not the lab and not Enterprise. It's before things got really bad."

He looked wonderful. There was a gash on his forehead and his arm was in a sling, but he was clean-shaven and otherwise healthy. "I like it here," she told him. "You're here."

"I'll stay as long as I can," he said. "I want you to have good dreams."

Captain Archer found himself feeling sorry for Malcolm again. He had contacted Mr. and Mrs. Reed again and found them less than enthusiastic for their son's survival. They even questioned if their wishes had been followed. Archer tried to remain diplomatic but it was hard. "We did remove him from life support," he assured them. "He just didn't die. He is still in critical condition but he is awake and communicating."

He thought he saw a flicker of relief in Mrs. Reed's face. He saw no emotion at all in Stuart Reed's expression. When they didn't respond, he asked if they'd like to talk to their son.

"That won't be necessary, Captain," Stuart Reed said. "We'll inform his sister. Good day." And the screen went blank.

Archer wished they'd stop informing his sister. Hoshi had spoken with her a few years ago, and she had seemed warm and well, emotional. Archer wondered if the elder Reeds cared for their son at all.

Trip managed to see to his duties in the morning, but it was after lunch now and he wanted to visit Malcolm. He had some questions. He was surprised to see that Hoshi wasn't in the next bed. "Where's Hoshi?" Trip asked as he pulled a chair over to Malcolm's bed.

Malcolm took a breath, then replied in brief, "Shower."

Trip was actually relieved for the opportunity to pry for a bit without Hoshi there. "Malcolm, when you woke up, she knew. She'd been over there a couple of days grieving your death apparently with no idea you were lyin' here unconscious. And when she did realize and came over here, neither of you breathed a word. There's something different going on. You told us to save her. Like you knew where she was or that she needed saving. She could have been dead for all you should have known given your distance from her. Something's going on."

Malcolm's face blushed a slightly deeper red, and he took in a shaky breath. "They cut my head."

"Yeah," Trip replied, quietly. "Phlox gave us the highlights."

"After," Malcolm said. His next words were halting and barely louder than a whisper. "I thought, 'Hoshi, I'm glad--you're not here.' She answered."

Trip's eyebrows shot up at the realization. "They cut your head open and now you can communicate by thinking?"

Another breath. "Thought I was crazy." He paused and grimaced a bit at some pain he must have felt, and Trip felt bad about making him talk this much. "But it was better--than being alone."

Trip sat back. "Wow! So that's how you spoke all those languages."

Malcolm nodded lightly.

"Can you do that with anyone?"

Malcolm shook his head.

"How do you know?" Trip asked. "Have you tried?"

"Easier," Malcolm said between breaths, "than talking."

"Oh," Trip sighed. "Yeah, I can see how it might be. Sorry about that. I'll try not to make you talk much." He decided to change the subject. "There was a dead one. In the room with the communicator."

"Bayzhoo," Malcolm replied. He sounded sad.

"He gave it to you?" Trip asked and Malcolm nodded. "His friend was a guard. He showed us the room, and where to find you. Why'd Bayzhoo do it, do ya think? It obviously didn't go over well."

"Was my friend," Malcolm said.

Trip put a hand on Malcolm's arm. "I'm glad you had one, Malcolm." And he meant it. He didn't think he could ever have come out sane from a year alone, especially one so hellish. But Malcolm had had Hoshi and this Bayszhoo, who cared enough to commit a treasonous act on Malcolm's behalf.

Trip decided a lighter topic. "I've been reading The Lord of the Rings to you. Seemed fitting. I was hoping you could hear it."

Malcolm shook his head, but said, "You can read."

Malcolm listened to the familiar story, and, as he lay quietly, he could almost manage to not feel pain if he didn't breathe too deeply. But something else buzzed at the edges of his awareness: an uneasiness of place. Sickbay didn't look like any of the rooms he'd been in in the lab, but it was, among other things, a lab. And while he could logically understand that his present location was a good thing--a step up in the universe--a long-repressed and thoroughly illogical need to be somewhere, anywhere else was creeping in on him.

Listening to the story Trip read helped him step outside his own body and self and get lost in Middle-Earth for a time. That helped to keep the uneasiness at bay. And in another part of his mind, he shared with Hoshi the wonders of a warm-water shower and soft towels to dry off.

After an hour in which Hoshi had returned with wet hair falling down around her shoulders, Trip cleared his throat. "That's about all I can manage right now. I'll need to get back to Engineering now that we're underway."

Malcolm didn't want him to stop. He needed the escape the book provided.

"I'll take it," Hoshi said between clenched teeth.

Trip smiled as he must have figured she wouldn't read it out loud. Malcolm realized now that Trip may find his abilities too interesting to keep to himself. He imagined various Enterprise gawkers coming to pester him to do parlor tricks or tell them what they were thinking. Or worse yet, to come and stare at him. Like Bayzhoo's friend had through the window in the door.

He moved a hand to block Trip from leaving. He had to take deeper breaths in order to push words past his vocal cords, and that stirred up the pain in his chest. But it was important. "I don't want to be a freak show."

Trip shook his head and placed Malcolm's arm back on the bed. "I won't share your secret, Malcolm. I can't say that no one else will figure it out, especially Dr. Phlox or T'Pol. She did a mind meld with you after all. But I will respect your privacy."

Trip walked over and handed the book to Hoshi. "You told him?" Malcolm heard her think to him.

He guessed, he replied. Trip waved and then left. We were a bit too obvious it seems.

"Can he hear you?"

No, It would seem this is a secure channel after all.

T'Pol brought the lieutenant's meal as she had been since his condition had become favorable to eating solid foods. She was familiar with him enough to know that he would not feel comfortable being fed, even though he had the use of only two fingers of each hand. She realized that as a Vulcan, she was the best person for the task. Her repressed emotions meant the lieutenant would not see any pity in her expressions or in her actions. It had helped to put him at ease. He had even asked her to bring an extra set of silverware so he could practice holding them with the fingers he could move.

She had waited for him to ask her about the mind meld but he had not once brought it up. As he finished his meal and held the cup with his drink in both hands, she decided that it was time. "Are you concerned about what I saw and heard during the mind meld?"

"Who have you told?" His voice was weak, but she could sense a note of hostility nonetheless.

"Only Dr. Phlox," she replied. "I witnessed memories, no consciousness. They were painful memories at first, but I found better--pleasant--memories and sifted them out. You were unconscious but in a troubled state. It helped to calm you."

Reed relaxed now. "So you know how we talked."

"Yes, though I was uncertain as to which of you had the ability."

"When they cut my head," the lieutenant said. He paused for a breath. "It just happened."

"I believe it happened before that," she told him. "Though perhaps in a different form."

Reed took in a deeper breath and winced from the pain. He looked at Hoshi then back to T'Pol. "The dreams?"

T'Pol nodded.

"They were infuriating," Reed said, finally betraying his emotions with the rolling of his eyes.

"'We're not there yet, Lieutenant,'" T'Pol recited.

Reed seethed. "Someone always said that."

"When you pleaded for us to come and rescue you both," T'Pol added.

He nodded but stayed silent. After a few minutes, he said, "I didn't know."

"Not on a conscious level, it would seem," she confirmed for him. "I do believe the captain should be informed."

"Of the dreams?"

T'Pol began to order the tray of now empty dishes. "The dreams, Lieutenant, are of no consequence. They change nothing. Though, perhaps you could learn to 'trust your gut', as they say, more deeply. But I speak of your telepathy. It would answer many questions."

He offered her a barely perceptible nod. "But no one else."

T'Pol nodded back. "Understood. I shall leave you," she nodded toward Hoshi, "to your discussions."

One week had passed since he had awakened. Seven days where the monotony was only broken by the visits from Trip and having Hoshi beside him. The captain and a few others had stopped by occasionally. Some of the MACOs had asked for an accounting of Moody's death. Travis had updated them on the scuttlebutt circulating the ship. But no one asked him if he was spying on their thoughts or even looked at him askance. Malcolm had to admit that T'Pol and Trip had been true to their words. Only Trip ever asked him about his abilities. And it was getting easier bit by bit to trust him enough to give him real answers.

And now Hoshi was leaving. She was being released to her quarters.

"I could stay, Malcolm," she told him, silently as they were accustomed to do.

I know what it's like for you here, he reminded her. I feel it, too. It's too much like where we were.

"It's easier together," she argued.

He agreed. It is. But if you go, then one of us will be free of this place, and you can share it with me.

"You're sure?"

Trip entered just then. "Are you ready, Hoshi?" he asked brightly. "Doc said I could escort you to your quarters."

I'm sure, he assured her. You showed me sky in the lab and snow in the desert. If we can manage that, I think we can manage a deck or two.

She nodded then and turned to Trip. "I'm ready," she said through her still-wired jaws. She stood and Trip held out an arm to catch her waist.

"We can take it as slow as you need," he told her. "I'll be by later, Malcolm. I'll bet you're going stir-crazy in here."

"Sadly," Malcolm said, and it was getting a little easier to talk, "I'm quite used to that by now."

Hoshi took one look back and Malcolm gave her a smile. It wasn't easy. He knew he'd told her the truth. What was a few decks compared to half a planet? But still his heart was breaking to watch her leave.

"Let's stop here first," Hoshi said, indicating the door they were about to pass.

"Malcolm's quarters?" Trip asked.

"I want him to see," she replied. She was getting so tired of talking though her stabilized jaws. Phlox said it would only be for another week.

Trip shrugged and keyed open the door. He stepped in, and then lifted her through it. She only remembered being in here one other time, and it made her smile. She had stood topless in his doorway, after her shirt had been snagged in the crawlspace above the corridor. The look on his face was priceless, and she had to tell him to grab her a T-shirt before he could even move.

Do you remember? she asked him.

"I did as you asked, and was a proper gentleman thereafter."

Yes, she admitted, you were. She looked around, from the neatly made bed to the perfectly ordered desk. She took a step toward the desk, and Trip helped her into the chair there. Can you see?

He was silent but she could feel that he was there. Finally, he replied, "It's surreal. Nothing's changed. But it's only been a week or two, so it's perfectly reasonable that nothing's changed."

"And it feels like it shouldn't be the same," she said, and she realized she'd said that thought out loud.

"That's gotta be a bit incongruous," Trip said. He sat on the end of Malcolm's bunk.

She sat for a moment with the raw non-verbal thoughts Malcolm was going through in his mind. When he spoke, she shared his words with Trip, "It's a comfort, but also seems unreal."

"Like a dream," she added for herself. "We'll wake up and it will all be changed."

"Maybe it will get better each day it doesn't," Trip offered. "Eventually, you'll stop feeling like you're in the wrong time. The routines of life will become mundane and you'll just fit."

"Go," Malcolm told her. "You need to do this for yourself."

I'm not sure I want to, she told him.

"He's right. Each day it doesn't wink out of existence, it will feel more solid. Go get started on that in your quarters. Thank you for showing me mine."

Hoshi stood. She sighed, then said, "Let's go."

Trip stood and helped her through the door back out into the corridor, and they travelled in silence until they reached her quarters. Hoshi used her good arm to key it open and Trip lifted her through. She led him to her bed and sat down, purposely keeping her eyes on the floor. "Thank you," she said. "You can go."

Trip took a step back. "If you need anything," he said, "let me know. Phlox said there will be a nurse by regularly to check on you."

Hoshi nodded then waited for him to leave before looking up. She was glad she'd had the preview to prepare. It was indeed surreal. Her quarters were exactly as she'd left them. The reality felt more real now. They had only been gone a week. But, then, there were two realities now. A year ago, she had been with the crew, searching for the Xindi and also crashing onto Sharu with Moody and Malcolm. Her quarters spoke for the first. Her aches and pains and wired jaw for the second.

She felt like two people, a copy of herself. A replacement for the original. The original left these quarters a couple of weeks ago. She never came back.

She, the copy, lay down on the bed. It felt soft, familiar. She reached up for her pillow and hugged it to herself. She lay that way for nearly an hour before she abruptly put the pillow down and used the edge of the bed for support to stand.

Copy or not, she had the memories of both. If the original Hoshi Sato wasn't coming back, then these quarters belonged to her, the copy. And maybe Malcolm was right. Maybe each day would get better. Maybe she and her former self would finally be just the one person again.

Besides, this Hoshi Sato had Malcolm. And as awful as the last year had been, she would be hard pressed to trade that. The Hoshi before might not ever have realized that she loved him.