Hoshi lay on her bed crying. Her quarters were too quiet. Her mind was too quiet in the way that mattered most and too noisy in ways she didn't want. She was back in Buftanis, separated from Malcolm by a hemisphere. He was dying in a desert, and she was sitting in the snow waiting to freeze to death.

Her door chimed and she didn't move to answer it. It opened anyway and Phlox stepped in. "Hoshi, I can see that you're upset. Would you care to talk to me?"

Hoshi took a shaky breath and sighed it out again. Then she sat up. "I can't hear him."

He came toward her. "He's unconscious," Phlox reminded her, "and perhaps too far away."

"I know, but it's too quiet."

"You're used to having him with you." Phlox sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "He had that gift for most of the year."

She sniffed and nodded. "I think I loved him before that," she told him. "Like I could look back and see all these times when he was good to me even before the crash. Years back. When that telepath contacted me, he took me seriously even when there was no evidence. After the Reptilians, he tried to keep the captain from pushing me too hard."

"It is possible he could look back too and find he loved you then."

That made her smile. But she sniffed. "What if it's all just the trauma we went through together? What if he gets better and finds he doesn't love me anymore?"

"Think of this last year in that light," Phlox suggested. "Does that ring true? Do you think if you heal enough, you will find you don't love him?"

"It wouldn't hurt this much if it weren't real," she answered after a few minutes.

"I have found that love can be very pleasant," he told her, "and equally as painful. Can we talk about why you tried to commit suicide?"

"You worried I might again?" She looked over at him, but he kept his expression even. "He was dying," she explained. "We didn't know Enterprise was coming. We gave up on that. There was no future there, except as a slave and a science project. I had nothing to live for except him."

Phlox nodded. "And now?"

"Now I know he's gone to Earth to get better. I can imagine a future for us."

"With any surgery, there is risk," he suggested. "If the worst should happen?"

"I don't even want to think of that," she sobbed and turned away. There was a deep ache in her chest. She turned back. "But even then, I have my family. I have a future."

"I'm glad to hear it." Phlox laid a hand on her shoulder. "Would you like to talk about what happened on Sharu?"

Hoshi had told Malcolm that it was important to talk about it. She knew it was. She nodded. "But not yet. It hurts too much today."

"Physically?" He looked concerned. "Are you unwell?"

"I don't think it's that," she told him. She felt it was sadness and loneliness and being without Malcolm.

But Phlox took out his scanner anyway. He waved it over her briefly then snapped it closed again. "Emotional distress can have a physical component. But try and let me know if something distinctly physical should ail you."

Hoshi nodded. Then she started crying harder. She needed to be held. "Can I have a hug?" she whispered.

Phlox pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her back. "Of course, you may. You suffered alone—physically alone—for a long time. And I shall do my best, in the lieutenant's absence, to keep the captain from pushing you too hard in this mission."

It felt good to have another person's touch, but it still hurt. So she let herself hug him back and cry some more. She decided she'd work as hard as she could, then maybe they could finish this mission quickly and get back to Malcolm.

It was mostly a boring trip for Commander Charles Tucker III. The Vulcans on this ship were particularly rigid. T'Pol had softened somewhat during her years on Enterprise with a crew almost completely human. V'Ret was the worst. Trip could hardly even look in on Malcolm. He was sedated so V'Ret saw no logical reason for Trip to be there. Malcolm had no need of him.

Well, he needed Malcolm. So he waited until V'Ret was off-duty and went and sat with Malcolm for an hour or two each night, telling him about his day. It didn't matter so much that Malcolm couldn't hear him. He would have just been bored as well anyway.

Trip didn't particularly know how to read the displays around Malcolm. But no alarms were blaring, so it seemed he was doing as well as possible. Seeing him like that, though, brought back memories of him when he had just been rescued and had very nearly died. He sincerely hoped Starfleet Medical would find a heart for Malcolm before he himself had to rejoin Enterprise. Malcolm didn't need to wake up alone on the other side of that, and Trip didn't think he could be effective in his duty, wondering when his best friend would get his new chance at life. He kind of felt guilty for that. Someone would have to die for a heart to become available.

Sometimes, Trip called home to check in with his folks. He told his mom some about Malcolm. She was always the one he felt he could talk to about anything, but he didn't want to give too much of Malcolm's story away. Malcolm wouldn't appreciate that. But he could tell her that he was worried about his friend, that his friend was in really bad condition.

The rest of the time, he studied Malcolm's report on the stable force field. Trip remembered why Malcolm had improved on Starfleet's designs. He and the captain had been trapped by a web-like being. The force field kept it from spreading or capturing any more people while Hoshi and T'Pol worked out how to communicate with it. Malcolm would never call himself an engineer, and Trip would never tell him so, but he was smart and skilled enough to be one. Malcolm was very intelligent for a guy who loved to blow stuff up.

It also reminded Trip that he had had a spell of telepathy while trapped in that web. And that was trippy, to say the least. The captain and he could think one another's thoughts. But Malcolm and Hoshi seemed to do it differently. They communicated, told each other stories. The captain hadn't had to tell him a thought for Trip to know it. He'd love to ask Malcolm about it, but that wouldn't be possible for a while at least. Not on this trip, certainly. Maybe after he got that new heart and began to recover.

He was surprised when a crewman came to find him to tell him he had a communications packet from Enterprise. Enterprise would have gone silent an hour before. Trip told the crewman he'd take it in his quarters and quickly made his way back there. Once the door had closed behind him, he activated the computer and pulled up the packet.

It was a message from Hoshi. It had been sent out just over an hour before, encrypted and attached to a sensor log of Malcolm tweaking that force field in his Armory years ago. It took five minutes to decrypt—he was working on a Vulcan computer after all—so Trip watched the sensor log, impressed at how Malcolm decided the necessary changes. His engineering professors back at the academy would have approved. Finally, the message was decrypted.

Hoshi looked worried. And like she'd been crying. "Trip," she said. "I forgot to tell you something. Something important. As Malcolm starts to heal, they may send him home to recuperate. I don't think that is good for him. I worry about his parents. He never said they were abusive, but what he did say, well, something happened when he was twelve. It left him aquaphobic. That changed everything between him and his father. If his parents don't seem right to you, don't leave him with them. Don't leave him where he can't heal. Hoshi out." The screen went dark.

It made sense. Especially with Malcolm. It would be best if he could leave the hospital environment as soon as possible. He'd be transferred to the care of a hospital closer to his family and receive home health care.

Trip had felt like they were too hasty to take him off life support. Had they just wanted to end his suffering, or was it something more? He decided to call his mom. "Sorry if I woke you," he told her.

"I don't sleep as much as I used to," she replied. "Has something happened to your friend?"

"No, no change in his condition, but a mutual friend called to say I should be careful about his parents. I don't like them, Mom. I've never even spoken to them, though, so maybe I'm judging them wrong."

"What don't you like about them?" She was off-screen but he could hear her pouring boiling water. She came back with a mug of tea. "Decaf. I'm still hoping to sleep a little tonight."

Trip felt terrible about that. She'd been having trouble sleeping since the Xindi attack. "Well, early on, the captain spoke to them, trying to find out what Malcolm's favorite food was so he could surprise him for his birthday. They didn't know. And he hadn't spoken to them in two years. They didn't even know what post he had on what ship. Captain said they seemed disinterested and kind of cold. Then I hear Malcolm talk about his father from time to time, hoping he'll be proud of him but kind of like he knew he wouldn't. And then, when we found him and had him on life support…." He stopped to take a breath as the memory of Malcolm not breathing in the cell ship rushed into focus. "We weren't sure he'd pull through. His parents said to pull the plug. Not in those words, but they didn't even want to see him. Phlox said it didn't sit right with him but that it could simply be their way of grieving."

"But he didn't die," his mother said, drawing her eyebrows in confusion. "He's on the ship with you."

"Right," Trip told her. "He just didn't die. He woke up. Captain called his parents back to tell them the news. They were miffed, thinking we'd gone behind their backs. They still didn't want to talk to Malcolm."

"What more did you learn from this mutual friend?" she asked, sipping her tea.

"She said something happened when Malcolm was twelve, and it changed his relationship with his father. She was worried about leaving him with them to recuperate."

"Well, it does seem odd that they wouldn't know his favorite food," she decided. "Even from before he was twelve. You loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches since you were five."

"Exactly!" Trip agreed, but he felt he should offer a counterpoint. "But his dad is all Navy, retired admiral. Maybe he just ran a tight ship, ya know. Eat what's in front of you and that's that."

"Could be," she said. "And it also could be that they wanted to alleviate his suffering, though again, I find it odd they didn't want to see him, before or after. If you were parked on death's door or just backed out of that particular driveway, no admiral would dare get in my way of talking to you. There could be something there. Maybe it's where all his secrecy started. Parents weren't interested in his life, so he thought no one else would be. Hide it. Why would they support him now if they didn't then? But then, he's British, right. Maybe they just don't show their concern, you know, stiff upper lip and all. Give them the benefit of the doubt, but don't dismiss your gut. Hopefully, they'll come to see him in the hospital. Try to be there when they do. Then decide if your gut was right."

Trip nodded and yawned. On the screen, his mother yawned, too.. "Did I bore you?"

Trip chuckled. "Naw. Nothing much to do on this Vulcan ship. Been bored most of the day. But you yawned, too. Maybe you should try sleeping again. I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Trip. Try and carve out an hour or two for your father and I when you get home, will you?"

"You got it. Should be there in two weeks' time."

"Goodnight, Sweetheart." The screen went dark. Twelve. What had Malcolm missed out on from twelve on? He wondered what had happened and what exactly had changed.

Madeline Reed paced her living room. It had been two weeks since her parents had informed her that Malcolm hadn't died as expected. She'd taken the news stoically for their benefit. But she was greatly relieved. It had just seemed wrong that Malcolm would die before her. She had to die. She had no say in it. The Xindi's prototype weapon was still destroying lives like hers years after it had cut a wide swath into the planet.

She stopped suddenly and stood still. Pain had flared in her head, and stole away her thoughts. Her brain was no longer telling her legs to move. Her knees buckled and she crumpled slowly to the floor.

She had no sense of time, but when the pain subsided and her thoughts returned, she was surprised to be lying on her side on the floor. The device on her wrist changed from orange to yellow and back to green. She knew it was safe then, to get back up.

Her computer chimed to let her know someone was calling. She went over to it and pushed the button to answer.

"Madeline, it's Darlene. Can you tell me what happened?"

Darlene. She always introduced herself like that, just in case Madeline had trouble remembering. It took a moment to place her as her brain woke up fully. Yes, her nurse. The memories came back. "I was thinking about my brother. Then I guess I had a spell. I woke up on the floor."

"Are you hurt from the fall?"

Madeline took stock. She'd been on her left side. No pain in her leg or hip. None in her shoulder. "No, I think I'm fine. I'm green again, see?" She held up the device on her wrist.

"That's good. Have you thought about calling your brother?"

That scared Madeline. "What if I go red while we're talking? I don't want him to worry about me right now. He nearly died."

"You normally stay green for at least an hour after a spell. If you call him now, you should be fine."

She was still scared. "I've never called him on his ship."

"I'm sure he'd love to see a loving face right now. And I'm also sure he's not real busy if he almost died."

Why hadn't she never called? She was an adult, no longer under her parent's strict rules of discipline. "You're right. Of course. Thank you, Darlene."

"You're welcome. I'll pop over in a couple of hours for your dinner. Keep an eye on your wrist. It should show you when you change from green so you have a little warning to get somewhere safe."

The screen flipped. She'd never been thinking to look at the device before a spell hit. It just hit. The device was new. It was synchronized with a small chip near the base of her skull. The chip sent out information about her brain's functioning. Darlene and her doctor received detailed notes. Madeline got a color-coded indication of her ability to think and move. Green was full cognition. Yellow meant she had a hard time thinking her thoughts. In between, yellow-green, was when she had those thoughts but couldn't find the words for them. Between yellow and orange, she could potentially talk but not make any sense at all. Orange meant she couldn't move right. That's when she might shake but stay awake. Between orange and red, she might freeze up entirely but still be awake. She had no thoughts in red. But her autonomic functions still worked. She breathed, she blinked. But as that red went dark toward black, it got dangerous. Everything stopped at black. Too long at black and she'd be dead.

Darlene hadn't said which color this last spell had been but Madeline suspected red. Probably not black. She woke up after all. She didn't remember anything she was doing beyond thinking of Malcolm before she woke up on the floor.

Well, the device was green now, so she put in a call to Enterprise. She expected the Asian communications officer to answer, instead she saw an older man, an admiral. "Miss Reed, how may I help you?"

"I'm sorry. I must have made a mistake." She checked the device again just to be sure. Still green.

"You called Enterprise," he said. "I'm sorry but she's on a very important mission and can't take communications at this time. Perhaps I can help you."

So it wasn't her. Good. "I wanted to speak to my brother. Lt. Malcolm Reed. He's been hurt."

"Ah yes," the admiral said. "I don't know much about his condition, but I do know he's en route to Earth. I can put you through to the ship he's coming in on though, if you like."

"He's coming here?" she asked. That had to be very bad. "Yes, please."

The screen changed to a Starfleet emblem and then to a Vulcan one that changed to a Vulcan man's face. "I am Dr. V'Ret. How can I be of service?"

A doctor. Good, he'd know about Malcolm. "My name is Madeline Reed. Lt. Malcolm Reed is my brother. I was told he was on your ship, headed to Earth."

"That is true," the doctor replied. "He is sedated and will remain so for the remainder of this journey."

"What happened? He hadn't died." She began to worry very deeply.

"He suffered a cardiac infarction. His heart cannot be healed and is in danger of failing. It was determined he would be best treated with a heart transplant. As he finds it distressing to be connected to tubes and wires, we are keeping him under sedation."

Madeline started to cry which must have flustered the doctor. "Perhaps you would feel more comfortable talking to his human companion, Commander Tucker."

Madeline wiped her eyes and nodded. The screen went back to a Vulcan emblem, then a light brown-haired man's face. He rubbed his eyes. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"I'm Madeline. Malcolm's sister."

He sat us straighter and blinked himself awake. "Madeline, uh, hi. I'm Trip. I'm his friend."

Madeline smiled through her tears. "I'm glad he has you with him. How is he, really?"

Trip sighed. "It's not good. But he's gonna be alright if he gets a new heart."

She was tired of the mystery. Her parents hadn't said what was wrong with Malcolm. Maybe they never even asked. "My parents told me he was dying and then that he wasn't. What happened to him?"

"Maybe it would be better if you ask him, back on Earth."

She hesitated. Would she be around long enough to ask Malcolm? Would she be in a state to do so? "I'm sick myself. I'm not sure they'll let me see him. You don't have to give me all the details."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope it's nothing serious," Trip said. He seemed like a nice person. "He was in a shuttle that crashed into a pre-warp planet. It's complicated but it, uh, crashed a year in the past. The scientists on the planet found him. They'd never seen a human before. They, well, studied him. Invasively. Did experiments on him. Things got real bad by the time caught up with him. We got him out but he was in real bad shape."

Madeline was shocked. A whole year where his ship couldn't find him. In the past. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She'd been feeling sorry for herself for six months. He was being 'invasively' studied at the time.

"Hey, don't cry," Trip told her. "He's gonna get better. I'm sure he'd like to see you while he's home on Earth. We should be there in twelve days. He won't be much for conversation until after he gets that heart, but he'll need people who care about him. Seems like you do."

Madeline nodded. "I do. Very much. He's my big brother. Was he alone all that year?"

"Well, no," Trip answered, looking a little uncomfortable. "Our communications officer, Hoshi Sato, crashed with him. They, uh, got kind of close down there."

"I remember her," Madeline told him. "I talked to her years ago. How is she?"

"Well, physically, she's better than him. But she had a rough time, too."

Madeline rubbed her eyes. "Thank you for being honest with me. Is she coming home, as well?"

Trip shook his head. "Should be but Enterprise needs her for their mission. I'll be there with him for a few weeks, then they'll ferry me back to Enterprise."

Madeline had a lot more questions, but she could see he was tired. And her device was changing color, fading toward yellow. "Maybe we can have tea while you're here," she suggested. "I'll let you get back to sleep, Commander. Good night."

"Goodnight," he returned. "And Madeline, it was nice to meet you."

She smiled then stopped the transmission. The device was definitely showing yellow. She had a lot to think about, but she couldn't trust those thoughts. So she grabbed a PADD and jotted notes, questions, ideas just in case she forgot, hoping she could make sense of them when she was green again.

Darlene let herself in when Madeline didn't answer the door. It had only been forty minutes, but Madeline had gone orange again. It had been a deep orange-red when she had fallen earlier. Darlene found Madeline safely lying on her sofa. Her eyes were open and blinking. She had a PADD clutched in one hand. She didn't respond though, and when Darlene turned over her wrist, she was met with a very red display.

Darlene checked Madeline's vitals. She was breathing properly; her pulse was strong and even. She would just have to wait it out. It had taken ten minutes just to get to the apartment. She could see Madeline's eyes were wet, her cheeks tear-stained, and her nose runny. Darlene grabbed a tissue and cleaned her up. She lifted the PADD and began to read.

"I talked to your sister last night, Malcolm," Trip told him. Malcolm, of course, did not reply, seeing as he was unconscious. "She seems nice enough. She's pretty, too, and worried about you. Maybe your family isn't as bad as I was making them out to be. But maybe you'll have to tell me. I don't want to leave you with them if they won't help you heal."

"If you must insist on talking to an unconscious man…" V'Ret's voice startled him from behind. "…you can at least do something useful."

Trip turned to face the doctor. "I didn't think you'd be up and about."

"Ordinarily, I would not," V'Ret admitted. "But Dr. T'Sol was feeling unwell, and it is time to check on our patient."

"How can I help?" Trip asked. He was a bit surprised V'Ret even suggested it.

"I will assign you his hands. He is unable to move them. Left alone, the muscles will atrophy and the joints stiffen. Bend and straighten each finger." He demonstrated with one of Malcolm's hands. "Fifteen times each, three times each day."

Trip nodded and took Malcolm's other hand. "I can do that." Malcolm's wrists were still held in splints, and Trip knew that Malcolm could only move the last two fingers on each hand. Hopefully, that, too, would be fixed on Earth.

At present, Malcolm was lying on his back. They occasionally rolled him onto one side or other to prevent bed sores. V'Ret untucked one leg from under the sheet and began to bend and straighten it. For all his brusqueness, V'Ret was taking good care of Malcolm, and Trip appreciated that.

"His injuries would indicate a traumatic incident," V'Ret said, apparently making conversation. "I had not considered that you, too, may have been traumatized by what was done to your friend."

"Because I'm an emotional human?" Trip asked, being careful to keep his tone conversational. He wasn't trying to accuse the doctor. Rather, he was testing the waters, so to speak.

"Even Vulcans can suffer traumatic stress," V'Ret replied.

Trip was aware. "I found him. Me and Lt. Woods. I don't think I'll ever get that image out of my head."

V'Ret moved to the other leg and Trip to Malcolm's other hand. "You may never. Though with counseling—and your friend's recovery—you may find its power diminishes."

Trip nodded. V'Ret wasn't so bad after all. "Thank you," Trip offered. "For letting me help."

"You may visit as often as you need," V'Ret told him as he covered Malcolm's exposed leg again, "so long as you know when to get out of the way."

"Of course." Trip was quick to agree. V'Ret checked a few details on the screens and, finding them satisfactory, he left the room.

"Turns out he's a good guy," Trip told Malcolm.

Madeline looked at the notes she had made on the PADD the day before. She found it on the kitchen counter. She'd forgotten all about it. Darlene had told her she had been red for at least thirty minutes. She was very concerned. Madeline was as well, but she was also rather pessimistic about the whole thing. There wasn't anything they could do to change it or treat it. And she wasn't going to get any better.

Darlene had fixed her dinner then sent her to bed to rest. She'd stayed the night. But when Madeline had stayed green right through breakfast, she convinced the nurse to go home and rest herself.

Some of the notes made no sense to her now, but a few stood out. 'Malcolm vivisected' was one. Trip had said he was invasively studied. That was vivisection. It appalled her. She knew that before medical technology had advanced to view bodies virtually through X-Rays, Cat scans, and MRIs, an alien who found himself on Earth might have had a similar fate. But this was her brother.

Another note stood out: 'My heart.' Despite her terminal illness, her heart was fine. Only her brain was affected. The note scared her a little, but it also excited her. Her own death had been looming over her for half a year. It had seemed such a waste. Her life was really only getting started. She was realizing her dreams then bam! All that had come to a dismal stop. What would she accomplish but an almost life? She was almost successful, almost a builder of magnificent buildings.

Her death would mean nothing. She'd be just another statistic, another victim of the Xindi. But this could mean something different. She could make her death mean something. Her body was fine. She could help Malcolm and maybe others. Malcolm needed a heart, and she had one she wouldn't need much longer. Someone else may have needed a kidney. She had two good ones. Organ donation had been going on for centuries. She was shocked she hadn't thought of it sooner.

The part that scared her was the certainty. It came as something of a relief, but it also meant she couldn't postpone facing the fact that she was definitely going to die. It was the transition that scared her. The point when she went from being still alive to no longer existing as a person.

The idea of helping her brother outweighed that fear. That transition was going to happen anyway. Not donating her heart wouldn't change that. But it might mean Malcolm died, too, or had to wait for another heart to become available. He'd suffered longer than she had at this point. He shouldn't be made to suffer longer just because she was scared of the moment of dying.

The door chimed. She checked to see who it was. Mother was on the other side of the door. Madeline turned off the PADD and tucked it between the arm of the sofa and the cushion, then she opened the door.

Mother kissed her on the cheek. "How are you today, Madeline dear?" she asked as she set her bag down on the kitchen counter.

"I feel good today, Mother," Madeline told her. It was half-true, at least. "I tried to call Malcolm last night. I spoke to his friend."

Mother's lips tightened and she looked away. "How is your brother?"

"Not good," she replied. Father wasn't here. She wanted to know how far Mother's concern went for her only son. "He said Malcolm had been studied, invasively, after crashing on an alien planet."

"That sounds unpleasant," Mother said. "You shouldn't focus on such dreadful things. It can't help your depression."

"He's my brother," Madeline argued. "And I may be depressed, but I'm dying so I have good reason to be."

"You shouldn't talk that way," Mother replied. "They may find a cure still. Some of the best researchers are trying to find a workable treatment."

"I was catatonic for thirty minutes last night, Mother." Madeline sat down at the table. "One must also be practical."

"Why don't we go out for ice cream," Mother suggested with a small smile as she sat down opposite Madeline.

"We'll have to order in," Madeline countered. "I can't take the chance of collapsing on the street." She had both arms on the table which is how she caught the change in color in her peripheral vision. She abruptly stood and went to the sofa. The pain was just starting to flare.

"What is it?" Mother asked. Her voice was laced with panic.

Madeline held up her wrist. She was yellow-orange and it was still changing. She squeezed her eyes tight with the pain in her head.

When she opened her eyes again, Mother was placing an ice pack in her kitchen towel. She brought it and held it to Madeline's forehead. "My poor baby," she cooed.

As the device's display changed to dark red-orange, Mary sat beside her daughter and pulled her over to cradle her head in her lap. She cried and studied Madeline's slack face. "Come back to me, Madeline. Don't leave." But the device stayed orange-red. The door chimed but Mary didn't leave her daughter to answer it.

Darlene, Madeline's nurse, entered and quickly crossed to the sofa. "It doesn't seem to be going any deeper," she commented after checking Madeline's wrist. "Did she see it coming?"

Mary nodded. "Why can't they help her?"

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Reed," Darlene told her. "Everything we've ever learned about cancer just doesn't apply to these tumors. As some patients are dying, they are donating their brains to the research. It's still a long way out, but we may find something someday."

"Too late for my daughter." Mary stroked her daughter's hair.

"Hard to say," Darlene replied. "We can't even offer a timeline. Just that her symptoms will become worse and more frequent."

Madeline twitched. Darlene checked the device. Orange and getting lighter. "She's coming out of it. This was a short one."

"I don't know how you can say that so easily," Mary accused. "They're all terrible. She loses herself."

Darlene put a hand on Mary's arm. "I understand. She's your daughter. I like Madeline, I really do. But I have to see these things clinically."

Madeline heard them talking and recognized they were talking about her. She brushed her mother's hands away and tried to sit up. Darlene helped. She wanted to say something but she couldn't form any words. She flopped her wrist over. Yellow-orange. "Pl—plea—please," she finally said. "Wat—"

"Water!" Mother recognized it. She left and returned with a glass and held it to Madeline's lips. Madeline got a hand on the glass and helped tilt it so she could drink. She pushed it away when she had enough.

"Love you, Mother," she managed. "But go now. I—better." She sat up straighter. She grabbed Darlene's hand.

"How can I leave you?" Mother asked, caressing her face.

"I want to talk." It was getting easier now. "Darlene."

Mother bent down and placed a kiss on Madeline's forehead. "Alright. I'll be back tomorrow."

Maybe I won't, Madeline thought.

Mother left. Darlene didn't pull her hand away but she sat on the sofa beside Madeline. Madeline used her other hand to retrieve the PADD. "I've had an idea."

"Maybe you should discuss this with your parents," Darlene said after Madeline told her she wanted to donate her heart to her brother.

Madeline held up her wrist. "Green. I know what I want. My parents would only try to stop me."

"You can't be sure of that," Darlene said. "He's not just your brother. He's their son."

"I don't normally air my family's dirty laundry in front of others. But my parents don't love my brother."

Darlene wasn't sure she heard that right. She glanced at the device just to be sure it wasn't a glitch in Madeline's speech. "Why would you think that?"

Madeline sighed and stood up. "Reed men are Navy men. Have been for centuries. Malcolm was destined for it. Father was so proud. Then, when I was eight and he was twelve, three bullies held his head under a fountain until he drowned."

"That's awful!" Darlene stood, too. "Someone must have saved him."

Madeline nodded. "But he was left with a severe fear of water, of drowning. He could no longer swim, no longer even stand on a pier. He couldn't fathom the Navy." She started pacing. "And once that sunk in, my Father withdrew his love, his affection and swapped that pride for disdain. Again and again, he tried to force Malcolm to face his fears and overcome them. When he didn't, or couldn't, Father saw it as a flaw in his son. When Malcolm said he was joining Starfleet, well, they may as well have disowned him. He turned his back on family tradition, a capital sin for a Reed man."

Darlene opened her mouth but couldn't think what to say. It was appalling. She decided to change the focus to the PADD Madeline was holding. "You wrote that he was vivisected."

Madeline nodded again. "Studied 'invasively.' Isn't that what it is?"

"Yes," Darlene agreed. "It's been years. He's a hero. Maybe they've forgiven him."

Madeline stopped and faced her. "Three weeks ago, after my brother was rescued and on life support, they ordered that he be removed. They didn't even want to see him. Mother told me. Just as clinically as you talked about my spells. Honestly, I don't think they'd approve of my donating anything to anyone, but least of all my brother."

"I understand he needs a heart," Darlene said, hoping to test Madeline's resolve. "It doesn't have to be yours. You, obviously, care about him. He could use you after the transplant. You could spend time with him."

"Eleven days," Madeline said. "He won't reach Earth for eleven days. I could be dead in eleven days."

Darlene blew out a breath. "You know you'd have to be dead to donate—"

"Of course, I do," Madeline snapped back. "Still green! What difference does it make? The end is the same for me. Eleven days or eleven weeks, I'm still going to die. But if I can help him, and maybe others, well, then it's not all for nothing!"

Darlene felt she still needed to offer counterpoint, to help Madeline be sure of this course. "You won't see him heal," she reminded her. "He'll learn eventually that you're not there anymore. It adds grief to everything he's suffered."

"He'd grieve anyway. I'm still going to die." Madeline sat at the table. "But this way I know when it's coming. I can leave him a message to let him know I wanted this." She looked up at Darlene. "Please, help me save my brother."

Darlene took the chair beside her. "I've been wanting to ask you something similar, actually."

Author's Note: I deliberately stayed in Madeline's POV there in the second to last scene, even when she had no POV. I never got the "camera" into Mary or Darlene's head so I kept it all in one scene until Madeline was able to recapture her POV. And look at that, I pulled this journey where Malcolm is unconscious all the way to Chapter 3 without him.