A Life Worth Living- Chapter 10

A LIFE WORTH LIVING

By Gabi

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Action/Adventure/Angst

Summary: What if both Trip and Sim had survived the transplantation? Takes place during Similitude

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own the characters and I don't make any money with this story.

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Chapter 10

Trip broke through the water's surface only a second after Sim, who had grabbed Malcolm under the armpits in order to drag him to the surface.

"How is he?" Trip gasped.

With effort, Sim pulled Malcolm away from the ravine, to a place where he was able to stand on solid ground. "He's unconscious," he stated, bringing his ear to Malcolm's mouth. "But he's breathing," he added in relief. "Although very shallowly."

"He must've gotten water in his lungs. You have to bring him to the bank as fast as possible."

Sim was panting and gasping, and trying to breathe deeply to refill his lungs with air. Trip could see clearly that he was beat, and worried how Sim could possibly drag an unconscious body over the deep spot and across to the other bank.

Suddenly Malcolm started to cough violently. His body was shaking and trembling and Sim held him against his chest. Instinctively, Malcolm tried to get free, but Sim held him in a gentle grip. "It's okay, Malcolm, you have to get rid of the water in your lungs."

Malcolm complied, coughing more and more until a small trace of water began to trickle out of his mouth. Exhausted, he laid his head on Sim's shoulder and closed his eyes again.

Sim looked over to Trip. "He'll make it," he said, relief clearly written on his face.

"Thanks to you."

"And to you." Sim smiled wearily. "I wouldn't have had a chance without the knife. And it was high time that we freed him. He had lost it down there. He kept starin' into nothingness and didn't even notice me givin' him mouth-to-mouth. And givin' him air under water was difficult enough even with his co-operation."

"Can you bring him to the bank?"

Determination in his eyes, Sim nodded. "What about you?"

"I think I can manage the rest of the way on my own."

"But I can see that you're in pain. It was too much for you."

Trip sighed. "At the moment neither of us can do anythin' about it. I'll just take things easy. Now, I have plenty of time to reach the bank. But you go and get Malcolm out of the water."

"Okay." Sim held Malcolm, who still had his eyes closed, in a firm grip and dragged him to the bank.

Trip watched them move off, chewing on his lip. The confident façade he had put on quickly vanished. Now that the rush of adrenaline had subsided he felt the pain in his legs even more. They were hurting like hell and his arms were trembling. A shiver ran down his spine and despite the warm water he felt cold. Blood was still flowing from his wound and he felt as if the water was washing away all his strength. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. Now pull yourself together, Tucker, he thought. You can rest when you have reached the bank. Trip sighed, steeled himself against the pain and slowly began to make his way to the other side of the river.

#####

Trip was gasping for air when he finally reached the river bank. Carefully, he sat down where the slope began, closing his eyes in exhaustion. He simply couldn't go on anymore. Waves of pain were washing through both his legs, he could feel the blood pounding in his ears and the moisture on his forehead wasn't water, but sweat. He knew that he was running a fever and the cold shiver that ran down his back didn't surprise him.

"Trip?" a gentle voice said next to him. It cost Trip more strength than he had left to merely open his eyes.

"Hold on," Sim said. "I'll help you up the slope."

"No, please don't," Trip wearily whispered, his voice only a faint slur. "I can't bear the pain any longer. Just leave me here."

"I can't do that, Trip, and you know it. You have to get your legs out of the water."

Moistening his lips, Trip glanced at his legs, swallowing at the sight. His right leg was as thick as a balloon and the skin he could see through the torn leg of his uniform looked like it would crack any moment. The protruding bone in his left leg looked even worse. Trip was sure that it had shifted slightly. Maybe that was the reason why the wound had started bleeding again so fiercely.

"How's Malcolm?" he tried to change the subject.

"He's exhausted and still throwin' up water. But he's fully conscious again."

"I'm amazed that we got him out at all." Trip tried to smile but it turned into a painful grimace.

"Without you it would've been impossible to help him. C'mon, Trip, one last effort. I'll take you up the slope to Malcolm and then I'll get the stretcher and the backpack."

"Just leave the stuff over there. You're beat as well, Sim. You can't go back again."

"But I have to do it. You know that we need the medkit and the stretcher. But first I'm goin' to take you up the slope. The water doesn't do you any good. It's only a few more meters."

Trip nodded in resignation and wrapped his hands around Sim's neck. Sim grabbed him under the armpits and as carefully as possible dragged Trip up the slope.

When his splinted legs dragged over the ground, Trip thought he would black out from the pain. Although he was biting his lips, he couldn't suppress a moan.

"Hold on, Trip," Sim said in a reassuring voice. "We've almost made it."

Eventually, Sim let Trip slide to the ground. Lying beside Malcolm, Trip tried to catch his breath, which was still coming in ragged gasps.

Sim looked at him with sympathy. "I'll be back as fast as I can," he promised and with a last glance at his injured friends, he went down the slope.

#####

When the pain had relented somewhat, Trip propped himself up on his elbows, watching Sim as he waded through the water. Malcolm groaned beside him. Trip turned his head to look at his friend. Malcolm was sitting there, a hand pressed against his shoulder that had begun bleeding again, staring into nothingness.

Trip frowned. "Hey Malcolm, how're you doin'?"

Malcolm didn't seem to hear him. He was shivering and his hands were trembling slightly.

"I was drowning," he whispered barely audibly and Trip got the impression that Malcolm was talking to himself. "I was actually drowning."

"No, you weren't," Trip said a little louder than usual to get Malcolm's attention.

Malcolm sighed deeply, eventually looking at Trip. "It's the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I'd rather fight all of the Xindi than to through something like that again."

"It must've been scary."

"Scary?" Malcolm snorted. "It was plain horrible." He licked his lips. "How long was I under water?"

"I don't know exactly. Ten to fifteen minutes maybe. I don't know how long it took me to get the knife from the backpack."

Malcolm turned to him in surprise. "You got the knife?" he asked. "Sorry, I still don't know exactly what happened."

"Sim managed to cut you loose and then we both dragged you to the surface."

"You too?"

"I helped you breathe while Sim was cutting the vine."

"I can't remember any of it."

"You were barely conscious. I'm glad we managed to get you out."

"I'm so sorry."

"There's no reason to feel sorry, Malcolm. It wasn't your fault."

"How on earth could you fetch the knife with broken legs?"

Trip grimaced. "I promised you not to let you drown, remember?"

Malcolm threw a glance at Trip's legs. "They look awful."

Trip nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it wasn't easy. But like I said, we couldn't let you drown."

Malcolm swallowed. "You two saved my life." His voice faltered.

"You told me to return the favor, and that was what I did." Trip smiled, but quickly sobered up again. "Forget about it, Malcolm. You would've done the same for me. And for Sim. It's okay. I'm only glad we succeeded. I didn't like the idea of you endin' up as plant food."

Malcolm started to cough violently, causing Trip to frown in concern.

"I'm okay," Malcolm said in between bouts of coughing.

Trip eyed Malcolm carefully, and noticed discomfort in his friend's eyes. "Tell me what's on your mind, Malcolm."

Malcolm stared at the ground. "I panicked," he said in a soft tone of voice.

"You were drownin', Malcolm. What did you expect? That you'd be able to keep your senses together and think rationally? Anyone would have panicked, even someone who's not usually afraid of the water. I can't even start to imagine how horrible it must've been for you."

"With a little more rational thinking I would've been able to free myself," Malcolm insisted.

"Yeah, sure. If there was one man on Earth who can still think rationally when he's stuck under water and drownin', it would be Malcolm Reed." Trip reached over and put his hand on Malcolm's arm. "Don't put yourself down because you were panickin'. It was only natural. Don't give yourself a hard time for bein' human."

"But…"

"Stop it, Malcolm. You don't have to play the hero all the time. It wasn't your fault. And thank goodness you're alive. That's the only important thing."

Malcolm considered Trip's words, then he grinned lopsidedly. "I'm sure I'm going to have nightmares till the end of my days."

Trip fell silent, swallowing. Malcolm didn't need to tell him about nightmares. He felt really sorry for his friend.

"Hey," Malcolm smiled at him and it was a genuine smile. "I'll be fine."

"That's good to hear." Trip decided to drop the subject and shooed away some of the insects that tried to settle on him. "I guess the ointment has definitely washed off. I thought it was supposed to be waterproof."

"Waterproof doesn't include diving and staying under water." Malcolm squashed one of the insects on his leg.

Trip turned his head. "Sim's back."

Sim was dragging the makeshift stretcher up the slope. He looked pale and exhausted and Trip began to worry whether he would pass out cold right in front of their eyes. Letting go of the backpack, Sim sat down heavily beside Trip, trying to breathe deeply.

"What is it, Sim?" Trip asked gently.

"I'm feelin' kinda sick," Sim admitted. "Just give me a minute."

Sim had hardly finished speaking when he started to retch, but nothing came out except for a few droplets of spit. After a few more deep breaths he seemed to have regained some strength. "How are the two of you doin'?"

"I'm fine," Malcolm mumbled and Trip nodded. "Me too. We only need some more of Phlox' ointment."

"Yeah, I noticed that it had worn off. What about the pain, Trip?"

"It's faded a little."

"Ah, I see. It's still hurtin' like hell." Sim looked up and Trip knew there was no use in contradicting him.

Sim opened the backpack and handed Trip the ointment. "What about you, Malcolm? Are you in pain? And I want the truth; don't give me that "I'm fine" thing again."

"My shoulder hurts a little and my chest is burning," Malcolm admitted. "But it could be worse."

"D'you need painkillers?"

"I understand that we have only one dosage left. And I think someone else needs it more than I do."

Sim nodded. He had expected this answer from Malcolm. Trip needed the painkiller badly.

When the hypospray hissed against his neck, Trip let out a deep sigh. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome. Tell me when the pain is fadin'. I have to apply a tourniquet to the wound to stop it from bleedin'."

"I was hopin' that you wouldn't notice."

Sim busied himself with Trip's leg. "You don't mean that, Trip. Just look at your leg, it's bloody all over. There was even a red puddle around the place where the backpack lay. I'm sorry I didn't think of takin' care of your leg before we got into the water. I should have remembered that the warm water would increase the blood flow."

Trip grimaced when Sim tightened the tourniquet. "Under normal circumstances it wouldn't have been necessary. You couldn't know what would happen."

Sim nodded, asking Trip to hand him the tube of ointment. He crouched down beside Malcolm. "Can you apply it yourself?" he asked.

"Of course, just squeeze it onto my fingers."

"You can't apply it onto your right hand," Trip said.

Malcolm shot him an annoyed glance, but Sim smiled. "I'll help you, Malcolm."

"I can do it," Malcolm insisted.

"Don’t be silly," Sim scolded him gently. "There's nothin' wrong with acceptin' a little help." Sim applied the gel to Malcolm's hand and then on his own face and hands.

"Okay, I'm finished. And I think we'd better get goin'."

"Now give it a rest, Sim," Trip objected. "We're totally beat. And you can barely keep your eyes open. You should rest a while."

"But we don't have the time, Trip. You know we have to catch the window in the atmosphere."

Malcolm checked the time. "We won't make it anyway, Sim. There's only half an hour left. We're too late."

"Maybe you could make it without me?" Trip wondered.

Malcolm sighed. "Don't even think about it, Commander. The next window will open in about three and a half hours. We have enough time to rest now, get to the shuttlepod and catch another hour of sleep before we get out of here."

Sim wasn't convinced. "I would prefer to rest in the shuttlepod. It's still a kilometer to go and you never know what's waitin' for us on our way."

"That's true," Trip agreed. "But you have to take a break now, Sim. There's no use in you collapsin' on the way."

Sim sighed. It wasn't that he didn't like the idea of getting a break, but he was afraid that he'd never find the strength to get up again if he lay down now. Eventually, it was his legs that made the decision. They buckled under him and Sim had no other choice than to comply.

#####

Sim stopped in his tracks, panting. He wished he could wipe the sweat from his forehead, but to do so he would have had to put down Trip's stretcher and it would be almost impossible to lift it up again. Sim wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to keep this up, dragging Trip through the forest. He had slept for half an hour until the persisting beep from the communicator had woken him up. None of them had had the strength to get up and reach for the comm. devices in the backpack, although they knew that the captain would be worried if his call wasn't answered. When the beep faded away, telling them that the window in the atmosphere had closed again, they had all experienced a strange feeling of loneliness. Once again, Enterprise was out of reach. Sim had tried to go to sleep again, but to no avail. The short rest period hadn't been refreshing anyway. He still felt tired and exhausted and every step cost him quite an effort.

Malcolm looked at him. "Let me help you," he offered. "I could take one of the handles."

Sim didn't even have the breath to answer. Wordlessly, he let Malcolm take the left handle and clung to the right one with both hands. Malcolm didn't feel very well, either. He was still shaking slightly and Sim was sure that his mind still struggled with the memories of the horrible experience. It would take him some time to come to terms with the ordeal he had had undergone.

Together they managed to drag the makeshift stretcher a bit further. Trip had fallen silent and Sim took it as a reassuring sign that his pain eventually had subsided.

Malcolm looked around. "Stop, Sim, I'm not quite sure whether we're heading the right way. We have to check our direction."

"Okay." Carefully, they set the stretcher down. Sim opened the backpack to get the scanner. He smiled when he glanced at Trip, who had his eyes closed and was looking young and vulnerable.

"He's fallen asleep," Sim whispered to Malcolm.

Malcolm stepped up beside him and, smiling as well, kneeled down to wipe the sweat off Trip's forehead. The smile on his face, however, vanished when he looked closely at his friend. "Trip?" he called anxiously. "Trip, can you hear me?"

Sim's heart sank. "He's not sleepin', is he? He's unconscious."

Malcolm nodded. "He has lost too much blood."

Sim cursed. "And we're stuck here on the planet for two more hours, maybe more. He needs to see Phlox."

"But Phlox isn't here. Let's just get him to the shuttlepod as quickly as possible."

Sim stowed the scanner away in his pocket. "We have to turn slightly to the right. We have only 280 meters more to go."

"Then let's get moving." With his good hand, Malcolm took the handle and waited until Sim had taken a firm hold of his as well. Slowly, they lifted the stretcher and moved on.

#####

"What a beautiful sight," Sim murmured as they entered the clearing. "Have you ever seen somethin' as wonderful as that?" He pointed to the shuttlepod, which stood there glittering in the sun.

"In fact, I have," Malcolm answered wryly. "You have no idea how beautiful the sight of the world can be when you were just saved from a near-drowning. But I have to admit that I'm glad we've made it."

Malcolm opened the hatch and checked inside while Sim undid the straps that held Trip on the bulkhead. Together they lifted the engineer onto one of the benches. Using the medical scanner, Malcolm examined Trip. He bit his lip when he studied the readings.

"That bad?" Sim asked worriedly.

"Like I said, he's lost a lot of blood. He would need a transfusion."

Sim frowned. "I believe I saw a transfusion device in the medkit."

"That's right," Malcolm said, still looking at Trip. "But we don't have any blood, and even if we had, we don't know Trip's blood type."

"We don't have to."

Surprised, Malcolm turned around and saw Sim smile.

"Tell me where you could find a better blood donor for Trip than me."

Slowly, Malcolm nodded. "You're right." He shook his head in annoyance. "I guess I've still got water in my brain. It still refuses to think straight."

Sim sat down on the bench beside Trip. "Do you know how to use the device?"

"Not really, but it can't be difficult. You only have to put the right pressure sleeve on your arm just above the elbow and the other one at the same place on Trip's arm. The device will do the rest."

"Sounds easy."

Malcolm handed Sim a small bottle with a clear liquid. "You'll want to use the disinfectant first. You and Trip aren't exactly clean."

It was pretty easy to apply the device. With a little help from Sim, Malcolm could do it with one arm. "You should lie down," he advised Sim.

"But the tube isn't long enough to reach to the other bench. I'm fine, Malcolm, I can rest while I'm sittin' here."

Malcolm turned on the device. Sim flinched when he felt a sharp sting on the inside of his elbow and then they could see his blood flow through the tube directly into Trip's vein. Malcolm checked the speed of the transfusion.

"You think he will make it?" Sim asked.

"I guess you can tell better than I can," Malcolm answered.

"Then he'll make it." Sim said determinedly.

They sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Malcolm checked the amount of blood that Trip had received. Studying Sim's face which was getting paler by the minute, Malcolm reached out to shut down the device.

Sim frowned. "Do you think it's enough?"

"I don't know," Malcolm admitted. "But you're not really fit, either. You need your blood for yourself. You've already given him almost half a liter."

Sim laid his hand on Malcolm's arm. "Don't," he pleaded. "A little more. Just to be sure."

Malcolm wasn't convinced. "There's no logic in giving Trip all your blood and dying from the loss yourself."

Sim smiled. "Trust me, Malcolm, I can do without half a liter."

Looking at Trip, Malcolm nodded. "Okay, but only 100 milliliters more. Then I'll cut the flow."

"Fair enough." Sim closed his eyes and tried to relax.

TBC

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