Work Text:
It begins it always does: a light cramping in his chest, soon morphing into a tightness as if ropes are being bound around his lungs. He tries to bear it, focuses on what Trip is saying, because they’re only out on a short walk, and he should be able to handle this. What does that say about him if he can’t even handle some shortness of breath on his own?
But his breathing turns to wheezes, and Trip is not stupid. Stopping mid-sentence, Trip comes to a halt and turns to Malcolm and asks, “You okay?”
“Fine.” Malcolm’s voice is raspy.
Trip looks at him in disbelief. “You don’t sound fine.”
“Well, I am,” Malcolm snaps, but it’s already getting much harder to breathe, “so let’s continue walking, shall we?”
“I think we should head back home.”
“Really, Trip, I’m-” Malcolm is cut off by a harsh, dry cough, and suddenly he realises that his throat has begun to close up. His hands fly up to his collar on their own. Hastily, he starts unbuttoning it, as Trip guides him to sit on a nearby bench while simultaneously coaxing him through useless breathing techniques that have never worked. In through your nose, out through your mouth.
Rather difficult when one can’t breathe.
He struggles to draw in oxygen, the world fading around the edges. He knows that can’t be good. Trip is yelling at him now, frantic, and Malcolm paws weakly. Trip takes his wandering hand and holds it tight.
Through dimming vision, Malcolm watches as Trip takes out his emergency communicator and says something into it that Malcolm can’t hear.
The world pitches sideways.
He still can’t breathe.
He wakes up in the hospital to the sound of beeping monitors and the sight of Trip sleeping in an uncomfortable looking chair. Trip startles awake when a nurse comes in, and watches as she fusses over Malcolm, takes his oxygen levels and blood pressure, then leaves.
Trip and Malcolm sit in silence for a moment.
“So,” Trip says, “you want to tell me what that was all about?”
“What do you mean?”
“That,” Trip articulates, gesturing vaguely. “I thought we promised no more of that ‘I’m fine’, bullshit. This is your life on the line, Malcolm. You almost…”
“Oh, I didn’t realise I still had a life.” It’s cruel and Malcolm knows it. He looks away just so he doesn’t have to see the hurt that flashes across Trip’s face.
“You still have a life, Malcolm,” Trip says quietly. “I don’t want you to throw it away over stubbornness.”
“It’s not stubbornness!” Malcolm hisses, “it’s-”
“It’s what?” Trip folds his arm, expression daring Malcolm to argue, though there’s an undercurrent of hurt behind it. “Things have changed, Malcolm. You can’t do the things you used to.”
Trip’s words are like a slap to the face. Malcolm actually winces.
“I know that,” he whispers. “And that’s what bothers me.”
Trip softens and leans forward, reaches out to take Malcolm’s hand which is resting atop the blankets. “You’re gonna have setbacks, Malcolm,” he says. “That’s what the doctor-”
“Sod what the doctor says. I want to be normal again,” Malcolm chokes out. “I want to be able to go outside again without you holding onto medication. I want to do something other than a desk job. I want to be free again. But I can’t. And it makes me utterly pathetic.”
Trip sits down on the edge of the bed. His thumb traces nonsensical patterns on the back of Malcolm’s hand. “It’s not pathetic,” he says softly. “Your life changed, yeah, but you’re not completely incapable.”
“Oh, yes, of course, my desk job.” Malcolm rolls his eyes. “Two days a bloody week. Trip, how can you even bear to be around me?”
“Now you listen to me.” Trip tightens his grip. “I will not have my partner speakin’ about himself like that. I love you. Nothing will stop me from loving you. Ever.”
Malcolm sighs. “I’m sorry, Trip.”
“And no ‘sorry’ either.” Trip leans forward until his forehead is resting against Malcolm’s, and they breathe together, Malcolm’s slightly shakier and raspier. “We’re in this together, Malcolm. I’m here with you, every step of the way, no matter what.”
Malcolm draws in a deep breath, holds it; exhales slowly. “Thank you,” he manages.
And somehow, breathing seems just a little bit easier now.