Archive of Our Own

I see a voice...I can hear my Thisbe's face.

—Pyramus, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Shakespeare

"For an empty ship, this place certainly is, um, stinky," Trip murmured, trying to avoid breathing through his nose despite his physical exertions.

Malcolm squatted next to him, helping him ease off the cover to the heavily corroded panel. "I've smelled worse."

Trip grimaced, easing the cover onto the floor. "Like what?"

Malcolm stood, picking up his tools as he did so. "Florida—pig farms, paper mills," he said flatly, a spark in his eyes as he turned back to his own work.

Trip squinted up at his friend. "How did you...I thought you'd only been to Florida once," he said with surprise.

"I was. I just..." Malcolm shrugged. "I got around a bit while I was there."

Trip raised his eyebrows, then peered back into the open panel. Malcolm walked to Hoshi, who was trying to get the dusty computer system to work.

The captain had sent Malcolm, Trip and Hoshi to this long-abandoned ship, hoping that they could analyze the technology, perhaps learn something about the beings that had traveled within it. They'd found no signs of life and no bodies, so now they were focusing on the equipment, and the ship itself. And trying hard not to focus on the smell.

Trip held two wires, one in each hand. "Malcolm, could you do me a favor?" he tossed back over his shoulder, twisting so that he could see Malcolm, near Hoshi. "In that alcove, over there," he indicated the one he meant with his head. "There was a device, a long, blue tube, hooked into one of the circuits. It was partially disconnected. Could you hook it back up? I think it would help me here."

Malcolm nodded, stepping away from Hoshi and through the door Trip had indicated. The engineer turned back to his work.

Malcolm stepped into the alcove, putting his tools down next to the door and crouching next to an open access panel in the wall. He heard the door slide shut behind him and glanced back, surprised. Then he smiled—it seemed to be the only device functioning on the ship. And happily, it seemed to block some of the smell. He decided to leave it shut for now.

He peered into the open panel and easily found the blue object that Trip had indicated. It looked simple enough to reattach. He stood, walking to the door, crouching down to rummage through his tools.

There was an explosion from the open panel. A roar, then white, heat, blinding, and Malcolm fell back, slammed against the door.

Trip twisted as soon as he heard the sound, loud, although muffled by the closed door. He stood before he even realized he was doing so, dropping his tools as he stepped toward the entrance, which didn't open at his approach. Hoshi joined him as he tried to get it to budge. She triggered what seemed to be the door's switch, with no result, and Trip started trying to get the door to open manually. He got it to move, just slightly, but it slid shut again.

Hoshi sidled in next to him, the small crowbar from his toolkit in her hand. They started working to pry the door open, their breath harsh, not speaking.

Malcolm opened his eyes, squinting at the bright lights above him. He tried to sit up, then winced, gripping the back of his head, falling back slightly as a wave of nausea overcame him.

He rolled onto his side, glimpsing the hole in the wall, now wider, the blue device scorched black at one end. He pushed up with his hands, sitting, then paused, hunched slightly forward as he waited for the vertigo to pass. He breathed carefully, trying to settle himself, in through his nose, out through his teeth, his eyes closed. After a few seconds, he tried standing. Wobbling a bit, he bent down, hands on his knees, and breathed heavily. He managed to straighten up, his back to the door.

With Hoshi's help, Trip was able to force the doors open. Seeing Malcolm facing away from them, upright and apparently okay, he let out a barking laugh in relief. "You okay, Malcolm?"

Malcolm didn't respond. Trip watched as his friend wavered, putting one hand to the nearby wall quickly, and turned his head down, his face toward the floor. Where his hand moved against the wall, Trip saw a smear of blood, red against the surface.

Hoshi gasped beside him. "Hey," Trip said, alarmed, stepping forward and grasping Malcolm's free arm. Malcolm startled at his touch, looking towards him, dazed.

Trip heard Hoshi comm. Phlox as Malcolm slipped from his grip, sinking to his knees and vomiting. Trip knelt next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders, supporting him as he got sick. After a moment, he turned his head slightly and looked at Trip, his eyes glassy, his pupils uneven.

Trip maneuvered the shuttle into its berth on Enterprise. He looked back at Malcolm again. He was lying on his side on the floor, his eyes closed, curled in on himself, his head pillowed on Trip's uniform jacket, his breathing rapid and shallow. Hoshi sat at his side, one hand resting on his shoulder. Trip and Hoshi's eyes locked, his worry mirrored in her gaze.

With each bump or sway of the shuttle, Malcolm winced, his eyes tightening.

Trip turned back to the controls. He could tell that Malcolm was in a lot of pain, a concussion at a minimum. He didn't know if there was more to his injury—Malcolm hadn't really spoken since the accident, and hadn't responded to any of Trip's questions.

"Hold on, almost done," Trip said softly, trying to gentle the movement of the ship. They finally settled to the deck with a soft "thump," and Trip heard Malcolm catch his breath, hissing against the pain.

"Sorry, kid," Trip winced, shutting down operations. He moved to the door, triggering it open, and he could see Phlox and a medical technician at the far end of the shuttle bay, already moving towards the ship.

Trip turned, stepping back to his crewmates, kneeling down next to them. "Help's coming." Malcolm didn't respond.

Malcolm opened his eyes, squinting against the light.

Phlox dimmed it. "Is that better, lieutenant?"

Malcolm looked at him blearily. His eyes closed again, and he slept.

Phlox heard Malcolm groan, and, seeing that he was awake, strode over to his bed. "Nice to see you back, Mr. Reed. How are you feeling?"

Malcolm looked at Phlox, puzzled. "What?"

Phlox came closer, evaluating Malcolm as he spoke to him. "Are you feeling pain anywhere? You received quite a concussion."

Malcolm's eyes were scared, and in a low, rough voice, he said, "I can't hear you." He tried to sit, but Phlox pushed him back down gently, indicating with his hands that Malcolm should be still.

"Lie down, Malcolm."

Malcolm looked panicked. "I can't hear."

Phlox talked to Jon and Trip in the captain's ready room. "He doesn't remember the event itself, which is normal with a head injury."

"Why can't he hear?" Jon asked, looking at Trip, who was shifting nervously in his seat.

"Trauma can cause hearing loss. He's had an inner ear concussion. He's also experiencing acute vertigo and tinnitus."

"English, Doc," Trip said flatly, worry on his face.

"Sorry, yes. Um, dizziness and ringing in his ears."

Jon spoke. "Will his hearing come back?"

Phlox didn't look encouraged. Hesitantly, he said, "I'll have to do some more tests."

Trip started to protest, and Phlox held up his hands in supplication. "It might, but with this type of injury, it's quite possible that it won't. I think we should be prepared. We'll have to wait and see."

"It's my fault, you know, captain," Trip muttered as the door closed behind Phlox.

Jon turned to his friend, saying cautiously, "What do you mean, Trip?"

"I asked him to go into that room. I..." his voice broke.

Jon put a hand on his shoulder.

Trip entered sickbay, a padd in his hand as he approached Malcolm, who was sitting in a chair next to his bed. Malcolm looked up, smiling as Trip approached. Trip smiled, too, glad to see his friend had improved so much in the past couple of days.

Trip lifted his padd and started typing. "How you doing?" he wrote, then he passed the padd to Malcolm.

Malcolm read the sentence, then looked back up at Trip, handing the padd back to him. "Okay, relatively speaking, other than the obvious," he said, pointing to one ear, then lowering his hand.

Trip gave Malcolm a look of disbelief, furrowing his brow, and said, aloud, "Bullshit."

Malcolm smiled slightly. "I'm dizzy and I have a headache. And I'm bored."

Trip grinned back, then looked down at his padd, typing quickly. He looked back up at Malcolm, and motioned with the padd. Then he handed it to Malcolm. "You could read something, or watch a vid."

Malcolm shook his head gently. "That makes my headache worse. And with the dizziness as well, it's hard enough to focus and read what little you've got down there now," he grimaced, handing the padd back to Trip.

Trip typed, "How quickly before you're feeling better?"

"Soon, Phlox said a couple of days."

Trip pointed to his ears. "What about your hearing?" he asked, aloud.

Malcolm shrugged, looking away from Trip. "It might come back."

Trip hesitated, looking at Malcolm cautiously. Then he spent some time with his padd, writing slowly, and handed the padd to Malcolm. "Phlox didn't seem too hopeful." He watched Malcolm, gauging his reaction.

Malcolm just stared down at the padd.

Trip reached over, sliding the device out of his hands. Trip typed, "Did you hear me?" and handed padd back to him.

Malcolm looked up at him, angry. "Yeah, I heard you," he spat, shoving the padd back to his friend. Then he looked at Trip oddly, and snickered, no humour in his eyes. "Actually, I didn't hear you at all. That's sort of the crux of it, isn't it?"

Malcolm sat on the biobed, frustrated. "It's been five days, doctor," he said, an edge in his voice.

Phlox nodded. He typed something into his padd, and then handed that to his patient.

Trip stood next to Malcolm, who was sitting in a chair in sickbay with his back to him, a padd in his hand. He was staring straight ahead, unmoving.

Trip put his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. When his friend didn't respond, he stepped away, grasping the back of a nearby chair and pulling it in front of the other man, right in the path of his stare. Trip sat, smiling, then froze, shocked. Malcolm was crying.

Trip grabbed his hand. Malcolm stared at him, his eyes glistening. Then he started speaking.

"Phlox believes it's permanent."

Hoshi walked into sickbay and stepped to Malcolm's bedside. He was curled up on his side, the covers up over his shoulders, facing the door with his eyes open. He watched her as she approached, his eyes flat, expressionless. Standing beside him, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

He closed his eyes and turned away. She sighed.

Hoshi stepped into Phlox's office. "You asked to see me, doctor?"

Phlox nodded from his chair behind the desk, waving his guest into a seat. "I'm hoping that you can help me with Mr. Reed."

She nodded. "How can I help?"

"Right now he's profoundly deaf. Due to the type of injury, the type of hearing loss he's experienced, hearing aides, implants and the like probably won't help him very much. He'll need to lip read, or use sign, or both. I was hoping that you could help him..."

Hoshi looked shocked. "But I thought...I mean, his hearing might come back."

Phlox leaned forward across his desk. "That's possible, but extremely unlikely at this point. We need to operate under the assumption that it won't."

She nodded, clearly upset.

Phlox smiled at her gently. "He's going to need to find a way to communicate with the people around him. With your experience with languages, I'm hoping that you can act as his tutor until we return to Earth."

Hoshi sighed, shaking her head. "I know American Sign Language, but that's the only one I know, and I'm hardly fluent. I don't know anything at all about lip reading."

"Still, I think you're probably the best qualified on the ship." Seeing Hoshi's doubtful expression, the doctor continued. "I have materials that I will give you on lip reading which should at least get you both started."

Trip sat beside Malcolm in his room, trying to engage him in conversation. "So then Goldstein said, and you won't believe this..." he typed on his padd.

Malcolm interrupted him, saying softly. "Why do you come here?"

Trip looked up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?" he asked, raising his eyebrows to clue Malcolm in to the fact that he'd asked a question.

"I've told you that I want to be left alone. So why do you come here?"

Trip sighed and said, "Listen, Malcolm, there's nothing you can say that will make me..."

Malcolm interrupted, pointing fiercely at Trip's padd as he turned away in anger and frustration.

Trip sighed again, and started typing on his padd. "Do you remember when you got this injury? I know that you can't remember most of it, but I do. Vividly. I was the one that sent you into that room. So I'm responsible for you, for all this." He looked up at his friend, who was still staring at nothing, his eyes stormy. Trip started typing again. "And not only that, but you're my friend, and I care about you. I'm not going to just let you close yourself off from everyone and everything." He stopped typing, and glanced at Malcolm. "Being deaf hasn't changed who you are. And I like who you are." He smiled. "And I'm a stubborn bastard." Trip handed Malcolm the padd.

Malcolm read Trip's words, then looked up at him, his anger gone, but his eyes dull.

Trip smiled gently. "You can't get rid of me."

Malcolm tried to smile. "I know, believe me, I've tried."

Trip laughed.

Phlox had asked Jon, Trip and Hoshi to join him in his office. He turned to Jon. "He'll need to work on lipreading. It would also be nice if he knew a bit of a deaf language as well..."

"What do you mean?" interrupted Trip.

Hoshi jumped in. "Like ASL, um, American Sign Language." She turned to Phlox. "I doubt he knows that, since he's British. He might know a little British Sign Language—I should ask him."

"Is there a difference?" Jon asked.

"A big difference," Hoshi said, nodding. "The two languages are completely unrelated. ASL is actually more closely related to the French, because historically..." seeing the captain's impatient look, she decided to skip the rest of the details. She turned to the group. "Do any of you know any sign?"

Trip nodded. "A little, but I was never any good, and now I'm rusty."

She smiled. "You'll improve with practice. There are a few others on board who know either some ASL or else Signed English, so that will help as well."

Jon nodded. "We can't return to Earth just yet, so speech therapy will have to wait. Phlox has given Hoshi some materials, and she'll start working with him on lipreading, and perhaps some sign if he's interested."

Hoshi nodded. "I'll talk to him after this meeting. If he can learn to lipread a bit, maybe some sign, he won't feel so cut off, I hope, and it'll be a lot easier to communicate that way than through text."

Hoshi stepped into the observation lounge, her padd in her hand as she looked towards Malcolm. He was sitting, unmoving, the room dim around him. Although he was facing the window, he wasn't watching the view. Instead, he was simply sitting on the couch, his legs pulled up in front of him, his arms wrapped around them, his eyes closed.

She took this opportunity, unseen, to observe him. He was wearing civilian clothes, which was unusual enough, but he also looked just a bit, well, scruffy. Although he was clean-shaven, his hair was tousled, his clothing was just slightly ragged, and he looked drawn, tired. She sighed.

She typed into her padd, then walked to Malcolm's side, stamping her foot once as she approached to let him know that she was coming, hoping that, even if his hearing was too damaged to hear her approach, he could feel the vibration.

Malcolm opened his eyes, catching her gaze in her reflection in the window in front of him. Without a greeting, expressionless, he looked down.

Hoshi sat next to him, and slid her padd in front of his gaze so that he couldn't help but see it. "Have you been sleeping?"

He shook his head, still not looking at her.

Hoshi pulled her padd back and started typing again. "Eating?" She moved the padd back in front of him.

Without looking at the padd, Malcolm physically turned away from her, cutting off communication. "Please, Hoshi," he said softly.

She reached out one hand, laying it carefully on his arm, and he flinched, pulling away. She typed into her padd, then tried to slide it in front of him, but he closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly and wincing.

"All right, Malcolm," Hoshi murmured, knowing that he couldn't hear her. She stood and left the room.

Trip slid onto the couch beside Malcolm, trying not to wake him. He wasn't sure, but he strongly suspected that his friend hadn't gone back to his cabin last night, instead spending the time here in the observation lounge. He still seemed to be wearing the outfit that Hoshi had last seen him in. He thought that she was right; Malcolm was sinking deeper into a depression. She was right to be concerned.

Trip sat there, waiting for his friend to awake.

After a while, Trip saw Malcolm stir, then shift, his eyes opening slightly. When he saw the engineer sitting beside him, he looked away quickly.

Trip started typing on his padd. "Have you been here all night?" He tried to hand the padd to Malcolm, but his friend shook his head, keeping his eyes turned away. Trip sighed, peering at Malcolm, then he shook the padd vehemently, placing it on Malcolm's lap.

Malcolm pushed the padd onto the couch, unread.

Trip shook his head, taking a deep breath and picking the padd back up. He then stood and moved directly in front of Malcolm, sitting on the small table in front of the couch, his knees almost touching Malcolm's. When Malcolm kept his face turned away, Trip sighed, then reached out and touched Malcolm's jaw, gently turning his face to his. He caught Malcolm's eye. "You can't go on like this," he said, dropping his hand.

Malcolm shrugged and turned away again.

Trip typed into his padd, then looked up at Malcolm and stomped his foot. Malcolm's eyes connected with his again, and Trip held his padd up in front of the other man. "Phlox wants Hoshi to teach you to lipread."

Malcolm didn't respond, instead just staring back at Trip, his eyes flat.

Trip started typing again, "I'm not going to let you do this, Malcolm. Please, at least meet with her." He held the padd out to Malcolm, who took it, still staring at Trip. Then he lowered his eyes and read. When he was done, he looked back at the engineer.

"Please meet with her," Trip said, pleading. When Malcolm didn't respond, he added, "Once, just once," holding up one finger.

Malcolm nodded, then looked away.

Hoshi stood outside the messhall doors, tamping down her frustration. Despite her best efforts to be sympathetic, she realized that she was actually kind of angry at Malcolm, and she wasn't sure quite how she'd react if he didn't show up for their meeting. She knew that she should be more compassionate, or something, but sometimes she felt like he was deliberately trying to get her. And he needed to learn to communicate with the people around him, if she could just get him to see that. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to enter.

She went into the mess, padd in hand, glad to see the mess almost empty, Malcolm already seated at a table near the window. He still looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes enhanced by his pallor, but she was encouraged to see that he seemed to have made some effort with his appearance. Most importantly, he was there. She stepped toward his table and he looked up at her, unsmiling, his eyes a dull, stormy grey.

Hoshi pulled a chair up in front of him, and they sat facing each other, a small table between them, and her padd on that. "Okay, Malcolm," Hoshi said, picking up the padd. She typed, "I'm glad you came."

Malcolm nodded, indifferent. "I promised Trip," he said brusquely.

Hoshi's eyes flashed angrily, and she said, "Don't do that."

Malcolm wrinkled his brow, confused. "Do what?"

"I'm here to help you. You don't have to be such an arrogant bastard."

Malcolm looked at her in surprise as she looked down at her padd. He hadn't caught all of what she'd said, but her emotions were quite clear. "I'm sorry, Hoshi. I don't mean to..."

She looked up at him. "Actually, I think you do mean to..." At his look of confusion, she stopped, taking a deep breath. "Do you know any sign language?" she finally wrote, sliding the padd to him.

"A little," he replied, careful to be polite. "Not very much."

"British, or American?"

Malcolm shrugged. "British, of course."

"Well, unfortunately," Hoshi wrote, "All of the people on board who sign use American Sign Language, and all I know is ASL, so, if you don't mind..." She slid the padd to him, raising one eyebrow as she did so.

"Fabulous," Malcolm said under his breath. "That will be fine," he said louder, with resignation.

Hoshi chose to ignore his sarcasm. "We'll start with lipreading first, anyway," she wrote, passing the padd to him again. She showed the sign for "lipreading," around her mouth.

Malcolm didn't look enthused.

She put down the padd, and demanded, "Try it."

Malcolm looked at her cautiously, then nodded.

Hoshi spoke normally, "I bet you can understand a lot of what I'm saying. Without realizing it, you've been reading lips your whole life." Hoshi made a questioning face. "Now, what did I just say?"

Malcolm paused. "Can you repeat it?"

She nodded and repeated the phrase.

Malcolm nodded. "Um, you said that I can understand what you're saying. Then there was something about my life?" He sat back, frustrated. "I caught only a few words, Hoshi."

"That's about right," Hoshi said aloud, nodding for emphasis. Then she started writing, "You actually did really well. Lipreading is sort of an art—it's a combination of observation, inference, and inspired guesswork. You'll never catch everything, but you'll get better with practice. It also helps if you know the context. Let's try something else."

Malcolm sat at the table in the mess hall by himself, sloshing the drink in his cup, frowning slightly as conversations buzzed around him.

He thought back to his meeting that morning with Hoshi. In a way, he was glad that he'd gone. He laughed slightly, to himself, the barest huff escaping his lips. She certainly wasn't letting him push her around. In fact, he still wasn't sure how she got him to agree to another appointment for tomorrow.

He knew the lipreading would be useful and, in a way, he was kind of looking forward to learning some sign. Of course, it didn't seem to help that he knew a tiny bit of British Sign Language, since she would be teaching him ASL. "Bloody Yanks, taking over the world," Malcolm muttered.

Trip, who was standing behind him, smirked. He moved into Malcolm's view. "Nice," he signed, moving his mouth deliberately as he voiced the word, his expression showing his good-natured sarcasm.

Malcolm set down his glass, irritated. "I'm just frustrated. What little of British Sign I know is, apparently, useless." He laughed, without humour. Seeing Trip's questioning look, he explained, "I'm having to relearn the bloody alphabet," as Trip slid into the seat opposite his. "I'm used to using two hands to fingerspell. You Americans do it with one. It's completely different. And the signs themselves are different as well."

"Not everything," Trip said, smiling. Then he signed, "Thank you."

Malcolm groaned. "Right, so one of the signs is similar," he murmured. "I suppose that's good."

Trip laughed. "Want something to eat?" he said, raising his hand to his mouth with a questioning look on his face.

Malcolm shook his head. "No, thank you."

Trip looked at him sternly. "When did you last eat?"

Malcolm shrugged, pulling his eyes away. "This morning," he said vaguely.

Trip stood suddenly, moving to the serving area and grabbing two plates. He walked back to Malcolm's table and sat, sliding a plate in front of his friend. "Eat," he demanded, sitting again.

Malcolm's eyes flashed. "What, now you're my mum?"

"No, I'm your friend," Trip responded sternly. He turned his face down to his plate, muttering, "Surly bastard."

Malcolm reached across the table, forcefully grabbing the other man's chin and turning his face back up to his, clearly angry. "I can't hear you when you do that."

Trip blinked in surprise. "What do you mean, hear me?"

Malcolm dropped his hand. "I mean, when you turn your head, or look down, your voice goes away."

Trip looked at him, worried.

Malcolm smiled uncomfortably. "I know I can't hear, Trip," he said. "Not really." He turned away.

Malcolm interrupted Hoshi in the middle of one of their lessons. "When people speak to me, I can still hear their voices. I'm not sure that's normal."

"What do you mean?" she asked, pushing her padd away.

He looked down, breaking eye contact. "It's as if, um, I can still hear you when you're talking. Like phantom voices. It's odd." He looked back up at her. "I was trying to explain this to Trip the other day. Bolloxed up that conversation a bit, though." He smiled slightly.

"What else can you hear?"

Malcolm leaned forward, both arms on the table. "The sounds of the ship," he murmured, then paused to listen. "Enterprise is still full of noises. Maybe it's the vibrations," he explained. "Or memories. And I think I can hear things, some things, sometimes."

"Phlox said that's pretty normal. Even the most profoundly deaf may hear noises of various sorts."

Malcolm looked at her in confusion, and Hoshi pulled her padd in front of her, typing. She slid the device in front of him.

Malcolm shook his head. "I think that they're mostly just remembered sounds. Like now, when we're talking—as soon as you turn away, I can't hear anymore."

Hoshi nodded.

Malcolm looked away, silent for a few minutes. After a while, still not looking at her, he said softly, "My speech will regress." He glanced back to her.

Hoshi leaned forward, taking his hand across the table. "Not for a long time. And therapy will help."

He looked down.

Malcolm sat restlessly on the bed in sickbay as Phlox completed his latest examination. "Has there been any improvement?"

The doctor typed on his padd, then handed it to him, "No, still the same. Profound hearing loss, in excess of 90 dB, HL." Malcolm looked up at Phlox. "I'm sorry, lieutenant."

Malcolm nodded, shifting on the bed, and handed the padd back to Phlox.

Phlox looked at his patient, then typed, "As we've discussed before, I don't think that will change."

"What are my options?"

"It's too early," Phlox wrote.

"What about an implant?"

Phlox shook his head, then started typing again. "No. It wouldn't restore normal hearing, anyway, and it might not work at all, considering your type of loss. Would destroy what little hearing you have left, as well as any chance, however remote, of hearing normally again, or being able to try other options. Need to wait."

"How about a hearing aid?"

The doctor considered this, then nodded. He typed, "Might help. Might not. But won't restore normal hearing." Seeing Malcolm's puzzled look, he continued typing. "It may make things louder, but won't make words or sounds clearer."

"I'd like to try."

Phlox nodded. "You'll need to learn to use it, to make sense of the distorted signals your ears receive from the device. Don't expect too much."

Trip and Malcolm walked around engineering, empty but for the night shift. They settled quite near the engines, Trip wearing hearing protection against the loudness of their sound, Malcolm wearing a hearing aid in one ear.

Trip turned to his friend. "What do you hear?"

Malcolm paused, listening. "Um, sort of a throbbing." He looked around at the engines, then turned back to Trip. "It's quite loud in here, isn't it?"

Trip nodded. "Yeah."

Malcolm simply nodded. Trip couldn't read his eyes. Malcolm walked closer to the machinery, turning back to Trip. "What I hear with this hearing aid is basically the sound one would make when banging pots together. Bang bang bang."

Trip nodded, and Malcolm looked away again. Trip tapped him on the shoulder. "Do you think it would be better with two aids?"

Malcolm smiled grimly, shaking his head. "It's hard enough with just the one. I tried two back in sickbay. I actually found that more confusing."

Hoshi looked around the room from the chair she'd drawn up next to Malcolm's bed. The room was neat, although it wasn't quite at the almost-compulsive level of cleanliness she was used to from Malcolm.

She leaned back, putting her padd down on his desk as he settled himself to a seat on his bed.

"I've really been impressed with your lipreading," Hoshi said, making the sign for "lipreading." "It's only been a couple of months. Not everyone does so well."

"It's part of my job, being observant. Still, I probably get only about fifteen to twenty percent of what people actually say. The rest, I suppose..." he shrugged. "I guess."

"We've been working a lot on lipreading," Hoshi said, beginning to sign as she spoke. "Not so much on sign. I think we should try some more sign."

Malcolm frowned and pointed towards her padd. Hoshi shook her head, and instead rephrased what she'd said, again signing as she spoke. "You should learn some more sign. More than fingerspelling and the bit that Trip's taught you."

"Why?"

"It'll help. There are people on board who already know some sign. You could talk to them." She could tell that Malcolm had understood her, although he didn't look convinced of the idea. She leaned towards him. "And if you haven't noticed, trying to lip read all day is exhausting." She signed 'lipread' and 'tired'" as she spoke.

He nodded.

She continued, softly, signing as she went, "And I know that the hearing aids weren't really helping you." Malcolm rubbed his ear. "Yeah, they were useless, and they bothered me. I'd wear them for one day, and my ears would ring for three or four days afterwards."

She smiled encouragingly. "Come on, let's try this. It can't hurt. You already know some signs, more than you think." At his doubting expression, she said firmly, "Let's prove it. We'll play a game."

Malcolm groaned good-naturedly.

Hoshi looked at him, a mock stern expression on her face. "None of that," she said, wagging her finger at him. When he smiled, she said, "How would you sign 'baby?'"

When Malcolm tried a cradling gesture, she nodded.

"Now try 'smile.'"

Malcolm smiled, and used two fingers to trace the grin on his face.

Hoshi nodded.

"Some signs in ASL are like that," she started signing, "'Smile,' 'baby,' 'eat,' 'cut,' 'rain,' all of them like you'd think. But most time they aren't, and you have to learn them." She stopped signing. "Now try 'mother.'"

Malcolm thought, then made a sign. Hoshi shook her head. She repeated the sign he'd just made, saying, "British." Then she made a different sign, saying, "ASL."

Malcolm nodded, repeating the ASL sign.

Hoshi reached for her padd and started typing. "So the signs, from American to British, are different. However, like British, understanding comes from not just knowing the signs on their own, but also the way signs are put together to express thoughts and ideas. Like any other language, you have to learn the structure.

There are two main ways of signing in the US: Signed English, and ASL." She handed the padd to Malcolm. When he finished reading, she smiled. "So, for example," she said, signing a sentence as she said it, "Are you hungry?"

Hoshi reached for the padd and started typing again. "In SE, the signs go in the same order as in English." She held the padd in her lap and signed as she spoke, "Are, you, hungry?"

Picking up the padd again, she wrote, "Easy enough for a hearing person to learn, once you get the signs down. However, in ASL, it's like this: 'Hunger you?'" Without the padd, she signed without speaking, "Hunger you?"

She started typing. "ASL is not English—it's a separate language, with its own grammar and structure. On board, we have people who know both SE and ASL, so I thought it would be a good idea for you to know a little of both. That way you can talk to people."

"Who signs?" Malcolm said after reading her message.

"Me, obviously," Hoshi said, no longer typing. "Trip a little, as you know, but mostly profanity." When Malcolm looked confused, she rephrased. "Trip can swear."

He laughed.

"Um, Rostov, his little sister is deaf, so he knows ASL. And Gonsalves. Her parents and two of her siblings are deaf. She's pretty fluent. Want to try some more?"

Malcolm nodded.

Hoshi signed, not speaking, "Hunger you?" She raised her eyebrows, indicating a question.

He nodded, smiling, and said, "Yes."

Hoshi signed, "Yes," and he repeated the sign.

"Do you want to go to the mess with me?" Hoshi said, and signed. "That was Signed English. Now ASL"

"Mess go to want me?" she signed without speaking.

Malcolm repeated her sentence, then replied, "Yes, I'm famished," using the sign for hunger.

"Captain, I was wondering," Trip said eagerly, sitting across from Jon in the captain's mess. "While we're at the outpost, could some of us get some shore leave?"

Jon looked up from his meal, confused. "It's not a very exciting outpost, Trip. In fact, from what I remember, it's pretty much just a supply depot with a bar. I wouldn't think that most of the crew would find that particularly exciting."

Trip nodded. "I know, but, um, at least it's an Earth outpost. I'm thinking that some of us could use a touch of home."

"Trip, I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea. It's not a very nice place, the bar is pretty rowdy, and we have a lot of work to do here on the ship. I don't think we can spare the time."

Trip leaned forward on the table, his gaze intense. "Look, captain, I'm worried about Malcolm. He's not as depressed as he was, but he's getting kind of closed in." Trip sat back in his chair. "So much of our social lives here—movie night, karaoke—depends on being able to hear." He leaned forward again and dropped his voice. "I'm thinking he needs a diversion. To be where people are, and where being able to hear is less important."

Jon looked confused. "What do you have in mind?"

Trip grinned. "Have you actually been to the bar down there?"

Jon nodded. "Pretty seedy."

"But it's also pretty darn loud. In fact, it's almost impossible to hear. Carrying on a conversation, well, half the time you have to read lips. I thought..."

Jon interrupted him. "I see where you're going with this. Fine, but it'll have to be a very limited shore leave."

Trip nodded, smiling as he stood. As he turned to the door, Jon called him back.

"I want you to stick with him."

Trip nodded again. "Thanks, captain."

"Come on, Malcolm. Please." Trip had just explained about the shore leave, inviting Malcolm down to the bar. His friend did not look enthused. "It'll be fun. It's pretty wild, kind of seedy. I know you like that."

When Malcolm didn't look convinced, he added his trump card. "I promised Hoshi that you'd go."

Malcolm chucked, raising an eyebrow and saying, "Hoshi will be there?"

Trip nodded.

"Does she know that I'll be there?"

Trip nodded again.

"Okay, okay," Malcolm signed, smiling.

"Hoshi, it'll be fun, I promise. There's dancing." Trip cajoled. He had just told Hoshi about the bar, inviting her down to join him and Malcolm.

"Nah, I don't really like that kind of scene. I've heard that place is pretty seedy," Hoshi said, unconvinced. "Their bathrooms are legendary."

"Come on, Hoshi, please. I could use the break."

"I really can't anyway. I'm way behind in my work."

Trip added his final card. "I promised Malcolm that you'd be there."

She looked at him, askance. "And that's supposed to make me want to go?" At his plaintive look, she laughed, rolling her eyes. "Fine, fine, fine."

He'd been right, Trip smiled to himself, walking through the crowd towards the facilities at the back of the room. The bar was loud, ear splitting, actually, and packed with people, mostly human. He glanced behind him, seeing Malcolm pushing his way through the crowd looking for a table while Hoshi stood at the bar, trying to catch the barman's eye so she could order some drinks.

As Trip watched, Malcolm stopped moving, peering over the heads of the crowd as he looked for an empty table. Trip saw a large, burly man stop quickly behind him, trying to get past. The man said something to the back of Malcolm's head, and when he didn't get a response, said it again. Then he tapped Malcolm on the shoulder, hard, belligerently repeating his comment as Malcolm turned. As Trip started walking towards them, hoping to avert a fight, he saw Malcolm give the man an apologetic look, then move his right index finger to touch near his right ear, then bring it forward, down his cheek, to the side of his mouth, then pointing at himself and saying the word "deaf". Trip stopped as he saw the other man back down, contrite, clearly saying, "Sorry."

Trip slid into the chair beside Malcolm just as Hoshi turned from the bar with the drinks. Malcolm waved to get her attention, and she moved towards them, carefully balancing the glasses as she moved through the crowd. She smiled as she set the beverages on the table. "Crowded," she said, trying to be heard over the buzz of the conversations around them.

Trip nodded. "Loud," he added, taking a sip from the beer Hoshi handed him.

Malcolm looked up from his drink as lights around them started flashing. Hoshi smiled at him as music started thumping in the background. "Can you hear that?" she asked him.

Malcolm smiled. "No, but I can feel it," he said, placing his hand against his ribcage and grinning.

"Do you want to dance?" Hoshi asked him, signing as she spoke.

Malcolm shook his head. "Nah," he said, twisting to look behind him when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

A dark-haired, attractive woman stood there, smiling at him. "Hi," she said, waving as she glanced around at Trip and Hoshi, then back to Malcolm. "My friend," she turned, pointing at the guy who bothered Malcolm earlier, then smiling and waving at him. The man lifted his drink, acknowledging her. She turned back to Malcolm. "He told me you're deaf." She made the sign for "deaf," then pointed to Malcolm. She smiled broadly. "Me, too," she said, making a sign, back and forth, taking in them both. Then she stopped speaking aloud, asking him a question in sign as she slid into the chair next to his. "Sign you?"

Malcolm shook his head, signing, "Little bit, terrible."

The woman smiled. She then spoke, signing, "Lipread?"

Malcolm grimaced, signing, "Little bit" again.

She peered into his eyes. She signed, not speaking aloud. "That's okay. You're cute."

Hoshi giggled as Malcolm blushed.

Trip turned to Hoshi. "What did she say?"

Hoshi turned to explain to Trip, leaving Malcolm and the woman to their conversation.

"What's your name?" Malcolm asked.

"Juanita," she fingerspelled. "What's yours?"

"Malcolm."

She smiled. "Malcolm," she spelled. "Do you have a name sign?" When he shook his head, she took her hand, putting it near her eyes, making an "M" with her fingers. "Malcolm," she said aloud. "Because of your eyes." She smiled at him softly. "Do you want to dance?" she asked, signing, "dance" and raising her eyebrows.

Malcolm looked at her, puzzled. "But I can't hear the music."

"Doesn't matter," she signed, then she tugged on his hand. He stood, and she led him to the dance floor just as the music changed to a slow dance. She stood there, watching the others move, then pulled him towards her, close.

Malcolm was stiff at first, then he relaxed, and Juanita laid her head on his shoulder. He saw Hoshi and Trip still sitting at the table, and he grinned at them, and then closed his eyes, lost in the moment.

Hoshi walked between Malcolm and Trip, laughing as they joked, sometimes speaking out loud, sometimes in sign, on their way to the shuttle. She smiled, thinking back on the night. It had been a long time since she'd gone dancing, and once Juanita had broken the ice, she and Trip had difficulty keeping up with Malcolm, who spent the rest of the evening dancing, quite obviously having a blast.

She was exhausted, and sweaty. She glanced at Malcolm. He looked happy, a slight bounce in his step as he looked past her, replying to a comment from Trip. As they passed a bathroom, Malcolm waved towards it, his face framing a question. When they both shook their heads, he went in alone.

Trip leaned against the wall and Hoshi stood opposite him as they waited.

"He seems to be doing better," Trip said, nodding towards the bathroom door.

"Yeah, especially lately." Hoshi smiled at him warmly. "And tonight was a great idea, Trip."

He nodded, smiling back at her. "Yeah, I just wanted to show him that being deaf, that doesn't have to mean the end of the world, you know?"

Hoshi nodded.

"How are his lessons going?"

"Much better. His attitude has really improved, which makes the lessons smoother, at least for me," she chuckled. "At the beginning, he was such an ass...half the time, I didn't know whether I was angry with him, or sympathetic."

Trip nodded knowingly. "Yeah, he does sometimes have a certain way about him..."

"What, snarky?"

Trip laughed. "So true, so true. It's like, some of his comments make me roll on the floor laughing, while others make me want to sock him. But he does have some redeeming qualities."

"Yeah, like what?"

"I don't know...um, nice eyes?"

Hoshi burst out laughing.

Malcolm entered the dimly lit bathroom, noticing that all the stall doors were partially shut and appeared empty. He smiled, glad to see that, for a public bathroom, the place was relatively clean, and he moved towards the urinals on the wall opposite the stalls.

He saw a sudden flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, too late for him to react, and he was pushed from behind, his head smashing into his arm as he tried to cushion his fall. Then he was face down on the floor, the man above him holding him down, wrenching his arm back.

Trip pushed himself away from the wall. "Jeez, he is taking his sweet time in there, isn't he?" He stepped towards the door. "I'm going to poke my head on in, see what's keeping him."

Hoshi nodded.

Trip pushed open the door, then stopped when he felt it hit something.

Malcolm felt the man above him start as the door next to them opened, grazing his assailant's hip. He took the opportunity the distraction afforded him, twisting up and pulling his attacker down violently. He felt the thud as the man hit the floor, his head cracking against the tile. He smiled.

Trip pushed at the door again, hearing a muffled "thump," and the door swung freely, revealing Malcolm hovering over an unconscious man, his stance aggressive, fists clenched, a cold smile on his face. Trip stepped into the room and Malcolm looked up. Trip noticed that his clothing was rumpled, his shirt untucked. He had a bloody nose, as well as a red mark on his cheek that would bruise nastily.

Trip felt, rather than saw, Hoshi as she moved in beside him. He heard her intake of breath as she reviewed the scene.

"Are you okay?" she asked Malcolm.

He straightened up, relaxing his fists, and nodded slightly.

"What the hell happened?" Trip asked.

Malcolm shrugged, turning to the sink. He turned on the water, his hands shaking, then leaned on the edge of the sink and closed his eyes as he tried to calm his breathing.

Hoshi turned to Trip. "I'm going to contact the authorities."

He nodded as she stepped outside the room. Then he turned back to Malcolm, who was now staring into the mirror, his face cool, but his eyes showing his shock. The water was still running.

Trip peered down at the man on the floor, who still seemed to be solidly unconscious. He stepped over him, carefully, then made his way to Malcolm's side. Trip touched him on the shoulder and he flinched away from his hand, his eyes meeting Trip's in the mirror. His calm voice belying his trembling, Malcolm said, "Please don't touch me," as he looked down at the water, finally starting to wash his hands. He finished, grabbing a towel and wiping them dry. He then used that towel to wipe the blood that was drying below his nose. He turned to Trip as he threw the towel into a bin, just past the prone man. "I didn't hear him coming," he said flatly, with an incongruous smile. Then he walked past Trip, stepping over the man, pulling open the door and leaving the room. The door shut softly behind him.

Trip walked into the hallway to see Malcolm sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, staring straight ahead as Hoshi lead some people in uniform towards him. She crouched down beside him as the authorities started asking him questions.

Trip stepped closer, catching part of what Malcolm was saying, his voice oddly matter-of-fact. "I thought the room was empty. I saw movement, but it was too late..."

He was in the lav, facing the urinals, and he heard someone move behind him. He turned in time to see a man rushing towards him, and he attacked, pushing the man aside and down, hearing a satisfying "crack" as his assailant's head hit the tile.

Malcolm jerked awake, sitting straight up in bed before he realized that he was alone, in his room, the lights off, the vibrations of the ship all around him.

It had been that same dream again.

He took a deep breath, trying to control his shaking, to put the dream out of his mind. He'd been trying not to think about the mugging, although it kept creeping into his thoughts, and he couldn't seem to stop dreaming about it, although in his dreams, he could hear; he heard the attacker move, and he was able to react more quickly. He shook his head, trying to clear the images; seeing the sudden movement, too late to shield himself; being pushed down, and held there, unable to defend himself, to control the situation.

Malcolm lay back down, curling up on his side, pulling the covers up over his head and closing his eyes. How could he protect others, when he couldn't even protect himself? He sighed, then drifted. Eventually, he slept.

In his dream, he watched the man's blood pool around his head. In his dream, he heard the man's harsh breath slow, then still. In his dream, he smiled.

Trip sat next to Malcolm on the bed, beer in hand as they watched a film. It was an old Japanese monster vid, one of the few they had in the archives that had subtitles.

At a lull in the action, Malcolm waved to Trip, then made a sign with a questioning look on his face, a slightly wicked glint in his eye. Trip laughed. The sign Malcolm had used was an impolite slang term for urinate. Trip nodded, pausing the film, and Malcolm slid off the bed, entering the nearby lav.

Trip stared at the frozen image, contemplating his friend. Malcolm hadn't spoken to him about the attack. As far as he knew, since they returned to the ship and Phlox had checked him over, Malcolm hadn't spoken to anyone about it.

Malcolm returned to the room, sliding back onto the bed beside Trip. "Good film, that," he signed, smiling.

"I thought you'd like it," Trip said, nodding.

Malcolm smiled gently, signing, "I'm not sure it's something I'd have chosen."

"What do you mean? I picked it specially."

Malcolm spoke aloud, "No, no, I quite like it. It's just different."

Trip smiled, turning back to restart the film. Instead, he reconsidered, putting the controller down and turning to fully face Malcolm. "How've you been doing, lately?"

Malcolm shrugged, then started signing, "Fine, I suppose. Considering."

Trip nodded, taking a sip from his beer. Then he asked, signing carefully, "When you were attacked, why didn't you call for help?"

Malcolm stared at his friend, surprised by the question. He thought a moment, and finally said, "You know, I didn't even think to shout." He shrugged. "It happened so quickly." He glanced away from Trip, then back.

Trip hesitated, then he said, "I should have gone in there with..."

Malcolm cut him off with a wave, signing, "No. That would have left Hoshi alone." When Trip tried to reply, Malcolm continued, "I should be able to take care of myself." He broke his gaze from Trip's, reaching to grasp the beer on the table next to him.

Trip swirled the beer in his own bottle, watching the liquid move against the glass. He took a drink, then spoke. "I've noticed that you don't talk as much as you used to, especially since the attack. I was wondering if there was some sort of connection."

Malcolm looked at Trip, puzzled, and then he put down his, now empty, bottle. "What do you mean? I talk more, especially lately. Hoshi, you, Gonsalves..."

Trip interrupted him, shaking his head. "Yeah, you've been talking—he made the sign for "sign,"—but you haven't really been talking—he made the sign for "speech."

"Oh," Malcolm said, silently mouthing the word. He paused for a moment, thinking, then he shrugged and started speaking aloud. "I don't think there's a connection. When I'm with people who sign, it's just easier not to talk."

Trip nodded, doubtfully.

Seeing Trip's expression, Malcolm smiled. "Actually, I guess part of it is I'm getting self-conscious about my voice, so maybe I'm using it less. In the months since my accident..."

Trip interrupted him. "What's wrong with your voice? You have a great voice. In fact, I know several people who are quite smitten with your accent," he said with a hint of a smirk.

Malcolm laughed. "Yes, there is that." Then he sobered, leaning forwards slightly. "But I can't hear myself, so I don't know what I sound like. Am I being too loud for the situation, or not speaking loudly enough?" He hesitated, then continued more quietly, "Is my voice the same, or am I already speaking differently?"

"The speech therapy will help, I think, once you get back home."

Malcolm looked away, breaking eye contact with Trip. "I'm trying not to think about that, actually."

"The therapy?"

"Going home." He turned back to face Trip, his eyes burning. "I don't know what I'll do once I'm there." He looked away again, staring blankly at the images frozen on the screen. "I'm kind of, um, lost." He smiled sadly, his eyes dark.

Trip nodded.

"May I have another beer?" At Trip's nod, Malcolm slid off the bed, bending to the refrigeration unit and pulling out another bottle. He turned back to Trip, "Need one?" Trip shook his head, and Malcolm stood and returned to the bed. He opened the bottle and took a long drink. He glanced at the screen, then back to Trip. "I would have killed him if you hadn't come in when you did."

It took Trip a moment to catch up to Malcolm in the conversation. Then he replied, "Nah, you wouldn't have."

Malcolm looked at Trip, his eyes intense. "I was glad when his head hit the tile. More than glad," he said with a cold smile. "I'd wished I had time to do more." Malcolm turned to the screen, watching the frozen image. "I'd go back there now if I could."

Trip took a careful sip of his beer, peering at his friend over the top of his bottle.

After a quiet moment, Malcolm spoke again, still not looking at Trip. "Actually, I'm not sure what I'd have done." Then he blinked, quickly, and nodded toward the screen. "The vid, Trip."

Trip watched his friend stare at the screen. Then he nodded, starting the film again.

"I'd like to speak to you about Mr. Reed," Phlox said, sitting down in the ready room across from Jon.

The captain nodded. "Has there been any change?"

Phlox shook his head. "His hearing is still the same. However, I have been corresponding with some researchers who may have a new method that might help him."

Jon sat forward in his chair.

Phlox held his hands up. "I'm loath to try it. It's experimental, first of all, and it may not work."

"Still, I think that Malcolm would be eager to try."

Phlox shook his head. "It's not without risk. If the procedure fails, it will destroy what residual hearing he has left. In addition, if it doesn't work, it will make it highly likely that he can not recover his hearing through any other method."

Jon nodded. "Perhaps you should talk to Malcolm about it; let him make the decision."

Malcolm sat on the biobed, nervously gripping its edge. "But my hearing still might come back on its own."

Phlox shook his head. "As we've discussed, that's not likely to happen.

Malcolm nodded.

"You should understand that this procedure is risky. It may restore your hearing entirely, or only partially. Or, and there is a very strong chance of this, it may end up destroying any residual hearing that you have left. It will eliminate any chance, however slight, of your hearing coming back on its own."

Malcolm nodded again. "So, in the worst case, I'd still be profoundly deaf, right?"

Phlox nodded. "I have some information here," he handed Malcolm a padd. "Please read this. Then we can talk again."

Phlox stepped away, stopping when he heard "Doctor?"

He turned back to his patient.

"If I decide to do this, how soon do you think you'd be ready?"

The doctor paused. "Possibly as early as next week."

Malcolm nodded, looking down at the padd.

Trip entered the observation lounge, seeing Malcolm sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the table in front of him, staring out at the stars. There was a padd on the seat beside him, illuminated.

Trip stepped to the couch, catching Malcolm's eye in the reflection from the window and smiling.

Malcolm smiled and waved, indicating that Trip should join him on the couch. Trip did, and they both sat there, staring out at the view.

After a while, Malcolm spoke. "Phlox talked to me about a procedure that might restore my hearing."

"That's great, Malcolm." Trip turned to see Malcolm watching him thoughtfully. "So, what's the problem?"

"Even if it's successful, I still might not be able to hear well. The change might be negligible. And Phlox said that there's a high probability that it might not work at all. If that's the case, then my hearing will be gone permanently, with no chance of it coming back."

Trip nodded, wincing slightly. "What do you want to do?"

Malcolm didn't respond at first, and Trip wasn't sure if he'd understood. He just sat there, looking at Trip. Then he looked away at the stars again.

"I think I want to take the risk."

Hoshi looked up and smiled as Malcolm entered the observation lounge, right on time for their appointment. "I'm almost surprised to see you," she said.

"Why?" he answered, signing quickly as he settled into the seat across from hers.

"You're having your surgery tomorrow. I guess I thought you'd skip this lesson."

Malcolm smiled, although Hoshi could see that the smile didn't reach his eyes. In fact, as she looked at him more closely, she realized that he looked quite nervous. He shifted in his chair. "I wanted to be doing something positive. I've been obsessing about the surgery all day." He shrugged. "I felt like I needed to do something. And anyway, it might not work, the surgery."

Hoshi's eyes searched his. "You know you don't have to do it."

"Actually, I do," he said, his voice rising slightly. "Without my hearing, it's like I'm..." he let his voice trail off, hesitating.

"Deaf people can do anything that hearing people can..."

Malcolm cut her off, shaking his head. "Except hear. And I can't stay in Starfleet, I can't protect the ship, and its crew, if I can't hear." He leaned forward. "I couldn't even protect myself."

Hoshi looked at him warily. "What if it doesn't work?"

"It has to work," Malcolm replied adamantly.

Hoshi tore her gaze from his, uncomfortable and unsure of how to respond, and looked down at her padd, reviewing her notes. Malcolm interrupted her, waving to catch her attention.

"I also wanted to come because I wanted to tell you how much I've appreciated everything you've done for me. I know that I've been a real, um..."

Hoshi smiled slightly when he hesitated, and cut in. "Asshole?"

Malcolm blushed. "I was thinking worse, actually. So...thank you for..."

Hoshi interrupted again. "Refusing to leave you alone?"

He smiled at her. "Basically, yes."

• "So how did it go, doc?" Trip asked, staring anxiously at Malcolm from across the room.

"We'll have to wait until he wakes up. And even then, it may take a few days for the swelling to go down, and for him to realize the full effects of the surgery."

"Is it okay if I sit with him for a while?"

Phlox nodded.

Trip grabbed a chair, dragging it next to Malcolm's bed.

"Hmm...," Trip hummed vacantly as he sat beside Malcolm's bed, typing into his padd. He stopped when he heard Malcolm moan, then stir.

Malcolm's eyes opened slightly. "What are you doing?" he mumbled, turning his head in Trip's direction.

Trip stood, moving closer to Malcolm so that his friend could see him as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. I didn't realize that you were awake."

Malcolm closed his eyes. "I think I can hear you," he said softly. "You sound really far away, muffled," he yawned, "And I'm not sure I quite caught what you said." His eyes still closed, he said, "Can you say something again?"

Trip grinned. "Sure, Malcolm. What would you like me to say?"

Malcolm smiled and opened his eyes. "Anything you say sounds wonderful, commander. Despite the accent."

Malcolm sat on the couch in the observation lounge, his eyes closed, holding himself still as he simply sat there, listening to the sounds of the ship around him, the soft buzz of conversation behind him. He sighed, opening his eyes only when he heard someone approach. He smiled as Hoshi settled next to him, a package in her hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Listening," he replied softly. "I'd almost forgotten."

"I figured you'd be off listening to music, or a film, or something big like that."

Malcolm shook his head. "Nah, this is good. I didn't realize how much I missed this," he waved to encompass the room around him.

Hoshi smiled. "I brought you something," she said as she held the package towards him. At his questioning look, she shook the box. "Take it. I ordered it special."

Malcolm gave her a half-smile and took the package, sliding off its wrapper and pulling out a recording. He read the label, then looked up at her, confused. "What is this?"

"The Acadian Euphonium and Tuba Quintet Do Christmas," Hoshi replied brightly, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"Yes, I can see that," he replied, "But, um, what is it?"

Hoshi smiled at him innocently. "I wanted to give you something truly unusual to listen to. Something you've never heard before." She laughed lightly. "Something you'd remember, to mark the occasion of the return of your hearing."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Well, it certainly is different. Thank you." Hoshi stood as he looked back down at the recording, reading the list of songs, then back to her. "What are you doing right now?"

Hoshi paused, then said guardedly, "Why?"

He held up the recording. "Because if I have to listen to this, then you certainly..."

Hoshi started backing away, laughing slightly as she said, "Oh, no."

Malcolm grinned evilly, standing and stepping towards her, the recording in his hand. "Oh, yes."