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Title: Insomnia
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise
Rating: PG
Character: Malcolm Reed, ensemble
Category: General, Humour, Action/Adventure, tiny bit of angst at the end :(
Spoilers: None. Could be set in season one, or after return to earth from xindi mission.
Summary: Malcolm can't sleep. He's tried everything he can think of from warm milk to boring books. Additionally on his midmorning insomnia induced walks he keeps bumping into his least favourite crewman, can she help his insomnia and get him through first contact with new friends the Pentrillans?
A/N: Not a sequel to, but in the same universe as Target Practise and Run of the Ship which introduces the OFC Crewman Angela Robertson, who Malcolm has no particular affinity for :)
--PART 1--
Malcolm made his way to the mess unhappily. He had nothing personally against Enterprise hosting gala events for alien dignitaries, just as long as he didn’t have to attend. With a sigh he opened the door to the mess and entered.
Archer appeared to be regaling a group of the Pentrillans with some story or another, whilst Hoshi appeared deep in conversation with a couple of others. Travis was sitting at a table accompanied by four of the aliens and looked to be introducing them to human food.
"Malcolm!" He turned round to face Trip who was walking towards him.
"Commander," he acknowledged. "How goes the mingling?"
"Not too bad," Trip grinned. "They’re nice enough. A little dull though," he added, pitching his voice quieter.
"That makes a welcome change then," he responded before stifling a yawn.
"See, you haven’t even spoken to one of them yet and you’ve practically fallen asleep," Tucker grinned. Malcolm rolled his eyes and mustered up a small smile.
"It must be airborne."
"We’ll have to tell Phlox to be more careful when he screens new arrivals."
Malcolm smiled at their interplay as he leaned back against the wall tiredly, before stifling another yawn. Trip looked at him closely.
"You’re still not sleeping are you?" he asked. Malcolm ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, looking away.
"I’m fine."
"Okay, but you’re not sleepin’ are you?"
Malcolm sighed, "No," he said.
"You need to go and see Phlox," Trip said sternly.
"Yes, I know."
"Come on then," he said expectantly.
"Now!"
"Yes now, I don’t trust you to go by yourself," he said. "And they don’t need us here at the moment, the Cap’n will call us over the comm. if he does."
"But-"
"No arguing with me on this Malcolm. I’ll make it an order if I have to," he said sternly.
"Yes sir," Malcolm replied, picking himself up from against the wall and turning to the door.
* * *
"Well I’m not sure what I can recommend," Phlox said with a frown. "Unless… I’ve just read the excretions of-"
"No!" Malcolm exclaimed. "No thank you, Doctor."
"T’Pol helped Commander Tucker when he was losing sleep with neuropressure," Out of the corner of his eye Malcolm saw Trip’s eyes widen and he stood up from the wall he’d been leaning against. "But that had a clearly defined cause, and I doubt she’d be willing to do that again anyway…" Malcolm swore he heard Trip exhale.
"Well, thanks anyway," Malcolm said, standing up from the bio-bed.
"Not so fast Lieutenant," Phlox said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down. "We still need to find a solution. If you were married perhaps…" Phlox trailed off and Malcolm rolled his eyes.
"Yes, yes. Sex is a cure for insomnia, so I’ve heard," he said and heard Trip chuckle. "But seeing as I’m not willing to break the anti-frat. reg’s, the only people that leaves open to me are Lieutenant Hess, you and Porthos."
"And you and Lieutenant Hess don’t get on?" Phlox enquired.
"Oh for Pete’s sake!" Malcolm exclaimed, standing up again and managing to step away before Phlox could stop him.
"Malcolm," Trip said warningly from the door.
"Perhaps a simple massage would help? Rather than neuoropressure or sexual intercourse," Phlox suggested. Malcolm smirked and almost turned round to say to Trip that he thought they were the same thing.
"Right, I’ll just go and make an appointment with the onboard masseuse," Malcolm snarked.
"I’ll ask around, I’m sure there’s somebody suitably qualified," Phlox smiled.
"Ask around?" Malcolm asked incredulously. "You intend to inform the entire crew that I haven’t had more than three hours of sleep for a couple of months?" he asked angrily. "And like they’ll be anyone ‘suitably qualified’ onboard anyway-"
"Angela Robertson used to work in her cousins beauty parlour," Trip interrupted Malcolm’s tirade.
"Perfect!" Phloz exclaimed.
"What?" Malcolm looked between the two. "Oh no no no no…"
* * *
"Come on Malcolm what’s the big deal?" Trip asked as they headed back to the mess hall. Malcolm glared at him. "Seriously, I don’t see the problem! Bedtime massages from an attractive woman, where’s the problem?" he asked with a grin.
Malcolm stayed silent and picked up the pace. Trip matched it.
"Or is that the problem?" Trip asked with a devious grin. "Does Malcolm have a thing for Angela?"
"What?" How could he possibly….? "She’s the most irritating woman I’ve ever met!" he exclaimed.
"Oohhh, I’m seeing all that arguing in a different light now!" Trip continued, completely ignoring him. "Oh, and back a few months ago when you were supervising target practice sessions and she said you’d been looking at her legs!" Trip said excitedly.
"Oh for- She was wearing a mini skirt!" he exclaimed.
"And back when the Larackians commandeered the ship, Travis said you two were getting pretty cosy!" he exclaimed happily.
"She leant on me in her sleep!" Malcolm defended.
"Oh it all fits together," Trip grinned.
Malcolm was getting slightly worried at the manic expression on his friends face and decided that he was never going to bring up the time she kissed him in order to shock him into consciousness. He doubted it would matter to Trip that he had recoiled so much in his horror that he had fallen off his chair.
"Oh look, the mess hall," he said with relief as they approached the door. "Time to mingle," he said, before practically sprinted his way in and promptly hiding inconspicuously behind Travis until Trip was pulled aside by the Captain to join in his conversation with the Pentrillans.
* * *
Malcolm watched the stars streak pass the windows as he drank his tea.
"Hiya Malcom," Trip greeted. "Mind if we join you?" he said indicating himself and Travis. Malcolm shrugged and waved at two empty chairs at the table.
"Bit late for dinner isn’t it?" he asked referring to their trays.
"We just finished running some pretty endless simulations," Trip replied before taking a bite of his dinner. "So," he said threw a mouthful of food. "Isn’t tonight the big da-"
"Say it and die," Malcolm interrupted. Travis’ eyebrow shot up.
"You wouldn’t be so touchy about it if there weren’t somethin’ to it," Trip insisted. Travis looked curiously between the two of them, but seemed to know better than to ask.
"I’m not touchy-" Malcolm objected.
"Maybe you should be, she might like it," Trip grinned. Malcolm growled angrily and made to stand up, Trip stuck out a hand and pulled him back down. "I don’t get it. She’s gorgeous, has great legs, curves in all the right places…."
"Maybe you should ask her out," Malcolm suggested venomously. "I’ve got to go," he said, shaking off Trip’s hand and standing up.
"Wouldn’t want to keep Angela waiting now," Trip sing-songed as he left.
* * *
When he got to his quarters Robertson was leaning against the wall outside them. She grinned at him.
"So I haven’t quite decided what you’ll be doing for my as repayment yet, but I’m working on it. I want it to be perfect you know, so I don’t want to rush it," she said happily.
"Are you quite done?" he asked as he opened the door and let them inside.
"For now," she said smugly. "I still can’t believe you agreed to this," she commented as the door slid shut behind them.
"Desperation and sleep deprivation does horrible things to a person," he said dryly.
"Evidently," she agreed. "All right then get your kit off," she ordered, he raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Please sir, would you remove your shirt so I can cure you of your insomnia? Oh pretty please?"
"Yes, yes, that’s enough thank you," Malcolm grimaced before pulling his shirt over his head.
"Not bad," she said after letting out a low whistle. He glared at her. "Sorry, sorry. Okay then Mister Reed, face down on the bed I think." He shook his head but followed her instructions.
* * *
"Sleep well?" Robertson asked the next morning as she sat down next to him in the mess hall.
"Better than usual," he told her. "Thank you," he added reluctantly.
"No problem. I guess I haven’t lost my touch then," she grinned.
"I guess not," he agreed.
"So…. Will you be requiring my services on a regular basis?" she asked with a smirk.
"We’ll leave it for tonight, see if I can sleep any better on my own."
"Sure," she shrugged. "If you can’t sleep, let me know, I’ll probably be about," she smiled.
"Thanks," he said genuinely.
"Right, that’s enough of this ‘friendly’ conversation," she said with a grin as she stood up, Malcolm laughed.
"Definitely."
* * *
"So how was you’re evenin’?" Malcolm looked up from his station on the bridge to look at Trip who was standing next to him.
"Sleep filled," Malcolm answered shortly and looked back down at the screen.
"So you didn’t-"
"Commander!" Malcolm cut him off. "I hardly think the bridge is the place for you to be spreading false rumours. You usually limit yourself to the mess, occasionally the gym…" he trailed off and heard Hoshi giggle and Travis snort. He didn’t need to look up to see that T’Pol was raising a sardonic eyebrow.
"Fine, fine," Trip capitulated. "But this is the end of it," he warned as he stalked off the bridge and entered the turbolift.
* * *
"I have a bad feeling about them," Archer told Malcolm in his ready room after he had got back from a tour of the Pentrillan capital city.
"A bad feeling sir?" Malcolm asked.
"Yeah, I couldn’t put my finger on it. They were hiding something though." Sometimes Archer’s ‘feelings’ were spot on, but they could be beyond irritating when they weren’t specific.
"I’m gathering you’ll be requiring my services then?" Malcolm asked, mentally smirking at his choice of words. He certainly hoped the services he’d be providing Archer were different from those Robertson did for him.
"I’d like to take a security detail down with us tomorrow when we finalise the treaty," Archer said.
"That won’t be a problem, sir," Malcolm responded. "Three, including myself?"
"Sounds good, be in the launch bay at 0900," Archer told him. "Dismissed,"
* * *
Robertson jumped out of the shower at the sounds of her door chime. "Shit, hang on," she muttered, grabbing a towel and wrapping it round her. She opened the door to face Malcolm Reed.
"Sir!" She exclaimed in surprise. He blinked at her, took in her hastily towel clad form and took a step back.
"Right, bad time," he said, unfolding his crossed arms and putting them in his pockets. "I’ll just…." He nodded down the hallway.
"Don’t be stupid, I said anytime, I just figured you’d be too proud to come and ask," she said, stepping back to invite him in.
"Right. Okay, thank you," he said, hesitantly entering.
"I’ll just, you know, go and put some clothes on," she said grabbing a shirt and some track suit bottoms from her closet. "Otherwise this’d be a completely different kind of massage," she grinned as he smirked and headed to the bathroom. "One that would cost a lot more!" she called before the door shut behind her.
When she came back out he was sitting cross-legged on her bed.
"Let’s get to it then," she said with a wave of her hand.
Ten minutes later he was shirtless, face down on her bed, and sound asleep.
"Prat," she muttered, pushing him slightly. He didn’t wake up. "Argh," she complained, glancing between the floor and sliver of bed he’d left empty that was just big enough for her to lay on. Deciding that she was definitely not sleeping on the floor for Malcolm Reed, especially when he had recruited her for guard duty tomorrow, she pushed him over slightly and laid down.
* * *
As Malcolm slowly made his way into consciousness he noted two things. Firstly, he’d had a decent night’s sleep and secondly: there was someone in his bed.
His mind snapped back to a comment he’d made a few days ago to Phlox. Well it wasn’t Porthos, and he doubted Phlox would fit in the bed with him. He stretched out his toes and briefly touched them to the sleeping individual’s, too tall to be Hess.
Then his mind suddenly woke up when the previous evening came back to him. His eyes flew open and met laughing green ones.
"Morning Malcolm," she grinned. "I figured you were awake when you tensed up, I assume with horror because you remembered where you were," she grinned again.
"How come you aren’t recoiling in horror?" he asked, wincing at his rough sleep filled voice.
"Well it's not like being pissy and uptight isn’t contagious, is it?" she said before her eyes widened in mock horror. "It isn’t, is it?"
"It’s to early to have to deal with you," he mumbled into her pillow.
"Hey, no going back to sleep." She kicked him in the shin and he swore angrily. "We’ve got a pre-mission briefing in and hour and a half," she informed him.
"Mmmhmm," he said into the pillow again, before what she’d said registered. "Right," he said groggily, sitting up. He glanced down at her. "Move then."
"That’s nice," she grumbled as she complied. "Share my bed with you and I don’t even get a thank you before you’re kicking me out of it."
He stood up and stretched out his arms behind his back before glancing around the room for his shirt.
"On the floor somewhere," Robertson mumbled. He spotted it and pulled it on over his head as she snuggled back down into her pillow. "Bye Malcolm."
"Don’t be late for the briefing," he warned her. She nodded into the pillow and waved her arm in the general direction of her computer and mumbled ‘alarm’. "Right, see you later," he said before exiting her quarters.
Of course that just happened to be the moment Trip chose to walk down that particular corridor. He stopped dead in his tracks and raised his eyebrows, looking from Malcolm to Robertson’s door, then back again.
Malcolm held up a hand and pointed at him warningly, "Not a word," he said and began walking towards his quarters, which were thankfully only round the corner.
"Oh no no no, Malcolm, you are not gettin’ away that easily," Trip said, catching up in quick strides. "Explain," he ordered.
"I fell asleep," Malcolm said simply as he spotted his door at the end of the corridor and increased his speed.
"Fell asleep? What were you doing there in the first place?"
"You know what I was doing there," he said as they reached his door and opened it. "I fell asleep, I woke up, I left," he said shortly. "Now, I’m going to shower. See you at the briefing Commander," he said and promptly closed the door on Trip’s face.
* * *
Three hours later and Malcolm wished he’d never got out of bed, be it Robertson’s, his or anyone else’s. He and El ran down the back streets of the Pentrillan capital as fast as they could in a bid to escape their pursuers. As it turned out the Pentrillans were close business associates with the Orion’s, in the slave trade business, and believed that a few humans to sell would be very good for business (they obviously weren't well informed about the last time humans had been put up for auction).
Malcolm led them into a sheltered alley and pulled out his communicator. "Reed to Tucker, what’s your situation?"
"Me an’ Smith have managed to shake ‘em. The Cap’n and T’Pol took the shuttlepod back to the ship, they didn’t have a choice. We’re gonna’ have to use the transporter, but they were doing repairs on it and are just trying to put it back right."
"Whenever they’re ready would be brilliant," Malcolm said breathlessly. "Where are you?"
"’Round the back of the hospital building."
"Sir!" Robertson whispered. "That’s just across the street," she pointed to a large building, it’s entrance ensconced in green from the eerie street lights.
"I see it," he told her as he glanced around the seemingly empty street. It would be a risk getting over there with no cover, but it was better than being stuck in a dead-end alley. "Trip we’re in an ally opposite the entrance. ‘Think you could come round and provide us with some cover in case we need it?"
"No problem, on our way. Tucker out."
"C’mon," Malcolm said as he crept out of the alley to look round the corner. "Go, I’ll cover you," he instructed Robertson. She gave him a quick nod before darting out of the ally and across the street to the green building opposite.
Halfway there she threw herself to the ground and a burst of blue light flew over her shoulder. Phaser fire was returned from either side of the Pentrillan hospital as Malcolm ran out to where Robertson was laying on the ground.
"Ela," he whispered urgently and grabbed her shoulders, lifting her up. She groaned in pain. "We’ve got to go." She nodded and he noticed blood trickling down her forehead.
"I’m good, go," she told him as she pulled herself to her feet. They ducked as another shot of blue light flew over their heads. Malcolm span round and fired back, grabbing Robertson by the wrist and pulling her with him, he began running to cover.
A sudden volley of shots came their way and they dropped to the ground to avoid them. When the shots thinned, Malcolm went to stand up again but Robertson didn’t move.
He rolled her over so she was face up and brushed her hair from her face. Green eyes stared lifelessly back at him.
"No," he muttered in shock as he sought out a pulse but was unable to find one.
"Malcolm!" he heard Trip shout from behind him. He looked up just in time to be kicked in the head by one of their pursuers and fall face first to the ground next to Robertson.
He blinked at the stone ground in front of him and glanced to his left where the Pentrillan was lifting Robertson up. He rolled over and tried to reach for his phase pistol but it was gone. He groaned in pain as well as frustration.
The Pentrillan male looked down at him and grinned maliciously, before pressing a button on his wrist device and disappearing before Malcolm’s eyes, with Robertson in tow.
* * *
Malcolm didn’t speak once between the moment they returned to the ship and when he finally got released back to his quarters. The doctor hadn’t known what else to do with him.
He lay flat on his bed, face in his pillow as he replayed the mission in his head. Swearing loudly, he hit the pillow hard with his fist. He rolled over and blinked at where he knew the ceiling to be in his pitch black quarters.
Hours later Malcolm was still staring at the ceiling.
He couldn’t sleep.