A/N: The next update will take longer –I'm taking a break from writing. For now, I hope you'll enjoy this.
IX
"Can you eat normal food, anyway?" Trip asked Malcolm on their way to the Mess Hall.
A week of Reed living solely on Tucker's replicated blood was almost up. Trip couldn't be more grateful for that. He missed the slight pain of Malcolm's fangs nipping him and delight it brought something fierce. Tomorrow. He'll finally be able to have it again tomorrow. A shiver ran through his body and he felt a familiar tingling on the side of his neck. He rubbed the spot. Damn, he couldn't wait to get bitten again.
He somehow managed to focus on Malcolm's reply.
"Yeah, but what's the point? I don't like the taste and I don't need it. Why?"
Trip shrugged. "Just wondering if I can still eat normally."
"Probably. Though I can't really see any point in that either."
Reed was profoundly glad that the week during which he had to drink Phlox's concoction was drawing to an end. It wasn't that bad but having Charles this close and not being allowed to feed directly on him was highly irritating.
Malcolm reined his temper in, suspecting that his testiness was somehow connected to the lack of proper meal for nearly a WEEK! And not just any proper meal. It had to be the other vampire's blood.
He exhaled noisily in annoyance. He should've known that being optimistic never really paid off. And Charles did tell him he was addicted to Malcolm's blood. That he might find himself in a similar state was not impossible.
He wanted to snarl. How stupid could he get?
He still didn't really believe, though, that he was in fact becoming too dependent on Charles. He decided he'd think about it later.
The Mess Hall doors were right in front of them.
Neither Tucker nor Reed came there to eat. Trip had his usual, by now, breakfast courtesy of Malcolm and Reed was pleased to see Trip could control his craving for blood much better now. The sharp and unexpected hunger pangs were also lessening to the point when Trip only needed to eat twice a day. That meant he could return to being on duty full-time and if Phlox saw it otherwise, the Commander was prepared to argue.
Reed had breakfast in Sickbay because although Trip had programmed the replicator in the Mess Hall to serve what they both needed, it was more of an emergency backup. Because no, the Mess probably wasn't the best place for vampires to eat, even if they had no intention to feed on their crewmates.
"Hey, Hoshi," Trip greeted the young woman Malcolm met a couple of days ago.
"Hi," Hoshi smiled brightly at both of them.
Reed sat at her table and turned off his UT. That was another thing he marvelled at. Initially he gave no thought as to how it was possible that those Humans spoke his language, but once he saw the tiny device they called Universal Translator, his respect for their engineers grew substantially.
Ensign Sato having learnt Rahtian in amazingly short time, in Malcolm's opinion, offered to teach him Earth's English. He accepted the offer and to his surprise discovered that the language wasn't as difficult as he thought.
"All right, got a meeting with the Capt'n," Trip headed for the Captain's Mess. "Have fun, you two."
"We will," Reed spoke in English and turned to the linguist.
"You're getting better and better," Hoshi said approvingly.
"Thanks. I have found that the construction of your language is similar to mine. And your Dickens helped too." Half-smirking, Reed tapped the PADD with audiobooks Sato gave him.
"I'm glad you think so," Hishi smiled. She found it amusing that Reed's own alien accent was a little like British English. It wasn't glaringly obvious but her trained ear picked out the sounds easily.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that she should start writing a research paper. Who knew, maybe by some freak incident their languages had common origins. Asking Reed about his planet's history would also be a good idea. She did just that.
xx xx xx
"Take a seat, Trip." Archer smiled amiably at his friend.
He next turned to a steward who brought a plate of scrambled eggs and put it in front of the Captain. "Thank you."
"Do you want something? eggs, juice?" Jon asked Trip while the steward hovered nearby.
"Nah, thanks. I already ate."
Archer shot him a speculative glance but said nothing.
"So," he tucked into his breakfast, "how are you doing? Phlox says you're pretty much ready to go back on duty full time."
"Yeah. Can't wait to get back to the Engineering. Taking a break is good but only if it's not too long."
"I think I know what you mean," the Captain smiled. Then he decided to broach the subject of Trip's roommate. "And how's Malcolm?"
"Good, good," Trip said, wincing a little.
Jon noticed.
"Trip?"
"What?" Tucker looked at him, still grimacing slightly.
"What is it?" Archer prompted.
"Nothing really," Trip sighed. "It's just... It would be better if you didn't call him 'Malcolm' to his face."
That threw Jon completely. He had expected something along the lines of 'Malcolm's trying to steal our technology' or 'He wants to turn the rest of our crew into vampires' but not this.
Though if the Captain wanted to be perfectly honest with himself, his less than sanguine expectations didn't have any foundation in the facts. Hart's reports said nothing about Reed posing any sort of threat and the Lieutenant certainly would be the first to notice if something was amiss.
Now Archer was curious. "Why is that?"
"He told me..." Trip hesitated, "...it's too intimate. And he's been using only his last name since he became a vampire. I guess it may feel weird to hear 'Malcolm' again after twenty years or so."
"Twenty years?" Jon stared at Trip. "How old is he anyway?"
Trip shrugged lightly.
"Never mind." Archer took a sip of his orange juice. "So," he put the glass down, "we should just call him 'Reed'."
Tucker nodded, remembering with a small shudder how his fellow vampire reacted when Hoshi called him 'Malcolm' the first time they met. He seriously thought Reed was going to snap her neck. Hoshi, of course, didn't hear the low growl coming from Malcolm's throat – it was just below the range of what Human ears could detect – but she picked up on the fact that something was wrong.
Malcolm must have realised, though, that she didn't know, didn't mean to offend him, because a second later he told her simply that he preferred to be called Reed.
"Yeah," Trip answered Archer's question. "That would be safest."
Archer frowned at the wording but didn't ask further.
Trip drifted into memories of how later he and Reed talked about what had happened. Well, after Trip practically demanded to know 'what the hell was THAT?'
And Malcolm told him all right. Still bristling, he explained that among his kind the use of the name from before one became a vampire, the first name – the Christian name, Trip understood with sudden clarity – implied possession, ownership. And when used without consent, an offence degrading the one being addressed. Like saying 'You mean nothing, I own you'.
Of course, it was fairly common between the Sire and the Childe. Or the old vampire and the newly born one.
Trip frowned. "But you do call me Charles."
"I sired you." Reed smirked.
Trip folded his arms across his chest. "And you think it gives you any right to own me?" Well now, if that's what Malcolm thought, he sure as hell had another think coming.
"You think it doesn't?" And suddenly Trip was looking into the eyes of a vampire and a face twisted in a sneer.
He felt something... tugging at his mind; a strange power slowly taking control over him. Trying to bend his will so insidiously, so stealthily. A soft whisper at the very edge of his hearing, oddly sweet, lulling his senses. Trip almost gave in to it but abruptly remembering he was annoyed, he snapped right out of the trance. Oh, now he got it.
"You want me what?" he glared at Reed. "You pushy son of a bitch."
He stalked over to Malcolm, his finger jabbing the air in front of Malcolm's face. "I'm not gonna kneel and I don't remember givin' you any permission to call me by my first name!"
Reed was so surprised he merely stood there and blinked. It didn't work. The mind link didn't work.
Figures. Bloody thick-headed alien. He scowled.
"Well then," he spat. "Maybe you should think twice before using my name?"
Trip's anger evaporated. Shit, he did call him Malcolm. He'd even done so in front of other people but in his defence, he had no idea he shouldn't have.
"So, um," Trip shoved his hands into the pockets of his uniform. "What should I call you then?"
Malcolm stared at him with a look that clearly said 'What, are you stupid?'
"I mean," Tucker apparently got the message, "'Reed' seems kinda, I dunno, impersonal."
Malcolm's expression softened. "It's still my name, you know."
"Yeah but, well, everyone calls you that." And I don't want to be 'everyone'. The words remained unspoken but they echoed in Trip's head all the same. "Is 'Mal' OK, then?"
Reed rolled his eyes. "Fine, I suppose."
"You know, my friends call me Trip, so..." he grinned.
"Right. Trip."
"But..." Trip had to say it because somewhere in the middle of their fight, he discovered he kind of liked the idea of being allowed to use Reed's first name. It suggested trust. And closeness. "Maybe if we're not around other people, I could, um, call you 'Malcolm'?"
The man in question found himself surprised for the second time in less than ten minutes. Were all Humans so unpredictable or just this one?
"I think it can be arranged, Charles," Malcolm tested the water. And got a smile in response.
"Some good memories?" Archer noticed Trip's soft smile.
Tucker blinked, realising he was still sitting at the table with Jon.
"Just looking forward to starting my shift," he turned his smile at the Captain.
"Uh huh, right," Archer said amused. "Go on, then. I'll see you later, Commander."
"See ya, Capt'n."
As the door closed behind Trip, Jonathan was left to ponder the changes in his best friend.
Best friend... was he even still that?
Jon shook his head – he was being stupid. Of course they were still best friends. That at least didn't change.
And Trip didn't really change either. Now that his health had returned to its normal state and the addiction became something of a non-issue, Trip was the same as ever. Although...
Jon glanced at the reports Phlox had given him. Describing interactions between Tucker and Reed, the Doctor pointed to peculiar dynamics in their behaviour. They seemed to be protective of each other. Reed in particular felt responsible for the Commander but Trip, acting as a buffer between Reed and the crew, took care of the alien as well.
Archer remembered when a few days ago Trip came to him to ask permission for Malcolm to visit the ship's Armoury. Archer, of course, categorically refused and Trip didn't push, saying only that he kinda expected something like that. And that Malcolm probably would not be pleased but he'd understand.
The Captain thought, with a small amount of surprise, that it really bode very well for their cooperation and what was more, he felt pretty relieved that Reed didn't have total control over Tucker. At least he didn't seem to. From what Jon remembered about vampires, such a development was a distinct possibility. Or maybe he just watched too many ancient horror films.
Whatever. The main point was that for the time being Trip seemed to be mostly himself, Reed didn't look like he was going to steal Enterprise and that was all that really mattered.
The Captain's eyes drifted to the stack of PADDs, containing his own reports and he groaned inwardly. Unfortunately the reports to Starfleet Headquarters also mattered, quite a lot in fact, and he was definitely not happy with his.
Jon still couldn't decide how much he should tell Starfleet and his reports reflected this ambivalence.
Now, Starfleet essentially knew that Tucker had been sick. Archer went so far as to explain the illness was caused by an unknown venomous life-form and that the venom proved to be slightly mutagenous. He also mentioned that they were offered help on the planet.
After that particular report he got a message from Admiral Forrest, appraising him of the possible consequences – all unpleasant ones – should Enterprise contaminate the pre-warp culture.
Archer did his best to reassure the Admiral that the risk was minimal or even non-existent. Forrest seemed willing enough to believe him.
And then there was T'Pol and Vulcan High Command. Since Jon didn't have any Vulcans breathing down his neck and demanding Tucker to be either given to Vulcan scientists for further study or to be relieved of his duties, he could only assume his First Officer's reports were similarly understated.
xx xx xx
Malcolm Reed was bored. With Trip in Engineering and the rest of the crew going about their daily business, he was beginning to feel like the proverbial fifth wheel. Even Phlox was for once satisfied and didn't make him come to Sickbay so often.
He decided to visit the gym. No, there wasn't much point in trying to build musculature if you were half-dead, but maybe he could spar with a punchbag at least. It was best to keep the fighting skills in shape. He would have to remember to take it easy, though. Malcolm could easily rip the punchbag to pieces if he wasn't careful enough and he preferred to avoid that.
The gym wasn't as empty as Reed had expected. He spotted a couple of crewmen he hadn't seen before and one vaguely familiar face of Travis Mayweather. He had often accompanied Ensign Sato in the Mess Hall, Malcolm remembered.
"Hey, Reed," Travis waved a hand in his direction, stopping for a moment in his boxing. The punchbag swung to a halt in front of the man.
"Travis," Malcolm nodded in greeting, recognising gratefully that Hoshi had apparently let Mayweather know about the proper addressing etiquette. He snorted to himself, amused, but it was better than the skin-crawling feeling he normally got, hearing his first name from the Humans.
"Exploring the ship?" Travis meanwhile asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Something like that." Malcolm sniffed delicately. He smelt pure life and a very faint trace of blood – Mayweather must have scraped his hand or something. Reed stifled the instinct to open his mouth and taste the air carrying that smell.
He needed a distraction. A thought occurred to him. "Would you like a sparring partner?"
"Sure, man," Travis grinned his impossibly white smile. "But are you certain? Wouldn't want to damage our guest."
Reed smiled. "I'm quite confident in my abilities."
"OK then." Travis stood in position and attacked.
Reed easily evaded the right hook, though it was thrown quite expertly. However, the Human was much too slow. Reed's vampiric senses allowed him to see how Travis's muscles flexed and contracted as he was trying to land a blow and Malcolm had no trouble avoiding every single one of them. Finally seeing the Human aim his punch right at his nose, Malcolm caught Mayweather's fist and carefully applying pressure ('gently, gently...') twisted it, flipping Travis on his back.
Mayweather blinked, finding himself suddenly looking at the ceiling.
"Man, you're fast," he said impressed.
"And you, Mr Mayweather, are too slow," Malcolm smirked. "Come on, I'll show you some tricks." He grabbed Travis's hand and hauled him to his feet.
For the next hour or two Travis was on the receiving end of Reed's instructions and occasionally his fist. By the end of their training session Travis was panting and sweating but able to block most of Malcolm's blows and also throw a punch with more force. Which was always a plus.
"I'm done in," Travis finally announced and sat heavily on the floor.
"Yes, I suppose we might finish." Reed didn't even work up a sweat.
Travis took off his hand protectors and Malcolm caught a whiff of that very enticing smell again. The skin on one of Travis's knuckles was indeed broken and there was a small patch of already dried and crusted blood visible.
Malcolm realised he was getting more and more hungry.
"I've got to go." He turned and hastily exited the gym, leaving a somewhat puzzled Travis behind.
xx xx xx
"Charles, wake up." Malcolm sat at the edge of Trip's bed. He didn't bother to turn on the lights.
"I'm not sleeping." Trip rolled over to face the other vampire. The lack of light didn't affect his vision either and Trip could see Malcolm was hungry.
"Where have you been?" he asked as he tilted his head just so.
"Sparring with Mayweather." Malcolm moved towards Trip's neck.
"Really?" Trip backed away a little. "But you didn't do anything to him, right?"
Reed hissed exasperated. "Of course not. Can I have my dinner now?"
Trip sniggered. "Sure you can."
There was one last concern.
"You've already eaten, haven't you?" Malcolm asked in a slightly worried tone, his mouth a few inches above Trip.
"Yeah, go ahead."
And finally, finally Reed drove his fangs deep into his flesh. Trip closed his eyes in utter bliss as Malcolm sucked unhurriedly.
At last he licked the tears in Trip's skin to quicken their healing, and sighed contentedly, "Lovely."
Trip, still in a blissful daze, purred faintly in agreement.
