NOTES: Feedback so far has been swell! I seem to be doing an adequate job of keeping folks in character, which is a huge relief since that's one of my main worries. There was one review that 'accused' T'Pol of making a joke in Chapter 4, but it's more a case of something she said in all seriousness being interpreted by her human colleagues as being humorous rather than having her intentionally making a joke. (She genuinely doubted whether Phlox had an adequate supply of the numbing agent—honest!)
Another concern is accuracy in "real" situations, such as my Eagle Scout reference in an earlier chapter—it never occurred to me that Eagle Scouts might be exclusive to the US. (I may be taking liberties with Scouting in this chapter as well...I blame Malcolm, since he's the one who mentioned how many merit badges he'd earned.) Please, if I mangle anything too horribly, let me know and I'll see about doing damage control...
Okay...time to take further liberties with Malcolm's childhood...
Chapter Five: Maddie
"My parents decided that, at thirteen, I was old enough to baby-sit my sister while they went on an out-of-town overnight visit to a friend's house," Malcolm said softly, mindful of the subcommander meditating nearby. "I didn't particularly want to do it, and Maddie was just old enough to loathe the idea. Needless to say, we were outvoted. More precisely, we didn't have a vote in the matter.
"Actually, Mum was none too keen on the idea, either, but Father convinced her that everything would be fine. Once Mum coerced him into asking a neighbor woman to be on standby, that is. If I had any problems I was supposed to ring her up for help." Finished gelling the boy's tail and buttocks Malcolm motioned for Trip to ease the boy back down. "Your turn," he told the engineer, holding the boy so Trip could apply gel to the Lehrite's privates.
"Ah hate this part," Trip told him. "Makes me feel like a dirty old man or somethin'."
Malcolm shook his head. "Rubbish. It's no different than putting ointment on a baby's rashy bum when you change their nappies."
"I suppose yer right," Trip conceded. He grinned after a moment. "Besides, if T'Pol was right about their horns bein' an 'intimate part of their anatomy', yer at least as much a dirty old man as I am. Maybe even moreso." With a half-smile and a faint chuckle Reed shook his head. Sometimes the commander could be entertainingly incorrigible.
"All set," Tucker announced when he'd finished his task. Reed settled the boy onto his lap, the right side of the horned head nestled against his chest.
Lips pursed, Malcolm shook his head. "Speaking of horns," he said, "that left one doesn't look good at all—it's definitely been knocked loose, and I think it's cracked at the base." He sighed dejectedly at the thought of how it might have come to be damaged, letting silence settle over the room again.
"I had always hated that woman," he finally stated. "Angela Bascom. I was convinced that she was the most miserable, cantankerous, judgmental woman on the planet. And it seemed to be her mission in life to pry into the affairs of everyone around her. The very thought of asking her for help set my teeth on edge. I decided that, if I was going to have to look after Maddie, I would be the best damned sitter she'd ever had, and we would bloody well NOT have to call upon that woman or anyone else for help.
"When the day of our parents' departure came my sister claimed she was sick, but Father would have none of it. Despite Maddie's theatrics and Mum's misgivings they went on their way. Maddie settled down after a bit and we even played a few games. It was a good deal more fun than I'd imagined it would be. Didn't think too much of it when she didn't eat much dinner—I just thought she was missing Mum." He paused to adjust an unruly curl on the boy's forehead then sighed.
"Bedtime came and she groused again about not feeling well and wanting Mum. I did my best to put her at ease even though I was certain she was faking. I read to her a bit, rocked her, put her in bed, then checked the usual hiding places for monsters." Trip smiled at the image of a young Malcolm Reed conducting a security sweep of his sister's room.
"I sang that song to her once the monster check was finished and she nodded right off. Spent the evening reading and patting myself on the back for doing such a splendid job of tending to her." The last was said with bitter sarcasm, then his voice grew terribly quiet. "I was so certain she was playing at being sick. I was quite irritated with her when I heard her thump out of bed an hour or so later. Went to her room all set to give her a sound scolding only to find her on the floor, throwing up. Are you familiar with something called 'projectile vomiting'?" Tucker nodded, looking ill at the mere mention of it.
"By the time I got her to the loo," Malcolm continued, "she'd redecorated her bed, the carpet, her pajamas, my clothes, and a good portion of the hallway. I hate to think what it would have looked like if she'd finished her dinner. I helped her strip down and put her in the tub to try and clean her up. That's when I realized how hot her little body felt. Her temperature was absolutely skyrocketing and I didn't have the vaguest idea what to do for her."
"So you had ta call Angela, huh?" Trip asked.
A cross between a chuckle and a disgusted snort came out of Malcolm. "I should have called her, but I didn't. The thought never crossed my mind because I was too busy being scared out of my wits. I stripped down to my skivvies and got in the tub with Maddie, got her scrubbed up, and just…sat there with her, holding her, talking to her. She felt so miserable, and I didn't know how to make it better. Took a while for me to realize we weren't alone.
"Angela had let herself in…brought over a batch of cookies for us," he said, chuckling faintly. "When I saw her standing there I half expected her to give me a thorough tongue-lashing, and I didn't even care. I started babbling on about Maddie being sick, making no sense whatsoever. It felt like it took forever for Angela to calm me down, but I suppose it was only a few moments. She felt of Maddie's head then told me that we were to stay right there while she went and called her husband. She got back in under a minute, but not before the seizures started. I froze. Just sat there holding her thrashing body, shrieking for Angela, certain I was watching her die. Angela had to give me a solid whack across the face to stop me screaming.
"She told me to keep Maddie's head up then started filling the tub with cold water. Seemed totally daft to me but it worked. Maddie's temperature started coming down and the seizure stopped. Then her husband Jeremy showed up with her med kit—turned out she was a medic by profession. Jeremy started cleaning up while Angela tended to my sister. He had the bed made up fresh and most of the mess cleaned up by the time we had Maddie ready for bed.
"The poor little thing was terribly restless so I sat with her, holding her hand and singing to her until she fell asleep. I didn't want to leave her—I was afraid to even let go of her hand. I thought if I left, if I let go…she'd die." Malcolm heaved a sigh as he stared at the wall, silently reliving it all. "After a while Maddie dropped off to sleep, then Angela hauled me off to the kitchen and put on some tea. I felt I'd made a real hash of everything, and she knew it. We talked for ages, and somehow she made it a little...better."
"It wasn't your fault yer sister got sick," Trip commented.
"I know that…but at the time I felt as though I'd handled everything so badly. Hell, Maddie told me she felt ill and I didn't believe her. And when she needed me I panicked…froze like a bloody statue." Trip silently shook his head, forcing back the reassurances he knew his friend wouldn't accept.
Malcolm stayed silent, mentally reviewing not only the long-ago night of his sister's illness but also the rescue of the Lehrite. "I suppose," he finally admitted, "that's why I've been acting peculiar, why I was so short with T'Pol back on that ship, so determined to get that oxygen mask on him. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. Not again. It was just too…familiar. It's also," he confessed, "why I was so hesitant to hand him over to you earlier. I wasn't worried about one of us dropping him, I simply felt I had to keep holding him because if I let go..." His voice caught and he fell silent.
"He'd die," Trip finished the thought.
"I know. Bloody stupid of me," Reed berated himself.
Trip realized how momentous an occasion this truly was: Malcolm Reed, master of keeping his private life private, had willingly shared an intimate—and painful—fragment of his past. Malcolm was usually loath to allow even the tiniest chink in the wall that he'd erected, but this time the man had willingly dislodged a few of the bricks. Trip knew that one wrong word on his part would undoubtedly slam those bricks back into place. He pondered his next words carefully. "Angela taught you what to do when somebody's havin' a seizure?" he ventured.
Malcolm nodded, looking almost wistful. "Mmm. Most important thing is to keep a level head, and to move anything that the patient might hurt themselves on. Unless you've got a hypospray full of anticonvulsants handy you pretty much have to just ride it out. You don't usually plunk them into a tub of cold water, though—that was to bring Maddie's temperature down."
"Well, I'm glad you were with me on that shuttlepod, 'cuz I didn't have a clue 'bout what ta do fer the little guy. Remind me ta send old Angela a thank-you note."
Malcolm smiled faintly. "She taught me quite a bit about first aid, among other things. I owe several of my merit badges to her tutoring skills, as well as one or two that Jeremy helped with. We became quite close." A genuine smile spread across his face. "Hard to imagine that I ever disliked either of them. Now they're almost like family."
"Aunt Angela and Uncle Jeremy, huh?" Trip teased. Malcolm nodded but as he opened his mouth to reply the Lehrite stretched again. The boy's mouth opened in a wide yawn, several small squeaks escaping from him as he wriggled about. As the yawn faded his left arm drifted up and over Malcolm's right shoulder and tugged. Sleepily pulling himself up he began nuzzling Malcolm's neck contentedly as he crammed his muzzle against the warm soft flesh beneath the lieutenant's left ear.
Malcolm struggled to stifle a shiver. "Good lord, his nose is cold!" he exclaimed in a whisper.
"Maybe that's a good thing," Trip whispered back in reply, standing slowly. "I'll check in with Phlox." As he reached the comm panel he looked back and smiled. Eyes closed, Malcolm was tenderly stroking the Lehrite's back and whispering in the boy's ear. Thumb hovering over the comm button Trip strained to hear what the lieutenant was saying. His smile widened as he realized that Malcolm wasn't speaking—he was singing oh so quietly, his voice too soft for Trip to make out the words. 'What I wouldn't give to have my camera,' he thought as he pressed the button. "Tucker to Phlox," he called softly, casting a quick glance at the still-meditating subcommander before returning his attention to Malcolm and the boy. The Lehrite's chin rested on top of Reed's shoulder, his slumbering face the very picture of contentment.
"Phlox here, Commander," came the doctor's chipper reply, loud enough to make the engineer jump.
"Hey Doc," Trip said quietly. "Looks like the little guy's waking up. He's moving around some, even started nuzzling Malcolm's neck. Mal says his nose is cold—d'ya think that's a good thing or a bad thing?" He was grateful that the doctor's voice came back far more quietly.
"I'm not entirely certain, but I believe it's a good sign. His readings show a great deal of improvement and his temperature, though still slightly above normal, has come down considerably. I was just about to notify you that you are all free to leave Decon. Would one of you be so kind as to bring our young guest to Sickbay?"
"No problem, Doc. I'll have Malcolm bring him to ya, an' I'll tag along so you can give mah hand a clean bill of health. Tucker out." Breaking the connection Trip took a moment to contemplate whether or not to rouse T'Pol, deciding that it would be best to leave her to her meditations. After the ribbing he'd given her earlier, he figured he owed her that much.
Turning his attention back to the far end of the bench he was pleased to see the Lehrite's eyelids slowly slide open. The peaceful, groggy eyes surveyed the room, blinking several times as they at last fell upon the commander. Nose wrinkling, the disoriented boy sniffed at the air several times, puzzled uncertainty showing on his face. As if deciding to ignore the unfamiliar surroundings he closed his eyes before again burying his face in Reed's neck.
Wanting a better vantage point Trip silently moved along the wall to stand behind the lieutenant. He resisted the urge to tell Malcolm about the boy opening his eyes, worried that his voice might startle the child. Instead Tucker simply watched, smiling, as the boy's head moved again, tiny brow furrowing as his head moved sluggishly away from Reed's neck. Eyes opening again, the tot directed his perplexed stare at Malcolm's head. Trip's smile widened as Reed turned his head slightly to look at their guest. The commander remembered to keep his teeth concealed and hoped the lieutenant would do the same.
Confusion was replaced by comprehension as the boy continued staring at Malcolm, his little mouth opening wide. Still-tender hand throbbing as if offering a warning, Trip's smile faded as he realized how close Malcolm's left ear was to the tyke's mouth. He tried to alert his friend but pain-filled squeals shattered the silence before he could utter a word.