Squeezing his eyes shut against another flash of light, he wearily sucked his thumb and rubbed at the bandage on his throat as he tried to go back to sleep. He knew there was no threat—he could feel amused pleasure from whoever had approached the bed as well as tickles of mirth from someone else nearby—but D'von was more interested in continuing his sleepy snuggles with Mao-kim than in seeing who was there. When he could no longer ignore the presence, he opened his eyes just enough to look into the sparkling blue eyes looking back at him over the top of a strange little grey box.

"Hey there little fella," Trip whispered, lowering his camera. "Remember me?" The tot nodded slowly and the engineer's smile broadened. "Yeah...you wouldn't forget yer ol' Uncle Trip, would ya?" Seeing D'von's attention drift to the camera Tucker casually hefted the device. "It's okay," he softly assured the youth, who was now wide awake and obviously intrigued. "It's a camera. I'm just takin' a few pictures. Doesn't hurt a bit. Here...lemme show ya." Stepping back he adjusted the setting on the camera before snapping another picture of D'von and the still-dozing Lt. Reed. "See there? Nothin' to it," Trip whispered as he looked over the top of the camera. Stepping closer he turned the camera to show the boy the picture on the display screen. "An' that's what the picture will look like when I print it up. Okay if I take another one?"

Nodding without hesitation D'von took his thumb from his mouth and carefully pushed himself up in the bed until the top of his head was snuggled up under Malcolm's chin, his horns nicely framing either side of the lieutenant's jaw. A faint, pretty smile spread across the child's face, reminding the engineer of the Mona Lisa.

"That's perfect," Trip grinned as he raised the camera. Sleepy grey eyes slid halfway open and stared at him through the viewfinder.

"Commandah...Don't. You—" click/flash "Dare." Reed's murmured protest came too late.

Tucker's grin only widened. "D'von said I could," he declared smugly, drawing a sigh of resignation from his friend.

{Ams hokay, Mao-kim. Ahnklah Tip ams jus' takin' a few pitchers,} the chipper tot explained with a giggle. {Dunnint hurt. Nufin' to it.}

Something about the word 'uncle' (or 'ahnklah') was very entertaining to the boy; it made D'von giggle every time he heard or said it. Between that and what were certainly mimicked words of comfort from the commander Malcolm couldn't hold back the chuckle that was building up in him. "Tell me something, Ahnklah Tip," he teased, now fully awake. "Did you happen to remember to bring D'von's breakfast? Or were you too preoccupied with fetching your photography equipment?"

"Ahnklah Tip, huh? Guess that's close enough, Ahnklah Malcolm," Trip said as he snapped another picture. "An' I'll have you know I didn't forget your breakfast. Didn't take any time at all to grab my camera an' meet up with Liz an' Chef. What took so long was that everybody I met up with wanted to know about the little guy—some of 'em even wanted to come with me to meet him, but I told them we should give him a little breathin' room 'til he gets used to the place." He beamed at D'von. "You're quite a celebrity, ya know," he told him with a wink. "Folks can hardly wait to meet you. An' Chef is rarin' ta go, ready to whip up a bunch of vegetarian stuff for ya."

"The doctor thought perhaps Chef would be upset about having to make special dishes for D'von."

Tucker shook his head. "Naaah. Just the opposite—told me he's lookin' forward to stretching his culinary wings. He's already goin' through recipes, figuring out substitutions an' stuff. Only thing he's fretting about is that he has to run the ingredient lists past Phlox. You know how Chef is about guarding his recipes...makes me wonder sometimes if he's maybe related to you," he chuckled. Looking at D'von, Trip noticed that the boy's eyes were closed again. "I think he's gone back to sleep," he whispered.

Though he wasn't entirely sure how he was doing it, Reed found himself 'listening' to D'von. "No, he's just...relaxing."

"Soakin' up some happy thoughts?"

"Yes, something like that. If you've finished with your impromptu photo shoot, though, I'm sure he would very much like to have his breakfast."

Golden eyes snapping open, D'von's smile broadened as he looked at the engineer. {Would like veryveryvery much,} he agreed as he and Malcolm sat up on the edge of the bed.

Looping the camera strap around his neck with a nod, Trip first moved the bedside table in front of the hungry duo then retrieved the wheeled service cart from where he'd parked it at the foot of the bed. Placing the large food tray in front of them he remove the two domed covers with a flourish. "Breakfast is served, gentlemen," he drawled pleasantly. "Toast with cinnamon sugar, oatmeal with just a dash of brown sugar and milk, and fruit cups. For Mr. Reed's beverage we have hot tea, and for Mr. D'von, four ounces of Chef's very own special blend...freshly made peach-mango nectar. If you need more of that just let Chef know," he told the boy in a conspiratorial tone. "An' he made sure to use insulated containers ta help keep everything at just the right temperature." Both men grinned at the tiny sniffing and lip-licking noises that D'von was making.

{Dunno what ams dat stuff, but smells wunnerful,} D'von observed, lowering his head over the meal and sniffling hungrily. {Mush besser dan on da bad ship. Food dare was poy-zin.}

Taken aback, Malcolm exchanged looks with Trip then looked back to D'von. "What do you mean, the food on the bad ship was poison? They gave you things you couldn't eat?"

D'von shifted about uneasily as he stared at the floor. {Shunint says 'bout bad ship. Made yew sad. Not talks 'bout dem endymores, I promise.}

"You don't have to talk about them if you don't want to," Malcolm assured the lad, placing a comforting hand on the tot's shoulder, "but if you do want to, then go ahead. I'll be fine." He gave D'von a moment to think before continuing. "Dr. Phlox told us that there are certain foods you can't eat—perhaps the people from the other ship didn't know that."

The boy fixed a somber stare on the lieutenant. {Dey knew. Da bad man put fings in da food to make it poyzin, but it smelled very much awfuls, so cunnint do eats.} He turned his attention back to the floor, melancholy radiating from him.

Struggling against the dark sensations pouring into him, Malcolm cast a quick glance at the stunned commander and gathered himself before speaking, gently hugging D'von across the shoulders as he comforted the boy. "It must have been terrible for you...but the bad man apparently didn't think you'd be smart enough to know he'd tainted the food. I think you were far more clever than he was. And you were very strong, too."

{Yew fink I ams strong?} D'von asked disbelievingly as his eyes met Malcolm's, the darkness lifting a bit. {But...I ams too liddle to be strong.}

"Utter nonsense," Reed confidently dismissed the boy's doubts before turning to the engineer. "I believe I need your assistance, Commander Tucker. This lad claims he's too small to be strong, and I thought we might get your opinion on that."

Frowning thoughtfully as he placed the covers back on the food, Trip perched on the edge of the next biobed. "Hmmm. You think ya gotta be big to be strong, huh?"

D'von's head bobbed in agreement. {Yahuh.}

"Well, lemme think about this for a second," Trip pondered as he briefly rubbed the back of his neck. "Malcolm's a little smaller than I am, but I'm pretty sure that he could beat me in a fight."

"Pretty sure?" Reed scoffed.

Trip ignored him. "An' yer a lot smaller than Malcolm but you were still able to knock him off his feet when we first found you. You didn't have much trouble makin' me let go of you, either," he added as he held up his left hand.

D'von looked shamefacedly at the floor. Feeling the growing guilt and regret from the boy made Malcolm doubt whether the commander was being helpful after all, but before he could voice an opinion Trip forged ahead, sounding almost like a proud father.

"I think you're very strong, an' you handled yerself pretty darn well. Not sure I woulda been able to put up as good a fight as you did. You did a good job, D'von."

The baffled tot looked up from the floor to stare questioningly at Trip's face then the man's hand. {Yew ams happy I hurt yore han?}

D'von's bemusement washed the last of the darkness from Malcolm's mind. "I don't think that's what he meant," he sniggered before explaining to Trip. "He's a tad confused at the moment, trying to work out why you're not upset with him for biting you. He thinks you're happy that he hurt your hand."

"Well, I'm not sure happy is the right word," Trip said pleasantly. "But everything worked out okay, an' there was no real damage." He held out his hand for D'von to examine. "See? Just a little bruised—nothin' serious. Couple more days an' ya won't be able to tell it ever happened."

{Soo...I ams not in trouble? Was a good fing, doin' kicks an' bites?} D'von asked as he studied Trip's hand.

Malcolm gave the lad's shoulder a couple reassuring pats. "Of course you're not in trouble. You didn't know who we were, and you thought we were going to hurt you. You were just trying to protect yourself—either of us would have done the same thing."

"Absolutely," Trip agreed, watching with curiosity as the boy tenderly took hold of his hand.

{Still hurts liddle bit...I do fixes.} Raising the back of the man's hand to his lips he gave the bruises cautious, gentle kisses and strokes before repeating the process on Trip's palm. {Ams besser, right?}

Malcolm felt a rush of sensations and emotions: for a few seconds his own left hand throbbed slightly, then there was brush of fingers and velveteen lips upon it. D'von's emotions coursed through his mind and mingled with Trip's (and his own), floating and tickling enjoyably through his brain before dissipating like mid-morning fog. He could have tried to answer for the commander but didn't quite trust his voice. "He wants to know if it feels better," he relayed faintly.

"It sure does," Trip said. "Kisses can make almost anything feel better."

"So I've heard," Phlox chimed in from his vantage point across the room, grinning broadly as he approached them. "Well Commander, have you finished taking pictures?"

"Yeah…we're all done for now," Trip replied. "Thanks for letting me go ahead, Doc."

"Not at all."

Reed was stunned. "You condoned the commander photographing us while we were asleep?"

"Well…not at first," the doctor admitted. "But he offered a very convincing argument on the importance of documenting our young friend's stay with us, and he promised that he wouldn't frighten the boy and would stop if D'von objected. I didn't suppose you would be opposed to the idea."

{Yew dunnint like doin' pitchers?} The tot sounded surprised and amused, as though not liking to be photographed was even sillier than wearing an EV suit.

"Well...I...it's not that," Malcolm stammered to all of them. "It's just...if I'm going to be photographed I'd at least like a chance to freshen up so I'll look halfway decent. I haven't had a chance to shave, and my hair's a mess...I haven't showered...God, I must look a fright." Self-consciously combing his fingers through his hair, he looked sheepishly at the others. "It just would have been nice to be given a little time to prepare, that's all. I look wretched."

{Yew ams bootiful, Mao-kim. Wanda see da pitcher? Ahnklah Tip showed me.} D'von made a small 'gimme' gesture to the camera then pointed to Malcolm.

"He wants me to see the pictures," the lieutenant explained.

Trip's grin widened. "Sure thing." He held the camera so Malcolm could see the display and scrolled through the photos, careful to not give the man the opportunity to delete any of the shots.

Reed stared at the photos on the small screen; he hadn't expected them to be so…so good. Despite his bleary-eyed, rumpled appearance, the last one was especially stunning. "I believe you missed your calling, Commander. If you ever tire of engineering you could be a professional photographer. I suppose since these did turn out so nice, and since D'von approves, I'll have to withdraw my objections. Now," he continued, tousling D'von's hair, "I think it might be a good idea to eat our breakfast—I for one am famished, and can say with a high level of confidence that D'von is, too."

"I'm not surprised," Trip agreed. "An' I guess I've gotta get to Engineering sometime today. But I'll stop back after my shift, if it's okay."

"Would you like Trip to come back later?" Malcolm asked D'von.

D'von nodded vigorously. {Yahuh…would be nice to do more pitchers.}

The lieutenant shot a glance at Trip. "Don't forget to bring your camera," he advised. "D'von is looking forward to another photo session."

"No problem," Trip agreed cheerily, giving the boy a playful chuck under the chin before heading for the exit. Reaching the door he turned back to face them, a glow of inspiration lighting his features. "Y'know, now that I think about it, I might bring more than that," he added with an air of mystery and a wave as he headed out the door.

After watching the engineer's departure the doctor smiled at his patients. "I should be returning to my duties as well. I have reports to file, scans to review, and a new message from my friend at the Denobulan Diplomatic Corps…and I need to put a few finishing touches on that informational article for the crew. Oh, I want to thank you for your advice, Lieutenant—Captain Archer has agreed to make it mandatory reading."

"Glad to have been of help. I trust I'm still first in line to get a copy?"

"Oh yes—I'll let you know when it's complete. Now then," Phlox smiled broadly, wheeling the utility table closer to the bed, "the two of you are far overdue for breakfast. Your allergy shots are all up-to-date, Lieutenant, so the pineapple in the fruit cup won't pose a problem. I believe the Human phrase is 'bon appétit', hmm?" With a tip of his head the doctor headed to his office.

Malcolm watched Phlox's departure until distracted by a tiny scraping sound. He glanced over to see D'von cautiously peeking under the lid from one of the meals.

{Maybe shunnint eats dis…smells wunnerfuls, but dunnint eats bone, an' dunnint know what ams 'a-peet'.} He shot another questioning look at the lieutenant. {Yew eats 'bone-a-peet'?}

Reed laughed quietly. "It's not 'bone-a-peet', love. 'Bon appétit' is a French phrase that means, 'good appetite.' It's a way of telling someone to enjoy their meal. Understand?"

D'von considered it for a bit. {Sooo…no bones?}

"No bones," Malcolm assured him.

{Hokay. We do eats naow?}

"Yes." Lifting the lids from the tray Reed pointed out the various foods. "This is a fruit cup—it's a mixture of several varieties of fruit cut into bite-size chunks. And these are slices of toast, with butter and a sprinkling of cinnamon-sugar on top. There's your juice, and the bowl has the oatmeal in it." He watched in amusement as D'von once again sniffed at the food, the boy's face crinkling in delight at the scents. "Where shall we begin?"

D'von picked up a slice of toast and studied it before giving it a timid lick with the tip of his tongue. {Mmm…dis ams good fing. Fink I wanda have dis first.}

"That's fine. I'm going to have some of my fruit first, I think." Spearing a chunk of peach with his fork, Malcolm smiled at the boy's manner of eating.

D'von rapidly dispatched almost a third of the slice of toast with a fast, dainty nibbling action before moving the bread from his lips. Setting that aside he surveyed the rest of his breakfast, finally deciding on the oatmeal. He was slowed by the flatware for only a moment, picking up the fork and spoon for a side-by-side comparison before putting the fork aside and diving greedily into the oatmeal.

"You might want to slow down a bit," Malcolm suggested as he switched to his toast. "It wouldn't do to give yourself a tummyache first thing."

{But ams veryvery hun-gree, Mao-kim,} D'von replied without slacking his pace. {An' dis ams veryvery good.}

Malcolm put a gentle restraining hand on D'von's arm, stopping the spoon in mid-flight. "If it's so very very good, why not take time to enjoy it, hm?"

D'von blinked as he looked at Malcolm. {Hm. Dinnint finks 'bout dat. Hokay.} Sliding the spoonful of cereal into his mouth, he slowed his chewing to savor the food. {Yew ams right—ams even besser dis way!} When he'd finished the last of the oatmeal he lifted the bowl and licked it clean, then finished his toast. Moving his attention to the fruit cup he stared into the container, perusing its contents. {Dis ams…frooot, right?}

"Yes. Let's have a look," Malcolm suggested before taking a quick sip of tea. He pointed at the various chunks in the cup. "These are peaches, that's a bit of apple, and that one's a chunk of pear…the little round green things are grapes…the bright red things are bits of cherry, that's pineapple, these are slices of strawberry, and the green bits with the little black flecks are kiwi. That leafy bit on top is a sprig of mint that Chef used to make it all look pretty. You can eat that, too, if you want."

{Yew gunda eats yore mint?}D'von asked, seeing the garnish on the side of Malcolm's tray.

"To tell you the truth, I don't care for it on its own. Would you like it?" he offered, holding it out to the boy.

{Oh, yes,} he accepted eagerly. {Fank yew. Yew likes da pineapple, right?} D'von asked as he sniffed the mint then set both sprigs in his empty bowl with great care.

"Yes…it's my favorite food, actually. Do you have a favorite food?"

D'von's brow furrowed in thought. {Just one fing besser? Dunnint fink so. Likes lotsa foods. Do all Hoomins like pineapple for fave-writ?}

"No…everyone likes different things. I think Commander Tucker—Ahnklah Tip," he amended as he retrieved his tea, "enjoys pecan pie, and I'm fairly sure Hoshi's favorite food is chocolate." He watched the boy sample the various fruits. "It's very good, isn't it?"

{Yahuh. Ams all very good froots…finks kee-whee ams fave-writ. Ams hokay I likes kee-whee besser dan pineapple?}

"Of course," Malcolm smiled, taking another sip of tea before moving on to his oatmeal.

Lifting the small glass to study its contents, D'von gave the nectar a few quick sniffs before trying a tiny sip. After swishing it around in his mouth the boy at last swallowed, eyes closing in bliss as he made tiny, rapid lip-licking sounds. His eyes opened after a bit and he looked at the lieutenant. {Dis ams very good, too, but yew dinnint get endy. Wanda try?} he offered, holding the glass out.

Malcolm accepted it and took a small taste. "That's very good," he agreed. "I don't think I've ever had that before." Seeing D'von's intent gaze fixed on his tea, Malcolm held it out. "This is hot tea. Would you care to try some?"

With an enthusiastic nod D'von carefully took hold of the mug and took a taste. Going through the same routine as with the juice, he at last gave his verdict. {Dis ams good too, but fink I likes mine besser, hokay?}

"That's fine," Reed chuckled. The two finished their meals in pleasant silence, D'von retrieving the mint sprigs from his bowl when he was done and, munching on one of them, tucked the other one into his pouch. Once Malcolm finished eating he stretched out on the bed, leaning contentedly against the raised head of the bed with one arm behind his head. The other arm wrapped around D'von as the boy snuggled up onto him, resting the back of his shaggy head on Malcolm's chest. Simultaneous relaxed sighs escaped from both of them.

"That was an excellent breakfast," Malcolm observed.

{Yahuh. Ex-lent. Ams awe-flee nice, too. Saved udder mint for nibbles layder.} D'von paused then gave a wide yawn. {What we gunda do naow?}

Stifling a yawn of his own, Malcolm gave it some thought. "You know, I'm not really sure." He could feel grogginess coming over the boy. "How about a little nap? You seem a bit tired, and I'm feeling rather fatigued, too."

{Nuh-uuh,} D'von denied unconvincingly. {Ams not sleepy too much.} He yawned again and Malcolm could feel happy embarrassment from the boy. {Well…maybe jus' a liddle bit sleepy,} he admitted, holding up one hand with his thumb and index finger a few millimeters apart. {But dunno if should take naps again. Dunnint we hafsa go do works?}

"Work? Well, Dr. Phlox hasn't cleared me to return to duty yet, and you don't have to work—you're a guest here, you know." D'von's confused disappointment tickled at his mind.

{But I dunnint wanda be guest, Mao-kim. Guests go 'way. Wanda stay wiv yew. An' I hafsa do works—everybuddy hafsa do works. Everybuddy godda do dare shares so da ship keeps goin'. Besides, hafsa do sumfing to pay back for helps an' eats an' stuff, right?}

Even knowing how D'von felt about repaying people, the idea of his doing chores hadn't occurred to Reed. He puzzled it over a moment. "Hm. Well, I'm not sure what kind of jobs we could find for you, but I promise to give it some thought. I don't want you worrying about working just yet though, all right? You've got to finish getting better first—that's most important. And as far as you being a guest…Captain Archer and some of the others are trying to find your family so we can get you back home, but you'll be staying with us until we find them."

A flood of unbearable sorrow flowed from D'von as he looked up at Reed, tears filling his eyes. {Famblee…ams dead, Mao-kim. Man from da bad ship sed…he killed dem all. Cannint I stay wiv yew? We ams Joineded, so yew ams my famblee now. An' yew sed yew ams Taj…yew ams posta takes care of me, an' I'm posta stay wiv yew. Yew wants me to stay wiv yew…riiight?}

Malcolm struggled against the growing currents of sadness and uncertainty and did the only thing he could think of to make the awful sensation stop. Wrapping both arms around D'von, Reed held him tight and kissed the top of the boy's head. "Of course I want you to stay with me. There's nothing for you to worry about—I'll take excellent care of you."

The boy's mood brightened almost instantly, the unhappiness evaporating rapidly as he sighed with relief. {Dat's good. Stay wiv yew ams good fing. Can do lots of works for da ship,} he assured the grown-up, {an' do hewps. Can do lots of fings. Lots of hewps. Makes yew all veryveryvery happy, I promise.} He yawned again, the final faint traces of doubt and despair disappearing as he snuggled against Malcolm's chest and began to doze off. {Maybe do liddle itty-bitty naps,} he slurred, {den can do works…an' more eats layder, right?} he asked tiredly.

"Lunch will be in a few hours," Malcolm softly assured him, relieved that the unhappy emotions had gone. "As far as working, even if there are some chores that you can do Dr. Phlox will have to give the okay first. Can't risk having you re-injure yourself, after all. So don't concern yourself about work just yet. For right now, I think a little nap is just the ticket for both of us." There was a long pause as their minds and bodies quieted down.

{Mao-kim?}

"Yes?"

{Yew sed before dat yew would sing to me, like in da blue room.}

Malcolm smiled. "That's right…I did. I'd almost forgotten."

{Can sing naow? Please?}

Looking down at the top of D'von's head, Malcolm hesitated. "Are you sure you want me to? I'm really not a very good singer."

{Yew sing-ded very nice in da blue room,} D'von assured him. {Felted very good.}

"Well, if you're sure you want me to," Reed teased. "And I did promise, after all."

Tipping his head back, the boy looked up at the lieutenant with a huge grin. {Yahuh, yew promised. I 'members.}

"Very well, then. Do you want the blanket?"

Quickly sitting up, D'von seized the blanket from the foot of the bed and hastily draped it over the two of them before settling back against Malcolm's chest. {Hokay…ams comfy an' ready for sing-ging. Yew ams comfy, right?}

"Oh yes…quite comfy," Reed assured him with a chuckle as he straightened the blanket, then cleared his throat before beginning to quietly sing. "Nothing's gonna harm you…not while I'm around…"

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

My dearest Phlox,

I am sending as much new information about Lehrites as we've been able to find. Sadly I have yet to locate any of their people or ships, but you know how determined I can be as well as how much I enjoy a challenge. The search shall continue!

You surely remember my third husband's fondness for linguistics; this made him the perfect person to work on finding samples of Lehrite languages. He's been in ecstasy over the number of dialects! Your Ensign Sato may find it a daunting task to sort through them and figure out which words and phrases may be helpful, but she seems quite bright and capable so I'm sure she's up to the challenge. Please pass the attached file along to her with our complements—and do have her send back any corrections or observations she may have, as Korvan is eager for a second opinion on his translations. He said something about repetition intensifying or changing the meaning of some words and phrases, but I may have misheard him—you know how he mutters under his breath when he's working!

I believe you already have all the medical information that we do, but I did find a brief mention of susceptibility to ear infections among younger Lehrites. Since I don't recall seeing that mentioned in the material you've already gotten from here I thought I should bring it to your attention. There is also information on that theory that they are capable of hypnosis at a glance. I'm happy to confirm that it is utter nonsense: I believe Humans would call it "an old wives' tale." (Perhaps Ensign Sato could explain that phrase to me sometime? Despite Korvan's reassurances I'm not entirely convinced that I've used it correctly.) Oh, and I found out that the Andorians have a saying about when something is deemed too difficult to attempt: "It's like trying to out-drink a Lehrite." I've been told that it is possible to out-drink a Lehrite…it's just not advisable to try. I don't suppose that would be much of a concern in this instance, though, would it? As I understand it, Humans generally refrain from serving intoxicants to children.

Good luck with the little fellow—you will keep me up to date on his progress, won't you?

With fondness and best wishes,
Forlisa

After playing the latest message from Forlisa and reviewing the information she had sent Phlox turned his attention back to the other padd on his desk. Once he'd added the new information to the report for the crew and sent the language samples to Ensign Sato he pushed the padds aside and stood, deciding to check on his patients. It had been almost two hours since the sound of the lieutenant's hushed singing had died away: he'd looked in on them when the man had first gone silent and had been glad to see that both D'von and Reed had fallen asleep.

The discussion about the "bad ship" had obviously been an emotional and physical drain on both of his patients. Lt. Reed had been noticeably impacted by whatever D'von had said and felt; nevertheless he'd done an admirable job of handling the situation and refocusing the boy's attention. The doctor had not been convinced by the lieutenant's earlier claims that he was "fine" and that he'd had little difficulty handling the influx of emotions from D'von, but this latest episode bolstered Phlox's confidence in Mr. Reed's ability to manage such incidents in the future.

Quietly peeking in at the pair now, he was pleased to see that they were both still sleeping. After a quick check of their vital signs Phlox returned to his office to review his report for the crew one last time. Satisfied with the final draft he saved the last changes, copied it to another padd for the lieutenant, then set the padds aside and pulled up D'von's most recent scan results on the computer terminal. The boy's injuries were healing at a remarkable rate—the damage to the left ear was almost healed enough to allow the return of the earring, and with a bit of luck the boy would be walking within a week and talking in another day or two. The horn would doubtless be tender for a couple of weeks, but that was to be expected since the denser tissue grew at a slower rate. Brow furrowing, the doctor frowned at the detailed scan of the boy's head. At first glance nothing leapt out from the scan but Phlox couldn't dismiss the feeling that there was something amiss. What was that human term he'd heard? Out of kilter? Yes, that was it. Something was out of kilter here, even if he couldn't put his finger on it. Hearing the main doors open Phlox closed the file, making a mental note to come back to it later, and went to greet his visitor. He found Captain Archer watching the sleeping patients.

"Ahh, good morning, Captain," the doctor greeted him in a cheerful but hushed voice.

"Doctor," Archer returned the greeting. "How are they doing?"

Phlox beckoned him away from the biobeds so they could talk without waking the two. "Quite well, actually," he answered softly. They've had breakfast and are having a nap right now. D'von's injuries are healing nicely. I expect he'll be back on his feet—or hooves, I should say—in a few days, and talking even sooner. And aside from a few temporary fluctuations in his neurotransmitter levels Lt. Reed's readings are, for all intents and purposes, normal. He will be free to return to his quarters this afternoon, although D'von might object to that," he observed with humor. "I want to wait a little while longer before clearing the lieutenant for duty, though. Perhaps one or two days, if his readings remain consistent."

Jon couldn't entirely banish the worry from his face or voice. "I talked to Trip a little while ago. He said D'von talked to Malcolm about the people that had him?"

Nodding, Phlox frowned and moved further from the biobeds, motioning the captain to follow. "Mmm. Of course, we could only hear the lieutenant's end of the conversation…for some reason D'von's captors tried to poison him."

"That's what Trip said. He told me that Malcolm looked a little…off…during the conversation. I was wondering if you'd noticed anything?"

"He was affected during the exchange," Phlox confirmed. "D'von was obviously uncomfortable discussing his captors, and the lieutenant felt that discomfort because of the connection between them. The only side effect for either of them seems to have been the need for a nap afterward and the changes in neurotransmitter levels. Mr. Reed has also admitted to experiencing a few brief instances of feeling someone else's emotions as a result of his connection with our guest, and while I agree that it could be an area of concern I do not wish to alarm either of my patients. I feel that he is handling the episodes rather well, but I will speak privately with the lieutenant at the earliest opportunity to find out how intense the sensations are and see if he needs help alleviating the effects of the additional emotional input he's receiving."

Archer nodded his approval. "If there's anything I can do to h—" A light thud and a squeak interrupted him.

Both men turned to see D'von standing beside the bed, his bandaged hoof hovering a few inches over the floor. Looking down at the appendage he gingerly tested it against the deck plating but instantly drew it back with another tiny squeak. Malcolm simultaneously flinched in his sleep but showed no sign of waking.

Noticing them watching him, the boy pointed to Malcolm and put a finger to his lips. His smile broadened as the doctor approached and picked him up.

"You're quite right," Phlox whispered as he carried D'von away from the bed. "We shouldn't wake him. But I'm curious as to why you're up—did you fall out of bed?"

D'von shook his head. {Nuh-uh. Dinnint fall. Goddago. An' I ams firsty, but cunnint reach da water. An' I wanda do look-see, but cannint walk on my hoof 'cuz it still hurts. But Mao-kim ams still sleeping so he cannint do hewps.} He looked expectantly into the Denobulan's eyes a moment before remembering. {Yew cannint hears me—I forgot.} Squirming slightly in the man's arms he put his hand in front of his crotch and gave a tiny grunt.

Phlox understood immediately. "Captain, if you would excuse us a moment, I believe D'von needs to use the bathroom again." D'von nodded confirmation, and Phlox chuckled softly as he told the captain, "We'll be back shortly."

Jon couldn't help smiling as he watched them leave, but he grew serious as his attention returned to his Armoury Officer. Under normal circumstances this much time spent in Sickbay would have Reed either climbing the walls or flat out staging an escape. Even with the doctor's assurances that Malcolm's readings were pretty much normal, Archer couldn't fully dismiss his unease at the situation: he was sure D'von wouldn't intentionally hurt Malcolm, but there was still the possibility of some sort of damage. He studied the readings on the wall above the bed as if he'd be able to understand them if he stared at them hard enough. A few were obvious: there was heart rate, and respiration, and that one was maybe blood pressure, but the others eluded him. Did that one signify brain activity, or maybe—

"Captain?" Malcolm's bewildered voice snapped Archer's attention back to the bed. "Where's D'von? Is something wrong?" Reed was halfway out of bed before Jon could get a hand on his shoulder.

"D'von's fine—he woke up a few minutes ago and Phlox took him to the bathroom. They should be back pretty soon."

Malcolm closed his eyes with a sigh, settling himself on the edge of the bed. "Ah. Of course. I should have realized." He met Archer's gaze. "Sorry, sir. I just…I guess Commander Tucker was right after all. I'm being a bit of a mother hen. It's just that, with his hoof still on the mend, I didn't expect him to be gone."

Jon chuckled as he settled into the chair next to the bed. "Well, he took us a bit by surprise, too. The doctor and I heard him get out of bed. Seems he had to use the bathroom, but he figured out right away that he couldn't walk yet. And if it makes you feel any better about being a mother hen, D'von was worried that we'd wake you up."

Now it was Reed's turn to give a quiet laugh. "That sounds typical of him. He mentioned his abductors earlier, then promised to not talk about them anymore because he was worried about making me sad." Staring down at the floor all levity abandoned him. "I can't figure it out," he confessed before looking at the captain again. "Whoever his captors were, they tried to poison him. Why would they go to the trouble of kidnapping him only to try to kill him?"

"Trip mentioned that when I talked to him a little while ago. Does D'von have any idea who they were?"

Malcolm shook his head with a frown. "He hasn't spoken of them in any real detail. I don't believe he knew who they were, why they took him, or even what species they were."

"If you can get some more information from him it might help," Archer suggested. "See if you can get a description of them, or have him look through some of the entries in the Vulcan Database and see if any of the species in there look familiar to him."

"I'm not entirely certain that would be a good idea just yet," Malcolm hesitantly objected. "When he mentioned them earlier it made him very uncomfortable. It was…a bit unpleasant," he admitted. "I get the distinct feeling that he's trying to avoid even thinking about what happened. It might be easier to broach the subject once he can speak aloud, though," he added hurriedly.

"If he's recovering as quickly as Phlox said, it should only be another day or two before he's able to talk. But the sooner we can get information from him the sooner we can put it to use to find his family."

"Sir…if D'von is correct, his family is…gone. Killed by his abductors."

Stunned, Jon leaned forward in the chair. "My god…are you sure?"

Head canted to one side, the lieutenant considered. "D'von didn't say he saw them killed, only that he'd been told they'd been killed." He gave the tiniest smile at the glimmer of hope the small distinction suddenly gave him. "They might have lied to him about killing them, trying to make him easier to control."

"Easier to control?"

"Mm. If he thought his family was dead he wouldn't be expecting anyone to make a rescue attempt. He'd become solely dependent upon his kidnappers, and therefore more compliant." His eyes gleamed excitedly. "You have to keep looking for them, sir. Without any proof that his family is dead—"

"We should assume that they're alive," Archer nodded. "I agree."

As Malcolm closed his eyes with relief, his captain studied his face. He looked almost blissful now, but when the whole Joining thing had first happened Reed had been distracted and very confused. Vulnerable, Jon thought; a term he would never before have associated with the lieutenant. And later, when he'd stopped in to see how things were going, Malcolm had looked tired. No, strike that: he'd looked drained, despite his good-natured bantering with the doctor before heading off to 'the loo'. And there had been something else that Archer hadn't been able to put his finger on until now. The younger man's eyes, he realized, had held a flicker of emptiness, as if some part of him had been missing. Or had been taken away, perhaps? Had Malcolm been feeling the boy's absence that keenly, with the connection only a few hours old?

At that time they had all believed that the Joining had been unsuccessful, Malcolm most of all. Now with the bond confirmed and clearly visible Jon was more worried than ever, not only because of the possibility that it could damage Malcolm but because the man could be damnably close-lipped when he had a problem. If the emotional or physical burden of being Joined proved too great, would Reed admit it to anyone—or even himself—or would he just insist that he was 'fine' and carry on to the point of collapse? Archer had a very bad feeling that he already knew the answer to that one.

"How are you doing, Malcolm?" And if you say, "I'm fine," I might just throttle you, he thought.

There was no sense trying to deny it. "I'm…not entirely sure," Reed admitted with a trace of embarrassment, the corner of his mouth giving a twitch. "Getting used to D'von's voice in my head has been easier than I would have thought, but the emotions are a tad more difficult. They change so rapidly it's a challenge to keep up sometimes. It's a bit like…like a roller coaster, I suppose."

"A roller coaster?" Archer repeated in disbelief, getting a nod from the lieutenant.

"Yes. He'll be happy and content one instant, then something sets him to worrying, then he's sad or afraid, then back to happy again as if nothing had happened, all within a few moments. He shifts gears so rapidly, it's a trifle dizzying at times."

"I would imagine so," Jon agreed. "Sounds more like a tilt-a-whirl than a roller coaster, though." He stayed silent a moment before asking, "Is that the only problem?"

He didn't want the captain to know—didn't want anyone to know—but knew he had to be honest about it. Besides, from the captain's tone of voice Malcolm suspected that Archer already knew the truth. "I've experienced a few peculiar...sensations. The emotions that D'von has felt in others have been briefly transmitted to me. When Phlox was angry earlier, I felt it for a second, and a little while ago I could feel what Commander Tucker was feeling." He decided to leave out what he'd experienced when Liz and Hoshi had been gushing over the boy during their visit. The captain didn't need to know every detail, after all. "It only lasted a second or two, though. Aside from that, and the roller coaster rides," he assured Archer, his eyes taking on a mischievous twinkle, "I feel fine, and I'm more than a little eager to get out of here."

"Phlox mentioned letting you out of here," Archer grinned, "but he said D'von might object."

"Mmm," Malcolm nodded his agreement, "I'm sure he'll disapprove of my leaving, but I think he'll be all right as long as he knows I'll be coming back for him. Staying with me seems to be his biggest worry at present—that and finding jobs to do."

"Jobs?"

"He's eager to pay us back for helping him—says he can do lots of things for the ship and make us all very happy," Malcolm told him. "The doctor told me earlier that Lehrites are quite keen on repaying people who do things for them, and it seems D'von is eager to get started. I told the little mite he'd have to wait for Phlox to give the all-clear first."

"So…what kind of chores do you think you'll find for him?" Archer asked as he leaned back in the chair, unable to suppress a grin.

"I hadn't even given it any thought before he mentioned it. I suppose it makes sense to give him some little jobs to keep him busy, but still…I don't want to turn him into some sort of cabin boy."

"When I was his age," Jon reminisced, "my parents had me help set the table for meals and take out the trash sometimes. And I helped with some of the housekeeping—dusting, washing dishes…that sort of thing. Plus I'd help my father in his workshop." He smiled at the memory. "Well, 'help' may be stretching it a little. I thought I was helping—handing him tools that he usually didn't need, asking endless questions…basically pestering him about what he was doing. Thinking back on it, between my help and the Vulcans' lack of it, I'm amazed he got anything accomplished."

Malcolm shook his head. "Well, helping out in my 'workshop' is out of the question—the Armoury is certainly no place for a little boy. And it's not as though he can take the dustbin to the curb for us. As far as helping with dishes..." He cracked a tiny grin. "Well, you know how Chef feels about unauthorized personnel in his Galley. Still, I'm sure I can think of some busywork for him…little tasks to let him feel that he's contributing."

"Well, if you need any help thinking up chores for him, let me know. Or if you need help with anything else, for that matter," Archer added with more seriousness. "My turn to be a mother hen, I guess…I'm worried about you. Phlox said that except for some changes in your neurotransmitter levels your readings seem normal but we still don't know if there will be any adverse long-term effects from this, or what they might be."

"I understand that, sir, and I do appreciate your concern but I'm not sure it's necessary. If anything too terrible was going to come of this I suspect it would have already happened. Phlox hasn't found any damage and, as I said earlier, I feel fine."

"Except for the roller coaster rides," Archer jokingly reminded him, wanting to lighten the mood.

"Well, yes…aside from that," Malcolm agreed with an embarrassed half-smirk which broadened into a full-fledged smile as he saw Phlox returning, pushing a wheeled office chair in front of him; D'von was perched on the chair clearly enjoying his ride through Sickbay.

"Here we are, back again," Phlox said with a grin. "Now, I believe we neglected to do proper introductions before so we'd best do that now. D'von, I'd like you to meet Captain Archer. Captain, this is D'von."

{Hai,} D'von waved cheerily. {Ams nice meeting yew. Capann-ahcha ams inneresing name.}

"He says hello, sir," Malcolm relayed. "And it's nice to meet you." Probably best to forgo the bit about the name for now, he decided.

Jon returned the tot's contagious smile as he stood. "It's nice to meet you, too, D'von," he replied, extending his hand.

For a second the boy gave Archer's hand a puzzled look then his smile broadened. {Oh! I readed 'bouts dis in skool—Hoomins do han-shakes!} Beaming proudly, he grasped the captain's hand and gave it an enthusiastic shake.

"I apologize for our delay in returning," Phlox explained cheerfully, "but I thought as long as D'von was up and about we'd check on a few things. We did a few scans and changed the dressing on his hoof. He shouldn't try walking on it just yet, though. I'm happy to say he no longer needs the bandage on his throat, but he does still need to be careful of it for the time being—we decided that he can try to do a little talking later this afternoon. The cast on his horn needs to stay for a while longer, but the horn is healing quite nicely."

Jon smiled warmly at their guest. "Well...sounds like you've been busy."

{Yahuh,} the boy nodded, smiling warmly. {An' was fun, too…did goddago, den had scans—no imjing, jus' liddle scans—an' had drinks, an' had some look-sees...an' I gots priddy new banage for my hoof!} He held out his foot for them to admire.

"He says he had fun," Malcolm told the doctor. "And he likes his new bandage."

Phlox bowed his head slightly. "It's always a treat to make a patient happy. Oh, I almost forgot—first thing tomorrow morning we'll be returning his earring to its rightful place."

Still admiring his 'banage', D'von's grin widened. {Has priddy new banage an' gunda gets my e-ring back…Noblan ams veryvery nice to me, Mao-kim. Gunda hafsa do sumfing extra-speshul for him!}

"He wants to do something special for you because you've been so nice to him, Phlox," Reed told the doctor.

{EXTRA-speshul,} the boy corrected. {Ams Noblan 'Ahnklah', too?} he asked with a faint giggle, still admiring the fresh dressing on his hoof.

"Excuse me…extra special," Malcolm amended. "And he wants to know if you're an 'Ahnklah', too. Commander Tucker has been referring to himself as 'Uncle Trip', and 'ahnklah' is apparently as close as D'von can get to the correct pronunciation."

"I would be honored to be an 'ahnklah'," Phlox told D'von, garnering a stifled giggle from the lad.

"I'm not sure why, but he finds this whole uncle/ahnklah thing rather amusing—he giggles every time he hears or says it. It might not be a bad idea to have Hoshi try to find out what the word means…for all we know it's something risqué, or maybe some intimate body part or something."

"The last message I received from Denobula had some samples of Lehrite language and dialects for the ensign," the doctor said. "Perhaps ahnklah is among them."

"When I get back to the bridge I'll have Hoshi check it out when I see her," the captain offered with a grin. "And if it is something risqué or some intimate body part…maybe we should hold off telling Trip for a little while." His smile widened, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.

The other men grinned as well, but before either of them could make reply D'von looked away from his own bandaged foot and noticed, for the first time, Captain Archer's boots. The boy gasped in amazement. {Mao-kim…yew sed Hoomins has toe-finners on dare hoo-feets…whycome he haves hooves? Never seen hooves like doze—ams priddy. Nice an' shiny.}

Noticing D'von's attention to his feet Archer looked down at them. "Did I spill something on my boots?"

"No sir," Malcolm assured him. "It's just that…well, earlier he asked about my feet because he'd never seen toes before, so now he's wondering why you don't have toes, too. He thinks your boots are hooves." Seeing the surprised look on the captain's face he quickly added, "He likes them, sir—he thinks they're pretty."

Jon returned the lad's amused smile with one of his own and offered an explanation. "We wear shoes or boots to protect our feet." Settling himself on the bed next to the lieutenant he quickly removed one of his boots then held up his sock-clad foot for D'von to inspect. "And this is a sock," he said, giving it a tug before removing it. Holding his naked foot next to Malcolm's, Archer wiggled his toes for the enthralled tot. "See? Toes, just like his."

{Booots...an' socks...an' toe-finners like Mao-kim. Hokay good.} D'von studied the man's feet, clapping delightedly as Jon again flexed his toes.

Archer chuckled. "He seems to like them."

"Yes," Phlox agreed, "he certainly finds them to be entertaining. And he's equally intrigued by our other anatomical differences—our mutual lack of horns, for instance. And he seemed fascinated by my facial ridges while I was removing the bandage from his throat, though he did keep the touching to a minimum."

{Noblans dunnint like touches, so dinnint touch too much,} the boy stated, eyes still riveted on Archer's feet. {But haves very priddy faces. Hard to not do touches.} He clapped again as Jon's toes moved once more.

"He knows that Denobulans don't like excessive touching," Malcolm told the doctor. "But he found it difficult to keep his hands to himself because your people have very pretty faces."

The doctor's ever-present smile broadened. "Why, thank you, D'von. You have a very pretty face, too. And I suppose a little occasional touching wouldn't be intolerable."

{What ams im...im-tall...what he sed?}

Reed choked back a laugh. "'Intolerable'," he pronounced slowly. "Phlox means he wouldn't mind a little bit of touching ever once in a while. Just be certain you ask permission first, all right?"

{Ax Ahnklah Fox a'fore do touches. Hokay,} D'von nodded his agreement before once more returning his attention to Archer's feet.

"It's 'Phlox', luv," Malcolm mentally corrected.

{Ams what I sed, Mao-kim.}

The captain gave one more wiggle of his toes before pulling his sock and boot back on. "Well, I'd best get back to the Bridge before T'Pol sends out a search party." Standing, he again offered his hand to the boy. "It was very nice meeting you, D'von. I'm looking forward to seeing you again soon."

Vigorously shaking Archer's hand, D'von beamed up at him. {Ams nice meeting yew, too, Capann-ahcha. Gunda be nice seeing yew again, too. Fank yew for doin' toe-finner-wiggles.} Relinquishing the captain's hand, the boy quickly squirmed about in the chair so his back faced the men. Before Malcolm could stop him D'von tugged his nightshirt out of the way to reveal his tail, zealously twitching the appendage. {I do wiggles, too, see?} Malcolm flushed crimson, his jaw doing a slow-motion drop, and Phlox chuckled as he stepped forward.

Putting a steadying hand on D'von's shoulder the doctor aimed a grin at Archer. "Lehrites believe in paying their debts as promptly as possible, Captain. Since you wiggled your toes for him—"

"He had to wiggle something for me," Jon finished for him, fighting—and failing—to keep a straight face. Giving up, he let the smile spread across his face. "Thank you, D'von," he chuckled. "I can honestly say no one has ever wiggled their tail for me. Can you wiggle...anything else?"

"Oh god," Malcolm moaned, head dropping as he buried his face in his hands. He really didn't want to think about what else the tot might decide to wiggle for them.

Settling back in the chair D'von stared at Reed, head tilting in puzzlement. {Whycome yew ams bare-assed, Mao-kim? Yew liked tail-wiggles before...}

Regaining a small measure of composure, Reed finally dared look at the others. Phlox and Captain Archer were both looking back at him with annoyingly amused expressions on their faces, their mirth pleasantly tickling at the edge of his mind and washing away at least a little of the embarrassment. You're right...I did like it...but I think we're going to have to have a little talk later about acceptable social conduct, all right? Feeling D'von's confusion deepen, Malcolm tried to explain. There are some people who might think it's inappropriate for you to wiggle your tail at them, so it would probably be best if you didn't do it for anyone else, okay?

{Ams like...doin' touches wiv Ahnklah Fox? Ax furst?}

Yes, that's exactly right, Malcolm confirmed, gratified that the lad had caught on so quickly. Detailed lessons about public decorum could wait until later.

{Capann-ahcha axed 'bout wigglin' udder stuff,} D'von remembered. {Should show him,} he chirped happily, turning his attention back to Jon and Phlox. Giving the men a huge grin, the boy waggled his ears at them. {Can do ear wiggles. An' nose wiggles liddle bit,} he added, twitching his nose. {Hoomins can do ear an' nose wiggles?}

The contagious merriment around him brought a smile to the lieutenant's lips. "He wants to know if humans can wiggle their ears and noses."

Archer shook his head. "I'm one of the ones who can't wiggle my ears, but some humans can." He gave an experimental twitch of his own nose. "Noses are a little bit easier," he chuckled.

D'von nodded in sympathetic understanding. {Dat's hokay if yew cannint do wiggles too good. I cannint wiggle my toes-finners 'cuz I dunnint haves toe-finners. An' I cannint wiggle my horns...but En-dor-me-ans can wiggle dere horns. When I'm oder I wanda meet dem an' ax how to do horn wiggles.} He grew suddenly thoughtful and turned to Malcolm. {Do yew fink En-dor-me-ans haves toe-finners, too?}

"I'm not sure," Reed replied, puzzling over the new word a moment before realizing who D'von meant and explaining to the others. "He's apparently met up with some Andorians at some point—says they can wiggle their horns and he wants to find out how they do it. He's also curious about whether they have toes, too. Doctor?"

Phlox beamed at the chance to dispense a little of his knowledge. "As a matter of fact, they do have toes. As to how they wiggle their, um, horns, perhaps later I can try to explain it to you, hmm? I've got some medical texts and illustrations that I'm sure would help you understand how it's done. Would you like that?"

The boy nodded, clapping excitedly. {Dat would be wunnerful! Can learn udder stuff too? 'Bouts toe-finners an' hoo-feets, an' why Hoomins dunnint have horns, an' why King-ons haves lumpy heads—are dey tryin'a grow horns?—an' why ams En-dor-me-ans bloo, an' do Noblans haves toe-finners, an' why do Tell-rites like mud baffs, an'—}

"Whoa, whoa," Malcolm urged, chuckling. "Slow down a little—I can't keep up." With a tip of his head he smiled at Phlox. "It seems we have a very inquisitive young man here. He's quite eager to learn about Andorians, among others. I think I'm going to have to make a list for you, provided you don't mind giving an impromptu class on basic xenobiology."

The doctor fairly puffed up with glee. "I would be delighted to answer as many of your questions as I can," he told the boy.

"I'd love to stick around for that," Archer joked as he headed for the door, "but I need to get to the bridge. I'll see you later, gentlemen," he promised as he left.

Once the doors had closed Phlox turned his attention to the oldest of his charges. "Now then, Lieutenant, I'd like to get a few scans from you. Once we've finished with that I'll give you a copy of my report on Lehrites. Barring any abnormal scan results, you'll be free to return to your quarters in a very short while."

"Excellent—I've a great deal of work to catch up on."

"I think not," the doctor wagged a jovial finger at Reed. "I said you could return to your quarters, not your duties. I will be contacting the Armoury and the Bridge to let them know that if you should show up in either of those places you are to be turned away. If need be, I'll authorize them to carry you bodily to your quarters."

Thwarted, Malcolm sighed. He could tell Phlox wasn't bluffing about having him toted back to his quarters, and knew as well that there were certain members of the crew who would be only too happy to follow the doctor's instructions in that matter. "Would it be out of the question for me to at least stop at the Armoury long enough to pickup a few padds I left there? That way I could at least catch up on a few reports."

"I suppose that would be all right. But straight to your quarters after that, understood? "

"Oh, very well," the lieutenant grudgingly agreed. He'd hoped to linger in the Armoury for at least a few minutes, but he wouldn't put it past the Denobulan to call down there to check up on him.

Phlox took a padd from his pocket and offered it to Reed. "While I get ready to take those scans, you can put together that list of questions D'von would like answered, hmm?" There was a definite air of victory about him as Phlox strode across Sickbay.

Malcolm watched the doctor walk away then turned his gaze to the padd's blank screen, pausing only a moment before entering the questions already posed by the lad. "Let's see," he murmured, "you wanted to know why Humans don't have horns, and about Andorian toes, horns, and pigmentation...Klingon foreheads...Denobulan toes...Tellerite mud baths...what else would you like to know?"

D'von smiled lovingly at him. {When we gunda go to kwaar-ders?}

"Well...uh," Reed fumbled for an answer, "actually...you'll be staying here." Puzzled uncertainty tinged with fear lapped at the edge of his mind.

{Yew gunda...leeeve me? But...wanda go wiv yew. Dunnint wanda be lones.}

Relieved at the unexpected lifeline the boy had inadvertently given him, Malcolm seized it. "You're not going to be alone—Dr. Phlox will be here with you." He held up the padd. "He's going to try to answer some of your questions about Andorians and Klingons and Denobulans, and whatever others you may be curious about. He's very knowledgeable about many other species, you know. I wouldn't be surprised if he easily answers all your questions about these things. And I'm sure he's going to enjoy teaching you about them." He could feel D'von weighing his words, but the boy still had strong doubts about being left behind. "Phlox will take excellent care of you while I'm away. And you did say you had fun with him before, right?"

D'von pondered. {Ya-huh,} he admitted hesitantly. {Soooo...I'm gunda stay here wiv Ahnklah Fox for liddle whiles...den...yew gunda come back, right?}

"Well of course I'm coming back," the man tenderly assured him. "I'm just going to my quarters for a shower and to catch up on a little paperwork. And you know, I'm not going to be all that far away. Phlox," he called to the doctor, "may I use your computer terminal for a moment?"

"Absolutely," came the doctor's cheerful reply. Curious, he watched as the lieutenant set the padd on the bed and wheeled the tot to the terminal.

Reed called up the schematics for the ship and a cutaway view of the entire ship filled the screen. "Now then, this is Enterprise—the ship we're on now. And this," he pointed to a section of the ship, "is the deck we're on now. E Deck." He pressed a few buttons and the image changed to an overhead view of the entire deck. "This is E Deck, and this is Sickbay, where we are now. These little symbols here represent the beds."

The boy leaned toward the display, intently studying the image, then looked over his shoulder at the beds. Turning back to the screen he pointed at the spot Malcolm had indicated. {Soo...if beds are dare...den...we ams...} He thought a moment, briefly studying his surroundings before moving his finger to point at the area of the screen corresponding to the console they were using. {We ams here?}

"Yes...that's right," Malcolm replied with a laugh, pleasantly surprised that D'von had worked it out so quickly. "Very good! Now then, these," he traced a line along the deck plan, "are the corridors, and you see these little rooms? Those are the living quarters for some of the crewmembers. Just about each deck has crew quarters. This one is mine...see how close it is to Sickbay?"

Tracing the path along the corridors from Sickbay to Malcolm's quarters with his finger, D'von's doubts evaporated. {Yew gunda be in kwarders dare,} he pointed again at Malcolm's room on the screen, {an' I ams gunda be wiv Ahnklah Fox here,} he moved his finger to Sickbay. {An yew gunda be back layder.} He beamed proudly at his Taj.

"Yes," Malcolm assured him again, equally proud. "I'm not sure how long I'll be gone—probably only a few hours—but that will give Dr. Phlox a chance to teach you all sorts of marvelous things, I'm sure."

{So…will be like skool?} D'von asked happily.

"I suppose in a way, yes. You enjoy school, do you?"

{Oh yes. Skool ams fun...hard sometimes, but still fun. Can do hewps for Ahnklah Fox, too? He's been doin' lots of hewps for me. Hafsa do hewps back.}

"I'm not sure," Malcolm answered as he looked at the doctor. "He wants to know if he can help you with anything while I'm away, since you've done so much to help him."

"Oh, I'm sure we can find something for him to help me with," Phlox happily confirmed. "I'm ready for those scans whenever you are, Lieutenant."

Still perched in the chair, D'von watched as Malcolm went to the exam table and the doctor passed the hand scanner over him. Head canting from one side to another the boy studied the men for a bit before turning his attention back to the computer screen in front of him. If he was going to be living on this ship now, he'd have to learn where everything was. Starting at Sickbay he worked his way outward. Lots of kwarders meant lots of Hoomins to make happy, but if they were all as nice as Ahnklah Tip and Capann-ahcha and the Priddy Hoomin Laydees it shouldn't be too hard to make them happy.

Many of the symbols before him were meaningless circles and rectangles—maybe Ahnklah Fox could explain it to him during skool—but, using Maokim's kwarders as a reference point he thought he could figure out what some of them were. Kwarders were where you lived and slept when you weren't working, so...maybe the blue rectangle was a bed? If so, then the skinny plain rectangle across the room was probably a desk or table. The little squares could be chairs, he supposed. His attention drifted to a room across the corridor from Maokim's. That one had many rectangles; two of those had tiny red circles all over their tops. Definitely not beds...he'd have to think about that one for a while. Long brown rectangles in several other rooms had him equally intrigued—those had little green splotches along the entire length of them.

{Itty bitty baby ships!} he squeaked at the unexpected discovery as he spotted the shuttlepods. Baby ships inside big ships, little green splotches on brown rectangles, other rectangles with tiny red dots...Hoomins had some strange things on their ships. He turned his attention back to the kwarders, amazed at how many of them there were. This Hoomin herd must be huge for their ship to have so many famblees living on it! And there were so many beds! One of the jobs Lehrites his age had to do was to help with making the beds: he hoped that there would be someone helping him, otherwise it would take him all day to make so many of them. Studying them further he realized something peculiar about them. Throughout the map of the ship there were images that represented people, and after comparing the size of the people to the size of the furniture D'von realized that the beds were very small—certainly too small for a whole famblee to sleep on. Why, you could probably only fit two or three people in each one, and they'd have to sleep all smooshed together. Sleepy-snuggles were a wonderful thing, but a person needed room to move around, after all. These beds were definitely too small for an entire famblee, maybe even too small for when mommies and daddies had their special private time.

{Even if da beds are small, gunda takes for-EVER to makes all dem.} Strong arms wrapped tenderly around him from behind.

"Studying the layout?" Malcolm cooed in his ear as he bent over the boy. "Not a bad idea to familiarize yourself with the ship—can't have you getting lost, after all. Any questions?" he asked, feeling a tickle of puzzlement from D'von. There was something else, too; he realized D'von hadn't heard—or rather, he supposed, felt—his approach. "You didn't know I was behind you, did you?"

{Nuh-uh,} D'von answered casually, seemingly unconcerned about having been snuck up on. {Was lookin' at da pitcher of da ship. Lotsa stuff ta learn, huh?}

"Quite a bit of stuff to learn, yes."

"Is everything all right?" Phlox asked as he approached.

"I think so...I guess he was concentrating so intently on studying the ship that he didn't realize I'd come up behind him. He doesn't seem too worried about it, though. Maybe it's normal?"

Phlox tipped his head to the side. "Possibly. I've seen Humans concentrate on a task to the point of not noticing what is going on around them—I believe they refer to it as 'tuning off?"

"I think you mean 'tuning out'," Malcolm corrected with a half-smile.

"Ah, yes, that was it. Not a talent exclusive to Humans, mind you, so it wouldn't be surprising if that's what happened with him."

{What ams red dots?} D'von pointed to the screen, oblivious to the conversation about him.

"Red dots?" Malcolm leaned closer to see what the boy was pointing at. "Oh...that room is the Galley, where our food is prepared. The red dots are to show that that," he pointed at one of the rectangles in question, "is a stove." He smiled at the boy. "I'll tell you what: when I come back, I'll go over this with you in more detail, okay?"

D'von thought about it—he wanted to know about the beds, and the baby ships, and all the rectangles and circles and squares naow!—but finally nodded. {Hokay. But can ax one fing, please? What ams green splotches?} He pointed to the brown rectangles.

Reed smiled broadly. "Hydroponics. It's like...a garden. We grow plants there." He mussed the boy's hair, careful to not bump the horns, then slowly turned the chair and squatted in front of D'von. "Now then, Dr. Phlox has said I can go now. You'll be a good boy while I'm gone, won't you?"

{Yahuh,} he replied happily. {Will be veryveryvery good, an' learn lotsa stuff, an' do lotsa hewps. Den yew gunda come back.}

"That's right—I'll be back in a few hours."

{Hokay. Den we can go see high...high-dough...da gardem. Like doin' gardem stuff.}

"Well, I don't think we'll go as soon as I get back, but we'll go sometime soon, I promise. Maybe when your hoof is better and you can walk on it, okay?"

{Hokay...we do dat.} With a smile he turned his attention back to the computer screen.

Standing, Malcolm found himself rooted to the spot. Maybe he shouldn't leave just yet. After all, it wasn't as though there was anything going on that required his immediate attention. How would D'von communicate with the Denobulan? What if there was some sort of medical emergency and Phlox had to leave? A firm hand gripped his shoulder, guiding him away from the tot.

Once they reached the exam table, Phlox handed him a small medical case and a padd. "Now then, once you've had your shower and gotten settled in, I'd like you to attach these monitoring devices to yourself—I've included detailed instructions on the padd, along with my report on Lehrites." Seeing the doubt clouding Malcolm's face, the doctor gave him a fatherly smile. "If we have any problems at all I shall not hesitate to contact you immediately, you have my word. So go get your reports from the Armoury, maybe get a snack from the Mess Hall, then relax in your quarters for a while. You can go to the gym for a little workout if you'd like...just don't overdo it. And call if you have any problems or experience anything out of the ordinary. I'd like you to return in three, maybe four hours, hmm?"

"I guess I'm just being silly, I know, but...I don't know...I just...what if..."

Phlox gave him a comforting clap on the back. "It's never easy leaving them for the first time. He'll be fine, Lieutenant...and so will you. Now...get out of my sickbay," he teased before walking to their bed and retrieving the padd that Malcolm had left there.

Taking a step toward the door Reed stopped, then realized he had to do one thing before he could leave. Heading back to D'von's side he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, bending down and kissing him on the forehead. "I'll see you a little later. Have fun with Phlox, alright?"

The boy wrapped his arms around Malcolm's neck and gave him a firm hug. {Yew haves fun, too, hokay? I be good, an' takes good care uv Ahnklah Fox.} He planted a velvety kiss on the man's cheek then settled back in the chair, his attention shifting to the Denobulan. {We gunda do skool stuff naow?}

"He's eager to get started with 'school stuff'," Malcolm chuckled to the doctor, slowly making his way to the door. "Be sure to let me know if you need me for anything." Despite his slow pace he soon found himself in the corridor outside of Sickbay, quickening his pace only when he realized that he'd forgotten to change out of his pajamas and that he was still barefoot.

Inside Sickbay, Phlox studied the questions on the padd then looked at his eager pupil with amusement, chuckling. "If it's all right with you, I think we'll start with the lumpy heads, hmm?"

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Really hope this was worth the wait! For those interested in the deck plans, I used the schematics from the Star Trek LCARS Blueprint Database and Waxing Moon Design websites. I admit that I don't know how "accurate" the plans are, but I feel they do full justice to the ship and have found them to be exceedingly helpful. If you do a Google/Bing search be sure to look for "Waxing Moon Design" (singular) and not "designs" (plural) or you'll get a bunch of results for cross-stitch patterns...

I also recently realized that I'd left some editing notes tacked onto chapter 11—those have been deleted and the chapter reposted. Sorry about that!