"Riley has some kind of secret. He's practically bursting with it." Chip leaned forward to pick an oatmeal raisin cookie off of the tray sitting on Lee's desk.

Lee didn't pay much attention. He had noted the sling Chip wore, and the tight bandaging on his wrist when he'd entered, but that was all. His XO was all right; or at least wasn't suffering from more than a slight concussion and a broken wrist. He returned to the words their stowaway had said to him as she'd died… "Ti perdono, mio fratello…" Lee's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but judging from Chip's reactive frown, he'd heard the words. He spoke Italian as well as Lee did, one of the few languages they shared. Chip favored the Romance languages, while Lee had learned some of the older tongues spoken in the Middle and Far East. He knew his friend was going to say something, and braced himself for it. Here in the privacy of his cabin, his friends never stood on ceremony. Chip would probably lecture him, since there was no one to hear.

"You should quit worrying at that. Neither of us know what she meant by it. And she's dust now…" Chip shuddered and looked away; Lee knew why. There were some things even that perfect poker face couldn't hide, and Lee read him better than probably any man alive. He would have understood the connection that the words heralded, and having been the victim of another – far more human, and far crazier – predator, he could have guessed what the words might mean. He turned his face away to hide that knowledge and the consternation beneath it. As he contemplated the wall, he repeated the words softly. "She's dust now… Whatever she meant by calling you her brother, it doesn't matter anymore…"

I forgive you, my brother… Lee sighed and uncoiled from his chair. He snagged a cookie and munched as he paced toward the map on his wall. "You should have seen her face when she said it, Chip…"

"Lee…" The voice behind him trailed into silence. Clearly Chip had no idea what to say. Lee had suffered a similar lapse when they had brought Chip home from Argentina, after six weeks… Six weeks with Dr. Pope… Whatever had happened in those six weeks they never spoke of. What Lee had seen in that place, before he'd put a bullet in that woman's head, they never discussed. It was impossible to put into words; so was the look in those eyes as this stowaway had forgiven him for some completely unknown crime.

Lee had always taken every death hard. If he had to kill, he could, and did. But the need to kill marked a consummate failure to plan for every eventuality. If he could foresee all the different angles that a mission might take, he could surely come up with a plan that would negate the need to kill. The fact that he didn't like to kill made his position as one of ONI's top agents an unquestioned achievement.

But he'd gone to Argentina, intending to kill… And in the bilge room, tonight, they'd had to kill the vampire… She was too strong, and she had already killed once. She would have killed Will if she could have. And the hatred in her eyes when she'd looked at Lee still haunted him. For whatever reason, she'd associated Lee with her brother… But her brother must have been centuries dead, and they might never know exactly what she was, or how she'd become a predator…

Chip's voice, trying to lighten the mood in the cabin, broke his reverie. "You should have heard the discussion in Sick Bay. Riley crowing about his secret, Ski and Pat hanging on Malone's every word… I couldn't wait for John to let me out of there!"

Now he had Lee's attention… Lee turned back to his XO with a frown, putting away the odd feeling that had arisen from too many memories and her strange dying words. He concentrated instead on his friend's injuries. "He shouldn't have let you out. If Will had been in charge, he would have done more X-rays, and…"

"Lee," Chip said stonily, driving his point home. "I'm fine. The wrist was a clean break. And my head doesn't even hurt anymore." He hated having a fuss made over him; he never sought the limelight, and was content to efface himself cleanly, never taking credit for any of his many achievements. There were times when Lee just simply couldn't understand that kind of humility at all.

"Neither did Dad's…" He looked away then, but moved back to the desk. Best to put the whole situation behind them, since they clearly couldn't dissect it without chastising each other. He let it go, and smiled as he looked at the plate that was still full. "Cookie is not going to be happy with us, if we don't eat all these cookies."

Chip turned his head toward the plate that had been brought up from the galley about the same time he had arrived. "All of them?" He looked a little glassy-eyed, contemplating the mound of cookies. "How many are on that thing?"

Lee stared at the plate estimating quickly in his head. Chip's mathematical mind could have produced a far more accurate guess at the amount, but Lee was no slouch at estimation either. "Twenty?" He groaned. "There's no way we're going to eat twenty cookies…" He glanced toward the sound of the opening door, immediately alert, but relaxed when he recognized their visitor.

"Then maybe you'd care to share, gentlemen?" Admiral Nelson closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Chip rose quickly, and moved aside, wordlessly offering his chair to the senior officer. Nelson contemplated them both for a minute, then crossed the room and slipped into the vacated chair. Lee got up and grabbed another for Chip, knowing that the broken wrist hampered him, then settled again, perched on the edge of his desk.

"We need to recap, so we can be prepared if this ever happens again…" Nelson looked at each of them in turn, then snatched a cookie. "We cannot depend on Malone to be there every time."

"Thank God he was this time," Lee muttered, swinging his leg as he allowed his thoughts to return to the scene in the bilge room. Naturally the admiral would want to go over it in detail until they could hash out a plan to protect the boat in the future. "All right, sir. Where do we start?