"I thought he was dead..." Riley's voice, a bit dejected, nagging at Sharkey. Was this a dream, or was the kid really here? And if he was really here, why didn't he go away and let a man sleep?

"Come on, kid, you think anyone could take the chief out that easily?" Crowe, munching on something as always. That guy couldn't stop eating. He claimed it was a medical condition, but Sharkey knew he was just a pig... And what was he doing here? How many people were planning on invading either Sharkey's dreams or his cabin?

"I should have staked her instead of whacking her... I just lost my head, I guess." Riley again, dissecting the action. Couldn't these clowns just keep quiet?

"Well, which of us has ever dealt with vampires, before?" Was that Ski? Could it possibly be Ski? Man, this had to be a dream… But if it weren't a dream, that meant that Ski was awake and talking… It meant that Ski was going to be all right. Sharkey began to take an interest in the conversation.

"Hey, Malone, tell us again how you got her?" That was Pat... How did all these people get in here? Why were all these people in here? Wasn't this his cabin? Surely they weren't all just standing around in the bilge room watching him bleed?

Sharkey moaned and opened his eyes, expecting to see his familiar bunk. Yeah, maybe it was all a really weird dream? But then what did dreaming about vampires say about him? He didn't think he really wanted to know the answer to that…

But no... This wasn't his cabin, and it wasn't the bilge room either. He lay in a bunk in Sick Bay and now he could feel the throbbing ache in his throat. Reaching up, he touched a thick bandage that covered the wound. Just as well... He didn't really want to feel the damage that had been done to his throat. Still less did he want to know what it looked like. "What are you clowns doing here?" He wheezed a bit, and tried again, disliking the weak, sickly croak his voice made. "Sick people gotta rest, you know!" He sounded just like a little bitty toad. Great. Just great…

"Chief!" The joyous cry of several voices stabbed through his head, right down to his toes. Man, that hurt! He snarled at them.

"Keep quiet!" But the joy touched him; he drove the boys extra hard, lectured them on proper seamanship, and didn't cut anyone any slack, but still they cared. That was good to know. He eased himself upward, swallowing over the ache in his throat. Alfaro jumped to plump the pillows behind him. Now Sharkey could see that Pat was sitting in a chair, next to Ski's bunk, and Ski was awake... Awake! "Good of you to join us, Ski." He barked the words gruffly but honestly, he couldn't think of a finer sight than Ski lolling in that bunk, awake and listening to every word. They had so nearly lost him… On Sharkey's watch, too.

But he didn't want to think about that. Instead, he glanced around with a frown, looking for the man they had saved from the vampire's clutches. "Where's the doc?" An important question: Doc McKenzie had been bleeding when Sharkey last saw him, and judging from the way his own throat felt, Doc's probably didn't feel much better...

John, the corpsman, came over, frowning at the noise. "Doc is resting quietly in his own cabin. You need to quiet down. Ski, you should be resting."

"Aw, come on, John." Ski sounded hoarse and still a little weak, but he was unmistakably on the mend. "I want to hear about the vampire."

"You've heard a damned sight too much about the vampire." John could be as hard as the doc when it came to the welfare of his patients. He glared around at everyone. "You've already driven the XO out with your noise. He couldn't wait to get out of here! Wasn't that bad enough? You'll all be paying for it on the next watch! Clear out now, and let Ski, Pat, and the chief rest!"

"Hold on a minute!" Sharkey barked instinctively, not wanting the men to go before he had all the news. "What about the skipper? That thing scratched him, didn't she? And what about Doc? How bad is he hurt? And what the hell do you mean, these clowns drove the XO out?" Officers, damn it! Trouble magnets, each and every one. Even the ones Sharkey had always thought of as safe…

John heaved an enormous, exasperated sigh. "The skipper is fine. The scratches were superficial He probably won't even have any scars. And Doc is going to be okay. He lost a lot of blood, just like you did, chief, and his throat kind of looks like ground meat... Just like yours, chief. But you're both going to be okay." He glared around at the sailors again. "If you get some rest!"

"Okay, okay, geez, we can take a hint!" Crowe headed for the door, driving Malone, Alfaro, and Riley ahead of him, but he paused in the doorway. "Hey, chief, is it all right if Malone uses the missile room for some training?"

Training? What kind of training? Sharkey frowned, pondering that thought, but shook it away for a second until he had all the answers he wanted. "Just hold on a bit, Crowe. Hey, John, you didn't tell me about the XO."

John sighed. "He has a broken wrist and a mild – very mild – concussion. And he couldn't stand the noise in here, so I released him to his cabin. Which I doubt he's in, right now… Probably making rounds or something." He crossed his arms and glared at patients and visitors. "Satisfied? Will you at least try to rest now?"

Crowe returned to his question, like a dog gnawing at a bone. "What about the missile room, chief? Can we use it to train?"

Again Sharkey wondered what kind of training. With these guys, you just never knew. He narrowed his eyes. "Did you run it by the skipper?"

Alfaro cleared his throat – sure sign that something was going on. Alfaro only cleared his throat like that when they were doing something they weren't supposed to be doing... Or at least something they thought they weren't supposed to be doing… "We haven't had a chance yet, chief... We were hoping you would."

Sharkey sized them up with an eagle eye. His boys were up to something, but they weren't going to get away with it. "Out with it! Come on, you clowns, tell me what's going on here. What kind of training?"

Riley broke first; he grinned and said, "It's wizard, man! Malone is going to teach us all to throw the javelin!"

Crowe nodded, though he was a bit more matter-of-fact than Riley. "Yeah, chief. That way if we ever have any other vampires on board, they won't be a problem." He clapped Malone on the back and they went out the door.

Sharkey lay back against his pillows with a moan... It actually wasn't a bad idea at all... He might even want to be part of that training himself, but... Where were they going to get the stakes? It wasn't like they could waltz up to the XO and ask for a case. He could just imagine how that would go over…

But more importantly, how was he ever going to explain vampire killer training to the skipper?