; stories

Dany || 24 || Private Indie

[writtencraft]

CLAIRE

She knew that pause in his words, that look on his face; she could hear his quickened heartbeat as he accepted her invitation. He was tense. Not unjustly so, she thought. Did nerves plague him? Was he afraid or excited? Was it a mixture of relief and anxiety that flooded him as it did her? There was no way of knowing without asking, and Claire didn’t think she was quite ready for that yet.

Claire shook her head briefly, glad of a straightforward question with an easy answer. “No, the spell…I’m fine.” She flashed him a small, reassuring smile, absently wondering the last time she’d actually smiled and meant it. Certainly not since she and Roy had parted after their fight and that was at least a lifetime ago, it felt. Every bit of colored vision since then had been a painful reminder of what they’d had, and she’d found it difficult to summon up enough cheer to force a smile.

“I assume you’ll want to drive yourself,” she said to interrupt her own thoughts, shuddering internally at how tense that car ride would’ve been. Just the two of them, stuck in a confined space with the suffocating weight of recent events between them. It would’ve been almost as bad as reliving their fight, something she wanted to contain to her nightmares rather than real life. Clearing her throat, Claire started the engine to her car again.

“Meet me around back, by the orchard. The path will be lit up.” She pursed her lips and nodded, as though cementing the decision. Before she could say anything else she might regret, Claire rolled up the car window and pulled out her phone, opening her text messages with her brother.

[I have business with Roy tonight at home. Make yourself scarce.]

[Meeting is over. Consider me vanished.]

There had barely been a pause between the delivery of her own message and William’s response, but she’d held her breath waiting regardless. The vampire paused, resting her head against the steering wheel and loosing a long, surprisingly steady breath. Anxiety simmered beneath the surface of her skin, but having made the decision brought her a sense of closure that overrode her nerves.

Her fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel the entire drive home, a tattoo that beat in her head for the walk to the back orchards and gardens of the estate. Over the course of her lifetime, Claire had planted countless flowers and gardens, cultivating them all carefully for her purposes - food, poisons, enjoyment. The garden here, however, was by far her favorite. It was grand in an understated sort of way, tucked into a corner of the grounds and surrounded by native trees she’d left mostly untouched since they’d moved there. It was her own private spot, not one open for guests, and it practically screamed her name. A fenced off section contained the plants she grew for poisons; it was flanked by a small orchard of fruit trees and a prettily arranged series of flower beds full of night blooming flowers. The full moon shone down on them, and her fingers habitually brushed the white petals of her moonflowers as she passed.

At the heart of the garden, where the lit up path stopped, was a more recently cultivated section, and it was here that she stopped. The paving stones formed a circle, at the center of which was a small fountain. A comfortable bench was directly across from that, padded with large black cushions she’d chosen for their comfort. Claire paced in front of this, eyes darting between the willows that hid this section from the house and the flowers she’d very deliberately planted for the fae on whom she was so nervously waiting.

.

Fine. She was fine. She’d been dead only a few hours ago. The reminder cast a shadow over him, dimming every light in his eyes. And suddenly he was lost in a nightmare that he’d lived. He recalled how the colour drained from the world, leaving him emptier than he’d been before he’d met her. The world seemed crueler than he’d ever known it and the memory of it haunted him. He hadn’t been able to sleep. Did she realize? Did she realize how much power she had over him? That he couldn’t stop trembling at the idea of her heart stopping and the life leaving her body forever?

Did Claire know that he could destroy him without ever touching him?

‘I assume you’ll want to drive yourself.’

His attention drifted back to the world, to the living self of Claire that stood before him. Pale unlike any normal human, but with colour enough in her cheeks to tell him that she was alive. And her eyes, that stormy grey-blue that were the first colour he’d ever seen,  they held understanding in them. They knew of the hesitation that he had and they held the same fears. Was it presumptuous of Roy to guess that she was just as affected to be in his presence and he was in hers? He wondered if there was a type of soulmate intuition. He wondered if he should even risk any more presumptions after what had happened so many months ago. There were still so many questions about who they were to each other that they hadn’t had a chance to be answered before he’d jumped to conclusions and hurt them both.

He could only nod in response, not trusting the words in his mouth. While Roy had refused to keep running from her, it would take him time to trust all that they were. To do more than hold their relationship that a delicate butterfly that could be broken or fly away. It was simply the _love_ that he could no longer deny for the life of him.

‘Meet me around back, by the orchard. The path will be lit up.’

“I’ll see you then,” Roy murmured, watching her turn away.

'Don’t go,’ he wanted to say, and didn’t. It would surely kill him - this pain at having her near and the pain of having her far. This paradox he would never understand. When Claire entered her car, he forced himself to turn away.

Roy had spent many days and nights preparing himself to go on outings with her, whether they were dates or just company for jobs that William sent out. Yet he couldn’t figure out what was appropriate to this one. Was this a date? No… it wouldn’t be. He still had no idea what he was walking into - if it was good or bad. So, in the end, he settled for business casual and black. It was the type of wear that he would use when he went out on what would either turn out to be peaceful or aggressive business negotiations. Then Roy arranged his hair to be far more orderly than it had been when she’d come before, as he’d been practically disheveled before. Without his magic, the golden brown and nicely cut hair that he favoured was replaced with the natural raven-black from his birth. After that, he could only pace and wait as the minutes ticked by. His powers were still evading him so he settled to walk to his car and do what he could to stay calm and collected as he drove to her directions.

He came to a garden. It was closed off and beautiful, the type of place he would have easily settled in. His hand itched to grow the flowers and bushes that much bigger and brighter for Claire, if only he could sense his magic. But magic or not, Roy still felt the familiar and welcoming embrace of nature’s life as he stepped through and followed the lights. It kept him at peace, even as his heart hammered in his chest. He followed the glow and the sound of a gurgling fountain to come to an even more beautiful, concealed area. His eyes widened as he took it in. For a moment, all fear left him and all he could think of was how much the place reminded him of home - of memories that he’d shared with Claire. The flowers were reminiscent of Scotland and the willows concealed the area the way they used to conceal his mountain escape. His eyes finally settled on the paved area where the black cushions welcomed him towards garden comfort. And there he saw her - the tall, lithe body with her long, platinum hair. Roy held his breath as Claire turned to face him. But he wasn’t afraid any longer. He found his courage as he approached her.

“Did you arrange this place yourself?” He asked. Roy held her gaze, a mixture of hope and uncertainty in his eyes. “It’s brilliant... I just- I wonder why.”

[writtencraft]

MARKUS

Something solemn flickered over Rose’s face at his words and Markus wondered if he’d made some awful misstep. Before he could think too hard about it, however, she turned that sunshiny smile at him and returned his quip with one of her own. Not for the first time, Markus doubted whether or not she ever stayed mad or upset for more than a few minutes at a time. Maybe she was just exceptionally good at hiding it; there was, after all, more to this girl than met the eye. He’d already learned that the hard way.

“Look at you, abusing your privilege,” he chuckled after she’d spoken again, not at all upset by her actions. Though he’d never been the most tech savvy individual, Markus knew that his address was certainly public information and, more importantly, that Rose wouldn’t do anything nefarious with it. She was more likely to send him gifts than use it against him. If they pulled up to a bunch of flowers and chocolates on his doorstep, Markus wouldn’t be surprised.

He craned his neck to see past her shoulder and gave a little nod. “Home sweet home,” he said, with no small amount of self-deprecation. It was not a grand apartment complex, and nowhere near the nicest place he’d lived in his years on this earth. But, for the time being, it was where he slept and stored his shit, and that made it home as far as he was concerned. He undid his seatbelt with a swift motion and turned a cocky grin to Rose as he opened the car door.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna invite you up for a nightcap, princess. Gotta keep your wits about you for all that sleuthing.” He winked then glanced distractedly at the sky; the black that had surrounded them since he’d been picked up at the bar was lightening just slightly on the horizon. One heavy hand patted the top of the car. “It’s almost dawn. Go get some sleep. And Rose?” he added, bending to meet her gaze through the car. “Thanks.” With that, he stepped into the pre-dawn street and made his way inside.

.

‘Look at you, abusing your privilege.’

She grinned. “It’s called being harmlessly resourceful,” Rose corrected Markus, no amount of sass held back.

His tone about his home made her frown - but she did not feel as if it was her place, nor the time, to wonder why Markus didn’t look too pleased. She could see nothing wrong with his apartment. Yes, it was not a place you’d find a well-to-do celebrity or even a casual business man, but Rose had never lived with very much herself - raised by a single father who was not even her true father. And she had learned that happy memories and sometimes people are what made a house a home.

Perhaps that was it. Instead of feeling any amount of pity, Rose only felt a twinge of determination. Pity was unnecessary for him and it was something that she had always been tired of people feeling for her. Besides, this was her friend now. No friend of her’s would ever feel alone if she had any say in it.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not gonna invite you up for a nightcap, princess. Gotta keep your wits about you for all that sleuthing.’

“I—” Her mouth opened and shut like a fish before she openly glared. A harmless glare, one that held no malice. “You’re foul,” she muttered, even as she grinned directly afterwards. 

‘It’s almost dawn. Go get some sleep. And Rose?’

She had been smiling to herself, turned to put her car back into drive when Markus said her name. She found herself smiling wider, only because it sounded so unexplainable nice coming from him. Rose wasn’t sure she’d ever liked her name more than she did then. Then every facet of her expression softened at the gratitude he expressed. She’d all but forgotten the thoughts of murder or suspicion that had gone through her head an hour or so ago. That softness was response enough, especially since Markus turned from her immediately afterward. Rose took a deep breath, heart hammering, and drove off without nothing left but something akin to joy in her heart.

FIN

[writtencraft]

MARKUS

I never knew if it bothered them or not. Markus wondered how old Rose had been when her parents died, then. Old enough to know what soul mates and marks were, but not old enough to have a deep conversation with her parents about their mismatched set. Or perhaps they just didn’t have that kind of relationship. It brought into sharp relief just how much he didn’t know about the woman. The feeling was a tad disorienting - she was one of the first people he truly enjoyed in quite some time, and yet theirs was still a fairly superficial acquaintance. Given that’s how he’d been with everyone for decades, it wasn’t unusual per se, but it was beginning to feel…lacking. There was more to know about this human, and he wanted to pursue it, if only to satiate his curiosity. He’d just have to fight a few centuries of preservation instincts to do so.

Clearing his throat, he slid into the passenger seat and buckled himself in. “I guess you’ll just need to give me a dozen or so more rides to places,” he chuckled, “or beat me at a few more games I thought I was an expert at.” His grin this time was broad and toothy, brought on by the more pleasant memories of that evening. He stretched his arms as far back as he could, briefly patting his hands along the inside of the car roof before letting them fall back into his lap. One of the downfalls of being as big as he was - never being quite comfortable in a car. Modern things just weren’t built for men of his size, though he wouldn’t trade modern amenities for anything.

“You don’t owe me for that, you know,” he said after a moment. “I know you joke, but you seem like the type to believe in something like a life debt.” It’d been a common enough concept during his time as a human, though it’d gone out of fashion in any practical sense, except to be romanticized in the occasional novel. Rose had a sensible head on her shoulders, but adrenaline and danger had a funny way of bypassing that. “It wasn’t anything really chivalrous, just me making sure no one had to die at the hand of those jokers. I would’ve done it for anyone.” He shrugged, then cleared his throat again. “Although I guess I do like you a bit more than a random passerby,” he added with a wink. That, at least, was true no matter what the nature of their friendship was. Markus admittedly had always had a soft spot for blondes. 

.

‘I guess you’ll just need to give me a dozen or so more rides to places, or beat me at a few more games I thought I was an expert at.’

Rose had chuckled at that, grinning at the memory. 

‘You don’t owe me for that, you know I know you joke, but you seem like the type to believe in something like a life debt.’

All manner of amusement faded as she frowned, brows furrowing. No one would have easily pegged Rose to be intense or dramatic so she was surprised with how Markus seemed to think so. The truth was, she was afraid for people to leave as her parents had; she had always done what it took to keep those she cared about from disappearing. From Jonah, a man to which she quite literally owed her life to, to friends that she might have simply failed in some way or another. Even the simplest act of forgetting to pay someone back would make Rose rush to find the money in any way possible and buy them extra lunch or dinner to boot. And she never forgot when she made a mistake, or when someone had done her a kindness. Memory of an elephant, they liked to tell her.

'It wasn’t anything really chivalrous, just me making sure no one had to die at the hand of those jokers. I would’ve done it for anyone.'

Smiling again, Rose glanced over briefly.

‘Although I guess I do like you a bit more than a random passerby.’

“I would hope so,” she muttered, the smile withstanding. “I don’t stick my neck out at my job for just anyone...” Rose didn’t wait for his instructions to turn into the correct street. “That being said, I do have to make a confession that I may have peaked over my coworker’s shoulder and saw your address in your documents already so you don’t actually have to tell me...” She slowed the car down as a few buildings came into view. “This it?” 

[writtencraft]

CLAIRE

Claire wasn’t sure what she’d expected from Roy. Yelling, perhaps. Telling her to get the fuck off his property, that he didn’t want to see her again. That this was an intrusion and if he’d wanted to be around her, he would’ve been. An apology hadn’t even made the list of possible scenarios she’d mulled over during the drive. And yet, here he was, calmly and directly telling her he’d been in the wrong about his accusations. That he was sorry. She could see the confession was costing Roy a great deal, that it was a struggle in some way - either to talk to her at all, or to say what he was saying. His jaw was tense and she could hear his pulse, a steady but quick beat against his skin.

One long finger ran along the edge of the steering wheel and she let out an unsteady breath. She had been prepared to feel many things: regret, pain, sadness. But not…gratitude. Not hope. His words hit her right in the gut, a blow to her pride and what had felt like righteous anger. She’d wanted an answer, devoid of any emotion that may have gone with it, but she should’ve known you couldn’t divorce the two. Not for something as huge and sacrificial as this. Roy’s lack of pretense had deflated her in the best way possible, but it also left her at a loss for what to say. Thank you felt too small. Anything flippant would be too harsh and dismissive of what he’d done, for which she truly was thankful, even if his action healed and wounded at the same time.

No, this required something grander. The fae had been big enough to own his mistakes, and she owed him the same honesty. Her heart clenched at the plan beginning to form in her thoughts, but she pushed past it. Whether or not Roy still felt anything for her beyond some kind of obligation to keep her alive, she knew it was in her best interest to admit her own feelings in whatever way she could. Her heart’s rebellion was a knee-jerk reaction of self-preservation she would’ve listened to before she met Roy, but that Claire no longer existed. It was a brutal truth she’d come to terms with when color entered her world; there was no avoiding that now. Even if this was the true, bitter end of what they had, she knew deep down that she had to show him.

“Can you come by the estate tomorrow night? I…I think I have something to show you.” Meeting Roy’s gaze again, Claire managed a watery smile. “Or…maybe tonight? I can call William, make sure he’s gone. I’m not sure how long my nerve will last…” She bit her lip at that, not liking the admittance of vulnerability but needing to explain. Part of her felt like she needed to go sleep for a week straight from this encounter alone, but part also felt like just ripping the band aid off in one fell swoop. Roy was the only one who could make her feel this unsure, and she just wanted it to be over, one way or the other.

His body felt alight with the desire to run. Running was something Roy Murdoch did best. Running from his family’s killer in the Scottish Highlands, running from various wars, running for the fae court in West Hollow, running from various enemies throughout the years. Evasion was an art he had perfected. Evading hurt, death and, worst of all: loss. True loss could not be felt if you had no connections to anyone. Everything had been black and white in every sense of the word. To do, to not do, the good, the bad, the exact plans he had for every scenario he might come across. He never could have suspected that someone would bring him so much colour. With colour came brilliance, beauty and joy unlike anything else but also the fact that life was not so simple as black and white anymore. He could be afraid to love but want it nothing more in the world. He could never feel braver than when he was at his most vulnerable.

He could wish to run now when all he knew all he wanted to do was stay with her. Love was such a complicated paradox.

He hated it. But he couldn’t deny it any longer. Spilling his truth had taken every ounce of his strength and he stood stark still even as his muscles itched with the desire to turn away before she could punish that vulnerability. Before, perhaps, she could snap or brush away his apology. Her hesitation was agony with every microsecond. Roy was restless with fear. His eyes darted away from her in the moment it took for her to respond.

‘Can you come by the estate tomorrow night? I…I think I have something to show you.’

He looked back at Claire, puzzled and anxious.

‘Or…maybe tonight? I can call William, make sure he’s gone. I’m not sure how long my nerve will last…’

“I ---” A beat. He exhaled some of his tension and found himself nodding. “Of course,” he said hoarsely. Did she want to hurt him? Kill him? Question him further about what he had done to her? It didn’t matter. If he was walking into death and destruction or salvation and mercy, Roy decided he was done with running. He clear his throat and continued. “I can do that. Tonight.” An inquisitive, suddenly worried pause. “Is something wrong with the spell? With...” You. What if this was only that they needed him again? It wouldn’t matter if they did, he’d go regardless. But the thought of something that might have gone wrong sent his pulse in a frenzy.

[writtencraft]

MARKUS

A gruff snort of laughter escaped him at her playful rebuttal. He’d been told to fuck off too many times to count, in too many languages to recall, but never as cutely. Though she still seemed justly skeptical of him, she seemed pacified enough to drop the Spanish Inquisition, and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. That’d been enough intensity for one day, though he wasn’t mad that it’d led to her smiling. It was becoming one of his favorite sights all too quickly, thought that sat a little uncomfortably with him despite their previous conversation. There were certain feelings he hadn’t addressed in the light of day since he’d seen the light of day. Being charming with Rose was not quite the same, he told himself; that wasn’t quite as soul-baring.

Scratching at the back of his head, he willed that train of thought aaaaaaaall the way to the back of his mind “Your parents weren’t soulmates? Huh…” His brows raised briefly, both impressed and a little surprised. People were people and would find ways to hook up no matter what, but in modern years, it’d been much more common for soulmates to have the patience and ability to find one another. Hell, there were even dating apps dedicated to it, which he’d contemplated a time or two before remembering it’d been 1,000 years without a match; why worry now? That train of thought was far too similar to the one he was avoiding, however, and he cleared his throat. 

“Must’ve gotten some looks at school, especially if they went on about being monster fighters.” He waggled both brows at her, as though the idea of such a thing was patently absurd. Internally, he couldn’t help but wonder what her ancestors must’ve done to gain such a long-lived reputation. Where there were vampires, there were vampire hunters, and there had been for ages. It was something worth pursuing with her later.

Belatedly, he realized she’d spoken of her parents in the past tense; how she remembered them being. He didn’t recall her mentioning them before, which made sense if they were departed. Not wanting to dredge up anything painful, he sidestepped yet another topic of conversation, feeling more than a little awkward. He’d forgotten how to be considerate in most conversations and had apparently gotten rusty at it. Rose’s last question, at least, seemed like safer territory.

“The only thing creepy about my apartment is some unexplained mold at the back of the cabinet under the kitchen sink,” he replied, grinning as she led him, presumably, to her car. “I’ve got a roommate, but he’s never home. Med student, I think? I dunno, never really asked anything beyond if he could pay part of the rent. But it’s just outside of downtown, within walking distance of Front street, with all the bars.” He mimed taking a shot before giving her a brief, if actual smile. “I appreciate the returned favor, princess. My ass is lazy and it’s been a weird night.”

.

'Your parents weren’t soulmates? Huh…’ She shook her head. “No... They could see in color, but they had marks... They just didn’t match. I never knew if it bothered them or not.” Perhaps it might’ve, she thought. Her parents had only been together for a few years, never truly romantic and always obsessive over their work as far as she could remember and as far as Jonah was able to tell her. Rose liked to hope that they really would’ve worked out. She liked to think they loved each other for more than just their work. Mostly, Rose liked to hope for true love regardless of some divine intervention because she didn’t know if she’d ever be lucky enough to find a mark that matched her own. It helped her not to think about it. 

‘Must’ve gotten some looks at school, especially if they went on about being monster fighters.’ Rose chuckled, though looking a bit crestfallen and thoughtful. “Probably,” she replied, letting out a small scoff. She smiled and continued on with the clear intention not to let any sad thoughts get the best of her. Even more than a decade after their death, some things seemed to bring back the emotions of a lonely little orphan, but she’d worked hard to be more than that. It was surprising enough she’d somehow felt comfortable enough to even mention her parents in front of Markus. Her friends knew her as the most vivacious, sweet and cheerful company they could have. Only Jonah, her father for all intents and purposes now, had heard Rose’s sad, honest tales.

As he explained his house, Rose grinned slightly and unlocked her car. They approached while he described his roommate and she started to wonder if they also thought Markus was as weird as she did. Privately, she hoped to meet them. Anything related to her new... friend (?) just seemed to pique her interest more than most things. “Right,” she murmured, opened the door and sliding into the seat. “It’s no problem,” she said with a small sigh. “You save my ass from gangsters at the dock and I... give you a ride from the Police station. We’re... almost even,” she joked lightheartedly.

[writtencraft]

CLAIRE

After what felt like hours passed, Claire debated on just leaving. He never had to know she’d even driven to his house, that’d she’d been desperate enough to do so without any kind of real plan. That she’d attempted to look nice, perhaps even pretty, despite hoping he wasn’t even home. Then she heard the front door open and his familiar footsteps on the ground; she’d know his gait anywhere. She held her breath then let it out in a slow, measured stream.

A non-committal noise escaped her lips as his words. Did he really care if she was alright? Would he have helped if he didn’t care at least a little? Would he have left her again if there was something still between them? Her brain spun the familiar questions around once more. Ultimately, though, speculation was pointless. She’d come to hear the story of that night, not try and rekindle their shaky romance. At least, that was what she’d told herself. Something within her wavered at seeing Roy in person again; he looked skinny, like he’d been sick or sleepless. The sharp lines of his face seemed more pronounced, his eyes more intense. Perhaps she’d simply remembered him more kindly in her dreams.

Silence lapsed between them, a tension she eventually broke. “Why did you bring me back?” Claire asked quietly, resting her head against the inside window frame of the car door. She was too exhausted, in every sense of the word, to dance around the question. There could be only one way to soothe the gnawing at the back of her mind that had been present since she’d nearly died, and she just wanted it done with. The faster this confrontation was over, the faster she could go back to the black hole her life had become and forget about what she and Roy had had.

Though she wanted to follow her question with a dozen more - What did you have to gain? Wouldn’t death have been easier for both of us? Why on earth would you listen to my brother? - she didn’t. Instead, Claire only rubbed at her temple.

“I just need closure.” She waved one hand dismissively, add if saying ‘don’t worry about anything else.’ Claire closed her eyes briefly before daring to meet Roy’s for a moment. She’d almost expected them to no longer be that haunting blue, but her color vision remained. Though her world had been turned inside out twice, that life altering fact remained the same. As she glanced away, she tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear and rested one hand on the steering wheel. For quite possibly the first time in her life, she couldn’t maintain eye contact.

.

‘Why did you bring me back?’

Because I can’t live knowing you’re not in the world. Because I love you. Because you’re worth more than anything I’ve ever found in centuries of living, including my own life. 

None of those words seemed to make it out of his throat. Roy had never thought himself particularly brave. Cunning, yes. Ruthless and ambitious? Absolutely. But brave, especially when it came to speaking the truth of how he felt… no. It didn’t come easy. He was well aware of how ironic that was. A fae who, by nature, was forced to speak nothing but the truth or face physical pain could not be honest about his own emotions. He skirted past them with a practice so honed and perfected over the years that no one had ever truly known him, no one but Claire.

‘I just need closure.’

He looked at her and that mirroring reluctance that he had and it only made his fear of speaking up that much more potent. Could she have moved on? No matter how much Claire could have been grateful and appreciative for what he had done, Roy hadn’t expected her to remember what it was like for them to love one another. He had hurt her. He didn’t deserve it, no matter how much he might have privately hoped and longed for it. But he could try to be honest, especially if it was his last chance.

“I… I was wrong,” he muttered. A beat. “I was wrong for accusing you of doing more than your job that night… For thinking that you weren’t loyal. I apologize.” Roy shook his head, teeth grit so hard that half of him was afraid he’d chip them. Almost every instinct inside him told him that this honesty was dangerous and he fought against himself. “I was afraid. I know that’s no excuse, but I’ve never had someone like you in my life before, Claire, and I made a mistake. Then I thought I was angry at you when I left New York, but I was really angry at what I’d done, what I’d become. And even if I was angry at you - do you really think I could have let you die? I had just returned to the city to finish the last of my business here when I got William’s message…”

Hesitation. He tensed with the memory. Roy’s eyes seemed far away as he recalled the blinding panic that had led him to think of only one thing and one thing only: saving Claire. He’d managed to forget their entire history in that single moment, only remembering that he loved her and he couldn’t live without her. He words spilled out as he thought of it, shaking his head slowly. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if... if anything had happened.”

[writtencraft]

MARKUS

There she went again, gears in her brain almost visibly churning away to try and explain what most people couldn’t wrap their heads around. He almost wished she would accuse him of being what he was and get it over with; it would likely save them both some heartache. Some time, at least. There was virtually no chance she was his soulmate, and wasn’t anything else… useless? He could live with being lonely again, though he wasn’t especially fond of being misunderstood. He bristled a bit at her implication, ignoring the fact that she was more or less right, and scratched habitually at the hip where his soulmark was. Whether or not he ever found his mark’s match, it seemed now was the time to at least admit he had a soft spot for Rose.

“If it makes any difference, you’re the only person I’ve kissed this…” Markus paused to calculate, “…year. Maybe 16 months. I was drunk. Look, my point is…just because I’ve kissed a few people doesn’t mean ours meant nothing.” This was at least slightly safer territory to steer things toward; he’d rather deal with feelings than the supernatural. Pushing himself off the wall, he moved to stand in front of her, peering down into her eyes. Had he really noticed how blue they were before? Or was it simply because she seemed a bit flushed? “I…had a really good time out at the bar, up on the roof. Well, after I was sure you weren’t gonna fall to your death.” He quirked one corner of his mouth up in a smile.

“I’m really not as complicated as all that, I promise.” He shrugged, then rested on hand on the wall beside her head. “A bit of a rough upbringing, some time in the military. But now?” There was just a faint hint of sadness to his smile as he moved his free hand to briefly cup Rose’s chin in surprisingly gentle fingers. “I’d rather play video games and stare at the sky with a pretty women.” He let his hand drop then shrugged again.

“There are plenty of monsters around, but I’m not one of them.” At least, he thought, not this time. “I don’t want any trouble, all of this drama with the fuzz.” He exhaled slowly. Markus had learned ages ago that one didn’t need to be special to be cruel or evil, and that most monsters were disappointingly human. The jury was still out on god. “But if you want things that go bump in the night, love,” he added, comically thrusting his hips in a clear indication of the bumping he meant, “then I’m your man.” That playful smirk crossed his features again. He never could resist a good set up.

.

‘If it makes any difference, you’re the only person I’ve kissed this…year. Maybe 16 months. I was drunk.’ Rose raised her brows, staring at him, unsure whether to be complimented or offended.

‘Look, my point is…just because I’ve kissed a few people doesn’t mean ours meant nothing. I…had a really good time out at the bar, up on the roof. Well, after I was sure you weren’t gonna fall to your death.’ Her lips managed to quirk slightly at that, some amusement hidden in those stoic features. She listened quietly. But though Rose had intended to be serious and not so easily swayed by his charms this time around, she could feel that resolve being peeled away with the softness of his words and the sadness in his eyes. He lifted her chin up gently and it was as though tickling electricity was snaking it’s way through her veins.

Her expression had softened up considerably by the time the crass joke left him. The moment it did, her eyes widened and she scoffed out in disbelief. “Oh, fuck off,” she breathed out, gently stamping her foot over his in a manner that was more playful than anything. Her face was slightly red. But as seemingly delicate and poised as Rose was to most, there was hardly any of that to be found once she’d found herself comfortable with someone. She was grinning afterwards shook her head. “Just... Come on,” she said, gesturing for him to follow as she took steps forward. “I’ll take you back home.”

“… And I wasn’t kidding, y’know,” she stated as they walked to the precinct parking lot. “My mom used to say our family was descended from ‘ancient monster fighters.’” Rose grinned at the term, air quotes easily detected in her tone of voice. “— that we could trace our lineage back to the Vikings and the Celtics. My dad believed in the same things and they weren’t even soulmates. Both of them talked about fairytales and monsters like I could be walking the streets with witches, werewolves and vampires and not know it. And sometimes you’re only slightly less weird than I remember them being so... take that as you will. If I bring you home is it going to be a creepy, dark manor in the middle of the woods?” Her tone was teasing. It was easy to see that Rose could no longer believe he was anything but a normal guy with a past as strange as her’s; everything he had said about not being guilty had been taken as true from her. Even from the moment Rose had found out about it, as weird as Markus was, she just couldn’t have suspected that he’d actually killed the girl. Now it felt as though she could logically embrace that bit of unexplainable faith she’d had.

[writtencraft]

CLAIRE

As Roy turned and left, William felt something within him break with unbearable sadness. His chest was heavy with unspoken mourning, with pain he knew his sister would feel upon waking fully. He also knew his feeling these things would do nothing to lessen Claire’s burden, just as he knew he couldn’t stop himself from trying to do so regardless. Letting out an eternally long sigh, the vampire brought his attention back to Claire and the doctor busy hooking her up to other monitors and checking her vitals.

The siblings spent another night there, safely tucked away in Dr. Stoker’s vampire-approved chambers, until Claire was able to move on her own accord. She’d been dealt a heavy blow, and even with her accelerated healing, it would take some time to fully recover. Weakened as she was, Claire only wanted to return home, to be left to lick her wounds, literal and physical. Once they’d reached the privacy of William’s car, however, she rolled exhausted eyes to him. “Was…Roy there? Or was…was I dreaming?” 

The elder Wandesford paused as he started the engine and started them on the path home. “He was not a dream, dear heart. He helped…no. I helped him save you.” He sniffed delicately and pulled onto the street. Claire didn’t press further, slipping into silence.

——

The next several days were a blur of painkillers, alcohol, and sleep. Even when Claire would normally be waking, she slept. It was the best way to heal, but it also meant she didn’t have to think or feel anything. Sleep was a blessed numbness that she desperately needed. And yet…she still dreamed. Some of them were bloody, in vibrant color, a distortion of her recent failings. UV lights, gun shots, Roy sneering at their mutual deception and leaving her behind. Some were soft and ensnaring, reminders of the thrills and gentle moments she’d shared with the fae. His eyes. His eyes. Welcoming, shrewd, piercing her own. Claire woke in a cold sweat more than once, no matter what the dream had been. The alcohol didn’t help, but she drank it anyway.

Curled up in her bed and lost between the sheets, Claire tried to recall if Roy had looked happy for that moment she’d seen him in the doctor’s basement. Was he surprised? Pained? Frustrated?  How much of her memory was faulty, given what had happened? Not being able to trust her recollection of things was maddening, an itch under her skin that she couldn’t quite reach no matter how she contorted or what she damaged in the process. It was enough to drive her to one conclusion: she needed to speak to Roy. It took her another week after coming to this decision to act upon it.

Despite what had happened to Claire, William still had business to attend to, even more so now as there was vengeance to be had for damages caused to his family. Knowing he’d set a meeting for that Saturday, Claire worked up the energy to shower and put on something presentable, if casual. She’d always felt she could hide in bulky sweaters, and feeling bolstered by that idea, she picked out the biggest one she owned; it felt like slipping into armor, and she needed it. Makeup, too, was armor, and it hid how lifeless she’d felt since nearly dying. How drained of color her world felt once again, despite the fact her vision swam with vibrant hues, a constant reminder of her attachment to Roy.

There were dozens of cars at the manse, and enough people milling around that her presence went unnoted. Without so much as a nod of hello to anyone, she grabbed a set of keys from the massive board in the garage, not caring what she wound up in; in this case, the destination was more important than the journey. Knowing full well she could be wrong, Claire nonetheless took a deep breath and headed toward Roy’s woodland home. She would never forgive herself if she didn’t at least hear the story of what had happened, learn why he’d even bothered to give her a second chance. Her heart was in her throat for the entire winding drive and her palms were sweaty against the steering wheel. Her stomach rebelled at the idea of being so emotionally vulnerable once more when they’d both proven this wasn’t something they could do.

And yet….yet you must. 

It was with a long, unsteady breath that she finally brought the car to a halt in Roy’s driveway and killed the engine. One hand, only trembling slightly, pulled her phone out of her purse and unlocked the screen. She repeated the process at least 10 times, mind going blank as she tried to think of what she would even say. She’d done the work of driving there - a task her healing body was not currently thanking her for - yet her mind refused to put anything to words. From where she sat, she had no way of knowing if anyone was even home, if all this was pointless after all. Finally, she shook her head and typed the first thing that came to mind.

[You saved my life. You’d best make it up to me.]

She hit “send” and immediately tossed the phone into the passenger seat, bringing her knees to her chest. What have you done? she thought, burying her head in her hands.

.

The next few days were a blur that consisting of nothing of substance. He was a robot, acting on autopilot to make sure business was running smoothly by phone calls and emails and then making sure he ate food and slept enough. Sleeping had become more and more difficult. Roy had always been bordering on nocturnal but now he found himself tired on both days and nights and living off naps every few hours no matter if the sky was dark or light. Leaving the house wasn’t an option. Leaving the house meant he went to the city and risked seeing the Wandesfords. Leaving the house also meant admitting to himself it was time to catch a plane back to Europe. There was no part of him that truly and genuinely wanted to return to Europe, not without Claire. 

Memories of that day replayed over and over in Roy head no matter how much he tried to drive them away. A colorless world. The sight of those stormy blue-grey eyes. He found himself testing out his magic every other day and wondering if it would ever come back. Thus far there had been no luck but he couldn’t manage to care much about it. Madam Lia, his most trusted witch, stopped by every once in a while after she’d discovered his problem but even she couldn’t give him the motivation he needed to put effort into his magic. “Magic is a muscle that needs physical therapy as much as any other after damage, if you don’t try to get back into it - you’re going to lose it.” He argued that he had already lost it and there was no point in trying. Eventually she stopped arguing with him. Someone who wouldn’t stop arguing with him, however, was that mermaid. Athena Ray managed to find his address and stopped by every few days, even after he finally divulged the story of what happened between him and Claire.

“I know what happened, I just wanted to know what you’re going to do about it. You’re being a coward,” she snapped.

Roy reached for his cup of water and the mermaid willed it to slide over to her instead. “Go see her. At the very least, call her. You know she’s doing as well as you are nowadays. One of you has to stop this...” She willed the glass back to Roy who now stared at it silently.

“It’s none of your business,” he muttered coldly.

“You made it my business when you hurt her,” Athena retorted, getting up and walking over to him. Roy had since come to associate the smell of salty ocean breeze with something threatening. “Man up before you lose the one thing that gives your depressing existence some real meaning.” And with that, Athena left another day.

Another day passed and another. Being pelted with an angry mermaid’s words and his own very loud thoughts over time had left Roy thinking quietly to himself one evening as he stared down at his phone on the table. The truth was inescapable: he couldn’t be alone. Claire had destroyed what he’d once seen as wonderful quiet and solitude and made it into something haunting and terrifying. He knew what he was missing out on and that feeling never left him. Money and magic had never made his life full, it was the promise of sharing that and everything else that he loved with someone that he loved and who loved him in return. Could he survive another century or so knowing that he gave up on the one thing that made him happier than anything else? Could he go on living a half life? After an hour or so of dwelling on his thoughts he found his finger hovering over the call button.

And then came the text. 

You saved my life. You’d best make it up to me.

Roy stared at it for a good minute before he realizing how fast and loudly his heart was beating. And before he knew what he was doing, his trembling fingers hovered over the keyboard on his phone. But there was nothing he could think of to say. Roy growled and shoved the device into his pockets as he walked into his foyer. He snatched the coat of it’s hook and rushed out into the dark, chilly night hoping to get to his car before he lost all his courage. He kept looking down at the text in his phone until he saw the recognizable car in the driveway and froze in place. “Claire,” he breathed out, shocked and suddenly full of equal measures apprehension and joy. She was his very own emotional paradox and she was physically there, within distance of speaking. Yet he couldn’t think of what to say. Relief flooded through him as he could tell that she was back to normal, healthy and okay. “I-” Gulping and shutting off his phone, Roy shoved it into his coat pocket without breaking eye contact. “I was going to...” A sharp sigh. “--- I’m glad you’re alright.”

[writtencraft]

WILLIAM/CLAIRE

There was rebuke in Roy’s words, and William would be lying if he said it didn’t sting at least a little. The both of them had Claire’s best interests at heart, and that apparently did not necessarily require niceties toward one another. Swallowing his pride, William, too, stood and nursed the cup of coffee; it was good for heat, if not for drinking. “Fair,” he said tersely, though his next words were cut off as he caught faint movement on the table.

A long, shuddering sigh left Claire’s body and she lay still for several heartbeats before both eyes struggled to flutter open. William turned at the sound of her breath, feeling his heart leap into his throat. The doctor, too, seemed surprised and he took a step back in case anything violent accompanied her stirring. At first, Claire’s gaze was unfocused, directed at somewhere at the space above her brother’s head. Some part of her seemed to recognize Roy’s presence, however, and those blue-grey orbs fixated on the fae’s face. She inhaled, deep and uneven. Her lips parted ever so slightly, into something that could’ve been a smile, and then she once again succumbed to unconsciousness. It was a strange sight, the peaceful expression on her bloodied body as she lay limp again. Like some medieval battlefield painting of a saint’s last battle.

After waiting several minutes to see if Claire would fully wake, William finally turned back to Roy, still pondering his last words. He hesitated, chewing his lower lip, and then let out a quick breath. “I won’t say a thing. But you should.” He was too tired to try and walk the many lines his relationship with Roy involved: the respect of a business partner, a fellow immortal and man; the wary protectiveness of Claire’s brother; the command of Roy’s previous employer. His heart was aching for his sister, and it was the only thing he could act on. In that moment, he was certain she’d want to hear about Roy’s actions…but not from William. No, if she was going to go through what tonight’s events entailed, it was best she go through it with her soulmate. Like it or not, that was the role they still occupied for one another. Fate did not need William’s intervention, it seemed.

“She at least deserves to know how she’s still alive. Maybe you deserve her thanks. Maybe you both deserve each other as punishment.” Broad shoulders rose in a shrug that plainly said What do I know? Just before turning away to watch the doctor go about his work, William flashed a quick, sad smile. 

.

His mind was unfocused, unable to fully process the things he had gone through within the expanse of barely an hour. He could not feel anymore fear or gratefulness or sympathy. There was only relief. There was relief and some numbing, empty feeling that kept him from fully breaking down at the idea of leaving it all again, of returning to that existence he’d made for himself without Claire. She had ruined his life. There was a time where Roy was content and satisfied within a life of solitude and adventure - where he found purpose with his business and among his collection of magic. But now everything was bleak. Now every treasure he had, every success he earned and every possession that he claimed only made him feel lonelier than he ever was before. There was no purpose to life without someone there to share in the riches and the happiness, he realized that now. All his life had been over a century of nothing but a life half lived, trying to find feeling with things that only distracted him from the emptiness. Now presented with the opportunity to be that man again, he took it, regardless of the knowledge that he did not want it. He took it because it felt safer than feeling of rejection and loss that he had felt a few months back he and Claire had tended. It felt safer than feeling all that fear and hopelessness that had made a home in his skin the very moment that he thought Claire was gone forever. There was so much to feel - it was simply better to be numb to it all.

Movement and sound. It hit him like a revitalizing energy; it electrocuted his senses back to life. Roy stumbled back up from the floor to look over at the table as Claire stirred and her eyes opened. Without thinking, he simply looked to see that she was okay; it was all that had been wanting. Those startlingly bright blue-grey eyes of her’s met his and he felt the breath falter in his lungs and skin prickle like tingles of electricity in his veins. She looked at him. Their eyes met and for that slice of time, that measure of a second, he felt peace. That true, unexplainable peace that tasted like home and which lasted only as long as she looked at him. Her head lolled back to the side as unconsciousness took her again and Roy exhaled the breath he had been holding in. 

Frozen in place for a few minutes, he stared at as William and the doctor assessed her state. He loved Claire more than anything. Why was he leaving? After looking at her, after meeting her gaze, leaving her after what she’d been through felt so senseless - all he wanted to do was be at her side. But William turned to look at him and is words brought back the reality that he’d felt only a moment ago. ‘I won’t say a thing. But you should.’ Surely that Roy Murdoch that had decided to go without a word had had more sense. Surely he was right. This emotional, childish part of him could not be counted on, Roy thought. He gulped and hesitated in place, face stony and unreadable. 

‘She at least deserves to know how she’s still alive. Maybe you deserve her thanks. Maybe you both deserve each other as punishment.’

“As long as she’s alright, nothing else matters,” Roy muttered, buttoning the coat that he’d never even had time to take off. He turned around, walking towards the door and only pausing for a moment. “Take care, William,” he added, not looking back. He walked out. 

[writtencraft]

MARKUS

He blinked in surprise at Rose’s vehement words, allowing himself to be dragged off while he finished chewing thoughtfully on another handful of the stolen trail mix. It was easy for him to forget just how seriously mortals could take certain events, ones that rolled off his back without a second thought. Sure, being pulled down to the station was annoying, but it was no real threat to his person or lifestyle. He could easily up and leave if things became too complicated for his liking, as he’d done a thousand times in the past. Although, the thought of leaving the city when he’d just gotten so cozy didn’t thrill him. Especially since it would likely mean leaving Rose behind as well. His brows furrowed at the idea as they came to a stop outside the building. 

Part of him wanted to make some joke about her leading him somewhere private –All you had to do was ask, you know–but the expression on Rose’s face, coupled with her wounded words, wiped any thought of levity from him. Fuck. Once again, his past was coming to bite him in the ass. This right here was half the reason he usually avoided attachments; it meant he didn’t have to worry about coming up with cover stories or dealing with people’s suspicions. But here he was, somehow having earned the trust of this petite blonde angel, and he was already letting her down.

Aggravated with the whole situation, and with himself, he reached up and rubbed at his face. A sigh escaped him and he moved to lean against the wall next to Rose. “I’m not lying to you, Rose,” he said softly, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his words and the fact he’d used her real name. “All the gods that ever were and ever will be as my witness,” he continued, raising one hand as though swearing an oath, “I had nothing to do with the death of that woman. I was just at that bar when shit happened, that’s all.” Broad shoulders rose in a shrug. There were a million other things he couldn’t tell her, shouldn’t tell her, and he wished he could also say with any honesty that he wasn’t hiding anything from her. Markus had a reputation for being brutally honest, but there were some truths that couldn’t see the light of day. That wall she sensed was for her own protection and she was most assuredly on the right side of it.. It’s for her own good, he reminded himself. Even if he did trust her.

One corner of his lips quirked up in a faint smile as he latched on to something else she’d said in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit. “It’s good to know you don’t just go kissing random passers-by, though. Bad for your health,” he said, chuckling faintly. He found himself feeling a bit possessive at the idea of her sharing a special moment with another, but that was perhaps another truth best left buried. Fewer hurt feelings if things soured the way he expected them to. She said she was willing to tell him anything now, that she cared for him now, but the vampire had learned that rarely lasted. That was the other half of why he avoided attachments.

.

‘... All the gods that ever were and ever will be as my witness, I had nothing to do with the death of that woman. I was just at that bar when shit happened, that’s all.’ He spoke so strangely. ‘Gods.’ He behaved so strangely. Sometimes it was as though Rose felt she were speaking to some ancient being or a figure in a storybook rather than a real and modern human-being. None of their meetings ever felt completely normal. Perhaps that was what was so magnetic about him, perhaps that was why she wasn’t so different from her reckless parents - Rose ready to risk everything to satisfy her curiousity.

‘It’s good to know you don’t just go kissing random passers-by, though. Bad for your health.’

Brows raised slightly, lips pursing as though impatient with his jokes. But a slight upward curl of her lips was unavoidable at the sound of his light laughter. Rose’s expression sobered up almost immediately, having still recognized when a man tried to skirt past the truth. She sighed and sized him up. “Maybe I should,” she murmured. “Clearly you do.” Pursing her lips, she took a deep breath and backtracked. “It’s, um- look, I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. If we’re not on the same page, then that’s fine. We won’t do it again and... and well, we can forget about it...” She looked around, awkwardly brushed blonde hair behind her ear as she gathered her words. “What really annoys me is just how confusing you are without explanation, Markus.” She said, smiling sheepishly and shaking her head. “Forget Norwegian Special Services. Talking about growing up with a dad teaching you to fight? ... Gods? You talk like you’re actually some Viking from the 1000′s and I’m starting to wonder if some of the crazy stories my parents used to tell about gods and monsters were true.” She said, humourlessly letting out a small laugh.

[writtencraft]

WILLIAM

Dreamlike, William’s feet dragged him to the corner the doctor indicated, stopping only once he’d run himself into one of the chairs. He sat down with a heavy breath, completely ignoring the coffee and indeed anything else. Claire was a fighter, always had been, and there was now a chance that she may make it through this. He knew better than to get his hopes up just yet, but a faint sense of relief flooded through him nonetheless and he let out a long sigh. Whatever had seen him through until just then -a cocktail of adrenaline, stubbornness, and caffeine- faded and had left him feeling more than exhausted. He’d never understood the term bone tired until then, and he hadn’t even done that much, truthfully.

It’d been Roy who did the heavy lifting. William’s initial feelings of failure, of being an insufficient protector, clashed with the realization that Claire may no longer need him in that role. The cognitive dissonance of that thought made his head hurt and he rubbed at his temples before closing his eyes. Claire was his sister, and they were closer than most other siblings he knew. She would always need him, as he would always need her, but…she was not helpless. And she was not alone. It was, perhaps, no longer them against the world. Was that such a bad thing?

He hadn’t realized he was staring unblinkingly at Roy until he spoke, and even then, it took several moments for the meaning of his words to sink in. There’s colour. Claire was indeed holding on. While William had no words for his relief, it was a moment tinted with reminders of his own loss. For him, the world was still just shades of grey and he suspected it always would be. Did one get a second soul mate? Did one’s heart ever mend over the loss of one? He pushed that thought away, along with the throbbing pain of grief that never seemed to leave him, and nodded.

“Thank you,” he breathed at long last, scanning Roy’s face for a moment rather than numbly staring at it. The words were too small for what he wanted to convey. They didn’t capture the gut wrenching panic that had been quelled by Roy’s actions. They were too insignificant for the life debt both he and Claire now owed the fae, yet William knew they were the only words suited for the job. More often than not, William was a man of action rather than words, but there was equally no act he could perform that would repay Roy for what he’d given. So instead, William roused his weary self and managed to set the coffee pot to brewing. Its percolating was oddly loud, one of the only sounds in the basement room, and it was rhythmic enough for William to zone out to until it was finished. He filled two cups, grabbed a handful of individually packaged sugar and creamers, and joined Roy on the floor.

He held out one cup to the fae. “It’s not tea, but it’s warm.” Both shoulders rose in a tired shrug. The doctor puttered about around the operating table in front of them, a blur to William’s unfocused eyes as he checked vitals and muttered to himself. The doctor, too, deserved William’s thanks, but that would have to wait. Just then, he only had the strength to humble himself to one person. He cleared his throat. “You didn’t have to do…” he started, knowing full well Roy felt as though he did, “…thank you. I’ll never forget the decision you made tonight.” William’s gaze was steady then, dark blue eyes intense as he recalled the words he’d said what felt like eons ago.

.

After reassuring William, he'd became quiet once more. The exhaustion hit as the remaining adrenaline faded away where he sat. Roy stared at the ground, finding the bits of colour within the dull grey of the floor. Those light blue-grey eyes of Claires... how he longed to see them. Yet, after what had happened he could no longer bare to look up to where she lay. Now knowing that she was safe, the memory of months alone and months regretting the things he’d said and done to her came crawling back with shame. The decision was felt like instinct rather than decided within his conscious thoughts and it felt like a rock sinking in the pit of his stomach.

William’s voice again. Roy took a breath as he started to look up. He hesitated before silently grasping the offered drink if only to be polite. But it lay untouched within his hands on his lap as the other two men set to fussing about the room and Claire. The decision stood that he had to go, he had to give her the space that he figured she’d been content with. There was no part of Roy that wanted Claire to feel as though she owed him anything for helping to save her life. Or perhaps it was simply a selfish desire to not have to look her in her eyes and hear her voice just to be told to leave again, because he wasn’t sure what would be more painful: to hear those words coming from her or to have to walk away after speaking to her again. 

William spoke again and Roy looked up once more. Silent afterwards as he leaned up against the wall with his hand to carefully get up on stiff legs that still felt like lead. “It wasn’t for you,” he said quietly. “And it wasn’t for me either.” A glance in Claire’s direction which he immediately regret. Roy kept his eyes carefully trained on his former associate afterwards. “I’m not expecting Claire to change her mind just because I came to help her.” His skin still felt cold. And when he tried to summon a bit of warmth to his hands, it was clear that the elemental magic he usually possessed would be dormant for some time while he recovered strength. Or it was gone. He wasn’t sure, nor did he care at the moment. All that meant was Roy would be going directly home and be forced to stay out of work for a bit, which he didn’t mind yet. “I’m going to go. You don’t have to mention I was here; in fact, I’d be grateful if you didn’t.”

[writtencraft]

MARKUS

He wondered idly just how much she was capable of believing without evidence before she wouldn’t believe him about anything at all. Rose didn’t seem satisfied with his (albeit) brief explanation, though she did seem to feel he was still innocent. Or, at least she didn’t seem willing to pin the blame on him just yet. It was a nice feeling, not immediately being thought suspect for any crime one happened to be around, and it gave Rose a few more points in his book. Markus was willing to chalk that up to her generosity of spirit rather than naivete. 

As they pulled over, he let out a little sigh, not exactly thrilled with the prospect of being left alone in the company of local law enforcement. While he’d managed to stay out of major trouble in this city so far, he was never happy to be on the receiving end of “justice.” He glanced back up to Rose, sensing her seeming reluctance, and returned her smile with a roguish wink. “I make no promises,” he said, more out of habit than anything else.

And then they took him away. Markus did his best to appear as the upstanding citizen once they’d begun their questioning. He answered their questions truthfully - if perhaps a bit flippantly - and to the best of his abilities. It was easy, given his innocence, but there was always a balancing act to maintain when one of his kind was involved. The simple fact of the matter was that he couldn’t disclose everything he knew about what had happened. To reveal his own kind in such a way was the highest form of betrayal, and one he had never committed. He wasn’t about to do so now, just because some drunk had been killed and they thought it was him who had done the deed. Relocating and rebuilding  was easier than hiding from his peers the rest of his very long life.

After what felt like at least 20 years, they officers seemed to decide they had all they needed from him and finally let him out of the interrogation room. He wasn’t surprised in the least to see Rose just outside the door, though he was thrilled to see she had food. “Oh, bless your heart,” he enthused, reaching over to take a handful of what turned out to be trail mix. He munched heartily on the stuff, letting his eyes roll exaggeratedly to the back of his head in enjoyment. He waved a hand dismissively, chewing then swallowing.

“I’m not being carried off to jail or some such. I don’t think I made any friends, but they at least seem sick enough of me to let me go.” Broad shoulders rose in a shrug before he dusted off his hands. “Why? Were you worried, princess?” His tone was lighthearted, but her obvious concern for his welfare was…actually a little touching. It’d been a long time since anyone had waited outside a room for him.

.

“Of course I was worried, you idiot,” she muttered. In her soft, calm voice it always seemed strange to people when she blurting out the rare insult. Most of the time, like in the current situation, it was only a way for her to relieve some of her own stress. It was half playfully, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t annoyed Markus had had to put himself in such a situation. Rose grabbed his arm and steered him off with her to exit the building. There were too many people she knew lingered about

Rose thought of the last time she’d seen Markus, the unexpected but pleasant kiss on the rooftop. She thought of the first time they’d met and the unbelievable way he’d been able to get rid of an entire group of mobsters. It hurt her head to wonder who this man truly was. Jonah, the man who had practically raised her and who she trusted more than anyone, would have surely told her to steer clear. Roselyn, however, had never been one to be careful. Like the parents that who had so carelessly lost their life, their daughter had a habit of letting a curious brain and enormous heart rule the survival instincts she should have had.

The moment they were outside it was a back door, a way that most of the police took to get to the parking lot. It was empty at the moment and Rose stopped by the wall to cross her arms and look up at him. Blue eyes scanned him like a hard-to-read book. “You know... I don’t know what sort of people you get with or- or what sorts of situations you like getting yourself into. I know you’re strange and mysterious and definitely lying to me, or at least keeping something from me... but I care about you. You know?” She proclaimed, almost annoyed. “And I’m willing to tell you anything. I don’t invite just anyone to parties with my friends or to dance or... I don’t just kiss random people, Markus. I just... I want you to tell me the truth because you can trust me. I feel like there’s a wall with you and I’m stuck on the wrong side of it.”

[writtencraft]

WILLIAM/CLAIRE

Dr. Stoker muttered a constant stream of words under his breath; William caught snippets of what he was saying, though they passed through him without being retained. “Mmm, no, too long…caused madness last time…..no, someone older.” The doctor’s gaze flitted to William for a moment of consideration before he shook his head and moved to a refrigerator in the corner. From there, he pulled out a drawer full of blood bags and took out 2, which he set on the table next to Claire. He’d already established her IV and moved swiftly to hang up a bag and attach it to her line. William could see that the label read Markus, ~1,000 A.D, stable. 

It was all William could focus on for a moment - the thought that it was technically someone else who would be providing the life his sister so desperately needed. It felt like failure. He took another deep breath of air, a little less of a gasp than the last several, and let it out in a slow stream. Don’t panic. 

“The older blood should jump start things, theoretically,” the doctor said as he cut out the shoulder of Claire’s shirt to see to the task of removing the bullet that may have still been lodged there. His words startled William, but he roused, nodding his comprehension. Of course. A vampire from 1,000 A.D. was bound to have blood full of whatever magic it was that made them the way they were; William was just barely older than Claire herself. It had been his blood that saved her from her mortal death so many years ago, but this…this was beyond the abilities of any big brother. He couldn’t move the heavens for her, no matter how much he would give to do so.

His thoughts were interrupted by the bang of a knock at the door and the sudden appearance of Roy, looking like some ancient fury out of children’s bedtime stories. Dr. Stoker turned with preternatural speed, wielding a scalpel in one hand at the intruder until he saw William shake his head. “You must be the soulmate,” he said, tone making it clear he didn’t appreciate his methods being called insufficient. No matter that Roy was likely correct. He glanced down at the totem in Roy’s hands, studying it for a moment before uttering a soft “Aaaaah…” and stepping over enough to give the man room.

William, however, shared no such moment of enlightenment. He heard Roy’s words without comprehending them, saw the artifacts he’d brought without truly seeing them. The exhaustion of recent events, combined with waning adrenaline and a troubled mind had caught up with him, and he could only nod. Blood trickled down Roy’s hand in slow motion, and William watched him with detached curiosity. The fae was back lit by green light, and with his motions, the weight of deep magic fell over the room. It was almost comforting in its heaviness, the way it seeped into even the corners of the space. With growing awareness, William began to come back to himself, though he couldn’t shake the sort of trance-like state that had filled the basement.

He was standing before he’d realized he’d moved, braced behind Roy as the man began to sway. Only then did the vampire realize what the fae was doing, at least in concept, Roy’s sacrifice reflected in his haggard face. William’s chest tightened out of gratitude. This was truly the greatest thing Roy could offer for anyone, and any doubt that he was truly right for Claire fled William’s mind. William cleared his throat and straightened his posture, still prepared to catch Roy should the man falter. He would gladly take over for him were that needed, and even possible. Unaware of how much time had passed - had time even passed here at all, in the presence of such magic? - William could only watch events unfold, feeling more than a little helpless.

They stood there for seconds that felt like eons, the good doctor bustling about in the background, until a heaving gasp from Claire’s body caused William to jump; the room had been near silent until then. She shuddered once, twice, then fell still, head lolling to the side. Instantly by her side, Dr. Stoker placed his head over her chest and muttered a few quick words, followed by a pleased scoff. He rose and gently laid a hand on Roy’s, suggesting it be moved though not moving it himself.

“There is life in that body yet, boys,” he said, allowing himself a tight smile. “Though you’d best quit before you lose your own, fae,” he added, looking at Roy over the rim of his glasses. As he moved to switch out Claire’s nearly empty blood bag with a fresh one, his expression returned to its serious normalcy. “She is not yet out of the woods, though. If either of you are to be any help, you should sit, rest.” He waved his free hand toward a far corner of the room equipped with a worn coffee table and old, albeit comfortable looking, armchairs. A sort of makeshift waiting room that had seen more than its fair share of guests through anxious hours. A dubious looking coffee maker was perched on a small end table, near a few mugs and a can of Folgers.

“Now…now we wait.”

.

Gone, gone, gone... No. She wasn’t gone.

Roy couldn’t feel his fingers any longer. Coldness had seeped into his bones and everything in his body seemed to be slowing down or giving up except for his heart. Bless the thing - it beat at double it’s natural speed in a last ditch effort to maintain the body that was set to shut down at any moment. It was that heart that kept him strong enough to stand on his two feet and keep his hand on the totem long enough to see and hear that heaving gasp from Claire. Pale and tired but he kept his hand on the totem and maintained the quiet spell. He looked at the doctor instead of stopping, hoping for some indication that she was strong enough - that there was life in her, not just the semblance of it.

‘There is life in that body yet, boys, though you’d best quit before you lose your own, fae.’

Letting out a haggard exhale, Roy did not lift his hand, he merely let it fall weakly to his side. Staggered backwards, his legs shook as he let himself slide down the wall to sit on the floor and gather himself. Immediately he felt his fingers warm up, the blurriness in his mind ebbing away. He could only stare at the bed where Claire still lay as the truth started to settle in. She’d be okay. She had to be okay. She would be okay. The horrible argument they’d had and the months that he’d spent away from her were all but forgotten in that moment. For that moment, nothing else mattered.

He barely heard the doctor’s voice as he said they had to wait. He sat on the cold floor staring up at the bed and realized, for the first time since he let go of the totem, that there was some colour flooding back into his vision. Slowly but surely it expanded from the sides of his vision until it reached the middle. He let out a dry sob when it did, a scoff of air leaving his lips and his body untensing so he bent his back slightly. Too tired for tears, too tired for anything but letting the relief take him as he stared at the ground. “... There’s colour,” Roy breathed out weakly, barely audible. He was only now realizing that William was still there. That the brother of his soulmate would have wanted to know that his little sister was going to wake up.

[writtencraft]

MARKUS

Markus nodded his understanding of her explanation; a statement made sense, at least, even if having to drag him downtown in the back of a police car didn’t. He didn’t like being assumed guilty, and shifted in his seat impatiently. The vampire had had his fair share of brushes with the law, and for once could claim total innocence. Though Rose’s words had him feeling a mite sheepish, even if he couldn’t quite place why, which in turn sent a thrill of irritation through him. Technically, he didn’t really owe her anything, but as friends (they were just friends, right?), there were certain courtesies to observe; she wasn’t entirely wrong. As his gaze flitted to her lips as she spoke, he was reminded of what they’d felt like against his, how warm she’d been on that rooftop. His hands suddenly felt very cold and empty.

Don’t be a dick, he chided himself, sighing inwardly that let himself become attached, she’s just worried.

Only briefly eyeing the cops in the front of the car, Markus cleared his throat. “I told you before princess, Special Forces. Norway.” He shrugged expansively, not telling her more as she’d requested. Truthfully, there wasn’t more he could tell her as it was only partially true to begin with. He’d been relieved when she hadn’t pried further the night of the attack, and was doubly glad now. Whenever it’d come up with others in the last few decades, he’d claimed Norwegian Special Forces - they were elite, discreet, and most records weren’t in English. He had actually spent some time with them before their modern iteration, but there were no records of that at all, English or otherwise, and therefore nothing to prove or disprove his service. It was a tidy, mysterious bundle tied with a pretty, confidential bow.

“You don’t need any training to stab someone, though,” he said, laying his head against the back of the seat. It was almost always what police settled on for cases of exsanguination, in his experience. Small stab wounds were still stab wounds, and humans could comprehend a knife, even if it was a weird one. “Just a weapon and opportunity.” He also had both of those, but thankfully, he’d left his pocket knife at home; there was no telling how they would twist that against him. 

Rose squinted at him, waiting for him to mention anything else. She couldn’t see how it’d be easy to prove Norwegian Special Forces - she’d been hoping there’d been something more recent while he’d been living in the US. The fact there wasn’t something easier for them all to prove with immediate results only seemed to stress her out even more. She sighed, turning away and mentally trying to reassure herself that if he wasn’t lying, then it was still something.

You don’t need any training to stab someone, though, he said. And Rose looked back at him, narrowing her eyes. “That’s not why I asked,” she murmured. Looking at Markus now, Rose had to wonder what it was that made her so keen on keeping him out of trouble. He’d helped protect her, sure, but she still barely knew him. He’d kissed her, sure, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

Instinct told her to believe him. But there were so many confusing emotions and thoughts swirling around inside of her that she wasn’t sure just how reliable that instinct was being at the moment.

They were near the station now. “ --- Rich, can you stop here?” Rose asked, leaning over to speak to the officer that was driving. He scoffed, ‘Yeah, I was just about to say, Rosie…’ He turned a corner near the station and the blonde glanced back at Markus beside her. It was clear from the expression on her face that she was reluctant to leave him and very worried. Light brows were furrowed and her lips pursed into a thin line. “… Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Rose mustered up a small smile, hoping it might calm or reassure him if there was any nerves hidden underneath his strangely calm exterior.

When the car stopped and Rose got out, she gave Markus one last lingering stare before shutting the door. Only minutes later, she had made her way inside the station to wait as they talked to him. A bit of time passed. Rose had nearly begun to pace before the door finally opened and Markus stepped out with the officers. She barely gave him enough time to walk a few steps away from the door when she rushed over to him. “How did it go? Is everything okay?” In her hand was a bag of unopened food. Rose’ nerves had compelled her to compulsively buy the snacks, as if maybe her friend need them after the whole stressful ordeal. It was really her that needed them. Still, she hadn’t touched them as she waited for him.

[writtencraft]

WILLIAM/ CLAIRE

William didn’t look back to see what the fae had chosen to do, certain that he was equally determined to save Claire’s life, if not more so. Roy would be there, of that he was sure; he’d seen how he’d cradled Claire against him. No matter what ill will had passed between Roy and Claire, they were still soulmates. He had to shake his head violently to steer his thoughts away from the darker territory of his own soulmate, that Claire could now be passing like she had. Letting out a long, trembling breath, William punched a phone number into his car’s dashboard computer, pulling into the street as it began to ring. The line picked up, though no response was given, only a quick sniff. “Dr. Stoker,” William said before pausing momentarily, impressed by how level his own voice sounded. 

“Aaah, William. What do you need?” The doctor’s voice was rough, like a smoker’s, and there was some kind of gentle humming in the background that reminded William of a generator.

“My sister is near death, if not already there.” Another pause. Deep breath. They could fix this. Just breathe. “Bullet wound, probably normal rounds…” He provided what information he could as calmly as he could, forcing himself to recall the details of the room and Claire’s assailant; it was like reliving a foggy dream, and he tried to fight the sense of detachment as he sailed around other drivers in his attempt to make it to the doctor’s practice as quickly as possible. The road was a black blur, punctuated by angry horns and bright lights.

Given the way he’d laid Claire in the backseat, William couldn’t see her in the rear view mirror, but he checked compulsively regardless. Some part of him expected her to sit up and ask him to put on some music, or at least talk radio. But she didn’t. His view in the mirror remained empty, and the knot in his stomach grew, even as he approached the distillery by Dr. Stoker’s building. He didn’t realize he’d been anxiously tapping his left foot against the floor until he pulled the car to a screeching halt and had to still himself to turn the car off.

The building was deceptively nondescript, bearing only a simple sign out front that read “B. Stoker, MBBS, MD, PhD. Family practice.” Neatly trimmed hedges lined the small parking lot and surrounded the brown building, lending a sort of understated elegance that helped fend off the undeniably tense air that lingered in the area. William didn’t pay any of this attention as he slammed his door shut and opened the back, attempting to temper his growing urgency with gentleness as he pulled Claire out and into his arms once more.

The front door opened automatically to let him in, and Dr. Stoker himself met William in the lobby. The doctor was dwarfed by the vampire, but had an undeniable air of experience that made up for what he lacked in size. He gave only a cursory glance at Claire’s limp form before gesturing urgently for William to follow behind him, down into the sub-basement where he treated his “special” patients.

“Table, quickly,” the doctor said, shutting the door behind them before rushing to a cabinet full of medical equipment, among other unidentifiable paraphernalia. William complied, gently laying Claire down upon one of the many examiner’s tables. He paused, not breathing, to stare at her in the vain hope that she would move or suddenly wake up. She did neither of these. Her form remained still, paler than usual. William sat down heavily on a stool that Dr. Stoker had pushed behind him, anticipating the man’s need.

“This will not be quick or easy,” he said, moving to stand by Claire’s head as he pulled on a pair of blue medical gloves. “Or perhaps even possible,” he muttered under his breath.

William didn’t seem to hear any of that; his eyes were glazed, directed at his own hands sitting atop his knees. “Her soulmate will be joining us,” he said, sounding a million miles away. The doctor raised a brow at the mention of a soulmate, but made no comment, attention thereafter on his patient.

Come in front door. Take stairs on left down to lowest floor. Knock. He sent the brief text to Roy then dropped his phone on the nearest tray, next to what looked like dental tools. Only then did William allow himself to really breath, and it came in huge, needy gasps. Just the way it had when his father had died; when their mother had dropped a young Claire onto the marble floor, head first; when he’d been tortured by enemy soldiers as a POW; when he’d found Claire, locked away, malnourished and starving for more than just food. It teetered on the edge of hyperventilating, but it was something William could control, and he mustered his formidable will to focus on that one. simple. thing.

Just breathe.

The glass shattered as he flew inside through the window. Regaining human form as he landed on the ground, Roy quickly opened up his phone and checked the text. Stairs. Lowest floor. He didn’t wait for a response as he knocked once, instead forcing the door open himself a second afterwards. Roy ignored any looks from his company as he rushed over to where the doctor was working. He recognized the equipment and the process - a blood transfusion.

But while it was genius and may have be enough for a vampire to regain themselves with a large amount of blood, they couldn’t be sure, not after how long Claire had been gone. It hadn’t been mere seconds but it would surely be mere seconds soon to lose her if he didn’t do what he’d come to do. There was not a single moment of hesitation as Roy drew out the dagger from it’s sheath. “That’s not going to be enough,” Roy said gruffly as the doctor worked. He didn’t bother explaining how he’d gone home to retrieve the dagger and the Celtic totem from his storage of his most rare items, nor what it was used for. It was such a long story and he just didn’t have the time. After William had invited him to come with him, he hoped the man trusted him enough with his sister to know he was doing his absolute best by her.

“It means life,” Roy explained briefly, not looking at William. It was all he gave as explanation as he set the strange crystal down onto the nearest available surface. There was a large symbol etched onto its surface and smaller symbols set around it - ones that were certainly far older and far more unreadable than the large Celtic one. It was an old fae dialect. Roy had spend decades searching for an item similar to the one that the fans had used to take away his abilities, hoping that there was some way to reverse the process. He’d been able to find the item, the one in front of him now. But the crystal had still been no help to him. But this was different. This was no longer about him. This was no longer about getting his magic back. This was about getting his soulmate back.

Roy muttered an incantation as he held up the dagger, watching as similar symbols around it begun to glow softly - bright green. He shallowly slit a wound down his palm and allowed the blood to trickle down over the crystal. As it did, Roy finally found the time to explain more fully. “This will take away some of my magic…” Some of my life, more like, he thought but did not say. “It will help Claire,” Roy concluded, finally meeting William’s eyes. His gaze was steely - nearly daring the other man to counter him or to stop him from doing what he needed to do. 

Roy recalled the last time he’d been through the ritual. The Duskwood fae had only let him grasp onto the crystal for a few minutes before taking it away. Any more time with it, and they would have been taking away life rather than magic. His punishment had not been execution at the time. But it was at that moment in the medical office that Roy decided he’d hold onto the damned thing as long as possible, just as long as he saw something finally stir within Claire. Until a little color flooded back into his world. ( After all, maybe the punishment was long over due. ) This time there was no second totem to transfer his magic and steal it away. Instead, Roy placed his other hand over Claire so it would flow into her. And the immediate feeling that he felt upon touching her almost made him dearly regret his decision. Roy shuddered as he felt the horrible, familiar sinking sensation spread throughout him. The draining, the coldness, the terrible sense of all his energy leaving his body from every inch of his skin and putting every system of his body on high alert - on panic. He closed his eyes and let it happen, not knowing how long he was standing there and muttering the same old fae words over and over again.

His legs threatened to give out from underneath him after some time. Roy had begun to feel incredibly lightheaded. He stumbled, holding onto the table and briefly opening up his eyes when he almost lost his balance, if only to make sure he wasn’t stumbling into anything. His breathing was ragged and he felt cold enough to shiver but he continued to mutter the words he needed for the ritual. The partial reflection on the mirror nearby showed pale-as-death skin and bloodshot eyes on his face. But Roy looked down instead; he looked down to the woman on the medical table. And for the first time in centuries, he prayed to any Gods that were out there - any Gods that would listen. Please, Claire. Please.

[writtencraft]

WILLIAM

It was all William could do to obey something that resembled the rules of the road in his haste. There were people everywhere - in cars, walking, on bikes and motorcycles. Why on earth were there this many people going about their business at 10 pm? More importantly, why were none of them parting the sea and making way for him? Only narrowly avoiding several accidents, the vampire sped through the streets, single-minded in his urgency to find his sister.

She’s okay, she’s okay…they were empty words and convinced him of nothing, but it helped him focus his breathing and his driving so that at least he could be okay enough to be of some use had things gone south. Something primal within him knew he needed to be in that apartment building right now, and even the relatively short drive felt far too long. It took an eternity to reach the landmark–he was certain he’d aged 1,000 years–and he could immediately tell that Roy had beaten him to it. He could hear the angry chatter of birds and other wildlife over the slam of his car door and still-running engine. 

Bounding up the stairs three at a time, his concern that he wouldn’t know which apartment Claire was in vanished. The fae’s trail of destruction was a gory, easy map to follow, and William ran through the hall, heedless of the questionable bits that crunched under his shoes. His nostrils were assaulted by the sharp tang of blood and weapon fire left behind in the massacre, but before he could dwell on that, something that sounded like a roar reverberated from the end of the hall. He felt it in his bones and it stilled his blood, freezing him where he stood for just a heartbeat. There was no cry in return, no answering gunshots, so he approached the room at the end of the hall with caution.

Roy was crouched in the middle of the room, fussing over something on the floor. William winced as he entered, uselessly shielding his face from the UV panels that were scattered around like so much debris. Sunlight. He could already feel himself weakening, if faintly, and suddenly everything clicked. He couldn’t see Claire through the fae, but as he side stepped around him, he knew how the dead men had managed to put his sister to the ground. 

It was a swift, merciless knee to the stomach. All the air left his lungs, and he let his weight fall against the wall behind him, not realizing he’d slid down it into a crouch until he was peering at his sister’s body over the tops of his knees. Once, twice, he tried to produce something that resembled speech, and was glad of the fact that he and Roy had not yet made eye contact. His mind was an incomprehensible blur of a million thoughts, each more dire than the last, and none capable of translation into words. All he know was it all hurt. It took several deep breaths for William to ground himself enough to approach Claire, at which point he moved to her side opposite the fae; he didn’t dream of moving the man, even if he couldn’t yet look him in the face. That was too much, too personal…he didn’t even know what his own face looked like in that moment. He’d never worn loss well.

With careful hands, he tested for heartbeat, pulse, anything, already knowing she wouldn’t have many signs of life as she was among the undead. After the longest 30 seconds of his life, however, he thought he detected the faintest swirl of blood coursing through her frame. Unwilling to believe it was her body shutting down, William allowed himself the faintest of hopes that she was still alive. He let out a shuddering breath and felt a chill come over him as he adjusted his weight slightly. Finally willing himself to look the fae in the eye, he exhaled once more.

“We have a doctor. We have to get her to him. Small practice, on the edge of town, Dr. Stoker’s. Right by the distillery, Elm Street. I’ve got his number.” Feeling as robotic as his speech, William bent to retrieve Claire’s body from the floor. She felt heavier now, but he admitted no weakness as he moved into the hall; she was a weight he would always bear with no complaint.

“Ride with me, meet me there, whichever. We need to go now, regardless,” he called over his shoulder, somehow making a mental note through the blur to send his cleaners to the complex and take care of the mess. If he could focus on the more mundane, routine things right now, he might just be able to make it through this…He didn’t recall going down the stairs or back into the street, but he did recall sliding Claire into the backseat with great reverence before getting into the driver’s seat and ignoring the tremor in his hands.

Never in his life had he felt so hopeless, so powerless and so desperate. The memory of a little boy walking through a field of lifeless corpses - family members - could not compare. They’d been dead long after he’d arrived and he’d left swiftly in an effort of self-preservation against the thing that had killed them. Every once in a while Roy looked back on the memory with a strange sense of confusion... the reality was that he didn’t know whether or not to feel grief for the lives lost, lives that had never truly loved him, or for the life that he’d lost while he’d been among them. 

But here and now, as Roy hunched over the small singular body of Claire Wandesford, he finally understood the dread of what true loss could mean. It meant that his entire body and soul ached to die, to die if it meant that the life he left behind would somehow seep into her’s and free her from this fate. It meant that he could not believe he would ever survive the pain inside every inch of his physical and spiritual being. It meant that the weaker Claire got, the faster Roy felt the meaning and hope slip away from him. 

He cradled her head against his lap, the arm not holding her close was pressing firmly on the wound that continued to spill blood. “You’re not dying,” he said. “You can’t do that. You understand?” He let in a shaky inhale, bending down closer to her. “I have never in my life, Claire, loved anyone... I have never loved anyone before you. Claire. Claire, I would give you my life. I love you.” The words left him like air he never thought he’d be able to expel from choking lungs. Like a desperate prayer, they were the last thing he could hear himself say. When the last drop of colour in the world drained right then and there, he pulled her closer. Roy must have said something then - or made a sound. Had that yell been his own? He didn’t recognize it. He couldn’t even register himself as a physical being any longer because it didn’t matter anymore. There was only the pain. There was only the loss.

When he heard footsteps, it was muffled background noise that didn’t matter - it didn’t even make it to the forefront of his mind. Someone spoke but he didn’t know or care to realize who it was. Roy didn’t react until the other reached in to take her. Roy stiffened and, for just the smallest of seconds, he’d felt a fire light up inside him. It was enough to make him act if someone had dared to try to take her from him. But the moment Roy looked up and recognized William’s face, the real world begun to flood back to his conscious. More than just loss begun to matter and he knew that he couldn’t deny Claire’s brother, not when his face looked the way it did. Roy weakened, watching with a dead expression as she was taken by her brother.

It took him a moment to realize the other spoke about some sort of doctor. Hope. Roy recognized the meaning of the word but it took him another second to remember how it felt and what it meant. And though he didn’t feel much promise yet about whoever it was William spoke about, Roy started to actually think. He stood up, his breathing heavy as he turned to look out of the window. Possibilities swirled in his mind until he felt mechanical - built with one purpose and one purpose only: Claire. Save her.

Somewhere behind him, William left the room. Roy didn’t think twice as he backed away from the window and then flung himself onto the glass to do what had long ago been second nature to him. The window shattered and he started to fall from the precipice. Before he could think about what was happening and what he was doing, a familiar sensation he hadn’t felt in centuries overtook him, just as he’d somehow expected. The fact that the ability had supposedly been taken from him eons ago was temporarily forgotten. There was only a sharp, sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, a prickling feeling beneath his skin and a dizzying blindness before his eye sight had become much clearer and everything was shockingly different all of a sudden. Wings and effort shot him through the sky. All that could be seen from what was once Roy was now a large black raven.

There was no time or energy to rejoice in the fact he’d somehow forced open his dormant ability when he’d tried several times over in the past to no avail. Hundreds of thousands of times over the centuries failed and all it took was this moment to finally have some sort of victory. Unfortunately, it did not feel like one. Nothing would feel like a victory until he had Claire again. So Roy was at his home not a moment later and far faster than he could have ever gone in the car. He shot through a bottom glass window, shattering it to pieces, and landing on his two feet in front of the door he needed. He immediately rushed down the stairs into the basement with only one idea in mind, spurred by what had happened not a second ago. It was as if he’d known he’d have to do this before he’d even known that he knew. 

If the Duskwood fae folk had taken away his ability and used it to power their own magic as punishment, was there any reason he couldn’t do it on himself? Couldn’t his body take it again? Would it matter if it couldn’t? Would it matter if it took centuries to get it back or it never returned again? Would it matter if he died trying? No. Roy would do it without blinking an eye. So perhaps this doctor of William’s had something to offer, but he didn’t trust anyone to try as hard as he would. Roy grasped the utensils in their pouch and pocketed them before swooping up the stairs and out the window once more. He took William’s directions. If enough windows had been broken that evening, another would still be as Roy landed onto the floor of the inside of the building from raven to disheveled, bloody man.

[writtencraft]

MARKUS

Another heavy sigh escaped Markus’ lips. He was long used to being treated with (usually warranted) suspicion by law enforcement, but the repetition did nothing to make it any less annoying. With a rough hand, he reached up to scrub at his face, forcing down the desire to resist their demands and go about his merry way. There were many better things he could be doing with his time than clarifying his innocence, particularly if these were the kinds of cops who wanted to find him guilty regardless.

Resistance was indeed futile, though, so he merely shrugged his jacket back on before finding himself sidetracked by Rose’s petite self sliding into the backseat like it was his DMs. He narrowed blue eyes at her, slightly surprised by her question though he shouldn’t have been. “I wonder if you’ll ever say what I expect you to,” he said, thinking aloud to himself more than asking her a question. Adjusting his jacket so it lay more comfortably over his broad shoulders, the vampire shook his head then met her gaze once more.

“I had nothing to do with this.” For a moment, he had the weirdest sensation of deja vu. This type of call and repeat was something he usually employed when putting a glamour on someone, and he was on the other end of things for that; this was an unusual role reversal. “I was telling the truth when I said I was taking a piss, so I’m not entirely sure why the’re bringing me downtown. Urination isn’t that fascinating. Besides, aren’t there cameras or something they can check?” He jerked his head back to the alley they’d just occupied. It was something of a dive bar, though, and Markus wouldn’t have been surprised if the property outside wasn’t monitored. 

What he found more unsettling, though, was that one of his kind had been at fault for this crime. He’d seen the puncture wounds, the pallor of the victim’s skin. It was more damning evidence against him than the boys in blue could know, even though he was indeed still innocent. At this point, Markus could only hope they kept their interrogation quick. Only 4 hours until sun up; even if he knew they couldn’t hold him without probable cause, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be dicks.

Rose started intently at Markus as she tried to gauge out whether or not he was telling the truth. She wasn’t a detective by any means but she’d seen them at work enough. That, and her basic understanding of Markus’ personality, was enough to make it seem like he wasn’t responsible for the killing - at least to Rose. Markus, after all, seemed far more resigned and annoyed about the whole ordeal than he seemed in anyway nervous or defensive. However, his lack of empathy and appreciation for a murder still made it seem like he was used to things like this happening around him. And knowing what he’d done for her ( and how he’d done it so thoroughly ) at the appearance of the gang last week made him very suspicious. No one accustomed to violence without a history in a job involving it could be all good news. 

“They’ve got to get your official statement down,” she explained quickly. The car was already moving down to the station. Rose knew she only had a few moments to get some basic understanding out of Markus before she had to pretend like she’d never recklessly ( and probably illegally ) jumped into the back of a police car with a suspect. The officers driving were probably listening to every word she was saying too so it wasn’t ideal... but she was desperately nervous. Why?, she thought to herself. She’d only kissed him once. Though perhaps once was all it took to make her feel this painfully vulnerable.

“I’m not the one who’s going to question you over there. Okay? I’m just CSI, I’m not a detective. But you owe me an explanation, Markus. Or something.” She inhaled deeply. “Just tell me this one thing, do you have any history working with law enforcement anywhere? Norway? Another government? Military? Medical, even?” Rose wanted to clarify more - it was clear from her expression she was eager to get everything out in the open. She wanted to let Markus know how much she couldn’t stop thinking and worrying about his relationship with violence ever since the day they’d met. But one quick glance at the front seats and she was well aware her cop friends would be in on every detail she shared. She couldn’t afford to give away what had happened if it might damage the credibility of someone innocent. “Don’t tell me more than that.” She shook her head quickly and it was clear from her expression she was worried. “Not until you have a lawyer.”