18+ ONLY

He set them down on the edge of a cold, metal operating table and then rummaged through a nearby cupboard for supplies.

"I thought you were taking me to the hospital," they asked, and rubbed their puffy eyes with the sleeves of their still-sodden sweater.

"Yes, but I need to stabilize your leg first or the car ride will be hell."

He pulled up a rolling chair and sat before them to examine the injury.

"Couldn't you just teleport me to the hospital directly?"

"I'm afraid not. I can only blink to locations I can see, or that I am very familiar with, otherwise I might run into - or inside of - something or someone. Now, hold still. This is going to hurt."

He gave them only half a second's notice before he grabbed their leg with both hands and wrenched it roughly back into position. Damien screamed and fell back against the operating table, sobbing. Lucien worked quickly, but every touch was agony. They gripped the edge of the table with both hands, knuckles turning white as pain shot up their leg and their vision began to blur.

"Stay with me, Damien," Lucien said, but his voice sounded so far away.

Darkness crept inward from the edges of the world, dragging them under. They went limp.

"Dammit," Lucien swore under his breath. "Probably for the best," he sighed. "You wouldn't like my driving."

He cleaned the wound as best he could and bound it to keep it from moving around. Blood soaked through the bandage, and there was a lump where the broken bone jutted outward. It wasn't up to his high standards, but it would work well enough until they got to the hospital. He lifted Damien once more and blinked into the garage. He was careful as he tucked them into the passenger seat, handling them like some priceless glass artifact. Once they were buckled in and secure, he strode around to the front of his sleek black car and ducked into the driver's seat. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Still, Damien didn't stir. He hoped they wouldn't, not until after surgery.

This was no leisurely cruise, but a race to the city, and Lucien took the narrow, winding mountain roads with practiced precision. He was the only one who dared to take these roads at breakneck speeds, and it was only because he had a vampire's enhanced senses and reflexes that he had the confidence to do so. Pine trees whizzed by on one side, while a sheer drop promised a chance to meet god on the other. Once down the mountain and on the highway, he pushed the pedal to the floor and spurred on the horses. For most people, Rumare was an hour away, but Lucien usually manged to cut it down to forty-five minutes.

The car slowed as they entered the city. Fortunatelly, the nearest hospital was only ten minutes away. He careened around corners and blasted through yellow lights, until the car finally skid to a halt in front of the hospital. Lucien sprang from the car and tossed the keys to the nearby valet, then removed Damien from the passenger seat as carefully as he'd put them in. He carried them inside and up to the reception desk. The lady behind the computer monitor smiled at first, then saw Damien and frowned.

"They have a badly broken leg," Lucien said before she could speak.

"Oh, goodness, okay."

She scrambled to gather the required forms, spurred into urgency by the tone in his voice and the state Damien was in. They hung limply from Lucien's arms, leg shattered and hastily stabilized, barely clothed, covered in mud, and still wet from the creek.

"Is she passed out, or just sleeping?"

"Passed out, obviously."

He ignored the incorrect pronoun and tried to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"There's some paperwork-"

"I know. I'll handle it," he interrupted her. "Just get them into surgery."

A nurse in soft blue scrubs approached with a smile and a rolling bed.

"I can take them," he said.

He helped get Damien comfortably on the bed.

"Do you need help getting them into a gown?" Lucien asked.

"I don't think so," the nurse assured him as he took a look at Damien's leg.

"Were you at another hospital?" he asked.

"No," Lucien shook his head.

"Did you bind their leg, then?"

He nodded.

"Are you a doctor? It's very well done."

"Not by profession, but I have the schooling," Lucien answered.

There was an edge in his voice that grew sharper the more his patience waned.

"Alright, I'll take them back," the nurse said. "If it's as bad as it looks, they'll need surgery, and Doctor will probably want them to keep them for observation for at least 24 hours-"

"I'll stick around," Lucien said firmly.

"Surgery is going to take a while, and they'll need to recover from anesthesia. They may not be ready for visitors until tomorrow."

"All the same," he insisted.

The nurse hesitated, but decided that arguing was someone else's job and finally left with Damien.

"The paperwork, sir."

The receptionist handed him a clipboard with a few packets of paper clipped to it, and a cheap ballpoint pen. He settled himself in one of the waiting room's many uncomfortable chairs, took a few deep breaths, and tried to relax while he filled in Damien's information. The bright fluorescent lights hurt his sensitive eyes, and the din of the hospital quickly became overstimulating. Lucien was used to the chaos of his night club. The music and people were loud, sure, but it was his music, and the people were having fun. In here, he could hear every beeping heart monitor, every humming machine, every crying mother, every cough, every wheeze, every hushed conversation. He tried to distract himself by wandering the hospital. He read every sign in the waiting room, admired the cheap artwork, flipped through a magazine, browsed the gift shop... He even sat hunched over and counted all the spots and specks in each white floor tile. He hated hospitals, which was why he hadn't decided to pursue a career in medicine, despite knowing everything there was to know about it.

Finally, when there was nothing left to occupy his mind, he made his way outside. He took in a few lungfuls of the evening city air and wrinkled his nose against the stench. He much preferred the forest. The city promised hot asphalt, car exhaust, old fry oil, honking horns, shouting, music from multiple nearby stops overlaying each other, and the buzzing of neon signs. Humans were such a mess.

He shook his head, went back inside, and found the patience to wait just a bit longer. The sky out the window across from him was painted in shades of purple and gold when an announcement came over the intercom, telling guests that visitation was almost over. He checked his watch. 7:45pm. Damien should have been out of surgery and in recovery by now. Even if they weren't awake, someone should have come out to inform Lucien of the procedure's outcome. He rose and made his way to the front desk.

"Excuse me," he greeted the receptionist.

She turned to him with a smile, looking much more tired than she had earlier.

"Do you know if my friend is out of surgery yet?" he inquired politely.

"What's the name?" she asked.

"Damien Cross."

"Damien..." she mumbled as she searched the screen. "Yep, it looks like she's out of surgery and in recovery."

And they hadn't notified him? That didn't bode well.

"Could you tell me what room they're in, please?" he asked as politely as he could manage.

She regarded the screen once more.

"She's in room five-oh-six, but visitation is almost over. You'll have to come back tomorrow. Visitation starts at eight."

He shook his head.

"I'll be quick."

He heard her protesting behind him as he turned, and his long legs carried him to the elevator. He was up and away before anyone else could piss him off. The fifth floor was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be for a vampire. Noises were louder up here where the patients were. Heart monitors, heartbeats, the drip of an IV, the puff of oxygen from a nasal cannula, quiet whispering, soft tears, and some poor family being told that their loved one didn't have much time left. He could hear it all. He'd learned to ignore it, to push it into the background. There was only one heartbeat he was interested in hearing right now, and that was Damien's. He stopped in front of room 506, reached for the door handle, and paused. Someone was talking inside.

"Did he push you?" the voice asked quietly.

It was a man's voice. The doctor, maybe?

"No, I told you." Damien responded. "I fell. I was running through the creek and I didn't see the drop off in front of me."

"But you were running from him."

Damien let out an exasperated sigh

"I just woke up from anesthesia."

"I can come back tomorrow," the voice offered.

Lucien pushed the door open and stepped in. The room was dimly lit by a lamp on the bedside table, and the window was cracked to let in the cool late-evening breeze. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the bright hall lights.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked as he strode up to the bed.

He met the surprised gaze of a cop, not a doctor.

"Lucien-" Damien began, but the officer interrupted.

"You're the one who brought her in?" he asked.

Lucien's eyes darted downward as the officer's hand slid to his holster.

"I brought them in, yes. Honestly, how hard is it to use gender-neutral pronouns. The receptionist got it wrong three times."

"You mind telling me what happened here?" the officer asked.

Lucien shrugged.

"They fell down a steep slope while running through the woods and broke their leg."

"Right..."

Lucien could hear the officer's heart hammering in his chest, see his hand shaking on the holster. He was nervous.

"Is everything alright, officer?" he asked innocently. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm just fine," he answered with a chuckle. "Been a long day, that's all."

He glanced at Damien, then back to Lucien.

"Well," he continued. "If that's all, then I guess there's no reason for me to stick around. It was nice meeting you both."

Lucien offered a little bow as the officer strode to the door. He saw him retrieve his radio from his belt just before the door closed behind him. He shook his head and turned his pale glare on Damien.

"I thought you were going to behave."

"I didn't tell him anything!" they insisted.

"Then why was he in here?"

"I don't know. I had barely woken up when he came in and started asking questions about you."

He thought a moment.

"He recognized me. I imagine the hospital's cameras did, too, and sent an alert to the station." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Annoying."

It didn't surprise Damien that Lucien had a record. What did surprise them was that he didn't seem all that concerned about it.

"Aren't you afraid they're gonna come after you?" they asked.

"They know better," he replied.

Damien's dirty sweater and boxer-briefs were in a bag in the corner.

"Let's get you home," Lucien said as he retrieved them.

"W-wait. The doctor wanted to keep me overnight."

"I can observe you just as well, if not better at home."

He threw back Damien's covers and handed them the clothing.

"Get dressed."

They looked at Lucien, then down at their leg, then back at Lucien.

"They didn't give me any crutches."

"I have some at home you can use."

"Well, I can't exactly walk out of here, and you are not throwing me over your shoulder."

"No?" Lucien smirked. "Do you want to test that?"

"And look like you're kidnapping me? Again?"

He chuckled.

"Alright, alright. There are some wheelchairs in the hall. I'll go grab one."

He stopped at the door and looked back.

"You," he said, pointing at Damien. "Stay."

They gestured to their broken leg, all bound up in a chunky cast, with a look that said, "What, do you think I'm going to jump out the window?" He offered an amused smile before he strode from the room. They sighed and pulled the dirty - and still rather damp - sweater out of the bag. They shrugged it over their head and were trying to get their underwear on over their cast when Lucien returned. They quickly dropped their boxer-briefs and covered themself with their hands.

"Oh, don't be so demure," Lucien said as he pulled the wheelchair up to the bed. "I'm going to see far more than that eventually."

"Thanks for reminding me," Damien mumbled.

"Here, let me help."

He picked up their underwear from the floor and helped them get their bad leg through the proper hole, then turned to give them some privacy while they did the rest. Then, before they could even slide off the bed, Lucien lifted them up bridal style and placed them in the wheelchair.

"I'm not an invalid," they groaned, irritated. "I can do it myself."

Lucien chose not to answer, and Damien couldn't tell if their minor outburst had angered him. He tossed the blanket from the foot of the bed into their lap to cover their bare legs, and then they were on their way out.

"You're really not worried about the cops?" they asked as Lucien stood beside them in the elevator.

"No," he answered. "Like I said, they know better."

"What does that mean?"

"It means they know who I am and what I'm capable of, and they know better than to try and intervene."

"But maybe they'll put a bounty on you or something, and someone else will get involved, like the FBI."

"Is that hopeful thinking?" Lucien asked with a playful smirk.

Damien didn't answer.

"Darling, I've had a bounty on me since I became a vampire. I'm not worried."

They sighed, and the elevator opened with a ding. Damien didn't want to image what Lucien was capable of beyond kidnapping and human experimentation, or what that might mean for them personally. As he wheeled them through the lobby, they were sorely tempted to cry out for help, to kick and scream and beg someone, anyone, to get them away from this maniac. But they didn't. Lucien had warned them against it when he was tending to them in the creek, and it seemed a better idea at this point to remain quiet and do as they were told. If they could get Lucien to trust them and to let his guard down, they might get a chance to escape. He wheeled them out of the hospital and into the warm summer night, where the valet arrived promptly with the car.

"Hey, um... Do you think we could run by my apartment?" they asked as Lucien helped them out of the wheelchair and into the passenger seat. "If I'm going to be staying with you, then I'd like to grab a few things."

"A few things, like your phone and laptop?" he asked.

"Yes. But, not to try and escape! Just to have something to entertain me."

"The ancient manor full of mystery, wonder, and thousands of books isn't enough to entertain you?"

"Well, I mean..."

He laughed, interrupting them.

"I'm only teasing you, darling. Yes, we can go to your apartment, but your phone and laptop aren't there."

"Do you have them?" they asked.

"I do, in fact. I was going to give them to you after lunch, but you took off before I could."

"Oh..."

"I have your drawing tablet, too, as well as some of your favorite books, decorations, and clothes. I was going to give them to you as a show of good faith, but after that daring stunt of yours, I think you'll need to earn them. You can have your clothes, books, and decor, but I'll hold on to the electronics for now."

Damien felt numb. In trying to escape, they had made things worse for themself. But what were they supposed to do? They couldn't have known that Lucien was going to give them their things. For all they knew, they were going to be a prisoner with no access to the outside world at all.

"How do I earn them?" they asked.

"By behaving," Lucien answered flatly. "By showing me that I can trust you not to act like a frightened stray dog."

They tried to subtly wipe a tear that welled over and ran down their cheek, but it was difficult to hide anything from Lucien. He sighed and glanced over at them, and they turned away to fix their gaze out the window. Tall buildings and bright lights thinned, and then faded away, taking with them any hope Damien had of being saved. They spent the ride in silence, until tall pines replaced open fields, and Lucien chuckled.

"Something funny?" they asked with a frown.

"Amusing, yes. And flattering. After one-hundred years, I thought Rumare's police would have forgotten about me. Humans have such short memories, but they're also very good at holding grudges. I should have known I'd be on their wanted list."

Damien allowed a flicker of hope. If his last dealing with humans had been one-hundred years ago and he was still on their wanted list, then that meant they knew he was a vampire, and they might know how to fight him. Maybe humans were more of a threat than Lucien realized, and Damien could find help somewhere. They just had to bide their time. The road narrowed, the trees thickened, and the sun dipped below the horizon. Damien must have dozed off, because they woke to Lucien gently shaking them awake in the garage.

"We're home," he said quietly.

Damien yawned, confused for a moment, then groaned and wiped the sleep from their eyes. The nightmare was still a reality, it seemed.

"Chin up," Lucien smiled at them and came around to help them out of the car.

He hooked his arms beneath their knees and their back, but they pushed him away with a hand to his chest.

"I can walk," they grumbled.

He stopped and glanced down at their leg.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I don't need you to baby me." They pushed him again, and this time he stepped back. "I'll hobble."

Lucien chuckled and shook his head.

"If you insist on doing it yourself, that's fine, but at least let me get you the crutches from the lab. Sit tight. I'll be right back."

Damien didn't sit tight. As Lucien searched for the crutches, they carefully maneuvered their broken leg up and out of the car, then put their weight on the other and used their hands to pull themself free. They hopped out of the way of the door to close it, and managed to make it all the way to the front of the car when Lucien returned.

"You couldn't sit still for five seconds?" he asked.

"I've had a broken ankle before," they told him. "I managed just fine."

"Your broken ankle didn't require a metal rod and pins to keep the bone together," he said as he handed them the crutches.

They pushed them away.

"Damien," he said sternly. "Just because you can manage on your own doesn't mean you have to. Please, use the crutches. I won't help any further."

They glared at him through tired eyes before finally relenting and accepting aid. Lucien had somehow already sized them properly, and he stepped out of the way to allow Damien up the steps out of the garage and into the kitchen. They huffed once back inside. There were a lot of stairs in this house.

"Shall I show you back to your room?" Lucien asked, gesturing with an open hand to the hall.

"I remember where it is," they grumbled.

They were out of practice with crutches, but made their way slowly and surely back up to the top floor suite. Lucien followed, keeping his distance while still making sure he was close enough to catch them if they stumbled.

"I'll leave you now, he said when they finally made it to the bedroom. "I trust you can settle in well enough without my help. Goodnight, Damien."

They shuffled in, stopping just inside the door. The embers in the hearth were still smoldering.

"Wait, Lucien."

He was at their side in an instant, looking down at them with big eyes, much like how a dog looks up at its master while awaiting a new command.

"Will you put out the fire, please?" they asked.

Lucien furrowed his brow.

"You'll freeze up here without it, darling."

The nickname made their eye twitch.

"If you know everything about me, like you said you did at lunch, then you know my parents died in a house fire."

The vampire's expression softened, and he nodded.

"Whatever will help you feel comfortable."

"The walls of my apartment would make me feel comfortable," Damien said under their breath.

"These walls will feel like home soon enough," Lucien promised. "Especially if you take the time to make the space your own. I'll bring in some of your things. I'll help-" he stopped and cleared his throat. "You can decorate tomorrow, if you want. I'll bring in some more blankets, too, in case you get cold."

Damien didn't want to make the space feel like their own. They didn't want to feel comfortable here, they wanted to go home. They crawled into bed while Lucien smothered the fire, and burrowed deep beneath the blankets. They expected to lie there for a while, unable to sleep because of the pain, but as soon as they closed their eyes, they were out like a light. Lucien regarded them with a soft expression before he finally turned to leave. He stopped in the doorway with just his head peeking through.

"Sleep well, my prince," he whispered.