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. Fortunately, 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.

Lucien heaved an exaggerated sigh and looked at his new "partner" with equal parts amusement and faux pity.

"Oh, my dear Damien," he purred. "didn't I warn you about talking to strangers?"

In a blink, he was behind the officer, one hand around his chest, holding him still, the other over his mouth. He twisted, pulled, and with a sickening POP, the man collapsed, lifeless, his neck broken. Lucien caught him and tossed his body into the nearest chair, where it slumped with its head at an odd angle. Damien stared, wide-eyed. They pushed themself into a sitting position as their fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.

"What the fuck Lucien? I didn't tell him anything! You just fucking killed a man in cold blood!"

Lucien smoothed down his suit jacket and fixed his tie.

"I've done far worse," he promised. "And I understand. You have to test me, that's only natural." I told you I would kill anyone who got in my way, and you had to see if I was all bark and no bite."

Horrified, they stared at the body in the corner, unable to look away. One second that man was alive and talking, and the next...

"You're a monster," they breathed.

"I've also been called far worse." Come now, it's time to go." He came around the bed and rested his hand on Damien's good leg. "Are you going to come willingly, or am I going to have to break this one, too?"

Damien swallowed hard. With shaking hands, they threw back the blanket. They didn't dare snap at Lucien as he helped them sit up on the edge of the bed. Five minutes ago, they might've thought he was bluffing. Now, though, they knew that he was all bite. Lucien took their hand and tried to pull them up.

"Wait, I... They didn't give me any crutches or anything."

"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 found Damien's clothes - what little there were - in a bag near the body. He offered it to them and told them to get dressed, then made his way to the door. Before opening it, he stopped and looked back.

"You." He pointed 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 tried to ignore the bile rising in their throat while they 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.

"What about...?"

They gestured toward the corpse.

"They'll find him when they come to check on you."

Lucien lifted them from the bed and placed them in the wheelchair.

"So, they'll find him and not me. Don't you think they'll know exactly what happened and like... put a bounty on you or something?"

He chuckled.

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

Damn. They were hoping this nightmare was going to have a silver lining. He pulled the blanket from the bed and draped it over their lap to cover their bare legs, then wheeled them out. They wanted nothing more than to scream for help as Lucien pushed them leisurely through the lobby, but they didn't. They sat in silence, so that no one else would get in Lucien's way and meet the same fate as the cop. He bid the man behind the reception desk - who had just replaced the young woman for his shift - a good night, and then they were standing outside of the hospital in the warm summer night air. The valet brought the car around, and it took all of Damien's willpower not to fight back as Lucien loaded them into the passenger seat. Their was a stone in their gut, a lump in their throat, as the car pulled out and away from the hospital and back toward the manor.

"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 Damien found the strength to speak again.

"I didn't tell them anything. The doctors. Or the officer."

"I know," Lucien replied.

They turned toward him, studying his face. He was expressionless, focused on the road in front of him.

"Then why did you kill him?" they asked, voice barely a whisper.

"To remind them who I am. The officer was there because someone recognized me and called the police, but Rumare PD should have known better than to send someone. They're starting to forget, so I reminded them. I don't blame them. Humans have short memories, and my last dealings with them were nearly a hundred years ago. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

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.

"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'd rather not be babied," they mumbled. "I can walk."

He stopped and glanced down at their leg.

"Are you sure about that?"

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 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.