Disclaimer: Priest and its characters belong to Scott Stewart.

Claimer: I own Tessa.

Chapter #1: 305

The cities were a harsh transition from the outside world. For those accustomed to sunlight and warm breezes, they would have had a hard time adjusting to the sheltered life in the cities. Thick, ominous clouds of ash hovered in the sky, blocking out any sun from illuminating the streets and buildings. It was a wonder the populace did not die of poisoning from breathing in the cinders, as the ash rained down like black snow, dusting the ground and other surfaces with a sickly powder. The city and its people had abandoned the luxury of color, coming to match its grayish, dismal sky. It seemed that in their desperation to evade the vampires, they had come to live like the bloodsuckers themselves, leaving behind the sun to hide away in the shadows behind the thick city walls.

Amongst the bleak crowd, a young woman seemed to stand out among them. She had just recently taken to the walls, having traveled from the outlands to take refuge in the concrete jungles these people called cities. Her gently tanned skin seemed to stand out amid the almost sickly pale complexions of most of the civilians like a flame in the rain, dark waves flowing down her back and over her shoulders with a gentle bounce. Her eyes were a vibrant hazel-green, scanning her surroundings with an acute awareness as she shuffled through the crowded streets. She had moved into the walls less than three days ago, and at first she had dreaded the bleak atmosphere, but because of the skills she possessed she had managed to snag a job as a nurse in the hospital and rent out an apartment. It was hardly a fairy tale getaway, but it was the only place safe from the vampire menace. She had wondered briefly, as she entered the elevator to her apartment building, how they managed to keep the ash from piling up. Her thoughts were hardly on the world around her at that moment, and because she was currently shuffling around for her key she didn't see the person standing in the middle of the hall in front of the door next to hers.

"Oof!" She was abruptly taken off guard when she bumped full body right into him, and he let out a small grunt as well when their bodies collided. The next thing she knew she was falling clumsily to the hard, ashen floor, wincing as her tailbone throbbed from the impact. "Shoot, I'm sorry!" she apologized hastily. "I wasn't paying attention…" Her words trailed off as she looked up and saw who exactly she had bumped into. The first thing she noticed were the black robes, and then the faded cross tattooed across his forehead….

"I would be the one to crash face-first into a Priest," she muttered.

All she was met with was a blank stare.

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that I'm from the outside. Most people see us as Godless heathens, so that's why I said… oh, nevermind."

"It's fine." Reaching down, he offered her his hand, and she noticed how he seemed a little surprised when she accepted it with a gracious smile. Once she was back on her feet, she dusted her clothes off and looked up at him with friendly eyes, but her smile dropped when she saw he seemed to be in some sort of pain. His facial features were pulled a bit taught, brow creased together in the telltale signs of discomfort, and when she glanced down she saw he had his hand pressed against his side.

"Are you okay…?"

"It's nothing." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key and turned towards the door beside hers, and her face lit up with realization.

"Oh, so you're 304?" Smiling, she nodded behind her. "I'm 305. I was beginning to wonder who my mysterious neighbor was."

He looked at her.

"I just recently moved to the cities," she continued. "I figured it would be safer until the war was over."

He continued to just stare at her for what felt like ten minutes. His eyes were a warm auburn, which probably would have been striking in better light, and he had handsome features. Granted, he appeared a bit worn, but it didn't come as even a slight surprise to her with the kind of work he did. She knew his body was probably littered with scars beneath the thick black clothing from fighting teeth and claw with the vampires, and for a moment she felt compassion for him.

"Why are you talking to me?"

She blinked, eyes shifting back to his face at his sudden question, and then she blushed when she realized she had been staring openly. "What?" she blurted.

But he just shook his head. "Never mind... Excuse me."

She nodded. "Right, sorry. Well, it was nice talking to you." Flashing him a friendly smile, she lifted her hand in a delicate wave. "See you later, stranger."

It wasn't until later that night did she leave her apartment again, intending to make a trip to the market, but as she was passing by 304 something caused her to stop. She didn't know what lead her eyes to shift down to the floor, but when she did she saw something odd. A dark stain was on the floor in front of the door, and before she knew it a small frown was creeping onto her face. Taking a kneel, she lightly touched her fingers to the spot, and when she brought them back up to her view she saw it was a thick, dark liquid that had a red tint to it. It was then she realized it was drying blood that had begun to coagulate. Her eyes widened, as her head snapped up to the door before standing. Remembering her earlier talk with the priest, she recalled how he had seemed to be in some pain, and her inner nurse automatically pushed her to investigate. Lifting her fist, she knocked quietly.

No answer.

"Hello?" She knocked again. "It's 305. Are you okay in there?"

For a long while she received no answer, but just as she was about to knock again she stopped when she heard what sounded like footsteps on the other side of the door. The next moment, it was edging open, and she paused. The heavy robes had been removed, leaving him in just a pair of black pants and long-sleeved black shirt that was slightly tattered at the hems around the neck, wrists, and waistline. Before she could stop herself, her eyes were giving him a quick onceover. As expected, she could tell he was very fit, but that wasn't important right now.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said humbly. "It's just, I saw blood on the floor…" Vaguely, she motioned to the drying bloodstain at her feet, and he glanced there briefly. "Are you injured?" she asked.

"It's nothing serious," he said, in the same soft but gravelly voice. "Got clawed during a hunt, but it's nothing."

"'Nothing' doesn't cause blood to drip small puddles." Eyes shifting down, she nodded to his body. "Show me."

He frowned at her.

"I'm a nurse," she explained. "Just show me."

He hardly seemed willing, but when he saw her unyielding stare he knew there would be no fighting her, and that it would just be easier to get it over with. Glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby, he reached down and lifted the bottom of his shirt just enough to expose the injury on his right side—right where he had been holding it earlier. Nurse mode activated, she took a step closer to inspect the injury. She gently moved the hem of his shirt up a little higher so she could get a clear view of the damage. He had done a makeshift patch job with some gauze and medical tape, and before he could protest she was peeling the tape away and lifting the bandage. The wound looked nasty, three painful-looking lacerations in the form of claw marks carved deep into his flesh. They were red, raw, and still bleeding, and just by looking she could see he could have cleaned it better.

"God, I hate those slimy leeches." She looked up at his face. "You're letting me treat this."

Eyebrows drawing together, he immediately tried to refuse—as expected—but she wasn't having it.

"These are serious, and, as a nurse, I cannot and will not leave them alone knowing they aren't getting proper care."

"Look, I appreciate the concern, but this isn't the first time I've—"

"Either get your ass in my apartment, or I will drag you there myself. You may fight vampires, Priest, but compared to a woman on a mission those brutes are kittens. Believe me."

He quirked an eyebrow at her choice of words. This was not the bubbly, friendly woman he had met earlier that afternoon. Her bright eyes had taken on a firm, determined authority that showed no sign of yielding to his refusals. It wasn't often people went all mother hen on him. In fact, it wasn't often people talked to him period, unless it was one of his brethren or the clergy. He found himself staring down at the woman before him, whose head was level with his chest, as he tried to think of an excuse. Yet in the end, he had folded under her piercing stare, and he found himself silently following her to her apartment a few minutes later.

"Take off your shirt and sit down on the bed," she instructed, and then left to the bathroom to retrieve her first aid kit.

He seemed reluctant, but he did as she said without any verbal complaint. A moment later she was sitting beside him on her bed and inspecting his wounds with careful eyes. With gentle hands, she removed the gauze and medical tape, revealing the claw marks fully. The longest was at least four inches long, and they were about an inch deep each.

"Damn, they got you good." Taking out a swab, she poured some disinfectant on it. "This will sting a bit. Ready?" He nodded, and she gently pressed the swab to his wound. A sharp hiss escaped through his teeth, but other than that he made no complaint. "These are deep. I'm going to stitch you up, okay? You won't have to do anything to them. The stitches will dissolve on their own as the wound heals."

His muscles remained tensed and taught as she carefully stitched him up, being as gentle as possible with the tender flesh. It was amazing to her how still he was able to keep himself. Many of her patients had always complained when being stitched up, but he hardly made a peep the whole time. As she was working, she took the chance to look his upper half over for any other injuries he might have, but aside from a few bruises and old scars there seemed to be none—at least on his torso. As she had predicted, though, his body was littered with scars, some smaller than others. Old and fresh bruises blotched areas of his skin, discoloring the flesh with patches of sickly yellow and purple. It took everything in her not to shake her head as she thought about what he and the others must go through. The lives of priests were hardly happy ones. They spent their early years in training, and then they were thrown into battle without much of a say or choice, where they were expected to fight vampires until one of them was dead. Living celibate lives, they were denied what most people desired more than anything. Even with what they did for the world, they were hardly treated as heroes. She had not missed how people seemed to avoid them in the cities, veering away or shifting their eyes aside whenever they crossed paths in the dank streets. It made no sense to her whatsoever. She didn't understand why people seemed to fear them rather than love them.

"I've had a few encounters with vampires myself," she muttered, as she dabbed some blood from the wound. "Nasty creatures. Actually, if it hadn't been for the priests that showed up, I wouldn't be here right now." She shook her head to herself. "I don't know how you do it. You cut vamps down left and right, and it took me nearly ten minutes to kill just one of the bloody things when it barged into my home. I'll never forget the first time I saw one. I had to be seven at the very most. It was already dead, thankfully. It had been a straggler, and it died when the sun came out." Tossing away a bloodied swab, she picked up another and resumed cleaning off the excess blood, having finally finished stitching him up. "It's a mystery to me. If vampires are considered a soulless creature, how did they come to be, you know? Where did they come from?" It wasn't until a couple minutes later did she realize she was ranting. He hadn't spoken a word, her being the only one talking.

"Sorry. I know I talk a lot." She smiled apologetically. "I must be a mosquito to someone as quiet as you."

"I don't mind. Don't get to talk to many people," he said monotonously.

She eyed him with a knowing stare. "It must be hard. I can't even imagine…"

At long last, his eyes shifted up to meet hers. "At least you seem to recognize what we go through. Most people don't."

"I think it's ridiculous. I've noticed how society seems to avoid the priests, and it's never made a lick of sense to me."

He shrugged slightly. "It's just how it is. We're not like them."

"Oh please, you aren't any different than anyone else. Sure, your abilities are note worthy, but you're still human. Frankly, it's a little insulting. Priests are the only reason any of us are still alive."

He was staring at her, but she was too absorbed in her work to notice, as she shook her head in apparent disgust. "Why are you helping me?" he asked finally.

"Because you needed it. Simple as that," she answered. "I think it's disgusting people can treat our protectors so ignorantly. The only reason they fear you is because of this." Lifting her hand, she gently traced the tattoo on his forehead with her finger. "Perhaps it's too bold of me to say, but I believe that says something about the church. People should look at you and feel security… not fear."

His eyes fell, not saying anything. He was so quiet.

"Okay, that should about do it." She smiled at her work. The wounds were visibly cleaner, stitched, and she had spread a sealant over it to keep any dirt from getting in. She watched as his attention turned down to inspect it for himself, lifting his arm to get a better look as he lightly touched his fingers to the vaguely shiny sealant. "It's a sealant," she explained at his confused expression. "It's like an invisible band aid. Like the stitches, it will dissolve on its own. It's more flexible than bandages or thread stitching, so you should be able to move around easier if you have to fight…"

He looked up at her, and she could see the surprised gratitude through his mostly impassive stare. "Thank you."

With a kind smile, she gave his chin a gentle nick with her finger and stood. While she collected the soiled bandages and swabs and left to put the first aid kit away, he stood and picked up his shirt off the bed. Pulling it over his head, he paused for a moment to glance around her apartment. It wasn't really until then that he noticed she had decorated it with an unusual array of colors. A beautiful oriental curtain hung in front of the only window in the apartment, the dim light from outside filtering in through the translucent fabric. The bed was dressed in similar colors, the comforter a variety of reds, golds, and silver. Against one of the walls sat a large vintage chest, and candles were spread throughout the room on a few small shelves and other flat surfaces. On the walls hung a collection of stunning paintings. One was of a desert landscape, another of a herd of wild stallions, and another of someone's blue eyes. It was a close-up, and for a moment he thought it was a colored photo. They looked solemn and saddened, like two blue pools of pure sorrow. Whoever had painted these had an exceptional eye for detail and emotion, but the one that caught his attention the most was the one hanging above her bed. It was another landscape, but this one had lush green grass, flourishing plant life, and baby blue skies. A river wound through and trailed into the distance like an aqua serpent, and alongside the river stood two creatures he did not recognize. They resembled very thin horses, but their tails were short and stubby, and on had twig-like protrusions coming from its head. They also had white speckles that spotted their coats. Off in the distance were mountains, capped with a white substance that contrasted against the thriving landscape. His head turned when he heard her walking back towards him, and she smiled at him when she saw his look.

"What?" she asked.

"What are those?" he asked, motioning to the creatures in the painting.

Her eyes shifted to it. "They're Fallow Deer." At his blank stare, she elaborated. "It's one of the many species that used to thrive before the war."

"How do you know what they look like?"

"My grandparents taught me a lot about the world we used to have. I've sketched and painted many of the things they've shown me."

His eyebrows shot high on his forehead, the most expression she had seen from him yet. "You painted these…?"

She nodded. "It's hard to buy paint in the city, so I've been mostly sketching. My grandmother gave me art lessons when I was a girl." Looking at him, a smile graced her lips when she saw the disbelief in his eyes. "What about you? What was your life like before the war?"

His eyes fell briefly. "It's hard to remember. I've been with the Church most of my life."

Her smile faltered as she realized her mistake. "I'm sorry…"

But he just shook his head. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."

She was silent for a few seconds, watching him with knowing eyes. Even though he sounded as if he wasn't affected, she could tell he was sad. She could see it in all the priests' eyes. The life was hard, and they had all sacrificed everything to serve the church. They didn't even have names, all of them known simply as "Father" or "Priest". For a moment she had considered asking him his real name, but she doubted he'd tell her. They were all so mysterious.

It was unknown to her what caused her next actions, but she took a couple steps closer to him. A flicker of caution wavered in his stare as her sudden closeness, but she just met his eyes calmly before bringing her arms up around his neck in a warm embrace. She felt his entire body go rigid at the affectionate contact, but she knew it was more out of shock than displeasure. On his part, he didn't know what to think when she hugged him, her face nuzzled into the space between his neck and shoulder, and he was left frozen and not knowing what to do. It took him almost a whole minute before he finally lifted his hands and slowly placed them on her sides a bit awkwardly.

"Why?" he managed to ask.

"We all need a hug every now and then. You just looked like you could use one."

He clearly didn't know what to say, but he didn't push her away. Seeming to sense his awkwardness, she released a small giggle and let go of him briefly to reach down. He felt her gently take his wrists in her hands, and she brought them off her waist to wrap them around behind her before returning her arms around his shoulders.

"Relax. I don't bite."

Very slowly, he settled his arms around her, and without realizing it he felt himself relaxing. His muscles gradually loosened from their tensed state, and he positioned his arms more comfortably around her, one hugging her lower back while the other moved up to hook around her upper. When he felt her gently tighten her hold, he relaxed fully and his eyes slowly slid shut. He didn't know what had come over him, but he found he welcomed the feeling of her arms around his body. It was such a foreign sensation, but it was a pleasant one. For several long minutes they stood together, simply holding each other. He could feel one of her hands slowly trailing up and down his back, her fingertips tracing along his skin through the fabric of his shirt. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so at peace, and with a complete stranger at that. She never uttered a word, simply holding him and soothing him by tracing her fingertips up and down his spine. It was unknown to him how long they remained like that, but when he reluctantly pulled away his eyes were humbled as he stared down at her, not entirely sure what he was feeling.

"See you tomorrow?" she asked softly, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

He nodded, not knowing what to say. It wasn't until he left that he realized he did not know her name, and it hit him that he wanted to. That night had left him utterly mystified and at a loss for words, but for the first time in a long time he wasn't plagued with hellish nightmares, but with images of a land that no longer existed and her kind green eyes.