Note: I find it a travesty how there are so few M-Rated 'Leviathan' fanfics on here. Seeing as how the main characters, Alek and Deryn, are some of the few protagonists in modern YA Fiction that who are not contemptible, I feel like they should have some good fanfictions. Be patient with me folks; the story will get better later.

Chapter 1: Unintentional Blood Trail

Alek walked down the halls of the Leviathan in his pajamas and bare feet. Despite the beasts' current altitude, its' insides were warm and comfy, if not a little smelly. Alek yawned and attempted to flatten his red hair; he couldn't believe he was awake at such an unholy hour of the night. At least nightmares were not to blame; this time it was his roommate, Dylan Sharp.

The great British idiot had taken it into his pea-brain, at some point in the night, to take a late walk and not close the door. Even on a smooth-sailing beastie like the Leviathan, there was still motion and Alek had risen cursing, as the door banged loudly against its' metal frame. Alek was out for blood, now that he was fully alert.

It was so odd not to see the ship bursting with life. At night, everything was quiet and dark, save for the tiny patches of glowworms that gave everything surrounding them a greenish glow. It felt very peaceful.

About a half hour into his search for his missing roommate, Alek began to feel a twinge of guilt. Although he wasn't plagued by nightmares this particular evening, perhaps Dylan was, the poor fellow.

His anger now abated, Alek prepared to return to bed, hopefully to get a few more hours of precious sleep before the sunrise. He was bone-tired every day; his bed was his other best friend.

However, as he turned back toward the bunkers, he heard an unusual sound coming from the area of the bathrooms. It sounded as though someone was showering; why someone would shower at three-thirty a.m. was beyond Alek. Somehow he was sure it was Dylan. Thinking back on their time together, Alek was surprised to note that he had never once seen Dylan going in or out of the shower during the day. This was at odds with what Alek know of Dylan: Dylan, aside from battles or drills, was always the picture of hygiene, clean and well groomed and pretty.

There really were no other words to describe Dylan's pale, elegant face. The boy was pretty.

Alek sighed. Despite his exhaustion and frustration, he was truly worried about Dylan. If his friend was in pain…

Alek followed the sound of the running water to the showering area, and sure enough, it was lit with two lanterns filled with glowworms. Alek bent over slightly and saw a pair of petite cream-colored feet, which he knew to be Dylan's. But something was wrong…

Alek gasped as he saw blood, a great deal of it too, pooling in the water around Dylan's white feet. Not only that, but he could vaguely hear, over the rushing water and the pounding of his own heart, that Dylan was muffling his cries of pain. Alek freaked out.

Had something attacked him? Was he unable to move? What if he was dying from blood loss?

Alek's heart nearly stopped at the thought. Without thinking, he rammed his shoulder into the flimsy wood door that separated him from his best friend. Alek's new muscle was just powerful enough to wrench the old rusted bolt-lock off the door and he nearly slipped on the wet tile.

"DYLAN!"

Dylan screamed and tried to cover himself…or-as Alek noted, as his face drained of color-herself.

Dylan was crouched low to the ground, her long white legs covering her crotch; she was shaking and pale, and her hands were pressed hard over the tiny breasts that swelled awkwardly over her muscled stomach. Her wet blonde hair was streaming all down her face and she looked up pleadingly at Alek. Every other moment, her body gave a twitch and she winced with pain.

Alek felt himself getting soaked to the skin as he stood, his mouth agape.

All this time. His friend, his roommate, his closest ally had been this girl? It was a feeling akin to being kicked in the dick. He felt as though there was no oxygen in his body and at the same time he couldn't breathe.

"Alek! Don't look at me!" Dylan cried, curling further in on herself. She was so thin, he could see her spine through her skin. Weren't women supposed to be full and soft? The only woman he had ever known personally, his mother, was comfortable and curvy. Dylan looked malnourished in comparison. "Don't look at me…" She begged pitifully and Alek melted.

Shock and questioning would have to wait. Right now Dylan, though she was a girl, his friend nonetheless, was scared and in pain and Alek was nothing if not loyal. And chivalrous. Despite the fact that his silk pajama shirt was white and completely soaked from the shower, it was better protection than nothing at all.

Alek unbuttoned the shirt and, in the privacy of his own mind, he was pleased with the new muscle that rippled from his arms to the tops of his pants. Gently he laid the wet garment across Dylan's trembling, pale shoulders.

She looked up at him with her wide, piercing, blue eyes, and they were filled with both pain and thanks. "Alek…"

He crouched down to her level, trying to ignore the thick blood pooling at her feet and the fact that she was still mostly naked. He made a conscious effort to keep his eyes on her pretty face. "Dylan. Are you hurt? Why are you bleeding?"

She looked as though she was about to cry, but before she could respond, the both of them heard the door to the bathroom open. Dylan gasped in horror, any remaining color in her face draining. Heat rose in Alek's chest; so no one else knew Dylan's secret? He was determined to keep it that way.

Before he knew what he was doing, Alek was on his feet, with Dylan crushed in his arms. Anyone from the outside couldn't see her body from where she was hidden against his chest. Alek was in 'prince mode'; no longer was he the inexhaustible mechanic, he was Prince Aleksander of Austria-Hungary with a red-hot temper that matched his fiery hair.

"Who is it?" He asked, in German for good measure. He tried to make his voice sound like ice.

However he was surprised when the voice that answered him also spoke in German: Volger. "Your Highness? Of course. Who else would make all this noise so early in the morning?" Alek felt a stab of indignation. "Why on earth are you bathing so late?" Like he was one to talk; 'Why in blazes was everyone up so early?' Alek wondered to himself.

Alek was glad that Volger could only see the top of his red hair. Showering in silk pajama bottoms would have been difficult to explain. He was getting better at coming up with lies though. "I…had a nightmare. I couldn't sleep and a hot shower seemed like a good remedy."

Volger mulled the reply over for what seemed to be a needlessly long time. Alek felt like his legs were going to give way so he coped by holding Dylan closer to his chest. Their hearts were beating in tandem.

"Very well." Volger replied finally and both Alek and Dylan sighed softly in relief. "After your bath, I hope you are able to have a more peaceful rest." Alek's red-hot anger dimmed; Volger was just worried about him, the good man he was.

"Thank you Count." Alek replied. "You should also rest."

Alek heard the smile on Volger's lips. "You are not the only one who has nightmares Aleksander…"

When the two of them heard Count Volger leave, they were silent and still for a good three minutes, as if they were preparing for someone else to come traipsing back through the door at any second. Dylan gave way first, her knees buckling. Every whimper of pain she had taken care to stifle or suppress while Volger had been present was unleashed in a sharp cry of pain that rocked Alek to his core.

He already had his arms around her but now Alek was making conscious effort to hold all her weight. His face became as red as his hair.

His shirt was draped across her hips to preserve the most private part of her body from his eyes, but her chest was bare…and it was pressed against his arm. It seemed as though all of his nerves had collected on his forearm. She was so…soft.

The rest of her skin was silky smooth, save her hands, and underneath was hard, lean muscle. But her chest was the only exception. It was like velvet, soft and smooth at once but…squishy at the same time. It was probably the only bit of fat Dylan had on her body at all. It was the first time Alek had touched a woman's breast, naked or no, and he found it very hard to breathe in the steamy shower.

With a trembling hand, he slammed the water off and gripped the metal handle for dear life. First things first: Dylan was hurt. Puberty would have to wait.

He attempted and successfully fought the heat in his lower abdomen down to an acceptable smolder. Dylan was still moaning helplessly and clinging to his arm like a lifeline; he stroked her wet blonde hair in a manner he hoped was soothing. Shivers ran down his spine as he saw the blood flow from Dylan's mystery injury had only gotten worse without the water to wash it away.

"Dylan?" He asked in his softest voice possible.

"Alek," She gasped in a pained voice. The fact that he had discovered her secret seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. "Oh Alek…it hurts!" The pain on her face was so acute that Alek felt fear take root in his heart. He felt utterly useless, not being able to take away her pain.

"Dylan, I'm here." He murmured, "I'm here. Hold on a bit longer. We'll get you dressed and back to the room." She nodded weakly.

Alek set her on the small wooden bench in the center of the bathroom, where she curled up into a tight little ball, shaking violently. Alek averted his eyes so he wouldn't accidentally see her chest or any other part of her body.

He was confused though. When he had first walked in the bathroom, he hadn't seen Dylan's clothes folded up on the bench or hung up on the hooks on the wall. Had she come to the bath naked?

However, Alek soon solved the mystery as he passed the trashcan. His stomach sank to his toes as he pulled out Dylan's discarded clothes. Each was stained with big wet circles of her blood.