AN: This is going to be a bit different. It'll probably dark, and it won't be very long.
He watched her from a distance. Every night, as soon as the sun went down, he went to find her. It never took long. He knew where she was, instinctively. She was living in a cheap rooming house. The building itself was fine, but the neighborhood wasn't. She walked alone at night, either unaware of or unconcerned with the danger she placed herself in. Men whistled; they called out to her. Their eyes roamed over her body. She briskly walked past them, head up, eyes forward. None of them ever touched her, but if they did, he would be there. If they even got too close to her, he would be there. It wouldn't take much to stop them. Injuring them would take require only a fraction of his full strength. If he wanted, he could kill them with even less effort.
He moved silently, blending in with the shadows. She never suspected he was there. As far as she knew, he was dead, frozen at the bottom of the ocean. She saw him sink; she watched his lifeless body slowly drift away. It pained him to let her think he was dead; he wished that wasn't her last memory of him. But he couldn't let her know he was alive. She wouldn't understand, and how could he blame her? It defied all reason. He was alive, and yet, he wasn't. He could walk, talk, and do anything he had been able to do—and more. Only now, he couldn't go out during the day. He didn't have to breathe unless he chose to. He could still eat food, but he didn't bother. What was the point? It didn't sustain him anymore. Only blood could do that.
Sometimes, he got close enough to touch her. Once, he reached out and brushed his hands across her hair, quickly and lightly, so she would think it was just the summer breeze. He didn't have to get very close to smell her. He'd loved the way she smelled before, but now it was intensified. There were times when the urge to go to her was overwhelming. He had to force himself not to take her in his arms. He knew what would happen if he did. There would be questions. And tears. And he would have to life. He would get to kiss her and touch her and bask in her warmth, but before the night ended he would have to leave her. He would have to slip out and leave her wondering where he went and why he abandoned her. The pleasures of another night with her wouldn't be worth breaking her heart. The best thing he could do for her was stay out of sight and protect her.
He didn't know exactly what she did during the day, but he had managed to piece together a rough idea. She worked in a shop downtown. She went in sometime during mid-morning and was there until early evening. She had no close friends. Occasionally, she walked part of the way home with one of the other shop girls. Their conversation was always light and pleasant, but it was never personal. She rarely saw them outside of the walks, and she never saw me. Secretly, he was glad she didn't. This way, it was almost like still getting to be with her.
Cal found her in June. She saw him standing outside her building, looking up at it and frowning in disgust. She turned and hurried back the way she came before he noticed her. He must have been watching her too; he seemed to know her schedule. Jack watched him look around impatiently and check his watch. Finally, he gave up and left. The next night, when he left his house, Jack was waiting.
There was no moon. The night was like a thick blanket; the weak glow of the street lamps couldn't penetrate it. Jack stepped out in front of him. Cal stopped, startled by the sudden intrusion. He could only make out Jack's shape. "Who are you?" he demanded. Jack stepped forward. "What are you doing here?" Cal's tone was harsh, but fear flickered within him. Jack ignored his questions and kept moving. Cal took a step back. "Answer me!" he cried. Jack kept pushing him, step by step, until he was against the wall that surrounded the house. Cal struggled to maintain his composure. Something about this relentless, silent figure chilled him to the core.
Jack put an icy hand around Cal's throat. He gasped. Jack's voice was low; he spoke slowly and deliberately. "Leave her alone," he said. He tightened his grip on Cal's throat. "Don't bother her again. She isn't part of your life anymore. Do you understand?"
Cal fought for hair. He nodded vigorously. Jack relaxed his hand slightly. "Say it," he ordered.
"I—I understand," Cal stammered. "I won't go near her—ever again."
Jack gave his throat a final squeeze. "I'll know if you do," he warned. "And I'll be back." Cal sank to the ground, where a servant found him the next morning.
It was jealousy that did it. He felt himself changing, little by little. The more time passed the easier it was to justify the things he did. At first, he refused to feed on humans, but after a few months he allowed himself the occasional one. He searched for signs that the person he'd chosen was bad, that he wasn't preying on someone innocent. He didn't hurt them. The experience could be as pleasant as he chose to make it. Gradually, he stopped selecting those whom he considered bad people and just chose those that were convenient. The only rule he didn't break was his declaration that he wouldn't feed on women. They had enough things hunting them already, and they reminded him of Rose. What if another vampire was lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on her? It wasn't just human threats he was determined to protect her from.
A year and a half had passed when it happened. She came outside, talking with a man. He was young and handsome; his eyes were bright, his movements energetic. During all that time, Jack had told himself he was doing it all for her. Who would protect her if he didn't? Who would love her if he didn't? In that moment, watching another man—a living man—enjoy her smiles and her attention, he knew he had been doing it all for himself. Rose would move on; she would live her life, but only if he let her, only if he moved on as well. He didn't think about it. He pushed the realization away. It didn't matter, he told himself. It wasn't true. No-one would ever love her the way he did.
He moved heavily, practically stomping his feet. He stayed in the light. In short, he tried to appear human. He pretended not to see her until she said his name. "Jack?" She repeated, moving toward him. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. "Is it you?" She was more beautiful up close; he had forgotten. "Rose," he said, holding out his bands. He heard her heart beating. He felt the blood rushing through her veins when she touched him. She was so warm; had he once been that warm? "It's you," she said. She studied his face. "How can that be?"
He squeezed her hands gently. "I survived," he said.
"I let go of you," she argued. "I saw you—you were—you couldn't have been alive." A blend of quit and horror washed over her. He had still been alive, and she abandoned him. She sent him off into the ocean to drown. "But I was so sure," she said.
"It doesn't matter," he replied, drawing her to him. She gazed up at him in wonder. For the first time, he fully understood how much power he had. He could make her believe anything. All he had to do was hold her gaze and tell her what he wanted her to think. There was no reason for them to ever be apart again. She had seen him; he couldn't vanish into the night, even if he should. But he could change her. He could make her like him, and they could truly be together forever. The temptation was so great. It would be so easy. It wouldn't hurt her a bit; it would be over before she even knew what was happening.
But he couldn't bring himself to do it. What he was doing was already unfair to her, and that would be even worse. He could justify coming back into her life but not taking it, even if he gave her a new one. To even bite her without permission would be wrong. It would be a violation; it would be like raping her.
He cupped her cheek. "Rose," he said sadly. "I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you too." She smiled slightly. It was such an odd meeting, but she was overjoyed nonetheless. He was alive. Jack was alive. She was too happy to notice the differences in him at first. He let her do most of the talking. When she started losing steam, he asked another question to get her going again. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell her the truth, but he doubted she would believe him. She would think he was insane, that he was delusional. She would be afraid of him. If she believed him it would be even worse. She would be horrified. Her love would turn to revulsion. She would recoil from him, afraid of what he might do. He knew it was wrong, but he resolved to tell her as little as possible, at least, for the present. He would tell just enough to satisfy her curiosity.
Rose ran her hands through his hair, down his face, and across his chest. She couldn't stop touching him. It seemed impossible that he could be there, and yet, he was. He was solid. "You're so cold," she said.
"I'm alright," he assured her.
She pressed his hands to her lips. "You shouldn't be this cold," she fretted. He pulled her into his arms. Had she always been this small? Had she always felt so fragile? Or was that another part of it? He brushed her hair away from her face. "I love you," he said sincerely. "Whatever happens, remember that. I'll never hurt you." He kissed her before she could respond.
Rose sank against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him eagerly. He scooped her up and carried her over to the bed.
They undressed each other slowly. Jack caressed every inch of her, first with his hands, and then with his lips. Suddenly, he remembered what it was like to be alive; he felt alive. Because of her. Jack gazed down at her. No-one else could make him feel this way. Desire glittered in her eyes. She wore a trusting smile. Guilt gripped him. He had made an awful mistake. How could he do this to her?
He'd gotten too comfortable with his power. He swore he wouldn't use it on her; he promised himself he wouldn't hypnotize her; he wouldn't lie to her. But that's exactly what he was doing. She trusted him completely. She thought he was still the man she loved. He had to face the fact that he wasn't.
But maybe he could be again, if he tried.
"Rose, I can't do this."
"What? Why not?"
He rolled off of her. "I just can't," he answered. He couldn't stop touching her. His hands moved over her. "Is it me?" she asked in a small voice.
He shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I want you." He pressed his forehead to hers. "I ache for you."
"I'm right here."
"Rose, you have to know the truth. I have to tell you what really happened. I'm not what you think I am."
She pulled away from him. "I don't understand."
"I'm cold," he said. "Right?" She nodded. He was even colder than she originally thought. His skin felt like it had in the water. It was as though no heat were coming from within his body. Tentatively, she pressed a hand to his chest. Fear crept down her spine. He didn't have a heartbeat. That was impossible. He couldn't be alive without one. Her eyes met his. "You're not…" she whispered. "You aren't alive?" He nodded slowly. "What are you then?" she asked. "You're so real, so solid. You can't be a ghost."
"I've watched you this whole time," he explained. "From the shadows. I follow4ed you every night, making sure nothing hurt you."
Rose's mind reeled. Nothing made sense anymore. Finding Jack on the street, out of the blue, after nearly two years, she could accept. It was unlikely but not impossible. She had secretly hoped somehow he had survived, although she told herself not to waste time on it. There had been times when she thought she sensed him. It usually happened when she was walking at night. His presence felt strong, as if he were with her. But she rationalized it as just wishful thinking or as a way to defuse the fear she felt being out alone at night. It was comforting to pretend Jack was watching over her. "You watched me?" she said, incredulously. Part of her was angry. How could he do that? How could he follow her every night for over a year and think there was nothing wrong with that? "You were somewhere behind me every night?"
"Yes. All I did was watch," he said. "I stayed back. I didn't get involved, unless you needed me." It was like a twisted version of a guardian angel. The image of Cal standing outside her building flashed before her eyes. She had been grateful he never returned, but she hadn't thought too deeply about why he hadn't. If he went to the trouble of finding her, why give up so quickly? "Cal," she said. "When he didn't come back, that was you. You made sure he stayed away."
"I didn't kill him," he said. "And believe me, I could've. I scared him; that's all. I told him to leave you alone."
Her voice shook. "So, what are you now? What happened? What changed you?"
"I died," he said quietly. "But I came back. I was brought back. As a vampire." A hysterical laugh was all the response she could manage. "Rose, it's true," he said. "That's what happened. They found me in the water, just barely alive."
"They?"
"Victor and Amelia."
"They have names? Why shouldn't they?" Rose spoke more to herself than to him. "Vampires have names in all the books," she went on. "It's perfectly logical. They—they found you, and they did this?"
"They told me I was too beautiful to die."
"Oh." She laughed again. "Of course. And you've spent the past, what almost two years, living as a vampire? Only going out at night? Drinking blood? Following my every move? That sort of thing?"
"Yes."
Rose tried to convince herself it wasn't happening. She was hallucinating. He was a figment of her imagination. Maybe he had always been. But she knew none of that was true. She looked deep into his eyes. Her anger mingled with fear and confusion, but she still loved him. Whatever had changed, Jack was still in there; she saw him. The man she loved wasn't gone, not entirely. "Why did you tell me?" she asked calmly.
"I had to," he replied. "I couldn't let you think—I couldn't hurt you like that. It's why I stayed away so long."
"Why now? Why come back now?"
Jack took her face in his hands and kissed her. "I couldn't stand seeing you with him," he answered. He held on to her, kissing her until she gasped for air. "I couldn't go the rest of eternity without you," he said. "Even if I can't keep you that long."
Without realizing it, Rose made a decision. "You can keep me," she said. "I must be crazy. But I can't lose you again."
"Rose, you don't understand what this means—"
"I understand what it means. It's better than knowing you're out there, somewhere, while I'm here alone, trying to go on." She settled back against the pillows and pilled him onto her.
…
He tried not to disturb her as he left, but she felt him get out of bed. "Jack?" Her eyes were barely open.
"Go back to sleep," he whispered, tucking the blankets around her. He kissed her cheek. "I'll be back tonight. I promise. As soon as the sun sets, I'll be with you."