I don't own anything


He's aware that she's got her life planned out, that she's known what she wants to do and where she wants to go since she was a small child.

That doesn't mean that he can't do everything in his power to try and make her stay here, even if Amelie lets her leave.

Claire Danvers: he doesn't know if perfection exists – for, in his long existence, he's unable to recollect coming across it – but if it does, she is the human personification of it. She's an angel trapped in human form, graceful and delicate, the pure intentions of her actions perhaps what drew him to her.

After all, when they say opposites attract, they mean it don't they? The devil and the angel, death immortalised alongside the angel, the former trying to ensure the angel falls with every single action he makes.

It's impossible for Myrnin to be able to say that he merely wants to keep her here because it's good for the town, good for Amelie, because it's not the entire truth. He wants to be able to teach her the knowledge she could gain from those at CalTech or MIT himself, for how can he be wrong when he created that knowledge?

He wants her here forever. He wants to be able to smell the sweet, incandescent scent that wafts from her skin when he walks past; he wants to be able to challenge her brains; he wants to be able to have the person who slyly moved to occupy his heart here forevermore because he loves her.

He loves her more than anything in his life, simply because she's still here.

She doesn't belong to him yet, but he knows she will: she will succumb to the pressure inside of her that she continually has to try and keep contained, fall to the lust for this madly, beautifully insane scientist simply because there is no way she can't.

It's in her blood to fall for him, he's sure, and if he believed in fate, he'd throw that into the equation as well because it's just where they have to go.

Yet she wants to leave; she's never going to be wholly happy here as a human incarcerated in the town when she has such potential outside of Morganville.

(She forgets the potential she has here, forgets how happy Myrnin could make her simply because she doesn't realise)

He can't let her leave, no. There isn't a way for him to be able to accept that she can leave Morganville – leave him – forever; he can't accept that he will never be able to see her beautiful skin again.

She can't leave.

And there's merely one solution he comes to: he loves her, he knows she loves him, therefore there's a way to make sure that they'll be able to stay together forever. Then he won't loose her, won't ever be able to live a day without her because they'll be two halves joined together.

The immortality of the devil shared with the fallen angel is something he can't stop fantasising over, can't stop himself wondering if this is the time that she'll be able to accept him if he turns her.

His gaze falls on the delicate, exposed membrane of her neck, moving slightly with the pulsing blood that could all so easily be ceased, her halo shed forever if she accepts it. He could stop her leaving him in an instant, stop her shattering his heart into smithereens that could never be repaired.

She could break him with one word, he's well aware, and yet she has no idea of the power she has over him.

The phone rings and it's MIT again, those three letters making him grind his teeth to try and alleviate his anger as he realises he has to act soon.

He has to end her breathing, be the catalyst to her death – and soon – if he has a chance of holding her heart close to his forever.


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Vicky xx