Disclaimer: I do not own or lay claim to the Underworld universe. The original characters, plots, settings, etc. are the property of their original respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I am deeply indebted to Len Wiseman, Kevin Grevioux, Danny McBride and all those involved in the creation of Underworld. The story I tell here of Michael and Selene is of my own invention and not purported or believed to be part of the original canon. This story is for entertainment only, not for financial gain.

"Fanfiction is what literature might look like if it were reinvented from scratch after a nuclear apocalypse by a band of brilliant pop-culture junkies trapped in a sealed bunker. They don't do it for money. That's not what it's about. The writers write it and put it up online just for the satisfaction. They're fans, but they're not silent, couch bound consumers of media. The culture talks to them, and they talk back to the culture in its own language."

Lev Grossman, TIME, July 18, 2011

in thrall

(a) a person in moral or mental servitude

(b) in a state of complete absorption

CHAPTER ONE

"It's over, it's over…" the words spun in her head. Her breath came in ragged sobs and she clenched her fists until her nails pierced her palms. Marcus and William were dead. Viktor, Amelia and Kraven were dead. Lucian, though she had not known he lived until it was too late, was dead. All that she had perhaps once loved, and all that she had held in hatred or fear or had once believed was now gone. A tear, singular and warm, fell onto one closed fist and she glanced down as it slid across her skin. "Oh, God," she thought tiredly, "The sun is rising." Her head spun still faster and a wave of nausea rolled through her. The crunch of steps caused her to turn and she stumbled.

He was alive. Michael was alive.

The heat of the sun touched her hand as she reached for him. The light illuminated the hollows under his eyes and outlined the exhaustion in them. Selene steeled herself for the inevitable searing fire of sunlight upon her skin but still she reached for him. Michael. And immortal though he might now be, years of medical school overrode his thought processes. He covered the distance between himself and the trembling vampire in two strides and gently moved her away from the light, his eyes searching for injury. He pushed her hair back and kissed her cheek, murmuring words of comfort almost without realizing he was doing so.

Selene's lips were moving, but he couldn't quite catch the words. He knew she sensed and heard things on levels unknown to humans. But…was he still human? Was there any shred of humanity left within him? What was this thing he had become? With effort, he attuned himself to sound no mortal alive could hear. "…no pain," his newly awakened ears heard her saying.

"Michael," she said louder. "Look."

Selene was staring at her hands.

It was then he understood.

They stood in a shaft of sunlight; snow began to swirl around them. Michael stared into eyes that had not seen the light of day in six hundred years and was overcome. "Selene," he breathed her name in joy. He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. And for the first time since the night of his accident, his first thoughts were not for Samantha. His grief and his guilt were for once laid aside.

"Selene," he said again. Her stunned tears made dusty tracks though the grime on his chest. She gazed at her hand a moment more and then frowned.

"You were dead, Michael."

"I know, I know. It's alright now."

A smile touched his lips at the sound of her impatient sigh. And though he had known her mere days, already he knew that any admission of need, any admission of weakness angered her. His death had been agonizing for her. She wanted him and she needed him and she was burning with anger because of it. Her anger almost eclipsed the fact that she was standing, exposed to light and had not burst into simultaneous flame.

"We have to leave," she said bluntly, dismissing the moment. "They'll be hunting us."