A/N: Hi all! So I was looking through my laptop and found the first 8,000 words of what was originally intended as a oneshot Clyrnin set in the future. I've decided to split it into 3 or 4 chapters - in total - so find the first chapter below. Hope you enjoy.

"So let me get this straight," Claire said, more than a touch of disbelief evident in her tone. "Some guy left Morganville thirty years ago to do great things," she continued, making air quote signs with her fingers, "and now you've requested that he return to Morganville?"

Amelie rolled her eyes as she set down her pen. "I believe that the information you have just summarised is basic and relatively obvious, Claire. You should not have needed to repeat my words, if you remain as bright as you were aged eighteen."

A scowl was Claire's only response to Amelie's comment. At thirty four, she wasn't as sharp as her eighteen year old self in some ways, but in others she was much more educated. Having recently reconsidered some of her young self's theories, she was almost ashamed.

"Not only is he slowly going to recall the truth about Morganville, but you want him to work with us in order to bring some of his specialist knowledge to the table?" Claire remained as aghast at the information as she was the night before when Myrnin had told her of Amelie's plans. "So…you want to bring someone who doesn't remember vampires into a vampire's lair with traps and danger lying around every corner, and make him work with someone who is the most difficult person in Morganville? Amelie, you've lost your mind."

"I did not realise you had made the leap from physics to neurology, Miss Danvers," was Amelie's response, her tone icy. "Though you have correctly understood my orders. Mon dieu, I had thought my best scientist had lost the ability to understand words when you requested this meeting. My orders were extremely clear."

Even though Claire knew that Amelie saying she was her best scientist was to butter her up, she couldn't stop her heart swelling a little. Whilst she had left town in the last decade and a half and had done some pretty incredible things, she always ended up returning to learn even more from the greatest scientist around. She was a little bitter that she could never be considered the best whilst Myrnin was in the world but she had gotten over that; it was the price to pay to learn everything.

"Not going to lie, I think it's one of your worst ideas," Claire commented. Something had clicked in her during her last trip away from Morganville—she spent three months in London last year, as her divorce paperwork was filed—and she no longer felt particularly scared of Amelie. It felt ridiculous to be petrified of someone who looked more than a decade younger than herself.

Fleetingly, an expression of shock crossed Amelie's face before she recomposed herself. "I do not particularly care whether you agree with this, Miss Danvers, it shall happen regardless."

Mentally, Claire corrected Amelie to saying Ms Danvers, though she refrained from saying anything. There was something in the way Amelie was gripping the side of the desk which suggested that if she said anything else, she may very well lose her head. Years of close work with the Founder had brought a degree of openness to their relationship, but it was clear Amelie still felt herself superior—despite the fact that Claire knew as many ways to kill Amelie as Amelie knew ways to kill Claire. Possibly more, considering Claire had designed the ventilation system in Amelie's office to allow fresh air in during daylight hours.

"Does Myrnin know? As I don't want to be the one to tell him and it's probably a good idea if he knows before this dude turns up that he has to act normal. It'll probably take him a day or two to process the fact that he can't just drop into conversation comments about your lives back in the day, or whenever kings started beheading their queens on your birthday."

Gracefully, Amelie rose from her seat and made her way towards the bookcase in the far corner of the room. "He is aware and he will be on his best behaviour—or he loses the laboratory he possesses." She picked up a book from the shelf and returned to her seat, sliding it across the desk's glass surface to Claire. "This is a book; you may consider reading it. It discusses Anne Boleyn, the queen—if she can even be called that—killed upon my birthday. It caused an argument between Myrnin and myself which lasted forty years. If you had bothered to pay attention in your classes, you would know this."

Somewhere in the back of Claire's mind, it clicked that Amelie was a Catholic and this Boleyn woman was a reformist; that was proof she had listened in history class—she just hadn't enjoyed it enough to keep in her conscious mind. "Well, if Myrnin doesn't eat the new guy alive, I'll read it from cover to cover. Now, if that's everything, I need to get to the laboratory and finish an experiment before Myrnin takes all the credit."

Amelie didn't say a word so Claire rose and made her way to the door, regretting her six am gym visit as her back twinged with pain.

Just as Claire was about to close the door, Amelie spoke. "I did not say it before, but I will say it now, Claire: you made a good decision opening divorce proceedings against the boy. It's just a shame how it came about."

Claire didn't bother to respond as she half-slammed the door shut behind her.

"Would you mind turning the AC up a touch?" James Dashed, former Morganville resident and returning scientist, asked Eddie the taxi driver as they made their slow journey through the streets of Morganville. It was close and humid, far hotter than the weather in New York, and James was sweating more than he had in years. He'd forgotten about the heat—and the dust—in Morganville. Perhaps he had been able to cope in his youth, but now he was almost sixty, heat tolerance was way in his past.

The taxi driver gave him a funny look and rolled his eyes as he said, "the cab doesn't have air conditioning; we don't waste money on stuff like that down here. If you really feel the need, open your window." His tone was sharp and sullen, and James regretted asking the question.

There was something about this town, something he'd forgotten, and it didn't bring him back good memories. Most of his youth here was a blur, memories lost to the throngs of time, but already some things were clearer than they were the night before. One night in Morganville's dusty (everything here was dusty) motel had reminded him that there was a luscious piece of grass in the centre of town which he had never properly visited, for some reason, and that some shops only opened at night.

The car stopped abruptly next to an alleyway and a fancy looking house which stirred something in the back of James's mind. He soon forgot about it when he discovered how much the taxi fare was.

"Thirty dollars?" he repeated, aghast. "We drove for five minutes tops! Even in New York, they don't rob you as badly as that!"

The taxi driver pressed a button, causing the lock on James's door to click shut. "You're going nowhere till I get my money. Do we need to get the fangs involved?"

There was something strange about what the taxi driver said, and it took a few seconds to process that he said fangs. Why, James had no idea. "Why would you get fangs involved?"

He met the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror and saw a look of irritation flash across his face. "Never mind. You're a tourist, I suppose. I'll give you the fare for twenty if you get out of my cab and never come back."

Though he was puzzled as to why the fare suddenly dropped, James didn't question it. Instead, he handed over his twenty dollar bill, sighing in relief when the car door unlocked. He then stepped out as quickly as possible, small bag in hand, and didn't wave goodbye as the driver sped away before the rear passenger door had even fully closed. All James hoped was that the people he was going to be working with were friendlier than the taxi driver—and the motel worker. Nearly everyone he had come across in his hometown was sullen, and he didn't understand why.

Behind James was a large, white house with a front porch, identical to the photo attached to the instructions he had received through the post three weeks ago. Morganville's mayor had written to him requesting his return to Morganville to work on some world-leading technology—and it was clear he didn't have a choice in the matter. It was as if something in the paper compelled him to return to his hometown.

His intended location, however, did not look as though it housed world-renowned scientists, or even technology from beyond 2000. A small outhouse building lay at the end of an alley which had several fake spiders hanging from its walls; whether this was a joke on behalf of the scientist, Ms Danvers, James didn't know. He just hoped she was sane enough to work with. There was another man, apparently, someone called Myrnin, but the paperwork mentioned nought more than his name. What he would come across was a complete surprise.

James reached the end of the alleyway, reaching a remarkably solid looking door with a strong-looking lock upon it. Evidently, the scientists appreciated their security systems, which gave him more hope than he previously had. However, he was unsure what to do at this point: did he knock on the door, or did he simply walk in and allow his credentials to do the talking?

He was saved from having to make the decision by the door swinging inwards, a young woman suddenly appearing in the doorway. By his reckoning, she looked as though she was in her early thirties, with slight wrinkles just beginning to emerge by her eyes. As he appraised her, he could see her doing the same thing to him, her dark eyes flitting across his body, taking in his appearance and bag.

Before either of them could speak, another voice spoke, the words echoing from wherever the speaker was. "Is it another girl scout, Claire? You know how I feel about their cookies!"

The woman in the doorway rolled her eyes, and James presumed that this must indeed be the Claire Danvers the mayor had discussed. She looked pretty normal and non-eccentric to him, though maybe his eyes were failing him. He was getting on, after all.

"No, it's the scientist Amelie told you about," the woman shouted back, turning her upper half of her body away from James. She then turned back and spoke at a more normal volume, "hi there, I'm Claire Danvers. I presume you're James Dashed?"

James nodded in the affirmative and put his hand out, a move Claire reciprocated. "Indeed I am. Is the other scientist inside?"

"I'd rather have cookies than that man," the voice shouted, causing Claire to wince.

"Sorry about that," she said, taking a step away from the door. "He's a little annoyed that Amelie wanted you to come back; he feels as though she's underestimating his brilliance. Do come in, though. We work downstairs, to prevent any disturbances from the humans around us."

As he entered the outhouse—which was kitted out with remarkably sophisticated security software inside—James was struck once again by an odd choice of words. Ordinarily, one would say people around us; yet the Claire girl said humans. Something was beginning to click that Morganville wasn't as normal as James remembered it—but thinking about that hurt his head. Science was simple; he'd rather stick to that.

Slowly, he descended the stairs after Claire, clinging onto the handrail as he did so. The stairs were rickety and wooden, and he had never been a fan of stairs. Yet the speed and deftness by which Claire descended the stairs was remarkable; evidently, she spent a lot of time here.

"Myrnin, this is James, James, this is Myrnin." Claire did the introductions between the two men, though it was a little difficult considering the other man was sitting under a table. All James could see was that Myrnin had a very strange sense of fashion.

"I'm trying to work out the exact chemical formula we need to multiply matter by one hundred and seven percent, Claire, please don't interrupt me." The voice emanating from the figure under the table was the same as the one which had shouted about cookies merely a minute earlier, yet it seemed colder, as though he didn't want James there.

"I'm sorry," Claire apologised once again, gesturing to an empty lab stool by a different work bench for James to sit on. "He doesn't get on with other people very well." She half-laughed, as though remembering something funny. "I went away to Berg for six weeks about five years ago, and Amelie and I decided that he needed an assistant to help clear up the place whilst I was gone—seriously, some of the things he tries to grow are scary. But before I was even out of town, I got a call from him telling me that he was quitting because Myrnin tried to use him as a test subject for scientific shrinking."

James blanched as Myrnin spoke, the man's voice much warmer than it had been previously. "Claire, my dear, we do not need to scare off the man before he has even had a chance to set his bag upon the table. You must accept that it is no longer just the two of us working together—two has become three, although it is most unexpected."

Although he didn't know anything about the man, James had approximated Myrnin to be a British man in his late sixties—just a bit older than himself. And whilst his image of a tweed suit had been destroyed by the wacky clothing the man under the table was wearing, he felt that there had to be a greying moustache.

He was wrong on almost every account.

The only thing he got right was that the man in charge of this laboratory was British. To James's inexpert ear, he sounded Welsh, but that wasn't really important. More shocking was his appearance: he was young. Myrnin looked as though he was in his twenties, and dressed as eccentrically as though he was a toddler, with bright pink jeans and a floral shirt adorning his body, bunny slippers on his feet and an Edwardian-esque hat upon his head.

It didn't compute to James how someone so young could be so important. When he was young, he was clever—of course he was—but he knew nothing in comparison to what he knew now. That this fellow was younger than even the girl who had met James—and she was young in comparison to himself—was shocking. It just didn't make sense that Myrnin could know more than himself and Claire…unless…

The question slipped out of James's lips before he could stop himself, and he decided to blame his long journey on loosening his tongue and causing his impropriety.

"Where do you get your botox done, and how frequently?"

There was a period of awkward silence lasting approximately ten seconds, during which time both Claire and Myrnin stared at James in horror. This was broken when Claire had fully processed James's words and burst into a peal of laughter, cackling extremely loudly. Despite putting her hand over her mouth, the noise reverberated around the laboratory; evidently, she had found James's question extremely amusing.

James blushed as the laughter continued. He quickly surveyed Myrnin's face and realised that the man was extremely offended by his words; he looked as though he was made of stone, and his hands were balled up. However, there was at least some puzzlement in his expression. Every few seconds, he turned his attention to Claire, as though he didn't understand why she was laughing—he just knew enough to be sure he should be offended.

"I haven't the faintest idea—" Myrnin began, his tone offended. However, before he could continue, Claire intervened, her manic laughter suddenly abating as she rushed in to answer.

"He has biweekly appointments with a doctor downtown who does it on the down low—he doesn't want to expand his cliental beyond the limited few he already has," she said. "You wouldn't think he was in his late forties, would you? She laughed again, but it sounded forced.

It had to be his imagination, but James was convinced that Claire had rushed in to answer the question to prevent Myrnin revealing something—but what? That he really was in his twenties? Or…could he have developed some sort of elixir to keep himself young?

James shook his head; the idea of an elixir was a fantasy, something Hollywood used far too frequently nowadays to ever be believable. Realistically, the explanation had to be very plausible: Myrnin used botox more than he wanted to admit. More than that, James was convinced his eyes were slowly going—it was to be expected, what with his age—and the light in the laboratory wasn't the greatest; it was very likely that he would think Myrnin was older when they were in proper light above ground.

"I apologise if I caused any offence, may we never speak of it again," James said, breaking the silence which had been steadily growing since Claire explained away Myrnin's appearance. "Now, we have wasted enough time. I'm very intrigued to know of the secret work the two of you are doing—your mayor didn't really inform me of what my role would be."

There was a look exchanged between the two scientists James would be working with that made him think that maybe it wasn't their idea to have him join the team. Neither of them seemed particularly enthralled to discuss their secret work, and a period of awkward silence (once again) ensued before Claire opened her mouth.

"A little bit of context is needed first," she said, and James was immediately suspicious. When something needed explaining, it generally meant that it could be construed in a negative way. "You may not remember it, but we have a lot of…accidents here in Morganville. Drivers going the wrong way, kids wandering around abandoned buildings...it means that we need a lot of blood, to make sure that they live."

There was a snort from Myrnin at this point, but as Claire ignored it, James decided to do the same.

"That's why we've been working on ways to multiply one drop of blood into a litre, and to be able to clone the cloned blood—without it losing any of its nutrients. The challenge has been keeping the exact same molecular structure and the quality of the blood as we increase the quantity."

There was a more obvious solution to James, one he quickly voiced. "But what's the point? Scientists have tried for decades to clone blood, and whilst it's possible on a small scale, it just isn't worth it on a mass scale. Why don't you just promote donating blood? It would certainly save time."

Myrnin took a step forwards; the movement was sharp and sudden, and caused James' attention to shift from Claire to him. The other man looked angry, as though James' suggestion wasn't a good one—which it was. Why bother to waste millions of dollars and thousands of hours of time doing something which the human body does for free?

"Do you really think that we are idiotic enough to waste time doing something regular people do if donations could fulfil the requirements?" Myrnin snapped. "I do not know what it is like in New York, but we have a limited number of people here, and their donations only just cover what we use. Do use your brain, Mr Dashed, or I'm afraid that this partnership will have to end, regardless of what Amelie says."

Affronted, James felt his cheeks flushing: a sign that he was both embarrassed and extremely angry. "I understand that the pair of you do not want another person coming in at this stage of your research, and that you feel I am here to steal your glory, yet this is not the case—and I would appreciate it if you treated me with the respect I am giving you. Without meaning to boast, I am a very well decorated researcher, and I have expertise neither of you will have, meaning I can bring something more to the research."

James set his briefcase down on the floor, the thud breaking his rather long spiel into two halves. "You did not ask for me and I did not ask to be here; I was requested, and despite saying no, I was not given the opportunity to resist. Yet I am willing to immerse myself in this task and help the pair of you reach your conclusion that bit faster than you otherwise would. Will you allow me to complete this task without biting my head off every five seconds?"

He wasn't entirely sure, but James was convinced he heard Myrnin say, "I haven't bitten your head off yet, it's too big for that," though he wasn't going to broach the subject. Whilst he was a great scientist apparently, to James Myrnin seemed eccentric and almost as though he strived to appear more insane than he actually was. Though anger had been directed towards him, James had noticed the man's gaze was clear and steady when he looked at his associate—clearer than it was when he knew she was watching him.

However, that wasn't James's business in which to meddle. Perhaps if he knew either of the scientists well he would feel it appropriate to quibble if they were in a secret relationship, but he didn't. He already had the feeling that neither of them wanted his assistance, so perhaps it was wise to not antagonise them further.

Silence ensued for a further minute or so before Claire broke it, her tone seeming friendlier than it had been prior to his outburst. "Well, James, it only seems fair to get you clued in on where we're up to in our research—we can't expect you to make a break through without it, after all! If you're up for it, we can do that now, or we can give you a day or two to readjust to life in Morganville first? I guess there must be a few people you want to catch up with?"

James shrugged, the movement heavy with tension. "Not really. It's strange; I don't remember much of my life before I went off to college. Sure, there are flashes of memories of my parents and my sister, but…I don't really remember anyone's name. It's…fuzzy."

Once again, Claire and Myrnin exchanged a glance which James found difficult to read. It was going to be difficult working with the two of them, he recognised that straight away; he himself had had a partner, once, with whom he shared the same level of understanding. It was more difficult than he had imagined, being the odd one out. However, the fact that they were glancing between one another worried him; how could his fuzzy memory be of concern to the pair of them? They were far too young to have been around when he was, back in the day. Surely they hadn't managed to track down his old school friends—if he had any of them—to have a reunion?

"Evidently, then, you are a loner and have no friends—we may as well begin work now, so that you can return to your office and boring research in Ottawa," Myrnin commented, placing a pair of half-lens spectacles upon the brow of his nose.

"Myrnin!" Claire commented, aghast. She turned to look at James, and it was obvious that she was extremely embarrassed for what her colleague—for it was clear that they were on an equal footing, even if the man would not admit it openly—had said to him. "I'm so sorry, James, he doesn't get out much, and only has one friend. He tends to project himself onto other people; insulting them makes him feel better."

Whether or not Claire was joking by the end wasn't exactly clear to James; however, it did make him feel a little better regarding Myrnin's comment. He had begun to think that the man was accepting his presence—perhaps not. Nonetheless, James was here to do a job; he was not here to make friends with the town's evidently slightly nonsensical scientist.

"It's fine. But if we could move onto the actual science of what you two have done so far, that'd be great. I've spent pretty much three hours in Morganville so far, and it'd be nice to get the chance to change and unpack." James felt he was brisker than he intended to be, once again noting an exchange of glances between Claire and Myrnin.

Do they do anything other than look at one another? James thought to himself, slightly irritated already. It was relatively obvious that they were not in a romantic relationship, yet were very close; it was also almost as obvious that both of them harboured feelings for the other, though he couldn't confirm that based solely on one meeting with the two of them. His lessons in behavioural psychology at college were still with him, and he was pretty sure that within a week he'd be able to read pretty much all of his fellow scientists' body language—something evidently neither of them could do. What remained to be seen was whether or not he could cope with said scientists' body language, if all it did was scream I love you but I haven't told you. He had had to deal with situations like this in Delaware and Nevada, back in the day, and had learnt from the experience of accidentally revealing the three way love-cheats within his staff. This time, he would learn the facts before revealing his knowledge of mutual adoration—if he could cope with viewing their shared body language for that long.

Claire cleared her throat and dashed off in the opposite direction of the door, leaving James with Myrnin. Whilst the young-looking man had actually risen off the floor, he hadn't made any motions to shake James's hand, and he didn't attempt to offer pleasantries to fill the silence left by Claire's departure. Unperturbed, James merely sat down on the bench Claire had gestured to before, putting on his own spectacles, and removing a pen and notepad from his bag.

Opening the notebook, he wrote the date and location at the top of the page, and waited for Claire's return to learn the official title of their research.

Secretly, James was excited. He had been imagining just what it was that this research was going to be—and it didn't disappoint. Whilst a part of him felt it was worthless—the world was never going to run out of blood, after all—he recognised the brilliance behind it; no longer would people die in hospitals because there wasn't enough of a blood type to go around. No longer would there be battles between hospital wards as to who supplied the blood for the patient; there wouldn't be any shortages. No longer would major accidents have the same drain on hospital resources—no longer would people die before they reached the hospital due to bleeds.

No longer would the human race suffer—as much, anyway.

Please leave any comments! Hopefully shouldn't be too long for the next update.