Disclaimer: I think I'd be scared to own Carmilla, honestly. She just seems like the kind of person who wouldn't like being owned. Except by Laura. Winkyface.


"Why're you so pale?"

"I don't like the sun."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like wrinkles."

"The sun gives you wrinkles?"

"Yes, as does smiling."

"Is that also why you look so grumpy?"

Carmilla surveys the two little inquisitive gnomes people call "children" with disdain. She thought if she stood back by the parking-lot and watched Laura from afar, she could peacefully munch on some baked goods without being hassled. It was not meant to be.

"I have a couple reasons to be grumpy, it seems." Carmilla drawls, taking a bite of a brownie. A very dry brownie. She's regretting the decision to come to this bake sale more and more with each second that ticks by.

"Is it because you don't have a boyfriend or something?"

Carmilla's mouth twitches.

"Let's set her up with our teacher!" One of the girls squeals. "Mr. Collins would love you!"

"I don't know. Maybe he'd like her better with a tan…" The other adds. Carmilla takes a deep breath. Drinking children's blood is never worth it. They drain far too quickly, and she can't even imagine the amount of germs crawling in and out of their filthy pores. Plus, Laura would be pretty upset with her. It'd give her something interesting to report on, however…

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm dating someone already. A girl." Carmilla states, flicking the rest of brownie carelessly to the ground. The children stare at her a moment before one dares to speak.

"Does she still like you even though you're pale and grumpy?"

Carmilla growls and crouches down to their height. "You haven't even seen grumpy, pygmy puff. And I for one like being pale. Not just because of lack of wrinkles, either. You know what else the sun can give you? Cancer. It'll mutate your skin cells, and they'll grow out of control, consuming every part of your tiny, insignificant-"

"Carmilla!"

Carmilla's glare is ripped from the wide-eyed children as Laura jogs over. She gives Carmilla a questioning glance before turning to the kids.

"Hey guys! Can you go over to your class' table? I'm about to swing by to do interviews." Laura requests. One of them blinks at her.

"Can we stand in the shade?" "I don't want cancer!"

Laura gauges them for a moment before shooting Carmilla an incredulous look and turning back to the kids.

"Sure. Wait in the shade. I'll be there in a sec." Laura nods, and shuffles them away with her arms. She rolls her eyes when she looks at Carmilla. "Can't I bring you anywhere without you terrorizing someone?"

"What? Knowledge about the dangers of UV rays is very important. Clearly these teachers are failing in their jobs." Carmilla affirms. "Please tell me you never want kids."

"Maybe we'll see how you do with a kitten first." Laura places her hands on her hips, scrutinizing.

"Cats are a much more enjoyable breed of creature."

"Says the giant black cat." Laura smiles, and Carmilla smirks back. "I'm just going to finish up here. Please try to behave yourself."

"No promises, Cupcake. Speaking of…"

"I'll get you your dozen if and only if you promise not to give any more children nightmares! And the cupcakes are much better than the brownies." Laura wrinkles her nose, clearly familiar with the dry brownies already. Laura may have a sweet tooth, but she has standards, damnit!

"Fine." Carmilla drags the word out in a disgruntled manner as if a begrudging comment from a teenager. Laura chuckles, being reminded how young Carmilla can seem despite being centuries old. She pecks Carmilla on the cheek and power-walks off to the bake sale yet again.

"Wow guys, these look great." Laura observes the sloppily decorated cupcakes. She can tell the frosting was way too runny, and there's no organization to the sprinkles, but she had a chance to try one earlier and they were pretty good. Hopefully Carmilla doesn't mind the lack of proper aesthetics.

"Okay class, let's line up! Miss Hollis is going to ask some questions. If you have an answer, raise your hand and she'll call on you!" The teacher announces. They all gather in more of a clump than a line, although Laura notes the two girls that were talking to Carmilla stay near to the shade.

"Thank you for having me, everybody! Congratulations on having a successful bake sale!" Laura addresses the class. They all cheer in response. "The principal told me you guys have raised almost a thousand dollars for Multiple Sclerosis research! Good job!"

Honestly, it wasn't too much in the grand scheme of things, but every little bit helps. And it means a lot to the kids to know they're making a difference. Laura recognizes that. So she asks them all how they planned it, what each person made, what they learned about in class about MS, and what charity they were donating to.

"I think that this became a school-wide event is so cool! I heard from another class that someone in this class came up with the idea? Are they here?" Laura asks, and suddenly the energy crashes through the pavement. Everyone in the class goes quiet, and Laura doesn't even need her journalist intuition to tell that something's up. She watches as tiny heads turn to the back of the group to look at a little girl, hair covering her face, looking at the floor. Laura starts slowly. "Hey there. Do you want to talk about what inspired the idea?"

The little girl stands still for a moment, and then she bursts out crying and sprints into the school.

"Sasha, wait!" The teacher calls out.

"I'll go get her, Mr. Collins." Another girl, presumably Sasha's friend, offers. Mr. Collins nods.

"Bring the principal with you." He says. The girl nods and scampers off, and Mr. Collins approaches Laura. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's no problem. Um, do you mind if I ask what happened?" Laura inquires. Mr. Collins lets out a deep sigh.

"That's Sasha Suzuki. She… she was the one who came up with the idea. After I taught about it in health class, she pitched the idea to me. But…" He looks up at the school solemnly, the little girl currently tugging the principal through the double doors. "That gas leak yesterday. Her parents were caught in it."

Laura's hand flies up her to mouth with a gasp. She saw a list of the victims. She remembers seeing the name Suzuki. So Sasha's parents were two of the fifteen victims…

"That's so horrible. How is she even at school right now?" Laura gapes. Mr. Collins scratches the back of his head, sorrow prevalent in his expression.

"She didn't want to miss the bake sale. Sasha is… a very compassionate kid. That's why she even came up with this idea. Although, I think now she wishes the bake sale went towards the accident instead." He bows his head. "Such a shame. A gas leak. A freak accident, and now she's lost both her parents."

Laura bites back her tongue and her own tears, and she nods. "I hope she'll be okay." She mutters instead of yelling that it wasn't a gas leak, like she wants to. She looks down at her notes. "I think I have everything. The principal is obviously a little busy now, so make sure to tell her to update me on the final figures? She has my e-mail."

Mr. Collins nods. "Certainly. And thanks for doing this. The kids will be really excited to see themselves in the paper. And I'm sure it'll cheer up Sasha."

"Yeah. Um, it's what I do." Laura forces a smile, and turns to wave at the kids. They all seem to have moved on from Sasha's outburst. She makes her way back to Carmilla, who eyes Laura's hands suspiciously.

"Where are my cupcakes, Cupcake?" Carmilla questions, but she drops the thought when she sees Laura's face. "Whoa, what happened?"

Laura steps close, her arms crossed as she leans in and lowers her voice. "One of those kids – the one who came up with the idea of this whole thing – her parents died in the blast yesterday." She mumbles. Carmilla's face drops.

"Shit."

"She just wanted to help make the world a better place. She's in fourth grade so she's like, what, nine? And now both her parents are gone, just like that. And she's forever going to believe it was a gas leak. A freak accident. She's always going to question, why her? And she'll never know. So cruel." Laura's voice shakes, and Carmilla puts her hands on her girlfriends' arms in an attempt to keep her calm.

"They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes… sometimes these things just happen. Sometimes life is cruel-"

"Her parents are dead." Laura snaps, her eyes boring into Carmilla's. Carmilla nods slowly, silently cursing her tendency to be too blunt.

"I know." Carmilla sighs. "Listen cutie, you're a journalist. You're going to come across some pretty tragic stories. It's inevitable."

"Yeah, but at least I can usually preach the truth about those tragedies. Give them some meaning." Laura glowers. "Not with this, though. Nope. Just have to sweep it under the rug. No ethical crisis there."

"Laura-"

"I know, Carmilla!" Laura exclaims, the emotion finally breaking through the barrier as tears flow down her cheeks. "I know I can't do anything about it. I know it's 'better' keeping humanity in the dark. I know sometimes life just isn't fair. I don't want to hear it right now, okay?"

Carmilla reaches Laura's eye level and nods slowly. "Okay."

Silence hangs in the moment between them until eventually Laura sniffs and wipes her eyes. "Can we just go home?"

"Of course." Carmilla coos, taking Laura's hand. But Laura stops short, her arm tugging a bit from Carmilla's continued motion.

"Wait." Laura sighs. "I forgot your cupcakes."

Carmilla smiles, wiping a tear from Laura's cheek with her thumb.

"That's okay. You're the only cupcake I need." Carmilla kisses Laura's forehead, and then squints past her. "Besides, I can see them from here. They're a travesty to baking everywhere."

Laura laughs in spite of herself, shoving Carmilla slightly.

"Carmilla…"


Author's Notes: Poor Carmilla. No cupcakes, an upset girlfriend, and children making fun of her for being pale. And poor Laura. This is really eating away at her. Wonder if she'll eventually crack? Hmm...

I hope you're enjoying this a little bit at a time. Bear with me. Brace for the usual onslaught of plot and cliffhangers you're used to from me.