In the hours that they talked, Thrax had grown more and more interested in Malaria. He would not rest until he knew everything about her. She had a smile that made his temperature rise, and her eyes captivated him… He lost focus a couple of times just staring into them.

"So," she inquired, "Detective Thrax, eh? How'd you get into that business?" Thrax sipped his coffee and cleared his throat before speaking. "Well," he said a bit grimly, "I wasn't always a good guy. Actually, I'm surprised that you didn't hear about it." Malaria blinked, not quite sure what he was talking about. Thrax sighed at her response. He sat quietly for a moment, trying to word out what he was trying to say before he said it. He spoke quietly, "I nearly killed Frank. On purpose, I mean." He waited for her to react in horror. Maybe she would hit him… Yes, or scream at the very least. As he closed his eyes, however, he heard no such frantic noise. Malaria just stared at him blankly. "Why would you do something like that?" she asked softly, "For what purpose?"

Thrax was surprised. He had never thought of WHY he would infect Frank, it was just an instinct to him, what he was taught. What his father before him trained him to do. It was in his genetic code. "I…" he said coldly, " I don't know. I was just born to. I'm a dangerous, nasty virus." When he opened his eyes, he discovered they were nose to nose with each other. He saw how beautiful her eyes were, the shade of violet in them glistening with her life force. His claw glowed slightly, as he realized he had become breathless. His lips tingled and longed to crash against hers, yet he was restrained by shock. "No one is born to kill," she cooed, "And a killer wouldn't just go out in the middle of the night and save a girl like me." He could smell her beautiful intoxication as it hypnotized him.

She slowly pulled away, taking her hug to the sink and refilling it with coffee. "I know you're a good guy," Malaria said, "No matter under what species you are. I refuse to believe you didn't want to be good at one point." Thrax looked up. "I did want to be good, actually," he admitted, "That's why I signed up for this job. When I almost… You know… I got pushed into a glass of alcohol. When I got out, I realized I couldn't infect things any more." Malaria turned around to watch him speak. Thrax continued, "When things like that happen to you, some people want revenge. I decided instead that maybe if I did some good, I could erase what I did. And somehow I convinced the city to trust me, though I don't know why they did,"

Malaria smiled, "Maybe they believe in redemption."

Thrax chuckled, "Yeah… Maybe, baby."

After putting dishes and such away in the sink, Thrax drove Malaria to the Police Department to file a report. It was all just basic procedure: her statement, fingerprints, and appointment with a sketch artist. When filling out the last paper, Thrax snatched it right out of Malaria's hands and took out his own red pen. "Place of residence…" he said smoothly, "Antibody Apartment Complex, Floor 5, Room 555..." He looked down at her and smirked. "Got it, baby?" he chuckled. She nodded, making him beam warmly at her. "Good." he said, "And now those jerks will pay for what they did to you."

***OK, more to come soon, this is just what I've got so far! But I'll write some later this week, since I've been sick for the past 2 days. Damn finals stressing… Enjoy! (I hope…)***