A/N: mkaaay chapter three! :D

"Hey, Rose," said Henry, smiling. "How's the project coming?"

I grunted noncommittally. "How was the oh-so-secret mission?"

"Not so secret." He sighed. "We got ambushed."

I sat up straighter and asked, concerned, "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. No one got badly hurt. Will did get..." Henry gestured, hooking his fingers into claws. "Scratched, though. But he's fine."

"Oh. Well...that's good then." I tapped a pencil against my cheek distractedly, then set it down and picked up the needle by my laptop. I stabbed my finger in a swift motion, wincing, and squeezed a drop of blood onto the square of glass on the left side of the laptop.

"Is that an analyzing slide?" asked Henry, looking over my shoulder.

"Yeah. I couldn't find one lying around so I made one out of a piece of glass and a microchip. It didn't take much tweaking."

He nodded once. "Impressive."

The computer began trying to analyze the sample. It got through the first string of DNA and promptly froze. I sighed and pressed the power button. The screen went black.

"I'm going to take a break," I muttered to Henry. "Stretch my legs and all that jazz."

Then I set my half-asleep legs in the direction of the library.

There was only one book with even a mention of the Source blood, and I plucked it carefully from its shelf. I had just opened it to its first chapter when my eyes were drawn to the grand piano in the corner. I stood hesitantly as music flooded into my brain. I remembered a song, a song someone had played for me before. The name of the song and the person who played it, however, escaped me. I sat down on the bench, lifted the lid, and plunked my index finger down on one key. The note echoed through the library and through my head. I hummed quietly to the song in my mind, and my fingers found the keys of their own accord.

Beautiful song...

Someone had played this for me when I was little. When I was here. The name, what was the name?

"Raindrop Prelude, No. 15."

I jumped, my fingers stilling over the piano keys. "Tesla?"

He ignored me, pulling his hands out of his pockets and seating himself on the bench next to me. He had already set a glass of red wine on the top of the piano, and now he picked it up delicately, taking a brief sip. His fingers splayed out comfortably over the white keys of the piano, and he began to play.

"It shows you haven't been brainwashed by that crap you were playing earlier. I don't know how you can even call that music. It was just noise. Awful."

I stared, transfixed by his hands, his fingers. "This song..."

"It's the same song you were just playing, Rosabel," he said. "Don't look so shocked."

"No, this song..." I looked away from his hands and up at his face. He was smirking, as if he already knew what I was going to say. "I was taught this song ten years ago, the last time I was here in the Sanctuary. I was scared and I was recovering, and I hadn't spoken to anyone. But someone...Someone brought me here and taught me to play that song, and--"

"I know." His smirk grew. "I was the one who taught it to you."

Okay. So maybe he did know what I was going to say.

Wait. WHAT?!

"You taught it to me?" I said incredulously, my mouth dropping.

"Yes." His fingers never stilled, moving skillfully. The song filled the library. He was talented. "You wouldn't talk to anyone, as you previously stated. I found you huddled in a corner. Instead of trying to pry you out, as Helen would undoubtedly have done, I simply sat down at the piano and played. You came to me of your own accord."

I simply stared.

"You were fascinated by the piano," he said, laughing. "Demanded that I teach you. First thing you'd said, and you demanded. Even then you were a brat."

"I'm not a brat--"

"You wouldn't shut up after that. Talked to everyone and everything. Any new creature that Helen brought in this hell-house and you chatted it up. She was starting to think you were really five instead of twelve. You would practice this song for hours, too. Up until God knew what time." He sighed. "I didn't get any sleep after that. I suppose I can only blame myself. It's my fault you grew vocal cords."

"You sarcastic little--"

"Be nice, Rosabel," scolded Nikola teasingly.

I huffed, turning away from him. He stopped playing and poked my side. I convulsed, and whipped around.

"Don't do that!" I shouted, clutching my sides protectively. That bastard, he knew I was ticklish there!

He just laughed at me, drinking more of his wine. "I dearly apologize, Rosabel."

"I'd believe it if you meant it," I grumbled, walking from the bench to the small armchair where I sat with my book. He chuckled and turned back to the piano, and while I read, he played. It was actually a really nice moment...If only it wasn't Nikola Tesla who was playing.

Nikola was on his seventh Chopin song when I finished the book. It hadn't helped much; it was mostly centered on the mythological aspect of Abnormals and contained only one line pertaining to the Source blood. I would need any notes Helen Magnus had taken regarding it if I hoped to get anywhere.

"Finished with your research already?" called Nikola, fingertips dancing unceasingly over key after key.

I didn't reply, just sat quietly in the armchair and watched him play. He glanced at me over his shoulder and smirked comfortably.

"Come over here," he said. "I have a new song I want to teach you."

There was something in his voice that seemed different, gentler, maybe. I fidgeted under his stare, feeling awkward for the first time around him. Immediately I froze. What the hell? Why around him? I didn't like this feeling, I didn't like his tone, and I did not like this whole cushy, comfortable atmosphere. No, no, no. This is not how it went. This was upsetting the natural order of things! No!

He's doing this to mess with me! He's going to lure me into safety and then whoosh! He'll pull the whole thing out from under me!

I stood as calmly as I could, despite my wildly beating heart. His smirk grew a little, strengthening my theory.

"I have work to do, Tesla. And so do you."

Without another word, I left.

A/N: review.