I know, I'm awesome; you can say it. That's three chapters in one day. WHOOOOOOOOOO! Characters aren't mine blah, blah, blah except for Melanie and the cats and her bests and Garrett. Although, if I could own Godric, I so would.


Day Four

Dance has never really been a 'passion' of mine, per se; sure, it was fun, but it didn't take long after I'd quit to realize that my life's revolving around dance had been a byproduct of my mother's subtle commentary that it would please my father. My father, Adrian Hawthorne, is the son of a Russian ballet dancer named Svetlana Kantenka and an American businessman named Andrew Hawthorne, who'd, apparently, had quite the passion for theater. It had been my father that had enrolled me in dance at three years old, and it had been his memory that forced me to stick with it. Ironically enough, it was my dance career that effectively ended my father and mother's marriage; Adrian had, in fact, met his mistress-turned-wife, Katarina Lemkova, at my dance studio where she worked as an instructor part-time until her modeling gig took off. I think that maybe I always felt that if I stuck with dance maybe my father would notice, maybe he'd love me, maybe he'd even come back, if just to say hello.

None of those things happened. Instead, he'd gotten married to Katarina, helped her take off with her modeling career, and started a new family of little cookie-cutter children that helped him climb the political ladder. Now, he works as the Texas state governor never mind the fact that he and his family only settled in Texas when Katarina befriended a Texas-based on-the-rise fashion designer named Lilian Martellini who wanted to use Katarina as the face of her new campaign so Lilian could climb the ranks of the fashion world. Yeah...that's how these things work. That's also how Adrian Hawthorne II ends up in the same coffee store as me. And, hey, maybe that's not his actual name, but I wouldn't know since I've never met my half-brother. However, he's the spitting image of our father twenty years ago.

I nearly spew my white chocolate mocha all over the barista when my eyes land on the kid, but I swallow hard, ignoring the burn as I force all the liquid down my tight throat and retreat to a table in the far back corner of the Starbucks, keeping my head down on the table. It's like attack of the family. In the last eighteen hours, I've gotten a summons from my mother, an attempt at an outreach from my wayward brother, and now an impromptu appearance of the son of Governor Adrian Hawthorne. Shoot me now. If this is how my day is going, I almost feel the need to call in sick for work at Hotel Camilla; I just don't know if I can survive anymore visits from people in my past...Godric included.

Someone clears their throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut praying a silent prayer that I won't look up and see my half-brother before slowly gazing up into the face of the one person I didn't want to talk to. Fuck my life. I plaster on a smile at the thirteen year old who looks pale and nervous, clutching his small coffee in his hand, "Can I help you?"

My half-brother hesitates, and I raise my eyebrows trying to keep my expression impassive, "Um...um, yeah, I'm Garrett. Garrett Hawthorne."

"Okay," I say with confusion that isn't faked. Why is Garrett here talking to me?

"You're Melanie, right?"

I blink, "Alright, what the hell do you want you little punk?" It's abrupt, it's mean, and I shouldn't be talking. Garrett looks appalled, though whether it's because of my abrupt mood shift or calling him a punk I'm not sure. Honestly if anyone looks like a punk, it's me. I'm the one in my polyester uniform with a couple of tattoos showing, a nose ring, and straightened inky hair that fell to my mid-back but had been twisted up into a bun that I could practically feel falling apart. Garrett, on the other hand, was blonde, tanned, and dressed to the nines in Ralph Lauren...story of my life.

"Look, I'm sorry...it's just...we're just..."

"We're done," I say, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with where this conversation's going. I toss my bag over my shoulder and push past him towards the door, immediately heading in the direction of the hotel.

"Wait!" I hear from behind me, and I sigh, keeping up my fast walk, trying not to draw attention to myself. Someone grabs my elbow, and I slam to a halt, spinning around to see Garrett behind me. He towers over my 5'3" height but still manages to look like the insecure, hesitate thirteen year old boy he actually is. "Please, I really need to talk to you."

"Aren't you a little young to be wandering the streets at this time of night?" I shoot back.

"I'm fine, but...I've just always wanted to meet you."

"Kid, this is getting weird; I've got to go to work," I say, turning to walk away again, though this time he walks with me.

"Look, I know this sounds weird, alright? It's just, my father told us when we were younger that we had siblings, and I've always wanted to find you guys. And I recently looked up my family tree on -"

"For real?" I ask him in exasperation, throwing my hands up in the air. Of course, I think to myself, watch technology betray me. Curse all those background checking, family tree sites. I'd never had any desire to be apart of my father's other family, let alone meet the children and woman he'd left my brother and I for. Sure, I've wanted to talk to my father ask him what they had that we didn't, maybe even have him come visit us, but never the other way around. It's too damn painful, and I've been through more than enough pain.

"For real," the kid assures me while I sigh, "and I found you and your brother online."

"Your point?"

"I've always wanted to meet my sister! Haven't you ever wanted to meet me?"

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" I change the subject.

He doesn't bite.

"You aren't the least bit curious about me? About Annie? about Luke? We're young siblings."

I pause when we reach the outside of Hotel Camilla when it strikes me that this kid found me at Starbucks like he thought I would be there. "How did you find me, personally? Did you look me up?"

"Yes," Garrett confesses, and I sigh, shaking my head.

"Look, Garrett, I don't mean to be harsh-"

"-then don't be-"

"-but I have a brother. You're not my siblings, okay? You're my half-siblings. You're the half of my DNA that split when I was five years old, so sue me for not wanting or caring about the family he left mine for. I don't care, okay? I don't want to meet you. I don't want to meet Annie. I don't want to meet Luke. I just don't. Let it go. Let me go." Garrett frowns, seeming to think this over while I shake my head, glancing up at the darkening sky; if I don't hurry up, I'll be late for work and my boss will have my ass, but I spare Garrett one last glance. "Do you have a ride?"

"No but-"

"Come on," I say, leading him into the building and over to the concierge who grins at me and says hello cheerfully. Alex has been trying to ask me out for months, "Alex, Garrett here needs a ride home, on me."

"I can pay," Garrett says while I wave him off, and Alex nods, calling a taxi company.

"Later kid, be careful after dark, yeah?" I begin walking away.

"Wait! What if I want to get to know you? Melanie!" Garrett calls as I walk away, but I shake my head and carry on, not stopping until I reach the employee room.

Immediately, I slam my back against the wall, sliding to the floor as I resist the urge to cry, but my resistance only leads to me hyperventilating even as tears slip out of the corner of my eyes. My hands are clamped over my mouth so that no one can hear my cross between a sob and a desperate attempt to regain oxygen for my lungs; slowly, my heart steadied, and I let my head fall back against the wall as I fought the tears threatening to spill over. I've fought so long and so hard to control my despair; I've fought my depression and conquered my sorrow, pretending like those feelings didn't even exist for me. I've spent years protecting myself by letting go and cutting ties with the past and the people in my past that I guess I never figured my past would come back to find me. My brother's message had been one thing; we talk every now and then, trying to at least pretend that we're still loving siblings and not that the distance and his new filial piety had come between us. Even my mother isn't as bad since she calls every now and then when her guilty conscience rears its ugly head and she realizes she's lonely and drove away both her children with her behavior. But Garrett, the relic from my past, the living, breathing monument to my family's betrayal and splinter couldn't have been a more terrible way to end a terrible day. I didn't know where to go with those feelings of hurt and anger and betrayal that warred with an almost natural urge to love and protect and know someone who shared DNA with me. Someone whose father had told him I exist but yet knows nothing about me, not even that I'm dying because he left me to create Garrett and Annie and Luke as though I had never even been there. Besides, even if I wanted to know Garrett-which I so don't-why would I even put forth the chance of letting him get attached to me when I'd be gone in six months.

"Yo, Lanie, you in here?" I hear somebody call.

And, I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together, wiping my cheeks with my sleeve and thanking God that I chose not to wear make-up to work before getting to my feet and itching my wrist. The need to cut, to forget rising to the surface and pressing against me. I almost want Godric to track me down so I can get my razor back; it's the razor I've always used since I was twelve, and I've never used another it's both sentimental and necessary for me.

"Yeah," I say calmly, "I'm here." I walk towards the other with a smile to see Janice, Wendy, and Moira talking amicably together in their uniforms, and I give them a forced smile, "What team am I on?"

Janice and I work together with her playing her scenario game as we work, and, unlike usual, I remain silent and stoic as we move from room to room. I can tell that she knows there's something wrong, and when we take our break, she opens her mouth to ask, but I move quickly saying a sudden goodbye before darting out of the employee room and to the roof of the building where I curl up in the same spot, my head tilted back against the wall while my eyes remain looking up at the night sky, breathing in the cool air as I fight to control myself.

Someone sits down beside me, and I flinch at the sudden appearance, turning my head to see Godric-pale with his short chocolate brown hair and customary white cotton ensemble-with his green eyes also raised to the sky, studying them impassively. I take a deep breath, "I need my razor back." He doesn't answer as he shifts his gaze from the night sky to me, and I continue. "Please, I need it back."

"No, you don't." He finally says.

"You don't understand-" I begin hastily.

"No?" Godric asks, "Is meeting the sun all that different?"

I scowl at the comparison, "I'm not trying to off myself."

"Then what do you believe you're doing?"

Hesitating, I look at him to see that he's genuinely interested, "Distracting myself." It's an honest answer, and not one that I've ever really shared before. I never thought I'd be sitting on a rooftop of a vampire hotel discussing my tendencies towards self harm with vampire Ghandi.

"From?"

"Life," I reply simply.

"I thought life was beautiful," Godric remarks wryly.

Glaring at him, I cross my arms over my chest, "It is! Mostly. But sometimes it's not so beautiful; it has ugly parts too. Sometimes, I don't want to remember the ugly parts, but only for a little while, I don't want to jump off the nearest building or become a human bonfire. I just want...I don't know, to not be in my own head for a little while."

"And cutting yourself does this for you? Truly?" Godric asks.

I shrug, "It used to."

"But not anymore," Godric says out loud.

"Life's not as easy as it used to be," I muse. "I haven't actually been cutting since some suicidal vampire bastard stole my razor, but I've been getting the cravings a lot more than I used to."

"You cut every time you crave it?" Godric looks down at me softly, "That cannot be good for you. It cannot be healthy."

"Leave it alone, okay!" I snap at him, getting to my feet and crossing my arms as I stare out at the Dallas shrouded in night. "You don't know the first thing about it. It's only ever been a couple times a week."

"Perhaps you should learn to ignore your cravings. Giving in to what you crave can cause harm." I would know, he says in unspoken words.

I whirl around to glare at him, only to find him on his feet, looking at me, "I'm not a vampire, okay? Just because I cut every time I feel the need to doesn't mean it's gonna kill anybody! Who's it really gonna hurt?"

"You," He says, calmly, taking my yelling in stride. "It could harm you."

"I'm careful, and I'm too cautious to hurt myself. I want to live," I say, practically choking on the words as I whirl around to look over Dallas, blinking away tears.

"I know," Godric agrees, running over to stand beside me. "You're a fighter."

I laugh humorlessly, "Yes. That's what my grandmother always said."

"And what would she say if she knew about this?"

"God," I yell in exasperation. "What the hell do you want from me? It doesn't matter, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? It's like a drug to me. I don't care who it hurts, and I don't care that I could get hurt. I want to cut. And I need to cut. Okay? Because when my life is out of control it's all I've got, goddamn it. Just give me back my fucking razor and leave me the hell alone!"

"What could be so bad that you need physical pain to detract from it?" I can tell that the question is genuine and sincere. He doesn't say it condescendingly or with doubt like most people would. His tone is heavy with interest and curiosity not with an undertone of 'what could be so bad in the life of an eighteen year old little girl that could force herself to desire pain and be distracted?' It doesn't matter though, because I react like that's exactly what he'd said.

"Are you serious? What the hell do you really know about me? What the hell does anybody really know about me? You want to know what's so bad? My dumbass brother who basically abandoned me to live with my crazy ass mother and her string of boy-toys so that he could start a family with his bitchy high school sweetheart who got knocked up on purpose and then insisted they move to Louisiana to be closer with her family, pretending like he didn't just abandon me just like our fucking father. Then there's my mother who's so caught up in her own little world that she doesn't even remember I exist until she feels the need to share aspects of her day and great things that happen to her. I'm the child. She shouldn't treat me as her freaking therapist or best buddy. She's my mother, and she only calls me to talk about her. She can't even remember what little things about me I've told her specifically!

"Then there's my goddamn absentee father who split when I was five with his mistress that he fucked at the dance studio where-and while-I was dancing," I shake my head, wiping furious tears from my cheeks. "He never came back. He never called us. He never sent either of us a fucking birthday card, even! That asshole told us it's was for the best, that he'd always be there for us because he was our father, you know? But I never saw him again, but he told his fucking cookie-cutter, second family about us, and his son-my half brother-tracked me down and wants a relationship with me! How the fuck do I even begin to deal with this? How do I look at him and not see the living, breathing reason my father abandoned me and basically splintered my whole life, basically forced me to wave goodbye to my childhood." I force myself to breath and let a hand rest on the hollow between my shoulder and my neck, rubbing back and forth as it shook, "I feel like I'm drowning, okay? I'm too goddamned young to have to be a fucking grown-up all the time."

Godric moves in front of me and places a hand on my shoulder, and I wipe the tears from my eyes again before looking up and meeting his eyes, "It's alright, child."

I laugh quietly and wipe the tears from my eyes, "I'm not a child. I'm eighteen, a legal adult."

"I'm over 2000 years old; you are an infant in my eyes." He says to me honestly.

Shaking my head, I smile slightly as I look up at the ancient vampire, "As long as you don't like make me drink baby formula or try to change my diaper, I'm cool with that."

Godric remains silent for a moment before saying, "I've never changed a diaper."

It's such an outrageous statement that I pause for a moment before barking out a laugh. "You're two thousand years old and you've never changed a diaper? That's just...sad," I manage to say before I continue to laugh, tears coming from my eyes.

"Diapers weren't around when I was human, anyway," Godric says.

I grin and wipe the tears from my eyes, "What? No Pampers in like 8 B.C.? Curse my fifth my grade teacher, that bitch lied to me." Godric's lips twitch, and I pause before tilting my head at him, "You can smile, you know. I won't tell anybody."

This time he does smile as I sigh and adjust my bun, putting my hands in my pocket, knowing I need to get back to work. He tilts his head and studies me, "How do you feel?"

I take a deep breath and look at him before smiling, "Better."

Godric nods, "I am not giving you the razor."

"Come on!" I whine while Godric shakes his head.

"You wouldn't let me meet the sun, I won't let you cut."

"Not the same thing!" I argue. Godric just looks at me, and I sigh in exasperation, "What are you going to do? Walk outside and go up in flames if I disagree and cut myself?" Godric says nothing, continuing to look at me with amusement flickering in the back of his eyes, and I meet them, really thinking about this. I want to call his bluff, but a few conversations with a stranger on life doesn't automatically and permanently alter your perspective on life just like how just because he managed to drive away my immediate desire to cut didn't mean it wouldn't come back. Maybe three days-or nights, whatever-ago, I might have shrugged my shoulders, demanded he give me back my razor, and called it a day, but now, after talking to him and talking to Ajax and feeling like I dropped fifty pounds of stress just by having him provoke me into yelling at him, it isn't something I want to risk. I sigh and nod, still looking into Godric's emerald green eyes, "Fine, deal, whatever Godric."

Satisfaction flickers through Godric's eyes and he smiles, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

I shake my head, "I work here two days on, two days off. I switched shifts with a friend so I could go to a concert tomorrow night at the other place where I work." Godric raises his eyebrows, clearly wanting to know, so I continue, "Sound Bites." He seems amused, and I nod, fighting a smile, "I know, I know. Regardless, it's this music supply store/record store/garage band-esque performance space."

Godric blinks, "That's..."

He trails off, obviously unsure of what to say about my explanation of the store, and I give him a cheeky grin, "Again, I know, but it's one of my favorite places in the whole world." Godric's lips twitch again, and I shake my head, "I'll see y-be here," I change my words quickly, "the night after tomorrow." Godric nods thoughtfully, turning to look out over Dallas, and I pause on the top of the staircase before turning to study him, "Don't stay out here too long. We have a pact, remember?"

I smile at him, and he glances over his shoulder at me and smiles back. "I'll remember, Lanie," he replies, and I grin, darting down the stairs and back to work.


I'm really proud of myself with this chapter, because, quite honestly, I re-read it and edited, which I don't usually do. Also, I've started writing chapter five and have pretty much finished planning out how this story's going to go, and let me warn you in advance: I hate the whole timeline of the True Blood show. I did actual research and realized it's all so fricking screwy! The whole first four seasons take place over like a two month time span, the biggest time jump being Sookie's little sojourn in Faerie. That being said, there will be some things that I deal with a little out of order because I just don't care. Also, I have no idea what season this takes place in and it seems like no one else does either (I looked it up online and all I got was a bunch of weird shit about how everybody dresses for a different time of year and how Bill screws with Sookie's mind, FYI) so if you know. I would love to know not that I really plan on mentioning the season or the month in the story, but it would make me feel loads more comfortable. Thank you all so much and I will for sure have chapter five by tomorrow if not by tonight.