"You cannot be fuckin serious," one of them exclaimed as soon as Nancy and the cop were pushed into the dark hospital. "A cop? Oh, yes."
She was trying everything she could to break the man's hold, but absolutely nothing was working. He didn't yield at all. The cop was having no luck either.
Four guys were seated around a low table, cards in front of them. The air smelled like... like moisture, mustiness. A small camp lantern on the table cast a glow over the gathered men, and on all their faces, the same grin she could remember from the night before, showed there.
She didn't know that she was shaking until she realized only the lookout's grip on her arm was keeping her upright.
"You!" The guy who had attacked Ned the night before was there, and he recognized her. "You were with the guy last night! Oh, hell. See?"
A red-headed guy with a brown beard shook his head. "You win."
"And a fuckin cop? Ian's gonna love this." The first guy shook his head, incredulous. "Damn."
Ian.
"Think we should wait?"
The guy holding Nancy released her, and she nearly collapsed to the floor. "Nah," he said, and she was looking up at him as he—
As he sank his fangs into the cop's neck.
His fangs.
The room began to dim again, and what followed—if she had been able to tear her gaze away, she would have, but she couldn't. The cop fought it at first, as much as he could, but almost casually the red-headed guy took his gun out of the holster and he was left defenseless, his knees buckling. He shuddered as he slumped to the ground and the lookout wiped his lips, his chin smeared with blood.
Nancy's stomach heaved.
The cop twitched once, then was still.
Nancy began to scramble backwards, crabwise on her palms and feet. She could—she could get to the other end of the hospital and break in. The girls—
The guy who remembered her looked down with a grin. "No, sweetheart, sorry. Why don't you stay for a while."
She made herself rigid, arching to make her weight as awkward as possible, to buy herself some time or some leverage. The lookout lifted her with one hand, like he was lifting a five-pound weight. As soon as she was on her feet, she jerked away from him.
The dark-haired guy looked up. "He ready yet?"
"I'm sure he is, but he could hold out a few hours." An unsmiling blond man folded his arms. "And we should probably ask Ian."
The lookout shrugged and grabbed Nancy's arm again. She clawed at his hand, digging her heels against the linoleum, and she saw a flash of anger on his face when he turned.
He backhanded her once, hard, and for that moment, the pain in her leg seemed to recede a little. "You aren't going anywhere," he told her, resuming their walk out of the reception area. "So just relax."
Nancy took a deep breath, cupping her jaw. She couldn't bring herself to just walk along behind him easily, but his grip was unyielding. "Where's Ned?"
The guy ignored her.
"He was at the hospital. You took him," Nancy prompted. "Dark brown hair. He was with me last night—"
The guy turned and glanced at her as they entered a dim, cold stairwell. He didn't say anything, but she saw a particular glint in his eye. He knew.
"Please," she said, hating herself for begging, but any hint, any clue she managed to pull out of him would save her time later, once she escaped.
He shook his head and dragged her up two flights of stairs, to the third floor. He was no rougher than he had to be to get her through the door, and as soon as they were on the third floor, a man greeted them, his gaze cold as he looked Nancy over.
"With the others?"
Nancy's heart sank when the lookout shook his head. "Got to ask Ian what to do with this one. If he doesn't get back soon, though..." The lookout grinned.
Fangs in her neck. She could almost feel them already
Desperately she began to tug at her hand, trying to pull away from him. She couldn't help it, couldn't stop herself. She had to away from them. Had to find Ned and get as far away from here as they could.
He backhanded her again and Nancy sagged, kept upright only because of his grip on her wrist. "Get the door," the lookout said, and she was shoved through, into an almost-empty patient room. The window was boarded over, and the only light came dim from the hallway.
Nancy felt a hand groping at her pocket and tensed, her eyes widening when the lookout plucked her cell phone out of her pocket. She couldn't pull herself out of his grip; the only thing she could do was bat at the phone, catching him off guard. As soon as the phone hit the floor she slammed her heel into it, shattering the screen.
The lookout scowled, drawing his hand back, and he chuckled when she flinched. "No ransom for you, then," he said angrily.
The other man shook his head. "Too much trouble anyway," he said. "With our luck she's poor and has no gullible friends."
Thank God they had no idea who she was, who her father was. She went cold at the thought of one of them calling him, at what it would do to him. In the state he was in—
She took a breath and suddenly she was on a pallet, her wrist cuffed to the radiator under the window. The lookout gazed down at her, his arms crossed.
"If we come back and those boards," he nodded at the window, "are down? You will have a very unpleasant evening."
Nancy gingerly touched her upper lip and found a thread of tacky drying blood there. "Why do I think I'll have one regardless," she muttered.
The lookout chuckled, turning to head for the door.
"Please," she said. "At least tell me if he's here or not. Please."
"You'll find out," the lookout said, without turning back to face her. "Now keep quiet."
Nancy counted her breaths and reached one hundred before she began to work on the cuffs. They had only shackled one wrist. Two would have taken longer, but she was still confident it would only be a matter of time.
He was here. She knew he was here. She had to find him and get out, come back with help so they could get the girls.
Hang on, Ned. Hang on. I'm coming.
That was when she saw the flicker of movement through the window in her door. So they were keeping an eye on her.
She could tell by the sweep of the sunlight, the shifting light, that clouds were drifting over the sun. She worked more slowly, her eyes closed, working with it by feel, and her wrist felt practically raw by the time she managed to pull it out of the cuff.
A guard wouldn't be up here unless someone else was up here too. The other girls—that made sense; from the third floor escape through a window was less likely, and they would be easily separated in their little cells.
Ned.
For an insane irrational second she wished she could just sense him somehow, but she gave up, marshaling her strength. She was going to need it.
When she opened her eyes she had begun comforting her leg again. And that was what scared her the most. If she could get Ned out of his cuffs, if he hadn't managed to get out of them already, together they could find a way out.
But she remembered the way he had looked the last time she had seen him, his handsome face pale, and so still. If he was still unconscious—
Well, she was going to have to cross that bridge when she came to it. She was in a hospital; maybe she could find some gurneys, a wheelchair, something, some way to wheel him out.
Down the stairs. No electricity; no elevator. Yeah.
Nancy shook her head, watching through her lashes, waiting for the flicker of movement again. Before she saw it, she heard footsteps on the stairs.
"He back yet?"
Nancy couldn't resist the urge. She crept forward, very quietly, until she was just pressed against the door, and turned to tilt her head, the cup of her ear, against it.
"It's gotta be tricky."
"You really think it's five?"
"I don't know, but what happens to everyone else?"
"I don't really fuckin care as long as it isn't here. This is a damn shithole. ...You think it'll work?"
"We'll see."
They continued down the hall, until they were out of her earshot. Nancy looked up at the doorknob.
Her room didn't connect with the room next to it, although she saw another door. A bathroom. The bathroom was extremely dark, and the air there felt like it was heavy with moisture.
She shivered, once, searching it for anything she could use to pick the door lock. The toilet paper holder took a moment for her to disassemble, with her shaking hands, and she rested for a moment before creeping very quietly to the door again.
Morbius hadn't said anything about heightened senses. Since the guard hadn't caught her working her way out of the cuffs, she was pretty sure he wouldn't hear her working on the door lock either.
She was just reaching up to try the knob when she heard the footsteps approaching again.
The more rational part of her wanted to wait for the shift change, for a likely time that someone would be distracted. From the general air of boredom and irritation, she didn't think the person on guard duty would be all that vigilant.
But then she remembered the cop crumpling to the floor, twitching, his neck a gout of blood, and the cold eyes staring down at him.
She had to try, though. She had no choice. For as long as there was a chance—
She had to swallow hard at that, against the sudden lump in her throat. As long as she could see a chance for any of them, she had to try.
The footsteps passed again. The original knob had been replaced, and it jiggled a little when she tried it. It was double-key. The door was probably particle board, and a good kick just beside the lock would probably take the door down, but it would be loud and she couldn't trust her bad leg to hold all of her weight while she used her good one. With a quiet sigh she began to untwist the spring in her fingers.
No more bed-and-breakfasts for her, oh no, not until her damned leg was all better. She wanted to go home, to be safe in her own bed, to see her father again. But she couldn't imagine any of it without Ned.
As the steps returned she hastened over to the blanket, taking the empty cuff and tucking it under the edge, then bunching it up to make it appear she had fallen asleep underneath. It wouldn't fool an interested glance, but a disinterested one, probably.
Picking the lock, as quietly as she could, took longer than she wanted. She kept having to wipe her hands on her jeans when they became slick with nervous sweat.
Footsteps pounded up from the stairwell. "Dinnertime!" a sarcastically cheerful voice called out. Nancy scrambled back to her blanket, sliding her fingers through the cuff but keeping her hand behind her, and less than half a minute later, she saw the suggestion of a silhouette at her door.
She hadn't realized how dark it had become. Soon she wouldn't be able to see her work at all. While she had picked locks in the dark, she didn't relish the task on top of her fatigue and worry.
Dinner turned out to be a bottle of water, a sandwich, and a pill. Nancy looked at it suspiciously when it was handed to her, and the lookout's face was even more sinister in the lamplight. "Just a multivitamin," he told her. "Got to keep your iron up." He winked before heading for the door.
"And if I don't eat?"
"Believe me, it's a lot easier to do the sedative-and-IV thing," he said, catching the doorknob in his fingers. The wire was tucked under Nancy's thigh, the sharp end digging into her through her jeans. "Just not nearly as fun."
After a thorough inspection of both the sandwich and the seal on the water bottle, Nancy finished them both, though she tucked the pill under the corner of her blanket. No matter what he had said, she still didn't trust his explanation.
The guard was talking to someone else in low tones when Nancy finally managed to unlock her door. The room was so dark that she could only see her own skin as a suggestion of light and shadow, and she was hoping to use that to her advantage.
She twisted the knob so, so slowly, and held her breath for a moment before she just barely opened the door. The voices had trailed off. Maybe they had wandered to the other end of the hallway.
She wanted to crawl, to keep low, since she would have a better chance of eluding their detection that way, but crab-walking earlier had made her leg hurt even more than usual, and she was afraid to try it. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself to her feet, closing her eyes so they would be accustomed to the darkness.
Her heart was beating painfully hard when she opened the door, as slowly as she possibly could, and took a step, glancing wide-eyed down the hallway.
Two figures stood there. One of them raised his head, tilted it.
As fast as she could, she made for the stairwell door. Before she could reach it, a man stood there, a slight smile on his lips. "So you got out of the cuffs and through the door. Impressive," he said, crossing his arms.
Nancy glanced over, trying to find another way out, and then his hand shot out, clamping hard around her wrist. The redheaded guy from downstairs was standing there beside them, suddenly, and she saw that same expression on his face, the one she had seen the night before and not quite understood.
Hunger.
"He's not back yet."
The redheaded man shook his head, his gaze still on Nancy.
"Well, I'd love to play cat and mouse with you all night," the first man said, glancing back at Nancy, "but we do have other things to do. So come with me."
She stumbled on the first step and he tossed her prone over his shoulder, the bone there digging into her stomach, and she beat at his back with her fists, desperately. The redheaded man, still standing in the upper doorway, let out a loud laugh, and Nancy's heart sank. It felt like punching a bag of concrete, and just as ineffective.
Back in the kitchen, the lookout and three men Nancy hadn't seen before were gathered around the table. She was tossed unceremoniously to the floor, and while she tried to land well, her leg didn't cooperate, and the wind was knocked out of her. She winced, pushing herself up on her elbows, then her palms. The emergency room exit—
The cop's blood was still on the floor and for a second she wondered where he was.
"She got out."
"And?"
"And I wouldn't mind so much, but it's wrong to play with your food, right?"
Three of the men laughed, and Nancy's stomach turned. She used the wall to help pull herself up to her feet.
The man who hadn't laughed shrugged. "Double the cuffs."
"Too big a risk. I think he'd agree."
Two of them seemed to have reached the end of the conversation before the rest of them had, and they turned toward her, their eyes wide and shining, lips slightly parted. They looked like men she would see on the street, at work, dressed moderately well, but the look in their eyes reminded her of the most terrible criminals she'd chased, the ones whose lives had driven them to acts of unimaginable cruelty, who afterward had discovered that the acts weren't so repugnant after all.
The lookout jerked his shoulder behind him. "No change. Throw her in; two birds with one stone."
A man in a brown leather jacket licked his lips, and Nancy shuddered when she saw the gleam of a fang. "Not even a taste?" he complained.
"We have to leave plenty," the man who had brought her downstairs said in a singsong voice.
"And if he turns her down?" the guy in the leather jacket asked.
"I say..." the other man replied, then smiled. "Buffet time."
Nancy's legs were shaking as he dragged her through the kitchen. They passed near the knives and he grabbed her other wrist, twisting painfully, until she was gasping, stumbling along, her teeth gritted. In the other room the men were laughing and her stomach was clenched.
He dragged her to the freezers. Each was sturdily barred. He held her wrists one-handed and she threw all her weight, trying to shake off his grip, as he reached for the bar on the leftmost freezer.
He moved to backhand her and she dropped to the floor, avoiding his hand. He yanked her to her feet and she let out a pained cry as her weight shifted to her injured leg.
Behind the door was darkness, and, just faintly, the sound of breath.
Nancy was tossed inside so suddenly that she crashed into the wall, all the wind knocked out of her again. Before she could even glance up the door was shut and she heard the bar slide back into place.
Her heart. Her heart. Oh God. She couldn't hear anything over the roar of her pulse, and what had they shut her in with—
The faintest glow was coming through the small window in the freezer. Nancy closed her eyes, forcing herself to count to ten, slowly. When she opened her eyes the darkness swam with purples and flashes of gold, resolving into graphite on midnight. The room smelled like old damp cardboard, the slightly sweet stench of rot, the high dim note of refrigeration.
"Hello?"
She had to be imagining it. Had to be. His voice sounded like Ned's.
"Hello?"
"Nancy."
Nancy let out a shocked cry, almost a sob, and scrambled across the floor toward the sound of his voice. "Ned," she replied, "oh my God, Ned, you're awake—"
"Nancy," he replied, his voice soft. She felt his jeans against her fingertips and traced them up—he was sitting on the floor, propped against the shelves, but he was awake—
"Oh my God," she whispered again, sliding her arms around him, and he slipped an arm around her. She was crying, she realized belatedly. "I thought I'd lost you," she whispered, putting her face against his neck, feeling him breathe. "I went back to the hospital and you were gone—Ned, we have to get out of here—"
"I'd love to," he murmured, and then she heard something rattle near her ear. "I'm cuffed, though."
"I thought I taught you how to get out of cuffs."
"You did," Ned pointed out. "Just not this kind."
She found the cuff, exploring it with her fingertips. It was made of thick, solid metal, tight about his wrist so he couldn't slide his hand out. Once she eliminated that possibility, she felt along the links. If they could just break the chain, they could take care of the cuff later.
Ned's fingers touched her face, and she paused for a second, her eyes closing. "I thought I'd never see you again," he whispered. "Never touch you again."
"You know I'd never leave you," she replied, trying to keep her voice light. "Not like this."
She pulled herself to her feet and began to find her way around the room by touch, hoping to find something to hammer the chain apart. "I guess you were right about that mad scientist experiment thing," he said.
"Oh?"
"I have needle marks on my arms. Can't remember getting them." He paused. "And I'm hungry," he whispered. "So incredibly hungry."
Nancy froze for a second, then continued her search. She found a few empty boxes, but otherwise only the shelves. When she yanked on those, they were bolted firmly in and didn't budge. "Didn't they feed you?"
"A sandwich and some water," he confirmed. "But that didn't touch it. Guess I'm starved from being passed out."
Nancy went back to Ned, sitting down on the floor near him, feeling along the chain again. "You don't have your Swiss army knife or anything with you, anything to help pick this lock?"
"Sorry, no," he murmured.
She made a soft clicking noise with her tongue. "It's okay. I'll get you out of here. He'll... he'll be able to fix it."
"He?"
"The doctor from the hospital." She chuckled a little, without humor. "The CDC one. He told me you were infected, but you're awake, and... you don't feel... sick, do you?"
"I feel like shit," Ned admitted. "And, you know, it's the damnedest thing. I thought I heard one of them talking about blood."
"The doctor said... you're going to laugh," she told him. "He said you're infected with something a lot like vampirism."
But Ned didn't laugh. When his voice did come, it was small and almost wounded. "Oh."
"And the guys here..." She shook her head. "I think I'm losing my mind. They're fast, and strong, and I saw one of them... I brought a cop in as backup and they just... bit... him..."
Ned didn't reply, and Nancy took a deep breath. "But it's okay. We'll get you out of here and everything will be okay."
Ned reached for her hand. "Baby... you have to get out of here."
"We will—"
Ned made a soft sound, almost a sigh. "No, Nan. We don't have time. You have to get out of here. You do."
"I'm not leaving without you. We'll get the cuff off—"
"We don't have time," he repeated, and from the tone in his voice she could tell he was upset.
"I don't understand," she whispered, but she felt like she was turning into ice, turning entirely numb. Because he couldn't mean—
"I'm dying," he whispered. "I can feel it, baby, and I want... Nan, if you don't get out of here—"
"Morbius has been working on an antidote," she said desperately, squeezing his upper arm. "We just have to get you to him."
"Working on it," Ned repeated. "But he hasn't found it yet, has he."
Nancy choked back a sob. "But he can do—something—"
Ned touched her cheek. "Nan, get out of here. Please."
"I can't leave you."
He went quiet for a moment. "From the second you walked in here," he said softly, "I... You have to get away from me."
She had never been afraid of him, never. Never in her entire life. She knew that he had loved her forever, that he would never hurt her.
But in that second she knew he could.
Once the hunger takes over, he will kill you.
Slowly she stood, her heart beating faster as she moved to the small window. Distantly she could see the rectangle of light from the reception area, where the guards were. She felt around but there was no handle on the door, no seam big enough to dig her fingers into. She felt around the other side of the door, but the hinges were on the outside.
Two silhouettes crossed into the room, and Nancy shrank away from the window. "Fuck, it's dark," one of the men muttered. "You got a flashlight?"
"We're runnin through D-cells like candy," the other said, heading back. He returned and Nancy backed to the wall as they approached, shining the light through. The beam found her, then Ned, and she glanced over at her fiancé.
He was pale, his hair rumpled, his eyes bright, but he looked drawn, almost fragile.
And then his lips parted, and Nancy slid down the wall, trembling. She heard a small, almost animalistic sound and realized it was her, the sound of herself whimpering.
Fangs. He had fangs.
The two men laughed. "Go get her," one urged. "Bet she tastes sweet."
Ned glanced away, hiding his face. The beam went back to Nancy, and she looked away too.
No. No. She was going to wake up back at the inn and this, this was a nightmare.
By the time the two guys left, Nancy had her knees tucked up to her chest and was rocking back and forth, gasping for breath. She didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to.
But she had seen it.
"You'll die," she whispered. "If you... if you don't have some blood. You'll die."
Ned took a trembling breath. "Then I'll die."
Nancy wiped her face with her palm. "Ned..."
"I can't do this. I can't... I can't hurt someone..."
But he would. Morbius had been very clear about that. He was shackled, and it did seem to be holding, for now, but she had been given to him.
What if he turns her down?
Buffet time.
Him or them. Him or them, or she could kill herself. Those were the only three ways she could see out of it.
She wiped her face again. "They said that if you don't... do this, they will hurt me," she whispered.
"When they come to the door, when they open it, you can rush them, distract them, something—"
Nancy shook her head. "They are so fast," she said. "So strong, and they heal quickly, and my leg... Ned, even if I didn't have a bum leg to drag around, they're a hundred times faster. They open the door and I'm as good as dead."
"You have to try."
She sobbed once, then, wishing with every fiber of her being that she could see his face again. She moved a little across the floor, toward him. He didn't understand how fucking hopeless it was. "And leave you here to die."
"They... they drink blood. I can't live that way... I can't, baby. And I couldn't live with myself if I hurt you."
Her head was pounding, her throat thick from her tears, and she ran her hand through her hair, trying to catch her breath. Her face and legs felt bruised from the rough handling, but worse than that was the terrible ache in her heart.
She moved over to him again, reaching for his cheek, and when he flinched away from her touch, she whimpered, hurt. "Ned, please," she whispered. "You have to try. He... Morbius will find a cure, I know he will, it'll just be for a little while, but..."
Ned was breathing hard. "I won't," he said. "I won't."
"You told me you'd marry me," she said then, her voice shaking. "You can't die."
He moved, trying to get away from her. "Get away from me," he begged. "Baby, please, you don't understand..."
He would kill her, or they would. She had no doubt about that.
And if she had to die, she would die in the arms of the man she loved.
She cupped his face with both hands, turning him toward her, felt how labored his breath was, how tense his every muscle was. He was holding himself back. "Ned, the only chance is if you do this," she whispered. "We can't get out this way. They're too fast, too strong. But if you do this..."
She could feel his breath. "I would turn you into a monster."
He didn't know. He didn't know that his bite would kill her.
She swallowed hard. "The cure," she said. "He'll find the cure and this..."
Ned jerked away from her again. "I can't hurt you," he said hoarsely. "I can't..."
Nancy closed her eyes. "Then kiss me," she whispered.
He took a long breath, and her fingertips brushed his cheek as he cupped her own. She moved forward, standing on her knees, and barely brushed her lips against his.
He made a soft noise as he kissed her, and her lips parted. Her heart was beating so hard again and his tongue slipped into her mouth, and she swirled hers around it, and—
They both shivered when her tongue brushed one of his fangs.
No. No. Not true, not true, no.
"I love you," she whispered, trembling when the kiss broke. "I love you so much."
"I love you too," he breathed, leaning forward again. He kissed her and she moved onto his lap, straddling him, arching.
And his touch...
When Morbius had touched her—
Most people are pretty easy for me to influence.
She had felt it, felt that ineffable interference, wrestling with her. But she had been able to overcome it. Now, though.
He was supposed to be her husband, and now they would never leave this room, and she would never know what it was, to feel that expression of his love for her.
But she wanted to.
She stood up on her knees, the pain swallowed in desire as she unbuttoned her pants, then started trying to work them down her legs. She had to swing off him, but as soon as her jeans were off, she pushed her panties down too, wincing when the fabric brushed her wound.
"Nan," Ned breathed, as she straddled him again, reaching for his fly. He cupped her face, drawing her back to him, as she unzipped his pants.
She was starting to panic, so she kissed him harder, and his fangs scraped the inside of her lower lip—
And she tasted the faint copper of blood.
Ned groaned, rocking up under her. "Shit," he breathed. "Just... just a little, just..."
And she knew she was lost, but at least it was him. At least it was Ned.
She panted as Ned slipped his arm around her, drawing her closer to him. "Take your clothes off," he murmured, and immediately she reached down to the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, her bra following, leaving her naked.
He guided her up, kissing her breast. He gently ran the tip of his fang over her and she whimpered as the brush left a stinging wound over the sensitive flesh. He licked up the trace of blood, shuddering, and she moved closer to him.
"Taste so good," he mumbled. He nipped at her other breast and she cried out, wincing at the pain.
"I need you," he told her, gently biting her without using his fangs. "I need you, sweetheart, please..."
"Then take me," she whispered, a pair of tears slipping down her cheeks as she cupped the back of his head. "I'm yours, baby."
Yours forever.
He pushed her down onto her back and she could feel her jeans bunched under her as he moved between her bent legs. He kissed her, his lips trailing down to her neck, leaving small stinging kisses.
He licked the side of her neck and she shuddered under him, tilting her head back. "Fuck," he swore, as she wrapped her legs around him, as he traced the artery on the side of her neck hard with the tip of his tongue. "Oh my God, Nan..."
"Yes," she whispered, trembling, tilting her head to give him better access, and she was crying freely now.
He sucked hard at the side of her neck and despite herself, despite her terror and fear and the pain, all of it, she felt herself flush a little in response, and Ned groaned. He traced his fangs over the side of her neck and she felt him break the skin, and it stung.
She cried out, loudly, arching. He sucked hard against her flesh, finding every trace of blood, and then he sank his fangs completely into her neck and he fucking surged, as he made love to her.
"Ned," she whispered, crying out as they moved together, and oh, oh God it hurt. Her pulse was throbbing hard and it felt like he was sucking a hickey against her neck, a terrible brutal hickey, but she could smell her blood in the air—
Could smell their mingled sweat, their lovemaking.
Her love.
She touched the ring with her thumb, trembling against him as he drank her blood.
She had known that she might face this choice one day, to save his life or her own. She had never dreamed it would be like this.
He bit and sucked on her shoulder and she shook, her hips trembling. This time she moved to meet him and he groaned against her skin.
She saw purple spots in front of her eyes.
So this is how it feels to die.
He bit the other side of her neck, lower down, and even through the pain she felt a wave of desire crash over her.
He whispered her name and licked a blood drop off her neck, and she squirmed under him. "I love you so much."
She dug her nails into his back and panted, shuddering, as they made love. "I love you," she whimpered. "Forever, baby. Forever."
She screamed then, and she was sprawled, spent, feeling him nip at her breast again. She shuddered when he brought her hand to his lips, tracing the pale blue web of her wrist with his tongue.
Her next shiver had nothing to do with their lovemaking.
Morbius hadn't said it would hurt like this. Maybe he hadn't cared; maybe he thought she deserved to find out this way.
"Nan," Ned breathed, and then his lips were near her cheek. "Nan!"
"I love you," she whispered, sliding her hand down to cup his cheek, and she couldn't stop trembling. "I love you so much, baby. Thank you."
Ned shook his head, panting. "Nancy!"
The anguish in his voice... it was amazing, how much fell away, how the world had constricted to just the two of them, and now...
"Nancy, please! Stay with me!"
"I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry, baby. I love you."
He buried his face against her chest.
She wished she could say more. Take care of my dad. Be good, and kill every fucking last one of them when you get out of here.
He was all that was left.
"I love you," he whispered hoarsely against her breast, and at the end he choked in a sob.
And then she was gone.
