Scarborough Fair

Anastasie

It's not the usual thing you hear when you talk to someone who has to go into one, but I actually like hospitals. Yes I know people in hospital are there because they're ill and yes, people do die there, but, and this may come as a surprise, some people do get better there too. Instead of the disinfectant smell making me sick, it reassured me that everything was clean. The doctors' white coats weren't symbols of maniac scientists, but rather the sign of a very highly qualified professional. I know there's something about defying the docs and turning out on top, but I trusted them. Probably too much. I decided that if I was going to trust anyone, I could trust a doctor. I'm actually fairly sure that if my mother wasn't so adverse towards the spilling of blood and what-have-you, she would probably have tried to marry me off to one before now.

A dark-haired nurse sat behind the reception desk, her eyes down towards her computer screen. My steps were loud and definitely hurried enough for her to notice me, and she smiled at me. "Can I help you?" she asked brightly.

"Yes..." I said, running my hand through my hair, "I'm here to see Oliver Pendragon, he was in a car accident earlier."

I cringed at the thought. Oliver had managed to drive straight into the path of an oncoming lorry, his car was a complete write-off and I did wonder if he wouldn't be in a similar state. I had been listening to the radio when the traffic news came on, and at the time I hadn't thought anything of it, until Oliver didn't come back from posting his letters. I felt on edge, and it was a scary thing to admit, but it was one of those horrible feelings that something had gone wrong. I never expected to be right. Walking up to the small crossroads in Scarborough I could just make out the remains of his car through the ensemble of police officers and fire crew. All they told me was that he had been taken to Scarborough General Hospital.

"Name?"

"Anastasie Parisien."

"Are you a relative?" she asked, raising an eyebrow whilst typing something into her keyboard.

Oh damn it. This was the part in the movies where the girl pretends that she's his fiancée. No good, I wasn't wearing a ring. "I'm his girlfriend." I said finally. Too late, the nurse had noticed the pause. She looked over me for a second, and my intuition told me what she was thinking before I needed it to.

"His records say he's twenty-seven, she looks quite a bit younger than him... Why these vampyres let their adults fool around with their minors is beyond me..."

"Oh, well that's alright then." She said, "Come around the side..." She pointed to a door near the reception, "I'll let you in."

She did so, and she took me to a lift at the end of the corridor. "Top floor, Room Two."

Alright, top floor, Room Two. I passed several doctors and nurses as I went, all of whom I noticed, were vampyres. I knew that vamps could now be treated at human hospitals, I didn't know we had a whole floor to ourselves...

"Are you Miss Parisien?" Another nurse asked me, clicking her pen and scribbling something on a chart as she talked. This nurse was a vampyre, albeit quite an old one. Her name tag read 'Aureliel, VN'. Obviously, hers was a very old badge, 'VN' was the old abbreviation for 'Vampyre Nurse', but I had to chuckle inwardly. 'VN' was also the abbreviation for 'veterinary nurse', and so the more modern badges were labelled RVpN. I didn't mind not being considered human but were we really animals? I smiled gently.

"Yes." I said. "I'm here to see Oliver Pendragon?"

"I know sweetie." She said kindly, "Come with me."

I had forgotten. Whilst lying to humans was relatively easy, lying to an adult vamp was an entirely different story. Oh crap. We entered Room Two, the lights dim and the monitors bleeping and breaking through the otherwise silent hospital room.

"How is he?" I asked, causing her to turn around at me with a pleasant look on her face, which was so clearly forced that I immediately felt like a prat.

Ask a stupid question. He was a mess. Limbs were cast in plaster and bandages covered pretty much all of him, I presumed they were from emergency surgery for internal bleeding. He was only semi-conscious and barely with it through all the drugs they had given him. It pained me to see him like this, it made my stomach turn in a sickening wave. Why was it that the worst things in life happen to the best people? It dawned on me – how in Heaven would the kids react when they saw him like this, and also, how on Earth was I ever going to tell them?

"Doing well so far." Said Aureliel. It didn't look like that, "Took one hell of a knock though. He's battered and bruised, we've had to cast his right arm, but so far everything else seems good, and adult vamps heal fast honey." She reassured me, "It will be useful for someone close to him to see him, how well he recognises you is a good gage of how hard he hit his head."

"He hit his head?"

"When he first came around he couldn't tell us how old he was or where he lived, or his next of kin's details." She said, reminding me of a mother hen, "We only found out who he was and his age from his driver's licence in his wallet."

"His parents are dead." I explained. Come to think of it, who was Oliver's next of kin? He'd never mentioned any other relatives. "So I don't know who his next of kin might be."

"Oh dear..." said Aureliel, "Well that rules them out then, I'm glad you managed to get here, we could do with his family's contacts."

"Um... well, he has eight younger brothers and sisters..." I said, "They don't know yet, I'll bring them in tomorrow."

"His siblings are his dependents?"

"Yes. I've been helping look after them recently."

"Any other family members?"

I shook my head. "None that he's mentioned." I saw her expression, "I'll look after the kids." I said quickly, "They know me well."

Aureliel gave me a sceptical look, before nodding briefly. "I do not wish to sound rude, but I have to ask your age." She said, "For legal purposes."

"Oh, I'm eighteen." I said, and therefore a legal adult, able to look after the children.

"Well that satisfies the humans." She said, scribbling. I could hear her think: "But it doesn't satisfy me."

The eyebrow remained raised. Aureliel clearly didn't believe me. But really, why would a pupil stay with a teacher over the holidays? Babysitting? A likely story. More likely we were shagging our socks off. I told myself to calm down – she didn't know he was my teacher, only that I was a minor in vampyre terms.

"Our relationship is purely platonic." I told her quite firmly. "In fact it's not even platonic it's just professional."

"I see."

With that, I turned away from her, and towards Oliver. He opened his eyes a little, his breathing in sync with the slow bleeping of the hospital monitor. At this point I didn't care what Aureliel, Yianna, or anyone at the House of Night might have thought. He had looked after me, been kind to me, and I was going to show him the same courtesy. His eyes, usually such a warm brown were blank, his pupils dilated. Bloody Hell he was a mess. They fixed themselves on me, as I sat next to his bed and held his hand after I had heard Aureliel leave. He was pretty much out of it.

"Hi Oliver..." I began, scraping a strand of hair behind my ear, not really sure what to say to him, "I suppose 'how are you' isn't exactly appropriate is it?"

He seemed to be studying me, his face less blank now than it had been. That was an extremely good sign. If he could recognise me this time, then that would mean an overall improvement, the damage wouldn't be permanent.

"Anastasia...?" he whispered, pausing for breath, a certain amount of wonder filling his hoarse voice as his hand clamped around mine, to the point where it was uncomfortable, but I didn't flinch, "You're alive?"

I grinned at him. "Of course I am!" I replied, choosing to ignore the mistake in my name and that he seemed to think I was dead, "I wasn't the one who drove in front of a bloody lorry now was I?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, like he thought he was seeing things, but it happened almost in slow motion, like he was so full of morphine that he could barely express it. "I can't tell you..." he said, every word taking all his effort, "How good it is to see you... How good it is to hear your voice again..."

"It's good to hear you again too." I said.

I could feel his hand tugging at mine. Confused, I let the muscles in my arm go limp, letting him raise my hand to his lips. I watched in wonder as he kissed my skin, his mouth warm, sweet and oddly familiar in a way I couldn't describe. It was absolutely what I would expect if he ever kissed me. Just for a moment, I found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, what that warm softness my hand had felt would feel like on my lips. I scoffed inwardly, it was a stupid thought, one, neither of us would ever let it happen and two, I shouldn't be having silly thoughts like that anyway. I drew my attention from my hand, which was still in his, to his face. His eyes were gently lidded, his lips tweaked up in a smile.

"I've missed you so much..." he said, rubbing my hand gently, his voice so full of emotion it made my heart swell. Just then, I saw a shining tear slide from the corner of his eye, "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Don't be silly Oliver." I replied, "You can't get rid of me."

"Anastasia... My own... You're so beautiful..." he breathed.

I can't honestly say that his words didn't disturb me, but the man's head had just had a rather unpleasant meeting with the dashboard of his car, I didn't expect him to say anything fathomable. Did he think I was someone else? Maybe his brain was playing tricks on him and he thought I was an ex –girlfriend or something, someone he once loved.

"I'm Anastasie, sir." I said, my voice dropping to a whisper itself, "And I'm not beautiful..."

Yianna

There was a knock at my door.

"Come in."

I lifted my gaze from my computer screen to see Ellen Ainscombe closing the door behind her. She was still wearing the same overalls and wellies that she wore around that farm of hers, and I grimaced inwardly at the trail of muck that she left engrained into my carpet. The smell hit me hard, and I made sure my face remained still as it did so. Couldn't she take a shower before coming to see me? Change her clothes, even? Her dark hair, tied back in a ponytail was a little greasy and strands of it frizzed out and fell around her face, probably a result of being outdoors in the wind. Her overall sleeves were rolled up and her arms and hands were too covered in dirt.

"Aafternoon' Yianna!" she said cheerfully in that Herefordshire drawl, "'Ow are yew tuhday?"

"Well thank you." I replied, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She pulled a face as she sat down in the chair opposite me. "Well..." she began, folding her arms, "Aye'm afraid Aye's gaht some bad news."

"Oh?"

"Yeah Aye was jus' on my way ta market 'tis morning an' 'tere was an acciden' at 'te crahssroads jus' up at Perry's Way, traffic was slow, anyway..." she jerked her thumb up, "Aye gaht up near 'te scene like, as Aye couldn't turn around wit' 'te trailer, an' 'oose bloody car was it what was sittin' 'tere all smashed up like but Oliver Pendragon's."

I blinked. "What?" I said in a panic, "Is he hurt?"

Ellen pulled another similar face. "Aye." She said, "Anyway Aye dropped 'round 'te 'ospital earlier. Broken arm, couple a fractures, an' 'it 'is 'ead agains' 'te dashboard so 'ard 'e didn't remember 'oo 'e was."

My hand covered my mouth. "Christ..." was all I could say.

"Aye. 'E's gettin' better but Aye'd reckon 'e's not gonna be around for 'te start a term."

I hung my head in my hands. That's all I need. I replace Spiridion and his replacement lasts all of three months. I'd go over to the hospital later myself, not that I distrusted Ellen, but I needed to go and see him for myself. Could I even hire a locum at this short a notice? How long would he need off? And Christ the paperwork...

Ellen seemed to have suddenly remembered something, snapping her fingers repeatedly. "Oh, an' I saw 'tat girl 'tere, oh what's 'er name...?"

Oh God of course. "Anastasie Parisien." I said. That made everything worse. What was that girl going to do now? Aaahh the moment he walks out of hospital I'm going to make him sorry he ever got in that car! Do Fencing Masters exist purely to make my life difficult? I took a deep breath and calmed down – it wasn't his fault.

"She said she were gonna take care a 'te kids for 'im, 'til 'e was better." Said Ellen.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." I replied, wiping my brow, "Isn't the girl a complete wreck?"

"I dunno bou' 'tat, she seemed pretty good when Aye saw 'er, dealt with it proper mature. Aye'd leave it if Aye were yew."

I semi-glared at her for the suggestion. "What?"

"Well, if she's 'appy ta' look aafter 'tem, Aye wouldn't involve 'te 'uman social services Yianna, Oliver won't thank yew for puttin' 'em in a centre, an' 'tat's what'll 'appen, he ain't got no one else but 'er."

"She can't do it alone." I said, "Not without help, I'm not going to accept responsibility for that."

Later on, I got on the phone to Dr. Cilian.

"Yianna, that's the worst idea you ever had."

I had expected that response. "I need someone to go and help look after Oliver's siblings."

"I still think it's the worst idea you've ever had."

"Why's that?"

"Yianna the girl is a nutcase. She can barely take care of herself let alone eight prepubescent children!"

"It'll be a learning curve for her." I argued back, "It would teach her to grow up!"

"I wouldn't take that risk with small children."

"How far wrong can this girl go?"

The response was sour. "Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to." I told him sharply, "But I need someone qualified to go and make sure those kids don't die."

Dr. Cilian sighed, and I could just see him at the other end of the phone, rubbing his brow and shaking his head. "Fine then." He said, "On your head be it. I'll give Lucy a call."

Anastasie

I didn't know what it was, but I couldn't get that feeling of Oliver kissing my hand out of my head. It was like getting a song you hate stuck in your head, it sticks in your memory just because you hate it, and then you hate yourself for remembering it in the first place, or one of those really awkward trains of thought that you keep thinking about purely because you find them disgusting, like having sex with the fattest ugliest bastard in the room. Once you've thought it once, it replays in your head, plaguing you for the rest of the day until you find something better to think about. Yeah you're thinking about that right now right? This one was driving me nuts. I hated the thought of it, I hated the fact that I couldn't shift it, and I hated the reaction it was getting out of me, like the very thought itself was mocking me. I kept feeling his lips on mine, warm, soft, moist, his breath on my face, dispersed with small moans and sighs...

I drove my hand into a fist so tight that it was painful. Not only was it so wrong that it was perverted, it was really arousing. I would never admit it to anyone, not even him. So I was eighteen and had never had a boyfriend, but was I really that desperate? I didn't like to think so. If I allowed myself to remain on that trail of thought for too long I would enjoy the feeling, but I would then shake myself out of it and feel ashamed. Why did I have these thoughts? That wasn't what we were, he and I. He would be disappointed in me if he knew, I could imagine his shock, the discomfort. I was stupid.

I felt awful. I had intended to go and see him in hospital every day, but to tell the brutal truth, I simply hadn't had time. I now understood why exactly it was that Oliver always looked so tired. I thought that sharing the duties with him was hard, and now I knew what it must have been like, him doing it all by himself. Christ it was hard. I could barely get up out of bed in the morning, I physically couldn't be in two places at once. I felt like a stretched rubber band that was about to snap. I couldn't do this alone, I'm not qualified to do this and I'm sure as Hell not insured to get it wrong. There was only one person that I could call.

So when the doorbell rang that morning, not long after I'd go the kids to school, relief washed through me and I had no trouble at all leaving Ellie for a moment to go and answer it.

Pulling back the door, a huge grin spread onto my face and I flung my arms around my visitor. "Spiridion!" I said, "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Hey, hey..." he said, hugging me back briefly, before putting his hands on my arms, "My girl, I'm not that big a deal."

"You have no idea." I said, "Come in."

I know what you're thinking, but you're not right. Spiridion was the closest thing I had ever had to a father. He listened to me, reassured me, and took care of me, until Yianna kicked him out. I didn't know the details of what had happened, and Yianna had merely thought the exact same thing as you were doing now. But right now, I needed a parent, I needed help, and he was the only one I would ever class as such.

"I thought I'd never come back here." He said as I closed the door behind him, "It's strange how places pull you back to them."

"Where were you?"

"London." He said.

"Why were you there?"

"It's home for me." He said, taking off his coat and hanging it behind the kitchen door, "I'm happiest there."

"I never felt that way about Bristol." I said, "Too urban for me. Too many students."

"Let's stick the kettle on." He said, looking around, "So this is Oliver's place?"

"Yep."

"I've never been here before." He said, "Oliver told me about it extensively when he was a fledgling."

"It must seem like such a long time ago."

"Ah it's not." He said, "When you live for centuries years pass like days. And it's not a long time ago you know, seven years."

Ellie was five years old. That's what you could achieve in seven years, a new life, complete uprootal and destruction. It wasn't the length of time, it's what you could cram into it that aged you.

I took Spiridion upstairs to meet Ellie. She was shivering again, when I had only just given her a hot water bottle just before I had gone downstairs to let Spiridion in. I gave her a thermometer to sit under her tongue and gestured for him to come outside so she couldn't hear us.

"How long before Oliver can come home?" I asked him. I didn't know how the Hell I expected him to know the answer, I mean how was he to? He looked at me for a moment, his expression reflecting precisely that. Then he relaxed a little and gave me a generalised look.

"Well..." he said, "Oliver is a young, strong, healthy male vampyre. And yes, males do heal at a faster rate than females, no one really knows why, it's got something to do with survival in battle I think, anyway: He should be alright to come home in a week or so."

"But Spiridion..." I said, whispering so that Ellie wouldn't hear, "I don't think he is strong and healthy. I think he's actually quite weak."

"Why do you say that?"

I sighed, lowering my voice again. "Spiridion, he never stops working, when I first arrives he was having sleep-deprivational collapses! He refuses point-blank to go out and drink fresh blood, he's not strong, not physically. It's why he had the accident in the first place."

I wached Spiridion as he processed this information. I remembered that Spiridion hadn't really seen Oliver, or been around him at all since Oliver actually left school seven years ago.

"I always wondered if Oliver would end up like this..." He said quietly, "I mean, overworking himself. He never put himself first, not even when it made him ill. It was a shame, because he went through a lot, and for the most part it went completely unnoticed."

"It still does." I said.

"Ah you noticed." He said knowingly, "I was his tutor." He said, opening the door slightly so that he could see Ellie, who was somewhere between sleep and consciousness, "Made sense as we shared an affinity. I liked to think that I was some support to him while he was here, but I wasn't clever enough for him, not by a long shot."

"Oh?"

"He can react and calculate moves quicker than any of the others, and it's because he can think fast and sharply." Said Spiridion, "You and he are not dissimilar, you know."

I was confused. "Why?"

"Although Oliver loved his parents dearly, he was under immense pressure from them, to be successful. He could have been anything, but he insisted right from the start that he wanted to teach, he fought them all the way for that. He's a hugely talented fencer of course, but I think he feels sometimes that it was a waste of his mind, his hard work." I listened, "But he lives to work with kids." He leant towards me slightly, "He lives to help people like you."

The warmth in the words made me smile. "He would have been a wonderful father."

"Why do you say that?"

I swallowed my tea, which was now going cold. "Because whenever I look at him, and his siblings, I can't help wishing my own father had been more like him."

"He's a good lad." Said Spiridion, "I'm particularly glad, that he got through to you."

I smiled. "Me too." I said, and I was. Eternally glad, and grateful. I owed him more than I could ever repay.

Thank you Oliver, I thought, I'd be lost without you.