Alright, so I'm officially a freak since I went to the opening night of Underworld: Rise of the Lycan. It wasn't... terrible... but it was still pretty awful. I liked it more than I liked the second one anyway... but to move on to the story, here's a nice long chapter for ya. I had to review/rewrite it a bit cause I know it has places to improve. I hope you enjoy it, and please review if you feel so inclined!

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Chapter 26: Routine

Inara woke with a yawn, turning onto her back as she stretch, a groan escaped her as her arms popped. She relaxed for a bit turning her head to see the sun was on it's downward path, and the edges of night were coming over the eastern horizon. She would sit up, running a hand through her messy hair, and after another stretch she stood, beginning another night.

It had been almost half a year since she had left Visceria, dragged away from the Valerious mansion by Dracula and thrown onto a train bound for the north. That letter she sent to Gabriel had been mailed months ago, and she had no idea if he even received it. The repercussion for that little act had not been as severe as she thought, she never got to see the town again, and Dracula treated her with distaste for days. By the time the loneliness got to her, he warmed back up to her. Their relationship had turned from utter disgust to that of partial acceptance. She did not fight like she did in the beginning, she didn't try to run with every chance she got, but that didn't mean that Inara wasn't waiting thinking about escape.

Inara wasted no time, and after rising from her bed she went immediately to change from that night shirt to a pair of well worn jeans and a t-shirt. After a month of arguing and a vicious strike that lasted for almost another month, Dracula had dropped the idea of Inara wearing dresses, and relented to her view of more comfortable cloths. Boots soon covered her feet, and Inara left her large room, wandering the halls of the castle, descending to the lower levels where the kitchen resided.

There was always food for her, as well as drink. Dracula took care to feed her well, keeping her strength up, and in some ways that kept her relaxed. She was never in fear of starvation, the vampire provided her with everything she could ever need. She made it easy on him, since her needs were not extravagant, a lesson provided by the Vatican. Sitting down at an old, battered table, Inara simply smeared butter onto a piece of bread, and along with a small glass of water and some fruit, she was satisfied. She rarely ate anything hot, the stove was wood burning, and Dracula supplied her with only enough wood that would let her sleep comfortably through the night in her chilly room. Nothing was usually spared for cooking. On occasion she would cook a warm meal, soup or maybe some meat, but they were rare occasions. She assumed the reason that he didn't give her large amounts of firewood, was because he didn't want her burning down the castle while he slept. Inara smirked at the idea, it would only be useful if she was really desperate to escape, but she wasn't at that point yet. The castle did not possess any modern comforts, no electricity or running water. It wasn't hard to adjust to, but it was tiresome on cold nights when Inara would have to walk to the courtyard's well to get water to drink.

Inara watched the sun set as her few pieces of bread slowly disappeared. By the time the last rays of sun disappeared from her window, she had finished her bread and munched contently on an apple. The night was beginning like a hundred others, and by her estimates she probably had another half hour before he would be awake.

Dracula was in the room within five minutes of the sun completely setting, Inara did not even notice until she stood to put the metal plate away. Her eyebrows lifted, surprised at this appearance. This only happened on one of two occasions... he was hungry or he had sensed something wrong. Inara assumed the latter, since his eyes did not hold the tingle of red that came when he started to hunger for her blood. Immediately her mind searched for any reason why he would be up, and staring at her in a way that made her feel as if he was judging or evaluating her. No... I haven't done anything... yet at least. Just... go away... She bit her lip and walked quickly past him, moving around the counter to what looked like a sink. Of course she had to pour water from a bucket near by to provide any water to wash the dishes in, but it was still a sink running water or no.

She began to wash the dish with the corse soap she was provided with, feeling his eyes on her still. What?! What is going on? Inara immediately chastised herself, she had become so accustomed to a routine that this small change was causing her to panic. Of course, any change in the delicate relationship would elicit some type of distress. She did not know the source of this change, so she opted for the worse possible result. His anger had not been demonstrated for months now, and she assumed that she would get a taste of it now...

"We are going to Rouen."

...What? She stopped what she was doing, and looked up at the vampire in utter confusion, did he seriously just say that? She had been waiting for an outburst, an accusation, at least a cool, cold remark that would have driven her to fiery reply. Inara had been blind-sided by this small announcement, and the way he said it. It was cool and calculated, something she should have been use to, but wasn't. Dracula read her confusion, but did not elaborate, nor repeat. Instead he closed the distance between them, his hand coming to clasp her wrist. The metal plate that had once been held there was now dropped into the soapy water below.

"Get your things, we're leaving tonight." The grip was not threatening, nor was his speech, but there was that demand with a small bit of urgency. Why did he wish to leave so soon? Why did he not tell her before hand? Why Rouen? Her thoughts were interrupted by him gently, but firmly pulling her away from the sink, jogging her from that little train of questions. "Go. Now." Inara just dumbly nodded, lost for words yet again. He released her, and she turned to ascend once more to her room.

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What is in Rouen? That small question raged through her brain as she packed a small duffle bag with her few bits of clothing. Her mind searched through any memory or scrap of information that she had read on the french town. It had been the capital of Normandy... and Joan of Arc was burned there, but besides that there was nothing else that stuck out. She lifted her head to see him standing in the doorway, watching her closely, studying her yet again.

"What?" she finally asked, her tone a bit harsher than she had wanted it to be. He was... better than before. His anger was not as terrible, and he did not threaten her, much. The times where he was at his kindest was the period right after he fed, and the times when he was at his worse was when he was hungry. He was still cold, and any mention of the Church was met with a biting anger that even caused her to flinch. His very soul bore that anger, and it seemed to weigh him down.

He was sensitive to her though, flinching when his comments were too harsh, extending small statements that could be taken as compliments if one listened carefully. She had even had a few pleasant conversations with him, over trivial things, but they had still been enjoyable. He flinched at her tone, but his eyes caught her own.

"You're done?" Inara nodded in response, a little irritated that he did not even answer her question. Dracula closed the distance, catching her arm. Inara jumped a little, but he didn't seem to notice. "We're leaving." And in a silent gust, they were gone.