Slowly, with the most care and consideration Eichhorst had ever put into any action of his life, he set Vivika down on the ground just to the right of The Master's golden coffin. Blood both red and white dripped from him as he dropped to his knees at his wife's side. He couldn't take his eyes off her no matter how much they stung from the remains of the poison, not for one single second. He'd awoken in the dark, abandoned church to a Strig holding his stinger firmly against his wife's wrist and at first he'd not known what was happening but then it had all come back to him like a tsunami wave. The poison, Setrakian, Vivika's panicked eyes.

"Please, Master, please, save her. I beg you. I was weak, but she is strong. Please save her." Thomas practically stumbled over his words.

"She has served loyally, yes. You chose a wife well." Said The Master without any attempt to move.

Eichhorst held his wife's hand, her cooling hand, tightly. She'd stopped healing, all of her blood had practically been drained by himself before he'd managed to wake up. All the blood in the world wouldn't have saved him but Vivika's blood was so full of white it had almost been as if The Master himself had opened up a vein. She was dying, his Vivika was dying.

"You said you would restore her longevity should she serve you fully. She has, Meister, she has!" Thomas cried with a desperation he'd never experience before. "She houses the Mongrel experiment. She saved me, she is the reason Setrakian does not have long, she is who got us the Lumen."

As if on cue a Strig set down the Lumen, wrapped in a bloody shirt, at The Master's feet like a trophy only to back away quickly; scurry really. The Master just regarded it for a moment, didn't make any attempt to approach it further, even their all-powerful Lord couldn't handle silver.

"I will do anything you ask, my Lord. anything. Please, just give her back to me. Her heart beat is almost gone."

Thomas never begged, wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction but he'd beg for Vivika. Had this happened at the start, before she'd shown her true colors, when she'd just been his pretty assistant then he'd have left her to her fait, but she was his wife and she'd saved him. Thomas would beg.

"In my countless years there have been many human servants, some better than others, some useless, some perfectly suited such as yourself. None, however, have been the surprise Vivika has. Of course I will return your bride, Thomas."

Half in amazement, half in shock Eichhorst watched as The Master crouched down on the opposite side of Vivika. Thomas clung to her hand as relief flooded him, his wife was going to live.

"Praise you, Meister."

"Lift her head."

The former Nazi did so quickly, he lifted her head with his remaining hand angry that he no longer had the other to hold her hand. Fake blue eyes watched as The Master sliced through his wrist and held it to Vivika's mouth once he'd used his ridiculously long nail to part her lips. A couple of drops of the White tumbled down into her mouth then, after the longest minute of Eichhorst's expansive existence she started to actively drink something which flooded him with relief. Another moment passed uneasily and then one of her hands came up to hold The Master's wrist in place. That was when Thomas realized she'd be all right, she'd live.

"Thank you, Master, thank you."

The Master nodded. "She is a loyal servant, I do not waste those of use to me." He said slowly as Vivika continued to drink. "It is a good job your worms think she is already one of our species, had you infected her this would not have been possible. Though I suspect she doubted surviving this."

It struck the German then that his master was correct, Vivika always put self-preservation above all else but she'd not even hesitated to have him, to open up her wrist and hand over her almost immortality.

All those thoughts coursed through Thomas' mind for another five minutes or so while his bride guzzled down The Master's White. When he decided she'd had her fill their Lord withdrew his arm and she collapsed against the cold ground.

"Take her to the penthouse, she will sleep a very long time. I must speak with Zach, though the risk to Vivika's life may work to further convince him of our plans."

The former Nazi nodded swiftly as he lifted her head up once again then, ever so carefully, held her bridal style while The Master snatched up the Lumen via the shirt. He grumbled when he saw how many pages had been ripped out only to be shoved back in haphazardly; almost all of them were covered in candle wax.

Eichhorst was quick to return his wife to their penthouse where he lay her down in their large bed. He'd not put her into a car and driven – which would have been safer due to his weak state – no, Thomas couldn't take his eyes nor his hand from her and so had run the entire way with as much speed as he'd been able to muster. Even after she'd set her into bed and moved to the other side of the room to strip off his bloody prosthetics and suit he'd watched her through the mirror like she'd suddenly vanish. In fact when he wiped his make-up from his face was the only time his eyes left her and even that was just for a moment.

Once he'd returned himself to his natural state he risked a glance down at his hands to realize he shook. Thomas hadn't been scared in as long as he could remember, but facing the loss of Vivika had terrified him. He loved her and he'd almost lost her. The Master had been proud other though, knew how much she'd done for them and had restored her longevity as he'd promised. All would be okay.

Naked he stood and went to the closet where he took his silk robe form the inside of the door and slipped the black fabric on, he tied it tightly then lay down beside his bride while unconsciousness continued to grip her. Before he knew it he'd removed her heels uncaring that they were just dropped to the floor and pulled her into his arms. Memories of when he'd strangled her flooded back to him in violent flashes, he'd thought he'd lost Vivika then as well but here she was.

Then something happened which shocked no one more than Eichhorst himself, he rested his only hand atop her flat stomach and spoke to the child inside her.

"Your mother will be fine, I promise."

The warhead was still out there and Augustin had gotten away but they could be dealt with later, there and then he needed to hold his wife close as she healed.

~X~

Vivika didn't know she was dreaming, that her unconscious brain was trying to keep her occupied while it repaired, so, when she found herself stood in the living room of her father's house, she didn't question it at all. Vivika had always hated that living room with it's cold walls and dusty windows, it wasn't a bad room exactly just a mess due to her father's inability to tidy up after himself. She hated the room because of the way it was always dirty no matter how much she tried to clean it, he always messed it straight back up again, so eventually she'd just stopped bothering and slowly it had descended into the mess of beer bottles she saw before her.

The cirrhosis was bad now, his liver more scar tissue than actual liver but even that hadn't stopped him knocking them back. I got thrown out of Cornell for this shit?! Those words had run around inside the dark-haired girl's brain for weeks now. Carefully she stepped over a small pile of bottles until she came face to face with her father, Dylan Graves. Jaundice had taken root at this point and sent his skin a sickly yellow, his eyes no longer looked white but more like weak tea and the weight loss hadn't helped. He was constantly scratching now as well, bile under the skin made him feel like ants had nested. She'd never say it to anyone because she knew the looks and questions it would bring but Vivika really was just waiting for the toxin build up to put him in a coma and then finally kill him. Had he stopped drinking ten years ago when she'd told him to then maybe he wouldn't be slumped in a chair fatigued and dying with his daughter staring at him in disgust.

Vivika Graves wasn't new to death, one of her boyfriends had lost a game of Russian roulette and another had gotten himself shot by someone mid break-in. Vivika had seen death and it didn't bother her in the least, no, in that moment the thing that disgusted her the most was the mess around her and the noise of her father's loud breathing.

"What do you want?" She asked her father, didn't try to hide the disdain in her voice any longer but he was too far gone to notice much.

"Get me another drink, Vivika."

"No." She sighed and nudged an empty beer bottle away from her foot. Seriously, I got kicked out of Cornell for this of all fucking things? He should be in a damn hospital not bothering me.

Her father raised a dark eyebrow at her questioningly as she stood between himself and the television.

"I'm dying." He announced as if she hadn't already noticed and as if it would somehow have anyone jumping to his beck and call.

"And whose fucking fault was that?"

Dylan's yellow eyes darkened, when sober he was the nicest man anyone had ever met but when intoxicated he turned verbally abusive, especially now the cirrhosis had started to mess with his brain. The man had never raised a hand to his child though Vivika suspected that was because he was smart enough to know how Vivika would have reacted. She'd never been normal.

"Show me some damn respect!" He hissed though Vivika hardly even blinked. "I raised you all alone, taught you everything and now you can't even let me die happy?"

Vivika regarded him a long moment with her bold green eyes. She'd had enough of this.

"No, Father, you raised me for the first four years of my life and you were actually good at it, then you decided your drinking was more important and after that your entomology books raised me. I taught myself, I made sure the bills got paid, I fed us, I got kicked out of Cornell to come take care of a man who doesn't want to be taken care of. So get your own damn drink." A pause, small and hardly there. "You know the worst part? Hmm, do you? It's that all my life I've thought about killing you, of putting myself out of your misery and yet you go and kill yourself like the selfish bastard you are."

Vivika ground to a halt then as someone on the television muttered something she didn't hear, and her father stared at her. He'd always known about his daughter's dark side, the horrifying one that didn't seem to have a limit but she always kept the lid on it. Every now and again Vivika would let an evil smirk or a giggle at something terrifying slip free but when she paused the doors were thrown wide open, a grin spread across her face seemingly the birds out side fled like they did out in the woods when a predator neared.

"Oh perfect." She whispered to herself then fixed her devilish eyes on her father. "Don't you just love it when the most magical idea falls into place?"

She moved in closer to her father like a snake up a tree. Dylan's yellowy eyes watched Vivika as her right hand reached out for the cushion he'd used to prop his head on in his chair. She wouldn't … would she?

"Vivika?"

"Do you think anyone would even check?" She asked disturbingly quietly. "Do you think anyone could be bothered to? Or do you think they'd just write it off as another alcoholic getting what they deserved? I think it's the latter." Vivika gripped the pillow tighter and straddled him for better leverage. Dylan tried to push her away but the cirrhosis had left him weak, completely lacking in energy. "You thought you'd killed yourself but I managed to claw it back."

"Vivika-"

She cut him off as the cushion was pushed down over his mouth. He fought her at first, of course he did, but he was so weak, his energy had left him months ago shortly after he'd been diagnosed. Pushing at her did nothing to slow her down. There wasn't any stopping her, he tried to call out to her through the pillow, appeal to her better nature, but even Dylan Graves knew his daughter hadn't got one. In those last few seconds before darkness overtook him and his brain died still screaming for oxygen he realized no one would look for anything other than his cirrhosis as a cause of death.

"Bye, Daddy." She whispered to herself more than his corpse as she stood up.

Vivika looked at him a moment before she tucked the red cushion back behind his head. His yellow eyes hung open as she watched him. The raven-haired beauty grinned, now she'd get to clean the living room up and it would stay clean!

She couldn't wipe the grin off her face as she quickly took out all the glass bottles and vacuum cleaned. Vivika hadn't ever been a neat freak by any stretch of the word but her father's mess had always gotten to her, like a constant drip on the forehead, ever present and damning.

Once she'd finished Vivika returned to standing before her dead father and suddenly, and without warning started to hyperventilate, then the tears set in and before she knew it Vivika was sobbing and apparently mad with grief. Pleased she reached for the phone.