-/-
It wasn't difficult for Anderson to gain access. This was hardly his first time in a morgue, considering the line of work he had found himself in, after his retirement from the force and his previous career in forensics. The coroner had already finished his examination, and the death certification for Lucy Westenra had been filled out. The family had probably been notified and would be sending their own mortician soon; as such there was a limited time in which they could remove the body.
Body snatching was not the most glamorous of careers, but it paid the bills.
And Anderson liked to think there was something almost heroic about saving the undead from a truly terrible fate. The idea of being burnt alive was horrifying, and not something anyone should have to go through.
It wasn't difficult for their technician to hack into the computer system, and complete the appropriate release forms for the body, nor to file the appropriate physical paperwork in Lucy's file; all that needed was a simple lock pick. Of course, the family might protest and demand an investigation, but a forged agreement that stated Lucy had signed her body over to science two years before, normally stopped the police from digging. It was a false paper trail and the overworked police would be chasing their tails…if they even bothered to investigate.
Of course, if Lucy didn't rise, then there were ways to return her body to her family after a suitable period, in a closed casket.
Yet as Anderson and his team worked silently and efficiently, Anderson couldn't help but fume that none of this would be necessary if not for Count Dracula. This poor girl would be getting ready for her wedding, not her probable funeral. It made the former police officer in Anderson burn with rage. He was supposed to punish the guilty, and here he was covering up the man's crimes.
Accidents occasionally happened, it was inevitable with vampires and mortals living alongside one another. Yet vampires like Captain Van Helsing had proven that with will power, new technology, and contributions to blood donation and banks worldwide, there was no justification in killing to eat anymore. Dracula had no excuse for this, and Anderson only wished he had the power to bring the man to justice. Anderson would have loved nothing more than to stake Dracula on Lucy Westenra's behalf, on Tommy's behalf, on Agatha's…
And yet without Dracula, his Captain would have died forgotten in a Budapest convent 75 years before he was born, and he would never have met her. She had saved him, given him a purpose, and his dignity back, and Anderson would admit in private, to nursing a small crush on his superior. Not that the Captain would ever look at him in that way. In truth she had never seemed to look at anyone in that way, and Anderson had accepted it, happy to be there as her good right arm, if nothing more.
Then he came back…Dracula, turning everyone's worlds back upside down; looking at and demanding the Captain's time and attention like he had a right to it…and she, she gave it, she gave it willingly, seemingly as obsessed with the Count, as he was with her…and that bothered Anderson more than any of Dracula's taunts could ever do. Didn't she realise she was too good for the likes of Dracula, that he was unworthy?
"Sir…"
"Are we ready to move out?" Anderson asked, relieved when the others nodded.
It was time to take Ms Westenra to her new home…Anderson zipped up the body bag and helped the others transfer the body to a trolley. Such a pretty girl…it was such a damn shame.
-/-
"What exactly is she doing?"
Of all the things Dracula had been expecting when Mycroft called, and let him know they had located Lucy Westenra. Well her body at least, and would he like to check in; Dracula hadn't expected to be greeted by the sight of Agatha straddling Lucy's corpse.
"Her job." Anderson retorted bluntly. He had no desire to share physical space with the Count, but Mr Holmes had brought him in as his guest, and the Captain didn't need any additional distractions. Although Anderson had confessed to a flicker of delight, when the Captain had all but ignored Dracula, and focused solely on her newest charge.
"Yes, but what does her job entail exactly?" Dracula demanded, turning from Anderson, back to Mycroft. "Doesn't anyone here understand what she is doing?"
"She is attempting to make contact with Ms Westenra." Mycroft added. "I am afraid I do not understand the specifics Count; the mental arts were never one of my gifts. Although I am given to understand you are similarly gifted?"
Blinking in surprise at that answer, Dracula resolved to discuss the matter in detail with Agatha later. It sounded fascinating. "Are you telling me Agatha can talk to the dead?"
"No, she can talk to a trapped vampire." Anderson finally conceded to explain. "It takes a great deal of effort, and skill, and she is unique in her abilities, but it does require quiet and concentration. If you cannot contain your curiosity perhaps you should leave?" He added with a pointed glare.
"Mycroft, I don't think the Sergeant here likes me very much." Dracula sighed, as if genuinely disappointed.
"I can't imagine why…" Anderson muttered under his breath, knowing that vampire hearing would pick it up, and not giving a damn that he would.
"Oh, I can imagine why." Dracula replied with a grin that was bordering on dangerous. Leaning in his grin only grew as Anderson flinched, whispering in his ear. "And I might advise you get over those impossible fantasies of yours. I do not share Sergeant."
"Share? You aren't even a consideration." Anderson hissed back.
"Oh, I very much am." Dracula replied with certainty, and for a moment he almost thought the human would cave to his goading and react with violence.
"Gentlemen perhaps now is not the best time for this." Mycroft interjected diplomatically, nodding towards the lab table where Agatha was attempting to make contact. Anderson was right about one thing, Agatha didn't need the added distraction of trying to block out her bickering suitors…not that she would recognise them as such, for such an intelligent woman she really was most adorably stupid about somethings.
-/-
The first sign Agatha had, was that there was something there to make contact with. After she blocked out the lab, the conversation in the corner, the cold steel of the table under her palms. There was still something there, and Agatha reached out for that thread, mental finger tips ensnaring it, winding it tighter as she followed it down…down…
The room was dark when she opened her eyes, only the stub of a candle illuminated the space, and yet Agatha didn't need much light to recognise where she was. The swell of the sea and wood panelled walls, the oh so familiar bed curtains…this was her cabin…cabin number 9 aboard the Demeter. The only thing that was different from her imprisonment here, was that she was not alone.
Curled up in the far corner, arms wrapped about her knees, head buried against them…"Lucy…Lucy Westenra."
On hearing someone speak Lucy's head shot up, blinking through her tear and mascara stained face, as if she struggled to see Agatha at all.
"Is someone there…D is that you?…Please let me out…I don't like it here."
Creeping into the light Agatha forced a smile, watching as Lucy shot up from the bunk, wiping at her cheeks, as she stumbled towards her.
"I thought I was alone…I screamed and screamed but no one came." Lucy's words stumbled over the other in her panic, reaching out to grasp Agatha's arm as if to prove she was real, and she hadn't finally gone mad.
"You are not alone…not anymore." Agatha clarified, her eyes raking over the younger woman's face.
The corpse Anderson had delivered, had shown signs of beauty, but standing here in front of Lucy, Agatha was struck by just how beautiful the girl was. Dracula was a collector of some discernment, first Johnathon Harker with his unquenchable spirit and stunning blue eyes, Tommy with his strength and physical perfection, and Lucy with her beauty and apparent magnetic personality. In such company Agatha felt quite inadequate, like the awkward step child that took after the uglier parent.
"Thank God, can you get me out of here? This prank lost its humour hours ago." Lucy sniffed, her confidence returning now she was no longer alone. "Oh god look at me." Lucy added, catching sight of her reflection in the dressing table mirror. "I look a total fright."
"I can get you out of here Lucy, but how will be complicated and take some time I'm afraid."
"Why did D shove you in here too?" Lucy snorted, her eyes narrowing as she took in the skinny older woman in front of her, with her thin face and slightly protruding teeth; she hardly looked like D's type, but Lucy supposed he might have been desperate.
"I am acquainted with Count Dracula." Agatha offered, moving to take a seat on her former bunk. Running her hands over the rough blankets, it was hard not to drag her own memories into this re-enactment. "And in a way he did send me."
"Well if you see him before I do, tell him I am seriously pissed with him." Lucy cut in, reaching for her clutch purse and doing what she could with her limited make up to fix her face. "So did he snack on you too? Or do you work for him like that ratty little man...Rodent…No Rendont…"
"Renfield." Agatha supplied. "And I suppose in a way I do 'work' for him. He is my Elder."
"Only just judging by the look of you…No offence or anything." Lucy offered with a bright smile that normally got her off the hook with everyone. "So how did you two meet? Was it Tinder? He really is such a tart, picks up all sorts from there…"
"No, I met the Count 123 years ago at my Covent in Budapest, when he slaughtered every one of my sisters, took me captive and later murdered me."
"Oh, bummer." Lucy blinked, not sure how anyone was meant to follow that. "So, you're like D then?" She asked curiously. "You know a…"
"Vampire, yes." Agatha replied flashing a toothy grin of her own. "And now Lucy Westenra so are you."
"Me?" Lucy scoffed, shaking her head in denial. "No, I'm not, because you have to be dead to be a vampire…and look I'm alive, Lucy pressed her fingers to her wrist, her triumphant smile slowly melting from her face, as the expected heartbeat never came.
"No…No, no, no…This is not happening, I can't be dead, I'm supposed to be getting married in two weeks, everything is arranged..."
"I'm sorry you must have loved your fiancé very much."
"Wha…Quincy…yes of course I loved him." Lucy snapped back. "He's handsome, fun and rich…and he worships me."
"Sounds like the ideal man." Agatha replied, unable to completely keep the sarcasm from her tone.
"Says the nun, what is wrong with a husband loving a wife more than she love him? Like you're an expert; what man ever wanted to marry you?"
Her lips twisting in amusement, Agatha brushed off the insult, as she recalled other scenes that took place on this ship. "You'd be surprised."
"I bet I would be." Lucy sniggered, before her thoughts turned back to herself. "Wait this being a vampire thing, does that mean I won't ever age?"
"Of all the things you ask about being undead, that is the one you pick?"
"Don't judge me Miss high and mighty, it's a valid question. I mean I already know all about the drinking blood stuff from personal experience."
Agatha had to concede that was a fair point, even if Lucy could have put it more politely. "As long as you feed regularly, then no you won't age."
"Well that shouldn't be a problem for me." Lucy postulated, knowing that she would have a far easier time on Tinder than even D did.
"It won't be a problem because we will ensure you are fed." Agatha added. "Fed and housed and educated…Once you wake up of course."
"What are you talking about I am awake now!"
"No, you're not, you are dreaming now; your mind is trapped in your body, think of it like being in a coma."
"And how long will I be like this?" Lucy demanded slamming her hand down on the dressing table.
"That depends on you. You've only been dead a couple of days, for some that's enough, for others it can take a week, maybe ten days."
"Ten days! I can't be stuck in here for ten days."
"Look on the bright side Lucy, at least you're not being cremated." Agatha deadpanned, taking a little more pleasure than she should have, when the younger woman finally realised how serious this was. "Well I suppose I will be going then."
"Going. You can't go, you can't leave me here on my own." Lucy panicked, reaching across she grasped Agatha's arms, the confident narcissistic façade dropping, revealing the real, very insecure face of Lucy Westenra. "Please…Please I'm begging you, don't leave me here on my own."
Sighing Agatha relented, her defences weakening in the face of a terrified child. "I promise to come back. I will only be a couple of minutes, but I need to tell my friends what is happening and make arrangements for the next few days."
"You promise to come back?" Lucy repeated, her fingers digging into Agatha's arms, determined not to let her leave if she didn't promise.
"I give you my word as a Van Helsing Lucy Westenra. I will stay by your side until you wake in the real world." And with that Agatha released her hold on Lucy's mind, and allowed hers to return to her own body.
-/-