-/-

He was dying...again.

The lights of London seemed to blur in front of his eyes and Dracula wasn't sure which would happen first, that he would pass out, or throw up, or both? The only thing that he could almost concentrate on, was the bobbing figure of Agatha in the distance. She was a good fifty yards or so in front of him, never closer or further away, and this Dracula took as a sign she still loved him; as it certainly wasn't him keeping pace.

It felt like forever but eventually they made it to the front door of Agatha's apartment block. Never before had Dracula been so pleased to see her pathetically small apartment. He dragged himself up the stairs, hand on the handrail, as the world about him seemed to swim. When Agatha opened the door, Dracula headed straight to the bathroom. Clutching the toilet like a lifeline Dracula threw up what he could. Never ever again.

Watching from the doorway Agatha tried to be sympathetic, he really did look ill, then the memories of the night before resurfaced, and she shoved it back down. It wasn't that he had been out late that really bothered her. Agatha had originally intended to stop over with the girls at headquarters, but after her disagreement with Lucy, Agatha had wanted the security that being near Dracula gave her. So, she had returned and let herself into his apartment.

A lovely bubble bath in his huge tub, a glass of something nice from his decanter, wrapped up in his t-shirt and laying in his comfy bed, Agatha had been relaxed but lonely. So, she had texted him, and nothing. At first, she just dismissed it, he was probably playing nice with important people, but as the night dragged on and she didn't get any acknowledgement at all. Agatha couldn't help but worry, so she sent another text, then she called him and left a voicemail.

Worried if she kept this up, she would come across like a stalker, Agatha tried her best to sleep. Yet in reality she watched the clock, hours ticked past and Agatha grew more and more concerned. So, she sent another text, and then two more calls, and still nothing…

Finally, at around five he did call, and Agatha could barely contain her relief and then her anger. All this time she had been worried sick, and he had been out there living it up? Getting into who knew what trouble, but judging by the state of him, something that would have consequences. Consequences that her, and Mycroft, and the others would also have to live with.

Leaving Dracula to suffer in the bathroom, Agatha headed into the little cubbyhole that doubled as a kitchen. Agatha didn't care that it was small, it wasn't like she needed to cook anything anymore. Checking out her fridge, Agatha frowned at the rather pathetic contents. She had been staying over at Dracula's apartment more and more. As such she hadn't been keeping her own fridge stocked, and there was only a couple of blood samples left.

Knowing that Dracula would need several more if he was to purge all the polluted crap he had put into his body, Agatha resigned herself to going hungry this morning. Pouring one of the samples into a comedy mug, Agatha warmed it quickly in the microwave, only a few seconds to take off the chill, as otherwise it was likely to hit his sensitive stomach and come straight back up again.

Mug in hand Agatha made her way back to the bathroom. Not surprised to find Dracula still in the same position, his shoulders now shaking as he dry heaved. Setting the mug down on the sink, Agatha turned on the shower, stripping off her own mussed clothes and after easing Dracula away from the toilet, did the same with his t-shirt. Underneath his chest was stained, and hair matted with blood. It looked like he had bathed in it. Knowing Dracula was too heavy even for her to manhandle Agatha slapped his face, a quick tap, albeit a little harder than usual to get his attention.

"Shower now." Agatha commanded, offering her help for him to stand, as it seemed his legs were protesting after both the night before, and the four-mile run.

Somehow, they managed to get him to swing his legs over into the tub, but there was no way Dracula could stand. So instead he ended up sitting under the shower. Agatha detached the shower head from the wall and brought it down to run over him. She washed his hair with her scented shampoo, making sure to get all the blood out, but not indulging him either. The rest of him she scrubbed at with her loofer, pink tinged lemon scented water gurgling down the drain. Once Dracula was as close to clean as she was going to get him. Agatha gave herself a quick rinse down as well; the morning shower doing more to wake her up than anything else.

Leaning against Agatha's thigh, Dracula sighed, for the first time this morning he felt slightly better. He would feel even better, when he knew just how much of the doghouse, he was in. Agatha wasn't speaking, which even he knew was a bad sign, but she was still taking care of him, which was surely a sign she wasn't about to throw him over.

Feeling the touch of his head against her thigh, Agatha couldn't help but reach down and run her fingers through his wet hair, the need to touch him proving stronger than her anger. "What happened?"

"Honestly I don't remember much." Dracula answered honestly. "I went to Gilles party, then we went to a club and bumped into Sir Richard and his little group…" Dracula paused, trying to concentrate and remember anything else. "Then I woke up this morning, Baron de Rais was still there and the apartment we were in…it looked like a battlefield. He told me I had ingested blood from humans who had been taking drugs…I don't remember anything Agatha, but I swear I didn't know what I was doing."

Withdrawing her hand Agatha couldn't believe what she was hearing, to lose control was bad enough, to do it in front of that snake Baron de Rais…

"Would it help to say I am very very sorry." He started, disappointed when Agatha pulled away from him and got out of the shower. She wrapped herself in a towel and began to quickly towel dry her hair.

"I take it that is a no then?" Dracula added, attempting to inject just a hint of levity into the situation, a mistake judging by the glare he got in exchange.

"It's not enough to be sorry, we have deal with this before it is out of our control, not just us but Mycroft too, he will need to know how to handle the situation…if it even can be handled." Agatha added bitterly. "You need to get out the shower and get dressed; I can get Mycroft to meet us here or at your apartment, but we need to move quickly."

"Agatha…"

"I am not joking about this. Things like this don't get hushed up in the twenty-first century, it will be all over the news and social media the moment a police cordon is sighted. If your image has been picked up by the CCTV, then the Elder council will insist on you going into exile for at least twenty-five years. They don't take the threat of exposure well, it's one of the few things they might even kill you for. We need to step in now to stop that happening." By the time she was finished Agatha was practically yelling.

She was angry with him for being such an idiot, but she was terrified too. Agatha had lived just fine most of her whole mortal and immortal life without him, yet in a matter of weeks he had made it impossible to imagine a future without him in it. Exile would be bad enough, at least then she could hold on to the thought of getting him back, eventually, but undeath was final.

"Agatha!" This time it was Dracula who raised his voice, clambering out of the bath, somehow forcing himself up to his full height as he approached her. "Calm down!"

"Calm…" Agatha couldn't believe his nerve, the urge to hit him, until he felt as badly as she did bubbled up, and Agatha had to force it down; violence was never the answer. Instead she turned away from him, holding her head in her hands. "How could you be so stupid? Do you have any idea how it would destroy me to lose you?"

The anger that had been building all but evaporated as he saw Agatha's struggle to control herself. Dracula had expected her to be cross with him, he never expected to see her scared for him.

"Dearest." Dracula tried gently, resting his hands on her shoulders, trying to massage out some of the tension. "Whatever you think is best, of course we can call Mycroft."

"He might think it would be best to get you out of the country." Agatha confided, even though the idea of it filled her with dread. "Even if we can intercept the cctv footage before the police, that might not be enough to save you."

It would be all too easy for the police to follow the trails from the apartment to the club, if it was one Dracula frequented like he had in the past, then they would find someone who knew him, might even gain the card details he used to pay for reserving his private booths. Of course, there was one other option, one of last resort for a vampire, when they wanted to shake off the interest of mortals…play dead.

"There is another option." Agatha added, more to herself than Dracula. "But it would involve some serious play acting, and we would need to replace the coroner so they wouldn't accidentally try to cut you open."

"Can I please state now how much I do not like the sound of this option." Dracula began, only for Agatha to stare him down. "But of course if it is necessary…"

"You might not have much of a choice. We would need to make it public, plenty of eye witnesses. A blood-soaked man taking a leap off of one of the bridges would certainly convince people."

"You want me to fake a suicide?"

"It would work, it has worked in the past. A public death, a replaced coroner, a quick release of the body to distant family, a private sham cremation and the vampire spirited out of the country, to live very quietly for a while somewhere remote…and you did say how Renfield would need your input on the renovation."

"Yes, but I meant to visit for a long weekend not years." Dracula scoffed. The idea of going back to living in that castle for an extended period of time filled him with dread, yes it was his family home and he was proud of its legacy, but it was hardly the place that anyone would choose to live permanently. "Before you make solid plans to send me away, can we please call Mycroft and see what he says?"

Retrieving her phone Agatha offered it to him, this was his call, but honestly Agatha didn't see any other way of resolving this, not without risking the wrath of the council. Voluntary exile was bad enough, but vampires normally didn't come back from the places the Elders chose to send them.

-/-