"Michel."

He groaned, throat painfully constricting. His back was slouched in an awkward sitting position and the cool air nipped at his uncovered fingers. Had he fallen asleep in front of the fire reading Chaucer again? He'd been doing that for years, much to the chagrin of his mother. She just couldn't see how Chaucer could put someone to sleep.

"Michel!"

A finger poked into his side. Half-heartedly he swatted it away. It couldn't possibly be time to get up. The voice calling his name was definitely accented English. One of the maids perhaps. He knew that voice.

"Don't make me roll you through the lobby on a trolley." She was clearly amused.

He wanted to wake up, but his eyelids weren't cooperating. His whole body felt heavy, exhausted with a tinge of sickness. And the pain. It was all he could do to keep his face neutral. He hadn't felt like this since…

Michel's eyes flew open. He reached up to rub his face, shocked when he felt sleep in his eyes. "I feel like a human." He said the last part with disgust as if it was the foulest curse.

"Being human isn't that bad." Kerry's eyes were sparkling with humor. Usually he'd say something to take that look out of her eyes, but it made his traitorous heart beat harder to see her smile at him. It was hard to be a cold bastard when he felt as if he could blush at her close proximity. "I'm human."

He shot her an incredulous look as she helped him from the seat. If he had the energy he'd brush her off. He wasn't some weakling who needed help. "It's bad if you haven't been human for over a century." A sharp twinge contracted in his gut. Michel inhaled through his teeth, slipping on a patch of ice. Kerry grabbed his arm to steady him and she gazed at him in worry. The Michel she knew wouldn't slip on ice.

The show was the least he could do to protect her from knowing his internal organs were rapidly failing.

"Over a century? How far over a century?" She carried on conversationally, showing a genuine interest in his age. He knew exactly how much older he was than she was. The phrase robbing the cradle didn't even cut it. Not that he'd robbed this particular cradle. Yet.

He smirked at her, pretending to be careful where he was walking so he wouldn't 'slip' again. Nonchalantly he slid his hand around her waist and was rewarded with a tiny gasp and shy smile. He could faintly discern her heart accelerate.

"For future reference, I never stay at Comfort Inn." He made the effort to open the door for her. It was an innate mannerism from his childhood. She shook her head in exasperation, shooting a quick glance towards the reception to make sure they didn't hear and take offence.

Michel's lungs wanted to refuse the gulps of air he needed just to walk across the lobby. They burned uncomfortably and he nearly passed out with the effort to keep yet another frailty from Kerry. He wanted her to remember him as invincible.

The door on the elevator whooshed shut. He leaned against the paneling as they rose to the fourth floor. Within moments the elevator doors whooshed open. He moved ahead of her, ensuring she wouldn't injure his pride by attempting to help him again.

"You're never going to tell me your age, are you?" Kerry moved down the hallway, jingling the room keys as she muttered the number under her breath. He noticed the door before she did. "We're lucky to get this room. Apparently the ski hill gets a lot of tourists over the holidays." She said to him, inserting the key in the lock.

"If you call this luck." He entered the room behind her, eying the cheap comforter and matching curtains with distain. In reality he'd stayed in worse, but it was fun to rile her. He was just thankful everything looked clean. The moment Kerry stepped into the bathroom and locked the door he gingerly rolled onto the bed, giving into the urge to cough.

The first cough was weak and pathetic, but within seconds they escalated into wracking heaves that shook his whole body. His lungs and stomach felt like they just buckled under. No air could enter, but blood was coming up. Finally the choking subsided enough for him to lift his head an inch.

Kerry was standing inches away, a visible angel bathed in the soft light from the opened bathroom door, looking at him in horror.

She reached over and wiped something off his chin. Showing him the smudge of blood on her innocent skin, she brought her hand towards her mouth. With speed and strength he wasn't sure he still possessed, he grabbed her arm and wretched it towards him.

"Don't." He ingested the blood himself, taking secret pleasure in licking it from her warm skin.

"You have to change me." Her eyes were pleading. She was terrified. The last time she had looked like that, she had been begging him to do the exact opposite.

"I'd rather die!" Michel responded violently. She backed away from his blazing eyes.

"You will die." Kerry replied, tears gathering in her eyes.

He knew he was dying. Just as he knew he wouldn't succumb to the pain and pressure to change her into a dark being like himself. Ruining Kerry wasn't an option. He'd be strong for her.

"… And then I will." She took a deep breath, continue on with her argument. "Once you die I'll be stuck in the memory of it. I won't be able to get away, Michel. It'll be all I'll see. I can't… live."

He shook his head, denying all she was saying to him. He understood what she was saying, he'd heard the urban legends, but it couldn't be happening now. He didn't like being choiceless.

"You were willing to once." She took his hand. "I was good enough for you once."

"No." He kept shaking his head. Didn't she know?

"Please." Kerry's voice became a whisper as the tears freely fell down her face. Michel pulled their clasped hands towards his chest, holding them against his pained heart as he carefully dragged her towards him in a loose embrace. Didn't she realize?

She was his only weakness.

Well, that's it. I don't particularly like doing this from Michel's POV, since we NEVER see that in CotN, but I couldn't see any other way. The audience had to know he wasn't being clumbsy or weak, it was all an act so Kerry wouldn't know he was agonizingly dying. I also wanted you all to know why he didn't want to turn her. I couldn't see Michel sitting down and explaining all this stuff. So, what do you think? Did I do Michel justice?

I don't think anyone could fully get into Michel's head; he's such a complex character. I think that's why I love him so much.

Right. So little one-shot continuations keep flitting through my head for this story, but I really don't like the writing in the beginning. We'll see.

Feedback... please? anyone?

©RelenaFanel2005