Title: Phoenix Rising

Author: colormecynical

Disclaimer: I own just a few characters but there use is minimal, all other characters that you recognize belong to their respective copyrights.

Rating: M; Violence, gore (?), language, implied sexuality, mentions of nudity

Summary: Hannibal King's life, death, and resurrection.

A/N: Thanks very much Kelly Tolkien and (especially) Meridian1 for their constructive criticism. Chapter One has been edited, and now accepts anonymous reviews, sorry guys, I didn't know it was disabled.
Consciousness slowly began to seep into in King's body. He sighed heavily, stretched his arms and legs, and allowed his eyes to slowly flutter open. He was aware of a few things: he was slightly hung over, needed a shower, and he wasn't alone. His eyes fell to the woman beside him. Something about the sight of her was just… wrong. He shivered when he realized how cool her skin was against his. She turned over in her sleep and snuggled deeper into her pillow. Something about her demeanor was almost childlike but still a sense of foreboding swept over him. It quickly shook the last tendrils of sleep from his mind.

Last night he couldn't place what it was that was so unsettling about her, but now he knew. Lying there, hand under a deceptively innocent cheek, she looked absolutely sinister. He quickly slid out of bed and held in his cry of triumph when she didn't wake.

He mentally slapped himself; he needed to pull himself together. He told himself that this tiny creature was harmless, but somehow it didn't bring him any comfort. Despite the warning bells in his head he made the five foot trek to the bathroom. He reached for the doorknob and as his hand grasped the cool metal, he glanced back at the bed where Danica sleep peacefully, her mouth turned up into a disconcerting smile.

Legs, hands, and heart quivering he pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold. His nostrils flared, and he immediately began fumbling for the light switch. As his fingers found and flipped the switch he simply couldn't hold back the sob of terror torn from his throat. "Oh, Christ…"

A young girl, no more than twenty, lay face down in a pool of her own blood, wrists and neck torn open. Her skin tinged blue and her scream eternally frozen on what had once been a pretty face.

He knew that if he were going to get out of here, he had to leave now. Looking back now, he could never understand how he convinced his legs into motion during his terror induced haze, but he did. In his haste, he turned right into the face he had once found so desirable.

He managed a few sobs and nonsensical words forth from his trembling lips, Danica silenced him by covering his mouth with her hand. He tried to resist but was overwhelmed by her strength as she held fast, palm cupped over his mouth, her nails raking into his cheek. She nodded in the direction of the corpse, "It doesn't have to be this way for you."

Honestly, he saw her beautiful lips move to form the words, but he could only focus on keeping the contents of his stomach inside his stomach. His head was spinning, he felt as though he'd never get enough air into his lungs, and it had very little to do with the delicate hand that now clutched his throat.

"You're afraid of death," she reached up her free hand to his cheek, "I can smell it on you," she than began to stroke the stubble and tightened the grip his throat when he recoiled. "You don't have to be afraid, take my hand." She gently removed her hand and King closed his eyes, when he opened them he had miraculously regained to ability to speak.

His eyes darted to the door, and it was a mere ten feet from where he stood. He could make it… as long as she was distracted… "What makes me different from her?" He whispered as he gave a pitying glance to the girl in the bathroom. She had to have been fresh out of high school.

She chuckled and winked lasciviously, "A few things."

"Somehow I don't think that it will be that simple." She looked confused for a moment, he elaborated, "ending it by just taking your hand." Her grip faltered on his neck for a second.

Danica looked into his eyes and he was shocked to see a momentary hint of sadness as she shook her head, but that was quickly replaced with something else entirely, he was almost unsure if he had seen the sadness to begin with. She began to explain with an almost child-like rapture, "No, but it is worth all of it. You'll be a step above the entire mortal coil and you will become who you were born to be, one of us!"

"And what exactly is that?" She giggled childishly and, as her lips parted he saw the elongated canines, he knew. She reached out a delicate hand to him…

And he spat on it.

He brutally shoved her into the wall and made a break for the door. His shaking fingers grasped the chain and attempted to slide it when ten talons pierced his flesh. She slammed him into the door and then hurtled him to the floor. In his hand the chain gave way, a few links spraying to the tacky green carpet.

He pulled himself into a sitting position and saw that the childish glint had left her eyes and left steel in its stead. He opened his mouth, he wasn't sure what he would have said to pacify her because he never got the chance.

Before he could inhale she had pounced. Her teeth ripped into his neck, shredding the tender flesh, he felt the blood begin to gush in a terrible red torrent. The pain was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. His body was on fire, not in a good way either, he opened his mouth to scream but all that came out was a red tinged bubble. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth and tears trickled from his fluttering lashes.

Danica raised her head from his neck and swiped lazily at the corner her mouth, clearing it of whatever blood remained there.

She grabbed King by his hair and pulled his gaze to her level. Her satiated eyes met his, opened her mouth to speak. His eyelids began to droop of their own volition. She quickly sealed her lips, stood and then turned to her pile of clothing.

She dressed calmly and efficiently, whistling a jovial tune, her behavior tremendously out of place amid the carnage of her own creation. She walked over to the mirror combed her fingers through her hair and plucked a piece of lint from her dress. She smoothed the silken material around her frame, satisfied with her appearance she turned and walked to the now cooling corpse of King. She gently pushed him out of the way of the door and opened it and crossed the threshold.

Heart thundering, King's fist reached for an assailant that was no longer there. Instead of flesh his fist was met with coarse material. At the obstruction his eyes snapped open but he still only saw darkness. He closed them again and willed himself to relax, he tried to even his breathing and slow his racing pulse but couldn't.

He tried to move but found he could barely maneuver more than a few inches. His fingers touched the coarse material that seemed to encompass him. He knew exactly what was brushing against his fingertips, his nose, and eyelashes. He had touched it before. He had touched it when he had to identify his grandmother's body. It had been ten years but that day seemed burnt into this memory and at the tender age of twelve he'd slowly walked towards that examination table…

'Shit. Shit. I'm in a fucking body bag… they think I'm dead… this is a nightmare… wake up King…'

He pinched his thigh. 'Fuck, I'm awake.' He thought of his mother, a genial and portly woman, had anyone called her? He had to call her, let her know everything was okay. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment and winced when he tasted copper. How was he going to get out of this one? He sighed and began to try and stretch at the bag around him and was shocked as it gave way. His sense of triumph was muted when he realized it was still dark and he was still cold. His fist connected with metal. In his anger he began to pound away at the metal, feeling it cave under the force of his knuckles and fingertips. He began to sob as terror overtook him. His fingertips were having trouble connecting with the walls of his tomb but he had to get out. 'Heaven help me… please… get me out of here.'

King was in a full fledged state of panic… he should have tired by now but for some reason felt stronger than he had ever felt. He stopped pounding for a moment and ran his hands against the cool surface above him. It had been nothing short of pulverized. Adrenaline does some weird things.

Whoa- Wait a second… he was moving, slowly but he was moving… he saw a sliver of light, 'Oh thank God, I'm not blind.'

He was on a slab… in the morgue… and some guy was pointing a gun at him. The full gravity of the situation threw him into a new fit of hysterics. Not tears but cursing.

Tunsen had never been so frightened in his whole life, if Johnny hadn't been at his side, gun steadily pointed at the drawer, he would never have gotten this close let alone opened it. When he pulled the slab out his fear was replaced with disbelief as John Doe sat up and rubbed his hands against his hairline and across his brow in attempts to calm himself. Eyes closed, John Doe was letting off a string of curses so foul that Johnny, who prided himself on being able to curse in four languages, found himself blushing.

Doe opened his eyes to see four eyes focused quite intently on him, "What?" He asked as if the two examiners should be perfectly accustomed to these situations…

"How?" Johnny began.

Andy saw the bloodied hands and spurred himself into action, grabbing a few towels from an instrumentation table and brought them over to Doe. He gently reached for Doe's hands which were promptly ripped away… "Hey, listen doc, not that I'm ungrateful or anything but I don't really swing that way…"

Andy smiled gently, "I'm just trying to help." He took Doe's left and began to wrap it. "What's your name kid?" He looked up from his work and saw Doe's reluctance to trust him.

"If I tell you, will you put the gun down?"

Andy pointedly glared at Johnny, but when he returned his gaze to King, his blue eyes were gentle.

Johnny smiled sheepishly and lowered the gun, subtly keeping it on the ready.

"Hannibal King."

"Andy Tunsen." He smiled again. They all fell into an awkward silence. "I'm sorry Hannibal, I have no idea what to say, I've never quite been under these circumstances before."

"That's okay," King said, smiling shakily, "Neither have I." King's eyes traveled around the room, his sight had never been so clear. He could hear the noise of traffic outside, he could hear Johnny's heart thundering from across the room. His eyes made their way back to Andy. Andy seemed genuine enough, his breathing beginning to even. King studied his face for a moment, gentle wrinkles, smile lines, crows feet. King found whatever he was searching for in the man's expression and let his eyes fall to his hands where Andy was gently working. He couldn't help but stare and the careful and precise movements of the hands before him. It was like he was experiencing everything for the first time and he found himself entranced by everything. He was so rapt by the mustard stain on Andy's shirt that when Tunsen spoke he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Johnny, the cops should be here any minute, go call for an ambulance, and wait for them to get here. We have to get Hannibal to a hospital." Johnny looked unwilling to leave Andy alone. At Andy's smile he nodded shortly, threw a glare at the shivering man sitting on the slab and followed his orders.

"What the hell is his problem?"

"Ignore him, he's a good kid, he's just looking out for me. I'm going to ask you a couple questions, alright?" At King's nod he continued, "What happened to you?" He sincerely hoped thar Hannibal wasn't involved in any of the drug problems plaguing the city.

He watched as the kid's brows furrowed, "I'm not exactly sure, but what happened doesn't make any sense…"

"I'll help you make sense of it."

"I was attacked…" King paused, he chuckled at the absurdity of it all, "by this tiny woman…"

Andy began to piece it together, 'Vampires.' Andy wondered if the change had gotten him completely yet. He moved to King's back where ten cuts waited open and angry. "How do you feel?"

"It's like my blood is on fire. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Andy found himself wanting to weep at the child dying before him. King felt Andy's hands stop their aid.

"What? Am I going to die?" He felt his voice quaver and he was immediately shamed by his weakness. He needed to pull himself together.

The tremor in the boy's voice broke Andy's heart once more. He closed his eyes. "You lost a lot of blood kid, by all rights you should be…" He broke off, "Don't worry, you'll be fine." He lied. He continued the pointless ministrations and watched as the angry wounds began to bind themselves together again.

"I'm not normally like this…"

"You don't have to explain yourself. You've been through a lot."

"Do you have a phone? I have to call my mom." King jumped down off of the slab obviously unashamed of his state of undress. King looked at the man expectantly but Andy was pale, his breathing short and uneven, King heard the unsteady beating of Andy's heart. He turned to the doors to see what had terrified him. He saw four very large men through the morgue's glass doors. King drew in a sharp breath and then all hell broke loose. Johnny was hurled through the doors, shattering glass. Johnny sailed into a rolling cart of instruments, and fell to the floor at an odd angle. He didn't get back up.

Andy barely had time to register what was happening until he saw a gun pointed in his face. He blinked and it was fired. A big hulking man with silver capped canines gripped King by the neck and began to use him as his own personal rag doll. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him again was the sight of the tiny she-bitch entering his life once again, balanced precariously on what he thought were rather dangerous looking heels. He seethed in hatred for the woman before him but didn't realize he wouldn't be rid of her for another five years.

Dex pulled into the darkened shipyard, the tires crushing the dried out weeds as he pulled off the road. Once the tires found their way onto the concrete path he lifted his foot from the accelerator and allowed the cruiser to coast past the broken machinery scattered across the yard. He chewed on the inside of his cheek glancing into the rearview mirror at the proverbial elephant that no one wanted to discuss. He found himself counting backwards trying to eliminate the red haze. He had to trust in Abby's instincts, she never had made a mistake before and she seemed certain about the… thing in the backseat. He breathed in a sigh of relief when he saw the vampire was still unconscious.

What was she thinking? Dex's eyes once again found her. Her entire demeanor revealed nothing as to why she'd rescued the vampire. In fact she was immersed in her bow. Her brows furrowed and eyes focused on a spot and rubbed at it with her sleeve unsatisfied she reached into her bag and searched for a cloth. The silence in the vehicle was overpowering. No one moved to break it.

He laid his head against the headrest and closed his eyes for a moment. Tonight had been tough, they had grossly miscalculated how many vampires would be in Phoenix Towers, and they nearly hadn't made it back out. The fight had been brutal. He smiled to himself; maybe he had killed that one vampire tonight, the one who ruined his life. The one who took his fiancé away.

He turned to Tony, who since leaving Phoenix Towers, had hurled his weapons bag under the dashboard. He was glaring contemptuously at Abigail via the rearview mirror.

Dex pulled the cruiser into the landing bay and barely had the car in park before Tony had flung open the door and jumped out. Abby petulantly blew a snort through her nose, "Asshole," she muttered angrily. Her voice softened when she turned to Dex, "Help me with him?" Abby nodded to the motionless vampire. He turned in his seat and looked warily at the vampire. She noticed the way his face fell, and for a moment thought he'd say no. He gave in with a sigh. His hand was shaking as he gripped the handle of the door.

"What happened tonight?" Sommerfield asked. For a moment she thought Abby would pretend she hadn't asked her anything. "Honey, it's me okay."

"They had him chained up like a dog."

"You've killed pets before."

"He begged me to kill him, Sommer."

"You've heard begging before."

"Why are you ragging on me about this? You wanted someone to test the cure on. I brought you someone."

Sommer barely contained her smirk, "Is that the only reason?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Sommer didn't even attempt to hide the smirk now. "We should probably restrain him, it isn't safe for him to be running around."

Abigail was tying him to the gurney when Dex entered, tight lipped and eyes on the floor. He simply walked over and methodically prepared the syringe and cleaned the soft tissue of King's inner elbow. He inserted the needle into the vein, perhaps a little harder than necessary, and noticed that the arm twitched. He looked up into the confused eyes of the restrained vampire as the EDTA began flowing through into his body. He finished as quickly as he could.

"I'm turning in, if you need me, you know where to find me." He left just as quickly. Sommer caught the quaver in his voice that either Abby didn't hear or ignored all together.

"What did you guys stick me with? My head is numb." The weary vampire asked.

"It was numb to begin with." Abby whispered, she was surprised when he chuckled. 'Damn vampire hearing.'

"I'm guessing that I didn't make too great of a first impression."

"Did my breaking your ribs give it away?" Abby deadpanned.

"Naw, it was the steel-toed boot to the chin." Sommer listened to the exchange with a smile on her face.

"Where am I?"

"Somewhere safe." Sommerfield hastened to assure him.

"What about Danica?"

"Who?"

"Oh, she's about 5'3, black hair, fangs, kind of skanky."

"She got away." Abigail broke in.

He looked devastated for a moment. "She'll come looking for me, this was a bad idea."

"Trust me, we are more than able to take care of her…" Sommer paused, deliberately pausing for a name.

"King." He supplied. He was restrained… again, and he had something forced into his blood stream that he didn't want in there… again. Just that knowledge was enough to make him want to weep… again. These past five years had been nothing short of emotional roller coaster and he wanted it done, he didn't care by what means, he was drained. He looked up and realized the blonde woman was looking at him expectantly. Shit. "I'm sorry, I was a million miles away."

"I was just telling that since that vampirism is a virus it can be treated. We aren't promising anything. It's never been tested on anyone who has had the virus any longer than a year or two. Your body may reject the EDTA altogether."

He nodded slowly. "What happens if my body does reject it?" He took in the way Sommerfield chewed on her lower lip for a moment. The silence in the room was overpowering. "Gotcha. Can we do the Q&A later though, I kind of want to be alone for awhile."

Abby turned on her heel, Sommer nodded and hit something on one of the numerous keypads scattered throughout the room, she flicked the light switch and shut the door behind her.

A/N: This story will not include King's EDTA treatment, Meridian1 wrote it wonderfully in "Coming Clean" and in no way will I attempt to encroach it's perfection. Thanks again for your suggestions and critique.