Hello. so, we're getting to business. I thank all those who reviewed, I live for your kind words ! And I also hope that this chapter does not disappoint. Cheers to you on this lovely week end.

A few hours passed, and Carlisle authorised his body to relax a little. The crazy woman was gone, her disappearance saving her life for he didn't know how long he would last without killing somebody. The sickening hunger was still there, gnawing at his entrails as the thirst tortured him, yet he dared not step out from his cave. His drowning attempt – thoroughly failed – had taught him a lesson. Carlisle could not kill the abomination he had become. Perhaps then, after many days of agony, he would eventually disintegrate and reach death. No creature could overcome starving, even if it took a hundred days.

Ô mighty God, what he would give to be dead! There were no words to express the hatred of himself, no amount of wailing or tears could ever be shed to excuse the sorry state he was in. For that was what he was, the poor excuse of himself, an empty shell inhabited by a monster, an ugly monster that awaited, prowling, for a prey to fall into its clutches. A monster than fed on other's blood, and extinguished it at the same time, stealing the lifeforce as their bodies got drained. Carlisle could not be 'this', his still and unbeating heart couldn't accept it.

The rushing of leaves and slight panting alerted him of something approaching. There was too much noise, like something being dragged on the floor. It couldn't be an animal, could it? The noise came, and stopped, but the panting didn't. Carlisle's red eyes narrowed, darkened by the hunger, his inner beast ready to leap out and pounce on the adventurous creature that dared offering itself outside. The vampire bit his lips in an attempt to control himself: they were hard as rocks, unrelenting, refusing to draw blood and give him the distraction of pain. The shuffle became so loud outside that he spread his arms against the rock, trying to anchor himself. To no avail. Just as he was about to bounce out of the cave, a voice addressed him.

- "Carlisle. I got you a snack. Sorry, it isn't as fresh as it should, but I'm not a very skilled hunter. Will you come out now?'

The vampire's frown increased, and so did his inner turmoil. Had he been human, the young man would have been trembling all over from the strain of not attacking that crazy woman.

- "Flee ‼! Flee before I kill you!" he bellowed.

- "Come out, we need to talk. I brought you something to eat first. Then you can hunt on your own if it is not enough."

- "Go away!"

The woman sighed, her voice exasperated as she continued:

- "You are being difficult you know. Listen, I have my sword, you need no be afraid to harm me."

At this, Carlisle let out a mirthless laugh, his inner beast distracted, for a little while, from his goal: draining her dry.

- "You daft woman, no blade can hurt me. I've tried."

- "Yeah, I know…"

She knew. Before he could process this vital information, her voice coaxed him again.

- "But believe me, this sword can. It's … erm, a little magic[1]. Listen, I'd love to make a demonstration, but I think you need to eat first, so you can think properly."

A growl erupted from him.

- "Don't tempt me, woman!"

That's it, the beast won the fight, and Carlisle darted from his cave at full speed, aiming for the woman. In his haste, he didn't see the carcass that lay on the floor, and his feet tripped over it. The scent of her blood nearly unleashed him, but another one, not as delicious, came from his feet. Confused, the vampire crouched protectively over the carcass. Stunned, Carlisle lifted his bloodshot eyes to the woman, only to find her a few feet backwards, a blade firmly set in his direction. The woman was wary, good. His empathy relished at seeing her armed, while his inner beast sneered; no amount of skill could save her from him. Or so he thought! And then, the most incredible thing happened. The redhead exhaled, as if meditating, and the blade in her hands, slightly curved, started to shine. As if the sun had elected to pour into the metal, the weapon nearly blinded him. Yet, it didn't deter her, as her hazel eyes, nearly turned golden by the light reflecting into them, did not stray from him.

The glint in her gaze made his inner beast recoil. Yes, he could feel the fear oozing out of her; the woman was not an idiot, and knew who, here, was the predator, and who was the prey. Yet, she didn't back down. In a swift move born of of habit, the red head drew her blade down upon a huge rock and … the rock was clived, each part falling to an opposite side. Carlisle's eyes widened, his outer brain struggling with his reptilian brain to take control. Her voice rang clear, the fear kept at bay by the strength of her tone.

- "This sword is like no other. It could kill you. If you so wish, I can grant death to you. But first, I want to talk. I brought you a deer. Eat"

The words hardly registered in his mind before his hunger took over. His inner beast knew not to advance on the woman and her magical sword. The cadaver at his feet, though, still emitted the faint smell of fresh blood. Before his mind could even register what he was doing, Carlisle bit through the fur, and quenched his thirst with long, big gulps.

Frances' hand trembled, fighting to keep her mind strained on the blade as Carlisle emptied the deer's veins from its blood. It was as disgusting at it was unsettling, but she could not dwell on the thought. Each time her spirit wandered away from the empowered state of meditation she had reached, the brightness of the blade flickered. If she let the magic of the Valar draw away from her sword, she'd be powerless to stop Carlisle. And quite frankly, she didn't think she could stop him, even with the blade humming: the vampire was too fast for her to follow. He could snap her neck in less time than it took to lift her eyes from the sickening display. Yet, she had to try. She owed him as much. And once his hunger was satisfied, he might be a little less jumpy, a little less dangerous.

Oh, she wouldn't get cuddly with him, that's for sure. But maybe they could talk, at least. Unless he reverted to call her daft, that is. This Carlisle was definitely less polite than his future counterpart, but hey, she'd be cranky too if she turned into a blood-sucking beastie. They'd be hell to pay, though, when she met Alice again. Sweet Alice; she had always known that Frances would be the one to get Carlisle out of his cave, didn't she? No pressure. The Keeper of Time sighed, concentrating again as her blade flickered. The sound alerted Carlisle who diverted his eyes from the deer, and let the carcass fall. Blood tricked down his chin, and Frances's grimace was enough for him to wipe it out with the back of his hand. Then he licked it from his fingers, his gaze considering. Damn vampires, so sensual, so deadly, so cold. Yuck!

Seemingly satisfied, Carlisle stood, a few sunrays hitting his skin. And then, something incredible happened as sparks erupted like a thousand little diamonds on his face. Frances' jaw grew slack, her meditation forgotten as her blade lost its glow. The young woman surmised that she had been fortunate; had she faced another vampire, her lapse would have killed her. But Carlisle didn't move an inch as she approached, lifting her hand before catching herself.

- "You are beautiful in the sunlight," she whispered reverently.

His eyes still contained a red hue, but they seemed to be changing to something more golden. His gaze, though, had softened.

- "And cursed…"

- "No, Carlisle. A cursed being couldn't be so beautiful in the light."

And Frances' thoughts flew to Legolas whose hair shone like the sun when its rays graced his beautiful features.

- "Can we speak, now, like civilised people?"

- "Aye. I think I can manage. But first, tell me the truth. Can you really end my suffering with this blade?

Frances nodded, her eyes serious, her whole being screaming that she never could sever Carlisle's head. No matter how different, how primitive, how threatening he was from the one she had known, she could never kill him. But the blade, technically, could cut through everything once she reached the right meditative state. She knew now, how to get in tune with the blade, how to contact its magic core and extract its mighty power.

- "Yeah. I think I can, albeit I would abhor doing so."

At this, Carlisle fell on his knees, his fair face lifting to the sky, his eyes closed in a rapture.

- "Thank you… Ô mighty God, thank you for answering my prayers!"

His distress was so intense that Frances' heart clenched painfully. There was a long way to go still. The young woman gave him a few moments to gather his wits, and pointed to the dead deer.

- "If you need to eat some more, there is a herd not so far from here. Well, not o far considering your speed. It took me long enough to drag that one here"

Carlisle took a moment to ponder the question, his eyes closing for an instant.

- "It should be all right. Your scent is manageable now."

Frances nodded, half reassured. She remembered, from their explanations eight years ago, that animal blood was less satisfying that human blood. To quell her fear, she tried to jest.

- "So, I'm no longer the steak, but a bar of chocolate at the end of the feast?"

Carlisle's handsome features contorted in a look of pure surprise.

- "Chocolate? I hardly require medicine"

At this, Frances chuckled, her cheeks reddening.

- "Damn, forgetting about the year … anyway. Are you well enough to converse with me?"

The young man cocked his head to the side, electing to stay silent but storing her little slip for later.

- "I am well. Thank you"

She didn't know if the thanks were for the deer she had dragged from the depth of the wood, or the fact that she didn't treat him like a monster. Still, she wasn't one to spit on the progress. The vampire sat, his fingers fidgeting with the carcass as he gestured for her to do the same. His upbringing was showing, now that the hunger didn't torture him so much, as he seemed to recover his manners.

- "Would you like to eat as well?"

Frances' eyebrows shot up to her hairline, her hazel eyes wide. For sure, there were 20 pounds of good meat awaiting her, but it wasn't a high priority on her list, and not a proposal she expected from him.

- "Er. Not that the idea repels me, bit I have no idea how to cook such a huge beast."

- "We could build a fire and put him on a stake."

- "Yeah … right. I've only eaten reindeer you know, in Bergen."

- "Bergen ?"

- "Yeah. Hanseatic city, in Norway"

Carlisle nodded, seemingly happy to be discussing foreign countries and geography. His culture was already quite impressive for a man his age, and calling this theoretical knowledge seemed to put him at ease. But they were not conversing over tea, and his next move crumbled the last piece of civility they had established as he grabbed the carcass.

- "All right. Then if you learnt from the Danish league, we can probably cut some filets…"

Frances jumped in front of the deer, suddenly repelled by the idea to skin such a lovely animal. Especially after the disgusting show she had just witnessed.

- "No! Er… I seem to have forgotten my frying pan at home…"

The sarcasm didn't go unnoticed, but Carlisle let it go. There were enough subjects to cover, especially her recklessness, and the fact that his hunger had been somehow satiated by a deer, rather than discuss her cooking utensils. As Frances dragged the furry carcass away from them, he narrowed his eyes at her. Something as off with her mannerism. And her clothes, as well as her speech.

- "How far is home, by the way? You are not from here."

- "Always so perceptive…" she shot back, smiling at her private joke.

Those were the exact words Dr Cullen had said to her as they met for the first time at the coffee machine, in Frok's hospital.

- "I fail to understand the humour in your words, my lady."

- "Don't! Please don't go that way, been there, done that, this 'my lady' thing gets old very fast. I'm Frances. Period. Plain, old Frances. Nice to meet you … again,"

Carlisle frowned at her implication; she was certainly nor old, nor plain. But it wasn't the most important word in her sentence. Frances didn't offer her hand as she sat a few feet away, trying to keep her scent to herself and not pollute his skin with hers. She had witnessed, firsthand, how fragile his control was.

- "Again?"

Frances sighed. This was going to be a difficult explanation.

- "Out of the frying pan, into the fire…"

The vampire's unsettling eyes bore holes into her, daring her to explain her odd manner of speech, to tell him what she meant. Carlisle was no fool indeed, but how ready was his 17th-century brain to accept something like time travel? Frances faced a difficult choice: to tell him the truth about the Keeper of Time, or to lie to him and tell him she was a seer, having visions of his future to convince him to make a unlife for himself. The second solution was flawed though, for two excellent reasons. The first one was that Carlisle, as a vampire, had gained a great deal of empathy. He might unmask her at once, and tell she was lying. Her whole pep talk would be for naught if he didn't trust her. The second one, a more twisted reason, was that he needed to give her the necklace in the future, to recognise her the keeper of time.

But if she told the truth, there would be at least one man … er, vampire, on this world, that knew the story of the Keeper of Time. And her true missions, and the power contained into the necklace. For more than 350 years, someone would have this knowledge. How safe could this be? Especially since Carlisle was an immortal being, and bound to meet very dangerous people? Would she condemn herself in the process, put her family in danger? The implications were endless. It was a fine line indeed, a line she got ready to walk with the mental agility of a cat. Frances gave a silent prayer to the Valar, the ones that had created the jewel in the first place, and chosen her as their champion. May they grant her the wisdom to reveal what was needed, and hide the rest carefully.

- "Your manner of speech really intrigues me, lady…"

- "Ah!" she cried in a magnificent impersonation of Jack.[2]

The reaction she obtained from Carlisle was quite similar to what Daniel used to do when confronted by a pissed Jack O'Neill. The vampire relented, his head nodding in acceptance.

- "Frances"

- "Better. Carlisle. You probably want to know how I know you, and how I know of your condition."

The vampire merely gazed at her, his whole being unmoving. Frances shuddered. The stillness was creepy; his eyes did not blink, his chest did not move, the shirt on his skin unaffected by the heart that should have been beating below his skin. His paleness, the red-golden of his eyes. He resembled a marble statue, a magnificent and very cold marble statue. Very dead as well. Frances had never pondered on the fact that, after all the weird situation of her life – meeting aliens, ascended beings, having friends that died and resurrected as easily as they ate breakfast[3], marrying an elf, coddling a hobbit, fleeing from a Balrog or gutting orcs – she never came across a dead being. A talking, living dead being. And all those little things that no one lingered on became blatantly missing. Unconsciously, her mind was searching for all those signs, and it sent her a message of alarm, an unsettling feeling of danger because of their absence.

- "You forget the most important point," came his melodic voice.

Frances' eyebrow twitched.

- "Which would be?"

- "Who are you?"

Coldness crept into Frances' bones. The Keeper of Time felt exposed, and she had to remind herself that Carlisle Cullen was a friend, a defender of humanity, a good man … no, vampire now. There was no turning back now.

[1] The sword was forged by Glorfindel, see 'innocence's journey' story. Its magic, though, is only discovered by Frances many years later in the crossover 'the last samurai/Ruroni Kenshin'. It is not posted yet.

[2] Stargate SG1, one of her best friends in 2010.

[3] Daniel Jackson again, Stargate SG1