Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal.
Apologies for the extra delay as real-life got a bit out of hand. Fair warning of some very adult content heavy material ahead. I hope it was worth the wait.
The vial lay gently cupped in her open palm, rather small and plain. The persistent rain had abated somewhat, spent from its downpour. Overhead, the wind rustled through the trees, leaving fallen droplets in its wake.
Hal was deathly still without making a motion towards what was offered.
What remained of her life's blood, small and plain, sat between them.
Alex gave an awkward laugh. She felt oddly rejected, even though she knew she shouldn't. "What? Is it stale or something?"
"I'm quite certain that it is."
"Oh," she pursed her lips, then frowned.
Hal's hollowed eyes flashed to hers. "You were free, Alex. If I take this…"
"Hal," she started, but then stopped, unsure how to loosen the seed of doubt and argue with him further. Hal shook his head, eyes travelling to the tree behind her.
"If I take this," he waved towards the vial in her hand, "you will be bound to me again. And I to you."
"If it works," she countered with sad realism.
"If it works," he acknowledged.
Silence stretched between them once more, his eyes intent upon the glass. Or rather, the dark line of red that light barely passed through. Hal started an irritated pattern of tapping his fingers in succession against his thumb, then with a shaky breath, he stopped, fist pressed to his thigh.
"Do you truly want this? We weren't given a choice, last time." He met her eyes once more.
"Do I want you, you mean? Really, Hal?" Alex smiled. The damned man was five centuries old and still such an idiot. She reached for his hand, knowing that all he would feel was an icy tingle. "I do."
"You do know that it will mean -"
"I do."
"Say that thrice and I may believe that you mean it," he scoffed under his breath.
"I do," she whispered and lifted her open palm with the small vial of blood towards him. They held each other's gaze, poised between action and non-action, until he swallowed. Hal released her fingers to reach for the offered vial. His hand trembled when he took it from her, then his fist tightened around it to steady himself. He gave a determined exhale.
Slowly, so she didn't startle him, Alex raised her hand to his neck. Her fingers wove through his hair as she focused her attention in an attempt to lend him strength. Hal clenched his jaw, then with one decisive flick of his thumb, he pried off the rubber stopper and closed his eyes. He trembled under her touch, his nostrils flaring with everything his body was tuned into. Alex tuned everything into him. To taste, to feel, to support him - all of it.
Delicately, he raised the thin glass to his lips, then tilted it to take a mouthful. The sharp and sudden intensity of flavour flooded through Alex, bitter and metallic against the back of her throat. Her blood was thick and dead, and yet Alex could see how it burned like a brand through his sternum, forcing his incisors to drop into fangs with a gasp. He quickly downed the rest, face tilted to the sky to coax lose what little remained in the vial. When it was all gone, Hal's eyes flashed open to an inky black.
The glass crashed to the stone and rolled off, and Hal winced his blackened eyes shut with a tensed gasp. His hands turned to tight fists, fighting against the battle of hunger. Alex hugged her arm over his shoulders. "Hal?" she asked worriedly, but he did not respond as he ground his fists against his thighs, struggling to breathe. Alex stood and embraced him, holding his shaking frame as if she could contain this. As if she could contain him. He dropped his head lower. She was reminded of a drunk, trying desperately not to heave. "Shite, Hal?"
He trembled beneath her embrace. Then, in one cruel burst that sent her backwards, he pushed her away and was off running.
In a detached shock, Alex watched him leave. The second it took to recover from her bewilderment was a second too late. Shiteshiteshite! She leapt after him.
The hunger - it was too close, and her blood was such a small amount. Hal had launched pel-mel, hell bent, into the hunt. He sped through the tall grass as if his life depended on it. As if the hounds of hell were spurring him on. To the road. To the car. To the nearest human possible. If she failed to stop him, she knew - just knew - their chance would be lost forever.
They had run together dozens of times, flushing the vampire out with their practised chase. Alex had experience outrunning Hal, but she couldn't afford to take any risk. There would be no strengthening conquest of will for him this time. There would be no coming down, and no coming back. Hal wasn't chasing her, but fleeing. Starved and desperate, the vampire had already been too close to winning. Hal had known - he had tried desperately to end himself before it was too late. And in her free-falling heartbreak she had repeated the very same mistake she had made last night! She should have contained him first. She should have gotten him somewhere safe. She should have given a shred of thought to how bad-off he really was to have even come here.
But she couldn't think of that now. Now, all she could do was run after him. The wet grass parted, allowing him to speed past. She phased through it but couldn't seem to gain any ground. He was running brutally fast - predator fast. Hal held himself in check most of the time, but that couldn't erase the fact that he was a supernatural being. One who could push his once-human body beyond the restraints of human fatigue.
A lance of terror shook through her with the realisation - Hal had fed. Hal had drained someone just yesterday. Hal had killed someone, and he was no longer weakened, whilst Alex was. Hal could escape her.
And he knew this territory. Hal headed straight out of the clearing and onto a dense path, vegetation whipping by them. Alex raced after. She could see the outcome clearly - this path would lead to a trail which would lead to a road that would lead to humanity. Any nearby home or farm and Hal would fall into unspeakable carnage. The memory she had been privy to of his failure on Grimsay flashed before her eyes - that gruesome reveal of bone, bare of flesh. Not just death, but utter decimation.
Alex knew she had to restore their bond and NOW. Hal didn't want this. She had just promised that she would help him through, and she would. If she could find her way back, then she could stop him. She would hold him down by sheer force if she had to.
Mid-step, Alex locked her concentration on the dark flash racing ahead of her. With an impulsive tug, she rent-a-ghosted.
For one infinite second, they fused into a desperate scream of hunger and fight. Of push and pull, light and dark, chaos and control. And heartbeat. Underneath it all. Primal, terrible, beautiful. The vampire embraced that wet, exquisite sound. The vampire embraced her.
The fight turned to an opening flood. A tidal wave of power crashed down to a funnel of memory. Of all the lifetimes crammed together that shouldn't be. It all was spinning too fast. There was just too much. The lurching of ships and storms, chaos of battles and blood, contrast of beauty and death, the velvet seduction of destruction. Ultimate power warred with ultimate loss, a whirlwind of experience, a tornado of regret and pain without end, spanning months-years-decades-centuries-ALWAYS and -
The smile of a kind face. Of sunrise over a dewed valley so peaceful it could stop time. Of laughter and candlelight. Of friendships long past. Of Leo's. Of Tom's. Of her.
Flung from the melee, Alex caught hold of the familiar. Alex caught hold of herself. She dredged free, pulled her mind clear of the tornado and came up gasping, clinging to earth.
The present world snapped back into place as they tumbled through the underbrush and crashed, a stunned Hal catching the edge of her jacket as he fell on top of her. His eyes brimmed with tears in wide surprise. For one frozen moment, Alex held her breath. Hal quivered, a tremor shaking through him. His lip trembled as he tightened his grip on her jacket. On her jacket…
The bottom dropped out of the universe when his shaky fingers touched her face.
Her senses flared back into focus all at once as he jerked away, his hazel eyes searching hers. The sodden ground beneath them felt suddenly hardened, and a stick had her in the ribs. The loamy sweet scent of the wet earth nearly brought Alex to tears with its richness. She breathed in deeply, still unsure if it was real. Hal's inhale was staggered, unsteady. She moved her hand to cover his and his fingers automatically widened, allowing hers to slip through. His breath shuddered again, all the way through to his stomach.
Still disbelieving, she tightened her grip on his hand, feeling the solidity of their touch. The agony of having known and lost was still so close, so present. Yet her pulse hammered their truth against his palm as she held him to her. She wouldn't let go.
Not now, after all this. Not ever.
In this poised moment, their faces were nearly touching. In the grey light, with green all around them, Hal's astounded yet clear gaze was more beautiful than a thousand sunrises. His fingers tightened their grip on her hand. The pressure was almost painful, yet it was still not close enough. After the emptiness, after their separation, the feel of his fingers was a gift.
"Ye gawds, did it work?" She breathed the question, giving voice to the disbelief on his face.
With a staggered exhale, Hal moistened his lips and swallowed. Then, he kissed her. The intensity was quick. He tasted sharp, metallic. He tasted of her. His hand holding her jacket tightened, knuckles pressed into her heart as they kissed with the depth of everything between them. With all that had just passed, and had nearly been, and had nearly been concluded. There would never be enough of this. There would never be anything greater than this - the two of them in this tumbled moment in woods, grateful and hungry for the mere touch of the other.
And just as suddenly, he stopped and pulled away. Hal turned his face into her shoulder, catching his breath, and mumbled, "Sorry. That is probably a bit strong."
She huffed a relieved laugh at his embarrassed concern for the blood on his breath. His awkward apology merely meant that she had been right. Whether it had been from slamming into him or the effect of her blood, rekindling their bond had shaken the hold of hunger. She had pulled him back from the brink and grounded him. Her relief spread like warmth and suddenly, Alex couldn't take it anymore - she had to touch him. She had to feel him more. She had to verify that he was still really here. Alive, and steady. Constant, and always. She cupped his rain-wet face with her hands.
With the dawn of a smile she prodded, "Hal?" and kissed him back. Blood on his breath be damned. Their embrace ignited a shivery heat between them. Their desperate, drowning kisses flared flames to fire. She bracketed his hips with her knees and his moan was a sudden and yearning vibration into her mouth.
"Thank bloody Christ, it worked?" She asked again, between heartfelt kisses, holding him to her. "Oh Jesus - how much time do we have? Before..." Lacking a better way to describe his madness of withdrawal, she bared her teeth and mock hissed against his lips.
His response was gruffly lustful. "Not nearly enough." He kissed her again, all deep and full and without reservation. She was lost in feeling the weight of him, of being so blissfully thankful he was still here - that they had saved each other - that she almost didn't register when he stopped with a barely-controlled shudder. "We didn't consummate it this early. Before."
Flabbergasted, Alex caught her breath and raised an eyebrow. "What? You want to wait? Bite me if you have to - I don't care. We can tie you to the bed," she grinned, keeping her grip on him firm.
"But the car…"
"Rook has people to fetch his bloody car! I'm pretty sure he'd rather that than have to clean up a trail of your munchies on the way back," she teased, but no longer was really concerned. She could feel just how truly he was back.
He gave an indignant huff, "I would not-"
She stopped his protest with another kiss. And before he could say otherwise, she took them home. They landed with her back cushioned by their bed and she immediately got to work peeling free his rain-soaked shirt.
Hal recovered from the jump with a shake of his head. "Good," he uttered, then edged up the silken material of her dress. His hand slipped past the taut material of her camisole to caress her stomach. Alex's breath caught sharply. It was as startling as that first time. This elemental magnetism.
He kissed her throat - quick urgent kisses - then trembled and pulled back. His chest was marred by a faint web of scars over his heart, where the cracking had begun and then healed. She covered it with her palm, the starburst lines jagged beneath her fingers. He closed his eyes at her touch and took a careful breath, his fingers caressing her waist. When he met her gaze again, his expression was almost defiant. Alex felt him press towards her, against her palm.
"Don't you ever try to do that -" she threatened earnestly, but he muffled her words with his mouth as he pushed her jacket clear of her shoulders. He trailed kisses, sucking at her newly exposed skin, and she began to wonder if she really would need to restrain him.
He cupped her breasts as he gave shivery kisses along her neck, and her head spun with the intensity of it. Hal was moving with a heated urgency he had rarely expressed. Already, he was coaxing her dress up and off. Then, her camisole. Spinning with the same desire, she undid the clasp of his belt as he pushed his narrow hips into her. His answer was to undo the clasp of her bra.
"Hal, should we -" she started her vague thought about restraining him, but he kissed her again, deeply, running a hand from her bra clasp to free the strap at her shoulder. It didn't matter. She trusted him. She had to trust him. She had to trust herself. She had to believe that she could stop him if she were wrong. She had to believe she wasn't wrong. She opened her legging-clad legs, her boots hitting the edge of the mattress as he shifted his weight into her. Alex drew them into alignment, bracketing his waist with her thighs and sliding her hands to caress his low back, urging him closer.
Hal's fingers stroked along the side of her stomach, then tugged down one side of the waistband of her leggings. All the while his breath and kisses on her skin wakened shivers through her. The numb detachment she had experienced since their bond had broken was melting away. Maggie's jealousy suddenly made absolute sense. To feel what she felt - to feel at all - to a ghost was the greatest envy. To feel touch, sensation, through her very soul was the Hangori gift. One she had nearly lost.
When Hal forged past her waistband altogether it finally dawned on her, "You're drunk!" She chuckled, "My God, you are bloody drunk!"
Hal's smile hit her nipple right before he took her into his mouth. Then, his fingers gleefully brushed through her curls, drawing an involuntary gasp from her.
"It won't last, so I'd advise you to make the most," he growled into her chest. Under the fabric of her panties he pleasured her maddeningly. Alex heeded his words until abruptly, he cupped under her hip to tug at the band of material. Taking a moment to pull back and savour her surprise, he looked down on her as he edged it free. Alex felt her cheeks flush at that look. They had fucked nine ways from Sunday, yet somehow this was different. Hal was unrestrained.
"Hal, I-" she started but he merely continued the descent of his hands down her legs. Her boots stopped the fall of material, but he didn't slow. Prying the boots off and nudging her leggings and panties to fall, he unzipped his trousers as he straightened. He pulled himself free of his pants then grabbed her hips, guiding her to the edge of the bed. His erection came to rest against her, and the contact was maddening in its incompleteness. Her hands returned to feel the solidity of his stomach, trailing down the soft line from his navel.
Hal paused, closing his eyes and evening his breath as his fingers stroked her skin, sparking shivers and lust. One hand over her heart, the other came to cup her cheek. When he leaned down to kiss her, increasing the pressure of his hips, it was with a deeper kiss than the previous. He sucked at her bottom lip, leaving her breathless and reaching. Her palm flattened once more at his heart, fingers splayed over the scars when he entered her. Alex gasped, fingertips pressing hard into Hal's skin and his stroke deepened.
She could feel herself growing weighted, even more present than before. It was as if their hastened return to each other was an avalanche, unstoppable. All that they had built up slowly over the past two months was coming back in a heated rush. His hands slid down to her hips for leverage. She groaned with how exquisite it was to feel him so completely. Hal's trousers started to fall but he didn't seem to care. He just held her by the hips and fucked her deeply; in short, slapping strokes, then long and slow. The intensity of such a return to her senses, to this depth of sensation - it was going to loosen her mind.
Alex's embrace over his heart swiftly turned to a warning as she watched his fangs drop, the sharp tips contrasted against the softness of his mouth. Hal faltered, momentarily unsure, but that small pause was a confirmation for her. Hal was still in control. His eyes remained clear and focused on hers, even as he tried to gauge himself. She pressed her fingers into his skin and urged him faster again. He closed his mouth over his fangs and swallowed. In an accepting and open display of his trust, he obliged.
She closed her eyes, feeling him more fully with every slap of skin. With every wet repetition, their thread was weaving between them, knitting together. Healing what was broken, and taking root. The magnitude of the build towards it's inevitable conclusion nearly unrooted her all over again. So much so that she needed the anchor of his taste on her tongue, of his skin on her lips. Alex ceased to keep him at arm's length. Instead, she reached for his shoulder to draw up to him, intensifying the sensations between them.
His hands scooped under her to lift her upright as she clung to his waist with her thighs, her hands embracing his neck as he stood. With her throat against his face, the gravity of their return to each other hit her. This pleasure, this flushing taunt of his vampire, would help him. It already had. Her defiant chase and challenge of the line he walked was the very thing that would keep that line in check. She had been running him for weeks without running. Every time they came together was a challenge, a conquering, and a release.
She dropped her head as he held her to him, lifting and lowering. Knowing it put the side of her neck to his mouth, she sucked at the skin of his shoulder, tasting the rain mixed with the salt of his sweat. His breathing turned heavy with the effort of restraint and exertion.
Cradling her buttocks with one arm, he encircled her waist with the other. Pressed this close, the heady scent of him flooded her senses as his arm tightened. "I promise," he whispered, then gave a fluttery kiss against her throat.
Alex knew he didn't make promises lightly. She also knew exactly what he was promising. To fight. To always. They made love, binding their promise to each other into one and she remembered his spiral theory. How the spiral was always in approach of its own duality. Hal was a killer who had tried to stop killing. She loved and respected him for it. She loved, and respected the most skillful murderer her own murderer had ever met. She loved and respected him. Hal was the very spiral he built over and over again. He would always be in direct opposition to himself. The trick would be to keep it that way. For him to always be in direct opposition. Neither one, nor the other, but held in balance, infinitely expanding.
When Hal exploded into her, his teeth scraped against her skin. She took the desire he held in check and bit down on his shoulder as she spasmed with him, never wanting their waves of climax to end. He held them, trembling and tightly together as she kissed away the reddened marks her teeth had made.
Startling her through the waves of sensation was the subtle sound of his fangs piercing skin - but it wasn't hers. She caught a flash of red as he returned his arm to hug her shoulders. His teeth remained threateningly sharp as he fought his bloodlust, holding her deliciously yet dangerously close. Blood on his lips, he kissed her as the wetness of his wrist hit her back. Tasting and taking the metallic tang from his kiss, she recognised what he had done. Their bond, and her power, had grown the strongest only after she had taken on his blood. He was giving it back to her. Alex tried to deepen their kiss in acknowledgement, but he halted her with a shaky swallow.
Hal guided her to sink slowly back down to the bed. She lessened her grip on him, and he dropped, his belly against hers, defeated in his attempt to keep them upright. As Hal schooled his breathing, his fangs finally retreated and he rested his forehead against her breast in spent exhaustion.
Alex ran her hand through his wet hair, and he turned to lay his cheek against her. The slight stubble on his face was sharp, yet she welcomed it all. The swirling pattern he traced on her skin, she echoed on his shoulder. The poignant awareness of the weight of him, his hip uncomfortably pressed into her thigh - she was painfully aware of just how wonderful it was. Real. Solid. Human.
Hal sighed deeply then pulled away from her in an attempt to step clear of his drenched trousers and muddy wellies. Finally free of the last of his wet clothes, he collapsed onto the bed next to her. For a moment, they laid on top of the blankets, still caught in the surprise of it all. Alex shifted to turn into him and rested her head on his chest, over his heart. His skin was still damp. He trailed his fingers through the fine hairs at the back of her neck with a small, contented sigh.
"Thank God it worked," she smiled, breaking the silence. He had beaten back the vampire once more. For the time being. Hal gave a sleepy "mmm" in response and Alex nestled closer, tracing the fading white lines of scarring with her fingers. She could feel his sinking release into sleep. Hal was still healing from the wound that had nearly ended him. She had worn her soul thin to exhaustion to find him. Even though she knew this quiet moment couldn't last, she let herself drift. They dozed as close and tangled as they felt; her hip nestled against his, his knee ever so wedged between her thighs, her heart close to his. His arm draped over her shoulders and her arm across his chest. Their fingers met and held loosely.
It lived there between them in these intertwined places; this deep feeling of love. Of being made whole. This understanding of each other. She loved him with a fiery fierceness and he loved her in fathomless wonder that she could. Their balance was held in these quiet moments. The shard of her soul rooted in his chest. His heart in her hands. Infinitely contracted and expanding, they were a spiral, woven.
They could have this. They could have each other.
"Thank you for coming. As you can see, we have been prepared for this scenario for some time." Rook held his arm out to indicate the bustling warehouse behind them. A half dozen grey-suited operatives were in the process of unpacking crates and boxes onto several tables around the room. What already was unpacked looked like the backstage of a film set. The table closest to them held swathes of fur.
The Irish pack and Christa would be joining them shortly. Once Tom learned of Rook's plan, he had rung Irving, catching him and his pack just before they left. All in all they would number only a mere half dozen. But Rook had said it would suffice. It would have to.
"Now Miss Larkin, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we may be able to employ your precise assistance in another way."
"What do you mean?" Allison asked, setting an unconvincing pelt of fake fur back down.
"We have been trying to locate your anthropologist friend. When you reported Mr. Batista as deceased, there was one crucial mistake in your translation."
Allison raised one eyebrow. "My Portuguese is uh, rusty. I used Google Translate."
"Which has a few kinks to work out yet. Yorke's supposition was correct. Vinicius was perdido after his auto accident. Not parodo. Missing, not dead."
"Oh. Well that does makes a difference," Allison agreed, then glanced to Tom who was investigating the exposed wires of a robotic claw. He caught her look, then set the prosthetic down.
"Based on your observation last night, he has been possessed. Now, if Yorke's other theory proves true - that this unknown ghost is the third party to Milo and Castle - then it is likely they have returned to their host. It is not an easy thing to achieve, but once established, a possession will usually last as long as the host does." Rook said, theorizing.
"Do you have a way to track him?" Tom asked, genuinely curious.
"The ghost? Or Vinicius? No, regretfully in either case. But if we can track where their planted evidence points to, we'll have a location to stage our little coup. Now, our intelligence within the newsroom has not yet discovered such a location. However, the cameras that Milo had placed did seem to be predominantly focused on your side of the park."
"But if most of the footage points to us, then that will only aid your cause here, correct?" Allison asked, goading Rook into divulging more information.
"Indeed, which is why I called you. However, Castle would have informed his conspirators of our ways, and may have anticipated our response. Your household could be implicated in much more than theatrics. The theft from the Archive was extremely strategic. All that would be needed to verify everything is to find one certain vampire. Honolulu Heights is wide open at the moment," Rook concluded.
"Wait - you think they'll be taking Richard Turner to our house?" Tom asked incredulously.
"It stands to reason," Rook mused. "If they're outing Richard Turner, and implicating you… One anonymous tip is all it would take. It's only a matter of hours before Jon Snow is presenting that footage on Channel 4 news. A live arrest would make the scandal all the more complete. Which is exactly why we must make haste."
In the afterglow and the fading light, a sudden tremor shuddered through Hal, startling them both out of dozing. Alex lifted her head. Their eyes met, then he glanced away.
"It's time, isn't it?" she asked, unable to keep the regret from her voice.
Hal swallowed, then nodded. "Your blood, though wonderful, was not very potent. I will bathe, then we should go."
"To the Archive?" Alex needn't have voiced the question. She already knew the answer. She hugged him, not wanting to let him break the spell of their peace by his need to leave the bed. "I really wish…" she started, then stopped. It was useless. "I'm sorry, Hal."
"I know," he answered softly, fingers light on her skin, then pulled away from her. He rummaged for his pants and put them on. Alex just lay there, feeling the absence of him as he collected a change of clothes. She had to steel herself. She had to be strong. Deliberate and focused, Hal left for the bath, and she wondered if she should go and guard him. The water in the shower came on, then the sound shifted as he stepped under it. She trusted him, and he needed to know that. Alex rent-a-ghosted to return to her clothes, then slipped her mobile into her jacket pocket. She made the bed. She straightened what little there was to straighten. It would be some time before they returned.
Only when the water ceased did Alex teleport to the bath. She handed him his towel. "You okay?" she asked.
"For the time being, but it won't hold."
"There anything at all I can grab to bring with us?"
Hal shook his head as he toweled off. "There's nothing that will help."
"You aren't alone in this fight anymore, you know. You have me."
Hal paused, the towel hung loosely. The agony of what he had to do struck her all the more deeply. She'd miss seeing him like this; unguarded, with his humanity in control. "I know," he uttered. "You have helped. But you won't want to be near me for what comes next. I lash out the worst to those closest," he stated, reaching for his clothing, then paused, wincing with the pain that truth caused. "Alex, I -"
She stopped him with one finger to his lips. "I know," she said. Then she kissed him, saying it all over again. "Been through it once already, remember? Just because you turn into a raging arse doesn't mean I'll listen."
He rested his forehead against hers for a small moment, then pulled away. Without saying anything further, he began getting dressed in clean jeans and a plain vest and shirt. These simple clothes would have to last him for awhile. Hal was buttoning up when suddenly he stopped, frozen. With a poised and lethal coiling, he cocked his head towards the closed door.
"What is it?"
"Richard," he said with a curious tilt of his head, listening.
"Richard? What the bloody - he can't come in without an invite, right?" she asked, even as she began to hear what had tipped him off.
Downstairs, the sound of the opening door was followed by a gruff and foreign voice. "Come in."
"Wha-" she shushed her question as Hal met her eyes, and held one slender finger to his lips.
Suddenly predatory, he turned to silently rummage in the linens. When Hal extracted one of Tom's hidden stakes, the dearly fought for peace of the afternoon shattered. Alex knew they were in trouble.
