Chapter 2- Rabid

Jarring. Completely jarring. I'd been suffering from the effects of my anecdote rushing through my blood when I'd caught sight of her. The sun had caught her hair in every facet, every microscopic crevice, bend, and shred, shattering into refractions of red, brown, rust, and the occasional blonde strand. It was maddening that I'd even noticed any of that, considering what had predominantly caught my attention- first, that she had noticed me and seemed to perceive the pain I was in, and second, that she seemed to be in some resemblance of my pain. I had felt an instant kinship with her pain, and I wished to show her compassion and empathy for what she felt, but I also didn't wish to be feeling for two. I couldn't bear to take on and shoulder another's pain in addition to my own, as selfish as that is. Centuries later, I was still harboring the deepest and worst emotional pain an immortal should have to suffer, and additionally I was suffering from the anecdote, searing through my veins and altering my DNA. I wanted to be mortal again. I wanted to die. I'd seen all I'd needed to see of life. My Sonja was gone. My kind, the Lycans, and the vampires were still at war; the hybrids caught dangerously in the middle, hated by all, and would always be. There was nothing left for me here. I would live out the course of my life, whatever that would be, once my DNA was altered back to that of a human being's. I would pick up from where I'd progressed to in human form, and allow my life to fade out naturally. I would shrivel up into an old man's frame, and welcome the grave when my time at last came. It was out of character for me to succumb to helplessness, but I had simply had enough, and it pained me to watch Selene and Michael together. Not because I loved Selene or begrudged her and Michael their love, but because it pained me to see a vampire and a lycan, even a hybrid, together. It reminded me too much of a forbidden and dangerous love affair of my own. It reminded me of my dead love, and of our unborn offspring that I would never know, see, or name. It reminded me the union of two worlds that would never be bonded, and the justice and retribution that would never be brought to those who deserved it more than clemency.

I slammed my fist against the granite countertop, and took in a few slow and labored breaths. When I was this deep in my grief, I had to fight with my entire being to not transform thinking of Sonja and the raw anger her unjust death still brought forth. I forced myself to think of something, anything, that I found even remotely pleasant. Such things were rare in this world to me, but the decadent sight of the girl in the late afternoon sun soothed me as I struggled to forget Sonja and breathe through the raging potion that burned like a white flame through my core as my entire body slowly morphed. I thought of the sensations my visions of her created within my soul. Warmth. Not like this burning pain, but rather a soothing, calm, beautiful warmth. The warmth of life. The warmth of good memories. The warmth of love. The warmth of acceptance. The warmth of coexistence. Coexistence, hah. The word ran bitter through my memories, and a rage with the taste of metal filled my mouth as my memories suddenly shifted back to Viktor. Perhaps thinking of acceptance and coexistence was not the right realm of thought to let my mind wander through right now. I focused on the surprisingly lovely face I had beheld on the patio behind me, and felt my nerves relax, and then my sinews. The anecdote was easing off now. In another month's time, I'd be human again; I'd be mortal. I could finally die. I glimpsed at Sonya's pendant dangling outside my window- my sole reminder of why I wanted to be mortal and give this immortal life up forever. It was a life not worth living without her. It was an unjust and cruel world, ruled by unfeeling Death Dealers.

As the anecdote had begun to take further effect, I'd been able to eat more and more regular food, like humans ate, though I preferred just meat. Cooked, but not basted in anything, not seasoned, not with any side vegetables. Just beef, or just chicken, etc. was enough for me. As I made myself a steak for my dinner, I had decided to try some grains tonight on the side, so I made a little pasta. To my surprise and pleasure, the taste was most desirable and satisfying. I had already made a closer advancement towards becoming human. I was evolving.

The trouble with becoming human was that I had nothing to bide my time with. I had been so used to plotting against Viktor and his henchman, and so preoccupied with the vision I had for Lycans everywhere, that I hadn't had much time for trivial hobbies, even in this modern world full of recreational activities. Now that I had denied myself my former life, I found each day a vast expanse of emptiness. Nothing was meaningful enough to fill my time, but time was such a long strand of life to fill. I spent a lot of time teaching myself how to play a game called Chess, but it was hard to learn the game and form a repertoire of strategies without an opponent to play against. I also had no desire to interact with another mortal. Though I was certain plenty of them were not vapid drones, I was equally as sure that none had endured what I had, and I had been around for centuries of time compared to the mere decades a mortal would endure, but not suffer. There was no common ground or experience that any mortal could possibly share with me. And so, I condemned myself to isolation. The isolation wasn't entirely what I desired, but I simply couldn't envision myself finding any sort of meaning in the world I'd exiled myself to. I felt completely despondent as I sat down at a small, round wooden table in the dining room in a lone matching chair, moving pawns around the board to put a king in check. I felt like a pawn myself, and Viktor the untouchable king. And yet the king had a weak spot. It was so easy to find in Chess, but with Viktor it was nearly impossible. Even his own daughter, and Selene, the vampire who was very much in Sonja's likeness, weren't weak spots enough for the tyrant. I stared down at the board with no real desire to "play" the game tonight. I picked at a square here and there, back and forth between black and white, moving pawns one square at a time, not even touching the rooks, bishops, etc. It was useless. I sat at the table in complete silence, completely still, until darkness fell, never taking my eyes off of one of the middle black squares. All I could do was think, despite my best efforts. At least the anecdote's effects had worn off for the day, until I took the next vial tomorrow. I had been emotionally defeated yet again, as thoughts of Sonja, and Selene and Michael together, began to haunt me. I feared for what would happen to the two of them. I feared that they would die as my love had. I feared Michael or Selene would end up alone for eternity, fighting the bitter pain that I did. Neither one deserved it; they were both good- pure, and designed to love above all else. Their loyalties lay with each other, first and foremost. Where did my loyalties lie now? To myself, I supposed. Sonya had always been my first priority, and after her death the lycans and their freedom were. Now, though, I felt as though even that was lost on me. I felt there was nothing left to fight for. I lived for me. And by lived I meant, I stayed immortal no longer, and would live as a mortal for my own death, and for my own release from my pain for good. I would reach old age and finally be rid of this life. All that was left in me was infected blood, my rage, and burning chemicals designed to alter me. I was a rabid and bitter man, waiting for validation for my trials. I did not hold a grudge against life for going on without me, but I found that I didn't belong in it anymore, which made me equally as angry as if I were to hold such a grudge. What I was infected with more than anything was my pain. It raged through me like a fever and incapacitated me at times from even breathing normally. This wasn't a life worth living, being bitter and having nothing to do with my time but ruminate in old memories. I wouldn't commit suicide, which is why I intended to life to old age as a human, but I wouldn't allow myself to go on forever in some sort of boundless purgatory, so I had gone to someone who could help me become mortal, in order to find a way to put an end to my pointless existence. Immortality meant nothing with no one to spend it with who truly mattered, or with no cause worth fighting for anymore.

My thoughts were redundant and dark. I was more than aware how many times the same thoughts reverberated through my endless memory, which was all the more reason why I was completely resolute in my decision. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and decided to sleep. I retired to the master bedroom, the only room upstairs that I used, and settled into the austere room for a restless sleep. The bed and a flat digital clock on the wall, as well as one on a black wooden night stand, were all that decorated the room. The bed had a simple red duvet, a cream-colored fleece blanket, a white sheet, and a black pillow case over a single pillow. The color scheme was decorative, but simple. I didn't want there to be much to leave behind me, as there would be no one to leave it to when I was gone, so I kept my belongings sparse. Besides, what else would I keep in a room for sleeping, meaningless trinkets and hobbies? I had none. My blinds were drawn, as I preferred them to be, to shut out the entire world, and to let none see me, or to know even an ounce of whom I was. I didn't want anyone to know anything about my pain, my memories, my desires, or anything of me. I didn't want to be remembered or wanted now. Then if I were to be gone, I would haunt someone else's memories as mine were haunted now. The fact that I'd let my neighbor see me even for a second, even just a second to show her some much-needed compassion, was in the long-run a selfish act in my mind. She would have one memory of me now, perhaps a fond and tender one, and now there was even the slightest potential of her missing me, now that she wouldn't see me again. I was aware how arrogant it was to think that someone would glance at me once and immediately miss me for any reason at all. I hadn't really touched her life all that greatly, just shown her an ounce of deserved concern and interest. I certainly would have to be all too assured of myself to think such a thing, that just by being seen I could be missed by anyone, but just knowing the smallest possibility was there was my motivation to shut the world out.

For a moment of insanity, I wondered about that glance. I wondered if I had given her any sort of comfort in that moment, knowing she wasn't alone in suffering some sort of extreme pain. I wondered if I'd given her any sort of strength to push through her day; her life. I smiled at the thought of her heart feeling lighter just for one moment; remembering what it's like to feel empowered. Perhaps she would begin to crave more of that empowerment to go on, and she would find her inner strength. I hoped she would find it easier than I. I hadn't found it at all, although I could almost taste it in that brief moment I'd met her gaze. It seemed almost as though she wished it for me. Her wishes were in vain, but I felt the smallest bit of healing from someone desiring me to be well. A smile flicked the corner of my mouth upward for a moment, and then it sagged again. I felt badly that I couldn't talk to her. As her neighbor, I wasn't being very neighborly, with the exception of this afternoon. I wasn't someone in her community she could reach out to as I should be. I read the grief of bereavement in an instant, and I felt almost a responsibility to her as her neighbor, and as one in constant mourning myself. I had lost all ability to sleep soundly, so I stood up and peered out of my bedroom window. Across the way, I saw her in her bedroom window, sitting on her bed, and staring wistfully at the western wall. I saw her hand brush her face and I knew that she was crying. I felt a twinge inside of myself at the sight of her in agony. I saw her reach over to a digital alarm clock at her bedside, which seemed to have an mp3 player, an iPod I guessed, in it. She reached over very abruptly to press a button on the iPod. I wasn't sure if she was turning it on or off, but it seemed as if she were turning it off to suppress a memory. Instinct told me as much. Her life was in a modern setting with modern reminders, but I was perceptive enough to know that something playing from that iPod was reminiscent of her grief. The sight was too much to bear. I resolved to act as a neighbor to her tomorrow. Perhaps her company would be enough to at least distract me from some of my own pain. I vowed that tomorrow would be the end of the worst of her trials. In a moment of complete abandon of my previous convictions, I decided that I was strong enough to shoulder someone else's grief, as it served some sort of purpose and gave some sort of meaning to my life. I would, after all, have some sixty or seventy or more years left to live as a mortal. Perhaps though I served no purpose in the world of immortals, I could serve some small purpose in the world of the mortals whom I would soon join. My resolve did not waver in the morning, as I awoke for the first time in centuries with a shred of dignity and hope.

A/N: I realize I'm kind of fudging on a few minor details to tweak the story to go the way I want it to, but such is the nature of a fanfic, right? Please feel free to catch any errors I may have made in way of continuity from the movies though. I'll let you know if I mean to change something or not, or if I simply forgot the way something was in the movie.