AN: Sorry this is a day late everyone, life got a little chaotic. But here we have it, they finally meet! And has everyone figured out who Gr is now? I tried to make it pretty obvious.

Any Haven characters that you want to make an appearance? Tell me in a review and if they aren't already in (there've already been a couple sneaky cameos) then I will try and write them in for you!

Chapter Three

N

The first two times I smell food, the meal has already been claimed by a Boney. They snarl at us as we pass them, crouched over their catch and clutching the still bleeding organs defensively. Each time Gr nudges me on faster, almost protectively, until we are out of range. We have to travel further into the city, deeper than I've ever been before, to the area where the buildings climb into the sky and graffiti decorates abandoned cabs and police cars.

We're shuffling passed a large whitish building when I suddenly catch a whiff of life. I pause, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply. Yes, that's definitely live food. I grunt and Gr imitates my inhale. The corner of his lips twitch just slightly in a show of excitement. I nod and we head up the steps into the building, following the smell of warmth and flesh.

Once we're inside, I can tell that this building used to be a hospital. There are beds and wheelchairs and electronic equipment that's long since died. The part of me that still recognises irony stirs into life. People have always taken sanctuary from death in this place, and yet here come the dead to claim the living all the same. Good to know some things never really change. It's almost poetic, in a disturbingly macabre way.

The Hunger is twisting up my insides and the smell of flesh is getting stronger as we shamble up a service staircase to the next floor. I bump into a chair and it tips over onto its back while I stagger to regain my balance. A few feet further down the hall one of the others knocks a plastic bin off a table and it clatters loudly on the tile. It doesn't matter; we're so close now there's no escape for the humans. Eager moans roll from our group as we get closer to the door that separates us from our dinner. I can see the back of a human's head through the window panel in the door and my heart would've leapt if it still worked.

I crash through the door and almost immediately take the butt of a rifle to the face, sending me sprawling. That turns out to be my saving grace, because a spray of bullets strikes right through where I was standing. A redheaded older female Corpse collapses instead with a drip of brown blood oozing from the hole in her forehead.

The humans are shouting and the Corpses are growling and the whole place has descended into absolute chaos. I look up in time to see two Corpses team up on a man with thinning hair and he shrieks as they bite into his flesh. I'm still struggling to get back to my feet, my stiff, awkward limbs refusing to cooperate. I've managed to get up to one knee when it happens.

I see her.

She slides out from behind the shelter of a shelf, an handgun held aloft in a steady grip as she puts a bullet in the temple of a Corpse to my left. She's beautiful. She's got hair like spun gold, strands hanging loose from her ponytail to frame her flushed, round cheeks. Her sky blue eyes are narrowed in focus, her rosebud lips pursed as she concentrates on her target. It's so much more than just her looks though. She's so alive. She is fire and passion and energy. She's like a perfect classic rock ballad, with strength and fight beneath the soft words and story. She is the will to live. Looking at her almost makes me feel something more than just hunger. It's like - hope.

The woman rolls back into her hiding place and I immediately shove myself to my feet, determined to follow. I don't care that I'm a Corpse and she's a human, or that's she's got a loaded gun in her hand that will put me in my place permanently. All I know is that something about her makes me feel alive, and I need to know why.

My shoulder whips backward at the impact of a shot and I turn to look at the perpetrator. The man from the door, the one who hit me with his gun, is standing on top of a table to get a better vantage point. Eyes like ice are narrowed and he sneers as he aims the rifle at my face. "Take this, fucker."

The girl may be off-limits, but this bastard's not. He just put another hole in my favourite - admittedly, only - jacket. I snarl and launch myself at him, the second bullet sailing clean over my head. He yells when I grab his leg and pull him down off the table, his head hitting the granite on the way. I twist his arm up and sink my teeth into the forearm, feeling the tendons and muscle shredding beneath the pressure. My stomach hums in pleasure at each swallow, grateful to finally be fed.

Now don't misunderstand me. I don't like killing people. I hate it, honestly. I don't like living like this. But the Hunger is so strong. I can't help myself. It's this or give up and become a Boney, and I'm not ready for that yet. I do this because I have to, nothing more than that.

The man is still thrashing and screaming at me. I grab him roughly by the throat, noticing an interesting pendant around his neck as I do, and bash his head against the floor. The resultant crack is cringe-worthy, even to me and I've still got a mouthful of bloody tissue. I shove once, twice, three times, until he finally goes limp with a particularly gross crunching sound that drips intracranial fluid onto my fingers.

Now at this point I could just leave him - eat just enough more to be full and then be done - then he'll come back as one of us. But if I eat his brains, he'll stay dead and I'll get his memories. It's horrible, I know, but it feels so good. It makes me feel alive again, if only for a few brief moments. I'm sorry, but I have to do it. It's the best part.

I plunge my hand through the shattered back of his skull and claw out a fistful of gray matter. It's like gelatin on my tongue and as I chew I feel synapses in my head flare into life. My eyes cloud over with images not my own and I sink into the thrill.

...You pump your legs as fast as you can... Push, push, push... The exhilarating burn and buzz of active muscles... Nothing but green grass for miles in every direction, edged by the forest, all of it waiting to be explored and conquered... Wind whips over the hill, blowing your hair back off your forehead and making you feel like flying... Flying... Flying...You spread your arms, running, still running, and the wind makes you fly...

I moan as the sensations of weightlessness and childish imagination fade, but a new memory follows directly on its heels.

...The waves are cold... Cold... Bitterly cold as they wash up around your bare feet... You flex your toes and the wet sand squishes, sinks, sucks at you...You climb unsteadily over the rocky ridge that edges the beaches and the stone is sharp. It bites, nips, scratches your soles... Pain... Pain but still pleasure... You crouch by a tide pool and examine the spongy vine-like plants growing there curiously... Happiness... Discovery... Purpose...

...Another morning almost identical, some ten years later... Doing the same thing, but now as a university student... Older, tired, harder... But still happy here... Comfortable... At home... Peaceful...

I sigh. At home. What a wonderful feeling. Have I ever felt so peaceful before? I like my house, but I'm never peaceful. There's always something; anxiety, frustration, loneliness, Hunger.

Never a calm like this.

The world is still going on around me, still screams and growls and death, but I greedily suck away the gray matter clinging to my palm. Just a little more, a few more seconds.

...There's a girl, a new girl, in Haven. You go to talk to Vince about a patrol concern and there she is, sitting on the sofa in his living room. Her cheeks are hollow, sign of having been hungry for a while, but there's colour in her skin and she looks healthy, if wary. She looks up at you curiously and you feel the weight of her bright blue eyes, making your heart jump. "Hi, I'm looking for Vince," you say.

"He had to run out on some business," she replies. "He should be back soon, if you want to wait."

"Sure, thanks," you say and you take a seat in one of the mismatched armchairs. "I'm Chris."

"Audrey," she says and smiles...

...You stretch on the mattress and feel the comfortable warmth of Audrey curled against your side. You comb your fingers through her hair as she nuzzles into your chest. "I miss ice cream trucks," she murmurs, tracing idle patterns on your stomach with a fingertip.

You snort. "Ice cream trucks?"

"Yeah. Those creepy, off-tune nursery rhymes. The way every kid in the neighbourhood screams in excitement when they hear it," she explains. "It's just one of those things you take for granted, I guess."

You smile fondly, turning to plant a kiss on her forehead. "It's cute that you think of things like that," you say. "Most people don't bother."

"Did you just call me cute, Brody?" she asks teasingly. She rolls onto her stomach and props herself up on her elbows, leaning over you. "How very eloquent and flattering."

"You're so annoying," you say in amusement.

"Ah, there's my Chris," she says and she leans in, pressing her lips to yours. The emotions and sensations are fascinating, overpowering, as her mouth moves against yours. It's some long minutes later when she pulls back, and her eyes bore straight into yours, seeing right through you. "Chris, I - I think I'm in love with you."

Your heart is racing. Thrumming, pulsing, hammering away at a million miles an hour. This feeling, it's like euphoria. She loves you. Love. Not just a silly crush, like the girls you liked in high school back before the world went to hell. This is real, eternal, forever.

"Chris, don't just stare at me," she says and you can see the flash of panic in her eyes. Panic and desperation. "Say something. Anything. God, I shou-"

"Audrey," you cut across her abruptly, "I think I love you too." And then her lips touch yours again and the world melts away...

The images fade and the world around me comes back into reality. It's still madness and fighting; only a handful of seconds have passed. I look across at the blonde woman. Audrey. The feeling, the longing to understand her, is even stronger than before. I have to know.

I hastily jam a couple handfuls of brain and that curious necklace into the pocket of my jacket and then shove myself to my feet. Audrey sees me as I lurch forward and I see her eyes go wide in fear. Bracing herself, she levels a gun with my head and I instinctively flinch as she pulls the trigger. The click of the empty barrel is loud and I would've laughed if I could, in fact, laugh. Saved by an empty chamber. Turns out even the dead get lucky sometimes.

Cursing, she throws the gun away and reaches for her belt. With a sharp flick of her wrist a dagger embeds itself in my sternum. I stare at the handle in fascination - she has a hell of a throw to get it that far in - before pulling it out and dropping it. Audrey backs into a shelf and a look of panic lights in her eyes when she realises she has nowhere else to go. She crouches down, folding in on herself, as I get closer and kneel in front of her. She looks so scared. I need to do something to make her feel better.

"Awh-ree," I mumble thickly. Damn it, those hard consonants are a bitch. One more try, I can do this. "Awh-dree."

Nailed it.