Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Stargate Atlantis or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

Warnings: This story is a Parrish/Lorne. Thus this fiction will contain allusions to a pre-slash relationship. This fiction also contains adult language and adult situations.

Author's note #1: This is a horrendously late response to a prompt for the Thing-a-Thon on the LJ community: Parrish_Lorne. The prompt goes as follows: "Lorne/Parrish - Parrish is a vampire"

Before the Blood Dries

Chapter Five

A frustrated growl rose up in his throat, rattling through him as few lingering tendrils of adrenaline arrowed through his mangled veins. – He bit his lips, decision made. It would seem that there was nothing else for it. …Shit.

He had to do this right. He'd been around long enough to know how people reacted in situations like. In moments were fear, loss, and confusion mixed together with guns and adrenaline. – Unsurprisingly it goes without saying that they made crappy bed fellows. Fear and the unfamiliar went hand in hand. And violence was a knee-jerk reaction that rode on the coat tails of fear. It was as central to humanity as breathing. A self defense mechanism if you will. It was what told you to run, told you to turn and fight if the situation called for it. It was an instinct, a gut reaction that had kept the human species alive since the very beginning.

- And that was why he knew that somehow…in someway he had to make Lorne understand. – Because if he didn't, it was very likely that they'd both do something they'd later regret…

"Major. Major. – Evan!" He yelled, finally getting the man's attention as the man's head whipped up. Startled by the insistence in his voice as the soldier's pulse started jack rabbitting, sending the sweet, delicious thrum of blood and adrenaline singing through the man's throbbing veins. He could sense it, flowing just underneath the man's skin.

…God.. He needed to-…

But he pushed it away, blinking away dilated pupils and keeping his lips firmly pressed around his aching gums as he met Lorne's eyes from across the tangled in the web of tensor bandages. Trying to ignore the way the man's wide palms were pressing against the sides. - Putting more and more pressure on the wound despite the fact that by this point it would have been akin to trying to mend a tear in the Titanic with a screwdriver. - And while he appreciated the sentiment, the man's efforts were useless. - Even if he had been human.

Besides, there was only one thing he could do now.

"Evan. No Evan! Look at me. Look… Do you trust me?" He began, fingers fluttering up the sides of the wound even as he spoke. Curling around the outer edges of the nearest bandage as he made his way closer to the shard by touch alone, refusing to look away from the other man for even a second as Lorne balked above him.

"What? Are you crazy? – Hey! Don't touch that!" Evan shot back, eyes sharpening with confusion as the man gently tried to pry his fingers off the blood matted bandages. Frown lines only deepening when he realized he couldn't move them an inch. – Using his superior strength to his advantage as he quickly captured both the man's hands in a soft but inescapable grip. - Forcing the man to focus solely on him as he spoke.

"Do. You. Trust. Me." He demanded, words hissing from his lips even as a fresh stream of blood flooded up between the gaps of his teeth. - Bathing both his lips and teeth in frothy soup of deadly crimson as he caught the man's gaze and refused to release him. …Lorne had to understand..

"Parrish…David.. You are scaring me." The man managed, lips parting as if paused in the act of saying something more as his eyes strayed down to their joined hands.

"Don't be frightened… Just, promise me.. - Whatever happens, don't be frightened." He whispered, meeting Lorne's gaze a final time before he lurched upwards, pushing the man as far away as he could manage. - Forcing him backwards with an almost violent shove as he bent his knees and planted his feet deep into the dirt.

"Parrish! What the hell are you doin-."

But he didn't respond. It was too late anyway. Because with a single, desperation fueled growl he summoned up his remaining strength. Letting long fingers curl around the ragged, blood soaked shard even as his canines dropped, shivering down from his gums as the change rippled through him…

"What the fuck! – Parrish!"

But the man's yell was distant, a mere buzz on the edges of his periphery hearing. Meaningless and unimportant when put beside the pain. In fact he only vaguely took in the way Lorne was toppling over backwards, hands curling reflectively around the stock of his P-90 as he stumbled backwards, movements panic fueled and sloppy as his boot treads slipped across the blood slicked gravel. Sending dirt and grit puffing into the air as his lips pulled back in a silent snarl. - The acidic flatness of pulverized rock grating against his fangs like a warning as he snarled into the close summer air.

It didn't take long after that. Because within seconds that iconic, fine red mist had overwhelmed his vision, the vibrant color only fueling his blood lust as the hunger rose within him. – Making him bare his teeth with a ferocity he hadn't felt for close to three decades as he seized the center of the stake and wrenched it upwards. Ripping the damned thing free with a single, vicious movement, painting them both with a spray of blood and god only knows what else as it pulled free with the sickening crack of shattered bone and blood slicked flesh..

…And he'd be lying if his pained howl hadn't echoed through the tree line. Shocking the busy forest canopy into a sudden, uneasy silence as the echoes compounded on one another, chasing the tail edges of the ones that had come before as the entire forest fell deathly still... – As if the Gods themselves had stopped to hold their breath….

"…Jesus fucking Christ…" Lorne whispered. Voice gravel deep and raw as it floated up from somewhere around the area of his left thigh, just outside of his field of vision. – And for that he was absurdly grateful, because he didn't want to see the Major's face right now. He didn't know if he'd be able to bear it…

Instead he just panted on the ground, letting the chunk of wood slip out of his hands as he concentrated on simply breathing. All too aware of the way the light breeze was curling around his elongated canines. Flirting with the softness of his lips as an errant tongue swiped through the taste of smelted copper. - And for a long time he simply laid there. Letting the silence breathe…. – Slowly collecting the tattered remnants of his control as the sound of the man's racing heart echoed out into the silence like the tempting chorus of some long forgotten song…

"What… - What are..you?" Lorne finally asked, stumbling over his own tongue as he spoke. - The words sounded heavy. Half suffocated amidst a tangled up ball of panic fueled betrayal as he forced himself to face them.

Willing himself to rise above the hurt and growing confusion as he blinked sluggish, crimson hued irises into the heady afternoon light. Closing them momentarily as the sound of calloused fingers sliding down the sides of gun tainted metal tickled his ear drums. - Filling the air with the scent of unspent cartridges, singed gun oil, and the tangy musk of a nervous human sweat.

"…Complicated." He finally wheezed. Letting long, deceptively slender fingers dig into the ground as he forced himself to turn away. Trying to forget the sound of the man's echoing heart beat as sharp nails pierced through the thick earthy sod, sending the smell of an entirely different kind of life rising in his senses.

- Because really, what else was he supposed to say?

A/N: Please let me know what you think? Or indeed if I should continue? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!

"No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently."- Agnes de Mille