Author's Note: Most of the information about hep D came from the comic books and the HBO vblogs, if anyone was wondering. I don't remember it mentioned more than once on the show.

CHAPTER FOUR

November 9, 2009

The next night, Steve found himself standing awkwardly with Chelsea in the gloom of the tomblike hall. The vault of the Authority underground was eerily like a burial chamber. The pool of blood added a natural touch to the sanctum and the ebb and flow of the red liquid could be relaxing when it was quiet enough to hear it.

For now, Chelsea had ingenuously engaged Steve in a conversation about business basics. He was the once friendly-face-now-turned-into-a-mask-of-terror, as America had put it, so he knew a thing or two about generating and maintaining an audience.

Unfortunately, Steve couldn't concentrate on their conversation for very long. He was still distracted by how he and Russell ended things last night. The way Russell offered his care and protection fueled his ever-cheerful disposition with understandable pride. In fact, he had relived the conversation over and over as he slept. Russell had been Steve's mentor and lover, but now he was his protector as well. That was a thought that sent tingles through Steve's cold, dead body.

It was also an urgent announcement that Steve desperately wanted to broadcast live on TBBN. He wanted to see that stupid look on Suzanne's face and hear the stunned hush of the American public when he made his relationship to the ancient vampire known. However, discretion was key. Salome had ordered long ago that no one breathed a word about Russell's existence until the timing was just right.

Russell, as well, had reminded Steve about discretion. And that was where the problem lied.

That was why Steve continuously replayed the conversation in his head. Did the ancient vampire want discretion over their relationship to one another, or solely over Steve's illness? The hep D had left Steve feeling especially vulnerable, but even before then he wondered how a former king could even glance at someone who became a vampire as a form of punishment. Russell had been drawn to him so effortlessly that Steve was just waiting for anything else to steal his attention away.

That was the thought that caused an uncomfortable feeling to well up in Steve's chest. It was probably a feeling foreign to most vampires, but since Steve was only four months old, he could still recognize heartache.

Nevertheless, Steve pushed forward. He was the sole representative for the AVL and he currently had an audience to entertain, even if it was just an audience of one:

Chelsea still sat before him in one of the blue chairs. Papers and books were on either side of her. Her cheery smile and bright personality could light up any room. She was completely attuned to Steve, politely waiting for him to finally impart his expertise on business.

"As you know, some folks are born with a natural grace," Steve said while trying his best to maintain a smile. He stood in front of her as he spoke, but he did not know how long his joints would keep up with standing.

"Some humans are athletic, nimble, or whatnot," he continued. "But unlike humans, we vampires—"

There was a small creak and Steve fumbled slightly when he saw Russell enter the sanctum. A short silence followed after the heavy doors fell shut, but upon looking at the former king, Steve concluded that the restlessness that plagued him had nothing to do with his recent bout of hep D. That was just a coincidence. Steve knew with certainty that he had felt weak the very moment Russell started showing him any attention.

Russell was the oldest vampire in existence, so it was only natural to feel weak around him. Steve suspected that it was just the dizzying sense of power that came with being associated with a hero like Russell. That was one of the reasons Steve threw aside the bottles of vitamin D. His overwhelming desire for the ancient vampire was not discouraged by reason, common sense, or pharmaceuticals. He had no need for vitamins for what affected him.

Steve watched Russell as he marched across the stony slabs with the casual arrogance he was so envious of. Russell then sat down without a word in the far corner of the chamber. He lounged back into the leather cushion, folded his arms, and considered Steve's face in the glow of the artificially lit room.

Steve was momentarily distracted.

"Reverend Newlin?" Chelsea interrupted.

Steve shook his head. "Sorry," he continued, "We vampires…"

He tried to stay focus on Chelsea, but his eyes kept wandering back at Russell. The ancient vampire was always deliciously dangerous and frightening unpredictable, but there he was. Just sitting there.

Sitting and watching.

Chelsea politely cleared her throat.

"Right!" Steve managed a nervous laugh. "We vampires are not reborn with certain genes when we're created. We don't simply inherit attributes from our makers. We're just ourselves and we make choices. It doesn't matter what genes our human selves were born with because we choose to be leaders in our new lives."

Steve took a break to rub at his wrists before he realized that he had already forgotten what he was talking about. Then as he rubbed his elbows, he wondered if anything he had said to Chelsea actually made sense. His mind was nearly as tired as his body. He was almost tempted to collapse against the coffee table and rest.

While it was most certainly his imagination, Steve felt as though his heart took a beat when Russell first entered. He felt neglected when the older vampire did not spend the day lying beside him in bed. They had not known each other long enough for that to technically become habit, but Steve had grown accustomed to it the very first night. But yesterday, Russell naturally insisted that Steve needed his rest. Steve supposed, in the end, that Russell was right because he slept longer than he thought any vampire was capable of. He even missed an Authority meeting.

Steve knew he felt drained, but he had assumed all vampires followed some sort of internal clock like they did on the television. They always woke up the moment the sun went down.

But Steve was wrong. His body was capable of crashing at any moment.

So, Steve scrunched his face when his knees started to flare up. It was okay to rub wrists in front of Chelsea. That was just talking with his hands. But when it came to bending down to massage a knee or an ankle, it would raise too many suspicions. However, that didn't stop him from considering it, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Russell's mouth thin with disapproval.

So Steve immediately brightened his smile.

"You're mad at me!" he said suddenly as he turned to face Russell.

For some reason, Steve was just excited to figure out why the older vampire was looming over them from the corner of the room. Being mad was fine as long as Russell hadn't finally come to his senses and decided that he was revolted by a baby vampire with hep D. At least this way, Russell was still paying attention to him.

"Yes," Russell said evenly. "And you will come to learn that it is not something to be proud of."

Chelsea just pressed her pen to her lip and watched the two interact.

All the excitement Steve initially felt quickly went away as Russell fixed him with a hard stare. A deep sense of unease finally raced through him.

Okay, so it was established. Something was wrong.

"Okay, Chelsea!" Steve clapped his hands together, but immediately regretted it as it reignited some of his joint pain. He would just have to push past the discomfort to get rid of their receptionist, since he did not demand an audience for this upcoming conversation.

"I have an idea," the reverend continued. "The best thing for you to do is learn how to maximize your time. And the best way to do that… is to leave. Right now."

"Oh," she stammered. "Yeah, okay."

She quickly began to huddle all her papers together and Steve made an awkward attempt to help her.

"What's this?" she asked as some type of plastic disc fell from his front pocket and into her lap.

"Oh…" Steve stalled. He desperately wanted to reach out and grab it, but knew it was inappropriate to do so once it had landed in a lady's lap.

"Is this a Tru Blood cap?"

"I-I don't think so."

Chelsea gave him a nervous, but encouraging smile. "Why do you have it?"

Steve whimpered. "I realllly don't know."

"Ah, we use it as lubricant," Russell chimed in casually and Chelsea and Steve's heads both snapped back to hear what he had to say.

"The glycerin makes Steve slippery enough to accept my cock ramming into his ass," Russell continued. "The personal lubrication corporations have yet to cater to the strenuous sex lives of the average American vampire."

Steve nervously tapped his fingers over his chin and chewed his lower lip as he awaited Chelsea's reaction. He wished Russell had said anything else, but apparently the ancient vampire was in a peculiar mood and eager to stage a humiliating display if only for the entertainment of their receptionist.

Thankfully, Chelsea was too polite to respond.

"Not that either Steven or myself is average," Russell added.

Steve recoiled, knowing Russell would just continue to talk as long as there was an audience. So he quickly began to hurry Chelsea along.

"Maximizing time! Right, Chels?" he reminded swiftly as he shooed her along.

Once Chelsea was out of sight, Steve held his forehead in his hands. He was torn somewhere between utter embarrassment and total relief. It was great to finally be alone with Russell and, apparently, the ancient vampire had no qualms about expressing their relationship to others. But now Steve had to wonder how he was ever going to face Chelsea again.

"I guess I should thank you for coming up with a quick explanation," Steve said softly to Russell without turning around. He decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "That probably was the best you could come up with at the top of your head and I'm sure Chelsea won't have any follow-up questions."

"I wouldn't put too much faith in what a receptionist thinks anyways," Russell responded dismissively.

Steve slowly nodded. Then he took a moment to stretch his tight muscles. When he was done, he could feel Russell standing directly behind him. The ancient vampire always radiated an unnerving air even without muttering a single word. It wasn't long before Russell placed a hand on his shoulder. It weighed heavy on his tender back.

"I'm only going to ask you this once," Russell warned quietly. "Do you feel sore?"

Unfortunately, Steve didn't want to be a bother. Russell was the oldest and strongest vampire in the world and he had already taken too much of his time.

"Noooo, I'm alright," the younger vampire answered, but he rubbed his elbows without thinking.

"Alright then," Russell said simply and gave a quick rub to the shoulder beneath his hand. He was all too aware of how fragile a sick baby vampire felt. "We can finish this conversation in your chamber."

Steve nodded and continued to massage a sore muscle. It would be nice to have some privacy. Then he suddenly wondered exactly what conversation Russell intended to continue—

"What?" he turned around, but Russell was already gone.

With a sigh, Steve decided he might as well begin that long journey back to his room…