**Adult Content: Bloody Things**

**Also totes not Beta'd, because I didn't want to pester Ky. But thanks to her anyway!**

Tears from the Moon

Chapter 8. Infected

Now here I go,
Hope I don't break down,
I won't take anything, I don't need anything,
Don't want to exist, I can't persist,
Please stop before I do it again,
Just talk about nothing, let's talk about nothing,
Let's talk about no one, please talk about no one, someone, anyone

You and me have a disease,
You affect me, you infect me,
I'm afflicted, you're addicted,
You and me, you and me

I'm on the edge,
Get against the wall,
I'm so distracted,
I love to strike you,
Here's my confession,
You learned your lesson,
Stop me before I do it again

~Infected, Bad Religion

Months passed with winter blanketing the campus, and in the way the days shorter Jem didn't spend much time outside of his dorm. He made William a nice home there, and on days when he was his sickest Jem stayed right by his side. Desperation settled in them both wanting Will to survive, but it became an unsettled topic between them. Will didn't complain of the way he felt, and though he may not have liked being kept—he wouldn't refuse Jem anything. However, with the winter break close upon them, and his family wanting him home William wasn't looking forward to their time apart. He figured Jem would go home to China for the month long space between semesters, but they hadn't talked about it.

Jem didn't want to tell William he hadn't made plans to return home, nor did he wish to tell his mother he was too afraid to leave—afraid he'd never get to come back. They would not take the news well, but what if something happened to Will? What if he died between then and now? The blue eyed boy liked to pretend all was well, but Jem knew better—he was going to school for this. He knew the yellow beneath Will's fingernails was a sign of sickness, and the whites in his eyes were dull. When he coughed he stained his palms with a blood that surfaced from his lungs, but what hurt Jem the most; the way William cried in his sleep. He sobbed unspoken worries of letting him go, and at the same time painted the white roses of Jem's bedclothes—red.

"Jem," A voice called the youth back from his daydreams, his worries, and his fears. And suddenly he was very aware that the conversation he was holding with the Professor had grown silent, and his tea had gotten cold. A small flush filled the tops of his cheeks, and Jem looked down to mask his shame. How rude it must have been to not pay attention to Jean-Luc, and seated there across from his desk he wondered if he should give up his morning tea with such a man. He hardly felt he deserved it.

"Forgive me Professor, I've not been sleeping well." The truth was always easier to admit than a lie, but he felt guilty with the confession just the same.

His mornings with this man were cherished, and in ways he couldn't explain. He loved Will, and knew he always would. But there was perhaps a little boy's dream of finding someone as tall, dark, and handsome Professor St. Laurence. Despite his uneven gate, and the obvious pain he harbored in his leg there was an air of perfection that even his limp couldn't take away. Jem cherished the coat he was given, even now seated across from the man who gave it, he held onto it like a force field. He loved the beautiful buttons, the high collar, and the way no matter how much he wore it—it still smelled like him.

Jean-Luc was a kind man, and one that perhaps should have just let Jem be. But there was a deep desire to protect him that even he couldn't explain. He wasn't a fool, and picked up on the relationship budding between Carstairs and Hereondale the moment William finally started sitting beside Jem in class. He noticed the looks passed between them like secret notes slipped in class, but he wouldn't dare comment. However, as he moved to warm the boy's tea with a bit more of the hot water, he wanted to know. He wanted to protect him if he was in trouble, but most of all he wanted to see him smile again.

"Is everything alright?" Came his question, soft and with warmth that only he could possess, and with that Jem took a deep breath.

"I don't know. I…" I really can't tell you, not without betraying him. "It's just that," Jem fidgeted in his seat nervously, "Well, Winter Break is coming. Soon." Very soon. "And I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't go home, but I can't stay here." With that he sighed, the air pushing his pale hair from his brow a moment.

"You can't go home?" The question was still soft, but what followed next was a little sterner, "Or you won't?" The statement wasn't a question of the truth, but very much pinning Jem where he sat in that sort of way he couldn't escape without answering.

"It's not that I won't as much as I don't want to." Finally, he gave in, and looked back at the Professor in defeat. Yet, still he stood his ground. "My mother of course wants me to, but I just feel in my bones if I leave I won't get to come back. She was so upset about the attack, and how unsafe it is here. I'm afraid she'll hold me captive and I'll never be able to return to England. And since it's her money that pays for school, I am at her mercy."

Jean-Luc smirked lightly knowing that was just as much the truth as Jem not wanting to leave Will. He overheard Jem arguing in his native tongue to his mother in the hall once on his phone. Chinese wasn't one of the romantic languages, but when Jem's sweet singsong voice spoke in the phone it was beautiful.

"You are aware that the dorms close during the holiday, and that the school shuts down. I know that a few students often rent rooms in the local towns, but by now… this late?" The Professor worried, but stopped when Jem shook his head.

"They are all full. I've tried." He slumped in his chair, curling the mug up closer to his chest, and when the clock tower outside started to announce the morning classes students started to trickle in. Jean-Luc suddenly felt as though the morning had slipped far too fast, and before he could word it in a more appropriate manner offered,

"So stay with me." Jem looked up at the man surprised, but couldn't take the smile from his face.

"Really?" A quiet moment of thought settled between them, and though the risk was great how could he deny this boy anything?

"Yes, but. We will have to keep it between us." With that he took out a small card and wrote down his address, and slipped it to the boy as he stood to clear their cups. Jem held the bit of paper to his chest a moment looking down at Jean-Luc now as if drawing warmth from the paper with the address.

"Thank you. I won't be any trouble. I promise."

"Its not you I'm worried about," The Professor's eyes settled behind Jem as Will stumbled through the door. His sunglasses still on his head, with his bedclothes beneath his coat, and even Jem looked surprised. He hadn't stayed the night last night, but he just assumed it was because he was studying late. But from the looks, Will hadn't slept at all.

Jem followed William to their normal seats, and so too did the rest of the class. The Professor took a few moments to allow them to settle, but stood to greet the class and prepare them for their lecture. However, just as he started to lure the class into the lesson a voice broke from the hall, and in walked a man that reminded Jem more of the bitter cold than any human could possess.

He was a tall man, one old enough to be his father, but even then looked as if he could break an arm like a twig. His long stern jaw was held defiant and displeased, but it wasn't until a pair of soldier's dressed in a dark gray with rifles poised and ready did even the Professor speak up.

"Valentine, what is the meaning of this?" Jean-Luc held his calm, despite how every student looked wide eyed at the soldiers. Jem knew the name, he was the president of the university, and took pride in the privately funded security that clearly was outfitted for war.

"In public, Jean-Luc, please refer to me in my proper title, and I'm in on a routine inspection Professor." Moving into the room the tall wrath of a man moved from the door to allow a few more men dressed in lab coats through.

"Inspection, Mr. President. Of what?" His dark eyes watched as more coats started to set up a small workstation right by the door. The entire ordeal had Jem's heart at his throat, and the air in his lungs closing. He knew. He knew what they were looking for. He had been careless in his research. They would have to know, and from under his desk he moved his hand to touch Will's leg. However, Will moved away from the touch, and lowered his sunglasses over his red-rimmed eyes.

"Infection, Professor. All I need is a little blood from every student, and you can continue on your class. It won't take long." The long workstation of the lecture hall was cleared of the Professor's notes, and a tray of vials placed out. Jean-Luc's face paled, further than the porcelain mask he already wore, and Jem thought for a moment that he truly was made of glass.

"I beg your pardon, but you can not walk in here and interrupt my class for something as Ludacris as this." With that Jean-Luc's long fingers curled around the edge of his cane as if prepared to use it as some sort of weapon on the vial creature, and Jem watched them panicked.

Will…what about Will. His heart pounded in his chest, as fast as a rabbits when he moved to get in the line that was forming. William stood before him stone-faced, and stiff.

"William," Jem whispered, "What are we going to do?" The bickering between the Professor and the school's President was faded now as all Jem could hear was his shaken breath and William's sigh,

"Nothing, Jem. We are not going to do anything. I'm going to be lined up with the rest of them and shot." He hissed without looking back at Jem, who he couldn't dare look at right now. The emotion and overwhelming guilt swelled in him, but he refused to let it show. He refused to let this get to him, but before he could move to possibly dart out the window—Jem brushed past his shoulders.

"You can't! Who do you think you are! You can't!" He moved through the lines like a rabbit bouncing as he went to be seen—heard over the sounds of the voices, and standing before Valentine now Jem had to strain his neck to even look the man in the eye.

Valentine upon closer inspection was as ugly as they came, yet handsome in his hateful ways. He had thin sinister eyes, with a long jaw that outlined his face, and his broad shoulders gave him a much stronger appearance this close than they did from his place in the line. The hatred there in his nearly black gaze made Jem feel as though he were three inches tall as they bore down on him like the night, and in this Jem realized he was exactly the opposite of Jean-Luc. Standing together they looked like a mighty force, but where the Professor wore his darkness like a beautiful cloak—Valentine wore it like a war.

"Start with this one." Valentine demanded taking the boy by the wrist and slamming it back on the table. Jem shouted while his pale little wrist was turned to accept the needle, but stopped his shouting when he felt those beautiful fingers, long and able, on his shoulder to soothe away.

I have a plan, they seemed to say with the touch of his palm, and when the Professor looked back in the line he realized a gunman was pointed at William, who clearly tried to escape the line to protect his heart.

"Be still, all of you. This will be over soon. No one here is infected you need not worry." Looking out on the rest of the class as they stood in line he realized his words were right. No one here seemed scared or shaken—not like Jem, whose outburst surprised him only long enough to put together that William was in fact positive.

Like a kitten mewling Jem whimpered as the needle plucked from his arm, and the vial placed in the tray with his number—not his name. Here in this horrid world they cared not for the name he was given—they were only numbers.

"Stand with me, Jem." The Professor extended his hand to accept him, and tucked him under his palm while the boy trembled. The silver shimmer of anticipation never worried of his own results, but his eyes never left Will. This was it. This was what would take him from this world. His body would be lined up in piles to be burned—ridding the world of the impure, and unclean. Jem so lost in his thoughts and worry didn't hear the drawer beside him open, he didn't realize the Professor slipped quietly a vial of blood from the confines of his desk—strange. Why would he…

Meeting Jean-Luc's eyes he realized without having to hear him speak it, the plan that his touch had promised. He would exchange them, one for the other, wouldn't he?

William took his turn, he offered his wrist that was already so used to the needles that made the drugs burn away the world, and his blood filled the glass like thick crimson paint; Jem's heart fell. He watched it, the vial, the entire length to which it traveled. Placed inside the tray with the rest, it could easily be mistaken with the rest, but he wouldn't let it go. He wouldn't let it be missed. Will's name wasn't on it, just his number, but the labels could be switched. He would have to be quick, the Professor would have to be very fast, and just as the thought crossed his mind one of the students started screaming—running for the door.

Infected.

The distraction was all Jean-Luc needed, and like a wrath diving from the night he moved to make the switch. With only a few motions the vial was protected, the labels changed very swiftly, and before Jem could even blink he held within his hands the warm sample.

"Professor, may I use the restroom?" Jem asked, but Jean-Luc waited for the President to give the clear. And with a nod of his head Valentine would release him to leave, and Jem darted for the door. At first he moved with ease, passing rooms one by one where the students were lined up, and he tried hard to not meet the eyes of the ones captured. They were on their knees with their hands behind their head facing the wall with gunmen at their backs waiting to transport them to camps where the infected were shipped, but Jem couldn't think about that right now. His heart hurt from beating so fast, and without thinking he simply started running.

He ran so fast that his lungs burned from the cold air that hit his face as he moved along the sidewalk. He wanted to get the blood as far from the campass as he could, but just as he reached the courtyard the ice took him captive and launched his body forward.

In his mind the fall had taken eternity, but truly only a matter of seconds passed before the white blanketed walkway was painted red with William's blood. The glass shattered, and when he was thrown forward it cut deep—but the pain never came. He hadn't time to feel the cut burn, for all he could think of was the blood that was now on his hands, wasn't his own—it was William's.

AN:

Thanks to everyone who is still reading. Ninja you are the best. A special thanks to Ky, even though I didn't ask her to Beta this one. I know she will totes rip me in a review, buuuut I didn't want to bother you!

I'm still here and alive, just super busy. This chapter isn't my best no, but I needed this chapter to go up so it could set up part 2 in Center of the Sun. (Which will have an update soon too)

Thanks all!