Temperance awoke the sound slow, low sound of a deep and sorrowful song. It thrummed deep in her heart as she listened to its melody, not saying anything just to enjoy the sound. The hospital room was white as the fresh-fallen snow, a soft grey light pouring in from the wide windows just as it had when she'd first woken from that dreamy slumber. The sound was something of a melodic grieving, Cyclonus' head bowed as he held her soft, pale hand. A tear rolled down her cheek as she felt the tremble of sadness deep within the song. It was soothing.

When Temperance finally parted her lips to speak her usually pepped voice came as a low croak, crackly like popping embers in the old woodstove. "It's so beautiful," she whispered, coughing. Blood spattered against her pale hand as tears bubbled in her eyes. So this was the end.

Cyclonus' face was somehow softer than before. Less urgency was written into his angular expression, the scowl even more of a neutral expression. It was calming. It made the young woman smile.

"How do you feel?"

"Mm… like I'm dying," she laughed, earning no return chuckles. "But I guess I lived… through whatever it was that was following me. I don't see them anymore. Haha… actually, I'm not sure if I can see much now," she said, lip upturning as she tried to hide her fear with a smile. Her vision was blurring and her legs felt numb. She was shutting down piece by piece.

The girl's chest hitched in a sob as her free hand came up to hide her eyes in shame. She was angry at herself for being so childishly afraid, but she didn't want to die. She just woke up and now death was dragging her back into the darkness. She was so scared. Then, something wild and brilliant came into her head. It was stupid and fear-fueled, but she was scratching for another moment at life. She didn't want to fade away just yet. "Would you… tur-," she began, the man grabbing her hand tighter.

"No," he said firmly, head downcast.

"Why not?" She asked, voice in a soft wail.

"You don't want to know what it feels like to go on forever," he whispered.

"You don't know what it feels like to not get the chance to live at all," she spat back, apologizing the moment the words left her lips. "I'm sorry… I'm… I just don't want to die. I still hope that it's a misdiagnosis and they'll come in and give me a miracle pill or…"

"Temperance," Cyclonus said firmly, hands on the young woman's shoulders. "Never hope."

"Why not?" She whimpered, eyes overflowing as her eyes struggled to focus the face above her.

"Because hope is a lie," he said solemnly, standing to his full height and moving toward the door.

"You'll end it for me, won't you? When it gets to the end?" She smiled weakly, trying to channel that painful optimism back into her voice. "You'll protect me from the dark… won't you?"

"I will do what is necessary," he said, leaving the room with a sigh.

Ratchet explained to Cyclonus that there really wasn't much else they could do for her but keep her medicated to avoid the pain. She was actually better off just taking a high dosage and going home to be alone and not cooped up in some medical facility in her final hours.

"Sign her papers and you can take her home," Ratchet handed him the clipboard with words so tightly packed together that they looked like dotted blocks.

"It's not her home," he said mindlessly.

"No? Well try telling her that when she kept saying that she wanted to see you and go home in her sleep before you came around to your humanity," Ratchet scowled, walking away in disgust.

The nurse's island in the middle of the ward was still as the man signed his name as best as he could, faking a last name. He hadn't even used it since he'd signed up for the first world war, but it would still work. He handed the papers back to the woman behind the counter quietly as he gave her a small vial of pills and nodded solemnly to him, wishing him a good day. But what good could come from that day?

Back in her room Temperance was now unhooked to three IV drips and a monitor, legs thin and frail in the black sundress Cyclonus had brought from their home. Their home? Right… the living space they shared together even if ever so briefly. It felt warmer even when Cyclonus was sleeping on the floor next to the woodstove, brighter even if the window blinds were never raised. It felt like a home.

The girl tested her feet and winced, looking up at him weakly. "I don't want the wheelchair," she muttered, looking at it as the nurse held it in place.

"I'm sorry, it's just a rule." She tried explaining.

"I think you can make this one exception," Cyclonus said, gaze and voice keeping the woman from arguing. She nodded agreeably and left. The man got on his knee and offered his arms. And just like in the snowy garden underneath the knowing eyes of the holy mother the ghostly girl fell into his arms once again.

The entire walk home Temperance held onto Cyclonus tightly, tears brimming in her eyes as she listened to that song that he hummed constantly. She savored the tight grip on her and the feeling of her own clammy skin against the pilot's. It was a kind of intimacy that she'd craved for so long. Her eyelids heavy she smiled as she felt him turn corner after corner and finally a rush of cool air.

For the first time ever they had gone through the lobby of the apartment building. No one stopped Cyclonus as he opened the service elevator door and pressed the C for ceiling. The ride up was rickety and loud as the gears pulled them up to the ceiling where the skies were overcast grey and winds icily swept over the tarred roof.

Inside the apartment it was warm with a well-lit fire going for some time. The altar had been lit once more with candles and offerings with something new lying on top. A picture that Temperance had stolen with Rewonda at the movie night, her bright, smiling face beaming and full of life, leaned against the statuette of the holy mother. It was there to bless the young woman and all Cyclonus could do was pray it worked.

Gently he rested the girl on top of the furs and quilts, tucking her in as he knelt by her side. She turned her head to the side and smile with dark shadows under her brilliantly bright eyes. More tears ran down her cheeks as she reached for Cyclonus' hand.

"You stopped singing," she croaked, smiling wide.

Taking the order the man opened his mouth once more in a deeply sorrowful song. He sang it softly, lightly to urge recovery and painlessness if possible at all. Just one more miracle… just one more.

Outside the sky, grey and dimming with heavy cloud cover, let a dust of snow sprinkle over the city. People stared up, some cursing the odd weather and some even smiling with a wonder as to what it signified. Nevertheless, soon the world was blanketed in a sharp cold and an atmosphere of togetherness, people rushing into coffee and bookshops to hide from the cold. Some were even talking of miracles, snowing twice in the summer. How odd.

Back up on the roof of the ornate, antiquated but restored to vintage charm apartment building, its face watching over a busy downtown filled with unique life and quaint nooks, it was more than still. The snow thickened against the roof and the room grew colder, but it had nothing to do with the weather. Temperance's face was dulling by the hour, smile nearly begging for some relief.

Finally, daringly, the woman asked again.

"If you won't… turn me, convert me, whatever it's called… will you kill me?" She asked, feeling the scratch of the void at the back of her mind.

"And what makes you think you want to live forever?" Cyclonus asked, hand still holding hers.

She rolled her head back to face the ceiling and thought briefly on the subject of eternal life. Sure, it was glamorized in the media and it seems like a good idea in the beginning until that inevitability of everyone else dying around you kicks in, but the only people around the young woman were vampires, banshees, harpies, doctors, and mysterious therapists that could or could not be magical. Most the people she knew and loved were already going to live forever.

"Because I don't want to die for nothing," she finally smiled. "I mean… sure… I stalled Tyrest and may have had a hand in saving the day, but… being the hero is overrated. I want to spend another night at the book shop with you or just lying on the roof and singing, even if I'm no good at it. I want to live for something, even if it seems small to you. I don't want you to be alone," she smiled, a hiccup and laughing sob escaping her softly. "I love you."

Cyclonus lowered his head and kissed the top of her hand for a long time. Another hiccupping sob escaped her as she felt the love radiate through her body. She that's what it was. Nothing else like it had filled her before. It was just perfect. The pilot held her hand tightly and sighed.

"You can't change your mind," he whispered. "It hurts like nothing else. It feels worse than dying," he explained, the young woman steeling herself.

"Being at death's door, I can almost promise you that it won't be worse than what I'm feeling," Temperance smiled, hugging the pilot's head to her chest. "I won't change my mind.

It was then that Cyclonus finally shoved Galvatron's words from his mind. He took a short dagger from his altar and held it in his free hand. He sucked in a long breath, grabbing onto the young woman's shoulder with the dagger-wielding hand once more. "Are you sure?" He asked, eyes sharp. She nodded slowly, biting back a cough.

When it happened it was like a blink. Cyclonus took the knife and shoved it between their wrists as they held hands, whisking it away and squeezing the wounds together. At first there was no pain, blood, or reaction, just a cold numbness. But almost as instantly as Temperance had adjusted to the feeling a sharp, needling pain began running through her arm. The girl's body went rigid as she ground her teeth, tears running from her eyes. She looked over to the pilot who was holding their hands together.

Cyclonus was bent at the knee as he held their wrists together, almost praying as he pressed his forehead to her hand. Tears rolled down her ghostly cheeks as the man tried to hold her still. She knew that she wanted this but she'd never imagine that it really was worse than the pain of slowly dying. Even more a fearful thought was that maybe this was the pain with her pain medication, too.

There was never anything romantic about being changed. It hurt worse than detoxing from the most potent drug and felt like the hardest high ever at the same time, all coupled with searing agony and fear. Movies and books always made it seem so simple and passionate, but it was nothing even close. No one ever turns someone for fun. Not just because it's in involved process, but because you have to be right next to the person and listen to them scream in pure, blood-curdling pain. Even now the screams in Cyclonus' ears burned, Temperance's own nails digging deep into his palm as she grabbed for some kind of relief.

Limbs shaking and mind screaming white, Temperance threw back her head and let out a scream that shook the apartment. Her throat burned when she stopped, but that pain felt barely like a pinch compared to everything else. Her teeth gritted as they throbbed, her eyes burning like she'd left them open too long. The thought she was going to die.

Like razor blades sluggishly running down her arm, the vampire's blood mixed with her own. She shook in agony, scream erupting from her ground teeth once more. She grabbed at the furs fitfully, legs shaking and heart pounding in her ears. The man at the source of the pain only fought back his own regrets. He felt her blood darken as his own was transfused into her veins. He could feel the light in her die.

The girl was kicking at the bed and leaning up, digging sharpened nails into Cyclonus' shoulder. Tears ran freely as blood pooled beneath her nails. She panted in exhaustion as it reached her heart, every vessel and vein filled with the new darkness. It burned in her skin like a sunburn from the inside out, her entire being a frayed nerve ending. Finally, the feeling slowly, faintly dimming, a wave of starvation filled the girl. Her eyes were sharp and clear as she pulled back, suddenly afraid of the hunger that filled her. It didn't come from her stomach but deep in her bones as if she was hollow inside. Even so, her hand never left Cyclonus' grip.

"Wh-what is this?" She asked, looking around and noticing just how alive everything was. She could hear the sizzle and pops of the wood stove like nothing she'd ever heard and the throb in the pilot's neck was like a buzzing beacon against his skin.

"It's your first hunger. And whatever you do next… it's okay. You don't need to ask."

Temperance, her hand shaking, reached out. She touched Cyclonus' face with wide eyes, pulling him close. She could see so much more. His eyes were so many brilliant shades of red and the depth n his eyes was no longer fearful, but lively. The pilot was, to the say the least, shocked. He watched as Temperance pulled him close to her just inches apart. She seemed so intrigued by something, her face blank with childish curiosity.

Then, almost daringly testing the waters of experience, the young woman pressed her lips to Cyclonus'. The pilot jolted, but didn't pull away. He'd already given the girl a full pass to do whatever felt right. He felt her warm, soft lips against his own and closed his eyes. For a brief moment it was an awkward tangle of sensations for Temperance as Cyclonus led her through. She felt their lips part briefly only connecting again, her skin buzzing. But then another part was going to get the best of her. She slid from the kiss and pressed her face against his neck.

Cyclonus simply held the young woman as she did was she knew need to be done: everything in necessity. Temperance's heart throbbed as she stared deeper and more intently at someone's neck than she had ever done before. She breathed against the skin and the vein rose to the surface. Not waiting for explanation her teeth sunk into the skin. She was shocked just how sharp they'd become, but the other part of her only wanted more.

The blood that filled her mouth was thick and complex, not just bitter and iron-tasting like licking a wound when she was a kid. It was smoky and dark, rich and savory, even sweet some tastes. It was better than anything she'd ever tasted, her mouth filled with the indulgent liquid. She gulped it eagerly, the hunger subsiding slowly as she pulled Cyclonus tighter against her teeth. The pilot gave a hiss of pleasure as the girl licked her lips clean, resting her head against his shoulder. It had been a very long time since someone had sank their teeth into his skin and he'd forgotten the sensation. He dug scratch marks into the wood of the bed frame, biting back the urge to throw the young woman off.

"I'm sorry," Temperance whispered as she pulled away, teeth still sharp in her mouth. She'd never had so little self-control in her life.

"I told you not to apologize. I nearly emptied Galvatron my first bite," he explained, sighing in relief that the blood had taken.

Then, the flurry of everything coming to her, Temperance realized what she had done. She sat back on her haunches, blinking and taking it all in. Everything was crystal clear and even her hearing was sharper than ever. It was almost sensory overload without a focus. Cyclonus however, was lifting her lips to check her teeth, giving her a focal point. "Your teeth…"

"What… what, don't tell me…" She asked, searching the man's face for an answer.

"No… they're just double-pointed. Your canines and your lateral incisors are sharp too," he stared, wondering.

"What does that mean?" She asked, licking over the teeth.

"We'd have to talk to Galvatron. He knows more," the pilot nodded, standing until the young woman's hand reached out and pulled him back down. "What?"

"D-do… do we have to go?"

"As opposed to what?"

"Just… staying here… together," she said, shrugging as if it didn't really matter even though she wanted it.

A moment of awkward silence bounced in the air as Cyclonus gave a defeated sigh. He finally took that heavy black coat off and showed his full frame. He was tall, but he was well built. Temperance's gaze lingered as he kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed. He reached out and rubbed a finger over her soft cheek. He was so glad that her brilliant optimism and those gleaming blue eyes didn't fade. So many lost individuality to the dominance of the red of the blood; it was a nice surprise to see that something had worked out in the end.

Temperance, a newfound sense of confidence in her since she'd successfully distracted a blood-thirsty lunatic, survived terminal cancer, and had become something entirely non-human, pulled Cyclonus close. Not in a sexual way, but just in a craving for physical closeness. The pilot met her halfway, lying down with her on the bed. The girl pulled him close in a hug, just breathing in all the new scents she could smell. But most of all just in peace. She'd wanted to be close to him for so long and now there was no excuse for her not to be.

"I love you," she whispered, curling her body into the curve of Cyclonus'.

The man pondered the phrase for a long time, feeling its depth and resonance. It was like a warm throb of peace in him, his arms wrapping around the seemingly small young woman. He closed his eyes and smiled just out of her range of sight. He sighed, pulling her close and murmuring that song. Temperance's smile was nearly uncontainable.

"Louder…" She chuckled, nestling close to his chest. "I love your voice."

And so, as the snow blanketed the world outside in a peaceful, silent miracle, Temperance drifted into the deepest, most peaceful sleep in her life in Cyclonus' arms. She didn't fear the darkness of her closed eyes anymore, but relished in the sweet melodies, no longer dark and heavy. It felt like finally she'd let go of a great weight. Wrapped in the furs and quilts stitched with patience and history Temperance breathed out the pain and felt her life bloom anew, even in the peaceful grey light of another miracle snow.

That night against the horizon and behind the thick cloud cover a beautiful, massive, golden moon would rise over the city. Its light soaked any object it could reach as Temperance, dressed in the simple black sun dress and a long blue peacoat, strode beside her companion Cyclonus. She walked with confidence and Cyclonus' directions to the dark alley. It was long and narrow, but at the end was that distinct crimson door with the eye slot. She stood back and let the taller man ahead. He knocked twice on the door and waited, looking back at the young woman who was smiling brightly. She nodded.

The slot slid open with a loud metal clang. The eyes, rich greens, stared at the man for a long time before asking something in Russian. Cyclonus replied, not missing a beat, the man behind the door nodding.

Inside the room was dark and the path was lit only by theater style floor lights and overhead can lights that cast a dim, seductive glow over the red path. Music throbbed from below, the night club beneath the earth but the melodies defiantly reaching upward. Temperance walked with her head dipped ever so slightly behind Cyclonus who held her hand from the front. He seemed to know where they were going and what to do, even though she'd been told twice why they were at the very strange place that smelled like smoke and sweetness.

Finally, coming to a wide metal door, they stopped, Cyclonus rolled his ruby red eyes and spun the massive lock dial on the side and scanned his hand on a digital pad. This seemed all very complicated for meeting someone, but Temperance never voiced that opinion. She only watched as the door slid back and a massive, ornate room was revealed.

Still holding Cyclonus' hand she took a step inside and stared all around the room. The bookshelves that were set in the wall were a dark wood with carved vines along their ends, the floor covered in a beautiful antique rug. The desk was just as impressive as well, the man sitting behind it beaming like a proud uncle. He stood, his height having Temperance craning her neck. Was she just the shortest person in the world was everyone around her just freakishly tall?

"So this is the empath I never hear the end of," Galvatron beamed. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I still don't know what that means. Everyone keeps calling me that and I still don't know what that is," Temperance sighed, slightly behind Cyclonus as she spoke. When her lips parted, however, Galvatron's eyes widened.

"So you decided," the war lord nodded.

"No, she did," Cyclonus corrected him.

Both of the older men idling there for a second, looking at Temperance, they decided to broach the subject with bluntness. Galvatron leaned back against his desk, looking down at the girl.

"So tell me… how does it feel?" He asked, Cyclonus taking his own steps back with folded arms.

"Not dead."