Jacob's skin was on fire, and simultaneously, he feared he'd die of cold. He could have sworn each exhale left his breath frozen in the air before him – or was it steaming? He couldn't tell. But surely he must be dying. Staying calm and focused through Evie's interrogation had been exhausting, and now he didn't have the strength to mask his pain any longer.

He had managed to struggle into a loose pair of trousers before collapsing onto his makeshift bed, and that's where he found himself now; face down into the lounge, trembling and curled into a ball. His abdomen was a twisted ball of agony, his joints were made of stone, and his vision came and went in hazy waves. His skin was covered in a fine film of sweat, and no matter what he did, he couldn't get comfortable. So lost in his pain, he lost track of time. Moans left his lips unhindered, but he couldn't hear them. All he could focus on was the pain. Behind his eyes, inside his head, ringing through his ears – tearing him apart.

"Apologies for my tardiness, darling," came a voice, and it was like a sheet of water down his back, pouring the pain away. His muscles shuddered, like a horse shooing a fly, and then relaxed all at once – melting down into the couch. He pressed his face into the cushions and nearly sobbed in relief. "It proved to be more difficult than I expected to find you."

And then there were fingers, long and graceful and familiar, winding through his sweat drenched hair. It was as though every ache, every hurt and every source of throbbing was immediately replaced with euphoria – filling him from the inside out with goodness and pleasure and comfort. Tears bled free from the corners of his eyes, unable to hold them back any longer, and Jacob let loose a long, shuddering sigh of relief.

"Oh dear heart," the voice said, stricken. Thumbs brushed his tears aside, leaving light pink trails along Jacob's feverish cheeks. Finally confidant that the pain would remain at bay, Jacob slowly opened his watery eyes to look up at the source of his salvation.

Maxwell Roth – beaming down at him with a look torn between worry and absolute awe, as though in the presence of a miracle. Jacob felt his still heart twist. This was the monster that had done this to him. He didn't want him to be the source of his relief. He didn't want to be grateful to the man that had caused this in the first place. He didn't want to be this way.

But more than all that, he didn't want Roth to leave – terrified of the pain that would surely follow.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Roth said, and Jacob could still hear the phantom echo of the last time Roth had said it. He shuddered. "If you had just stayed, dear heart. If you would just return to me, you could feel like this all the time. You could embrace your changes instead of curling up here in the dark, shaking and alone."

"M'not alone," Jacob murmured weakly, hating the tremble in his voice that lay audible between them.

"Oh?" Roth said, then pulled his hand away to gesture at the empty room around them. Jacob shivered, pain beginning to seep back into his muscles in the absence of Roth's touch. He nearly whined, and hated himself for it. "But where is your darling family at, dear?"

Jacob pursed his lips, unwilling to let Roth know that Evie was investigating a solution at this very moment lest it push the man into a rage – or worse, he tell him it was useless. Instead, he tried his best to glare at the man. By the amusement on Roth's face, it didn't work.

"They'll leave you, Jacob," the man said, returning his hand to run soothingly along the span of Jacob's burned back. The pain immediately fled. "Once they realize that humanity isn't at the top of the food chain and that you, dear thing, are. They'll lock you away. They're not your family…" Roth whispered conspiratorially, his mouth twisting into a long, chilling grin – fangs suddenly long and pearly in his mouth. "And when you realize this, you'll come back to me."

Jacob shuddered, the promise drawing his blood still.

"Evie would never do that," Jacob said, the words tentative even to his own ears.

"Oh? Did she not turn you away for less?"

Jacob looked away.

"It's alright, darling," Roth said, his hand returning to Jacob's hair. "She's a temporary thing to you now anyway."

"Don't touch her, Roth," Jacob growled, his confidence returning at what he thought to be a thinly veiled threat. Roth laughed, belly deep, and Jacob frowned in confusion – peeved not to be taken seriously.

"I don't need to, dear. She's mortal. Her life is but a candle's flame by comparison to ours, as quickly out as it was lit."

"N-no."

Roth scowled as energy suddenly rushed through Jacob and he found the young Vampire suddenly pulling himself away and crossing the train car. Jacob's hands trembled where they held his pants up his thin and wasting waist - the Change unkind to him in his current state of starvation. "You're weak. The Change is taking much from you. You need to drink."

"No," Jacob said, firmer now. "You need to leave. How did you get in here anyway?"

Roth stared at him from the lounge before he settled back, legs crossed casually – obviously not amendable to leaving at Jacob's demand. He smiled predatorily and held up one hand for Jacob to see. With a slow, graceful wave, Jacob watched as the man's hand disappeared into smoke before Jacob's very eyes, only to gather back into a solid hand once more.

"I could teach you."

"Get out."

When Roth only continued to watch him from his perch, Jacob forced himself taller and squared his jaw. He tried to ignore the mounting pain, growing from deep inside and slowly spreading. He tried, but after a minute he couldn't hold back the tremor any more. Roth smiled knowingly.

"You need me, Jacob," he said. "Let's cease this senseless game. Come home."

"I am home."

Roth sighed and a small, wry grin on his face as he shook his head, as if admonishing a particular cute but foolish dog.

"Alright, darling," he said. Jacob watched, wary, as Roth reached deep into a concealed inner pocket in the breast of his coat and procured a flask. He shook it at Jacob, the contents sloshing gently, and his grin spread. "We'll do things your way."

Jacob took another step back and cursed when the back of his hips found the edge of his desk – nowhere to go. He held one hand out as his gaze darted this way and that, looking for a weapon he knew he wouldn't find. He had insisted Henry take them all once Evie had left, after all. Damn it.

"What are you doing, Roth?" He asked, preparing himself despite his ever waning strength.

With catlike grace, Roth rose from the lounge. Jacob flinched when the telltale pop of the flask's top being removed shot through the room.

"You vomited your dinner, dear," Roth said, extending the flask to him. "And a growing boy needs to eat."

Jacob could smell it, and that alone made his stomach clench in protest. But God, how he wanted it. Drool pooled in his mouth, and his gums ached all around his canines. He bared his teeth and hissed, unable to articulate himself for a good moment as an animalistic need gripped his mind. He reached to brace himself against the desk and dug his hand into the edge hard, hoping the pain would draw some clarity. When the fog had passed, he raised his gaze to glare at Roth from beneath his hanging hair – furious.

"I won't do it again, Roth. Never again."

"That's very virtuous of you, darling," Roth said, taking a step closer, making Jacob growl. "But that sort of talk never lasts. I'd suggest drinking, or you might find yourself fangs deep in your sweet, beloved sister when your mind finally snaps on you."

Jacob looked to either door. He knew with the roar of the wind around them and the constant hum of the moving train, Henry wouldn't be able to hear him even if he yelled. And damn him, he had made them lock him in here from the outside. He was well and truly stuck in here with Roth until the monster saw fit to turn to smoke once more and leave of his own accord. How did he survive the sun, anyway?

"I'd never hurt her!"

"Not willingly," Roth conceded knowingly, "But hunger does things to a man. Horrible, horrible things. I'd like to spare you from that madness, darling. You need to drink, lest the Change corrode your mind. So your choices are simple. Take this flask willingly or I'll force it down your throat."

Oh, this man didn't know him very well, Jacob thought. The familiar heat of rebellion surged through him, burning away some of the pain as he smirked the same way he'd smirk when someone had him on the ropes in one of the seedier Fight Clubs. Come and get some.

"You can try."

Roth's smile twisted even further across his face, as manic as the red, gleeful glow of his eyes.

"Oh darling," he said, "This is why I chose you. Always so much fun."

Jacob didn't give him a moment longer to press his advantage. Instead he rushed forward, fists balled as he struck – but he might as well have been moving in molasses for all the good his surprise attack had done. Roth caught his fist as if his punch had been no more forceful than a gently tossed fruit. And then his hand clenched, grinding bone so hard that Jacob shouted. A second later, he found himself being pulled forward and spun around, his arm twisted up behind him and his knee kicked out from under him.

His knees hit the floor with a bang, scraping skin on impact, and just like that all his aches and pains came flooding back. Jacob gasped, head hanging loosely before him just as a forearm came and reached around his throat from behind – forcing his head up to look at the viper constricting him from behind.

Jacob struggled, his eyes panicked like a cornered animal as he stared at the flask Roth had in his free hand. His own hands struggled and pried at the vice like grip around his neck, and no matter how hard he squirmed, he couldn't get free.

"Don't," he said plaintively, trying to ignore how close it sounded to begging.

"Oh I didn't come here to force you, darling, despite what I said," Roth said, taking a deep, sensual whiff from the open top of the flask – eyes closing in bliss. And then those eyes snapped open, red like they had been in the Alhambra, and Roth grinned down upon him. "I'm just going to give you a little nudge in the right direction."

And then he lowered the flask beneath Jacob's very nose. Jacob tried to hold his breath - to no avail, and just like that, that animalistic hunger returned tenfold. It struck him hard, twisting his insides into furious cramps. No, his mind screamed as he struggled to maintain some semblance of self even as he bared his teeth and growled - his sight slowly succumbing to tunnel vision. He lunged forward to curl in on himself, only for Roth's ruthless grip to keep him in place. He cried out, he groaned, he grit his teeth. He wanted it. He wanted it.

"Please," he keened. But whether it was a plea to be released or to have that glorious liquid poured down his throat, he didn't know. He closed his eyes as pain wracked his body, urging him to partake. His nails bit bloody peels into the forearm around his neck.

And then as suddenly as Roth had brought him to his knees, he shoved him forward. Once he had his wits about him, Jacob whirled to find Roth on the couch again – splayed like a great and lazy cat – the flask on the floor between them gleaming innocently.

Even out from under his nose and across the room, he could smell it. Need pulsed inside him, creating a feeling identical to a heartbeat thrumming through his veins. He could still remember how the girl had tasted, and even though a fragment of his mind howled in agony at the reminder of what he had done, the taste – oh the taste– made him want it all the same.

On his knees, he looked between Roth and the flask and bit his lip.

"Imagine it, Jacob. Unlimited power. Those tricks your Brotherhood taught you are nothing in comparison to what I can train you to do. Imagine piercing through windows without heed of any locks. Sweeping through hallways without so much as a whisper. Seducing the minds of your foes to unlock doors for you, steal for you, murderfor you. Your enemies would quake in the presence of your shadow, darling, if you'd only let me set you free."

Roth stood then, smoothing out his elegant clothing as he did. He glanced down to the creature he had made, curled on the carpet as Jacob was, and smiled.

"The process cannot be reversed, darling, you've already made your kill. If you want out of this gift I have bestowed upon you, there are ways – very fatal, very permanent ways… But if you're ready to become more than what your stifling Creed allows, then drink," Roth said, splaying his arms out theatrically and bending at the waist, his eyes on Jacob all the while as he slowly backed himself into the shadows – only to become them. "And come and find me."

Jacob shuddered, his gaze darting to each corner of the room and back again, halfway expecting Roth to suddenly reappear and shove the flask down his throat. But the man never did. Instead, Jacob found himself alone again, the pain once again mounting without Roth's presence. His hands trembled as agony overtook his joints one by one, and Jacob couldn't help but stare at the flask transfixed. There in the train car, locked in from the outside, he sat.

Alone with nothing but blood, pain and his thoughts – Jacob quietly wept.

[a/n]

Hello wonderful people who have been reading and supporting this fic! I just wanted to give you a heads up that I'm going to Dragon Con this weekend for an extended trip starting tomorrow, and I won't be back until next Wednesday – which means, no updates in the mean time. Stay tuned though, more to come!