First of all, very rude of my legs to not work. I don't usually fall over, but I also never find myself trying not to die.

I hadn't even run anywhere, and my entire body was pounding onto itself as if someone injected me with an overdose of stimulant for a battle I never fought. It was like I didn't burn all of it off in some amazing gladiator wrestling match to the death or something, and now all of my organs were raving, trying to burst from my skin.

Astarion started walking towards me, and maybe it was the blood on him, or his unkempt feral appearance, or the fangs and red eyes, (I don't know, pick one) but I started scrambling away, backing up towards the car.

It was darker. The fire seemed much more dim. Perfect setting to become a vampire's next meal. Because a bear surely wasn't that satisfying to someone who could eat humans.

But it was difficult to stand, the after-effects of all that adrenaline making mgy vision blurry. My ears were ringing and I could feel my heart in my mouth. In efforts to move away from him, I only succeeded in doing a messy scramble, my palms pushing in the dirt while my legs wobbled about stupidly.

Astarion was only a few feet away, looking down at me. I forced my eyes to focus on his face, shadowed by his back to the fire. I refused to look away from my killer.

Despite fighting back re-emerging fear, I decided that his face wasn't the worst last thing to see before having the guts and life sucked out of you-

"Are you alright?" He squatted, so he was at my eye level. Oh. (Just kidding on the whole 'he's going to kill me' thought process, then.)

His eyebrows furrowed and he wore a small frown of concern. This close, I could see more detail. He had scratches acrossed his chest, probably from falling. Dirt clung to the hair around his ears, and there was more blood, like spilled coffee, on his shirt than anywhere else. He had rolled up his sleeves, revealing that his forearms were also dirty and splattered with blood.

Why did he have to look right into my eyes like this?

He leaned back, detecting my thoughts after reading my facial expression, which must have looked terrified. "I'm not…not going to hurt you." His gaze softened, and he admitted, "Actually, if it weren't for you, I never would have found that stupid creature." He looked down in disappointment at himself.

I stared at him, but he continued, "I managed to find several small but rather disappointing creatures, tracked this bear around the whole blasted forest, only to hear you. I thought…" He paused, contemplating, "Well, it doesn't matter. The point is, thank you. Your…noises brought me back here, and a decent meal resulted from it all."

What a lame way to make me feel assured he wasn't going to kill me. 'A decent meal', my ass. As the chemicals ebbed away, Astarion stood back up and held out his hand.

Fuck it. Why not?

Taking it, he pulled me to my feet, which miraculously decided to work as if nothing had happened. Stupid legs.

"You never answered my question." Astarion pointed out, walking back to the bear.

"Um..what-"

"Are you alright?" He repeated, looking at me from behind the dead bear.

I had to think for a moment.

Wait, OUCH.

I looked at my hand, the one I used to throw the rock. It was throbbing mildly. I didn't see any scorch marks and it didn't feel completely burnt, but it did feel like I singed a layer of skin off my fingers, mostly. Fuck. That actually kind of hurt. The adrenaline was receding, and I could feel every tinge on my fingertips. Curling my fingers was going to be a challenge.

Astarion waited patiently, watching me stare blankly at my hand like an idiot. I'm sure he figured it out by now, though.

Speaking slowly, I responded, "Um…yeah. Think I just burned my hand a little. Or maybe more than a little." I did not want to see what this looked like tomorrow morning.

Astarion dragged the bear further away from camp, into the darkness. It left a huge trail, but at least it was gone. Then, he re-emerged from the darkness, like a … vampire. Digging for something in his pocket, he made his way towards me.

"Hopefully, this works in your world too. Does wonders for me." He pulled out a small red bottle from that same pocket, grabbed my hand with a gentleness I didn't know he had, and dropped a few drops on it. Dazed, I let him do this, trying to understand why he bothered. I watched the shadows from the fire dance around his face, his red eyes concentrating amidst the darkness around us.

As soon as the liquid touched my hand, it felt better. At first, it stung where he touched it, but it immediately dissipated when he massaged the liquid around. Then, despite this weirdly intimate thing he was doing, he looked up from studying his work and asked, "Does that feel better? Or did I just spread pointless goo all over your hand?"

I flexed my finger, and the throbbing pain had disappeared. The skin felt normal again and it smelled like mangoes. As he pocketed the bottle, I answered, "Yeah. I think it's gone. Or you've completely eviscerated my nerve endings so I feel nothing."

Astarion smiled playfully, in a way that made me retreat inside myself a little, "What makes you think I would want to hurt you like that?"

Fatigue was now ready to suck me under to the depths of sleep, and I super did not feel like talking about feelings. This game he played was confusing, and my brain could not handle confusing right now.

So instead of answering, I dropped my hands, and curtly said, "I'm going to bed."

Fuck work. They'd be fine. I opened the car door to let Sarge out, who immediately checked us both out with sniffs, then went to investigate the trail leading to the bear, which I didn't bother telling him off.

Astarion just looked at me. "You're welcome?" He offered.

"Thank you for using a magical unknown substance that hopefully won't have side effects and for not killing me, even though I'm almost never sure you actually don't want to kill me. Good night." I stomped to my tent, took off my jacket, shoes, and crawled inside.

I heard Sarge licking something, presumably Astarion, who replied barely above a whisper, "You're welcome." Without even zipping up the tent, I closed my eyes. If another bear wanted to come inside and eat me, so be it.

Astarion paused, waiting for Blue to say something. But she didn't. After an hour, Astarion presumed she'd fallen asleep. Poking his head in, he checked, and his suspicion was confirmed. The steady rise and fall of her shoulders indicated she was surely not conscious, and he was free to ponder without the consideration of another active mind.

Sarge followed Astarion around, seemingly unbothered by his bloody, dirt-covered appearance. Pouting, Astarion managed to find the river nearby and bent down to wash his hair, face, and neck. He pulled off his shirt, ignoring some of his aches from being toppled by a bear, and rinsed it in the freezing water.

Sarge watched him. In the dark, he could barely see Sarge's outline, the fire in the distance barely illuminating either of them.

Astarion sighed. "Do you know why she's upset? I couldn't be more thrilled, personally. Saved from a bear, injuries healed, whatever else could she possibly want?" Sarge tilted his head in response, but no answer.

The elf felt his chest, the scratches already fading, along with the bruise that he was pretty sure he earned from the bear, behind his shoulder. He had managed to land on the thing, but it responded by throwing him off with a roll, and part of his shoulder had been caught underneath, crushing him a little.

Not that Blue seemed to care. But he wasn't sure she saw all of that. It was all quite fast, like their battles on the road in Faerun. And, if he was being honest with himself, he'd rather die than tell her or anyone else about how he was hurting.

Wringing out his shirt, he returned to the fire and spread it out near the rocks. It was dimming, so he spent the next hour grabbing twigs, breaking them to an appropriate size for the fire. By the time he was done with it, it was ablaze, raging. The flames licked high, reaching upwards like tendrils.

He spotted Sarge's temporary tent and his blanket. The dog was sitting outside of Blue's tent, lying down but on guard, eyes flickering in different directions of the darkness, ears perched. Astarion dragged Sarge's tent closer to Blue's. At first, he didn't move. But eventually, Sarge crawled into his temporary home, and began snoring.

The stars above Astarion's head twinkled. He sat, trying to dry his pants near the fire, gazing upwards. He wondered if his companions in Faerun were trying to find him. Had they thought he was dead? Would they mourn? Likely not, the vampire thought.

He closed his eyes, and the memory of Blue's face greeted him. She was scared of him. She had backed away, her eyes darting from him to the bear. After all this time, did she really believe he'd hurt her? It seemed like a ridiculous idea to the elf. It's not a habit he'd made yet - killing people. And certainly, by now, she'd trust her? Astarion frowned up at the stars, frustration pulling at his gut.

Astarion had spent centuries of people being afraid of him, in more than one way. It never bothered him like it did now. He needed Blue to trust him, so he wouldn't have to be…alone. That was his real fear, the one that haunted him, bit at his chest when Blue shut her door, and when she refused to speak to him.

Wandering alone in Seattle was nothing like venturing in Faerun. He felt lost in this fast world where things could run over him at any time. Where people called him weird names that he didn't understand, but he knew were insults. And the worst part, he didn't understand the extent of how much he could fight back. He couldn't attack without knowing the escape route, and it seemed this place had none.

Shaking his head, Astarion exhaled, his breath a white cloud in the night air. He needed Blue, at least for now. Navigating back here on his own seemed impossible, so until he could do so (and that was just for feeding), he had to take advantage of this relationship. He'd done it so many times, what was once more?

A sickening feeling swirled in his stomach. Was it guilt? Maybe, he was just convincing himself that he was taking advantage of the situation. Maybe, he secretly liked Blue and her unseen fire. The way she cursed at another driver on the way here made Astarion smile.

The way she picked herself back up when that bag knocked her over reminded him of himself. Except she laughed it off, made it a humorous moment to enjoy, rather than an irritating one to endure, like he would have done.

She knew so much about this place, and had an air of sensitivity to him that made Astarion more cautious of how he spoke. And there was an air of survival on her, it seemed, something he guessed wasn't a born way of living, like him. He sensed something terrible occurred between her and this 'Dalton'. Perhaps, he was like her Cazador.

Astarion sat up, and looked at her tent. She had left it open. No sense in sleeping on the dirt. Tiptoeing over, he climbed in and sat next to Blue, who was facing away from him, snoozing. He dared a small smirk, and laid on his back, staring up at the fabric of the tent, the night still.

"Are you telling me that you lost Astarion?" Shadowheart seethed, arms crossed.

Gale, who found it hard to gaze into her eyes when she was angry, especially at him, shrugged. "Now now, let's not phrase it like it was my fault-"

"It IS your fault. You were with him, and now you're not." She pointed this out with such fire that Gale went into defensive mode lest he be incinerated on the spot. In camp, no less.

"Look, I haven't the faintest idea what happened, ok!? It was like, he was there, then he wasn't. We were running, I was casting a spell-"

"Oh, you were casting a spell, how surprising-" Karlach started from afar, but Shadowheart cut her off, "let him finish."

"Anyways, I was attempting to just get us out of there, and so was he, but…" Gale stopped. Dread filled his face like water overflowing from a cup.

"Oh, well, that's one way to do it, I guess." Gale made a 'huh' face.

"Do what?" Shadowheart asked hands on her hips.

"If I'm not mistaken, and, don't blow me away for this, because it's partly his fault too, but I think he may have transcended the material plains to another, well, material plane." Gale paused, as if checking his internal math, then with a not-so-happy-but-I-figured-it-out smile, he concluded, "Yep. That's what I think happened to our surly, pale vampire friend. I'd heard of such a thing before, but thi-"

"Wait, so you've gone and blasted him to another fucking planet?" Karlach stomped over, tail whipping back in forth with annoyance. She too had adopted the arms-crossed appearance.

"First of all, no, I specifically didn't. And it could be a planet or an entirely different star system. I'm not sure of anything really. He could just be dead." Gale said. Shadowheart and Karlach glared at him. Two beams of daggers even the most powerful sorcerers couldn't withstand for long.

The sorcerer quickly added with waves of his hands, "But, I highly, highly doubt it. Bastard's tough as his fangs. We both used some form of teleportation on both of us at the same time, in a situation where you could easily make a mistake. It's a known rule in magical affairs to avoid such circumstances."

Gale could feel the pulses of heat radiating from Karlach. "Why didn't you tell him that before trying to use any of that stuff in your escape?" Karlach questioned.

"I figured someone like Astarion would know!" Gale scoffed, "Again, why is this my fault?" Gale asked, gesturing to himself.

"Stop fighting. It no longer matters whose fault it is. We need to figure out how to find him. Then we can focus on getting him back." Shadowheart affirmed.

"Yeah, and how the hell we gonna do that? He could be literally anywhere else. Even if he was still in Toril, that alone is an impossible search." Karlach spat grumpily.

Gale suddenly perked up and concluded, "We need to find someone who's been to another material plain and returned. I might know where one is."

I awoke to the sound of water and nearby trees rustling. What a weekend.

I fall onto a vampire. Offer him coffee. Stop him from murdering my ex (should have let that one go, really). Go camping with him. Almost get killed by a bear. Worry the killer of the bear was going to kill me.

Fucking wonderful. At least right now I was still alive. I guess Astarion-

(speak of the devil) I jumped and nearly screamed. I sat up and glanced to my left, where a sleeping Astarion was lying on his back. He looked much cleaner, but his shirt was nowhere to be found.

Where the fuck was his shirt? It's early October-

Fuck it. Never mind. Who knew how vampires preferred to sleep, shirtless or not. I quietly put on my shoes and jacket, and slipped out silently. No wonder it was cold, the tent wasn't shut.

And did he move Sarge's tentbed over? He must have. Sarge heard me and sleepily walked out, stretching.

Instinctively, I tiptoed to the car, and grabbed his kibble from the bag in the trunk. Astarion must have put everything in the car too. I hit my forehead. I can't believe I just left the bag of food out too. Another bear should have come and eaten me with how stupid I had been.

Pouring kibble into a rubber dog bowl for Sarge, I took a moment to look around.

The dead bear was further away than I thought. I couldn't smell it at all, but I could see it way out in the distance. A dark lump of fur, motionless. Astarion's prey. Maybe that was going to be me one day.

I had to stop thinking like this. If he wanted me dead - well, I've said it so many times to myself, I had to start believing it. He had so many chances last night. And here I was.

The fire was completely out, and I saw Astarion's blood-stained shirt splayed out next to it. I walked towards it and spotted the rock I threw at the bear. Glancing down at my hand, it looked and felt normal. What was that stuff that he rubbed into my hand?

The memory rushed in, and disbelief shook me. He was so gentle, even as he was spreading it around my burning skin. The way his face was barely lit with the shadows, and how his eyes seemed full, more present. And his touch was warm, not so cold as before, in the car. In the moment, he was caring, careful not to spook me. I didn't think he'd butter his prey before attacking, or else I'd be dead.

My nature against trusting others, or assuming their reason for tolerating me wasn't out of personal gain ran deeper than a primal instinct to survive. And even then, I felt a pull when I was around anyone as if I didn't belong. As if, for some reason, I wasn't meant to be there. Isolated among friends. Isolated within myself.

Maybe this was the universe trying to give me a friend. A very sassy, complex friend. One that Sarge wouldn't openly attack. And one that wouldn't try to hurt me every time they were angry with me. Astarion hadn't been too upset with me yet, as far as I knew. I suppose I'd find out if he was violent, in that way, if I did piss him off.

After Sarge was finished eating, he brought me his bowl. Sarge followed me as I grabbed it, washed it by the river, then returned to find my pale bear-killing buddy stretching near the dead fire, his back to me.

His back sported many scars in a pattern that looked like some sigil in some ancient language. It was perfectly centered, his muscles contouring around it. It felt like some sort of branding, and it sent shivers down my spine in a way that even cold water wouldn't be able to do.

During that lovely exchange, I could recall something burning through the flesh on my back. It must have been from that. The pain I felt from his sharing of memories made my fingers twitch.

Sarge trotted up to Astarion, smiling up at him, his tongue lolling out. "Ah. Hello my furry friend. I'm sorry you didn't get to take part in the action last night." He reached out, and pet Sarge's head, and gave his neck a good jostle, (which was like giving a massage to a large dog.)

I carefully walked up to bend down and grab Astarion's shirt. As I straightened back up, he'd turned in my direction to face me, shirtless, smiling. He looked almost brand new.

"Looks like you got some rest." I said awkwardly. Holding out his shirt, he took it with ease. I cleared my throat, trying not to look at his very sculpted - and I mean sculpted - front side. I mean, the abdominal muscles and chest were not supposed to look like exactly like those Roman statues. Statues were models of ideals. Perfectionism of the time.

Astarion looked like one of those statues, except he was living. Breathing.

"I did, thank you very much. It's easier when you've had dinner, so to speak." He put his hands on his hips, refusing to put his shirt on.

Great.

"Um, right." I pulled out my phone from my jacket pocket to check the time. It was 10:24 am. Ignoring the multiple messages from work, I put it back in my pocket.

Astarion was watching me. "I've seen almost everyone with those things. What is it?"

I started making my way to the tent to break it down. "A phone. It has that digital touch screen I mentioned yesterday." I opted not to bring up his comment on touch screens.

"What does it do? People seem to spend a lot of time just staring at it." Well, I'd rather stare at it than your body right now (but, you know, not really. I was just upset right now, ok?).

"It's used for communication. But it does other things too. It's mostly an entertainment device." I dragged my sleeping bag out from the tent and began to fold it. Astarion watched me carefully before responding, "What's so entertaining about it?"

I did not feel like talking about this right now.

"Look, Astarion, I'm not really…I just want to pack all this and leave. I think…maybe, we shouldn't talk right now."

Astarion didn't hesitate. "Why not?"

Shoving the sleeping bag into the sleeve with more irritation than I meant to let on, I grimaced, trying to think of a response.

Because, the longer I was around him, the more I discovered things about him. And the more I learned about him, the more intrigued I was to discover who Astarion truly was behind the facade of charismatic retorts and flourish.

Because the last time I liked someone, I only gained terrible memories. Broken bones. Scars. Rage.

And because, maybe, I secretly liked him more than I wanted. It was crazy to find commonalities and sentiments for a vampire from another universe. One that could easily benefit from killing you rather than being your friend.

The more times I reminded myself that he was supposed to find his way back to where he came from, the more I felt the impact of what life might look like afterward. And it didn't feel good. I never believed that you could miss something that wasn't already gone. I'd scowl, and ask, 'what stupid emotional attachment would make you ever feel like that?'. I'd asked Harley about that right before her ex dumped her. At the time, she sensed it was coming, and explained to me how that felt.

And now, I understood exactly what she meant. Astarion didn't belong here and to feel anything for him was not the wise, or smart thing to do.

Says the person who picked up a burning rock and threw it at an angry bear.

Says the person that let someone like Dalton into my life.

Says the person who fell onto a red-eyed vampire and invited him into my home immediately afterwards. Drunk.

"Because, the longer I talk to you, the harder it is to admit that you belong in your world." Astarion looked at me intently now, listening, but not hurt. I continued, "And I don't mean that I don't want you here, or that I think you're something that should be cast out. I mean this world is fucking cruel. There aren't monsters to fight, no exciting adventures. Just humans. Asshole humans. I might even be one of them. And I think you deserve better. You deserve your life back in Faerun. Your friends."

As I said the words, the honesty in them shocked me. Of course, I didn't believe a lie would work with Astarion. The payoff was that a weight was lifted from my shoulders, but I immediately feared he'd agree, and then request to be left alone forever. Maybe that was what he wanted, and maybe that was for the best.

Astarion pursed his lips in thought. Though he wasn't upset, he seemed like he was trying to consider his best response.

Finally, he did. "In truth, I worried that I perhaps scared you from a point of return last night. So, I'm relieved to hear that you don't wish me banished from your company. And, you're right. I do deserve better. I deserve not to be called names or gawked at from these ugly 'cars'," he made parenthesis with his fingers, "or the beings that wield them. You say there aren't any adventures. But for me, it's been an adventure since you first threw yourself on me." He smiled, then continued with a serious expression, "And cruelty." he laughed dryly, "is something I'm immune to beyond repair. There is nothing you could do to me, in this moment, that surpasses the cruelty I faced when I was in Cazador's Palace."

I recalled flashes of his time there and shuddered. He was right.

"Except," he paused, speaking quietly, "if you were to decide that you no longer wanted to be in my presence, or speak to me in any capacity. I've spent decades on my own. It is only recently that I have learned to tolerate others alongside my newfound freedom." I looked down at the word, tolerate.

"But, you, Blue," He stepped a little closer and placed a hand on my shoulder momentarily before continuing, "are the first in which I do not merely tolerate, but enjoy. It is true that my 'friends' are worlds away. Universes, even. But the friend closest to me, right now, is you. And I don't hurt my friends, I protect them, as best I can, until they decide to toss me aside like a dead rat, like a being of no use to anyone anymore."

Removing his hand from my shoulder, he looked into my eyes. He was getting really good at that. I wasn't very practiced at resisting it, either.

"Well, that was…a comprehensive response." Ugh, I was the stupidest human alive.

Astarion grinned, genuine. "It's one of my better ones, I must admit." He turned serious again. "But I mean it. You are all I've got right now. Yet, I consider myself rather lucky."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, both in relief, and understanding.

"Then…I'm glad to be your friend, Astarion." I held out my hand in a handshake manner. Astarion shook it, warmth radiating from his palm. He nodded.

We cleaned the campsite together, gathering the tent and smothering the fire pit. I folded up Sarge's blanket, packed everything like Tetris into the trunk, and shook out the backseat hammock for Sarge. He needed a bath, unlike Astarion who permanently smelled like smoke, my favorite smell.

After everything was accounted for, I started back on the road to the apartment. We didn't speak as much, only functionally, but I felt a contentedness between us. A settling of wills and motivations felt like a vibrant new energy. It was like we operated on the same wavelength now, together. The fears absent for both of us. I wasn't leaving him alone, and he wasn't going to drain the blood from my carcass.

But once we reached the city, I got a call from Harley.

I answered with the car controls. "Dude, where the hell have you been?! You still hangin' over?"

I smiled, surprised to be happy, hearing voices besides my own, "No. I just uh," I glanced at Astarion, who shrugged, "went camping and got sidetracked. I'll be back tomorrow."

Harley made a sound that sounded like a quick, exasperated exhale. "Ok well, we just had a meeting with all the writers and apparently, Augustine's changed the Halloween party to the end of this week."

I nearly slammed on the breaks. "What? Wha-why?"

"Dunno, maybe she wants an early start on her retirement or some shit. But the crew (her affectionate term for Jesse, herself, and Alex) are going to the bar tomorrow to figure our shit out."

Earlier, Jesse and Harley were going to make matching costumes, but that was when they thought they had two more weeks. Alex was going to help them out. But, I sensed they just wanted to find an excuse to drink before Friday.

"Uh, I mean," I glanced again at Astarion, who raised his eyebrows and asked, "A bar? Sounds delightful."

With a grin I could practically hear on her face, Harley immediately asked before I could hit the car's mute button, "Who's that?"

"Uh…a friend. I met. While camping?" I did NOT sound convincing, and even Astarion winced.

"Right. The next time you hook up with someone on a Monday in the middle of the woods, tag me along, yeah? And also," she paused to clear her throat, "the stakeheads wanna cut our scenes."

Now I really had to try not to slam on the breaks.

"No. Fucking. Way. No way. Tell me you're joking." I tried not to scream.

"It's not a final decision, but, we could have used you in the meeting earlier. It's apparently, 'too much work' for them to consider-"

"Fuck this. I'm calling Jason." Before Harley could protest, I hung up and punched in "Jason" using the car's phone app. Astarion was looking at me, curiosity for the drama weaving a smile on his face.

I gritted my teeth as he picked up, trying not to see red.

After he picked up, he said, "Blue! Nice to hear from you. I thought you were sick tod-"

"Jason, I'm only going to ask you this once," in the corner of my eye, Astarion was watching me with interest, "are the scenes I wrote, that WE wrote, for two months, being cut, because of executive pussyfooting on the final quarter of development? You know that would kill the team, and me."

Silence. "Jason, if you tell me anything but the truth, anything but total transparency," I thought about my words carefully, "then we aren't friends".

I heard Jason clear his throat, "It's up in the air, as far as I know. But the stakeholders think it's a lot of work to keep since Augustine's leaving. They think her absence will cause a delay in the shipping, so they looked to the unfinished content to cut. It's not final, but those stakeholders will be at the Halloween party. Maybe you can convince them otherwise."

Jason exhaled like a deflated tire.

I grit my teeth so hard, I thought I'd break them. "You need to convince them. You're a stakeholder. Tell them how I will find their mothers and decapitate them if they think that is a remotely good idea." Astarion raised an eyebrow, amused.

Jason stifled a laugh, but replied with heaviness, "You know they won't listen to me. No one understands the sequences better than you. Just," he made a sound between a cough and scoff, "show up at the party and tell them about your work. I know you hate that shit, but you're the only one that can woo them over. And you have the advantage: they don't really know you."

Yeah, hence the cuts.

I bristled. "Fine. Thanks for being honest. See you later." Hanging up without waiting for a response, my fingers tightened on the wheel. Sarge whined in the back, and poked his head between me and Astarion, who looked amused.

"Trouble in paradise, I take it?"

I growled, "Oh, trust me, it's not my paradise that's in trouble. It's going to be theirs."

I pressed down on the gas pedal and sped us toward the city, my energy renewed for a different kind of fight.

This was the kind of fight not against bears, or vampires. But against those who dare screw me and my writing team over.

And for this fight, I didn't need adrenaline or rocks. But I was going to need something I potentially didn't have: persuasion and charisma.

Challenge accepted.