And Hal didn't. He knew too well what power and age did to a vampire. And he would never trust it, he'd yet to meet an Old One who wasn't insane. Well, Ivan perhaps, but even he had his midlife crisis girlfriend. Ivan, he'd be older, Hetty if she came here, Herrick, Even bloody Cutler.
"And doing this, it makes amends, it starts to make amends. I can do that if I can do nothing else."
Hal took her hand, eyes closing for a moment, before opening to take in her face, her expression, every part of her in case this went wrong somehow and he never saw her again. Oh she'd be there, they could talk on the internet but it wouldn't be the same. And he took her hand because he needed it, squeezed it as every inch of himself told him there was something pressing he needed to do first, told him he was better than this, he was an Old One. He was Lord Harry Yorke, he had commanded armies, people had died for offending him, by his hand or that of those that were sychophantic enough or useful enough to be recruited.
His eyes went black and he fought against it, fought against every feeling he knew was coming from that dark place in his mind.
He wanted a life. He wanted his soul intact. He wanted not to fear being around people. He wanted to kiss Alex and make up for every failing he had caused her.
"I wish to be human, with the memories of my long life, my actions, my deeds, both good and evil, to live a mortal life span."
The bauble vanished.
And so did Alex.
And so did...
He was still him, or was he...he was neither of who he had been.
He was both.
And Alex might have had a point about his hair.
"Please love, please, I need you to do this too now."