The Universe's Mixer

Eric gripped the handle of the bag he'd packed, a tote filled with clothes and anything else that could travel which might be useful. He didn't need much, he had never demanded more than what was needed for survival and even then he'd always had exactly what he'd needed to get by. The challenge had been packing. The challenge had been knowing not what lay ahead for him.

Being here at home was distracting. His mood lately had been turbulent at best and he couldn't bear to bring Macklyn down any longer. It was nothing that either of them had done to the other, not like before. That wasn't why he was leaving and he hoped Macklyn would understand. Macklyn usually did. Eric needed space, time to think and distance from the distractions here at the house. Music was a distraction, he'd been avoiding the studio like the plague. It didn't feel right invading that serenity with turmoil and darkness, it wasn't fair to John (if the vampire had even been going, Eric hadn't been around enough to check). But he needed fresh air and new perspective. His mate had always been there when he had hit a low point, but now Eric wouldn't burden the man with this pain, these feelings.

Lee was gone. It hurt more now than it had before. When she'd passed, Eric had known why. He'd felt it and knew it had been inevitable and right for her to go. This time it was without explaination. He'd finally had the courage to tell her how he'd felt about her, finally been able to admit it to her and now she had vanished. It was a deep wound that refused to heal completely and it left him raw on the inside. It was that darkness coupled with the intense desire to obliterate Selina Kyle, the woman whom had put her hands on a lot of things Eric held dear to him. He would get over it in time, but being here surrounded by the things she had tried to claim was too much.

Leaving Saucer behind to be with Macklyn and gathering only the sword perched by the front door to take in addition to the bag, Eric left the small cottage with the lush yard with Bran perched upon a shoulder. He left no note, nothing to tell where he might be headed. He didn't know where he was going or where he would end up, but it couldn't be here. Eventually he would return, but it and to be when his mind was clearer and he could once more face his mate with himself in his entirety instead of being so inwardly divided. Macklyn deserved much more and at the point it was now, Eric was doing him a disservice.

The porch met him. The yard met him. The street beyond the gate was welcoming, and so the Dark Avenger faded into the beginning light of sunrise on a journey he knew that might not ever truly end.

John was not sure how to approach Eric after their last encounter. He'd still been on the rush from the blood, and interacting with Venom hadn't softened him for a while after. Feeling slightly less rebellious, however, his thoughts had returned to his morose friend and he'd felt an inclination to find him again.

Approaching the studio, however, he found his steps getting heavier. He wasn't sure if Eric would want to speak to him. He'd known John was a vampire, of course, but knowing and seeing were different things, and John hadn't been paying attention to the non-prey to see what his exact reaction had been.

Still, there was only one way to find out. Setting his jaw he pushed past the glass doors of the studio, tilting his head slightly to get an idea of where his friend was. His steps carried him towards the recording studio out of habit.

Find her. Make sure she's alright.

Bran caught a wave of air and soared across the expanse of buildings. The destination was a familiar one to him, the sill of an apartment window. It knew already what it would find, the energy was somehow different today than it had been the day previous. Something felt...not wrong per say, but not exactly right either. Different. Empty.

The sill greeted the too large corvid and Bran settled with the flap of his wings. Twitching, the crow peered through the window seeing no signs of life. The darkness was a friend, a companion, but this darkness was void of its usual presence. It could feel Peter's energy, and while it could feel Lee's as well it was fading away like a scent on the breeze.

Strange.

Ruffling it's feathers, Bran pushed from the sill and took in to the air again. It soared through the buildings, searching each wall one after the other. It was following that fading energy, which was even more vacant out in the night.

She is no longer present here. Bran said.

I felt it too... the hybrid replied.

Eric had felt nothing like he had before when she had gone, no death and no finality. He was glad for that. But losing her again was as hard as it had been the first time. He would miss her dearly. Very dearly.

Come back, said the hybrid.

Without a response, Bran turned its wings, circled a building and headed back to their little house to rest.

A scream rang out in to the darkness.

Whimpering gave way to muffled pleas.

Laughter followed a split second later and caught the immediate attention of the too large, black corvid. A caw, and the bird settled on the lip of the rooftop to peer down at the scene below.

The alley was coated with fear. It stuck to the brick like glue, washed the pavement like an acid rain. Co-mingled in that the bird could feel the heightened stress coupled with jubilation. A girl was there, and around her lay a scatter of men dressed in dark clothes in various stages of injury. One of the men was crumpled, having been hit hard by something much more powerful than him. A couple of other men were moving to get up from the dark pavement of the alley, their own injuries not as serious as the one laying on the ground.

And there in the shadow was the one whom had thwarted the group from the girl. A familiar shadow. Bran could feel the essence of the power lingering in the air, it was palpable and the corvid almost could taste it.

Another caw and its wings settled. The hybrid was close, always close. The situation needed judgement before it would send the Dark Avenger in to handle what lurked in the dark. John was capable of handling himself.

The girl was shaking. Her heartbeat was drumming, echoing in the alleyway unbeknownst to her. Bran could hear it. Eric could hear it too. She was afraid. What was happening in the alley to the men, she was frightened of the pale man towering before her to protect her. Something about the situation, though, told her she wasn't out of the realm of danger.

"Please..." The girl begged to anyone that might listen. "Please..." She begged again. Beneath her breath she was praying, mumbling a stuttered version of the Lord's Prayer in hopes someone might hear it above her.

Bran cawed in response as if to silence her with the night.

It waited to see what would happen next.

John walked down the street, in a somewhat cheerful mood. He didn't have any particular reason, but running into Melody had been nice, and thing in general seemed to be improving for him. He didn't particularly have a direction in mind when he'd set out, having not explored enough of the City to traverse it with much intention. Besides, if the rumors were true, the City generally wound up getting you where it wanted you to go, intention or no.

So, when he saw the neon glare of Eric's recording studio ahead of him, he smiled slightly to himself. He'd been spending more time with the strange man, and while he still was rarely sure if Eric merely tolerated him, or enjoyed his company, they both seemed to enjoy their guitar sessions.

Wandering up and finding it unlocked and vacant looking as ever, John went in with little hesitation. There was no way to tell if Eric was here or not, but in general the vampire assumed the guitarist would have locked the door if he didn't want company, knowing John to have entered uninvited several times previously.

It had been a long five months.

Eric had given it a try, trying to hold reign on a normal type of a life. But the days were restless and the nights stretched out far too long. Every time he closed his eyes he didn't feel rested in spite of being so exhausted to the point of collapsing, and when he awoke during the evening hours it felt too long. He had adapted his sleeping schedule to be awake during the nights in hopes of catching John at the studios. Eric had been desperately trying to distract himself from the emptiness, but each day that came and went seemed like an eternity. The misery overwhelmed him when he was alone in that damned apartment. And the calendar on his mobile phone was all too eager to keep track of the days and nights so he didn't have to. They had flown by, each one had escaped him, and now he was convinced that this facade of an existence was no longer worth the effort.

Before....before the transformation into what he was presently, Eric had been able to be by himself with no concern. He hadn't needed anyone else, hadn't needed contact and presence of others to be happy. He loathed that the fairy part of him yearned so badly for that contact, the subtle motion of normal interaction. Being in Lee's presence helped, finding her on the wall was always a treat, and then there had been John. All of the time they spent together was nice, having someone to compose with, that understood the depth of music...but no matter how much time Eric spent with his friend it didn't ease him. This life he had built in Macklyn's absence was no life at all. In fact, each time Eric awoke to face the moon it was with dread. It felt like dying over and over again and he couldn't put up with it anymore.

Having made up his mind a few days ago, Eric knew it was best to escape this place while he could. There was nothing left for him here. He had entrusted Selina with Saucer, something that felt like abandoning part of his heart to a woman whom would only crush it beneath her shoe if she got the chance, but Saucer would be safer with her. And it was one less tie to the misery that had plagued him for the last five months.

This was the eve of the eve of his death. It loomed before him like a shadow and it made him hate the apartment more than usual. The couch where he slept during the day was a mess, his constant tossing and turning sending the cushions and blankets to the floor. The bedroom had remained untouched, the apartment itself was as much of a ghost as he felt like. Coats of dust covered much of it. He avoided the place when he could but having no place else to go made this the only true dwelling. He had toyed with the idea of burning it to the ground and each step closer he came to the 30th, the more pleasing the idea became.

Tonight he planned on going to the studio, though. There was a track that needed to be laid down and tampered with, and it was unfinished. He couldn't leave it like that. Hopefully John would show up at some point during the evening to approve it. If the vampire did, Eric would leave him the keys to the place. Eric knew John would keep it up and use it, which was what he had wanted.

But then something changed.

He had been about to put his keys in to the pocket of his leather jacket when he felt something in his mind switch onward and a flood of things returned. At first, it was a bit overwhelming, the connection coming back. Eric closed his eyes and savored it, letting relief wash over him. He wouldn't get his hopes up, not yet, but this was a start.

Another moment and he heard Bran in his head speaking to him.

Mara is here. She is beckoning us to return. It is time.

His eyes opened slowly. Eric wasn't sure if he was ready to face Macklyn yet. They had ended on such terrible terms and he was aware that his mate wouldn't have forgotten it. Eric couldn't even think to utter the word 'vampire' in regards to himself. He no longer thought about that part of himself. Buffy knew the phantom and the fairy, but only because of her occupation, and John wasnt worldly enough to know the difference in species.

It was time to go home.

Squaring his shoulders, Eric did push the keys in to his pocket and he was out the door of the apartment in a flash. It didn't take him long to find his way back to the little house that had once seemed a distant memory. Looking at it was painful.

Bran took his usual spot on the roof and the hybrid approached the front door unsure of what he would find. It took only a moment to open the door to the house, and once he had crossed the threshold he peered around at the dark, stale atmosphere. It felt like a shell of what had been there previously.

He wasn't sure if Macklyn was there waiting for him, they had a lot to catch up on when they did find each other again. It seemed best to just hang around and wait. He'd waited long enough already, what was a few minutes more? Slowly, Eric made his way further in to the house and settled into a shadow thrown by the kitchen to wait.

"....I know he will be safe with you. You'll take good care of him." Eric said softly, knowing Selina would never allow any feline to come to harm if she could help it. The white Persian was better off in her care. It wasn't that Eric didn't want the cat, he adored it deeply, but where he was going the cat couldn't come. It was safer, better off with someone like her that could dote on its every whim and protect it. There were too many memories that shrouded the feline, too many to sort through and to work on.

"Why are you doing this?" Selina inquired. Her eyes narrowed in question, but her tone was different than usual. She considered them rivals, enemies fighting for the same ground, and this seemed too much like an olive branch. A peace offering. She hadn't wanted it to take this twist, she had wanted to be the one to decide when she was done fighting. But the whim for peace had yet to come and there they were together, standing at an inevitable crossroads.

"Because it's time," Eric replied.

Wayne Manor was elegant. It was very large and despite its depth there was a measure of welcome to it. He could tell that it was well work, lived in like it should be. It was far too big for someone like himself, there were too many things that echoed from the tapestry decorated walls for his liking. But if it suited Selina then that was what mattered. Their rivalry bored him, it was trivial and stupid and he was done with it.

"When are you coming back to get him?" A small measure of hope in her voice escaped despite her trying to fight it off. She hoped he wasn't coming back. There weren't many places to go, but there was a part of her that would always loathe him and was glad to see him give up the last bit of Ben to her. It was as if he had given up, like she knew he eventually would.

"Just make sure he's happy," Eric replied. It was then the Avenger turned and walked toward the door left open. The warm sun greeted him like a shadow and he didn't look back at the woman standing there, holding the purring white cat. It was over, that part was over now and Saucer would be safe there in Selina's care. He wouldn't have left the cat there if there was any measure of harm that might come to it.

Waiting for him on the roof was Bran, and with a caw coupled with the flap of his wings, the bird joined the shadow of a man as Eric crossed over the manicured lawn. There was still so much to do. So many more preparations to make before he left. Everything needed to be just right because there wasn't any coming back.

Meeting the street, Eric faded in to the darkness of an overpass and continued to make his way back to the City, all the while working over his mental checklist. The cat was done.

Now it was on to the next. He was running low on time.

Jono had scoured the entire city several times over looking for her. It seemed cruel to give him something and then take it away like that, but apparently, that's what had happened. Maybe he'd been foolish to think he could have anything like her in his life. Something to make him happy like she had.

Their time together had been painfully short, and Jono wasn't sure that he could bring himself to be glad that they'd had any time at all. Laura had been the only one to understand what it was like, to feel like he had. Isolated and alone, they'd found one another and built a friendship, and it had become something more.

After his unsuccessful search, Jono had holed up in the apartment that the damnedable place had provided for him. Refusing to come out. If he didn't have Laura, there was nothing for him out there in that place.

Of course, fate would see to it that he needed to leave. After so many days of being plucked at, one of his guitar strings snapped. Jono waited for the City to throw him another one, or repair the instrument itself, but it did not. Frustrated, lonely, heartbroken, Jono set out and found a music store. He'd brought the guitar not wanting to leave it behind. At the store, Jono threw down for a whole set of new strings, and a backup. He also threw down for a tuner and a mini amp. All the money in his wallet was gone when he left the store, yet he knew it would be full again later.


His errand done, Jono wandered until he found a bridge overlooking water. There was a small patch of grass nearby and a bench. He plopped himself down there and set up the guitar and amp. The music that came from it was melancholy at best, discordant and spontaneous.

( Every single night the same arrangement. I go out and fight the fight. )

John was restless. The City was having a strange effect on him. The sudden return to a more normal atmosphere, with people who were usually indistinguishable from the type he'd grown up with was bit of a cold shock for the vampire. It reminded him of the first time he'd come home from a difficult tour. Everything around him appeared to be functioning normally, the way it always had been, but suddenly he saw. He saw the fragility, the illusion, the sense that most people walked around with that everything around them was normal, permanent, and peaceful. He saw how blind and ridiculous that notion was.

It was slightly different when you were a vampire, though. Before he'd felt what it was to be the line between the normal life and the horrors and chaos that threatened it. Now, by definition, he was one of those disturbances. Even in a City where the remarkable was accepted with a blink and a double take, he knew he wasn't part of the world most lived in, now.

( Finding the Crow )

The place was old and unused. Eric could see that clearly just by observing the thickness of the blanket of dust that coated everything. A mixture of cobwebs lay here and there, untouched by the weeks and years that the place had sat. To be honest and fair, Eric had not even been aware that this place existed. With all of his gifts and every clear picture from the sky, neither of them had noticed it. Too many other things had presented themselves and the shifting of the buildings and constant motion of the streets made keeping track of things a bit more difficult than he liked.

But Eric supposed that true discovery was what came with constant rotation and the unknown. It was particularly excellent in his case considering that his need for a distraction was far too great.

And so the finding of this treasure was of the utmost delight. It would need a good cleaning out, furniture would need to be replaced and it seemed that the machinery was due for a good oiling as well.

Moving further into the facility, Eric approached what seemed to be old equipment. These were things he was familiar with. He knew them from the events of his life before. The sound board, for instance, played a vital role in the structure of sound. Beyond that, through the great glass windows were rooms padded to stifle sound. To maximize the wavelengths while muffling the noise to those outside so the recordings weren't compromised.

A pair of headphones lay haphazardly on the floor of the studio. A broken microphone hung from the center of the ceiling and dangled enticingly.

Eric's dark eyes took in everything. In his mind he could visualize the past, see himself and his band recording their album. All of the time and effort put into perfecting his dreams, all of the laughter and jokes, the cigarette smoke...and it was all coming back to him bit by bit. Little by little he was warming to the place. It had been abandoned and now it was his. God forbid anyone come to try to claim it, any part of it, because he would kill anyone that tried. This was his place now, his solace, his sanctuary. It was the next step in the path that he had strayed so far from.

It was almost like home.

Misery.

It was the best and only word Eric could think of to describe the too long days and seemingly endless nights that stretched on for eternity. It was the word that he knew that most accurately described his every waking moment, and that overwhelmed the small hours of sleep he had been determined to claim each evening. Endless wandering made him restless and though he never truly believed he would have ever ended up back in that apartment...well, he had and he hated every piece of it. Strangers had designed it, ghosts of his past, and now he was dwelling in it. Resting against strange sheets in a bed his body knew once a very long time ago. Slowly the mattress was beginning to recognize him again, but it was old and uncompromising and he loathed it.

Most nights, because of the tossing and turning, Eric spent the weary hours draped across the couch. The white kitten had taken claim to the back of the piece of furniture, snuggled gently into the tops of the cushions. Though Saucer certainly wasn't much of a kitten anymore. He was growing steadily, becoming more active and eager to explore. And bold. Oh was the white Persian feline a bold creature indeed.

There were no amount of books, magazines or television programs worth settling into that could distract him. Nothing seemed to be able to combat the misery and the emptiness Eric felt. Not even going out to explore the City or listening to the local artists struggle to find themselves. Some of that hope had returned, some of that emptiness had eased up when he had spent time on the wall with Lee. But she was only a small part now.

He needed his mate. Every moment spent without him was like dying slowly, a feeling Eric knew. It felt like suffocation, drowning.

Macklyn had sworn that they never would have ended up anywhere near here, that Eric would not have to face these walls again. These ghosts. These memories. Where had everything good gone? It felt like being trapped beneath a landslide, one thing after the other...and both of them were to blame for that. Had he known back on the island before Macklyn had changed him that he would have to face life without his soulmate, he would never have asked Macklyn to save him. Death was much easier than this. He would have welcomed that over this. This was...it was too much to lose.

Misery.

( Like a small boat on the ocean... )

Life and been quiet and pleasant enough in apartment #5. Leeloo had discovered shopping, and had set about renovating the small apartment that she shared with Peter. It didn't look like the same space as what they'd had in die Festung, and that was all right; that was good. Change was part of life, and no one should cling to any one static thing for too long. Stagnation blunted everything.

But there was one thing that troubled Leeloo - one thing that had never sat well with her once they arrived. She had seen her best friend on the first day, but no other time had he come to her. She missed Bran. She missed Eric.

After having spent hours in the library during her exploration of the City, Leeloo found the closest part of the Wall around the City, swam out to it, and spent a good long time trying to climb it. But with her wetness and the smoothness of the wall, it seemed impossible. Finally, exhausted and sore, she fell back into the water and leisurely swam back to the City shore. That was not the way.

Next, she tried a boat and mountain climbing gear. With a rope to the boat tied around her waist, spikes strapped to the soles of her feet, and an ice pick in either hand, she finally scaled the Wall. And then she sat there, through the rest of the day and into the twilight. She would wait.

She would wait until Bran found her and brought Eric to her. He had to come. He always did, when she found their Wall. And this, she had decided, was their Wall.

"....and he deserves so much better than you. I can't even begin to guess what exactly he sees in you! You're a monster!" Selina shouted. She stood confidently before the hybrid, hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed. She used to fear him, back when things had been much simpler and they were all forced to exist together. Oh but now...now the rules had changed and Selina was done playing all of the games that entailed being nice to the Dark Avenger. She didn't care who or what he was anymore because in her eyes he was nothing. And she didn't mind telling him that, either.

Though she knew that he didn't need her approval, but she hoped the words stung anyway. Because to her they were true.

Eric had come to the warehouse looking for Effie. He was unaware that the girl had passed; there had been nothing to name her directly as the victims in the dinosaur attack on Main Street, and the red-head assumed too much about himself. Eric had not divulged a breath of information to the girl and yet she seemed to have ideas of her own that needed to be stopped. Protecting Macklyn was priority number one, and Eric couldnt let Effie spread the word, even if it was a rumor. His journey to the warehouse was with the intent to kill the girl and silence her forever. She was not the friend he had once known and thus that made her expendable when it came to the hierarchy of importance.

But instead of the red-head, Eric happened upon the brunette instead. She had asked him what he was doing there, and after a brief explanation that alluded to being curious as to Effie's whereabouts, Selina asked about Ben. Eric explained that they weren't living together anymore, that they had been through what most in a relationship came across.

And it was then Selina decided she couldn't hold back anymore.

Apparently she had been packing things into boxes, Effie's things left in the warehouse that would go back to Arkham to be with her father. But that could wait. A more interesting thing had happened into the scene and Selina was going to take full advantage of it.

"I'm glad Ben came to his senses and kicked you out. Maybe you should try not to be so hateful and intimidating. You know that nobody likes you, right? Nobody on that island gave two pieces of crap about you and this proves it!"

Eric really wanted to kill the woman just to get her to shut her mouth. He was tired of her and had been for a long time, but he wouldn't to anything to hurt any more of Macklyn's friends. So he just stood there and waited until she was finished before he left without a word for his own defense. Maybe she was right, maybe Macklyn did deserve better. Maybe Macklyn should have just let him die there in the jungle, but Macklyn hadn't. And they were soulmates. That had to count for something, right?

His next stop was the hospital. Eric didn't know how to hunt, he hadn't needed to considering Macklyn had always been there to help with the bloodlust. And now, without his mate, Eric was stuck fending for himself. He wouldn't let himself starve and wither away as much as he wanted to, it wouldn't benefit anyone and least of all Macklyn. He didnt want to cause Macklyn any more pain. So he intended to go to the local hospital next and help himself to their store of blood packets. He could only hope they could stave off the hunger until he and Macklyn worked things out.

Eternity was quite a long time to be mad at each other, but Eric was taking it one day at a time for now.

This place felt stale as if the air within it had stilled and been forgotten in time. That wasn't the case, it thrived in a city that bustled all around it and yet it lay here like a memory misremembered or tucked deeply away into a dark part of the mind. Perhaps it had something to do with all of the events that were locked behind the doors and windows. Or maybe it was because those that had once existed within it had ceased entirely to be. Different versions of them wandered in the vast wasteland of existence some place but the apartment remained just as it had been left. The walls had fresh coats of paint, no longer was there glass on the floor or broken pieces of furniture left to occupy empty space. No, it had all of the feelings of a residence save for actual presence of use.

Eric had been unable to bring himself back to these walls until now and that was only because there wasn't really a place for them to go at present. These walls felt like a cell to him, some kind of shadowed prison and yet it was there to welcome him back as if he had never been running from it in the first place. Like an old friend you haven't seen in a while, the greeting was warm and friendly but distant.

Bran settled in the rafters. Saucer crawled about the stained wooden floors taking in all of the stale scents of barely there life. The bed was still made. A coat of dust had began to thicken on what furniture there was. Candles stood unlit and half-burned. There were curtains, appliances, things in the refrigerator that would need to be discarded.

It didn't feel like home. It felt like someone else's prison, a past life that he was trapped in on some never ending cycle. He had done it to himself, of course. Ended up back here in this place. He wasn't destined to be happy, never truly at peace. If it wasn't one thing sending him spiraling out of control it was something else. How had he allowed himself to be so blind? So stupid? He should have obeyed and protected what was his, a thing so vital to him. Now it was gone and though he knew it wasn't severed entirely that didn't ease the pain. Oh the pain. Eric didn't know just how much more he could take. His seams felt like bursting, he was running out of places to store the negative energy and soon, he was afraid, that it might consume him and drive him into a state of constant madness. The happiness helped. The stability and reliability helped ease that burden but he could never truly escape it.

And this...this was a constant reminder, salt in the still healing wound. Sure he had grown, changed, adapted. But those scars always would be there for people to see. Always would those wounds be there, threatening to burst open once more. The rain never could cleanse the skin completely no matter how welcoming and cool the moisture felt.

So the hybrid sank wearly into a chair by the large window and he looked out at the city without a word, wondering if the time would ever come that he could be free and know that word with his entire being. Free.

Macklyn was with Mara in the kitchen, using an eye dropper to feed her a little bit of blood, when Bran appeared. It was very rare that the spirit was without Eric, so Macklyn had expected him to be along soon. When he wasn't, the hybrid finally set down the makeshift feeder and turned to eye the big black bird who was unusually silent.

After a moment, frustrated, he'd spat out a slightly irritated what, and Bran had filled him in on everything that had happened with Ariel.

From that point, Macklyn had abandoned his task with Mara entirely, and gone to sit in the living room, waiting for his mate to appear. It wasn't that he didn't believe the bird's tale, it was that he wanted to hear it for himself.

They were not supposed to be revealing that information to anybody. Now somebody outside of them knew. It had made him uncomfortable with D, but at least D had been like them. This was entirely different, and it marked the second occasion when Eric had been flippant about their secret. Macklyn was incensed. He'd been very specific at the beginning that their survival depended on the secret. And he'd reiterated the point after D, he was sure.

For Eric to spout off about it as if it were nothing...

Enough time had passed since Ariel's abduction and recovery that Eric felt it was alright to reach out to the girl directly and check on her health. Bran had been keeping an eye on her well-being. She seemed to be functioning alright, as holed up in an apartment as she was. The windows were always constantly shifting so the bird was able to peer in at her from every angle thereabout. Bran noticed, too, the man with the metal arm. Bucky. James Barnes. Eric recognized him from the slab of marble erected in his honor at the Library. Steve had asked for Eric's help to assist in soothing the man and yet the Avenger had never reached out. Eric was alright with that, it meant really that his services weren't needed. Eric wasn't sure if he could endure taking on any more pain and storing it. Especially not pain aged and hungry like that. But Rogers was a friend and Eric would be there if the call ever did come.

Finally the girl did leave the apartment. She ventured out on her own and Eric was glad to see that she was happy. The way she skipped, the merriment in the enticing tones of her soft humming. Her hair seemed brighter, her eyes carried a glow that meant she was radiating from the inside. He was very glad she had recovered. Eric was aware of her friendship with Macklyn, and while he doubted the two had talked recently the hybrid could tell that Macklyn held the slender mermaid high in regard. And she would know who he was simply by the connection and their co-existence in the TARDIS.

Reaching out to her wasn't out of the normal ways of the world.

Eric did stop her and she welcomed his company. So kind she was, so eager to please and willing to listen. Together they walked through the park and she updated him on all of the things in her life. A bench found them, as Ariel had always been one to sit and listen, and they talked. Mostly Eric listened as she discussed herself, Steve and Bucky. Only, she called him James. Always James. Eric was glad for her. He could tell by the tone in her voice and the way her heart fluttered as she spoke James' name that she loved him dearly. If anyone deserved all of the love in the world it was the red-head. Ariel had seen her share of hatred and struggle. Humanity had not been as kind to her as it had some others. But she deserved it more than anyone.

"And what of you, Eric? How have you been?" Ariel asked, eyes alight with wonder.

The hybrid appreciated the question, the concern from her. They had not been friends before but he felt like they would be after this point. It was hard not to like the girl immensely. "I've been doing well, thank you. Ben and I have been staying pretty busy," Eric explained. Ariel nodded. "Can you read my mind? Like Ben can?" Ariel asked. Eric shook his head, "That's not a trick I picked up when he shared with me. I think that's really a fairy thing."

Ariel tilted her head at Eric, and she frowned some. "Shared? I don't understand what that means." Of course she didn't. He hoped she never had to know what that meant. But for all of the bad things that could come with it, even better things were to be had.

"Oh. I guess Ben didn't tell you." Eric could share with Ariel, but not like Ben. He didn't think it was the same thing. "I had an accident on the island, you see...I almost died. Ben saved me. He shared some of his blood with me and that's the reason I'm here today." It seemed a simple thing to explain.

Her tiny hand found his forearm and she looked sad, concerned. "Shared blood?" Her eyebrows lifted. She reflected back on something Ben had told her long ago about creatures that drank blood. Killed fairies for it. Vampires.

Ariel stiffened.

Eric tilted his head at her.

"How did he share his blood with you? Do you drink blood?" Ariel asked, her voice small.

"A wound, I think. I don't recall," he explained, before shrugging his shoulders at her, "I didn't used to, but I guess that comes with the species." A casual slip up. He couldn't lie to her. He figured she knew what Ben was even though he hadn't told her his true name. Eric wouldn't either.

Ariel's eyes widened. "Are you a vampire?" Was Ben a vampire too? He had kept the truth from her.

"Oh. Uh, I am now. But only part." So she didn't know. Damn.

The mermaid was up and fleeing before any other words could be said. Eric didn't chase after her. He could feel her fear but he could feel her sadness most of all. A friend had not told her the truth and she had trusted his word. It broke her heart.

Bran cawed and Eric shot him a look. You are often too giving, Bran whispered.

Be quiet, Eric replied. He had to fix this. But he didn't know even where to start.

Effie had been watching the man for almost a week now, certain her suspicions were right. He had to be the one she and Killian were trying to find. Pushing up her sunglasses, she stood from her chair, moving closer to the man at the counter of the sweet stop, waiting until the annoyingly bubbly princess had her back turned before leaning in to look at one of the trays, purposely brushing against him, leaning over his arm. "Mmm, it all looks so good, doesn't it?" she questioned aloud. "Especially the chocolate...though I wish she'd sell it in sauce form, it would be so much more...fun, that way."

Effie rolled her eyes up to look at Eric over her sunglasses, gauging his response as she almost absently licked her lips, though whether it was due to the idea of the sweets laid out before her, or the 'fun' one could have with chocolate sauce was anyone's guess.

Three days.

Three days and two nights Eric had been away trying to deal with the aftermath of the impact. The first night had been the most difficult, the hardest night he had faced in quite a long time. Peter had been there, had helped him struggle through it and after that the day had come easier than before.

The second night Eric sat in the same spot on the Earth and weighed his options. He kept nothing from his mate. He didn't need to. Every thought that entered his mind, any doubts, he left open to Macklyn. He wouldn't hide the pain from his mate, it wasn't fair to himself to conceal it. The path before him was clear, and his heart knew he must walk it despite everything.

It may have been paved in blood and darkness, that path, but hadn't it always been? It wasn't new.

The dawn of the third day brought a small measure of hope. It was enough to spark movement from the Dark Avenger and so he rose to claim it. With a brief stop at the phantom's vacant apartment to clean up and to get fresh clothes (since his had been thoroughly ruined), Eric headed toward home. The only other detour he managed was to the pet store to grab a few things for that still nameless cat. The events that had taken their attention from it commanded every part of them, and now that it was no longer a barrier, the cat was now what needed tending to.

Finally Eric approached their little house.

The crow swooped ahead of him, perching on the roof. Eric needed no grand entrance, Bran would make enough of one for the both of them. He was too exhausted to care. The door to the cottage swung open and he set the bags full of kitty stuff on the couch once he was far enough into the living room to find an empty space.

He brushed a hand over the tight black leather pants he wore, and across the front of a black long sleeved shirt, before finally offering his attention to the house.