Emails..((Attn Scott))

He set about the cooking task while listening intently to her talk about work. He *loved* listening to her talk about work - or anything she was so passionate about. Her voice sped up a little... her beautiful ice-blue eyes lit up... she went from 'beautiful' to 'stunning' in no time flat.

"I am sorry to hear about the museum owner passing away. The loss of a fellow student of history is very sad... but I'm sure she'd be happy knowing that she has become apart of history, herself, as she passes into it," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment.

"And it's great that you love your job, Miya. So many people don't like their jobs," he chuckles, "Many even hate theirs. It's simply a paycheck to some of them. To truly love what you do... that's happiness."

Hand-towel draped over one forearm, he broke the eggs and poured their contents into a small bowl, one by one. The smell of frying bacon filled the air as he began to whisk the eggs with a fork.

"From a Greek to a Frenchwoman. At least the museum is keeping a little culture," he said with a playful smirk as he poured the first part of the egg mix into the skillet. Then he drained the bacon and grated the cheese.

He listened as her eyes twinkled when she spoke about the exhibit that she really liked, the one that she visited over and over again. He smiled as he chopped up the ham and crumbled the bacon. Was that what he was doing? Was Miya his 'exhibit' that he was returning to? Was he 'stuck'... on her?

She had asked him about DC, to which he nodded and began shoveling her finished omelette onto her plate.

"DC has been... DC. Nothing's really changed to be honest. Students are still students, my tennis game hasn't improved... I still miss you," he said, before he even realized it. He quickly recovered, "Oh, and Fred misses you too, of course," he said, referring to his massively-fat goldfish, his only pet.

He turned quickly and moved back to the stove, his back to her, hiding his blush. He worked his omelette out of the pan and onto his plate. Then he wiped his hands with the hand-towel and set it down, turning and moving back to the empty bar-stool, sitting down beside her with a smile.

He handed her a paper napkin, and grabbed one for himself from the roll of paper-towels sitting nearby.

"Have you been... seeing anyone?" he asked, trying to sound as uninterested in the subject as he could.

A half eaten bite of omelet on its way to her mouth fell back to the plate at that question. She shook her head a little bit, suddenly very sad. She had looked for someone but no one held her interest at all. And she knew that tone from Scott. That was the tone of voice that he used when he cared a great deal about the answer. She looked over at him, with the little bit of tears that began to form. Very quickly she remembered her loneliness and the sense of apartness that she felt from the people around her.

She coughed a little bit as she shook her head, "No." She spoke quietly, the loneliness evident in her voice, "I have gone to several clubs, sometimes with my friend Delilah. She's a dancer because she likes to do it, not for the money. She's gorgeous and sometimes I feel like a sparrow next to her. Drab and dull. But no, no one has held my interest. I haven't.." She blushed brightly, "Haven't had sex with anyone since you." That came out as one long run on sentence with no pause for the individual words. "I would see things and have a flash of intense memory. Like I went to the arcade after work a few days ago and all I could see was you. I felt you against my back, when you came up behind me as I was playing pinball in the deserted student union building that night and told me to..." She tried to remember what had happened but there were so many gaps in her memory. "I remembered the warmth of you at my back and the feeling of the machine cutting into me. And it felt so, so right." Her breakfast growing cold as she reminisced.

"And..you?" She asked, looking up at him, open and vulnerable. "Any of your students lock you in your office this semester?"

He stared at her as she answered, as he chewed a bit of his food. His eyes focused on hers, looking for any signs of deceit. There weren't any.

Upon her explanation about the lack of intimacy since her time with him - he blushed. And - he felt relieved. The thought of her with someone else caused a pang of jealousy to rear its ugly head within his mind, a pang that he wasn't used to, nor prepared for.

He took another bite while she explained the flashes of memory, and again he cursed himself for even trying to hide his existence to her. Why had he bothered? They were far too close, far too intimate for it to have worked anyway. Were she a stranger he had met once or twice, she wouldn't have any memory of him. But they had been far more than that: friends, companions... lovers.

He swallowed as she partially described their meeting that night at the student union building. They both had gotten a thrill from teasing each other in public, but that night - she had pushed him over the edge. FAR over the edge. He could so vividly remember how her body felt as it received his, the quivering of their skin as they touched, the pounding of her heart, the sensation of an exquisite oil.... That night had been the closest he had ever come to feeding upon her.

~I should have~, the voice in his head scolded. ~I should have fed on her - then she never would have left...~

He smiled and chuckled. "Any of my students lock me in my office? No. Not even close. Yes, there is a blond who is always the first to arrive and the last to leave during my second Monday, Wednesday, Friday course, but... she's... she's not Miya," he said, turning to look at her for a second while he cut another piece of his omelette.

"And, there's a new Biology professor, Brittany, who is a bit older than me, but she's made mention several times of going out sometime. But... I just don't think I am really into 'older women'," he said, the irony of that phrase not lost on him in the least.

There was a flash of something in her eyes at the mention of the new biology teacher. A sharp pang of jealousy followed by relief as she began to finish her now cold breakfast. "Is it bad that I am happy you haven't moved on? That I might have a chance with you again?" She caught his hand and raised his hand to her lips, kissing it sweetly, letting her tongue tease his skin a little bit. "You told me that I could ask you anything tonight, that you would answer me. I know you were hiding something from me, some secret about your past. I never figured out what it was, and trust me my love, I did try. I kinda figured it out thought - the bit about you being a hypnotist from the way my memories were messed up, so I read up about it on the internet. There's a lot of neat things you can do with it in sex. I.. I want you to do those things to me. Please." Bent over his hand looking up at him. "I begged you a night like this almost four years ago to keep me as your own, and to claim me. Won't you do so now?" She smiled at him, having no idea what the truth was, but pleased that she had 'figured' it out.

He shook his head as his eyes locked onto hers.

"No, I don't think it's bad at all... to be glad that I hadn't... moved on. Just as I don't think there's anything wrong with me feeling the same way about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, taking a quick drink of milk to wash down his last bite of omelette.

She suddenly raised his other hand and kissed it gently. Her lips on his skin... she might as well have struck a match and sat it there, instead. The intense and familiar, not forgotten heat of her touch made his skin tingle all over again, the hint of her tongue wicked as much as it was loving.

He nodded, confirming to her that he would indeed share whatever she wanted from him, whatever she wanted to know. He neither confirmed or denied her comments about 'hypnotism', as she had been making statements - not asking questions.

But his mind raced as she suggested that he 'claim' her. If she only knew how he would do it, if she only knew the method he would have to employ, he was sure she wouldn't be looking at him with gentle eyes and speaking to him in a soft voice.

She'd flee from him in terror.

She tugged his hand, leaving the dishes in the kitchen unrinsed, sitting on the counter. She pulled him back towards her bedroom. Once they were inside, she slipped off the robe to be standing naked before him. She daringly looked into his eyes and spoke ever so softly, her hand snaking behind her and locking the door. The lock sounded so loud against the walls and she leaned against the door.

"Scott, my Sir..." She began, looking into his eyes, "Was your only secret that you are a hypnotist? Was that the big secret from your past? I thought maybe it was a child, but I nudged around and couldn't find anything like an exwife or a child. I figured if you did have one, you'd have pictures somewhere. I asked a friend to run your credit and it was perfect, almost too perfect. Like..you'd been in a witness program my friend said. She warned me against you, that everyone has a secret."

She dropped to her knees, confessing her sins to him. The things she had done in college, trying to protect herself as best she could. "Please, Sir. I wasn't joking when I said I wanted to marry you if the thought wasn't completely ridiculous." As always, her heart and emotions were open to him. There was guilt and regret as she confessed, a bit of relief when she knelt, and the keening vulnerability as she admitted her desire to spend her life with him. She fully expected him to reject her as she knelt there, her head bowed slightly.

How could he reply to her, without lying? He took a deep breath in the darkness, wondering if he was about to lose her, as quickly as he had found her again.

"I have many secrets from my past, Miya. Most people do - even if they claim they don't. I... was married. A long time ago," he said as he watched her lean against the door. "She was... murdered. The killer was never caught. I don't have... pictures on my walls, as you say, because... it hurts, too much. I keep memories of her, here," he said, raising a fist over his heart. "And that is enough for me."

He paused, taking another breath.

"Your friend is wise. Everyone has secrets. Everyone."

His eyes followed her as she knelt in front of him - as she had done so many times before. Her words - did she really *know* what she was saying? So young, still somewhat naive... was she repeating words from a book, or was she sharing her true inner-most desires with him?

"It is not a ridiculous thought in the slightest. I have often... dreamed of the same thing, Miya. I confess it."

He lowered his hands to the sides of her head, letting his fingers slowly glide into her soft hair. He fancied that he could see her eyes - glowing softly, so bright, even as darkness enveloped them. His senses told him she was being honest, that she felt everything she said - he was just concerned that she didn't quite fully comprehend what she was offering...

She leaned forward and laid her head against his thigh. "Is that the only secret you have been keeping, my love?" She asked him softly, "Is that the only reason you have always been slightly distant?" Her voice was soft in the eternal darkness of her room. "I want you. Nothing could make me leave you again. You promised you wouldn't let me." She peeks up at him, almost unable to see him in the darkness. "No more secrets. I will tell you about my childhood, it's the only secrets I've ever kept from you." He knew from commentary in the past that being raised in the DC Fostercare system was not a pleasant experience, but she had never told him all the details of it, running from her past. That was part of the reason she had left DC. It had such unpleasant memories for her.

He nodded slowly, realizing what she was about to tell him might be quite painful for her. But, it would also buy him some time before he had to share something personal with her.

"Please tell me, dear Miya. Please tell me of your childhood - all of it," he asked, hoping she would tell him about her entire youth - the longer it took - the better.

"I promise not to judge, and when you are done, I will simply feel stronger for you," he promised, surprised at how genuine he felt about those words.

She rose to her feet without asking permission, something she rarely did, scooped up her blue teddy bear and curled back up on her bed. Without prompting Scott took her into his arms and she hugged the bear tightly to her.

"So you know that I was abandoned as a baby at a fire station. The laws said that Mothers who couldn't handle their babies could do so. I was only a few days old at most, and many babies who are left that young find permanent homes with families. I did not. No one wanted me. I tested positive for a drug addiction and I was taken to a hospital until I was healthy enough to be adopted. Part of it was because of the addiction, part of it was because I was mixed. Parents who have a skin color of white often don't want babies who are not as lily white as they are. So, I went to an orphanage at first, then to a series of foster families, none of which wanted me. I was different than they were. I wanted to succeed in spite of how I was born. I was a dreamer. I had a hard time focusing and they tried me on medication to help with that, but I hated it and as soon as I was old enough to say no I did. I had to attend counselling, and my social worker and counsellor tended to believe the families I was with over me. One of the families hit me, and it wasn't until a teacher reported the bruises I was taken away. Thankfully no one engaged in sex with me, by the time I knew what the touching meant that was happening I was able to escape it." She didn't realize that she was crying now.

"And then, I burned down the kitchen of one of my foster families. They said I had spaced out, and they didn't want me anymore. I had spaced out because one of the boys had me cornered trying to get his hand up my skirt. He was older than me, bigger and he used to say that my mother was a drug addict and a whore and as the daughter of a whore I should learn her trade. I was never so happy as to leave that place. And then again, no one wanted me after the fire and I stayed at the shelter until I was 18, then I had to go to the adult shelter until I finished high school. That was why I lived on campus, and was so adamant about staying with you during breaks. I didn't want to go back to the shelter, which is the only place I had to go."

"And then I was stupid. I wanted to get out of DC so badly, everywhere I looked I only saw how unhappy I was. I didn't talk to you about it, I didn't want to talk to anyone about it. I just wanted to run away. And by running away, I made the worst decision I could have made." She hastily wiped the tears away with one hand. "Which is why I've always been so against drug and alcohol. I know, I was told, that because I was addicted as a baby that I could very easily become addicted now. And that is true to some extent, I am obsessive and I do become rather focused on things." She wanted to howl and sob, but couldn't find the energy for it. "You were my salvation and my life. And I need that back." She looked up at him and waited for him to say anything, condemn her.

Scott held her close to him as she told her story, from start to finish. When she cried, he held her even tighter, letting her know that he was there, that he was on *her* side, no matter what.

He nodded throughout the story, and at the parts that were harder for her, his warm lips brushed her temple and forehead, reassuring her that she was valued - and no longer alone.

The last part of her story struck home for him, of course. Miya had fled DC in order to flee memories she was tired of living through, day in and day out. He nodded slowly in the dark, completely understanding her reasoning for doing this.

As she finished, and remained quiet for some time, he raised a hand and gently stroked her cheek, lightly dabbing away her tears, then did the same on the other side. His touch was as light as a feather, and he admitted to himself that seeing her cry... hurt.

He gently pulled her closer again, kissing her forehead lightly.

"You are not at fault for what you've been through, Miya. You're smart enough to see that, but you blame yourself for much of it - and you aren't being fair to yourself," he whispered, kissing her forehead again.

"You're a wonderful person, but very much a victim, as much as anything. You wanted a change of scenery - and hey, so would I, in your situation. You did what anyone could, and have endured... so much. You definitely deserve a break."

She listened to him, leaning against him. The tears that he had brushed away were as surprising to her as they were to him. She didn't cry often. She viewed crying as a weakness. "I think I want to go back though. You are there. You are enough. I didn't see that before." Oh she was hard on herself. She looked up at him and managed a weak grin, "So it's your turn to share. What is the big secret?"

She waited. He was avoiding this topic, and she didn't really like that. But, did it matter, really? It wouldn't change how she felt about him, not really. She took a deep breath, refused to sniffle and looked up at him, "You know what, it's ok. Whatever it is, you don't have to tell me." She took a deep breath and realized that she could be accused of emotional manipulation which totally wasn't her intention. Having no real idea that he could sense her emotions she tok a deep breath and looked up at him, "No that wasn't a guilt trip. That was how I really felt about it. You don't have to tell me."

He nodded to her when she spoke of returning to DC. He'd like nothing more for her, but, that was being selfish. She obviously didn't feel comfortable there. She had started a new life, here, and the new location would help her handle her past. It was good for her - and he wanted what was good for her.

"My turn? Well... where do I start," he chuckled lightly. How does one reveal such a thing to someone they care so deeply about? He wasn't trying to tell her that he had bounced a check, wrecked the car, forgot their anniversary or had an affair. No, he was confessing that he wasn't really even *human*.

He looked into her eyes and quickly realized that he wanted - no, needed - her to trust him. Completely. And, he needed to be able to do the same in return.

He sighed. He knew this was going to sound crazy to her, but, he had to at least try to be open, to show her the same respect she had shown him.

"You know all those... books you read, the fiction ones, about Vampires and Werewolves and Ghosts and stuff....?"

An odd look was given to him and she nodded, "I always liked that you knew how to bite me." She mused with a little grin, "Lent the fantasy more credence. You could make me orgasm just by biting me..." She snuggled trustingly into him. "And I did tease you once about being a vampire because of your sun allergy. Nachton might be a good place for you because of that. Everything seems to be open all night here. It's like Vegas or New York, the city never seems to sleep. Why, the chinese delivery place even delivers up till 4 am here. Egg rolls at midnight." She giggled just a teeny bit, seeming very silly yet completely open to him. She trusted him, no matter what secret he was going to tell.

He blinked and took a deep breath, holding her tightly. So very tightly. He knew that after this, after what he would tell her, everything would change - for better or worse. This might be the last time she ever lets him embrace her.

"Well... there's a reason I... know 'how' to bite you," he said, slowly moving the fingers of one hand down beneath her chin, and gently lifting her head so that she looked into his eyes. "Though, I haven't *really* bitten you. Ever. Not the way I should, if I truly wanted - or needed to."

He waited a quiet moment, hoping that the subtle hint would sink in, that she would grasp it. He knew she was very intelligent, but her whole life had been in a world with the belief that such supernatural creatures were only the subject of myth and legend. Surely she would think that he was joking...

Or insane.

She gazed at him completely trustingly, completely open and completely confused. She loved to look into his eyes, to just gaze into them. A happy fluttering sigh as her body reacted to the thought of him biting her. "I'm not sure that I understand, but you are welcome to bite me anytime. I love it. Maybe," and there was a devilish little twinkle in her eye, "You could show me how you can really bite me? Please?" She obviously didn't understand, being stuck on the idea of biting. He could feel how her body responded to that thought and to him.

He felt her body respond, felt her shiver, felt her push closer - insistent on his touch, but without the need to voice her desires.

His body responded in kind, and the immediate temptation was to renew his 'acquaintance' with the softer parts of her body then and there. But, she had opened up the box, she had opened the door, and it would be rude of him to ignore the trust she had placed in him.

He took a deep breath, and slowly stretched, reaching up to her bedside. He fumbled for a moment, and finally found the light-switch of a tiny bed-side lamp. He hit the switch, and a bit of light spread across the room, as if trying in vain to fight back the shadows.

Scott looked down into her eyes, focusing on them. Her eyes would never look at him the same way again, he knew. Not after tonight.

She raised her hand to block the sudden light for a moment, but lowered it when her eyes adjusted. Quietly, she looked at him quizzically.

He took a breath, and opened his mouth - and slowly, his canines began to lengthen. His eyes never left hers, watching for her reaction - no matter how bad it might be.

"Still want me to bite you?"

She watches in wonder then smacks his arm, "You're a vampire and you didn't tell me?" She picks up her pillow and swats him upside the shoulder with it, laughing. "You inconsiderate git!" She swatted him with the pillow again, her emotions of wonder and acceptance. "You knew how interested I was and you didn't tell me!" She aimed the pillow at his head this time, laughing happily. "Here I was offering myself to you... how do you eat? Why do you eat real food?" The pillow stalled before the next swat and she looked down at him in absolute wonder. "How did you drink blood without me knowing?" Her mind drifted back towards the snatches of memory that she could remember, working through it, "And that's how the memories got messed up. Huh." She sat back on her feet for a moment thinking then hit him with the pillow again, "You'd better let me feel what it's like now that I know. Or I'll never EVER forgive you." Her tone was playful as were her emotions. She was prepared to accept everything about him, for she loved him, and the love that he felt from her only deepened.

He blinked as he looked at her. Her response was not at all like what he had expected.

"Yes, I knew you were interested in STORIES, and FICTION about them, but... Miya, this is *real*," he said. But she was not to be deterred.

He sat there and took the pillow-beating without moving, his hair becoming even more messed-up with each swat. Surely, she didn't fully understand what he was telling her. He began to tell her more, sure that at any moment she would finally 'get it' and run screaming in terror for the nearest wooden stake.

"I eat real food still because I like the taste. No, I don't have to, but... nothing stops me from doing so, if I choose to."

"I truly feed... a few times a month. I always did it when you weren't around. It can be a... traumatic experience for those watching who aren't used to seeing it."

Scott took a breath. "I rarely feed on... humans. There are some like me who avoid feeding on humans, when possible."

"And yes... I do have some... abilities that I acquired after I was turned. I can indeed fog your mind - which you now understand."

She looked at him in amusement and acceptance, "Well. You aren't getting rid of me that easily. And you so deserve to be beaten more with my pillow for hiding that from me. " She gave him a mock glare. "I get that it's real Scott. You aren't a story and neither am I. No wonder I am so attracted to you." She blushed just a teeny bit. "When I read, I always fantasized myself in the stories with you. I know you knew that, you used to tease me about it." She picked up her pillow again and swatted at him halfheartedly. "GRRR!" She growled at him, beat him a few more times with the very fluffy pillow then sat back again. "Do... you want to feed on me?" She asked him in a very small voice, the part of her that doubts imagining that this is his way of saying that he doesn't want her. "Because it's ok if you don't want to. I just am curious what it feels like. If it's anything like the stories." She scooted closer to him and hugged him tightly. "If you don't want me, can you make me forget again? But do a better job at it? I don't think that I want to live without you again. I don't think I have it in me, Scott."