Luca looked out of the window, feeling pensive as he watched the rain fall heavily on the glass. His family's house was massive, and he could easily live his life within the walls without seeing another person for months. The servants were rarely around, stealthily cleaning the house while their master's worked. His gaze slid from the rain to the grounds below that the water hit. The gardens were beautiful, with Italian inspirations as his family originally hailed from the country. Usually Luca would be outside, losing himself in the foliage and flowers. But he didn't like getting wet, so he had to remain coped up inside.

A knock at his bedroom door brought his attention inside. His room was decorated with warm colours, reds and golds that made his family's wealth obvious. A knock came again from the dark wooden double doors, making him approach cautiously. Who would be knocking at his door at this time of the day? And so close to the family meeting as well. He opened the door, his dark eyes scanning the man that stood in the hallway. He was a stranger, perhaps someone that worked for his father. He raised an eyebrow.

"Hello, how can I help you? I am rather busy if..." Luca's words were cut short as a small blade was plunged into his stomach. He doubled up in shock and pain as his assailant ran from the scene. He moaned as he looked down at the red liquid that poured from his wound, pulling the blade out with a grunt. He wasn't sure how deep the blade had gone, or if it was a deadly injury. He tried to stand up, but the pain made his head spin and he had to grip the door jam in order to stay upright. His mind was racing. What should he do?

A bell rung throughout the mansion. The family meeting was on. If Luca didn't appear before his father, he would be declared a dead son and cast from the family. He had nowhere to go and didn't like the idea of living on the city streets. He turned and went to his en suite, picking up a towel and wrapping it around his wound as a make-shift bandage. He then changed his top and jacket, nearly fainting at the activity. He was sure the wound would heal on its own. He had his family's blood after all, and the Moretti family were vampires.

Hobbling to the ballroom, he stood near a brother, gazing upon his father as the man stood in front of the family to give a speech. He felt faint and could hardly hear what was being said.

"An uncle from Italy... Here to visit..." His father's speech swam in and out as he struggled to stand. Blood was still soaking the towel he had wrapped around him and his stomach felt as if it was digesting his insides. Everyone clapped as the stranger that had stabbed him took a spot near his father's side. His blood red eyes met Luca's and he smirked. Luca opened his mouth, but no words came out. He couldn't take the pain any longer and collapsed on the ballroom floor, his family surrounding him as his blood poured from his wound.

He could hear them talking, but couldn't understand what was being said. Suddenly he was picked up from the floor and taken somewhere cold and wet. Blinking he looked up at the night sky as the rain poured on his face, washing away his blood.

He loved the rain. Why, he didn't know. But Marcel decided it was the prime time for a walk as soon as the first rumble of thunder started rolling through the city. He grabbed his e-reader, his shoes, slid them on, and forgot about a jacket, deciding it was much better that he didn't sacrifice more than the bare minimum of clothing to meet the drier sooner rather than later. Slamming the door to his brownstone, he started off, feet slapping the gradually-dampening sidewalk. It gave way from cobblestone to brick, then eventually to concrete as he left the historical district and found himself among more moving steel and people. He passed by a bakery and found himself stilling for a moment, deciding against ducking inside, and hurrying across the street, to another more residential area away from the bulk of the noise and to a park across the two-lane road separating it from the huge, expansive manors. He loved looking at them but would never even consider living in one. Too much work to keep clean. Too much damn space Three floors of home was already too much for Marc.

He settled under a gazebo and pulled his e-reader out from the plastic bag he had slid it into. He'd been in the middle of a large book, something called East if he recalled correctly, something rather old and not well known. Since the benches were so close to the rain, Marc found himself settling cross-legged in the middle of the deserted gazebo and bent over his reading. The chapters were so short, and each was a narrative from a different character, so it could be hard to follow if one didn't have a habit of reading the title of each chapter, which introduced the next in the narrative. He startled when someone clumped onto the gazebo steps, and started asking about his affiliation with religion. He pulled a face and started babbling random curses in French until they apologized and ran off, nearly bumping several men in long, dark trench coats that piqued Marc's curiosity.

He brushed his brown hair back and squinted, quickly looking away when he even thought they might see him being nosy. Something thumped, and then they were on their way again, and as his hair fell in front of his eyes, Marc studied them carefully. Hard features. Square jaws. Typical 'bad news' type guys that didn't look very safe to be around. Or ask directions from. He shuddered and looked up, at the bushes nearby. They were out of the way. What the hell were they doing around there? Dumping a body?

Marc stood and slid his e-reader back into its bag, tucking it under his arm as he stepped off the shelter and gasped in the cool downpour. Shaking his hair out of his face, Marc stepped tentatively forward, picking and choosing each step as if he were about to step on a rattlesnake. His hand obsessively stroked the red, diamond-shaped necklace at the base of his throat, a source of comfort when he needed it, as he toed branches out of the way and finally gasped.

They were dumping a body! His instinct forced him to kneel and drop the reader, pulling the dark-haired form's eye open to inspect the pupil. "Hey, buddy, you okay?" He looked down and grimaced at the dark, bloody stain on his stomach, the rip in his shirt. He'd been stabbed. Was he a target for murder? Maybe Marc read too much. "Can you tell me what happened?" He had to do something. Stop the bleeding. He hadn't driven here, so where could they go? And those eyes... Red... He shuddered and refused to acknowledge that.

Rain hit his face as he closed his eyes, trying to fight to stay alive. His blood was leaving his body quickly and it scared him. He was going to die. They had dumped him somewhere off the street. There was no way anyone would find him before the last of his life dripped from his body. He was scared, but also sad and angry. Why had his distant uncle stabbed him? Why had his family dumped him and left him for dead? He cursed them in Italian, swearing that if he died he'd become a demon and curse them. Suddenly he heard footsteps and someone was near him.

"Hurts..." he muttered, feeling cold as he grasped at the stranger. "H-Help..." But what could this man do for him? If he was taken to a hospital they would soon find out what he was. His family secret would be revealed and he would never be able to use his last name ever again. "St-stabbed..." His eyes focused on the man's face. A mortal, not one he knew. The man seemed concerned, frightened even. Luca closed his eyes. He hated that he was scaring him.

He felt drained. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Any moment now, he would take his last breath. What would happen to him now? His soul was damned. He wouldn't be accepted into Heaven. He cursed his family's name once more, tears running down his cheeks and mingling with blood, dirt and rain. "Stranger... I don't want to die... Help me..." He opened his eyes again, wondering if they had become as red as the blood that drained from him. His gaze fell upon the necklace the mortal wore. Bloodstone... And the way it had been crafted... He wanted to ask where he had found it, but his vision faded. He was dying.

Marc has started as an EMT, working under suddenly terrifying conditions and pressing issues, near-death and with little to no time to spare. He took barely a moment to ease all the fear out of his body, even that cold, icy recognition that hit like a fist to his stomach. Which probably felt less awful than a knife to the gut, really. He straightened out, unbuckling his belt and unthreading it. "I won't let you die, relax. I don't have much to work with..." He shook his head, looking the man over. Nothing to use. He couldn't let the man---vampire---die here, like this. No, he couldn't. Marc shrugged out of his shirt and folded it as well as he could in the rain, pressing it to the man's stomach and sliding the belt around him, bringing it up and buckling it tightly.

"That'll stem the bleeding for a while, until I have the right things... We need..." Would he even agree to go to the hospital? The reason vampirism was so secret to humans was that no vampires ever appeared at the hospital. "Are you willing to go to the hospital, or should I get you somewhere else? If I can get you to my home I can understand what's been damaged and how to repair it." That meant walking. Walking at least to the street where he could pose as the friend of a guy that had a few too many at the bar. Or had just been in a fight with no life-threatening injuries. His shirt, at least, blended in with the rest of the guy's clothes.

Luca shook his head. He couldn't risk a hospital. But somehow, he knew that this man was a doctor of some sort, and maybe he knew what sort of blood ran in Luca's veins... And spilled upon the muddy ground. "Get me... Somewhere..." He was shaking from cold and shock. It was hard for him to keep awake, darkness pressing in from the corner of his eyes. He kept blinking and taking steady breaths, ignoring the burning pain of the wound. Why wasn't it healing? Had his uncle used a blessed silver weapon? That would have made sense in the situation. But why hadn't he gone for the heart...?

He shook his head. Right now he had to focus on living. He winced as he was lifted, glad that he was a lot shorter and lighter than the mortal that supported him. "Where... Have a car?" He had never been in one, as his family preferred other means of travel. "Or are we... walking?" He hoped he didn't have to walk far, his body was slowly shutting down, his muscles seizing painfully as he tried to move his legs.

Marc shifted under the weight of the vampire, curiously light though he was, so he could take his phone from his pocket. Thankfully it was waterproof, and he decided to leave the cheap e-reader on the ground as he pinged a cab. Luckily there was one nearby, a couple streets over, and he saw it begin its route to where they were. "We're not walking, I found a cab nearby. C'mon, it should be here by the time we get to the road." He couldn't stop remembering the men that had come from this location. Sharp, boxy, tough-looking bunch. They had been the ones to dump this guy here. Why? Were they vampires too?

He did most of the walking, dragging the limp body of the pale man and trying to actually get him onto his feet from time to time. Once they reached the sidewalk the cab was waiting, and Marc hailed it so the driver knew he'd been the one to ping the vehicle. He pulled the back door open, helping the black-haired vampire into the seat and closing the door, going around to the other side to slide in. "Oak and Mallory Avenue." He told the driver, sliding over the otherwise soundproofed partition.

"That guy better not get sick back there or you're gettin' the bill." The driver's gruff voice annoyed Marc, but he bit back the desire to scream at him.

"Yeah, yeah, just go damn it. Make it there fast and you might get a damn good tip."

It seemed that was all the driver needed. Marc slammed the partition and leaned back with the vampire. "How're you doing, all things considered?"

It was tough moving across the muddy grass to the sidewalk, his legs had stopped working by the time he was bundled into a warm vehicle. A 'cab'. He Would have loved the experience if the circumstances were different. He leant against the leather chair he was sitting on, trying to keep breathing. He didn't feel like he was going to be sick, but he was afraid he'd get blood everywhere. He knew from experience how difficult blood was to get out of materials.

The motion of the cab made him feel giddy, so he closed his eyes and held onto the mortal tightly. The feeling of a pulse beating along with his own, slowly beating one comforted him. "It's... comfortable," he managed to speak, his mouth thick with blood. "And I'm... Not so cold now." Even the pain was subsiding, but he knew this was because he was so close to dying. He could almost feel his human soul trying to escape from his body. "It's nice... Too bad I'm dying... Wish we could have met... In other circumstances... My name is Luca, by the way..."

Marc was restless. Sitting here with nothing to take care of that wound, handle the issues at hand, with a man that could easily look back and see that there was something not quite right with the pale guy sitting beside Marc, was so frustrating he could explode. He grasped the vampire's hand tightly to offer some kind of comfort, however little it may be. "Shush. You're gonna be fine. Because there's no way in hell I'm going through all this to lose you. Call it stubbornness, Luca, but you're going to be fine. And then you can thank Dr. Marc for it later." He smiled a little, checking the belt around his waist. Considering the world's odd fashion sense nowadays, it wouldn't look odd at all.

The cab turned quickly and Marc braced his shoulder against Luca so he didn't slide over and risk more blood loss. There was an easy fix, no doubt, he just needed the right things. Right tools, and he had those at home for random emergencies away from the hospital. The cab turned again and Marc gritted his teeth as it came to a stop just a door down from his brownstone. How would he get Luca up those steps? He'd have to carry him, no doubt. Lucky he had left the front door unlocked.

Digging in his pocket, Marc brought out the fare and a reasonable tip and opened up the partition. "Pretty good, could've been easier on the turns." He jumped out before the driver could think of a witty comeback and went around for Luca. If all else failed, he'd carry the vampire.

Luca was drifting off when a sudden turn wrenched him back into the here and now. They had stopped outside a simple flat, which Luca assumed was the mortal's home. When Marc left the cab to open the door on the other side, Luca bit his lip. He had no idea how he was going to get out of it. He saw steps and cursed his legs for giving up on him.

He tried his best to help Marc lift him out of the car, and lent against him as the struggled towards the steps. "Dr. Marc... It was a pleasure meeting you... I'm sorry for scaring you..." They came to the front steps and Luca tried his best to move his legs. But he couldn't. "I'm sorry... It seems... I can't finish this trip..."

Marc had a strong physique from handling the needy and unconscious. Handling heavy equipment and bags and just about anything else he'd need to deal with from one day to the next, often randomly and without schedule. He, luckily, was on vacation now, otherwise in the back of his mind his beeper would be right there, telling him at any moment he might have to leave Luca. So when they reached the steps he shook his head, grabbing him up and taking the steps two at a time. "You're exceptionally pessimistic." He huffed as he used his knee to pull the knob down and push the door inward. A blast of warm, dry air met them and he stepped inside, using his hip to close the door behind them.

"Now you're not going to die. Get that thought out of your head right now. You haven't been stabbed deeply and..." He paused to get to the dining room. Luckily his table was long enough to accommodate the vampire, so he laid Luca on the hard wood and went to the kitchen for a towel. "... and besides, I have everything I'll need to sew you up. Nothing important was hit so we just need to stop the bleeding. I can cauterize the wound to start out but it'll hurt." Folding the drying towel, he slid it under Luca's head. "Now, I'm going upstairs to get my bag. Don't you dare try to move." His authoritative voice came out, when he often had to demand a belligerent patient to stop being an ass and accept help. Then he hurried upstairs and to his bedroom.

Luca laughed at being told how pessimistic he was being in the situation. He closed his eyes and drifted off as Marc went to fetch the things needed to close his wounds. When he came back, Luca smiled weakly to show that he was still alive. "I don't mind the pain..." he muttered. "Do what needs to be done..." Just do it quickly, he added in his mind.

"Dr Marc... I... I need to tell you something... Before you operate on me... I'm..." His words were interrupted by a burning pain in his abdomen. He growled, feeling his fangs lengthen as his red eyes flew open and glared at the mortal that was burning him. "No! Don't use silver!" he screamed, a part of him wanting to rip Marc apart.

He didn't feel like he were finding the bag fast enough. When he finally dug it out from under a pair of discarded scrubs, it felt like a year had passed. He was worried that he'd find a dead vampire in his dining room, but the movement was welcome. Marc found his powrful laser, something whose limited, mirrored beam wasn't thrown off more than an inch from the tip, and undid the belt, pushing the shirt away and the vampire's clothes up to reveal the wound. He had barely started work when the vampire's life seemed to come right back to him, and Marc's first instinct was to press a hand hard to Luca's chest.

"It's not sliver!" He said quickly. "Look!" He held the item up, and it was smoking slightly from its recent use. "I have no silver in my bag. None at all. It's all stainless steel because it's easier to work with and lasts a long time. This'll burn at first but I have to close up the blood vessels. I'm not using any silver on you. Okay?" He didn't move. Luca couldn't do that again or he could have another wound.

Luca calmed, his fangs shrinking again. "I'm sorry... I just... Silver is not good for me," he explained weakly, gritting his teeth as Marc resumed the sealing. It seemed to last forever, but finally the mortal was wrapping bandages around the stitched up wound. Luca guessed he was lucky the blade hadn't pierced his stomach. "I've lost a lot of blood..." he muttered. This was the part he had been dreading, the part where Marc found out that giving him blood through an IV wouldn't work. "What do you think Doc?"

He tried to sat up, but was prevented by his body and by a growl from Marc. The mortal was right, he had to rest. But the table he was lying on was so uncomfortable.

Marc's hand was steady though he had that scare to push to the back of his mind. He'd worked on thrashing killers and crazy men and women before, so it didn't last long, and soon he was tying the injury up with some thick, hospital-grade thread and a curved needle. He wiped away the extra blood and tossed the used cloths into the trash---he could buy more later.

There was no doubt Luca needed blood. He was a vampire, though, and a drip wouldn't do. It wasn't like he kept a bag of every blood type lying in the back of his fridge, though, so he nodded gently. "I know. I know silver isn't good for you and I know what you need. Don't move for a second." He went into his kitchen one more time, retrieving a paring knife and standing over Luca. "You can have it through my wrist." He said, and clenched his hand, poising the knife horizontally over his wrist, and slicing deep, but not too deep. The sting made him gasp, but it became comfortable and familiar almost immediately.

So Marc knew what he was? How? Was that how he had received the bloodstone necklace that hung around his neck, one that had been given to him by someone from Luca's family? He was certain it had to be a relative, he didn't know if there were other vampires out there that didn't have Moretti as their last name. The questions were driven from his mind as the mortal slit his wrist above his mouth. The smell of the blood gave him enough energy to sit up and lap it up like a cat drinking milk. He resisted the urge to bite the flesh with his sharp teeth.

When he was full his lips parted and he lay back down, licking his lips and closing his red eyes. "Thank... you..." He then drifted off into a deep sleep.

Marc resisted the urge to shiver hard at the vampire's tongue sliding over his flesh, slowly, slightly healing the wound as he took what blood was offered. The wound was deep enough that it didn't stop bleeding for a while, and made his arm feel slightly weak as he nodded to Luca, watching his eyes flutter closed, and left to wash the wound and wrap it. Then he looked down at himself. He was warm, so he'd almost completely forgotten about his lack of shirt. The day had turned out to be ridiculously active, after all.

Lifting the prone body, Marc slowly climbed the stairs and went to one of the guest rooms. His parents visited sometimes, and so did his brother, so he always had them ready. But they weren't due for a visit for a few months. Marc set the vampire on the bed and sighed in relief, feeling as if they'd avoided absolute disaster. But now that his heart was at a more common rate, he felt dirty and clammy. Luca could leave any time, so Marc wasn't concerned with that. He didn't owe Marc anything, after all. He left the door slightly ajar when he stepped out, then found his way to the bathroom to clean up better.

Luca was staring up at his father, a smile on his face as he clutched the man's hand. Around him were other adults and they seemed mad. Luca frowned and was about to ask what was wrong when he was pushed to the ground. "A filthy halfblood doesn't deserve to be your heir, father. Get rid of it. Rid of your shame." Knives plunged into his frail body as he screamed for them to stop.

He jolted awake, wincing as the sudden movement had hurt. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, glancing about his surroundings. It took a moment to remember where he was. Marc... He had saved his life, and had given him blood. Luca worried about the mortal. He hoped the bloodstone had protected him from the curse. He wanted to get up, but he was still weak. Instead he glanced about the room. Simple, but comfortable. It was obvious Marc was a man of modest wealth, but didn't like showing it off like his family. He sighted a book on a nearby bed stand and picked it up, scanning its title before opening it and reading it. It helped keep his mind of what had happened, possibly a few days ago. Luca had seen it was day time and felt as though a few days had passed. He'd have to wait for Marc to show up so he could ask.

Two days. A solid two days had passed and Marc only had two more days of his vacation left. They'd told him to go overseas for a week or so, get away from the hectic city. But his part of the city was warm and relaxing and calming, he didn't want to go anywhere. Maybe that was a good thing. He sat with Luca for about fifteen minutes three times for both days, taking his vitals---however many 'vitals' a vampire had---and making sure he was okay. He had been told once before that vampires often shut down to heal after an injury. He just wasn't sure how long that 'shut down' period was. Would it be weeks?

It was nearing noon when he checked back again, pushing open the door and finding Luca awake. It was so startling to him that he dropped his dampened rag, which he'd been using to gently wipe away the sweat that seemed to come with Luca's twitching nightmares. "Oh!" Marc doubled over, catching his breath and grasping the necklace around his neck. "You... I didn't expect you to be awake..." He laughed, then colored slightly when he remembered that he'd taken the liberty of changing Luca into some of his old clothes while he was still out. Did he mind that? There was no way Marc was going to leave him in soaked, bloody clothes. Especially not at the expense of an entire bed.

Luca smiled when the mortal entered the room, placing the book back on the table and nodding slightly. "I'm sorry that I gave you a turn... I only just woke up and still don't have the strength to get up... But I see you have been taking care of my body while I slept, for this, I thank you." Luca bowed his head in appreciation. "I owe you my life for saving me... I don't know what to give but my service and friendship... If you'll have it."

Once he was able to move on his own, he wanted to go back to his family's manor and find out what had happened. He wanted to know why they had dumped him and who was the man that had stabbed him.

Marc recovered quickly, smiling a little. Good manners were so hard to come by these days and Luca seemed to be hoarding them all. He pushed the door all the way open and stepped forward, to the chair that had been situated near the bed while Marc had taken up a vigil when he grew concerned that Luca may never wake up. "Look, I'm a doctor, it's what I do. I don't ask for much of anything in return. I don't think I'd have... forgiven myself if I just let you die." Maybe he'd gone beyond his necessary job, but that didn't matter. Regardless of whether his beeper rang out an emergency call he was always on the watch for something to do to help. Even if it meant taking a bloodied vampire into his home at the risk of his life.

"How long do you think it'll be before you can walk?" He asked, sitting and leaning forward. "I should be able to give you blood when you need it... If you're not squeamish about taking from humans normally..." Once, as well, he'd been told that vampires usually fed on pigs because they weren't as highly investigated as humans. And it was hard to keep humans quiet.

"I am not sure..." Luca bit his lip and regarded Marc. "How do you know... That I am... What I am?" he asked. "I... I wasn't sure if your kind even knew vampires existed... Then again... Judging from your necklace... You've at least met one before."

"I am used to drinking blood from a glass, but I don't need too much of it. I am only a half-blood, so I can survive on human food and drink. I... Well, I have a pulse if you noticed... I guess I am more human than my entire family put together." He laughed. "But as for blood... Seeing I lost so much of it, I might need nightly feedings until I feel strong enough... Only a little bit at a time, but it might be too much for one person to take... Perhaps you could feed me pig's blood? It's weaker than human's but I can use it."

Marc tilted his head, his hand going up to the necklace. Bloodstone encircled by a diamond-shaped obsidian. But he didn't speak of it. He didn't try to remember, shouldn't even wear the necklace, but here he was, with the familiar thing in his hand, bringing him comfort when he needed it. He never took it off, never. Not even in the operating room. Pushing past the lump in his throat, Marc shifted a little and sat back.

"I can handle it." He said. "Nightly feedings shouldn't be hard for me to handle. Spontaneous nosebleeds and random flushing aside, my body tends to produce a bit... too much blood. It shouldn't be difficult for me." He dug the pad of his thumb into the sharp diamond's edge of the obsidian of his necklace, and sighed. "I guess... Yeah, I've met one of your kind before. Not a half-blood... He called himself... Gene. Said he didn't come from anywhere, but after a while, he gave me this. Kind of a big commitment he said. It would keep me from turning. So far, so good." He shrugged as if the concept were a weak memory. "A-anyway... Do you remember what happened... to lead you to where I found you?"

The name was familiar, but he was certain he hadn't met the man before. He exhaled as if he had been holding his breath. He laid back and closed his eyes, wondering if they had gone back to their usual grey shade. "I was at my home when someone came to my door... And he stabbed me..." He opened his eyes again as he remembered the pain and confusion. "I think he was an uncle, but I have no idea why he stabbed me... It just doesn't make any sense."

He sat up with a little bit of a struggle, staring down at the odd clothes he was wearing. He realised Marc would have had to clean and dress him. The thought made him blush slightly. "I guess we won't know until I am strong enough to go home and ask."

Family affairs. His family was good enough---sure there were some thorns in the brush but none to be taken very seriously by anyone else. And they didn't often show themselves. How, though, a family member could harm one of their own was hard to imagine, but it happened every day. It could be happening as he thought about it, sitting across from a half-blood vampire. Then he sat up, knocked off guard by the way Luca seemed so adamant to go back home.

"A... are you kidding me? You're going back to... to what? Why? Why would you go back when someone stabbed you there? It could happen again!" He sat back and slapped a hand over his mouth. Why was he going on about it? It was Luca's decision. Not his. Marc wouldn't be able to stop him if he wanted to go back but the danger was too present. What if they thought he was already dead? Why not leave it at that?

"I know it's none of my business..." He said at last, puffing out a breath. "But... I'm not letting you go on your own. I'll come with you when you go."

"I have to go back home... I need to find out why they dumped me and left me for dead..." Luca couldn't understand Marc's shock. He had to go back home. "Besides... We are very close... I... Well, I am a Moretti. You must at least know the name." Admitting he was part of the notorious family known for drug trafficking and general crime-related activities was hard for Luca. "If I don't go back... I can't be banished... They'll kill me for sure this time..."

He sighed and shook his head. He didn't expect the mortal to understand. "Family means everything to us. If we didn't have each other, we'd have all died out by now."