[Original: Fiction] "Giving Blood" [Zeke Jones, PG]
Title: Giving Blood
Prompt: writerverse challenge #04 december table of doom, prompts ‘in the nick of time’, ‘a dangerous solution’, ‘captive’, ‘lost things’, ‘between worlds’ ‘it’s for the best’
Word Count: 1,334
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Warnings: injuries and/or blood
Summary: Howell told me later that I was almost dead when he found me.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Giving Blood
Howell told me later that I was almost dead when he found me, in the root-cellar of an abandoned farmhouse miles from nowhere. He said he’d thought I was dead, there was so much blood pooled around me, but that I stirred when he checked for my pulse.
I only remember blinking awake to find my partner leaning over me, looking more worried than I’d ever seen him.
“Zeke,” he said, and I knew it was bad.
Howell only used my nickname if he needed to soften something terrible that had just happened to us, or if he was especially proud of something I’d just done- and I didn’t think that getting kidnapped was anything to be really proud of.
“Sir,” I rasped. “Where-?”
“Fifty miles outside of the city,” said Howell. “If you meant the bastard who took you, he’s dead.”
I wasn’t the least bit surprised at that. I tried to sit up and sort of twitched instead. “Sir?”
“Stay down, Jones. You lost a lot of blood and…”
I must have passed out then, because when I woke up again, I was half-way upright, leaning against Howell’s shoulder.
“Jones,” he said, like that was far from the first time he’d said it. “Jones, when was the last time you Fed?”
It was harder to remember the answer to that than it should have been. “Um, yesterday? Monday.”
“Jones, it’s Thursday. You’ve been gone for three days.”
“What?” I tried to sit up again, and would have kept toppling forward until if Howell hadn’t caught me.
“Jones,” he said again. “How much blood did you actually have on Monday?”
“Not much?” I said, as much a question as an answer. I’d had some blood jelly on my toast that evening, before the start of our shift, but there was still a full pint of blood sitting in my fridge at home.
Suddenly, I realized that my partner was barechested and barefoot, wearing only badly-fitting pants. “Sir, did you come find me as the wolf?”
“There were no leads, Hezekia, you just vanished.” Someone else hearing that clipped tone would have thought Howell was angry, but I could hear the worry and fear beneath it. “Until I could suddenly smell your blood, and followed it… here. I’m not entirely sure which jurisdiction we’re in, actually.”
“Then you…?” I began, shocked. Howell had run for miles as the wolf, with no equipment, no weapons, no back-up. He had killed the man who attacked me, attacked those other girls, all on his own. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, yet,” he said, gruff again. “Can you walk?”
I couldn’t. Howell kept me upright, but I swayed dangerously. “Maybe you could call us a cab, sir,” I suggested weakly.
“Can’t,” said Howell. “No radio, and there’s no phone here.”
“Oh.”
I had to think about that for a moment, my head against Howell’s shoulder to ease the throbbing behind my eyes. We had no way of bringing anyone else here, so we’d have to walk out ourselves. My whole body ached, and we weren’t even moving yet, but I had to try.
“Okay.”
I took a careful step forward- and crumpled in my partner’s arms. He lowered me carefully to the floor, but I was already fading in and out. I came to again in time to hear him say, “Dammit, Jones, stay with me!”
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled.
“You have to Feed, Jones,” said Howell, slow and clear so I wouldn’t miss any words.
“Pigs?” I asked.
“There’s no animals here.” Howell paused. “You’ll have to use me.”
“What!?”
Most vampires drank only animal blood, but some did Feed on humans, usually groupie-types who bought into the ridiculously romantic stories- I got my blood from a butcher in Reading Terminal Market that came from the same pigs that became the smoked bacon I bought from them, too.
“You have to,” said Howell.
“But, sir-”
“I will not watch you die, Hezekia Jones,” he growled.
I swallowed hard. “Sir…”
I didn’t know what would happen if I bit a human, let alone a werewolf. The old myths were wrong, semi-undead creatures did have blood, but we were separate species. I couldn’t Turn my partner, there was no danger of that, but so many other things could go wrong…
“Zeke,” he said softly, resting one large hand against my cheek. “Let me help you.”
I pressed my lips together so tightly that I could feel them turn white, and nodded.
Howell held out his left arm, wrist up, and made a fist. I wrapped my fingers around it, one on the base of his thumb, the other just below his elbow, then looked up at him again. He nodded. With a deep breath, I concentrated on the thrum of his pulse beneath my fingers and felt my fangs emerge.
There’s no way to describe what it felt like, biting into real living flesh, the taste of blood fresh from a beating heart. In seconds, my head was clear again, parts of my body that I hadn’t known were aching suddenly stopped, my own blood sang in my ears- and I pulled back, gasping.
The movies would have you believe that Feeding was a glamorous thing, two neat holes in the victim’s neck and a delicate drip of blood to be wiped from the vampire’s lips.
This was nothing like that.
I grabbed Howell’s wrist with both hands, squeezing hard to stop the continued bleeding. “Oh god, oh god, oh god…”
“I’m okay,” Howell said, breathlessly. “Just… just give me a minute.”
“You’re not going to pass out, are you?” I asked, not mollified in the slightest by that. “My dad always passed out after he gave blood.”
“I am not going to pass out,” he growled.
There was already a bit of fabric torn from the hem of my t-shirt- it was tied around my arm, Howell must have done it while I was out, since he had no shirt of his own to tear up for me- so I ripped off another piece and tied it around his wrist.
“Feeling better?” Howell asked me.
“Better?” I repeated, light-headed in a completely different way. “Sir-”
“I’m fine, Jones,” he snapped, and he really was starting to look it. “Let’s get out of here.”
We only had to walk for six miles, both of us half-holding up the other, before we found a phone to call in for a patrol car. They sent an ambulance instead- the EMTs bandaged Howell’s wrist properly and released him, but insisted that I go to the hospital for the day, presumably so they could be sure I wasn’t about to drop dead of werewolf poisoning.
My partner came to pick me up as the sun set, holding out a cup of coffee before he’d even said hello.
I didn’t take it. “Sir, what you did was dangerous, too dangerous.”
Howell stared at me, thoughtfully. I almost expected him purposely misunderstand and agree that it had been dangerous, for me, but I wasn’t entirely surprised when he sighed and said, “No, Hezekia, it was selfish. I had no way of knowing what my blood would do to you. And it wasn’t right of me to ask you to attempt something so uncertain.”
The sinking sun threw golden shadows over the hospital parking lot, catching in Howell’s regulation haircut, and I suddenly realized how old my partner really was. He’d been a police officer for over a hundred years, how many partners had he lost in that time? And not to anything he could have even prevented, but simply to old age and a human lifespan?
But I wasn’t human. I’d live just as long as Howell would- longer, if I didn’t do something stupid and get myself killed.
I took the cup of coffee. “It wasn’t that selfish, sir,” I said, hoping he’d understand.
Howell smiled and handed me a doughnut, lemon-filled with powdered sugar- he understood perfectly. “Thank you, Zeke.”
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow
Prompt: writerverse challenge #04 december table of doom, prompts ‘in the nick of time’, ‘a dangerous solution’, ‘captive’, ‘lost things’, ‘between worlds’ ‘it’s for the best’
Word Count: 1,334
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Warnings: injuries and/or blood
Summary: Howell told me later that I was almost dead when he found me.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Giving Blood
Howell told me later that I was almost dead when he found me, in the root-cellar of an abandoned farmhouse miles from nowhere. He said he’d thought I was dead, there was so much blood pooled around me, but that I stirred when he checked for my pulse.
I only remember blinking awake to find my partner leaning over me, looking more worried than I’d ever seen him.
“Zeke,” he said, and I knew it was bad.
Howell only used my nickname if he needed to soften something terrible that had just happened to us, or if he was especially proud of something I’d just done- and I didn’t think that getting kidnapped was anything to be really proud of.
“Sir,” I rasped. “Where-?”
“Fifty miles outside of the city,” said Howell. “If you meant the bastard who took you, he’s dead.”
I wasn’t the least bit surprised at that. I tried to sit up and sort of twitched instead. “Sir?”
“Stay down, Jones. You lost a lot of blood and…”
I must have passed out then, because when I woke up again, I was half-way upright, leaning against Howell’s shoulder.
“Jones,” he said, like that was far from the first time he’d said it. “Jones, when was the last time you Fed?”
It was harder to remember the answer to that than it should have been. “Um, yesterday? Monday.”
“Jones, it’s Thursday. You’ve been gone for three days.”
“What?” I tried to sit up again, and would have kept toppling forward until if Howell hadn’t caught me.
“Jones,” he said again. “How much blood did you actually have on Monday?”
“Not much?” I said, as much a question as an answer. I’d had some blood jelly on my toast that evening, before the start of our shift, but there was still a full pint of blood sitting in my fridge at home.
Suddenly, I realized that my partner was barechested and barefoot, wearing only badly-fitting pants. “Sir, did you come find me as the wolf?”
“There were no leads, Hezekia, you just vanished.” Someone else hearing that clipped tone would have thought Howell was angry, but I could hear the worry and fear beneath it. “Until I could suddenly smell your blood, and followed it… here. I’m not entirely sure which jurisdiction we’re in, actually.”
“Then you…?” I began, shocked. Howell had run for miles as the wolf, with no equipment, no weapons, no back-up. He had killed the man who attacked me, attacked those other girls, all on his own. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, yet,” he said, gruff again. “Can you walk?”
I couldn’t. Howell kept me upright, but I swayed dangerously. “Maybe you could call us a cab, sir,” I suggested weakly.
“Can’t,” said Howell. “No radio, and there’s no phone here.”
“Oh.”
I had to think about that for a moment, my head against Howell’s shoulder to ease the throbbing behind my eyes. We had no way of bringing anyone else here, so we’d have to walk out ourselves. My whole body ached, and we weren’t even moving yet, but I had to try.
“Okay.”
I took a careful step forward- and crumpled in my partner’s arms. He lowered me carefully to the floor, but I was already fading in and out. I came to again in time to hear him say, “Dammit, Jones, stay with me!”
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled.
“You have to Feed, Jones,” said Howell, slow and clear so I wouldn’t miss any words.
“Pigs?” I asked.
“There’s no animals here.” Howell paused. “You’ll have to use me.”
“What!?”
Most vampires drank only animal blood, but some did Feed on humans, usually groupie-types who bought into the ridiculously romantic stories- I got my blood from a butcher in Reading Terminal Market that came from the same pigs that became the smoked bacon I bought from them, too.
“You have to,” said Howell.
“But, sir-”
“I will not watch you die, Hezekia Jones,” he growled.
I swallowed hard. “Sir…”
I didn’t know what would happen if I bit a human, let alone a werewolf. The old myths were wrong, semi-undead creatures did have blood, but we were separate species. I couldn’t Turn my partner, there was no danger of that, but so many other things could go wrong…
“Zeke,” he said softly, resting one large hand against my cheek. “Let me help you.”
I pressed my lips together so tightly that I could feel them turn white, and nodded.
Howell held out his left arm, wrist up, and made a fist. I wrapped my fingers around it, one on the base of his thumb, the other just below his elbow, then looked up at him again. He nodded. With a deep breath, I concentrated on the thrum of his pulse beneath my fingers and felt my fangs emerge.
There’s no way to describe what it felt like, biting into real living flesh, the taste of blood fresh from a beating heart. In seconds, my head was clear again, parts of my body that I hadn’t known were aching suddenly stopped, my own blood sang in my ears- and I pulled back, gasping.
The movies would have you believe that Feeding was a glamorous thing, two neat holes in the victim’s neck and a delicate drip of blood to be wiped from the vampire’s lips.
This was nothing like that.
I grabbed Howell’s wrist with both hands, squeezing hard to stop the continued bleeding. “Oh god, oh god, oh god…”
“I’m okay,” Howell said, breathlessly. “Just… just give me a minute.”
“You’re not going to pass out, are you?” I asked, not mollified in the slightest by that. “My dad always passed out after he gave blood.”
“I am not going to pass out,” he growled.
There was already a bit of fabric torn from the hem of my t-shirt- it was tied around my arm, Howell must have done it while I was out, since he had no shirt of his own to tear up for me- so I ripped off another piece and tied it around his wrist.
“Feeling better?” Howell asked me.
“Better?” I repeated, light-headed in a completely different way. “Sir-”
“I’m fine, Jones,” he snapped, and he really was starting to look it. “Let’s get out of here.”
We only had to walk for six miles, both of us half-holding up the other, before we found a phone to call in for a patrol car. They sent an ambulance instead- the EMTs bandaged Howell’s wrist properly and released him, but insisted that I go to the hospital for the day, presumably so they could be sure I wasn’t about to drop dead of werewolf poisoning.
My partner came to pick me up as the sun set, holding out a cup of coffee before he’d even said hello.
I didn’t take it. “Sir, what you did was dangerous, too dangerous.”
Howell stared at me, thoughtfully. I almost expected him purposely misunderstand and agree that it had been dangerous, for me, but I wasn’t entirely surprised when he sighed and said, “No, Hezekia, it was selfish. I had no way of knowing what my blood would do to you. And it wasn’t right of me to ask you to attempt something so uncertain.”
The sinking sun threw golden shadows over the hospital parking lot, catching in Howell’s regulation haircut, and I suddenly realized how old my partner really was. He’d been a police officer for over a hundred years, how many partners had he lost in that time? And not to anything he could have even prevented, but simply to old age and a human lifespan?
But I wasn’t human. I’d live just as long as Howell would- longer, if I didn’t do something stupid and get myself killed.
I took the cup of coffee. “It wasn’t that selfish, sir,” I said, hoping he’d understand.
Howell smiled and handed me a doughnut, lemon-filled with powdered sugar- he understood perfectly. “Thank you, Zeke.”
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow