As eager as Eliot was to see Claire once more that evening, he still managed to find a multitude of distractions before he even managed to make his way back to the estate that night.

After his chat with Douglas on the pier that afternoon, he tried to quell his worries about this whole prophecy situation a few different ways. First, by taking a long ride around the massive grounds of Sean’s estate, followed by a solitary walk down the beach. Eventually he somehow ended up once again indulging in a drink at Raven’s Loft.

When he finally did leave the tavern and head up the beach toward the rear gate of the estate, he was further distracted from his destination by his name being called as another approached the estate that evening.

“Lord Eliot” Emma greeted him in her usual way, smiling and curtsying slightly as she caught up with him. Though he had originally met her eight years earlier, when he was suffering his very first bout with withdrawal once Lucian’s blood started to wear off, they still both retained their youthful appearance, neither looking like they were much older than their late teens.

He narrowed his eyes warily at her, a slight sigh escaping his lips as he watched her closely, “Emma” was the only greeting he offered.

“I wasn’t aware you had returned to America. But I suppose now that your brother has been crowned...” she stated softly, seeming a bit wary of the obvious suspicion and distrust with which Eliot now seemed to regard her.

“Which just happened yesterday morning, Emma” he interrupted pointedly. “So how exactly is it that you received that message from your so-called ‘father’ back in France already?” he asked her a bit harshly.

“Pardon?” she asked with a slight stammer.

“There’s no way... no human way,” he corrected, “that you’ve received a message from the other side of the world in just one day’s time. So why are you trying to pretend that you have?”

She seemed more than a bit flustered by his words, “I don’t quite understand what you...” she attempted, her voice stammering even more as his words chipped away hard at the identity she had concocted for herself who knows how many years ago.

“It’s some psychic thing that vampires can do, right? That’s how you always know what’s going on back home as soon as it happens? Your sire, or someone back there is telling you, in your head? Or else you’re just seeing it on your own? Is that it?” he asked, “I’ve known Claire for nearly a decade. I’m quite sure it’s safe to admit to what you are in front of me. You can stop playing this game already, Emma” he told her with a shake of his head.

“Wha---what? Vampires? That’s....” she shook her head violently then, almost as though trying to push his words away, “you’re crazy! You’re saying crazy things! There’s no such thing as those! Why are you trying to confuse me?” she spoke manically now, her hands on her head, red tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks as whatever delusion she had lived in for years was crumbling to pieces before her.

Eliot was quite obviously shocked at such a emotional reaction as he shook his head and moved a step closer, “calm down, Emma, and just try to think clearly, to remember what you are” he told her worriedly. As her state only seemed to worsen, he spoke again, “just look at your tears, Emma. They’re made of blood” he told her softly, “you’re one of them” he added in a more gentle tone.

“No! Take that back!” she nearly shrieked the words, “Je ne suis pas! Je suis humain! Je suis humain!”

Eliot was more than a bit startled by her violent reaction to what he had hoped would help her to begin to make sense of her own existence. But by then, her mental state had devolved so much so that she was pure emotion at that point. Without any rational thoughts left in her shattered mind, she lunged at him, the fangs she did indeed possess piercing his neck as she was upon him in a flash of motion.

With equal helpings of panic and pleasure, Eliot himself was unaware of how many seconds had passed before he felt her being forcefully pulled back, putting a halt to her attack and just possibly saving his very life. Stumbling backwards against the outer wall of the estate, his hand came up to the still bleeding fang marks in his neck, trying to make his eyes focus through the dizziness brought on by such rapid blood loss.

When his eyesight did finally clear, he noted that Lucian had actually been the one who had intervened, pulling Emma from him and tossing her nearly twenty feet. Though, still in the grip of frenzy brought on by her psychotic break, she easily got to her feet with a nearly animalistic snarl. It was now Lucian who her rage had been turned on. In another flash, she lunged for him instead.

Forcing himself to gather his wits and his abilities as quickly as he could, Eliot reacted. With a swift motion of his hand, Emma was tossed backwards once again, this time by some unseen force, and efficiently having her rage redirected once more. As she stood and turned her wild ice blue eyes back to him, Eliot made another quick hand motion, causing a nearby bit of driftwood from the beach to come hurtling through the air, impaling her through the chest from behind.

As she collapsed to the ground, Eliot let out a shuddering breath, trying to stifle shock and panic both as he just stared at her laying there on the beach, no sign of life to be seen. He spent the next several moments continuing to try and catch his breath, as well as get a hold of his emotions, at the same time, trying to stem any further flow of blood from his wound.

Lucian was also trying to calm himself at the same time, whilst trying to make sense of any of what he had just witnessed. He finally made himself look over at where Eliot still stared wordlessly at Emma’s prone, impaled body laying in the sand, tears obvious in his eyes. Taking note of the trickles of blood still seeping through Eliot’s fingers, Lucian allowed his own shaken sigh.

“Mind?” was all Lucian could manage as he stepped closer to Eliot, gesturing to where he still held his hand tight against his neck.

“What?” Eliot replied, the word choked in his throat.

“I can fix that” Lucian offered, his own nerves only slightly less frazzled than Eliot’s right then.

“Right...” Eliot whispered absently, slowly dropping his hand from the two tiny bloody holes.

Lucian then leaned in and gently licked the wounds shut, the slightly pleasurable tingle of the gesture not lost on either man. They both needed a moment to compose themselves once Lucian stepped back from him again. Though Lucian was now the one who seemed light-headed then. Despite the small amount of Eliot’s blood he had ingested, the effect on him was unmistakable, and very nearly intoxicating.

“I was expecting you to pull out your doctor’s bag” Eliot managed after another moment.

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At the sound of Eliot’s words, Lucian forced himself past the strange and unexpected taste of the young man’s blood in order to find his voice again. “Didn’t know I’d need it tonight” Lucian returned, not quite able to suppress the trace of accusation in his tone. Though Lucian’s words just caused Eliot to avert his eyes and swallow another lump in his throat. “And another thing.” Lucian added a moment later.

“What’s that?′ Eliot breathed the words more than spoke them.

“What the fuck just bloody happened?” Lucian asked loudly, the volume of his voice startling Eliot as his eyes immediately came back to the other man.

“Which part?” Eliot managed to return, his voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

“Exactly” Lucian growled back as he turned away with a shake of his head. “Did I not tell you to be careful of that one?”

“Well, yes, but...” Eliot stated, though his voice trailed off, not able to help the way his eyes moved back to Emma’s body once more.

“And how in the world...” Lucian began, only to find his own voice trailing off too, unable to figure out how to even finish that sentence anyway.

There was another long moment of awkward silence between the two men. Though there were even more reasons for that awkwardness now, than just the occurrences of the past ten minutes. And that fact only contributed to the inability for either of them to maintain much in the way of a coherent dialogue with one another.

Finally, Eliot swallowed again, his eyes moving from Emma, back to the nearby gate to the estate, and finally back to Lucian, “what will Sean do?”

“Sean?” Lucian returned as he looked back toward Eliot.

“I doubt he’d be very happy about...” Eliot swallowed another lump in his throat as he cast another glance toward Emma.

“Who the hell would be happy about this?” Lucian returned sharply.

Eliot continued to look shaken as he struggled to ask his next question, “what will he do to me?”

Lucian scoffed as he looked back at Eliot once more, “and that same question didn’t occur to you once during the five years you spent shagging his wife?”

Eliot allowed the slightest glare despite his current state, “I think we both know that is a completely different thing than this” he retorted, then added, pointedly narrowing his eyes, “don’t we?”

That statement caught Lucian unaware, as he struggled a moment to find a response, “she told you?”

And though they had each saved one another’s lives that night, it still seemed to have done nothing to repair that rift that had always existed between the two men. On that thought, Eliot simply gave Lucian another dark look and began to walk away. All the while, trying desperately to push down his own emotions long enough to deal with whatever fallout the entire night would be sure to have. Of course, that was easier said than done when Douglas’ warnings about fate and karma and paradox couldn’t stop replaying through his mind over and over again.

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Rather than returning to Claire’s side that night, as had been his original plan, Eliot instead found himself back at her tavern once more. This was due of course to Eliot’s fear of Sean’s wrath when he found out what had become of one of the Kindred under his protection, not to mention who had done it and how they had done it. As he nursed an entire bottle of alcohol from a dark table in the corner of Raven’s Loft, his fear began to grow as he realized that if Sean had truly wanted to locate and punish Eliot for what he had done to Emma, Claire’s tavern likely wasn’t the best hiding spot.

Though it was Douglas who found him first that night. The attractive young man narrowed his eyes curiously as he noted Eliot there at a corner table, drinking straight from the bottle at that point.

“You should probably go easier on that stuff now. Or at least give yourself an enchantment to improve your tolerance, and hopefully keep you from having... accidents” he settled on as he took a seat across from his protegé, “then again, I suppose that would rather defeat the purpose of trying to drown your problems in alcohol... rather than just fixing them” he added as he continued to watch Eliot closely as he still hadn’t brought his gaze up to meet his.

Eliot just scoffed, “I already tried to fix a problem, another way” he stated, “it led to worse problems” he mumbled.

“Paradox is merciless” Douglas told him bluntly. Seeing that that only seemed to make Eliot take another large swig of alcohol, he moved on, “so was the prophecy really that bad?” he asked cautiously.

Eliot shook his head again, “I didn’t even get around to talking to Claire tonight, before a new catastrophe took place.”

Douglas narrowed his eyes warily at that before placing his hand over Eliot’s wrist with concern. A moment later, they were now in the privacy of Douglas’ home, a few miles away from the estate.

Eliot needed a moment to get his balance and re-orient himself to the world around him, “doing that to me without warning, when I’ve already had half a bottle of alcohol? Not pleasant” he stated as he shakily took a seat on Douglas’ rather dusty sofa after their three years abroad.

“That’s because I want you sober enough to explain your last statement. Now please” Douglas told him with continued worry as he took a seat next to him.

Eliot just buried his face in his hands, “I now understand what you meant by all Malkavians being broken. Really, really broken” he added more softly.

“Explain.”

“I saw Emma tonight and... it didn’t go well” he stated as he shook his head, his face still buried in his hands.

“That’s very vague, Eliot.”

“I tried to help her get more of a grasp on reality and, it... didn’t go well” he repeated with a deep breath.

“Yeah, that usually doesn’t work with them” Douglas confirmed with continued worry in his tone.

“I think I know that now” Eliot mumbled sarcastically, “she went... for lack of a better term... crazy. She nearly killed me before I could even try to react.”

“But you’re ok though?” Douglas stated, the obvious question in his voice. After waiting another moment for Eliot to answer, he spoke again, “So, what happened?”

“Someone I... do not like...” Eliot settled on, “actually saved me, then I had to save him, and it all just went really, really wrong.”

“Vague again” Douglas retorted, his worry sharpening his tone.

Eliot took a deep breath before he made himself try to clarify, painful as that was, “I killed her Douglas! And I did it to save my lover’s... other lover” he shook his head, “and now, my lover’s husband, who’s a fucking three hundred year old vampire Prince, is probably going to kill me! Not a good night!” he finished, desperately turning his eyes back to Douglas, just hoping that he would say something, anything that would make him feel any better right then. Though Eliot somehow doubted that was even possible at all.

“Sounds like you have very interesting taste in lovers” Douglas returned thoughtfully, to which Eliot gave him a cool look. He then moved on, “but ok, go back. How exactly did you kill a vampire? Because, not a lot does that. Especially when the sun’s down” Douglas stated as he gestured toward the nearest window to accent his words.

“You just want the morbid details now? Really?”

“It’s a valid question, Eliot. I mean, let’s make sure you actually did kill her before we march you off to your execution, all right?”

Eliot just shook his head with another shaky breath, “I made a piece of wood fly through her chest.”

“Nice” Douglas returned.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Eliot returned, appalled at how lightly his mentor was taking what he saw as nothing short of a tragedy that would surely lead to his own death.

“No, I mean it, Eliot” Douglas returned, his tone hopeful somehow, “what I mean, is that if you ever actually get attacked by one of them, and somehow are able to get any moment at all to defend yourself. That is literally the best thing you can do in that case.”

“Well, I appreciate your approval,” Eliot returned sarcastically, “but how does it keep me from being murdered by Sean for killing one of his own people?” he exclaimed angrily.

Douglas then smiled back at Eliot, which just caused another look of disbelief in the darker haired man, “Eliot, what you did doesn’t kill them. It'll just keep them paralyzed, unconscious. At least until someone takes it out again” he assured him with a wider grin.

“Excuse me?” Eliot stammered.

“You mean Claire never mentioned that?” Douglas asked curiously.

“Oddly, our pillow-talk never involved a conversation about whether or not piercing her chest with a stake would actually kill her” Eliot replied sarcastically, though the relief on his face was real.

Douglas just scowled at the sarcasm, then added, “but seriously, you’d think she would have mentioned it just so you could defend yourself against her kind, if you ever had to, like tonight” Douglas pointed out softly.

Eliot looked down again, trying to find a response, “Claire just doesn’t think that way. She tries to see the best in people; living or dead” he added more quietly, his mind inadvertently drifting back to the sight of her and Lucian making love the night before.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you are a mage, huh?” Douglas stated pointedly before giving Eliot’s shoulder a slight squeeze and excusing himself to the privy, leaving Eliot to think on his words.