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Samantha’s birth was a long and exhausting ordeal, even for Daniel, who was fortunately not the one giving birth. There were no serious complications, not really; Alice’s life was never in danger, the labor just went on for what seemed like an entire week.
In reality, it was forty hours. Daniel shouldn’t have been this exhausted, after all, he had gone much longer without sleeping before, although the constant cocktail of drugs swirling around in his body in his 20’s was probably the thing that made it possible.
Now Daniel is clean, happy, and extremely sleep-deprived.
It’s the middle of the night, and he has an article to finish. Alice is asleep in the hospital room and Daniel sits at the rickety table, a soft clack-clack-clack rhythm playing on the typewriter as he pushes the keys, one letter after the other. He isn’t worried that Alice is going to wake up - she is so used to the noise that it barely registers.
Well, that, and Alice also hasn’t slept in the last three days, so she is knocked out cold, while Samantha is being checked on by the nurses in the other room.
It’s four in the morning when Daniel stumbles out to get some coffee. He pushes through tired nurses nearing the end of their night shifts, dark circles under their eyes that rival Daniel’s, only made worse by the fluorescent lights.
The corridors seem endless and he gets lost once, only to be set on the right path by a sympathetic janitor who definitely has seen his fair share of half-awake fathers.
It’s salvation when Daniel finds the vending machine. He doesn’t even count the change or look at the buttons he presses. He pushes his head against the body of the machine; it’s pleasantly warm compared to the chilly hospital air, and it whirrs loudly as it heats water and adds it to the overpriced instant coffee.
He wonders how Samantha is doing. Hopefully she is asleep as well. Being born is a huge deal, Daniel guesses, all the lights and sounds that had previously been muffled coming to life, harsher than ever before, and you’re hit with every sensation at once.
Being born is probably similar to coming down from a high.
Daniel doesn’t even notice that the coffee is done for a good while, not until he jolts awake from losing his balance. He curses under his breath and looks around. No one’s seen him. Lucky.
He grabs the shitty little plastic cup, but at least the coffee is hot and it’s warming his fingers pleasantly as he wanders through the corridors once again. Which room was Alice in again? 123? 127? He was never good with numbers. He sips the coffee, only to burn his tongue, which makes him wince, then he remembers Alice’s entire lower body was just split open, so he forces his face to go back into a neutral position.
It’s then that something grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him into a room.
Daniel yelps and the hot coffee spills all over his shirt, and he wants to scream, his skin is on fire, and he stumbles, hitting the back of his head into the wood of the door now behind him as he is being pushed up against it.
“No,” he whispers, desperate.
It’s Armand. Of course it’s fucking Armand.
Daniel tries to scream and no voice leaves his mouth. He can’t even open his mouth. He feels tears gather as Armand stares at him, burning orange eyes that drill into his soul, he is definitely in Daniel’s head, flipping through his memories from the past year like it’s some fucked-up Rolodex.
“I cannot count on you to tell me yourself,” Armand replies. He is standing a foot or two away from Daniel, not even touching him, but Daniel can feel the chains of his vampiric powers holding him in place, as if he was cuffed to the door. He still can’t speak, and his chest still burns so bad, Armand doesn’t allow control of his body, but he can feel the seething pain radiating on the patch of skin.
“Nor can I count on you not to draw attention to us. I’m sure you have not forgotten how to communicate with me with your mouth occupied, yes?”
There is a tear rolling down Daniel’s cheek, and he wants to nod, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want Armand to be here, he should go back to Alice, he should check on Sam, what if Armand has done something to her, what if…
“Quiet your mind, Daniel. I have touched neither your wife or your child. I haven’t even touched you, in fact.” There is a twitch of a smile on Armand’s lips, and there is another tear forming in the corner of Daniel’s right eye.
What do you want? the human finally thinks as he pushes his other thoughts into the back of his mind.
“I merely wished to congratulate you on your fatherhood. I never would have thought that it was a role that you would want to fulfill, but… ah. It wasn’t your idea. An unplanned child. Her name is quite ironic, don’t you think? Samantha. The female version of the name Samuel, the child Hannah and Elkanah prayed so long for. How much did you pray, Daniel?”
No child wants to know they were an accident.
Daniel doesn’t answer. He can’t. What is the point if every single thought is already laid bare?
He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want any of this. If only Armand could leave, let him forget, let him finally go, let him live.
“Oh, Daniel. I will never truly let you go.” Armand reaches out then and strokes Daniel’s face, who cannot lean into nor recoil from the touch. He is grateful for the mind-control then, because he isn’t sure which one his body would have opted for.
“You know this,” the vampire continues, eyes dropping to Daniel’s cheek as the skin is sliced open by the sharp nail of Armand’s thumb, just enough to break the skin. Daniel doesn’t even flinch.
“I could tell you anything and you… well, perhaps you would hesitate, yes. If I asked you to bring your daughter here to me, you might try to flee first, save her life. But if you were certain that was the only way back to me…” Armand trails off, his thumb sliding down to his neck over his neck, soft fingertips ghosting over the decade-old scar.
Daniel hates it.
He hates how he would gladly be Abraham leading Isaac up the mountain. Would Armand be merciful enough to supply the ram?
He hates how Armand is both God and the pyre.
There is a shaky breath leaving Daniel’s mouth, which makes him realize he can make sounds now. He still doesn’t scream.
“That’s all I needed to know,” Armand says with a small smile, but there is sadness in his eyes. He kisses Daniel’s cheek, wipes away the blood with lips Daniel could draw from memory, and he wants to kiss him.
He wants Armand to kiss him, because there is a difference. Plausible deniability.
Armand doesn’t.
Daniel opens his eyes which he didn’t remember closing, and Armand is gone. His knees give out, his whole body does and Daniel crumples in the empty room, the window open and menacing. Chilly air blows in, only to remind him of the icy touch he was so familiar with once.
Stumbling, Daniel exits the room, trying to find someone, anyone, until he stops a poor nurse, and Daniel is grabbing her shoulders, begging, pleading to see his daughter.
And she is sweet and understanding, she knows how new parents can be. Daniel’s heart beats in his throat, adrenaline and cortisol levels off the charts as he is led to the room.
He expects something horrible. A gory mess, an infant barely hours old, mauled and bloody, and Daniel would fall onto his knees and sob, and it would finally be a reason for him to truly hate Armand, never forgive him again.
Sam is there, asleep. Daniel knows it’s her, she has the same birthmark on her forehead she did hours ago.
So, he makes his way back to Alice’s room. The hospital bed is small and she deserves rest, but Daniel wants to climb in next to her, he wants to apologize, he wants to scream and kick and cry, but he doesn’t. He falls asleep on the floor, on his stomach, allowing the cool tiles to press against his burned chest.
He isn’t sure if it’s soothing or it’s self-punishment. He’s always had problems telling the two apart.