undergrounds | [OPEN: PLOT] KIDNAPPED BY VAMPIRES?!

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[OPEN: PLOT] KIDNAPPED BY VAMPIRES?!

There aren’t many narrow, dark alleyways in Richmond -- but there are some.

Lancelot only needs to walk down one to get in trouble.

He’s cutting through between houses on his way back from Tesco. He hadn’t meant to be long, just needed some fresh milk and a loaf of bread for next week, so he’s only dressed in a light t-shirt and some cut-offs. The air is still warm even this late, and he’s distracted -- half tapping his phone awake every so often wondering if he should say something. Faolan doesn’t normally stand him up, but it has been difficult lately. Then again what if something happened? Should he check? He doesn’t want to be clingy, after all…

His senses prickle, telling him something is happening, and he barely gets enough time to turn around before something is being swung at him. There’s a soft clack as his phone hits the ground and skitters away into someone’s front garden, and bread and milk get dumped unceremoniously into someone’s bin before the vampires vanish away.

All the lights are on in his flat, music still softly cycling through his library, but anyone who hops the fence into his back garden will realise Lily is pacing the kitchen all alone.

*************************************

Faolan is a man dedicated to his job, dedicated to his cause, and dedicated to finding an answer when a challenge presents itself to him. Which is why, when confronted with the issue of what to do about Raymond, he finds himself struggling with the dilemma. Of course the vampire is a maniac, a danger to the public, but he is also currently faction leader for Islington, which means that by proxy, he is creating a danger through his vampires as well.

It gives him a lot to think about, which is exactly what he's doing, going over various reports of vampire activity from the past month, taking note of the steady incline of injury or homicide at the hands of the Islington vampires, and correlating it with the changes in policy that the vampires have enacted since then. He's not sure exactly what he's looking for, but he knows he'll find it if he just looks hard enough. And in fact, he's looking so hard that he works straight through the time that he'd arranged to meet up with Lancelot, and a good hour beyond that point before he realizes what he's done and leaps to his feet to track down his mobile with a curse.

Lancelot's mobile rings out with no response and Faolan curses again before shooting him a quick text to apologize for himself. And then another to ask if he'd rather reschedule. While Faolan waits for a response he checks the time and clears up his desk for the night. Putting away the reports and locking them up in the bottom drawer of his desk. Grabbing his phone and impatiently waiting for a response as he slips on his jacket and jogs downstairs to the main floor.

Ten minutes pass and he tries calling again. The phone rings out. Faolan wonders whether Lancelot had just gone to bed at this point, but it's early yet. Maybe he's left it on vibrate? He calls a few more times in succession, all of them ringing out to voicemail. He leaves one, as he heads out to the train station, deciding he might as well head to Lancelot's flat to apologize for himself, if nothing else. Sending another text, asking him if he's alright with that. Waiting for a response as he makes the trip that never comes.

By the time Faolan's made it to Lancelot's neighborhood, he's made his way through feeling guilty, then angry at himself, then angry at Lancelot for reacting this way, then working his way increasingly through a state of concern. He's pulled far more stupid stunts than missing a planned get-together with Lancelot, and the other man had never purposely stopped talking to him then. He tries to reason out what might have happened, maybe he had a headache, maybe he'd gone to bed, but the fact is that until Faolan knows for certain he can't help but feel an increasing amount of dread building up within him.

A feeling that does nothing to dissipate as Faolan reaches the other man's flat to find the lights on, the doors locked, music quietly seeping through from the stereo, and no response to the door. Not even when he rings the bell several times. The fact that he can hear Lily pacing inside concerns him even more, to the point where he decides to pop over to Lancelot's neighbor's to beg the key off of her (on the pretense that he'd lost the one he'd been given, which earned him a wary once-over but he'd been over enough to be recognizable at this point, for better or worse).

It doesn't take long for Faolan to determine that he isn't home. Nor does it take him long to determine that there's more at play than the other man being angry at him at this point. Whatever Lancelot might be feeling about Faolan after he'd skipped out on him that night, Lancelot would never leave Lily alone like this.

After three hours, sitting in the other man's flat with his dog, calling his mobile with no response, Faolan knows without a doubt that something is wrong. That Lancelot is missing. And come hell or high water, he will find him, he will find who did this, and he will make them pay.

((ooc: there are three threads below -- feel free to tag into one or more as you like! planning for this plot began here, but if you hadn't tagged into that please don't let that stop you from participating in this plot! LET'S RESCUE LANCELOT YOU GUYS!!))

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Yes, Faolan can see what happened to Lancelot physically. But he doesn't know the full extent of what Lancelot has been through in the past few days. And if the other man does not want to share, then perhaps he will never know. Faolan doesn't want to push him, but he does wonder if Lancelot might feel better for sharing. Perhaps not in the moment, but at a later time. To have unburdened himself on someone else.

That choice is for Lancelot and Lancelot alone, and so after a moment Faolan nods mutely and continues his preparations. Sufficiently soaking the gauze before glancing back up at the other man and frowning slightly himself.

"This will sting," he says, softly. It's a mild solution, but he's going to need to make sure everything's thoroughly cleaned. These are vampire bites after all, and Faolan knows better than to simply let them fester. He reaches for Lancelot's hand, turning his wrist over gently, making a mental note to put some bruise cream on the rings around his wrist as he starts on a mark on his inner arm just above it. "Let me know if you need me to stop at any point and I will," he says, glancing up at the other man to try and get a good sense of how he's handling the whole thing.

He flinches slightly the first time it makes contact, but that's about as much reaction as Lancelot gives -- eyes drifting over to Lily who is surveying the whole thing with atroubled sort of expression. If she could help, she would! She does not know how to help here, though! What should she do?

There's something calming about the simplicity of her response to it all, at least. Lily doesn't judge or pity, she only knows that they are good friends and all she ever wants is to help or play or eat. Lancelot knows what to expect from her.

Faolan is a little more complicated, even though he always does mean well.

"Can you -- get me a drink?" He prompts finally, at least fighting the urge to get up and get it himself. "See if there's -- apple juice left?"

Or just something other than water, something with some degree of sugar and flavour to keep him going as the adrenaline begins to fade.

Faolan has started to wonder how the other man is doing, equally as concerned about the fact that Lancelot wasn't giving much of a reaction as much as he might be if he were grimacing in response to it instead. He's almost relieved when the other man stops him as he does.

"Ah..." he says, "of course. I think there should be." A comment which speaks perhaps of the fact that Faolan has been spending his last few nights here at the other man's flat, keeping Lily company. He puts the gauze down for a moment and moves to push himself up to fetch a glass and then wandering over to the fridge to fill it up. The juice seems to still be alright so he pours a drink out for the other man and pads back over to sit with him. Tentatively holding it out to the other man once he's seated, knowing this isn't going to be comfortable for the other man. "Here..."

Ah, yes. He hadn't really thought ahead to the drinking part. The realisation makes him press his lips together unhappily as he slowly takes the drink, gathers up his courage before quickly taking a sip and putting down the glass with a wince.

Maybe he should buy straws. Does he have straws already? Maybe, he isn't sure.

"Thank you," he manages, and tries not to think how many actions involve lifting and lowering his arms in his life.

Faolan is thinking much the same himself really. Is there anything he can do to help? He needs to be able to drink. Maybe there's something he can do, something he can get for him. A straw...? Faolan thinks hard for a long moment about whether he would have one. Lancelot must not, otherwise he would have requested it too. Or maybe...

He glances over towards the kitchen counter, realization dawning on him. Well, it's already in the bin but. Given how much pain the other man is in, he doesn't think he'd mind too much? And he'd wash it off. Moving to stand, Faolan crosses the kitchen to the bin where he has thrown away a late night takeaway container complete with cup and straw for the drink he'd ordered. With a glance over his shoulder at Lancelot he grabs the straw out and moves to the sink and gives it a thorough rinsing off before crossing back to offer it to the other man.

"Here, use this if you like," he says. "I know what it looks like, but. It's clean, I promise." It was at the top of the garbage in the bin after all. "Unless you have a fresh one..." He adds, coloring slightly as he realizes that he's done all that assuming not without even asking.

Lancelot watches the proceedings bemused, not fully understanding what Faolan is up to then being oddly perplexed about the how and why when he works it out.

"I might," he admits slowly, "I did buy some in May for the party, I can't remember if there are any left. The small far drawer near the wall, where the matches are."

Or, he thinks privately, Faolan could have run down to the supermarket quickly. More hygienic. Still, it's the thought that counts he supposes.

Ah... Faolan colors further and takes a moment to stand and cross the kitchen to go searching for said box of straws. Trying to keep himself from saying or doing anything to make matters worse. He's definitely unusually quiet while he does though, and perhaps more than a bit embarrassed. And/or mortified. There had been a time when he had had to make do with what he had. With what he was given. He keeps forgetting that isn't necessarily always (or even usually for that matter) the case.

"Here," Faolan says, at last producing a fresh straw from the drawer and holding it out to the other man. Not really attempting to look him in the eye as he had done so. All of this, he just keeps getting it wrong. No matter how hard he tries. And that's perhaps the most frustrating thing of all. What must Lancelot think of him...

He remembers to throw the other straw away again before sitting heavily in the chair across from the other man and running his hand over his face as he does. It's been a long few days of constant effort. Little sleep. And now continuing to make an idiot of himself just as before. God, is he tired.

Lancelot carefully takes the straw, watching Faolan steadily as he goes to throw away the other one and slumps into his chair. He looks tired, he thinks, and that is something Lancelot can sympathise with. He's exhausted himself. They're tired for different reasons, though. Faolan has been worried, and given... everything Lancelot now knows he supposes he must stressed, frightened. Would he have been the same way? He doesn't know. It's hard for him to imagine.

For a second he hesitates, drops the straw into his drink, then he shuffles his chair around to Faolan. Until they're side by side, Lancelot's eyes still dropped to his glass.

"Thank you," he murmurs, and he wants to say something else but he doesn't know what to say. He's tired and in pain and all he really wants to do is sleep.

Faolan shakes his head at the other man, picking his head up out of his hands as he looks back up to the other man, who has now moved his chair to sit beside him. Faolan wishes... He wishes a lot of things. And the weight of those wishes weighs heavily on his mind, as for the most part there's nothing he can do about the majority of them. And he's too much of a coward to address the rest.

"I'm just glad to have you back," he admits quietly, finally breaking a long moment of silence stretched out between them, shrugging slightly as he does. "Glad that we managed to track down that house. That you were still there. That we were able to get you out..." He tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling as he continues, "I think I would have torn that whole place apart to find you. I suppose I nearly did..." he admits quietly, glancing at the other man somewhat self-consciously before back down at his hands in his lap and focuses more on the here and now.

"Some of those bites are pretty nasty, but they'll heal," he says. "I can put some gauze over them if you'd like. It would keep from rubbing them too much. You might feel better without all that tape just yet, though..."

Something about the way Faolan says all that makes Lancelot's gut clench. He knows it's true, after all. Faolan would have ripped the place apart, and somehow the knowledge makes Lancelot feel oddly ashamed that he isn't giving Faolan what he wants. That Faolan still feels awkward and uncomfortable and that everything isn't going more... smoothly. His eyes skip away and he swallows down the awkward muddle of emotion, tries to focus on the question. Gauze?

"They should probably breathe a little, dry out. Did you get them all?"

When he was cleaning them, considering Lancelot interrupted to ask for a drink. He glances down at himself, frowns slightly in thought -- trying to remember all the places he was bitten or might have scratches.

Faolan shrugs again slightly, trying to remember where he'd left off cleaning the other man's wounds. He'd made it a point to start with the worst first and get them out of the way. Were there any left that he hadn't gotten to? Would it matter if he just left them be? He gives the other man a brief once-over, before reaching for the gauze he'd been using to clean them again. "Almost," he says. "Here."

He slips out of his chair to sit cross-legged on the floor before the other man and reaches for the bites around his ankles and calves that he hadn't gotten to before. There's something oddly intimate about locations of these wounds that if Faolan had been thinking about it, might have left him fumbling and awkward. But he is tired. The adrenaline rush is wearing off, as are the endorphins from having rescued the other man for that matter. It leaves him quieter and more contemplative than he might otherwise be, as he works on cleaning the last of the worst of the bites and scratches. Wondering to himself now that it's all over when his welcome will run out again.

"Do you want anything else?" he asks, not looking up from where he is working on a particularly nasty bite that looks as though Lancelot tried to kick out at the vampire while it fed. He can't imagine that Lancelot has had much to eat in the last few days. He can't imagine he's very hungry right now either. Maybe if there are any biscuits...? Toast...?

"Maybe something plain, later. I think I'm too tired for now."

Although goodness knows how much later that will be. If he sleeps he has no idea how long he'll sleep for, or what time it is for that matter.

"Have something if you'd like, though, please don't let me stop you."

Even if, from the looks of things, Faolan has made himself quite at home already. Lancelot does not mind, in truth, it is only that the unexpected surprise of it hits him awkwardly. That Faolan had been here without his knowledge, seemingly, while he was not here. It is good that Lily had company, though. He is quite sure she would have been glad of it.

Faolan shakes his head slightly. "I'm fine," he replies. He doesn't think he could eat anything now, certainly not while the other man wearily sits by watching him. Perhaps later, when Lancelot is resting, he might make himself something. When he is certain that the other man will not need him just then. In truth, he knows that he probably doesn't need him for anything just now either. But Faolan can't quite shake the part of him that needs to stay there by his side, watching over him like a loyal hound.

He lets out a long breath, sitting up straight as he finishes the last of the wounds around Lancelot's ankles and calves and glances up at the other man once more. He keeps mentioning that he's tired, and god does he look it. Faolan chews on his lip for a moment, before speaking up again. "That should be the last of it. You should get some rest now, if you can." He knows what it is to be bone tired and unable to sleep, after all. He's hoping that Lancelot feels safe enough here in his own flat that that will not be the case, though. He's hoping that his own presence there might be helping at least somewhat in that regard. Though he knows that is a ridiculous hope to have.

Rest sounds about as appealing as a thing could possibly be. Lancelot nods enthusiastically, stifles a slight yawn and winces as he lifts a hand to try and smother it.

"Forgive me," he mumbles, because he feels as if he should be doing something to thank Faolan but all he wants to do is sleep. He can feel his blinks getting slower no matter how much he tries to fight it. "I will make it up to you, I swear --" and he pushes to his feet a little unsteadily, Lily suddenly standing herself in anticipation of everyone going somewhere. Maybe for a walk! Maybe to feed her! So many exciting options!

Faolan moves to stand and reaches a hand out to steady the other man, moving to gently hush Lily. He can take care of her once Lancelot is settled, he promises. (Once it is actually time for her to be fed for that matter.) He motions to the glass of juice in the other man's hand instead.

"You're fine," Faolan replies, before "I can take that." He reaches for the glass and gently takes it from him to set it aside on the table before stepping forward to help guide the other man through the flat to his bedroom. Not that he doesn't think he won't know the way -- it's Lancelot's flat after all -- but Lancelot has been through a lot these past few days and he just wants to help in any way that he can. Make himself feel useful while he is still able.

He lets Faolan take the glass and leans slightly into him, grateful for the help even if he thinks he could have made it on his own. Lancelot walks slowly, but doesn't sway so much to be concerning. He's tired, but not about to pass out.

"Thank you," he murmurs again, nearly habitually, and as he reaches the bed he turns and sits down hard with a sigh. Lily has followed at what she deems a 'good' distance and watches curiously, head cocking as she tries to understand what is happening and tail swishing hopefully. "I think I could sleep for a year given the chance."

Hopefully he won't actually, though.

Faolan hopes that he won't either, for that matter. For a start, he's only just rescued the other man back. And while that might be slightly more normal if he'd saved him from the land of the fae, considering that he'd stolen him from a regular old house across the city that's not exactly normal behavior.

Still, he offers the other man something of a smile. "Maybe I should plan on waking you in a few hours then," he suggests. "Just in case." He might want something to eat by then? Faolan rather doubts it, though. Still, he's probably still rather dehydrated, on top of being anemic from the blood loss. He wonders if maybe he shouldn't pop down to the store to get him some sort of a sports drink or something. Ah, well, they can cross that bridge later.

Squirming he toes off his shoes and eases himself down onto the bed and blinks slowly a moment before registering what Faolan has said.

"Oh -- forgive me, don't feel you have to stay."

He frowns in concern and shifts enough that he can fix his eyes on the other man -- studying him. On the one hand, he would somewhat be reassured by company. On the other, though, surely Faolan will have other things to do himself? Will he not be tired, himself? Well, Lancelot supposes he could use the futon but he hasn't come prepared or packed for anything like that...

Faolan shakes his head. He had seen the way that the other man hadn't wanted to be left alone in the cab earlier. Just because he's home now, that feeling can't have completely gone yet. And Faolan will stay with him, he vows, until he feels safe in his own home again. Until he has outstayed his welcome as before. But until that point, and while there is a chance that he might do better keeping the other man company than worrying about him from afar, here is where he will stay.

"I want to," he insists, softly yet firmly. "Please," he adds, "let me... Let me. Be here for you. If only for a little while..." He's only just got him back, it would kill him to be turned away now. But it is ultimately Lancelot's decision in the end. No matter what Faolan might want.

Lancelot debates that a moment somewhat tiredly, finally just nods.

"Get yourself a drink if you want," he murmurs, "you're welcome to the TV. Wake me before it gets dark."

He'd rather be up again in a few hours to eat then try and sleep through the night then sleep all day and wake up early. Pawing awkwardly at the covers he scrapes them back and curls up under them, not bothering to get undressed any more first. It'd hurt trying to scrape off layers, and he doesn't particularly care. Is too tired to care. Even as uncomfortable as he is, he's so exhausted that sleep isn't long coming.

Faolan nods slightly, reaching forward to help the other man with the blankets. Not tucking him in exactly, but easing his struggles with them as he does. "I'll be here if you need me," he says, softly, moving back and away to hover near the doorway. "Get some sleep. I promise to wake you."

He disappears into the kitchen to fetch himself some water, and though he really should eat something he's too exhausted to be hungry. He sits on the futon for a good few minutes, thinking about watching television as Lancelot instructed, but he doesn't really have the focus nor the interest to pay attention to a show like that, and his nerves are too shot to want anything on as background noise. He thinks about laying down for a nap himself, but the adrenaline that's kept him going for the last few days has gone and left him jittery. He contemplates taking Lily for a walk to try to work some of it out of his system but quickly shoots that down. He can't imagine leaving Lancelot alone right now, when he is perhaps at his most vulnerable of all.

Faolan doesn't know how long he sits by himself on the futon of Lancelot's flat before the quiet surrounding him has him nearly crawling out of his skin as well, and he stands to pace. To get himself some more water. To contemplate something stronger and then throw that thought out the window instead. Eventually he finds himself lingering in the doorway of Lancelot's bedroom, gently shushing Lily's greeting him as he peers in to check on the other man. It's far too soon to be waking him and Lancelot is obviously dead to the world, but Faolan needs... Comfort, really. Reassurance. Things he has no right to be demanding, especially of the other man himself. Lancelot had been the one missing, after all. He himself should have no right, by comparison.

Still, he finds himself slipping inside to pad across the room and perch on the side of the other man's bed. Watching him sleep for a long moment before reaching to gently take one of Lancelot's sprawled hands, cradling it between his own. 'I'm so glad you're safe,' he doesn't say aloud. Nor does he say, 'I missed you.' 'I was so worried.' 'I love you.' But the words are there, both said and unsaid, hovering between them as he waits for dark and for the time to wake Lancelot as he'd promised. As he waits for dark and quietly and simply just holds the other man's hand.

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[OPEN: PLOT] KIDNAPPED BY VAMPIRES?!

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