Myrnin sighed and set his book on his lap with the page carefully marked. He sat up straighter in his favorite old armchair. He took his glasses off his nose and put them gently on the small table beside where he sat and rested his chin in his hand. Then he allowed himself to be swept away in his ocean of thoughts.

He thought about Claire. About how much she trusted him… how tightly she would hold on to his hand if he asked. How she'd jump blindly and expect him to catch her. How much faith she had in him.

His laboratory smelled of her. It was now so filled with the pure, innocent scent of little Claire, it nearly overpowered his own. But still, there was an underlying, forever-lingering stench of mold, sorrow and the unmistakable seductive fragrance of darkness.

Oh, that darkness that always called to him from the deepest corners of his little shack of a home, his lab. The sweet whispers of pain that caressed his old, hardened skin like a lover. The darkness he would give in to more often than not. It was easier than thinking. It was where Myrnin went when he just wanted to give up. Give it all up and quit. A place where his only thoughts were about survival. Hunting, preying, drinking. Much simpler and more satisfying than working so painstakingly on the cure to the disease all day. The very disease that he knew was killing him more and more each day. Each time he would fall into his pit of now familiar blackness. The thing that he usually gave himself willingly to.

But those moments of sanity were lovely, too. When he'd be with that wonderful Claire. Smart, sweet and delicate Claire. Claire, who didn't judge him, didn't care if he truly was insane. Who still trusted him, no matter how many times he warned her against it. Oh Claire, when will that girl ever learn?

But, somehow, she was making the dark call less appealing. His uncontrolled spells of madness were occurring less often. There was just something about that girl. Was it her innocence? Ignorance? Righteousness? Brightness?

Did she radiate her light? Was Myrnin unconsciously feeding off her mind?

That was when he knew that it was true. Claire was giving him a little of her brightness each time she came to help him. The answer now was so obvious; Myrnin cursed himself for not realizing it sooner.

But, no. No, no, no, no, no. That couldn't happen. Claire couldn't continue to come to him. Eventually the little trickles of the golden rays he received from Claire wouldn't be enough for him and he'd snap. She would have to leave.

Too many thoughts to have so little motion. He stood and heard something tumble to the floor. He looked down. Ah, his book had still been in his lap. He had nearly forgotten. He picked it up and placed it on his chair and started to pace in the little space provided.

He paced for so long.

Until he heard light footsteps making their way down his alley. Claire. He froze.

No, she couldn't come. Not now.

The door to his shack opened. Small feet padded down the stairs. Claire's small form came into view. She gave Myrnin a genuine smile. He instantly felt better. Now that he knew of what was happening—what he was doing to Claire, he was very aware of the transaction of the light. But how could he not want that? How could he allow himself to let that slip through his fingers?

He looked back down at the floor and he realized his continuous walk had ceased. He started it up again, muttering to himself.

"No. She must leave. For her own good," he murmured, too low for Claire to hear. But she did see his lips moving. Maybe she thought he wasn't all the way present, that she was witnessing the mad ravings of his dark side. Good. Maybe it would scare her away. No, she had seen him worse. That hadn't made her run then, this wouldn't make her run now.

"Myrnin?" Her small voice seemed to echo in his ears. What should he say? Should he yell at her to leave? Should he let her stay a while longer? He seemed to tremble with indecision. "Myrnin?" Her voice was softer, filled with caution.

"Yes, child, be careful," he said sadly.

"Careful of what?"

"Me," he snarled. He looked at her. She was still moving closer to him, ever so close. He could easily reach out and kill her with just the flick of his wrist.

He was being selfish; she needed to get away from here. Run far away. Move out of Morganville. Why was she still here?

Ah, Amelie.

Amelie was forcing her to work for him, forcing her to be her toy. Her plaything. Something Amelie could pick up or throw away, all too easily, any time she wished. He growled to himself.

Claire stopped. She backed away slowly, but she didn't leave. She was looking at him closely. She thought he had growled at her. That made an evil smile slowly creep its way across his face.

"Myrnin, do you need your medicine?" She took a small vile out of her pocket that held the red crystals. His full attention was brought back to Claire, to the little bottle of drugs she had in her hands. Something that would bring him back, but only for a few hours. Always only a few hours….

He nodded anyway and she handed the little glass container over to him tentatively. He poured its entire contents onto his palm and polluted himself with the drugs. He took in a sharp breath as they started to take over his system. A breath that seemed too cold, too abrupt. He twitched his head in Claire's direction once again. He smiled.

The madness that had been creeping over him was gone. He hadn't even realized it had been trying to wrap itself around his brain. He thought he was just being horribly negative again. Claire wasn't to worry about now. He wondered if his hypothesis about her transferring a little of her brain power over to him each time she came here was correct, but that didn't matter at the moment. He wasn't going to linger on cynical thoughts while he had the clearness and intelligibility from the medicine to his sickness.

"Claire, come. We have things to do," he said lightly, walking over to the table where all of his science instruments sat, waiting to be used for a clever experiment. He had obviously startled Claire at how quickly his mood had changed, but she should know the effects of the crystals by now.

"What kind of things?" she asked, glad he was returning.

"Just things."

#

That's how it was between the two of them. Never a straight answer. Him always leaving Claire guessing. Still being mysterious. Yet always curious. And Claire, always following a few steps behind. Of course, until Bishop came. That was when things started getting complicated…