Home late again from another boring day. Lately everything seems the same, all shades of grey. She taps her foot, waiting for the subway to come but knowing that it's always sporadic this time of night. It's the end of the week and most of the people disembarking from the other train going in the wrong direction are heading into town for drinks, dancing and various mating games. All she wants to do is get home. She looks at the board again, the timestamp glowing in yellow orange dots: 2 minutes until the next train.

Tired of reading or listening to her iPod to block the world out, she turns and walks over to one of the marble benches in the middle of the platform. The day has been hot; sweltering at times. She's grateful that she spent most of the day in an office building, even if the air conditioning always seems to be set to one extreme or the other - 60 or 80. The night air above is moist, and it's settled on her skin like sticky dew. The air in the tunnels is slightly less warm, but equally as damp. Summer in D.C. It's cloying and difficult to breathe without effort, but that doesn't seem to stop everybody else from going out and enjoying themselves.

Only she, it seems, is unable to bear the air quality; the heat. Sweat trickles across her brow, tickling, and she moves to wipe it away with a frown.

"What I wouldn't do for a portable air conditioner." she grumbles to no one in particular, placing her backpack next to her. "Or a fan."

The items in it are pretty much useless for combatting the heat. A remarkably heavy biology textbook, a small laptop and several pens and pencils. Even the notebook she has is floppy, and would make a poor fan. When the train finally arrives she breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that most of the cars are air conditioned. The doors open and she steps into the cool breeze, thanking the various gods of cool air and divine providence that something in this wretched city actually works the way it should.

She's lived in and around this area for most of her life, always dreaming of a life beyond - a life three thousand miles away. Northern California. Someday, she thinks, someday I'll actually pull myself out of this swamp and move across the country to where I truly need to be. If only. It's been a dream that's persisted for so long; too long, she thinks at times.

Unmarried and with no children, she likes it that way - she wishes that she could live more like a vagabond, living life from day to day instead of being caught up in the monotany that a regular job and bills brings. She remembers a friend from a time that seems so long ago, somebody she met in another country far away. The tales of their travels excite her and she wishes that she could be that person; that she could take that first step away from what she should do, and finally make the road meet her feet where she wants it to.

She settles in the seat, taking a moment to look around at her fellow passengers. Anything could happen on this trip home, she thinks to herself as she imagines it. The train could wreck in one of the underground tunnels; forcing everybody to evacuate and make their way to the surface. An earnest vigilante could chase a criminal from one car to another, knocking several people over as they proceed to fight right there in the middle of the car. The nation's capitol could find itself under attack as the trainload of passengers pause with fearful breath as they await the outcome. Somebody could attack her, bringing out a frenzied response as she breaks his leg and cracks several of his ribs.

Most of her thoughts have always been violent for some reason that she can't quite understand. She never really has. It's something that she shares with only several other people that she's run across in her lifetime. Some of the people that she's talked with brag; they're all flash - but it's the ones who've been 'in the shit', as the saying goes, that really quicken her blood. Petty scuffles and skirmishes aren't what excite her. Armageddon. World War. Raging against the machine of the enemy; that's what stirs her soul.

Her body has never been strong enough to join that conflict; that one single moment where body and soul unite against a common enemy; working in effortless synchonicity. She has always had issues with breathing, and as she gets older, her joints seem to want to give out rather than wanting to work properly. She feels like an old soldier that has never had the chance to fight; never engaged with a force that needed defeating. It's a cold emptiness that resonates in her bones. A quiet longing. A sorrow of sorts.

She sighs and stares at the map of the trainsystem on the wall across from her. The same old destinations, same 'places of interest'; although very few of them hold any interest for her now. This city feels dead for her and has for years now. She feels grey and unaccomplished, although there are many who look at the fullness of her life and see her as having lived in an exciting flash of everpresent light. She can't see it and hasn't been able to feel much for what seems like a very long time.

"Find joy in the simplicity of life, and there will be prosperity in your soul." she remembers a voice from long ago; a reading given to her by a good friend.

At times, she's able to do just that; listening to a burbling creek as the water gently buffets the stones in its path, listening to the trees creak as they sway gently in the summer night. The pleasure gained from a wild animal brave enough to creep up and touch her shoe, to take food from her hand. There is majesty in this also, but she wants so much more.

There is a dark part of her that wants to be let out, to play among the living; but she's well aware that if she ever released it, there'd be no turning back. No taking it back. It squats in her psyche, waiting for the chance to be free; for the chance to truly run and live, but she keeps it well chained and thus her passion slowly dies. There has been no release for her inner passion for many years now and with this quashing of need, of desire, it's slowly twisting into something else. Bitterness. Anger. Disgust. She hides the emotions well, but there are some who see; some who walk on the other side of the street to avoid her, harmless as she may initially appear. And there are those who bow to her as well; the vagrants in the alleyways. As yellow streams of acrid urine trail down the walls, they look at her and bow, still pissing. They see her, when no-one else can.

The train slows as it hits the next stop, and she watches several passengers as they exit; their expressions tired and vague. Do they feel the same? she wonders as the recorded voice echoes through the car, stating that the doors are closing. She takes another deep breath, then starts at the sound of the doors opening as a tall figure pushes his way into the car. The doors close behind him, and she rolls her eyes. Some asshole's always gotta force it. He can't just wait for the next train. she mutters in her thoughts, dismissing it as she goes back to looking at the railmap.

She hears the thunk of shoes on the carpeted metal flooring as the person makes their way towards her, and she wonders if this is the night; if this is event that will change her life. It never is, though. She looks over, out of the corner of her eye, and sees that the man; yeah, it's most definitely a man, is still moving toward her side of the car. He's dressed like a stockbroker, black briefcase in hand. He looks very official. She can't help but notice that he's well groomed as she bows her head, looking over at him through hooded eyes now as he takes the seat across from her. Self important prick, she muses to herself. She knows the type. Power brokers and go getters, so-called alpha males that want to play in the shark tank of business, but if they'd ever had a gun placed to their head they would piss their pants in terror. She smiles a little secretive smile, feeling smug and self assured.

He's what society in general would consider almost painfully attractive, but his appearance repulses her. Or - she wants it to. Another should to add to the long list of shoulds. She looks away, anywhere but at him - at this man who thinks he can walk where he wants and take what he wants because he has money. But then, if he had money, why is he on the Metro at 11 o'clock at night?

She hears a chuckle, and she looks over to find him staring back at her, a curious glint in his eyes.

His cornflower blue eyes.

He smiles at her then, warmly, and her eyes dart away, checking out the connecting door at the end of the train. Slowly, unable to stop herself, her eyes slide back to look at him, and she gives him a sidelong glance. His smile grows wider and he leans back into his seat; confident and sure of himself. He knows he's good looking and is using it to fuck with me. Asshole. Her eyes narrow as she drops all pretense, glaring back at him. He's grinning now, and raises an eyebrow in silent query.

"What?" she growls, angry that she'd broken the silence first.

His voice is pleasant enough as he leans forward and quietly says, "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?"

She grits her teeth, not liking that she's so transparent. Not wanting to admit it.

He chuckles again, this time a little louder. "It's not so easy, placing labels on people, you know. Yours nearly chokes out who you really are entirely."

At this, her eyes grow wide and she looks away from him, flushing. Her eyes again creep back to him, and he cocks his head a little as he catches her gaze.

"Tell you what," he offers, slowly pulling his steel grey tie down and away from his neck and unbuttoning the first button of his starched white shirt. "I'll drop mine if you drop yours."

Her tongue quickly darts out to moisten her lips, her pulse quickening as she clutches her backpack tighter. There's definitely something different about him, but she can't quite put her finger on it. The train begins slowing for another stop, and her breath catches. She looks at the sign outside, seeing that the next train will be ten minutes behind this one.

The man leans forward, his voice growing low as he murmurs, "Think of it as going through the Looking Glass. You'll never know until you take that first step."

She looks back at him, shocked. His smile holds something else behind his eyes now as he extends a hand out to her. She remembers a chilling line from one of her favorite faerietales as she looks back at his hand, trembling now.

Be bold, be bold
But not too bold
Or else your life's blood might run cold.

Something momentous is just around the corner, she can feel it in her blood. She could either run from it, as well as her fears about herself and her own personal bullshit, or she could take that tentative step forward and grasp his hand, hoping that it would lead her somewhere that would take the grey away. She takes a quick, deep breath in; forcing it out as her hand darts out and slaps into his.

He presents her with a dazzling smile, his blue eyes dancing as he breathes, "And thus it begins.”

__________________

The world warps around her and she feels a vague pressure in her head, a disorientation that lasts for just a moment before a warm liquid THUMP ripples through the air, setting her senses tingling. She has a moment to notice that her legs don't ache anymore before she realizes that they no longer seem to be on the train. She finds herself standing in what looks like a moonlit arboretum. She blinks rapidly, pulling her hand away from his and looking at it, checking it over to make sure that it's still attached. There is a strong tingling sensation in her fingers that is slowly dying down, and she clutches her hand into a brief fist several times to try to get some feeling back into it. Her breath is coming in hitches and she realizes that she's now having a full blown panic attack; hyperventilation, dizziness, heart hammering as if it intends to batter its way out of her chest - the works.

“Shit.” she hears the man exclaim as he quickly opens his briefcase, pulling out a paper bag and helping her hold it over her mouth. She looks up at him with wild eyes as she struggles to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. An arm wraps around her shoulders and she leans into him, her knees suddenly buckling. The fearful tears that always came during these attacks are now trailing down her face and she blinks to get them out of her eyes so that she could see. His expression is concerned as he peers back at her, still holding her.

“Breathe. It’s okay. Just relax.” The sound of his voice is smooth, soothing. Her breathing is slowly becoming more regular as she looks around. It's beautiful. Dirt paths wind through thick underbrush, and she can hear the sounds of strange birds calling out to each other. Lanterns are lighting the way, throwing a flickering golden glow over everything, and she begins to laugh a little as she realizes that it's now hot and moist again. One climate changed for another, both almost exactly the same. She can't escape it.

He gently takes the bag from her lips and smiles, chagrinned. “Sorry about that. I keep forgetting that Wights aren’t used to the trip.”

She frowns back at him, asking, “Whites? Do you mean caucasians?”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he helps her to her feet. “Wights are..well, it’s a really old word for human.”

She lets out a weak laugh and wobbles on her feet. “What, are you saying that you’re not human?”

He pulls his tie off, undoing the knot and smoothing it out before placing it into his briefcase. “Bing. Got it in one.”

She gapes at him, then begins laughing. “Alrighty then. Good thing to know up front.”

He can hear the disbelief in her voice as he begins unbuttoning his shirt. It doesn't matter. He is what he is, whether she believes him or not. “Suit yourself. Think what you like.” He smiles as he removes his suit jacket, folding it neatly before depositing it inside.

She takes a step back as he pulls the starched shirt out of his pants and begins stripping out of it, revealing a very nicely muscled torso that is almost covered with strange symbols in black ink.

“What in the world are you doing?” she stammers.

He folds the shirt up, raising an eyebrow and murmuring, “Well, I’dve thought that was obvious.”

She clutches her backpack in front of her, taking another step back. Sure, he's cute, but she was hardly ready to jump into sex with a strange man that she’d just met on the Metro. The wierdness of suddenly being teleported to somewhere else - instantly, she could handle, but something this casually sexual? For some reason, that was a stretch.

She watches him shuck his shoes off and unbutton his pants, and she quickly averts her eyes before he lets them drop down around his ankles. She's trembling as she waits for him to finish, hoping desperately that he´ll put something else on.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as being particularly shy." he says as he places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She closes her eyes and digs her fingers into the backpack, not wanting to give up her control over the situation, even though it's gone far beyond that by now. Here she was, standing in an entirely alien environment, not at all aware of where she was - but for some reason the illusion of having some kind - any kind - of control was reassuring.

He gently spins her around, murmuring, "What are you so afraid of?"

She slowly opensher eyes, startled to find him so close. His entire appearance has changed, his blue eyes glittering with amusement and his inky black hair falling over his brow in sharp points. He smiles and lets his hand drop, taking a step away from her so that she can look at him. He has a good, solid face; but now that she has a chance to truly look at him, he looks far too attractive to be straight. Full lips, high cheekbones; everything about his face was almost overly sensual. Her eyes widen as she suddenly notices the large black wings that stretch about a foot over his head.

"What are you?" she whispers as she gently places her backpack on the floor. Her gaze trails down his body, relieved to see that he's now wearing a black kilt with what looked like a pair of beaten up combat boots.

His wings gently flap twice before retracting and settling against his back, and the air suddenly has a sharp, spicy tang to it that sets her senses tingling.

"I am one of the Rephaim. One of the last of my kind." He takes a step towards her slowly as her eyes flicker over the multiple designs all over his body. "Not everything, or everyone, is as they seem." he murmurs as he steps up to her, heat flickering in the depths of his blue eyes. "You cannot force people into categories, then become irritated when they do the same to you."

A flush creeps into her face and she opens her mouth to reply, annoyed now. He steps forward and trails his fingers softly down her jawline, startling her into silence again. "I am not saying this to shame you. It's just the way it is."

She feels a warmth trail along her skin where his fingers touch, almost a fluttering. Her voice cracks as she asks, "What are you doing?"

He smiles again, running his thumb gently along her lower lip, his voice a sensuous purr as he replies, "You're not too good at the obvious, are you?" He leans in and kisses her then, his lips gently brushing against hers. She stiffens, then shivers as she feels him suck her lower lip into his mouth.

He slowly pulls away, still smiling, and her heart is hammering in her chest as his fingers lightly brush against her throat, sliding down to trail along the line of her blouse. "I d-don't.." she stammers as he slides a hand up into her hair, gently squeezing.

"You don't..?" he asked, leaning in and letting his lips brush against the skin at her collar bone, pulling her blouse over her shoulder and following it with feather-light kisses.

Come to think of it, what exactly was it that she didn't do again? When was the last time she'd found herself in this kind of situation? She'd be damned if she could remember. She usually wanted to wait until there was a possibility of a relationship before coming anywhere close to this kind of intimate contact. He was pulling feelings and sensations from her that she couldn't remember having before. Again, she could either choose to run away from it and wonder what might have happened, or just go with it and see where it lead. Such things had never really been easy with her, and she struggles with this while she tries to figure out what she wants to do.

She lets out a disappointed sigh as she feels him pull away and look back at her, his expression amused. "You're thinking too much."

"I do that." she murmurs, shivering and not wanting him to stop.

"Then stop." he replies, his expression matter-of-fact.

She looks back at him, puzzled. All the heat seems to have left his eyes, and he's simply looking back at her now. She blinks, unsure of what to say.

"Let me put it another way. What, in this moment, do you want?" he asks, his lips quirking into a grin as he prompts, "The truth."

She looks away from him, not entirely certain if she can say what she truly wants while looking at him. Her voice sounds so small and quiet as she replies, "Passion. Fire." her voice trembles as she finds the strength to look back at him. "I want to burn. To feel."

His eyes dance then, and she can hear the heat in his voice now as he slides his hands over her hips and pulls her close. "Let's see what we can do about that, then."

She cries out as he presses himself against her, his mouth hovering over hers, but not quite touching. She can feel him grinning as he quickly kisses the corner of her mouth. He slowly moves to the hollow just under her ear and purrs, "I'll make you burn, lovely. But you'll have to beg me to bring you release."

She can feel the well contained control in his momements as his fingers slowly slide up her hips, pulling her shirt out of her pants. He smiles against her neck, chuckling softly as his tongue darts out to taste her. She shudders as one of his hands moves beneath her blouse, giving her ribcage a gentle squeeze as he pulls away and commands, "Take it off."

Her fingers tremble as she tries to undo the buttons and he clasps her hands in his and softly says, "This is going to happen. It doesn't matter how long it takes. Relax. Breathe easy."

She fights to control her breathing which she just now realizes is verging on hyperventilation again. He gently strokes her knuckles, his voice soft as he brushes his lips against her cheek, asking, "How long has it been since you last felt the touch of a man's hands?"

Her eyelids flutter closed. She doesn't want to think about it. "Years." she replies, her eyes snapping back open to look at him.

He gently takes her hands away from her blouse and begins undoing the buttons himself. "There is a brazen spirit in you, but it has gone cold and uncertain after so many years of disuse."

She replies with a weak laugh as he slips the blouse off her shoulders, folding it up and turning to place it in the suitcase behind him. "What are you doing?" she asks, and he looks back at her, grinning.

"Taking your mask from you." he replies, kneeling before her now. His wings flare out to the sides so that the tips won't touch the ground as his hands slowly trail up her legs. "Bringing your phoenix out."

She trembles as his thumbs slide along the inseam of her pants. As his thumbs meet, he presses them into her and an electric jolt shakes her, drawing a hiss from her lips as he purrs, "I see you."

He gently trails the crook of a finger along the seam in her crotch and she delights in the sensation as he cups her with his hand. Even with the fabric between them, his hands are hot and clever and she cries out, fisting her hands at her sides.

She watches as his fingers creep up to her zipper, his eyes sparkling with a deep intensity as he draws it down. He slowly, langorously slides her pants down her legs, trailing his hands down to her ankles and letting her step out of them. His hands move back up her body as he stands, sliding them around to her lower back and pressing against her. She's still just reacting at this point, making no move to touch him of her own volition. He smiles and reaches up to tweak one of her nipples, gently tugging on it as she sighs. He deftly flicks the hooks on her the back of her bra open with his other hand, pulling the cotton away from her skin. He pinches the nipple harder this time as he covers her mouth with his own.

Something inside her snaps and moves to meet his kiss with a furious abandon now. He smiles, hefting her in his arms, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. His mouth is pulling a part of her that has been too long dormant to the surface and she growls as it hits her, nipping at his lip. His fingers tighten against her ass in response as he holds her up, his other hand tightening in her hair.

Oh my god. She's sure that she's never felt anything like this. It's as if her entire body has roared to life in a blaze that threatens to consume her.

"Please.." he hears her whisper, and he exhults - triumphant.

"Please what?" he asks, his tone light and teasing.

She feels the fabric of his kilt between them and her voice becomes husky as she demands, "Take it off. Fuck me."

He chuckles and slides two fingers along her slickness, feeling her breath hitch in response. "What, so soon?"

"Yes, yes, yes." she hisses, her breath hot on his neck.

She moans as his fingers slide into her, gently probing. "Now, now. That's not proper begging." he purrs, moving his other hand down to hold her up while he works a slick finger over her clit. She rocks back in his arms and lets out an unintelligible cry as his clever fingers send hot shivers of ecstacy through her.

She feels his lips on her breast and claws at his shoulders, hissing. He smiles against her skin, pleased with her responses as he leans into her, whispering into her hair, "Do you now burn, lovely?"

Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips and she bites down on her lower lip. Close - god, she was so close. "Yes!" she cries out, her voice dropping to a husky purr as she brings her lips to his ear and replied, "I burn. God, I burn."

He feels her tipping closer to the edge and slides his finger off her clit, thrusting it back into her slickness.

"NO!" she cries out, frustrated now. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

He hefts her higher for a moment, then she slides down and feels him press into her, hot and thick. He takes his time, watching her eyes flutter shut as she engulfs him, savoring the feeling. Does she realize how tight she is? He feels his breath catch in his throat as he fills her, his hips now pressed firmly against her ass. She rocks her head back and shudders as he quickly pulls out, then slams back inside her. His wings began to curl around his shoulders as he begins to pace himself, wanting to draw the sensation out for her.

Spiralling closer to that delicious white hot light of release, she clutches at him, biting into his shoulder as he pushes her closer. Something changes, and the sensation becomes a little too intense. She's been with other people in the past, and has always instinctively scrabbled away from the feeling because the sensation would be too much. She's always fled from mind shattering orgasms before, not wanting to be blown apart by them - and she had always ended up disappointed. Something about it had always scared the hell out of her but she doesn't realize this until now. He bears down on her, forcing her to ride it, his tone hungry and vicious as he growls, "No - this time you'll take it. This time you'll come, whether you like it or not."

It starts to hurt now and she tries to push him away, but he just holds her tighter, his breath heavy with exhertion. As true fear begins to creep in, the tone of his voice changes, becoming softer now. "Ride it to the end, lovely. Trust me."

She shivers at the sound of his voice, and suddenly the feeling changes - no longer painful. There is a moment where she can almost feel the wave as it begins to roll through her, and she screams out as it finally crashes through her synapses, sending the fire she's so desperately needed flooding through her body; burning away the grey. Immolating her pain and despair. He quickly follows, clutching at her and crying out as he stiffens beneath her, his wings wrapping around their bodies as she feels him pour into her. Another loud liquid THUMP resonates in the air and this one feels as if it goes through her very soul.

The last of the flickers of fire curl through her body and she finally opens her eyes, startled to find herself back on the train. The man is seated next to her now, back in his business suit, his briefcase on the floor next to him. She looks down to find him holding her hand. He squeezes it gently.

"Better?" he asks softly.

She looks up to see his eyes dancing, his face still somewhat flushed. She blinks, then gives him a lopsided grin, blushing furiously.

"Better." she replies, giving his hand an answering squeeze. "Come home with me?" she asks, feeling bolder than she has in years.

He presents her with a wicked smile and whispers, "I thought you'd never ask."