BAZ

We're sitting on the ground, facing each other. Still kissing. I took him by the shoulders a little while ago, on either side of his collar, and I can't let go. I don't want to let go.

I'm not sure what I'm doing, after all, I've never done this before. Especially with a boy, not just any boy either, Simon Snow. The Chosen One. The Mage's Heir. I, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, am snogging the Chosen One, my one true love since fifth year.

My heart races, my thoughts going wild. For years all I could think about was Snow. His stupid golden blonde locks and the way they hang over his forehead. Those strikingly blue eyes. Every inch of his face memorized from years of being his roommate, watching him while he slept. The face I thought of during those dreadful nights in the coffin when the numpties caught me. For Crowley's sake, Simon Snow. You mesmerize me.

Snow runs his hands through my hair and clenches his fist in it. Instinctively, I jam my face forward into his and quickly snatch it away.

"Sorry," Simon says. (He's out of breath, I can tell. Truthfully, so am I.)(But I'd never admit that out loud.)

I let go of his jumper - my jumper - and shake my head, my hand pressed to my forehead. "No. It's...Where's your cross?"

I watch as he feels for it on the ground around us, holding it up between us once he finds it.

"Put it back on," I say.

"Why? Are you gonna bite me?"

"No. Have I ever bitten you?"

"No. You've never kissed me before either."

"You kissed me, Snow."

He shrugs. "So? Are you going to bite me?"

I start to get to my feet. "No...i'd just rather think less about it. I need to drink. It's been -" I look around, it's pitch dark. "-too long." I glance back at Snow, quickly looking away. "Look, I have to...hunt. Will you wait?"

"I'll go with you," he says.

"Crowley," I say, "you will not."

He jumps up. "Can it be anything?"

"What?"

"Anything with blood, yeah?"

"What?" I say again, "Yeah,"

He takes my hand. "Call something. There must be hunting spells."

"There are," I say, my eyebrows lowering. "But they only work at close range."

He squeezes my hand. (His stupid godly magic. Bloody hell, just had to fall in love with the CHOSEN ONE, really Basilton?)

I take out my wand, watching Snow. That idiot. Wasting his magic on me. All so I can have a stupid drink.

"Doe!" I say, pointing my wand into the trees. I feel Snow's magic coursing through my body. Feel my magic getting stronger, a mix of his and my own. "A deer!" His magic shimmers in the air around us.

A minute later, a doe steps through the charred branches.

I shiver. "You have to stop doing that."

"What?"

"God-like displays of magic."

"Why?" he says, "It's cool."

"It's terrifying."

He grins at me. "It's cool."

"Don't watch," I say. I don't need him seeing me devour this animal. It's weird. And it might scare him. I walk towards the deer.

I can feel him still watching. I look back at him. "Don't watch," I say again.

SIMON

I watch as Baz leads the doe into the trees until it's too dark for me to see them anymore.

Minutes later, still in the circle of ash, I hear leaves crunching.

Baz's voice calls out, "It's me, Snow."

"You called me Simon before."

I finally see him, relaxing when he lights a flame in his hand. (F*cking pyro.)(Okay, not in his hand - floating above it. He's flammable, that would be bad.)

"No, I didn't," he says.

"You did." (Right before I kissed you.)

"Let's go back to the car," he says. "The neighbors are already going to think we had some kind of dark ritual here."

"I'm not sure we didn't," I say, following him.

When we get to the car, I'm not sure what to say. So, I do the logical thing and say whatever pops into my thick head first.

"You're a vampire," I say finally.

He doesn't answer.

"You really are," I say.

He starts the engine.

"I mean, I knew it - I've known for years. But you really are..." I press a hand to his cheek. "You're warmer now." Not cold, like before.

"It's the blood," He says.

"Would you be heavier? If I lifted you?"

"I imagine. I just emptied a deer." He glances over at me. (He's driving, it would be bad if he turned his entire head. I'd rather not die in a car wreck. Thank you, Baz.) "Don't try."

"How does it work?"

"I don't know...Magic, blood magic. Virus, magickal virus. I don't know."

"How often do you have to drink?"

"Every night, to feel good. Every few nights, to stay sane."

"Have you ever bitten anyone?"

"No. I'm not a murderer."

"Does it have to be fatal every time? The biting? Couldn't you just drink some of a person's blood, then walk away?"

"I can't believe you're asking me this, Snow. You, who can't walk away from half a sandwich."

"So you don't know?"

"I've never tried. I'm not...that. My father would kill me if I touched a person."

A wave of worry crosses Baz's face. "Hey," I say, "don't."

"What?"

"Think. Whatever you're thinking. Stop."

He exhales, clearly frustrated. "Why doesn't this all bother you?"

"What?"

"I'm a vampire."

"Well, it used to bother me," I say. "Back when I thought you were going to drain me dry some night - or turn me into a zombie. But the last few days have been properly educational, haven't they?"

"So now that you know I'm a vampire, for certain, you don't care?"

"Now that I know you just sneak around, drinking household pets and legal game, yeah, I'm not too bothered. It's not like I'm a militant vegetarian."

"And you still don't believe that I'm dead?"

I shake my head once, firmly. "I do not believe you are dead."

We're at his driveway now. Baz turns the car in. "Sunlight burns me," he says.

I shrug. "Me too."

"You're an idiot, Snow."

"You called me Simon before."

"No, I didn't,"

BAZ

I shouldn't let myself be happy about this. It's not like we're going to keep doing this. Snogging. We're enemies. we're supposed to kill each other. It's what everyone expects us to do. It's what Father and the Coven want me to do.

One day Snow and I will have to fight. One of us will die at the hands of the other, that is what will happen. There's no way around it.

I don't know what I'm thinking.

I park the car in the garage, then go into the house through the kitchen door. Quietly. Can't risk waking up Father. "Are you hungry?" I ask.

"Yeah."

I poke around in the refrigerator hoping to find something to eat. I find a casserole dish with shepherd's pie in it. I shove the dish into Snow's arms, then grab forks. "Milk?" I ask, "Coke?"

"Milk," he says. He's grinning. He hasn't stopped grinning.

I put the milk carton on top of the casserole, grab cloth napkins from the drawer, and head up to my room. I hear Show's footsteps, struggling to keep up.

I don't know what I'm thinking.

SIMON

I wish I knew what he was thinking...

BAZ

When we get up to my room, I turn on a lamp. It doesn't give off much light - the shade is a dark red. I sit on the floor at the end of my bed.

Snow takes a seat right next to me. I take the dish from him and cast a quick "You're getting warmer!" - then open the lid.

"Do you need to eat?" Snow asks. "Or do you just like it?"

"I need it," I say, scooping a bite of food into my mouth, avoiding his eyes. "just not as much as other people do."

"How do you know that you're not immortal?"

I hand him a fork. "No more questions."

We finish the shepherd's pie, eating out of the bowl on my lap. I chew with my hand covering my mouth. (My fangs pop when I eat.) Snow finishes the milk. I didn't want any.

When we're done, I set the dishes outside my door, then start a fire in the fireplace with my wand.

Snow crawls over to sit next to me, "You're a pyro," he says.

I shrug, staring into the fire.

"You're not thinking of burning down the house, are you?"

"No, Snow. I don't have a death wish. I wish I did - it would make everything easier."

"Please stop talking like that."

I'm not sure what to say, and then I know. I turn to him, abruptly. "Is that why you kissed me? To keep me from killing myself?"

He shakes his head. "Not exactly. I mean, I did want to keep you from killing yourself."

"Why then?" I ask.

"Why did I kiss you?"

"Yeah"

"I guess I wanted to," he shrugs.

"Since when?"

He shrugs again, it pisses me off. I wedge another log into the fire.

"Did you want me to?" he asks.

(Yes.)"No," I say. "Why would I want that? Why would that thought even occur to me? 'Hey, you know what would fix this miserable situation with the vampires and my mother and the war and the decline of magic? Snogging my half-wit roommate. The one who will probably f*ck my life for good someday. That's a plan.'"

"You don't have to be such a prat," he says. "We're on the same side here."

"For the moment," I say. "You'll help me find out who killed my mother, I'll kill whoever it is, and then you'll make sure I get thrown in a tower for it. You've already won - as soon as you tell the Mage I'm a vampire, he'll pull out my fangs and snap my wand. I end up in the Covent Garden, licking Nicodemus' heels. And that's if I'm lucky."

"Those vampires were in awe of you," he says. "They wanted to put a crown on your head."

"Are you suggesting I cross over?" I'll be stricken from the Book, just like Nicodemus.

"No, I'm just saying, you were amazing today."

"You're not listening to me at all, are you?"

"I am," he says. "But you're wrong. Nothing's going back to normal after this. How could it?"

"Because we're friends now?"

"Because we're more than that."

I pick up a poker and jab at the fire. "One kiss and you think the world is upside down."

"Two kisses," he says. And he takes me by the back of my neck.

SIMON

I don't know what time it is.

The room is losing its darkness; like the sun is fighting its way into the room. We're lying on our backs next to the fire - what's left of it anyway, we were too distracted to tend to it - holding hands.

I sigh and squeeze Baz's hand. He yelps in pain, I frown and hold it up between us. A cross-shaped burn has appeared since last night when he yanked my necklace off. (My cross is on the other side of the room now; I took care of it myself this time.)

I bring his palm to my mouth and kiss it.

"I didn't think you were gay," he says, quietly.

I shrug, I'm not sure what to say.

"What does that mean?" he whispers.

"I don't know," I say, closing my eyes. "I guess I've never thought much about what I am. I got a lot on my plate."

Baz laughs a snorty kind of laugh, like a child. I start laughing with him. "A lot on your plate?" he repeats.

"Are you gay?" I ask, looking over at him, still laughing.

"Yeah," he says. "Completely."

"So you do this all the time?"

He rolls his eyes. "No."

"Then how do you know you're gay?"

"I just do. How do you not know?"

"Dunno," I say. I lace my fingers in his and hold his hand, lazily. "I try not to think."

"About being gay?"

"About anything. I make lists of things not to think about."

"Why?"

"Because," I say, "it hurts to think about things that you can't have or help. S'better not to think about it."

Baz rubs his thumb back and forth on the back of my hand. "Am I on your list?" he asks.

I laugh again and shake my head, "Fat chance." I say, sleepily. "Trying not to think about you...S'like trying not to think about an elephant that's standing on my chest."

"I can't decide whether that's a compliment..." he says, I can sense the smile on his face.

"Me neither," I say.

"So you don't think," he says.

"S'pointless."

I feel him prop himself up next to me, "I don't understand you." he says, looking down at me, "You're the most powerful magician alive - who's ever lived, probably. You can have anything you want. How is it pointless for you to think about that?"

I push myself up onto both my elbows and let my head fall in Baz's direction. "Because it doesn't matter. In the end, I just do what's expected of me. When the Humdrum comes after me, I fight him. When he sends dragons, I kill them. When you trick me into meeting a chimera, I go off. I don't get to choose or plan. I just take it as it comes. And someday, something will catch me unaware are be too big, but I'll fight it anyway. I'll fight until I can't anymore - what is there to think about?"

I drop back onto the floor. Baz reaches out and very gently pushes the curls off my forehead. I close my eyes again.

"I always thought you were going to kill me," he says.

"Me too," I say. "I tried not to think about it."

I feel him twist his fingers in my hair. It feels like pure bliss, Agatha never did this. Is this what real love feels like?

Suddenly I feel Baz's breath near my face, then he ever so slowly kisses my cheek.

"For a long time," he says.

"Hmmm?" I open one eye.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time. Almost since we met..."

I close my eyes again and try to suppress a smile.

"I thought it was going to kill me," he says.

"Lady hath stumbled on this midnight dreary, with pallor frightfully pale and weary," Raven exclaimed, his voice somber and melodic.

Looking bad at him, I said, "Duly noted, my feather friend. Are you sure we haven't some sal-volatile in there?"

"I know nothing of your hoped-for salt, though with your plan I find a fault. To keep her from awaking groggy, 'twould be most prudent to make her soggy."

With a thump, Raven dropped a bucket of sloshing water beside the beautiful maiden which lay before us, unconscious.

"No, Raven, we are not throwing a bucket of water on her. Keep looking. Haven't we a ham sandwich? Or some hay? That always worked on the King." I told him, a hint of annoyance in my voice.

I rummaged through my hat hoping to find something of use. Glass marbles? Nope. A wind-up monkey? No. Handkerchiefs? Don't think so. An empty inkwell? Not sure that is of much use in any situation anymore. Mismatched buttons? Perfect for Hatta, but not for this. A two-wheeled velocipede? Heavens, no. My silver flute? Not useful either.

Something on the ground caught my eye. I sighed, "You know what? Nevermind, we'll use this."

I picked up a delicate white rose and walked over to the unconscious maiden. Very gently, I touched the rose to the tip of her nose and softly moved it back and forth to tickle her.

"Aha, it's working!"

I watched as she wrinkled her nose, her eyelids beginning to squint open. Looking upon her, she must have been the most beautiful maiden on this side of the Looking Glass. Just wondrously exquisite!

"Hello," I lifted the soft petaled rose away from her face. "Are you alright?"

"Nevermore," said Raven, still perched on the bucket of water.

I glared at him, "Don't be rude."

"Tisn't rude to rebuke an arbitrary greeting, a nonsense question upon first meeting. To be all right implies an impossible phase. We hope for being mostly right on the best of our days."

"Exactly," I told him. "Rude."

Raven made a noise as if to scoff at me. Spreading his wings, he leaped up into the air and settled on the highest branch of the rose tree.

My attention turned back towards the maiden. She looked beautiful; had I mentioned that already? I can't quite remember. Oh heavens, she looked breathtakingly stunning. She wore a red velvet dress, a bit odd seeing as everyone else at this ball was in black or white. After all, it was one of the King's famous black-and-white balls.

I gave her a friendly smile, "I'm glad the rose worked." I said, twirling it in my fingers. "I suspect this would be a different sort of meeting had we been forced to use the water bucket."

She blinked, a blank expression on her face. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "You,"

"Me," I agreed. I cocked my head to the side, frowning. "In all seriousness, my lady, are you..." I hesitated, "...mostly right?"

She continued to stare, eyes wide. Perhaps she didn't hear me?

"My lady?" I set the rose aside and touched my hand to her brow. "Can you hear me? You're very warm."

Again, she stared. "Perhaps I should call for a Sturgeon..."

"No, I'm fine. I'm all right." She grabbed my hand before I could pull away. I froze. 

"Though, I can't feel my legs." She confessed.

My lips twisted to one side. "Mostly right, after all. Let's not tell Raven he was correct or he'll be insufferable the rest of the night." I glanced down at her legs. "I can almost guarantee that your legs are still attached, though there is an awful lot of fabric disguising them. I'll go searching for them now if you'd like me to."

The lady laughed. "That's quite generous, but I'll go searching for them myself, thank you. Can you help me sit?"

Holding her hand, I wrapped my free arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her upward. With a quick pat, the lady confirmed her legs were indeed still attached.

Still holding her hand I began to massage her fingers. "You're hands are like icicles." I worked from her knuckles, across her palm, and along her wrist. "You'll feel better when your blood is flowing again."

Even with her cold hands, I couldn't help but feel the warmth radiating from her. Something in my bones told me she was the one. She was who I came in search of on this side of the Looking Glass. She would be the one to save Chess.

"Are you a doctor?" She asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I looked up at her and smiled. "I'm a joker, my lady, which is even better."

"How is that better than a doctor?"

"Haven't you heard that laughter is the best medicine?"

Shaking her head she said, "If that's so, shouldn't you be telling me a joke?"

"As the lady pleases. How did the joker warm up some hands?"

She shut one eye, as if to consider the question, though she quickly gave up. "I don't know. How?"

"By being a warm, handsome joker, indeed."

Her laugh came unexpected, followed by the unladylike snort that was sure to get her scolded by anyone of nobility. She quickly pulled her hand away from me to cover her nose, no doubt embarrassed.

Oh heavens! Her laugh! Absolute perfection! My, what it takes to get someone to laugh like that. I couldn't believe my ears. I would give anything to hear it again...

"Can it be! A real-life lady with a laugh like that! I believed you were naught but mythological creatures. Please, do it again." I could feel my face light up with excitement.

"I will not!" she exclaimed, her face red with embarrassment. "Stop it. The joke wasn't even that funny, and now I'm all poked up."

I schooled my face, though I knew my eyes still danced with excitement. "I meant no offense. A laugh like that is richer than gold to a man of my position. I'll make it my life's work to hear the sound again. Every day, if it pleases you. No - twice a day, and at least once before breakfast. A royal joker must set the highest of expectations."

She looked at me, a shocked expression on her face. Her face blushed.

I released her hand, sheepishly, "That is... you are the one, aren't you?"

"The one?" she stared at me, her eyes euphoric.

"The future Queen of Hearts?" Surely she must be the one...right?

The light in her eyes vanished. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, you needn't beg." Doubt crept across my brow. Perhaps I was wrong? "Perhaps I should apologize? I didn't mean to be forward. It's just that the King intended to ask for a lady's hand in marriage during tonight's ball, and...with your gown, I suppose I'd assumed..."

She looked down at her hands, "Did he say which girl he intended to ask?"

"No, my lady. I only know it was to be a daughter of a lord, though that hardly narrows down the list." I leaned back on my hands. "What were you running from before?"

"Running from?" she smiled, though it seemed forced. "I was only wanting some fresh air. The ballroom can get so warm on nights like this."

"The King hadn't yet made his announcement when you left?" I asked, my concern growing.

"I've heard nothing of it." She glanced back at the castle.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Maybe it is you, then. Perhaps I should escort you back..."

"No! No. Um..." She laughed uncomfortably. "I'm sure he meant to ask someone else. His Majesty has never shown me any particular interest."

"I find that difficult to imagine," I said. She's probably captured the heart of every gentleman she's come across. She's just so wondrously beautiful.

"It's the truth." She cleared her throat. "This might be a peculiar question, Mr. ...er, Joker..."

"Jest. My name is Jest, my lady."

"Ah - I'm Catherine Pinkerton."

"It's been a rightmost pleasure, Lady Pinkerton. What was your question?"

I watched as she fluffed the voluminous red gown surrounding her legs.

"Have you and I met before?" she asked.

"Before tonight?" I cupped my chin in my hand, "It seems unlikely."

Her lips pursed, "I thought so as well."

"Do I seem familiar?" I smiled, my dimples making an appearance.

"In a way. Most peculiarly, I do believe I dreamed about you."

"About me?" I asked, my eyebrows raised in shock.

"It is strange, isn't it?"

"Quite," I said, almost whispering. "Perhaps we know each other in the future and you're only remembering backward."

This was something that happened quite a lot in Chess. People remembered backward because of how different time works there. Perhaps this was the case with Lady Pinkerton.

"So?" I prodded.

She blinked, "So what?"

"Was it a good dream?" I teased, fighting a smile.

"Oh," I watched as her lips puckered in thought before she quickly realized I was only teasing. She scowled at me, "To be frank, I found it rather dull."

"Ah, but you can't be Frank. You've already told me your name is Catherine."

"I've changed it."

I laughed, "At least the memory of this dream has brought some color back to your cheeks. You were white as a dove when you fainted. I'm sorry if Raven frightened you."

"No, it wasn't Raven. It was...I thought I saw...nothing." she said, a scowl still on her face.

"I see nothing all the time."

"As I said before, it was very warm inside, that's all. And I've barely eaten all day."

"No doubt the corset of tortures didn't help."

Her scowl deepened. "A lady's undergarments are not a suitable topic of conversation."

I raised my hands in surrender, "Only a theory, my lady. I'm sure your lack of sustenance is much more the culprit. Here." I reached into the pouch on my belt and found a bit of chocolate I had been saving. "I was saving this for later, and so I must have been saving it for you."

"Oh no, I couldn't. I'm still a little faint. It will probably make me sick."

"Some say it is better to have eaten and lost than to never have eaten at all."

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"In case you do get sick and the sweet makes its way up again," I explained.

"That's horrible."

"I know, I should apologize." I held the sweet closer to her, "I must insist that you eat, regardless of the risk. Should you faint again while under my care, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop Raven from using that bucket."

Catherine shook her head, placing a palm against her stomach.

"Please, take it." I pressed.

"Is it from the feasting table?" she asked.

"The King's own," I told her.

She took the chocolate, hesitantly, from my hand. I could hear her murmur her thanks, before biting down on the chocolate. Within seconds she devoured the rest, satisfied.

"Better?" I asked.

"Much." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well enough to stand, I think. Could you help me?"

I was up on my feet before she could finish asking, "Shall I escort you back to the ball?" I asked, lifting her to her feet.

"No, thank you." She brushed off her gown, "I'm very tired. I think I'll call for a carriage to take me home."

"This way then,"

I grabbed my hat from off the ground where I had left it and settled it back atop my head. I turned my head up and whistled into the branches. "Raven, would you mind...?"

Raven cocked his head and peered down through the branches, watching us with a single pitch-black eye. "I thought perhaps you had forgotten your companion in the dark, downtrodden."

I squinted up at him, "Is that a yes?"

The bird sighed, "Fine, I'm going." He swooped off his perch and disappeared into the night sky.

I offered Catherine my arm and she slipped her fingers into the crook of my elbow. Her hands were now warmed up again and had stopped shaking.

We passed through the garden's arches; the rose bushes being left behind, replaced with green hedges towering over us. Lightning bugs shone brightly, illuminating the night's darkness.

"I hope you'll understand if I ask for your discretion," she said. "This has been a most unusual encounter for me."

"Far be it for me to intrude upon a lady's untarnished reputation. But to be clear, which part of our encounter should remain undisclosed?" I watched her from the corner of my eye, "The part when you fainted in the grass and I heroically revived you? The part where we took an unchaperoned stroll through the gardens?" I clicked my tongue in mock disapproval. "Or perhaps the part where you confessed to having had a dream about me, and that I must be a scoundrel to hope it wasn't as boring as you've suggested?"

She leaned against my arm, "All of the above?"

I brought my free hand to her fingers, patting them gently. "It will be my greatest pleasure to be secretive together, my lady."

We hopped over the guard gryphon's tail - he was still sleeping, as I had seen him that morning, against the garden's gate. His snores followed us halfway across the lawn.

"So long as we're sharing secrets," she said, "May I ask how you did it? The trick with Mr. Rabbit?"

"What trick?"

"You know. When you pulled him out of Jack's hat."

I frowned, feigning mild concern. "Sweetest Lady Pinkerton, I fear you've gone mad in this short time we've known each other."

She peered up at me, "Have I?"

"To imagine that I pulled a rabbit out of a hat?" I stooped closer to her, my forehead dangerously close to hers, and whispered, "That would be impossible."

Her expression morphed into something equally devious. "As it so happens, Mr. Jest, I've sometimes come to believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

My feet stalled all at once, turning my head to her, bewildered. She must be the one, surely she is. I've heard the White Queen say that. This lady, she is the one who's heart I came to steal. No matter how much she denies the King's love for her.

Catherine's grin fell. "What is it?"

My eyes narrowed, studying her closely.

She cowered beneath my inspection of her, "What?"

"Are you sure you aren't the one the King is in love with?"

After a couple moments, she laughed, honest and unforced. "I assure you, he's not," she said, still smiling. "What does that have to do with impossible things?"

"It just seems like a queenly sort of thing to say," I said, offering her my arm again. She took it, though hesitantly this time. "And well, impossible is my specialty."

She peered up and me, studying my face. "That," she said, "seems entirely believable."

I smiled, "I'm flattered you think so, Lady Pinkerton."