If Lynne hadn't started counteracting the silver he'd never have made it to the Refuge.  If Tabitha hadn't been there when Lynne arrived he wouldn't have had a chance.   And, as it was, Tabitha realized, plunging into him even before she reached his side, flipping a synapse to send him into unconsciousness, saving his eye sight, saving his face even, was going to be tricky.  But all that was moot until she swept the silver out of his body and got fresh blood into him. 

Tabitha merged with him, taking over from his heart and lungs, joining herself to him mentally, all energy -- heat and light -- examining him while a small part of her made her other needs known.  She sent for Doni and Stephen.  She *told* Thea to get him blood, by mouth and by transfusion.  And she showed Lynne how to work on the outside of him, bathing every part of him to remove the remaining nitrate.  She also showed her what to do when she started pushing the silver in his skin, his organs and blood stream, and tissues, out of him, through his pores.

He was already horrifically burned, the poison seeping through his skin where it had been splashed, where it had filtered through his clothes and then eating its way into him.  He was saturated with it.  And when she pushed it out through his skin it would just burn him again if Lynne didn't stop it from happening. 

Once she was sure Lynne understood Tabitha let go of all awareness.  Nothing existed but Carmine, not even her own consciousness, not even her body.  Then she began to go through every cell in his body, one by one, ridding it of the poison.  It was grueling, painstaking work and she couldn't afford to miss any of it.  Even the most minute particle, if left inside of him, would eventually burn him from the inside out.

-----------

The agony had been so intense Carmine had drawn what thought he had leftover besides the pain into a tiny little place in his mind. He built a fortress around it, and hid there, hid there from the agony that was his body, his very cells mind-numbing in their outcry.

A piece of him sensed Lynne's efforts and then registered Tabitha's entry into his very fibre. He sensed it but it felt as if it had nothing to do with him.

He drifted on a sea of memories, memories which began hundreds of years ago, memories of losses and pain, of joys and successes, of betrayals and the amazing loyalties of his friends. He drifted amongst them, seeing them all as he began to shut himself down, complete, exhausted, relieved that it was over.

Then Tabitha shut it all down and thankfully it was just blackness and no consciousness at all.

-----------------

Sybilla watched the night sky, the stars glittering like the tears she'd never shed for herself, that she'd keep locked away inside and wondered why she bothered any more.  A remnant of the ancient world, forgotten like all the pantheons, swallowed up in the tidal wave unleashed by the Christian God...a God whose appearance she'd prophesied...A remnant, that's all she and her sisters were.  They'd held on, unlike many of the ancient gods, but then they did not require worship to feed their power because they weren't gods. 

But what she couldn't understand anymore was why it had been so important that they did hang on.  Or why she'd even cared.  In this age she no longer spoke the words of prophecy that came to her.  She'd made a vow to herself, witnessed by her cousins, the Fates, that she would never do such a thing again.  And here she was, doing something even worse.  She was meddling.  In the face of a compulsion she couldn't resist, whose source she was unable to find, nor even to find anyone who could remove it -- and she'd tried, dear god, she'd tried -- she was meddling. 

She'd found him, the Vampire Prince of Italy, just as she'd known she would and she'd given him the artwork, including the one piece hidden amongst it that had the power to compel her to break her vow, to restore the books of prophecy and to speak aloud the things she saw.  But she'd done more than that.  She'd bound them together for so long as time existed and into what came after time. 

She'd usurped the rights of her cousins when she'd entwined one of his life threads and one of hers together.  An unimaginable thing, taking to herself one of the privileges of the Fates.  She'd been somewhat surprised, in a detached sort of way, that she hadn't been struck dead when she'd done it.  But then, killing her would unravel the fabric of time itself, just like killing any of her sisters.  So it was quite likely they were planning some other, inconceivably worse punishment for her presumption.

She sighed and shifted into fog, a trailing wisp of vapor and let the air lift her aloft.  She had a long trip home.  She drifted with the jet stream, letting it take her out over the Atlantic, letting the vapor shape subdue her thoughts, end her endless speculation and questions.  In this one shape she was protected from what joined her to time, from the connections that made her able to see and speak the future.  It was why she spent so much time as vapor.

-------------

He had no idea how long it had been he'd been in limbo, with no thought, no life, no worries. As he surfaced a bit, still deep in his cocoon guarded against the pain and misery of his existence, thought began to return gradually.

He guessed they'd brought him to the Refuge, since he'd recognized Tabitha's mind in his. She was there still, as were others. Lynne for one. Still here. They all fought to drag him back to his life, such as it was. But he was tired, so tired. And the blackness called to him, a siren much like the woman he'd met so recently. Blackness. He found a trail of it, off away from himself, off into some unknown pathway, some unremarked bit of something he'd never seen before. He followed it, hoping it was a final escape.

---------------

Sybilla scattered herself among the water droplets of the clouds, wishing being vapor turned off her mind like it turned off her connection to the fabric of time.  It didn't and even worse she couldn't control the object of her thoughts.  That kiss, too short, too sweet, too powerful, too compelling, too absolutely perfect and absolutely certain to never be repeated.  Had she forced the blood binding onto him to instigate the kiss?  She had not a clue.  Had she hoped the kiss would tempt him into something more?  Who knew?  She certainly didn't.

She let herself feel again, for just a moment, his arms around her, hard as steel, holding her so close to him she had wondered if he'd merged their cells like she'd merged the life thread.  Oh gods, she was a fool.  She should forget him, wipe him out of her mind and senses and go back to her life.  And she would, she promised herself, as soon as she got home.  But for now, just for now, just this once she was going to give in...remember, re-feel, fantasize...

She shaped him in her mind, looking at him, and behind him at the twined threads that joined them.  She could see the length of it, how it reached back to him, quivering with life.  She focused on it, touching it ever so gently, not trying to connect with him, just to get a sense of him.  She laid a finger tip on it and opened herself up to it completely, every part of her and almost screamed.

He was dying!  He wanted to die.  He was welcoming death.  She sent her rejection of it flying along the connection between them and slammed into the pain.  A pain so profound, so agonizing it made her reel.  She was scalded by it, driven back and gladly so, wanting no part of that inferno.  She'd made her peace with pain long ago, she bore it daily, living with the little razor teeth that bit and shredded.  But this was beyond even that.  She couldn't, she wouldn't expose herself to it.

She couldn't.  Who was he to her anyway?

She had no idea.  But she realized, in spite of her determination to flee, to cut herself off from his agony she wasn't doing that.  She was standing there, bracing herself against it, absorbing it so that she could search through it and find him.  Everything rational and understandable, everything intelligent and thoughtful was screaming at her to stop, to get out before the pain devoured her.  But some other part of her, some part more powerful had taken over and she was traveling along the threads that linked them, into the heart of his pain, to where he was.

She could hear herself screaming, endless silent screams as she followed the link.  He'd already let go, already found an exit way and had moved through it.  She began to hurry, pleading with the Fates, with Atropos to stay her hand on the scissors, with Clotho to keep her distaff moving, to keep spinning his life into existence, begging Lachesis to lengthen her measuring rod, to allot him more time.

She was weeping, almost mindless in her fear for him, her terror that she was too late.  She couldn't be too late, she wouldn't let it be to late.  She swore it to herself as she raced after him, following him out of this existence and into the place between it and the next, the waiting place, the way station.

If she had to she'd follow him into the netherworld, she'd barter everything she had with Hades for his soul.  She'd do that and more.  She swore it, on her soul and the soul of time.  She swore it, hurling her vow at her cousins, blinded by her tears, following by her sense of him and not by sight.

She entered the place between, and saw him, far ahead of her, almost to the gate, the crossing over place, the bridge to the place of disposition, where Hades and the Justice Nymphs judged each soul.  She forced herself to move faster, screaming his name, trying to stop him before it was too late, willing him to hear her.  She stopped pleading for him and began pleading with him, begging him to slow down, to just wait for her.

--------------

He'd realized he'd almost reached the end and began to hurry toward it, relief was in sight. An end, one he'd wanted for centuries. No more responsibilities, no more guilt eating away at his soul - if he still had one. No more loneliness, no more grief, no more watching those he cared for die. No more...

He paused, hearing his name, from a mind he did not recognize. He turned before he took the last step to say good bye.

-------------

The place between was a place of nothingness and everything.  It was illusion and it was real.  It was eternal but always changing.  Each soul that traversed it saw it differently, experienced it differently.  Each soul paid a different price to travel through it and a higher one to travel back.  It was ruled by the gods of dreams and nightmares.  And those who entered without the toll paid in other coin.  They paid in souls and not always their own. 

Sybilla promised them whatever they wanted.  She promised them anything, both for her and for him.  For entry and exit.  Then she closed the distance between her and Carmine, stopping abruptly ten paces away, suddenly afraid of what she was doing, of the presumption of it.  She was nothing to him.  A chance met acquaintance.  Why would he live just because she asked it of him?

"How is it you are here, cara? This is not the place for you. This is for those of us who have nothing, feel nothing, want nothing."

She took a deep breath, clasping her hands tight in front of her to keep herself from touching him.  "Then this is not the place for you either.  It is because you have and want and feel that you seek this place, is it not?"

He frowned at her. "Si, but I wish to stop the pain."

A position she could empathize with, but now was not the time to tell him that.  "And you think in what lies beyond this your pain will be gone?"

"Nothing lies beyond. Only silence and emptiness."

She took a tentative step towards him.  Why did humans always think the emptiness that followed death meant no more pain, no more anything and they could check it all at the door?  Didn't they know nature abhorred a vacuum?  Did they think Isaac Newton got it all wrong?  And why was it that the best of them hated themselves and their lives the most?  "Silence and emptiness that you will fill with yourself for so long as you are there."

"Scuzi?" he asked.

She pushed her hair back from her face.  Maybe this was how the fates had decided to punish her.  "You take it with you, mio caro.  All of it.  The hopes and joys.  The sorrows and the regrets.  The memories of what you did and didn't do.  Of those you loved and those you wished you loved.  That is why it is silent and empty.  So there will be the room for all the things you carry.  The only way to be free of what hurts you, what haunts you, is to lay it down in this life.  The only way to fill what is beyond with peace and forgiveness is to bring enough of it with you to do so."  Well, that wasn't strictly true but she wasn't going there right now.

He frowned again. "What is it to you what I choose? Cara, the pain.. So much. I am so tired. Let me go."

She wanted to weep for him.  "How can I when what you seek is not there?"  She spread her arms wide, palms upward.   "Oh mio caro, how do I make you see?  I am nothing to you, I know that, just a woman you met and spoke with for a few moments.  But you must believe me when I tell you that the rest you crave is not there.  I am the Cumaean Sybil, the guide to the Underworld.  I led Aeneas there.  Do you not remember what I said to him then?  The way is open but the path leads not to heaven or even the nothingness that humans so often imagine.  The one thing no one is ever free of is themselves, not even in death nor in what follows death."

Carmine stared at her for a moment, then sank to his knees.  He put his hands to his face.

She knelt before him, hugging herself to keep from putting her arms around him.  "I too would give anything to lay this life down," she whispered.  "More than that I would give anything to take your pain from you, to give you the surcease you desire so greatly."  The tears started then, filling her with self loathing for adding to his burdens.  "If there is any way...mio caro, you must tell me because I do not know what it is and I fear greatly I have only added to your sorrow."

"What must I do? Will I never be free?"

His torment filled every word, every breath he used to say the words.  More than that, his unrelenting need was exposed and it tore at her.  "Oh mio tesoro, mio caro..."  She gripped her elbows, digging her nails in to control herself, cursing the Fates.  He needed the one thing she did not have to give, the one thing she sought herself, the map to the journey from endurance to acceptance and from guilt to forgiveness.  The way to let another love you.  "Believe what is true. Believe you are loved.  Believe you are forgiven."  She whispered the words, knowing the inadequacy of them, the hollowness.  "Believe there is no evil within you."

"Mannaggia!" he cursed, but with hardly any energy in it. "Go where you are safe."

"I am safe where I am," she said, taking one of his hands in hers.

Carmine looked up at her then, meeting her eyes. "And how much will you pay for being here?"

"Nothing I haven't paid before."

"Come then. Let us go back."  He got to his feet and held his other hand out to her.  When she took it he drew her up to stand only a breath away from him.

She froze, her eyes trapped in his, unable to look away, almost unable to breathe.  He was so close she felt the heat of his body all along hers.  She ran her tongue over lips that felt parched.  He was so beautiful.

"You must show me the way," he said gently.

The words 'to a destination of my choice?' hovered on her lips.  She blinked, trying to clear her head.  What was wrong with her all of a sudden?  Men -- human, god, demi-god, demon or vampire, it didn't matter, they didn't do this to her.  She did not melt down at their feet in a puddle of lust.  She took a step backwards, putting space between them in self-defense.  She ignored the fact that she still held onto one of his hands.  "We must go back the way we came."

Carmine turned to look behind him, but the only feature he saw was the doorway that led to where she told him not to go. "Per favore, Signorina. I do not know the way. Will you show it to me."

"In this place the only way back is to go forward, into the future."  She gestured towards what looked like endless fog and mist.  She kept a hold of his hand, taking a step closer to it.  "Into the unknown."  She moved closer to the fog, drawing him with her, smiling at him.  "Avere il coraggio, il mio principe.  Life lies this way."

--------------

The agony brought him round, despite Tabitha doing her best to ease that pain, and flush the silver, still, it was demanding enough that despite everything he regained consciousness.  He couldn't see.

"Who is here?" he asked tightly.

"I am here, my prince," Siena said, her voice hard, fighting to keep it calm. She'd banished Nicco who had been sobbing when he'd seen what was left of Carmine's face.  "You are at the Refuge. Signoras Tabitha and Doni are working on you now, doing their best to flush the silver from your body. Signora Lynne is resting, but refuses to leave you. All are well at Signore Jacobs villa. Do not worry for them."

"I cannot see," Carmine replied.

"Si.  Your eyes and your face took the worst of it. It will take awhile for you to repair them."

"Prego. You should go home to be sure all is well there."

"No, signore. Vitorio will handle things there. My place is here."

Thea hung a fresh bag of blood and adjusted the flow.  "Signore, you must let them send you into sleep.  It will be many hours before they are finished.  You must let yourself rest, away from the pain."  An empath, she felt it with him, despite her efforts to shield herself and him.  She could hold some of it at bay but not all of it and he was clinging to consciousness, fighting them.  "All will be well, signore, I promise you."

He turned toward the sound of her voice, perhaps hearing the strain.  "Si. Mi dispiace, signorina. I did not realize you felt it so much as well. Do what you must. Ease the pain for all of you."

She knocked him out cold and kept him that way, remorselessly, for two days.