Author's note: Well, my muse got an idea for an Adam-centric fic. So here's the beginning of it. Hopefully I'll be able to update it regularly, and it won't be too long, but my muse wouldn't let me ignore it. So, here it is, and reviews are wonderful things. Usually.

Disclaimer: I don't own. So, don't sue me, ok? Please? I'm poor, I'm making no profit, I just have an overactive muse. Savvy?


Life hadn't been easy for Adam Lockwood. He'd had a difficult time convincing his parents to let him go to med school. He'd had an even more difficult time convincing them not to disown him when he had decided to move to Budapest, Hungary.

Truth be told, sometimes he wasn't sure it was the wisest decision. Sure, Budapest needed more doctors, especially in the ER, but it seemed to get him entangled in things he would never understand. Especially since the incident with Michael Corvin. One of the few other Americans that worked with Adam, Michael had been a loner, but he and Adam had a fairly friendly relationship. They were buds, but they knew they could count on each other in surgery and to back each other up.

And to help each other out when things got tough. Although Adam probably hadn't made the best decisions when Michael had come to him for help. But it'd been hard. Michael was a loner and kind of broody, but he had never seemed the kind to snap. Yet when he'd come around Adam that last time, dirty, wet, a large bite wound on the nape of his neck, he'd seemed to be delusional.

Aggressive as well.

It had freaked Adam out, really. He had no clue what was going on, only that Michael was wanted by the police - the two officers he'd met and never seen again after Michael's disappearance had looked more like huge thugs than police officers - was somehow connected to a subway shootout, was bitten, had been roughed up, and was talking about a man doing the biting and a woman clad in black leather being his savior.

He hadn't come off sane. And then his grip on Adam's wrist had been too strong. Too firm. He had seemed pissed, a calm pissed that warned of something starting to break, ready snap if he wasn't placated swiftly and adequately.

Sometimes Adam wondered how the grip hadn't broken his wrist. It'd hurt. It had actually hurt. He remembered the feel of Michael's fingers wrapped around his appendage as if he was trying to crush the bones. If Adam hadn't been able to keep his cool and calm Michael down, he wondered if Michael would have actually done that.

Adam shook his head, focusing back on his paperwork. Ever since Michael's disappearance, things had gotten weirder. He'd had double the stress, having to take most of Michael's responsibilities himself. Nicholas had been cranky - the old man was a great doctor and a good boss, but when something went wrong, he could get a really grumpy attitude - and Adam had been forced to do double shifts half the time.

Life wasn't easy for Adam Lockwood right now. But in twenty minutes he would be able to go home and get some sleep. It'd take about a half hour to get home, just a short walk to the subway station, a twenty minute ride, and then a five minute walk and five minute elevator ride. And then he would be at his hallway, reaching his room, opening and locking it quickly before collapsing on the sofa. The bed would be too far away.

He probably wouldn't even change. Taking his shoes off would be enough trouble as it was.

But that was in twenty minutes. Right now he had some papers to fill out properly and a cold coffee to finish. He just hoped the caffeine was still good and would keep him awake until he got home. Didn't matter if it was hot or cold - besides, the coffee there tasted more like muck.

Adam groaned as he rubbed his neck with his left hand, trying to relieve some of the stiffness as he finished filling out the papers, setting his pen down only to get a few, brief sips of his cold muck. There were sounds all around him, but it was much calmer now than usual.

Probably because there's no moon tonight, he thought idly, and dryly, an empty smirk forming briefly before his expression became neutral once again. He had noticed that things got more hectic - and weirder - during three specific nights of the month. Nights of the full moon. If he was superstitious man, he would be creeped out, but he wasn't. He just found it rather ridiculous. The gangs or mafia or whatever probably organized it that way.

After all, this was Budapest, Hungary. Naturally things would be worse there, during full moons, because everyone believed it was infested with werewolves and vampires and demons and ghosts and witches. Well, it might have a few witches. But they actually existed. The others, though, did not.

With a sigh, Adam shoved those thoughts away and finished up his paperwork before setting the pen aside, drinking the last of his muck with a grimace, and rising to go to his locker and gather his things. He could finally go home and get a break. He idly wondered if Michael was ok.

Michael disappeared during a full moon. Was bitten too. Maybe he wasn't so delusion. Maybe there was a lunatic with lycanthropy - the actual, medical lycanthropy - out that night. It has happened before, and Michael was bitten.

Of course, that left the woman only Michael had seen and the subway shootout and being wanted by the police. Somehow, he couldn't believe that a lunatic believing he was a werewolf could bring all of those into the picture. It was just a little too far fetched. He'd stick to the Michael just snapping under pressure after a rabid dog attack and it colliding with a full moon theory that the police had given him.

After all, it was a medical impossibility for werewolves to exist. This was the twenty-first century. It didn't matter if he was in Budapest or Transylvania or New York City or Los Angeles. Werewolves and superstition were just for the movies and film industry to play with. Nothing more.