Author's note: Another ficlet written for 15minuteficlets. Probably one of my favorites. Not sure why, I just like how this one turned out. Anyway, hope you enjoy, reviews are a wonderful thing and greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please don't sue me. But if you would like to give me the rights to Nomak, I would be a very happy camper.


LITTLE BOY LOST

Nomak stared at the ring in his hands. It was large, though not gaudy. It was gold and red and crested with the family crest. His family crest, supposedly. It had been the one gift his father had given him, unless one counted the pain that he always felt, the mutations in his body. But he didn't - no, this ring, this family ring was his one gift.

A bitter laugh left him, because he knee that now, now Father probably wanted to take it from him and erase any evidence that they were indeed family. That Nomak possessed Damaskinos blood, that he was the true heir, the only living son, rightful heir, not his sister, not Nyssa.

Or was she his half sister? Did Nyssa share not only her father and her pure blood with Nomak, but her mother as well?

Did Nomak even have a mother? Had he been born the normal way, to a vampiric mother? Had she wanted him, had she loved him while he was nestled in her womb? Had she looked at him and held him and smiled at him the day he was born, only to watch him be ripped from her arms? Or had she only bore him to please the vampire overlord, or because she was blackmailed? Had she let them poke and prod her and not protected him from his father and needles even then?

Nomak seemed change position slightly as he thought about that. He appeared to be drawing his body into himself as much as possibly, knees pressed to his chest, hands cradling the ring to him, head bowed and hidden even without the hood. He felt strange, he felt a different pain.

Would she have loved him if she had kept him? Would she have protected him and raised him among others like them and not kept him hidden away? Would she have let him play with his sister, let his presence be known, his heritage out in the open? Would she have taken him away from Father and Nyssa? Would she have kept the both of them hidden from Damaskinos, safe from his obsession with creating a stronger race?

The reaper trembled slightly, and a burning hot liquid left his eyes, clear and thin, not amber colored and thick. It was water, not blood, and it was soaked up by his burning skin, but it continued to trickle from his eyes and he realized he was crying. He didn't remember crying before.

Not when he first mutated, the experience to agonizing it felt as though he would split apart, that his body would burst open or burst into flames. The scalding heat a stark, painful contrast to the usual frigid body temperature he had once been. Not even when he had escaped, burning, famished, parched, aching, confused, had he cried.

But Nomak had been so used to detachment and scorn and hatred and hunter's on his back. He was used to being hurt, to being prodded with needles or prodded with weapons. He was used to strange chemicals being injected into him somehow, to the pain of overcoming their harmful elements. He was used to being hurt, to be hunted, to being hated.

He had never known his mother, he didn't know if he had a mother, if he and Nyssa shared a mother, he didn't know any of it. And the thought that he might have, that perhaps in her he might have found a caring smile and a loving touch made him want to curl into a fetal position and wish he was back in her womb, ignorant and innocent.

Nomak put the ring back on his finger and composed himself. What would his father think, what would he do if he saw him there, huddled on the ground and crying like a baby? But Nomak nearly lost it when his mind pondered another thought, cruel and unwelcome.

What would his mother think? What would his mother do?