Thank you to Baroque, GalanthaDreams, latest-blooming-sakura-blossom and zackie for your beautiful reviews! Also, thanks to those who have added this to their favorites/alerts list – you have all made me a very happy girl.

By the way, this author's note is going to be a bit long, because I want to introduce my two newest ideas for some Frankie/Alison fics. The first one is a normal strangers-to-lovers progression between the two as Frankie was assigned to be Alison's bodyguard whilst disguised as her fiancé. Idea is lovingly given by Lady Femme Fatale of Fictionpress. Her fic Stumble gives me this idea. There will be conflicts related to the movie as well as some sexual themes.

The second one focuses on a Dark!FrankiexAlison (because no fandom is never complete without a little psychopathic twist to it lol). Here are two pre-made summaries for this one:

Frankie's job is simple – raise his boss' daughter until she's grown and ready for the transformation. What they never realized is that her adoration for the soldier and his 14 years of watching her grow up can turn into a deadly cycle of obsession and possessiveness.


Her guardian of 14 years said that pain is to be enjoyed now that she's a vampire. And maybe she really does love the fact that he owns every aspect of her life – perhaps even too obsessively.

Well, you get the idea. This will contain twists to the characters' personalities – not OOC, just revealing their dark, blind sides. Will possibly contain graphic violence, sex, and profanity. Plus, the vampires in this fic will have the ability to alter humans' minds (somewhat like the Vampire Diaries) – and this will not be a strangers-lovers story. I just wanna do something different *shrug*.

Anyways, please tell me how you think about these two ideas! Personally these two are like my babies – they're so fun to write about, but I still need some other opinions to get me going. Thanks!



Alison could never imagine how that single syllable that she had come to loathe and love at the same time could bring such a great wave of relief washing through her entire being. She was never a religious person – she hadn't been to the church since the Infection broke out and she was pretty convinced that God had deserted them all and left His greatest creations to die, but now she inwardly screamed and thanked Him. Whatever deity did this to her and Frankie – He still had not given one of them up, and she found herself oddly appreciating the whole bizarre situation she was trapped in.

When she found herself lurching back to the dank, dark cell, she only needed to look ahead and saw the soldier – perfectly the way she had remembered him before their failed breakout. Alison didn't know what took over her mind – catharsis, maybe – because she launched herself at the man who had left her to die for multiple times and hugged him like she would hug her human comrades, her own family.

Like she would hug her father – once upon a time.

She didn't say a word for a long time, and neither did he as she clung on to the bulk of his body, silently digging her face into the curve of his shoulder. Her fingertips felt cold where they had touched the bare skin protruding out of the collar of his uniform, but the ragged breathing brushing down on the back of her neck told her that he was alive, alive, alive…

It was only after a while did she realize how he wasn't reciprocating her tight hug, and she immediately withdrew, feeling rather embarrassed. Of course. He didn't feel this outburst of emotions when he saw her die for five times. Alison now felt silly – it only took her one dramatic experience of seeing him die to literally fling herself at him, and it made her feel like a cheap human slut to this vampire. And the memory of the little kiss she hastily dropped on his lips a while ago did not help boost up her confidence.

"Sorry," she mumbled, immediately feeling furiously embarrassed again. Why the hell is she apologizing to him now? It was obvious enough that he shared no such empathy and was merely staring at her like he was confused at the events that had just transpired.

But there was something about Frankie's eyes that made her restless. Dare she say remorse? Sadness? Regret?

"I—" his voice finally cracked out, accompanied by the slight movement along his throat as he swallowed. "You shouldn't be."

She stared up at him as he raised one hand – and in the building anticipation Alison half-expected him to pat her, touch her, comfort her with that cold palm. But he did none of the sort as he gently pushed her away, hastily withdrawing as the pads of his fingers came into contact with the bare skin of her arm. She could see him swallow again, the golden glow in his eyes a mixture of hunger and his denial to comply to the temptation.

"It must've been horrible," he muttered unconsciously, and she blinked in bewilderment. "You died in that blistering heat five times."

This time it was her turn to swallow the dryness in her mouth. The pain was unbearable, the madness of it repeating again and again was excruciating – but so was watching him die. Alison didn't know what drove her to say all that to the soldier, who looked at her in the bewilderment one would bestow upon watching a flying saucer.

"I don't understand," he mumbled confusedly.

Alison found herself smiling at his ignorance of the simple spectrum of emotions. She shrugged. "I guess that's what's so great about being human."

Frankie didn't seem convinced, nor did the remorse seem to falter from his eyes. "I killed you. Five times."

She involuntarily bit down on her lower lip, chewing on the flesh anxiously as the topic rose. She knew she said her inexplicable emotions was just one of the great things about humanity, but truth be told, it was also one of her pet peeves she had come to loathe as well. Alison prided herself for being able to identify herself to the very core, but now she had come to revise all of her principles from A to Z. For instance – showing compassion to a vampire. Particularly this vampire.

"But you also tried and saved me," she muttered, looking away. "And I guess that's all that matters to me."

Frankie opened his mouth, as if to say something, but clamped his mouth back shut as he ran one hand along his shaved hair, chortling humorlessly.

"I guess this is why I made such a bad human," he mumbled, closing his eyes grimly. Alison saw the troubled look on his expression and she made her way towards him, reaching for his hand.

"Hey," she muttered. "You tried saving me, and you regretted what you did. If that's not human, I don't know what is."

She grinned at him and he smiled back, a little shine lighting on his features.

"I really fucked up," he mumbled, squeezing back the palm of her hand. She felt a slight shudder running across her arm as the icy stoniness of his skin clashed against her live warmth, and she wondered if he felt it too. "And I'm sorry."

Alison struggled to breathe with the distance they were keeping. "It's okay."

Her eyes scoured up to his, and she knew he was struggling as well. Struggling not to hurt her and stain the room red with her blood.

She bit on her lip nervously at the thought, and his golden irises quickly snapped to the movement. Alison was briefly reminded of the quick peck they had shared in the execution lines, and she blushed momentarily. She couldn't see Frankie sharing the same sentiments – just stone cold calmness as his thumb rose and brushed lightly against the skin of her lips. Maybe it was her warmth seeping into the dead pad of his finger, or just the alien feel of a female – but whatever it is, it caused him to pause midway through. Alison was pretty sure her sharp intake of air could be heard in the stillness of the room. And then, as sudden as he had made the move, he withdrew – and Alison found herself confusedly disappointed by the sudden loss of contact.

"So what's the plan now?" he asked huskily, as if nothing had happened.

"Oh," she mumbled, her voice faltering. "I guess we can…"

And then it dawned on her that they had tried every means possible – they tried reaching a win-win solution, they tried breaking out, they tried everything and none seemed to work. She didn't know what to do and neither did he.

"I can leave you here in the cell again," he shrugged. "But after that is up to you."

Alison thought about it. The doctor that had come in place of Frankie every time he let her go wasn't any gentler or more compassionate about the transformation than the soldier, and she found herself hating every moment of being trapped in his hold and in his fangs. She would have wanted so badly to try and stay human for just one time – but she knew it was impossible. The breakout earlier said everything.

"Change me," she suddenly said, surprising herself and Frankie.

"What?" he muttered, bewildered.

"Turn me," she said, courageously looking into his eyes.

He scowled. "Are you insane—"

"Look, this is the thing that we haven't tried," she said obstinately. "Maybe if I let you turn me voluntarily, this all—" She waved her hands to make her point. "—will stop."

Alison could sense the pupils of his eyes flickering down to the white of her neck hungrily, the nails of his fingers digging into his palms in anticipation. "Are you sure…?"

She made her point by stepping forward, forcing herself to smile. "You've turned me five times. Might as well get used to it."

It took Frankie a while to take in her words and she tried closing her eyes, willing herself to face the sudden, upcoming pain in her jugular. But minutes passed, and she didn't sense his arm forcing around her waist or the piercing pain of his fangs in her veins. Instead, she felt his hand taking hers in a tight grip. It wasn't gentle nor loving, but she could sense that he was trying to reassure her.

Alison opened her eyes just as he brought up her hand to the tip of his lips, and she realized that he was trying to make amends. Trying to actually turn her without making her feel violated.

She shivered as the cold slickness of his fangs brush lightly against her wrist before finally diving in, extracting a short cry of pain out of her mouth as he fed hungrily on her blood, lapping the crimson fluids like a beast. She found her body sinking weakly at the sudden gruesomeness of it all, but one strong arm shot out from the bulk of his body and generously clung around her torso, supporting her.

"Frankie," she whimpered painfully. "Frankie—"

She could sense the blood in her wrist dripping to a slow stop as she gasped and tried to find another anchor in her mind to divert her senses from that sick, sick scent of iron or how the vampire in front of her removed his mouth from her gruesomely bloody wrist, his breath ragged with the thick drops of blood slowly trickling from his lips. He looked at her – and she found the urge to cower away, afraid that he'd make a lung on her throat now that her wrist was a dry mess of flesh and bones.

But he didn't.

And slowly he helped her slump down to the ground, his eyes still gilded with the thrills and excitements of his last feeding, but not starved. She was scared of this beastly state and she suddenly questioned all the compassions she had for this man. What was she thinking? He was still an animal who fed on her – fed on her friends. One look at the mangled flesh of her wrist and Alison felt both tears and the urge to throw up filling her entire being.

"Relax," he said gruffly, pushing her head back gently as he tried to wipe the cold sweat on her forehead without actually staining her with blood. There was a low grunt as he removed the sling from his arm testily, and she half-wondered at his actions as he wrapped the white cloth around her wrist, tying a neat knot to secure the wound.

Alison whimpered, cradling her hand as he stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face. It was only when Alison drifted off to the restless sleep of transformation that he patted one side of her cheek, and left.


Charles Bromley was more than ecstatic to see his daughter much alive and well in her new life form. He had expected a lot of arguments and even a whole lot more of fighting on his daughter's side, but her acceptance was miraculous. He didn't know how the young soldier did it, but he did and Charles was more than proud that he had entrusted the duty to Frankie Dalton.

"Frankie, son, I expect you to keep this up on your next duty," he said, clapping the man on the shoulder as Alison stood by him, smiling that smile he hadn't seen for years.

"Thank you, sir," the young vampire muttered, casting a little, flickering smile before retreating back to his detached exterior.

"Make sure nothing happens to my daughter," Charles said smilingly as the soldier nodded and ushered his daughter away from the office, down to the eerie hallways of Bromley Marks.

"Sight-seeing? Really?" he mumbled to her, making sure that he made no apparent gestures of friendliness to Alison. "You asked your father for a time of leisure?"

She shot him a glare. "And I thought you were the smart one."

The soldier looked at her as she swept past the entrance doors and out to the chilly night air, him trailing in her wake as he tried to figure out her plans. It all clicked when he saw a black Bentley Mulsanne hanging by the gates, a chauffeur elegantly poised by its side as he smiled and opened the door for the new mistress of Bromley Marks. Alison glanced at Frankie, and the soldier casted her an understanding look before sliding into the back of the machine with her. She made sure he was seated just behind the driver's seat.

"Good night, ma'am," the chauffeur said cheerily, sliding into his position as he nodded at Alison, then at Frankie. "—Sir." He started the engine. "So, where do we go…?"

Alison shot Frankie a scathing glance, indicating that this was time for him to jump into the conversation. Of course – she wouldn't know anything about the streets or areas in the modified city of vampires.

"Just drive us down to the Colorado Suburbs, please," he instructed carefully.

The driver scowled. "Are you sure, Sir? That area is still under development – as far as I remember, the progress was on hold and no one goes there," the driver said confused. "Are you sure you don't want to go to someplace nicer…?"

Frankie returned the sharp glance Alison had thrown at him, and she quickly jumped in to help. "Um – no, I just want to look at some vampire housing," she said lamely, biting her lip anxiously. "And you know, um, I wouldn't want to disturb the residents, so it's better to go around those that are abandoned."

The chauffeur shrugged. "As you wish, ma'am."

Alison almost sighed with relief as she slumped back to the leather seats, glancing at the soldier by her side as he looked back at her and nodded. She sensed his fingers slide back to the side of his belt, leaving only with a glint of metal gripped tight in his fingers.

Alison found herself holding her breath as the Bentley swept smoothly into the deserted suburbs, the sleek machine an odd thing among semi-finished structures that laid bare among the sides of the road.

"Well, here we are," the chauffeur said, slowly driving the car down the street. "This used to be the human neighborhood, perfectly bustling with them until the Infection, of course…"

She found herself hardly listening to the driver's words, found herself focusing on Frankie as he deftly slid the long knife into the back of the driver's seat. He hesitated for a moment, making sure that the chauffeur had no idea of what was going on before steadying one boot on the protruding hilt. He glanced at Alison, and she nodded.

Frankie kicked on, hard, with the heel of his boot and the chauffeur's sentence broke off in a grunt as the knife jabbed forwards – through the soft cushion of the set and ramming into the soft flesh of the vampire. His hands immediately fell away from the steering wheel and the car swerved violently to the side, throwing Alison across her seat as she tried desperately to keep her balance.

She felt Frankie's jumping up to take control of the wheel as the car crashed against the signs hanging outside the ghastly structures, screeching ferociously before finally ramming into a postal box.

Alison laid sprawled against the back seat as she breathed heavily, trying to comprehend what just happened. The slight shaking of the seat indicated her that Frankie had slumped back to her side, a slight smile painted on his face.

"We did it."

She grinned. "Yep."


Alison skimmed through the sets of CD her father had in store in the Bentley. She was annoyed with the fact that almost everything was jazz, with a few exceptions that included Deep Purple and Michael Bolton CDs. There were even old cassettes – things that she hadn't even thought her father would keep. He was always into the neo stuff, and so the old technology appalled her. It surprised her even more when she realized that they were cassettes of old children songs – ones that she used to sing with him a long time ago.

"Baa Baa Black Sheep?"

She looked up at the soldier whose golden eyes were still petrified on the road ahead of him. She didn't know how he did it – read things with the slightest glance.

"Yeah," she muttered, dusting the cassette almost affectionately. "Long memory."

He didn't respond for a moment, swerving the car into a small, isolated road as she juggled the box in her hands, wondering why such dear memories of her father still brought an eerie sense of longing.

"You can slot it in if you want to," Frankie spoke up again, waving to the radio set.

She snorted. "Don't be ridiculous – a car this advanced won't have—"

He surprised her by pressing a simple button and driving on calmly as the machinery hummed and revealed a cassette slot.

"There," he said.

Alison stared at him. "Just how did you know—"

"Alison. Just slot it in."

She swallowed and pondered as she stared at the cassette in her hands. It lied there harmlessly, but she knew how much it would hurt to play the little tape. It would hurt because it reminded her of what she once had and lost in a span of a few years – but a part of her wanted to feel the pain, wanted to relive the image of a lost Charles Bromley. And perhaps that was why she pushed the tape in with one shaking hand, holding her breath as it gave a low whirr and began to ooze with a little bouncy tune.

Baa Baa Black Sheep
Have you any wool?

"Yes Sir, Yes Sir, three bags full," she muttered along – quietly, furtively.

She was glad that the soldier didn't smirk or laugh at her, merely drove on with the expression of a brick wall. And yet she couldn't shake off the feeling that he was inwardly smiling at her immaturity.

"Yes, okay, I'm a baby," she spoke out loud, waving her hands in the air.

Frankie merely glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say that."

"Yes, but you're thinking it," she grumbled.

He merely shrugged. "It's a memory of you and your father. There's nothing wrong with that."

She fell silent and glanced at the soldier, suddenly remembering what they had talked about before the escapade. "What about you?"


"You," she explained. "Your family. You promised you'd tell me before we broke out."

Frankie's face remained indifferent, but she could sense the slight tightening of his palms around the wheel. "My family is pretty normal. Nothing extraordinary."

"If it's so normal then you'd have found every memory extraordinary," she persisted, folding her arms. "You said you weren't good as a human. What happened?"

She felt a furious glint crossing through his eyes before vanishing away, replaced by a slight scowl on his face. "My family and I… We weren't close. That's it."

Alison stared at him silently. "Why?"

"I told you, I wasn't much of a good human," he insisted, gritting his teeth. "I wasn't what they expected of me and that's that."

She could sense that she was entering a very sensitive subject, and a decent part of her told her to stop there and turn back if she wanted to preserve her relationship with the soldier. But a curious part of her told her to go on, delve deeper into this vampire. And another small part of her told her that if she could get through this one man, she could finally find reason why her father abandoned her for vampirism.

"What about your brother?" she asked, quietly.

He pressed his lips together. "What about him?"

"Were you close to him?"

There was a small pause when the protective shutters of the Bentley lowered down, humming slowly along with a robotic voice that warned them of daylight. None of them paid attention.

"Yes," he finally replied. "Once."

She stared at him. "What happened…?"

He snorted derisively. "What's happened to you and your father. Vampires, humans—"

"Let me guess," she muttered, folding her arms. "You grew apart from him because he didn't agree with your idea of vampirism, and then you just threw him away because of your egoistical pride –"

Frankie swerved hard to the right and met Alison angrily in the eyes. "I did not throw my brother away," he growled. "If anything, my family threw me away! He should've appreciated it when I turned him—"

"Oh, so that's what happened? You get abandoned and then you forcefully turn your own brother so he can become the likes of you?" she exclaimed angrily. "Disgusting."

The soldier pressed the brake ever so suddenly that Alison felt herself lurching forward, her forehead banging hard against the dashboard as she yelped painfully. She could feel blood trickling down the side of her face, but now she was more angry than frightened by the furious crimson fluid as she turned to the soldier who was sitting calmly in his seat, perfectly protected by the seatbelt hugging his torso. Damn him for recognizing her bad habit of forgetting basic safety steps.

"What is wrong with you?" she yelled, cupping one hand against the bruise throbbing on her head.

He turned to look at her, his eyes swimming with dangerous ferocity. "Don't try to brainwash me with your humanist ideas, Alison. Your principle, not mine."

"What, can't you handle a little debate with your enemy?" she hissed, edging him. "Or are you that pessimistic in your beliefs that you have to use brute force against a woman?"

Frankie stared back at her furiously. "I don't have to debate with you. I know I'm right."

"Right about what, Frankie?" she shouted. "About being a vampire? About turning people against their will and pushing them away from you? You know – maybe this is why your family abandoned you – you have all their love and care and you push them away for something egoistic!"

This time she struck a nerve. In a second the seatbelt had slid away with a hiss from his body, and he was leaning close to her – so very close. She could feel the heated anger of his breath beating against her face, the cold fury drenched in the golden glow of his eyes.

"Oh, really now?" he hissed, his voice laced with menace. "Fancy of you to lecture people about their families, Alison, because I have the strongest idea that you can't even settle a single dispute with your father."

She held her head aloof, sneering slightly. "That's different – my father is a cruel man and I don't love him—"

"Really, now," he breathed, his lips slowly curving into a smirk as hers faded away. "Then what is with that cassette?" He waved his hand to the radio, still humming with the cheerful voice of a choir of children – now an alien, eerie tune in the midst of their argument. "And what is it with all the singing along and that nostalgic face—" He held up a hand as she tried to open her mouth. "—And no, don't try to deny it. I saw your expression. Let's just face it – you still love your father, and maybe if your stubborn head would allow it, you'd let yourself be a vampire for once just to relive one more day with him. Or better yet—" He paused for a moment, emphasizing his point. "—you hate vampires, much because that life form tore your father away from you."

Alison felt as if he had slapped her across the face and doused her with ice cold water at the same time. She wanted to deny it badly, but no words came up to her mind except the fact that he was right about everything. That maybe she wished the Infection had never spread out and she would still be singing old songs with her father in this Bentley together.

The thought made her furious, made her feel vulnerable to this vampire who so easily glared at her with those cold, malevolent eyes and rendered her speechless with every blatant truth he spouted out. A minute later the anger dissipated and left her with sadness – just sheer, embarrassing sadness and she turned away from Frankie, pressing one palm of her hand against her face to stop the tears from gushing out. But it was impossible with him staring at her, observing like he knew what it felt like to be in her position.

"It's still not too late," he muttered, and she shivered as his fingers brushed momentarily against her hair. "We can still turn back. Go back to your father." He paused for a moment. "Your family."

"He killed me," she hissed angrily at him. "He killed me five times and you still wanted to convince me to go back to that monster?"

"You were a Subsider then," he muttered. "I would have easily chosen death had I been in your position."

"Oh, so that's it? You would've easily killed me too had I drink my blood now and turn into a Subsider?"

He froze, and she noticed how his eyes steadily became wary, possibly scared that she would take drastic moves and bite herself. She didn't know why he would care, he was – after all – just one of her father's underdogs.

"You saw your father's face after your transformation," he murmured. "He still loves you. In his own way."

"Parents don't kill their children," she spat out.

"No, parents always try to save their children from harsher fates," he breathed, brushing a trickle of blood off her face with one finger. "He never gave up on you after years."

"He's an egoistical beast."

"But still a father. Not a good one, but still."

She pushed him away harshly. "Don't try and defend him. And don't try to lecture me."

He opened his mouth, presumably to say something more when a loud voice over rang through the entire Bentley.

"Mr. Dalton," said the stern voice. "You have an hour to return Miss Bromley safely to Bromley Marks. I repeat – you have an hour to surrender and return the hostage—"

Frankie's eyes widened considerably and he quickly turned back to the back seat, where the chauffeur had been bound and gagged. There was no explaining how the once unconscious vampire now had an emergency mobile phone in his hands, a bleeping 'EMERGENCY' word shining on the screen.

"Shit—" he muttered furiously, grabbing the phone and throwing it at Alison while he pressed the gas and charged on.

"Where are we gonna go…?" she muttered. There was a slight fear in her that she would have to go through his executions again and kept her temper as his father soothingly said that it was for the best. No – even after their little fight, Alison still didn't want to see the gruesome picture of Frankie under the flare of the sun.

"Doesn't matter," Frankie muttered. "They're gonna catch us anyways. Might as well lead them down a merry little chase." He glanced at her, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable with the slight glint running through his eyes.

"You know what?" he breathed, swerving hard to another direction. "I changed my mind."

She stared in bewilderment at him. "What are you planning on now?"

Frankie glanced at her, and she knew very well how wrong his schemes would sound.

"I'm going to prove how much your father loves you."

Reviews would be very lovely.

Btw, the technique that Frankie used to immobilize the drive I got from the movie Identity – credits to the brilliant scriptwriters of that movie.