Origins: Snapshots In Time 101

The front door opened, and Bridgette, who had been sprawled on the couch with the TV running, immediately jerked her head up. Matthew was supposed to have been home hours ago. They'd gone to get groceries. They'd left at nine-thirty in the morning. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when he finally walked in the door.

"Dad?" Bridgette dropped the television remote and slid off the couch, starting across the living room. When the door opened the rest of the way and Matthew ducked under the doorway and walked in, the pre-teen's solid black eyes widened into saucers. "Dad?" She darted forward, grabbing at his sweater and trying not to think about the sticky substance that was embedded into it and crunching under her own gloves. Or the holes in it. Or the burns and singed areas on it. What the hell?!

"M'fine." Matthew murmured, and shut the door behind him. "Phone, Bri."

"Yeah, okay, sure you're fine. You're NOT FINE!!" She grabbed hold of his arm and actively started dragging. "Sit down and I'll get you the phone, okay? Please?"

"Yeah." Matthew replied automatically, but his tone was dead sounding.

Bridgette stared at him at that tone of voice, and then frowned, making sure he'd sat down before she skittered through the living room to grab the cordless out of the dining room. "Okay.. Dad, phone. Here. Who are you calling? And where were you? And what happened?!"

"Your Grandfather." Matthew said simply. "And nevermind right now. Where's Lucas?"

"Not home from school yet. Give him another hour or so, I think. He wont' get home until about four.. Dad, where's Mom? And Kelly?" She couldn't get over the sinking sensation in her stomach, and it was driving her up the wall. Her father's vague reply didn't do anything to help settle the feeling, either.

"They're not coming home tonight." Matthew stated dully. "Give me that phone and go make something in the way of supper, alright? Just three of is. Baby's staying at your grandparents' for tonight."

"Yeah... alright." She eyed him, backing away towards the kitchen. "Dad, at least bandage up that arm or something, will you? You're bleeding."

"Mmhmm." Matthew mumbled in response, but it was an automatic response and Bridgette knew full well he hadn't actually heard what she'd said. His hands were already reaching for the phone, starting to dial out his parent's phone number as he sat there.

Bridgette frowned, then ripped the glove off her hand, and before Matthew could say anything, she stuck the palm of her left hand against her father's cheek. Ignoring the arcing pain that went racing through her as the drain effect started, Bridgette just gritted her teeth, and chewed at the inside of her lip. When she went to move her hand away and discovered she couldn't, the girl's jet black eyes widened in a combination of surprise and panic.

"Bridgette!!" Matthew bellowed and dropped the phone like a hot potato, letting it clatter to the floor. He reached up to grab at his daughter's arm. he could feel the draining already. That warm, full sensation that he always felt when draining another human being. But he also felt her draining him, though he knew she had just as little control over that when in direct contact as he did.

The only differnce between their respective abilities was that while he just drained the basic life force energy - the energy that fed a soul and gave it fuel to run on - Bridgette actually fed off the souls directly. Thankfully, she was still young and not near as powered as he was. He could ignore the scraping, dragging, biting, clawing sensation he felt tearing at his soul while her hand was on him.

"Dammit, what have I told you?!" He yanked her hand back, staring at her with wide, silver-grey eyes. "DON'T DO THAT!!"</B>

Bridgette didn't say anything. There was a sharp, piercing scream out of the preteen as he pulled her arms off, but that was out of her control to stop. She couldn't have pulled away from him if she'd wanted to. Not once she'd touched his skin. She couldn't move until he'd yanked her hand away from him.

Matthew stared at her worriedly, his cheeks flushed with a combination of fear and anger both. She was fourteen; she knew better. He knew she couldn't quite handle the kind of drain she had just gotten from him very well. Matthew grabbed her other arm just as she was about to tip right over.

"THAT is why you don't do that." he sighed, grabbing hold of her with gloved, long-fingered hands and set her down on the couch. "Stay there. SIT there. And don't try to stand up until your head stops spinning and it stops hurting." He sighed, and grabbed the phone, throwing it across the room as he stalked out to the kitchen himself.

"You were bleeding, Dad." Bridgette called after him, dazedly. "And you weren't gonna do anything to take care of it. And it was bad. You needed the regen."

"I DON'T</B> need my daughter dead because of being bullheaded!" He snapped, on his way back out from the kitchen and sat down next to her with a small bowl of cool water and a cloth. Gloved hands mositened the cloth and he lifted it up, putting it to the girl's forehead. "I'm a life stealer, Bri. You could have just killed yourself there. We've already lost two today, I can't bury another child tonight. Not tonight."

"...so that's what's going on." Bridgette replied, quietly. "No wonder you were so out of it when you came in... they're both...?" She stared at him dazedly, not even bothering to fuss at him about the cloth on her head.

"Car bomb," Matthew said bitterly. "It blew the car when I was halfway across the lot. Kelly and your mother were both in it. Not enough left to bury. Must have been set while we were in the store." His tone was.. guarded. Cautious. Tight. Bridgette recognized the soldier's control creeping into it and just stared at him disbelievingly.

"But why...?"

"I don't know." Matthew sighed, and dumped the cloth into the bowl of water, getting it moist again. "Still hurting?"

"Yeah." She admitted, sheepishly. "Should I just take a motrin or--"

"No. Don't drink anything, and don't eat anything yet. You'll puke it up if you do." Matthew cut her off. "Just keep that cloth cool, and keep it there. It'll help the headache. The rest will fade in about an hour or two. You weren't engaged long enough to lose a lot, fortunately." He sighed. "Bri.. don't ever.. ever do that again. Please. I know why you did it, but please don't. It's too dangerous. You can't disengage yourself once you do it."

"I noticed that." Bridgette retorted dryly, reaching for the cloth herself and taking over, as Matthew slumped down on the other side of the couch.