Only 'mostly' because the memories leave her uncomfortable. She wants to cringe at some of her actions, even as she realises how fun or necessary they had been. She liked stalking the human, liked the idea of a scared and shaking boy on the floor in front of her. The feeling she remembers is one of glee and hunger, and she tries not to think what might have happened if Murdoch hadn't come into the room at just the right time.

She regrets ruining Essie's clothes, but not wholeheartedly. Essie is her friend, but she's self-centred and deserves some small reminders of her flaws.

When Merrill thinks about snarling at Murdoch, coming close and showing him her teeth, she doesn't regret nearly as much as she should. She wonders if he felt helpless sitting there, and she hopes he did. He works hard for them, but Merrill thinks he doesn't understand how helpless they all sometimes feel at the school. He can judge them, send them away, leave them with nothing and no one to turn to but the Fury. It can't hurt him to know how helplessness feels. It can't hurt him to pay a little for trying to send Drew away.

Mostly though, she wants to cringe when she thinks of Marty and the way she'd touched him. She remembers the taste of him on her tongue, and the longing she'd felt for the touch of his hands. Marty might not be the one she's destined for, but there's something about him that she wants to have.  She wants to work his skin with her teeth, wants to grasp his hair in her hands and pull a little.

The thoughts disturb her, but Murdoch is right. She has been pushing things away for too long, ignoring her urges and her instincts. The experiment is important, she knows that, but it's time she stopped being its ideal. She needs to balance her wants with the dictates of the Elders.

Part of that is loving the darkness she hides away. Another part is doing what she wants, even if it is outside of her usual actions.

She's sitting at the small table where Marty showed her the inkblot cards. They're all gone, except for one she found wedged in the seat. The image looks like nothing to her, but the flat, smooth shape is pleasing to her hands, and so she holds onto it while thinking.

Marty walks into the room, his pace slow but recognisable. He thinks he always moves so quietly, and he does, but Merrill can still hear him. She doesn't look up as he comes to stand slightly behind her.

"Merrill. Still crazy?"

She shakes her head, her eyes fixed on the card in her hands. "No. I'm remembering what I did."

"Yeah?"

He sounds vaguely interested, and Merrill thinks of their chess games. Marty is good at strategy, but she's better. Far better. Marty wears his thoughts on his sleeve, he never has learned subtlety. She can imagine him before he came to the school, just cutting a wide swath through the human population, never stopping to savour the small things.

"Yes. It's all falling into place."

"Huh. Anything interesting?"

Turning, she smiles up at him, slow like the way her doppleganger smiled. "Some of it." Her smile widens when he steps back slowly. "I remember stalking the human. It was interesting. You understand."

He nods. "Sure."

Of all of them, Marty's the one who has balked the most at the experiment, and yet Merrill wonders if he's the one it is most influencing. He pretends he is still the monster he described from his past, but Merrill thinks otherwise.  She thinks in some way he had been longing for Murdoch-style experiments and the acceptance of a small group. Still grinning, she holds up the inkblot card she's been toying with. "What do you see, Marty?"

"Paper.  Ink."

"How unimaginative you can be." She cushions the words with another smile, this one warm and sweet. Marty relaxes slightly, and moves to sit across from her. "Do you know what I see?" She makes her voice low, sultry.

Small, pale beads of sweat appear along Marty's hairline. She thinks of licking them off, but holds herself back.

"No." He speaks more quietly than usual, and it sends her a deep feeling of satisfaction.

She wants to reach out, touch him, but she's not sure. Something is holding her back, and abruptly she drops the card on the table. "Neither do I." Slowly, she pushes herself up from the chair, and leaves the room. Behind her, Marty sighs, and she adds that to her list of regrets.

She's going to have to make a decision soon, and she can't afford to wait for Drew to come back much longer.

~~~~

It doesn't end there.  Marty doesn't let it go, even if he manages not to push her.

He comments on her clothes, and professes disappointment when she moves away from the black vinyl and back into her more common attire. Still, it's a relief to put on soft cottons and high-necked dresses, and she suspects Marty likes it as well.

He looks at her while he's drinking, the play of his tongue over his lips provocative.

He's not subtle. There are none of the delicacies that Drew displayed with Sherry, none of the actions she'd wished Drew would direct towards her.

Still, Marty's kind. He listens to her as she remembers more of what she did, and he's willing to believe her about the doppleganger.

It comes to a head when he tells her it's ok that she's hurting. Drew has never spoken to her like that. No one has, and she says so, glad of the way he smiles at her words.

He tells her to love the one she's with, tells her how she could compliment and balance his temperament. His words are honest in a way that speaks of little planning. He doesn't try to woo her with pretty pictures or wordy speeches.

When his hands card through her hair, and then rest on her shoulders, Merrill thinks she could love the one she's with. It wouldn't take much to love him as more than simply that.

The weight of his hands are welcome, and she's about to smile up at him and say so when Drew walks in the door.

~~~~

It's sad that she's waited so long for Drew, and it was all for this. She's quiet as he provokes Murdoch, Marty and Karl. There's something in his actions, like he's trying to become the alpha male in their little pack. It unsettles her. Drew doesn't act like this, he doesn't try to control others, at least not so obviously.

She's only seen him angry a handful of times, all in some way connected with Sherry.

At first, she thinks that Drew will calm down.  His time with the Elders was bound to be difficult, it makes sense that he might be shaken for a while as he tries to find his place back in the school and the experiment.

She changes her mind when he attacks her. His hands on her are almost what she's dreamed about. But as he tries to kiss her, she can't feel anything but fear. His fingers grip her roughly, and he's stronger than he's ever been. She's yelling at him to stop when he's abruptly pulled off her.

"Take it easy, Drew." Marty's voice is cold, and Merrill wonders if he acted on instinct, or if he thought his actions through. Then she watches in horror as Drew turns and starts to choke Marty, eventually throwing him on the ground.

He moves so fast, she doesn't see him leave the room. Marty is coughing on the floor and she moves to help him stand.

"Are you all right?"

He nods, still coughing. "He's cracked. Do we even know for sure he was with the Elders? Seems more like he's been with the Fury."

No. "No. It can't be."

"Merrill, he's making evil-you look like a pile of kittens. We need to talk to Murdoch."

Even as she shakes, still stunned from the aftermath of Drew's attack, she refuses to believe Marty's words. "No. He needs time."

"He needs something else besides time." His voice is angry and his expression harsh as he pushes away from her. "Wake up, Merrill. If he isn't kissing you off, he's forcing himself on you. You think you're destined for that?"

As he stalks away, Merrill wonders if it's true.

Much later, when Drew comes to her, smelling of blood, fear and loss, she ignores him. She refuses to look up at him as he places the rose on her novel.

~~~~

"You ok, Merrill?"

She's still trying to read, ignoring the rose Drew gave her. It's by her side now, rather than obscuring the words on the page. They're words she's been reading over and over without absorbing.

"I'm not sure."

Marty crouches down in front of her, picking up the rose as he does so. "A rose. Drew trying to convince you he's still honourable?" There's a slight sneer in his voice.

"I suppose. He seemed contrite."

"Of course he did." Marty pushes himself up quickly and steps away from her. "He attacked you, Merrill! He nearly tore off my head." Unconsciously, Marty's hand strays to his neck, and Merrill can't help but watch as his fingers slide over the bruises. He's pressing inwards and wincing a little, and she wants to reach out, pull his hand away from his throat.

Instead she sits there, willing her hand to keep still. "I know. I'm sorry you were involved."

"I'm not. He's had it coming, from before he even got shipped off to the Elders." He comes close again, and his voice is softer, the way it had been before Drew walked back into the school. "I could give you roses."

She looks at the flower in his hand, the way the petals are already curling around the edges. "I don't want flowers from you." Too late she realises how harsh the words sound. Marty's expression is briefly stricken, then he covers with a blank look and cruel words.

"No, you should save yourself for your precious Drew.  Maybe next time he'll listen when you tell him to get off you." He turns and starts to walk away, and Merrill's on her feet before she even thinks about it.  Her book tumbles to the floor.

"Marty! Wait. I didn't --" He's still walking, and she moves forward, blocking his exit. "The words -- they sounded wrong."

"Yeah, Merrill, we all know how bad you are with words. I know what you meant."

"No, you don't. I meant I don't need roses from you. I don't want them." She smiles. "They're artifice. They wither and die. They're used to make apologies when someone is too cowardly to speak."

There's a slight pause, then, "Yeah?" He's smiling at her, his rare smile with nothing hard behind it.

"Yes." She reaches up and brushes her fingers across his throat. "Are you hungry? I have leftover rations. They'll help you heal."

He laughs, the small, self-deprecating sound she's growing familiar with. "A dinner date, Merrill?"

Moving her hand to cup his face briefly, she inclines her head delicately. It's a movement she's seen Essie use to enchant Karl. "I could find some candles."

"You're serious."

For a moment, she's struck with fear that he hasn't been serious. That she has been part of another of the games he plays with all of them. But his expression is too open, too like the way he once looked at Essie when he thought no one would see.

"What about Drew?" Even as he questions her, his hand is moving to ghost through her hair.

"Drew only ever hurts me. Perhaps he likes it." It's the first time she's wondered if it were true, but the thought hits her hard.

"What about destiny, Merrill?"

She doesn't have the answers. What she wants right now is to sit with Marty, to savour the way he makes her feel. She wants to taste his skin again, rather than simply remember. "I don't know."

Marty's fingers tighten in her hair, and she reaches out to take his free hand. "No guarantees?"

"I suppose not."

His expression is guarded, almost cold, but he doesn't step away. "Love the one you're with?"

His scent is warmth wrapped in anticipation and a little sadness.  Gently, Merrill squeezes his hand. "Perhaps more." She leans forward a little, her forehead pressed lightly against his chest. It's comfortable, but after a moment he pushes her away.

"You going to find those candles?"

She laughs. How uncharacteristically romantic. She hadn't thought her words would be taken seriously. Essie would tease him mercilessly. "All right."

Stacey was cool enough to listen to me blather about Merrill, Marty and Vampire High. She also beta read this, because she is a super-star cool cat. And I do not say such things lightly.