Bright sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, and Fyn cursed inwardly. Why hadn't he closed the curtains last night? With a soft grumble, he tried to pull the blanket over his head to escape the nasty light. His head felt like a test area for ion bombs. And he had a nasty ache in his lower back as well. Probably from that stupid fall yesterday. Forests, that had been the longest and strangest day of his life. And ending it with a drinking party hadn't been the brightest of ideas, either. Thankfully, someone had taken him home.

"Fyn?"

The lifebearer started as a familiar low voice sounded in his ear. He turned around to face Eondar who lay right next to him in bed. The sire smiled gently and a bit shyly. "Good morning."

"Uhhh... morning. Didn't you find your own bed yesterday?" Fyn asked.

"That's one way of putting it." The photographer frowned. "Don't you remember?"

"Remember what? Oh damn. I should have told you. I'm the worst kind of drunk: the kind that seems to be totally sober until he passes out cold. That's why I never drink alone on the rare occasions I want to get wasted," Fyn groaned and rubbed his forehead. "But last night must have been really bad. I totally blacked out. I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

Fyn hadn't it thought possible for someone as tanned as Eondar to get this pale. "Well, you..."

The journalist sat up in bed and grimaced at the painful movement. Only now he realized that he wasn't wearing any clothes - and neither was Eondar. A terrible suspicion invaded his still fogged mind. "What... what did I do? Tell me!" he asked urgently.

"You... well, I brought you home, and you really seemed completely lucid. Then you... kissed me and asked me if I wanted you, and I just... well, I went along. But then you fell asleep right before we could do anything, and since you didn't let go of me, I stayed here..." The sire slowly backed away from Fyn, hastily grabbing his pants that lay within reach.

Fyn just stared at him for a moment as the pieces fell into place. Then he exploded. "You dumbass! How could you give in so easily? Were you that desperate that you'd take the next guy that throws himself at you in a drunken stupor, even if it's your colleague and room-mate?"

If it was possible, Eondar blanched even more. "Fyn..."

"Get out!" the lifebearer yelled.

Without another word, the sire complied. He quickly grabbed his clothes and exited the bedroom.

Once he was alone, Fyn tried to get out of bed. He gritted his teeth and managed to get to the bathroom to draw himself a hot bath. While he waited for the tub to be filled, he checked his body for any signs of lovemaking, but there were none. The pain in his butt stemmed from a black and blue mark - the result of his fall yesterday when he had bumped into Othric. Fyn discovered it when he looked at himself in the mirror. Apparently, Fyn really had fallen asleep last night before anything serious could happen.

But that wasn't the problem, although Fyn was relieved. He had always wanted his first time to be special, and losing his virginity during a drunken blackout would only count as especially horrible. The problem was Eondar. What the hell had the man been thinking? Apparently, the sire wasn't really picky when it came to his flings, and Fyn had been a convenient opportunity. The anger over that fact was even bigger than his disappointment in the man. And here he had hoped that they had become friends somehow.

The lifebearer stared at his naked reflection in the mirror. The blond locks, free from their usual ponytail, curled wildly around his face and fell onto his shoulders and back in a tousled mess. His face was a bit pale with dark shadows under his eyes. No, Fyn had to admit, he really didn't look his usual, cavity-inducing cute self, but more like a lost little fairy thrown from a storybook into the real world. Absolutely pathetic.

There was no way on Wyndrah that Eondar had any real interest in him.

After a long hot bath, Fyn felt much better - at least physically, although his head still throbbed. His hurt feelings were another matter. When he entered the kitchen, he found breakfast ready and a note from Eondar. "I'm moving into a hotel, and I'll be asking Jordan to assign me to another department. I hope you can forgive me."

Fyn crumpled the note in his hands. Oh no, the photographer wouldn't get away that easily. They had to talk about this, and the lifebearer wanted to know exactly what had happened last night.

A nerve-wracking bus ride that seemed to take forever later and the journalist arrived at the "Valkyrie Times". It was still very early in the morning, but he found Celia at his desk, busily typing away. He had allowed her to use his computer anytime since it was linked to the newspaper's database. She smiled at him. "Good morning, Mr. Sheldon! I hope you don't mind, but I just put the finishing touches on my story about the bonding announcement yesterday. I wrote a tiny note for today's news section yesterday evening, but the gossip page is due for the issue tomorrow and needs a longer story since I got an interview with your friend Mr. Norwell. I hope that's okay? You seemed to be so preoccupied, so I took matters into my own hands."

"Why should I mind? That's what makes a good reporter. I'm sure the article is great, just give it to me to read it over when you're finished, okay?" Fyn answered, silently impressed with her initiative. He really wanted to have this girl as his permanent assistant. "Have you seen Eondar today?" he asked.

Celia nodded. "Yes, he came by a few minutes ago to give me the pictures he took yesterday. I think he went to talk with the Editor-in-Chief."

"Oh no, he doesn't!" With a grim expression, the lifebearer rushed out of his office and practically sprinted down the corridor. The Editor-in-Chief's office was located at the far end. The door was closed, and just as Fyn was about to knock, he heard voices from inside the office. The journalist leaned closer to the door to listen.

"...difficult situation. What do I tell the Alliance now? They just got a perfect surveillance perimeter set up around Sheldon's apartment and even got some agents in as tenants. Why on Wyndrah did you cross the line, Eondar?" Jordan McKenzie said. His voice sounded a bit strained.

"Do you really think I wanted all of this?" answered Eondar. "Damnit, Jordan, I couldn't help myself and you know why. And I really thought that he liked me. But after what happened to Michael yesterday, I was already considering moving somewhere else. I can't risk endangering Fyn."

McKenzie sighed. "I understand. And with a bit of luck the Alliance will catch those gangsters soon and everything will be over - at least for you. I still have to worry about those damn blackmailers. The Alliance agents have dug for weeks now, but nothing. If I wasn't so worried about all the people in this building, I'd write it off as a prank. Has Sheldon mentioned anything to you yet?"

"No. If this is something about an unpublished article, he's keeping it to himself - although he told me about almost every important thing in his life."

McKenzie sighed again. "I hate this situation. Let's hope the girl finds something in his computer."

"Jordan... why don't we tell him? I'm sure Fyn would help us. He cares deeply about others and wouldn't want to be the cause of trouble." Eondar's deep voice was almost pleading.

"Eondar, you should know him better than me already. He might tell us what we need to know, but then he'd insist on being part of the investigation. He might even involve his sire who's a private investigator. Sheldon might act like he's a tough cookie and he is actually my best reporter, but I don't want to see that tiny thing in the middle of a veritable war. Do you?"

Whatever the photographer was about to answer, Fyn would never know. He pushed the door open with enough force to let it bang against the wall and stomped into the office. "Sir, with all due respect, by "this tiny thing" has been studying Martial Arts for years and knows how to break both your necks with his bare hands. You both tell me what is going on right now or I'll quit my job, walk out of that door and do exactly what you seem to dread: tell others that something big is going on here!"

Both sires looked up in surprise at this ambush. Fyn glared angrily at them; Eondar especially got the most murderous look in history. Finally, Jordan McKenzie held up his hands in defeat. He was an average-looking sire with dark blond hair, and the seriousness of his jacket and tie was always compromised by a pair of bleached jeans. Fyn had been angry at the man almost from the beginning for keeping him from his job, so he never bothered to look a bit closer. Now, he noticed that his Editor-in-Chief looked very stressed and pale.

Jordan and Eondar exchanged glances, and then the Editor-in-Chief nodded in defeat. "Alright. I guess it's no use. Please close the door and have a seat, Mr. Sheldon. But you have to promise me to keep this to yourself, and you have to tell us what we need to know. Otherwise, all our lives might be in danger."

Fyn frowned, but obeyed and closed the door. He didn't sit down, but stood there with his arms crossed. "I'm listening. But I'll decide later if I'll tell you anything... boss."

Jordan looked at his brother-in-law. "I guess you should start with what really happened in Azirus."

To be continued...