I opened my eyes, very slowly. The room was unnaturally bright, and I closed my eyes again rapidly. I decided to keep my eyes shut for a while until I figured out where the fuck I was and how I got there. Let's see... I went to a bar last night, and I had a few drinks. And then a few more, and some more after that. Good old Miles. And then, because I'm not an idiot, I took some more Vicodin to ease the inevitable hangover, and some more for good luck. And then... Well, that's where things get a little hazy.

I'm pretty sure I fell off the barstool at some point, but someone was there to catch me. I'm almost positive it was Cullen. Now, what was he doing there? He doesn't seem to be the drinking sort. Coming to think of it, I don't think he eats, either. At least, I've never seen him do so. Kind of odd, actually.

All right, so Cullen intercepted my impending head-on collision with a stone floor. And I do remember him kind of inhaling me in that strange way and swearing at me. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what he said. And then something about a lethal mix of alcohol and Vicodin. And then he actually yelled at Miles the barman for letting me drink too much when he must have known I was taking medications, and Miles looked almost as pale as Cullen.

And then...

And then, this is where my blurry memories get totally weird. I seem to remember Cullen sort of swooping me up and carrying me out into the night air, and then a sensation of moving insanely fast. And then all of a sudden I was back in my apartment. I was lying in bed, and Cullen's golden eyes were clouded with worry. He was stroking my hair, and his pale hand was trembling. Then he whispered that I was going to die. And I remember him saying something about me being a fucking idiot. "You are so amazingly brilliant," he said, "and you have the ability to save so many lives, and yet you throw it all away like this... For nothing." Yep, I'm pretty sure that's what he said. I told him to stop being a moron, and that I would be fine, but I was actually not feeling all that great at that point. In fact, I don't remember ever feeling quite this bad before, including that time at Thanksgiving when Cuddy tricked me into eating tofu turkey. Perhaps I really was dying... But I sure as hell wasn't going to die with an unsolved mystery on my hands.

I grabbed Cullen and told him that the least he could do for a dying man was to tell me what his condition was, the mysterious cause of all his bizarre symptoms. And he smiled the most beautiful smile imaginable, and then he told me. Now, what was it he said? I remember that it made perfect sense at the time. It was something that explained everything, including the hardness of his arm, his obsession with my blood, and his acute sense of smell... but what was it? Damn, if only I could remember! It was something really unusual, but very obvious at the same time... Oh, well, it will come back to me.

And then I felt something exquisitely cool against my face, and it was him. He was kissing my face gently, with icy lips. A little strange, but he did think I was dying, after all. People do tend to get emotional over impending death. And then I remember... No, that part must have been a dream. I firmly kicked the hazy memory of my own fevered kisses against his deliciously cool lips to the back of my brain, with the other drunken crap I keep back there. That did not happen!

But I do remember Cullen whispering that he couldn't bear to lose me. "I have always been so rational and in control of myself," he said softly, "until I met you... Perhaps that was what it was like for Edward when he met Bella, and for Esme the first time she saw Charlie. This sudden madness, a world turned upside down... No, I will not let you die."

And then he did the strangest thing. He bent over me, and I felt his cold lips against my neck, and then... He bit my neck. Kind of kinky, but since I was officially shit-faced drunk, I didn't really mind all that much. Part of my brain registered that the bite was rather deep, and that it would probably have hurt a hell of a lot if there hadn't been so much of that sweet Vicodin swimming through my body.

And then Cullen pulled away and stood there watching me anxiously for a while. Then, apparently satisfied that I wasn't going to die right away or jump up and bite him back, he patted my head gently. "Now get some sleep," he whispered. "When you wake up, things will be different..."

I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, my dreams punctuated every now and then by a throbbing sensation from my neck.

Well, as it turned out, Cullen had been completely wrong. I didn't die. As if thirty-eight Vicodin could really have harmed anyone... Wait, I can't believe I suddenly remembered, with perfect clarity, precisely how many of those babies I had taken the day before! Hah! And Cuddy thought I was going cause permanent damage to my brain by taking too much Vicodin...

My brain seemed to be working fine. In fact, it was working better than ever. Everything seemed so ridiculously easy all of a sudden. Last week, I was puzzled by a patient with an odd skin rash. But now the answer was glaringly obvious: He had this cell phone practically glued to his ear during most of his appointment; he was allergic to the nickel in the cell phone, of course. Duh. How could I have missed that before? And the guy with the lizard-like skin the day before that had river blindness, caused by the bite of the blackfly. His vision is not affected yet, but he will go blind soon unless we give him a dose of ivermectin. Wow. That was easy.

I felt great. No hangover at all, which was quite remarkable. In fact, my whole body felt a lot better than it used to. It took me a while to pinpoint exactly what was different, but then it suddenly hit me: No pain! Well, apart from a light throbbing at my neck, a reminder of Cullen's playful bite the night before. I shook my head. I really had to point out to him that he was wasting his time with this hopeless crush on me. I had to get around to telling him that I'm not gay. At some point.

No pain! I jumped up and tried my leg just to make sure. Damn! Not only was there no pain - my leg also seemed strong, as if it had re-grown its atrophied muscles overnight. I guess a good night's sleep really can work wonders. I had not felt this excellent in a very long time, if ever. I felt strength surge through my body, and my mind was ready to solve the most intricate medical mysteries in the twinkle of an eye. It felt as if I remembered every book and every article I've ever read, effortlessly, as if my brain had suddenly had an extra memory chip installed. Cool! For once, I couldn't wait to go to work.

But first, I really had to do something about... breakfast? No, that wasn't it. The nagging sensation I felt wasn't hunger, but something similar. Oh, yes, that was it: Thirst. I was really, really thirsty...