She raked her fingers along the sides of her head and then up the nape of her neck gathering the blond hair between her palms as she sat preparing herself. Holding the bundle in one hand she twisted the elastic from her wrist once, twice and finally a third time so that the ponytail hung brushing her shoulders.

Leave it alone she thought as she glanced around the shadowy office. It was early evening and the lowering sun still spilled, swirling with dust motes and as honey colored as her hair, through the slatted blinds of the office. It cast bars of shadow and light that moved slowly across the walls with time's passage. She could hear the cars passing by on the streets beyond and the muted voice of the city winding down another day.

When he was here in Toronto, she was always a little anxious at this time of day, the hours had always slowed to a crawl as she waited for him to return to life, to return to her and allow her to live again.

Not that I could ever admit that to his Royal Highness, she reminded herself. Doesn't matter, I wouldn't do what he wanted so he simply took off like every other man I ever allowed close… Fuck! I can lie to the rest of them, but I can't really lie to myself. He begged me to go but my own sense of obligation made me say no.

Her traitorous memory provided the image of his posture, stiff and hurt at her refusal and the tears standing in his eyes.

'So be it.'

How dare he?

She had been icy cold with anger and hurt for the longest time. Prickly and unapproachable, she had refused his every effort to contact her, refusing his phone calls and voice mails and deleting his e-mails, with a sense of self righteous indignation.

She snubbed his conciliatory gestures over and over, until he had eventually decreased the frequency with which he tried and finally, believing her to have made her intent clear, he had stopped trying altogether.

The calls and voice messages had stopped long ago and then had come the terrible months where there had not been a single ping on her computer from the familiar e-mail address.

At last she could stand the silence no longer and had asked Coreen to assist her in retrieving the deleted e-mail messages.

Dark eyed and solemn, Coreen remained subdued as she had been since that terrible night. In spite of her own pain, Coreen had worked her usual 'magic' and had eventually recovered and copied every deleted e-mail into a folder for Vicki.

Vicki found it an exquisite torture to read them...but not knowing had been worse. She had thought that her heart, so fortified and sheltered within the fortress she had created, was safe. She was wrong and she had been, first touched and then bruised as she saw how the tone of his correspondence had changed over the length of her silence.

Early e-mail messages were conciliatory and caring and as she read them she could hear Henry's voice, he wanted what was best for her, wanted her safe, wanted her with him. He laid bared his ancient soul, and yet his words had fallen short of reaching her uncaring heart.

In the face of her continued silence his tone had first become more desperate and then with time…mournfully resigned. He at last had surrendered to the "punishment she decreed for the decisions he had made almost five hundred years before," and his words had grown cold.

The last e-mail in that folder had informed her that he was settled in Vancouver in a new territory. Toronto he had surrendered to another, older vampire. He advised that Vicki not seek any contact her as she didn't suffer from the "same weaknessfor human companionship that afflicted him."

Though she had tried to kindle her anger, the ashes were cold, no spark remained. Inside she was adrift in a barren landscape, alone. Alone, she felt his absence as a pain in a part of her heart that was lost, like the persistent phantom pain of an amputated limb, a pain which could not be assuaged. She hungered and her pride could no longer sustain her.

Was it only a few weeks ago that she had fallen so low; that with tears in her eyes and half a bottle of whiskey in her gut, she had one evening opened that folder and hit "reply" to that final e-mail? She had typed a single, non committal line—How is Vancouver? She had stared at the blinking cursor at the end of that line for at least an hour. Quickly before she could change her mind she typed, I miss you. V. She hit "send."

If she thought there would be an instantaneous reply, she was disappointed. The clock had read 4:30 am when she had shut down her computer, thinking, that's 1:30 am in Vancouver, he's been up for hours...he's not going to answer. She had crawled almost fully clothed into bed, and hugging the pillow to her chest, fell into haunted and heated dreams that she could not later recall.

Yet the next day when she rose just before noon she discovered a terse e-mail in her inbox. Vancouver is beautiful. Are we talking? H.

There had followed a long chain of forced and hollow written electronic correspondence. Stilted as they were, they were far, far better than those six months of hellish silence. There were many, many hurts and issues that lay between them, but at least there was a 'between them' again.

Now here she sat in front of her computer as her office slowly darkened with the approaching twilight...and half the continent away, as the sun still road high in her zenith, the vampire slept.

Come on Nelson, what's wrong? Is it 'that' time of the month? Her imagination supplied the voice: a Sergeant McNeal, a particularly old school hard-assed instructor from her Academy days. He had a penchant for badgering female recruits, harassing them unmercifully, with chauvinistic comments. She knew now he had been "culling the herd" as he called it, of those cadets both male and female who lacked the tenacity required for a life on the force. In his own brutal way he had been kind, sparing those who quit the far more brutal challenges faced by those who succeeded. When she wanted to motivate herself, she could often hear his voice.

"Coreen," Vicki called in the direction of the milky glass of her office door.

At her desk, Coreen jumped slightly as she quickly closed down the window on her screen. She felt slightly guilty about eavesdropping on Vicki and Henry's e-mail correspondence but her disgust at the both of their stubborn prideful personalities overrode any twinges that her conscience may have given her.

It broke her heart the way that Vicki treated Henry, and yet she was also angry at Henry for leaving, for giving up.

He was almost 500 years old for God's sake. He was a Prince and a Childe of the Night, he was supposed to come riding to the rescue, be big and strong and tough, be able to take anything that Vicki dished out. Right?

Coreen's usual bubbling and hopeful spirit had been much subdued by her possession and the horrific events that followed. Vicki had earned her undying devotion for the terrible sacrifices she had made in order to save Coreen's life and soul. Now Coreen wanted to give back to Vicki, and once she had enough information she would figure out a way to do that.

Henry and Vicki were star crossed lovers, of this Coreen was absolutely sure. And if the stars were not favorable at present, well Coreen vowed somehow she would find a way to move them into alignment.

She was half way across the room to answer the bawled summons when Vicki partially opened the door. With one hand on the door she leaned through saying. "You know what Coreen? I think we're done for today. Just bring me the Anderson file; I want to go over the depositions again. Then you can get outa' here. Leave the invoices until tomorrow."

"Are you sure Vicki, I mean I could hang around a bit, or maybe we could go and get a bite of dinner?" Coreen said as she leaned into the file drawer and retrieved the fat and dog-eared Anderson file.

"No, I'm good," Vicki replied as she took the proffered file, "I'm going to spend an hour or so with 'Jack Anderson' here, she said as she patted the file, "and then I'm going to catch up on some e-mail."

As Coreen drew in her breath to speak, Vicki held up her hand to forestall her.

"I'll grab something to eat on the way home, after all the date I have planned with 'Jack Daniel's later should not be undertaken on an empty stomach," she quipped.

Again she forestalled Coreen's comment, "I'll be fine Coreen, go home."

Coreen recognized the 'it will do you no good to argue' tone in Vicki's voice. She picked up her shoulder bag and grabbing her jacket said, "All right if you're sure. I'll stop at the 'Bucks on the way in tomorrow," and as she was closing the office door, through the shrinking opening she added in a rush, "And I'll bring you a bran muffin as well!"

The door clicked closed before Vicki could protest.

Shaking her head, Vicki crossed back to her desk and dropped the file, ignored, on the top. She lowered herself to the chair seat, and then leaning back brought a hand to her chin to look pensively at her computer screen. Finally she brought her fingers to the keyboard.

Why is it, she thought, that I can't write what I really want to say to him? Wish you were here.