He woke much sooner than normal. The unnatural suddenness of it left him disoriented. A low humming surrounded him in the complete darkness, an unfamiliar sound. Where was the candlelight? He was curled in a fetal position, unable to stretch out full length. And he was alone. Wait. Concentrate. Thoughts began to gel. The hum was from the wheels on the highway. The dark, closely confined space was familiar, though not experienced recently. When had he had reason to, recently? He was alone because… they were moving on, and she was taking them there. Resigned to whatever unknown length of time might remain, he moved his head to shake the hair away from his face and collided with the softness beneath. Smiling, he remembered her insistence on putting a pillow there despite his own insistence it was unnecessary, that he wouldn't even notice it. Remembering the look on her face as he finally acquiesced, he realized it was a different kind of comfort that concerned her but this was all she could provide at the time. He closed his eyes, or maybe they were still open. There wasn't even enough ambient light for him to tell. He tried to concentrate on the darkness, the humming, and focus on whatever would lie ahead. He'd moved on so many times, too many to recall all of them. In the past century he'd always traveled alone. Before that, his only companions were joined by blood: the master and the converted. This time his companion was joined to him by another kind of blood. His choice, and hers, but only one of them would last forever. And this time so much of what would once have been left painfully behind was gone before they made their escape. Tracy, who'd been right. He could have trusted her. Vachon, who did trust her, whose loss left Maura in the kind of pain he couldn't hope to ease; it would have to heal itself. And Natalie… he'd stopped himself, on the edge of no return he managed to pull away and deliver her, anonymously, to the nearest ER. He'd reached one last time for one last theory, believed one last time that he wanted it, deranged by grief and guilt and forgetting yet again what an impossible fantasy it was. But he'd managed to remember in time, before destroying the one who deserved his love possibly more than any other even if she'd relinquished all hope of having it. Natalie would wake abandoned, heartbroken, but she'd survive. LaCroix alone would remain virtually unchanged. Having left in disgust as Natalie's final plea was answered, LaCroix would continue as always. A final phone call to the precinct from a pay phone at the edge of the city, just before sunrise, just before retiring into darkness to wait for what came next. Waiting, being the moved rather than the mover, was also unfamiliar. Janette… would they find her, where they were going? If not this place, maybe the next?
Of the two of them, Maura had been able to recover herself sooner. Nick had lost his partner, had nearly killed his best friend. Who was she kidding; she knew she'd never completely understand the depth of what was between Nick and Natalie. Except maybe what a painful tearing sensation they'd both be left with, for who knows how long. She'd come home that night to the empty loft just after Nick had taken Natalie to the hospital; LaCroix hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut when he arrived at Raven. She hadn't known about Tracy until Nick burst in seconds ahead of sunrise. Too much loss, it was too much to get her head around in such a few days. She was still reeling from Vachon's destruction, still trying to think of a way to let Tracy know she wasn't the only one who'd been aware of his true nature. Maura hoped at least her deeper knowledge of what he was might help her convince Tracy she couldn't have saved him. But now Tracy was gone, too. Suddenly all the talk she'd heard about "moving on", from Janette and Nick and even Vachon, what they'd said about knowing when it was time, all of it fell into place and made inarguable sense. For an entire miserable day and night Nick holed up in the loft and Maura struggled between being there for him and knowing when to leave him to himself. Nick emailed his report to the captain who of course encouraged some days off. LaCroix didn't question her absence from Raven. She supposed it didn't matter that much to him either way, though she suspected he was aware of his son's torment.
The second night they sat side by side on the sofa, looking at one another in the dimness of the living room lit only by candles and firelight. Nick's rage of confusion and grief had settled into a controlled sadness. It had been nearly a decade since he'd felt this kind of pull to go, and he didn't know whether Maura would understand. She hadn't the last time he'd considered it. All he knew was that he wasn't up to the debate, not this time. She broke the silence first.
"Remember that time before we went away, I said I knew the day would come when it'd be time to go?" She couldn't quite complete the thought, but when he took her hand she continued in a shaky voice, "There's so little left to stay for now, and so many questions to face if you stayed long enough to let them ask."
Nick stared at the fire but gave Maura's hand a squeeze. "And don't forget the bridge I burned."
She tugged on his hand and he faced her again. "You almost made it across this time, that counts for something."
"I almost killed the best friend I've had in half a lifetime. Half my lifetime." His voice was hollow with self-reproach.
Now Maura reached to take his other hand. "But you didn't. And you trusted Natalie, like you'd never let yourself do before, you did it this time and she has to know it. Even if you never see her again, and you know that's not a sure thing, you both know you finally trusted her enough…" Enough for what? Maura knew if it had all been possible, if what Natalie proposed (what Maura had regarded as a third-hand vampire legend, as unreliable as rumors of… Les Prisées?) had worked it would have changed the life she had here with Nick, maybe even ended it. Was it just that it was safe to praise him now? Now that it no longer posed a risk, she had the luxury of acknowledging Nick's loss.
"I know what you're trying to say. " He paused, then kissed the palm of her hand. "Doucette, this must be so confusing for you."
Maura took her hand away then pressed it to the center of Nick's chest. "Not so much. I think I always knew there was room for all of us in that silent heart of yours." Room for her and Natalie, and Janette, and every undeniable love that came before. She stood to turn on a couple of lamps, then blew out the candles and turned to face him.
"So. Where to now?" It was his entire incarnation that would change, so the choice should be his.
Suddenly Nick felt overwhelmed with weariness greater than any he could remember. "I've been choosing lives for eight hundred years. I'm so tired of choosing…" As he trailed off Maura went to him and bent to kiss the edge of his jaw just under his right ear, where she always went to ease the hurting that words couldn't touch.
"Then I'll see what Aristotle can come up with." She went to the computer and sent an email.
"Aristotle: Moving on. Somewhere quiet."
She looked over her shoulder at Nick, who had moved to the floor and lay staring into the fireplace.
"Very quiet. The country, maybe somewhere that might remind Nick of better days and remind me that there's something out there besides cities and bars. It doesn't have to be far, just far enough. I don't mind driving. Thanks, ML."
She sighed and clicked "Send", then joined Nick where he lay with his chin propped on his folded arms. She settled alongside him, one hand burrowing under the hair that curled over the back of his collar, thumb rubbing gently back and forth.
"Next stop, anywhere but here," she promised. When he turned his head to the side she could see the fire reflected in a red wash of unshed tears.
"Oh doucette, I hope so."
