Blind To Love

By: SleepyLotus

A/N: I apologize for the Henry/OC chapter, (I'm not usually a fan myself) but I wanted some contrast and perspective for Henry with someone completely opposite of Vicki. Our beloved P.I. will show in later chaps. Cheers!

Chapter 1

Henry had barely risen from his day rest, when his cell phone rang upon the bedside table, screen flashing an unfamiliar number. He was not sure why, but a sudden sense of foreboding filled him, at the prospect of answering it. The vampire nearly let it go to voicemail, until at the last moment a curious impulse overcame him.

"This is Fitzroy."

"Henry, this is Mike Cellucci."

Silence, long and pregnant. What the devil was Cellucci doing, calling him?

"Is there something I can help you with, detective?" The words were polite enough, but the tone cold as a winter in Svalbard.

"I know you don't really want to talk to me, but it's about Vicki."

At the sound of her name, Henry's heart beat, just once, an adrenaline surge coursing through his veins. Ghosts of the past ambushing him, plucking painfully at his heartstrings.

"Is she alright?" asked Henry quietly. Was she ever, really? That woman was always sticking her nose into something. No sense of self preservation what so ever. Too brave, too hard-headed, too--

"She isn't in any trouble, if that's what you mean. For once… But…" Cellucci sighed, obviously reluctant to even be speaking to the vampire he jealously loathed. "It's her eyesight. It's gone drastically downhill, Fitzroy. She's pretty much blind now."

Henry felt his heart clench with the thought. The tragedy. The injustice of the universe. "I am very sorry to hear that, Mike, but I'm not sure what that could possibly have to do with me now."

He regretted sounding cold, but what could he do for her? She'd chosen her path. She hadn't chosen him. He had a new life now, a new city, new house.

New lover.

The thought of Juliana filled Henry's heart with a lightness he had not known in years. To be loved and accepted by someone so thoroughly -- it was more than he could have ever hoped for in this new chapter of his life. He and Juliana were so happy, so ridiculously happy. She was so open and giving and loving -- creative and curious and playful -- she inspired him every day.

And that was the way love should be, without fear. With open hearts.

They were good for each other, things were working for now. They fed each other's creativity, he was drawing better than he had in years, and she painting and writing. And the lovemaking…just the briefest thought sent a shiver over his skin.

No, he wouldn't be rearranging his life for Vicki Nelson anymore than he already had.

As though sensing that he was about to hang up the phone, Mike groped, "Henry, wait, please! Don't hang up!"
Still there was silence, but no tell tale click, so Cellucci assumed he'd retained Henry's attention for a few moments longer.

"She's shut me out, Henry. She locks herself up in that apartment now, locked away from the world. She's dying slowly, Henry. Maybe not directly from the disease, but its just as real."

"And just what do you think I can do to help, Cellucci?" asked Henry angrily. "Storm the doors? Force her to drink my blood, so that she may rise again and be healed? I'm sure that would go over really well."

There was a silence on the other end of the line, only Mike's breathing signaling that he was still there. Henry could nearly sense the detective's apprehension, his embarrassment, over the phone. But perhaps most telling, his disappointment.

That had been exactly what Cellucci had had in mind. Were things so bad with Vicki, that he would be so desperate to save her? He would give her up to vampirism, to see her saved?

"Have you discussed this with Vicki?" Henry asked quietly, the undertones of anger heating his words.

"No," Mike reluctantly answered. "But I thought that maybe if you just showed up… there could be a chance."

A bitter and ironic laughter escaped Henry's lips. "Just showed up. It sounds as though she's stubborn as ever. What could possibly make her want me now, if she sent me away a year ago?"

"God damn it, brat prince, this isn't about you," grumbled Cellucci. "She misses you, and she needs your help. Come see her at least. If she tells you to go to hell, well, then at least you tried. Believe me, pal, you are my last resort for her."

Henry's lip curled, the pain of losing her he'd managed to bury deep inside rearing its ugly little head once more within his heart. She missed him. Did she really? Or would Mike say anything, to get Henry back into Toronto again? It was impossible to know. That is, without showing up on her doorstep.

And what of Juliana? How would she take such a thing? I love you, but a former lover of mine, well, almost lover, who spurned me, and could never really allow herself to love me, is sick, and I was wondering if you might mind terribly if I leave for a year to make her into a vampire? I'll be back before you know it…

Juliana would be heartbroken, he was sure. And that was a price he was not willing to pay.

Torn, pained by the prospect, Henry shook his head adamantly, but realizing Mike could not see it, said, "I'm sorry, Cellucci, but I'm afraid I can't be of service."

He hung up the phone, to find his lover leaning against the doorframe of their bedroom, the question of who was that? written across her fair features. Her blond hair fell to her waist in waves, a camisole and boxer shorts leaving very little of her voluptuous curves to the imagination. He'd gone back to pretty again, his usual artsy type, her pale skin and classical features fit for a renaissance angel. A safety net for a broken heart? Perhaps, or just a tried and true formula.

Henry felt the sudden urge to grab that soft golden hair by the fistfulls, and he held his arms out to her in invitation.

She did not ask what was wrong, she wasn't one for redundant questions, and they didn't pry each other for details about every little thing. Juliana knew something bothered her lover, but that he would reveal it to her in good time, if he wished. She merely provided the comfort she sensed he needed, standing between his legs, drawing his head to rest on her breast, fingers sliding through his curls.

How much had she heard of his conversation? He'd told her about the events in Toronto, why he'd fled to Saint Louis. With enough information, he was sure she could put together the pieces, and he wasn't sure he wanted her to.

Languidly, Henry raised his head to plant a kiss upon the swell of her breast, scraping his teeth against her.

"Hungry?" she asked, voice gone breathy with desire in a matter of moments. Always, she wanted him.

"For you? Starving." The vampire swept her up in his arms, rolling her to the bed to devour her with kisses. He suddenly felt very grateful they had the entire night ahead of them; he had a feeling they were going to need it. Though feeding and lovemaking were not always inseparable, that night he needed her fiercely, all of her. The past weighed heavily upon him, and he sought refuge from those ghosts in her sweet charms, her secret treasure.

He needed to remind himself of all he had here, and not to stray to thoughts of what might have been.

It didn't matter now.

He almost believed it.

A quiet sadness filled Juliana's large blue eyes as she gazed up at him, the turmoil reflected in his own stare that he tried to hide as he loved her.

She almost believed it too.

That she could hold on to him. That she maybe even had some right to the marvel that was Henry Fitzroy, that he belonged to her, and not to the world.

But if she'd learned anything in this short, crazy life, it was that the sweetest love can never last. In the end, everyone must pay it forward; she had a feeling her turn was fast approaching. And so she fought to enjoy every moment she had left with him, to not succumb to grief and revel in the sensations his practiced body evoked in hers, to absorb the love he felt for her into her breaking heart. These were the memories that would give her strength, in the loneliness to come, she knew.

When the sorrow and regret threatened to consume her, her demons waiting in the dark, she would drive them away with this torch of remembrance. She would hold it high and declare, once, she had been loved by the vampire prince Henry FitzRoy. He had found her worthy, and for that gift she would always treasure his memory.

But she was not the only one, she knew, and suspected someone else, the one before her who had infuriated and enchanted him so, now needed him more than she.

I love you, Henry, so I will let you go, she thought sadly as they lay in the quiet after their fevered embrace. His long fingers slid through her tresses, tracing lazy circles across her back that caused her to shiver with pleasure. She was faintly aware of an ache in her neck, two small fang marks, but it was a sweet pain she paid no mind. Though he touched her lovingly, she knew his mind was elsewhere, a place far north of their sleepy Midwestern city, and a woman whose eyesight had betrayed her.

And perhaps if you love me enough, you will come back to me someday.