"I've seen the seven wonders of the world
I've seen the beauty of diamonds and pearls
But they ain't nothin baby
Your love amazes me
"She should be fine if she rests and gets enough fluids."
Vachon couldn't suppress a smile. "I know the feeling..." His smile turned grim as he reached out a hand to touch her hair. "She didn't deserve this."
"Nobody does." Instantly Natalie regretted the harshness in her voice. He'd saved her life, after all. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Why did she believe that emotions were solely a mortal trait, along with kindness and loyalty?
Vachon's smile tightened along with his voice. "Of course. I'll go downstairs and see what Janette is up to."
(Safe, chapter 6)
Don't you ever doubt this love of mine
You're the only one for me
You give me hope, you give me reason
You give me something to believe in
Forever faithfully
"Oh shit, Vash," she sobbed, "I've fucked up everything so bad, I don't know what to do anymore. I did something so terrible, and so many people are paying for it, I'll just never be able to make it up to them."
He considered this as she clung to his shoulder, petting her head a bit awkwardly. "Well maybe you don't have to, did you ever think of that? Maybe it's because I've been alive so long, and I'm gonna live forever if I can avoid pissing off the wrong people and stay outta natural light, but it just doesn't make sense to keep score like that because like the bookies say in the long run the best you can do is break even. No matter how great you are or how many times you fuck up, sooner or later you only break even."
The tears stopped then as she raised her head to look him in the eye. "You think so?" She'd never really looked at it in terms of even a mortal lifetime.
"How do you think Janette and Nick have stayed together after so long? Yeah they had their knock-down drag-outs, they fucked up and did some really, stupid/bad/ugly things. But they've been around long enough to see how the lines smooth out in the long run. The really long run. It only looks like the edge of a cliff to you because you're looking at such a small picture. If you back away far enough, oh several hundred years or so, the drop looks a whole lot shorter."
"But I can't do that, can I? I don't have several hundred years to see it like that."
"Well can't you just take my word for it? When you wake up in the middle of the night you can't see in the dark like I can, but you still know you're at home, right? You know Nick's there with you even when you can't see him, right?"
She nodded, beginning to feel dense in the face of his vampire common-sense, something Nick hadn't been able to offer because he was as deep inside the chaos as she was.
"All right, then. Quit going mental over how to 'fix' things and leave it to the ones that know how, if they do. Hell, something breaks on the 'stang, you think I try to fix it myself?"
This triggered a laugh, as Maura pictured Vachon's panic when anything went amiss with his beloved '66 cherry-red Mustang. "Okay, I think I get it."
"Good." He gave her another hug. "You gotta quit worrying me like this, Luna. It just doesn't have to be this hard, you know? You'd never make it as an immortal, you have no sense of perspective."
(Perfect Justice, chapter 2)
I've seen a sunset that could make you cry
The colors of a rainbow reach across the sky
The moon in all its phases
But your love amazes me
Vachon had insisted on coming to Oshawa the moment Janette informed the staff that Maura was alive and recovering form her ordeal. When Nick returned from one of his "camouflage tours" (designed to fool the hospital staff into thinking he was variously visiting the men's room, the coffee shop, even the chapel) he found Vachon standing at Maura's bedside, holding the hand that wasn't hooked up to tubes, examining the bandaged former needle site with an expression of mixed sadness and rage. Over time Vachon and Maura had settled into a mutual regard bordering on sibling attachment, not particularly discussed but developing of its own accord in ways that seldom happened between vampires and anyone, really, mortal or immortal. So much of a vampire's life was by meticulous design, Nick was certain that the difference of this friendship and the fact of its subtle arrival was a source of delight to Vachon, though Maura never seemed aware of that. To her he was a friend, with the good humor and concern and knowledge of her like that a (much) older brother might have. They harassed, supported, and watched out for one another accordingly. Vachon possessed the wisdom and history of his kind, but retained remnants of his mortal heart and noble philosophies from his long ago origins. Vampires tend toward character traits as mortals do, and have millennia to develop into them, and Javier Vachon had over the centuries tended toward the philosophical and poetic. For that reason he never quite shed the ready link to simpler emotions that many of his kind could barely remember possessing.
"This mortal makes our 'monstrosity' look like amateur night," Vachon told Nick, whose presence of course he read almost before he entered the room.
"We won't know why he did it until she can tell us. So far no luck in tracking him down, but it's only a matter of time."
Vachon turned, still holding Maura's hand, to face Nick with a stare that was paradoxically cold and fiery at the same time. "It doesn't matter why. And if your Metro police can't find him, there are others who can."
"The Community must stay out of this," Nick warned, "he's a mortal, and he'll pay via mortal justice."
The youthful illusion of Vachon's dark good looks evaporated, replaced by ageless bitterness. "'Justice', Nick? Justice is just vengeance sterilized, with that dangerous rush of satisfaction safely removed."
(Past Imperfect, chapter 9)
I've prayed for miracles that never came
Got down on my knees out in the pouring rain
But only you could save me
Your love amazes me
"What'll it be, lady?" The dark haired and darker-eyed bartender barely looked up from his bottles.
"You this hard up for cash?"
He shrugged. "Even Inca gold can't stand up to Toronto rents forever."
"Vash, come on," when Maura reached out and took his hand, he looked her in the eye.
"I figured it'd be nice to see the payoff. Even if I know it's not my fault, isn't it okay for me to be here to see that?"
She wanted to tell him no, it wasn't okay, she wanted to say it wasn't any of his fault or any of his business, but she couldn't. Maybe because he was right. Like everyone who had had a part in holding her together, he had the right to see the "closure", to quote shrinkspeak. Even if he had screwed up along the way. Hell, none of it would have happened if she hadn't screwed up, and left everyone else to rescue her. How low could she be to blame him for having tried, and gotten it wrong? How could she blame him for anything? When she looked at Vachon, she saw family. What he ate (or drank) for dinner didn't matter a damn.
"Hello, you could've just asked. I'd have gotten you an invite."
"Yeah, but then Janette would've lost out on a promo op," Vachon indicated a small sign posted above the bar. "Beverage services provided compliments of Raven, in recognition of tonight's honorees."
Maura shook her head and laughed. For all of Janette's unquestionable compassion, she did know how to do well by doing good.
"So what'll it be?" Vachon repeated. Other customers stood waiting nearby.
"Just this." Maura seized Vachon by his velvet bow tie and leaned across the low bar to plant a full-frontal smooch, simultaneously pulling a dollar from the pocket of her black satin jeans to stuff into the pocket Vachon's vest.
"Tip big, folks, a good bartender is hard to find," she told the amused bystanders before running back to join Nick where he still stood waiting on the dance floor. Vachon turned his smile to an elegantly dressed older woman, who immediately blushed.
(Heroes and Demons, chapter 6)
Your love amazes me
Nodding wordlessly Vachon opened his mouth with a soft hiss, fangs extended, and buried his face in Maura's palm, drawing from her with surprising strength. She'd expected something subtle, akin to a kiss of friendship, but what she felt was the same deep sensation of joining she'd experienced the first time with Nick. Not entirely the same, she wasn't awash in light and color, but the euphoric rush of warmth was the same. With one hand Vachon gripped her wrist, feeding with increasing pleasure, as with his other arm he drew them closer together. He moved nearer her throat where he could hear her pulse more strongly even through the mad rushing in his ears. Flowers, she tasted like flowers, he was consuming utopia. He managed to pull his mouth away from her hand, but couldn't keep from pressing his face into her neck and opening his mouth to feel the throbbing that threatened to deafen him.
"Javier," Maura managed to gasp, and weakly pressed against his head. She meant to push him away, why was she pulling him closer?
With a half moan, half growl, Vachon jerked his head back and thrust Maura away so abruptly she fell to the ground. She saw him double over as if in pain, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth, eyes wild and glowing and locked onto hers.
"Vachon," she scrambled to her knees and reached for him, "are you all right, I'm sorry, I didn't know…"
He shoved her away from him again and struggled for control. He'd known about her, of course he had, but still had been completely unprepared. After several long minutes he seemed to recover himself. She kept her distance, squatting in the shadows until his eyes returned to normal.
"That was very," he shook his head wildly, hissed again, and shuddered once. "…reckless of you."
Nick's words, after that first time she'd persuaded him to something he'd always believed was too dangerous to consider. This wasn't so different, though she'd expected it to be.
"Vash, I'm so sorry, I didn't know," she repeated uselessly, remaining where she was on the ground.
Now Vachon took Maura's hand, pulled her up to sit next to him again, and draped his arm around her neck to bring her face near his.
"You never do, do you, not completely. It will be your undoing, Luna, if you don't take care." Then he sat back and shook his head slowly as if to clear his thoughts. "Well, it's done."
"Done?"
He turned to press his forehead lightly against hers. "I'm yours for life. Or what passes for it. Now if you don't mind I'm going to go find someone who'll help me feed the rest of this thirst you've encouraged. If I don't see you before you go… te amo mi amiga, Luna loca." He kissed her once, deeply, and let her go.
(Heroes and Demons, chapter 9)
I've prayed for miracles that never came
"Vachon. I heard him… I felt him call me. I felt him, somewhere…"
"You had a dream, Maura." He'd never managed to think of a way to reach that part of her that had been so wounded by Vachon's destruction. Logic was an insult, and comfort seemed beyond his reach.
"No," she insisted, " I heard him, I felt him. Nick, Divia was 'destroyed' too and she came back, isn't it possible?"
He reached an arm around her shoulders, letting her continue to scan the moonlit expanse between the barn and the house. "No, that was different. Vachon is gone; Tracy buried him next to Screed." He saw Maura's left fist was clenched tightly, as if protecting the place where Vachon had joined them that one time. He took it gently in his hands and held it between them.
"You feel him because he bound you together by blood, when you were afraid of losing him before we went away. It's a link that lasts even when one of you is gone. In my kind it can take centuries to fade. " He didn't have the heart to tell her it never actually did, but that vampires could tell whether or not the link was a reality or merely the echo of a broken connection. Maura would never share that ability.
It was as if she'd read his mind. "Then I'll always be looking for him, won't I?" She looked desperately into the distance and started to cry. "I'll always feel him calling and wonder why he's not there."
Nick put his arms around her and tried to explain, "No, love, you'll remember who he was to you more clearly than any mortal is able to remember anyone they've loved and lost. It's a gift, doucette, not a curse."
"I don't believe you," she sobbed.
(Moving On, chapter 3, continuing)
