Don't own Vincent. As you can see from the last chapter, NOBODY owns Vincent. Heh.

A/N: Okay, I'm going to have a little rant here. If you're just here for the story, feel free to skip it. Or come back later. But I just got done watching "Vanilla Sky." I haven't been so confused since "Matrix Reloaded." I mean, what the hell was going on? Wierd thing is, I kinda liked it. But...man, it was way out there. Waaaay. Out. Anyway, I knew this would happen. One good movie and suddenly I'm obsessed with Tom Cruise. I hope it passes after I get this story done. Oh well. I guess there are worse things in the world. Anyway, on with the show...

Drawbacks

Mexico was a temporary stop that turned out to take longer than Vincent had anticipated. But it only made sense. His contact was extremely pissed off at him because Felix was pissed off that Annie Farrell wasn't dead. However, it had put the indictment on hold for an indefinite time, so there was a small cushion of space between him and Felix's rage.

Not that Vincent was worried. Vincent didn't worry as a rule. He couldn't think of a single time in his life when he had ever worried. Not about anything. But there was the problem with his reputation. He did not like his reputation to be damaged.

In the long run, however, he had more important things to worry about.

Victoria knew that that meant her.

Living with a sociopath was not the easiest or hardest thing in the world. It was simply a matter of adjusting to an environment that was restrictive in some ways and completely laid back in others. For instance:

She knew where every single thing in the house was. There were no secrets, no stashes. She knew his catalogue of weapons and their hiding places, she knew his fast routes out, she knew who he knew and who he didn't know. She knew that the layout of the house was fine, whichever way she wanted it, as long as it didn't interfere with his ability to reach things easily. She was the queen of his castle. It was enough to make a girl blush with pride.

But there were drawbacks.

They had come here a month ago. The BMW they had stolen from Marcus Shakespeare's garage during their getaway had been sold upon their entry into Mexico, and the money was used to get a flight on a very small airplane that took them to what Victoria would only have described as a "God-forsaken place." That was at first glance. A careful study revealed a village of types, a community of several important people who wished to stay hidden, and a scattering of commoners to kept the economy running.

Victoria had been operating under a delusion, she knew that now. How easy it was, though, and she couldn't blame herself or Vincent for its creation. After all, how many girls in the world could credit themselves to be the sole object of the affections of a man like Vincent? He was polite, charming, friendly, and always cool, no matter what the circumstance.

Except when he went psycho. She'd seen in a few times, and was careful not to press the trigger that would make it go off again.

Of course, he was also a contract killer. Major drawback number one.

Major drawback number two: why had she ever gotten it into her head that he'd brought her with him to make her a permanent part of his life? What had she been thinking, that they were going to get married in a little chapel in a Mexican city, St. Margaret of the Goats, whatever? Vincent didn't really live inside society. That was one of the major trademarks of a sociopath. He lived in his own world, by his own creed, and didn't understand why others couldn't accept it. Sure, he could blend. He was good at blending. He was good at making small talk, acting polite, being warm to a person he'd just met and making them feel relaxed. One didn't know when those things came from his true self or when they were just an act, but Victoria knew. She didn't know when she'd learned the difference, it was like a small alarm going on inside her head. When he was faking, when he was serious. Lucky for her, he was usually serious with her.

So, here they were, in some little hideout in Mexico, and while Vincent's home was a veritable palace, she felt like it was her pretty little gilded cage, and she was his private whore. The religious person in her - the God-fearing person she had once told Vincent she was - said that it wasn't right, the way they lived. Her womanly instincts told her it was wrong, to just live off of him and have no serious commitment. But after the first conversation about it, Vincent made it clear: what was the use? They were together. They would stay together as long as they wanted. Why make ties over ties that were already there?

So, no marriage. As time passed, she began to realize the wisdom of his decision, but not for the reasons he thought. She'd been crazy to think she could just abandon her life and never look back. As the days passed, turned into weeks, then into a month, she found herself looking back more and more. She began to question herself - even if she did have feelings for Vincent, were they enough? If everyone in the world just lived according to their feelings, it would be hell on earth. There had to be other things in a relationship this intense.

Intense was an understatement.

Drawback number three: she was not allowed to complain about his work. He'd had one call for a job since they'd gotten there, in spite of the fact that he had pissed off employers breathing down the line. He'd gone to do the job and come back, all within three days. She'd hated it for two reasons. First, what if he didn't come back? And second, he was going to kill someone. The moral person in her couldn't bear it. The guilt kept her awake for the entire seventy-two hours that he was gone. When he came back, they had a fight. It was the last time Victoria would dare bring it up. He had never hit her, never even threatened to. The time he'd fired a gun at her, missing deliberately by a mile, had been the last violence she'd ever experienced at his hands. But Vincent didn't need to touch her or say cruel things to her to hurt her. The bonfire of his rage was quite enough. She knew if she wanted any peace in this life, she should never say a word about it again.

So instead, it just ate at her. Like a cancer.

Drawback number four: Vincent was not like any other boyfriend, who could be manipulated or argued with, given the circumstances. It was a common fact that men and women played their little power games. There were no power games with Vincent. If he didn't like something, there wasn't any compromise. Victoria's only refuge was in the fact that there were few things he felt so strongly about. Mostly, she had her way. But there were times...

At any rate, it wasn't a bad life, if you didn't examine it too closely. The house was beautiful, the weather was good at this time of year, and Vincent was a good lover. Considerate, thoughtful. She hesitated to make any moves on him, unsure as to what he wanted, but she rarely had to worry about it. By the end of the first month, she was nearly sure that things would work out somehow. That she would just get used to this life. That every family had secrets, difficulties, flaws. She had never expected perfection and knew she'd never get it, so she would take what happiness Vincent had to offer her and be done with it.

Problem with this plan of attack was, the more you pushed down what you really felt, the heavier it felt inside.

Victoria was shopping. There was a small market near the center of the makeshift village, lots of black market items that were only sold so openly there because the whole place was hidden from the mainstream. It was a busy enough of a place, but everyone was local. Tourists didn't come down here - if a white person was spotted, it meant only one thing: Money.

The weather was much more tropical than what Victoria was used to. She'd taken to wearing tank-tops and shorts with a brightly colored shawl draped and tied around her waist. She carried her money in her pocket, and was keenly aware that she was safer here than she would be in the middle of the most heavily-guarded jewelry shop in New York. Vincent, like the others around here who used this place as a private haven, had a reputation, that while vague, was clear enough to be dangerous. Nothing came in or out of this place without the right people knowing about it - she was quickly recognized and accepted as under Vincent's care.

There were problems...produce was rarely fresh. Other grocery goods she could get easily, but produce and frozen products were the hardest. So when she saw a shipment of bright green bananas, she practically ran over to the stand to buy herself a few pounds.

Her collage Spanish classes were fuzzy in her memory, but she was starting to get the hang of it again. The owner asked her if she needed assistance getting the bananas back to her home, or if she would like a delivery made. She thanked him, said no, and slung the heavy bag over her shoulder.

It was a bit of a trek back to Vincent's home - she just couldn't call it her home, it felt wrong. She made it with a bit of a welt in her shoulder, but was too pleased with the haul of bananas to care. She found a clear spot on their counter in their huge kitchen and laid the bananas out.

There was the distinct sound of trumpets coming from the other room, down the winding hallways. Victoria half-smiled to herself. Vincent was having a love affair with jazz music. When she'd first viewed his CD collection, she didn't even recognize three quarters of the names. Sure, she'd heard of Chad Baxter and Charlie Parker, but she'd never been a fan.

"It's off melody, behind the notes. Not what's expected," Vincent had once said. She'd gotten an ear for it rather quickly. Right now, he was listening to Miles Davis. He seemed to like that one piece, he played it often.

He was always listening to jazz. It was either jazz or silence for him. Occasionally she could wrest control of the stereo system away from him when he was in an indulgent mood and play some of her own music - mostly instrumental, or female vocalists, like Sarah Mclauhlin, or Sara Brightman. She also had that Jem CD she'd knicked from the BMW. What a man like Marcus Shakespeare had been doing with that in his car, she'd never know. More than likely it belonged to his wife.

Living with Vincent wasn't a bad experience, her rational voice intoned. You just had to know the ground rules. And you had to get used to his habits. Like the jazz, all the time. At nights when he couldn't sleep, he either had jazz playing low in the background, or else he would have it playing on a CD-player with an earpiece. He didn't sleep much.

His book collection was rather different. Also jazz obsessed, but varied into all kinds of history. Allen had had his standard obsessions with WWII and the assassination of JFK, but Vincent was more into obscure pieces of history. Particularly the history of cities, like New Orleans or Chicago. Probably because they were heavy jazz centers.

Then there was the staring. It had made her uneasy for a while, but soon she grew to understand it. Vincent watched her regularly, her every single move, sometimes even when she was just sitting and breathing. He watched her sleep, eat, sometimes dress. Although that last one usually had other reasons. She hesitated to complain, mostly because of the things they would talk about.

Some - actually most couples went through the "sweet nothings," phase. Vincent didn't know the meaning of the words "sweet nothings." He didn't babble or chatter. He didn't say anything unless he had something to say. Which meant that every single conversation she had with him was usually quite intense. It was easier if she just let him talk and chose to stick to listening. Trying to talk back was a bit of a headache.

One of the bananas looked yellow enough to eat. She plucked it off the stem and peeled it, throwing the wrapper away. She'd been with him a month, and probably knew more about him than anyone else on the planet. The thought stopped her in the kitchen doorway.

She knew him. God, how she knew him in and out. Maybe that was why she couldn't bear to judge him. Because she understood him. It didn't mean she agreed with him or thought he was right, but she knew where he was coming from.

The thought made her completely lose her appetite for a moment. Then, she started chewing again, and swallowed.

Chances were very likely that he knew her as well. If not better. Especially with all his staring.

She walked into the main room, not what one would call a living room. It was more of a music room, as this was the heart of Vincent's collection of jazz, where the stereo was kept. He had a wonderful entertainment center but rarely used it. If he did, it was either for the news, or for the History Channel. Although she'd gotten him interested in the Food Network. Thank God for satellite TV.

He was staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts. She wondered what went through his head during those moments when he drifted off like that. She was also keenly aware that he knew she was in the room.

"Got some bananas in the market today," she said, just loud enough to be heard over the music without stepping on it."

"Good," he said. "It's been a while. I love bananas in my morning cereal."

She chuckled as she picked up the Satellite TV program guide, thumbing through it. She thought to herself, how amusing, a contract killer who eats his Special K every morning like a good boy. She had thoughts like that constantly. She never vocalized them, only smiled in private amusement. Vincent never asked her to express a thought she didn't wish to. It was nice to have that kind of privacy. Although she was sure he could read her mind by now, with the way he stared at her.

"They're mostly green," she said aloud. "I put them on the counter that gets the most sun. Some of them should be ripe by tomorrow."

"Then why are you eating one?" He hadn't even turned around. She was licking the last of the banana goo off her fingers as she turned the page.

"That one was close enough."

He turned, smiled at her. "Didn't your mother teach you about sharing?" He left the view at the window to saunter over to her. She looked up, met his eyes, smiled at him.

She had somehow expected him to look different once they left L.A. He'd still been in his gray suit, barely cleaned of the bloodstains made by the bullet that had taken off half his ear. While the scar was still apparent, it had done little to mar his appearance.

She approximated Vincent's age as somewhere in his early forties, although the complete gray of his hair - which also included the stubble around his chin, the half-grown goatee, and his eyebrows, all the same shade of gray - could have made someone think he was much older. His face itself was still young, especially his eyes. High cheekbones and a strong nose. It turned out that his hair was naturally that way. He'd told her that on their second night in this house, that his hair had only been dark until he was about eighteen, and then it had gone gray. She sometimes wondered what he'd look like if his hair was still dark. She didn't dare ask him to dye it, though. It was enough that she liked his facial hair the way it was, which was a meticulous thing for him to maintain. Like most men, thankfully, he was willing to please her. There were really very few areas where they disagreed.

Pity that one of those areas was in something so vital - like the value of human life.

She brushed the thought away as his arms snaked around her. Up until now, it had felt almost like a honeymoon in this place. But now, she could feel a tenseness in his shoulders, even as he pressed her close.

"What is it?" she whispered, not expecting an answer right away. She didn't get one. Vincent just held her for several long moments. He had admitted that he had never had much of a love life. His sexual encounters were mostly confined to one-night-stands with women he'd meet in bars. And from what she understood, his military-like discipline did not require him to...relieve himself as regularly as most men. Which was very regularly, from her memories of Allen. It wasn't that Vincent didn't have a sexual appetite - he just seemed to put it on a diet most of the time.

Their nights were tapering off, she knew. Getting shorter, then farther in between. It was a very short honeymoon, if that was the case. Secretly, though, she suspected he had two very good reasons why. Although she wasn't ready to think of them concretely yet.

"Do you like it here?" he asked in his soft voice. "In Mexico?"

"It's okay," she said.

He reached up, pushed her brown-black hair off her shoulder so he could rest his cheek in the crook of her neck. "Tell me the truth, Victoria," he said, his voice soothing. "Do you want to stay here?"

"With you?" she whispered. This was unexpected. He hadn't questioned her being with him, not once since they'd arrived. He'd never seemed unsure of having her in his life.

"No, just in Mexico," he said, his voice a bit louder. "I was thinking it might be time to go somewhere else."

She hesitated. With Vincent, long pauses were standard, she didn't know why she didn't take more herself. "Is there a problem here?" she whispered.

He gave a little shrug - his standard tick. "Not really. I just don't like to stay here for too long. I get too comfortable."

"Easy to see why," she teased lightly. "You can play your music as loud as you want and no one ever complains."

He smiled into her neck. The bristles of his half-grown beard tickled her. "Jungle life is lovely...but I miss the city."

She arched an eyebrow in surprise. "The city? I thought you hated the city."

"I hate L.A. But there are other cities...like New Orleans."

Aha. "Jazz. I should have known."

"Great food, too. You made me watch that show on the Food Network and now I'm curious."

"Hmm." She pretended to consider. "I don't know..."

He jostled her a little, playfully. "Come on..."

She smiled. "Sure, we can go anywhere you want." Then, she stopped, something bubbling up inside her. She let her words end naturally, though, didn't start to say anything else. For a few more moments, Vincent just held her.

"Say it, Victoria," he whispered. "You want to."

She shook her head. "It isn't a big deal."

"Yes it is." He released her just enough to turn her around. "You want to do your work again. I can understand."

She shook her head. "I don't have my license."

"That didn't stop you before."

She looked away. Maybe if it had, she wouldn't be as much of a criminal as he, hiding out from the U.S. Authorities. He brought her face back to meet his.

"You know, I can fix it, if you want."

She frowned. "How?"

"Anything is available for the right amount of money. I know some people we can contact, pay them enough and we can get your license back."

She looked incredulous. "Are you serious?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't want to offend your moral sensibilities, because it might not be a hundred percent legal, but legal enough for them to leave you alone, as long as you keep your head down."

This thought had never occurred to her. Get her medical license back? Her calling to be a doctor had been with her almost her entire life. She'd worked and slaved her way through college to get every loan and grant she could muster, and still she was in debt up to her ears. One mistake by not following the proper channels to report a case of abuse and she was out. Piss off the wrong people and your career is over, that had been her life story. So she'd practiced illegally, operating a small clinic, catering to the criminal underbelly of L.A., and had been respected for it in that vein. Until Vincent had come along...but that really wasn't his fault.

Now, to get it back...it had been taken from her unjustly, wasn't it only fair that she get it back, no matter what the means? But no, she shook herself. "I'll...I'll think about it," she said.

He nodded. "Take your time. But until then, I think we're going to get ready to leave."

"Go to New Orleans?" she asked.

"N'Orleans to the locals," he said with a smirk. "And some of that Spanish you've picked up will come in handy."

A/N: Well, here we are, all back for another round. Yeah, it is off to a pretty solid start, but things are getting a bit hazy. I had a very hard time in this chapter. I think I tried to do too much. But I'd don't know...day after tomorrow school starts! (sniff) Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.

Byrony Cel: Still on board! Cool. Chapter 1 was fun to write because it was twisting all these different plot strands together. I felt like I got to fix what was wrong with the movie...not that there was much. Except for the death of two majorly important characters. Which is a lot, if you think about it! Lol

firegoddess164: I'm glad someone thought that Vincent going berserk thing was funny! I did feel bad that he wasn't in the chapter at all, so he had to go somewhere. LOL

Sweet Arwen: Yeah, Ruffalo is pretty cool, isn't he? I was soooo upset when he died! It so wasn't fair! It was just too easy. So I fixed it. And yeah, get ready to REALLY hate Claudia. Although I love my villans, it's so great to get to vent your evil side through them. She'll have a very big part to come.

cerebralgoddess18: Hope you've checked these chapters out! Sequel is here! I just hope this chapter didn't make everything suck. I am not really a romantic, I'm more of a realist, and people are capable, psychologically, of some pretty f'ed up stuff. So it will definitely be a ride to remember!

Par: Yeah, well, Love is a funny thing...it doesn't take long to fall into it. But there was a serious "thing" going on between them at the beginning of the story, too. From their very first meeting, alluded to in the first chapter. So I came back full circle. I had a very hard time with that last chapter--it suffered a rewrite or two because I just coulnd't reconcile myself to Vincent saying, "I'm in love with you!" Notice, he did not say it. Their relationship, as you have already seen, is very different. So I'll await your opinions on it. :) I don't know if there will be a lot of room for passion filled nights with what I've got planned. We'll have to see (wink). There WILL, however, be lots and lots of angst. Hope I don't make all those others cry again.

LunaGrrrBack023: Hope you're still with me! I'm posting responses to the last reviews with this chapter. You know, it doesn't matter when you review, as long as you do! Hope to hear from you again! Thanks for your comments!

Okay, I'll leave you to it. The button is down below...purple, indigo, violet, whatever. :) PRESS IT! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!!! :)