Disclaimer: Same as always. Although I don't think it's really fair for a man to be as good looking at Tom Cruise. He needs to spread the love, you know what I mean?

A/N: Thank you out there, guys, from reviewing! SweetArwen, Byrony Cel, cerebralgoddess18, LunaGrrrBack023, PAR! and firegoddess! You guys, and the anonymous ones out there, are the greatest! I pulled this out just this evening, just for you. Don't hate me for what happens at the end.

((Special note to LunaGrrrBack023: you know, you want to write, you write. Dont' worry about if it's great. I didn't get to writing this way overnight. I've been writing for nearly fifteen years now. It takes time, patience, and a lot of reading. The greatest thing about fanfic is that it's a way to get a lot of feedback on your style and your content. So go for it! Let me know when your story is posted and I'll read it. I'll even beta-read it for you if you send it to me in an email (just put it IN the email, don't post it as an attachment if you can help it) and help you out, if you want. Just let me know.))

Where did Sweet Treats and Warm Mittens go? I know there are a few more out there, you were with me all through "Soulless..." Where have you gone? Please review so I know you haven't given up on me! :)

Secrets

Victoria found herself wandering a bit aimlessly. She knew where to look, but couldn't quite get her feet to take her that way.

She was pregnant. She knew she was pregnant. Dammit...she wanted to be happy about this. Having a baby was something she had been secretly longing for, for a while. Not so much having a husband or the big house and a normal life, but a child. It was a biological clock thing, she knew that. She was thirty-five. It had been ringing for at least three years now.

This wasn't the way to do it. Not with Vincent. Sure, it was okay for the two of them. But a child? How could they make sure it stayed safe? How could they give it the education it needed? How could Vincent, who killed people for a living, possibly accept that he was responsible for a very delicate human life?

Her rational voice told her that of course he could do it, he'd been taking care of her. But she was different, she replied. She was a grown adult who knew what she was getting into - even if she didn't, entirely. She could adapt, change. A baby made everything change around it. Vincent wasn't going to take getting up in the middle of the night to change diapers and hanging smelly baby poo all that well.

Worse than that, she knew what kind of thread they lived by. There was always the chance someone would come around who was looking for some payback. It happened all the time. Vincent had failsafes in place, and they were good for the two of them. But a baby would become a serious liability. Not to mention, ill equipped to handle the stress of such a situation.

Potentially, she was carrying Vincent's seed. Whatever made him indifferent to killing, what if that was passed on? How could she teach right and wrong when she herself had abandoned all pretext of it herself? Bad enough she had to live with that guilt. She couldn't do it to an innocent baby.

She bumped a table. The corner knicked her hip, leaving a mark that was sure to become a bruise. But finally, her feet had done it. The Latino woman looked at her over the low counter, eyes going up and down.

Victoria didn't quite know the Spanish for it, but she managed to get her point across. She was handed a blue box with a stick inside. At least she didn't have to pee into a cup, she thought with relief. She paid and wandered back into the marketplace, taking the stick and the instructions out of the box and throwing the box away. The stick and instructions promptly went into her bag, at the very bottom.

She wandered around, bought a few more things - there were some fresh oranges, but she wasn't a big citrus fan, so she grabbed a few for Vincent and headed back to the humvee.

"What did you do?" Fanning asked as he and Claudia met a good thirty feet from the proximity of the market, heavily covered in the bush. She had stealthily approached the humvee as it had returned to pick up Victoria, then come scurrying back. She pulled the hood off her head, revealing her white hair in the late morning sun.

"Tracker," she said. She pulled out a small cel-phone, flipped up the top to reveal a detailed screen. "We can follow. Come on."

Victoria ate her omelet with Vincent on the patio. He'd made her favorite, spinach and feta, but for some reason she couldn't quite get it down. Vincent noticed, asked her a half-dozen times if she was all right, to which she would only smile, nod, and attempt another bite. By the time he was finished with his own ham and cheese omelet, he was rather annoyed with her because he knew she was hiding something. Vincent did not like things to be hidden from him in his house. She could sense him coiling tightly inside, ready to spring on her, pound her if he had to for information, but he restrained himself.

There was a small beeping coming from his pocket. He pulled out that blasted pager. He gave her a quick look and got up, going into the house without a word.

She didn't blame him. She knew better than to hide anything from him. But she just couldn't tell him, she couldn't. Not until she knew for sure. She put her elbows on the table, her face in her hands. She heard the soft, distant sound of Vincent on the telephone. She couldn't make out any words. She shut her eyes, breathing in the late morning air. It was going to rain soon. She could tell by the smell.

When she opened her eyes and looked up, she was almost startled to see Vincent in the doorway, watching her. The look on his face, if she didn't know better, was practically concerned. She'd seen all his softer looks, known how special she was to be blessed by them, but this one was different. Like he was afraid for her. Or of her.

"What is it?" she whispered, knowing he would hear with perfect clarity.

"Gotta go into town," he said. The skin on the back of her neck tingled. She knew what that meant. Work. He never went into town, ever, unless it was work. And by town, he meant an hour's drive away to the nearest city that could actually be located on a store-bought map. "I'll be back by tonight."

She blinked, realizing that it was actually a blessing in disguise. Normally, she hated being alone for that long. She reminded herself to at least appear that way, so she wouldn't make the situation worse. She put on her typical sulk, knowing words were too much, but the sulk she could get away with.

He turned, grabbed his keys from the hook by the phone, and went out the other way, toward the garage. When he was gone, she let down the frown and headed for her bag.

She had always hated peeing into cups. She had shy kidneys. They weren't any better now, even with a stick. She would have to stop, start, move the stick, worry that it wasn't getting hit, start again, squeeze hard because it was coming faster, and then try like hell not to piss on her own fingers. When she was done, she had to scrub her hands three times with hot, hot water before she was happy.

She read the instructions. Always second, never first, because, hell, she was a doctor, she knew how this crap worked. She was just looking for the wait time.

She passed the wait time staring out the window, at the floor, at the pictures she had plastered on their fridge. Postcards, mostly, from the various places Vincent went to. He always brought her back a post card, and she had a few from their drive down here. There was only a single picture of her and Vincent, taken with a Polaroid camera that had broken after a single take. Vincent had nearly beat the snot out of the dealer before the man had given him back his money. But the picture was still good.

Vincent was holding out the camera. He had his other arm around her, her head against his neck. It was sort of a downward angled shot, but it got both of their faces in. They were smiling like newlyweds. Vincent was smiling...God, he had such a beautiful smile. He glowed when he smiled, angelic, demonic, whichever he chose. In the light, his hair looked nearly white and shone around his head like some kind of halo. She teased him about that picture. He tolerated her putting it on their fridge because it was the only one of him in existence, and he had to compromise something. Even though, normally, he didn't compromise. He guessed it was little harm to have a picture like that on a refrigerator. People had all kinds of pictures on their refrigerators, didn't mean anything.

She'd been smiling, wistfully, as she looked at it. Then, slowly the smile dropped as she realized the implications of that statement. Vincent knew about the intricacies of someone keeping photos on their fridge. Must mean he saw it pretty often. Which meant he went into people's houses. For a reason. And his reasons were never good. But after all, that was what he did for a living.

Something hit her foot and she jumped. She looked down and laughed at herself. Max looked back up at her from her feet, fully grown to his one and a half feet long, one foot tall, miniaturized golden retriever self. He had dropped his little rubber ball at her feet, something that had come in a gum-ball machine. He was a quiet little dog, mostly kept to himself. Victoria suspected he was imitating Vincent in his behavior. After all, Vincent was top dog. He only really made himself known when Vincent was away, seeing as that was the chance for him to get his mommy's attention all to himself.

She picked up the little red rubber ball and bounced it. Max went after it, slipping on the tile floor. She laughed, stood up, glanced at the stick.

There was a blue circle in the middle.

Victoria closed her eyes.

Max let out a loud-pitched yelp.

She opened her eyes.

The ball came right at her head, slamming right against her temple. After that, she didn't even know if she'd hit the floor.

When she woke up, the sun had gone down. Her vision was a little foggy, but there was a glass of water sitting on the coffee table in front of her. She was lying down on the couch, on her back. She rolled a little, grabbed the water, and managed a gulp.

"You okay?" came a voice.

She put the water down with a little slam. It sapped her strength, but it was worth the act of defiance. "Who are you? What the hell are you doing here? Do you have any idea-"

The third statement was stopped as someone came around the back of the couch and leaned over the thickly-padded cushions. Long white hair brushed against the plush brown suede. "Spare me, Victoria."

"Claudia," she whispered. "What the hell are you doing?"

Claudia looked up, sighed. "Well, right now, I'm looking at your little love next. Pretty impressive. Vincent must have saved a lot of his pennies for this." She glanced down at Victoria, a sneer on her lips. "How does it feel, having blood spilled to put a roof over your head?"

"Oh, spare me now," Victoria groaned, struggling to sit upright. "You fucking bitch, what did you do?"

"Little nerve trick. You hit exactly the right spot on the temple with enough force, you knock a person out. You miss by an inch, or you press too hard, you kill them."

Victoria glared at her as she came out from behind her to sit down on the coffee table in front of her. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

Claudia shrugged. "You think I haven't come up against guys like Vincent before? Please, he's a dime a dozen. When he tells you he's insignificant, in his case, he's actually telling the truth."

Victoria glared, shook her head, struggled to clear the fuzziness away. "You...knew Vincent...from a long time ago."

"He tell you that?" Claudia asked, casually, as if they were old friends chatting over drinks. "Yeah, I did. He was my significant other for a while, the only guy who ever waited for me during a brief prison stretch. I got out early for good behavior, and plus there was enough convincing evidence that I'd been nearly raped, so that got me a lot of sympathy."

Finally, the swirling sensation stopped. Victoria met her, eye to eye. "What are you doing here, Claudia? What do you want?"

"What I want..." Claudia pressed her fingertips together, encased as they were in tight black gloves. "What I want is some payback for the bullet in my shoulder and the break in my nose."

"What about your arm and your knee?" Victoria quipped nastily.

Claudia chuckled, reached down and rapped her knuckles on the side of her knee. There was a metallic sound. "Actually, dear, I lost my knee a long time ago. Finest titanium, best replacement money can buy. And my arm...well, I'm double jointed. That fake broken arm trick works a lot. But I only can get away with it once."

A pause descended. Claudia glared into Victoria's face, searching for something. Finally, she parted her thin lips and said, "Does Vincent know you're pregnant?"

Victoria should have been startled, but hell, the test had been sitting out on the counter for everyone to see.

Claudia shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Didn't you take your pills regularly, dear? Or did a condom break? Or don't you and Vincent like condoms? He was always more of a bare-back rider, anyway." She smirked evilly. "But I certainly wouldn't want to be you when he finds out."

Victoria glared at her, feeling tears come unbidden to her eyes. "Shut up. You don't know anything."

"Oh, but I do, Vicki, dear. I know a lot. I know where Vincent came from, I know more about his awful, bloody past than you could dream up in your worst nightmares. I know what goes on inside his head - he hasn't changed that much since I knew him, I can see it in his face. The same empty look in his eyes. Although I am surprised he's taken you on. That's not really his style. All the same, it's better, I guess. Makes it easier for me."

"What...what are you talking about, bitch?" Victoria choked.

"You, my dear Vicki, are a liability," Claudia explained patiently, her voice dripping with a compassion that was so fake, it almost sounded real. "You see, people like Vincent and I, we don't have personal attachments. Sooner or later, someone with a grudge will always come looking for you. The only thing a personal attachment does is give that person a stronger foothold. You, quite plainly, are going to be the death of your sweet lover Vincent."

Victoria bit the inside of her lip, trying not to scream a half-dozen obscenities into Claudia's face. She had more of a self-preservation instinct than that.

"See this pretty house, all this stuff? Empty, it means nothing to him. He's gone right now, and if you weren't here, he could decide to just go and never come back, and that would be fine for him. He would be free. But you, you tie him down. You chain him to this place. You make him care. Vincent doesn't care, it's not in the job description."

"A man is more than his job," Victoria bit out.

"Not this job, baby," Claudia returned. "Worst thing is, you think he loves you."

The other woman's eyes widened. She'd taken just about all she could. "You. Shut. Up."

"Has he ever said it?"

"He doesn't have to."

Claudia laughed softly. "They all have to, baby, that's in our nature. We have to hear it. They have to stay it. That's what makes it real. Never say it, and it doesn't exist. Maybe that's what will save him."

"You're wrong," Victoria said, unable to help herself. "You don't know him. Not like I do."

"Sure. You tell yourself that." Claudia stood up, walked around to the other end of the coffee table, stared down at Victoria. "Whatever it is, it isn't love, Vicki, I can promise you that. Guys like Vincent don't love. He's just gotten overly-attached to you. Happens to some of the greats, before they go. Get their foot caught in the door, fall over, shoot themselves through the head. Happens every time. He's grasping at something he knows he can't have, lying to himself. And you let him."

Victoria could only glare at her, horrified beyond words.

"Mark my words, Vicki," Claudia sighed. "This house of cards is going to fall down. Now, you can either sit back and watch that happen, or you can do something about it?"

Victoria spluttered, "What, you trying to help me now?"

Claudia shrugged. "Depends on how you look at it. Maybe I'm trying to help Vincent. Look, no matter how he feels about you, you love him. You'd die for him. I can smell it on you. A sensible person like Dr. Victoria Potter wouldn't go running off with a contract killer without a very, very good reason. And love is a very powerful motivator."

"Get to the point, you psychopathic bitch," Victoria whispered.

Claudia sighed. "You know, you can call me a bitch all you want, but let's leave the adjectives behind, okay?" She folded her arms, continued. "Now, as I was saying, you love him. You care about him and I'm sure you want what's best for him. Well, this isn't it, Vicki."

"Stop calling me that," Victoria said. "Nobody calls me Vicki."

"My point," Claudia went on, as if ignoring her, "is that you could really do some good, here. You see, Vincent is in a lot of trouble, even if he doesn't know it yet. Shit is coming down that hill, and it's going to avalanche onto his head. He can, however, get out of it." Claudia handed her a card. "You know this name?"

Victoria took the card, hesitating. She looked down at the name. Ray Fanning. If it was possible, she grew even more pale. "Ray?"

"L.A.P.D., detective in narcotics. But he's a good go-between. Vincent agrees to surrender himself to Detective Fanning. Fanning will escort him back to L.A., where he will be handed over to the Feds, where he will be cut the sweetest deal of his life. He testifies that Felix is the one who hired him to murder all the witnesses against him, Felix goes down, and Vincent gets a completely clean slate. He can go anywhere he want, start over fresh."

"Alone," Victoria whispered.

"Isn't it better that way? Besides, after he finds out about this-" Claudia flapped her hand toward Victoria's abdomen, "you might be pretty damn glad of it. You want Vincent to live happily ever after, and I know you do, even if it's without you, then you'll do this. It's the only way. Otherwise, it's only a matter of time."

Victoria stared down at the card. She licked at the tears that had dripped onto the rim of her lips.

Claudia bent down, catching Victoria's eyes. "Baby," she said, back in that compassionate voice, "it's a shitty world out there. You've had your fun. It's not like you're not going to get anything for your trouble. But do the right thing, okay? I know you hate me, I don't blame you. I am a bitch, I admit it. But I'm right. You give it some heavy thought, you'll find out you know it, too. When you're ready, call that number."

Victoria wiped at the tear tracks. "He'll never agree," she whispered. "He's too damn proud."

Claudia considered her. "Then break his pride," she said. "He'll agree." She straightened, reached for something inside her pocket, fiddled with it, and then slipped back into the shadows, disappearing from Victoria's sight.

Victoria sat staring at the card Claudia had left for a good fifteen minutes before she was able to pull herself together enough to get up, get rid of the pregnancy test and hide the card. She went into the bathroom to cool down her face, get rid of the bright red from the tears, but the second she turned on the light, she saw it was a useless fight.

There was a huge bruise on her temple. It was so purple and blue, it was almost like it was dripping down into her face, across her forehead. There was no way in hell she could hide it. Vincent was going to come home, see her like this, and he was going to completely flip out.

A/N: Back by popular demand...(Ok, so only like 3 people liked it...that's enough for me.)

Me: Vincent wasn't in this chapter much, was he? But he was talked about a lot.

Vincent: Who's talking about me?

Me: Uh...nobody. You know, I got on the internet and looked up some stuff about Miles Davis, so I'm Jazz literate now.

Vincent: Yippee for you. What were you saying about me?

Me: Vincent, don't be paranoid. Look, I was watching Vanilla Sky the other day, and I'm wondering, when did the Lucid Dream begin?

Vincent: Vanilla Sky? Lucid Dream? Woman, are you doing crack again?

Me: God, I wish...I mean, no. I'm working too damn hard, but no, no crack. So what about Vanilla Sky?

Vincent: What about it?

Me: Well, you were in it. I figured you'd know what it was about.

Vincent: No idea.

Me: Too bad. You were with a really hot Spanish girl.

Vincent: I'm not into that. I like red-heads.

Me: (puts on a red-wig) Really?

Vincent: Uh...maybe not. Okay, look, you won't tell me what you're talking about, I'm going to have to beat it out of you.

Me: Okay, this conversation suddenly became unsuitable for a PG-13 audience. You guys go review...hopefully we'll get this sorted out by the time you come back. Although it may take a few days.

Vincent: Get ready for it, baby.

Me: Oh God, please don't send me to hell. :)