Closure

"I've never taken any responsibility."

They sat together, the nurse having gone. Charles was still on the bed, but Victoria had him now, sitting just in front of her, letting him explore the strange, white desert of the hospital sheets. He toyed with Vincent's fingers, and Vincent didn't withdraw them. He continued to watch his son, his face covered with that blankness she'd known a long time ago, the night he'd first wandered into her life for a very long stay.

"I still...don't feel any." He seemed uncomfortable with that confession. As if something inside him had woken up and told him that he should.

Victoria smoothed the wrinkles out of the shirt that Charles had been wearing for the last forty-eight hours. Thankfully, his diapers were fresh.

Charles turned and looked up at his mother. He gave her a little smile as she wiggled her nose at him. Whenever he looked at her, she couldn't resist making a silly face - anything to get him to smile. He didn't smile too much, although he was a quiet baby, happy, even. Occasionally, she could make him laugh.

"He has my eyes," Vincent muttered."

"Yes."

"When I was little, my hair was dark like that."

"When did it go gray?"

"I don't remember. I think I was a teenager."

Victoria looked at Vincent again. Her heart wrenched in her chest. She drew a breath - there wasn't any time like the present to just say it -

He stopped her.

Not with words. His hand reached out and landed lightly on hers. Charles' attention had switched to his teething ring again, and he was sucking away on it happily. Then, gently, his fingers curled around hers, taking her in a warm grip.

"I've missed you. This last year."

Victoria said nothing, just waited. Vincent needed time to say what he wanted to say. Although she sensed what it was, already, she didn't want to stop him. He needed to say it himself.

"Have you missed me?" he whispered.

"Yeah."

It was the truth. Although she didn't understand it at times. Sure, she was in love with him. But she also knew what he was. It was a strange paradox, but love was like that. It didn't have reasons.

"I don't want to be my father," he said.

"Then don't."

"It's not that easy." He sighed, looked away. "I've...I'm not...it's not me. I'm indifferent. I've always been. I like it that way."

"So, what have you been doing for the last year?" Victoria said softly, eyebrow raised in just a touch of a challenge.

"Touché," he said. "Not that. I've...lost my taste for it."

She said nothing.

"I don't think it's possible for me to change," he said. "But I guess I've changed anyway."

His bright eyes met hers - no, not bright, but dark and deep, liquidly green pools. Sometimes the way he looked at her was more intense than his deepest kiss, than any intimate act he could possibly perform. She looked back, taking him in.

"I felt responsible for you," he said. "I've never done that before."

She almost chuckled. "Well, I sort of figured that one out already," she said, keeping her voice low. At her chuckle, Charles turned to her, his hands reaching for her mouth. She pulled him closer, kissing his soft cheek.

"He's a part of both of us, isn't he?" Vincent whispered.

"Yes. I think that's the reason I love him the most."

"You do?" His voice got even quieter.

"Yes. Vincent, you may be indifferent, but I'm not. You do have some redeeming qualities."

"Some. Like."

"You're always honest." She turned her hand in his, palms meeting. "You...." She stopped. "I can't put it into words, you know," she said. "But you have this ability to talk to people. To charm them."

"Superficial."

"And inside," she went on, "you're...real. You have compassion, you have love. They're all there...you just never knew what to do with them."

"I gave them to you."

"And Charles will, too. To everyone. Because he's loved. I love him enough for both of us."

Vincent's eyes drifted to his son. He seemed perplexed. "When I knew that Claudia was coming here," he whispered, "all I could think of was protecting you, and him." He looked back at her, his face like that of a child who has just discovered something and is totally unsure of its reality. "Is...that love?"

"Sounds pretty good to me," she said, almost relieved.

"So I do love him." He seemed even more perplexed. "I don't...understand that."

"I do." She squeezed his hand. "Vincent, I love you. I love you completely and totally. But the truth is, there are things I couldn't live with."

"I know," he sighed. "I know what they were, too."

"Do you...remember? Last night?" she asked, tentatively.

"You mean nearly dying? I have a few vague memories."

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"A little." He looked away. "Something about me not dying. Although it would probably have solved a lot of problems."

"Don't say that." She blinked, feeling her throat start to close. "Don't ever say that."

"I was just kidding," he said, still deadpan.

"Sometimes that sense of humor of yours..."

"I know." A pause. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"Claudia," he began, and then stopped. "Is she alive?"

Victoria let out a low, hissing breath. "Yeah, last time I checked."

"How?"

"What do you mean, how? You didn't kill her."

"I sure as hell tried. She should have died. You must have some impressive doctors here." He looked at her closely as he read her face, as he could always do.

"I helped," she said.

"Why?"

"Because it was the right thing to do."

He smiled at her, his first smile throughout the entire conversation. "You're also good enough for both of us," he said. "But I still think you're nuts."

She almost pulled her hand back, but he wouldn't let go.

"So is she going to live?" Vincent asked.

Victoria shrugged. "She sure as hell seems to want to." She gave him a rather reproachful look. "You really...really...fucked her up."

"I know." He was indifferent to it, factual. "She deserved it."

"Why do I get the feeling that what she deserves doesn't have entirely to do with what she's done to me?"

Vincent looked surprised. "You doubt my protectiveness towards you?"

She wondered if he was being facetious, but then detected the real offense just under the skin. For a man who took no responsibility for anyone, that he would do so for her was more than a compliment. "I just remember what you told me. That you two had a past."

"She left me."

"And all either one of you have ever said about it is that she did it because she felt like it." Victoria hitched, almost afraid to ask. "Did you love her?"

"Didn't you ask me this before?"

"Refresh my memory."

He looked away. "I was so young," he whispered. "There were so many other things going on...we had sex. She wasn't my first, but she was the first one who stuck around. We were...friends. We understood each other, watched out for each other. I don't know, maybe in some way, I did love her. It feels so strange to say that. She's such a cold-hearted bitch."

"Maybe that's it, then," Victoria said. "Maybe you were angry at her for dumping you."

"At the time, I really didn't care." He looked back at her. "I guess...maybe I thought that that was how relationships were supposed to be. I know I didn't like it. I wasn't with anyone since. I mean, I was with other women, picked them up in bars, it's easy." He shrugged. "But no one serious. No one who stayed with me." He released her hand, to reach up and gently lay his fingers against her cheek. "You were just so different from any of them, you know? I told myself for the longest time that that was just it, you were different, of course I found you interesting. I don't know exactly when I started to love you."

"No one ever does know," she told him.

"So you don't know when you fell in love with me?"

"Not really. Although you fascinated me, too."

His hand went back to her, and he pulled her a little closer. "Victoria," he said, "when I leave here, what's going to happen?"

"That's up to you," she said, a bit self-consciously.

"What if we left here and started over again?"

"You mean like Mexico?"

The barely concealed dislike in her voice caught his attention. "No, not like that. Not playing house. For real, this time. Starting over."

"Where?"

"I've been living in New Mexico for a while," he said. "It's beautiful out there...there's this place called Star Hill Inn, they have cabins with all the modern conveniences, except for televisions and stereos. At night you can take tours of the sky using their huge telescopes."

She seemed bemused. "However do you live without your jazz?"

"That's what headphones are for," he said. "But it's peaceful there." He hesitated. "A good place for a honeymoon."

"If you're going to propose to me, Vincent," she said, lightly, "you're really going to have to do better than that."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Fine. Will you marry me, Victoria?"

He gave in too easily. She wasn't expecting it. The tiny smile in the corner of her mouth froze, then melted, as she stared at him.

"Are you crazy?"

"According to my last psychological evaluation, yes."

"That's not -"

"I'm serious, Victoria. I want to try. I want this to work."

"And if it doesn't?" she asked, squirming in his grip. "Vincent, that's a huge risk."

"Isn't any relationship?" His gaze grew more intense. "Victoria, you know one thing. You can always trust me to be honest with you."

"I can trust your honesty, but if we're going to do this, I want to know everything. No more bloody secrets. And no more contracts."

"Fair enough. But you're going to have to move to New Mexico."

"Doesn't bother me. I rather like the desert."

Charles rested his head against his mother's chest, letting out a small, bored sigh. He really was a remarkably quiet child.

"So this is it?" she said after a pause. "Happy ever after?"

"That only happens in the movies." He leaned closer to her, just a little. "I just want to be with you. And I want to do it right this time."

"And you think it's going to be that easy?" Her skepticism was pounding against her heart, fighting the hope that rose within her. "What about Claudia? What about-"

"Claudia," came a voice from the hallway, "is no longer with us."

Both of them looked to the intruder, to find a rather disheveled Ray Fanning standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Ray," Victoria said. "How long-?"

"Not that long," he said, nearly apologetically. "But I wanted you two to know."

"She's...dead?" Victoria whispered.

Fanning and Vincent met eyes. "Yeah," Fanning said.

"And how, exactly?" Vincent asked.

"What do you mean? You would know better than me," Ray said.

Victoria turned on him, scowling. "Ray, please, tell me you didn't -"

"Oh, I wanted to, trust me," Ray said. "I thought about it. But it seems that God beat me to it."

Vincent nearly smirked. "Funny, I never believed in God."

"Well, He seems to believe in you," Ray said. Victoria was still looking at him, doubtful. "I swear it, Vic. Honest to God. I didn't touch a thing."

Slowly, she relented. "All right, Ray. If you say so."

"I do. Well, I'm going to go talk to your lawyer. You two are going to have enough trouble on your hands in a few minutes."

"What do you mean?" Victoria asked.

"He," Ray said, pointing at Vincent, "doesn't have any insurance, does he?"

Victoria looked at Vincent. "Do you?"

"I was getting to it. Legitimate life just has too many details."

"Oh hell." She pulled Charles off the bed and set him snugly into his carrier. "Well, I have some money we can use -"

"Most likely they're going to have to discharge him the second he's safe from dying," Ray said. "Looks like he's going to need a place to stay."

"Victoria," Vincent said, "do you still have Max?"

"Yeah, he's at home, though. God, I hope he's okay."

"And you're the mother of my child? God, woman..."

"Maybe you should continue this conversation later," Ray said, looking down the hall. "Here come your persecutors." And with a quick wink, he disappeared.

8888888888

They did continue the conversation, many times, over the next several years. But Vincent's stunted sense of responsibility and Victoria's skepticism over having a truly "normal" life were not enough to stop them from being happy.

Because, in the end, they loved each other. And they trusted each other. Love was not enough by itself, neither one was naive enough to believe that. But as the old saying went, don't marry someone you can live with---marry someone you can't live without.

Anti-climactic as it seemed, Claudia died in the hospital, from her wounds. They were simply too much, and her body gave out, as much as her spirit seemed willing to fight. Neither shed a tear for her, but both made damn sure that she was dead and buried in the ground. Victoria checked the body herself.

Vincent was discharged from the hospital as soon as the wound in his gut allowed it. That was where the real damage had been done, as it made the most simple movements incredibly painful, if not impossible. He spent many weeks in Victoria's bed, not doing as he would have liked, but instead being coddled and nursed until he was ready to go insane. But in that time, he was allowed to get to know her again, and even more, to get to know Charles.

Victoria turned in her resignation at the hospital. There was a big stink over her using the maternity ward as a daycare, so there wasn't much complaint, although her co-workers claimed they would miss her terribly. She wondered if any of them would even remember her first name in five years.

Of course, now it was Sarah.

The first night they made love, Vincent practically scared Victoria to death, as he exerted himself entirely too much for her concerns over his healed wounds. But she'd forgotten how fast he healed, and soon forgot all ability to think as the sun started to creep into their room.

About a week later, the two of them packed up everything Victoria wanted in a small U-Haul (most of it was Charles' baby stuff) and left for New Mexico. Within two days, they were there, greeting the wide plain of the desert as the sun rose across it.

The scary part was, it worked.

They knew, somewhere deep down, that perhaps neither of them deserved the happy ending. And as it was life and not a story, there was no real "ending," but there was a sense of closure with their past. It didn't hang over them, didn't shadow their days or haunt their nights. Each made their separate peace with it, although Victoria still worried, during certain times of the month, of someone from Vincent's past returning for unpleasant reasons. He had to have enemies - but none of them seemed to find them.

It was a beautiful place to live. They moved into a brand new complex of homes being built - where it was, was difficult to describe because the place stretched out so wide it was hard to tell where it began and ended. Plus, there were so many smaller places that were hours apart from each other, places to go and hide, places to disappear. They lived in the complex, made of the modernized casa-style brown clay that gave the homes a prefabricated sense, and yet an elegant beauty in their high ceilings, balconies, and sweeping fans that kept the air constantly moving. After a few years, they moved farther away from the bigger city, although close enough to enjoy it when necessary. It was even tempting to move to Roswell, although Vincent really didn't want to because of the town's strange reputation. He wasn't really into the idea of aliens.

Charles grew up, as happy and well-adjusted as any child. Victoria began to work for a local hospital, and gradually rose up the ranks to become the Chief Resident. Vincent took a job in security - it was something for which he was ideally suited, as the man had eyes for every crack and flaw that could be conceived. He made sure the various businesses with valuable goods to protect were well-protected. As with the fate of many in the medical profession, Victoria's time was consumed by work on various occasions throughout her life, but Vincent was a good father and a good husband, being patient with her, and cautious with his son, deferring more to Victoria's judgment until he had a more secure handle on the concept of right and wrong. Money was rarely a problem. Vincent's most expensive item was his stereo system, and Victoria made a hefty sum at the hospital, in addition to what she and Vincent already had from their "previous life." It was a peaceful, rather uneventful life. Which was fine, as both of them had had quite enough excitement and adventure to last them forever.

A/N: We have one more chapter to go...basically an epilogue. Because I just can't leave well enough alone.