Maura had wanted to go out tonight, before Natalie came. Fuck it, she thought, she was going out dancing at Raven. New moon be damned, she'd be safer there than most anywhere else. Vachon and Vargo would watch out for her. She ran up to the bedroom, ignoring Nick as he looked up from his computer and followed her with his eyes. He wished he could convince her things would be okay, even if he didn't know how they could make it happen.

Maura slipped into tight black jeans and a tailored purple blouse open to there, brushed out her hair and sprayed on a little Emeraude. It didn't fight with her natural fragrance but seemed to mask it a bit. At least they had to get within a foot or two to pick her out. She grabbed her jacket and bag and took the stairs two at a time.

"Gimme a lift, will you?" Nick was standing at the window now, staring out the open blinds at the stars.

"What? Where do you plan to go? Tonight, of all nights."

"I wanna go out. I feel good, Nick, for the first time in I don't know how long. For once I don't feel like the blue plate special. I feel like a person. And I don't know how long it'll last, so I don't want to waste it, okay? I wanna go dancing. Do you know how long it's been since I've really gone dancing?"

In spite of his concern, a smile crept over Nick's face. She did seem transformed after her sulk, eyes lit with a fire he hadn't noticed since they'd met. Then he was a bit ashamed, feeling rather like some mortal man who believed his sexual prowess changed women's lives. "No, I don't think you've told me that."

"Probably since back when you were shoveling shit for the Revolution, if I'd lived that long." She whacked him with her purse. "Come on, please? I relieve you of all responsibility. I'll catch a lift home. You can come back here and brood over your fight with Natalie if you want. "

"We didn't 'fight'," he corrected her.

"Well somebody did. Maybe she was verbally shadow-boxing. Come on, you could use a real night out too. When was the last time you really had fun? I mean you guys are allowed to have fun without killing people, I've seen it happen."

He was tempted. Something felt lightened in him since he'd taken her and, like her, he didn't know how long it would last.

"Okay. But don't expect me to dance."

"Yeah, right. You are absolutely the first stuffy vampire I've met, ever."

Janette seemed surprised to see Maura and Nick arrive through the front entrance shortly after ten.

"Did you forget something last night, cherie?" she asked Maura solicitously, casting a knowing look over them both. Though no mark remained on Maura's throat she could tell, be damned she could always tell, Nick thought, just like Schanke said his mother could always tell when he got laid as a teenager.

"Non, merci, just came to play tourist," Maura bounded to the bar to get a drink.

"Champagne, Vash, I'm celebrating!" she called to him over the music and general noise. He was surprised to see her again, and on the new moon. Even Vachon, the most mild-mannered of his circle, felt his fangs tingle when she got within a few feet.

"Celebrating what?" he wanted to know, pulling out a split of Janette's French reserve.

"The new moon!" she announced. "I'm celebrating the new moon and the fact that I'm not locked in a dark room tonight! Is that good enough?"

"Sure," Vachon popped the cork and poured a flute for Maura, handing her both the flute and the small, flowered bottle. "Whatever works." He understood the significance of her being out tonight, but not why she felt safe doing so. He figured Nick probably was keeping an eye on her. She looked for Nick; he was talking with Janette in the shadows. She held her ever-present glass of Merlot and blood. Vampire boilermaker. Maura drained her glass on the way across the room, and the alcohol made her immediately giddy. She hadn't eaten in some time. By the time she reached Janette and Nick she had to hold the bar to steady herself.

"Take it easy with that, I don't want have to carry you to the car."

She smiled and patted his arm. "No worries." She polished off the rest right from the bottle, laughing as Janette's cool cracked with the raising of an eyebrow. Nick felt a rush of warmth in his gut at the sound.

"Well come on, Nick, you gotta dance with the broad what you brung."

"Oh, no," he shook his head with a smile. "I told you, no."

Janette was amused. "But Nicolas, you were always the first to search for a partner when the music started. When did you change?"

"Yeah, Nick, you're 800 years old, you must know every dance in the universe." She took his arm and leaned against his side. Together with the perfume she wore, her scent triggered that whirl in his head again. And again, he was tired of fighting it. He tightened an arm around her waist, pulling her hard against him. "All right," he warned, "but don't complain if you can't keep up."

He was, as she'd guessed, an amazing dancer. Well anyone who could fly, she figured, must be pretty good on the dance floor too. She just never imagined how good. He moved with a feral smoothness, holding her eyes every minute with his own, smiling at her, laughing at himself. He led, he followed, he spun her and held her strongly to gyrate with him as the d.j. played the dark, bass-heavy music the club goers favored. Finally the music calmed into a slowly pulsing rhythm. She took a step back, thinking he'd want to go back to the corner, but his grip became firmer. "Don't go," he told her quietly, and turned her against him where he could press her cheek to his shoulder. She could feel him inhale deeply.

"Nick, come on," she warned half-heartedly. How long, how long, how long, her mind kept repeating. Since she'd had fun, since she'd been genuinely attracted to someone, since being close meant enjoyment and not desperation or pain?

"Sshh," he whispered in her ear, "we're having fun, remember?" But when his lips grazed her neck she lifted her head from his shoulder. His eyes were glowing golden, mouth open a little, exposing the barest fang tips. He didn't even try to hide it. She shot a glance around the dim dance floor, bodies swaying and merging between the dancing shafts of light and waves of mist. He pursued her gaze, made her look at him. "We're among friends," he murmured so low she could barely hear, "it's the new moon," he kissed her and her mouth opened to him before she let herself think of anything else besides being pressed full length against him, one of his hands massaging the small of her back and the other spread across the back of her head, tipping it to the side, holding her, holding her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and they kissed wildly as if they were utterly alone. The song continued, the dance continued, nobody noticed. Except Janette. Maura felt Nick's teeth here and there, her chin, her lower lip, and finally the barest nip at her throat, more a kiss than a drink, but he got the rush just the same, and stood still with her tight in his arms to feel it flow through his body.

"Nick," she muttered against his shoulder, and he knew he was holding her too tightly and let her go, but laid a finger on her lips.

"Sshh." His fingertip traced her lower lip for just a second, and his expression was troubled. "Come on," and with an arm around her shoulders he led her back to where Janette stood.

"Be careful, Nicolas," she told him. "Leave some room for reason..." yet she reached out a hand to barely touch Maura's hair. "This one could be more dangerous than anyone, even as she tries not to be." Oddly, Maura sensed no threat in her words. Just a warning to an old friend who was more than a friend, as if even she hadn't realized what her plan might lead to. Nick didn't answer but stepped in to give Janette a kiss. "Good night." They drove home in silence, and Nick slept on the sofa. When he woke some hours later Maura was gone, leaving behind a single phrase written on his French parchment stationery: "room for reason".

She'd pretended to go to bed when they got back even though it was barely midnight, knowing he wouldn't come upstairs. Not tonight. Once she knew he'd slipped into his death-sleep, she packed her things. She hadn't intended to leave a note because it seemed too maudlin. As she put her hand on the door, though, she realized that given the situation he would assume she'd come to harm. So she went to his desk, wrote three words, and left it on the coffee table where he'd find it when he woke. She slid the door shut as quietly as she could, but even that small noise betrayed her exit and reached Nick deep in his slumber as if some filament between them had snapped. His eyes opened only seconds later.

At Raven, the night was winding down in the hour or two runup to sunrise. Even the mortals, and there were many, fancied themselves creatures of the night. The employed ones were denizens of the graveyard shift, and all made a habit of shunning the daylight if only for fashion. Dungeon bunnies, they were called derisively by the staff behind their backs.

"Vash, where's the boss?" she asked. He shot a look toward the door of the office she'd recently vacated.

"In back, but she's 'entertaining', so can you wait a bit?"

She took a seat and sipped a Coke for the next fifteen minutes or so. A darkly handsome man, dazed, very young, stumbled out of the office. Knowing Janette, as she did after only a week, she had him six ways from Sunday. Adding another few minutes for her to collect herself, Maura approached the slightly open door and knocked. "Janette? Can I come in?"

"Of course you may." If she didn't know better she'd swear Janette was drunk, but knew her intoxication was of an entirely different sort. She reserved her sexual/vampiric encounters for only the most desirable young men, and they would stand in line if such a thing was permitted. It was not. Janette alone made the choices, and the schedule.

She found her boss reclining on the Victorian fainting couch in the corner, wrapped in a silk kimono remarkably like Nick's. Or not so remarkably.

"Back so soon, Maura? I thought you and Nicolas had some things to discuss." She almost sounded genuine.

"Not so much. Look, Janette, I don't want to leave you in the lurch here but something's come up and I've gotta move on. I just came to collect my pay for the week.

"'Move on'? But you've only just arrived." Now Janette sat up and arranged her robe. She was obviously taking this seriously in spite of the lingering effects of her 'afterglow'.

"Look Janette, let's not play games. We both know, we all know, that you set Nick and me up to see what would happen. Well you've seen, and so have we. And I may have traded my self respect for protection in the past, but I won't trade anyone else's. So I think it's time this little experiment comes to an end. I do appreciate your help, Janette, even if I understand that philanthropy isn't your immortal ambition."

Now Janette stood and gestured to a chair. "Please, Maura, don't be hasty. Sit down for a moment." Maura remained standing, so Janette sat down with a shrug. "I admit, I did plan to introduce you to Nicolas as a... diversion. I also admit I had no idea what the result would be. You are a mystery to all of us, you can't blame me for my little game of 'what-if'." Stony silence. "Or perhaps you can." She waved an elegant hand. "But there is no reason to walk away from our arrangement, and endanger yourself again. I can help you find safe accommodation here in Toronto. Or we could convert some of the empty rooms in this building into a flat for you. Even in this short time I have come to appreciate your services, and the staff seem to like you. Beyond their customary interest in mortals, of course." At this Maura had to smile.

"They do seem to treat me more as a colleague than a potential meal." A nod from Janette. Unknown to Maura, she could sense Nick's approach. She saw no reason not to keep the woman here until he could speak with her. She had encountered so many loose ends in her time, she found them distasteful when they could be avoided. And Nick did seem to care for her already. But Maura was insistent.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Janette. This was all just a bad idea, and I'm not blaming you. Who knows, we might have met anyway since he comes here so often. But really, now I'd just like to collect my pay and hit the road."

Janette made a great show of slowly opening the antique safe, taking out the likewise locked antique cashbox, and counting out a pile of bills to hand to Maura.

"Janette this isn't what we agreed on. It's way too much."

Janette shrugged philosophically. "It's only money, cherie. And besides, you'll probably be needing some... what is that quaint mortal term?... 'traveling cash'."

"Okay, then. Thanks, I mean it. You're better than you think," and Maura pocketed the money, exchanged kisses on the cheek with Janette (who nearly swooned at her fragrance), and left the office.

The club was empty now, strangely so, the strobes dark, low room lights not quite dispelling the shadows. Vash was gone from behind the bar, and Vargo, who should have been cleaning up, was inexplicably absent. Oh well. Goodbyes are commonplace for vampires, they exchange so many over centuries. She turned to leave when she saw him.

Nick stood between the ornate pillars by the front door, her bags at his feet.

"I don't need room for reason."

"Consider it a gift." She stayed where she stood, afraid to move closer.

"It isn't yours to give."

She didn't enjoy being the cause of the pained expression on his face. She knew it wasn't only because he was losing something he'd never known he'd want. He felt he'd let her down, that his immortal passions had sold her out as thoroughly as others had done in her life. How could so many emotions burst forth in just a couple of days?

"You're nothing you shouldn't be, Nick. If I can believe it, you can too."

He gestured emptily. "Don't go. Please. At least accept Janette's offer." Vampire telepathy, he didn't insult her by pretending it didn't exist.

"Why Nick? Why is it so important? Is it that my leaving would interfere with your immortal absolution? That's not mine to give either."

"That's not it."

"What then? I don't want to fuck up the balance you've managed here, I don't want to destroy what friendships you have and trip you up on the road to salvation. You're the one good thing I've encountered in this unholy existence, do you really think I want to help you destroy yourself?" She realized her final paradox was to harm the only one who really helped her. She wanted to stay, forever, and continue whatever connection they'd found that might keep them safe from their nightmares. But she couldn't sell him out the way she'd been sold out. She wouldn't. He was walking toward her. She backed away, her resolve faltering.

"I 'balance' between those who want me to become what I can never be and others who insist I need to be who I was so long ago I can't remember him, and don't want to. The truth lies somewhere in the middle, and so far nobody but you has seen it that way. You want to hate Janette for introducing us? So do I. It would have been so, so easy just to keep on keeping on. There's comfort in misery, if you're used to it. But now it's too late to go back. Trust me, I've tried."

"I don't want to destroy you."

At this he laughed quietly. "After 800 years, do you really think all it would take is a little honeysuckle and amber? Nothing in you can hurt me. You make me laugh, you listen to my thoughts, you keep my friends guessing. And all in less than seventy-two hours. Aren't you curious what might happen next?" He moved still closer, reaching a hand to barely touch her cheek. "You feed my dreams. How could that destroy me? Don't go, Maura, please. It doesn't have to be this hard. You don't have to save me, you don't have the power. Why put yourself at risk for nothing? I'll give you a safe place, and you can tell me vampire jokes." When he got no response, he leaned closer, "come on, don't be so dramatic. Come home, we'll watch a movie, I'll sleep downstairs."

She was frowning. Home. He said it so casually, and it sounded absolutely right. He wanted her to come home, and she wanted to go. Tables had turned somehow, he was approaching her angst with the casual logic she'd shown him since they'd met.

"I'm not being dramatic," she protested.

"Prove it," he challenged. "Because if you leave now everyone will just keep believing their own gossip. That you were out to use me and left when I figured it out. That I can't keep even a moderate hold on my 'traditional' weaknesses. Do you really want to concede to Natalie?" Maura raised an eyebrow. How transparent. He reached an arm around her, whispered in her ear, "Come on. I won't bite." She reared back to give him an evil look, and he conceded, "Well maybe just now and then."

"You are a bastard, you know that?"

He kissed her cheek. "I've had 800 years of practice. You're tired, let's go home. I don't wanna go back alone."

"But you've always been there alone." He hadn't told her, but she knew anyway.

Now the joke left his voice. "But I wasn't lonely until you left, and after only two days. Go figure."

Maura heaved a great weary sigh and gave up, dropped her head to Nick's shoulder in defeat. "Okay. Okay. But if you start to go south, I'm gone. Got it?"

A kiss in her hair. "Got it. Which way is south?" he asked with the hint of a grin, "so I can avoid it?" She gave him a shove, and went back to the office where Janette didn't have to listen to hear every word.

"Welcome back. You're on the schedule for tomorrow night. There's a new bouncer starting... a young mortal." A rumor of a smile, anticipating.

"For christsake Janette, when are you going to stop hiring with your hormones?"

"That's why I have you, cherie. Go now, Nicolas is waiting. You have put him through enough, I think, for one night." And Maura nodded. Janette really did love him, didn't she? What kind of bond is forged in 800 years, she wondered.

When she caught up with Nick he was throwing her two bags into the cavernous trunk of the Caddy. They didn't speak on the drive back to the loft, but Maura could feel Nick's fingers toying lightly with her hair where his hand rested on the back of her seat. When they got in she dragged upstairs, exhausted from high emotions and no sleep to speak of. True to his word and over her protests that it wasn't necessary, Nick left her to herself in the bedroom and, after changing into the customary t shirt and sweatpants, went downstairs to sleep on the sofa. But not before hugging her one last time.

"I'd miss you terribly, you know. Surprising what you get used to so quickly." She returned the embrace wearily and crawled into bed as he shut the door part way behind him.

Some hours later Maura woke suddenly, and with a voracious thirst. Creeping quietly down the stairs, she was drawn to guttural sounds from the living room. Nick, in his deep slumber on the sofa, gnashed and twisted in the throes of a nightmare.

The dreams had returned, triggered by his attraction and need. The city was populated by his past, by eight hundred years of those he had betrayed, seduced, destroyed. Every woman whose love was turned upon her with brutal laughter, every man whose confidence was flung in his face with a surge of pleasure only the power of cruelty could have given him. Lying in alleys, fallen by roadsides, left to rot carelessly on beaches and in barns. They all were there, disguised as those people he passed by every day in his work and life. They stared sorrowfully, accusingly, bearing their scars and open wounds as if they'd been inflicted moments ago instead of over the centuries. And suddenly as one they laughed at him, as he had at them, laughed at his need to change that compelled him to do all he could to save those he once would have killed. They laughed because they knew that no penance was sufficient. And they laughed because they knew that this time would be no different, that he would use this woman as he had the others. After a hundred years without killing, this would shatter the balance they knew he really didn't want.

Maura approached the sofa where Nick struggled with some inner visions she couldn't imagine. She dropped to her knees next to him, uncertain how to wake him. He slept so deeply in this state, she didn't know if she could.

"Nick," she whispered, then louder, "Nick." She laid a hand on his chest, the other touching his face. As if some inner circuit had been closed he sprang up and grabbed her brutally by the shoulders, eyes afire, fangs exposed, face twisted in a fierce snarl. He held her so powerfully she couldn't even shrink back, but called to him, "Nick! It's me, it's Maura, Nick it's okay now, you're okay!"

His eyes darkened immediately, face numb with shock. He just stared for a moment, then seized her in such a tight embrace she could hardly breathe, as if he were protecting her from someone other than himself. She wrapped her arms around him, holding his head to her shoulder, pressing her face in his hair, "Nick, it's okay, just a dream, it's okay. Can you tell me?" He was shaking his head, shuddering like a child frightened in the night. His face was pressed into her neck and the pulse he felt there didn't tempt him, it seemed to offer some distant comfort. Warmth, softness, he'd had these things before but this time they existed in someone who was unafraid and couldn't be fooled. Safe, she was safe with him because of who she was and not what he wanted. Maybe that was the only way it would work. Suddenly Maura became for him everyone in the dream, every deceived brutalized and betrayed mortal, every kindness repaid with pain and death. "I'm sorry," he muttered, then she felt something wet on her skin and realized it wasn't her blood but his tears, "I'm sorry I hurt you, I lied to you, I used, you," and Maura was confused at first and thought he was talking about the past few days.

"No, Nick, no, you didn't hurt me, you didn't lie to me, you aren't using me, don't," the intensity of his desperation alarmed her. He was so sure of himself and so secure even in his sadness at times, this wasn't anger or vampire passion or bitter rage. It was grief, and a remorse that usually was played out through this incarnation he had engineered to make up for the past. It seemed that that the guilt he carried every day was rushing out, released by a bad dream. She climbed onto the sofa, still locked in his arms and holding him tightly as she could, "Nick, it's okay, it's all right, you're nobody you shouldn't be, not anymore." But nothing seemed to soothe him as he'd been able to soothe her, and she knew his torment was so much older and deeper than hers that maybe nothing would reach it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated like a mantra until she understood it wasn't her, it was everyone. Centuries of the evil he'd done, put on a shelf but never redeemed even by his best intentions. Maura knew she'd triggered this storm somehow. He was afraid of going back, he wanted her here but was afraid what he'd discovered would revive what he'd been. She managed to pull his head from her, to take his face in her hands and force him to look in her eyes. Deeper than she'd ever seen, there was light flickering, but it wasn't the blood fire this time, it was another sort of struggle. "Nicolas, listen to me, listen, you won't go back. I won't let you. You know what I am, you know you can't control me, I'm here of my own will and I won't let you go back, okay? If it's me, I'll leave first, I promise. You're safe, I'll help keep you safe. I'm not afraid of you. You can't hurt me and I won't let you hurt yourself."

"I'm sorry," he whispered again and she said the only words she knew might reach him even if they didn't make sense to her. "I forgive you, are you listening Nicolas de Brabant? I forgive you, for all of us, for all of them, you aren't who you were. Oh, please, Nick, listen to me!" She even shook him a little, gripping with her hands in his hair. And, suddenly, he was still. His hold on her softened, some of the torment left his expression. He looked as if just now he recognized her, as if he were coming out of hypnosis. He took a deep breath, released it slowly.

"I'm," he began. "Don't say it, okay? Don't. Just tell me you're okay."

Nick nodded a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I think so." He ran a hand through her messed-up hair. "Thanks for not running away."

Maura shook her head a little and smiled. "Not with a grip like yours, man. I couldn't have blasted away." She rested her forehead against his and sighed with relief. "We gotta do something about these mood swings, you know?" She meant both of them. He laughed shakily and let her go, sitting back against the arm of the sofa.

"I don't know if there's a psychiatrist qualified to deal with our 'issues', Maura."

"I think we both need some sleep. I don't know about you but I don't think I've hit REM in the past day or so." She frowned a bit as she pulled back and stood up. "You don't have to stay down here anymore. New moon is past by now, look," and she opened the blinds to reveal the barest sliver of silver crescent low in the sky. "I'm safe now. For both of us." He reached a cool hand to touch hers and brought it near his face.

"But you still smell sweet." He kissed her fingers lightly. "I'll be up in a minute."

Maura was nearly out, but she felt something shift in the bed. He was there, as promised. He must have drunk quite a bit because he was throwing off considerable heat. He slid right over to her, reached his arm across to pull her around to face him. "Let me keep the bad dreams away for you."

"I won't have any more bad dreams, Nick. I really don't think I will. I'm not going to fight anymore, or make excuses for whatever is happening here. I think if I manage not to fuck it up I might just have something resembling a life before too long. Or as close as it's gonna get. And if you can be as brave as I can try to be, maybe you won't have to hold your hand in the sunlight to feel alive."

"But I'm not alive, not really." Honesty, always.

"Yes you are. I don't sleep with dead guys. That would be sick." She made him smile, which felt much better. "I'm so tired, Nick, I don't wanna be all weird anymore. I just wanna get on with things, you know?" She yawned.

"Yeah, I know. C'mere," he pulled her into his arms. "Just this once, let me keep you warm instead of the other way around. Okay?"

She settled against him. He wasn't just warm, he was burning up. "Yeah, okay." Where no heartbeat was she felt instead a stillness not of death but of peace. She asked idly, for no reason, "If you can absorb so much of a mortal by feeding on them, what do you get from that stuff in the bottles?" Though she figured there must be a difference between a live feed and a "preserved" one. There was silence for a moment, then a low "Moooo," in her ear, followed by a laugh and a kiss.

"I sometimes get the urge to lie down when it's going to rain," he told her seriously.

"Sorry I asked."

"I'm not. I love your questions, that you're not ever afraid to ask anything at all. I like having a reason to make stupid jokes. I've always been so serious, so elegant, so taking it all so gravely. I took me 800 years to realize that life doesn't have to be one long film noir."

"Mm, good, I'm glad." She felt drugged by his heat, and still fairly stunned by the absence of fear. She felt a quiet chuckle from within him.

"Sleep, Sweet, I'll shut up now."

That night she didn't pull away from him even when the chill returned. Her warmth was enough for both of them, just this once.