He stayed there with her the next day, calling in sick to the precinct and subsequently ignoring the phone, rising only once to go downstairs and drink three more bottles before returning to her side. He held her wrapped form as best he could, tucked her head under his chin where she sometimes slept while he was still awake reading or listening to music.

Sometime that evening Nick felt Maura stir against him and make the series of murmurs he called her "wake up sounds". She cooed like a dove in small purrs of sound when she was emerging from sleep, making successively more expansive movements as if cautiously exploring the conscious world before she returned to it fully. Now all of that was restricted by her wrappings of silk and velvet, and him.

"Nick?" she barely whispered, voice dry as the desert. He'd forgotten all about what Natalie had said about fluids, and flew down to the kitchen to bring up a large pitcher of water and a glass. Water was best, Natalie had told him, anything else might overpower her digestion at first and she would be badly dehydrated. He was gone only seconds but when he returned to the bedroom she was struggling to sit up, looking terribly confused and disoriented.

"Wha' th' fuck?" she slurred, a hand going to her bandaged throat as she was striving to focus on anything at all.

"Sweet talker," Nick smiled, "here drink this." She grabbed for the glass, suddenly ravenous with thirst. "Slowly," he cautioned, "or you'll make yourself sick."

She gulped down half the glass, then slowed as directed. Nick sat on the bed and reached out to smooth the hair out of her eyes. "Welcome back, Sweet." He leaned over and hugged her head to his shoulder, kissed her hair a few times, and released her.

"Where have I been? I was putting out cases, there was this guy," her eyes flew open as she remembered. "A freak, Nick, he was such a freak. He had come the night before, the night after the awards thing. He talked like he'd seen me before, or knew something about me, but not enough. It wasn't just about what I am, I'm sure of that. It was because of you, he even told me that just before he got me. He knows Janette, he said he knew you, we argued. I told him I wasn't afraid of him and that pissed him off royally."

"That would, more than anything in the universe. He's accustomed to being feared, and obeyed. But feared above all things. He considers it his right." She coughed a little, and he filled the glass again and this time held it to her lips so she couldn't guzzle it down.

"But Nick, it doesn't make sense. I'd never seen him before, never heard anyone mention him, but he told me it was you he's interested in and not me. He called you my 'vampire lover', and 'faux mortal dance partner', my 'latest protector, like he'd seen us at the awards dinner, like he knew who I was to you and it was making him crazy that he didn't know all about it. He knows you and Janette. Who the fuck is this freak, and why did he do this to me?"

Maura saw an expression on Nick's face she'd never seen before: utter shame. Regret was familiar, even guilt, but not this.

"There's nothing I can say to excuse what I've done. I didn't tell you about LaCroix, even though you think I've told you everything, about the things I've done and the terrible things I've been. He's at the crux of all of it, he was my creator, my mentor, he was my partner and lover and guide into the most debauched centuries of my life. He feels he owns me Maura, and maybe he does in some deeper sense that only he can understand."

Still it didn't make sense to her. "But if he created you, if he was so much to you and you to him, why didn't you ever mention him? Did he attack me to get to you? What happened to make him hate you that much, to make you pretend such a huge part of your history never existed?"

"He lost his partner in evil," Nick said simply. With a short sigh he asked her, "Can you just sit back and listen for a bit, and not ask anything until I'm finished? Then you can say, or do, or demand whatever you like. And whatever it is, I'll deserve it. Here," he pressed her back into bed, "lie down. You nearly died," his voice caught on the word, "and it's gonna take a couple days to come back all the way." She looked up at him in consternation, looking (and feeling) as if she were about to hear a very unpleasant bedtime story. Unable to look her in the eye, he began.

"When I was an exalted Knight of the Crusades, I was no better than the people I slaughtered as infidels. None of us were, I suppose, which is what made us such a rich hunting ground for those like LaCroix. He's older than me, centuries older, as is Janette. He'd found her as a prostitute in France, had brought her across as a companion and amusement. And bait. Even Janette and I didn't know how LaCroix started, who brought him across or what he was as a mortal, but as a vampire he found all the power and dominion over others he'd always lusted for, and took full advantage of it. Whatever else he'd been, he was a master debaucher who delighted in manipulating and destroying others. The purer their innocence, the greater the prize. When he gained immortality he reveled in it as a license to indulge every appetite that the laws of mortality had limited. He thought there hadn't been much he hadn't experienced, but he was wrong. And he was delighted, beyond imagining. Once he had Janette by his side they roamed the world in search of the darkest pursuits, the most depraved indulgences. And then they found the Second Crusade, and an endless variety of sin and willing participants in their games. I was one of them, for me too much could never be enough, no orgy drunken enough, no sink of iniquity deep enough. The shredding of the purest flower of virginity only sent me craving someone even more innocent to corrupt and destroy. I was a Knight, we were empowered by the king to do and take and abuse at will. And I did, and I enjoyed every moment of it. I met Janette as a camp follower, she came to me at a feast some landholder had held in order to buy us off. He'd supplied us with food and drink and virgins and whores, whatever we wanted, in order to spare his own family and possessions. And after I had taken Janette in every way imaginable, she took me. It was a new reach of sensuality, even for me. Too much indulgence can dull you, though I didn't realize it until that night, and suddenly my mind and body were on fire, for more."

He seemed firmly rooted in this other world he was describing. Maura interrupted in a hesitant voice, "But you said that this LaCroix created you."

Nick looked down at her as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Janette only indulged me, indulged in me. When we were sated, when I thought we were sated, she went to the door and told me there was someone who wanted to meet me, and stood aside to let LaCroix enter. She'd primed me, see, for him. Bait. And in my state of mind and body, I welcomed him. I wasn't his victim, Sweet, not like you were. I wanted him, and Janette, and all of it, more than life itself. When LaCroix brought me across I fell into it with an abandon I'd never even suspected in myself, for all that I'd done before. And for hundreds of years, the three of us cut a swath through humanity that makes the Marquis de Sade a priest in comparison. In fact we schooled de Sade in his legendary appetites."

She didn't know how to respond, or even if she should. That he had indulged himself in the most perverse behavior in his past was no surprise to her, he had admitted as much to her before. But she'd never known how it had happened until now, she had imagined that he had been taken from a good and compassionate life into an evil one and had made the best of it.

"LaCroix didn't turn me from a life of righteousness," he said, as if reading her mind. "He took on a willing apprentice. And a capable one. Soon all three of us were pimping for each other, or for all of us together."

"But if you enjoyed it so much, if it was just yourself but more so, what made you change your mind?"

Nick shook his head. "I'm not sure. I don't know when I started to notice things. The despair in the eyes of a dying victim, the starvation of their orphaned children. Worse than that, in the end, was the pain in the eyes of those whose trust I had used and betrayed. Who knows why or how it started, but once it did I couldn't stop it. And LaCroix saw. Janette saw it too, but she was always more willing to accept the ebb and flow of circumstance. Her taste was always more for self indulgence than power. Power was a means to an end, but to LaCroix power was the end itself. Like any addict he needed more and more extreme circumstances to help him realize it. Even vampires can be endangered, and it was that recklessness and rage for extremism that finally drove us from him. That, and his unrelenting need to destroy every real connection I might make, with anyone. Any mortal male or female, anything that threatened my devotion to our twisted life made him wild to control me all the more."

This was familiar in the mortal world. "Like a jealous husband. Squared."

"Cubed." Finally he looked her in the eye, the sadness in his breaking her heart even as she felt a growing anger inside at his carelessness with her life. For what? To protect a reputation he didn't need? To defend himself from judgments that it would never have occurred to her to make? He went on.

"LaCroix took to studying me for anything he hadn't noticed in the previous six hundred years. He could read my emotions, emotions you know even vampires are prey to, and began to delight in playing them for effect. He would find a woman he knew I couldn't resist, one who would torment my need to connect with something normal and good, and he would engineer a proximity and finally a connection. If I didn't give in to my own nature he would step in and take her himself, condemning her as unfaithful, as common and boring and unworthy of our kind. He trained me always to be disappointed, wounded and doubtful. Or he would find someone more skilled at deception than I, who would draw me in and destroy me. Over and over he told me that he and Janette and I were the only center of the universe, that nothing else would matter for us and nobody else would understand or protect us as he would. We were too elite for common things like pity or kindness. And in any case, what we were would always have us repaid with hatred and betrayal. Better, he said, to be the betrayer, and to know in advance that there was no reason ever to be otherwise. Anything, he would do and say anything to keep us believing we needed our attachment to him to survive. But when he began threatening that survival and continually shattering any good I reached for, I had enough." He had told her about the ballerina. He had cast himself in the definitive role, though, as if it were he who had shocked himself into awareness. But it was now obvious that it had been the final betrayal before he left LaCroix for good. It had been a very long time ago, perhaps a hundred years, and was the catalyst for his abandonment of preying on humans. In fact he had shut himself away from any attempt at mortal connection since then, even as he mixed with them in this career and that, trying to repay with good deeds and meaningful contributions all of his past transgressions. He seldom really reached out to anyone but other vampires, and then cautiously. LaCroix's determination to keep Nick firmly locked into his "true" nature somehow tolerated that. It was the mortals who were the greatest threat. And that was one of the reasons for Nick's firm parameters surrounding his friendship with Natalie. In addition to believing himself fundamentally unworthy of a true lasting bond with anyone else he didn't want to risk attracting LaCroix's attention, and destroying yet more lives.

"But you knew," she said, unable to stop herself. "You must have known, once I was here, once we suspected what was happening with us, you had to have known he'd be back. Jesus, Nick, he knew right where to find me! He watched us, at the awards dinner, and who knows where else, he had to have, how else would he know what I'd worn? He complimented me on wearing that 'lovely frock, again'." A wave of nausea overcame her, and she suspected it was not related to traumatic blood loss. She rolled on her side, so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"It's okay."

"What's 'okay'?" From where she was, nothing was okay.

"Anything you need to say, or do, or throw at me, I deserve. I have no excuses."

"Well, goody for you," she muttered, not quite under her breath.

"Huh?"

"I said," and she sat up again to face him, "goody for you, you have no excuses. But you're still looking for absolution, aren't you? Still hungering for redemption, along with an occasional taste of my magic blood. Well fuck you, Nicolas de Brabant, I am not your confessor."

She had never used his full name in anger, only in affection. He said nothing.

"I love you. I trusted you. I haven't ever judged you, or wanted you to be anything but what you are. In fact, I may be the only player in your current incarnation who can say that. And it doesn't make me noble, or special. But it doesn't make me a sucker either."

Nick tried to reassure her. "I never used your trust against you. I never lied to you."

Maura wasn't buying. "Wrong, you bastard. You told me I was safe here, from the first fucking night we met you swore to me I'd be safe with you. Lie to me? Not much. You just left out the minor detail that I'd bring the Pervert from Hell back like Armageddon he'd be coming for me first to get to you. I guess that's not really a 'lie', is it, so you're off on a technicality." The bitterness and pain in her voice were worse than any angry outburst he'd imagined might happen. "And for what, huh? To defend your precious reconstruction? How could you think you had to protect a persona you don't need? You knew, from the first time you had me you knew, nothing you used to be could matter to me now. So what could you possibly have to gain from holding something back that could have saved me from this?" She tore off the bandage, knowing instinctively the wound left there hadn't healed. It was, in fact, ugly and discolored, a torn bruised oval that had barely skinned over even two days later. Nick winced at the sight of it. "Not pretty, I guess, is it?" She crawled to the opposite side of the bed as if to get away from him. "How could you not know? Worse than that, how could you know and not believe in me? Goddammit Nicholas he almost killed me! What all the others throughout my life were unable to come close to doing, and you opened the door right up and said come and get it! Here she is, I never even told her about you!" Her eyes narrowed. "So tell me, Nick, was I 'bait', is that it? Longing for the bad old days, too lazy to find your old guru in sadism, so you figured I'd bring him here for you?" His stricken look told her how wrong she was, but it was hard to care.

"Don't you dare tell me I should know better, don't you fucking dare! YOU should know better, when have I ever given you reason to hide yourself from me? Have I ever demanded to know everything, have I ever pushed you to share more than you were willing to? You didn't have to tell me the story of creation, you really didn't, a simple 'This asshole Lucien LaCroix could be coming for you, so watch your back and tell me or Janette if he slinks around', that would have been fine." She backed off the bed, scrambling to her feet. Her outburst had drained everything out of her, and she began to topple. Nick leapt over the bed to catch her as she fell, somehow not surprised that she fought him with what little strength she had.

"Don't fucking touch me, damn you, this is your fault, I came here to be safe and you sold me out for your dumbass myth of redemption. You still won't believe me, you never believe me..."

He restrained her easily and put her back in bed, straddling her to prevent her rolling off again, pinning her wrists on either side of her head. "Stop, Maura, stop this. You're only making yourself worse." She calmed down a little, shut her eyes for a moment. Warily he released her hands, but still sat lightly on her. When she opened her eyes he was looking earnestly at her. "Everything you say is true, I know it. Not about being bait, not about wanting LaCroix to return, " he added hastily, "but everything else. I could have saved you from this, and I didn't. For the first time in memory someone saw me as whole and decent and accepted me as I am, and you're right I knew telling you about La Croix wouldn't change that, I knew but I didn't believe." He spread his palm against her cheek, expecting her to flinch away. She didn't. For that, anyway, he was grateful. "I don't want absolution, or penance, or any of that. I want to tell you I know how wrong I was, because it's all I can do. I know I can't make it up to you, I won't insult you by trying. But I want you to know how I've shaken myself, that when I knew what had happened and that you were hurt and in danger because of me, that all I could think of was that if it were someone else who'd put you in that position I'd kill him where he stood. But it was me. And I don't know what to do except tell you I know, and not make excuses or beg forgiveness, but tell you I'll never ever put you in that position again, not for anything or anyone. I love you, Sweet, I have no right to ask you to believe that after what's happened. But I do."

"Don't call me that," she told him, the core of ice in her beginning to dissolve.

"I have to. You are." He bent and kissed her cheek, so gently, and cool lips felt like sunshine to her. He could feel her face contract under his mouth, and pulled back expecting to see her turn away with disgust. But she was staring wide-eyed at him, her face drawn in a wounded frown.

"Why did you let him hurt me like that, huh?" and she sounded like a little kid struggling to understand. She was trembling, though he knew she wasn't cold. "You said you love me, you said I was safe here. Why did you lie to me?"

Nick sighed painfully. "I didn't lie. I didn't live up to my promise. That's not any better, is it? I'm so sorry." He had been resisting those words that seemed so lame and empty to him, so insulting to what she'd been through.

"Me too," and she heaved a quivery sigh. He thought for a moment she was going to cry, but she turned her face away looking so sad it was even worse than tears. He moved off of her then, stretched out next to her where he'd been for the past day and a half.

"Go drink something," she told him, "you're hungry. And you're cold. But come back after."

Before he was out the door she called to him, still weakly. "Nick?" He turned. "I don't hate you, Just Nick. I love you. But you confuse the fuck out of me sometimes."

His near-smile was pained. "Me too."

Somehow he wasn't surprised to find LaCroix lounging on the sofa downstairs.

"I knew you'd come here. What are you playing at? She nearly died."

"If I wanted to kill her, Nicolas, you'd be mourning her now."

Nick stood before him, controlling his rage but not he red glow in his eyes. "You screwed up, LaCroix. You thought you were in control but your ego controlled you, as always, and almost turned your little warning into a kill."

LaCroix shifted, caught out. "Well, then, Nicolas, all's well that ends well."

"Get out," he spat, and went into the kitchen for a bottle. "I don't care which window you use."

"Why Nicolas, no interest in a little reunion chat? No curiosity regarding where I've been, who I've been, or what or who I've done?" He pulled a face of distaste, aware of what was in Nick's wine glass.

"No. And I can't imagine what you want with me after so long." It was such a foregone conclusion what each would say, there was no point. Nick just wanted him gone.

"Why, everything about you interests me, or have you forgotten? After all, I made you what you are, so what you become is of paramount interest to me."

Nick laughed derisively. "What I am now has nothing to do with you. Some vestiges of our association remain," he raised the glass in a mocking toast, "but little else. Why don't you go bother Janette. She's always been more tolerant than me."

"I have, or didn't she tell you? There seems to be a lot of that going around. But your pet is alive and becoming well, I understand. And you have had a very meaningful talk, so the air is clear between you. No harm done." His attention was distracted from Nick, who followed his gaze to the gallery railing where Maura stood, unsteady but fiery as hell even in her teddy-bear print flannel pj's.

"Fuck you, you freak, yeah I'm still alive."

LaCroix clucked disapprovingly at Nick. "My, my, your new playmate does have a nasty mouth doesn't she? Not as refined as your usual."

A smile pulled at Nick's mouth. "I guess not."

"I suppose I could have the Enforcers teach her a lesson in manners," LaCroix threatened darkly, but Maura just laughed.

"Fuck your Enforcers, and whatever they ride in on. You know from our little soiree that I'm no threat to the Community. In fact I have more in common with your kind than mine. The myth, as they say, has been exploded. Besides, I'm no longer 'at large' to addict and ruin you poor pussies. So how will you justify my 'elimination'?"

He didn't have an answer for that, and her continued laughter made him sneer in frustration. "Haven't you learned to control that creature yet, Nicolas?"

"Why would I even try?"

Maura was feeling dizzy and the last thing she wanted to do was pass out cold in front of this asshole, so she gripped the railing and leaned forward shakily to pronounce, "Get lost, freak. Watch out for pointy sticks, you never know who might be packing one next time you meet her." With that parting shot she stumbled back to the bedroom and fell flat on her face on the bed. Fucking vampires and their eternal dysfunctional families. What she wouldn't give right now for a tank of holy water and a fire hose.

LaCroix pressed a world-weary hand to his brow, looking for all the world like a bested schoolteacher.

"I'm not sure I understand why they are 'prized' by anyone," he sniped.

"I think every home should have one." Nick's mood soured as the events of the past few days were summoned to mind by LaCroix' casual arrogance. "Get out." There were too many other things he wanted to say but he let them go for the time being, knowing this wouldn't be their last meeting.

"The protector rears his righteous head. How... sweet." Nick managed not to react to the obvious reference and denied his reward, LaCroix rose. "Very well, Nicholas. I can see you're in no mood for a tète-a-tète. I'll go now, but not far. And not for long." Choosing to leave by conventional means, he strode to the door. "Do tell your pet adieu for me. She really was exhilarating, I can certainly see the appeal."

"I doubt it," Nick glowered as he slammed the door shut and locked it. A futile mortal convention, he knew, but satisfying nonetheless. After drinking another three bottles he returned to the bedroom, where Maura had lit the candle and crawled back under the covers trembling with cold and weakness.

"Well I'd say you impressed him, and LaCroix is rarely impressed." Nick told her.

"Bullshit. I verbally outflanked him. He'll be back, and more pissed off than curious next time."

Better to change the subject for now. "Drink," he told her, pouring her a glass of water and after she drank it down, another.

"But I'll be peeing all night," she protested.

"No you won't. You're so dehydrated you won't pee for a week, I promise."

She burrowed under the covers. "I'll never be warm again," she moaned. He disappeared for a moment, changed into some fresh silk pajamas and slid into bed.

"Come here, I'll help." She eyed him uncertainly.

"It's only midnight. I won't fall asleep on you, I promise." She knew Nick could remain awake as long as he liked. When working on a demanding case he sometimes didn't rest for days, though he looked more and more like hell as time went on. He reached over his shoulder and pulled one of his beloved history tomes from the shelf behind their heads. His vampire eyes didn't need anything other than the candlelight for reading. He propped up a pillow behind his head and extended his arm in invitation. "Come on. I'm burning up here, don't waste it."

She could feel it even from where she was at the opposite side of the enormous bed. She crept to the middle where he lay and snuggled up against him head to foot, arm around his waist, resting her cheek against his shoulder and sighing as his arm wrapped tight around her. He was right, he was burning up. Between that, her flannel pj's, and the layers of covers finally she felt warm enough.

"Does it ever bother you that I don't have a heartbeat?" he wondered and felt her shake her head against him.

"No, it's just you, isn't it? If Natalie came up with a heartbeat for you it would scare the shit out of me."

"Oh, is that all it would take. Don't let LaCroix find out."

"Not funny." Her voice was pouty and he kissed her in apology.

"I'm sorry, you're right. Now go to sleep, you need it. No more surprises, I promise."

"Mmm." She dropped off without another word. Nick watched her sleep for a while. He knew the only thing that scared the shit out of him was the prospect of her coming to harm. For all of her smart mouth and reactionary rage, Nick knew that the only reason Maura was alive was that LaCroix had not wanted to kill her. The fact that doing so would deprive him of another tool for torment would protect her far better than Nick could for the time being. He'd have to talk to Janette about it and see what she had to suggest, if anything. Before opening his book Nick peered into Maura's serene face. Absolutely at peace. Feeling absurdly content, Nick delved into 16th century Russian aristocracy, one hand tangled in her hair.

From time to time Maura made small sounds in her sleep, murmurs and near-whimpers that would silence when he moved his fingers a bit. Some of that sleep-code was also evident, the kind of thing that mortals were terrified would reveal their innermost secrets while they slept, that to the waking world emerged as gibberish. A few coherent words formed, "No," and later "don't". Nick could feel Maura was sleeping soundly, with no evidence of bad dreams, and realized those words could easily connect in her dream world to "No, I don't want to watch that movie," or "don't leave your bloodstained wine glass in the sink, yuck." At one point she said, very distinctly, "bats," which forced Nick to stifle a laugh.

"What is going on in there?" he asked quietly, kissing her head. She didn't wake, but burrowed a little closer. A sigh escaped him. Right now she was soft and warm next to him. Awake she was strong, smart, edgily defensive. So unlike the others who had shared his ethereal melancholy. She was wearied enough by her life to take everything as it came, not expecting the worst but ready to deal with whatever on its own terms. Even in the presence of wit and wisdom and strength, it had always been the melancholy that triggered his longing. But this one he couldn't even hypnotize. It was this kind of woman he had never had much luck with, too sharp to be fooled and too suspicious to easily be victimized. Since Maura's arrival he felt frequently overmatched, and that increased his attraction. Equal ground was something unfamiliar to him and it was becoming more and more appealing. More than once he'd found himself wondering if she were right, if it were an unrealistic fear that kept him from making love with her beyond their vampiric liaisons. It could well be that the connection between sex and death he'd experienced for so long was one of habit and not of nature, a function of his depraved past life. His hand wandered from Maura's head until his fingers trailed inside the collar of her pajamas to the join of her neck and shoulder, the place where he buried his face before sharing her blood. He'd tried to convince himself that, too, was mere habit. As usual his inner, honest self knew better. Soft, sweet, so warm, the strength of her mind and wit and character found an alter-ego in her flesh and it was important to him to be reminded of that before he took from her even what she shared so freely. He replaced his book on the shelf and slid down a bit in bed so he could hold her properly, her head under his chin. She mumbled, "Mmm, bats," and squashed her face into his shoulder. Ah, he realized with a smile, so that was his (subconscious) code name. Certainly he'd been called worse. Shifting to his back, he positioned them so Maura could easily move away when his body temperature fell. He decided to check with Natalie next evening regarding her search for a chemical "thermostat" for him. He'd be grateful for a temporary, even a one-time, fix. Just once he'd like to wake up with Maura as close as she was when he'd fallen into sleep. He felt inside the same niggling curiosity he'd felt before he'd taken her that first time, what would it be like? He'd experienced every kind of physical pleasure he could imagine was possible, but what would it be like with someone who knew all about him, who didn't come to him a victim or a fellow traveler desperately lonely or mad with blood lust? Maura wanted him, she'd made that much plain, and as in all things she wanted him complete in his darkness and struggling light. It was all one to her, and the prospect was unlike anything he'd considered before.

Maura startled Nick by opening her eyes just as he was staring intently into her face. In fact, they both jumped.

"What? Am I changing colors or something?" she mumbled, waking more suddenly than she liked.

"Ssh, go back to sleep."

"I dunno, you're eyeing me like I'm your next meal."

"Now, there's a thought..." he kissed her cheek and then her neck, and taking his cue she tipped her head a bit to the side. He didn't just take from her during the new moon, but now and then when they were close and quiet they joined like this. Her pulse beat against his tongue, drawing him in as always, but something in it was weaker this time. He drew back, suddenly mindful of the events of the past couple of days.

"What?" she wanted to know. Given the pleasure she got from the experience, this was kind of like screeching to halt in the middle of foreplay.

His brow was knit in consternation. "I don't know what I was thinking, it's too soon." Then his expression softened with a smile as if he could change the subject that easily, "Go to sleep, Luna." She liked the way her nickname sounded in his mouth. She didn't like the way he withdrew to lie on his back, not touching her.

"You're not seducing a rape victim, Nick."

"Oh, for... Maura, really."

"Yeah, really," she rose on an elbow to stare at him. "You have more reasons for going into hiding than anyone I ever met." That's what she called it when his internal walls rose, often quite suddenly. She leaned closer, ignoring his distasteful expression and the fact he was staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah, he hurt me. Bad. But you don't, not ever. Okay, it was like rape, it was rape, you know it was, being forced into something like that always has been. And it's dirty and it's painful. But you haven't ever made me feel that way. You can't possibly think it's the same thing. Do you really think I can't tell the difference?" His eyes flickered toward her, uneasily persuaded. She kissed his cheek and rolled over on her side. A moment later he was close behind her, arm around her waist, face against the back of her head, but silent.

"You know how you make me feel, Just Nick?" she asked as if she were talking to herself. "Like I belong."

"No to me..." He sounded uneasy about that possibility.

Brother, she thought, male ego was universal. "No. Here. Like I belong here. Not to you, with you. Even when you're lying there as gone as you can be and still and cold as stone, I belong here. So don't you worry about your busted thermostat, or whether or not you touch me the right way. And I won't worry about making you see yourself exactly as I see you, or beating you into accepting all your best of dark and bright. Everything will find its own way. Deal?" The arm around her squeezed her back against him.

"Deal."

Maura tried so hard to overcome the chill that grew in him, but she couldn't suppress a shiver. He kissed the back of her neck with cool lips and pulled away to lie on his own side of the bed. "'night, Sweet." Her only response was a sigh.

"What?"

She lay on her back next to him, staring into the darkness. "Remember what I said about 'no drama'?"

"Sure."

"It's not exactly working out, is it?"

Nick laughed and reached over for a last kiss goodnight. "Everything will find its own way. Deal?"

"Deal."