Dreams

Chapter 11

Kerry awoke with a start the next morning with drool coating the pillow beneath her chin in a layer of saliva. She wiped at her mouth, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized that Michel's visit hadn't been a horrible dream. There had been another death somewhere in town, and she had hesitated too long to be in on the scoop. She didn't know what it was, but when Michel was involved she found herself putting her problems with him in front of her own career. She wouldn't make sacrifices for him when they were together, so why was she willing to hurt her job just because they had gotten in a fight?

There was no safe way to answer that question.

The sun was shining in her bedroom window, almost mocking her with the pure light as it shined through the translucent curtains and enlightened the white goose-down comforter over the bed. She had seen the movie-set quality of her bedroom in the morning light before, but today it seemed off and fake to her critical eyes.

She felt hung over, a headache gathering just behind her eyelids and radiating down to her toes. She thought it might be from lack of sleep, but knew that wasn't the case. After Michel had left, she had stared blindly at the wall for an hour or so, and then dropped off into a comatose deep sleep, where she was barely aware of the phone ringing and Luke stumbling out of bed and into his police uniform, kissing her forehead before he left. This morning, as Kerry fingered his cold, empty side of the bed, she knew he had been called on-duty on his night off to deal with another body.

As she rolled out of bed and into the kitchen for some coffee, Kerry couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had gotten that call and she hadn't been beside him? Would he have been surprised to arrive on scene and find her already there? Angry and betrayed she hadn't woken him up? Or would he have understood her drive for the truth?

For some reason, Kerry didn't think he would have even recognised the latter. In their short relationship, she hadn't quite displayed her usual intensity for her job. It had been a while since a story drove her beyond the levels of comfort and into an investigation in which she risked everything: her job, her relationships, her freedom, and her life. In some odd way, she recognised the fact that Michel was the reason she was back to being herself.

Maybe she just needed closure.

She wasn't the type of girl who needed a man in her life in order to function normally.

Within the hour, Kerry found herself sitting at her desk at work. Without Dr. Roberts as her contact in the medical examiner's office, she had no inside information about the newest victim other than a name and the location he was found in. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to figure anything out when no one would supply her with pictures of the crime scene.

She also wasn't sure why exactly she was still working on the case. She could say it was because she was deeply embroiled in it now, and that she had to satisfy her own curiosity, but she had a feeling that really she wanted to prove that she could. Sure, she wanted to prove it to him, but there was someone far more important who needed to learn exactly what she was capable of: herself.

"I still can't believe you're engaged!" Nelle exclaimed, plopping her butt down on the corner of Kerry's desk. Kerry looked up from the papers spread across every available surface, jarred out of her work by Nelle's arrival.

"I thought we were taking a late lunch today because you had that wedding shoot," Kerry said in dismay, looking at all the work before her with a sinking feeling. She had gotten so wrapped up her research that she hadn't even written the articles her boss was expecting from her for the day.

Nelle gave Kerry a look of disbelief, flicking the mouse so that the computer screen popped back to life. "It's already two o'clock, see?" She shook her head, staring at Kerry in concern. "What's wrong? You usually don't become so involved with your work unless you're avoiding something. Trouble in paradise already?"

Kerry glared at her best friend, angered by the fact that Nelle didn't even seem to care that people were dying. "This has nothing to do with Luke. There's a serial killer out there in the streets of Brockport. Dr. Roberts is dead, and –" Kerry cut off, realizing that Nelle probably wouldn't understand why she was so deeply involved in the case, her relationship with Dr. R notwithstanding.

"And what?" Nelle demanded, giving Kerry a sharp look. "It's up to you to bring his murderer to justice? It's up to you to go behind the backs of the authorities and solve the mystery like Nancy Drew or something? Don't be stupid. I know what this is about. You're just scared that Luke isn't the one."

Kerry sighed with impatience, realizing this conversation wasn't about to go away. "There is nothing wrong between Luke and I."

"Being alone is a scary thing. Are you sure you really love him and don't just love the idea of having someone?"

"Of course I love him," Kerry responded with surety. The question made her really look at Nelle, curious as to why she was bringing all this up. Nelle thought Luke was a miracle. "What's this about?" Kerry asked. "You think Luke is the greatest thing since sliced bread."

"Forever is a long time to wear the wrong ring," Nelle said sagely, getting up from her position against the desk. "We'll do lunch tomorrow. I'll bring you back a sandwich."

"Thanks," Kerry said distractedly, already deep in thought at Nelle's words. There were many parts of conversation that she would dissect over the next few days, but right now 'being alone is a scary thing' kept circling through her brain, over and over again until she was sure there was something important about the words. Could it really be that simple, she wondered? Could the fact that each of the victims had been alone at the time of their death really be the connecting piece?

She was sure at some point over the last week she had realized all of them had been alone when then died, but she never really considered that it might be the reason they died.

Maybe Dr. Robert's death was less her fault than she realized. Or possibly, that made it more her fault for making sure he was never on his own.

She stayed in the office until late, debating whether she should jot Michel off an email of her findings. On paper, it seemed so insignificant to say that they were looking for a vampire deliberately targeting men between the ages of 40-60 who were alone. She thought it might be an exercise in redundancy, and worse still as though she was offering the olive branch to him when really she just wanted to reverse her decision to be left out of the loop. They were both adults. They could probably work together without too much mishap, right?

She didn't believe that either, but an email was a far cry from tracking him down and pinning him against a wall. Nelle's words kept circling through her head, and she knew that there was something about the phrase that bothered her, kept her from leaving behind all the documents she had spread out in front of her. Even the pictures of Dr. Robert's murder scene were on the table, the colors shocking and garish against the muted beige of the table.

The blood was obviously gone, but she wondered if a vampire could really drink that much of it and maintain a visible sanity. Her fingers itched to ask.

Kerry was still lost in thought, the email half composed on her laptop in front of her, when her cell phone rang. She jumped, looking at the call display before answering. She didn't recognise the number, but often Luke would call her from a payphone while on the go if he happened to be taking a break at Duncan Donuts or something. "Hello?" she asked, maximizing the window to her email account.

"Kerry, this is Dave. I think we've found something out – Lucy and I—could you come over to talk about it? I don't want to get too specific on the phone and we can't leave the house because of our son." He was obviously apologetic about this, though Kerry didn't think he needed to be. She had been in the same position when Ian was younger and she was supposed to be keeping an eye on him. It was difficult to have any kind of life when a child was involved.

"Of course!" Kerry told him, exiting the window for the email without saving it and shutting down her computer. "I can be there immediately."

She hung up and put on her coat, slightly surprised to find the time to be after eleven at night. She hadn't realized it was that late, but it would explain the need she felt for a gallon off coffee. She hadn't been sleeping well for the last couple of evenings, and she had been busier than ever. In truth, she was really thriving these days, and felt like her job had finally turned her way. With that thought on her mind – that the conference room she had taken over with her things finally looked like how she pictured her job would be – she left the office with a smile on her lips and a wave and goodnight to the on-shift security guard at the front desk.

There was no traffic on the streets as she drove to Ethan Bryne's old place, and as she focused on her driving she couldn't help but wonder if he was there, and if Dave had deliberately not mentioned that. She wouldn't be upset, she decided, but she also would not appreciate the subterfuge. A few weak glares would be in order.

She turned into the driveway, once again feeling the inadequacy of her rustmobile in the driveway of such a perfect house. She hoped the oil didn't decide tonight would be the night it would restart the chronic leaking she had been plagued with since buying the car second-hand. Well, even if it did, the very small, revenge-driven person inside her said he deserved it a little bit. She stepped out of her car, feeling the cool air hit against her leg as she stood, locking her car without thought as she made her way towards the front door. The house, as always, was far too beautiful in its own right to resist, and she felt calmed by the idea of being able to sit in it one last time, even if Michel wasn't there. Even though all the years she had missed him, she has also missed the house and she never stopped loving it even when she stopped loving him.

Before she knew it, Dave was ushering her into the house, explaining that the lil one was sound asleep upstairs, so could she please take off her heels on the welcome mat? Kerry then padded into the living room, the hardwood floor cold on her bare toes.

"Kerry," Lucy said welcoming. "Please sit down."

Kerry was pleased to see her apprehension was for nothing. Michel wasn't there, and she didn't think he was the type to hide behind closed doors and then pop out at her when she least expected it. He was far more forthwith about these things. If he was going to waylay her at any point tonight, he would have been sitting in the living room when she arrived with his mocking grin firmly on his face, and she would have either wanted to slap him or walk out. She used to have a third reaction to that smirk, which was to sit in his lap and kiss it away, but she didn't think he'd ever be able provoke her enough these days to do that.

But she was glad she wasn't being tested nonetheless.

Kerry sat in Michel's favourite seat without noticing the irony, curling her feet beneath her and also not noticing how rude that was considering he was not her host.

"Would you like some tea, coffee, pepsi?" Lucy asked as Dave sat beside her on the couch.

"No thanks," Kerry responded, mentally rubbing her hands together at the idea that this mystery might just about be solved. Her curiosity always won out. "You said you've found something."

"Yes," Dave responded. "But you might not like it."

Kerry raised an eyebrow.

"We think the killer is Michael."

Kerry snorted, her lips curling up in mirth until she looked at the serious expressions on their faces, Lucy's brow scrunched up in concern, and realized they were serious. Her expression froze. "No, you're wrong," she said with the absolute surety of someone who was one in love with him.

"Just hear us out," Lucy told her insistently, leaning forward. "I know you don't want to hear it, but we have good reason to suggest he could be a murderer. It took us a while to see through it too. We liked him too much to even question him."

It was on the tip of Kerry's mind to point out that Michel hadn't even been in town for the first death, and that he wasn't capable of murder to this degree, but she didn't believe that. She did believe, however, that he wasn't capable of it without a really good reason and/or purpose behind it. So she stayed quiet, just to see what they would say.

"I know you think he wasn't in town for the first few, but he's been around. He's been living in some town in southern Ontario for the last month and came to visit us a few times."

Kerry could feel her heart rate pick up. They weren't convincing her any differently, but she told herself she didn't know what else it could be. It certainly wasn't because he had been so close to her without her even knowing about it or because she couldn't help but wonder if he had been watching her from the shadows while she was completely oblivious. She didn't know if he could visit Brockport without giving into his own curiosity. She was sure she wouldn't be able to. "What reason would he have to kill those people," she asked, because she really believed he hadn't done it.

"To get your attention?" Dave asked. "Lucy and I were talking about it, and she thought it might have more to do with the fact that Michael will never get to be the age they are, that he'll be stuck as a nineteen-year old boy forever. It made him bitter, and finally broke him."

This time Kerry did laugh. "Would you two listen to yourselves? That's crazy. Michel likes who he is very much, what age he is. He once told me that it has so many benefits that he would never want to age beyond where he is. And there are far more fun ways for him to get my attention and keep it. He could have killed my fiancée, for one."

"You're getting married?" Lucy asked, her eyebrows winging up.

Kerry nodded sharply, wondering how the topic changed so quickly. "Yes. Michel is not happy, but I don't believe he'd kill over it, just like I don't believe he's gone crazy. I'd just as soon believe one of you did it."

"I wish you hadn't said that," Lucy said mildly, as something heavy slammed into the back of Kerry's head and she felt like her brain was exploding for a moment before everything went black.

He always had more self-confidence than anyone I knew. He could be anyone he wanted to be, changing between personalities more fluidly than a professional model dons new clothing, and they were all distinguishable from one another in some respect. He never broke character, not even around me. I never assumed he could be himself around me, but I thought that maybe he allowed me to see facets that other people didn't get a chance to see. Maybe he allowed whatever current cloak he was wearing to relax a bit, or maybe he just layered it on top of the one labelled "Ethan Bryne" and "Michel—Kerry's".

Sometimes, I didn't think he actually had a true self. His true self was a chameleon, constantly changing, and that's the way he likes it. Other times, he would look at me a certain way and I was sure I was seeing the real Michel.

Tonight, he interrupted a birthday party I was at with a date, walking into the restaurant in such a way that drew gazes without anyone really looking at him. His hair was slicked into a fauxhawk and his eyes were dramatically lined in black. There was a tattoo peaking out of his collar which looked real, but I knew was fake. What really drew my eye – and likely the eye of every other woman in the restaurant – were his tight leather pants that framed all the right areas and highlighted the muscles in his legs. My eyes were already following his crotch when they happened to look up to his face and I was jolted by the realization that not only did I recognise him, but I had already seen him naked. And he was heading this way. A blush rapidly spread up my cheeks as he smirked knowingly at me, moving in a quick, fluid motion until my head was bent back and he was kissing me.

I forgot about everything in that kiss, awareness of him pumping through my sizzling blood, making me dizzy. "Hi," he whispered, mouth hovering a breath away from mine. "I'm Daniel, and you're going to take me home tonight."

I blinked at him, my brain slow to compute after that kiss.

"Oh my God," one of my friends said. "That's the hottest thing ever."

My hand was in his and he was dragging me from the seat and towards the door before I could really recover my wits. I could hear my friends start to giggle and gossip behind me, jeering on the guy I was dating for being stood up in such a blatant manner. Michel's hand was cool within mine, and I was suddenly reminded that my jacket was still on the back of my chair. The cold air from outside hit my bare arms as we approached the door, and he swung his jacket off his shoulders and around mine in one smooth movement. Someone, presumably from my table, cheered and whistled as he opened the door and gestured for me to exit before he did.

"Michel," I whispered, tightening my finger in his. "I was on a date. Out with my friends. Isn't that the kind of situation you try to avoid?"

He twirled me around in something reminiscent of a dance move, our fingers still intertwined as he kissed me again, thoroughly, beneath the sparkling holiday lights decorating the front of the restaurant. Snow was lightly falling over his dark hair, and a flake caught in the webbing of my eyelash before melting, making his visage burn and waver for a moment. My fingers curled around his neck, one hand splayed across his slowly-beating heart, and I thought of how perfect it all was.

That night would be the last time I saw him for four years.

But he had given me every reason to believe he would be responsive when I asked him to allow me to stay.

Kerry awoke to the cold. For a moment she was comforted by the idea that maybe Michel had snuck into her room again and curled around her. Then, she noticed that her arms were awkwardly stuck above her head, fingers gone numb. She panicked, feeling confused and frightened at the memory of the look on Lucy's face when Dave knocked her out. She now knew they were definitely the killers, not Michel. At the same time she was sure she wouldn't have figured it out if they hadn't shown their hand. They had a small, human child for God's sake, and Dave was only recently turned.

She was comforted by the realization that Michel had probably overlooked them as well, but at the same time it made her realize he wouldn't magically show up to save her ass this time. The thought made her heart leap up to her throat. Kerry tested the bonds her wrists were bound in, realizing she probably wouldn't be able to save herself either. She could feel her hope drown in tears with every tug.

Kerry struggled in vain until blood was trickling down her arms and her wrists were raw and painful. Even then she kept tugging, hoping for some give.

She was going to die, and the only good thing that would come from it was that she would break the pattern. If Dave was smart, he wouldn't kill her in a way that seemed like the other vampire deaths, and she was sure if that happened the only one who would realize the truth would be Michel. If he cared enough to even pay attention to her death. It was possible that her body would wash up in the river and he would know she died figuring out the mystery, but he wouldn't care. It was also possible he was so far away from here that he wouldn't even hear about the fact she was dead. Dave just wouldn't tell him, end of story.

Kerry always hated the idea of dying for no reason.

Don't worry, she told herself, Luke will notice you've disappeared. But that wasn't true either. Their schedules were so different that she hadn't even seen him yet today. He might not think anything of it for more than 24 hours. If Dave really was a murderous genius, he would have her dead and gone by that point.

With this train of thought she was surprised to find the door to her chamber open and Lucy step in, flicking the light on. It blared in Kerry's eyes and she squinted against it as a cart was wheeled in and placed beside the bed she was in. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, not foolish enough to think Lucy was going to let her go.

"Because," Lucy responded, fiddling with something on the cart that Kerry couldn't see. "I really love this house."

She was still in Ethan's house, Kerry realized disquietly. She was going to die in the place she always wanted to live.

"He left it to you, you know," Lucy continued. "In his living will. If he disappears from the country for more than 6 months without any contact with his lawyer, the house becomes yours. If you get married first, it becomes a wedding gift."

Kerry couldn't speak beyond the buzz in her head. He had given her the house, despite the fact it was one of the only things he owned that he wanted to keep for himself. Did that mean he...? She couldn't even voice the word in her head, hadn't let herself ever think of it because she knew it was impossible for him to really have feelings for her. It confused her that he would make sacrifices for her, especially considering he was willing to give her the house to live in once she married Luke. It was... unimaginable. "He didn't," she denied.

"He did. Can you imagine our surprise when we found out the house wasn't coming to us? He changed Dave you know, years ago when he was still living here. But you messed that up too, and he gives you our house on top of it?" Lucy's voice remained strangely calm through the entire speech. Kerry could finally see what was in her hand, and it put shivers of fear up her spine.

"It's not my fault. Killing me won't do anything," she pointed out. "Do you really think he'll give you the house if I'm out of the way?"

Lucy finally smiled, cold and deadly. "You're the bait, dear. If he'll give you a house, he'll show up if we send his phone a picture of you tied to the headboard of his bed, dying."

Kerry shook her head in denial, but Lucy was still standing over her with the needle. "Shhhh," she told her, putting a hand over Kerry's mouth. "Shhh." Kerry barely flinched as the needle went into the artery in her neck, too frightened to move, fearing that one wrong move would rip open her jugular. With the rapid beat of her heart, her blood quickly moved down the tubing in a rapid red cascade. She tried to convince herself to calm down, that she would only die quicker if she kept panicking, but her blood kept flowing at an alarming rate, pooling in a bag still on the cart.

"He won't take the bait," she denied, even as Lucy raised her phone and snapped a picture. "He doesn't care that much, not enough to risk his own life."

"I disagree my dear. Once he sees that we'll kill you like we killed the others, he'll come to stop us. He might convince himself it's for the good of vampire kind and not because of you, but I know different. That's why I have Dave waiting downstairs, ready to shoot your precious Michel the moment he walks in the house. And no warning shots to the knees. Haha," she laughed. "He won't even see it coming."

"You're mad," Kerry snarled, but bit her tongue. If they wanted to think they could fool Michel with such an easy ploy, they were seriously underestimating him. A woman with a child (and possibly a serious mental problem) and a newly turned vamp against Michel? It was almost laughable. Her face didn't show the fact Lucy's words had the opposite effect on her, calming her rather than making her more frightened or worried about the outcome of all this, but the flow of her blood slowed as her heart rate decreased. She still wasn't convinced that Michel would come to save her, especially considering the last time she had seen him she had pretty much pushed him out of her life, but if he did she wasn't worried for him.

He'd mop the floor with the blood of these fools.

"Once the two of you are gone," Lucy continued, "we'll be free to live here forever. The house will be ours."

"That doesn't make sense," Kerry mused sluggishly. She was starting to feel the effects of blood loss. One bag had already filled up and Lucy had exchanged it for another. She stared at them lined up on the cart, marvelling how much blood the human body could hold. "Is this how you did it? Is this how they all lost so much blood but without the crazy vampire insane with insat... insash... insatiable bloodlust?"

Lucy snorted. "Of course. Didn't you figure it out when you first saw the needle, or are you not as clever as he said? You know, I've heard him say a lot of things about a lot of women, that they're sexy, or cute, or dumb as a doornail but good in bed, but he has never just shook his head and said one was clever before. Clever! He's never even given me a compliment like that before!"

Despite the fuzzyness of her mind, Kerry recognised the tone of someone in love with Michel but who also hated him. She had heard it in her own voice many times over the last year. "Oh," Kerry said meaningfully, giving Lucy a sympathetic look. Kerry guessed that when she was sixteen that Lucy must have been around twenty-two, and since she was now older than that and Michel still pulled at her heartstrings, she could see it would be easy to fall for him at that age.

"What? What?" Lucy shrieked. "What could you possibly have inferred from that?"

"You loved him. I understand how easily it happens, and Ethan Bryne's personality was meant to be one of his more charming ones. It wasn't my fault he disappeared all those years ago, you know. Even if I wasn't involved, he still would have left when Marsala killed Regina."

"You don't know anything," Lucy sneered, changing the bag to a third one. Kerry's vision was starting turn black with golden flecks of light around the edges. She was woozy and oh so dizzy that it took her multiple blinks to clear her vision enough to stare at the other woman.

She thought it was possible Lucy was right. If Kerry knew anything at all, she wouldn't be antagonizing the woman slowly bleeding her dry. "I know what I would do for him," she reminded Lucy calmly. "I've killed for him before, and isn't that what you're doing. This isn't about the house at all, is it?"

"Shut up!"

"It's about losing him," Kerry continued, her mouth dry and the words slurred, but she couldn't stop now. "You didn't think any woman had a chance with him. It was about pride. You don't mind that you didn't hold his attention, but you do care that someone else, someone you consider to have taken him away from you, you care that he seems to hold her in greater esteem than he did you and still does, even eight years later. I can't imagine what that must have felt like, recognising my name on his will when he asked Dave to be the executive of it – he did, didn't he? – and knowing I was the one who took him away from you, both because you blamed me for the Marsala thing and because eight years later and he still wasn't willing to give you the house he considered to be his favourite thing." She was rambling now, trying to stay lucid even as Lucy angrily changed another bag to make four. Her heart hurt with the idea that this would be half of her entire blood capacity.

She didn't know why Lucy was so carefully saving the blood, but thought it might have something to do with Michel that she couldn't figure out right now.

"He loves me," Kerry finally slurred, though she didn't believe it for one moment. "He doesn't want to, but he does. I conflict him. He was always sure about his lack of feelings for you, and he'll kill you without hesitation. You've put them all in danger, and he'll kill you for it."

"He doesn't love anyone and he won't kill me because Dave will kill him!"

Kerry started to laugh, starting with a low chuckle and then burbling with hysterics.

"Shut up." Lucy told her. When Kerry didn't stop, Lucy grabbed a scalpel from the table and showed it to her. "I really don't need you alive."

Kerry eyed her, about to mock and claim that Lucy wouldn't do it, but it was too late. Lucy's arm was already moving towards her neck, quickly slicing across the flesh with a quick stroke. Kerry felt a quick flash of pain and she gasped, some vague, CSI-watching part of her mind realizing that if she could breathe and wasn't choking on her own blood Lucy hadn't hit the trachea. "Bitch," she hissed, feeling the wetness of her blood pool against her collar in warm spurts. It wasn't moving as quickly as she thought it would, and some part of her which could still see the world beyond the blackness wondered if she had already lost too much blood for her veins to really spurt.

"Lucy," Michel said from the doorway. He had arrived so silent, just appearing as far as Kerry could tell. His eyes moved from the woman standing beside to bed to Kerry, his expression becoming closed as he took in her blood and the binds still holding her hands in place. He didn't say anything, merely raised a gun and shot Lucy through the head.

Kerry was convinced Michel was a hallucination until Lucy's blood sprayed over her face, surprisingly warm. Kerry slowly looked over to where Lucy had been standing, her brain unable to really comprehend what happened. The gun thudded as it hit the wall, and she blinked, incredibly slowly, seeing Lucy's body crumpled against the floor and blood flowing into a dark pool beneath her.

"Jesus. Jesus." Michel was saying, straddling her on the bed. Her attention moved towards him, so sluggishly she had a flash of fear and then it was gone, forgotten about. His fingers were at her neck though she couldn't feel anything but coldness, and she wondered if that was bad. "Look at me Kerry," Michel was saying. "You look at me."

"Love you," she whispered, thinking he should know. "Only."

"I know," he said impatiently. "Now you listen to me. I'm holding the artery in place and I'm going to call 911. Listen to my voice and stay awake. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes," she said slowly, but was already drifting.

His hand patted her cheek, trying to keep her awake. "Open your eyes," he told her angrily.

She did, her head feeling surprisingly alert even if her brain didn't seem to be working. He used his left hand to pull his phone out of his pocket, and she noticed it was coated with red. Her dim wits took longer than they should have to comprehend it was her blood. "I need an ambulance," Michel was saying into the phone, rhyming off the street address. "Bring B+ blood. She's lost a lot of it. The artery in her neck has been sliced open. Yes, I'm pinching it closed with my hand. Yes, I can identify her – Kerry, look at me goddamnit – her name is Kerry Nowicki, and I'm not answering any more questions." He hung up the phone, his fingers brushing against her cheek. "You'll be ok. Can you hear me?"

Kerry tried to say yes, but her mouth opened without any sounds emerging. She could see it in his eyes that he knew he was lying to her. She thought it was a profound realization for the moment.

"You're too stubborn to die, aren't you?" he asked.

She was physically shaking, she knew from the way he was pressing her shoulder in place now in order to not dislodge the fingers of his right hand, though she couldn't really feel it. The world was black again, and she couldn't see him. "Don't you die on me!" he told her. "Don't die."

Some part of her deep in her soul broke at his words, and a tear trailed down her cheek, over the bloody handprint he left.

"Kerry!"

Though she was still tenuously clinging to life, she didn't hear when the police raided the room, yelling at Michel to put his hands up. She missed how he yelled back he was FBI, telling them that if he moved his hands that she would lose whatever blood was left in her body and die, but if they really needed to positively identify him right now, his ID was in his jacket pocket. She also missed how he snarled at Luke when he jarred Michel's arm searching for a wallet, calling him an idiot and a fool who didn't deserve someone like her. She later heard about it from Kevin. He also told her how Michel had deliberately antagonized Luke by brushing a tender kiss across her lips when the ambulance pulled up, whispering she just had to hold on a little longer. That was something she hadn't missed.

x.x.x

When Kerry woke up thirty-six hours later, her father was sitting by her side with Ian. She blinked at them, shocked to still be alive. She just couldn't fathom why she hadn't died that night. It seemed impossible. She could hear the machines beeping in the background and they made her head hurt. Her entire body was sore, except, ironically, her neck. It felt stretched tight, and oddly tingly.

"Kerry's awake!" Ian exclaimed, seeing her eyelids flutter.

"I'm alive?" she croaked. "He did it?" She hadn't thought he could pull it off, assumed he would see how hopeless it all was and get away before he was recognised, arrested, left out in the sun to be executed. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her father, seeing them, assumed she was in pain and pressed the button to give her morphine.

The next time she woke up Luke was beside her, giving her a puppy-dog glance. "That man," he demanded the moment Kerry opened her eyes. "Who was he?"

Kerry ignored him, pretending to frown in confusion. "Man?"

"The one who "saved" your life. He wouldn't let me touch you, though I tried explaining I was your fiancée and a police officer. He called me an idiot."

Kerry closed her eyes again, head hurting, and feigned sleep this time. It was difficult when the corners of her mouth wanted to quirk up in amusement.

Her father and Ian visited whenever possible, but she was surprised when the next day Kevin stopped by her room with a bouquet of hideous flowers. "Luke's spitting mad," he explained, putting the vase on the table. "I thought you might like something to pretty up your room, but it looks like you have other friends."

Kerry smiled at him, genuinely meaning it. "My co-workers sent me flowers to celebrate breaking the story. Apparently I wrote in a draft before I was even out of surgery." She had a sneaky suspicion who really wrote her expose too. "But none of them mean as much as flowers from a friend, so thank you."

Kevin looked uncomfortable, used to the only words the two of them exchanged to be witty banter. "So I didn't know you knew FBI! You get around."

"Considering he's an exboyfriend," she found herself saying beyond all reason, "then you mean that literally."

"That explains it," Kevin said with a nod as he settled himself into the visitor's seat. He was the first who came to see her who treated her normally, not like an invalid. Luke, of course, hadn't treated her like a dead woman walking either, but his reaction was far more disconcerting, as though his jealousy was more important than her life. "FBI guy kissed you when the ambulance pulled up, and demanded you hold on just a little while longer. I figured it was to piss Luke off, and boy did it."

"He meant it," she said quietly, remembering that Michel's exact words had been 'you're almost there... just hold on a little bit longer.' She could also remember the feeling of his fingers squeezing her hand in the ambulance, and realized he hadn't let go of her the entire time. "Luke has no reason to be angry."

"You sure? It didn't look like 'no reason' to me."

Kerry glared at him. "I mean he has no reason to be angry with me. I had been kidnapped and was unconscious. I don't deserve my boyfriend to giving me the cold shoulder when I probably wouldn't be alive right now if..." She broke off. "I'm sorry, this conversation is too heavy for you. What's the latest gossip?"

"You!" Kevin exclaimed, looking surprised she even had to ask.

She already knew that when she got out of the hospital, she'd be adding fuel to the spreading fire regarding Luke and herself, and how she outsmarted him and almost died for it. When she got out, she wasn't sure there could be a Luke and Kerry anymore, for far more deeper reasons.

How could his affections mean anything to her after this?

It was another two days before she woke up to find Michel sitting beside her. They merely looked at each other for a long time, surveying the field. Her neck felt itchy in a way that had nothing to do with the physical healing wound and everything to do with the reminder of who he was and what he had done for her. She wanted to throw herself in his arms, and she wanted more than anything for him to stay in that seat forever.

"How's your neck?" he finally asked.

She should have told him that the doctors thought she should be fine, that she might need plastic surgery to cover the scar because his fingers, as slim as they are, had still opened the wound enough to damage her skin. Joked about how her vanity wasn't so great that she wasn't grateful he saved her life. She also could have mentioned that they praised him for not trying to put her own blood back in her body, that the bags had been recycled from the last victim and she probably would have died slowly and painfully with the mixture of blood types. She should have told him she knew he hadn't just made the decision not to, but had stopped other, well-meaning, people from doing it either.

"I still love you," she said instead.

"I know," he responded with certainty. "I'm leaving Brockport, and I won't be back. You won't see me again."

"I understand." She nodded to show that she meant the words, and she did. He had shown too much emotion towards her by continuously re-entering her life, and he knew it. His reaction to her attempted murder was the last straw. He couldn't stay and he couldn't come back.

He wasn't looking at her anymore, but his fingers found hers and he squeezed her hand tightly. "Come with me," he finally asked.

Yes! Her brain screamed as she stared at him in shock. Say yes. Everything she had been thinking and planning over the past two days didn't mean anything. Wasn't this what she always wanted? "No," she responded slowly. "I can't yet."

His expression didn't go closed like she expected it to, and she wondered if he had known she was going to decline his offer. Instead, he smiled at her and it looked so real it made her stressed heart hurt. "It really was an honour to meet you," he told her. "You renewed my perspective on humanity. Goodbye, Kerry." He stood, bending to give her a quick peck on her cheek and left. The moment he was out the door she started to sob.

"Michel!" she called out. "I didn't mean it. Please come back."

Despite his excellent hearing, he didn't listen.

A week later she was released from the hospital. She kept to the plan she had developed in those first days, when she had seen Luke in the visitor's chair and realized she could never be happy with him, when Kevin had told her the story of her rescue, which she knew deserved a different slant than the one he gave it, and when she realized that she was wasting her life in Brockport. She returned the ring that night when Luke was at work, packing her things and moving into Nelle's apartment. Less than a month later, she was packed and moving out of town, her reputation as a serious reporter cemented with the story which spread across country about how she solved the case ahead of the police and almost became the next victim because of it.

She gave herself a new life, but all her accomplishments were empty.

x.x.x.x.x

A/N: I know your first inclination is to hate me and to rage against Kerry, but even if this was a happy ending, with the way things have been going in her life she would have needed some serious soul searching. I think if she had ended up going with him she would have learned to hate him again for all the missed opportunities, and that's something I don't support. I do support Epilogues, however.