As the wind rushing past on the ride to town cleared Maura's thoughts, it focused Nick's.
For the first time he felt like he was close to starting out on even ground in a new place. It was a realization that dawned slowly (because it had never happened before) that here he was in the kind of place he'd longed to remain in. Quiet, green, a little less complicated and a lot less populous than most of the places and incarnations he'd endured, yes, endured, during the past century or so. So many times he'd gravitated toward such places as this, and the incarnations that would permit them. But he'd always lived on the edge of even the most remote communities, on his own in a cottage or other such insular place, accepting the persona of a quiet and harmless eccentric. He'd become so accustomed to watching from the outside, creating a facsimile of membership in each community he settled in while guarding against the risk of being drawn in. Fearful of discovery, worried for his own self-control and knowing that sooner or later his perceived eccentricities would no longer be considered quiet or harmless, he arrived at every place calculating how long it might be before he was forced to leave it. Not so, this time.
It became easier to conceal himself among the proverbial rush of humanity in more modern times and cities, though paradoxically more difficult to remain separate in the enforced intimacy of the places and jobs he tended toward… scholarship and science bred colleagues, and colleagues invited, nay demanded, familiarity. The elimination of plagues and frequently fatal illnesses rendered the modern urban crowd less concealing than in former times. As decades passed, Nick's growing loneliness threatened to overcome his mania for the self-defense of solitude. Especially since the turning of the 20th century it had become so hard to pretend he wasn't surrounded by others who could enjoy the sense of belonging he could only struggle to remember from his past. So many expansive outlooks in modern times, so many more open minds. The pull was, in the end, irresistible.
The thinning of the wall between his guarded self and those around him had reached its extreme in Toronto. For that first time he'd let down enough defenses to connect (as best as he could, given his wretched self-image) to another, and his friendship with Natalie had helped him to begin to accept himself in ways he'd never believed possible even as they tried to leave his true nature behind. Even considering the frustration and pain it caused them both. His partnership and friendship with Schanke was even more in contradiction to his former lives; it was inarguably the closest bond he'd ever achieved with a mortal (and by far the most painful loss he'd suffered in his entire existence). By the time Maura arrived within his circle he was primed for the tipping point; once he allowed himself even the beginnings of that connection there was no going back.
For all of that, when Maura suggested they leave Toronto Nick honestly believed the only difference between now and countless other times was that he wouldn't be running away alone. Yet since their arrival, since meeting Sherry Nadeau and her friends and realizing he wanted to know them and be included in their lives as much as safety allowed, Nick felt the rage to "leave behind" fade and a sense of arrival slowly take its place. Finally he was where, for uncounted centuries, he'd longed to be: in a simple and peaceful place, this time with a chance to belong there. The sensation of beginning a "life" as opposed to an incarnation was unfamiliar and even a little startling. It was also distinctly inviting. Though caution would be necessary, it was much preferable to fear and shame. An "incarnation" depended upon the belief of others in who he claimed to be. This time, if Nick could believe in it first himself, he would be closer to "life" than he had reason to expect was possible. In time he might even come to consider the blood he was forced to drink not a reminder of an evil nature but an unfortunate necessity of survival. The blood he took from Maura he would always consider one of the sweetest gifts he'd known, a source of connection and a symbol of her trust and love for him that he'd never give up willingly for as long as she offered it.
In the midst of these new and pleasant thoughts Nick was aware of the contrast of Maura's uneasiness as she clung behind him with a strength bordering on mania. It seemed to have sprung from nowhere. He'd been relieved to see her relaxing into their new home, making the effort to force herself out during the daylight hours to make the beginnings of acquaintance with the community. He knew that in general her "tendency to be a hermit" didn't come from anything darker than a little awkwardness with strangers, something countless mortals were prey to. He remembered her hesitation that first time they'd gone to a Metro function, how she'd hung on a little tighter to his hand and held back for a second at the door. This was probably something similar, he figured, and nothing a little reassurance wouldn't fix. As countless times before Nick found himself amused by the irony that of the two of them he was the one who had to persuade Maura to mix with mortal company.
When Nick had rolled the bike up on its stand outside Ernie's Maura immediately unclenched from him and slid off the seat, hooked her helmet on the back, and turned toward the bar figuring Nick would follow. She was determined to be a grown-up this time, not the sniveling wimp she was when Nick had had to drag her to the awards dinner so long ago. She found herself drawn up short as Nick stuck his hand under her jacket and hooked his fingers in her back belt loop, pulling her back to him.
"What?" she managed to turn to face him as he pulled off his own helmet and swung his leg over to lean back against the seat, one hand firmly still locked onto the back of her jeans.
"I want you to know something," he was smiling earnestly as he looked down at her, "before we go in there and make our place with other people. Make it, not 'find' it, or fake it. If you still have any doubts at all that this was the right thing to do, the right next step to make, I want to tell you that this is the first time that 'moving on' feels like going to instead of running from. For hundreds of years, Sweet," and when Maura looked nervously around to see if anyone was nearby to hear he turned her face back to his, "whenever I moved on I was always leaving behind, bad decisions, bad acts, bad memories. I want you to know that I know this time it's different."
"But we did leave behind some really bad things," Maura began. Nick was shaking his head.
"But we didn't cause them. More importantly, I didn't cause them. I didn't resurrect Divia, or cause Tracy to be shot. I didn't kill Natalie, when you and I both know that not so long ago I could never have stopped myself once I'd gone that far." Finally he wasn't blaming himself for every tragedy he encountered. He thought, he hoped, it would please her.
And Maura hoped the flash of anger she felt inside didn't show on her face. Natalie, again Natalie! There wouldn't have been anything to stop if you hadn't gone that far in the first place. And if Natalie's life hadn't been in danger, what then? Happily ever after as a mortal with the woman who'd "saved" him from himself and from life with someone who accepted him just as he was? Maura tried to ignore the questions that rang in her head, but they wouldn't leave her alone. She knew nothing good could come from bringing them up, especially now. They weren't reasonable questions anyway, just a chaos of anger and frustration with question marks tacked on. God she was so tired of being reasonable. But he'd left with her, hadn't he? Not Natalie, he wanted to be with her, he'd been working hard to persuade her to feel at home in their new life. He loved her, she knew it even when his eyes weren't on fire and his mouth wasn't drawing her life into him... but then why had he…
Stop. Maura retreated from her inner arguments and focused on the eyes smiling gently into hers. She saw no divided longing there; in fact there was a certainty she was quite sure she'd never seen before.
"It really is different for you this time, isn't it? Things have changed that much for you." Please, please, if we both believe it enough it might be true.
"Things have changed that much in me. Maybe there wasn't a reason before now, maybe I just wasn't ready."
This was getting too serious, too deep-and-meaningful for comfort. "Well I'm glad I caught you at the right time," she told him flippantly.
"Me too." Suddenly Nick remembered the night of his Aristotle-inspired 'proposal', and what Maura said after she put the wedding ring on his finger. "I now pronounce you stuck with me, too." Gripping Maura around the waist, Nick pulled her off her feet into a kiss so deep and meaningful it shoved every sharp-edged reproach from her mind. She reached around his neck to hold on, forgetting where they were, forgetting everything but his arms around her and the velvety heat of his mouth. Funny how, when doubts got the better of her, the less logical elements of their connection could take her over. She never heard the footsteps passing them by on the way to the door of the bar.
"God-damn, the last time I saw married people carrying on like that…" a male voice commented (from a very great distance, it seemed to Maura).
A female voice advised, "I don't think they can hear you."
The first voice finished, "Well they weren't married to each other I can tell you that!" This was followed by the sound of the door opening and closing, allowing the sounds of music and voices to spill out and then be shut off.
Maura felt Nick smile. Those were her favorite kisses of all. As much as she loved seeing that heart-melting smile, she loved feeling it against her skin even more. When finally he raised his head from hers she confided as if keeping a secret, "That's okay, neither are we."
"I won't tell if you won't," he promised conspiratorially. "Okay, time for you to meet the natives."
As she took his arm and they walked to the entrance Nick cracked, "If I'm lucky maybe you'll wind up drunk and willing."
Nick didn't know it yet but he'd be proven only partly right, and anything but lucky.