Maura stumbled again, and Nick tightened his arm around her waist to steady her. Again. He could hold her with her feet off the floor if need be, but didn't want to attract attention.

"So do you approve of my choice?" They and the others on the dance floor were slowly circulating to Phil Collins' version of "Groovy Kind of Love".

Maura hung onto him a little more closely, aware she was fast dissolving in a sodden haze. "Mmm, a lil' hokey, but works f'r me," and then something in the lyric "my whole world could shatter" forced a gulping sigh from her, and she pressed her face even more deeply into his neck and shoulder.

"What is it, sweet? I know something's wrong, can't you tell me?" Aside from everything, of course. Since that first night of Vachon's destruction, after the blind rage and self-inflicted bite that luckily hadn't needed stitches, Maura had held her grief pretty closely. She'd busied herself with their arrangements and he'd probably let her take over more than she should have. Since their arrival Nick had managed to divide himself between letting her have a little space and keeping a close eye on what she might not tell him she needed, but whatever was churning inside her tonight (in addition to an ocean of eighty-proof) seemed to have come on rather suddenly. At first he thought it was just unease at meeting a new group of people, but the carelessness fed by her unexpected appetite for alcohol was unfamiliar… and more than a little worrisome.

Right now she really figured she should tell him, but it wasn't that simple, was it, the phone call combined with the news about the elixir combined with so much mixed up stuff, it all wound together in a roiling knot that was too much to untangle. Especially when she was barely able to speak, let alone coherently.

"Dunno." At least it only took two syllables, Maura thought in a cloudy sort of way, even if he could tell it was a sorry lie. She gathered her wits as best she could and raised her head to ask, "You gonna drive a bulldozer?" She was relieved to see Nick's perplexed smile that always seemed to greet her when she wasn't making sense and he wasn't inclined to press her further. Not that there'd be much point at present.

Nick figured she was one shot short of passing out cold. "I could do worse. That work happens at night too, especially road work. Why not? Now that I know you have a taste for working class men…" his smile warmed. He kissed her and immediately regretted it, unable to prevent a grimace at the taste of bourbon. Taste? Hell, she was marinated in it.

"Scuse me," she slurred and pulled out of his arms. She was too far gone to take it in stride, or even remember his loathing of bourbon.

Nick reached to steady her. "Maura, come on, you're way over your limit. Let's sit down, okay?"

Maura managed to shake off his hand without falling on her ass. "Oh, you're gonna say be reasn'ble, right!" She stood swaying in the middle of the dance floor, the song ended and everyone watched as she spat in a surprisingly clear voice, "I'm sick n'tired of being fucking reasonable!" Her voice rose on the last word in an explosion of pure rage. As Nick stood in dumbfounded silence Maura shoved past the others and stumbled out the rear exit. Nick followed but was intercepted by Sherry.

"May not be a good idea right this second," she advised.

Nick shook his head, "I don't know where this came from, but I can't just leave her…" he looked toward the back door.

Sherry stood her ground with a grim smile. "Hey, no woman wants to puke in front of an audience, even if it's her husband. I'll give her a couple minutes to cool down and check and see she's okay." Against his better judgment Nick agreed and went back uneasily to join their companions, who'd returned to their tables looking a little stunned. Even so, there were no wise remarks.

"Jack and new-town stress can be a real nasty mix," Angie tried to reassure him. "Some things come out when you least expect them."

"I suppose you're right." He knew Sherry shared his and Maura's recent trials and losses with her best friend. Still he couldn't stop staring toward the back door. There was more going on here than unresolved grief.

Outside, Maura was fulfilling Sherry's prediction. She'd made it as far as the trash cans and fallen to her knees, seeing double and too nauseous even to barf though she could feel the hitching begin in her gut.

"What's that saying… ah yes, there goes the neighborhood."

The familiar voice, that perfect balance of cognac and acid, drifted through the roaring in her ears. Through the crack of one clenched eye she saw two black boots inches away from her face, the hems of fine black wool trousers skimming them just so. Maura forced herself to turn her head enough to look up, and the two or three pale and overlapping blurs were just as unmistakable as the voice and couture.

"Oh, fuck me," she moaned, just before ejecting a rush of Jack Daniels, nachos, and onion rings all over hand-sewn Italian leather.

"Thank you, no," the smooth voice curdled in distaste. Maura shut her eyes again and crawled back a few inches, resting her head on the ground. Moments later she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Vash?" she slurred vaguely.

"It's Sherry. I think you're way past your party limit, hon. Don't worry, I don't want to know why you picked a fight with your man, god knows men give us plenty of reasons at the drop of a hat. You've both been through a lot lately. Here," she helped Maura out of her crouch into a half-kneeling position and handed her a wet towel. Maura had trouble focusing on it, so Sherry tipped her head to the side and wiped her mouth and face. "There you go. Here, drink some of this," she pressed a glass to Maura's lips.

"Nooooo," the latter protested. God if she had one more drink she'd die right here.

"Just water, get rid of that nasty taste."

She managed a few sips, then rolled onto her back. "Nick…" She could almost focus on Sherry's face where she leaned over her.

"He's inside. He's worried about you. And pretty confused, I think. Okay if I send him out?"

Maura nodded. Big mistake, as the whole world went whirly. Sherry saw the threat of a spasm and rolled her onto her side.

"Better stay off your back for a bit. I'll send Nick out." She set the glass next to Maura's head and went back in the bar. Nick met her halfway to the table.

"Oh my, but your wife is well past shitfaced," Sherry told him.

"I figured that much out myself. Did she tell you anything?"

"You mean like why she screamed at you? I didn't ask. I don't think she could complete the sentences anyway. Go on out, she's calmed down now." She stifled a laugh. "You could say she's fully sedated. I left her lying on the ground with a glass of water, she's waiting for you."

"Well it's not as if she'd get very far if she didn't. Thanks, Sherry." He glanced back at the rest of their companions, and a collection of strangers who were talking quietly.

"Don't worry about them. The ones who met you won't make judgments, and the ones who haven't can go fuck themselves."

"Thanks." He was grateful to have stumbled onto a group of such understanding souls. Before he could get out the door Sherry called after him,

"Hey, who's Vash? When I first got out there she called me that."

Nick stopped, glanced toward the exit and then turned back to Sherry. "Remember I told you about that friend of hers who was murdered? That was him, Javier Vachon." He sighed to himself, then explained, "He was very good at helping her get untangled when things got the best of her. Better than me, I'm afraid."

Sherry stepped up and put a hand on his arm. "Hey, that's what best friends are for, to take up the slack. My guess is you'll catch on fast. Better get out there before she wanders away."

He had to laugh. "That would be something to see about now."

The universe had just begun to slow its mad spin behind her closed eyes when Maura felt him next to her. This time she knew who it was. "Nick…" she whimpered.

"Right here, sweet. Can you sit up?" He took her hand and slipped his other under her shoulder.

"Sloowww," she warned, and let him lift her carefully upright. She squinted enough to see one of him. The alcohol was beginning to burn off (Nick's hypothesis regarding her biology being correct) but the large and speedy doses she'd consumed would take longer than usual to dissipate. "Screamed at you," she lamented.

"It's okay. Now everybody knows who wears the pants at our house. Now I have to drive a bulldozer to regain my manhood." The humor was lost on her. He leaned closer and kissed her hair. "Never mind. We can sort it out later, okay? I really do want to know what happened here."

She nodded very carefully. "'kay. Not now, I can't…" her eyes shot open and Nick heard her gulp. She would have jerked away but he knelt behind her, holding her head as she lost what was left of the evening's overindulgence. Then he held the glass so she could take a little water and instructed like a solitious dentist, "Spit." She did, and leaned her head against him. "Home, take me home."

That was a problem. "You can't ride in your condition. Come on back in and maybe we can get you a ride."

"No!" she exclaimed. She absolutely did not want to show her drunk-ass self to the people upon whom she was sure she'd made an indelible first impression. "No," she pleaded again, more quietly. Nick handed her the glass.

"All right. will you be okay here for a minute?" She nodded, again very carefully. "I'll be right back." When he rose he looked down at her, sitting flat-assed in the dirt, miserable and looking as confused by the whole thing as he was. No more giving her space, he decided, once she was recovered he planned to find out exactly what triggered this burst of self-destructive emotion. As he turned to go back in the bar Maura called out,

"Wait.. make sure he's gone."

He turned back, concerned. "Was someone out here with you?" He knelt by Maura again. "Who?"

"L'Croix." She could hardly believe she was saying it.

Nick looked quickly around, focused his senses. No, not even an echo. Forgetting for the moment that LaCroix could mask himself when he chose, Nick assured her, "I think it was your imagination, you've had a lot to drink."

She was not convinced. "No. He was here. I puked on his shoes." This drew a laugh from Nick, and he gave her a hug and kissed her forehead.

"I take it back. It was a dream come true. Sit tight."

But she knew she was right. LaCroix had been there.

"Where's Sherry?" Nick asked Doug. Aside from him and Angie, just about everyone else had left. "Maura can't double on the bike with me, I was hoping to get her a lift out to our place."

"Glad you patched things up," Doug grinned. "Don't be thinking we're all gonna be repeating this all over the county."

"I appreciate that. She's not really like that usually."

"Oh it'll get talked around, for sure," Angie laughed, "but not by us. Just by those people you say that you don't know yet. But don't worry, between the bunch of us you'll break even. Sherry's in the kitchen with her brother. He was barbacking tonight. She'll be out in a minute, and I know she'll be happy to be designated driver."

"Good to see you, Nick, and believe it or not it was good to meet Maura too. How 'bout next time we get together over coffee. And give me a call if you're serious about doing some work for me, I can never get reliable guys who want to do the night jobs. Miller kept those machines in prime condition, he just didn't want to drag them along with him when he retired."

In the kitchen Sherry wasn't sure she heard Eric right. "What do you mean, do they have someone else with them? I told you, it was just Nick and Maura came tonight. Like you said, him you're sure of, and you think she's like you." However that is, she thought to herself. They'd never quite figured it out, except enough to believe in things they'd only watched in movies when they were kids.

Eric was shaking his head. "I don't like it. If it was just them tonight… there's no other way to explain it."

"Explain what?"

"Sherry," Nick's voice drifted in from the bar. "Do you think when you're through you can give Maura a lift home?"

"No problem," she called back, "it'll just take a minute for me to walk home and get the car." She turned back to Eric. "Explain what?" she repeated.

"There's two of them."

She shook her head, not understanding. "Two of them?"

"Tonight just after Nick's wife took a nosedive out the back door, I looked out the window to see if she was okay. There was someone there, tall, fancy black clothes, pale as death and with a good reason to be."

"You mean he's like Nick?"

"Yeah. Except he doesn't want to mix in. Look, you tell Nick to wait here with you and his wife, and I'll get the car and come back to lock up with Mike. Follow Nick to their place and come straight back home."

"Okay. You really worried about this?"

Eric shrugged. "I dunno… if he wanted to make trouble he'd have done it already. My guess is he knows our new neighbors and is more interested in them than the locals."

Truer words were never spoken.