He sat beside the dying fire, pouring himself another glass of vodka. Moira had taken the children home a few hours ago, but he'd elected to stay. They were celebrating the end of a successful season, having packed the circus up and preparing to go their separate ways for the winter. Many of the families went to their respective winter abodes, while some still stayed together in the caravan. Azazel and Moira had not yet come to an agreement on where they'd go. He knew she wanted them to go somewhere they could be alone for a while. He loved being around everyone in the caravan, loved being with his friends from years back. Moira, he knew, preferred them being together just the five of them more often. They'd gone back and forth many times on what they'd do, and were at an impasse.

Things had been hard between them recently as well. There was a part of him that worried they were growing apart. He loved her still there was no question about that. But something was different, they weren't the same as they were a few years ago.

"Staying out late Aleksandr?" he looked up as one of the aerialists took a seat beside him.

"Katya," he greeted. "Just a bit."

"I'm surprised," she took his bottle and took a small swig. "You're such a family man now."

Katya was one he had a past with. She'd been the one he'd turned to after Margali had married. She was younger than him, though not by much. Certainly not as much as his wife. He'd always enjoyed her company, though felt guilty that he couldn't have been what she wanted him to be.

"I am," he grinned. "Still, sometimes is nice to take a break."

"I'm sure," she agreed. "It must be hard chasing after that brood. Makes me happy I chose not to have any."

"Hard, yes," he agreed. "But worth it. Couldn't imagine my life without them."

Katya nodded, regarding him for a moment. She turned her eye from him. "Your wife is quite nice. More interesting than I expected."

Azazel raised a brow at her, and she continued. "She's plain Azazel. A human, and American. So…" the woman shook her head. "Not what I would have expected you with."

He shrugged at her statement. "She's more than you think. You know what they say about judging a book by cover."

"Yes," she paused, taking his bottle for another swig. "I suppose it would be expected much would change for you when you left."

"So much is different out there, Katya," he told her. "Did I expect I would be with person like Moira? No, not in million years. But we have to be open to new things. Otherwise, what is point of living?"

"Very true," she smiled at him. "Not that you have to lecture me. I've always been willing to try new things."

He laughed at that, and the memories it brought up. "Oh lord do I know," he sighed happily, his eye trailing to his hands. He looked from himself to her. "How did I get to be such an old man, and you not age a day?"

"Makeup and yoga, dear," she told him with a smile. "And who says you're old?"

Azazel shrugged. "Can't help but feel it sometimes. Turned 50 this year. Can't even believe it."

"You can't feel that old if you're chasing those kids down all the time," she said. "And that wife of yours. Did you date from the cradle on purpose?"

He gave her a glare, irritated to hear his own insecurities spoken back to him. "Age has nothing to do with our relationship."

"Of course not," she lifted her hands in defense. "I didn't mean anything by it, you know."

"I know," he took a sip of his drink.

"You know, Aleksandr," Katya started. "I've known you a long time. Long enough to see when something is bothering you."

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, looking away from her. He wasn't sure he could or should speak to her about his troubles, but then maybe it would help to voice them.

"What is it?" she pried.

"Sometimes," he began, trying to find his words. "I worry for my marriage sometimes. I worry for my relationship with my wife. Things lately… they have not been perfect."

"Nothing is perfect, you know," she told him.

"Da, but," a small smile came over his lips. "It was. In the beginning, it was the closest to perfect I've ever seen. But in the last year, so much has happened. We had to leave our home and…" he frowned as his emotions took over. "We lost a child."

Katya frowned as well. "I am so sorry, Aleksandr. I can't imagine how hard that is." Her hand gently laid on his shoulder.

"Is so hard, harder than anything. Is something you're not sure you'll ever get through," he worried his lip as he went on. "I don't know that our relationship has recovered from it. We haven't been… together in so long. Once on my birthday, but that's it. I worry our relationship will never recover from it."

Katya was silent, as Azazel took a long swig. Her eyes made him nervous, he hated being pitied by those around him. Her hand on his shoulder moved across his back to grasp his other shoulder, her cheek leaning against him. "Aleksandr, Aleksandr."

They sat for a few moments, and he continued to drink. The alcohol was beginning to hit him hard. He rarely drank to get drunk anymore and was completely unused to the feeling. He felt a small kiss on his shoulder from the woman beside him.

"I wonder sometimes," she started. "What if you'd stayed?"

He furrowed his brow as her words slowly sunk in. "What if I'd stayed?"

"Yes," she let her hand trail up his side. "I'm sorry about your troubles, Aleksandr. You don't deserve them."

He nodded, looking down at the ground. She continued. "Your wife should be more supportive of you."

Azazel faced her with a questioning look. Part of him wanted to defend Moira. What did Katya know of his wife? Part, however, wondered where she was going with this. "What you mean?"

"I mean men have needs," her hand traced from his side to his chest, making small circles. He was feeling sluggish from his drink, and he half wanted to move, but before he could, she straddled his waist. Her face was so close to his. He tried to move backward.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes widening.

"Shhh," she leaned in and captured his lips. First he was shocked, but he allowed himself to kiss her back, his hands moving up her back. The kiss was passionate, sexy, and something he hadn't felt in too long. Katya took charge, her hands moving under his shirt, and they split just to allow him to remove it. She pushed him backward onto the ground. He could feel himself responding, his pants growing tighter, and in the back corner of his mind he was screaming at himself.

Katya's hand tangled in his hair, pulling painfully, as the other moved down his body. She felt him brush his length on the outside of his pants, before her hand went to work on his belt. All at once, his eyes snapped open and he realized what was happening. He could see his wife's face, he could imagine her pain at this situation, and he roughly pushed Katya off him.

The woman fell to the side with an oof. "Ow, shit, Aleksandr. What the hell?"

He shook his head, eyes wide. "This is wrong."

She moved close again, her fingers crawling toward his erection. "I don't think the whole of you agrees."

He grabbed her hand off him, and shoved her lightly again. "I am married," he glared at her.

Katya shrugged. "And? Not happily, it would seem."

"Is none of your business," his face grew hot as he stared her down. "I love my wife."

"That's why you're out here, while she's in your trailer," she lifted a brow.

"Do not talk about her," he growled at the woman.

Katya stood up, straightening her clothing. "Tell yourself what you need to sleep at night, Aleksandr. You kissed me back."

He watched as she walked off in the direction of her own trailer. His hands came up to his face. As he closed his eyes, all he could see was Moira's face. The woman he'd pledged his life to, the woman he loved more than life itself. He knew he loved her. He couldn't imagine the pain she'd feel, knowing what he'd done tonight. After the year they'd had, it killed him he would think to bring anymore hurt upon her. His knees came up and his tail wrapped around his ankles.

His wife, he knew, was in their mobile home. She'd tucked in their children, and now likely lay awake in their bed, waiting for her husband to come home. And here was her husband. He made himself sick.

After a while sitting like this, he decided to make his way back to the trailer. He tripped a bit over the threshold, cursing and closing the door quietly. He flicked off his shoes and checked in on the children, to make sure he hadn't woke them. Thankfully, they still slept. He stripped off his pants, and opened the partition into his room. Moira, as he expected, sat up in bed reading. She looked up to him as he entered. "Where have you been?"

"Out," he told her curtly. He was afraid if he started to speak he'd tell her everything.

She lifted a brow, but put her book aside as he took a seat in the bed. "Did you have fun at least?"

"Not really," he responded, afraid to look at her. He slipped under the covers, and Moira moved to his side, putting her arm around him. In kind, he wrapped one arm around her, but still avoided her gaze.

"I was thinking," she began. "It may not be terrible for us to stay with the caravan through winter. As long as we can find a warm enough place. I'm not sure how well this trailer will do in extreme cold."

"Nyet," he replied. "We go somewhere else."

Moira lifted herself on one arm, looking down at him. "Are you sure? I thought you liked the idea of staying."

He shook his head, then finally looked to her. His guilt weighed heavily, even more so as he looked into her eyes. "We go back to USSR. Or we can travel a bit. Spend some time there, some time with Margali, maybe some time at Xavier's place." He shrugged and looked away again. "Spend time only five of us. Is important."

Moira smiled and moved in to kiss him. Azazel seized up a bit, as if she could somehow taste the other woman on him. His wife didn't notice, simply kissing and pulling away. "Love, I don't mind if you drink, but get some better vodka."

He smiled nervously, and Moira leaned to turn out the light, then cuddled into him. They lay in embrace, and Azazel's guilt weighed heavily. What would he do if he lost this?

After a few moments of silence, Azazel turned his head to his wife. "I love you, Moira."

"Mmm," Moira's eyes were closed, and she shifted sleepily. "Love you too, Alek."

He closed his eyes, and attempted to get some sleep.

~&Q~

Reviews are always welcome!