Warm
by Fran Hutchinson


"This might be the answer to your body-heat issue," Natalie told Nick
a few days later when he'd visited her lab.  In her hand was a small
vial of clear fluid.

"Vodka?  Not my style."

"Ha, ha.  It's a capsicum distillate, a vegetable extract.  It would
take too long to explain how I think it'll work.  You'll just have to
trust me."

He smiled, "I always trust you," as he took the vial from her and
regarded it quizzically.  "Capsicum.  Like capsaicin?  The stuff that
makes peppers hot."

"Well it's related.  Anyway, a shot of this at regular intervals
should keep your temperature constant.  I'm not exactly sure what the
'dosage' should be, though, so start light, okay?"

He handed the vial back to her.  "Well it sounds promising, but what
do I do with it?"

"Put a drop or two in your bottle when you drink, it should work
with your own metabolism's reaction to the blood and then sustain it."

Nick looked uncertain.  "I'm not sure how my system would react to
hemoglobin chili."  Natalie rolled her eyes.

"Colorless and flavorless, I promise.  The worst that could happen
is nothing at all.  I'll brew up a bunch more once we know how it's
gonna work.  But this will be fine to get started."

Nick pocketed the tiny bottle with a shrug, trying to control his
hopes for success.  "Thanks Nat.  You know, it's not just for Maura's
sake.  For once I'd like to shake hands with someone and not have
them ask me if I'm ill."

She steered him to the lab door.  "Cold hands, warm heart.  Let me
know how it works.  Now get lost, I have work to do."

Maura was getting ready for work when he got home.  

"'sup?  Been to see Nat?"  Maura was very glad indeed that Nick and
Natalie had salvaged the friendship that her arrival had disrupted. 
She liked Natalie, and knew she really only wanted the best for Nick. .

"Yeah, same old same old," Nick told her as he shed his jacket.  He
was very mindful of the bottle in the pocket, but decided not to tell
Maura about it in case it didn't work.  Or in case it did.  As she
was fond of reminding him, he loved surprises as long as he wasn't
the recipient.  

"You're looking very dark tonight," he observed.  Maura descended
the stairs carrying her shoes, having chosen mostly black to wear. 
Black jeans, black t shirt with a deep v-neck and push-up sleeves. 
Her only concession to color was an assortment of malachite and
emerald jewelry.  The malachite was hers, the emeralds were gifts
from Nick, whose penchant for occasional excess she was struggling to
accept as normal.  "I've built up quite a little nest egg in 800
years, let me enjoy it okay?" he'd told her when she'd tried to
refuse the mediaeval white-gold and emerald ring she now wore
regularly.  That particular ring he'd had for a few centuries, in any
case.

Maura shrugged.  "Like it or not, the more I Goth it up the more
seriously they take me.  Go figure.  I'd hoped my powerful air of
absolute authority would do it."

"Whatever it takes."  Nick flopped on the sofa, filled wine glass in
hand.  "Vachon picking you up?"

"Yeah.  He loves showing off that retro Mustang of his."

"Well I'll collect you after work.  I've got too much paperwork to
do with Schanke tonight, so by then I'll be ready for something a
little looser."

A horn honked outside.

"I hate when he does that, I feel like such a floozy," Maura
complained, eliciting a bark of laughter from Nick.

"If the flooz fits..."

She approached as if to slap him but patted the top of his head
instead.  "Have a nice dull evening supercop," Maura instructed as
she grabbed her own leather jacket and bag.  Things had been a little
wild at work for him lately, lots of cases though most quickly
settled.  Criminals getting busy and stupid was better than getting
busy and smarter, he'd told her.  Gotta find an upside somewhere.  A
second honk, rife with impatience, drifted up from the street and
grimacing with distaste Maura bounded out the door, leaving Nick to
consider his now half-empty wine glass.  He rose and went to where
his jacket hung by the door, fished the vial out of the pocket. 
"Here goes nothing," he said to nobody and carefully tipped a tiny
drop, then another, into his glass before topping it off from the
bottle on the coffee table.  "Here's mud in yer eye," he mugged to
the mirror, and tried not to chug.

Maura was surprised when Nick abruptly took the cash from her and
handed it off to Janette, who stood nearby discussing the liquor
order with Vachon.  It was just after last call, not too busy for a
Wednesday night, but the band hadn't finished up yet. 

"Dance, lady?" he asked her in his best Noir voice.

"Uh, sure," she cast a look at Janette who smiled and nodded. 
Whatever, her expression said.  The song was one of the dark, sultry
ones that usually ended the evening.  "Gotta pair 'em off for the
night," Derek was fond of saying.  Nick had his arm around her waist
as they got to the dance floor, then tightened it to pull her against
him.  

"Guess you are ready for something looser, aren't you?"  Something
was different about him.  When he took one of her hands in his and
held it to his face, his eyes never leaving hers, she stopped dead.

"Notice anything different?" he asked innocently, leading strongly
to keep her moving with him.  Her brow was knit in consternation.

"Bring a thermos to the office, did you?  Or have you been
snacking?"  The possibility clearly disturbed her.  He whirled them
rapidly and pressed his (warm... warm?) mouth to her ear.  "Natalie's
magic potion.  A little dab'll do ya."

She was getting dizzy and dragged on Nick to slow them down.  "What
are you raving about??"  He still had his (so warm) face pressed into
her cheek.

"I told you she was working on something to boost my temperature,
right?  Well tonight was the maiden voyage, so to speak."  He told
her what Natalie had told him.  She pulled away a little, staring.

"So you're telling me a shot of hot sauce is gonna keep you from
going all corpse-like between feedings?"

He put on a hurt expression.  "I thought 'corpse-like' was part of
my charm..."  She made a face.  "Oh all right, yeah we're hoping to
keep me regulated.  Just think, no more being buried in advice and
herbal remedies, no more offers of hand-knit sweaters,"

"No more frostbite at 3am," Maura added, prompting Nick to pull a
face of his own.  But just for a second, because he hugged her tight
and buried his face in her neck with a grumbling sound.  "So,
whaddaya think?"

"Nice.  How long does it last?"

"I have no idea.  Looks like you're gonna be a guinea pig tonight."

The song ended, and the band was down for the night.  "Oh, swell,"
Maura muttered as they returned to the bar.  "I always wanted to be
the subject of an uncontrolled experiment."

"Object," Nick corrected.

"I'm outta here, okay?" Maura asked Vachon and Janette.  "You guys
have it all under control, right?"

Janette offered her driest smile.  "We'll struggle through, cherie. 
You and Nicolas go home and settle in for the day."  She said this
with the air of an indulgent mother allowing the teenagers to neck in
the front room.

Maura reached for Nick's hand on the drive home.  Unbelievably he
was still warm, but it felt normal, constant, not the up-and-down
feverishness that was present after a rich feed.  Just... regular. 
He gave her fingers a squeeze, keeping his eyes on the road but
smiling a little.

"But how do you feel?" she wanted to know.

He looked thoughtful for a moment or two as he parked out back of
the loft.  "I feel just the same as always.  No effects at
all."												
"Well that's a good thing, huh?  I mean compared to all the other
shit that Natalie has given you that made you sick or crazy or just
plain weird."

She didn't see Nick looking askance at her.  "Well anytime it gets
to be too much for you..."

"Oh stop it, will you?"  She took his jacket with her own and hung
them up, returning to stand close to him in the kitchen.  "Mmm, yeah,
you do feel kind of normal, don't you?  I mean when you drink up,
Shriners, it's furnace time and then it drops like a rock.  This is
making you, I guess, kind of level."

He poured a glass and tipped a drop into it.  "I'll just leave the
vial here, to remind me.  Nat says if it works out all right she can
make a big batch."  He turned to face Maura, raising his glass,
"Here's to a functioning thermostat," but before he could drink she
stood on tiptoe to press her cheek against his.  

"Mmm, just right."

"Thanks, Goldilocks."

She laughed wearily as she trudged up the stairs and got changed for
bed.  She was beat tonight.  Slow nights always seemed to take more
out of her.  For some reason there could be more trouble when there
were less people, go figure.  She was sound asleep when Nick came up
hours later, not having drunk anything for some time.  A bedtime feed
was more habit than necessity, a concession to Maura so he didn't
chill her out too soon.  He slid in beside her and reached  his arm
around her waist, waiting for a response.  He knew if he were too
cold she'd shrink away without waking.  Now, though, she murmured,
"mmm, bats," and snuggled closer.  Nick smiled to himself.  He'd been
telling the truth when he told Natalie he wasn't just doing this for
Maura.  It wasn't complicated or grand, just one less thing he had to
explain to the world that now had one more small thing in common with
him.  He didn't feel more mortal, just less alien.  Careful to hold
Maura in a fashion she could escape (trapped and warm was still
trapped, after all), he fell into his usual slumber.  For the first
time in years he dreamt of sunshine, and this time it didn't hurt.

Maura woke a few hours after sunrise, in her usual curled-up posture
facing away from Nick.  No matter where she started out when they
went to bed she always ended up the same way.  But she was aware of
an unfamiliar (warm) pressure against her back, and realized Nick was
lying close-by against her.  Rather, she hadn't moved away in the
night.  And warm.  He was warm.  It took a minute to remember, but
she realized Natalie's "magic potion" must still be working.  She
turned to have a look at Nick, in all other ways his customary self
in sleep, loose-limbed in appearance but utterly inert and unmovable.
She touched the arm that lay exposed on his stomach.  Warm.  She had
to admit it was a little creepy.  He looked dead as could be, gone
pale as snow from the many hours since his last feeding.  Under her
fingers there was none of the subtle thrum of restoring energy
evident in a sleeping mortal.  But he was warm, no more or less than
he had been last night.  She touched his face and hair, knowing he
wouldn't stir.  The same curiously lifeless warmth, like a hot water
bottle or a  rock left in the sun.  Frowning a little, she withdrew. 
Nick was right, of course, this would leave him with one less set of
uncomfortable questions and intrusions to deal with.  And it removed
her source of discomfort as they slept.  At one time they'd
considered his sleeping permanently in the living room, but both
disliked the separation.  So he'd stayed put, dealing with the
discomfort as a necessity of being close.  This "magic potion" made
that easier.  But what was she close to?  A corpse with central
heating.  The only time she ever admitted to herself he was not alive
was at times like this, when he was "asleep" in a way that mortals
never slept.  He was, now, well and truly dead.  But warm.  And it
seemed that what was appealing, even inviting, when Nick was awake
was undeniably unsettling when he was not.

Stop it, she told herself, how fucking selfish can you be.  You know
he didn't do this just for you.  Still Maura figured it might not
have occurred to him to ask Natalie for assistance if she weren't
there to make things more noticeable.  Careful what you wish for. 
Still tired, she settled down again by his side, not quite touching. 
She knew if she were too far away he'd surely notice when he woke up.
Suddenly she wished there were some way that mortals could harmonize
better with vampire reality, instead of always vice versa.  She loved
him, in any case, so she knew she'd adapt.  Wrapping hesitant fingers
around his arm she went back to sleep, and when he woke her with a
kiss and an affectionate smile she'd completely forgotten her unease.

Fall was turning to winter and by the end of November Toronto was
gearing up for the holidays.  Maura had never connected much with
Christmas.  Not really because of the religious aspect, which had
never been overwhelming, but because of the way she lived her life so
far there had been little room for festivity.  Holiday gatherings
were hunting grounds for her companions, nemeses and various
protectors.  

For Nick, Christmas and New Year's celebrations had always been
another occasion for retreat, lame explanations and increased efforts
by his mortal friends and colleagues to include him in their
socializing.  Everyone knew he belonged to no particular religion,
but something in the holiday season compelled everyone to redouble
their efforts to "rescue" Nick from his self-imposed solitude.  And
he did feel a little sad, or was it weariness, on the odd Christmas
or New Year's eve spent alone or sipping wine-laced blood at midnight
with Janette at Raven.  When you've seen more than 800 years turn,
celebration becomes redundant and a bit empty.

After seven months together, Nick and Maura had settled into a
mostly calm existence broken only by occasional work-related drama. 
Since his first appearance LaCroix had inexplicably and blessedly
been absent.  Their lives had blended so seamlessly that all
questions of definition had evaporated.  Friends, siblings, lovers in
a sense that transcended sex.  The latter was something Nick still
shied from while Maura learned not to give its absence too much
weight.  Their physical connection was absolute, in any case.  Those
who saw them together assumed a smouldering passion when they were
alone, though the nights of intense connection they did share would
have beggared their friends' imaginations.  One such night as Nick
and Maura lay tangled, sated and drugged with pleasure, Schanke had
called with some vital information on a case.  "Hope I'm not
interrupting anything, partner," he'd apologized slyly.  "You have no
idea," Nick drawled in response, balancing the phone on one arm as he
cradled the languorous Maura against him with the other.

This year there was no escaping for either of them.  Maura was
actually looking forward to some holiday socializing, having been
deprived of such things all her life.  And she'd come to like Nick's
friends and colleagues, both from work and the one's she'd met
through Janette and the club.  Nick accepted the inevitability of the
usual invitations, softening his resistance as Maura's growing
interest became evident in spite of her efforts to disguise it.  When
she suggested that Nick persuade Captain Stonetree to hold the
department Christmas party at Raven, Nick's response was stunned
surprise.

"Are you out of your mind?  Can you imagine Janette's version of a
Christmas party?  I can just see her decorations... 3-d tableaux of
lions devouring early Christians, re-creations of Roman
crucifixions," he warned her.

"Oh come on, I think she could tinsel it up a little if the price
was right.  And I bet the precinct would get into a little Goth -
holiday motif.  Just check it out with the others first.  They're so
dying of curiosity about the place to begin with, and everybody has
the same old parties, why not something a little, uh, creative."

Nick was shaking his head.  "You're a lunatic.  Okay, I'll see what
they say, but my guess is you'll be burned at the stake."  He only
agreed to mention it because he was certain everyone would share his
reaction.  Wrong.

"Hmm," Schanke had mused.  "A little dark Christmas, huh?  New and
mysterious things to do under the mistletoe... I like it. 
Everybody's sick of the same old egg nog and top-forty band stuff
every year anyway."

And Maura was right about Janette as well, who was delighted at the
prospect of hosting holiday entertainments for Toronto's finest.  She
conceded to the mortal season by augmenting the customary white
strobes with dozens of yards of twinkling red lights, draped silver
angel hair and tinsel on every fixture.  There was even mistletoe
hung in strategic locations, swagged from green silk ribbons.  It
would have been considered subdued for any mortal gathering, but
sufficiently festive to impress even Nick.

"Why Janette, you've gotten the Christmas spirit."  

Janette shuddered.  "I was hoping to avoid that.  But there's no
harm in sparkling up the place a bit for the paying guests."  This
triggered a "so there" look from Maura to Nick.  It always surprised
her when he seemed to miss the mark where Janette was concerned. 
Surely by now he knew she could be counted upon to get into any
"spirit" the private customers required, even enjoying it once things
were underway.  Janette prided herself on her ability to satisfy any
customer.

The precinct turned out in force for the party, and Maura correctly
observed that they were consumed with curiosity about the club. 
Janette was wise to leave its typical character evident, dressing it
up only enough to amuse the party goers with the contrast.

Maura decided to go full-vamp for the party, and went to Janette for
help in designing an appropriate outfit.  The dress was an iridescent
black/emerald silk velvet, shadowing from one color to the other
depending on the flow of the incredibly soft fabric.  It was cut on
the bias, falling from a tight, off the shoulder bodice to a very
full bias-cut skirt.  Slashes in the overdress revealed a scarlet
silk underdress, and the fitted sleeves of the same material peeked
through slits in the green velvet oversleeves that tapered to Maura's
wrists.  The scarlet inner sleeves ended in black lace mitts that
reached the base of her fingernails.  Quick "escape" from them was
enabled by a lengthwise slit along the inner wrist, held closed by
hooks covered by tiny red silk roses.  The waist of the gown was
wound round with a twisted rope of green, scarlet, and black silk
tipped with silver, emerald-set finials ending in silver bells that
tinkled musically whenever Maura moved.  The final touch was a pair
of butter-soft doeskin boots, dyed green to match her dress, with
heels high enough to make Maura feel tall for the first time in her
life.  Janette's shoemaker was instructed that they were to be made
for comfort as well as style, so the platform under the ball of the
foot was raised enough to keep her foot from being canted at too
sharp an angle.  Though they were wide and roomy inside, they gave
the impression of a small foot.  Maura couldn't figure it out;
Janette finally chided, "Cherie, they are perfect, don't ask
questions."  Maura compromised with Janette over her insistence that
Maura wear her hair up.  Janette always wanted her hair tied up out
of the way as if the she found the notion of a covered neck
offensive.  Instead Maura allowed Janette to fasten it back out of
her face with small silver and emerald clips, letting it flow back
loose from the crown of her head.

"Oh cherie," Janette purred as Maura took a turn at the final
fitting, "if Nicolas doesn't pay proper attention to you, I might
just dance with you myself."

At last Maura was able to do justice to the gifts of emerald jewelry
she'd rather reluctantly accepted from Nick for her birthday last
July.  A beautifully bejewelled platinum lavalier lay perfectly
arranged in her decolletage, the one-carat briolette sparkling
between the tops of her breasts.  Matching platinum bracelets, set
with large faceted oval emeralds, would encircle her right and left
wrists.	"What about my watch," she'd protested at first, but Janette
waved her off impatiently.  "Who on earth will care what time it is?"	

This time both she and Nick dressed at home and would arrive
together.  He'd chosen his favorite black leather blazer, blood-red
silk shirt, and a black tab tie to wear over black jeans and a silver-
chased black leather belt.  He looked good enough to eat in one bite,
Maura had decided, but why start something they couldn't finish in
time to go to the party?  She left him downstairs as she went up to
change.  It never took her long to get ready for anything.  She was
good to go in ten minutes, but was having trouble with her hair and
the clasp on the necklace.

"Nick!" she called downstairs, "can you come up and give me a hand
with something?"

When he appeared in the room (he always just "appeared" when they
were at home) he levitated there in the doorway, mouth half-open in a
wondering smile.  "Oh, my."  His smile widened.  "Some day I'll
figure out how you morph from working class to royalty with the
addition of a few yards of velvet," he muttered, shaking his head as
he found his feet again.

"A few yards, huh, and don't forget the silk," she whirled to open
the various slits and vents in the skirt and sleeves to allow the red
to flash through.

"Oh, I'd never."  When he stood toe-to-toe with her she saw he only
had an inch or two on her because of her shoes.  "My how you've
grown," he observed.  "Now how can I help?"

"My hair," she complained, "Janette gave me these beautiful
barrettes but I just can't make it come out right.  It seemed so
simple when she did it, just twisted back on each side and the rest
hanging loose."

Nick examined the barrettes and studied Maura's hair for a moment. 
"Turn around," when she was facing away from him he tipped her head
back, then drew a ribbon of hair back from each temple, twisted it,
and fastened it with a barrette, all with the gentlest of fingers. 
"Okay, look at me."  She did, and he arranged the rest of her hair
over her shoulders and fluffed her bangs.  "There, just right."  She
was delighted when she looked in the mirror.  "Detective, you have
missed your calling!"

"Well nice to know I might have something to fall back on in my 'old
age'," he laughed.  "Are we ready now?"

"One more thing," Maura told him as she picked up the emerald
necklace by its delicate chain.  "I can't manage the clasp and keep
my hair out of the way at the same time."  She turned away again and
Nick draped the lavaliere in front, fastening the clasp after Maura
lifted her hair out of the way.  Then he smoothed the chain and
finished by making her shiver with a kiss to the nape of her neck. 
"There you are.  I don't even know why the other women would bother
to come tonight if they could see you now."  She turned with a smirk.

"Smooth talker."  Reaching  into her closet for the black velvet
cloak Janette had given to her as a gift after the awards dinner, she
slung it carelessly over her arm.  "Let's roll, detective."  But he
was standing still as stone again, just watching her.

"What?"

"Nothing.  I was just thinking this is the first Christmas I've seen
in several hundred years that I might really enjoy."

She shifted a little self-consciously.  "Shit, don't go all deep and
gooey on me, okay?  Sentimental vampires make me nervous.  They're so
unpredictable."

"You don't fool me.  You love 'deep and gooey'," he teased, giving
her a squeeze as she tried to push past him.  He held her still by
her belt of silken rope - "This could come in handy" - pulled  sprig
of mistletoe from his pocket and held it aloft.  "Oh, look.  A pagan
love symbol."  His smile disappeared as he kissed her softly.  "Merry
Christmas, my pagan love."

"I'm not a pagan.  I'm a pan-spiritualist."

"You're a bullshit artist, is what you are."  He released her but
took her hand as they went downstairs.  "C'mon, let's party."
  
Though they weren't particularly late, Nick and Maura were among the
last to arrive.  At first Maura cast quick looks around the room to
see who was where, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the
beautifully lit, perfectly decorated tree that stood near one corner
of the dance floor.  It had to be eight feet tall, with a Della
Robbia Father Christmas on top.  It twinkled with crystal and gold,
silver and jewels, decorations that looked to her as if they'd been
saved from some Renaissance masque.  She ran to Janette and hugged
her, to the latter's awkward surprise.  "Oh Janette, it's wonderful!"
Maura had mentioned rather wistfully once or twice how she'd never
really had the chance to enjoy much festivity about Christmas, that
she'd never really considered it a religious holiday but maybe a
chance to be forget a grim existence for a day or two.  She'd always
loved the bright trees in the homes of others and knowing she'd have
none of her own always made her a bit sad and envious.  

Janette collected herself with her usual dignified-tolerant smile,
and pointed over Maura's shoulder at Nick.  "Merci beaucoup, cherie,
but this 'wonderful' is Nicolas' doing." 

"I helped decorate it," Vachon added with very un-vampire like
pride.  At once Maura turned to find Nick standing some distance away
talking with Schanke and Myra.  She rushed to his side and took his
arm.

"Is it true," she interrupted their conversation, "you really did
all that?  Where did you get all that posh stuff?"

Nick shrugged, "Just some knickknacks I've collected in my
travels..."  But his smile betrayed a bit of uncertainty.  "It was my
first attempt in a long time, really, I've had to get some coaching."

Myra touched Maura's hand.  "When Don told me Nick was driving him
crazy for decorating advice, I called him at work and told him just
make it look like it's the only gift you'll ever give her, and you
can't go wrong."

Maura turned and examined the tree again, wondering if she could
ever tear herself away.  It was perfect, it was exactly what would
have filled that vague aching spot inside every Christmas of her
life.  She felt her eyes start to water and tried to blink it away
before turning back to Nick and the Schankes.  Nick leaned close,
missing nothing as always, and whispered "You're not gonna go all
deep and gooey on me, are you?"  She couldn't answer, regarding him
with a damp and wide-eyed stare.  "Joyeux Noël, ma doucette," he told
her with that loving smile that always touched her soul.

"I so love you to bits, Nicolas de Brabant," and she kissed him
thoroughly, right in front of everyone.  When she finally released
him Nick told Myra appreciatively, "When you're right, you're right."

"So, who's this de Brabant guy?" Schanke asked.  "Do a little 'role
playing' in your private time?"

Maura slapped his arm.  "You're a pig, Schanke.  Just an old family
name left behind with the centuries."

Vamp took the stage, and Derek announced he wanted to "set the tone
for a dark, romantic party".  The band slid into an original
instrumental, bass-heavy, slow, and smooth.  To avoid more questions
from Schanke (and, frankly, because he loved touching her silk velvet
dress), Nick scooped Maura around the waist, whirled them around and
asked her, "Dance, lady?"  She felt the same rush she always did when
he turned on his noir charm.  "I thought you'd never ask."  

"But you just got here," Schanke tried to correct her, and his wife
nudged him hard in the ribs.  "Sometimes, Donnie, I swear you are
denser than dense."

On the way to the dance floor Maura pulled Nick to a stop.  "Wait a
minute.  I got a surprise for you."

"This could be a limited offer, don't pass it up," he warned,
clearly not meaning a word of it.

"No, really, it'll only take a minute.  Or two."  She motioned to
Derek, who she knew had planned the instrumental as an intro to let
Maura know they were ready for the song she had written with him. 
She'd always had a gift for words, and together with Derek's gift for
music they had crafted a song for her to perform as a Christmas
present to Nick.  Maura hoped it managed to capture the essence of
her life since meeting Nick.  When they'd finished it and done a pre-
arrangement run through with just Maura singing and Derek
accompanying on piano, he'd told her "Shit, Luna, I'd take a stake if
the last thing I could hear was some woman singing that to me."

Derek gave her a hand up to the stage as Nick looked on, bemused.
Schanke and Myra drifted up to join him, the ever-inquisitive partner
asking "What's up, Knight?  She gonna sing Deck the Halls or
something?"  Nick just shrugged.

"Dunno, she said it was a surprise for me."  Then Derek cued the
lights to focus on Maura, and she never took her eyes from Nick until
the last note faded.  She watched anxiously for his response; she
knew her talent for words was far superior to her voice but Derek had
insisted she sing it herself.  "Come on, Luna, I can't sing it to
him!  I mean, I'm a vampire and all, but I'm no weirdo!"

The expression on Nick's face was curious, equal parts of surprise,
delight, and an affectionate gratitude she was sure he'd seen in her
before but, neither one could define.  The applause was scattered and
polite; many of the partiers paid little attention.  Nick's face was
all Maura saw as she said with a somewhat hesitant smile, "Joyeux
Noël, chauve-sourix."  He lit up.  "Bats," he said under his breath,
and she mouthed the same to him, silently. 	

"I'd say your tree's been trumped," an impressed Schanke announced,
punctuating with a manly punch to Nick's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'd say so..." Nick responded a little vaguely, still staring
at center stage where Derek had just gotten a thank-you hug from
Maura and was helping her down to the dance floor again.  She was
immediately swept into Nick's embrace, so strong it lifted her right
off the floor.  

"I've never been given such a present," he whispered in her ear. 
She felt a bit awkward after their earlier heated kiss.

"And you don't have to dust it," she laughed, adding, "put me down,
will you, everybody's staring."  He did as she asked.

"And so they should."  He ran a hand fondly through her hair, and
leaned close to kiss her cheek.  "Merci beaucoup, doucette."

"Okay, okay, I've had about enough of this secret code stuff,"
Schanke interjected.  "You should at least be polite enough to keep
it at home." 

Still laughing, Maura took Schanke's arm.  "It's just French,
honest.  'Chauve-sourix' means 'bats'."

"Another old family name?" he inquired of his partner with raised
eyebrows.

"Just an inside joke," he was assured.  

Across the room, Natalie had taken in the whole scene and was
fighting her own emotions.

Now Maura took Nick by the hand and said, "Okay, slick, now we dance."

"'Slick'?" Nick echoed.  "I'm not sure I like that."

"Tough," she hauled him out on the floor.  

"Don't you love it when they're masterful?" Schanke called to him as
Myra dragged him out to dance as well.  The band was playing a bluesy
number, and Maura melted into Nick as he wove them between the other
dancers.

"I wasn't sure you'd like it," she confessed in his ear, "I know how
you hate being the center of attention."

He turned his head to look at her in amazement.  "How could I hate
anything you gave me?"

"Except a hard time," she snickered and held tight as he whirled and
dipped her forward against him, in a "take that" move.  When he
righted them again, Maura settled her head on his shoulder, forehead
against his neck.

"I so love you to bits," she murmured, "I just wanted everyone else
to know, too.  I hoped you wouldn't mind."		

"I can handle it," and he hugged her closer.

A hand lightly tapped Maura's shoulder as they approached a corner
of the dance floor near the bar.  "I'd like to cut in, but I forgot
my crowbar."  Natalie.  

Shit.  Maura was very comfortable where she was, wrapped up with
Nick and letting him move them to the music.  The fact that she could
"wrap up" with him anytime didn't cheer her.  But it was Christmas,
and Natalie and Nick were best friends even if Natalie would sell her
soul (literally) to have more.  Being honest with herself, Maura knew
Natalie would never try to persuade Nick away so long as she knew he
was happy.  But still.  Shit.  Maura wasn't proud of it, but knew she
wasn't above being selfish even at Christmas.  She arranged what she
hoped was a convincing smile on her face and unwound herself from
Nick to face Natalie.

"Go ahead, I shouldn't hog him all night like this anyway.  I rag on
him to socialize, and look what happens."  Nick cast a meaningful
look to her, but she brightened her smile.  "I haven't gossiped with
Janette yet, and there are so many people here to observe and
discuss.  Catch up with me later." 

She figured she looked a little grumpy when she joined Janette, who
was sipping her usual rare vintage of blood wine at her usual table.

"How very gracious you are, cherie, in the holiday spirit?"

"Pfeh."  Maura reached for the bottle without thinking, but Janette
stopped her hand.

"Oh my, are we feeling a bit"

"Jealous?  Hell no, we both know I have nothing to worry about."

Janette considered this as she watched Nick and Natalie dancing,
their conversation more intimate than their posture.  "Perhaps...
annoyed, then."

Maura waved one of the special events waiters, who had quite
literally flown in from France, to the table.  "Un bouteille de
Cristal, s'il vous plait."  The attractive young vampire - the only
kind Janette would employ for such an event - seemed to evaporate
from in front of her and reappeared momentarily with the bottle.  He
uncorked it with a flourish and poured a flute for Maura, making it
hover for a moment in midair before placing it in her hand rather
than on the table.

"Merci beaucoup, c'est tout," Maura told him, and he was gone again.
Turning to Janette she observed "You always hire for talent for these
parties, don't you?"

"Yes, well," Janette looked rather displeased, "he had better learn
to curb his little parlor tricks or he will have the Enforcers down
on our heads."

"Not to mention a roomful of new believers."  She slugged down the
full flute, then poured herself another.  Janette smirked in distaste.

"Please, cherie, that is Cristal, not that dreadful Jacques Daniels
you favor."  Janette considered bourbon déclassé.  

"Sorry."  She sipped the next glass a bit more genteelly.    	

"You have a talent for music, cherie."  

"Thanks Janette, but Derek wrote it, not me."

"The words came from you, did they not?  And what is a love song
without words?"

Maura smiled to herself.  "Yeah, I always did have the gift.  Or so
I've been told."

Janette's smile grew companionable as she leaned over to confide,
"Well you certainly talked your way into Raven, and into Nicolas'
heart."

"Don't tell him that.  He doesn't think he has one."
				
Janette dismissed the comment with an elegant wave.  "I think we
both know the truth of that."  She clinked her wine glass against
Maura's flute.  "Joyeux Noël, cherie.  And I think that this will be
a good New Year."

Maura sat back in mock surprise.  "Why Janette!  Indulging in a
Christian holiday tradition?"  She looked around rapidly, as if for
spies, before adding sotto voce, "What would the Enforcers say?"

Janette snorted, which really shocked Maura.  "What is it you're
fond of saying, the Enforcers 'peuvent embrasser ma derrière."  

Maura burst out laughing, and found herself unable to stop.  Janette
could drop the grand vampire dame persona completely at the most
unexpected moments.  "Oh Janette," she gasped, hand on her employer's
arm, "it's true, everything does sound better in French!"  The humor
struck Janette as well, and she joined in Maura's laughter.  

Natalie kissed Nick and wished him a Merry Christmas, a gesture and
sentiment he returned.

"First time in a century I've really had one," he admitted.  Though
he was looking her in the eye, she knew where his mind was.

"That was some song."

Nick's smile struck Natalie as almost private.  "Yeah, it was,
wasn't it."

"Nick, you seem happy."  It had the feel of a concession to
something Natalie hadn't wanted to admit to herself, but she saw
something in Nick tonight that had never before been apparent.

"Happy?  I'm not sure I know what that is, Nat."  They were dancing
slowly among couples clinging closely together; Natalie was as aware
of the "casual" space between them as Nick was aware of its necessity.

"Content, then.  At peace, maybe.  Nick, really, if that's what this
change in your life has brought you, you need to know it makes me
happy to see it."

"Peace," he mused, "not sure I know that either, but I'm willing to
learn."  They'd drifted to a stop in a shadowed corner.

"I wish I could have," Natalie began, having promised herself she
wouldn't, but a couple of drinks and the emotion of the holiday
overcame her discretion.

"Don't," he chided gently, and regarded her with an understanding
expression that was almost painful for her to see because she felt it
was so close to pity.  "Yours is my most precious friendship, I
couldn't live without it, or you, or us.  You know I care about you."

Natalie's gaze slid to the corner where Maura's continuing laughter
triggered a palpable reaction in Nick, as always.  "You just care for
her more."  Her voice was sad, not bitter.  Nick turned her to face
him with two fingers against her chin.

"No, not more.  Differently.  We're two of a kind, Maura and me,
neither fish nor fowl.  We understood one another almost from the
moment we met, and that fills a space in me I never really knew
existed until she took its place.  That doesn't change anything
between you and me."

"You love her very much, don't you?"  More acknowledgment than
inquiry.

That smile again.  "I think you knew that even before I did."

"I only want you to be who you should be, who you want to be," for
some reason Natalie felt the need to explain.

"She believes I already am."

"But do you?  That's what's important.  You've always told me you
wanted something more than what you had, even if you learned to let
the past be past, you wanted something more human.  So you could
share the lives and feelings of the people you care about, who care
about you."

They'd stopped dancing and were standing separately now.  Nick
touched Natalie's shoulder lightly.  

"I think I'm learning that there might be a middle ground for me. 
Maybe I can exist in two worlds, with everyone I care about, without
judging anyone.  And without judging myself."  He seemed to be
choosing his words carefully as he went, to express something that
had only just occurred to him.

"She's convinced you of all that."

"No, not like that.  But I think I've been able to convince myself
for the first time, since knowing her.  Oh Nat," he gestured for
emphasis, "you've helped me master the darkest parts of myself, you
and Maura still help me realize it doesn't always have to be dark
even at night.  Maybe the reason you haven't 'cured' me is that
there's nothing to cure.  Maybe the protein drinks and garlic pills
and sun lamps are just a denial of what I can't change, and
shouldn't.  Maybe I'm meant to cope with who I am the best I can, the
way anyone else does.  Maybe that's how I'm meant to be 'mortal'."	

Natalie knew there was no use pursuing it.  He was in love with
Maura and was making an existence for himself that was more like a
real life than perhaps he'd ever known.  He didn't have to tell her. 
He also didn't have to tell her that for all of his decisive words,
enough doubt remained to hold him back, as his doubts about being
mortal held him back from giving up his bottles.  But what he'd said
about loving Maura was true; she had known it before he did.  She
knew him that well.  She took a resolute breath, and looked him in
the eye.  "Maybe you're right.  But even if you aren't I'm glad
things are working out for you.  I always thought you deserved to
have someone at home who loves you that much."  Even if it can't be
me, she added silently.  He gave her a warm hug and kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Nat.  It wouldn't be right without you." 
Releasing her, his eyes followed Maura's renewed laughter.  "C'mon,
let's see what all the hysterics are about."  When she hung back on
his hand for half a second, his gently pained look back at her said
"Don't."  So she didn't.  Instead she trailed Nick as he strolled to
the corner where Maura and Janette were recovering their decorum. 
They arrived at the table just in time to hear Maura intone with a
raised glass, "Á les Enforceurs."  Nick fell back a step in shock.

"What!?"

Janette was in a fine mood, and waved Nick away.  "Relax, Nicolas,
we are being festive.  And being festive means dismissing anything
that might dull our good cheer."  Well into her fourth glass of
champagne, Maura nodded enthusiastically, her hair flying around her
head, wisps coming loose from their silver barrettes. 		

"Yeah, Nick, chill, will ya?"  It was a phrase often used by the
younger Raven employees.  "This is a party."

Janette announced with mock disapproval, "Your amour vrai has been
communing with the Cristal, Nicolas.  I fear she will be unfit to
drive."

"As if he'd let anyone drive that machine cold sober," Natalie was
unable to control herself.

"Come on, let's dance off some of that expensive buzz," Nick
invited.  Maura took his outstretched hand and swept to his side, a
bit unsteadily.  

"Don't worry," he assured her, "I'll lead."  She answered with a
"pffflllt" in his ear which he tried to brush away as he led her out
to join the other dancers.

"I believe our Maura has gone a bit silly with champagne," observed
Janette.

"I'd say so," agreed Natalie.  She couldn't help but recognize how
perfectly they seemed to fit one another.

Maura melted into Nick as he pulled an arm tight around her waist. 
The music was smooth and bluesy and he moved them together as if they
were joined as one.  

"Mmm, Bats," she purred against his cheek, "if you play your cards
right I might just come home with you tonight."  He laughed softly. 
"And if you play your cards right, I might just let you."

"Smooth talker," and she kissed his neck for emphasis then settled
on his shoulder again.  His fingers moved against the velvet of her
dress as he enjoyed her softness as well as the fabric.  

"Have I told you lately that I love you?" he whispered.

"Sounds like a song I heard once... but yeah you have."

"Well how about I tell you again," and she lifted her head up to
look him in the eye, their noses almost touching.

"I love you," he told her with a smile, pursing his lips on the last
word to kiss her.

"You do have great taste," she pronounced, adding slyly,  "But lemme
taste you again, just to be sure," and she fastened onto his mouth,
wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling fingers in his hair. 
She so loved him warm, as he was all the time now.

After enjoying her impulse for a moment or two, Nick gently pried
his face away.  "Is this a snack or a meal?"

"Up to you, Nicolas."  She tipped her head ever so slightly to the
side, pressed still closer, and was rewarded by the faintest pulse of
gold deep in his eyes.

"You are a dangerous drunk," he mumbled.  He stepped back and led
her to a group of coworkers to socialize.  Shop talk was inevitable,
and with nothing to amuse her Maura wandered off to the bar.  Nick
tried to keep one eye on her as he chatted with fellow detectives. 
Finally Schanke leaned over and warned, "Better check on your party
girl, partner, before you have to squeegee her off the floor."

She'd wheedled another glass of champagne out of Miklos, who was
keeping a close eye on her and hadn't permitted her to leave for
parts unknown.  Lucky for him, Nick thought, that Miklos had the sort
of commanding demeanor that usually guaranteed compliance from Maura
without her realizing it.

"Ooooh, bay-beeee," she sang as she spun back and forth on the bar
stool.  Nick held onto her belt to keep her anchored.  She was
progressing from silly to genuinely swacked, but behaving herself
nicely.

"Oh baby yourself.  How much of that bubbly have you had?"  She
seldom drank so it didn't take much, and he'd counted five glassed so
far.

"I dunno.  Don't worry, it's a present from Janette."  

"Remind me to thank her," he muttered as she pulled him closer,
draping velvet arms around his neck.

"Don't be grumpy, it's Christmas," she pouted, then brightened. 
"Thank you for my tree.  Will it fit in the corner by the stereo?"
she mused vaguely, staring over his shoulder.

"Um, I'm afraid not," it hadn't occurred to him she might want to
bring it home.  Then again, it hadn't occurred to him she'd drain
Janette's stock of Cristal, either.  "How about we just leave it here
and Janette and all of you can take care of it.  You'll see it almost
every night at work."

"I don't think she'll wanna keep it, she's not really into desca,
decra," she struggled with the word, finally settling for "that kinda
stuff."

Nick grinned at her drunken dignity.  "Decorations?"

"Yeah them."

"Well I'll have a word with her.  She'll be okay with it, I
promise."  He hoped.  Maura was scowling.

"Oh sure, do do that voodoo that you do so well," and they were both
amazed that she managed it.  "No woman can resist your smooth talk,
huh, living or dead."

"Sssh!"  Nick glanced around to make sure no mortals had heard. 
"And don't be grumpy.  It's Christmas."  He defused her scowl with a
kiss.  This was a whole new facet to the woman he thought he'd come
to know inside and out.  Silly and girly and totally unlike the usual
hard-edged smartassed semi-neurotic broad who'd been sharing his
life.  He wasn't sure he'd like her this way all the time, but for
now it was kind of fun.  "Maybe someone brought a camera, we can take
a picture of it and hang it up at home."

Maura's silly smile had returned and she shook her head.  "Uh-uh,
that's okay.  I'll keep it here," and she tapped the center of her
chest, making the emerald briolette dance.  "Right next to you."

"Now who's smooth-talking?"  

"Mmm... me."  He expected a giggle to follow, but instead she
laughed low and rich, and he faltered at the sound of it.  She pulled
him closer, "You love when I do that, huh.  I knew it all along,
Detective Cool.  Detective Cool and logic, and one laugh turns you
into a real horndog."  Now she did giggle.  "Like that'll be the
day."  He frowned a little at that.

"I'm sorry, that was just mean," she touched his face, "so soft,
you're so soft like velvet," and his smile returned.  "I love you so
much, Just Nick, it scares me sometimes. I never meant to, not
really.  I just meant to be friends."

"We are."  He regarded her for a minute or two with amused
affection.  "I love you too, doucette.  But it doesn't scare me a
bit."  She was beginning to look a little bleary.  "Come on,
Champagne Charlie, let's go home."  At that moment Janette appeared
from nowhere, holding Maura's wrap and purse.

"Do you suppose she has saved up every Christmas of her life for
this night?" she asked in amusement.

"I'd say so."

"I'm getting too sleepy," Maura confessed, "I need some fresh air to
wake up."

"And quite a lot of coffee, I think," Janette offered with a raised
eyebrow.  Nick's face lit with an inspired smile.  "Okay, we'll get
you all the fresh air you can stand."  He fished his car keys out of
his pocket and tossed them on the bar.  "Have one of the guys drive
the Caddy home," he whispered to the confused Janette, then helped
Maura on with her wrap and motioned to a waiter to bring him his
overcoat.  When it arrived he wrapped his woolen scarf around Maura's
neck and put his fur-lined leather gloves on her.   He never really
needed them anyway.

"Ooh, cross-dressing," Maura drawled, "kinky."

"Cold out," he explained and leaned over to kiss Janette.  "Thanks
for the party.  I promised Maura you'd agree to keep the tree here
for as long as it lasts."  Janette's protest was muffled by another
kiss.  "I knew you'd say yes.  See you soon," and he brought Maura to
her feet and guided her through their various goodnights.  

"'night Schankes," Maura bubbled to Nick's partner and his wife. 
"You knew all along this was a good idea, didn't you?"

"When you're right, you're right," Schanke confirmed.  "Merry
Christmas, guys."  Myra gave Nick and Maura both a kiss and hug, but
the stunner was Maura grabbing Schanke by a lapel and smooching his
cheek loudly.  "You're a good guy, Schank.  Take it from one who
knows from assholes."  Nick roared with laughter.

"Uh thanks, I guess," Schanke was, as usual, a little uncertain how
he should reply.

"Don't worry, Schank, just the Cristal version of a compliment,"
Nick assured him with a wink as he steered Maura out the side door.

"What'd I say?"  Nick tightened his grip on her as he laughed again.

"Nothing, Sweet, we're all just a little crazy tonight."  He led her
to a darkened corner of the employees' parking lot.	

"Where are we going?  We parked on the street."  The cold air had
sharpened her up a little.  He looked around furtively to check if
anyone could see.  Nobody.

"Uh, what exactly are you gonna do?" Maura asked a little uneasily.

"How's your stomach?"

"My what?"

"I mean, you had a lot to drink.  How are you feeling?"

"You brought me out back to puke?"

He caught her face between his hands.  "Focus, Maura."  They had to
move fast before anyone else came by.

"Fine, I'm fine.  Just a little, you know," she swayed against his
restraining arms, "tanked?"  She made a "wheee" noise as she leaned
her head back.  Nick brought her upright and pulled her arms around
his neck.

"You wanna make out or something?"  She looked around and wrinkled
her nose in distaste, "Kinda gross out here."

"Shut up," he told her abruptly.  "Will you just shut up."  That
worked.  She stared at him, a pout gathering in her lower lip. 
"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it, okay?"

"Not until you tell me why."

He rolled his eyes in frustration.  "Okay, have it your way," and he
scooped her up in his arms, and the earth fell away.  

Maura felt a whoosh as they left the ground.  She would have
screamed, but only managed a tiny squeak before clutching Nick's neck
in a death grip.  Suddenly she was stone cold sober.

"Holy shit! You could warn a person!"

"Then it wouldn't be a surprise."  He grinned at her, thoroughly
pleased with himself.  "Merry Christmas, Maura."
		
Once she caught her breath, she looked out at the night sky that
surrounded them.  It was a fine, clear night and they seemed to be
floating into the stars, stars that in turn blended with the
sparkling Toronto skyline.  The full moon made the snow below them
glow blue-white.  "Omigod, oh Nick, this is awesome!"  

"Wait'll I show you something else," and he took them to the CNN
Tower, setting them down on the long-closed observation deck well
away from the spotlights where they wouldn't be seen.  Maura knew her
eyes were bugging out as she took in the city below them.

"And you don't have to dust it," he teased.  She turned to him as he
put his arms around her.

"I so love you to bits, Maura Logue."  His voice was quiet and warm,
the way he spoke to her when they were alone at home.  The city
sounds drifted up from the street.  

"It sounds like music," she murmured.  A little overcome, she
pressed her face into his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, what's this?"  He lifted her chin so she had to look at
him.  Her eyes were bright, but not with tears.

"I forgot to thank Janette.  That's terrible."

He was confused.  "Janette?"

"Yeah.  Remember, she gave me a job when nobody else would.  She
gave me a place to start a life, and she introduced you to me.  This
is all because of her."  She suppressed a laugh.  "Wouldn't it kill
her to know that."

Nick's amused expression was contagious, and they both laughed out
loud at the unspoken joke.

"C'mon, I'll fly you home the scenic route.  Unless of course you
have something to top this," he swept his hand around them, more than
a little proudly.

"I don't think so... you guys are such grandstanders."

When they arrived home Maura was a bit chilled, so Nick got the fire
turned up in the gas fireplace and started to bundle her up in a
blanket.

"Hey, what is it with this babying stuff?" she protested, pushing
him away.  "Unless you're starting to believe LaCroix, that you've
got a pet to take care of."  

"Not until I get you de-clawed, I don't."  Nick dropped the blanket
and went to the kitchen to get a bottle.  	

"I'll be right back, I wanna get out of my party clothes."  She
bounced up the stairs and stopped short when she saw what was laid
out on the bed.  When the hell could he have done that?  Arranged
artfully across the quilt was a gorgeous kimono crafted of silks,
velvets, and furs.  It obviously came from the same source as those
owned by himself and Janette.  The lining was a ripple-cut silk
velvet, like the stuffed animals Maura always was compelled to clutch
and pet whenever she saw them in a shop.  The colors ranged from
burgundy to mahogany browns and the deepest emeralds, guaranteed to
set off her hair and eyes and complexion.  With barely a pause, she
tore carelessly out of her clothes and wrapped herself up in it.  Oh
my god, she nearly swooned, it was so soft and warm, reaching to her
feet and the tips of her fingers.  It was bound by a wide, heavy sash
made from silk and velvet, ending in long soft fringes.  She was
beginning to feel like this Christmas was going to go on forever.

She managed to make it down the stairs in fairly regal fashion,
trying hard not to trip on the overlong hem.  Nick's face was
absolutely glowing - or was it the firelight - when she swept to a
stop in front of where he was pretending to read.

"You forgot the slippers," she deadpanned, but he reached behind him
with a flourish and pulled out a pair of purple plush bunny slippers.
				
"To complete the ensemble," he explained as she cracked up.

"Bunny slippers!" she howled, "You dress me up like an empress, and
give me bunny slippers?"

He shrugged.  "I dunno, I think they work..."  She dove into his
arms where he sat on the floor propped against the sofa.

"You're starting to scare me.  Is this gonna be, like, a potlatch or
something?  Like I can't possibly top you, so into the fire I go?"

He considered this.  "There's a thought... nah.  I just figured
you'd gone your whole life without Christmas, it's time to catch up."

She settled back against him, feeling absolutely clichéd as they
watched the flames.  "I may not need another Christmas as long as I
live."

"Oh, don't say that, you'll spoil my fun."		

Maura lay back with her head in the hollow of Nick's shoulder, his
arm wrapped around, fingers idly playing on her skin at the edge of
the loose collar of the kimono.  Skin to velvet, velvet to skin,
until it was difficult for him to tell one from another.  She took
his hand, finally, and kissed the palm, and the inside of his wrist
where she would drink if she were going to join him.  She turned her
face up to his and looked at him a long moment before reaching up to
run her hand behind his head.  As she deepened the kiss and turned to
face him, wound tighter to him, the old protective reflex stirred. 
She felt his hesitation, less than a beat of the one heart between
them, and whispered against his cheek, "No.  You can't hurt me,
because I'm not afraid.  You can't hurt me because you haven't
betrayed me.  I love you, and you can't hurt me," her voice was at
once persuasive and childishly stubborn.  She stopped his forceless
protest with more kisses, took the hands that tried to pull away and
filled them with kisses, I love you Nick, I love you, I'm not afraid
of you, don't be afraid of me.  And for the first time in his long
divided life, before and after 800 years, he breathed, "Yes." and,
because she was the one deciding, his fears for her were calmed.  No
lies, no tricks or betrayal, no false obedience, just her choosing
him, as he was, not in spite but because, persuading him, she covered
him in kisses, every touch a kiss and every kiss touching the heart
he swore he didn't have, until now.  Until now.

Maura moved to Nick's lap, distracting him with kisses, eyes and
hair and chin and neck, kisses where each button was pulled apart,
kisses on his hands and wrists and where the pale hard muscled
shoulders came loose from the eternal shelter of his clothes, kisses
trailing on his chest, she bathed him in them and felt him giving
himself up, no longer the hunter, the taker, now the needed, wanted,
loved.  She soothed the feral passions away as they came, calmed with
kisses to still the growl in his throat, to fade the gold from his
eyes, gentle the steel from his grip.  There would be no bruises this
time, no reproach.  And when his mouth opened between the kisses he
covered her with in return, she touched light fingers to fang tips
and said "No, not this time, this time you love me in my world, I've
loved you in yours, it's my turn now," and the fangs receded and
growls turned to deep murmurs as she pressed him to his back on the
thick rug, and covered him warm, not burning uncontrolled flames, but
warm and embracing like the sunshine he'd forsaken so long ago and
missed so painfully.  Something shifted inside him, and for now,
right now, he wasn't a despised creature or a mistaken creation, but
just a man, wanting to touch and hold and breathe and feel warmth,
softness, Sweet, he whispered, Sweet.  Please I want to know, I want
to remember what I've never had, just this once.  And somewhere in
the waves of kisses now there was just skin, skin and her kimono
covering them as she stroked the parts of him that had forgotten what
tenderness was, the places he feared the most because they had always
turned his passion to rage.  "You can't hurt me," she promised into
his mouth and he returned against her skin, "Never," and when she
settled on him the completeness of the connection, the keenness of
the ache in him, were almost too much and he turned his head and shut
his eyes so he wouldn't have to see hers ask him why he'd waited so
long.  Then he turned sharply to look up at her, tightened his
embrace in a rush of sensation, and the eyes looking into hers were
clear blue, the voice quiet and gentle, the words so human.  "Ma
doucette," and he rolled her to her side, and locked them together,
but this time she led the dance whose steps he'd forgotten, if he'd
ever known them at all.

He fit her so perfectly, held her so completely, kissed and clung
and urged and moaned her name, and the surges that shot through her
matched the lights in her head.  Something magic was in him, the same
magic as when he took her in his own way, different now because he
was accepting her, finally, in hers.  Pleasure beyond pleasure, it
wasn't just the rarity of his biology but their connection itself, so
complete even before this.  She thought she'd been in control of
this, but she was so wrong, as he rolled her beneath him and mastered
their rhythm, no fear, no violence, the doubts that had kept him
apart abandoned him now.  Gasps and whimpers escaped her, words
dissolved into purer sounds until finally she was reduced to holding
on for dear life as she had earlier when he flew them over the city,
only now he flew them somewhere entirely different.  "Sweet, sweet,
ma doucette," he repeated like a mantra, his face resting against
hers, soft whiskers stroking her cheek with every movement, his hands
moving and exploring and petting her in contrast to her own tight
grip round his back.

The ache in him grew, its keenness grew, and at the same time he
reached for his climax he dreaded its finality.  He wanted it to last
forever, this complete joining apart from blood that somehow brought
him the same full knowledge of her, and himself as well.  He cried
out as the fire blossomed and exploded in him, heard her calling his
name as if from a great distance, and he couldn't seem to stop moving
and caressing, trying so hard to keep it from ending, but the ache
disappeared in that final explosion even as the warmth remained.  And
softness, and the sound of a single heartbeat coming back to earth. 
Somewhere in his sensible mind he took care to move so he wouldn't
press her too hard, then let his strength leave him entirely, his
face resting against Maura's neck, mouth pressed to the place he was
always drawn to, where he felt her life beat with a pulse that now
left him strangely untempted.

"See, you can't hurt me," she barely whispered, not having regained
her breath.  He felt her hand moving in his hair, stroking as if to
comfort him.  When he lifted his head from her she could see the
tears, pink trails on his face, in the firelight.  "Oh, don't," she
told him, "don't," and hugged him tight against her.  "Ssh, it's all
right, really, you were just trying to keep me safe."  She tried to
think of more wise words, but he faced her again with  the smile that
said all things, and nuzzled her cheek before rolling onto his back
and wrapping her kimono around them both.  He hugged her so tight she
could barely breathe, rubbed her back over and over, loving the feel
of her as her breath and heartbeat slowed to normal.

"That was very reckless of you.  How could you possibly know ?"  He
felt her smile against his skin.

"I know you."

"And I don't."

"Nope, not very often.  You know history, you know habit, but you
haven't really gotten to know you even after all those centuries and
lives."  They shifted so she was on her back as he leaned above her
on an elbow.

"You've always been 'you'," he told her, "I've been so many people,
had so many lives, all I could ever be sure of is what I used to be
before, and what..." he didn't want to say the name, not now, "what
he made me became the only constant."

She traced a finger along his lower lip and he caught it briefly in
his teeth before kissing it.  "I'm no philosopher-shrink, okay?" she
told him, "I love who you are, I don't care how you got that way." 
He dropped his head to her shoulder with a laugh.

"So you're the cowboy and I'm Marilyn Monroe.  Interesting."

"Not so different," she was embarrassed by being caught out in a
direct steal from the movies.  "You think you're not good enough, and
I know you are."

"I'll try to take your word for it."  She saw such sadness under the
gentle smile, so familiar, she couldn't keep quiet about it any longer.

"I can't not ask you anymore, Nick, why, why is it every sweet and
caring thing you do makes you so sad?  Even this, sharing more than
just my blood, you still seem hurt or frightened by it."

Nick took her hand and pressed his lips into the palm before going
on.  "For a vampire, there is no 'sharing', there is only taking.  
Need, loneliness, hunger, and thirst are all one and the only
satisfaction of them is taking, every drop and essence of a victim or
even a lover.  When a mortal is the object the only real fulfillment
results in death, which leaves you empty again and hunting for the
next fulfillment.  I've had mortal women before, I've made love to
them and drunk from them without killing them at the time but for me
it was really just an extended bout of foreplay.  In the end, the
kill was all.  There wasn't ever a 'little death' for me without true
death for the other."  When he'd finished she was stroking his beard,
his face, the lines around his eyes, over and over, trying to soothe
the bad memories away.  She certainly understood by now, he hadn't
needed to draw her a map, that for any vampire the only true sexual
satisfaction came from sex and blood, simultaneously, completely
distinct from merely feeding.  Feeding was survival, hunting was the
game that made it more pleasurable and powerful, but true carnal
passion for physical connection could only be satisfied by human and
vampire lovemaking combined.  Though Nick had learned he could engage
in the latter without the former, the opposite had seemed impossible.  

When Nick's physical need became too great to ignore, Maura knew he
went to Janette.  Only a vampire could share a vampire's lust and
survive.  She knew it wasn't only out of concern for her safety, but
to indulge his physical passion completely that he sought out his
lifelong lover.  She always knew when it happened, he'd have been
strained and distant, perhaps he'd have recently drunk from her more
frequently than usual.  What mortals would laugh at as "horniness"
went to the bone in Nick's kind, taking hold deeper and more fiercely
until there was no turning away from it.  And for the past hundred
years, since forswearing killing, Nick had found his connection with
Janette.  Though she wished she could give Nick everything he needed,
Maura was glad that Janette was there.  He'd come back calmer,
relaxed and less on edge when Maura was close to him, but his
improved temper would be laced with guilt.  It bothered him that
Maura didn't have a similar source of solace, even though she'd tried
to explain to him it was different for her, for mortals.  "It's not
that I'm being noble or 'faithful', you have to believe me I was
never the martyr type.  I just don't want anyone else.  It's
different, Nick, we're different that way, sex for me is part of the
big picture.  Please, don't let it bother you so much.  I don't have
trouble with it, so don't you either."  It was a futile debate, of
course.

After more silent flame-staring they made their way to bed.  As the
sun rose, with the harmless sliver of light prying its way through
the shade to dance in the antique mirror, Nick lay watching Maura
sleep.  She wasn't nearly as beautiful as most of the women he'd
known, wasn't as graceful or elegant, didn't possess the fragile
charm that had often attracted him.  She met him equally, challenged
his long-held assumptions about himself and the world and
occasionally (though not always) proved them wrong.  It wasn't that
she was so wise or brilliant, but that she found certain assumptions
annoying and limiting.  She had little patience with "bullshit" and
anything Maura saw as foolish or ill-informed she regarded as
"bullshit".  She could be wrong as often as right, but maddeningly
persistent in both cases.  When she was right, and pried him from his
illusions, the results were formidable.

Even as a mortal, Nicolas de Brabant used his charm and good looks
to entice women into his bed.  Once there, his regard for them ended.
If the woman who caught his eye would not be enticed, she could be
forced.  It was all the same, the goal was to have her.  Sex was the
reward of power, and once he was made a knight, an agent of the king,
Nicolas used his title and its protection to wield his power at every
possible opportunity.  Tenderness was for virginal fantasies, and
passion was irrevocably wedded to selfish entertainment.  Even the
willing were treated roughly, power adding to pleasure.  Taking was
everything.  

Once LaCroix brought him across, his power was limitless and the
"rewards" equally so.  He perfected his skills of deception, betrayal
acting as an additional aphrodisiac.  Now the taking was complete,
trust, sex, blood, life.  The ultimate sexual satisfaction, each
conquest was measured not only by orgasm but by death.   The love he
imagined from time to time, the counterfeit regret and conflict that
grew in him as the time for killing drew near, was overcome by the
moment itself.  And all regret faded with the final heartbeat, as he
became consumed with need to find another.  By the time he was
overtaken by conscience, physical passion was indistinguishable from
abuse and death.  When Maura first suggested that his sexual violence
may have been a function of habit and not nature, he swept the notion
aside because it was utterly foreign to his experience.  700 years of
carnal and spiritual depravity, following upon his own mortal
excesses, reinforced his belief that no mortal could survive his
intimate attentions.

He knew Maura welcomed rather than endured him as a vampire lover in
the only way he believed himself capable.  But he had also been
keenly aware of her desire for mortal pleasure.  She had joined him
in his world and had done it freely.  And he had Janette to assuage
his physical needs, where Maura had no-one.  He need only have
believed in himself as she knew him to have realized his mistake. 
Everything in its time, he had learned over the centuries, but how it
must have hurt her.  Not just  physical longing, but his reluctance
to trust her.  "You never believe," she had told him over and over,
in other matters as well, the words always spoken in frustration. 
Well, now he knew.  Maura hadn't told him or taught him or argued him
into submission; as always he simply tired of listening to his own
doubts and gave himself up to whatever would happen.  It was a small
thing to separate sharing her blood from sharing their bodies, he
felt, now that he knew it was possible.			

Feeling very enlightened, wrapped in a reverie that was the stuff of
grand romance, Nick slid closer to where Maura lay, pressing against
her head to foot, kissing her soft shoulder and running his fingers
along her back.  "I'm so sorry, Sweet" he whispered.

Maura's face was pressed into the pillow.  As always she engaged in
sleep like a wanton throwing herself into a debauch, fully and
without reservation, and grasping it fiercely.  "Mmph," she grunted,
unwilling to be pulled from her slumber.

Nick kissed her hair, tried to brush it aside, repeating, "I was
wrong, I'm so sorry."

"Whathafuck?" she mumbled, barely coherent, and one red-and-green
eye opened to look at him in confusion.  "'Sorry' again?"  Too late
to sink back into sleep, she realized, and rolled back a bit to look
at him with both red-and-green eyes.  Well he looked wide-awake,
anyway.  "You got laid with no fatalities for the first time in a
hundred years, and you're sorry?  Well excuse the hell out of me. 
Now you can wait another hundred, feel better?"

This wasn't quite in keeping with Nick's romantic fantasy.  Seeing
his expression turn from rapture to disappointment, she sighed.  He
was so freaking fragile sometimes.

"C'mere," and she pulled him over for a kiss.    "I love you, I love
you so much I can't stand it sometimes.  And you have no idea what
hell it's been to try to make you listen to reason, so last night I
just went for broke.  Really, if I couldn't convince you last night
of all nights, I knew it was a lost cause.  You think I knew you
wouldn't go all beasty, when you were so convinced of it, and when
I'd seen it before?  Maybe 60 or 70% sure, but I guess I've bet my
life on less and won.  I mean, I know you love me and I know you
didn't want to hurt me, so I pretty much counted on that.  I knew you
wouldn't be anybody you shouldn't be... I just hoped what you should
be wouldn't do me in by accident."

Nick was lying on his back now, staring at the ceiling.  Everyone he
knew told him he was addicted to angst.  Even Janette berated him at
times for his "attachment to the Byronesque".  But the rosy glow of
his morning-after mood was more than a little dampened by his all-too-
pragmatic doucette, and he was well on his way into a snit.

"Bats, don't be like that," and he didn't move so she went to him,
leaned against his shoulder and kissed his cheek.  "Nicolas, why does
everything have to be so incredibly deep?  I love you, I wanted you
more last night than anyone I've ever known in my whole miserable
hunted life.  For the first time ever, I was held instead of subdued.
I was with you of my own choice and desire, not as some shitty trade-
off to stay alive.  I'm sorry if I haven't lived long enough or
haven't known enough world-class philosophers and poets to dress it
all up with pretty words.  I need a collaborator and a band for that,
remember?   Don't be 'sorry', I don't need you to be sorry, or
transformed, or anything earth shattering.  I just want you to love
me, and live with me, and figure out this is where and who you
belong.  Okay?  I mean, the rest is like frosting on the cake, it's
real pretty but too much of it makes me queasy."

Now he turned his head to look at her.  "I have known people who
could define the physical act of love in phrases and couplets of such
exquisite beauty that they would make you weep.  You distilled it
into three soulless words: 'you got laid'."

She shook her head in disbelief.  "Well now I'm sorry, but not all
of us have forever to express ourselves.  If you're gonna regress to
the Renaissance, I'm in big trouble."  They stared at one another for
a moment, then Nick reached out and pulled Maura into his arms.

"Sweet, you were in big trouble the first night you came here, you
were just too stubborn to admit it."

"I'm sorry, but you gotta face it, I will never be the full-bore
romantic type, okay?  Life, or my excuse for it, has pretty much
slapped all of the warm fuzzies out of me."

He squeezed her tighter and kissed her hair, her face, her hands. 
"Well then that's something you can learn from me.  I know that
inside that no-frills exterior are a whole bundle of warm fuzzies
just waiting to bust loose.  You just have to get out of their way."

"So I'm supposed to believe a vampire is an expert on warm fuzzies."

He smiled "that" smile.  "I believed a mortal could subdue my darker
instincts, didn't I?"

"Bullshit.  I just worked you over until you got carried away.  All
you 'believed' was what you were feeling at the time.  Which was all
part of my master plan, bwahahahaha."  She continued to snicker
wickedly as she kissed and nibbled his neck and shoulders.  "See how
much fun you can have when you just loosen up?"  She was leaning over
him now, her hair tickling his skin.  

"A 'master plan', huh?"

"Well it worked, didn't it?"  

He shook his head and pulled her down to him.  "You had me right
where I wanted you..." 

"Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.  I seduced the Great Seducer, and not
a drop of blood shed.  Quick, call the Enforcers."  He didn't answer
but occupied himself by scattering slow kisses from her elbow along
the impossibly soft skin of her inner arm moving lazily toward her
hand.

"Y'know," she mused as Nick ran his lips idly over her palm, "that
there's a warm and fuzzy I could really get used to."

He pressed a kiss in her palm before asking, "What's that?"

"What you're doing."

"Mmm, I see," he gave her tiny pecks up the inside of her wrist, to
her shoulder, ending on her cheek.  Don't be fooled, I'm just tasting
you for later."

"You're the only vampire I've known who did that, really.  All that
crap in the movies and cheesy novels about the 'vampire's kiss' and
trust me, there ain't no such thing.  Nobody I ever met did anything
but bite and usually not too nicely either."

He leaned on an elbow, fascinated.  "You're serious, aren't you? 
Well I never imagined I'd meet anyone who thought kisses were exotic."

Maura frowned a little, remembering.  "You would if you never had
any."

Now he laughed.  "Oh, come on.  Sweet whatever, and never been
kissed?"  Then he saw the look on her face, and stopped laughing.

"I never told you the story of how I got here, did I?"  She was
lying on her back, gazing at the ceiling as if into the past.

"Just that you'd had enough of Vancouver.  Though I always suspected
there was more.  I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."

She smiled, still not looking at him.  "That's one of the things I
love about you, the world's first kissy vampire is also the world's
first detective who doesn't ask too many questions.  Well it was like
this.  I'd been living with this guy, this mortal, if  you can
believe it, Jerry was his name.  All Goth and shit, dark and deep and
all.  But I was tired, you know?  I wanted just once to be with
somebody who had an expiration date, like me.  Someone who only
preferred the dark instead of needing it.  He was smart, and funny,
and good looking, and had oodles of money and artistic taste, and for
the first time it seemed like a mortal was interested in me.  I mean,
he knew all about me and didn't think I was some freak.  Of course
looking back I know now that what he loved about me was that I was
the closest he'd ever get to the real thing, if you know what I mean.
He kept wanting to go out on the new moon, I guess to use me as bait.
Shoulda let him, he'd have passed out cold if he really met one of
you guys.  The  vamp community thought he was such an annoying poser
they wouldn't touch him.  He did love to hear the stories, and I
loved to think I had someone who would listen.  Some therapist, he
just got off on it I guess. But I believed, how I believed I had the
love of my life, who would listen and care and be there for me.  And
brother, what a hot pants case, he would really get put out if I
didn't put out.  He even pretended to bite me like you do, how sick
is that?  But I didn't mind, I was so in love with the notion of
having a normal relationship with someone who cared about me, didn't
just use me as an in-house drug supply or living party favor, that I
developed very selective awareness.  I moved in with him and stayed
there for almost a year.  Not for protection or anything, I was
better at taking care of myself at that point than he was.  Anyway
one night when we were leaving some bleak club or other, I saw him
kissing some friend goodbye, just some girl he'd known awhile, and on
the way home I asked him hey, how come you never kiss me?   I mean he
never, not once, for all of his not being able to keep his hands off
me in every other way.  I just let it go all that time, figuring if
that was all that was missing, who cared.  But finally I needed to
know, who knows why that night.  And what he said, well I guess he
never really lied to me but what he said put it out in plain
English."  She paused, her frown deepening, and didn't go on until
Nick prompted quietly "What?"

"He said, as casual as you please, 'sex is fun, but kisses are for
the people who really matter'.  Just like that, no apology, not even
any meanness, just matter of fact like I should have known all along.
Maybe I should have."  Nick said nothing, only paused in winding a
strand of her hair through his fingers to run the back of a fingertip
along her cheek, waiting for more.  "But like they say in
Munchkinland, I didn't need a house to fall on me, so he got his
goodbye fuck that night and next morning I packed my shit and went to
the airport.  The flight leaving soonest was for Toronto so I got a
one-way ticket and a few days later was knocking on Janette's door. 
And the rest is infamy."  Nick was lying very close by her side now,
cradling her head in his arm, tracing her cheek with the other hand. 
"I just wanted you to know, for all my wanting to get in your pants
and everything, that the most important things I already found here. 
If sex came to mean violence and death to you, it came to mean
selling out to me.  Just so you know we both have our Dr. Ruth
issues."  She turned her head then to look him in the eye, and he
rested his forehead against hers.

"Dr. Ruth would find this a challenge, but I'm glad you told me. 
And I know you didn't just want to get into my pants, or you wouldn't
still be here."

She tried to deflect his seriousness again.  "Oh, I dunno, I'd say
it was worth hanging around for."  His expression didn't change.

"You do really matter, doucette.  You really matter more than anyone
in my life, and if you ever wonder about that just tell me and I'll
remind you again."  He kissed her now, along her jaw and across her
lower lip, kisses in her hair and warm nuzzles at her ear, her neck. 
"And there is such a thing," he insisted, knowing she'd know what he
meant.  She met his mouth with her own, drawing in his velvet tongue
and losing herself in his arms until he drew back and kissed the tip
of her nose.  "So there."

Maura's story about Jerry stayed with Nick, taking such deep root he
resolved, as he did for Christmas, to make up for what she'd been
deprived of for so long.  He showered her with kisses, kisses to wake
her and send her to sleep, kisses hello and how are you, good morning
and good night and 'what's shakin' Sweet?', and kisses to interrupt
her as she made her dinner.  He even kissed her hello on the rare
occasions she came by the precinct when he was working late and
Vachon dropped her off to ride home with him.  No matter who he was
talking to (usually Schanke) or who was around, he dropped what he
was doing to touch her face and give her a kiss and a warm hug.

"You have become a real smooch hound," she told him one night after
he'd impulsively pressed her to the wall outside of Raven, in full
view of the departing customers.

"Just tasting you for later," he promised in the 'noir' voice he
knew flipped her switches.  Because now he loved to flip them, loved
how she would grab him the minute they shut the loft door behind them
when he'd spoken to her in just that tone of voice.

"You are an audio aphrodisiac, Bats."  She was glued to his back on
the way to the car, hands jammed in his jacket pockets and gripping
his belt through the lining.  He pulled loose to kiss her into the
Caddy.  

"Think of it as aural sex," he teased darkly.

Life, or the nearest they were likely to get to it, was getting very
good.