by Mara

Summary: Henry has a proposal. Mike’s weirded out. Vicki doesn’t react the way
Mike expected.

Henry Fitzroy leaned against the doorway to his apartment, looking elegantly
rumpled, and Mike resisted the urge to punch him just on principle.

“May I help you?” Fitzroy asked.

Mike gritted his teeth. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“Is this another conversation about my predilections for drinking blood? If so,
don’t bother.” Fitzroy’s tone was ironic and his face expressionless.

“No.” Mike took a breath. “Vicki’s barely talking to me since you and I last
fought.” He fought satisfaction as Fitzroy’s bored expression flickered. So he
was right, she’d gotten mad at both of them. “I wanted to see if we could get
over this.”

Fitzroy thought for a moment, then turned. “Come in,” he called over his
shoulder.

Mike followed him into the living room, sitting carefully on a chair as Fitzroy
sat on the couch he’d obviously vacated to answer the door. They sat in silence
for a long moment, Fitzroy seeming content to let him squirm as long as he
wanted, lounging even more elegantly. It was really aggravating.

“So,” Mike said when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“So,” Fitzroy echoed, looking amused.

Mike coughed. “Look, I want Vicki. I know you do too, but it’s not doing either
of us any good to fight over her.”

“I have noticed she’s not precisely flattered by the attention,” Fitzroy said.

“You can say that again.” Sighing, Mike forced out the words he’d come here to
say. “I’m sorry for what I said. You’ve helped her out and I appreciate that.”

Fitzroy raised an eyebrow. “I never expected you to say that.”

“Neither did I.”

Tilting his head, Fitzroy considered him. “I’m certainly willing to forgive and
forget if you are.”

“Good.” Mike began to stand up.

“However,” Fitzroy raised a hand, “I should note that there is another solution
to our dilemma.”

“Hmm?” Mike frowned at him.

“You’re correct that we’re both attracted to Victoria, but there is a solution.”
Mike’s hand twitched for the gun he wasn’t wearing. Fitzroy noticed and smiled
at him. “No, that wasn’t what I had in mind. Not that you haven’t tempted me to
kill you on a few occasions.”

“What *are* you thinking, then?”

“We could share her.”

Mike snorted in laughter. “What, like I get Monday, Wednesday, Friday and you
get Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday? Or maybe I get days and you get nights? Even if
she’d agree to that, it’s ridiculous.”

“No, that wasn’t what I had in mind.” Fitzroy leaned forward, eyes darkening.

Mike’s breath caught in his throat and he instinctively leaned back in the
chair. “Uh…I don’t…you’re not exactly my type.”

Still intent, Fitzroy smiled slowly. “That’s what I thought you would say.”

Mike decided he knew how that proverbial deer in headlights felt, as he froze,
unsure which way to run.

“I could make you do it, you know. I could make love to you right here and now.
And you’d enjoy yourself.” Fitzroy’s voice was smooth and low. “I have the power
and your mind is not nearly as strong as Victoria’s.”

It was hard to catch his breath. “Why don’t you?”

Fitzroy smiled and leaned back against the couch, eyes and voice returning to
normal. “Two reasons. One, whatever you may think, my partners have all been
willing for over 250 years, and two, Victoria wouldn’t like it.”

With great effort, Mike kept his voice calm. “And you care that much what she
thinks?”

“To my great surprise, yes, I do.” Fitzroy stood in a smooth motion and Mike
scrambled to his feet. “And you do as well, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Mike took a step toward the door. Not retreating. Absolutely not. “She was my
partner and friend before she met you.”

“True.” Fitzroy inclined his head.

“Well, that’s what I came here to say,” Mike said, walking toward the door.

Without making a sound, Fitzroy stood beside him, hand on the doorknob. “Leaving
so soon?”

“Yes.” Mike held himself very still as Fitzroy moved into his personal space.

Fitzroy smiled, as if at a private joke. “Then go.” He stepped back and waved
his hand grandly at the door.

Mike swallowed. And left.

* * * * *

His mind still a little shell-shocked and unsure what had just happened, he
found himself at Vicki’s door. It wasn’t the first time he’d wandered over at an
odd time of night, so she didn’t look *too* surprised.

“What’s up? Something wrong?” she asked with a yawn, waving him to her beat-up
couch, a far cry from Fitzroy’s elegant suite of rooms.

“No.” He slumped down, unsure what to say to her.

“So? Spill it.” She propped her feet up on the coffee table.

“I just came from Henry Fitzroy’s place,” he blurted out.

Her feet thumped to the floor. “Oh god, not this again. You came over here at
this time of night to start up the ‘He’s a dangerous vampire’ crap? I can’t
*believe* you, Mike.”

“Wait!” He held up a hand. “I went over there to apologize to him.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows rose. “Good for you. What did Henry say?”

A deep breath. Two. “He propositioned me. Said we could share you.” He waited
for the explosion.

Shrugging, Vicki leaned back. “Yeah, but did he agree to stop fighting? ‘Cause
I’m getting tired of it.”

He stared at her. “Did you hear me?”

“Uh-huh. He thinks you’re hot. Big surprise. He’s not exactly alone in that, as
you well know.” Vicki covered a big yawn with her hand. “Sorry, I’m a little
short on sleep.”

Mike had no idea what to say, so he just sat there.

Vicki sighed. “He’s a vampire who’s descended from royalty and you’re freaked
out that he’s *bisexual*? You’ve got some bizarre priorities.”

Mike leaned back on the couch and decided he hated his life.

“Just tell me you didn’t say yes.”

“What?” He bolted upright.

“Because if anyone’s going to share me, it’s going to be *my* decision.”

She grinned at him and he tried to decide if she was joking.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Vicki’s not exactly a typical girl. That’s okay, though, because
Henry’s not a typical guy.

“You’re kidding, right?” Vicki stared at Henry with dismay. “There’s *got* to be
another way to get this info. Coreen swears everything is on the Net now.”

Henry’s lips tightened in a familiar look of frustration with her. “I can assure
you that a New Year’s ball is not my idea of fun either, but it will enable us
to see if Simon Carle is using magic to unduly influence people.”

“Then you go to the ball and I’ll wait outside.” Crossing her arms, she glared.

“This is *your* case, not mine.” Henry looked at her, doing that impassive ‘I’m
the cool vampire’ thing, then walked slowly around her in a circle. Vicki did
her best not to squirm. “You’re actually afraid,” he said. “I didn’t think that
was possible.”

“I’m not afraid. I just don’t like…” She waved her hands, trying to articulate
the utter horror that dressing up and cosmetics and hors d’oeuvres caused in
her.

Henry smiled happily. “That makes this a challenge.”

Vicki gave up her pretense of bravery and backed away. Unfortunately, she wasn’t
quick enough.

* * * * *

Three hours later, she stood in front of a set of mirrors while Henry prowled
around her. Now, instead of studying her face, he was looking at her body,
encased in something green. She was sure that most women would know all kinds of
words to describe it, but all she could come up with was green. It was a
green…dress. Thing.

At least Henry had been sensible enough to avoid any lacy frilly crap. But
still…

“I feel like an idiot,” Vicki said.

Henry looked up from examining the hemline and Vicki caught her breath at his
expression, which was one step away from vampire. “You don’t look foolish at
all.”

Vicki opened her mouth, certain she should say something, but when she realized
she had no idea what, she closed it again.

Henry went back to dressing her like a doll and she scowled fiercely at his
goddamn handsome profile.

* * * * *

“Stop tugging at the waistline,” Henry said softly as they strolled toward the
doors. “It fits beautifully.”

“It feels tight.”

Henry was obviously suppressing a grin. “That’s the point.”

“I hate you,” Vicki said as they reached their destination.

The ballroom was already full when they entered, and Vicki automatically scanned
the room for dangers.

“Try for a moment,” Henry said with a sigh, “to act like the escort of a famous
writer of graphic novels rather than like a cop.”

“I can’t help it,” Vicki said as a waitress in an extremely abbreviated skirt
offered her a glass of champagne. Vicki waved her away, but Henry snatched one
before the tray escaped. “What happened to ‘I don’t drink…wine.’?”

“You’re taking your cues from the movies again.” Henry sipped the champagne. “I
can’t get drunk, but I can enjoy the flavor.”

Something about the crowd nagged at Vicki’s mind as she looked for their target.
“Hey, why are all the women dressed in black or gray, but I’m in green?”

“Because you’d look dreadful in black,” Henry said absently as he smiled
politely at a young blonde who looked like she had more makeup than sense and
more genuinely at an older man who saluted him with his champagne glass.

“But I’m almost the only woman wearing a color in the whole room. I stand out!”

Turning to look incredulously at her, Henry said, “*Now* you’re worried about
being fashionable?”

“No, I just don’t think I should stand out when we’re here working.”

Henry shook his head. “You’re with me. You would stand out in any case, so why
not showcase you to your advantage? Besides the current fashion for black is
ridiculous.”

About to make a comment about the size of his ego, Vicki realized that nearly
every woman (and a large percentage of men) in their vicinity were eyeing Henry
like he was a particularly choice dish. “Ah.”

“There are many reasons I don’t attend these parties. I prefer the more…honest
atmosphere of the bars and clubs.”

“Where you’re the hunter, not the prey.”

He grinned. “That too.”

“So, have you seen–”

“Carle is behind you and to the right, approximately 50 feet away. He’s wearing
an ill-fitting tuxedo and chatting with a young lady who looks entirely
enraptured.”

Vicki closed her mouth on an annoyed comment. “Well, I’m going to go put a stop
to that.”

Henry grabbed her arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re here to observe him, not get
ourselves thrown out.”

“I don’t intend to stay any longer than I have to, but if he’s already selected
a victim, then let’s go get him.”

Henry’s hand tightened painfully on her arm and he scowled. “You may very well
be the most exasperating woman it has ever been my pleasure to escort. How can
you be so intelligent one moment and so *stupid* the next?”

“Oh you flatterer you.” Vicki rolled her eyes.

“I mean it. Aren’t you the one who told me we needed *evidence*? I was ready to
simply kill him and be done with it.”

An elegant arm covered in expensive bangles insinuated itself between them and
dragged Henry away. “Darling,” the owner of the arm said, “you’re always such a
kidder. Which of your characters are you killing today?”

“Ah, Emerald,” Henry said, giving Vicki a look that said to stay put. “It’s
always a pleasure to see you.”

Vicki smiled her most dangerous smile. “While you’re catching up with your
friend, I’ll just go mingle.”

As she slid away through the crowd, she could hear Emerald say “Who was *that*,
Henry?”

Nobody, Vicki thought with venom. I’m nobody.

She moved as fast as she could without stepping on anyone’s toes. She knew Henry
couldn’t use his uncanny speed in this crowd, so she had a few moment’s
advantage and she intended to use it while he was delayed with *Emerald*.

This is what happens, she thought, when you start depending on someone else to
help: You get sloppy. Get in there, catch the perp, find the evidence when
you’re sure nobody else will get hurt. She’d saved a lot of lives following
those simple rules and there was no reason to stop now.

There he was. Vicki hated her glasses, but at least they helped her find the
perp now. And…damn it, he was on his way out of the room with a tall brunette
wearing enough diamonds that she glittered painfully in brightly lit room.
Nobody else seemed to notice them, but his spell wouldn’t work on her, Henry s–
it wouldn’t work on her.

What the heck was he doing? Had he gotten so overconfident?

Vicki cursed under her breath as she tried to work her way around a knot of
laughing socialite whose platinum blonde highlights probably cost more than her
monthly office rent.

“Pardon me,” one said as Vicki elbowed her aside.

“Uh-huh,” Vicki said. “‘Scuse me.”

Through that door, that’s where he’d gone. Finally through the crowd, Vicki
almost broke into a run, ignoring the strange looks from around her as she burst
through the door.

“Certainly,” the brunette was saying, taking off her choker filled with
diamonds. “If you really want it, of course I’ll give it to you.” Her eyes
looked almost drugged.

Carle turned to stare at Vicki. “You want to leave now,” he said, his voice
faintly hypnotic.

Shaking her head, Vicki stepped forward. “Like hell I do. Give those diamonds
back, *now*.”

He frowned. “Listen to me,” he said, focusing on her. “You don’t see anything
happening here.”

Vicki’s vision went red and she took another step forward, punching Carle square
in the face. He went down with an audible thump and the brunette, who’d been
staring off into space, seemed to awaken.

“What…what’s going on?” she asked, looking around.

Vicki blinked. “That man was stealing your diamonds,” she said simply, pointing
to Carle. “I hit him.”

“How did you know?” She was still dazed, still suggestible.

“I heard you scream, of course,” Vicki said carefully, just as the door burst
open, revealing an angry Henry Fitzroy. “There you are, Henry. I’m glad you
heard this woman scream too and came to help.”

He still looked pissed, but he knew a cue when he heard one. “Indeed. I’m very
glad we were able to help you.”

“Yes,” the brunette said, “I did scream, didn’t I?” Her voice got stronger.
“That man is holding some of my jewelry! How dare he? Call the police!”

“Certainly,” Henry said. His look at Vicki promised a talk later.

* * * * *

While they were waiting for the police and various men stood guard over the
unconscious Carle, trying to look tough, Henry dragged Vicki aside. “What was
that about?”

“That was me solving the case in the most direct fashion. Seems pretty obvious
to me.”

“You know what I mean.” His teeth sounded like they were grinding together.
“What do you mean by taking off without me? I thought the idea was that we would
work *together*.”

“I didn’t need you tonight,” she said.

“Oh lovely.” He threw his hands in the air. “You’ll call me when you need me,
then? What if I’d been wrong about his spells not working on you?”

Vicki took a deep breath, knowing he was right. She *had* brought him into this
to begin with. “I’m sorry, Henry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have taken off like
that.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. “Ah. Well, then that’s that.”

“Right.” She turned as two detectives she didn’t know strode into the room,
obvious in their off-the-rack overcoats. Vicki crossed her arms, suddenly
feeling ridiculous in this skintight green thing Henry had bought for her.

“And who are you?” the detective said with a frown as he sorted out spectators
from participants.

“Vicki Nelson. I called you in. I witnessed the theft personally.” Good *god*,
had cops gotten slower or was she getting more impatient?

“Nelson?” his partner asked. “You used to be a cop, didn’t you? Worked with Mike
Celluci.”

“That’s me. I worked with good ol’ Mike. Now can we get on with this?” She shot
a glance at the unconscious crook, worrying he’d wake up before they could get a
witch near enough him to break his charms. If he talked his way out of this, she
was going to be mad enough to chew *bullets.*

“How’d a former cop get into this affair?” the first detective asked he was
getting out his notebook.

“I came with him,” she said, pointing at Henry. “Henry Fitzroy. He draws comic
books.”

“Graphic novels,” Henry muttered under his breath as he smiled pleasantly at the
detectives.

“Same difference,” she said. “The guys at the comic book store said so.”

“You’re Henry Fitzroy?” the second detective asked. “My kid in college says your
stuff’s the best. I dunno about that, but he thinks you’re pretty cool.”

“Thank you,” Henry said, bowing slightly. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

Vicki rolled her eyes and tried to avoid tapping her toes.

* * * * *

Thankfully, Caroline, the witch they’d found to break the spells, was lurking
around outside when they cops finally towed the Carle away. Vicki delayed the
cops by tripping and almost falling, forcing them to stop for a few moments.
While their heads were turned, Caroline tossed a handful of powder in the
direction of Carle, which briefly fluoresced in the moonlight. She gave Vicki
and Henry a thumbs up and melted back into the gawking crowd.

Within moments, the cops pulled away with their perp stowed away, and Vicki took
a deep breath, stomping away from the crowd.

“Vicki!” Henry called.

“What?” She kept going until she found a path that led around the back of the
mansion, toward the gardens.

“Is there something that needs doing back here?”

“No.”

In the blink of an eye, Henry stood in front of her, studying her with concern.
“You’re actually pouting!” He looked more startled than she’d ever seen him,
*including* the time a ghost had walked right through him.

“I’m not!” She resisted the childish urge to stamp her feet. “I don’t *pout*. I
scowl. I smile. I glare. I smack people around. I do *not* pout.”

Henry stepped forward and took her chin in his hand, thumb stroking her cheek.
“Whatever you say. Why are you…not pouting? This seems to be a most
satisfactory outcome to the case, since you’ve ‘collared’ the suspect without
having to describe any supernatural occurrences to your former colleagues.”

“Yeah, great.” Avoiding his eyes, she remembered the amused look in the cops’
eyes when they realized who she was and where she was. At least Celluci hadn’t
been there. He’d have laughed his ass off and never let her forget it.

Henry sighed and turned her head so she was looking at him. “What’s wrong? It
seems I won’t have any peace until I figure that out.”

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s wonderful. Why don’t you go back to Emerald now?”

Henry continued to stroke her cheek, rather as if calming a dog.
“You’re…jealous of Emerald? She’s n–”

“God no, I’m not jealous of her. If she has three brain cells to rub together,
I’d be surprised. Not your type at all.”

Henry’s brow was knit and Vicki absently noted that he was even more adorable
when he was confused. “Then the problem is…?”

Vicki pulled away from him, stomping off to lean against a railing and stare at
the manicured grounds, plucking at the silky material of her dress. “I don’t
belong here. You’re an artist. You’re gorgeous and polished. You’re *royalty*.”

“Dead royalty,” Henry said, coming to lean next to her.

“Ha ha, very funny. You know what I mean.”

Henry sighed quietly. “I must admit that I never expected to hear you admit to
being inferior to anyone.”

“I never said that.” She glared at him, before transferring her glare to a
particularly ridiculous-looking topiary giraffe. “I didn’t say I’m inferior to
anyone here. Just that I don’t belong in this crowd. I’m a cop, no matter what.
I belong someplace with beer and Chinese.”

Shaking his head, Henry chuckled. “That’s my Vicki.”

“I’m not your anything.”

“I wish you were.” The words were soft, the tone lacking any mockery.

She stared straight ahead.

“Vicki, please look at me.”

She turned her head and found his face nearly against her cheek. “Henry?”

“I don’t belong here either. Remember, I said that earlier. I may be able to fit
in temporarily, but this is not my milieu any more than it is yours. And there
is no-one in that room who could hold a candle to you.”

“That’s rid–”

“You wear that dress just as you do your ordinary clothes: Like battle armor.
You’re filled with an inner fire that those people can only dream of, which
lights up the space around you. You’re irresistible.”

“Henry, I–”

“Shhh.” He touched a finger to her lips and the warmth spread to her cheeks.
“Let me finish. You may not think you belong here, but you could *own* that room
if you needed to. Besides,” and his eyes darkened, “I love the way you look in
that dress.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.” Her chest felt tight.

“Say you’ll let me see how you look *out* of that dress.” His mischievous grin
was back.

She grinned back at him. “We’ll see about that, buster.”

“As long as you don’t rule it out.”

“No,” she said slowly, “I haven’t ruled it out.”

He took her hand, drawing her away from the railing. “Then let’s go find
someplace with beer and Chinese.”

“In these clothes?” She looked down. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe.” He laughed. “But it’s a pleasant madness.”

Shaking her head, she followed Henry to his car.

–end–

by Mara

After Mike’s betrayal, what will Vicki and Henry do? (Sequel to “An Immodest Proposal”

Author’s Chapter Notes:

I’m not entirely sure why, but I feel like I should blame this on Cereta. ::coughs:: And I *definitely* blame the story that comes after this one on her…

Continuity: Set after “Heart of Ice” and “Heart of Fire,” which take place some weeks after my fic “An Immodest Proposal.” (I recommend you read that fic first, or the ending won’t make sense.) This story does not take into account any episodes after “Heart of Fire.”

Leaving the church felt like being reborn. The air seemed a thousand times fresher, even with Toronto’s pollution, and Mike found himself gasping in air like he’d been deprived.

He stumbled toward his car, clutching Henry’s shoulder to stay upright and trying not to laugh at the irony. Vicki caught up with them as they reached the car and she shoved Mike into the backseat and dug his first aid kit out from under the seat.

Mike clumsily tossed Henry the car keys and gritted his teeth when the motion jarred his neck. Leaning his head against the headrest, he gritted his teeth harder as Vicki cleaned the punctures on his neck and slapped a bandage on them.

Henry’s driving bordered on the manic, and Mike guessed they were getting pretty close to dawn at this point.

The car slipped into a spot a block away from the penthouse and Henry turned around. “Come upstairs and let me check your injury. I’m not sure you’re safe to drive.”

Before Mike could answer, Vicki pulled him out of the car. He couldn’t work up the energy to protest, just took off his coat and handed it to the half-naked Henry, who helped drag him inside.

They made their way up past the doorman…who’d lately become inured to the sight of his penthouse tenant looking like he’d been in a bar fight. Within moments, they were inside and Vicki and Henry sat Mike down in a chair.

He sat there with his eyes closed while Henry pulled up the bandage and they both inspected his injury. When it was back on his neck, Mike said, “I’m fine. I’m going.” With a stifled groan, he stood up and turned.

“Wait,” Henry said.

Mike froze, staring at a chip in the fancy paint job on the door.

“You’re just going to leave like that? Say something,” Vicki said.

Clenching his fists, Mike turned. “What? What am I supposed to say? ‘Gee, sorry I nearly got you both killed.’ How about ‘Sorry I accused you of killing all those women when it turned out the guy I trusted had killed them.’”

Henry’s face was impassive and that made Mike angrier. “I screwed up and I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will help. So…” He looked at Vicki standing next to Henry and wondered if they could hear his splintering heart. “I’ll just go.”

He turned again.

“I forgive you,” Henry said quietly.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.”

Mike heard a familiar snort of disbelief from behind him. “You *forgive* him?” Vicki asked. “I can’t believe you. Is this some stupid male honor thing?”

“No.”

Mike couldn’t help it, and he turned around to find Vicki staring at Henry and Henry staring at him.

“Why, then?” Vicki asked. “I trusted him and he turned you over to a killer!”

Henry shook his head. “No. I knew Javier Mendoza. Detective Celluci turned me over to a man who promised that doing so would protect *you*, Vicki.”

“That’s a load of–”

“Vicki.” Henry’s head snapped around to stare at her and she closed her mouth. “I forgive him because in the same circumstances, I might have done the same thing.”

Mike closed his eyes and listened to his own ragged breathing. “I’m leaving. I…I *am* sorry.”

Without giving either of them a chance to respond, he grabbed his coat off a chair, yanked open the door, and left.

As he strode out the front door of the posh apartment building, the first rays of sunlight were just peeking over the Toronto skyline. Pausing, Mike looked up at the penthouse and its closed shutters.

* * * * *

By the time he’d reached his apartment, Mike was totally numb. He headed straight for the liquor cabinet, rummaging around to see what would get him drunk quickest. Hell, he thought, grabbing the phone and dialing the precinct, he had to call in sick anyway, since he didn’t really want to explain vampire bites on his neck. One hand crept up to touch them, still a little disbelieving.

The feeding had been…Mike closed his eyes, trying to blot out the memory. Yes, there had been pain, but nobody told him…well, it explained why vampires were able to drain people dry.

Rubbing his forehead, Mike admitted to himself that if Henry hadn’t stopped, he wouldn’t have been able to stop him. Might not have wanted to stop him.

Pouring himself a large glass of whiskey, he sat in the old beat-up recliner that had survived three moves and five girlfriends. Hell, Vicki was the only one who’d appreciated the thing and they’d–

Best not to think about that.

Mike took a long drink, letting the burn wash away the taste of the air in that church, the smell of blood and fear, the shame of knowing he’d nearly gotten all of them killed.

Hell of a time for him to start being taken in by a smooth talker, huh? Mike snorted and took another drink. He’d fallen for Mendoza hook, line, and sinker, just because Mendoza had told him what he wanted to hear.

Shit, if he couldn’t tell a liar from an honest man or vampire, maybe he should just turn in his badge.

Another belt of whiskey and the warmth grew in his stomach, chasing away the cold he’d felt ever since that moment in the sewer when he realized he’d made a big mistake. When he realized Mendoza wasn’t at all worried about Vicki and he sure as hell looked like he was ready to kill Henry.

Henry hadn’t looked all that healthy, even in his apartment, Mike thought through the haze. Would he need more blood when he woke up? How did the whole thing work anyway? It’s not as if he’d ever bothered to ask. He’d just assumed, all because he was jealous of Henry.

Vicki would take care of Henry, though, Mike decided. Like she used to take care of him when he got hurt. If only he hadn’t…he’d had the chance to get her back. He could have…

The room spun and Mike leaned his head back against the battered leather, closing his eyes. For just a min…

* * * * *

The first knock on the door woke Mike out of a sound sleep and when he lifted his head he groaned. Damn, he was getting too old to sleep in a chair.

The second knock made him glare at the door, wishing a speedy death for whoever was there.

The third knock was closely followed by the fourth, fifth, and sixth, so Mike levered himself out of the chair and staggered to the door, fighting lightheadedness.

When he wrenched open the door, Henry frowned, looking him up and down. “You look terrible.”

Mike wanted to say something sarcastic in response, but couldn’t find the energy. “What’re you doing here?”

Stepping in, Henry gave him a scornful glance. “Checking to make sure you’re alive.”

“You’re checking up on *me*?” Mike decided it was too early– “Wait, what time is it?”

“It’s 7:30 pm.” Henry’s glance took in the whiskey bottle and the glass by the chair. “You were drinking? You must be less intelligent than I thought.”

“What?” Mike’s head pounded like a jackhammer and he couldn’t think. “But it was just…it’s the next night?”

Henry shook his head. “You lost a great deal of blood. And then you drank whiskey. You’re lucky you woke up at all.” Henry took his wrist to check his pulse.

Mike pulled away and leaned against the wall, dizzy with the sudden sense memory of the feeding and the rush of blood to places other than his head. Damn it. “I’m alive. Go away.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He looked Mike up and down again. “You need to eat something. And take a shower. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to cook for me.”

“Not unless you like Bloody Marys.” Henry’s lips twitched at the look on Mike’s face. “That was a joke. Get clean and eat something and then I’ll leave.”

Mike started to argue, but decided there was a lot to be said for a shower and food. For a moment he had the oddest feeling that Henry was going to follow him into the bedroom, but when he turned, Henry was lounging on the couch, face unreadable.

Shaking his head, Mike went to get clean, hoping things would make more sense soon.

* * * * *

It took an effort to not shove the sandwich in his mouth, but something about the way Henry was watching him made him eat the roast beef as neatly as possible.

Mike hated to admit it, but he felt about a thousand times better when he was done. Without a word, Henry refilled his glass of water and handed it to him.

“So, why are you doing this?” Mike took a sip of water. “Don’t tell me it’s for Vicki.”

“I lied to Vicki.”

“What?”

Jaw tight, Henry stared into his eyes. “In the same circumstances, thinking what you did of me, I would have done *exactly* the same thing. I would do *anything* to protect Vicki, just as you would.”

Mike rubbed his face. “You should hate me,” he said.

“I understand you too well to hate you. I don’t think you understand me at all, however.”

Mike scowled and put down the glass. “What don’t I understand? You’re a vampire. Even if you’re not a stone cold killer, you still drink blood and cloud minds.” He knew it was stupid even as he said it, but something about Henry always made him act like a macho idiot.

Henry raised an eyebrow that said, clear as day, that he *also* thought it was a stupid thing to say. “You know *nothing* about my life since becoming a vampire. Reading up on my father does not make you an expert on 500 years of survival.”

“I didn’t say–”

Henry smacked his palm on the table and Mike felt the table shudder. “Mendoza tortured Delphine,” Henry said softly, each word clear and precise, bitten off as it were Mendoza’s neck. “At the end, even as he forced her to ‘confess,’ she asked for my forgiveness. Vicki says you saw her die. He killed in order to get to me. I will have to live with that for the rest of what I hope is a very very long life.”

There wasn’t anything to say to that.

Henry leaned forward. “Monsignor Mendoza killed his own lover, a beautiful young woman, full of mercy, when she became a vampire. I saw him put a stake through her heart.”

Mike closed his eyes.

“I’m no innocent, it’s true. And I have killed when it was necessary. But I’ve fought my baser urges, learned to control myself.”

Mike opened his eyes. “You killed Mendoza.”

“What choice was there?” Henry’s eyes darkened. “I needed the blood and it seemed fitting since he’d taken mine. Besides, were you going to arrest him?”

“I–” Mike stopped as he heard an echo of the argument he’d had with Mendoza.

“If you found a murderer in the process of killing his victim, would you stand aside?”

“Of course not. I’d catch him and put him on trial.”

“And if that was not an option? Would you kill him or let him go?”

“I’d…” Mike trailed off, seeing no way to win this.

“You see my point.”

“But it’s not the same thing! I’m a cop.”

“That path wasn’t open to me. Eventually, someone would want me to work days.” Henry shrugged.

“I don’t know how to deal with this,” Mike said.

Henry caught his gaze, his voice lowering again, his tone almost seductive. “Do you know what Mendoza did while he had me chained to that cross? He cut me over and over. Stuck a blowtorch to my skin. Drained my blood. And he whipped me.”

Mike sucked in a breath.

“Have you ever been whipped?” Henry didn’t wait for an answer. “The first blow falls and you think ‘This isn’t so bad.’ Then the second blow hits and it’s as if liquid fire is pouring across your body. No matter how tough you are, you always scream eventually. Scream until you’re hoarse.”

Mike couldn’t move, pinned in place by Henry’s eyes.

“And he starved me until the hunger had a life of its own, gnawing and snarling.” Henry’s fists clenched on the table edge so hard there was an ominous cracking sound. “I tried to resist the smell of blood when he brought Vicki, but I couldn’t.”

Henry paused, and what he was thinking, Mike couldn’t begin to guess.

“He turned me into an animal, Detective Celluci. And *that* was the worst thing of all.”

And with that, Henry turned away, and Mike took a deep breath, feeling as if he’d just survived a staredown with a lion.

“Vicki is afraid of me now,” Henry said. “She pretends everything is okay, but it’s a lie.”

Mike thought that that 48 hours ago he would have said something like ‘She should be afraid of you.’ “She’ll get over it,” he said instead. “She was worried about you.”

Henry glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile. “I was rather worried myself.”

“I never wanted him to kill you.” Mike thought how idiotic that sounded, but he couldn’t stop trying to explain. “He said he could help you.”

“And you believed him?” Henry’s eyebrows shot up as he turned.

“That’s what Vicki said. I can’t explain it. Except that I was jealous and stupid.” Which was possibly the worst apology and explanation *ever* in the history of the universe.

Henry leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I don’t think I’ve forgiven myself yet.”

Inclining his head, Henry didn’t say anything.

Mike did his best to not squirm under Henry’s considering gaze. “What?”

“I think you no longer look quite so close to death.” Henry pushed away from the counter. “And I have other things to do this evening. Take care of yourself, Detective, so that you can take care of Vicki.”

“Henry?” Mike surprised himself by calling him as he started to leave.

Henry turned, impassive.

“Call me Mike?”

A long moment of silence, then: “Good night, Mike.”

* * * * *

The next afternoon, Mike stood outside Vicki’s office building, pacing back and forth and staring at the door in the fading light. Every step he took jarred sore and aching muscles, but he couldn’t bring himself to head up the stairs and talk to her.

Just as he was about to give up and head home, the door opened and Coreen’s dark head stuck out, scowling at him. “Vicki says if you’re coming in, just do it already.”

Mike winced. “Uh–”

“Don’t say it,” Coreen said, putting up a hand. “I’m still mad at you.” And she turned, letting the door slam behind her.

“Right,” Mike said to the closed door. “That bodes well.” And with a deep breath, he went inside to beard the lioness in her den.

Peering around the corner, through the open office door, he saw Coreen sitting at her desk, surrounded by her usual pile of books. She glared at him, but waved at Vicki’s office.

Mike tried to look confident as he strode in, but he figured Vicki knew him too well to believe it for a minute. “Hey, Vic,” he said as she looked up from a pile of papers.

“Mike.” She waved at a chair and stared at him as he sat down.

“So…”

“So, how do we move on from here?” Vicki asked. “You said it, Mike. You screwed up big time. Really big. Life-threatening big.”

“Pointing out that I did it for your sake isn’t going to get me anywhere, is it?”

“Other than flat on your ass when I kick you out of my office? No, not really.” Her voice was flat, more sad than angry.

Mike would have argued if he hadn’t known that she had a better-than-even chance of making good on her threat. “Okay, so what *can* I do or say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Vic–”

“No, I really don’t.” She leaned back in her chair, twirling a pen in her fingers absently as she peered at him through her glasses. “I don’t know what could make this better.”

Mike took a breath. “Do you want me to go away? Leave you alone?”

She considered it for longer than was good for his heart. “No.” Shaking her head, she tossed the pen on the desk. “You’re still my friend, Mike, even if you’re not my partner any longer. I’m pissed as hell, I won’t say I’m not…but I don’t want you to go.”

They sat in silence for a while. “We worked well together, didn’t we?”

She smiled slightly. “Yeah, we did.”

“Want some Chinese?” he asked after another silence.

Vicki paused, then shook her head. “Not tonight.”

“Oh. Right.” Mike stood. “I’ll just head home then. Back to work tomorrow.”

“Mike.”

He stopped babbling. “Yeah?”

“Soon, okay? We’ll have dinner soon.”

“Great.” He nodded. “That’d be great.”

“G’night, then.”

“Night.” Sticking his hands in his pockets, he headed out, wincing again at the almost visible chill from Coreen’s desk.

It was full dark when he stepped outside the office and he glanced up at the sky.

“What did she say?” a voice said from behind him.

Mike jumped, muttering a curse. “Don’t *do* that,” he said as Henry shifted in the shadows enough to be visible.

Henry didn’t apologize, just waited.

“I don’t know. I guess she’ll forgive me eventually. She doesn’t hate me. That’s something, right?”

“Of course Vicki doesn’t hate you.” Henry frowned. “In that church, when both of us were injured and weak from blood loss, it was you she went to, you she cried out for, and you whose head she held.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“I’ve had a few centuries to practice noticing these things.”

Mike looked up at Vicki’s office, where he could see her shadow on the wall as she moved around.

“I confessed,” Henry said.

“What?” Mike had visions of arrest warrants and handcuffs.

“When Mendoza trapped Vicki. I confessed to whatever he wanted in order to save her life. I love her.”

“So do I.” Mike had no idea why he was admitting this to Henry, when he’d never said the words to Vicki herself. “I’ve loved her since the first year she was my partner on the force.”

“I’m not leaving,” Henry said.

“Neither am I.”

“Then either Vicki will have to choose, or…”

“Or what?” Mike said when Henry didn’t finish the sentence.

“Or you’ll agree to my previous proposal.” Henry’s grin was a flash of white in the dark and then he was gone.

Mike sagged back against the wall of the building and wondered if he was insane or if the vampire was.

He decided that simply asking a question like that probably meant the answer was that *he* was insane. Then he decided the smartest thing to do was to go home and get some sleep.

“Maybe it’ll all make more sense in the morning,” he said. “Although I’m not betting on it.”

But his heart felt oddly lighter as he walked down the street to his car.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Henry’s art brings back a few memories. Sequel to “From All His Iniquities.”

Author’s Chapter Notes:

Just a little idea that came to me last night.

Continuity: Takes place a few weeks after “From All His Iniquity.”

Henry gave Mike a lingering kiss as he came through the penthouse door, then drew back, waving at his drawing table. “Unfortunately, I have work to do before any *further* distractions arrive. Make yourself at home.”

Tossing his coat across a chair, Mike wandered around, finally ending up at the table of completed pages. His eye was drawn immediately to one sitting in the center and he hissed in a breath. “Jesus, Henry,” he said, taking a startled step backward.

Henry’s head came up from his work, but he didn’t turn around. “Ah. You’ve seen it.”

“I could hardly miss it,” Mike said, staring (from a safe distance) at the stark page on which Henry’s hero hung chained to a cross, whip marks bloody across his chest. “What the hell…?”

After a pause, Henry turned, face under control. “Have you ever done any writing or drawing?”

“The closest I come to fiction is the case reports that involve you and Vicki.”

Henry ignored the attempt at humor. “There’s an old piece of advice for writers: Write what you know.”

Mike looked back at the drawing, the way the man’s bare shoulders slumped helplessly, defeat evident in every line. “I’m not sure this is what they had in mind.”

Henry chuckled, although it was almost entirely devoid of amusement. “But those things we feel strongest about make the best art, don’t you think?”

Mike took another step back. “It’s…”

“It’s the truth. It’s truth as I saw it, as I lived it.”

Mike noticed that Henry couldn’t seem to look at the page. “Don’t you want to forget it? Why bring it back?”

Pausing, Henry turned away and walked to the window. “It was never gone.” For just a moment, his shoulders slumped in exactly the same way as the drawing. “Call it an exorcism,” he said, leaning on the windowsill.

“Do you feel better having drawn it?” Mike came to stand beside him.

“Not particularly,” Henry said with a shrug. “Sometimes it works, other times it doesn’t.” He walked back toward the drawing table.

Although he didn’t want to, Mike looked at the drawing again. He’d been so focused on the hero that he hadn’t seen the heroine lying on the ground off to the side, blood streaming from her neck. “Is she dead?” he asked softly.

“No.” Henry didn’t look up, but his pen was still. “I can’t do that in the book or my editor would stake me to a cross himself.”

“You never bit Vicki, you know.”

“But I frightened her. And I nearly drained *you*.” Henry’s head was still down. “If Vicki hadn’t called my name, I might have. It’s…happened before when I was starved.”

The small scar on Mike’s neck throbbed, but he ignored it. “Maybe I deserved it.”

Henry was in front of him before the last word was complete, cupping his jaw in both hands. “No,” he said fiercely. “Never say that.”

Mike closed his eyes. “Okay, so maybe I’m not quite over it either.”

“One thing I’ve learned in 500 years is that these things take time. More time than you expect. And the memories will overtake you just when you least expect it.” Henry caressed his cheek, then stepped back.

Mike watched him as he went back to the drawing table. “I–”

“Don’t say you’re sorry again.”

Mike grinned at Henry’s back. “I was going to suggest that sex can help you forget things.”

Henry peered over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded. “Occasionally you have excellent ideas.”

* * * * *

When Vicki came in ten minutes later, she found the two of them draped across the couch. “Starting without me, hmm?”

Henry smiled up at her from his position under Mike. “Just exorcising a few demons.”

Shrugging off her coat, Vicki laughed. “Is *that* what you call it now?”

“Something like that.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Mike does handyman therapy. Vicki and Henry wonder if he needs the old-fashioned kind. Sequel to “Heal But By Degrees.”

Author’s Chapter Notes:

This is *so* Cereta’s fault, since part of the idea was hers. Someday I’ll learn not to read Grading Hell Theater when I’m supposed to be working. ::sigh::

Continuity: Some indeterminate time after my fic “Heal But By Degrees.”

There was something deeply satisfying about spackling small holes in drywall, Mike thought as he carefully scraped away the excess. Nodding, he decided it was as flat as it was going to get without sanding, and moved on to a dent he’d noticed a few feet away, one that looked like it could also be solved with spackle.

Matching the paint would require some work, but he was sure it was doable. He was fairly sure he could find a beige paint just a bit darker and lighten it to the right color.

When the holes were spackled, he could move on to that drip in the sink, the kind of task that was too small to ever get a repairman in to fix. Mike hoped he had a seat wrench somewhere in his car, since he was sure Henry didn’t have one anywhere in the penthouse.

It was nice to do something that wasn’t life or death for once, Mike mused, pulling a little more spackle out of the can and inspecting it to make sure it wasn’t drying too quickly. Nice to have a tangible result too.

Mike sighed, wishing he could do something about that mitred molding that should have been coped, but that would have required a lot of time and tools that would wake up Vicki, sleeping in the bedroom. And he didn’t want to do that. If she woke up, she’d just ask–

“What are you doing?” Henry asked over his shoulder.

Mike sighed, annoyed he hadn’t even heard the front door open. “What does it look like?”

“It looks,” Henry said slowly, tilting his head to examine the wall, “as if you’re doing something that I pay the building maintenance fund many thousands of dollars to deal with.”

“Well, they haven’t dealt with it. Besides, building maintenance guys never do this kind of thing right. It’d be a crime to let them ruin these walls.”

“Then you can arrest them,” Henry said, plucking the can of spackle out of his hand. “Meanwhile–”

“Hey!” Mike grabbed the spackle back. “Working here. I don’t interrupt you when you’re drawing, so don’t interrupt me.”

“You’re…” Henry shook his head. “Fine. I’ll work and you can continue the menial chores.”

Mike glared at him as he walked away, then sighed. “Did you…?”

Henry slowed, but didn’t turn. “I’ve fed, yes.”

“Okay.” Mike turned back to the wall and took a steadying breath so he didn’t gouge the wall further in his attempts to create a flat surface.

Henry’s silence was full of meaning, but Mike chose to ignore it, and after a few minutes, he heard the tiny scratches of Henry hard at work at the table.

The silence eventually became relaxed again and they worked like that for half an hour, Mike scraping and filling and hand-sanding the high spots until he was satisfied that the walls were perfect again.

Finally he sat on the floor and looked at the walls, with their neat circles of white amid the beige, and felt a deep satisfaction. He realized that the scratching of Henry’s pen had stopped and glanced over his shoulder to find Henry looking at him. “What?”

“You really enjoyed that.”

Mike shrugged. “I used to do things like this for my mom after my dad died, but then she moved into assisted living.” He finished cleaning off the putty knife and put it down on the paper towels he’d been using to wipe up excess spackle.

Henry still watched him. “Fascinating,” he said. “This isn’t a side of you I’ve seen before.”

“What side?” Mike hadn’t meant to sound so combative.

Henry smirked. “Nesting. It’s rather cute.”

Standing, Mike put the spackle and putty knife by the door. “Forget it. I can’t talk to you when you’re in this mood.”

“That’s what I was going to say.” Henry leaned back in his seat.

“Children.” Vicki sighed from the doorway to the bedroom. “I can’t leave you two alone for a minute before you start bickering.”

“We’re not bickering!” Mike and Henry said at the same time.

“Uh-huh.” She yawned, rolling her neck until it cracked. “Henry, go back to work. The answering machine message from your editor sounded like he was coming for you with a stake. Mike, c’mere.”

“Hey!” Henry said.

“To talk,” Vicki said firmly.

Mike dragged his feet until he realized he *was* acting like a child, and he followed Vicki into the bedroom. She shut the door with a pointed glance at Henry that said, ‘I know you *can* listen, but don’t.’

Sinking down on the bed, Mike waited, staring down at the blue-gray sheets.

“So, what’s up? And don’t give me a smartass answer, or I’ll leave you to the tender mercies of the sarcastic vampire.”

“I’m fine.”

“Right.” Crossing her arms, Vicki leaned against the door. “Try that one on someone who wasn’t your partner for years. This,” she pointed at the door behind her, “is what you do when you’re freaked. You look jumpy enough to run, but since I think we’ve established that Henry and I won’t let you do that, why don’t we talk instead?”

“Vic…” He waved a helpless hand.

“Yeah yeah, you’re a guy, whatever. Let’s just assume we’ve already had that discussion and now you tell me what’s bugging you.” She pushed away from the door and sat down next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Automatically, Mike put an arm around her, relishing his ability to do it without her tensing up.

“What’s got you freaked?”

“I…” Words and thoughts that he’d been suppressing all evening churned in his mind. “It’s everything.”

Her sigh ghosted across his neck. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Jesus Christ, I don’t know. It’s like, one day I was a homicide cop trying to catch a killer and missing my old partner and now…” He looked helplessly around the room, with its large bed, soft sheets, and mood lighting.

“At least you’re still a cop.” The words were quiet and spoken into his shoulder, but he still heard them.

Mike squeezed her tight, then let go so he could look her in the eyes. “I don’t know if I can handle this.”

Her jaw clenched. “Mike–”

“How am I supposed to deal with this life? I’m just an ordinary guy. It’s not like I have a precedent. ‘Oh I know, it’s just like Mr. and Mrs. Johnson and their vampire lover, who lived down the street when I was growing up.’”

Vicki snickered.

“It’s not funny.”

She sobered. “I know, but I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s just…you’re asking me to deal with a lot here. First there’s the matter of the woman I love hanging out with a vampire. Oh, and by the way, we’d like you to join us in bed. But you know, every couple of days he’s going to go off and neck–if you’ll excuse the pun–with someone else in a club.”

Vicki was totally serious as she looked up at him. “I love you too.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, that’s not how I meant to say that.”

“I know.” She patted his arm. “But getting back to the point…are you telling me you’re jealous because Henry is getting blood someplace else?”

He threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know. I told you I have no idea how to deal with this.”

“He may use sexual attraction, but he’s only sleeping with us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” It was the same tone she’d used when he asked if she was sure Henry wasn’t killing women.

“Okay, but…”

“But what?”

“I have no idea.” He stared down at his hands, picking at a bit of spackle on his thumb. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know what I want.”

Vicki took his hand and tugged him forward until she could kiss him gently on the mouth. “Let us know when you figure that out.”

And she stood and left the bedroom. Mike wanted to call out after her, but he didn’t know what to say, so instead he watched her close the door behind her.

Then he put his head in his hands and waited for the shaking to stop.

* * * * *

Mike lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a while, trying to decide what to do. He did need to get some sleep at some point, if he wasn’t going to fall asleep at his desk. Maybe he should just head back to his apartment for the rest of the night.

Of course, Henry would probably point out that he was taking the coward’s way out of this. But to hell with that…Henry could get whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. And he had Vicki.

With a groan, Mike sat up, but before he could get off the bed, the doors opened and Vicki and Henry came to sit on either side of him. “Going somewhere?” Henry asked.

“I was–”

“Don’t tease him,” Vicki said, leaning across to swat Henry on the chest. “Mike, didn’t I just say we weren’t going to let you run? Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?”

“What?” Henry and Mike responded instantly. Mike grinned at Henry before he remembered that he was supposed to be freaking out.

Henry sobered as well, looking Mike in the eye. “I’m sorry I didn’t thank you for your care of my home. That was inexcusably rude. As Vicki pointed out to me. At length.”

“That’s okay.” Mike shrugged. “I just…needed something to do, and fixing things always helps me.”

“Helps you what?” Henry asked, sounding honestly curious.

“Relax.” Mike avoided his eyes.

After a moment, Henry spoke slowly. “You were worrying about me.”

Mike shrugged again, feeling utterly ridiculous.

Vicki leaned against his shoulder. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You *weren’t* worrying that he was feeding on someone else.”

“Well, maybe a little,” Mike mumbled, feeling something beyond ridiculous that he didn’t have a word for.

Henry let out a breath. “Worrying about my safety is rather romantic of you. I think I’ll choose to be flattered rather than offended that you’ve forgotten what I am.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten at all.” Mike looked up, not turning at Vicki’s intake of breath. “How could I?”

Henry nodded, watching him. “I see.” And he actually did seem to understand, which was unexpected.

Vicki turned her head back and forth, looking at both of them, obviously hoping for an explanation. “Okay…”

Mike looked for words to explain it to her. “I need…to feel needed.”

She tensed up. “This better not be some macho thing where you want me to be a helpless female.”

Henry twitched and Mike’s thought processes came to a sputtering halt as he tried to imagine Vicki as a helpless female. “Uh, no. That’s definitely not what I meant.” Shaking his head, he tried to remember what he was going to say. “I mean that I need to feel like I’ve got a purpose here. In this…” he waved his hand, “whatever we have.”

“Some people might say relationship,” Henry said.

“Is that what this is?” Mike looked him in the eye.

“I don’t know. Several hundred years of practice hasn’t made this kind of thing any less confusing.” Henry held his gaze.

“Great. That’s encouraging,” Vicki said with a sigh, swatting both of them. “Now, if you’re done with the staring contest, can we go back to the part where you’ve figured out that it’s okay to deal with a little uncertainty while having really great sex?”

Mike’s brain was well and truly derailed and Henry was in no better shape, if the way he was breathing against Mike’s neck was any indication. Taking a deep breath, Mike marshaled his scattered mind. “I can’t help worrying. That’s who I am.”

“We know,” Henry said softly.

“And this is still weird.”

“Mm-hmm,” Vicki said, running her hand under his shirt.

“We can’t solve *everything* with sex, you know.” Mike did his best to not gasp as Henry’s hand moved down his stomach.

“Of course not,” Henry said, pushing Mike back on the bed.

* * * * *

Tempting as it was to stay in bed, where everything was simpler, Mike and Vicki both had to work, and they left shortly after dawn, when Henry slept. Vicki gave Mike a kiss on the cheek as he dropped her off at her office. “We’re good?” she asked.

“We’re good.” He stifled a yawn. “Take care.”

“See you tonight?”

“Depends on work,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll let you know.”

In fact, both he and Vicki were hit by cases that kept them almost continuously busy, and it was 72 hours before Mike found himself parking a few blocks from Henry’s building again.

The sun had set a few hours before, and Mike was tired, sore from chasing a suspect through back alleys, and ready to relax.

When he opened the door, Henry had a light pointed directly at one wall. He turned. “There you are. Come take a look.” He held up a small pile of paper.

Grinning, Mike held up a matching stack of paint samples. “I should have known you wouldn’t let me pick a color by myself.”

“Are you kidding?” Henry flicked a card at him. “A Neanderthal like you? This is a job for a real artist.”

“Really?” Mike looked around the room. “Too bad we don’t have one of those to help us.”

“Funny.”

“Hey, good thing Home Hardware has late hours. Wouldn’t want you turning into dust for the sake of paint matching.”

“Well, I’m just glad they have all the colors laid out on a rack, because what if you’d had to *read* something?” Henry grinned.

Mike made a face at him, pulling a chair up close to the wall. “Hey, blood boy, just start picking a color.”

When Vicki came in an hour later, the floor was littered with shades of beige, and the two of them were waving paint chips at each other.

“Forget it,” Henry said, “by the time you’ve added enough cream to it, you might as well start with Antiquity.”

“Are you kidding? Sconce Gold is the only way to go. It’s too easy to go too far with the Antiquity and then you’ve got a wasted tin of paint.”

“You know,” she said, standing between them, “this is getting old pretty fast.”

“This is important,” Mike said, shaking his head. “Do it wrong and you ruin the wall.”

Vicki shook her head. “The lights are so dim that nobody will ever notice the difference. Besides, these days it’s usually only us.”

“That’s not the point,” Mike said, waving a paint chip at Vicki. “It’s a matter of principle.”

She turned to Henry. “What about you? Are you insane also?”

“You just don’t understand.”

Sighing, Vicki flopped down onto the couch. “Fine. I’ll just…sit here while you argue about paint.”

“Great,” Mike said absently, staring at the chip in his hand. “Hey!” He looked up. “I just realized something that will make this easier.”

“Hmm?” Henry asked.

“We don’t need to worry about how the touchup paint color looks in sunlight.” Mike grinned, ducking the hail of sofa cushions and paint chips.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: A missing scene from “Post Partum.”

Author’s Chapter Notes:Continuity: This is *not* connected to my OT3 series.

Coreen dropped her clanking load of iron into the backseat of Mike’s car and slid into the front seat barely in time as he shot out of the police station parking lot, narrowly avoiding several cars trying to pull in. She looked like she was about to say something about that, but Mike suspected his expression was forbidding enough that she changed midstream.

“Henry’s going to meet us there,” she said.

“Hmmph.” Mike skidded around the corner, gripping the steering wheel so hard he thought he might be leaving fingerprints.

Slumping down in her seat, Coreen said, “What is it with you guys?”

Mike shook his head. “If you don’t know, I’m not going to explain.”

“No, I mean I know it’s all about Vicki and I’m totally down with the whole romantic aspect of the two of you both in love with her, but it’s getting old.”

“Sorry.”

“Uh-huh.” She blithely ignored his tone. “I can’t believe Vicki’s held out this long, anyway. Henry’s got the whole powerful creature of the night–”

“Coreen.” They screamed through a yellow light as it turned red.

“Uh…” She looked at him. “Right. Shutting up now.”

* * * * *

Tires squealed as Mike parked the car in the shady alcove a few blocks from the clinic that he and Vicki had staked out as the best hiding spot for surveillance purposes. His mind churned with all the things that could be going wrong inside the clinic right now and his stomach was a ball of fear. Damn it, he should have made her leave. If they’d laid a single hand on her…

As he opened the car door, Henry materialized out of the shadows, face tight with a fear and anger that matched his own. “No abnormal sounds. Women talking, some banging that could be anything,” he said shortly.

“If Vicki were in immediate danger, she’d be making noise.”

“Agreed,” Henry said, with a twitch of a grin. “I’ll go find her.”

Coming around the front of the car, Mike lifted a tire iron out of Coreen’s bag. “No. You’re a civilian and I’m a cop. I’m going in.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Henry said, grabbing his arm. “The place is locked up tight. I run faster and I can go places you can’t.”

Mike jerked his arm away, knowing that Henry had let him go. “But I already know the building layout.”

“So tell me where she is. Besides, what are you going to do against ancient evil like a schwarzenelfen? Wave your badge and try to arrest it?”

“You planning to seduce it instead? Be my guest. I hear dark elves are *great* in bed.”

Coreen groaned. “Hey, we don’t have time for this! Vicki’s in there, remember?”

But I don’t want *him* to save Vicki, Mike thought. Then he felt like an idiot. Teeth grinding with the need to bash in every door until he found her, he said, “Her room is in the first floor, west wing, eighth in from the back of the building. There are sensors set at knee height sweeping out to twenty feet. Two guards, one back, one front, very inattentive.”

Henry looked him in the eye. “I’ll get her out.” And he was gone in a blink.

Raising the tire iron, Mike gave a practice swing and nodded, setting off for the clinic at a jog. “Stay there,” he said to Coreen. “If Vicki gets out herself, she might come here to look for me.”

“Where are you going?” Coreen called.

“To make sure they both get out of there safely. I *am* a cop, after all.”

Behind him, he could hear Coreen’s groan. “Men.”

* * * * *

When it was all over, Coreen dragged Vicki off to interrogate her about something, leaving Mike and Henry standing awkwardly on the front lawn. Henry looked like he wanted to stage a disappearing act but couldn’t quite manage it with so many ambulances and police cars.

Mike desperately wanted to disappear to, but there was something he had to do first. If he could manage it. There was a nasty taste in his mouth as he turned to Henry. “So.”

That got him an arrogant look. “So.” Henry crossed his arms.

Mike reminded himself it needed to be said. “I wanted to thank you. For going in to help Vicki.”

“She’s quite welcome,” Henry said with a grin.

Mike gritted his teeth and kept going. “I know Vicki’s not always grateful. But I’m…glad she has someone looking out for her.”

Henry considered him for a long moment. “Thank you for your assist in the hallway.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I still don’t like you,” Mike said.

“The feeling’s entirely mutual.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: “You’re not welcome here, Sinead,” Henry said, his voice all vampire. “Leave now.”

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
–Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet (1923)
Mike was loosening his tie, enjoying the excellent air conditioning in Henry’s building, when the woman appeared in the middle of the room.

“What the–” Mike said, jumping to his feet and staring at the beautiful dark-haired woman, who looked entirely amused by his reaction.

From Henry’s worktable, there came a low growl, and in an instant, Henry stood between Mike and the woman. “You’re not welcome here, Sinead,” Henry said, his voice all vampire. “Leave now.”

“Oh lover, we had such good times. Can’t we talk about it?” Her words were pleading, but her tone was anything but, containing arrogance strong enough to match Henry at his most royal.

“Out.”

“Well, you can’t say I didn’t give you a chance.” Sinead smiled and waved a hand at Henry, who stiffened like he’d hit a live wire.

“Henry?” Mike said.

Sinead crooked a hand. “Come here.”

For an instant he didn’t move, then he was by her side, entwined with her.

“Henry!”

But Henry didn’t seem to hear Mike, nuzzling Sinead’s neck with abandon. She sighed in pleasure, waving a hand at Mike as he took a step forward, and he found himself thrown against the front door.

“You may leave,” she said.

Pulling himself to his feet, Mike tried to step forward, but ran up against an invisible barrier.

“I said you may leave,” she said. “But this is your last chance.”

“This isn’t over,” Mike said, backing up to the door and opening it. As he stepped into the hallway, the door slammed shut behind him. “Fuck,” he said with great feeling, snatching his cell out of his pocket.

“Answer your phone,” he muttered as he jogged toward the steps, dialing Vicki’s cell.

* * * * *

Fortunately she did, and it only took a few sentences of explanation before she sucked in a breath. “This is bad. I’m on my way. Don’t do *anything* until I get there.”

“Vic–”

“Just wait there and make sure she doesn’t leave with him.”

The ten minutes pacing back and forth in front of the building were some of the longest of Mike’s life, up there with the time Vicki accidentally shot him. When she finally jumped out of the cab, the look on her face didn’t make him feel any better.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Let’s go. I don’t want to give that bitch one second longer with Henry than I have to.”

“Agreed.” Mike patted his hip, wishing desperately for his gun.

When they reached the penthouse door, both of them reached for a key ring, but Mike waved Vicki ahead. She slid the key in and the door literally spat it back out, nearly impaling both of them in the process.

“Oookay,” she said, turning to look at the key embedded a good inch into the opposite wall. “That’s unusual.”

“Kick it in?”

“Kick it in.”

It took Mike a few solid hits, but at this point they weren’t exactly going for subtlety anyway. Mike thanked heaven for shoddy workmanship as the door finally burst open with a resounding crash.

“Very impressive.” Sinead clapped her hands from her seat on the couch, where Henry lay across her lap. “I can see why he kept you around. I’m almost tempted to keep you for myself.”

“Hands off, Sinead,” Vicki said. “They’re mine.”

“No. *He’s* yours. Henry is mine, just as he was before.”

“Henry,” Mike said. “What’s going on?”

But Henry didn’t seem to notice them, just lay there looking half-asleep as Sinead stroked his hair.

“Henry? You need to fight this.” Vicki had that frenetic edge in her voice that meant she was worried.

Henry’s hand twitched once when Vicki spoke, but Sinead just smiled at them and Henry stopped moving.

“What’s going on? What did you do to him?” Mike asked. That got another hand twitch from Henry but nothing more.

“He’s mine. I told you. And I won’t tell you again. Now leave.”

Mike was about to say ‘Not without Henry’ when, to his shock, Vicki started backing away. “You just better hold on tight, because if you lose your grip on him…he’ll rip your throat out.”

Sinead’s smile dimmed just bit, but came back soon. “Soon enough he’ll understand that what I’m doing is for the best. You put him in great danger, but I’ll protect him.”

Vicki took Mike’s arm. “But…” he began.

The look she gave him said that he had to trust her. So he did, and they left Henry behind. As they passed through the doorway, the door repaired itself. Mike swallowed the shame of leaving twice.

“Damn,” Vicki said, smacking her hand on a wall. “He should be fighting it. We need to regroup.”

Mike wanted to argue, but Vicki knew the situation and he didn’t. Both of them cast concerned glances behind them as they headed toward the stairs.

“Who the hell is this Sinead woman?” Mike demanded.

“His ex,” Vicki said, face tight with anger. “She’s always been into magic. Black magic from what he said. And for whatever reason, she’s decided that breaking up is too hard to do.” She paused and they pushed through the doors onto the street.

Mike led the way to his car. “He broke up with her, I assume.”

“Yeah.” A deep breath and she went on. “She used magic to compel him before. The time I met her, it was the Magnus O’Connor case, remember?”

“I doubt I’d forget a case that involved a woman using her dead son’s spirit to commit murder.” Mike opened the car doors and they slid in. “Where to?”

“My office. Coreen’s on her way. I called her from the cab on my way here.”

“So, Sinead…”

“She magicked Henry somehow. He wouldn’t tell me specifics. I know she tried to keep him with her, but he managed to break the compulsion to come help me.”

“It looked to me like she had him locked up pretty tight.”

“She’s definitely gotten more powerful. And that worries me.”

“Me too,” Mike said.

* * * * *

Mike was thankful for their police background, because it enabled them to provide Coreen with a concise report of what had happened, despite their agitation.

As Vicki finished her description of the scene in Henry’s apartment, Mike paced back and forth, trying to think of something they could have done differently.

Coreen’s eyes were wide. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” Vicki said. “The question is, what do we do now?”

“Did she look different?” Coreen asked, pulling the keyboard closer. “Any tattoos like yours? Aura of power? Was she wearing any jewelry? What did she–”

“Wait.” Vicki held up a hand and closed her eyes. “She had something around her neck.”

Mike closed his eyes as well and brought the scene up in his mind. “Leather cord.”

“Oooh, animal product,” Coreen said, “that’s a possible.”

“It was gold.” Vicki said. “Well, gold-ish, at least.”

“Gilded,” Mike said. “The shape…I can’t describe it. Vic, can you draw it? You were always better at that than me.”

Vicki grabbed the paper Coreen handed her and started to sketch. “Damn it,” she muttered. “I’m not the artist around here.”

Mike put a hand on her back as he looked over her shoulder. “A little rounder at the bottom,” he said.

They wrangled for a few minutes until they had a shape that looked like what they remembered and then Vicki handed it to Coreen.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can find. But go away and think about whether there was anything else about her. I don’t want you two looming over my shoulder.” She waved a hand at Vicki’s office.

Sighing, Mike took Vicki into her office and they shut the door. She sank down into one of the visitor chairs and Mike sat down next to her, dragging his chair up close.

“What if we don’t get him back?” she asked.

“We will.” Mike slumped in his chair, tapping fingers on Vicki’s desk.

“Sinead’s powerful.”

“But we’re smart and stubborn and pissed as hell. Oh and sneaky. Sneaky beats powerful any day.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I hate to admit it, but I can’t imagine life without him now.”

Mike breathed in and out a few times. “Neither can I.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, you know. I mean, even now.”

“He’s a pain in the ass. Not to mention neck.”

“Yup.”

“But he’s *our* pain in the ass.”

“Sinead’s going to regret this,” Vicki said quietly.

“You bet.”

* * * * *

“Okay,” Coreen said an hour later when she called them into the outer office. “I think I know what she’s got.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Egyptian magic.”

Vicki groaned. “Again? I hate Egyptian magic.”

“Sorry. It looks like a wooden ib, or heart, amulet, one of the most potent of Egyptian amulets. The heart was considered the most essential organ because they believed it was the center of intelligence, feelings, and actions, as well as where memories were stored.” Coreen brought up a website showing a picture that looked almost exactly like what Sinead wore.

“That’s it,” Mike said.

“Okay, so what, we destroy this thing and we get Henry back?” Vicki was almost bouncing in place.

Coreen gave them both a nervous look.

“What? Out with it,” Vicki said.

“It’s not quite that easy.”

“Why not?” Mike asked.

“The power isn’t really in the amulet. I mean, yeah, some of it is, because she’s focusing through the amulet and that’s what’s made her look more powerful, but the power is still in her mind. Even if you destroy it, she’d probably still be too dangerous. You need to break her hold over Henry first.”

“Well, how do we do that?” Vicki demanded.

Coreen fiddled with her hair, avoiding their eyes.

“I swear, if you don’t tell us right now, I’m going to–”

“Whoa!” Mike grabbed Vicki’s shoulder.

Coreen took a deep breath and said very quickly, “The two of you need to break her hold on Henry with your love for him.”

Mike stopped breathing for a long moment as they both stared at Coreen. “I’m going to pretend,” he said slowly, “I didn’t just hear you say that.”

“I’m sorry,” Coreen said, “but I can’t think of another way to put it. You said that he responded when each of you spoke to him, so I think that even though you’re not magic-users, if *both* of you can focus your feelings through similar amulets, you should have enough power to reach him. Egyptian amulets were made to be used by everyone, after all.”

“Our feelings,” Vicki said, rather ominously.

“I’m not blind.” Coreen sighed. “I see how you three look at each other. Besides, why else was Mike there without you? And may I say, I’m very glad to see that you all finally came to your senses and–”

“Coreen. Focus.”

“Right. Anyway, if you can get through to Henry, he might be able to break the spell however he did it before.”

“Might?” Mike asked.

“It’s the best I can do.” Coreen shrugged. “It’s that or place a help wanted ad looking for another witch who’s willing to fight her.”

“I don’t think more black magic is what we need.” Vicki sighed. “What do we do?”

“Let me run out and get you guys some amulets.” Grabbing her purse, Coreen headed for the door. “You guys, uh, think about your feelings.”

Vicki leaned against the desk.

“Our feelings?” Mike asked, hating the whine in his voice.

“There’s really no way for this to end well, is there?”

Mike sat down in a chair and shook his head. “Hell, I don’t even know exactly what my feelings for him *are*.”

“Join the club.” She banged her fists against the desk edge. “Why couldn’t this be a simple case of ‘go in and beat the crap out of her’? *That* I could get behind.”

“I could always shoot her,” Mike said hopefully.

“You want to take a gun into the room with a witch who nearly killed us with a key?” Vicki stared at him. “Are you insane?”

“Good point.” Mike closed his eyes. “So, instead we get to think about our feelings.”

There was a pause. “Where did you say your gun was?”

*****

Eventually, Mike went back to pacing, but it was warm enough in the office that he finally had to give that up. He wiped at a bead of sweat and sat down across the room from Vicki, telling himself it was now or never. “Vic…”

“What?” She turned, obviously startled out of her thoughts.

“I wanted to say that…I can’t imagine life without you either. And if anything happens to you, I’m not sure Henry will forgive me.”

“No!” She pointed a finger. “Don’t go there. Don’t tell me I need to stay behind. I don’t run away. You know that. Besides, Coreen says this needs both of us.”

“She’s guessing. We don’t know for sure.”

“You’re going to argue with the woman who saved our asses with silver bullets?”

Mike shrugged. “I had to try.”

Vicki relaxed, leaning against the desk. “It just pisses me off when you guys try to protect me.”

“I know.” He looked at her small frame and thought about how helpless she looked splayed across Henry’s bed, and how capable she looked while kicking supernatural ass. She was stubborn, cranky, incapable of compromise, a mass of contradictions, and damn, he wanted to wrap her up in cotton wool to keep her safe.

She crossed her arms, brows lowered in suspicion. “What?”

“Nothing.” He was up and across the room before she could react, pulling her into a kiss. She tensed for a second, before relaxing against him, putting her hands behind his neck.

She tasted like soda and pizza, he thought as her tongue licked at his. He locked his arms, squeezing until she poked his shoulder with a finger. “Ow,” she said as he loosened his grip.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” She kissed him gently on the lips.

“No, I’m not,” he agreed.

She pulled back and let go. “I think,” she said slowly, “that we should go home when Coreen gets back. Go home separately, I mean.”

He waited.

“If we’re going to do this, I need,” she waved a hand at the space between them, “I need some time alone. To think.”

He nodded as Coreen burst through the door in a flurry of excitement. Yeah, he needed some time to think too.

* * * * *

Back home an hour later, Mike sat in his beat-up recliner, staring at the small piece of painted wood in his hand, hanging off a ratty piece of leather cord. This was utterly bizarre. He was holding an Egyptian amulet that he was going to use to free his vampire lover from a witch.

Every time he thought his life couldn’t get more insane…it did.

Okay, Coreen said he needed to focus on Henry. Leaning his head back, Mike closed his eyes and remembered Henry’s expression as he suggested they share Vicki.

He remembered Henry tortured and starved, kneeling on a filthy floor.

He remembered Henry forgiving him.

He remembered Henry describing the pain of being whipped.

He remembered Henry, burgundy shirt half-unbuttoned and a grin on his face as he pulled Vicki into a long kiss.

He remembered Henry arguing over paint colors.

He remembered Henry arching up from the bed in ecstasy, whispering their names.

He remembered Henry teaching Vicki sword-fighting.

He remembered waking up in the deepest night to find Henry watching him sleep.

Mike opened his eyes. “Sinead, watch out. We’re coming for you.”

In his hand, the amulet throbbed once, like a beating heart.

* * * * *

As the sun set, they rendezvoused outside the apartment building. Vicki was so worried that she went right into Mike’s arms without even looking to see if anyone was watching. He held her tight, trying to remember when *this* was all he’d ever wanted.

After a long moment, Coreen coughed and they jumped apart. “Okay,” Coreen said, rubbing her hands together, “don’t hesitate, because that will give her a chance to consolidate her hold on Henry.”

“Coreen…” Vicki paused. “If we don’t come out or call you, get out of town, okay? She’s not exactly a forgive and forget kind of girl. She may try and come for you too.”

“Way to be optimistic.” She waved a hand. “Go get ‘em.”

Mike managed a smile. “Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s what I get paid a measly salary to do, right?”

“Right,” Vicki said.

As they walked toward the front door, Mike said, “Are we sure they’re still there?”

“Well, the doorman says they haven’t left and Henry’s car is still here.”

“But if she magicked herself in, couldn’t she just magic out again?” Mike asked as they headed into the building, managing a friendly smile for the doorman as they went up in the elevator.

“Maybe, but she’s gotta be using a lot of power to hold onto Henry. Besides, this is the safest place for Henry to spend the day.”

“So you’re saying you have no idea.”

“Yeah.” Vicki shrugged as the elevator doors opened at Henry’s floor.

The amulet was damp in his clenched fist, feeling like a very small piece of armor against a very big gun. They stepped into the hallway, striding toward Henry’s door.

On Coreen’s advice, Vicki placed the amulet against the door as she put the key in the lock, and sure enough, the door swung open. In an instant, they were inside.

The living room was empty, so they kept going into the bedroom, instinctively standing to either side of the doors first, which was good, because the doors flew open on their own, and a blast of heat passed through them.

Vicki put up three fingers and on one, they came through the doors fast and low. “Time’s up, Sinead,” Vicki said, standing up and clutching her own amulet. “Henry, you need to concentrate on us.”

Sinead lay on the bed, entwined in a nightgown, sheets, and Henry, the very picture of happy abandon. Tipping her head back, she laughed, the kind of laugh Mike might have found attractive under other circumstances. Now it made him see red.

“Get out,” he said, clutching the amulet until it felt as if it were embedded in his palm.

“I don’t think so,” she said, lifting Henry’s chin up for a kiss. “I don’t know what got you through my wards, but neither of you is witch enough to defeat me.”

Mike couldn’t resist. “Oh you’re a witch? And here I thought you were just a bitch.”

Sinead waved a hand at him. Mike took a step backward, feeling a tide of power wash over him, but the amulet in his palm warmed and pulsed as it had in his apartment and he stayed up.

Eyes narrowing, she examined him. “Interesting. But not enough.”

“Henry!” Vicki called. “We need you. Talk to me. Focus on me.” Her knuckles were white with tension.

This time Henry’s head turned slightly in her direction and Sinead looked alarmed. She stared at Henry and he turned back to her. “Don’t listen to them,” she said. “They don’t love you the way I do. And I know you love me.”

“She’s lying,” Vicki said. “You told me how you feel about her and her use of magic. She’s controlling you, but you’re strong.”

Henry half sat up, head turning as if he was searching for something.

“Henry!” Vicki called him. “We’re here. We came for you.”

Sinead put a hand to her amulet and Henry lay back down. She smiled a vicious smile at Vicki. “I told you he’s mine.”

Vicki took a deep breath. “I love you, Henry. I’ve loved you all along, but I didn’t want to admit it because I was scared.”

Henry sat up and looked in Vicki’s direction, expression vague and confused. “Vicki?” he said.

Sinead glared and waved her hand at Vicki, who staggered back a few feet, then at Henry, who put his hands to his head with a growl. “You can’t win,” Sinead said. “I’m stronger than you.”

Vicki swayed on her feet and Mike took a deep breath, stepping forward to stand beside her. “But you’re not stronger than both of us,” Mike said. “Henry, listen to me.”

Henry rolled out of the bed, still clutching his head. “Mike?”

“I’m here. We’re both here. Concentrate on us. Fight her.” The amulet was so warm it almost burned his hand, but Mike held on.

Henry stood and took several steps toward them, but when Sinead pointed at him, he jerked back as if she’d pulled a leash. She knelt on the bed, pulling him back on an imaginary string.

“No!” Mike reached out for him with the hand holding the amulet. “Damn it, I love you, okay? I love you, you royal bastard. Don’t you dare give up. We need you.”

Henry’s eyes slowly came into focus and Sinead whimpered, trying to pull him further. But he stood in place, looking at Mike and Vicki.

“Don’t leave us,” Mike said. “Please.”

“Please,” Vicki echoed. She reached out and took Mike’s hand and that contact seemed to galvanize Henry, who stood tall, his eyes darkening as he turned to face Sinead.

“You,” he said, voice as dark as his eyes. “All your magic will not protect you from me now.”

Sinead cowered against the pillows, doing her best to look helpless. “It was all for you. I didn’t want you to get hurt doing *their* business.”

Henry loomed. “Their business is mine because I wish it that way. You could never understand caring about someone like that.”

“But I love you!”

“No.” Henry shook his head. “You don’t.”

He reached out, grabbing her by the throat and squeezing, and Vicki and Mike rushed the bed, each grabbing an arm. “Wait!”

Henry growled as they tugged on him and for a long moment they’d reached an impasse, until he dropped the unconscious and barely-breathing Sinead back on the bed.

As they tried to pull him backward, Mike could feel Henry’s full strength, and Mike knew that the only thing holding Henry back was his desire to not hurt *them*. “Don’t do it,” Mike said quietly, trying not to further provoke Henry.

Henry vibrated with tension. “Some people,” he said, “deserve to die.”

“She’s not worth it,” Vicki said, pulling on Henry’s arm. “Can’t you…do something about her?”

“That’s what I’m *trying* to do,” Henry said.

“Something less permanent, that we don’t have to explain to Homicide,” Mike said.

Henry’s jaw was clenched as he stared at Sinead. “She’s evil.”

“I understand,” Mike said.

Henry glanced at him. “I don’t think you do.” As Sinead began to stir, he pulled his arms out of their grip.

When Vicki started to grab him again, Mike stopped her. They watched as Henry grabbed Sinead’s jaw and turned her to face him. Her eyes fluttered open and went wide with fear as she tried to struggle.

“Don’t move,” Henry said.

She stilled.

“You have no more magical ability than the average person. You couldn’t light a candle with your magic.”

Sinead repeated the words.

“You are afraid of the dark because you know that there are things more terrible than you lurking in it.”

Sinead repeated that.

“Go away and never find me again or I will kill you.” He lifted her off the bed, dropping her on the floor with a crash.

In a daze, Sinead crawled out of the room. They were silent, watching the doorway until they saw her stagger out the front door.

When Mike turned back, Henry stood stock still, still as only a vampire can manage, looking formal despite his barely-dressed state. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate your assistance. I need to be alone now.”

Mike and Vicki exchanged glances. He waved at her. “Thanks,” she mouthed at him.

He shrugged.

Vicki stomped up to Henry and punched him on the arm. Hard.

Startled, he stared at her. “What…?”

“We’re not going anywhere, idiot. We didn’t go through that embarrassing exercise in order to abandon you. Do you know how few people I’d be willing to do that for?”

Henry continued to stare.

Vicki rolled her eyes. “I’d have left my *mom* in an evil witch’s clutches rather than say that stuff, okay? I’d only do that for you and Sparky over there.” She waved at Mike.

Mike was about to sit on the bed when he changed his mind and stripped the sheets off. “Thanks, I’m touched,” he said over his shoulder.

“You should be.” Pausing, she stepped in front of Henry. “You went to a lot of trouble to get us in your bed, so don’t think you’ll get rid of us that easily.”

Henry’s voice wavered. “I…am not proud of what happened.”

Tilting her head, Vicki examined Henry. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said softly. “She took advantage of you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mike tossed the sheets in a pile and turned quickly, Vicki’s tone catching his attention. She’d always been quick on the uptake concerning victims. “She’s right,” Mike said, his voice no louder than Vicki’s. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know that.” His chin came up.

“No, you don’t. Not in your gut, you don’t. Maybe you’re afraid you secretly wanted this, or that you should have tried harder to get away.”

“Don’t presume to tell me how I feel,” Henry said, hands clenching into fists.

Mike looked him in the eye. “You’re not angry at me. You’re angry at Sinead.”

“Well,” Vicki said, “he’s probably angry we didn’t let him kill her. But that’s different.”

Henry transferred his glare to her, but she was equally unmoved.

“Leave,” he said with a growl. “This is your last warning.”

Mike came closer. “We’re not leaving,” he said. “We wouldn’t leave someone we love at a time like this.” He was proud that he didn’t stumble at all over the word.

There was a long pause and Henry slid slowly to his knees, holding onto Vicki. Mike knelt beside them, reaching out a hesitant hand, and Henry grabbed it, pulling Mike against him.

They wrapped their arms around Henry as he shook. “It’s over,” Mike said.

“We beat her,” Vicki said.

Henry whispered. “She was too strong.”

“Not too strong for the three of us.”

Henry’s grip was tight enough to be painful, but they didn’t complain, kneeling in their awkward positions and holding onto him as he buried his face between them.

“You know,” Henry said eventually, lifting his head, “there aren’t many people I’m willing to look weak in front of.”

“Really?” Vicki said, playing along.

His laugh was a shadow of normal, but it was genuine. “In fact, the list is composed of you and Sparky.”

“Hey!” Mike said. “This Sparky thing needs to stop now.”

“Would it be better if we called you Snookums?” Vicki asked, hiding her grin against Henry’s shoulder.

“Only if I get to call you both my Pookie Bears.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Henry said. “No more Sparky, then.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Royal bastard, though? That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that used as an endearment. Maybe I should have that put on a t-shirt.”

“God, I hate you *so* much.”

“I love you too.” This time, Henry’s laugh was almost normal. “Both of you.”

* * * * *

A few days later, Mike rolled over in bed, groggy, and noticed that the shutters were down, so dawn had to be close. Blinking bleary eyes, he saw that Vicki was still asleep curled up against Henry, but Henry was wide awake and watching him.

Suppressing a yawn, Mike said, “Everything okay?”

Henry nodded.

“Good.” Mike gave in to the yawn, then lay there watching Henry and Vicki through half-closed eyes and considering what he’d *thought* his life would be like.

“Yes?” Henry said eventually.

“Hmm?”

“You seemed to have something on your mind.”

“Not really.” Mike reached out and traced the area around Henry’s heart. It was unscarred now, but Mike would never forget the sun-shaped wound.

Henry captured his hand. “What’s bothering you?”

“I was just wondering…” He paused, looking for the right words. “What do you get out of this?”

“Besides food and sex?” Henry asked with a small grin.

“Yes, besides food and sex, smartass.” Mike shook his head. “I mean, we’re nobody special, a cop and a PI. You’re…” He trailed off.

“The wealthy bastard son of a king?”

“Among other things. So why us?”

Henry looked down at Vicki and then back at him. “Only a few have known who and what I really am. In that select group, Monsignor Mendoza tried to kill me, and Sinead tried to cage me. In you and Vicki, I have not one but *two* people who know my secrets and are still willing to risk their short and fragile lives in order to protect me.”

Mike was silent.

Henry smiled. “In almost five centuries of life, I’ve never received a gift so valuable.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Magic really sucks, you know?

Vicki glared at Henry. “We can’t leave him this way.”

“But he’s much less argumentative.” Henry lounged on the couch.

“Find someone to change him back,” she said.

“You know, he won’t be pleased when he realizes that not only was he turned into a dog, but he was turned into a *poodle*.”

“Henry.”

“We could call him Sparky.” Henry whistled at the pale brown dog. “Here, Sparky!”

“Henry!”

The poodle looked up from the corner he was assiduously sniffing and trotted over to Henry. Then he peed all over Henry’s shoes.

It took Vicki fifteen minutes to stop laughing.

by Mara

Summary: If music be the food of love…Mike and Vicki wish they could order Chinese.

Mike stopped in the doorway, covering his ears. “What the *hell* are you listening to?”Vicki stepped inside. “It sounds like an orchestra warm-up.”

Reclining on the couch, Henry opened his eyes. “You’re both Philistines. It’s Jeux venetiens, an early work by Polish avant-garde composer Witold Lutoslawski.”

Vicki looked at Mike. “Avant-garde. That means bad.”

Mike looked back. “Early. That also means bad.”

“Lutoslawski’s music is groundbreaking in its use of–”

“Henry,” Vicki said. “It’s music.”

“If you have to explain it,” Mike said, “it’s too late.”

“Philistines.” Henry sighed. “And I *assured* Witold that everyone would love it.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: “I could just rip a door off its hinges.”

Story Notes:

A bit of silliness to cheer up Dragonsinger