Chapter 12

More than a year later...

"No," Kerry snarled into the phone. "I do not believe the statement you gave to the cops. I know you better than that Danno, and I know you'd rather snitch for a price. So what's it going to take?" She listened to the little weasel on the other end name a number. "I can swing $50 for this kind of information, and you know it. Come on, it'll be the easiest money you'll ever make. I just need an address and your name will never even come up."

One of the interns approached her desk, nervously chewing on her lip. Kerry raised a hand asking her to wait.

"Yeah Danno, you better hope this information is good or you'll damage our working relationship." She chuckled to herself as she hung up, jotting the address down on a piece of paper and turned towards the intern. "Rule number 35: Sources are all whiners. What can I do for you?"

"I found him!" the intern – Kerry thought her name was Alice – blurted out. She took out her iPhone and pressed the screen, showing Kerry the display. "Is that him?"

Kerry didn't bother wasting time pretending to be confused by the disjointed conversation. The moment her eyes rested on the thumbnail of the image she knew who Alice was talking about, even though there were several "him"s she was trying to locate. Only one mattered. "Yes," Kerry said slowly, grabbing the phone out of Alice's hand and looking at Michel as he talked to some girl in a bar. "Where did you get this?"

"I went home for my birthday and he was just there," Alice said excitedly. "And oh Kerry he looked exactly like that picture you keep in your priority folder. I mean, I accidentally clicked into it when you had me looking up addresses for you, and we all know the story about how you've been trying to find this guy since you moved here last year and I just assumed that this was him, and I..."

"Rule number 1: Never apologize for doing what comes naturally. If you feel more guilt than satisfaction for finding out information, you're in the wrong profession. Where?"

"Where what?" The intern asked, juggling taking her phone back and processing Kerry's veiled insult to really catch on to the question.

"Where's your home," Kerry said impatiently.

"Oh! Des Moines!"

"Thank you," Kerry told the intern, turning back to her computer and dismissing her at the same time. She waited until the girl was gone before she picked her phone up again. "Yes," she said into the receiver when someone on the other end picked up. "I'd like to book a ticket to Des Moines International, please. When? As soon as possible. Are there any flights going there today?" She scribbled numbers down on a new piece of paper, the address she had wheedled out of her snitch forgotten. "Yes, for Kerry Nowicki."

She hung up the phone, staring at the numbers scrawled almost illegibly across the page. After more than a year of searching, she finally had a break on Michel's location and it wasn't due to any legwork on her part. She'd been trying so hard, too. She didn't know whether to feel relief that she was almost there or a sense of failure at the fact it hadn't been her to ultimately find him.

Kerry jarred herself out of the thought, realizing that if she didn't make a few more phone calls, she wouldn't be making her flight later that afternoon. She didn't think she could wait another day, especially now that she was so close.

x.x.x.x

"Stay," he said to me, and the word was so quiet that I paused just to hear him. His fingers around my wrist were more aggressive, tugging me towards him. I felt myself move, my body taking the opposite action than my brain told it to.

"I shouldn't," I said honestly, but I was. My legs parted naturally as my knees brushed against his, and he pulled me onto the bench on top of him. His fingers slid up the back of my legs, moving my skirt up my thighs. "It's too cold for this," I protested again.

"Say no."

I didn't say anything. His hand was under my skirt now, cupping my ass as he pulled me closer, my legs spreading wider and sprawling against the cool wood of the bench. His body was warmer, and somehow all the hard angles and sinewy muscles of it were a welcoming feeling. My hand was on his chest, one hand above his heart and the other resting on his shoulder for balance.

His free hand was sifting through my hair, playing with one of the more stubborn strands that managed to curl into the shape of my ear no matter how many times I straightened it. He cupped the side of my head before leaning in for a kiss, the first moment just a brush of lips against mine.

"Say no and I'll stop," he promised.

I didn't, and he didn't. His next kiss was stronger than the first, harder. His mouth was urgent against mine, coaxing my lips open as he forced me to lean backwards so that I had to cling to his shoulders to keep from falling. His teeth nipped my bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth. My breathing was sharp through my nose and his was barely even as he groped to rip the side of my underwear. They came off easily.

"Ooh please," I breathed as he broke the kiss, his mouth on my neck as his surprisingly rough fingers pressed against my clit. I was ready. I was more than ready – I had spent the last 3 years in a state of yearning for him.

He didn't seem to have much patience for foreplay tonight.

"Ohh. Ohh yes." I don't know if I had ever felt anything like I felt when he entered me, not even all the other times with him before it. I don't know what made it so much more. I didn't think waiting and wanted was enough for that.

The angle wasn't good, but he was thrusting just as desperately into me as I was moving against him. I was humming in the back of my throat, but I barely realized it as his mouth sought out mine, the kiss wet and sloppy with open mouths before he trailed his mouth down my chin to the pulse point of my neck. He hovered there, indecisively, for a moment before his fingers were in my hair again and he was kissing me, tongue pressing against mine.

We only lasted a few minutes. It had been so long since I felt him that his every move sent pleasure throughout each nerve until tears were streaming down my face at the sheer sensation of it. He wasn't kissing me anymore, but his face was so close to mine that I couldn't focus on him.

I was shaking before I orgasmed, and he held me against him, his head resting on my shoulder, breathing hard. I could feel him coming with me, inside me, but we were both silent.

There was so much I wanted to say that I couldn't say anything.

When it was over, he kissed the side of my neck very softly, so like he had the first moment I realized he was really a vampire that the image of him, face unforgiving, flashed in front of my eyes. Then I thought of every subsequent look and touch he had given me since.

Are you as addicted to me as I am to you? I wanted to ask, but I was afraid of the answer.

I guess that answered his question about what happened after midnight in downtown Brockport. There was no way I could have known at the time that while we were having this reunion born out of mutual desperation, Doctor Roberts was being murdered a few blocks away, but that didn't make me feel any less of a sense of guilt.

X.x.x.x

The flight from Chicago to Des Moines technically wasn't that long, but she spent the entire hour and change in a state of apprehension, not knowing what to expect when she arrived. She was terrified that he would take one look at her and turn away, or worse, say something hateful. She was even more terrified that she wouldn't be able to find him at all, that the picture wasn't of him, or he had only been in the city overnight, or he knew she was coming and was avoiding her. Kerry kept telling herself that she just wanted to see him again, and that it didn't matter what happened after that, but it wasn't the truth.

She wanted so much more than that. She wanted a happy ending.

The hotel she booked for three nights was centrally located in the city. She had picked it just for that reason, knowing she was going to have to go to a lot of bars and popular hangouts in order to find him, or at least a trace of him. She had a suitcase full of clubwear, and a head full of possible lies for unearthing him, including that she was pregnant with his child and he owed her money. She didn't think any of them would get her through the metaphorical door if anyone was loyal enough to protect him. She also had a wallet full of bribe money and the desperation to use it.

She was willing to use all her savings to find him. She'd been living off Kraft Dinner for a year in a drafty apartment just for that reason, so she would have the extra thousands to waste on her desperate search.

Why had she ever let him leave? Was there nobility in that kind of stupidity? She didn't think there was.

When the plane touched down, it was already night, and she walked through the airport with her small carry-on bag with her eyes wide and desperately open. Despite the fact she was really good at spotting what she was looking for in a crowd, and pretty much had to be for her profession, she still worried he would be within touching distance and she would miss him. Years ago, her body had been so aware of him that she knew when he was behind her, but she didn't know if that still worked, if that connection was still there. She had been far too busy denying everything her brain was screaming about how she felt about him last year to really pay attention.

Kerry didn't even relax on the way to the hotel, her eyes constantly searching the streets for his dark hair. In the picture Alice had shown her, he was dressed in his casual-preppy uniform he often wore to blend in with college students, and she was quickly making a mental note to check the campus bars and dorms if she needed to. Some girl somewhere probably recognised him, but the question would be whether she admitted it or not. Kerry wasn't in the mood to meet the current Kerry Nowicki, if he ever got around to replacing her in his affections, but she was also aware that most of the girls he got with wouldn't care one way or another where or who he was.

It was just the way he liked them.

The room was a decent size just for her, and it was warm, which was a step up from her apartment back home in Chicago. She didn't take the opportunity to spend much time in it, immediately taking a shower to wash off the plane scent. She applied eyeliner and shimmer, wriggling into a dress which was borderline indecent and practically the only thing she owned which was still in style and could constitute as club-wear. Any new clothing she bought these days was for work, but mostly she was just too cheap to spend money frivolously when she was trying to save for... well, this.

How did she tell him that she hated the woman she had become? The one who was only alive when he was there, and who allowed herself to fall into a relationship and a life that was only mediocre at best. How did she tell him that she hated the kind of woman who could cheat on her boyfriend like she had with Luke, and then turn around and become his fiancée in order to hurt the man she really loved? That wasn't Kerry Nowicki. That was some woman she could barely recognise when it was all over, and it made her uncomfortable to realize that that person would always be a part of her.

But now, she was able to dream again of a future with the two of them in it, together. Parts of it were almost unimaginable, as she couldn't even begin to guess what his life was really like, but how could she not earn to find out.

She didn't know where to go on from here. She had hit rock bottom and had crawled out herself, only to realize that her entire view of the world needed to be reassessed. Who was SHE to turn down anything Michel offered? As a human, she wasn't better or superior in any way, she was just human.

A desperate human at that. One who didn't find what she was looking for that first lonely night in a strange city, a picture her own solace.

x.x.x.

Night two didn't start off any better. Kerry had always known a good part of her work as a reporter, or really any job when locating information or people was great amounts of leg work, uncomfortable questions, and relying on the memories and honesty of other people. Research and questions she was good at, it was the part about relying on other people that she didn't like.

She had received two leads by the second night, neither had panned out. Some people thought he looked familiar, some of them just smirked at her and shrugged. One ma offered to show her "a better time than this child" and, best of all, had been told twice to stay away from him. That told her that he was still in the city.

Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

"Have you seen him?" she asked the bartender, watching his face instead of looking at the picture. When his eyes flickered in recognition but mouth lied, she planted herself on the stool in the bar and looked him in the eye. She was prepared to lie through her teeth to find Michel, but instead she stayed with the truth. "If you see him tell him Kerry's looking for him. I'm one of the few people he'd actually be interested in talking to, so remember to mention me. Kerry."

The bartender looked at her sceptically.

"Look," she told him, slipping over a hundred. It was the second night, and she was getting desperate. "If he gets the message, I'll triple it."

He finally looked interested. "What was your name again?"

"Kerry," she repeated, enunciating carefully.

"Well, Kerry," he licked his lips and pocketed the money. "I don't know when Kurt'll be in here next, but he plays over at the Matchbox three times a week."

"Is tonight one of those nights?" Kerry asked.

The bartender shrugged.

"Fine," Kerry said, pulling out another two hundred dollars and slapping it on the bartop. "But if I don't find him I'll be back and I'll be a lot less pleasant."

Kerry wasn't considered a crack reporter for nothing. It took her less than five minutes to find the Matchbox, but more than an hour standing in line before she finally got in. Leave it to Michel to frequent a venue that was selective in who they let in, and with a capacity limit. The only reason she even managed to get through the bouncer and velvet rope was the slutty little dress she had wriggled into and the layers of shadow and shimmer coating her eyelids.

Despite the dim lighting, she spotted him immediately, standing center stage and crooning into a microphone. Her stomach did an odd little kick at the sight of him, one she hadn't felt since the Brockport murders, and even then she had been denying that she felt anything. She stopped in the doorway staring at him, watching as he picked up the electric guitar hanging by his side and started playing it. When the bartender had said he was playing here, she had pictured something to do the piano or maybe a keyboard. This was unexpected, and it was hot.

But it would also make him very difficult to talk to if he was now a local rockstar of some kind, with roadies and adoring fans trying to latch on to him. Someone jostled into her from behind, and she was forced forward, realizing that she would never get close to him unless he wanted her to. She felt like she could reach and out and touch him, but he was so far away too. Just, distant.

Out of her reach.

Her heart was yammering so hard it was a wonder he was able to keep the beat of the song over it.

She sat at the bar and watched him, trying to figure out a way to approach him to talk to him alone. She thought that everything would be solved if he would just look and see her, but his eyes didn't leave some girl in the first row, and Kerry felt her stomach churn over at the thought that he had someone else. She must have been frowning hard at him, because the woman beside her sighed and said "It's his gimmick."

"Excuse me?" Kerry asked politely.

"Kurt's. He picks a girl in the front and sings only to her, and then he buys her a drink and maybe takes her home if that goes well. The idea is that you just have to get close enough to get his attention. See?"

Kerry watched the people crowded around the stage, seeing how they all vied for attention and crushed forward, but it didn't seem any different from any other venue she had ever been to, even if Michel and his band were only playing covers, and the drummer wasn't that great. She could see that they had all been trying to get close to him, but she felt jealous at the idea he was encouraging it. Jealous, but also a little bit proud to have been the one he turned to in the past. She knew that if she stood in front of him right now, his eyes would stray away from the little girl he was watching and towards her, just like she was confident she could keep his attention.

She just wasn't sure it would be good attention.

Her mind ran the gamut of possible ways she could make him aware of her, from returning the next night he played and getting a place up front to waylaying him in the parking lot, but when it came right down to it, none of them were really good ideas. She wanted him to see her, and she wanted to run away, scared of what he would say when he finally noticed she was there. She knew he would probably say something hurtful, possibly that he only made offers once. She'd have to explain to him that she wasn't together with Luke anymore. That she had never intended to marry him at all. She had to tell him that she needed him in her life more than she needed anything else, but she also needed to know that she could make her life work without him. He had to know she didn't reject him, that she just needed... she couldn't really define it. Her entire life from the age of sixteen onwards had been defined by either loving him or hating him, and she just needed to have a life without him.

Unfortunately, even when she tried, he was still so ingrained in her psyche, so much a part of her life even when he was gone, that she wasn't living without him at all.

How did she explain all that in the three sentences he would probably allow her?

He was going to hate her.

He was going to ignore her.

He would yell she was a selfish bitch.

He'd walk out again.

He wouldn't do anything.

And her heart would shatter.

"Michel," she said lowly, her hand tightening painfully around the cosmopolitan she had ordered. The alcohol wasn't helping relax her like she hoped.

He looked up, halting his singing. The guitar crashed to a halt as he dropped it, eyes meeting hers with a roar that was far more potent than the sudden silence. She gasped as he stared at her from across the room, his band cutting the song short and the crowd turning in confusion as they wondered what he was looking at. "It's forever, Kerry, if you're ready now." His voice reverberated through the speakers, and the room fell quiet as the glass in her hand shattered against the floor and she stood.

She was silent for a handful of moments, unable to find her voice through the tears forming and cresting over her cheeks. Impatiently, she swiped them away as he watched, as everyone watched.

She should have known that he had understood and known from the beginning why she turned him away. He had always understood her motivations better than she herself did.

He would understand that her answer now was permanent. There was no going back on her word to him, once she made it.

"Yes," she said simply, and grinned.

The End.

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