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Months had passed in relative quiet for Natalie following the half-disaster that was the Masquerade. She still could only faintly recall the events of that night. Not long afterwards, Carver had left the compound with barely a word.

And then things settled into a dreary sort of pattern with the start of the fall semester. Classes, sewing, classes, sewing, on and on until she couldn't quite make out where one day ended and the next began save that she tended to sleep sometime in the interval. It quickly became apparent that keeping her ties with her newfound friends would be difficult. She took the coward's path, and opted just to seclude herself without explanation. She spent those long months drowning under school work, a minor theatre production, and tailoring, with a few commissions scattered in for good measure. Matt and Stephen continued to ******** things up every time they opened their mouths, and Vinni had turned from a plush egg to a tiny bunny who skipped around, ran into things, and tried to eat all her fabric scraps.

Her child still had not manifested.

She'd asked Hadrian about it once or twice when she'd had the time to help out with the paperwork. He'd said something about unforeseen problems applying to all the energy blobs. She'd let the matter drop, too busy to push further and quietly thankful that she didn't have a child to complicate her life just yet.

When the semester ended and all her final exams were over and done with, Natalie slumped into a sort of exhausted torpor. She spent a lot of her time on the couch, watching chick flicks and sampling, progressively, all the flavors of ice cream the local supermarket carried. She didn't get any callers for over a week, and her only company was Vinni, who was surprisingly warm and affectionate for all of her brainlessness.

Mictlan called once to say that he'd managed to keep his job at the pastry shop, and that he could take care of his rent on his own. He sent Amig's greetings, invited her over to a Christmas party. She refused.

It wasn't that she was depressed. It was more that the constant strain of months of running this way and that had left her drained to the point where social interaction just seemed like too much work. Besides, what would a Christmas party hosted by a tentacled manifestation of a planet be like? She did remember to ask for cookies for Christmas, though. That'd be nice.

Today had been one of her more productive days. She'd finally gotten off of her rear, thrown out all the empty tubs of ice cream, and put on lots of warm clothing. She'd gone out running. She hated running, but there was no way she'd lose her figure to ice cream binging. After years spent as the dumpy-looking, frizzy-haired weird girl, she'd vowed never to go back to that. It was so much easier to love herself when she could stand looking in a mirror.

She came back from her run cold and sore, but feeling better and more energetic than she had in months. She took a nice warm bath, read a few chapters in a good book, relaxed by soft candlelight for a while. A nice, warm nap with Vinni curled up in her hair later, she checked the clock - seven in the evening - and pulled herself reluctantly from her bed. Pulling a fuzzy robe on over her nightgown and slipping her feet into fluffy slippers, she wandered into the kitchen and started pulling things out of the fridge. Mostly it was sorting, finding the few things that hadn't gone bad yet. Gradually, she gathered a host of viable ingredients and began throwing things together, aiming for some sort of chicken-pasta dish.

While things were boiling and simmering, she popped in a movie and started trying to brush out her hair. It caught painfully with every stroke, but by the time the timer went off in the kitchen, the beast was mostly tamed. Natalie shuffled back to the kitchen and started plopping her food onto a plate.

Then somebody knocked on the door.

Natalie blinked, then grabbed another plate and served whoever her guest was. It was probably Remi or Dacian or Hadrian, she guessed, or maybe Matt and Stephen. It might even be Thorn, though his few visits had been short and uneventful. Whoever it was, she decided she wouldn't mind a little company.

It was Michael.

He was standing there, shivering, wrapped in a greatcoat and a pale umber scarf. His breath clouded the air even inside the mildly climate-controlled stairwell. He looked distant, worried.

Natalie stood there staring a moment, then tried to close the door in his face.

Michael let her, but knocked again a few moments later. This time Natalie put the chain on the door before opening it, peering at him through the crack in the door. "What do you want?"

"... I need to talk." His voice was flat, controlled. "You're the only one-"

"Why not your fiance?" Natalie spat out, though she opened the door a little wider.

"Because she's not my fiance anymore. Her father decided it was better for the business if we broke up. Candice gave me the, 'So long, you were a nice ******** while it lasted,' speech."

Natalie's mouth fell open. She stared at Michael, her caring nature warring with her lingering resentment. Finally, she unlatched the door and let him in. "... Sit down and have something to eat," she murmured, then went to grab the two plates.

As Michael shed his coat and sat down in one of the chairs at Natalie's small table, Natalie set the plates down and poured them each a glass of wine. Settling herself across from him, she pursed her lips. "Does it hurt?"

He paused with the glass resting on his lips. He set it down again and shifted in his chair, stretching a little and looking up at the ceiling. He loosened his tie. "No, it doesn't."

Natalie frowned, taking a bite of her meal. "But she was your fiance."

"Remember what I told you? I never loved her. Never will. Still, I thought I would have felt a little bit of loss... something. But there's nothing. It's as if... as if... she doesn't matter. And I can't help but hate myself for it."

Natalie nibbled on a piece of chicken, watching him, listening. She supposed he might be lying to her, but if that was his game, she would have expected more tears. He was an actor, he could call them up at will. No, his cold, apathetic disappointment touched her. "I don't know what to say," she confessed after a moment, setting down her fork and reaching for the wine.

"Company's enough," he muttered, looking down at his food and toying with his fork.

"That... I can give." It took all her courage to say it, but once the words were out, she felt lighter. Maybe he had changed.

After a dinner spent slowly getting to know one another again, they journeyed over to the couch. Natalie turned off the movie that she had forgotten was on. They watched The Price Is Right, laughed, and drank. There was still lingering tension between them, but it was slowly fading. It may have been the laughs, it may have been the game show, it may have been the wine. Whatever it was, she didn't mind when he rested his arm on the back of the couch behind her.

"Natalie?"

She looked up at him, tearing her eyes away from the gigantic wheel whirling on screen. "Yeah?"

"I want to apologize."

She scrunched up her nose, frowning. "For what?"

"Way back, that night when I... that night."

She nodded, looking away. "That night."

"Yeah. I don't know what I was thinking. I just... I didn't want to lose you."

Natalie felt her face heating up. She shook her head. "No, it's fine. It's in the past." Then she looked up with a smile, determined to change the subject. "So, how do you like the apartment?"

"It's nice." He blinked, taken aback a little. "How much do you pay for it?"

A sly smile spread across Natalie's face, her eyes twinkling. "Absolutely nothing."

"Hm?"

"I get this place for free, since I agreed to help the people who run this place out."

"What, are you selling your body now?" His eyes twinkled with mirth, but he watched her with curiosity.

"No, but I am going to be taking care of a child."

"My Natalie, a mother?"

She laughed. "Yeah, though I'm sure as hell not ready. Still need to get her room set up..."

"A girl?"

"I think so, anyway. It's hard to explain."

There were elated cries from the TV. Some old lady had won something, a jet ski or a yacht or a sportscar.

Something happened when they were finishing off the second bottle of wine. Whatever the reason, Michael made the first move. Right when she set her glass beside his on the coffee table, he put his hand on her wrist. She looked at him. He kissed her.

A bottle of wine earlier and she would have resisted, would have fought him off, would have ordered him out. But now she relaxed against him, felt him wrap his arms around her. Her arms slid up around his neck. They fell back onto the couch.

Sometime around the end of Wheel of Fortune, maybe half past midnight, they got up and stumbled back to her bedroom, where they fell back on one another in a languid tangle of limbs. There was heat and noise and all Natalie could really remember the next morning was the warmth and the sound of his heartbeat.

She woke up before he did, naked and curled up in his arms. Carefully, nursing a mild headache, she slid out of his embrace and, grabbing some underwear and the first thing her hands fell on - a dress - stumbled into the bathroom.

The bright light hurt her eyes and made the throbbing in her temples worse. She fumbled in the medicine cabinet for advil, popping two dry. Then she turned on the shower, climbing into the scalding hot water. Little snatches of the night before resurfaced and she rested her forehead against the tile of the shower wall, moaning quietly.

There was a knock.

"Come in," she managed, not able to look towards the door. She knew what was coming. He would smirk, pleased that he'd manipulated her into this. He'd leave, now that he'd finally gotten her.

Michael stepped in, closing the door carefully behind him with a tiny click. "Are you feeling okay?"

She closed her eyes, scrubbing at her face with the heels of her hands. "Yeah. Headache. Are you leaving?"

"Only if you want me to," he replied. He came a few steps closer. "Actually, though... I meant to ask if I could join you."

They were eating breakfast in comfortable silence when Michael finally spoke up. "Do you want to go shopping?"

"For what?" Natalie blinked, confused.

"Paint and furniture for your daughter's room. You said you had to get it ready."

"You don't have to come along."

"I want to."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then Natalie looked away, biting her lip and toying with a wet curl. "You're acting like we're... we're... a couple."

He looked down at his plate, took another bite of toast.

"Are we?" she whispered, glancing back at him.

He met her eyes with a slight smile. "If you can forgive me for everything I've done."

She giggled a little, hands twisting together in her lap. "Only if you promise to follow a few base rules," she said, trying to sound calm even though, internally, her heart was doing uncertain flips. She still didn't know if she could trust him, but that longing she'd buried at the end of the summer insisted that she give him a chance. The sex hadn't hurt, either.

"Of course. Name them. Anything you want." He was watching her with adoring eyes, possessive eyes.

"If there's ever another woman, tell me."

"I will."

"And you have to promise to be there for me if I need you. Not just for sex."

"Of course."

"Swear to me."

"I swear on everything I hold sacred." He laughed a little, holding out his hand to her. She took it, lacing her fingers in with his.

"You really mean it?"

"Every word."

They stayed like that, linked by touch for a few more minutes. Then Michael laughed. She looked at him, questioningly. "What?"

"Just thinking... that we're back to being Jane and Rochester. Though I didn't have to lose my hand and sight to get you back, now did I?"

"No," she responded, laughing herself.

The day stretched into a happy, long series of furniture stores and home improvement stores, little cafes and bookstores. He had called into work, taking the day off. They had all day to grow comfortable with one another again, find a middle ground where respect and affection was paramount to everything else. Natalie still wasn't quite sure what it was they had, but whatever it was felt warm and safe.

She felt steady for the first time in months.