Ever since she'd come home from the hospital after recovering from hypothermia, Mary had felt the weight of those memories pressing against her every time she walked upstairs. The walls seemed to swell and emanate some combination of despair and wrath. Before Emily was released from the hospital, Mary had asked Abigail to perform a cleansing ritual on the house, but the only result was the scent of burnt sage weaving itself permanently into every article of clothing she owned.

She could only describe the house now as oppressive. It was beautiful, tastefully decorated, and had been home for longer than any place she had ever known. But she couldn't sleep there anymore. As soon as she saw the listing for their new place - an old house for rent on the seedier side of town - she knew it was time to leave. A new start with a clean slate was exactly what both she and Emily needed. They may not have water pressure, but at least the place would be their own.

Mary paused at the foot of the stairs and looked around. It was difficult to tell they had even moved out. Nearly every piece of furniture and every decoration belonged to her parents and had been left behind. She shivered slightly before continuing upstairs.

In her old room, she pulled a chair to the closet and stepped onto it. She still wasn't at eye level with the highest shelf. Elevating herself to the very tips of her toes gave her just enough height to reach to the middle of the shelf. Her fingers brushed against something, but the only thing she was able to grasp was a handful of dust. Sighing and steadying herself on the wheeled chair, she jumped a few inches and managed to pull a pile consisting of several canvases and a box within reach. She also sent the desk chair rolling backwards and was left hanging from the shelf until a pair of strong hands pulled her down to the floor. The box tumbled after her, spilling its contents at her feet.

Mary: "What the hell are you doing here?"
Chris: "I followed you in."
Mary: "Why?"
Chris: "It's been awhile since we've talked."

Mary: "You do realize that was on purpose."
Chris: "Exactly my point. If the only way to see you is to corner you in an empty house in the dead of night--"
Mary: "Then that makes you a stalker? Why yes, Chris, yes it does."

Chris bent down and began gathering up the photographs and letters scattered at her feet.

Chris: "Well, well, what have we here?"
Mary: "Give me those!"

Mary tried to snatch the pictures away from Chris, but he dodged her and stood on the bed, holding the pictures just out of reach.

Chris: "Young Mary, Emily and the college chum Laura. You've hardly changed at all, Mary. Except for the obvious."

Chris puffed out his face and doubled his chin.

Mary: "You really know how to turn a woman on, Peterson."

Mary pulled Chris's ankle, sending him falling down on the bed, and grabbed the pictures out of his hand.

Mary: "I'll be damned, that really is Laura. No wonder I didn't recognize her, she totally got a nose job! I remember her now… and hey, how the hell do you know Laura?"
Chris: "Laura? Oh, we go way back."
Mary: "What exactly does that mean?"
Chris: "I used to work for Stone, right? I know all about you."

Mary: "What did he tell you? What does he know?"
Chris: "Stone? Not a damn thing. The reconnaissance mission was my idea. Don't worry, Pet, I didn't give him anything. Not on you or the Laine girl."
Mary: "Gee, thanks."

Chris moved in closer to her, putting a hand to her cheek.

Chris: "Does it make you uncomfortable? Me knowing all about the details of your life, and you knowing nothing at all about mine?"

Mary stepped back.

Mary: "Yes, Chris, as a matter of fact, it does. I don't know what you think you know about me, but I don't like being manipulated, and I don't like playing this game with you. So I'm not going to do it anymore. You're the evil undead, I get it. You're creepy, you're unpredictable, and yes, you scare me. But only enough for me to know better than to deal with you anymore. And I am perfectly capable of dealing with you, by the way. I can take care of myself, and I have friends who are here for me."
Chris: "Do you? Listen."

Chris: "Do you hear that?"
Mary: "Hear what?"
Chris: "It's the sound of crickets chirping."
Mary: "I don't hear any crickets."

Chris: "Crikey, it's a figure of speech. My point is there's no one here but you and I."
Mary: "So what?"
Chris: "Where's your knight in shining fangs?"
Mary: "James? I've no idea. Obviously not stalking me like certain other men desperately in need of dental work."

Chris: "He hasn't been around much this summer, has he?"
Mary: "No, he hasn't been. And why should he be? He was never around much to begin with."
Chris: "Is that what you need to tell yourself?"

Mary: "Whatever. Listen, I'm tired. Will you please leave now, so I can lock up and go home?"
Chris: "You could always spend one more night here…"

Mary: "I don't think so."

Mary gently removed Chris's hands from her waist and sidestepped around him.

Mary: "I need to go home. To my new home. Emily's waiting for me."

Chris walked slowly to the bedroom door and closed it, blocking Mary's exit. He watched as she pretended not to notice and gathered her things into a backpack. He could hear her pulse quicken as she finally stood up, set her jaw, and made her way to the door.

Mary: "Move."
Chris: "Make me."
Mary: "Fine. I'll just take the window. Used to sneak out all the time when I was a kid."

Mary walked resolutely to the window, opened it, sighed, and turned back around. Chris smirked at her.

Chris: "Remember? You had that tree cut down after I came to visit you here for the first time."
Mary: "I know what you're trying to do. It won't work."
Chris: "What's that, Love?"

Mary: "You're hoping for a repeat of Christmas, but it's not going to happen. I'm just too tired to be that crazy anymore. Furthermore, I'm sorry for what happened. I'm ashamed of the way I behaved, and I'm not going to be that person anymore. And although I do get that you weren't entirely hurt by what happened, I'm sorry for… what I did to you. It was wrong."
Chris: "What's this, you nearly die, and now you've come back and turned over a new serene leaf? How bloody long is this phase going to last?"
Mary: "It's not a phase, and don't mistake this for absolution for what you've done. You're still a predator. I won't forget that."

Chris stared dumbly at her for a moment before stepping aside and opening the door.

Chris: "Whatever you say, Pet. But let me tell you something. Once the demon's in you, it sets up home for good. If you want my advice-"
Mary: "Which I don't."
Chris: "-you should just embrace that inner demon. It's what completes you."
Mary: "Right, my inner demon is Tom Cruise and he wants me to convert to scientology, got it. Thanks for the advice. Good night."

As Mary walked to her car, she found her thoughts returning to James. She hadn't realized just how much he had been around until he was gone. When she woke up in the hospital all those months ago, his was the first face she saw, and it made her feel instantly safe. She rationalized that it was only because she knew that if she was seeing James, she was back in the world of the living. But a moment later as she watched him walk out of her hospital room and not look back, she felt something sink inside her.

Ever since, she'd had this feeling. She wasn't sure what it was. It was like needing to yawn, but being unable to, or trying to remember a word that was stuck on the tip of her tongue. Whatever it was, it compelled her to seek James out by turning up in places that she knew he frequented, hoping that if she could just look at him again, she'd remember the word she had lost and finally be able to sleep.

She managed to run into him a few times at the Xenon and at the bar near Hinsu's karate, but he was always too occupied to offer her more than a tight-lipped smile and a head nod. Sometimes he was alone, on his way out, and sometimes he was with someone, too busy dancing to even notice she was there.

One night, she sat down alone at a table with a pitcher of beer, a pen and a stack of paper napkins. She wrote what started out to be a letter to him. It ended up being a long, rambling, barely legible short novel with absolutely no plot whatsoever. In it, she apologized for all the times she had been cruel to him or had brushed him off, and for judging him unfairly. She thanked him for helping her to get Emily back. She even went so far as to say that she really liked his music and wished she could have finished the artwork for the sleeve of the new album.

When she finished, she sat back and stared at it for a few minutes before getting up and throwing it into the garbage on her way out the door. She couldn't decide whether she was chickening out or growing up, but it didn't matter. Even if the things she'd said would have meant anything to James, he wasn't ready to hear them. He was obviously trying to distance himself from her and from Emily, and with good reason. It seemed only natural that a vampire wouldn't want to get overly attached to mortals or too involved in their lives. Mary decided to leave well enough alone and respect James' silent decision. She also decided to move on with her own life, and to bring some semblance of normalcy back to it.