With Yvette dead and Padma mourning the loss of his son, what was left of the Council voted to discontinue their tour of the United States. Phone calls had been made and arrangements were in place. Within an hour, the Council would be on their way back to Europe on their private jet. Asher's coffin and his luggage had already been sent to the airfield. All he needed to do was to call Balthasar and a car would be sent for him. Yet he hesitated. Padma had made it clear that he would do everything in his power to have Asher killed once they were back. He was angry at the loss of his son and blamed his inability to seek revenge on Asher's unexpected refusal to condemn Jean-Claude and Anita falsely. It wasn't why he hesitated, however. In fact, Asher rather hoped Padma's petition for permission to kill him was successful. His life had ended long ago. Physical death seemed almost an afterthought. No, it wasn't the possibility of death that held him fast. It was the painting.

When he'd first seen it, all the rage and pain of the past few centuries had crashed over him. How dare Jean- Claude have that painting! How dare he hang it for all to see! Had he no shame? In his rage, Asher had almost ripped it from the wall and destroyed it--had actually grabbed the frame in his hands to do so. But, at the last moment, he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to tear her apart again. To burn her again. Even if it were only a facsimile of her, it would have been too much like what the Witchfinders had done to her. What Jean- Claude had let them to do to her. But he hadn't allowed himself to look at her beautiful face again, either, or at himself, whole and smooth. From then on, he'd made a point of studiously ignoring the portrait. Not that ignoring it changed anything. He was always aware of its presence. It wasn't until now, when he knew that he was leaving, that he finally gave into the urge to look upon the figures so beautifully constructed by Rubens so long ago.

He stood, still and silent, gazing upon the portrait. It was an incredible work, full of color and life, created by an artist in the prime of his career. All of that barely registered for Asher, however. He looked upon the masterpiece and all he saw was the past. It was a luxury that he hadn't allowed himself in a very long time.

Something bumped him hard from behind. He spun around, his eyes blazing. He had a brief glimpse of a female werewolf before she squeaked in terror, dropped the end of the new couch that she'd been holding, and ran to huddle behind Jason. He turned his eyes to the were at the other end. This one looked just as terrified, but he held his ground.

"Um... Asher?" Jason grinned at the angry vampire. "Do you mind not scaring the bejesus out of the help? I'd like to get this done before Jean-Claude arrives."

Asher was embarrassed. He'd been so deeply engrossed in his memories, he'd forgotten the others were even in the room. He certainly never intended to send the were into hysterics. He wasn't about to admit it to Jean- Claude's pet, however. He glared at Jason and stalked angrily from the room.

******

Jean-Claude returned to the Circus of the Damned shortly before dawn. As he walked down the massive staircase, he reached out with his senses and "touched" all of his people yet again. He'd done it several times since he'd arisen tonight, just to reassure himself that they were indeed well. The Council had promised to remove themselves without further violence and he believed them, but he couldn't stop himself from "touching" his people, over and over, just to be sure.

As he neared the bottom of the stairs, he could hear several of his wolves talking. He turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and was stunned when he saw the stone room where they had faced the Council the night before. He stopped next to Jason, who was directing the hanging of the last drapery.

"You've been busy, my wolf."

******

Asher stood on the roof of the Circus. A warm, moist breeze teased his hair, tossing it around his face. Except for a number of ventilation shafts and a low wall along the edge of the building, the roof was flat, allowing him an unrestricted view of the city. The Mississippi River lay to the east, calm and quiet under the clear, starry night.

When he'd first arrived, he'd heard the noise of the crowd that waited to get inside the building and the conversation and laughter of those walking past. As it grew later, however, the streets below had emptied. Now, in the pre-dawn hour, all was still.

He felt a presence behind him. He knew who it was.

"Hello, Jean-Claude." He said, quietly.

"Asher." Jean-Claude replied.

Jean-Claude moved so that he was in front of Asher and sat on the short ledge on the edge of the building. Asher didn't look at him, however. Instead, he continued to look out over the skyline.

They were quiet for several moments before Asher asked, "How did you acquire that portrait, Jean-Claude? I thought it in some museum or destroyed."

Jean-Claude preferred not to dwell on his time with Nicolaos so he simply answered, "I came across it in Belgium during World War II."

"It's beautiful, Jean-Claude. I'm glad I got a chance to see it." Asher said, quietly.

Jean-Claude looked closely at Asher. It was the first time in over 200 years that Asher didn't look angry or filled with hatred. Instead, he appeared contemplative and sad. And terribly alone. Jean-Claude wanted to say something to comfort him, but he was worried that whatever he said would be the wrong thing.

Asher laughed softly. The unexpected sound caused Jean-Claude to flinch slightly. Asher glanced over at Jean- Claude and asked, "Did I ever tell you that it was our Dark Mistress who introduced me to Julianna?"

Jean-Claude shook his head.

"At the time, I was sure it one of her subtle punishments that she excels in. I was so fascinated with Julianna before I even met her, I used to stand and stare at her from across the room whenever we were in the same place at the same time. La Belle Morte wasn't pleased."

Asher fell silent and resumed his perusal of the city. After a few moments, he began speaking again.

"I asked her once why she brought Julianna and I together. She just smiled in that way that she has and said, "Maybe I wanted to give you a gift. Don't be ungrateful, dear one.""

Jean-Claude said, "Perhaps that's true."

Asher laughed again. "Do you really believe that, Jean-Claude?" He asked.

Jean-Claude chuckled softly. "I gave up attempting to discern the Dark Mistress's motives long ago, Asher."

Asher's face grew solemn. Jean-Claude watched as sadness chased the laughter from Asher's eyes.

"35 years. I had her for 35 years. It wasn't nearly long enough."

Jean-Claude wanted to comfort him, to express yet again how very sorry that he was for having failed them. He reached out to touch Asher, but dropped his hand before he did so. Instead, he made a different overture.

"Jason said that you were quite taken with the painting, Asher." Actually, Jason had said that Asher had seemed obsessed by it. "If you'd like to have it, I'd be happy to give it to you." He offered, though the thought of losing the portrait was painful.

"Thank you for the offer, Jean-Claude, but I won't be able to accept it." Asher said.

Both vampires stood quietly for a while.

"I've been thinking, Jean-Claude, about you... about all of us. It's something I avoided doing for a very long time." Asher said.

Jean-Claude looked at Asher, surprised.

"Anita was right, Jean-Claude." Asher continued.

"Anita?" Jean-Claude asked, confused.

"She said that you aren't responsible for what was done to me." Asher replied. "That men long dead did this to me. She was right. You didn't torture me and you didn't kill..."

"Asher," Jean-Claude interrupted, "This isn't necessary."

"Yes, it is. It's past time to be honest, both to myself and you, Jean-Claude, and it has to be now." Asher looked agitated and he combed his fingers through his hair. It was an old habit that Jean-Claude hadn't seen in a very long time.

Asher turned towards Jean-Claude, staring directly into his eyes. "I know it wasn't your fault, Jean-Claude." Asher continued. "I know you tried to get back in time. Yes, I blamed you for not taking the chance of returning by ship. And I was irrationally hurt and angry, that it was your name was on her lips when she died."

Jean-Claude interrupted him. "Asher, you know if she called for me, it was only because she knew you were chained and couldn't get to her."

"I know that, Jean-Claude. I may have blamed you for not getting to her in time, but I blamed myself for not being able to rescue her myself even more."

Asher turned away again. Staring off into the distance, he continued, "I've been telling myself and everyone else that everything was your fault. That it was your fault that we were in Antwerp. That it was your fault that we were recognized. That you could have taken a damned ship and been back in time, if you hadn't been a coward. But I never told you or anyone else, including myself, what I truly blamed you for."

"What was that?" Jean-Claude asked, softly.

"What I blamed you for, more than anything was for saving me ...for keeping me alive ...for getting me to safety. Because she was dead, Jean-Claude, and I was still alive. I would go for days without feeding, but in the end, I always allowed the Hunger to overtake me. I would court the dawn, but in the end, I would always find shelter. I couldn't protect her, I couldn't save her, and most damning of all, I couldn't let myself die. The only way I could justify that was telling myself that I couldn't die until I achieved my vengeance against you."

Jean-Claude lowered his head.

"It was my fault that we were in Antwerp." Jean-Claude said, his voice heavy with guilt. "If I had not decided to go to my mother ...if I had killed Philippe in Luxembourg... perhaps..."

Asher turned back towards him.

"Perhaps, Jean-Claude, perhaps. But Julianna and I were the ones that decided to wait for you in Antwerp. We could have traveled with you or even remained behind in Luxembourg. As for Philippe, you were right. He wasn't the one that betrayed us--at least not initially."

Jean-Claude looked up at Asher in surprise. Asher laughed. It wasn't a pleasant, happy sound.

"You didn't think I would take your word on that, did you?" He asked.

Jean-Claude was loath to turn the only real conversation he'd had with Asher in over two centuries into an argument about a man that was long dead, one way or the other, so he let the comment go.

Asher turned away from Jean-Claude and watched the barges move slowly down the river. The eastern sky was getting noticeably lighter.

"You know, Jean-Claude, blaming you... hating you--it's been my only reason for living since Julianna died." He said, softly. "Now I don't even have that."

With that statement, Jean-Claude realized that Asher had finally forgiven him. Other than Anita, it was the greatest gift of he'd ever received. Yet, at the same time, a terrible feeling of unease washed over him. Dawn was beginning to break and Asher didn't look like he had any intention of going back into the Circus. Had Asher come to the roof to do more than think about old times? He didn't allow himself to visibly react to that thought. Instead, he delivered the message that he originally came to give Asher.

"Balthasar called from the plane. Apparently they tired of waiting for you and left. He made a point of telling me that Padma refused to let him unload your coffin and the rest of your luggage." He said.

Asher said nothing.

"Dawn is pressing close, Asher. Shall we retire? You may use Liv's coffin, of course. She won't be needing it anymore anyway." Jean-Claude continued.

"Go ahead, Jean-Claude. I'll join you in a few minutes." Asher replied.

An icy feeling settled in Jean-Claude's stomach, but he kept his face smooth and his voice light.

Placing his hand on Asher's arm, he said, "We should go together so that I can show you where to find Liv's coffin."

Asher looked down at Jean-Claude's hand on his arm. He smiled slightly.

"Ah, Jean-Claude, always trying to save me, whether I want to be saved or not."

Jean-Claude returned his smile. "Save you?" He asked, disingenuously. "Save you from what?"

Though Jean-Claude's outward demeanor was calm, he could feel the tension curling through him. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if Asher refused to come with him. Somehow Jean-Claude didn't think he'd be able to bully him as effectively as he had in that farmhouse so long ago.

Asher stared into Jean-Claude's eyes for a long moment, his expression completely unreadable. Then Asher did something that Jean-Claude thought he'd never do again. He reached out a hand and brushed Jean-Claude's hair back from his face.

"You know, Jean-Claude. We should walk downstairs together. That way you can show me the way to Liv's coffin since I seemed to have misplaced mine." He said, before turning towards the doorway. Asher looked back at Jean-Claude, who was following him, and smiled. "You can also tell me where you found the lovely Anita and how you managed to get her to accept even three marks. Somehow I think that is a most interesting tale."

"You don't believe that Anita fell at my feet, overwhelmed with passion and love? I'm crushed." Jean-Claude replied, sardonically.

Asher laughed loudly. "I believe that the only way that Anita would fall at anyone's feet would be if something or someone large and heavy knocked her down, and woe to everyone when she got back up."

Jean-Claude responded, laughingly, "You are very astute, mon ami."

They went through the heavy metal door and Jean-Claude locked it behind them, leaving them safe from the rays of sunlight just breaking across the sky.