Ireland, 1814

Edmond Dantès slipped the post bills under the widow's door, keeping close to the side of the house so he could blend in with the shadows. Not that anyone was likely to be wandering about past midnight on a chilly autumn night. The money should be enough to last the widow till the end of the month, keep food on the table for her and her three children.

He never stayed to see the joy on the faces of the people he secretly helped – he wasn't doing this for any sense of goodwill – and he was about to leave, but when he turned, he stopped short at the sight of Caoimhe standing behind him, her mass of blonde curls tied back with a ribbon.

"I woke up and you were gone," she said.

"Sorry." Edmond crept away from the house, towards his lover.

Caoimhe stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. "I don't like it when you don't tell me you're going."

"I didn't want to wake you."

Caoimhe glanced back at the little house Edmond had left, and concern flickered across her face.

"You know how much I admire you for helping people, but . . . how long do you think you can keep this up?"

Edmond tensed. "What do you mean?"

Caoimhe knew why he gave away so much of his money, and she had always been supportive of it. For six years, he'd quietly distributed his wealth among the poorest parts of Paris, trying to help as many people as he could, but as the Napoleanic Empire tightened its grip, Edmond realised that Paris wasn't home for him anymore. Really, it hadn't been for a long time. Ysanne had made it clear that France would never be home again, and Edmond finally understood that. It was the place of his birth, and maybe it would always hold some place in his heart, but . . . something had changed. He didn't want to be there anymore.

So he'd returned to Britain, where he'd continued his mission to help the people who needed it most.

"Some of your investments haven't paid off like you hoped they would. You need to be careful, Edmond, or you'll run out of money," she said.

He shook his head. "Things will turn around."

"What if they don't?" Caoimhe asked.

Edmond offered a shrug; it wasn't something he cared to think about.

"It's just . . . don't you think about the future?" Caoimhe said.

"In what way?"

Caoimhe sighed. "We've been together for years, Edmond, but nothing's really progressed in that time. Don't you ever think about our future?"

Words failed him.

Caoimhe made him happy, and he'd loved the time they'd spent together, but . . . he hadn't thought about the future. It hadn't occurred to him that she might want more than what they had.

The air between them seemed to grow colder.

"You haven't, have you?" Caoimhe said.

Edmond would not lie to her. "No," he admitted.

A long pause ensued.

"Do we even have a future?" Caoimhe asked.

"What do you mean?"

Caoimhe stared at him. "Do you love me, Edmond?"

Another pause.

Caoimhe's expression flattened. "That would be a no, then."

"It's not –"

She held up a hand and Edmond fell quiet.

"You've never lied to me," she said. "You've never told me you love me, you've never pretended. But I do love you, Edmond. I really am in love with you, and I really wasn't planning on saying all this tonight, but I think we both need to know where we stand."

"Where do we stand?" Edmond asked.

"I don't know."

Caoimhe sat down, and patted the grass in front of her. Edmond sat.

"These last few years, you've made me so happy, Edmond, but at the same time it's always felt like you're holding back. I never addressed it before, because I thought it was something you'd get over. Now I don't think it is."

"You've made me happy too," Edmond muttered.

"But?" Caoimhe prompted.

Of course she could tell there was a 'but'.

"But I don't think we're meant to have happy endings," said Edmond bluntly.

Caoimhe frowned. "As in . . . us? You don't think that you and I are meant to have a happy ending?"

"I don't think any vampire is," said Edmond.

Caoimhe pulled back slightly, her forehead furrowed in surprise. "Why would you say something like that?"

Edmond thought of everyone he'd loved and lost. He thought of everyone that Ysanne had loved and lost. Caoimhe had lived enough long to lose plenty of lovers. Sometimes, in the privacy of their home, François had spoken to Edmond of his own losses.

"Because it's true," he said. "How many lovers have you buried?"

"You think those weren't happy endings?" Caoimhe said.

"I think you've outlived every human you've ever fallen for, and I can't fathom how anyone could consider that anything other than tragic."

Caoimhe shook her head, and her blonde curls bobbed. "You're wrong. Yes, I've lost people, and yes, I still carry them in my heart, but I don't regret loving them. I cherish the years I had with them, and I remember the happy times we had together. Besides, even if I didn't, none of that applies to you and me. We're both immortal, remember?"

"As if I could forget," said Edmond darkly. The weight of all those years felt like a chain around his neck.

"So why are you so convinced that we can't be happy together?" said Caoimhe.

"Because nothing lasts forever," Edmond said, thinking of something Ysanne used to say. "Even between vampires."

Caoimhe shook her head again. "I know how much you've been through, and I know how much you're still hurting, but that's nonsense."

Edmond met her eyes. "You asked me if I loved you, but the reality is that I don't ever want to fall in love again."

"But . . . you don't have any control over that. No one does," said Caoimhe, putting her hands on Edmond's knees.

There wasn't much he could say to that. Caoimhe was safe to be with – they enjoyed each other's company, both in and out of the bedroom, and Edmond genuinely cared about her. But if those feelings ever became something deeper, then he'd have no choice but to leave, because he absolutely would not give his heart to someone.

Not again.

Not ever.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Shadows gathered in Caoimhe's eyes. "Are you saying that you won't allow yourself to fall in love with me?"

"I won't allow myself to fall in love with anyone," Edmond said.

Caoimhe leaned back, gazing at Edmond as if she'd never seen him before. "Then what are we doing?"

Edmond chose his words carefully because something was shifting between them, and he wasn't sure what it was or where things would go from here.

"I thought that we were enjoying ourselves, and . . ." He trailed off because he didn't know where to take that sentence.

He'd been with Caoimhe for the better part of five years. He loved her company, he loved how she supported him, and with her he'd finally come to rediscover the emotional side of sex – something he thought he'd lost when he'd brought so many girls into his bed back in Paris. He did love her. But he wasn't in love with her, and that was the issue.

"I'd like to be completely clear about something. These last few weeks I've wanted to discuss our future, because I want more than what we have," Caoimhe said. "But I realise now that you don't. You're happy for things to stay exactly as they are, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And you really thought that would last forever?"

"No," he admitted, because how could it? He couldn't spend his entire life with someone that he'd never truly love, and even if he could, it was too much to ask of Caoimhe – especially in light of what she'd told him tonight.

Caoimhe's jaw was tight, as if she was holding herself together, and Edmond felt a hot rush of guilt. How could he have been so blind to her real feelings? How had it never occurred to him that she might feel more for him than he did for her?

If anything, this only cemented his conviction that vampires weren't meant to have happy endings.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Caoimhe closed her eyes for a long moment. "It's hardly your fault that you don't love me."

"I'm sorry that it didn't occur to me that you did. I'm sorry that I didn't make it clear from the start that I'd never want more."

When Caoimhe opened her eyes, there was the faintest sheen of red as she blinked back tears, but her voice was steady. "I don't blame you. But I can't do this anymore. I can't be with you when I know that you'll never love me. It's not fair."

"I wouldn't ask you to," said Edmond quietly.

"I know."

They sat in silence for a while, still facing each other, and Edmond felt the tug of immortal exhaustion. He'd never meant to hurt Caoimhe, but he'd done it regardless, and now he'd have to leave her. that was what he'd felt shifting between them.

Caoimhe deserved to be loved, and Edmond couldn't give her that. That meant the time had come for them to part – they couldn't possibly go back to how things had been now that they both knew how they really felt.

But leaving her would still hurt.

"Do something for me, Edmond Dantès," she said, cupping his face. "Try to be happy. Try to love again, when you meet the right person."

Edmond started to shake his head, but Caoimhe held his face still.

"Please, just try. I don't expect it to happen immediately, but do not think that you don't deserve a happy ending, because you do. You do, and even if you won't find it with me, I believe that you will find it."

Edmond didn't, but there was no need to say that. He covered her hand with his own.

"I'll try," he said.

It was the first time he'd lied to her, and the words tasted sour.

Caoimhe leaned in and kissed him, a gentle press of her lips. Their last kiss.

"Be happy," she said again, her thumb stroking his cheek as she looked into his eyes.

Edmond nodded, but he couldn't bring himself to lie again.

He couldn't, wouldn't, love again.

I've decided to make this a double update day, so the next story is going up now :)