England, 1971

The rain sounded like gunshots on the roof of the small B&B.

Ysanne sat on the foot of the bed she shared with Isabeau. Isabeau stood by the window, looking out at the grey sheets of rain.

The mood was tense.

"Things have changed, haven't they?" Ysanne said at last, unable to bear the silence anymore.

Outside their room, old floorboards creaked as another guest walked past, and Isabeau shot the door an irritated look.

It had been two years since they'd left London. They were getting noticed, and whenever that happened, it was time to move on. Every vampire knew that – Isabeau included – and it certainly wasn't the first time either of them had had to pull up roots and move on, but Isabeau was taking it particularly hard this time.

She had loved London, and Ysanne would have done anything to make it so that Isabeau could stay. But some things were beyond even Ysanne Moreau.

They hadn't moved anywhere permanently, instead falling back into the way of life that was so familiar to vampires – travelling around the country with no real sense of direction.

Once, Ysanne suspected that Isabeau would have been fine with this.

Now she wasn't.

The world had changed again. The musical revolution, sexual freedom, and fabulous fashions of the 60s had given way to strikes and economical turmoil and the grim sense that the decadent, hedonistic atmosphere of the previous decade was over at last.

"Isabeau, say something," Ysanne said.

They'd been staying in the B&B for a week, and even though the bed they shared was small, it felt like there was a great chasm between them every time they went to sleep.

"What do you want me to say?" said Isabeau dully, turning back to the window.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"I think you're mad. How can you look at the world and think it's time for vampires to reveal ourselves? As women, we're not even allowed in a Wimpy Bar by ourselves after midnight. As queer people, we're still facing brutalisation by the police, and discrimination in all other areas of life. You and I are nowhere near close to enjoying equal rights with straight human men, and you seriously think that the world is ready to know about vampires?"

"When we first met, you asked if I thought vampires would ever be able to freely walk among humans, and I said yes. You've always known I believe this," Ysanne reminded her.

"But not now!" Isabeau exclaimed, whirling around.

"Isabeau, I'm not suggesting that we immediately out ourselves. All I'm asking is that we discuss it."

"What is there to discuss?" Isabeau snapped. "You're the one who warned me that I still needed to be careful when we were partying in London. Have you forgotten that?"

"No," Ysanne said. "But I think things have changed since then."

"They have, and not for the better." Isabeau slumped against the wall, hugging herself. "I thought the 60s had opened up a brighter future for everyone, but it was just a dream, wasn't it?"

"Nothing lasts forever," Ysanne said.

Isabeau made a disgusted noise.

Irritation sparked. "You seem to be blaming me for this. I have no control over how the world turns."

"I'm not blaming you."

"But you are. Ma belle, you haven't been the same since we left London, and I'm tired of pretending otherwise. When I first met you, you saw the world as something beautiful. You helped me to see it that way. And now?" Ysanne spread her hands. "You're angry, and maybe you don't mean to take it out on me, but that's what you're doing."

She didn't blame Isabeau.

The 60s had truly sparked change in Britain, and for Isabeau it had been a glorious, vibrant dream. Now the dream was over, and the world looked greyer and bleaker than it had in years. The things that Isabeau had loved were falling apart, and there was nothing Ysanne could do to fix them.

She knew how it felt to be angry with the world, to question the point of her own immortality. She knew how it felt to see everything come crashing down, to become so tired of the world, but when she'd felt like that in the past, she had always been alone.

"Tell me, ma belle, what did you think when you saw me?" Ysanne asked.

Isabeau didn't look at her, focusing on the worn wooden floor beneath her feet. "I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

Ysanne kept her gaze carefully neutral, even though Isabeau wasn't looking at her. "And now?"

Isabeau finally lifted her head, locking eyes with Ysanne. "I still think that. But it's not enough, is it?" she said, her voice raw.

Ysanne didn't know how to answer that. Her feelings for Isabeau hadn't changed – she was as passionate for the other woman as she had been the night they met. But distance had grown between them.

Ysanne saw hope in the world. Human beings had just put a man on the moon – on the moon.

Maybe the human race still had a way to go, but she had to believe that things were improving, even if sometimes it seemed like they were sliding backwards.

But Isabeau didn't see hope in the world, not anymore. Her joy and brightness had faded, leaving something sad and grey in its place, and she could no longer muster any faith in vampires ever being able to come out of the shadows.

That was the bone of contention between them.

Ysanne had hoped that Isabeau would work with her to explore the possibility of vampires finally revealing themselves. It didn't have to be this decade, or even the next one, but it was something they should be discussing.

But Isabeau had no interest in discussing it.

"It seemed that once we were walking the same road together. And now we're not, are we? Our paths have diverged, Isabeau, and I can't see how to get them back together. We want different things. We believe in different things."

Isabeau said nothing.

A heavy weight settled on Ysanne's heart.

This was it, then.

They had loved each other, fiercely and desperately, but life was pulling them in different directions, and if they didn't accept that, then the last shreds of love between them would fester and turn sour. Ysanne couldn't bear that. She would rather take a knife to their connection, here and now, than wait for it to wither away.

"I think it's time for me to go," she said.

"Nothing lasts forever, right?" said Isabeau bitterly.

"It seems not."

That hurt more than she thought it would. There had been a time when she wondered if, in Isabeau, she had finally found something that would last forever. She'd been wrong.

Ysanne climbed off the bed and started to quietly pack a bag. Isabeau's eyes weighed heavily on her the whole time, but she didn't say a word.

What else was there to say?

Ysanne would not give up her belief that vampires had a real future with the human race, not even for Isabeau.

All too soon, her bag was packed and slung over her shoulder. The bed stood between them, a yawning chasm that neither of them knew how to cross.

"Isabeau," Ysanne started, then stopped.

She simply didn't know what to say.

She'd lost lovers before; she should be used to this pain. But she wasn't. It felt like a blade was twisting in her heart.

Isabeau looked away.

Ysanne wanted to kiss her. She wanted to run her fingers through those silken curls, to taste those sweet lips, to push her onto the bed and run her hands over those soft curves, to pull the covers over their heads and pretend that nothing outside this room existed.

But those days were over now.

Nothing lasted forever.

"Goodbye, Isabeau," she whispered.

Still, Isabeau said nothing. Her arms were tightly wrapped around her stomach, her mouth a bloodless line.

Ysanne turned and left the room.

No one paid her any attention as she quietly made her way down the stairs and out of the back door, and it was only then, when there was no one to see her, that she let out a sharp gasp and sagged against the wall, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

It would have been easier to walk away if she no longer loved Isabeau.

But she did love her.

It felt like she'd ripped her heart out of her chest and left it on the bed in that room upstairs, with Isabeau.

"You'll just have to learn to live without a heart, then," she fiercely told herself.

Pulling her bag higher on her shoulder, she began to walk away from the B&B.

If she had looked back, she would have seen the curtains part upstairs. She would have seen Isabeau standing at the window, reddish tears running down her face.

But she didn't look back.

Part 4/4

Next week we're going waaaaaay back in time to meet a human Ysanne :)