This message sent by: PPEP03A@prodigy.com ( M DECKER) I finally finished another story about our favorite duo, so I thought I'd better start posting it. This is my version (doesn't everyone do one?) of exorcising LK in my mind. I hope you all enjoy it. Actually, I think LK was probably a bad dream of LaCroix', but better be safe than sorry. I want to give a large thank you to April H., who took the time and effort to edit this story. Thanks again, April. The characters portrayed are the property of Sony/Tristar, James Parriott, etc. I'm just enjoying them. Permission to archive at JADFE. N/LC Just lots of angst this installment ------------------------------------- End Game (01/?) by Merle D He screamed as the stake was ripped from his body, yet the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony that tore at his soul. Freed from his cruel restraint, he staggered to his feet. Already he could feel the abused flesh and sinew begin to heal, pulling together. "Damn you, LaCroix..." He launched himself at his master, but was easily restrained by two inhumanly strong arms. "Stop this, Nicholas." The voice was so calm, so reasonable, it enraged him. When he had regained consciousness, the first thing that filtered through his pain-hazed awareness was that Natalie's body was gone. He was also totally and absolutely alone. Futilely, he had struggled to release himself from the stake, but it was driven too deeply into the floor and he was too weakened by blood loss to succeed. He could only stare for what seemed like eternity at the spot where she had been, wondering what LaCroix was doing with her. A burial-- or something worse? Then for a short while he imagined this was hell, and he would be forced to stare at this spot until Judgment Day. Now he was freed, and he was just as impotent. "Why didn't you kill me as I asked?" he snarled into his master's face. "Do you truly want death so much?" "I promised... Where did you take her?" "Why do you wish to know? So in some grand melodramatic gesture you can die by her side?" He sighed, keeping his grip on his son no matter how hard the boy struggled. "Ah, Nicholas, I'm afraid I must deny you that." He paused, then released him so suddenly he almost fell to his knees. "You can find her 'body' at Mercy General Hospital. Probably receiving blood transfusions at this very moment." "What?" Nick whispered, wondering if he had gone mad, or the other had. "I believe you heard me correctly. I sensed a small flicker of life in her, so I took the chance that her infallible mortal medicine might be her savior." "She's not dead?" "I cannot promise she will live, but she was alive when I left her at the hospital." There was a terrible look in LaCroix's eyes as he continued. "I could not lose you, Nicholas. Not that way." The reason for his death suddenly taken from him left him feeling as if he were hanging in limbo. Neither in heaven nor hell, he was caught somewhere between the two. He stared at his master as he tried to assimilate this new reality, this newborn hope. "You... you took her to Mercy?" "Yes, Nicholas. She is there now," he said slowly, as if knowing he was dealing with someone in a state of shock. "She was reported as a victim of an assault. At least that is the story I told the attendants." "I need to go to her..." That single thought was his focus on sanity. "Yes, go. I will take care of the details." "Details?" he asked, dazed. LaCroix bent and picked up Natalie's purse. Opening it, he slipped her wallet into his jacket pocket. "I will move her car and leave evidence of an assault and robbery." He nodded numbly as he started for the door. All he knew at this moment was that he had to be with her. "Nicholas." He turned and stared at LaCroix. "Hadn't you best change first?" He looked down at his blood soaked clothing and the large, gaping hole in his shirt. A second later LaCroix was gone. He stared up at the skylight and whispered, "Thank you-- father." ----------------------------------------------------- Nick looked down at Natalie's quiet, white face and felt numb. Underneath it all he could still feel the pain, waiting like some chained beast to break free. It reminded him of the clinical description of trauma, when the body shuts down temporarily as the pain becomes too severe. , he told her. He reached out and gently took hold of her hand, careful not to disturb the IV. The white bandaging around her throat drew his eyes, damning him for all eternity. "I just couldn't..." "Knight?" He turned and found Reese's worried eyes on him. His Captain had been informed concerning Natalie's condition and had come to join him in his vigil. Was it only hours ago that they had met over Tracy's dying form in this very hospital? This day had been like some horrible nightmare, but somehow he wasn't waking up. He carefully let go of Natalie's hand. "Yeah, Captain?" "Are you going to be okay?" He just shook his head. "You need to go home and get some rest." "I can't." "Don't worry," the large man said with feeling, "we'll get the sick son-of-a-bitch who did this. I've already put some of my best men on it." Nick turned abruptly away, feeling physically ill. Reese placed his hand on his shoulder, adding consolingly, "The doctors already told you, she's going to be all right. You've got to have faith, Nick." The vampire cringed at the innocently voiced word. His faith had been killed tonight, and he doubted he would ever get it back. "I know she'll be all right. Thanks to that Good Samaritan." He never would have thought of LaCroix in quite those terms, but tonight his master had earned that, and more-- his undying gratitude. "I just wish he had stayed around so we could get his statement. Now we'll just have to wait for Natalie to tell us what happened." He briefly touched her cool cheek with a gentle caress in farewell, then sighed. "Yeah. Maybe I will go home..." ----------------------------------------------------- Dawn was only another half-hour away when Nick stood in his apartment and stared down at the stained floor darkened with his blood. It was where he had almost killed Natalie. He was hungry, oh so hungry, but the idea of what was needed to slake that hunger repelled him. It would be better to starve. It was then that the pain finally broke free and Nick howled his agony to the silent room. Grabbing a chair, he threw it across the chamber where it crashed with the sound of splintering wood against the far wall. A table followed. When he finally came to himself, he found himself kneeling in the midst of the carnage he had wrought of his home. The mindless destruction surrounding him seemed like a fit reflection of his life. He couldn't stay here; he had to get away. Blindly, without thought, he somehow found himself outside the Raven as the first pale glow in the east lightened the sky. It was instinct alone that drove him inside, for if he had really been thinking he might have met the rays of the sun with open arms. LaCroix was sitting at the bar as if waiting for him. "Nicholas." The velvet tone wrapped around his soul like a balm. He settled himself next to his master, keeping his eyes lowered. "And how is Dr. Lambert?" "She's alive," he whispered. He did look up then into LaCroix's pale, blue eyes. "Thanks to you." "You're tired, Nicholas. Why don't you rest." "I shouldn't have come here, but I couldn't stay at my place. Not after..." "Nonsense," the older vampire chided, standing. "You are always welcome with me. Where else would you go?" "Where else indeed," he whispered, feeling older than his eight hundred years, as he got wearily to his feet. At that moment the weakness hit and his knees started to fold under him. He doubled over with a gasp as his body finally paid the price for losing so much blood. Before he could fall, he was caught in strong arms. "Nicholas," LaCroix's voice was sharp with worry, "didn't you feed after I freed you?" "No," he whispered. "I couldn't..." "You fool," he growled angrily, as he scooped his errant son into his arms and carried him upstairs to his private apartment. Allowing himself to relax against the familiar warmth, he rested his head on LaCroix's shoulder. For once, it was a relief to simply let go. ----------------------------------------------------- LaCroix looked down at the blond head sheltered on his shoulder and felt a strange pang twist somewhere in the general vicinity of his heart. Part of him wished he could simply hold his child, stroke away all the pain and sorrow he could feel vibrating through their bond, but he had to move carefully here. He could sense Nicholas was at a turning point, and something as small as a poorly misjudged word or action on his part might lose him his son forever. As a soldier, he knew when care should be taken, when a frontal assault was unwise. This was a battle he was not prepared to lose. Carefully, he laid his son on the couch. "LaCroix," Nicholas whispered. "Hush, now," he soothed, going over to a sideboard. Pouring a full glass of blood into a goblet, he returned to the couch. "This will make you feel better." His son turned his head away. "I can't..." "Yes, you can." He sat down on the edge of the sofa and, supporting Nicholas' head with one arm, held the glass to his lips with his free hand. "I will not see you starve. As I do not have any of your odious cow blood in my home, you must take what I offer. Now, drink!" He would humor him today, but not into the realm of idiocy. Rebellious blue eyes stared up at him, then faltered under his gaze. "You're right. What does it matter now, anyway." Accepting the offering, the other vampire drained the contents in famished gulps. LaCroix returned to the wine bottle and filled the glass again. By the time he returned to the couch with the glass and the rest of the bottle, Nicholas had already regained enough strength to lever himself up into a sitting position. The younger vampire took the glass with only a moment's hesitation and drank. Sitting down beside him, he watched as color started returning to the pale cheeks as the blood started taking effect. After his son had finished off the bottle, he asked, "Better?" "Yes," Nick whispered, closing his eyes. "I can feel your pain," LaCroix soothed, sliding his hand onto his son's shoulder. He wanted to lecture, to shout, to tell Nicholas he was being a fool, but for once realized it would kill whatever chance he had of winning this battle-- and the war. The elder man could feel the other trembling under his light touch, but before he could say anything else, Nicholas leaned into him, burying his face against his neck, one hand tightly gripping his shirt. He was more than a little startled at the action, and the vulnerability it indicated. Not one to let an opportunity pass, he wrapped his child in a tight embrace. "Let me in, mon fils," he whispered into the soft blond hair. "I can help if you will let me." Suddenly, the walls crumbled and a wave of emotions-- pain, guilt, self-hatred-- poured over him like a scalding flood. Drawing on skills unused for centuries, he struggled with the torrent, attempting to wrest control of Nicholas' unrestrained emotions and unshielded will. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but the stakes were worth it. He would reclaim what belonged to him, or be damned, he vowed, as he opened himself to his son. Whatever the price, he would pay it to regain what was rightfully his. ---------------------------------------------------- He was damned. He was burning in hell. 'Is there no salvation for such as he?', Nicholas cried to the god whom he had abandoned. He was not surprised when there was no answer. Heaven would not answer a lost soul. He was alone with the unending pain. <> <> Nick silently cried, wondering if God had heard him after all. <> He knew that voice. <> <> Even as he said it, he realized he no longer knew why. <> The voice beckoned to him from the darkness beyond the flames. It would be cool there, and he was so very alone. He was tired of aching in loneliness. There was peace and a safe haven being offered in that voice and a surcease from pain. <> The voice was filled with such love and caring he could barely recognize it. It was filled with the promise of release from this hell. And he was so very tired. <> he whispered to the soothing dark, in acceptance. ------------------------------------------------------ How long they sat there engaged in this mental dialogue he had no idea. It was only when Nicholas' hand slowly loosened its deathlike hold on his shirt and came to rest with outstretched palm on his chest, that he came back to himself. "LaCroix..." The word was said so softly even he could barely hear it. "Yes," he offered in confirmation. "Why?" "I think you know." "I don't want to know." Nicholas kept his eyes closed, as if not wanting to see him. Yet, he did not try to withdraw from the enclosing circle of his arms. The bond between them was still wide open, as it had never been before in all their long centuries together. All the walls erected on LaCroix's side had been lowered. Never had he ever allowed himself to be this vulnerable-- to anyone. The sensation made him feel naked, more than simply being without clothes. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted his cold, hard walls breached, but realized fatalistically that it was already too late; his choice had been made. "Perhaps not. But it is there, nonetheless." "I'm so tired." It was as if the weight of eternity was in that whisper. It was an acknowledgment on many levels, LaCroix realized with sudden clarity. "I know. Why don't you rest now." Nicholas finally opened his eyes and stared up at him. "I'm afraid to dream." "I will be there to guard you. There is nothing to fear." "Except for you..." Then the blue eyes closed and Nicholas relaxed totally against him. Bringing one hand up to the fair head, he began to gently stroke the soft strands of hair, remembering how he had once so loved to do this. He could feel the exhaustion pulling at the younger vampire, and he ordered through the bond, <> ----------------------------------------------- Nick woke gradually. He felt warm and safe, the latter sensation something he had not felt for a very long time. He was also resting on something that was not his pillow. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking into the sleeping face of Lucien LaCroix. Suddenly, he was very much awake. He was lying on a bed, head resting comfortably on the other man's shoulder, while a large portion of his body was draped over the other. His right hand, resting easily on LaCroix's chest, was held in a firm clasp by the other's larger hand. It was a small, but real, relief to find they were both fully dressed. Then the events of the night came back into crystal focus. Part of him screamed to leap up, remove himself from this situation, while another part remembered happier days and how he would often waken after their day's sleep, held safe in his master's arms. Closing his eyes, he relaxed back against the solid form, letting himself enjoy this momentary weakness. When he finally opened his eyes again, he met the ice blue, wide-awake eyes of LaCroix. "Good evening, Nicholas," the older vampire greeted him. He didn't know what to say, but simply stared at him. LaCroix finally released his hand, bringing it up to caress his cheek. "I..." The words fumbled and died on his tongue. "At a loss for words? That is not like you." He gave his father a small but genuine smile. "After last night, 'thank you' seems inadequate." He had been to hell and back, and was probably still sane because of his own personal devil. At the very least, he could offer him his due. "Then I believe the term is-- you owe me one." "I guess I do," he finally acknowledged. "That, at least, is a beginning." Of what, he was afraid to ask. "So, what are you going to do?" What he felt like doing was to stay right here, letting LaCroix hold him and keep the world away. "Go to the hospital." He sighed, slowly levering himself to a seated position. "I have to see how Nat is doing." "Ah." LaCroix sat up, then rose easily to his feet. "And work?" He stood by the edge of the bed looking down at him. "Reese told me to take a few days off. Tracy..." He couldn't finish the sentence. It still seemed impossible that his young, vibrant partner was dead. "It seems I'm under investigation because of the shooting. I don't think they want me in right now." LaCroix's eyebrow rose questioningly, but mercifully did not probe any further on that painful subject. He simply asked, "Then you will be going home now?" He looked down at his rumpled clothing, then thought about his wrecked home and the memories that still crowded like ghosts between those four walls. "I can't..." He glanced down at his hands. "Not yet." Maybe not ever. "Would you like me to pick you up a change of clothing for later?" LaCroix asked smoothly, as if knowing his thoughts. "And if you wish... you can stay here with me." The last was said so hesitantly it made him look up, tears suddenly stinging his eyes. "If you still want me. After what I asked of you..." Looking back, he still could not believe he had asked his father to kill him. "Enough, Nicholas. It is past. I will always want you. Don't you know that by now?" He bowed his head for a moment, suddenly feeling very small. Then, as a mental warmth flowed over and through him, he realized their bond was still wide open. He looked up into those penetratingly pale eyes. After all this time, and all the hurt between them, it felt strange to crave this closeness. "It's an insane world, isn't it?" "It's taken you eight hundred years to discover that?" the older vampire said in mock dismay. "An insane world, created by an insane god." He turned and left the room. He couldn't let himself believe the latter, or what was the point of any of his pain and struggle? Yet, last night's events had shaken that belief, perhaps beyond the point of any recovery. --------------------------------------------------- LaCroix flew to Nicholas' apartment after his son had departed for the hospital. When he entered, he was shocked at the state of the place. "My, my, Nicholas," he muttered as he stepped over part of the piano. "You have been busy." The level of destruction amazed him, but after experiencing the depth of his son's pain last night, part of him was not really surprised at this direct physical expression. Nicholas' passionate nature was part of what made him so desirable, yet it had its negative side as well. He bent, picking up a shard of an antique vase. "What a waste," he muttered, letting it drop to the floor. Though it was better some invaluable artifact be destroyed like this, than that which was infinitely more precious. He only hoped that the damage done to his sensitive child's heart would heal. At least, last night's catharsis was a beginning. Then something occurred to him and with a slight frown he headed for a special place. -------------------------- The hospital's visiting hours was still in effect, so there was a constant flow of people in the corridors. Nick stopped momentarily outside the room, nerving himself for this meeting, dreading it more than anything he ever had to face before. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he entered. The unoccupied bed of the night before now had an occupant. The privacy curtain was pulled between the two beds, hiding Natalie from sight. A very old woman stared at him blankly as he passed her. He watched as spittle formed at the corner of her toothless mouth then slowly traveled down her chin. She did not wipe it away. He shuddered. Then he was past the curtain. Natalie was propped up in bed, head turned so she could look out the window. The IVs were gone, as well as all the other monitoring equipment. Her hair formed a soft halo around her face, almost hiding the stark white bandages from sight. "Nat." She turned and her eyes widened. It felt as if a knife had suddenly been thrust into his heart when he saw fear in those eyes. It was almost immediately hidden, as she said softly, "Nick, thank God." Her faster than normal heartbeat was telling him she was still afraid. "Are you okay?" "Am *I*...?" He could not believe she was asking how he was doing, when she was the one who had almost died. Even after his terrible betrayal, it was obvious she still cared about him. It made him want to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. "It doesn't matter about me. You're all that's important." "Of course it matters," she said sharply. "Are you all right?" "I think I'm beginning to be," he slowly admitted, trying to be as honest as he could. He was still hurting, but the constant soothing comfort of his bond with LaCroix gave him something solid to which to cling. "After seeing you alive, that is." "Good." She gave him a weak smile. "I was really worried about you." "Nat, don't..." "Before you say any more, I want to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you into this. It was..." "Stop it!" he ground out, cutting into her flow of words. "It was my responsibility. Mine! If I-- if I hadn't been playing my usual stupid game of denial I would have understood what would happen. What's always happened when I try to get too close to a mortal." "Denial?" she whispered. "Denial-- of what I am." The woman in the bed behind the curtain was obviously in no condition to report what she heard, but hospital personnel might come in at any moment, so he had to be guarded in what he said. "I should never, ever forget that very important fact. I'm not like everyone else. And as long as I'm not..." "We can never be together." Natalie finished the sentence for him, denial of her own kind reflected in her eyes. "Yes." That one word was so cold and final, he felt the need for contact. He reached out and took hold of her small, warm hand. "I'm not even proud of how I handled things-- after. If it had been up to me, you'd be dead." "Oh, come on, Nick. You got me to the hospital in time." "It wasn't me. I was too busy wallowing in my usual sea of self-destructive guilt." "What?" She looked a little stunned at his confession. "Then who...?" "LaCroix. If it wasn't for him, we'd both be dead." "Oh, damn," she whispered, pulling her hand out of his. "You mean he's the one who got me here?" "Yes." "I don't know if I want to be indebted to Lucien LaCroix. For anything. And what was he doing there in the first place?" He noticed her voice was rising. "Natalie, keep it down." Part of what he said earlier finally registered. "What did you mean, we'd both be dead, Nick?" The look of fear was back in her eyes. At that moment, a familiar voice was heard. "Hey, are you here, Nat?" Grace poked her head around the corner. The large black woman grinned, and held out a huge bouquet of mixed flowers. "Grace... Uh, hi." Natalie managed to pull her flustered countenance together with remarkable skill. "Yep, I'm here all right. Come on in." Nick hoped his own face was under as much control. "You're looking just fine, girl," Grace smiled, laying a small kiss on the other woman's cheek. "Uh, I'd better be going," Nick managed to get out, hoping he sounded normal. "Hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Grace stared at him apologetically, as if realizing she indeed had interrupted something. "No, I've got to be going anyway," he said, trying to make it sound light. "Nick..." Natalie looked as if she wanted to say more, but then realized he was already moving towards the door. "We'll talk later. Okay?" "Yeah," he said, giving what he hoped was a convincing smile. "Later." ---------------------------------------------------- He stood outside the hospital and stared up at the moon. It was almost full, he noted distantly. This was all the light he could ever hope for now, he realized with a strange fatality. Dead, everything was dead -- his dreams, his hopes for mortality. Even Janette's way of coming back over had been denied him. Thank God Natalie had not paid that price. He suddenly acknowledged LaCroix had been right-- his dream had been a fool's quest. He launched himself into the sky. For a time he few aimlessly, then instinct took over. He landed on a familiar forested hill and stared down at a still lake filled with stars. He hadn't consciously headed here, but somehow his heart had brought him to his special place, a place far away from the noise and confusion of the city. Time passed as he wandered on familiar paths, struggling with his demons, trying to work out what he was going to do with the ruins of his dreams. Guilt was there, but mostly, it was the overwhelming sense of loneliness that tore at him. Everyone he had ever loved or cared for had left him-- either through death or abandonment. Even Janette, whom he had loved for so very, very long had again gone her own way. That had probably been the hardest blow to bear, although he could understand her anger and her sense of betrayal when he had brought her back across. And Natalie. Beautiful, warm Natalie in another way was slipping away from him just as quickly. What had happened last night had created a chasm between them that could never be crossed. The idea of an eternity alone, without love, was a thought almost too painful to bear. It would be better to be dead. Then, at his lowest emotional ebb, a single realization cleared his thoughts. There was one person who had never left him, who had always been there even when he had tried with all his strength to drive him away. Even after he had tried to kill his sire, LaCroix had still not abandoned him. Call it possession, love or obsession which drove his master, or some dreadful mixture of all three, but he knew it was directed solely at him. For so long he had rejected this knowledge, feared it, yet now it seemed to be the one solid thing in his life to which he could cling. He laughed aloud at the bitter irony of it all, and the dreadful sound was swallowed by the night. ----------------------------------------------------- Hours later, he found himself again at the top of the hill. From this vantage point, he commanded a clear view of the lake whose water now shimmered like liquid silver in the moonlight. As he stood there, soothed by the beauty of the time and place, he sensed a familiar presence. Actually, it had been there for some time, but he only registered it now. He turned and looked into the black, cloaking shadows of the trees. "LaCroix?" The tall, imposing figure emerged into the pale light. A sudden cloud floated in front of the moon, throwing him into momentary darkness before drawing him back into the light as it passed. "I hope I am not intruding. But I felt-- I thought you might need me." In fact, the sight of his master brought to his heart a feeling he had thought forever dead. "I'm glad you're here," he confessed softly. "Ah." The ancient one joined him and, together, they stared down at the silver lake. Like two statues they watched the light and shadow playing on the water, not speaking as the minutes passed. A gust of wind brought the fresh scents of the forest to both their predator's senses, stirring old memories. Off in the distance an owl cried its lonely sound. "You know this place," LaCroix offered softly, the first to break the silence. "Yes." A small smile formed on his lips. "I discovered it a couple of years ago when I was on a case. Now, I come here whenever I can get away. I can think here. Let go of things when they become too much for me." He sighed. "Like now." "And has it worked, Nicholas?" the tall vampire asked calmly, turning to study him. He started back down the path. "Come on, I'd like to show you something." ------------------------------------------------------ Nicholas was being his usual, unpredictable self, LaCroix thought with a combination of fondness and irritation, as he followed his son's lead. Reaching the bottom of the hill, they turned left, plunging back into the forest. "Where are we going, Nicholas?" he asked patiently. The fair head turned and gave him a small smile. "Wait and see." He sighed, hoping the other wasn't going to test his patience too far. At that moment, they entered a wide-open meadow. In the midst of it, stood a large stone mansion, its tall facade and sightless windows staring down at them. Nicholas stood still, looking up at the deserted building. "When I first saw it, it reminded me of home," he said rather wistfully. "Pseudo Gothic," LaCroix decided at first glance. "Late nineteenth century." He looked at his son with an upraised eyebrow. "1884. A mining magnate built it for his wife, but she died before he completed it," Nick said softly, walking up the broad stone steps to the terrace. The shreds of curtains were blowing in the wind through one pair of wide open french doors. He led the way inside, where they found themselves inside a ballroom. "This reminds me of more civilized days," LaCroix said softly in reminiscence, looking around the large, mirrored room. "Remember Vienna... and Paris? The men dressed in their uniforms and tuxedos. The women in their long dresses and jewels." Nicholas' voice had turned dreamy. "And the music... There always seemed to be music and laughter, then." "Yes." LaCroix remembered those times. "So fragile, those days. A delightful, delicate dream before the War." It was also when his Nicholas had actively started to flee him and to rage against his existence. "I wish they had been happier for both of us." The younger vampire turned and stared at him. "So do I." Then he moved to a window and stared out across the ruins of what had been a wide lawn to the lake. "I found out last year that a corporation was going to buy this place. They planned to tear the house down, developing the land, and harvesting the timber." He moved to stand at his son's side, studying the beautiful features. "And?" Even after all these centuries he still derived great pleasure in simply looking at the other man's face and body. The blond vampire gave a small laugh. "Sometimes it comes in handy to have money." "You bought it, then?" "The De Brabant Foundation did." LaCroix did not reply, but simply studied him, waiting for him to get around to what it was he really wanted to broach. Hopefully, it was something he wanted to hear. Last night, it had felt as if his son had begun the journey back to him. Even earlier this evening, when they had awakened and talked, the feeling of closeness had remained. Nicholas sighed. "I can feel you... " "Just as I can feel you. I have missed this between us." Nicholas turned his clear, blue eyes on him. "It hurt to shut you out." "At first. I believe you discovered constructing and maintaining your walls became easier over time." He could not keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "No, never easier. I just knew I had to do it if I was going to break free of you." He felt a fierce exaltation rush through him, but restrained himself from taunting his favorite with his failure aloud. "And once you no longer have need of me, will you erect the walls again between us?" He looked away. "LaCroix," he whispered softly, "I've been..." He shook his head suddenly, and turned back to him. "I'd like to show you the rest of the house, if that's all right with you?" He had a sudden urge to shake his son and command him to get to the point. Even someone with his years, however, could still learn from past mistakes, so he simply shrugged and motioned for Nicholas to proceed. ----------------------------------------------------- Nick led his Master through the old home, which was slowly decaying from neglect, time, and the elements. It was quiet in the halls and empty rooms. Only their footfalls and the sound of the wind through broken windows and the cracks in the walls disturbed the silence. Somehow, this ruin reminded him of himself. It also needed to be reclaimed from its fate. There would be life and light inside these walls again, he vowed. LaCroix remained silent, simply looking at what he was shown during his tour. This silence was one of the things Nick missed when among humans. Because their lives were so short, he sometimes felt as if they were trying to cram all their feelings and ideas and dreams into a constant noise. Their incessant chatter was one of the hardest things he had to get used to when living among them. Sharing the quiet with LaCroix was soothing. ---------------------------------------------------- LaCroix could sense the night was drawing to an end as they returned to the ballroom. The time spent with his son had been peaceful, a rare enough occurrence, but he was still no closer to learning what was going on in that blond head than when he had first arrived. "Time to return home," he pronounced softly. Nicholas sniffed the air. "Yes. I believe you're right." "So, are you going to tell me?" he prompted. The younger vampire touched his companion's arm, softly stroking the black leather for a moment. "It's so strange being here with you like this. Particularly after being at such odds over the years." Driving a stake through his heart was a bit beyond 'being at odds', he thought, but since he had magnanimously decided to forgive him, he wouldn't bring it up. "Things change. And one always hopes for the better." "But that hope often proves false." Nicholas let the silence stretch between them before adding softly, "You know, I thought death was my answer. I wanted it all to end when I asked you to stake me. I couldn't face the idea of going on when I thought I had-- had killed Natalie." LaCroix could feel his hands clench into fists, his nails biting painfully into the palms of his hands. That was one choice he would deny his son, even if he had to lock him away for eternity. "The only problem is, I don't believe it would be the end. I believe in Hell, LaCroix. And I know I would be damned, for all of Natalie's talk of a merciful, forgiving God." He whispered the last sentence, closing his eyes as if in pain. Then, Nicholas opened his clear blue eyes and regarded him with a softness his master had never seen before. "Thank you for saving me from that." "Even though I am the one you blame for this state." He still did not believe in the ex-Crusader's vision of the afterlife, but if it kept him from doing something foolish, he would not argue it overmuch. "Once. Now I only blame myself. It was, after all, my choice." "That is what life is, mon fils-- a series of choices. We are all locked in by these choices. Both the good and the bad ones." He paused before adding, "Even I." Looking back over the last few centuries there had been so many of his own choices which had been poorly considered when dealing with Nicholas, and they had almost lost him his son forever. Now all he could do was hope it was not too late to start anew with wiser ones. So it would seem," Nicholas agreed quietly. "Now it seems I must choose again." Here was the crux of the matter, LaCroix thought, holding his breath as he waited. "For over a century now, I've tried to regain my mortality, and I'm no closer now than when I started. In some ways I feel I'm even further away from my goal than when I began. And in all that time I've been miserable in mind and body and spirit." "Will you become angry if I say 'I told you so', Nicholas?" That managed to raise a rather wan smile. "Rather mild for you, isn't it?" "Haven't you noticed I've reformed?" the elder vampire asked sarcastically. If his thought had been voiced it would have been a shout. "Actually, I have." Nicholas started walking towards the open door leading to the terrace. "I want to close up before we leave." "Nicholas..." He stopped when his son turned towards him. "I'm tired, LaCroix. I'm tired of the guilt, tired of the struggle." His son's voice suddenly sounded weary unto death and it echoed the feeling shivering along their bond. "And I've been so lonely. Empty inside for so long." "You don't have to be." This confession was surprising considering the role Dr. Lambert had filled in Nicholas' life, but it gave LaCroix renewed hope. He wanted to be the one to fill his son's needs, to have Nicholas turn towards him with an open heart -- to be everything to him. He found himself closing the small space separating them, taking hold of the other's hand. The touch of his flesh sent a shiver of need through him. "Neither of us do." Even such a simple confession of his own needs had not been easy for the old Roman to voice, but he also realized it was long overdue. His son's eyes met his own. "I'd be a fool to trust you, you know." Their history together lay like an open book between them, the latter pages filled with hurt piled upon pain and betrayal. "Perhaps," he conceded. he thought. "And perhaps we both have too much to lose if you do not." The younger vampire stared at him for a long moment before giving his hand a brief squeeze and then releasing it. "We'd better be getting home." "You still haven't told me what you've decided." "No, I haven't, have I?" With that, he went outside. LaCroix cursed under his breath in rather crude Latin as he followed his son onto the terrace. ------------------------------------------------ There was another hour or so before dawn when they arrived back at the Raven. The place was quiet and still, so unlike its usual state. Nicholas realized he liked it like this. He had sometimes wondered why LaCroix had planted himself in the middle of such noise and confusion, since it wasn't his usual style. Janette he understood. She had always liked the pulse and energy of the nightlife. The thought of Janette sent a pang through him, wondering where she was now and if she would ever forgive him. Hopefully, someday she would find it in her heart to do so. Eternity, at least, gave him that chance. These melancholy musings accompanied Nick as they traversed the empty main room up to LaCroix's private apartment. The older vampire led the way into the sitting room, turning on a single lamp near the door. "I retrieved some of your clothes," LaCroix offered, heading directly for the wine bottles sitting on the sideboard. "I put them away in the bedroom. I hope my selection is acceptable." "Thank you, LaCroix," he offered, following the other. "I appreciate..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the painting hanging over the fireplace. He slowly approached and stared up at it. "Janette," he breathed, looking up at the DaVinci. He sensed LaCroix move directly behind him. "I thought you might like having it near," the velvet sheathed voice whispered seductively into one ear. "It would have been a shame if it had been destroyed." LaCroix's hands came to rest lightly on his shoulders. Running on pure instinct, Nick leaned back against his master, the familiar touch singing like fresh blood through him. "It would indeed," he whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the beautiful features of his sister/daughter. It felt good to rest against LaCroix, to feel his hands on his body once again. Everything in his life somehow seemed balanced in this one moment, and he realized their next words could decide his fate. ----------------------------------------------------- "I feel you've returned to me, Nicholas." LaCroix whispered, resting his cheek against the side of his son's head, delighting in the feel of the soft, blond strands against his skin. "Is that your choice?" "I'd like it be," Nicholas finally answered. He noticed with a fierce exaltation that the other had not pulled away from his touch, but instead seemed to melt against him. The old, familiar flame of passion that he had denied himself for so many years flickered suddenly into life. "Finally." He breathed the word like the end of a prayer. Nicholas turned slowly in his grasp, so he could look up into his eyes. "But on my terms." "Indeed?" LaCroix shot back sharply. "And what would those be?" "I think you already know. There has to be a way back to the light for me, as I am, or I might as well end it all now. I'm not even sure how I'm going to do it. The only thing I do know is that I have to try." Nicholas lifted his hands to rest lightly on his master's shoulders, mirroring LaCroix's earlier touch. "If you try and deny me that..." "You'll run from me again." Nicholas nodded. "And I don't want to do that. Not now." LaCroix thought about it for a long moment. "Good. That at least is a step in the right direction." Then he added firmly, "And as long as you don't expect me to become suddenly altruistic where mortals are concerned." The younger vampire smiled and shook his head. "I don't think I'd recognize you if you did," he said softly. "But I can always hope." "Hope is one thing," he snorted, tightening his grip around his son. "Delusion is another." It was good seeing a smile on Nicholas' face that was directed at him. Suddenly the terms he had been presented with did not seem at all difficult to accept if he could have this. Without any thought behind his next action he leaned down and slowly covered Nicholas' mouth with his own. ------------------------------------------------- It would have been a lie to pretend he was surprised. The touch of LaCroix's mouth stirred old feelings deep inside him, and he was suddenly afraid. His fear, however, didn't stop him from responding to the kiss and his lips opened at the other's demand. LaCroix's tongue slipped inside and its familiar heat filled his mouth. That heat burned its way like a bolt of lightning down his body and into his groin, igniting a passion he had long denied. He groaned into LaCroix's mouth and wrapped his arms around him in a crushing embrace. Then, just as suddenly, he pushed the other vampire away. "Nicholas..." Nick turned his back to LaCroix, running his hand through his hair. "It's all happening too fast." "You want it, do you not?" Perhaps he was pushing too much, too soon, but on some primal level, LaCroix knew he was not. The soldier in him understood when to press an attack. His time was now. "Yes," he finally confessed. LaCroix placed his hands on his son's shoulders and turned him around to face him again. "Then give in to your feelings, Nicholas. To what you want. There is nothing wrong in this." Those exact words had been said to him uncounted times, but now he felt himself yielding to them. He did want this. LaCroix's hands came up and started to undo the top buttons of his shirt. "I want your blood. Just as you want mine. It has been far too long." Each touch was a small seduction and Nicholas could feel himself yielding. "I..." His voice faded away as his master slowly slid the dark material off one shoulder, baring his neck. One finger trailed along his jugular and he shivered with the sudden burst of lust the touch engendered. He suddenly realized that this closeness was satisfying a need, filling the eternal emptiness inside him. "It's your turn, I believe," LaCroix purred in his velvet-clad voice. He watched as his own hands rose and carefully undid the top fastenings of LaCroix's shirt, baring the strong column of his neck. He caressed the vulnerable flesh with a skimming touch and was amazed at how much the sensation moved him. LaCroix sighed and closed his eyes in pleasure, arching his neck slightly. "Nicholasss..." he hissed, opening his eyes and turning his golden gaze onto his lover. The fallen knight could feel his own Change sweeping over him as well and for once, he welcomed it. It was then that LaCroix pulled him back into a bruising kiss and he returned it, passion answering equally to passion. It had been so very, very long. The past was dead, he thought dimly, allowing himself to simply react on a primal level. Suddenly, he was slammed back against the fireplace and he could feel the length of the other's body pressed hard against him. Opening his legs a bit gave the other more access and the delicious sensation of LaCroix's cock grinding against his own through the layers of cloth brought a low growl of arousal to his throat. This was not gentle. This was not a symphony of soft touches and tender words. This joining would be cataclysmic and total, and he wanted it more than life itself. The tiny part of his mind which still clung to hopes of mortality screamed a warning, to wait, to think, but he pushed it aside and with that final rejection he could feel it die within him. LaCroix suddenly slashed at his tongue with one canine and the warm gush of his blood filled both their mouths. It was like tossing gasoline on to a fire. ------------ The taste of Nicholas' blood was too much to bear, and it pushed LaCroix over the edge into a state of ravening lust. However, there was more to it than simply a physical need to be satisfied, or it would not have been so overpowering. This was his son's essence that filled him and he wanted more-- he wanted all of him. With a savage growl, he threw his head back and struck, sinking his fangs deep into Nicholas' jugular. , he screamed inside his mind as the ecstasy hit. --------------- Nicholas gasped as LaCroix's fangs sank into his neck, and the last bit of reason fled him. "LaCroix," he screamed and grabbing the other's head yanked it within striking distance. As his teeth tore into the other's flesh, his master's essence flooded into him, assaulting him with his overpowering presence. Darkness deep as night, distilled into blood, flowed down his throat and into his soul. He felt as if he were drowning a sweet death as he sank willingly down, down, down through infinite layers of his master's accumulated feelings and knowledge and memories. The images flickering through his mind only registered as fragments, bits and pieces of an immortal life, which swirled before his mind's eye for a moment and then were gone. Yet, this time, he realized something was different, as if the ancient was holding nothing back. A small part of his mind wondered at it, just before his universe exploded and he spiraled down into a world of pure, unadulterated sensation. ---------------------- They fed from each other for a long while, feeding and being fed upon, an eternal circle of life. Nicholas was the first to finally disengage, and LaCroix followed him a few moments later. Keeping his face nuzzled into the other's neck, he lapped gently at the remaining traces of blood on his sire's flesh, cleaning the ivory skin. He could feel LaCroix mirroring the action on his own neck and it sent a delicious shiver of desire down his spine. It seemed any protection he had erected over the centuries against his father had disappeared during this single blood sharing. His only hope was that he would not come to rue his decision this night. When Nick was satisfied that his cleansing was finished and he pulled back slightly from their close embrace, he discovered that LaCroix's eyes were still shining gold, just as he knew his own were. The single exchange of blood had obviously not been enough for either of them. This hunger had been building for three hundred years; it would not be so easily sated. They stared at each other for a long drawn out moment, as if they both were caught in a spell. LaCroix was the first to regain control, and pulled away slightly. Nicholas reached up and delicately touched the full mouth, tracing the lower lip delicately with one finger, wiping away the last traces of his blood. He was not surprised when his master echoed the gentle touch, caressing his cheek, then trailing down his barely healed throat. LaCroix nipped at his index finger, drawing blood again, then brought the bleeding digit into his mouth and licked at the red trickle. He groaned, drowning in the sensation. ----------- The small taste was more than enough to trigger LaCroix's response, to take what he needed. He released Nicholas' hand, and in one sure motion tore open his lover's shirt; the sound of ripping cloth was almost masked by his snarl of passion. Now that he had free access to the smooth skin, he ran his hands hungrily over Nicholas' chest and sides, reveling in the sensation. It had been so long since he had reveled in the taste and feel of the other's flesh that it was almost too much to bear. He wanted more, and from his son's response through their link he knew he was not alone in this feeling. He reached down and quickly tore at Nicholas' pants, yanking the dark cloth down over his hips. His son launched a similar attack, and at this onslaught, they overbalanced, landing heavily on the floor. Two pairs of hands ripped at clothing as they rolled on the rug vying for dominance. Soon both of them were naked. LaCroix finally managed to pin Nick's hands over his head and stared down at him. Their glowing eyes locked. , Nicholas, he thought. He leaned down and covered the other's mouth with a fierce kiss. He started trailing his open mouth down the other's throat, mapping his path with his tongue and his razor-sharp teeth. He paid special attention to the delicate hollow of Nicholas' throat, lapping at the blood-sweat pooling there. His partner struggled to be free of his grip, but he still was more powerful than the younger vampire and kept his advantage easily. Continuing his downward path, he finally bit savagely at the tender flesh over his child's heart, and was rewarded by an ecstatic groan. He lapped at the crimson stream that ran over the smooth flesh, not willing to waste a single drop. All too soon, the wounds closed. "LaCroix..." Nicholas pleaded. He felt Nicholas' legs wrap tightly around his waist, wordlessly asking for completion. Leisurely lovemaking would have to wait for later, right now they both needed release. "What do you want, Nicholas?" he asked, wanting to hear him beg for it. "Damn you," Nick snarled, "just do it." The blond vampire struggled to be free, to reach up and take what he wanted, but could not. "Ask for it." He leaned forward until his lips were scant inches from the other's open, panting mouth. Nicholas stopped his struggling and stared with glowing gold eyes into his master's. Without warning, he bit savagely at LaCroix's lip, drawing blood. The sharp pain drove away the last bit of control LaCroix had and with one long stroke, he thrust into his lover. Nicholas gave a loud scream, his head arching back at the sensation of being filled. LaCroix could feel his son's reactions through their link, echoing and enhancing his own. This was how they were meant to be-- forever. He fucked Nicholas hard and fast, and his partner met him at every thrust. Taking the other's hard cock into his hand, he started milking him. It had been centuries since their last joining, but in some strange way, it felt as if they had never been apart. Their bodies remembered what to do. The sensation of his Nicholas surrounding him, clinging to him while moaning passionately, Nicholas' body synchronized with his thrusts and caresses was almost too much to bear. He could feel his own climax building and as he approached the abyss, he could feel Nicholas join him there. This time he let himself flow forward to meet the other's bright spark, keeping nothing of himself back and he marveled at it. Then he came, hard and wrenchingly, spilling his seed deep inside his lover. He lunged forward and experienced a doubling of the red-tinged ecstasy as Nicholas' sweet blood flooded his mouth. He hardly felt his son's teeth tear into his flesh as his partner gained his own release. ------------ Time slowed, as they continued to feed. When they finally disengaged, LaCroix rolled onto his side, pulling his son along with him, holding him in the possessive circle of his arms. Nick lay there, a bit stunned at the depth of their sharing. LaCroix stroked his face with gentle touches, soothing him. He realized he was trembling and tried to stop, but found it impossible. He buried his face against the sweaty bend of his father's neck. "LaCroix," he whispered shakily. "Why was it never like this before?" He stared at his maker with a bewildered look. "I..." LaCroix's voice broke. That single sign of vulnerability made him realize LaCroix was just as moved as he. He kissed his sire's throat gently, touching his lips like a benediction against the wounds he had made. "It felt as if..." How could he describe in mere words what had just passed between them? For a single moment, it had felt as if they were one. "I finally allowed my barriers to drop," LaCroix whispered, stroking Nicholas' smooth skin. "Why did you keep us apart all those years?" was all he could ask. LaCroix gave a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. "To open myself in the blood sharing-- even to you-- was a weakness I could not allow..." His voice faded off, as he stared into his son's eyes. The words rang true. For as long as he had known LaCroix, his master had refused to show any vulnerability, even to his children. It was as if he had lost every shred of his humanity when he crossed over. And for so long, he had believed it. It was only after Divia that he understood it was just a sham, an illusion LaCroix had purposefully constructed to make himself appear invulnerable, without any human weakness. With this realization things had changed between them. He couldn't say he was glad for all the suffering and death his 'grandmother's' reappearance had caused, but he would be forever grateful how it had finally made them put aside so much of their bitter feelings. It had allowed them start over again. "Perhaps," LaCroix finished, "not being able to do so was my true weakness." "Then we'll just have to work on that, father," he said softly, kissing him lightly on the mouth. "It may take a while." "I think we have the time." LaCroix glanced at the pieces of clothing that lay strewn about the room. "It was fortuitous I picked up a change of clothing for you. I do not believe this outfit will be worn again." The way he changed the topic revealed he was still uncomfortable talking about such things. Grabbing a large piece of black silk material that lay near his head, Nicholas held it up for inspection. "I think you may be right," he agreed with a shade of laughter in his voice. LaCroix rose from the floor, offering a hand to help his son up. As soon as Nicholas gained his feet, he was swept up into his father's arms. The elder vampire immediately headed for the bedroom. "LaCroix..." Nick sputtered. "Indulge me, Nicholas. This is something I have always fantasized doing." His eyebrows rose heavenwards at the strange confession, but he settled back into the strong embrace with a small smile. "Really?" He was intrigued. A small part of him felt a bit ridiculous being treated like the heroine in some romance novel, but another, larger part of him enjoyed the sensation of being held safe by such strength. "Yes. Unfortunately, I never could allow myself the pleasure." He reached the bed by this time and lay his lover down on the dark spread. "I think I enjoy being swept off my feet," he teased, keeping hold of LaCroix's neck as he pulled him down into a kiss. "And I find I enjoy doing it," LaCroix admitted between kisses. This time they were making love, Nick realized with a strange heady satisfaction. Before, whenever they had come together it had always been just sex. Sometimes it had been very, very good sex, but whatever they felt for each other had been carefully hidden. LaCroix accomplishing it by his abilities and fears, and he by refusing to admit to his true feelings. It was Janette he openly declared to the world his affection. Never LaCroix. Now, after that last revealing blood sharing it was all out in the open between them. Absurdly, what he wanted now, was for it to be voiced. "LaCroix," he whispered into the other's ear. "Hmmmm," the elder answered back distractedly as he laid a trail of delicate bites and kisses down the length of his child's neck. "You never..." Words failed him. <> his master sent over their link, too busy with his mouth to speak. Perhaps it wasn't necessary, Nick told himself, but realized as he thought it that it was a lie. Their blood sharing had told him so much, but he still wanted to hear the words spoken aloud. Yet, he realized with a start, he had not said them either. Perhaps, he acknowledged with a tinge of shame, LaCroix was not the only one who was unable to voice his emotions. <> he finally sent back as he ran his fingers through the short cropped hair, losing himself in sensation. LaCroix stopped in his loving ministrations and leaned up on his elbow to stare into his son's dark blue eyes. "What is it, Nicholas?" "It's not important," he lied. "Just make love to me." "Is it so important for me to say the words?" LaCroix knew. He was a wizard, always knowing his deepest thoughts and feelings. "I..." Nick finally managed to get out, but that was as far as he could get. "I do, you know." His heart swelled at the words and he could feel tears beginning to pool in his eyes. "If this is my weakness, then I shall master it. I do love you, Nicholas." "And I you," he managed to get out, his master's words freeing his tongue at last. "Say it again," LaCroix asked gently, stroking down his side and over his hip and back up again. "I love you," he repeated, the words stronger this time. He slid his arms around LaCroix's waist and back, his hands slowly caressing the smooth skin. "Then show me," LaCroix commanded. This was one order he was eager to obey. ----------------------------------------------- Natalie was tired of answering questions. It was all very good that LaCroix saved her life, but she wished that he or Nick had also left a few helpful notes for her to get her through the police investigation. The only explanation she had to fall back on was that she didn't remember anything about the attack. She had been heading for her apartment when everything went black. No, she didn't remember anything after that. Etc., etc., etc. Thankfully, the officer in charge told her up front that her car had been found abandoned four blocks from her apartment. It had been dusted for prints, but all they could readily identify were hers. They were still running some tests, but they weren't very sanguine about discovering any clues in her car. Her purse had also been found in a nearby alley emptied of all valuables. She wondered if LaCroix was going to fence her credit cards. Getting everything replaced was going to be a royal pain in the ass, she realized, staring up at the white ceiling. The only cheerful thing that had come her way today was the information she was to be released in the morning. ----------------------------------------------------- He woke to warmth and a strange feeling of contentment. It took him a moment to orient himself, then he remembered the events of the previous evening. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking into the sleeping face of Lucien LaCroix. He studied the strong features, wondering why after all the long centuries together this one individual's face still fascinated him. Perhaps because it contained such a strange juxtaposition of elements: beauty and ugliness, brutality and sensitivity, good and evil. Or perhaps it was just because he loved him. He smiled slightly at the thought. It had certainly taken him long enough to come to that realization. Raising his right hand, he slowly trailed his fingers along the strong line of LaCroix's jaw. The older vampire's lips slowly turned up into a slight smile. His eyes, however, remained closed. Nick continued his slow exploration, now mapping out the territory of the other's chin, then up and over the drawn up lips. "Are you still asleep?" he asked teasingly. "Of course." "Oh." He leaned up on one elbow and laid a light kiss on his sire's cheek. "Are you still?" "Yes." "I wonder what might wake you up?" LaCroix's smile grew. "You're getting close." He gave a laugh. "How about this?" He covered LaCroix's mouth with his own, teasing at the closed lips with his tongue. Suddenly, the 'sleeping' vampire's arms wrapped tightly around him, and his kiss was met with passion. When they finally parted, he found those usually ice-blue eyes staring at him with warmth. "I believe I am now awake." "I'm relieved. I wasn't sure what else I'd have to kiss to wake you up." "I should have stayed asleep a little longer then," LaCroix murmured, pulling him back down into his arms and into a deeper kiss. ------------------------------------------ Natalie settled into the passenger's seat of Grace's car with a contented sigh. "I am so glad to be out of that hospital," she confessed with a heartfelt smile. The police were keeping her car for a few more days as they ran some more tests, so she had found it necessary to ask her friend to drive her home. "And they're probably just as glad to see you go," Grace laughed, as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot. "They always say, doctors make the worse patients." "I was a *wonderful* patient," she exclaimed with mock indignation. "Just because I was clawing down the door to get out, doesn't mean a thing." "Uh-huh." Grace grinned at her. "So, how's Sydney doing?" she asked, smiling back at her friend. Grace began going into the details of her care and feeding of one Sydney Lambert, and Natalie relaxed into the normality of the conversation. It was good to sink oneself into the little detail of ordinary life again. After everything that had happened in the last few days, she was finally beginning to feel a little like her own self. She was even starting to put into some sort of perspective her friend's suicide and Tracey's death. Now if she could only figure out what she felt about Nick and herself. So many conflicting emotions bombarded her whenever she thought about him, she had shied away from any serious thinking while in the hospital. Only one thing was clear in her mind, that she was worried about Nick. After his visit two nights ago, she hadn't heard from him and she was beginning to imagine the worst things possible. Halfway home she turned to Grace, knowing she couldn't wait a moment longer. "Grace, would you do me another favor?" "As long as it doesn't include changing Sydney's kitty litter again, you've got it," her personal chauffeur declared magnanimously. "Would you take me to Nick's place? Just for a minute? I need to talk to him." Grace gave her a telling look. "He didn't look too good at the hospital. A lot's happened to him in the last few days..." "I know. I'm worried, too. I just want to make sure he's okay, then I'll be able to rest easy." Her friend smiled and without another word turned the car. Fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of the old warehouse. Promising that she'd only be five minutes, she left Grace in the car and headed up the elevator. As she ascended in the lift, she realized with a trace of surprise that she didn't really want to be alone with him yet, but also knew how he looked and acted the night before. If the truth was told she was afraid of Nick, and that acknowledgment made her feel ashamed. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the elevator door open. The sight that met her eyes pulled her up short. "Oh, god," she whispered as she stepped into the wreckage of the loft. "Nick!" she called out. "Nick, are you here?" Only silence answered her call. "Nick!!!" Now she was really frightened. She stepped into the room and with her heart in her throat started her search. -------------------------------------------- Nick stared at the selection of CDs and chose a keyboard piece of J.S. Bach. As the strains of the music filtered through the small living room, he settled back against the cushions of the sofa and closed his eyes. For someone who had gone through so much in the last few days he felt strangely at peace. Finally. He sensed LaCroix's distinctive presence enter the room and he opened one lazy eye to look up at him. "I'm glad you unpacked a few things," Nick muttered, gesturing at the stereo. "Hmmm." "What?" He knew that certain sound and what it meant. "I was just wondering if I should recall the rest of my things?" That simple statement jarred his memory and he realized LaCroix had been ready to move on. In all probability, all the arrangements had been finalized with Aristotle for beginning a new life. It was just the events of the last few days had pushed that knowledge to the back of his mind. "I'm sorry, I should have considered what I'm doing to your plans." He straightened and looked at his companion straight on. "That is nothing," LaCroix began. "But you know in your heart it is time to move on. It was true earlier, and it is more so now." "I don't know what I know," he confessed simply. "I don't want to made a decision for the wrong reasons or just to simply run away. I need time to think, to consider." He wished he could be as certain as LaCroix always seemed to be, with no doubts or questions. he acknowledged, knowing himself. He would always have doubts and questions. "And if I asked you to leave with me now? Would you do it?" Nick weighed the demand and knew he was being tested. He also knew what his answer would be. "Yes," he said simply, acknowledging his new priorities. LaCroix smiled and went around the back of the couch, laying his hands on Nick's shoulders. He gave them an affectionate squeeze. "We shall stay as long as you need, amant." Reaching up, he covered one hand with his own. Yes, things had changed between them. How much, he was not quite sure, but like everything else, time would reveal that as well. "Thank you." With that the old Roman moved away, knelt down, and began rummaging around in the bottom of the sideboard. "Ah, there it is," he said with some satisfaction. "What?" LaCroix held out a playing board and a familiar carved ebony box. He chuckled fondly. "It has been a long time, hasn't it?" "Indeed. One of the things I sorely missed." He placed the board on the coffee table and then began laying out the beautifully carved chess pieces. "You were always a challenging partner." "In more ways that one?" The older vampire gave an amused snort. "Indeed. In that, things have not changed. It's one of the reasons I've been so fond of this game. It reflects our life. Moves and counter-moves, with all the subtleties to be discovered. Then the game is over and one starts again." "But someone always loses." He prayed that was not how LaCroix saw their relationship-- in terms of winners and losers. "Sometimes," he conceded. "But there are dissimilarities as well. Life and chess are never simple." "Don't you ever yearn for simplicity?" Nick asked as he rose and headed for the side table. "Sometimes," LaCroix confessed softly. "But simplicity is a state that only those with finite time should strive for. It can be deadly for us." Filling two glasses with crimson liquid, he returned to the sofa. He was amazed that their conversation was not engendering an argument, as it would have just a short time before. Perhaps it was because he didn't feel threatened. He smiled, placing the glasses at their respective places, and reclaimed his place beside his master. "Feel like a game?" LaCroix asked, holding up the white king and studying it with a slight smile. He nodded his agreement and took the piece out of LaCroix's hand, settling it in its proper place. White was always his color when they played. It began as a conceit of his master's, but it was tradition now, and somehow it wouldn't feel right if he played any other. "My move, I believe." "Indeed it is." ---------------------------------------------------- Natalie got out of the cab and approached the apparently closed Raven. she thought as she tried the locked door. This place should be packed this time of night, she realized with a sinking sensation. Then the "Closed until further notice" sign attracted her attention. she thought, staring at the unhelpful words. Feeling more than a bit nervous, she glanced back at the waiting cab, but the driver gave her a small salute as if telling her he'd wait as he promised. After all, this wasn't the best neighborhood in the city, and with the club closed, the area was dead. She pounded on the door. The sound seemed to echo inside the building. "Hello!" she called out, knocking again on the closed portal. Just as she was about to give up and try around the back, the door opened, and she found the very tall form of Lucien LaCroix looming over her. It always made her angry how much he intimidated her, and tonight was no exception. She straightened and stared him right in the eye, refusing to give an inch. "LaCroix." "Ah, Dr. Lambert. How nice to see you." By his tone, she could tell he meant the exact opposite. "LaCroix, I need to talk to you." One eyebrow went up, but instead of inquiring further, he gestured her inside the club. Closing the door behind her, he led the way down into the main room. The quiet was a bit unnerving and from the stripped looks of it, the Raven was closed-- permanently. "Yes, Doctor, and what is so important that it brings you here this evening?" "I was at Nick's earlier today," she began without preamble. "It was a total ruin. Everything in his place has been destroyed, and there was no sign of him." She paused and looked into the hooded eyes. "I'm worried about him and his state of mind-- after what happened." "Perhaps you should have thought of the consequences to Nicholas before proposing your foolhardy course of action. Your *faith* was ill placed." "My faith in him is still unshaken," she stated more resolutely than she actually felt. "I'm still alive." LaCroix gave a small laugh. "Of course." "Do you know where Nick is?" She knew she owed her life to him, but she'd be damned if she'd acknowledge that right now. "And if I did?" He was toying with her, which made her even angrier. "I need to talk to him." "I do not believe he needs to speak to you, however." "I think he would be the best judge of that." "I think not." "You know where he is, then." "Yes." He wasn't giving an inch, and the smug look on his face made her want to scream. "Then why don't you tell me." "All right, Doctor, if you insist. He's here, with me." Those words sent a shiver down her spine, but at least it was a relief to know he was still alive. "Then I'd like to speak to him." "You have already lost him, my dear, or haven't you figured that small detail out quite yet?" "I haven't lost, LaCroix. And you certainly haven't won." "Oh, but I have. Thanks to you." He gave her a smile that made her skin crawl. "You see, Nicholas has always belonged to me. The events of the last few days simply made him acknowledge that fact." "Nick belongs to himself," she ground out. "And to you?" He laughed again. "Wasn't that the whole point of your little demonstration of power at Nicholas' place? That in life or death, he would belong to you?" The accusation stung, and she straightened. "You wouldn't know about loving someone. About what you'd chance to be with the one you love." "You are so wise, my dear," he said in his smoothest voice. "Love is, of course, something of which I have no conception. Possession. Ownership. That is what motivates me." He was a monster, a soulless monster, she thought with a tinge of horror. "I want to see Nick, now!" "Oh, very well, you may talk to him. I warn you though, reality is oftentimes a very bitter pill." He glanced upward and his eyes became slightly unfocused for a moment. "He's coming." That kind of demonstration of their bond made her feel slightly sick inside. If only Nick could become mortal, this devil would lose his hold on him. That alone was worth the fight, no matter what the cost. The sound of footsteps announced Nick's arrival. She turned and waited, trying to ignore LaCroix's presence at her side. "Natalie?" She almost sighed in relief at the familiar voice. "Nick, thank heavens." She rushed forward, hands extended. "Why are you here?" he asked, clasping her hands firmly in his own. She ignored the sensation of how cool his skin was against hers. "I went to your place earlier to talk and-- and I thought you might have done something foolish. I was worried sick. This was the only place I could think to try in the hopes of finding you." "I'm fine, Nat." He raised one of her hands to his lips, brushing a feather light kiss against the back of her hand. "But you shouldn't have come here." "We need to talk." She looked at LaCroix tellingly. "I believe she is indicating ever so subtly that she would like to talk to you alone," LaCroix offered archly. "I'll leave the two of you to your talk. I'll be upstairs." "Thank you," Nick said softly and gave the old vampire a gentle smile. She waited until the other was gone then turned to her love. "Nick, you've got to get out of here." "Why?" "Why?!!?" She looked at him in disbelief. "Where else would I stay?" "You could stay with me." She wasn't quite sure she had actually said that, but it was done, and she would stand by it. "That's impossible. You know that." She laid the palm of her hand over his heart. "I still love you." "And I love you," he echoed back ever so gently. "But it was a tragic mistake to try and cross the gulf that separates us. It almost cost you your life." "I rushed it, that's all..." "Rushed it? Nat, it's been almost six years. No, it's been over a hundred years since I've tried to regain my mortality. This last insanity of mine finally drove it home that it will *never* happen. Never." "I don't believe that. We've been so close..." "No we haven't. It's been a fool's dream. Mine. And it's time for me to wake up." "I won't accept that." "You have to. Nat, I want you to go on. I want you to leave here and never come back. Find a real life with someone who can give you what you deserve. Love, children, everything that you need and that I can never give you." She was crying at this point. "Nick, don't do this. We'll find a way..." "No, we won't. If nothing else, this has finally made me accept what I am. Now I've got to make a life for myself with that as my new reality. And you've got to do the same." He leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'll always love you. Remember that. But it's time for *both* of us to move on." "If you're trying to punish me for my part in all this, then you're doing a good job of it," she sobbed. He simply shook his head, although she could see answering tears in his eyes as well. "Give me a chance to prove you wrong." He shook his head again. "Then at least leave here. I'm terrified of you being with LaCroix." "Nat, LaCroix is my master. My family. We belong together." She froze and stared at him. "No." "Yes," he said gently. What she saw in his eyes she could not acknowledge. "I need him-- more than you can know. I've always needed him, I just refused to admit it. Like so many other things in my life." "Oh, Nick," she whispered, horrified at the simple statement. "Please..." "Nat, it's time for you to go." She could tell it was breaking his heart to say those words, but there was also steel resolve in those eyes. It was his eyes that finally told her she had lost him-- forever. ---------------------------------------------------- Nick climbed the stairs to the apartment with slow, weary steps. Strains of a Mozart quartet met him as he opened the door. LaCroix looked up from his seat by the fire and held out his hand. He accepted the proffered clasp and gave it a slight squeeze, before lowering himself onto the floor at LaCroix's feet. Resting his head on the black clad knee he said softly, "You were right. It's time for us to leave." "I think that is wise." Laying one of his hands on his son's head, he slowly carded the golden strands through his fingers. "Our game here is finished; it is time to start another. I'll let Aristotle know there will be two of us for which to make arrangements." He leaned into the almost hypnotic touch and sighed. "So, where are we going?" "Do you care?" LaCroix sounded genuinely curious. "No." At this point, it didn't matter where they went, as long as it was away from here. He knew this uncaring attitude would change soon, but for now he was more than content for LaCroix to make all the decisions. "I thought perhaps-- Paris." He turned and looked up at his master, wondering at the strangely hesitant tone. "Paris?" "It seems a proper place to start again. A second beginning for us perhaps?" He smiled and grabbing hold of LaCroix's hand, brushed his lips against the other's fingers. "I think I like that idea." -------------------------------------------------- The next night he turned up at the station. More than a few stares were directed in his direction, most of them sympathetic, he noted with a distant pang. These people knew what it meant to lose a partner, but there was no one here who meant enough to him to make him really care what they thought. Making directly for Captain Reese's office, he found the man in, buried behind his usual pile of paperwork. It only took a few minutes to lay down his letter of resignation and give a brief explanation. Reese was sympathetic and even tried to talk him out of it, but he also understood about his decision. He only took one or two things out of his desk before leaving, the rest could be disposed of by the next occupant. There were no more farewells to be said, or loose ends to be resolved, except one. The morgue was empty except for one attendant who knew him and did not question his presence. Carefully, he laid a wrapped box and a sealed letter on Natalie's desk. It would be there when she returned. Now it was just a matter of another day or two until he left Toronto behind him. At least for now. -------------------------------------------------- Natalie's return to work was greeted with warm wishes and smiles. Grace made it a point to stay late to give her a kiss on the cheek and a hug as a welcome back. Even as she smiled and said all the right things there was an emptiness inside her, and she wondered when, or if, it would ever go away. A package and a stark white envelope lay on her desk. Her name in a familiar script identified who had left it. The breath caught in her throat as she picked up the envelope with trembling hands. Inside she read: Natalie, Remember that I shall always love you. Be happy, my dearest. I also want you to have something to remember me by that for centuries has been one of my chief treasures. I no longer need it, but I would like you to care for it now. May heaven keep you always. Eternally yours, Nick. Tears filled her eyes and she sat down heavily in her chair. The deep red decorative paper covering the package parted easily under her fingers, revealing a small metal box. She knew what was inside before lifting the lid. The crude, wooden crucifix felt light in her hand as she lifted it out of its sheltering box. --------------------------------------------------- The airport was busy, even for this time of night. Two men stood at an observation window looking out at their plane, which was almost ready for boarding. It was raining, almost as if the sky were weeping, Nicholas thought fancifully. "Regret, amant?" LaCroix asked softly, standing slightly behind the younger man. Regrets? His entire life, from beginning to end, was filled with regrets, Natalie heading the list. Yet, now at least, he was trying to do the right thing-- getting out of her life so she could have a chance to heal, to go on. Strangely enough, it occurred to him he was even doing what was right regarding LaCroix. Staring out at the night, Nick sighed, "Yes, but it will pass. Everything does, eventually." "Not everything." His master's voice sounded strange and he turned to look at him. He found LaCroix staring at him fixedly, and across their link, an unmistakable feeling was pouring. He suddenly felt the darkness lift from his soul. The smile he returned to his sire was full of warmth and love. "You may be right, Lucien. You may just be right." Finis ˜ Ë