Curiouser Still...
Part 5

See Part 1 for notes and disclaimers and all that other stuff.  Lost
parts can be found at http://www.loftworks.com/wftk/fiction.html

     Nick awoke in his bed feeling peaceful, quiet, content...hopeful.
He stared up the ceiling and smiled.  He dreamed often, if they could
be called dreams.  They were typically more like nightmares, but
this--this had been the most marvelous dream he'd ever had.  Bizarre,
yes.  Far beyond unusual, but it made a wonderful counterpoint to the
terrible night.  The shooting.  The pain and anguish he'd fallen
asleep with.  He yawned, stretched, and got out of bed and headed for
the shower.
     Dressed, he walked down the stairs and headed for the fridge.
     And stopped dead.
     In the center of the table were two apple tarts.  Fresh.
Apple. Tarts.
     In the silence he could hear his heart beating.
     And beating...
     He whirled around and stared at the clock.  Three a.m. ... but
what day?  Nick ran over and picked up the remote, and turned on the
TV.  CNN quickly confirmed what he couldn't believe.
     "It's not possible," Nick breathed.  But it was.  Not just a few
hours had passed, but more than twenty.  He had collapsed into bed
near four a.m., woken at nine to coffee, spent a day with his
family--his long-departed family--and slept again through much of the
night.
     Nick was completely disoriented.  In disbelief he sat down at the
table and stared at the tarts.  It had happened.  All of it.  It
wasn't a dream.  And he was alive.  Human.  At least for a little
while longer.
     He closed his eyes, unable to take it in.  And listened to his
heart beating.  And he could hear her voice one last time.
     *"Nicolas, there is a happy ending.  There will be a time when
you step again into the sunlight..."*
     He held the thought tightly, treasuring it.  She had promised
him, and hope blossomed up inside him.  Not *if* but *when*.  There
would be a day.  Someday.  If he hung on.  Despite LaCroix.  Despite
the hunger, the lust and the craving.  Someday.  Change was possible.
Anything was possible.  Tears slid down his face.
     Just then the elevator started up and began its slow grinding
ascent.  Nick looked up, startled.
     Natalie.
     What could he tell her?  What *should* he tell her?  He honestly
didn't know.
     Natalie pulled open the door to find Nick sitting at the dining
table staring at what looked like ... tarts.  The look on his face was
unfathomable.
     "Nick?" Natalie asked.  "Are you all right?"
     Nick looked up, and as Natalie watched, wiped away tears.
Clear--not bloody--tears.
     He stared at her and shook his head.  "I'm...fine, Natalie."
     "Then why are you shaking your head no?  And why are you crying?"
Natalie asked as she moved around the table towards him.
     "You wouldn't believe me...well, maybe you would," Nick said
softly.
     Natalie, in curiosity, reached out and touched the tears still
visible on his face.  "Nick, these tears...are..."
     "Normal, ordinary, human tears," Nick finished.
     Natalie stared at him in wonder, then touched his face.  She
gasped at the warmth of it, and galvanized into action, grabbed his
arm and checked his pulse.
     "Nick!  You're...you're alive!" Natalie stuttered.
     Nick laughed, stood up, and pulled her into his arms.  He hugged
her and whirled her around at the same time.
     "Nick?"  Natalie gasped out.  "What...how?"
     He put her down and smiled tenderly at her.  "I don't know.  It
doesn't matter.  And...," he said slowly, the smile slipping a bit,
"it won't last.  In fact, it will only last until nine a.m."
     "Huh?" Natalie said, her jaw dropping.  "What are you talking
about?  How can you be human and then tell me it's got a time
limit...like a ... parking meter or something?"
     "Because it does.  I'm human.  For twenty-four hours.  Since nine
a.m. yesterday until nine a.m. this morning.  And it's been
wonderful."
     "Why didn't you call me?" Natalie demanded.
     Nick shook his head, grabbed her hand and pushed her down into a
chair.  He sat down in a chair next to her and took her hands in his.
"I didn't know it was true until just a few minutes ago.  I thought it
was all a dream.  But it wasn't.  It was all true."
     "What wasn't a dream?" Natalie asked confused.
     Nick laughed.  "I don't really know where to start, Nat..."
     "At the beginning, maybe," Nat suggested, holding his hand
tightly, loving the warmth emanating from him.
     Nick shook his head.  "I feel like Alice through the looking
glass, but it all started when I came home after the shooting.  I
was..."
     "Let's just say depressed," Natalie said, "go on."
     Nick met her knowing gaze and leaned forward to kiss her brow.
"I was depressed, then.  I went to bed in a bad frame of mind.  But
when I woke up this morning, I woke to coffee percolating, and I came
down to find..."  Nick stopped and searched Natalie's face.
     Natalie met his look quizzically.
     "...I found my mother cooking breakfast."
     "What?" Natalie gasped.  "That's not..."
     "...possible.  I know, but it was."  Nick smiled at her, and the
happiness that shone out of his face was astonishing.  Natalie didn't
think she'd ever seen him that carefree, that...completely happy.  As
if the weight of all his guilt had simply evaporated.
     "She fed me omelet and an apple tart for breakfast, and then
wanted to know all about you.  D'you know, Nat, that she really likes
you?  She thinks you're the best thing that has happened to me since I
met LaCroix."
     "How can she know about me?" Natalie asked puzzled.
     "I don't know.  It sounds like they have an observatory or
something where they can tune in and see how you are doing...or
something.  I really didn't quite get that.  Anyway, then Fleur showed
up."
     "Fleur, as in your sister, Fleur?"  Natalie said, astonished.
     "Yeah.  Mother said she had a bone to pick."
     "LaCroix."
     "Yes."
     "I gather she picked it."
     "Uh, yes.  But we resolved that.  She told me that if I had been
a normal self-respecting de Brabant I would have died and we could
have resolved it centuries ago."
     Natalie burst out laughing, and Nick joined her.  "Oh, Natalie,"
he said at last when they stopped laughing.  "It was so good to see
them.  We made chocolate cake and souffle for lunch.  I don't know
where all the ingredients came from--they were just here--and I never
even thought about it.  Fleur and I had a food fight, just like we did
when we were children.  And after that we looked at pictures, and they
grilled me about every aspect of my life--especially you."
     "And what did you tell them?" Natalie asked curiously, her heart
suddenly beating faster.
     Nick smiled at her, then leaned forward to kiss her lightly on
the lips.  He leaned his forehead against hers and said mischievously,
"I'm not sure I should tell you.  You might develop an ego problem."
     Natalie laughed at that.  "I doubt it.  So, then what happened."
     Nick leaned back and smiled tenderly at her, "You called,
remember?"
     "Uh, yes, I did.  Before work."
     "That's when they decided not to stay until nine.  Maman said it
would be better this way." Nick sobered, "I begged them to stay.  But
she said no.  She told me she had come to let me know that it was all
right, that she loved me.  Fleur said that the bean-counters said I
deserved a holiday, and they apparently got one, too.  Death took a
holiday in the loft.  They were alive, and I--I'm alive.  And then, I
was tired and I lay my head down in my mother's lap and she told me a
story.  Sort of like Sleeping Beauty, but not."
     Nick stopped, and though he was looking at Natalie, she knew he
was not seeing her.  He was very far away.  She tightened her grip on
his hands and waited.
     "She told me...," Nick faltered, "she told me that someday I
would walk in the sun again.  That eventually I would be freed of this
curse if I persevere.  If I don't allow LaCroix to derail me, I will
be freed from this curse."
     Natalie felt tears suddenly well up in her eyes, and meeting
Nick's gaze, saw that there were tears there, too.
     "I don't know when, or how long, Natalie.  But I know that it's
not if.  It's when."
     "Nick," Natalie said unsteadily.
     "Shhh," Nick said softly, putting a finger to her lips.  "It may
be a long time, you know.  Longer than you have."
     Natalie looked down at his other hand, still in hers.  So warm.
So close, yet so far away.  "I won't give up, Nick," she said
fiercely.
     "I know, Nat.  I know."
     She met his eyes, and was startled at the love that filled them.
This was a Nick she had never seen.  Not even when he'd been on the
Leitovuterine B.  This was the Nick he would have been if he had never
become a vampire.  This was the man who had never been burdened with
such terrible guilt and pain.
     "Natalie," he said softly, smiling as he pulled her up out of the
chair and into his arms.  "I told my mother that I loved you.  I told
her that I loved you like I've never loved anyone."
     Natalie felt herself go weak.  There was a strange trembling in
her knees, like there was an earthquake going on there.  If not for
Nick's arms around her, she would be in a heap on the ground.
     "Nick?" Natalie asked, a tremor in her voice.
     "Shhh.  It's true.  And even more true that there are no
guarantees on when I'll be mortal next.  So d'you know what?"
     "What?" Natalie asked breathless, almost nose to nose with Nick.
     "I want to watch the sunrise with you, please?"
     "Nick..."
     She never got to finish what she was going to say.  In fact,
Natalie forgot entirely what she was going to say as Nick's lips
closed over hers.  Soft.  Warm.  Loving.  His arms tightened around
her and the world spiraled in closer and closer.
     "Stay with me until morning," Nick whispered, his lips on her
throat, his hands caressing her.
     She could only hold him closer in reply.  She'd never thought she
would know heaven, but it was here.  Here in her arms.
     And then he picked her up in his arms and carried her up the
stairs...

                               Fin


* Paraphrased from the fairy tale, 'Little Daylight' by George
McDonald circa 1890.


End Part 5
-------
I hope you enjoyed the ride. Send comments to delggren@es.com
or delggren@loftworks.com