Somehow...
Copyright 1997 by Dorothy Elggren
Author's Notes

This story actually needs a bit of an introduction, so...

One day I was minding my own business, driving home in rush-hour
traffic, and wham!, this scene played itself out in my mind with an
incredible intensity.  It was quite a rush!  The problem was,
it was obviously a sequel to Somewhere, a story I wrote last year.

I shook my head and said, no, absolutely not.  I'm not going there.
Nope.  Not a chance.  No. No. NO!  I could not think of any valid
reason why Natalie would tell Nick what had happened in Somewhere.
But it was such a good scene, that it wouldn't leave me alone, and
eventually this story evolved.

BTW If you have not read Somewhere, you'll be wondering what is going
on.  Sorry about that, but it's just the way it worked out.  So, if
haven't read Somewhere, you can find it on the ftp site or at the
fiction page (www.fkfanfic.com).

I want to thank my beta readers Kayleen Woolf and specially Cindy
Ingram for their excellent insight and suggestions.  This story is
much better because of their work.  Also thanks to my sister Jeanne
for doing the most difficult job of all, grammar.

 As always, it was fun to play with these characters and I wish they
were mine...but they're JP's.  But I took good care of them, and put
them back in *perfect* condition... <g>

Finally, while Somewhere was Natalie's story, it is appropriate that
Somehow is Nick's story.

As always, any and all comments are appreciated at 
delggren@loftworks.com.

So, let's roll Fred's wonderful music,

He was brought across in 1228...




Prologue

         "There is change in the air...you can *feel* it, *smell* it,
can't you?  It hangs there, as tantalizing as the full moon.  So close
you can touch it, taste it, feel it's texture."  The Nightcrawler's
words echoed oddly, distorted, malevolent in the large room as they
poured out of the small radio.  The man working, carefully on a ladder
leaning against a concrete pillar, laughed.  It echoed back to him
from all around, a cacophony of mad sounds.
        "You got it," the man whispered.  His eyes were odd, full of
gleaming madness.  His hair was unkempt, straggling down around his
shoulders. His patchy stubble, peppered with gray, accentuated his air
of carelessness for anything beyond his goal.
        He carefully scraped at the paint he'd put on the day before,
making sure it looked as worn as the rest of the paint on the column.
Finally he rubbed dirt into it, and scrutinized his handiwork.  No one
would ever see his little additions from a distance in the dark
cavernous room.  They'd be too busy to see, anyway.  Cops.  They only
saw what you put right under their noses.  Stupid cops who took away
everything.  Well, there was change coming, all right.  He'd seen to
that.  Big changes.  They would pay for what they'd done.  They'd
taken everything from him, and he would take everything from them.
        He laughed again and hauled the ladder away.  Everything was
ready.  All he had to do now was call those dumb cops who thought he
was their snitch.  He could hardly wait.  Change was coming, he was
seeing to that...

        "The air is crisp with the scent of new leaves, new life.  Yet
that is not the change coming, is it?"  The words were tinged with an
edge of menace, as if dipped in vitriol.  "Something much more
personal, something that will change who you are, what you are.  It is
inevitable..."
        Nick listened to LaCroix' words glide through the air with an
annoyed look wrinkling his brow, as he drove to work.  LaCroix was
once again telling him, in his typical oblique way, that it was time to
move on.  Time to leave his mortal life.  Nick was getting tired of
the theme.  It was something LaCroix had been dwelling on with an
indulgence bordering near obsession.  He turned off the radio.  He
wasn't going anywhere.  Nothing was going to tear him from this life.
Nothing...

        "...inevitable, because time does not stand still.  It never
has, and it never will.  It has been said the only immutable thing in
life is change itself.  So why do you cling so tightly to this life?
Why do you not embrace the change and....move on?"
        Natalie looked into some middle distance as she sipped her
cappuccino.  Unknowingly, she tapped her foot in an impatient
syncopation as she listened to LaCroix dispensing his nightly barbs
for Nick's benefit.  Her lips compressed into a thin line as she
listened to his sibilant suggestion that Nick move on, go back to
LaCroix, she supposed.  That was his ultimate goal, to tear Nick from
his mortal leanings and longings, mold him as clay to LaCroix' version
of reality.
        "Damn," Natalie said as she put her cup down with unnecessary
force.  She had taken up listening to his diatribe when she realized
how much it affected Nick.  It typically gave her a good idea what
kind of mood Nick would be in and what was bothering him.  It made it
much simpler to prepare an antidote for the nightly venom.  But
LaCroix was becoming bolder and bolder in his suggestions Nick
move on; it was the one thing Natalie truly feared Nick might do.
Move on... Change was inevitable and if she couldn't cure him, he
would...move on.
        Change.
        How could she stop time from flowing forward?
        Change.
        She still had a few things LaCroix didn't know about in her
ammunition supply, things that would really change Nick's and her
reality.  Love might not conquer all, but it sure came close.  It had
circumvented time once before, maybe it would again...

        Schanke struggled to get the lug nuts off, swearing.  From the
car radio (which was broken and stuck on that stupid Nightcrawler
station) he could hear the Nightcrawler himself whining about change.
If he wasn't so busy trying to get the damn tire off, he'd shoot the
damn radio.  Yeah.  Right.  Change.  The only change coming was that
he was doomed.  Cohen would kill him for being late.  And he was
definitely going to be late...

        Arthur watched as LaCroix flipped off the microphone and
smiled to himself.  He looked quite pleased with tonight's monologue.
Yes, Arthur thought to himself as he scratched Rolly's ear, there
would be change.  It just wasn't quite what any of them expected.  Not
at all...



Chapter 1

Revenge is foul and most unnatural murder.
  -- Hamlet, Scene V

        Nick rubbed his finger along his eyebrow as he stared at the
information currently being displayed from the Provincial Penal System
database.  It informed him blandly that William Samuel Loeffler had
been paroled almost four months ago, two years early for good
behavior.  He had reported each and every week to his parole officer
as required, and his behavior had been exemplary.
        "In a pig's eye," Nick murmured under his breath.  Loeffler,
currently, held the top spot in Nick's mind for the murder of Kevin
Brandt.  They'd found Kevin the previous night in a culvert under a
freeway overpass.  He'd been shot at close range with a shotgun.  Only
the fact that Kevin's fingerprints were on file had allowed them to
quickly identify him.
        Loeffler, according to the database, had been serving seven to
ten years for manslaughter.  He had been the wheelman for a robbery
heist five years ago.  A heist that had made off with $320,460.00 that
had never been found.  Loeffler and his partners Joey Talbot and Kevin
Brandt had fallen out shortly afterward.  No surprise really.  Greed
does that, Nick thought ironically, remembering what his own greed had
led him to do in what he mentally labeled his 'wicked period'.
        Loeffler had killed Joey Talbot five years ago, and with
incredibly bad luck, chose to do it in a bar where an undercover vice
officer had been doing surveillance.  The other suspect, Kevin Brandt,
had never been prosecuted because of lack of evidence.
        William went to jail, Joey went to a peaceful 3x6x9 resting
place, and Kevin had since vanished, along with the money.
        William had not wasted any time at all in working off his
feelings of injustice, once paroled.  Only four months to find and
vent his frustration on his former partner.  Not bad at all...
        And now, not one day later, three twenty dollar bills had shown
up.  "Somehow," Nick said, "I don't think this is a coincidence."
        "What's not a coincidence?" Schanke asked as he dropped his
bulk heavily onto his chair.  It groaned under the weight.
        Nick looked up and pointedly stared at his watch.
        "Yeah, I know, I'm late.  But let's just keep it between you
and me.  It's not like I planned it, Knight.  Myra took the car to the
grocery store, and on the way home, she picked up a nail.  That tire was
flatter than a pancake when I went out to come to work.  Flat, flat,
flat!  The lug nuts must have been tightened up by one of those
pneumatic wrenches when I had it serviced last, because I could *not*
get them off.  I had to borrow my neighbor's electronic gizmo, and by
the time I did..."
        "You were late," Nick said.  "Cohen's already been by."
        Schanke rolled his eyes.  "Man, I can't believe it.  The one
night.  The only night..."
        "Schanke," Cohen said from behind his right shoulder.  "You
are forty-five minutes late.  Along with the time you've missed this
last month, I suggest you do a make-up shift on Saturday."
        Schanke winced and twisted around in his seat to meet Cohen's
steady gaze.  The argument on his lips died.  "Yeah, Saturday," he
said as Cohen nodded shortly and left.
        Schanke rolled his eyes and then leaned his head in his hands.
"Myra's gonna kill me.  We're supposed to be going to a big family
party on Saturday."
        "You don't strike me as being all that upset, Schank," Nick
said watching Schanke closely.
        Schanke shrugged and grinned ruefully at being read so
easily.  "I really hate those parties, I admit it.  But I was trying
to do this right.  Myra's been complaining that I'm never there for
her.  I'm always working.  What does she think I'm working for?  No,
make that who."
        "Whom," Nick corrected, "and I don't think she's thinking
about the mortgage payments, Schank," Nick said with a smile.
        Schanke shook his head.  "Women.  I can never figure them
out."
        "And you probably shouldn't try.  They're more interesting
that way."
        "More frustrating, annoying, and..."
        "Mysterious," Nick finished.
        Schanke narrowed his eyes and focused his gaze on
Nick. "What mysterious woman might we be talking about, here?
Natalie?  Or that finished piece of marble at the Raven?"
        Nick smiled.  "Who said I was talking about anyone in
particular?"
        "Oh, if I know you, partner, and I do, one of them has
obviously been leading you a mysterious, but enjoyable, dance."
        "HA! That's what you know!" Nick said with a laugh.
        "Methinks you do protest way too much..."
        The phone rang, interrupting the escalating argument.  "Just
hold that thought, Knight," Schanke said as he picked up the phone.
"Detective Schanke."
        He listened for a moment, and then looked at Nick with a
distinctly appalled look.  "Yeah, right.  We're rolling."
        He put the phone down carefully and looked at Nick.  "We have
a double homicide.  They just found a patrol car outside an abandoned
building over on Dundas.  The officers missed their last two
check-ins.  The patrol that found the car called for backup and
searched the building.  They found them in the basement; both are dead
from *multiple* gunshots.  They were cut to pieces, Nick, and
apparently there is a message scribbled on the wall in blood, 'I'll
get all of you,' or something like that."  Schanke looked at Nick.
"Somebody is hunting cops."
        Nick looked at Schanke's white face.  It was a cop's worst
nightmare.  And Nick's...  There was prickling in his spine at the
thought.   Nick had been hunted several times in his long life.  It
usually brought out the worst in him, especially when cornered.
Vampires take it very personally when hunted.
        Nick shook away his dark, brooding thoughts and saw Schanke
was caught up in his own unpleasant memories.  Schanke had been a
target, too, not so very long ago.  Nick had hidden Schanke at the
Raven after his motel room had been blown into tiny pieces, and
Schanke had barely escaped with his life.
        Schanke, Nick recalled, wasn't any good at hiding either.  He'd
gone after his assailant and by sheer luck, and Nick's timely arrival,
had survived.
        Nick hated hunters.  They were usually obsessive, compulsive
and totally irrational in the pursuit of their goal.  Nick and
Schanke's eyes met and locked in complete understanding.
        "Then I guess we'd better get over there and figure out who is
doing this and stop them before they kill again," Nick said quietly
        "Yeah," Schanke said as he stood and followed Nick out of the
precinct in a somber mood.

        Nick pulled the Caddy up next to one of at least a dozen
police cars at the abandoned Smythe building at 1823 Dundas Street.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen this many police cars in
the same place.  He already knew he didn't like it.
        Schanke was out of the car before Nick even had a chance to
kill the motor, and bounding towards the building with his coat
billowing behind him.  Nick followed more slowly, surveying the
surroundings.  There were warehouses to the left and across the
street, and an older building with no sign of life to the right.  Not
much chance of a witness.
        There were eight patrol cars, three plain police cars, (not
counting the Caddy), the Coroner's van, and Natalie's Taurus.  He
doubted she had arrived much before they had.  There was also, he
noted grimly, a News van, too.  How the hell, he thought, did they
get here so fast?
        The atmosphere was somber in the red and blue glare of
multiple flashing lights.  On the corner, two homeless men watched,
shading their eyes with their hands.
        "Knight!  Get a move on!" Schanke bellowed from the doorway of
the building where an officer stood guard.  Nick mentally filed his
observations and joined Schanke.
        "Apparently this building is supposed to be condemned,"
Schanke said grimly.  "It's not the safest place to be.  So no one is
supposed to go in here alone.  We're on the buddy system."
        Nick nodded.  "Okay, let's get in and get out, as quickly as
possible.  No sense anyone else losing their life here."
        Schanke let out his breathe, as if he'd been holding it.  His
face looked pasty in the glare of lights.  "I don't like this," he
muttered as he ducked through the doorway.  He hated enclosed spaces.
Ever since they had gone underground to find the crazy guy with his
personal flame-thrower, Don had felt a little claustrophobic in dark,
enclosed places.  His throat felt tight and dry as dust, but he was
damned if he was going to let Nick know about his little problem.  He
forged down the hallway, marked by dimly lit flares.
        "Follow the yellow-brick road...," Schanke muttered, "no...make
that more like the ominous red flares.  Lions and tigers and flares,
oh my."
        "What?" Nick asked, knowing what he'd heard, but not believing
he'd heard Schanke say it.
        "Nothing, Knight, nothing," Schanke said over his shoulder.
        Nick smiled, amused at the bizarre visions it brought to mind.
        The building was cold and dank, and smelled of dead and
rotting vermin.  Like an ill-omen, the odor followed after them.  The
walls they passed were crumbling and water-stained.  The floor groaned
under them as they walked down the hallway.  Nick followed Schanke
closely, searching the darkness with his "night vision" as they moved
further into the interior, not liking the situation at all.  Maybe Oz
wasn't so far off the mark, but his personal inclination was towards
Dante's Inferno.
        "Quinci non passa mai anima buona...(no good soul ever takes
its passage here)" Nick murmured quietly, and then added ominously,
"intrai per lo cammino alto e silvestro (I entered on the steep and
savage path)*."  He felt a shiver ripple down his back, and hoped his
words were not an omen.
     The flares marked the central stairwell that descended into the
basement.  It seemed to be a yawning black pit, lit by the red fires
of hell to Nick's suddenly fertile imagination.  He glanced at Schanke
and wondered what he was thinking.  At least this area seemed more
stable.  The reinforced concrete stairwell, Nick surmised, was
probably supporting the building.  He hoped.
        Their footsteps reverberated loudly as they descended into the
basement.  As they exited the stairwell, they could hear voices
resonating oddly around them.  Except for an occasional word, it was
unintelligible.  They followed the flares into a cavernous room with
pillars spaced every twenty or thirty feet.  In some areas, the
ceiling had caved in.  Spotlights illuminated the far northeast corner
of the room where fourteen or fifteen people were milling about,
uselessly, in Nick's estimation.
        Nick could see Natalie's burnished hair glinting as she knelt
beside one of the victims.  Her voice suddenly could be heard clearly
among the echoing chatter.
        "..somebody knew what they were doing, these officers were cut
to pieces...," Natalie said to an officer bending over beside her.
The rest of the sentence was lost in the odd acoustics.
        Even as they entered the room, Nick was assaulted by the
coppery scent permeating the room.  A mist of blood, like a sauna,
enveloped him.  With a barely discernible hesitation in his step, Nick
forced his concentration on Natalie, and grinding his teeth together,
he stopped his fangs from dropping.  He went a little paler, if it was
possible.
        Schanke, glancing over at him, saw the miniscule amount of
color in his partner's face drain away and shook his head.  "Man,
Knight, you are the most squeamish homicide detective I know.  It's
just a little hemoglobin."
        The joking hid his own uneasiness as they walked towards the
battery of lights.  They had to step carefully to avoid the spent
brass that littered the floor.  They picked their way silently and
carefully to a position behind Natalie.  Schanke moved back a bit, to
avoid stepping in the large pool of sticky black blood.  He felt a
little queasy himself.  He liked to tease Nick, because it was the only
discernible weakness in the guy, but this...this was a little tough
even for the most hardened cop.  The bodies were almost severed in
half from the violence of the attack.  They had easily taken 60 or 70
rounds each from a semi-automatic weapon.  Someone had kept shooting
long after they were dead.  Reloaded and kept shooting.
        "Actually," Nick said finally, "it's a lot of blood.  Somebody
wanted to do more than kill these officers, they wanted to make a
statement."  He pointed at the wall as he spoke, and Schanke looked up
from the bodies to the sign scrawled in blood on the wall.
        "'Pigs!  You deserve to die.  I'm gonna get you all!'" Nick
read aloud.  "Well, he's pretty straightforward about his intentions."
        Schanke shook his head.  "Yeah, but why?"
        Nick shrugged.  "He could've been in jail or prison, and just
wanted to get even for getting caught, or maybe he's got some
grievance against the police department.  Who knows?"
        "This does not make me feel good, Knight.  Not.  At.  All.
It's like having your back prickle all the time because you just know
somebody has got a bead on you."
        "No," Nick agreed, "it doesn't feel good."  He paused for a
moment as some particularly pungent blood laden air wafted up his
nose.  He exhaled noticeably, and then looked at Schanke.  "Well, we
are now in charge of this crime scene.  Let's take charge.  You want
to talk to the officers who discovered it or Natalie?"
        "I'll take the officers.  You can take Natalie.  Wouldn't want
you to miss a chance to spend time with your favorite coroner,"
Schanke said smartly.  He'd been doing a lot of suggesting and hinting
lately, hoping Knight would get the idea that Natalie was, he was
sure, just waiting for him to pop the question.  Nick was so dense
that Schanke was just about ready to apply a large dose of electrical
voltage to him to see if that would jump start his libido.  So, even at
a gruesome crime scene, he took whatever opportunities he could.
        Nick gave him a knowing look, but merely nodded and moved over
to where Natalie was now looking at the second body.
        Schanke raised his voice and asked "Okay, who found the
bodies?"  First he wanted to know who the major players were, and then
he wanted to clear the crime scene.  There were too many officers
here.  Yeah, some of their own had died, but it didn't justify the
numbers currently milling around and very probably contaminating
evidence.
        "I did...er, that is, my partner, Office Chase, and I did," a
fresh-faced kid that didn't look old enough to be out of high school,
let alone a cop, said coming over to Schanke.  "I'm Officer Haymis.
Are you the investigating officer?"
        "Yeah, I'm Detective Schanke, and he's Detective Knight,"
Schanke said, jerking his head in Nick's general direction.  "We need
to get some control on this crime scene.  There's too many people here
and too much chance that somebody has touched something.  Who do we
really need here?"
        Nick tuned him out as he knelt by Natalie.  He looked at the
dead officer closely for the first time.  His face was untouched, except
for blood splatters, and the look in his eyes was one of disbelief.
It must have happened very quickly.  His gun was still in his
holster.  He'd never even had a chance to pull it.  So, Nick thought,
they had no suspicion of danger.  Then what brought them down here?
        "Hi, Natalie," Nick said softly.
        Natalie glanced up at Nick and then back down to the body,
where she was carefully taking a sample from the largest jagged wound.
        "Hi, Nick.  This your case?"
        "Yeah, what do you have?" Nick asked.
        "Not a lot, so far, at least that isn't obvious.  Somebody
blasted these guys with enough bullets to put down twenty or thirty
people."
        "I noticed," Nick said softly.
        Natalie, finished with the sample, rocked back on her heels
and took a close look at Nick.  The pallor of his face was
pronounced.  "Are you dealing with this okay?" she asked in concern.
        "Yeah," Nick said shortly.  "The air is a little thick in
here, and it's pushing my control, but if I don't have to stay here
too long, I should be okay."
        "Well, we are about ready to take the final photos, so we
should be able to move the bodies in the next twenty or thirty
minutes.  That ought to help."
        Nick merely nodded.  "So, have you noticed anything unusual?"
        "No, not really, except these guys were not expecting
trouble."
        "Yeah, I thought that myself."
        "So, why were they down here?  This is not the safest place in
the world."
        "Perhaps they had a meet set up," Nick suggested.
        "Maybe.  I can think of better places."
        "Sometimes you don't get a choice."
        "Oh," Natalie said.  "Well, that may be true.  Anyway,
somebody shot these guys with a semi-automatic, at least.  The slugs
were 9mm.  The brass is pretty thick on the floor, in case you hadn't
noticed," Natalie said dryly.
        "I noticed," Nick said.
         "We should be able to positively identify the weapon if you
find it, with this much evidence."
        Nick nodded.  "Okay.  Thanks.  Let me know if you find
anything else interesting."
        Natalie smiled.  "Sure, Nick."
        He stood and looked for Schanke.  It looked like he was deep
in an interview with the officers who'd found the bodies.  Nick turned
and surveyed the room to get a sense of the scene.  The officers had
apparently walked across the open space to this corner--without
concern--and without drawing their weapons.  Perhaps, Nick thought,
they had seen their contact in this corner and walked across to meet
him.  Maybe he'd been hiding the weapon under his coat and pulled it
out and starting shooting as they had arrived.
        On the other hand, they could have been walked here at
gunpoint, Nick decided, possibly ambushed when they arrived.
        He looked at the writing on the wall.  Somebody was angry,
very angry at the police.  But why?  And what else did he have
planned?  This was too stage-managed to be...
        Nick felt the hair on his neck stand out straight.  This was a
set up.  "I'll get you all," Nick quoted softly.  He looked at the
room.  How many cops were here right now?  It would be a good start to
taking out as many cops as he could, by killing everyone in the room.
What better way to bait a trap for the police, than by killing some of
their own?
        He stared intently into the dark, scrutinizing the columns and
walls.  Nothing, nothing, nothing... Nick stopped and stared at the
third column on the left, up at the ceiling.  He walked towards it,
stepping into the quiet darkness, leaving Schanke, Natalie, and
the concentrated activity behind him.
        Nick circled around, approaching his target obliquely.  He
stopped at the base of the column and looked up.  There where it met
the ceiling was a tiny recording device.  It looked like a spy camera,
possibly sending a signal to a remote location.
        Nick felt a chill wash over him, as he looked back at Natalie,
at Schanke, at all the very vulnerable mortals.  The killer was
watching them.
        He walked as unconcernedly as possible back to Schanke, and
tapped him on the shoulder.
        Schanke stopped in mid-sentence.  "Yeah?"
        "We're being watched.  There's a recording device over there,
probably sending a signal to a receiver of some kind.  Something
sophisticated.  What do you know about remote video signals?"
        Schanke looked at him.  "What do you mean, someone is watching
us?"
        "I think the killer is watching, waiting for the moment when
the most officers are in here.  Those two dead officers are bait,
Schank.  This is a trap," Nick said.  "We need to get everybody out of
here, as rapidly as possible."
        Schanke stared at him.  "You sure?"
        "As sure as I can be.  It's a gut call, but that camera is
definitely sending a signal.  Who else would be interested?"
        Schanke shook his head in disbelief.  "What about sound?  Can
he hear us?"
        "I don't know," Nick admitted.  "I couldn't tell.  I don't
know a lot about this kind of stuff.  We need an expert."
        "Jake Castleton," Schanke said suddenly.  "He'd know.  He
works in the sound and imaging lab."
        Nick pulled his cell phone out as Schanke rattled on, and
looked in dismay at the signal reception.  "I'm not getting a signal.
There's some kind of interference..."
        Schanke blinked and pulled his phone out.  "Me, neither.
That's funny, they called out of here earlier, I'm..."
        He trailed off and they looked at each other.
        "Oh boy...," Schanke whispered.
        "I want you to head top-side to warn them and start searching
for the signal," Nick said abruptly.
        "Yeah, maybe we can cut it off," Schanke agreed, sweating
visibly.
        "And I'll start the evacuation.  We don't want to alarm
this guy in any way."
        "What do you suppose he's got planned?" Schanke asked.
        "I don't know, but I'm sure I'm not going to like it" Nick
said, "get going, Schanke."

        Schanke headed off at a trot, yelling at an officer to go with
him, and Nick turned to survey the room.  There were too many damned
people in here.  He grabbed an officer.
        "We need to evacuate the room ASAP.  This is a trap."
        "Wha..??" the officer said in confusion.
        "It's a set up.  Those officers died so they could be bait.
This guy wants to take out more cops," Nick said tightly.  "A lot
more, and this is about as many as he's going to get at one blow.  But
do it discreetly.  Send them out a few at a time, if possible."
        The officer nodded and moved off.
        Nick headed for Natalie, as quickly as he dared.
        Natalie was consulting with Jerry Birch about moving the
bodies when Nick knelt at her side.  "Nat," he said urgently.  Natalie
waved a hand in his direction as she continued talking.  Nick grabbed
it urgently and jerked on it.
        "Oww.. Nick! What are you do..."
        "Natalie!  Listen," Nick cut her off.  "We've got to evacuate,
this is a trap.  These men were killed to bait a trap."
        Natalie stared at him.  "What do you mean?"
        Jerry Birch stared open-mouthed, glancing back and forth
between and Natalie and Detective Knight, as Nick pointed at the sign.
"He wants to kill as many police as possible.  Nat, there's a camera
back there that is sending out a signal.  He's watching, and I think
he's going to try and kill as many as he can.  These men will have to
wait until we can secure the area, now let's go."
        Nick pulled Natalie to her feet, almost roughly in his fear.
Jerry stared up at them and asked, "Are you serious?"
        Nick looked at him, "Dead serious, Jerry; get out of here
now."
        Natalie grabbed her bag and without further hesitation said,
"Let's go, Nick."  She recognized the look on his face and knew he was
scared.  Not for himself, but for her, for all of them.
        The officer Nick had warned was beginning to make an impact on
the crowd, two officers were a third of the way across the room, and
three more were now moving casually towards the only exit--the central
stairway.
        Nick, with Natalie a half step behind him, began walking
rapidly across the room.  Nick stopped abruptly and looked back
towards the camera as Natalie ran into him.  "Nick?" she asked
uncertainly.
        "No...," Nick whispered as he heard with his preternaturally
acute hearing the sudden ticking of a timer.  He stared hard and
suddenly saw a tiny light now flashing in the dark.  Counting down to
disaster, then he saw another and another and ... another.    Tiny red
markers, counting out the moments of life left.
        They were out of time.
        Nick yelled, "There's a bomb!  RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"
        People stared as he grabbed Natalie and began running, and
then they, too, ran.  The ticking began to blend together as the 15
second timers ran down.  Nick pulled Natalie hard against him and quite
literally turned into a blur as he flew for the exit.
        BOOM!  The sound was deafening as the explosives buried in the
pillars blew.  Screams blended into the horrendous noise as the
building began to collapse.  To those running flat out towards the
stairway, there was no chance.  None at all.  The blast's shock wave
knocked them off their feet as they were shredded by flying debris,
and milliseconds later, they were buried under tons of rubble and
concrete, as the building collapsed.
        Schanke, standing next to a patrol car, talking rapidly on his
cell phone in an effort to get somebody--anybody--there to help with
signal tracking, turned as the blast reached them and the building
crackled and collapsed in seemingly slow motion.  Don Schanke was
blown back against the car and slid down the side as the shock wave
pounded him as it blew past.  The concussive impact of the sound on
his ears deafened him.  And he watched in absolute horror as the
building disappeared into the basement, where thirteen police
officers, his partner, and Natalie Lambert were...
        For twenty or thirty seconds there was only the sound of
collapsing rubble, and then silence.  Absolute and utter silence.  No
one moved, no one said anything.  They just stared.  Several of them
had blown eardrums from the force of the blast and were in shock.
        "Oh, God, please let them be alive!" Schanke pleaded as fear
choked his voice and tears slid down his face.  His disbelief was
mirrored on every single face around him.  Then Don realized he was
still holding his cell phone.  Numbly he called dispatch.
        "We need help here.  The building just blew up.  There are at
least fifteen people in there.  Send the damn fire department, the
paramedics, and the ambulances!"
        "How many?"
        "Send them all, dammit!" Schanke swore and switched it off.
He jumped to his feet and ran towards the pile of rubble that had
recently been a building containing a crime scene and was now a tomb
for the most irritating, obnoxious, annoying partner a man could have,
and he would give anything to have him standing beside him irritating
and annoying him.  Without a doubt, Nick had saved his life when he
sent him out.  Schanke could only hope that somehow he had found a way
to survive this.  Nick had always seemed so indestructible...
        Schanke stood there staring, scanning for any signs of life,
his coat billowing in the cloud of dust and debris rising like hot
angry steam from the area.



Chapter 2

O day untowardly turned!
  -- Much Ado About Nothing Act III, Scene II

        "We have cordoned off the entire block.  Nobody is getting in
or out unless they are part of the rescue effort.  We've got dogs
sniffing for explosives in every single building on this block, and
we're searching them all from top to bottom--including the roofs--for
signal receiving equipment, not to mention people," Harry Russell, head
of Emergency Response and Rescue, informed Commissioner Vetter, who
stood like a black thundercloud staring at the destruction.
         Schanke listened from where he sat a few meters away,
slumped on the hood of the Caddy, exhausted now that the adrenaline
had washed out of his system.  He felt oddly useless since the teams of
rescue workers and an organized hierarchy had arrived to take control.
He knew Russell was much better equipped to do the job, but it didn't
help.  He needed to be doing something.  He *wanted* to help find
Nick, and he *wanted* to do it right now!
        "We also have rescue crews searching the rubble for survivors.
We have rescue dogs working there, too.  Heavy equipment is on the
way, and should be here shortly to help lift debris out of the way.
If anybody is alive, they'll find them," Russell finished.
        Vetter stood with his hands on his hips, his lower lip
belligerently protruding.  "Who was here when it happened?" he
demanded angrily.  Schanke looked up and pushed himself off the Caddy
with a sigh.
        "I was, sir," Schanke said as he plodded wearily over to
Vetter.  Schanke could feel the anger radiating from him, and fought
the impulse to step back.  Vetter eyed him coldly.
        "Why the hell didn't someone realize what was going on
sooner?" Vetter demanded.
        Schanke felt anger rise up his throat at this incredibly
stupid question.  "Sir," he said carefully, "this was a set-up.  The
killer was watching the whole time.  His intent was to kill as many
police as possible.  This killer...this mad man...was waiting for the
moment of maximum destruction.  When we realized the situation and
began evacuating, he saw his chance slipping away and he set off the
detonation.  It was too late from the moment the bodies were found."
        Schanke managed to keep his temper from igniting, but it was
tough.  Vetter had been out of the field too long, and expected it to
be like TV.  He expected impossible miracles.  They stared at each
other, without blinking, anger fomenting the air between them.
Vetter, suddenly, looked away.
        "I want this man found, Detective, and I WANT him found today!
I expect a task force to be on this immediately!" Vetter barked out
and, turning on his heel, walked away.
        Schanke rocked back on his heels, feeling a moment of victory
in the bleakness of the waning night.  He'd stared down
Mister-know-it-all Commissioner Vetter, thank-you-very-much.  "Truth
will win the day," Schanke said softly.
        A brisk breeze fluffed his coat up around him, and sent a
shiver down his spine.  With the breeze came the acrid scent of
explosive residues and concrete dust.  Schanke's shoulders slumped as
he turned around to face the giant lights that lit up the debris field
and men and dogs crawling across the rubble.
        He stared blankly for a moment, as his mind balked against the
reality before him, and then as his glance settled on the concrete
column still standing where the central stairwell had been, Schanke
reminded himself that there was some hope.  If they had gotten into
the stairwell, if they had gotten up it at all, they might be alive.
The stairwell was built of reinforced concrete, and though the top of
it had collapsed down, Russell was pretty sure that it was partially
intact.  It was possible there might be survivors in there.  They just
had to remove a lot of rubble and break through the concrete to find
out.
        Time was moving fast against them.  The longer people were
under, the less chance there was of finding survivors.  "Please be
alive, Nick," Schanke pleaded, "and I hope to God you've got Natalie
and as many other people as you could in there with you."
        "Detective?"
        Schanke turned to find Russell watching him sympathetically.
"If they're alive, we will find them."
        "I know," Schanke said softly, feeling tears rising.
         A tall lanky man in a hard hat approached them, looking at
Russell in his bright orange jacket.
        "Are you Harry Russell?" he asked.
        "Yeah?"
        "They said you were in charge.  The crane will be here in
about five more minutes.  We need some help clearing out part of the
parking lot to set it up."
        "Yeah, Russell said, "I'm in charge.  Let's get this
organized."  He looked around and grabbed the nearest officer.
Schanke saw it was Officer Haymis, the fresh-faced kid he'd grabbed as
his buddy when he'd come out of the basement.  "Officer," Russell said,
getting his attention, "would you clear whatever area this man needs
for the crane?"
        Haymis nodded, "Yes, sir," and headed out.  Only as he walked
away, did Schanke realize he didn't have that fresh-faced look
anymore. There had been tears making tracks down his face, cutting a
path through the dirt and dust on his face.  Just like Schanke, he'd
probably lost his partner tonight.
        "Sorry, kid," Schanke said quietly as he walked back and
parked himself once more on the Caddy.  "Maybe we can deal with our
pain after this is over.  When we know for sure.  When we've caught
this bastard."

        The concrete groaned and shifted, and dust sifted through the
air, rippling downward, seeking ground. The darkness was complete,
making every sound more ominous.  Nick coughed dust out of his
lungs and throat as consciousness roared back.  He shook more dust out
of his hair and took stock of the situation.  His hand was caught
between jagged blocks of concrete, and Natalie lay beneath him,
utterly silent.  He smelled the sweet aroma of blood, Natalie's blood.
And then, only then, did he realize he felt pain--or something close
to it--in his crushed hand.  Suddenly the beast flared to life and
gold bubbled up in his eyes, glowing in the darkness.  Nick
caught his breath and instinctively leaned downed against Natalie's
neck and inhaled.  His fangs brushed her neck...
        Gasping, Nick jerked back, away, away from Natalie, as far as
he could with his hand held in a vise of rusted metal and rock.  Their
prison groaned as Nick collided with rubble.  He still lay half across
Natalie.  There wasn't any space to get away from her.  No space...
Nick closed his eyes and struggled against the need for blood to heal,
and finally willed it away.
        Then he touched Natalie with his free hand, and listened
intently.  Only her beating heart and soft breath told him she lived.
He couldn't tell what was wrong with her.  He needed to get his hand
free.  He needed to find out what kind of space they were in.  He
needed to... Nick suddenly realized he was beginning to panic and took
several breaths to calm himself.
        "I can't help Natalie," he murmured, "until I help myself.  I
can only do one thing at a time, and then I can move on.  Just take it
one step at a time."  Nick closed his eyes on the thought and searched
for inner calm to do just that.
        Slowly he shifted himself off of Natalie and slid along side
of her.  He looked around in the dark and examined the bounds of their
prison.  They were in a corner of the stairwell, and the walls in the
corner still held their shape.  A large steel beam had come down, and
held a massive concrete block from collapsing on them.  In the corner,
Nick was sure there was enough head room to sit up, but only in the
corner.  The beam slanted towards the floor by where the exit door for
the first floor ought to be.  But all Nick could see was a mass of
broken concrete blocks and debris.  They had a small triangular cubby
hole about 2 meters long--and that was it.
        He sniffed carefully, and was relieved to detect air flow.  At
least they wouldn't run out of air.  He could survive without it, but
Natalie couldn't.
        He felt blood trickling sluggishly down his arm, and decided
he'd better do something about his hand.  He pulled gently, but there
was no give.  It was trapped between a piece of concrete and a metal
beam embedded in concrete.  Nick reached out with his other hand and
slowly and carefully bent the metal beam back enough that the concrete
gave a little.  He reached out and crushed the concrete to dust and
his hand slipped free.
        Several bones were broken, and the fleshy palm was cut open
cleanly to the bone.  Nick wrapped his handkerchief around it and tied
it off, then he felt the bones carefully and snapped a couple of them
into place, thankful he'd spent enough time as a doctor to know where
they belonged.  His hand begin to heal immediately.  That was good and
bad.  Good that he'd be healed.  Bad because then he would need blood
more than ever.
        Sighing, Nick shifted and sat up and then carefully examined
Natalie.  As far as he could tell, she had no broken bones, but she
had a nasty cut on her head, and a bruise was already forming over her
left eye.
        "Concussion," Nick murmured, "and a head wound.  Could be
worse."  He realized he had nothing to bandage her head with, and was
about to take his shirt off when he realized he might have a better
alternative.  "Sorry, Nat," Nick said softly as he pulled her skirt up
and ripped the bottom of her slip off.  It was softer and probably
cleaner than his shirt.
        Carefully he bandaged her head wound and then he pulled her
head up into his lap, elevating it slightly.  He hoped that would be
enough.  He also hoped she would wake up soon.  He'd rather have her
awake with a pounding headache, than in a coma from bruising and
swelling of the brain.
        Natalie suddenly coughed, and her eyes fluttered open.  She
gagged as dust filtered down onto her.  Nick breathed a sigh of
relief.
        "Nat?  Are you okay?" he asked anxiously.
        "Ooooo..."
        "Nat?"
        "My head...," Natalie moaned as she put a hand up to feel it.
        "You've got a concussion," Nick informed her, "you need to lie
still."
        Natalie gasped as her hand came away sticky with blood.  "I'm
bleeding..."
        "I know," Nick said, carefully keeping his voice neutral, as
he swallowed down his desire.  "Nat..."
        "I feel sick...," Natalie moaned.  "Wha..what happened? Why is
it so dark in here?"  Natalie tried to sit up, and Nick stopped her.
        "Nick!"
        "Natalie," Nick said patiently, "don't sit up, there isn't
room."
        "Where are we?" Natalie asked, her voice suddenly small and
uncertain.
        "We're in the stairwell, on the main floor, in a tiny little
pocket that's about two meters long and at the tallest, a half meter.
The building blew up."
        "Oh...it what?" Natalie asked confused.  "What are you talking
about?"
        "Don't you remember, the basement, the dead police officers,
the camera, and trying to evacuate?"
        Natalie was silent, trying to think through a pounding
headache.  "Sort of.  It all seems kind of hazy."
        "I'm not surprised, the shock wave and the sound were pretty
overwhelming.  It even knocked me out," Nick looked at his watch, "for
over forty minutes, which is really unusual."
        "Nick...," Natalie said hesitantly.
        "Yeah?"
        "Does anybody know we are alive?  Does anybody know we are
here?"
        "I don't know.  I sent Schanke out to try and intercept the
signal, but whether they'll think anybody is still alive?  I don't
know.  I'm sure they'll be looking, but it's going to take some time."
        Natalie started to shiver as shock took over.
        "Natalie, are you okay?"
        "Yes, umm, no.  I think I'm going into shock.  Maybe."
        Nick carefully pulled his coat off, and tucked it around her.
"I'm sorry, but that's all I've got..."
        "Nick?" Natalie asked, as Nick trailed off and his hands
stilled on her shoulders.
        "DAMN!" Nick said as he abruptly rummaged through the pockets
of the jacket.
        "What?"
        "I forgot about my cell phone."
        "What?" Nat asked again, confused.
        "The cell phone, maybe it's still working," Nick said
excitedly.
        Natalie listened as he opened it up.  A faint green glow lit the
tiny space.
        "Yes!" Nick whispered.  "It's working."
        "Thank God!" Natalie said and touched his arm hopefully.
        Nick dialed Schanke and listened to the phone ring.  The
signal was good, despite the rubble around them.
        "Schanke," Don said in clipped, angry tones.
        "Schanke..." Nick said quietly.
        "......NICK!  NICK??? Is that you?  Where are you?  WHERE THE
HELL ARE YOU?" Schanke shouted
        Nick winced and pulled the phone away from his ear.
        "NICK!  Nick?"
        "Schanke, tone it down, would you?" Nick said as he took
Natalie's hand in his and squeezed gently.  Her hand moved hopefully
in his.
        "Nick, we thought you were dead...why aren't you dead?  I
mean, uh, not that I want you to be dea...hell!  Sorry, I'm a
little over the edge here," Schanke said, totally rattled.  A big smile
lit his face though.  His irritating and annoying partner was still alive!
        "S'okay, Schank," Nick said with a smile. "We understand."
        "WE?  You've got someone with you?  Tell me you've got Natalie
there, Nick and I'll feel a little less like the world ended."
        "I've got Natalie, Schanke, but that's all.  I don't know
about anyone else.  I don't think anyone else had made it into the
stairwell when it went off."
        "Oh, my God!" Schanke said, and closed his eyes.  He was
totally unaware of the people crowding around him, listening, hoping,
praying for any kind of news.
        "Listen, Schanke, Natalie's got a concussion, and a head
wound.  I think it might still be bleeding, and she's going into
shock.  What kind of rescue effort are you mounting?"
        "Is she going to be okay?" Schanke asked anxiously.
        "Yeah, she'll be okay, but the sooner we get some medical
attention, the better."
        Natalie smiled in the dark as she listened.  Schanke was so
loud, she could hear without even trying.  She held Nick's hand even
more tightly, grateful he was with her.  Without him, she knew she
would be dead.
        "What about you," Schanke asked, as he held his hand out to
stop the questions people were starting to ask.
        "I'm fine.  I've got a couple of bruises, but that's about
all," Nick said.  His hand was already healed.
        "Okay, great," Schanke said.  "Do you have any idea where you
are in the stairwell?"
        "Yeah, in the corner opposite the first floor exit.  We had
almost made it up the stairs when it came down.  That's the good
news.  The bad news is there's a steel I-beam over our heads that is
holding several tons of concrete from coming down on us.  We're in a
space that's about 2 meters long, 1 wide by a half meter high, at the
highest."
        "How can you tell all that?  Isn't it dark in there?" Schanke
asked, the detective's instincts kicking into gear.
        "Yeah, it's pitch black.  But the corner still feels like a
corner and I know where I was when it came down.  And I can still
feel, Schank," Nick said, amused.
        Natalie rolled her eyes at Nick's blatant lie. "Yeah, right,"
she murmured.
        Nick grinned openly at Natalie's understanding.
        "Okay.  That will help.  It gives us a place to start.  We can
still see the stairwell structure, Nick.  It seems to have held up,
sort of.  They have a crane that is..." Schanke looked around, and saw
the truck turning into the parking lot, "...just arriving.  They'll be
getting that set up, pronto, pard.  But that's about the only good
news.  I don't have any idea how long it will take or how many
precautions they'll have to take in lifting the rubble off to get
there.  It's pretty unstable."
        A groan and a crackling sound, as debris settled, underscored
Schanke's remark.  Nick looked up at the I-Beam, and hoped it would
hold.
        "Thanks, Schank.  Listen, since we don't have any idea of how
long we're going to be in here, I think I'd better conserve my
batteries.  It's already down to half.  Why don't we set up some kind
of schedule for checking in?"
        "Yeah, that would probably be good," Schanke agreed.  "How
about every hour.  And if you have some emergency, you can call
in-between, but otherwise we'll keep it to hourly check-ins.  I don't
think they're going to be making much progress for a while, so that
ought to be often enough."
        "Okay.  My watch says...four-thirty-three.  I'll call again at
five-thirty."
        "Okay.  We'll work up a list of questions by then, I'm sure,
about your situation.  Uh, I guess you haven't heard anybody else?"
        Nick was quiet for a moment, listening.  All he heard was
silence.  "No, Schank."
        Both were silent for a moment.
        "All right.  We'll try to get organized, here.  I'll talk to
you in an hour, pard."
        "Okay," Nick said.
        "Uh, Nick?"
        "Yeah?"
        "Thanks."
        "For what?"
        "For saving my life... For sending me out of there, for
figuring it out, for all of it.  I owe you."
        For once Nick had no easy come-back or deflecting remark.  He
hadn't even realized it, until now.  He was glad he'd sent Schanke
out, too.  He would hate to lose his rumpled, garlic-scented,
wise-cracking partner.
        "You're welcome," Nick said simply.  "Just come and get us, and
we'll call it even."
        "You got it," Schanke said fervently.
        Nick powered his cell phone down and closed it.
        "Now," he said softly to Natalie, "they know where to find
us."
        "Any idea how long?" Natalie asked wistfully, wishing there
was a quick way out of here, and a bed she could go crawl into and get
warm.
        "No, but it'll be several hours, I think, maybe longer.
They've got a crane on the scene now, but they're going to be careful
how they lift the debris off of us.  They may have to shore it up to
prevent the rubble from collapsing.  This building is very unstable."
        "Oh..."
        "Nat?"
        "Yes."
        "I'll get you out of here safely.  I promise."  He kissed her
hand softly, gently.
        "I know you will."
        Nick was silent, feeling tears rising.  Until now, he hadn't
really had time to think about their situation.  Not really.  He
hadn't thought about how close Natalie had come to dying, how very
close.  His grip tightened convulsively on her hand and he struggled
to control his emotions.
         While he had been busy, assessing their situation, taking care
of Natalie, he'd been able to hold his feelings in abeyance.  Before
the explosion, there had been no time to think, only time to act, and
react, as fast as possible.  He knew that in his panic, when he'd
realized the building was being detonated, that he'd flown; he'd taken
Natalie in his arms and flown.  He'd flown as fast as he dared with a
mortal.  It hadn't been fast enough.  He would have willingly exposed
his secret to get her out of that building.  He'd failed.  Natalie was
still in danger.  There was still so many things that could go wrong,
and if Natalie died, so would his hope.
        It had not been that long ago that she'd been shot in the
robbery at the jewelry store.  He could still remember exactly how
he'd felt when Schanke had phoned him with the news.  He'd been filled
with so much pain, so much fear.  So many emotions he hadn't known
he'd had.  It had been a defining moment, when he had finally
acknowledged how much she meant to him, not only for what she was
attempting to do for him, but just for who she was.  Natalie.  There
had never been anybody like her in all his life, not in all his
eight-hundred-plus years.
        It had been then, in his desperation and fear, that he had
unearthed the ring from his collection and put it on again.  He was
still wearing it, despite its fragility.  He stared down at it through
the darkness, and wondered why it was such a strong symbol of hope for
him.  It was something he would probably never know, since he could
not remember why or when he had obtained it.  He only knew it was
important.  Maybe it would help him get Natalie out of here.  He hoped
so, he would do anything to save Natalie.
        He kissed her hand again, feeling the texture of her hand
against his lips, feeling her warmth and caring.  Natalie...
        Natalie felt his lips brush her hand, and felt a wave of
feelings sweep across her.  Adrenaline, she told herself.  It's just
adrenaline.  But she knew it wasn't.
        It was his touch.  She needed his touch, longed for it, wished
for it, wanted it, prayed for it, and treasured it.  And yet, day by
day she denied herself because Nick didn't remember.  Only she
remembered what happened so long ago, and yet not so long ago in far
away France.  Her memories haunted her and warmed her.  They were so
painful, yet so joyful.  But they were only memories.  Her memories.
Not Nick's.  Her choice that he didn't remember.
        "Better that way," Natalie murmured unthinkingly.
        "Better what way?" Nick asked as he stroked her hair gently
out of her face.
        Natalie felt heat rise to her face, and hoped Nick wouldn't
notice.  "Nothing.  I was just thinking it was better that we don't
know every move they're making.  It would be so...nerve-wracking.
Nick, I'm not a very patient person.  I hate feeling trapped."
        "Maybe you should rest a bit, that'll help time pass."
        "I've got a concussion, Nick," Natalie said a little
acerbically.
        "I know."
        "I'm not supposed to sleep."
        "You're not supposed to *worry*.  I'm here to observe you.
That's what they do with a concussion, stick you in the hospital and
observe you.  Then they wake you up every couple of hours to make sure
you are okay.  I can do that."
        "Nick..."
        "I don't think it's that bad.  I've had the basic courses,
Nat.  You're not experiencing weakness or numbness.  You're memory is
pretty much intact.  I don't see any of the signs of severe brain
trauma.  So rest a bit."
        Natalie smiled.  "I forgot."
        "Forgot what?"
        "That you were a doctor."
        "It's been a while, you know."
        "For somebody with perfect recall, I don't think it matters."
        "Yeah, well, I don't suppose they still use mustard poultices
to cleanse wounds anymore, so I may be just a little out of date."
        Natalie laughed, as he meant her to.  "That sounds so gross,
Nick."
        "It smelled pretty bad, too."
        "What was it like?" Natalie asked, curious, "the Civil War?"
        Nick stared into the darkness, into the past, and momentarily
lost himself in his memories, remembering...
        "Nick?"
        "...Oh, sorry, Nat, I was just reme..."
        "remembering.  I know, but do you think you can tell me about
it while you do it?" Natalie asked plaintively.
        "It's ancient history, Nat.  Why do you want to know?"
        Natalie was silent for a moment.  "For a lot of reasons, I
guess, it's not everyday you can ask somebody who was there, and get a
first-hand report of history.  Because it's fascinating.  And mostly,
Nick, I suppose it's because *you* were there.  And as a doctor, no
less.  It just fascinates me.  So, c'mon, Nick, tell me.  Besides
it'll help keep me awake, and let me think about something else
besides this headache."
        Nick smiled tenderly at her, even though he knew she couldn't
see him in the dark.  "Okay."  He thought for a moment and then began
to speak.
        "I wasn't involved with the Civil War, at first, at least not
directly.  LaCroix, Janette, and I were making our way out of the
South, because it was obvious war was coming, when we ran across a man
and his son--slaves--trying to escape through the underground
railroad.  LaCroix wanted to kill them, and Janette agreed with him,
but I looked into his face and saw someone fighting for his right to
be free.  Someone just like me.  The only difference was his fight was
because of the color of his skin.  Some slave owner figured he owned
him just as much as LaCroix thinks he owns me."
        Natalie tightened her grip on Nick's hand, but said nothing.
Nick stared down at her hand and then began stroking it with his
other hand, lightly, gently.
        "So I got involved in the railroad for a while.  Off and on.
I did that until the war started, and then I went North for a while.
Mainly so I could avoid the others."
        "The others?" Natalie asked, quietly.
        "Yeah, wars are sort of like a dessert bar for vampires.
They're camp-followers, or perhaps death-followers is a better
description.  During and after any pitched battle that occurs at or
near night, you'll find vampires, taking the lives of those who are
dying or wounded.  It's easy hunting, Nat.  I hated it.  LaCroix used
to love that sort of thing, but I never did.  Maybe because I'd been
wounded in battle, I don't know.  I'm not boring you, am I?" Nick asked
suddenly.
        "No, it's interesting.  Keep going.  When am I ever going to
have you captive again.  This may be my only chance to learn about
your past."
        Nick laughed.  "Well, some of it anyway.  There are parts, you
know, that I really don't care to think about."  Nick sobered.  "Nat,
you know I've done some really terrible things..."
        "Nick...," Natalie said softly, stopping him.  "I know, Nick,
or at least as much as I can, but they are your past, too.  We're all
the sum of the good and bad decisions we make, and somehow, despite
all the evil you may have done, the good still outweighs it.  If it
didn't, you wouldn't be here, you wouldn't be who you are."
        Nick squeezed her hand tightly, and she felt the impression of
his ring acutely as it bit into her hand.
        "Let's stick to the Civil War, okay?"  Nat said.  She spoke a
little sharply, mainly because she was starting to feel sick to her
stomach.  She hoped she wasn't going to throw up on top of everything
else.  She hoped Nick understood.
        Nick snorted softly.  "Okay, the Civil War.  Anyway, I went
North and I was staying near Kewaskum, Wisconsin, and I met this
doctor--which is another story entirely--trust me.  His name was Jacob
Knibbs.  Short summary, I saved his life, and helped nurse him back to
health.  And then I stayed on.  He was very persistent, and before I
knew it, he was teaching me how to be a doctor.  He said I was a
natural, can you imagine that, Nat?"
        "Yes, I can.  I'd love to see you as a doctor."
        "Yeah, well, I might look the part in scrubs, but I could never
pull it off now, not without actually going to med school.  That'd be
a trick, finding a school that would let me go through on night
classes only.
        Natalie snickered.
        "Anyway, Jacob never really recovered fully from his wound,
and he died in the fall of 1862, and I decided that maybe I could make
a difference in the war, for good, so I volunteered.  They made me a
captain, because I was a doctor.  Captain Knight.  That was the last
time I used that name until now.  I've always liked it, you know."
        "I like it, too," Natalie said slowly.  Her eyes were drooping
and she felt weary.
        Nick smoothed her hair back.  "I joined Grant's troops in
December of 1862 at the beginning of the Vicksburg Campaign.  We
suffered heavy losses at Chicasaw Bluffs, because of rifled muskets.
Before the Civil War, muskets were smooth-bored, and people could get
within spitting distance before you'd hit anything, but with rifled
muskets, you can aim accurately up to 250 feet.  They were still
fighting the way they'd fought for centuries, only with modern rifles,
and they dropped like flies.  We didn't take Vicksburg until April."
        "Is it true you would be up to your armpits in blood when you
operated?" Natalie asked, her eyes shut as she listened.
        "Sometimes.  What was worse was there were no antiseptics, no
anesthesia, nothing.  It was like that at Jerusalem, too, at any
battle, any war, in fact, until they discovered ether.  There's no
sound quite like that of a man having a limb removed--being sawn
off--while he's conscious, Nat.  Death was almost preferable.  Modern
medicine is truly wonderful, people have such an incredible chance to
live now, recover more fully when they are seriously injured.
        "Anyway, that was where I started combining what Jacob had
taught me, with my abilities as a vampire.  Now they would call it
alternative medicine, I guess.  I used hypnosis on them, made them
feel none of the pain, made them sleep, and it worked, Nat.  It was
amazing.  I was able to save so many.  For the first time in
centuries, I was doing some good in a war, not causing more death."
        Nick stopped as he realized Nat's breathing had deepened.  She
had fallen asleep.  Slowly he stroked her hair, and stared at her
face, cherishing each moment.  Odd that it would take something like
this to give him a chance to just hold her and care for her.  In a
strange way he was glad they were here.
        Cement shifted above him, and a small rockslide trickled down
as Nick leaned protectively over Natalie.  On the other hand, he hoped
they'd get out of here before it all collapsed.  He checked his watch
and saw he still had twenty minutes before the next check in--forever.



Chapter 3

Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
  -- Much Ado About Nothing, Act IV, Scene I

        Natalie came back to consciousness abruptly as the cement
suddenly shrieked.  Startled, she cried out.
        Nick instantly calmed her with his hand as he completed his
conversation with Schanke.
        "Okay, Schank.  I can hear it, too.  You should hear it from
in here.  Yeah, keep in touch," Nick said and powered the phone
down.
        "Nnnnick?" Natalie gasped, "what was that?"
        "That was the crane moving big chunks of concrete off of us.
Doesn't sound very good, does it?"
        "No.  It scared me to death," Natalie said as she relaxed and
lay her head back down in Nick's lap.  "Any idea how long?"
        "They think three or four hours, but maybe it won't be so
long."
        Natalie licked her lips. Her lips were dry and she was
thirsty.  Knowing there was no water only made it worse.  She tried to
think of something else, anything else, but couldn't.  Water, she
thought.  I want some water.  A sudden groaning and grinding of the
concrete above her distracted her from her thirst.
        "How long was I asleep?" Natalie asked finally, figuring
conversation was better than the fear pounding in her heart.
        "About twenty-five minutes."
        "Oh.  I was hoping I would sleep through this."
        "I could put you out again," Nick suggested.
        "No, I think I'd prefer to know I was going to die rather than
sleep through it."
        "Nat!"
        "Well, wouldn't you?"
        Nick laughed.  "I guess so.  I don't know."
        Silence suddenly filled the space, as the crane momentarily
stopped lifting.  In the quiet, Natalie was acutely aware of Nick's
hand stroking her hair gently, while his other hand held hers.  Nick.
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation.  So often she had
wanted to touch him and had been afraid to, terrified actually.  Nick
tended to keep things pretty casual, as if touch would somehow lead
to...well, danger.
        Just knowing he was here with her, was incredibly comforting.
If she had to die, at least she could be with Nick to the last.  She
rubbed her thumb against his fingers, feeling the strength in his
hand.  She played idly with his ring, feeling its smoothness against
her thumb, and then she realized it was *the* ring, reminding her
once more of her odd, unexplainable journey to another place and
time.  Knowing that in the past they had loved each other was
strangely comforting--even though Nick's memory of it was gone.  She
felt peaceful, despite their circumstances.
        It seemed strange that they could be so completely at peace
together in such dangerous circumstances, when normally things were so
much more difficult between them.  She had never told Nick how she
felt, at least, Natalie amended, not that he could remember.  Oh, he
probably knew.  He hadn't been around 800 years without learning
something, but still, she had never told him due to fear, mostly.
Fear of rejection, fear of acceptance, fear of the truth.  She had
never told him.  And Natalie suddenly decided that maybe it was time.
        So what if he was a vampire, and they could never be lovers
physically?  They couldn't stay where they were any longer, not
really.  She remembered something Nana had told her when she was a
teenager. 'Natasha, you can be friends with a boy--for a time--but
then it must become something more, or something less.  That is just
the way it is.'  She had told her that little piece of sage advice
over Mike Mason.  She and Mike had been friends, growing up together,
and then one day he'd treated her like she was a complete stranger, far
beneath his notice.  She hadn't understood and tried to talk to him.
Mike, like a typical teenage male, had avoided her completely.  In
desperation, she had talked to Nana.  She hadn't liked that piece of
advice, either.  But looking back on it, it had proved true more often
than not.
        And so here she was with Nick at a turning point.  They had
been friends a long time, and then slowly without their even noticing,
they had become something much more than friends.  Love had entered
the equation, along with a deep and abiding trust.  Everything had been
wonderful as they had slowly, but surely inched closer to each other.
And then, something had happened--on Valentine's day--something
important had happened, and unfortunately, Natalie didn't know what it
was.  But Nick had been distant ever since, except for when she'd been
in the hospital.
        For a brief time, it was as it had been before.  But now they
were back to friendly banter, and the gulf was widening.  She knew it,
and he knew it.  If you couldn't be close, then you had to move apart.
Just like Nana had said.  And Natalie didn't like that notion any
better now, than she had when Nana had first dispensed it.
        Maybe, Natalie thought, she should tell him about the ring.
Maybe--maybe not.  No.  Never.  She couldn't hurt him like that.  It
would devastate him to know what had happened, and could never happen
again.  She shied away from thinking about *that*, too, because those
memories were very hard to for her bear, knowing he didn't remember,
and wouldn't *ever* remember.
        But perhaps it was time for some other truths between them,
here in the dark, here in their own personal little world...
        Nick listened to Natalie's breathing, to her heart, felt her
warmth seeping into his thigh where her head rested and longed for
more.  Below the surface, trouble was looming.  He was hungry, and
getting hungrier.  He'd had time to reflect while Natalie had been
asleep, and taken a closer inspection of himself trying to determine
why he had been unconscious for so long.  He'd discovered the back of
his head was matted with dried blood.  More than his hand had been
injured in the explosion.  It explained a lot of things, specifically,
why he'd gone for Natalie.  The head injury had taken a lot of energy
to heal, leaving him dangerously hungry.  He swallowed as he felt the
hunger straining to reach out towards her blood, her strength.
        In the dark, his eyes glittered green-gold briefly, as he
clenched his jaw and struggled with his appetite once again.  The
desire was coming with greater frequency, and he was scared.
        He looked at his watch, only ten minutes had passed since his
conversation with Schanke.  Just great!  Time was at a standstill.  He
needed a diversion.  He needed it now.
        Concrete shrieked again above them.  Both winced.
        Silence.
        "Nick?" Natalie asked.
        "Yeah," Nick said grateful for any diversion, even
conversation, though he would have preferred flying at Mach 4 right
now.
        "I've been thinking," Natalie said slowly, softly.
        "About what?"
        "About you and me..."
        Nick was silent, not sure if this was a good idea.
        "I've been thinking how glad I am that you are here.  That I'm
not here alone in the dark.  I've just realized that if I have to die,
there's no one I'd rather be with at the end, than you."
        "Nat...,"
        "No, Nick, please, let me say this, let me get it out in one
piece.  I'm not going to say this very well, and I need to say it, so
just bear with me.  Please, Nick?"
        Nick exhaled sharply.  After a moment while Natalie waited
anxiously, he said, "All right."
        "Thanks, Nick.  You know, we've spent a lot of time together
over the last few years.  I've listened to you work through a lot of
pain and sorrow.  I probably have a pretty good idea how you feel
about your life, and especially your past.  But in all that time, I
don't think I've ever mentioned how I feel about you.  About you and
me.  And in all that time, I don't think you have either.  It's one
subject we've avoided, for a lot of reasons.  Valid reasons, too.  But
right now, I can't think of one single reason that's valid anymore.
Not one.
        "I *need* to say this, Nick.  I don't know if we are going to
get out of here alive.  I hope we are, but I don't know.  And I don't
want to let this go any longer.  I should have said it long ago, but
you know why I didn't?  I was afraid.  I am afraid.  I'm afraid of my
feelings.
        "I've spent years, decades actually, hiding my feelings.
First from Nana, and then from Mother, and now from you, and from
myself.  I don't want to do that any longer.  I can't, Nick.  I just
can't."
        Nick held her hand and slowly touched it to his lips, but said
nothing.
        Natalie closed her eyes against the dark and felt the
sensuous texture of his lips against her hand.  She inhaled on a
shudder of emotion.
        "I've been a coward all my life.  I hide behind the facade of
Dr. Lambert.  It's a pretty safe place to hide because then everything
is reduced to scientific facts.  But it's a facade.  Underneath,
there's still Natalie.  With all her impossible dreams.  And I dream
for the same things every other woman dreams about.  To be loved and
to love.  To be happy.
        "And you know what?  Until I met you, I had never been truly
happy."
        Nick bowed his head, feeling tears spring unbidden to his
eyes.  He swallowed at the piercing sorrow bursting from his chest at
the joy of her words.
        "I know you think you are evil, and unworthy.  But you're not,
Nick.  You are not.  You've made me happy.  You made me feel special,
and... and unique, and...  beautiful.  I never thought I was beautiful
until you did.  I loved all the little gifts you left for me--for
whatever reason--because they told me someone thought I was special.
And all the times you kissed me on the cheek or the forehead or
stopped by just to say hi.  It meant so much, because nobody else ever
has.
        "I know you are not perfect, Nick.  Believe me, I know."
Natalie laughed at the understatement.  He was at times, despite 800
years of experience, completely and infuriatingly, clueless.  "You
do have your moments, but you've more than made up for it, because
somehow you looked past the facade I put up, that nobody else has ever
seen through.  You looked right past it, and saw me, and liked me,
and...loved me."
        "Natalie," Nick choked out.
        Natalie reached up in the dark and pressed her fingers against
his lips.
        "Shhh.  It's okay."  Natalie felt tears in her own eyes, and
her voice was muted by the emotions welling up inside her.  Funny how
easy it was to say all these things when there was absolute darkness
surrounding them.  Somehow it made the distance between them diminish,
until there was absolutely no distance at all, and heart talked to
heart.
        "Nick...  When I met you, I was fascinated as a scientist, but
I told you the biggest bunch of hogwash I've ever spouted when I told
you that solving the puzzle would be reward enough for me.  Remember
that?  You asked me what was in it for me, and that's what I told
you."  Natalie laughed as she remembered.
        "I lied.  I was attracted to you from the moment I saw you
lying there on my table.  You were so handsome, so damned beautiful,
and I felt so sad you were dead.  And then, you got off that table,
and you weren't dead.  You were so incredibly alive.
        "I don't know when I fell in love with you, exactly.  I just
know that one day, you were more than a good friend, more than the
most fascinating puzzle I'd ever met, and certainly more than a
vampire that I was trying to help find his mortality.  You were my
love."
        Natalie felt Nick shudder against her at the words, and a tear
suddenly splashed on her hand.  If she could see, she knew it would be
red, dark ruby red.  And it didn't matter.
        "I love you, Nick.  For whatever it means, and for as long as
I live.  Whether you stay or you go.  Whether we say the words again
or not.  I just wanted you to know.  Because ever since Valentine's
Day, you've been so distant.  And I don't know why.  Something
happened then, didn't it?  Something important.
        "I know that our genetic differences make a relationship just
a little bit harder than most, but I don't think that's what made you
back away.  I would really appreciate it if you would be honest with
me.  Just for now.  Here in the dark.  If you want, I'll never mention
it again.  But for right now, I don't want to have any secrets, and I
want you to know I love you," Natalie said through a tear-laden voice.
"I.  Love.  You.  All of you, and I don't care what you've done in the
past, because who you are now is the sum of everything you've been.
And that man, Nick, is who I love.  He's honest, and caring, and
trying to be the best he can, no matter what.  Despite everything, and
that includes the vampire, and LaCroix, and anything else you want to
roll into it."
        Natalie moved restlessly against Nick, suddenly feeling scared
at all the honesty, scared, relieved, and hopeful.  "Thank you for
being here in my life, Nick."  She swallowed down her tears, "I don't
want to imagine what my life would have been without you.
        "When I was in the hospital, and I woke up.  You were there at
my side, and the look on your face, Nick, was the most wonderful gift
I've ever had.  I knew at that moment that you loved me.  You might
never say it, but I knew."  Natalie paused for a moment.
        "I just needed to tell you.  I'm only sorry that it took a
mad-man, a building blowing up around us, and," she paused as the
cement around them groaned again and dirt fell in a cascade over them,
"the fear that they might kill us in the rescue process, to get me to
say it.  I've never been very good at letting anyone in, or letting
anything out."
        Nick was trembling with emotions that raged through him.  He
had never imagined that God would send such a gift into his wasted,
stunted, evil life.  Never.
        "Oh, God, Natalie," Nick said thickly.  "I don't know what
I've ever done to deserve you."
        Natalie smiled in the dark, and Nick looking at her through
the luminous black, thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful.
        "Maybe, Nick, it wasn't you that was being rewarded," she
teased, "maybe you were a gift to me."
        Nick laughed through the lump in his throat.  "Maybe," he
agreed as he kissed her hand, and then each finger one by one.  Then
he turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand.
        Natalie inhaled sharply, as her insides turned to jello.
        "Nat, you're right, you know.  About me.  About Valentine's
Day.  Something did happen, and it still scares me.  I have kept my
distance.  I'm sorry."
        "So what did happen?" Natalie asked slowly.
        "LaCroix, happened," Nick said grimly.  "You don't remember,
because he reached into your mind, past all your defenses to find out
what he wanted to know.  When I got there, you were literally in a
dream state.  He's incredibly powerful."
        "I *met* LaCroix?  Ohmi... Wait, when you got there...got
where, Nick?  I think you left some stuff out."
        "Sorry, Nat. LaCroix deceived you into believing I asked you
to meet me for dinner at Azure.  You went and found him waiting
instead.  When I got there, he was about to take your life," Nick
grimaced as he remembered.
        "We fought.  Then we argued.  He accused me of being in love
with a mortal.  With you."  Nick nuzzled her hand as he spoke.  "He
was right.  I was in love, and he knew it, damn him.  So I bluffed.  I
told him I didn't love you, but that you were helping me, that you
loved me, and if it would help, then I would humor you."
        Natalie listened, astonished at his candor, and a little angry
and hurt by his revelations.  She couldn't help thinking--rather
ironically--they ought to spend more time in the dark, it certainly
was enlightening.
        "Anyway," Nick continued, "he called my bluff and ordered me
to bring you across, leaving me only two choices, do as he said, or
kill you.  If I didn't he would..."
        Nick fell silent, seemingly unwilling to continue.
        "Why would LaCroix force you to do that, Nick.  He doesn't do
things without a reason," Natalie asked finally.
        "I owed him for Fleur--my sister--I stopped him from bringing
her across.  He's never forgiven me for that, and he demanded
retribution.  If I ever truly loved a mortal..."
        "And I'm it.  Just great!" Natalie said grimly, angry.  "So
why am I still alive, Nick?"
        "Because I pulled you out of that damn chair and let the
vampire free.  I was about to take you, when LaCroix stopped me.  He
said that I couldn't possibly love you, or I'd never bring you across.
And he wouldn't trade Fleur for that.
        Nick was quiet, and Natalie scarcely dared to breath. "And
what would you have done, Nick?" she asked
        "I don't know," Nick said almost inaudibly. "I couldn't bear
to let you die, and I couldn't bear to have you be cursed like I am,
to live in the dark, in the shadows."  Nick laughed bitterly.  "And I
don't think LaCroix was fooled.  I think he knows I love you, and he
feels this is a better, more fitting punishment.  To let me suffer,
unable to be near you.  To bring me to the brink of destruction and
pull me back.  So I've kept my distance.  I've stayed away.  And I
took your memories of that night from you.  He left you in a state
where I could, so I did, because I didn't want you to suffer and to
live with that fear.
        "And I was wrong.  You deserve to know.
        "Why you should love a vampire, a creature of evil, someone
who has killed and reveled in it, I don't know.  But you do.  I love
you, and I would do anything to make you happy.  Anything.  Including
giving you up. I don't deserve you, but I'm glad for everything you
give me.  I can't give you a home or family.  I can't give you any of
the things you deserve, and it hurts.  I can't do anything about it."
He paused, "And you know I can't, not without endangering your life.
Forgive me, Nat," Nick whispered.  As he finished, his voice was
hoarse with emotions, and he began to weep.
        "Nick," Natalie said softly, "don't.  Shhh.  Don't you know?
You're my knight in shining armor, if you'll excuse the pun."
        Nick laughed through his tears at that, as Natalie wanted him
to.
        "Okay, maybe the armor needs a little polishing, but that's
all right.  I'm not looking for Dudley DoRight, you know."  She
reached up in the darkness, fumbling with her fingers along the
contour of his face, gently caressing his face.
        The I-Beam above them suddenly whined and slid a little.  Nick
hunched over Natalie protecting her.  They waited as debris rained
down, but the beam held.
        Natalie clutched convulsively at Nick in her fear, and then
said slowly.  "I wouldn't worry about what we can't have, Nick.  I'm
just grateful for what we've had.  Let's not worry about the future.
This is enough for now, believe me."
        Nick feeling drained from the emotional outburst, could only
agree.  He leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead.



Chapter 4

O woe is me! T'have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
  -- Hamlet, Act III, Scene I

        Somewhere water was dripping.  Slowly, steadily it fell with
monotonous regularity; a comforting sound in the darkness.  Natalie,
her head resting against Nick's thigh, stirred restlessly, searching
for a more comfortable position.  A rock grated beneath her, harshly
breaking the water's quiet rhythm.
        "Natalie," Nick said softly, "Are you okay?"  His hand stroked
her face gently, comfortingly.
        Natalie took strength from his soft touch, from his relative
warmth in comparison to the cold cement and broken rubble.  "Yes,"
she said, "I'm okay."  She felt his hand on her forehead, probing
gently.  "Ouch!" she cried involuntarily, as he touched the tender
bruise.
        "I'm sorry, Nat, I didn't mean to hurt you," Nick said
swiftly.
        "It's okay," Natalie sighed, as her hand tangled with his,
trying to feel the damage.  "I bet I have a huge bruise tomorrow, and
it'll be purple."
        "Actually," Nick said, a smile in is voice, "it already is."
        "Oh, great, just great," Natalie said tiredly.
        "Are you warm enough?" Nick asked, concerned.
        "Warm enough, for now," Natalie said, "but I can feel the
chill of the cement starting to creep into my bones, and on top of the
concussion, and the blood loss, it's not helping."
        Nick began to move around, disturbing Natalie as she lay with
her head in his lap.
        "What are you doing, Nick?" she asked, sending the question
into the bleak darkness.
        Stillness filled the void.  "Taking off my shirt," Nick said
after a hesitation, "to help keep you warm."
        "Nick, I've already got your jacket," Natalie protested, laying
a hand against him.  She gasped involuntarily as her hand connected
with his bare chest.
        "Nat?" Nick asked as she pulled back.
        "Sorry," Natalie mumbled, feeling heat in her cheeks from the
unexpected contact.  She was used to touching Nick as part of her
medical examinations, but this unexpected touch was somehow so
intimate, after their soul-baring conversation, that she blushed in the
dark.  The concussion must have affected her more than she realized.
Or the conversation...  She shivered as she suddenly realized how much
they had said, how much they had admitted to.
        Nick picked her up and pulled her closer and hugged her to
him.  "It's okay, Nat.  Just let me keep you warm."
        Natalie shifted in his embrace, suddenly tired and
frightened.  "How long?" she asked softly.
        Nick looked at his watch with ease through the inky blackness,
which Natalie couldn't penetrate.  "Forty-five minutes," he said.
"Fifteen more to go before I make contact again."
        Natalie shivered, but whether from cold or fear, she didn't
know.  Nick held her tightly for a moment, giving what comfort he
could, then finished taking off his shirt.  Gently he removed his coat
and wrapped the shirt around her, then he carefully pulled his jacket
back over her shoulders.  He pulled her farther off the floor and onto
his lap, and settled her securely against him.  Natalie curved herself
against him with natural simplicity and sighed.  She wished she could
savor the intimacy of the moment, the feel of his flesh beneath her,
but her head hurt so much, and it was getting worse.  Someone was
wielding a hammer insider her skull, pounding away vigorously, she was
sure.  It hurt so much.
        She was so tired and her eyes refused to stay open.  Despite
the precariousness of their situation, she felt safe in his arms.
Safe.  "Nick," she said, "If I fall asleep, wake me up in two hours."
        "Okay," Nick said, his lips against her hair.  He held her in
the darkness, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her warmth against
him.  Her breathing slowed, and Natalie slipped into an uneasy sleep.
        They were okay for now, *she* was okay for now, but if help
didn't arrive soon, Nick didn't know what he would do.  A tremor of
fear at the thought made him shiver as he sat there in the utter
darkness holding Natalie, his love, the most precious thing in his
life, waiting and hoping for help.
        Reflection on their plight didn't help, either.  There was
nothing he could do, and no way he could have prevented it.  No one
had seen it coming.  No one...
        Natalie moved restlessly in his arms, muttering to herself.
        "Nat?" he asked softly, but there was no answer.  She was
talking in her sleep.  He held her close and listened to the sound of
rescue creeping closer and hoped it would be soon.
        He looked at his watch and saw it was time to check in.
Holding Natalie carefully in one arm, he flipped his phone open and
powered up.  Trying not to disturb Natalie, he dialed Schanke.
        It only took half a ring before Schanke answered.
        "Nick?  That you?" Schanke asked, hopefully.
        "Yeah, it's me.  Tell me you've got good news."
        "Actually, I do.  It's coming along faster than they
originally figured, and the stairwell is more stable than they
thought.  Russell figures they'll break through in an hour, give or
take a bit," Schanke said cheerfully.  He was feeling cheerful,
because at last, he had something positive to say about this
situation.  They just might get them out of there.  Alive.  Something
he wouldn't have bet on two hours ago.
        "Thanks, Schanke," Nick said.  The exhaustion he felt, crept
into his voice, and Schanke heard it.
        "How you holding up, pard?"
        Nick took a deep breath, and let it out, realizing he was
starting to feel shaky.  "Okay, but it's getting harder.  Nat's
getting cold, and right now she's asleep.  But the sooner we get her
out of here, the better."
        "What about you?"
        Nick thought about what he could say for a brief second, and
settled for something noncommittal, "I've been better, Schanke.
There's a certain amount of stress you feel when a few tons of cement
start shifting overhead."  It was better than mentioning that he was a
few quarts low and struggling with the desire to snack on Natalie.
        "Is it because of the removal work?" Schanke asked, concerned.
        "Some of it," Nick admitted, "but some is just gravity.  This
beam above us has been slipping a bit.  My head space is shrinking,
Schanke, and it wasn't very big to begin with."
        Schanke looked over at the crane where they were carefully
pulling a large slab away, with narrowed eyes, trying to determine if
they should slow down or speed up.
        "Dammit, Nick!  Why didn't you call and tell me this earlier?"
Schanke demanded.  "Do you think we need to back off?  Is it in danger
of collapse?"
        Nick listened to Schanke's fears overflow, and smiled to
himself.  "Schank," he interrupted.
        "What?"
        "Don't slow down, faster is better.  This place isn't going to
last forever, and neither is Natalie.  She needs treatment, she needs
water, and she needs to be warm.  So just get here."
        Schanke was distracted momentarily as Officer Haymis handed
him a souvlaki.  He stared at it, and realized that he'd be going nuts
if he was without food and water.  He took a bite, and relished it.
        "Schanke?" Nick asked, hearing nothing on the phone but
something that sounded like...chewing.
        "Sorry, Nick.  I was just thinking.  I didn't think about you
not having water.  The rescue team is hurrying.  If you notice
anything start to give at all, though, you call, you hear?"
        "I hear.  Sorry about that, but things have been a little
intense," Nick admitted.
        "Intense?  How, intense?" Schanke asked, concerned.
        "Nothing to worry about, Schank.  It's just that Nat has been
scared, and the conversation got a little deep.  Okay?"
        Schanke thought a bit, and then a big smile crossed his face.
Maybe there was some good coming out of this.  Maybe those two had
started talking.  Maybe.
        "You didn't happen to propose or anything, did you?" Schanke
asked, hopefully.
        "No, Schank.  We're a little more worried about just staying
alive," Nick said dryly.
        "Oh, sorry."
        "Which reminds me, Schank.  My watch says it's eleven a.m.
That right?"
        "Yeah, it is," Schanke agreed checking his watch.
        "If you are going to break this cell open in the daylight, I
ought to remind you about my allergy.  You need to make sure that I
can get out of here without spending a lot of time in direct sunlight.
I don't need to implode on top of being blown-up, Schank," Nick said.
        He really didn't relish the thought of going up in smoke in
front of Schanke, the police department, and all the news cameras.  It
would really not be a very good idea.
        "Oh..., I forgot about that.  Let me see what I can work out,
Nick.  We were too busy just thinking about getting to you, to think
about your other problems."
        "Yeah, well, me, too.  It's been a hell of a night, hasn't it?"
Nick asked tiredly.  Natalie's blood was like a siren song, and her
pulse beating against his bare chest was beginning to wear his
resistance down.
        "It sure has.  And we still don't have a clue who did this or
why.  Commissioner Vetter has been all over me, twice.  But don't
worry, I'll think of something so you don't get toasted," Schanke said
comfortingly.
        "Thanks, Schank.  Hopefully I won't have to check in at
twelve."
        "Hold that thought," Schanke said, quietly.
        "Yeah."
        Nick closed his phone and powered it down.
        The rubble seemed to be shifting almost continuously now.
Tiny squeaks and grating sounds chipped away at his will.  He didn't
know if a vampire could survive being smashed flat, and he was sure he
didn't want to find out.
        Fear for Natalie ate at him.  Fear that she would be killed
before they could rescue them.  Either from collapse of their tiny
space, or from one very hungry, tired, almost-out-of-control vampire.
His hands shook slightly from the sheer will power he was exerting to
keep from slipping, letting his fangs drop, letting the beast free...
        "Mmmpfff pfsa nersatf..." Natalie murmured against his chest.
        Nick was momentarily diverted from his own problems and slowly
stroked her hair.
        "It's okay, Nat.  Help will be here soon.  Just another hour,
maybe, and you'll be safe.  Safe..."
        Natalie sighed against him, and nestled closer, burrowing her
face into his shoulder.
        "M'okay," she muttered.
        "What?," Nick asked, and when she didn't answer, realized she
was talking in her sleep.
        "mmft ring?"
        Nick smiled, and stroked her hair.
        "Where'd you get it, it's beautiful, Nick..."
        Nick frowned a little trying to follow her, wondering what she
was talking about.
        "Wha... hope?"
        "Shh..." Nick said, soothing her, as she stirred restlessly.
        "...and ...love?"
        Nick kissed her brow.
        "...can't tell you ... gave it to you, Nick..."
        He listened puzzled, now.
        "... your ring.  I gave it to you... stands... our love..."
        Nick felt a bolt of lightning sizzle through him, and the space
seemed to be lit with a light so intense, it was painful...
        "...our faith..."
        And then he ceased to hear or feel Natalie at all.

                                ********

        The images tumbled through his mind with an such intensity,
brilliance and immediacy that he could not cope with the emotional and
physical overload.  It had happened centuries ago, yet it was
happening now, and Nick experienced it all, as if it was happening
this very moment.  He remembered.  Everything.  It was a jumble of
memories, flickering through him faster than he could comprehend.

        Nick cried out as the sheer ecstasy and pain melded together
in his mind and heart, in every cell of his body.  It echoed through
their rocky prison...

        ...He stopped and watched her with an appreciative smile.  She
was smiling.  Her face shone from within, and she was so beautiful.
Her hair was a golden halo, backlit by the sun, swirling around her
face, dancing in the light breeze.  He had the oddest feeling that he
knew her.  His horse danced under him impatiently, and he absently
stroked his neck.  And then she looked at him...

        "Do I know you?"

        Natalie grinned.  "Oh yes, you just don't know it."

        They rode as one. Her hair streamed into his face, her
laughter slid back to surround him, encompass him.  Her perfume seemed
to seep into his every pore.  The sun bathed them in a golden, buttery
light as they forged through meadows topped with a sea of flowers and
then plunged into cool forest glades dappled with light, where moss
and lichen softened the sounds of their thundering passage.

        "We're just friends."

        "Not lovers...?"

        "No."

        "I will not leave you," he said quietly.  "If God can
grant such wishes as this, then we will not waste one moment of it.
Such gifts are not to be taken lightly."

        "Tell me about the Crusades, Nick."

        "Qui etes vous, Natalie Lambert, pour lire si bien dans mes
pensees?"

        Nicolas' hands cupped her face.  "You are so beautiful," he
whispered, and then his mouth found hers.  She melted into his
embrace.

        "Nick...," she whispered when he let her breathe.  "I love you
so much."

        His lips trailed a path across her cheek and down her neck.

        His blood pounded and thundered through his body.  "Je
t'aime...ma chere Natalie..."

        "You fill my dreams, Natalie,

        "Promise me you will remember?"

        "Natalie?" he cried.  But there was no answer.  The sun
streamed down on him and birds chirped loudly, disturbed by his
outcry.

        "I promise.  I will never forget you," Nicolas said
fervently...

                                ********

        "No...," Nick whispered, gasping in pain and agony, and yet
quivering in exquisite joy.  A double-edge sword, his emotions swung
from both ends of the pendulum, crashing together in the middle,
destroying his equilibrium.
        He remembered.  And lived it as if it was the first time, and
in a sense, it was, as the vampire's perfect memory recorded it--the
words, the feelings, and sensations.  For Nick felt it, lived it, knew
it, as a man, and he felt it, lived it, knew it as a vampire...
Something no vampire had ever experience before.  The memories had
crashed through him like a flood, now it played out vividly in his
heart and mind.
        The first touch of her hand in his, the sweetness and
innocence of it.  The absolute trust he felt in her, knowing her and
not knowing her, understanding and not understanding.
        "Natalie...," he gasped, "how?"

        "Because I've been brought from that time and place to this
one.  God can do anything, make even the impossible possible." Natalie
said.

        The words slid through his mind as they stood in the soft
buttery sunlight, and he cried at the sheer pleasure of it.  For the
first time in eight centuries he felt the sunlight on his face, felt
it's unthreatening warmth caress him, and the vampire recorded it in
perpetuity.  Tears slid down his face, and in the darkness of his
prison he turned his face up to the sun, eight centuries past.
        "Oh, God...," he cried out, "it's so beautiful!"
        The memories would not stop, but moved on relentlessly,
drawing him from one height, to the next.
        He felt the texture of her skin, so very soft, like a
butterfly's wing as he touched her face.  He felt her breath on his
hand, as she exhaled, watched her luminous eyes, drawing him in.  He
cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, and felt her tremulous
response, and could hear the pounding of his heart, thundering in his
ears.  Her arms closed around him and he was lost.  Each precious
touch was as painful as it was pleasurable.
        And Nick wept as he realized what had happened under the
stars, not so far from Paris, eight centuries ago, just before he made
his fatal choice.  The memories pushed on through his momentary
understanding, sending him to dizzying heights.

        His lips found hers again, and his blood pounded and thundered
through his body.  "Je t'aime...ma chere Natalie..."

        He'd made love with Natalie.  Something he'd fantasized, but
never dared dream of.  Natalie.  Somehow she'd found him.  And loved
him.  Words choked in his throat as each touch of her hands was
remembered and experienced again, the feel of her skin against his,
her lips on his.  All of it.  Passion.  Light.  Climatic joy and pain.
And still the memories came...

        Nicolas woke to a sense of deep happiness.  He lay there
listening to her heart beat beneath him, feeling her warmth next to
his.  Her skin was so smooth to his touch.  He couldn't believe she
was real.  He raised his head and looked at her face.  Her lashes were
so long.  Her hair was so silky.  He touched it gently.  He kissed her
softly...

        Nick didn't think he could bear any more.  His body seemed to
be dissolving.  Adrenaline washed through him in dizzying waves.
Sensation crashed over him time and time again...

        Nicolas reached out and pulled her close, cradling her in his
arms. His breath slid across her check, warming her.  "Don't go,
Natalie." he whispered.  "Stay...  please.  I can't lose you now that
I've just found you!"

        And then, at last, he understood, as she placed the ring on
his hand, on that night so long ago...

        She took his hand and slid the ring on his finger.  He brought
it close and examined it.  He looked at Natalie in amazement.  "It's
the symbol of de Brabant.  How did you know....?"

        And now he knew.

        And then as dawn crept into the sky, her touch had been a
torch igniting his passion, and he'd made love to her once again.  And
fallen asleep in her arms...to wake alone.  Pain at that loss raged
through him anew, trebled his despair, and Nick tumbled from the
heights of passion to the darkness of absolute loss and depression.

        He looked at the ring.  "I will remember, Natalie.  I will
never forget.  I will never take it off."

        And yet he had.  He had forgotten...no, it had been taken from
him, until Natalie had released him with her words, spoken
thoughtlessly in sleep, not for him to hear.  Never for him to know.
And with that thought, Nick plunged back into the cold harshness of
reality.  He found himself holding Natalie, his face wet with tears,
shaking with emotions that ran the gamut from the greatest joy to the
deepest despair, and he was unable to cope.  He hurt.  Pain vibrated
in every pore.  And he was overwhelmed.
        Gasping he struggled to find his sanity, and the vampire
finding the chink in his armor had grown to a gaping hole, roared to
life.
        His eyes glittered with rage and anger, desire and hunger, for
the feast was in his arms.  He would have it all.  He smelled the
scent of her blood, as she curled close in his arms, and was ensnared
in it.  He followed the scent and nuzzled her cheek as he sought her
neck and the living river of blood and memories waiting for him.  His
lips touched her neck and his tongue tasted her...
        Natalie murmured and stretched in her sleep at the touch.
"Nick?"
        Nick gasped and jerked back as he realized what was
happening.  A whimper of sound escaped him as he struggled for
control, wanting Natalie, and wanting Natalie's blood.  His muscles
trembled and shook with the battle raging in his soul, but at last,
Nick conquered the vampire.
        Fatigue and exhaustion pulled at Nick as he leaned back
against the rubble, heedless of the danger.  He gasped for air, like a
landed fish, his chest heaving, and at last, wearied beyond belief, he
found a small modicum of sanity and control.
        Time passed as he sat there, drained and exhausted, feeling
limp and empty.
        Pain oozed from him, and his mind shut down from the
overload.  He closed his eyes and wished he could die.
        But he didn't.
        More time passed, and rational thought returned.
        He stared down at Natalie, still sleeping in his arms.  He
would never understand why he hadn't dropped her, nor why she hadn't
woken.   Nor did he understand...
        "Natalie," Nick said, "why didn't you tell me?"  Pain rolled
through his question.
        There was no answer.
        Nick felt the vampire, once again, struggling for release.  He
was lightheaded from hunger and want.
        He needed to get out of here, he needed to get away from
Natalie.  Her presence was so intense, so overpowering, he didn't
think he could keep from taking her.
        Blood.  Natalie's blood. Ecstasy...
        He licked his lips.  His eyes bubbled with tiny golden
lights.
        Blood called, a sweet, seductive song.
        Whispering.
        Singing.
        "Help me," Nick cried, his eyes shimmering with want.
        Shrieking...
        Metal shrieked overhead, and Nick looked up, as light suddenly
filtered into their prison.
        God, it seemed, had heard him.
        "Nick?" Schanke yelled, "you in there?"
        On the other hand, make that Schanke, Nick thought
deliriously.
        "Yeah, we're in here," he yelled back.
        And collapsed against the wall.



Chapter 5

Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the
day would quake to look on.
  -- Hamlet, Act III, Scene III

        Schanke grinned broadly at Harry Russell, a rough grizzled man
with fading red hair, who had directed the rescue effort so
successfully--and let him be here when they broke through.  Harry
grinned back.  Any survivor at this point was good.
        "Okay, Nick, they'll be shoring this opening up and making it a
little wider and then we want to get you out of there."
        "Okay," Nick said faintly.
        Schanke frowned.  Nick definitely didn't sound good at all.
        "Everything okay?" he asked, nervously.
        "Yeah, just tired," Nick responded.
        Schanke gave a thumbs up to Harry and stepped back out of the
way.  Harry nodded at two burly men who stood by with support columns
designed to help shore up the wall.  They got to work.
        Schanke turned around and signaled they had made contact.
Cheers went up from the workers.  Schanke grinned, feeling better than
he ought to, given the circumstances.
        It was then, he remembered Nick's allergy.
        "Oops..." Schanke said, "I forgot the coat...  Gotta get the
coat."
        He grabbed Harry's arm. "I forgot to get Nick's coat.  I'll be
right back..."  Schanke took off running.

        "We have just been informed they have made contact with
survivors trapped in the rubble," Carol Todd, of the Channel 8 news
informed the camera from 30 meters away.  "Only moments ago, the
rescue crews broke into an area where there are two survivors, and we
expect that they will be bringing them out momentarily.
        "For those of you who have just joined us, the building
exploded over eight hours ago with fifteen members of the Toronto
Police Force inside.  We understand that the survivors are a medical
examiner, and a homicide detective.  There's no word yet on their
condition, but our sources confirm they are alive..."
        She stopped for a moment as the camera panned the scene.  "An
ambulance and a large van have now pulled very close to the scene.
Yes, it looks like they are about to pull them from the rubble of this
building.  That there are any survivors at all is a miracle..."
        Schanke shook his head as he ran past with a trenchcoat
retrieved from the Caddy.  It was a pity, he thought, that they
couldn't keep the press away while they got them out.  They had been
in the way all morning.
        He arrived and handed the coat to Russell, breathlessly.
        "Thanks," Russell said and moved forward to where there was a
small opening in the side of the stairwell.  He handed the coat to a
rescue worker covered in dust and wearing a helmet.  The worker slid
delicately into the hole and disappeared.

        Nick shook Natalie, a little concerned that she hadn't woken
up.  She remained still.  He shook her again, and groggily she
blinked.
        "Nat?... C'mon, Nat, wake up."
        "Wha...?" Nat asked.
        "The rescue party is here, it's just about time to go," Nick
said.
        Natalie suddenly realized she could see.  "Thank God," she
whispered.
        Nick could only agree.
        The hole grew bigger in the wall, and was filled by hard hats
and grunting bodies moving boulders and metal out of the way.
        "Okay," somebody said, "we think this is big enough.  Can you
crawl out?"
        "Yeah, I'm sending Natalie out," Nick said and helped Natalie
move forward into the tunnel of light.  Hands reached out and grasped
her.  Nick watched her disappear, and breathed a sigh of relief.  He
felt himself relax, knowing she was safe for now.  Safe from the
building, and safe from him.  Slowly he wiped his face, scrubbing the
dried tears from his face, hoping what might be left wouldn't be
noticed.
        A worker leaned in.  "Detective," he said, and pushed
something towards him.  Nick reached forward and picked up his trench
coat.  He smiled, and put it on.
        "What's the plan?" he asked as he crawled forwards ducking
under the I-beam.
        "We're going to pull you out and then run you to a van that's
5 meters away, sir.  It's as close as we could get it.  Oh, I forgot,
here's a hat."
        Nick took the hat from him, and put it on. "Guess I'm as ready
as I'll ever be," he muttered and grabbed the proffered hands.
        They pulled him out into the burning, glaring sun.  Blinded by
it's hostile brilliance, Nick gasped and flinched away.  Four hands
steadied him.
        "Just follow me, sir," a voice said and grabbing him, ran him
towards the van.
        Nick followed, and within moments was stumbling into the
benevolent dark.  The door slammed behind him, and more hands pulled
him down onto a bench.  Nick kept his eyes closed, knowing that they
were glowing.  He couldn't help it.  He had nothing left to control it
with.  Nothing.  He gritted his teeth and slammed down on his fully
extended fangs.
        "Nick?" someone was asking, as he buried his face in his
hands.
        "Nick, c'mon Nick, you okay?"
        It was Schanke.
        Nick sighed and shook his head.
        "He's got blood, all over him," someone said.
        "Where's your shirt, Nick?" Schanke asked, as someone undid
the trenchcoat.
        "Check his hand," a third voice said.
        Hands were all over him.  Nick shoved them away, violently.
        "Hey, Detective!" a paramedic protested, "we're just trying to
help here.  C'mon, let us do our job."
        Nick buried the vampire by sheer will-power alone, and looked
up.
        His face was gray with grit and fatigue.  "Sorry," he
said. "Sunlight makes me..."
        "Wanna puke?" Schanke suggested, trying to lighten the
atmosphere.
        "Yeah," Nick managed.
        "You want to let us look at your head and your hand?  You've
got a bandage around it," the female paramedic, whose nametag read
Anne, asked.
        Nick looked at her, then shrugged.  There was no graceful way
out, what was he going to say, no, I'm healed?  "Okay, but I think it's
Nat's blood mostly.  She had a head wound."
        They carefully unwrapped his hand, to find a faint bruise.
Nick blinked in surprise.  He began to wonder how serious his head
wound had been, if his hand hadn't completely healed.  He stared at
Anne's neck as she examined his hand, watching the pulse leaping just
beneath her skin and then looked away and swallowed hard.  He tried to
ignore the beating of her heart, and couldn't.
        Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump...
        "Nick," Schanke said, concerned, "NICK?"
        Nick looked at him, "what?"
        "They want to know if you have any other cuts anywhere?  You
sure you don't have a concussion under all that blood?" Schanke asked
worried.  Nick hadn't heard anything they were saying.  His face
looked blank and pale.  Ashen, as if something had scared him to death
in there.
        Nick stared back at him, his eyes looking...odd, almost like a
wild
animal's, to Schanke.
        "No, not that I know of," Nick said at last.
        The other paramedic was daubing the dried blood off his head
and searching for signs of a wound.
        "I don't see any head trauma here," he said at last.
        "Are you sure, Fred?" Anne asked.
        "Yeah, oh wait, looks like you got a bruise here, too, but
that's all."
        The van jerked into motion.  Nick looked up, alarmed.
        "Where are we going?"
        "The hospital.  Mercy Faith.  Where'd you think.  Gotta get
you checked out thoroughly," Schanke said, puzzled at Nick's attitude.
        "I'm FINE!" Nick said, teeth gritted.
        "Well, maybe," Anne said, "but we want to make sure.  A
building did come down on top of you."
        Nick swore under his breath.  All he needed was about a gallon
of blood and he'd be fine.  But obviously, he was going to have to do
some fancy footwork at the hospital.  He would have to avoid
an examination and get out of there in one piece before he could get
blood.
        Sirens sounded in front of them, and they sped down the
street.
        "Where's Nat?" Nick asked finally.
        "She's in the ambulance in front of us," Schanke said
quietly.
        Nick looked at Schanke, "She wasn't easy to wake up when you
got there.  I think her concussion's more severe than it looked.
Could you pass that along?" he asked.
        Schanke nodded, "Yeah, I'll pass that along."  He pulled out
his cell phone and called, as Nick lay back on the padded bench.  He
was so tired, hungry and confused he didn't think he could take much
more.
        Nick closed his eyes and let his mind go blank.  He
concentrated on the swaying of the van, as it rushed through the
streets behind the ambulance, listening to the whisper of the road,
and the ka-chunk of the wheels across cracks and seams.  It didn't
register at first when he felt Anne take his wrist to check his pulse,
but then he abruptly pulled his arm out of her grasp.
        "Let me be," he said quietly, feeling surly, and hating it.
She was only doing her job, but he couldn't allow her to check his
pulse.  His non-existent pulse.
        The van pulled to a halt with a jerk.  Nick sat up and took
his bearings.  They were in the covered emergency entrance.  No
immediate problems for him, Nick saw with relief.
        Schanke had a hand under his elbow, pulling him out and into
the emergency room, past the waiting room, into an examination room.
Nick was in no condition to argue, and let Schanke pull him along.  He
knew Schanke was talking to him, but it buzzed past.  It was if he
could no longer absorb information.  He needed blood.  He needed
it...now.
        Schanke pushed him down onto a table with stern command, "Stay
put, Nick.  Just lay there, and let someone check you out.  I'm going
to go check on Nat."  He disappeared out the door, and it snicked into
place behind him.  Nick stared at it, and licked his lips.  All around
him he could hear heart beats.  A symphony of them, and he felt the
vampire struggling to synchronize with one of them, any of them.  Nick
shut his eyes again, and tried to will it away--without success.  It
was sort of like Muzak, Nick thought deliriously, an annoying
background filled with a soft cacophony of beating hearts, so many he
couldn't distinguish any particular one.
        Nick let it go, and instead struggled to find the strength
inside himself to take care of anyone walking through the door with a
stethoscope.
        Almost immediately, a short, heavy-set man entered the room,
stethoscope hung around his neck.  His hair was ruffled and sticking
up on one side and his scrubs looked like they'd seen a lot of action.
        "How are you doing, Detective, I'm Doctor Luker," he said as
he looked at Nick, examining him closely.  "You look a little pale."
        "I'm always pale," Nick said softly from his prone position,
"but other than that, I'll live."
        "Well, I'd feel a lot happier if I could double-check that
diagnosis," the doctor said smiling.  "You've spent a very trying
eight hours underneath a few tons of rubble, and I'd like to make sure
nothing else is going to happen to you today."
        Nick gripped the sides of the table for support as he looked
up at the doctor.  Concentrating hard, using the last of his waning
energy, he caught the doctor's eye, and snagged his mind.  He could
hear Luker's heart beating, and felt his resolve slip.  Just one
little sip, something inside him begged, just one...
        Nick swallowed, struggling against the need.
        "Doctor...," he said, watching Luker's face go still and
empty, "I'm fine.  You've examined me, and found nothing beyond a few
bruises and scratches."
        "Bruises and scratches...," Luker said agreeably.
        "You will release me and suggest I go home and get plenty of
rest, drink lots of fluids, and stay away from work for a couple of
days."  Nick felt his voice going hoarse with the effort to enforce
his will on the doctor.  All his senses screamed at him to feed, and
they did it in syncopation with the doctor's heartbeat.
        Fa-feed, fa-feed, fa-feed...
        Nick closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.  He opened them
to find the doctor waiting for him, his will drained away.
        "You also think I'm incredibly lucky to be walking around
after what happened today," Nick finished, and released him.
        "So, how'm I doing, Doc?" Nick asked.
        The doctor stared at him, puzzled for a moment.  "Uh, you're
doing fine, Detective.  You escaped with just a few bruises and
scratches.  Beats me how, but you don't even have a concussion.
        "I'm going to release you, but you should go straight home and
get plenty of rest, oh, and drink lots of fluids--you're a little
dehydrated--not surprising, though."  The doctor frowned as he stared
at his empty chart, confused that he hadn't filled it in.  He looked
back at Nick, watching him patiently.  "Um, you should also take a
couple of days off and take some time to work through this experience.
Trauma like this can have a delayed stress reaction, so if you need to
talk to someone, I suggest you talk to the police psychologist, or if
he's not available, Dr. Briggs, here on staff, is really good.  And
you are one *lucky* man to be walking around.  Someone is really
looking after you!"
        "Thanks, Doc," Nick said meekly, and sitting up, swung himself
off the table.  He shook the doctor's hand just as Schanke poked his
head back through the door.
        "You're kidding," Schanke said, surprised, "you letting this
no-good lay-about go home?"
        The Doctor smiled at Schanke, "Yes, he's in surprisingly good
shape.  I have no reason to keep him here."
        Nick leaned against the table as the doctor spoke with
Schanke, and hoped nobody noticed he wasn't having a lot of success
standing up by himself.  The doctor was already looking puzzled over
his 'conclusions', and Nick didn't need any more complications at this
point.
        Nick knew he shouldn't feel this weak, but he did.  The
question was, was it from the injuries he'd sustained, or was it from
the emotional trauma he'd suffered when he had remembered his past, or
was it the combination?  He wished he knew.
        "Well, Knight, you lucky dog, what do you want to do now?"
Schanke asked as the doctor left the room.
        Nick looked up at Schanke, and gave a wan smile.  "Go home.
Get something to eat.  Go to bed.  In that order."
        "Oh," Schanke said, "here."  He handed Nick his jacket and
shirt.  "Natalie had 'em."
        "Thanks," Nick said and slowly dressed.  "How is she?"
        "Oh.  Um.  They're keeping her 'til tomorrow for observation.
You were right, apparently.  She has a nasty concussion and they want
to make sure she's going to be okay.  I guess she's got the mother of
all headaches right now.  But she's gonna be okay."
        Schanke watched Nick as he carefully, but slowly, tucked in
his shirt, and shook his head, "You sure you don't want some to get
some food now?  You look pretty weak, Nick."
        "Nah.  Thanks, I'll wait until I get my teeth into something
really solid."
        "Hey, a souvlaki will do that for you," Schanke protested.
         I don't think so, thanks, but no thanks.  I've got something
that'll be better at home."
        "Okay.  Whatever you say," Schanke said agreeably.  He was
just happy to have Nick back, and would have gladly robbed a bank for
him.  Lucky thing Nick didn't know that, or he just might ask him to.
        "Say," Schanke asked, brightening, "what d'ya say we pop in
and see her on the way out?"
        Nick stared at Schanke, appalled.  The last thing he wanted
right now was to see Natalie.  He was likely to go straight for her
carotid.  And yet... he wanted to see her more than anything.  He felt
very confused by his emotions.  Now, that was an understatement.  He
hadn't even had time to figure out what the hell had happened, let
alone deal with it, whatever *it* was.
        "Nick?" Schanke asked, waving a hand in front of his face.
"I'm not so sure they should be letting you outta here, partner.  You
seem a little far around the bend.  When I get sick and Myra starts
waving her fingers in my face to see if I'm alive, I know I'm not
going anywhere but bed."
        "I'm okay, Schank.  Really," Nick said.  "I'm just really
tired, and I'm not thinking very straight.  I've been blown-up, scared
to death, and spent hours waiting to see whether I was going to live
through the day or not, so cut me a little slack, here, okay?
        Schanke laughed.  "Now that's starting to sound like the Nick
I know.  C'mon, let's go check on Natalie."
        Grabbing Nick by the arm, he headed down the hall.  Nick was
glad for Schanke's support, and relieved he hadn't noticed how much
Nick needed it.
        Dr. Luker, standing by the nurses station, watched them go,
haunted by a nagging feeling that he'd missed something--something
important.  Finally he shook his head, and headed for his next
patient.
        Natalie, according to one of the ER nurses, had just been
transferred upstairs to a private room on the third floor.  Nick was
relieved for a little more time.  Schanke on the other hand...
        "Man-oh-man," he moaned, "we just missed her.  We coulda
helped take her up there.  You could have pushed, I could have pulled,
made jokes, helped her get comfy, but nooooo, we missed it."
        "Schanke." Nick said as they stepped into the elevator
interrupting what was turning into a monologue.
        "Yeah?"
        "Stuff a sock in it."
        Schanke threw Nick a funny look.  "You wound me, Nick, you
wound me."
        Nick didn't reply but leaned back against the wall as the
elevator smoothly and quietly lifted them to the third floor.
        Schanke watched him, suddenly concerned.  He'd seen Nick
paler, he was sure, but he couldn't remember when.  Not to mention,
he wasn't fielding Schanke's one-liners with his usual ease.  In fact,
he wasn't fielding them at all.  He pursed his lips thoughtfully.
        "Nick," Schanke asked, "are you sure we shouldn't be checking
you into the hospital?  You don't look too good."
        Nick opened his eyes and found Schanke a bit too close for
comfort, giving him the once-over.  He could hear his heart beating,
and he couldn't stop from staring at Schanke's neck where his pulse
beat above his loosened collar and skewed tie.  Nick tore his gaze
away from the pulse to look Schanke in the eyes.
        "Yeah, I'm sure.  Thanks for asking, though.  I'm just really
tired, and if anything, I'm starting to feel...,"  Nick stopped and
thought about it.  "Actually, I don't know how I feel, I guess.
Empty, maybe."
        He looked at Schanke seriously, "Maybe its all finally sinking
in, I don't know."
        "You sure?" Schanke asked again.
        Nick shrugged.  "I've been better, but I'll survive.  I don't
need a hospital.  I just need about twelve hours of sleep, for
starters."
        The doors opened admitting them to the third floor.
        Schanke looked at Nick through narrowed eyes.  "If you say so,
buddy, but I'm thinking maybe I should park myself on the couch and
keep an eye on you."
        Nick cringed at the thought of Schanke in the loft, with his
heart beating louder than a timpani drum.  Schanke'd be a target.  He
might as well get a big sign that said 'free blood right here'
and hang it around his neck.  He was far too enticing to Nick in this
state.  He needed to get control of himself.  No, Schank at the loft
was not a good idea.
        "Thanks, but no thanks," Nick said as they headed for the
nurses station.
        "Nick...?" Schanke said, a little frustrated.  "I just don't
want you to have some kind of relapse or...,"
        Nick stopped and stared at him.
        "...something," Schanke finished.
        "I won't."  Nick suddenly realized that arguing with Schanke
was like getting a second wind, he felt better already.  Maybe it was
emotional overload.  He hoped that was all it was.
        They finished the short trip to the Nurses station in silence.
        "May I help you?" the nurse asked.
        "Yeah," Schanke said, leaning over and trying to read her
up-side-down room chart.  "We're looking for Natalie Lambert, she was
just brought up."
        The nurse raised an eyebrow and picked up the chart so Schanke
could no longer see it.  He shrugged and looked at Nick.
        "She's in room 314, just down the first hall on the right,"
the nurse said primly, glaring at Schanke.  She hated snoops.
        "Thanks," Nick said and left Schanke to play catch-up.  Might
as well get this over, he though to himself, and mentally prepared
himself.  It wasn't enough.
        Natalie was just putting down her water glass when Nick
entered the room.
        Her scent was seductive, an assault on all his senses...
        He wanted her blood.  Wanted it.  Needed it.  Nick stopped as
if he'd hit a solid wall.  He couldn't take another step.  If he did,
he would drain her dry without hesitation.  Her heartbeat was so loud,
he was drowning in the sound.  Drowning in the need for Natalie.
        Natalie looked up and saw him.  She smiled softly.
        Nick swallowed, and stepped back a bit as Schanke shoved past
into the room.
        "Hi, Natalie, how're you feeling?" Schanke asked cheerfully.
        Nick put his hand up against the wall to steady himself.
        "Hi, Schanke," Natalie said with a small smile, "Hi, Nick, I
was wondering what they'd done with you.  Are you okay?"
        "Oh, wonder-boy, is fine, Natalie," Schanke said.  "The doctor
practically threw him out.  Said he was wasting his time.  Nick hardly
had a scratch on him.  He let you take the brunt of it."
        Natalie laughed, and then put a hand to her head.  "Don't make
me laugh," she said.  "It hurts."
        Schanke was instantly contrite.  "I'm sorry, Natalie.  Didn't
mean to make it worse."
        "No, that's okay.  It's good to laugh actually.  I guess it
means I'm going to live.  I was kind of worried about that for a
while," Natalie said.
        "So I heard.  Nicky-boy, was telling me you guys had an
*intense* talk down there, didn't ya, Nick?"  Schanke turned and asked
Nick.
        "Oh?" Nat asked, looking at him.
        "Yeah," Nick managed.
        Natalie ran a practiced eye over Nick, and realized that
something was wrong with him.  Really wrong.  Nick looked like he had
a bad case of indigestion or ... something.
        "Nick, are you okay?" Natalie asked, puzzled at the mixed
signals he was sending.  "You don't look very good.  I thought I was
the one with the concussion."
        "You are," Nick said finally.  "I'm the one who stayed awake
and held the building up.  I just need to get something to...eat, and
about twelve hours sleep to...rebuild my strength."
        Natalie swallowed, realizing what Nick was implying.  He was
hungry.  Really hungry.  He was looking at her like she was absolutely
delectable.  She suddenly felt very much like main course and dessert,
all rolled into one.  She was reminded all over again, that Nick was
not exactly 'safe'.  Nick inched closer to the door.  It was obvious
he wasn't going to move one step nearer, he didn't *dare* move closer.
        "Schanke, I think you ought to take Nick home right now.  He
needs rest," Natalie said abruptly, as she watched Nick.  And even as
she spoke, intuition told her that hunger wasn't his only problem, but
now wasn't the time to ask--not with Schanke standing there watching
their every move.
        "It's okay, Nat.  I'm fine," Nick said.
        "Yeah, right," Schanke said rolling his eyes.  "He's been
saying that ever since he came out of that dungeon you two were stuck
in.  And he ain't all right."
        "Well, you know Nick," Natalie said dryly.  "He'd drop over
dead before he'd admit to being sick."
        Nick pressed his hand against the wall, leaving a slight
indention, and struggled to find a light tone.  "Thanks a lot.  I just
wanted to stop by and see you were okay before I went home."
        "I'm okay.  I've just got a concussion, which is no surprise
to anybody.  By the way, they loved your impromptu Band-Aid.  I'll
have you know that was my favorite slip!" Natalie said indignantly,
smiling, hoping to lighten the atmosphere and help Nick out.
        "What?" Schanke asked, turning his head practically around to
stare at Nat.  "What slip?"
        "Oh, Nick ripped my slip in two and used it to bandage my
gusher of a head wound," Natalie said.  "I didn't even know until I
got here.  I'm probably on tape on every single News broadcast
wearing my black satin slip as a head ornament."
        "No way!" Schanke hooted.  "Nick, you scum-bag, why didn't you
use your shirt?"
        "He did," Natalie said, "I was wearing both it and his
jacket."
        "Oh, yeah, that's right..."
        The conversation faded out for Nick.  He backed up another
step as Natalie's heart beat began to fill every empty space in his
head.
        Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump...
        He could barely hear them.  He wanted her so badly.  He could
smell her blood, it was the sweetest perfume, so full of promise.
Full of love.  Full of life...
        "Nick?" Schanke asked putting his face in Nick's.  "Nick, what
is wrong with you?"
        "Schanke, it's okay," Natalie said from her bed.  "Just get
him home.  He needs to get home, *now*."
        Schanke looked at her.  "I don't get you two.  I think he
needs to be stuck in a bed and watched.  And you want to send him
home?"
        Natalie twisted her hands together and said carefully.  "Nick
will be better off at home.  He can shut out the sun, take his
medication, and get some sleep.  I'm sure that's all he needs.
Sleep."  Natalie looked at Schanke.  "And food," she added.
        Nick stared at her over Schanke's shoulder.  He licked his
lips.
        "Food," he said softly, the spell momentarily broken.  "I
shouldn't have come, Nat.  I should just have gone home.  C'mon,
Schanke, get me home.  I'll talk to you later."
        Schanke shook his head, and grabbed Nick by the elbow.  "C'mon,
wonder-boy, let's go.  I hope you're right about this, Natalie," he
threw over his shoulder as he led Nick out.
        Natalie stared after them, scared.  She'd never seen Nick so
close to losing control.  He'd been hungry and desperate.  She'd seen
him drunk and angry, and out-of-control in the back room of the Raven,
but she'd never seen him look like that.  Needy.  Desperate.  Ready to
feed and damn the consequences.  She hoped Schanke would leave Nick
alone before he lost it entirely and made Schanke into an involuntary
donor.
        "What happened, Nick?" she asked.  It had to be more than a
building coming down on them.  He'd been fine the last time they'd
talked.  Right before she fell asleep.  So what else had happened?
        Her head hurt trying to think about it.  Too much so, to try
to figure it out, so Natalie lay back, flipped the light off, and
decided she'd worry about it tomorrow.  After all, she reasoned,
neither she or Nick was going anywhere soon.

        Schanke had arranged for the van to wait, in case Nick was
actually released, and he helped Nick lie down in the back again
before heading for the front.  He nodded to the driver and they pulled
out.
        Nick lay there, aware of Schanke and the driver talking, but
not able to comprehend their words.  He could not focus.  Their hearts
drowned out the conversation.  It was all he could hear.  Tha-thump,
fa-feed, tha-thump, fa-feed, tha-thump, fa-feed.  He closed his eyes
and clamped down on his fangs as they extended once again.  He
couldn't remember the last time he'd had this little control.
        What had happened to him?  Something had happened when he'd
remembered.  The scene played out, yet again, in his mind.  Natalie.
Standing in the sunlight, riding, eating together, kissing her,
holding her, loving her...
        What the hell had happened?  What was he going to do?
        "Nick," Schanke said, softly poking him in the shoulder.  "You
awake?"
        Nick opened his eyes.
        Schanke thought they looked...feral.  He shook his head and
looked again, and saw Nick looking at him through tired blue eyes.
        "Yeah, I'm awake."
        "We're here."
        "Thanks, Schanke," Nick said rising.
        "No problemo, buddy, let me give you a hand."
        Nick took the proffered help, and struggled to ignore the
pulse throbbing in Schanke's hand.  Slowly they headed for the loft.
Schanke stayed with him while he punched in the alarm-code; rode with
him up the freight elevator, and made meaningless conversation, that
Nick heard but didn't understand.  At last, Schanke left, when Nick
promised to eat and go straight to bed.
        The elevator door slid closed behind him, and the groaning
elevator faded away as it descended.
        Nick stared at the door.
        He listened to the crunching gravel as Schanke walked to the
van.
        The van kicked into gear and drove away.
        Nick stood there.  Motionless.  Unable to function.
        Then...
        His eyes turned red.
        His fangs dropped, and with a growl he flew across the room.
        Nick ripped the refrigerator door open and grabbing the first
bottle, yanked the cork out, sending it flying across the room and
drank without breath, the entire bottle.  It fell to the floor,
discarded.
        A second followed.
        A third.
        A fourth.
        A fifth.
        And still he didn't slow down.  He felt empty, hollow, needy
as a heroin addict.  His body craved something he couldn't seem to
find.  Natalie...
        A sixth.
        And the seventh.
        All the bottles of blood were gone.  The cow's blood, that is.
The bottles lay abandoned on the floor around him, like so much trash.
        He ripped open the crisper and pulled out his emergency stash
of blood pouches.  Human blood.
        Nick sank to his knees as he guzzled it down, crying at the
ecstasy he found in stale human blood, so much better than steer.
Blood dripped down his chin.  Anything was better than steer.  Lost in
a frenzy of blood lust, he wondered why he hadn't started with
Schanke, and the driver.
        "Why the hell am I drinking cow when I could've had it all.
It was right here...he was right here."
        Nick shook his head as his words seeped into his brain.  He
knew subliminally that something wasn't right with that scenario.  He
just couldn't figure out what it was...
        Blood.  He needed more blood...
        Nick opened the freezer and got the absolutely-last-stand
emergency pouches out and one by one heated them in the microwave.
Warm blood.  He closed his eyes and enjoyed every swallow.  Shuddering
in ecstasy at the forbidden pleasure of warm blood...
        Only when every last drop was gone, did he stop.  Reluctantly.
He licked the bags, seeking every tiny bit of it.  But it was gone,
all of it.  There was no more blood.  Like an addict on a binge, he'd
gone over the edge.  He stared at the windows in a red rage, that the
sun prevented him from finding more.
        "'Now could I drink hot blood, and do such bitter business as
the day would quake to look on'," Nick quoted softly.  If only it was
night.  If only.  He could go out and hunt. He laughed softly.  Yes,
hunt.  It would feel so good...
        Drunk on blood, high on the lust and hunger, Nick lay on the
floor by the fridge and stared at the ceiling.
        The vampire thrummed like a single low note at the base of his
head, wanting more, demanding more, unappeased.
        He lay there, sated yet still hungry, a frustrated predator,
balked of its chosen prey.  Natalie.  He needed Natalie.  Natalie's
blood.
        Nick choked on the thought and rolled to his stomach,
struggling to control the need.  He lay there a long time, and slowly
the hunger trailed away and coherent thought crawled back into his
head.
        With a sob, he struggled to his feet and then rose slowly,
shakily in the air and flew to the second floor landing.  He stumbled
into his room and fell onto the bed, and let sleep overtake him,
giving him blessed respite from the need.



Chapter 6

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
  -- Hamlet, Act IV, Scene V

        Nick woke much the same way a blind snaps open when pulled on
too sharply.  His eyes snapped open and the room spun around.  His
eyeballs hurt.  He felt like he had whiplash.
        He lay sprawled on his bed, weary and empty.  He couldn't
think of a single reason to get up.  Something had happened yesterday,
hadn't it?  He couldn't quite seem to get a handle on it.  He felt
slightly hung over.
        Slowly memory oozed back into his conscious mind.  The
investigation, the set-up, the explosion.  Trapped.  The ring.
Remembering.  Natalie.
        Sunlight...
        Natalie. NatalieNatalieNatalie...
        "Natalie," Nick said softly, staring up at the ceiling.  His
hands slowly curled into fists as he let the memory flow.  The
immediacy he'd felt yesterday was gone, but the intensity remained.
Every cell in his body seemed to explode with sensation.  Tears slowly
filled his eyes.
        Sorrow seeped through him.  Sorrow for what had been and
couldn't be anymore.  Just when the depths of despair overflowed him,
sunlight poured down on him from somewhere deep in his heart and mind.
Warm, soft, radiant, beautiful.  The patterns of shadow and light
through the trees fascinated him, buoyed him up, made him smile.  More
tears flowed, filled with the sun's beauty and peace, sliding down the
sides of his face, seeking ground.
        Natalie's hand touched his as they walked under a brilliant
sunset filled with such incredible color.  All the colors of his
heart.  Tears of joy joined those of pain, sorrow, and peace soaking
his pillow.
        With a sob Nick turned over and buried his face in his now wet
pillow.  He was precariously balanced on a pinnacle, struggling to
keep from falling.  Any direction he might fall had consequences,
dangerous consequences.  He had to keep from falling.
        He watched Natalie dip her toes in the glassy lake.  Ripples
flowed and turned the glass into rings within rings.
        Moonlight flowed down over them.  Her body glowed silver under
his hands.  She turned her face up to him, held out the ring...
        "It is the lark..." he heard her cry.
        "Qu'il en soit ainsi!" Nick's own voice echoed in his head.
        Slowly Nick took it in.  Absorbed it.  Lived it.  Felt it.
His body burned with the heat of passion, and warmed with the sun's
gentle touch.  If he turned over and looked, Natalie would be there
beside him, still flushed with passion.  It felt that close, that
real.
        "Why didn't you tell me, Nat?" he asked the silence of his
room.  How, though, would you tell someone this?  Oh, by the way, I
traveled through time to find you...to love you...  A tiny smile
barely touched his lips at that thought.  If it had been the other way
around, would he have told Natalie?
        "No...," Nick said quietly.  "I wouldn't want her to deal with
that pain.  Knowing that it could never be again."  And he had his
answer.  He understood.  Better to keep that knowledge hidden.
        It didn't help, though.  It was ironic, Nick thought, that
Natalie should make that decision and keep this from him.  He was the
one who usually kept things from her; made unilateral decisions.  He
found it hurt to be on the receiving end.  Finding out after the fact
was painful.  And suddenly, sharply, Nick understood how she felt when
he did this to her.
        "I'm sorry, Natalie," Nick said, and meant it.
        He lay there a while longer, reliving his feelings.  Reliving
the events with his perfect memory.  Just once more he closed his
eyes, and made love...
        Felt her lips on his.
        Her hands touching him.
        Becoming one.
        The explosion of feeling.
        And wept with joy.
        Reality finally reclaimed him.  The past was the past, no
matter how eidetic a memory one has.  Nick dragged himself up off his
bed and into the shower.  He let the hot water beat on him for a long
time.  Sometime soon, he knew, he'd have to behave in a rational
manner.  Sooner would probably be better.  It was only when he was
putting on his watch that Nick realized he'd slept for more than
twenty-four hours.  He'd been unconscious for a whole day.  He had a
feeling that reality was going to be here sooner than he wanted.
         Nick descended the stairs the time-honored way, and surveyed
the damage.  He vaguely remembered taking the flying short cut the
previous day.  Probably a good thing--he doubted he could have
walked--he'd been too drunk on blood and lust.  He checked the fridge,
but it was devoid of anything remotely offering sustenance.  Sighing,
Nick dialed the Raven, and placed an order to hold him until he could
reach his regular supplier.
        Then he began cleaning up from the day's binge.
        Just as he tossed the last of the bottles in the garbage, he
felt a whisper of air on his neck.  A familiar presence sizzled
along the link.
        Nick turned to find LaCroix standing calmly in the middle of
the loft, with two bottles in each hand.
        Nick raised an eyebrow.
        LaCroix walked across the room and placed them gently on the
dining table.
        "I was at the Raven when you called," LaCroix said, "and I
thought I would deliver these personally.  I was rather concerned,
Nicholas, at the emotional outburst coming from you yesterday."
        He turned and looked at Nick, surveying him with a clinical
interest.  "You look rather pale.  It would seem something has sent
you into a...decline?"
        Nick walked past LaCroix and sat down at the dining table.
Slowly he reached for a bottle.
        "It is human, you know, a rather charming vintage.  Janette
doesn't stock that swill you seem to prefer."
        "I know," Nick said shortly.  He picked it up, and opened it.
        LaCroix watched with a voyeur's enjoyment as Nick sniffed the
bouquet, and then drank deeply, savoring the taste.
        LaCroix sat down across from Nick and crossed his leg.  He let
his hand rest gently on his thigh.  He watched Nick finish the bottle
in silence.
        "Yesterday's outburst.  I assume something catastrophic caused
it?"
        Nick put the empty bottle carefully on the table and stared
at it for a long moment before meeting LaCroix' eye.
        "I spent eight hours under an unstable I-Beam when the
building I was in was detonated."
        "I heard," LaCroix said calmly.  "I also felt your emotions.
You do tend to broadcast everything, you know.  So entertaining at
times.  You did give me a qualm there, for a while.  Severe wound?
Unconscious, perhaps?  But you can't keep a good vampire down, can
you?  You were fine, if a little hungry, and dinner right there in
front of you... It's a pity you didn't take advantage of such a
delectable feast...,"
        "LaCroix!" Nick said angrily.
        LaCroix smiled gently.  "It is nice to know our species can
survive such unexpected events.  But that wasn't what sent you, how do
I say this delicately, over the edge?  Was it, Nicholas?"
        Nick leaned back in his chair and snorted.  "If you can read me
as well as you imply, you'd know what happened."
        LaCroix shrugged his shoulders and infinitesimal millimeter.
"Not even I could read such a barrage of senseless images,
Nicholas..."
        "But if somebody could, it would be you."  Nick said dryly.
He folded his arms, enjoying the game for once.  The blood, so
thoughtfully provided by LaCroix, coursed through him, invigorating
him, renewing him, and giving him strength to match wits with LaCroix.
        LaCroix raised an eyebrow slightly, as a smile curved his
lips.
        Nick smiled back, genially.
        "You're not going to tell me."
        "No, I'm not going to tell you."
        "I will find out, you know," LaCroix said, a slight menace
garnishing his words.
        "Perhaps," Nick agreed.  "Perhaps not."
        LaCroix raised an eyebrow.  "You are certainly in a civilized
mood tonight, Nicholas.  Usually you are..." he left Nick to fill in
the blanks.
        Nick glanced briefly at him.  "Maybe I'm making up for some
uncivilized behavior."
        "Yes.  Well, I'll leave you to enjoy your dinner.  I've a
monologue to deliver," LaCroix said, standing.  He scrutinized Nick
carefully.  Nicholas was giving off very ambivalent signals.  He would
find out what happened; it would just take a little longer than he
hoped.  Nicholas could be so very obstinate.
        "Thanks for the delivery," Nick said, "tell Janette I
appreciate it."
        "I'm not your messenger service Nicholas, tell her yourself,"
LaCroix said thinly, and left in a rush of air.
        Nick stared at the empty space he left behind and smiled.  And
then his smile faded and he frowned in concern.  If LaCroix should
find out what had happened, Natalie would be in grave danger.  That
LaCroix hadn't learned it through their connection was unusual, and
his interest, unfortunately, was piqued.
        Perhaps the intensity of the experience had kept LaCroix from
reading him.  Nick had overloaded, and the information LaCroix could
glean from the link had been senseless.  However it had happened, it
had, and Nick was grateful for that small crumb.  But now that he was
returning to normal, Nick was uncertain how long he could keep LaCroix
in the dark.  Fear shot through him at the thought, and his eyes began
to drift to gold.  Nick closed his eyes and clamped down on the rising
hunger.
        The vampire was very close to the surface.  Still.  Willing it
down, Nick opened his eyes.  He stared at the three bottles remaining
in front of him and after a moment reached out and opened one.  The
hunger he felt was incredibly powerful.  One thing he knew for sure,
he couldn't be near Natalie.  Not right now.  He just couldn't.  Not
if he wanted her to live.  Nor was he sure about other mortals, his
control had fractured completely.  Schanke had damned near been
dinner.  Nick didn't know if he wanted to test his fragile hold,
certainly not on Schanke, or the precinct.
        The phone rang, breaking into his thoughts.  Nick let the
answering machine pick up.  He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.
        "Nick?" Schanke said.  "I know you're there.  Pick up."
        Reluctantly Nick walked over and picked up the phone.
        "Schanke," he said.
        "How ya feeling?" Schanke asked.
        "Better," Nick admitted.
        "A lot better, or a little better?" Schanke persisted.
        "Why?"
        "Because the news people want an interview, Cohen wants to
know your status and when you'll be coming back, and Commissioner
Vetter wants a report yesterday.  Not to mention there's a task force
forming, and they want to know what you know.  That's why."
        "Oh."
        "That's all you got to say?  Oh?  C'mon, Nick.  Help me out
here."
        Nick took a breath.  "I'm somewhere between a lot and a
little, Schanke.  I got a good night's sleep, but I'm not coming in
tonight, and maybe not tomorrow.  I don't know.  Book me off and if I
show, then it'll be a bonus."
        "You got it, but people have got questions, and only you've
got the answers.  I'm surprised you haven't had calls from the
reporters from hell yet.  Man, I got home and they were camped on my
doorstep.  Myra had a fit because they got her on tape in those big
pink curlers she wears.  It was awful.  I was sooo glad to come to
work!"
        Nick looked down at his answering machine and saw the light
was blinking.
        "Maybe I do, I haven't listened to my messages yet.  Do I have
to give an interview?"
        "Probably.  Cohen will want you to at least do some
maintenance PR.  But that's not the big problem.  Vetter is on the
warpath and wants us to solve this thing pronto.  You are Numero Uno
on the task force, since you figured it out.  Not only that, but
you and Nat were the only survivors, Nick.  They're still pulling
bodies out of the rubble.  We're still missing five people.  So, the
sooner you get back, the better."
        "Yeah, well, it still isn't going to be tonight.  Tell Cohen
I'll call her tomorrow night, okay?"
        "Okay.  But don't let 'em talk you into doing anything you're
not ready to."
        "I won't.  Thanks, Schank," Nick said and hung up.
        He felt pressure building on the inside, starting to bubble
deep inside him.  People wanted him to be there, performing, and Nick
didn't know if he could.  Just the thought of being around people made
him uneasy.  He would have to go out for a test-run somewhere first,
and see what his reaction was.
        His returned memories had somehow sparked an adverse reaction,
and Nick didn't know how far it had set him back.
        He finished the bottle and then listened to his messages.
        Channel 8 wanted an interview.
        Channel 6 wanted an interview, and they would pay for an
exclusive.
        Natalie called, and wanted to know if he was okay.
        Cohen called and told him to take as much time as he needed,
but to call her. She was glad he was alive.
        The Toronto Gazette wanted an interview.
        Natalie called again.  She was going home.  Did he want to
come and visit her?
        Nick shuddered.
        And a local photographer had called, informing him he'd won a
free 8x10.
        Great.
        His thoughts returned to Natalie.  He didn't even know if he
could talk to her on the phone.  It hurt too much.  The wanting and
needing.  Natalie.  He didn't know what to do...
        He picked up the open bottle and slowly drank it, letting the
human blood warm his cold flesh and empty heart.  He walked to the
window and stared into the night, morose and depressed.
        A flash of light caught his eye, and he realized that a
reporter was staking out his place.  Slowly Nick drew back into the
shadows.
        "Damn," he said softly, and then an idea formed in his mind.
Well, he needed to find out if he had control, didn't he?  A solitary
reporter was as good a place to start as any, wasn't it?  A chilly
smile crossed his lips at the thought.

        Josh Broder whistled to himself as he leaned against the
crusty brick wall.  Once again, he wondered why anybody would want to
live here.  It was isolated, remote, and seemed to hint at someone who
was ultimately distanced from his fellow-men.  Strange place, he
thought for a cop to live.  Specially one like Knight.  He'd spent the
day researching Detective Nick Knight.  He had commendations left and
right, and always seemed to save the day.  That took a lot of caring,
didn't it?  And yet he lived in a warehouse district, without friends
or neighbors.
        "Why?" Josh asked himself.
        "Why what?" an interested voice asked from his side.  Josh
flinched and banged his head against the wall.  He jumped away and
confronted the danger with his heart in his throat and adrenaline
rushing through his system double-time.
        "Hell!" Josh swore, "who the hell are you?" rubbing his
pounding head.
        A six-foot tall man with dark blonde hair regarded him from
the shadows.
        "I might ask you the same question," came the reply in an
amused voice.  "Only I have more right.  This is my property you are
on."
        Josh stared, startled, trying to see through the dark.  "Oh,
...uh, are you Knight?"
        "Yeah, I am, who are you?" Nick replied moving into the
light.  The look in his eyes made Josh step back involuntarily.  They
reminded him of a wild animal for a moment.  And then he was looking
into intense blue eyes.  He wondered if he'd imagined it.
        "Uh, Josh Broder, I'm with the Toronto Star.  I was hoping to
get an exclusive interview.  You know, about the explosion," Josh said
nervously.
        "You've got an interesting way of going about it," Nick said
curtly.  "Why didn't you just phone?"
        Josh gulped.  "Because I figured everybody else already had.
I thought if I was right here on the spot, maybe you'd give me a
break.  And, ah...hell.  I'm trying to get my first byline," he
admitted under the knowing stare Nick was giving him.
        "Well, Mr. Broder, I suggest you go home and try the
time-honored way.  Call and ask.  I'm not giving any interviews right
now.  But I suspect that I will be talking to the press eventually."
        "What was it like?" Josh asked, hoping to talk him into it
anyway.
        Nick looked at him.  "Go home."
        Josh's shoulders fell.  "Won't you even give me a statement?"
        "Nice try.  But not tonight," Nick said and turned away,
walking towards the entrance.
        "Well, then," Josh called after him, "why don't you tell me
why you live out here all by yourself?"
        Nick's hesitated briefly, and then moved on.  Over his
shoulder he gave one last piece of advice, "Go home before I call and
report you for trespassing."
        He disappeared into the security entrance and Josh stood there
alone, frustrated.  Then he remembered that Knight suggest he call.
Maybe there was still hope.  His face brightened and he headed for his
car.

        Nick watched from the entrance, amused, and heartened.  He had
not felt the slightest blip in his control.  Nothing.  Maybe things
were not as bad as he thought.  All he'd felt was some hostility
towards a trespasser, until he'd seen how young and naive his
trespasser had been, that is.  Someday that kid might be a decent
reporter.  You had to give him credit for trying.
        Nick turned and headed up the stairs to the loft, feeling a
lot better about his state of mind.
        His machine was blinking.  Again.  Nick walked over and hit
the play button.
        "Hi Nick," Nat said.  "Where are you?  I just wanted to know
how you are doing?  Give me a call, or better yet, why don't you drop
by.  They don't want me wandering around for another twenty-four hours
in case I have a relapse or something.  Like I'm going to have a
relapse."  There was a pause, and then Natalie continued in a softer
voice, "I just wanted to say thanks for everything.  For saving my
life, for listening.  For...well you know what for.  Call me."
        Nick listened and felt something unclench itself from around
his heart.  Natalie sounded almost shy, as if uncertain what the world
was like after the honest unburdening of their hearts.  Impulsively,
Nick decided to go see her.  He needed to see her.  Yesterday, he
reasoned, had been reaction to fantastic circumstances.  Things had
settled back onto an even keel.  It would be okay.  Josh Broder had
proven that.
        He took the fast way and flew, landing gently on her roof.
Carefully he surveyed the area for reporters, and found one at the
south entrance to her apartment building.  He entered from the north,
and hurried down the hall, anxious now, to see her, to tell her what
had happened.
        He caught the first whiff of her scent about 10 meters from
her door.  Like dry kindling in a brushfire, Nick ignited, going up in
flames.  The vampire roared to life at the scent, wanting her, needing
her, and Nick stumbled to his knees, completely consumed by it.
        Nick lifted his head and stared at her door with golden eyes,
his hands shaking as they supported him where he knelt.  Like a siren
song she called to him, and his bones seemed to crack as he struggled
for control.  For timeless moments he knelt there caught between the
vampire who needed to take her life to complete his, and the man who
loved her and valued her life beyond his own.
        Finally, Nick turned and fled with an anguished cry from
Natalie's presence, as if the hounds from hell were on his heels.



Chapter 7

O what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
  -- Hamlet, Act III, Scene I

        Nick flew from Natalie's place, nearly at the speed of sound,
tears streaming down his face, trying to outrun his thoughts, his
desires, and the need.  The need for her blood.  But he couldn't
outrun it.  The need had been so strong, the desire had literally
overwhelmed him.  He *needed* her blood.
        He flew far from Toronto, landing only when exhaustion
battered him to the ground.  Nick crashed under a tree and wept until
there was nothing left inside.  No tears, no hope, no laughter, no
desire.  Only the utter emptiness of exhaustion.  He lay there for a
long, long time.  Hours.  Spent.  Not understanding.
        He'd learned control over centuries of practice, and in a
single day it was gone.  At least where Natalie was concerned.  Both
the man and the vampire wanted her, desperately, and having had a
taste through his memories, neither had any control.  With a sigh,
Nick finally sat up, knowing the dawn was coming, and wearily headed
home.
        He felt her as soon as he'd walked in the door.  Quietly, Nick
looked up to where she stood on the second floor balcony.  Janette
looked back soberly.  She raised an eyebrow over his appearance.
        "Mon cher..."
        Nick felt something break inside him at her soft, sympathetic
tones.
        Tears flooded his eyes and he turned away, to lean wearily
against the wall.  A whisper of silk told him she was behind him.
        "It's all right, Nicolas, it's all right," she said
soothingly, slowly stroking his shoulder.
        A shudder escaped him, and she encircled him with her arms and
pressed her body close.  Her comfort seeped into him.  "I have felt
your pain, Nicolas, yesterday, and now, tonight.  So much pain, I
couldn't let you bear it alone."
        Nick stilled at her undemanding presence, so different from
LaCroix' inquiries, and felt something like peace for the first time
since he'd left Natalie's door.  He turned into her embrace.
        "Janette..."
        "Shhh, just be still," she whispered in his ear as he clutched
her convulsively.
        They stood there quietly for several minutes, then with a sigh,
Nick raised his head, and Janette released him with a slow, liquid
grace, and taking his hand, led him to the sofa.
        She pushed him down on the sofa, and sitting beside him,
pulled his head down on her breast.
        "Do you want to talk about it, mon cher?"
        Nick shook his head.  "I don't think I can, Janette.  Not yet."
        She stroked his hair back from his forehead.  "Very well.
When you are ready, you will find the words.  But I do not like to
find you like this, Nicolas.  It makes me very sad, very depressed,
and it makes LaCroix *very* grouchy.
        Nick smiled against her.  "It does, doesn't it?"
        "Oui, and he is so...annoying when he is grouchy.  So much in
the way.  He stomps around and makes even Alma want to stake him."
        Nick laughed, as Janette intended, and she smiled.  Looking
down at him tenderly, she asked, "so what can we do, eh?"
        Nick kissed her breast tenderly and sat up.  "I'm sorry,
Janette, I know this hasn't been very comfortable for you either.  I'm
surprised you're not here throwing things at me for all the backwash."
        "It crossed my mind, but," she shrugged, "I didn't think it
would do any good.  Sometimes, Nicolas, you are so *very* moody, did
you know that?"
        He smiled at her, "Yes, I know.  Sorry."
        She caressed his chin, with her finger, "so, what can I do to
get you out of the dumps, and LaCroix out of the Raven?"
        Nick looked at her guiltily, "He's at the Raven?"
        "Not now, but he spent a much of the night, waiting for you to
show up, bothering Miklos, and irritating Alma, but with the dawn
coming he went home, and then--then I came here."
        "I'm sorry," Nick said again, knowing that he'd caused her a
lot of trouble.
        Janette tilted her head and waited.
        "I'm out of control, Janette," Nick admitted finally, "and I'm
not sure why.  Something happened the other day, and...I don't know
what to do."
        "If you would stay on a proper diet, Nicolas, these things
might not happen, you know."
        "Don't, Janette," Nick said softly.
        She made a small moue of annoyance, but said nothing more.
        A faint pink suddenly flooded the room, and Nick looked up
startled to realize the day was upon them.  He picked up the remote
and closed the shutters.  Then he looked at Janette.
        "Are you spending the day?" he asked quietly.
        "It would appear so, mon cher."
        "Then you can have the bed."
        Janette dimpled and shook her head at Nicolas.  He was so much
the man of honour, even after all these centuries.
        "Don't you want to share it?" she asked.
        Nick shook his head, thinking of Natalie.  He wasn't going to
ruin it after all they'd gone through, not after what had happened in
the rubble.  Not this way.
        "I'm sorry, Janette, but no."
        "Ah, Natalie," Janette said, "she would not be happy, no?"
        Nick shook his head with a smile, "No."
        "Very well, Nicolas, I will take the bed, and you may have the
couch."
        But his sleep was restless, and Nick woke again and again,
covered in sweat.  Afraid.  His dreams were full of nightmares,
nightmare visions of the future.  And Nick was desperately afraid.  He
felt so much fear, fear for Natalie, fear of himself and what he
might, what he would do, if he was near her.  He was so afraid...
        "Nicolas!"
        "Janette?"  Nick woke in confusion, unable to think, fear
clutching at his heart.
        "You've been screaming, I do not think you are all right.
Come!"
        Firmly, she pulled him off the couch and up the stairs and
just as firmly pushed him into the bed.  "You will sleep much better
here."
        Nick didn't argue, but he didn't think he would sleep better
anywhere until he figured out how to stop himself from killing
Natalie.
        He was completely surprised when Janette crawled in behind
him.  Startled, he looked at her.
        She shook her tousled head.  "No, Nicolas, just let me hold
you.  You need to sleep."
        He knew better to argue with her when she had that look on her
face.  He lay down, and she put her arms around him.
        "Sleep, Nicolas," she whispered.
        And he had, finally.  He'd slept.  In her arms.

        Night had brought him back to consciousness.  And Janette was
gone.  He wasn't sure how he felt about that.  She'd eased his soul,
if only for a little while, and asked nothing in return.
        His mind was still in turmoil, and Nick was no closer to
solving his problem, yet he was determined to face his mortal life, no
matter what.
        What he couldn't face was the eleven messages from a more and
more distraught Natalie.  He listened to them as he moodily drank a
whole bottle of blood.  He didn't know what to do.
        He decided to go to work. It was probably not the best
decision, but he couldn't help it.  He needed to get out of the loft.

        He found her note stuck in the Caddy's steering wheel.

        "Mon cher,

                Your Natalie will be all right.  You love
                her too much to hurt her.

                Yes.  You talk in your sleep.  It is a very
                bad habit.

                                Janette"

        Nick carefully folded the note and tucked it away in his
pocket.  He hoped she was right.  But the way things were...he just
didn't know.



Chapter 8

How would you suggest my getting close to him?
  -- Electra

        Natalie Lambert, M.D. chewed her thumbnail in frustration.
She stared at the computer screen in front of her, but didn't see a
thing.  Her mind was in knots.  Square knots.  Slip knots.  Half hitch
knots.  Overhand knots.  She frowned.  There were two more that Richie
had taught her, but her memory failed her.  It didn't matter.  She was
still in knots.
        Tonight was her first night back at work, to the cheers of
staff members.  A small party had been held in the morgue to celebrate
the miraculous survival of Dr. Natalie Lambert.  It was overshadowed,
though, by the grim sadness as they all struggled with the
overwhelming loss of so many good officers.  Jerry Birch, one of the
forensic team was among them.  Mark Gilbert, Del Chase, and other
officers who had leaned against the walls and made jokes with Natalie,
had died.  Friends, colleagues--all dead.  So many dead, without
reason, while she was alive.
        Natalie felt strangely guilty for living.  It was an odd
feeling, this guilt.  Guilt for surviving.  Guilt for something she
had no control over.  She would be dead if it hadn't been for Nick.
She knew that without any doubt.  She'd survived because of Nick, not
because of anything she had done or known.  She was alive through a
twist of fate, and so many others weren't.  She often struggled with
Nick over his rampant guilt, but she'd never before been the one
feeling it.  She felt a little more empathy for him now--or she would
have--if she had any idea what was going on.
        Nick, too, had returned to work tonight, or so she had heard,
from various sources.  Everybody had been telling her.  Everybody
except Nick.  She hadn't seen or heard from him since he left her in
the hospital looking desperate and hungry.  Natalie must have filled
his answering machine up with messages, each more urgent and
concerned.  And he hadn't answered, not by phone, mail, email, carrier
pigeon, telegram, or beeper.  She felt almost desperate.  Scared.
Frightened.
        The only thing she hadn't done was drive over to the loft.
First because she'd been grounded by the doctor until tonight, and
second because she was afraid he'd decided to move back from
everything they'd said.  She knew she was being stupid--assuming in
her fear what he was thinking and doing--because inevitably you could
never be sure what someone else was thinking, but still, she hadn't
heard from him.  And she was scared.
        It was probably something else, something she didn't
understand.  She hoped so.  Natalie couldn't stop remembering the look
on his face.  If she had to put a name to it, it might be fear.  But
what did Nick have to fear?
        And why hadn't he called?  Why?
        She could only hope he would come by and talk with her.  If
not, as soon as she got off work, she would go see him.  They'd moved
beyond this.  One way or another she needed to understand, and she
needed to help him.  Help get that look off his face.
        Grace walked into the lab, a huge smile on her face, but it
died as she saw Natalie's worried look.  Even worse, Natalie was biting
her nails, a sure sign of trouble.
        Grace took a deep breath, "Okay, Lambert, what is it?"
        Natalie jumped, and her chair squeaked underneath her.  "Oh,
Grace, you startled me."
        "No kidding.  You are so deep in a fog, girlfriend, I could
light a fire on your desk and you wouldn't notice.  What's wrong?"
        Natalie shook her head.  "Nothing's wrong, Grace."
        "Sorry, but I won't buy that for a second.  You look like
someone killed Sydney."
        Natalie laughed, "Not likely.  Sydney's going to outlive me.
He has nine-squared lives."
        "Then I guess," Grace concluded, "it's Nick that's making you
look like life has ended."
        Natalie gave Grace a nasty look.  "Don't be ridiculous."
        "HAH!" Grace snorted.  "It's always Mr. De-Tec-Tive Man that
gives you heartburn.  What'd he do now?"
        "Grace...," Natalie sighed.  "It's not what he's done, it's
just that he's not acting normal...since we were trapped.  Something
is wrong.  Really wrong.  Something happened while we were sitting
under twenty tons of cement, and I don't know what it is."
        Grace, hearing the fear in Natalie's voice, sat down in her
"Visitor's Chair" and gave Nat a concerned look.  "What do you mean,
he's not acting normal?"
        Natalie sighed and pushed back from her terminal.  She stared
up at the ceiling.  "I don't know for sure.  When I last saw him at
the hospital, he looked dead white.  Scared, you know.  But Schanke
was there making jokes, and I couldn't ask.  And since then, I haven't
heard from him.  At all."
        Natalie looked over at Grace.  "I've filled up his answering
machine, and he's not returned a single message.  Yet," Natalie spread
her arms wide, "everybody tells me he's here at work tonight.  And I'm
the last to know."  Her last words had a hint of tears in them.
        "Honey," Grace said finally, "did something happen while you
were buried alive that would make him need some space?"
        Natalie stared at her hands.  "I don't think so.  We
talked--pretty seriously--about stuff.  We didn't know if we were
going to live or die, and we said some pretty honest things, but
everything seemed really good."  Natalie looked up at Grace, tears
slipping down her face.  "Everything was fine when I fell asleep."
        Natalie stood abruptly and began pacing tensely.  "That damned
concussion!  I'd know what happened if I hadn't gone to sleep!"
        "How do you know something happened after you went to sleep?"
Grace asked watching Nat pace.
        "Because...I just do.  I know Nick.  I know his moods, and he
was fine.  We were fine.  You know," Natalie said slowly, "in some
ways, it was one of those moments in a relationship that define it."
She stared at the morgue table, seeing in her mind, Nick lying there
dead, and waking up to change her life.
        Natalie turned and looked at Grace.  "We changed levels in
that pile of rubble."
        "Maybe he got cold feet," Grace suggested.  "It's possible,
isn't it?"
        Natalie shook her head.  "Even if Nick had cold feet up to his
elbows, he wouldn't avoid me like this.  No," she said positively,
"it's something else.  And I'm scared."
        Grace stared at Natalie, thinking fast.  Nick had actually
said something Natalie could nail down and hang on to.  That had to be
a miracle.  He was one slippery bachelor.  Yet, Nat wasn't concerned
that he'd panicked.  It seemed, to Grace, that would be the first thing
someone like Nick would do.  But then she didn't know him like Natalie
did.  So...., "What are you going to do, then?" Grace asked.
        Natalie took a deep breath.  "If he doesn't come by or call
during the shift, I guess I'm going to have to face him in the lion's
den."
        "The Loft, you mean?" Grace shook her head.  "I don't know.
If he's acting like you've got the plague, you might want to give him
time to think you've been cured."
        Natalie laughed at Grace's analogy.  "Maybe, but with Nick,
the longer you let him fester, the worse it is.  If I've got the
plague, he's going to get it along with me."
        Grace rose as Natalie's phone rang.  "I hope you know what
you're doing." Shaking her head, Grace left as Natalie picked up her
phone.
        "So do I," Natalie breathed, hoping it was Nick, before
answering, "Lambert."
        But it wasn't Nick.  And for the rest of the shift, it wasn't
Nick.  Not on the phone, not standing smiling in the doorway, not
dragging Schanke, wisecracking, behind him.
        Natalie thought about taking some papers over to the precinct
as an excuse, but couldn't bring herself to do it.  She couldn't
confront him in front of a precinct full of people who were probably
speculating madly over what they said and did while stuck in the dark
together.
        Several people had made comments about how lucky Nat had been.
"If you have to be stuck somewhere, at least you picked the right guy
to be stuck with," Anna DeLoretto had said wistfully.  But then
Natalie knew she had a crush on Nick.
        Who was she kidding, Natalie thought.  Anna may have a crush
on him, but I'm in love with him.  In love.  With a vampire.  "Talk
about suicidal," Natalie murmured as she watched the clock tick the
seconds and minutes by.  Finally the hours disappeared, and it was
time to go home.
        Grace patted her softly on the arm as Natalie left.  "You be
careful, girlfriend.  I don't want to see you hurting."
        Natalie smiled and walked to the car.  Through her tears, she
fumbled for the lock, and finally got the key in and unlocked the
door.  Sitting in her car, she wondered why Nick hadn't called and at
least left her a phone mail message.  It had been sixty-two hours
since she'd last seen him.  Sixty-two empty hours.
        She took a deep breath, started the car, and headed for the
loft.



Chapter 9

For what of the things I have, or all I never had?
  -- Electra

        Nick stomped into the loft, slamming the elevator door back
abusively in his frustration.  He shouldn't have gone to work.  That
was all there was to it.  Until he could get a handle on things, he
should just stay home.  And yet, he felt such a compulsive need to be
there, to solve the case, to get back into his life.  But at the same
time, he put himself and Natalie at risk just by being someplace she
might be.
        He'd done okay until Cohen mentioned they were setting up a
press conference.  The Commissioner had decided that they would kill
two birds with one stone and have a single conference with Nick and
Natalie answering questions for all the hoards of television, paper,
and independent reporters that wanted to pry into their lives.
        Worse, they wanted to do it tomorrow.
        Nick stared out the window morosely.
        He'd convinced the Captain, with a little help, that tomorrow
would be too soon.  He'd gotten a reprieve.  One day.  Cohen had
insisted on the day after.
        Nick might as well stake himself now and get it over with.  It
would save the reporters a lot of time.  Put him in the same room as
Natalie, and the whole world would know about vampires.  They'd stake
him with their microphones...
        Depression hung around him like a stale cloud.  Nick walked
over to the fridge and yanked the door open.  Angrily, he grabbed a
bottle, pulled the cork out in a single smooth motion, and drained
half of it.
        He sank down on the steps and stared at the bottle,
remembering the firestorm that had swept over him when he'd attempted
to see Natalie.  It still frightened him to think how badly he wanted
her.  How close he'd come to taking her blood.
        And then he'd gone to work.  Not the smartest thing he'd ever
done in his life.  He'd managed to avoid a visit to the morgue, but
the price had been high.  Schanke was very suspicious that Nick was
avoiding Natalie.
        Nick had no idea what to do, or what to say to Natalie.  He
listened to her messages again, as he finished off the bottle.  It
hurt to listen to the growing pain in her voice.  Yet, he doubted he
could talk to her and remain rational.  But he tried.  He dialed her
phone number with a trembling hand, but he when he heard her
recording, he began to shake uncontrollably.  He hung up and backed
away from the phone like it was holy water.  What the hell was he
going to do?
         Wearily Nick shook his head.  Maybe there was no alternative
but to move on.
        Move on.
        He hated the thought.  But what else could he do, if he
couldn't control the vampire around Natalie?  He wasn't even sure he
could control his other very mortal impulses, either.
        Move on...
        Suddenly, Nick was aware that the elevator was moving.
Somehow in his despair and pain, he'd forgotten one very essential
thing.  Natalie had the security combination to the loft.  LaCroix
never used the door, nor Janette.  And Schanke always liked to rant
at him through the security camera.  Only Natalie would just come up...
        "Oh, no...," Nick whispered as it locked into place.

        Natalie walked into the loft and blinked.  The loft was
completely dark.  The quiet was deafening.  She hesitated in the
doorway feeling uncertain.
        "Nick?" Her question fell into stony silence.  She took a step
towards the stairway entrance where she could turn on the lights, and
stopped at the chilling sound of Nick's voice.
        "Don't...."
        Natalie turned towards the sound, somewhere by the windows,
down by the fireplace.  "Nick?"
        "Stay where you are, Natalie," Nick said.  The timbre of his
voice was low and strained.  "Or go.  But don't come any nearer."
        "Why?  What's wrong, Nick?" Natalie asked, her voice
trembling.
        "You shouldn't have come," he whispered.  The sound ended in a
growl.
        Natalie, at last adjusting to the darkness, saw him standing
pressed against the window, turned away from her, his hands gripping
the windowsill tightly.
        "Why, Nick?"  Natalie asked through sudden tears.
        He turned his head, and she gasped.  He stared at her with
malevolent crimson eyes.  She'd never seen them that color.
Greeny-gold, and gold, but not red.  She hadn't known they could go
red.
        Nick stared at her through the red haze of lust and hunger for
only a moment before he wrenched around to stare out the window.  His
grip on the sill tightened, crushing the brick, leaving permanent
imprints.  His muscles ached with the effort it took to keep him on
this side of the room.  His body quivered.  He stared out the window
at the sliver of jaundiced yellow moon sliding towards the horizon.
        He refused to give in to the lust, to the hunger and need, and
so he stood, welded to the spot.  But at least he stood, rather than
running towards or away from her.
        It might be called progress.
        "Nick?" Natalie asked again.
        Nick turned his head slightly in her direction.  "I can't
control the vampire."
        "But...you went to work, didn't you?"
        "I can't control it around you." Nick said slowly, thickly
around his fully extended fangs.  "I nearly took your life in the
rubble.  If Schanke and the rescue team hadn't gotten there when they
did, you would have died.  In the hospital...," he choked over the
words, "and when I tried to come see you at home."
        Natalie listened in appalled silence, not understanding how
this had happened.  She managed to latch on to the last part of his
sentence.  "You came to see me?"
        "I got to your hallway, and I lost control," Nick said, his
voice distorted by the vampire's hunger into a cruel mockery of his
normal tones.
        Natalie shivered in fear, and her heart sped up.
        Nick lifted his head and listened to it, caught up in the
incessant call.  Blood...
        "So that's why you didn't call?" Natalie whispered, half to
herself.
        Nick shook himself, struggling to listen to her voice and not
her heart.
        "I tried, but I couldn't.   You should go, Nat.  I don't know
how long I can control it."
        "I can't, Nick.  Not without understanding.  I trust you.  I
know you won't hurt me.  I'll...I'll just stand here, right by the
door.  I won't come any closer.  If you tell me what happened, maybe I
can help fix it," Natalie said desperately.  "We've come too far,
Nick.  We can overcome this."
        Nick laughed, a bitter angry laugh, filled with the vampires
hunger, and Natalie felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
        "I don't think so," Nick said as he pressed himself harder
against the wall, as if to meld with it and become one.  Her blood was
a sweet nectar in the air, and he closed his eyes and breathed it in.
An odd melody seemed to play in his head, calling him, beckoning him
to take her.
        Natalie stepped back against the door and spoke firmly, taking
a scientific approach.  "Why don't you start at the beginning, Nick.
What made you lose control?"
        Nick turned and stared at her, his eyes glowing a dull sickly
copper.
        Natalie swallowed and tried to contain her sudden fear.  She
felt cold all over.  She'd never been afraid of Nick before, not even
in the Raven when he'd threatened her had she been truly afraid, but
she was now.  She was terrified.
        "Do you know, Natalie, that you talk in your sleep?"
        "Wha...?" Natalie was confused by the question.
        "You talked in your sleep.  I was holding you, while you
slept, and you started mumbling.  A jumble of nonsense at first.  But
then..."
        Natalie stared at Nick, where he was starkly silhouetted
against the window.  Black against white.  Evil against good.
        "And then?" she prompted.
        Nick looked at her again, and she felt pinned under his hot
gaze.  Suddenly, she knew if he called her in this state, she would be
unable to resist.  His seductive power beat down upon her like a
relentless, hungry sun.
        "You talked about the ring...  My ring."
        Natalie stopped breathing, on a sharp intake of air.
        "You know," Nick said almost conversationally, "I thought I'd
experienced just about everything you can in 800 years, but I never
could have imagined this...or prepared myself for it."
        "Oh, Nick, I'm..." Natalie started, tears drowning out her
voice.
        "Don't, Natalie.  If I'm going to say this, I need to just say
it.  No interruptions, no...anything.  And if I tell you to go.  Go.
Don't argue, don't say anything, just run like hell."  His voice was
still much lower than normal, and chilled her like a cold and icy
wind.
        "I have perfect recall, Nat, as a vampire.  I remember
everything in exquisite detail, not only the words, but the feelings,
emotions, of any given moment.  What I'm wearing, the texture of what
I'm feeling, everything is recorded, and I can recall it, if I want.
        "But I don't remember any more than anyone else about my
mortal life.  It's hazy and indistinct--impressions, mostly.  Bits
and pieces, fragments.  Until the other day.
        "Natalie, when you told me you'd given me the ring, I
remembered *everything*.  Every moment, every word, every glance.  It
played out as if it was happening now.  Not as if it happened 800
years ago.  Now.  I lived it.  I felt it.  I experienced it.  As a
man."
        Tears suddenly blurred his words.  "I didn't remember what it
was like to be mortal.  Until now.  I felt my heart beat, and the
blood rushing through my veins.  Every physical sensation, Nat.  Every
emotion.  Everything."
        Natalie brushed at the tears that streamed down her face as
she listened.  She closed her eyes against the pain in his voice.
        "It was so intense.  I can't begin to describe what it felt
like."  Nick looked away, and choked back his anguish.
        Natalie bit back the words she wanted to say and remained
silent, afraid that any word or movement on her part might provoke
Nick and cause him to lose the tenuous hold he had.
        "Do you know that I felt the sun on my face, Natalie," he said
softly, sounding almost normal, "for the first time in 800 years as
something warm.  It felt like a caress on my skin.  It was glorious.
I watched a sunset.  And food," he said with awe, "I ate and enjoyed
it all.  The texture of things, the taste, the feeling of being full.
It was incredible.
        "I can remember it all, perfectly, Nat.  Because I lived it as
a vampire.  And it's all recorded now.  Perfectly.  Absolutely.
Indelibly. I don't think there are words that can adequately describe
what a wonderful gift you gave me.  You gave me the sun.  You
gave me the daylight.  I will always be able to remember it now.
Always."
        He fell silent.
        Natalie swallowed.  "Nick?"
        "Don't," he said gently.  He sounded like Nick, and when he
looked at her, his crimson eyes had slid into gold.  And then as she
watched they wavered and glowed an angry crimson once again.  When
he spoke, his voice was rough and raised goosebumps on her skin.
        "I can also remember every kiss, every word, every touch
between us.  I had this instinctive trust and love for you, from the
moment I saw you standing there in the sunlight.  And I loved you.
        "I can feel the passion that was between us.  It was like a
living river.  It's there, even now, between us, Natalie.  Can you
feel it?"  He stopped and bit his lip, struggling for control, for
words adequate to describe his feelings.  "Making love to you was so
incredible, so..." words failed him for a moment, "...intense.  It was
the most intense joy, and at the same time the most hellish pain
possible to experience and live.  Because the vampire was there, too.
Feeling you, loving you, needing you.  Wanting you.  Just like I want
you.  And I can't have you--not without the vampire.  But the vampire
will, Nat.  It needs you!  I need you!  I don't know how to stop it."
        Nick wiped away bloody tears that streaked his face, and
pressed himself harder against the wall as the vampire whispered in
his heart and mind, begging for one taste, just one...
        "It hurt so much, I wanted to die, and I wanted it to go on
forever, because it felt so good.  It was pure sensation."  Nick
sighed and rubbed his hands along the window sill.
        He looked at her, standing still and silent as a shadow,
pressed against the stairwell door, and was suddenly overwhelmed with
desire.  Whether man or beast, he wasn't sure, but it didn't matter.  He
desired her, it was all he could think of.  And then the blood lust
rose, and turned everything a bloody red.  He wrenched himself around
and pressed his head against the glass and tried to ignore her scent
which surrounded and seduced him.
        Natalie watching, slowly reached out and put her hand on the
door, ready to yank it open and run for her life.
        "I love you, Natalie, and I *want* you," Nick said against the
glass, "I want you, and I want your blood.  I *need* your blood.
I've known you, and now nothing will satisfy the vampire, but your
life...  I don't know what to do, or how to control it.
        "You were right to keep this from me.  You were right..."
Nick's voice dwindled away, and he was silent at last.
        Natalie, her hand on the door, wept at his pain, at her pain.
Of all the possibilities she'd imagined if she'd told him the
truth about that night so long ago under the stars, she'd never
imagined this scenario, never.  It had never crossed her mind that he
might literally be torn in two by desire, unable to control himself.
So many times she'd imagined telling him, imagined joy, or pain, and
even in her flights of fantasy, love conquering all.  This indeed was
cold reality. Painful, cold reality.  Love didn't conquer all, and it
might just take her life.
        "I'm so sorry, Nick," she said at last, not really knowing
what to say.
        Nick continued to stare out the window, as if further speech
would send him into the abyss.
        "I didn't ask for my wish to be fulfilled like that.  I didn't
even know wishes could be granted.  I...I didn't even know I was
wishing.  It just...happened." Natalie played with the door handle
nervously.  "But I wouldn't trade one moment of what happened, not for
anything.  For once in my life, I *lived* life fully, and I lived it
with you.  Those few hours we spent together, unencumbered by all
of...our problems, may be all we ever have, but they were worth it.
They are worth every tear, every heartache, every moment of pain,
before and since.  Because *I* know that you love me.  I know that,
Nick.  And you know just how much I love you..."
        Nick turned his head slightly towards her.  "I know," he said
softly.  "I wish...I just wish I could show you how much it meant.  I
wish I could take you in my arms and kiss you, love you.  But I
can't.  I'm not sure after this that I can even be around you.  I may
have to leave, Nat.  It's a constant drain on my willpower.
Sooner or later I'm going to be too tired to fight anymore."
        Natalie closed her eyes against hot tears that welled up in
her eyes at his words.  "There has to be another way," she whispered.
        Nick turned at looked at her angrily.  "There is no other
way.  There is no way to satisfy the vampire--except by blood!"
        Natalie hesitated, and then asked timidly, hating herself for
even asking, "Not even Janette?"
        Nick stared at her in silence from the far corner of the
room.  His eyes pulled at her, willing her closer.
        "No," he said finally, shaken at what her words implied.
"It's not like that."
        Natalie swallowed and tried to think logically.  "Then what is
it like?"
        Nick, confronted with such a bald question, winced.  He didn't
know if he wanted to describe what he was feeling.  "Natalie...," he
sighed.
        "Nick, if I don't know what the symptoms are I can't help, I
can't even make a diagnosis.  Maybe I can't solve this.  Maybe you
will have to...go.  But I'm not giving up without a fight.  I'm not.
So, please...tell me," Natalie pleaded.
        Nick closed his eyes and tried to define exactly what was
going on inside him.  Until now, he'd been too busy fighting it, to
really analyze it.  Slowly he let himself be lost in the feelings and
tried to sort them out.
        The desire seemed to shimmer around him, like a hot, angry
breeze.  He felt as if he was somehow suspended, in that timeless
moment of anticipation just before he would plunge his fangs into his
willing victim's neck.  Head reared back, the anticipation more than
he could bear.
        Nick shuddered, and felt his hold loosen.  He took a step
forward towards Natalie, and then he slammed himself back into the
wall as he realized what was happening.  Natalie gasped in fear, and
pulled the door open.  Nick's head hit the wall with sufficient force
for a mortal to lose consciousness.  For Nick, though, it gave him a
few moments of cold lucidity as the vampire wavered and momentarily
was subsumed by events.
        Nick looked at Natalie with clear blue eyes, and suddenly
understood exactly what the problem was.  Natalie stared back,
hopefully into his gaze, and then watched his eyes shimmer like a
mirage into gold.  Then an angry red.  She stuffed her hand into her
mouth to keep from crying out.
        He stared at her, the heat of his gaze pulling at her, and
Natalie unknowingly took a small step towards him.
        "I'm caught, Natalie, suspended between the hunt and
fulfillment.  When a vampire hunts, it's a game.  A very sensual game,
designed to arouse all the senses.  It's like foreplay--it is
foreplay.  You're lost in pure sensation, magnified far beyond
anything a mortal could stand.  It's heady and intoxicating
and... extremely addictive.  It's one of the things that make it so
hard to stop.  Nothing compares to it.  Nothing.  Sometimes you draw
it out to live on that edge of sensation between pain and ultimate
pleasure."  Nick stopped abruptly as their gazes locked, and Natalie
was suddenly enveloped in the heat of his desire.
        Natalie caught her lip between her teeth and folded her arms,
feeling far out of her depth at his bald description of the ultimate
sexuality of a vampire--and at the unexpected desire blooming inside
her to experience it, to have him take her. After a moment, he
continued, in a deeper, more seductive tone.
        "I'm at that moment when I've...I've pulled my victim against
me, and bared their neck.  I'm holding off just one more second,
sustaining that moment before climax, before..."  Nick took a deep
shuddering breathe.  "I never get there, Natalie.  And I *need* to get
there.  I can't remain suspended here forever.  I have to either get
away from the source, or I've got to..."
        "...take the blood." Natalie finished softly.  "My blood."
        "Yes."
        Nick looked away abruptly, and Natalie found she could think
rationally again.
        "How did you get caught at that moment?" Natalie pondered the
thought, the scientist in her kicking in.
        "I don't know.  It's all tangled up with the remembering,"
Nick said feeling pain suddenly in every pore.  "That's why Janette
can't help," Nick said tightly, "she can't complete this hunt.  She
might assuage the need temporarily, but the scent has been caught and
tracked, and it's yours.  Not hers."
        Natalie gulped at his brutal honest.  "Maybe, because I was
there in your arms, maybe because my scent..."
        "Nat," Nick said desperately, feeling his control suddenly
slip, feeling the desire rage through him like a firestorm, "Get out!
NOW!"  The frankness of their discussion had cracked the last of his
self control into a thousand pieces.  All he could think of was her
blood, as it suddenly overwhelmed him.  His last conscious thought was
to throw himself to the ground, trying to tangle himself in the
furniture, giving Natalie precious seconds to escape before he was up
and after her.
        Natalie with a cry, opened the door with such violence it
slammed into the wall, cracking the plaster.  She fled down the stairs
two at a time, tears flowing down her face.  She reached her car in
seconds, and not even waiting to shut the door, started the engine.
        Nick leapt from the floor and raced down the stairs after her,
caught up in the lust.  He flew out the door and literally brushed his
hand against the bumper as she sped away with her door open.  He
briefly lost her scent in the combination of fresh air and exhaust,
and sanity returned.  Nick threw himself back, away from the car.
        Natalie slammed her foot down hard on the pedal and sped
away into the night, weeping in fear and sorrow.  "Not home," she
cried.  "I can't go home until dawn.  Somewhere with people."
        Behind her, Nick watched the tail lights disappear down the
street, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, his body shaking, and
then he fell to his knees as realization sunk in.  He'd been so close
to her when she'd driven off.  The blood had been so close... Natalie.
Blood.  Nick shook with the realization he'd almost killed her.  Only
the fact that he'd momentarily lost her scent, had saved her from
death.  He wiped a hand shakily across his mouth.
        Frustration and rage warred with relief as he looked up
at the lightening sky.  Dawn wasn't far away.  She'd be safe.  Safe.
He could control himself until the sun came up.  He could contain it
for that long.  He hoped.
        He dragged himself up off the ground and walked wearily back
into the loft, hating his life, hating himself for what he had done,
for what he still might do.  And desperately afraid.



Chapter 10

What shall become of this?  What will this do?
  -- Much Ado About Nothing, Act IV, Scene I

        Natalie inspected the bottom of her coffee cup tiredly.
Caffeine was just not going to do it for her this morning.  She had
already been terrified out of her wits, and she was running on empty
now that the adrenaline had washed out of her system.
        She had driven away from the loft without looking
back--terrified even to look in the rear view mirror--afraid of what
she might see.  She had come straight to Kelly's diner, a favorite
haunt of the police.  At Kelly's diner, she knew, she could wait out
the night with friends, and then she could go home and try and find a
way out of this special little hell she and Nick were caught in.
There had to be a way.  There just had to be!
        She stared out the window and watched the sun rise between
Toronto's skyscrapers.  Dawn had given way to morning, and still
Natalie hesitated to go home.  In the state Nick had been in, would
he, could he, possibly lie in wait at her place?  Or had sanity
returned?  She didn't know.  All she knew was he had completely lost
control.  Completely.
        "More coffee, Dr. Lambert?" Jeanne asked.  Natalie looked up
at the waitress and smiled.
        "No thanks, Jeanne, I think it's time to go home and get some
shut-eye.  Something I should have done hours ago."
        "You look a little out of sorts.  Anything I can do?" Jeanne
asked sympathetically.  It wasn't often Dr. Lambert came in, and when
she did, it was usually with the gang from the morgue.  Tonight she
had come in looking like she'd seen a ghost.  Jeanne was also sure
that her face had been streaked with tears.
        But she'd gone straight to the restroom, and when she'd come
back, Dr. Lambert had hidden whatever demons chased her behind her
professional demeanor, and a freshly scrubbed face.
        "No," Natalie said with a smile.  "But I appreciate your
asking.  It's just been a hell of a night.  Way beyond my usual
experience.  I needed someplace to just sit and think it through."
Someplace, Natalie thought, where a vampire wouldn't, couldn't attack,
that is.
        "Well, if you need someone to talk to, you know where to find
me," Jeanne said as she placed Natalie's ticket down.
        "Thanks," Natalie murmured as Jeanne walked away.  Time, she
thought to herself, to face the music.  She needed to go home and take
a long hot shower.  Then, she had until sunset to figure out a
solution to Nick's problem.  Not a lot of time.
        Sighing, Natalie paid her bill and walked out into the clear
blue day, and headed for her car.
        It was only when she started up the car that she realized the
solution to her first problem.  She rummaged through her bag and found
her cell phone.  After a moment's hesitation, she punched in Nick's
number.
        His answering machine picked up.
        "This is Nick Knight.  I'm either in bed or incommunicado.
Leave
a message." BEEEEEEP.
        "Nick," Natalie said firmly, "pick up the phone.  I know you
are sitting there in a blue funk.  Pick up the phone.  NOW!"
        She crossed her fingers and waited.  After an interminable
moment, Nick picked up the phone.
        "Nat," he said sounding like he'd been run over by a
semi-truck.
        "Nick.  Good, you're there."
        "Where else would I be?" Nick said angrily.
        "Well, I was a little concerned you might be hanging out at my
place waiting for me.  Now I know you aren't so I'm going home."
        "...Oh, Natalie, I'm so sorr..."
        "Nick," Natalie interrupted, "don't be.  This is something a
little outside our normal experience.  I understand.  Well, sort of.
But I want you to know, I'm going to go home and take a hot shower and
then I'm going to figure this out.  I'm not going to lose you.  And I
just wanted you to know that before you did anything rash." Natalie
spoke quickly, not allowing Nick to get into the conversation.  As far
as she was concerned, this was a declaration of war.  "And one other
thing.  Even if we never have anything more than we have now, I want
you to know that it is worth it."
        Nick remained silent for a moment, and then finally, "Thank
you.  For everything.  I don't deserve you, especially after tonight.
But thank you.  But Natalie, if we can't find a solution in the next
twenty-four hours, then I'm leaving.  I have to.  I don't want to go,
but I'll have to."
        Natalie fought back tears.  "I know.  But you're not going to
have to leave.  I promise.  I'll call you tonight, I promise."
        "....Okay."  Nick whispered.
        And Natalie hung up.  She put the car in gear and headed for
home.  She had a lot of work to do.

        Nick stared at the phone in his hand in wonder.  Somehow,
someway, Natalie had forgiven him.  He'd gone after her and she'd
forgiven him.  He could have wept at that, if he had any more tears,
but he'd already spent them in the last hour in his shame and anger.
He'd gone after Natalie, and he burned with humiliation at the
thought.  She'd become no more than a means to an end, he hadn't even
known who she was, only that she was his.
        He took a deep breath and hung up the phone.  He stared around
the loft, wondering if he would be here tomorrow.  Or if he would be
gone, leaving this life behind.  The thought tore him apart.  He loved
this life.  He'd found more joy here, more excitement, and happiness
than he'd found in a long, long time.  He'd found hope, because he'd
found Natalie Lambert.  Ever since he'd woken up on her table, his
life had ceased to be a cold and empty hell.  Because of Natalie.  If
he left her, he knew it would become an empty sham, a mockery of life.
And yet if he stayed, he'd kill her.  And then what would his life be?
Over, something seemed to whisper to him.  It would be over.  There
would be *nothing* left to live for.  If she died, then so would he...
        As far as he could see, he was in a lose/lose situation,
unless Natalie could come up with a solution.  As much as he wanted to
believe that she could, he didn't think it was possible.  He felt
hollow and empty with fear.
        Nick suddenly realized he'd reached the limits of his
endurance for one day, and wearily pulled himself up the stairs and
went to bed, seeking oblivion.  Release from the pain, release from
the incessant desire whispering to him.  Release...

        Natalie put her hands on the shower wall and leaned against it
while the hot water poured down on her, massaging her, and clearing
her thoughts.  It felt so good, that she stood there until the water
began to cool.  Reluctantly she turned off the water and wrapping a
towel around her, stepped out into the sauna her bathroom had turned
into.  Slowly she wiped the steam off the mirror and stared at her
reflection.
        "How," Natalie asked herself "are you going to solve this one,
Lambert?  Especially when you look like a drowned rat?"  There was no
answer from the drowned rat in the mirror, so Natalie found a comb and
combed her hair into some semblance of order, and then quietly dressed
in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings.
        In the kitchen, she found breakfast for Sydney who curled
around her legs constantly, rubbing himself against her, and then made
scrambled eggs and toast for herself.  Sipping hot chocolate as she
ate, she began to assemble the brutal facts that Nick had told her.
        On some other day, she might have spent time being fascinated
with the sexual behavior of vampires.  Today, though, she only had one
object in mind.
        "How do we get Nick to a climax without killing me?" she
murmured, stating the facts in their simplest form.  How, indeed?
        It had all started in the dark, in the rubble.  Natalie had
talked in her sleep, talked about the ring.  The ring she had given
him so long ago under a starry sky in France, as a way to remember
their love through the centuries.
        With her thoughtless babble, Nick had been kicked into some
kind of state where he'd literally experienced the remembered events.
        "Remind me," Natalie told Sydney, who'd curled up on her lap,
"never to talk in my sleep again."  Sydney rubbed his head against her
hand with his eyes half closed and then resumed licking his paw.
        "Okay," Natalie said, "Nick remembered our excellent
adventure.  So what did he remember?  Let's see.  We met on that
little path and I convinced him that he knew and trusted me.  Then
what?"
        Natalie wished, briefly, that she was a vampire, or at least
had a vampire's perfect recall, but already, only a few months after
the fact, it was a hazy memory.
        She remembered lunch, a lazy indulgent affair as they explored
and created a bridge between them built out of friendship and love.
They had chatted half the afternoon away, while Nick tossed grapes in
the air and caught them in his mouth.  Natalie sat, chin on hand for a
moment, remembering that simple joy.
        Then, Nick had then invited her out for a canter through
glades and forest dells on his horse. Natalie closed her eyes and
relived it, the magic, the surreal atmosphere, the heady feeling of
lovers just met, or at a tryst.  It had been magical.  And then it had
taken a turn into more turbulent emotions, as Nick asked her if they
were lovers, and her not too believable denial.  Sighing, she stirred
her lukewarm chocolate.
        And, then, at last, Natalie let herself remember the night.
Passion.  Touching and being touched.  Sharing everything.  Starlight
and moonlight watching over them.  His arms around her, his lips on
hers, trailing down her neck...  Natalie took a deep breath.  She
didn't think she could go there.  Not now, not today.  She needed to
be logical, and down that path lay emotion.  And yet, there had been
nothing as sweet as falling asleep in his arms, or waking at the touch
of his lips on her, his hands.  Natalie stood abruptly and paced the
around the table.  Sydney fled under the table and watched her with a
twitchy tail.  She shouldn't let herself dwell on it too much.  It was
too hard to remember, especially with things the way they were.
        But the memories would not be denied, and she remembered
waking to his touch.  The laughter, the pain, his pleading with her to
stay.  The moment when she'd had to realized the pain she'd brought
him.  And then the ring.  She'd given him the ring, and knowing dawn
was coming, had asked him to make love to her just once more.
        Natalie shut her eyes as tears trickled down her face.  The
memories were bittersweet, for she'd woken to watch his slow
breathing, touch his skin, and hold his hand, but he had slept on, as
Arthur had decreed.  Then she had left him, the hardest thing she'd
ever done.
        Nick would have woken later, alone and lonely.  And sometime
that morning, his memories were removed.  Natalie closed her eyes in
pain, as it all became so real again.  So immediate.
        She took a breath and sat down again, and tapped her hand
impatiently on the table as she thought.  Sydney, deciding it was
safe, leapt back into her lap.  Natalie looked at Sydney.
        "It's just not fair, you know that, Syd.  It just isn't
fair...Nick remembers what happened and all hell breaks loose.  What
about happy endings, huh?  Just once?  I guess it just wasn't meant to
be, was it?" Natalie stared into space thinking hard, talking to
herself, working through it verbally.
        "Somehow, Syd, as he remembered that night, the vampire got
all tangled up in it...," Natalie said.  And then sat up straight
causing Sydney to protest.  She slowly petted him as she thought.
        "Nick and I made love, with the vampire as an observer.  We
made love twice.  WE made love, as mortals, we climaxed, and we reached
orgasm.  The vampire," Natalie said slowly, "did not.  It couldn't.
Not without blood."
        She stared into space, slowly scratching Sydney under the
chin.  His eyes narrowed to slits in utter contentment.  "And that's
how Nick got caught in the middle.  Because he experienced it as
both.  It was right there in front of us.  Just too close to see."
        Natalie looked at Sydney, who waved his tail at her in utter
bliss.  "Okay, Syd.  I've got a hypothesis of how he got there.  Now,
how do I get him out?  I'd sort of like to live through this, you
know.  What's the fun of curing him, if I'm not around to get the
reward?  Huh?"
        "Mrrowww," Sydney agreed.
        "I bet he's been drinking gallons of blood just to keep
control.  I bet it's been human, too.  I imagine he's pretty
desperate.  So I can't give him any old blood, and expect that too
work.  It's got to be my blood.  My life."
        Natalie sighed and decided she needed more chocolate.  She
couldn't seem to think clearly about it.  While she heated water, she
drummed her hand on the counter.
        "My life for his sanity.  Not a very fair trade, is it?"
Natalie asked herself.  "Why does a vampire have to take all of your
blood?  Why do they have to be so greedy.  Why can't they just take a
little?  I mean, what's with this either or thing?  It sounds like no
one every taught them table manners."
        Sydney sat at her feet and listened with his tail waving
gently.  Natalie looked down at him and laughed.  "I bet you think
this whole thing is silly, don't you, Syd?  Here I am whining about
vampires taking more than they need and you are just...," Natalie
trailed off and thought about what she'd just said.
        "What if they don't really need to take it all?  What if it is
just greed?  The big idiots just don't know how to stop.  It's such an
orgasmic rush, they don't quit until there's no rush left?  After all,
it is all wrapped up with sex, isn't it?  Who wants to quit before the
party is over?"
        Sydney wrapped himself around her ankle as Natalie stood lost
in thought.  The water's mad boiling suddenly brought her back to
reality, and she poured her water into her hot chocolate mix stirring
it as it bubbled madly.
        "Damn, now it's too hot.  Can't I even think and heat water at
the same time?"
        She sat down and Sydney eagerly jumped back into her lap.  She
stared at him, excited.
        "What if he only needs a little blood.  Like a pint.  Who said
he had to have it all, or the life.  What if he just needs some of my
blood and poof, the old vampire can climax, and we can all go back to
the status quo, hmmm?  Well, maybe not *quite* the status quo.  But,
hell, who cares, as long as he doesn't have to leave, right?"
        Sydney licked her hand agreeably happy that Natalie was
spending so much time with him.  Usually she spent her time sleeping,
and so did Sydney.
        "After all, nobody says he has to take it direct from the
source.  Just that it's got to be mine."  Natalie began to laugh.  "Oh
Sydney, it can't be that simple, can it?"
        And yet she knew it had to be, or Nick would leave.  This had
to work.  It just had to.  Abruptly, Natalie got up, dumping Sydney on
the floor.  Luckily, he was a cat and with the eerie ability of all
cats, righted himself in mid-air and landed on all four feet.  He
slouched off, peeved to be dumped, and disappeared under the couch to
watch her strange behavior.
        Natalie quickly pulled out her medical equipment and found a
donor bag.  And then she stopped.  She turned and looked at the
clock.  It was 10:28 a.m.  Sundown was around 6 p.m.  Nick was
probably dead to the world.  Stress and tension like he'd been going
through had probably sent him to bed reeling.
        "It probably ought to be as fresh as possible.  Maybe I should
wait until about 5:30 or so.  Then I can rush it over and put it on
his doorstep and leave.  No, it might be better to go over and do this
in the car, then dump it.  Fresh out of the oven, so to speak.  Yeah,
then I call him, tell him to have some dinner, and we see what
happens."
        Natalie suddenly felt very calm and sure of her actions, and
having come to a decision, felt incredibly tired suddenly.  A few
hours would probably help her, too.
        "C'mon, Sydney," Natalie said, "Let's hit the sack. I must be
more tired than I thought not to have realized this earlier."
        Sydney suspiciously trailed after her as Natalie headed for bed,

feeling lightheaded and hopeful.



Chapter 11

Ecstasy?
  -- Hamlet, Act III, Scene IV

        Nick woke to the ringing of his phone.  Persistent ringing.
Even as he listened, his answering machine kicked in, and whoever it
was hung up.  He lay there, exhausted as the machine reset.
Immediately, it began to ring again.
        Curious, Nick dragged himself out of bed and to the phone.
        "Hello?"
        "Nick!  At last!  You sleep like the dead?  Did you know
that?" Natalie giggled.
        Nick shook his head in surprise at her euphoric greeting.
        "Nat?"
        "Yup, it's me.  Nick.  I think I figured it out.  I had an
epiphany at 10:30 this morning.  And I think I know the answer,"
Natalie said happily.
        "Are you okay?" Nick asked, concerned.  She sounded a little
light-headed to him.
        "I'm fine, trust me.  Listen.  I left you some dinner outside
the stairwell door.  So do me a favor, go get it and drink it.  It's
going to be very therapeutic."
        "What did you leave there, Nat?" Nick asked suspicious.  Most
of her concoctions were unpalatable to say the least, and some he was
sure had been lethal.
        "Just do it, okay?"
        "Okay.  Then what?"
        "Call me back on the cell phone," Natalie commanded and hung
up.
        Nick scratching his head, trotted down the stairs and padded
across the floor to the stairwell door.  He opened it and found a
silver thermos sitting beside the door wrapped up with a red
ribbon.  Laughing for the first time in days, Nick picked it up and
walked back into the loft.
        He opened it curiously, and went up like dry tinder at the
scent.  It was blood.  Natalie's blood.  And it was warm...
        His hands tightened convulsively around the thermos.  He shook
uncontrollably as he stared down into the thermos, his eyes glowing,
and his fangs extended.
        He could feel the heat of her blood, and beyond all rational
thought, beyond any resistance, he lifted it to his lips and drank
deeply.  The blood was so fresh from Natalie's veins, that it was if
he was enveloped in her, and knew her very soul--her thoughts, her
dreams, her hopes, her wishes.  He knew Natalie in ways he'd never
dreamed of.  He savored each drop as it slid across his tongue and
down his throat.  Nick drank all of it, in a single breath, and licked
the thermos mouth to get every last drop.  He *needed* it.
        And he was swept away in a firestorm of emotional and physical
sensation.  The intensity of the experience invoked the memories that
had started it all, bringing them to his mind vividly.  Once again he
relived that night long ago in France.  Only this time he lived it as
a vampire.  The combination of her blood and his mortal memories of
loving her under a starry sky drove him to his knees in wild ecstasy,
as he lived it again.  He touched her, breathed in her fragrance,
kissed her, knew her, and tasted her blood--her sweet, sweet blood.
Need and desire bloomed and grew to envelope him completely as, at
last, he reached the pinnacle, sated in sensation and climaxed.
        Nick cried out, and threw his arms wide as the vampire
shuddered in ecstasy at the fulfillment of its need for blood.  And
then he collapsed to the floor, quivering from the experience.
        Silence reigned in the loft, as Nick lay there sated and
exhausted, yet more content than he could remember ever being.  Never
before had he experienced anything like it.  Never.
        The thermos fell from his nerveless hand and rolled across the
floor, making a tinny sound.
        For timeless minutes he lay there, unable to move.  Finally,
the flood of feeling began to wash away, like the tide upon the
seashore.  It washed gently across him, then receded, to return again
and again in fainter and fainter echoes, until it vanished into
memory.
        Nick began to breathe again, his chest rising and falling with
each shuddering breath.  His fingers and toes began to check in,
tingling almost painfully.  He felt exhausted, and yet invigorated.
The strain that had gnawed at him since his memories had returned
was gone.  A faint echo fading away into nothing.
        He felt still and calm, like deep waters with gentle ripples
decorating the surface of a glassy lake.  Peace tapped into his heart.
Nick felt an incredible lassitude sweeping over him.
        He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling with calm,
blue eyes.  More minutes passed, and his thought processes began to
function again, and tears seeped from Nick's eyes once again as he
realized what Natalie had given him.  She'd given him her heart, her
thoughts, everything.  He knew what she felt.  He knew Natalie.  Her
hopes, her love...
        He'd never truly explained to her about the blood, or the
emotional connection that it brought.  Each sip was filled with their
life, knowledge and emotions, making him want to drink more deeply,
know them more intimately.  The desire to know someone like that was
almost impossible to resist.  Now he had tasted Natalie.  Sipped from
her soul, drunk from her well. Tasted her in the most intimate manner
possible.  He had known her heart.  Her love and optimism surrounded
him like warm summer day.  Nick felt complete.
        Natalie.  She was so beautiful.  Beautiful inside and outside.
Natalie.  No one had ever known her like he did.  Her words returned
to his conscious memory like gentle rain.  She wanted Nick to call
her.
        He couldn't do that lying here on the floor, and yet he had no
desire to move.  He felt so peaceful that he never wanted to move.
        Reluctantly, at last, he turned his head and located the
phone.  It hadn't moved.  Nothing had changed in the loft, and yet he
felt as if he'd been through an earthquake.  Everything had changed.
Everything.
        He rolled up on his side and unsteadily got to his feet and
padded across the room to collapse on the couch.  He lay there for a
while, quiet and calm, then finally he picked up the phone and dialed
Natalie's cell phone number.
        Natalie answered before it had even completed a ring.
        "Hello?  Nick, is that you?" she asked in a voice that
quavered just slightly.
        "Natalie," Nick said quietly.
        She breathed deeply, at the timbre of his voice, and asked
almost timidly, "How are you feeling?"
        Nick smiled, honestly amused.  Earlier she'd called
euphorically high and demanded obedience to her commands, believing it
would work.  Now she was nervous and scared, afraid of his reaction.
He loved the combination of courageous Dr. Lambert and shy Natalie.
        "Natalie," he said again, "that was a very dangerous thing you
did, you know.  But I think it worked.  I feel...well, I feel a lot
better.  Thank you."
        "Oh, thank God," Natalie breathed in relief.
        "Did you have any idea what that would do to me?" Nick asked
softly.
        "Well, not in exact minute detail, but in scientific terms, I
was hoping it would allow you to complete the natural cycle," Natalie
said.  "And I take it, that it did?"
        "It sure as hell did something to me.  It was...well, never
mind what it was," Nick retorted.
        "Good, huh?" Natalie asked, laughing.
        Nick laughed with her, genuinely at ease.  "Yeah, it
was...good.  Really good."
        "You going to tell me about it?"
        "No.  I think I've humiliated myself enough this week, thank
you."
        "Ah, come on?" Natalie wheedled, wanting to know both for her
own curiosity, and greedy for scientific knowledge.
        "Nat," Nick said a little bit embarrassed.
        "Well, okay, then, let's just cover the basics.  Do you think
you can be in the same room with me now?"
        Nick thought about it for a moment.  There was still some
danger for Natalie, but it was a different kind now.  "Yeah, I think
so, but you should understand, Natalie, that it is still dangerous."
        The seriousness of his tone got through to her.  "How
dangerous?" Natalie asked.
        "It's not exactly something I know how to say...," Nick
hesitated.
        "Well, considering what our last conversation covered, this
ought to be a piece of cake, Nick," Natalie said acerbically.
        Nick laughed, again.  "You're right.  I'm just not comfortable
talking about these things, Nat, you know that."
        "Boy, do I ever.  So what's the problem?"
        Nick sighed.  "The problem is, now I know what your blood
tastes like, Nat.  A vampire can...sip from someone, but it still ends
up being fatal to the..."
        "...sip-ee?" Natalie finished.
        "Yeah.  It's an addiction, an escalating addiction.  I
know I didn't take your blood directly from you, but it hadn't been
out of your veins more than what?  Five, ten minutes, maybe?" Nick
guessed.
        "About seven," Natalie confirmed.
        "Well, anyway, considering how you packaged it, it was so damn
near like taking it from you, that the temptation may be a lot
stronger than it has been in the past.  You should know that."
        Natalie thought about what he'd said, rather carefully.
"Okay, first of all, you're telling me that you can restrain yourself
and not kill somebody right away.  Right?"
        "Yeah," Nick admitted shifting around uneasily.
        "I wish you'd told me that yesterday, I could have figured
this out a lot sooner, Nick," Natalie complained.
        "Yesterday, Nat, I wasn't thinking rationally.  Well,
actually, I wasn't even thinking.  How'd you expect me to remember
this?" Nick retorted.  "I haven't even done it since the 1500's, and I
seriously doubt I could do it now.  I don't have the control anymore."
        Natalie was momentarily diverted by his reply.  "What do you
mean, you don't have the control?"
        "Because," Nick said patiently, "I don't drink human blood
anymore, and when I get a whiff of it, take a sip, so to speak,
well,...you know, I sort of go off the deep end.  I can't stop..."
        "Oh.  Well, that makes sense, I guess.  After all, it is like
alcoholism.   And people do binge if they fall off the wagon."
        "Yeah, but they don't kill, when they do," Nick said bitterly.
        "Nick, stop that!  We are not going there today.  There are
plenty of humans who have done a lot worse than you.  They did it for
fun, not to live."
        "I did it for fun, too...," Nick said wistfully.
        Natalie took a deep breath.  Trust Nick, she thought, to go
into severe angst mode as soon as he got two rational thoughts
together in his head.  "Well, never mind about that.  You've changed.
Whatever you may want, you don't go around doing it.  You've made a
conscious decision to overcome your nature, and that counts for a hell
of a lot.  Now, back to the issue at hand...you didn't sip from me
directly, so how dangerous is it?"
        Nick shook his head as he picked up the remote and sent a
signal to pull the metal shutters up.
        "I don't know.  I've never been in this situation before, Nat.
But I'll probably feel a little more temptation--maybe a lot
actually--and my resistance, right now, is not exactly 100 percent."
        Natalie thought some more, and then smiled.  "So, are you
saying that you've thought about it before?  Wanted my blood before?
Is this like saying you're attracted to me, Nick?"
        "Nat," Nick said in frustration, "I'm always attracted to
blood!"
        "Yeah, but we're talking about mine in particular.  You been
thinking about it?"
        Nick was silent for a long time, and then finally said slowly,
"I've always wanted to know what you taste like, Nat.  Always."
        Natalie couldn't help herself, "And how do I taste?" she asked
before she chickened out.
        "Beautiful...," Nick said softly, so softly, she had to strain
to hear.
        Natalie swallowed, feeling something bloom within her.  "Oh."
        Silence stretched for long moments and then Natalie cleared
her throat.
        "Um, I'm just around the corner.  Can I come up, and check you
out, and see if you're fit for duty?"
        Nick stared out into the night through the loft's windows.  He
felt fear rush through him at the thought of Natalie being in the
loft, but he had to know.  And so did she.
        "Yeah.  But don't do anything rash.  Let's take this slow."
        "Okay.  I'll be there in a minute."  And Natalie hung up.
        Nick stared at the phone, and wondered if he wasn't in over
his head with the good Doctor.  He lay his head back on the sofa and
waited with fear in his heart.

        The elevator began to move, grinding its way up to the loft
and Nick stood and retreated to the far corner, just to be safe.
        Natalie opened the door and stepped in.  She stared at Nick
across the room.  Nick stared back.
        "You look good, Nick," Natalie said finally, with a small
smiled crossing her face.
        "Thanks," Nick managed.  He looked down, and would have
blushed if he could have.  All he was wearing were his black silk
pajama bottoms.  "Uh, sorry.  I haven't been myself, lately.  Let me
go find a robe."
        Natalie bit down on her tongue, and didn't say anything.  But
she did wish he would forget the robe.  The last time she'd seen his
chest had been...well, in France, in the 13th Century, to be exact.
And it was a very nice looking one.  But she let him go.
        Nick, for all his suavity and worldly airs, was at heart a very
modest man.  He padded up the stairs and vanished into his room.
Moments later, he returned wearing his robe.
        He came down the stairs and advanced to the couch.  Natalie
with a smile moved to the dining room table.
        "How do you feel?" Natalie asked.
        An odd look crossed his face, making her momentarily nervous.
"I feel good, Natalie.  I don't feel the vampire, well, no more than
normal, that is.  The hunger is gone."
        Natalie moved to the end of the couch.  Nick swallowed but
stood his ground.
        "Good enough for me to touch you?" she asked.
        Nick thought about it, and then held out his hand to her.
        Slowly Natalie took it, and his hand slowly tightened over
hers.
        Natalie smiled down at their clasped hands through tears.  She
couldn't help but notice that he was still wearing the ring--her ring.
Nick slowly, inexorably, drew her closer, and then lifted her hand to
his lips.  He kissed her hand softly, and closed his eyes and inhaled.
        "You smell like ginger and oranges," he whispered.
        Natalie stared at him amazed.  "Really?"
        He sniffed again, "and a little chocolate, too, I think."
        "No!  You're pulling my leg!" Natalie said with a laugh.
        Nick just smiled and pulled her into his arms and hugged her
tightly.  Then he kissed her cheek.  "Thank you, Natalie.  Thank you
for giving me my life back."
        "Well, I told you I wasn't going to let you go, not without a
fight.  Not now," Natalie said against the soft brocade and velvet
lapel of his robe.
        "I know..." Nick rubbed her back and held her, content.  He
felt a desire bubbling inside him and slowly smoothed the hair back
from her neck. He watched her pulse and unconsciously licked his lips.
He wanted to taste her--needed to taste her.  He closed his eyes
against it and pushed the desire to the back of his mind.  He settled
for just holding Natalie, inhaling her scent, and listening to the
beckoning call of her soul and blood.
        The phone rang, interrupting them.  Nick sighed and Natalie
let go of him.  He rolled his eyes at her and reached across the couch
and picked it up.
        "Knight."
        "Nicky, boy.  You need to get down here pronto," Schanke said.
"We've got developments on this cop-killer, and you're late.  Please
tell me you're going to be here soon.  Cohen is looking for you.
Every five minutes she comes by, sort of like a shark circling the
guppy, ya know."
        Nick laughed at that.  "I know I'm late, Schanke," Nick said
as he stroked Natalie's hair. "I had rather a bad day."
        "Well, I know it hasn't been a bed of roses for you lately,
but Cohen's gonna be calling you herself if you don't get here, she's
got something that's bothering her.  She told me to tell you to be
here by 8:30, so can you get here, like, soon?"
        "Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can."
        "Oh, and Nick," Schanke hesitated, "are you having problems
with Natalie?  I don't mean to pry, but well, I just kept thinking
about how you were acting last night, all day, and if there's
something I can do to help, well, I'd like to.  I know this whole
thing has been really hard, but..."
        "Schanke," Nick interrupted.  "Everything is fine.  We just
needed some time to work some stuff out.  Trust me."
        Schanke asked suspiciously, "You're sure?  I mean, you sure
didn't act like things were fine."
        Nick sighed,  "They're fine.  Here I'll prove it to you. Say
hello to Natalie."
        He held the phone out to Natalie, and laughing, she took it.
"Hi, Schanke."
        "Nat, oh, good.  You two are talking.  I was, well, I
was...uh, never mind.  I'll see you guys soon, okay?"
        "Sure, Schanke.  We'll be there shortly," Natalie said and
Schanke hung up.
        Natalie handed the phone back to Nick, who tossed it on the
couch.  He hugged her again, and kissed her softly on the forehead.
"I guess I'd better get dressed."
        "Yeah.  I don't think brocade is really appropriate for
interrogations," Natalie said as she pulled away, reluctantly.
        "Oh?" Nick asked disappointed.  "It was all the rage in the
1860's."
        Natalie smiled.  "I'm sure it was, but you've got to move with
the times.  And brocade is just...out."
        Nick smiled and caressed her face with his hand.  "Then I
guess I'd better change.  I'll see you later?"
        "You can count on it," Natalie said.  She headed for the door,
and Nick resisted calling her back.  He wanted her to stay.  He wanted
to tell the world to go to hell, but he let her go.
        She stopped at the door and turned back.  "So, did you feel a
need to sip?"
        Nick looked at her with look she had little difficulty
interpreting.  "Yeah, but I wanted to hold you more."
        Natalie smiled, and reluctantly left.



Chapter 12

So let a man accept his destiny
  -- Iphigenia in Tauris

        Nick drove through Toronto, soothed by the lights sliding over
the car at constant intervals.  The moon shone down upon him with
kindly light.  He felt ready, at last, to integrate himself back into
his mortal life.
        But first, he had to see Janette.  He walked into the pounding
music of the Raven, and more through the link that entwined them, than
visual sight, he made his way unerringly to her side.
        Janette looked up at him from her accounting books as he
slipped into the seat across from her.  "Nicolas, your sun glasses are
such a--fashion statement."
        Nick took off his glasses and smiled at her.  "You left before
I woke," he said, getting to the point.
        "Yes, you do sleep like the dead, mon cher.  One can't wait
forever, you know," Janette replied calmly, inspecting him closely.
        "I wanted to thank you for your help.  It...it meant a lot to
me.  I don't know what I'd do without you, Janette," Nick said as he
covered her hand with his.
        She glanced at his hand, and then smiled into his eyes.
"I don't know either, Nicolas," then dropping her voice down, she
added teasingly, "let's hope you don't have to find out."
        "I mean it, Janette.  I don't think I could have gotten
through the day without you."
        "You're welcome, and I'm sure I can find a way for you to pay
me back, eh?"
        Nick laughed.  "What do want, my credit card?"
        Janette smiled, "No, something much more personal, Nicolas.
Much more personal...,"  She looked significantly at his hand still
covering hers.
        Nick looked at it, too.  Then back at her, and smiled. "Within
reason, Janette."
        She pouted and then said more seriously.  "You are looking
more like yourself, tonight.  Have you solved your problem?"
        "Yes.  Thanks to Natalie."
        Janette raised an eyebrow and gently slid her hand from under
his.  "Ah, the wonders of science."
        "Well, not exactly, but still enough of a miracle for me,"
Nick said.
        "Yes, now if they could only make these accounts add up,
properly," Janette sighed.
        Nick smiled at her.  "Janette?"
        "Yes?"
        He reached across and kissed her on the lips.  "I'm sure
you'll figure it out."
        She leaned back and wrinkled her nose at him as he stood.
        "Thanks," he said again softly, and putting on his sunglasses,
left.
        Janette shook her head as she watched him wade through the
throng and disappear out the door.
        "I hope she is worth it, Nicolas."

        Nick glanced at his watch as he headed for the precinct,
making sure he would get there before Cohen's deadline.  Seeing he
still had plenty of time he turned his mind to his last unresolved
problem.
        He needed to determine what damage the last twenty-four hours
had done in other circles.  He turned the radio on, searching for the
silky voice of his Master.  LaCroix, he knew, tuned into one frequency
only, i.e., Nicolas de Brabant, knight errant, crusader, and vampire
homicide cop.  Based on Nick's moods and actions, LaCroix would send
out over the airwaves a monologue designed to pour salt in his wounds,
and make him see the error of his ways.
        Nick listened not only out of perverse joy in torturing
himself, but as a barometer to determine LaCroix' mood and attitude.
LaCroix used the airwaves to batter at Nick's quest, but he had never
realized how much his nightly monologue helped Nick to avoid the
pitfalls LaCroix threw in front of him.  LaCroix gave away more than
he intended, and Nick took advantage where he could.  The twentieth
century's technological advances had at last given him a weapon in the
age-old war he and LaCroix fought.  And LaCroix hadn't figured it out.
Yet.  Nick tried very hard to keep it that way.
        Tonight, he wanted to know if LaCroix had deciphered the
events that had pushed Nick over the edge.  Much more precisely, did
he know that Natalie had pushed through the bounds of this life to
touch him in his mortal life so long ago?  Second, did he know that
Nick had literally been caught between the hunt and the kill?  And
lastly, did he know what Natalie had done to solve his problem?
        Nick was concerned that if LaCroix knew, he could very easily
change the rules of the engagement, and use Natalie to bring Nick back
to what LaCroix deemed "more appropriate behavior."  And it was very
possible he knew, for LaCroix had left more than one lesson out of
those he'd taught Nick.  LaCroix loved control.  And he *loved*
controlling Nick.
        Nick was surprised to hear a polka song belting out of the
speakers, so he peered at the dial, and remembered that Schanke had in
annoyance changed the setting last time he'd been in the car.  The night
of the bombing.
        "Nick!" he had said, disgusted, "do we have to listen to this
disgusting drivel.  That guy is soooo weird.  It's like self-inflicted
torture or something.  He's sick!  And you are, too, to listen to him!"
        Nick had merely smiled as Schanke had searched the dial for
something more to his liking.  LaCroix was, after all, an acquired
taste.
        Nick reached out and pushed the button, returning the radio to
its accustomed station.
        The anguished tones of Carmina Burana's Fortuna Imperatrix
Mundi spilled out into the car with impassioned intensity.  Nick
waited impassively for it's completion.  He already didn't like the
tone of tonight's show.

        "'O Fortuna,
          velut luna,
        statu variabilis,'"

 LaCroix quoted softly, menacingly,

        "'semper crescia
          aut decrescia;
        vita detestabilis
          nunc obdurat
          et tunc curat
        ludo mentis aciem,
          egestatem,
          potestatem
          dissolvit ut glaciem.'"

        Nick rolled his eyes, as he drove down quiet streets.  When
LaCroix quoted Latin, you *knew* he was *not* in a good mood.  It was
not a good sign.  He often started spouting Latin just before he
lowered the boom.  LaCroix seemed to slip into his "General" mode, a
relic from his mortal life, when he was most angry, and therefore,
his most dangerous.  The fact that he was talking about fortune waxing
and waning as the moon was ominous.
        Nick remembered the insistence with which LaCroix had taught
him Latin.  He hadn't realized it then, that LaCroix liked to dole out
punishment in Latin.  If he'd known he wouldn't have learned it.  But
the thought was brushed away as LaCroix continued, switching to
English.

      "'Detestable life,
          first thou mistreat us,
          and then, whimsically,
        thou heedest our desires.
          As the sun melts the ice,
          so dost thou dissolve
        both poverty and power.
          Monstrous and empty fate,
        thou, turning wheel,
          art mean,...

          Veiled
          in obscurity,
        thou dost attack
          me also.
          To thy cruel pleasure
        I bare my back....

          At this hour,
          therefore, let us
        pluck the strings without delay.
          Let us mourn
          together,
        for fate *crushes* the brave.'"

        The emphasis he subtly laid on the words made Nick shift
uneasily in his seat.

        "Luck.  Fortune.  Karma.  So many names for the goddess of
fate.  One day you are poised to win the game, standing on the
pinnacle of victory, the next...you are thrown down and crushed
beneath her feet.  Each day you kick against fate, trying to make life
as *you* wish it.  Not as it is.  How foolishly you try to mold it to
*your* pleasure.  And you cannot.  It's like trying to live...a fairy
tale.  Isn't it?"  LaCroix spit out the words.
        "Fairy tales... Have you noticed that they *don't* have happy
endings, contrary to certain animated movies?  You wish for a
fairy-tale ending, a happy ever after, isn't that true?  And then cry
because you get it!  What did you think you'd get?  Not happy ever
after, but fate, destiny.  Your destiny!  Fate *will* destroy all you
seek after--because you do not seek after your true nature.  You seek
for that which you are not.  Don't you?
        "Let us consider a fairy tale then, shall we?  The Little
Mermaid, perhaps.  She *loved* a mortal," LaCroix said with a sneer,
"so she asked to be one.  Have you read the original?  She sought to
be what she was not, and could never be.  She desired to have legs
instead of fins.  She thought he would love her, then.  So she made a
bargain and traded her fins for legs.  Legs that made each step as
painful as walking on knives.  The mermaid sacrificed all for her
mortal love.  She sacrificed all for what she thought she wanted.
All.  Friends, family, her *heritage*!
        "All.  But in the end it was to no avail, for he did not want
her, and chose another.  The mermaid died a miserable, execrable death
and turned into sea foam upon the shore.
        "She was crushed beneath her desires to be what she was not.
How often have you, my children, been crushed because you try to be
what you are NOT."
        Nick, sitting at a light, closed his eyes at the direct
attack.
        "More often than I care to count," Nick muttered quietly.  A
honking horn made him open his eyes to a green light.  He put the car
in gear and moved forward as LaCroix continued.
        "She made a bargain and lost, as all do, who seek for some
magical cure for their ills.  Whether it is a magic that transforms
your shape, or a special potion tied up with a red ribbon, a magical
journey, or even science, it makes no difference.  It is an illusion.
        "Fate is whimsical, and will take her justice where she will.
And she will crush you.  It is inevitable, as long as you try to be
what you are not, and cannot ever, ever be...  Agree or disagree.
Shall we discuss."
        Nick turned off the radio.  It was worse than he thought.
LaCroix had read his thoughts as if he were a clear glass, and knew
what had happened.  His analogy was clear and direct, and so was his
anger.  Nick sighed.  It would seem that LaCroix was yet one more item
on tonight's slate.  How the hell could he appease LaCroix?  And more
important, what would LaCroix do to Natalie?
        LaCroix had stayed out of Nick's life more or less, ever since
his direct attempt to destroy Nick's life had failed.  He was taking
an indirect path these days, as he opted to use the velvet glove.
Perhaps, Nick thought, he believed the soft word would weaken where the
solid blow could not.  Nick could only hope that he wouldn't decide to
bring out the iron fist--not now.  For it would not fall on Nick, but
rather on Natalie.  LaCroix would mete out what punishment he thought
Nick deserved for daring to love a mortal, but he would make Nick
suffer as much as possible in the process.  LaCroix savored the
anticipation, and the torture, as much as the actual punishment.
LaCroix, in his own way, was also predictable.
        He would have to warn Natalie, and watch over her carefully.
He was not going to lose her to LaCroix' machinations.
        On that thought, Nick turned into the precinct parking lot,
and put LaCroix on the back burner.  He had to deal with the loose
ends in Nick Knight's life first.



Chapter 13

I am to testify?  Why so I will.
  -- Bellarion, Chapter 13

        Nick had barely made it to his desk where Schanke was talking
on Nick's phone, and sitting at Nick's desk writing on a torn piece of
paper when Cohen called to him from her door.
        "Knight," she commanded in a neutral tone and jerked her head,
indicating he was wanted in her office now.  She disappeared and Nick
with a sigh, followed her in.
        "Shut the door," she said, in more kindly tones.
        Nick shut the door and sat down.
        "How are you feeling, Detective?" Cohen asked, allowing
concern to show on her usually impassive face.
        "I'm doing better, Captain.  I probably shouldn't have come in
yesterday.  It was pretty rocky.  But I worked some stuff out today,
so...," Nick shrugged, "I'm okay."
        "I'm glad to hear that, Nick, I've been concerned about you.
If you need to take some more time to deal with this, I want you to.
        "Thanks, Captain," Nick said.
        "However, I'm afraid I've some bad news for you."
        Nick felt his back muscles tense.
        "The press has made some very strong demands to the
Commissioner's office, and you and Dr. Lambert have a press conference
in," Amanda Cohen checked her watch, "ninety minutes."
        "What?" Nick asked, astonished.
        "Commissioner Vetter's been very...forceful.  I'm sorry."
        Nick sighed and sank back in his chair, grateful that it was
tonight and not last night.  "It's okay.  I think I can handle it.  I
just hope Natalie can, too."
        "I've talked with Dr. Lambert, and she seemed okay with it.
It's being held at the Commissioner's office.  They're expecting you
to be there thirty minutes prior for some briefing, set up, and...,"
she paused delicately, "makeup."
        Nick made a face.  "Makeup?" he asked, as he ran his hand
through his hair in distress.
        "I'm sorry, but you will be on TV and they want you to have
a little color in your face..." Cohen paused as Nick suddenly started
to laugh.
        "Well, that will be a first, won't it?" Nick laughed.  And
Cohen smiled broadly as she looked at her Nick's pale complexion.
        "I guess it will," she agreed.  "Anyway, you're excused from
your regular duties.  I don't want you to overdo it, so it's your
choice whether you return to work or go home after the press
conference," Cohen said becoming more serious.
        "Thanks, Captain," Nick said.
        "Have you seen Dr. Mitchell, Nick?" Cohen asked, referring to
the department shrink.
        Nick shook his head.  "No, I didn't think it was necessary."
        "I'd like you to spend some time with him.  I'm expecting
everyone who was at the site to spend at least one session with him.
This is far more traumatic than most people realize.  We lost a lot of
good people there.   Friends and colleagues...," Cohen trailed off.
        "Captain?"
        Cohen looked at him and shook her head sadly.  "In fact, I've
informed everyone that if they have problems they should see
Mitchell.  I think that includes me.
        "That is all, Detective," Cohen said, dismissing Nick.
        "Thanks, Captain," Nick said and left.

        "Well, what'd Cohen want?" Schanke asked.  He'd moved to his
own desk, and was working his way through a sticky bun.
        Nick wrinkled his nose slightly.  "I've got a press conference
to go to in ninety minutes down at the Commissioner's office," he
said.
        "Glad it's you, pal, and not me," Schanke said.  "Man, I don't
think I could talk about it again.  They already got me several times.
They got me right after it happened, during the rescue, after the
rescue, and as you know--at home.  Myra is still having fits about
that.  She watched every news broadcast terrified they'd show her in
those pink monstrosities she calls curlers.  I don't know why she
puts herself through all the that torture."
        "They say it's for us, Schank."
        "Well if they do, we're the ones who pay for it.  It is really
scary to see all the contraptions Myra has in the bathroom, Nick.
        Nick laughed at that and sat down.
        "Anyway," Schanke continued after taking another bite, "this
sounds like a regular interrogation, man."
        "Yeah," Nick agreed, "it does."
        Nick's phone rang, interrupting them.  Nick picked it up,
impatiently.
        "Knight."
        "Oh, Nick.  You're there," Natalie said.  "Did you hear we
have to do the press conference tonight?"
        "I heard," Nick said grimly.
        "I'm really not happy about this.  If I'd known, I would have
worn my coral suit, and done my hair.  But hell, why would they tell
me far enough in advance so I can look decent," Natalie complained.
        "Look at it this way," Nick said, "you'll look natural.  If
they don't like it, they can turn it off.  At least, you don't have to
worry about them trying to get some color in your cheeks."
        Natalie laughed at that.  "NO!  Did Cohen say that?"
        "Yeah," Nick said disgusted, "they want to do make-up and get
some color on me.  Can you imagine?"
        "Not really, but I guess seeing will be believing.  Hey, the
reason I called is I thought we could go down together.  Sort of
fortify each other for this.  How about it?"
        "Sure," Nick said agreeably.  "I'll be by and pick you up in
fifteen minutes."
        "Great.  See you.  And by the way, it's great having you back,
Nick."
        Nick smiled at the sudden warmth in her voice.  "It's great to
be back."
        He hung up and found Schanke regarding him suspiciously.
        "So, like, where you been?"
        Nick shook his head.  "Nowhere, Schank.  I've just been...a
little shell-shocked, or something."
        "Delayed stress syndrome, you mean?"
        "Huh?"
        "They call it delayed stress syndrome, Nick.  You know, when
you go berserk after a traumatic event.  It hasn't been shell-shock
since World War II.  Jeez, where you been, man?"
        "Lost in space?" Nick parried, and got up.  "See you later,
Schank.  Cohen told me to take the rest of the night off if the press
conference gets too intense, but I expect I'll be back."
        "Good, cuz I've got some leads that I want you to take a look
at on this mad cop-killer of ours.  The task force is really pushing
for results."
        "Okay," Nick said, ran his hand through his hair in
frustration, and then left.
        Schanke watched  him go, glad it was Nick in the hot seat, and
not him.

        Natalie sat in the plush chair in the small conference room,
swinging her crossed leg nervously.  Her heart was beating more
rapidly than normal.
        Nick stared out the window and listened to her heartbeat, and
struggled to ignore the desire to synchronize with it.  It was as he
had feared.  He wanted her more now that he had tasted her blood.  He
wanted Natalie, but then he always had.  But it was not a line of
reasoning worth pursuing, he couldn't have her.  He'd made his bed,
and he had to lie in it, for eternity.  He resolutely put it out of
his mind.
        Nick looked at his watch.
        "How long," Natalie asked.
        "Five minutes."
        "I hate this!" Natalie said in frustration.
        "I know, but it'll soon be over."
        "I hope so!"
        The commissioner's secretary walked in to the room.  "We're
ready
for you now," she said and smiled calmly at them.
        Natalie was sure she could smile calmly, too, if it wasn't her
that was going out in front of a bunch of hungry reporters.  It was
scarier than having Nick go after her.  Almost.
        Natalie got up and walked through the door, Nick followed on
her heels down the hall and into a large conference room.  They were
ushered to a table with two microphones.
        The reporters watched them like sharks.  Very hungry sharks.

        Commissioner Vetter stood, and addressed the crowd
soothingly.  "As you know, Detective Knight and Dr. Lambert were
trapped in the rubble following the explosion that occurred on Tuesday
morning at 3:31 a.m.  They were not rescued for almost nine hours, and
the fact that anyone was pulled from that building alive is
a miracle.  The fact that both of them walked away with only minor
injuries is another miracle.  We appreciate the fact that you've given
them a couple of days to cope with the stress and trauma of the
event."  Vetter smiled, something which was a rather rare
occurrence.  "So treat them kindly, they've already had one building
collapse on them this week!"
        Everybody laughed at Vetter's joke, and he retired feeling
he'd set the stage.
        Nick and Nat looked at each other and then the audience.
Hands were raised immediately.  Nick randomly picked a women in red.
He liked red.
        "Could you describe the events leading up to the explosion."
        Nick leaned forward and spoke into the mike, aware of all the
cameras whirring and snapping along with the sound recorders.
        "We were investigating the murder of two officers.  Some of
the evidence at the scene, which I'm not really at liberty to discuss,
led me to the conclusion that the murders were a set-up.  They were
murdered to provide bait for a trap--a trap to kill as many officers
of the law as possible.  I examined the premises and discovered that
there was a video camera sending a signal, indicating the perpetrator
was watching the events.  Based on that information, we decided to
evacuate until we could secure the building.  Most of the people there
were actually leaving the area, when he set off the timers."  Nick's
quiet narrative held the reporters spellbound.
        "Once I realized that the timers were counting down, I yelled
for everybody to run.  We didn't know how much time we had--obviously
it wasn't enough." Nick paused and looked at Natalie, "Dr. Lambert and
I were already at the stairwell," he lied, "and ran up the stairs,
others were not far behind.  In fact, I understand that most were
found near or in the bottom of the stairwell."
        Natalie listened without blinking an eye at his lie.  After
all, it was better than admitting he'd blown past everybody at the
speed of sound, or at least what had felt like it.
        "I don't actually remember the explosion, but what I do
remember was being thrown against the wall.  I believe the blast
literally flung us up the last few steps and into the wall.  That is
the last either of us remembered for approximately 40 minutes.  At
that time we found ourselves alive, by some miracle, and began to
wonder how we were going to get out of there."
        He looked out at the audience, and chose another hand.  This
time, it was Josh Broder, his recent trespasser.
        "Detective, Doctor, how much room did you have, and what was
your condition?"
        Natalie let Nick continue.
        "We were in a small triangular space with an I-beam holding
several tons of debris off of us.  At one end, you could actually sit
up, barely.  It was probably about one and half meters tall by two
meters long.  It was a very cramped space--created by the I-beam.  If
we had been anywhere else when that beam came down, we wouldn't be
having this conference," Nick said with a grin.
        Nick chose another hand from the waving sea of them.
        "What kinds of things did you think about while you were
trapped?"
        Nick deferred to Natalie.
        "At first, we dealt with our physical injuries, for instance,
I had a head wound that was bleeding, as well as a concussion.  Nick
was much luckier, and was only scratched and bruised.  Once we worked
through that, we realized no one knew where we were, or if we were
alive.
        "About that time, Nick remembered his cell phone, and it was,
incredibly enough, still working.  When he opened it, and we saw that
green glow, it was the most wonderful feeling.  We had a lifeline to
the outside.  It was amazing how important it was to us to know that
somebody knew we were there, that we were alive.  I'd never been so
glad to hear a dial tone in my life."
        "I have to agree," Nick added, "The I-beam continually slipped
while we were there.  We didn't know if it would hold, or if it was
going to suddenly give way.  We were very conscious of the fact
that we might not live long enough to be rescued."
        Natalie leaned forward to the mike and added, "As for what we
thought about, we spent time evaluating our lives and what was
important to us...and," Natalie added with a smile, "I kept wishing I
could get a drink of water!"
        Natalie pointed to a distinguished man.
        "What would you say," he asked, "was *the* most important
thing you learned while you were trapped?"
        Natalie thought about it for a moment.  "I would have to say,
the most important thing I learned, is how precious each and every
moment of life is.  Life was distilled down to some very simple
facts.  Life is really sacred, and our relationships are the most
important things we have.  Not our possessions, not our jobs, not the
accolades we might achieve--but our relationships.
        "I was also grateful not to be alone.  Knowing you might die
at any minute is really scary, but it was easier because I wasn't
alone.  Every time the I-beam shifted, or debris fell on us, and a lot
did, we held on to each other and hoped it wouldn't get any worse.
That support meant a lot, if I'd been by myself, I'm sure I would have
fallen apart."
        Nick listened to Natalie, struggling to keep the tears from
welling up in his eyes.  Everything else seemed to move to a great
distance.  The people, the cameras, all were suddenly miles away.  He
was conscious only of Natalie and his love for her.
        In the last few days, she'd opened her heart to him, expressed
her love for him, and given him back his sanity through great
self-sacrifice.  She'd been so concerned for him that she would have
sent him to Janette, no matter what it cost her, to see his balance
restored.  And then she'd given him her blood and let him inside her
soul.  And what had he done for her?  Tried to kill her and when she'd
solved his little 'problem', said thank you, and given her a hug and a
kiss.  Not much of a return for Natalie.
        He had been the benefactor, over and over.  Natalie had
received almost nothing in return.  In fact, considering he'd gone
after her, he was astonished she was still even talking to him.  But
she was.  He wished he could give her something more in return.  She
deserved so much more...
        He tuned back in as Natalie completed her speech, and looked
to Nick.
        Nick spoke into the microphone, "I'd have to agree with
Natalie, that it put my life into perspective for me.  Being a cop is
tough.  It's tough mentally and emotionally, and it's really tough on
relationships.  But sitting there waiting for someone to rescue us, I
realized that no job is so important that we should let it interfere
with the people in our lives, or allow the job to come first," Nick
said simply.
        "As Natalie said, nothing is more valuable than our
relationships," Nick glanced unconsciously at Natalie as he spoke,
revealing more than he realized.
        "I, too, was glad I wasn't alone.  I've dealt with a lot of
tough situations in homicide, but I can honestly say that having all
control taken away like that--being completely dependent on the help
of others--was the hardest thing I've ever dealt with."
        The audience was quiet, as if they, too, had forgotten what
life's priorities truly are, and were not sure how they should respond
to such direct honesty.
        "And while we're here, we'd like to take this chance to thank
everybody who helped in the rescue..."

        LaCroix watched the conference, being aired live on the small
TV in his broadcasting booth.  Nothing showed through the impassive
mask on his face as the press conference wound to an end, and
Commissioner Vetter finally concluded the event.  He stared into
space, a faint line marring his forehead.  The way Nicholas has looked
at Natalie had not been lost on him.
        "Well, well, Nicholas," he murmured to himself, "if
relationships are so important, why do you continually toss the most
important one in your life aside?  When will you realize that *I* am
the most important person in your life?  I gave you life, never-ending
life, and yet you continually throw it in my face.  And now, *now*, you
think to put her first."  He shook his head.  "You never learn, do
you, Nicholas?  You never learn..."



Chapter 14

Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.
  -- Much Ado About Nothing, Act IV, Scene I

        Nick walked wearily back into the precinct, feeling tired.
The events of the last few days had left him mentally exhausted, and
even Natalie's miracle cure, could not replace all the sleep he'd lost
fighting his demons.
        He'd dropped Natalie off at the Coroner's building and
wistfully watched her disappear from sight.  In the quiet of the car,
after the conference, he'd once again thanked her for her help, but
knew it was not enough.  Somehow, Nick knew he needed to find a way to
express his feelings to her.  Someway.  Without the vampire intruding.
        He dropped into his chair, and propping his chin on his hand,
stared into space, brooding.  There was so little he could do for her
compared to what she'd done for him.  So very little.  Nick, suddenly,
desperately wanted to do something very special for her.  Show her the
depths of his feelings here and now.  France was a long time ago, in
any kind of relative terms, and he wanted to do something now, to make
up for looking on her as a delicious aperitif, entree, and dessert, all
rolled into one beautiful package.
        Nick sighed.
        Schanke walking up behind him, surveyed him silently. Nick was
so deep in thought, he hadn't noticed him.  He slapped him
energetically on the back, and Nick jumped a couple of inches.
        "So, Nick, I see you survived the conference.  We watched in
on the old black and white in the interrogation room.  You guys really
know how to pull in the ratings, don't you."
        Nick turned and looked up at Schanke.  "Is that envy I hear in
your voice?" Nick asked with a smile.
        "Who, me?" Schanke said as he moved to his desk and sat down to
face Nick.  "You're nuts!"
        "Yeah, well, you're the one who hired an agent when Tawny
Teller did Cop Watch."
        Schanke gave Nick a dirty look.  "That, Nick, was a guy who
didn't know talent when he was buried in it.  I could've taken the
industry by stor..."
        Schanke trailed off as Nick laughed.
        "I'll get you for that," Schanke muttered, turning red around
the ears.  He tried to forget that night.  It had been totally
humiliating that a stupid agent could not see his natural abilities.
        "So, what've you got on this guy who buried me?" Nick asked
leaning forward on his elbows, letting Schanke off the hook.  He
wanted to get into this case.  He needed to think about something
besides Natalie.
        "Well, partner, they got lucky today in their excavation work,
found part of one of the detonators, and, get this, part of that video
camera you spotted.  They are leaving no stone unturned.  Nada! Zip!
Zilch!" Schanke said punctuating with hand signals.
        Nick smiled.  "So?"
        "So, we got most of the serial code on the detonator and the
manufacturer on the camera.  Not bad considering everything was in
that pile of rubble."
        "Tomb, you mean," Nick said soberly.
        "Yeah.  That kid that I took out with me lost his partner."
Schanke stared at his desk for a minute and then looked at Nick.  "It
feels weird to be alive, you know?  Just because you sent me out, I'm
alive, and Haymis is alive because I tagged him to be my buddy for the
trip out.  I feel guilty for surviving, you know?"
        Nick nodded, "Yeah, I know.  It eats at you that because you
were at the right place you survived and the guy next to you didn't.
It doesn't make sense, Schank."
        "I know."
        Both were silent, reflecting on all those who were dead, and
how lucky they were.  Schanke knew he was the luckiest dog alive,
thanks to Nick.  And Nick knew he was lucky, because he'd saved
Natalie.
        Schanke cleared his throat.  "Anyway, you want to help me do
some research and see if we can track down the detonator and maybe get
lucky on who purchased it?"
        "Sure," Nick said, and took the proffered information.
        Before he could begin cross-checking the data with the
database, Cohen materialized by his desk.
        "That was an excellent job you did at the press conference,
Nick," Cohen said.
        Nick looked up at her. "Thanks, Captain."
        Cohen surveyed him closely.  "You look beat, Detective.  Even
though you haven't taken me up on booking off for the night, I still
suggest you make it a short one."
        Nick smiled.  "Thanks, I might just do that.  But I wanted to
help Schanke get started on these leads.  I want to catch this guy,
Captain."
        Cohen looked at Nick and Schanke. "You may be a little too
close to this, gentlemen, to do an unbiased investigation."
        "But, Captain," Schanke asked, "do you think anybody on the
task force or anybody in the whole Metro Police Force, for that
matter, could be unbiased?"
        Cohen thought about it for a moment.  "Probably not,
Detective.  Nevertheless, I expect you to do your best to be thorough
and unbiased so that we can catch this man and stop him before he does
anything else."
        "We'll dot every 'i' and cross every 't'," Schanke swore, and
crossed his heart.
        Cohen smiled at his gesture.  "I'm sure you will, gentlemen,"
and left.
        Nick and Schanke looked at each other. Then they got to work
searching the databases for information on manufacturers.  The work
was time consuming, and somewhat boring, but Nick worked at it quickly
and efficiently, grateful for the distraction.
        Schanke muttered to himself and worked his way through two
souvlakis and a cup of coffee, while he searched.
        It seemed only moments later, but in reality it had been about
an hour, when Nick suddenly felt a prickling in his spine.  He
stiffened and became absolutely still.  Then slowly he swiveled his
chair around and looked behind him.
        LaCroix stood there in the hallway beyond the bullpen.  His
face was a mask.  No emotion penetrated his impassive look.  Nick
instinctively looked at Schanke and then back at LaCroix.  Only he was
no longer there.  The hallway was empty and silent.
        Nick felt the summons in his mind.  LaCroix would be at the
loft, and he didn't want to be kept waiting.  Nick felt a cold chill
trickle down his back.  He toes suddenly felt itchy and his hands were
clammy.
        The press conference.
        Nick closed his eyes.  On top of the events in the past few
days, he'd expressed his friendship for Natalie at the press
conference, however obliquely.  LaCroix, no doubt, like the rest of
Toronto must have tuned in.  Nick began to wonder if his brain was
still there.  He should have known that such a statement would send
LaCroix into rage.  He did not like being number two in Nick's life.
At all.
        Nick listened to the whisper of LaCroix in his head, like
threads of a spider web, slowly tightening around all his thoughts.
Consuming.  Absorbing.  He couldn't think coherently about anything
else.  LaCroix called him, and he had to go.  He knew that typically
he could ignore such a summons, but not in his present exhausted
condition.
        He knew it, and LaCroix knew it.  If he had to fight LaCroix,
never a pleasant prospect at any time, now was the worst.  He was
depleted in both emotional and physical strength.  He'd never won a
confrontation with his Master.  Never.  Except for once.
        Nick had staked LaCroix and thought he'd destroyed him.  He
had won the battle, but he'd been badly deceived in thinking he'd won
the war.  That single victory had cost him much since LaCroix'
return.
        And yet, tonight, he could not afford to lose, because
Natalie's life was the prize.  He was sure of it.
        "Schanke," Nick said.  "I don't feel very well."
        Schanke looked up at Nick.  He looked at Nick, who suddenly
looked ashen.  "You don't look so good, either."
        "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Nick said dryly.  "I
think I'll go home.  But I have found three good possible matches on
the detonator.  I've sent queries, so we should know something by
tomorrow.  I've left information for the day-team, too."
        "Thanks.  You go home and get some shut-eye," Schanke said,
concerned at Nick's relapse.
        Nick nodded, picked his sun glasses up off the desk and
departed, with fear in his heart.

        Nick walked into the darkened loft and headed straight for the
fridge without giving LaCroix a second glance.  He knew exactly where
he was.  He couldn't help but know it.  LaCroix was radiating at
extreme intensity.  If he'd been a radio station, he'd have exceeded
legal broadcasting wattage limits.  He pulled out a bottle and found a
glass.  Carefully he poured a glass before looking at LaCroix, who
stood by the sofa back table, his eyes glittering.
        "No, I do not care to have any of that swill you drink,"
LaCroix said.
        Nick walked past LaCroix and seated himself in the chair.
"Why don't you have a seat," he said politely.  Nick made himself
comfortable, and calmly sipped his drink.  It had occurred to him
during the drive home that polite civility just might blunt the edge
of LaCroix' anger, and help Nick keep his temper.  So often LaCroix
won because he was able to get under Nick's skin and make him angry.
And once his emotions were in play, Nick tended to react, and react
badly.  Tonight, he could not afford to lose his temper.
        LaCroix stood there simmering for a moment before moving to
the sofa.
        "You wanted to see me?" Nick asked, finally.  He'd discarded
the more inflammatory remarks that flitted through his mind, at
LaCroix' blatant summons.
        LaCroix leaned back and put his arms out along the sofa back.
A small smile perturbed his lips.  "I do so enjoy watching you,
Nicholas.  Your attempts to deflect this conversation are interesting,
but not effective."
        LaCroix idly ran his hand along the soft leather of the couch.
He looked at Nick through eyes that glittered ever so slightly with
suppressed emotion, and his lips thinned as he let a facsimile of a
smile cross his face.
        "Yes, I wanted to see you.  What a quaint way of putting it.
I think, Nicholas, that you owe me a debt.  You have overstepped the
bounds of what I will allow.  This relationship with Dr. Lambert is at
an end."
        "Oh?" Nick said mildly, swirling his drink and then sipping.
He didn't bother to look at LaCroix.  He was well acquainted with this
particular mood.  It typically ended with Nick being destroyed in some
way; emotionally, usually.  LaCroix loved leaving him devastated.
Nick felt fear somewhere deep inside him, but shut it down.  He could
not allow his emotions to sway or rule him.  Only logic could get him
through this.
        "What's wrong with my relationship with Natalie?" Nick
inquired, seeking ammunition.
        "You know very well what's wrong, Nicholas," LaCroix said in
steely tones.  "You love her.  Don't deny it.  And she loves you.  So
much so, in fact, that she has *apparently* achieved the impossible!"
LaCroix stopped, incensed at the idea that somebody, anybody, could
best him.
        "And what has she achieved?" Nick asked coldly, looking at
LaCroix boldly and meeting his angry eyes.
        "Don't play games with me, Nicholas," LaCroix said as his hand
clenched slowly on the leather of the sofa.  "She managed to somehow
travel through time..." he spat out the word, "...and consummated your
relation in a way that is not possible for a vampire."
        Nick looked at LaCroix and smiled.  "Don't mince words,
LaCroix.  Don't you mean, we made love?"
        LaCroix stared at Nick narrowly and ripped the leather sofa
with his fingers in his anger.
        "Are you sure it isn't just my fantasy?" Nick continued
between sips of the salty blood.  It slowly renewed him, giving him
strength for the duel.  "Don't you think that this is a little beyond
the realm of what is possible?"
        "Don't waste your time, Nicholas!  I have read your mind and
heart.  I know what happened!"
        "Then, *if* it happened, don't you think it might be a little
dangerous to interfere?  After all, God made this possible.  Do you
really want to take *Him* on?" Nick asked politely.  He struggled to
keep his fist from clenching around his glass.  He was feeling a
desire to throttle LaCroix.
        LaCroix sneered.  "God?  If he had anything to do with it, I
doubt he'll interfere now.  If he exists, which I seriously doubt, he's
never interfered in my plans before, and now would *not* be a good
time to start."
        Nick raised an eyebrow.  "Are you sure you want to take that
risk?  The consequences might not be what you expect.  And somehow I
don't think you could defeat God.  And for the first time in 800
years, I'd be on fighting on his side."
        "You *owe* me, Nicholas.  You owe me for Fleur!  And I will
take payment.  Dr Lambert's life for Fleur's," LaCroix said in iron
tones.
        "And I've paid," Nick stated flatly.  "All my life I've paid.
What about Alyssa?  What about Sylvaine?  You have even killed mortals
just for being my friends.  What about Mei?  You murdered her just for
helping me. And Emily?  You thought it would be poetic justice if I
killed her.  You made sure that even when I let her live, there was no
hope of love between us.  Every single time I've even thought about
loving a mortal woman, you've been right there making policy.
Directing my life.  Well, it's my life, and I think the debt is paid.
You knew damn well I loved Natalie when you met her at Azure.  And you
found it more interesting to let her live, knowing I would keep my
distance.  You find this a more interesting solution, don't you?  You
prefer to watch me suffer.  I'm tired of living my life in your
torture rack, LaCroix.  And I'm not playing the game.  Not this time."
        LaCroix looked Nick up and down, like he was some new kind of
vermin.  "And what makes you think you can stop me?"
        "We wouldn't even be having this conversation if it wasn't for
Natalie.  She saved my sanity today.  She did.  Not you.  Natalie."
        "That is utter rubbish.  All that would have happened is that
you would have taken her blood, taken her to the ultimate sexual
fulfillment, and she would have died happily in your arms."
        "No.  I would have walked into the sun first.  Or left," Nick
said flatly.
        "I don't think so.  You don't have the courage.  You are a
coward.  You love your life too much to ever do that.  You'd kill her
and then wallow in misery for fifty or sixty years, and then we'd move
on," LaCroix said disagreeably.  "And you love your precious Doctor
too much to leave her for her sake.  Except, you don't really love
her, do you?  You just love what she represents, what she offers you.
You are such a fool, Nicholas."
        Nick looked at him.  "No, I'm not."
        "Yes, you are.  You've just had a taste of your little
scientist's blood, and you are intoxicated with all that love she's
throwing at you.  She loves you because you are unobtainable.  If you
were really available, she would have overcome her infatuation long
ago.  You are much too moody and depressing."
        "Then why are you still here, LaCroix?"
        LaCroix snorted.  "You are mine, Nicholas.  And I keep what is
mine."
        "That's no answer."
        "I don't have to answer to you, Nicholas.  I am your Master.
I brought you across.  I..."
        LaCroix stopped and listened.  A silky smile crossed his face
as fear suddenly swept over Nick's.  The elevator was grinding it's
way up.  The one thing Nick hadn't taken into account was Natalie.
        "I think," LaCroix said softly, "that the arguments are over.
It is time for justice."
        Even as Nick began to move, LaCroix was at the elevator
doorway just as it opened.
        "Ni..." Natalie gasped out as LaCroix suddenly took her from
behind, holding her tightly against him.
        Nick in a blur had followed LaCroix across the room, and stood
inches from Natalie.  She stared up at him in fear.  Her heart was the
only sound in the room, as Nick and LaCroix stared at each other.
        The sound was a heady invitation as Natalie's heart began to
race.
        LaCroix smiled, his fangs glistening in the dim light of the
loft.  Nick's fangs dropped in response.
        "You can't stop me, Nicholas.  You know that."
        "Yes, I can," Nick said evenly, holding onto his fear and
anger.
        LaCroix laughed.  "How.  I hold her, and you don't have the
strength to pry her out of my grip.  Not without breaking her neck..."
        LaCroix tilted her head and sensually licked Natalie's neck.
        Natalie gasped and swallowed.  She stared mutely up at Nick.
Her hands were white as they dug into LaCroix' arm, trying to loosen
his grip on her.
        "For Fleur..." LaCroix whispered, his breath a hot, dangerous
breeze against Natalie's skin.  She wanted to close her eyes and shut
this impossible nightmare out, but she couldn't.  Her gaze was trapped
in Nick's.  All her hope was in Nick.  Her life...
        "Bullshit," Nick said tightly, looking away from Natalie's
frightened gaze, which begged him to save her, and into LaCroix'
triumphant glare.
        LaCroix raised his head and looked narrowly at Nick.
        "You are doing this for yourself.  Not for Fleur.  You are
doing this because you like it.  Fleur is dead.  She's been dead for
eight centuries.  Get over it.  The rest of the world has."
        LaCroix stared at Nick halfway between anger and disbelief.
"You talk about your own sister that way..."
        "I'd talk about my mother that way.  I loved Fleur.  I still
love her.  But she lived her life, she fulfilled her destiny.  She was
happy.  The choice you made that night to let her live was the right
choice, and *you* know it.  Why can't you accept that?  Why do you go
on punishing me for the one truly decent thing you did?  Let it go.
Let Fleur go, ... let me go, LaCroix.  Why don't you let me fulfill my
own destiny?"
        "Your *destiny* is with me!" LaCroix said.  "It always has
been."  He glared at Nick angrily, and then amusement flickered in his
eyes.  "But you are right.  It isn't about Fleur.  It is about you.
        "It is always about you, Nicholas," LaCroix said mockingly,
"You are mine.  Now and forever.  When you accept that, mortals will
cease to drop like flies around you..."
        "And if you kill Natalie, you will not have me to taunt or
gloat over anymore.  Ever.  I swear," Nick said softly, solemnly, "I
swear that if you take her life, or harm her in any way, for the
entire length of her life, I will walk in the sun that same day.  You
choose, LaCroix.  If she dies, I die.  I will not let you take one
more life on my account.  The cup is too full."
        Nick met LaCroix' eyes.  Natalie didn't dare hardly breathe.
The air was charged with a heavy, frightening tension.  The last time
there had been a confrontation over her, she'd been under LaCroix'
power and missed the entire conversation.  This time she was here, but
oddly enough she knew it was better to stay quiet, at least for now.
Any word on her part, she was sure, would turn the balance and her life
would be over before she finished speaking.  She waited and hoped and
trusted Nick would save her, much as she had saved him earlier in the
day.
        "You wouldn't dare," LaCroix sneered.  "You love your life too
much.  Isn't that why you became a vampire?"
        Nick stared back and then suddenly turned on his heel and
stalked across the room.  Natalie watched him go with fear turning her
body into a limp quivering mass.  LaCroix watched curiously, waiting.
        Nick picked up the small wooden box off his coffee table and
returned.  He stood there a moment, weighing it in his hand, then
opened it.
        LaCroix winced and shifted back, pulling Natalie with him.
She cried out in pain, and Nick stopped.  He stared at Natalie, and
willed her to know that he would save her.  They gazed at each other
for what seemed like eternity, and Natalie suddenly knew it would be
okay.
        Nick pulled Joan of Arc's cross out of the box and held in
his hand.  Smoke rose from his hand, and the air was filled with the
acrid smell of burning flesh.
        "I swear," Nick said softly, "on this cross, by all that is
holy.  I swear, as a crusader sworn to defend the faith... I swear on
my mother's memory, and my sister's love..."
        LaCroix flinched, but held his ground.
        "...and I swear before God and all his holy angels, that I
will commend my spirit into his hands should anything happen to
Natalie.  I will walk into the sun.  I will stand before God and be
judged and thrown into the fires of hell without hesitation, if you
harm Natalie in any way," Nick's voice ended in a thread of pain as
the cross bit into him and burned him with escalating ferocity.  He
held it up as a talisman before LaCroix.
        LaCroix watched with morbid fascination as the blood dripped
down Nick's arm, and smoke rose in a swirling spiral heavenward.
        "All this for a mortal, who will wither and die on you?"
LaCroix asked incredulously.
        "All," Nick said firmly, in a pain filled voice.
        LaCroix looked down at Natalie, at the living pulse of blood
that beckoned him.
        "Why?" he whispered.  "She's a mortal, Nicholas.  Her life will
be over in the blink of an eye.  She's not worth it."
        "She is worth it, because God watches over her.  However,
whyever, she was allowed to come back through time to find me.  It
happened.  It wasn't a gift for me.  It was for Natalie.  I was never
meant to know--and neither were you.  But circumstance intervened.
Fate, karma, whatever.  And I learned it, and as a result, so did you.
I lost my control, my sanity, and she saved my life at great risk to
herself, despite the price.  I will repay the debt because I do love
her.  You know that, I know that, she knows that.  Will it make any
difference?"  Nick laughed bitterly.  "You know the answer to that.
I'm a vampire, Natalie is mortal.  I'm sure you can do the math.  Let
it go, LaCroix."
        "And if I do?"
        "Then I will give you loyalty and friendship.  I will honor
what you've given me."
        Natalie stared at Nick, horrified.
        "Will you come with me?"
        "At the end of Natalie's life.  If I'm still a vampire.  I
will come with you."
        "And live as a vampire?"
        "Don't push your luck, LaCroix," Nick said tiredly.  The pain
of the cross was beginning to close out all other reality.  "Choose."
        LaCroix stared at Nick, and then at Natalie. He knew Nick and
read the determination in his eyes.  On the other hand, he also knew
Nick's weakness.  Nicholas would kill his mortal love soon enough.
Having tasted her blood, he wouldn't be able to resist.  And then
LaCroix would be there, to fill the void.  To lead him gently back to
his senses.  Yes, Natalie was very transitory, and he, well, he would
always be there, wouldn't he?  He could wait.
        LaCroix let her go and shoved her roughly into Nick's arms.
Nick caught her as she stumbled and dropped the cross.  Natalie
grabbed it, snatched it out of the air somehow and held the blood
slicked cross in her hand as she stared back at LaCroix.
        "Very well.  She is safe.  And you are a fool."
        "Perhaps," Nick said, "perhaps not.  It all depends on your
perspective."
        LaCroix laughed, and was gone.  Only the shift and pull of the
smoke-laden air gave any indication he had been there at all.
        Nick groaned and fell to his knees.



Chapter 15

I have had a busy day, Madonna, and a busy night.
  -- Bellarion, Chapter 7

        "Nick?" Natalie said frantically, grabbing at him, and letting
the cross fall to the floor, "Oh God! Nick!"
        Nick caught himself with splayed hands, and barely prevented
himself from hitting the floor nose first.  Nick jerked his burned and
blood-slicked hand back at the excruciating pain.  Utter exhaustion
pulled at him.
        "Nick?  Are you all right?" Natalie asked, crying now as fear
and adrenaline gave way to relief.  She held onto his shoulders and
curled herself around him almost protectively.
        Painfully, Nick rocked back onto his heels and then fell
against Natalie.  They landed together in a heap, Natalie holding onto
Nick, and Nick holding his hand tightly against his chest, to prevent
any further pain.
        They sat there in silence for a few moments, Nick unable to
believe he'd won the round, and Natalie amazed she was still alive.
She began to weep silently as the adrenaline washed out of her system,
leaving her shivering.
        Nick watched his hand's burnt skin flake away as new pink skin
grew and replaced the charred skin.  Sighing he turned and pulled
Natalie into his arms and held her, ignoring his own pain.  She cried
harder at the comfort, and Nick could have wept for all the pain he'd
caused her.
        "I'm sorry, Natalie," he murmured against her hair, rocking
her back and forth.  "I'm so sorry.  I should never have let that
happen.  I just don't know how to stop him.  I don't know how..."
        Natalie found she had shoved her fist in her mouth to try and
stop herself from crying.  Her heart was still pounding, racing, as if
it would escape it's prison.
        Nick held her and comforted her, then realizing the storm would
not pass quickly, for either of them, picked her up in his arms and
carried her to the couch.  He sat in one corner, holding her close
with one hand, and with the other, pulled the blanket Natalie kept
there off the couch's arm and threw it around her.
        Slowly, Natalie found her composure as warmth seeped back into
her.  She wiped her face with grimy hands and searching her pocket
found a Kleenex and blew her nose defiantly.
        Nick pushed her hair away from her forehead and kissed her.
"Are you okay, now?" he asked softly.
        Natalie looked at him, and then shook her head.  Tears welled
in her eyes.  "No," she said softly.  "Not really."
        Nick kissed her again and pulled her close.  "I'm sorry," he
said again in anguish, "it's my fault.  It's my fault.  I knew he was
angry.  I just didn't think to warn you not to come.  It's my
fault..."
        Natalie stopped him with her hand.  "Nick," she whispered.
"I'd rather have had this happen when you were around, than when you
weren't.  If I hadn't come here, don't you think he might have come
after me at my place?  And then who would have saved me?"
        Nick leaned his forehead against hers.  "You shouldn't ever
have been placed in such a situation, Natalie.  If only..."
        "If only what?  That you'd left earlier, or thought to call
me?  Nick, I don't know about you, but with everything that's happened
this week, I'm so tired I can no longer think straight.  I expect you
are, too.  This one is not your fault.  It just happened."
        Nick pulled her close and held her with gratitude at her
forgiveness.  "I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispered,
"but it wasn't enough."
        Natalie smiled against his chest.
        "But I'm still sorry you went through that.  LaCroix can be
formidable when he is angry.  I'm not very good at deflecting his
anger.  I'm sorry."
        Natalie looked up at Nick.  "I am, too.  I've never been so
scared in my life.  I was sure I was going to die."
        "I know," Nick said, and pulled her closer still and rested
his chin on her head.
        "I've always been independent, Nick.  I've never been afraid
to speak my mind.  In fact, after you told me about Azure, I remember
thinking while I was lying there in the hospital with that stupid
concussion, that I wish I'd been awake.  I lay there and thought of
all the things I would have said.  I'd have put him in his place.  And
yet...," Natalie faltered, "for all my belief in independence and
standing my ground, I was absolutely sure that if I said anything, I
would be dead before I got the first syllable out.  I was sure of it.
So much for putting him in his place.  I had no idea he was
so...intimidating and..."
        "...overpowering," Nick finished.  "Yeah, well, he can be
pretty intense in a bad mood.  And yet, he's sometimes the most
fascinating and interesting person you can imagine.  I hate him and I
love him, Nat.  He's been friend and father, enemy and foe.  He's just
LaCroix."
        Natalie shook her head.  "I don't know.  I don't know how you
can love him, Nick.  He's...awful."
        Nick shushed her.  "I know."
        "I'm afraid to go home," Natalie whispered, clutching his
shirt.
        "I know.  Just stay here.  I'll hold you and keep you safe."
        Natalie started suddenly as she remembered the end of the
confrontation.  "But Nick, what about what you promised him?  You
can't go back to him!  You can't!"
        "I won't, Nat.  All I promised him for now was to be nice, to
give him the respect he wants.  Not to throw it in his face that I
don't like what I am.  It's okay."
        "It's not okay!  You promised to go back to him!  You can't,
Nick!  You can't!"  Natalie was almost frantic as she looked up at
him.
        Nick stopped her lips with his own.  "I'll do what I have to,
to keep you safe.  I've lived in his train off and on for 800 years.
Besides, I didn't say how long I'd go back to him for.  Don't worry
about it.  Let the future take care of itself.  Just rest.  Go to
sleep.  I'll keep you safe.  He'll never hurt you again.  I promise."
        Natalie lay against him and stared out into the darkened loft.
Nick had made LaCroix promise, but only by threatening his own death.
She didn't want Nick to die.  She didn't want to die.  She wanted to
live and love, and be happy.  But darkness seem to swirl around them,
and the path before her was more uncertain than ever.  Just five days
ago, they had faced death in the rubble.  At least Natalie had.  Now
she knew that if her life ended because of LaCroix' machinations,
Nick's would, too.  Her heart felt heavy.  She clutched him close and
closed her eyes against her fears...and drifted at last into sleep.
        Nick held her as night turned into day, and stroked her hair.
"I'm sorry, my love," he whispered.  "I'm so sorry."  For he knew
Natalie's last innocence had been taken from her by LaCroix.  She
shouldn't have ever known that monsters like he and LaCroix
existed, or that her love would place her in such danger.  Nick knew
that despite LaCroix' promise, he still couldn't save her from
LaCroix, if LaCroix chose to take her--if he found a way to twist his
words and break his promise.  It was a high price to pay.  And yet, she
paid it willingly.  He stared down at her, listened to her heart beat,
felt her blood singing to him, and could only count himself lucky to
know her, lucky to love her, and lucky she was alive.  His debt to her
continued to mount higher and higher.
        As he held her and stared into the darkness of his heart in
the shadowy loft, at last he thought of something he could do to
balance the scales and give Natalie back her joy and happiness.  If he
found some small measure of joy himself, well, that was okay, too.
        Finally Nick fell asleep, his head resting on Natalie's.  And
in each other's arms, they passed the day, and let sleep carry their
fears away.  At least for a little while...



Chapter 16

I do love nothing in the world so well as you, is not that strange?
  -- Much Ado About Nothing, Act IV, Scene I

        Natalie looked up from the cadaver she was autopsying as the
door to the morgue swung open.  She had hoped it would be Nick, but it
was only Grace entering the room backwards, as her hands were full of
blood samples.
        "Hi, Grace," Natalie said cheerfully. "I see you got the blood
samples back."
        "In spades," Grace agreed rolling her eyes.  She put them down
on the counter and began sorting them out.
        Natalie returned to her task, wistfully hoping that Nick would
still show up before the night was out.  Time was running out rapidly,
though, for sunrise was only fifty minutes away.
        She was surprised how much she needed to see him.  But she
did.  Despite the fact it had only been a few hours since she had
woken, still in Nick's arms.  He looked surprisingly young and
innocent asleep, and she had lain there watching him, until the urge
to kiss him had overcome her.
        Natalie sighed, remembering.
        Grace looked up, curious, to see a rather dreamy look on
Natalie's face.  Her hands were stuck in the middle of Mr. Frimmer's
chest, and she was oblivious to her surroundings.
        Grace laughed, and Natalie looked up and blushed.
        "So, what are you thinking about, Dr. Lambert?  Let me guess,
one blue-eyed, blonde Detective who works in the 96th precinct?"
        Natalie shook her head and laughed.  "You'll never know, will
you?"
        "Oh, I don't know.  You two looked pretty friendly at the
press conference last night.  And you both booked off early.  All it
takes is a bomb to get you two together, huh?" Grace said with a
smile.
        Natalie started at that.  The press conference.  It seemed
years ago.  So much had happened since then.  Life and death had
happened since then.  Fear and pain.  Sorrow.  Love.  So very much had
happened.  And yet life went on, didn't it?  They had woken, and faced
another day.  Natalie had at last gone home to shower and change and
come to work.  Nick, too, had been determined to come in, struggling
to put the frightening events of the night behind him.  And he'd
promised he would see her.  But now there were only forty minutes
until sunrise.
        Probably some homicide was keeping him busy.
        "Natalie?"
        Natalie looked up to find Grace waving her hand in Natalie's
face.  She'd space out again.  Natalie rolled her eyes and shrugged.
What could she say?
        "I think you've got it bad, girl," Grace said as she went back
to putting the samples in the fridge.
        Natalie could only agree.  She had to, to survive what she'd
survived the last few days.
        "Well, Mr. Frimmer hasn't seemed to mind," Natalie said
cheerfully as she closed him up.
        Grace laughed as she left the morgue for her next load.  Only
moments later she was back holding an envelope in her hand.
        "Guess what I found slipped under the door?" she asked as she
waved the heavy card-stock, gilt-edged envelope.
        Natalie raised an eyebrow.  "What?  An invitation from the
Queen?"
        "No.  I don't think so.  And it's not for me.  It's for you,"
she said, turning it so Natalie could see.
        "Really," Natalie said softly.  And then she dropped her
instruments and headed for the sink to strip her gloves off and wash
up.
        Grace handed it over triumphantly.
        Natalie took it a little gingerly, and carefully opened it.
        The card, too, was a plain, rich cream-color.  She opened it
and read the message.

                'Dearest Natalie,

                Would you do me the honour of joining
                me for breakfast at the loft?

                I promise there will be no
                unexpected surprises lurking
                behind my doors today.

                If you will join me, please call me.
                You know the number...

                        Love, Nick'

        Natalie smiled and carefully put the card back in the
envelope.
        "Well?" Grace asked.
        "Just a breakfast invitation," Natalie said airily, and headed
for the phone.
        "With Nick, I'll bet," Grace called after her.
        Natalie turned and smiled.  "Shoo," she said, and made waving
motions.
        Grace laughed and left with a knowing look.
        Natalie eagerly picked up the phone and punched in Nick's
speed dial number.
        Nick answered on the first ring.  "Knight's Breakfast Emporium."
        Natalie laughed, "Yes, I'd like to make a reservation for
breakfast?"
        "And what time would mademoiselle like to dine?" Nick
inquired in a suddenly very French accent.
        Natalie stopped and thought for a moment.  "How about ninety
minutes from now.  Mademoiselle wants to take a shower."
        "She could always take it here...," Nick said softly.
        Natalie felt her heart stop.  She swallowed.  "What an
enchanting offer, but mademoiselle's clothes are at her apartment.
Thank you anyway."
        "Very well, I will expect you in ninety minutes."
        "Thank you, Nick," Natalie said, excited.  He'd never invited
her to breakfast before.  This would be interesting.
        "You're welcome," he said, simply.  And then added just before
he hung up, "I love you."
        Natalie stared at the phone and felt a tremor of emotion brush
through her.  Her knees were suspiciously weak.  She felt her poor
heart racing and wondered how much more it could take.
        She blew out her breath in a gust, and felt her bangs ruffle
in the breeze.
        "Time to get moving, Lambert," she muttered, "you've got a
breakfast date."

        One hour and twenty-seven minutes later, Natalie got out of
her car and headed for the security door.  Her hair was still damp,
but she felt much better.  Something about the invitation had also
made her take a little extra care with her makeup, and decide to wear
a dress.  She wore a simple blue dress with an oval neckline, that
Nick had always liked.  She hoped she wasn't misinterpreting the
formality of the occasion.
        She punched in the security code, stepped into the elevator
and stopped dead.  The floor was covered with rose petals.  A single
long-stem rose hung from a ribbon next to the controls.  Slowly with a
trembling hand, Natalie removed it gently and breathed in its
fragrance.  After a moment she pushed the button, and began the trip
up to the loft, feeling as giddy and nervous as if it was a first
date.
        The door opened and Natalie stepped into the loft and stared
around her in amazement.  Everywhere she looked, tall wax candles
flickered and burned.  There were hundreds of them filling the room
with a gently magical light.  The only thing she could compare it to
was the scene from Camelot where Guinevere walked down the aisle to
the alter amidst hundreds of candles.  And underfoot, the floor of the
loft was also covered in rose petals.  She felt she had walked into
another world full of magic and mystery where the impossible was
possible.
        Nick materialized from nowhere, and took her hand in his and
slowly raised it to his lips and kissed it.  Then he turned it over
and pressed a kiss into the palm of her hands.
        Natalie felt something inside her turn into a quivering mass of
jello.
        Nick pulled her closer and kissed her gently on the lips.
Before Natalie could react, Nick had stepped back and gently began to
tug her towards the dining table.  Natalie blinked.  Her brain simply
stopped functioning at this unexpected and well...frankly unbelievable
show of open emotion and, she searched for a moment for the right
word, ... romance.
        She looked up at Nick suspiciously.  But yes, it was Nick,
unless somebody who looked just like him had taken his place.  Nick
smiled back gently as he pulled back the chair and gestured elegantly
for Natalie to sit.
        She did.  A little abruptly, as her legs gave out under her.
A grin escaped Nick at her landing.
        "Nick...?" Natalie asked uncertainly, "what has gotten into
you?"
        Nick's hand drifted down the side of her face in a whisper of
a caress.  "Shhh...," he said.
        Natalie stared at him, her head tilted to the side, as he sat
down opposite her.
        From out of the mellow glow, a tuxedoed waiter appeared and
presented her with a hot wash cloth.  Slowly Natalie took it, and
relished the warmth it gave as she gently cleansed her hands.  The
cloth disappeared as soon as she put it down.
        Nick leaned his chin on his hands and smiled at her with a
look somewhere between mischievous glee and some other emotion, that
Natalie could not quite define.
        Plates appeared deftly in front of her.  Strawberries with
cream materialized and Natalie decided to go with the flow.  It felt
like a dream, and she did not want to wake up anytime soon.  This was
too good to be true.
        She dug in as Nick watched indulgently while he sipped from a
wine glass.
        "Feeling better?" Nick asked softly.
        Natalie looked up from the strawberries-to-die-for and
smiled.  "Yes.  I can honestly say I relished a shift in which nothing
abnormal happened.  I did paperwork, blood tests, and autopsied
Mr. Frimmer, who died from a very normal cardio-vascular disease.  And
this is delicious, Nick.  Where'd you find strawberries at this time
of the year?"
        Nick merely grinned.  "What's money for, if you can't throw it
around once in a while?"
        "So, where'd they come from?"
        "South America."
        Natalie goggled.  "And you got them here in, what, twelve
hours?"
        "Well, not exactly.  They'd already made it to a distributor
in the States.  The caterers did the rest."
        "Well, they are wonderful.  Thanks."  Natalie put down her
spoon with a satisfied clunk.  She decided to not worry about the
logistics.  After all, Nick had lots of money.  What the hell, let him
throw it around, while he was throwing things around.  Like rose
petals...
        The waiter whisked the bowl away and replaced it with an
omelet that smelled divine.  "What would you care to drink?" he asked
unobtrusively.  Natalie thought for a moment.  "How about some hot
chocolate?"
        "What?" Nick asked, "no coffee, cappuccino, or cafe latte?"
        "Not this morning.  This feels like a dream, Nick, and
chocolate goes so well with dreams, don't you think?"
        Nick laughed, "If you say so..."
        Hot chocolate with *lots* of whipped cream appeared in front
of her.  Natalie knew she was in heaven.  She took a sip.  Yes,
definitely in heaven.
        "So how was your shift?" Natalie asked as she worked her way
through the omelet.
        Nick leaned forward and grinned, "Our mad bomber made a
mistake.  He sent us a note, saying that was just the beginning.
Since it came, the task force has managed to determine where he bought
the paper and where he mailed it.  We even have a description, now.
We've managed to nail down where the detonators came from as well as
the camera, so we're making progress.  On top of that, as you know,
there were no homicides.  It was a pretty good night, Natalie."
        Natalie stirred her fork around her omelet.  "Do you think
you'll catch this guy, before he does something else?"
        Nick leaned forward.  "I hope so.  With the breaks we've had,
we should be able to.  But it's going to take some digging.  But I
think we'll catch him--and soon."
        Natalie stared at her plate.
        A tiny frown creased Nick's brow.  "What is it, Nat?"
        "I don't know.  He's caused so much pain, so much death, and
yet..." Natalie looked up boldly at Nick, "look what he's given us.
Look how far we've come this week, Nick."  Natalie became very
interested in her plate again, and refused to look up.
        Silence greeted her assessment.
        Nick's finger tipped her chin up and she looked at him.
        "And you feel guilty for feeling this way," Nick said calmly.
        Natalie nodded.
        "Don't, Natalie.  I think I feel enough for both of us.  He
made his choices.  We made ours.  Just because they intersected
doesn't make it your fault if something good came of it."
        "I know.  But I've had so many feelings of guilt this week.
Guilt for being alive, guilt for knowing that my words caused you so
much pain.  If I knew how to keep my mouth shut while I'm asleep, you
wouldn't have gone through hell, and I wouldn't have had to..."
        "...meet LaCroix," Nick finished.
        Natalie bit her lip.  "Yes."
        "Don't," Nick said softly, once again.  "We could analyze it
to death, but it won't change the facts.  Just let it be, Nat."
        "You're a fine one to talk," Natalie said.  "What about you?
Aren't you feeling guilty over LaCroix?"
        "Yes, but I'm trying very hard to let it go.  I can't change
his choices, either.  You are still alive.  I'm still here.  I don't
think we could ask for more, right now, do you?"
        Natalie put her fork down and met his gaze.  "No, because
there's no place I'd rather be, than here with you."
        The air seemed suddenly thick with emotion.
        The waiter carefully inserted his presence into the charged
atmosphere.
        "Would you care for anything else?" he asked Natalie.
        She looked down at her plate, then shook her head.  "No,
thanks--oh, maybe some more hot chocolate?" she asked hopefully.
        "Certainly."  Her cup disappeared and was replaced in moments
with another brimming cup.  Nick nodded to the waiter, and moments
later the door to the stairwell opened and shut, and Natalie was all
alone in the loft with Nick.
        She sipped at her chocolate in silence, enjoying watching Nick
over the brim, as he watched her.
        She cleared her throat.  "It was wonderful. I can't remember a
more delectable breakfast.  Thank you."
        "My pleasure."
        Natalie looked around the loft, at the golden glow and
hundreds of flickering candles.  "The atmosphere is...wonderful,
Nick.  It's very...," she hesitated briefly, "...romantic."
        "Yes," Nick agreed with a glimmer of amusement.  He stood and
came around and pulled her chair back.  Natalie stood and turned to
look at him.  He took her hand and led her to the middle of the living
area by the sofa.
        "Why?" Natalie asked softly.
        Nick moved behind her and pulled her against him and held her
close in his arms.  His chin rested on her head.  "Because, I want you
to know how I feel.  You've saved my life twice this week, Natalie.
And all I could do was say 'thank you'.  In return, I almost took your
life, several times.  Do you know that when you drove out of here the
other night, my hand was literally on the bumper as you drove away.  I
was that close, Nat.  If you'd been any slower, or I'd been any
faster, I would have taken you.  I no longer knew who you were, only
that you were mine, I wanted you, I needed you..."
        Natalie shivered in his embrace.  Nick hugged her tighter.
        "...and then, because I was outside, I lost the scent, and
regained my senses.  I was so ashamed, Nat... And then you gave me
back my sanity, and my life, and what kind of thanks did you get for
that?  You got LaCroix licking your neck and threatening your life.
It's been a hard, hard week, Natalie."
        "It's okay, Nick," Natalie said through tears, watching
candles swim into a golden haze.
        "No.  It's not.  If I were anyone else, I could hold you in my
arms and kiss your fears away.  I could love you--make love to you,
and express that love for you.  But I can't.  I'm not Nicolas de
Brabant, a knight-crusader on my way to Paris, anymore."
        "No," Natalie agreed, "but you're who I fell in love with.
You're my knight.  The only one I want."
        Nick kissed the top of her head, and blinked away tears.
        "I can't express my feelings in action, Natalie, but I can
express them in words, and in deeds.  I can give you roses and
candlelight and all the things I know you love.  I know I haven't done
it in the past, but it seemed safer that way.  Safer!" Nick laughed
bitterly at the idea.  "I thought it would keep LaCroix far away.  But
it didn't.  And everything's changed this week.  D'you know LaCroix
was going on about change on the night of the bombing?"
        Natalie nodded.  "Yes.  I know.  I was listening."
        Nick stopped for a moment and took that in.  Natalie listened
to LaCroix.  He wondered why briefly, and then realized that she knew
exactly what LaCroix was up to.  Nick smiled, amused.  She was one of
the smartest women he had ever met.  He took a breath and went on
without comment.
        "Change has come into our lives.  Not what LaCroix was aiming
for, and certainly not what we were expecting, but it came.  And since
LaCroix promised to leave you alone, I see no reason why I can't give
you those things I was always afraid to before."
        "Oh...," Natalie breathed, feeling a trembling deep inside.
        Nick listened to her heart speed up, and closed his eyes in
joy.  He slowly nuzzled her neck and let her fragrance drift through
him.  Natalie, unafraid, pressed closer, and he held her closer
still.

        Nick whispered softly in her ear...

        "Dame je vos aime plus ke nun hons,
        por Deuz, n'amez nul autre se moi non.

                Chansonette vos dirai
                d'une amiette ke j'ai
        elle ne m'i daigne amer ce ne li doing;
        Dame je vos aime plus ke nuns hons,
        por Deuz, n'amez nul autre so moi non."

        Natalie listened to the words fall from his lips, entranced.
She knew French, enough to follow basic conversation, but this sounded
different, foreign.  She had absolutely no idea what he was saying,
but it was beautiful...

                "Ma dame, ce je suis nus
                mal chacies et mal vestus,
        se je vos tenoie nue an un destor,
        ausi boin cuer avroie com riches hons.
        Dame je vos aime plus ke nuns hons,
        por Deuz, n'amez nul autre so moi non.

                Or li ai je tout doneit,
                cuer et cors, et, kan ke g'ei,
        a faire sa volenteit a son besoing,
        et kan ke je ai d'avoir an mai maison.
        Dame je vos aime plus ke nuns hons,
        por Deuz, n'amez nul autre so moi non.

                Ancor suis je plus hardis:
                par lai blanche main la pris,
        si l'an menei on vergier leis un bouxon,
        puez je li baxai lai bouche et lou menton.
        Dame je vos aime plus ke nuns hons,
        por Deuz, n'amez nul autre so moi non."**

        Nick was silent, and then he pressed his lips to her neck,
over the leaping pulse of her vein, then he kissed her jawline, and
lingered there.  Natalie slowly turned her head, and met his lips.

        "Lady," Nick whispered against her lips,
        "I love you more than any can;
        Ah if not me, then love no other man."

        Unable to resist, Nick kissed her slowly, deeply,
passionately.  Then pulling away, he kissed her ear, and took a
shuddering breath.
        Natalie felt him trembling against her, or perhaps, she was
trembling against him.  She couldn't tell.  Bringing them to safer
ground she asked, "Was that part of the poem?"
        "Yes," Nick said simply.
        "Why couldn't I understand it?  It was French wasn't it?"
        "Yes.  But it was thirteenth century French," Nick said
softly.
        "Medieval French?" Natalie asked, awed.  "It was beautiful.
What did it mean?"
        Nick smiled over her head.  "What do you think it meant?"
        Natalie smiled, and leaned her head back against him.  "That
you love me..."
        "Oui... j'taime..."  Nick whispered.
        "Will you translate it?"

        "Some of it...
                Lady, naked though I be,
                Evil shod, clad wretchedly,
        If unbeknown I held your body bare
        I'd prove me sturdy as the wealthiest there,
        Lady, I love you more than any can;
        Ah, if not for me, then love no other man.

                Now I've given her my all,
                My heart and body are in thrall
        And every good whereof I stand possessed.
        To work her will of them as she likes best.
        Lady, I love you more than any can;
        Ah, if not for me, then love no other man..."

        "It is beautiful," Natalie said with a happy sigh.  For a
terrible week, it was definitely ending on a wonderful note.

        Nick let her go suddenly, and she felt cold, and lonely, but
he caught her hand and, smiling at her, led her to the couch.  He sat,
and then when she started to sit beside him, found herself suddenly
pulled onto his lap.
        Laughing, he pulled her close and kissed the tip of her nose.
"Sorry, but next to me isn't close enough, Nat,"
        "No," Natalie agreed, "it isn't."
        "Non...," Nick whispered.

        "Amors m'ont si pris et lie
        Que je ne puis aillors penser,
        Et mon corage desvoie,
        Que de li ne se puet torner.
        Ne sai s'avra de moi pitie,
        Mes ce me fet reconforter
        Que j'avrai ce qui m'est jugie,
        Je ne savra tant de morer.***

        "What?" Natalie asked, grinning at him.  He was so cute when
he quoted poetry.  Such an innocence lit his face, as if he had no
comprehension of evil.

        "Love," Nick said laughing at her look,
        "has so caught and bound me,
        that I can think of nothing else,
        and has so distracted my heart
        that it cannot turn away from my lady.
        I do not know whether she will take pity on me,
        but this thought gives me comfort;
        that I will have what has been adjudged me;
        it cannot take forever...."

        Natalie pressed her forehead to his.  "Who wrote it?"
        Nick laughed. "A lovesick poet in 1220."
        "Who?"
        "Just a boy from Brabant..."
        "You?"
        "Yeah, me."
        "It's beautiful...who'd you write it for?"
        Nick looked away for a moment.  "Gwyneth, I wrote it for
Gwyneth."
        "Of the magical harp...," Natalie said.
        "Yes.  I thought it true then, but now, it seems so much more
fitting, Nat.  I cannot think this moment of anything but you, and
that you love me, that you care for one like me, whose past has been
filled with such evil, and wickedness at times...it does comfort me.
And I am...content," Nick said as he caressed her hair, twining it in
his hands.  "More so than I thought possible."
        Natalie slid her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek,
and then his neck.  Nick shuddered at the touch to such an erotic
spot, and when he looked at her, gold glittered like fireworks in his
eyes.  But he merely caressed her cheek.
        "I wish I was good with poetry," Natalie sighed.  "But I
hardly ever remember anything, except for poems that haven't a lick of
romance in them.  Like e.e. cummings.  You know, 'Up so floating many
bells down...' that sort of thing."
        "Huh?"
        "I take it you never heard of him, well, that's all right.
Yours is *much* better, Nick.  Trust me."  Natalie paused for a
moment marshaling her thoughts.  "This has been so...wonderful, Nick.
I feel so happy, I can't describe it.  I could stay here like this
forever."  She snuggled down into his arms, and he caressed her,
sliding his hand up and down her arms, across her shoulders, as if
memorizing the lines of her body.
        "Nat?"
        "Yes,"
        "You're beautiful, you know.  I have this image of you in my
mind, your body gleaming in the moonlight, you're hair all tossed and
wild, holding the ring in your hand, looking up at me with such hope.
You are beautiful.  Like Venus rising from the sea, so beautiful..."
        Natalie felt tears prick at her, burning down her cheeks.
She'd never felt particularly pretty--just sort of average, and she'd
never attracted many men.  Those she had, she'd held at arms length.
But Nick made her feel more than pretty, he made her feel truly
beautiful.
        He wiped away a tear with his finger, and then his lips caught
the next, and the next, and Natalie lifted her lips to his in mute
appeal.
        Nick caught his breath and then found her mouth with his own
for a deep kiss, full of need, hope, and love.  Slowly, Natalie found
herself sliding backwards, down onto the couch, with Nick following
after. The length of his body against hers.  His lips moved from her
mouth to her cheek, to her jaw, and moved sensuously down her neck,
while his hands slid across her, touching her, caressing her...
        Natalie kissed his neck and felt him shudder at the touch.
His mouth abruptly found hers again, and passion ignited between them.
        Nick felt need and desire envelope him as Natalie pulled him
close and met him kiss for kiss.  Natalie slid her hand down his neck
and undid his top button, as she kissed his jaw, and then his so very
sensitive neck.  Nick shuddered against her, and once more his
lips trailed down her cheek to her neck, to the pulsing blood calling
to him.  His fangs dropped and he hovered there breathing in her
fragrance, wanting it, needing it, as he grazed her neck with his
fangs, teasing her, sending himself into ecstasy.  Natalie arched her
neck unconsciously to him, and Nick drew back, ready to plunge his
fangs into her neck.  He needed to taste her.  He needed her blood.
It was the sweetest nectar he'd ever known, and he was incomplete
without it...
        Nick realized what was happening and threw himself off the
couch.  Away.  He plastered himself against the kitchen wall in his
fear at how close he'd come--and still might--to taking her blood.  To
taking Natalie.  He took a deep breath and the next moment was at the
fridge drinking a cold, lousy substitute for what he really, really
wanted.
         Natalie found herself alone, abandoned unceremoniously on the
couch.  Blinking she sat up, feeling bereft, needing Nick,
needing...something only he could give her.  She looked around.  Nick
was at the fridge drinking straight from a bottle.
        She leaned her chin on the back of the couch and watched him
silently.  He put the bottle down and stared back at her, his eyes
a chilly gold.
        Natalie slid to her feet and walked quietly across the room.
It was obvious Nick wasn't going to move.  He looked away, miserable,
as she neared.  Natalie reached out and took his hand in hers.  She
looked down at it, turned it over and traced his palm.
        "This is a good hand, a strong hand," she said, "and it belongs
to a good and honorable man."  She felt him try to pull away, and held
on tightly.  She looked up into his eyes and smiled.
        "I'm sorry, Nat," Nick said miserably, "I shouldn't have...I
told you it was dangerous to have tasted your blood.  I should..."
        Natalie stopped his apology with her hand, and then looking
into his golden eyes, deliberately kissed him, despite the blood still
visible on his lip, and stepped back to look into his shocked eyes.
        "Don't apologize, Nick.  There were two of us in that kiss.  I
wanted it just as badly as you.  You knew when to leave and you did,
Nick.  That's what counts.  And I'm afraid I didn't help, did I?  I
got a little carried away, too."  Natalie said softly, as she played
with his button.  "You're still my hero, Nick.  C'mon back to the
couch.  We'll just talk for a while, okay?"
        Nick reluctantly allowed her to lead him back, but now they
sat side by side, and after a moment, Nick put his arm around her, and
she pillowed her head on his shoulder.
        It seemed that there were no more words.  Limits had been
reached.  And the gulf between them, seemed for the moment so wide,
the border so clearly delineated, that nothing could cross.  Natalie
played with Nick's hand, while he idly toyed with her silky hair.
        "Nick?"
        "Hmmm?"
        "I love you," Natalie said slowly, deliberately, "Not for
what you might be, or might've been, but for who you are."
        Nick pulled her close and held her as if she was his only
anchor.  She knew if she looked, there would be tears, dark red tears
in his eyes.  She didn't look because it no longer mattered.  It was
just a part of who he was.
        "I love you, too," Nick said finally.  "And I will protect
you, Nat.  I will keep you safe.  I promise."  And he would.  He would
protect her not only from LaCroix, but from himself.
        "I know," Natalie said and snuggled closer.
        Nick smiled down at her, amazed at how easily she accepted him
and the danger that surrounded him.  And so they sat, content to be
together, and wise enough to accept what they had, until Natalie
drifted into sleep.
        In truth they both knew they lived on the edge of danger at
all times. This week had nearly ended in tragedy.  It hadn't, but
there was no telling what the future would bring.  He looked down on
her and sighed.  So close and yet so very, very far.
        "Natalie?" he whispered.
        Gentle breathing answered him.
        He touched her cheek softly.  She was so beautiful.  She was
everything he had ever wanted or needed.  Awe overcame him that she
could love him.  For there had never been one so unworthy as he.
        Gently he kissed her cheek, and let his hand drift down her
face, caressing it.  He brushed his lips across hers, and held her
close.

        "Natalie," he whispered, "I love you more than any can;
        Ah, if not for me, then love no other man..."

        And he held her quietly, content, for a long time.  Finally,
Nick looked around the room, at the candles that had filled the room
with such magic.  Natalie made magic of his life.  She brought light
and joy and hope to his empty life.  He hoped and prayed that he would
not make a nightmare of hers, or bring darkness, despair and death to
Natalie.  Gently he slipped out of her arms and walked the room
putting the candles out one by one, letting the romance and magic
disappear into the reality of the new day.
        Then, he carefully picked Natalie up in his arms and gently
carried her upstairs and laid her in his bed.  She turned over and
embraced the pillow without waking, as he covered her with a quilt.
He gazed down at her for a long time, filled with deep yearning to be
with her.  He had intended to spend the night on the couch, but found
he could not leave her.
        He just couldn't.
        After a long moment, Nick deliberately lay down beside her.
He slid beneath the quilt, pulled her into his arms and molded himself
to her.  She muttered softly and turned into his embrace.  Softly he
caressed her hair, and kissed her brow.  "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you, Natalie."
        He had been able to love her in the past, and perhaps someday
in the future, he would again, but for now he held her in his arms,
just this once, and let himself dream.  It was almost enough.


Epilogue

        Arthur sighed, and scratched Rolly's floppy ear.  "Beautiful,
wasn't it?"  He had so wanted to fulfill Nick's wish, but it was not
to be--not yet.  A higher authority had spoken.  It was not yet time.
The time was coming when Nick would need help far more than he did
now.
        "But, you know, Rolly, he didn't do so bad, not so bad at
all.  Nicholas truly has a romantic soul, don't you think?"
        Rolly barked happily and wagged his tail.
        "Well, guess we better be going, we've got other fish to fry,
eh?"  Arthur left, melting through the wall, with Rolly tagging at his
heels.  He gave one last backward glance at Nick, lying there holding
Natalie close--holding--as Arthur knew, all his hopes and dreams, in
his arms.

                                                ************


Acknowledgements:

*   The Divine Comedy, "The Inferno", cantos 2 & 3, by Dante Alighieri
**  Anonymous Poem, from "Early Mediaeaval French Lyrics, 12th or 13th
        century, collected and translated by Claude Colleer Abbott
*** From "The Lyrics and Melodies of Gace Brule", late 12th century,
        edited and translated by Samuel N. Rosenbery and Samuel Danon.

Chapter Quotes:
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare
Electra by Euripides
Iphigenia in Tauris by Euripides
Bellarion by Rafael Sabatini


I would also like to acknowledge T.C. for the lecture on automatic
weapons, clips, and brass, and Annette and Jeanne Pells for their
research and help with the medieval French poetry.

And Liza, thanks for standing in my office that one day and *demanding*
the next part. <g>  That's when I knew it was a good story.

I also regret that I couldn't quite work in a flashback.  I'll make up
for it next time. <bg>  I hope you all enjoyed the ride.  I know I did.

Please let me know what you thought of this story.  Authors do need
feedback.  Without it, we tend to wither and die, it's what makes us
write...

End of Story....
-----------
Comments, as always are accepted gratefully, critiques are considered,
and flames are cheerfully ignored at delggren@loftworks.com.
_