From catheboo@cco.caltech.eduFri Apr  5 07:51:23 1996
Date: Fri, 5 Apr 1996 01:38:08 -0800 (PST)
From: Swordsister <catheboo@cco.caltech.edu>
To: cynthia hoffman <choff@violet.berkeley.edu>
Subject: When Day Breaks

When Day Breaks
by Catherine Boone
catheboo@cco.caltech.edu

The morgue needed a window.  That's all there was to it.  Who cares
that they were in the sub-basement of the coroner's building, and that
the most exciting thing to see would be the occasional worm twisting
by?  Grace pondered her nails again, and sighed.  Watching the grass
grow would be more interesting than trying to find that last nonexistent
hangnail, which was what she'd been doing for the last half-hour.  If
they didn't get some business soon, she was going to crack up, and that
was a promise.  But at least she wouldn't be alone, from the look of
things.  Natalie sat at her desk across the room and fiddled endlessly
with her keys, seemingly transfixed by the play of light along the chain.
Back and forth, back and forth, the keys glittered and jangled in the
fluorescent light.  Finally, enough was enough.  Grace put her head in
her hands and took a deep breath.  "Go!"

Natalie was so far gone, she didn't even look up at the outburst, but
continued to stare forlornly at her keys.  "Grace, we've got another hour
left to work.." she responded halfheartedly.

"Well, that'll be an hour less that I have to listen to your blessed keys
while you watch the seconds tick away!"  Grace tried hard to look
annoyed, she really did.  But she couldn't help but laugh, as the concept
of freedom ever so slowly wormed its way into Natalie's mind, and her
smile got brighter, and brighter...

Still chuckling, she repeated, "Go on.  Get out of here.  I can hold the 
fort till quitting time."

Natalie looked for all the world like a five-year-old getting out of 
school.  She leaped out of her chair and ran for her coat, smiling from 
ear to ear. "Grace, you're a saint!  What would I do without you?"

"Besides go blind staring at your key chain?"  And she almost burst out
laughing again as Nat darted over and gave her a quick hug and kiss on
the cheek.  "You drive safe, now, you hear me?"

Nat was already through the first set of doors as she called out, "I 
will!  I'll see you tomorrow!"

Grace rubbed her eyes, still smiling, and sighed.  "Kids."

***

Natalie sat shivering in the parking lot, waiting for her engine to warm
up before she went home.  She blew warm air on her mittened hands,
and idly wondered where her hat had run off to.  Probably left it in the
office in her rush to get out of there.  But, smiling, she knew she
wouldn't go back in there for all the world.  And give Grace a chance to
change her mind?  Not a chance.  "So get warm, already!"  She could
already see it: the fireplace burning, a warm kitty on her lap, and a 
good, long book in her hands.  And any disturbing vampires could take two
bottles and call her in the morning.  She reached out to see if the 
engine was warm enough to start.  All she had to do was get the damn car
warmed up, and she was gone...

She didn't know how they got in.  She didn't even see them coming.
All of a sudden, they were just there.  Three laughing, roughhousing
teenagers in her back seat, the same as any other group of teenagers you
pass by on the street corner, and don't give a second thought to.  The
very same.

It was only when one leaned in close that she saw the knife in his hand.
Only when he reached for her neck that his sleeve slipped a little, and
she saw the needle scars running up and down his arm, like pox.  And it
was only when he whispered in her ear that she smelled the alcohol on
his breath.  She felt a wave of cold wash over her as the metal touched
her neck, and he repeated his soft whisper in her ear.  "Shut the door.
It's cold outside."

She didn't want to know why he was laughing.

***

Grace dived for the phone on its first ring.  "Whoever this is, I hope 
you like long chats, because you're the most interesting thing to happen 
to me in a good half an hour, and I'm not putting down this phone until
my shift ends."

"Hi, Grace.  Another busy day at the office?"

Her smile widened slightly as she registered the voice.  "Detective, why
don't they give you guys more vacation?  You're driving us right out of
business!"

Grace could just see Nick's smile, as he replied dryly, "I'll try to keep 
that in mind."

"Well you'd just better.  They work you folks too hard."  She heard his
intake of breath.  "And before you ask, no, she's not here.  Her Laziness
took off a few minutes ago.  I might be able to still catch her..."  
Pause.  "Nope, her car's already gone."  Grace snorted haughtily.  "She's
probably well on her way to bubble bath heaven by now.  The snake.
Tomorrow, *I* get to leave an hour early."  She heard Nick trying
valiantly not to laugh.  "But don't you tell her I said so!  She might 
not even come in at all!"

"I won't.  I'll talk to you later, Grace."

"Hey, wait a minute!"  Grace scrambled for conversation.  "You haven't
told me the new gossip in the precinct, yet.  You're not allowed to hang
up till you give."

"You want the latest?"  Nick was grinning like a two year old.  He was
always the last person to hear *everything*, till he picked up this 
little morsel this morning, and he couldn't wait to hear the reaction.

"Mmm-hmm.  Come on, now, don't be shy."

"You know Trix and Hawthorne?"  He paused for dramatic emphasis.
"They're getting married."

Pause.  "Nick, you know that gossip is two months old, don't you?"

Even longer pause.  "You're kidding."

"Nope.  Better luck next time, Detective."

Grace stayed on just long enough to hear the soft thump of Nick's head
hitting the desk before she quietly hung up.

***

The trees flew past, row by row by row, like black and white walls  
across her headlights, the snow darting all around her like a cloud of 
shooting stars.  In another time, another circumstance, she might have 
even considered it beautiful.

They must have driven twenty miles or more out of the city.  The
houses had long since petered out.  No more hotels, no gas stations,
nothing.  It really was amazing how fast one could get so far from help.
She hadn't been driving more than half an hour, and already there were
few options left for escape.  Even if she did manage to get away from
them after they had gotten to wherever they were going, she would
never make it back to the car.  They'd be expecting that.  She wouldn't
make it ten feet.  No, her only hope was to do something they couldn't
anticipate.  Inwardly, she sighed.  It would have to be by foot, or 
nothing.  She grimly reviewed her clothes without looking down.  Business 
suit, knee high skirt, long wool overcoat.  Mittens, but not very good 
ones.  No hat.  No boots.  She risked a glance of despair at her heeled 
shoes.  Not only would they do her no good, but they would actually slow 
her down.  She'd have to dump them.

God.  Virtually barefoot, and her thick hair would only keep her ears
warm for so long.  By her count, the last side road was about three miles
back, and the last definite house was another four.  She couldn't even
rely on anyone passing by.  The nearest town along this road was
another fifty miles from Toronto, and it was far too small to have many
commuters.  Seven miles in the snow till she could get to help.  Best
walking speed being four miles an hour, she'd be exposed to the cold for
at least an hour and a half.

With clinical detachment, she reviewed her fate.  Two hours in the cold,
with no shoes and no hat.  If she made it to safety without  succumbing
to hypothermia, which was a big if, she was looking at  frostbite on both
feet, ears, and nose.  Possibly fingers, as well, but that would depend 
on how much of the time she kept her hands in her  pockets.  The 
hospitals in Toronto were well equipped to deal with  frostbite 
patients, so she might even be able to keep her toes from being 
amputated.  But there were no guarantees.

And this was her most laughably optimistic case, if she stopped now, got
away immediately, and stuck to the plowed road.  Realistically?  She
wouldn't be able to stay on the road for long, lest they catch her by
simply getting in the car and driving back the way they came.  It would
be necessary at first, to keep them from following her trail of 
footprints.  But traveling barefoot through seven miles of deep snow in 
the woods at night?  Natalie breathed deeply, and closed her eyes a 
moment in self pity.  But the bite of the knife at her neck snapped them 
open again as she gasped.

"Now now, sweet-um.  No sleeping yet.  The party's just started."  That
set them off to giggling again.  She was really beginning to despise the
sound.

She cleared her throat softly to make sure her voice didn't crack when
she spoke.  "Where are we going?"

"Second star on the right, Mr. Sulu, and straight on till morning."  He
was still snickering softly as she felt the knife drift down her chest,
slicing buttons as it went.  "Mmm hmm.  Very nice.  I think we may
have fun with you yet..."  Natalie was calmly amazed that the steering
wheel was neither bending in two beneath her hands, nor were her teeth
grinding themselves into powder, as the knife brushed very slowly, very
gently across her bare skin.

"Hey, Luke, no fair!  You can't play now!  You got to go first last 
time!" was the protest from behind her.  She heard a little scuffling.

"Oh, piss off, Greg.  You'll get your turn.  Keep a leash on it."

The other snorted.  "Yeah, that's what you said last time, and look how
that turned out.  The chick got offed before the rest of us got our 
turn." 

"Look, will you two shut up?  We'll all get a turn this time.  Right?" 
the third cut in, with an edge to his voice.

"Yeah, yeah.  We'll all get a turn this time."  The first said in a 
mocking voice to the second, who kicked him.

Another knife shot out from the back seat, right next to Natalie's eye,
and she jerked violently.  Her reaction went unnoticed as the knife
waggled in a general forward direction.  "It's the next left after this.  
Be ready."

She took a few more deep breaths, and glared at the road ahead of her,
already starting to consciously change fear to anger.  Oh, don't worry, 
she thought silently to herself.  I will be.

***

Nick picked up the phone and speed dialed Natalie's number again.
And again, it rang exactly four times, then the machine cut in with the
exact same recording.  And again, Nick left the exact same message he
had the last three times he called, and hung up.

He sighed.  She was definitely ignoring him.  And, as usual, he had
absolutely no idea which of his innumerable faults she'd decided were
pissing her off that day.  And, also as usual, she probably wouldn't tell
him until she'd cooled off, in which case it wouldn't matter anymore.
And the entire thing would be forgotten, at least until it came up again.
Nick shook his head, and sighed again.  God, sometimes he couldn't
help but think that their relationship was exactly like two mimes trying
to act out an episode of Beverly Hills 90210.

There was, of course, the possibility that Lacroix had finally decided 
that his little fit of altruism had worn off, and was draining her right 
now as he sat... yeah, right.  He rubbed his eyes, and cursed an 
overactive imagination.  The entire idea was idiotic.  Why would Lacroix 
choose now, when he could have struck easily so many times before?  
Unless... 

Lacroix had had so much more time to see the two of them together
recently.  Especially when he had been possessed.  He (part of him
rebelled at the idea of recognizing any part of the demon that had
possessed him as part of his own self, but he had to be honest, with
himself, if no one else) had thrown Lacroix across the room with hardly
a second thought, yet found the strength to banish the demon, rather
than harm a hair on Natalie's head.  What other explanation could
there be, than a man in love?

He grabbed his coat, and started for the door.  He knew perfectly well 
that she would not be happy to see him.  She would meet him with that 
cool stare that bored right through him, and uninterestedly ask him to 
come in.  Or she might just slam the door in his face.  But she would be 
all right, and Natalie angry was infinitely preferable to Natalie dead.

***

Nick pulled up to Nat's apartment.  Her car space was empty.  He kept
telling himself that didn't mean anything, nothing at all.  She went out
to get Sydney more catnip, or something.  That's all it was.  Besides, he
wasn't sure if Lacroix even knew how to drive.  And even if he did, he
would never stoop so low as to use one to dump a body.  He looked up at
her window.  A light was on, but Natalie always left a light on, so it
always looked like someone was home.  Again, it meant nothing.  He
strained his ears, listening.  Softly Sydney meowed at the door.  Sydney
got his food as soon as Natalie got home in the evening, so he never
failed to sit and wait by the door for her to get there.

Sydney was still meowing.  She had never gotten there.

Nick took to the air in an instant, pushed out all other thoughts, and
concentrated on listening to the city.  Usually he tuned out the majority
of the noise, just for sanity's sake.  Too much information at once
usually wasn't a problem most people had to face, but to them it was
occasionally a real danger.  The first things he had learned in his new 
life were to keep out others' thoughts, and to keep out others' noise.  
It was one of the many things you learn to mimic, to appear more human.  
But now he let all that go for a moment, and really, truly listened, to
everything and everyone.  Rats scurried next to the garbage cans beneath
him, dogs howled forlornly down the block.  As his range expanded,
tires screeched, horns blared.  And the people!  Crying, laughing, 
talking, screaming.  It was a trick he rarely used, and now he 
remembered why.  Sometimes it felt like he could hear every sound in the 
city, every screech, whine, howl, and whimper.  It lent itself so easily 
to the feeling of godhood, when it was simply a useful tool to aid in the
kill.  To hear the heart of the prey.  Occasionally, as now, it had its
uses.  That was all.  He closed his eyes, and pretended that his heart
didn't leap at the feeling of power, in joy and in fear.  A tool.  That 
was all.

And though he listened with all his might, ten miles of solid sound, he
couldn't hear a whisper of her.

***

"Hello, Detective Vetter speaking."

"Tracy?  It's Nick.  I want you to put out an APB on Natalie's car."

God, did she ever hate that authoritative tone of voice.  It never failed 
to remind her of her father, and bring out the worst in her.  "A... All 
right. But isn't she at home by now?"

"I'm at her place now.  It looks like she never got home."

Tracy's brow knotted instantly.  How did he know that?  "But, Nick..."

"And odds are that she's out of the city, so focus your search outside 
the metro area."

Her jaw dropped at that.  What did this guy use for clues, a Ouija board?
"Nick, what is going *on*?"  But he had already hung up.  She glared at
the receiver for a moment.  She knew perfectly well she was being
snowballed.  But he wasn't going to get away with it this time.  She
quickly put out the APB, then grabbed her coat and ran for her car, 
trying to remember where exactly Natalie lived again...

...but he had already set out on foot by the time she got there.  What 
the heck he thought he could accomplish on foot, who knew?  "I swear, for
the life of me, I'm never going to understand that guy.  Never never
never."  She glared at the caddy, gleaming softly in the moonlight.  She
started to kick the rear bumper, accentuating her complaint.  "Darn his
*stupid* caddy, and his *stupid* secrecy, and his *stupid*, half-ass self
reliance anyway!"  Partners?  No, apparently she was just the most
convenient *phone* operator!  She gave the bumper another half-
hearted kick.  "I swear, one of these days he's going to get both of us
killed with this crap."  She couldn't complain to the captain, of 
course.  I mean, the man had saved his life!  As far as he was 
concerned, her partner walks on water.  And she most certainly couldn't 
go to *him*.  He'd just get that authoritative tone of voice, and she'd 
instantly turn into a stammering five-year-old again.

She peered at the section of bumper she'd been beating on.  Not a
scratch.  Of course.  She resisted the temptation to kick it again, and
stalked back to her car.  Time to go back to work.  Where she could sit 
by the phone and wait for His Highness to clue her in.

This time she did run back to the caddy, for one last heartfelt kick.

"Jerk."

***

Natalie finally found the side street they were looking for, after a 
couple wrong turns to make time for someone to figure out she was gone.  
She knew it wasn't much, but even a little more time certainly wasn't 
going to hurt her.  But she could only stall so long, and they did 
eventually turn and make their way up the long driveway.  The actual 
house was about half a mile in from the road.  The idea of clearing the 
road of snow was a joke, so it seemed that whoever lived there either 
didn't use it in winter, or didn't mind being stuck inside once the snow 
fell.  This week had been particularly bad for weather - it had been 
clear, sunny, and wickedly cold.  So even though snow should have fell 
long before, the ground wasn't very icy, and they had no trouble 
navigating the road in Natalie's small city car.

She finally saw the house up ahead, and blessfully there was a long
stretch of road leading up to it that was very straight and flat.  
Perfect.  She tried to remember as clearly as she could exactly what had 
happened when they all loaded into her car.  Her memory was kind of hazy 
once she saw the knife, but she was fairly certain none of them had put 
their seat belts on.

She slowly drove to the flat stretch, took one deep breath for courage,
and hit the accelerator as hard as she could.  All three of the boys were
thrown backward, yelling and cursing.  But by the time they could 
retaliate, she slammed her car into the side of the house at full speed.
She caught the faintest glimpse of bodies flying past... then she smacked 
her head on the steering wheel, and slumped forward, unconscious.

***

Natalie groggily raised her head, and tried to remember exactly where
she was.  Her eyes slowly focused on the steering wheel in front of her,
an impressive dent where she'd bashed her head against it.  But that
didn't really help her figure out where she was.  Next she tried to focus
on something a little farther, outside the car.  A wave of nausea almost
persuaded her that it wasn't worth it, but she thought she could see
something.  Something on her hood... she squinted her eyes to see more
clearly,  because it looked an awful lot like a body, which of course was
crazy.  What would a dead man be doing lying on top of her hood...?

Memory returned in a jolt of adrenaline, which did her headache no good 
at all, and she winced.  She quickly scanned for the other two, ignoring 
the way her eyes swam whenever she moved her head.  She could get out of 
here with a concussion, if she had to.  But I don't have to enjoy it, she 
thought, as a particularly large spike dug into her forehead, right 
*there*.  She caught sight of another of them, lying next to the side
of the house, with his face toward her.  He was obviously dead.

But it was pointless to try to find them.  Her first priority was to get 
the hell out of Dodge, and call for an ambulance, police, whatever.  
Bring in the cavalry, and never ever drive down this road again.  
Fortunately the car was still running, which meant she had some gas left 
in her tank.  Having no clue how long she'd been out, she'd better assume 
that it was just about gone.  Better use it while she could.  Slowly, 
methodically she focused on the gear shift, and put it in reverse.  
Setting her teeth against the pain of looking out farther than her nose, 
she zoomed backward, sliding the other body off her hood as she went.

She never heard or saw the third one, the one seated directly behind her.
She barely even got a good glimpse of his knife before it plunged into
her heart.  But she heard his voice most clearly, as if it were the only
sound in the world.  "Luke was stupid not to kill you in the first 
place."  And as she sank for the last time into the enveloping darkness:

"They're all more fun dead, anyway."

***

Nick had been prowling the city in ever-widening circles, listening for
the slightest sound that could lead him to Natalie.  He had searched by
air for as long as he could, in all the nearby cities and towns, and he 
still couldn't hear her.  Then he tried a different approach.  He started
scanning by sight for her car, her hair... until he suddenly realized, to 
his horror, that he couldn't remember what she had been wearing that day.
The tension of hours of searching, kept carefully hidden, came abruptly
to a head as Nick's hands began to shake, and he felt panic begin to
forcibly set in.  Stupid, stupid!  What in God's name was she wearing
today?  This was not a trick question!  Green, blue, brown, pick a color.
His palms ground into his eyes in an effort to force the information out.
Had he not even gone to see her today?  Could that really be the answer?
How could he not go to visit?  How could he forget? He always visited
her, always.  Every day.

Every day except today.  Nick landed on a nearby roof and waited a moment 
till his thoughts regained some order; clasped his hands in front of him, 
and willed them not to shake.  There were dozens of perfectly reasonable 
things she could be doing right now.  She could have just decided to 
visit a friend, and had forgotten to tell him.  She could be at a 
birthday party that had completely slipped his mind.  She'd meet him in 
the morning with a disapproving look, and a small piece of cake to watch 
him force down as penance.  She'd be all right.

She'd be all right.

But when Nick lifted into the air, and resumed his search, his hands were 
still shaking.

***

It didn't take him long to find her car, once he was looking over the
right area.  There wasn't much around in the way of people or supplies
because, as much as some people might wax philosophical about  the
good old days when there were less people around to muck things up,
the human is far too social an animal to enjoy solitude for long.  Only a
very few have the temperament for it.

The front end of the car looked pretty banged up, even from this height.
Then he saw two specks nearby.  They weren't... Nick fell like a shot to
the ground, and carefully examined them.  No.  Neither one was Natalie.  
He carefully circled the place, keeping his footprints apart from the 
rest in the shallow cover of snow.  If they could get a team out here,
they might even be able to pull some footprints off of some of them, a
clinical portion of his mind remarked.  But he saw no sign of Natalie.
She must have gotten away.  She must have.  It was then, as he turned
the last corner of the house, and approached the car from the other 
side, that he saw her.

Multiple stab wounds, they would say.  Post-mortem sexual assault.  As
if the words could describe her as she is now.  They will say nothing of
her balled fists or her clenched teeth.  They probably won't even
mention the look in her eyes...

Nick found himself sitting next to her.  He gently brushed her hair out 
of her eyes, but the matted frozen blood simply made it break off when he 
moved it.  He watched it all as if from a great distance, some far-off 
place where it somehow wouldn't matter.  He could see himself, and her, 
still and cold in the blowing wind, the trees swaying, their branches 
clicking together, and he was silently amazed at how seamlessly life 
flowed around and past him, moving on when he could not.

And so he sat, and looked at her, and wordlessly raged against the 
blowing of the wind, that reminded him that time was passing, that he
needed to get up, to report the scene to the proper police, to take notes 
of what he found as he found it.  To put her face behind him.  Forever.

Nick Knight sat in a dusting of snow, and held a dead body tightly, for 
no good reason at all.

So deep in shock was he, that he barely noticed her first gasp of breath
against his chest, and her frozen hand clench his tightly.  He only heard
her whisper his name, before she succumbed to a fit of coughing, and
began to shiver violently in the winter air.

When she finally got her breath again, her first words were, "Nicholas B.
Knight, if you brought me across, I am going to kill you."  A final
coughing jag hit, "Twice."

Nick's eyes brimmed with tears, and he hugged her tightly enough to break 
ribs.

***

"Nick, I told you, I'm all right!"  Natalie sat on Nick's couch, bundled 
up in several layers of warm clothes that she was sure hadn't been out 
of the closet since he bought them.  Her hands and feet were immersed in
cold water, and she was beginning to regain feeling in them at what she
knew was a vastly accelerated rate.  She couldn't decide if she was more
annoyed at not knowing what on earth was going on, or thankful that the 
burning pain would only last a little while longer.  She decided to be
thankful for the moment.  She'd have plenty of time to be annoyed on
that subject later, when she wasn't gritting her teeth in pain anymore.
Besides, she had her hands full for now, just trying to beat Nick out of
this ultra-protective stage he was wallowing in.  "Will you stop babying
me?  And while you're pacing, hand me those towels there on your
left."

"But Nat, this just doesn't make sense!  You should have died!"  It was
hard for her to tell, but he seemed almost... well, more afraid than 
confused.  But that was to be expected, she supposed.  He'd had a
tremendous scare today.  He's more than due a case of the jitters.

As was she, actually.  But even the thought of trying to cope with it all
made her instantly backpedal and slam the mental door shut with a crash.  
She wrapped the blanket more tightly against her, and let her breath out 
nice and slow.  There was no way she could look at that.  Not right now.  
She'd have plenty of time to relive things later.  For the moment, there 
was still a puzzle to be solved.

She looked back up at Nick.  "You're absolutely sure you didn't bring me
across?"  With the information she had, it was the only solution.  The
only problem being that she could only hear normally, could only see 
normally, and was getting a craving for some steak right about now.  She
almost smiled to herself.  That's right, Nat.  Dumb jokes and cold logic.
Did wonders for keeping the mind occupied and out of trouble, when there 
were things you'd rather not think about.

Nick cast her an annoyed glance.  "It's not exactly something you can do
accidentally."  And she had to believe him, if only because he never got
that sarcastic unless he was really upset about something.  And he did
look honestly worried.  "I promise you, whatever this is, it's none of my
doing."

Nat sank back into the sofa and chewed her nail absently as she stared at
the floor, cursing her situation silently.  Why couldn't Nick have been a
good little vampire and brought her across?  Not the most ideal 
situation, to say the least, but it would at least have explained things 
in a nice and orderly fashion.  Now, she didn't have the faintest idea 
what had happened; she knew what the extent of her injuries were, that 
was the first thing she'd asked him, once they were out of there and she 
was getting warm again.  She shouldn't have lasted an hour, with wounds
like those.  But now, never mind being alive, you wouldn't even know
that she had even stopped for a flat tire on her way home.  She placed a
hand protectively across her stomach.  No pain, no wounds, no nothing.

To her horror, she found tears streaming down her face.  There was 
nothing she could do anymore, it was too hard, and too much, to keep
in.  So she let it all come out, all the memories, the pain, the tension, 
the fear, the confusion, and the relief, it all came crashing down, all 
at once, and she sobbed.  Nick sat down, put his arms around her, and 
didn't say a thing.  There would be time for comforting words, for 
setting things back in order, tomorrow.  Right now, she just needed to 
cry. 

***

Much later.

"I guess I just thought I might finally have the world in order, 
everything back in place.  And now I get stuck with this."  Natalie took 
the glass of orange juice offered, and paused a moment to stare at her
hand, now barely peeling from frostbite, and no longer in any sort of
pain.  Then she looked back at Nick.  "I'm not you, and I'm not what I
used to be.  But what else is there?  What have I forgotten?  What's the
missing piece I have left to find?"  Fear and tension had finally been
washed away, and left her with an acceptance, of sorts.  She was what she
was, whatever that may be.  And whatever may happen, she could deal
with things as they came.  No need to give her imagination a head start
on the matter.  But that didn't leave her without some hefty frustration
at the world in general, for making itself even more strange, just for
spite's sake.

Nick hesitated a moment before answering her.  He looked more worried now 
than ever.  What could he possibly have to be worried about?  "Nick, is 
there something you're not telling me?"  He shot a glance at her, and his 
expression darkened even more.  "Nick?  Tell me."

Unwillingly, he spoke.  "I think... I might have an idea as to what it
might be."  Natalie opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to the
punch.  "I need to make a phone call."  He launched himself off the
couch and headed for the phone on the table, but she grabbed his arm as
he passed by.  "What is it, Nick?"

He snapped, "Nat, I don't know!" He put his hand on top of hers, and
resumed in calmer tones, "I need to be sure about this before I can tell
you anything.  You have to trust me on this one."  But his fear was
beginning to feed her own again, and that she almost couldn't forgive
him for.  She closed her eyes and told herself that he wouldn't put her
through this unless he thought it was absolutely necessary.

She consciously let go of his arm, and smiled faintly.  "You know how
much I hate hanging on a limb, Nick."

He mirrored her smile and gave her a quick peck on the forehead.  "I
know.  I'll make it as short as possible, I promise."

"You'd better."

***

Over the next two months, Natalie searched on her own.  It wasn't that
she didn't trust Nick.  It was just... she couldn't just sit there on her
hands and wait for him to tell her what she needed to know.  Even if she
didn't learn anything, it would do her good just to be doing something...
anything... other than waiting.  So she did multiple tests on herself, 
even simpler than the ones she did on Nick.  He at least knew what he 
was, and had had eight hundred years experience with what he could and
couldn't do.  She had no idea where to even begin to find out things
about herself.  So she started with what she knew.  Wounds and frostbite
healed.  Nick would come in to the morgue from time to time to see her
make another tiny incision on her arm, and record the results.  It
seemed that it didn't matter where she made the mark, how deep, or how 
long.  The greater the wound, the longer it took to heal, if you could
call a matter of minutes  "long."

But after a time, she finally exhausted the basics in that area, and next
tried diseases, harmless ones, the flu and a few colds.  They had 
absolutely no effect.  Over time, she advanced to more and more
adventurous diseases, until finally she was dabbling in deadly things.  
It was then that she collapsed, for the first time since starting it 
all.  She was home at the time, fortunately, so no one saw her.  When she
reawoke, she checked the readings on the machines she had on extended 
loan from Dave, an old friend who worked in ER.

Normal, normal... then a spike, and everything flatlined, even the
brainwave monitors, all of it... until it popped back up to normal, where
it stayed.

As if nothing had ever happened.

***

And in two months' time, Natalie was walking out to her car from work.  
She'd managed to convince herself that the new model with the 
fast-heating system was purely practical, saves gas and all that.  
Someday she might even convince herself that that was the real reason she
bought it.

Just as she was turning the outer lock, a very strange sensation came 
over her.  The hairs on the back of her neck raised, just slightly, and 
she whipped around, mace in hand.

"Wait, wait!  I give up!"  The man approached her with his arms raised,
a relaxed smile on his face.  "I suppose this means you don't remember
me?"  He was handsome, early to mid-thirties, by her guess, with a
disarming British accent.  His smile faded at her blank look.  "Ah well,
that's all right.  I don't have much of a memorable face.  We met about
two years ago, over that nasty beheading business..."  He rubbed the side
of his nose absently as his face grimaced slightly in embarrassment.

A name forged its way out of Natalie's memory to fit the face, and she
smiled.  "Of course!  Adam Pierson!  How silly of me to forget.  How are
you?"	

"Very well, very well indeed."  He paused, and regarded her 
contemplatively for a moment.  "But I rather think the real question is,
how are *you*?"

Cautiously, she kept her smile in place while she tried to figure out 
what exactly he was doing here, now, asking her these questions.  "I'm 
fine."

"Are you?  Are you really?"  He continued to watch her closely, as if he 
were looking for something.

Natalie smiled wryly.  "Was that not the answer you were looking for?"

As suddenly as it appeared, the intensity vanished, and he smiled
amiably.  "You could say that.  Tell me, Natalie, when were you born?"

All right.  She would answer this one last question, then he either had 
to get somewhere with this, or she would politely duck into her car and
drive away.  "1960."

He actually had the grace to look surprised.  Then he melted into a 
kindly expression, like that of a man to his favorite grandchild. 
"Awfully young, aren't you?  Have you met any more like us?"

Now *that* was an interesting question.  "Like us?" she repeated
innocently.

Adam didn't seem to consider the question odd at all, but resumed in a
businesslike tone, "Yes, like you and I.  Have you ever had the sensation
you felt when I came near before?"

How on earth had he known that?  "No, never."  But, she reasoned, if he 
knew that, he might know other things.  And she had had little progress 
so far in ascertaining what she was.  She couldn't let an opportunity 
like this slip away so quickly.  "Perhaps you'd like to tell me about 
it?" 

Adam's face had transformed again.  Now he looked sad, and strangely
enough, profoundly resigned.  "Yes, I suppose I'll have to, won't I?"

Suddenly no longer sure she wanted to hear this news, Natalie led him
to her car.

***
	
While the two were driving, Adam asked Natalie about her past, seemingly 
insignificant things: who her parents were, how often she got broken 
bones, etc., etc.  By the time they had reached her apartment, she was 
starting to get sick of all the pussyfooting around.
	
"Look, Adam, I don't know what you think you can tell me, but I do know 
some things about myself.  I know that nonfatal things, like a bad cut, 
or a nasty disease either heal practically instantly, or don't affect me
at all.  Fatal things *appear* to kill me, but I always seem to wake up.  
Is there anything more that you can tell me?"
	
Her outburst had no outward effect, as he continued to regard her with a
wistful expression.  "More.  Much much more," was his response.  But 
before he continued, his features smoothed, like those of a man about to
confess.  "I suppose I ought to start by saying that there are more of 
us.  Immortals, I mean.  Many more."
	
"Us?  You mean like you and me?"  Natalie sat, intrigued.  "I suppose I
just never thought there would be more than one."
	
"You think you're unique in the world?"  Adam's eyebrows lifted
speculatively, and a corner of Natalie's mouth quirked against her will.
	
"Well, you have to admit, the odds that there are more of... us," she
admitted with a nod toward him, "is close enough to zero anyway..."
	
He nodded, and continued.  "No, there are more.  Some will be your 
friends, your best friends.  And some will try to kill you."
	
And so the other shoe dropped.  Natalie sighed.  There had to be a catch
in there somewhere.  There always was.
	
Adam stared at the floor hesitantly a moment, then his earnest gaze
returned to her, decision made.  He even smiled a little as he began, 
"Let me tell you a story, Natalie, about a man, a very long time ago, who
went by the name of Methos..."

***

Of course, there were parts of the story Adam (Methos) didn't tell her.
This is one.

***

The Shires of England, 1456

Nick landed softly on the new spring grass outside of town, just out of
sight of the taverns and lodges.  Dawn was near, very near, and it was
past time for him to seek shelter.  He didn't feel weary at all, but he 
knew he would be able to sleep from dawn to dusk, if he tried.  He smiled 
at his own exuberance.  It was both exhilirating and exhausing, to 
finally be on his own.  Though he suspected Lacroix was not far; it had 
taken quite some convincing on his part that he was ready to see the 
world on his own terms.  He didn't think he actually persuaded Lacroix at 
all, but that he finally conceded simply to get Nick out of his hair for 
a while.  Which was perfectly all right... he got his way in the end.  A 
fairly rare occurrance, he was learning, where Lacroix was concerned.

All of this ran through his mind as he approached the first lodge.  He
knocked politely, and when no answer was forthcoming, he stepped inside.  
It was a large stone room, many tables and chairs strewn about, with a  
center stove from which a pleasant warmth emanated.  Next to the stove 
sat a small, squat woman efficiently kneading the day's bread.  She 
glanced up momentarily at his entrance, then went back to her kneading.  
"Meal'll be ready in an hour."

Nick smiled.  "I'm not here for breakfast.  Do you have any rooms open?"

Not wanting food, she seemed to find no need to waste any more effort
on him, and didn't even look up as she replied, "Booked up last night,
and they're all still abed."

Frowning, Nick inquired, "Isn't that a little unusual, to be full this 
time of year?"  Springtime, while affording him spectacular views and
favorable winds, left the roads between towns treacherous with mud.

For some reason, that question at least seemed to regain her interest in
him.  She paused in her work to stare up at him.  "This is the week of 
the town's spring festival.  It's been planned for months.  All the 
taverns are full."  Her brow furrowed as she tried to get a better look 
at him, honestly confused.  "Why else would you be here?"

No taverns.  No shelter.  With mere minutes to spare till dawn, he worked 
to keep from panicking.  There was a solution to this problem. He merely 
had to find it.  As his mind fought madly for another plan, he muttered 
offhandedly, "I'm just passing through."

The woman nodded.  Her life, at least,  having resumed its order, she
went calmly back to kneading her bread, "Well, why don't you go on to
Devonshire, three miles south."  She pointed.  "They had rooms open
yesterday, so I hear.  You should have no trouble."

"Here, even the stables are packed."  She shook her head in astonishment, 
then smiled with pride.  "It will be a good festival.  You should stay to 
come and join us."

Three miles was a mere eyeblink of time by air.  It was an eyeblink he
didn't have.  Eyes wide, he still tried to grasp the enormity of his 
mistake.  "No room at all?"

"None."  He had a problem.  To even dig himself a hole would take time, 
too much time...

... for dawn touched the land, and his time ran out.

He bolted out of the tavern, mercifully facing west, not east, and came 
up short at the sharp shadows of light and dark that the buildings made
against the land.  Fortunately, with dawn just breaking, they were still
very long, and he was able to make it to the far side of the street 
quickly.  He slipped behind the nearest house, now at least out of sight 
of the main road through town.

But what to do now?  He could either enter a building, or dig himself a
hole in the dirt.  Digging was fairly out of the question, so close to
civilization, and curious dogs.  Which left entering a building.  House 
or lodge?  Lodges had more people, which meant it would be harder to
keep himself out of sight, out of light, for the whole day without being
noticed.  Houses had less people, more room, but more of a likelihood
that they would be noticed if they were suddenly forced to go "missing."

Nick eyed the rapidly shortening shadows, and made his decision.  It
would be a house, and it would have to be now.  He chose one close to
him, and managed to get behind it fairly quickly, racing across the
lighted spaces between houses and pausing each time to wait a moment
for the burns to heal.  And just as he was about to lay his hand on the
door to sneak inside, a voice came up behind him:

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Nick spun around and snarled.  Someone had been watching him! 
Fortunately, the fool was in shadow.  Easy enough prey.

The other continued, seemingly oblivious to his danger.  "You see, that's
a church you were about to march into.  Not the most pleasant place to 
spend the day, I hear."

Oblivious to the man's jabbering, Nick launched himself at him.  But
somehow the other was already in the process of pulling out his sword
so that, though Nick was obviously faster, he was met with a leveled
blade.  Sinking his teeth into the other's throat meant slicing open his 
own, that much was obvious.

To his astonishment, his prey looked actually amused.  "Jittery thing,
aren't you?  Finished?"

Nick's eyes flared from gold to red, as insult was added to injury.  
"No," he rasped, and disappeared from the other's view, to instantly grab 
him from behind and yank his head to the side, for best access to his  
jugular.  It was at just that moment that he was impaled by his prey's 
sword. 

As he sank to the ground in pain, he felt the sword touch his neck. The
stranger continued conversationally, as if he'd never been interrupted,
"You know, I've always said that vampires enjoy killing far too much.
Get so caught up in it, they sometimes forget that their prey isn't dead
yet."

Calmly, he sheathed his sword, smoothly took off the thick hooded cloak
he was wearing, and offered it to Nick.  And for the first time, Nick
looked at his enemy's face, and saw warm eyes smiling down at him.
"My name is Methos.  Come with me, and we'll find you some shelter."

Some friendships are born quite strangely.  This one went quite tamely, 
in comparison.

***

Unfortunately, Natalie wasn't buying.  As a matter of fact, she was
laughing.  Not a good start.  "What?  Are you kidding me?  People running 
around after each other, trying to cut each other's heads off?  You're 
crazy!" 

Adam shook his head, and continued earnestly, "I'm not.  So it's weird,
it's bizarre, it's stranger than what you're used to.  So is waking up 
from the dead!"  He smiled.  "Is this really so different, when you 
think about it?"

A good point, she thought, "...But this is insane!  I'm not some kung-fu
ninja, battling evil!"  She waved her arms around, same as everyone when 
talking about kung-fu ninjas.  "I'm a doctor.  My job, loosely," she 
admitted, "is to heal people, not kill them.  Can't I just refuse to 
fight?" 

Always the first question, it seemed.  And the hardest decision.  Adam
sighed.  "We cannot fight on holy ground.  Ever.  If that is your choice,
you can spend your whole life in a monastery somewhere, and no immortal 
will be  able to touch you."

"A monastery?  For the rest of my eternal life."  Natalie wrinkled her
nose at the thought.  "Not a chance."
	
"Well, before you decide anything, I think you'd better call Nick."  Adam
repressed a small smile.  "If I recall correctly, he'll be none too 
pleased at this little crimp in his lifestyle..."

***

Belgium, 1477

A very grand and lustrous hall, with crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets,
and food on every table.  That was how Nicholas had always imagined the 
throne room of the Habsburgs of Austria.  Quite unlike the scene before 
him. 

Stone benches rivaled the floor for coldness.  The tables were stone 
also, covered in stained linen which once might have been white, but he
couldn't say for sure.  A few dogs sat at the foot of the throne, 
unceasingly hunting fleas.  There was food everywhere, he had at least 
got that right.  On the tables, the floor... God only knew the last time 
they had cleaned the place.  The windows were grand and quite ornate,
almost worth the trip, but for the moment they seemed to add to the chill 
of the windy evening with their tall splendor.
	
"You'd think such a wise man as a duke would have the sense to pick a 
small room to sit in on a night like this.  A room this size would need 
a funeral pyre to warm."  Methos murmured in his ear, and Nicholas' mouth 
shifted ever so slightly upward.

"And I was so looking forward to this..."

"I did try to tell you.  You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up.  
Royalty are just people, too, Nicholas.  Don't assume anything else."  
It was then that the duke took notice of them, and they approached the 
throne.

"My daughter arrived well to Ghistele?"

The two exchanged glances.  Methos was the one to speak.  "Yes, my lord.  
Quite well.  She sends you her regards."  With a deferential bow, he 
handed the duke a slip of parchment, merely a few words, a token to show  
that his daughter had arrived safely.

The duke seemed pleased.  "Very well.  Your payment for service."  He
motioned to one of his aides, who slipped away a moment, then reappeared 
with two small bags.  The two accepted the money, bowed low, and turned 
to go.

Just as they reached the door, a messenger arrived.  He wore the colors 
of Ghistele.  Nick glanced at Methos, alarmed, but the other walked 
confidently out, looking neither left nor right, calm as ever.  That 
didn't keep them from walking as quickly as they could for their 
horses.  It was only at the shout of "Guards!"  that they broke into a 
run. 

"Nicholas!  Wait for me!"  Methos raced through the muddy streets, with 
what seemed to be half the town at his heels.  He had no idea how quickly 
news of bounty spread here, or he would have made sure the horses were 
nearer.  Of course, it didn't help that the watchtowers were all shouting 
the news...

Nicholas, finally on horseback, spared a moment to glance behind him,  
reigns in one hand, the spare horse in the other.  "Methos!  Hurry up,
they're gaining!"

"You think I don't know that?"  Methos swung up on his horse, and the
two galloped full speed for the docks, leaving the crowd of townspeople
in their dust.

The two made it to their ship with only minutes to spare.  "Methos,"
Nicholas muttered,  "exactly how is it that I get into these situations 
with you?  As if Cairo weren't enough!"

"What can I say?"  Methos yawned mightily, and stretched.  "You're 
destined to live an interesting life."  Relaxing into his bed, he sighed 
in contentment.  "Cheer up.  We got away, money in hand, and none the
worse for wear.  What's the problem?"

Nick stared at him, incredulous.  "The problem!  The problem, is that we
were contracted to transport the girl, not to steal her away!"

Methos waved a hand carelessly at him.  "Bah.  The Duke's got more 
daughters than even he can marry off in a  lifetime.  Besides, he'd never
think to look for her in that godforsaken  hole we left her in.  Why such
a beautiful girl would choose a pig herder to love..." he shrugged, "but,
who am I to judge?"  He raised his eyebrows at Nick's  disapproving 
look.  "He won't miss her a bit, I promise you.  And like I  said, we got
away."

Nick looked singularly exasperated, and shook his head in defeat.  "Mark
my words, Methos, if I never meet another immortal, it will be too soon."

***

When he came out of the memory, Adam was losing the battle to keep from 
smiling.  "No, I  don't think Nicholas will like this idea at all..."

Natalie made a sudden connection.  "Was it you that he needed to call?"
She hadn't ever thought Nick's quick solution would come to anything.
She just assumed it was some potion she had to breathe on, that would
turn green if she were one  thing, purple if she were something else.
Teach her to make bad assumptions...

He nodded.  "Nicholas and I go way back.  He wanted me to come and
take a look at you.  To see if you were one of us, or just a fluke of 
nature, unique, like you thought.  He was right to call."

Natalie absently shook her head.  "Why, why, *why* doesn't Nick ever
tell me these things?  This could've saved me two months of worry."
What was he thinking?

Adam's face became quite serious.  "He was being careful.  If it had
turned out that you weren't an Immortal, I would have just kept on
walking through that parking lot, and you never would  have heard
about us.  It should be obvious why we're so secretive.  Our community
is nearly as hated, on the whole, as vampires.  Immortality is  something
some people would give anything," his expression sent a chill down 
Natalie's spine, "*anything*, to put in a bottle.  Even the worst of us
knows the danger in letting our presence be known.  It's in our own self-
interest to keep quiet."

Natalie nodded thoughtfully.  "I guess I'd better call Nick."

"Nick?  Yeah, it's Natalie.  I have a friend here who wants to see you.
An old friend."  She paused a moment, then whispered to Adam, "How old?"

He strained to remember how old he'd told Nicholas he was... he was
sure it wasn't the full five thousand.  He'd already learned by then that
people tended to die when he told them his real age.  Being the oldest of
the Immortals sounded impressive, but invariably was the worst kind of
nuisance... damn, when was it that he met Nicholas, anyhow?  Ah well... 
he made a stab at what he thought was a good number.

He whispered it into her ear, and Natalie nearly dropped the receiver.
Giving him an impressive awestruck stare, she spoke quite clearly into
the phone.  "Twenty five hundred years."

There was silence a moment, then Natalie stared at the receiver in
confusion.  "He said he'd be by tomorrow.  Something about greeting
you appropriately."
	
Adam wrinkled his nose in disgust.  "Oh, for God's sake.  He's *still* 
in a huff over Cairo, is he?"

***

Outside of Cairo, 1460

Two figures raced madly across the desert in the last hour before dawn. 
Their horses were sagging as they ran, but they kept at full speed, 
trying desperately to outrun the sun.

"Where is that oasis you promised me, Methos?"

"It's just over that dune there."

"And it has shelter?"

"Kept me out of the wind many a time."  Methos rolled his eyes slightly
at his friend's urgency.  "Don't *worry*, Nicholas.  We'll reach it 
before the sun rises, with time to spare."

They plowed their way to the top of yet another sand dune.  No oasis.
No shelter.  Nicholas muttered through gritted teeth, "You were saying?"

Methos frowned uncertainly.  "Well, I know it's around here somewhere..."

"The sun, Methos, the SUN!"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking!"  Methos waved him off, concentrating.
Suddenly he took off in a new direction.  "Well, come on, then.  Do you
want to stay in solid form or not?" he called over his shoulder.  
Nicholas spurred his ragged mare after him.

Once he'd gotten within shouting distance, Nick started in on his
companion.  "You said it would only take half a night to get to this 
place, Methos!"

"Well," he responded practically, "who was the one who decided to get
ragingly thirsty in the  middle of nowhere and spend two hours digging
up sand snakes?  That does tend to lengthen the journey, you know."

Nick was flabbergasted, as usual.  "Well, why didn't you say something
before?"

"I make it a point never to come between a vampire and his dinner, 
Nicholas,"  was the dry response.  "Just one of those rules of thumb that
have kept me alive."

Nicholas was finally able to catch up completely to Methos' horse, made
considerably easier through the fact that Methos had stopped at the top
of the most recent dune.  He gestured, an 'I told you so' look written 
all over his face.  A small clay hut squatted next to a muddy pool.  
"See?  I knew I'd find it eventually.  And even a good..." he peered at 
the horizon while Nicholas' horse swept past him and he dove headlong,
straight from the saddle, through the window, "... thirty seconds before
dawn.  Perfect timing."  He dismounted and led his horse as he meandered 
down to the waterhole.

After making sure both horses had had enough to drink, he peeked inside 
to see how Nicholas was doing.  He looked none too well: groggy, 
disoriented.  Not to mention belligerent.

Methos' expression went from confused..."No, Nicholas, this isn't a
church.  It's a Muslim shrine."

To exasperated... "Well, how am I supposed to know that?  I thought it
was just a Christian thing."

To derisive... "Well, you don't expect me to hole up anywhere else but
on holy ground, do you?  Don't be silly."

To annoyed.  "Oh, do stop whining, Nicholas.  You'll live until the sun
goes down."

By the time they made it to the coast, Methos was filthy from head to toe
with sand from digging, and he'd nearly died of sand snake poison twice.
But Nicholas had forgiven him.

Or so he'd thought.

***

As he expected, Adam awoke with a sword at his throat.  "Get up."
Nicholas' features were as cold as he'd ever seen them.  But his eyes
betrayed him.

"Nicholas..."  Adam looked at him reproachfully.

"I said get up!"  The blade inched closer to his jugular.

"All right, all right!"  Adam slowly raised himself from the bed.  He'd
managed to find a hotel room, even as late as it was, and had made sure
Nicholas had gotten the address.  No need for him to come barging into
Natalie's apartment, sword swinging.  "Hasn't anyone ever told you that
life's too short to hold a grudge?"  A sword whipped out from under his
pillow to meet Nick's, disappointment lacing his tone.  "I bet you
haven't even held that thing for two hundred years.  Exactly what are
you trying to tell me?  You're still as much a fool as you were when I
knew you?"

"A fool, am I?"  Nick thrust forward, parried, spun... and was disarmed
in about two seconds flat.  Adam's sword came to a stop not more than an 
inch from his neck.

"A fool."

Nick smiled wickedly.  "Perhaps, but I'm still faster!"  Adam blinked,
and he was gone.  Without moving his eyes or his body, he swung his
sword in a wide arc over his head, to thrust it behind him at just the
right moment.  Nick skidded to a stop mere inches before impaling
himself.

Adam shook his head reproachfully, still facing forward, away from
Nick.  "You're also still predictable."

"You didn't think so the last time I tried that little trick."

Adam rolled his eyes.  "The point is to grow, Nicholas.  You should try 
it sometime.  I think you might like it."

Nick snorted derisively.  "You should talk.  And speaking of talking,
why didn't you *tell* me Natalie was an Immortal last time you were
here?  What, did it slip your mind?"

Adam tried hard to look remorseful.  "Surprise."

The look on Nick's face was worth the two years' wait.  "What?"

"Well, I knew you'd call when the time came.  She wasn't in any real
danger."  Nick's eyes were narrowed, and he thought he saw an edge of
gold to them.  Bad news.  "She wasn't!  Nicholas, don't you trust me?"

Nick shook his head slowly as he advanced slowly on Adam.  "Trust you?  
Trust you!  Every time in my entire life I have trusted you has turned 
out to be a complete nightmare!"

Adam shook his head and replied soothingly, "You're exaggerating."

"Am I?  I don't think so!"

A good highlight came to mind.  "I saved your life!"

"*After* you tried to kill me!"  Nick finally cornered him against one
wall.  "Give me one, just one, good reason why I should trust you."

"You're destined to live an interesting life, Nicholas.  Haven't I always
told you that?"  Totally and completely unflappable.  Nick never 
understood how he did it.

The gold melted out of his eyes, and he sighed the sigh of the long-
suffering.  "You know, I really am going to kill you one of these days."

Adam amiably clapped him on the back.  "Take a number, and pull up a 
chair.  You'll have a long wait ahead of you."

***

Adam went to talk to Natalie again later that day.  Decisions had to be
made, before other Immortals found them.  Something to be avoided at all 
costs, for both their sakes.  "Well, Natalie, the way I see it, you have
two choices.  You can either train to fight, or we can find somewhere for
you to be safe."  Safe was such an easy word to use.  It was  simple to
forget how close safety was at hand, sometimes.  It wasn't something one
felt all that often, in their life.  But he didn't want to scare her.  
She would learn all the rest too soon, anyway.  This would have to be 
spread out as long as possible, if he had anything to do with it.  He'd 
seen a few go mad, simply from too much, too soon.  She seemed fairly 
strong, but it was when you started pushing that accidents happened.

Adam fiddled with his sword, pretending to clean it.  Might as well at
least get her used to the sight of them, even if she did decide not to 
use one.  He laid it on the ground.  "Teaching you how to use a sword
shouldn't take more than a few years, if you put the effort into it.
Finding a safe place will be even easier."  He made sure to catch her 
eye, before he continued.  "The only thing is, if you do decide to stay 
on holy ground for safety, you have to be careful never to leave it.  If 
you ever decide you want to go back into the world, you'll need to get in 
touch with me, so you can learn fighting then."

Natalie frowned, and chewed her nail.  At Adam's inquiring look, she
tried to explain, "I don't like this at all.  It feels like I'm being...
crowded into a corner, or something.  Like I don't have any choices of my 
own anymore.  I hate being so... trapped."

"It all depends on your perspective."  Adam reclined back in his chair.
"It may seem all cut and dry at first, but once you make a few initial
decisions, you're home free.  You have the rest of eternity to figure out
what you want to do, and you can change your mind as many times as you 
like."  He shrugged, and looked amused.  "I can't even remember how many 
professions I've tried."  His face suddenly lit into a smile. "You know, 
I was even a doctor once."

Natalie smiled back, intrigued.  "Really?"

"Yeah.  I wasn't even half bad at it, as I recall."  He caught himself 
staring into nothing, and his expression turned mock-sorrowful.  "But I 
made a *horrible*  blacksmith."  Natalie laughed.  "I'm serious!  I can't 
tell you how many times I got kicked in the head by those damned 
high-strung fillies..." he shook his head to forestall the memory, "but, 
that's a story for another time."  He clapped his hands together in 
conviction.  "Now, it's time to eat!"

Natalie was astounded.  "You're hungry?"

"Starved!  I haven't eaten a thing since this morning."  Adam was already 
on his way to the phone.  "Do you like Chinese?"

Natalie was still getting over the small hurdle of an eating immortal. 
"Uh... yeah.  Sure."  He's not a vampire, Nat.  Neither are you.  And
never the twain shall meet.  Remember that.

The food came in no time, and Natalie realized how long it had been
since she'd eaten, as well.  As they both scarfed their food hungrily,
Natalie got back on the original track of their conversation.

"So I can't leave holy ground unless I'm ready to kill other Immortals?"

Adam was sympathetic, but resolute.  "Yes."

She snorted.  "A simple answer."

Adam shrugged nonchalantly.  "A simple question."  He leaned forward,
and laid his hand on hers reassuringly.  "And a choice we all had to make
sometime."

Adam's sword lay next to the sofa in a spot where it could be 
conveniently kicked out of sight if unexpected company came.  Natalie
took a long, hard look at it, thinking.  Finally she approached it, and
tried to pick it up, without much success.  She peered at it, as if she
might find instructions written on the side.  "How do you hold this thing 
again?"

"Here."  He stood next to her and gripped the sword.  "With these  
monsters it's not so much a matter of holding as of lifting."  He let it 
go and took a step back.  "Go on.  Try it."

Adam looked confident, but Natalie was far from reassured.  She tried
lifting her arms, but the point remained firmly on the ground.  And no
amount of struggling with it was going to bring it up.  Her wrists just
weren't strong enough.  Adam looked just a little too bemused; it was
starting to get on her nerves.  She tried one last jerk with her wrist, 
and was rewarded with the tip of the blade sailing up...

... And sailing back down directly for her face.  She swerved out of the
way with a squeak, just in the nick of time, and the sword whistled by  
her nose to embed itself in the carpet with a loud thunk.

Natalie looked back to Adam, her look half-despairing, half-amused.  
"This is not working."

"I've seen worse."  Ugh.  Was he *still* cheerful?  "You held onto the
hilt, so at least it didn't go crashing into your furniture.  That's a 
good sign."  He smiled.  "You'll do fine."

She looked at him accusingly.  "You're a morning person, aren't you?"

"Hmm?"

Natalie sighed.  "Never mind."  She spared a glance at her watch, and 
groaned.  "Oh, I've got to go to work!  If I'm late again, Grace is going 
to kill me!"

"Work?"  Adam rechecked his watch.  "But it's nearly eight!"

Natalie smiled wearily.  "Night shift."

Adam gave her a mock disapproving look as he picked up his coat, the
sword magically disappearing in its folds.  "You shouldn't let vampires
run your life, Natalie.  Give them an inch, and they'll walk all over
you."

She laughed as they walked out the door.  "Tell me something I don't
know!"

***

"Hey, Nick."  Without looking up from her microscope, Natalie waved
the file in her hand.  "The results on the Mendelssohn case."  She
looked up at him, and handed it over.  "Definitely a suicide.  Nothing
you guys have to worry about."

He smiled.  "Good."  He reached out to put an arm around her waist. "And 
how are you?"

Her smile was just a little hard.  "I'm fine."  Exactly how many times 
was she going to have to say that?  "I'm just a little tired."  She 
tried the smile again, and was a bit more forgiving this time.  "I had a 
lot to think about last night."

"Oh?  And what were you thinking about?"

"Ohh, I don't know.  Lots of things."  She looked back in the microscope,
and fiddled with the knobs for no apparent reason.  "For instance... I
can't help thinking..."  She looked back up and turned to face him.  "I
just wish I could have been able to give this to someone else."  Her face
was terribly remorseful.  "I mean, if Schanke, or Cohen, had been  
immortal, instead of me..."

Nick put his hands on her shoulders reassuringly.  "They died human, 
Nat.  They're better off than the pair of us together."

Yes, they didn't have to watch us die, like we did them.  They were 
saved, at least, from that.  But from the look on Nick's face, that 
wasn't what he meant.  Not at all.  "Wait.  What is that supposed to 
mean?" 

He seemed to think the answer was obvious.  "Natalie, you're going to
be out there by yourself in only a matter of years.  Haven't you thought
about what that's going to mean?"  He almost laughed at her naivete. 
"You're not going to have Adam to protect you.  You're going to have to
fight, to kill, to stay alive.  Unless you've decided to stay  on holy
ground."  She shook her head numbly, staring at him as if she'd never
seen him before.  He looked profoundly disappointed.  "You're going to
be killing people for a living, just like the rest of them."

She felt her jaw fall open in surprise.  Funny.  She'd always thought 
that just happened in stories.  "I am going to do what I have to to 
survive, and I will not apologize for it!" she replied hotly.

Nick shook his head wisely down at her, from atop his moral high ground.  
"So what makes us different, hmm?"

Natalie glared at him.  She knew where he was going with this.  And there 
was no way she was going to let him get away with it.  "Oh no, you 
don't!  Don't you throw your guilt complexes on *my* shoulders!  I didn't 
choose to be this way!"

Wrong point to stress.  Wrong wrong.  "Yes, you did.  The moment you
decided to fight instead of choosing the safety of the church."

Nick, don't do this.  Don't do this to me.  "I am *not* going to spend 
the rest of eternity behind closed doors so you can feel better about 
yourself!"

"This isn't about me, Nat.  This is about you and your eternal soul."

The straw that broke the camel's back.  Such a tiny thing, it was. 
Natalie's face reddened with fury.  "Don't even try to feed me that crap,
Nick!  This is entirely about you, and you know it!  Personally, I don't
think my soul is going to be damned for trying to survive.  If it were a
sin to want to live, humanity wouldn't have gotten this far!  You can 
feel sorry for yourself until the sun falls out of the sky if you like, 
but don't you *dare* pull me down with you!"

"Natalie," he soothed, as if to a rebellious child.

She was far too angry to care.  "Out."

He stood there a moment longer, and looked stubborn.

"OUT!"

It was only when a keyboard flew at his head that he actually left.  And 
it was only when he left that she realized how hard she was shaking.

No matter how bad things got, in the years that they had known each 
other, he had never lost faith in her.  Sure, he'd thought she was wrong
about this or that, and he didn't always follow her advice, but he had
always, always had faith in her.  She had thought that it was her, and 
not her humanity, he had put his faith in.

She even fooled herself into believing that it was really her that he had
loved.

Her fingers found the phone far too easily.  Punching the number was 
even easier.  It almost made even her a believer in the tide of destiny.
She took a deep breath, and cleared her throat so her voice wouldn't 
shake. 

"Adam?"  She halfheartedly smiled.  "Nothing.  How soon do you think we 
can leave?"  Pause.  "I told you, nothing."  Pause.  "I can tender my 
resignation tonight."  Pause, and another deep breath.  "Yes, I'm sure."
Pause.  "Fine.  I'll see you at my apartment.  We can catch a taxi to the
airport together."

She hung up.

***

Nick hesitantly knocked on the door.  "Natalie?  Natalie!"  He sighed.
He had really put his foot in it this time.  He knew he shouldn't have
been quite so hard on her, it was just that she didn't realize what it 
was she was getting into.  How the choices she was making now would 
affect her whole life.  If he could just talk to her, without any 
screaming this time, he was sure he could make her understand what the 
obvious choice, the only choice, could be.  But he couldn't let her stay 
like this.  She was strong, far stronger than he was, she could stay 
clean of evil if she tried.  All he had to do was make her understand.

He heard  Adam through the door.  "Natalie, why don't you at least try to 
talk to him?"

Natalie's response made him wince.  "We have nothing to say to each 
other." 

He tried to peek through her window, and saw that she was busily stuffing 
random things into bags.  Adam was helping her, under mild protest.  He 
looked Nick's way, and shook his head slightly.  But whether it was in 
warning, or an admission of defeat, he couldn't tell.  Then he returned 
to his efforts, trying to cheer Natalie up.

"Natalie, you aren't going to need all these... things.  This isn't the 
Girl Guides, you know.  You don't need to 'be prepared.'"

She smiled wanly.  "I know.  I just want to take a few more things..."

Adam sighed, and checked his watch.  "We'll take whatever you can pack 
into those bags in the next five minutes.  Then we have to leave, or 
we'll miss our flight."

"You shouldn't have said that."  Natalie returned with another armful
of clothes, wearing a real smile for once, if only briefly.  "You're 
looking at a champion packer."

He pointed a finger at her.  "You're carrying your own bags, missy.  Just
remember that."

She pointed back at him, a fierce look in her eye.  "And I always will."

It was then, unfortunately, that Nick decided to step through the 
window.  "Where are you going, Nat?"  She whipped around and her face 
darkened even more noticeably.

"It's none of your concern anymore," she spat.

"Natalie, don't say that."  But she had already turned her back to him,
and was violently shoving things into yet another bag.  "Please, Nat, I
just want to talk to you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adam edging for the door.
Apparently she did too, because her hand whipped out to point at him.
"Don't you go anywhere.  We've only got five minutes."

"I'll be back in ten.  Bye!"  The door slammed shut behind him before
Natalie could say a word.

She glared at the door a moment, then turned to continue her packing
without looking at Nick.  "I really don't know what we have to talk
about, but if you feel like talking, knock yourself out."

Nick frowned thoughtfully.  This was not going to be easy.  "Natalie, I'm
sorry I yelled at you.  It was out of line."  He was rewarded by her 
turning to face him and crossing her arms in front of her chest.  She 
didn't look anywhere near convinced, but at least she was listening.  "I 
was worried about you.  I just don't want you to get hurt."

Natalie looked very, very tired as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"Nick, I'm sorry if you haven't noticed, but I really can take care of
myself.  I know you think this is important, but what we have here is a
difference of opinion, nothing more."

"But, Nat, you don't understand..."

Her patience slipped.  "I understand completely!  It's you who doesn't
understand!"  She took a deep breath, and continued in more normal tones, 
"I am not going to try to live by your rules, just so you can have 
another scapegoat to hate when I fail, Nick.  I won't, for your own good,
as well as mine."

He looked at her with complete and utter faith, a look that made her want 
to tear her own heart out.  "You won't fail.  You'd never fail."

She could feel the tears streaming down her face, to fall heavily to the
floor.  "Oh, Nick.  Don't you see?  I already have."  She picked up her
bags quickly, then paused a moment at the door to look back at him, so
lost and alone.  "I already have."

***

Nick eventually made it back to the loft before morning struck.  He
couldn't remember where he'd left the caddy; he'd spent hours driving
that night, even more walking.  No aim, no purpose.  He smiled bitterly.
A fine metaphor for his life, at the moment.  But it seemed like all the
time in the world would not be enough to decide what his next step should 
be. 

He could chase Natalie down, find out where she was hiding and *make* her 
listen... but that would only drive her farther away.  Right now, what 
she needed most was some time to herself.  Time to think.  Besides, even 
if he did find her, she had already made up her mind.

And he knew Natalie.  A tender smile inadvertently lit his face.  Once 
she had made up her mind, God help whoever tried to tell her different.

God help her.

He brushed the tears impatiently from his face, and rose to get a bottle
from the fridge.

"Surely you knew this would happen, Nicholas," Lacroix spoke from behind 
him.  "At some point, she was destined to move on, and leave you here 
alone." 

Nick was in no mood to hear this.  "Get out," he snarled, without turning 
to look at him.

"You didn't really want her to stay and waste her life waiting for you, 
did you?"

Nick continued to stare stonily at the floor.  Minutes passed.  Finally, 
he muttered, "No.  Of course not."

"She's gone and made a better life for herself.  You should be happy."

Nick spun around and glared at his mocking conscience.  "What do you
care?" he spat.  "She means nothing to you."

To his surprise, Lacroix had no arrogant smile, no smugly lifted brow.
"Ah, but she means everything to *you*, Nicholas.  And that is what 
matters to me."

"Yes, well, your concern is touching, but unnecessary.  What are you
really here for?"

"Merely to keep you company."  At Nick's cringe, he snapped, "It's only
till sunset, Nicholas.  Surely you can bear my presence for that long."
Just as quickly, his features smoothed.  "I didn't think you should be 
alone today.  I wanted to be sure you didn't do anything... rash.  I 
recall how despondent you were over that dancer, Sylvaine..."

So quickly did Nicholas attack, Lacroix didn't even see him coming.  One
moment he was talking, the next he found himself flying across the room, 
crashing heavily into the wall above the fireplace.  "Don't ever, EVER 
speak that name to me, Lacroix!  You don't have the right!"  Nick was 
incandescent with rage.

Faster than the eye could see, Lacroix had Nicholas by the throat, his 
eyes yellow as well.  Bringing Nicholas' face about two inches from his 
own, he snarled, "You will be *silent*, boy, while I'm trying to 
apologize!" 

Stunned, Nick sank into the chair he'd been thrown into and stared while 
Lacroix crossed his arms, frowning, and looked profoundly annoyed.

"Whatever you may think of me, Nicholas, it was not my intention to drive 
you away.  I was trying to do you a favor."  Lacroix calmly withstood 
Nick's murderous glare.  "I had seen that you were beginning to fall in 
love with her, someone you had never even met."  He frowned, even in the 
memory.  "I had hoped to forestall your infatuation before it took  
root."  His frown grew more pronounced, almost a grimace, as he looked 
to the far wall.  "I was wrong."

But when he looked back at Nicholas, his face was still and calm.  "She
would have left you, eventually.  I knew, even if you were too blind to
see.  New horizons would catch her eye, and she would be gone.  Just like 
Natalie.  And Janette."

Nick abruptly rose and stood before the window, watching the skyline glow 
with the coming of morning.  And as Lacroix came up to watch silently 
beside him, the words he didn't say echoed in Nick's mind.  But I would 
never leave you, Nicholas.  Never.

And as he watched the sky swell brighter and brighter, Nick wasn't sure
if he should be furious, or glad.

He decided to be glad.

***

One month later.

It had taken her a full week to keep the tip up for any amount of time,
and she felt perfectly arthritic with pain the first few days she tried.  
But Natalie was slowly making progress, hounded unmercifully by Adam, who 
appeared without fail at her bedside every morning at five sharp, coffee 
in hand.  Actually, switching from a night  schedule to a day schedule 
was simplicity itself, as it turned out.  Skip over a few time zones, and 
you're done.  Not that Scotland days were all that spectacular: it was 
cloudy and cool nine times out of ten, and the ground hadn't dried out 
yet from the melted snow, so the road to town was still totally 
impossible. 

But she couldn't argue with Adam's logic for being far away from 
civilization right now, to cut down distractions, Immortal or otherwise.
"Not good for PR to have the locals watch us crashing about with swords, 
now is it?"

She was even able to swing the stupid thing now with some semblance of 
control.  She smiled, remembering her first few tries; spectacular  
disasters that sent Adam diving for the ground, sword flying wildly off 
in some direction.  But he never got upset at failure, and refused to let
her, either.  His patience would eventually start to irritate her, if he
didn't offset things with the occaisional story of someone else, usually
him, who had done something far more spectacularly stupid at one time or 
another.  She was fairly sure he made them up on the spot, but that 
didn't keep them from making her laugh.  As time went on, they were 
getting more and more used to each other's quirks, and she actually found 
herself beginning to look forward to the future.

"Enjoying the view?"

She turned and smiled.  "Absolutely.  How did you find this place?"

"A friend of mine recommended it."  He smiled wryly.  "Even if I did 
remember where I learned to fight, it's undoubtedly covered by a shopping 
mall or some other ghastly thing by now.  One of the few things progress 
is not good for."

She smiled up at him, then returned to watching the view.  Suddenly she 
pointed.  "Look, there's the sunrise."  Clouds did make for spectacular 
sunrises and sunsets.  She learned that early, as well.   For a while, 
she simply sat and enjoyed the beauty of the moment.  Every morning, 
though, the sunrise inevitably reminded her of Nick.

The next time Adam looked down at her, she wasn't even looking at the
sunrise anymore.  Her face had saddened considerably in the morning light 
as she stared into nothing.  Adam sighed.  It didn't take a mind reader 
to figure out what she was thinking about.  Or who.  Seemingly of its own 
volition, his hand fell lightly to her shoulder.  "You won't feel this 
way forever, you know.  I know it's kind of cliche, but absence really 
does make the heart grow fonder."  He smiled gently.  "In a few decades,
you may run across one another, and have a good laugh over it all.  
Life's too short to hold a grudge, Natalie.  Even for us."

Natalie sighed, smiled gratefully up at him, laid her hand over his own, 
and looked back at the horizon.  "I hope you're right."

"I am.  Trust me."  The two stood for a moment more, and watched the sun 
lift into the sky, before going back inside to start another day.

***

The lone figure swept through the airport, a small cloud of darkness 
against all the bright lights.  It was too warm inside the terminal, the 
heaters had yet to be adjusted from last week's cold spell, but she 
seemed perfectly comfortable in the heavy cloak with its deep hood 
obscuring her face.  She had little luggage, only a small purse on her 
shoulder.  She coolly scanned the crowd, but she recognized no one, and 
none seemed to take any interest in her.  Good.

Her limo was waiting for her when she stepped outside.  She didn't 
hesitate, but stepped quickly in.  She prepared to give directions to the
driver, when he turned to her, and she sank into the back seat in alarm.

"Janette," Lacroix murmured, "don't you know it's polite to call before
dropping by to visit?"

Recovering quickly from her initial reaction, Janette calmly took off her
dark concealing sunglasses, and began to remove her gloves. "How did you 
know I was coming?"

He gestured vaguely around him.  "Your taste has always given you away."

She smiled luxuriously for a moment.  "Ah yes.  I had thought it might be 
fun to come back in style."

"Which begs the obvious question, Janette," and she heard as well as felt
the edge in his voice, "why have you come back at all?"

"You no longer have a hold over me, Lacroix.  Don't you keep abreast of 
these things?"  Could Lacroix possibly not know his own mistake?  From
the moment she heard of it through their small grapevine, she had 
intended to make the most of it.  It seems she would have ample 
opportunity.  He should have known he wouldn't be able to hold her for
long...

***

Toronto, one year ago.

"Janette."  That was all she needed to hear, even in the noise of the 
Raven, to know it was him.  She turned, and was studiously unsurprised.  
He always enjoyed it when his children pretended to predict him.  She 
motioned silently for Lacroix to follow her to the office behind the 
club. 

She passed through the door without stopping, immediately opening a new 
bottle, allowing Lacroix to shut the door behind him.  Once she had 
poured him a glass, and one for herself, she finally spoke.  "So.  To 
what do I owe the pleasure?"

Lacroix sipped at his drink for a moment before answering.  "I would 
ask... a favor of you."  He set his drink down.  "I want you to leave 
Toronto."

A slight widening of the eyes.  Surely he wouldn't notice.  "That is 
quite a thing to ask.  I have connections here, a place, people who 
depend on my services..."

Lacroix nodded, having anticipated the counter.  "They will be cared for.
If necessary, I will run the Raven in your absence."  He caught her eye 
and gazed at her intently to emphasize the importance of his words.  "But 
you must leave quickly, and under no circumstances will you tell him 
neither that you are leaving, nor where you will go."

Caught in the middle again.  Janette frowned.  There was only one reason 
for her to be required to leave without notice.  Lacroix was scheming 
again.  For once, it wasn't hard to look bored.  "What do you have in  
mind this time, hmm?  Are you going to try to force him to leave again?"  
She smiled.  "As I recall, your last attempt was something less than a 
success."  She knew she would regret the words, but it was too much of a 
temptation.  Lacroix so rarely failed, it was an occasion to be 
remembered. 

But, surprisingly, Lacroix wasn't angry.  He even smiled, and Janette 
began to feel the first threads of worry.  He must be very confident of 
his plan indeed, to be in this good a mood.  "Nothing of the sort.  
Nicholas has already set himself up for a fall.  I merely plan to be 
there to watch it happen."

Janette set her glass down, puzzled.  "What are you talking about?  What
fall?"

"Surely you've noticed how he dotes on that girl... Natalie, I think."

"Of course."  Janette didn't like where this was going.  She knew 
perfectly well how much she meant to Nicola, no matter how much she might 
wish otherwise.  "You're not going to kill her, are you?"  She shook her 
head in irritation.  Sloppy.  That couldn't be what he was planning.  
"He'll hate you all the more for it, make no mistake."

Lacroix snorted in disgust.  "No, of course not.  Why should I do 
anything, but let time take it's course?"  He was already smiling again.  
It had been at least fifty years since she'd seen him so pleased with 
himself.  "The result will be the same, and he won't have a reason in the 
world to place the blame on me.  Because this time, I will have had 
nothing to do with his misery.  All I have to do, is be there to pick up 
the pieces."

"You want him to fall in love with her!"  She would have never suspected 
him to take this strategy.  Therefore, neither would Nicola.

"Of course I do.  The more lovestruck he is, the better my point is made 
in the end."  Yes, of course.  No wonder he was so pleased.  It was 
simple and marvelously elegant.  If he continuted working steadily on his
kinder and gentler image, as he had been since returning to them last 
year, he would be in the perfect position to comfort Nicola when the time 
came, to advise him when he was at his most vulnerable.  Lacroix could  
tell him practically anything.  It would be simplicity itself to pull him 
gently away from mortal life.  Depending on how careful Lacroix was about 
it, Nicola might even be able to believe it was his own choice.

But he should have known better than to tell her his plan.  The only time 
she ever refused him was when it came to Nicola.  "Lacroix, don't do  
this.  When the time comes, he'll need me."  But she had a strong feeling 
that her small rebellion would futile.  He would not have given her an 
avenue of escape; he knew perfectly well where she would stand on the 
matter.  But she had to try.

He tilted his head toward her, raising the glass to his lips again.  
"Exactly my point.  He's become entirely too dependent on you, my dear 
Janette. It is time that he came to depend on me."

She used her eyes and the tone of her voice to reinforce her words, as if 
they were the most obvious thing in the world:  "He won't turn to you for 
help.  He hates you too much."  Believe it, Lacroix.  Leave him alone.  
He'll be miserable enough without your help.

He lifted his eyebrows and nodded, conceding the point.  "Perhaps not, 
but this is the best opportunity to find out that I'll have in a 
century." 

She had no more cards to play, and she was out of options.  All but the
last, and the most dangerous.  Janette watched him coolly.  "And if I 
refuse?"

Lacroix stood and gently caressed her chin.  "Then poor Natalie will die
all the sooner.  Nicholas will come to me with the blame, of course.  And 
I, as you might expect, will have an alibi and witnesses.  You, however, 
are a woman scorned."  Lacroix shook his head in mock sadness.  "It won't 
take much to convince him of your guilt."  Then he smiled.  He really was 
amused by this game.  "And once the idea is fixed in his mind, nothing  
you say could possibly make him believe otherwise."

She knew immediately that it was true.  Even if she went to Nicola now, 
right this instant, he would still be faster.  Lacroix smiled 
reassuringly, "Don't worry, my dear.  Once the deed is done, you're 
perfectly free to come back.  A head start is all I require."

His expression was patiently amused, hers was patiently bored.  But their
eyes, when they met, were anything but patient, and sparks flew.  He knew 
exactly how much it would hurt her to watch Nick suffer, with only 
Lacroix to turn to, though that wasn't entirely his intent.  And she knew 
how very much Lacroix wanted this moment, and how much he would give for 
its smooth completion.

There was really no contest.  She was trapped; they both knew it.  She 
hesitated a moment, then sighed.  Well, there were aspects in his plan 
that were advantageous to her, no matter what happened.  Besides, she had 
gained Nicola's trust before.  In time, if need be, she could gain it 
again. 

He must have seen the acceptance in her eyes, because he smiled just a
little more, and said, "I knew you would come to see things my way."

He kissed her lightly on the cheek, and was gone.

***

Janette smiled.  That was only a year ago.  Nowhere near the amount of 
time Lacroix would require to bolster himself in his son's eyes.  It was 
his fatal error, to assume that he would have decades; a mistake that no
one, not even he, could have predicted.  He had failed again.

And Janette felt like celebrating.

"Your time is up, Lacroix.  He is mine again."

"What makes you think he was ever yours to begin with, or ever will be, 
for that matter?"  Lacroix's tone was icy, and she had learned to respect
that look in his eye.  She decided to change her attitude, and quickly.

"Have you made progress?" she asked innocently, as Lacroix pulled out
and began to drive toward the Raven. 

"That depends on what you call progress." he replied sourly.  "Things 
have not gone as I would have liked."

"More in my favor than you would have hoped?" she asked softly, her tone 
carefully neutral.

His mouth quirked at her caution.  Or for other reasons.  "Less, 
actually." 

Her heart froze for a moment, then fell like a stone.  "What?"

Lacroix frowned at the road in front of him, as if it were the one 
thwarting him.  "I'm not sure how to bring him out of this new stage of
bitterness that he's found, or," he admitted, "even if I should."

"Lacroix..." she whispered, "what have you done to him?"

They slowed to a stop in front of the Raven, and Lacroix turned to look
at her fully, and she saw the faint traces of concern that marked his 
face.  His honest answer chilled her to the bone.

"I don't know.  But he seems to hate all the world but me."

***

The first thing she did, of course, was visit him.

"Nicola?"  She tiptoed through the loft.  "You know, you should really
be more careful to lock your skylight..."  She caught sight of him, 
sitting at the table, working, of course.  He looked at her, smiled 
faintly, but didn't rise to greet her.  "Hello, Janette."

She firmly stamped down the fear that stirred within her, and managed
to smile with some amount of normalicy.  "Now that's not a proper 
greeting, Nicola," she teased.  She remembered a time when that remark
would make him smile.  This time though, it had the opposite effect.  His 
smile seemed to waver, then disappeared.  His expression changed 
slightly, and Janette paled.  She could not remember a time when he had
looked on her so coldly.  Then he looked away, and she tried to shake 
herself of the feeling of dread that had enveloped her.

"So, how long will you be staying?" he asked conversationally as he went 
to pour the wine.

She cocked her head, and smiled in polite confusion.  She couldn't 
believe that that was all that was bothering him.  Easily fixed, if that 
was the extent of it.  "I was only gone a little while, Nicola.  I'm not 
going anywhere now."

"Yes, of course," he replied flatly.  Janette's mouth nearly fell open in
surprise.  He didn't believe her!  Not only that, but he didn't even seem
to question the fact that she was lying.  What on earth did Lacroix say 
to him?  What on earth *could* Lacroix have said to him?  Janette felt 
her fear begin to worsen.  But there was nothing, *nothing* Lacroix could
have said to turn him against her, not completely.  She knew that with a 
certainty that she thought was unbreakable.  He still loved her.

Didn't he?

She no longer knew, and that was worst of all.

She decided to stop dancing about the subject.  She was no longer in a
condition to do it very well.  "Nicola, what is it?  What's wrong?"  The
words had never failed to bring her a deluge of Nicola's current list of
troubles.  He had always confided in her, always.  Even when he shouldn't 
have.  That was another thing that never changed.  Never.

Nick lost all pretense of politeness, as his eyes grew steely.  "You 
left."  His voice was still conversational, normal.  He was more angry 
than she had ever seen him, ten upon ten times more angry.  The feeling 
of dread got worse, and her jaw tightened.

Janette looked him full in the eye and withstood his glare.  "I came 
back."  It was her only defense.

He wasn't convinced.  "You'll leave again."

Honesty was all she had left, no matter how painful.  "And I'll come
back again."

Neither of them would budge an inch, and the stare lengthened into 
minutes, until Nick snapped, "You *left*, Janette!  You *abandoned* me
when I needed you most!"

"You, having never neglected me a day in your life, oui?"  She acidly
returned.  "Don't pretend to play the martyr, Nicola.  Recall that I know
you better."

Nick's face reddened in fury, as all his anger unleashed itself at 
once.  "I NEEDED YOU!"

"And, of course, I have NEVER needed YOU!" she shouted back.  "Or does 
screaming it at the top of your lungs make your feelings more important 
than mine?"  Janette snarled through gritted teeth, "Try again, Nicola.  
Try harder.  You came up with better excuses seven hundred years ago."

"So did you," he whispered bitterly.  But the anger was slipping, and his
face was collapsing rapidly into despair, one deeper than she had seen,
even from him, in a long, long time.  His gaze fell to the floor, as he
murmured simply, "I lost *everything*, Janette.  Everything.  It was all
destroyed, in the time you were gone.  Everything that meant anything to 
me."  His brow furrowed as he looked back at her face.  Tears had formed 
in his eyes, though not a single one fell.  "Can you possibly understand 
what that feels like?"

"No," she admitted softly, and added to herself, but I had thought I was 
going to learn, for a moment.

He solemnly looked at her, watched her for a little while, until he spoke
at last.  "I wish you could have been here."  But this time he said it in
sadness, without accusation.

She wondered fleetingly if her own eyes were going to well up with 
tears.  "So do I."  That, at least, she could admit.  I would have stayed 
if I could, Nicola, I swear it.  "I am here now."  It was all she could 
offer as an apology, an apology that was not hers to give.  She damned 
Lacroix as she had known she would, for forcing her to leave, and reached 
out to him with one hand.

He grasped it, and she pulled him forward, into a tight embrace.

"You'll stay?" he whispered.

"I promise."  Lacroix's voice seemed to whisper in her ear that promises 
such as these were made to be broken.  Janette held on all the 
tighter, and prayed that this would be one she would be able to keep.