The usual disclaimers apply.  Thanks to Renee (Hi, Mom!) for the push and the 
help.
There is a bit of coarse language and a mild love scene.
Please send all commentary to ejdeal@sga.quik.com.  
Anyone may archive just let me know where.

Father of the Bride, Part 1 of 3
By Elise

     "Of course she's happy," a puzzled Rick Lambert replied.  He set the cruise 
control on his rented charcoal gray Infinity.  "It's her wedding day."  Mumbling 
under his breath at the traffic so unlike the bush he was used to, Dr. Lambert 
shook his head at the so-called progress around him.  
     Compressing her full lips into a thin, rose colored line, Sylvia Lambert 
did not reply to her husband's question or to his mutterings.  Rick missed his 
medical work among the natives and the slower pace of life they had grown 
accustomed to.  She couldn't blame him because it was her fault they had moved 
to the wilds of New Guinea in the first place.  
     After little Richie's birth, the nervous breakdown she had been working 
towards had forced their move to some place less stressful.  It had also 
necessitated their leaving the children with their grandmother.  At times she'd 
felt like a terrible mother for leaving Natalie and Richie with her mother, 
knowing how difficult the old woman could be, but Rick had assured her they 
would be fine.  They had intended on coming back sooner, then more often, but 
the days slipped into weeks, months, and whole years were gone before they 
realized it.  In all that time, they had returned only three times.  The first 
time had bee for her mother's funeral.  The second time was for Natalie's 
graduation from medical school.  The last time had been for Richie's funeral.
     Now, they were back again.  Natalie's breakdown and attempted suicide last 
year, so much like her own, had prompted them to return, and they had stayed.  
Now that their only child, their little girl, was getting married, moving on 
with her life, Rick was feeling restless, wanting to go back to the work Sylvia 
had forced them into, work he had learned to love.
     But this year spent with Natalie had been more than necessary.  As parents 
and medical professionals, Rick and Sylvia had tended Nat after her apparent 
suicide.  They had nursed her body and mind back to health.  They had taken 
turns sitting up with her all day and all night as the nightmares besieged 
Natalie.  Incoherent babblings and wild, unbelievable claims came from their 
baby girl while she struggled to gain consciousness.  Her father, a medical 
doctor, had worried for her sanity because he hadn't a clue as to how to heal 
her mind.  Sylvia, though, seemed to know exactly what to do. 
     Mother and daughter had gotten to know one another and had grown closer, 
becoming fast friends.  Together they had even tackled the impossible questions 
of why and how a mother and father could leave their own children.  Sylvia 
Lambert had told her daughter more than she had ever told anyone else about her 
breakdown.  More than she had told the therapist and certainly more than she had 
told her husband.  But she had not told her everything and never would.  Nat was 
a smart girl; she'd figure it out.  If all went well, that was.  
     "She is happy, isn't she?"  Rick Lambert asked as he skillfully changed 
lanes.  He ventured a quick look at his wife, then looked away again to monitor 
the road.  Traffic in Toronto was heavy.  Despite the fact, he turned again for 
a longer study of the tense profile of his wife.
     Although they had been happily married for thirty-five years, he never knew 
what she was thinking.  She had always been and continued to be a total mystery 
to him.  No longer was her hair that rich midnight color; now it was a lustrous 
silver.  But her eyes were still that compelling shade of green, an emerald that 
could swallow a man's soul.  And they had surely swallowed his.
      Again, he thanked the stars for his unbelievable luck in catching her, and 
he wondered what he had ever done to deserve her.  This thought led him to 
clench his jaw in a moment of shame.  He well remembered how he caught her.  
He'd gotten her pregnant.  It had been 1962, and in those days people had an 
ugly name for unwed mothers.  There was a worse one for the child.  They had 
made it to the altar mere days before the birth.
     Still, he had been ecstatically happy to have her, and they had had a happy 
marriage all these long years despite the fact that they had had to leave the 
children in Toronto with his mother-in-law.  He regretted having to leave them, 
but it was necessary to save his wife's sanity, and if he had to make the choice 
again, he would do it without a moment's hesitation.
     Quickly before turning back to the road, Rick reached out and gently patted 
her knee.  "Sylvia?"
     She turned to look at him, not frowning but not smiling either.
     "Natalie has recovered with no ill effects.  She knows what she's doing."  
It was a statement that sounded more like a question.
     Heaving a sigh, Sylvia Lambert shook her head.  "I don't know, Rick.  We 
got to know one another pretty well while she was convalescing.  I'm afraid that 
deep down she's still in love with-"
     "Aarrgh," he interrupted her and removed his hand.  "Don't say it."
     Obediently, Sylvia again compressed her lips.  She stared straight ahead at 
the traffic around them.
     "That detective fellow."  He spat out the words.  "Strange character.  A 
real oddball."
     "Now, Rick, you only met the boy once, and it was at Richard's funeral," 
she protested softly.
     "Once was enough," he insisted.  "Allergic to this, allergic to that, yet 
looked as healthy as a horse.  I could have told her he was bad news and saved 
her all this trouble."  A silence invaded the car for a moment.  "Reminded me of 
that creepy University professor we had for ancient history.  What was his name?  
Delabar?  Delaware?  Dela-"
     "Delacroix," she supplied quietly.  "Professor Lucian Delacroix."
     "Yeah, that was the one I meant."  Rick reset the cruise control.  He 
snorted a chuckle.  "If I recall rightly, half the co-eds on campus - you 
included- had quite a crush on him."
     Sylvia Ivanovich Lambert gave her husband a hard look of irritation.
     "Uh, sorry."  Rick offered, "He was a good professor."  Oops!  He really 
put his foot in his mouth that time.  Sylvia had been in the car accident that 
had claimed the professor's life.  Nodding to himself, Dr. Lambert maneuvered 
the car around a slower moving vehicle.  "Damn shame he was killed in that 
crash."  His voice was low and solemn.
     "Yes, and lucky that I was thrown clear before the vehicle burned," she 
replied automatically.  It was a phrase she had repeated for years.  
     A heavy silence filled the car, and both Dr. and Mrs. Lambert stared 
uncomfortably at the traffic around them.
     The horrendous accident, which had sealed her fate, had happened her senior 
year at the University.    Rick had been in his final year of internship and had 
already been offered a position at Mercy General for the following fall.  He and 
Sylvia had an on-again-off-again relationship, and he was pushing for an 
engagement.  Sylvia had been lukewarm at the prospect, wishing to fulfill her 
dreams of archaeology before settling down.
     Dr. Delacroix had already agreed to take her on a dig to Pompeii he was 
putting together for the summer.  They had spent many long hours working, 
planning, and talking about the upcoming trip.  Together they had enlisted a 
small group of select individuals to join them.  On the night of the accident, 
they had been on their way to Montreal to pick up key equipment for the trip.
     The official report stated that the professor had fallen asleep at the 
wheel, and the car had sailed over an embankment, erupting in a ball of flame.  
At some point, probably as the wheels struck the guardrail, Sylvia had been 
thrown clear.  It was what had saved her life and what had started her slow 
spiral into a nervous breakdown.
     She changed after the crash.  No longer was she the carefree college 
student, who laughed and enjoyed life.  Now she became quiet, too quiet, as if 
the enormity of life were resting on her thin shoulders.  
     Within days of the crash, she accepted Rick Lambert's proposal, and they 
became intimate.  The months that followed whirled by at light speed.  An 
unplanned pregnancy, the beginnings of his medical practice, and a hasty wedding 
that came barely before Natalie's birth.  And when their tiny girl was barely 
six months old, Sylvia became pregnant again.  
     Then one night some four months after Richie's birth, Rick had come home 
just before dawn to find his cherished wife sobbing hysterically.  Sylvia 
babbled incoherently about Delacroix, the accident, the fact that she did not 
graduate, Natalie's birth, Richie's birth.  She was utterly inconsolable, and 
Rick had no idea of how to help her. 
     Therapy proved expensive and useless.  The only thought that brought her 
any peace was the psychiatrist's suggestion that Rick take her away.  That he 
had done, though at the price of leaving his children behind.  Even now he 
wasn't sure he had made the right decision.
      Dr. Lambert shifted in his seat.  Such thoughts always left him confused 
and uneasy.  "You really think Natalie still loves that Detective Knight?" in a 
tiny voice he asked his wife.
     Sylvia stared straight ahead, making no reply for so long her husband 
thought perhaps she hadn't heard him.  Just as he was about to speak again, she 
stirred.
     "Yes, I do, and before you ask, no, she didn't tell me outright."
     "After he vanished?  Quit his job?  Left town in the middle of the night?" 
Rick Lambert burst out.  He pounded a fist on the steering wheel.  "The little 
bastard didn't even leave her a letter, a card, a phone message!  Didn't say 
goodbye, kiss my ass, or anything!  How could she possibly still love him?"
     "Calm down, Rick," Sylvia said with an irritated sigh.  "Remember your 
blood pressure."
*     *     *
     Natalie tried to relax in the hot bath, but she couldn't.  The steamy water 
had created mountains of bubbles and clouds of scented fog.  Slowly, she slumped 
down until the water rose to her neck, splashing playfully against the scar.  
     The scar was a tiny thing, really.  It ran only two inches in length, 
covering and concealing the two punctures Nick had placed there little over a 
year ago.  She knew LaCroix had been the one to slit her throat before bringing 
her to the hospital.  The on-duty nurse had described the man who had brought 
her in that night.  And she knew why he had done it, but, still, everyone had 
thought the wound self-inflicted. 
     So what if everyone thought her suicidal?  So what if everyone thought she 
had tried to kill herself because of Nick Knight?  So what if she had spent a 
month in the hospital?  So what if she had spent another two in rehabilitation?  
So what if everything important in her whole life had ended that night? 
     Natalie sighed and pushed those thoughts aside like her therapist had 
taught her.  She closed her eyes momentarily and began breathing deeply and 
evenly.  Soon her mind was back to safer thoughts, and she opened her eyes to 
see her pink-tipped, freshly pedicured toes peaking out of the water at the 
other end of the tub.
     She wiggled her toes and reached for the Michener novel she had set on the 
toilet lid.  Good old James Michener.  Even as a teenager, Natalie had always 
enjoyed his novels, this one especially.  She had read Centennial three or four 
times before, and it never bored her.  
     Reading an old favorite while soaking in a hot bath was her usual method of 
relaxing, but tonight it wasn't working.  There would be no relaxation for her 
this time because tonight at midnight mass she was to be married.
     Lionel Jones was a wonderful man.  He was a tall, handsome lawyer, and he 
worshipped the ground Natalie walked on.  They had dated for almost six months 
before he proposed.  Nat had accepted to his delight and the delight of their 
parents.   Myra Schanke was completely overjoyed at the news, particularly since 
she had introduced them.
     Everyone was thrilled about the upcoming nuptials.  Grace had carried on 
like she was the bride to be.  She was at St. John's Cathedral right now helping 
the florist decorate the sanctuary.  Myra was taking care of the catering and 
was no doubt at the reception hall right now.  Natalie's parents, having stayed 
on in Toronto after nursing her back to health, were driving in from the suburbs 
tonight.  All she had to do was relax and prepare herself.
     Yes, everyone was excited and happy.  Everyone except the bride.  Natalie 
sighed and felt her stomach knot up again.  Lionel was her fianc‚.  He was 
nearly perfect.  She liked him, cared for him, found him very sexy and 
incredible in bed, but she could not love him.  Tears threatened to surface as 
she acknowledged the real reason her heart could not commit to Lionel.  She 
couldn't love him because she was still in love with Nick.  
     He had left Toronto a year ago after That Night.  That's how she thought 
about it.  In capital letters.  That Night when she had asked him to make love 
to her and take just a little.  He had been unable to stop, nearly killing her, 
and then while she was still in the hospital, he'd left.  Simply left.  Leaving 
no forwarding address, no note, no nothing.  It had devastated her.
     Heaving a sigh, Natalie pushed those dark thoughts from her mind yet again.  
She toed open the drain and sat up.  There would be no relaxation now.  
Carefully, she stood and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her 
body and another around her hair.
     It was early still, only 9:00P.M., but Natalie began the time consuming 
process of getting ready.  Make up, hair, dress- everything had to be perfect.  
How often did a girl get married?  How often did a girl get married for the 
first time?  She amended that thought with a sad smile.
      She and Lionel would marry, buy a house with a white, picket fence, have a 
baby or two, a dog.  They'd give it a try.  If it didn't work out, they could 
just get a divorce.  She had developed a fatalistic attitude about it all that 
horrified Grace, confused her fianc‚, and made her mother stare at her with eyes 
as hard as green glass. 
     Make up finished, she began to towel dry her hair when the sound of her 
apartment door opening and closing caught her attention.  "Mom?  That you?" she 
called out.  Her parents had insisted on keeping a key to her apartment. They 
were afraid she might get depressed and they wouldn't be able to get to her in 
time before she tired to kill herself again.  For the same "safety reasons" 
Grace had kept one too.  
     No answer came.  "Mom?" she called a bit louder.  Moving to the middle of 
her bedroom, Natalie called out again.  "Grace?  Is that you?"
     Then he stepped into the room.
     Her hands flew to her mouth, and the towel fell to the floor.  "Oh, my G-, 
Nick!" A guttural, strangled cry escaped her.  Natalie swallowed back the 
threatening hysteria.  It was her Nick!  He had come back!  But why?
     Anger quickly replaced her shock.  After a year of no contact at all, why 
had he shown up now?  On the eve of her wedding?  And what did he want?  Hadn't 
she suffered enough?
     "Why are you here?  What do you want?" she rasped out, making her words as 
cold as she could.  But her voice broke on the word "you" and gave away her true 
feelings.
     Nick's couldn't move his tongue, but his eyes devoured her.  He'd thought 
he could get through this without breaking down, but he was close to tears just 
looking at her.  In the past year, she had changed very little.  She was thinner 
than he remembered, and paler, and there was a scar on her throat from the wound 
LaCroix had placed over his bite marks.  He burned with sudden shame.
     "Please," she whispered.
     Nick frowned.  Surely, she knew why he was here.  Didn't she send him the 
letter?  He pulled it from his breast pocket, where it had lain next to his cold 
heart for nearly three days now.  Holding it out to her, he said, "The letter 
you sent me."
     With a puzzled look, Natalie took the proffered letter with shaking hands.  
She stared at the white envelope in her hands that contained a letter he said 
she'd sent him.  She couldn't remember sending him a letter, but she'd done a 
lot of things this past year that she didn't really remember.   
     Shaking her head with confusion, Nat handed the unopened letter back to 
Nick.  "Uh," she muttered, "let me get dressed.  Wait for me in the living 
room."  Then she turned, and like an old woman, tottered back into the bathroom.


Father of the Bride, Part 2 of 3
By Elise

     Nick paced the small living room.  Four long strides to the left.  Four 
long strides to the right.  Then his sensitive hearing picked up the soft sound 
of her footsteps.  Wheeling around in mid-stride, Nick froze.  His heart lurched 
in his chest as he saw Natalie emerge from the back.  
     She was dressed in a satiny cloud of white.  Her lovely chestnut tresses 
were piled high, held in place by creamy pearls and tiny yellow rose buds.  She 
was dressed as a bride, someone else's bride.  Natalie was beautiful.
     Holding her head high, Natalie walked past a stunned Nick and sat on the 
couch, her dress billowing out around her.  She had managed to recover somewhat 
from the shock of seeing him, and she was now curious about the letter.  She 
held out her hand.  "May I see the letter?" she asked quietly.
     Nick quickly settled on the opposite end of the couch and handed her the 
letter, watching her every move intently.  If he had had any doubts about coming 
back, they were now utterly dispelled.  He loved her completely, and he was now 
willing to do whatever it took -saving only bringing her across - to keep her 
beside him.
     This past year for him had been sheer hell.  The last thing he remembered 
about that night was kneeling before Nat and asking LaCroix to stake him.  He'd 
wanted desperately to return to Toronto and Natalie, but LaCroix had made it 
plain to him that if he did, her life would be forfeit.
     So, for her sake, he'd stayed away.  There was no more lying to LaCroix, 
trying to convince his master that he didn't love Natalie.  The very fact that 
he had refused to bring her across proved just how much he did love her.  As 
long as they were apart, LaCroix was content to have his revenge.  He was 
depriving Nick of his one true love.
      /But no more/, he vowed to himself.  If Natalie had found the courage 
after all she had gone through to write him this letter, he would be with her if 
she wanted him.  He had lived without her for one long year.  That was too long.
     Natalie was unaware of Nick's determined look.  She was engrossed in the 
letter.  Timidly, she took the letter and opened it, reading with shaking hands.

     "Dear Nick,
          What I have to say isn't easy for me.  You left me a year ago, and not 
a day has gone by that I haven't missed you.  Time, they say, heals all wounds.  
That's a lie.
     Nick, I'm to be married Saturday, June 1st at Midnight Mass in St. John's.  
Lionel is a wonderful man, a lawyer.  He loves me completely, and I care for him 
great deal.  But I'm not in love with him.  How could I love him when I'm still 
in love with you?
     Although you never said those words to me, you let me know in many other 
ways how you felt.  (Or did I imagine it all?  Did I transfer my feelings onto 
you?)  If you do love me, I am about to make a horrible mistake.  One that will 
surely ruin my life and Lionel's.  
     If you do love me, come to me.  Take me away from here, Nick.  I don't care 
where or how. Somehow I know we can make a life together.  If you don't show up, 
I'll know I have imagined it all and am a fool of my own delusions, but at least 
I'll be able to find contentment with Lionel.
      Forever yours,
      Natalie"

     When she had finished reading the letter, she folded it and placed it back 
into the envelope.  The handwriting was familiar, but it wasn't hers.  Shaking 
her head gently from side to side, Natalie handed the letter back to Nick.  
     Nick took her hands between his own.  "I'll never leave you again, Nat, if 
that's what you want.  I'll be here as long as you need me."  His eyes shone 
with love as he looked into her eyes.  "Nat," he added seriously, "we can't be 
together as a man and woman, but if you love me enough to write this-"
     "I didn't write this, Nick," she whispered.  //But I know who did,// she 
thought.
     Nick's heart fell, and a stunned look came over his face.  Silence engulfed 
them both until Nick could stand it no longer.  "LaCroix!" he burst out.  "I 
should have known when he handed me the plain, white envelope."
     "LaCroix?"  Natalie furrowed her brow.  She was terribly confused.  //How 
did LaCroix get a letter mom wrote?//
     "Yes," Nick wailed, "just another of his spiteful, mean tricks."  He 
quieted and dropped his face.  When he spoke again, his voice was soft and 
filled with pain.  "I am very sorry, Nat.  I'll leave.  I won't interfere or 
interrupt."  He stood stiffly, stuffing the letter back into his pocket as he 
moved towards the door.  Two steps were all he took before he abruptly swung 
back around to look at her with longing in his eyes.  She hadn't moved a muscle.  
"I wish you all the happiness in the world."  He croaked out the sincere words.
     "I didn't write that letter, Nick," she said in a tiny, queer voice, "but 
that doesn't mean it isn't true."
     Nick stopped dead in his tracks, then took an awkward step towards her.  
"What?" 
     "It's true, Nick.  All of it," she added softly.  A brilliant smile lit her 
face, and tears came to her eyes.  "And you did come back for me, didn't you?"
     "Yes," he whispered.  Quickly, he crossed back to the couch and gently sat 
beside her.  "I never said the words, Nat, not until now, but I do love you."
      Tiny tears began to slip down her face.  "Then why did you leave me?"  It 
was a simple question, not an accusation.
*     *     *
      "And because you wouldn't let him bring your sister across, he swore to 
take your one true love away from you?" Natalie asked quietly. 
     Nick answered with a nod.  "That's why I left without telling you, Nat.  
The very fact that I love you puts your life in jeopardy."  He looked intently 
into her eyes. 
     She waved the last comment away.  "You love me," she said softly.  "Do you 
know how long I've waited to hear those words?  You should have told me before."
     "What right had I to bind you with soft words knowing they could never be 
realized?  Knowing we could never be together?  Didn't we learn that fact that 
last night together?"
     "But we can be together, Nick."
     He shook his head.  "Nat, you haven't found a cure.  I don't even think 
there is one."
     "There is.  Janette and Robert's cure."
     Nick heaved a sigh and looked down at their entwined hands.  "We tried 
that, and I nearly killed you."   His voice was full of anguish.
     "No, Nick," Natalie insisted.  She placed her hands on both sides of his 
face, tilting it up so she could look into his eyes.  "We never made love.  You 
only took my blood."  She could see the rising fear in his eyes.  "Nick, it 
comes down to this.  We either love each other or we don't."  Nick remained 
silent so she continued.  "If you don't love me, then leave.  I'll be content 
with Lionel."  When he made no move to leave, she smiled and caressed his cheek.  
"Nick, now we have to decide what to do about the way we feel.  Ignore it?"
     "I can't do that, Nat," he told her.  He smiled at her and took her hands 
in his own.  "Not any longer.  If I could, I wouldn't be here now." 
      "So what do we do now?  Try the cure again, or simply bring me across?" 
      He clenched his jaw.  "No," Nick told her.  "I won't bring you over, and I 
won't play with your life, your immortal soul."  Suddenly, he broke away, stood, 
and walked to the window of her apartment.  Thousands of city lights flickered 
beyond the glass.  The cold lights seemed to taunt him.  //This is all of the 
sun's light you'll ever have,// they seemed to say.
     Nick sighed and walked back over to the couch.  Wearily, he has down beside 
her again.  "Nat," he began softly, "when I made my choice-"
     "You made it out of greed and lust," she interrupted.  "My choice would be 
based on love, the love I feel for you."
     "But your choice," he argued, "hinges on mine, and I won't do it."  He 
stood again and paced the room while he spoke.  "LaCroix planned this.  He'll 
try to hurt you.  If I have to leave to protect you, I will, Nat.  You didn't 
send me the letter.  You were happy before with Lionel.  You can be happy 
again."
     "Not happy, Nick.  Not without you."  The tears were back.
     Heaving a sigh, he conceded the fact.  "Okay, contentment then."  Looking 
at her crying there, he couldn't stand the abandoned look in her eyes.  He 
stopped his pacing and again sat beside her.  He took her hands and placed them 
over his heart.  His voice was a harsh whisper.  "Natalie, I make this choice 
because I love you."
     "I don't believe this," Natalie said to herself.  "Nick, this doesn't make 
any sense.  You love me too much to love me?"  She tilted her head to the side, 
searching his eyes for some softening.  Nick only stood all the more stubborn.  
"Fine," she muttered.  Then, her voice grew quieter.  Her tone almost begged 
him.  "Kiss me, Nick, one last time, please."
     Tenderly, he took her into his arms and kissed her.  Natalie clung to him, 
demanding a kiss she could remember all her days.  He kissed her forehead, her 
eyes, her throat.  With trembling hands, he caressed her, stroking her warm, 
silken flesh. 
     "Please don't leave me," Natalie murmured in his ear, and her breath caused 
him to shiver with delight.  "Stay with me, Nick.  I need you."  The warmth of 
her hands burned his skin as she returned his caresses, and her lips sought his 
again.
     Nick pulled her to him, deepening the kiss.  He needed her, wanted her, 
loved her.  But he knew his love would only hurt her.  LaCroix would not allow 
her to live.  This one moment, this one kiss, what could it hurt?  Hungrily, he 
tasted her mouth, wishing they could have more.
     Despair emboldened her, and Natalie's hands swept over him.  At long last 
she touched Nick as she'd always wanted to do.   She slowly unbuttoned his shirt 
and slid her hands inside.  
     "Nat," he gasped, breaking the kiss, "stop."
     But Natalie did not stop.  She pushed the shirt down his arms.  "I need 
you, Nick," she told him frantically.  "Please don't leave me."  Again she 
captured his mouth.
     Nick knew he should resist her, should stop them both now, but he couldn't.  
Soon enough he would be gone from her life.  He could control a little more.  He 
was sure of it.  And for a moment, he could fulfill a small part of their 
fantasy.  
     Shrugging out of the shirt, he reached around Natalie and began unzipping 
the dress.  As the dress sagged around her shoulders, Nick swept his hand across 
her throat, dipping in and down to cup her breast.  Natalie moaned into his 
mouth, urging him onward.
     "Oh, my!" a startled voice cried out.
     "What the hell is going on?" an equally angry voice yelled.
     A shirtless Nick and a half-dressed Natalie shot up from the couch to see 
Natalie's parents.  Rick Lambert, red faced with anger, stormed into the room, 
while his wife stood in the doorway and covered her mouth with her hands.
     "It's not what you think, sir," Nick insisted.  "I love your daughter very 
much."
     "Daddy," Natalie gasped out.
     "Natalie Anne Lambert!" Rick Lambert barked as he pulled his daughter up 
from the couch.  "Just what do you think you're doing?"  Hastily averting his 
eyes from his daughter's heaving bosom, Rick yelled for his wife.  "Sylvia, come 
do something with your daughter!  At least get her dressed again."
     Sylvia came forward at a far more sedate speed than her red-faced husband 
and began refastening the now-crumpled wedding gown.  She said not a word, but 
she nodded her head briefly once as her eyes met her daughter's.
     "And you!" roared the older man as he wheeled back around to face the now 
dressed Nick.
     "Nick Knight, Sir."   Nick held out his hand as politely as he dared.
     Dr. Lambert pointedly ignored the outstretched hand.  "I know who you are," 
he replied.  "You're that little bastard who broke my girl's heart, left her 
cold!  Did you know she tried to kill herself over you?  Do you even care?"  The 
righteously indignant father raged at a fever pitch, and he advanced on the 
seemingly younger man.
     "Rick, remember your blood pressure," Sylvia reminded him blandly. 
     Jaws clenched, Nick bowed his head, accepting the elder man's verbal 
barrage.  A father should try to protect his daughter, and a father had the 
right to do whatever was necessary to do that. 
     Natalie wailed.  "I love him!"
     Rick Lambert stopped in mid-sentence and stared at his baby girl as if she 
had finally gone over the deep end.  Closing his mouth, he turned his back on 
the young detective and took his daughter's arms in his hands.  "Honey," - He 
spoke so gently, so tenderly, to her that his voice trembled and shook with raw 
emotion. - "How can you possible love him?"  He shook his head in disbelief.  
"What kind of man is he?  What kind of man walks out on a woman he claims to 
love?  What kind of man walks out on a woman who loves him so much?" 

Father of the Bride, Part 3 of 3
By Elise

     "What kind of man, indeed?"  The question came from the still open doorway, 
where a pale and melancholy LaCroix was advancing into the apartment.  The 
General strode nonchalantly towards the stunned group.  His presence, so 
unexpected, startled them all, and silence reigned. 
     This was more than the overwrought doctor could take.  "And just who the 
hell are you?"  Rick Lambert was apoplectic.  In anger the elder doctor charged 
the newcomer, his fists raised. 
     "Rick, don't!" Sylvia exclaimed.  She rushed forward and pulled 
unsuccessfully at her husband's raised arms.
     "Daddy!" Natalie screamed.
     Instantly, Nick leapt forward in an attempt to save Natalie's father.
     LaCroix was faster.  The master vampire turned the full force of his icy 
blue eyes on Rick Lambert and caught him in mid-attack.  "Remember your blood 
pressure, Rick," LaCroix precisely mimicked Sylvia's earlier warning.  "You 
should rest.  Sleep."
     Nick's race forward ended with his catching the doctor as the older man 
fell into a sudden deep and dreamless sleep.  He lowered the sleeping man gently 
to the floor.
     LaCroix raised his chin and surveyed the room.  Richard Lambert, Sr. lay 
sprawled out on the floor.  His wife, Sylvia, sat gracefully on the floor near 
him.  Dressed all in white Natalie Lambert stood, angry and defiant, before him.  
Nicholas stood quickly and placed his body in front of her, protecting the woman 
he loved from his master.
     "What do you want, LaCroix?" Nick demanded.
     When LaCroix answered, his voice was indolent and dangerous.  "Oh, there is 
a little matter of a debt that you owe me.  We had an agreement, had we not?"  
Then, he added sarcastically, "Surely you have not forgotten."
     Nick faced LaCroix.  "Leave her be, LaCroix," he angrily ordered.  "Nat is 
to be married tonight.  She no longer loves me."  Nick spread his arms wide.  
"So you see, you have your revenge," he explained.  "I've lost my one true love 
just as you wanted."
      Coldly, LaCroix flickered his burning amber eyes between the pair.  He 
arched his eyebrow as he directed a question at Natalie.  "Is this true?" he 
asked.  "Have you at long last forgotten your love for Nicholas?"
     Natalie swallowed hard.  If she told the truth and admitted that she still 
loved Nick, LaCroix would kill her.  She wasn't afraid of dying; she'd thought 
of it a lot this past year.  But she was afraid for her parents and for Nick.  
The only way to appease LaCroix's need for revenge was to go along with Nick's 
scheme.  She gave a quick, silent prayer, hoping it would work.
     She glanced up at the wall clock.  "In less than an hour I'm marrying 
Lionel Jones at midnight mass in St. John's.  You're welcome to attend."  
Natalie arched an eyebrow as she stood before him, hands on hips.  She knew her 
heart was racing.  Maybe LaCroix would attribute that to her anger over his and 
Nick's intrusion.  Natalie jerked her chin up a notch as she added 
sarcastically, "I'm registered at Huntingdon's.  I'm sure you can afford 
something nice."
     LaCroix's frozen glare thawed, and he eyed her with warm humor.  She was, 
indeed,  much like her father.  The letter he received was quite correct in its 
summation of her.  Dr. Natalie Lambert would make a fine and fitting consort for 
his son.  
     The boy, of course, with his eternal guilt would never dream of bringing 
her across.  No, the young fool would stand by like a martyr and watch her die 
rather than force her to a fate worse than death.  LaCroix snorted a harsh laugh 
as he considered this.  The gods forbid that Nicholas dare bring Natalie across.  
Wouldn't it be terrible if Nicholas actually found some joy in his existence?
     A slow smile spread across LaCroix's mouth, and he spoke to his son, 
ignoring the feisty doctor.  "Nicholas, the choice is simple.  Either you bring 
her across or I will."
     "But, LaCroix," Nick cried, "our agreement has been fulfilled.  Natalie 
does not love me.  I have lost my one true love.  Surely you can leave her and 
be satisfied by watching me suffer."
     "You are assuming I believe your story.  It was very entertaining, but now 
you must choose," LaCroix said simply.  With a warm smile, he added.  "You are 
quite the actress, Doctor." 
     "LaCroix, I-"
     LaCroix sighed loudly.  "Really, Nicholas, it is a relatively simple 
decision to make.  Do you want her, or shall I take her?"
     Unobtrusive until this moment, Sylvia Lambert took the opportunity to speak 
up.  "What about the wedding?"  Natalie's mother was unbelievably poised for the 
situation.  She stood, hands clasped before her, and looked calmly at her 
daughter.  Perhaps she was merely in shock.
     With a voice that was trembling with fear, Natalie told her mother, "There 
won't be a wedding, Mom."
     "Of course, there will," LaCroix responded brightly.  "There will simply be 
a substitution of bridegrooms." He smiled roguishly at Sylvia and gestured to 
Rick Lambert's softly snoring form.  "I am afraid your husband will not be in 
attendance, but I will be honored to be Natalie's father."  He bowed slightly to 
her.  "And Nicholas will be the happy bridegroom, unless he prefers to choose 
another.  Nicholas?"
     Nick didn't know whether to laugh with joy or cry in despair.  "Natalie is 
mine," he told LaCroix.  His voice was a growl that held a warning for the elder 
vampire.  Deliberately turning his back to his master, Nick sank to his knees 
before Natalie.  Softly he asked her, "Natalie, will you marry me?"
     "Yes," Natalie answered joyfully.
     Nick rose and enfolded her in his arms.  They kissed.
     "Yes, yes, that's well and fine," LaCroix interjected.  Suddenly, he became 
the General again, delivering orders that brooked no refusal or delay.  "After 
the ceremony, Nicholas, we will return here, and you will bring her across.  
Now, take your bride and her lovely mother-"  LaCroix took Sylvia's hand and 
bowed over it, covering it with a lingering kiss. - "to the church.  I'll 
arrange for supplies to be brought here, and then I shall follow you."
     Doing as he was bid, Nick gathered the two women and headed for the door.  
He had gotten Natalie and her mother to the corridor when LaCroix's voice 
stopped him.  
     "And, Nicholas, do not consider escape.  Remember I have Sylvia's husband."  
He pointed carelessly towards the slumbering form of Rick Lambert.
     There was no mistaking the threat in his master's voice.  Nick inclined his 
head submissively and shut the door behind them.
     Moments later, the door again opened.  LaCroix, phone in hand, heard the 
melodic voice of Sylvia Lambert.   "I forgot my purse.  I'll just be a minute, 
then I'll be right down."
     The master vampire, having completed his order and having been assured that 
the apartment would be well-stocked on their return, placed the phone back on 
the cradle.  He watched as Natalie's mother entered the room.  She gathered her 
purse and walked decisively towards him, stopping within arm's reach.
     She smiled lovingly at him.  "Thank you, Lucian," she whispered.  "Thank 
you for making his happen.  I couldn't bear to see Natalie suffer as I have 
these past thirty-five years."
     LaCroix smiled tenderly and gave her a half bow.  "I have long regretted 
having to leave you so abruptly as I did, but if the Enforcers had discovered 
that you were-"
     Sylvia lay a soft hand against his lips.  "Shhh," she told him.  "Don't say 
it.  It's our secret."
    "Mom?"  Natalie's fearful voice called through the open door.
    "Coming," Sylvia called back.  And with a graceful turn, Sylvia Lambert left 
the room.

The End

All commentary is welcomed and appreciated at ejdeal@sga.quik.com