X-Sender: fkfanf@mail.hway.net Date: Sat, 22 Mar 1997 11:56:23 -0500 To: fkarchiver@fkfanfic.com From: (by way of FK Fanfic ) Subject: ASHES IN THE WIND Permission to archive granted Special thanks go to Katrinka (Catherine Kendall) who told me to quit playing with this story and post it. Note: This fills in a blank in "Ashes to Ashes" between the time Nick staked Divia and her cremation. Not that this needed to be explained at all, I just thought it'd be fun to do so. All the usual disclaimers apply. I'm merely borrowing the Forever Knight characters to put them through the wringer. Send all comments, constructive criticisms and leads on where to find the juiciest rats to Alibbyp@aol.com. ASHES IN THE WIND Part 1 of 4 by Libby Singleton "She attacked me in my loft," Nick said. "I feigned death. She didn't bother to check." "Even could not sense you," LaCroix admitted, his tone matter-of-fact. "Her aura of evil must have blocked our connection." Nick fought to keep the older vampire's mixture of repulsion and grief from overwhelming his own sense of shock at Divia's viciousness. He also shared his master's restlessness. LaCroix was looking everywhere around him except at the staked, lifeless body of his fallen daughter. He bit his lower lip while his jaw trembled slightly. He started to weave, his eyes rolling upwards. Nick caught and steadied him, then touched the slashes Divia had inflected upon her father's face. The blood was still fresh and flowing. "Your wounds aren't healing very well. Maybe you should feed...I'll get you something." Nick hesitated before sucking the blood from his finger tips. Though centuries had passed since he'd last willingly sampled it, the familiar taste of his master offered some instinctive comfort in the same way a mother's milk soothed an upset child despite the blood's bitter aftertaste of LaCroix's confrontation. "That is very...kind, Nicolas. Let me also cradle Divia in my arms one last time," LaCroix said in a controlled, slow whisper. "My beautiful, beautiful daughter." He spoke the last sentence using his native Latin of the First Century Roman Empire. Nick had learned the Latin dialect from LaCroix centuries ago but replied in English. "The stake..." "Will remain where you put it," LaCroix stated firmly. "The monster she became is not my mortal daughter." Nick nodded, then helped LaCroix kneel beside the body. When he noticed LaCroix was still weak, still struggling with the broken arm and hand bones, Nick eased Divia into her father's lap. LaCroix squeezed his eyes shut. "Before her illness, I was beginning preparations to find her a husband of high standing at her mother's insistence. I thought her too young and was not ready to let go, but girls were considered adults at age twelve." "Today it is the twelve-year-olds who see themselves as adults." "Then nothing has changed." LaCroix fell silent. Sensing he was involved in long ago memories Nick didn't share, the younger vampire used the opportunity to look behind the bar for an unbroken glass and bottle of blood. Filling the glass part way, he took a knife and slit his wrist, letting his own blood mingle with that from the bottle. LaCroix was not weak enough to require the vampiric elements of his blood, but Nick hoped it would aid in the healing if not offer some comfort. "Drink, LaCroix." Nick held the glass to LaCroix's lip. No urging was needed for the glass to be emptied. * * * Natalie tried to tell herself there was no reason for her stomach to be tied in a knot. No doubt the battery in Nick's portable phone needed to be recharged. He wasn't answering at home because he was at The Raven with LaCroix, that explained everything. Not that she necessarily approved, but Nick insisted LaCroix was extremely shaken up leaving Natalie wondering if it wasn't an act to lure the younger vampire back into the control of his master. No matter. She'd just wait for him to return, she decided, punching in the security code to activate the elevator. When the door to the loft opened, Natalie's heart skipped a beat. Nick's normally neat home was trashed. Paintings, furniture and other personal items were everywhere. A partially burned jacket was crumpled by the fire place. "Oh, my God!" she said aloud, not really sure what to do, who could help. Her other contacts with the local vampire community were now dead, and if Divia's own kind couldn't stop the girl, Natalie knew she'd never succeed alone. There was only one option. LaCroix. CERK was airing a re-broadcast, so there was no use trying his call-in number. She grabbed Nick's phone book, looking up The Raven's business number. No luck, an answering machine took the call with LaCroix's unmistakable voice reminding her of the club's business hours and, of course, amateur strip night. She started to panic, The Raven should be open for another hour... unless LaCroix was upset enough to close early. Nick had mentioned business had dropped off drastically. LaCroix's own number was unlisted and she couldn't find it in Nick's Rolodex anywhere, even under a false name. Her heart was pounding with panic when her eyes fell on a copy of the police report listing Lucien LaCroix as the owner of the Raven. The phone number he'd given didn't match the club's. Natalie dialed, hoping above hope LaCroix hadn't given a false number. It rang, once, twice, then a click. An answering machine picked up, "Ah, gentle friend, in my absence please leave a message." That was LaCroix's, the Nightcrawler's, boring home message? How...mundane. "This is Natalie...Dr. Lambert. The loft is trashed, something's happened and I can't find Nick...I mean Nicolas. Please... PLEASE call me on my mobile phone." She gave the number. "I'm on my way over." Driving to The Raven, she had to fight to keep from speeding... or from turning around. LaCroix was dangerous, but her need to find Nick was greater than any fear. She knew LaCroix would be just as frantic if he sensed any danger to Nick, if for more selfish reasons. ********** Before LaCroix finished the first glass, he felt himself beginning to heal. By the second, he revived enough to drink the vintage straight. By the time he finished the bottle, he was able to lift his daughter's body onto the bar which Nicolas had cleared. Still weak, he sat wearily down. No other experience in nearly 2000 years of existence equaled the trials of the past few nights. LaCroix thoughts drifted back to simpler times not long after he'd brought his Nicolas across. His son, awakening during the day, would cry out, afraid LaCroix had left him. Even Janette couldn't calm Nicolas at such times, only his own reassurances of an eternity of hunting together would soothe the very young vampire's fears. Not that Nicolas' hysterics were a weakness, most newly born vampires experienced fears of one kind of another. LaCroix's own memories of this had been brought back to the surface by recent events - his anger at the gods turning to fear as the hot ash turned the day into night, the gaseous fumes burning his lungs, the remarkable strength Divia used when she yanked his head back to expose his neck. He also recalled his confusion at suddenly feeling like a child in the presence of his own daughter. Times change. All too soon Nicolas had rebelled, Janette was no longer truly , and Divia had been reborn only to die again. Such ups and downs kept an eternal existence interesting, but at times like this he longed for a century or two of boredom. "It doesn't look like any of your equipment was damaged, except for the phone," Nicolas said, coming out of the sound booth. He reached for the broom. "Nicolas, I've told you that this...chaos will wait. It is nearly dawn." Nicolas sat on the bar stool next to him. "I'll stay here today." "There is no risk of me trying to revive Divia." "I'm not worried about that." "As you are so constantly reminding me, you have your own life." "LaCroix, you shouldn't be alone, and I don't want to be either. Urs and Vachon were my friends too...or do you want me to leave?" The last sentence was spoken softly. "Of course not, Nicolas. You are always welcome here, you know that. There should be a few bottles of cow blood under the bar...unless you prefer to hunt a few rats. Since Screed's death, I'm afraid the bar has been invaded." That remark coaxed a slight smile from the younger vampire who grimaced at the thought, moving behind the bar to help himself. LaCroix stroked his daughter's hair. "It seems as though only yesterday I first gazed upon her, lifting her up in the air. I was on a campaign when she was born, thus a mere stranger to her. Naturally, I wanted a son, however..." "Nick!" LaCroix looked up to see Dr. Natalie Lambert racing towards the bar, medical kit in hand. He had to fight to keep his canines from protruding, from vamping out, as the woman ran into Nicolas' waiting arms. Nicholas calmed the woman with a loving kiss on the forehead. The display was enough to upset LaCroix's digestion, forcing him to fight a wave of nausea. He sneered. "Nick, I went to your place and...well, I was sure she'd..." Natalie turned to face LaCroix, her expression of relief quickly replaced by a more somber emotion. "I tried calling...Your doors were unlocked...I didn't know where else to turn." "A truly sad and touching tale. Do you mind if I borrow it for my next Valentine's Day broadcast?" LaCroix said, allowing his tone to bite. The mortal woman's face wrinkled in anger. "Listen, LaCroix. Nick told me why Divia was...doing this and I really feel sorry for you this time." "I have deserved sympathy," he growled, approaching the woman who backed away only slightly. "And I'm certainly relieved to know that Nicolas shares my little secrets with the mortal world." Nicolas quickly stepped between them. "Nat, if Divia regenerated once from what is normally a fatal injury, do you think she could survive a staking?" He turned, glancing at LaCroix, hesitantly smiling, before looking away. "Her father has managed to recover from worse in the past." Dr. Lambert's face softened as she nodded towards Divia. "Would you mind? I promise not to disturb her body any more than necessary." The thought of this mortal...healer touching his daughter infuriated him. A less experienced vampire would have made a meal of Natalie on the spot, making sure the experience was as painful as possible. Yet there was no choice in the matter. The doctor's medical skills combined with her knowledge of their kind did have uses. He couldn't trust his own instincts on this one. After all, he thought her dead and entombed once before. He nodded one time, sharply to make sure his true feelings were clear. LaCroix stood by Nicolas and felt his son squeeze his arm as the woman physician looked in Divia's eyes. She then cut the girl's clothing from around the stake and examined the wound. He'd seen far worse in his existence, yet the procedure was painful to observe. Divia now looked so childlike, so helpless, unlike the creature who was breaking every bone in his body only a short while before. "If anything, she's already decomposing," Dr. Lambert said at long last. "Just to be on the safe side, I'd suggest decapitation and..." Before the mortal could finish the sentence, LaCroix had her by the throat, lifting her into the air effortlessly with one hand. "Her head will remain firmly attached to her body or I shall rip yours..." "No!" Nicolas tried to pull him off of the mortal, but LaCroix sent him flying backwards across the room and into a table. Nicolas regained his footing, coming forward with fangs bared and eyes glowing. "No! Let her go, LaCroix!" The tone was dangerous, threatening, and LaCroix answered it by showing his own fangs back. He'd teach the impertinent boy respect for his creator, his father, something he should have done long ago. He'd show Nicolas the power of an Ancient as he put an end to his fascination with mortals once and for all. "Nick, no, its okay," Dr. Lambert managed to choke out. Surprised back to sanity, LaCroix dropped her. In truth, he didn't want to risk losing Nicolas, not now, and he certainly would if he allowed his instincts to rule the woman's fate. Squeezing his eyes shut, he focused on shaking away the vampiric fire, the madness possessing him. She met his gaze firmly when he reopened his eyes though she rubbed her throat with one hand. "Nick told me how she died the first time. I understand." Her tone was professional, non- emotional. Her eyes did not leave his as she reached out and touched his right hand with her own. Though the contact was very slight, he felt the sensation of her mortal warmth traveling throughout his body. He felt his body responding in ways not appropriate to the moment, nor the woman. He quickly removed his hand from hers, reminding himself this was only his nature responding to an easy feeding source, nothing more. In the old days, he'd have taken her on the spot. Unfortunately, modern times called for unnatural restraint. "Nat..." Nicolas whispered, stepping closer. "Nick, I can handle this. Really," the woman said sternly. Her attention turned back to LaCroix. "I know this isn't easy for you. Any of it. You not only lost your daughter, but friends too. You were close to Urs, weren't you." " was growing fond of ," LaCroix corrected. "Urs was truly a child of Venus, very... loving and talented in sexual matters, yet the most innocent of my kind I've ever met. More unhappy than Nicolas with her fate. She had wanted Vachon to kill her, not bring her across. Vachon was young and did not know how to handle the situation. He refused to exert the needed control over her." Dr. Lambert gentle expression disappeared abruptly, becoming unreadable. "Well, ah, yeah, I see..." She looked away briefly, clearing her throat. "As far as Divia goes, I'd recommend cremation." LaCroix nodded, knowing he didn't have a choice, a burial would be too risky. As much as he once loved his birth daughter, he never wanted to see her again. "Would you like me to take care of the body?" the woman asked. "No!" his tone was harsh. Nicolas moved to stand beside the woman. "We've...disposed of bodies before." "Is there anything else I can do? I feel like I should do ." Something to make sure Nicolas is not left alone with me, LaCroix thought. Perhaps she was afraid they'd move on without warning or goodbyes. Or she feared he'd finally convince his son that his search for mortality was nothing more than a folly, a passing phase. Whatever the case, LaCroix had reason to demand she leave, to assure he'd have Nicolas' undivided attention once even if only for one day. But in his loneliness, he couldn't bring himself to let her leave. One by one Toronto's other vampires had left him. "Stay away from LaCroix" was the word on the street. The members of his community had even warned his mortal employees and customers that something bad was due to come down at the Raven. Although only a few days had passed, LaCroix admitted to himself he longed for familiar faces, even those he normally despised. "Divia should be bathed, her body wrapped in a shroud, I think, since I have no toga for her." Nicolas' surprise was clear, his expression and emotions asking "are you sure" without words being spoken. LaCroix merely met his gaze. ********** . Natalie found LaCroix sitting on his bed next to Divia's sheet covered body in a private area of The Raven. Noticing Nick was not in the room, she stopped in the doorway partly out of fear, partly out of concern she'd be interrupting a private moment. LaCroix stood, turning toward her. She studied his face, tense, yet somehow at this moment soft, his eyes betraying his grief. "Nicolas is looking for a coin. He shouldn't be long." "To pay the Ferryman?" Taking a few cautious steps towards the ancient vampire, she offered him the stack of old linen sheets from the basement. LaCroix took the top sheet and started to rip it into strips. "That is how the myth goes. Her body will be wrapped Egyptian style. Divia always enjoyed the toys and trinkets I brought her from that land." Natalie sat the linens on the bed so she could roll the strips into a more manageable form. "I bet she enjoyed hearing about your travels." "She was more intrigued by tales of what I'd ordered done to the conquered. You may not believe this, my dear Doctor, but I tried to shield her from the raping, the torture used to demoralize the enemy, though there is often entertainment to be found in such activities. As a girl child, such things need not have concerned her. I did not argue with Salene, her mother, when she insisted on raising the child herself. I knew Divia would not be brought up in the...brutal way I was. She deserved her time of innocence, her childhood. Instead, she became consumed by the evilness inherited from me." "I don't believe evil is inherited," Natalie said, without thinking, switching to Dr. Natalie Lambert, therapist to creatures of the night. "Even good parents sometimes end up with a rotten kid." The ripping of the sheets became swifter, more aggressive. "Really? As a women of modern medicine, you of all people should understand the theories of genetics." Uh, oh. "Well, uh, of course there's certain personality traits and disorders which are inherited, but environment..." When LaCroix stopped tearing the sheets, Natalie closed her mouth quickly. She'd done it this time. This wasn't Nick going ballistic. LaCroix had no reason to try to calm his outburst. Mortals who upset this vampire tended to turn up on his dinner menu. "Environment? I gave that child everything she asked for and more," LaCroix sneered, pointing to Divia's body. "I made sure she was never thrashed, never punished physically because I KNOW what it is like to be raised otherwise. My child had the best of everything, including love." "I...I understand. Sometimes people are just born good or bad. Look at me, not that I'm bad...What I mean is I turned out okay, well, relatively so, and my grandmother beat me..." "Beat, doctor? I was the only son to a Roman man obsessed with the military. When I was born too early, very weak, he had me exposed, abandoned! Only the death bed tears of my mother forced him to retrieve me. Determined to strengthen me in body and character, I was lashed, and I do mean spanked, for the slightest infraction. Sleeping too late. Tiring too quickly. Finishing second instead of first. Bed wetting. Crying. He had me thrashed for daring to shed tears when my grandfather, , died. 'Generals in the Emperor's army don't cry, Lucius. They don't cry no matter how great the pain.'" Natalie took a few, very small steps towards the door. Where the hell was Nick? "When I was old enough, strong enough, to dare rebel against him, he sent me to Nero. NERO! His reputation with young boys was more than justified. There I was, noble born and bred, being disgraced by the so-called man my father swore his allegiance to." LaCroix turned, facing the wall. "Nick said you taught Nero the tune he played when Rome burned," Natalie whispered, hoping to redirect LaCroix's hysterics. Without turning, LaCroix chuckled harshly. "I did teach him a few songs, but Nero was involved in a theatrical performance at that point in time. I was not in the palace, being too busy starting the flames. I'd hoped the people would turn against Nero. My father was caught in the flames. I watched him burn. Listened to his screams of pain. I could smell his cooking flesh. He wept then. He me for help and I laughed at his agony, staying as long as I dared to ingrain the delightful scene into my memory. I watched until the heat and smoke were threatening to overwhelm me. Damn my father. DAMN HIM." LaCroix spun towards the wall, putting a fist through, whispering something barely audible. "Nat, are you okay?" Nick said softly but frantically behind her. She was startled, but too fascinated by the scene before her to turn. "Yeah, but is he? I swear he's saying, 'Say I love you, Oedipus, say I love you' over and over." "He is," Nick whispered, pushing his way by carrying a small, old box. "I think you ought to leave now." The scientist in Natalie was not about to miss this. Only under very rare and unusual circumstances did vampires become sick with physical illnesses. Emotional illnesses, outside of chemical imbalances, seemed to be another thing entirely. She'd seen Nick in such states of mind, even to the point he'd considered suicide. To watch an even older, more powerful vampire suffering a nervous breakdown was nothing less than fascinating, though she felt slightly ashamed of herself. Too bad her friend, Dr. Laura Haynes, a psychiatrist, couldn't analyze LaCroix. She'd be blown away by the impact of keeping 2000 years of dark secrets. "LaCroix," Nick said gently, keeping his distance. Natalie could see uneasiness in his stance. "I found your coins." The older vampire turned slowly around, pieces of sheetrock crumbling to the ground as he pulled his hand out of the wall. Natalie expected to see signs of grief or pain, instead LaCroix seemed strangely composed. "Thank you, Nicolas." He then looked across the room straight at her. She swore she could see color, the very slightest hint of a blush or perhaps simply the result of a recent feeding, rising in his checks. Natalie smiled nervously. "I've bet you've got quite a coin collection." LaCroix took the box from Nick and opened it. "Pocket change through the ages. Here is a fitting one, I carried it with me when we left Pompeii." When LaCroix removed the coin from the box, Natalie thought she saw smoke coming from his hands, a whiff of burning flesh, before he flung it to the floor. Nick bent to pick it up, but LaCroix stopped him. "My intended use for the coin has apparently made it a religious icon. Neither you nor I will be able to touch it, I'm afraid." Natalie retrieved the coin and held it as she watched LaCroix wrap his daughter with Nick's help. When they reached the head, she placed the coin. LaCroix muttered something in Latin, then bent to kiss his daughter's forehead before completing the binding of her body. "He wished her a good voyage," Nick whispered as he embraced Natalie, letting her bury her face in his chest. "Let's get you some coffee before you go. I'll be right back, LaCroix." From the corner of her eyes as she left the room with Nick, Natalie saw LaCroix slip a pendent from his pocket and raise it to his face as he sat down on the bed. Though his eyes were squeezed shut, he looked so pained, so lonely, so , she wished there was something of comfort she could say. What could she say to a 2000-year-old vampire whose daughter had killed your friends, your lovers and nearly your favorite son? Never mind that only a few months before LaCroix had killed a friend of hers, one already dying of AIDS. Now the same being was torn apart himself by a death. Was this was proof positive of her belief she should not judge the vampires? Sighing softly, she let Nick lead her silently away. *********** "He came close to collapsing. I convinced him to lie down on the couch," Nick said as he passed through the door separating LaCroix's private living area from the bar. No doubt his master had not slept for days. Even the ancients needed rest. "He went right to sleep." Natalie sat at the bar, sipping from a CERK coffee mug. He decided not to tell her LaCroix often used the cup to warm blood to body temperature. It had probably been washed. "He seems to be dealing with a great deal of anger, Nick." Nick sat on the stool next to her, wrapping both his hands around one of hers. "He hid it from me so well." "Why does it make you so mad? You're always trying to hide things from LaCroix. I thought you wanted to break loose from him." "This is different, Nat. I could've helped him deal with it. He did what he had to do. Divia was going out of control. He kicks himself for not having sex with her, yet knows it would have killed him inside. He'd have marched into the sun the next morning, hating himself even more than he does now with every step." "Though I'd argue with his methods, at least he's letting this out," Natalie said, sitting the cup down on the bar, then placing her free hand over Nick's. "That's important for both mortal and vampire. What about his grief, though? Even I can see he's fighting it, trying not to let it show. He's mourning, not only for Divia, but he nearly lost you too. I don't know if 'love' is the right word, but he obviously has some sort of warped fatherly feelings for you." Although his body didn't need the air, Nick drew in a deep breath. He freed his hands from Nat's so he could turn the bar stool around. "You're right. His grief is almost overwhelming me. He's in a lot of emotional pain." "Well, Nick, this is the nineties, you know, not just the nineties as in First Century A.D. Guys can, and do, cry, even the most macho. Men don't have to keep their grief all bottled up inside anymore. It's not emotionally healthy. I think the only reason vampires don't cry very often is you tend to see it as a mortal reaction. Eventually it all has to boil over, even with you guys, in his case violently - since that's how LaCroix seems to respond to everything...I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." "But true," Nick muttered. "In any case, maybe this insistence on hiding emotions is why some vampires go out of control. They snap and go wild." The thought of LaCroix on a rampage petrified Nick. As his creation, it'd be up to him to stop his master. If not, the Enforcers would do it for him. Still..."He'd consider it a weakness, Nat. There's no way he's going to cry, not with me here and I can't leave him alone. Not right now. He's got no one else. To be truthful, I'm not even sure he cry." Natalie nodded in understanding before looking at her watch. "It's nearly noon. I've got to let the office know where I am, then go home and get a few hours sleep. You going to be okay?" She gestured towards the private area. Nick smiled. "I've managed to survive LaCroix's many moods for this long. I'll just be a good...son...until Divia's taken care of, then try to make it into the office. The Captain's beginning to hint I'm booking off too much." Natalie stood and kissed him on the forehead. "I'll let myself out. Try to get some sleep yourself. You're just as moody as LaCroix when you're tired." "Hey, thanks," Nick said with mock sarcasm. "I'll check in with you tonight." After Natalie left The Raven, shutting the door behind her to hide the sun's burning rays, Nick locked it. Too wound up to rest, he spent an half hour cleaning up Divia's blood, along with that from LaCroix's stock, before sensing his master was awake. Quietly peeking into LaCroix's den, Nick saw he was curled up fetal style with his back facing the door. He knew his master was not asleep. "You okay, LaCroix?" he asked. "Go away." LaCroix's words were an order, not a request. Nick turned to go back to the bar, then stopped. This wasn't right. "No." "Leave me alone, Nicolas." Nick then thought of Natalie's words, her warning. "I won't." A few seconds of silence. Nick wanted to run while he could. LaCroix's temper was building up to an explosion sure to make Vesuvius seem like a hiccough. The older vampire rolled over to a sitting position. "I am warning you, Nicolas, now is the time to defy me." Each word was emphasized slowly. "Dammit, LaCroix, I'm not trying to disobey you. Not this time," Nick said, walking quickly across the room to stand directly in front of LaCroix. He forced himself to look his master directly in the eyes instead of the instinctive slightly downcast gaze normally used in confrontations of this type. "Solitude is the last thing you need right now." When LaCroix started to stand, Nick placed a hand on his shoulder, pressing him back down. "Would you listen to me for once. Please." He answered with a dark, brooding glare and tense silence. After a few seconds, LaCroix raised both eyebrows expectantly. Nick found himself absolutely speechless. No words seemed appropriate. Damn, why did this always happen to him? Just like a little boy knowing he was going to be spanked no matter what he said. "Ah..." "You had best start explaining, Nicolas, before what little patience I have runs out." "Well, I just wanted you to know it's okay to..." "To what? Murderously hunt through the city in an attempt to ease the pain and hunger from this day? Care to join me?" "Of course not!" "Oh, Nicolas, it has been far too long since we've done things together..." "This is no time to joke, LaCroix! I'm trying to let you know I won't think you weak if you grieve for Divia and the others." "I grieving. Have you grown so far away from me you can not sense it?" "But you aren't it." Nick knelt on the floor at LaCroix's feet, looking up into his master's unusually moist eyes. "You want to...cry." "?" "I sense it, LaCroix." Biting his lip, LaCroix's chin started to tremble. The older vampire broke eye contact and stared up at the ceiling, then to the side, squeezing his eyes shut. "Why would I want to do that, may I ask? Truthfully, Divia has been dead for 1900 years. So very, very long ago," he whispered hoarsely, barely in control. "Roman Generals do not cry." "You're not a general in any Emperor's army now, LaCroix. You're always telling me to let go of MY mortal bonds..." LaCroix's eyes opened. He stood, slapping Nick across the face hard enough to knock him to the floor. His master's face was contorted in anger though moisture was pooling around the lower lids of his eyes. "As Divia once told me," he whispered hoarsely. "Then do it! Let go of the Roman general who died in Pompeii's ashes!" Nick pleaded, ignoring the pain as he sat up. LaCroix slumped back down to the couch. "Leave me, Nicholas, before I do something to you I will regret." "It's okay." Nick crawled back to his master's feet, placing his hand on LaCroix's knee. "You just need to let out the pain, your grief. You need to weep." "I...I don't think I remember how. I tried when Fleur died, but..." "Just let go, don't fight the pain." LaCroix's mouth opened slightly as if to speak but he remained silent as a tear streaked down his left check. He brought his fists up to his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Standing, Nick rubbed his master's shoulder gently, just as LaCroix had done for him through the ages when he was upset. When Janette had left him. When friends and lovers died. When he was frightened. But with any comfort LaCroix gave came a lecture, then being left alone to think about what had transpired. Nick wouldn't do that. "That's it," he said gently. "It ease your pain. And don't worry, this as a sign of your strength, not a weakness." "Sh...sh...she was so beautiful, so full of life once," LaCroix said. "She'd disobey her mother and sneak away to watch me parade into Pompeii, the triumphant hero. Once I even lifted her into my chariot. Th...then...came a healer...She killed Salene, Vachon, Urs." The sobs were silent, but Nick could feel the trembling of his master's body. He sat down beside him. "It's okay, LaCroix. I'm right here." LaCroix raised his head. His face was tear streaked, his expression full of grief, sorrow and worry. "Sh..she...s..said sh...she...had...killed you. I couldn't s...s...sense you. You ARE my f...favorite." Nick didn't want to be LaCroix's favorite. He wanted freedom from his master's control and meddling. Whether LaCroix spoke from his determination to control, or from his heart, Nick couldn't tell. This, though, was not the time to argue. Not when he was seeing a new side of LaCroix, one which explained the Ancient vampire's devotion to, , him. "She obviously didn't kill me." When LaCroix buried his eyes once again, Nick leaned his face against the older vampire's head. This was as physically close to his master he'd been since the last century, when, with Janette, they'd find themselves hiding from the sun in often cramped quarters. The three would sleep huddled together, LaCroix in the middle with a protective arm around both of his children. Finally, LaCroix's shaking stilled, his tenseness eased. He raised his head and leaned back, staring straight ahead, not bothering to wipe the moisture from his face. "No one is to know about this...incident, Nicolas." An order, though spoken in calm tones. Nick nodded. "Neither mortal nor vampire, as if anyone would believe it." "I must admit, it did...help ease the damnable pain," he whispered, placing a hand over his chest. "I know." Nick placed his hand over LaCroix's. LaCroix responded with a slight smile. "Now we both need rest before sending Divia to join the wind." Standing, Nick gestured for LaCroix to stretch out. Then he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the sofa, his hand once again lightly touching LaCroix's. He watched his master's still, deathlike sleep, wondering if he dreamt of a small girl awaiting his gifts and hugs upon returning from conquests, or of ways to lure his immortal son back into a more insidious embrace. Deciding that for at least this night, he really didn't care one way or the other, Nick leaned over to kiss his master's ring before succumbing to daytime's demand for slumber. Mortality could wait until night came again. END