Disclaimers Here

"Man o' man o' man. I hate it when Nick manages to leave me all the paperwork." Schanke leaned back in his chair and looked at the virtual mountain of folders and papers that still covered his desk. "There must be a forest sitting here!" he grumbled to himself. After an hour and a half of work, he had barely dented the mass that had covered both his and Nick's desks upon his arrival at the precinct. "Why are you always the lucky one, Donny boy," Schanke groused and shook his head. Glancing at the clock, he groaned when he realized he still had an hour before he could sign out.

Natalie walked into the squad room with a folder in her hand and smiled as she dropped it on top of Schanke's pile. "Hi, Schanke. Brought you the Chapman file." She glanced around, but didn't see any sign of Nick.

"Gee, that's great, Natalie. I really need another file right this minute." Sighing, he swung around to face the coroner, who was still glancing around the precinct.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Natalie attempted to keep the laughter out of her voice, and asked, "You get stuck with the paperwork again?"

"What do you think? That partner of mine is the world's worst about doing his share of the reports," he growled, as he waved his hand toward Nick's desk.

"Where is the man in question, by the way?"

Schanke looked at Natalie and smacked himself on the forehead. "I forgot to tell you. He came down sick while we were out. Janette put him up at the Raven for the day." His face downcast at his oversight, Schanke continued, "Jeez, I'm sorry. I meant to tell you, but with all this paperwork..." he trailed off, hoping she wasn't too upset.

Nat forcefully suppressed the sudden lurch of fear that sprang up at his words. She leaned down and quietly asked, "When did all this happen?"

Don looked up at the clock, then turned back, a slight frown forming on his face. "A couple of hours ago. I'm really sorry," he repeated, feeling like a cad for forgetting to inform Nat.

"It's okay, Schank. I probably couldn't have done anything to help anyway." The fear settled in the pit of her stomach like a rock. "I'll go by and check on him on my way home."

Noticing the worried look on her face, the balding detective reached up and gently grasped her forearm. "Don't worry, Nat. It's just that flu he's been trying to come down with these last couple of days."

"Yeah, you're probably right. You did say he was at the Raven?"

"Yeah. Janette said he went to sleep almost immediately," Don replied, trying to allay her worry. "In fact, she made me take a cab back. She wouldn't wake him to get his car keys."

With this last bit of information, Nat's knot of dread tightened. Something was definitely up. She stepped away from the desk and glanced around the precinct again, then threw a half hearted smile at Schanke. "Well, I need to get back. No telling how many customers might have arrived since I left. See ya later, Schank," floated by as she hurried out of the squad room.

"Sure, Nat. Don't worry. He'll be fine," he yelled after her as she walked out the door. He shook his head and smiled briefly at the coroner's obvious concern, then when his eyes again landed on the mountain of paper, a low groan could be heard. "Man o' man o' man."

Janette heard the back door slam against the wall. Rushing into the hallway, she saw her master striding in out of the pale early morning light, faint wisps of smoke rising off his head, shoulders and back. He was carrying what she presumed was her brother, tightly wrapped inside LaCroix' black coat. Moving past her, LaCroix hurried toward his bedroom, his usual stoic features more drawn than she had seen in a very long time.

While the elder vampire disappeared into the bedroom, she quickly secured the back door, then followed him. She was worried. Just before LaCroix' appearance, the sense of her brother had returned, softly whispering to her, erratic and fragile in strength.

Pausing in the threshold of the room, she watched as LaCroix carefully lowered his wrapped bundle onto the mattress, then sat on the edge of the bed.

"Close the door, Janette."

"LaCroix?" Janette breathed anxiously, feeling her father's deep worry. She knew things were very bad; her link to Nicholas was barely there, weakly telling her he lived, but nothing else.

Securing the bedroom door, she moved closer as her sire carefully lifted the collar of the coat open, exposing its precious contents. Janette inhaled sharply when she saw Nicholas' battered features. "Merde!"

LaCroix opened the coat further, exposing Nicholas' neck and the top of his shoulders, then leaned over and switched on the bedside lamp. Janette quickly switched the other lamp on, throwing more light onto the bed.

With the added light, Nick's deathly pale coloring became immediately evident. Turning his child's head toward him bluntly displayed several obvious signs of his lost battle. The elder man trailed his fingertips down the large bruise covering his son's right cheek. Gently grasping Nicholas' chin, LaCroix noted the split lip and trails of dried blood around the nose and the corners of his mouth. He tilted Nick's head back and frowned darkly when he saw the finger-shaped bruising around his throat, as well as several vicious bite marks on both sides of his neck.

"Who did this to him, LaCroix?" Aware of Janette's sharp worry, he wasn't surprised that she'd slipped closer, coming to stand at his shoulder.

"I originally thought he was playing *policeman* with one of young ones. However..." LaCroix glanced over his shoulder and met his daughter's eyes. "Something unusual happened during the argument in which he became embroiled in."

Returning her attention to the motionless body on the bed, Janette hissed with anger as she watched her sire examine Nicholas' mauled neck. "This," she whispered angrily, gesturing at her brother's throat, "involved more than *just* an argument!"

LaCroix controlled the urge to snarl, offering a slight nod to signify his agreement to his daughter's remark. "We now have to find out why and who."

LaCroix shifted his son slightly during his examination. With the motion, a flash of pain coursed through Nicholas, arcing across the link to touch both family members. Frowning, he cautiously opened the coat further, exposing more of Nicholas' shoulders and chest.

"Oh, merde!" Janette whispered, when the sight of his blood streaked chest and the ragged, broken stake buried in his left breast were revealed. She placed one hand on her master's shoulder for emotional support.

"Have several bottles of uncut blood brought in here as soon as possible!" LaCroix glanced away from Nicholas to look at his daughter, who was still standing in place shocked, staring at her brother's beaten form.

"Janette!"

Jerking back to awareness, Janette quickly blurted, "Oui...bottles of uncut blood! I'll get Miklos to bring it at once!" and rushed out the door.

"What you have gotten yourself in to this time?" LaCroix muttered softly as he opened the coat further. He knew by Nicholas' coloring that he was desperately low on blood. Biting into his wrist, he let his blood trickle into his son's mouth, hoping the sanguine fluid running down his child's throat would revive him enough to spur a desire to feed. If not, then more drastic measures would be needed. He continued to slowly feed his child until the wound closed on its own, then licked his wrist clean. No response. He sighed, feeling his frustration and worry surge forward. "It's always the hard way with you, isn't it Nicholas."

Without a knife to assist him in the feeding, LaCroix turned to the next problem: the stake. Probing the wound, he saw that the fragment had been snapped off flush with the skin, with the other end barely breaking through Nicholas' back slightly below the shoulder blade. He frowned in annoyance when he realized the only way to safely extract it would be to push it on through. Bracing his hands against his son's shoulder, LaCroix positioned both thumbs on the stake. Nicholas stirred at the touch, then bolted upright, a hoarse scream bellowing from him when LaCroix applied pressure to the stake and shoved it through his shoulder, quickly jerking it free.

For a moment, LaCroix thought his child might revive when Nicholas' eyes opened, but they quickly closed again. Nicholas limply dropped back to the bed, a ragged, deep breath stuttering from him. LaCroix glanced up when the door opened and Miklos entered carrying a small case filled with long necked bottles. "Place it here by the bed," he instructed the bartender.

LaCroix carefully ran his hands across Nick's chest, checking for additional damage. He noted the scrapes and abrasions that plainly declared the viciousness of the recent fight. Lightly pressing near another purplish bruise that covered a large area on his left side, the elder vampire sensed the flinch and burst of pain at the same time a mumbled whimper groaned from Nick. At least one broken rib, he decided, after gently brushing his hand over the discolored area. Nick tossed his head at the pressure and breathed a low moan of pain.

"Do you know what happened yet?" Miklos' soft voice asked as LaCroix continued to check over his son.

"No." Looking at the young bartender, he rumbled, "Whoever did this very nearly drained him." LaCroix suppressed the fury he felt at his favorite's attack. Now was *not* the time to deal with that particular emotion.

"Well... it must have been one of the older members of the Community to accomplish this much damage. Nick isn't any pushover," Miklos replied, as he gazed at the unconscious vampire.

His anger still swirling, LaCroix growled something noncommittal. He glanced down as he felt Nicholas move slightly. He needed to get more blood into him! He needed a knife. Deciding not to wait for Janette's return, LaCroix looked across the bed at Miklos. "Stay here with him. I will return in a moment." At Miklos' nod of agreement, LaCroix left in search of his daughter.

"No, you *don't* need to come over here," Janette replied into the receiver, her annoyance beginning to show in her voice. "Why don't you go home and let us take care of him. We've been doing so far longer than you've been alive."

"Janette, I can help. I know something's been wrong lately and now he's *sick*. I know I can be of assistance. Let me help him." Natalie was ready to cry, to scream, to hit something as her frustration level soared through the roof.

"Doctor..." Janette closed her eyes for a moment, regretting once again the impulse that had urged her to answer the phone. Sighing in exasperation, she continued, "I'll call you later today to let you know how he is. That's the best I can do."

"Janette, please..." Natalie asked one last time, her fears growing. "What's wrong with Nick?"

"Doctor." Janette began when LaCroix appeared in the doorway of her office.

"Janette!" He knew the coroner was on the phone having heard her voice as he opened the door.

"Later, doctor. I'm needed elsewhere, " Janette concluded and hung up the phone. Looking at her master's scowl, she hurried to offer an explanation. "When she called, I felt I should reassure her so she wouldn't try and come here today."

Growling something under his breath about interfering humans, LaCroix glared at his daughter. "I need a knife. Bring one."

Stepping back into the darkened corridor, he was about to head back to the bedroom when a resounding noise shattered the stillness of the club. LaCroix strode toward the club's main room, with Janette a few steps behind him, as another, then a third reverberating stroke thundered through the air.

LaCroix stepped into cavernous main room of the Raven just as the front door gave under the insistent pounding and slammed back against the wall with a resounding crack. A slim, tall figure darted inside, smoke swirling thickly around its shrouded form. Reaching through the bright shaft of morning light, a pale hand shot out from the folds of the sable-shaded cape and slammed the front door closed, blocking the sun's intrusion.

The old vampire carefully moved forward, determined to assure himself this late comer was no threat to his weakened son. He snarled silently to himself, his lip pulled up to expose his canines. Then, I may have to teach this one a thorough lesson concerning the appreciative merits of arriving before dawn. But only after I'm assured Nicholas is recovering, he amended to himself as he silently stalked toward the bundled, smoking vampire.

He reached out and spun the figure around, causing the dark cape to flutter and fall open. The deep hood covering the identity of the silent intruder slid back, pooling across wiry, graceful shoulders. LaCroix slowly lowered his arm, sparing little notice to Janette's quick gasp of surprise as a face they'd not seen in centuries came into view.

"Tabari." To say he was surprised would have been an understatement.

"Hello, Lucien." The tall, dark headed man returned LaCroix' stare without hesitation. His swarthy complexion denoted him a Moor, with high cheekbones and a neatly trimmed black goatee and mustache covering the lower portion of his face. Power and age equal to LaCroix' hummed through him, obvious to any vampire with their wits about them.

His dark eyes sparkled when he noticed the surprise and annoyance that crossed the Roman's features.

"What are you doing here?" LaCroix let his irritation show in his voice. Although they had never been enemies, caution was wise when dealing with one nearly as old as himself.

"I came to offer my help, Lucien. I know what has happened to your son."

LaCroix straightened abruptly. "How could you know anything about *that* unless..." he growled. Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed Tabari by the throat. Angry, amber-tinted eyes glared into gold-flecked brown irises as Tabari's hand grasped hold of LaCroix' wrist.

Janette hurried forward, hoping to forestall any confrontation until things were more fully explained. "LaCroix, wait!"

"Stay out of this Janette!"

Tabari broke LaCroix' grip on his throat and stepped back a pace. "Same old Lucien," he drawled, rubbing his throat. "Quick to anger, quick to jump to conclusions, especially where your children are concerned."

Janette glided closer, trying to appease her father. "He's never been an enemy. You know this."

Taberi gave Janette a graceful, slight bow, his eyes again sparkling with amusement. "Thank you, my dear. Gracious, as always, I see."

LaCroix glared across the paces between them and growled as he took hold of himself and brought his emotions under control. "What do you want, Tabari?"

"I told you...to help."

"I don't think..." LaCroix began when a crash echoed from the back rooms. He glanced at his uninvited guest, then with a begrudged nod of acceptance, turned, and rushed into the dark corridor, with Janette and Tabari close behind him.

Nearing his room, he heard the unmistakable clamor of a fight inside the bedroom, followed by a wild snarl as he jerked the door open. Walking to the foot of the bed, LaCroix espied Miklos standing between the bed and the far wall, blocking the escape of the bloody, snarling aberration that was standing unsteadily in the far corner of the room, a deadly, rumbling growl resonating from him.

"Oh, Nicola!" Janette whispered in shock as she and Tabari stepped into the room behind LaCroix. They stopped near the door, afraid they might startle the badly wounded vampire into flight.

"He's in worse shape than I hoped." Tabari's whispered words mirrored Janette's thoughts as they watched Nick retreat further away from LaCroix and Miklos.

With Nicholas standing unsteadily in the corner of the room, the damage he had suffered was plain to see. The bruises and bloody streaks covering his body vividly stood out against the ashen color of his skin, with the stake wound being the most serious needing attention. His moving off the bed created more problems when several of his wounds began to seep, weakening him further. The final affront he had suffered became apparent when he stumbled and fell against the wall. The tattered remains of his jeans, which still hung from his belt, shifted with his movement, revealing the thin streams of blood that were beading down the inside of his legs.

Janette quickly glanced at her master, afraid her assumption concerning Nicholas' condition was correct. She glanced at LaCroix, her question brushing lightly against his mental shields, asking for confirmation. The pained look that crossed his face answered it. Nicholas had been raped -- and if the blood was still freely flowing, the rape must have been extremely vicious.

Keeping his eyes on his son, LaCroix slowly eased closer until he was standing near Miklos. "What happened?" he demanded softly, glancing at the bartender and then the room. One lamp was on the floor, smashed, and the bed was askew from the wall with the bed linen partially dragged into the floor. Several bloody smears marred the wall where Nicholas had leaned against it when he moved away from the bed.

"He awoke a minute or two ago. I thought I'd give him one of the bottles to drink while you were gone. When I approached him, he struck the bottle from my hand, snarled and lunged at me." Fingering the front of his torn shirt, Miklos drawled, "Lucky for me he's as weak as he is," and gingerly fingered the red welts rising across his chest. Another snarled warning reverberated through the room, drawing everyone's attention to the unsteady and completely vamped Nick. A slight smile quickly moved across Miklos' face. "I guess one mouthful of your blood *was* enough to revive him."

LaCroix took a step toward his injured son, then stopped when Nick's head jerked up and he rumbled a deep, guttural growl in warning. Enflamed red eyes tracked LaCroix' slow, cautious approach. The bloodsweat beading across Nicholas' skin and the tenseness of his body as he battled to stay upright informed the elder man just how badly his child was hurt. Reaching through the link, he tried to influence his son, but all he could sense was a multitude of muddled confusing impressions swirling around, though desperation and fear were paramount. LaCroix watched as Nicholas pulled his left arm tightly against his waist in an attempt to protect his injured ribs and leaned heavily into the corner, his exhaustion obvious.

Janette moved further into the room, with Tabari remaining near the threshold. At the motion, Nick's attention pivoted toward the door. His nostrils flared and his body tensed in preparation to flee when he sensed an escape route possibly opening.

LaCroix noted Nicholas tensing and realized what was about to happen. "Close the door!" A blur started across the room, heading for the exit as Nicholas flashed by. At the last moment, Miklos blocked the way and wrapped his arms around the desperate vampire.

With the first touch of Miklos' hands, Nick went berserk. He rounded on the bartender, attacking without regard to his injuries. LaCroix quickly stepped up behind his son, in an attempt to restrain and calm him. He slipped his left arm around his son's throat and reached around to snag Nicholas' right hand, pulling it behind his back. As Miklos backed away, LaCroix made sure his forearm was under his child's chin, insuring he wouldn't be bitten, then carefully pulled Nicholas back to the corner of the room, away from any possible escape.

"Thanks, LaCroix," Miklos gasped, rubbing his throat. There were several bruises and welts visible, showing his narrow escape.

"How are we going to treat him while he's in this state?" Janette asked, trying to be heard over the noise rising from the scuffle going on in the corner.

Nick brought his left arm up to claw at the restraint across his throat, then gasped when brutally sharp pain ran through the entire left side of his torso. LaCroix felt the blinding pain burst through his son at the sudden movement. He wasn't surprised when Nicholas dropped his arm back to his waist, though he continued to contest his master's efforts to contain him.

Nick forced LaCroix into the wall behind them -- hard. With a sudden exhale of air, the elder vampire balanced against the wall and held his son...and waited for him to tire. He was amazed Nick was even conscious, much less still fighting him. Nick shouldn't be able to manage this kind of output of energy for long considering his physical state.

"Something needs to be done, before he loses what little blood he still has," Tabari stated as Nick slammed LaCroix against the wall once more. He had noticed Nicholas' wounds had begun to bleed again.

Standing by the side of the bed, Miklos watched as the two vampires struggled in the corner. When a possible solution occurred to him, he stepped closer to the struggling pair. "LaCroix, curare might have the desired effect we're needing to calm him," he suggested.

Feeling no lessening to Nicholas' panic, LaCroix glanced toward his daughter. "Get some, Janette," he ordered just as Nick managed to elbow him in the midsection. He tightened his hold, then pulled his son back against him, murmuring to him in an attempt to calm him. He sensed the utter desperation and despair that coursed through his favorite.

"Shhh, Nicholas. We are not your enemy," he whispered into his son's ear. A harsh snarl from Nicholas was his only answer. He could feel the strength seeping out of his son. Though just as frantic, his struggles were weakening.

A few moments later, Janette quickly slipped back into the bedroom with a small, dark-colored bottle in her hand. "How are we going to get it into him?" she inquired.

"I don't think he would notice if it was mixed with a little blood," Tabari offered.

"Yes, all right." Turning toward the bed, she pulled one of the bottles from the crate and began to mix the drink for her brother.

Nicholas, perceiving Janette's movement across the room, pushed against his master, which slammed both of them back against the wall again. LaCroix grimaced at the hard impact. "Stop it, Nicholas!" he hissed. "We are trying to help you."

"Non, je vous en prie," (No. Please, don't...)," whispered Nick, his eyes still whirling red. Despite his body's exhaustion, he continued to struggle, desperately wanting free of LaCroix' restraint.

LaCroix knew something was very wrong. His connection to Nicholas was weak, wavering like a distorted mirror. He had been able to glean enough from his child's mind to realize his son thought he was still fighting his attacker.

Janette allowed a small amount of the amber liquid to drip into the blood filled glass and turned to face the pair in the corner. She hoped LaCroix had calmed her brother since Nick had slowed his struggles, and stood panting from the exertion. Thinking he had tired, she rounded the foot of the bed, with the doctored glass in her hand.

Spotting what he perceived as another enemy, Nick began to violently struggle against LaCroix. His alarm was apparent as he fought despite his master's grasp, his body tensed for flight.

"LaCroix?" She didn't know how to proceed. Nicholas was in a near frenzy, his face pale and strained.

"Miklos, grab his arm and help me hold him still," LaCroix commanded as Nick strained against the chokehold.

Miklos quickly moved to LaCroix' aid and grabbed hold of Nicholas' free arm. He ignored the savage snarl Nick uttered as he slipped Nick's arm under his own, locking it tightly within his grasp. Miklos resisted the sudden jerk Nick gave as the injured vampire tried to pull away, then winced in sympathy when Nick shrieked in pain when he stressed his damaged side.

"Non, non, fichez moi seul! (No, no, leave me alone!)" Nick yelled, his voice rising as his panic grew. "Non, pas ceci! (No, don't do this!) Je n'ai pas fait rien a' vous! (I haven't done anything to you!)"

LaCroix leaned his head down and softly replied, "It's all right, Nicola. We're trying to help you."

"Non, non!! "Laissez moi! (No, no! Let me go!)" Nick cried as he attempted to pull away from the tight restraint both men had on him.

Tabari closed his eyes and felt along the thin thread he could sense from Nicholas. The fact that there was a connection between them at all confirmed his suspicions concerning what had happened to LaCroix' child. He reached down that faint bond, trying to soothe the fear and dampen the images that continued to flood the younger vampire's mind.

Working silently, Tabari struggled to help Nick gain a small foothold among the smothering mental barrage. Having a small amount of success, Tabari softly stated, "LaCroix, try to soothe him through the link again."

LaCroix threw an angry glare at Tabari over his son's shoulder, and grimaced as he felt another lance of pain blaze through Nicholas. Sighing softly, he closed his eyes, then reached through the link, and attempted to touch his child. Pushing through the swirling chaos of emotions, he strained for contact until he felt a weak answering touch of recognition, followed by another wave of fear. "It's all right, Nicola. You are safe now," he vocalized and sent through the link, hoping to reassure his son.

Wanting to help, Janette quickly moved to stand in front of Nicholas. Raising her hand to stroke his face, she hesitated when her paramour flinched away. Since it was obvious physical touch wouldn't calm him, she added her voice to LaCroix' in an effort to soothe her lover.

"Shhh, Nicola. It's all right. We're going to take the pain away. Janette and LaCroix are here, mon cher."

"LaCroix? Janette?" he repeated, unsure, his voice faint.

Finally! "Oui, Nicola," LaCroix quietly answered. "Let us help you, mon fils." Nicholas had managed to separate himself from all the conflicting images that were pounding through his head.

Nick gradually stopped struggling and stood in his master's grasp, shivering in reaction. The two members of his family continued to whisper to him, hoping to continue to calm him enough to drink the glass of blood Janette held.

"Nicola. Boit (Drink)," LaCroix instructed, nodding to his daughter to bring the glass closer.

"Shhh, mon coeur," he whispered feeling Nicholas tense when Janette raised her hand. "It's all right. No one will hurt you. Drink."

"Boit, mon cher." Janette brought the glass to his lips and held it as Nick tentatively tasted the liquid within. At the first taste of human blood, his hunger flared up and he quickly drained the glass. Miklos released Nick's arm, leaving him in LaCroix' grasp, then retreated with Janette to stand near Tabari to wait. Nick was still trembling, but for now, he had stopped resisting. He leaned his head back against LaCroix' shoulder and whispered, "J'ai peur, LaCroix." (I'm afraid, LaCroix.)"

"Soit tranquille, Nicola. Je suis pres de toi. (It's all right, Nicholas. I'm right here.)"

As more of Nick's weight leaned against him, LaCroix released the restraining hold he had on his child's arm and shifted his grip. Turning him sideways, the elder man wrapped his left arm around his son's shoulders and held Nicholas tightly against his chest. When a brief flash of fear arched across the link from his son, he wasn't surprised when Nick, needing some reassurance, reached out and grabbed hold of his master's shirt.

"Ne moi quitter pas, LaCroix. (Don't leave me, LaCroix.)," he whispered, nestling his head firmly against his master's shoulder.

With the curare tightening its hold, LaCroix felt Nicholas' legs finally give out. The elder man shifted his grip and lifted his son into his arms. He gently laid the semi-conscious man on the bed, then sat down next to him. Leaning closer until his head was next to his son's ear, LaCroix whispered, "Je te ne quitterai... jamais, Nicola. (I won't ever leave you, Nicholas)," as the exhausted vampire surrendered to sleep.

To Chapter 10

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