CONTEMPLATING MORTALITY A Forever Knight story by TJ Goldstein and Sorcha O'Faolin [NOTE: This story takes place during third season but before "Fever". We'd really love some feedback on this at !] Part 1 of 6 "Once again gentle listeners, it's story time. There once was a boy who wished to cut the strings that bound him to the one who made him, his master. This youth rejected and betrayed the purpose he was created for. He had but one desire, to be real. And what do you suppose happened to him when he got his wish? Did he live happily ever after?" He laughed, a low and taunting laugh. "Does anyone? "The voice purred seductively over the radio. He knew that as always, Nicholas would be out there somewhere listening. "Mortality, dear listeners. How it haunts you when your time is limited. Life, the brief candle of existence, can be snuffed out by the gentlest of breezes. How the fates toy with those who must struggle to survive, picking and choosing. Who shall go and who shall be left behind? How could anyone long to be so fleeting a thing? Lord what fools these mortals be." "You know, Nick, if you didn't listen to that fire and brimstone, you might be a in a better mood once in a while." Tracy turned off the car radio as they pulled up to the building -- or what was still standing after seemingly decades of neglect. "Looks like this is it." Nick listened carefully and didn't hear anything out of the ordinary -- until Tracy suddenly bolted from the car, shouting "I'll be right back!" over her shoulder. He watched her disappear into the building. He sighed and got out to follow her. The building seemed to be long deserted, which fit in well with the neighborhood in general. As he skirted leftover debris here and there he reflected that if he were going to leave a body somewhere, this was as good a place as any. "Tracy?" Nick tried to sense his partner as he picked his way up a dilapidated stairway. Where had that girl run off to this time? He kicked open the door at the top of the stairs and quickly swept his gun -- and his senses -- over the room. The anonymous tip had said they'd find a body in the condemned building, but so far they'd come up empty. Except ... there was something buzzing in his senses, but he couldn't place it. Something his instincts were screaming to tell him. If only he could figure out what it was ... Was Tracy in danger? Had she found something? He growled in spite of himself. He never should have taken this call. Not so close to sunrise. He turned a corner and heard a 'click'. It was barely an instant between the moment he realized what was bothering him and the moment the explosion sent him flying into a solid wall edging a suddenly not so solid floor. His stomach turned as he began to fall and in the same instant that he regained his senses and began to fly his chest exploded and light flooded behind his eyes as something slammed into the back of his head. And then nothing. Suddenly LaCroix's senses picked up something. He flipped the music on and reached out to see what was there, but it had already gone. He shrugged and focused his attentions back on the control panel. Tracy shook her head and saw the dust fall from her hair. "Vachon?" He had been here just before the explosion, she'd seen him. She sat up in the small space that the collapse had left her. She didn't seem to be hurt, at least. "Nick!!!" Suddenly she regretted slipping away from him to see Vachon. But it was only supposed to be a moment! She tried not to panic. "Anybody?" She wasn't really worried about Vachon. After all, he'd been practically dismembered in an airline crash, and not lost so much as his sense of humor. What could an explosion do to a vampire? *But Nick didn't have that advantage*, she thought. She turned, startled, as she heard something move behind her. Was it a rat, dislodged in the blast? Was the building going to collapse completely? A piece of debris moved and she saw a hand. "Vachon!" The hand began to push away debris and soon Vachon was standing. "Trace," he was surprised to see her. "What are you doing here?" He began to brush the dust off. "Investigating a tip. I could ask the same of you. Why are you here?" Then she suddenly remembered. Nick was still somewhere inside, and he could be hurt, or worse. She didn't want to think about the worst. She took Vachon's hand. "Nick is here too and he could be hurt. We've got to find him." "I'm sure he's fine, Trace." But even as he said it, he realized he couldn't sense Nick. But considering how weak his presence was usually felt, and with the confusion of everything, he wasn't too surprised. On the other hand, if something serious happened to him... He shuddered. "Listen, let's get you out of here and I promise I'll find Nick." "Oh yeah, right. I really should go and call this in." She pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and several pieces fell off of it. "So much for that." "Come on," Vachon said, and hurried her through the tunnel he had burrowed into the debris. It was the queasiness that woke Nick. It edged into his consciousness slowly, the only thing in his awareness until -- BAM! -- the pain arrived. The pain in his head was unbearable but it was nothing compared to the fire in his chest. Reflexively he twisted, trying to get away from the pain and realized that he couldn't, that there was nothing to twist against and if he tried he made it worse -- could it be worse? He forced himself to calm down, to stop that inhuman screaming that could only have been his. Finally it stopped and as he stopped struggling the pain settled to a burning flame in his chest -- his head was minor in comparison -- and he tried to take stock before it consumed him. It wasn't a flame. With his left hand he reached back and felt it. A small crossbeam had pushed itself up against his back ... no ... With wordless horror he squeezed his hand between the wall and his chest and realized that the beam had impaled him, that all of a sudden the thought of a wooden stake through his heart wasn't so old fashioned anymore. But it wasn't through his heart -- not quite. He could feel the blood soaking his clothes as he hung from the "V" the wooden beam had made as it slammed through the wall, and him. The blood was wet and his clothes chilled him even more than the Hunger he could feel building. It wasn't a Hunger for sustenance. He knew that. It was a hunger to replace the blood that slowly drained from his chest and stained the wall in strange, abstract patterns. Perhaps it was his best painting yet. He considered trying to lift himself off the beam while he still might have had the strength, but he realized that the pain in his head was from the heavy object that had fallen or been blown into him, effectively pinning his body to the wall as his legs dangled beneath him. Something else was nagging at him and he tried to squelch the panic in his throat. He looked up and tried to see the stars through the ruined roof, but the sky was not black, instead taking on the slightest blue tinge. Was it clouds or ... How long until sunrise? CONTEMPLATING MORTALITY A Forever Knight story by TJ Goldstein and Sorcha O'Faolin Part 2 of 6 Vachon knew that if worst came to worst, he could spend the daylight hours in the shelter of the bombed out building, biding his time until he could safely return home. This was definitely the last time he got involved in police business. But what about Knight? *You know*, he thought, *he may well have gone home, and I'm going to spend the day hiding from the authorities because I stuck around here too long trying to find him.* That was when he heard it. The wail of a vampire near death was enough to chill his very being. He flew as best as he could around debris in the general direction from which it had come, but saw nothing as he scrambled over what looked like a collapsed ceiling. But he smelled blood. Close by. He followed the scent until he was sure he had found it but found nothing. Nothing but blood on the collapsed floor he was climbing over. Then he felt it, so weak he was surprised he picked it up at all. He looked up and saw ... shoes? Knight didn't sound like he was in a position to be levitating in mid-air. He was probably dangling his feet, doubled up over a gap in the upper story's wall. "Knight?" He flew up to the detective and almost fell in shock as he saw the reality of Knight's situation. His body was suspended on a beam that seemed to enter his back just behind his heart and emerge from his chest just below it, hanging on the wall like a side of beef. The back of his head was covered with blood where it made contact with a concrete stantion crushing him against the wall. Vachon was quiet for a moment, coming around to see Knight's face, to talk to him. It was an image that would be etched in his mind for a long time to come. His fangs had dropped and his eyes glowed a deep red as his head lolled against the wall, as though he had been killed in the midst of a furious strike. "Knight?" Vachon said quietly, awed by the sight. Nick seemed to notice him for the first time. His hand lifted slightly, trying without success to grab Vachon. "Help me ... " It was barely audible. Vachon looked for a moment, trying to figure out what he could do. The beam extended all the way into what was left of the ceiling. Sliding him off it was out of the question. And the sunrise was coming. He looked up through the roof as Nick had done. Soon. First things first. He held his wrist out to the detective who tore into it so violently that the blood dribbled over his chin, and Vachon tried to maneuver it so that he could swallow as much as possible. He would need it. Finally he had to pull back or let Knight drain him completely. "Look, I don't know if you can hear me well enough to understand, but I'm going to try and get you out of here." *First things first*, he thought, and threw the concrete off Knight, realizing at that moment his mistake as what was left of the wall collapsed, sending Knight crashing down to the lower floor and covering him with debris. *Oh man,* Vachon thought, instantly at his side, seeing the wildly staring eyes searching for meaning and flooded with relief that Knight was still alive -- or as alive as he had been. He could disentangle Knight from the wreckage and let him drain him dry, it wouldn't help. He was too far gone. Vachon caught a glimpse of the sky and realized that he would have to go for help, and go . "Listen, I'm going for help. I'll be back as soon as I can." He began to lift off and realized that Knight had his ankle in a death-grip. He knelt back down to pry the fingers free. Knight seemed to search his face, looking for his eyes. Finally he found them. "Get Natalie ... Natalie Lambert ... Doctor ..." *Whatever*, Vachon, thought. "OK, OK, I'll go get her. Just let go of my ankle or I'm not going to be able to get anybody." Knight nodded weakly and his hand dropped to the floor. Vachon said nothing, taking off into the brightening sky. Doctor Natalie Lambert, sure. Why not take out an ad announcing you're a vampire, Knight? No mortal Doctor could help him. There was only one thing that could save him now. His skin prickled in the pre-dawn light as he streaked toward the Raven. Tracy would have cursed if it had been in her personality. She finally managed to crawl her way out of the building and find Nick's car to use the radio and it was locked! Every door on it! She considered for a moment that Nick would her if she hurt the car before trying to tear the vinyl top, but without something sharp -- even her gun was somewhere in the building, she didn't get far. She let out a yell in frustration. "Nick could be dying and I'm looking for a payphone!" Nick watched Vachon go. It would be all right now. Natalie was coming. She would know what to do. But as he struggled to pull air into his lungs he knew he was wrong. The fall had pushed the stake up higher in his chest cavity, against his lungs, his heart. How long would it be now? His thoughts went back to Natalie, that he couldn't leave without seeing her first. When he'd tried to leave without saying good-bye that last time, she'd been so hurt. He couldn't hurt her again. But he'd been thinking only about how different things had suddenly become when Schanke ... When Schanke died. Now he was going to die, too. He would have smiled, had he the energy. *You wanted to be mortal. You didn't want to live forever. *What would happen now*, he thought. When he died, what would happen? He'd gone through phases of belief in 800 years, from believing he would simply cease to exist, since he had no soul to reach salvation with, to absolute certainty that he would burn in hell for eternity. His current phase was one of ambiguity. He didn't know what was going to happen, wasn't sure he wanted to know. He came to the sudden realization that what might happen was for Nat to get there and find him gone. *No!* He could see her crying, begging him not to go. He couldn't do that. Not to her. He realized with a start that he'd never to leave anyone behind like that -- or when he had, he had forced himself not to think about it. Now he could do nothing think. Usually he was the one who was left behind. For how many friends had he been a pallbearer? How many hundreds of mortals had he mourned? He had never really thought of his own death this way. Certainly he had contemplated putting an end to his miserable existence. Many times. But it had always been an abstract concept, less death than cessation of life. He remembered sadly that he was already dead. So what was it, exactly, that he was losing? Natalie. *No ...* Now that Nick was conscious again, LaCroix could sense that something really was wrong. He paced in agitation. The signal was so faint, he didn't know where to begin. He had called the station several times only to be told that no one had checked in yet. He could see the first indications in the sky that the sun was about to rise. He debated with himself over just what it was he needed to do. If he went out looking ... he had no idea where to begin a search, and then what would happen if Nicholas came here and he were gone? He sensed urgency. Something had to be done and quickly, but what? He grew angrier and more frustrated by the minute. Damn Nicholas anyway, why hadn't the boy been more responsible? He had known it would eventually come to this. Nick was becoming less and less of a vampire, and now LaCroix's connection with him had weakened. LaCroix swore that when whatever problem Nicholas had was resolved, he would deal with this much less leniently than he had in the past. If Nicholas somehow survived, he would regret that he did. That's what LaCroix got for indulging him. LaCroix looked out of the window once more, hesitated, and then spotted Vachon. Didn't he know enough to come in out of the sun either? Vachon seemed to try and shake off the discomfort and rising blisters the first rays of dawn had caused him and instantly he was standing before LaCroix. "You've got to do something. It's Knight." Suddenly Vachon felt himself up against the nearest wall, suspended from LaCroix's hand on his throat. "What's happened? Where is he?" LaCroix hissed menacingly. Vachon wasn't surprised that LaCroix already knew something was going on. He was Knight's Master, they would have that connection. It was also why he was the only one who could save him now. "Warehouse on 85th," he choked out. "He's been staked." LaCroix released Vachon. His eyes turned gold, then red. He howled in anger as his connection to Nick grew suddenly stronger and he sensed the pain and sorrow that his protege was feeling as his life continued to ebb. Blinded almost completely by his blood rage, LaCroix flew towards the door and threw it open, only to feel the pain of the first rays of the rising sun. He put his arm up to his eyes and growled, slamming the door shut. After a while his eyes returned to normal. He had to gain control, had to think clearly. He didn't have time to slink there in the shadows, couldn't possibly fly there in the full light of dawn. He needed help, but who? Nick lay in the shadows of debris and wondered when he had last felt such a Hunger. It was a strange feeling, craving blood with an intensity he could never remember, yet feeling no physical urge to get it, as his body began to shut down for lack of it. It began to occur to him that the warmth he had been feeling in his toes was beginning to spread up his feet. And it was getting too intense to be called just "warmth." In fact, it was downright hot. Uncomfortably hot. Burning, in fact, he realized. He turned his head as much as he could and saw it. Sunlight beginning to peek over the collapsed wall, shining on his feet as they poked out from underneath a piece of fallen wall. For a moment he wondered why his shoes weren't protecting him and realized how close to the True Death he was. It would be a race to see which destroyed him first, the stake, a complete loss of blood, or the sun. He thought back to the seventeen hundreds, to a vampire hunter who had caught him by surprise, chained him in the early morning sun. He remembered the searing pain, the smell of burning flesh before pain and fury had given him strength to break the chains and flee. He'd recovered fairly quickly then, still making a steady diet of human blood, but he'd never forgotten the agony of those moments when the sun had burned right through him, doing more than just burning his flesh, stealing his very existence. Even today, when he played with the sun in the loft, it was a flirting with that pain, that terror. The heat moved closer to his ankle, where his socks provided even less protection. He considered jostling the stake, letting it take him before the agony could truly begin, but he didn't have the strength. CONTEMPLATING MORTALITY A Forever Knight story by TJ Goldstein and Sorcha O'Faolin Part 3 of 6 Natalie Lambert stared out of the window in Nick's loft. The sun had been up for several minutes, where was Nick? She hadn't been too concerned at first when he didn't pick her up when her shift ended, he'd worked late before, both of them were used to putting in extra hours when the case called for it. She had become mildly concerned when Captain Reese had told her when she went looking for Nick at his office that both Nick and Tracy had missed the last two check-ins. Reese had sent two more officers to look into it, but they hadn't been gone long enough to check-in yet, so she had decided to wait for Nick at his place. She began to really worry when the sun began to rise and he had not returned home. She knew he always came back an hour before, just to be on the safe side. She felt a brief stabbing pain when the thought occurred to her that maybe he had decided to leave without saying good-bye again, but it passed quickly when she realized that that would not explain Tracy's absence. The fact that Tracy had been missing too also saved her the agony of entertaining the possibility that Jannette was back in town. But if Nick were hurt and couldn't get out of the sun... she pushed the remote and shut the shades. She didn't want to be reminded of the worst. She jumped as the phone rang. She ran to pick it up, relieved that Nick was calling to tell her it was all right, she could stop worrying. Please God, let it be Nick. She put the receiver to her ear, "Nick?" "Natalie." Her worst fears immediately became worse. "LaCroix? Is Nick with you?" She said in an accusing voice. On the other end of the line, LaCroix wondered if this had not been a mistake, but with the press of time, she was the only mortal he could think of who could help just now, as much as the prospect galled him. "No, Natalie, but he is in grave danger. I ... need you to come to the Raven and take me to him before it's too late." Natalie didn't bother to answer him. She hung up the phone and called the station. Tracy had come back without Nick. Her report stated that Nick had been missing since the explosion. She had to take the chance and help LaCroix. She would prefer to do this any other way, but if Nick needed more help than she could give him... She shook visibly as she pulled out of the garage and felt the warmth of the sun on her face. She didn't bother to check her speed, she simply put the red light on top of her car and drove to the Raven as fast as she dared. She pulled up to the door and absently flipped the County Coroner on Duty card in the back window. LaCroix looked as worried as she did as she walked up to face him. She could tell that he was surprised that she had come. Her lips were pursed, her features were hard as she stood next to him glaring defiantly. "Tell me where Nick is," she demanded. He was wearing a large hooded cape, which might have looked comical in this day and age if it had been worn by anyone but LaCroix. "I'll tell you on the way," he said, in a voice that seemed to tolerate no arguments. He took up another cape and headed for the door. "Wait, we'll need a few ah.. supplies before we go. If Nick is seriously injured," she hesitated, hating to say what she knew must be said. "He'll need human blood to strengthen him and help him heal more quickly." "Don't be ridiculous," he snarled. I have already thought of that." He held up a sack containing several bottles of crimson liquid. He took her by the arm and dragged her roughly to the door. "We're wasting time we don't have, woman." Natalie ran as he pulled her. She lost her footing and fell. She tried to stand on her own but LaCroix was too impatient. She winced as he yanked her back on her feet as if she were a rag doll. Her arm felt as if it had been pulled out of its socket. She knew it would be bruised for days. She refused to cry out in pain as she let him pull her without protestation -- not that he would have listened anyway. She knew he was as frantic about Nick's condition as she was. LaCroix paused at the door only long enough to shove Natalie out of it and cover his head and as much of his face as possible. "Doctor, the door, quickly," he commanded her, then rushed out as she did as she was told. She turned the flashing red light back on. LaCroix cocooned himself within the cloak. "Head toward 85th." Natalie floored the accelerator and held on for dear life as she struggled to finish putting on her seatbelt and drive at the same time. "All right, where is Nick?" "Very near the True Death." He clenched his jaw and was glad the cloak kept him from having to look at her. If it hadn't been for her interference, Nicholas would have been stronger, perhaps able to ... He felt his tenuous hold on his anger slipping and reigned it in. He couldn't kill her now. Not if he wanted to reach Nicholas before nightfall. The impact of his words did not fail to reach her. Nick had told her what the True Death meant. The thought of Nick in pain was unbearable, but the thought of losing him was unthinkable. Until now, she hadn't really accepted the fact that he could really be facing death. After all, he was immortal. She didn't want to show any weakness in front of LaCroix, but she couldn't stop herself from whispering, "Oh, Nick, please be all right." A mortal would never have heard her, especially through the thick cloak. But LaCroix was no mortal, and his hunter's senses were even more developed than most. "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you undertook to weaken him," he growled. Natalie glanced over at him and tried not to feel terrified. She could feel his animosity towards her and she knew he was having a difficult time keeping it in check. What would she do if he couldn't? The thought of him lunging for her throat while she was driving in so closely a confined space with him was not an easy one to deal with. She had to remain calm. "Look LaCroix, I know that you don't really like me and I can appreciate how difficult it must have been to ask me for help, but we have to put our feelings aside and think of Nick now, he needs both of us. For his sake, I suggest we try to at least be civil to each other. Agreed?" He paused, eyes burning, reflecting on her request. "Frankly, my Dr. Lambert, I am not at all certain that I am capable of maintaining civility in the face of this." She had to stop for heavy morning rush hour traffic. "Damn." She turned to him with a look in her eyes that was as cold as she imagined his heart to be. "Look, I am willing to do anything for Nick, even if it means tolerating your bad behavior. However do you really think it will help him if we are, you should pardon the expression, 'at each other's throats'?" The traffic was at a crawl. She wished that she had a siren. LaCroix kept his breath even. What was she doing? Didn't she understand that time was running out? Vachon had said Nicholas was barely sheltered from the sun. "If you do not start this car once more, Doctor, I can promise you that I be at your throat." "I know that," she said through her teeth. "Where do you suggest we go? I can't even turn around and traffic is bumper to bumper." LaCroix seethed silently. When this was over, he considered destroying them both and being done with it. Natalie looked around for some sort of break in the traffic, then she spotted something and she got an idea. "Stay here just a moment. I'll be right back." She started to get out of the car. With a gloved hand and vampire speed, he snatched her arm, his face reddening in the sun. "Get back in this car and do something." She struggled to free herself without much success. "Look, there's nothing I can do just sitting here waiting for these cars to clear out. If you want my help, you've got to trust me. O.K.?" He stared at here for a moment, but knew she was right. He released her and allowed the cloak to settle over his face before it began to smoke. Natalie dashed out of the door. She returned after about five minutes of what seemed to LaCroix to be an eternity later, looking very smug. She got behind the wheel and turned to look behind her. Within seconds, a squad car pulled up beside them. "Ready Doctor?" She nodded as the sirens blared and she weaved through the cars that were pulling over to let them pass. She shot LaCroix a glance of superiority, which he saw as he had looked to see what was happening. "And what do you intend to do with them once we arrive?" he asked, seeking to defuse her smugness. "They certainly cannot accompany us to Nicholas." "Nick's partner has already reported him as missing in the explosion. There must be rescue squads already there. We have to find Nick before they do. This is the fastest way to get there," she challenged him. "Unless we fly." LaCroix considered doing just that, but knew that it was out of the question. *Nicholas,* he thought, *when this is over I'll break you of this quest for mortality, if I have to bring you across all over again.* Nick tried to ignore his feet by concentrating on the appearance of his hand, which was conveniently located on the "floor" in front of his face. It looked white and pasty, even in the shadows, almost as though it would crumble at the slightest touch. Was this what mortals felt as they approached death? If he had been mortal, he thought, this wouldn't have happened. *Yes it would*, he realized, *but I'd already be dead.* None of this time for contemplation. None of this pain. The sun had found another chink in his armor of debris and was burning a hole in his thigh, he noticed distractedly. How long before they came? He could see the sky above him; his face was unprotected. Please, he thought, let the stake kill me first. For a moment he entertained the thought of being mortal. The realization that this would have killed him had started him on another thought. He'd been shot, stabbed, blown up, more than once on the job. He'd even met Natalie when he wound up on a slab in the morgue after an explosion much like this one. How could he keep doing this job as a mortal? But all the other cops were mortals. They dealt with this every day. He felt a newfound respect for them -- not as though he didn't respect them before. He felt less ... brave, somehow. It's not courage if you have nothing to lose. Now, staring at the True Death, he wondered: would he have had the courage to be mortal? To face death every time he stepped out on the job, out on the street? Maybe that was why he had so much trouble with backsliding. *But no*, he thought, *I was a Knight in life. I saw death every day, could have died at any moment.* But that death was supposed to lead to Eternal Life. So was it really death at all? The sun found a spot on his hip. CONTEMPLATING MORTALITY A Forever Knight story by TJ Goldstein and Sorcha O'Faolin Part 4 of 6 LaCroix jumped suddenly and began to curse. Luckily Natalie didn't know what he was saying. She didn't understand the language he was speaking. She did almost leap out of her skin however. His outburst had been quite loud and sounded more than violent. Right now, more than anything, she wanted the luxury of letting go. If only she could just cry, or scream, if only she were with Nick. She had to be in control now for him, hadn't he always been there for her? She could not let LaCroix see her like this. Fighting for control, she bit her lip, hard, tasted blood. She realized it and was startled, then panicked. LaCroix was pulled back from the telepathic connection by the sudden smell of blood, of panic. He looked out from under the hood and saw Natalie nervously blotting a spot of blood on her lip, trying to stare at him and drive at the same time. But he had other things on his mind. "You need not worry, Dr. Lambert. I am not as uncontrolled as my Nicholas. If I kill you, it will be with intent, not instinct. One does not need to be mortal to have control." Natalie smiled ironically. She could almost thank him. LaCroix had given her the presence of mind she needed. She chuckled softly. "You never give an inch, do you LaCroix?" He thought back to Valentine's Day. "I believe I've given you quite a bit more than an inch, Dr. Lambert." She glared at him. She could say something, but she wasn't sure if she would be able to keep calm. "What kind of a break have you given Nick?" she said coldly. "I have stayed out of his affairs more than you can imagine." "Only long enough to get his hopes up so that you could get your jollies be destroying them," she spat the last words out bitterly. He smiled. She had spirit, this one. He would have to do something about that. "Life is full of disappointments - - if one allows it to be. I am not the one who gets his hopes up, Dr. Lambert. I am not the one aiding him in an impossible quest that can only end in disappointment." "If you're really that sure that Nick will be disappointed LaCroix, why don't you just let it happen? Seems to me he'd be more likely to give up. Why don't you admit that what you're really afraid of, is that he might succeed?" He might have fired off a reply without thinking, letting his rage speak. Though she might not believe it, it was something that had occurred to him. But he was not about to discuss it with a mortal -- especially this one. He had long ago decided that fear was not his motivation. "No. is what I'm afraid of. That Nicholas will be left without the natural protection that comes with what he is. That he will be left vulnerable." She knew she shouldn't goad him, but right now, anger was her only defense. "You mean by something or someone other than yourself?" His voice was deep, more growl than speech. "Contrary to what you may feel, Dr. Lambert, I am not what Nicholas has to worry about. You would do well to remember that Nicholas' current condition is due in part to your ministrations, because you can believe that I have not forgotten. Nor will I." His words sent shivers through her entire being. She knew he could feel her heart pounding. "Have you ever considered acting LaCroix? You'd be great in melodramas," she said defiantly. "I prefer Shakespeare's tragedies. Plenty of characters to kill, don't you agree?" She rolled her eyes, then focused them back on the road. "We're here, LaCroix." Her heart began pounding again at the thought of what they might find. "Can you still sense him?" she asked in a hopeful tone. "Park out of sight." He could sense Nicholas, but just barely. "Answer me, LaCroix, please. Do you sense anything?" His answer was quiet, considering his previous venom. "Barely. We must hurry." Natalie closed her eyes, said a silent prayer of thanks, and jumped out of the car. LaCroix also jumped out of the car and after a quick look around, gathered up the extra cloak and the blood and began to take off, realizing that Natalie had grabbed his arm. He set her down. "I don't have time for this foolishness. Let go." He hissed at her, but still she held on. "He needs me too, LaCroix." "He needs blood. Let go." He resigned to simply throw her off if she disobeyed, but her adrenaline was apparently pumping because the cursory flick that should have sent her sprawling served only to knock her off balance. He growled. "Hold this." He handed her the blood and when she took it, he laid an arm around her waist and they took off into the air, descending a moment later through a hole in what might have been the roof to land amidst layers of debris. She could hear the rescue squads working on the lower floors and for a brief moment allowed herself to think that maybe that was all they would need, maybe Nick is just trapped and not really hurt. But she didn't need LaCroix to tell her where Nick was. Her stomach flip-flopped as she smelled the burning flesh and saw tiny wisps of smoke rising from a pile of debris. She started to run to him but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Wait here." "No!" He turned to look at her face, hidden from the sun as he now was. "For your own safety, you will wait here. I cannot guarantee what we will find." "It doesn't matter, I'm going with you." He shook his head. How did Nicholas put up with her? "Then at least stay behind me." "Fine." LaCroix knew there was a chance they were too late. The presence he felt from Nicholas was barely perceptible. He knelt beside his head. Glowing red eyes stared sightlessly at him from a deep grey face. He tried not to look at the beam that had impaled his child. If they did save him, he didn't know what they were going to do about that. "Cloak," he said simply and reached for it. Natalie brushed past him. She leaned over and gently covered him. She stroked his cheek and whispered softly in his ear. "It's OK, Nick, I'm here." LaCroix couldn't decide if she was brave or impossibly foolish. He decided the latter. "Doctor, for your own safety I insist you stand well back now." Natalie thought briefly about arguing with him about her safety, but realized that it was LaCroix's help that Nick needed now. She'd argue later. She stepped back as he requested. LaCroix watched her and when he was satisfied he made a small slice in his wrist and pressed it to Nicholas' lips. As long as the instinct was still there, there was a chance. Slowly he felt Nicholas begin to drink from him, feebly at first, and gradually more insistently. "Drink, Nicholas," he said quietly, wondering if perhaps it was truly too late. Nicholas seemed to gain strength from the sustenance until finally, when LaCroix was forced to pull away, he began to thrash wildly, trying to get more blood, inhuman growls issuing from him. LaCroix turned to Natalie, his own eyes glowing. "Do you see? is what he is." Her eyes were as fiery as his own. She uncorked the bottle she held in her hand. "No, LaCroix, this is what made him." Hunger. Unbearable Hunger that blotted out all else. It was all Nick could perceive. So hungry. Can't get blood. He was dimly aware of the taste of blood on his lips. He'd had food, where had it gone, why couldn't he get to it? His eyes made out a blurred shape -- was it two? -- and he felt something cold and hard in his mouth, tasted blood and swallowed as fast as he could get himself to swallow. He felt himself gaining strength and knew he was thrashing around trying to get more. He knew he couldn't go anywhere, and that every time he tried his chest exploded all over again. But he couldn't stop. His body was working without him. Sunlight suddenly touched his cheek and he heard himself screeching. Something moved in front of his face and he lunged at it to feed, his jaws snapping shut on nothing. He screeched again in frustration. Natalie knelt down next to him and covered his face with the cloak. She wasn't afraid of him, no matter how fierce he seemed. Suddenly she was knocked off balance and realized that LaCroix had pulled her away an instant before Nick could tear her wrist open. "You don't care much for your life," she heard him say, but it was without conviction. She felt herself shaking. "He doesn't know it's us, does he." "No," LaCroix said pensively. "We only have one more bottle. If we can't calm him down before he drinks it he'll tear himself to shreds." Natalie watched Nick for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Unless you've got any ideas, give it to me." "If you can calm him down, I'll give it to you." *With any luck, Nicholas will just kill her*, he thought. At the very least, it would mean more blood for him. At best, she would be gone and Nick couldn't blame him for it. Either way, he wouldn't let her waste the bottle. Nicholas couldn't survive this frenzy much longer. Nick saw something coming toward him and watched it with hunter's eyes, judging when he could lunge for it without it being able to get away. Natalie approached Nick cautiously. She knew her only chance was to be able to get through to him. "Nick?" she said softly. "It's me, Natalie. I want to help you. I know you won't hurt me. It's going to be all right, I promise." She gingerly put her hand on Nick's head and began to stroke his hair, avoiding the blood. She tried not to let him smell her fear. Remember, she told herself, this is Nick, not some monster. She called out to him again, trying to call him back to her somehow. "Nick?" He heard something. What was it? Nick. Was that him? It rang true somehow, as did the voice. But his quarry left his field of vision and he looked for something else to feed on. He felt something on his head and tried to shake it off, but it kept returning, rhythmically stroking his hair. He didn't understand, and he tried to shake it off again, to no avail. He slowed his frenzied struggling, suddenly curious. "That's it, Nick." She continued stroking his head, speaking in dulcet tones. "You've been hurt. You've lost a lot of blood, but I'm here now. I promise it will be all right soon." He could hear something. Something that made him want to hear more. Slowly it began to sink in that he knew her, that he wanted to hear more from her, anything from her. He settled down even more to listen, only moaning and moving slightly. "That's right," she kept soothing him, "I'm going to give you some more blood now." She held out her hand to LaCroix. "Give me the bottle, please." She had expected shock, amazement, even amusement from LaCroix, but got only grudging respect instead. "Take the cork out first," she ordered. Nick could hear her, was beginning to understand her. More blood. More blood was a good thing. He wanted that. But he wanted her to keep talking, to keep stroking his head. She took the bottle from LaCroix and turned back to Nick. She shifted so that she could cradle his head in her arms and stroked his cheek as she tipped the bottle to his lips. "That's it, Nick, drink it all up like a good boy." Nick closed his eyes and concentrated on her hand as it soothed his cheek. Natalie. This was his Natalie. He felt the blood slide down his throat and quench the fire the Hunger had stoked. He wanted to say something to her, but couldn't find the strength and he leaned his head back against her instead. A small moan escaped him as she lowered the now-empty bottle from his lips. CONTEMPLATING MORTALITY A Forever Knight story by TJ Goldstein and Sorcha O'Faolin Part 5 of 6 This woman has much too much control, LaCroix thought as he watched the unfolding scene. He would have to do something about it -- later, when there was time. He produced a hacksaw from the otherwise empty sack and approached Nick. "Can you hear me, Nicholas?" Nick heard the voice, recognized it. He nodded just slightly. "Very good, Nicholas. You have been badly injured, and Dr. Lambert and I are going to help you. But I need to cut this and it's going to hurt. I need you to hold still and let the Doctor hold you. Do you understand?" He nodded again, and his head sank deeper into Nat's arms. She continued to cradle his head and brushed her cheek against his. "It'll all be over soon Nick, and then we can take you home." She slipped her hand into his. In his weakened condition, she was pretty sure she'd still have a hand in the end. LaCroix looked at the two of them. It was pathetic, really, his leaning on this mortal for support. This creature who would be gone in an eyeblink. But at the same time, though he would never admit it, part of him was glad she was there, glad there was someone to hold him, to comfort him. He knelt down next to Nick and began to saw the beam as close as he could to Nicholas' back. Nick felt the beam shift as LaCroix began to work and it sent another shot of agony through him. His body tensed and jumped and he became aware of Nat's hand on his back, trying to hold him still. "Please, Nick," he heard her say as she stroked his cheek, "I know it hurts, but you have to stay still. It's not safe for you to move. The stake ..." she hesitated, wincing at the word, "the is too close to your heart." Nick tried to comply, but his body was beyond his control now. Spasms of pain shot through him, causing convulsions of movement. Finally it stopped, and he was dimly aware of the sound of the ceiling collapsing above him as LaCroix tore the beam out of it. Natalie knew what a dangerous position Nick was in at this point. Somehow they would have to get the rest of that wood out of him without killing him. She wasn't sure what LaCroix had in mind. She tried to keep a cool, medical outlook and assessed the situation. She had no idea how to proceed. She turned to LaCroix with an expression of terror and uncertainty. He paid no attention to her, instead getting down on his knees to look at the other side of the beam. He cursed silently. It was embedded too deeply in the floor. There would be no way to turn Nicholas over and pull it out. He sat for a moment and looked at his child's face, crimson streaks running down it. *Nicholas*, he thought, *forgive me.* "Dr. Lambert, we need to lift Nicholas off of this," he said, indicating the beam. "I will do the lifting. I need you to keep him as still as possible." Natalie nodded and gently braced herself closely to Nick. She knew if he couldn't control the pain, she would be totally vulnerable to any other reaction he would have. Her eyes met his straight on. She had to be brave, for his sake. "Just keep looking at me, Nick, and try to think of something else." She didn't dare say what she really felt. Not in front of LaCroix. But she knew Nick would understand. As gently as possible LaCroix slid his arms under Nicholas on either side of the wood and looked at the pair of them. Without warning he hefted, lifting Nicholas free of the wood with one swift pull, closing his eyes to the bestial scream that accompanied it. Now was when they needed another bottle of blood! Natalie was horrified as she looked at the gaping opening in Nick's suddenly exposed chest. She realized he would need surgery that was beyond her limitations. Something had to be done to prevent him from bleeding to death, and quickly. She turned to LaCroix. "Hand me my medical bag. Hurry." LaCroix laid Nicholas down in the shade and handed her the bag. "We must leave. Now." Natalie nodded, opening the bag and grabbing as much gauze as she could find. "As soon as I can stop the blood flow. He can't afford to lose any more now." She began packing the wound as quickly and as gently as she could, then wrapped the gauze around his chest as tightly as possible. When she had finished she got up and went to LaCroix. As quietly as possible, she whispered to him, "He needs surgery. More than I can do for him." Foolish child, LaCroix thought. "He will heal without surgery, Doctor. We need only to get him to the Raven." He looked around and began to wrap Nicholas in the cloak. "I will need to put him in your car and come back for you." He held out a hand for the keys. Natalie automatically fished the keys out of her pocket, stretched her hand out to give them to him, and then pulled it back. She was reasonably sure he couldn't drive in the daylight, but she wasn't taking any chances. She wouldn't trust LaCroix with HIS grandmother. She fumbled with the keychain, removing the ignition key, leaving only the door key. With a satisfied expression she handed it to LaCroix. LaCroix shook his head at the thought that he might drive back to the Raven, in the sunlight, with Nicholas bouncing all over the back of the car. Wordlessly he made certain Nicholas was completely covered by the cloak and lifted him in his arms with more gentleness than Natalie would have expected. Then he was gone. A moment later LaCroix landed next to Natalie's car and got the door open. Awkwardly he got the back door open, ignoring the burns as they began to rise on his face, and lay Nicholas down on the seat. He took a moment to catch his breath as he settled Nicholas in. Blood was beginning to seep into the cloak, and his eyes were closed, but he looked peaceful, and LaCroix forced himself to close the door and return for Natalie. At that moment he realized that she was right. He have tried to drive back to the Raven. A moment later he was beside Natalie, scooping her up before she could protest and dropping back down to the car. Natalie stiffened at his touch. He had caught her off guard and it was really unnerving for her to be held by him. She hoped that he was concentrating on Nick and that he wouldn't notice her discomfort. He didn't. It had only been a few moments, but already he felt that he had left Nicholas alone for too long. He set her down and turned her to face him, staring into her eyes with more ferocity than he had felt in years, decades perhaps. "Drive. Don't stop for anything." He climbed into the back seat of the car. She didn't need to be told twice, or even once for that matter. Natalie knew that they could still lose Nick and she would have driven as fast as she could even if LaCroix had been against it. She turned the red light on and floored the car. "How is he? Are the bandages keeping him from bleeding?" LaCroix was silent for a moment, staring at Nicholas. They weren't holding. For eight hundred years he had tried to raise him right, free him from the guilt and sorrow that tormented him. If only ... but there were no "if only's" now. Now it was simply survival or the True Death. Deliberately he sliced his wrist again and held it to his child's mouth. He shouldn't, he knew, having already given Nicholas all he could spare, but how could he not? "Nicholas," he whispered without realizing it, "don't leave me this way." Natalie heard him and shivered. She had been thinking the same thing. She had misjudged LaCroix. No matter what he was, he really did care about Nick. She brushed her tears away so she could see where she was driving. "You love him too." LaCroix had to stop for a moment to realize what she had said. "Perhaps one day," he said tiredly, quietly, "you will realize that Nicholas is more than just my creation. He is my child. Nothing more, nothing less. He is my responsibility, and what I do, I do for him." "Please LaCroix, let's not get into this again. Can't you just accept him as he is? He'd love you even more for it. You know, no matter what you may think or feel about me, Nick is his creation. Nothing either of us can do will ever change him if he doesn't want it. If you really loved him, you'd put his happiness before yours." He sighed, for perhaps the first time ever in her presence. "I shan't argue mortality with you." Once more he took his wrist from Nicholas, who had fed but still not awakened. "I have come to the conclusion that it does no good whatsoever. How far are we from the Raven?" "About two blocks, and at this speed, maybe three minutes tops." She stole a quick glimpse at Nick, he was becoming much too pale again. She turned her eyes back on the road and pressed down on the gas pedal as much as she dared. Three minutes, LaCroix thought. He had given Nicholas eight centuries and it all came down to three minutes. Not even a heartbeat's time. So much to say, so little left to say. Nick was warm. He could feel it. It puzzled him, nibbling on the edge of his consciousness. Something was going on. He was dimly aware of that. But it was warm, and dark, and he was comfortable. It was like waking from a deep sleep. He didn't want to move, to disturb the moment. Instead he wanted to luxuriate in it. He felt as though there was a void just beyond, and soon that was where he would be. So in the meantime here he wanted to stay. As he had done so many times before, he wished that Nat was here with him, to be part of this embrace of comfortable warmth. If only she could be part of his life, part of his waking, sleeping, complete existence and not be shut out by the walls he had built. It was for her. He had to protect her, even if it meant he could never wake up with her arm draped lazily across him, her body snuggled up against his, together even in the bond of dreams. Soon he would have to get out of bed, get up for work, put thoughts of Natalie and how he longed for her aside for the cold realities of the night. But for now ... Then there was that void again. What was that all about? He chuckled to himself. Being philosophical, Nick? Is that what life's like without her? Must be. It was too bad LaCroix didn't understand about her. Or maybe it was too bad that he did. He would have liked to have talked to his mentor about her, as a son talks to his father. LaCroix understood him in a way no one else could, even Nat. She loved him for what she saw in him. LaCroix knew him for what he was. LaCroix would know what a victory it was every time he got down one of those disgusting protein shakes. He would know how much effort it took not to pick up the blood. But they could never talk about it because of LaCroix's walls, the walls he had erected with his opposition to Nick's quest for mortality, with his desire for retribution for Fleur. Better get up, shower, get to work before Schanke does too much sucking up to the Captain. Wait. Schanke wouldn't be there because ... no, of course he would. Wouldn't he? Things were starting to get confusing. Better get up, have some breakfast. Nothing. Someone was talking outside the loft. Making a lot of noise. He thought he even felt his bed shaking from the noise. If he could get up, boy, he'd give them a talking to. But not right now. CONTEMPLATING MORTALITY A Forever Knight story by TJ Goldstein and Sorcha O'Faolin Part 6 of 6 Natalie pulled the car up to the Raven's door. She turned to face LaCroix. "I'm going in with you," she said flatly not wishing to leave any room for argument. LaCroix lifted Nicholas and began to carry him out of the car. "I can take no responsibility for your safety. Particularly if Nicholas doesn't survive." He hurried across the sidewalk, relishing the cool comfort of the Raven's darkness. Natalie's face was a portrait of grim determination. "I'll take my chances," she answered him coldly, and followed him inside. Now that was too much, Nick thought. It was one thing to make noise, but now it was beginning to hurt. A lot. That was it. He was getting up, going downstairs, and giving them a piece of his mind. He started to get up and realized that he was entangled in the blankets. He tugged and pulled but the more he struggled, the more he seemed to be enmeshed. He smelled blood. Human blood, and he felt his fangs drop. He was hungry after a long day of sleep. Had to get downstairs and feed. Why were the blankets giving him such a hard time? LaCroix felt Nicholas starting to struggle even as he lifted him out of the car. The cloak covered him completely, but even in the few short feet from the car to the Raven's entrance, LaCroix could feel the sun burning through it. Nicholas was practically gone. He got him inside as quickly as possible and laid him on the pallet that Vachon and Miklos had thought to prepare in the Raven's main room, trying to hold him down as Miklos handed him a bottle. "Nicholas, stop it!" Natalie, still being ignored, stood beside LaCroix and assessed the situation. "He seems to be having some sort of seizure," she reached into her medical bag and pulled out a set of tongue depressors. After she had stacked several of them together, she slipped them into his mouth to prevent him from swallowing his tongue. She waited until he bit down firmly on them. She turned to LaCroix. "He needs more blood, fast, he's lost too much, he's having difficulty breathing." She jumped as she felt a sharp pain in her fingertip. She looked down in surprise at her hand. Nick had bitten her! Reflexively, she pulled back her hand. Nick felt rage burning inside him and looked to see that his bedroom had somehow become the inside of the Raven. How dare it?! He looked down and saw the hole in his chest. That must be the burning pain. He saw, sensed beings before him. Blood. No longer in his bedroom, he stood, tasted blood. His hand reached out and grabbed something. Another hand. Bleeding. Sweet, pure blood, full of fear. He felt the Hunger controlling him, his eyes closing as his head lolled back slightly, fangs ready for the strike, arms holding his prey firm. Now, now he would make it stop. LaCroix saw what was happening in the moment before he could react. Caught in the bloodlust before, Nicholas had been pinned, the danger to others limited. Now he was free, the final bursts of vampiric strength allowing him to encase Natalie in an unbreakable hold, ready to -- Natalie saw Nick's reaction and froze in terror for just an instant. She snapped out of it just as Nick was about to strike. She still had one hand free, with that she slapped him as hard as she could. "Nick," she said sharply. "Stop it now, you could hurt me. You are not an animal." It was a seemingly futile gesture, but Natalie had simply not thought it through, she had only been reacting to her anger. Nick heard her. He stopped for a moment, reacting to new information, a new stimulus. He sniffed the air, his face stinging, smelled, tasted the familiar aroma of ... Natalie. And fear. Natalie afraid. Rage burned in him anew. If anyone hurt her ... Her words began to sink in. Not an animal. No, of course not. He took a good look and realized he was holding her, ready to feed on her. He looked in her eyes, saw the fear he could feel, palpable in the air as it mingled with her dwindling anger. He slowly released her, pain flooding out the rage. He began to sink to the floor as he let go, trying to smile at her. "I really need blood," he heard himself say, and wondered if anyone else heard it. LaCroix heard it and was there instantly, tearing the cork from the bottle and giving it to Natalie as he downed a second bottle himself, then a third and a fourth, slowly shaking his head in amazement. "I'm amazed that he didn't rip your throat out," he muttered between bottles. "Quite a shame really." Nick felt himself sitting on the floor, leaning against the bar and against Natalie, who was holding the bottle up to his lips. It slipped down his throat easily, nibbled at the Hunger. He felt as though his life was slowly dripping from his chest. Then the bottle was gone, and he tasted LaCroix's blood, felt himself hold LaCroix's wrist still as he drank from it. His Master's blood filled him, and he felt the pain begin to ebb. Natalie watched Nick feed ignoring LaCroix. She couldn't believe that this was what Nick truly was. Nick was beginning to look better, and his face began to look more relaxed. She wanted to examine his chest, but she was afraid that LaCroix wouldn't let her close. She knew that this must be a very private, personal moment between them. She watched the two of them and pondered their relationship. She knew a little about how Nick felt about LaCroix, but she had never understood LaCroix's motives entirely. To her it seemed as if nothing short of complete control of Nick's every thought, every move, would satisfy his "creator." Why couldn't LaCroix understand, why couldn't his so-called "love" for Nick be unconditional? It was ironic really, all either of them wanted was what was best for Nick, yet they were on directly opposite paths, with Nick caught somewhere in the middle. She continued to watch, waiting for Nick to be aware enough to acknowledge her presence. There was a bond between creator and child, and it flowed into Nick with the blood, making him realize that he truly did have life. Certainly not the life of a mortal, but not the cold void of nothingness he always thought he felt. LaCroix's blood filled him with ... existence, with eternity. Nick began to feel more stable and he slowly lowered LaCroix's arm, caught his breath as he licked the last droplets from his lips. His chest still hurt, certainly. But not like before, not nearly like before. He leaned his head back and smiled. "Thanks," he said, squeezing LaCroix's arm and laying his head on Natalie's shoulder, "both of you." Natalie moved closer to Nick and smiled deeply at him, this was her Nick. "Are you all right? Can I see your wounds?" He tried to smile back at her, leaning his head back and letting his arm fall to his side so she could work. "I'm all yours," he said. She flashed him a smile that seemed to say, 'and don't you forget it'. She began to probe his chest as gently as she could. She could see that some healing had begun around the edges of the wound, but she would have to remove the gauze. There were pieces of wood chips and dirt embedded in the skin. A saline flush would be needed to clean the wound. She turned to LaCroix. "Is there a drugstore nearby that delivers? We're going to have to clean this wound out thoroughly to insure that it'll heal properly." LaCroix watched her she as lay him down and probed his wound. He was never going to get rid of her. Not while she lived. She had invaded Nicholas's consciousness. The question was, how could he get rid of her without driving Nicholas even further away? "Miklos. Find out what Dr. Lambert needs and see to it." He turned to her. "I trust I do not have to warn you to be careful." She gave Miklos a list and turned her attentions back to Nick. The sooner she could get him out of here and away from LaCroix, the better. She wouldn't feel really safe until they were back in Nick's loft. Drinking all that human blood was going to set them farther back in their fight to help Nick become human, LaCroix's presence would only make matters worse. Besides, she knew how he felt about her, and the sooner Nick became well enough to satisfy his master, the sooner he would begin to resent her help. She didn't want to be at the Raven when that happened. How could she keep LaCroix away from Nick without endangering both of them? She vowed to herself that she wouldn't rest until she had helped Nick to be free of him. If only Nick didn't care so much for LaCroix. LaCroix got to his feet and took a long look at Nicholas as Natalie settled him back on the pallet. A vampire retains whatever humanity he needs to function, and no more. But LaCroix knew that when he had brought Nicholas across he had destroyed something fundamental in him, something he had been looking for ever since, something that LaCroix could never understand. Perhaps that was what Natalie understood about him, what she gave him that LaCroix himself could not. He watched as she arranged a pillow under his head, saw him smile, trusting her completely. For his part, Nick looked at both of them, knowing each would be much happier if the other were nowhere to be found. But how could he make them understand that he needed both of them? He closed his eyes and relaxed. LaCroix would keep him safe, and Nat would make him well. Life was good.