A Darker Night 1/2
by Sharon S. Scott
c.  July 14, 1996

Contains spoilers--Last Knight
This started out to be  silly, but got serious right away.
:-)
*
*
"Damn you, Nicholas!" Lacroix raised the walking stick
and prepared to stab his son in the back.

Nick, tears clouding his last sight of Natalie, crouched
over her body, preparing himself for the final, fatal
blow.

Nat opened her eyes, blinked once and then kicked Nick
just as hard as she could. The force of the blow pushed
him backward onto the end of the walking stick.  With a
scream, he fell sideways, writhing in pain, the stick
protruding from his chest just below his ribs.

"Damn you, Natalie!" Lacroix bellowed.

Nat kicked Nick's twitching feet off her and stood,
fluffing up her hair and dusting off her behind. "With
$478 million in the bank, you'd think he could afford to
hire someone to vacuum his floor. So what's your
problem?"

"My wrist is broken, you silly bitch!"

"Too bad. Want me to kiss it and make it all better? Not
likely. And don't call me a bitch. Entirely too many
people have been calling me that lately."

"I'll call you whatever I like. I'm old and powerful. And
you're not."

"Old? No contest. Powerful? I'm not too sure about that
anymore." Nat bent down to take  a look at Nick, who
was moaning and  thrashing, both hands on the end of
the stick. "You were going to do exactly what he
wanted, weren't you? Kill him. Just because he wanted
you to. The "son" you wouldn't free for nearly 800
years. And all he had to do was tell you that you were
his best friend, and you gave in."

"I grew tired of his continual unhappiness and his
everlasting complaining and his wanting to be something
he was not."

"If you had let him lead his own life, he might have been
a lot happier. You always have to have everything your
way, don't you?"

"I'm old and powerful--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Old and powerful, my ass. And you
can wipe that look off your face--I'm not afraid of
you."

"You should be."

"That's one of his lines. "

"It was mine before it was his. He had a bad habit of
stealing my best lines," Lacroix pouted.

"That's it, isn't it? You're jealous of him!" She fairly
crowed at the discovery.

"Of course not. Jealous? Of *him*?"

"But you are, aren't you? He has the good lines, he gets
to be moody and mysterious, he gets the cool car, he
has women falling all over him, and he has a real job
and a real life. What you have is ... well, you're a DJ
with an audience of one, you own a sleazy bar, and you
have a son and a daughter who hate you and have tried
to get away from you for centuries. Oh, and you
*almost* got his sister."

"I will not listen to this."

"Yes, you will. I told you, I'm not afraid of you." She
started toward the kitchen.

Lacroix stopped her. "It's quite curious that you aren't.
Tell me why."

"I think not."

"Tell me."

"Won't."

"Will."

"Won't."

He looked deeply into her eyes, willing her to explain.
"You *will* tell me."

"Don't try that crap on me. I can't be hypnotized."

"Yes, so Nicholas told me. I should have remembered."
He backed off, rubbing his wrist, and watched her go to
the refrigerator and begin to search its contents. "Why
aren't you dead? He drained you. Twice."

She stopped and gave him a look she normally reserved
for Nick at his most medieval. "Have you ever known
him to do it right? Even once?"

"There was Serena."

"Yes. Serena. Well, we all know how that turned out. I
wouldn't call her a success."

"I'm forced to agree. His success rate is truly
atrocious."

"And who's to blame for that? Did you ever show him
how it was supposed to be done? Even once?"

"Actually, no."

"I rest my case."

Lacroix turned and took a look at Nick, who was
beginning to go gray around the edges. "And him? What
are we to do about him?"

"We take the stake out. Then you go away and never
talk to him or see him again." She turned back to the
refrigerator.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find that bottle of human blood I know he
has stashed away in here somewhere. He's going to
need it real soon now."

"You expect me to agree to this?" Lacroix asked.

"I don't think you have a choice. You forfeited the
power you had over him, by being willing to kill him. At
his request. Once you did that, you lost him. Forever.
He's mine now."

Lacroix arched an eyebrow and asked, "And what will
you do with him?"

"Ah, here it is." Nat raised the bottle in triumph,
slamming the fridge door closed. "What I intend to do
with him is none of your business. You're no longer
involved."

"He is my son."

"He will be my lover," she countered.

"And how do you plan to accomplish this miracle?"

"I love him."

"As do I, in my way. As does Janette, in her way.  She
may have accomplished the impossible, but he is not
Janette.  And neither are you. True love does not
conquer all, however much you might wish it so."

"Let's just say I believe in hard work, patience, love,
and in miracles. And he is one, you know--a miracle.
His light still shines through the darkness."

"You are a romantic."

"You make it sound like a disease. But I'm right about
him. I am. He *will* be mortal some day. We can make
it happen. However many setbacks, however much pain,
it will happen." She walked toward Lacroix and handed
him the wine bottle. "Right now, we've got to get that
piece of wood out of his chest. Would you open that and
help me?"

Lacroix looked at the woman, then at the bottle, and
then at his Nicholas. "Yes."

***********
To be continued.

scottie
sss44@aol.com or scotts@baylor.edu

A Darker Night pt. 2/2
by Sharon S. Scott
c. July 14, 1996

Contains spoilers--Last Knight

Nick was still and quiet, his eyes closed, his hands
fallen away from the gnarled stalk that blossomed in his
chest. Nat traced the line of his mouth with her fingers,
and whispered to him, "You're coming back to me. I
won't let you die. Not this way." She kissed his cheek,
smoothed a strand of hair that had fallen across his
forehead, and prepared herself. "Is the bottle open?
Good. Help me sit him up, then go around behind him and
pull that thing out. I'd do it myself, but I'm not strong
enough right now. This is my blood running all over the
floor."

Lacroix did as he was told, with reluctance. "He's going
to need blood to heal, and you'll be the closest source."

"I'm not a fool, Lacroix. I did this to him; I'll take the
risk." She held Nick's upper body against hers, cradling
his head and shoulders as best she could in such an
awkward position.  "I don't want you to be the first
thing he sees when he opens his eyes."

Lacroix stiffened. "That wasn't nice."

"I'm not in a nice mood tonight. It's been a trying day
and an even more difficult night, wouldn't you say? Are
you going to help me or not?"

Lacroix grasped the knobbed end of the walking stick
with both hands, feeling Nick's body sway with the
movement. "As you wish. But have you thought about
what happens afterwards, assuming you're still alive?"

"He heals. You go away."

"Away. For how long?"

"Until he calls you to meet your first grandchild."

"That long?" Lacroix's smile was icy.

"Or until hell freezes over, whichever comes first."

"I fear you've learned more than you should have from
me, Dr. Lambert."

"You were ready to help him die. You may consider that
an act of ultimate kindness. I don't. I want him to live. If
*he* doesn't want to, after this, he'll have to walk out
into the sun himself, without any help from you or from
me. We don't do it for him. He does it himself. Agreed?"

"Agreed." He tightened his grip on the stick and placed a
foot against Nick's back. "Ready when you are."

"PULL!"

Nick's agonized scream as the wood moved through his
body almost deafened her. He opened his eyes, once,
then sank back onto the floor, motionless. Lacroix flung
the bloody stick aside and brought his wrist to his
mouth.

"NO! DON'T!" Nat reached for the bottle.

"He needs blood," Lacroix snarled. "Look at him!" Nick's
skin was waxen, the color of dirty snow, and the hole
in his chest was open and flowing. "One bottle of human
blood isn't going to save him--he needs *my* blood.
Think. And fast!"

"Then do it! Now!"

Lacroix ripped open his wrist and held the wound to
Nick's mouth. "Drink, Nicholas! DRINK!"

"What's wrong?" She was beginning to panic. "Why
won't he take it?"

"He thinks he killed you--that you're dead."

She grabbed his head with both hands and raised it from
the floor. "Nick! NICK! It's me, Nat--I'm alive!  Listen to
me! Drink! Damn you, drink!"

His eyes opened slowly and focused on her face.

"I'm not dead, Nick. You didn't kill me. Drink!"

He drank. As much as Lacroix would give him.

When his chest stopped bleeding and his skin began to
return to its usual pallor, they moved him to the sofa.

Lacroix watched as Nat began bandaging the wound.
"He'll need more--much more--to heal properly."

"I'm a doctor. I've got sources."

"I'm sure you do. But how will it make you feel to steal
blood for him?"

She put away the bandages and stood looking down at
Nick. "Lousy. But I've done it before. I can do it again."

"I could make things easier for you."

"I don't want any more of your help, Lacroix. We had an
agreement. Will you honor it?"

Lacroix moved to stand beside her. "Do you doubt it?"

Nat considered. "No. I don't."

"Then I'll see you when you bear my grandchild, or
when hell freezes over." He smiled, said "Good luck,
Doctor," and reached out to touch Nick's hand. "Au
revoir, Nicholas." And then he flew up and out of the
loft.

Nat watched him go, then knelt by the sofa, stroking
Nick's face, talking softly to him. "You're going to get
well. I'm here till you do." Touching his cheek, then his
lips, with her fingertips, she said, "You will be mortal
again someday--I'm going to see to it. We're going to
have years together in the sun. And we're going to
make love--in bed, on the stairs, on this sofa, in front
of the fireplace. It *will* happen. Just wait and see. I
love you, Nicholas Knight."

And when she kissed him--softly, gently--he whispered
the words she'd been waiting to hear for so many
years.

The end.
**********
Scottie
sss44@aol.com or scotts@baylor.edu