From: "Kylie Coleman-Tucker" To: Subject: stories for update. Date: Tue, 18 Jan 2000 08:14:39 +1300 For those of you still with me, this is No.9 in the Nicky Series. It follows after "Help Me Find A Four- leaf Clover," posted to JADFE and my website only, or if you don't do the adult lists, "Death or Victory." Forgive me, but you may like to have a box of tissues handy for this one, and if you listen to Celine Dion, City of Angels, or Shania Twain's "Still the One" while you read, you may want two. Warning - As is becoming frequent these days, the first part is rated Adult and will be posted accordingly. Please let me know what you think about this one as I've delved into emotional territory which I have never put on paper before. All flames, and damn it to hell, I want real chocolate!, and possibly Uncle's addy, to knightraven@clear.net.nz All usual copyright disclaimers apply. Her Scent Upon The Pillow By Knightraven Copyright 1999 Part 1 - Adult - He rolled gently onto his side and reached out a hand to draw her warmth to rest within his empty arms... He breathed in her wonderfully sweet, womanly scent which was solely hers to give as she moved seductively against him as she slowly woke. He purred, "Good evening, my dear." "Mmm. What time is it?" Jordan rolled over in his arms and wrapped herself around his cool body, savoring his soft touch. "The sun has almost set," he told her as he began to softly place tiny kisses upon her temple. He quickly moved on to her earlobe and finally, he led a trail down her sensuously tender and succulent neck, licking and gently nibbling his way along her pulsing jugular where he breathed in the intoxicating scent of her blood. "Good. We have time to relax a bit before we have to get up," she whispered. "Hmmm. And what do you suppose we do to relax?" he asked innocently as he nibbled upon her ear once more. "Ohhh, I believe I can think of something," Jordan breathed, then sighed as he took her naked breast into his hand and kneaded it gently, plucking her nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger. Jordan gasped and she leaned back into the sheets to bask in his expert attentions. Moving her hands up and along his firm chest, molding his muscles and pinching at his own nipples, she smiled as the action elicited a soft gasp from his lips. Oh, those lips. Jordan reached up and drew them down to her own. Tenderly, she kissed and nibbled. He opened his mouth, inviting her in. She explored every inch of his mouth, even though she knew it oh so well already. She would never grow tired of touching him, tasting him. She drew his tongue into her mouth and they dueled for supremacy. Lacroix tasted all of her, drawing her elixir into his body as though it were her taste and blood alone which kept him alive. Her warm hands roamed languidly over his body, pinching and stroking him beyond all thought but those of her. He gazed down into her eyes and smiled a loving smile, one he reserved for her eyes only. A smile few people in all his two thousand years had ever seen, and now it was for her. Only for her. He kissed her again, slowly, sensually, as he gave her his heart, a piece of him which had been cold and slow for centuries. Only now it had awakened, and for the first time in eight hundred years, it beat with a warmth which he had thought dead and gone forever. He released her swollen lips and slid down her body, dragging the length of his own along her burning skin. He took her breast into his mouth. He suckled and nibbled on each in turn until she moaned his name. He knew what she wanted, and he also knew he would give her whatever she desired--he could deny her nothing. However, right now, he was going to take his time in giving it to her, Jordan arched her back as he tongued her navel, then moved excruciatingly, slowly, lower. "Oh god, yes!" she hissed as he spread her lips and lightly sucked her clitoris into his mouth. She raised her hips up off the bed and grasped his head as he continued his assault of her womanhood. Lacroix held her waist firmly as he drew her into himself. He closed his eyes as he rejoiced in her sweetness. "Lucien, please!" she begged him. Lacroix smiled. He slowly licked his way back up her body, again sliding his own against hers, gasping as the friction shot through his groin. He savored the pleasurable sensation of his cool body across along her fiery skin. Jordan took his member into her hands, feeling him shiver at her light touch. She slowly stroked his length and dropped one hand to caress and knead all of him. She smiled as he mewed and bucked into her hands. Jordan ducked her head, wriggling her body down the bed until her lips and teeth brushed across his hard nipples, sucking and nibbling upon them. Biting him hard every now and then, she was richly rewarded with a low, deep, rumbling growl, which she could feel vibrating up through the mattress. She licked and tongued his own navel and pulled at his pubic hairs with her lips. Raising her head, she gazed up to see him watching her; she fluttered her tongue over his tip. He threw back his head and closed his golden eyes in ecstasy. Jordan smiled benevolently and took him into her mouth. She twirled her tongue around him before taking him deeper. On the next upward motion she bit him...hard. Lacroix convulsively half sat up and let out a sharp, gutteral gasp. He was more than ready to receive her. Jordan straddled his waist, raising herself up, positioning herself. She rubbed her moistness over him, her thighs trembling with pleasure and anticipation. She held herself over his erection for an excruciating moment...He couldn't stand it any longer. Lacroix pulled her waist down as he bucked his length into her in a single hard thrust. They both gasped and held still as they joined. Jordan lay her hands flat upon his chest and slowly raised herself off him, and just as slowly, let herself be filled again. She hung her head, and her elbows buckled slightly, as he filled her body and soul. She opened her eyes and gazed down into his as she rose and fell upon him. She drank in his golden eyes and glistening fangs. He moaned again as she contracted her vaginal muscles around him, holding him tightly. He hissed, "Yesss!" Squeezing him tightly within her, Jordan felt her climax rising. It sped forth rapidly as Lucien began to draw his thumb in small, rapid circles over her clit. Their pace increased, she slamming down onto him as he continued thrusting up from beneath. Finally, Jordan threw back her head and cried out. Lacroix felt her begin to contract around him again, only this time harder and accompanied by her body shaking and thrusting downward with abandon, demanding he give her what she needed. Lacroix pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around her as he continued to move within her, his own movements becoming wilder and harder. "Now!" she gasped. "Come with me, now!" She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him against her breast. Her commanding words drove a spear of desire through his soul and into his loins. He needed only to thrust twice more before rearing back his head and sinking his fangs into her beautiful neck, groaning as he climaxed wonderfully inside her. Together, they shook and cried out as their orgasms wracked through each other, engulfing them with a pleasure so great, it threatened to take them into itself forever. Then she felt him. His love washed over her, calming the frenzy of ecstasy into a focused blanket of pleasure deep within her. She never tired of the amazement she felt at the force of his love for her, for her! She loved him equally, if not more. He was her universe. Cliched, she knew, but he made her whole. He shuddered as her life flowed across his tongue. He felt everything, knew everything with every drop of her blood. Jordan's love drove into his heart, giving it a warmth his cool body belied. How had he ever existed without her?! He carefully withdrew his fangs as he reached her limit, and lovingly licked and kissed the sealing wound until it was well on the way to healing. He drew her down to lie with him, stroking her soft brown hair as she lay across his panting chest as he came back into himself. Jordan slid slowly from him and wrapped herself around his body. They were both covered in a fine sheen of moisture, and she still marveled at the pink tinge his sweat left upon his skin. She wrapped her legs around his and held him close. Lacroix placed his own arms around her and nuzzled into her hair. They remained thus, gently kissing and caressing each other as they lay upon the wildly skewed bedclothes. "I have to get up," Jordan announced reluctantly sometime later. "One does not have to do any such thing." Lacroix held her tightly to him. He didn't want to relinquish his hold on her, to be without her touch, or to be without the wonderful scent of her body next to his. "Well, this one does, if she wants to pick up her paintings from the framers before they close," she countered as she extricated herself from his possessive embrace. "Stay. I'll send someone to collect them." Lacroix reached for Jordan's hand and pulled her back down beside him. "No, you won't. I want to go myself. I'm restless. I need to get out and get some air." She bent down and pecked his lips. "Very well, then," Lacroix grumbled, then pulled her back as she moved away, and kissed her soundly again before letting her go. He watched as she glanced back over her shoulder at him as she padded naked across the room and into the bathroom. He sighed softly as she disappeared from view, and smiled as he heard her start to sing under the warm shower. He thought about joining her. His smile widened and he shook his head as he swung his legs from the bed and rose, stretching to his full height, his arms high above his head. He let them drop back down to his sides and glanced back toward the closed bathroom door. His lips pulled up at the edges again and his eyes sparkled with mischief as he deftly and silently entered the steamy room. Nick sauntered into the squadroom, a half-hour late...again. He and Natalie had been particularly...active...when they woke of late, and they both had to rush to get ready for work. It was the third time this week. He was made well aware of this fact, as several officers poked fun at him as he strode toward his desk. He prayed the Captain hadn't been looking for him and quickly slipped into his chair while picking up a file, and began to read it as though he'd been there for hours, not minutes. But alas. "Knight! Get your sorry butt in my office!" Damn. Nick rose slowly from his chair and slunk toward the open doorway. "NOW!" Nick trotted the remainder of the distance and entered his superior's domain. "Shut the door," the large black man ordered him as he stood behind his desk with his hands on his hips. Nick closed the door and moved to sit in the chair opposite the Captain's desk. "On your feet, Detective!" Reese boomed. Nick winced as he knew the whole squadroom could hear the powerful voice. Nick shot to attention and remained silent. Reese moved out from behind his desk and stood close alongside him, his mouth about a foot away from his sensitive ear. "This is the third time, this week alone, that I've gone out into my squadroom needing to assign my best detective to an urgent case, and for the third time this week... he wasn't there!!" Reese continued to bellow without remorse or reprieve. "Then, if that wasn't enough," Reese picked up a pile of reports from his desk and waved them at Nick, "I find these pathetic excuses for incident reports on my desk!" "Ah, I can explain..." Nick started. Bad move. "AND THEY'RE NOT EVEN ALL THERE!!" Reese slapped the files back down onto his desk. "Two weeks! That's how long these reports have been sitting on your desk!" Nick ducked his head and clinched his jaw as the wave of guilt passed through him. He had lapsed into a major paperwork rut. He just hadn't been able to find the enthusiasm to do the endless task. Mind you, he hadn't actually tried all that hard. Tracy had been on leave for the past week, and he had been dumped with all the work he should have done earlier, plus what was due now, most of which he usually swindled his partner into doing. He stood ramrod as his Captain dressed him down. "I've had enough of your cavalier attitude toward crucial paperwork, Knight. I'm sick to death of having irate attorneys and legal clerks chewing ME out because one of my detectives hadn't filed an incident report correctly, or at all. I've have enough!" Nick could feel Reese's eyes blazing upon him and had the good sense to appear properly chastised, though it wasn't too difficult at this point. Reese took a deep breath before continuing. "So, for the next two weeks, the only paperwork you'll be doing is the issuing of speeding tickets and DUI reports." Nick glanced uncomprehendingly at his Captain as the man moved briskly back behind his desk, grabbing handfuls of paper. "I...I don't understand," Nick stuttered, shifting his feet, not having a good feeling about this at all. "You've been busted to traffic, Knight. You'd best get yourself a uniform." Reese leaned over his desk and glared at his blinking Detective. "Don't say a word. Just stow your desk and report to Sergeant Galloway." "But...but...traffic?" "You have been dismissed, Detective!" the Captain ordered. Nick haltingly turned to leave, then moved back to say something again. He looked completely stunned and confused. Traffic? He'd actually been busted to traffic? Reese had always threatened him with such an act, but Nick had never taken him seriously. After all he was his star, his golden boy, his number one detective... One last glance at his boss told him it had indeed been a grave error in judgment on his part. Nick paused, but decided not to push it--he didn't want to be reassigned permanently. The Captain slammed the door behind him as he finally left. "Nick?" Tracy rose from her desk to meet his astounded expression. He just stood and stared at her for a moment, his mouth moving, trying hard to issue some form of sound. "I...He...I've been busted to traffic," Nick finally spluttered, waving his hands back toward the closed door. Tracy stared back at him for a moment. "For how long?" Tracy asked him, frowning. She may have to break in a new partner. "Two weeks." "Ha!" Tracy laughed out loud and pointed a finger at him, realizing it wasn't going to be a permanent change. It was just Reese slapping Nick across the knuckles...hard. "You finally did it. You finally pushed him over the edge, Nick! This is going to be good! Do you have to wear a uniform?" Nick could only nod. "Ha!" Tracy laughed again. No sympathy there. Nick glared at his partner and brushed past her and over to his desk. Of course the whole department knew by now and Nick was receiving congratulations and smart remarks left, right and center. He just glared at them all and quietly fumed, ignoring the lot of them. Traffic!?! A short while later, after he had reported to Sergeant Galloway and had been assigned his new partner and uniform, Nick was standing in front of a mirror in the locker rooms fixing his tie, when his partner, a slightly overweight man with graying hair and counting the days to his retirement, slapped him heartily on the shoulder. "So, Knight, you finally got your pretty little ass kicked into the trenches, eh?" "You know how much I love you, Dog. How could I pass up the chance to spend your last two weeks on the force with anyone but yourself?" Nick replied as he pulled his cap on, checking out his new look in the mirror. Not half bad, if he did say so himself. Uniforms seemed to always look good on him. He'd have to drop by the morgue to show off his handsomeness to Nat. He smiled at the thought, then wondered if she was going to yell or laugh at him when she finally discovered his demotion. Sergeant Douglas Hound slapped Nick again as he laughed at his favorite detective appreciating himself in the mirror. "Come on, Officer Knight, let's roll!" Dog led a resigned Nick from the locker room and down into the basement to collect their unit, and together, they dutifully hit the honorable beat of the 96th Precinct. "I'll be back in about an hour, Paddy!" Jordan called over her shoulder as she strode through the Raven, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she went. "Ok, Jord," the Irish bartender replied. Jordan fished into her coat pocket for the keys to the car, and pushed the button on the garage remote as she aimed it at the rolladoor in the alleyway behind the nightclub. The door rose slowly to reveal a shiny new Jaguar (The fact it was black should go without saying) Lacroix had bought as a surprise for her. It gave her a sense of freedom she hadn't felt in a long time. No longer would she need to catch cabs, or catch pneumonia on the way to and from the regular outings which she and Lucien took pleasure in together, and because Lacroix detested taxis and refused to ride in them, unless absolutely necessary, they tended to either walk or fly to the less auspicious events. Jordan slipped in behind the wheel and turned the ignition. The engine roared to life and she smiled gleefully as she did every time she drove this beautiful machine. She sat for a moment and relished the sound of the engine rumbling in that special way only a V12 can. Pulling out from the garage, she skillfully negotiated the narrow alley and out onto the street. She loved driving. Her father had taught her from a young age, dragging her down to the testing centre the second she hit sixteen, and she had learned her skill well. Of course, her ex-husband had never let her drive, so finally getting behind the wheel again had been a big deal for her, especially when it was behind wheels this incredible. The choice of automobile was typical of Lucien. Classic, stylish and consummately predatorial. But she couldn't complain. She loved his taste, just as she loved everything else about him. Pulling out into the traffic, Jordan turned on the radio and headed toward the picture framers over on Spadina. End part 1 Part 2 Lacroix entered his office and sat down at his desk. He felt his lips pull into a smile as he recalled his evening shower. Much to his continued amusement, Jordan had eventually shut him in the bathroom so she could finally resume dressing. He leaned back in his chair, relaxing as he became lost in his thoughts. A soft knock on his door brought him abruptly back to the present. "Enter." Patrick walked in at his sharp summons. "I've the monthly stock take fer ye, boss, and last night's receipts." The bartender handed him a thick wad of paper and a bank pouch full of money. Lacroix took the offered paperwork and pursed his lips at the thought of what a tedious night this mundane task would provide. Still, he sighed and resigned himself to the project. Jordan enjoyed running the club once belonging to his daughter Janette. In truth, he, too, had become tolerant of the role the Raven played in the Toronto community. He was...happy here. Happy. Yes, he was happy. There was no other word to explain how he felt. Contented, settled, comfortable. All of these, but happy was what it came down to. Wherever she was happy, he was happy, and right now she wanted to be here, therefore so did he. He couldn't ever really remember feeling happy before. There had been times when he had almost been happy, but not like this. "Thank you, Patrick," he said without looking up. "Rather you than me," the vampire replied, smiling as he made a quick exit. Lacroix huffed at the rapidly retreating form as he flicked over the first page of his night's work. Nick relaxed down into the passenger seat, enjoying the role of riding shotgun for a change. He vigilantly observed the city pass him by, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of trouble. A blue sedan suddenly pulled out in front of them from a side street, forcing Dog to swear and slam on his brakes to avoid hitting him. Nick braced his forward momentum with a hand on the dashboard. "Did you see that idiot!" the middle-aged man yelled. "Look, he still hasn't seen us! Stupid prick!" Nick flicked on the lights and siren as Dog sped up to pull the sedan over. Nick smiled--his first ticket. He hadn't given anyone a ticket in over fifty years. Not since his stint on the force in Chicago. Nick stepped from the unit, pulling on his cap, and moseyed on up to the driver's window. "Evening, sir. Could you show me your driver's license, please?" Nick smiled as the young man hurriedly grabbed his wallet and produced the required documentation. Nick smiled again, only this time it made the young man shiver and begin to apologize profusely. Nick had forgotten the effect the uniform had on Joe Public. He could very well begin to enjoy wielding the power the uniform possessed, for a short time anyway. Jordan turned on to College Street, humming along with the radio. Back in the unit cruising their beat, Nick saw a dark red Taurus pass them by at an intersection. "Hey! Hey! That's Nat!" "The Coronor? Your fiancee, Natalie?" "Yeah, yeah. Come on, pull her over!" Nick waved Dog on. Nick sounded the siren as they pulled up behind her car. "Oh, are you gonna be in deep caca for this one, kiddo." Dog smiled and shook his head as he sped after the Coroner's car. "What the...?!" Natalie glanced in her rearview mirror as she pulled her car into the gutter. "Damned uniforms. Didn't even do anything," she muttered as she reached for her official ID. She frowned, ready to bawl out whichever poor fool had dared to pull her over. Then she felt something. A familiar tingle in her mind. Natalie looked into her mirror again and watched as the officer waltzed up to her window. "Evenin' ma'am. License and registration, please." Natalie looked up at the officer and did a double take. "Nick?" Nick smiled and reveled in the utter shock and speechlessness he had caused in his lover. She stared up at him with her mouth hanging open. "Nick?" she spluttered again. "What on earth are you doing in uniform? And more importantly, why have you pulled me over?" Natalie asked firmly as she pushed open her door and climbed out to face him. Nick grinned and ducked his head. "Ah, well. I kind of got myself temporarily reassigned," he told her. He saw her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Reese finally made good and busted you to traffic, didn't he?" she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him. Nick pursed his lips, trying not to smile as he nodded. "So?" Natalie asked impatiently "So?" "Why did you pull me over? It couldn't have been just to show me how gorgeous you look in that uniform, could it?" Natalie reached forward and hooked a finger into his belt, yanking him toward her in a most unprofessional manner. Nick cleared his throat, but didn't step away. "Ah, yes, well. There was that, too, but actually, I wanted to give you something." Nick recovered from the sudden touch of her leg between his and leered down at her, pushing her further up against the car door, pinning her there with his body. Dog chuckled inside the unit and shook his head as he flicked on the in-car video camera and pointed it at the pair. Nick tipped back his cap and placed his hands against the roof. He then leaned down and captured her willing lips in his. He kissed her hard and passionately, her arms moving up around his neck, holding him closer. Cars passing by tooted and shouted encouragement. Man, some people will do anything to get out of a ticket. The phone rang. "Yes?" Lacroix answered abruptly. He listened to the caller for a brief moment. "Enough," he ordered. The voice kept going. "Cease!" he demanded louder. "Whatever it is, I do not wish to purchase it...I am certain...No, I am not interested...Positively...No...Enough! If you ever call this number again, I will personally find you, oh, and I will find you, and tear your fetid little tongue out. Do you understand?!" The voice stuttered an answer and Lacroix hung up, a gratified smile crossing his face. Telemarketers--he wondered if they actually ever sold anything. Jordan glanced down to change the station on the radio. It had only been a glance, but when she looked up, she swore and pushed her foot to the brake as hard as she could. Even with ABS, blue smoke bellowed from all four tires, and the car went into a skid. Nick watched from inside the car as Natalie drove off, and grinned at his partner. Dog just grinned back and shook his head for the umpteenth time. "Kids," he muttered as they resumed their beat up Spadina. "Hey, ho. What's going on up there?" Dog asked as they neared an intersection. Thick black smoke and orange flames were bellowing from the road up ahead. "Looks like an MVA. Call it in," he told Knight. Nick obeyed, picking up the radio. They drew nearer and pushed the unit through the crowd which had quickly gathered. It appeared like the accident had only just occurred. Nick could see two cars were involved. Both were now mostly engulfed in large pulsing flames, accompanied by the thick black smoke they had seen from further back down the road. Nick frowned as he caught sight of the rear of one of the cars. It was a Jaguar, black. Nick's eyes widened as he read the plate number. "God, no," he whispered. "Nick?" "I know that car." "Hell," Dog murmured as he stopped the car. Nick was already bolting for the scene. "Nick, wait!" "Jordan!!" Nick yelled, casting his eyes around the crowd. He grabbed the nearest person. "Is there anyone inside?!" he demanded, shaking the young man. The man couldn't pull his gaze away from the burning wreckage. "Yeah, they're in there." Nick turned back to the inferno and attempted to get closer. "Jordan!" he yelled again, choking on the thick smoke and pulsing heat. Dog grabbed a hold of his arm, but he kept moving slowly forward. "Jordan!" "It's too late, Nick! There's nothing you can do!" Two new officers arrived and with a couple spectators, helped pull Nick to the ground. "JORDAN!!" he screamed. Lacroix looked up from his desk and stared across the room, his eyes unfocused. He frowned as a strange and unpleasent feeling swept through him. He shivered. Searching his children to find the cause of the sensation, he sensed that Nicholas was upset about something, very upset. One of his mortal games, no doubt. Nicky was fine, Janette, alive. Jordan? The feeling soon faded. He shrugged and dismissed it as coming from Nicholas. His son was in no immediate danger, so he let him be. Nick sat on the curb, a gray blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was shaking. He couldn't seem to stop. Jordan. He held his head in his hands and waited. She would come. The fire crews were extinguishing the blaze and ambulances were standing by, waiting for the coroner to arrive. Natalie pulled up to yet another grizzly MVA. She didn't usually attend MVA scenes, but she had been just up the road when the call came in. She stepped from her car and immediately saw Nick sitting in the gutter. One look at him sent her running over. Reaching him, she crouched down and gently touched his shoulder. She could feel him trembling. "Nick? Are you ok?" Nick slowly looked up and stared at her, his eyes so filled with grief she almost had to look away. "Nick?" She wiped a hand across his filthy brow and down his tear-streaked face. "Jordan," he whispered. Natalie frowned at him, then her eyes widened and she whipped her head around to look at the mangled, burnt mass behind her. "No." She sat abruptly down next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He buried his head into her shoulder. "Nat. How am I going to tell him?" Nick breathed. He looked up into Natalie's face and watched as her tears raced against his own. She didn't know how to answer. Instead, she pulled his head back down and held him tightly, rocking them both gently as they sat amidst the organized chaos of the emergency crews. Nick drove back to the station with Natalie. She then left him to go and supervise the arrival of Jordan's body at the morgue. Nick numbly showered and changed back into his own clothes, then returned to his desk to find his partner. She was waiting for him. Tracy had been told Nick had arrived at an MVA and had known one of the deceased. She had also been told he had been very upset. She just hadn't been told who it was. Their eyes locked as he entered the room. He faultered and paused. She came nearer. "Jordan," he answered her silent question. Tracy's brows met, and she covered her mouth with her hands. "No," she gasped. Nick moved forward and embraced her as she struggled not to cry and failed. Natalie arrived at her office in time to meet the ambulance. She stood aside and watched as the crew carefully removed a black body bag and wheeled it inside. They were all aware she knew who it was, and were particularly reserved and gentle. Natalie brushed a tear from her eye and followed them into the building. Entering the lab, Natalie thanked everyone as they gave her the required documents and left. The lab suddenly felt stark, sterile...lifeless. "Natalie?" She looked up to find Grace standing before her. "You don't have to do this. I'll call Jason. He can come in and take over," the large woman told her gently. "No, Grace, I have to do this." Moving to the autopsy table, Natalie drew in a deep breath. She knew what she would see, but she still had to do this. For Lacroix, she had to do this. She unzipped the bag. Nick and Tracy arrived at the Raven. They had arranged on the ride over to split up. Tracy would inform Patrick and Vachon, while Nick told Lacroix. They entered the solid room of sound, light and sweat. The mass of writhing bodies parted for them as they approached the bar. Tracy gave Nick's arm a quick squeeze before going their separate ways. Nick watched as Tracy motioned Patrick over to her as she stood beside Vachon at the bar. Looking toward the office doorway, Nick swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed himself forward. Lacroix felt Nicholas enter the Raven and waited patiently for him to come to him. At the soft knock, he beckoned his son into his office. Keeping his eyes on his work, he spoke his usual greeting. "Nicholas, to what do I owe the pleasure?" When Nick failed to reply, he glanced up. He frowned at the shocked expression and pallor of his son's face. "Nicholas? Are you unwell?" Lacroix just stared at him, waiting, as that unpleasant feeling slowly crept into his stomach once again. Nick moved his mouth to speak. Finally, he managed to whisper, fingers rubbing his right palm. "I...I have some bad news. There's been an accident." "Yes?" Lacroix was beginning to become agitated. "Jordan..." He had to clear his throat before beginning again. "Jordan..." Nick said over the tightness in his chest. "She's been killed," he almost whispered. The world stopped spinning as the pen Lacroix was holding dropped from his hand and fell softly to the thick carpet. No, she just went to the framers. She would be home any minute. Nicholas was mistaken. There had to be some kind of error. A moment of silence passed, in which Lacroix was able to collect himself, replacing his shock with indifference. No. She wasn't dead. She would be home soon. "Lacroix...I...I'm sorry." Nick felt tears fall anew as he watched Lacroix react to the bad news before that familiar mask fell into place. "How?" the ancient asked tersely, fixing his unseeing gaze onto his desktop. "A head-on collision. The driver of the other vehicle was killed also," Nick informed him, not taking his eyes from his father's face. It was completely emotionless, but that in itself seemed to scream to Nick that Lacroix had been hit hard by the news. "Thank you, Nicholas...I...I would like to be alone." He dismissed his child without moving his gaze from the safety of his desk. Picking up another pen, he blindly continued on with his work. She should have been home a long time ago. She should be home... Nick remained where he stood for a moment longer. "We'll need you to come in and identify her personal belongings," he told him quietly. Lacroix closed his eyes. There would be no lips to kiss goodbye. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Lacroix...I don't know what to say," Nick almost sobbed. "Then do not say anything, Nicholas," he replied roughly, quietly. Nick nodded solemnly, pausing for a moment. He really had no idea how to comfort the man before him, so he quietly left. But as he did so, he started suddenly, stumbling against the wall in the hallway. The connection he had shared with his sire for eight hundred years had been abruptly severed. His sire may as well be dead, for right now he could tell no different. In fact, he had never felt the link so shut off before, never. Not even when Fleur had died. He turned back toward the office door and debated whether or not to go back. He sighed, deciding not to, and headed toward the club instead. Nick reached the bar to find the club almost empty. Only the regulars who knew Jordan remained. Good. Neither he nor Lacroix were in the mood to tolerate the festivities tonight. Patrick was sitting on a stool in front of the bar, wiping tears from his eyes. Those who remained were all vampire, but for a single mortal, Tracy. She was leaning into Vachon's arms. He had never seen his kind so disturbed by, what to them would be, a mere mortal's death. But then Jordan had been special. In a way, she had been one of them. She had taken them all into her heart...and she had loved one of them in particular. They all knew how Lacroix loved her. They weren't blind. When he watched her from across the room, thinking his emotions well hidden, they could all see it as clear as any flare in the darkness. And when they were close and together, he would smile at her. A smile which no one had ever seen, it was for her eyes only. But they all saw it. They were grieving as much for his loss, as for their own. Sighing deeply, Nick took a stool and waved for a drink. Lacroix carefully set the pen in his shaking hand down on his desk the moment his son closed the door behind him. He brushed it over his mouth, clamping down harshly on the panic he felt rising rapidly inside. No, not again. He wasn't alone, he couldn't be...not again...she promised...forever... Abruptly and brutally, he slammed down his mind. He would feel nothing. It had worked in the past, it would suffice again. Retrieving his pen from the floor, he went back to completing the stock inventory and receipts. Two hours later Nick watched as Lacroix left his office and entered the club. "Nicholas," he beckoned as he walked past the small gathering of people, without acknowledging anyone else, and toward the front door. Nick hurried to keep up with his sire as he shrugged into his coat. In heavy silence, Nick drove Lacroix to the coroner's office. End part 2 Part 3 He stared out the car window, blindly watching the city lights passing by. He was cold. He thought of nothing, pulling his coat closer around him, blatantly denying the black emptiness within his heart, any acknowledgment of its growing, and overwhelming, presence. Nick pulled up to the coroner's office. He turned to his father. He seemed distant, staring into the darkness. "We're here," he said softly. Lacroix, without missing a beat, briskly opened the door and stepped out, waiting stoically for his son to join him and lead him inside. But Nick paused before going in. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, standing beside his sire. Lacroix's only response was to spin on his heel and stride toward the automatic doors. Nick sighed, watching his sire head toward the entrance. He then bowed his head and followed after him. Natalie felt them approaching and made an attempt to prepare herself. The swing door pushed gently open and Nick entered, followed a moment later by Lacroix. Natalie couldn't help but flinch inwardly at the cold, distant intensity in his eyes. She forced back her tears; they wouldn't be welcome, not now. She met his gaze for a moment and an understanding passed between them. "Lacroix." "Doctor." Professional. Just be the doctor and he'll make it through this. Natalie broke away and went over to a bench, upon which lay a brown envelope. Solemnly she lifted the package and brought it over to them. Lacroix stepped forward and Natalie opened the envelope to tip the contents into her hand. A pair of earrings, a ring, and a bracelet, all carefully cleaned, fell glistening in the light, onto her palm. She placed them gently onto the table. Lacroix hesitated slightly before lifting the ring between his fingers. It was a silver and greenstone band, the colour of which perfectly matched her eyes. He had given it to her...she never took it off. He nodded and put it down with the rest of her jewelry. Natalie retrieved a clipboard and pen and placed it before him. "I need you to sign here," she said quietly, indicating the place on the form. Lacroix silently took the pen she held out and signed his name and handed her back the pen. Then with a swift sweep, he gathered up Jordan's belongings and shoved them into his trouser pocket. Without a single word, he turned and left. Natalie let her tears fall. She turned blindly to Nick as he took her in his arms, pink streaks lining his own face. He, too, had seen the minuscule shaking of Lacroix's hand as he had stroked his name. Reaching the bottom step of the morgue entrance, he took a faltering step and came to a halt. He glanced hesitantly to his left, then his right, hoping something would draw him in a particular direction. But there was nothing. He wiped a hand across his mouth. Though he'd been here many times before, in this place of loss and death, it was perhaps the first time he had felt so lost. This time, there was no one, or circumstance, to push or pull him in any particular direction. When he had left Fleur, and then after her death, Nicholas and Janette had been there. They had provided some form of meaning and goal for him to turn his attention to...especially Nicholas. But now? Nicholas was here, but no longer his as he once was. Janette had disappeared into the world in search of her own destiny and then...and then, there had been Jordan. She had truly stolen his heart. She had become his new life...but now she was gone. He frowned heavily for the barest of moments as a sense of great loss surged through him. He chased it away with a void of nothingness, his last defense against emotions he refused to bear. Eventually, he just walked. He felt nothing, heard nothing, and saw nothing but the endless black pavement under his feet. Time passed--how much, he didn't know, but he found himself faltering again. Coming to a standstill, he glanced about him and found himself at the corner of the building where it had all begun. His crossroads, as it were. His life had changed at this place in time and space. Had it been for the better? At first, he had thought so. He'd thought he had finally found someone to share his life with, to love...and to allow her to love him... This was where they had first met. <<<<>>>> He had searched for her that night, but had found nothing. He had then banished her from further thought...but her eyes had found him within his dreams. He could see her now, standing before him in the empty bar of the Raven, bedraggled, filthy and thin. But her eyes... He smiled wanly as he recalled the bright fire burning within those depths. The way she held herself, the determined set of her jaw which he had come to know and cherish so completely...He shook himself. Feel nothing. Taking to the air, he returned to the Raven. Nick and Natalie went home as soon as Lacroix had left and booked off for the next week. They held each other as they rode up in the lift. Nick pulled open the door, one arm remaining securely around Natalie's waist. Nicky was standing deathly still just beyond the doorway, waiting. He was in his pajamas, having been sound asleep. Nick held his knowing gaze. His son had no doubt felt the mass of emotions from himself, and the enshrouding of his grandfather's bond. Natalie let go of Nick's waist and let him go to his son. He picked him up and held him to his body. She saw him whisper something into the boy's ear, then the tightening of Nicky's arms around his neck and the quiet sobs and tears which followed. Natalie walked over and joined them, embracing them both. He entered quietly through the back entrance, slowly making his way up the familiar stairs to his apartment. It was all so strangely foreign now. Pushing open his bedroom door, he stood in the doorway, struggling to maintain the void within himself as he glanced around the room. It appeared as it always did, giving no sign to the tragedy which had so recently befallen its inhabitants. This whole night refused to sink in. Everything was so intensely surreal, he was unsure if he was truly awake. Perhaps, this night was nothing more than a dream...a nightmare...yes, a nightmare. Her clothing, her shoes, jewelry, her scent, it was all still there, just as she'd left it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out her jewelry, carefully placing it upon the bureau beside him. Nothing. He stepped from the room and softly closed the door, and moved to enter the bedroom across the hall where his grandson slept. He shed his clothes, letting them fall to the floor. Drawing back the covers of the bed, he slipped inside, pulling the bedclothes back up and tucking them under his chin. He pulled up his knees and shivered. He was still cold. His proud wall shook once again, threatening to fall completely. But he couldn't allow that to happen...she was no longer here to wipe away his tears. Nick gazed, with sad love, at his sleeping family. They were here, they were safe, but not all. He tried to reach out to his sire once again, and once again was greeted by emptiness, silence. Jordan had quickly become part of their unique family--unique even among his own kind. He would have to begin funeral arrangements. He could safely guess his sire would not be the one to do such a thing. It would be after dusk, of course. Most of her friends were of the nocturnal persuasion. It would be simple, yet elegant. He wasn't sure if Lacroix would attend. He hoped he would, for his own sake, if not for Jordan. Nick sat up suddenly and slipped out of bed. He had just realized Jordan's parents and her brother hadn't been notified. Damn. He would have to call Lacroix for their phone number. No, not Lacroix. Patrick would know where she kept it. Nick made a quick call to the Raven and thankfully the bartender answered. After a quick search of Lacroix's office, Patrick had found the U.S number. "Thanks, Patrick." "Aye, anytime, lad." Nick paused then asked, "Is he there?" He heard the Irishman elicit a sad sigh. "Aye. He came in a short while ago. Went straight to his rooms." Patrick drew in a shaky breath. "I'll surely miss our lass," he said quietly. "We all will." "Some of us more than others, lad...some of us more than others," Patrick whispered. Nick hung up and dialed the US. When a middle-aged male voice groggily answered, he began his rehearsed speech. "Mr. Walker?" "Yes. Do you know what time it is, young man?" Jordan's father asked. "Yes, sir. My name is Detective Nick Knight. I'm calling from Toronto. I'm afraid I have some bad news regarding your daughter, Jordan." Nick finally replaced the phone into its holder. Jordan's family were leaving for Toronto the next morning. Nick had arranged for three first-class tickets to be waiting for them at the airport. Jordan hadn't spoken much about her family. She had been estranged from them while married to her ex- husband, and had only very recently contacted them again. She and Lacroix had been planning a trip to see them in a few weeks. They had seemed nice enough people, and they had agreed for him to make the necessary arrangements for her burial. Nick picked up the phone again and dialed the Four Seasons to reserve rooms, with any and all expenses for them charged to his credit card. Feeling as though he had finally done something, Nick fell back into his bed, a small, warm arm falling across his chest. He pulled his son closer against his side and rested his chin on his short blonde curls. Natalie moved closer to Nicky and reached over as well to rest her hand on Nick's stomach. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take the darkness away. He rolled gently onto his side and reached out a hand to draw her warmth to rest within his empty arms... His fingers brushed against the empty sheets. He frowned, confused. He opened his eyes. He was in Nicholas' room. Jordan was dead...and he was alone. Grief threatened once again, but he was becoming apt at pushing it, and all else away, having woken several times throughout the course of the day. Feel nothing, that was the key to his survival. It always had been. He knew this. He abruptly threw back the sheets and rose from the bed. He pulled on his clothes and strode into his own room. Reaching into the wardrobe, he pulled out a suitcase. Placing it upon the bed, he opened it. Quickly, almost feverishly, he began to gather all of Jordan's belongings and threw them haphazardly into the case. Moving around the room, he emptied drawers, boxes, searched under the bed, in the bathroom, collecting together her shampoo, soap, hairbrush--all of it went into the large case. Once he had everything, he closed it tightly, then lifted it and carried it down the hallway to a room he used for storage. He placed it on the floor, and without looking back, he left, closing the door firmly behind him. He returned to his room. All traces of her had gone. All but one. He could smell her. She permeated the room. Striding to the bed, he yanked off the sheets and duvet, shoving them into the laundry chute in the hallway. Standing still in the center of his room, he stared, and absorbed the emptiness that was now his life. His shroud of protection fell away for an instant, and he almost doubled over as the overwhelming pain in his chest moved into his stomach. A moment later, he found himself on his knees, retching over the toilet bowl. End part 3 Part 4 Nick and Natalie lay in bed as they talked about the funeral. Nicky was downstairs, curled up on the couch watching TV. They had all awakened early, and the sun was only just now setting. "Her parents, Jonathan and Helene, and her younger brother, Michael, will arrive at about three this afternoon." "I'll go and meet them," Natalie said as she absently traced a pattern on Nick's chest. He nodded. "I've put them up at the Four Seasons." "Ok." They lay quietly for a moment. "This can't be real. This just can't be happening." Nick closed his eyes. Natalie watched the all too familiar guilt flood over him. "No, Nick. Don't. There was nothing you could have done." "But I was there, Nat," he whispered. "I know...I know," she whispered back, cuddling up against him. Quietly they held each other. "How's he doing?" Natalie asked as she lay against him. "I don't know. I still can't sense him." Nick really didn't know how Lacroix was taking Jordan's death. He had never showed much, if any, emotion before, even after Fleur, and then, the most he had felt from his sire was anger. But now...? He felt nothing from Lacroix. Nothing at all. This worried him more than any rage ever could. "He opens his heart so rarely, Nat. How will he stand going through this again?" he whispered. Nick closed his eyes and desperately, yet gently, pushed into his bloodlink in an effort to feel something from Lacroix...anything. But still, there was nothing but a vast emptiness. Patrick glanced up and raised an eyebrow as Lacroix sat down in his usual place at the end of the bar. He poured the vampire his usual glass of reserve and placed it before him, watching as the ancient took an absent sip, before he spoke. "Nick called her parents. They arrived this afternoon." Lacroix nodded and picked up the clipboard lying on the bar. "He and Natalie have made funeral arrangements for tomorrow night," Patrick went on, knowing the man would want to know but would probably never ask. "The reception will be here afterward...if that's all right with you." "Very well," Lacroix responded, flicking through the papers in his hand. He had no intention of attending either. Patrick observed the determined set of the owner's jaw, and the detached glaze of his cold eyes, before turning back to serve the new customers. The front door of the Raven opened and in entered a laughing group of young women. He watched as Lacroix glanced toward the door, then the flash of pain as he followed the women to their table. Patrick averted his gaze as the ancient turned back to the bar, but it was drawn back as the vampire abruptly rose and disappeared into his office. The Irishman stared, with surprised concern, at the glass left behind on the bar, then at the doorway through which the ancient vampire had vanished. Natalie wrung her hands together as she stood waiting at the arrival gate. She had no idea what Jordan's family looked like. Jordan had said her brother was cute and that she looked like her mother. But other than that... She watched as an endless stream of people filed through the entry. Then she saw them. It could only be them. Apart from the appearance of Jordan's mother, who indeed looked exactly as Jordan would have at her age, they all wore the same grieved expression of loss. Natalie moved to meet them. "Mr. & Mrs. Walker?" she asked as she drew near. They all turned toward her and Jordan's father raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" Natalie smiled soberly. "My name is Natalie Lambert. I'm a close friend of Jordan's." She saw a spark of recognition in their eyes, and Jordan's mother smiled warmly. "Oh, hello, Natalie. Jordan has mentioned you in her letters. It's so good to finally meet you at last." "I only wish it were under better circumstances," she replied softly. "I'm Michael." A handsome young man, in his early twenties, offered her his hand. "And this is my husband, Jonathan," Helene completed the introductions. "Nice to meet you, my dear," the dark-haired man smiled, taking her hand in turn. "Nick has booked rooms for you at the Four Seasons," Natalie told them as she ushered them toward the exit and crossed into the parking lot. They all stopped beside the caddie. "Nice car," Michael said, clearly admiring the classic automobile. "It's Nick's," Natalie smiled. "He's sorry he couldn't meet you himself. He has a severe allergy to the sun." She waved a hand at the blue sky. "But he and our son are going to join us for dinner after the sun sets." "Yes, he mentioned something about that," Jonathan spoke at last. "The funeral will be after dark?" "Yes. I hope that will be all right?" she hurriedly asked them, fearing they might disapprove. "Yes, yes. It will be more than all right. Jordan always loved the stars...and the moon will be out tonight," the burly, middle-aged man added wanfully, softly belaying her fears as they all piled into the car. Lacroix was at his desk. He had completed all the pending paperwork required in the day-to-day running of the club, and was now starting on his tax return. He had almost frantically found something to keep himself busy throughout the evening. Anything to keep his mind occupied. To think of anything...but her. He had gone through his usual routine. He had sat at the bar, watched the gathering crowd, sipped at his wine, arranged his show. Tonight he had queued tapes of previous shows. He couldn't speak, not now. What else could he do? The offender was dead. He could destroy his family, he could rant and rave at his staff, at Nicholas. But it wouldn't come. He waited, but he felt no desire. Not the familiar surge of rage and bloodlust which preceded such action, such revenge. He thought about doing it anyway, but the effort seemed all too much to deal with right now. He felt nothing, and in doing so, it not only denied him his grief, but his rage as well. So he did his taxes. Natalie spoke pleasantly with Jordan's family as they sat around a large table in the hotel restaurant, waiting for Nick and Nicky to arrive. They had talked easily about Jordan's childhood. They had laughed and recalled pleasant memories as they passed the afternoon away. Natalie rose as she saw Nick enter the restaurant, followed by his son. She waved them over and made the introductions. Nick shook the men's hands and kissed Helene. They had talked for some time on the phone the night before. "And this is my son, Nicky," Nick said, grasping Nicky's shoulder and pulling him forward a step. "Yes, I can see that!" Helene exclaimed as she gave Nicky a hug. "I'm sorry about Jordan," Nicky told her quietly in his accented English. "I'll miss her." "Thank you, Nicky. I'll miss her too. We all will," Helene spoke softly to the child. The table was quiet for a moment as an empty, slightly uncomfortable feeling washed over them. It was Jordan's father who broke the silence. "Please take your seats. You must be hungry." Nicky smiled at the kind, energetic man and nodded. He watched the family as they ordered from the menus, pronouncing the French very badly. Nicky had to keep himself from laughing, but he managed after receiving an amused, yet stern look from his father. Jordan looked like her mom, he observed, but she acted more like her dad. Nicky smiled as he caught her brother Michael watching him watch them. He was sitting next to him, and the dark-haired man leaned down conspiratorially and whispered into his ear, "Me, I think I'm adopted." Nicky glanced from Jordan's father and back to Michael. They looked as much alike as Jordan and her mother. Nicky bent toward him and in the same whispered tones, he said, "Um, I don't think so." "Yeah, I guess you're right," he admitted reluctantly. They both chuckled and smiled at each other. "So," Nicky said. "Do you like hockey?" "I don't know. Is it anything like soccer?" Nicky rolled his eyes, and the pair spent the rest of the evening talking sports while the grownups discussed their jobs and lives in general. As the evening was drawing to a close, Helene asked Nick and Natalie a question. "I wonder if you two know anything about Lucien? I would very much like to meet him." Nick and Natalie's smiles fell. They glanced at one another, but it was Nick who spoke. "Yes... He's my father." This raised a few eyebrows around the table. "Wow. Jordan said he was older, but not that old," Michael quipped before he could stop himself. He wilted a little at the glare from his father. "Well, he's not that much older. He was quite young when he had Nick," Natalie told them, regretting the twisted truth she was having to tell them. "She loved him so very much," Helene said softly. "She spoke of him constantly when we talked." "And he loves her equally, if not more." Nick held the woman's gaze so she could see the truth in his eyes. "How's he holding up?" Jonathan asked, leaning his elbows on the table. Nick looked to Natalie for support. She smiled wanfully. He turned back to Jordan's parents. "He's not doing so well." Nick dropped his gaze to the table. "In fact, if you will all forgive me, I think I'd better go and see how he is." Nick rose from the table, placing his napkin over his plate. "Of course. Please send him our regards, and tell him we would very much like to meet him." Helene reached up and gave Nick a kiss goodbye. "I will. I'll see you all tomorrow night." He waved to everyone and quickly left. The mentioning of Lacroix had spurred him into making a visit. Patrick had called him earlier, just before he had left for the hotel, telling him Lacroix hadn't been eating, and had spent the whole day doing paperwork. When it came to mundane things like paperwork, although he was always orderly and efficient, Lacroix was worse than he was. More often than not, Patrick would be stuck with all the inventory and receipts to file. So now he was really worried. He kept thinking about what he would do if it had been Natalie. It so easily could have been. If it weren't for his son, he would have walked into the sun the very next day. He was sure of it. But Lacroix wasn't him, and if he were thinking such things, however unlikely, he hoped to God that he and Nicky would be enough to stop him. Nick stepped into the Raven--the place was full, but strangely subdued. Then again, perhaps it wasn't so strange. The crowd parted respectfully as he walked slowly toward the bar. Patrick met him. "Nick." The vampire smiled sadly. Nick returned it. "Patrick. Is he here?" "Sorry, lad. I don't know." Nick chewed his bottom lip. It wasn't just him and Nicky; Lacroix had shut himself off completely, and the others were picking up on the absence of the ancient's powerful vibrations. The Raven wasn't the cheeriest place to be right now. Nick nodded and let the bartender get back to work, heading further back toward the office. He opened the door. Empty. He went on upstairs, bounding up them three at a time and pushed open the bedroom door. "Lacroix?" He wasn't here either, but Nick noticed the absence of all of Jordan's belongings, even in the bathroom. He checked every other room in the building. He even went down into the cellar. He wasn't here. Nick jogged up to the roof. Standing at the edge, he closed his eyes and pushed out, searching for any sense of his father. Nothing. Where would he have gone? Jordan's apartment! Nick launched himself into the sky and sped across the rooftops. He landed on her fire escape and pried open the window. Stepping inside, he felt his stomach and chest tighten, blood tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He stood in the center of the apartment she now used solely as an art studio, and turned in a slow circle, taking everything in. He walked over to a stack of paintings propped against a wall. He flicked through them, smiling at a couple of rather racy ones of Lacroix. He lifted his head as he remembered where Jordan was going when she was killed. He must remember to go and collect her work from the framers. He took a final look around and brushed the tears away. He breathed in a last gasp of her scent, and climbed back out through the window. Where would he have gone? Water. It had always been Lacroix's choice of someplace quiet to go and get away from it all. Of course, in the past 'it all' had usually been him. Nick took to the sky once again. This time he turned toward Lake Ontario. He scoured the lake's edge until, finally, he found him sitting on a park bench looking out over the moonlit water. Nick landed softly behind him. He stood and watched his sire for a moment. He hadn't sensed him yet. "Nicholas." Lacroix was sitting regally, his legs crossed, head held high. Nick now wasn't sure as to whether the ancient had felt him arrive or not. He frowned, hating how he always kept him guessing. "Lacroix." "What can I do for you?" the ancient asked in his usual calm, superior tone. Everything seemingly back to normal. "Ah," Nick walked over and sat down at the opposite end of the bench, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Jordan's family have arrived. They would like to meet you," he told him. Lacroix nodded. The silence continued for a moment. "I was wondering if you were coming to the funeral?" Nick asked softly. "I wasn't planning to. You know I don't attend such tedious mortal ceremonies, Nicholas." Lacroix glanced sternly over to his son. Truth be told, he didn't think he would make it through her funeral, and he had a certain reputation to uphold. "Yes, I know." Nick drew in a quick breath. "But we would really appreciate it if you came." Nick rose his eyes to meet Lacroix's. "I need you to be there." Nick rubbed his fingers together nervously. Lacroix appraised his son as he fidgeted beside him. "Perhaps." He returned his gaze to the soothing water spread out before him. "I was going to say a few words," Nick watched as Lacroix gazed over the glistening harbor, "and I thought, maybe, you would like to help me find something appropriate to read." Lacroix sighed irritably. "Really, Nicholas." "It was just a thought," Nick bit back tersely, rising from his seat. "This is exactly why we do not get involved with mortals, Nicholas," his sire continued stoically. Nick took a long look at him. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe Lacroix was taking this all in his stride, just like he did everything else in his life. Strong, confident, uncaring. Maybe he hadn't loved Jordan as deeply as he had thought. Lacroix would probably be back to his normal, arrogant self by tomorrow, and would give him hell for being so sentimental, and toward a mortal, no less. But then again, it was the ancient sitting here on this park bench, staring out into the darkness...alone. "Are you all right?" he asked him softly. Lacroix just glanced in his direction for a moment before turning away as he silently nodded. Nick frowned and heaved a silent sigh of resignation. He had at least expected a verbal denial. This silence worried him. Lacroix was not all right. He could see it in his eyes. But he knew the man would never accept a shoulder to lean on. Nonetheless, he silently vowed to be there for him regardless. How often had his sire supported him? He'd lost count centuries ago. Reluctantly, Nick turned his back on his sire and walked toward a darker patch of parkland before taking to the sky. Lacroix uncrossed his legs and let his shoulders slump a little. The energy it took to appear his usual self was beginning to take its toll. He accepted the apathetic opinion Nicholas had of him. It would better serve his needs in the future. It always paid to keep the upper hand with that boy. That detached 'other self' knew damned well what he was doing. He was pushing his son away, he was pushing him away before he could leave him...hurt him. He needed to be in control. He needed to control the emptiness, the pain, Nicholas,...something. He sat for a while longer before pushing himself up off the bench, and feeling every one of his 2000 years, he slowly began the lonely walk back toward the Raven. He rolled gently onto his side, and reached out a hand to draw her warmth to rest within his empty arms... Holding his eyes closed, he caressed the silk beside him. The sun was far from setting, but he could sleep no longer. Slowly rising, his eyes carefully avoiding the empty space where his hand had rested, he crossed the hall and entered his own room. He was still unable to sleep here, though he found it difficult to sleep anywhere now. Detached from himself, going through the motions, he stepped into the shower. Holding his head under the soft flowing water, he valiantly tried to focus his thoughts on the warm touch of each individual drop as it beat upon his skin. Nothing else. But the memories refused to be forced aside. The last time he had come to this place...she had been here. She had been alive, her heart beating, her eyes smiling...and he hadn't felt this empty...this alone. It was where they had said goodbye. It wasn't long before his gaze found the shower wall, the steam billowing around him, defining the marks her hands had left behind. It had been the last time they made love. He stared for a moment, his lips parting as the unwanted memories came rushing forth. Finally, reaching forward, he gently placed his own hands over hers, then closing his eyes, he lowered his forehead to rest against the wall. <<<<< He gazed down upon her beauty, lying entwined together in their bed. He felt her warmth against him as she lay in his arms, her bloodscent delicately filling his senses. They talked about nothing special, and when a silence fell comfortably between them, she suddenly turned to look up into his eyes and whispered, "I love you, you know." She smiled, and her green eyes sparkled. In return, his heart thumped as it always did when she told him. He would read it in her blood, but to hear her say the words aloud never failed to encompass him with the complete glory of knowing, without a doubt, he was truly loved by this woman. "I know," he breathed, gazing down into her eyes, returning her gentle smile.>>>>> "Mon coeur..." His whispered call went unanswered, and he remained with his hands against hers, until long after the water had run cold. Eventually he stepped from the shower and numbly dried himself. Selecting his clothing, he chose the shirt and suit she had best liked to see him in, pulling them slowly and meticulously on. His endless, seemingly insatiable hunger was noticeably absent, still, he forced himself to down half a glass of whatever was in his bar. Just enough to keep the vampire appeased. He moved into his living room, lowered himself into his favorite chair and retrieved the book he had been reading, placing it in his lap. It remained clutched in his hand and unopened as he stared into the fire, waiting for the sun to fall. End part 4 Part 5 Nick smoothed down the black lapels of his son's jacket and brushed the lint from his shoulders. Nicky smiled sadly up at him, then moved into his father's arms. They had dressed in their matching, tie-less black suits, complete with shirt and waist coat. They both turned to watch as Natalie descended the stairs, also dressed in a warm, yet elegant black flowing dress. She joined them in a hug, then each straightened the other's clothing before heading down to the car. Nicky had been given the honor of lighting the dozen torches positioned around the graveside as Nick and Natalie reverently scattered a carpet of rose petals over the ground. They had arrived early to set up what was needed. They didn't want anyone there who didn't need to be. Vachon and Tracy pulled up in Tracy's car and soon joined them. Standing alongside the Knights, Vachon finally broke the silence which had descended. "I've not been to a funeral in over 400 years." Tracy just stared at the Spaniard's soft comment. "Never?" Vachon shook his head. "Was never around long enough," he said sadly. Tracy took his arm and leaned against him as he stared sadly into one of the naked flames. Several vampires arrived unseen by air, just before a black limousine arrived. Jordan's family stepped out and slowly joined them. "This is beautiful, Nick. Natalie." Helene kissed first Nick, then Natalie, grasping her arms. "Yes, thank you both." Jonathan shook Nick's hand, taking his wife by the arm, holding her close, with Michael on the other. After a few more minutes, close to fifty people had gathered around the grave. Many were regulars and staff at the Raven. The light flickering from the torches radiated a soft, orange, almost life-giving glow across the array of normally pale faces. He stood watching the gathering. It was something he had never before witnessed in all his years. He wiped his mouth as he reined in and took tight control of himself. He felt nothing, he must. He couldn't fall, not here, not now. He lightly let his presence be felt and moved toward the light. The crowd fell silent and gently parted. Making eye contact with no one else, Lacroix stepped slowly through his people, and approached Jordan's parents, his eyes fixed solely on her mother. Her eyes. She smiled, knowing at once who he was. "Lucien." She took his hands in hers, pulling him down to kiss his cheek. She whispered in his ear, "I'm glad you came." She held his gaze. He let his eyes smile for her and he whispered her name. "Helene." He turned to greet and shake hands with Jordan's father and brother. Glancing at Nick, he took up a position between his son and Jordan's mother. An elegant black hearse slowly entered the cemetery. A hushed sadness encompassed the funeral party as they silently watched it drive toward them. A heavy grief fell upon them all. A sprinkling of sniffing and the odd sob was caught by the slight breeze and whisked over them and away into the darkness. Lacroix held his gaze upon the car. She was in there. The sudden need to touch her, hold her, to hear her whisper his name...it was almost too much. He could see the flower-covered coffin resting in the back, and he fought and swallowed against the tight sensation rebelliously constricting his throat. He took a slow, deep breath, and forced himself to relax. As the hearse pulled to a halt, Nick, Vachon, Patrick and Oliver moved forward to act as pall bearers. They quietly took up their positions around her, pulled her from the vehicle and lifted her smoothly and gently to their shoulders. They marched her up the small path, through the parted crowd to her grave, then lowered her to rest upon the slings laying across the black abyss into which they would send her. When she was settled, the men stepped back to rejoin their friends and family. Everyone focused on the beautiful coffin of rich wood and flowers. Lacroix clenched his jaw tightly and kept his gaze fixed firmly upon the red and yellow roses cascading across her. He felt Nicholas leave his side once again. Nick waited for a moment before speaking as he observed the black handkerchiefs wiping away tears and brushed away his own. "Jordan...our daughter, sister, friend, lover. A woman we all have grown quickly to love and cherish within our small community. She has brought unto us a brightness of soul and strength of character which endeared her to us all. Then much to our surprise, she cherished us in return. She accepted what and who we all are, and still...she loved us." Nick glanced meaningfully to Lacroix, who had his eyes fixed firmly and unwaveringly on her coffin. "Her memory will live with us all, until we, too, finally find our own peace. Perhaps then, we shall meet again. But until that day...We shall miss you, Jordan, and shall remember you always." A few others stepped forward to speak, including Jordan's father. When Jonathan had finished his tearful words, Nick came forward again. He paused for a moment before continuing. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all to short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair some time declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; Nor shall death brag thou wand' restin his shade, When in eternal lines to time shall grow'st. So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee." Nick lifted a vibrant red rose from a flower basket and held it to his lips for a moment before placing it onto Jordan's coffin. The pall bearers stepped forward once more and began to lower her into the earth. When it reached the bottom, Helene stepped forward and took a rose, kissing it and dropping it into her daughter's grave. She was followed by her father, Michael, Natalie, Nicky, then finally Lacroix. He moved slowly to take the single remaining rose gently in his fingers. Lifting it to his lips, he held it there for a long moment. Deliberately, he pricked his thumb against a rugged thorn and let his blood run the length of the stem, before he, too, let it fall from his fingers. His blood would tell her all he wished to say. Those gathered slowly departed, no one really quite ready to leave her. Nick glanced around for Lacroix, but he had already quietly slipped away. He ushered his family back to the car, having first seen Jordan's family to theirs. They were all heading to the Raven for the reception. The Raven was quiet. Not even the everpresent Patrick was to be seen. He stood, momentarily stunned at the reigning emptiness. It seemed to reflect his very soul. He took a step forward, then another, until he was finally within the safety of his room. The funeral had been profoundly difficult. He almost wished he had never attended, yet at the same time was unregretful he had done so. All of his strength had been needed to keep control of his emotions, to keep the tears tightly sealed away. He was sure he had trembled with the effort. The presence of Jordan's mother had almost been his downfall. Her eyes. They were hers. Still, the whole affair had been nothing but a blur. All he could remember at this moment were the red and yellow roses lying upon her coffin, and the single stem he had let slip from his fingers. Nicholas had said something, he couldn't recall just what. It would come to him... He stepped toward the bed and lifted her pillow to his face, suddenly, desperately, needing to smell her, touch her, taste her. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes tightly, and drowned in her scent. Nick handed his son a soft-drink and turned back to take his and Natalie's harder versions from the bar. Nicky followed him back to their table, sipping at his Coke as he walked. Nick slid into the booth next to Natalie, Tracy and Vachon on the opposite side. His son arrived and half leaned, half sat on his father's lap. Nick wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him close. "Is he here?" Vachon glanced at Nick over his wineglass. Nick shook his head solemnly. "I don't know. Maybe," he said. After a pause he added, "I wasn't sure if he was going to come." Nick spoke softly, twisting his glass stem thoughtfully. "Is he all right?" Vachon asked. The old General had appeared subdued at the funeral. The usual energy he exuded so easily seemed oddly absent. Nick just shook his head again. He didn't know...he just didn't know. Nicky carefully put down his drink. He placed both hands firmly upon the table. "Nicky, what is it?" Tracy asked, concerned as she saw the boy's face crumple and his body beginning to shake. Nick was about to lift him from his knee to see what was wrong when he felt it also. He took a deep, shuddering breath and drew his son up onto his lap and held him close. "Nick?" Natalie touched his shoulder softly. He turned to her. "Lacroix," he whispered, and she wrapped an arm around his waist and rested her head upon his shoulder. So now they all knew. They knew, without a doubt, that Lacroix's once stone-cold heart had now truly been torn brutally from what remained of his soul. Lacroix crawled up onto their bed and slowly lowered himself to lay down, pulling the pillow he was still clutching to rest under his cheek. He breathed in her scent and closed his eyes. In his perfect memory he saw and cherished her face, her eyes, her lips. He relaxed gently as he felt the ghost of her reminisce...her love, wash into his mind, caressing his broken heart even as it was being crushed under the weight of his pain. <<<<>>>> He rolled gently onto his side and reached out a hand to draw her warmth to rest within his empty arms... He opened his eyes, and softly returned her smile through his unshed tears, her perfect form laying beside him, just as she always had. "I love you, you know," he whispered. "I know." Finis Coming soon, the sequel to "Her scent upon the pillow," "Wounded Hearts." End part 5