Date: Mon, 20 May 1996 22:36:57 -0700 From: LC Fenster Subject: Matters of the Heart (1/1) (contains LK spoilers) You have been warned! Well, here's another one for the LK collection. I already did the "nightmare" version; this is a "it really happened, but they live anyway nyaah nyaah" version. Short and not so sweet. I don't know where this one came from either. Must be the weather. :-) Comments, etc. as always to lucienlc@ix.netcom.com MATTERS OF THE HEART LaCroix contemplated his most adored, most difficult child as he knelt before him, clasping the hand of the thrice-be-damned mortal woman who had precipitated this debacle. Of course, Nicholas had done more than his share to help matters along. In all the centuries, the ancient vampire had never met another possessing one tenth of his son's dubious talent for creating disaster out of the simplest matters. It should have been a straightforward draining, cleaning up an awkward loose end as they moved on to the next life, the next place. But where Nicholas was involved, things were never that simple. He could have intervened. He *should* have. He had been waiting for Nicholas when the Lambert woman arrived. He could have dealt with her, left his son with a corpse and a fait accompli. Nicholas would have been outraged, he would have cursed his father, he would doubtless have fled Toronto on his own -- but he would have been spared this misery, this heartbreak. This preposterous guilt. LaCroix had endured his son's hatred before; he could have done so again. Time would heal the rift, as it had in the past. But he had enjoyed their recent closeness, the joy of knowing that his child once again cared for him, enjoyed his company. He hadn't wanted to risk it. And, after all, Nicholas was almost 800 years old as a vampire; past time to begin making his own decisions, his own choices. No - better to allow Nicholas to decide the mortal's fate. How he regretted that decision now! "Damn you, Nicholas!" He spoke the words with a soft vehemence as, with one swift motion, he raised the stake. For milliseconds it hovered there, his decision in abeyance. Then he brought the stake down. Nick crumpled to the ground beside the body of Natalie Lambert. He curled in on himself, moaning from the blinding agony of the staking. Having endured a similar experience at the hands of this very child, LaCroix did not have to imagine the pain his son must be feeling. He knew. He could feel the burning tip boring into him even now. Still he forced himself to watch his son's suffering for several long minutes with deceptive calmness. Finally, he knelt beside Nicholas, and dispassionately considered the wound. "Missed," he said finally. "Wh-what?" Nicholas gasped out the word with an effort. "I think it grazed the heart, but didn't quite pierce it. This could take a while, I'm afraid." His son whimpered. In protest or disbelief, he wasn't sure. Not that it mattered. "Really, Nicholas, this is entirely your own fault. If you think I have any experience in staking my fellow vampires through the back, you are quite mistaken. Especially at so difficult an angle as you presented." His son's continued moaning was his only reply. "Perhaps I should pull it out and try again?" he offered helpfully. "I'm *fairly* certain that I could get it right the next time." He grasped the stake and pulled slightly. It moved about a quarter inch, evoking a terrible howl from Nicholas, who shrank away from him. "No? Perhaps you're right. I may have gotten just enough of the heart the first time to finish the job. Eventually. I'm in no hurry. We can wait." He knelt beside his son, raising him up. "Unless, of course, you have changed your mind? Forget this foolishness, Nicholas. You don't really want to die. You know it and I know it. You merely wish to be free of this intolerable burden of guilt. There are easier ways of accomplishing that than self-annihilation." "Damn ... you ... LaCroix," Nicholas gasped out the words, spitting out blood at the same time. "Probably." The elder vampire turned from his son to stare once again at the corpse of the mortal woman lying beside him. Damn Natalie Lambert for precipitating this debacle. Even if he succeeded in talking his son out of this, it would be decades, perhaps longer, before Nicholas would recover. And far longer before he would forgive LaCroix for not killing him. As he glared at her motionless body, his eyes suddenly narrowed. He heard something, or sensed something. He released his grip on Nicholas, allowing him to sink back to the floor, and focused his attentions on the Lambert woman. No. He had not been mistaken. To one as old and knowledgeable as he, the signs could not have been clearer. Nicholas had been woefully careless in this matter, triggering a blood exchange with the human. Unless, of course, it had been deliberate - but from his son's reactions, that seemed highly improbable. There was life in the Lambert woman still. Altered life. The good doctor had not received enough vampire blood to come across, but there was just enough to hold death at bay. Left as she was, the woman might hover indefinitely in a comatose state, caught between both worlds. A bare mouthful would suffice to bring her across completely. Or the mortals with their modern scientific methods, might possibly bring her back, to be a hunter of vampires, but LaCroix would never allow that. He glanced at Nicholas, twisting in agony as his body vainly sought relief from the torment he had demanded. Certainly, his son was unaware of what he had done. How then to use this development to advantage? "This is interesting, Nicholas," he remarked casually. "It appears your little mortal friend is not quite dead. Indeed, I believe she is halfway across already." He made several chiding sounds. "Careless, Nicholas. That was very careless of you." He waited for the words to register. Given his son's present distracted condition, he knew that would take a few moments. "What? Nat? What?" Nick struggled to turn around, to face Natalie, to see what LaCroix was talking about. To his horror, his master/father was holding Natalie in his arms, a smug expression on his face. "You gave her your blood, Nicholas. You've changed her. Not enough to bring her across totally, but enough to prevent her mortal death. She could linger like this in a coma for decades, I believe. Such a waste." He paused, lightly caressing her face. "Perhaps I should finish what you've started?" Nick began to claw futilely at the stake where it protruded from his midsection. "Leave ... her!" he ordered/pleaded. "That is most unreasonable of you, Nicholas. Because of you, I have lost the company of my dearest Janette, and now you seek to remove your own companionship as well. The least you can do is acknowledge my right to seek another companion. I had not considered your little friend before this, but she does know about our kind, and she seemed willing enough to join us." "No!" Nick tried to crawl toward the pair of them, trailing blood in his wake. "Won't ... let ... you... Must ... stop." "You are in no condition to stop me, Nicholas, and you know it." Why don't you get on with your dying and leave me to deal with her." The elder vamped out and bit into his wrist. "No!" LaCroix looked up with glowing eyes and blood on his lips. "Really Nicholas, must you be so tedious?" He turned his attention back to the woman lying before him. "No! Changed ... my ... mind ..." Nick gasped out the words, before a coughing spasm took him and he curled up again, writhing in pain. "Pull ... out." LaCroix gently laid Natalie aside as he rose to his feet and returned to his son's side. "Are you sure that's what you want?" "Yes. Please." "And there will be no more of this nonsense about faith and death and suicide?" "No." "And what about your coroner friend?" "I'll ... do it. Bring ... across." Tears were trickling down Nick's face again and LaCroix guessed that they were not merely the result of the pain. It was that idiotic "noble" streak again. Since Nicholas had done this to her, he had to make it right. Or as right as it ever could be. LaCroix repressed a smile. All had gone as he anticipated. Though he knew it might be centuries before his son forgave him for putting him through this. But Nicholas would be alive. And the rest could be endured. He had endured his son's hatred before. Better that than endure his eternal absence. This time, LaCroix positioned his foot against his son's bloodied back, for leverage. He grasped the stake with both hands and pulled steadily, ignoring the tortured cries and howls his action evoked. He was drenched in blood sweat when he finally succeeded in pulling the stake completely clear. With a look of revulsion, he tossed the thing into a corner. He bit into his own wrist, enlarging the cut previously made there, and dripped the welling blood into the great gaping wound in his son's torso to speed the healing process. But it wouldn't be enough. He swiftly downed the six bottles of cow blood he found in Nick's refrigerator, grimacing at the taste. Cow blood would never do for Nicholas in his present state, and the only immediately available blood source was himself. He needed blood to replenish his own, so he could feed his own to his son. Cow blood was inadequate, but he would have to make do. He let Nicholas feed until he started to feel woozy, then opened the stored vat of cow blood that was still fortunately half full, and drank again. He repeated the process until his son's wounds were well on the way to healing. "Feeling better?" he finally queried, eyes averted. He did not want to look upon the condemnation he was certain he would find in his son's face. "Well enough," came the quiet reply. "I have to help Natalie." "Feed her your blood," LaCroix reminded him. "It shouldn't take much; she's halfway across already, as I said." Nick opened his wrist and dribbled blood into her mouth. He raised her head and massaged her chin until she swallowed. "Enough?" LaCroix nodded. "That should be sufficient, yes." He walked over and checked the blinds. "Two hours to sunset, and then we shall be on our way. You may want to pack a few things." "Nat goes with us," Nick said flatly. LaCroix nodded. "I never doubted that for a moment. You intend to handle her training?" Nick winced. "I'd like to - but I've never been very good at it. I would appreciate your help, LaCroix." His master looked at him in surprise. "I should be delighted." "This is for Natalie's sake," Nick said coldly, his anger visible. LaCroix nodded, hiding his hurt. After all, he had expected this. "Of course." Nick evidently sensed his pain anyway. "I know why you did what you did," Nick added softly. "I can't forgive you - but I understand." A soft groan forestalled any reply LaCroix might have made. Instantly, Nick was at Nat's side. "Nat? Nat? Talk to me. It's Nick." Natalie groaned and tried to sit up. Suddenly she gasped, her hands flying to her throat. Confused, disoriented, she stared at the two vampires. Guilt stabbed at Nick, sharp as the recently embedded stake. "I'm hungry," she said, in a puzzled tone, as if trying to analyze the strangeness she felt. "I know." Nick handed her a bottle. "I'm so sorry, Nat. So sorry." Realization dawned. "You brought me across." Hungrily, she gulped down the cow's blood. It didn't begin to satisfy her hunger. Nick glanced at LaCroix, who merely raised an eyebrow. Clearly, he was leaving the matter to Nick to explain, however he wished. "Yes. It didn't work. I took too much, Nat, I couldn't stop myself. I'm so sor--" "Shhh." Nat smiled at him. "It's all right, Nick. I told you. As long as we're together." Nick smiled in heartfelt relief. She was still *his* Nat. She hadn't changed, not like the others. That had been his greatest fear. "We will be, Nat. Forever. I promise." LaCroix claimed her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. "Welcome to the family, my dear." Nat eyed him warily and snatched back her hand as soon as he released it. "Thanks. I think. What are you doing here, LaCroix?" "I came to collect Nicholas. But it seems I shall be collecting you as well. We leave Toronto tonight." She digested that, nodded assent. "This poses no particular problems for you?" the ancient vampire probed. "I kind of expected it. I arranged earlier today? yesterday? for a six month leave of absence. I packed up my things before coming over here." LaCroix smiled approvingly. "Well done, Doctor. Your friend has intelligence, Nicholas. I approve." "I'm so glad," Nick said acerbically. Nat looked at them, puzzled. It was obvious that there was some new tension between them. Was she the cause? "Nicholas and I had a slight disagreement earlier today," LaCroix answered her unspoken thought, startling her. "But it had nothing to do with you, my dear." "No," Nick hastened to agree, confirming the lie. Now that the deed was done, he wanted nothing more than to forget how he had fought against it. He might not be ready to forgive LaCroix, but he was grateful to him nonetheless. LaCroix had given them another chance. An opportunity Nick silently vowed would not be wasted. The end.