From hawksrdg@PACBELL.NETThu Dec 12 15:52:29 1996 Date: Mon, 2 Dec 1996 16:29:01 -0800 From: Cat MacLean To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: What Goes Around (01/7) WHAT GOES AROUND Disclaimers: The standard disclaimers apply with regard to Nick and Company. Also disclaimers apply to the owners of the song interwoven throughout this story. Author's Note: This story takes place directly (as in moments) after 'Voice of the Raven' which appeared on this list recently. For those who would like to start from the beginning of this 4 part series, it goes 1)Can't Forget You 2)Voice of the Raven 3)What Goes Around and (coming soon on this same station) 4)Remember Me With Love. Parts 1 and portions of 2 are available at the fan fiction site or you can e-mail me for missed segments. The rating of this story is probably a PG-13 for language and suggestion. I, myself, am a firm believer in using one's imagination to the fullest extent and that a little inuendo goes a long way in furthering a story line...therefore, you will find no graphic or explicit scenes (but, still a lot of fun!). Enjoy... WHAT GOES AROUND (01/7) Once outside the Raven, Natalie stopped, frozen, unable to take the next and final step...away from Nick...away from her dreams of them together. She stood for a moment breathing in the cold night air, trying to clear her head. Vachon slipped his arm around his companions's waist. The night was chilly and she was hurting, but if he thought the gesture would pass as being merely comforting, he was wrong. As his cold hand moved across the rich silk of her blouse, Natalie shivered in involuntary response. But, instead of moving away from him, she pressed even closer and wrapped both arms tightly around a very surprised yet pleased Vachon. "Thanks for getting me out of there." Natalie hugged him and then impulsively laid her head against his chest. She felt the rough leather of his motorcycle jacket under her cheek. There was an erratic flutter of a heartbeat, then another. She felt his cool hands on her shoulders, sliding through her hair, as Vachon took her embrace for invitation. Her face tilted up to his. Black/gold eyes met hazel ones; a thousand words were not spoken as a fountain of feelings poured forth. "Kiss me, Javier. Hard." Vachon didn't need to be told twice. The words were whispered, echoing in his mind; he didn't know if he'd only imagined them or not, but her wish was his command. But, he didn't want to push, did she even know what she'd said? At first his touch was tentative, his lips softly caressing, testing her will, his hands stilled. Natalie ran her sharp nails up and down the length of his spine and her lips curved under his as she smiled at his startled response. "I _said_, kiss me hard." Her need to be close to someone, be needed by someone drove her outside herself. Rational thought fled, replaced by action. There was an undercurrent of violence and desperation in her act. Was she drunk? Was he? Yes, maybe a little to both questions. Vachon didn't know how much wine Natalie had had at the Raven; he really didn't care. However, much it was, it had apparently been just enough. As to being drunk, himself, her scent alone intoxicated him and he could feel the human blood he'd drunk, hot and heavy, coursing through him. He'd meant what he'd said at the Raven; Knight was a fool. As Natalie's roaming touch warmed him, Vachon let himself drift along with her, let her draw him to her. She was like a living flame in his arms; he pushed thoughts of another away, firmly, refusing to acknowledge the persistence presence of 'her'. His lips wandered, he kissed her closed eyes, felt her life's blood pulsing in the soft hollow of her throat. He returned at last to the honey of her mouth. He could taste the wine, feel the heat of her. She was sweet, so sweet, warm, willing. Her lips parted eagerly under his insistent pressure, her fever hot tongue darting quickly into his mouth, tracing his lips, lightly teasing his emerging fangs. Natalie sighed in mounting passion and drew him to her, needing him, wanting him. Vachon could feel his blood rising to meet hers, couuld feel the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, taking in his own scent of musk and leather as he relished hers of roses. And Knight would turn his back on this woman, on all that she had offered him. All that she was offering Vachon, now, in his place. As that realization set in, that he was only fillng a void, a place that was not his, Vachon gently set Natalie from him, questions and hurt in his eyes. "I'm just a substitute, aren't I?" His eyes shone golden, but his voice was soft with sorrow for them both. How easy it was to recognize Natalie's actions when he was guilty of the same. "No." Natalie couldn't meet his eyes; he knew the truth, forcing her to admit it to herself. "Maybe. I'm sorry." She shook her head in denial, now she was the fool. She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks. Was it from his kisses or from her own shameful behaviour? "I'm sorry, Vachon." She tried to disengage herself from him, guilt consuming her. She was betraying his friendship, using him. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Vachon. You don't deserve to be treated that way." "Neither do you, Natalie. Neither do you." Vachon refused to let her slip out of his arms. Before he had come to know Tracy Vetter, he'd always wondered why Knight was so fascinated with this mortal woman. He'd tried to discover the mysterious element that seemed to draw the other vampire to her. In his deepest, secret heart Vachon didn't think even Knight knew exactly why Natalie was so intriguing. Was it her spirit, her passion, her innate humanity? Vachon didn't know why, but he admitted to his secret heart that he'd wanted to know her for himself, wanted her in his own arms, had wanted her there for a long, long time. And, now, tonight, she was, thanks to LaCroix's bullying and Knight's outdated sense of honor. But, did she know what she really wanted? did he? Did it matter, to either of them? They were here, in the night with time standing still around them, waiting for the inevitable to take place. "I said it before and I'll say it again; Knight's a fool." He breathed the words into her hair. Vachon held her firmly in his grasp, she smouldered in his arms, still hot from her wanting and his. "Don't, Vachon. Just don't...I can't stand it if you feel sorry for me, if you're doing 'this' because you pity me." Natalie ducked her head, avoiding his gaze, as she felt scalding tears come to her eyes. His caring and compassion was more than she could bear. Pity from him would be the final humilation. Carefully, slowly, Vachon tipped her chin upwards, not taking no for an answer. Did he offer only comfort? No, he offered much more. "Pity has nothing to do with this. You should know me better than that. What I do, I do because it pleases me. And, this pleases me very much, Natalie." He had to know her, hold her, love her. Once again her lips were insistently captured by his. Icy flames raced through her at his touch and she shuddered in response, surprised and frightened by the stirrings within herself. She struggled in his arms, then, realizing that if she truly tried to free herself she could, and freed by the knowledge itself, relaxed into him. Encouraged by her acceptance of him, Vachon wrapped his hands in the heavy, fragrant mass of her hair and pulled her ever closer. Natalie bent under the onslaught of feeling pulsing in waves through her and returned his kisses. Suddenly, Natalie pulled free of Vachon and took a deep, ragged breath. He looked down to see tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, misery flooding her eyes. In wonderment, he touched her face, then raising his fingers to his lips, tasted the salty tears. They were hot, honeyed, like her. There was such a look of naked need, pain and anguish in her soulful eyes that his own immortal heart ached for her. As she began to sob brokenly, her last vestige of control fleeing, Vachon gathered her to him, smoothing her hair as he would a child's, making soothing noises, whispering into her hair. "SShhh, it's OK...ssshhhh. Don't cry, please don't cry." He couldn't calm her, her heartache broke forth anew as a mad torrent of confusion and self-pity washed over her. Natalie found that she couldn't think, couldn't speak, all she _could_ do was feel. She clung to him blindly in her need, her body shaking wildly against him. Not knowing what else to do, but knowing that a common street corner was no place for either of them, Vachon lifted Natalie easily into his arms and took to the crystal night sky. to be continued...comments, etc. to: WHAT GOES AROUND (02/7) (See disclaimers and notes in part 1.) Nick stepped through the double doors of the Raven and out into the night with a heavy heart and soul. He looked up into the sky, seeking answers from the infinite even though he knew there would be none. There would be no simple answer to the tangled web of lies and truths that been woven about Natalie and himself tonight. And who had been the master weaver; LaCroix, Nick himself or the past that never released either of them? The night was black, overcast and shadowed. That was just fine with him. The empty hollowness of the sky fit well with his mood; with the shadows on his own soul, the weariness that cut to the very center of his being. He stood frozen in place, faced with indecision, not knowing that only moments before Natalie had stood on the same ground and faced her own demons. Unbidden, the words came to his mind. Was it his time to go? No, he wouldn't run from tonight, run from Natalie, run from himself. Nick had retrieved his discarded jacket from LaCroix's quarters and now slung it over his shoulder, disdaining to wear it against the chill of the night. He felt that he didn't deserve even that small comfort; he needed to suffer for his sins. This was his penance for the evil of his actions. For his betrayal. Had it been a sin? Had it been an evil thing to save Catherine's life? Had that one action of bringing her across to his eternity damned him even more than he already was? No, it had been a redemption of a sort; it wasn't often that what he was could be the salvation of another being. But, it had been a betrayal of Natalie's trust in him; in her eyes he had fallen from grace. He had done what he'd been called to do. He had had no choice. His regrets, the source of his guilt was that not only had LaCroix manipulated him into bringing Catherine across, serving his own unknown agenda, but that Natalie had been caught in the crossfire of ancient battles and wills. He would have tried to explain had she given him the opportunity, but Natalie had firmly closed the door on that possibilty when she walked away from him without so much as a backward glance for the broken man she had left behind. _Could_ he have been able to make her understand, given that she had been willing to listen? Probably not. How could Natalie be expected to understand the fulfillment of a debt of honor that had been extracted from him more than 700 years before she had even been born? How could she relate to a code of honor that had sustained him through the centuries? There was so little of his past that was worth remembering, worth saving; he clung to his knight's honor as a drowning man. That was a part of him she could not comprehend. Nick stood, silently reliving the evening, images of Natalie and Catherine floating through his mind, ignoring the bass rumble of the music filtering from the Raven, throbbing in his blood. He grimaced in self loathing at the same moment that he recalled the savour of human blood on his tongue. That was another fall from grace He consumed human blood tonight to Natalie's embarassment and disgust. That was the crux of it, wasn't it? He disgusted her. How could he hope to preserve and nourish his love for Natalie when his very existence was repugnant to her? How could she tolerate him, be near him, love him? And, yet she vowed that she did love him. He shook his head in denial. It was impossible; Natalie didn't love him; she was mistaken. Compared to the eternity of his miserable life, Natalie had lived only a short span of years; she was too young to know her own mind. Too naive to consider what she was consigning herself to by loving him. At times it seemed he hardly knew what he wanted, either. LaCroix persisted in asking him, why he desired that elusive grail, mortality. And, there was only one answer in his heart, Natalie. He loved her to the exclusion of all else, but was he willing, capable of actually _loving_ her? Where she was concerned, his control was precarious at best. With the intensity of his deepening feelings for her, his vampire rose to do battle eagerly. He knew there would be no answer. Heaven and God held no compassion for a creature such as he. Nick was torn between his own unnatural needs and Natlie's mortal ones. Was there a common ground? Would they ever find it? Did it matter anymore, now that she surely hated him? So thinking, Nick resolved to disregard the haunting compulsion to go after her to try to make amends. She didn't need him, didn't deserve the suffering he brought her. He'd told her she would hear only truth from him from now on, but, the truth he had to tell her would only bring her more pain. She was best left to her own ends; if she could find her way without him, she could only be better off. Vachon would see her safely home, Nick was certain of that, or he would not have let her leave the club without him, no matter Natalie's own wishes or the consequences. Shaking himself out of his reverie of guilt and remorse, Nick turned his steps towards home. He would see Natalie another day, when he could repress his own desires for her and have only her welfare at heart. Then he would make her see that there was no future for them, no matter how hard they tried to make it so. He would only bring her more pain, out of his own despicable weakness. But, tonight, he would leave matters as they lay... to be continued...comments, etc. to: -- Cat MacLean hawksrdg@pacbell.net **************************************************** *N&N Packer with Shades of Grey/Closet Vaquera * *2nd Cousin of the Knight/Lonely Hearts Sympathizer* *Writing Is Easy, Just Stare at a Terminal Until * * Drops of Blood Form on Your Forehead * **************************************************** From hawksrdg@PACBELL.NETThu Dec 12 15:51:33 1996 Date: Wed, 4 Dec 1996 16:10:49 -0800 From: Cat MacLean To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: What Goes Around (03/7) Here's a segment that should get all those Lonely Hearts beating. ;) N&N Packers, please bear with me for a while. WHAT GOES AROUND (03/7) (See disclaimers and notes in part 1.) *What goes around comes around *You got to stand your ground *Be careful what you say or do *Whatever goes around comes around *No matter what road you take *Whatever goes around comes around *Don't you understimate this girl *You will only fool yourself *Are we gonna live with this when there's so much at stake "Natalie, do you have your keys?" She was floating high above the earth, weightless, free of all her problems, safe from decisions. The clouds and stars were her companions, the night wind her breath. "Natalie, you don't want me to break your door in, do you?" That velvet voice again, insistently invading her warm and snug cocoon of illusion. Abruptly, she came to herself, came rudely back to reality and realized where she was. She wasn't drifting pleasantly along in the sky, either. Where she was, was about four feet off the floor, in Vachon's strong embrace. "Put me down!" She squirmed in a vain attempt to break free and then quieted as she came fully aware of herself. "I mean, please, Vachon, you can put me down, now." She was embarrassed beyond comprehension. Looking into his dark eyes, she saw the reflection of the evening. First she had made a fool of herself at the Raven, then had complicated matters by falling apart in front of Vachon. Natalie blushed hotly in memory; that wasn't all she had done in front of Vachon. He was still holding her, easily, smiling lazily down at her. "Vachon, put me down." "I don't think I want to." Vachon just kept smiling that exasperatingly charming smile of his and continued to stand outside her apartment door with her in his arms like some outsized package to be delivered. "If you'll just unlock the door, we won't have to stay out here in the hall until your neighbors see us. Unless, of course, you don't mind..." His let his words trail off, seemingly vastly amused by her. Her neighbors had strange enough suspicions about her and the company she kept as it was. "All right, all right. Give me a minute." Hurridly, she rummaged in her evening bag for the keys. Vachon waited patiently as she searched, still holding her effortlessly and smiling that damn smile of his. Natalie held the elusive key aloft in triumph and then realized he wasn't going to put her on her feet and that she was going to have to open the door from mid-air. Stretching, she found that she could just barely reach the locks. Quickly she inserted the key, twisted it, pushed, and let the door swing open into her darkened apartment. "Now will you put me down?" "Nope. I said I'd take you home, and that's exactly what I intend to do." Natalie smiled in spite of or perhaps because of the absurdity of the situation. "Ok, fine. Suit yourself." Natalie clutched at her purse to keep it from slipping to the floor and sat up as best she could to avoid hitting her head on the door frame. Vachon stepped carefully through the doorway with his passenger, lightly kicking the door closed behind him. The interior of the room was pitch black; Natalie couldn't see her hand in front of her face, but he walked unconcernedly, deftly avoiding furniture and a suddenly present and vocal Sidney twining around his feet, to deposit Natalie on the overstuffed couch. "How's that?" "Fine." Natalie fussed with a pillow to hide her sudden unease. "Just fine, thanks." She didn't mean just the couch; somehow she needed to let Vachon know what his presence meant to her, exactly how much his friendship meant to her at this moment. She struggled to put her feelings into her words. "Really, it's fine now, Vachon. Thank you for..." "It's black as a thief's heart in here. Fine for me, but I'll bet you can't see a thing." Vachon laughed lightly as he crossed to Natalie's tiny dining table, swept up the two candlesticks in the center and brought them to her. She reached into the endtable drawer, withdrew a matchbook and swiftly lit the candles. The room was immediately suffused in waves of gently dancing light; the two of them were enveloped in a small halo of intimate warmth. Vachon sat down next to her on the couch, closely, too closely and took both her hands in his, forestalling her next words. "You were calling me Javier, before... Natalie." His voice made a song of her name, low and vibrant. He searched her clear hazel eyes looking for the woman who had responded to him so passionately. She was still there, hiding behind a facade of shoulds and shouldn'ts. Again, he determinedly pushed the vision of a certain blond smile to the back of his mind; if he didn't explore his desires now, he would never have another chance and he would always wonder, never be sure, never be certain that he could give his love without division, without question. "It was nice, Natalie, very nice, in fact." Again, that slow, devasting smile reached out to her. There was sadness in her expression, the words came slowly, quietly. "I'm sorry, Vach...Javier. What happened at the Raven must have upset me more than I knew." "I'm sorry, really sorry." He just sat there, holding her hands, rubbing his thumbs sensuously over and over the pulse points of her wrists. Natalie tried to rise from the couch, to escape the intense scrutiny of those fathomless eyes, to escape her own rising emotions. Vachon didn't release her, but only gripped her fingers tightly and forced her to look at him. "I'm not. Not sorry about what happened between us, that is." He turned her hands in his and dropped small kisses on her sensitive palms. Her fingers spasmed in response, she breathed more quickly, fighting to keep her eyes on his. "I've got a secret to tell you, Natalie. I'm glad this happened; I've wanted it to happen...for a long time." The way he said her name was captivating; she'd never much cared for her name, but when he spoke it, he wrapped the sound in velvet. "Vachon, let me go. It shouldn't have happened." He had to let her go, for her sake, but she had no will to pull free. "Didn't you say you were 'through with shouldn'ts', Natalie?" He still didn't release her, the cold of his touch seeped into her sending shockwaves through her blood, to her brain, to her heart. She had no answer for him, but he didn't need her to answer. He knew her thoughts, he had felt them in the merging of their souls, in the depths of her kisses. She wanted, she craved, she feared. "You love him, don't you?" It had to be said, to be released into the air between them and then to be dismissed, not allowed to interfere. The question was a dagger to her heart, but the truth was inescapable. She couldn't deny it, but didn't comprehend why she felt the way she did. "Why do you ask me that? Yes...I can't even tell you why at this exact moment, but yes, I do love him...still...the bastard." A small spark of the realist that she was emerged; she could almost laugh at herself for being such an idiot, the way a man blinded by his own recklessness and conceit stumbles unaware into quicksand and laughs at his own folly even as he spends his last breath. "Even after tonight, when he made love to another woman?" Vachons words dropped into the air between them with the venom of a striking viper. He had to make sure that there was no pretense in either of them; if it happened it had be entered into with eyes open, conscious of decisions and outcomes. Natalie jerked her hands from his grasp in anger, strong and swift. "Stop it, Vachon. I never knew you could be so cruel. Oh, the hell I didn't; cruelty is inherent in _all_ of you, isn't it? We mortals are just mere playthings to you, aren't we? Just a brief amusement for you in your endless eternity. Why the hell do you all even bother with us? You don't give a damn about anyone but yourselves. You don't care who you hurt." Vachon looked at her out of ancient eyes, she was so young, so very young. It _was_ her passion that drew him, such passion in a mortal, passion that would burn out all too soon in a few short decades. "It's not cruelty, Natalie, it's reality. That's all. We _are_ immortal and we _don't_ usually 'bother' with mortals. It's too painful...to be the one always left behind." Vachon reached out to her and captured her hands once again, trying to make his point, make her see herself how he saw her. "You're special, different, Natalie. I tried not to see it, I'll bet Knight tried not to see it either, but I can't help it; you are who you are. I could never hurt you." "And just who is that, Vachon? What is that? No matter how 'special' I am, I'm still _just_ a mortal, so different from you and that's the sad truth." "No, Natalie, the truth of the matter is that you either learn to deal with the realities of life, immortal _or_ mortal, or you let them crush you. You're too strong to let life wear you down, too alive." Was it that vibrancy of spirit what he craved, just to be near it would revive him, give him a taste of the vitality he'd once possessed as a young man, a young mortal, even as a young vampire. He sometimes felt the ages bearing down on him with a vengenance; he was adrift, lost and searching. And, now he'd found...just what he was not sure, but it entranced him. She was the beacon calling to him in his shadowed existence. "I thought I was strong, Vachon, but now I just don't know." Natalie couldn't sit still any longer, she had to get up, get moving, do something, anything. The longer she sat, mesmerized, under Vachon's spell, the worse the eventual awakening would be. She jumped to her feet and began to pace back and forth under Vachon's gaze. She was at war with herself, with her own feelings and thoughts, with her past and her present. Natalie faced the window and drew the heavy draperies away; the fabric was rich and textured under her fingers, distracting her for a moment. A pale sliver of moonlight was trying to free itself from a shroud of clouds. She knew just how the moon felt. Resting her forehead on the cool glass of the window panes, Natalie drew a shuddering breath and let her feelings come. "You know, Vachon, once I thought it would be the most horrifying experience of my life to become a vampire, to be brought across. To become a, what do they say, 'blood sucking creature of the night?' And, then I thought it would be the most exhilerating thing I could have happen to me, the most wonderful moment of my life, that it would somehow set me free. And now... now I'm just confused as hell." She let the drapes fall back into place, would she could make her life fall back into place as easily. "Answer me a question, Natalie." Vachon hadn't moved from his place on the couch as if he knew that to pursue her would drive her farther into herself. "Why did the thought of coming across horrify you? What terrified you the most?" He had to know, dreaded the knowing. "I think, it was the callousness of your existence. Killing to survive, killing for pleasure, just the killing, I guess." She whirled to face him, to face the truth, making a stand against him, against what she felt for him. She fairly spat the words at him. "I'm a doctor, Vachon. I took an oath that was pretty important to me, and the first part of it says that I swear to do no harm. No harm. My God, there would be nothing but harm. There would be nothing but death and I would be the killer. I would be a killer..." The last came as a whisper, a whisper of fear in the dim room. "Natalie, no. You wouldn't _have_ to kill to survive. Nick doesn't...anymore...I don't unless I have to." He hated to see her do this to herself. She was so strong, so beautiful in her zeal for life that it tore at him to see her suffer at her own hands. "God, Vachon, don't tell me that. I don't want to know." She held out her hands in front of her to ward off his words, to keep that awful knowledge from taking root in her mind. "But, even if I didn't kill, it would be the knowing that I could, that it would be an acceptable part of my nature as a vampire, that it would be _normal_ that would tear me up inside." Vachon leaned back against the cushions of the couch. He wanted to go to her, he couldn't go to her. She needed this self realization, it was a catharsis for her, a purging of her doubts; the watching of her fascinated him. "You changed your mind, Natalie. What happened?" "Nick. You knew the answer to that one, Vachon. Damnit, I love him and once I thought I'd do _anything_ to make him love me. To make him stay with me. Even become a vampire. I couldn't stand the thought of him leaving me. You know what I did, don't you? I was so completely wrong." "You know that he loves you, Natalie, in his own way." Even as he spoke the words Vachon feared her reaction, but the truth was there for them both to see and could not be denied, even if it cost him dearly. Knight and Natalie were as doomed as Vachon and Tracy; their very differences pushed them apart, denied them the coming together that they craved. Or did they crave the forbidden fruit, was the wanting more pleasureable than the having? And, were any of them brave enough to find out? "Know that for a fact, do you, Vachon? Even if he does, 'in his own way', he has a _fine_ way of showing it, doesn't he? A damn fine way..." Natalie couldn't hide the bitterness of her words, couldn't hide the pain from Vachon or from herself. "Natalie, what do you want? What do you want from Knight, from life, from the future?" Vachon rose and came to stand before her, forcing himself not to touch her. She was so vulnerable, so fragile that she would shatter at his touch; she was standing on the brink. "What do you want from the present...what do you want from me?" to be continued...comments, etc. to: -- Cat MacLean hawksrdg@pacbell.net **************************************************** *N&N Packer with Shades of Grey/Closet Vaquera * *2nd Cousin of the Knight/Lonely Hearts Sympathizer* *Writing Is Easy, Just Stare at a Terminal Until * * Drops of Blood Form on Your Forehead * **************************************************** From hawksrdg@PACBELL.NETThu Dec 12 15:51:37 1996 Date: Thu, 5 Dec 1996 10:11:30 -0800 From: Cat MacLean To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: What Goes Around (04/7) WHAT GOES AROUND (04/7) (See disclaimers and notes in part 1.) Natalie couldn't heed her own inner commands. The tears came freely, quietly and all the more tragic for their silence. Her face was a mask of sorrow, her clear eyes full of pain. Her words came softly, coming from her heart for the first time into the light of day. "What do I want from Nick? I'm not sure anymore; yes, I love him, but I feel like I can never catch up. I mean, every time I think that he's let me in, that I might come to understand what it is that makes him tick, I get a great big nasty surprise." She took a deep, shaking breath, steadied her nerves and forced herself to go on; forced herself to admit the truth. "Like tonight. Look what he did to me _tonight_, Javier. Why? Why?" She began to sob in earnest now. She focused on Vachon's face, saw the compassion there and anchored herself to his soul. "I'm just tired, Javier, tired of trying. Tired of being the only one who's trying." Natalie was realizing the truth of her words as she spoke. Never before had she been able to put her feelings into words; she'd been afraid to. Afraid that admitting to her frustration would make it all the more real. She was breaking his heart, he was suffering for her, his own throat ached with tears he could not shed. "Natalie, stop. Don't torture yourself." He was reaching for her, willing her to come to him in her pain. "Natalie, it's OK, just let me hold you for a while. You said you needed a friend; well, here I am." She stepped into his beckoning arms and Vachon held her tightly in response to her need, trying to protect her from her own truth. She seemed to gather strength from him. She couldn't have stopped the flow of words now to save her life. "What do I want from life, Vachon? Oh, God! What does anybody want, Vachon? I want to live it! I want to be a part of it, not sit by and watch it pass. I don't want to be alone anymore, I can't be..." It was too much; she couldn't bear it; the weight of six years of hope, desperation, yearning and disappointment bore down on her. She bit her lower lip fiercly, trying to deny herself the cleansing release of tears. She felt his hands, soothing, touching, strong hands that made her feel safe. "I'm sorry, Vachon, so sorry...about everything." Natalie slid her arms around his waist and once again laid her head on his chest. "I shouldn't be taking all this out on you. All you agreed to do was bring me home." She looked up at him and tried to smile, but there was only weariness in her eyes. It felt so good, so right, so secure in his arms, a refuge, a coming home. "Natalie, I'm here for you. _I'm_ here. Do you know what I'm saying to you?" He tipped her face up to his and kissed her softly, once, at the corner of her mouth. She stared into the black depths of his eyes, confused for a moment, then as understanding dawned, her eyes widened and she stiffened in his arms. "No. We shouldn't..." But, the urges were strong and growing, oh, to be loved, desired, wanted by someone, someone unafraid to hold her, kiss her. "Say my name, Natalie, say it. I want you to know that _I_ am here for you, now, tonight." Vachon held her close and murmured into her fragrant hair. He moved the heavy mass of curls to one side and planted icy kisses on her neck. His voice was mesmerizing, calming and at the same time exciting. His touch sent sparks flying through her blood. "I don't want to hear any more about should and shouldn'ts from you. Not what anyone else wants, or wants from you. What do _you_ want, Natalie? " Natalie was finding it hard to concentrate; her blood was pulsing faster and faster, her thoughts beginning to fracture and fall away. "I guess...I just want to make my own decisions. I want my life back, Javier." She let her head fall back against his arm, she was melting, his cold kisses stirred her, inflamed her, yet she had to speak. "I feel like it's been...taken away from me...and I can't even remember how...I let it slip...away." The words came slower as her body responded to his caresses, to his caring. "Then take it back, Natalie." He kissed her forehead, then her closed eyes. "Be strong." A feather light touch of his lips on her own. And another. "Stand up for yourself and what you want, what you deserve." Natalie opened her eyes and let him into the sorrow of her soul. "Let me give you what you want, Natalie. Let me love you. We can be strong together." This was a chance to make her own path, choose her own way. She smiled grimly to herself. Lightly, as if not trusting herself, she laid her palm against the stubble of his cheek. Her fingers slipped slowly through the unruly strands of his hair; she gave her consent with her touch, her heart was in her eyes. Suddenly, thought shot through her like a bolt of lightning. "Tracy." "Where?" Almost against his will, a tiny smile twitched at the corner of Vachon's mouth. "No, not here." Natalie gestured to the darkened room. "Isn't Tracy in here?" Lightly, she placed her hand on his heart. The question was, could they be alone in this room, in this moment or were there two others in the room with them? Vachon looked down at her with saddened eyes; ten lifetimes of lost chances in the ebony depths. 'In a way, Natalie. She's in my heart the same way that Knight is in yours." Gently, Vachon returned the gesture; he felt the firestorm of her heartbeat under his fingers. "And that's all they can be to us, Natalie. A heart dream, a hope, a fantasy that may or may not ever come to be." She bowed her head as hot tears threatened once again. Vachon was right; her dreams of a future with Nick may be only that, dreams. "Look at me, Natalie." She obeyed, hesitantly, not daring to see what she knew she would see in his eyes. "But, this...this is real, Natalie. I'm real, you're real. We are here together, in this moment, just for this moment, for each other. No one else exists for us, not now." Once more, Vachon kissed her. His chilled lips caused fire to race through her veins. She found herself being swept away again, she could feel her heart begin to race, his hand still covering it, taking the heat of her into himself and returning it one hundred fold. His hands ran lightly and then more surely over her body, making her his own. Of their own volition, her hands pushed at his heavy jacket, her fingers slipped away the buttons of his shirt and caressed the smooth muscles of his chest. His kisses traveled to her throat, her shoulders, lightly, sharp fangs traced a path of fire. The silk of her blouse whispered as it slipped away from her body. They stood, two, merging into one, touching, seeking, finding, hungering each for the other. "Natalie. Look at me." His voice was rough, his tone commanding. She looked him full in the face and saw the vampire looking back at her. She tensed, hesitated and tried to draw back, fright vieing with her rising passion. "I want to love you, Natalie...all of you." He saw the fear, felt her recoil ever so slightly from him. "I can take just a taste, but if you'd rather I didn't..." He spoke carefully around his fully extended fangs, letting her see all that he was, all that he offered, fearing her reaction. If she accepted him, he wanted to to take all of him, with no pretense, as he accepted her. "You can control it?" There was bewilderment in her voice, a thousand questions in her eyes. "How?" She wanted to know, _had_ to know. "When you acknowledge something, something that you are, the person that you are, then you can control it; the beast within no longer controls you." He licked his lips, his tongue running sensously over his prominent fangs. "I like being a vampire, Natalie. I enjoy the power, I embrace it." He kissed her again, his fangs drawing just a drop of blood as they grazed her tender flesh. "Taste your own blood, Natalie, taste the power in you." So saying, he ravaged her mouth with his, taking her with him on the waves of savage glory her blood released in him. She was terrified, she was delerious, she was dying from the pleasure he wrought in her mind, in her body, in the very core of her being. She gave herself up to him, opening herself for his taking, releasing her life into his control. And then, she felt herself sinking, slowly, her body falling and found herself sliding to the floor, her bones turned to water unable to support her any longer. His strong arms still held her, his cold hands were everywhere, his amber eyes glowing with a fire she could not refuse. "Nick." She spoke...aloud...not Javier, but Nick was who she wanted, whose touch she craved, whose love she denied by her actions. Her eyes flew open, she saw before her, not the one she loved, but a terrible mistake that had been about to occur; one step and she would have started down into the abyss. "Natalie?" Vachon's voice was ragged with lust, but she could hear the friend speaking within the lover. "It's no good, is it? You can't forget that I'm not him, can you?" And, he admitted that the spectre that haunted his own thoughts had never receded, she was there, waiting patiently for him to choose. "Oh, God, Javier...I'm so..." Tears welled in eyes anew. How close she had come to betraying Vachon, Nick and herself. How close they had both come. Need was a powerful thing; more dangerous a foe than either of them had ever faced before. "Don't say it, Natalie. Don't be sorry. Don't ever be sorry again." The shoulds and shouldn'ts hung between them. But, no longer was the motivation of her refusal in guilt or self-deprivation out of martyrdom, but out of self-realization of what she wanted...her own decision...made for and only by herself. "I don't want to, Javier. It's not what I want." "Now, _I'm_ the sorry one, Natalie." Vachon smiled, his eyes fading back to black, his fangs receding. "It could have been glorious." He kissed her once more, this time in friendship. "Well, I won't say that it's the first time I've been turned down, but there certainly weren't many." The charming Vachon was back again, the lover had been banished, her friend was kneeling in front of her, smiling, if a little sadly. "Thank you for being my friend, Javier. I won't forget it or tonight..." Vachon looked away from her as his own dose of reality hit; he was glad that Natalie had had the strength to deny them both. He'd spoken truly, Tracy _was_ in his heart, more firmly than even he had comprehended until this moment. And, the sorrow was that he'd never told her just how much. "Me either, Natalie...I won't forget...ever..." to be continued...comments, etc to: -- Cat MacLean hawksrdg@pacbell.net **************************************************** *N&N Packer with Shades of Grey/Closet Vaquera * *2nd Cousin of the Knight/Lonely Hearts Sympathizer* *Writing Is Easy, Just Stare at a Terminal Until * * Drops of Blood Form on Your Forehead * **************************************************** From hawksrdg@PACBELL.NETThu Dec 12 15:51:43 1996 Date: Fri, 6 Dec 1996 13:37:44 -0800 From: Cat MacLean To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: What Goes Around (05/7) WHAT GOES AROUND (05/7) (see disclaimers and notes in part 1) "Knight, Vetter, in my office." Captain Joe Reese's voice rang out from his office doorway. Those uniforms and detectives unlucky enough to be within earshot winced at the unusually loud volume. More than a few sympathetic glances were sent towards Nick and Tracy as they started towards the office and the summons. Reese was obviously not having one of his better days and from his strident tone he was about to share the joy. Before either Nick or Tracy were fully in his office, Reese launched into them, never mind offering either of them a seat. "What the hell's going on with the Connoly case? I've got no suspects, no leads, I don't even have a coroner's report yet." To emphasize his words, Reese waved a too thin folder at both of them. "This, this is _all_ I've got to go on. Not enough." Nick glanced quickly at Tracy; it didn't do him any good, she was already looking at him to take the lead. "Well, Captain," Nick began reluctantly. "Save it, Knight. Just you and your partner get moving on this one, will you." Reese shook his head and started pacing in the confines of his office, still clutching the file. Both Nick and Tracy recognized the signs; he was about to get on his 'how can there be such sickos in the world soapbox'. "I've got a woman from a prominent family brutally murdered in her own home and not one damn thing to tell the press. I need _something_ to tell them before they start making up a story on their own." The media was having a heyday; headlines raged. daily condemning Toronto's finest. "We're working on it, Captain," Tracy interjected in the hope of derailing him. Nick shot her a look that plainly said 'you've done it now, Tracy.' "Apparently not hard enough. I need results _now_ or I'm going to have the goddamn commissioner breathing down my neck." Reese slammed the homicide file onto the desk in frustration, sending papers floating to the floor. He stopped suddenly, realizing what he had just said and looked at Tracy to gage her reaction. "No offense, Tracy." "None taken, Cap." Tracy focused her atttention anywhere except on Reese and muttered under her breath, "I know just how you feel." "All right. So, listen up people, this is how it's going to work. Vetter, you go talk to the sister, get another statement, snoop around the house somemore, talk to the domestic help, turn the damn place inside out, discreetly." Reese fixed Tracy and then Nick in turn with a measuring look. "Knight, go get me that coroner's report." "I think Tracy could use some help on this, checking the house..." The last thing Nick wanted tonight was to precipitate a discussion with Natalie that could only be painful for both of them. He knew that it had to be done and the waiting would not make the confrontation any easier. But, it was to preserve her life that he hastened the ruin of his own. Reese shook his head emphatically. "Not on this one. The sister's so hyped up about the possibility that her 'pyscho' brother-in-law killed her sister, she refuses to even have male cops in her house. And with her connections, I can't afford to push the issue. She may even be right, but without anything to go on I'll never know at this rate. So, go see Natalie. _Now_. That's an order. Out. Both of you." Summarily dismissed, Nick and Tracy left Reese's office walking slowly, each to their respective tasks and neither looking forward to the assignments. They both flinched involuntarily as the captain's office door slammed shut behind them. "I hate these things, Nick. Kid gloves, special treatment. I'm not really the 'beating around the bush' kind of person." Tracy reached into her desk drawer, fished out her service revolver and slipped it into her shoulder holster, mechanically checking the chamber as she did, then snapped her jacket decisively over the tell-tale bulge. "Yeah, I've noticed." Nick couldn't help but grin at his partner. Tracy was a lot of things but indirect wasn't one of them; what Tracy thought, Tracy said. "And I don't see you eagerly running off to the morgue, either, partner. What gives?" Tracy returned Nick's flippant attitude. "You and Natalie fighting?" The smile vanished from Nick's face abruptly and he turned away from Tracy, hiding the regret in his eyes. "Gee, I'm sorry, Nick, I was just joking around. You look like you're going to your own funeral." "It's OK, Trace. We just had a little...miscommunication, that's all." Nick quickly placed his own gun in his holster and straightened his jacket, resignation in his countenance. He heaved a mental sigh. "We better get moving. Both of us." "Good luck, Nick." Tracy sketched a sassy salute in his direction and headed for the door. "Yeah, thanks, you too." to be continued...comments, etc to: -- Cat MacLean hawksrdg@pacbell.net **************************************************** *N&N Packer with Shades of Grey/Closet Vaquera * *2nd Cousin of the Knight/Lonely Hearts Sympathizer* *Writing Is Easy, Just Stare at a Terminal Until * * Drops of Blood Form on Your Forehead * **************************************************** From hawksrdg@PACBELL.NETThu Dec 12 15:51:45 1996 Date: Sat, 7 Dec 1996 16:25:16 -0800 From: Cat MacLean To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: What Goes Around (06/7) WHAT GOES AROUND (06/7) (see disclaimers and notes in part 1) *Once again, you got away with it *Are you happy now *Watch your mouth, don't put your foot back in it *Gets back to you somehow *I must say you tell a good story *Of things I know ain't true *You turn around and say you're sorry *With a straight face attitude "If you looking for Mr. Griffith's body, I've told you twice already; I released the body an hour ago and they took it upstairs for pickup. Don't come complaining to me if they lost it in the halls somewhere." Natalie didn't even bother to look up from her work when she heard footsteps behind her, but continued with what she was doing, autopsying the body stretched out in all it's grisly spleandor before her. "Like I said before, 'it's not my department'; you're on your own." "It's me, Nat." Nick spoke quietly from the doorway so as not to startle her. He supressed a small grin of remembrance; she hated it when he snuck up on her and made her jump; that was part of why he ususally did it. With a sudden sinking feeling he realized that their casual comraderie would soon be a thing of the past. Still, Natalie didn't turn around at the sound of his voice, but she tensed, her spine straighted in unconscious defense and her tone became impossibly even colder. "Nick." The sound of his name was flat and dropped hollowly into the cool atmosphere of the morgue. "What do you want?" "Nat, we need to talk." Nick slowly came around the exam table, knowing that this conversation had to begin, dreading what the outcome would be. She wasn't going to make this easy for him, either; he didn't expect her to, didn't deserve it. "No, Nick. No, we don't." She spared him one piercing glance, freezing him in his tracks and daring him to continue. She returned to her work, he was not welcome in her domain, that much was abundantly clear. "There's nothing to talk about." Natalie deftly removed the organ she was probing for and lifted it to the scale driping blood and assorted other liquids. "And, if you haven't noticed, I'm rather busy at the moment." Nick recoiled involuntarily from the bloody and gruesome sight before him. The body on the table was split from thorax to pelvis, ribs cracked for access to the heart, organs protruding from the abdominal cavity, blood covering the steel surface and pooling into the collection tubes at the corners. He felt his heart beat once, then twice, he heard a rush of blood through veins, mortal veins, Natalie's veins, the rythym of her heart, so dear and familiar to him. He took a determined step back, then another, finding himself suddenly fighting to control the vampire within, but not quickly enough to avoid detection. Natalie heard the hissing of his indrawn breath and glancing up at him saw the spark of amber flare in his blue eyes. "Nick. Nick, snap out of it." She wasn't afraid of him, just tired and disappointed. "What's with you?" There was no compassion or understanding, no empathy in her voice, in fact there was no emotion at all. It was if she didn't care. "I'm sorry, Nat. I don't know what came over me all of a sudden." Nick shook his head in bewilderment. "I'm sorry." But, he didn't dare move closer to her, the distance between them wasn't only physical; they were on opposite sides of a widening chasm of doubt and pain. She didn't bother to answer him but continued working, not acknowledging his apology. <"I'll just bet you are. Hah, drink human blood all night and lose your self control. Big surprise.> Natalie delved deeper into the body on the table and deftly removed yet another sample, swinging it into the hanging scale at hand. Nick swallowed convulsively and forced himself to continue. "Nat. I mean it; I _am_ sorry. For last night, what for happened, for what you think happened." "Right. Sure. I _know_ what happened, Nick" "Nat, be fair, I didn't have any choice." Nick spread in hands in entreaty, willing her to be reasonable. If she would only believe him. "How convenient, Nick. That's really one of the best excuses I've ever heard." Natalie snorted softly in derision as she studied him with a dispassionate expression. "But, I'm not interested in any of your explanations. Like I said, I'm busy." She emphasized her words by waving a bloody scapel in his direction and was grimly satisfied to see him take another step away from her. "Nat...don't do that, if you don't mind." Nick felt his vampire beast waiting in the wings, eager to emerge. "Actually, I do mind, Nick. I have lots and lots of work to do and if you don't have anything else to say to me...leave." Sarcasm had always been the one weapon in her arsenal that Nick was unable to fathom. He never quite knew how to defend himself against it; how to make Natalie listen to reason when her emotional walls were so firmly in place. "Ah, yeah, I need the report on Sylvia Connoly." Nick was losing the battle to control the rising urges within himself and knew he couldn't hold it in much longer. "I...uh...need it now, Nat." "It's over there on my desk. Help yourself." Once again Natalie gestured with her gory hand. "I'd get it for you, but..." "That's OK, Nat. Fine, great, I'll just get it and go." Relieved, Nick scooped the needed file from the stack on the desk and beat a hasty retreat to the doors. "But, Nat, we still need to talk...about last night." Natalie smiled a grim smile. She was taking a perverse pleasure in having Nick on the defensive for a change. She really wasn't the kind of person to enjoy watching him squirm, but she just couldn't stop herself. "I have nothing to say to you, Nick." "Nat, please..." Nick sighed and closed his eyes. He wanted to say more, needed to say more, say anything to make her respond to him, but he'd promised to tell only truth and the truth wasn't getting him anywhere. He didn't trust himself to re-enter the room and try to cope with the blood smell that was fogging his brain; he would have to try again, later. Defeated in more ways than one, Nick left. Natalie held her breath, not daring to look up, fearing that if she did, if she saw Nick leaving the room, leaving her, she would call him back. Her shoulders slumped, the breath she been holding whooshed out of her leaving her feeling deflated, suddenly exhausted, as tired as if she hadn't slept at all that day. She found herself laughing silently, ironically, shaking her head at her treatment of Nick and wondering if she'd always had this mean streak. So much in a hurry to quit Natalie's company and the company she was keeping in the morgue, Nick ran, literally, into Carol, the assistant coroner, as he rounded a corner in the hallway. The impact of the collision rocked Carol back on her heels and sent her bundle of files flying. "Jesus, Nick. Where's the fire?" Carol bent down to retrieve the folders that had fallen from her hands and nearly bumped heads with Nick who had knelt on the tile floor to help her. "Sorry, Carol. I wasn't paying much attention, I guess." He gathered up the scattered papers and quickly thrust them into her hands. Nick rose to his feet and offered his hand to her. "That much was obvious." Carol accepted his help and then held onto his hand a bit longer than necessary, giving him a searching look. "Have you been to see Natalie?" Nick grimaced and looked away. "Oh, I see that you have." Carol's voice held amused understanding. "Yeah." "I was hoping that if you dropped in, her mood might improve. She's been a real, well..witch would be the most polite word I could use." "I don't think seeing me is likely to help her mood any, Carol. I'm the one who put her in it." Nick had the grace to look abashed, a slight flush even marred the pallor of his face. "Thanks a lot, Nick." Carol's voice was resigned. "What happened now? I know, it's none of my business, but after what we've been through lately, all of us, I'd hate to see you two at odds again." She flashed a brief smile at him. "Besides, _I_ have to work with her." "We had a misunderstanding." "I'll just bet you did. You two have the damndest knack for being at cross purposes." Carol waved an admonitory finger at Nick and started to lecture him. "You know what the problem is? I'll tell you what the problem it; you're both stubborn. As my grandfather used to say 'mule stubborn'." Carol saw Nick open his mouth to reply, but she held up one hand to stop him. "OK, so it's lost some of it's relevance over time, but the idea is still the same. You two would stand nose to nose, arguing, saying the same thing to each other and never admit that you agree about anything. Much less admit that you love her and she loves you. In my book, nothing else matters." "It's not that simple." "Bull. I've said it to Natalie and I'll say it to you, Detective Knight. Bull. So, whatever it is that you two had a 'misunderstanding' about, it's nothing that can't be worked out if you'll just talk to each other." "She doesn't want to talk to me, Carol. I tried." "Not hard enough." Nick winced; it was the second time in the past half hour that someone had told him that he wasn't trying 'hard enough'. How had he gotten into this tangle and just what did people expect from him? "So, go back in there and _talk_." "Carol..." Nick was going to tell her how useless the attempt would be, how helpless he felt, but Carol never gave his the opening; she was running verbal roughshod over him. "Not another word to me, save it for Natalie. We've had our moments, Nick and no doubt we'll continue to have them, but of all the things I've called you over the past months, 'coward' was never one of them...until now." Carol glared at him, daring him to make a comment. Nick turned abruptly away from her, as much to hide the flaring of amber in his eyes as to obey her. Carol dared a lot, calling him a coward, but it was no more than he'd been naming himself. Without a backward glance at the surprised assistant coroner still standing in the hallway, Nick retraced his footsteps to the morgue, to face his demons and Natalie. "Nat, I can't leave like this" His voice pierced the eerie quiet of the room. "Sure you can, Nick. You can do whatever you want. You proved that last night." "Nat, we need to talk. OK, I need to talk and you need to listen to what I have to say." "Oh, really?" Natalie glared at Nick just once, already discounting anything he might say to her and continued with her autopsy. "Fine, talk." "I want your undivided attention, Nat." Nick slowly approached the bloody autopsy table and gazed fixedly at Natalie from the other side. "Look at me, Nat." He could hear her heartbeat, beating a siren call in his blood. Natalie jerked away from him as if he'd been physically restraining her. "Don't you try that 'whammy' crap on me, Nick." Now she was the one to take a step back from the table. She sighed and then steeled herself for whatever was to come. "Fine, I'll listen. You've got five minutes. Make it good." "Nat, last night was _not_ what I wanted. It was what LaCroix wanted, what Catherine wanted." "But, you did what they wanted, didn't you? LaCroix says jump, you jump. LaCroix says 'bring my girlfriend across', you do it." Her voice dripped sarcasm; you could have etched the metal table with it. "You've got to let me explain. I didn't have any choice in the matter." "You're repeating yourself, Nick." Driven beyond caring about the blood, the body that stood between them, aware of how much more stood between them, Nick quickly rounded the table and took her by the arms. His hands bit into her mortal flesh painfully and she flinched. His flaming gold eyes bored into hers, not allowing her to look away. With a determined set of his shoulders, Nick drew a deep breath and began. "A long time ago, long before I ever met you, Nat, or you were even born, I was a man of honor, of conviction. I tried to live my life by a certain code. A code that was sometimes costly, but was dear to me. On the night that I became a vampire, I made a vow, swore an oath upon that honor. I swore to LaCroix to kill at his command, once, in return for immortality, whenever he demanded the debt be repaid. I was lucky that he didn't ask me to kill Catherine, but only to bring her across. Don't you see that I had _no choice_ but to keep that oath, Nat? I thought that after all this time, he'd forgotten, that he would never redeem that promise I made when I was young and the future was so far away. I should have known better; LaCroix forgets nothing. How like him to wait 800 years later to redeem my promise, when he could hurt as many people as possible by doing it." "So, you made a promise to LaCroix 800 years ago. That was a long, long time ago, Nick. What's it got to do with now?" Her head was high, defiant, she had to stand her ground. "You don't see it, do you, Nat? It has _everything_ to do with now. With _who_ I am, not just _what_ I am. I may be a vampire, but I hope that inside the evil, there is still a man of honor worth saving." Nick released his hold on her arms and cupped her face in both his hands, willing her to understand. "Vachon told me everything that was going on between you and Catherine. You can't deny it. You made love to her. You brought her across." Natalie stood as a statue before him, pain in her eyes and quiet venom in her words. "I _did_ bring her across." Nick would not lie to her, no matter the cost. "_And_, you made love to her." Natalie pulled away from him, she couldn't stand to have him touch her like that, knowing what she did. "No, Natalie, I didn't." "I don't believe you, Nick." Her voice was rising, she spat the hateful words at him. Nick didn't come near her again, as if he knew that his touch was aborrant to her. "All I can do is keep telling you the truth. I had an obligation to LaCroix and Catherine. I brought her across. I'm sorry Nat, sorry that you don't believe me and that you got hurt. I swore to you that I would only tell you the truth and still you won't believe me." Natalie was shaking her head in denial, heedless of the tears streaming down her face. She couldn't speak; her voice was strangling in her throat. Nick's tone hardened. "I'm sorry if I disappoint you, Nat, if I disgust you, if I'm not what you want me to be. I am who and what I am. So, accept me for that, or..." "Leave you?" The fateful words slipped out before she could call them back; her misery warring with her pride. "Yes." There were no more words; it was over, all that was left was to exit the stage and wait for the final curtain to drop behind him. He was gone in a flash of vampiric speed. This time, Natalie was the one left behind, staring blankly at the gently swinging doors, standing amid the ruin of her life. to be continued...comments, etc. to: -- Cat MacLean hawksrdg@pacbell.net **************************************************** *N&N Packer with Shades of Grey/Closet Vaquera * *2nd Cousin of the Knight/Lonely Hearts Sympathizer* *Writing Is Easy, Just Stare at a Terminal Until * * Drops of Blood Form on Your Forehead * **************************************************** From hawksrdg@PACBELL.NETThu Dec 12 15:51:49 1996 Date: Sun, 8 Dec 1996 09:52:01 -0800 From: Cat MacLean To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: What Goes Around (07/7) WHAT GOES AROUND (07/7) (see disclaimers and notes in part 1) *We go around lie to one another *Without a second thought *Don't you think we're fooling each other *Like this we can't go on *No respect or consideration, where has your conscience gone *Take a step in the right direction or this won't last too long *There's no way we're gonna make it *A change is overdue *Live and learn to love one another *It's all up to you. The old metal door slid heavily in the track and slammed violently back against the wall. Natalie stalked through the open door, five feet of pent up frustration. "Nick? I know you're here." He had to be at home, the sun was fully up and the Caddy was in the parking garage below. "Nick?" Her voice echoed off the high ceiling of the loft. "I'm here, Nat. What do you want?" He stood at the top of the landing, obviously he hadn't been to bed yet. Slowly, he descended the stairs, not knowing what waited for him at the bottom. Natalie stopped; from Nick's lips came her own words back to haunt her. But, Nick said them without the rancor and cynicism that she'd used on him. He just sounded tired and resigned. "I came to bring you this." Natalie strode to the coffee table and dropped the thickly bound journal with a thump. "If and I say _if_ you're interested in becoming mortal someday, you may need this." "Natalie, if I keep trying to come back across, you're the only one I want to help me." Nick could only gaze at the book that represented six years of their life together. Six years that he would do anything to preserve, but it had to be Natalie's choice; after all, it was Natalie's life that was in jeopardy. "Right, Nick. You don't want to be mortal anymore, you enjoyed being a vampire last night. I know, I was there." "That's not true, Nat." Nick was so very tired of saying the same lines over and over again. Natalie didn't believe him, why did he keep on repeating himself? Because he'd made a vow to her, even though she refused to acknowledge the validity of his promise. Calmly, purposefully, Nick crossed to the kitchen and pulled a bottle from the refrigerator. He poured a generous amount of blood into a crystal goblet and sipped, his eyes not leaving hers. "All I can say, is I'm sorry if that's what you think." "That's what I know, Nick." "What is it that won't let you believe me?" Nick looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since she'd entered the loft. Stunned, he noticed the small purpling bruises at the base of her throat, the tell tale scratches and raised welts that could only have been made by a vampire's fangs. He searched her face for answers and saw her own betrayal in the depths. "What happened when Vachon took you home, Nat? What did he do to you?" "Nothing I didn't want him to do, Nick. At least he's not afraid to try to love someone." Nick's eyes flared abruptly from golden yellow to red with his fury. "Vachon did this to you?" "Yes. I wanted him to make love to me. And he wanted me." Natalie stood defiant, glaring back at him, taking her revenge. "You let him do this...knowing the risks? I can't believe it." "Believe it, Nick. At least he's not a coward..." "How was it, Nat? Was it all the thrill you've been looking for?" Nick fairly growled the words in an effort to disguise the pain in his heart. It would devastate him more than he cared to admit if all this time his fears had been founded in reality; that it had been only the dangerous aspects of their relationship that had attracted her to him, to his kind. "Yes." Natalie stood very still, as if made of glass, afraid to move, to break the spell her words had cast. Nick stared at her for a long moment and then, finding he still had the nearly full bottle in his hand, flung it wildly across the room and watched as glass shattered and blood dripped down the wall. He could hear the sultry call of her heartbeat in his ears, in his mind. Slowly, a predatory gleam came into his eyes as he began to stalk her. Unconsciously, Natalie backed a few steps until she found herself against the couch, trapped like prey. Finding no escape, she stood her ground, daring him to take another step. Why had she flung down the gauntlet, knowing that this would be how Nick would respond? Why had she pushed him to this point, to make him prove to her just how much he loved her? She didn't know, her only thought was that she had to take a stand for herself. Nick stopped one small step away from her; her very courage brought him up short. He looked into her eyes, widened in fright, her hand at her throat and whispered, so low that she could barely hear him. "You're right, I am a coward." He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes still flaming. "I'm afraid to love you, Nat." He dropped his hands and turned away from her. "Leave, Nat. You're right. Leave me and go to Vachon if that's what you want." "Nick..." Natalie was completely disarmed by his vulnerability and she began to cry again, this time for both of them, for the mess she'd made of their lives. "Oh, Nick, I'm so sorry; it's not like that. I just wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me." "Nat, that's the last thing I wanted to do, but it seems that I can't help hurting you. Leave me, for your sake, for your own safety. You don't trust me." "I want to. But, how can I when I saw with my own eyes what happened?" "You didn't see everything, Nat. When I was with Catherine, it was your face that I saw; I was with you, loving you in a way that I didn't dare, in a way that I couldn't hurt you. All I could see was you." Nick toyed with the curls lying haphazardly on her shoulders. He lifted one and then another, gently replacing them and caressing her cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?" Natalie sighed, closing her eyes and leaned her face into his hand, reveling in his touch. "Would you have believed me? No, I didn't think so. Nat, you've got to make the decision for yourself to trust me or not. I meant what I said before, I am what I am and I can't deny that it's dangerous for you. I can't ask you to stay with me out of pity; you have to want to stay with me for yourself." He would not beg, his tattered pride would not allow it. "I know. I found that out when I told Vachon to stop...last night." "What?" Nick dropped his hands and stared at her through clear blue eyes. The vampire was gone, only a tortured man remained. "I lied, Nick. I only wanted to get back at you, it hurt so much. I'm so sorry. I lied and I hurt you." Natalie's silent tears paid tribute to the misery in their souls, mistakes made and moments lost. "And I told you the truth and hurt you." Nick's voice was heavy with sorrow and the recognition of lost chances. "What now, Nat? Where do we go from here? It's up to you." Natalie shook her head, denying his words, trying to erase the past. "No, Nick, it's up to _us_. We can start over, can't we?" Nick couldn't meet her gaze any longer; it was too painful, for both of them. "We can't pretend this didn't happen, Nat, that we're the same people we were two days ago. We've changed, both of us. I don't know if we can go back to where we were, to what we were." Natalie reached out to him, took his cold hands in hers and forced him to look at her. "I know. Just be my friend, Nick, for now. I won't give up on us, I won't. I guess I'm just too stubborn." Natalie smiled up at him and Nick found himself lost in that sweet expression once again as he had been so many times in the past. He held her hands firmly, tenderly and smiled down at her, a slow, wistful smile almost daring to hope. "Mule stubborn, as someone I know would say." And there they stood, two lost souls searching for their misplaced future. They took a stand against fate, against time, against all odds to try to begin to renew the fragile bonds that had been strained. Was there a chance for them; could they find their way through the twisted pathways of all their tomorrows? All they knew was that they were stronger together than apart and that was enough for now. finis I hope that you all enjoyed this one. I just love to mix things up and then put them back together again...almost. ;) Stay tuned for the final part of this series, "Remember Me With Love" coming soon on this same station. Thanks ever so for reading. Comments, etc. to: -- Cat MacLean hawksrdg@pacbell.net **************************************************** *N&N Packer with Shades of Grey/Closet Vaquera * *2nd Cousin of the Knight/Lonely Hearts Sympathizer* *Writing Is Easy, Just Stare at a Terminal Until * * Drops of Blood Form on Your Forehead * ****************************************************