A/N: Oh my...what's this? WHAT'S THIS? This is...the result of my husband being gone for the weekend, giving me some time to myself and privacy to write, that's what this is.

I tried to go to bed early that night, bowing out of my duties for Prince Evans by telling him I hadn't had my drink for the night and was feeling ill for it. He didn't buy it, I knew; but he bid me a good evening and let me go. In the long run, I don't know why I even bothered. As LaCroix had once told me, we Kindred are "hard-wired" with the sun. Since sunrise was still a couple hours away, the chances of my sleeping were small. Considering my restless thoughts on top of that, and I doubted I'd sleep restfully even once the sun rose. Lying on my back in the dark bedroom, I sighed, fighting my own thoughts for a while as they tried to turn to Layla and LaCroix every moment, then giving up the fight altogether. With a grumble, I rolled onto my side and grabbed my phone from my nightstand. I sat up and turned on the small light there and stared at my phone for a long while.

Another hefty sigh escaped me; and I put the phone down on my crossed legs, still staring at its blank screen. My thoughts were running at full speed now, but I was stubbornly ignoring all of them. I only acknowledged that they were there, not what they were. It took a few moments to realize that my hands were clenched on the bedspread on either side of me. My teeth were clenched, and my lips were pressed together tightly in a thin line. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to relax and failing. As my eyes opened again and landed on my phone, I felt like the fire in my glare should have melted the thing in my lap. He really should know about this, shouldn't he? I reasoned. After all, shouldn't it be better to hear it from me than her or, worse, through the proverbial grapevine?

And once again, it would be my begging forgiveness for being impetuous, impatient, and brash, losing my composure, and reflecting badly on him, I argued with myself.

That's going to have to happen anyway. Even if I don't mention a word about it, he'll find out eventually. Even if it's years from now, he'll find out.

Frustrated, I let out a growl and snatched up the phone again, unlocking the screen and punching the speed dial button for LaCroix with enough force to nearly break the phone. One ring...two rings...three rings... My teeth were bared as the fourth ring sounded in my ear. I was ready to press the "end" button after the fifth, then I heard his voice. "LaCroix."

"Well, you must be busy tonight," I said with a slight sneer.

There was a slight pause on the other end, and I cringed inwardly. That was no way to speak to my sire... "Not especially," LaCroix said, and I could hear the hesitation in his voice. My snapping at him must have confused him as well. "I stepped away for a moment. Is everything all right?"

His question made every bit of angry tension leave me, and I slumped down in the bed slightly. "No," I sighed, reaching over and turning the light back off. I felt better in the dark. Less exposed. "No, not entirely."

LaCroix sighed. "What is it?" he asked. He didn't quite sound irritated or annoyed, but he didn't exactly sound concerned either. Tired of dealing with me, perhaps? I pushed my strange insecurity out of my head and explained what had happened earlier that night. I didn't dress it up or sugar coat it or try to make me sound like the "good guy." LaCroix knew me better than that; he would have seen through every word. When I'd finished the recount, the prince stayed silent; and my bottom lip found its way between my teeth. I silently pleaded with him to say something. Finally, he did. "How...convenient."

I blinked into the darkness. "Convenient?" I repeated dumbly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Think for a moment. She just happens to be at the same event that you're attending even though it's out of the area in which we know she and Ingram are staying."

I shrugged. "She said that Ingram and Prince Evans are acquainted," I said.

"True, I'm sure, but did you see Charles with your own eyes?"

Blinking again, I shook my head before speaking. "No...but that doesn't mean he wasn't there." I chuckled then, leaning back against the bed's headboard. "Prince LaCroix, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to speak to my suspicious nature by feeding these ideas into my head that Layla was seeking me out for some reason."

"And if she was?"

I paused. "I don't understand."

"Humor me for a moment, Miss Lucas," LaCroix sighed, a touch of that familiar annoyed tone coming through finally. "Why would she be trying to find you?"

"She said she wanted to speak to me," I said, speaking slowly as I thought. "She knew about the rumors and wanted me to know that whatever measures I'd taken against her were unnecessary, that she was no threat." Before LaCroix could say something, I added quickly, "But why go through the trouble of coming to Sacramento just to tell me that? Hell, she could have gone to you and told you that she wanted me to leave her alone! I'd think that would have been easier."

He chuckled. "Possibly, Miss Lucas, she was trying to bury the hatchet, so to speak?" I rolled my eyes but didn't answer. "Perhaps she wanted to make peace herself, just the same as you'd been thinking the other night; and instead, she was met with animosity and suspicion."

I scoffed. "What, you think she was trying to make friends with me?" I asked dryly.

"I think she was trying to get you out of her life in the most polite way she knew how," LaCroix said, his voice low. I knew that tone of voice. He was ready to show me just how pissed off he was with me. "And somewhere through the conversation, you made a remark—just a single remark—that told her that she would never have even the slightest ounce of respect from you, not even the facade of polite behavior."

I was starting to be angry again myself. "What has she ever done to gain my respect?" I asked sharply. "If you count giving your ring back as a noble action on her part, that's fine; but it's going to take a lot more than that to get the stain of her first impression off my mind."

"She is Ventrue," LaCroix sighed. "The same as you or I. Yes, there are rivalries amongst clanmates. However, to be so blatant about it, Miss Lucas-"

"Oh, shove it, LaCroix," I growled into the phone. "I don't need another lecture. I called to tell you what happened so you wouldn't hear some inflated account of it from someone else. That's it. I didn't want your opinion-" Lie. "-your support-" I'd known I wouldn't have that anyway. "-and least of all, your blow-hard lectures. I know I screwed things up yet again." I laughed bitterly. "But hey, if I didn't fly off the handle and make a mess of things, it just wouldn't be me, right? You wouldn't even know your own childe at that point!" I was shaking now, and even I didn't understand why I was so angry. I wasn't even sure if I was angry at myself or at him or at Layla or what. "The day you no longer have need to lecture me, LaCroix, is the day you can stake me out for sunrise," I said, my voice raising in volume. "I am sick of having to act like a holier-than-thou Ventrue when I'm obviously no better than mud on your fucking shoe. Why try to trick myself into thinking I'm some grandiose creature when I'm just an errand girl? A fucking chauffeur! That's what I was tonight, LaCroix. A goddamned chauffeur for a fucking Malkavian. I don't want this anymore!" I deflated then, out of words, out of thoughts, and out of energy. I curled my knees to my chest and rested my head on them. Even now, I'm unsure why I didn't hang up the phone after my outburst. Maybe it was my connection to him, still needing to hear his voice even after I'd essentially told him to fuck off.

A few seconds of silence went by, then I heard him sigh. "Do you think I enjoy this any more than you?" he asked, his tone a strange kind of soft. "I don't enjoy having my phone ring and answering it to find out you're nearing an emotional breakdown." He paused, then continued. "You've never acted like a—as you put it-'holier than thou Ventrue,' Natalie. I believe every time you think you've acted like that are the times in which you've behaved as you have tonight: childishly and harshly." He paused again, letting that sink it; and it did. I buried my head into my knees a little more as he went on. "Your words are very telling of your opinion of the Ventrue clan; but allow me to remind you that, even in spite of whatever your opinion may be, you still are part of the Ventrue clan. And no matter what you do or say, you will be until you meet your Final Death. You can't redefine the Ventrue and what we stand for. You can either accept it and make it a part of you or die. It's completely your choice."

I chuckled weakly. "I don't know if I should take that as a threat or not," I said.

"Not at all. However, the more enemies you make of your own clanmates, the more likely it is that you will meet your end by their doing."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. Somehow, I knew I should have felt regretful for calling him; but somehow this talk was making me feel better. Then I suddenly knew why: I felt lost. I needed guidance. Misbehaving was the only way I knew to get it. I sighed and leaned back against the headboard again. "I'm sorry I reflect badly on you." God, I could use a hug right now, I thought, then I chuckled due to the surprising suddenness of the thought and how out of place it felt.

"What are you laughing at?"

I shook my head though he couldn't see me. "I...I think I'm tired," I said. "I don't have much control over my thoughts right now. Inappropriate timing for something that came into my head, that's all."

"You don't seem to have much control over yourself," he pointed out.

I groaned inwardly and curled up again, this time propping my chin on my knees. The first words that came to my head left my mouth unbidden. "I want to come home."

"Why?"

"I can't do this," I bemoaned. "I need you."

A couple seconds of silence, then I heard him chuckle softly. "Here's a bit of perspective for you," he said. "Take that feeling and imagine how it feels to have that at the forefront of your mind for months. Years." I bit my bottom lip while imagining it. "Imagine that and top it with no phone calls, no communication, nothing." Unconsciously, I whimpered slightly. He chuckled again. "Now imagine having gone through that and suddenly seeing the person whom you feel you need most and not being able to revel in their presence. Knowing that the person you've longed for all this time wants nothing to do with you."

"I know where you're going," I said, softly. "You want me to sympathize with Layla. You're trying to show me why I should lay off."

"That's one angle," he said. "Now, imagine it again, but from the other side. Same connection, same longing; but when you see the person who sets off your every nerve just by making eye contact, you loathe yourself for the need over which you have no control. You want nothing more than to let go of the addiction, and you can't. You're trapped within your skin; and the only thing you can do is harden yourself and set your whole sense of being outside your body, leaving the bare minimum of yourself necessary to interact in a way that most would see as 'normal' for you."

"Please...stop..." I begged. I didn't want to hear how his bond to Layla felt to him. I didn't want to hear him talking about how hard it was to fight. What if he stopped being able to fight it someday? What would happen to me?

"These things...may happen to you someday," he said, breaking into my rapidly downward-spiraling thoughts. "You're incredibly young, Natalie. You will fall. Many times. One of those falls may be into a mistake like my own, though I hope I've taught you well enough that it won't come to that." He paused. "I wouldn't ever wish that on you."

His words made me feel melancholy. Then I chuckled. "You want to know something funny about that?" I asked.

I could picture his eyebrow raising as I heard his slightly curious yet suspicious reply, "What's funny?"

"If I were to make that same mistake...well, I think I already have."

He laughed under his breath. "Perhaps that's true. And if it is, than I am sorry."

"For what?" An apology from LaCroix? And as I'd asked, for what?

"You are my childe. Not my lover. Remember?"

"I know..." My lips pressed together a little more tightly. He couldn't just let me pretend for a moment longer?

"Maybe it's time for our charade to come to an end," he mused. "It's becoming a detriment to your advancement."

So cold and businesslike. "Whatever you see fit, Sire," I said mechanically.

His laugh surprised me. "You can't decide what you want to be, can you?" he asked, confusing me. As if he sensed my confusion through the phone, he said, "One moment, you're telling me off; and the next, you're willing to do whatever I say. You don't know if you want to be your own person—whatever you deem that to be—or my childe. As if they can't be the same thing."

"They can't," I said, my words muffled against my legs. "I can't act like the person I've always been without shaming you in some way."

"I don't believe that."

His reply surprised me, making me sit up straight. "What?"

"I don't believe that. This way of life can absolutely drain someone of all personality, forcing them into a mold that makes them absolutely unremarkable. It's happened to so many Ventrue. But I don't see that happening to you." His voice had a quality that made me wish I could see him in person. I imagined that glimmer in his eyes that he got whenever he was excited about something or planning something. In turn, it made me excited. Who needs motivational speakers when you've got Sebastian LaCroix on the other line? "You're fighting right now to find some way for the person you've always been to coexist with your Ventrue blood. It will probably take years, possibly decades for that conflict to calm within you; but you're Kindred now." His voice lowered to nearly a whisper. "You have that time."

I mulled his words over in my mind. "What about you?" I asked. "Did you have the same conflicts?"

He hesitated. "In a sense, we all do," he said, and I thought he was dodging my question at first. "But yes. Remember that I was younger than you when I was embraced. And in love. I resented my sire for years, and my entire being was controlled by that. You can only imagine how much trouble that got me into, I'm sure."

I giggled, trying to picture it in my head. Somehow, I thought that maybe that youthful nature of LaCroix hadn't quite left him as completely as he liked to think; especially with the temper he could have. I wasn't about to tell him that, though. "How did you move past it?" I asked.

"Realize, Natalie, that you were at your best and seemed to be most comfortable when you were working towards setting a Ventrue as prince of Sacramento," LaCroix said. "I moved past mine the same way I'm sure you'll move past yours: busying ourselves with ventures that consume us and challenge us and leave no room for those inner conflicts. Through those challenges, we begin to rebuild ourselves, molding ourselves into a blend of our mortal past and our Kindred present." I grinned. LaCroix's voice was taking on his "great speech-maker" tone. "Those who mold themselves after that which the clan expects of them and nothing else turn out to be bland and nothing extraordinary. In these nights, you must be extraordinary to survive. You have to show that you have something special to offer to gain the power on which we thrive."

"And you think I have that something special?" I prodded. Yes, I was fishing for compliments. I needed them that night, and LaCroix seemed in a mood to deliver.

"I wouldn't have embraced you if I didn't," he said. "I think you may be somewhat influenced by my own...lapses in patience at times, and that's where these feelings of hopelessness are coming from. For that, I do beg your forgiveness. To make you doubt yourself by passing my own shortcomings off on you is a grave disservice that a sire should never place on his childe."

"It's okay," I whispered, grinning. I cleared my throat so I could speak without squeaking excitedly at his praise and humility towards me—me! Getting a very formal apology from Sebastian LaCroix, Camarilla Prince of Los Angeles and my sire! "I've never been the most patient person either..."

LaCroix cleared his throat as well, and I wondered if he was ashamed or embarrassed by feeling the need to apologize like he had. "Yes, well...you mentioned you wanted to come back to Los Angeles. Are you...continuing to plan for that?"

"As soon as possible," I said, then thought for a moment. "Though, I really should finish out the time I committed to Prince Evans. It's only right, and I don't want to be thought of as unreliable."

I heard LaCroix chuckled. "Good girl," he said softly, and I nearly started purring.

"I miss you," I whispered.

Again, he laughed lightly. "You are, quite possibly, the most affectionate Kindred I've ever known. The most affectionate Ventrue if nothing else."

I pouted a little. "You don't hate it, I hope..."

He sighed. "No, my dear, I can't say I do." At that, I lost control and let out a small, quick squeak. LaCroix laughed out loud.

"I...er...sorry," I stammered, covering my face with my hand. Nice one, Nat...

"No, not at all," he said, still chuckling. "I don't know what kind of sound that was; but it sounded happy, I suppose..."

"Yeah, you do that to me sometimes," I said, knowing it was risky to say.

LaCroix made a small, thoughtful sound. "You know...it was never my intention to get you caught up in such a...a thrall, as it were." A slight pause, then I heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end and a very quiet, "Ouch..."

"What?" I asked, fully alert. "What happened?"

"Er...n—nothing. Just...nothing." My lack of response seemed to tell him that I wasn't buying it. Speaking quickly, he said, "Turned my chair too quickly and caught my hand between the armrest and desk, that's all."

I snickered lightly. "Why, Prince, I've never known you to be clumsy," I chided.

"Hmph," was his only response, and I knew better than to poke further at him in spite of any amusement it promised.

"You must be tired," I offered as an excuse for him. "I've put you behind in your work too much tonight, and sunrise is coming. My apologies, Prince."

"Assure me that my time speaking to you was not wasted, and you're forgiven," he bargained.

I laughed. "It wasn't. I'm glad I called."

"Good morning to you, then," he said.

"Good morning, Prince," I said, smiling. "Rest peacefully."

"And you." The line went dead, and I was tired, but I was happy again. This time I acknowledged my thoughts fully.

You're just happy because you heard his voice.

Not just that.

Because he seems to like your being affectionate?

Oh yes...yes, that makes me very happy.

Isn't that a little...weird, though?

Nah. It's been a long time since anyone's cared about him. He's probably missed it.

Yeah...keep telling yourself that.

I snorted a light laugh at myself as I lay back down. I wondered briefly if LaCroix was actually one of those Malkavians who thought himself to be Ventrue. It'd make sense with as much as I, his childe, talk to myself...

Another A/N: Confession time—this is possibly the scariest chapter I've posted so far, just because it's been almost a year since I've updated. This was a lot of nothing, I know, not much REAL content added to the story here in the long run. I guess it's kinda testing the waters and getting back in touch with these characters a bit. After Sunday (8-28-11), updates will probably become very few and far between again; but we'll see.