Natalie walked the deserted streets of Toronto, trying to make sense of what had happened earlier that night. She felt so lost and confused. She couldn't explain any of it-- not the attraction she felt for LaCroix nor the proposal she'd just turned down.
Natalie was divided. Half of her wanted to run back to Nick, to say she was wrong and beg to be taken back. She knew Nick. He was as familiar to her as Sidney. With him, she could expect, or hope for, years of cozy comfort.
LaCroix was another story. Although she didn't know him half as well as she knew Nick and what little she did know wasn't very pleasant, a part of her yearned to be with him. The memories she had of his kindness to Natasha... his gentility and generosity... screamed for her to go to him. But what would she be getting herself into? What could she expect? Could she really leave the stable relationship she had with Nick for something unknown and dangerous?
Her mind told her no. It would be better to go back to Nick. He would take her back in a heart beat. Her heart, ruled for the most part by Natasha, screamed for her to embrace the unknown. But Nick will take me back, if I-- Nat argued. Beg? her Natasha half sneered. I refuse to beg. What are you... chicken?
In the end, Natalie decided that she had come to far to go back now. She had to confront her feelings for LaCroix.
It was near closing time when Natalie arrived at the Raven and the club was deserted. Vachon was clearing things off the stage and LaCroix stood at the bar. They were the only ones there.
"Good morning, Natalie," LaCroix greeted her without a smile. "I didn't expect to see you here... this late. Under the circumstances, I would have thought you to have been off celebrating with Nicholas."
"There's nothing to celebrate."
"Oh?"
"I turned him down."
"Why... whatever for?" LaCroix asked.
Nat took a deep breath. "Because...
I... I don't love Nick the way that I love you..." she said at last.
Vachon dropped the speakers he was carrying and gaped at the two of them in disbelief. "I didn't just hear that... I *did* *not* just hear that," he said in denial. Nat merely nodded. "But... why? I thought you loved Knight?"
"So did I," was Nat's reply.
"I trust, Javier, that this little scene will go no further that this room," LaCroix said, his voice low and persuasive. "I would hate to lose someone so talented."
Nodding, Vachon left as quickly as he could.
"Now... where were we, my dear?" LaCroix asked of Natalie.
"Right here, Lucien," she purred, sidling closer to him to kiss his lips.
LaCroix pulled her against him, letting the kiss deepen until they were both on fire. When the kiss ended, he took her hands gently in his own and led her to a table. After they were both seated, he began to speak. "Is this what you want, my dear, truly?" His voice a soft and low.
His eyes sought the truth in her own.
"I... I.." Natalie stammered, unable to give him a confident answer. "I think so," she said at last.
"You *think* so... but you are not positive?"
"No... I'm not, " answered Natalie. Much to her inner horror, she began telling him how nightmarish it had been for her since she had regained her memory. "I don't really know what I'm feeling anymore."
"And yet you can honestly come in here and tell me you love me?" LaCroix asked. When Natalie's eyes dropped to the table, he placed a finger under her chin, raising her eyes to meet his. "You must be honest with me, Natalie... and with yourself. A relationship should not be based on uncertain or vague feelings. You must know what you want."
"But.. I.. thought you would-- "
"What? That I would just take you back.. as if the last few months had never happened? My dear, that cannot be," LaCroix told her. He could see her heart breaking.
"Then... you *don't* love me, after all," she said to him, looking for all the world like the Natasha who had been ashamed of making a scene in his shower. "I thought you did."
LaCroix sighed. He did have very strong feelings for Natalie Lambert. Every time he saw her, he was reminded of his Natasha. "I *loved* Natasha, Natalie, and I did not relish giving her up. You are not Natasha."
"But I am! We are the same person!" Nat protested.
"No, you are not. You may have her memories, but you are not her. Natasha was young and vibrant and so confused. She needed me for guidance... to give her life meaning. You do not. She was a simple person, desiring only attention. You are an enigma to me, Natalie. And..." he took her hand, stroking it gently, "as much as I would love to unravel the mysteries of your complexity, I cannot do so at this time."
"Do you feel nothing for me, then?" Natalie asked. Inside her, Natasha was crying at what she thought was betrayal.
"Au contraire, I feel very strongly about you, ma petite. I merely wish for the chance to court you properly. I have no desire for a brief and tawdry dalliance," LaCroix told her.
As the words he said began to make sense, LaCroix leaned across the table to kiss her. The kiss was nothing like the first one they'd shared that night. There was no fiery passion. Instead, it was languorous and deep, heart-melting and soul-searching. It left her trembling, and when he stood and pulled her into his arms, she could not have moved if she'd wanted to. He held her caressingly for several seconds before letting go at last.
"Go home, Natalie. I think we both have need of rest," he said, his voice strained with emotion.
"When will I see you again?" she asked.
"I will come to you when the time
is right."