Nat picked up Sydney's carrier and paused in the doorway of LaCroix's apartment. She was grateful now that she had decided not to relinquish her old apartment so quickly. Otherwise, she would now have nowhere to go. Sydney meowed disdainfully from the carrier. "I know, I know. We've done this a lot lately, haven't we, Sydney? What else is there to do?"
You could stay and work things out with him, came Natasha's voice from the back of her mind. Nat ignored her this time.
"Come on, Sydney. It's time to go," she said to her cat as she closed the door behind her.
Glancing back one last time, Nat
felt as if she had just closed the door on her entire life. What was left
for her now? How could she possibly go on in this town, knowing that the
one person she loved was so close and yet so far, far away?
It was several days before LaCroix returned to his apartment. He had not gone, as he had first intended, to fight with Nicholas. When he had first left Natalie that night, he had been too grieved over Fleur--too distraught by the fact that her own brother had betrayed her memory--to think straight. He'd flown for hours at a break-neck speed, allowing the cold wind to rush over him until his pain subsided into dullness.
When dawn was fast approaching, he retired to one of many resort spots he owned around the globe. The closest one--a hunting cabin in the wilderness on the US side of Lake Ontario, not far from where he'd taken Natalie on a night not so long ago--was where he had remained for the better part of week. As it was rustic, with no electricity or phone lines, LaCroix had not called home. Indeed, he hadn't thought to do so. Whether he'd expected Natalie to remain in his home or not had not crossed his mind.
Nevertheless, when he finally returned, he found the apartment devoid of things which Natalie had brought with her to give it a lived-in look. He inhaled deeply, his nose telling him that neither Natalie nor Sydney had been there recently. The air was musty and stale. Making a mental note to open a window later, he went to Natalie's room. Opening the door, he found it empty; although at this point, that came as no surprise.
As he turned to close the door, however, something caught his eye. Upon the pillow on the bed, there was a blue envelope which he recognized to be from the stationary Natalie frequently used.
**LaCroix,** So, we are back to "LaCroix" now, he thought as he stared at the letter Natalie had left him. He suddenly felt empty... emptier than he had felt in hundreds of years.
**What I feel for you cannot be expressed in mere words, and I thought at one time that you knew this. Indeed, I thought that our relationship was one based on mutual honesty and respect. What I find instead is that I don't really know the man I love. I came to you asking for the answer to a simple question, to prove that Nick was wrong about you. But instead of doing that, you cut me off completely. I am torn now between my feelings for you and the desire to know the truth.Therefore, I think it is best if we spend some time apart, so that we both can decide what we really want. Sydney and Ihave gone back to my apartment for now. I'm not sure that I want you come after me just yet. I need time. I do love you,Lucien, but I cannot live on lies and half-truths. I hope you can understand that.
--Natalie**
At first, LaCroix went about his daily routine as if nothing had changed. He did his NightCrawler shows every night and spent, perhaps, a bit more time at the Raven than usual, but he didn't let anyone see that he was hurting.
Yet, hurting he *was.* Often, as he watched the young ones, mortal and vampire alike, performing their pagan rituals on the dance floor, he was reminded of the way Natasha--and later, Natalie--had danced with him. Indeed, all around him the world seemed to be in love. The more he tried to ignore it, the more intense his heartache became. What was worse, however, was the strange fact that his eyes were now playing tricks on him. He would look out across the sea of gyrating bodies and se her standing there on the edge of throng. When he went to her, however, she would disappear, leaving him to stand there-- lost and confused.
This night was no exception. After ending his monologue--one that he had only half-heartedly recited--he had retired to the bar in order to drown his sorrows in the Raven's finest blends. No sooner had he found a quiet table and poured a glass of the bloodwine when he saw her on the edge of the dance floor, flirting with a younger vampire. He jumped up and strode forth, pushing aside those who got in his way. When he reached the young one's side, it was not Natalie, but another, younger vampire--one who looked nothing like his beloved--who had been flirting so boldly.
Confused, he started to turn away and was intercepted by Ursula, who pulled him into the thickest part of dancing crowd. "W-what is the meaning of this?" he asked her, struggling to make sense of what had just happened.
"I was about to ask you the same thing... uh, sir," Urs said half-shyly. "You wanna talk about it here or back at your table?"
"Not here," LaCroix growled at her. "And what makes you so certain there is anything to talk about, child?"
Urs shrugged. "I've been watching you. Lately, you haven't been yourself, sir."
Her concern softened his expression, and as LaCroix led her back to his table, he said to her, "You don't have to call me 'sir,' Ursula. 'LaCroix' will do nicely."
"LaCroix, then," Urs agreed as he held out a chair for her to sit. She smiled a little. "That's kind of you. Javier doesn't do such things for me."
"The Spaniard doesn't know how to treat a lady."
"I'm hardly a lady by any standards, LaCroix," Urs said modestly, "but we're not supposed to be talking about me. We're supposed to be talking about you and Doc Lambert."
LaCroix was staggered. He had thought he and Natalie had been fairly discrete. "What about... myself and Dr. Lambert?" he asked.
"You were dating, and now you're not," supplied Urs. "It has you shaken up. I can tell. Why don't you do something about it?"
"Like what?" LaCroix asked her, suddenly feeling touchy. "What would *you* suggest I do, ma jeune?"
Urs ignored the sarcasm in his voice and went on. "Talk to her. I don't know what happened--I don't *want* to know--but I know she loved you. Everyone could see it in the way she looked at you and the way she responded to you when you came in here to dance. Knight never made her act that way. It was only you. If you go to her and talk about it, whatever it is, I'm sure the problem will go away."
LaCroix could only stare at her. Was it really that simple? He, a 2000 year old master, had to be taught the ways of a relationship by a wide-eyed child? Urs's innocence astounded him.
"What else do you think I should do? If you were in my place, how would you win back your love?" he asked her.
"Tell her how you feel-- that you love her, that you miss her. Be honest. Women *love* that kind of stuff."
"And... *when* exactly should I do this thing?"
"When?" Urs pondered. "Why, now, of course! You should go to her right now. Every moment you wait is a moment wasted."
Her enthusiasm was catchy, it seemed.
Yes... he thought. I *will* go see her now. He stood suddenly and bent
to kiss Urs on the forehead. "Thank you, my dear! You have helped me more
than you know," he said as he left her sitting there, staring bewilderedly
at his retreating back.
*****
Nick came down the stairs in a robe, his hair still wet from his shower. Going to the refrigerator, he reached for a bottle-- which he nearly dropped when he turned and found his master behind him.
"LaCroix..." he said tensely. What could his master want with him now? "I see you're back finally. Nat said you'd left."
"Have you seen her, Nicholas?" LaCroix asked quickly when Nick mentioned her name. "Have you seen my dearest Natalie?"
Nick could barely hide his surprise. Was *this* the LaCroix he had known for 800 years? How could it be? The vampire before him was...? Agitated and love sick? "Not since she came here... close to week ago. She said you'd... had a fight and that you left her and hadn't been back since." Nick studied LaCroix carefully. He was shaking. "LaCroix, would you care to sit down? I'll get you a drink, and we can talk."
"I don't want your cow swill, Nicholas," LaCroix countered in rejection.
'It's... it's not cow," replied Nick, averting his eyes. "I've... gone off my regimen."
Their eyes met, each one searching the other in silence. Finally, Nick spoke again. "Nat told me what you were fighting about. She asked me about Fleur."
LaCroix was surprised at Nicholas's candor... and a little angry. He remembered how close he'd come to finding his son and killing him that night. In fact, he wasn't quite sure what had stopped him.
Nick could feel his master's rising anger, but pushed on regardless. "It was all my fault, LaCroix. I spoke without thinking that night at work. I wanted to win Nat back so badly that I thought if she hated you, she would come back to me. When she didn't listen to reason, I blurted out that stuff about Fleur, and once I realized what I'd done, I regretted it. I'm sorry. I know you can't forgive me... I can't even forgive myself."
"Did... did you tell her about your sister, Nicholas?" LaCroix asked in a near-tremulous voice.
Nick shook his head. "How could I? How could I bring myself to lend an evil light to her blessed memory? It was bad enough that I did what I did. I couldn't tell her."
"So now, she is angry with both of us," stated LaCroix evenly.
"So it would seem. I *am* sorry, LaCroix. When she told me you were missing, I tried to find you," he said.
"Why?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "When
I saw how upset Nat was, I realized how wrong I had been. I thought maybe
if I could find you, I could set things right. Do you really love her,
LaCroix, as I do?"
They talked now, as they had never talked
before-- each of them listening and hearing for the first time. LaCroix
told his son about the young and vibrant Natasha and how much it had pained
him to lose her. Nick listened, hearing his master for the first time in
centuries.
"You really did give her up just for me?" he asked when LaCroix finished his story.
"You find that hard to believe?"
"Yes, I... I would never have guessed you to be capable of such a selfless act," Nick admitted.
"What does it matter anyway, if neither of us knows where she is?" LaCroix asked, reminding Nick that Nat was apparently missing.
"I... I *could* call Grace," he suggested. Seeing the puzzled look on LaCroix's face, he added, "Grace Balthazar. She used to work with Nat on the night shift. They were close friends. If anyone, Grace would know where Nat is." So saying, he reached for his cell phone and began pushing buttons.
LaCroix listened impatiently as Nick spoke to Grace, trying to read his son's expressions. "Well?" He asked when Nick set the phone down. "Was Ms. Balthazar helpful?"
"She says Nat took a leave of absence for health reasons. She's baby-sitting Sydney while Nat's on vacation."
"Did she say where Natalie went, Nicholas?" Hope sprang into LaCroix's eyes.
Nick shook his head again. "And considering Nat has one of your bank cards, she could be anywhere," he added.
They both heaved a sigh. Nick grabbed the bottle he'd all but forgotten about and poured out two glasses. This time, LaCroix accepted it gladly. After a long silence, Nick spoke again.
"I love her, LaCroix," he said.
"As do I."
"Then we have a problem. Who gets her?" Nick set his now empty glass aside.
LaCroix remembered something Urs had said about honesty and game-playing. "Perhaps the lady should decide for herself, Nicholas," he commented.
Nick's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Just what I say. We should not choose for Natalie. She won't appreciate it."
"Let her choose between us?" Nick asked suddenly. "What if she picks one us over the other?" he asked.
LaCroix laughed. "That, my boy, is the whole point. If she chooses you, I will step aside in favor of her happiness. If she chooses me, you shall do the same. Agreed?"
"You would do that-- give her up if it meant she would be happy?" Nick asked. "Even if you were miserable?"
"Yes." LaCroix replied. "I love her, Nicholas. I love her with such intensity that I would chose to die, if that pleased her."
"Me, too."
"Are we agreed, then?" LaCroix asked again.
"What if she rejects us both?" Nick asked.
"Then we both bow out."
"So be it, then," Nick said, agreeing at last. "Now what?"
"Unless you know where Natalie is, we wait," LaCroix said before draining his glass.