I don't know if anyone is still reading this. I've had this written for
ages, along with the next chapter, but I won't bore you with all the
reasons it wasn't up long ago. I still don't have a Beta, so I hope there
aren't too many problems in this, and I'll try and finish off the next
chapter and get it up soon. Thanks to any still hanging in there and
welcome to anyone new!
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I'd love to borrow LaCroix for a while...
Chapter 3: The Fine Art of Smacking Vampires Upside the Head
Even in the middle of the night the lights in the emergency room cut through LaCroix's eyes with a sharp pain and afterimages like looking into the sun too long, assuming he could do such a foolish thing anymore. Hordes of white-coated people swarmed around Dr. Lambert, upset as an overturned anthill at one of their own being injured. He felt something was missing, then realized with a start that he'd been subconsciously expecting incense and someone exhorting the gods for healing. It had been a while since he'd been present at a healing, or whatever they called it now, instead of being the cause of blood being spilled. Well, spilled only if he missed any, he mused.
Dr. Lambert had acquitted herself well in the fight. Even had he not helped, he felt sure she'd have come through somehow, bloodied but unbowed. Less to be thought of was his blinding anger when he'd seen her menaced and injured. He didn't even know if he'd been moving at more than mortal speed as he took her here. Now he lurked on the edge of the bright room, wondering if he could even tell anymore if what they were doing to her would help.
Police arrived at some point in the proceedings, and zeroed in on LaCroix as a bystander, likely from the blood still coating his hands, too much to even begin drying yet, still candy-apple red. Her blood, mostly. It was all he could smell now, filling him like some exotic perfume. He resisted an urge to taste it, yellow glinting in his eyes for a fleeting moment. He contented himself with answering questions on a sort of autopilot. He was just visiting Dr. Lambert. He had no idea who'd attacked her. A crazed patient, perhaps, interrupted mutilating the cadavers? Such a pity. No, he'd like to stay and make sure Dr Lambert was recovering. A trip to Homicide was unnecessary. This last needed a bit of work with his skills of mental persuasion. Luckily, none of the detectives had the annoying ability to resist such things, unlike the good doctor.
He leaned back against the cold metal of one of the counters, feeling memories rising to draw him in. He'd almost given in to them when his arm was clenched tight enough to make his bones creak together. He was unsurprised when he looked up into the furious face of his son, Nicholas, who's eyes had almost gone completely yellow. Not, LaCroix thought, from the blood as he himself had but from sheer anger.
He still felt detached in time and it took him moments of it to hear his son's hiss. "What have you done to her now?" He looked down at the hand on his forearm that was being coated in red as the knuckles whitened with the force of the grip.
Bringing his gaze back up to Nicholas's, he stared sternly back. "Release me."
"What did you do?" Louder this time.
"I've just finished having a chat with your co-workers, but perhaps you'd like to explain your own...oddities to them. He raised an eyebrow.
Nick stared at him blankly before he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the scrub sink, glowing eyes framed by his wild dark blond hair and fangs peeking from under his upper lip. His clothes looked tossed together and rumpled. He'd been caught by the sun while tracking down a suspect and had spent the day in the trunk of his car. There had been no time to go back to his apartment for a shower and fresh clothes when he'd gotten the call about Natalie. Not only did he look like a vampire, he looked like an insane one with no sense of hygiene.
"Outside, then!" He tried to tug at LaCroix's arm, but was unable to even move it. The blood made his grip slick and his hand slipped on the sodden cloth. LaCroix just looked down at his arm again, refusing to repeat himself, also refusing to move. One of the detectives had started to notice them.
"Hey, Nick, anything wrong?" He called out, starting to move closer.
With a muffled growl, Nick removed his hand. "No. I'll be back in a minute." He carefully didn't look the detective in the face. He started for the heavy swinging door into the hallway, not even looking back to see if LaCroix was following.
LaCroix did follow, even thought he had no wish for the argument that always seemed to occur whenever he was with Nicholas lately, even when there was no reason for it. Currently, there was every reason for it, at least he was sure his son would think so. Nicholas was hard to convince of anything that didn't fit his view of the world, or his image of his father. The relationship was of blood not seed, but LaCroix doubted that Nicholas could be any more infuriating had that been the case. He loved his son, but felt an abiding urge to knock sense into him almost continually in these last decades. He felt like he was trying to save a child determined to destroy himself. LaCroix was no less determined himself. Otherwise, he'd have given the boy up and moved on. But no one can forget their children, even when they're mostly at odds with them.
He still felt detached. LaCroix just wanted to make sure Dr. Lambert was taken care of and go home and reflect on the implications of the events in the morgue and old memories that waited to drag him in if only he could have a quiet moment. Looking at his son's still more than slightly golden eyes and aggressive stance he didn't hold out hope that it would be soon. Looking back down the empty hallway, he commented, "If you can keep it to a dull roar, your secret should be secure. I do have other business today, so I should appreciate it if you would be succinct in your imagined grievances against me, Nicholas."
"Imagined! LaCroix, you're covered in Natalie's blood, I'm not imaging that!" He kept his voice lowered with difficulty, making a motion to hit the wall, but managed to stop with his knuckles scraping the light green paint. He opened his hand and laid it palm flat against the wall, closing his eyes briefly as if drawing strength from his contact with the solid building.
LaCroix had no idea how to answer what was, really, only the truth, as far as it went. He felt too weary to explain and resented the boy yet again seeing him as the villain. He refused to think of the many times he had been just that. Logic wasn't always a guest at family arguments.
Heavy, swift steps pounded down the tile floor towards their stand- off. "Hey, Nick! Have you seen her? She okay? I can't believe she got cut up in her own morgue! What're the odds of that, even in this city?" Detective Skanke's loud chatter announced his arrival. The man was short and rather round, always making LaCroix idly wonder if the police still had any sort of maximum weight limits. Skanke was blowing hard and he got to them, his balding scalp shiny with sweat. He leaned over a bit, bracing his hands on his thighs while he got his breathing under control. "So spill, Knight!" He looked up at Nick from his bent over position.
"Doctor Lambert is supposed to be well, Detective," LaCroix told him when Nick had left the silence go on too long.
"Great! Lucien, isn't it? Nick's dad? I heard you were the big hero of the day! The word is that Nat'd be on one of her own slabs right now if you hadn't chased that guy off and kept her from bleeding out..." Skanke vaguely remembered being introduced to the elegant man with the short white-blond hair and almost military bearing when he'd been at the Raven club looking for Nick one night. The guy hardly looked old enough to be Nick's father, but he might just carry his age well. After nagging his partner about it on a slow stake out, Nick had admitted that Knight wasn't his original last name and that he'd changed it to fit in more in the precinct. Skanke had to admit 'Nicholas LaCroix' was a less likely name for a homicide detective than 'Nick Knight', even with all of the jokes that went around with Nick being on the night shift.
Nick's head whipped around so fast Skanke could almost hear a snap. "He saved her?" he asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, sure! He didn't tell you?"
"I just got here." Nick turned to LaCroix, a stunned look on his face.
"Well, thank the man properly! Take him out to dinner or something. I gotta go check on the Doc. Myra will want to know everything when I get home." Straightening, he trotted back to the emergency room. Well, he does recover quickly, LaCroix reflected. The short, almost comical man's unflappable stability, both mental and physical, was probably why he worked so well with Nicholas who lacked the former and would need the latter in a human partner.
Limiting himself to a raised eyebrow, LaCroix stared at Nick. "Do you wish to continue flinging accusations at me?"
Nick had the grace to look embarrassed. "No." Staring back at the emergency room, he added, "Thank you."
"You're very welcome."
"Why?"
LaCroix didn't even pretend to misunderstand his son. "Dr. Lambert would be something of a loss were she to be gone from the world, I think." Another patient was quickly rolled past them, trailing the thick odors of blood and fear. The wheels of the gurney squeaked on the tile floor, the sound shivering on the edge of painful to heightened hearing. "Is that so surprising?"
"For you, yes. No, I'm sorry again. I'm so used to arguing with you that it's a hard habit to break." LaCroix silently agreed. Occasionally Nicholas could actually be quite perceptive, if he could keep himself from just lashing out at problems. Not that he himself was free of that peccadillo, but he needn't share that with the boy. Nick closed his eyes again, but fewer stress lines were apparent on his face this time. When he opened them, he looked a little more in control of himself. "You said she was going to be all right?"
"That is what I could compel out of one of the attendants. They weren't inclined to be very communicative to me, even if I did bring her in."
Sharply laughing, Nick told him, "You aren't a relative, so you've bounced off of hospital rules. Just lie to them. People do it all time."
"Lie?" This seemed to be a new idea for LaCroix, and not one he particularly liked. He was wearing what Nick called his 'Roman Patrician' expression, which was not unlike Wolfgang Puck presented with a fast food burger. Offended and superior with a slight under current of curiosity and wondering if he was missing something.
"That isn't new to you."
"Certainly not! But unnecessary for such a small matter."
A loud buzzing filled the corridor, emanating from somewhere in the blond detective's pants as he jerked in surprise. "Shit! What now..." Nick dug in his pocket for a pager, finally finding the button to shut it off. He put it back in his pants, looked thoughtful, pulled it back out, pushed a few more buttons and put it away again. Seeing his father's confusion, Nick explained, "Scanke keep turning on vibrate when he borrows it. Bit of a shock if you aren't expecting it. I forgot to check it last time."
LaCroix smirked, and realized that he liked this Detective Skanke much more.
"Damn it! I can't stay...this'll be the break in my case, and I need to check the site before it gets mucked up. I've got to find someone to stay with Nat. I don't want her to wake up alone. I wonder if Grace is on duty yet?"
"I will stay, Nicholas." Forestalling protests, he added, "I was the one who saved her. Surely I can be trusted for a few more hours. After all, if anything happens while she is in my care, I would have a hard time convincing you of my innocence."
Nick could almost feel his mind working a mile a minute. He wanted badly to stay, but Natalie would be the first one to yell at him if he didn't go. She'd had one too many customers from this case, and had been quite vocal about what she'd like to do to the one responsible if she could get him on her table, dead or alive. Nick had been rather shocked at her creativity. LaCroix looked tired but determined. He had saved her, whatever his reasons.
"You have my word she will be safe."
He knew how hard that was for LaCroix to say, admitting that he knew he truly wasn't trusted. And he'd never gone back on something once he'd sworn it, good or bad. Nick closed his eyes for a moment, relief warring with worry in his thoughts. He looked straight into his sire's eyes for a moment. "Thank you," he said formally. LaCroix gave him a slight bow of the head and a low rumble of approval. With a last somewhat conflicted expression on his face, Nick left, leaving the old warrior to his vigil.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I'd love to borrow LaCroix for a while...
Chapter 3: The Fine Art of Smacking Vampires Upside the Head
Even in the middle of the night the lights in the emergency room cut through LaCroix's eyes with a sharp pain and afterimages like looking into the sun too long, assuming he could do such a foolish thing anymore. Hordes of white-coated people swarmed around Dr. Lambert, upset as an overturned anthill at one of their own being injured. He felt something was missing, then realized with a start that he'd been subconsciously expecting incense and someone exhorting the gods for healing. It had been a while since he'd been present at a healing, or whatever they called it now, instead of being the cause of blood being spilled. Well, spilled only if he missed any, he mused.
Dr. Lambert had acquitted herself well in the fight. Even had he not helped, he felt sure she'd have come through somehow, bloodied but unbowed. Less to be thought of was his blinding anger when he'd seen her menaced and injured. He didn't even know if he'd been moving at more than mortal speed as he took her here. Now he lurked on the edge of the bright room, wondering if he could even tell anymore if what they were doing to her would help.
Police arrived at some point in the proceedings, and zeroed in on LaCroix as a bystander, likely from the blood still coating his hands, too much to even begin drying yet, still candy-apple red. Her blood, mostly. It was all he could smell now, filling him like some exotic perfume. He resisted an urge to taste it, yellow glinting in his eyes for a fleeting moment. He contented himself with answering questions on a sort of autopilot. He was just visiting Dr. Lambert. He had no idea who'd attacked her. A crazed patient, perhaps, interrupted mutilating the cadavers? Such a pity. No, he'd like to stay and make sure Dr Lambert was recovering. A trip to Homicide was unnecessary. This last needed a bit of work with his skills of mental persuasion. Luckily, none of the detectives had the annoying ability to resist such things, unlike the good doctor.
He leaned back against the cold metal of one of the counters, feeling memories rising to draw him in. He'd almost given in to them when his arm was clenched tight enough to make his bones creak together. He was unsurprised when he looked up into the furious face of his son, Nicholas, who's eyes had almost gone completely yellow. Not, LaCroix thought, from the blood as he himself had but from sheer anger.
He still felt detached in time and it took him moments of it to hear his son's hiss. "What have you done to her now?" He looked down at the hand on his forearm that was being coated in red as the knuckles whitened with the force of the grip.
Bringing his gaze back up to Nicholas's, he stared sternly back. "Release me."
"What did you do?" Louder this time.
"I've just finished having a chat with your co-workers, but perhaps you'd like to explain your own...oddities to them. He raised an eyebrow.
Nick stared at him blankly before he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the scrub sink, glowing eyes framed by his wild dark blond hair and fangs peeking from under his upper lip. His clothes looked tossed together and rumpled. He'd been caught by the sun while tracking down a suspect and had spent the day in the trunk of his car. There had been no time to go back to his apartment for a shower and fresh clothes when he'd gotten the call about Natalie. Not only did he look like a vampire, he looked like an insane one with no sense of hygiene.
"Outside, then!" He tried to tug at LaCroix's arm, but was unable to even move it. The blood made his grip slick and his hand slipped on the sodden cloth. LaCroix just looked down at his arm again, refusing to repeat himself, also refusing to move. One of the detectives had started to notice them.
"Hey, Nick, anything wrong?" He called out, starting to move closer.
With a muffled growl, Nick removed his hand. "No. I'll be back in a minute." He carefully didn't look the detective in the face. He started for the heavy swinging door into the hallway, not even looking back to see if LaCroix was following.
LaCroix did follow, even thought he had no wish for the argument that always seemed to occur whenever he was with Nicholas lately, even when there was no reason for it. Currently, there was every reason for it, at least he was sure his son would think so. Nicholas was hard to convince of anything that didn't fit his view of the world, or his image of his father. The relationship was of blood not seed, but LaCroix doubted that Nicholas could be any more infuriating had that been the case. He loved his son, but felt an abiding urge to knock sense into him almost continually in these last decades. He felt like he was trying to save a child determined to destroy himself. LaCroix was no less determined himself. Otherwise, he'd have given the boy up and moved on. But no one can forget their children, even when they're mostly at odds with them.
He still felt detached. LaCroix just wanted to make sure Dr. Lambert was taken care of and go home and reflect on the implications of the events in the morgue and old memories that waited to drag him in if only he could have a quiet moment. Looking at his son's still more than slightly golden eyes and aggressive stance he didn't hold out hope that it would be soon. Looking back down the empty hallway, he commented, "If you can keep it to a dull roar, your secret should be secure. I do have other business today, so I should appreciate it if you would be succinct in your imagined grievances against me, Nicholas."
"Imagined! LaCroix, you're covered in Natalie's blood, I'm not imaging that!" He kept his voice lowered with difficulty, making a motion to hit the wall, but managed to stop with his knuckles scraping the light green paint. He opened his hand and laid it palm flat against the wall, closing his eyes briefly as if drawing strength from his contact with the solid building.
LaCroix had no idea how to answer what was, really, only the truth, as far as it went. He felt too weary to explain and resented the boy yet again seeing him as the villain. He refused to think of the many times he had been just that. Logic wasn't always a guest at family arguments.
Heavy, swift steps pounded down the tile floor towards their stand- off. "Hey, Nick! Have you seen her? She okay? I can't believe she got cut up in her own morgue! What're the odds of that, even in this city?" Detective Skanke's loud chatter announced his arrival. The man was short and rather round, always making LaCroix idly wonder if the police still had any sort of maximum weight limits. Skanke was blowing hard and he got to them, his balding scalp shiny with sweat. He leaned over a bit, bracing his hands on his thighs while he got his breathing under control. "So spill, Knight!" He looked up at Nick from his bent over position.
"Doctor Lambert is supposed to be well, Detective," LaCroix told him when Nick had left the silence go on too long.
"Great! Lucien, isn't it? Nick's dad? I heard you were the big hero of the day! The word is that Nat'd be on one of her own slabs right now if you hadn't chased that guy off and kept her from bleeding out..." Skanke vaguely remembered being introduced to the elegant man with the short white-blond hair and almost military bearing when he'd been at the Raven club looking for Nick one night. The guy hardly looked old enough to be Nick's father, but he might just carry his age well. After nagging his partner about it on a slow stake out, Nick had admitted that Knight wasn't his original last name and that he'd changed it to fit in more in the precinct. Skanke had to admit 'Nicholas LaCroix' was a less likely name for a homicide detective than 'Nick Knight', even with all of the jokes that went around with Nick being on the night shift.
Nick's head whipped around so fast Skanke could almost hear a snap. "He saved her?" he asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, sure! He didn't tell you?"
"I just got here." Nick turned to LaCroix, a stunned look on his face.
"Well, thank the man properly! Take him out to dinner or something. I gotta go check on the Doc. Myra will want to know everything when I get home." Straightening, he trotted back to the emergency room. Well, he does recover quickly, LaCroix reflected. The short, almost comical man's unflappable stability, both mental and physical, was probably why he worked so well with Nicholas who lacked the former and would need the latter in a human partner.
Limiting himself to a raised eyebrow, LaCroix stared at Nick. "Do you wish to continue flinging accusations at me?"
Nick had the grace to look embarrassed. "No." Staring back at the emergency room, he added, "Thank you."
"You're very welcome."
"Why?"
LaCroix didn't even pretend to misunderstand his son. "Dr. Lambert would be something of a loss were she to be gone from the world, I think." Another patient was quickly rolled past them, trailing the thick odors of blood and fear. The wheels of the gurney squeaked on the tile floor, the sound shivering on the edge of painful to heightened hearing. "Is that so surprising?"
"For you, yes. No, I'm sorry again. I'm so used to arguing with you that it's a hard habit to break." LaCroix silently agreed. Occasionally Nicholas could actually be quite perceptive, if he could keep himself from just lashing out at problems. Not that he himself was free of that peccadillo, but he needn't share that with the boy. Nick closed his eyes again, but fewer stress lines were apparent on his face this time. When he opened them, he looked a little more in control of himself. "You said she was going to be all right?"
"That is what I could compel out of one of the attendants. They weren't inclined to be very communicative to me, even if I did bring her in."
Sharply laughing, Nick told him, "You aren't a relative, so you've bounced off of hospital rules. Just lie to them. People do it all time."
"Lie?" This seemed to be a new idea for LaCroix, and not one he particularly liked. He was wearing what Nick called his 'Roman Patrician' expression, which was not unlike Wolfgang Puck presented with a fast food burger. Offended and superior with a slight under current of curiosity and wondering if he was missing something.
"That isn't new to you."
"Certainly not! But unnecessary for such a small matter."
A loud buzzing filled the corridor, emanating from somewhere in the blond detective's pants as he jerked in surprise. "Shit! What now..." Nick dug in his pocket for a pager, finally finding the button to shut it off. He put it back in his pants, looked thoughtful, pulled it back out, pushed a few more buttons and put it away again. Seeing his father's confusion, Nick explained, "Scanke keep turning on vibrate when he borrows it. Bit of a shock if you aren't expecting it. I forgot to check it last time."
LaCroix smirked, and realized that he liked this Detective Skanke much more.
"Damn it! I can't stay...this'll be the break in my case, and I need to check the site before it gets mucked up. I've got to find someone to stay with Nat. I don't want her to wake up alone. I wonder if Grace is on duty yet?"
"I will stay, Nicholas." Forestalling protests, he added, "I was the one who saved her. Surely I can be trusted for a few more hours. After all, if anything happens while she is in my care, I would have a hard time convincing you of my innocence."
Nick could almost feel his mind working a mile a minute. He wanted badly to stay, but Natalie would be the first one to yell at him if he didn't go. She'd had one too many customers from this case, and had been quite vocal about what she'd like to do to the one responsible if she could get him on her table, dead or alive. Nick had been rather shocked at her creativity. LaCroix looked tired but determined. He had saved her, whatever his reasons.
"You have my word she will be safe."
He knew how hard that was for LaCroix to say, admitting that he knew he truly wasn't trusted. And he'd never gone back on something once he'd sworn it, good or bad. Nick closed his eyes for a moment, relief warring with worry in his thoughts. He looked straight into his sire's eyes for a moment. "Thank you," he said formally. LaCroix gave him a slight bow of the head and a low rumble of approval. With a last somewhat conflicted expression on his face, Nick left, leaving the old warrior to his vigil.