A/N: Someone has suggested that I make this story more understandable by those who have not seen Forever Knight. I shall endeavor to do so, while still keeping the die-hard fans entertained. Please let me know how I am doing, both in this regard, as well as any other in which you see I may need improvement. I am certain there are many places where that may be so.

I do not own Forever Knight.

Airplanes were the overseas transportation of choice in this generation. They were faster, some say easier on the stomach, and it afforded you a more stunning view of the final destination once it landed.

And any sun-filled sky that might accompany it.

For this reason, Nick gazed out the port of a ship instead, as he and Lacroix waited for their departure over the seas instead of the skies. Lacroix had taken care of everything... even to ensure that they not be disturbed by anyone, no matter for how important or trivial a matter. And so, Nick gazed out into the darkness, knowing the time would soon come to cover the window tightly against the sun's rays. It was his last night in Canada... his last night near her.

As if on cue, the ship put off from port, he could feel the movement, and he turned away to see Lacroix sitting nearby, a wine bottle in hand... and two glasses on the table.

"Sit down, Nicholas," he said, in tone that caused Nick's instinctive obedience, even after all the centuries. He did so slowly, however, dreading what he knew was to come.

All those years, he had fought his own nature. All those years, drinking the blood of animals, avoiding human blood like the plague, lest the thirst cause him to slip, to drink from a living vessel...

And yet, hadn't all of his attempts at becoming mortal, all those decades of self-denial, caused his thirst to grow? So much so that, as he sat, nearing the bottle, a sense of longing fought with his pre-existing sense of dread, the conflicting emotions playing over his features in a way that anyone could see.

But it wasn't anyone who was with him. It was Lacroix.

"Nicholas, you know as well as I that your abstinence from human blood has done more harm to you than good. It was a noble effort, but a misguided one," he said, as he uncorked the bottle, and poured the thick red liquid into both of the glasses. His eyes met Nick's. "I can feel the thirst within you, Nicholas. Drink," he said.

Nick looked away, down at the wine glass. He could smell it... it was all he could do to keep his hand from shaking as it reached out for the glass...

Distinctly he was reminded of a time long ago, over 800 years ago... the very first time he had taken a victim...

He was flushed. The glass was empty, and his hand was shaking, and the stem of the glass broke within his grasp. He could feel it... coursing through him...

"Yes, Nicholas," a voice whispered in his ear, and Lacroix was behind him, his hands on his shoulders. "Your thirst rages, it permeates the room," he said, and reached over, sliding the bottle into Nick's hands. "Drink... drink, and remember. Remember the thirst... remember why we drink..."

"I remember," Nick said, his throat hoarse, eyes glowing and fangs extended even without his permission. Carefully, so very carefully, he brought the bottle to his lips.... and drank...

Lacroix watched as Nick drank deeply from the bottle, relishing in the sated thirst of his childe. When Nick had come to him with news of Jeanette's death, he had been greatly saddened, though he had felt the ache of her absence long before. But though he mourned the loss of his daughter, he was amazed, transfixed, at the change it had wrought in his son.

Ever since he had first brought Nick across all those centuries ago, he had sensed a nagging doubt within his childe, despite the gusto with which he had taken to the life of a vampire. Over the centuries, Nick's doubt had grown, festered, until it took him over, and his son had been all but lost to him.

But when Nick had returned to him that night, the vision of Jeanette's body still echoing painfully in his thoughts, the smell of her still upon him... something had shifted within him. It was small... but it was detrimental, like a tiny crack spidering out over fine porcelain. They had both sensed it... and, for once, Nick began to listen to reason.

The bottle on the table was empty, and Nick's eyes were closed, his breath trembling, and Lacroix could feel the long-denied vampire awakening within his son. Now it was time for control, for the steadying hand of the Master, lest Nick lose himself in his thirst.

"That is enough for now, Nicholas," Lacroix said, unnecessarily moving the now empty bottle out of reach. "How do you feel?"

Nick's eyes remained closed, but he responded quickly enough. "Alive," he said, his voice shaking somewhat. His eyes opened, boring into his Master's, and they were normal, the deep blue of the eyes he had been born with. "I... I feel like I'm slowly waking up," he said, though Lacroix did not miss the flicker of doubt that shadowed his face.

"Good, Nicholas. You've taken the first step to recovery. There is still a long way to go, but you should take these steps slowly. Trust in me, Nicholas. Have I not always guided you?" he asked, searching the face of his son.

Nick gazed at him. "Yes... yes you have," he said, his voice heavy with emotion, though there were so many Lacroix could not divine which one was felt the most strongly. "Even when I turned my back on you... you never gave up on me," he said, his expression of a seriousness Lacroix had become quite accustomed to over the years.

Lacroix nodded, and walked behind him, laying a hand on his son's head as though he were a child. "I have already forgiven you, Nicholas," he said, smiling as he laid a hand on Nick's shoulder. "Now, it's time to rest. The sun is getting ready to rise," he said, though Nick's hand came up to linger over his for a brief moment before Lacroix withdrew it.

It was an easy matter of covering the tiny window so that no light permeated the room. The cabin was small, but not cramped, and it was not long before Nick was asleep. Despite his advice to the contrary, Lacroix stayed up for a few hours, watching him, contemplating what was to come...

A/N: Tell me what you think, dear readers. Your comments are like my navigational charts... the journey has started, but where will it lead?