"Stalemate" - Forever Knight for foxy11814
Title: Stalemate
Fandom: Forever Knight
Characters: Nick, Lacroix, Natalie, Captain Reese
Word Count: 8053
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Forever Knight and its characters were created by Barney Cohen and J.D. Parriott and are copyright to Sony/Tristar. None of the characters in this story belongs to me. I'm just borrowing them temporarily. No infringement intended. No profit is being made. Part of the dialogue is taken directly from "Francesca", written by Gillian Horvath.
Summary: Memories of Francesca trigger suppressed desires in Nick.
Author's Note: For foxy11814 with the prompt Nick/Lacroix: "A realization of what is wanted and needed".
Lyrics: "Conversation" by Joni Mitchell
But friends are friends forever So hard to change their role Laugh with
him, cry together A friend feels so old Hey friend, it feels so whole
But you keep your feelings deep inside You talk of them and think of
pride Now is the wrong time But maybe if a dozen days are warm and right
You'll hear him say "I've wanted you baby for such a long time"
He comes for conversation I comfort him sometimes Comfort and
consultation He knows that's what he'll find
Acknowledgements: Special thanks to Walt and Doris for beta reading, to foxy11814 for the inspiring prompt, and to larah33 for creating the opportunity to write this story.
Timeline: Season 3, immediately after "Francesca"
Stalemate
by PJ
April 2012
"I don't need time off," Nick insisted.
Captain Reese leaned heavily on his desk and released a sigh. "You know the drill, Nick. I didn't make up the rules. It's standard procedure. You've killed a man, you get three days off in order to get it out of your system."
"I didn't kill him, it was an accident," Nick objected.
"You fought; he ended up with a battle axe in his chest. Don't tell me he pierced himself."
Nick opened his mouth to contradict, but thought better of it. Frank Lopietro had indeed pierced himself, but only because Nick had left his spot at vampire speed. Frank had advanced on him with a burning torch and the momentum had driven him onto the battle axe. But that was something Nick couldn't write into his report. So he had mentioned a fight and erased the memeory of Lisa Kadlec, the only surviving witness.
"Listen, Nick, we all know that you saved Dr. Kadlec's life in the process. IA won't make an issue. This case has been extremely weird and left us all a bit rattled. I think you can use the time off. Even your partner has taken a week's leave."
The Captain was right. This case had him rattled. And that was precisely why he preferred to keep himself distracted with work instead of sitting alone in the loft where he had to deal with the unbidden memories this case had stirred up.
"Of course, if you'd rather prefer three days of desk duty…" the Captain added.
Nick looked at him askance.
"Thought so," Reese nodded. "I don't want to see you here before Thursday."
Reluctantly, Nick left the office. Before heading out, he made his way down to the evidence room and retrieved a bag of tapes from one of the boxes.
* * *
"Male, Caucasian, 53 years ---" Natalie stopped the recorder when she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. Turning towards the door, she was startled to see Nick firmly rooted in the middle of the room.
"Hi," he said sheepishly.
"Your case?" Natalie pointed at the half-covered body on the slab.
Nick shook his head. "Reese ordered me three days off in order to deal with killing Francesca."
Natalie studied him closely. "You don't seem too happy about it. I wish my boss would grant me extra days off."
Nick shrugged. "It might be appropriate for mortals, but it's not really necessary in my case."
"Are you sure? You keep referring to him as Francesca. Maybe you do need time to sort that out."
"No," Nick shook his head. "I'd rather not think about her any longer."
Natalie creased her brow. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"I'm fine," Nick said evasively. "Do you want to drop by after you've finished here?"
"Video night? I'd love to, but unfortunately I've got two more of these piled up. I won't be finished before dawn." Disappointment was evident in her voice.
Nick frowned.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just unexpected to have three nights off. I'm not exactly sure what to do."
Natalie stared at him, flabbergasted. "Don't you have laundry or cleaning or similar things to do? - I guess not," she added when Nick gave her a clueless look.
* * *
After casting his jacket onto the coat rack and storing his holster in his desk drawer, Nick opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle. He reached for a glass, used his teeth to remove the cork and poured. He hesitated before taking a sip. He wasn't really hungry, but this was his routine when he came home from work in the morning. Only, it wasn't morning. He hadn't been gone more than two hours and the entire night still lay ahead of him.
Settling down on the couch, Nick picked up the paper from the end table and scanned the theatre listings. Of course, no shows on Mondays, he frowned. A year ago, he would have spent a night like this in Janette's company at the Raven. But with her gone, he was reluctant to visit the club, knowing that a confrontation with his master was usually inevitable.
Nick took a huge sip from his glass and regarded it critically. He probably owed Lacroix an update on what had happened to Francesca. He might as well get it over now. He emptied the remainder of his drink and grabbed his coat.
* * *
"Tonight's meditation is dedicated to an old friend. They say friends are friends forever, and so, unchangeable are their roles. You laugh with him and cry together. A friend feels so old, only he can make you feel whole. But you keep your feelings deep inside. You talk of them and think of pride. Now is the wrong time, but maybe if a dozen nights are warm and right you'll hear him say 'I've wanted you for such a long time'. Come to me for conversation, mon ami. The Nightcrawler provides comfort and consultation. You know that's what you'll find..."
* * *
Nick paused on top of the stairs. It was a slow night at the Raven, the dance floor only scarcely filled. Lacroix was nowhere in sight, but Nick sensed his presence nearby. He was probably doing his show in the broadcast booth at the back of the club. He sauntered over to the bar and found an empty spot at the end, the place Janette had usually occupied.
Without being prompted, the bartender placed a drink in front of him, but Nick held up his hand to refuse. "Thank you, I'm not thirsty."
"This is a bar, Nick. I don't want to get in trouble for neglecting the needs of a customer."
Nick sighed, well aware of the contents in the glass in front of him. This bottle had been kept separately from the rest. The rich aroma that assaulted his senses spoke of the high quality that was a given in Lacroix's private stock. It was tempting, especially after listening to the minute description of freezing a person's emotions in the blood. He had hardly been able to keep his eyes from changing when he had listened to the tape in Reese's office.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
"The timing is very important. The knife slides home in a single stroke and freezes time, pouring everything they're feeling into their blood. They're caught between lust and fear. When I taste their blood I taste that, their lust for me, their fear of me, there is nothing sweeter.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Nick blinked several times and pushed the full glass out of his reach.
"Is something wrong with that vintage?"
Nick stiffened at the purring voice close to his ear.
"My supplier assured me it was exquisite."
Nick turned to face his master. "Yes, Lacroix, there is something wrong with it. I didn't order it."
"It's on the house," Lacroix supplied in a generous tone.
"I don't want it."
"Of, course, you're on duty." Lacroix's voice turned mocking as he reached for the glass and raised it to his own lips.
Nick's eyes followed the movement and focused on the sensuous lips that parted slightly as Lacroix took a generous sip from the blood. "I've been suspended for three nights for killing Francesca," he finally stated.
Raising his eyebrows, Lacroix placed the half empty glass on the counter. "Isn't that a bit late? You killed her 240 years ago. Do you still believe in this reincarnation theory?"
"You haven't heard the tapes. It was her. And you were right, she didn't remember me fondly."
"Tapes?"
"Recordings from the sessions with a psychiatrist who applied past life regression. Forensics uncovered them at Frank Lopietro's apartment. I took them. They're still in the trunk of my car." Nick jumped from his seat and headed out of the club. A minute later he was back, holding a sealed evidence bag up in front of him. Motioning Lacroix to follow, he preceded him to the sound booth.
"This doesn't go over the air, does it?" Nick asked as he popped a tape into the player.
"I suppose, there was a reason why you removed them from mortal ears?" When Nick remained silent, Lacroix assured him, "No, this does not go over the air."
Nick nodded and pressed the play-button, watching Lacroix closely.
"I've lived here almost 400 years. It is my home. The bed is walnut with ivory linen sheets and a square cornered canopy with sheer curtains and green velvet that matches the drapes. I keep the curtains drawn at the daytime but at night I can see the moon through the window over the bureau. I keep the men downstairs, but the others, the ones like me, I bring here. Someone's here now.
'Lucien. It's been so long. And who is this fair traveller?'
'Nicholas Chévalier. Nicholas, allow me to introduce you to one of your sisters. Comtesse du Montaigne.'"
Much to his satisfaction, Nick observed the surprise that flashed across Lacroix's face.
"'The Nicholas of whom I've heard so much? You did not do him justice.'
'I hope this doesn't inconvenience you, Francesca, but we found ourselves in urgent need to travel.'"
Nick's lips curved into a smile and he found the same hint of amusement reflected on Lacroix's face.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Paris 1755
"Well, Nicholas, have you chosen your meal for tonight?" Lacroix inquired in a low voice, leaning closer to his protégé.
Nicholas Chévalier eyed the parade of young ladies filing into the ballroom with unconcealed interest. "It's hard to choose when there's so much on the menu."
"Perhaps I should choose for you," Lacroix offered seductively. "An hors d'œuvre to gnaw on, followed by a far more satisfying main course?"
"Why should I waste my time with the hors d'œuvre when the main course is what truly satisfies me?" Nicholas asked in return.
"Because my impatient child, there is no such thing as wasting time when you have eternity. There is however a certain pleasure in anticipation. The hors d'œuvre is supposed to whet your appetite for the main course."
"I am already hungry, Lacroix," Nicholas pointed out.
"All the more will you appreciate tonight's treat," Lacroix assured him and stepped up to a young lady upon whom Nicholas' eyes had lingered during the last minutes. Nicholas watched as he whispered something into her ear. Then he led her through the arched doorway onto the terrace.
About ten minutes later, Lacroix returned. Nicholas was somewhat surprised to see the girl still on his arm. She looked a bit flushed but otherwise unharmed.
"Nicholas, allow me to introduce you to Comtesse Giselle. She has been eager to meet you."
Nicholas raised her hand to his lips and graced her with a seductive smile. "Enchanté, Comtesse. May I engage you for the minuet?"
The girl inclined her head in consent and allowed Nicholas to lead her onto the dance floor, while her eyes lingered a moment longer on Lacroix.
Nicholas led her gracefully through the slow steps. "Is this your first visit at court?" he inquired.
"Oui, my aunt and I arrived this morning from Orléans. I was hoping to be appointed lady-in-waiting to the Queen."
Nicholas lifted her chin with his finger tips and smiled at her knowingly. "You're hoping to catch the eye of the king," he observed. When she blushed, he added in a low confidential tone, "You will have more chances to meet the king when you aspire to become lady-in-waiting to the Royal Mistress."
"Is that so?" the girl asked, highly interested. Then her gaze focused on something behind Nicholas. "Where is Monsieur Lacroix going with my aunt?"
Nicholas turned around and met Lacroix's eyes for a moment. A knowing smile passed between them before the elder vampire led his companion out of the room. "She looks more like your sister than your aunt," Nicholas commented. "I assume he's taking her on a stroll in the moonlit garden."
"She's my mother's younger sister. She raised me after my parents died." After a melancholy pause she added, "A stroll in the moonlight sounds wonderful."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Nicholas smiled and led her into the garden. Sensing his master's presence to his left, Nicholas turned his steps to the right. When he reached a secluded passage that was concealed from view by overgrown bushes, he turned toward Giselle and brushed his hand gently along the side of her face. "You're far too fair to become mistress to a lusty king," he observed.
"Monsieur Lacroix mentioned he could introduce me to ---"
Nicholas grabbed her chin tighter. "You, ma belle, mention Monsieur Lacroix far too often in my presence," he hissed into her ear before biting into the vein at her neck.
Her hot blood rushed into his mouth. With the first swallow he sensed it. Desire. Overwhelming desire directed at his master. He revelled in the all too familiar sensation he had often experienced himself.
All too soon, the fountain ceased and the girl hung lifeless in his arms, leaving him hungry for more. He wondered what Lacroix had done to evoke such feelings in her. Within the ten minutes he had been alone with her, he must have instigated a longing that didn't abate during the time she spent with Nicholas.
Nicholas stared at the body in his arms. An hors d'œuvre indeed. He cleaned his lips with the back of his hand. Lifting the body, he quickly flew the distance to the Seine where he dropped the body unceremoniously into the water, his mind already on the promised main course. He returned instantly, landing on the balcony that belonged to the suite he and Lacroix occupied in a remote wing in the Palace of Versailles. He stormed into the parlour, eyes ablaze. "Lacroix!" he roared.
Lacroix turned around and regarded his child with open affection. Sensing his hunger, he opened his collar in deliberate slow motion and found Nicholas' eyes immediately focused on his neck. "You still look hungry, mon fils. Have you found your meal unsatisfying?"
"The meal was fine. It was her feelings that left me wanting for more."
"Are you certain they were her feelings and not your own that are responsible for your current need?"
"This has nothing to do with anyone's need, it's what I want," Nicholas proclaimed passionately.
Lacroix pulled Nicholas' head towards his neck.
Without hesitation, the younger vampire plunged his fangs into the vein. The first sip was like
an explosion. He tasted everything. 1,700 years of memories.
Lacroix tore the fabric from Nicholas' neck and pierced the skin. Holding tight, he pushed Nicholas toward the bedroom until they tumbled onto the mattress.
Nicholas roared as he lost his hold. Instantly he bit deeply into Lacroix's shoulder, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. He felt Lacroix against him and tasted his own blood returning through his.
* * *
Lacroix eyed his sleeping creation with a tender expression. After initial issues with guilt, Nicholas had turned out magnificently. Under his tutelage, he had become an efficient hunter with eclectic tastes. Yet, Lacroix knew that a part of his former righteousness lay still dormant within him. He could taste it in his blood. Aware of the fine line on which Nicholas walked, Lacroix was careful in the choice of Nicholas' meals. One wrong sip, and Nicholas' conscience would rear its head in alert, destroying everything he had accomplished.
Knowing from experience that the younger vampire would continue to sleep for a couple of hours, Lacroix put on clean clothes and left the suite.
He made his way to the third floor where he knocked at a door. He was immediately admitted by a servant who ushered him into a lady's boudoir.
"Lucien, thank you for coming by," the female occupant of the room greeted him.
Lacroix waited until the servant had retreated before walking up to where she sat at the vanity. "How can I be of assistance, Jeanne Antoinette?" he inquired.
"I need your advice. What would you think of an alliance with Austria?"
"Austria? Against Prussia?" Lacroix asked, highly interested.
"Maria Theresa wants to reclaim Silesia from Prussia. There's been rumours that King George will refuse to aid Austria in a renewed conflict for Silesia as long as Prussia agrees to protect Hanover from us. I've been approached by Prince Kaunitz to bring the matter before the king."
"The Austrian ambassador?"
"You know him?"
"He's a master in the art of diplomacy. The Empress thinks very highly of him and trusts him unconditionally. The very fact that he approaches you, my dear, instead of the king proves his cleverness," Lacroix stated, brushing his finger tip lightly across the bare skin on her shoulder that was partly uncovered by her dress.
"That statement may have been true a decade ago, however, with my fading youth, the king has begun to spend his nights elsewhere," she lamented.
"I thought you took care of that particular problem by arranging the marriage of your rival to a nobleman from Auvergne?"
"Oh Lucien, I wish she were the only problem. There's already another striving to gain the king's favour. Which is why I summoned you tonight. I require the king's undivided attention to propose Prince Kaunitz' plan to him."
Lacroix straightened. "I see. Do you favour a permanent removal?"
A shiver ran through her before she met Lacroix's eyes in the mirror. "I believe that would be for the greater good of France," she proclaimed steadfast.
* * *
Nicholas woke in a tangled mess of soiled linen. The scent of his master's blood permeating from the sheets roused his hunger. With a growl he jumped from the bed and ripped the linens from the mattress, dumping them on a heap in the corner beside the fireplace.
"Ah, Nicholas, you're up. Good." Lacroix observed as he returned.
"Where have you been?" Each time he and Lacroix shared blood to the point of intimacy, he was confused by his master's behaviour afterwards. While he was grateful for the private space granted him by his master's absence, he also felt slightly hurt by Lacroix's apparent indifference to what had transpired between them. He couldn't help feeling used which led him to consider their mutual feeding spree to be wrong.
Lacroix sensed Nicholas' troubled mind and reached out to brush his hand through his hair, comfortingly. Instantly Nicholas snatched his hand and bit into the wrist. Lacroix let him feed a couple of swallows before withdrawing his arm. "Madame has an errand for us tonight," he stated.
"I'm not her executioner," Nicholas objected.
"No, but you're hungry. And the Marquise de Lourdes will be the perfect relief from your distress."
"She's beautiful," Nicholas recalled, distractedly. "Isn't she intimate with the king?"
"Not yet, but she's striving to be, which is precisely why Madame wishes her engaged elsewhere tonight. She needs to discuss stately matters with the king." Lacroix regarded his child with an amused expression. "From your preoccupation I gather that you no longer object to the assignment?"
Nicholas' smile was enough to convince him that the king would see no more of his newest mistress.
* * *
It was that same smile that caused the Marquise de Lourdes to abandon her plans to meet with the king and take a complete stranger to her private room in the king's palace.
Nicholas took his time to worship her face, showering her with kisses. Once he'd reached her bare shoulder, he could no longer resist and bit deeply into her pulsing vein.
He tasted her life and her loves and stopped abruptly. She had already been with the king. In fact, she had been expecting him to come to her chamber this very night. Nicholas looked up in alarm as he heard approaching footsteps. He jumped from the bed and melted into the darkness as the door was thrust open.
"Mon dieu!" he heard a male voice gasping. An instant later, shouts were heard and the palace guards alerted. Nicholas used the confusion to speed through the increasing crowd that had been attracted by the commotion. He dashed through the palace towards his rooms.
"Lacroix!" he shouted as he reached the door and came to an abrupt halt. Lacroix stood with his back to the window, surrounded by guards.
"Ah, Nicholas. A chamber maid discovered these linens in the corner. And now the good Cardinal wishes to know whom I have slaughtered last night. Would you care to offer an explanation?"
Nicholas looked from Lacroix to the familiar bloody sheets on the floor, which he had forgotten to dispose of. The guards immediately shoved Nicholas by use of halberds toward Lacroix. Nicholas tensed and prepared to fight, when he caught sight of the cross the Cardinal was wearing. "Those sheets are not the only problem we have," he whispered instead.
"Indeed? Do tell," Lacroix returned, unfazed.
He didn't have to. More guards entered the room. "He's the one. He was seen leaving the ballroom with her!" the leading officer pointed at Nicholas.
During the ensuing confusion among the two groups of guards, Nicholas leaned closer to Lacroix. "I was interrupted by the king's arrival."
"In that case, I recommend a tactical retreat," Lacroix whispered back with a nod towards the window behind them. A second later they crashed through the window into the night, leaving the guards stunned behind.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
'In urgent need to travel', indeed, Nick thought wryly. They had left Paris that same night, fleeing south to Avignon. He turned his attention back to the tape.
"We're drawn together from the first time I see him. Even in the shadow of our master he's the one I see. I had to have him."
Nick stopped the tape, looking slightly embarrassed to the floor.
"She wasn't the first to think so of you, Nicholas," Lacroix breathed, his voiced laced with innuendo.
"Are you now convinced that it was her?" Nick demanded, ignoring the remark.
"I must say the dialogue suggests a certain degree of inside knowledge."
"What does it mean, Lacroix? Will my evil also be transferred to someone else when I die?"
Lacroix placed his glass on the table with a sharp report and grabbed Nick's chin. "That is a question you do not need to concern yourself with," he lectured distinctly. "I suggest however, that you exert more caution in whom you kill since your victims appear to have a tendency to haunt you."
"I'm sorry I killed her. You didn't seem bothered back then. I never understood why. She was your daughter, Lacroix. I thought you cared about family."
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Avignon, 1755
Lacroix woke with a start. He cast out his senses in order to investigate the cause of the disturbance. He received very strong emotions from Nicholas. His child was upset. In 500 years he had gotten used to the sudden mood swings of his son. However, how a day filled with immense passion could turn into the enormous anger he now perceived was even beyond his comprehension.
He donned his clothes, stepped over the body of the musician Francesca had provided for him to dine on and went in search of his wayward son. He froze in mid-step as the sensations changed, and he perceived rage from both his children. They were fighting. Whatever Nicholas had done, it had triggered Francesca's fury. Lacroix felt a sudden dread as he considered Francesca's superior strength due to her age in comparison to Nicholas'. Following the vibrations, he rushed toward the kitchen, prepared to intervene in whatever altercation his children were involved. He increased his speed as he sensed Francesca's determination to kill. As he rounded the corner, he stopped abruptly at the scene in front of him. Francesca lay trapped underneath the gate to the pantry, the wooden bars piercing her chest. Nicholas turned toward him, eyes full of anguish, but apparently unharmed. Lacroix felt too relieved to mourn the loss of his daughter.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
"I inherited an estate at the Côtes du Rhône and a cellar full of finest vintages," Lacroix stated with a shrug, keeping his features carefully schooled.
"Possessions! That's all you care about," Nick spat.
Lacroix's eyes bore into him. "Yes," he said icily. "And I prefer to keep them."
"I'm not your possession!" Nick shot back heatedly, turned on his heels and stormed out of the sound booth. The sound of the door he'd slammed shut reverberated through the club, causing several heads to turn curiously in his direction.
Lacroix closed his eyes briefly, wondering how a civilized conversation between him and his son could have taken such a deteriorating turn. With a frown he pressed the play-button and continued to listen to the tapes.
* * *
Nick pushed the elevator door aside and walked straight to the fridge. He used his teeth to rip the cork from the bottle. After spitting it unceremoniously on the floor, he upended the bottle and drained half its contents before setting it disgustedly on the counter. After reminiscing on the taste of his master, this was utterly dreadful.
He was well aware that he had deliberately ignored the comforting companionship that was building up in the sound booth. Nick knew the evening could have gone differently if he had given in to Lacroix's subtle remarks. He just wasn't ready to give Lacroix the satisfaction of seeing him submit to his needs.
Nick eyed the bottle again. What he needed was more than blood. It was the perverse urge to possess. To plunge his fangs into another being and to learn everything about their lives, their loves, and their dreams. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Nick grabbed the bottle and went upstairs, hoping to sleep it off.
* * *
Around noon Nick gave up trying to find sleep and returned downstairs. He retrieved a new canvas and placed it on the easel. Then he prepared a palette of oils and drew lines at random on the canvas. Painting usually had a soothing effect on his mind. After painting for several hours he stepped back to regard his work. He had aimed for something abstract, yet on closer inspection he could clearly discern the forms of two bodies pressed together in a tight embrace, their heads buried into each other's shoulder. His groan was interrupted by the opening elevator door. He quickly threw a cloth over the painting and turned to his visitor, paint brush still in hand. "Nat!"
Natalie stepped into the loft, a bakery bag in one hand and a croissant in the other. "Sorry, I didn't drop by after work. I've been standing on my feet all night. All I wanted was to get home and crawl into bed. So I thought I'd just check on you on my way to the lab tonight." Natalie took a bite from her croissant. Nodding at the paint brush in his hand, she added, "I see, you've found something to do after all."
Nick smiled at her sheepishly. "Well, I started on it this afternoon. It didn't turn out very well, though."
"May I see it?" Before Nick could object she had lifted the cloth and studied the painting. "You're probably right. Not that I want to criticize you, Nick, but to me the second person doesn't look very female. Maybe you should round it out a little bit and make the arm less muscular." When Nick remained silent and tense at her side, she added, "Unless you were intending to draw two males, of course."
"Actually I didn't intend to paint any discernible figures," Nick sighed. "I started out with random lines and when I regarded it as a whole, this was the result."
"Hmm, maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something," Nat suggested.
"I don't think so," Nick declined the idea immediately.
"Well, you have two more nights to improve the painting." Nat padded his shoulder lightly and walked back to the elevator. "I've got to run. I'll see if I can manage to come by after work."
After the lift had begun its descent, Nick turned back to his easel, but tensed in mid-step. "What do you want, Lacroix?"
Lacroix stepped from beneath the staircase into the open loft. "I believe the question is, what do you want, Nicholas."
"I want to be left alone," Nick replied.
"Your art work suggests otherwise." Lacroix studied the canvas with a slight smile playing around his lips. "For all her medical expertise, your good doctor knows nothing about art, doesn't she? Or rather, she knows nothing about you and your desires."
"If you have a point, Lacroix, make it. I need to get back to painting. Nat made some really good suggestions, which I should take into consideration."
Raising an eyebrow, Lacroix pulled a tape from his pocket. "You left this in the sound booth. I must say, I found it rather inspiring."
Nick's eyes widened. In his hasty departure the night before, he had completely forgotten about the tapes. "What about the others?"
"You know where they are. Come and retrieve them. I'm not your messenger." Lacroix vanished in a movement of displaced air, leaving the tape on the table.
Nick exhaled and turned his attention back to his painting. Yet, before his brush touched the canvas, his eyes returned to the tape. Curiosity prompted him to listen to what Lacroix had deemed inspiring. From the date written on the tape, he recognized it as one of those he hadn't listened to at the station. Against his better judgement, he popped the tape into the stereo and pressed the play-button.
"The first sip is like an explosion. You taste everything. I know his dreams, his fears, his loves.
Feel myself against him. Taste my own blood returning through his. He's younger than me, a crusader, turned away from the light. I can taste enthusiasm in his veins. Sweet. His hunger for me. I died a hundred times in his arms. He dies in mine, he dies in mine, he dies in mine."
As the voice turned more and more agitated, the recording stopped. Nick stared at the stereo, his eyes laced with gold. He quickly dashed to the refrigerator and fetched a bottle from the shelf, emptying it in hasty gulps.
The cow's blood didn't even begin to match the sensations described on the tape. Nick placed the empty bottle on the table and shoved it away in disgust. It was so bland. There were no feelings, no thoughts, no history. Nothing that satisfied his hunger to feel life.
Three hundred years ago, he would have sought out a mortal to feed on. But that was out of the question now. He would never revert to that phase, no matter how strong the craving became. Not as long as there were other ways to deal with his needs.
But were there other ways? A year ago, he would have gone to Janette. They would have shared a night of passion, revelling in their mutual needs. Although Janette kept assuring him that she liked it when he needed her, he always felt that he was using her, just like he had always felt used by Lacroix.
With her gone, his options were limited. He could still go to the Raven. He knew there were plenty of his kind who wouldn't object to a tryst in the backroom. He had always received inviting looks when he visited the club.
Nick sighed. The night was still young, and he had plenty of time to spare. He donned his leather coat and left through the skylight.
* * *
The Raven was busier this night. He moved slowly through the crowd towards the bar, unconsciously falling into a predatory mode. A young woman with long curly dark hair caught his eye. She sat alone at the bar, her spaghetti strap dress revealing an inviting portion of her shoulder. As he approached her, he noticed that she was rather young, hardly a century.
"You look hungry," she observed and pushed her glass towards him. "Wanna share?"
"I didn't come for the house special," Nick stated with a meaningful glance at her neck.
"Right. You're Nicholas. I've heard about your diet. That cannot be healthy."
"Do I look unhealthy to you?" Nick replied with a lop-sided grin, leaning closer.
"No, you don't," she confessed. "In fact, you look ravishing." She met his lips in a lingering kiss. "Say, Nicholas, is your diet truly limited to cows or do you make exceptions?"
Smiling against her lips, he whispered, "I do make exceptions, occasionally." To emphasize his words, he nipped slightly at her upper lip.
They continued to kiss while they moved towards the door to the backroom.
"I wouldn't recommend taking him back there," a smooth voice interrupted them as they reached the door.
Startled to find his master so close beside him, Nick hissed, "Leave us alone, Lacroix!"
Unimpressed, Lacroix pried the young vampire from Nick's embrace. "Trust me, you do not want to be on the receiving end of Nicholas' passion." Turning to his son, he reminded him, "Have you forgotten what happened the last time you attempted to make love to one of us?"
"I was possessed by a demon!" Nick protested, which earned him a doubtful look by the woman.
"Nicholas does have a tendency for violence," Lacroix explained to her in a conspiratorial tone. "Unless you enjoy being choked…"
The woman looked at Nick aghast and hurried away.
"I thought so," Lacroix remarked.
"I wouldn't have hurt her," Nick objected. "I merely wanted-"
"I know exactly what you want, Nicholas," Lacroix breathed. "And it's not going to happen in a shabby backroom."
Nick stood rooted by the door to the backroom, staring at the man in front of him.
Lacroix used his fingertips to lift Nick's chin. "Hmm, ravishing, indeed," he observed. "Why don't you go ahead upstairs and I will join you shortly?"
Almost in trance, Nick backed away and headed out of the club. Unlike Janette who had occupied quarters adjacent to the club on the ground floor, Lacroix had moved into an apartment on the upper level of the brick building. The stairwell was accessible through the side door from the alley. There was also an access directly from the club, but Nick needed the fresh air to clear his thoughts.
He was aware that Lacroix had granted him the chance to opt out. He could simply head home and continue to feel miserable. Or he could go through with what he had come for and satisfy his needs. He wouldn't even have to worry about using someone since he had never felt this way about Lacroix.
He slipped into the side door and entered the apartment. Having never been here before, Nick took in the mixture of familiar and new furnishings. He recognized a chess set of exquisitely carved wooden figures on a side table. It had been a gift from him almost two hundred years ago. He had always enjoyed the challenge of playing against Lacroix. Nick picked up the white knight and admired its craftsmanship.
"I didn't know you still had this," Nick commented as he sensed Lacroix's arrival.
"I still have the set, however, I have found myself with a lack of worthy opponents lately." Lacroix took the figure from Nick and placed it back on the board, his hand lingering a moment on Nick's in the process.
Electrified by the touch, Nick's eyes turned briefly golden. Embarrassed at the intensity of his reaction to a simple touch, he turned his head to the side.
"Don't," Lacroix breathed, letting his own eyes turn amber. Opening his collar, he closed the distance between them and led Nick's head towards his neck, while he nibbled playfully at the skin covering Nick's jugular vein.
Nick shivered as the scent of Lacroix's blood called to him. Aroused by Lacroix's actions on his neck, he was no longer able to resist the siren call of the ancient's blood. He slipped his teeth into the inviting vein and took a careful sip. Immediately his senses were assaulted by a wave of desire. He revelled in the taste and buried his fangs deeper into the vein, hardly perceiving Lacroix's bite into his own neck. His legs gave way by the intensity of the emotions he perceived, but Lacroix held him with strong arms, lowering them gently to the floor in front of the fireplace.
* * *
When Nick woke in the huge four-poster bed, he was well aware that something was different compared to previous encounters with his master. First of all, he wasn't alone. Lacroix lay stretched out beside him, his head propped up on an elbow, regarding him with an unreadable expression, although Nick detected a hint of vulnerability in his deep blue eyes.
Nick knew the cause for that sentiment. He had tasted his fear of losing him in the ancient's blood. And he knew that Lacroix considered any form of fear a weakness, and something he wasn't accustomed to associate with himself.
He had also tasted Lacroix's all-consuming unconditional love. The intensity was almost frightening. It left him light-headed and wonderfully spoiled. His lips curved into a broad smile.
"Don't get any ideas, Nicholas," the elder vampire warned.
"Why have I never tasted any of this before?" Nick wondered. As far as he knew, Lacroix's blood had always been a thorough history lesson, covering all periods from ancient Rome to the beginning of the 13th century.
"You were supposed to learn something. By the time we had covered the history part, you refused to join me anymore."
Nick was internally grateful that Lacroix hadn't forced the issue. "Why now?"
"Because you felt forsaken, Nicholas. With Janette's departure you had no one left to confide in. I learned all this a couple of months ago when I gave you my blood in the hospital. Although you were unconscious at the time you must have picked up some feelings since you came to me afterwards. You knew there are some needs in our nature your mortal doctor can neither satisfy nor understand."
Nick cast his eyes down, only too aware of the truth of that statement. "Unconditional, huh?"
"I'd rather take you the way you are than not have you at all."
Nick was stunned by the compromise Lacroix proposed. "Even if I continue to search for a way to become mortal?"
"You may continue your search if that makes your doctor happy, but we both know what a waste of eternity that is with my blood in your system."
"I thought you said there's no such thing as wasting eternity because we have plenty of it," Nick reminded him.
"So you did listen to me after all," Lacroix observed with mocking astonishment. "When I said that, I had no idea you would pick such a tedious occupation as playing cop."
"It's not tedious. I get to hunt criminals almost every night," Nick argued.
"Perhaps, but you do not finish, which leaves you unsatisfied and needy for more."
Nick leaned closer and stated in a conspiratorial tone, "That's why I keep you around." He playfully nipped at the ancient's neck before dashing out of the bed. He came as far as the bathroom door when an arm snaked around him, bending his head to the side. Instead of the vicious bite Nick had expected, Lacroix licked his tongue sensuously along the column of Nick's neck before slipping his teeth gently into the vein.
Nick pried Lacroix's arm loose and bit swiftly into the wrist. When the ancient paused, Nick lapped the remaining drops from the wrist before turning around. The look on Lacroix's face was priceless, a rare mixture of confusion and astonishment. Nick grinned, quite aware of Lacroix's inner conflict. The elder vampire was questioning his decision to reveal the depth of his emotions to Nick. While he was having issues that Nick used this shamelessly to his advantage, Lacroix was too delighted at Nick's response to re-establish his former standing.
"I should be going," Nick stated and watched as Lacroix's expression turned into a frown.
"It's nearly dawn. You could spend the day," he suggested.
"I could, but I won't," Nick remained steadfast. "I have a painting to finish." He slipped into the bathroom to make himself presentable. On his return he found Lacroix glowering in front of the bathroom door. Ignoring him, Nick donned his coat and walked to the door. He stopped as he passed the chessboard. "Do you want me to drop by for a game tonight?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Lacroix raised one eyebrow and inclined his head. "Very well, Nicholas."
Nick nodded and left, quickly flying the distance to the loft.
* * *
He entered through the skylight to escape the approaching dawn and reached the floor at the same time as Natalie stepped from the elevator. "Hey, Nat," he greeted her and made a dash for the remote to close all blinds.
"I could have sworn you weren't here when I opened the door," Nat remarked, startled at his sudden appearance.
"Maybe I wasn't," he replied with a grin which caused her to role her eyes.
"Well, where were you?"
"I was with - a friend," Nick said after a brief hesitation.
Natalie studied him closely. He seemed less gloomy than on the previous evening. "See, I keep telling you, going out more often is good for you," she reminded him with a smile.
Nick returned the smile, secretly wondering whether she would still approve if she knew who his company had been. "My doctor's wish is my command," he said with a courtly bow.
Yep, definitely less gloomy, Nat observed.
"Do you want to stay and watch a movie?" Nick asked.
"Nick, it's six in the morning. I need to get home," Nat declined. "I just wanted to make sure you're all right. You had me worried last night."
Nick stepped forward and reached for her hands. "Nat, I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me." He placed kisses on each of her hands to reassure her and to show his gratitude for her concern.
Natalie regarded him with a smile. Her worry seemed indeed unfounded. He looked great and appeared to be full of energy. Quite the opposite of her own state. After a busy night at the morgue she felt tired and drawn. Damn mortality, she smirked. "Well, I'm glad at least one of us feels energized," she lamented with a yawn. "I definitely need some sleep."
Nick kissed her brow and opened the elevator door for her. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."
After the lift had begun its descent, Nick retrieved a glass from the board and filled it from the fridge. Stepping in front of the easel, he studied his painting thoughtfully while sipping from his glass. As he didn't feel tired yet, he prepared a batch of oils and continued to work on the canvas.
Around noon, he put the brush aside, a satisfying smile playing around his lips. He had added more detail to the figures, a bunch of golden hair to the one, and short cropped light hair to the other. He wondered briefly how Schanke might have interpreted his painting. The detective had surprised him once with unexpected insight about modern art. He missed him. But he found solace in the scene depicted on the canvas. He wasn't alone.
* * *
After his evening meal of bovine, Nick wrapped the canvas into protective paper and took it with him down to the Caddy. He parked in front of the Raven, retrieved the package from the trunk and entered the club where he stopped on the stairs, searching for Lacroix. He found him at the bar, gazing at him with a pleased expression. Once their eyes met, Nick nodded towards the door and left the club to enter Lacroix's apartment.
The elder vampire arrived a short time later with a bottle of what Nick suspected to be an exquisite vintage in hand. "Nicholas." He moved to the sideboard and retrieved two goblets. Holding the bottle up for Nick's inspection, he offered, "A drink?"
Nick's eyes lingered a moment on the label. "I'll pass," he declined and sat down at the table where the chess board was already set up.
Lacroix inclined his head in acceptance of Nick's choice and filled one goblet for himself. After replacing the cork on the bottle, he opened his cuff and bit into his wrist.
Nick tensed as the scent of his master's blood filled the room. "What are you doing?"
"I'm offering you a variety you cannot refuse." Lacroix held the second glass under his dripping wrist. "Drinking alone is hardly sociable." He carried both glasses to the table and slid the one filled with his blood over to Nicholas.
Nick stared at the offering before grinning broadly. Ingesting Lacroix's blood during the game would give him a rare insight into Lacroix's strategies. "You're right," Nick said in response to Lacroix's questioningly raised eyebrow. "I cannot refuse."
Looking pleased, Lacroix raised his goblet in a toast. "To companionship."
Nick joined into the toast, closing his eyes briefly as the rich essence touched his tongue. When he opened them again, Lacroix had already made his opening move.
* * *
"I don't recall that we reached this before," Nick said and moved his king out of danger. After playing for hours they had reached a stalemate.
"Indeed," Lacroix agreed, leaning back to study Nicholas over steepled fingers. "It does bear a certain semblance to our present situation, don't you think?"
Lacroix was right. Nick still refused to drink human blood, yet he had gone to Lacroix for his baser needs. Lacroix had accepted his choice in diet, while revelling in Nick's companionship. Yet, the question remained, was it enough? Was Lacroix able to accept him on his own terms, without trying to interfere with his job and his mortal friends?
"Your companionship is all I ever wanted, Nicholas," Lacroix said, apparently quite aware of Nick's doubts.
Nick emptied the goblet that had been refilled twice during their game. The blood said otherwise. What Lacroix wanted was far more than mere companionship, but he was willing to take only as much as Nick was willing to give as long as he was a part of Nick's life. It was a delicate balance and Nick wasn't sure how long both were able to stick to their resolutions, given their tempers. "I would like this to last," he said.
"Eternal companionship?" Lacroix asked, hopefully.
"Maybe more..." Nick whispered and opened the top button of his shirt. They stood in sync from the table. A heartbeat later their teeth found their targets in each other's veins.
* * *
Lacroix woke around noon and reached out for his son. Instead of the smooth body, his hand came in touch with something solid. Startled, he sat up. Nicholas must have left before dawn. In his stead Lacroix discovered the canvas Nicholas had been working on during the previous nights. He stared in awe at the work of art that depicted himself and Nicholas in a passionate feeding embrace. He wondered how much of this motif was owed to Nicholas' ingestion of his blood prior to finishing the painting. Of one thing he was certain though: last night Nicholas had not come to him to satisfy his needs, he had come because he wanted it.
* * *
"Welcome back, Nick." Captain Reese studied his detective as he breezed into the precinct. He seemed definitely more relaxed than before. Reese was glad he had insisted that Nick take the days off, knowing his top detective had been on the brink of snapping. The erratic behaviour he had shown during the investigation of the video game murder had been hint enough. There was something about this detective that caused Reese to be on his guard.
The ringing phone interrupted his thoughts. "Reese."
"Thank you for granting Nicholas the time off," a soft voice spoke from the receiver.
"I merely insisted that department regulations were upheld."
"Of course. I'm so glad we concur, Captain."
FIN
__________________________________________________
Notes:
Canon:
Besides Francesca, this story contains references to the following episodes:
Trophy Girl (Tracy gets 3 days off after killing a suspect)
Crazy Love (Nick feeds from Janette)
Sons of Belial (Nick is possessed by a demon)
Night in Question (Lacroix gives Nick his blood in the hospital)
Feeding the Beast (Schanke analyzes Nick's painting)
Games Vampires Play (Nick's erratic behaviour during the investigation)
Historical background:
Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, aka Madame de Pompadour was a member of the French court, and was the official chief mistress of Louis XV from 1745 to her death in 1764. She wielded considerable power and control behind the scenes. Her importance was such that she was approached in 1755 by Wenzel Anton Graf Kaunitz, a prominent Austrian diplomat, asking her to intervene in the negotiations which led to the Treaty of Versailles. This was the beginning of the Diplomatic Revolution, which saw France allied to former enemy Austria. When another of the king's mistresses, Marie-Louise O'Murphy de Boisfaily attempted to replace her around 1754, the younger and less experienced rival was married off to an Auvergne nobleman in 1755.
Fandom: Forever Knight
Characters: Nick, Lacroix, Natalie, Captain Reese
Word Count: 8053
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Forever Knight and its characters were created by Barney Cohen and J.D. Parriott and are copyright to Sony/Tristar. None of the characters in this story belongs to me. I'm just borrowing them temporarily. No infringement intended. No profit is being made. Part of the dialogue is taken directly from "Francesca", written by Gillian Horvath.
Summary: Memories of Francesca trigger suppressed desires in Nick.
Author's Note: For foxy11814 with the prompt Nick/Lacroix: "A realization of what is wanted and needed".
Lyrics: "Conversation" by Joni Mitchell
But friends are friends forever So hard to change their role Laugh with
him, cry together A friend feels so old Hey friend, it feels so whole
But you keep your feelings deep inside You talk of them and think of
pride Now is the wrong time But maybe if a dozen days are warm and right
You'll hear him say "I've wanted you baby for such a long time"
He comes for conversation I comfort him sometimes Comfort and
consultation He knows that's what he'll find
Acknowledgements: Special thanks to Walt and Doris for beta reading, to foxy11814 for the inspiring prompt, and to larah33 for creating the opportunity to write this story.
Timeline: Season 3, immediately after "Francesca"
Stalemate
by PJ
April 2012
"I don't need time off," Nick insisted.
Captain Reese leaned heavily on his desk and released a sigh. "You know the drill, Nick. I didn't make up the rules. It's standard procedure. You've killed a man, you get three days off in order to get it out of your system."
"I didn't kill him, it was an accident," Nick objected.
"You fought; he ended up with a battle axe in his chest. Don't tell me he pierced himself."
Nick opened his mouth to contradict, but thought better of it. Frank Lopietro had indeed pierced himself, but only because Nick had left his spot at vampire speed. Frank had advanced on him with a burning torch and the momentum had driven him onto the battle axe. But that was something Nick couldn't write into his report. So he had mentioned a fight and erased the memeory of Lisa Kadlec, the only surviving witness.
"Listen, Nick, we all know that you saved Dr. Kadlec's life in the process. IA won't make an issue. This case has been extremely weird and left us all a bit rattled. I think you can use the time off. Even your partner has taken a week's leave."
The Captain was right. This case had him rattled. And that was precisely why he preferred to keep himself distracted with work instead of sitting alone in the loft where he had to deal with the unbidden memories this case had stirred up.
"Of course, if you'd rather prefer three days of desk duty…" the Captain added.
Nick looked at him askance.
"Thought so," Reese nodded. "I don't want to see you here before Thursday."
Reluctantly, Nick left the office. Before heading out, he made his way down to the evidence room and retrieved a bag of tapes from one of the boxes.
* * *
"Male, Caucasian, 53 years ---" Natalie stopped the recorder when she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. Turning towards the door, she was startled to see Nick firmly rooted in the middle of the room.
"Hi," he said sheepishly.
"Your case?" Natalie pointed at the half-covered body on the slab.
Nick shook his head. "Reese ordered me three days off in order to deal with killing Francesca."
Natalie studied him closely. "You don't seem too happy about it. I wish my boss would grant me extra days off."
Nick shrugged. "It might be appropriate for mortals, but it's not really necessary in my case."
"Are you sure? You keep referring to him as Francesca. Maybe you do need time to sort that out."
"No," Nick shook his head. "I'd rather not think about her any longer."
Natalie creased her brow. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"I'm fine," Nick said evasively. "Do you want to drop by after you've finished here?"
"Video night? I'd love to, but unfortunately I've got two more of these piled up. I won't be finished before dawn." Disappointment was evident in her voice.
Nick frowned.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just unexpected to have three nights off. I'm not exactly sure what to do."
Natalie stared at him, flabbergasted. "Don't you have laundry or cleaning or similar things to do? - I guess not," she added when Nick gave her a clueless look.
* * *
After casting his jacket onto the coat rack and storing his holster in his desk drawer, Nick opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle. He reached for a glass, used his teeth to remove the cork and poured. He hesitated before taking a sip. He wasn't really hungry, but this was his routine when he came home from work in the morning. Only, it wasn't morning. He hadn't been gone more than two hours and the entire night still lay ahead of him.
Settling down on the couch, Nick picked up the paper from the end table and scanned the theatre listings. Of course, no shows on Mondays, he frowned. A year ago, he would have spent a night like this in Janette's company at the Raven. But with her gone, he was reluctant to visit the club, knowing that a confrontation with his master was usually inevitable.
Nick took a huge sip from his glass and regarded it critically. He probably owed Lacroix an update on what had happened to Francesca. He might as well get it over now. He emptied the remainder of his drink and grabbed his coat.
* * *
"Tonight's meditation is dedicated to an old friend. They say friends are friends forever, and so, unchangeable are their roles. You laugh with him and cry together. A friend feels so old, only he can make you feel whole. But you keep your feelings deep inside. You talk of them and think of pride. Now is the wrong time, but maybe if a dozen nights are warm and right you'll hear him say 'I've wanted you for such a long time'. Come to me for conversation, mon ami. The Nightcrawler provides comfort and consultation. You know that's what you'll find..."
* * *
Nick paused on top of the stairs. It was a slow night at the Raven, the dance floor only scarcely filled. Lacroix was nowhere in sight, but Nick sensed his presence nearby. He was probably doing his show in the broadcast booth at the back of the club. He sauntered over to the bar and found an empty spot at the end, the place Janette had usually occupied.
Without being prompted, the bartender placed a drink in front of him, but Nick held up his hand to refuse. "Thank you, I'm not thirsty."
"This is a bar, Nick. I don't want to get in trouble for neglecting the needs of a customer."
Nick sighed, well aware of the contents in the glass in front of him. This bottle had been kept separately from the rest. The rich aroma that assaulted his senses spoke of the high quality that was a given in Lacroix's private stock. It was tempting, especially after listening to the minute description of freezing a person's emotions in the blood. He had hardly been able to keep his eyes from changing when he had listened to the tape in Reese's office.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
"The timing is very important. The knife slides home in a single stroke and freezes time, pouring everything they're feeling into their blood. They're caught between lust and fear. When I taste their blood I taste that, their lust for me, their fear of me, there is nothing sweeter.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Nick blinked several times and pushed the full glass out of his reach.
"Is something wrong with that vintage?"
Nick stiffened at the purring voice close to his ear.
"My supplier assured me it was exquisite."
Nick turned to face his master. "Yes, Lacroix, there is something wrong with it. I didn't order it."
"It's on the house," Lacroix supplied in a generous tone.
"I don't want it."
"Of, course, you're on duty." Lacroix's voice turned mocking as he reached for the glass and raised it to his own lips.
Nick's eyes followed the movement and focused on the sensuous lips that parted slightly as Lacroix took a generous sip from the blood. "I've been suspended for three nights for killing Francesca," he finally stated.
Raising his eyebrows, Lacroix placed the half empty glass on the counter. "Isn't that a bit late? You killed her 240 years ago. Do you still believe in this reincarnation theory?"
"You haven't heard the tapes. It was her. And you were right, she didn't remember me fondly."
"Tapes?"
"Recordings from the sessions with a psychiatrist who applied past life regression. Forensics uncovered them at Frank Lopietro's apartment. I took them. They're still in the trunk of my car." Nick jumped from his seat and headed out of the club. A minute later he was back, holding a sealed evidence bag up in front of him. Motioning Lacroix to follow, he preceded him to the sound booth.
"This doesn't go over the air, does it?" Nick asked as he popped a tape into the player.
"I suppose, there was a reason why you removed them from mortal ears?" When Nick remained silent, Lacroix assured him, "No, this does not go over the air."
Nick nodded and pressed the play-button, watching Lacroix closely.
"I've lived here almost 400 years. It is my home. The bed is walnut with ivory linen sheets and a square cornered canopy with sheer curtains and green velvet that matches the drapes. I keep the curtains drawn at the daytime but at night I can see the moon through the window over the bureau. I keep the men downstairs, but the others, the ones like me, I bring here. Someone's here now.
'Lucien. It's been so long. And who is this fair traveller?'
'Nicholas Chévalier. Nicholas, allow me to introduce you to one of your sisters. Comtesse du Montaigne.'"
Much to his satisfaction, Nick observed the surprise that flashed across Lacroix's face.
"'The Nicholas of whom I've heard so much? You did not do him justice.'
'I hope this doesn't inconvenience you, Francesca, but we found ourselves in urgent need to travel.'"
Nick's lips curved into a smile and he found the same hint of amusement reflected on Lacroix's face.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Paris 1755
"Well, Nicholas, have you chosen your meal for tonight?" Lacroix inquired in a low voice, leaning closer to his protégé.
Nicholas Chévalier eyed the parade of young ladies filing into the ballroom with unconcealed interest. "It's hard to choose when there's so much on the menu."
"Perhaps I should choose for you," Lacroix offered seductively. "An hors d'œuvre to gnaw on, followed by a far more satisfying main course?"
"Why should I waste my time with the hors d'œuvre when the main course is what truly satisfies me?" Nicholas asked in return.
"Because my impatient child, there is no such thing as wasting time when you have eternity. There is however a certain pleasure in anticipation. The hors d'œuvre is supposed to whet your appetite for the main course."
"I am already hungry, Lacroix," Nicholas pointed out.
"All the more will you appreciate tonight's treat," Lacroix assured him and stepped up to a young lady upon whom Nicholas' eyes had lingered during the last minutes. Nicholas watched as he whispered something into her ear. Then he led her through the arched doorway onto the terrace.
About ten minutes later, Lacroix returned. Nicholas was somewhat surprised to see the girl still on his arm. She looked a bit flushed but otherwise unharmed.
"Nicholas, allow me to introduce you to Comtesse Giselle. She has been eager to meet you."
Nicholas raised her hand to his lips and graced her with a seductive smile. "Enchanté, Comtesse. May I engage you for the minuet?"
The girl inclined her head in consent and allowed Nicholas to lead her onto the dance floor, while her eyes lingered a moment longer on Lacroix.
Nicholas led her gracefully through the slow steps. "Is this your first visit at court?" he inquired.
"Oui, my aunt and I arrived this morning from Orléans. I was hoping to be appointed lady-in-waiting to the Queen."
Nicholas lifted her chin with his finger tips and smiled at her knowingly. "You're hoping to catch the eye of the king," he observed. When she blushed, he added in a low confidential tone, "You will have more chances to meet the king when you aspire to become lady-in-waiting to the Royal Mistress."
"Is that so?" the girl asked, highly interested. Then her gaze focused on something behind Nicholas. "Where is Monsieur Lacroix going with my aunt?"
Nicholas turned around and met Lacroix's eyes for a moment. A knowing smile passed between them before the elder vampire led his companion out of the room. "She looks more like your sister than your aunt," Nicholas commented. "I assume he's taking her on a stroll in the moonlit garden."
"She's my mother's younger sister. She raised me after my parents died." After a melancholy pause she added, "A stroll in the moonlight sounds wonderful."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Nicholas smiled and led her into the garden. Sensing his master's presence to his left, Nicholas turned his steps to the right. When he reached a secluded passage that was concealed from view by overgrown bushes, he turned toward Giselle and brushed his hand gently along the side of her face. "You're far too fair to become mistress to a lusty king," he observed.
"Monsieur Lacroix mentioned he could introduce me to ---"
Nicholas grabbed her chin tighter. "You, ma belle, mention Monsieur Lacroix far too often in my presence," he hissed into her ear before biting into the vein at her neck.
Her hot blood rushed into his mouth. With the first swallow he sensed it. Desire. Overwhelming desire directed at his master. He revelled in the all too familiar sensation he had often experienced himself.
All too soon, the fountain ceased and the girl hung lifeless in his arms, leaving him hungry for more. He wondered what Lacroix had done to evoke such feelings in her. Within the ten minutes he had been alone with her, he must have instigated a longing that didn't abate during the time she spent with Nicholas.
Nicholas stared at the body in his arms. An hors d'œuvre indeed. He cleaned his lips with the back of his hand. Lifting the body, he quickly flew the distance to the Seine where he dropped the body unceremoniously into the water, his mind already on the promised main course. He returned instantly, landing on the balcony that belonged to the suite he and Lacroix occupied in a remote wing in the Palace of Versailles. He stormed into the parlour, eyes ablaze. "Lacroix!" he roared.
Lacroix turned around and regarded his child with open affection. Sensing his hunger, he opened his collar in deliberate slow motion and found Nicholas' eyes immediately focused on his neck. "You still look hungry, mon fils. Have you found your meal unsatisfying?"
"The meal was fine. It was her feelings that left me wanting for more."
"Are you certain they were her feelings and not your own that are responsible for your current need?"
"This has nothing to do with anyone's need, it's what I want," Nicholas proclaimed passionately.
Lacroix pulled Nicholas' head towards his neck.
Without hesitation, the younger vampire plunged his fangs into the vein. The first sip was like
an explosion. He tasted everything. 1,700 years of memories.
Lacroix tore the fabric from Nicholas' neck and pierced the skin. Holding tight, he pushed Nicholas toward the bedroom until they tumbled onto the mattress.
Nicholas roared as he lost his hold. Instantly he bit deeply into Lacroix's shoulder, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. He felt Lacroix against him and tasted his own blood returning through his.
* * *
Lacroix eyed his sleeping creation with a tender expression. After initial issues with guilt, Nicholas had turned out magnificently. Under his tutelage, he had become an efficient hunter with eclectic tastes. Yet, Lacroix knew that a part of his former righteousness lay still dormant within him. He could taste it in his blood. Aware of the fine line on which Nicholas walked, Lacroix was careful in the choice of Nicholas' meals. One wrong sip, and Nicholas' conscience would rear its head in alert, destroying everything he had accomplished.
Knowing from experience that the younger vampire would continue to sleep for a couple of hours, Lacroix put on clean clothes and left the suite.
He made his way to the third floor where he knocked at a door. He was immediately admitted by a servant who ushered him into a lady's boudoir.
"Lucien, thank you for coming by," the female occupant of the room greeted him.
Lacroix waited until the servant had retreated before walking up to where she sat at the vanity. "How can I be of assistance, Jeanne Antoinette?" he inquired.
"I need your advice. What would you think of an alliance with Austria?"
"Austria? Against Prussia?" Lacroix asked, highly interested.
"Maria Theresa wants to reclaim Silesia from Prussia. There's been rumours that King George will refuse to aid Austria in a renewed conflict for Silesia as long as Prussia agrees to protect Hanover from us. I've been approached by Prince Kaunitz to bring the matter before the king."
"The Austrian ambassador?"
"You know him?"
"He's a master in the art of diplomacy. The Empress thinks very highly of him and trusts him unconditionally. The very fact that he approaches you, my dear, instead of the king proves his cleverness," Lacroix stated, brushing his finger tip lightly across the bare skin on her shoulder that was partly uncovered by her dress.
"That statement may have been true a decade ago, however, with my fading youth, the king has begun to spend his nights elsewhere," she lamented.
"I thought you took care of that particular problem by arranging the marriage of your rival to a nobleman from Auvergne?"
"Oh Lucien, I wish she were the only problem. There's already another striving to gain the king's favour. Which is why I summoned you tonight. I require the king's undivided attention to propose Prince Kaunitz' plan to him."
Lacroix straightened. "I see. Do you favour a permanent removal?"
A shiver ran through her before she met Lacroix's eyes in the mirror. "I believe that would be for the greater good of France," she proclaimed steadfast.
* * *
Nicholas woke in a tangled mess of soiled linen. The scent of his master's blood permeating from the sheets roused his hunger. With a growl he jumped from the bed and ripped the linens from the mattress, dumping them on a heap in the corner beside the fireplace.
"Ah, Nicholas, you're up. Good." Lacroix observed as he returned.
"Where have you been?" Each time he and Lacroix shared blood to the point of intimacy, he was confused by his master's behaviour afterwards. While he was grateful for the private space granted him by his master's absence, he also felt slightly hurt by Lacroix's apparent indifference to what had transpired between them. He couldn't help feeling used which led him to consider their mutual feeding spree to be wrong.
Lacroix sensed Nicholas' troubled mind and reached out to brush his hand through his hair, comfortingly. Instantly Nicholas snatched his hand and bit into the wrist. Lacroix let him feed a couple of swallows before withdrawing his arm. "Madame has an errand for us tonight," he stated.
"I'm not her executioner," Nicholas objected.
"No, but you're hungry. And the Marquise de Lourdes will be the perfect relief from your distress."
"She's beautiful," Nicholas recalled, distractedly. "Isn't she intimate with the king?"
"Not yet, but she's striving to be, which is precisely why Madame wishes her engaged elsewhere tonight. She needs to discuss stately matters with the king." Lacroix regarded his child with an amused expression. "From your preoccupation I gather that you no longer object to the assignment?"
Nicholas' smile was enough to convince him that the king would see no more of his newest mistress.
* * *
It was that same smile that caused the Marquise de Lourdes to abandon her plans to meet with the king and take a complete stranger to her private room in the king's palace.
Nicholas took his time to worship her face, showering her with kisses. Once he'd reached her bare shoulder, he could no longer resist and bit deeply into her pulsing vein.
He tasted her life and her loves and stopped abruptly. She had already been with the king. In fact, she had been expecting him to come to her chamber this very night. Nicholas looked up in alarm as he heard approaching footsteps. He jumped from the bed and melted into the darkness as the door was thrust open.
"Mon dieu!" he heard a male voice gasping. An instant later, shouts were heard and the palace guards alerted. Nicholas used the confusion to speed through the increasing crowd that had been attracted by the commotion. He dashed through the palace towards his rooms.
"Lacroix!" he shouted as he reached the door and came to an abrupt halt. Lacroix stood with his back to the window, surrounded by guards.
"Ah, Nicholas. A chamber maid discovered these linens in the corner. And now the good Cardinal wishes to know whom I have slaughtered last night. Would you care to offer an explanation?"
Nicholas looked from Lacroix to the familiar bloody sheets on the floor, which he had forgotten to dispose of. The guards immediately shoved Nicholas by use of halberds toward Lacroix. Nicholas tensed and prepared to fight, when he caught sight of the cross the Cardinal was wearing. "Those sheets are not the only problem we have," he whispered instead.
"Indeed? Do tell," Lacroix returned, unfazed.
He didn't have to. More guards entered the room. "He's the one. He was seen leaving the ballroom with her!" the leading officer pointed at Nicholas.
During the ensuing confusion among the two groups of guards, Nicholas leaned closer to Lacroix. "I was interrupted by the king's arrival."
"In that case, I recommend a tactical retreat," Lacroix whispered back with a nod towards the window behind them. A second later they crashed through the window into the night, leaving the guards stunned behind.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
'In urgent need to travel', indeed, Nick thought wryly. They had left Paris that same night, fleeing south to Avignon. He turned his attention back to the tape.
"We're drawn together from the first time I see him. Even in the shadow of our master he's the one I see. I had to have him."
Nick stopped the tape, looking slightly embarrassed to the floor.
"She wasn't the first to think so of you, Nicholas," Lacroix breathed, his voiced laced with innuendo.
"Are you now convinced that it was her?" Nick demanded, ignoring the remark.
"I must say the dialogue suggests a certain degree of inside knowledge."
"What does it mean, Lacroix? Will my evil also be transferred to someone else when I die?"
Lacroix placed his glass on the table with a sharp report and grabbed Nick's chin. "That is a question you do not need to concern yourself with," he lectured distinctly. "I suggest however, that you exert more caution in whom you kill since your victims appear to have a tendency to haunt you."
"I'm sorry I killed her. You didn't seem bothered back then. I never understood why. She was your daughter, Lacroix. I thought you cared about family."
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Avignon, 1755
Lacroix woke with a start. He cast out his senses in order to investigate the cause of the disturbance. He received very strong emotions from Nicholas. His child was upset. In 500 years he had gotten used to the sudden mood swings of his son. However, how a day filled with immense passion could turn into the enormous anger he now perceived was even beyond his comprehension.
He donned his clothes, stepped over the body of the musician Francesca had provided for him to dine on and went in search of his wayward son. He froze in mid-step as the sensations changed, and he perceived rage from both his children. They were fighting. Whatever Nicholas had done, it had triggered Francesca's fury. Lacroix felt a sudden dread as he considered Francesca's superior strength due to her age in comparison to Nicholas'. Following the vibrations, he rushed toward the kitchen, prepared to intervene in whatever altercation his children were involved. He increased his speed as he sensed Francesca's determination to kill. As he rounded the corner, he stopped abruptly at the scene in front of him. Francesca lay trapped underneath the gate to the pantry, the wooden bars piercing her chest. Nicholas turned toward him, eyes full of anguish, but apparently unharmed. Lacroix felt too relieved to mourn the loss of his daughter.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
"I inherited an estate at the Côtes du Rhône and a cellar full of finest vintages," Lacroix stated with a shrug, keeping his features carefully schooled.
"Possessions! That's all you care about," Nick spat.
Lacroix's eyes bore into him. "Yes," he said icily. "And I prefer to keep them."
"I'm not your possession!" Nick shot back heatedly, turned on his heels and stormed out of the sound booth. The sound of the door he'd slammed shut reverberated through the club, causing several heads to turn curiously in his direction.
Lacroix closed his eyes briefly, wondering how a civilized conversation between him and his son could have taken such a deteriorating turn. With a frown he pressed the play-button and continued to listen to the tapes.
* * *
Nick pushed the elevator door aside and walked straight to the fridge. He used his teeth to rip the cork from the bottle. After spitting it unceremoniously on the floor, he upended the bottle and drained half its contents before setting it disgustedly on the counter. After reminiscing on the taste of his master, this was utterly dreadful.
He was well aware that he had deliberately ignored the comforting companionship that was building up in the sound booth. Nick knew the evening could have gone differently if he had given in to Lacroix's subtle remarks. He just wasn't ready to give Lacroix the satisfaction of seeing him submit to his needs.
Nick eyed the bottle again. What he needed was more than blood. It was the perverse urge to possess. To plunge his fangs into another being and to learn everything about their lives, their loves, and their dreams. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Nick grabbed the bottle and went upstairs, hoping to sleep it off.
* * *
Around noon Nick gave up trying to find sleep and returned downstairs. He retrieved a new canvas and placed it on the easel. Then he prepared a palette of oils and drew lines at random on the canvas. Painting usually had a soothing effect on his mind. After painting for several hours he stepped back to regard his work. He had aimed for something abstract, yet on closer inspection he could clearly discern the forms of two bodies pressed together in a tight embrace, their heads buried into each other's shoulder. His groan was interrupted by the opening elevator door. He quickly threw a cloth over the painting and turned to his visitor, paint brush still in hand. "Nat!"
Natalie stepped into the loft, a bakery bag in one hand and a croissant in the other. "Sorry, I didn't drop by after work. I've been standing on my feet all night. All I wanted was to get home and crawl into bed. So I thought I'd just check on you on my way to the lab tonight." Natalie took a bite from her croissant. Nodding at the paint brush in his hand, she added, "I see, you've found something to do after all."
Nick smiled at her sheepishly. "Well, I started on it this afternoon. It didn't turn out very well, though."
"May I see it?" Before Nick could object she had lifted the cloth and studied the painting. "You're probably right. Not that I want to criticize you, Nick, but to me the second person doesn't look very female. Maybe you should round it out a little bit and make the arm less muscular." When Nick remained silent and tense at her side, she added, "Unless you were intending to draw two males, of course."
"Actually I didn't intend to paint any discernible figures," Nick sighed. "I started out with random lines and when I regarded it as a whole, this was the result."
"Hmm, maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something," Nat suggested.
"I don't think so," Nick declined the idea immediately.
"Well, you have two more nights to improve the painting." Nat padded his shoulder lightly and walked back to the elevator. "I've got to run. I'll see if I can manage to come by after work."
After the lift had begun its descent, Nick turned back to his easel, but tensed in mid-step. "What do you want, Lacroix?"
Lacroix stepped from beneath the staircase into the open loft. "I believe the question is, what do you want, Nicholas."
"I want to be left alone," Nick replied.
"Your art work suggests otherwise." Lacroix studied the canvas with a slight smile playing around his lips. "For all her medical expertise, your good doctor knows nothing about art, doesn't she? Or rather, she knows nothing about you and your desires."
"If you have a point, Lacroix, make it. I need to get back to painting. Nat made some really good suggestions, which I should take into consideration."
Raising an eyebrow, Lacroix pulled a tape from his pocket. "You left this in the sound booth. I must say, I found it rather inspiring."
Nick's eyes widened. In his hasty departure the night before, he had completely forgotten about the tapes. "What about the others?"
"You know where they are. Come and retrieve them. I'm not your messenger." Lacroix vanished in a movement of displaced air, leaving the tape on the table.
Nick exhaled and turned his attention back to his painting. Yet, before his brush touched the canvas, his eyes returned to the tape. Curiosity prompted him to listen to what Lacroix had deemed inspiring. From the date written on the tape, he recognized it as one of those he hadn't listened to at the station. Against his better judgement, he popped the tape into the stereo and pressed the play-button.
"The first sip is like an explosion. You taste everything. I know his dreams, his fears, his loves.
Feel myself against him. Taste my own blood returning through his. He's younger than me, a crusader, turned away from the light. I can taste enthusiasm in his veins. Sweet. His hunger for me. I died a hundred times in his arms. He dies in mine, he dies in mine, he dies in mine."
As the voice turned more and more agitated, the recording stopped. Nick stared at the stereo, his eyes laced with gold. He quickly dashed to the refrigerator and fetched a bottle from the shelf, emptying it in hasty gulps.
The cow's blood didn't even begin to match the sensations described on the tape. Nick placed the empty bottle on the table and shoved it away in disgust. It was so bland. There were no feelings, no thoughts, no history. Nothing that satisfied his hunger to feel life.
Three hundred years ago, he would have sought out a mortal to feed on. But that was out of the question now. He would never revert to that phase, no matter how strong the craving became. Not as long as there were other ways to deal with his needs.
But were there other ways? A year ago, he would have gone to Janette. They would have shared a night of passion, revelling in their mutual needs. Although Janette kept assuring him that she liked it when he needed her, he always felt that he was using her, just like he had always felt used by Lacroix.
With her gone, his options were limited. He could still go to the Raven. He knew there were plenty of his kind who wouldn't object to a tryst in the backroom. He had always received inviting looks when he visited the club.
Nick sighed. The night was still young, and he had plenty of time to spare. He donned his leather coat and left through the skylight.
* * *
The Raven was busier this night. He moved slowly through the crowd towards the bar, unconsciously falling into a predatory mode. A young woman with long curly dark hair caught his eye. She sat alone at the bar, her spaghetti strap dress revealing an inviting portion of her shoulder. As he approached her, he noticed that she was rather young, hardly a century.
"You look hungry," she observed and pushed her glass towards him. "Wanna share?"
"I didn't come for the house special," Nick stated with a meaningful glance at her neck.
"Right. You're Nicholas. I've heard about your diet. That cannot be healthy."
"Do I look unhealthy to you?" Nick replied with a lop-sided grin, leaning closer.
"No, you don't," she confessed. "In fact, you look ravishing." She met his lips in a lingering kiss. "Say, Nicholas, is your diet truly limited to cows or do you make exceptions?"
Smiling against her lips, he whispered, "I do make exceptions, occasionally." To emphasize his words, he nipped slightly at her upper lip.
They continued to kiss while they moved towards the door to the backroom.
"I wouldn't recommend taking him back there," a smooth voice interrupted them as they reached the door.
Startled to find his master so close beside him, Nick hissed, "Leave us alone, Lacroix!"
Unimpressed, Lacroix pried the young vampire from Nick's embrace. "Trust me, you do not want to be on the receiving end of Nicholas' passion." Turning to his son, he reminded him, "Have you forgotten what happened the last time you attempted to make love to one of us?"
"I was possessed by a demon!" Nick protested, which earned him a doubtful look by the woman.
"Nicholas does have a tendency for violence," Lacroix explained to her in a conspiratorial tone. "Unless you enjoy being choked…"
The woman looked at Nick aghast and hurried away.
"I thought so," Lacroix remarked.
"I wouldn't have hurt her," Nick objected. "I merely wanted-"
"I know exactly what you want, Nicholas," Lacroix breathed. "And it's not going to happen in a shabby backroom."
Nick stood rooted by the door to the backroom, staring at the man in front of him.
Lacroix used his fingertips to lift Nick's chin. "Hmm, ravishing, indeed," he observed. "Why don't you go ahead upstairs and I will join you shortly?"
Almost in trance, Nick backed away and headed out of the club. Unlike Janette who had occupied quarters adjacent to the club on the ground floor, Lacroix had moved into an apartment on the upper level of the brick building. The stairwell was accessible through the side door from the alley. There was also an access directly from the club, but Nick needed the fresh air to clear his thoughts.
He was aware that Lacroix had granted him the chance to opt out. He could simply head home and continue to feel miserable. Or he could go through with what he had come for and satisfy his needs. He wouldn't even have to worry about using someone since he had never felt this way about Lacroix.
He slipped into the side door and entered the apartment. Having never been here before, Nick took in the mixture of familiar and new furnishings. He recognized a chess set of exquisitely carved wooden figures on a side table. It had been a gift from him almost two hundred years ago. He had always enjoyed the challenge of playing against Lacroix. Nick picked up the white knight and admired its craftsmanship.
"I didn't know you still had this," Nick commented as he sensed Lacroix's arrival.
"I still have the set, however, I have found myself with a lack of worthy opponents lately." Lacroix took the figure from Nick and placed it back on the board, his hand lingering a moment on Nick's in the process.
Electrified by the touch, Nick's eyes turned briefly golden. Embarrassed at the intensity of his reaction to a simple touch, he turned his head to the side.
"Don't," Lacroix breathed, letting his own eyes turn amber. Opening his collar, he closed the distance between them and led Nick's head towards his neck, while he nibbled playfully at the skin covering Nick's jugular vein.
Nick shivered as the scent of Lacroix's blood called to him. Aroused by Lacroix's actions on his neck, he was no longer able to resist the siren call of the ancient's blood. He slipped his teeth into the inviting vein and took a careful sip. Immediately his senses were assaulted by a wave of desire. He revelled in the taste and buried his fangs deeper into the vein, hardly perceiving Lacroix's bite into his own neck. His legs gave way by the intensity of the emotions he perceived, but Lacroix held him with strong arms, lowering them gently to the floor in front of the fireplace.
* * *
When Nick woke in the huge four-poster bed, he was well aware that something was different compared to previous encounters with his master. First of all, he wasn't alone. Lacroix lay stretched out beside him, his head propped up on an elbow, regarding him with an unreadable expression, although Nick detected a hint of vulnerability in his deep blue eyes.
Nick knew the cause for that sentiment. He had tasted his fear of losing him in the ancient's blood. And he knew that Lacroix considered any form of fear a weakness, and something he wasn't accustomed to associate with himself.
He had also tasted Lacroix's all-consuming unconditional love. The intensity was almost frightening. It left him light-headed and wonderfully spoiled. His lips curved into a broad smile.
"Don't get any ideas, Nicholas," the elder vampire warned.
"Why have I never tasted any of this before?" Nick wondered. As far as he knew, Lacroix's blood had always been a thorough history lesson, covering all periods from ancient Rome to the beginning of the 13th century.
"You were supposed to learn something. By the time we had covered the history part, you refused to join me anymore."
Nick was internally grateful that Lacroix hadn't forced the issue. "Why now?"
"Because you felt forsaken, Nicholas. With Janette's departure you had no one left to confide in. I learned all this a couple of months ago when I gave you my blood in the hospital. Although you were unconscious at the time you must have picked up some feelings since you came to me afterwards. You knew there are some needs in our nature your mortal doctor can neither satisfy nor understand."
Nick cast his eyes down, only too aware of the truth of that statement. "Unconditional, huh?"
"I'd rather take you the way you are than not have you at all."
Nick was stunned by the compromise Lacroix proposed. "Even if I continue to search for a way to become mortal?"
"You may continue your search if that makes your doctor happy, but we both know what a waste of eternity that is with my blood in your system."
"I thought you said there's no such thing as wasting eternity because we have plenty of it," Nick reminded him.
"So you did listen to me after all," Lacroix observed with mocking astonishment. "When I said that, I had no idea you would pick such a tedious occupation as playing cop."
"It's not tedious. I get to hunt criminals almost every night," Nick argued.
"Perhaps, but you do not finish, which leaves you unsatisfied and needy for more."
Nick leaned closer and stated in a conspiratorial tone, "That's why I keep you around." He playfully nipped at the ancient's neck before dashing out of the bed. He came as far as the bathroom door when an arm snaked around him, bending his head to the side. Instead of the vicious bite Nick had expected, Lacroix licked his tongue sensuously along the column of Nick's neck before slipping his teeth gently into the vein.
Nick pried Lacroix's arm loose and bit swiftly into the wrist. When the ancient paused, Nick lapped the remaining drops from the wrist before turning around. The look on Lacroix's face was priceless, a rare mixture of confusion and astonishment. Nick grinned, quite aware of Lacroix's inner conflict. The elder vampire was questioning his decision to reveal the depth of his emotions to Nick. While he was having issues that Nick used this shamelessly to his advantage, Lacroix was too delighted at Nick's response to re-establish his former standing.
"I should be going," Nick stated and watched as Lacroix's expression turned into a frown.
"It's nearly dawn. You could spend the day," he suggested.
"I could, but I won't," Nick remained steadfast. "I have a painting to finish." He slipped into the bathroom to make himself presentable. On his return he found Lacroix glowering in front of the bathroom door. Ignoring him, Nick donned his coat and walked to the door. He stopped as he passed the chessboard. "Do you want me to drop by for a game tonight?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Lacroix raised one eyebrow and inclined his head. "Very well, Nicholas."
Nick nodded and left, quickly flying the distance to the loft.
* * *
He entered through the skylight to escape the approaching dawn and reached the floor at the same time as Natalie stepped from the elevator. "Hey, Nat," he greeted her and made a dash for the remote to close all blinds.
"I could have sworn you weren't here when I opened the door," Nat remarked, startled at his sudden appearance.
"Maybe I wasn't," he replied with a grin which caused her to role her eyes.
"Well, where were you?"
"I was with - a friend," Nick said after a brief hesitation.
Natalie studied him closely. He seemed less gloomy than on the previous evening. "See, I keep telling you, going out more often is good for you," she reminded him with a smile.
Nick returned the smile, secretly wondering whether she would still approve if she knew who his company had been. "My doctor's wish is my command," he said with a courtly bow.
Yep, definitely less gloomy, Nat observed.
"Do you want to stay and watch a movie?" Nick asked.
"Nick, it's six in the morning. I need to get home," Nat declined. "I just wanted to make sure you're all right. You had me worried last night."
Nick stepped forward and reached for her hands. "Nat, I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me." He placed kisses on each of her hands to reassure her and to show his gratitude for her concern.
Natalie regarded him with a smile. Her worry seemed indeed unfounded. He looked great and appeared to be full of energy. Quite the opposite of her own state. After a busy night at the morgue she felt tired and drawn. Damn mortality, she smirked. "Well, I'm glad at least one of us feels energized," she lamented with a yawn. "I definitely need some sleep."
Nick kissed her brow and opened the elevator door for her. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."
After the lift had begun its descent, Nick retrieved a glass from the board and filled it from the fridge. Stepping in front of the easel, he studied his painting thoughtfully while sipping from his glass. As he didn't feel tired yet, he prepared a batch of oils and continued to work on the canvas.
Around noon, he put the brush aside, a satisfying smile playing around his lips. He had added more detail to the figures, a bunch of golden hair to the one, and short cropped light hair to the other. He wondered briefly how Schanke might have interpreted his painting. The detective had surprised him once with unexpected insight about modern art. He missed him. But he found solace in the scene depicted on the canvas. He wasn't alone.
* * *
After his evening meal of bovine, Nick wrapped the canvas into protective paper and took it with him down to the Caddy. He parked in front of the Raven, retrieved the package from the trunk and entered the club where he stopped on the stairs, searching for Lacroix. He found him at the bar, gazing at him with a pleased expression. Once their eyes met, Nick nodded towards the door and left the club to enter Lacroix's apartment.
The elder vampire arrived a short time later with a bottle of what Nick suspected to be an exquisite vintage in hand. "Nicholas." He moved to the sideboard and retrieved two goblets. Holding the bottle up for Nick's inspection, he offered, "A drink?"
Nick's eyes lingered a moment on the label. "I'll pass," he declined and sat down at the table where the chess board was already set up.
Lacroix inclined his head in acceptance of Nick's choice and filled one goblet for himself. After replacing the cork on the bottle, he opened his cuff and bit into his wrist.
Nick tensed as the scent of his master's blood filled the room. "What are you doing?"
"I'm offering you a variety you cannot refuse." Lacroix held the second glass under his dripping wrist. "Drinking alone is hardly sociable." He carried both glasses to the table and slid the one filled with his blood over to Nicholas.
Nick stared at the offering before grinning broadly. Ingesting Lacroix's blood during the game would give him a rare insight into Lacroix's strategies. "You're right," Nick said in response to Lacroix's questioningly raised eyebrow. "I cannot refuse."
Looking pleased, Lacroix raised his goblet in a toast. "To companionship."
Nick joined into the toast, closing his eyes briefly as the rich essence touched his tongue. When he opened them again, Lacroix had already made his opening move.
* * *
"I don't recall that we reached this before," Nick said and moved his king out of danger. After playing for hours they had reached a stalemate.
"Indeed," Lacroix agreed, leaning back to study Nicholas over steepled fingers. "It does bear a certain semblance to our present situation, don't you think?"
Lacroix was right. Nick still refused to drink human blood, yet he had gone to Lacroix for his baser needs. Lacroix had accepted his choice in diet, while revelling in Nick's companionship. Yet, the question remained, was it enough? Was Lacroix able to accept him on his own terms, without trying to interfere with his job and his mortal friends?
"Your companionship is all I ever wanted, Nicholas," Lacroix said, apparently quite aware of Nick's doubts.
Nick emptied the goblet that had been refilled twice during their game. The blood said otherwise. What Lacroix wanted was far more than mere companionship, but he was willing to take only as much as Nick was willing to give as long as he was a part of Nick's life. It was a delicate balance and Nick wasn't sure how long both were able to stick to their resolutions, given their tempers. "I would like this to last," he said.
"Eternal companionship?" Lacroix asked, hopefully.
"Maybe more..." Nick whispered and opened the top button of his shirt. They stood in sync from the table. A heartbeat later their teeth found their targets in each other's veins.
* * *
Lacroix woke around noon and reached out for his son. Instead of the smooth body, his hand came in touch with something solid. Startled, he sat up. Nicholas must have left before dawn. In his stead Lacroix discovered the canvas Nicholas had been working on during the previous nights. He stared in awe at the work of art that depicted himself and Nicholas in a passionate feeding embrace. He wondered how much of this motif was owed to Nicholas' ingestion of his blood prior to finishing the painting. Of one thing he was certain though: last night Nicholas had not come to him to satisfy his needs, he had come because he wanted it.
* * *
"Welcome back, Nick." Captain Reese studied his detective as he breezed into the precinct. He seemed definitely more relaxed than before. Reese was glad he had insisted that Nick take the days off, knowing his top detective had been on the brink of snapping. The erratic behaviour he had shown during the investigation of the video game murder had been hint enough. There was something about this detective that caused Reese to be on his guard.
The ringing phone interrupted his thoughts. "Reese."
"Thank you for granting Nicholas the time off," a soft voice spoke from the receiver.
"I merely insisted that department regulations were upheld."
"Of course. I'm so glad we concur, Captain."
FIN
__________________________________________________
Notes:
Canon:
Besides Francesca, this story contains references to the following episodes:
Trophy Girl (Tracy gets 3 days off after killing a suspect)
Crazy Love (Nick feeds from Janette)
Sons of Belial (Nick is possessed by a demon)
Night in Question (Lacroix gives Nick his blood in the hospital)
Feeding the Beast (Schanke analyzes Nick's painting)
Games Vampires Play (Nick's erratic behaviour during the investigation)
Historical background:
Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, aka Madame de Pompadour was a member of the French court, and was the official chief mistress of Louis XV from 1745 to her death in 1764. She wielded considerable power and control behind the scenes. Her importance was such that she was approached in 1755 by Wenzel Anton Graf Kaunitz, a prominent Austrian diplomat, asking her to intervene in the negotiations which led to the Treaty of Versailles. This was the beginning of the Diplomatic Revolution, which saw France allied to former enemy Austria. When another of the king's mistresses, Marie-Louise O'Murphy de Boisfaily attempted to replace her around 1754, the younger and less experienced rival was married off to an Auvergne nobleman in 1755.