Febris Delirium
By Joy Powell


	"I can't make it in tonight, Grace.  Cross off another sick 
day."  Natalie cradled her head in her arms, while holding the phone 
in a shaky grip.
	"That's three days.   Have you seen the doctor yet?  You sound
horrible."  Grace asked, the concern evident in her tone.  
	"I am a doctor, remember?  I'll be fine,  just need some more 
sleep.  Tell Nick to drop by after his shift and bring me some 
tylenol, okay?"
	"No problem, you take care of yourself.  We'll hold down the 
fort.  Night, Natalie."
	"Bye."  The last croaked out, and she hung the phone up in 
relief. With trembling steps, she made it back to the bed.  She 
blinked at the mess around her, used tissues overflowed from the 
paperbag to the floor below.  When had the pile gotten that high?  
Ugh.  
	In misery, she crawled back under the covers.  Later, she 
thought, she'd pick up the mess, later.   Four nights now,  she's 
lain here, semiconcious, wishing the throbbing behind her eyes would 
go away,  and her nose would clear up enough to breath without 
sounding like a kazoo.  Could she survive another night?  Did she 
want to?   Eyes drifting shut, she sent a silent prayer up for more 
than two hours undisturbed sleep.
	
	She startled awake,  her senses taking a few minutes to 
respond past the panic that her jarred into wakefullness.  Someone 
made noise in her kitchen.  She froze, trying to determine who it 
was, and what they wanted.  Nick?  Was it that late, already?  She 
turned to look at the clock.  6am, if that was Knight, he was late.  
Two and a half hours late, and by now the sun was well up.  
	Now, he'd have to stay the day.  Ugh.  A betraying sneeze 
wrenched itself from her raw nose, and she whimpered an animal 
protest against the pain.   Too hot to stand it anymore, she kicked 
the bedding to the foot of the bed and curled into a shivering fetal 
ball.  Life couldn't get worse than this.   
	The hallway light flicked on, and she realized she was 
wrong.  Agony shot through her sensitive eyes.  "Off!"  She meant to 
scream it at him, instead it came out as a loud rasp.  Nick got the 
idea, the light flicked back off with an acompanied low chuckled.    
She felt him behind her, at the doorway, the mental vibrations she'd 
come to associate with vampires radiated off him in waves tonight.  
	All day with him in the house, all to herself and she was too 
sick to do anything about it.  Not that he ever would anyway,  
knowing him, he wanted her to listen to him whine all day.   Or 
not.   "Unless you plan on putting me out of my misery, or bringing 
me across, you better have tylenol."  God, how pathetic, she sounded 
like a frog;  a half dead frog choking on a horse fly.
	"An interresting proposition, Doctor, or should I 
say...daughter.  I am fresh out of Tylenol."  
	LaCroix, of course, it would be him.  How else could her 
night get any worse without that fiend from hell, inviting himself to 
the nightmare.  "What do you want, LaCroix?  You're not welcome 
here."  She rolled over and felt for the covers as her fever spiked 
again.  Her teeth chattering, she stared up, waiting for him to make 
the next move.
	"You are feverish."  It wasn't a question, and was that 
concern she heard in his voice?  No, it couldn't be.  You're dreaming 
again, Nat thought.  
        This is all just a figment of your imagination.   What was he 
wearing?  She squinted.  Jeans?  Black jeans to be sure, but the 
ancient master vampire in anything as casual as jeans had to be a 
dream.   She watched his tight legs walk over to the bed, and didn't 
protest when he pulled the covers to her chin.  Yep, LaCroix playing 
nursemaid fell under fever induced hallucinations.  Once she realized 
it was just a dream, she smiled innocently up at him.  "So,  where's 
your candy striper dress?"  
	LaCroix hiked a brow.  "I beg your pardon?"
	He sounded offended.  Good.  At least if she had 
hallucinations of people, they should stay in character.  She looked 
back down at the jeans, hoping they would melt into something a 
little more...pink.  "Well, get changed, this is my dream, so move, 
and bring back tylenol."
	He regarded her as though she were a nutcase standing on the 
freeway waving a whip.  "Perhaps I should call the hospital, you are 
truly not well."  
	"Do, and you're a dead man.  Oh wait, you are dead."  She had 
to stop as another coughing fit wracked her body.  "My bad."  His icy 
hand rested on her forehead,  testing her temperature.  The touch was 
a splash of icewater to her brain.  "This isn't a dream, is it, 
LaCroix?"
	He laughed, soft, the first time she'd heard him do so with 
true humor since she'd met him.  "No, Doctor Lambert, this is no 
dream."  
	"Why are you here?"  
	"I was hunting, and took a bullet.  It can wait, however.  I 
don't trust you with a knife at the moment."
	Her mind started to wander again. "You're lucky, LaCroix.  You
probably don't even remember what it feels like to be sick, do you?"  
	"No, it's been too long."  He wiped her brow with the 
sheet.  "You need not suffer like this,  Nicholas is wrong,  
immortality is not damnation.  It is a blessing.  How foolish it is 
to believe that a god wants you to suffer, and even more foolish to 
worship such a twisted ideal."
	"I'm not up for a religious debate right now."  She closed 
her eyes in pain, needing to feel better, no matter the 
cost.  "Please, LaCroix,  get it over with."  She turned her head 
aside, knowing what she was doing, and certain of it.  Sorry, Nick.  
She waited for the cold lips on her neck.   
	"Not so fast, I already have one child who regrets his 
decision. There will be no attempts to go back.  I would have your 
oath, first.  Swear to obey me, and accept me as your brother and 
ally for eternity."
	She swallowed, and stared into those intense blue eyes,  a 
mere handsbreadth from her own.  "I swear."  She sealed her fate with 
those two words.  He smiled, slow, and allowed the change to come 
over him.  He closed his eyes, and a second later, their golden glow 
looked back at her.  
	"Good. Never forget it."  He kneeled behind her, pulling her 
back against him.   He gently bit through to the artery,  calming her 
with a carress.  Hearing the sounds of him swallowing, and growling 
against her back, she relaxed into his embrace.  Her field of vision 
slowly narrowed, going gray and then blacking out completely.   
	At the last possible second, LaCroix pulled away and bit into 
his own wrist.  Coming here this morning, had proved a much better 
decision than he'd ever dreamed possible.  He held the wrist to her 
lips, and smiled when her throat worked to swallow the life giving 
liquid.   He always thought he'd have to force the beautiful Doctor 
to join the club.  It was nice to be wrong.  


	While Natalie slept, LaCroix straightened the apartment, and 
debated his next moves.   He picked up the phone and dialed 
Jeanette's private number at the Raven.  Unless he wanted a mad 
fledgling come nightfall, they needed supplies.  
	Her groggy voice answered, and it didn't sound happy.  "If 
this is a sales call...you will not live to see another sunrise."  
	"It's me.  Jeanette, I need you to send a courier with a case 
of fresh stock to hmm...hold on a second."  He spotted her purse on 
the table and rifled through the contents, searching for Natalie's 
address.  With a growl, he flung a picture of Nicholas in the 
garbage.  Nothing, how can a mortal not have a single piece of paper 
or identification with their address on it?  He held up the pair of 
latex gloves.  "Just the essentials, why am I not surprised?"     
	"I'm waiting, LaCroix.  I do have better things to do with my
mornings;  like sleep...."
	Fine, she would have to know.  "Send it to Doctor Lambert's
residence.  You will have to find out the address."
	"Why not ask her?"
	"She is rather indisposed at the moment, or I would."  He 
answered, terse.
	"My, you have been busy.  You realize that Nicholas will not 
be pleased, non?"
	"He seldom is.  Just send the case, or he will be even further
displeased to find his fondest love with a stake through her heart."  
He hung the phone back on it's cradle and returned to the bedroom.

	She woke up, surrounded by the warm cocoon of blankets.  
Drifting between that wonderful place of dreams and reality, she 
snuggled further down into the soft heat, and bumped something cold 
and hard.  Eep.  Her eyes snapped open, to reveal LaCroix, lying 
prone beside her.  
	Oh god.   Breathe, Natalie, breathe.  She gasped, and dove 
from the bed, putting as much space as possible between her and 
Nick's master.  Eeep.  What the hell was he doing here?  She grabbed 
a set of clothes from the dresser and fled the bedroom.   She tried 
to think of a single reason why he would be in her bed.  They hadn't 
done anything, had they?  She did a mental timeline, hmm, taking 
nyquil,  calling in sick to work,  and then sleeping.   No strange 
excursions to the Raven, or outside her apartment for that matter.   
Without thought, her hand sought her neck, searching for any telltale 
sign of a vampire slurpy.  Nope, nothing there, thank god.  	
	In the kitchen, she stopped and glared at the case of green 
bottles on the counter.  What, did he think he was moving in?  Of all 
the nerve, she shook her head in outrage.  She tossed the entire 
crate in the garbage.  
	It was then she noticed her uninvited house-guest had cleaned 
up.  The dirty dishes were gone,  the living room didn't look like a 
typhoon anymore, and the garbage had a new bag.  And the 
carpet...he'd vacuumed, and she'd slept through it?   Good job, Nat, 
at least he didn't kill you while you took your beauty sleep.  
	She heard him rustling in the covers, and felt him wake up.  
Wait a minute, no,  you can't feel someone wake up...can you?  Her 
hand went right back to her throat, determined to find something this 
time.  
	"Good morning, Doctor."  
	Uh oh.  She needed something to defend herself.  A stake?  
Too bad the only steaks in here were of the meatier variety.  A 
cross?  Garlic? Her eyes went to the cupboard, and she found herself 
there in the blink of an eye.  She needed to keep him away from her 
throat before he did give her a twin piercing.  She wrenched the lid 
from the garlic and halfway tossed it at him.  Only after the cloud 
of spice enveloped her, did she realize her mistake, and how much 
trouble she really was in.  Her knees gave way, and she plunged to 
the floor.  
	LaCroix held up his hands, and deliberately applauded her 
efforts, each slow clap reverberating in her pounding skull.  "Very 
good.  You've learned your first lesson.  Garlic makes us weak."  He 
raised an eyebrow when he found the case of blood in the 
trash.  "Natalie...what do you remember about last night?"
	She scooted back against the cupboard, and inched her way up 
to a sitting position.  "Taking way too much Nyquil, after that, 
nothing."

Hearing the sound of a heartbeat, Natalie snapped her head 
around to the couch, the steady beat luring her instinctively to the 
other room.  She doubled over at the sudden pain tearing through her 
stomach.  What the?  "I'm hungry.  LaCroix, tell me you didn't do 
what I think you did."  Panting in agony, she resisted the urge to 
tear the couch apart until she found the source of that hypnotic 
thumping.  
	When Sidney darted from his hiding place, she couldn't stop 
herself from diving after him.  LaCroix stepping into her path, 
catching her square in his embrace.  
	"I don't think so."  He snapped one hand up to the back of 
her neck, prying her away from his chest, and propelled her back into 
the kitchen to a stool. "Now sit."  He stared into her eyes, forcing 
her to obey when she resisted.  "You WILL NOT eat house pets.  To 
answer your earlier question, my dear, yes I did."  Expressionless,  
he retrieved a bottle from the garbage.  "Drink."
	She stared at the bottle, smelling the sweet elixir contained 
within.  Her hands shook when she reached for it.  That lack of self 
control, made her want to hide in shame. Through sheer force of will, 
she dropped her hand at the last moment.  "No!  I won't give in to 
you, LaCroix.  You had no right to do this to me, and if you expect 
obedience or gratitude, you won't get it. How dare you."  
	Fury clouded his features, as she finished her tirade.  "My 
mistake.  Sunrise is in seven hours,  leave the drapes open and your 
problems will be over."  He stalked from the room, shoulders stiff at 
her rejection.   "Never ask anything of me again, Doctor."
	Stunned, she stared after him.  What did he mean by that?  
She knew LaCroix, he wouldn't bring her across on a whim.  What was 
going on?   Oh god.  No wonder she didn't find any marks on her neck, 
she should have checked for a pulse instead.   Another wave of pain 
crashed over her innards, and in desperation she yanked the bottle to 
her lips.  Closing her eyes, she drained it, not taking the time to 
savor the taste.  
	Sensing the confused mixture of pain and anger coming from 
her new master, she blinked to find him at the exit.  His white 
knuckled grip motionless on the doorknob,  he studied her with 
glacial blue eyes, hooded by a frown.  
	"LaCroix, wait." Not knowing why she stopped him, she bit her 
lip. "Why?  Before you go, at least tell me that."
	He shook his head, and turned the knob.  "I'll be at the 
Raven.  If you decide to come to me,  I will hold you to your oath, 
memory or no."  
	"What oath?"
	"Obedience and loyalty, my dear.  I should have asked for 
undying love as well, since it seems you would have promised anything 
last night."	
	She ignored that barb, not wanting to delve into a discussion 
of love with Nick's master.  Her master too, she corrected.  "And, if 
I don't come?"
	"Then you may as well leave the blinds open."  He opened the 
door, and walked out.  She felt him close the link at the same time 
he closed the door.  
	Well, hell.  She slumped back against the counter, her mind 
completely blank.  What now?  He'd brought her across.  She was dead, 
her life over, no kids, no sun,  no marrying, oh no.  Her heart fell, 
leaden, in her chest.  Nick.  What was she going to do?  This was 
going to kill him, he would think it was all his fault.   She still 
remembered Valentine's day, so long ago, and the heartrending 
confession after LaCroix left.  How was she going to tell him?  How 
could she not?  He was her best friend, and the only one who had a 
chance in hell of comforting her.   Numb, she dialed the loft,  and 
waited for him to pick up.
	"I'm either in bed or incom..." She hung up and dialed the 
precinct.  
	"Schanke here."
	"Hi Don, put Nick on would you?"
	"Nick, err  Nat, he's not here right now."
	"So, where is he?"
	She could hear him fidgeting in the background, even the 
sound of his heart speeding up.  
	"He asked that I not say anything, Nat, I'm sorry."
	"Oh no, Donald, where is he, I won't tell him you told me.  
Be a pal."
	"He'll kill me."
	"So will Myra when I tell her about your visit to the strip 
club after hours.  Where, Schanke? I'll buy you Souvlaki for a week.  
It's important."
	"All right, all right, but I will keep you to that promise.  
He went to see his girlfriend at that freaky nightclub, the Raven;  
some French dancer,  Jeanette or something."
	"Thanks, Schanke.  I'll try there."  No wonder Nick never 
brought the Tylenol, he was too busy trying to reclaim mortality 
through blood loss, and physical exertion.   She hung the phone back 
in it's cradle, and debated the merits of phoning the Raven, or just 
going there.  If she went, LaCroix would demand she fulfill an oath 
she didn't remember making.   
	A phone call it was then.  She looked up the number in the 
yellow pages.  After the second ring, LaCroix's rich voice flowed 
through the reciever.  "This is the Nightcrawler, host of the Raven, 
what desire may I fulfill for you with this evening?"
	Of course, with her luck tonight, HE would be the one to 
answer the phone.  He had to be kidding, and why wasn't Miklos 
answering?  She debated hanging up on him, but she refused to 
backdown,  that would mean he won. "A better pick up line for 
starters."  
	Velvety laughter echoed in her ear, reverberating down her 
spine and making things tingle that had no bussiness tingling around 
him.  
	"Very well, Natalie,  I can as easily quote poetry describing 
the fire in your eyes, and the graceful length of your smooth body as 
you shudder beneath me in bed."
	"Or not.  Where is Nick?"  She didn't need to listen to this, 
did she?  Ugh.
	"I offer you my bed, and you think of Nicholas."   She heard 
the self deprecating tone;  a sad, bitter humor.  
	"Cute, real cute.   Will you allow me to talk to him, or not?"
	"He won't talk to you,  as usual, he is sulking.  Jeanette is 
comforting him."
	"Comforting him...right.  When he's done,  tell him to call 
me."
	"Natalie, you wait for the impossible.  He will never give 
her up.  They've been together for eight hundred years, living as 
husband and wife.  For all your beauty and fire, you can never make 
up for that.  Don't be a fool."
	
Fool.  Boy,  he nailed that one on the head.  Waking up with 
no recollection of the night before, and then scaring off the one and 
only source of that vital information.  Yep,  the dunce cap goes to 
Natalie Lambert.  "I'll be there shortly.  You can tell me about 
being a fool while you explain exactly what happened last night."
	"Wise decision, Natalie.  I'll be waiting."
	She just bet he would be.  What have you gotten yourself 
into, Nat?

The crowd in the Raven parted for her, stepping into two 
aisles.  Uh oh, this was not normal.  Everyone wore a costume...and 
they didn't look like theatre reproductions.  She froze, looking for 
LaCroix.  This had to be his doing.  Where was he?  He entered from 
the back room, dressed in the flowing purple and white robes of a 
senatorial Toga.  A scarlet sash ran across his chest like a crimson 
medal of glory.  Nat, breathe, stop drooling, close your mouth and 
say something intelligent.
	"LaCroix, a halloween party in August?  You should have 
warned me, I have a nice Doctor outfit, complete with 
formald..."      
	She trailed off as the rest of the company fell to one knee, 
leaving her and LaCroix the only two still standing.   Eyes wide, she 
watched his steady advance.  He stopped at a distance, and held his 
hands out for her, palms up.  "Welcome, Doctor Lambert."  He stared 
into her eyes, willing her to take his hands, and join him.  
	Choices, choices....  She scanned the crowd of bowed heads, 
looking for a hint of what was to come.  Nothing, they were all 
focused on the ground at their feet.  Oh boy.  You're going alone on 
this one, Doc.  Swallowing, she took his hand, her cold fingers 
immediately enveloped in his warm grasp.
	"LaCroix, I'm honored, mind telling me the occasion?"
	He leaned down, whispering in her ear.  "I'm afraid the 
public setting was required.  Your oaths of loyalty and obediance 
will be reported back to the council.  Smile, my dear."
	Right.  She turned her face into his, and smiled, speaking 
under her breath.  "You win this round, Lucius, but that's only 
because I can't say no to a man dressed in a bed sheet."
	His rich laughter thundered across the room, and he swept her 
beside him.  As if waiting for that signal, the parted crowd rose as 
one, coming to their feet with pride.  The soldiers in the group, no 
matter their century of origin, snapped to attention, while the women 
watched in eager silence.   
	Fear shot through her.  "LaCroix?"    
	"Kneel, Natalie."  His stoic features gave nothing away.  
Eyes calm, he waited for her to make the decision, either accept this 
dominance or face the consequences alone.
	She knelt, swallowing her pride like a bitter pill and gave 
in.  She still held onto his right hand, the band of his silver ring 
pressing against the tops of her fingers.
	Mere centimeters in front of her, the soft folds of his toga 
swayed against his bare knees.  She focused on the laces of his 
leather sandals, rather than attempt to look at his face.  
	"Do you come here of your free will?"  His voice gained 
timbre as he played to the audience.
	"Yes."  Of course, the alternative was incineration by solar 
flare.  Not that it mattered.
	"Good.  Natalie, by drinking from me, you affirm your oath of 
fealty and obediance to me as your master and brother.  Will you 
drink?"
	From him?   The silence became oppressive as everyone awaited 
her response.  Damn you,  LaCroix.  "Yes, I'll drink."  
	"By drinking from you, I accept you as my fledgling and swear 
to protect and support you for eternity.  Do you accept this 
friendship?"
	She'd gone this far, what was one more?  "I do."  Acting on 
some instinct, she pressed her lips to his ring, cementing the vow.  
	"Meum es.  Rise, Natalie, and join me."
	You are mine.  For once, she wished she never took the latin 
in med. school.  There were some things she just didn't want to 
know.   But after vowing to obey him, what was she going to do?  
Fling it back in his face? 
	She rose slowly, bracing herself on his chest;  his very hard 
chest.  She paused,  metal?  The smooth wool of his toga slid easily 
under her fingers, slipping over whatever was hidden beneath that 
fabric.  What was he wearing?  Armor?   A mental image of LaCroix in 
a breastplate fresh from a triumphant return to Rome filled her mind, 
the details so sharp and clear, she could reach out a touch it.  All 
right, that was one mental image she didn't need.  Eep.  
	"I can smell your desire, Natalie.  Perhaps we should 
continue in private."
	Her eyes traveled back down the length of his battle hardened 
body to his feet.  There was no denying she liked what she 
saw...but,  "No.  We can't."
	"It will be expected before the night is over, however, take 
this time if you must."   He brought her head to his neck, molding 
her body to his.   She inhaled the fresh scent of almonds, and honey, 
while trying without success to ignore the bulge pressed against her 
stomach.  
	She nuzzled the firm line of his neck, the muscles apparent 
even without flexing.  Rubbing her face against that warm skin, she 
almost purred in his embrace.   She didn't even notice him moving her 
hair to the side.   
	LaCroix struck first,  plunging his fangs into the junction 
of her neck and shoulder.   With everyone staring at her, working up 
the courage to bite him was impossible.  In accute embarrassment, she 
realized her fangs hadn't even dropped.  She closed her eyes, and 
rested her forehead against his solid shoulder.  "Help,  LaCroix."  
	He seemed to expect this  and lifted his hand to his neck, 
dragging his fingernail across the skin in a sharp motion.  Blood 
welled to the surface, centimeters from her mouth.  She sealed her 
lips against the cut and drank.  
	LaCroix broke away and his face split into a triumphant 
grin.   "I present Natalie Flavius!"  
	Cheers errupted through the room.  Miklos swung Alma into his 
arms, swirling her into a bawdy dance.   
	Natalie licked his wound and stared up at him, ignoring the 
revelry.  "Flavius?"
	"It is a name shared by Emperors, and revered by scholars.  
My family led Rome at it's height,  there is no shame to bear it."
	"Jeanette DuCharme,  Nicholas DeBrabant, and you choose me to
share your name.  Why?"
	"Nicholas refused my name centuries ago.  As for you, if you 
are unable to figure out why a man wants a beautiful woman to share 
his name,  I overestimated your intelligence."
	"You felt the need to mark your territory?  Well, at least 
you didn't pee on me."  Thank god for small favors.  She noticed one 
conspicious absense among the community.  "Does Nick know you brought 
me across?"
	"He knew as soon as we finished last night.  As for marking my
territory, that has already been done.  My name has nothing to do 
with that.  It is a gift, you may choose to reject it if you like, 
but the offer will never be made again."
	His mask was back in place, the stoic general, pretending 
that he didn't care one way or the other.  Natalie didn't fall for 
it.  For some reason, he cared enough to want to share his 
name.  "Let me think about it."
	"Of course."  He captured her lips, knowing already that she 
would accept it, and him.  "Brace yourself, my dear, we're about to 
be escorted to our chambers."
	"Huh?"
	Whistles and shouts of encouragement came from all sides, as 
they were literally pushed together and lifted onto the shoulders of 
the men.  She tried to fight her way down, but LaCroix stopped her 
panicked struggles with a thought.   He sheltered her as much as 
possible from the ribald procession, and when they were thrown 
unceremoniously onto his bed, he cradled her flaming face to his 
neck.  	
	"Everybody out!"

The door shut behind the obnoxious crowd, and LaCroix ground 
his teeth in frustration.  There was no chance of salvaging this 
situation.  Even as he thought it, Natalie's clenched fist caught him 
square in the sternum.  He cringed, the segmented breastplate was not 
a forgiving surface, not even for their kind.  
	"Get off me!  Get the hell of me! Now!"  She continued 
pummeling him, and pushing him away at the same time.  Her panicked 
struggles made it impossible for him to get away, his toga was firmly 
stuck beneath her shapely posterior.
	"That is Enough!"  He caught her fists in his iron grip,  but 
if anything, her struggles increased tenfold.
	"No! I won't let you do this!  Stop!" Screaming, she bared 
her fangs, eyes wide in fear.
	"Doctor, if you would calm yourself, I am not doing anything 
to you.  Desist!" He didn't even begin to understand the cause of her 
panic, but her screaming for help did not bode well for his 
reputation or honor.  No doubt the idiots responsible for this mess 
were still within hearing distance, if not right outside.  "Natalie! 
Stop, you will injure yourself."
	She finally arched her back enough to free the soft wool, and 
he rolled to the side, away from the hellcat.  As soon as he was out 
of range,  Natalie scrambled for the head of the bed to put even more 
distance between them.
	"Don't touch me." 
	He stiffened at the challenge, but stopped when he saw the 
tears about to fall from her eyes.  She wasn't challenging him, she 
was terrified.  After two centuries of experience, it didn't take him 
long to figure out what had triggered it.  Sighing, he went over to 
the bookshelf and pulled a well worn book from it's resting place.  
	"I won't.  I promise you, rape is something you shall never 
again experience, not from a mortal, and certainly not from me.  You 
are safe."  He didn't look up when he said it,  studying the ancient 
text in his hands.  
	Nothing came from her corner of the bed for long tense 
minutes.   He risked a peek, and saw her shoulders shaking in silent 
sobs, and her face firmly planted in a pillow.  He'd forgotten how 
emotional new fledglings were.  He raised a brow, and watched her, 
debating the merits of approaching her, or staying out of range.  
Even while still mortal, the doctor had never seemed the type to 
enjoy an audience to her moments of weakness.  However,  she wouldn't 
be crying if it wasn't for him. 
	"Natalie?" Resigned, he approached the bed, determined to 
calm her.  When he sat beside her, and pulled her into his arms, she 
didn't protest.  "Shh."  Gently, he pried the damp pillow from her 
face.  When she looked up at him, he hid the rage at the unknown 
mortal who'd managed to break through her wall of strength.  "You 
have my word,  the man responsible for this will understand the 
meaning of torture before he meets his maker."
	"Why LaCroix?  You've tormented me for years, made my life a 
living hell, and now you expect me to believe this softer kinder 
side?  What happened last night?"
	He chose his words carefully.  "I was shot, and went to you 
for help.  Instead, I found you almost dead from a fever, begging to 
be put out of your misery or brought across."  He opened the link, 
pushing his memories into her.  "I did nothing that you did not ask 
for."
	Feeling her searching through his mind, he closed off some of 
the other motivations for bringing her to his side.  There were some 
things she wasn't ready for just yet.  "This is a gift, Natalie, 
together we will see man journey to other galaxies, and conquer 
heaven itself.   DaVinci made a toy helicopter, but even he never 
dreamed of landing on Mars, or traveling faster than the speed of 
sound.  I have never regretted choosing eternity,  had I not,  I 
would be a plaster casting on the streets of Pompeii."
	"I owe you an apology."
	"No."  He brushed her auburn locks out of the way and kissed 
her forehead.  "There is no need."  He saw her stiffen slightly at 
the unexpected touch, but she didn't return to her earlier panic.  
Good, perhaps some things might be salvaged after all.    
	"As an Oxford poet once wrote,  `Care charmer sleep, son of 
sable night, Brother of death, in silent darkness born, relieve my 
languish, and restore the light, with dark forgetting of my care's 
return.'  No, Natalie, for you this was but a dream, a wish.  I could 
never hold you responsible for a fever's hallucinations."
	"Be careful what you wish for, eh?  You should have realized 
I wasn't with it, when I told you to put on a dress."  She snorted in 
his arms.
	He shifted, "Thankfully, some dreams won't ever come true.  
That is one of them.  It's bad enough I have to wear trousers like a 
barbarian celt.  Perhaps in time, civilized clothing will return."
	"And you think wearing a bed sheet is civilized?"
	"This bed sheet as you call it, is a lactus clavus, over two 
hundred years old, and a gift from a treasured friend.  The roman 
civilization lasted over a thousand years.  If anything holds the 
mark of civilization, it is this."
	He looked down in perplexion as she started shaking.  He 
didn't make her cry again, did he?  "Are you well, Doctor?"
	She turned her tear stained face back up at him, her lips 
lifted into a brilliant smile. She'd been laughing.  "I'm fine, 
LaCroix.  Don't worry, you don't have to worry about me being the 
bedlamite."    
	"It is good to see you back to your charming self, Dr. 
Lambert." He realized in surprise that he meant it.  The brave woman 
before him had never before shown weakness, and he respected her for 
it.  
	"Seriously though, why did you do it?  We have never been 
great friends, and this can't help your relationship with Nick." 
Natalie asked.
	"You are a beautiful woman.  In all honesty, you remind me of 
someone long gone.  Unlike her, you are a survivor.   Nicholas 
convinced me to abandon her, leaving her to die birthing another 
man's child.  I am tired of fighting my son.  He has constantly 
fallen in and out of love with mortals, playing with their emotions 
until he either leaves them broken hearted or kills them.  You 
deserved more than that, and I don't make the same mistake twice.  
Eternity is a long time to be alone, Natalie."
	"Fleur." 
	He closed his eyes, remembering that long ago night. "Yes."
	"I'll never take her place, Lucien."
	"Of course not, I've had eight hundred years to recover, this 
is not, as you say, a rebound.  We may never be more than companions, 
but it is better than watching another die and do nothing."  He 
rolled his shoulder, pushing against the uncomfortable leather strap 
holding his segmented breastplate in place.  "With your permission, I 
need to change."  
	He retreated to the bathroom, and removed the pins holding 
his toga in place.  The straps holding on his armor were another 
matter.  He attempted to reach the back one, but the reticulated 
bands of metal protecting his shoulder prevented him from reaching 
that far.  
	"Need help?"  Natalie stood at the door, admiring the view.
	He sighed and straightened to his full height.   "The ties in 
back,  if you don't mind." 
	She ran her hands over the thick brown leather and silver 
plating that covered his back and fell just above his  
knees.  "Amazing.  Is this real?"  
	"It was worn while I commanded the Cyrnaica legion in 
Alexandria for the coronation of Vespasian as the Emperor. Yes, my 
dear, it is quite `real'."  
	"Tell me about it sometime."  She finished untying him, but 
lingered, examining at the rest of the armor. 
	LaCroix chuckled. "Long ago, Nicholas asked the same and I 
would tell him of it until he surrendered to sleep."
	"You miss him."
	LaCroix closed his eyes, remembering the joy he once found in 
Nicholas's company.  "He is my son, of course I miss him.  We have 
not always hated each other."  The mood spoiled, he pulled the 
ancient leather over his head, leaving only the white undertunic.  
	"Whoa, hold up.  You're not innocent in this.  Since I've 
known Nick, you've killed Alyce Hunter,  threatened to kill me, many 
times, and stolen every attempt he's had at returning to mortality.  
That is not what friends do, LaCroix.  Give me a break from the self 
pity, you brought it on yourself."
	"I did not kill the enchanting Miss Hunter.  As for 
Nicholas's search for death,  I will never allow him to find it.  
Yes, I have almost killed you.  You were a threat to the community, 
and a threat to my son's well being.  How many poisons have you 
forced down his unsuspecting throat?  He was so weakened from one of 
your concoctions, I nearly had to kill him to remove a demon!  You 
know nothing of raising children, so don't tell me how to raise 
mine."  He towered over her,  fists clenched in rage.  
	She stiffened, but if anything the fire in her eyes 
increased.  "If you want to kill me for expressing my opinion, go for 
it.  There is no way I'll ever submit that far.  I am not a slave, 
LaCroix."
	So, that is what it came down to, pride.  He understood that, 
and respected it,  now, to test her resiliance.  Schooling his 
features into a cold mask, he grabbed her neck in lightning 
speed.  "You are anything I want you to be, daughter."
	He froze, feeling a steel vice wrap suddenly around his most 
precious body part.  
	"Wrong, and my title is Doctor.  You apologize, and I'll let 
go.  You squeeze, I squeeze."
	He swallowed, and contemplated his options.  So far, she was 
just holding him, making sure he didn't kill her.  The threat was a 
damned good one, and he knew she was more than capable of carrying it 
out.  "This is not how I envisioned spending my first evening with 
you."
	"Then don't threaten me."
	He almost laughed at her nerve, keyword being almost.  No one 
in their right mind laughed while a furious woman gripped him 
there.  "Indeed.  Very well, Doctor, I apologize.  Now, release me."
	"You first."
	Beautiful, resourceful, and wise, a grand combination,  he 
released her neck, and held his arms to the side, palms open.  "You 
are free, mon coer."
	He saw her weighing her own options, debating whether or not 
to trust him.  "Give me your word that you won't retaliate for this."
	"Of course."  Yes, she will make a magnificent mate and 
companion, he thought.  Provided she decided to keep her word.
	She did, releasing him with a carress.  His eyes popped wide 
open, and he stared at her in confusion.  "Natalie?"
	"The link works both ways, LaCroix.  If you ever want me as 
a `mate', you'll have to do a lot better than this."
	He slammed the link closed in shock.  How?  He hadn't felt a 
thing.  Just how strong was his new fledgling?  
	"Strong enough."

T B C...