The Human Reaction To Pain

   Hi folks! This is Sing to Angels here, with another tale which I
hope you will all enjoy. It has been alpha read by my lovely friend,
NightAngel. Take a bow if you please, my dear. I love you to pieces
and I don't know how I ever got along without you. :) I've probably
been working on this thing for about a month off and on. It is the
first part in a series, I have yet to write the next installment, and
if this story isn't received well then I won't bother writing it. It
all depends on you, my friends. I have to thank you all for your
wonderful comments so far, it has really helped me to write even more.
However, I still need the comments, especially suggestions on how I
can improve my writing. I never stop until something is the best that
I can make it so don't hesitate to offer a comment or two please. This
is how we help each other, this community is great about that. In the
last two months, I have seen how super all of you are. As fans of a
cancelled TV show, we have banded together and shown how much we
really care about each other. So I dedicate this piece to all of you.
Everyone have a great night!


 
(01/10)

       As gently as the day flows into night, the auburn haired
coroner lifted a scalpel and made two precise incisions on the chest
of a recently deceased older man. The breath she used to keep her
unruly hair in order made the strands float softly into the air before
settling back to the place they were before. Not making his presence
known, Lucien LaCroix walked into the lab. "Such beauty among death."
He paused as Natalie regained her composure. "A pity that you cannot
be a greater part of it."
   
"What do you want?" Natalie gasped out. "Don't tell me that you just
came by to admire my style." She finished sarcastically.

  "Ah," LaCroix put his hands to his heart. "You wound me to the
quick, my dear!" He said dramatically.
Natalie's expression softened as she rolled her eyes and set down the
scalpel, pulled off the rubber gloves and walked over to where he
stood. Casually reaching up with her arms, she pulled LaCroix's face
closer to her own. "If you wanted a kiss, why didn't you just ask me
instead of pulling all of that Shakespeare stuff out and pounding me
with it." Natalie smiled and leaned forward to kiss the tall, blonde
vampire.
    
  Pulling back after a moment, LaCroix asked. "Have you given any
thought yet to my offer?" He stroked the hair out of her face and
slowly ran one finger down Natalie's cheek. She turned her face away
from him. "I still don't think that is what I want, Lucien." She
turned back to face him and looked straight into his ice blue eyes.
"I'm only 26 years old, I just started working for the city as a
coroner. I'm the youngest medical examiner in the entire province! I
have such a great career ahead of me. I am holding life in the palm of
my hand and it has given me exactly what I have always wanted. Why
should I stop now?" Slowly, Natalie ran those palms up and down his
chest, eliciting a small intake of breath from him when she started
twirling his nipple with the tips of her fingers. "Besides, I don't
see why I have to make a choice now. We have years yet to be explored.
I want to look a little bit older." She shyly looked up at him from
under long lashes, "We don't want people to think that I am your
daughter throughout eternity do we?" A small, golden chuckle escaped
her lips as she reached up to kiss him again. Lucien pulled away from
her abruptly. Startled, Natalie asked "What's wrong? Did I say
something ?" 

   "How could you say something like that to me!" He demanded, shaking
her slightly. "You know about my daughter! I just told you yesterday."
LaCroix released her arms and turned away, huddling further into his
dark coat. Natalie tentatively put her warm hand on his shoulder, he
shuddered slightly, trying to keep from letting the newly opened wound
consume him. 
  "You can cry in front of me, Lucien. I won't turn away from you."
Natalie leaned her head against his back and his shuddering stopped.
He reached for the hand on his shoulder and grasped it. "I'm so sorry,
my love. I didn't mean to upset you, I just wasn't thinking about what
I said. I'm stupid, you can shake me all you want to if it helps."
LaCroix laughed softly and turned to embrace Natalie in his arms. 

    This show of emotion was new for him. Being raised as a Roman over
2,000 years ago had not instilled the concept of sharing what he was
feeling, or to even acknowledge that he felt anything at all. How his
dreary life had changed when Natalie Lambert walked into his college
classroom three years before. She hadn't been interested in the
required class, he remembered that much. She was there because she
needed the credit.  

**********************************************

(02/10)

  As Natasha Lambert bounced into the classroom, her wild hair free,
she turned to look at her new teacher. Professor Lucien Cross was
tall, with very blonde hair and icy eyes that made her teeth ache from
clenching them. He looked like he was solidly built under the plain
black and gray suit. Probably could arm wrestle an alligator and win
just because he looked him dead in the eye and the toothy monster was
scared to death. Natasha allowed a small laugh to escape from her lips
before she settled into one of the seats near the front of the room.
The piercing eyes of the new professor looked at her and she suddenly
felt very small and uncomfortable. After dealing with Nana for most of
her life, Natasha felt that there was no reason to be so cowed by him.
He was just a teacher. She started to feel angry with herself for
acting like a six-year old who had just seen the bogey man under her
bed.
   Studiously ignoring the man at his desk, she opened her notebook
and started doodling until class started. Apparently, she was too
engrossed in the idle drawing to notice that the class had already
started and the blonde man at the front of the room was looking
directly at her. Coolly, Professor Cross walked up to her desk and let
his shadow fall across her books. Startled, Natasha looked up into the
hard, blue eyes of her new teacher. "I take it that you want to be
elsewhere?"
     
  Natasha blushed and lowered her head in shame. Her first day in a
new class with a creepy teacher and she had been caught blanking out.
She cleared her throat, "No, sir. I just wasn't p-p-paying attention.
I'm sorry, sir." Tasha cursed herself inwardly for stammering like a
fool. He was right though, she didn't want to be there. She was only
taking the class because it was a required course, it was the last of
the core classes that she had to pass. Natasha prayed silently that
she could get a good mark in this one, the professor scared the
daylights out of her and she didn't know whether she could keep her
wits together.

    "Well, I suggest that you do pay attention to my class Miss...?"
    
    "Lambert, Natasha Lambert."

  Cross smiled slowly like a wolf. "Miss Lambert, I expect that this
won't happen again. In my class you must keep up because I don't
tolerate dunces-"

   "I'm not a dunce! I can keep up with whatever you throw at me!"

  "I also don't tolerate interruptions. You had best remember that,
Miss Lambert." He leaned over her and put his hands on the sides of
her desk. "I shall enjoy the challenge of teaching you. Let's see if
you really can 'take what I throw to you'." The professor's eyes took
on a primal gleam, as if he was, honestly, looking forward to the
challenge of breaking this proud, unruly student. It made Natasha
shudder and wonder what she had gotten herself into.
     

*************************************************

(03/10)


   The class settled immediately after seeing how their fellow student
was put in her place. The lecture proceeded without incident. The
students, afraid of being lashed by the sharp tongue of their new
teacher decided not to ask any questions. That only infuriated
Professor Cross even further. Quiet students did not learn their
lessons.
     He stopped in the middle of a sentence and slammed a book hard on
his podium. Everyone jumped and he started to speak again. "Don't tell
me that not one of you has a question about my lecture! If someone
knows more than I do then please," He made a wide, sweeping gesture.
"Come up here and teach this class yourself. Otherwise, I expect full
participation in this course." Cross encompassed the room in his hard,
glittering gaze. "Is that understood?" All present nodded quietly and
looked down at their notes. Tasha raised her hand, proudly tossing her
hair back.

   "Yes, Miss Lambert?"

 "I don't understand exactly how the Celts had the manpower and skill
to sack Rome. Can you explain please?" 

   Lucien smiled, yes this one would be fun, he could see it already.
"Well at the time of invasion, Rome was..."

     The class was a little more relaxed after Natasha had taken the
inititive and they started to voice their opinions and questions,
argued differing points. Suddenly, the class seemed to be more
challenging to everyone, even a bit fun. Soon enough, it was time to
leave.
  As everyone rose from their seats, stretching their limbs and
putting their books in order for the long trek back to their dorm
rooms, Professor Cross called Natasha to his desk.

   "Yes, Sir?"

   Lucien pulled a sheaf of papers from out of a drawer and handed
them to her. Puzzled, Tasha looked up with questioning eyes. "What is
this for?"
   His eyes almost glowed with the amusement he was finding in this.
"This is your extra assignment. You stated earlier that you could
'take what I throw', so prove yourself to me. Otherwise, don't make
empty promises."
   Natasha tried very hard to swallow the rising anger and not 'throw'
the papers in the professor's sly face. How was she possibly going to
be able to do this plus all of the other work that she had piled up on
the sagging desk in her dorm? She almost opened her mouth to make an
angry retort, but decided against it.
    "When is this due, Sir?" Tasha wondered if he could hear the
irritation in her voice. He noticed, but didn't comment on it. "Three
weeks from now. I expect it to be neatly typed, double spaced and
clean margins. Originality and inventiveness is a plus, and if you can
find extra information that is not required it will also be duly noted
for extra credit." He waved his hand for her to leave, "Good luck,
Miss Lambert. You may go."
   She looked down at the papers in her hand. The header said:
Shakespeare, his life and times. "But, Sir! This has nothing to do
with your class!"
  Lucien looked up, vaguely unamused by her continued presence at his
desk. "No," He started slowly, as if speaking to an imbecile. "It has
nothing to do with my class, but I figured that you might be up for
the challenge anyway. It was all that I had on hand. You are
*dismissed*, Miss Lambert." The sheer nerve! Natasha grabbed her books
and fled the room before she said something that could possibly
suspend her.


***************************************************

(04/10)

    At first, Natasha was tempted to just write a short essay with a
few extra footnotes about facts not commonly found about Shakespeare.
But when she attended the next class with Professor Cross, she decided
that the previous course of action would not do, not at all. There was
no way that she would let that man take any pleasure in pointing out
inaccuracies on the paper she wrote. It became her obsession.
   "There just aren't enough hours in the day." Tasha sighed,
stretched and tried once more to concentrate on the tedious book on
Elizabethan politics. So far, she had covered fashion, the theater,
religion, common life, and royal life. There was so much left to be
done though! The plays and sonnets to unearth from the bowels of her
second home, the library. On top of work from other classes, this was
murder. She rubbed her eyes with the tips of raw fingers and let them
slowly slide down her face. Looking towards her roommate's desk, Tasha
saw a bottle of pills. Curious, she got up to examine them and found
them to be caffiene pills. Strong ones too.
   She glanced around to make sure no one was there. The coast was
clear, her roomie still being in the shower. Opening the bottle,
Natasha poured a small handful out and hid them in her pocket. Going
back to her desk, she swallowed two down with a mouthful of coca-cola
and attacked her books with new energy. 

   Three weeks flew by. Natasha couldn't remember the last time she
had had more than two hours of sleep. There were bags under her eyes
and the formerly wild, free tresses of auburn hair seemed to be dull
and lifeless of late. But the paper was finished, after she turned it
in she could rest. Trudging toward the building where her class was,
Natasha stumbled a little bit and leaned against a wall for support.
"Come on Lambert! Pull yourself together here. It is just one more
class, you can do it." With a supreme act of willpower, Tasha pulled
herself away from the rough brick wall and kept going.
  Walking into the room, she found her usual desk and fell into it
gratefully. She opened her notebook and pulled out the paper on
Shakespeare she had written and set it on the top of her desk, ready
to turn in the second he asked for it.
     Natasha watched as her classmates filed in quietly and sat down.
As the professor came to the front of the classroom to greet all of
the students, she saw him give her an odd look before continuing with
the opening statement of his lecture. Tasha didn't hear much of it
before her head started nodding. Trying desperately to remain awake,
she pinched her arm with all her might. It did no good and soon she
succumbed to the blessings of sleep.

     Lucien saw how exhausted Natasha was the minute she came through
the doorway and sat at her customary front deskchair. He heard the
terrible thunder that was her heart, almost skipping a beat here and
there. Was she taking drugs? While Lambert hardly seemed the type, one
never knew. He looked at her more closely, trying to discover whether
there were any dangerous drugs in her system from the smell she
released into the air. With so many people, it was difficult to pick
out one scent from the other. He would talk to her after class was
over. He didn't have to wonder how long it was going to take for her
to finally fall into the arms of sleep. She was out cold before he was
half done with his lecture. He chose not to awaken her, but instead
dismissed the class early.
   Going to her desk, he saw the paper that she had written for her
extra assignment. It was thick like a book and as he flipped through
it he saw that it was neatly typed and covered far more than even he
expected. Beside the seat, her purse was open and he decided that it
would do no harm to look for the drugs he felt sure she was taking.
The inside pocket contained a small bottle of strong caffiene pills.
Obviously she had been taking them so that she could study more than
was healthy for her body. Picking up one of her hands, he studied the
veins that were far beneath her skin and could tell she was severely
dehydrated.
   Deciding that she needed rest badly, he put his hands under her
legs, arranged her arms around his neck, and carried her into his
office so that she could rest more comfortably on the sofa where he
sometimes spent the day.

****************************************

(05/10)

       "Uhhh..." Natasha groaned softly and tried to move her arms,
they felt floppy and uncooperative. "Are we feeling a little better,
Miss Lambert?" She froze, that voice! Professor Cross! Where was she
at? Slitting one eye open, she could see the faint outline of his
large frame hovering over her. Had she passed out? The professor
reached over and propped her back up more comfortably with a couple of
pillows. "Here, you must drink this." It was a glass of orange juice,
the condensation on the sides dripping onto her bare leg. Natasha
lifted her hand and grasped it tightly. As she raised it to her lips,
her hands started shaking so badly she would have dropped it if the
professor's cool hand had not darted out to steady her. He gently
pulled it from the clutch she had around the glass and held it to her
lips so that she could drink more easily. 
  
   "I can do it myself. I don't need your help, sir." Cross looked at
her with one eyebrow quirked up. "On the contary, I believe that you
do need my help at the moment. Accept it and comply or I shall be
forced to take you to a hospital. You are severly malnourished, more
than likely have drank nothing either, not to mention the pills I
found in your pur--"
  
   "You went through my purse! How dare you do that!" The professor
put the glass on the floor next to the sofa and looked at her with the
icy blue eyes that made her shiver despite herself. "When an obviously
ill student falls asleep in my class, I have the right to look through
whatever I wish. I had been suspecting you were taking some form of
drug, I just didn't know what it was yet." He saw her angry face and
almost smiled. Such fire! If he could have her as a part of his
family.... ah, but that was not the right frame of mind to have in
this situation. "I did not report this to anyone....yet. I called the
RA of your building and your other teachers. They have been informed
you are ill and need time to recover from a bad flu. I suggest that
you go home and get the rest you need. Forget about your studies and
classes, relax for a few days." The look of sheer murder on her face
was laughable. "I do not need to rest for a few days. I will be fine
by tomorrow and I will go to my classes as usual." Each word was
almost spit out from between clenched teeth. Cross casually leaned
over her, making himself as imposing as possible. "You will not."
Every word was clear and concise, leaving no room for argument from a
normal person. "You will go home, rest, and consume some type of
nourishment. If you do not, I will report that you need help for a
drug problem and they will *make* you rest." Natasha looked at him
from under bristling brows and said, "Caffiene pills are over the
counter. Anyone can buy them, they aren't illegal. You can't cow me,
Professor!" Now he smiled, this had been expected. Cross held up a
small cellophane bag. "No, but this is. And I have the ability to hide
this somewhere in your room if I find out you have not followed my
instructions." The baggie contained approximately ten pills, yellow
with black stripes. They looked like bumblebees. "That is speed!"
Natasha gasped out. How could he do this and get away with it? "You
can't do that! Those are illegal and I could go to jail."
   Oh, he was enjoying this, she could tell by the smirk on his face.
What did he want from her? Sex? An illegal favour? She decided to ask
and he chuckled. "No, nothing so vulgar. I merely want some insurance
to make sure my favourite student is taking care of herself."

*************************************

(06/10)

  "Your favourite student? Yeah right, pal. What do you really want?
Everyone knows that you can't stand me." This surprised him slightly.
He had always tried to divide attention among his students equally.
Equal amounts of praise and ridicule or so he thought. He sighed
dramatically and put his hands to his heart. "You wound me to the
quick, my dear!" Grinning slightly, he let his hands rest on the arm
of the sofa and leaned forward. "I do not dislike you. On the
contrary, I find you highly amusing to teach. Your drive to prove me
wrong touches my hardened heart. You never will though."

  "Never will what?"

"You will never prove me wrong. Others have tried and it is near
impossible." Well, wasn't he full of himself? Natasha thought. "But I
know," he continued. "That you are already thinking of ways that you
can aren't you?" Damn his eyes! Tasha thought to herself, amused that
a shakespearean reference came so quickly to her mind. She would find
a way. Come hell or high water she would eventually prove him wrong.
He may be right now, but later he would be proved wrong. Her eyes
gleamed in anticipation of battle. Tasha hoped that it didn't show too
much as she ducked her head, trying to make a show of meekness. "Of
course not, sir. I am feeling tired still, so I'm not thinking
properly."
   Cross believed that excuse about as much as he believed that cows
could fly. Or was it pigs that flew? No matter. He saw the same shine
in her eyes as he had seen in men spoiling for a fight or readying
themselves for war. It was almost like a blood-lust but far more
primal, the urge to prove one's merit. He picked up the gauntlet she
had tossed so carelessly towards him. "Already back to 'sir' are we?
Only a few minutes ago I was your 'pal'. Or did I hear incorrectly?"
   Natasha gritted her teeth. "You were not incorrect, *sir*. I was
feeling badly earlier and that is the only excuse I have for my
outburst. I am sorry." She was surprised when he called her on the
false apology. "You are not sorry, Miss Lambert. Very far from sorry
by the look on your face. But forget that, it is time for you to go
home and get some rest." He stood up fully and extended his hand to
help her up from the couch.     Ignoring the offer, she braced her
arms on the sofa and pushed up with her legs. Her body had the
strength to stand, and even walk a few feet, but longer distances were
obviously out of the question. The sick, dizzy feeling that she hated
so much was taking her over. All of the small, quiet sounds of a
building asleep sounded as if it was coming through a cotton ball held
to her ear. Muffled, like her vision was becoming. "I will not pass
out." Natasha murmured under her breath, so quietly that a mouse
sitting on her shoulder could not hear the words, but Cross did.
   Putting his arms around her waist, he helped her to the door.
"Perhaps I should take you to the doctor after all. You are far from
well." Natasha was going to protest but decided to save her breath for
breathing. "Where are your keys?" She pointed to her purse, still
sitting on the couch. He handed it to her and then picked up her
slight form, heading for the door. "Let me down I can walk prefe---
perfectly fine." Every thing was becoming so dim! There was a dazed
look in her eyes as she cut off in the middle of a sentence. Cross
shook his head, she was worse than he suspected. Glancing at the clock
on the wall, he saw that it was roughly five hours till dawn. Plenty
of time for him to drive her to the hospital and still make it home.
This had built up for more than a week, he was sure of it. She must
have been pushing herself for a month or more to be this weak. It was
obvious that the girl had courage, stamina, and perseverence to make
it for so long on practically nothing. Admirable traits, but like the
stubborness he also admired, it could be taken too far at times. Cross
snorted softly in reply to Tasha's ridiculous comment and kept going
towards the parking lot and her car.


**********************************************

(07/10)


         "Diabetes, Miss Lambert."

  "Diabetes?" Natasha echoed. That meant needles and so many things
that she would never be able to do. The doctor cleared his throat and
she lifted her head up to look at him. "However, it is only
borderline. In other words, you can control it with diet and
excercise. If you take proper care of yourself, you may never have to
take insulin injections. We are going to prescribe you some pills to
take. Vitamins of course, and something to keep your blood sugar
regular until you recover fully." The doctor shook his head slightly.
She was very young still, and to have developed diabetes from
stress.... so sad. But college students did this to themselves every
year. It was no different now. The high amounts of caffiene in her
system didn't help things either. The tox screen had come back from
the lab an hour ago, bearing mute witness to the abuse this poor girl
had put herself through to get ahead in her studies. But, he
remembered medical school very well. It was a constant struggle not to
be left behind. "When you are able to prove you can control this
through healthy habits we will see about taking you off of the pills.
The nurse should be here in a few minutes to tell you what you need to
eat and what you need to avoid."
  Natasha angered at this. She was a medical student, almost finished
with her training. She was going into her residency next term! And she
didn't know proper nutrition? Natalie swallowed the growing irritation
and nodded towards the doctor.

    After the nurse had finished instructing her in the fine points of
diet and excercise, Natasha grabbed her purse and headed toward the
exit of the hospital. Getting into her car, Tasha clunked her head on
the steering wheel and let out a sigh. Why did this have to happen to
her? She was a good student, right? Always trying to learn faster,
excel in everything she put a hand to, be the best she could be. And
now she had diabetes. Diet and excercise, she just had to keep that in
mind. As tempting as it might be to use the disese as an excuse to
rest, she couldn't possibly do that. Too much left to be done.
Professor Cross might not like it, but that was too bad. 
  Cranking the starter up and putting the car into reverse, Natasha
backed out of the parking spot and headed back to her dorm. 


******************

    "Natasha! I'm so glad you are alright! One of your professors
stopped by and told me that you were sick and couldn't go to your
classes for a while." Tasha groaned at the welcoming message received
from her roommate, Joesphine. 
  "I'm not that sick, Josie. I'll be fine, and I am planning on going
to my classes as scheduled." Tasha rubbed her eyes, her vision was
fuzzy for some reason or another. Josie pulled at her arm and she
reluctently followed the larger girl to her bed. Pushing Natasha
backwards till her calves bumped the bed, Josie knelt down and removed
Tasha's shoes. "Now you just get in bed. I don't want to hear it, not
one word from you. I'm going to heat up some soup and you are going to
eat it." Picking up the comforter, Josie wrapped Natasha snuggly in it
like a spider would spin a cocoon around a fly. Perhaps a little too
snug. "You will sleep in my bed tonight because yours is full of
books. I'll clean it off after my morning class." Natasha looked
towards the other side of the room and noticed, perhaps for the first
time, that her bed was anything but inhabitable. Yet she knew that she
must have slept somewhere.. where did she.... oh. Then she saw the
desk in the corner with her fuzzy bear and pillow on top of it. Maybe
she had been working too hard on schoolwork. Maybe a break was in
order after all.
    The soup arrived. Chicken noodle, how did she know that it would
be chicken noodle. Josie was prattling on and on about nothing. "I
heard that chicken noodle soup has chemicals in it that fight
infection and general sickness. It is really good for you , so eat
up!" She started to smooth the covers and fluff the pillows behind
Tasha's back. Setting the small tray on her lap, she prepared to leave
when Natasha put her hand out and grabbed Josie's arm. 
   "Josie, maybe you are right. I do need a break. Thanks for taking
care of me so well." The girl blushed as a huge smile lit up her face.
"You are welcome, Natasha. I'm just glad that you are ok. I hope that
you feel better soon." Tasha smiled a little bit and took a bite of
the soup, it was good. Nice and hot on her parched throat. As Josie
turned to leave once more, Tasha called to her. "Josie, do you think
you could grab my teddy bear?"



*****************************************************


(08/10)
 
    The class seemed lonely without the fiery Miss Lambert in
attendance. Since she had not shown up to any of her other classes,
Cross correctly assumed that she had taken his 'advice' and rested
peacefully in her dorm room. It had been four days so far. What was
she doing right now, he wondered silently to himself. Suddenly, he
slammed the book he was reading on his desk. What foolishness! The
girl was only a student of his, and a difficult one at that. Who cares
when she is back as long as she is not sick when she does so. But why
did it matter if she was sick or well? She could die and he wouldn't
care. A small part of him twinged at that thought and he realized that
he *did* care. To see that flame burn out so quickly... it would be
such a shame. A part of the fire that kept her alive also touched him.
It heated the cold space around a heart which had long ago turned to
stone to resist breaking into pieces. Lucien remembered another sacred
flame that had burned out too early.
   Deciding that he had had enough, the professor pushed the chair
back from his desk and strolled out of the office with one destination
in mind.
     

*****************************

           Someone was knocking on the door. Glancing at the clock,
Natasha saw that it was after midnight. Who on earth would be calling
at such an hour? Maybe Josie had lost her key or something. Grumbling,
Tasha threw on a robe and shouted out that she would be just a second.

  Opening the door, she was surprised to see her professor standing in
the hallway carrying a box under one arm. "May I come in, Miss
Lambert?" Momentarily taken aback, she only nodded and stepped aside
for the tall man to pass.

 "Professor Cross, what are you doing here so late? And how on Earth
did you get in here?"
      Lucien ignored the last question, there was no reason for the
girl to know exactly how he had gained access to her dorm room, the
night guard certainly wouldn't remember his visit. He glanced at the
box in his hands before presenting it to Natasha. "I simply came by to
give you this. I believe that you discovered a passion in Shakespeare
while researching your project, so I decided that you might like to
have a little piece of the history. The report you did far exceeded my
expectations and I thought you might appritiate a small token to
remember it by." Cross realized he was as close to babbling as he ever
got. He didn't know quite what to say to the young woman, perhaps he
was hoping that she would remember him too?
  Tasha looked down at the box blankly. A present? "Uh, would you like
a seat, Professor? Perhaps something to drink?"
  "Yes, a seat would be nice, thank you." He set himself on the chair
she had indicated. "And please, call me Lucien." *Call me Lucien?* He
had never let another student take that familiarity with him before.
Why was he letting her call him by his given name? Actually asking for
her to do so. To think of it, no one had called him Lucien in a very
long time. Not even his wayward children addressed him that way.
   Natasha sat in a chair opposite from him as she opened the box.
Inside lay an original manuscript for Shakespeare's Sonnets, signed by
The Bard himself. Tasha was flabbergasted, what could she possibly
say? In her own two hands lay a book that was touched by Shakespeare,
not to mention that it was incredebly old. "Pro--" Tasha corrected
herself. "Lucien, I--I don't know what to say. It is wonderful, but
why did you give this to me? It must have cost a fortune."
   Lucien waved her comment about money away. "It was a part of my
personal collection. I have had it for many years and never read it
anymore. I thought that you might appreciate it more." He gently took
the book from her hand and flipped to a certain page that had been
very well worn over the years. Clearing his throat, he started to
recite.
 
 "Let not the marriage of true minds admit impediments. 
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, 
Or bends with the remover to remove. 
O, no!
It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; 
It is the star to every wandering bark, 
Whose worth's unknown, 
Although his height be taken. 
Love's not Time's fool, 
Though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come; 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 
But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 
If this be error, and upon me proved, 
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."


  Tasha sat back and listened as he read the words off the page. The
syllables seemed to flow from his throat to her ear like honey gently
poured over the dips and crevasses of that shell-like appendage. "Your
voice..." She trailed off for a moment before continuing. "You should
have been a DJ. Your voice is so soothing and gentle. I can see you as
an actor onstage. Were you in dramatics when you were younger?"
  Lucien sighed and closed the book, handing it back to her. "No, I
was not an actor. However, I used to read aloud to my children for
their pleasure. It was mine too, I enjoyed the evenings that were
spent by the fire with them. Unfortunately, they went their separate
ways long ago."

*****************************

(09/10)

  Natasha looked at the professor and saw for the first time that he
was very lonely. Sympathy stirred her heart and she reached out a hand
to him. "I'm sorry. You must miss them terribly." Lucien left his
memories behind as he looked at the warm fingers gently pressing his
knee. He set his own hand on top of her's and nodded. "Yes, I miss
them very much. However, I know at least that they are out in the
world somewhere. I can feel them and that brings me comfort."
   Looking out into empty space, he let his mind drift and
unconciously massaged the hand that he held in his own, his thumb
rubbing in circles over Tasha's delicate fingers and her palm. She
started to feel the first stirrings of something more for this strange
professor and quickly squashed it. There was no room for romance in
her life now, especially not with a teacher who was at least 45 if he
was a day. But, as much as logic was peaking it's ugly head into her
thoughts, she could not bring herself to remove her hand from his cool
grasp. A distraction.
  "Lucien, would you like something warm to drink perhaps? It is very
cold outside and your hand is freezing." 

Realizing that he had stayed longer than originally intended, Lucien
rose from his chair. "No, I must go my dear. I didn't expect to stay
as long as I have and you must be tired. You need your rest if you are
to return to your classes on Monday." Tasha started to rise but he
stopped her. "There is no need. I can see my way out. Thank you for
your generous hospitality. I look forward to seeing you in class on
Tuesday night." Before he thought about what he did, he planted a
small kiss on her hand and was out the door before she could blink. 

But blink she did. Tasha sat there for a full minute afterwards,
confused as to what exactly had happened. If the book had not still
been in her hands, she would have thought the entire visit to be a
hallucination. Shrugging her shoulders in acceptance, Natasha put the
book in the top drawer of her desk and headed back to bed.


XXXXXXXXXX****************************
                        
   Driving home from Natasha's housing unit, Lucien wondered yet again
what it was that drew him to this student. The feelings stirring
inside him were hardly professional. Emotion, like a foreign object
that had lodged deep in his throat, cut off his breath and choked his
voice. Only fools fell in love. Love? Where had that distasteful word
come from? Perhaps still feeling sentimental from reviewing the sonnet
which had always reminded him of his lost flower. 
   Gentle Fleur-- so much like her brother in the search for
adventure. And yet, she had the innocence and faith that Nicholas lost
during the Crusades. Those long battles, being in constant danger, the
pointless hacking and slashing of 'foreign invaders'. Muslim families
who had lived in the holy land longer than the men going to fight them
had been Christians.
  Lucien often reflected on such tragedy. It seemed to him that
finding the irony in any difficult situation somehow made it that much
easier to bear. Many thought that this made him sadistic or perhaps
inhuman. He smiled slightly in a sarcastic way. That is what he was,
inhuman. If he concentrated very hard, he could faintly recall what it
was like to be mortal. Fear of death by disease. That is what had
frightened him the most. Any other foe could be met on the field of
battle, but the silent enemy that swept over throngs of struggling
humanity and embraced them all in his terribly silent grip... he
couldn't be fought against in an honourable way. Decay and disease
turned even the most powerful soldier to a quivering mass of flesh
that had as much use as a cockroach.
    Natasha must be feeling the same way now. She had been diagnosed
with some illness that was quite permanent. She was so young, fresh,
innocent. All of her short life was yawning before her, and Lucien
felt certain that Natasha would rise up to meet each hill and valley
with courage, bashing the sword of her intellect against the shield of
adaptability, scattering all enemies. Because after all, only a fool
would insist on troubling one who was obviously so strong and sure of
herself.

     Maybe he was that fool.

  Interfering in Natasha's life further would be pointless and
damaging to her well-being. Lucien didn't seem to think it could hurt
him as well. The thought was as ridiculous as the emotion that bubbled
up and kept him from seeing the road as anything but a red-tinged,
blurry river of asphalt.

***************************************
  
(10/10)

   "What are you thinking about?" Natalie's voice woke him from the
reverie that had firmly taken hold. Lucien started slightly. "I was
merely thinking about how we first met, my dear."
  "Ah," Natalie nodded. "I feel as if that were decades ago instead of
the four years it has been." She nestled her head further into his
chest. "I regret that I must leave you now, Tasha. I have a pressing
engagement tonight. But, I will be back tomorrow and we can do
whatever you wish to do."
  Natalie sighed in acceptance and looked up into his icy blue eyes.
"No one else calls me Tasha anymore. Not even Richie, and I don't talk
to that many of my old classmates anymore. I feel like I am Tasha to
you and to everyone else I am Natalie Lambert, doctor." Lucien leaned
down to give her a short peck on the lips. "You will always be Tasha
to me. No matter how many others call you Doctor." His thumb gently
circled her cheek for a moment before he left the room as silently as
he first appeared.

*************************

        "She will die."

      Lucien heard these words and a slow panic started to envelop his
senses. "Why should she die? She has done nothing to endanger the
community. I have followed the rules, I plan to bring her across when
she is ready." The Enforcer merely smiled, but it wasn't a pleasent,
warm smile. It was colder than a three-day old corpse. "But, she has
expressed that she isn't ready to be brought across yet. Maybe not for
several years. That is too long for us to wait. We cannot afford to
take the risk that she might tell someone. She does nothing for us
other than give us reason to worry."
   Lucien didn't know what to do. But he played his only card, hoping
that it would save her life. "I will explain the situation to her, ask
her if she would be brought across now. If she refuses, then I will
make it to where she does not remember either me or the community."
The Enforcer sitting across from him leaned back in his chair and
thought this over. The silence was thick and hung in the air like the
smoke from the Enforcer's cigarette. Quietly, he reached back across
the table and stamped the butt out in the ashtray.
  "That seems to be a beneficial agreement for us both." Smoke poured
from his mouth as he spoke, making him seem like the giant statue of
Ba'al, in whose great arms the fate of Natalie Lambert rested. "You do
understand, of course, that if she were to remember we would be forced
to intervene, and--" the Enforcer paused here, "we will not be so
kind." He raised his hands slightly in a gesture as if to say, 'you
know what would come next. No need for me to elaborate.' 
  However, Lucien saw this as the great statue raising it's arms,
sending the petite form of his Tasha hurtling into the fiery depths of
the furnace belly belonging to the forgotten god. Her screams for him
echoed in his mind and he closed his eyes. Children burning and
screaming. He would never forget the tinny sounds that the limbs of
those children made as they banged down the metal throat of Ba'al and
into the great fire that roared beneath. In his long life, he had
witnessed many wrongdoings in the name of a higher power. She would
not be one of those casualties. Even if she were to become a vampire,
she would have a master, and Natasha is no man's slave. 
  
"She will not remember."

****************************

         Natalie sighed in contentment as she crawled under the covers
of her bed. She heard the ripping sound of her kitten climbing up the
comforter and into her bed. "Sidney, come here baby." The tiny kitten
looked at the new, higher surroundings, and stumbled on soft paws
toward his mistress. Natalie remembered when Lucien had bought him for
her. Sidney's head had looked so large in comparison to his little
body, and the kitten had literally fallen over. She had dragged Lucien
into the pet shop and he bought her the precious bundle. That had been
three weeks ago and the kitten had grown a good bit since then.
   Sidney hopped up confidently onto her chest and circled, kneading
here and there before curling his tail around his nose and settling
down. The contented purrs coming from the little gray and white bundle
were as loud as a car engine next to Natalie's ear.
     Soon enough, Natalie was asleep. This is what Lucien had been
waiting for, he crept from behind the door where he had been hiding
and sat on the bed next to Natalie. Sidney opened one eye, but not
finding a threat, he closed it and went back to sleep. How long he sat
there, simply watching her, he couldn't say. But soon the sky outside
of the window started to lighten and Lucien knew that he could delay
it no longer.
    "Natasha, wake up." This he said in a quiet voice so that she
would remain partially asleep. "Wha--? Lucien?" She started to rise up
but he stopped her. "What are you doing here?" Lucien silenced her
with a gentle finger to the lips. "Shhh... you must remain quiet, my
love."

  "Why are you crying? What is wrong, Lucien." Natalie was too tired
to register much else in her mind.
"Just be quiet, and if you remember nothing else, remember that you
were loved by someone. Loved so much that they could think of no words
to express their pain at parting from you." Lucien found her heartbeat
and locked his eyes onto her's. "There will be no pain, my Tasha. No
pain. You do not know who I am, you will never remember who I am.
There is no such thing as vampires. You will go on, be happy and
content, find another love. You never loved Lucien LaCroix."
  He shuddered as he finished feeding Natalie those horrible lies.
Pulling her into a quick embrace, his tear splashed onto her cheek.
Lucien didn't stop to look, but dashed out of the window and into the
waning night. He would be lucky to make it home before first light.
Maybe he didn't care. 
   The tear he shed lay on Natalie's cheek, gleaming like fresh dew.
It was crystal clear as was the window that let in the last beams of a
dying moon, and reflected also the coming dawn. Silver and gold warred
with each other in that tiny drop. This was Lucien's human reaction to
the deep pain he felt at, once again, leaving his love in the light
and continuing on in the darkness. But the hardness he had so often
counted on to save him crept back and turned his heart to cold stone.