SPOILERS:  This story contains spoilers for the episodes Dark
Knight 1 and 2 and Be My Valentine.  It is set in
season 2 just after BMV.


                           INDIGO RAIN

                               by

                         Mary Lou Manzie


    Natalie Lambert reached into her refrigerator for a carton
of orange juice.  Opening the container, she paused reflexively,
evaluating the date stamped near the opening.  'April 2,' it
read.  "Good to go," she whispered to an invisible audience and
poured the contents into a waiting glass.  Slowly she swirled
the liquid, first clockwise, then counterclockwise, before
bringing it to her lips and feeling the sting of citrus on her
tastebuds as she swallowed.

    Moments later, <why did it seem like hours?>, she placed the
juice carton back on the refrigerator shelf, pausing to perform
a mental inventory of the appliance's contents.  Milk, 'March
20,' eggs, 'April 5,' yogurt, 'April 12,' she noted as she
tipped the tops of food containers towards her.  Natalie closed
the refrigerator door and sighed as she entered the living room
and deposited herself on the sofa, causing a soft 'hrumph' of
displaced air to assault the silent room.

    She picked up a pencil and paper from the end table,
intending to start a grocery list.  Instead she merely fingered
the pencil, exploring its smooth outer surface as she stared
bleakly into space.  Ordinarily not one to dawdle, she mentally
shook herself into awareness and gripped the writing instrument
tightly.  It was not until she heard the plop, plop, plip of
gentle raindrops on her windowsill that Natalie realized she had
been holding the pencil for more than a few minutes and still
the paper remained blank.

    She remembered her initial purpose and scribbled 'Milk' on
the page before pausing once again to focus on the task at hand.
And not for the first time she felt its approach--a biting and
bitter realization that her life was demarcated by expiration
dates.  Other people, *normal people,* had lives enumerated by
anniversaries, children's birthdays, appointments for home
repairs, PTA meetings.  She had only grocery expiration
dates, reminding her week-by-week that everything has its brief
time of freshness, of usefulness before its inevitable decay.
She wondered ruefully when she had first realized her usefulness
in Toronto had passed.

    Perhaps that was the price of loving the undead, the
progression of whose lives is measured in centuries to her
decades.  Would a friendship of three years merit even a grain
of sand in the hourglass repository of Nicolas de Brabant's
life?

    A warm tear flushed her cheek as she remembered the heady
time before Valentine's Day.  Had it been barely a month ago
when all things seemed possible and love was whispered between
them?  In the interminable hours since she had awakened
alone in her apartment, bereft of that night's memory, Natalie
more than once had allowed herself the thought that it had been
nothing more than a wistful dream.

    In fact, it might have stayed that way if she had not
received her credit card bill the next week.  Seeing a charge
from Hamilton's Jewelers which she did not remember making, she
had gone to the store looking for an explanation.  Taking care
to word her questions carefully, she found answers coupled with
an undeniable sense of loss.  The proprietor greeted her warmly
and asked if her friend had liked the inscription on the
pillbox.  Registering the word 'pillbox' had parted the fog in
her mind, allowing her memories to flood back.

    And flood back they did.  The words of love, caresses,
promises made but unfulfilled--all came tumbling back, along
with Nick's words of betrayal.  Their sting still made her wince
in pain, yet somehow she had convinced herself he had been lying
when he told LaCroix he did not love her.  He had distanced
himself in order to protect her and had erased her memories of
those days to prevent his sire from harming her.  Or so she had
tried to persuade herself.  For to think otherwise was to
believe Nick was only using her--envisioning her scientific
knowledge would craft a cure as surely as he had desperately
invested the same hope in magical incantations and jade cups.

    It was then that Natalie understood what it was to be
utterly and completely alone.  She could not speak of these
events to anyone, least of all Nick.  Whatever his reasons
for erasing her memories, erase them he had.  And now they could
not even share the playful camaraderie that had formerly
characterized their friendship.  Natalie found it more
and more difficult to look him in the eye without betraying the
knowledge of his actions, and that was something she refused to
do.  He had his reasons.  Whether they were to protect her or
if he really did not love her, the result was the same--she
would not show her love for him.  Her pride would not allow it.

    They say pride is a vengeful master.  Since Valentine's Day,
Natalie had suffered its awful yoke.

--------------------------------

    RING!

    Natalie was certain her heart stopped just before it jumped
into her mouth.

    RING!

    She willed herself to breathe as she realized it was the
phone that had startled her.  Startled?  Hell, it'd scared the
living daylights out of her, caught up as she had been in a web
of self-pity.

    RING!

    "Hello?" she managed to choke out.

    "Natalie?" came a surprised voice from the receiver.

    "Yeah, it's me."  She paused.  "Schanke?"

    "Nat, you okay?  Did I interrupt something?" Don Schanke
asked innocently.

    "N--no," she answered.  "I was just staring off into space,
Schank.  You know me, my first night off in weeks, and I don't
know what to do with myself!  What's up?"

    "I was wondering if you knew where my partner might be?  Mr.
Punctuality didn't make it in tonight, and I've just about
exhausted 'my dog ate my homework' excuses.  I swear I saw
steam coming out of Cohen's ears the last time she marched
through the bullpen."

    "I don't know, Schank," she said.  "I haven't spoken with
him in a few days.  I assume you tried the loft and his cell?"

    "Yes to both and the morgue," Schanke sighed.  "I even
called over to that sleezo place he loves, The Raven."

    "And..."  Nat waited.

    "And they haven't seen him either.  I was hoping he was with
you and lost track of the time...," his voice trailed off.

    "Schank!" she replied sharply.

    "I know, I know," he cried.  "You're 'just good friends,'
but geez, cut me some slack.  Who else am I gonna call?"  He
waited, not so patiently.

    "I'll go over and check the loft," Nat found herself
offering.

    "Oh, Nat, would you?  I can't go out on a search-and-rescue
mission without Cohen noticing that I'm AWOL, too," he retorted
quickly.

    "I'll leave in a few minutes, and I'll call you from
there," she said.

    "If I wasn't married, I'd kiss you, Nat!" Schanke exclaimed,
then ventured, "or maybe I should just do us both a favor and
kick my partner in the a--"

    "Thanks for being my knight in shining armor, Detective,"
she smiled, "but that won't be necessary.  Now, let me go so I
can get over there."

    "Okay, Nat, just call me!" he ended.

    Natalie hung up the phone, wondering why she had so readily
agreed to search for Nick.  'I'll probably find him with Janette
or LaCroix,' she thought.  'Won't that be 'fun.'  Mortal crashes
Vampire Party, No Film at 11.'  Still, it was not like Nick to
miss work without a word to anyone.  Could he have left,
deciding Nick Knight was a closed chapter in a very long book?
Maybe if he did love her, he had left to free himself, to free
them both, from what could never be.

    She shook her head.  'If only you knew, Nick.  I don't think
I could ever love anyone else the way I've loved you.  If you're
trapped, so am I, and even if you don't love me, I don't think
I can love another.'

    Grabbing her overcoat, Natalie turned to the door, then
stopped at the hall closet, retrieving her medical bag from the
floor.  'Pretty crazy, a pathologist packing a medical bag to
treat the undead,' she surmised.  But if Nick were injured, she
would be prepared.  Opening the bag she checked for forceps,
scalpels, tubing and tape.  Deciding she had packed the basics
of vampire triage, she left her apartment and headed to her car.

------------------

    Natalie parked on the street outside the loft,
peering expectantly at the upper floor windows as she locked the
car door.  The automatic shutters were still closed despite the
late hour, and she could not discern any light from the main
living area.

    The faint sprinkle that misted the night air when she
left her apartment had developed into a steady shower by the
time she arrived at the loft, forcing Natalie to run quickly to
the control pad.  She entered the code and took the lift to the
second floor.  Opening the door slowly, she peered into the now
familiar room, finding it illuminated only by one dim light
above the kitchen sink.

    "Nick," she called hesitatingly.  "Are you home?"  Hearing
no reply, she proceeded cautiously into the living room, again
trying to summon him in a louder voice.  "Nick?"

    Natalie hurriedly assessed the room and found it to be in
order, then made her way to the stairs.  As soon as her hand
touched the rail, she realized the surface was wet.  Inspecting
her hand, she felt her breath catch in her throat as she
realized the red, sticky substance staining her skin was blood.
"Nick!" she called again, more forcefully this time, as her feet
carried her swiftly up the stairs.

    Her forearm proved a weapon against the partially closed
bedroom door as Natalie bolted into the room.  Her frightened
eyes scanned for signs of life, but were unable to detect any in
the darkness.  Her hand moved automatically to the overhead
light switch.  With a click, the shadows disappeared, revealing
a trail of crimson ending at the bed.  Years of professional
detachment evaporated as she beheld it's sole inhabitant--a
crumpled and deathly still rag-doll of a man, positioned
precariously on his side, facing away from her.  "Nick," she
breathed, rushing toward him.

    She touched his shoulder, gingerly pulling his body towards
her.  Natalie recognized his golden hair and familiar clothes,
otherwise the sight that affronted her might have sent her
screaming into the rainy night.  Trembling hands made their
way to his chest and found the source of the blood that had led
her to him.  She peeled away what was left of his shirt.  "Oh my
God," she cried, inspecting an angry wound, "please, please,
no!"

    "Your deity has no interest in my son.  Surely even you can
see that, Doctor."

    Natalie's body involuntarily shivered at the sound of
LaCroix's commanding voice, a voice that had haunted her waking
and sleeping hours in the days and weeks since Valentine's Day.
She turned to address him, finding him standing in the doorway,
hands clutching what appeared to be blood bags.  "What have you
done?" she demanded as she stared contemptuously at his
marble-like features.

    LaCroix eyed her curiously, then replied, "It was a mortal."
He paused momentarily before continuing.  "I brought Nicholas
here, then went to get these supplies.  Stand aside," he
commanded.  "I will take care of my own.  I have had quite
enough of mortal involvements for one evening."  With that he
strode imperiously into the room and deposited the bags on the
bed.

    Nat's gaze never left the imposing vampire's countenance as
he took his place at Nick's side.  LaCroix's cool stare
burned into her soul, but she refused to move.  "I *said,*" he
emphasized, "your services are not needed!  Get out of my
way, or I shall forget you are his 'friend.'"

    "Whether you like it or not, he needs me," she declared.
"I'm not leaving until I'm sure he's okay."  Natalie mustered
every fiber of strength she had and glared at Nick's master.
Moments passed in strained silence, finally broken by Natalie's
plea.  "This time we both want the same thing, LaCroix.  Let's
work together--for him."  She glanced lovingly at Nick's injured
body.

    LaCroix adjusted his position slightly, allowing Natalie to
make a closer examination of Nick's wound.  Blood was pouring
freely from the gaping hole in his chest.  "Go to the washroom
and get me clean towels, water in a basin and sheets from the
linen closet," she directed.

    Her reluctant assistant moved quickly to gather the
requested supplies.  Upon his return, she motioned in the
direction of her medical bag.  "I'll need my bag too."

    He picked it up and placed it on the bed beside Nick,
affording her easy access.  Natalie opened the bag and removed
several instruments, placing them on a clean sheet.  Grasping a
towel, she cleaned the wound as thoroughly as she could.  "What
happened, LaCroix?  Why are there wood fragments peppered all
through his chest?"

    Natalie continued to work feverishly, dabbing the blood flow
and using her instruments to remove the wood fragments.

    "I was attacked," he began almost softly.

    "*You* were attacked?" she retorted sharply.

    "Yes, *I,*" he replied.  "A hunter--a very clever hunter, it
appears--cornered me at the studio.  I paid him little
heed--I've dealt with his kind before--but this one used a
crossbow with an exploding head.  The wood was blessed and
soaked in holy water."

    Natalie looked up and asked, "And you know this because--"

    "I read it in his blood," came the sullen response.

    She nodded slightly.  "Of course," she whispered.  "But how
was Nick injured?"

    LaCroix slowly took in a breath before speaking.  "Nicholas
had asked to meet me after his 'shift,' I think you call it.  He
arrived as the hunter prepared to attack.  I tried to warn him
off, but he flew between us and was literally caught in the
middle."

    "Nick saved your life."  It was a simple statement.

    "I was in no real danger," he huffed.

    "Then why isn't Nick healing?" Natalie asked curtly.  "I
expected to see signs of his body repairing itself by now.
He continues to lose blood, and the wounds aren't closing."

    "The heart is our only vulnerable organ," LaCroix confessed.
"A blow there is painful, yet seldom fatal.  Perhaps his
unnatural diet..."

    "No," she protested.  "I've seen his body heal before.  This
isn't right."  She paused, then grabbed a blood bag and the
tubing from her medical kit.  "This is human?"

    "Better for healing such a wound," LaCroix offered.

    "Help me.  I'll set up a direct shunt to his stomach then
continue to remove the wood fibers," Nat explained.

    Working together, they established a blood flow to Nick.
His body absorbed the liquid at an alarming rate, but showed no
signs of healing.  "Watch the blood levels carefully and
replenish the bags," the doctor directed.

    Almost an hour later, Natalie once again inspected the
shunt.  "No signs of slowing down, and we're almost out
of blood," she thought aloud.  Exhaustion should have claimed
her long ago, but she continued to work, slowly and meticulously
removing tiny fragments from the area surrounding Nick's heart.

    "Doctor!" LaCroix gasped, "I sense Nicholas is weakening.
Use my blood."  His pale blue eyes reflected more concern than
she thought possible.

    "Lie down on the other side of the bed and elevate your arm
with pillows," she instructed.  Reluctantly leaving Nick's side,
she approached the ancient vampire and established a direct line
between sire and son.

    Almost as soon as LaCroix's blood began to course through
his body, Nick moaned for the first time.  "Nick," Nat called
softly.  "Can you hear me?"  Another moan.

    "He is experiencing deep pain, Doctor.  He does not
recognize you.  Keep working," LaCroix demanded.

    "I've taken out all the fibers from around the heart I could
find, but I'm afraid there may be some slivers in the heart
muscle itself," she reasoned.  "I thought his recuperative
powers would make this unnecessary."

    "I told you our hearts are vulnerable to attack.  You must
remove whatever foreign objects you find there before he can
recover.  In his weakened condition, you may not have much
time," he concluded wearily, as Nick's body continued to pull
LaCroix's life blood into itself.

    "I'll get some lamps in here.  I need more light!" she
exclaimed, all the while imagining that what she really needed
was a proper O.R. and a full team of cardiovascular surgeons
standing by.

    The make-shift operating theater was hastily made ready.
Natalie skillfully yet delicately used her scalpel to reveal the
remaining slivers of wood still embedded in the chambers of
Nick's heart.  Over an hour later, she had cleaned the wound of
foreign matter and stitched the area closed.  After removing the
extra lighting from the bedroom, she cleansed Nick's face and
arms, stealing several glances at her patient's blood donor,
whose pale complexion seemed almost pearlized in the now-dim
light.  She removed the needle from LaCroix's arm and replaced
the connection with a final blood bag.

    "Doctor," LaCroix whispered groggily, "Nicholas..."

    "I've hung another unit of human blood, LaCroix," Nat
advised.  "You've given as much as you can right now.  You need
to feed.  I'm afraid all Nick has downstairs is steer.
I'll get you several bottles?"

    "One bottle only, Doctor," came an irritated response.
"I'll go to the Raven for supplies as soon as I've downed
Nicholas' vile brew."

-----------------------------------

    The cold dampness seemed to seep into Natalie's bones as
she sat near her charge, staring steadily out the bedroom window
as the rain poured down.  LaCroix had recovered enough to
venture out for blood supplies, and Natalie had called Schanke
to tell him Nick was so sick with the flu that he hadn't called
in.  That at least had bought them both some time.  Now Natalie
was alone with Nick, who still had not stirred following
surgery.  Nat had begun to talk aloud, hoping to reach whatever
dark corner of his soul hid him.

    She left Nick's side and approached the window, feeling
aged beyond her years.  "You know, Nick, my mother used to call
this an Indigo Rain.  So blue that it is almost black as night.
The kind of rain that washes your very soul.  I wonder if you
ever feel that way?  Your soul holds so much pain and regret,
you probably think a hurricane couldn't wash it all away."  She
turned from the window hoping to engage him in conversation but
found only his pale features reflected back to her.  "You're
wrong, you know.  There is forgiveness for you and happiness,
too.  Maybe I'm not the one, but someone is if you just let
them in.  Keep up your quest, Nick, it's the most human part of
you," she sighed, shivering slightly, then took her place at his
side, fumbling under the covers for his cool hand.  "Just don't
leave until I can say these things to you and have you
understand them," she pleaded quietly, placing a soft kiss on
his knuckles.

    "How touching."  The razor's edge of LaCroix's voice cut
through the darkened room.

    Natalie replaced Nick's hand under the blanket and turned to
face the master vampire.  "You brought more blood bags?"

    "Ten.  I cannot imagine he will need more.  He must be
healing by now," LaCroix almost ordered.

    "I would have thought so.  Some of the minor cuts appear to
be closing, but the heart wound is the same.  Give me another
bag, and I'll hang it," she declared.

    LaCroix did as instructed while quietly observing Natalie's
gentleness of manner and cataloguing the soft touches and
caresses she administered to her silent patient.  Two thousand
years had rendered him more than expert on the human
condition, although he seldom disclosed the depth of his
knowledge.  Over the years, he had used what he had discovered
first to procure food, then to amuse himself, as the
interminable centuries trudged forward like faceless soldiers.
In his time he had seen it all--kindness, depravity, warmth,
vengeance, jealousy, hate.  Now it was time to use his
experience to extricate his son from yet another mortal.

    "Fool," he muttered under his breath.

    Natalie looked up from her task to find the tall vampire
shaking his head.  "What?" she mouthed.

    He paused for a moment.  "I said *fool,*" he repeated,
glaring directly at her.

    She recoiled as if struck by a well-aimed blow.

    "Do you think you are the first mortal woman to minister to
my son in 800 years?" he sneered.  "How many do you think have
offered to help him?  Tens?  Hundreds?" he taunted.  Natalie
stood silent as a statue as he made his way to her.
"*Thousands?*" he emphasized, stopping mere inches in front of
her and tracing a thin line with his index finger from her
forehead slowly down her cheek to her chin.  "And all beautiful,
sensuous--intrigued by what we are.  Willing to
do...*anything.*"

    The humiliation bubbling inside muted her.

    "Do you wonder where you fit in, Doctor Lambert?"  He paused
momentarily.  "My son never lies."

    The icy words wedged between them.

    "'I do not love this woman,'" he quoted.  "I know you
remember that night, even if he chooses to delude himself that
you've forgotten."

    Silence.

    "His words must tear at your heart!"

    "Why are you doing this?" she questioned dully.

    LaCroix eyed her seriously, then chuckled.  "I *like* you,
Dr. Lambert, much as that may surprise you.  I hate to see you
throw away your youth, your intelligence, your...heart on
someone who cannot respond in kind.  It is not who we are.

    "We are players in a game--a game of survival.  And it
matters not whom we use to survive, for survive we will," he
concluded.

    "But Nick doesn't need human blood to survive, even you know
that," she struggled.

    "Nicholas may drink that vile concoction, but he continues
to consume hearts and souls.  He needs them as much as he
needs blood.  Think about the women you have seen him with,
Doctor.  Do you doubt for a moment they would deny him
anything?"  He reveled in her confusion.  "Would *you?*"

    A plaintive groan directed their attention to the bed.
"Nick," Natalie uttered as she rushed to his side and softly
stroked his now-furrowed brow.  "We're here--LaCroix and I.
Wanna wake up and join the party?" she asked lightly.

    Nick slowly shook his head from side to side as if trying to
untangle from a sleepy shroud, but sank back into exhaustion
after only a momentary effort.

    From the other side of the bed, LaCroix observed the
mortal's interaction with his son.

    Natalie lifted the bandages covering Nick's chest wound and
frowned.  "This isn't healing and his heart rate has slowed way
below normal even for him."  She turned pleading eyes to the
pale vampire.  "You told me your blood would heal him.  Why
hasn't it?"

    LaCroix considered her for a moment, then answered
truthfully, "I don't know.  He should have healed hours ago.
Perhaps there was a toxin on the wood..."

    Natalie's head snapped to attention.  "You said the wood was
soaked in holy water!  You read it in the attacker's blood.
What haven't you told me, Lacroix?" she demanded.

    Humans attribute a feeling of dread in their souls to
someone walking on their graves.  If it were possible for a
vampire to experience such an emotion, LaCroix was certain a
phalanx of Carthaginians had just trampled over his.  "I--I
didn't believe it..."

    "What?  Tell me!" she cried.

    "I thought it was only holy water, but the hunter's blood
hinted at a poison that attacks the heart.  Of course I
dismissed it--it is not possible," he reasoned, almost to
himself.

    "Tell me everything you detected, LaCroix.  Is there an
antidote?  More blood?" she questioned anxiously.  He shook his
head wearily.  "There has to be something!  Think!!"

    "I only picked up slivers of ideas.  A poison for the heart
because vampires cannot love.  That is all I derived--that
phrase, 'vampires cannot love,'" he murmured as he closed his
eyes trying to summon more information.

    "'Vampires cannot love?'" Natalie repeated, gently caressing
the words with her lips.  "But they can, LaCroix!" she
exclaimed.  "In his time I believe Nick has loved--as a friend,
a son, a husband.  In his own way, I believe he may even
love me...  Fool that I am, I love him."  She waited for her
words to strike LaCroix, but only a faint shadow of
acknowledgement crossed his serious eyes.

    Looking back at Nick, Natalie realized that desperate
measures were needed to help him now.  "Whatever debt he owes
you, is it worth this price?" she queried.

    LaCroix's icy stare returned to the mortal doctor.  "I loved
his sister and wanted to make her one of us, but Nicholas would
not allow it.  I told him I would let her go, but I would take
as my debt any mortal woman he ever loved."

    "So that's it?  For over 750 years he has never dared love a
mortal or let himself be loved for fear of your retribution?
But what of Alyssa?  Surely there were others..."

    "Nicholas tried to bring Alyssa across.  When she saw what
he was, she chose to go the light instead of joining him in the
darkness.  The others," he paused before continuing, "the
others, I manipulated so he lost them."  LaCroix held her in his
steely gaze.

    Natalie felt that the pieces of a giant puzzle had finally
been fitted into place.  "The hunter was wrong, LaCroix.
Vampires *can* love.  You've proved it yourself," she declared.
"You loved Nick's sister and, in your own way, I think you love
Nick too.  But love has hurt you both."

    The fog of confusion finally lifted from her brain, and
Natalie moved as one possessed.  Grabbing her medical bag
hastily, she retrieved a scalpel and held it closely to her left
wrist.

    Mesmerized by her swift actions, LaCroix lost precious
seconds before grabbing her arm.  "What do you think you're
doing, Doctor?" he demanded.

    "A wound to the heart can only be healed by love," she
stated slowly as if instructing an errant child.

    "No, Doctor!" LaCroix protested.  "Nicholas may love you,
but such wounds will have weakened his control.  I warn you--if
he drinks from you, he will not be able to stop.  You will have
saved him only to have grief claim him later."

    The auburn-haired mortal's face shone with an almost
ethereal glow.  "Then you will have to convince him to live,
LaCroix.  Forgive him the debt.  Let him love again.  Convince
him it was what I wanted.  If my love heals him, ask yourself
what would have happened if Nick hadn't taken the arrow for you.
You see, he *did* save your life," she reasoned.  "I love him,
and if my love saves him, it is a price I willingly pay."

    Natalie turned her attention to her right hand, drawing the
scalpel across her left wrist.  "Help me sit him up," she
directed as crimson rivulets bathed her forearm.

    Together they raised Nick's upper torso, allowing Natalie to
hold her wrist to his mouth as she urged him on.  "Please,
Nick, drink.  Drink of my love for you.  Let it heal you.  Do it
for me, for us," she prayed.

    LaCroix placed a cool hand over hers and begged her
attention.  "I forgive Nicholas this debt, Doctor Lambert."  He
watched as her blood slowly moistened his son's lips.  Gradually
the red liquid coated his tongue, and Nick took his first
swallow of her essence.

    "That's it.  Drink," she beseeched him.  "Live..."
Her voice softened as Nick's mouth suckled her wrist, drawing
again and again from the well of her soul.

    Nick swam toward consciousness.  Pain imprisoned his body
but his heart flew on warm breezes.  Memories and emotions
flowed through him--their first meeting in the morgue, her
interest in him, her compassion, her anticipation of
Valentine's Day, her confusion about his feelings towards her
but finally her love, clear and shiny as the last brilliant dawn
he remembered eight long centuries past.

    Natalie held Nick's face in her gaze, steadily bonding her
wrist to his lips.  The more deeply he drank from her, the more
light-headed she became.  Finally she closed her eyes to rest
and sank slowly towards him and unconsciousness.

    LaCroix stopped her descent and pulled her wrist gently from
Nick's lips.  "Enough, Nicholas," he admonished.  "Your wounds
are healing now," he appraised, smiling at the sight of new skin
forming on the battleground of Nick's chest.  He drew Natalie's
slumbering form onto the bed.

    Nick's eyelids fluttered open, and he registered LaCroix's
figure floating above him.  "Welcome back," the older vampire
greeted.

    "Natalie?" he groaned, his voice tentative and pained.
LaCroix drew Nick's eyes to the figure beside him.

    Panic gripped his mended heart as Nick reached for her.  "I
took too much," he mourned, realizing that her clasped hand was
not warm to his touch.

    "No!" LaCroix reassured.  "The good doctor gave you her
blood, but apparently it was her love that cured your injuries.
She is weak, but she will recover with proper care," he
hesitated.

    For a moment Nick was certain he was dreaming, and although
pleasant, he discerned the fallacy, for even a dream such as
this could never assuage the nightmare of his reality.

    LaCroix as general had been an awe-inspiring sight to the
enemies of Rome.  Although nearly two thousand years had
intervened, the basic premise of the military remained the
vampire's credo, 'sometimes a battle must be sacrificed to
assure the outcome of the entire war.'  "This is not a dream,
Nicholas.  You saved my life, and now I'm saving yours," he
explained.  "You recovered from the toxin on the arrow," he
glanced at Natalie, "because her love was the antidote.  I will
not speculate if there would have been one for me."

    LaCroix waited for him to fully digest the words.  "This
debt to me is paid, Nicholas.  We will speak no more of it.
Love this mortal in whatever way and for whatever time you can,"
he stated.  As testament, he offered the benediction of his own
hand over those of his son and his beloved.

    "Sleep now and I will attend to Dr. Lambert until you are
able to do so," LaCroix concluded.

---------------------------------------

    Orange and golden butterflies swarmed feather-light kisses
on her brow, causing Natalie to raise her hand lazily to brush
them away.  Her hand, however, became caught in a cool snare,
and she tried to free herself.

    "Wake up, sleeping beauty," the wind whispered softly in her
ear.

    "Mmmm...awake," she protested quietly though her eyelids
remained closed.

    A light chuckle in a familiar tone tickled the nape of her
neck.  "If you're awake, why are your eyes closed?" the wind
speculated conversationally.

    Natalie's eyelids flickered open, and she was greeted by a
radiant smile.  "Nick?" she asked, almost fearful to break the
spell if this were a dream.

    "Nat," he answered, waiting a few moments for her mind to
clear.  "How are you feeling?"

    She tried to raise herself from the bed, but sank back
quickly as a wave of exhaustion hit.  "Oh," she gasped.

    "Whoa.  Easy, easy," Nick encouraged, helping her resume her
position on the bed.  "I have some fruit juice and light snacks
on the nightstand when you're ready.  You need to get your
energy back, my love."

    Natalie shook herself awake and stared deeply into his
denim-blue eyes.  "My love?" she repeated.

    His answering smile lit the room.  "My love," he emphasized
with a kiss to her cheek.  "My life."  A kiss to her nose
followed.  "My soul."  His lips joined with hers.

    "My soul?" Natalie repeated, staring at him lovingly at the
close of their kiss.  "I like that one, too," she confirmed.

    Nick smoothed an errant whisp of her hair from her brow.
"Hear that?" he asked, tipping his head toward the bedroom
window.

    She listened intently, but scowled in response as only
silence reached her ears.  "I don't hear anything," she
confessed.

    "The rain ended.  What you hear now is sunshine," he
offered, grinning delicately at her confusion.  "Your Indigo
Rain washed away my regrets, just as you promised."

    Natalie studied his features for several long minutes, then
scanned the room.  "Where's LaCroix?" she asked.

    "He stayed with us while we recovered.  Made certain I had
enough nourishment that I wouldn't snack on you again," he
added sheepishly, "and left a few hours ago."  He gazed happily
into her eyes.  "Thank you."

    "For what?" she responded, truly baffled by his words.

    "For saving me and retiring my debt to LaCroix.  I have a
long way to go, but as long as I have your love, I'll dedicate
every day to repaying society for my sins.  I don't want you
ever to put yourself in such danger for me again, my dearest
one, but I thank you for doing so.  Now I owe you all my love
for the rest of my life," he finished with another kiss to her
brow.

    Natalie's delicate fingers caressed his face, drawing him
nearer.  "Then let's not waste another moment, Nick.  I want to
start collecting from you starting *now,*" she concluded,
pulling him on top of her and kissing him passionately.

-----------------------------------

    Wearily, LaCroix settled himself into bed in his quarters at
The Raven.  A faint smile brushed his lips as a last waking
thought crossed his consciousness.  'Enjoy your respite while
you can, Nicholas, for what I have created is but another
bargaining chip in our little game...'

----------------------------------------------------------------

FINI