Deja Vu
Part Three

by Nancy Kaminski
(c) April 1997

Natalie looked at her watch, and was surprised to find it was only ten thirty. She felt as if she had been up forever, not three hours.

Nick was wandering restlessly around the main floor of the loft, examining the forgotten memorabilia of his many lives. He flipped slowly through the paintings stacked against the wall without comment, although he looked puzzled by the wildly-colored abstracts, then moved over to the piano and pressed a key, sending a single note chiming through the silent loft.

Natalie watched him from the kitchen table. She had switched to downing cup after cup of instant coffee in the hope that the caffeine would inspire some kind of a bright idea. So far all it had done was put her nerves on edge, send her to the bathroom twice, and give her precisely one idea. She didn't consider the idea particularly bright---in fact, it scared the daylights out of her.

Nick finally ended up sitting on the sofa, absently fiddling with his fingers and staring into the distance. Natalie wondered what he was thinking about. His family? His future?

She admitted to herself she couldn't even begin to imagine what his thought processes were like. The enormous gap between them, both in terms of time and culture, seemed too wide to bridge. But at the same time, there were haunting familiarities in the way he tilted his head, the way he gestured when he talked, that reminded her of the old Nick. The only thing missing was the underlying sadness that was always present in Nick, the weight of eight hundred years of hating his existence. Even Nicolas' grief at losing his family was somehow a lighter burden.

She went to sit next to him and said, "You know, you still do that."

"What?"

"This. With your fingers. When you're thinking hard, you..." Natalie ran out of words and pointed.

He smiled briefly. "Bad habit. My father always told me to learn to sit still and be dignified as befitting my rank, but I keep forgetting. And I suppose my rank doesn't matter any longer." He stilled his fingers and turned to face her. "What are we going to do now?"

"Well," she said reluctantly, "I've got an idea. But it's dangerous, and I don't know if you'll agree to go along with it."

"I have faced many dangers in my life. What is your idea?"

She took a deep breath. "Ask Lacroix to hypnotize you---put you under a small spell---to see if he can unlock your memory." It sounded crazy, even to her. She watched his face as she spoke.

He was horrified. "Invite the wolf into the fold? Surely you are not serious! He tried to kill both of us! Why would he even think of helping?"

She conceded, "He was trying to kill me, but he wasn't trying to kill you. He was trying to reclaim you as his son. Strange as it seems, I believe he loves you. I might be able to persuade him that giving back your memory is the best way to keep you part of his family." Assuming he hasn't decided to abandon his rebellious child completely and find a new object of obsession, she added to herself.

"His family." He made a distasteful face at the thought.

"Yes, his vampire family, you and Janette. He loves you both, in his own way." She smiled. "You are his favorite, you know."

"An honor I do not believe I desire. Hmmm." Nick looked thoughtful. "And he can do this without, uh, biting me?" He reflexively touched the bandage on his throat. "This is what he did to me last night, isn't it? He took away my will, and then he bit me."

"All he does is look at you---he doesn't have to touch you. He is very old and powerful. I've seen him do it." She smiled. "Actually, I've seen you do it. He's better at it than you were, though."

"Well, if he's older, he's had more practice." Nick smiled back at her. "How old did you say he is?"

"Ohh, very old. He was a Roman general, or so you told me. That makes him about two thousand years old."

"Amazing." Nick became serious. "Can you trust him?"

"I think, if he gives his word, he will keep it. He is honorable in his own way. You have to be careful, though. He can be very literal when it suits him."

Nick pursed his lips and sat back, considering the plan. "If you can persuade him to agree to this, I will also," he said slowly. "Though the thought makes my bones turn to water." He looked at his hands; he was twiddling his fingers again. He stilled them. "I don't like being afraid---but I am."

"You should be. But I can't see any other way out of this." She rose and said briskly, "But before I talk to Lacroix, I want to do some tests. Will you let me take a little bit of blood? I promise, it won't hurt." She headed for her medical bag.

He sighed. "It seems everyone wants my blood, even more than the Saracens did." He watched with interest as she readied her hypodermic and found a vein in his arm, then grimaced as he watched the red liquid fill the hypodermic. "You can just look at it and tell why I lost my memory?"

"Well, no, I have to use a microscope---a thing that makes tiny things look big---and I mix chemicals with it and see what happens." At his uncomprehending look, she continued, "It's a doctor thing, don't worry about it."

"I won't, but..." He sighed again and shook his head. "There is too much to learn, in too little time. I don't understand what I see. I hate it."

"I know." She patted his hand. "Nicolas, will you be all right here if I leave for a few hours?"

"Where will you go?" He looked apprehensive.

She shook the vial of blood. "I want to take this to my laboratory. And then I have to buy some food, and feed my cat."

"What about Lacroix? Will you be safe?"

"Yes, of course. It's day, and he can only go out at night. You'll be fine, too, just don't answer the door."

"No problem there. I don't know how," he said bitterly.

She let that pass. "Oh, and there is a chance that your partner, Don Schanke, might stop by. He does now and then. So if you hear the elevator," she gestured at the elevator door, unsure if she had told him what it was called, "go upstairs. Don't let him know you're here." She tried to think of the other things that might happen to alarm him while she was gone. She pointed at the telephone, which up to this point had remained miraculously silent. "This might make a ringing noise. The box next to it is a, uh, mechanical secretary, and will take a message. You'll hear voices."

He looked suddenly weary. Rising to his feet, he made a small bow and excused himself. "I'm going to the bedchamber now. I need to think. I will see you in a few hours?"

She nodded. He went upstairs and disappeared into the bedroom, her gaze following him.

Natalie gathered her things together and checked around the loft to make sure everything was safe to leave in Nick's uncertain custody. Satisfied, she went upstairs to tell him she was leaving.

The door to his room was partially closed. She peeked around the edge, unwilling to disturb him if he was trying to sleep.

Nick was on his knees next to the bed, his hands clasped in prayer. There was a look of unbearable sadness on his face as his lips moved silently, reciting words not spoken to God in eight centuries.

She withdrew and silently left the loft.

~~~~~

Natalie decided not to deposit her new blood sample at the morgue---she didn't want to have to explain why she was drawing blood on her day off---and so went directly home. It would be fine in the back of her fridge for the meantime.

She was greeted by a hurtling ball of gray fur. Sydney launched himself off the back of the sofa into her arms, mewing loudly. "So much for standoffish cats, huh?" she said affectionately as she scratched the sweet spot under his chin.

He stayed in her arms just long enough to make his point, then squirmed to get down. He marched directly to his bowl, looking at her expectantly.

Shaking her head at the constancies of cat ownership---feed, clean, feed, clean---she gave him a can of his favorite, far-too-expensive cat food and plopped down on the sofa.

She stared at the scrap of paper on which she had written Lacroix's phone number. Or at least she assumed it was his---it had been in Nick's personal phone directory under an entry that read only "L." Picking up the phone and dialing was one of the hardest things she had ever had to do.

As she listened to the phone ring on the other end, half-hoping it wasn't answered, she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and tried to calm her racing heart. She felt as if he would be able to hear it, right through the phone. Hell, he probably can, she thought. Just like he could torment Nick with those creepy radio monologues. He always seems to know everything.

After seven rings, the phone was picked up. There was silence for a moment, then she heard that silken, sinister voice. "Yes?"

"Lacroix? This is..."

"Doctor Lambert." His voice was icy. He didn't say anything else, just waited for her to continue.

She steeled herself and went on. "It's about Nick."

"Of course. It's always about Nicholas."

"We need your help."

He laughed humorlessly and hung up.

"Damn it!" she exploded, and hit the memory redial button. He picked up on the first ring.

Natalie spoke quickly before he could say a word. "Don't you dare hang up on me again! Nick needs you to help him regain his memory. If you love him as much as you constantly say you do on that damned radio show of yours, act like a father and give him your help! Now, when he really needs it, and actually wants it!

"This isn't a contest, Lacroix, with Nick as the prize. What happened, happened because he wanted it, not because I made him." She took a deep breath. "Do you want him to remember you as something other than a fiend? I know that you must have been close once, in spite of everything Nick has told me. Don't you want him to remember that?" She ran out of argument and fell silent, her heart in her mouth. She prayed, if one could pray for an ancient fiend, that Lacroix would listen to her.

He waited so long to speak Natalie feared he had simply walked away from the phone while she spoke. Finally, he said, "Be at the loft tonight at nine," and hung up again with a decisive click.

Natalie sat staring at the receiver, then hung it up. Her hands were shaking. She had no idea if Lacroix had agreed to meet them that night to order to help Nick, or to kill them both. Nick, I hope you say a prayer for us both, she thought. We're gonna need it.

~~~~~

After changing into more comfortable clothes and taking a shower, Natalie made a quick trip to the grocery store and stocked up on food, nothing that couldn't be fixed in a few minutes. Damned if I'm going to be cooking every free minute. He'd better get used to frozen dinners.

When she got back to the loft, it was three o'clock. It's so strange to see the blinds up in the daytime, she thought, looking upward at the large second-story windows. I have to remember to move that poor cactus into the window. It'll appreciate real light instead of a grow lamp. She had asked Nick whatever possessed him to buy a plant, especially one that required sun, but he had just laughed and said it was a gift from a friend---Felix or something?---as a reminder of something or other. Somehow he had kept it alive, although it certainly hadn't grown an inch in the three years he had had it.

She shrugged off the horticultural thoughts and lugged two of the three grocery bags into the elevator, punching the 'up' button with her elbow. "Nick!" she called when the door slid open. No answer. She spied him stretched out on the couch, just like he had often slept in his previous life. This time, however, he was snoring softly---something he never did as a vampire.

She dumped the bundles on the kitchen table, went over to him and shook him. "Wake, up, Nicolas, I have some news."

Nick started awake and leaped to his feet, his hand going again to his belt as if preparing to be attacked. Natalie jumped as well, startled at his reaction.

When he saw it was Natalie, he colored slightly and said, "I beg your pardon, Natalie. I fear I've been a soldier too long." He regained his composure and straightened his clothes. At least he looked more rested than he had earlier. "How fares everything?"

"Fine. I bought some more food, and the cat is set for another day." She led him over to the kitchen table, where she instructed him to unpack the bags. As he lifted things out, examining each package curiously, she continued, "I also called Lacroix. He's coming over here this evening, at nine. I think he's agreed to help."

"You think he's agreed?" He paused, a pouch of salad-in-a-bag in his hand, and looked inquiringly at her. "What did he say?"

"Well, nothing, really. He just said to be here at nine. We have to hope he's going to help." She picked up a small glass jar and showed it to him. "Just in case, I bought a weapon. Garlic juice. Vampires hate garlic, and this is very strong. It might not stop him, but it'll slow him down a bit."

"Hmmmm. Is there any other weapon we can use? If the garlic isn't enough?"

"I thought of that." She went to the table at the far end of the room, opened the plain box sitting there, and lifted out a crude wooden cross, just two thick sticks lashed together with leather strips. Holding it carefully, she showed it to Nick. "This cross belonged to a saint, Jeanne d'Arc. She gave it to you, many years ago. You've kept it all this time, even though a holy thing such as this could hurt you. Vampires can't tolerate holy symbols. Between this and the garlic juice, we might have a small chance if things go badly."

Nicholas said wonderingly, "I knew a saint?"

"Yes, you did. I'll tell you about it when we have more time." She carefully laid the cross on the counter next to the garlic juice, and said, "There's one more bundle of groceries downstairs in the car. I'll get it and be right back."

"May I go with you? I promise not to faint with fear. I am becoming accustomed to the sight of this new world of mine." He smiled his little boy smile at her. "I had better learn to go outside. It's either that or join a monastery, hidden away from the world forever. And I don't think I want that."

She laughed. "All right, you can come and carry the bag."

"And then, would you take me out in your cart-without-a-horse? What do you call it?"

"A car."

"Your car, then. So I may see more of this magical city, this Toronto? Do we have time before we must prepare for Lacroix?"

Natalie looked at him consideringly, then threw her caution to the winds. She shruggedand smiled. "Why not? You should see your new world. After all, we both might die tonight. Let's live a little!"

They went down in the elevator together in companionable silence. Once outside, she gave Nick the grocery bag and sent him back upstairs by himself after instructing him on elevator operation. She laughed as he determinedly punched the buttons, a look of intense concentration on his face, and waved goodbye as the door rattled shut.

Three minutes later, he arrived back downstairs, a pleased look on his face. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"Yes, please." He looked upward at the skyline again, a look of interest instead of fear on his face.

Natalie had an idea. "Let's take your car. It's the green one in there. The roof comes off so you'll be able to see better." She pointed to the garage. "I stole your keys when I left earlier." She jingled the key ring. "Now I can open that door."

She did just that. Once in the garage, she settled Nick in the passenger seat of the Caddy, adjusted the seat so she could reach the pedals, and showed him how to buckle the seat belt. Inserting the key in the ignition, she warned, "Here comes some noise," and started the engine.

Nick looked like a kid on his first amusement park ride---fear mixed with anticipation. "Now the roof comes off." She hunted around the dashboard and found the switch controlling the convertible top. With a jerk it rose up, then folded itself neatly into place. Nick watched in fascination. "And now," she said with a flourish, "the garage door." She pressed the remote on the visor and the door slid up smoothly.

Putting the car in gear, she said gaily, "Here we go!" and drove out into the alley. Nick gripped the door handle as they started moving. She closed the garage door with the remote and headed into the street.

As they merged into the afternoon traffic, Nick's face broke into a grin. "Amazing!" he said to her, as they motored sedately towards the center of the city at exactly the speed limit. "I have never traveled so fast!" He laughed and dared to put his hand over the doorsill, feeling the force of the slipstream.

"Wait until we get on the highway." Natalie smiled at him briefly, and then put her eyes back on the road. Better not rubberneck, or I might pull a Nick and forget which lane I'm supposed to be in, she thought, grinning to herself.

She drove down Yonge Street towards the lake and the CN Tower. Nick practically gave himself whiplash by trying to see everything at once on the busy, colorful street, asking questions nonstop. She zigzagged back and forth between Yonge and Spadina on the crowded downtown streets, pointing out the major city sights as if she were entertaining an out-of-town relative.

They made a brief foray onto the Gardiner Expressway, but after three minutes at highway speed and several lane changes, Natalie noticed Nick was looking decidedly green around the edges and was clutching the door handle so hard his knuckles were white. She took the next exit ramp and ended up on Lake Shore Boulevard.

Nick sighed with relief and relaxed when they slowed down. "I don't think I will ever get used to going that fast. It isn't natural!" He looked at her admiringly. "You are very good at this driving. Do all women drive?"

"Look around." She gestured to the other cars on the road. "Practically everyone drives. And soon you will, too."

"Of course. You say this is my car, correct?"

"Yes, and those others in the garage. This one's your favorite, though---you treat it as though it were your child. It's old for a car, and most people consider it, uh, unique."

Nick ran his hand along the top of the door. "I like it. But this color..." He made a face. "I think I like the black ones or red ones better."

Natalie giggled. "I hope you remember this conversation when you get your memory back. You always get insulted when people say something about the color." She glanced at her watch. "Ohmigosh, it's six o'clock. Time to head for home and get ready."

"So soon?" Nick looked disappointed.

"We have to eat something, and you should get cleaned up. You've had the same clothes on for, what, almost two days now."

"Is that a problem?" He looked down at himself. "They're not dirty."

"Yes, well, it's customary to change clothes every day here. And bathe."

He shook his head. "Amazing." He slanted a glance at her and added, "You'll have to tell me what clothes to wear. I don't know what is correct for the occasion."

"Hmmm." Natalie pretended to think. "Entertaining a potentially deadly immortal demon. Sounds like a semi-casual affair to me. I'll see what's in your closet."

The rest of the ride passed in silence, except for the occasional question from Nick. He was much more at ease, slouching back in the seat and occasionally gazing straight upwards into the sky.

When at last the Caddy was safely back in the garage and the engine shut off, Nick turned to her and said seriously, "Thank you, Natalie, for everything. For telling me the truth, and explaining about where I am. I think what is to come will be difficult, but we will get through it. I prayed this afternoon for us, Natalie. We must have faith that all will be well."

Natalie took his hand. "I hope so, Nicolas." She squeezed his hand lightly. "But God helps those who help themselves, so let's go get ready."

He fought briefly with his seat belt, managed to unbuckle it, and climbed out of the car. "By all means, let us get ready." He smiled. "And let us eat, too. I'm hungry."

~~~~~

Once back in the loft, Natalie hunted through Nick's closet and drawers for some fresh clothes. Handing Nick a neat stack of underwear, socks, shirt and jeans, she looked at him critically and told him, "Time for some more lessons in plumbing. I'll show you how the shower works."

In the bathroom she pointed out the faucets and told him how to control the temperature. "Here's the soap...this is soap for your hair---just use a little!---here's a washcloth..." She turned to the door, checking to make sure there were towels on the rack. "I'll get dinner started. We'll eat in a little while."

Walking down the stairs, she could hear water gushing. At least he'll meet Lacroix and whatever grief he brings tonight clean and fed, she thought fatalistically. And wearing clean underwear.

In the end, Natalie was too apprehensive to try to cook any of the food she had bought that afternoon. After staring in the open refrigerator for five minutes without inspiration, she finally ordered Chinese takeout from the Golden Lotus. She was a long-standing customer---or rather Nick was, since he usually paid for her dinner when she ate at his place.

Mr. Wu seemed surprised she ordered dinner for two instead of one. "Mr. Knight has finally decided to join you? Excellent. I will include a special treat for you both. No charge. Once he has tasted Mrs. Wu's shrimp eggroll, he will never let you eat alone again."

Nick came downstairs tousled and pink from his shower just as Natalie was paying Mr. Wu's teenage son, Henry, for the large white bag of takeout. "Dinner's here!" she announced, "I ordered food from a restaurant near here instead of cooking."

"You can order a meal from an inn and they will bring it to you?" he asked, opening the bag and removing the fragrant white containers. "Very convenient. What is this?" He started opening boxes.

Natalie handed him a fork and a plate. "This is Chinese food---uhh, from Cathay?" she looked inquiringly to see if he had heard of that name for China. He shook his head. "From far to the East, then. Farther than Jerusalem."

Nick scooped a portion from each box onto his plate with the fork. "And what do you call this?" he asked, indicating the fork.

Natalie looked up from her own plate, her eyebrow raised. "A fork, of course."

"A fork." He weighed it in his hand consideringly. "It's a good idea---like a knife and spoon put together." He tentatively took a bite of moo shu pork. "Ummmm. I think I like Chinese food." He smiled. "And forks, and showers. Life is very easy in these times."

She shook her head. "Not all the time. Tonight will be difficult. So eat your dinner---but not too much, please. Remember, you haven't eaten this kind of food before. And you're not used to eating solid food. I don't want you to get sick again."

"Very well, Mademoiselle Doctor."

They finished their meal in silence, the conversation suddenly run dry. Natalie was becoming more nervous by the minute as nine o'clock approached. She threw the now-empty take-out cartons in the garbage and put their plates in the sink. "Let's think about what we will do." She didn't have to explain what she meant.

"You said the garlic and the holy relic will protect us."

"No, I said they would help. But Lacroix is strong---I don't know how much effect they will have." She fished a couple of specimen containers out of her medical bag. The small glass vials with plastic caps were perfect for keeping a small amount of garlic juice handily concealed in a pocket. She divided the garlic juice between the two vials and handed Nick one. "Keep this in your pocket. If things get dangerous, take the top off and throw it in his face."

Nick accepted the vial and said, "In my what?"

"Your pocket---oh, good grief, didn't you have pockets?" She reached forward and tugged at the edge of the front pocket of his jeans. "This is a pocket. You put stuff in it."

"Oh." He stowed the vial in the pocket and patted it to make sure it was safe. "And the cross?"

Natalie looked around. Where could she put it? Somewhere central, where either of them could reach it. "How about in this drawer?" She indicated the top drawer of the small table next to the couch.

Nick nodded his assent. "Very well. And I will keep the knife at hand. You say it cannot kill him, but it may distract him enough to give you a chance to escape."

Natalie blew out a breath. "I guess there's nothing else we can do, except wait." She knew these few preparations were probably useless, but going through the motions made her feel better, somehow. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes to nine. It was almost full dark. "He'll be here soon, and I bet he'll come through the skylight." She pointed to the shattered skylight, still swinging loose on its hinges.

Nick seated himself in one of the armchairs, facing the skylight. He shoved the knife down between the cushion and the arm. "So let us wait, and pray God will protect us."

Natalie turned on some lamps, then sat in the other chair to wait. The tension was almost unbearable. She felt like she was awaiting the onslaught of a thunderstorm, watching the black storm clouds approaching. All you could do was watch and wait for the unavoidable with all its potential destruction. Unbidden her hand reached out across the small table between them and took Nick's hand. He squeezed hers lightly and smiled briefly at her, then resumed watching the skylight.

Life or death would soon arrive.

~~~~~

Lacroix arrived with a barely-perceived blur of motion and a whoosh of displaced air---and he wasn't alone. Standing next to Lacroix's imposing form was a small, slender man who appraised Nick and Natalie with a cool, disinterested stare.

Lacroix's companion was not much over five foot four, and couldn't have weighed more than 120 pounds. He appeared to be in his middle twenties, with medium length, straight dark brown hair, brown, almost black eyes, and a long, straight nose. He looked vaguely Middle Eastern---his darker complexion was evident even with his vampire pallor. He wore a conservative, expensive suit and shirt, without a tie. On the surface he appeared to be a young businessman, but he carried with him the aura of unspeakable age and tightly-leashed power only a truly ancient vampire could possess. Instinctively Natalie knew this was a being even older than Lacroix.

They had both jumped when the two vampires seemed to appear out of nowhere. Natalie felt Nick's hand close convulsively on hers, then fall away in readiness for whatever was to come.

"Bon soir, Nicolas." Lacroix's voice sounded amused and superior. He rattled off something in Brabantish.

Natalie breathed a mental sigh of relief, glad that Lacroix wasn't enraged as he had been on his last visit---although Lacroix in a coldly sadistic mood wasn't much better in terms of their survival. She shot a glance at the stranger. He merely stared back with eyes as old and cold as a grave. She looked away.

Nick answered curtly. "Speak French. I wish Natalie to understand what you say."

"Oh, you've made a friend, have you? Very well." He sketched a bow in Natalie's direction. "Charmed as always, Doctor Lambert."

She nodded. "Lacroix."

"Will you do us the courtesy of introducing your companion?" Nick asked, looking at the silent man.

The stranger spoke, his voice a light tenor. "There is no need for names. I am here to repay this one," he jerked his head at Lacroix, "for a favor long past due. Get on with it, Lucius. Your endless games are annoying."

Lacroix nodded, accepting the reprimand---but not meekly, Natalie noted, seeing his lips compress in displeasure. Not many beings could tell Lacroix what to do and be obeyed, but this nameless ancient one was obviously one of them.

"One thing first." He turned to Nick, his usual sardonic demeanor dropping away. Natalie saw a facet of Lacroix he kept hidden carefully away from everyone, perhaps even himself. She saw the face of a man coming to terms with the inevitability of loss. "Nicolas, you desire a favor from me. Even though you have rejected everything I have given you, everything I have done for you---rejected me---you now come asking yet again." Lacroix's face contorted, a pale blur in the dim light. He drew breath and continued.

"Tell me why I should grant this favor. Tell me why I should release you from the prison of forgetfulness and mortality you have made for yourself, knowing that if I do, you will only remember your resentments and hatreds. Tell me why I should not just kill you and Doctor Lambert, since your poisonous blood makes it impossible for me to bring you back to immortality. Tell me why."

The question hung quivering in the air. No one moved for a moment. The defiance had drained from Nick's face as he listened to Lacroix's litany of grief. Natalie wondered if Lacroix had struck some small chord of memory, an echo of familiarity, in Nick's consciousness.

Nick looked down for a moment, turning the gold ring on his finger as he thought. He seemed to come to a decision and, to Natalie's surprise, gracefully dropped to one knee, grasped Lacroix's hand and pressed it to his bowed head. He drew a deep breath. "I beg this boon, Lord. I can only say that without my memory, I can give you no reasons to ease your hurt, save that I am incomplete, and it is within your power to make me whole.

"Mademoiselle Natalie tells me you consider me your son. Now that the enchantment has been removed from me I can no longer be a son to you, if ever I were. And if I regain my memory of eight hundred years, I cannot know what kind of a man I will be. I know I am not the same man I was ten years ago---ten of my years---before I went to war and learned the cruel lessons of the world. The lessons of eight hundred years can only change me more.

"But I swear, Lord, that if you grant this favor, and do not require ungodly acts of me, I will not reject you." Nick fell silent, his head still bowed in supplication. The lamplight gleamed on the heavy gold signet ring on his finger, the sigil of his long-dead house.

Lacroix whispered, "How can I believe this?"

Nick raised his eyes and looked steadily into the severe face. "Faith. Although my memory is but a shabby cloak, I must believe my honor is still intact---it is dearer to me than life itself. Have faith in my honor that I will keep my promise."

Natalie stood wondering at the tableau before her, a scene from a forgotten age. It was hard for her to reconcile the often tongue-tied Nick of her time to the moving eloquence she had just heard. She held her breath, waiting for Lacroix's reply.

"Yes. Yes, damn you, the favor is yours." His voice was shot through with pain. "Let us complete this charade." The outstretched hand ran through Nick's hair, almost a caress, then was withdrawn. He turned towards the stranger and said, "Now. The debt is due."

The slight man stepped forward as Nick stood up. "Look at me," he commanded.

Nick straightened, making the sign of the cross as he braced himself. He looked at Natalie, his gaze seeking her support, then turned to the stranger. He looked into the cold dark eyes.

The air charged with energy, so thick Natalie thought she could touch it. Nick seemed frozen in place, immovable, his eyes locked on the stranger's, his hands trembling at his sides. The stranger reached out and touched Nick's brow. "Remember," he said softly. Then he turned away and said to Lacroix, "It is done. The debt is paid. I will hear no more from you." Then with a small clap of displaced air, he was gone.

Nick was trembling, the shaking getting more and more violent, his eyes staring wildly. Suddenly he clutched his head and screamed, a high thin wail of terror and despair. He dropped to the floor and curled into a ball, the scream turning to sobs. Blood spurted from his nose.

Natalie sprang forward and knelt beside him, vainly trying to calm him, to stanch the blood and get through to him somehow. "Lacroix!" she screamed, "What's wrong?" She cradled Nick's head in her lap.

"He has remembered eight hundred years in the span of ten seconds," he replied quietly. "A heavy burden to take up at once, indeed."

Nick fell silent, his tremors stilled. He had passed out.

Lacroix stooped and picked up the limp form. "I will take him upstairs," he informed Natalie, and moved towards the stairs, cradling his son in his arms.

Natalie sat back on her heels, her head swimming. Remotely, she saw Nick's blood had stained her pants leg. Levering herself to her feet, she followed in Lacroix's wake.

She trudged heavily up the stairs and went to Nick's bedroom. Lacroix had laid him on the bed and covered him with the same blanket she had used, a scant forty-eight hours earlier, to keep him warm as he became mortal. Had it only been that long? It felt like a lifetime.

Lacroix was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at Nick. The expression on his face was unreadable.

Natalie sank into the chair, still at the side of the bed. "Why didn't you do it?" she asked. "Why did that, that person have to crawl into his mind?"

Lacroix didn't answer. He put his hand over Nick's and ran his finger lightly over the gold ring. Finally, he said, "I knew from his blood I would be unable to reach the place where his mind had retreated. As old as I am, I am not strong enough to combat both the effect of the drugs you gave him and his desire to put the past behind. But I knew the---ancient one---could." The admission of powerlessness was obviously hard to make.

"He spoke of a debt..."

"Ancient history." He smiled thinly. "It doesn't matter---the debt is repaid, the scales once again balanced."

She looked at Nick, twitching in his uneasy oblivion. "Will he be all right?"

"He will die. Not now, but eventually. But that is what you both want, so I suppose you will be satisfied." His tone was bitter.

"I'm not going to apologize to you," she said. "But I wish..." her voice trailed off.

"What? That my feelings weren't hurt? That you didn't take my son from me? Don't be hypocritical, Doctor, it ill becomes you. Atropos has cut this thread. It is done." He stood and was gone.

Natalie was left looking at the spot where he had been sitting. Had Lacroix truly given up trying to possess Nick, body and soul, after so many hundreds of years? She could scarcely believe he had become reconciled to his loss, but it seemed so. Perhaps Nick's promise not to reject him made it possible. In the end, she supposed, he couldn't bring himself to destroy his beloved son. If he couldn't have him in immortality, he would have a small piece of him for the rest of his days.

Nick moaned in his sleep. The blood from his nosebleed had dried on his face and stained the bedspread. Natalie got up, retrieved a dampened washcloth from the bathroom, and gently cleaned his face, then rearranged the blanket more securely around his restless limbs. What would his state of mind be when he awoke? Would he again take up the heavy burden of guilt he had carried for hundreds of years? Or would his renewed mortality help him find forgiveness and reconciliation?

God, she was tired.

Throwing away any thoughts of propriety, Natalie crawled onto the bed next to him, pulling the blanket up over herself. She snuggled into his turned back and draped an arm over his shoulders. Perhaps the feeling of closeness would ease his restlessness and ease his dreams.

Her eyes drooped and she fell asleep.

~~~~~

Natalie awoke as her shoulder was gently shaken. She heard a voice calling her name. She cracked a bleary eye and squinted.

Nick smiled down at her. "Natalie, wake up."

Then, "I remember."

Finis

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