"I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!  COULD SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME
WHAT THE HELL MY BEST DETECTIVE IS DOING IN LOCKUP FOR
ASSAULT AND RESISTING ARREST, OF ALL THINGS?  SOMEONE GET ME
A )#$^& ADVIL!  SONOFABITCH THIS WATER COOLER STILL DOESN'T
WORK, OH WILL SOMEONE PLEASE FIND ME A PAIN RELIEVER..."

Nick cringed as he heard Captain Reese's voice ripping
through the air like a saw blade, surprised that it had even
carried this far, all the way down into lockup from
somewhere out in the bullpen.  He could just picture the
blood vessel popping out of his Captain's forehead, dancing
on his temples like some exotically writhing snake.

Groaning, he placed his head in his hands.  Somehow, LaCroix
had 'convinced' the police officers who had apprehended him
to truck him to his own precinct rather than the local one
in Missagua.  And to be honest, he couldn't figure out if
that was for punishment or relief.  Punishment probably...
Granted, the normal assumption would be that he would get
more lenient treatment here since they knew him, but upon
listening to Reese yell, he was beginning to sorely doubt
that...

Nick closed his eyes, unable to stop the dread that was
overcoming him.

He couldn't believe he'd done what he'd done.  Going with
the intent of bringing LaCroix back with him for a serious
talk and then ending up jumping him and beating him to a
bloody pulp had not been on his list of things to do...  It
was odd, though.  He felt better than he had in days.  Like
all the anger and hurt he'd been housing for the last eight
centuries had been lifted from his shoulders.

"A-HEM!"

Nick looked upwards, and there standing outside his cell
with the key dangling from his chubby fingers, was Reese,
glaring silently.  If there was ever a time when Nick knew
he was in for it, now was it...  He didn't think he'd ever
live this one down.  Reese was going to kill him...

Granted, he'd been in trouble with the law before, a
fugitive even, but that hadn't been the same...  Well okay,
it was kind of the same, but this felt a whole lot
different...  At least Cohen hadn't yelled at him, and most
of the precinct figured he was innocent from the start.  Now
he was definitely, totally, one-hundred percent guilty.  And
Reese knew it...

"Uh, hi Cap," he said hopefully, a slight, and very fake
grin plastered across his face.  Oh please, oh please don't
give me a reprimand...  Don't suspend me...

"Do you perhaps feel like telling me what the Hell
happened, that made you feel like suddenly attacking an
innocent man, and then IGNORING the police officer who tried
to pry you off him to the point where you had to be beaten
to the floor?" Reese asked with a snort.

Nick looked down at the floor.  No.  Not really.  Besides,
it's not like he could say, "Yeah sorry, familial
conflict, it's been going on for centuries, no biggie..."

Reese grunted, his temper barely in check.  "I didn't think
so.  Do you even feel like giving me one good reason why I
shouldn't suspend you for the rest of your life?"

"Captain, I..." Nick started, but Reese interrupted him
before he could even begin rattling off meaningless excuses
and pleas.

"Nick, you're damn lucky this man has not pressed charges.
You're free to go, but if you ever do something like this
again I'm going to nail your ass in traffic for the rest of
your natural life," Reese said coldly as he unlocked to door
to his cell.

"Thanks," Nick said sheepishly as he pushed past him,
infinitely relieved that he didn't face any formal
reprimands or charges.

"And Nick?"

Nick turned back towards his very displeased Captain.  "If
you ever cuss out a fellow police officer again I'm going to
have you hung out to dry, I don't care if you're the best
damned detective I've ever seen, I will demote you to
building maintenance!  As it is now, I recommend that you
take tomorrow off," Reese exclaimed sternly.

Nick nodded and departed quickly, wisely fleeing his wrath.
He'd gotten off pretty damn lucky, and he knew it.  Even the
notorious 'Knightmare' was not immune to suspensions...

The minute he was in the bullpen, it was dead quiet.  Every
one was staring at him.  It felt rather disconcerting, and
he was sure that he would've blushed if he were capable.

"Nick, my God, I heard what happened and I came straight
here..." Natalie came running towards him, grabbing him into
a tight embrace which he couldn't have refused even if he'd
tried.  He couldn't remember the last time she'd shown such
incredible desperation and worry for him, and certainly
never enough to do this in the very center of the whole
precinct with such a large audience...

"Are you all right, he didn't hurt you did he?" she mumbled
softly into his neck, ignoring the whispering coworkers, the
money changing hands, everything except for him.  She was
gripping him tightly, and although she was trying to be
subtle about it, he could tell she was checking him for
injuries.  Her fingers were running skillfully underneath
his coat, pressing here and there feeling for broken bones
and whatnot, but she hid it well under the guise of a
slightly gropey embrace.

It was immediately obvious she'd gotten the wrong idea about
this whole thing, but he couldn't blame her for jumping to
conclusions.  She'd probably only heard that Nick had gotten
into a brawl with 'that radio guy'.  Not that Nick himself
had actually started it, an act about which Nick was still
shaking his head upon, still wondering what on Earth had
ever possessed him to take on LaCroix in a fight
_willingly_.  If it had been anywhere else, LaCroix probably
would've clocked him good, but under mortal surveillance
he'd been limited to mortal speed.

"Don't worry, Nat.  I'm fine.  In fact, I'm more than
fine, I'm the one who started..." his words trailed off when
he saw who was at his desk, looking terribly out of place
and yet he was there all the same.  LaCroix was there,
standing humbly by Nick's desk, fiddling haphazardly with a
stapler while he was waiting.

He was watching them, and despite his attempts to hide it,
Nick detected just a small flicker of... something flash
across his master's face.  Nick didn't want to risk that
something being anger...  He'd already paid dearly enough
for his master's temper over the whole Fleur issue, he
didn't want to pay again, and he _especially_ didn't want
Nat to pay.

"Nat..." he whispered hoarsely and pushed her away from
him, eliciting a new flurry of hushed whispers rushing
through the crowd like quiet thunder and a small whimper
from her.  It angered him that he couldn't explain to her
what was going on, but after last Valentine's Day and what
happened because of it just recently...  Oh, it made him
shudder just thinking about it.

"Nick?" she looked up at him, her large blue eyes filled
with hurt, not knowing why he'd released her.  "Why?..."
she asked, until she looked at where Nick was staring.  He
was staring at _HIM_.

Grabbing the lapels of Nick's duster, she pulled him back
towards her.  "No, Nick.  Don't you go to him, you stay away
from him..." she started commanding him, whispering harshly
in his ear, the anger very apparent in her voice, but for
some reason he simply couldn't tear his eyes away from his
master.

LaCroix had waited for him.  He'd really waited...

His master looked up at him.  "Nicholas," he said softly,
looking down towards the floor as he said it.  His tone was
neutral, but his expression was far from.

Natalie yanked on him again, trying to drag him forcefully
out of the precinct, but he continued to stare, still unable
to get over the amazement that LaCroix was still there.
"Don't do it, don't you do it, Nick..." she was whispering
frantically, genuine fear for him in her eyes.  She knew
what he was planning on doing, she just didn't know why yet.

"Shh, Nat," he whispered, turning and giving her a quick
platonic kiss on the cheek, not daring anything else in
front of LaCroix.  "It's all right, it's all right, I'll
explain later," he assured her calmly.  When she saw that he
was serious, she relaxed somewhat, and although she didn't
look very happy about the situation, she released his coat.

He smiled slightly and turned away from her shocked
expression, towards his desk.  "LaCroix," he answered just
as softly, trying to gauge his master's state of mind.  Was
he angry?  Upset?  He didn't look it, but Nick doubted he'd
get off with LaCroix as lightly as he'd gotten off with
Reese.

"We need to talk."

"Yes, we do."

And surprisingly, LaCroix grabbed him in a tight embrace
and silently, yet regally, led him out the door, past
everyone's curious and penetrating stares, past Natalie, and
into the night.

**This is the end of part 9/10.  All comments may be sent to
Diane Harris at [email protected]**

*****

    ---------------------------------------------------------------------
RAGE, RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT (10/10)

"It's better now...  I'm not as hungry as I was before,"
Nick exclaimed softly as he stared down at his goblet of
blood wine.  He looked back up at LaCroix, but his master
only nodded slightly in response, otherwise providing no
reaction.

The silence was deafening as LaCroix and Nick stared each
other down, Nick sitting opposite LaCroix across the coffee
table in the center of his very dreary loft.  It was funny,
but now that they were there, ready to finally set some
stuff out on the table for them to work with, neither knew
what to say.

LaCroix chuckled nervously.  "You know, Nicholas, generally
the concept of talking implies that the parties involved
verbalize their feelings..."

Nick tentatively smiled back, but said nothing.  There was
nothing he could think of to say.  Nothing at all.  The
seconds ticked by into an hour and they just sat there.
Staring.  In fact, Nick couldn't remember the last time he'd
been in his sire's presence without some violent act
occurring between them.  It was kind of... refreshing.

And then all at once the dam opened for both of them.

"Nicholas... I..."

"LaCroix are you _REALLY_ sorry?"

They both began at the same time, both stopping together
when they realized the other was speaking.  "You first,"
Nick offered softly.  He'd already said a lot today, albeit
while he was pummeling LaCroix into the ground, but he'd
said it nonetheless.

"Nicholas, there is something that I need to know," LaCroix
began hesitantly after several false starts, his mouth
opening and closing but with no sound emanating from his
lips.  "I need...  I..." he tried and tried to get it out
but it just wasn't coming, and Nick sat astonished.  He'd
never, EVER seen LaCroix at such a loss for words.

"I need to know if you stay with me because you like being
hurt..." LaCroix finally managed to utter, obviously fearful
of what the response was going to be.

Nick sighed.  He'd asked himself that numerous times, during
many long debates with himself and his inner beast.  'Well,
do you?' his mind seemed to be asking him.  And to be
honest, "LaCroix, I honestly don't know.  I've tried to
answer that question myself.  I do seem to have a passion
for pain, don't I?" he asked softly, looking down at his
hands, the floor, anywhere but LaCroix.

LaCroix nodded and said nothing in response.

Nick took a deep breath.  "But, LaCroix, even if that is one
of the reasons I stick around it's a very small reason.
I've come to realize over the last day or two, that I love
you like my own father, even despite the fact that a lot of
times you make me so angry I want to throttle you into the
next century," he said with a bitter laugh.  It sounded like
something out of a bad talk show.  A demented relationship
at best.

But then he saw how hopefully LaCroix was looking at him.
At how shocked his sire was by his admission.  He took a
deep breath and continued before he lost his nerve.  "Look,
LaCroix, I'm not ready to forgive you for what happened, but
I am ready to start trying, if you're really sorry.  Are you
really sorry, LaCroix?  Or was it all another plot?"

There.  He'd asked.  Under civilized circumstances, when
neither one of them was at the other's throat.  It was his
best chance at getting an honest answer, even if it was an
answer he didn't want to hear.  He closed his eyes, mentally
steeling himself for what his master was about to say.
Strange, how one answer had the power to change his life
completely, either by making one of the world's longest,
most strange relationships just a tad more sane, or by
ripping it to pieces in the blink of an eye.

"Nicholas, I have never been more sorry in my life.  In
fact, I don't think I've ever been sorry at all until
now..." LaCroix answered quietly, a catch in his voice at
the utterance of his son's name.

Nick sighed in relief.  He had been right.  LaCroix was
sorry.  But...  Something still wasn't letting him accept
the peace offering for what it was.  It was just...  "Prove
it," he found himself stating bluntly, as if his mouth had a
mind of its own.

LaCroix closed his eyes briefly, and Nick was practically
thrown backwards in shock as the waves of mental energy hit
him like a physical slap.  LaCroix had opened the link
between them completely, something he'd never done before.
Emotions that were LaCroix's flooded Nick's mind, almost as
if they were his own, and Nick was sure vice versa was also
true.  He gasped.

*Now close it,* LaCroix stated simply.  Except he hadn't
said it, per se.  He'd thought it.

Nick was overwhelmed.  The intensity, it was... it was too
much.  His balance wavered, and his torso rocked about like
a punching bag as he managed to whisper, "I can't... you
never taught me how."

*I'm teaching you now.  Close it.*

Nick panted, not able to control the onslaught.  It wasn't
painful, really, just... imposing, suffocating.  Probably
like how someone who was claustrophobic felt in an elevator
full of people.  "I...  I don't know... how," he said
between forceful, heaving gasps, collapsing on the couch
underneath the nonexistent and yet insurmountable pressure.

*Think of it like a door.  Just reach for the handle, and
close it.  It's not as hard as you're making it, Nicholas,
although it will take practice...*

Nick tried to focus, he really did...  Bloody sweat was
pouring down his brow from the effort of thinking under the
onslaught.

*I'm not going to close it for you, Nicholas.  You need to
do it yourself...*

He fell onto the floor.  <Think of it like a door.>  Okay.
I've got the damn door, check.  It's right there...  Close!
CLOSE, YOU STUPID PIECE OF WOOD!

He cried out, this time in genuine pain, convulsing on the
floor, writhing as the link threatened to snake around and
strangle him.  Oh please, close...  Closeclosecloseclose...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

The voices were overwhelming him as LaCroix's memories
threatened to superimpose on top of his own.

*Nicholas, it doesn't have to be painful, you can control
the flow...  Like a faucet, just change the volume of
material you're receiving.  You will learn in time.  Now
close it!*

"I'm TRYING to bloody close it!" he screamed through gritted
teeth as he writhed on the floor like a landed fish.  It
felt like claws were ripping apart his flesh and tearing it
to shreds, only to let it heal again and start all over.

Door.  Nick, think of a door.  Please, close...  Damn, but
he was shoving really hard on that virtual door, grunting
with the physical and yet nonphysical effort it took and it
just wasn't budging.  Closecloseclosecloseclosecloseclose
closeclosecloseclosecloseclosecloseclosecloseclosecloseclose
closeclosecloseclosecloseclosecloseclosecloseclosecloseclose
closeclosecloseclosecloseclosecloseclosecloseclosecloseclose
CLOSE!

And all of the sudden the link was silent.  Nothing was
coming through, and he lay there panting on the floor,
feeling like he'd just done the Tour de France on a tricycle.
"Okay, I'm convinced," he whispered hoarsely from the floor,
trying to find the strength to get up but unable to even
lift a hand let alone his entire body.

"We will continue this lesson tomorrow after you've rested,"
LaCroix stated simply, getting up from his chair and peering
over Nicholas's prone form with some visible concern.

"Wonderful," Nicholas commented sarcastically as sweat from
his brow dripped into his eyes.  Every muscle in his body
was refusing to listen to his brain's stern commands.  He
couldn't move.  Hell, he could barely think.  "Just warn me
next time you're going to open the flood gates or I just
might drown next time..." he groaned as a splitting headache
started to develop, his words only partially kidding.

And suddenly, he was up in the air, being held in LaCroix's
strong arms.  "Indeed," his sire responded in a whisper,
caressing Nick's brow softly with a free hand as he carried
him upstairs to bed.

Nick accepted LaCroix's aid gratefully, and was very soon
sinking into the mattress like it was quicksand.  "Thanks,"
he whispered as LaCroix drew the black silk sheet over top
of him.

LaCroix smiled in response, but said nothing, silently
turning to leave Nick to sleep in peace.  But at the last
moment, his hands gripping the door frame firmly, he turned
back as an afterthought struck him.  "Nicholas?"

"Yeah?" Nick asked sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes.

"You are free from your debt.  Pursue Dr. Lambert as you
wish," he said softly, and then he was gone in the blink of
an eye and a small gust of air.

Nick smiled.

"I think I just may do that..." he whispered, to no one in
particular.

FINIS

**This is the end of part 10/10.  All comments may be sent to
Diane Harris at [email protected].**

Thanks for staying with the story until the end!  Please,
please, please tell me what you thought!  And I _may_ just
continue this if you guys like it enough :)
 

Back to Parts 7 and 8!