see part one for disclaimers etc.
Lyrics by Pat Benetar (1) "We Belong"
(2) "All Fired Up"

Out of the Ashes
by elfin

Part Two - The Falcon
Inspired by "The Cross" by James WalksWithWind, and written with permission.

"Don't want to leave you really
I've wasted too much time
To give you up that easy
to the doubts that complicate your mind..."(1)

        Nat lifted her eyes from the microscope, smiling.  Staring down at the instrument, she started to chuckle.  The laughter built up within her until finally it had to explode.  She had done it.  They had done it. After six years of hunting, she could finally cure him; after six years of hurt, they could finally be together.

        LaCroix flicked to music and bestowed upon his visitor a smile that could have cut glass.  "Dr Lambert, this is a welcome surprise." Natalie stepped into the booth and closed the door behind her, leaning back on the soundproofed glass.  "And to what do I owe the honour of your company?"
        "Nick saved your life when Divia tried to kill you."  The sharp edge of her words cut him surprisingly deep, sparking memories he had recently try to bury beneath others he never wanted to forget.  "I'm here to collect on that."
        LaCroix's eyes widened.  "I do not believe it is your debt to collect on, Doctor."
        "It's a favour.  For Nick."  At LaCroix's somewhat confused glance, she added, "He doesn't know I'm here."
        "Ah.  I thought not."  The recent shift in his relationship with his son, although not all he would eventually want, had meant that he and Nicholas had begun to actually talk, more than they ever really had.  They had spent days and nights simply talking, learning about one another again, laughing together.  He had discovered that the most wonderful thing in the world was to hold his son as he laughed.  For a time, Nick had been wondering what to tell Natalie Lambert.  It now seemed that the good doctor had taken the initiative.
        "I've found a cure."

        The ancient vampire let none of the sudden myriad of emotions show through his stoic exterior.  He pulled in a deep breath to give his mind a moment to settle.  A cure.  Of course, this was just another dead end....  What if it wasn't?  What if she really had done it, found a way to kill the vampire element in his son.  *His* son.  His anger flared. "Why are you telling *me* this, doctor?"
        "I need your help.  We need your help."
        "And what makes you think for a moment that I would assist you in taking my son from me?"
        "You owe Nick.  You wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for him."
        LaCroix tore his eyes from the demon before him.  Yes, he owed Nicholas.  But not this, anything but this.  "Has Nicholas agreed to this?"  He kept the shock firmly from his voice.
        "He doesn't know yet."

        A flame of hope leapt within the ancient vampire.  Nicholas did not know.  Maybe he would refuse the cure, maybe....  But he had been searching, waiting, for so long.  Would a kiss and a few shared hours really keep him from his dream of centuries?  LaCroix looked suddenly at the woman standing against the door.  She was the only one who knew.  All he had to do was kill her.

        Fighting his own inner battle, LaCroix drew back suddenly, standing and turning from her.  Nat seemed to sense the danger but she did not move.  They had reached the cross-roads for all of them.  It was all or nothing.  "Well?"
        LaCroix faced the wall, blinking sudden, unexpected tears from his eyes.  He had only just gotten his beloved, dearest child back, why, why was this happening now?
        Yet he could not deny Nicholas this any longer.  What they had shared in recent days had only confirmed what LaCroix had known for centuries.  He loved Nicholas De Brabant with his stone cold heart and his already damned soul.  He loved him too much to deny him his fondest wish.
Finally he nodded, unable to speak.
        Nat stared for a moment, quite unable to believe what she had seen.  And then she almost cheered.  Instead she whispered a thank you and left him to mourn.

*

        Nick stared at the floor as Nat stared at him.  This was not the reaction she had been expecting.  "Nick?"  She could not keep the joy and excitement from her voice.
        He pulled his eyes up, masking his feelings, his churning emotions, as well as he ever had.  "Sorry, Nat.  It's just... unexpected."  *I never believed it was possible, so I did not tell you to stop looking.*
        "Aren't you happy?!"  She took his hands in hers, beaming at him.  "We can do it Nick, we can be together as mortals.  We can have kids, grow old and die.  Together.  I can make you mortal."
        He could say nothing, but suddenly he gathered her in his arms and held her to him, gazing unseeing over her shoulder as she grinned over his.
        "LaCroix has agreed to help."  She told him, proud of her own small victory over his vampire master.  She felt him stiffen.  Suddenly she was being pushed away.
        "What?"
        "I went to see LaCroix.  I told him that he owed you, for saving his life.  He agreed to help, to drain you."
        Nick could feel himself trembling.  Desperately he tried to reach out to his father, but the barriers were up.  He doubted he would even be able to trace his sire's whereabouts.  "When?"  He tried to make his tone one of excitement instead of horror.  Nat's excitement was wonderful to see, he had to admit.  She was blossoming now, now she was so close to getting what she thought they both wanted.  She had done so much for him.  And now she could cure him.
        "It's all set for this evening.  Your place.  LaCroix will meet us there."
        Nick nodded.  He moved away from her, stopping only briefly as she kissed him.  "I need...."  She pressed a finger to his lips, reminding him ridiculously of Captain Lambert as she had been in his guilt-induced hallucinations nearly two years previously.  She was in control now.
        "I know.  Just be back at your place by sunset this evening.  I know you won't be late."
        He forced himself to smile, and to quip, "You know I'll be early."

        Initially he had driven to the Raven, yet he had known before walking into the club that his master was not there.  LaCroix would not be found until he entered Nick's loft this evening, he knew that instinctively. He ached for what his father must be going through.  //Mon pere, why didn't you come to me?//
        He could not face going home.  The loft was where the horror of tonight was going to take place; the crushing of someone's dreams, the ending of one life and the starting of another.  Someone would get hurt tonight, and as usual - he thought bitterly - he would be the cause of that pain.

        Nick found himself killing the Caddie's engine outside the dilapidated church which served as Javier Vachon's residence.  The Spaniard looked to be getting ready to go out as Nick walked quietly down the steps.  Vachon looked up.  "Nick... I didn't expect to see you... I thought...."
        Nick nodded.  "We are.  I just... I needed to talk to someone."
        Vachon recognised the tone of voice.  "What's up?"
        Nick shook his head, indicating Vachon's stance, his battered leather jacket half-on over his shoulders.  "I don't want to disturb you."
        Vachon quickly shrugged off his jacket and flung it across the room, smiling as he did.  Then he stopped.  "Nick... over the last few weeks what's passed between you and I has meant at least a little to me."
        Nick rubbed a palm down one side of his face, a gesture of exhaustion and guilt.  "I'm sorry, Javier...."
        But Vachon was smiling, holding up his hands.  "No, Nick...."  The Spaniard laughed.  "Why do you always take the blame onto yourself?"
        "I'm usually responsible."
        "When you first came to me, it was because of your mixed up feelings concerning LaCroix.  I'm happy - relieved - that you two have sorted our differences.  What I meant was, I will always have time for you."
        Nick padded down the remaining stone steps, almost managing a smile, and dropped his coat to the floor, flopping back into the old sofa as he had many times recently.  He accepted the glass from Vachon as he would from an old and trusted friend, watching as the younger vampire plonked
down next to him, a little closer than a mere friend.
        "Talk to me, Nick."
        Staring off into the candle-lit dark of the church basement, Nick murmured simply, "Nat's found a cure."
        Vachon almost choked on his bloodwine.  "You're kidding?"
        Nick simply shook his head and took a sip, appreciating the small amount of alcohol; sometimes it could make a difference to a vampire.  He explained the situation in monotone, not daring to think about his own words.  When he finished, he looked sideways at his friend.  "I don't know what to do."
        "Nick...."  Vachon gazed back, seeing the pain clear in the deep blue eyes.  "It's a decision you only make for yourself.  Whatever you do, do it for you, not for Natalie and not for LaCroix.  Do it for De Brabant."
        "A month ago, less even, there wouldn't have been any hesitation."
        "So what's changed that's had such an effect?"
        "Everything.  You know, just over a year ago, there was a comet alert.  LaCroix came over to the loft.  He was scared, not of dying as everyone else around me was, but of living, alone.  Without his family, his children.  Without me.  I only glimpsed then something that I saw with full force when Divia showed up."
        "So?  Don't turn down your one hope of mortality because LaCroix will miss you.  You'll only end up hating him for it, more than before."
        Nick nodded.  "I know.  It's just... mortality isn't humanity.  Giving myself over to death is not going to save my soul from damnation, is it?"
        Vachon listened to the words of spiritual despair, spoken in a voice that told of a breaking heart.  Softly, Vachon prompted him.  "Nick, tell me what's really going through your mind?  This isn't the battle raging within you.  Tell me the truth."
        Nick sighed deeply.  "It's selfish."
        "It's your life.  This has to be a selfish decision."
        "I don't want to lose what I've found.  In centuries I haven't had as much as I have now.  You, LaCroix, Tracy... Javier, I haven't even had a chance to speak to her.  In years I haven't felt this wanted, this..."
        "...loved."
        Nick nodded hesitantly.  "I wanted to just lose myself in that for a time.  I crave it all; love, sex, blood-sharing.  I want LaCroix so badly I ache for him.  I want you each and every time I lay eyes on you."  Vachon's surprised grin brought a smile to Nick's face.  "I don't want to lose this... I've waited too long...."
        Vachon desperately just wanted to grab Nick and hold him, kiss him, bite him, fuck him, lose himself in the pale flesh of the vampire he was fast falling for.  But if his angsting friend took the wrong path now, they would all lose him forever.  "As I understand it, you've searched for a cure to vampirism for hundreds of years.  Your doctor friend has found it.  Can you honestly throw that away and not regret it?"
        Nick sipped his drink.  That was the question he could not answer.  He kept wishing that this was not happening, that they had not come to this cross-roads now.  A few years in the future perhaps, when he had had the chance to enjoy everything he had suddenly discovered.  But not now.  He was not ready.  His dreams had finally come true and he was not ready. "I don't know if they're even my dreams anymore," Nick whispered.  And then the tears began.

        Vachon sat quietly, and after a few minutes he started to stroke  Nick's arm gently, still not speaking.  He could understand his friend's despair somehow.  When he had first met Nick he had been surprised by the depth of his feeling for mortals, for his partner especially.  Over the last weeks he had seen layer upon layer of feeling and knowledge stripped away, revealing a soul that was as far from damned as any saint.  But Nick would not be told.  Somehow he had become convinced that his soul was decayed whatever he did, almost as if he had glimpsed it for himself.

        After a long time, Nick quieted, appreciating his friend's touch.  "The worst thing," he managed to stammer as soon as he could talk again, "is that... Nat asked LaCroix to help... and now he's gone.  I can't find him, I can't... sense him."
        Vachon stood, giving Nick the privacy he needed to pull himself back together, pouring more of the bloodwine.  The thought passed through Nick's mind that he ought to call in to work sometime.  The mortal life he had created for himself seemed like a million miles away from what surrounded him now.  The frightening, thrilling part was that he felt comfortable here, with the dark light around him.
        "You know, Nick, LaCroix has probably just shielded himself." Vachon sat back down.  "Maybe he just wanted to be alone."
        But Nick was shaking his head.  "He can't shield himself from me.  Not completely.  We have... a link.  When its fully open we can hear each other's thoughts, lose ourselves in the mind of the other."  Vachon's eyebrows rose slightly, and somehow that interest made Nick remember more.  "When we make love, drink from one another, we become one.  There is no start and no end."  He looked at Vachon, slightly embarrassed.
        "Wow."
        "It's one thing running from that, fighting it all the time, because I know it'll always be there, LaCroix will always be there.  I know that as if it's written on my soul.  We can fight, hate, kill for whatever reason and still I can turn to him and he will accept me.  If I become mortal, I can never have that again."
        "Have you considered that you may not want it?  You'll have Nat, you can have a family."
        "Grow old and die, I know, I've heard it."
        "It's what you wanted, Nick."
        Nick turned to Vachon and gazed at him.  "So much has happened recently.  If Nat hadn't found this cure, I don't think I would have returned to work, not for a while.  Janette's back.  My family is back together, closer than we've been in centuries.  They were good times, Javier."  He looked away, taking a long swallow of the blood.  Outside he could feel the sunrise a bare half hour away.  "I have to go."
        Vachon reached for him.  "Stay, Nick.  Please."
        "I can't, not here.  I have to go to the club, in case LaCroix returns.  I have to speak to him."
        "Then let me go with you.  If there's no one there, I don't think you should face today alone.  If he is there, I'll make myself scarce."  Nick hesitated.  He honestly did not want to be on his own.  He needed to talk, to listen to a devil's advocate - or maybe in this case it would be a god's advocate.  "Okay."

*

        The Raven was emptier than Nick had ever known it to be.  Not only were there no people - mortals or vampires - in the building, but it felt empty, as no one had been here in years.  LaCroix's presence was gone.  Nick touched the railing, the metal and wood as he walked across the top
balcony.  Vachon turned from securing the door.  "What?"
        "He's leaving....  LaCroix... his presence is gone."
        Vachon approached carefully.  "Nick, come on."
        "I know, Javier.  I can feel it."
        Vachon was not used to thinking quickly on his feet, so Nick was down the steps to the main floor before he formed the sentence in his mind.  "You said he agreed to help, didn't you?  That the ... procedure needed him?"  Nick nodded aimlessly, lost in his own worsening nightmare.  "He loves you Nick.  He'll be there this evening."
        Nick stopped for a moment, considering Vachon's words.  And he knew them to be true.  So all he had to do was wait.  And somehow get through the day.  There was a decision to be made.

*

        LaCroix stood absolutely still in the darkness of the front room.  He had kept this townhouse a secret from all who knew him, lest he should ever need to be alone.  After tonight he would always be alone.  Not even the thought of spending time with his beloved Janette could hold him in Toronto.  After tonight he was leaving, running from where his memories of Nicholas were freshest.  He would find somewhere they had never been together and stay there, stay until the gaping hole in his heart had become numb.  And if it did not....  What was the point of eternal life if the one you loved had been taken from you forever?

        Aristotle would handle the sales of his various properties in the city.  There was nothing left to do.  Or rather, there was everything left to do.  In seven hours' time he had to drain his son - the most important, precious thing in his life - and hand him over to a mortal woman who would eventually, in her own innocent way, accompany him to his death.  She did not know what it was to love Nicholas, she could never witness the passionate creature released when dark and light met.
It was something he himself had only just seen, had basked in, and now had to somehow release to a place it would instantly die.  A creature such as his Nicholas could be would never be accepted in the mortal world.  It was just another part of his child that he would mourn for.

*

        Vachon opened his eyes, taking a moment to remember that he was lying in one of the spare rooms in the private apartments behind the Raven.  Nick had been beside him when he had fallen asleep, but he was no longer in the room.  Stretching, Vachon rose from the bed and went in search of his friend.

        "Nick?  You okay?"  Vachon crouched down next to where the blond vampire was sitting on the kitchen floor, knees drawn up under his chin, streaks of blood drying on his face.  When there was no answer, Vachon found Nick's hand in the material of his long sleeves, and entwined their fingers.  "Talk to me.  Just say what's going through your head."
        As he watched, deep blue eyes moved to meet his own dark gaze.  "I wish this wasn't happening."
        "I know.  But it is.  And you need to decide."
        Nick shook his head slowly.  "How I choose between them?  Between a woman who loves me, who has dedicated five years of her life to me.  And a man whose heart I captured 800 years ago, a man who is the most familiar thing in the world to me?"
        Vachon was horrified.  "You don't Nick!  This isn't about them.  This is about you, what you want.  You're choosing mortality or immortal life.  It's the same choice you made 800 years ago, only this time you're better informed."  Vachon smiled as the corners of Nick's mouth rose for a moment.  "Don't make this decision based on who will be left behind.  Relationships are transitory.  You have to live with this decision for the rest of your life - however long it might be - day and night, each and every minute.  If you don't make it for yourself, that knowledge will eventually tear you apart."
        Nick's eyes sparkled a little.  "When did you become so observant?"
        "People get the wrong idea about me from early on."

        Nick chuckled.  "I want to be me.  I don't want anyone ruling my life.  For centuries, LaCroix has tried to dictate my every move, and now... now I feel Nat is doing the same."
        "And you're doing it again."  Vachon gave him a mock-stern look.  "Stop defining your existence with two people.  You're you, Nick Knight, Nicholas De Brabant, whatever name you use you're the same person. Vampire or mortal, you will be the same inside, in your soul.  I know you.  And I know there's infinitely more to you than Lucien LaCroix or Natalie Lambert.  Don't forget I've tasted you on several occasions, and you have your own taste, your own heady mix.  You're unique, Nick, and I do not want to see that destroyed because you took the wrong path."
        Nick squeezed Vachon's fingers between his own as the Spaniard watched him.  The multitude of expressions that could shape the older vampire's face never failed to surprise Vachon.  At times Nick could terrify with a show of power that would bring mortals and vampires to their knees.  His quiet grace and beauty disguised the subdued killer that was always within him, yet the passion, the desire he let loose on a lover was more than Vachon had ever previously known.  He imagined he had seen it all, until now, until he looked deep into his friend's eyes and saw the pain.  He looked at Nick's face and found there the frightened, confused young boy whom LaCroix had taken from the natural world eight hundred years ago.

        "I can't help you, Nick.  No one can make this decision for you."
        "I know.  I just don't know if I can make it either."

        They sat on the floor together, the contact between them a link from which Nick could draw strength or comfort or whatever he needed.  Vachon was more than willing simply to sit there.  It was all he could do.

*

        Nat paced Nick's loft, waiting.  She had arrived early expecting  Nick to be here, to be bouncing with excitement, to be waiting for her - his saviour.  Yet the loft was empty on her arrival, and it did not look like he had been back all today.  That worried her.  If LaCroix had got to him somehow....  She looked up as the opening of the main skylight startled her.  LaCroix landed silently and gracefully on the balcony.  He did not look at her, simply leaned back against the wall and remained silent.  He was here, alone.  So where in the hell was Nick?

*

        "If you ask you a question, will you promise to tell me the truth?"  Vachon nodded, but Nick needed more.  "Promise."
        "I promise, Nick."
        The blond vampire nodded.  "If I became mortal, would you miss me?"
        Vachon stared at Nick.  The answer, he suddenly knew, had to come from somewhere.  The decision, the choice, was impossible for him to make based simply on what he felt and who he was.  Eight hundred years had made that too complicated for such a simple 'yes/no' decision to be based on.  So he had chosen something else on which to hang his future.  An innocent question that would mean life or death.  And Vachon did not know the correct answer.  He knew only the truth.  "Yes."

*

"Now I believe there comes a time
 when everything just falls in line
 we live and learn from our mistakes
 the deepest cuts are healed by faith"(2)

        Nat leapt to her feet as the elevator began its ascent.  Minutes later, the door opened and a composed Nick Knight stepped out, feeling like a stranger in his own loft.  "Nick!  Where have you been?"
        He shook his head slowly, smiling.  As he approached her, he took her hands in his and drew her forward, kissing her forehead, and then her lips.  She pulled back, surprise and joy in her face.  "Soon, Nick," she murmured.  He merely smiled again, and dropped her hands as they turned as one to look up at the balcony where his master stood, still not moving.  Nick walked quietly to the stairs, looking back at Nat before he started up them.  His mind was clearer than it had been in centuries.  Now, at last, he had this choice that he had been searching for.

        When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned momentarily to LaCroix, and his heart threatened to break.  <<Almost over, Father>>  Yet he knew LaCroix did not - would not - hear him.  Turning away again he headed for the bedroom, and a moment later LaCroix followed.  Nat
watched as the door clicked shut.  Five minutes.  She glanced at her watch and sat herself down on the arm of the couch to wait.  It struck her then that the black silk shirt Nick had been wearing had seemed slightly too big for him, as if it was not his own.

        Only when the door was closed did LaCroix look up at his son, his eyes stone cold, his expression carefully schooled.  Nick stood for a moment, and then stepped towards his father, hesitating as LaCroix moved further away.  "LaCroix...."
        Ice blue eyes flicked up for a moment before he averting his gaze.  He indicated the bed.  "You will be safer if you are lying down."
        Nick made no attempt to move.  "Please, let me in, Lucien."
        The ancient's eyes rose again quickly, stabbing Nick with a vicious stare.  "I will do no such thing.  You have made your choice.  I will do this last favour and I will leave."
        "Fine."  Nick stepped around LaCroix, reaching down to take his father's hand in his.  "Then let's go."  Confused now, LaCroix refused to budge.
        "Nicholas, where are we going?"  The anger in his voice was laced with grief, and Nick could tell that he was barely maintaining this front.  He was not the only one.
        "Away from here, before Nat comes up demanding that you hand me over so  that she can pump me full of mortal blood."
        LaCroix continued to stare at him.  "I don't..."
        Nick blinked back sudden tears of exhaustion as his exterior composure almost failed him.  "Please."
        But LaCroix was shaking his head.  "I can't, Nicholas."  His voice cracked.  "I can't watch you throw this chance away, as much as I don't want to lose you.  This is what you want."
        Nick took both of LaCroix's hands in his then.  "I've made my decision."  He softened his tone as he sank deeper into his father's tear-filled eyes.  "Everything's going to be all right."
        Still uncertain, the ancient allowed himself to be led.  Nick glanced up at the skylight as the sound of the elevator caught his attention.  "We have to go now."  Unbelieving, LaCroix gripped his son's hands tightly and they both took to the air.

        Nat stood as the elevator started to move.  She was not sure who else  had a key or door-code to this place.  Janette, perhaps?  Heart beating wildly, she looked up to the door of Nick's bedroom and checked her watch.  Three and a half minutes had passed.  She decided it was enough, and picking up the velvet medical roll from the table she started for the stairs.  She heard the elevator stop, and the door open.  "Natalie, wait."  Tracy's voice surprised her, but the look on her face gave away too much and suddenly she was running.
        She took the wooden stairs two at a time, and raced across the balcony, her fingers on the door handle as soon as she could reach it.  Yet something in her heart told her it was too late.  As she pushed the door open she felt the blast of cold wind from the open skylight.  A million questions flew through her mind.  Yet all she could ask Tracy was, "Why?"

*

        They had prepared the room at the Raven before they had left.  Vachon had contacted Tracy and asked her to come over.  And they had explained everything... almost everything.  The deep kiss as they parted was kept a secret, something for the two of them, something neither wanted to lose.

        Nick had gone to the loft... and some minutes later Vachon had followed.  And waited.  And when the time was right he had descended into the building unseen, and taken two small vials from a medical bag on the table.  Nick had made the second most important decision of his life based on a scruffy Spaniard's opinion of him.  That scruffy Spaniard was determined that the beautiful blond did not live to regret it.

*

        Nick and LaCroix sat on the freshly made bed, the amber glow of a hundred candles surrounding them.  The cream of the rug, the duvet, the pillows gave a little comfort.  For each, the presence of the other gave more.  LaCroix sat up on the bed, legs folded to one side, heart breaking even as it healed.  Nick sat very close, one leg hanging over the edge of the high bed, his father's hands clutching at and held by his.  The journey here - both physical and spiritual - had been
emotional for each.  What they needed now was time.  And space.  Nick had already decided that they should get away for a while.

        LaCroix had found himself unable - maybe for the first time in centuries - to express what was within him.  It truly was over.  His son's search for mortality, his quest to leave his father's side was at
an end.  An escape had been presented and Nicholas had turned away, finally looking to his sire for forgiveness and acceptance.  Why?

        Their foreheads pressed together, Nick simply sat, as Vachon had done for him earlier.  LaCroix was attempting to pull himself together and failing.  Finally he raised his head to stare at Nick.  "I don't understand," he managed.  "It was right in front of you.  Everything you've wanted for so long, everything you've fought for.  Why didn't you take it?"
        Nick hesitated, and then drew his sire's hands to his lips and kissed the cold fingers, moving to stand.  Immediately LaCroix grasped him, looking up with such vulnerability in his eyes that Nick could not bear to hurt him further.  Soon enough, LaCroix would bury this part of him that tragedy after tragedy had wrenched to the surface.  He settled again, entwining his fingers with those that held his.  For a short time he tried to put together a sentence, an explanation of everything that had led him here.  Finally a smile crossed his face and he looked up, his head tilted, his eyes dancing.  "Because Javier said he would miss me?"  At LaCroix's sudden look of disbelief, Nick shook his head.  He
could not explain, not in words.

        So he stood, gently pulling out of LaCroix's firm but gentle grasp, placing his hand against his sire's shoulder and moving around him to sit in the same position behind him.  A moment later the scent of Nicholas' blood filled the room.  LaCroix twisted around, but Nick was already offering his slashed wrist.  "Drink.  Read.  It's the only and best way."  With painful tenderness, LaCroix licked at the healing wound Nick had made before sinking his fangs into the pale flesh.  A groan rose from his throat as he drew the blood of his most precious child into him.  He was being flooded with emotion, far too complex to translate, yet so simple as to render him with no answer to the tide of love and of sorrow.  There was no regret, just a growing need to be accepted, to be wanted and needed and loved by some of his own kind. There was his soul, bared to LaCroix as he drank deeper, the light and shadow of his former, mortal self, merged as one with the sweet darkness of his vampiric incarnation.  There was no clear answer to explain Nick's decision.

        Nick closed his eyes as LaCroix drank from him.  Ripples of pleasure ran down his spine, spreading tendrils of warmth through him.  He laid his cheek on the back of his father's neck, kissing the pale skin once, murmuring softly to himself.  LaCroix could feel Nicholas' advancing weakness yet he could not stop.  He wanted too much to take his son within him, to keep him near, so near that none could ever threaten their bond again.  Possession rose up from within; Nicholas was his child, his creation, and no mortal nor vampire had the right to separate them.  He settled his fangs deeper.

        Nick opened his eyes.  Red fire burned in the amber glow as he turned his face into the ancient's neck.  Part of him wanted to be drained. The submission required, the control needed to allow this was complete and absolute.  The vampire would fight for survival at any cost.  Nicholas nuzzled the alabaster throat before him, lapping at the skin with his tongue when the simple contact was no longer enough.  Deep inside the vampire was screaming, clawing to be freed, to fight this
attacker.  Yet Nick held out, feeling himself taken deeper and deeper into his master.  Wanting nothing more than to be there.

        LaCroix came back to himself in a rush.  Realizing what he was doing, he stopped drinking immediately, starting to pull out.  Nick let out a low sound between a sob and a plea, he pushed his wrist against his sire's mouth.  LaCroix refused, licking the savage wounds he had made as he withdrew his fangs.  "No, Nicholas.  I cannot."  He felt strong again, felt his own creation's blood surging through his veins.  His son was collapsed against his back, and in a graceful motion LaCroix turned, catching Nick as he fell.  Gathering the weakened vampire into his arms, he slit his own jugular with his nail and pressed Nick's mouth to the cut.  The vampire fought past the barriers and freed itself, latching onto LaCroix's throat with needle-sharp teeth, gulping down the blood as if starved of it for centuries.

        The world righted itself once again.  For Nick the day had been almost impossible.  The moment Nat had told him of her discovery his universe had tilted.  His dreams had become a reality, yet his reality had also become his dreams, and as usual, the two did not match.  They were mutually exclusive.  He could be mortal, human, have the sun, a family, Natalie.  Yet his losses would have been huge; LaCroix, his father, his lover, his world; Vachon, a true friend and sometimes more; Tracy who now knew what he was and was not bothered by it.  And Janette - of course Janette.

        He had finally made a decision.  He had chosen life.

*

        "All he said was that it was too much too late, and that he would come and see you.  Once he had calmed LaCroix."
        Nat dried her eyes, trying to think about the situation from Nick's point of view and failing.  "I guess... I guess I hadn't realized how close they had become lately.  I just thought....  It's all he's wanted since the moment we met and for centuries before that.  I can't believe he's just turned his back on his dreams."  Tracy's heart went out to Nat.  She knew it took courage and strength to love a vampire, especially one as edgy and volatile as Nick.  But he had been so sure when she had met him and Vachon at the Raven earlier in the day.  She did not doubt that it was the choice he had needed to make.  "I'm going to lose him.  He's going to leave, to move on with LaCroix... that
evil... bastard."  Her anger flared.  "I work for six years for Nick and when I finally find the answer we've been searching for, he turns me down for the master he's hated all these years!"
        Tracy shook her head.  "Nat, I don't know too much about their relationship.  I've hardly seen Nick since that night I found out what he was.  But I know him.  I know he would never willingly hurt you.  You simply put him in an impossible position, asked him to make a choice he couldn't make."
        "Me or ... or him."
        "No.  Mortality or immortality, to be with his friends as he is now.  To be with LaCroix... and maybe even with Vachon."
        Nat's eyes went wide.  "You're kidding?"
        Smiling, Tracy shook her head.  "It was just a feeling I got.  Vachon was with Nick at the Raven this afternoon, and although he was the same with me as he always is, his concern for Nick....  I don't know, as I said, just a feeling."
        "And you're okay with that?"
        "They're vampires Nat, their needs are different to ours.  As least if Vachon's nibbling on Nick he'll be less inclined to nibble on me when we get... close."  She gazed at Nat.  "I'm sorry.  This must be so difficult for you."
        "I love him."'
        Tracy slid her arm around her friend.  "Let's get out of here, okay?"

***

Epilogue - a month later

        Dressed in black silk pyjamas, Nick shuffled around on LaCroix's bed until he was comfortable.  Amused, he watched his sire hunting through the contents of an upturned case spread out on the floor.  The room was bathed in the amber glow of candlelight that played wonderfully on the cream walls and the few paintings.  Nick sipped the wine-laced blood from his glass and began to admire his master's lithe form.  Sitting cross-legged, he looked like a slim version of the black Buddha he had invested so much of his angst in.  He shivered slightly.

        LaCroix looked up as he felt his son's momentary discomfort.  "Nicholas?"
        "I'm fine, it's nothing."  He smiled reassuringly and expected LaCroix, thus satisfied, to return his attention to the task in hand.  Instead, his master continued to gaze at him, his ice blue eyes caressing Nick's body as surely as his fingers had done earlier that evening.  Nick flushed.  "What?"
        "You're beautiful.  You look as beautiful and as tempting sitting there in my silk pyjamas - which I might add are too big for you - as you did eight hundred years ago in that transparent white chemise."
        Nick smiled, remembering the moment he had first laid eyes on LaCroix.  "I knew, you know, who I was there for that night."  LaCroix's eyebrows furrowed in what Nick saw as a very expressive gesture.  "Janette may have been the one to lure me to you, she may have been the one I lusted after, but you... you were the reason I was there.  I knew the moment I saw the way you looked at me," he lowered his voice almost seductively, "the tempered lust, the parting of your lips, like I was the most sumptuous of dishes.  When you towered above me, leaned down to bite me,
to sink your teeth into my throat, as I felt myself pouring into you I had the most intense feeling of sexuality and sensuality."
        LaCroix smiled.  "That is the idea, Nicholas."
        "But to feel it with you, a stranger, a man...."
        The ancient abandoned his search and stood, settling himself on the bed.  "I saw you one night, heading for a feast.  I was entranced.  For the first time since Janette, I wanted more than simply to take you into me.  I wanted to have you forever, to bask in you for eternity.  I knew you wouldn't come to me, so I pointed you out to Janette and gave her free rein to bring you to me.  She was as captured by your countenance as I was.  When I entered the room that night, and you lay back, you
took my breath away.  You gave into me so easily, so willingly.  I wouldn't have allowed you cross to death, I wanted you as badly as Janette did."

        Nick's lips parted as his father's fingers touched his cheek, caressing with a feather-light movement.  Their month together touring the more remote areas of Canada had provided the needed time for healing.  They had returned to a very warm welcome at the Raven, and Vachon's greeting
of Nick lasted just a few moments longer than LaCroix would have really liked.  That relationship had been a topic of discussion only at the very end of their trip.  Nick had taken control of his life, and he was not willing to give that up.

        "Lucien... stop it."  There was a note of humour in Nick's voice. "I'm your son.  Nothing can change that.  Je t'aime, j'ai besoin de toi, je te desire.  Always."
        LaCroix smiled.  "I just try to keep believing that."  Caught in the moment, Nick rose to his knees, taking his father's face in his hands, pressing his lips to LaCroix's mouth.  Wrapping his arms around his son, LaCroix opened to Nick's tongue, biting it gently, coaxing him inside. Nick melted into LaCroix's embrace, his arms going around the strong neck, one hand holding the ancient's shoulder, the other pushing into the short hair.

        As the kiss deepened, Nick started to squirm, trying to get closer to the firm body.  His attempt to pull one leg out from under him momentarily stunned LaCroix as a knee suddenly nudged him hard in his groin.  Nick felt the hiss into his mouth, and silently he apologized using their wide-open link.  He managed to hook his right, freed leg over LaCroix's and shifted his weight to his right buttock.  As he tried to pull his left leg out from under himself, he felt LaCroix giggle into their kiss.  Nick pulled back, grinning.  LaCroix burst into laughter.    "What?"
        "Nicholas, what exactly are you trying to do?"
        "I want to sit on you."
        "Well... sit back and bring that leg around...." With the patience of a long-suffering parent, LaCroix untangled his son's limbs only for Nick to wrap them back around him.
        "That's better, now I can feel you."  Nick returned his lips to LaCroix's, kissing him deeply, before moving to his throat.  "I always..." he breathed between kisses to the pale skin, "asked myself... why I... could never... let you go... from my life."  LaCroix's hands captured his son's face and brought the lucious mouth back to his own.  Holding him in the kiss, LaCroix's nimble fingers worked the buttons on the pyjamas that were keeping the beautifully muscled body from him.

        Nick's hands were already working their way down the pale chest revealed by the robe, tied loosely around his father's body.  He located the knot of satin between their stomachs and skilfully released it, pushing the sides of the material away.  His fingers grasped LaCroix's cock, forcing a startled moan of pleasure from his sire.  LaCroix broke the kiss and drew his head back to gaze into the dancing eyes of his son.  "So desperate, Nicholas?  After such a short time...."  But there was more arousal in his tone than there was teasing, and his words were not backed up by the rest of his body, betraying his own state.

        Nick did not answer, instead he shifted back and swung his legs around, pulling off his pyjama bottoms.  A moment later he was back straddling his father's lap, his mouth roaming LaCroix's neck and shoulders while the other's hands stroked his skin.  In an easy movement, LaCroix shifted backwards until he was leaning on the corner post of the bed and his son was kneeling over him.  LaCroix's hands kneaded Nick's firm buttocks, his fingertips slipping between the cheeks.  Nick moaned as his father's fingers played around the circle of his anus and he pressed back against them, despite the pain he knew would accompany the dry entry.  Immediately, LaCroix removed his fingers, pushing them instead into the muscles of Nicholas' cheeks.  The low growl of denial rumbled
up from Nick's throat before he pulled back from his father's mouth to murmur, "Take me."
        LaCroix spoke honestly.  "I do not want to hurt you."
        Eyes blazing gold, Nick shook his head.  "I don't care."
        "I know you don't.  But I do."  LaCroix pushed Nick back gently and slapped his rump with a flat palm.  "Turn around."
        Finally realizing what his father was trying to do, Nick complied, smiling in anticipation.  He turned and leaned forward, up on all fours with his ass presented to LaCroix.  Looking back over his shoulder, Nick grinned, fangs fully extended, and wriggled his ass invitingly.

        Grasping his son's hips, LaCroix pulled him back.  He stroked admiring hands over the round buttocks, before leaning forward slightly to kiss one, and then nip the other, drawing small drops of blood.  With an undying tenderness, he wiped his thumb through the ruby nectar, lapping at the stain he made.  Then he pulled back and parted his son's thighs slightly, exposing the tight anus for his scrutiny.

        The slow torture was starting to drive Nick insane.  He knew better than to move from this position.  LaCroix knew what he wanted and was merely making him wait for his pleasure.  But even his tolerance was reaching its limit.  As his thighs were moved further apart, a sudden moment of vulnerability took him, dampening his arousal a little.  And then he felt LaCroix's blood-covered thumb pad brush over his anus.  His desire flared up, a long moan issuing from his lips.

        LaCroix pushed his thumb against the small opening, watching its refusal to allow his entrance.  Enflamed, he licked a line from the base of Nicholas' heavy testicles to the tight muscle which gave in to the wet press of his tongue.

        Nick groaned softly.  He loved this, and LaCroix knew it.  The ancient had been the one to teach him the pleasures of bedding another man, and although he had never taken another it was the one thing that heated his blood over anything else.  He adored the idea of the powerful vampire
worshipping his ass, eating his ass.  The mere thought turned him on like nothing else.  He pushed back, but could only encourage LaCroix further inside, he could not impale himself on the slick muscle.

        LaCroix ran a single finger up the same path his tongue had taken, and slipped it inside, pushing inwards, twisting to find Nick's prostate.  A sharp cry from his son told him that he had located what he sought.  He caressed the gland, stroking back and forth in an unmerciful torture.  Nick's thrusts were becoming more violent, more insistent with every motion.  With his free hand, LaCroix reached around and grasped his son's rampant cock, pressing his finger tips in at precise points at the base of the engorged organ.  Nick cried out in protest, and then again as the tongue and finger were removed from his ass.
        "Ssh, mon fils, I wasn't planning on making you wait."
        Nick felt himself being pulled back, and a strong arm wrapped around his chest, lifting him.  LaCroix positioned his cock and impaled his son slowly.  Nick dropped his head back, a long keening moan escaping him as he was lowered.  When his father was as deep inside his body as the
position would allow, they stilled.  LaCroix's hands moved in long strokes over Nicholas' thighs, hips, stomach and chest, loving the body with which his son worshipped him.  Nick curved his back, his hands reaching down to grasp LaCroix's thighs.
        "Please, Lucien...."  LaCroix smiled, kissing his way across his son's shoulders, scratching his finger nails lightly down the perfect spine.

        They had found their lovemaking touching the limits of their vampire natures; abject violence and infinite care, the bloodlust meeting their most intimate fantasies in absolute harmony.  Always the trust was there, and LaCroix ensured his son was comfortable with whatever they were doing.  Their widening bond had deepened, and now LaCroix could feel Nicholas' desperation for release.

        Nick almost screamed when his father's hand wrapped his cock in a firm grip.  Fighting the embrace with which he was being held, Nick tried to move on his father's cock.  LaCroix smiled into Nicholas' neck, with plans of his own.  Opening his mouth, he scraped his needle fangs over the pale flesh.  Tiny red welts bled slightly onto tongue.  LaCroix fixed his mouth to Nick's neck and agonisingly slowly he speared his son with his fangs.  The deep, slow penetration sent Nick toppling over the edge without LaCroix moving his hand or his cock.

        LaCroix settled his teeth deeper, starting to slowly drink down his son's blood.  The feeling of being pulled into his father, of being taken at the most intimate of levels, pushed Nick into the throws of another violent orgasm.  That orgasm coloured Nick's blood, enriching it as LaCroix tasted him.  The ancient knew his son needed to bite, but he deliberately kept his wrists where Nick couldn't get them to his mouth. The younger vampire's growls became insistent.

        Shivers of orgasm were still driving through Nick when LaCroix's hand abruptly left his cock.  A moment later, sharp fingernails were being dragged viciously down the length of his cock.  Nick looked down and howled when he saw the blood start to run.  LaCroix's hand grasped him again, squeezing before scratching once more.  Nick came furiously, screaming his father's name in an ancient dialect as he felt LaCroix's cock pulsing in his ass.  Raising his arm, LaCroix bit his son's neck
deeper when Nick returned the bite.

        The two vampires collapsed back, LaCroix using the bedpost for support while his son fell against his chest.  The blood circle remained between them, speaking of fantasies fulfilled and an eternity of passion between them.  Finally, LaCroix pulled out of his son, lifting Nick slowly from
his cock, careful not to hurt.  He deftly manoeuvred them both under the dark satin sheets, holding his son close.

        Silence remained between them for a long, comfortable time before Nick spoke.  "What were you looking for in that suitcase, Lucien?"
        "I can't remember, Nicholas."  LaCroix kissed his son's hair, basking in the afterglow.  "I'm sure it wasn't important."
        Everything that had needed to be discussed had been settled between them while they had been away.  Terms, on which they could live together in the real world where they had to survive, had been agreed upon.  It had not escaped their thoughts that nearly two thousand years ago, LaCroix had put into place the one thing that would finally return to reunite him with a son he had then not even laid eyes upon.  Divia had brought too many changes with her for them to be accepted easily or
quickly.  But Nicholas and LaCroix had almost eight hundred years on which to build.

        Out of the ashes had come the phoenix, and a fire which embraced and enflamed them both.  Perhaps this time it would be for eternity.

fin
elfin

--
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  +++ UF : NightHaven Founder : http://www.burble.com/jane/fk.htm +++
                                  ---
"I have seen stranger things in my time - men who walk through fire,
children born speaking long-dead languages... and Harry Houdini had
rather a nifty trick with handcuffs and a tank full of water." - LaCroix