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

      "I can't make it in tonight, Grace.  Cross off another sick
day."  Natalie cradled her head in her arms, while holding the phone
in a shaky grip.

      "That's three days.   Have you seen the doctor yet?  You sound
horrible."  Grace asked, the concern evident in her tone.

      "I am a doctor, remember?  I'll be fine,  just need some more
sleep.  Tell Nick to drop by after his shift and bring me some
tylenol, okay?"

      "No problem, you take care of yourself.  We'll hold down the
fort.  Night, Natalie."

      "Bye."  The last croaked out, and she hung the phone up in
relief. With trembling steps, she made it back to the bed.  She
blinked at the mess around her, used tissues overflowed from the
paperbag to the floor below.  When had the pile gotten that high?
Ugh.

      In misery, she crawled back under the covers.  Later, she
thought, she'd pick up the mess, later.   Four nights now,  she's
lain here, semiconcious, wishing the throbbing behind her eyes would
go away,  and her nose would clear up enough to breath without
sounding like a kazoo.  Could she survive another night?  Did she
want to?   Eyes drifting shut, she sent a silent prayer up for more
than two hours undisturbed sleep.
 
      She startled awake,  her senses taking a few minutes to
respond past the panic that her jarred into wakefullness.  Someone
made noise in her kitchen.  She froze, trying to determine who it
was, and what they wanted.  Nick?  Was it that late, already?  She
turned to look at the clock.  6am, if that was Knight, he was late.
Two and a half hours late, and by now the sun was well up.

      Now, he'd have to stay the day.  Ugh.  A betraying sneeze
wrenched itself from her raw nose, and she whimpered an animal
protest against the pain.   Too hot to stand it anymore, she kicked
the bedding to the foot of the bed and curled into a shivering fetal
ball.  Life couldn't get worse than this.

      The hallway light flicked on, and she realized she was
wrong.  Agony shot through her sensitive eyes.  "Off!"  She meant to
scream it at him, instead it came out as a loud rasp.  Nick got the
idea, the light flicked back off with an acompanied low chuckled.
She felt him behind her, at the doorway, the mental vibrations she'd
come to associate with vampires radiated off him in waves tonight.

      All day with him in the house, all to herself and she was too
sick to do anything about it.  Not that he ever would anyway,
knowing him, he wanted her to listen to him whine all day.   Or
not.   "Unless you plan on putting me out of my misery, or bringing
me across, you better have tylenol."  God, how pathetic, she sounded
like a frog;  a half dead frog choking on a horse fly.

      "An interresting proposition, Doctor, or should I
say...daughter.  I am fresh out of Tylenol."

      LaCroix, of course, it would be him.  How else could her
night get any worse without that fiend from hell, inviting himself to
the nightmare.  "What do you want, LaCroix?  You're not welcome
here."  She rolled over and felt for the covers as her fever spiked
again.  Her teeth chattering, she stared up, waiting for him to make
the next move.

      "You are feverish."  It wasn't a question, and was that
concern she heard in his voice?  No, it couldn't be.  You're dreaming
again, Nat thought.

        This is all just a figment of your imagination.   What was he
wearing?  She squinted.  Jeans?  Black jeans to be sure, but the
ancient master vampire in anything as casual as jeans had to be a
dream.   She watched his tight legs walk over to the bed, and didn't
protest when he pulled the covers to her chin.  Yep, LaCroix playing
nursemaid fell under fever induced hallucinations.  Once she realized
it was just a dream, she smiled innocently up at him.  "So,  where's
your candy striper dress?"

      LaCroix hiked a brow.  "I beg your pardon?"

      He sounded offended.  Good.  At least if she had
hallucinations of people, they should stay in character.  She looked
back down at the jeans, hoping they would melt into something a
little more...pink.  "Well, get changed, this is my dream, so move,
and bring back tylenol."

      He regarded her as though she were a nutcase standing on the
freeway waving a whip.  "Perhaps I should call the hospital, you are
truly not well."

      "Do, and you're a dead man.  Oh wait, you are dead."  She had
to stop as another coughing fit wracked her body.  "My bad."  His icy
hand rested on her forehead,  testing her temperature.  The touch was
a splash of icewater to her brain.  "This isn't a dream, is it,
LaCroix?"

      He laughed, soft, the first time she'd heard him do so with
true humor since she'd met him.  "No, Doctor Lambert, this is no
dream."

      "Why are you here?"

      "I was hunting, and took a bullet.  It can wait, however.  I
don't trust you with a knife at the moment."

      Her mind started to wander again. "You're lucky, LaCroix.  You
probably don't even remember what it feels like to be sick, do you?"

      "No, it's been too long."  He wiped her brow with the
sheet.  "You need not suffer like this,  Nicholas is wrong,
immortality is not damnation.  It is a blessing.  How foolish it is
to believe that a god wants you to suffer, and even more foolish to
worship such a twisted ideal."

      "I'm not up for a religious debate right now."  She closed
her eyes in pain, needing to feel better, no matter the
cost.  "Please, LaCroix,  get it over with."  She turned her head
aside, knowing what she was doing, and certain of it.  Sorry, Nick.
She waited for the cold lips on her neck.

      "Not so fast, I already have one child who regrets his
decision. There will be no attempts to go back.  I would have your
oath, first.  Swear to obey me, and accept me as your brother and
ally for eternity."

      She swallowed, and stared into those intense blue eyes,  a
mere handsbreadth from her own.  "I swear."  She sealed her fate with
those two words.  He smiled, slow, and allowed the change to come
over him.  He closed his eyes, and a second later, their golden glow
looked back at her.

      "Good. Never forget it."  He kneeled behind her, pulling her
back against him.   He gently bit through to the artery,  calming her
with a carress.  Hearing the sounds of him swallowing, and growling
against her back, she relaxed into his embrace.  Her field of vision
slowly narrowed, going gray and then blacking out completely.

      At the last possible second, LaCroix pulled away and bit into
his own wrist.  Coming here this morning, had proved a much better
decision than he'd ever dreamed possible.  He held the wrist to her
lips, and smiled when her throat worked to swallow the life giving
liquid.   He always thought he'd have to force the beautiful Doctor
to join the club.  It was nice to be wrong.
 

End chapter 1.