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 His bathroom took her breath away.  A hot tub big enough for
six sat on a raised obsidian dais.  Unlike her room, roman frescoes
covered these arching walls, depictions of a time long dead.
Potted plants stood throughout the beautiful structure,  droplets of
moisture clinging to their emerald leaves. This brought back to her
sharp, and clear, just what and who she was dealing with.   Those
Grecian pots were not reproductions.

 She brushed her teeth and started combing through the thick
curls of her hair.  A knock interrupted her mid-stroke.  Think of the
devil, she thought, and he shall appear.  "Come in!"

 He walked in carrying two wine glasses, both full of a dark
red liquid. He held one out to her, his expression carefully blank.
A half remembered night at Azure surfaced for a brief moment.  She
looked in suspicion at the liquid.  "Are you going to drug me again?"
It was a test of her memory, and of his reaction.

 "So, you do remember that night; or at least parts of it.
And yet, still you came."  He nodded to her in respect.  "No, I give
you my word, I did not drug the wine this time.  I but wanted to
propose a toast, and then retire to bed."

 It was real.  She concentrated, trying to recapture the
memory, but even that small wisp disappeared.  Wary, she took the
wine, and waited for whatever deep philosophical toast he was in the
mood to provide.

 With a half smile that did not reach his eyes, he held his
own up.  "To family, and the bonds that tie them together."

 "To family," She echoed and drained the glass in one deep
swallow.  Too late she realized what he'd done.  The metallic sweet
taste of his blood burned a trail over her tongue, the flames
shooting down her throat.

 "Lucien?" She gasped.  Her eyes sought his in a wordless
plea.  The taste remained, imprinting itself on her tongue, on her
very soul.  "Why?"

He took the empty glass from her unresisting fingers.  "You
know too many of our weaknesses.  I entrusted my own safety.  You
will feel the link soon."

 Her physician's training took over.  What did you do after
ingesting a poison?  Induce vomiting.  She pushed past him, almost
running to the toilet. Her finger was half way down her throat in
moments.

 "It is too late Doctor.  The damage is done."  LaCroix's words
caressed  through her mind.  So it was. His lips hadn't moved.  She
rocked back on her heals, as a barrage of images assailed her.  There
was no way to control them, and no time to attach any form of meaning
to the mess.

 She told herself the tears running down her face were from
the gag reflex.  LaCroix made no mention of it as he wiped them away
with his handkerchief.   She could feel his triumph rolling over
her,  mixed with a small amount of concern.

 The gentle kiss to her forehead took her by complete
surprise.  Had the porcelain seat not been behind her, she would have
fallen.   The emotions coming from him were as mixed as her own .
Well, at least she wasn't the only one to be surprised she thought.
But enough for one day, she had her limits.  Having him declare any
feeling for her besides distaste, was beyond those limits by more
than a couple light years.   "I think you've done enough. Get up.  I
want to be left alone."

 She could sense his growing anger, good.  She let her own
have full reign.  He'd gone too far this time.  They could have this
fight.  Bring it on, oh bastard of the roman brigade.

"Do not give me orders, Natalie.  You could not survive the
fight, and I assure you my parents, such as they were, married many
years before my birth."  He held a hand down to her, letting her take
it if she wanted.

 Rolling to the side, she stood glaring at his outstretched
hand until he withdrew it.  His help was one thing she did not
want.  "If the seduction doesn't work go straight for intimidation.
Real good there.  Sure to win over any woman's heart.   Has anyone
ever mentioned,  you leave a lot to be desired?"  She focused on a
dew drop hanging from the jade plant above him, willing it to fall.
 "That has not been one of my complaints.  It is late,   Dr.
Lambert.  We can continue this discussion later."  He turned his back
on her, pulling the armani's jacket off.  "Goodnight."

  Natalie debated the merits of staying.  She had no doubt he
would continue preparing for bed right there in front of her.

Complete strip tease, just for her, free of charge.  Her courage gave
out and she fled.  His laughter followed out the door.  A fight she
could have handled, but what do you do when he strips instead?  Like
any good girl, run the other way.

After an hour of staring at the ceiling in her room, she gave
up. The main room was deserted this time.  She looked through the
books on his shelf. If she was going to be stuck in that room all
day, she needed something to do. The chances of her getting any sleep
were almost nil.  He had a huge collection of history and philosophy.
Roman history made up the bulk of it. Hmm, she wondered, would he
tell her?  It wouldn't hurt to ask.  She walked to the closed door.

 "Hey LaCroix, when were you born?"  She didn't shout, but
with his hearing, she didn't have to.   A long pause followed.  Would
he answer?

 "Thirty eight."

 She puzzled over that one.  It was no use.  "What century?"

 "38 AD Doctor.  Now may I go to sleep?"  His exhaustion
poured over into their link.  He didn't even want to know why she was
asking him, he just wanted his sleep.  Answering must have been his
fastest alternative.

 "Yes, thank you."   She searched through the Roman books
closer. Most were written in Latin, but there were a few in English.
She settled on one by Robert Graves. It might give her insights into
her companion.

 She removed her belt, and settled into bed.  For this one
night, her work clothes would double as pj's .  She cracked the book
open,  smiling at the handwritten notes and corrections written into
the margins.  Most of the writing was small and precise, with some of
the more flamboyant script bleeding into Latin.  The gross errors she
wondered?

A few hours into the book, her eyes drifted closed.  The tome
fell forgotten onto the blanket.

 The sound of two thousand agonized screams filled the street
around her.  The air incinerated the lining of her lungs while
burning ash melted through the skin of her sandal covered feet.  The
impact of someone running full tilt into her knocked her down to the
rough hewn stones below.  She blindly scrabbled to regain her footing
in the maelstrom.  Blood from her knees trickled down in a cool
rivulet to calm the blisters already forming on her calves.

 She looked around frantic for escape, but the solid blackness
extended forever.  She questioned if her eyes had burned beyond
usefulness.   Running blind away from where she instinctively knew
the fire came from, she tripped over the still form of a body.
Unable to stand this time, she crawled over it, huddling against it's
side for whatever protection it might afford her.   Her hair was
gone.  No, not gone, just short.   Curling into a fetal position she
screamed out her own agony and terror.

 The echoes of the sound jarred her to immediate wakefulness,
as did the door crashing into the wall.  LaCroix stood there,
looking haggard, dressed only in a robe.  Blood sweat dripped down
his body.   Her heart pounded against her ribcage in panic.
 "LaCroix?"

 He closed his eyes, and nodded.  "Perhaps it would be best to
not read Roman history before bedtime.  Are you well?"
"I've been better.  I didn't read about that last night.
Caligula is where I left off."  That had to be a volcano or a bomb.
If he said Roman history caused that, she stopped,
considering.  "That was Pompeii." It wasn't  a question. "You were
there."

 "Yes.  I had the questionable privilege of an eyewitness view
to the fury of Vesuvius.  You should not have seen that."  He ran his
hand through his hair.  "Come, unless you prefer to return to your
dreams, there is much to be done tonight."

 Natalie didn't have to be told twice.  That was one dream,
she hoped never to return to.  "So, no complimentary breakfast in
bed?"

 Brows raised, LaCroix swept his appraising eyes over her.  "An
interesting proposal Doctor.  Although I appreciate the offer,  now
is not the time."

 Men. She laughed, at herself, at life.    "I've heard that
before.  It's never time with Nick either."  Pulling herself out of
bed, she did her own appraisal.  Wrinkled,  if she went into work in
these clothes, Grace would think the worst.

 "Ah, so you prefer a man of action?"  He leaned against the
door frame,  arms crossed.

 "No.  I prefer scrambled eggs and hot chocolate.  Do you have
anything, besides blood in your refrigerator?"  She swept past him
and headed for the kitchen.

He followed slowly behind.  "I will have Miklos bring
something up."  He stretched over her shoulder to grab a bottle of
his own breakfast from the top shelf.  The soft cloth of his robe
brushed against her face.

 She ducked away from the unexpected closeness.  "Will I be
able to talk to Nick tonight?"

 "He may not wish to speak with you now."  LaCroix set the
bottle down.  His hand reached towards her hair, before drawing
back.  "Try to call him, your messages are by the phone.  Do not be
surprised if the gallant Knight refuses to answer."

 "Thank you."

 He smiled.  "You may not think so after your conversation,
however, you are welcome."  He drank straight from the bottle, his
eyes never leaving her face.

     She was the first to turn away.  True to his word, both
copies of the message leaned against the antique black phone.  She
picked up and dialed the odd numbers,  three high pitch tones
answered.  "This number cannot...."

 Before it could complete the recording she hung up.  Why did
that pitch have to be so high?  If the frown on LaCroix's face was
any indication he didn't like it either.   She dialed with a one this
time.   She managed to hang up by the second tone.

 "LaCroix, where is he?  The number isn't working."

"Lucien."  Automatically correcting her, he looked down at
the paper. "This is the number to my house in Paris.  He's staying
with Jeanette."  His smooth pale fingers grabbed a pen and  jotted
down a few more numbers at the beginning.  "It will work now; if you
still wish to call."

 Jeanette, Natalie fumed.  A bad comic book scene flitted
through her mind.  Meanwhile the hero abandons the maiden to the evil
wiles of the black clad villain,  and enjoys the ministrations of the
beautiful French temptress. She hoped he was enjoying the sex, as
that was the only person he'd be getting it from.   Breathe, Natalie,
she told herself.  It doesn't matter.  Just because they are together
in Paris, doesn't mean they are together in other ways.

 On the third ring, Jeanette picked up.  A mumbled "Allo?"
made it over the wires.

 "Hello, is Nick there?"  There, that was civil enough wasn't
it?  She avoided LaCroix's eyes as she waited.

 "Mmm, hold on."  She heard the hand over mouthpiece and a
rapid feminine whisper in French.  "Yes, Natalie he is here.  Would
you like to speak with him?"

 She bit her tongue against the automatic 'duh'.  "Yes."

 "Natalie!"  His voice came on less than a second later.  He
sounded more than a little tired.  So they were together.  From the
sound of things she'd managed to catch them in the middle of
together.

"Hello Nick.  How's your vacation?"  She kept her tone
light,  just polite interest.  More than that would be too painful.
 "Fine.   Nat,  we need to talk, are you at your apartment or
work?"

 Oh boy, did they ever need to talk.  A mental nudge told her
not to let him know who she was with.  She grimaced.  How to answer
that one.  "I'm at an apartment."  Honesty was always the best
policy, right?

 "Good."  He paused, voice quiet. "Nat, it's not a vacation,
I've moved on.  I faxed Cohen my resignation this morning.  It should
be on her desk by now."

 She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.  "Oh."
LaCroix had told her the truth then.  "So that's it then?  Everything
we've worked for is over?"  She blinked hard,   "We're over?"
 "I'm sorry.  I couldn't...it was too hard to tell you in
person."  His voice was hoarse.   In the background on his end she
could hear the slamming of a door.  Jeanette?

 That was just too bad.  She dashed her unwanted tears away
with her hand.  Rage was taking the place of hurt.  There was no way
she was letting him off easy this time.  "Why Nick?" She
demanded.   "Why now?  Were you afraid I might cry on your shoulder
or beg you to stay?"  She let a small amount of contempt
through.  "Could you still say goodbye then?  Or is that what you are
afraid of?"

"Yes!  I left for your safety.  If I had stayed I would have
killed you, or perhaps worse.  You don't want that Nat.  Enjoy your
mortal life,  forget about me.  Forget about the community."  The
voice on the other end was small now, sounding choked up in his own
grief.

 Give me a break Nick, she fumed.  "How do you know what I
want?  You never once asked me what I wanted.  It was always what you
wanted.  I gave up six years of my life for you.  Did you ever even
ask yourself, what I wanted?  Did you think it was a Dear John
telephone call?"

 "I will not damn you. " His voice was dead serious
now.  "Don't ask it of me.   You are too good, too light for this
miserable existence.  You know what I've gone through to regain my
mortality, and you want this?"

 Great, back on the unreachable pedestal again.  She shook her
head, sick of his reasoning.   "You know something Nick, you don't
have it all that bad.  I don't think you believe it either, or you
would have gone sunbathing in Maui a long time ago.  Eternal youth,
never worrying about cancer, and all the time in the world to do
whatever you want;  not such a bad trade for staying out of the sun.
Not a bad trade at all."

 She noticed LaCroix's absence for the first time.  Just as
well. Enjoyable as staking him, or anyone would be, Nick was her
preferred target, one sharp toothpick at a time. "You could
have told me goodbye.  You owed me that much."

"I am telling you goodbye.  I love you Nat, and I am so sorry
things didn't turn out better.  Someday you will forgive me."  His
beloved voice sounded so broken.  But it didn't fix anything.  Just
made things so much worse.

 "No,"  She leaned her forehead against the wall in
defeat. "No, I won't. It's not enough Nick, not nearly enough."  She
gently hung the phone back into it's cradle and allowed the tears to
flow.
 

End Chapter 2
To be continued ;-)