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      Natalie stood under the heavy spray of water, letting it beat
against her back.  In the other room, she knew both men waited for
her, to discuss the future, and the present.  God only knew what they
were discussing right now.  She closed her eyes in shame.  The clear
water swirled down the drain now, the blood long since washed away.
She still didn't feel clean.  She'd killed someone tonight, and then
topped it off by sleeping with two men.

      Numb, she grabbed the soap and started to scrub again.  Red
tears trailed down her face, dripping in great pink splotches at the
bottom of the shower stall.  What have you done, Nat?

      "Natalie?"  LaCroix's voice broke through the pounding of the
water.  He stood at the entrance to the guest bathroom.   The creamy
color of his chest bare through the frosted glass of the shower door.

      "Go away."  She winced at the tears in her voice, the raw
pain it reflected.

      Ignoring her command, he reached into the stall and turned
the water off.  She backed into the corner as far away from him as
the tiny stall allowed and covered her breasts.

      "It's a little late for modesty, Doctor.  My mark will never
be washed away."

      "Do you think I don't know that?"

      "Do you?"  He pulled the terry cloth towel from the rack, and
wrapped it around her.  "What is this, if  not an attempt to remove
me from your skin?"  He traced a droplet of water down her back with
his finger.  "Ten minutes is enough to take off dirt and blood,
you've been in here over an hour."  Lifting the finger to his mouth,
he licked the droplet off.

      She shook her head and pushed away from him.  "It's not you.
I killed a man.  I didn't think it would be this hard, he deserved to
die, but, I'm not a killer.  God, the memories he carried.   I..."
Shuddering, she trailed off.

      "You did what needed to be done.  Mortals die."

      He didn't understand, she saw it in his stance, in the
concern in his eyes.

      Rather than argue with him, she shrugged.  "Don't worry about
it, Lucien.  Just leave me alone, I'm fine."

      "You're not fine,"  he retorted.

      "So, what are you going to do, produce the magic bandaid and
make everything better?  As you said, it's a little late for that."

      "I should have killed him."

      If anything, that upset her more.  "No!" She pushed past him,
out of the stall.  "Allowing you do the dirty work won't make the
crime any less.  If I couldn't do it, then it didn't need to be
done."

      LaCroix followed, and pulled her against him.  Wiping the
remaining tears from her face, he asked in a gentle voice,  "Is this
all that disturbs you, the death of that mortal filth?"

      She jerked away, unable to look at him, still seeing both men
in her bed, sharing her like a street slut. "Nooo, and I don't want
to talk about it."

      He lifted the blood tear to his mouth, choosing to find out
from there what she refused to tell him.  Natalie fought the urge to
yank his finger away, before it was too late,  but the warning in his
cold face held her back.  She watched, mortified,  as he sucked the
finger clean and closed his eyes.

      "Ah."

      That's it?  He finally gets a clue, and all he can say
is `ah?'  She shook her head in disgust and walked out.  "Leave it
alone, LaCroix."

      "Nicholas had my permission, as well as yours, Natalie.
There is nothing to be ashamed of.  This is what we are."

      He didn't give up, did he?  "You may be, but I am not."  She
stormed past Nick, ignoring his silent query.  When he rose from the
bed to follow her, she glared at him.

      "Don't, Nick."

      "Is something wrong?"

      Give the man ten points for seeing the obvious.  "No!"

      "Yes."  LaCroix drawled from where he leaned against the
doorway.

      "No one asked you, LaCroix.  I said there was nothing wrong.
I'm fine!"

      "You're yelling."

      She opened her mouth to argue, but closed it, the words left
unsaid. Instead, she dressed in the clothes laid out for her.
Someone had gone shopping again, that or Janette donated to the
cause.

      The feeling of someone watching her made her look up.  They
both stood staring at her with varying degrees of hunger.
Wonderful.  She colored under the avid attention of the two
men.   "Do you mind?"

      Nick glanced away first, leaving LaCroix smirking at her
chest.  Grand. She finished zipping the pants into place, doing her
best to ignore him.

      Finding his voice, and perhaps his brain at the same time,
Nick spoke up. "Nat, we need to go to the precinct.  I took care of
the body of Mr. Jamieson,  it looks like a suicide.  By now, they
should have searched his apartment, and found the evidence linking
him to the dead women."

      LaCroix walked to the closet, and picked through his own
clothes. "I'll be joining you.  Natalie is too young to be around
mortals without me."

      Nick looked like he wanted to protest, but LaCroix continued
without giving him the chance.

      "You won't be able to stop her change, Nicholas.  You're not
her master.  I am."

      Nick flinched. "I know."  Those two words sounded with
remorse, acknowledging an opportunity lost forever.

      Natalie looked at the pain on his face, and a small part of
her that regretted last night, melted away.   "Wait.  I remained in
control surrounded by mortals last night.  It wasn't until Jamie
attacked me that I lost control.  I'll be fine with Nick."

      "Ah, very well thought out, but last night I was still close
by, and the few mortals below are nothing compared to the police
station.  The fear and desperation of the criminals will call to
you.  If you don't believe me, ask Nick.  We can't afford the risk
right now.  Either I go with you, or you don't go at all."

      Not looking happy, Nick gave one brief nod, confirming the
truth of LaCroix's statement.

      "Fine."  Yanking on her shoes, she gave up the pretense of
civility.  "Will you be going to the farewell party as well?  Or
should I just cancel that too?"

      "Farewell party?"  Both men asked in unison, their faces
mirroring surprise.

      "Yes, you know what those are, I hope?  It's on Saturday
night,  Grace is setting it up at the commissioner's ballroom.  Nick,
you need to go too.  These people have risked their lives for you.
You owe them that much."

      "When were you planning on telling me about this, my dear?"
LaCroix finished buttoning his collarless black shirt, and regarded
her with an arched brow.

      Natalie saw the rage that seethed just below that smooth
surface, hiding under a thin veneer of civilization.  Great, Nat,
you've done it this time, and he's really going to love what's next
in the curriculum.

      "I made the arrangements with Grace on Tuesday, before you
changed the original plan.  Saturday was my last day to say goodbye
to my friends and my mortality."  She paused, and looked straight
into his ice blue eyes.  "And, don't expect me to tell you
everything.  I refuse to be treated that way."

      "Nicholas,  start the car, we'll be down momentarily."

      Shooting an enigmatic look towards her, Nick left.  She
clenched her jaw, but, didn't back down from the glare her
new `master' sent her way.  So much for backup.

      "Listen well, Natalie, for if you ever forget or disobey, one
of your mortal friends dies.  Until you are trained,  you will tell
me everything, and under no circumstances are you to go out alone.
If I cannot accompany you, then Nicholas may.  Is that clear?"

      "Crystal, and if you EVER touch one of my mortal friends
because of something I did,  you'll regret it.  I'll destroy every
artifact you have of Rome.  You didn't keep that sword hanging above
your bed because it's pretty.  It has personal significance, and I
will melt it down into a cross."

      She paused, making sure that she had his full
attention.  "Never back me into a corner, LaCroix, because no matter
what you do, you'll lose.  If you kill my friends, you lose your
prized possessions.  If you kill me, you lose your one last shot at
love.  It's not worth the price."  Check and mate, she added silently.

      LaCroix turned on his heal, and strode to head of the bed.
With reverent fingers he stroked the bronze blade.  The far away look
on his face reminded her of Nick when he retreated to his
memories. "This belonged to my grandfather."  He whipped it from the
metal hanging and returned from her, every movement showing his
barely contained emotions.

      "Take it, Natalie.  Somewhere around here, I even have a
plaster casting of my daughter's hand from when she was five.  I
don't know if you can find something to make of that, perhaps you can
sell it to an antique dealer, or destroy them if you must.   My
possessions are nothing compared to your safety."

      He pressed the cold metal into her hand, closing her fingers
around it. "Cutting out your eyes was one of the hardest things I
have ever done.  If killing Detective Schanke will ensure you don't
put yourself at risk again, I will do it, and damn the consequences.
Take the sword, Doctor.  Do with it as you will."   She was left
holding the ancient sword, while he headed out the door.

      "Well, hell."  That had not gone according to plan.  While
Nick vehemently avowed his love, LaCroix offered it to her with his
sword and a heartbreaking plaster cast.  She hefted the metal, and
dimly noted the care he'd put into it over the millennia.  The gold
pommel was almost polished smooth,  ridges where once intertwining
laurel's rested, almost gone.  His fingers had long since worn their
own unique groove into the soft metal.

      Damn, you LaCroix, that was not fair. Sighing, she carefully
put the ancient relic back in it's resting place.

 End Chapter 12a