"Your favourite student? Yeah right, pal. What do you really want? Everyone knows that you can't stand me." This surprised him slightly. He had always tried to divide attention among his students equally. Equal amounts of praise and ridicule or so he thought. He sighed dramatically and put his hands to his heart. "You wound me to the quick, my dear!" Grinning slightly, he let his hands rest on the arm of the sofa and leaned forward. "I do not dislike you. On the contrary, I find you highly amusing to teach. Your drive to prove me wrong touches my hardened heart. You never will though."

  "Never will what?"

"You will never prove me wrong. Others have tried and it is near impossible." Well, wasn't he full of himself? Natasha thought. "But I know," he continued. "That you are already thinking of ways that you can aren't you?" Damn his eyes! Tasha thought to herself, amused that a Shakespearean reference came so
quickly to her mind. She would find a way. Come hell or high water she would eventually prove him wrong. He may be right now, but later he would be proved wrong. Her eyes gleamed in anticipation of battle. Tasha hoped that it didn't show too much as she ducked her head, trying to make a show of meekness. "Of
course not, sir. I am feeling tired still, so I'm not thinking properly."
   Cross believed that excuse about as much as he believed that cows could fly. Or was it pigs that flew? No matter. He saw the same shine in her eyes as he had seen in men spoiling for a fight or readying themselves for war. It was almost like a bloodlust but far more primal, the urge to prove one's merit. He picked up the gauntlet she had tossed so carelessly towards him. "Already back to 'sir' are we? Only a few minutes ago I was your 'pal.' Or did I hear incorrectly?"
   Natasha gritted her teeth. "You were not incorrect, *sir*. I was feeling ill earlier and that is the only excuse I have for my outburst. I am sorry."  She was surprised when he called her on the false apology. "You are not sorry, Miss Lambert. Very far from sorry by the look on your face. But forget that, it is time for you to go home and get some rest." He stood up fully and extended his hand to help her up from the couch.  Ignoring the offer, she braced her arms on the sofa and pushed up with her legs. Her body had the
strength to stand, and even walk a few feet, but longer distances were obviously out of the question. The sick, dizzy feeling that she hated so much was taking her over. All of the small, quiet sounds of a building asleep sounded as if it was coming through a cotton ball held to her ear. Muffled, like her vision was becoming. "I will not pass out." Natasha murmured under her breath, so quietly that a mouse sitting on her shoulder could not hear the words, but Cross did.
   Putting his arms around her waist, he helped her to the door. "Perhaps I should take you to the doctor after all. You are far from well." Natasha was going to protest but decided to save her breath for breathing. "Where are your keys?" She pointed to her purse, still sitting on the couch. He handed it to her and then picked up her slight form, heading for the door. "Let me down I can walk prefe---perfektally fine." Every thing was becoming so dim! There was a dazed look in her eyes as she cut off in the middle of a sentence. Cross shook his head, she was worse than he suspected. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw that it was roughly five hours till dawn. Plenty of time for him to drive her to the hospital and still make it home.
This had built up for more than a week, he was sure of it. She must have been pushing herself for a month or more to be this weak. It was obvious that the girl had courage, stamina, and perseverance to make it for so long on practically nothing. Admirable traits, but like the stubbornness he also admired, it could be taken too far at times. Cross snorted softly in reply to Tasha's ridiculous comment and kept going towards the parking lot and her car.

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

  "Diabetes, Miss Lambert."

  "Diabetes?" Natasha echoed. That meant needles and so many things that she would never be able to do. The doctor cleared his throat and she lifted her head up to look at him. "However, it is only borderline. In other words, you can control it with diet and exercise. If you take proper care of yourself, you may never have to take insulin injections. We are going to prescribe you some pills to take. Vitamins of course, and something to keep your blood sugar regular until you recover fully." The doctor shook his head slightly.  She was very young still, and to have developed diabetes from stress.... so sad. But college students did this to themselves every year. It was no different now. The high amounts of caffeine in her system didn't help things
either. The tox screen had come back from the lab an hour ago, bearing mute witness to the abuse this poor girl had put herself through to get ahead in her studies. But, he remembered medical school very well. It was a constant struggle not to be left behind. "When you are able to prove you can control this through healthy habits we will see about taking you off of the pills. The nurse should be here in a few minutes to tell you what you need to eat and what you need to avoid."
  Natasha angered at this. She was a medical student, almost finished with her training. She was going into her residency next term! And she didn't know proper nutrition? Natalie swallowed the growing irritation and nodded towards the doctor.

    After the nurse had finished instructing her in the fine points of diet and exercise, Natasha grabbed her purse and headed toward the exit of the hospital. Getting into her car, Tasha clunked her head on the steering wheel and let out a sigh. Why did this have to happen to her? She was a good student, right? Always trying to learn faster, excel in everything she put a hand to, be the best she could be. And now she had diabetes. Diet and exercise, she just had to keep that in mind. As tempting as it might be to use the disease as an excuse to rest, she couldn't possibly do that. Too much left to be done. Professor Cross might not like it, but that was too bad.
  Cranking the starter up and putting the car into reverse, Natasha backed out of the parking spot and headed back to her dorm.

            ******************

    "Natasha! I'm so glad you are all right! One of your professors stopped by and told me that you were sick and couldn't go to your classes for a while." Tasha groaned at the welcoming message received from her roommate, Josephine.
  "I'm not that sick, Josie. I'll be fine, and I am planning on going to my classes as scheduled." Tasha rubbed her eyes, her vision was fuzzy for some reason or another. Josie pulled at her arm and she reluctantly followed the larger girl to her bed. Pushing Natasha backwards till her calves bumped the bed, Josie knelt down and removed Tasha's shoes. "Now you just get in bed. I don't want to hear it, not one word from you. I'm going to heat up some soup and you are going to eat it." Picking up the comforter, Josie wrapped Natasha snugly in it like a spider would spin a cocoon around a fly. Perhaps a little too snug. "You will sleep in my bed tonight because yours is full of books. I'll clean it off after my morning class." Natasha looked towards the other side of the room and noticed, perhaps for the first time, that her bed was anything but inhabitable. Yet she knew that she must have slept somewhere.. where did she.... oh. Then she saw the desk in the corner with her fuzzy bear and pillow on top of it. Maybe she had been working too hard on schoolwork. Maybe a break was in order after all.
    The soup arrived. Chicken noodle, how did she know that it would be chicken noodle. Josie was prattling on and on about nothing. "I heard that chicken noodle soup has chemicals in it that fight infection and general sickness. It is really good for you, so eat up!" She started to smooth the covers and fluff the pillows behind Tasha's back. Setting the small tray on her lap, she prepared to leave when Natasha put her hand out and grabbed Josie's arm.
   "Josie, maybe you are right. I do need a break. Thanks for taking care of me so well." The girl blushed as a huge smile lit up her face. "You are welcome, Natasha. I'm just glad that you are ok. I hope that you feel better soon." Tasha smiled a little bit and took a bite of the soup, it was good. Nice and hot on her parched throat. As Josie turned to leave once more, Tasha called to her. "Josie, do you think you could grab my teddy bear?"

                     **********************************************
 
    The class seemed lonely without the fiery Miss Lambert in attendance. Since she had not shown up to any of her other classes, Cross correctly assumed that she had taken his 'advice' and rested peacefully in her dorm room. It had been four days so far. What was she doing right now, he wondered silently to himself. Suddenly, he slammed the book he was reading on his desk. What foolishness! The girl was only a student of his, and a difficult one at that. Who cares when she is back as long as she is not sick when she
does so. But why did it matter if she was sick or well? She could die and he wouldn't care. A small part of him cringed at that thought and he realized that he *did* care. To see that flame burn out so quickly... it would be such a shame. A part of the fire that kept her alive also touched him. It heated the cold space around a heart which had long ago turned to stone to resist breaking into pieces. Lucien remembered another sacred flame that had burned out too early.
   Deciding that he had had enough, the professor pushed the chair back from his desk and strolled out of the office with one destination in mind.

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

           Someone was knocking on the door. Glancing at the clock, Natasha saw that it was after midnight. Who on earth would be calling at such an hour? Maybe Josie had lost her key or something. Grumbling, Tasha threw on a robe and shouted out that she would be just a second.
  Opening the door, she was surprised to see her professor standing in the hallway carrying a box under one arm. "May I come in, Miss Lambert?" Momentarily taken aback, she only nodded and stepped aside for the tall man to pass.

 "Professor Cross, what are you doing here so late? And how on Earth did you get in here?"
      Lucien ignored the last question, there was no reason for the girl to know exactly how he had gained access to her dorm room, the night guard certainly wouldn't remember his visit. He glanced at the box in his hands before presenting it to Natasha. "I simply came by to give you this. I believe that you discovered a passion in Shakespeare while researching your project, so I decided that you might like to have a little piece of the history. The report you did far exceeded my expectations and I thought you might appreciate a small token to remember it by." Cross realized he was as close to babbling as he ever got. He didn't know quite what to say to the young woman, perhaps he was hoping that she would remember him too?
  Tasha looked down at the box blankly. A present? "Uh, would you like a seat, Professor? Perhaps something to drink?"
  "Yes, a seat would be nice, thank you." He set himself on the chair she had indicated. "And please, call me Lucien," *Call me Lucien?* He had never let another student take that familiarity with him before. Why was he letting her call him by his given name? Actually asking for her to do so. To think of it, no one had called him Lucien in a very long time. Not even his wayward children addressed him that way.
   Natasha sat in a chair opposite from him as she opened the box. Inside lay an original manuscript for Shakespeare's Sonnets, signed by The Bard himself. Tasha was flabbergasted, what could she possibly say? In her own two hands lay a book that was touched by Shakespeare, not to mention that it was
incredibly old. "Pro--" Tasha corrected herself. "Lucien, I--I don't know what to say. It is wonderful, but why did you give this to me? It must have cost a fortune."
   Lucien waved her comment about money away. "It was a part of my personal collection. I have had it for many years and never read it anymore. I thought that you might appreciate it more." He gently took the book from her hand and flipped to a certain page that had been very well worn over the years. Clearing his throat, he started to recite.

 "Let not the marriage of true minds admit impediments.
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O, no!
It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown,
Although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool,
Though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

  Tasha sat back and listened as he read the words off the page. The syllables seemed to flow from his throat to her ear like honey gently poured over the dips and crevasses of that shell-like appendage. "Your voice..." She trailed off for a moment before continuing. "You should have been a DJ. Your voice is so soothing and gentle. I can see you as an actor onstage. Were you in dramatics when you were younger?"
  Lucien sighed and closed the book, handing it back to her. "No, I was not an actor. However, I used to read aloud to my children for their pleasure. It was mine too, I enjoyed the evenings that were spent by the fire with them. Unfortunately, they went their separate ways long ago."

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

  Natasha looked at the professor and saw for the first time that he was very lonely. Sympathy stirred her heart and she reached out a hand to him. "I'm sorry. You must miss them terribly." Lucien left his memories behind as he looked at the warm fingers gently pressing his knee. He set his own hand on top of hers and nodded. "Yes, I miss them very much. However, I know at least that they are out in the world somewhere. I can feel them and that brings me comfort."
   Looking out into empty space, he let his mind drift and unconsciously massaged the hand that he held in his own, his thumb rubbing in circles over Tasha's delicate fingers and her palm. She started to feel the first
stirrings of something more for this strange professor and quickly squashed it. There was no room for romance in her life now, especially not with a teacher who was at least 45 if he was a day. But, as much as logic was peaking it's ugly head into her thoughts, she could not bring herself to remove her hand from his cool grasp. A distraction.
  "Lucien, would you like something warm to drink perhaps? It is very cold outside and your hand is freezing."

Realizing that he had stayed longer than originally intended, Lucien rose from his chair. "No, I must go my dear. I didn't expect to stay as long as I have and you must be tired. You need your rest if you are to return to your classes on Monday." Tasha started to rise but he stopped her. "There is no need. I can see my way out. Thank you for your generous hospitality. I look forward to seeing you in class on Tuesday night." Before he thought about what he did, he planted a small kiss on her hand and was out the door before
she could blink.

But blink she did. Tasha sat there for a full minute afterwards, confused as to what exactly had happened. If the book had not still been in her hands, she would have thought the entire visit to be a hallucination. Shrugging her shoulders in acceptance, Natasha put the book in the top drawer of her desk and headed back to bed.

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

   Driving home from Natasha's housing unit, Lucien wondered yet again what it was that drew him to this student. The feelings stirring inside him were hardly professional. Emotion, like a foreign object that had lodged deep in his throat, cut off his breath and choked his voice. Only fools fell in love. Love? Where had that distasteful word come from? Perhaps still feeling sentimental from reviewing the sonnet which had always reminded him of his lost flower.
   Gentle Fleur -- so much like her brother in the search for adventure. And yet, she had the innocence and faith that Nicholas lost during the Crusades. Those long battles, being in constant danger, the pointless hacking and slashing of 'foreign invaders'. Muslim families who had lived in the holy land longer than the men going to fight them had been Christians.
  Lucien often reflected on such tragedy. It seemed to him that finding the irony in any difficult situation somehow made it that much easier to bear. Many thought that this made him sadistic or perhaps inhuman. He smiled slightly in a sarcastic way. That is what he was, inhuman. If he concentrated very hard, he could faintly recall what it was like to be mortal. Fear of death by disease. That is what had frightened him the most. Any other foe could be met on the field of battle, but the silent enemy that swept over throngs of struggling humanity and embraced them all in his terribly silent grip... he couldn't be fought against in a honourable way. Decay and disease turned even the most powerful soldier to a quivering mass of flesh that had as much use as a cockroach.
    Natasha must be feeling the same way now. She had been diagnosed with some illness that was quite permanent. She was so young, fresh, innocent. All of her short life was yawning before her, and Lucien felt certain that Natasha would rise up to meet each hill and valley with courage, bashing the sword of her intellect against the shield of adaptability, scattering all enemies. Because after all, only a fool would insist on troubling one who was obviously so strong and sure of herself.

     Maybe he was that fool.

  Interfering in Natasha's life further would be pointless and damaging to her well-being. Lucien didn't seem to think it could hurt him as well. The thought was as ridiculous as the emotion that bubbled up and kept him from seeing the road as anything but a red-tinged, blurry river of asphalt.

                            ***************************************
 
   "What are you thinking about?" Natalie's steady voice woke him from the reverie that had firmly taken hold. Lucien started slightly. "I was merely thinking about how we first met, my dear."
  "Ah," Natalie nodded. "I feel as if that were decades ago instead of the four years it has been." She nestled her head further into his chest. "I regret that I must leave you now, Tasha. I have a pressing engagement
tonight. But, I will be back tomorrow and we can do whatever you wish to do."
  Natalie sighed in acceptance and looked up into his icy blue eyes. "No one else calls me Tasha anymore. Not even Richie, and I don't talk to that many of my old classmates these days. I feel like I am Tasha to you and to everyone else I am Natalie Lambert, doctor." Lucien leaned down to give her a short peck on the lips. "You will always be Tasha to me. No matter how many others call you Doctor." His thumb gently circled her cheek for a moment before he left the room as silently as he had first appeared.

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

        "She will die."

    Lucien heard these words and a slow panic started to envelop his senses. Slowly, he regained control so that he could show this Elder the proper respect. It wouldn't due to anger him. "Why should she die? She has done nothing to endanger the community. I have followed the rules, I plan to bring her across when she is ready." The Enforcer merely smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant, warm smile. It was colder than a three-day old corpse. "But, she has expressed that she isn't ready to be brought across yet. Maybe not for several years. That is too long for us to wait. We cannot afford to take the risk that she might tell someone. She does nothing for us other than give us reason to be concerned."
   Lucien didn't know what to do. But he played his only card, hoping that it would save her life. "I will explain the situation to her, ask her if she would be brought across now. If she refuses, then I will make it to where she does not remember either me or the community." The Enforcer sitting across from him leaned back in his chair and thought this over. The silence was thick and hung in the air like the smoke from the Enforcer's cigarette. Quietly, he reached back across the table and stamped the butt out in the
ashtray.
  "That seems to be a beneficial agreement for us both." Smoke poured from his mouth as he spoke, the red of his eyes glowed dully behind the screen, making him seem like the giant statue of Ba'al, in whose great arms the fate of Natalie Lambert rested. "You do understand, of course, that if she were to remember we would be forced to intervene, and--" the Enforcer paused here, "we will not be so kind." He raised his hands slightly in a gesture as if to say, 'you know what would come next. No need for me to elaborate.'
  However, Lucien saw this as the great statue raising it's arms, sending the petite form of his Tasha hurtling into the fiery depths of the furnace belly belonging to the forgotten god. Her screams for him echoed in his mind and he closed his eyes. Children burning and screaming. He would never forget the tinny sounds that the limbs of those children made as they banged down the metal throat of Ba'al and into the great fire which roared beneath. In his long life, he had witnessed many wrongdoings in the name of a higher power. She would not be one of those casualties. Even if she were to become a vampire, she would have a master, and Natasha is no man's slave. The passion which burned within her would slowly transform to dull remembered embers.

"She will not remember."

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

         Natalie sighed in contentment as she crawled under the covers of her bed. She heard the ripping sound of her kitten climbing up the comforter and into her bed. "Sidney, come here baby." The tiny kitten looked at the new, higher surroundings, and stumbled on soft paws toward his mistress. Natalie remembered when Lucien had bought him for her. Sidney's head had looked so large in comparison to his little body, and the kitten had literally fallen over. She had dragged Lucien into the pet shop and he bought her the precious bundle. That had been three weeks ago and the kitten had grown a good bit since then.
   Sidney hopped up confidently onto her chest and circled, kneading here and there before curling his tail around his nose and settling down. The contented purrs coming from the little gray and white bundle were as loud as a car engine next to Natalie's ear.
     Soon enough, Natalie was asleep. This is what Lucien had been waiting for, he crept from behind the door where he had been hiding and sat on the bed next to Natalie. Sidney opened one eye, but not finding a threat, he closed it and went back to sleep. How long he sat there, simply watching her, he couldn't say. But soon the sky outside of the window started to lighten and Lucien knew that he could delay it no longer.
    "Natasha, wake up." This he said in a quiet voice so that she would remain partially asleep. "Wha--? Lucien?" She started to rise up but he stopped her. "What are you doing here?" Lucien silenced her with a gentle finger to the lips. "Shhh... you must remain quiet, my love."

  "Why are you crying? What is wrong, Lucien?" Natalie was too tired to register much else in her mind. "Just be quiet, and if you remember nothing else, remember that you were loved by someone. Loved so much that they could think of no words to express their pain at parting from you." Lucien found her heartbeat and locked his eyes onto hers. "There will be no pain, my Tasha. No pain. You do not know who I am, you will never remember who I am. There is no such thing as vampires. You will go on, be happy and content, find another love. You never loved Lucien LaCroix."
  He shuddered as he finished feeding Natalie those horrible lies. Pulling her into a quick embrace, his tear splashed onto her cheek. Lucien didn't stop to look, but dashed out of the window and into the waning night. He would be lucky to make it home before first light. Maybe he didn't care.
   The tear he shed lay on Natalie's cheek, gleaming like fresh dew. It was crystal clear as was the window that let in the last beams of a dying moon, and reflected also the coming dawn. Silver and gold warred with each other in that tiny drop. This was Lucien's human reaction to the deep pain he felt at, once again, leaving his love in the light and continuing on in the darkness.
  She had taught him how to laugh and how to cry. To feel everything around him as if it was the first time. Seeing everything through her eyes was like magic, a magic which had been forgotten. Never again, he wouldn't forget her. But to survive.. that required pushing her sweet warmth aside and returning to the dark, safe place in which he burrowed like a worm seeking the dank earth. The hardness he had so often counted on to save him crept back and turned his heart to cold stone.

The End