No offense is intended to any hospital in Toronto (or anywhere else for that matter). Some clichés are just too good to ignore.If readers think that they see a little reference to a wonderful story to be found in the Nick/Nat section of Jadfe, they are correct--it's a tribute.

Nick, Nat, and a couple of others mentioned here are the property of TPTB. The story is © to me.

A Time to Heal
By Mary Combs

Chapter 1

She couldn't move. She couldn't feel anything. Her entire body was numb -- or gone. Faint patterns of light moved across her vision, but try as she might she could not open her eyes. Had she forgotten how?

She *could* hear. She tried to concentrate, to decipher the noises surrounding her.

There was a very faint but regular whispering sound. It was so faint that she tried holding her breath to hear better -- It stopped. At last, she realized it was the sound of her own breathing.

To her right, there was the erratic rustling of fabric .... Someone moving around the room? No. Curtains on an open window? The light *was* a bit brighter in that direction. She caught the noise of distant traffic.... There was a rushing sound, a slight metallic clatter -- of blinds or shutters? -- and she felt a brush of air across her face, bringing with it a whiff of the outdoors. A window then.

She was beginning to be aware of her body. She was still paralyzed, but she could feel her feet and hands, the pillow under her head, the tickle of a lock of hair against her neck, the slight weight of the sheet and blanket over her. There was a dull ache in the back of her left hand, a sense of something tight pulling against her skin. She felt the smooth texture of the sheet beneath her fingers. She focused all her energy on her left hand, and felt the tip of one finger slide an infinitesimal distance along the surface of the linen.

She tried to wiggle her toes. Nothing.

She tried to move her right hand, but there was no response. It seemed to be pinned beneath something. No pain; no sharp edges; no sensation of being crushed. Whatever the weight was, it was soft -- and warm. In fact, her right hand was the only part of her that felt warm.

She breathed in as deeply as she could. Roses. Antiseptic. Freshly ironed bed linen. Roses. Coffee. Peanut butter..... Peanut butter?

Other sounds entered her awareness. The ding of an elevator, the muffled sound of a paging system.

A hospital. She was in a hospital. The pain in her left arm was probably from an IV. She couldn't move because.... because.....

Why? What had happened? A car accident? A sudden wave of panic swept through her and she fought it back. *You can feel your extremities. You can move a finger. Lambert, you do not have a broken neck. You would be trussed up like a Christmas goose and a nurse would have been here the moment your heart rate went up. Get a grip.*

But there was definitely something wrong with her right arm.

If it was still there.

With every ounce of her strength she concentrated on opening her eyes. When she succeeded, deep crimson filled her field of vision. The world was red, dark, velvety red. She blinked and focused, breathing deeply, and the image clicked into place.

Roses. Masses of red, red roses. They were piled on the bureau and on the table at the foot of her bed.

She looked down to where her arm should be, and there was a glaring blur. She winced and squeezed her eyes tight shut, then carefully opened them just enough so she could peer out beneath her eyelashes. The whiteness faded a bit and resolved itself into bright gold. She fought down another wave of panic as she waited for her brain to made sense of what she was seeing. It was sunlight, of course, sunlight coming through the window, sunlight reflecting off of....

Nick's hair.

He was deeply asleep, his head pillowed on their joined hands. She could feel the grip of his fingers now, the soft pressure of his cheek, the whisper of his slow, steady breath against her forearm....*Oh dear God, his breath is warm...*

And suddenly memory came flooding back...... Last night.....

She wanted to cry out and weep and laugh all at the same time, and she couldn't even produce a decent sigh. So she resorted to staring at him as hard as she could, willing him to wake up.

It worked.

He stirred and lifted his head, looking toward the window, blinking owlishly in the sunlight. There was sleep in the corner of his eyes, one cheek was redder than the other and his hair was damp where his head had lain against her hand. He yawned and rubbed his hands through his already tousled hair.

Looking at him through the veil of her eyelashes, Nat squinted just slightly to bring him a bit out of focus and smiled. Barring the stubble on his chin, he looked about 9 years old.

He glanced at his watch, yawned again, and then did something that melted her heart. With unselfconscious ease, he made the Sign of the Cross, folded his hands and bent his head in prayer for a moment, crossed himself again, sighed and, finally, looked up at her.

He flew out of the chair, sending it toppling over behind him, but stopped short of embracing her, only an inch or two away. "Nat." he whispered, delicately caressing her face with his fingertips, as if he were afraid she would shatter under his hands. "Oh Nat."

He closed the distance between them slowly, gently, brushing his lips against her forehead with the lightest possible touch. "Thank God." He pulled back and looked searchingly at her, his eyes filled with wonder and happiness-- and apprehension.

She shaped the words silently, "I love you." A smile of utter joy swept the worry from his face, and, very gently, he gathered her into his arms. Holding her close, he whispered into her hair, "I love you too.... Mon coeur, mon âme, ma vie, I love you too."

Nick caught his breath with a sob, and when she pressed her cheek weakly against his, she felt the hot wetness of his tears. "Oh Nat, I'm so sorry..."

If she had had the strength she would have hugged him fiercely -- or aimed a punch at him -- but her body was still not cooperating, so she did the only thing she could. She whispered "Shhhhhh..." and kissed his cheek, over and over again. Tiny feeble little touches, like a baby's first kisses, but it got his attention, which was the main idea. And when he pulled back to look at her, she glared at him as fiercely as she could, willing him to know that he must not blame himself.

He picked up her right hand -- which still wasn't cooperating very well-- and pressed it to his lips, then cradled it in his own.

"See what you've done for me. There *was* a miracle Nat....

"Your heart," she whispered, feebly squeezing his fingers. Understanding instantly, he kissed her palm, then held it against his chest. She frowned, trying to sense his heartbeat through the cotton fabric -- and then smiled as, without hesitation, Nick unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hand inside. She closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of life, the rise and fall of his breathing, the smooth warmth of his skin, the feathery touch of the hair on his chest beneath her fingertips.

"*You're* my heart, Nat. My life." he said simply. She opened her eyes to see him looking down at their hands, gently stroking the back of hers with his thumb..... "During those first few hours, they asked me if I wanted to donate blood. Turned out I was a perfect match. Everyone said, 'What a wonderful coincidence.' Only I knew, it wasn't coincidence at all." He looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears. "You're part of me now."

"We're part of each other, now." She made a face at the sound of her voice, a very unromantic croak. Nick laughed and kissed her lightly.

"Do you want some water, Nat? Something to eat? Are you warm enough?"

"Water sounds good." His hands shook slightly as he poured from the carafe on the bedside table. "No, Nick, I hate those things," she said when he reached for an angled straw, "Just help me hold it." She drank slowly and deeply, secretly delighting in the warmth of his hands, still faintly trembling, over hers.

"Thanks. That was good." Her voice was beginning to sound normal. She settled back on her pillow and took a good look at Nick.

He was wearing a white cotton shirt (still unbuttoned) with the sleeves rolled up, jeans and a belt with a silver buckle she knew was from the real Old West. A lightweight leather jacket hung over the back of the chair. The breeze from the open window ruffled his hair. As cute as he was, staring at her with adoration in his eyes, he badly needed a haircut.

Her eyes narrowed. "Nick?"

"Yes?"

"How long?"

His smile faded, and he reached over and gently brushed her hair away from her face.

"Two months," he said softly.

Her eyes widened. "Two...?" He nodded.

"I died, didn't I?" She felt oddly detached when she said it, as if she were saying, "I went to Montreal...."

"Yes," he whispered. "Twice." He was suddenly very still, his face grave. "Nat... Do you.... do you remember what happened?" His voice trembled.

"Yes." she nodded, speaking very calmly, meeting his eyes. "I asked you to make love to me. You kissed me. You took too much." She closed her eyes and frowned slightly. "LaCroix came. You told him you couldn't bring me across. After that....." She shook her head and grimaced. "It makes me dizzy to remember."

"Then don't worry about it, now. But...." he sighed. "We will have to talk about it later, Nat." It was as much a promise as a warning.

She looked around the room, smiling at the roses, the plate bearing the remnants of Nick's half-eaten lunch -- that's where the smell of peanut butter had come from -- a pile of books on the bedside table, a tote bag under his chair with a shaving kit poking out of it. She looked back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," he grinned sheepishly, "well, I've been hanging around here a lot. The nurses cut me a little slack." He looked suddenly guilty. "In fact, I'd better let them know you're awake." He stood up. "I definitely don't want to get on the wrong side of Mrs. Lubinsky. She's about 5 foot 1, but I'm quite sure she could throw me out that window if I got on her wrong side. And I have to be careful about that sort of thing now." He gave her an impish grin and turned for the door. Then he stopped and stood with his back to her.

"Uh, Nat." his voice was suddenly shy. "Speaking of the nurses, there's something I should tell you." He took a deep breath and came back and sat down on the edge of her bed, but didn't look up. He took her right hand and held it in his left, gently stroking it with his thumb, still not meeting her eyes.

"I, well, they are pretty strict about visiting hours around here," he said awkwardly. "And I couldn't use the hypnosis thing anymore so..." Even with his head tilted down, she could see the color rising into his cheeks. He took another deep breath, and set his shoulders. "I told them I was your fiancé." At last he looked up. She wanted to laugh and cry all at once, his face was such a combination of worried little boy and grown man full of hope and desire .....

"Are you asking me to make an honest man out of you?"

He sighed with relief at the laughter in her voice and beamed at her, then cast a dubious glance at the floor. "I suppose I ought to kneel down for this, but if I did you'd only see the top of my head." He stared at her, then made a face. "I had a speech all prepared, but it's vanished.. My memory isn't what it used to be." He laughed softly. "I remember the part that matters."

"Natalie Lambert, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?"

She was tempted to tease him a little, but rejected the idea as soon as it took shape. There would be plenty of time for that later.

"Nicholas de Brabant, I love you with all my heart. Yes, I will marry you." He kissed her palm, then leaned across the bed and kissed the fourth finger of her left hand. "That will have to do for now, until we have your ring." Then he gently captured her lips.

"I won't break, you know," she laughed against his mouth. He chuckled and wrapped his arms tight about her, and the kiss deepened until it became a promise of joys to come.

"Ahem." Mrs. Lubinsky -- it could only be she -- stood by the bed, gazing sternly at the lovers. Nick snapped to attention like an ensign confronting an admiral -- or a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"She's awake!" he said, unnecessarily, gesturing toward Nat.

"So I see." Mrs. Lubinsky raised an eyebrow and stared pointedly at Nick's open shirt. He blushed and buttoned it up as she turned to her patient.

Mrs. Lubinsky was somewhere in her mid-50s, with iron gray hair and eyes so dark they were almost black. She had that authoritative presence that makes it possible for diminutive women to command the respect of powerful men and masses of small boys. Despite the forbidding exterior, Natalie thought she caught sight of a twinkle in those dark eyes, and her impression was confirmed when Mrs. Lubinsky gave her a slow wink before turning to shoo Nick out of the room.

"Go home, detective. We have a lot to do here. Go home, take a shower, shave, change your clothes, get a decent meal, get some sleep -- and while you're at it, get a haircut. I don't want to see you back here before 6 o'clock. Out. Now."

"Yes ma'am," Nick said weakly, blowing Nat a kiss and beating a hasty retreat.

He was oblivious to his surroundings, unaware of the smiles he provoked as he made his way down the hall and to the elevator, humming under his breath, radiating happiness. He felt as if he were walking on air.

When he stepped out the front door, without thinking, he did a little victory spin, prompting a round of applause from patients and staff enjoying the spring sunshine. Nick stopped and made an elaborate bow to his audience, then continued on to the caddy, cheeks slightly pink.

Chapter 2

At 6 on the dot, he cautiously stuck his head around the door of Nat's room. "May I come in?" Mrs. Lubinsky beckoned him forward and conducted a mock inspection. "All present and correct, ma'am?"

With a brisk nod, she accepted Nick's salute (and one of the flowers from the bouquet he was carrying) and left, shutting the door behind her.

"Mmmmmmmm, you smell good -- and feel good," Nat said rubbing her cheek against Nick's freshly shaved one.

"The sentiment is mutual, my lady."

"Nick, you really shouldn't be bringing me more flowers. It's extravagant."

"But these aren't from me," he said innocently. "They're from Sydney. See, there's a card and everything." He offered her a square of white cardboard with a pawprint in the center.

*Oh boy, Lambert, you really are in for it.* Natalie thought, as his wide-eyed expression melted into an impish grin. This was a side of Nick that had all but vanished when Don Schanke died, and she had a feeling she was going to be seeing a lot more it. *Schank, I think you're going to be proud of him.*

"So what have you been up to?" Nick asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I've been washed and fed, and I've been poked and prodded and examined from head to toe at least twice. How about you?"

"Ditto on the washing and feeding -- plus the shave and a haircut. And I burned up the phone lines spreading the good news. If you think *this* is a lot of flowers, wait until tomorrow."

"Speaking of burning, how are your ears?" she asked.

"My ears?" he asked, fingering one speculatively. "Oh. Were you and Mrs. L talking about me?"

"Oh yes. She's been filling me in."

"Oh."

"You've been here every day."

"Uh-huh."

"*Every* day. For two months. She says, you practically live here. Here, and in the hospital chapel," Nat amended.

"Home is where the heart is," he said quietly.

"Nick, did Reese give you a leave of absence?"

"No, he just wished me luck."

"Luck?"

"I resigned Nat. No, don't look like that. It was the right thing to do." He stared past her for a moment. "It made IA happy. It made Commissioner Vetter happy -- or at least, it gave him what he needed. And it means I won't get anyone else hurt."

He met her eyes again. "For 800 years, I haven't had to worry about anything but sunlight and sharp sticks -- and one mutated virus. No matter how much I might want to stay with the work, it would only have been a matter of time before I made a mistake." He smiled at her wistfully. "As it is, I think you're going to spend a good part of the next 50 years saying 'Watch out Nick!' and patching me up."

"We'll buy first-aid kits by the dozen."

He laughed and brushed his hand through her hair. "It's a good thing I have you to look after me."

"What did you say?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"I said, it's a good thing I have you to look after me." She was looking past him, eyes slightly out of focus. "Nat? Nat, can you hear me...?" She turned to look at him, her eyes still distant. "I thought zoning out was my territory. Are you okay?" He looked worried.

"I'm fine, it's just.... I thought I remembered.... something."

"Something about... that night?"

"Or.... after. I can't shake the feeling I've forgotten something I was supposed to remember, something I was supposed to do." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "It's like trying to see through fog."

Nick took her hand and kissed her palm before cradling it in his own. He took a deep breath. "Nat, do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know where to start."

"Wherever you want to." His voice was soft and tender but filled with pain. This would be an ordeal for both of them.

When she spoke, her voice was calm, as if repeating an old, familiar story. She told him of things he already knew, retracing that long, dreadful day from the shock of Lora's death to the sweet ecstasy of the moment when she had felt her life flowing into him. He knew all of it, anyway, because he'd been there and from her blood, but there was something important in the telling, in saying it all aloud.

And there were things he did not know.

"I thought I understood what you were fighting, Nick. But I didn't really. Not even after the exorcism. No one could imagine such pain." He looked up at her, clearly surprised. He had expected her to say "evil."

She nodded, acknowledging his unspoken question. "Oh yes, I felt the darkness, too, the beast, growing stronger, fighting back against us, against our love. Pulling you down and back through time. Repeating all the dark and violent promises." She slipped her hand from his and caressed his stricken face. "I felt you holding onto me for dear life, and I knew without doubt how much you loved me." Speechless, he turned his head and pressed his lips into her palm.

She looked a little away from him, at the roses on the dresser, and frowned slightly. "I remember hearing LaCroix' voice, but I couldn't move or open my eyes. I heard you say 'I can't condemn her to this darkness,' and I felt it when you kissed me. And then....." She was silent for a long time. Nick wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and waited patiently.

When she spoke again, her voice was faint and almost dreamy. "Did I imagine what I saw because of what you told me? I suppose I'll never know. Or at least, not until I really do die...."

"It was just the way you described it. The desert, the lake, the doorway, the light, the guide. He opened the door and held out his hand." She sighed. "I could feel everything in me yearning toward the light. But I had to know... about you......"

"He told me you had your wish. That you were mortal again. I laughed and I cried for joy.... and I begged to come back. He simply smiled and shook his head, and beckoned me through the door. Then....... someone else was there."

"I don't know where she came from, Nick -- whether she stepped through the door somehow or came from behind me. I could see her face more clearly than the guide's, but I didn't recognize her." Nat closed her eyes and shook her head. "This is the part that's still blurred. I was certain that she was there to help me. I can't remember what she said, but I knew we'd won when the guide nodded and smiled at me -- and stepped back into the light."

"The woman put her hands on my shoulders and kissed me on the forehead, and then she turned and followed him. The door began to close, and as it did, the desert faded around me, not into darkness but into a different kind of light. And I woke up in the emergency room."

"It was awful -- as if I were being torn apart by the glare and noise. Everything hurt. Just being alive hurt. After I while, I felt myself falling, and I was back on the sand, by the lake. But there was no door this time, and no guide. Only the woman. She asked me to do something...I think she gave me something.... but I can't remember what it was. She took hold of my shoulders and pushed me gently backwards. I fell onto the gurney in the ER...."

"Then they let you come in." She smiled at him, a smile full of warmth and peace. "And I knew everything was going to be all right."

Nick leaned forward to kiss her, but was forestalled by a brisk knock at the door and the appearance of Mrs. Lubinsky and her minions. Natalie looked at the array of syringes and vessels on one tray and groaned. "Don't tell me you want more samples of my blood?"

"Among other things..." Mrs. L patted Nick on the shoulder. "Go get yourself some dinner. If Doctor Lambert cooperates" she glared pointedly at Nat, "you can come back and sit with her while she eats. If not......" Nick leapt to his feet and sketched a quick salute, gave Nat a peck on the cheek (whispering, with a French accent, "Courage!") and headed out to meet his fate in the hospital cafeteria.

Half an hour later, he returned to find Natalie staring dismally at a tray full of food. "Hi." He kissed her lightly on the top of her head.

"Hi. How was your dinner?"

"Not bad. Whatever you want to say about the basic product, they do have a really superb brand of ketchup downstairs."

"You didn't happen to bring any with you?" she asked hopefully.

"No," he laughed. "That bad?"

"Nick, I can't figure out what some of it is. And I *have* to eat it." She lifted her left hand and waved it about. "See? Freedom. But if I don't eat -- and drink -- enough, the IV goes back in."

"Well, the first thing to do is identify the problem." He bent over her meal and, slipping into a Scots accent, began a hilarious impression of an archaeologist analyzing the contents. He started with the meatloaf, proposing a mythical creature as the source, feeding her bits and pieces as he regaled her with the fantastical provenance of the dull fare.

*He would make the most enchanting father. No,* she corrected herself with a little shiver of anticipation. *He will make the most enchanting father. A little too easy, maybe. I'll have to be sure he doesn't spoil them. Especially the girls....* Her reverie was interrupted by Nick's voice......

"Nat, what were you thinking about?"

"Never mind. Or at least.... Ask me again on our 25th wedding anniversary, okay?"

"It's a deal." He slid the tray table down to the foot of her bed and leaned in for a long, sweet kiss. He came up licking his lips. "Hmm. Definitely needs ketchup." He sat down on the edge of the bed. and his face grew serious. "Now, where were we?"

She nodded. "Your turn." She could see how hard this was for him. He made no attempt to conceal it. That one night had stripped them of all their defenses.

"Nick, take your shoes off."

"What?" He shook his head, bewildered.

"Take your shoes off and c'mere." She patted the bed beside her. He did as she said, and carefully slid onto the bed beside her, turning on his side. He lifted her left hand and kissed the place where the IV had been, then rested his left arm and hand on hers, laid lightly across her waist. Nat pressed the switch on her control and the room fell into near darkness.

They lay together in silence for a while.

"I'd forgotten what real darkness was like," he said at last. "I knew I'd lost the sun, I never realized I'd lost the night as well." She simply stroked the back of his hand where it lay at her waist, and waited.

And slowly, in the blessed dark, he told her. How she had touched him as no one ever had. How her bright soul had called to his wounded one. How her belief in him had frustrated and inspired him. How her life force had called to the vampire as no other. How he had been overwhelmed by the love he tasted in her blood. The horror, realizing he had taken too much. His decision to end the vampire's existence and cast himself on the mercy of Heaven.

How LaCroix had sensed his return to mortality, when he himself had been too filled with grief to know.

There was silence for a while, and even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was reliving the moment. "What did he do?"

Nick pressed her fingertips to his lips and then drew her open hand along his jaw to the pulse point in his neck. She felt two faint but unmistakable scars.

"He tried to bring you back across...." Her voice was filled with horror. "Nick, what stopped him?"

"He knew, with the first taste of my blood, that it wouldn't work, that I wouldn't come. He knew I would step into the light, even with.... even with your blood still warm on my hands." He sighed. "So, he left, with only two words. 'She lives.'"

He told her about the desperate ride to the hospital, his overwhelming joy when she had recognized him in the emergency room, the descent into darkness and uncertainty as she faded into a coma. The weeks of waiting.....

"Only this time, Nat, I didn't feel alone in the dark. I finally realized that I never was alone. I thought when I'd turned my back on God he had let me go. Now I know that he pursued me as surely and steadfastly as LaCroix. And when I was ready, he sent me to you."

He pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair. Natalie felt rather than heard the first sob, and drew him down to cradle his head at her breast. He wept softly, like a man who has already cried for a long time and is at the end of his grief. His breathing eased, and soon he was asleep.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Nat woke to a firm grip on her wrist. She opened her eyes to see Mrs. L, who raised both eyebrows -- and then smiled. After she finished taking Nat's pulse, she drew an extra blanket over Nick's sleeping form.

She was standing on the desert sand again, only this time it was a dream, and she knew it.

"Natalie." The voice came from behind her. She turned and recognized the woman who had stood beside her at the threshold of death.

She was about Nat's height, with long, fair hair and bright blue eyes. Her dress was green linen, long and flared, cut in a style that might have come from the distant past or a downtown boutique. Although there were few lines in her face, and she looked no more than 36 or so, Natalie suddenly felt quite young.

"You've forgotten." There was no reproach in the tone -- simply a statement of fact.

"I'm sorry."

"Come, let me show you again....."

She held out her hand, and Natalie reached out to take it. But the long, slender fingers melted in her grasp and were replaced by a larger, darker, oh-so familiar hand ......

"Grace?" Nat whispered groggily. "Is that you?"

"It certainly is." Nat forced her eyes all the way open and smiled with surprised delight at the face of her friend.

"How did you get in here? " She looked around. Nick was gone, the extra blanket folded at the bottom of the bed.

"I have my ways," Grace waggled her eyebrows mysteriously. "And I had Nick on my side, which helped. As my grandmother used to say, that man could charm the birds out of the tree and into the oven."

"No argument there." Nat shook her head. "What time is it?"

"A little after 10."

"I don't believe they let me sleep in."

"They didn't. Just because you don't remember it, doesn't mean it didn't happen. You had a nice long conversation with the doctor, in fact."

"Did I?" Nat rubbed at her eyes. "Oh yeah. I think I remember." She sighed with frustration. "You'd think that I would have had enough sleep to last the rest of my life, wouldn't you?"

"You know better than that honey. And you're going to be glad of the rest. I hear you're starting physical therapy this morning. That should be loads of fun. I don't envy the therapist."

Nat drew herself up and assumed her most dignified professional manner. "I assure you, I have no intention of justifying the vile cliché that doctors make terrible patients."

"Yeah, right." Natalie stared at her coolly for a moment, then the two women dissolved in giggles.

There was a knock at the door, and in came a hospital volunteer, wheeling a cart filled with floral arrangements.

"Wow," Natalie exclaimed. "Which one's mine?"

"All of them, Doctor Lambert. And these cards are yours, too. They didn't come through the mail. I think a lot of people came by the hospital to drop them off."

Grace whistled. "I guess the word is definitely out. Nick burned up the phone lines yesterday. By the way, he said to tell you that Sarah and Amy send their love and they'll be here on the weekend. He also said to tell you that he'll see you after lunch. Want some help opening those?"

They laughed and sighed and rolled their eyes over the cards, which ranged from a very formal greeting from the chief M.E. to a very funny, very wicked card signed by 6 members of the Morgue staff. "Oh my," Nat said, "This one goes where Amy won't see it."

"Uh-oh," Grace said, looking toward the door. "Your ride is here." She gathered her things together. "I will leave you to the tender mercies of PT." She looked fondly down at her friend, then bent to kiss her on the cheek. "You get better fast, okay?"

Chapter 3

Two hours later, Natalie was back in her room, feeling as if she'd been put through the washer and the wringer -- twice. Even though she had known intellectually what the long sleep had done to her body, it was another thing to come face to face with it.

At least it had given her an appetite for lunch. The only trouble was, the fork felt as if it weighed about 10 pounds, and each piece of pasta salad seemed to add another 5. She persevered through the meal however, wondering where Nick was...

"How was lunch?" She looked up into his grinning face. Mortal or no, he could still sneak up on her. Nick nodded approvingly at her empty plate.

"Not as entertaining as dinner," she chuckled. "It was, however, identifiable. And what do you have there?" Her eyes lit up at the sight of the wheelchair he was pushing.

"Everyone knows the best thing for a convalescent is exercise, good food and fresh air. I have received permission to take you out on the terrace."

"Received permission my foot. Tell me my love, are you quite sure you don't still have hypnotic powers?" Nick just stared at her innocently. "Not that I'm complaining, but Mrs. Lubinsky should never have let you sleep with me last night--assuming you did sleep with me last night."

"Dearest, when I do sleep with you, you won't have any doubts about it." He was laughing, but his voice was faintly husky, and the kiss he gave her held just enough passion to leave her starry-eyed and breathless.

"Milady, your carriage awaits...."

They found a quiet corner of the terrace, and Nick parked her chair facing a low stone bench. He sat down and leaned forward to help her straighten her robe. She felt a sudden weight in her lap and looked down to see a plain white box, about 5 inches deep. "What's this?"

"Contraband," Nick's ominous whisper contrasted with the gleeful look in his eyes.

Nat opened the box, which was lined with insulation, and gasped as the familiar gold and white label caught her eye. "Oh Nick, you shouldn't have....."

".....Haagen-Dazs," she added with reverence.

He chuckled and produced a silver spoon wrapped in a linen napkin, and sat back with amusement to watch her eat.

"Nick, how did you know?"

"I've been eating the food here, remember?"

"Chocolate isn't just food -- it's the means to a higher plane of existence."

"So I hear."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Do you mean to tell me you've been mortal for two months and you still haven't tasted chocolate?"

"Well, I thought I'd wait until you could show me the ropes." He was laughing, but there was a trace of remembered sorrow in his face that made her feel very tender. She was the hospital patient, with a long recovery ahead of her, but Nick had his own deep wounds -- and she was suddenly deeply grateful that he would not have to face his new world alone.

"Well, you are not going to wait one moment longer." She filled the spoon, but dodged when he tried to take it from her. "Open your mouth and close your eyes."

"Close my eyes?"

"First lesson. It tastes better when you close your eyes."

Nick leaned forward obediently. She fed him just a little bit, then sat back to watch his reaction, which was very satisfactory.

"That's chocolate?" he said, with a certain amount of awe in his voice.

"Mmmmhmmmm. That's chocolate. Have some more." She watched in amusement as he closed his eyes again to savor the taste. "Trust me. There is nothing like it."

"Oranges, cinnamon and *chocolate,* " he whispered, eyes still closed.

"What's that?"

He opened his eyes, cleared his throat and gave her a shy, sad smile and colored slightly. "It's you," he said softly. "It's what you.... taste like."

She shivered suddenly and Nick's face darkened. "I'm sorry, Nat... I ..."

"No, don't worry, Nick, it's not that -- not at all. I don't ever want you to be afraid to remember or talk about the past. I'm just cold. It's one of the side-effects of eating ice-cream." She handed the box back to him, then made a face as she shivered again.

"Well, we'll just have to warm you up a little." In one graceful move (which he had been planning for several minutes), Nick swept her up in his arms and settled back down on the bench, cradling her in his lap. "Better?"

"Mmmmm. Much," she said as she slipped her right arm under his jacket and snuggled into his embrace. "Goodness Nick, you are warm. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Never better.... I never felt better in my whole life." He beamed down at her.

"Oh No." she closed her eyes and shook her head in mock despair. "Oh Noooo. You're one of those."

"One of what?" He was completely bewildered.

"Those infuriating men who don't feel the cold. I bet your mother kept telling you to be sure to button up your jacket and put on your mittens -- or whatever -- and you drove her crazy just leaving them behind."

"You know, you're right." Nick laughed. "We had cloaks instead of jackets -- but we did have mittens. I'd forgotten..." he added, softly.

Nat moaned melodramatically, her voice somewhat muffled against his shoulder. "I am going to have a terrible time with your sons."

"Are you, darling?" He was feeling a little giddy. Nick could not remember the last time he had been so happy for so long....

"Definitely. Oh well, at least the girls aren't going to have any illusions about the weaker sex."

"Nat, just how many children were you planning on?"

"Well, if we want two, it will probably be four."

"This must be that new math there was such a fuss about in the '60s."

"Not math," she shook her head. "Biology. As in my family's biology. We run to twins every other generation. Any objections?"

"No." Nick leaned his forehead against hers and whispered. "One or two or ten -- or none. Whatever you want, sweetheart." He lifted her up in his arms and gave her a long deep kiss that left both of them breathless.....

He stretched his legs and then settled her back in his lap. "You'd better be careful. I'm too heavy," she said with a sigh.

"No you're not." Nick chuckled.

"Yes I am. You should watch your back. You don't have that vampire strength anymore, you know."

"Tell me my love, just how much do you think your typical coat of chain mail weighed in 1228?"

"I don't know.... 10, 15 pounds."

He laughed. "Maybe if you were the King of France. Would you care to try for 60?"

"....plus a sword and a shield and the helmet and the rest of it. I get it," Nat chuckled. "So how do you plan to keep this magnificent physique? I know," she sighed in mock resignation, "you're going to turn into one of those work-out junkies."

"Oh no. I have an excellent routine in mind. No expensive equipment required -- only common household objects." He lifted her easily and planted a kiss on her nose, then lowered her and gave the same treatment in turn to her eyes, cheeks, forehead and mouth, counting "1,2,3.." as he went. After 10 he paused, "So, doctor, how many repetitions do you think I should do?"

Her answer was lost in a much longer kiss. They sat in quiet contentment, gazing into each others eyes, as the time past unnoticed.

Nat broke the silence. "We remind me of a poem -- but I can't remember which one. Two lovers staring at each other all day long.... something about violets...."

Nick quoted softly: " 'Where, like a pillow on a bed, a pregnant bank swelled up, to rest The violet's reclining head, Sat we two, one another's best .... And whilst our souls negotiate there, We like sepulchral statues lay; All day, the same our postures were, and we said nothing, all the day.' Is that it?"

"Yes, that's it. I was a senior in high school, and I thought it was very romantic but unrealistic. Ants and so forth. It's John Donne, isn't it? I remember, ' Love, these mixed souls doth mix again, And makes both one, each this and that.' " She smiled as he kissed her. "Do you know the rest?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid 'A Valediction Forbidding Mourning' would be more appropriate." He sighed and looked at his watch. "I have some business to do, and I'll just make it if I take you downstairs now. I have to tell you, Nat, flying is one thing I really do miss."

Nick walked into her room just as she was starting in on an insipid looking chicken breast.

"You didn't..." she asked, nostrils flaring at the unmistakable aroma of plum sauce.

"I did," he said triumphantly, depositing a bag full of Chinese takeout on the table. "I checked with Dr. Abernathy, and as long as you stay away from MSG and Szechuan, it's okay."

"How much food did you get, Nick? Is Mrs. Lubinsky joining me?"

"Just enough for two...."

"....You know, for someone who hasn't eaten in 8 centuries, you're great with chopsticks."

"Nat, I know how to push food around on a plate in 200 different languages."

"Yeah, well, now that you're actually eating it, you're going to have to keep track of where it lands on your face." She beckoned him forward and wiped a trace of plum sauce from his chin. "So, how did your 'business' go?"

"Fine. I'll tell you about it in a minute. Have a fortune cookie." He tossed a half-dozen in her lap. Nat struggled briefly with the wrappings, muttering "'Vacuum sealed for freshness'" in a tone of utter contempt, and finally succeeded in opening one.

"'Nothing is impossible to a willing heart.'" She beamed at him. "Now you."

"'If a man keeps cherishing his old knowledge, so as continually to be acquiring new, he may be a teacher of others.-Confucius.' Hmmm. I suppose I could take that as career advice. Next?"

"'You are heading for a land of sunshine.' Okay, that settles it. Hawaii for the honeymoon."

Nick opened his next cookie and laughed. "You know, Nat, if I didn't know better, I'd say these were rigged."

"Why?" He showed it to her. "'Stop searching forever, happiness is just next to you.' Well, I could have told you that." There was a brief interruption for a kiss...."Now me. Hey, I've got two stuck together 'You are soon going to change your present line of work' and 'Accept the next proposition you hear.' " She raised an eyebrow at him.

Nick opened his last cookie and looked up at her with a solemn expression. "I don't know Nat, there may be something to this prophecy business." He gravely handed over the slip of paper, which read "The food's pretty good here, you should come back."

When they had finished laughing and Nick had cleaned away the now-empty food containers, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his.

"Actually, those fortunes weren't far off the mark, Nat. That business appointment this afternoon...." Whatever he had to tell her, he was uncertain of his reception. She squeezed his hands and smiled encouragingly. "There isn't any rush, we have lots of time, but.... As soon as possible after we're married, we have to move."

"Move... as in 'move on'?"

"In a way."

"Nick, is it the Enforcers?"

He shook his head. "If they'd wanted to interfere, we'd both be dead," he said simply. He smiled at her wistfully. "It isn't as if we could bottle this cure." He kissed her, then reluctantly released her lips to continue his explanation.

"When Larry Merlin created 'Nicholas B. Knight,' he set me up with an identity and a background that would serve me well for a decade -- no more. It wasn't designed to handle a real life. It certainly would never stand up to an investigation, even a friendly one. My grades may be listed in the computer alongside those of everyone else from the class of 1980, but no one would be able to find a teacher or a student or a coach who remembered me. Same goes for my 'history' in Chicago. Not to mention pesky little details like my blood-type. So, I need to become a slightly different person, as far as the records are concerned......

"Actually, the mechanics of it won't be that difficult. For one thing, money is not a problem. For another, Nat, you aren't going to have to give up your past. We can still stay in touch with friends here.....And if the Enforcers *are* watching us, it will be good diplomacy."

Natalie nodded, understanding immediately. "If we just stay here, as if nothing had happened, we'd be thumbing our noses at them. If we take steps to see that no one, mortal or vampire, starts digging into Nick Knight's past, we're telling them that we understand the need for discretion."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

She took a deep breath. "So, where are we going?"

"Where would you like to go? We have the whole world to choose from, my lady, and your wish is my command. I confess to a politically incorrect impulse to carry you off and pamper you like a princess," he smiled and brushed a lock of hair off of her forehead.

"Pampering is not entirely out of the question," she chuckled. "It just doesn't work as a whole lifestyle thing."

"The rest of that question is 'and What would you like to *do*?' Do you want to stick with Pathology? You told me once you wondered if research would have been a better choice. I know we talked about children," his voice grew tender, "but if you wanted to do a second residency, that's possible now. Or you could help me with the Foundation. There are lots of possibilities...."

They talked about them as the hours wore on -- their dreams and hopes and fears. And at last, as she teetered on the brink of sleep, Natalie asked the question he had been dreading.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, Nat."

"When he... tried to bring you over.... Did you see anything?"

"I saw nothing I didn't already know. Nothing we didn't already know. And nothing that will help me predict the future." He sighed. "We may never see him again, or he may come back in a year, or 5 or 10. You don't need me to tell you that his patience is as long as his memory or that he is capable of very great evil." He kissed her hand and held it to his heart, as if it gave him the strength to be completely honest with her. "If he does want revenge, I wouldn't put it past him to wait long for it -- and to strike where it will hurt most."

"If he so much as looks cross-eyed at one of our babies I'll stake him and force-feed him protein shakes and garlic pills until he wishes he'd never been born."

"Truly a fate worse than death." Nick laughed at her fierce outburst and held her close. His voice grew serious again as he whispered into her hair. "Nat, I wish I could promise to keep you safe ...."

"Shhh. No one can make that promise," she said, caressing the back of his neck. "Every time we love, we give a hostage to fortune and chance and chaos. I know. I see it in my work. All we can do is the best we can and have faith that all may be well in the end. " She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

"We're luckier than most people, Nick. We know this danger well. We'll teach our children and our grandchildren what they need to know, and pray that if the worst comes, they won't be afraid to choose the light. That's all any father or mother can do."

They held each other close. There were a few tears on both sides, but they were so full of love and faith that even the specter of LaCroix' possible revenge couldn't spoil their happiness and hope. After a while, Nick felt Nat drowsing against him. He gently laid her back in her bed.

"We'll look after them," she said sleepily. "And you'll look after me. And I'll look after you...." She yawned and snuggled into the pillow. "That's why they let me come back, you know. Because you needed someone to look after you.... She said so. My lady."

"Did she darling? Well, she was right. Shhhh, Nat, go to sleep."

"But I forgot something.... Something I was supposed to do....Something she wanted me to do." Her voice and eyes were heavy with sleep.

"You'll remember in the morning," he said soothingly, brushing her hair back from her face and kissing her on the forehead. "I love you."

"Something I was supposed to give you.... Oh, yes." She rolled over onto her back and squinted at him through sleep-filled eyes "C'mere." She reached up toward his face.

"Nat, you're worse than Juliet. You'll say goodnight 'til it be morrow. You should sleep, love."

"I will, I promise, but I have to do this." She took his face in her hands and drew him down to her, kissing him on the forehead, on the mouth, then on his right eye and then the left, ending with the tip of his nose. Nick was absolutely still, his face suffused with awe as he received this tender benediction. Nat, her own eyes tight shut again, snuggled contentedly back into her pillows, murmuring something unintelligible.

"What did you say, darling?" he asked, his voice catching slightly.

Her voice was faint, trailing off as sleep took her in its soft embrace. "I said, that's from your mother..." She yawned again. "I really like your mother, Nick...." and she was fast asleep.

Nick sat in the chair and stared at his sleeping beloved. "That doesn't surprise me a bit, Nat. That doesn't surprise me a bit." He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and a single tear broke loose and ran down his cheek. "Merci, maman," he whispered softly. "Merci."

The End

The quotes are from John Donne's "The Ecstasy," which is too long to reproduce here. "A Valediction Forbidding Mourning" is about (temporary) parting. A contemporary biographer said that Donne wrote it for his wife when he went on a trip to France.

The fortune-cookie fortunes are authentic.