The opera in Toronto introduced the marvelous concept of surtitles several years ago. (Thanks to Marg Yamanaka for that information!)

If you've seen the film "Amadeus," you've seen the Count kneel and beg the Countess' pardon, and heard "Ah Tutti contenti," the chorus that concludes the opera. If you happen to have the video or soundtrack of the film, you might want to check it out. And you can hear a snippet of it on Amazon.com's listing for the CD. The text (in Italian) is at the end of this story, along with a summary of the action from the New York City Opera.

I haven't found any better way of describing the effect of this than the words that Peter Shaffer gave to Salieri in "Amadeus": "...I heard the music of true forgiveness filling the theater, conferring on all who sat there, perfect absolution...."

Nick and Nat and Forever Knight are the property of James Parriott, Sony and the rest of TPTB. The story is copyright to me.

"Blood Will Tell"
By Mary Combs
July 1999

He should have changed the alarm code. He'd meant to do it. How many times had he made a mental note to take the two minutes necessary to keep her out? To keep her away. To keep her safe. He'd never quite gotten around to it.

Another failure. Another betrayal.

Of course, if he'd had the courage to leave, as he should have done weeks ago, this would not be happening.

He reached for the glass of blood on the table, tossed it back, refilled it and drank it down again. He stood as the elevator came to rest. She stepped into the loft and let the metal panel slide shut behind her.

They looked at each other for a long time in silence, remembering.....

"Damn you, Nicholas!"

LaCroix plunged the walking stick into the floor, smashing it to splinters against the cement. He closed his eyes and fought to regain control of the anger, pain and fear that warred in his heart. His emotions -- or at least the evidence of them -- under control, he bent to touch the wound on Natalie's throat. He sniffed delicately at his fingertips, but did not taste, and the expression on his face when he spoke again was completely inscrutable.

"She's alive."

Nick watched, bewildered, as the elder vampire walked unhurriedly to the phone, lifted it from the cradle and brought it back to him.

"Here. Call 922 or whatever you do for 'emergencies.' I assume this qualifies."

Nick punched in the numbers and managed to give the address and a fairly coherent account of Natalie's condition -- including her blood type.

"Thank you," he whispered, still on his knees beside her.

"Don't thank me yet." LaCroix' eyes narrowed. "I'm leaving -- as I said I would. I suggest that you follow me, as soon as she is safely in the hospital." He looked down at his son, who had pulled the woman into his lap and was stroking her hair and murmuring endearments and pleas to hold on and stay with him. The old vampire shook his head and was gone.....

Nick's story -- that he had found her in the alley near the warehouse, unconscious after an animal attack -- was not accepted in the ER.

Ironically, no one entertained the possibility that he had harmed her. Instead, the initial theory was that, distraught over her friend Lora's death and suffering from overwork and depression, Dr. Lambert had attempted suicide--and Detective Knight was protecting her reputation.

However, a careful examination of the wound -- and a well-placed 'suggestion' from a determined vampire -- made the record match his original account.

Nick wrote his letter of resignation on hospital stationery and handed it to Joe Reese at Natalie's bedside. When Joe protested that Tracy Vetter's death was not his fault, Nick shook his head. "Even if you're right, Cap, What about Dawkins?"

Reese looked into the haunted blue eyes and found he had no answer. The man had been thrown against the wall with brutal force, his back broken. Even if IA was willing to cut Knight some slack on that one, Nick was not going to do himself the same favor. He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder and said quietly. "We'll be praying for you -- for both of you."

He sat by her bed day and night, going home only to shower, change, feed and refill the flask he carried in his pocket. He saw to it that she had the best medical care possible. He was there when she regained consciousness. He waited until she was completely awake and kissed her, just once, very tenderly. "I'm sorry, Natalie," he whispered against her cheek. "I'm so sorry." Then he called Sarah and Amy into the room, and he left.

They hadn't seen each other since.

She stood there, calmly -- waiting for him to make the first move -- but he seemed transfixed at the sight of her, and the silence eventually became unbearable.

"Nick, we need to talk."

His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time. "What's there to say? I almost killed you. I betrayed your faith in me. The only reason I'm still here is because I'm a selfish coward. Otherwise I would have left. And I will, soon."

"You had faith....."

There was a flash of something across his face, a brightness in his eyes and even a trace of a smile, but it vanished in a moment. "Yes, yes. I believed it. I believed it all. But then the reality was there in my arms. What I did to you."

His expression was so bleak that it made her heart ache. "I can't change it, Nat. No matter how much I want it, no matter how much I try to believe -- I can only hurt you. It is unforgivable."

She walked slowly toward him, her hands still thrust deep into the pockets of her coat, until she was standing in front of the fireplace. He backed away, keeping his distance.

"Give me 15 minutes. That's all I ask. A quarter of an hour. That's not much out of eight centuries, is it?"

He shook his head. "All right, Nat, I'll listen to what you have to say. But it won't change my mind." He stared back at her with a determined expression.

He was prepared for all her arguments--part of him wanted to believe all her arguments. He wanted to stay; he wanted to hope. But he couldn't. No matter what she said, he knew that she could not possibly forgive him. She had seen all the horror of his life: He had forced it on her. He had brought her to the brink of death. Deep in her heart, the fear would always be there, and rightly so. Even if she would not admit it to herself.

But the scent of her, the nearness of her, was making it very difficult to be in the same room. "Can I get you something?" He waved in the direction of the kitchen.

She smiled faintly. "Coffee?"

"Yeah. I can do that." There was a flicker of the old Nick, but it died quickly.

She waited on the hearth rug as he went to the kitchen and set up the coffee maker the way she had taught him. He pulled a bottle from the fridge and stood at the counter while the coffee brewed, not looking at her, steadily drinking down all of the blood.

He tossed the empty into the trash, poured a mug of coffee and, cursing his unsteady hands, added a teaspoon of sugar. "Sorry, there's no milk."

The longer she was in the loft, the stronger the sweet scent of her grew. As he walked back toward the sofa it became overwhelming. He dropped the mug, heedless of the hot brown liquid spilling everywhere, grabbed the brimming goblet on the table and upended it, downing the contents in a desperate effort to quell the feelings she was stirring in him.

It poured down his throat, rich and sweet and warm..... warm. Some corner of his mind whispered, "The glass was empty......" and then it struck him, like a physical blow. Dazed and bewildered, he looked at the crystal in his hand and then at Natalie's grave face.

"I knew words couldn't convince you." She stepped forward and calmly set a small thermos onto the coffee table. "This was the only way."

Speechless, Nick could only shake his head in wonder as the ecstasy of her blood swept through him. Overwhelmed, he fled -- a dark blur that barely registered on Natalie's vision -- and she heard the door to his bedroom slam shut.

She slipped out of her coat and draped it over the armchair, put the broken mug in the trash, mopped up the coffee, and washed Nick's glass and the thermos. She unplugged the brewer. It had been a means to distract him. The last thing she needed right now was a cup of coffee. She turned up the fire and sat on the sofa, composing herself for what might be a very long wait.

She would not leave. She had already decided that. No matter what happened, she would not leave him, or let him leave her. No matter what he thought, she had seen that night how much he loved her and how deep his faith could be, and she would not let him settle for less. So Natalie sat on the sofa, watching the fire, waiting and praying.

At last, she heard the sound of his door opening, but she didn't turn her head or look up. Nick came quietly down the stairs. He did something with the stereo and then slowly walked over to stand in front of her. She still didn't look up. The music started. She recognized it instantly.....

"The Marriage of Figaro".....a night at the opera, with Don and Myra Schanke.... an elaborate ruse to explain Nick's possession of box seats. The surtitles had broken after the first intermission, so Nick had whispered highlights into her willing ear. But at the end, when the Count knelt to his wife and begged pardon, and Nick leaned in to interpret the reply, Nat had smiled and squeezed his arm, whispering, with tears in her eyes, "I know.... She forgives him."

*Contessa, perdono....* In a single graceful motion, Nick knelt before her and laid his head in her lap, slipping his arms around her waist. She leaned forward, bending over him, as if somehow she could shelter him from all that weight of sorrow. She held him close as the soprano's sweet benediction and the blood she had given him gave her answer *...si.*

She stroked his back with her left hand and caressed his head with her right, running her fingers through his hair and touching his cheek. His eyes were tight shut. She held him as the company sang of peace at the end of a day of torment and folly. There was a moment of silence, and then the music changed to something sweet and gentle for strings, but Natalie's attention was focused entirely on him.

After a while, Nick lifted his head and sat back on his heels, searching her face with a wondering half-smile. He started to say something, but she stopped him, placing her fingertips over his lips.

He smiled in earnest then, removed her hand and kissed the palm, then rose to his knees and pulled her toward him, capturing her lips, drawing her down off the sofa until she was cradled in his lap. He slipped one arm under her knees and easily came to his feet, stepping around the table to stand in front of the fireplace.

He broke the kiss, reluctantly, and while Natalie caught her breath, he rocked her slightly, saying nothing, but smiling at her with a face so full of love that it would have made her cry if she didn't feel so much like laughing out loud. As if in answer to the thought, he showered her face with kisses until she giggled while he carried her up the stairs to the bedroom......

She had meant for her blood to tell him how much she loved him, to overwhelm his guilt with an absolute knowledge of her forgiveness and faith so that he would stay -- or at least take her with him, if remaining in Toronto was truly impossible.

She had not let herself hope that it would lead so swiftly to this -- at least, not on the night. She had imagined more than once what it would be like to be swept off her feet by Nick, but instead of the passionate whirlwind of her fantasies, he led her into a long, slow dance of delight that made all her secret dreams of loving him pale in the face of the reality.

At the crest of their passion, she saw a flicker of gold in his eyes, and instantly reached up to take his face in both hands. Nick closed his eyes and turned his head slightly to kiss the inside of her wrist.

She felt the hard points of his teeth behind the softness of the kiss, and when he looked back at her, it was with the alien face of the vampire -- eyes glowing gold, slightly parted lips revealing the tips of his fangs.

She smiled tenderly and slipped her hands around to the back of his head, drawing him down to her neck. With a sound that was more like a sob than a growl, Nick bit, oh so gently, into the vein pulsing there. Her blood flowed into him once again....

And the heart of the vampire was calmed.

As they lay drowsing in each other's arms, Nick punctuated his caresses with tender, cherishing kisses, and settled alongside her with his face buried in the sweet hollow between her neck and shoulder.

Natalie drifted between waking and sleeping, until something odd roused her. With a trace of alarm, she became aware of a rivulet of hot moisture, trailing down her neck, across her collar bone, into the hollow between her breasts. "He can't have bitten me again," she thought. "I'd have felt it..." She reached up toward her neck and touched Nick's face -- and then she understood.

He wept quite silently, without a sob or a struggle for breath. The tears flowed steadily, and Natalie said nothing, only pressing her cheek against his face, stroking the back of his head and neck, soothing him without words.

At last, the flow halted. Nick gave one long, shuddering sigh, and moved slightly lower in her arms, so his head was pillowed on her breast. She felt his weight increase as he fell deeply asleep.

But Natalie stayed wide awake through the night, waiting for dawn, while he grew steadily warmer in her arms.

Finis

Excerpt from libretto of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Marriage of Figaro

Act IV finale

IL CONTE: Contessa, perdono!

LA CONTESSA: Più docile io sono, e dico di sì.

TUTTI:
Ah, tutti contenti
saremo così.
Questo giorno di tormenti,
di capricci, e di follia,
in contenti e in allegria
solo amor può terminar.
Sposi, amici, al ballo, al gioco,
alle mine date foco!
Ed al suon di lieta marcia
corriam tutti a festeggiar!.

From the New York City Opera's summary:
"The Count immediately realizes that he has fallen into a clever trap, and begs forgiveness. The Countess forgives him, pointing out that she is more lenient than he, and the company rejoices as the opera ends."