Happy Anniversary 
by Christina L Kamnikar  
3 Mar 1996  
 
This is one of those ideas that stuck in my head.  
  
I doubt any of you haven't seen Fever, Night in Question, Sons  
of Belial, Games Vampires Play, or The Human Factor, but if by  
some strange chance you haven't, skip the following until you  
have. Major spoilers for all of them.  
  
Chocolate kisses to my beta-readers: the one & only Dianne la  
Mercenaire, Jamie the Web Goddess, Isabella la bella (:)), and  
Felicia LeCou, my ex-partner in crime. They _said_ it didn't  
need cutting... so blame them if it's too long. Blame me for  
everything else.  
  
FK COPYRIGHT ZAP: These characters have been plundered  
from Forever Knight, stuck in my story, and forced to do my  
will. They are the property of James Parriot, Bedard/Lalonde,  
and various people I'm mad at. 'Nuff said.  
  
For Jamie & the Natpackers & the Cousins - Mercs can have  
sympathy, too  
  
Happy Anniversary  
by Christina Kamnikar  
  
She'd sent the note and the flowers before she gotten Nick's  
little package. Maybe she wouldn't have sent them if she'd  
received the box earlier; maybe it would have inspired her to  
even greater heights of foolishness. Hard to say - she'd been  
brooding on the plan for several weeks, and if given an  
opportunity to set it aside, she probably wouldn't have taken it.  
But it was too late for that anyway.  
  
 Sitting at her desk, Natalie shook her head over the box and the  
card. A simple white velvet box, containing a beautiful pendant:  
a little multi-pointed silver star set with one flawless pearl.  
Nothing anyone else would have thought of, but so lovely it  
almost made her cry. The card was worse. Nick always did have  
a way with cards. It made her angry, happy, sad, confused... On  
the front was printed one of Shakespeare's sonnets, the one  
about "Let me not to the marriage of true minds..." Natalie had  
always thought it overrated before. But the connection to the  
pendant and the note inside made her heart skip. And then  
drop like a stone.  
  
To Nat  
        Who understands more than most  
        Loves where she doesn't understand  
        and who has truly been  
        A star to guide me through storms  
  
Always  
Nick  
  
It still didn't say 'love'. He couldn't even write it. And he gave a  
gift that could be interpreted as a gift of friendship, not  
romance. Nick hadn't even delivered it in person... or called yet,  
to find out if she liked it. He was moving farther and farther  
away from her. From everything.  It made her so angry that she  
was almost glad she'd sent the flowers.  
  
It had stopped mattering that Nick say it for her sake several  
months ago - back in October, during the talk-show murders.  
Somewhere in there she'd *finally* gotten it, gotten clear how  
much he _did_ love her, even if he could only say the word  
'care'. But it had become even more important that he be able to  
say it for himself. That Nick could be able to admit that he loved  
her, that he counted on her, that he still dreamed of becoming  
mortal. If he couldn't even say it to her, how difficult was it for  
him to tell the truth to himself? How close was he to giving up  
entirely? There had been so many setbacks so close together -  
the video game, the plague, the 'possession'... each had taken  
him farther away. And then there was Janette.  
  
The look on his face when Nick had told her that he wouldn't  
risk her life in attempting the cure that Janette had accidentally  
found was still burned into her mind. Hurt, the fear of losing  
her, determination...what could she have said in the face of  
that?  It was never really about the risk to her - it was about  
Nick's terror of causing her harm. Of being the cause of her  
pain. No matter how many times they went through this, he  
still didn't accept that she was willing to take the risks. Nick's  
fear of putting her in danger was too great; she couldn't force  
herself to pressure him into something that frightened him so  
much.  
  
So as Valentine's Day had approached, she'd considered many  
things, not the least of which was the previous year's  
celebration. She hadn't had a definite course of action until after  
the debacle with Janette. The implications of the cure she'd  
found with her mortal lover, and Nick's refusal to pursue that  
line of research, had crystallized the idea she'd been toying with  
since New Year's.  
  
"Never let it be said that I am not puunctual." A white rose  
dropped onto her desk, and she raised her eyes to the man  
standing across from her.  Lacroix smiled thinly, flipped open  
the tiny card he held in his hand and read from it. "'Three a.m.,  
my office. We need to talk.' Not the most elegant of invitations,  
but nonetheless compelling. The roses..." he gestured at the one  
on her desk, his expression unreadable, "were an interesting  
touch."  
  
"I remembered that you liked them." Natalie didn't let her  
fingers clench, or her breathing speed up, despite how much  
they wanted to. She'd had enough practice talking to vampires  
over the last few months, hell, the last few years, that she was  
almost certain that he wouldn't detect the jump in her pulse.  
She kept her eyes steady as she confronted him.  
  
"Remembered? From when?" The lightness of his voice was  
belied by the stillness of the gaze he turned on her. She couldn't  
bear it sitting still any longer, so she stood and paced over to the  
empty examining table.  The table that had held Cal's body only  
a few short weeks ago. She'd had to do the autopsy on one of  
her oldest friends to protect the murderer; the man standing in  
front of her. Not for the murderer's sake, but for Nick's, and his  
friend Vachon's, for all the rest of Toronto's underground  
community. It had been that which had given her the courage  
to send the note. If she could do that, she could do anything.  
  
"Last year. They were at the Azure. I assumed you'd ordered  
them, since most of the dinner arrangements don't come with  
such elaborate decorations." She fiddled with the lights on the  
table, then noticed the hard look Lacroix was giving her. Natalie  
laughed humorlessly. "Oh, please.  Don't tell me you're  
surprised I remember. You knew the second you got the  
flowers, if you didn't know before."  
  
"Actually, I am more surpised that you admit it." He studied her  
a moment, then slowly approached the table, leaning both  
hands against the cold metal. "For how long have you known  
what happened?"  
  
"Sometime during the summer it all came back... I've always  
been hard to hypnotize. I assume the drug in the champagne  
helped." Natalie smiled bitterly. "You weren't going to leave  
anything to chance, were you?"  
  
"No." He wasn't smiling, but Lacroix's calm statement still held a  
trace of amusement. "I never do."  
  
"No," Natalie echoed, nodding curtly. "Why give anyone a fair  
shot?  Why even pretend to? All that matters is winning. Right?"  
  
"Perhaps you don't remember as much as you think you do,"  
Lacroix said in a patronizing tone, not rising to her baiting. "The  
issue under discussion between Nicholas and myself was a very  
old one. A promise he made to me a long time ago, which I  
thought he would be required to fulfill." The slyness in his eyes  
made Natalie's palms itch with the urge to hit him. She put her  
hands in her pockets to prevent herself from doing anything  
stupid. Lacroix was still speaking. "Of course I was mistaken,  
and the entire incident was revealed to be... a  
misunderstanding."  
  
"No, it wasn't." She clenched her fists, and then deliberately  
unclenched them. "Nick loves me. You wanted him to kill me or  
bring me across, to fulfill an idiotic vow made centuries ago."  
  
"It was not an idiotic vow." That unnatural stillness was back,  
sending a little trickle of fear through her. Natalie glanced at his  
face; it was frozen into an expression of contempt. "Not that I  
would expect you to understand that." His upper lip curled  
coldly, and he straightened into haughty stiffness.  "And  
Nicholas does not _love_ you. He made that quite clear last  
Valentine's Day. If by some odd circumstance that has changed  
over the past year..." he shrugged, letting the menace in his  
smile intensify. "Then he would feel compelled to fulfill our  
bargain."  
  
"Yes. He would. He does." Natalie felt that reflexive,  
self-protective and mocking smile on her lips, the one that had  
allowed her to face rooms full of only male colleagues at  
conferences, the one got her through autopsies where there was  
nothing funny at all. "That's why I asked you here." She slowly  
forced herself to walk around the table, to stand directly in front  
of him, within arm's reach. Easy prey. "I want you to release him  
from that promise."  
  
"What possible reason would I have to do so?" Lacroix shook his  
head slowly, eyes never leaving her face. "And why have you  
even bothered to ask?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know." Natalie cocked her head, knowing that the  
sum of what she had to say next could save Nick or get her  
killed. "There's a lot of reasons." She walked over to the filing  
cabinet, and opened the lower drawer. "Quid pro quo, maybe?  
For all the times I've covered for you?" She pulled out a folder  
labelled _LC_ and threw it down on the counter. "The museum  
guard, and the O negative blood-type murderer. Cal.  The man  
who tried to kill Emily Weiss. The two murders you tried to  
frame Nick for. And that's just for starters. We could get into the  
help I gave your people during the meteor scare and the plague,  
but I would have done that in any event."  
  
"Emotional blackmail, doctor?" Lacroix chuckled softly. "It  
would only work if I felt any sort of debt to you. Which I do  
not." He crossed his arms and leaned against the examination  
table. "As you pointed out, you would have helped the  
Community in any event... your mortal conscience wouldn't let  
you do anything else. And as for my endeavors - no one would  
believe you if you chose to tell the truth. You would be far more  
likely to earn a trip to a quiet sanitarium than to cause me a  
moment's discomfort."  
  
"No, I didn't think it would. It was just a thought." Ploy one  
having been shot down as she'd half-suspected it would be,  
Natalie studied him a moment, then said, "You don't like me, do  
you?"  
  
"I neither like nor dislike you personally, Dr. Lambert." He  
shrugged negligently, his gaze wandering around the room.   
"Your persistent bolstering of Nicholas's foolish quest for  
mortality aside, you seem to be relatively intelligent. Possessed  
of a greater degree of imagination than most mortals, perhaps."  
He brought his gaze back to her, and let his eyes roam over her  
from head to foot, before coming back to rest on her face.   
"Attractive, certainly. But of little interest to me in any way  
unconnected to my son."  
  
"You're lying," Natalie said quietly, and watched the flare of   
irritation that Lacroix quickly stifled.  "You're afraid of me. And  
you resent me. Because I _am_ important to Nick. I'm helping  
him regain his mortality, and he loves me completely apart  
from that. That terrifies you.  The idea of losing him terrifies  
you."  
  
"Ridiculous," Lacroix snarled, taking a threatening step forward.   
Natalie took a deep breath and found herself rushing through  
the next part of her rehearsed speech.  
  
"Did you know that he refused to even consider trying the cure  
Janette discovered?" The vampire stood motionless, and Nat  
smiled painfully, unable to stop talking.  "He couldn't face it. He  
said he couldn't risk losing me like that." She stared down at the  
floor, her foot tapping rhythmically as she went on. "This is the  
most important thing in the world to him, getting his soul back,  
becoming human - and he won't take the chance with my life. I  
love him, he loves me, and he won't do it. I'm not sure it would  
work, but he thinks it would... but he's too scared."  
  
She looked up again, and found Lacroix studying her intently.   
"He won't even say he loves me. I used to think it was just  
because Nick was afraid that we would end up where we did  
last year, on Valentine's Day. But lately---" Natalie brushed her  
hair out of her face, dredging up that ironic smile again, "Lately  
I've been thinking he's giving up. He's never been real happy  
with the slow methods I've been pushing on him. And   
there've been so many setbacks over the last few months, ever  
since that...whatever-it-was. Possession, whatever."  
  
Lacroix snorted softly, his tone mocking. "'Possession.' Only  
Nicholas could believe that anachronistic claptrap. It was  
merely... a temporary aberration on his part. Possibly a residue  
from his injury."  
  
The coroner shrugged her shoulders wearily. "Well, aberration  
or not, ever since then it's been harder for him to stick to the  
program.  Which should make you happy." She blinked tiredly,  
rubbing her eyes.  
  
"Did you summon me here to tell me that I am winning  
Nicholas back, and because of _this_, I should release him from  
his promise?" Lacroix's superior smile was condescending,  
pitying.  "Forgive me, dear Natalie. I fail to follow your logic.  
There appears to be no reason for me to give Nicholas the  
slightest bit of leeway."  
  
"Because you're not winning him back! You're destroying him!"  
Nat shouted. She stalked forward, pushing a finger in Lacroix's  
chest, too blind with anger to care about the risk she courted.  
"He doesn't _care_, Lacroix. He's resigned. He listens to your  
damn radio show and doesn't drink the protein drinks and takes  
the worst kind of risks and won't even talk about becoming  
human anymore! Like it doesn't matter!" Her voice dropped as  
she went on.  
  
"And he's not going back to you, either, is he? You aren't seeing  
him at the Raven more often. He's not killing." Lacroix's silence  
confirmed her suspicions, and she went on, speaking faster and  
faster. "Maybe he's been backsliding and drinking human blood,  
but it doesn't make him happy.  All the life is going out of him.   
And if there is one thing I've learned over the last three months,  
it's that you love him. Twisted as your feelings for him are, you  
do care about him. You wouldn't have covered for him at the  
hospital, or taken him to that exorcist, if you didn't."  She was  
shaking, whether from anger or fear she couldn't tell. Lacroix  
hadn't moved from where he stood, simply watching her with  
those deep, cold eyes.  
  
"Since you are such an expert on love," Lacroix said quietly. "Tell  
me, doctor. Do you know what it is to lose the one person in the  
world who is the other half of yourself?" She didn't say  
anything, afraid to interrupt the rare outpouring. "Fleur should  
_never_ have died. NEED never have died. I spared her because  
Nicholas begged me to do so; and because..." His lips thinned,  
and his eyes hooded, concealing his emotions.  
  
"Because you loved her."  
  
"No." Lacroix snarled suddenly. "I spared her because Nicholas  
made me afraid to do otherwise - afraid that she would turn  
against me, as her brother eventually did. I wondered if what I...  
loved, would become something else." He paced forward,  
looming over Natalie. "It was a mistake.  I should never have  
listened to him. And I will *not* be the only one to pay for that  
mistake. Nicholas suffered little at the time; a small grief when  
she died. Nothing else. He must understand my loss before I  
will forgive him." The low, sibilant voice seemed to fill the room  
with Lacroix's animosity, chilling Natalie with the fear that  
she'd been horribly wrong to ask him here.  
  
He brooded for a moment, watching her. "And yet... you are not  
entirely wrong." The mortal hugged herself, wondering where  
he was going with this. "I love Nicholas as my son. His search  
for a cure for my gift to him will eventually destroy him. Killing  
you would solve so many problems," he said softly, reaching out  
to toy with a tendril of her hair. "I would have my revenge;  
Nicholas would be farther away from finding some 'scientific'  
cure; and there would be no chance of him gaining the courage  
to try the method which gave Janette her brief mortality. Tell  
me, doctor, why shouldn't I kill you?"  
  
Natalie met his eyes squarely, almost completely certain of the  
truth of what she was about to say, but still shaking inside.   
"Because of what I said before, and what you didn't deny: Nick  
is on the edge already.  He's not that far from opening up the  
blinds some morning and waiting for the sunrise. And one other  
reason." Lacroix raised an eyebrow, and the coroner fought the  
urge to slap his fingers away from her hair.  
  
"You knew last Valentine's Day that Nick was lying. You didn't  
force him to kill me then because you _knew_ it would drive  
him away from you completely, and hate you forever. And  
because it gave you more pleasure to watch him suffer in  
denying his feelings than to have the transitory satisfaction of  
making Nick fulfill his promise to kill someone he loved.  You  
never had any intention of forcing him to go through with it.  
You got more fun out of watching him turn his back on me."  
Remembering the desperate moments after Lacroix left, when  
she was still powerless to move, and Nick had held her as if his  
life depended on it, she knew she was right. And that as much  
as all his murders gave her reason to fight him, to hate him...  
  
 "Perhaps I did underestimate you," Lacroix whispered, drawing  
back.  They were both silent a moment, then Lacroix turned  
away and paced the length of the room. "But if I were to release  
him from his promise, how could I be certain that the two of  
you would not eventually become desperate enough to attempt  
the 'true love' cure?" He swung back to her, his eyes flashing  
with grim intensity.  "Do you really think he would last any  
longer than Janette did, as a human? That he won't try to save  
some child from a drunk driver's path, or step in front of a bullet  
meant for another police officer? I will always desire  
recompense for Fleur's death.  But that does not stop me from  
wishing to protect Nicholas from his own foolishness. You have  
a cure in your hands, doctor. A solution that my son would,  
were it not for my threats, be highly likely to attempt. If that  
threat is keeping him alive at the cost of his anger and  
resentment... so be it."  
  
"We won't try that." Natalie started to feel the tiniest, slightest  
sliver of hope. A prayer that things might get better for Nick  
soon. "I told you, I'm not convinced it would work. If I were,  
yes, we'd try it. But I'm not. The circumstances surrounding  
Janette's case were unique. I can't recommend it in good  
conscience."  
  
"Unlike your other attempts?" Lacroix sneered.  
  
Natalie met his contempt with a stoic expression. "I've made  
mistakes with Nick. I admit it, okay? There have been several  
painful, damaging miscalculations... but as long as he still wants  
to become mortal, I'm going to keep trying. Gradually, slowly,  
so Nick can get used to human limits again, and not make the  
mistakes Janette made. So that when he's human, he _won't_ die  
within a week of being cured."  
  
"Despite the consequences. Because you want to 'redeem' him."  
The vampire's face was twisted into a grimace of anger. "To  
make him human, and _good_ and _moral_ again. Mortal. So he  
can die, like Fleur. Needlessly."  
  
"Not needlessly. And not just so he can die." Natalie felt herself  
begin to plead, but didn't care. This was too important to give a  
damn about her pride. "So he can live the way he wants to, in  
the light, in one place, for one lifetime.  He wants this so badly,  
Lacroix." She let out a frustrated sigh, pushing her hair away  
from her face. "As for redemption -I think Nick is already  
redeemed. You think he doesn't need to be redeemed.  But he  
doesn't. He thinks that only becoming human can do that for  
him. And he's starting to give up on that. It's only a matter of  
time before he gives up completely..." Natalie closed her eyes,  
weary beyond words.  
  
Distantly, she could hear the sounds of the room: the hum of the  
generator, the low buzz of her computer, the flickering hiss of  
the fluorescent lights. Nothing else. Maybe he left. Maybe it was  
a stupid idea to begin with. She'd just been so fed up with the  
lies and so afraid of the direction Nick was going in... She  
opened her eyes. Lacroix was still there, standing barely an  
arm's length away, examining her face. "You love him," he said  
quietly, sounding a little surprised. Natalie felt a spurt of  
irritation.  
  
"That's what I've been telling you for the last half hour," she  
snapped angrily.  
  
"Forgive me, doctor." A smile tugged at the edges of Lacroix's  
mouth. "Many women have desired Nicholas. Some have even  
cared about him.  Quite a few thought they loved him... but I  
can't recall the last one who was willing to take such risks for  
him, knowing all that he is. No, wait -I do remember. What a  
long time ago that was..." His eyes grew distant for a moment,  
then focused again on her more clearly.  
  
"Let me make sure I understand your arguments: my insistence  
on Nicholas's repayment of the loss of Fleur is keeping him from  
you. From daring to express his love. Which is making him more  
miserable than he already is, and bringing him to the brink of  
self-destruction; along, of course, with my resistance to his  
search for a way back to mortality. All of this is destroying his  
ability to hope."  
  
"Yes," Natalie whispered, her voice husky and raw.  
  
"And because I care for him, I should set aside my revenge -  
which you state I have no intention of taking anyway - and  
cease discouraging him in his endeavors, since you will not be  
attempting the one almost certain cure of which we both know."  
He shook his head very, very slowly. "It is not enough, Doctor. I  
need something more from you before I will allow Nicholas the  
peace of mind you request."  
  
"What?" She coughed a little, and cleared her throat, afraid of  
what he would ask.   
 
"Three things. And understand, I am very serious about the  
conditions attached." Lacroix's eyes bored into her. "Number  
one: a solemn vow that you will never, ever attempt to cure  
Nicholas as Janette was cured. If you violate this vow, I will take  
great pleasure in killing you as quickly as possible. I will not put  
Nicholas at risk." 
  
Natalie looked at him, feeling a chill steal over her. "I promise,"  
she said, wondering if it was a mistake the second after she said  
the words.  
  
"Two: if Nicholas at any time changes his mind - if he decides to  
embrace his true nature - that you will allow him to do so  
without criticism or censure. After all," he smiled humorlessly,  
"it is no more than what you ask of me."  
  
 Her throat dry, Natalie nodded. At his inquiring look, she  
unwillingly said, "I promise. I'll ask him why, but if he really,  
truly doesn't want it anymore - I won't give him any grief. But  
it'll never happen."  
  
"So you say." Lacroix shrugged. "Lastly.  I will release Nicholas  
from his promise, and discontinue my efforts to actively  
dissuade him, providing that you never repeat this conversation  
to him.  I will not have him believe that I was persuaded to  
leniency because of you." He took one step forward, standing  
very close to Natalie, his eyes fixed on hers.  "Beleive this also,  
Dr. Lambert. I do not make these promises or set these  
conditions lightly. I understand the risk involved - that Nicholas  
may regain his mortality. But I do _not_ make any promises  
about what I will do should that come to pass." The poisonous  
smile which accompanied this speech promised dire results if  
Nick ever _did_ become mortal. Natalie didn't care.  
  
"I didn't expect you to," she replied quietly. "And I understand  
you perfectly. I merely wanted to make this easier on Nick." She  
paused, then added, "He cares about you too, you know. That's  
why this is so hard."  
  
"I am aware of that," Lacroix said coldly. "Do not presume to tell  
me about my son's feelings for me. They are quite clear, and  
need no interpretation."  
  
"No, of course not." Natalie crossed to her desk, and sat down  
behind it, and caught herself staring at the rose. "Lacroix." He  
turned at the door, that quizzical, mildly questioning look on his  
face. "Don't think this means that _I_ don't hate you. You've hurt  
too many people I care about - including Nick - for me to  
forgive you for them any sooner than you've managed to  
forgive Nick for Fleur's death...  But that won't stop me from  
keeping my promises. It's too important that Nick have this  
chance to come back to humanity for me to jeopardize it by  
letting my feelings get in the way."  
  
"Understood." Lacroix nodded casually. "And you know of  
course, that I could care less about your opinion." He smiled, a  
hard, even line of derision, then said, "But it is so nice to have  
things out in the open, isn't it?" He opened the door and tilted  
his head to her in a nod of understanding. "Do have a happy  
Valentine's Day, Natalie. By this time next week, I will have  
informed Nicholas of his release from his obligations.  Good  
night." Then he was gone.  
  
Natalie laced her fingers together and rested her forehead on  
top of them. It wasn't a lot. But it was something. A chance.  
Breathing space for Nick to regain his equilibrium. The break he  
needed to get on his feet, and focus again on their goal. Maybe it  
would be enough.  
  
And if nothing else, she'd had the satisfaction of telling Lacroix  
what she thought of him, and lay some of her own ghosts to  
rest. It would have been worth it for that alone. Opening her  
eyes, she straightened in her chair and picked up the rose from  
the desk. Methodically, with shaky fingers, she shredded it petal  
by petal into the wastebasket.  
  
*       *       *  
FINI  
  
Comments, compliments, complaints, curses, confusion ->  
VQRW76A@prodigy.com  
  
Christina       Mercenarius Infinitus
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