Title:       Ghosts
Author:      DCE aka ViciousGurl
Email:       geek-tastic AT gmx DOT com
Archive:     Okay to archive on www.fkfanfic.com , all others must 
             ask permission.
Disclaimers: This is a FK/HL xover. All the FK characters and concept 
             belong to TriStar, Inc. and the HL characters and 
             concept belong to Davis/Panzer Productions, Inc. No 
             infringement is intended. I've also included a couple of 
             lines from Jane Austen's novel 'Pride and Prejudice' 
             which to the best of my knowledge is in the public 
             domain. The rest of the cast and this story are created 
             and copyrighted by me. 
Feedback:    I'd love to hear from you guys. <hint><hint> 

Many thanks to my beta readers who volunteered to help without
knowing exactly what they were getting themselves into.<g> Robert
and Tracey, your help is greatly appreciated. Thank you.

This is a sequel to 'What Future?' which can be found on my web page 
at http://www.dlc.fi/~dce/fic/index.html


GHOSTS
by DCE aka ViciousGurl
<geek-tastic AT gmx DOT com>
(c)2000


Year 2112 

The sun was shining high above their heads and even though he wore
protective gear Seth still had to screw up his eyes against its
brightness. He wasn't used to such glaring light. Frankly, the only
reason he ever saw the sun at all was because his mother insisted
that he stay up during the day at least once a month. He supposed he
ought to be used to these Wednesdays by now. The first Wednesday of
the month was always the day filled with "fun and sun". They had been
a part of his life for as long as he could remember but still the
sun's flare always caught him by surprise. Somewhat glumly, Seth had
long ago come to the conclusion that he definitely liked these day
excursions better when it was cloudy or rainy.

"Seth, don't lag too much behind."

Mom. She was always keeping close tabs on him when they went out
during the day. It was kind of embarrassing, actually. He was almost
sixteen now and quite capable of taking care of himself. As if to
assure himself of that Seth clutched his MAK5-PDW a little tighter.
It was still the children's model. He'd pleaded with his parents for
them to get him the real thing but mom had insisted that it would
still be too heavy for him. It wasn't, of course. Seth knew that
because he had tried one at a friend's place and he'd been able to
hold a steady aim even with the extra weight. That fact hadn't been
enough to convince his mom, of course. She'd still maintained that if
he had to run long distances the extra weight would slow him down.

Watching his mother as she marched just ahead, effortlessly carrying
her own MAK9-PDW on her shoulder, Seth still didn't agree with her
decision. Yes, he was still relatively young but he was already
taller than her. And no one ever questioned *her* capabilities when
it came to running around with the extra weight the weapon provided.

Grudgingly, Seth had to admit that wasn't the crux of things, really.
His mother may have been small of stature but she was also Immortal.
Literarily. And she'd been trained and hardened by years and years,
decades, of experience in taking care of herself, of surviving
against all kinds of odds.

Still, Seth really wanted a MAK9-PDW of his own. He knew that his
MAK5-PDW was nearly as effective, the only real difference between
the two weapons was the size and weight, but that wasn't the point.
The point was that his best friend, Benoit, had gotten one just two
weeks ago. And Benoit was a month *younger* than he was.

"If you want, we can take a shortcut back home from here."

His mother's voice interrupted Seth's thoughts. Shrugging, he paused
to take a sip from his canteen. It really was a hot day.

"Seth?"

Not hearing an answer, his mother had turned to stare at him with a
question in her gray eyes, trying to gauge out his mood.

Shrugging again, Seth tried not to show his anxiousness. "Okay."

Instead of turning around and taking the proposed shortcut his mother
continued to contemplate him. Seth knew that look. It meant she was
on to him, that she knew why he was in such a wonderful mood. They'd
be talking about it once they got back home. Then, when she was
finally done inspecting him, she turned around and headed towards the
shortcut.

They hadn't taken more than a dozen paces when the gunfire erupted
around them. Diving for the nearest cover Seth swung his MAK5-PDW up
and tried to determine where the shooters were hiding. Across the
street, his mother was already busy returning the fire. Then, Seth
finally spotted one of the shooters who was less than sixty paces
away from them. As Seth took aim and prepared to fire, the shooter
was dropped out of sight. Mom had taken him out.

Spying for another target Seth was beginning to get an idea of just
how bad their situation was. There were at least six shooters left
still, and despite his mother's fire they were getting closer by the
minute.

Mom had obviously came to the same conclusion as she took time to
shout out instructions at him.

"Seth! On my mark, run!"

Nodding, Seth adjusted the sling of his MAK5-PDW, and waited.

"NOW!"

As soon as his mother shouted the word Seth was running for all he
was worth, suddenly very glad that the MAK5-PDW was the lighter
model. He didn't pause to try and spy glances behind himself, secure
in the knowledge that his mother was covering him. Only once the
sounds behind him began to dim somewhat, did he allow himself to slow
down a little.

Seth knew better than to stop and wait around for his mother, though;
she'd get back in her own good time. No. He did exactly what his
parents had told him to do in a situation like this one. First, to go
to a crowded place. It wouldn't afford a complete safety but it was
better than trying to hide. Then, to contact his family. If he
couldn't get a hold of his parents he should try to reach Uncle Nick
or Aunt Natalie. And finally, to wait for instructions.

As soon as he arrived at a market place he felt was suitably crowded,
Seth whipped out his PCD, Personal Communications Device, and pressed
a button. Impatiently he waited for his father to answer. When his
face finally appeared on the tiny screen, he allowed himself a small
sigh of relief.

"Dad!"

"Seth? What's wrong?"

Dad always did that, he could smell trouble a mile away. Of course,
one didn't have to be a genius to deduce that something had gone
wrong, otherwise Seth never would've called him at this hour.

"A little bit of trouble. Mom's taking care of it. What do you want
me to do?"

"Do you know who it was?"

"No."

"Were you followed?"

Seth shook his head with a small grin. "No, mom kept them too busy."

"Good. You better come back home, then. See you in a short while."

Ending the connection Seth grinned at this father's parting words.
Without saying as much he'd just told him to get his butt straight
home, no dilly-dallying at the market place or 'quick' stops at any
of his friends' places.

***

LaCroix was getting worried. It was well past sunset and Antonia
still hadn't returned back home. True, she could take care of herself
but still, she should've been back by now. Or at the very least, she
should've contacted them to make sure that Seth had gotten home
safely.

The war might have been over but even after six years peace was still
subject to relativity. There were small skirmishes along the new
borders almost monthly, and even far within those borders nearly
everyone, young or old, carried weapons with them no matter where
they went; the only place weapons weren't allowed in were churches.

During the war everything had been relatively clean cut. You knew who
your enemy was and you fought accordingly. Now, things were muddier.
With peace, crime had again raised its ugly head with new vigor. Many
of the soldiers returning back home after two decades of war found it
extremely difficult to return back to normal. For them, peace was
anything *but* normal. 'Normal' was being alert even in your sleep.
'Normal' was being dependent only on your firearm and your team
mates, in that order. Normal most definitely didn't include being at
the mercy of welfare coupons, or being crammed into barracks to live
in and having to beg for work - not after they'd died by the millions
for their countries.

Times were hard on everyone but for those who couldn't find their
place within the society, such as it was, there weren't many doors
left open. After the peace treaty, both the Alliance and the
Federation had found out just how little that signed piece of paper
had truly meant out in the real world. True, the borders were a
little quieter but now they had to find a way to effectively fight
against internal conflicts. Not so small bands of renegades, gangs
and just plain soldiers of fortune wrecked havoc around most
countries. Some of them did it for the money, others just for the
hell of it. Whatever their motives, 'peace' was still simply a nice
word on a paper archived in some government vault.

Checking the time yet again LaCroix decided that it was time to send
out the search party.

Calling out for his son, he threw on a black leather jacket and
grabbed his SLP4, Self-loading Laser Pistol. Yes, even his kind
carried weapons these days. They didn't necessarily depend upon them
but an old-fashioned bullet or a laser was a lot easier to explain
than fangs if one had to act within the sight of any witnesses.


In less than an hour LaCroix and Seth reached the scene where Seth
had last seen Antonia.

"Are you sure this is the place?" LaCroix turned his blue gaze
towards his son who was fidgeting behind him.

As if he would've forgotten where he'd almost been killed just hours
before! Seth felt like rolling his eyes but knew better than to
indulge himself right then. "Yes, positive."

Falling silent yet again, LaCroix scanned the area. Besides a few
smears of blood which he could tell for certain weren't Antonia's he
couldn't find anything amiss. Carefully proceeding along the street
he tried to think of what his wife might have done. She would take
out as many of her attackers as she could before trying to break out.
Maybe she...

His musings came to a halt as he got a whiff of something familiar.
Narrowing his eyes, LaCroix took a few steps forward and knelt to
sweep away some of the trash on the ground. Beneath the garbage he
found the source of the smell he had detected. Dried blood. Antonia's
blood.

Scanning the area with renewed purpose LaCroix hoped to find
something which would tell him exactly what had happened here earlier
but in the end, he had to succumb to defeat. Besides the blood there
was nothing else to be found.

***

Days passed and there was no sign of mom.

Seth did his best to stay out of his father's way and be of as little
trouble as possible. It wasn't that hard, really. His father spent
most of his time outside, looking for mom and when he was at home he
seemed to hardly notice his son.

Tempting as it might have seemed, Seth didn't even try to take
advantage of the situation. First and foremost, he was way too
worried about his mother to kid around. Secondly, distracted as his
father sometimes seemed to be Seth knew from experience that nothing
really escaped his attention. Besides, his father had arranged so
that he wasn't wholly without supervision even if he himself was busy
with his investigation. Uncle Nick and Aunt Natalie had practically
moved in after mom's disappearance. While their rules weren't nearly
as stern as those of his parents, they wouldn't stand for any
outright rebellion, either.

Seth sometimes thought it was funny how people made assumptions based
purely on appearances. When strangers looked at his parents, what
they usually saw was a somewhat mismatched couple; a tall and strong
man who, even when he tried to look benign, seemed vaguely
threatening and a small, pretty woman with serious, gray eyes. That's
why everyone always assumed that his father was the strict one but in
reality it was the other way around. Dad might cut him some slack
every now and then but mom was a real stickler for curfews and such.

Take that PCD incident for example. All the children's models came
with in-built tracking devices but especially the older models had
been easy enough to mess with. When mom had found out what he and his
friends had been up to she hadn't said a word. She'd simply bought
him a new one, the latest model which wasn't as easy to tamper with.
And after she'd been done with modifications of her own the range of
the tracking device had been doubled and the PCD itself had been
secured so that it would've taken a true professional to break the
coding.


"Seth, dinner's ready!"

His musings were interrupted by Aunt Natalie's holler from the
kitchen.

"Yeah, be there in a sec!"

Seth finished the log entry he'd been writing and turned off his
computer.

He remembered the Wednesday his mother had disappeared. He'd been in
such a lousy mood. Now he hoped that he had behaved himself. He hoped
that his mother would return, so that her last memory of him wouldn't
be of that awful day. He would've even gladly spent a whole week in
the sun if only his mother had returned.

Seth knew why his mother was so adamant on making him spend some time
in the daylight. It was so that when the time came he could make a
choice based on facts. So that he'd know that his future wasn't set,
that there was an alternative, if he wanted one.

Ever since he'd been old enough to understand Seth had known that one
day he, too, would become what, with the exception of his mother,
everyone else in his family was. A vampire. His parents had discussed
the matter with him a few times but even before they had approached
the subject he'd known that that was what he wanted to become.

But even though he'd made it perfectly clear for both of them that he
was more than eager to follow the family tradition his parents had
been equally clear that any action into that direction would have to
wait until he was old enough. In the meantime, mom had made it her
mission to subject him to daylight 'just so he'd know what he'd be
giving up'. Like he needed a reminder. He'd lived his whole life
surrounded by immortal creatures and he knew exactly what the
differences between them and the mortal world were.

But right now, he'd welcome any one of his mothers lectures if only
she'd come back soon.

***

The end of the war had done nothing to diminish the number of people
who still went missing every day, never to be heard from again. And
in most events those cases still didn't make the headlines. MPD, The
Missing Persons Division, was overworked, understaffed and not well
appreciated by the public at large. They did what they could with the
resources available to them, but the truth was that their success
rate left a lot to be desired.

LaCroix had filed a missing person report but he wasn't expecting any
results on that front. Instead, he'd done what anyone who could
afford it would've done, he'd hired some very capable people to find
his wife. Plus he had certain less conventional, but infinitely more
effective resources to draw from. And all that was merely in addition
to the work he undertook for himself.

Time was of the essence. LaCroix didn't need his investigators, or
Nick, to tell him that the more time passed by the less likely it was
that Antonia would ever be found. Much less even for her to be found
alive. Even so, he refused to believe that she was dead. She might
not have been connected to him via a vampiric link but he was certain
that somehow he'd know if she was truly gone.

LaCroix could still remember another time Antonia had gone missing.
But back then he'd had something to go on with, a solid clue, and in
the end he'd found her. This time, there was nothing. Not one thing
to point the way. Until on the eighth day when he got a message from
one of his investigators.


As he hurried towards the address he'd been given LaCroix did his
best to kill his imagination.

Normally, LaCroix wouldn't have even bothered to check out a dead
body, in secure knowledge that it couldn't possibly be Antonia's, but
this particular body had reportedly been found with its head missing.

As he finally arrived to the City Morgue LaCroix was met with his
investigator.

Ms. Morris was a middle aged war veteran who'd survived to tell the
tale. After the war she'd hoped to get some peace and quiet but the
world being what it was she'd found that 'peace' wasn't all that it
was cracked up to be. When she'd returned home she'd found, like so
many others, that there was no home left to return to. The area she'd
lived in before the war had been completely wiped out. Without a
place to stay and without a job she'd spent two years in VC, a so
called Veterans' Camp. VC was supposed to help the vets to adjust
back to peaceful times but Ms. Morris had found the camp to be of
little help, so she'd finally packed her things and for the first
time in two years taken initiative. She'd liked the feeling.

Taking stock of her skills and what was going on in the world she'd
figured that her best shot was to become a sort of hired hand. Not to
eliminate people for someone else but to make a difference in a way
that would actually matter. Since the day she'd set up her 'Lost and
Found Agency' she'd never been out of work. A fact which was telling
in and of itself. But no matter how depressing her job sometimes got
she had found a purpose other than just survival, and that felt
pretty good to her. And most of her clients agreed with her in that
answers, no matter how depressing, were better than not knowing.


"Mr. LaCroix, before we go inside I have something else I'd like you
to take a look at."

Digging through the huge pockets of her coat Ms. Morris drew out a
plastic bag containing a black PCD.

"I found this not too far from the body." Handing the bag to her
client she kept her voice neutral. "Do you recognize it, Mr.
LaCroix?"

Not caring if he was messing with evidence, LaCroix took the PCD out
of the bag and pushed a couple of its buttons. The smoldering piece
of coal which had settled in his stomach as soon as he'd gotten Ms.
Morris' message earlier burst into flames.

"Yes, it belongs to my wife."

With a slow, sympathetic nod Ms. Morris then led him to a small but
well aired room. On a steel table in the middle of it lay a sheet
covered body.

After a small silence during which neither of them moved, LaCroix
turned to his investigator. "Could I have a moment, Ms. Morris?"

Ms. Morris, who had gone through this very scene often enough to
understand the need for privacy at a time like this, nodded. "Of
course. I'll be waiting just outside the door if you'll need me, Mr.
LaCroix."

When the door closed behind her LaCroix turned his attention back to
the body lying on the table. Despite the effective air-conditioning
he could still tell that the person underneath the sheet had been
dead for several days already. But beneath the smell of death and
decay there was still something left of the individual, unique smell
every person has. And it wasn't a familiar one.

Lifting the sheet to affirm what he already knew LaCroix took a look
at the body. A body whose description certainly matched that of
Antonia's but still wasn't hers. Not hers.

***

The PCD Ms. Morris had found gave everyone new hope. It was something
tangible, solid proof, a lead - to nowhere.

What had seemed like a new break in the case had turned out to be yet
another dead end. Even Nick and Natalie had made their own inquiries
but those, too, had revealed nothing new. It was as if Antonia had
simply vanished into thin air.


"It's been four weeks, LaCroix." Natalie's voice was neutral, but her
meaning was clear enough.

"And what is four weeks?" LaCroix's blue eyes channeled a glacier.
"Centuries are less than a blink of an eye for us, and you suggest
that I'd give up on her after four weeks?!"

Natalie didn't even twitch in front of his wrath. Instead, she
continued steadily. "No, I'm not suggesting anything of the sort. I
am merely reminding you that you are not the only one missing her.
You have a son, LaCroix. A son who's still dependent on you, who
needs you. And right now, you're not there for him."

The temperature in LaCroix tone dropped another notch. "And you are
forgetting yourself, my dear Natalie. How I raise my son is none of
your concern."

"That's where you're wrong, LaCroix." Natalie's voice trembled a
little with righteous anger of her own. "It became my concern when I
found him crying alone in his room. Or when I was the only one he
dared turn to to ask if I believed that his mother was still alive.
It became my concern when he had to choose to put aside his own needs
in fear of disturbing you!"

"My son has never feared me in his whole life", LaCroix hissed, more
than a little disturbed by what he'd just heard but unwilling to let
it show.

"Well, he's certainly been low-maintenance as far as you've been
concerned these past weeks. When was the last time he came to you
asking for anything, even attention?" Natalie asked, raising her
brows in a dare.

That gave LaCroix a pause. Silently, he agreed that he hadn't perhaps
been quite as attentive to his son's needs as he could have been, but
there was no way he would ever admit that to Natalie.

His reply was cool and unconcerned. "If there was a problem you
should've brought it to my attention right away and not wait for your
own convenience." Then he once again pierced his daughter with his
cold eyes and added a hint of menace into his voice. "You are my
creation, Natalie, you would do well not to forget it."


However, later that evening LaCroix consciously pushed aside all the
thoughts of what he *could* be doing to find his wife and instead
concentrated on what he *should* be doing for his son.

For the very first time since Antonia had disappeared he discussed it
all with Seth, explaining to him what he had been doing and what he
hoped to do during the next few days. He also encouraged Seth to
bring out his own ideas and listened to him as he talked about his
mother. While he listened to Seth he realized that was what the boy
had most craved for, a chance to talk about Antonia with someone who
loved her as much as he did, with someone who'd understand what he
was going through, to reaffirm his hope that his mother would indeed
be found - alive.

Afterwards they both felt a little bit better if somewhat exhausted,
all those emotions had taken their toll. But as they sat down to have
a meal together for the first time in weeks, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Mr. LaCroix?"

"Yes?"

"This is Lieutenant Alvarez from the MPD. We believe we may have
found your wife, sir."

***

They were called Ghost Houses and their inhabitants were commonly
referred to as ghosts. They were government funded centers for the
mentally ill or insane, although most of the inhabitants in them now
were war vets who suffered from shell shock.

LaCroix had seen places like this before. They were mostly clean
enough but they only offered the bare essentials for survival. There
were big dormitories for the patients to sleep in and a so called
activity area which was where the patients spent their days. There
rarely were any planned or scheduled activities except for lunch and
dinner. Ghost Houses truly deserved their name; they were places
where the living ghosts were stored in and quickly forgotten about.

Spying a uniform clad man near the entrance LaCroix approached him.

"Lieutenant Alvarez?"

"Yes." The man offered his hand to shake. "And you must be Mr.
LaCroix."

Getting an affirming nod from LaCroix Lieutenant Alvarez motioned
ahead. "This way, please."

Following the Lieutenant through endless halls LaCroix was getting
impatient. The sun would be up in a few hours and he couldn't afford
to waste any time if this turned out to be another wild-goose chase.

Then, finally, they reached the activity area. Since it was still
night time the room was empty save a nurse and.. someone else.

"She's been here for five days now, and she still hasn't said a word.
We're not even sure if she understands speech. She hasn't really
reacted to any stimuli after she was found ditched near the road
leading out of the city. She had no ID, no clothes or anything else
that would've told us who she was but she matches the rough
description of your wife."

LaCroix paid almost no attention to Lieutenant Alvarez's monologue as
he got closer to the small bundle huddling quietly on the floor next
to the nurse.

Despite the ill-fitting hospital gown hanging on her, the limp hair
and lifeless expression accompanied by alarmingly hollow cheeks there
was no question about the woman's identity.
 
"Sir, is this your wife?"

"Yes."

***

"What's happened to her?" Natalie voiced the aghast question that was
in all their minds after LaCroix had returned from putting Antonia to
bed.

Antonia's condition in general but especially those vacant, empty
eyes which had looked straight through everyone and everything had
been more than troubling to watch.

"They don't know." LaCroix brushed a hand across his face, it had
been a long and difficult night. To say that it had been shocking to
see his wife so altered would've been a gross understatement. "They
found her five days ago, and she's been like this the whole time."

"She looked like she'd been starved", Nick murmured. The change in
this Antonia and the one he'd seen a little over three weeks ago
was.. disturbing.

"Is she going to be all right?" Seth's quiet voice from the doorway
startled the adults a little. They'd completely forgotten that he'd
been there the whole time, listening and wondering.

LaCroix went over to him and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
"She's going to be fine. We don't know what she has been through but
whatever it is she simply needs a little time, that's all. She's
Immortal. She'll be fine."

Seth's brown eyes searched his father's blues, trying to determine
whether he was really telling the truth or if he was trying to
'protect the child from an ugly reality'. Finally, satisfied with
what he saw, Seth nodded.

"Now, it's getting late. I think you better go get some sleep",
LaCroix suggested.

With one final look at all three adults Seth wished them a
good-night. He knew that they were sending him out of the way so they
could talk about his mother but right then he didn't really mind. It
had been kind of scary to see his usually strong mother act like a --
well, like one of the ghosts, and he needed some time alone.


"Do you really believe in what you just said to Seth, or..?" Nick
asked after the teenager had left.

LaCroix gave him a piercing look. "Of course I believe it. She's
Immortal, why wouldn't she be all right?"

Before Nick could placate his master Natalie spoke up, knitting her
brows in deep thought.

"I think that's only part of the truth, LaCroix. I mean, because
she's Immortal we can safely assume that her condition isn't caused
by anything physical. The malnutrition, I think, is the least of her
problems, and at any rate it's the easiest one to take care of. It's
the rest of it, her mental condition, that worries me."

LaCroix had to agree with everything she'd just said. "So, tell me,
Doctor, what should we do? What *can* we do?"

Surprised, Natalie shook her head. "LaCroix, I haven't practiced in
ages. And at any rate, I was never a psychiatrist and that's what she
needs."

"A psychiatrist?" LaCroix repeated arching his brow. "No. She would
require an *Immortal* psychiatrist and I don't believe there are many
of them around."

Thinking it through, Natalie had to agree with him. "Tell you the
truth, I'm not sure even one of them could help. Not when she's this
unresponsive."

"Then, what you are saying is that there is *nothing* we can do?"
There was suddenly barely concealed rage in LaCroix's voice.

"No!" Natalie hurried to assure him. "I think that you were right
when you said to Seth that she just needs a little time. I think it's
entirely possible that whatever trauma has caused this... Being back
at home in familiar setting, surrounded by familiar people, all that
may well be the only medicine she'll need."

"Time?" LaCroix repeated, thoughtfully.

"It's not inconceivable", Natalie said carefully, before gently
reminding him, "But, it is also possible that time alone won't be
enough. It really is impossible to predict one way or the other,
especially since we have no idea what happened to her."

"I think that's --"

Whatever Nick had been about to say it was suddenly cut by a blood
freezing scream.

"Antonia", LaCroix breathed, and then all three of them were
scurrying in the same direction.

When they reached the bedroom they found Antonia in the throes of a
massive nightmare. She was screaming and flailing with her arms,
trying to free herself underneath a tangled blanket.

LaCroix stepped closer and reached for her shoulder, trying to awaken
her. But the second he touched her, the screaming doubled in volume,
her vocal cords nearly popping from the strain.

Withdrawing his hand as if he'd been burned LaCroix watched his wife
helplessly, desperation taking over briefly. Then, he grabbed
Antonia's blanket, careful not to touch her, and pulled it off of her
in one swift move. He didn't know whether it was the removal of the
restraining blanket or the sudden roll over she took as a result but
whatever the reason, her screaming stopped as suddenly as it had
began just a moment ago.

"Dad?"

The abrupt, deafening silence was broken by Seth's uncertain whisper.

"Not now, Seth." LaCroix never took his eyes off Antonia. "Leave. All
of you."

His voice was dead calm, and for once all three of his children
obeyed without arguing.

When LaCroix heard the door close after them he sat gingerly on the
bed beside Antonia and gently brushed aside a few stray strands of
chestnut hair. At the light contact she furrowed her brows slightly
but didn't wake up or show any other signs of distress.

Studying her sleeping countenance LaCroix leaned in closer, murmuring
soft, reassuring words and hoped that what he was about to do
wouldn't scare her into a screaming fit again. Carefully, he took her
right hand into his own and dropped a soft kiss just above her palm,
on the sensitive skin of her inner wrist where her pulse throbbed so
close to the surface. Then, gently as he could, he bit into that
tender flesh.

First, all he could sense was a dull emptiness. The all disguising
mist was so unlike what he'd ever tasted from her blood that for a
second he was worried that was all there was left of her spirit, of
the essence which made her Antonia. But then his conscious mind was
filled with images in such rapid succession that he couldn't keep up
with them. There were hundreds, thousands of them, each more hideous
than the last one. When he at last was able to begin to make any
sense of them all he could feel was terrible, dreadful pain. Her
pain. And above all the images, all the pain, hovered a symbol which
was the cause for her destruction.

*

"What do you think is happening there?" Seth asked, stealing glances
at the bedroom's direction.

Nick and Natalie shared a quiet look, wishing that they'd have an
answer for his question. They didn't get anything from their link to
LaCroix and even their supernatural hearing was of no help. And then,
without a warning, they got their wish, thousandfold.

A terrible scream which turned into an anguished roar filled the
silent apartment and a pain, so unbelievably intense that they
actually forgot to breath, filled both Nick and Natalie's minds. Seth
went white as a sheet as the horrible sound scared the living
daylights out of him. None of them knew what to do but at the sound
of breaking glass they all hurried back to the bedroom.

They found Antonia still sound asleep and a broken window, but there
was no sign of LaCroix. And then, even his link with Nick and Natalie
was closed off so abruptly that they nearly stumbled at the
unexpected loss of connection.

***

LaCroix didn't return until the next night.

He didn't offer any explanations of where he'd been or what he had
done, but he was filled with a newfound purpose. He was once again on
familiar ground, sure of himself, and he knew exactly what he was
after. Revenge.


"She *begged* them to kill her, Nicholas!" LaCroix snarled. "Do you
have ANY idea what they must've done to her for her to beg them to
take her head?!"

They were all gathered in the living-room again. Nick hadn't thought
it was such a good idea for Seth to be there when LaCroix filled them
in on Antonia's missing weeks but LaCroix had insisted that he be
present as well.

"They used all the latest persuasive technology available. The
Nightcrawlers sometimes made good use of just such devises. The more
sophisticated models allow you to question the subject over an
unlimited period of time without fear of the subject ever loosing
consciousness. Extremely effective." LaCroix's voice had changed from
passionate to impassive, he was almost in a lecture mode.

"Of course, when you have an Immortal subject in your hands all that
wouldn't be nearly enough. Why waste such a golden opportunity to go
all the way, so to speak? Of course, they didn't. And so, they killed
her over and over and over again." LaCroix was quickly losing his
impassionate tone until in the end he was practically hissing again.

"When it finally surpassed what she could take she simply shut down,
disconnecting herself from what they did to her. And she's still
locked there, trapped somewhere inside her mind."

When he finished there was a heavy silence as the rest of them tried
to digest everything he'd told them. LaCroix thought that Seth looked
a little green around the edges but he didn't regret for having the
boy there. No, it was important that Seth knew what had happened, he
was old enough to face reality. Besides, LaCroix wanted his son to
know, for any possible future encounters, exactly who the enemy was.


"But why didn't they kill her in the end? Why let her go?" Natalie
finally broke the silence.

"She wanted to die. Why give her the one thing she'd welcome? And
keep in mind that at the end of it she was a ghost. An Immortal
ghost." LaCroix paused to let all the implications sink in. "It
couldn't have been better even if they'd planned it. It was perfect."

Nick had listened to the exchange silently but there was something
that kept nagging at him. "You keep saying 'they'. Do you know who
did this?"

There was almost a beatific smile on LaCroix's face. "Oh yes."

When no further answer was immediately forthcoming, Nick prodded him.
"Well?"

"The Watchers, my dear Nicholas, the Watchers."

Finally there was something Seth could wrap his mind around. "You
mean those tattooed guys you told me about?"

"The very same."

"But, I thought they were just supposed to watch Immortals, not kill
them." Seth sounded puzzled.

"Yes", LaCroix replied. "That is what they are supposed to do.
However, not all of them are content with merely keeping their
records. Some of them are quite convinced that the only good Immortal
is a dead Immortal."

"I thought the Watchers didn't know about her", Nick said after a
small pause.

LaCroix's voice was smooth as steel. "So did we."

"Well, I didn't think there were any Watchers left", Natalie said.
"Their whole work, their *existence*, is based on the archives and
records they keep. Most national records suffered substantial damages
during the war, how could theirs have not?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way. Never forget that. There's
always a way", LaCroix answered, echoing the words someone else had
said to him, a very long time ago. "Remember, they have been around
for centuries, and they've met with wars before."

"But the Watcher organization is a huge one, or at least it used to
be", Nick reminded him. "It would be impossible to go after them
all."

"Don't worry about that, Nicholas. When the time comes, I'll
recognize them." LaCroix's smile didn't warm the arctic blue of his
eyes.

"I've seen their faces."

***

Seth was glad that his mother had been found, naturally. But somehow,
seeing her in that almost catatonic state was nearly as bad as having
her missing.

His parents had always been invincible.

Or, that's what Seth had invariably believed. Yes, he knew there were
certain ways to kill even them but he'd never really believed that
anyone ever could. They were unbeatable. Invincible.

And now, suddenly, they no longer weren't, and it shook him to the
core.

His mother was back home, but she wasn't *mom*, anymore. She'd sit
where seated and wouldn't walk away unless led by the hand. She
couldn't eat unless fed or take a bath unless bathed. And she never
showed any reaction, no matter what they tried; whispering into her
ear, sudden loud noises, blinking light right in front of her eyes.
Nothing worked. For all points and purposes she was like a blind,
deaf and mute little baby trapped in an adult body.

Both his father and Aunt Natalie had told him that mom just needed a
little time. But after he'd heard his father tell them what had
happened to his mom, Seth wasn't so sure that she'd ever come back.
What those creeps had done to her.. No wonder she'd shut off.

Dad and Aunt Natalie had also said that even though mom didn't seem
to react to much of anything she could still hear just fine. They'd
said that if they all talked to her their voices might help bring her
back. And Seth had tried it but he felt pretty stupid talking aloud
when no one ever answered him.


The past few weeks had been pretty rough but Seth found that he no
longer felt quite as ill at ease around his mother as he'd done right
at the beginning. He'd even figured out a way to talk to her without
feeling too strange; he just waited until he was alone with her, with
everyone else gone out. That way, it didn't matter how dumb he
sounded because he was the only one to really hear it.

By necessity he'd had to be alone quite a bit lately. Most nights his
father was gone, hunting down the Watchers. Uncle Nick and Aunt
Natalie came by often enough but they had their jobs to take care of
as well. Besides, if he grew tired of his own company he could always
call up one of his friends.

But Seth didn't really mind being alone that much. He was an avid
reader and he loved writing, so he used the time to immerse himself
into the latest adventures of Cadet Blackwell and writing time travel
stories. He wasn't really sure why he was so interested in time
travel but he suspected that it might've had something to do with the
stories his dad had told him when he was little. Most of them had
been set in ancient Rome but some of them had been about Immortals.
He'd loved them all, even the ones which frightened him so much he
couldn't go to sleep after hearing them.

Mom's bedtime stories on the other hand had always been fairy-tales,
stories that her mom had told her when she'd been a little girl.
They'd been fun in their own way but Seth would much rather have
heard of vampires and Immortals. Sure, she'd told him about Immortals
and what they did, but they had all been just the basic facts; she'd
never been one to reminisce her old battles.

Seth remembered that when he'd been little he had been much more
impressed by vampires than Immortals. All Immortals ever seemed to do
was practice a lot with their swords for fights that never came to
be. But vampires, now they were something else. They were strong and
powerful, and they had the fangs. For some reason he'd been truly
fascinated by them at one time; he'd been forever asking his dad to
show him again how they grew so fast.

However, one night instead of spinning a new bedtime story for him
his father had told him about Immortals. First, he'd shocked him by
saying that mom was really the only true immortal in the family. He'd
reminded him that all vampires, no matter how powerful, were born
mortal and then later brought across by someone. But his mother had
been born Immortal.

Then dad had told him the kind of stories about Immortals his mother
would never in a million years have repeated to him. Like the story
of how she and someone called Connor MacLeod had been ambushed by a
few rogue Immortals who hadn't been fighting by the rules. Or, the
one in which she had taken the head of a self-appointed 'priestess'
who'd thought that her destiny had been to rule the world.

After a bunch of stories of such adventures extraordinaire, Seth had
never again thought that Immortals weren't as cool as vampires.

***

"Seth went over to Benoit's, so it's just you and me tonight, my
dear", LaCroix said, brushing Antonia's long hair, patiently solving
out all tangles until her hair shone.

She'd gained back most of the weight she'd lost and she looked much
better than she had just six weeks ago. Otherwise, there hadn't
really been much improvement in her condition but LaCroix wasn't
about to give up.

"It's a beautiful night out there tonight, you'd like it. What do you
say if we took a little spin around the town?"

Dropping a small kiss on Antonia's temple LaCroix set aside the brush
and led her to the balcony. Draping her in a huge poncho he gathered
her into his arms and took to the air.

The night was clear and just a little bit crispy, just the way
Antonia had always liked it best. LaCroix flew them over the area
around their home, slowing down here and there to take a closer look
at something interesting. And all the while he kept on a steady
narrative of what he saw, pointing out familiar landmarks, in a hope
that the familiar sensation of flying combined with his voice would
bring Antonia that much closer to waking up.

When they returned back home an hour later he fed, and then heated up
some soup for her.

"I contacted some of the old Nightcrawlers last night", LaCroix told
Antonia as he slowly spoon-fed her. "You remember Lieutenant Ramos,
don't you? Of course you do, she was there when we found Seth. Did
you know that she made it to Major before the war ended? Anyway,
she's coming here along with Lieutenant Hamilton and Captain Dupre.
They're going to help be me with the hunt."

LaCroix had had some help from Nick and Natalie in his pursuit after
the Watchers but he'd needed someone to continue the search during
daylight, as well. The extra help would also enable him to spend some
much needed time with his wife and son.

There weren't many people LaCroix could've turned to for help, not
about the Watchers. Immortals, of course, had been a logical first
choice. And he'd tried, but had ultimately been unable to track down
any of Antonia's surviving Immortal friends. The next best choice
would've normally been creatures of his own kind, but there really
wasn't much of a vampire community to speak of anywhere near them.
And even if there had been a strong community base he still couldn't
have asked or ordered any of the members to help.

It wasn't because some of them might've wondered why Antonia didn't
seem to age; they'd taken care of that small problem long ago.
Actually, the thanks for that one belonged to Natalie. She'd been the
one to mention Dr. Sophia Jurgen and her experiment to Antonia, and
they'd used that excuse to explain away her prolonged 'mortality'
ever since.

No, the reason for no vampires was that this was an Immortal matter,
and there was no mixing the two. Not even for this.

So, the only sensible option left open for him had been the
Nightcrawlers. They could be trusted, absolutely. He and Antonia had
hand-picked each and every one of them, and one of the choosing
criteria had been that none of them be resisters. He could be
positive that they'd do what he told them to and that they'd get the
job done, or die trying.

The soup at last finished, LaCroix cleaned up Antonia and led her to
the living-room. He seated her next to him on the couch, and then
picked up an old book from the table.

"I thought you might like us to continue with this one. I know it has
been a while but I'm sure you remember the beginning of the story."
LaCroix smiled, and began to read.

"Elizabeth had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to
visit her the very day after her reaching Pemberley...."

Jane Austen wasn't his preferred reading material in any shape or
form but 'Pride and Prejudice' happened to be one of Antonia's
favorite novels of all time, so he bravely ploughed on.

Just as Elizabeth and Jane were crying over Lydia's thoughtless
letter Seth called in asking if he could stay at Benoit's through the
coming day.

"...and his parents have given you their permission?" LaCroix
checked.

"Yes."

"Very well, then. *But*", LaCroix hastened to add, "be of no trouble
and remember to mind Mr. and Mrs. Brodeur."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks dad. Bye!"

And before LaCroix had a chance to add any more instructions his son
had ended the connection.

Children. Shaking his head a little at Seth's enthusiasm and
seemingly endless energy, LaCroix returned back to the couch and
resumed his reading.

However, after a couple of more chapters he had to smother a yawn.
Closing the book, he replaced it back on the table, to wait for the
next time.

"Well, my dear, as fascinating as the Bennets are I believe it's time
for your bath now."

Leading Antonia to the bathroom he prepared a warm bath, not
forgetting to add her favorite fragrance to the water and then
quickly undressed her. It had proved to be impossible to get her to
step into the bath for herself so without even trying it first
LaCroix simply swept her off her feet and carefully placed her into
the tub. Then he grabbed the sponge and dipping it into the water
began to glide it along Antonia's pale skin.

"You just sit back and relax. Your only job is to concentrate on
getting better, I'll take care of all the rest."

He kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation throughout the
operation. When he was finished, he tossed the sponge aside and
washed her hair, carefully avoiding getting any shampoo in her eyes.
When she was all cleaned up he wrapped her into a huge pink towel.

As he patted her dry he gazed down at her empty, gray eyes and wished
for the umpteenth time that they'd be filled with their usual sparkle
again, soon. He missed talking to her, really talking, instead of
just filling in the dead air. He missed her sense of humor and the
way she used to tease him. He missed the sound of her voice, the
warmth of her touch... He missed all of her.

Wrapping his arms around her LaCroix drew her closer and rested his
chin against her crown. Sighing, he closed his eyes and stood still,
drinking in Antonia's warmth.

"Hurry back, honey wine. Hurry back."

*

LaCroix awoke to Antonia's scream. She was re-living the torture -
again. Every day she would wake up, crying in agony as the nightmares
plagued her.

It was heart wrenching for LaCroix to listen to her, knowing exactly
what the dreams were all about, and not being able to do anything to
help. By trial and error he had finally found that trying to restrain
or hold her was not the way to go. What seemed to work best in
soothing her was simply talking to her with a quiet, low voice and
gently smoothing down her hair as if she was a frightened child.

"Everything is all right. You're safe now. No one is trying to hurt
you. You're home, safe with us."

Over and over he repeated the litany until she calmed down and
relaxed in peaceful slumber once again.

Sinking back against his own pillow LaCroix found that he himself
wasn't ready to fall back to sleep just yet. Turning on his side he
let instead his eyes rest on Antonia. For the longest time he was
engrossed in admiring his sleeping wife and it was very late indeed
when he at last closed his eyes.

***

Major Ramos, Captain Dupre and Lieutenant Hamilton arrived two days
later. It had been fifteen years since they'd last seen LaCroix but
none of them even thought to wonder about his lack of aging; the
Nightcrawler training they'd received had been for life.

LaCroix might not have aged a bit but his subordinates had. They no
longer were the young and eager 'new kids' they'd been when he'd
first met them. Even so, when he outlined the operation and gave them
their orders it felt as if he'd sent them out on their first mission
only yesterday. But they weren't some wet behind the ears rookies
anymore. Like millions of others, they were seasoned veterans. And
once upon a time, they'd been the best the Allied had had. Right now,
they were the best LaCroix had.


It had been nearly two months since Antonia had been found when they
at long last got their first real break in the Watcher case, quite by
accident.

Captain Dupre had spotted a man with a tattoo while eating his lunch
in one of the new street bars. When the Watcher had finished his own
lunch Dupre had tailed him for the rest of the day, as per his
orders. He'd also contacted General LaCroix who'd alerted the other
two Nightcrawlers. And at nightfall the General himself arrived to
undertake the questioning.


LaCroix recognized the man the second he laid his eyes on him. This..
walking corpse was one of the five men who had captured and tortured
Antonia.

The urge to rip the man's throat open and watch his blood spurt out
was overwhelming, but LaCroix kept himself admirably under control.
He hadn't hunted down these dogs for the past two months simply to
kill them on sight. No. Before any of them would be allowed to die
they would suffer for what they had done to his wife. They would come
to know the meaning of pain - intimately. And before he was finished
with them they would *beg* for death.

So, instead of attacking the man LaCroix smiled at him. The smile
made all three Nightcrawlers shiver inside. They'd seen it before.
But the Watcher who'd received uninvited guests into his supposedly
secure apartment didn't have a clue.

"What the fu..!!"

Grabbing his SLP4 the Watcher pointed it towards the four breakers
in, only to be faced with a smiling demon who somehow, without a
word, rendered him a helpless puppet.

With a wave of his hand LaCroix sent the Nightcrawlers away. They
knew the drill. While he questioned the prisoner they'd search the
place.

The so called interrogation didn't take long. LaCroix knew that he
had his man, it was simply a matter of getting the names of his four
partners. And since the man wasn't a resister getting what he wanted
wasn't much of a challenge.

"Sir", Lieutenant Hamilton called from the bedroom.

Leaving the Watcher into the capable hands of Major Ramos, LaCroix
joined Lieutenant Hamilton who'd hacked into the personal files of
their prisoner.

"I found a file on Colonel Jones, sir", Hamilton said as LaCroix
arrived to the bedroom.

LaCroix leaned in to take a quick glance through the small screen.

"Good." He gave a short nod. "We'll take this with us. Make sure that
we'll also get any and all backups and hard copies he may have."

"Yes, sir."

While Hamilton took care of the main computer Captain Dupre piled up
everything he'd found on a table in the living-room. There were two
MAK9-PDWs, three PCDs, fifteen antique swords and the SLP4 the
Watcher had tried to use before.

"Are these the only swords you found, Captain?" LaCroix asked, taking
inventory.

"There's a small room full of antiques back there, sir", Dupre
answered. "But these were the only swords we could find."

"Leave the MAKs and the SLP", LaCroix ordered as he headed towards
the room Dupre had mentioned. "And prepare the prisoner."

The Captain hadn't exaggerated, the room was indeed a small treasury.
Perhaps he wouldn't destroy the apartment just yet, after all. After
this would all be over the Nightcrawlers might want to take a few
souvenirs, their paycheck for this one last mission.

The room's back wall was piled with paintings, a couple of which
LaCroix recognized from hundreds of years back, and close to them
there were a few marble statues. The rest of the walls were covered
with different kinds of weapons, all of them old and no doubt stolen
from Immortals who'd lost their heads to the Watchers.

As LaCroix was about to leave, something on his left caught his eye.
There, on top of a pile of jewelry sat a white-gold, pear-shaped ruby
ring.

Stepping back in, LaCroix took the ring and delved into the pile of
gold. In a few minutes he'd found what he'd been looking for, a
simple white-gold band. Lifting it he read the inscription, 'There
can be only One'.

When she'd first read it Antonia had found it amusing but also, as
she'd claimed, endearing. Not unlike the reaction he himself had had
upon reading the inscription she'd chosen for him. 'Alea iacta est'.
Unusual choices for wedding bands, perhaps, but fitting.

Pocketing the two rings, he then returned back to the living-room
where he was awaited by his men and the now unconscious Watcher.

"Clear out."

***

Dad had left as soon as the sun had set that evening. The
Nightcrawlers had found a Watcher. At last there was light at the end
of the tunnel.

Seth knew that it was good news regardless of whether this particular
Watcher was the one they'd been looking for or not. As his father had
explained, all Watchers were connected. Even if this wasn't the right
one, he'd know a name which would lead to another name, and so on.

"It won't be long now, mom."

Seth flopped down on the couch and looked at his mother who sat
quietly on the old easy-chair, just as she'd done every day for the
past two months.

If one didn't count the vacant stare she looked exactly the way she
always had. Seth was so accustomed to the fact that his parents
didn't age that he rarely thought of it consciously. But now that he
studied his mother he realized that soon it would be a time for a
change.

Mom was too young looking to really pass as his mother, anymore. Had
been so for a while already, actually. Pretty soon, he'd have to stop
calling her 'mom' in public; he'd become a young cousin they'd taken
in and raised. Or something. That's what Aunt Natalie and Uncle Nick
were always referred to as, dad's cousins.

"Antonia." Seth said it slowly, drawing out the syllables as he tried
out how the name would fit into his mouth.

It sounded strange, odd. Unfamiliar, even. He said the name again but
it still didn't come out naturally. Shaking his head a little in
annoyance Seth then tried out his father's name.

"Lucien."

It didn't sound any more natural than his mother's name had.

Biting his lip, Seth shrugged and then tossed the matter out of his
mind. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

His attention was then turned outside when a flash of lightning
illuminated the night for a few seconds, followed by a crush of
thunder a little later.

Beaming, Seth walked over to the window. He liked thunderstorms, was
fascinated by them, in fact. Had been ever since he'd witnessed his
first Quickening.

He'd been eleven years old.


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Flashback ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Year 2108


The fair-haired man had appeared from nowhere. One minute there'd
been no sign of him and the next he was just standing there, holding
a long, hand-and-a-half sword.

"Paul." Mom didn't sound the least bit surprised at seeing him.

The man grinned. "Thought you'd never see me again, did you Jones?"

Seth watched as his mother slowly set down her MAK9-PDW and pulled
out her shamshir.

"The boy has nothing to do with this", she said nodding towards him.
"Let me send him home, and then we can get on with this."

"Sorry, darling, but I'm all out of favors." Paul shook his head,
keeping that nasty little smile of his in place.

Seth could see his mother's eyes harden but she didn't say anything
else to the man. Instead, she addressed him.

"Seth, you see those crumbled walls behind us?" At his nod she
continued. "I want you to go there. It used to be a church, so you'll
be safe there. You remember what I told you about Holy Ground, don't
you?"

"Yeah. But, mom..."

But Antonia paid no heed to his protestations. "You won't leave those
ruins until I come get you. If I won't be there in twenty minutes,
call your father and wait for him. What ever happens, you'll stay put
until one of us comes for you, is that understood?"

When his mother used that tone of voice Seth knew it was best to
obey.

"Yes, ma'am."

Just for a moment she took her eyes off the man and turned to look at
him. He saw her eyes soften, just a little, and she gave him a quick
smile.

"Go on, Seth. It'll be all right."

And then her full attention was back on the man with the bastard
sword.

With one last look at his mother, Seth took off towards the old
church.

He'd never met another Immortal before but he hadn't been scared of
Paul, not really. But when he reached the ruins and turned back to
see what was happening, the reality of it all suddenly hit him.

Seth had seen his mother practice with her sword, he was used to it.
But until now, he'd never really seen her fight against someone.
Well, she'd practiced with dad every now and then but that had been
play-acting.

He remembered all the stories his father had told him and for a
moment Seth felt a surge of excitement. But when he saw Paul's blade
slice the air just millimeters off his mothers throat his mouth
suddenly went dry with fear. This was no longer play-acting.

There were moments when Seth wanted to look away but he couldn't make
his head turn or his eyes close. A few times he tried to shout a
warning at his mother but there was something wrong with his throat
and all that came out was a wheezing sound as he struggled to breath.

And then, after what seemed like a really long time, Seth saw one of
the fighters go down. It was dark, and for a panicked moment he
thought it was his mother, but then he saw a flash of a familiar
blade as it sliced through the fallen one's neck.

Mom had won! It was all Seth could think of, until he realized what
he'd just witnessed. Mom had just cut off that guy's head!

But before he could decide whether to be jubilant or grossed out,
Seth realized that it wasn't over, yet.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"I was just scared stiff, mom." Seth smiled a little as he relived
the moment. "But I guess you knew that."

For a few days afterwards his parents inconspicuously hadn't left out
of his sight, cuddling and humoring him just a little more than they
usually did.

"Dad once told me that until I saw a Quickening with my own eyes I
wouldn't believe how incredible it really is. And you know what? He
was right. I mean, yeah, I'd never been so scared in my life when you
were just lifted up. I knew you couldn't fly like dad but there you
were, hovering in the air and there were these lights and... It was
amazing. I was terrified but I'd never seen anything so cool in my
life!"

Turning away from the window Seth looked at his mother. For a moment
there, in his mind, he'd seen her as she'd been before and the sight
of her silent form brought him down in a crash.

Studying her, he wondered if she really could hear him, if she was at
all aware. Running his hand through his blond hair Seth furrowed his
brows in sudden anger. If she could hear them, why wasn't she coming
back? She'd been like that forever already, how much time did she
need?

Then, he remembered what his father had told them, and he was ashamed
of his thoughts. It wasn't her fault.

But maybe, if she only tried a *little* harder...

Without a warning, Seth felt tears stinging behind his eyelids and he
blinked furiously, trying to make them go away. He wasn't some baby
who would start crying for no reason.

Crouching down in front of his mother, Seth tried to peer into her
eyes, willing her to see him, to see some spark of recognition.

"Come on, mom, wake up. You can do it. You cut off people's heads,
this is much easier than that, a piece of cake." Those damn tears
were threatening him again, and he had to pause to swallow a little
lump down his throat. "Please, mom. I know you can do it."

And then those pesky tears refused to be ignored any longer and they
began to fall down his cheeks. Some of them dropped on his mothers
hands which were clutched in her lap. For a moment Seth allowed
himself simply to feel, everything that had been in his mind since
his mother's disappearance. All of it, the fear and the anger just
came out in a rush, and he let it. Seth didn't know how much time had
passed but gradually the tears began to slow down. Wiping his face,
Seth felt marginally better but he was glad that no one else had been
at home to witness his breakdown.

With a final look at his mother he got up and went to blow his nose.
He didn't talk to her again for the rest of the night.

***

Turning off the shower, LaCroix calculated in his mind how long it
would take the Nightcrawlers to find the four Watchers. Not very
long, if they knew what was good for them.

Tossing on a black robe, LaCroix padded back into the bedroom.
Pausing at the door-way he watched as Antonia turned on the bed and
felt the mattress beside her.

Knitting his brows, it took LaCroix a moment to realize what was
wrong with that picture; Antonia hadn't moved unassisted since her
disappearance, not even in her sleep.

As he continued to watch he saw Antonia turn again, and then, he saw
the most amazing, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life
- Antonia opened her eyes, and smiled at him.

"Morning." Her voice cracked a little as it hadn't been used for a
while, but to LaCroix's ears it sounded wonderful.

He looked at how she stretched out, luxuriating in the sensation, and
then relaxed again against the pillows.

Only then, did it register with him that she had at long last truly
woken up, not only from her sleep but from the locked depths of her
mind.

In half a heartbeat he was beside her, clutching her against his
chest, holding onto her for dear life. He couldn't stop whispering
how much he'd missed her and how much he loved her as he kept rocking
her gently back and forth, his head buried in the crook of her neck.

"Uh, I missed you, too." Antonia smiled, returning his embrace even
if she was a little unsure of what exactly was going on.

She waited for him to let go of her but instead, he began to speak
softly in what sounded like Latin to her, but since she didn't
understand Latin she couldn't make heads or tales of what he was
murmuring. And throughout it all he kept on holding her, ever
tighter, until she began to get a little worried.

"Lucien, honey, has something happened? Are you all right?"

Antonia tried to withdraw a little to look at him but LaCroix refused
to budge, his arms around her like a band of steel.

"Is it Seth? Did something..."

"No." LaCroix shook his head a little, collecting himself enough to
be able to answer her at last. "Nothing's wrong. All is fine.
Wonderful. Perfect. Just perfect."

Relieved, Antonia rested her head against his, softly rubbing his
back. But his bear hug made it hard for her to truly relax, and when
her ribs began to crack she thought it was time to find out exactly
what was happening.

"Ah, honey. I can't breath."

At her slightly wheezing voice, LaCroix reluctantly eased his hold of
her but wouldn't totally let go.

"That's better", Antonia sighed, smiling up at him.

LaCroix had stopped whispering in to her ear but now he was staring
at her like he hadn't seen her in years. No matter what he'd just
told her, there was something definitely wrong here.

She peered into his blue eyes a little hesitantly but kept the smile
intact. "Not that this isn't a nice way to wake up but.. what's going
on? You keep acting like you haven't seen me in ages when I know for
a fact that it's only been, what, eight hours?"

At her words LaCroix's earlier frown returned.

"What's the last thing you remember, honey wine?"

Antonia wasn't sure whether to smile or frown herself, she kept
expecting to hear a punch line which just wasn't forthcoming.

After a small silence she decided to humor LaCroix. "Yesterday, when
we went to bed."

LaCroix was beginning to look more and more alarmed which in turn
began to worry Antonia.

"What day is it today? What month?" LaCroix asked her.

For some reason, Antonia suddenly had a bad feeling about this.
Swallowing a little she tried to calm herself down. "It's Tuesday. A
Tuesday in June."

"Antonia", LaCroix began carefully. "It's Friday, and it's not June
but September. Nearly three months has passed since that Tuesday."

"You're kidding, right?" Antonia's grin wasn't completely stable.
"It's a joke, right?"

But LaCroix shook his head and kept on staring at her seriously.

"Three months?" Antonia repeated, still not believing.

"Yes."

To prove his words, LaCroix grabbed his PCD from the nightstand and
handed it over to his wife. He watched intently as she pushed a few
buttons to retrieve the day's news. When she finally saw the date,
the PCD fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

Shaking her head, Antonia stared at him with a lost look in her gray
eyes. "How.., how can this be? And how come I can't remember any of
it?"

That was when LaCroix finally turned his gaze off her. Every second
his silence continued was nerve-racking for Antonia.

Finally, he met her eyes again. Playing with her fingers, LaCroix
chose his words very carefully as he told her what had happened.

When he was finished, Antonia could only stare at him, not able to at
once comprehend everything he had just said.

"I.. I don't know what to say." She gave out a heavy sigh. "I don't
have any recollection of any of that. I'm not sure if I ever *want*
to remember any of it. It's just..." Shaking her head, Antonia tried
to find words to describe what she meant but words literally escaped
her at that moment.

Freeing her fingers from LaCroix's hold she draped her arms around
him and deflated against him.

"Too much", she murmured against his chest. "It's just too much."

LaCroix was only too happy to hold her and they stayed like that,
entwined for a long time until they heard noises which revealed that
Seth had also woken up.

Reluctantly, LaCroix let go of his wife, and called for his son.

Shortly, there was a quick rap on the door before Seth peered in.

"Yeah? Did you say something, da...?"

His question was forgotten the moment he realized that his mother was
sitting up and looking right at him, with recognition in her shining
gray eyes.

"Mom...?" Seth's voice was hesitant, as if he was afraid to hope for
too much.

"Yes, Seth?" The smile Antonia gave him was simply brilliant.

"Mom! You're back!" Seth squeaked before he dashed into her waiting
arms.

There was a big emotional hoopla, not unlike a scene from an old
Disney film, as everyone was hugging and kissing everyone else at the
same time. It went on for a good while until Antonia at last declared
that she was starving and that it was time for her to get up.

Tossing away her blanket she stood up but almost stumbled to the
floor as she tried to walk to the door.

"Wow, I guess I should take it easy for a while", she breathed,
tightening her grip on LaCroix's arm.

"It'll pass", LaCroix assured her. "Just give it a little time."

Antonia gave him a crooked smile. "I know. I'd just hate lose any
more of it, that's all."

"Well, let's not then", LaCroix declared, sweeping her up into his
arms, much to Seth's amusement as well as embarrassment, and carried
her to the kitchen.

***

Two days later LaCroix received the message he'd been waiting for.
The four Watchers had been found and re-united with their friend.

As LaCroix entered the huge warehouse he had rented the three
Nightcrawlers, who were standing guard, greeted him. There were also
loud and angry cries coming from a closed area right behind them.

"I take it our guests aren't pleased with the accommodations?"
LaCroix arched his brow in mock surprise.

"Yes, sir." There was a faint grin on Lieutenant Hamilton's face.

"Well then, perhaps I should go and welcome them. After all, they are
staying.. for a while."

As he stepped inside the cries died out, only to begin anew a moment
later.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"If you think you can get away with this you sick psycho...!!!"

"Why are we here? What do you want?!"

"Gentlemen, please." LaCroix held out his hand and waited for them
all to shut up.

With satisfaction, he looked at the five men who were chained to the
walls. Yes, sometimes old ways were so much better, the new
inventions were often so sadly lacking in that special something.

"Now, in answer to your last question, 'what do I want?' Quite simply
- revenge. As for 'why have I brought you here?' Why, you all here to
die, of course."

"What..?!? You're mad! A bloody lunatic!"

"You can't do this!!!"

"Au contraire! I can and I have."

LaCroix had thought that what he'd just said, and how he'd said it,
had sounded reasonable enough, but his 'guests' immediately erupted
into vocal objections. Sighing, LaCroix shook his head. Would these
foolish mortals ever learn?

"QUIET!"

A sudden silence filled the room as the five men realized that
something had changed. Where there just a moment ago had stood a man
who'd wanted them dead, now stood a -- some*thing* -- with a pair of
*golden* eyes and, what were those he just flashed? They couldn't
have been. Human beings didn't have fangs. Right?

Finally! They would at last pay for what they had done. Antonia might
have woken up and she might not consciously remember what had
happened to her but her subconscious did, with a vengeance, every
time she went to sleep. And now these Watchers would get what was
coming to them. An eye for an eye, tooth for tooth. LaCroix reveled
in their fear, he tasted it, savored it - and then he multiplied it.

As the screams began again, LaCroix filtered them out. He wasn't
about to kill them just yet, and certainly not in the way they
expected him to. Although he would have *loved* to rip them apart
with his bare hands that was not the plan.

Stepping in front of the Watcher closest to him, LaCroix captured his
eyes. Setting his rage loose, he filled the man's mind with it,
explaining to him exactly what he was going to do to him, in
agonizing detail, using each and every one of his worst fears to
further his own cause. And then, he told his mind that it was already
happening, over and over again. Slowly but surely, he was being
tortured to death and there was no refuge, no chance of losing his
consciousness. There would be only the torture, and then - death. If
he was lucky.

Once the man's heart beat so fast that it was impossible to tell one
beat from the next, and when his screams began hurting his ears,
LaCroix stepped away to his next target.

When he was done, LaCroix exited the back room.

"Give them a little water every day, I don't want them to die before
their time, but no food", LaCroix ordered. "They should last at least
a few weeks but if they happen to go sooner, leave them where they
are. I shall take care of any survivors later."

The Nightcrawlers nodded their understanding. As soon as he'd left,
Major Ramos opened the door to the back room. They just had to know.

What they saw couldn't have been further from their expectations.
They had been prepared to see the prisoners broken by the use of
persuasive technology, or at the very least by old fashioned beating
up. What was before their eyes, however, was five men in shackles,
screaming their eyes out but there wasn't a scratch on them, not so
much as a bloody nose.

Hamilton, Dupre and Ramos shared a baffled look.

"What the hell did he do to them?" Hamilton asked, mystified.

Ramos shrugged. "Maybe he just looked at them real mean."

Dupre gave a small grin. "Or, maybe it was something he said."

Shaking their heads the three Nightcrawlers exited the room and
locked the door behind them.

"All right, who's up for a round of poker?" Ramos brought out a pack
of cards, ignoring the cries of their prisoners.

It took some effort, though, as the screams were even worse now than
they had been before and now they also lacked all coherence; they
sounded like the screams of mindless animals.

Outside, LaCroix listened to them - and he smiled.


The End


--------------------------------------------------------------------
The Latin bit & List of (mostly made up) acronyms used in the story:

Alea iacta est - The die is cast

MPD      - The Missing Persons Division
MAK5-PDW - Personal Defence Weapon (the children's model)
MAK9-PDW - Personal Defence Weapon (the adult model)
PCD      - Personal Communications Device
SLP4     - Self-loading Laser Pistol