The Fix (Missing Scene)

Nick: (feverishly) "She betrayed me!"

LaCroix: "Janette didn't have to say anything. A father knows when his children are in pain. He senses it. As keenly as he senses their rejection of his generosity."

Nick: "Then look at this. (Nick crosses over to the window, raising the darkening shade with the remote. Revealing the vertical blinds.) Do you see. DO YOU SEE. I'm changed, I'm cured, I have made it back."

LaCroix: (walking towards him) "You're deluding yourself, Nicholas. You have merely substituted one dependence for another. And what have you gained in the bargain? Pain? Sickness? The promise of certain... decay. Stop this foolishness, Nicholas."

Nick: (hoarsely) "You can't accept it can you? You can't accept that I'm a human being again."

LaCroix: "I am offering you a choice, Nicholas. The others, those who sustain our secret, will not view this with the same patience."

Nick: (flippantly) "I'm not yours anymore."

LaCroix: (stepping closer, pausing) "You're wrong Nicholas."

LaCroix, now, takes a sharp, deep intake of breath. (he moves into the light) "We... are ...each other. You will always be mine...eternally." (he closes his eyes, concentraiting on defusing the pain)

Nick has turned to face LaCroix, at his declaration.

Grabbing Nick by shirt front, LaCroix drags his willful son to within inches of his face. His anger and frustration boils just beneath the surface of his stoic, chiseled features. Smoke whisps off him.

"What is it about your precious sunlight, Nicholas. That you desire it so? That you need to continually strive to leave me... for it?"

LaCroix then abruptly turn Nick around, ripping his sweaty shirt open at the chest. Letting some more control slip through his normally measured tones, "Tell me. TELL ME! Why must you insist on shunning me, and my gift to you?... For this...!"

The brightness, though muted by the slatted window, is bathed across the pale, naked, expanse of the younger man.

Regaining most of himself again, LaCroix continues, "This... means... nothing. These bright, burning, beams, will NOT cleanse you of your guilt. That you so eagerly carry in your soul. Your... humanity... will not be found in the...light of day!" Pausing, he adds quietly, "Here...is where you belong."

A cool, broad, hand splays across the tight warm breast. LaCroix, with his child ensconced, steps out of the glow. Even he, with all of his ancient powers, is becoming more that a little discomforted by the sun's damning rays.

His left arm snakes easily around Nick's waist, to hook his thumb inside the pants' band. He pulls his protege back closer to him. Though still not mortal, the warmth radiating from Nick sends a slight subconcious shiver through him.

LaCroix closes his eyes, reveling in the intoxicating proximity and scent of his favorite child.

Although changed, Nick is not, yet, human. The drug is wearing on his system, tiring him. The physical support of LaCroix is a temporary, cautious, welcome. He leans back, resting, without thought, on his master's shoulder. He takes a respite from the war raging inside his very blood.

The two accept this small truce, for the moment. Each sharing in the strength, security and adoration, built over the centuries, for the other. It wasn't always this tedious. At one time, there was more.

"I must leave." Nick is the first to break the fragile spell. In those few minutes, they were frozen, together again. It passed too quickly, even to the older immortal.

LaCroix hushed, slowly to add hopefully into the other's ear, "Nicholas...?" Sliding his thumb along the waistband of the slacks. Drawing his right hand slightly down the lean chest. Nick lifts his head lazily from its resting place. He turns his gaze towards LaCroix' face.

"No...not, now." Nick then, ever so gently, gives a soft kiss to the cool neck, so close to his lips. Then steps out of the embrace. He meets with no resistance. He pauses, "LaCroix, I need more time to..." He then turns to face the one who has meant so many unnamed things to him.

Nick knew, even before he looked. He was alone, again.