HOUSE CALL 10 (vi)

by Apache

Content:
Het
Vachon; Nick/Natalie
No Sexual Situations
No Violence

In the series, Nat and Vachon have gone forward to build a little on the acquaintance that began when she came to treat Screed for the Fever. In number five, the night before this one, Vachon came to Nat's apartment uninvited to talk to her, somewhat troubled about something; she figured out it was Tracy, his feelings for her, and the ever-fascinating issue of whether a human can survive vamp sex. Eventually the conversation pushed Nat's limits, and she shepherded Vachon out the door with a sort of 'have a nice life' pat on the back.

You know what happened in 1228?   There's a book called Timelines, you can look it up.  The University at Padua was founded, ironically the first great seat of medical learning in the West, home to the wisdom of Galen and William Harvey.  The first theories of blood circulation in the human body were formulated there, with Galen's teaching that some life-essence, the thing he called by the ancient word for breath/spirit, 'pneuma,' was mixed up in the blood, sent forth from the heart.  Wouldn't a vampire agree; doesn't a vampire think he gets the essence with the blood?  In 1228, Peter Abelard was teaching.  The Fifth Crusade started. The printing press was going to be invented in about two hundred and sixty years.  Joan of Arc... well, let's not get into that, cause Nick actually -met- her.

How?  How?

There is no one I can ask.  There isn't even anyone I can tell.

What's incredibly frustrating is that a phone call away is a really nice girl in the almost the same fix, and we can't talk.  I know that she knows, she thinks that Nick doesn't know, and Vachon knows that I know and she doesn't know...  aauuugghh!

I'm almost ready to be on The Jerry Show.  Or-- wasn't there a fairy tale about a little boy who whispered "the king has donkey's ears" to some plant?  And the plant turned into a thousand reeds that all whispered the same thing... That's it, Nat.  Talk to the plants.  Who knows, they might be more talkative than the stiffs.

Well, than all but one stiff.  But that one, who woke up on my table six years ago... life, and, for that matter, death, have never been the same since that night.

I sighed, and picked up the phone.  It was a number I'd never used before.

"Look, I don't really have anyone to discuss vampires with," I said.  "You wanta talk, you came over... talk."

"You want me to announce that Javier Vachon's Vampire Psychotherapy Bar and Blood Bank is open for business?"  He had a wry, crackling voice, like a barely post-adolescent boy whose voice wasn't sure it had changed for keeps.  I gave him a smile that probably looked like it hurt, because his smirk turned into a grin.

"Hey... for you, no charge," he said.  "My usual rate is a pound of flesh."  The vampire looked out of his eyes for the smallest second.  I think I was getting a message that he had actually been kind of offended last night.

"OK, I guess I have that coming," I sighed.  "But you gotta admit, you're in pretty deep.  You weren't on my doorstep for nothing -- and you -weren't- on it because you wanted to apologize."

He grinned.  "OK, we'll call it even.  Whaddaya want now?"

"Okay, look. Last night you fenced with me.  I don't have a hundred years to indulge in a game of vampire semantics.  There is stuff I'd like to know from you, and maybe there's stuff you'd like to know from me, I don't know."

I folded my arms.  "Joking aside, I think you want to talk about Tracy Vetter.  You don't want to, suit yourself.  I do want to know if you have sex with her, yes.  I want to know how it goes.  If that sounds like kiss and tell to you, I can't help that.  But it does, apparently, have a bearing on what I'm trying to do for Nick."  I met his eyes.  "With Nick," I amended.

A long silence.  The answer, when it came, was softspoken.  "This doesn't sound entirely like you're asking for the benefit of science."

I sighed.  And then drooped a little.  "I suppose not."  I turned away, found magazines and pillows to busy my hands with, something to carry to the kitchen, knickknacks to straighten.  Vachon was easy in the silence, simply watching me.  I finally turned to look right at him.

"Now I'm the science project, right?" I gave him a wry smile. "The female of the species in its natural habitat?"

Vachon's eyes crinkled.  "Something like that.  You want to get to what's bothering you?"  The smile faded and he shrugged.  "No hurry, I have all night."

"Yeah, and all the nights after that, too."

"Yes," he agreed.  Again, where Nick would have flinched at being reminded of his vampire nature, Vachon was wholly self-accepting.

"Could you sit here and talk to me and then just go out and kill someone else for their  blood?" I demanded abruptly.  //Oh my God, where did that come from?  But we were going to talk about love...//

Vachon was blindsided, and he reacted by staring and then dropping the mask that makes him look mortal.  A calm face with very old eyes looked back as his voice said, "Of course."

I shook my head.  "I could never--"

"You could," Vachon interrupted, human-like again.  His voice was unexpectedly gentle.  "If something brought you across, and you survived...  And if you don't know that, Knight's been lying to you bigtime."

"Which brings us back to... No, Nick doesn't lie to me."  I dropped into a chair and getting serious.  "There are things he spares me, that he thinks I don't need to know -- and sometimes when I learn them anyway, I agree.  Your world is -not- a pretty one, not even compared to the world of a night shift coroner."  I met his eyes squarely.  "And no, I don't think I'd want to live in it.  I don't think I'd adapt."  I took a deep breath.  Oh boy, I'm going to go ahead and say it. "My brother didn't."

Naked surprise stood out on Vachon's face -- was harbored in the age-old eyes.  It was the vampire, not the insouciant human pose, that silently asked to know more.  //In for a penny, in for a pound.  Some club,// I was thinking. //Lonelyhearts for ... vampire groupies?//

I tried to keep it matter of fact.  "Nick brought him across because I asked him to.  He... went crazy right away.  He didn't... survive."  Even now, it came out as a euphemism.  I couldn't bear the mental picture of Nick destroying what was left of Richard.   "So, for lots of reasons, I'm pretty sure your world isn't what I want."

Vachon had gone completely vampire-still.  They're like statues when they do this.  Janette would do it, too, just pause and fall out of time somehow.  Nick doesn't do it so much -- his moods can be as changeable as the wind, but it always seems like there's somebody *there* in  his eyes, someone having emotions, living a life.  But all the other vampires I've ever seen aren't like Nick.

I caught myself thinking that.  //Understatement of the century, Nat.  There is no one like Nick, not anywhere.// It made me smile a little, actually.  For all his multitude of failings, and all his fears and miseries, and his desire to run away from hard truths -- and for all the fact that he isn't a "person" at all, technically speaking -- Nick Knight is the best person I've ever known.

Vachon is not like Nick.  In his stillness, he was looking at me the way Janette would -- like the time I pulled bullets out of her and joked with Nick about where I'd say I found them.  It made me remember how carefully she noticed everything, how gently the scalpel and the probe went into her body to find the foreign objects.  She didn't thank me, but after that... I'd see this look.

This exact look I'm getting from Vachon.  All he did for he longest time was blink occasionally.  It made me terribly self-conscious, so I went to the fridge for some cranberry juice.

"Forget it," I said.  "This was a mistake.  I don't think we can talk.  Too many secrets."

Even thinking about it made me weary. // Let's see Tracy knows X, Vachon knows Y, Nick knows Z-- and Natalie?  Sometimes Natalie doesn't know a damn thing.  And other times...//

"In fact, you know what?  Too many secrets all around."  I sighed, and gave him a hard look that wasn't really about him at all.  "You want to know the truth?  Not only do I not belong in it, I am really tired of the vampire world.  Of the sneaking around.  I think you guys should just take out an ad in the New York Times that says, 'hey, we're here.  We control about a fifth of the world's wealth, and if you don't like us, you can just... fuck yourselves.'"  I almost never use that word.  Nick would've reeled, but Vachon doesn't know me that well.  I sighed again.  "In some moods, I'd do it for you."

Suddenly Vachon was one inch away, his golden vampire eyes gleaming down at me.  They were darker than Nick's, I noticed, the unsleeping scientist corner of my brain wondering if that was age-related or just personal to the vampire.  Blue eyes, brown eyes?  Did it matter right now?  Was Vachon about to bite?  //Nick, now would be a good time to phone...//

"Cut it out, Vachon," I said, bluffing.  "You know damn well I wouldn't dream of it." 

But he didn't cut it out.  "You're not the only one who keeps a secret, doctor," he said expressionlessly.  "And your secret, whispered in a certain direction...  Knight should have done it.  I should do it."

"You're being a bully," I said, forcing the voice through terror.

"A vampire, doctor."  But he wasn't moving in on my neck.

Now I was angry.  "You don't like jokes?  I don't like threats.  Bite me.  Or don't.  Just spare me the self-righteous Our Community act."  //Your community owes me,// I thought, but I was damned if I would say it.

He backed away.  His eyes flushed back to dark brown.

"Okay, then," I snapped.

He shrugged. "Sometimes you feel like a Nat.  Sometimes you don't."

//Enough already.// "You are such a poseur, Vachon," I snapped again.  "Does Tracy buy this act?"  Just as the clinical part of my mind was remarking that he had actually never answered any question about Tracy, he answered this one.

"No.  Never."  It came with a grin.  "Does Knight buy yours?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."  Actually, I did, but a good piece of movie dialogue like that can buy you some time.

He grinned again. "I'd ask if you buy his, but he's got so many acts, how could you answer?"  He is a maddening son of a bitch, this Vachon.

"And you're a tease, beautiful Natalie-- is that the real story?"

"Will you please stop calling me that..."

"You're right," Vachon said.  "You're not beautiful."

"Oh--that's--great," I said.  "That's a wonderful improvement.  Just what I needed to hear.  The dead guy thinks I'm not beautiful after all."

"You're not," Vachon said cheerfully.  He reached out and plucked at the ends of my hair, took one of the curls between his fingers and delicately pulled it out long, nearly straight, so the color caught the light.  "You're something better.  Splendid.  Unique.  And you hide yourself among the dead-- and the undead."  He flashed his wolfish grin. "Like I said, you're a fool or Knight is."  He let go of the hair. "Actually, I think maybe you both are."

"Pot calling the kettle black," I said sourly.  But I was glad he quit with the hair and the eyes, because that vampire seduction thing is really tough to fight... //Lacroix, for example, even creepy, cruel Lacroix... and Vachon is actually nice.  At least most of the time.  I think.//  I shook the thought off.

Last night, it was just a joke to help me stay awake, but now I felt a real desire to counsel Vachon, help him if I could.  But what is there to say?  Good luck not killing your girlfriend?

"About Tracy.... I can't tell you not to," I said, feeling my way, "and yet I probably should.  I guess we all have to make our own choices..."  I don't know who I was talking about anymore.  I took the coffee cup back to the kitchen.  "Part of me would like to tell you you shouldn't do it.  But we all have to make our own choices. But there will be consequences."

"You want to know if Knight loves you," he said very gently.

I gasped and shook my head -- but couldn't bring out the words to deny it.

"I can't answer that.  You want to know if vampires feel love?"  He sighed.  "I think so."  His eyes swung to meet mine.  "Remember -- we have twenty, thirty years of what you are-- but hundreds of what we are." He gave a small coughing laugh, and his eyes wandered away again.  He got thoughtful, and licked his lips before speaking.

"In some ways, what I know of what you call 'love' comes out of the movies, Natalie.  The passions of a mortal life..."  A pause, and he shrugged. "' We'll always have Paris.' 'I'd rather be his whore than your wife.' 'It's like flying'..." He shrugged again. "I can fly.  Whatever I feel, it's not like that.  But I don't know what it -is- like, not for sure."

His eyes came back to mine. He looked terribly unsure, terribly young, and it seemed like a true picture of what he was feeling despite the five hundred years.  He reached out and took a strand of my hair in his fingers again, but it wasn't me he was seeing.  Or not just me.  "I'd like to know," he said in an intense whisper.

My mouth had fallen a little way open.  Feelings like this?  This smirky, sarcastic, superficial....?

"Boy, you really do fly under radar, don't you?"  I said.  And Tracy Vetter never bought his act?  "So does she," I muttered under my breath, but he heard it and his eyebrows went up.

"So what's in this for you?" I said.

Vachon leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. His words were almost inaudible. "I don't understand why a twenty-six year old mortal makes me happy."

"But she does?"  I spoke almost as quietly.

"Yes."  The eyes travelled around as if different sections of the ceiling each had their tale to tell.

"Do you make her happy?"

His head jerked forward -- he frowned with confusion, which was an answer in itself.  "Sometimes... " a deeper frown.  "I want to."

"Is that why you're going to go through with this?"

He continued to look at me intently, but his eyebrows pulled apart, his eyes unfocused -- and when he came back, he gave me a schoolboyish grin.  "Not entirely."  

His grin spread and turned into the wolfish grin that makes me start thinking of his victims-- what better way to get food than make it want you? Make it love you? 

My mind wandered again...// does Nick have a look like that that I've never seen?  Did he go out in the evenings and turn on that sexy smile, with all the hidden strength shining out behind it?  And then five minutes later it's over.... where do you go with that smile then?//

"Do you have a relationship with a vampire?"    It came out of me without thinking.

Vachon's posture instantly went taut again, and his eyes pinned me.  I felt an intuitive certainty that if he does, Tracy doesn't know anything about it.  It wasn't actually the two of them I was thinking of, but Nick and Janette, that air between them, always thick with history -- and Nick would never say how much.

Off limits, off limits -- but how could I help but wonder if he went to her? // A woman he couldn't hurt...//

...A mercy fuck,' in the ugly phrase of medical residents.  You're on duty forty eight hours during which you're not allowed to sleep -- what else are you going to do in the cot room?  Grab a little sex, because who has time to date?

"I'm asking because I don't know how you guys live."  He relaxed a little.  "Unlive," I cracked.  He smiled, so I pressed on.  "Like if you pair off, marry..."

His eyes flashed.  "We hunt together."  He smiled blandly, but it was a taunt, and I gave it a resigned nod.  "Yes, sometimes," he said more seriously, then frowned.  "It's often a matter of, mmm, family."

"Master/child?"  His face cleared. "Yes."  He added, more softly, "and in my case, yes."

In ten minutes I'd gotten more straight answers from Vachon than in four years with Nick -- and now this.  It practically knocked the wind out of me.

"How do you expect Tracy to handle this?" I said.  In my mind's eyes, I was seeing the way Nick and Janette would tilt toward each other easily, the quick darting looks they'd give each other, full of messages that were as foreign to me as the noises only dogs can hear.

"You said it yourself, she's only 26.  Or will you--?"

The schoolboy grin again.  "You're asking me a lot of questions--"

"--that you don't ask yourself," I finished for him.  I gave him a twisted smile.  "My favorite kind, believe me."

The flashing grin.  "Touche."  He shrugged.  "You know, like, I'll burn that bridge when I get to it?"

I caught myself smiling back.  Charm and likeability -- never mind vampire charm, many perfectly mortal people float through life that way, catching a slide or some slack because of that easygoing, yeah I'm a jerk oh well, self-deprecating acknowledgement.  Can a vampire slide by like that for centuries?  Did Nick?

"You can't play with Tracy's life that way," I said.  "It's not a good enough answer."

His face froze into a very Nick expression:  the pout of a vampire who's just been told something he doesn't like.  I laughed, and of course he didn't know why.

And it was too much.  No farewells, just whoosh, the vampire doctor was no longer in.

And I had no idea how he got out of the room, didn't even hear the door open and close at some incredible speed.

 "Sorry, Vachon," I said out loud, in case he could still hear me somehow.  "Pot asking the kettle not to be, ya know?"

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