I sat down last night to work on another story (Yes, Heather, I am working
on it) when this appeared. Don't know if it's any good, and it's only been
roughly beta-read by a friend (Hi Lisa!) at work. It's a N&N story, so beware.
It's written as a journal.

   Future Possibilities
          by
       Liz Muller


 I was brought across by accident, don't cha know.  Stupidly, I went food
shopping really late one night.  I should have know better, really I should have.
But, in my obviousness, I presented a tempting target to a hungry fledgling. I
can remember the pain as his fangs tore at my throat, then a deepening sense of
languor engulfed me as he fed.

  I felt warm and comfortable, then dimly realized I was falling. As I hit the
pavement, all I could think about was how unfair this all was...

I didn't know the half of it.

  Somehow, I lay undiscovered for the entire day, my body shielded from the
sun, by the ruins of the building he had tossed me into. The first thing I felt as I
awoke was hunger. Not your average ordinary 'I missed dinner' type of hunger,
but a gnawing, clawing raging hunger that took my breath away.

  Then I heard something. At first it sounded like a huge group of drums,
played discordantly, but I quickly recognized it for what it truly was.

  Heart beats. Lots of them. Loud. Coming at me from all around. Then I
smelled it. Blood, Food. What the tearing hunger demanded, then I knew what
I had become.

  My first thought was to go to him, but I squelched it. He loved me, I knew
that, but I also knew he couldn't, or wouldn't love me like this. Everything he
said, or didn't say, screamed that fact to me. So, as much as I longed to go to
him, to have him wrap me up in his arms and tell me every that it was ok, I just
knew I couldn't.  That it wouldn't be ok as long as I was a vampire.

  My hunger called to me like a living thing, demanding that I feed it. Realizing
that this must be my first priority, I pondered my options.

 There were no vampires in Toronto that I felt I could trust to help me. So,
where? I would have to chance the morgue, I decided. If I was lucky, the
uproar over my disappearance would leave the place empty. I kept a fair
amount of extra blood there...just in case.

  I needed to pick up my notes and samples as well. It wouldn't do to let them
fall into the wrong hands. After that, well, I'd just have to see.

  Cautiously, I left the building and after a few false starts, aided by the
growing pain from the hunger, I managed to make it to the morgue.

  Luck was with me, and it was deserted. Slipping inside, I made my way to my
office, my former office, I remember thinking. Before I could think it, I was in
front of the cooler, my hand on the latch. Swallowing, I opened and stared at
the bags of ruby liquid inside. I took a deep breath to settle myself and realized
with some horror and a bit of amazement, that I could smell the blood.  It
called me, enticed me.

  I felt detached as I reached out and picked up one of the bags. I held it almost
lovingly, letting my eyes close as I savored the scent of the blood. My fangs
descended, a somewhat unnerving sensation. The taste of the blood exploded
across my tongue as I bit into the bag. In a moment it was gone and another
was in its place.

  I finished 3 more before my hunger released its hold on me. For the first time,
I truly understood all the pain he went through. A wave of grief, hot and bitter
swept over me, as I truly understood what I had lost.

  Almost violently, I grabbed hold of my raging feelings and with difficulty,
pushed them away. There would be time later to deal with all of that. The first
thing I had to do was gather what I came for and go. This place was no longer
safe for me.

   I fled, and made a quick stop at my place. I had some cash tucked away for
emergencies, and I wanted to say one last goodbye to Sydney.

  Quickly changing and getting my stuff together, I stood  by the door, looking
with longing at the last sight of my normal, safe, comfortable life. Whatever
happened from now on, would be none of those things.

  A quiet meow from below me, pulled my eyes downward to Sydney as he sat
staring up at me,  a sad expression on his familiar cat face.

  With a soft cry, I bent down and picked him up, hugging him tightly. I could
feel the tears threatening to fall.  Whispering how much I loved him and would
miss him, I let him drop to the floor and I slowly turned and walked away from
my old life, into a new and strange one.

  That happened nearly 200 years ago. For most of that time, I've searched for
a cure, as I had done before. I stayed away from others of my kind, not
wanting anyone to know what had happened to me. Almost all my contact
with the world is via computer. The Net has been a godsend to me.

  As far as I can tell, only one person knows who I am.  Somehow, Aristotle
found me out. He won't say how he did it, but I must admit, I am glad of it. It
took me almost 50 years to get set up safely, and get on the net, once I did, it
took Aristotle all of 10 years to find out my secret.

  For his own reasons, ones I'd dearly like to know, he kept my secret. I've
been blessed by his friendship and help over the last 140 years. And through
him, I've been able to keep track of them. I always knew they'd wind up back
together, although I must admit I am surprised at the length of time they have
stayed together.  Apparently, LaCroix has given up pushing him, and basically
just keeps him out of trouble.

  I hope he can hold on a little longer. I think I'm close, very close to a cure. If
that happens, then I can fulfill my promise...

==========

  It's maddening. I'm so close! I just need a little more time, and I think I need
sample of blood other then my own to test with.

He's been better, or so I hear. I still haven't gone to see him, because I don't
want to give him false hope.  After all this time, I still miss him so much. All I
want is to be with him.

  Over the years, I've often toyed with the idea of going to see him, just to look
at him, but I never did. I'm afraid that if I did, I wouldn't want to leave, that I'd
reveal myself to him, only to have him reject me because of what I am.

  Now I wonder, with as close as I am to a cure, whether or not I'm wrong to
stay away. I now only hope he doesn't hate me too much for what I put him
through because of my own fear.

  Aristotle came through for me yet again. Somehow, he got me nearly 50
samples of vampire blood! The timing couldn't be more perfect as I have a
serum that seems to work ready for testing. God, I can't tell you how much I
hope this works.

   Well, it works. It kills the virus in all my samples.  I then drew a litter of my
own blood and injected it.  Close examination showed that the virus was gone.
All that was there were perfectly normal human red blood cells, in what used
to be my blood type. The cure, in my hands.

  Now all I have to do is figure out a way to tell him.

  I've decided not to take the cure till after I see him. Before I become mortal
again, I need to know if we have any chance together. If its no, then, well, then
I'll wait. I'll watch him become mortal, grow old and die.

  Then and only then, when his presence is gone, when he can no longer call me
to him just be his existence, then I will become mortal again, and try, as there is
no way I can while he live, try to find a life as deep and rich as the one I hope
for him.

  I've spoken to Aristotle, so I know where they are.  Tomorrow, I'll leave here
and go to him. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find out I was wrong...

 As I step out of the shuttle, I'm amazed, yet again at the changes time has
wrought. For too long, all of life I have experienced has been over the net.
Everything is strange yet familiar at the same time. As I move through the
terminal, I realized just how hard it is to be around so many mortals. I was
thankful yet again to Aristotle, who had insisted that I feed heavily before my
trip.

  Stepping out into the night, my gaze was drawn to the familiar sight of the
CN tower, now almost lost in the shadows of the taller buildings around it.

  Unexpected tears filled my eyes, as I realized just how much I missed
Toronto. It was strangely poetic, that in the city  where my odyssey had begun,
it was going to come to an end.

 As we pulled up, I realized that it was the same building from all those years
ago. I watched the cab drive off then walked slowly over to the door. I reached
out and slowly stroked the familiar keypad, then, for some reason, I entered
the alarm code he had given me.

  To my utter shock, the light turned green and the door clicked open.  Almost
in a trance I walked in and took the stairs up. I stood outside the door, one
hand lying on it.
I could feel him, just inside. He didn't know I was there, I was sure of it.

  A cold unreasoning sense of dread griped me. What if he reacted with anger,
with loathing. Could I bear it?  I didn't know. The only thing I was sure of was
I had promised him I would find his cure and I had. And that I loved him more
then life. Carefully, I pushed open the door. He didn't stir. I silently stepped in
and closed the door.

  He was lying sprawled on the old familiar leather couch, asleep. He looked
just as I remembered.  His unruly blonde hair fell untidily over his face.

  I moved forward, entranced by the sight of his familiar, beloved face. He
looked so peaceful, sleeping. No stress or worry marred the perfection of his
features. I ached to run my hand along his check.

  I don't know how long I stood there, just watching him sleep. He muttered
something I couldn't quite catch and shifted slightly. Looking around, I sank
gratefully into the chair facing him. I reveled in the simple joy of watching him
sleep, it had been so very long.

  As I waited for him to wake, I drank in the sight and smell of him, committing
it to memory, in case this was all I was to have left of him after he woke.

  I could feel him begin to wake. The gradual comprehension that he wasn't
alone. I saw the slight stiffing of his body in the moment before he opened his
eyes. My eyes were locked on his, to drink in the sight of his beloved eyes as
he woke.  Almost in slow motion as I watched his eyes opened and stared into
mine.

  He looked at me blankly for a moment, then I could see dawning recognition
and disbelief appear. His eyes never left mine as he stood up and walked slowly
over to me. It seemed like years passed as he drew closer, as I drowned in his
eyes. He stood looking down on me, such a mixture of emotions on his face it
was painful to watch.

  Unable to say anything, or even to look at him anymore, I dropped my eyes.
Instantly, he was on his knees before me, one hand on my cheek, forcing me
gently to look into his eyes. His touch sent a shiver through me, reminding
once again of what I had missed all these years.

  I could see a dawning hope in his eyes. I could see how fragile, how tattered
his hope was, as if he had held on to it for so long and so hard. His mouth
moved and I caught the barest hint of a whisper.


"Nat?"

  It sounded more like a pray then a question. Longing, a longing that matched
my own colored it, and I could see him brace as if expecting me to rip his hope
to shreds.

Unable to speak, overwhelmed by my own raging emotions, all I could do was
nod my head. He pulled me to him then.  He engulfed me in his arms and I
could feel him shake as he began to cry. Years of grief and pain poured out and
mixed with my own as I lost the battle and let lose with my own pain.

  For hours all we did was rock each other and cry, our mutual pain leaving us
very little choice. Exhausted, I lay limp in his arms, staring up into his eyes.
There were no words to convey what I saw. I reached up and drew him
down to me. Our lips met in a tentative, yet joyful kiss.  I wrapped my arms
around him and held on, letting him know, as best I could how much I missed
him.

  As I held him, I could feel my desire for him ignite.  I felt the gold creep into
my eyes, and my fangs dropped.  I pulled back, letting him see the vampire in
me.  I prepared myself as best I could for the rejection I feared to see, but it
wasn't there. Instead his eyes matched mine and I could see the tips of his
fangs.

  He smiled slightly and with a wink, tilted his head to one side, allowing me
unhindered access to his neck.  I leaned in and delicately kissed and nibbled his
neck. His muffled moan caused me to smile slightly as I gently slid my fangs
into him.

  A wave of pure joy washed over me as his essence flowed into me. There
were no questions, no second thoughts, only joy that I was with him again. I
moaned with the love and joy I felt from him as fresh tears streamed down my
face.

  I withdrew my fangs and rested my head against his neck, overwhelmed by
what I felt. I could feel him brushing the hair off my neck, and sighed as he
slipped his fangs into my neck.  I let him feel all that I felt. the sorrow for the
wasted year, the joy in finally being home, for that was where I was, home,
with him. He withdrew and rested his forehead against mine, just as he always
had. His eyes twinkled with joy as he whispered.

"Welcome home, Nat."

  We talked for hours after that. We laughed and cried and yelled and held each
other, but underneath it all was the knowledge that neither would ever lose the
other again.

  LaCroix showed up a few days later, ranting and raving, dropping
pronouncements right and left. Eventually, he came to realize that we were
going to use the cure, and that we were going to be together, as mortals, no
matter what he said or did. With bitter grace, he accepted, finally, the
inevitable. Even to the last moment, he tried to convince Nick not to use the
cure.

  On the day we took the cure, LaCroix disappeared and we never saw him
again. Nick and I married and settled down into very happy and fulfilling
mortal lives. Over time, we had 6 children. We were blessed, in this time of
longer life spans, with almost 100 years together as mortals.

  A few days ago, Nick was killed in a freak shuttle accident. It was a routine
flight, one he'd taken a million times before. We had the funeral yesterday.

For some reason I thought LaCroix would come, but he didn't.


  The kids, grand kids, great-grandkids were there, as were all our friends. It
was a lovely dawn service.

I still can't believe he's gone.

  For the last few years I've had some heart problems.  Time was catching up
with me. Nick and I had talked about the options, but we didn't feel any
urgency, after all, we were together, what more could we want.

  I can feel the pain now, in my chest. A tightness, a pressure. All I have to do
is hit my communicator, and help will be on the way, but I don't. All I want to
do is finish this.

  I've lived a good long life with Nick, and before that, a long and lonely one
without him. I don't want to live without him, I can't do that again.

  Right now, all I need to do is finish this. I expect that this will be taken for the
ravings of an old woman lost in her grief. I wonder if any of my family will
believe me?

  I'm tired now, and my chest hurts so much. I'm going to close my eyes for a
bit, I think. I doubt it will be much longer...

End
kmuller@ix.netcom.com