The Withdrawal
by J L Kerr <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
March 1999
=====
[Author's note: This is my version of a missing scene from The Fix. It
would be after the end of the last scene, and just before the tag. Last
scene was when Berman and Vinetti crashed their car into the tree.
Schanke and Natalie showed up, Natalie looking very worried. Nick
grinned and briefly flashed her his fangs. Tag scene showed Nick at the
loft, presumably getting ready for work the next night. He took a bottle
from the fridge, and stared at it with a despondent fatalism.
Since Nick had apparently become so addicted to the
Litovuterine B, I believe he had to go through a sort of withdrawal. His
system was rejecting the drug, and it had to cause havoc with his body's
constitution. Technically, Natalie had not met LaCroix yet, but for this
short story, she knows who he is.]
=====
Schanke volunteered to stick around and finish up with Berman
and Vinetti. And after a somewhat heated conversation with Natalie, he
finally convinced her he needed to be alone. Exhausted as he was, he
had managed to drive himself home and now found himself sitting on his
couch reviewing the events of the day in his mind.
The blood loss from being shot earlier had weakened him. He
knew he needed to feed, but the thought of anything entering his stomach
was making him nauseous. Earlier, when he had awoke in the trunk of his
car, he had been feeling almost normal. His guess now was that it must
have been an adrenaline surge, or something, because he certainly didn't
feel normal now. His body was breaking out in cold sweats again, and the
nausea was getting worse. All the food he had eaten earlier was sitting in
his stomach like pieces of lead.
He was just thinking about laying down, when he heard a whoosh
behind him, followed by the unwelcome presence of LaCroix. "Go away,"
he spat rudely.
"That is hardly a polite greeting, and after I came all this way just
to see how you were feeling," replied LaCroix glibly.
"You don't care how I feel. You just came to gloat," replied Nick in
disgust. He turned his head away as LaCroix came around the couch and
sat right next to him.
"Feeling poorly, are we?" he inquired, with a false solicitousness.
"Just leave me alone," groaned Nick, taking a deep breath as he
placed his hands over his stomach. It felt like it was starting to cramp,
and he could feel the bile churning within him.
"Don't tell me, Nicholas, that you now find mortality unsettling,"
replied LaCroix, amused at his own turn of phrase. His amusement,
however, was cut abruptly short as Nick was no longer able to control
himself and retched profusely in his own lap, and LaCroix'. Jumping
angrily to his feet, he started to spout an angry retort, when he saw
Nicholas grab his stomach as another spasm came upon him.
LaCroix quickly grabbed Nick around the chest, then half
dragged, half carried him rapidly into the downstairs bathroom. He
shoved Nick's head over the toilet just in time for him to vomit again.
LaCroix dropped to the floor behind Nick. He wrapped one hand around
his chest to support him, and took a firm grip on his head with the other.
Nick's body convulsed as he continued to heave uncontrollably.
After what seemed an interminable time, Nick's spasms finally
slowed, and appeared to stop. LaCroix held his chin up, and pressed a
glass of water to his lips. "Don't swallow, just rinse and spit," he
instructed. Nick weakly complied. LaCroix allowed him to settle back into
a sitting position. He then released him and stepped away to get a wet
washcloth. Nick immediate slumped to the floor, exhausted, pressing his
face against the cool tiles.
LaCroix returned, once again wrapping his arm around Nick and
hauled him to a sitting position. Nick was weak and not able to support
himself. His head fell back against LaCroix' shoulder. LaCroix took the
wet washcloth and began to wipe Nick's face and mouth. Nick suddenly
began to vomit again. LaCroix shoved his head over the toilet again, not
quite in time. Nick continued to retch convulsively, which soon turned to
dry heaves ... his stomach contents having been emptied. LaCroix once
again provided him with water and instructed him to rinse the bile from his
mouth.
Then pulling Nick close to him, he again wiped his face and
mouth. Nick's spasms didn't completely stop, although they continued to
get weaker. LaCroix slipped his hand under Nick's shirt and began to
gently rub his stomach, attempting to soothe him and stop the
convulsions. It worked.
When LaCroix felt certain that Nick had settled down, he laid Nick
on the floor. He rose and went to the shower, turning on the water. He
stripped himself of his clothing, tossing the soiled pieces in the corner.
He
then bent down and stripped Nick of his clothing as well.
Wrapping his arms around Nick's chest, he hauled him to his
feet. Nick began moaning and asking to be left alone. LaCroix ignored his
protests and stepped into the shower, bringing Nick with him. Nick was
too weak and barely felt capable of standing on his own. LaCroix
supported him and forced him to stand under the water, where he
proceeded to wash him quite thoroughly.
Turning off the water, they exited the shower. LaCroix had Nick
lean against the sink, while he took a towel and dried first Nick, then
himself. Nick by this time was completely out of it. The drug, and it's
aftermath, had wreaked havoc on him. He felt exhausted beyond any
ability to resist LaCroix' ministrations.
LaCroix took Nick back out to the main room, and laid him face
down on the couch. Nick pressed his face against the leather cushion,
and closed his eyes with a loud sigh of relief. He rolled partly on his
side,
and pulled his knees slightly upward, making himself more comfortable.
He fell asleep almost immediately. LaCroix took a large thick quilt and
wrapped it securely around his sleeping son. He stood over Nick and
watched him sleep. When he felt certain that he was sleeping soundly,
and would remain so, LaCroix retired to the upstairs bedroom.
Later in the day, LaCroix was awakened by the sound of
someone entering the loft. Having previously clothed himself in Nick's
pajamas, he donned Nick's robe and stepped out of the bedroom.
Looking down, he saw Dr. Lambert approaching the couch. She had
obviously spotted Nick sleeping there.
Natalie approached the couch cautiously. She relaxed when she
saw Nick was sleeping. Kneeling on the floor next to him, she raised her
hand and placed her palm against his forehead. Turning her hand over,
she then pressed it against his cheek. His skin felt dry and cool to the
touch, which was normal for him. His breathing seemed calm and steady.
She was relieved that he appeared to be all right. She wasn't sure what
to expect and had spent most of the day concerned. She had wanted to
come home with him this morning, but he had been adamant that she
not. He told her he wasn't sure how the drug was continuing to affect him.
His control was seesawing back and forth, and he was afraid to have her
close.
Placing her hand on his face again, she ran her hand through his
hair, and was mildly surprised to find it slightly damp. She called his
name softly, to no avail. He was sound asleep, and dead to the world.
Her eyes wandered down the rest of the couch, and she noticed his bare
shoulder peeking out from under the quilt. Curious, she took hold of the
edge of the quilt and began to lift it away from his body. She froze
abruptly, dropping the quilt back into place, when she heard a voice
speak to her from above.
"Looking for something, <Doctor>?"
She looked up, startled to see LaCroix gazing down at her from
above. He did not look happy. She wondered immediately what he was
doing here, at the same time she noticed he was wearing Nick's robe.
She glanced briefly back down at Nick, and saw that he was still sleeping,
oblivious to the world. She looked back up, and LaCroix was gone. A stab
of fear shot through her, as she heard him speak once again from right
behind her.
"Well, <Doctor>, to what do we owe the pleasure?" he asked,
staring coldly at her.
Stuttering nervously, she replied, "I just wanted to make sure
Nick was okay. Now that I see he is, I should be going." She stood and
inched slightly towards the elevator.
LaCroix casually stepped to block her path.
"Not so fast, <Doctor>," he said, his emphasis on her title leaving
no doubt to his feelings. "I find your visit rather fortuitous."
Even more nervously, she replied, "how so?"
Taking a step closer, he answered, "it saves me from having to
make, an otherwise, distasteful visit later."
"Visit?" she asked. A feeling of dread beginning to settle in her
stomach. She backed closer to the couch, and glanced down at Nick.
"You were going to come see <me> later?"
"And that surprises you, <Doctor>?" he asked sneering. "After
what happened today, you don't think a little chat is in order?" Seeing her
look towards Nick, and purposefully misconstruing, he continued, "oh,
don't worry, <Doctor>. I'm quite sure our conversation will not disturb
him."
He motioned her over to the kitchen table. Feeling like she had
no option, she did as he requested. When he pulled out a chair for her,
she nervously lowered herself into it, perching on the edge. He did not
join her at the table, but instead, circled around behind her and finally
stood off to one side.
"What is it that you want?" she asked, determined to not be
afraid.
"My, my, <Doctor>. Such courage," he commented, mocking her.
Natalie bit down lightly on the inside of her lip, forcing herself not to
respond. After a few uncomfortable minutes of silence, he continued. "I
wish to discuss this little experiment of yours."
"What about it?" she asked, when it became obvious he was
waiting for a response.
"Do you honestly believe that you were doing something good for
him, when you chose to inject him with this drug of yours?" he asked
demandingly.
"It's what Nick wanted," she answered.
"Oh, really?" he replied sarcastically.
"Yes. He thought it was worth the risk," she avowed.
"Tell me, <Doctor>. Did you think it was worth the risk? Did you
really believe this drug would return him to mortality?"
"There was a chance ..." she started to reply, when she was
abruptly interrupted.
"I asked you <Doctor>, did you truly believe this drug would
make him mortal again?" he inquired harshly.
"No," she admitted, becoming more nervous.
"Then just what did you think you were doing?" he demanded.
"It was just a test, to see how his body would react," she
explained. "He knew that."
"Did he?" hissed LaCroix menacingly. "And you've known him for
how long, <Doctor>?"
"We discussed it," she explained weakly.
"And tell me, <Doctor>, how his initial reaction to this drug
inspired you to continue this little experiment of yours," he demanded
sarcastically.
"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.
"What was the first thing he did, <Doctor>? Was it not to run out
directly into the sunlight? I dare say, that could have sent your little
experiment up in smoke." He said this as he circled behind her. "Then he
rushes to Janette to announce he's <cured>. You did not find this
concerning, <Doctor>?"
She gritted her teeth at the question. She was becoming very
annoyed with the inflection he used on her title, for he may as well be
calling her a <quack>. "I thought his exuberance was due to the
endorphin release caused by the drug, and that it would wear off. That's
why I sent him home to rest."
"After giving him his own supply of the drug," he added to her
statement, once again his inflection expressing his disdain. "But, he didn't
go home and rest, did he, <Doctor>?"
"No," she admitted reluctantly.
"You have caused him great harm," he snarled, his anger
becoming more evident.
"He's fine," she said, indicating Nick's quietly sleeping form.
"Is he?" he questioned mockingly. "Is that your expert opinion,
<Doctor>?"
Still very unsure of LaCroix' intentions, she nervously replied, "I
plan on running some tests to make sure ..."
"There will be no more tests," he stated slowly and resolutely. "In
light of recent events, regardless of how willing a subject my son chooses
to become, it would be very irresponsible of you, being a <medical
doctor> and all, to continue your experiments on him." Pausing to once
again walk to stand at her other side, he leaned forward and spoke into
her ear. "Wouldn't you agree, <Doctor>?"
Taking a chance, believing that he wouldn't be having this
conversation if he intended to kill her in Nick's living room, she answered,
"Nick won't want to stop searching for a cure."
"By all means, <Doctor>, continue your search. I am simply
insisting that you refrain from this dangerous, and dare I say, unethical
practice, of using my son as your personal guinea pig. Do you
understand me?" he asked harshly.
"Yes, I understand," she answered reluctantly, her own fears
rising to her mind. She wasn't going to admit it to him, but Nick's reaction
had scared her. She wasn't sure what had been happening, or what she
may have done to him by giving him that drug.
"Good," he replied, then casually moved away from her and the
table. She watched as he walked back towards the couch. He looked
down at Nick for a moment, then when she thought he had forgotten
about her, he looked up and asked, "is there something else?"
She was feeling relieved that he intended her no harm, at least
not right now. This sudden relief also emboldened her to ask, "so it's okay
with you that I keep looking for a cure?"
Smiling, he walked slowly towards her, stopping at the edge of
the carpet. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" he replied patronizingly.
"Nick led me to believe you would be against me searching for a
cure," she explained hesitantly.
Nodding his head, he chuckled and replied, "you might as well be
searching for the Holy Grail, for all the success you will have."
"So, you don't believe a cure is possible?" she inquired curiously.
"It's not a matter of belief, it is a fact. There is no cure," he stated
assuredly.
"How can you be so sure? Modern medicine has made some
startling progress ..." she started to argue, and became perturbed when
he immediately interrupted her yet again.
"I have no desire to debate this subject with you. It is of no
concern to me. You can spend the rest of your life searching to your
heart's content, for all I care. And I assure you <Doctor>, it would most
certainly cost you a lifetime." Sighing, he turned away from her and said,
"now, if you don't mind, I suggest you go."
Frustrated, she turned to leave. Just as she pulled open the door
to the elevator, she heard him speak to her again. She turned to hear his
words. "Do not forget our conversation," he said warningly.
"I won't," she replied through gritted teeth.
"And one last thing, <Doctor>," he said, as she stepped onto the
elevator. Seeing that he had her attention, he continued, "I suggest that
you keep this little chat between the two of us."
Frowning, she glanced at Nick, then replied, "of course." He was
going to let them continue, but on his terms, and he didn't want Nick to
know. She wasn't happy about it, but she could go along with that. It
probably wouldn't do Nick's morale any good anyway, if he knew LaCroix
was so sure there wasn't a cure that he would allow them to keep
searching unimpeded.
Once the <Doctor> had left, he made sure Nicholas was still
sleeping soundly, then retired once more to the bedroom. Nicholas would
most likely sleep into the night, and it was his intention to be gone at the
first sign of dusk. He had no desire to be here when Nicholas awoke, for
he was sure to be a combination of angry, upset, and remorseful.
LaCroix' presence would just provide a target for him to focus his
energies on. Nicholas was just going to have to handle his emotional
upheaval on his own.
Nicholas woke up groggily. He pushed himself to a sitting
position, and looked around slightly dazed. His mind was foggy, but
beginning to clear rapidly. He had been sleeping on his couch, which
really wasn't all that unusual. But other than the quilt wrapped around
him, he was naked. That was abnormal for him. He tried to remember the
events of this morning, and they gradually crystallized in his mind.
He remembered coming home after Berman and Vinetti had
been taken away. Natalie had wanted to come and make sure he was all
right, but he had insisted she stay away. He remembered when he got
home, how sick he had felt. LaCroix had been there. Startled, Nick looked
around and didn't see him anywhere. He reached out with his senses,
and relaxed when he determined LaCroix was not present in the loft. He
had been here earlier though. He noticed that the steel shutters were
open, suggesting he had been here at least until nightfall. Nick also
remembered getting sick, and then LaCroix hauling him into the shower.
After that, everything was fuzzy. Obviously, LaCroix put him to bed on the
couch.
Taking a deep breath, he was feeling almost normal. He rose off
the couch and headed upstairs to shower and dress for work. When he
came back downstairs, he retrieved his paper and sat at the kitchen
table. He was pleased to see the front page article. Schanke and Natalie
had been so sure he was being paranoid and delusional, that it was a bit
rewarding to know he hadn't gone totally out of his mind because of that
drug.
He thought about the events of the day. They almost had a
dream-like quality. He knew they were real, but they felt different in his
mind. It must be the affects of the drug. He remembered being out in the
sun, and eating real food. And he also remembered the confusion in his
mind, and the agony brought on by the nausea.
The hunger suddenly descended on him. He headed to the
refrigerator and grabbed the first bottle. Holding it in his hands, he
walked
back into the main room. He held onto the bottle tightly, and closed his
eyes. He tried to remember the details of his brush with mortality. He
knew, that with the first swallow of the blood, they would by necessity, be
shoved into the recesses of his mind. He wanted to hold on as long as he
could, the good and the bad, until the hunger overshadowed their
existence.
THE END
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