The bus was late and it was raining. She huddled in her coat at the stop, hands in her pockets, chilled to the bone. Her car wouldn't be ready until Monday, the mechanic had blithely informed her after she'd made the forty-minute bus trip out to the garage before work to pick it up. And then another twelve-hour shift; a murder-suicide AND a three-car collision on the 401 had put her into overtime again. Good thing she had the weekend to recover. At least she could sleep in.
The wind was picking up; raindrops stung her exposed skin, and she pulled her hat down lower over her eyes. Naturally her umbrella was in the back of the car. She peered out against the wind, hoping to see headlights in the distance. Nothing.
Time was she could have asked Nick for a ride, but somehow things had changed. She couldn't put her finger on when it had started, when he had begun to draw away. They had been such good friends once, and in theory they still were. But he hadn't come by the morgue again tonight. In fact she'd only seen him once this week, when he'd stopped by to pick up some results. Sure he'd been pleasant, but there was nothing personal. No jokes, no flirting, nothing but business. A friendly "see you soon" as he left, but no plans made.
She could have initiated something, she knew. If she'd suggested they get together for a video, for whatever, sometime this weekend, he would have agreed. But she always seemed to be the one doing the asking, and somehow it was more of an effort than she wanted to make anymore. And he hadn't picked up the slack, started suggesting get-togethers without being prompted. So the last video night was - she thought back. It must have been over a month ago. Maybe two months. It had been awhile.
The rain pooled in the upturned the brim of her hat suddenly overflowed and spilled down her face and neck. She irritably pulled her coat closer around her neck, looking vainly up the street again for the bus. Twenty minutes late now. And it was 1 a.m. and it wasn't the best part of town. She should have called a cab. But the bus dropped her right at the subway, the subway took her to the LRT line, and the LRT station was only two blocks from her house. So she'd thought, why spend the money? Because I wouldn't have to stand in the street awaiting the pleasure of the god damned TTC, she thought now. As it is fondly known to locals. But surely it couldn't be much longer. There was no point phoning a cab now.
I should have asked Nick for a ride, she thought morosely. So he hasn't called lately, big deal. He still has a car. She had thought of it in the lab, almost picked up the phone, but it had felt like a bad idea at the time and in the end she'd just grabbed her coat and walked out the front door. Now she wondered why.
Maybe she just hadn't wanted to risk asking. Not that he would have said no. Of course he would have given her a ride. But she didn't want him to just drop her off at her apartment, not offer to come up for a visit, and if she got up the nerve to ask him in tell her he was too tired or too busy or not really in the mood for company right now. All while giving her that rueful little-boy half-smile that could mean anything, but lately she'd begun to think it just meant "Please don't be mad at me, I might need you later." Even standing out here in the rain was better than that. Or so she'd thought half an hour ago.
The cold was making her shoulder ache again. She'd pulled it the night before, lifting a particularly large client onto the table. She'd felt twinges on and off all day, and it was getting worse. She was probably going to need an ibuprofen to sleep, assuming she ever got home. She stretched her shoulders back, trying to ease it a little.
There wouldn't have been much point asking him up anyway. Even if he'd come, they hadn't had much fun together in a long time. There were long awkward silences. She could never think of anything to talk about, and he didn't help her out anymore. It used to be so uncomplicated, so effortless. They could hang out and talk about anything under the sun. She'd talk about her day at the lab, her family. He'd tell her stories from his past. She could listen for hours. But now the words just didn't seem to flow.
And it didn't help that when she did talk to him she felt like his mother. Have you drunk your protein shake? Did you eat your hamburger? Just try a little harder, Nick, it won't work if you don't try. Just make a little effort for me. No wonder conversations were strained. No one likes to be nagged. But she couldn't think of anything else to talk about these days, not when he never seemed to want to talk at all.
That time a few months ago when he'd lost his memory was painful to remember now. She'd felt so much hope. He'd been so warm and loving, really wanted her; for once she was the one who had to pull away. It had been moving so fast, and she didn't want to take advantage of him. But for a little while all her doubts were resolved. She had been so happy. For about a day. Then he'd regained his memory, and so much for that little daydream.
No point thinking about it now.
Still no bus. Water was soaking through her 'rain-resistant' coat and into her shirt in a cold, clammy patch that began over her shoulders and grew steadily, trickling down her back and breastbone. And the god damned bus wasn't here. Two more minutes, she thought, and the hell with it, I'm calling a cab. She looked into her purse to see if she had the money.
She heard a car hiss by on the wet street and slow down. All she needed right now; some pervert who thinks I'm a working girl, she thought, and looked firmly away, examining the contents of her purse, refusing to let the driver catch her eye. The car stopped at the curb beside her anyway. Great. She turned her body a little so her shoulder blocked his view of her face. She heard the window slide down almost silently.
"No need to fear, doctor," said a silken voice. "My intentions are pure, I assure you. You look like a drowned rat. Can I offer you a ride?"
She recognized the voice. Nick's tormentor. The Nightcrawler. She looked around, and it was on the tip of her tongue to refuse him, when an extra gust of wind drove a burst of sharp, cold rain directly into her face. What was the worst he could do? she suddenly thought, and found herself nodding her thanks, moving towards the car, and stretching out her hand to the door, while a small, sober voice inside her said, the worst? He could kill me and drop my body in the lake. And that's just one possibility. She hesitated, one hand on the handle.
She heard the quiet snick of the doorlocks opening. "No need for fear, doctor," came the velvet voice again, sounding amused. "If I wished you harm staying out of the car would not protect you. I am genuinely offering you a ride."
Oh, the hell with it, she thought abruptly, opening the door and swinging herself into the seat. "Thank you", she said, and settled back against the cushions, fastening the belt.
The car was warm and dry and smelt of good leather. She looked around her. Pale grey leather, hi-tech dashboard, the faint sound of a violin sonata playing on an excellent sound system. Nice. "I'm dripping on the upholstery," she said suddenly. "I’m sorry, should I - " vague thoughts of finding a towel to drape on the seat under her crossed her mind, but LaCroix seemed unconcerned. The car slid noiselessly into motion on the roadway.
"It can be cleaned," he said carelessly. "I don't buy cars to worry about them." He'd probably said the same thing about slaves, she thought. No doubt he had performed the routine necessary maintenance, then sold them when they began to break down too often. A strangled giggle escaped her and LaCroix glanced across at her.
Some impulse prompted her to honesty. "I was thinking that you'd probably said the same thing about your slaves," she said. "Didn't coddle them, sold them when they stopped working."
LaCroix shook his head, looking back towards the road. "Not all. The good ones I freed and pensioned off. Pour encourager les autres," he said,looking to see if she understood.
Natalie nodded. "To encourage the rest to emulate them. So then all the slaves would work harder."
"Hoping for the same reward. Precisely." The violin sonata ended and after a moment's interruption another piece, violin and harpsichord, began to play. Natalierealised she was listening to a CD. She relaxed and leaned her head back against the padded headrest. Now that she was out of the rain she realised how cold she had been. She buried her hands in her coat pockets again. Her clothes were wet and she was still chilled. She wondered if she could ask LaCroix to turn the heat up. She realised he had said something and turned her head to him in enquiry.
"Where am I taking you?" he said again. The car slid to a stop at a red light and he looked at her, waiting.
"You can drop me at the subway," she said, gathering herself. "If it's not out of your way."
'If that's what you wish," he said. "But I am happy to take you to your door. I have no pressing engagements this evening.."
She lived in Scarborough, too far to expect a total stranger to drive. But she could feel herself beginning to shiver, even in the warmth of the car. To be honest, if was seriously willing to drop her at home …a long wait on a cold, deserted platform did not appeal. "Well, it's fairly far out of your way," she said. Let him make up his own mind. "3482 Barlow. It's near Kennedy and Sheppard."
"My dear doctor, that's impossible," he said immediately.
"The subway would be fine," she began to say, a little disappointed, but he overrode her.
"I can't drive you that distance in soaking wet clothes," he said. "You're already shivering. And I certainly I can't drop you off at the subway. Nicholas would blame me should you come down with pneumonia." Nicholas probably wouldn't even know about it, she thought glumly. It's not as if he was calling regularly enough to find out.
LaCroix was looking through the windshield, clearly considering. The light turned green but he ignored it. "I live only a few blocks from here," he said, turning to her again. "I would like to take you there and offer you a change of clothes. Then I'll drive you where you like. Or you can take a cab." She stiffened warily, and he held up an elegant hand. "This is not compulsory, doctor. I will drive you home as you are if you wish. But you are in no danger in my house."
It was actually an appealing offer, she realised. Her shirt stuck clammily to her skin all down her front, and her shivers were hard to control even with her hands clenched in her pockets. She was in first-stage hypothermia, she realised, and suddenly it seemed too late, and she was too tired, to make the effort to resist.
"Sure. Thanks. But why?" she said. That seemed to cover it.
The powerful vehicle turned smoothly on the next street under LaCroix' hands. He responded without looking at her. "You are cold. And we have never really had the chance to talk," he added. "I have been curious to know how you are."
"We talked in the Azure," she said, slouched back into the comfortable cushioning of her seat, eyes shut. If they were going to do this, she hadn't the energy to pretend she didn't remember.
This netted her a glance she could feel through her closed eyes. "Really. I don't recall."
"Whatever you say."
"If I did recall," said LaCroix, "what would I remember?"
He spoke quietly, but Natalie felt a chill not caused by her wet clothes. It was too late now to draw back. "We talked about Nick," she answered calmly. "You stood behind me. You - " she swallowed. In fact all of the details of that evening weren't equally clear. "I think you stroked my neck, " she said slowly. "Then - Nick came then. You argued." She paused.
"And then, doctor?" The smooth voice invited confidences, intimacy, secrets told only between friends. "Anything else?"
"Then Nick said he didn't love me," she answered. It was the first thing she had remembered, when the clouds had begun to clear. "That he was just using me."
"And you believed him?" She felt the car turn a corner, the swish of the tires faint through the insulated frame. The squeak of the wipers was soothing, hypnotic.
"Not at the time. At the time I don't think he believed it either."
"You sound as if things have changed between you."
"Wasn't that your intention?" She opened her eyes and looked at the dim reflection of his half-profile in the rain-streaked windshield. "Look, I brought up the Azure so I wouldn't have to keep biting my tongue, pretending I'd never seen the place. Can we change the subject now?"
The reflection nodded. "I'm sorry if my intervention chilled your little romance, doctor," he said. "It seemed desirable at the time."
Natalie shrugged. "It probably didn't make any difference." She looked out the window. They were drawing near a treed lot surrounding a lowrise luxury full-service condominium complex. She had gone through a unit at an open house once when she first had a real job. It was easily triple what she could afford, but she had been curious to see how the other half lived. "If Nick had really wanted me I don't think you could have stopped him."