"Are you Doctor Lambert?"

The voice was shrill enough to clearly reach Natalie's ears above the dull roar of dance music that filled The Raven. Instinctively she turned toward the source of the voice, and found herself facing a tall, somewhat menacing blond woman wearing too much makeup, and a leather jacket. She nodded, realizing that trying to speak above the din was pointless.

"Good," the woman said, pushing herself away from the booth and covering the short distance between them. She leaned forward and spoke loudly into Natalie's ear. "Janette's in the back! Over there!" Straightening, she pointed across the dance floor to a doorway obscured by a heavy red drape.

Nodding again, she tightened her grip on her bag and began to move through the crowd, trying not to wonder who among the dancers brushing up against her was a vampire and who was mortal. The heat and noise in the club were almost intolerable, and there were several large machines in the corner that, on occasion, belched out a fairly large amount of thick, sweet-smelling smoke. Natalie wondered, not for the first time, what had prompted her to drive down here at Janette's request. But she knew why. The call had come in at the end of her shift, and there was simply no reason *not* to.

If the truth be known, she was curious. She had absolutely no idea what this was about. Some instinct leading her to assume that this was neither a desire to have a little "girl talk," nor a trap. Natalie didn't know why she didn't suspect the later. She had no reason to trust Janette.

Then again, she had no reason *not* to trust Janette either.

So, she was back at square one. Curiosity.

But her more pressing problem turned out to be navigating the dance floor, and the large number of bodies assembled in that rather small space were making it rather difficult. It was painfully obvious that she didn't belong here. She glanced down at the brown dress suit and colorful vest she'd worn to work, which was probably part of the problem. Failing to make her way through yet another tangle of dancers she was about to give up and make her way back to the front door when Janette suddenly appeared at her elbow.

"You're late!" Janette said sharply, grasping her arm and propelling her swiftly through the crowd toward the back room before Natalie had a chance to answer. At the doorway, however, Janette pulled up sharply. "Wait here," she said. "Give me a few moments, then come in." Then she ducked quickly through the curtain leaving Natalie alone to sigh in exasperation. Wondering what kind of game Janette was up to, she quickly counted to ten, then pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the room.

The blaring of the music wasn't quite so bad in here, although it was still quite loud. The thickness of the cloth covering the door did a good job muffling the sounds of the music and the crowd. However, this barely registered on Natalie as she saw Janette leaning over the pale and huddled form of a young woman. Without thinking, Natalie darted forward. "Stop!" she yelled, absently noting the horror in her own voice.

Janette straightened quickly and took a step toward her, glaring. "I told you to wait outside!" she said harshly.

What are you doing?" Natalie said instead, ignoring her as she moved forward with the intention of placing herself between the irate club owner and what looked like her victim. But Janette beat her to it, stepping so that she blocked Natalie's path toward the woman, who had, during this brief exchange, retreated even further into a nearby corner.

This isn't what you think," Janette said defensively.

"Oh, right!" Natalie said sarcastically. Looking over Janette's shoulder, she got an even closer look at the other woman in the room and noted her torn clothing, not to mention the bruises that marred her arms and what little Natalie could see of her face. "Then what is it?"

Janette followed her gaze toward the back of the room before turning back to meet Natalie's eyes. Her expression softened slightly. "She needs your help," she said, moving aside. "You brought your medical bag as I requested?"

In answer, Natalie held her black bag up. "What happened?" she asked again.

With a heavy sigh, Janette leaned forward and began speaking softly. "Her . . . pimp . . . did this," she began, the bitterness in her voice clipping each word. "A customer complained about not getting his money's worth. She won't go to the hospital. But she needs medical attention." Janette paused, and looked at her again, earnestly. "Will you help?"

Natalie glanced past Janette again at the girl, nodding slowly. "I'll do what I can," she said.

Janette nodded curtly, then walked back over to the woman, leaning over her and speaking softly. "Debbie, this is Doctor Lambert." Debbie started at the sound of Janette's voice, and tried to move away. Swiftly, Janette reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right! It's all right! Shhhh," she said gently, until Debbie stopped moving.

"I'm not going to the hospital!" Debbie managed to choke out defiantly.

"Now, now," Janette gently admonished. "No one said anything about the hospital. Doctor Lambert simply wants to tend to your injuries. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

When Debbie reluctantly nodded, Janette glanced up at Natalie and nodded slowly. Natalie stepped forward, placing her bag on the bench next to Debbie and opened it with a flick of her wrist, before speaking softly. "Debbie?" She waited until Debbie glanced tentatively up at her before continuing. "Everything's going to be fine, OK? Let s have a quick look at you." Gently reaching out, she tilted Debbie's head up, trying to ignore the heavy scent of too much perfume that clung to the younger woman. Given the number and severity of the angry bruises already showing on Debbie's face, Natalie was concerned about a possible concussion or worse.

A quick check of Debbie's eyes indicated that she probably didn't have any serious head trauma, so Natalie began attending to her other injuries.

She glanced up in concern when Debbie winced sharply, and placed her hand gently on her shoulder. "Can you lie back for me?" she asked, and gently prodded her so that she leaned back on the bench. With a furtive glance over at Janette, who nodded encouragingly, Debbie slowly laid back.

"I'm just going to give you a quick exam, OK?" Natalie said. "To make sure there aren't any broken bones. You tell me if it hurts." Very carefully she gently palpated Debbie's abdomen, stopping at her ribcage when the other woman gasped sharply. Natalie nodded. "Just as I thought. Debbie, you have at least one broken rib, maybe more."

Debbie moaned softly. "He . . . he kicked me a couple of times."

Natalie squeezed her hands. "There may be some other damage. I really think--" A touch on her arm cut her off, and Janette shook her head warningly. Natalie turned back toward Debbie, and continued on anyway. "I think you should let me take you to the emergency room."

"No!" Debbie said, struggling to sit up. Natalie wasn't sure, but she could have sworn Janette echoed the word softly. But her immediate concern was Debbie. "I'm not going to the hospital," she said, shrugging her coat back over her shoulders and rising.

"Debbie! Debbie!" Natalie said, grasping her arm. "Look--"

"I have to go," Debbie said, shrugging off Nat's hand and moving quickly to the door.

Janette pushed past her and followed Debbie out of the room almost faster than Natalie could see. With a sigh, Natalie glared down at her medical bag, silently cursing herself.

When the curtain moved aside again, Janette entered once again, gently leading Debbie by the hand. "Go sit down," Janette whispered, and Debbie turned around moved slowly across the room. Natalie had seen that vacant look before and opened her mouth to protest when Janette called her over into the corner. Reluctantly, Natalie allowed Debbie to pass and moved toward Janette, who was making no attempt to mask her fury.

"Well, Doctor," she began, her voice icy. "I can see why you work with the dead! Your bedside manner leaves quite a lot to be desired!"

Natalie opened her mouth to retort, but then thought better of it, looking off just past Janette's shoulder. That crack had stung, but it was better to let it go. "All right," Natalie conceded. "I won't bring up the hospital again."

Janette stared hard at her for another few seconds, then nodded. "Good," she said curtly, then ushered Natalie back toward her patient.

Debbie was in shock, but it was mild, and since they couldn't take her to the hospital, they' d just have to make do. Natalie set to work cleaning out and dressing the cuts and abrasions, gauging Debbie's response to her ministrations with no small amount of concern. Debbie was too quiet, staring up at the ceiling, and Natalie suspected that Janette had done a little more than suggest she return for treatment.

When she was finished, she turned and looked up at Janette, who had stood silently in the corner watching Natalie work. "She needs to rest," Natalie said, in her best professional tone. "And someone to keep an eye on her. I'm still concerned about a concussion, and the ribs. And she's in shock." Before Janette could speak, Natalie continued. "And undo whatever it is you've done. I need her to be a bit more alert." She tried hard to keep the accusation out of her voice, she really did, but the sudden tight set of Janette's mouth told her she hadn't succeeded.

"Of course, doctor," Janette murmured before exiting the room once again with a swish of the curtain. When she returned, a young woman trailed after her. "We'll take her into the back," Janette said. "There's a spare room there."

Natalie stood aside and watched as the woman, whom Janette didn't bother introducing to her gently scooped Debbie up into her arms then followed them out. The music was still blaring, although Natalie noticed that the crowd and the smoke had thinned out. Not that any of that was important as they ducked through a doorway just behind the bar. Natalie found herself standing in pitch blackness, yet somehow sensed that Janette and the other woman were moving away from her. Slightly perturbed, Natalie cleared her throat.

The only sound was a slight whoosh, and Natalie felt a breeze blow the hair back from her face. Then there was a click, and the hallway was filled with light. Janette was standing next to her, giving her an amused look. "This way, Natalie," she said, moving down the hallway again. With a small noise of exasperation, which no doubt Janette heard, Natalie clutched her medical bag tighter and moved after them as they turned into another room.

The other woman was gently laying Debbie down onto a small twin bed, and Natalie rolled her eyes when she saw the silk sheets and silk comforter. Janette waved the other woman away, then proceeded to gently tuck Debbie into the bed, taking great care that she be completely covered by the comforter. Her back was to Natalie, but she was certain that were she able to look at Janette's face she'd be surprised at the tenderness in her expression.

Once Debbie was settled, Janette sat for a moment, gently stroking the other woman's face before speaking softly to her. Natalie couldn't quite make out what was being said, but she saw Debbie nod several times, then close her eyes. She stood watching for several moments, then lightly touched Janette's shoulder. Janette didn't look at her, but softly smoothed the hair away from Debbie's face, then rose and left the room. Natalie followed.

"She's sleeping," Janette said softly, turning to her just outside the door. Natalie pulled the door behind her, but left it slightly ajar, nodding. "It's a light sleep, you can wake her up easily if you need to."

"Good," Natalie said. "Someone should stay with her for a while," she said, then licked her lips, unsure how the other woman would react to her next suggestion. "*I'll* stay with her, if you'd like."

Janette blinked once, then looked back at her. Her expression was almost sad before she shook her head slightly. "Thank you, but no. Brianne can stay with her."

"It's no trouble," Natalie added softly. "If you won't let me take her to the hospital, at least let me do this."

There was a sudden heaviness in the other woman, a weariness that Natalie, for all her limited dealings with Janette, had never sensed in her before. It was unsettling, and it reminded her all over again of the great age and enormous experience of the woman who stood before her now. For the first time since first meeting her, Natalie wondered what a mortal Janette had been like, what she *would* be like if she were mortal now. Something in her eyes, something in the sadness of her bearing told Natalie that whoever Janette had been all those centuries ago, she had not been happy.

"Let me buy you a drink, doctor," Janette said, wearily. "Brianne will sit with her for a while, then you may stay with her, if that is what you wish."

For once, Natalie had the good sense not to argue with Janette, and probably wouldn't have gotten the time to anyway as Janette abruptly brushed past her and back out into the main area of the club. In seconds, Brianne moved toward her. Natalie gave her a few instructions, then followed Janette out into the other room.

The club was still open for business, but there were barely any patrons at this late hour. Natalie saw that Janette had seated herself at a table near the back of the club, behind the wall of chains that decorated the club. As she walked across the floor, Natalie idly thought about what a safety hazard those chains were, as the cold metal clinked against one another as she moved through them. Then she sat down at the table, regarding Janette silently.

"Your pleasure, doctor?" Janette asked as a waitress approached the table bearing a glass of dark red liquid.

Tearing her gaze away from glass as the waitress sat it down in front of Janette, Natalie looked up. "Just water would be fine, thanks," she said with a small apologetic wave.

"Bring Doctor Lambert a scotch and soda," Janette countered. As the waitress moved off, Janette looked at her with a smile. "I said I wanted to buy you a drink."

"How do you even know I drink that?" Natalie challenged, leaning back with an amused smile of her own.

"Oh, Nicola has mentioned it once or twice."

That made Natalie a bit uneasy, and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from questioning Janette about just what Nick had said about her. She didn't like the fact that Nick talked to Janette about her at all, particularly when she had so little to go on on that front herself. It also served to remind her how much closer Nick had become to Janette over the last several months.

Natalie tried to hide her discomfort by staring intently at her hands. "So," she said slowly, then glanced back up across the table. "Have you known Debbie long?"

Before she could gauge Janette's reaction to her abrupt change of subject, the waitress returned with her drink and set it before her, disappearing silently back into the darkened club.

"Long enough," Janette said casually, pulling a cigarette from the pack that had mysteriously appeared on the table. Natalie tried not to frown when Janette lit it. "But you're changing the subject." With a sigh, Natalie took a sip of her drink, knowing there was no escape from whatever agenda Janette had in mind. The weariness that she'd noticed earlier seemed to have dissipated, but there was still a shadow lurking behind Janette's eyes as she exhaled a long stream of smoke, then turned to regard Natalie thoughtfully. "You don't like it that Nicola talks about you with me, do you?" she asked.

Natalie leaned back. "Would *you* if you were me?"

Janette took another drag from her cigarette, then took a sip from the glass in front of her. "I suppose not, but then, I don't have that particular problem, do I?"

Too late, Natalie couldn't hide the irritated expression that crossed her face. She looked away, but not quickly enough, and she heard Janette give a soft chuckle.

"Don't worry, Natalie," she said almost patronizingly. "He doesn't say much. Just the odd thing here and there, something that strikes his fancy, or amuses him." Janette paused then, just to drive her words home. "Or confuses him."

"Oh, great," Natalie murmured, taking another sip of her drink. Since there didn't seem to be a way out of this conversation, and because Janette was being particularly blunt, Natalie quickly decided that two could play at this game. A little fishing and fact-finding of her own was in order. A part of her reminded her that she might not like the facts she found. "What makes you think Nick doesn't talk about you?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Because I know him," Janette replied, without any hesitation. "*Have* known him. For a very long time."

Her inner voice had been right; she didn't like that answer. But there wasn't much she could do about it because Janette continued.

"It's his way," she said. "As much as the brooding and the guilt. He thinks that information will be a danger to you, and he's partially right."

"Partially?" Natalie asked, trying not to sound sarcastic. Something in her told her she was about to get another lecture on how dangerous a path she was following. She was well aware of that, thank you very much, and she hotly resented Nick's reticence as much as she resented Janette's patronizing demeanor just at the moment. The anger flared brightly in her chest, eclipsing the warm fire caused by the alcohol in her empty stomach.

"Don't be angry," Janette said, her manner softening somewhat. "I'm not here to tell you how to run your life." Suddenly, Janette was looking past her, back toward the doorway and the hallway, and no doubt, Natalie realized, thinking about the battered woman who rested back there. "You're one of the lucky ones, in control of your own life." The last was said almost wistfully.

But there was something in Natalie that uncharacteristically wasn't going to let this go, despite Janette's soft, reassuring words. "Lucky in the sense that you can't hypnotize me into doing what you want?" Natalie asked, bitterly. "Like what you did to Debbie?"

Janette's sharp intake of breath told her that she'd scored with that, but there was no victory or triumph in it as she watched Janette deflate slightly before her eyes. To most anyone else it wouldn't have been noticeable--the slight drop of her shoulders the tentative movement of her eyes. But Natalie felt as though she was more in tune with Janette tonight than she'd ever been, understood the other woman better than ever before.

And she felt ashamed. "I'm sorry," she said, feeling her cheeks flush. "That was unfair."

"Yes, it was," Janette said, composing herself slightly and taking another sip of her drink. "But also true. I couldn't let her leave without getting medical attention, so it had a greater purpose."

Now it was Natalie's turn to feel stung, and she realized she'd asked for that, but there was no heat in Janette's words. They were stated matter- of-factly, almost without any emotion at all. "Debbie doesn't know anything *but* control," Janette continued. "And she's discovered that sometimes you have a better chance at surviving if you give in to those who have the power to control you."

Then Janette was looking at her thoughtfully again. "You couldn't possibly understand what that's like," she said.

Natalie swallowed, then looked away. "Maybe not," she said. "But everyone is controlled by someone or something. As much as we rationalize about having control, most of it is an illusion."

"Not you," Janette said. "Nicola exerts some control over you, that's true, but only that which you allow him to have."

Natalie didn't know what to say to that, although an objection about Nick controlling her rose to her lips. She actively bit it back, though. Janette was right about that, as much as Natalie hated to admit it.

They sipped their drinks in silence for a few moments, then Janette spoke again, and Natalie thought the other woman might be on the verge of tears. "You have given Nicola back some sense of joy in living," she said.

"I will always be grateful to you for that."

Natalie blinked in surprised, hearing words she never expected to pass Janette's lips where she was concerned. "I--"

Janette held up a hand to silence her. "And thank you for coming here tonight. For taking care of Debbie."

Safer territory, Natalie realized, and she nodded. "I'm glad I could help.

You know you can call me if . . ."

Something in Janette's look caused her words to trail off. There was that sad look again as Janette spoke.

"I'm afraid I won't be burdening you with this again," Janette said. Now she was looking anywhere but across the table, at the unlit cigarette in her hand, at the painting above the bar, at the few dancers out on the floor. "I will be leaving Toronto very shortly."

The last was made as an announcement, almost defiantly, and Natalie's eyes widened at her words. "Leaving?" she echoed. "Why?"

Janette shrugged. "It's time to move on." Then she looked directly at Natalie. "I'm only telling you because you shouldn't come here anymore. Under any circumstances." Janette took another sip. "I've sold the club . . . to someone who would not be as tolerant of your presence here as I am. It wouldn't be safe for you."

Natalie was still stunned at Janette's announcement. And she sensed that Janette wasn't telling her the whole truth. "Does Nick know?"

Janette shook her head sharply. "No, he doesn't. And you must promise not to tell him."

"He'll be upset," Natalie said, trying to digest Janette's bombshell.

"Of course he will," Janette said, and there was only the smallest trace of satisfaction in her voice. 'He may even try to come after me."

At that, Natalie looked up sharply, suddenly fearful because she knew that Janette was absolutely right.

"I won't pretend that that idea would upset me, Natalie. I would be very happy if Nicola would leave this place to join me."

Natalie breathed deeply. "You're forcing him to choose," she observed, and that only half-buried resentment toward Janette surfaced momentarily. "Up the stakes. You or me, is that it?" When Janette was silent, Natalie pressed. "What if he decides to stay?"

"What if he chooses you, you mean?" Janette asked, finally lighting her cigarette. "For your sake, I hope he doesn't. Things are likely to get . . . difficult for you if that happens."

Natalie bit back her sharp reply, realizing that Janette was absolutely serious. And then she realized why Janette was leaving. The real reason, not the smoke and mirrors reasons Janette was giving her, the rationalizations and the excuses. The truth struck her like a lightening bolt, and she blurted it out before she could stop herself.

"LaCroix is making you leave, isn't he?"

Even in the semi-darkness of the club, Natalie watched as what little color there was in Janette's face drained away, leaving her skin impossibly white. It made her seem suddenly fragile, as if the slightest gust of wind would blow her to dust. And it told Natalie everything, explained so much about Janette's surprisingly tender attitude toward Debbie. The conversation they'd just had about control.

There was too much of Janette, the real Janette, on the surface right now, and Natalie felt a fierce protectiveness wash through her at the realization.

That was immediately quashed by the look of disdain that crossed Janette's features. "Think that if you wish," she said. "I'm certain the same thing will occur to Nicola once he hears the news. Which, I have your word, he will not hear from you?"

Natalie was torn. There was a part of her that was about to tell Janette off, tell her that she wasn't about to play this game. Not Janette's game.

Not LaCroix's game. She wasn't their pawn in this battle, and it was damn well time they all learned that. At the same time she wanted to reassure Janette, tell her that if she didn't want to leave no one could make her. That she was free to do as she chose and that she would help in any way she could.

As Janette waited expectantly for her answer, Natalie opened her mouth to urge Janette to stand up to LaCroix, and then shook her head slowly in defeat, realizing that this wasn't her battle. Finally looking away, she said, "I won't tell him." Then she looked back, "But I really think you should. You owe him that, at least."

Instead of replying, Janette pushed her chair back and rose, waving someone from the bar over with an abrupt nod of her head. "I know you wanted to stay with Debbie, but it's very late, and I think you should go home, doctor."

Natalie started to protest, but something in Janette's expression changed her mind. It wasn't pleading exactly. It was more like a request for understanding and cooperation.

"I suppose you're right," Natalie said finally, giving in. "You have my number if you need me?" she asked, knowing full well that Janette did. That was how Janette had reached her earlier.

"Yes," Janette replied after a moment of hesitation. "Miklos will walk you to your car," she said as a tall, dark complexioned man approached them. "This isn't a safe neighborhood and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you," she said, cutting Natalie's protests off. "Thank you, Doctor Lambert."

"You're welcome," Natalie said, allowing Miklos to help her on with her coat, but snatching up her medical bag before he could grab it and carry it for her. "And good-bye," she added. She wasn't going to exactly miss Janette after she was gone, but she felt as though she were losing a vital link to Nick's past. More importantly, she knew she was losing an ally, however reluctant and tenuous an ally she might be.

For a moment, Natalie didn't think Janette was going to respond. Then she said, "Watch yourself," before turning on her heel and disappearing into the back where Debbie was sleeping.

Natalie looked after her for several long moments, but started when Miklos touched her lightly on the arm, Then Natalie turned and silently followed him out of the club.