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The empty place	By : Playmara Category: Anita Blake > General Views: 1538 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Anita Blake series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The empty place
- 1
Yet again this was inspired by a Lord of the Ring fiction. I should really start to remeber what I read to be able to give credits.
It is a bit twisted :(

For Micahskitty who asked someone to shoot Jean-Claude. Happy? Such a mean request! And he is NOT whiny, he is only misunderstood! He is my favorite *sniffels*

The story is written only for the pure joy of writting. No money is made from it, and if you are not familiar with Laurell K. Hamiltons great work, go and raide you nearest book store!

At first Anita had been angry with Jean-Claude. All of a sudden he ceased to call her, the weekly roses stopped to appear in the front of her door, not one word from him, even his metaphysical shields were jammed forcefully into place. When he was pissed about something he could at least tell her the reason, she thought and avoided his establishments and especially the Circus of the Damned in turn.

Now she was taking turns with Richard, Micah and Asher to sit with him, occasionally forcing the smallest amounts of blood down the vampire's throat.

It was her turn now, and even an earlier call from the police had been unable to call her away from her lover's side. She found herself absentmindedly stroking Jean-Claude's brow. After pricking her left index finger with a small knife, she rubbed it against the pale lips. A few droplets of the precious moisture made it past her charge’s lips and Anita sighed dejectedly.

“Please, at least try to come back to us. We are all here for you!" She pleaded, unsure if the vampire even heard her at all, but stubbornly refusing to give up on him. She had never seen a more pitiful sight and her heart went out to him.

But either Jean-Claude ignored her on purpose, or he was unable to react to her words. He did not twitch one finger, and his mind stayed as unreachable to Anita as it had been the last eleven months. How long would Jean-Claude survive in this state? His body perhaps until the end of the world, but would anything of himself be left?

“What shall I do?” Anita asked herself and sighed, tucking the warm blanket tighter around the skeletal form. Perhaps it would have been more appropriate to ask what *could* she do?

“Nothing, now,” whispered her guilty conscience. And she felt like kicking herself. Why had she not acted, when Jean-Claude had called her and had asked for a scant hour of her time? In retrospect she thought he had sounded anxious. Frightened. She had only snapped at him, angry that he had the nerve to call her at all, when he knew that her family was visiting her and she was trying to placate them by hushing up how deep her involvement with the monsters ran.

Why for heavens sake had she not agreed to speak with him and had insisted on her bitch routine? One of her friends had been in need of her help and she had withheld it, or at least refused to recognize his need, only because she was always ready to assume the worst of him. But he had not been selfish, she had been, he had been driven by near panic.

Later she had learned part of what had troubled him from Asher. She had never cared much for vampire politics and had neglected to ask what it was exactly that Jean-Claude had to give in return when he ransomed Damien. It turned out that he had agreed to pay his debt in the only way he knew, with himself. He should take Damiens place at his former mistress side for thirty nights, but he had neither counted on Belle Morte being invited for the fun as well nor that his human servant would forsake him. Asher and Anita could not figure out what exactly the two vengeful bitches had done to their sweety. They had clearly tortured him, but they could not figure out what caused his catatonic state.

Exactly thirty nights after the phone call, Anita had found a coffin on her doorstep, she nearly stumbled over it on her way to her jeep. Inside had been Jean-Claude. Her frustration and anger about the way he had suddenly ignored her had evaporated, seeing his wasted state. His black leather trousers, which had once fitted Jean-Claude perfectly, now hung loose around the skeletal frame. The blue eyes lacked life or energy and lay deeply sunken in the sockets. Pale, thin skin covered his face and hands, but what worried her most was that she could not rouse him.

One year passed and Anita lost the little hope she had had, realizing Jean-Claude was lost to them. The normally expressive deep sea blue eyes remained closed, the dark-haired vampire’s body motionless and Anita reckoned that Jean-Claude only stayed alive or undead because of his bond with Richard and her. She had no idea what was going on in Jean-Claudes’s head; if he had chosen to stay in this state to spite her, or if only emptiness remained where keen intelligence and a sly mind had resided before. She had not the power to change anything. That drove Anita crazy. She would have gladly fought any enemy, put up with every danger to help him, but to be damned to sit on his bedside and do nothing was maddening.

Jean-Claude remained unreachable and only the few droplets of potent blood that occasionally made it past his lips kept him alive. Neither Richard nor she had kept up their resolve not to let anyone feed from them. Funny, uh?

One day Anita had been so desperate that she raided the nearest gastronomic specialties shop, and had tried to coax a reaction from the sweet loving vampire eating her way though them until she was absolutly stuffed. She had also brought an expensive bottle of his favorite wine, and promised him to drink all of it, if he only would let her know in any way that he wanted it.

Nothing.

One more year passed and yet Jean-Claude remained lost to them. Anita kept visiting her lover, and so did Richard, Jason and Micah. Asher had taken over as interim master of the city. With all groups of shifters as his ally and a ruthlessness Jean-Claude had always lacked he had enough power to wield to keep their territory safe.

He spent as much time as possible with Jean-Claude, holding him in his arms, rubbing his back and talking to him.

All of them would sit with their charge, touch him, caress his hair and try to bring him out of his vegetative state, but Jean-Claude never reacted to their presence. The raven haired Vampire had become skeleton-like. His bones stuck out of his skin; his features were sunken and his body seemed frozen in time.

Asher had taken it upon himself to put Jean-Claude through a daily regime of physical exercises that Dr. Lilian had come up with. Often the other vampires had seen him wipe away his red tinged tears when leaving Jean-Claude’s room.

Anita, who was rubbing Jean-Claude’s boney fingers, swallowed hard. This was not fair, and she wondered if Jean-Claude would not be better of to be truly dead at last, she played with one of her silver daggers. But as often as she had killed, she could not find her way to the peaceful white room with the static noises. She nearly choked on the fierce emotions running through her. Here she was again, failing him.

Micah had entered unnoticed, to take his turn. He sensed the distraught state Anita was in and after silently drawing in a deep breath he offered. “We all are doing what we can, and you would give your own life to bring him back.” Reassuringly he laid his hand on Anita's shoulder and drew her in a tight hug. But the tears he expected never came. None were left.

After he had seen Anita to the door, Micah turned around and sat down on the side of Jean-Claude's bed. It had become second nature to all three caretakers to take the raven-haired vampire’s hand and stroke his hair, which was still washed and neatly combed each day. One of them made sure Jean-Claude was always presentable. He had always been obsessed with his clothes and appearance and would have loathed to be dirty and unkempt. So they did what they could.

Micah picked up the book from the nightstand and tried to locate the passage he had been reading to Jean-Claude, the last time he had visited.
Later he would try to make him to swallow some blood, and it made him wonder if there was any hope left, not even the blood craving kicked in any longer, so he would have to message Jean-Claudes throat to make him swallow at all.

Unexpectedly it was always Richard who fiercely denied the possibility that Jean-Claude was finally lost. Perhaps he had realized what the vampire could have done to his pack, to him, if he only had wanted to. Richard had witnessed the unlucky fate of Verne's pack, after a less amicable master vampire had forced them into submission. He had humiliated and degraded the wolves in every way he could and resorted to torture and loved it. Sharing his power or accepting them as sentient beings let alone equals had not been on this vampires agenda.

As always, only after one had lost something valuable, could one recognize what one had. In Richard's case he realized that he had a true friend in the vampire, and knew he was trying hard to repay his friend and redeem his former attitude.

When Jason had asked him once: “Do you think he will ever return to us? Or will he stay like this for ever?"

Richards eyes filled with compassion, looking at the fragile forlorn form in the huge bed and answered:
“I have to believe he will wake up one day,” in a determined tone. “I am convinced Jean-Claude is still in there and that he will come back to us.”

A deep sense of caring love had settled in the Ulfric's heart. “I want to see him healed one day, and I will be there for him when he finally wakes up!” he pledged to himself.

Richards’s face was an open book to Anita, who shared Richard's hope that Jean-Claude would eventually find the strength to find his way back to them. But unlike the werewolf, she was afraid that day would never come.

It was Micah's turn to give Jean-Claude a sponge bath, wash his hair and comb it. His touches were light and comforting whilst he took care of his charge. He had lost count of the many times he had done this for the vampire, and yet he still made sure he treated him with the greatest possible care.

Micah had maneuvered Jean-Claude into a sitting position to braid the long, dark hair, and now that he had finished his job, he slowly eased Jean-Claude back onto his side again. Micah was about to smooth back a stray lock, when his hand froze in mid-air.

Jean-Claude had finally opened his eyes and was now looking at him and the thin, nearly bloodless lips were moving, but Micah could not pick up any sound. He gathered one bony hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly fumbling for his cell phone in one of his pockets. He called Anita, and told her the happy news.

When Anita arrived Jean-Claude sighed deeply. He had been dimly aware about how much his protectors had fused over him and he had greatly enjoyed the soft touches and meaningless reassuring words Micah had so affectionately bestowed upon him. He had felt safe in Micah's arms the last few minutes, a strange feeling.

Now he was glad that Anita had finally arrived. Jean Claude was trying to move his hands, but his fingers refused to cooperate. Feeling utterly helpless, he wondered how he was ever going to manage to convey what he needed to tell his Ma Petite.
She looked stunning like always. Small, with dark hair tumbling down her back, huge black eyes and self-confidence radiating from her.

Anita sensing his struggle went to him and enfolded him in her arms, rocking him slightly. Micah left to give them some privacy, and again Jean-Claude was glad.

He could feel how the metaphysical chains tugged on his spirit to draw him back into the cold lonely prison, his mind had been locked away all these years. He did not want to go back there. He hated that lonely place. It had cost all his strength to escape for a short while, and he knew it was his last chance to cross Belle's plan to take him over. He was frightened of this lonely place, but the thought that she was close to success, to turn him into her tool to hurt his friends, set him on the edge of panic. The loving care he had received from his friends had strengthened his resolve to escape his prison to protect those he loved just as dearly.

“Kill me.” He mouthed and already feeling how he lost the little control over his body he had gained he added “please.”

To his horror, Anita shook her head. “Everything will be all right” she promised. “We will take care of you, until you are fully recovered. You will grow strong again.” She offered him her wrist, still cradling his head in her lap, stroking his suddenly clammy brow. “You should feed and then rest a little while. I missed you so much, and Jason, Richard and Asher will be overjoyed that you are back with us!”

He felt himself slipping away again, into the darkness and loneliness. Once being back, he was sure he would be broken for good. He would be a prisoner in his own body, and Belle would make him hurt his friends. Never!

In a desperate attempt to make Anita understand, he lowered his shields a little bit. Hopefully not enough to drag her down with him but enough to let her see what was inescapably happening to him. Anita searched his still lovely blue eyes, lowered him back into his nest of cushions and kissed him deeply.

“Hadn’t she understood? Was everything lost? Was….”
There his thoughts stopped, as a silver bullet penetrated the side of his head. Just a little blood dropped onto the white cushion. Anita lowered her Browning, mesmerized watching the brilliant red fluid. She had finally found her empty little room in her head, had been able to kill a helpless man. Her friend. Her lover. Just after she got him back. Did it matter, that he had asked for death?

Anita was not sure she would be able to leave the silent white room, ever. The static noise had been replaced by two faint laughs. She had never noticed how two vampires had slipped into her head in the short moment in which Jean-Claude had lowered his shields in his desperation.

Staring at the raven locks, the white cushion and the red blood, Jason found her. Unresponsive to his calling her name…

The End!
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The empty place