From: Patricia Hanlan A Parent's Duty Part 1 of 5 by Patricia Hanlan * * * * * "Why does the phone always ring when I'm trying to feed the cat?" Natalie Lambert muttered to herself as she crossed the room with food in hand and a cat around her ankles. She replied with the perfect answer "It must be a plot to make Sydney miserable." When she got untangled from said feline, she was able to stop the ringing. "Hello" "Hi Nat, it's Nick" "Ah, it *is* a conspiracy" "What?" "Forget it, I was in the middle of a conversation with myself. Hello. For what do I owe this not-quite-sunset call. The Williams case is all wrapped up, right?" "And", continued Nick, "we both have the night off. The AGO is open late tonight and there is an exhibit that I want to see. Would you like to come?" "Of course." * * * * * Well, thought Natalie, Jocelyn Andrews was certainly a wonderful painter. She and Nick had gone through the three room exhibit, studying the canvasses that almost universally spoke of strength, love and happiness. Natalie watched Nick as, for the third time, he ended up in front of the only dark painting in the room. It was an almost formal portrait of a bride and groom, happy and secure in their wedding day finery, in front of a window open to a moonlit garden. The second time Nick had stopped there, Natalie had taken a closer look and realized that the painting wasn't as upbeat as first impressions had implied. The pose was as any wedding day shot, but the bride had tears on her face, and while one hand was securely wrapped around her husband's arm, the other was reaching towards someone outside the scene. Her hand was being grasped by that "off-stage" someone but was slipping away. The painting was entitle "Goodbye". Nick was in front of the painting, staring at the two hands, when Natalie decided she couldn't take it anymore. "Nick, what's the deal with the painting?" Nat's voice shook Nick out of his reverie. "What painting?" "The one that you are standing in front of for the third time in an hour. It looks like the father doesn't want to let his little girl go. Who is it?" "Me" **Flashback, Antwerp, 1519 "Nicholas, I am going to marry Laurent." "What? You can't do that. Your place is here." Evening twilight was giving up to let night fall upon the city. Nicholas had not noticed that Jocelyn had spent the daylight hours packing her few belongings. "Nicholas, look at me. I am serious. I love him, and I want a life with him. You seem to be waiting for your master to return. What you have told me of him made me realize that I don't want to live like that. Laurent is older than me. We can survive by ourselves." "We are blood, Jocelyn. You must come with me. I am the one who will provide for you, keep you safe." "Will you push me into anger so that I run away? Will you come after me again and again? Will you be like LaCroix? You barely recognize what has happened to you. You are so afraid of him, that you never truely run away, you always let him find you. I do not want to live like that." Her voice had grown loud in her anger. She was shouting at Nicholas for the first time since they had met. Nicholas opened his mouth to reply with a biting retort, then he stopped. He turned and sprawled across a nearby chair. Jocelyn did not move, did not breath, as she watched him think it through. Eventually, he stood. The set of his shoulders told her that he might let her go, but there was a dangerous look in his eye. "I am not so afraid of him. We are bound together, no matter what our current agreements or disagreements are. That is the bond of master and fledgling, father and son, brother and brother. You do not want this thing, and for some unknown reason I am going to let you go." He paused, the stepped closer to her. "I give you this word of warning though: I will probably never be this generous again with something that is rightfully mine. I do not *ever* want to see you again. You are *not* my daughter, and never have been. Leave me." His quiet words were much more potent than her shouted phrases had been. Her eyes grew wide, and she fled, grabbing her trunk and flying into the just darkened sky. **end flashback "Nick, you haven't seen her in almost five hundred years? How did you know this was her?" "I recognized the style from when she was first starting to paint, then I saw this painting in a museum brochure" "Will you look for her?" Nat could see the longing on his face, then the resignation. "No. I don't think I can. I rejected her, when all she wanted was my support." Nick paused, then smiled a bit as he turned to Natalie. "On the other hand, this painting was bought, through a very transparent middle man, by a Monsieur de Brabant. If she wants to find me, she can." Natalie smiled back at him and took his hand as they walked out of the gallery. * * * * * Several weeks later spring was thinking about turning to summer, and even late nights at the AGO did not go long past sunset. Not that he had the time, thought Nick, as he and Schanke were parking on Bloor, in front of another suspected homicide. Bloor, already a busy street, was lit up by lights on two squad cars, a fire truck, and the headlights of gawkers trying to see what interesting thing they were passing. The detectives' I.D. gave them easy passage to the second floor office, set above a row of store fronts. Taking a peek at the mailboxes on the way up the stairwell, the building was occupied by several apartments, a tattoo parlor, a chiropractic clinic and a teen crisis hotline office. The firemen and the crime scene people were trying to move around one another in front of the teen crisis office. Nick and Schanke let the fire department people leave, then went inside to get a first look at things before getting information from anyone on the scene. The crisis center consisted of two very small rooms. The first was a small reception area, with a desk, 5 chairs by a wall, and a bulletin board covered with job advertisements, concert postings and announcements for colleges around the city. The second room contained tables against three of the walls, six chairs, six telephones, a liberal scattering of paperwork, a dead body, an axe, a bunch of soggy ashes, and a beautiful coroner. "Hi guys" said Natalie, after she let them take in the scene, cutting in when Nick was appreciating her dress, "Your victim is Eric Fletcher, 32. My first guess to cause of death is that axe over there, since his head is only half attached, but I'll get back to you on that." "Sure Nat", quipped Schanke, "are you positive he didn't slip and fall?" She smirked at him, then said, "Actually, I'm a font of information tonight. We have a pretty good idea of the time of death, because he was on the phone when he died, and the kid called 911. Also, the fire department received a 911 call within five minutes of that, because of the smoke pouring out of the office window". One of the tables, not the one that the late Eric Fletcher was draped over, had obviously been fuel for the mentioned fire, as was the chair closest to it. The melted plastic of the chair gave the crime scene a much more nauseous smell than usual. "My big mystery for you detectives", continued Natalie, "is how or why the fire was started, and then all of your regular 'who-done-it stuff." Schanke moved towards table without ashes or a body on it, and started sifting through the soggy papers. "Well, maybe this paperwork will dry during the day, so we can get some phone logs out of this mess tomorrow." "The phone company should be able to help to, Schanke" added Nick. "Right, you make that call and then *you* can get stuck with the paperwork tomorrow night. I'll start the day guys looking for witnesses and will update the captain. It's almost sunrise, so you better get home before you fry." he nodded at Nick and Natalie. "I'm outta here, folks. See ya tomorrow" Nick was about to follow him out when a look from Natalie stopped him. "What is it Nat?" "Take a look at these ashes Nick. Some on the chair and some on the charred phone are different than the others, not made by paper. I've taken some samples to test, but it might be something out of the ordinary." She was trying to look casual, in case someone came in, but Nick could tell she was worried. Nick took a closer look at the ashes, then backed up, straightening and looking at her. "I think you're right Natalie. Someone else died here tonight" * * * * * end Part 1 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Parent's Duty Part 2 of 5 * * * * * "Hi Nat." Nick's voice in her ear made her jump. She turned around and poked her finger into his chest. "Can't you at least stomp if you're not going to knock?" She moved around the unrepentant vampire and her desk in the coroners building to reach for a plastic bag filled with black soot. "This is definitely vampire ash Nick. You have to assume the vampire was killed first, taken by surprise. The Fletcher body also showed no signs of a struggle. Could they both have been killed in one stroke?" "Possible, but not probable." Nick took the bag from her and opened it, sniffing slightly. An odd look passed across his face as he gave the ash back to her. "What is it, Nick?" Nick just shrugged and crossed to the door, leaving Natalie to wonder why nearly invincible creatures found their own mortality so shocking. * * * * * As Schanke walked into the station, Nick was already at his desk, a phone in his hand. Mark this day down, he thought, I'm later than Nick. As he approached, Nick put down the phone, not looking too happy. "Hi Schanke, what did the day people come up with?" His correct guess for the reason for Schanke's tardiness won him a grin. "Nada, partner. No one saw anything." They both grimaced at one another, knowing that your average citizen didn't see what they had for breakfast, if a police officer was asking. "Well, Nat said that there were no signs of a struggle on the body. She will have the report ready soon. I've been looking at the report from the phone company, but most of the numbers are from pay phones. The few numbers that I have tried have not been incredibly helpful." As the detectives were chatting, they could hear the desk sergeant directing someone towards them. "The Fletcher case? That's detectives Knight and Schanke. They're over there." Schanke saw a young woman in jeans and a black leather jacket. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, leaving her pale features unadorned. Schanke was trying to guess her age as Nick rose and turned to great her. Schanke saw what little colour that was in her face drain away as she stopped in front of his partner. "De..Detective Knight?" Nick just nodded in reply. After a pause, she raised a hand to him, and inclined her head as Nick brushed his lips across her knuckles. "Bon soir, Madame Andrews" She took her hand back so it could clutch its partner, and stared at Nick as a myriad of emotions ran across her face. No one, with the exception of Natalie Lambert, could know how much knowledge, acceptance, and pleas for forgiveness were communicated in the title Madame given to the woman in front of Nick. The tableau held as neither seemed to be able to break the tense silence. Seeing their predicament, Schanke did the honours. "Well," he said loudly, "I think I'll get a coffee. Would either of you like one?" Getting no response, he left, muttering about partners who knew too many beautiful women. As Schanke left, Nick could see the vampire in front of him get herself together. "Nicholas, I um.. I didn't know you worked here." "Don't worry. What can I do for you?" "Well, I was on Bloor last night. I called the fire department. I work at the crisis center, so I thought I could help out. Boy, this was a really dumb idea. I .. I better go" She started backing away, speaking faster as she did. "Jocelyn" Nick's soft voice pulled her back to him. "Who else died there?" "How? How did you know?" She almost took a handful of his shirt to shake the answer out of him, then stopped. "The coroner recognized it, recognized the ashes. She's a friend. Who was it Jocelyn?" "It was Laurent." her voice broke as she said the name. **Flashback, Antwerp, December 1517 Nicholas had brought his daughter across early in the year 1517. As the year ended, he looked back on all that he had taught her. The young woman had barely spent any time in Antwerp as a mortal and Nicholas has taught her how the city lives at night, how to hunt, and how to deal with mortals. Perhaps his favorite lessons were the art lessons that filled their afternoons. She could draw very well, and her vampiric memory let her lend detail, that most would miss, to any sketch. At the end of the year, after using nightly walks to learn how to interact with mortals, they were attending a large party, hosted by one of the richest merchants in the city. They were dressed in their best clothes, and mingled with the merchants, the governments officials and the ladies, avoiding what clergy were there. As Nicholas saw Jocelyn begin to become edgy, he brought her into a dark corner, out into the snow covered garden. As they moved out of the house, someone was trying to come in. In an instant they recognized the third person as another vampire. He was about as tall as Nicholas, with dark hair and eyes that were almost black. He glanced at Nicholas, then focussed his attention on Jocelyn. "Good evening. My name is Laurent d'Anjou" **end flashback "I am so sorry, Jocelyn, I truly am." She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. Nick watched Jocelyn struggle with something. Certainly grief was a part of it. He could barely empathize, not even wanting to know how he would feel if Jannette died. Something *else* was keeping her tense though, not letting the grief out. "What is it, ma petite? What else is there?" The endearment floated over here, allowing her worries to come out. "Who do you think did it? Eric was a friend, he knew what we were. Was it the enforcers? Will they also be after me? Can I ask for your help? I promised.. I am not..." "Shh. All those years ago you were very right, and I was very wrong... in everything I said. You can ask me to help. We are blood. If you are willing to step into my life, I will be here for you." Nick raised his hand to cup her jaw, to run his thumb over her cheek bone. "You *are* my child. Always." Jocelyn fell into Nick's arms then, crying into his jacket. "Nicholas, what should I do. I'm crying. I don't want to cry" **Flashback, Antwerp, January 1517 Nicholas de Brabant walked the streets of Antwerp alone. Janette and LaCroix had gone off somewhere. Well, first he had left in a huff and when he returned to Paris, they were gone. That was o.k. though. He wanted to be alone, away from his master for a time. They would find each other soon enough. In the mean time, he was near his ancestral home, the winter was not too cold, and Antwerp had a steady food supply for someone like himself. The ups and downs of the diamond and economic markets made paupers of many and left people out alone at night. What Nicholas did not expect was that after a few months he would be lonely. He *did* converse with people who would stay late at the diamond exchange to accomodate an eccentric merchant, but he had no one to talk to on a day to day basis. As he walked near the docks, he heard a sound, faint though it was, coming from a doorway in a small cross street. When he went to the sound, he saw a small figure curled up against the cold, sobbing into a scarf. As he turned the scarf away, he saw a young woman, her face battered and bruised, sobbing the words "I don't want to cry" over and over again. "And why is that, little one?" His voice startled her. "Because it means that they have won. They can take my money and my clothes and my body by force, but I don't want to give them my tears." "Who are 'they'?" "You didn't see them? Sailors on the merchant ships. If the taverns are too expensive, they take their recreation out into the street." Just then, a group of men came upon them. They were very drunk, not noticing the cold wind coming through their open coats and tunics. "Jacko, haven't we already been here?" The man's three friends laughed with him and they size up the well dressed Nicholas. "Certainly this man can spare us some money" Nick focussed on the group, their heartbeats sounding loud in his ears. "I have nothing. Everyone but Jacko is going to leave, and forget you saw us. You don't know where Jacko went tonight." The three sailors left, leaving Jacko to follow Nicholas up the sidestreet. When Nicholas returned, the young woman was sitting up, looking at him strangely. "I don't know what you are, sir, but you have powers I envy. Could you take me with you? Teach me to do those things?" Nicholas looked at her and was surprised to find that he gave the idea a second thought. ** end Flashback Schanke returned to see the young woman in Nick's arms. He wiggled his eyebrows at some of the other spectators, and kept his distance. No one could hear Nick whispering to the small vampire in his arms. There were words of comfort, words of apology, words of explanation, and, at the end, a bit of a story to feed the watching police officers. Natalie walked into the precinct with the report on the Fletcher case. Walking towards the commotion near Nick's desk, she saw Nick and Jocelyn embracing, and stopped in her tracks. Nick waved to her saying "Natalie, Jocelyn here is very upset. Do you think you can clear the ladies room to give her some space to get herself back together?" *No*, Natalie thought, couldn't be. Then again, Nick's hand was not all that steady on the woman's back. Since Nick was still looking at her, she mouthed "Andrews?" and got a nod in reply. No wonder she has her face buried in his jacket, Nat concluded, and went to help them out. Fifteen minutes later, Amanda Cohen thought that it was about time for her to make an appearance. Detective Knight, missing his jacket, and the young woman who had come to see him were seated at his desk, Schanke chatting to them. The coroner had come and gone with her report. Cohen stepped towards the Detective's desk. "Detective Knight" "Captain. This is Jocelyn Andrews. She helps run the crisis center, and was on Bloor last night. She should be able to help us get through the paperwork from the office and might be able to identify some of the people who entered and exited the building last night." Cohen raised one eyebrow, contemplating an easy investigation, then turned to Andrews. "Ma'am, all of the help you could give us would be invaluable. If you can spare some time now, I can have a sketch artist come and talk to you." Andrews turned to Nick and said "You use a sketch artist?" "My job says detective." Cohen was looking back and forth between to two of them. Jocelyn saw her confusion. "Nicholas taught me to draw. He could easily do any sketches himself." "You have learned much more than I ever taught you. Your canvasses at the AGO say at least that much." "You saw them?" Jocelyn's immediate enthusiasm made Cohen smile, reminding her of her oldest daughter, coming to meet her after a school concert. Nick smiled too and took Jocelyn's hand, positioning it in his, like in the painting. Cohen knew she was missing something, but left, lecturing herself about not poking into your employees' personal lives, unless, of course, it was completely necessary. * * * * * end Part 2 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Parent's Duty Part 3 of 5 * * * * * Schanke watched Nick as he stopped the caddy in front of the address given to them by the phone company earlier in the evening. The call that Eric Fletcher was handling when he died came from this house. The small house had a couple lights shining out of windows, but the porch light was not on and the yard was completely overgrown. Not very inviting. Jocelyn had told them that the call came from a girl named Donna. When Nick had left to get his car, Jocelyn had stopped Schanke to ask him to watch out for Nick. "Nick can take care of himself, don't worry about that Mrs. Andrews." Schanke had said. "I'm afraid of what you will find there, detective. Remember that the most terrible prison is the one with no lock on the door." "What?" "Victims of long term abuse don't realize that they even want to escape. Nick understands this, and I don't know how he will react if he sees it. Just keep an eye on him." With that bit of cryptic warning, Schanke let Nick lead as they knocked on the door. "Miss Varicek? Donna? We are from the police department and would like to talk to you about phone calls you made last night. May we come in?" The door had been open a crack since they had reached the porch stairs. "I don't know, my daddy isn't home." "Don't worry Donna, we just have a couple questions." The door opened to show a girl two or three inches over five feet who looked like she hadn't washed in weeks and had not eaten in at least that long. The dress she wore was old-fashioned and about a size too small for her. She looked up for just a second and Schanke realized that the girl was probably much older than she first looked, she could easily be in her twenties. She looked so lost that Schanke put on "Father mode". "Let's go inside and sit down Donna. We can explain to your father later about why we were here." As they sat on furniture the sixties hadn't been kind to, Schanke got to the point. "Donna, you called the teen crisis center last night and talked to Eric Fletcher, right?" The girl looked past the two police officers to the blank wall behind them. "Daddy told me not to call them. I don't do that anymore." "Did you call 911 last night?" Schanke's next question got her to look at them again. "That lady was nice. Almost as nice as Eric." She kept talking, not noticing that she had mentioned Fletcher. "Daddy wasn't here, so I didn't know if I could call. Was it o.k.?" "Yes Donna, it was a good thing to do." Nick had left when she started talking, and had come back in with a plate of food, if you can call crackers and peanut butter and milk food. Well, the chocolate was food. Nick put the plate in front of Donna then backed away. Donna looked at Nick, eyebrows raised in a question. Nick nodded his head once, and Donna dived onto the food, kneeling in front of the coffee table and eating with her face about two inches above the plate. Schanke looked up from her to Nick, and followed him into the kitchen. Schanke had never seen Nick look so furious. "What is it partner?" Nick moved away so Schanke could see the kitchen. There were chains strung through all of the kitchen cupboards and a padlock on the fridge. Or rather, there had been a padlock on the fridge. "There was a crowbar in the back", Nick lied, "so I took all of the locks off the food in the kitchen. The water doesn't work. Where do you think we can turn it on?" "Probably in the basement Nick." Schanke's stomach was starting to do somersaults as he thought about Jocelyn's line about prisons. He went back to Donna and found her sitting as if nothing had happened, but the plate and glass were empty. "Donna, when was the last time you ate?" "Daddy didn't come home last night." "Donna, do you know that your daddy is not allowed to lock up the food in the kitchen?" "Don't all daddies do that?" "No Donna. Not at all." Schanke shuddered as he thought of his Jenny, happy, healthy and asleep at home. "Donna, why don't you get washed up and change your dress. Detective Knight and I will take you to the police station to ask you a few more questions. We'll leave a note for your father. Jocelyn is there right now. Have you ever talked to her?" "She's nice. I'll be able to see her?" "Sure Donna." * * * * * Schanke spent the rest of the night getting a statement from Donna. The twenty two year old had not been outside of her house in ten years. None of the neighbours knew she lived there. Nice neighbourhood. Donna had called the crisis center when she had locked herself in her room. Her father, an Edward Varicek, had been pounding on the door, telling her that she wasn't supposed to call anyone, ever. She hung up the phone until she heard him leave, smashing a few garbage cans on his way down the street, then called the hotline number again. Eric was trying to get her to leave the house when she heard a door slam over the phone. The next sounds she heard were a thud, a crackling sound, Eric yelling "What the.." and another thud. As Schanke handled the interview, Nick stayed in the background, a haunted look on his face. Schanke guessed that his partner who, on the best of days, was preoccupied, was barely in the building. Schanke did not really want to know what Nick was thinking about. His fury at the state of the Varicek house was a good enough hint. Nick watched Schanke talk to Donna Varicek. He was pulling off exactly the right persona, a soft voice, a confident manner, a fatherly aura. It was getting Donna to talk, to not be afraid of the odd situation she found herself in. Nick was amazed that she would respond to the father figure Schanke represented; it was so unlike the one she had lived with. Nick looked at Schanke. He was a wonderful father. Jenny was luckier than she could ever imagine and would repay Schanke by being a good parent herself. Where does that leave me, Nick asked himself. What sort of father did I think I was going to be? Nick wondered if being a bad parent was also handed down, if that was an excuse of sorts for generations of abuse. Would he have been a LaCroix to Jocelyn, whether he wanted to or not? The thought troubled him. Thinking about his daughter, he left Schanke to go pick up her sketches. Jocelyn was in the next room, paper strewn about on the table in front of her. As Nick walked in, she smiled, and even though it did not reach the grief in her eyes, it lightened Nick's heart none the less. "What have you got for me Jocelyn?" Nick moved behind her chair to see what she was sketching. The faces on the current piece of art paper included himself, Natalie, Schanke and Captain Cohen. He smiled at the drawing of Schanke sitting on his desk, coffee in one hand, the other out to make a point, his mouth half open, his eyebrows reaching towards his receding hairline. "Can I frame this?" "Sure. Actually, recreation aside, I have sketches of the people I saw entering and leaving the building. Can you look at them first, to see if you recognize...." "Anyone from the community? That's why I'm here first." Nick perched on the corner of the table to look through a small pile of sketches that had been placed in a corner. The third sketch he set aside. "This matches the picture of Edward Varicek that I saw at his house." One of the other sketches looked familiar. As he paused, he remembered someone brought in on an armed robbery charge who had been *so* uncooperative, Nick had had to help some of the uniforms get him into booking. Jocelyn was watching Nick's face, so saw the surprise, the shock and the anger come into his eyes as he looked at the last sketch. "What is it?" Nick put the last sketch face up in the middle of the table. Even drawn from memory, the dark jacket and the pale spiked hair surrounded a face Nick knew too well. "LaCroix" * * * * * end Part 3 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Parent's Duty Part 4 of 5 * * * * * Nick and Jocelyn were in the caddy, driving to his place before the sun rose. Schanke, obviously shaken by the Varicek situation, had taken Donna home with him while the day people were looking for her father. Nick had not been wrong about the sketch, so there were several reasons the police wanted to talk to Edward Varicek today. Nick already had a long range plan for the Varicek girl. If her father was going to try to block it, well, it had not been that long since he had killed someone. He had not forgotten how to hide a body. Jocelyn watched Nick brood about the current case he was working on. She knew that there were a lot of disturbing things that had happened tonight, and she couldn't see things getting much better. Well, she would brave a question. "Nick, what does LaCroix do with his time? You seemed surprised at first that he might be out on the streets in the evening." Nick turned to look at her. "He owns a radio station in the city and runs an all night talk show. He calls himself the Nightcrawler. Very appropriate, n'est pas?" Nick looked at her again and then, with a little apprehension, turned the radio on. "No I think you have missed the point entirely. Try again in a decade or so." A click was all the reply time that the current caller had received as LaCroix hung up on him. "Ah, what have we here? Surely there are children of the night listening who understand the current discussion. For the little ones who have just tuned in," Jocelyn saw Nick's hands tighten on the steering wheel, "tonight's topic of conversation is duty. What is the duty of the parent? What is the duty of the child? Is it not a parent's duty to protect their children from the world, from their own foolishness, to stop them from making fatal mistakes? And what is a child's duty? To love? To obey? To learn so that they will become responsible parents? The Nightcrawler understands duty, do you? What will you do for your children, for your children's children? For.." Nick snapped off the radio as he turned into his garage. Jocelyn was staring at the radio as if it was going to grow legs. Nick just leaned his head on the steering wheel, trying not to think about how long LaCroix had known Jocelyn was in Toronto. * * * * * At four in the afternoon, Nat thought that Nick and Jocelyn might be awake. Jocelyn had gone to Nick's with no change of clothes, so Nat decided she would bring some over. To be truthful, she said to herself, I just want to see how they are reacting to each other. She didn't think that there were still hard feelings on Jocelyn's part, but you never know. Nat let herself in and took the elevator to Nick's apartment. As she came in, she saw Nick on the couch with Jocelyn cuddled in his lap, their faces buried in each other's necks. Well, thought Natalie, no hard feelings there. As her anger rose, she moved back into the elevator to slam the door shut. Before the door closed, Jocelyn was in front of her, having moved across the room in a fraction of a second. Jocelyn was wearing a very large pair of black silk pajamas and red tracks of tears had dried on her face. "Natalie, don't leave. Let me explain." Natalie's face hardened as, when the black silk shifted, she saw the bite mark. She moved back again. "Natalie," Jocelyn started again, her voice weak as she teetered in front of the angry coroner, "You mean so much to him. Don't leave until I can tell you why." As Jocelyn's knees buckled, Natalie's medical instincts overcame her immediate emotions and she helped the small vampire to the floor. Nick came up beside her with a mug in his hand. He carefully sat Jocelyn up so she could drink. "Things are getting very compicated Nat." Nick did not sound all that much better than Jocelyn, but he had tried to clean the tear marks from his face. "We had to know about each other's lives. By sharing our blood, we could reestablish old bonds and catch up with five hundred years of events in an instant." Nick did not know if Nat would take that as a reasonable excuse, but he picked Jocelyn up, put her on the couch and went to the kitchen to get himself a drink. Natalie followed Jocelyn, and helped her sit up as some little colour returned to her face. "You are the most important person to have ever come into his life Natalie." Jocelyn looked at the woman, the mortal, her father loved. "Don't ever stop believing that. He is in a precarious position, and you are one of the few people who can help if this life he has built here ever starts to fall apart." Natalie looked at the young woman, forgetting her age and just seeing a young woman in her twenties, struggling to deal with life but ready to take on what obstacles came her way. Natalie smiled and wiped the tear tracks off of the cool, beautiful face. Nick took the gesture as a sign of truce, and walked towards them, with a refilled mug in his hand for Jocelyn and a coffee for Natalie. "Ladies", he said with a little bow to get their attention as he put their drinks on the table in front of them. His court-like manners, combined with his sincere expression, clear eyes, tousled hair and black pajamas were too much to deal with. Both Natalie and Jocelyn laughed until they had to lean on each other not to fall over. This was definitely a better way to start the afternoon off. The rest of the daylight hours were spent watching Nat's favorite movie (Interview with the Vampire) and getting Jocelyn's opinion on the ten best candidates for celebrities who had probably already been brought across. As Nick came back from his bedroom at sunset, dressed for work, his phone rang. "Knight here" "Hey Nick, it's me" "Schank, what's up?" His partner's name got the attention of the two women, who now followed Nick's half of the conversation. "We've got a body near the CNE grounds. They are calling us in on it because the dead guy matches one of our sketches from last night." "Who is it?" "Edward Varicek." * * * * * Nick had grudgingly left Jocelyn at his apartment. He was starting to feel very jumpy about the whole situation. When he walked into the station to meet up with Schanke, Donna was sitting next to Schanke's desk and two people were in the Captain's office. Nick waved at Schanke and Donna, who looked much better with clean hair and clothes that fit, but he was stopped from saying anything when the Captain called him in. "Detective Knight, this is Mr. Silverman and Miss Cantrell. They have instructions to report to you." The look on the Captain's face said that she wanted to know what was going on. Quickly. "Detective Knight," Mr. Silverman started after hands hand been shook, "I am a lawyer who helps administer a group of holdings called the de Brabant foundation. We received instructions this afternoon to come here, find Donna Varicek and take her away from her current living situation. We are to make sure she has food, shelter, educational and phsycological testing so that she can recover from the abuse she has suffered and enter into society with all of the choices for her future that she wants to look at. My instructions are to show you that these things have been accomplished. Miss Cantrell runs a small home with six girls in it. She will be paid well enough so that she will have to take on no new cases until Donna has been taken care of." Silverman handed a folder of documents to Nick, who flipped through the letters of recommendation for Miss Cantrell and the financial set up that had been created this afternoon for a trust fund for Donna Varicek. He looked up at the two people in front of him and nodded. "This is good. We haven't told Donna yet, but her father was killed last night. I suggest that Miss Cantrell go to her immediately and work with Detective Schanke. One of you has to help her with the grief and confusion she will feel at her father's absence." He nodded again and the two people left the office. Cohen was looking at her eccentric detective in a new light. He had just ordered those very well paid people around like he did it every day. Well, maybe he did, for all she knew. "Detective?" her look said that she wanted some kind of explanation. "Umm, maybe I made a call to a friend of mine today?" The look of total innocence had shown up on his face so quickly that it could only be fake. Cohen decided to let it ride, and nooded *her* head once, dismissing him. Apparently, he could take those sorts of orders as well as he gave them. * * * * * Schanke was still talking about Silverman and Cantrell when he and Nick walked into the coroner's lab. He quickly filled Natalie in with, let's say, *interesting*, descriptions of the high priced suits. His final thought was that they better treat the kid well, or he would go after them himself. About halfway through his narrative, Nat gave Nick a sharp, why-didn't-you-tell-me-what-you-were-up-to look. His completely innocent expression failed for the second time that night. With his story-telling done for the evening, Schanke turned to the reason for their visit to the morgue. "So what's the story with Edward here?" "Very dead, Schanke." Nat was rewarded with two grimaces for her attempt at coroner's humor. "Hit on the head, throat torn apart, brain aneurysm -- take your pick as to the cause of death. The blow to the head was probably against a brick wall. The aneurysm could have gone at any time, but the stress of getting killed probably helped it along." "Any signs of a struggle?" Nick made the question almost absentmindedly. "A few. There were threads under his finger nails. His assailant probably had a wool coat or suit jacket on. Black. The thread is fine, so I would lean towards a suit." Schanke volunteered to get to toxicology report from down the hall, which gave Nick and Nat a chance to ask the important questions. "The throat wounds?" Nick asked. "Done after the fact." "Blood volume?" "Not what it should be Nick, but not completely drained. It's just enough for me to notice. If I hadn't been to the scene, I would have assumed he bled out." "What *is* he up to?" Nat knew that Nick was silently raging at LaCroix and saw his eyes grow distant as he slipped into his memories. What she didn't guess was that the memeories were not twenty four hours old. Nick could hear LaCroix on the radio last night. "What is a parent's duty? What would you do for your children, your children's children?" Nick left without a word, leaving Schanke looking at his back as he came in with the tox report. * * * * * Nick flew back to his apartment to find Jocelyn at his easel, painting with large brush strokes and dark colours. Nick started talking to her back. "Jocelyn, I think maybe you should spend the night at the police station. I... I think Lacroix.." "..killed Laurent? So do I." Her voice rose as she set her brush down hard enough to shake the easel. "Why is he like this? Why am I all of a sudden his possession?" She read the answers in his expression, in his thoughts, in his memories, in LaCroix's monologue from the night before. "Why don't you kill him?" Her voice was exasperated even through her grief and anger. She didn't understand how Nick could deal with this. "I did" "What?" Nick's answer stopped her short. She paused, going over Nick's memories, seeing a burning stake stabbing LaCroix, feeling the necessity of the act and the shock that it was done. Then she remembered seeing LaCroix alive. Jocelyn looked at Nick, his sad expression adding years to his appearance, and started to cry for him. Nick, not really understanding, went to her, hoding her in his lap as he sat on the couch. "You know, you may be 800 years old, but you are as much a prisoner as that poor girl Donna. If she had only a fraction of your strength, she would have been able to get out. "Lacroix fixed that. He killed her father." "No, you fixed it. She will be o.k. because *you* got her the help she needed." Nick held her closer, not really wanting to deal with the truth of her statements. He eventually realized that *Jocelyn* was comforting *him*, because her love for him had no strings attached to it. She did not want to change his life, did not expect anything of him, just let him be himself. He let himself fantasize about them being the only two people in the world for a minute before he brought himself back to reality. "What are you going to do Jocelyn?" Jocelyn put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as she thought. "I need to leave again. Paint. Decide what my life will be like without Laurent." she paused, "I loved him so much Nicholas. We were equals, much like Jannette and yourself, but with no master looming above us, no shadow over our lives." She sat up to look directly at Nick, her hands linked behind his neck. "I have you to thank for that." "It was the right choice. Can I apologize for my angry words? You were right. I may have become Lacroix to you, and I would have hated it. I do not want to be your master. Can I be your father? To guide and protect you if you ask?" "Oui, papa. I love you. I will accept your protection, but how can I protect you from Lacroix?" "You can't, love. Only *I* can to that. It is not really LaCroix that I need protection from, but myself. Being a killer was not the most evil thing I have done. Enjoying it was. This is what our struggle is really about - about whether we should feel remorse for our actions. His biggest danger to me is that he might persuade me that he is right." Nick's voice was soft but upbeat, and Jocelyn thought that he almost believed his own words. "Now" said Nick with a strong voice, as he stood and put her on her own feet, "what have you painted?" He moved to look at the canvass. It was a portrait of someone, a woman, in a dark place. There was a very bright light, the sun, streaming in from a window. The figure was looking in that direction. Nick looked at Jocelyn with concern, moving to hold her face and look into her eyes. "Nick, if I ever decide to walk into the sun, I will let you know." "I promise you, Jocelyn, that niether Lacroix or I will ever be the reason for it." * * * * * end part 4 ------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Parent's Duty Part 5 of 5 * * * * * The next evening found Nick and Schanke at their desks, finishing the paperwork on the Fletcher case, and spinning their wheels on the Varicek murder. Jocelyn was sitting next to Nick's desk, drawing in a sketch pad. The people working in the precinct had almost started ingoring her, moving around as if she had always been there. No one asked why she was still there and Nick let everyone assume what they would. The wave of silence coming from the front of the station caught Schanke's attention. Walking towards them was a tall man in a long black coat and white spiked hair. He walked with absolute confidence and seemed to stop any conversation he got near. Schanke saw Nick stiffen even with his back turned. Nick stood and placed himself in front of Jocelyn who had also risen. Schanke watched Nick's protective gesture to Jocelyn to stay behind him as the tall man stopped inches from his face. As the three paused, Schanke noticed that while Nick was standing his ground, the taller man had moved close enough to ensure that Nick had to look up at him. "Nicholas" the man's voice was soft and carefully held out every syllable of his partner's name. Schanke almost recognized the voice, but couldn't place it. The man tilted his head to one side to see Jocelyn "Ah, *and* the prodigal daughter". Nick said nothing, but bent his head towards the back of the station. The man moved around Nick, sparing a glance at Jocelyn and a sneer at Schanke before leading Nick to one of the interview rooms. When the door had closed, the silent precinct started its normal conversation patterns again, and Jocelyn sank into her chair. "Uh, Jocelyn?" Schanke hesitantly asked when he had her attention, "Who *was* that?" "No one you want to know Detective Schanke." Jocelyn looked directly at Schanke and the detective realized that he didn't really want to know who that was. He did wonder, however, why Jocelyn was so tense. Her hands had ripped the top page of her sketch pad. "Nick leaned against a wall of the interview room, arms crossed, staring silently at LaCroix, who had seated himself comfortably at the only table. He played with the dead microphone and tape recorder. "Nicholas, what wonderful accomodations" "Lacroix." Nick was acknowledging LaCroix's presence, nothing more. "Oh come now, detective, shall we play questions and answers?" "Why did you kill Edward Varicek?" "So he couldn't tell anyone he killed Laurent d'Anjou, why else? Surely you figured that out for yourself." "Why did you have him kill Lawrence Andrews?" Nick used Laurent's most recent alias, trying to keep the conversation on a police level for now. "Don't you slap me around between questions? I was so looking forward to that part." Nick only answered the sarcasm with silence. "O.k., then I guess it's my turn for questions. Why don't *you* tell *me* why I did it?" "To get Jocelyn out in the open." Nick's anger at that made him rise to Lacroix's bait. "Ah yes, Jocelyn. Very silly of you to hide her. How old is she?" "Four hundred and forty" A small pout crossed over Lacroix's lips. "And here I thought she was a mistake from your noble period." He sat up a bit. "No matter. I have come to tell you that she is mine, as you are." Nick stepped away from the wall, standing in front of the seated vampire, the table between them. "She is not yours. She will live her life as she wants. You *will not* interfere. Ever." "That's harsh Nicholas." Lacroix stood and started walking around the room, circling the younger vampire as he stood still, keeping his face close to Nicholas so he could hear his every whisper. "You would deprive her of her grandfather? Her family?" "Yes." Lacroix took his seat again, his feet propped up on the table. He was very much in control of the conversation now and he knew it. "Well, if I am to have this lovely creature taken from me, I must expect something in return." "What do you want Lacroix?" Nick's voice held fear, apprehension and exasperation. Why did all of their conversations seem to contain this question eventually? Lacroix studied his creation for a long moment, letting Nicholas stew. "I want what I always want. I want you to give up this silly quest for a mortal life. I want you to be what I have created you to be." Lacroix paused, so as not to deviate from his original plan. "Today specifically, I want ten days. I want you in my house, in my life, as my son for ten days. Anytime near the summer solstice is fine. I see you have your vacation pencilled in then." Nick looked hard at LaCroix, trying to see past his words to his motivations. "Your word Lacroix, your shadow will never darken her life again." LaCroix nooded his head. Nick hesitated. Could he do this? Could he then come back to what he had now? He quickly realized that it didn't matter because he would *not* let his daughter have to fight over control of her life as he did. Nick nodded his head. At Nick's acquiescence, Lacroix left the room and the station without looking at anyone. No one noticed his passing, except Jocelyn. And Nat. Nat was walking into the precinct, mostly to see how Jocelyn was doing. She didn't have any printable results on the Varicek murder. Just as she was thinking this, she saw Lacroix in front of her. He raised one eyebrow and continued on his way. Nat looked around. No one else seemed to notice him, even though he was only a helmet away from the Darth Vader look. Trying to decide why he would have been here, she looked towards Nick's desk and saw Jocelyn, with a worried frown on her face, make a short wave to her and then glance back towards the interview rooms. Nat immediately walked there, dropping her useless report on Nick's desk and ignoring Schanke's greeting. The second door in the back hall was slightly open. Nat peeked in and saw Nick standing completely still in front of the table. One of the chairs was pushed away from the table at an angle, as if someone had just left. Not knowing what to do, she slid into the room and leaned against the doorframe. Natalie saw the moment that Nick brought himself back from wherever he had been. He took a deliberate breath and pulled one hand out of his pocket to run his fingers through his hair. He hand was far from steady and he brought it back down, looking at it as if it was a foreign object. Nat moved closer. "Nick, what happened?" There was a hint of a harsh laugh in his sigh. "What ever happens when you negotiate with the devil? You lose." Nat moved closer, taking his shaking hand. "Nick.." His shoulders slumped and then he held her close to himself. "I couldn't let him get near her. She has got to be free, as I never was." He stopped, took another calming breath, wondering whether he was justifying his actions to Natalie or himself. He would have to tell Natalie everything. There was no one else, now that Janette had left. "He wanted a deal -- her freedom for ten days of my life. It can't be that bad, can it?" He closed his eyes, turned his face into the sweet fragrance of Natalie's hair, kissed the top of her head, then stepped away, turning so she could not see the absolute panic in his eyes. He had given in too easily. Would ten days be enough for LaCroix to totally control him again? He took one more breath, hoping this time it would ease the tightness across his chest, and left the room. Jocelyn saw Nick walk towards her. His expression was serious, but he found a smile to give her as he reached out a hand. "Come, ma petite, I will help you pack." She took his hand and stepped into his embrace. "Merci, Papa." As the two of them left the station, Schanke watched, head tilted, as Jocelyn's words registered. Schanke left his desk to go back to the interview room. Natalie was seated at the table, holding her head in her hands, massaging her temples. "You know Schanke, life is not fair. How can you make it fair?" She really did not expect a reply to her general wail at the world, but she got one. "You share your french crullers with a friend", he said as he handed her a doughnut. Nat grabbed it and let out a bitter laugh as she left the station. Schanke watched her leave with eyes that understood much more than his inane non-sequiter had hinted at. He then went into the Captain's office to share his latest bunch of observations with her. * * * * * After they had packed up all of her belongings and arranged for a night flight to Chicago, Jocelyn stopped at Nick's apartment. It was an hour before sunrise and she was going to spend her last day in Toronto in the house she and Laurent had shared. Nick was surprised to see her again, thinking that they had said their short goodbyes earlier. "Hi. I brought you a present." Actually, there were *two* framed drawings. He took them from her to look at them in the lit kitchen. The first drawing was the one he had seen her do of Schanke sitting on his desk. The incredibly accurate portrayal of Schanke in the middle of one of his endless stories of his misadventures made Nick smile. The second drawing raised the smile and brought tears to his eyes. It was a picture of Natalie and himself, heads close together. Both of their faces showed signs of age -- crows feet at their eyes, graying hair -- they looked frail, but happy. Nick looked at Jocelyn and in her eyes he saw acceptance of everything he was and everything he wanted to become. She move towards him, set down the pictures and took his hands in hers. "I don't know what you did to buy my safety. I know you don't want me to. Let me tell you this. You are my father, and there is no one I love more. My life with Laurent would have never happened if you were anything else but yourself. Your striving towards humanity makes you dangerous to Lacroix. In your gentleness and compassion, you are powerful beyond his comprehension. He cannot take that from you. I know that, your mortal friends know that and Lacroix knows that. Keep the knowledge within you and the light in your heart will dispell the darkest day." She kissed him on both cheeks and left, her smile the last thing he saw as the elevator door closed. As she left, a swirl of wind annouced someone's entrance through the skylight. "Such pretty words," said LaCroix, "It is really unfortunate that I have agreed to not give her the training she so obviously needs." He pulled a bottle out of his coat and moved to the kitchen to retrieve two glasses, leaving one filled with a rich dark liquid on a table near where Nick stood. "A toast then, to our agreement, and your lovely daughter." Lacroix emptied the glass he held and moved to within inches of Nick, who was still and silent. "Two week from tomorrow Nicholas. You don't need to pack, just bring yourself. I will take care of everything, as I should. It is a parent's duty, no?" LaCroix moved fractionally closer and cupped Nick's chin in his hand, shifting it until Nick was looking at him. "Get all of those silly thoughts out of your little head, and remeber only this one truth. You. Are. Mine." Lacroix's hand tightened for a second then just before he released Nick, he leaned down and gave him a tender kiss on the forehead. With LaCroix's departure back through the skylight, Nick seemed to gain some control over his body again. His mind was in complete turmoil, not knowing whether to be afraid or excited about a return to his father. He saw the glass of blood at the table beside him and he picked it up, looking at the cut of the glass, the colour of the blood, smelling the dangerous scent of human life. He didn't realize that he had moved until he felt the couch seat hitting the back of his legs. He didn't hear Natalie slip in. He only saw the blood, only felt the longing and the terror LaCroix brought out in him. Then he heard Jocelyn's words in his mind, saw her face, full of confidence in his ability. He looked at the blood again and now the only thing he felt was rage: at himself, at LaCroix, at a God he barely believed in anymore. He hurled the glass in his hand at the wall, watching the glass shatter and crimson streak down the wall, then he curled up into himself, crouching on the couch, hiding form the world. Natalie walked farther into his apartment, closed the blinds to the coming day, and wrapped her arms around Nick as his blood red tears fell onto her hands. * * * * * The End -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Please send and comments, flames, etc... to hanlan@astro.lsa.umich.edu.