Date:         Mon, 26 Sep 1994 20:52:45 -0500

From:         "Sharon S. Scott" <SCOTTS@BAYLOR.EDU>

Subject:      Back to Normal

 

Blame this on Amy Hull. We had a discussion in the Raven

(the newsletter) about how Nick would react if he and Nat

ever really married and had kids. She suggested I write it.

So here it is.

**********************************

 

Back to Normal

   by Sharon S. Scott

 

"Detective Knight, I want you and Schanke down there, now."

 

"But Captain, I've got paperwork stacked up a foot high on

my desk ... "

 

"No buts. Get on it."

 

"Yes, Captain." He turned away from her office door, smiled

at the face Dedrick made at him, and walked to his desk. He

sighed, then pitched the stack of papers in his hand onto

the pile already on his desk and went in search of Schanke.

 

And found him, as was usual lately, in the locker room,

watching the Jays on a tiny television set he had smuggled

in.

 

"Schank, hop to it. We've got a body."

 

Schanke's eyes were glued to the images flickering on the

screen. "Yeah, yeah, just a minute. Two on base, and strike

two ... "

 

"Schanke, duty calls. And we got it. Move it."

 

"Oh man, I gotta see this ... Yeah! Strike three! He's out!"

Schanke switched the tv off, did a little dance of joy, and

held his hand out to Larson. "Pay up. Can I call 'em, or

what?"

 

Larson groaned, but pulled out his wallet and handed over a

twenty dollar bill. The dancing policeman waved the bill in

his face before stuffing it in his pocket.

 

"Admit it, man, I got the knack--and it's a gift, ya know.

Some day you're gonna learn that I know what I'm talkin'

about."

 

 

 

Larson gave Knight a disgusted look and headed out of the

locker room.

 

"You know you're going to get caught betting sooner or

later. And you know Cohen isn't going to be happy about it."

 

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her. Besides, how's she

gonna find out? This is the one place we're safe from her."

 

Knight frowned. "I wouldn't count on it. Somehow I don't

think a sign saying "Men's Locker Room" is going to keep her

out if she decides she wants in."

 

"Yeah, you're probably right. She's a tough old broad."

 

Nick sat down on the bench and stared at his partner. "A

broad? You're calling Captain Cohen a broad? You do like to

live dangerously, don't you?"

 

"Yeah, well, she's been on my butt lately. What's her

problem anyway? Is she going through the change?"

 

Nick stood up, took his keys out of his pocket, and moved

towards the door. "You never learn, Schanke. Could it

possibly be that she knows you think she's a tough old

broad?"

 

"Maybe. So, what's up?"

 

"A body. Throat cut."

 

"Oh, jeez, thanks, Knight."

 

"Hey, I tried to get out of it. Everybody disappeared as

soon as the words "throat slashed" came up."

 

"Wonderful. Just what we needed right before lunch time."

They headed out of the building and to the Caddy.

 

"Hey, Nick, we got time for something to eat on the way?"

 

"Afraid not. Captain said get right on it."

 

Schanke got in the car and slammed the door a lot harder

than necessary. "Damn, and I just won lunch money. Well,

when we got done, then? I'm starving."

 

"Okay. What new gastronomic delight is in store for me

today?"

 

 

"Oh, I don't know--sushi? Man oh man, I'm happy you're off

that peculiar diet you were on--I hate eating alone."

 

"No, Schanke. No sushi. Read my lips. No sushi. I don't eat

raw fish."

 

"It's good for you. Lots of protein."

 

"Lots of parasites, also. No. Absolutely not."

 

"Okay. How about shrimp and oysters, then? There's a great

oyster bar down by the harbor."

 

Nick pulled the Caddy out onto the street. "Yeah, well, if I

keep this up, going to have to start working out at the gym

or something. Between you and Myra and Nat, I've probably

gained 10 pounds."

 

"Don't worry about it until you can't button your pants

anymore. *Then* it's time to worry about dieting. Or you

could just buy a larger size and quit worrying about it at

all."

 

"Yeah, Schank, that's a really intelligent solution to the

problem."

 

"I didn't claim it was intelligent--but it works. Buy

clothes that are too big and everybody'll ask if you've lost

weight. Works every time."

 

Nick glanced over at his partner, then drove on.



When they arrived at the scene, the body had been covered

with a sheet. Nick walked over to it, lifted the sheet, and

noted the large amount of blood around the body. Thank God

that didn't make him hungry any longer.

 

"How long ago?" He dropped the sheet and turned to Grace.

 

"Not long. Couple of hours at the most. Throat cut,

defensive wounds on her hands. No ID."

 

"Great. Just what we needed."

 

Schanke walked up and started to lift the sheet. Grace

nodded to him and said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

 

"What's that supposed to mean? You think I haven't ever seen

a stiff before?" He lifted the sheet and then dropped it as

quickly as possible. "Doesn't do much for your appetite,

I'll grant you that."

 

"I warned you, Schanke." She turned to Nick. "And somebody

should have warned you about wearing sunblock at the beach.

That's some sunburn." She touched his face with one finger.

 

"Ow, don't do that. I was so busy slathering the stuff on

the kids, and watching to make sure they didn't drown

themselves, that I forgot to put any on myself."

 

"Things have certainly changed for you, haven't they? The

beach, kids, the day shift."

 

"Yeah, it's a whole new world. Nat's treatments for

hematologicopapsia seems to have worked." He was still

trying to explain that one, and to his great relief, Grace

didn't comment.

 

He turned away at the sound of Schanke's yell.

 

"Hey, Nick, get over here!"

 

"Sorry, Grace, gotta go."

 

 

 

"Listen, you tell Nat I miss her since she got promoted.

Tell her to call me, okay?"

 

Schanke yelled for him again. "Will do." He kissed her cheek

and ran towards the sound of Schanke's voice.

 

When he arrived at the warehouse door, Schanke had gone

inside. He had donned gloves, and was gingerly picking up a

knife with dried blood on the blade. "Look at this, will ya?

Jeez, the perp didn't even try to hide this stuff. It's just

laying here."

 

Suddenly Schanke stiffened and looked up. "You hear that?"

he asked in a whisper.

 

"No. What and where?"

 

"I keep forgetting you don't have that supersonic hearing

anymore. Up there. Second floor. To the right. Sounds like

somebody moving around and trying to be quiet about it."

 

"Okay, I'll go check it out. Give me some cover." Schanke

nodded as Knight started cautiously up the stairs, gun

drawn. When he reached the top, he looked into the first

room, shook his head at Schanke, then tried the next

doorway. Nodding to Schanke, he yelled, "Metro Police, come

on out." When there was no response, he went in.

 

A shot rang out, and a man came barrelling out the door,

knocking Knight over in the process. Schanke yelled,

"Police! Stop right there!" as the man ran down the stairs.

Knight got up, and in an attempt to cut the perp off, leapt

over the balcony railing and landed hard. Schanke chased the

fleeing figure and caught up with him just outside the

building. He hollered for backup as he cuffed the perp, and

when it arrived, started back into the building to check on

Knight.

 

And found him, on his back, on the floor.

 

"What's wrong? He didn't shoot you, did he?"

 

Nick sighed and then winced. "No, Schank, he didn't have a

gun, remember? *I'm* the one who had the gun."

 

"Yeah, right. So why are you just laying there?"

 

"I think I did something to my back. It hurts like hell."

 

 

 

"So you want me to call for the paramedics?"

 

"No, just help me up."

 

The attempt was a miserable failure. "Okay, Schank, go call

for the paramedics."



"Nick, take it easy. Let the nurse help you into the car."

 

"Okay. It hurts too much to do it myself. I'm putty in your

hands."

 

Nat and the nurse maneuvered him into the front seat, and

the nurse took the wheelchair back into the emergency room.

 

"Now, are we ready?" She got a careful nod from Nick, and

whoops from the back seat. Nick winced, and Nat laughed. "I

promised them we'd stop for banana splits on the way home

from school. That was before I got the call from Don about

you."

 

"Banana splits are okay with me, as long as I don't have to

get out of the car to get it." He tried to look back at the

kids when they started giggling, but gave it up as his back

muscles screamed at him. "What's so funny?"

 

Janny managed to stop giggling long enough to get out, "Oh,

Dad, you look funny. Like Wile E. Coyote." She collapsed

into giggling again.

 

"I look funny, do I? Yeah, Dad's a really funny guy today.

Glad I could entertain you."

 

Nat started the car and pulled out of the hospital parking

lot. "I'll take it slow and easy, but I did promise them."

 

"It's okay. Just one question--why do I look like Wile E.

Coyote?"

 

Nat started giggling. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because

you're all stiff, like a board? Like Wile E. Coyote after he

falls off a cliff? Does this ring any bells?"

 

"Yeah, I get it now. My daughter thinks I'm a cartoon

character."

 

"You know how easily kids are entertained."

 

"Some more easily than others, apparently." He bit his lip

as the Caddy hit a larger-than-usual pothole.

 

 

"Sorry. I'll try not to do that again. We're almost there."

 

"Good."

 

Another couple of blocks down the street, she pulled into

the parking lot of the Frozen North Ice Cream Emporium. The

kids piled out of the back seat and ran shrieking into the

building. "I want all chocolate and no vanilla! Vanilla is

for wimps!" "No, it's not!" "Yes it is! You're a wimp!" "No

I'm not!" "Yes, you are!" "Girls are wimps!" "No, boys are

wimps!" "I'm gonna get *2* bananas and you're only gonna get

one!" "No I'm not!" "Yes you are!"

 

Nat sat behind the wheel and watched them. "Did we ever have

that much energy?"

 

Nick smiled. "I don't think so. Now go, wife, and get me a

sundae with all chocolate and no vanilla. I've just heard

from an impeccable source that vanilla is for wimps."

 

"Yes, master. Will do, master. One non-wimp sundae, to go,

please." She kissed him on the cheek and got out of the car,

dashing to catch up with the kids.

 

They were back in a few minutes, the kids carrying their

treasure in their hands, Nick and Nat's in a bag.

 

"Now don't open the tops on those until we get home. You

know how your Dad is about spills in the car."

 

Janny answered, "Yes, ma'am," and proceeded to poke Richie

in the ribs. He yelled, "Wimp!" at her and poked her back.

 

"Okay, you two. Quit fighting. And be careful of that ice

cream." They looked momentarily abashed, so she started the

car and pulled out of the lot. They got almost home before

warfare broke out again.

 

"Am not!" "Are too!" "Wimp, wimp, wimp!" "Am not!" "Are

too!" "Mom, he hit me!" "No I didn't!" "Yes he did!"

"Tattletale!" "Am not!" "Are too!"

 

"Both of you stop it. I can't drive and corral you two at

the same time." As as she pulled into the garage, the kids

began to fight in earnest. "Baby!" "Am not!" "Are too!"

"You're a baby, you're a baby, you're a baby!" "No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!" "You started it!" "No I didn't!" "Yes you

did!"

 

 

 

Nick's head was pounding, his back hurt, and now his nerves

were being shattered. "STOP IT THIS INSTANT!"

 

They knew it took a lot to make Dad yell, so they hushed,

but continued the battle using physical means. Richie pushed

Janny down in the floorboard, Janny kicked Richie, Richie

kicked her back, and by the time Nat had stopped the car,

Richie's banana split was spread all over the back seat and

Janny's had hit the ceiling and was making a very

unappetizing puddle on the carpet.

 

There was a sudden silence in the car. Nat was trying to

group her resources to deal with the wrath Nick was sure to

visit upon the children when he saw what they'd done; the

kids were staring at the destruction they'd wrought; and

Nick was attempting to get the strength to handle the

torture of getting out of the car, up the stairs, and into

bed.

 

Nat took a deep breath, undid her seat belt, pulled the keys

out of the ignition, and took a deep breath. "Richard,

Janette, listen very carefully to me. Are you listening?"

 

"Yes, Mom." "It's his fault!" "No, it's not!" "He kicked me

first!" "No, I didn't!" "Yes you ..."

 

"BE QUIET, BOTH OF YOU! LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER!"

 

They knew they'd better shut up when Dad used that tone of

voice. They shut up.

 

"Thank you, Nick. I think I can handle this."

 

"You're welcome."

 

"Now, children. You will not say a word. You will get out of

the car, unlock the door, go inside, get sponges and towels,

and you will come back out here and clean up the mess you

made."

 

Nick tried to turn his head to see what they'd done, but

thought better of it when pain surged up and down his spine.

"What did they do?"

 

"Believe me, Nick, you *don't* want to know. Now, you two

get busy. DO YOU HEAR ME?"

 

"Yes, ma'am." Nat handed Richie the keys and the kids got

out of the car and very quietly started toward the door.

 

 

"Okay, now it's your turn. Stay still till I get over there

to help you out of the car."

 

"Yes, ma'am."



Nick awoke sweating from a dream of snarls, glistening

fangs, and blood trickling down LaCroix's chin, mixed with

visions of giant sticky spots on the seats of the Caddy.  He

wiped his forehead and was surprised, still, not to see

blood on his hand. He looked over to Nat's side of the bed,

which was empty, and then heard the sound of water running

in the bathroom. Without thinking, he tried to get up out of

bed, but fell back with a groan. He tried again, and managed

to get up this time. Bent over and limping, holding on to

the furniture as he went, he managed to make it to the

bathroom door.

 

"Nat!"

 

She turned off the shower and yelled, "Nick? What are you

doing out of bed?"

 

"Nat, my back really hurts. Where'd you put the pills?"

 

"Hang on a minute. I'll find them for you."

 

"Just tell me where they are. I can take a couple of pills

all by myself."

 

"Sorry. They're downstairs on the kitchen counter. I forgot

to bring them up. Yell at Richie to bring them up to you."

 

"Okay." He hobbled back to bed, started to yell, and then

had an idea. He picked up the phone on the bedside table,

and called their own number. He could hear it ringing

downstairs.

 

Janny answered. "Knight residence."

 

"Hi, pumpkin, it's Dad. Would you look on the kitchen

counter and bring me the bottle of pills in Mom's purse?"

 

"Daddy? Where are you?"

 

"I'm upstairs."

 

"You called from upstairs? You're weird, Daddy."

 

 

 

"I know. Your mom tells me that all the time. Just bring me

the pill bottle, okay?"

 

"Okay, Daddy. I love you."

 

"I love you, too. Bye."

 

"Bye, Daddy."

 

He set the phone down and smiled. Janny called him "Daddy"

only when she was sleepy, sick, or in trouble. He didn't

have to guess which it was this time.

 

In a few minutes she knocked on the bedroom door. "Daddy?"

 

"Come in."

 

She opened the door, peeked in, and grinned when she saw him

sitting up in bed smiling at her. She walked very carefully

across the room, carrying her favorite plastic mug with a

top on it. It had fat purple dinosaurs on it.

 

"Thank you very much. You saved your mom a trip up and down

the stairs."

 

She smiled from ear to ear, and jumped up on the bed beside

him. He stifled a groan as she reached over to give him a

kiss on the cheek and made the bed move.

 

"What's that for?"

 

"Just 'cause." She snuggled up against him and he kissed the

top of her head. "Did you remember the pills, too?"

 

"They're in my pocket. Do you need one?" She reached into

her pocket and pulled out a hair ribbon, a Polly Pocket, and

the bottle of pills.

 

"I need *two*, I think." He tried to get the top off the

bottle and failed. He looked over at the child sitting next

to him, and handed it back to her. She got the top off in a

matter of seconds and handed bottle and top back to him.

 

"Thanks." He swallowed two of the pills with what he had

thought was water. It turned out to be grape Kool-Aid.

 

"What happened to you, Daddy? Did you get sick at work?"

 

 

 

"Well, I tried to jump off something that was too high, and

I fell down and hurt my back."

 

"Does it hurt *bad*?"

 

"Yes, it does, but it's better now, thanks to you. What's

your brother up to?

 

"We're playing with the Nintendo. I'm winning. Are you okay

now? 'Cause I need to go finish winnning."

 

"I'm okay now. Go on and finish your game. Bye." He kissed

the top of her head again, and she bounded out of the room,

then turned and came back.

 

"I'm really, really sorry for messing up your car. We

cleaned it up really good."

 

"It's okay. I'm really, really sorry I yelled at you."

 

"Okay. Bye."

 

He heard her running down the stairs and started to yell at

her to be careful, then thought he'd done enough yelling for

one day, and didn't.

 

He heard Nat sigh. She was standing in the bathroom door, in

a towel.

 

"I'm really, really sorry they messed up your car, too. But

kids spill things. It's no big deal."

 

"Yeah, that's what you told me about changing diapers, too."

 

She couldn't control her laughter at that statement and at

the look on his face.

 

"Wasn't that fun? But now they're past that stage. Now they

just spill ice cream in the car."

 

"It's probably going to leave a stain."

 

"Quit worrying about it, will you? I'll take it tomorrow and

get it cleaned at the car wash. They can get almost anything

out."

 

"Are you sure you'll have time tomorrow? Since you're such

an important person now?" All of a sudden he wasn't smiling

anymore.

 

 

Neither was she. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"It means you're never home anymore, since you got promoted

to Chief Medical Examiner. The kids are beginning to think

the maid is their mother. Why can't somebody else deal with

these things?"

 

She stared at him, a flush beginning at the base of her

throat and moving up. "You son of a ... No, I won't insult

your mother. *I'm* never here? When's the last time you

spent an entire weekend with the family? How many times have

you been called in when you were supposed to be off-duty in

the last month? Why can't *you* let someone else deal with

these things?" She stomped over to the closet and took out a

warmup suit, stomped into the bathroom, and slammed the

door.

 

A few minutes later, she stomped out of the bathroom and

moved to the dresser to put her watch and earrings back on.

 

"I'm sorry, Nat. We're both in the wrong. Neither of us is

here enough. We both love our jobs. We both think we're

helping to make things better. We're contributing."

 

She turned to face him. "You're right, Nick. I think we just

haven't been willing to admit it. We both need to make some

changes, spend more time with the kids. But Richie needs

braces, and Janny needs to have her adenoids removed, and

all that costs money. Oh, and that reminds me, I got a note

from Janny's teacher--she keeps on talking when she's

supposed to be quiet. And the kids broke the shutters again

playing with them. And the vcr has quit again. And I hate to

tell you this, but the sink in Richie's bathroom is stopped

up. And my car is falling apart. And we've got to decide

about that house in the country."

 

"Nat, none of that is important. We can get Janny's adenoids

removed, and have braces put on Richie's teeth, and call a

plumber, and replace the shutters with drapes. We've got

money. Money's the least of our problems. If anybody knew

just how much money we *do* have ... "

 

"It'd be kind of like Schanke finding out you were a

vampire?"

 

He grinned. "Yeah, something like that. We'd be in trouble

with the tax people, for sure. Even though we did give a

major amount of the cash stash to charity."

 

 

 

She came and sat on the bed next to him. "I still can't

believe Don never figured out just what you were. All the

signs were there."

 

"I think he knew, deep down. He just wouldn't ever admit it

to himself."



"So, how are you feeling? Did one of the kids bring you the

pain pills?"

 

"Janny did. And something to wash them down with. You don't

want to know *what*. Any idea how long it'll take to get

over this and back to normal?"

 

"Nick, you probably won't ever be "back to normal," whatever

that is. The doctor told me that you've got several of the

symptoms of arthritis. So your back problems will more than

likely flare up again, even when you get over this episode."

 

"Arthritis? I don't have arthritis. Old people get

arthritis."

 

"Yeah, well, just how old are you now? 808? 809? It's a

part of aging. It's one of the liabilities of being human."

 

"Why me?"

 

"Why not you? You've abused your body for years--nay, bold

knight, centuries--flying, leaping off tall buildings,

crashing through windows, breaking down doors, rescuing fair

maidens, getting stabbed and shot, and run through with

mufflers and assorted other objects. What do you expect?

You're mortal now, and mortals age, and their bodies wear

out. They get stiff joints, and headaches, and poor

digestion, and corns on their feet. And have back trouble.

It's just age catching up with you. You've got to remember

that you can't do all that stuff you used to be able to do."

 

"That's a lovely picture of what I've got to look forward

to. Thanks a lot."

 

"You're welcome. It's not going to happen immediately.

You've just got to slow down, take it easy. You'll be okay

again in a couple of days."

 

"But there's no cure for the arthritis?" He looked like a

hurt child.

 

She tried to remember that they had both lost hope that he'd

ever become mortal again, until that mysterious virus had

spread through the vampire community, "curing" them all of

their vampirism. They'd both seen that as a miracle. Maybe

he thought there would be another miracle cure for the

problems of aging.

 

"No, there's no cure yet. You don't heal at the speed of

light anymore. That's why I keep telling you to be careful."

 

"I know, I know. But I forget. It's hard to get used to not

being able to do things I used to be able to do. Breaking

the habits of 800 years isn't easy."

 

"Well, you've broken some of them. Your eyes don't go gold

anymore, and, as far as I know, you haven't bitten anyone in

a couple of years. Not seriously, anyway." She smiled at

him, then wearily got up.

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"Take another nap. I've got to go feed the kids, help Richie

with his homework, and get them to bed. I'll be back."

 

When she returned, an hour and a half later, he was asleep.

He looked like a choir boy when he slept. A choir boy with a

few wrinkles and some gray hair, but a choir boy none the

less. She padded to the closet, removed and hung up her

clothes, and changed into a nightshirt. She looked up at a

sound from the direction of the bed.

 

"What?"

 

"Just appreciating the view."

 

"Even if you're in no shape to do anything about it?"

 

"Even so."

 

She got into bed beside him, hesitating before laying her

head on his shoulder. "Is it okay?"

 

"More than okay. I'd be upset if you didn't. Remember what I

said about old habits dying hard? We've been married 7

years. You're an old habit."

 

"I suppose the sentiment is real, however poorly worded."

 

"Yeah, well. You know what I mean." She kissed him, then fit

her head back into the curve of his shoulder. "I've been

laying here thinking about the last 8 years. The virus. All

of us being brought back across. Finally being able to tell

 

 

you how I felt about you, without fear of killing you. The

wonder of our children. It's awesome, you know? In the

original sense of the word. I'm filled with awe about us,

about our children, about ... life."

 

"LaCroix certainly didn't feel the same way about coming

back over. Is he still funding that research to figure out a

way to become a vampire again?"

 

"Yeah. And spending a goodly portion of his money in the

attempt. I talked to him on the phone yesterday--now he's

flying off to Egypt to investigate the secrets of the

Pharaohs and mummies, or some such nonsense."

 

"Oh well, it keeps him busy. He's not over here pestering us

all the time, boring the kids silly with all that talk about

the good old days. They think he's a pompous old windbag,

and don't believe a word he says. Every time he starts one

of those interminable stories, their eyes glaze over."

 

"Nobody would believe it if they hadn't lived through it,

would they?"

 

"Probably not. And it really is weird thinking there are

*no* vampires left anywhere on the face of the earth." She

looked up at him to see his reaction. Sadness was there, as

well as pain. She always knew when he was thinking of

Janette. No one knew what had happened to her. No one had

heard from her since the day after the change. He mourned

for her, still.

 

"Maybe when those of us who actually were vampires die of

old age, nobody'll believe we ever existed. We'll be

relegated to the ranks of myth, like trolls, or the little

green men from Mars."

 

"Maybe you should write your memoirs. Put it down on paper-

-"this is the way it was." Or keep a computer diary, like

that kid on that old television series. What was his name?

Doogie something. What a stupid name. And a stupid premise

for a series. Who's going to let a 16-year old operate on

them?"

 

He smiled. "The same people who believed in vampires? You

know, it's very strange, but those centuries are beginning

to get a little blurry in my mind. I've been trying to

remember Henry VIII's equerry's name, and can't. It's just

on the tip of my tongue ... "

 

 

 

"It's age, Nick. It does weird things. Memories fade, bad

and good."

 

He was very quiet for a few minutes. "You know what I miss

most?"

 

"Your mind?" Maybe that would put a smile on his face again.

 

It did.

 

"No, not my mind. Flying. I miss flying. I forget sometimes

that I can't. I get poised for a take-off ... and then ...

nothing. And I feel like a fool."

 

"I'll bet you look it, too."

 

"Nat, here I am, pouring out my guts to you, and you're

making wisecracks. Why, I oughta ... "

 

"Kiss me, right?"

 

"Right."

 

*******************

The End