Date:         Tue, 14 Jul 1998 01:32:24 -0400
Reply-To: Kathy Whelton <KWhelton@COMPUSERVE.COM>
Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories <FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu>
From: Kathy Whelton <KWhelton@COMPUSERVE.COM>
Subject:      Behind the Mask (01/04)
X-cc:         NNpackers <NNpackers@world.std.com>
To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu
Status:   

Sorry about all the formatting problems last time. I'm
keeping my fingers crossed that this comes through all right.
This story is a sequel to A Crack in the Wall. There is a clean
copy of Crack on my website, or drop me a line and I'll send you
a copy of it.

Nick and Co. belong to JP and Co., I am only borrowing them
for a short time. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is set pre-season one, not long after Natalie and Nick
first meet. It follows my story A Crack in the Wall.

Many thanks to Nancy Kaminski and Cindy Ingram for all
their help with this. Permission is granted to archive
on fkfanfic, the ftp site and Mortal Love.


Behind the Mask
part 01/04
by Kathy Whelton
(c) 1998


"There has to be something more to it than this," Natalie Lambert
mumbled under her breath as she pulled the sheet back up around
her 'patient.' She snapped her gloves off and tossed them in the
trash. This wasn't the reason she had gone into medicine. She
clicked the small, hand-held tape recorder on and spoke into
it evenly.  "Denise Crosby, age twenty-two, cause of death: 
acute lymphocytic leukemia. No further examination required,
the remains may be released to the funeral home." Natalie snapped
off the recorder. "Good-bye, Denise," she finished softly.
Natalie smiled as the door to the autopsy room swung open. If
there was anyone that could bring a smile to her lips it was
Grace Balthazar. Ever since Natalie's arrival at the coroner's
office eighteen months ago, Grace had been friend, ally,
confidante. She grimaced slightly at the final one. Grace *had*
been her confidante,and still was, in most things. *He* had
impressed upon her that secrecy was paramount. Still, there was
something that didn't feel quite right about keeping secrets from
Grace.

"Are you finished?" Grace asked, moving to return the stretcher
to the cold storage room.

"Yeah, why?" Natalie responded. "Is there someone else in the
on deck circle?"

Grace chuckled lightly. "No, we're all clear at the moment." 


"Good," Natalie stated a little more firmly than she intended.
Lately the bodies seemed to be coming in a never-ending supply.
She could use a break for a change. 


Grace looked up, a bit surprised by the comment. Come to think of
it, Natalie hadn't seemed herself for a while now. Her late
nights in the morgue were becoming grist for the rumor mill.
Grace had put it down to enthusiasm for the job, but maybe there
was something going on. "Everything okay, honey?" She looked
intently at the younger woman. Natalie did look a little down.
"That Detective Jenkins hasn't been bothering you again, has he?
Because if he has..."

Natalie waved away her friend's concern. Although the
aforementioned Detective Jenkins was indeed a royal pain in the
ass--and in more ways than one. If he wasn't questioning her
medical judgment, he was trying to chase her around the autopsy
table. She was a big girl--she'd dealt with all that before, both
in medical school and residency. Why was it so hard for men to
accept that a woman could be a forensic pathologist, and a good
one?  "Don't worry, I can handle him."

"What is it then?" Grace asked gently.  She placed a hand on her
hip. "And don't go trying to tell me that it's nothing. I think I
already know you better than that."

"I guess maybe you do." Natalie sighed. "It's *this*." She
gestured to the room around her. "This is what I've been working
towards for years, and now I'm beginning to wonder why. What good
am I doing  anyone here? I went to medical school to help people,
now all I do is help bury them."

"Now hold on just a minute there." Grace held her hand up for
emphasis. "I think what you've got here is a bad case of the
sophomore slump," she said definitively.

"The sophomore slump?" Natalie questioned. "What, may I ask,
is that supposed to mean?"

Grace slid onto the stool adjoining the autopsy table. "Look,
you've been here eighteen months now, which means you've been 
here long enough to get your feet wet, but the interesting cases 
are still passing you by. You're frustrated, and rightfully so, 
but you need to give it time."

"Give it time?" Natalie returned. "They'll all still be dead when
they get here, no matter how long I wait.  Take this Denise
Crosby for instance, dead of leukemia at age twenty-two. Maybe 
I should be out there looking for a way to keep her from dying, 
rather than cutting her up once she's gone."

"What we do is important," Grace stated emphatically. "And
you have a lot to offer right here."

Natalie shook her head. If only she could believe that. Once she
had gotten a taste of pathology in medical school, it was all she
had wanted to do. She had put up with the odd looks from friends
and family, the sly jokes from her classmates about practicing on
the dead. Richie was the only one who had been at all supportive.
He understood what it was like to have a dream. What if that
dream had been without substance? What if this was really all
there was to it? Natalie sighed. "I don't know..."

"Well, I know." Grace rose from her seat to face Natalie
directly."How do you know that something you found on the Crosby
post won't eventually lead to a cure for leukemia? The answer
is--you don't." Grace spoke quickly, not giving Natalie a chance
to get a word in. "And if I recall correctly, it was your
autopsy that led the police right to the killer in the Johnson
homicide last week."

Natalie was unable to suppress a smile. It had been the
information she uncovered that led to the suspect's arrest.  If
only they could all be like that.

"You have some of the best instincts we've seen around here in
a while," Grace continued. "You're good at this in a way a lot of
other people aren't. People who work here," she added under her
breath. "You care about the patients that come through here.
Look, I know that this kind of work doesn't have some of the
rewards that other areas of medicine do. And I know what it's
like trying to explain this job to outsiders." Grace rolled her
eyes.  "Believe me, I do. Just promise me you'll give it a little
more time before you make any decisions?"

Natalie nodded slowly.  Her friend's passion for the job they 
shared was evident. She reached out and grasped Grace's hand 
lightly. "Thanks. I do appreciate the pep talk. Maybe you're
right. Maybe I just needed to hear it out loud."

"And maybe you need to be spending a little more of your time
off away from here." Grace tried to force a measure of firmness
into her voice. "Get out, go see a movie or something."

The time! Natalie glanced quickly at the clock. She had told Nick
she'd be at the loft at eight-thirty at the latest.  She released
Grace's hand and moved to her desk, unlocking the drawer and
snatching the journal that lay within. It wouldn't do to keep her
only living patient waiting too long. "I gotta run, Grace. I just
remembered an appointment."

"An appointment?" Grace asked skeptically. "At ten o'clock at
night?" She noticed the look of urgency on Natalie's face and
broke into a broad grin. "Well, I hope he's cute..."

Natalie returned her friend's smile. "I refuse to answer on the 
grounds that it might incriminate me." She pressed the morgue
door open with her free hand. "Good-night, Grace."

"Good-night, honey," Grace called softly at the departing figure.






Nick brushed his fingers lightly over the keys, not willing them
in any direction in particular, just allowing himself to enjoy
the smooth feel of the ivory. He refused to look at the clock, or
at the refrigerator. Tonight they were both his enemy.

She said she would be here by eight-thirty--at the latest. He
didn't have to look at the clock to know it was already well past
that. His 'condition,' as she liked to call it,  had given him an
acute sense of the passage of time. No matter that the clock he
used was one that would never end.

He felt a twinge of annoyance, not at her--she was undoubtedly
delayed somehow by her  work--but at himself. He had promised
himself that he would not let himself get drawn too closely into
this, that he would maintain his distance, both from her and her
promise of a medical miracle. They had only been at this a few
months and already he felt the anticipation growing each week
before they met. This week he was particularly eager. He had
managed to decrease his consumption of blood far below what
even she had asked of him and he had to admit that he was
fairly bursting with the news of it.

The dull buzz from the intercom interrupted his thoughts and he
rose to answer it, forcing himself to keep his movements
carefully measured.  He made a quick check of the video monitor,
as if there were anyone else in the city of Toronto who might be
at his door at this hour. He allowed himself a grin at the sight
of her. She stood with her arm wrapped tightly around her
ever-present notebook, looking more like one of his old college
students than anything else. Only the medical bag in her hand
gave her purpose away. "Yes," he spoke evenly into the speaker.

Natalie glanced up into the camera and cast him a repentant look.
"It's me," she responded. "Sorry I'm late."

"No problem." He hit the buzzer, allowing her to enter the
building. "Come on up."

Natalie stepped slowly off of the elevator, allowing her eyes
to become adjusted to the soft glow of candlelight that filled
the room. She took a cleansing breath, as if she could somehow
will away the clammy sensation on her palms or slow the beating
of her now racing heart. He had never been anything but a
gracious host in her visits to the loft. There was no reason to
expect that this evening would be any different--at least that's
what she told herself everytime she came over here.  There was
something about the deserted warehouse, though, that always
seemed to set her nerves on edge.

"Hey, that's new," she exclaimed, catching sight of the grand
piano which now dominated the room. She stepped over to it and
slid her hand over the smooth finish. She had always wanted to
learn, but somehow the opportunity had never presented itself.
"Do you play?" She saw the quick smile on his lips and regretted
the question immediately. Why would he have a grand piano
in the middle of their living room if he didn't know how to play
it?

"Actually," he responded. "It's pretty old and, yes, I do play.
It's been in storage. I decided that maybe it was time to get it
out."Time to admit to himself that Toronto was going to be home,
at least for a while.  He gestured towards the dining table,
fighting the urge to sit and give her a demonstration. It had
been so long since he'd had anyone to play for. She was here as
his doctor, though, not for a piano recital. "Maybe we should get
down to business."

"Of course," she answered. She had already kept him waiting two
hours. She had absolutely no idea what he did  with himself when
she wasn't around, but it wasn't unreasonable to expect that he
might well have other things to attend to this evening. It must
be tough enough to be confined to the apartment for the entire
day without hanging around half the night as well.

Nick slid into a chair and rolled up his sleeve. It had become a
comfortable routine for them. She needed his blood, he gave it
freely. It was far easier than filling the uncomfortable silences
with small talk. He knew that there must be a million questions
she was just dying to ask--he could see them written plainly on
her face every time they met. She held back though, and he was
fairly certain that it wasn't fear that restrained her
curiosity--he just couldn't quite manage to figure out what
else it might be.

He could feel her warmth more than usual tonight as she pressed
towards him. He always marveled at the touch of her hand, gentle
yet skillful as she went about her tasks. Was she as careful with
her other 'patients,' as she liked to call them?  The sound of
her heartbeat echoed strongly in his ears. He slid his free hand
over his lips. Damn, he needed to feed. He had been cutting the
blood consumption closely, perhaps a bit too closely.

"Is everything okay?" She stepped back and looked at him
intently. It was next to impossible to judge what was going on
inside that head of his.

His features tightened into a mask and he nodded in the
affirmative. To speak was to breathe, to risk catching the scent
of her. It was a luxury he couldn't afford right now, not with
her so close to him.

"There, finished." She pulled the tourniquet from his arm and
deposited the blood samples into her bag. She seated herself
across the table from him and flipped open the notebook in front
of her."So, how many of the protein shakes did you manage this
week?" she asked, pen poised over paper.

She would have to start with the tough one. "I did okay..." he
answered noncommittally, hoping she wouldn't press him on the
exact number. That number being exactly one, which he had =

struggled to get down in anticipation of her visit. "But I have
cut way down on the blood."

"You have?" Her large eyes flashed enthusiastically as she looked
up at him. She was certain that his blood drinking was a large
part of what kept him what he was. If cutting down was as easy as
all that, perhaps this wouldn't be as much of a challenge as she
had first thought. "How much?"

"I'm down to about a pint a day." He tried in vain to keep his
face neutral as he said it. It was hard not to be excited,
though, it was way below the figure he had given her last week.

"Really." She hastily scribbled the notation beside the date.
That was real progress. "Any symptoms?" He certainly looked well
enough, once you got past his pallor.  And she had managed to
get past his pallor. He was a strikingly handsome man, something
she was forcibly reminded of everytime they met.

"I'm hungry," he acknowledged, dropping his eyes. It was amazing
how casual it sounded when he said it, like all *it* would need
to be satisfied was a quick meal. She had no idea what the
hunger was like for a vampire, how quickly it could consume
anyone or anything in its reach. She had no idea at all--and he
had no intention of educating her about it. Natalie strongly
believed that his vampirism had a physical basis, and for once he
was going to at least try to let go of his guilt and believe in
what she was saying.

"That's it?" she responded lightly. "Join the club. I started
doing Weight Watchers last week and it's killing me," she
groaned.

He smiled in response, letting his eyes meet hers once again. She
did have incredible eyes. "Kindred spirits, are we?"

"Something like that anyway." Natalie glanced down at the
notebook in front of her. There wasn't much more she could do
with the information she had already gathered. It was time to
push a bit more.  "Nick," she started slowly. "I was thinking it
might be a good thing if  I could get a bit more data." She
hesitated. He had been cooperative--to a point. There was no
telling what that point might be. "I was thinking we might get
some helpful information if I were to do a bone marrow
aspiration."

"You mean now?" He asked, slightly taken aback. His control at
the moment was tenuous, at best. There was no way he could
hang on through something like that right now.

"No, no," she answered hastily.  "I just wanted to run the idea
by you." There was  a definite disadvantage to treating someone
with a medical background. She had to admit she wouldn't be
so eager to have her bone marrow sucked out either--especially
by someone who hadn't practiced on a live patient in four years.

"I'll think about it." Nick rose to his feet. It was best to end
this before she pushed him any harder on it. The last thing he
wanted to admit to her was that he feared he would lose control
of himself if she touched him again tonight. "Was there anything
else?"

"No, I suppose not." Natalie snapped the notebook shut and stood
as well. "I'll be in touch if the bloodwork comes back with
anything interesting. Meanwhile, keep up the good work. And
remember," she pressed her notebook into his arm for emphasis,
"drink those protein shakes."

"I will try," he answered tightly. The thought alone made his
stomach turn, but he was the one who had pursued this in the
first place. "I promise."

The grim determination in his voice caused her to pause. Could
drinking the shakes--or eating food for that matter, really be
all that bad? It was hard for her to imagine a world without one
of life's greatest pleasures. Natalie turned and faced him as she
reached the elevator door. He looked so lonely standing there.
"Are you doing anything tonight?" she asked abruptly.

"Excuse me?" Nick responded.

"I'm sorry," she said hastily. The sweaty palms were back, but
this time for a different reason. "I didn't mean it to sound like
I was prying. A friend of mine suggested to me tonight that I was
working too hard. I thought, maybe," the words tumbled quickly
over her lips, "maybe you had been working too hard too. Maybe
you could use a bit of a break."

He saw a flush of red creep over her face. He had a feeling that
Dr. Natalie Lambert was not in the habit of asking anyone out,
let alone a relative stranger. He rested his weight against the
elevator door. "What is it you had in mind?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "A movie maybe?"

"Dr. Lambert," he asked severely, "are you in the habit of asking
your patients out on dates?"

Natalie's color deepened. "I...I didn't mean. It's not a...date.
I mean, I don't..."

Nick grinned broadly. Apparently the doctor was not invulnerable
to a little teasing. "Now I'm sorry," he returned. "I was joking,
you know, a little coroner humor. Your patients are dead,
remember?"

"Very funny." A wry smile touched her lips. At least it was nice
to know that there was a sense of humor lurking under his cool
exterior, even if it was at her expense. She arched a brow
coolly. "Shall I take that as a 'no?'"

"No...I mean yes... I think." Just being near her for a few short
minutes had caused the hunger to stir, how did he expect to
manage in a crowded theater? On the other hand, he had been holed
up in the loft all week, maybe a change of scenery would do him
some good.

"Think of it as a therapeutic intervention. If you're going to
*be* human, you need to live among humans, not hidden away
somewhere."

Nick sighed deeply. "A therapeutic intervention it is, then.
Besides, the Caddy's been sitting in the garage all week, it
could use a little exercise." Nick slid the elevator door open
and allowed her to step inside.  "I do need to check something
upstairs, though." He saw the puzzled look on her face as he
started to slide the elevator door closed. "Would you mind
waiting for me in the car?"

"Um...sure," Natalie managed as the door slid shut. Not that she
had much choice, it would seem.

Nick waited until the elevator mechanism engaged before crossing
the loft floor to the refrigerator door. It wouldn't be much of a
therapeutic intervention if he drained the usher during the
movie.

He flung open the door, his hand coming to rest on one of the =

smooth green bottle that lay within.  He slid his hand over its
cool form, caressing it almost as he would a woman. He brought
the cork to his lips; the slightest taste of the fluid within
lingered at the opening. "No!" He slammed the bottle back down
onto the shelf. Following the program meant exactly that;
following the program. No exceptions. His eyes came to rest on
the container of protein shakes. After all, how much worse than
cow blood could they possibly taste? Nick took a long draught,
rushing the milky fluid past his taste buds as quickly as
possible. His body sagged against the refrigerator as he fought
the urge to regurgitate the entire container. Unfortunately, they
could taste a lot worse.






"Sorry to keep you waiting." Nick slid behind the wheel of the
Caddy and prompted the engine to life. He glanced at the =

passenger seat. Natalie's small form was dwarfed by the Caddy's
dimensions--she looked almost like a child sitting next to him.
"Where are we headed?"

"I really didn't have anything in mind," she responded, willing
her voice to sound casual. Asking a vampire out was not really
what she had planned for tonight, or any other night for that
matter. The words had just sort of...slipped out of her. She'd
need to watch that in the future. This relationship was one that
definitely needed to remain on a professional level.

Natalie sank her head back against the seat, the warm night air
streaming through her hair. "Maybe we should just head over to
Eaton Centre and see what's playing at the Cineplex. We should
still be able to catch the last showing of something."

"Sounds like a plan." Nick pulled the Caddy out into the flow of
traffic. He inhaled deeply, allowing the heady scent of her blood
to reach him. The hunger seemed strangely placated by the
bizarre concoction he had forced himself to drink. Maybe there
was something to her ideas after all.  Maybe one form of protein
was as good as any other. Perhaps it was the pure desire for
the blood that made it so alluring. A smile crossed his lips at
the very idea of cow's blood being alluring. If only LaCroix
could see him now.

"What's so funny?"

Nick was startled from his reverie at the sound of her words. His
face tightened. "Nothing," he responded. Certainly nothing he
could talk to her about. "Just a stray thought." He glanced down
at the fuel gauge. " I'm afraid we're not going to get too far if
I don't stop and get some gas, though. I hope you don't mind."

"Not to worry," Natalie smiled. "I'm not in a rush--I don't turn
into a pumpkin at midnight or anything."

He smiled at her response, but said nothing, the comfortable
silence between them slowly growing into the uncomfortable
kind.  Virtually the only thing they had talked about since
meeting one another was his 'condition.' This little excursion
was supposed to be a break away from all that. Unfortunately,
small talk had never been one of her strengths.  She opened her
mouth, then quickly discarded the thought and closed it.

"Did you say something?" Nick asked eagerly.

Apparently he was as much at a loss for words as she was. "No,"
she responded. "I didn't say anything." Natalie squirmed
uncomfortably against the leather seat. No wonder she had
gone into pathology. In the morgue she never had to figure out
what to say to one of her patients.

"It must cost you quite a bit to keep this thing in gas," Natalie
ventured, finally breaking the silence.  All men liked to talk
about their cars--there was no reason to think he'd be any
different.

"It's not too bad, really. I don't put that many miles on it."
The words were clipped. He wasn't about to get drawn into a
conversation about money. She must already be wondering how
he managed to live so well with no visible means of support.
Greed could have an amazing effect on some people. He had been
down that road before, he had no desire to travel it again, at
least not until he was sure that she was the answer to his
problem.

"Here we go." Nick swung the car into the gas station bay,
grateful for its timely location. The bright neon sign in the
window indicated a wide variety of beverage and tobacco items for
sale. It also announced a strong admonition to 'pay before you
pump.'Nick sighed. He remembered wistfully when all gas stations
were full service. "Can I get you anything?"

Natalie reached for the passenger side handle. "Actually, I
think I'll come in too. Sydney's been complaining a lot lately
about the menu selections. Maybe they'll have something here that
he would approve of."

"Sydney?" Nick straightened as he got out of the car. This was
the first mention she'd made of a man in her life. "Is this going
to be a problem?" Nick stumbled over the question. "The movie, I
mean. I don't want to cause you any trouble."

Natalie laughed lightly as she headed around the car. "Trouble,
with Sydney? Not to worry. He's pretty laid back--as long as his
bowl is full." She smiled again at Nick's puzzled expression.
"Sydney is my cat."

"Aaaah." Nick broke into a smile as he pulled open the door to
the Quick Mart, allowing her to precede him inside. The
overpowering smell of blood was what hit him first. He grabbed at
her arm, trying to pull her back outside while he took a moment
to make sense of the scene in front of him.

"Don't even think about it!" A gangly youngster, not quite yet
out of his teens, barked the command at them. "Get in here!" He
swung the barrel of what appeared to be a semiautomatic rifle
away from an elderly woman behind the counter and pointed it in
their direction. "And shut that door behind you."

Nick stepped slowly into the room with his hands raised. The
aroma of blood seeped into his every pore--shutting the scent out
wasn't even a remote possibility. He heard the sound of a wildly
irregular heartbeat coming from behind the counter--the owner of
the blood no doubt. He could feel the beast within him rise in
response, demanding to be fed. The protein shake that sat in his
stomach like a lump seemed more a joke now than anything else. It
had been so long since he had tasted fresh human blood. He felt
the familiar dull ache in his jaw as his canines fought to
descend.

Nick glanced quickly about the store. Aside from the gunman
and a lone elderly woman behind the counter, they appeared
to be alone. At least they had that going for them. Nick took a
step closer to the gunman, forcing himself to turn away from the
bloodscent and focus on the young man's eyes. "Put the gun down,"
he intoned, pressing his will into his words. "No one needs to
get hurt here."

The young  man's eyes wavered for an instant, then darted
towards the counter. "Someone already has been hurt here,
genius!" he shouted nervously. He shifted his weight from one
foot to another. "And there are going to be a lot more people
hurt if you don't do as I say." He turned his attention back to
the woman behind the counter.  "You, finish emptying that cash
register, and make it quick unless you want to join your friend
there."

Natalie shifted her eyes questioningly towards Nick. The
fluorescent lights from the store made his pallor almost ghastly.
She thought for a moment that she caught a flicker of gold in his
eyes, but quickly dismissed it as a trick of the lighting.
Despite his words of caution to her when they'd met, she had seen
no sign of the vampire since that first night. At times she had
even begun to forget the enormity of what she had seen that
night, to lull herself into the idea that *it* was already
slipping away, that her program was already easing the grip of
the beast that had held Nick so firmly in its grasp for so long.

"There's someone on the floor behind the counter," he whispered
in response to her unspoken question.

"Dead?" she questioned in a hushed tone.

"You shut up!"  The gunman glared wildly in their direction.

Nick shook his head slowly. "Not yet." He almost wished the
body dead, at least then the scent of the blood would cool, the
sound of the erratically beating heart would stop calling to him.

"Now the safe." The young man's attention turned back towards
the counter. He slid a hand off of the rifle and ran it through
his long, greasy hair.

The older woman inhaled audibly, "But I don't know the
combination."

"That's what they all say." He lurched towards her and leaned
over the counter. "Do they teach you to say that or something?"
He leveled the barrel of the gun directly at her chest. "You have
thirty seconds."

"Nick..." Nat called softly to him.

As if he needed any prompting to tell him that the time had
come to act. The question was, could he manage to take control
of the situation when he could barely control himself? He began
walking calmly towards the gunman, his hands still raised to
shoulder height. "She said she didn't know the combination.
Take what you have and go."

"Yeah, right. Like I'm going to risk a murder rap over a measly
few bucks."

"It's not murder...yet." Nick stopped a few feet short of the
barrel of the gun. "I want you to put down the gun and go."
Nick could see the eyes of the young man begin to lose focus
as he spoke--he reached out slowly, taking the end of the weapon
in his right hand."

The impact of the bullet with his shoulder spurred the
transformation within him.  "No!" It came out more a howl than a
command, but there was little question that the young gunman had
received the message. Nick could feel the glow of his eyes and
the sharp outline of his fangs against his lower lip--he could
also see the horror on the face that now stood inches from his
own. 


The gunman quickly dropped the stock of the rifle and began
backing away from the monster before him. "Jesus Christ!"
he screamed. "You stay away from me!" His eyes darted rapidly
around the store, looking for a way out. The room suddenly seemed
a lot smaller than it had a few moments ago. The thing before him
hadn't moved an inch from where it stood, although he
could still hear the low rumble of a growl emanating from it. Was
it playing with him, waiting for him to turn and run before
pouncing?  That's what always happened in horror movies.
He finally decided that anything was better than waiting around
to find out and began slowly easing his way down the aisle of
assorted sundries and towards the back door.

Natalie stood, frozen for a moment by the sound of the shot.
She couldn't see Nick's face from where she was--she didn't need
to, she didn't want to. The look on the face of the gunman was
more than enough for her. "Nick?" she called to him softly, not
quite sure whether she really wanted a response or not. She
couldn't begin to imagine what was going on inside him--she had
clearly seen the bullet go through his shoulder, yet he seemed
barely affected by it.

A soft moan from behind the counter drew her attention away
from Nick and the gunman. She quickly skirted the pair of them
and made her way behind the cash register.  She gasped at the
scene before her--she didn't think it was possible for anyone to
lose that much blood and still be alive. Natalie stooped beside
him and pressed a hand against the man's carotid artery--alive he
was and hopefully she'd be able to keep him that way. The
elderly woman sat motionless on the floor beside them both, the
dull glaze of shock plastered on her face. Natalie reached out
and shook her gently. "Ma'am, we need to get some help here."

The woman's eyes swam into focus. "Huh?"  She shifted her gaze
from the young woman to Harry, her Harry, still lying there on
the floor. The scream begin to rise in the back of
her throat.

"I need you to call 911," Natalie stated firmly, cutting her
off, "and I need you to do it now."

The woman nodded and moved towards the phone. Her hands shook as
she carefully punched in the numbers.

Natalie turned her attention back to the man in front of her. His
moaning  had stopped, replaced by a jagged breathing that gave
her no comfort. She needed to find the bullet wound and stop the
bleeding. There wasn't a whole lot else she could do until the
paramedics arrived with some emergency equipment. Natalie
grasped the man's arm and pulled him over onto his back. His
shirt was a mass of coagulating blood, making it extremely
difficult to see much of anything.

"Nick," she said urgently, "I could use some help here." When she
had pressed Nick about his medical background, he had confessed
to having been a field surgeon in several wars. He'd probably be
far more adept at finding the source of the bleeding and getting
it stopped than she was. Her patients didn't bleed anymore. Her
patients were dead. "Nick!" she shouted, raising her head just
above the level of the counter.

Nick had moved, but not much--a foot at best. He stood
motionless, directly facing a rack of assorted chips, his fingers
wrapped tightly around the wire frame of the display.

"Nick?" Natalie called, her voice softer. "Please... I really
need your help here."

She really needed his help. Her voice tore at him through the
hazy din of the bloodlust. He tightened his hold on the metal
rack in front of him and heard it groan in protest. It wouldn't
take much more pressure before it would snap like a twig in his
hand. Nick buried his head even further into the bags in front of
him, hoping that the vile odors they gave off would somehow
lessen his desire. He doubted very much that she would appreciate
the only kind of help he could provide at the moment. He wanted
nothing more than to drain those last precious ounces from the
man at her feet, and then take his fill from her as well--yes,
especially from her. "I can't," he finally managed in a strangled
voice.

Natalie started towards him. "Is it your shoulder?"
Perhaps the hit he had taken was more serious that she had
assumed. Once someone gets up off your autopsy table, you
tend to put a lot of faith in their ability to heal. "Let me..."

"Stop!" Nick turned and glared at her, his eyes flashing. "Don't
come any closer." God, don't let her come any closer. His control
was wavering on a very fine edge as it was. A step or two more
in his direction and it would all be over.

Natalie stopped abruptly, her heart lurching suddenly in her
chest. How could she have forgotten this? She could see the amber
glow from his eyes, the outline of his fangs as he spoke to her.
Still, his face was soft, frightened almost. Frightened of what,
though? She cleared her throat, determined that her voice would
be steady. "I won't come any closer." She glanced back at the man
on the floor--he still needed her help. "I have to get this
bleeding stopped. Can you at least toss me a couple of  rolls of
paper towels?"

Nick shook his head from side-to-side in response. He didn't
trust himself to remove his hands from the rack for even a few
moments. "I don't think so."

"I'm coming around behind you then," she stated it firmly, not
giving him a chance to argue the point. She passed behind him,
giving him a wide berth. Natalie quickly moved down the aisle,
snatching anything she could see that might be of some possible
use to her in treating the gunshot victim. "The shooter?" she
questioned. She was almost afraid of what his answer might be.

"Gone," Nick responded tightly. "Out the back door."

Natalie nodded. In the distance she could hear the wail of a
siren. "Maybe you should get going, too." She certainly didn't
want to be the one to explain this when the police arrived.

She made her way back towards the counter, not waiting for a
response. The man at her feet was still breathing erratically. At
least he was still alive, she had that much to be grateful for.
He wasn't about to become one of her 'regular' patients, not if
she could help it. Natalie fell to her knees and tore the wounded
man's shirt open, carefully probing his blood-covered chest.
"Gotcha," she mumbled softly to herself. The shot had gone high,
probably nicking the subclavian artery as it passed. She tore
large sheets of the absorbent material from the roll and stuffed
them against his chest, pressing her weight into the wound to
stop the flow of blood. "Hurry. Please hurry," she whispered
urgently. She was totally unaware of the rush of air as it passed
by her.






Natalie killed the car's engine and glanced up at the seemingly
deserted warehouse. Not even the usual lights from Nick's
apartment were shining, which meant that either he hadn't
made it back to the loft yet, or...or it was meant as a
signal to her that her presence was not welcome.

"Well, Mr. Nick Knight, I don't really give a damn whether I'm
welcome or not. I'm coming in." She said the words out loud,
hoping they'd sound more convincing that way. The place was
still as creepy as all get out, and her nerves were already
frayed by the events at the convenience store. The main door to
the elevator was locked up tight, and, if he was home, he wasn't
answering the buzzer. Her resolve and her knees almost
crumbled when there was no response from the intercom. That left
the side staircase as her only option, and one she wasn't too
eager to exercise.

Nick listened to her clumsy progress up the darkened stairwell
with a grim sort of amusement. She was a persistent one, he had
to give her that. Still, he couldn't quite figure out whether she
had no idea how deep in over her head she was, or if she just had
the worst instincts for self-preservation that he'd ever seen. It
didn't really matter--it was over. She had come far too close to
losing her life tonight; he wasn't about to let that happen
again.

Natalie pulled the door to the kitchen area open and stepped out
into the room. There was scarcely any more light than there had
been in the stairwell, a single candle burned on the piano,
but at least her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness.

"You shouldn't be here."

The voice was cold, forbidding. She couldn't see where the hell
it was coming from, which was making her even more anxious.
"Probably not," she acknowledged, peering into the interior of
the loft, "but I wanted to see if you were all right."

"I'm perfectly fine, Doctor," he responded. "There's no need for
you to be concerned."  Nick rose from the staircase where he
was sitting and walked across the loft until they were standing
face-to-face. He met her questioning look with an impassive
stare.

"But your shoulder?"

"Is fine." His gaze wavered for a moment. She looked terribly
drawn.  She'd been through a terrible ordeal tonight as well--it
was a wonder that she was still on her feet. "What about you? Are
you all right?"

Natalie managed a weak smile. "I have a few more gray hairs
than I did at the start of the evening, but yeah, I'm okay." She
glanced around at a half dozen empty green bottles scattered
throughout the room.  Apparently he had fallen off the wagon with
a resounding thud--so much for all the progress they'd made in
cutting down his intake of blood.

He saw the thin lines of disapproval cross her face. It didn't
matter what she thought anyway--this little experiment had come
to a not-so-successful conclusion. "I want to thank you for all
your help. I trust that there's no need to impress upon you the
importance of keeping everything we've done confidential."

Natalie shot him a puzzled look. The sound of the gunshot must
have affected her hearing. "It almost sounds like you're
dismissing me."

"I do appreciate all your efforts." The tone was perfectly
correct, polite yet cool. "I'll compensate you generously for all
the time and work that you've put into this."

"Compensate?" she asked, confused. "You mean money?" He was
trying to get rid of her and now he had the gall to be waving
money in her face as well. She could feel the wave of anger as it
threatened to overtake her. "I'll have you know I've never been
fired from a job in my life--and I have no intention of starting
with this one," she said through gritted teeth. "How *dare* you
try to buy me off?"

He met her fury with a cool stare. "How could you possibly
consider continuing with this after what happened tonight?"

"I don't know what the hell happened tonight!" Natalie flung her
arms in the air. Apparently, she was supposed to be some sort
of expert on vampire behavior at this point, or maybe just a mind
reader. "That's what I came to find out. One minute you were
standing there, next thing I knew you were dancing cheek-to-
cheek with a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips as if your
very life depended on it."

Nick held his expression carefully neutral. It would have been
funny if only this wasn't so damn serious. "It wasn't *my* life
that depended on it, it was *yours*." He spun to face her once
again. "Don't you get this? I came within a hair's breadth of
killing you, of killing that man on the floor, of killing
everybody in that room."

So that's what the fear on his face had been about. He wasn't
ready to give up on this--not yet anyway. "Why?"

He stared at her blankly. It was a simple enough question--he
just couldn't figure out why she needed to ask it. "What do you
mean, why?"

"In the car you were perfectly fine, it wasn't until we got into
the store that you seemed to be having a problem.  Cut me some
slack here, Nick, I'm just trying to piece this whole thing
together."

Nick sighed deeply. He really couldn't see the point of getting
into all of this with her. Their work was done--the less she knew
about what made vampires tick, the better. Still, he wasn't
likely to get rid of her without some explanation. "It was the
blood," he answered reluctantly. "The smell of the blood. It was
everywhere--I couldn't shut it out."

"But you've been around blood before," she countered. "You told
me yourself that you'd been a field surgeon." Her eyes narrowed.
"Or was that just something you made up because you thought it
would sound good on your resume?"

"It's the truth," he said sharply.  "I've had to deal with the
blood before, but never as hungry as I was tonight. *That's* your
reason why, if you must know."

"So then that's just another variable we have to control." She
stated it firmly, but there was a definite edge of excitement in
her voice.  Natalie moved into the living area of the loft,
pacing as her mind raced with possibilities. "It may mean
restricting your activities for a while--we don't want any
recurrences of tonight's incidence. You may have to stay home
while we decrease your blood intake. Of course, there's no
telling how long it might take--a few weeks, a few months maybe."

"No," he said softly.

Natalie stopped pacing and turned to stare at him. "Excuse me?"

"I said no," Nick stated, more clearly this time. "I have to be
able to go outside, to tolerate being around mortals."

Natalie rested her hand on her hip. She couldn't tell if he was
being difficult on purpose or whether it was purely
unintentional. Whichever it was, it was beginning to grate on
her. "I realize being stuck in here indefinitely might be a real
inconvenience,Nick,but I think we need to look at the bigger
picture. If you truly want to regain your mortality, I think we
need to give this a fair shot."

"There's more to it than that." He let his eyes drop and turned
away from her. He had sworn to himself that he would not let
her get drawn into his quest, that he would let her deal only
with the physical nature of his condition and nothing more.

"I kinda suspected that." Natalie slid into a chair and waited
patiently for him to speak. "I'm ready to listen whenever you're
ready to tell me about it."

Nick walked slowly across the floor of the loft and then back
again. How could he even begin to explain this without
repulsing her totally? She had grown up in the supermarket
generation. True, she did work with death on a daily basis,
but still, people these days had no concept of what it was like
to have to kill *anything* for a meal--how could she possibly
stand to be near him once she understood the magnitude of the
things he had done, the multitude of people who had died to feed
his unholy appetites?

He picked up one of the empty green bottles and examined it
closely. It gave him an excuse not to meet her eyes. "It didn't
always come in bottles, and until not so very long ago it wasn't
cow."

So that was it--the killing. Natalie's posture stiffened
slightly. She had wondered, of course. This wasn't totally
unexpected. On the other hand, she doubted this was something
that she really wanted to hear. She had known him only a few
months, and still, she liked him. As hard as he had tried to keep
the cool facade carefully in place, there had been the occasional
slip when she had gotten a glimpse behind the detached persona he
liked to project. His kindness towards her when she had
appendicitis was the first glimmer, but there had been others
since then--his casual laugh when she caught him off-guard, the
twinkle in his eye when something interested him. She didn't want
to know this...man...in front of her was a cold blooded killer.
"I realize that," she said carefully.

"Do you?" He finally allowed his eyes to meet hers. He wasn't at
all sure she realized anything. "Do you really? Do you have any
idea at all how many people I've killed?"

Natalie could feel the blood rush to her face. This was
definitely something she didn't want to hear. That was all in the
past now. What she was trying to do was give him a future. "I'm
not sure what that has to do with our work."

"What we're doing, even if I do regain my mortality, isn't
enough." He seriously doubted *anything* could *ever* be enough,
but at least he had to try.

"I'm afraid you've lost me here, Nick. If regaining your
mortality isn't what you're after, then..."

"I need to atone for the things I've done, the lives that I've
taken. I know I can never make it up to those whom I've killed,
but I have to give *something* back. I can't do that locked away
here in the loft all the time." He looked at her closely, hoping
she could understand how important this was to him. How could she
though? Her short life had been dedicated to helping people. He
grimaced at the thought--she was even willing to help him.

"So that's what the good deeds are all about." It was decent of
him to at least make some gesture towards his past, although she
suspected that the dead were better left to their own peace.
Natalie rose and began to approach him.  That's why he had
intervened in the gang robbery and had landed on her autopsy
table for his trouble. That's why he had worked as a physician.

Natalie stopped abruptly and pressed a hand across her mouth, her
eyes suddenly wide. He had worked as a physician--before the
blood came in bottles, before it came from cows. His patients--he
had fed on his patients. She turned away suddenly, attempting to
compose herself.

She moved an instant too late. He had seen it--that look of
revulsion in her eyes before she managed to turn away. Something
had struck a cord. Maybe she did have some inkling of what he
was behind the mask.

"I'm sorry," she said hastily. If there was one thing that had
been hammered into her in medical school, it was the importance
of being non-judgemental towards her patients. "I didn't mean to
react like that." Natalie swallowed hard. "So when you worked as
a doctor...?"

"I took what sustenance I needed to work from the dead and the
dying," he answered her honestly. "And there's no need for you to
be sorry. *I'm* the one who's sorry." Nick moved to face her. She
had to understand how important it was for him to make amends
for the sins he had committed. "I was able to make a difference
as a doctor," he said strongly. "I was able to *save* lives that
never would have been salvaged otherwise." He looked at her
intently, willing her eyes to meet his. "I *have* to be able to
make a difference. That's why I can't stay cooped up in here
twenty-four hours a day, even if it is a quicker way to my
mortality."

Natalie nodded slowly. What must it be like to have that many
deaths on your conscience? "I guess I can understand that." It
had felt good to save that man tonight, and she didn't have
the weight of.... what? Hundreds, maybe thousands on her soul.
She knew what it was like to need to have a purpose. "So what do
you do--in this life, I mean? You never have told me."

"Besides getting blown up and shot?" He managed a thin smile.
"Not much," he answered, chagrined. His time here in Toronto
would be all too brief--it always was. He had managed to help out
the homeless here and there, but still, there was so much more he
could be doing. "But it's time I changed that.  I've been
considering a few things--I have taught in the past, I really
enjoyed that. I've also been a cop." The events that had occurred
since he had arrived in Toronto almost seemed to be pushing him
in that direction.

"A cop?" she responded in disbelief. He couldn't be serious. You
couldn't just waltz into police headquarters and ask for a job.
"And just how does one go about assuming an occupation?"

"Very carefully." He smiled again. "Especially in these days of
computers. It's getting harder and harder to be anonymous.
I'll think of something, though."

Nick walked over to the couch and settled into it. It had been a
long night--for both of them. If he was tired, she must be
absolutely exhausted. He reached over and grabbed a cellophane
bag from behind the cushions.  "Chip?" he asked, holding the bag
out in front of him.

"What the...?" Natalie looked carefully at the bag he held--sour
cream and onion. It was the bag of chips from the convenience
store--he must have carried it back with him. "No thanks," she
laughed. "I'm on a diet, remember?" She moved across the living
area and sat on the couch next to him.

"I remember," he said sadly. "So am I."

Natalie caught the determined tone in his voice. She was right,
he wasn't ready to give up on this. "So does that mean we're
still in business?"

Nick glanced at her. She had seen the monster that he was--he
couldn't believe that she even willing to sit down next to him,
let alone continue treating him. "I'm sorry for what happened
earlier."

She turned and looked at him squarely. "For what almost happened,
you mean. You didn't *do* anything wrong. In fact, for all we
know he may have killed that woman without your interference,
and I know that clerk never would have survived if we hadn't
happened along when we did."

"That doesn't change the fact that I wanted to kill you back
there," he said soberly. "I'm not sure you appreciate just how
dangerous this could be for you."

"And I think I saw a whole lot more than you realize." She had
seen the terror on his face in the store. Nothing on this earth
could have caused him to harm her, she was convinced of that now.
"But we'll do it your way," she conceded, "one small step at a
time."

Natalie yawned softly and rested back into the couch cushions.
The rush of adrenaline was finally beginning to abate.

"You look beat. Why don't you leave your car here and let me
give you a ride home--it's the least I can do after everything
I've put you through tonight."

A ride home--the caddy, she had almost forgotten. Natalie reached
into her purse and pulled out the keys. She paused briefly before
handing them to him. "You left these in the ignition." And a
good thing for her too, she really didn't feel like hitching a
ride with one of the uniforms--not tonight. "How *did* you get
here so fast without the car?"

"I fl~," Nick mumbled, rubbing the back of his hand across his
mouth.

"Pardon?" Natalie snatched the keys back from his waiting hand.
"I didn't quite hear that."

Nick sighed deeply. There seemed little point in keeping it from
her now. "I said I flew."

"Get out of town!" Natalie exclaimed. She looked at him closely.
If this was supposed to be some sort of vampire joke, she really
wasn't in the mood for it at the moment. "You're trying to pull
my leg, aren't you? I mean...it's just not possible. It's
completely against the laws of physics," she stated with
certainty.

"And just what laws of physics would those be, Dr. Lambert?"
Nick's eyes sparkled in amusement.

Damn. He *was* telling the truth. He was eight hundred years old,
he could fly, and she was sitting on the couch next to him. There
was only one thing left to do--Natalie reached over and plucked
the bag from his hands. "Give me those chips."

~finis~

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