This story is the completion of a tale I began with 'Rage' and continued 
with 'To Be Free'.

This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 1)
by Carrie Krumtum
c. 1997

	Mornings. It seemed like a long time since she had looked 
forward to mornings. Well, not EXACTLY mornings, but the beginning 
of her days or nights or whatever. That's the way it had been for a while. 
Waking up meant life intruded on her. She didn't want that. Funny, 
death had seemed so much more appropriate ... for her, anyway. Death 
on so many different levels....
	Her apartment was bright ... cheery, even. She pushed open the 
window of her second floor, Parisian apartment and, closing her eyes, 
took a deep breath of the chill morning air. For a moment, brief though it 
was, she felt free. Then, the phone rang....

	The day passed as it generally did of late. He slept for most of 
it, awaking only to the sense of something he couldn't put his finger on 
but knew was amiss. How long had he felt this way? That something 
was wrong?
	He stared out at the night from the window of his loft. 
	Since he had told her how he felt. Since he had promised to be 
something he couldn't be. Since he had crossed the line he swore he 
would not cross again.
	For the thousandth time, he wondered why. None of this 
should be happening. 
	It didn't matter now. The question was academic. He had told 
her the truth and instead of setting her free, he had imprisoned her. 
Imprisoned them. 
	She needed time, she said. Time to sort it all out. Time ... the 
one thing he had vast quantities of.
	And she was leaving soon....

	Chantel wondered where her evening customer was. Looking 
at the bouquet she had saved for him, she smiled. How long had it 
been? Months now. The customer arrived each evening, just after 
sunset, to make his purchase. Usually, it was the same order. Although, 
she had known him to make exceptions to his routine. Until now, he had 
never missed an evening.
	She looked at her watch and then checked the clock on the 
post just up the street. The booth was due to close in two or three 
minutes. She decided to wait, just a little longer. Sometimes, even the 
most diligent can be distracted. Her customer was sure to come. Surely, 
he would come.

	"I SAID, FREEZE!" she shouted as she ran. Slowing only 
slightly, she continued after him and stopped.
	The alley was dark. The brick wall opposite her position and 
the wooden wall behind her were lined with large garbage bins, boxes 
and spare lumber from the construction site across the street. She had 
chased him through the construction site to this alley and followed him 
in. Trying to melt into this small alcove, she listened.	
	The sound of his labored breathing met her ears. Her own 
breath was ragged from running and shouting. Where was he? Close....
	She could sense the hair on the back of her neck rising. 
Something was very, very wrong here. Damn it! Where was he?
	The pain in her shoulder screamed at her almost before she 
heard the report of his revolver going off. The next few seconds faded 
into a haze. She could sense movement near her, hear the sound of her 
partner's gruff voice, the cry of the perp, the taste of blood in her mouth, 
the sound of something heavy falling, the coolness of the concrete 
against her face, someone was shouting, hands gripped her shoulders 
and rolled her onto her side, the darkness around her thickened, the 
sound faded away....

	"....Dr. Lambert. I'm not in right now. If this is an emergency, 
you can reach me through my service. 555...."
	He hung up. Damn.

	Natalie needed time. More time. As she drove, she thought 
about that. She had already taken a lot of time. She sighed. No chance 
of her losing her job. Not too many people who wanted to cut up dead 
bodies for a living out there, she thought. Taking a leave of absence 
was the only way of doing this. 
	Nick understood. At least, he said he understood. His 
expression had been completely unreadable. 
	She owed him so much. More than she felt she could ever 
repay. She loved him. God, how she loved him.

	The chaos of the scene was usual for such a situation. There 
were lights flashing, onlookers gawking, officers milling about trying to 
make sure everything that was supposed to get done got done.
	The fact that things were getting done surprised him. He 
wasn't cut out to handle this kind of thing. He wasn't supposed to be in 
charge. He didn't WANT to be in charge. 
	Watching as they loaded her onto the ambulance, he decided 
the best thing to do was to give this whole mess over to the guy who 
should be handling it.
	"Has anyone called Knight?" the officer asked.
	Several uniforms turned to look at each other questioningly 
and then shook their heads.
	"All right," he continued, "Bentley, you go call him. I don't 
want to talk to the Commissioner myself. Get Knight here and I mean 
NOW!"

	The strains of the music invaded the whole of the room. He sat 
with his head leaning back on the couch cushion behind him and felt 
the lyrics work on the hole in his heart. On the hole in his still, cold 
heart....
	
	They said that good things come to those who wait
	And I've waited for so long...
	It's now or never and the hour's late
	I want this moment right or wrong

	There is no stairway to the light
	There is no answer, heaven knows
	There is a flower of the night
	My only true love....- Black Rose*


All comments and virtual chocolate to 

*Lyrics to "Black Rose" by Fred Mollin. This song may be heard on the 
Forever Knight Soundtrack and is produced by GNP/Crescendo 
Records, 1-800-654-7029.
This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 2)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"I want a report on her condition as soon as possible," Nick 
told the officer who had accompanied Tracy to the emergency room.
	"Yes, sir," Officer Carter replied.
	"I'll be waiting." Turning off the phone, Nick entered the alley 
by lifting up the yellow tape and stepping under it. The moment he 
entered, he smelled the blood. Her blood. It amazed him at how easy it 
was to identify an individual with this sense. The odor of a person's 
blood was unique to them. He had spent enough time with Tracy Vetter 
to identify the smell of her blood blindfolded. 
	He stared into the dark with eyes that saw what no other cop at 
the scene could. Besides the blood on the wall behind where she stood, 
the blood that lay pooled on the ground where she fell, the traces of 
blood that marked the efforts of the paramedics and other officers who 
helped her, he saw ... footprints headed the other direction up the alley. 
	Stepping past the place Tracy had occupied, he bent down to 
look at an area of ground about fifteen feet away and along the opposite 
wall of the alley. There were faint impressions in some sand on this side 
of the alley. Large boot impressions. Fresh. This is where the perp had 
been when Tracy entered the alley. Turning, Nick could see that the 
alcove Tracy had tried to hide in was only partially sheltering from this 
vantage point. The perp had had a clear shot at her right side and had 
taken it. Damn. 
	Rising, he followed the faint trail of sand picked up by the 
boots of the shooter and carried down the alley to a metal ladder that 
led up the back of the alley to the roof. He touched the fourth rung of 
the ladder and rubbed his fingers together. There was sand here as well. 
He looked up and listened. There was no one up on the roof now. The 
perp made his escape up to the roof and across to safety.
	"Nick?"
	He turned to look at the officer who was calling to him.
	"Yeah, Bentley, what have you got?"
	"It's the hospital. Carter says there's news."

	The sound of the doorbell rang almost hollowly through the 
house behind the closed front door. She waited. It wasn't long before 
the door to the house opened and she saw the smile spread across her 
friend's face. 
	"Natalie!" Mary stepped forward and enveloped her young 
friend in a hug. "I'm so glad you made it."
	Nat smiled to herself as she let herself be captured in the hug. 
"I'm glad, too," she said honestly. 
	Mary released Nat and stepped back. "Where are my manners? 
Come in here this instant!"
	Grinning, Natalie stepped into the home of Dr. Mary Titus and 
let go a sigh of relief.

	"Okay," Nick told the officer. "If her father gets there before I 
do, tell him I'm on my way."
	Carter nodded, "I'll do it."
	"Good. Keep an eye on her for me."
	"Sure thing, Nick." Carter hung up. 
	Nick turned to Hancock, the officer in charge of the scene until 
he arrived. "Get forensics to check out the sand on the ladder at the 
back of the alley. Looks like the perp took the ladder up to the roof. 
There's a trail and I want to know if it goes anywhere from there. Got it?"
	Hancock nodded. "I'll get on it right away, Nick."
	"Where's her partner?"
	"Rhoades went to the hospital after the ambulance left," 
Hancock informed him.
	"Okay. I'm headed to the hospital now. Let me know what 
forensics finds," he said as he turned to follow Rhoades' lead.
	"I will," Hancock said. "Oh, and Nick?"
	Nick looked back at the officer expectantly.
	"Be sure to tell Tracy that we're all praying for her."
	He nodded and tried to look less grim. "I will, Hancock. I 
promise."
	Walking towards the Caddy, Nick wondered what ever 
possessed him to accept the shift watch commander position. If he had 
been with Tracy tonight, this wouldn't have happened. He would have 
beaten her into that alley and the perp's bullet would have made a hole 
in the wall, not in a human being and not in Tracy Vetter. 
	He sighed as he turned the ignition and listened to the engine 
come to life. Status quo for you, he said to himself. Never seem to be 
where you ought to be when you ought to be there. He seemed totally 
unable to protect the people he cared for the most. Schank, Tracy, Nat.... 
Nat. Damn. 
	Putting the car in gear, he hit the accelerator and headed 
towards the hospital.

	Swallowing, she set the glass down and felt the warmth of the 
liquid slide down her throat and enter her stomach. It amazed her at how 
similar the sensations to drinking whiskey and blood could be in this 
regard. The effects of the two liquids, however, were quite different. She 
had partaken of the latter to feed a thirst she had managed to escape 
and the former to dull the memory of that thirst. Now, she was also 
attempting to calm the terror in her soul.
	She laughed to herself. Her soul. Yes, her soul. 
	"To hell with them," she murmured as she took another drink 
of the whiskey the stewardess had provided. This plane was headed 
toward Toronto and help, and it was the middle of the day. 
	Heading west, the jet chased the sun across the sky and 
bought her precious hours of daylight. She would need them to find him 
before they found her.

	"So, are you going to tell me what this is all about?"
	Natalie looked over at her hostess across the dining room 
table. Dr. Mary sat opposite her behind a cup of tea and was smiling at 
her. Once Nat had decided she needed time to sort her feelings out, her 
feelings about Nick and ... everything, she had wondered just exactly 
where she should go. On a whim, she had called Myra Schanke to ask 
about using the cottage by Drag Lake again. Myra had been only too 
happy to give permission for them to use the cottage anytime they liked. 
Them, they. Nat didn't even bother to explain that, this time, she would 
be going up alone.
	So much had changed since the attack. So much of her world 
had changed. She had felt that she needed time to adjust, time to 
reassess her life ... time to decide. Decide what? Natalie fought the tears 
of frustration that threatened her.
	Mary watched the emotions play across her friend's face. 
Natalie had come back to ask for help. She needed to make some hard 
decisions and to deal with the cards her life had dealt to her. Mary 
reached her hand across the table to grip Natalie's. Sometimes, just the 
warm touch of a kind heart was all it took. Years of medical practice had 
taught her that nothing took the place of a warm, kind touch.

All comments and virtual chocolate to
This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 3)
by Carrie Krumtum

	The room was nearly dark as he stepped in. The quiet sound of 
the flowing oxygen, IV pump and the tone of the heart monitor didn't 
mask the welcomed sound of her breathing. She was alive and her 
heartbeat was strong. Tracy was asleep.
	Her injuries were minor, the doctor said. The bullet had 
punctured the upper lobe of her right lung but they had managed to 
reinflate the lung with a chest tube. There were a few small arteries to 
repair, that all being done in a brief surgical procedure. Being shot was 
not minor, by any means, but it could have been a lot worse. She would 
recover fully and in short order. They would keep her for a few days, 
make sure the lung remained intact and there was no further bleeding. 
She could probably return to light duty as early as next week.
	The news was good; very, very good. Nick made sure that 
Carter relayed the doctor's prognosis to the precinct and had waited to 
talk to Richard Vetter after he was able to see Tracy. Their 'talk' had 
gone well, but only after the application of some 'suggestion' on Nick's 
part. Tracy was a cop who had accepted the risks of the job. Ed wasn't 
to blame for her actions, for the volatility of the perp or for the injuries 
Tracy had suffered. Ed felt bad enough as it was, he didn't need daddy 
to lay on the 'what-the-hell-were-you-doing-while-my-little-girl-was-
getting-shot' routine. Nick knew, from firsthand experience, what it was 
like to lose a partner. 
	Commissioner Vetter demanded that a full investigation be 
initiated. Nick had reassured him that he had already spoken with 
Rodgers in IA and that Ed Rhoades was down at the precinct right now, 
giving his statement. Forensics was at the scene doing what they do 
best with the fine-toothed combs they were always heralded as 
possessing. All the bases were covered. 
	As Nick sat down next to the bed, he couldn't help reliving the 
memories from the last time he had sat at a hospital bedside. The look of 
the injuries on Nat's face. The pain and rage in his heart....
	There was a slight groan and Tracy stirred in bed. After a 
moment, she opened her eyes.
	"Hi," Nick whispered quietly to her, a small smile of relief on 
his face.	
	Tracy looked at his face for a second before returning his 
smile. "Is my dad still here?"
	He nodded. "He just went to call your mom and get some 
coffee. It's kinda late for him, you know. The next time you decide to get 
shot, you should consider doing it during the daylight hours. It's rough 
on day people like your dad."
	She chuckled and then groaned again, placing her hand to her 
right ribcage. "Nick, stop making me laugh. It hurts."
	He placed a gentle and caring hand on her shoulder and 
grinned. "No really, I mean it."
	Looking up at his impish face, she decided that she couldn't be 
angry with him. His visit was a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark and 
dreary night. "Yeah, I just bet you do," she finally said as she relaxed 
and grinned back. 
	After a moment, she sobered. "Is Ed all right?"
	Nick's face sobered as well. "I think so. He's giving his 
statement to IA now."
	Tracy nodded. "Oh yeah, I remember. What fun."
	He looked down as he dropped his hand from her shoulder. IA 
had grilled Tracy pretty hard after he had been shot at the parade 
warehouse. If anyone understood what Rhoades was going through, 
Tracy did. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly.
	Her face filled with concern, "Dad didn't do or say anything to 
him, did he?"
	Nick shook his head, "No. I talked to him. He's doing better. He 
wants a full investigation that's all. So do I."
	She relaxed, a little. "Nick, I'm sorry," she began.
	"Tracy...."
	"No, I mean it...."
	"Trace! It's all right."
	"But he got away."
	"And we'll find him. You need to relax and get well before you 
go charging back into any more alleys."
	She fell silent and stared back at him. "It's just that...." Tracy 
paused. She dropped her eyes as the silence fell.
	"What?" Nick prompted after the lull in the room became 
slightly uncomfortable.
	"Well, you wouldn't have let him get away like that."
	Nick stopped and stared back at her. Damn it! What the hell 
did she think she was doing in that alley? Trying to follow his lead? 
Closing his eyes and dropping his head, Nick sighed.
	"Tracy," he began quietly, trying to keep his temper in check. 
He could respond a number of ways. None of them would do much 
good. Tracy was simply unable to do what he did. No other officer in 
the department could do what he did. Wasn't that what he had told Nat? 
Isn't that what they argued about the last time? 
	He sighed. "Tell me what happened tonight."

	The door was forced open and two darkly dressed figures 
moved into the apartment. The dwelling had been vacated in a hurry. 
Few things had been taken. Some clothing, money, personals. Very little 
else. 
	"Where?"
	The questioner was met with a nod toward the western 
horizon. "There."
	They left the apartment. There was much to discuss and others 
to involve. So far, no one had ever escaped. This would not be an 
exception.

	She sat before the fire and drank her cocoa. Somehow, it didn't 
taste as good now as it had when he had made it for her. He had never 
even drank cocoa. Not in eight hundred years. There were so many 
things that separated them. So many. Sometimes, like now, it seemed like 
too many. At other times, the differences seemed insignificant. The last 
time she had been here, in this cottage, she had felt that way. 
	They had made a promise to each other. They had said that no 
matter what the difficulties, they would fight them. Nothing would stop 
them from becoming free. Nothing.
	Amazing. She brushed at the tears that fell onto her face. 
Simply amazing how little staying power you've got, girl. In less than 
five months you're ready to just walk away from your promise. Or are 
you? she thought. Wasn't the point of coming out here to try and figure 
it out?
	Figure what out? 
	The tongues of flame danced over the logs in the fireplace. 
What to do? What choices did she have?
	She could keep doing what she had been doing, trying to find 
a cure and dealing with what her relationship with Nick dealt to her on a 
day to day basis ... or.... What? Walk away from it all?
	There wasn't any middle ground. At least, none that she felt 
willing to stand on. That was the way it had developed between them. 
Nick had given everything he could give to her. She knew that. The 
only thing he held back was the darkness. That was something he 
would never freely give her. It terrified him. Hell, it terrified her. 
	It was the darkness that kept them apart. It was a barrier that 
they had been unable to conquer after over five years of struggle. What 
were the odds of their being successful, anyway? Slim to none, she told 
herself. 
	Was she willing to give up the rest of her life to this? All of her 
dreams? Damn right, she was. Nick meant everything, had been 
everything. Was it fair? Hell no, it wasn't fair. Welcome to reality.
	Yeah, like she hadn't already had one huge dose of reality. 
Why was it always so hard with her? With everything? 
	She finished her cocoa and stirred the coals of the fire....

All comments and virtual chocolate to 
This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 4)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"I don't care what the excuses are!" he growled. "We have no 
choice."
	"I wouldn't say that, exactly," came the calm reply.
	Looking at his colleague, he tried to decipher the meaning of 
his comment. He was unsuccessful. "What the hell does that mean?"
	"It means that we have options. Or have you forgotten?" 
	His colleague sat in the chair on the other side of his desk and 
maintained a passive look that was irritating, to say the least. His 
smugness was an aspect of the enigma that defined him. This display of 
self-assuredness reminded him of someone he had met once before. 
Someone he had heard was in Canada now; Toronto, he thought. 
LaCroix. They had colleagues in Toronto for another reason. A potential 
problem that they had been keeping a close eye on for quite some time. 
He nodded. "Yes, we have operatives in the area. This may work to our 
advantage, after all."
	His colleague merely grinned.

	She had gone to bed late and was up early. Sleep seemed to be 
harder and harder to come by. It wasn't the nightmares, so much. They, 
at least, had become infrequent and easier for her to handle. No, now it 
was the state of her heart that gave her the most grief. She couldn't pin 
anything down anymore. 
	Like last night. She had told herself that she was willing to give 
up the rest of her life. Now, this morning, she wasn't so sure. Natalie 
couldn't remember a time when she had felt so unsure of herself, of her 
desires or options. 
	Maybe it was the aftermath of the assault. Maybe it was this 
way for all victims like her. She didn't know. Just one of many things 
that she didn't know. This uncertainty was the defining aspect of her 
current dilemma. That was why she had come to the cottage again. 
There had to be some way of finding a path through all this muck. There 
had to be some solid ground she could stand on. There had to be. But, 
where?
	After showering and dressing, she decided to accept Dr. 
Mary's invitation to join her on her route today as she went about 
serving her patients in their homes. The change of pace and the 
company might just afford her an opportunity to sweep away some 
cobwebs and gain perspective. As she locked the front door of the 
cottage and headed for her car, Natalie silently prayed that it would.

	"...and why the hell didn't you call and tell me this last night? I 
had to hear about it from the duty sergeant this morning when I called 
my office. I think I deserved to know about it before now."
	Nick held the phone away from his ear for a moment. Joe Reese 
was angry, not with Nick, not really, but with the whole situation. Since 
his heart attack two months ago, Reese had been on medical leave. He 
had been out of the hospital only three weeks now. The doctors were 
still considering surgery.  
	It had surprised Nick that Reese would have suggested him for 
the night watch commander's position. There were a lot of strikes 
against Nick in his duty file. The Kozak testimony, the Lavendly thing. 
Hell, he had only been off of restriction after returning to duty a few 
weeks when Reese had collapsed in the precinct. Commissioner Hall had 
said that Reese had insisted Nick was the right man for the job.
	Nick had had to really think about it. Although, the moment 
Natalie had heard about the offer she had been pleased. Nat had 
thought that this position would be the perfect opportunity for them to 
do some real work on his condition. He would be more readily 
accessible to her for testing and follow-up. 
	Another thing, being posted at the precinct most of the time 
meant he was as close as a phone call for Nat those first few days back 
on the job. The transition back to work had really gone pretty smoothly 
for Nat. Oh, sure, there were the whispers and the rumors about how 
bad the assault had been and even more rumors about the two of them, 
but Nat managed to deal very well with the lion's share of it. There had 
been a few times, especially in that first week back, when she had called 
him just to talk, to "hear his voice," she had said. 
	Finally, the promise that the position would only be temporary, 
just until Reese was able to return to active duty, along with the 
assurance that he would be allowed to return to homicide had 
convinced him that he could do it for a short while. Now, he was 
beginning to doubt the wisdom of accepting the arguments. 
	He put the phone back up to his ear. "Captain...."
	"And where the hell was Rhoades? I want to see the IA 
report...."
	"Captain!"
	"And I want to know what you told Commissioner Vetter...."
	"REESE!"
	Joe paused.
	Nick took a deep breath. "Look, Cap, I know it's hard to be 
away from everything when something like this happens. I feel just as 
bad about this as you do. I promise I'll get a full report to you as soon 
as I have one. Besides, the doctor said no excitement, remember? Denise 
practically threatened to kill me if I started calling and getting you all 
worked up, not that you need any help or anything."
	Joe tried to calm down. He knew Nick was right. Tracy had 
been Nick's partner, for crying out loud. He had known that Nick was 
the right man for the night watch commander position and now, when 
Nick had a chance to prove it, here he was, yelling at him. If Denise had 
heard Joe on the phone, she would have thrown a fit. Thankfully, she 
was out at the grocer's this morning shopping. 
	"All right," Joe said, a bit calmer this time. "All right, I'll be 
expecting a report. Just try to remember that I'm still the captain, okay? 
I'd appreciate being notified when my officers get shot."
	Nick felt weary to the bone. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I know. I'll 
get the reports to you as soon as I can."
	Joe could sense the fatigue in Nick. It had been one hell of a 
night for him. Joe understood that. How many times had he spent the 
same kind of night, dealing with the fallout after one of his own got 
injured? Too many, he thought. "Okay, I'll wait for the report. And 
Nick?"
	"Yeah?" came the reply.
	"You do what you think's right. I came down hard on you and 
I'm sorry. I'm just not cut out to be an armchair kinda guy."
	Nick nodded to an empty room in understanding. "I know 
exactly what you mean." 

	As Chantel arrived to set up her flower stand, she couldn't help 
but wonder what had happened to her most prized customer. She didn't 
just miss the sale, although she had come to appreciate the steady pick 
up in her income, but she had begun to think of this gentleman as a 
welcome relief at the end of her day. 
	He was kind, charming and good looking. Just 'cause you're 
getting up there in years, she thought, that don't mean that you can't 
appreciate what God's made. She smiled. Chantel sure hoped her 
customer would be back this evening, for a lot of reasons.

All comments and virtual chocolate to
This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 5)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"So you think this is unusual?" Mary asked her passenger as 
they headed back up the dirt and gravel road toward the highway. They 
had seen five patients today and she had enjoyed Natalie's company as 
well as her assistance with a particularly difficult dressing change. 
	She had been listening to her young friend talk about her 
doubts; doubts about her life now, after the assault, doubts about her 
relationship with her young man, doubts about whether or not she was 
making the right decisions concerning just about everything in her life. 
Smiling to herself, Mary wondered why wisdom wasn't handed out until 
so much later in life.
	"Isn't it?" Natalie asked.
	Mary chuckled. "I don't think so. At least, not as unusual as 
you seem to think it is."
	Natalie looked at her friend questioningly. "How so?"
	"Well, for one thing, you aren't supposed to know where all 
the solid ground is." Mary gave Natalie a meaningful glance before 
turning her attention back to the road.
	"I heard a story once about a young man who was trying to 
climb a mountain. He had only gotten a little way up the side when he 
hit a foggy patch. He couldn't see but a few short yards ahead or behind 
him. Since the distance he could see seemed the same in both 
directions, he decided to keep on going up. Now, when he started his 
climb, he wasn't at all sure he could make it to the top but as the hours 
wore on and he kept inching up the few yards he could see at any one 
time, he kept wondering if he would ever make it. I can't tell you how 
many times he thought it would be easier to just stop and go back, but 
then, he'd look up those few short yards and say to himself that it didn't 
look too hard to keep going, so he'd go another few feet. He argued with 
himself the whole time whether to keep going or to turn around. Then, 
towards the end of the day, he hit a level spot and decided to take a rest 
for a spell. He hadn't sat down for more than a few seconds when the 
fog cleared away and he saw that he was at the top of his mountain."
	Dr. Mary fell silent. Natalie stared out the passenger door 
window at the countryside as it flowed by. She waited for the point of 
the story.
	Mary smiled as she realized that Natalie was waiting for her to 
finish. "The point, you see, is that he realized, as he looked down at the 
rugged mountainside he had climbed, that if God had allowed him to see 
more than just a little bit ahead at a time, he would've given up long 
before he reached the top. 
	"Sometimes, when we see the big picture, it overwhelms us. 
Sometimes it's far better if we don't know exactly where we're headed or 
how rough the road ahead is. When we can only see a tiny bit ahead we 
can manage the one step at a time it takes to get us where we need to 
go. And after all, one step at a time is better than not moving at all."

~~~~~
	The sun beat down on the field and on his back. He felt weary 
to the bone but he wasn't about to let his father hear him complain. If he 
wanted to go to the festival he would have to prove that he was old 
enough. He kept pace with his father as they walked along the stone 
wall and continued to lift the stones into place. The wall had to be high 
enough to keep their stock within its boundaries, the boundaries of their 
lands.
	He had heard his father and mother arguing about his going to 
the festival last night. His mother had insisted that he was old enough 
to begin to see more of the world. His father hadn't thought so. 
	He could still hear his father's reply. "If he can do the work of a 
man, he can be treated as a man. Until then, he is still a boy and must be 
treated as such."
	"You underestimate him," his mother's voice said.
	"I'll be taking Eric."
	"And would taking both your sons be too much for you to 
handle?" his mother challenged.
	He had held his breath while waiting to hear his father's 
answer.
	"If he proves to be a better worker this summer, I'll consider 
it...."
	He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and reached 
down for the next stone. He didn't care if he dropped dead in his tracks, 
he would prove he was man enough to go to festival this year. After all, 
he was twelve and would be thirteen this winter. Eric had gone to 
festival the first time at eleven. But then, Eric had been firstborn. He 
would just have to work harder, that's all.
~~~~~

	The sound of his phone ringing brought Nick up from sleep. 
He remained in bed and ran his hand through his hair as he listened to 
his recorder cut in and waited to hear who was calling.
	His message played followed by the beep. The next thing he 
heard was the sound of someone hanging up. 
	He closed his eyes for a moment. Well, he thought, if it had 
been important, whoever it was would have left a message or would call 
back. He dropped his hand from his head and pushed himself to a 
sitting position on the edge of the bed. 
	Instantly, the room began to spin and he grabbed at the edge 
of the bed on both sides of him to keep from falling forward towards the 
floor. Shutting his eyes, he waited for the dizziness to subside. He could 
still feel the heat at his back and the extreme weariness he remembered 
from his dream.
	It had been a long time since he had remembered his parents. It 
seemed strange that he would dream of them now. But then, you 
generally aren't in control of your dreams, he told himself.
	After only a few seconds, he felt the last of the dizziness fade 
and opened his eyes. Standing, he could actually feel the fatigue in his 
back and legs and shook his head. Maybe Natalie had the right idea 
about taking some time off. This night watch commander business was 
proving to be more than he had bargained for. He headed for the shower 
and some welcome relief for sore and tired muscles.

	Tracy opened her eyes to find Vachon sitting at her bedside. 
She looked over at the clock on the wall and saw that it was still the 
middle of the afternoon.
	"Vachon," she scolded, "you shouldn't be out before dark. 
How did you get in here?"
	He grinned. "I'm pleased to see you, too. At least, all in one 
piece, anyway."
	Tracy blushed, slightly. He was trying to avoid her question. "I 
mean it, Javier. You shouldn't be here."
	"You want me to go?" Vachon asked, still grinning.
	"I didn't say that," she responded hastily.
	Ah, he mouthed and then looked her in the eyes. He was very 
glad that she was all right. Very glad. Tracy was staring at him 
expectantly. He was going to have to tell her.
	"I've been here since last night, but since your father and all 
the other cops where in and out of here so much, I had to wait until now 
to see you," he told her.
	"You mean you've been in the hospital all day?" she said, 
wonder on her face and a just little pleased that he would be this 
concerned about her.
	"Yep." He smiled at her again.
	Tracy noted the look of mischievous relief on his face and 
returned his smile. "Thanks," she finally told him. "And, I am happy to 
see you." 
	 Vachon could tell that she was happy to see him. That fact 
made him feel especially glad he had waited for her to wake. His smile 
faded as he tried to place a stern look on his young face.
	"Detective Vetter," he said in his most serious tone, "why did 
you let yourself get shot?"

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This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 6)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Well, she told herself after hanging up, at least you know 
you've found the right Knight in the phone book. He wouldn't be up 
and about until dusk. She had to wait a little while longer. 
	She decided that she was hungry and, grabbing her coat, 
headed out of her hotel room. At least she could count on the sun for 
some protection for now.
	Opting for what she hoped was the safest place, she chose a 
hotel in the mid-price range. One that didn't front out onto a main 
thoroughfare but was close enough to one to allow her ready access to 
transportation. One that was inconspicuous and innocuous. The one 
she now stayed at was on a small one-way side street off of Yonge. 
There was a coffee shop next door and she decided to go there for a 
sandwich and some java. After eating, she would head to 101 Gateway 
and find her Knight.

	"The sand you found does lead across the roof but the trail 
ends there. We couldn't find any traces of it along any edge of the 
building for over a hundred yards in all directions. I'm sorry, Nick," 
Arthur told him. He really wanted to have good news for the watch 
commander. Not just because a cop had gotten shot, although that was 
reason enough, but because he really liked Nick and hated letting him 
down.
	Nick sighed in exasperation. There were two possibilities. 
Either the perp's shoes didn't pick up enough sand to carry any further 
than the roof edge or he didn't get off the roof by finding his way back 
down to the ground. If the latter was true, how did he get off the roof? 
The obvious possibility posed another question. If he was a vampire, 
what was he doing running from an assault scene and why shoot 
Tracy? Why not just disappear, fly away? 
	Shaking himself, Nick came back to the conversation at hand. 
"Okay," he said into the phone, "what about the ballistics?"
	"Well, the bullet was from a .32 caliber. Nothing really unusual 
about it, either. There were no other slugs in the alley and since the gun 
was a revolver, there was no spent casing to find."
	 Nick noted the apologetic tone in Arthur's voice. Forensics 
had found a monumental number of fingerprints in the alley. The job of 
sorting through all of them would take time and even then, their perp 
might not be among them. Tracy couldn't identify the perp because she 
didn't get a good look at his face. Neither did Rhoades. The department 
was losing ground on this one. Damn.
	"Yeah, all right," he told the forensic. "Can I have the written 
reports on my desk this evening?"
	"I'll make sure they're there when you get in, Nick," Arthur 
promised.
	"Thanks."
	After hanging up, Nick wondered what he should do now. His 
first thought was to go back to the alley and try to follow the sand trail 
again. There was a slim chance that he might be able to find something 
that Forensics missed up on that roof. He wished that Nat was on this 
case so he would have someone to talk over the possibilities with. 
Natalie....
	He headed upstairs to finish getting dressed. The shower he 
had taken had helped his sore muscles but had done nothing to help his 
hurting heart.

	"We were in the area, that's all," Ed said, obviously peeved at 
answering the same question for the umpteenth time. 
	"But you guys are homicide," Rogers replied. 
	"And we were right there. Are you telling me that if YOU were 
at the scene of an assault, you wouldn't do squat because you're IA? 
Come on. We're all cops, right?" Ed had had just about as much of this 
as he was going to take. He felt terrible about all of this. What the hell 
was wrong with these guys, anyway?
	"So you called the flight in and let your partner make chase," 
Wilkins said from across the table. 
	"Yeah, I did. She was the closest to him when he took off, I 
was nearest the car and the radio. As soon as I put the call in I took off 
after them to provide backup for my partner. That IS department 
procedure and that's what I did." He was having a real hard time keeping 
a civil tone anymore. He DEFINITELY didn't like where these questions 
were headed.
	"And you didn't see the perp shoot your partner," Rogers said 
from behind him.
	"No!" That WAS it. Ed stood up. "I didn't see the shooting. I 
was running like hell and I heard the shot just as I came through the 
construction site. When I reached Tracy she was on the ground. If I 
could've been there first, I would've. I'd give anything to have been the 
one who got there first. 
	"You can tell the Commissioner, the commander, the captain or 
whoever the hell else you want what you want," he punctuated his 
statement by jamming his finger onto the tabletop," but that's the way it 
went down and telling you for the thousandth time isn't going to help 
change it any." With that, Ed headed for the door of interrogation to get 
out of there.
	"Where are you going?" Rogers said as he moved to block 
Rhoades' exit.
	"Wherever the hell you two aren't! Get out of my way. I've 
given you my statement and I don't have anything left to add." Ed 
glared at Rogers.
	Hesitating for just a second longer, Rogers returned Rhoades' 
stare and then stepped only slightly sideways. Rhoades pushed past 
him and was out the door, slamming it as he left. Rogers looked at his 
partner and they nodded to each other. Their report was almost ready 
for filing.

	When the phone rang, twice, and then stopped, he figured he 
had better get ready. It was nearing dusk. There was more work to be 
done and the information would be coming in soon. 
	He couldn't say that a new assignment would be unwelcome. 
His current assignment had been just about as boring as assignments 
get and he was going to enjoy a change. 
	As usual, exactly two minutes after the phone had rung the 
first time, it rang again. He waited for the third ring and picked up the 
receiver.
	"Yeah...."

	The light from the sun was waning rapidly. Nick headed back 
downstairs to get his gun out of the desk before heading out. He 
reached the bottom of the staircase and heard the sound of his entry 
door buzzer. Pulling open the desk drawer, he removed his gun and 
headed toward the control panel by the loft entry door to answer the 
buzz. He hit the button and checked the weapon's clip before holstering 
the gun.
	"Hello?" he heard a woman's voice say. 
	It took another second for the monitor to fade completely up. 
Nick looked into the face of someone he had never seen before. "Yes?"
	"Are you Nick Knight?"
	"Yeah, I'm him."
	"Thank God I found you," the stranger said. "I need your 
help."

	Tracy was asleep. It was a sleep that she needed. Vachon sat 
at her bedside for another moment before he heard the voices of Tracy's 
father and a nurse up the hall. Dusk was falling and he would be able to 
get out of the hospital now. 
	Leaning down, he gently kissed her cheek and caressed the 
back of her IV-laden hand. "Get well," he whispered.
	Richard Vetter entered his daughter's hospital room and 
paused. He could have sworn there was somebody in the room as he 
entered. He looked around and found no one but the sleeping form of 
his little girl. He shrugged to himself. It must just have been the slight 
breeze he felt, that's all....

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This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 7)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Natalie nursed her tea and thought about what she could really 
tell her friend. It was just so hard to talk about Nick when what she 
could tell anyone about him was so limited. To make matters worse, Dr. 
Mary was a physician, so any explanation about Nick's condition 
couldn't be blamed on some illness that she would be perfectly aware of. 
No, their discussions had to center around what she, herself, felt. 
	Maybe that's what really bothered her. Talking about how she 
felt was never something that had come easily to Natalie. She had done 
more of that with Nick than she had with any other person in her life. 
But, how do you talk about Nick with Nick? she thought. 
	"Why don't you begin at the beginning,"  Mary said.
	Natalie looked up from her teacup and stared at Mary as if she 
wasn't quite sure what she had said. "What?"
	Mary smiled to herself. "This is about Nick, isn't it? Why don't 
you talk about how you two met? Start at the beginning."
	Start at the beginning? How was she going to do that? She 
couldn't tell Dr. Mary about how she had met Nick or about how their 
relationship started, could she? What little she could tell wouldn't make 
much sense.
	"But I don't want you to tell me just about what happened," 
Mary continued. "Tell me about what you felt."
	Natalie looked into Mary's face. What she felt.... What exactly 
had she felt when Nick first came into her life? 
	"It was a long time ago," Natalie said in an attempt to avoid 
starting this discussion, one she wasn't at all sure she felt emotionally 
capable of holding with anyone.
	"Nonsense," Mary said. "I met my husband over forty years 
ago and I can still remember how I felt the first time I laid eyes on him."
	Natalie could see the reminiscent look in Dr. Mary's eyes. She 
could also see an understanding that she wanted, needed. Maybe, if 
she spent the time to just talk about how she felt, the emotion of it all, 
she wouldn't have to talk about the vampiric details. Maybe....

	"I'll be in as soon as I can. Let me know as soon as IA has their 
report ready," Nick told the desk sergeant on duty.
	"Sure thing, Nick," Blain said.
	"Thanks," Nick said before hanging up. Looking up at his 
surprise guest, he couldn't help but wonder about her. His vampiric 
senses told him she was one of their kind but that wasn't possible. She 
had a heartbeat and her body temperature was way too high. Maybe 
she was like Liam, a hunter. If that was the case, why had she asked for 
his help? Nick could tell that she was scared, genuinely scared. 
	"Now," he said as he moved to stand behind the sofa and 
addressed the woman who was examining the sculpted facade of his 
mantle, "how can I help you?"
	She looked up at him and met his eyes. "By keeping me alive," 
she said without preamble.

	The doors to the club swung open and a man dressed in a 
finely tailored black suit entered. LaCroix knew what his visitor was at 
once. What the hell was one of them doing here?
	He listened for the strains of his son's mind. Nicholas was at 
play in his sham of a mortal life. He sensed nothing unusual. This wasn't 
about his son, then. Good. He wasn't in the mood to kill anyone just 
now. After all, he had a monologue to prepare.
	The new arrival to the club slowly wound his way through the 
crowd on the dance floor and was gleaning looks of amusement from 
the regulars. The obviousness of his dress told the company that he 
was new and there for reasons other than to imbibe in the club's 
atmosphere.
	Nodding to the bartender, LaCroix ordered a glass of the 
Special Reserve for his new guest and had it waiting for him when he 
reached the bar. He remained seated and took a languid sip of his own 
drink while waiting for his guest to speak.
	"You are LaCroix." It wasn't a question but a statement. The 
voice was emotionless and firm.
	LaCroix swallowed the liquid in his mouth and then held up his 
glass, examining the play of light across its surface as he decided 
whether or not to answer. He opted not to.
	"We have business." 
	LaCroix raised an eyebrow, no more. He took another sip of his 
drink.
	"You would do well not to anger me," his guest informed him, 
his tone growing dark. 
	The smile that spread across LaCroix's face made his bartender 
move to the other end of the bar. The power that both these men 
radiated was unnerving and the other vampires at the bar could sense 
the battle at hand. All were watching the proceedings and several 
decided that now would be a good time to take to the dance floor and 
get away from the bar for the time being.
	Sensing the power in his uninvited guest, LaCroix weighed his 
options. He was powerful as well. Let his guest posture, he would wait 
and see just exactly what was wanted with him. Let your opponent 
reveal the game, he thought. He swallowed again.
	His eyes narrowed as he studied the vampire he had been sent 
to find. This LaCroix was everything he had been warned of, and more.  
There would be no intimidation here. Cooperation was the only thing he 
could hope to achieve. The life of his progeny might be a sufficient 
bargaining chip. It wasn't a chip he was prepared to play. Not yet. 
Perhaps a more direct approach would open the lines of communication 
more quickly.
	"I could drain the nearest mortal in an instant. I wonder how 
you would explain that to the local constabulary. You see, I have 
nothing to lose by such a wanton display." He kept his voice 
emotionless and even.
	For the first time, LaCroix looked directly into the face of his 
guest. His guest was perfectly capable of carrying out his threat, he was 
sure. Indeed, LaCroix had paid a price to participate in the current life of 
his son. Decorum must be maintained if that were to remain true. 
	He nodded. His response was succinct. All that was 
necessary, under the circumstances. 
	Rising, LaCroix headed for his office. He didn't wait to 
determine if his guest would follow. 

	Chantel closed up her flower stand for the second evening in a 
row without the appearance of her favorite customer. She had saved a 
special bouquet just for him tonight in the hopes that he would return. 
	She tried not to feel too disappointed. After all, he was under 
no obligation to buy flowers, from her or from anyone else for that 
matter. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him. 
	Maybe he would be back tomorrow, she thought. Looking at 
the bouquet she had saved, she decided to take the flowers home. 
Maybe tomorrow. Chantel hoped so.

	He watched the old woman close up the flower stand. Last 
night he had tried to get the money. If it wasn't for those damn cops 
being right there so quick, he would've. Maybe this old lady's flowers 
would help him get what he needed. It couldn't be much but it was 
better than nothin'.
	As she headed up the street with her flowers and her bag, he 
stepped away from the arch where he was hiding to follow her. She 
would be even with the alley in just a few short yards....

All comments and virtual chocolate to 
This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 8)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"Is there any news? What progress?"
	The messenger appeared nervous. More so than was truly 
necessary for the situation. Although, he was among his betters and he 
knew it. 
	"I, uhhh.... Um. I've been, uhhh...." the messenger began, 
haltingly.
	"You try my patience," he informed the messenger.
	Vargo gave his associate an unhappy look. If he threatened the 
young messenger like that they might never get the information he was 
sent to give them. This one was very young, brought into their ranks 
after a successful case, and had not yet learned the full extent of his 
own abilities. He was conscientious but had very little backbone. His 
associate's manner was doing nothing to put him at ease, either.
	"Let him do his job," Vargo told his associate. "We will never 
hear if you frighten him."
	His associate looked up at him with a dispassion that was, in 
its sheer lack of emotion, chilling. "There are other ways to retrieve the 
information from him."
	Involuntarily, Vargo shuddered at the cold notion. His 
associate was right, of course, but they were far from resorting to such 
means for obtaining any type of information. He noted the absolute 
conviction in his associate's eyes with a new found revulsion and 
resolved to be done with this particular business association as quickly 
as circumstances allowed. 
	"We have no need of that. Not now," Vargo stated firmly. 
	When he again turned his attention to the messenger, he noted 
the absolute pallor and complete terror on the young one's face. Damn. 
It would be even harder to get the information now.
	"Shades! You see?" Vargo said as he gestured toward the 
messenger.
	His associate said nothing as he turned to look at the young 
one. Vargo heard nothing from his associate. He sighed and closed his 
eyes in resignation. It would be a long night, to be sure. The sound of a 
muffled cry brought his attention immediately back to the messenger, 
who was now dangling limply in the grasp of his associate.
	He dropped the irritating messenger's body and let it fall to the 
floor. He ran his tongue across his fangs and allowed himself a small, 
low growl of satisfaction. The information the messenger wanted to give 
them was his. It was all there in his blood, including that sweet taste of 
complete terror. This was the best way to obtain the information 
anyway. No need to worry about the little ones. Expendablility was their 
chief virtue, after all.

	"Since I began working for Metro I've had several occasions to 
help with the injured. It's about the only chance I get to practice 
medicine among the living," Natalie explained, an embarrassed smile on 
her face.  The smile disappeared as she continued. "When I first met 
Nick he had been injured while trying to break up a gang robbery. 
Someone threw a pipe bomb and Nick was in the way. His injuries 
seemed very bad at first.  Thank God they weren't as bad as they 
appeared."
	God, forgive the lies, Natalie silently prayed. I just NEED to tell 
someone....
	"I couldn't believe that a complete stranger was so willing to 
risk his own life for people he didn't even know. Nick hadn't even joined 
the police force yet." Natalie shook her head in wonder and stared down 
into her now cold tea. "It was like he really was a knight in shining 
armor.  It almost seemed like something out of a story book.
	"He lay there unconscious ... injured ... helpless. I looked into 
his face and thought...."  She paused. God, why was this so hard?
	Mary cleared her throat quietly. The emotion Natalie was 
radiating was contagious. This was an old story. Brave and selfless, 
handsome and caring. Nick had a lot of these qualities. Mary had seen 
them for herself. What needed to happen was for Natalie to rediscover 
what was so special about this relationship. What was it the made her 
take that second look?
	Natalie looked up at her friend.
	"What was it that you thought, Natalie?" Mary prodded 
quietly. "Tell me."
	Natalie looked back down at her own reflection in the dark 
liquid of her cup. She could still see the wonder in her own eyes. Her 
voice was nearly a whisper as she continued. 
	"I thought how handsome he looked. I thought how strange it 
was that he had given of himself that way and all he got in return was 
wounded. I thought ... I thought I would like to know this man. Is that 
so strange?"
	Mary noted the tears that had pooled in her young friend's 
eyes as Natalie looked up to search her face. "No," she said softly. "It's 
perfectly normal. I think I would have thought the same thing if I had 
been in your place." 
	She nodded to Natalie and waited. The reassurance took a few 
minutes to penetrate Natalie's heart. She was looking for the foundation, 
searching with spiritual feet to see if it was still there, still solid. It took 
some time but, Mary smiled with satisfaction, Natalie was finding it 
again. The tenderness that spread across Natalie's face heralded her 
discovery of that foundation. Yes, there it was, thought Mary. Those 
first feelings and thoughts. Those first hopes were still alive and well in 
Natalie. Now all they had to do was bring them out of the past and into 
tomorrow....

	He heard the scream. It was coming from below in an alley. 
With speed that defied human sight, he headed toward the sound of a 
gunshot.
	What he found when he entered the alley made him angry. A 
man stood over an old woman rummaging through her purse. The pool 
of blood that began to expand under the woman's body was emanating 
from a bullet hole in her chest. She was dead.
	The man who had shot her looked up from the purse and saw 
an image from his worst nightmare.
	Vachon growled loud and grabbed the man by his neck and 
flung him backwards into the far wall of the alley. He could hear the 
sirens and knew that the arrival of the authorities was imminent. He 
paused a moment to make sure the man was alive. Too bad, Vachon 
thought. Killing this mortal would have made him feel better. He took 
one last glimpse at the body of the old woman and shot into the air just 
before the lights from the police car turned into the alleyway.    
	He watched the cops get out of their patrol car from the roof. 
What a bloody shame....

	"Well, girl, here you are," she told herself. She had only 
managed to get a short way into her sad, sad tale when another phone 
call came in and her would-be knight in shining armor literally flew from 
her midst. 
	"Now what?" she asked an empty room.
	"Now, my dear, you will explain to me why you have come 
here."
	She whirled around and jumped back against the mantle only 
to find that the person who had spoken to her was standing mere feet 
from her. He was tall, pale and dressed completely in black. The sword 
pin that closed the collar of his shirt pointed to his jugular vein, an irony 
that she found no time to laugh at. She was too busy being terrified by 
the demanding look in his ice blue eyes....

	"If someone had told me that I could ever feel this way about 
anyone," Natalie confided as she waited for her hostess to return to the 
table with a fresh cup of hot tea, "I wouldn't have believed them. I've 
been doing my own thing, you know? Living my life without anyone for 
so long.  Then one day, there he was; hurt, bleeding, in need of my help. 
Nick was so sure that he couldn't get beyond his own past, beyond the 
demons, that he felt like he even needed to warn me at the very 
beginning. He told me not to get too close. That he might hurt me even 
though he didn't want to. The truth is that I didn't care. I didn't care then 
and I don't care now."
	"No?" Mary asked as she returned and set the cup in front of 
Natalie. "Then why the soul searching?"
	Natalie thought for a moment. She didn't have an answer, did 
she?

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This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 9)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Damn! DAMN! 
	He crouched next to the body. Chantel had been a kind and 
gentle woman.
	There was a grand total of twenty-seven dollars and forty 
cents in her purse. Hardly a great haul for the murderer.
	There was a bouquet of flowers lying next to her body. 
Sunflowers. The flowers he had always bought for Nat. She had called 
them 'little suns'.  They didn't cast much light now. 
	Clenching his fists and closing his eyes, Nick fought to 
prevent the rising of his beast. The anger burned hot within him. This 
killing was so senseless! God, how he hated the killing. There had been 
so much killing, so many dead. So many ... at his own hand....
	Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Nick rose. The perp 
had shot Chantel with a .32 caliber revolver. The location of this assault 
was only four blocks from the assault Tracy and Ed had interrupted the 
night before. Perhaps they had caught the perp who had shot Tracy. 
Small consolation that was going to be to Chantel's family, Nick thought 
bitterly.
	He turned and looked at the handcuffed shooter, now standing 
where they had found him unconscious on arrival to the scene. The 
murderer was telling his story.
	"That's what I said. It was just some guy. He showed up and 
shot the lady and then just picked me up like a rag doll, man. He was like 
a crazy man. He pushed me and I hit the wall, hard. I don't remember 
nothin' else until you cops woke me up. My head is still killin' me."
	"And you don't know how this weapon came to be in YOUR 
pocket," Carlton was asking.
	"I don't know," he replied. "The other guy musta put it there 
after I was out."
	"So," Carlton continued, heavy on the sarcasm, "when we dust 
this gun it shouldn't have your prints on it then, should it?"
	The shooter swallowed and looked at the bagged gun Carlton 
held in his hand and then up at the detective. "I don't have nothin' more 
to say until I talk to my lawyer, man."
	"Yeah," Swanson, Carlton's partner, remarked. "I bet you 
don't."
	Nick approached Carlton and nodded towards the perp. "Let 
me talk to him for a moment."      
	"Sure, Nick. Whatever you say," Carlton said, obviously 
disgusted with the perp's attitude and his obvious guilt.      
	"Twenty-seven dollars and forty cents," Carlton muttered as 
he walked away. "He shot her for twenty-seven dollars and forty 
goddamn cents...."
	Turning to Swanson, Nick nodded after Carlton. "You better 
go make sure your partner doesn't break his fist by slugging a wall."
	Swanson looked after his partner, "Yeah, I guess I'd better. 
You'll be all right with this guy?"
	"I think I can handle him," Nick said, a grim look on his face.
	"Okay. But just holler if you need anything." Swanson gave 
the night watch commander one last look and then headed out to find 
his partner.  Nick was one hell of a cop but he had a temper too. It 
wasn't too long ago that Nick had been sanctioned for assaulting that 
guy who had raped Natalie Lambert. But then, if it had been his girl that 
had been raped, Swanson thought, they would have found the guy with 
a bullet in his groin and one in his chest. 
	After Swanson had moved away, Nick looked up at the 
murderer's face and waited for the man to return his gaze. He listened for 
the man's heartbeat. He didn't hear it.
	Confused, he shook his head. Nick stared down at the ground 
and tried to bring his thoughts into focus. What the hell was wrong 
with him? Why couldn't he hear this guy's heartbeat?  The perp wasn't a 
vampire, that was certain.
	"What the hell's wrong with you?" the perp asked snidely, 
noticing Nick's discomfort.
	Nick's anger returned at the tone of the perp's voice and with 
his anger came the vampire. His eyes were instantly golden and his 
fangs dropped into place. Looking back up into the perp's face he 
growled low and placed a hand alongside the man's head to lean in 
close. 
	"I don't like people who shoot nice old women. That's what's 
wrong with me."
	The sound of this murder's heart was clear to Nick now. It 
would be so easy to kill him. He deserved to die. He had killed Chantel.
	You can't, Nick told himself. No!
	Nick shut his eyes again to try to take control of the rage he 
felt. Right now, he needed to be a cop. Taking a deep breath, he looked 
back up into the face of a killer.
	"You killed her, didn't you?"
	There was something about this cop that scared him. It was 
like this cop could kill him, easily. He swallowed nervously and tried to 
think about what to tell him. The last thing he wanted to see was those 
gold eyes again. What the hell was this guy?
	Nick was losing the battle against his anger. "DIDN'T YOU?"
	"Yeah..." he heard himself answering in fear of being torn 
apart, literally. "Yeah."
	"Why?"
	The threat in that voice terrified him. "She wouldn't give me her 
bag, man. All I wanted was the bag."
	"You shot a police officer last night, didn't you?"
	Those eyes seemed to burn into him. "How did you know 
about that?" 
	"DIDN'T YOU?"
	"Yeah ... yeah, all right. I did. I shot 'em both," he admitted, 
shaking in fear.
	The sound of Nick's raised voice brought the attention of the 
other officers in the alley to the pair. Bentley moved to offer assistance 
to the watch commander.
	"Everything okay here, Nick?"
	Nick continued to stare at the man in front of him for a moment.  
"I think our man here is ready to tell us that he's the murderer. Get 
Carlton and Swanson back here."
	Bentley glanced from Nick to the perp and back again. "Yeah. 
Right away," he said as he turned to call after the detectives in 
question. Damnedest thing, he thought. Nick could get blood from a 
turnip.

	Her senses told her that this was a vampire. Not just any old 
vampire, either. She swallowed and tried to peel herself off of the carved 
wood at her back to stand up straight. 
	"Who the hell are you?" she asked the vampire.
	LaCroix stared at the woman who occupied his son's loft for a 
few moments trying to decide whether or not to kill her now or wait until 
she had told him everything he wanted to know. He could sense a 
tremor of vampiric power in her and yet she was mortal. The 
impossibility of this phenomena took him aback a bit. There were only 
two possibilities.  Either she was a hunter or....
	The other possibility was that she had been a vampire and had 
regained her mortality. Just as Janette had done. This would explain a 
great deal, including the purpose for his uninvited guest's visit to his 
club earlier that evening.
	"I will only ask you once more. Why have you come here?"
	The tone of his voice left no room for doubt. He would kill her 
if she didn't tell him what he wanted to know. Most likely, he would kill 
her even if she did tell him. So, she told herself, you've traveled an 
ocean to find protection and instead walked into the face of death....

	It was late when Natalie returned to the Schankes' cabin by the 
lake. She got ready for bed as she thought about what Dr. Mary had 
said.
	Maybe she HAD forgotten the reason she had promised to 
help Nick. It wasn't because she loved him. She didn't, not at first. 
Although, she had to admit that he had touched a deep part of her that 
first night in the morgue. 
	No. The simple fact of the matter was, she hoped to be able to 
bring him back to mortality because she WANTED to love him. Even 
before she really knew Nick, he had fascinated and excited her. Even 
when she was terrified of him. Even then. Just like now ... like right now.

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This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 10)
by Carrie Krumtum

	The night sounds reverberated softly around the lake as 
Natalie walked. She hadn't been able to sleep. Not that sleep would have 
helped her much. The problem would still exist when she awoke. The 
problem.... Nick.
	No, she told herself. Not Nick, ME. It was the fear and the 
uncertainty and the fear and the trepidation and the fear.... What was it 
that she was really afraid of? She had been trying to define it. Talking 
with Dr. Mary had helped some. Nick's vampirism was something she 
had dealt with at the very beginning of their relationship. It wasn't the 
thing that defined him any more than his blue eyes, blond hair or six 
foot frame defined him. He was so much more. 
	What was frightening Natalie now was the loss. She had lost 
so much. Losses of all kinds. Until the assault she hadn't really thought 
about them. In dealing with the losses caused by the assault she had 
begun to think about all the things that loving Nick meant she had to 
give up. Normal things. The things that she had always wanted....
	A gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the trees that surrounded 
the water. The sound of her footsteps crunching on the fine earth of the 
lake shore whispered loudly in the quiet of this nocturnal time. Natalie 
was alone with her heart. What was it that she really wanted? 
	Her intervention therapist, Kelly Nourtory, had explained it. 
Surviving rape meant facing life and that meant defining what you really 
want and then taking control of your behavior in an attempt to achieve 
your goals. And lately, it was her own behavior that had become the 
problem. 
	After Nick had brought her home from the cabin, things had 
gone pretty much like she thought they would. She spent two more 
weeks in her cast and then had finally been allowed to go back to work a 
week after Dr. Shipley had removed it. Throughout her convalescence, 
Nick had been there helping, calming, loving her. She had needed him 
so desperately and he had been right there. 
	She had been home only a few weeks before Nick had insisted 
that she start going to intervention therapy. Natalie had resisted the 
idea.
	"It's not what you think, Nat," Nick had said.
	"I know exactly what it is," she'd replied sharply.
	"Then why won't you go?" 
	Natalie had had to think about that for a moment. When she 
did answer, she knew that her reason wasn't a good one. "I guess I'm 
scared."
	The soft look of compassion and understanding on Nick's face 
as he took her into his arms gave her courage. "I know," his gentle 
voice told her. "I'll go with you, if you'd like."
	"No," she said after a few moments within the shelter of his 
embrace. "I know I need to do this. I just don't know if I can."
	"You can, Nat. You can."
	And she did. The first few sessions with Kelly had been rough. 
Natalie had to deal with a world that had become suddenly much darker 
than it had ever been before the attack. The sense of security that she 
once felt in going about her daily life was gone. 	
	Slowly, day by day, Kelly and Nick helped her to learn to face 
the life she had chosen again. Each step had been Natalie's to take, each 
decision hers to make. Intervention helped her to learn about the 
emotional tools she could use to take back control of her life and Nick 
gave her the love and support she needed to start to put those tools 
into practice.
	She had made a lot of progress. As the days turned into weeks 
and then months, Natalie began to look forward to her life again. She 
looked forward to their efforts to bring Nick back across, to her job, to 
every second that she spent with Nick. She was learning to recapture 
some happiness.
	Then she and Nick had begun to argue. They argued about his 
taking the promotion at the precinct, his compliance with her 
prescriptions for his treatment, his propensity for getting himself shot....
	Hugging herself, Natalie paused in her trek around the lake and 
stared out at the dancing light of the half moon on the ripples of the 
lake's surface. She could still feel the sinking feeling that had enveloped 
her when Nick arrived at her apartment that night. He had cornered a 
suspect in an alley after leaving Tracy in the Caddy to call for backup 
and the suspect unloaded his entire clip into Nick. Most of the bullets 
passed right through his chest but two of them had hit bone, one his 
left clavicle, the other his eighth rib. 
	After removing the bullets and joking lightly about Nick 
learning to duck better, Natalie began to think about how quickly Nick 
was likely to get himself killed if he did become mortal again. He had 
been a vampire for so long that he had stopped taking any kind of 
precautions to prevent himself injury. If he became mortal, how long 
would she have him in her life? If he didn't, how long could he remain in 
this current life before his lack of aging became obvious? Either way, 
she couldn't depend on their ever having a 'normal' relationship. Not 
completely. 
	"Can anyone?" Nick had asked.
	It wasn't that simple. Of course, she told herself, no life comes 
with any guarantees. Still, she could lose everything; her youth, her 
chances for children, marriage, a lifetime partnership, the one person she 
knew she truly loved ... everything. 
	She had already lost so much. With Nick in her life she couldn't 
imagine loving anyone else. Her world had been filled with him; his own 
world of darkness and doubt, the threat of the discovery of her 
knowledge of his world and the danger that posed for her. She had lost 
the innocence of her mortality by learning of the immortal.
	Then there were the things the attack had taken from her. She 
had lost her joy and peace for a time. It was true that Nick had helped 
her to find much of that again but it was as Kelly had told her, "You can 
never go back to the day before the rape and be that person again. You 
are who you are now, memories of the attack and all. Now you have to 
learn to live a life you can accept and find happiness in. Today will 
always hold the promise of happiness but you have to find it for 
yourself. No one can give it to you."
	Natalie wondered about that. Nick had given her so much. 
Couldn't she also find happiness with him? Not if he gets himself killed, 
she thought. 
	That thought frightened her. So did the thought that their 
attempts to bring him back across would all be fruitless. He would never 
give her his darkness and there was a very large part of her that was 
terrified at becoming what Nick was. Her fear, she now realized, was that 
after all of it, after everything she had been through, with Nick, with the 
attack, with all of the rest of her life, she would still wind up growing old 
alone. 	
	Looking up at the stars above her, Natalie wondered what they 
must feel, hanging in the blackness of space, billions of miles away from 
the nearest celestial neighbor. Lonely, she whispered to her heart. 
Lonely and frightened.

	Sitting at his desk, Nick stared at all the reports. Reports that 
chronicled the results of the forensic examination of the evidence found 
at the scene of Tracy's shooting, IA's findings in the case, the arrest 
report for Chantel's murderer, Tracy's progress, the preliminary autopsy 
results....
	The words ran together. He couldn't concentrate on any of it. 
He was glad that Rhoades was cleared by IA. He was glad that Tracy 
would be released tomorrow and he knew he should probably go see 
her. He knew that ballistics would confirm that the gun used to kill 
Chantel also fired the bullet that hit Tracy. He knew that they had the 
right perp in custody. None of it seemed to matter.
	There was a woman at his loft that he didn't know who was 
asking for his help. Asking him to protect her. He sensed her like he 
would another of his kind but she was mortal. Could he trust his own 
senses? They seemed to be playing tricks on him lately. 
	Something was happening to him and the one person he really 
needed to talk to about it was miles away dealing with the pain he had 
caused her. 
	Nat, he whispered to the rooms of his heart. I'm sorry ... I need 
you ... I love you.
	He leaned his head into his hands and closed his eyes against 
a world without her.

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This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 11)
by Carrie Krumtum

	She had told him the truth, of that he was certain. LaCroix sat in 
the quiet of his office and contemplated his next move. Nicholas was 
certain to take her story as vindication, the foolish boy.
	LaCroix had recourse there still, this wasn't the biggest issue 
that he faced. No, the arrival of the Restorer was. His 'assignment' had 
to be the woman LaCroix had left in his son's loft. This was a problem 
that possessed all the potential of complete disaster. These Restorers 
thought nothing of killing their own kind. That was how they 
maintained their control. LaCroix not only understood the usefulness of 
the tactic but had practiced it himself. Even that wasn't the real problem. 
	The problem was Nicholas. He was completely ignorant of the 
existence of the Restorers or of the role they played in the community. 
LaCroix had thought it best to keep this information from his son. His 
son had no idea how powerful these vampires were. Not that it would 
matter to him. Nicholas would do the 'chivalrous' thing and protect his 
new charge with his own life if necessary. That was his way. 
	And Nicholas would more than likely be killed. For weeks, 
LaCroix had sensed a weakening of his link with his son. He had sensed 
this weakening once before, when his son had managed to achieve the 
sunlight for a single day. That brush with mortality had alerted members 
of the community to Nicholas' efforts. The Restorers may already be 
aware of his son's predilections toward the humanity that surrounded 
him. 
	Indeed, his son had seen that the goal of regaining his 
mortality was possible. The lovely Janette had done it. Fortunately, 
Nicholas had resolved that case before the Restorers could learn of her 
reversion and deal with her. 
	LaCroix allowed himself a small smile at the irony. Nicholas had 
fulfilled the office of Restorer by bringing Janette back across. The 
alternative, allowing Janette to die, would also have fulfilled the office 
but not to LaCroix's satisfaction. Although, right now he was greatly 
displeased with Janette for telling this new waif about Nicholas. 
	The debate about the propriety of Nicholas' quest was 
pointless, LaCroix thought. He must do something. Nicholas was facing 
a danger that would take his life, immortal or mortal, regardless.

	Vachon sensed him an instant before he entered. Turning in 
the chair that sat next to Tracy's bed, he looked at the vampire that 
entered the hospital room. 
	Nick spotted Vachon on entering. He wasn't all that surprised 
to find him there. Nodding to the younger vampire, he stepped into the 
room and allowed the door to swing quietly shut behind him.
	Rising, Vachon started to move toward the new arrival.
	Nick shook his head to tell Vachon to remain where he was. He 
approached the back of the chair as Vachon eased back down into it. 
	"How is she?" Nick whispered.
	"Tired, sore, lucky," he replied, softly.
	Nick nodded. Tracy HAD been lucky. Hopefully she had 
learned a lesson and would wait for more backup before charging into 
any more dark alleys. Nick sighed.
	Vachon thought he sensed something in Knight but he wasn't 
sure just what. Fatigue, maybe. Or maybe the weight of this human life 
he tried to live. "Are you all right?" he found himself asking.
	"I'm fine," Nick replied, a little short at the thought that his 
discomfort with current circumstances was that apparent. 
	He looked at Tracy and nodded towards her sleeping form. 
"We caught the guy who shot her tonight," Nick informed the vampire.
	"Oh yeah?" Vachon said, pleased. "Where?"
	"In an alley off of Church. He was only a few blocks away from 
where she was shot," Nick explained, trying to keep his voice quiet to 
prevent waking Tracy. "He killed an older woman tonight in an attempt 
to rob her."
	Vachon tried to rein in the look of surprise and realization that 
flooded his face. 
	"What?" Nick asked when he saw the response from Vachon.
	"I think there's something I need to tell you about that," 
Vachon began.

	The sun would be setting over Paris in a few short hours. The 
news had been unexpected but was satisfying. As much as he disliked 
the idea of dealing with this particular associate, he couldn't think of 
anyone more qualified to send to Toronto. The initial contact with the 
vampire LaCroix had only reinforced his decision to use him.
	LaCroix's potential involvement meant that a traditional 
approach would most likely meet with defeat. Vargo nodded to the new 
messenger and sent him on his way to make preparations to send his 
associate to deal with the ancient vampire, his son and the revenant. He 
would kill three birds with one stone....

	"I'm sorry," Vachon told the older vampire. Knight's expression 
had gone cold. Vachon could think of no one who revered humanity 
more than Knight did. The fact that he was a vampire made the 
incongruity fall right off the irony scale. He shrugged. "I got there just 
after the shot. There was nothing I could do."
	Nick shifted in place and looked down toward his shoes. 
"Yeah," he heard himself say. They had moved out of Tracy's room and 
into a dark corridor of the hospital. Vachon had been the 'guy' who had 
tossed Chantel's murderer around like a 'rag doll'. At least that part of 
the perp's statement had been true. That didn't change any of the 
relevant facts. It wouldn't bring Chantel back. 
	Vachon tried to rationalize Knight's pensiveness. "You 
wouldn't have been able to save her, Knight."
	Nick's head snapped up and he stared at the vampire. He may 
not have been able to save her but that didn't change a damn thing. A 
woman he had known was dead and his last partner had been shot. If he 
hadn't taken this damn promotion, if he had beat Tracy into that alley 
and had taken the perp into custody then, Chantel would still be alive 
and Tracy wouldn't have a bullet wound.	
	The look of guilt in Knight's face made Vachon uncomfortable. 
Why was every mortal life Knight's personal responsibility, anyway? 
Man, this guy needed to get some perspective.... 

	He readied himself. This was a challenge worthy of his abilities. 
Let Vargo and his minions deal with their revenants. This ancient and 
his son would make interesting subjects. He silently thanked the latest 
revenant for bringing him this opportunity. In a short time he would be 
headed toward the other side of this ocean and a chance to show the 
whole community whom they should now fear....

	Natalie hadn't slept at all. The night had passed slowly as she 
walked the shores of the lake. Now she stood and watched the black 
fade to gray as the sun began to rise. 
	The rising of this nearest star heralded the ending of his day 
just as it had for seven hundred and sixty-eight years. The last six years 
he had spent with her in efforts to regain his mortality.  She had been 
the one to tell him that she could help him. She had made the promise to 
see this through. She had offered him hope. 
	What kind of hope did she have? Was there a hope that her 
love would be requited in her lifetime? Before she lost her youth? Before 
he was forced from her life by life, death or undeath? Did it matter?
	Hell yes, it mattered. If she didn't have hope, what did she 
have? Not one thing....

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This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 12)
by Carrie Krumtum 

	"He's been cleared by IA," Nick informed the captain as he 
pulled his Caddy around the corner of Gateway Lane. Slowing, he hit 
the garage door opener and waited for the door to rise high enough to 
admit the Caddy into the ground floor of the building that housed his 
loft.
	"I'm sure Ed was happy to hear that," Reese was saying.
	"Well actually, I haven't had an opportunity to tell him yet. I 
think Alvarez will this morning. Ed wasn't due back on shift until today."
	"That's fine," Joe told his night watch commander. 
	Nick pulled the car into the garage and hit the button to close 
the garage door after putting the gear into park. He thought he sensed 
something more in his captain. "Is there something else, Cap?"
	"I have to go back to the doctor today," Reese confided after a 
brief hesitation. "We'll find out if surgery is necessary, I guess. Denise 
is fit to be tied. I'll just be glad when the whole thing is all over, one way 
or the other."
	The gray light of the dawn disappeared as the garage door 
dropped back into place, secluding him in a dark world once again. "I 
hope everything's all right, Cap. We all do."
	"Thanks, Nick." 
	"I mean it, Joe. And let us know how it goes. Okay?" 
	"Will do. Get some rest," Joe advised.
	Not likely, Nick thought. "Yeah," he said in a tired voice before 
turning off his phone and getting out of the car to head for the elevator.
	After hitting the button to summon the elevator, he listened for 
the sound of human habitation in his loft. The unmistakable sound of a 
human heartbeat emanated from the floor above him. It was clear and 
strong, even with the loud noise of the elevator mechanism functioning. 
Nick didn't seem to be having any difficulty sensing this mortal. 
	The elevator stopped on the ground floor in front of him. He 
slid the door aside and stepped in. He punched the button for the 
second floor and then stuffed his hands into his pockets to await the 
ride up. Why did he have trouble hearing the perp's heartbeat in the 
alley earlier? 
	He shook his head. He felt tired, very tired. Maybe he just 
hadn't been concentrating well. There was a lot going on right now, not 
the least of which was this woman he was now headed to see. Nick had 
no idea if he could help her as she requested. He didn't know her name 
much less what she really wanted from him. Then, there was Chantel's 
murder, Tracy's injury, Natalie.... Nat. Damn....
	The elevator came to a halt on the second floor. Pulling open 
the door, Nick stepped into his loft. The lights were all off and a fire had 
been kindled in the fireplace. Casting his senses into the room, he 
immediately located his guest.
	She sat in a corner of the sofa with her knees pulled up to her 
chest and her head leaned forward, resting on her knees. She was 
apparently asleep.
	He took his jacket off, dropped it onto the banister and then 
headed for the refrigerator. Nick paused as he noticed that his guest had 
made some coffee. The coffee pot was still on and half full. The odor of 
the hot liquid reminded him of Natalie. He took a deep breath to try and 
calm an ache in his heart and moved to open the refrigerator door. As he 
pulled a bottle out and closed the door, he heard a stirring on the sofa. 
	"Who's there?" she asked, slightly startled. Something had 
moved in the room. 
	"I am," came a soft reply from the kitchen. Looking over the 
back of the sofa, Miranda eyed the vampire she had come to Toronto to 
find. She uncurled herself and allowed herself to breathe a small internal 
sigh of relief. She had never intended to go to sleep. She would have 
thought herself too frightened to sleep but her fatigue had won out. 
After all, she no longer had the stamina of a vampire. Mortality did have 
its drawbacks.
	Nick retrieved a glass goblet from the shelf next to the 
refrigerator and pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth. After 
pouring the dark liquid into the glass and setting the bottle down on the 
kitchen counter, he removed the cork from his mouth and placed it back 
into the neck of the bottle. 
	Miranda watched her host as he took a sip of the blood. She 
swallowed at the memory of the taste, the sensation of it. How long 
would she continue to long for that sensation again? 
	He swallowed and took another drink. The hunger he had felt 
on returning home was instantly calmed as he drank. After a few more 
sips, he moved to sit in the chair located next to his sofa and address 
the guest who was observing him so closely. 
	"I don't even know your name," Nick told her as he set his 
glass down and then seated himself. 
	"My name is Miranda," she told him as she watched him with a 
critical eye. The light of the fire danced on his face in the darkness of 
the room. She had made sure the shutters were closed well before dawn. 
The last thing she needed was to injure the person who might be able to 
help her. "I hope you don't mind, but I made myself some coffee."
	He looked at her with a curious gaze. Once again he noted the 
tremor of a vampiric nature from her, all the while listening to the steady 
beat of a very mortal heart. 
	"Not at all," he said quietly. She was dressed in jeans and a 
simple blouse, tennis shoes and a sweater. There was the unmistakable 
French accent that spoke of her heritage. Her brown hair was pulled 
back in a comb and her green eyes held the haunted look of someone 
who was living in fear. He guessed that she was about thirty. 
	She knew he was scrutinizing her. She didn't mind. It was 
perfectly natural. As a matter of fact, it was the most natural thing that 
had happened to her since her arrival at his home. Taking a deep breath 
and turning to stand, she asked, "You don't mind if I have some more 
then?"
	Nick slowly shook his head to indicate that he didn't. Miranda 
rose from the sofa and headed toward the kitchen. Nick picked up his 
glass and took another drink of his own potion of choice. He glanced at 
the fire and waited on his guest. 
	"You had a visitor earlier," Miranda decided to say after 
debating on exactly how to begin to tell him everything she knew she 
must.
	Nick went perfectly still. His first thought was that Natalie 
might have returned. He held his breath before daring to ask, "Who?"
	Miranda thought she sensed a note of hesitant expectation in 
his voice as she moved back to the corner of the sofa that she had 
previously occupied, this time with a cup of hot coffee in one hand. "He 
said his name was LaCroix," she informed him as she sat down. "And he 
is absolutely the scariest vampire I think I've ever met...."

	Evening had fallen over the city. He listened to the sounds this 
vampire made on the airwaves. A special associate was coming who 
would deal with this one. In truth, he had no real desire to challenge 
him. Even as he heard that voice on the radio, he remembered the sense 
of power and purpose LaCroix had radiated when he had contacted him. 
	No, he thought, best to let those who care little for their own 
existence attempt to cross this vampire....

	"A thousand lamentable objects there, in scorn of Nature, Art 
gave lifeless life: Many a dry drop seem'd a weeping tear ... the red 
blood reek'd to show the painter's strife; and dying eyes gleam'd forth 
their ashy lights, like dying coal burnt out in tedious nights.
	"Do you feel as if life were not a gift at all?
	"Would it have been better if you had remained dead? Lifeless 
in the night?
	"Has mortality given you all that you dreamed it would or is 
there regret for your birth or rebirth?
	"Ah, you can't say. I understand. The night is preferable. 
Death can be so liberating. But then, so can life, I suppose. It all 
depends on your point of view. 
	"For the Nightcrawler, there is but one choice ... and I will make 
it for you...." 

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This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 13)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Switching off the microphone and cueing the trailer, LaCroix 
turned to face the vampire that had arrived at his studio....

	Tracy entered her apartment with Vachon in tow. He was 
carrying some of the stuff she had to bring home from the hospital. 
Several trips back to the car were required in order to bring in all the 
flowers and gifts that had been sent to her hospital room.
	"You should really look into another line of work," Vachon was 
saying as he unburdened himself of the overnight bag and flowers he 
had in his hands. "I mean, you wouldn't have so much junk to bring 
home if you didn't go around getting yourself shot."
	She sat down on her couch slowly, holding her right side to 
protect the still tender muscles that had been invaded by a bullet, the 
surgeon's scalpel and a chest tube in the past three days. "You were the 
one that offered to bring me home. I could have let my dad do it, ya 
know."
	"Oh good," he replied, sarcasm thinly veiled, "another cop to 
encourage you."
	Tracy looked up to see a small grin begin to spread across 
Vachon's face. He was teasing her, she knew. It was kind of cool that he 
cared enough about her to be upset with her for being injured.  "I'm a 
cop, Vachon. Get used to it," she said, half joking, half serious. 
	Vachon stared down at her. She was a cop and she was mortal 
and he was finding it difficult to just walk away from her and go back to 
his own existence. Yeah, he might have a responsibility to her now, like 
Knight said. But did that mean he had to feel like this? Like she was 
more important than any other mortal he had met since he was brought 
across? 	
	He took a deep breath and furrowed his brow as he considered. 
Truth was, he didn't really know for sure why Tracy did mean so much 
to him. Women....
	"How DID you get your father to let someone else bring you 
home from the hospital, anyway?" he decided to ask. Tracy had been 
watching him and the last thing he wanted was for her to ask him what 
he was thinking. 
	She giggled a little and shook her head. "I told him that I didn't 
want to have to tell the squad room that my 'daddy' brought me home. 
He seemed okay with that. Though," she paused and leaned back onto 
the sofa to rest a little better, "I expect him here before the evening's 
over."
	"Oh," he replied. "I guess I'd better get everything else out of 
your car and up here then. Can't have your dad asking why your 
deadbeat friend didn't bring it all in now, can we?"
	They both smiled at the pun. Vachon wondered at the feeling 
the sight of her smile initiated in him. He turned to head back down to 
the car for the rest of her things.
	"Vachon?" Tracy called after him. He had had such a queer 
look on his face just now. He paused and turned back to her with an 
expectant look on his face. There was no trace of that queerness left.
	"Yeah?" he questioned.
	She didn't know exactly what to say. "Um ... thanks. I'm glad 
you brought me home this evening. Really." It was the only thing that 
she could think to say.
	He nodded to her. He was glad as well. Without another word 
he headed out the door to bring up the next load. Yes, he told himself, 
he wasn't sure what she was doing to him but whatever it was, it felt 
pretty good....

	Mary set the plate down in front of her friend. "Why don't you 
just tell him that?"
	Natalie looked down at the contents of her plate and then back 
up at her hostess. She had come to Dr. Mary's for dinner. Dr. Mary had 
invited her after Natalie had declined going out on rounds again today. 
She had been up all night and had needed to rest. Natalie found she was 
very tired; physically, mentally, emotionally.... 
	Mary sat down and picked up her fork to take a preliminary bite 
of her zucchini casserole. This was one of her better recipes and she 
missed fixing it. It tasted good. Chewing and swallowing, she glanced 
back up at her young friend. 
	Watching Dr. Mary sit down and taste her dinner, Natalie tried 
to think of what to say in answer to Dr. Mary's question. Why didn't 
she just tell Nick she was afraid? Why didn't she just tell him she didn't 
want to grow old alone? 
	Even as she asked herself these questions, Natalie already 
knew the answer. Nick already felt so much guilt. She feared that telling 
him would make him feel even more guilt and that the guilt would drive 
him away. More than anything, she wanted Nick in her life right now. 
	"I think you think too much," Dr. Mary was saying.
	Natalie looked into Dr. Mary's face. "What?" She couldn't keep 
the confusion out of her voice.
	Mary put down her fork and reached across the table to pat the 
top of Natalie's hand. "Natalie," she began, "you love Nick. That much 
is obvious. Does it really matter what might happen tomorrow?"
	She watched Natalie, trying to judge if she was hearing her. 
There was a look almost of hurt on her face. These were hard words to 
hear. When a heart is wrestling, it's very hard to just let go of the 
struggle and accept what today has to offer. 
	"You can worry about whether you and Nick will live the rest 
of your lives together for eternity and it wouldn't change what must be 
true for you right now, today. You love and need him. He probably 
loves and needs you as well. What happens in the rest of your lives 
together will depend on what you do today. 
	"There comes a time when you just have to accept what life 
gives you. Whatever you and Nick do have together or will have 
together will have to be enough. If there is real love between you, it will 
be."
	The words stung. Natalie could feel herself flush. The tone of 
Dr. Mary's voice had been nothing but soft and kind. She was being as 
gentle as she could be. And, of course, she was right. Worrying about 
whether Nick may or may not achieve his mortality or about how long 
he could realistically stay in her life, either way, was pointless. Natalie 
loved him, more than she could ever imagine loving anyone. Whatever 
they could have, now or at any time in the future, was better than the 
thought of a life without him. She really did need to accept that. Just 
accept it and move on to tomorrow. At least it would be a tomorrow 
surrounded by his love.

	Miranda punched in the security code and after the door 
released, entered the loft. All was dark and she couldn't sense any other 
being, immortal or otherwise. 
	She found that her heart was pounding. She swallowed and 
moved into the loft only after making sure the security system was 
reactivated just as Nick had told her to do. 
	She was late. Nick had instructed her to be at his loft before 
dark, but she had been so tired that when she had returned to her hotel 
room she had fallen right into her bed. The idea of leaving a wake up call 
hadn't even occurred to her. 
	When she did wake, the sun was setting. She had rushed 
around her room, throwing her belongings into her bag and had run out 
to head for Nick's loft. Nick felt that she would be much safer in at his 
place during the night.
	After dropping her bag on the sofa, Miranda headed into the 
kitchen to make some coffee. Nick had said he had to go deal with a few 
things when she had called him to tell him she was on her way. She 
would just have to wait for him and hope that she was a safe here as he 
thought she would be.

	Mary waited for Natalie to weigh her advice. Acceptance is the 
hardest thing to allow yourself when young, she thought. Especially 
when the issue was one of the heart. 
	"You're right," Natalie said quietly. "I think too much."
	Mary felt herself relax a little as a small smile spread across 
Natalie's face. Ah, she thought, acceptance....

All comments and virtual chocolate to
This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 14)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"Nicholas," he addressed his son. "What brings you to me this 
fine evening?"
	"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly, his face a stern 
mask.
	LaCroix rose from his chair behind the masterboard and turned 
his back on the question and the questioner. Of course, Nicholas would 
ask him. He had no better sense. 
	Nick watched as LaCroix moved to the equipment along the 
wall of the studio and began to program a transceiver to transmit 
broadcast feed. Damn LaCroix. He would tell him about the Restorers 
only if it was convenient. 
	If Miranda hadn't told him her story today, Nick wouldn't have 
found out about them until it was too late. He had wondered, he still 
wondered, if sending Miranda to him was Janette's way of warning him. 
Miranda had explained it....

	"I wasn't sure exactly what was happening to me. I was 
frightened and didn't know where to turn. That night, the night I fully 
reverted, I had a visitor. I recognized her immediately from the club. 
Janette was so much older than me that I was terrified of her. 
	"But, she turned out to be the best friend I could've wished for 
at that point. I thought I was dying or going crazy or something. All I 
knew  was that vampires weren't supposed to feel the way that I did. 
That night, Janette told me that I wasn't the only one who didn't want to 
be a killer anymore, that my feelings weren't unique. She told me what 
was happening to me."
	Nick had watched as tears began to fall onto Miranda's face.
	"She told me that I was becoming mortal again. She told me 
about you and about her ... about what happened." She paused to look 
at him before continuing. "She said that you were the only one who 
could protect me from the Restorers. Her position at the club would be 
jeopardized and she wouldn't be able to help others like me if I remained 
with her.
	"I didn't even know about the Restorers until Janette told me 
about them."
	Nick had listened in rapt attention to her story. Here was 
another testimony to the fact that becoming mortal again was possible. 
Maybe Nat could test her ... find out what had happened to allow her to 
come back across. Maybe, he had thought.... But, who the hell were 
these Restorers? Nick had never heard of them.
	"God, you DON'T know, do you?" Miranda said in response to 
his query about them. She shook her head in wonder. "Janette told me 
you might not know.
	"They're vampires who have pledged to kill all revenants, 
those of us who have come back across. They don't want other 
vampires to know it's possible to revert or for anyone who has reverted 
to live as a mortal. It's their way of keeping our kind ... pure. Purely 
killers, purely evil."	

	"Why didn't I tell you what?" LaCroix was asking, his 
annoyance evident.
	"Was this just another lesson you missed teaching me?" Nick 
asked his creator, the bitterness leaching through his attempts to 
control his anger.
	LaCroix closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning 
around to face his son. Nicholas was too angry to let this go. The 
obvious had completely escaped his son, again.
	"I left her alive, didn't I?" he told his son.
	Nick just stared at LaCroix. 
	"If I really didn't want you to know, I would have killed her."
	"Why didn't you tell me centuries ago?" This time he made no 
attempt to hide his anger. It didn't matter that LaCroix 'allowed' him to 
find out. "Why didn't you tell me yourself? Aren't you supposed to be 
my eternal teacher?" 
	He turned his head and closed his eyes at the rage he sensed 
in his son. Damn the impetuous boy. His lack of gratefulness was 
exasperating, at the very least. "I did tell you, my dear boy."
	"When?"
	At this last question, LaCroix met his son's challenging gaze. "I 
told you that there were others of our kind that wouldn't take your 
foolish efforts to become mortal again as calmly as I have. I DID try to 
warn you." He allowed his impatience with this line of questioning to 
filter into his face and voice. "You did not listen to me then, Nicholas. 
Why should I expend the effort to explain any further? Hmmm?"
	Nick remembered. The day he tried the litovuterine. His one 
day in the sun. LaCroix did tell him there were others of their kind that 
wouldn't like the idea of his becoming mortal again. 
	"Yes," he told the vampire, "but you neglected to teach me 
long ago. But then, you never intended for me to know, did you? You 
can't stand the idea that I don't want to be this anymore."
	"You are what you are, Nicholas. And what you are is mine!" 
LaCroix told his son, all patience with his impertinence gone.
	"No, LaCroix," Nick said, a calmness returning to his voice. He 
and LaCroix would never agree on this issue. His anger wouldn't change 
that. It hadn't in over seven hundred years. "I am not yours. Not 
anymore...."

	"Report," he ordered.
	This associate meant business. Not that HE didn't, but this one 
possessed a sense of superiority that angered him. What was he that he 
should give orders?
	Vincenti stared at the vampire that had made the contact with 
LaCroix. He could give him firsthand information. Retrieving information 
from the messenger had been a simple task, but this one's mind was 
much better guarded and killing him would not be as easy. This one had 
power. Vincenti decided that he would allow him to live if he would 
cooperate. Perhaps he would even prove helpful.
	"You did contact the vampire LaCroix," Vincenti remarked to 
the local associate, this time keeping his tone slightly more cordial.	
	"Yes," he told the foreign associate. Vincenti's tone was more 
appropriate, he noted. He would not be pushed around by someone 
with an inflated sense of self-importance.
	"Tell me about him."

	"I just wanted you to know that I'm grateful," Natalie told her 
as she gave her a hug.
	"I know you are," Mary told her friend. "I wish you all the 
best."
	Stepping back from Natalie, Mary looked her in the eye. "You 
have a happy life, Natalie. And," Mary smiled, "if the lights of that big 
city get too bright, you should consider moving here. I'm not getting 
any younger and this little corner of the world will need a good 
physician when I'm gone."
	Natalie smiled back. "You're not going to be leaving them for 
quite a while yet. Besides, I'm a pathologist, not a family practitioner."
	"You're a doctor, Natalie. You may need a refresher, but I'm 
sure you could be one hell of a generalist if you put your mind to it."
	The compliment made Natalie blush. She leaned in to give Dr. 
Mary one more quick hug before turning to go. If she packed and 
headed back now, she could be in Toronto in just over four hours.
	Being up at the cabin, talking to Dr. Mary and thinking about 
her own fears had helped Natalie to realize that what she really wanted 
was to be sure of her own heart. 
	And she knew, now. She wanted Nick and a life with him. She 
loved Nick more than life, more that her job or her losses, more than 
anything. Whatever God granted them, how ever long she might have 
him in her life, was a gift. She would accept it, gratefully.
	Natalie walked away from Dr. Mary and her quiet home in 
cottage country and headed back to the life she now knew she had to 
walk out, one day at a time. She was determined to find happiness in her 
today. And today, that happiness would be where Nick was. 
	She headed home....

All comments and virtual chocolate to
This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 15)
by Carrie Krumtum

	The illumination from the street lamps cast intermittent light on 
his stern face as he drove. The memory of his latest dream assaulted 
him....

~~~~~
	"Eric is dead as well," he was told. 
	The sweat rolled off his back as he stood up to his full height. 
He had been crouching in readiness for another attack. Gerald, Lord 
DeLabarre's warmaster, stepped away.
	"Did you hear me, Nicholas?" Lord DeLabarre asked him.
	"Yes, my Lord," he heard himself say, his arms exercises 
forgotten. His father and brother were dead. "How?"
	"An illness. That's all I know."	
	The sun seemed hotter now than it had a mere moment ago. 
Father, Eric.... He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and met 
the gaze of his lord evenly. "I must return home."
	Lord DeLabarre nodded. "I give you a fortnight. I will expect 
you back before the new moon."
	The allowance startled him. "Lord, you do not mean I am to 
return after I see to my mother and sister?"
	The look on his lord's face told him that he meant exactly that.
	"You have been contracted to me for services in payment for 
your training. I agreed with your father to allow my warmaster to train 
you in return for ten years of service. Have you not been trained well?"
	"Yes, my Lord. I have been trained very well. But...." he was 
interrupted.
	"Have I in any way fallen short of my promise to your father?"
	"No, my Lord. You have not. But, my mother and sister...."
	"Will be better served if you turned out to be a man of honor 
like your father and brother were. You near completion of your training 
and will be knighted by winter, Gerald tells me. Would you deprive me 
of the service you owe after being so well trained?"
	The hard look on his lord's face told him that nothing short of 
serving the full ten years would be acceptable. Ten years of service. His 
father would have expected him to honor this commitment. He would 
have to make sure there was adequate support for his mother and sister 
in his absence. There was no other way.
	"No, my Lord."
	"Good," Lord DeLabarre told him. "I am sorry for you loss, 
Nicholas. But such is life."
	As Lord DeLabarre turned and walked away from him, he felt 
Gerald's firm hand land on his shoulder.
	"You do your family honor, Nicholas," Gerald told him.
	Looking up into the face of the warmaster, he wondered just 
what honor being absent from them for ten years would give them. The 
sweat continued to run down his body as he stood in the relentless heat 
of a sun that seemed to disregard the loss he now felt.
~~~~~

	Nick had awakened to find himself drenched in sweat. When 
he looked at himself in the mirror, he was startled to note that the sweat 
was not blood red. He had wiped his brow and looked at his hand as if 
the image in the mirror was somehow lying to him. The dampness on his 
hand had been faintly tinged pink not the deep red that the his sweat 
usually appeared after such a dream. 
	Absent too, had been the ravenous appetite that had always 
accompanied such a sweat.
	Closing his eyes, he had tried to listen to his heart. All was 
silent. He felt the beast within him still and forced his fangs into place. 
When Nick had again looked at his image in the mirror, his eyes were a 
deep gold....
  
	The lights continued to stream past him as he drove through 
the night toward a life of imitation mortality. Despite what may have 
happened to Miranda and to Janette, HE was still a vampire.

	Nicholas had been gone only a few minutes when LaCroix 
sensed the arrival of another vampire in his studio. The tremor he 
sensed from this vampire was very different from what he had sensed 
from his son. 
	Turning, he came face to face with another Restorer.

	He watched her sleep. He had waited on the roof until her 
father had left and she had gone to bed. Now, he stood silently in her 
room and watched her sleep. 
	What was it about this one mortal that struck such a deep 
chord in him?
	Tracy had seen what he was. She had watched him kill Vudu. 
Although he could sense an initial fear in her, there was an acceptance 
of him as well. Tracy didn't cringe from him in fear. She was intrigued by 
him. She was also attracted to him. 
	There was a portion of her attraction, her expectation that their 
relationship would develop into something that it could never be, that 
drew him to her as well. He wasn't mortal anymore. He didn't look back 
on his mortality with regret either. Let Knight have that living hell. That 
was a road to nowhere paved with nothing but problems and pain.
	Vachon knew there were vampires who didn't want to be what 
they must be: killers, takers. Urs had taught him that. 
	He didn't think Tracy could become what he was without 
losing that part of her that made her special to those around her. He had 
thought about bringing her across, several times. Of course, Knight 
would probably kill him if he did. 
	No, it wasn't her potential that drew him to her. What was it? 
	She was attractive, sure. But so were thousands of women that 
he had taken over the centuries. He had fed on the beautiful and plain 
alike. He had always preferred the beautiful. Their blood was sweetest, it 
seemed to him. 
	He could smell Tracy's bloodscent. Apricots and callalily. He 
closed his eyes and remembered the first time he had made special note 
of the scent of her. She had tried to help him. 
	It didn't matter to her that he could harm her. All she 
understood was that he needed help and she had tried to help him. She 
cared for him. Selflessly.
	His kind were takers. Self-serving. There were few exceptions  
... like Knight. Still, even Knight had tasted the blood of countless 
mortals, taking life for his own uses. 
	Tracy was different from them. Perhaps it was the difference 
that he felt. Perhaps it was the difference that her mortality gave to her. 
Perhaps he had never really thought about the mortality of the women 
he had taken so callously before. Perhaps....
	He shook his head. You're thinking too much like Knight 
would, he told himself. 
	He was a vampire and Tracy was a mortal he had a 
responsibility to. There could be nothing more. 
	He watched her sleep and tried to ignore the longing that 
burned deep within him....

	She stared out at the night and the stars. Miranda took another 
sip of her coffee as she stood at the window. What could Nick do for 
her? How long could she expect him to help her?
	Janette had described him as a true knight. Somehow, Miranda 
had been surprised by this vampire. She could sense a longing in him 
that rivaled her own. A longing and a deep sadness. 
	He might just be a knight, she thought, but he is still on his 
own quest. He might not be able to leave the one quest for another. 
Maybe, she thought, he shouldn't even have to.

All comments and virtual chocolate to
This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 16)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"Vous etes LaCroix," Vincenti said, matter-of-factly. <You are 
LaCroix.>
	"Il semble que c'est le consensus, oui," came the reply. <That 
seems to be the general consensus, yes.>
	This vampire, LaCroix, met his gaze squarely, determined and 
bold. Vincenti nodded inwardly. Yes, a challenge truly worthy of him.
	"Je suis venu pour mettre en ordre ce qu'il faut." <I have come 
to set right what must be.>
	LaCroix made no effort to keep his amusement out of his voice. 
"Et dites-m qu'est-ce que c'est qui ne va pas avec moi?" <And what, 
pray tell, has gone wrong with me?>
	Vincenti could feel his anger flare at the tone of irreverence he 
heard. This LaCroix would soon learn his place. "Vous avez ramene un 
cherceur." <You have brought across a seeker.>
	There was no change in the look on LaCroix's face. He 
remained, for all the night, nonplused and amused. "Vous le savez?" 
<You know this?>
	"Un associe lui est assigne depuis longtemps." <There has 
been an associate assigned to him for some time.>
	This was news to LaCroix. So, Nicholas had managed to gain 
their attention. While it was true that Nicholas was a seeker, it was also 
true that LaCroix had no intention of allowing him the freedom to regain 
his mortality. Allowing his son the illusion of freedom had been the only 
way to deal with him for nearly a century now. LaCroix quieted the small 
voice that reminded him that the genuine closeness he had recently 
shared with his son had been surprising and that he found he liked this 
new twist to their relationship. He was the master and Nicholas would 
remain his ... forever. That was the eternal truth Nicholas had refused to 
see but must accept. And he would, eventually.
	"Vous ne le denier pas." Vincenti let his sense of power fill his 
voice. <You don't deny it.>
	"Je ne denie rien," LaCroix told his uninvited guest. <I deny 
nothing.>
	This Restorer was nothing like the last one who had appeared 
at the club unexpectedly. That one had only wanted to know if LaCroix 
had seen or heard of a new revenant in town and had prompted his little 
visit to his son's loft. At least the last Restorer was known among the 
community and had been in Toronto for quite some time. But this one ... 
this one had another agenda. The task before him was to uncover that 
agenda in time to save Nicholas from the fate planned for him. 
	"Je n'ai rien d'importance a vous dire, et sans doute vous 
n'avez rien d'importance a me dire que je voudrais savoir," LaCroix told 
the vampire. <I have nothing to tell you of any consequence and I dare 
say you have nothing to tell me that I wish to know.>
	The dismissive tone he heard infuriated Vincenti. He mentally 
shook himself. LaCroix was an ancient with a strong sense of power. If 
Vincenti was going to deal with him properly, he was going to have to 
control his temper. LaCroix would use any weakness against him if he 
allowed it. Vincenti began to smile as the realization flooded him. This 
was a strategic game that LaCroix played. This would be a test not of 
power but of wits.

	"She'll be back on light duty next week," Nick told him.
	Ed Rhoades sat across the desk from him and continued to 
stare at the desk blotter. Tracy was going to be fine and he was cleared 
by IA and the perp was in lock-up and everything was wonderful. So 
why did he feel like nine hundred pounds of incompetence on a stick? 
Maybe it was because Tracy had been the watch commander's partner 
before she was his, or maybe it was because she was the 
Commissioner's daughter, or maybe it was because Ed had been 
thinking about what the IA guy had said. He HAD let Tracy take off 
after the suspect and had remained behind to call it in. Nick wouldn't 
have, period. That's what Tracy had told him, complained about, 
actually. Nick was always there ahead of her, always protecting her, 
always taking the lead. Tracy had wanted to be trusted enough to be 
allowed the chance to go in first. And when Ed had done that, boom. 
One shot partner and enough guilt to fill Lake Ontario. Shit.
	Nick could tell that Ed wasn't dealing well with the whole 
situation. Guilt. That was what Ed felt and it was Nick's job as watch 
commander to help Ed get past it. So, he asked himself, how are you 
going to do that? Nick would laugh if he found the situation any less 
ironic. He understood why Rhoades felt like he did and what's more, he 
couldn't blame Ed a bit for anything he had done. Nick was sure Tracy 
hadn't said anything to Rhoades before taking off after the perp. She 
was out to prove just how reliable a cop she was. Capable of handling 
any situation. Capable of getting herself killed, he thought grimly. Ed 
bore no fault for that.
	"Look, Ed," Nick said, waiting for Rhoades' eyes to raise from 
the top of his desk and meet his own. "Tracy did what she felt she 
needed to. You and I both know she feels she's got something to prove. 
That's not your fault. Neither is the fact that the perp decided to take a 
shot at her. You followed procedure and you gave Tracy what she 
wanted, a chance to take the lead.
	"If you hadn't," Nick sat back in his chair, "maybe it would 
have turned out differently, maybe not. The thing is, you'll never know 
and kicking yourself about it isn't going to change a damn thing." So 
why don't you listen to your own advice? Nick told himself. Because, he 
answered quickly, you're a creature damned to an existence of your own 
making. Ed is a mortal man who has no choice but to live out his life as 
best he can. 

	The expanse of his loft gave her a feeling of solitude that 
encouraged thought. Miranda didn't want to think any more. She had 
done enough thinking; thinking about why she had ever allowed herself 
to get into this mess. 
	Anyone she had ever known or loved had been dead for nearly 
a century now. She had been brought across by accident. The vampire 
who had drained her had left just enough life in her to allow her to come 
across, but he had left her alone to try to find her own way in a dark 
world filled with death and killing and horror. 
	At first, Miranda had simply accepted the situation. She had 
become a vampire. She also wasn't dead. Both things seemed better 
than the alternative, real death. Then, as the nights of the need for 
blood drove her to kill and kill again, she had begun to think that what 
had happened to her was a true hell. Her need for the sensations and 
warmth of human blood both filled her with ecstasy and revulsion. 
Miranda had become a creature to revile, something she could only 
hate.
	As the decades passed and every aspect of her mortal life died 
or vanished with the passage of time, she began to search for a way out. 
For her, death had seemed preferable to the night. But the blood ... oh 
how the need for the blood ... the lust for the blood filled her with desire 
and longing. Even now she could taste the yearning on her lips, her 
tongue. Her mouth, even now, watered with the memory of the blood....
	Silent tears slid down her face as she realized anew that she 
had not escaped at all. Miranda had found a way back to her mortality 
but she hadn't escaped the need for the sensations taking life as a 
vampire had given her. She longed for them still, dreamed about them. 
Didn't she now wonder what taking his blood, this knight's blood, 
would taste like? Was he as beautiful to taste as he was to look at?
	And her need for a vampire to protect her ... what about that? 
She had escaped the night only to find the creatures of the night now 
hunted her. She was a rogue, a revenant. Not truly human again and no 
longer a vampire. The Restorers would not allow her to exist as a mortal 
and would give her a choice of death or the darkness once again. Could 
Nick Knight really protect her? What about the danger to him? 
	Miranda let herself cry as she stared out at the stars in the 
Toronto sky. She had been a taker for so long that she had simply 
stopped worrying about the consequences of her actions to anyone 
else. Just like the vampire who had brought her across had done. Just 
like Javier Vachon....

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This story is based on characters created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen for 
the TV series Forever Knight.

If Ever (Part 17)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Nick had sent Ed Rhoades home. The precinct was quiet 
tonight. No new homicides, burglaries, arsons, major assaults, 
robberies. It was as if the city were asleep. The word from Reese was no 
surgery and the bullpen was celebrating. Leaving word with the desk 
sergeant to page him if anything should happen that required his 
attention, Nick decided to go home. 
	He would make a brief stop at Tracy's to make sure everything 
was all right there and then try and decide what he should do about 
Miranda. If there were Restorers in Toronto, Nick would have to find 
them before they found her. What would he do then? Kill them? Would 
that really solve the problem?
	Nick climbed into the Caddy and closed the door. Placing the 
keys in the ignition, he turned the starter over and listened to the engine 
come to life. What kind of options did Miranda have? She would have 
to run the rest of her natural life if she expected to stay ahead of the 
Restorers. There were places on the earth that held few or no vampires 
... very few. None of them were hospitable, very little night and few 
human inhabitants. That was why they had no vampires. What kind of 
life would that be for her?
	Exactly who and how many Restorers there were was a mystery 
to him. What kind of organized effort existed among them? Did they 
network like the Enforcers did? Have informants? A central location and 
hierarchy? What?
	He put the car into gear, pulled away from the precinct and 
headed for the eastern edge of the city and Tracy Vetter's apartment. 
What was it that Janette thought he should do for Miranda? Was this 
the problem he would face if he attained his mortality? If ever?
	If ever.... If.... Nick pulled up and stopped at a red light on 
Queen, then looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He realized 
that he wasn't even giving himself the benefit of the doubt any more. 
These past few days had been weird, but the vampire was still there, still 
perfectly willing to kill. There was a pain in the pit of his stomach at the 
realization. What Miranda's story told him was that there are vampires 
who make it back across. What and how they did it seemed to differ. For 
Janette, it was the taking of Robert's blood in small increments and 
finally, the shock of losing Robert that brought her across. For Miranda, 
it seemed to happen over time, several months of feeling changes 
happen in her body. Miranda hadn't had the time to really explain 
everything she felt coming back across as she relayed her story to him. 
Maybe Nick should ask her to give him details. 
	No, he thought as he depressed the gas pedal and nudged the 
Caddy into the intersection after the light turned green. The person who 
should hear her story is Natalie. 
	That thought brought a new fear to his mind. What would Nat 
think about his efforts to help Miranda? What could she think? Would 
Nat even be back to become a part of his life again? What kind of a life 
did he have without her? Natalie....
	If ever he became mortal again.... If ever he could truly love her 
like she deserved.... If ever.... If.... 
	He drove.

	
	She drove. The lights of Toronto were in her view now. It 
wouldn't be long before she saw him again. Nick....
	Natalie picked up her cellular phone and dialed the precinct....

	"Eh bien." LaCroix confronted the vampire dismissively. "Vous 
avez envahi mon temps avec vos defis vides. Si vous avez un objet, 
dites-le moi. Sinon," he raised his glass and his eyebrows, "vous 
pouvez partir aussi librement et sans invitation que voue etes arrive." 
<Well. You have invaded my time with your empty challenges. If you 
have a purpose, tell me. If not, you may go as freely and uninvitedly as 
you arrived.>
	This meeting had not gone as Vincenti had envisioned that it 
would. LaCroix had seen to that. This ancient was beyond annoying. 
Vincenti toyed with the idea of simply killing him. LaCroix may indeed be 
powerful, but he couldn't be much of a match for Vincenti. After all, he 
lived and worked among mortals regularly. It had been Vincenti's 
experience that vampires who spent much time with humans were 
lessened by them. Weakened and numbed to their true natures. That is 
what forced him to become a Restorer in the first place. That and the 
revulsion he first felt when he met his first revenant and tasted his 
blood. 
	All attempts to ascertain the current situation with the 
ancient's son, de Brabant, or the revenant now in question, had been 
met with a blank look or a sneer, passivity or impertinence. Both 
angered him. Vincenti thought about his options ... beyond simply 
killing him. That would be too easy. What would make him happy, truly 
happy, would be to see this vampire suffer. 
	Perhaps killing de Brabant first would be better. LaCroix would 
be enraged, certainly, but he would also be more appreciative of his 
power and authority. To see that realization on the ancient's face, just 
before Vincenti killed him, would be very gratifying. He nodded.
	"J'ai bien compris ce que vous avez dit." Vincenti told the 
ancient as he turned to leave. "Quand on se rencont la prochaine fois, 
j'aurais plus que des defis vides, comme vous preferez leur nommer, 
pour vous offrir." <You make a point and it is well taken. When next we 
meet, I will have more than empty challenges, as you choose to call my 
inquiries, to offer you.>
	The look on the Restorer's face sent a chill through LaCroix. 
This battle of wits was at an end. What the Restorer had decided to do 
was unclear. LaCroix had gone to great lengths to tell the Restorer 
nothing of Nicholas or the revenant that sought shelter and protection 
from his son. What had become perfectly clear was that this Restorer 
had very little interest in the revenant at all. She was of secondary 
importance. Nicholas was another matter.
	Why Nicholas, though? He was not a revenant. What would 
the Restorer want with him now? And, why now? Why come to  the 
Raven and to him? There was something more here. Something with this 
particular Restorer. 
	A score to settle or a name to make, perhaps. LaCroix's eyes 
narrowed at the thought. Yes, he told himself. This was about power 
and notoriety. Restorers were, after all, worried about the purity of the 
community. LaCroix had always thought that their ranks were full of 
individuals who had something to prove to themselves. Why else be 
worried?
	"J'espere," he began as his guest had turned to leave, "j'espere 
vraiment que vous trouvez votre chemin." LaCroix paused and noted 
that his guest had stopped ... cold. "Quoi que ce soit que vois 
chercher," he continued, aware of the rise in tension in the room, "Je 
vous souhais le succes. Il serait dommage si un autre de notre sorte a 
perdu son chemin. Je devrais rectifier la situation, en permanence. Je 
deteste l'idee de cette tache." <I hope, truly hope, that you find your 
way. Whatever it is that you seek, I wish you success. It would be a 
shame if another of our kind lost their way. I would have to rectify the 
situation, permanently. I do so hate the thought of the task.>
	His voice had not yet died in the room when the Restorer took 
to the air and was gone. He had hit the mark, or so close to the mark that 
the difference in degree was too small to argue. There was one way to 
be sure that he understood the game. He would do a little cajoling 
himself....

	What was she doing there? Miranda now realized that by 
asking for Nick's help she was only doing what she had tried to escape 
by regaining her mortality. She was using another life for her own 
needs. Nick had a life of his own. By asking for his help she was placing 
his own struggle to regain his mortality in jeopardy. Once the Restorers 
found him, he would never be free. What's more, they would most likely 
kill him for helping her. 
	Janette would have known that. So why send her to him? 
Janette had told Miranda the story of her own brush with mortality and 
Nick's desperate choice to bring her back across. There had been regret 
in Janette's voice when she spoke of that night. Regret but not anger or 
bitterness. At least, none that Miranda could see or hear. It had seemed 
to her that Janette had feelings for Nick. Perhaps she even loved him. 
He was her master, after all, so there was a bond between them.
	She remembered what Janette had said about Nick not knowing 
about the Restorers. That had turned out to be true. Did Janette send 
Miranda to him to warn him then? To tell him what he faced if he 
continued his own quest for mortality? Was she simply a messenger? 
Or was Janette just not thinking when she sent Miranda to this knight. 
She sighed.
	What difference did it make why she was there? How she got 
there? The reality was that now that she was here she wondered if she 
had done the right thing by coming. She had been so frightened by the 
threat of the Restorers that she hadn't even stopped to think about the 
ramifications of her arrival and request on Nick. 
	One thing was sure, whatever happened would place him in 
some kind of danger. Now that Miranda had time to really think about 
that, she wasn't sure she liked the way that made her feel. She had no 
right to ask Nick, or any one else for that matter, to help her.
	Grabbing her bag, Miranda looked around the great room of 
the loft. "Thanks," she told the empty room, "but I don't want to be a 
user anymore." With that, she turned and left the loft, heading into the 
night to face whatever might await her in the