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 darkness ... alone.

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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 18)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"I'm sorry, Dr. Lambert. Nick's not in right now. I can page him 
for you if you'd like, though," the desk sergeant told her. 
	"No," Natalie told him over her cellular phone, "that won't be 
necessary. Thanks anyway."
	"I'll leave a message that you called, okay?"
	"Yeah, sure. That'd be fine. Good night."
	"And a good night to you too, ma'am."
	She hung up. So, where was he? It was dark and Nick could be 
anywhere in the city. There was one place she knew he would be come 
dawn. Natalie decided to head for his loft.

	He pulled up behind the apartment building that housed 
Tracy's apartment. The window of her bedroom was seven stories up on 
this side of the building. The light was on. Nick thought about knocking 
on her door before discarding the idea. If she was asleep, he didn't want 
to wake her. All he really wanted to do was make sure she was okay 
before heading home. Getting out of the Caddy he looked up at the 
window and willed himself to move to it....
	The sky above him began to whirl and he fell forward against 
the hood of the Caddy.
	Vachon sensed Knight's arrival from the roof and looked down 
at the parking lot behind Tracy's building just in time to see the vampire 
lean onto the vehicle. Something was wrong. He flew toward Knight.
	The world seemed to blank out and then back in on him. Before 
he could get his bearings again, Nick felt the arrival of another. Looking 
up, he saw the face of Vachon staring at him from the other side of the 
Caddy. He shook his head to clear it from the haze that seemed to 
envelope him.
	"Are you okay, Knight?" Vachon asked as he watched Knight 
shake his head.
	"I don't know," Nick answered, fear taking hold of him as he 
realized that, though he could sense Vachon's presence, he couldn't 
sense much else around him. It was like he had suddenly been placed in 
a small box. He swallowed and pushed himself upright. He placed both 
palms flat on the hood of the Caddy until he was sure his legs would 
support his weight. 
	"Like hell," Vachon told the older vampire. He had seen some 
weird stuff with this vampire, but he had never seen a vampire so weak 
before, not unless they were about to bite the big one or hadn't fed in a 
very long time. Knight had fed, Vachon could smell the blood in him. 
Whatever was happening to Knight, it wasn't death. If anything, it was 
life. His heart had beat four times since Vachon had reached the ground. 
Far too fast for a vampire....
	Nick couldn't get his body to respond like he demanded it to. 
What the hell was wrong with him? His legs felt leaden and he was 
having a hard time breathing now. He had to sit down. Walking hand 
over hand along the driver's side door of the car, he groped toward the 
handle that would open the door. Before he could open the door for 
himself, Vachon was there. 
	Vachon paused with his hand on the handle and looked into 
Knight's face. 
	Nick looked up at the younger vampire. Vachon's face held an 
odd mixture of realization and awe. "I don't know," he again told 
Vachon.
	"You're reverting," Vachon said. His voice was so filled with 
conviction that it surprised him.
	"What?" Nick asked, feeling a little stronger as he spoke. 
Whatever had caused his dizziness was rapidly disappearing. He wasn't 
sure he had heard Vachon right. Something about reverting.
	"You're reverting, Knight. Your heart ... it's beating."	
	Nick froze. He listened. There. His heart beat, he was sure he 
felt it. And there, again. And ... again.... It was slow, too slow to be 
human, but it was much too fast for a vampire as well. He stared up into 
Vachon's face. "Oh, God...."

	He was apprised of the arrival of the ancient by the flow of air 
past him before he could sense him. Turning, he came face to face with 
an angry vampire.
	"Why have you sent another of your kind to me," LaCroix 
demanded of the Restorer.
	Damn, he thought. His associate had gone straight to the 
Raven after leaving here and had used as little tact with this vampire as 
he had used with him. Vincenti was as big a fool as he was an 
egomaniac. 
	LaCroix's patience had been worn past thin long ago. He had 
the vampire around the throat at the merest hint of hesitation and 
backed him up to the wall. "I will not ask you again."

	Vincenti arrived at the home of de Brabant and entered the loft 
from the open skylight in the roof. He could sense the vampiric nature 
of the main occupant immediately. The smell of animal blood was heavy. 
Animal, not human. The odor nauseated him.
	This de Brabant had become a legend in the local community. 
Not only was he an offspring of LaCroix, but he was powerful in his own 
right. As many vampires feared him as laughed at his quest for 
mortality. The local associate here in Toronto had told him as much. So, 
Vincenti told himself, you will have to teach him his place. Teach him 
well and then ... then he would kill him.
	The emptiness of the loft sent Vincenti on. He would find this 
de Brabant in his world of play among mortals. He headed towards the 
police precinct.

	"How long?" LaCroix asked. He kept his grip on the throat of 
the Restorer tight. The last time he had encountered this particular 
vampire, he had threatened to kill a mortal in the Raven. That had been a 
mistake that LaCroix would not soon forgive. The very fact that two 
Restorers had suddenly decided to complicate his life and his 
relationship with Nicholas was something he was not going to tolerate.
	"I have been assigned to him for three years," he told the 
ancient. He was uncomfortable. When he had gone to the Raven to 
confront LaCroix as instructed, he had sensed a good deal of power in 
the ancient vampire. Now, too late, he realized that he had sensed the 
barest of this vampire's power. LaCroix was not only capable of killing 
him, but he could do so easily. The thought frightened him. 
	"Why have you been sent to me?"
	"I don't know," he answered honestly. He wasn't told why 
LaCroix was to be involved in the restoration of the most recent 
revenant. If he had had his way, LaCroix would have been left out of it 
until de Brabant had become a real issue. Even then, he would have 
taken care of the situation without contacting the ancient if he could 
have done so. The decision to contact LaCroix had come from Vargo. He 
had supposed that Vargo had his reasons. 
	LaCroix knew he was telling the truth. "Who?" he demanded, 
his tone darkening as he lost all that remained of his patience.
	"Vargo," he said as he realized his peril. The ancient's anger 
burned hot and he held very little chance of surviving if he angered 
LaCroix any further. That was the last thought he was allowed before he 
felt the grip on his neck tighten enough to snap the bones. The night 
flooded with blackness as the wood of a stake was forced into his flesh 
and he heard the unmistakable sound of his neck being snapped....

	Vachon arrived at the Raven only to be told that LaCroix was 
not there. He was almost relieved to discover LaCroix's absence. He 
hadn't been sure that telling the ancient was the right thing to do in the 
first place. The decision was moot, for the moment.
	After their encounter outside Tracy's apartment, Knight had 
taken off in his Caddy. His departure was fast and he had left without 
another word. Vachon had never met a revenant before. He had never 
met anyone even remotely like Knight before. Sure, he had heard of 
other vampires who had reverted, but they had always been dealt with 
by Restorers swiftly. Vachon shuddered. Knight was in for a real rough 
ride. He would be a vampire again soon or else he would be dead.... 

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 19)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Sliding the elevator door open, he pushed into his loft and 
reached for the banister that edged the doorway entrance to the main 
floor. "Miranda? MIRANDA?" 
	Silence met him. He couldn't hear anything, sense anything. He 
couldn't trust his own senses anymore. "MIRANDA!?!" 
	He was weak and needed to feed. Pulling back from the 
banister, he headed for the refrigerator. The bottle of blood he reached 
for seemed heavy. It took nearly all his strength to pull the cork from the 
neck of the bottle. Once the cork was removed the smell of the bottle's 
contents assaulted his nostrils. It sickened him. Ignoring the stench, he 
put the bottle to his lips and upended it. After only a single swallow he 
spit out the contents of his mouth and dropped the bottle, listening as 
the glass shattered against the concrete flooring at his feet. 
	The nausea overpowered him and he ran towards the bathroom 
that lay at the other end of the main floor. He barely made his way to the 
commode before losing all control and vomiting into the bowl. Old 
clotted blood and dark green stomach fluid poured from him, all tinged 
with the red of the small amount of blood he had just swallowed. 
	His face felt flushed and his arms shook as he held his body 
above the commode and heaved the air in and out of his lungs. Closing 
his eyes, he leaned his head over onto his right shoulder and tried to 
force the room to stop spinning. As the moments passed, his breathing 
slowed and he felt some strength return. He moved to lean on the sink 
and, reaching for a towel, he turned on the water to wash his face and 
hands. The cool water refreshed him but it also chilled him. 

	She rounded the corner on Gateway Lane and pulled up to the 
back door entry of the loft. Natalie could see a dim light in the window 
on the second floor and her heart began to pound. The light didn't 
necessarily mean anything, she told herself. When she had called him 
earlier she had gotten his recorder. 
	Natalie opted for just showing up at the loft without leaving a 
message. She didn't want the first contact they had on her return to 
town to be so impersonal.
	She opened the door of her car and got out. If Nick wasn't 
home, she would just wait for him, that was all. 

	He looked at his reflection in the mirror and ran his right hand 
through his hair. He was reverting. That's what Vachon had told him.
	His hand was still shaking and he looked at it as if it were 
betraying him. He closed his hand and his eyes tightly. If he was 
reverting, he would live through it. He prayed he would live through it. 
This was what he wanted, had prayed for. But ... could he be sure? 
Natalie would be able to tell him. Natalie, he thought, Natalie ... Nat ... I 
need you....

	She stepped through the door of the loft and noticed the light 
from the open refrigerator door immediately. She slowed her steps and 
came to a halt at the foot of the entry stairs. There was a broken bottle 
of blood on the kitchen floor in front of the counter. The pounding of 
her heart picked up pace as she felt the fear steal over her. "Nick?"
	
	He heard her voice calling to him from the other room. He froze 
for an instant. There was no sound of a heartbeat as he listened, no 
sense of another being at all. All was silent as the grave as he hesitated.

	Looking around the room, Natalie saw that the door to the 
bathroom was ajar. "Nick?" she called again, this time taking a short 
step that carried her further into the loft.
	
	The sound of her voice called to him again. It was Nat, he was 
sure of it. Turning from his reflection, he stepped back and headed into 
the living room of his loft, into the room where he would find her....

	She froze again the instant she saw him. Something was wrong. 
Something was very wrong. He looked scared. He looked ... different. He 
looked scared and different and ... beautiful. 
	"Nick?" she asked again, this time quietly, cautiously, trying to 
find her way to him across an ocean of emotion and need that filled the 
room around them.
	He swallowed at the bitter dryness in his throat. She was 
standing right in front of him, like a dream. He wasn't even sure she was 
real. The customary sound of her heartbeat was absent now. His need 
for her had been so enormous that his battered senses may have 
conjured this image for him. 
	"Nat?" his tired voice called. He hadn't even been sure he 
could find his voice. "Natalie?"
	She began to move toward him at the sound of his voice. That 
voice ... so filled with pain and need and love. She felt the tears strain to 
be released from her eyes and moved faster and faster until she realized 
that she was practically running towards him.
	As she neared him he held his arms out to pull her to him. If 
this was a dream then he would gladly die here. The warmth of her body 
next to him, the smell of her hair against his nostrils, the sound of her 
quiet tears, the strength of her arms around his neck ... all testified to her 
reality. He found he was crying for joy.
	"Nat. Natalie...." he whispered into the soft tresses of her 
chestnut hair. 
	
	He listened to the tremor from his son as he flew. The 
impossible had happened. Damn the Restorers. Damn them all! They 
had kept him so preoccupied that the very thing he had worked so hard 
to prevent had occurred right under his nose. It didn't matter that he had 
already left one of them dead and smoldering. They would all pay for 
this intrusion!
	LaCroix hoped he wasn't too late to prevent a full reversion. If 
he could get to Nicholas soon, he could set things to rights before he 
would be forced to kill him....

	Nick tightened his embrace around the woman he loved and 
closed his eyes as he wept. Natalie had returned to him and he was 
holding her in his arms. He couldn't sense the racing of her heart. He 
couldn't hear the pounding of the familiar heartbeat. He couldn't smell 
the scent of her blood. 
	None of that mattered. She was there, in his arms, right now. 
He was human again and he held the one human being he loved above 
all others.
	She had turned her head to lay it against his chest. As her 
tears finally began to quiet and the rage of her emotions calmed, she 
heard the unmistakable sound of a beating heart. Natalie froze in 
concentration as she listened to that sound. 
	After another dozen beats or so, she pulled away from him, her 
face filled with amazement. "Nick!" she told him as she raised a hand to 
touch the warm flesh of his face. "Your heart ... it's beating!"
	He nodded and smiled weakly, tears of joy still issuing from his 
eyes. "I'm ...
	"You're ...
	"... mortal." They finished, simultaneously. 

	"Indeed...."

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 20)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Shadows filled with arcane threats and twisted images of 
vampires and death seemed to follow her as she moved along the 
sidewalk. Miranda was heading back to her hotel room. She didn't really 
know where else to go. After trying, unsuccessfully, to hail a cab, she 
opted for the old reliable method of locomotion and began to walk.
	At first, she let her guilty energy carry her along. Now, as the 
darkness threatened her with half realized terrors, she found her fear 
pushed her toward her goal. The walls of her hotel room would afford 
her some safety. It may be false safety, she told herself, but some sense 
of comfort was better than none at all. 

	Vachon finished his drink, placed both hands flat on the bar, 
and pushed himself up from the stool. He sighed heavily as he rose. 
There really wasn't a choice. Not really, he thought. He had left Tracy 
Vetter sleeping safely in her mortal bed when he had flown off to try and 
inform LaCroix that Knight was reverting. 
	The more he had thought about what he should do the more he 
realized that he had to go find Knight. The thing was, he didn't want to 
find Knight. He didn't want to get involved in any of this. It seemed, 
however, that what he wanted was of very little importance to him now. 
	Odd. Who would have ever thought of Javier Vachon as some 
kind of vampiric social worker? The concept would have made him 
laugh if not for the score he had to settle. Vachon owed Knight. It was 
Knight who had brought the antidote to him, Knight who had followed 
Urs and made sure she was okay when Jacqueline died, Knight who had 
confronted the Inca and allowed him a chance to fulfill their duty before 
whatever gods the Inca served. Knight had brought the lady doctor to 
Screed. Knight had been Knight. Consistently, irritatingly Knight. Damn 
him, anyway.
	Sighing again, he decided the best thing to do would be to find 
out if Knight needed help now. Some vampires don't survive the 
reversion process or so he had heard. If Knight needed help, perhaps 
Vachon could get him to that lady doctor friend of his. If he did that he 
would be settling an old debt. 
	Besides, he told himself as he headed out of the Raven and 
into the night air of the city, Knight was still a big part of Tracy's life. 
She still might need him....

	"...but I'm not allowed to give anyone access to his office when 
he's not here," the desk sergeant told him.
	He fixed the constable with a firm stare and allowed the mortal's 
heartbeat to become a part of his own thoughts....
	"I'm not just anyone. I'm the captain. I can come and go as I 
please."
	"Yeah ... yeah ... sure. I mean, yes sir, Captain Reese. I'm sorry, 
sir." How could you be so stupid, Olston said to himself. You'll never 
get that promotion if you look this stupid right in front of the captain. 
Idiot!
	"Thank you, Sergeant," Vincenti intoned. "I do wish you'd 
remember that." He smiled wryly as he walked past the constable and 
entered the watch commander's office. He very quietly closed the 
door....

	He neared Knight's neighborhood when he felt the presence of 
another vampire near him. He expected to find one of their kind, perhaps 
even LaCroix or a Restorer, close or in Knight's loft, but not out here. 
Vachon decide to take a look see....

	The phone memo said, "Dr. Natalie Lambert called." The 
bottom of the little form didn't contain a phone number. He nodded to 
himself. He would ask one more question of the good sergeant and be 
one step closer to his goal.

	The hair on the back of her neck began to prickle. Miranda 
froze mid-stride. She tried to concentrate. She found she couldn't, not 
well. Her heart was racing and she was holding her breath. There was a 
vampire near. VERY near. 
	Calm down, she told herself. You can't deal with this scared to 
death.... That was it, she thought darkly, you're about to be scared to 
death.

	He stood on the roof and stared down at her. There was 
something very familiar about her. He could sense her like a vampire but  
... she was mortal. The sound of her pounding heartbeat was clear as 
crystal. She was frightened. He could smell her fear and ... her blood. He 
remembered the smell of her blood. He knew the taste of it....

	Where was he? Concentrate! She swallowed down her terror 
and closed her eyes, shutting out the tricks of light and shadow that 
assaulted her tired mind. Whoever it was hadn't come any closer since 
she first felt them. She could locate the vampire if she could just 
concentrate.	
	Trying to remember the skill that the darkness had given her, 
she slowly closed out the rest of the world, including her own fear, and 
followed the tremor she felt tingling at the back of her mind. She 
followed it, allowing her inner senses to sweep the vicinity around her ... 
she followed it ... there! She turned to her left and looked up to the roof 
of the building just over her shoulder.

	He knew this mortal. But she was a taste from long ago. Over a 
century ago. That can't be possible, he reasoned as he continued to 
stare down at her motionless form. Then, all at once, her name came 
back to him. He watched as she whirled to stare up at his location. She 
had found him and her name was Miranda....

	Miranda met the eyes of the vampire who had damned her to 
this hell. Staring up, she looked squarely into the face of Javier 
Vachon....

	This apartment was dark as well. There was a warmth about it, 
he thought, a woman's touch. Dr. Lambert was a medical doctor. She 
must know what Knight is and must have been recruited to help him in 
the reversion process. 
	His smile took on a sinister edge as his thoughts darkened. 
Vincenti had never thought of himself as an Enforcer before. Their ranks 
were filled with vampires who had too many scruples for his liking. Still, 
it wouldn't hurt to perform the office of an Enforcer this night. Fodder 
for the fields of war at some later date. This too could be used for his 
purposes.
	He walked through every room and noted little details. The 
groceries in the refrigerator were nearing or past the spoilage dates. Her 
closet had many empty hangers but her laundry hamper was empty 
except for a single towel. Her mail was neatly stacked on the entry table, 
unopened. There was a pet bowl and bed but no pet present. 
	Dr. Lambert was gone from her home and had intended to be 
gone for quite some time. If she had called Knight to tell him she was 
coming back into town she hadn't yet made it home. Now, he asked 
himself smugly, where would I go if I wanted to contact Knight right 
away?
	He would head back to the warehouse loft that served as 
Knight's living quarters. He may not have been home earlier, but unless 
Vincenti missed his guess, he would be there soon. And, so would the 
doctor. 

	As she stared, he disappeared only to reappear, as if by magic, 
directly in front of her. His face was young and handsome. His hair was 
long and beautiful. The moonlight danced in the darkness of his eyes. 
Vachon remained a gorgeous and inviting figure. 
	And deadly, she warned herself. This time, she wouldn't be 
mesmerized by his charms. This time, he would have to kill her outright. 
She almost smiled as she realized that she took the fact of her death, this 
time, at Vachon's hands for granted. At least he wasn't a Restorer....

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 21)
by Carrie Krumtum

	He stood staring at them. The tremor of their bonding 
connection remained, but only very faintly. And, there was the distinct 
sound of two very mortal heartbeats in the room. One was the good 
doctor's and the other ... the other belonged to his son. 
	Nicholas had reverted.
	"LaCroix...." Nick said as he turned from the warm glow of 
Natalie's face to confront the vampire who was once his master/creator. 
He and Natalie had had only the barest of seconds to share the 
knowledge of their success.	
	Natalie stepped between them instantly. "LaCroix, get out of 
here!" she commanded.
	LaCroix allowed nothing but a look of dispassion to show. "I 
will be where I wish, Doctor. You would do well to remember what I am."
	"I know exactly what you are...." she began angrily. She got no 
farther.
	The dark tone of his creator's voice brought Nick forward. He 
pulled Nat behind him and turned to confront the threat that LaCroix 
posed. LaCroix would be angry at his reversion. Angry and dangerous, 
to both of them. He had to protect Natalie. 
	"You know what's happened," Nick said as he held Natalie 
slightly behind him. It wasn't a question. Of course LaCroix would know. 
Nick could still feel the tremor of his centuries old link with LaCroix. 
Their bond had not been severed. Not yet. What he felt from his creator 
was displeasure and bitterness. 
	When Nick spoke again, his voice was calmed by his resolve 
and his fatigue. "That's why you're here."
	Natalie tried to decide what to do. She couldn't let LaCroix hurt 
Nick. For all she knew, he would try to bring Nick back across. She 
couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let that happen! The sound of 
Nick's voice told her how tired he was. The reversion process, whatever 
the hell HAD happened to his metabolism that had allowed him to come 
back across, was taking a toll on Nick. He wasn't in any condition to try 
to fight off anyone, much less an ancient vampire with a possessive 
streak. 
	Her thoughts were again interrupted. LaCroix was speaking.
	"I have come, my petulant child, to claim what is mine!"

	"Miranda?" he heard himself ask as he approached her slowly. 
The sight of her so near and the smell of her blood brought all the 
memories back to him. The club in Paris, the night of stalking, her 
beauty, his choice, her blood.... He had left her lifeless body in the hotel 
room. Or, so he thought. The memory of her body laid on the bed reeled 
in his mind. She had been so incredibly beautiful. She had been 
beautiful ... and dead. At least, Vachon thought she was dead. He didn't 
break her neck. He couldn't bring himself to. It would have spoiled the 
sight of her....
	As he neared her, the only emotion that she could feel was 
rage. That smooth voice, edged with confusion, filled her with an anger 
she had thought all but replaced by her fear. Now, the fear was gone. 
	He took one more step towards her, enchanted by her 
presence. He had barely stopped his advance when he felt the sharp 
sting of her hand against the side of his face.
	Miranda slapped him for all she was worth.

	Nick stared back into the face of his centuries old master and 
felt a quiet come over him. In that moment, time seemed to stand still.... 
	He had achieved his dream, the one desire that had dominated 
this lifetime. There was now the promise of a life with Nat; a life of love 
and commitment and happiness. There was the promise of the daylight, 
of growing old with her, of dying the death of the just, of redemption for 
his once damned soul. All of that would be taken from him ... in an 
instant. The promise of love that Natalie offered would be taken from 
them both. He knew what LaCroix would do. He also knew what he must 
do. He couldn't step back into the darkness again. He didn't want that 
for Natalie. She deserved so much more, a life filled with so much more. 
	He loved her. God in heaven, how he loved her. He wouldn't 
step back into the darkness again. This time, he would step into the 
light.... 
	The feelings of sorrow and loss brought fresh tears to his 
eyes. After struggling for so long to become mortal again, to regain his 
humanity, Nick now realized that he would have no chance to live this 
newfound happiness or joy. Whether by LaCroix or Restorer, his life 
would be stripped from him ... again. 
	Silence fell over the room. LaCroix wanted Nick back. Well, he 
wasn't going to get Nick back. Not if she had anything to say about it. 
Natalie was about to shout NO at LaCroix when she heard Nick speak.
	"No," he said quietly. He let the tears fall on his face as he met 
LaCroix's gaze. If he was going to die, he would at least die free. "I'm 
not. I'm not yours anymore. I won't come back to you, LaCroix." Nick 
shook his head. "You know I won't."
	His son's voice had become a mere whisper. The mortal 
Nicholas loved stood behind him ready to give her life to protect him. 
They stood before him in absolute conviction and he listened to the 
words Nicholas spoke. He heard nothing but the truth in them. Nicholas 
would step into the light ... as a mortal and, in his mind and heart, 
redeemed.
	
	"You bastard," she said evenly. 
	Vachon found himself rubbing the side of his face and stepped 
back a pace. Miranda may be a mortal, but she packed one hell of a 
wallop. The thought of her being a mortal and being alive, now, right in 
front of him struck him. Even if she had lived through his feeding, she 
should have died ... more than a hundred years ago. 
	Miranda watched the surprise at her blow drain from Vachon's 
face and be replaced by a look of confusion. It was just now dawning 
on him that she was still alive. 
	It was his confusion that impacted her. She had known who 
had brought her across because she had found another vampire whom 
she could sense more closely than others of their kind. Bourbon had 
explained to her why she felt a kindred with him and who had brought 
her across. They had even shared time together. Over thirty years. 
Vachon had left Paris for the States and the nightlife of New Orleans, 
Bourbon had said. 
	Miranda had been so angry that Vachon would leave her for 
dead, she didn't want to have anything to do with him. By the time she 
found out who her master was, she had learned what she needed to 
know to survive. Paris was her home, she wasn't about to chase him 
across an ocean. Even when Bourbon was killed and she was again 
alone, she couldn't bring herself to leave her beloved Paris. 
	After a time, the anger had faded. There were others who had 
drifted in and out of her life. Always, she kept a silent tendril of vampiric 
awareness searching for Vachon's return. He didn't return. For whatever 
reason, he never came back to Paris. Miranda had wondered if he had 
ever heard about her coming across or if he remembered her only as a 
simple meal. She now knew that he hadn't known she had been brought 
across. What's more, he wasn't sure how she could be mortal now, over 
a century later. She felt a certain satisfaction at his confusion.

	Vincenti stood in silent rage and clenched his fists. Damn 
LaCroix!!
	On the floor before him was a pile of ashes that had once been 
the Restorer assigned to watch Knight. Vincenti had returned to the 
associate's apartment to get him. He had thought that having the 
Restorer along to watch out for LaCroix while he dealt with Knight and 
his doctor friend would be helpful. His plans were now changed. The 
fool, LaCroix. 
	Vincenti shot into the night sky again. LaCroix would pay for 
his insolence! He would pay with his very existence!

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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 22)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"No!" Natalie shouted and moved to face Nick. "Nick, no! You 
can't!"
	She felt her panic rise. Nick understood that LaCroix was 
threatening to bring him back across. He said he wouldn't come back. 
When Nick had explained the process of being brought across to her he 
had said that he was offered a choice. That time, Nick had chosen to 
return as a vampire. This time, he wouldn't come back. He wouldn't come 
back to a life of darkness. He wouldn't come back to her.
	"I won't let him hurt you," she told the man she loved more 
than life. She couldn't lose Nick, not now, not after all they'd been 
through ... she had been through. Natalie had lost enough already. No 
more, her heart demanded. NO MORE!!
	Nick looked away from LaCroix and took Natalie by the 
shoulders. "Nat."
	"No! I won't let you leave me," she told him through her tears. 
She tried to turn away from Nick and move toward the vampire. She'd kill 
LaCroix with her bare hands to prevent him from taking Nick away from 
her now. She'd kill him or die in the attempt.
	Natalie tried to pull away from him. He tightened his grip on 
her. "Natalie! Nat! Look at me!"
	She stopped and stared back at him. All her self-control was 
gone. She was crying. She didn't care. "Nick, I...."
	He silenced her with a gentle kiss on the lips. Nick kept tabs on 
LaCroix through his link, still resonating with the emotions he felt from 
his vampiric father. LaCroix was still angered, but there was something 
else.... He couldn't think about that now. Right now he had to take care 
of Natalie. She had to be made to understand. 
	Nat looked into his face as he pulled away from her. His tears 
were clear and they dampened his warm face. He felt the loss as well. 
Deeply. 
	Why? she asked God silently. Why bring Nick back across to 
her just to let him be taken away? Why!?!
	"Natalie," he began, his voice quiet and heavy with his 
emotion. "I love you. More than anything. I love you. You know that." 
He reached up to touch her face and brush away one of her tears with 
his thumb. "I want to be with you, to live with you, to love you ... like 
this. As a mortal man."
	"Nick...." she whispered.
	He placed a finger to her lips, quieting her again. There was 
love so deep in his eyes that she felt as if she would drown in them. She 
wanted to drown in that love.
	Nick felt another tremor along the link with LaCroix. He resisted 
the urge to look over at the vampire. The true center of his universe 
stood before him. Natalie ... he tried to decide what to say to her. He had 
to make her understand.
	"I have a choice now, Nat. A choice you gave me. You did this. 
Don't you see? You've given me back my soul." He swallowed against 
his emotion as new tears slid down his face to fall on he floor between 
them.
	
	He swallowed against his emotion as he watched the scene 
before him. Perhaps she had. Perhaps this mortal woman had given his 
son back his soul ... a soul he could take from Nicholas again....

	Nick caressed her hair and followed the movement with his 
eyes. When he looked back into Nat's face, the grief he saw there tore at 
his heart. This was the gift regaining his humanity had given him. 
Natalie's love was the one thing LaCroix could never take away.
	"I won't let anyone take that away from me again. It's too 
precious a gift," he whispered to her. "I will always love you, Natalie 
Lambert, for giving it back to me. For everything."
	She fell into his arms and he closed his eyes as he held her. 
When he opened them again, still holding Natalie in his embrace, he 
looked toward LaCroix. What he saw surprised him.

	Vachon looked back into Miranda's face. "So," he began, still 
rubbing his face where she had slapped him, "does that make us even?"
	She shook her head. "Damn you, Javier Vachon. Have you got 
any idea what you did to me?"
	He listened to the strains of her heartbeat again and had to 
admit to himself that he didn't. "Actually, no," he told her, honestly.
	If she had expected flippancy, she was disappointed. He really 
didn't know. His confusion was evidence of that. So, she asked herself, 
what do you tell him?
	As she hesitated, Vachon wondered just what was going on. 
"Are you going to tell me?" he asked.
	Huh! Miranda's anger flared anew. He was asking her if she 
was going to explain things to him?! Shouldn't he be doing some 
explaining? How about making him do some explaining first. He might 
just kill her, she thought. So be it. Let him rot then. She would have her 
answers before she told him a damn thing. Either that, or....
	"Are you going to kill me again?" she decided to ask.

	It was a small thing. The barest loss of control. His emotions 
had welled up so quickly that they overmastered him for the briefest of 
moments. And in that short time, a tear slid down his face. Blood red. Its 
movement languid. There was no other betrayal of his emotion. Just that 
single tear. 
	As LaCroix saw it, he had two choices. Nicholas would not 
come back across, of that he was now certain. He either had to kill 
Nicholas, or leave him be. 
	When he had arrived, he had been resolved to the former. At 
least, that was the lie he had told himself. Of course, it had been a lie. As 
he watched the tenderness of his son's love for this mortal woman, he 
realized that he had had no intention of killing him. None at all.
	LaCroix simply couldn't. Beyond all the animosity, behind all 
the struggle, in spite of all the anger and hate he had felt from his son, 
Nicholas had always loved him ... after a fashion. Nicholas had always 
needed him. And, despite everything, LaCroix had known it, had gloried 
in it, in his own way. 
	Nicholas loved this woman, completely. Still, there was room 
enough in his now mortal heart for him. LaCroix felt the love and 
acceptance of whatever he would decide to do to Nicholas across their 
link as keenly as he felt the pain of his own loss. 
	And LaCroix had lost a great deal. He had lost a son, the one 
son he had loved more than any other vampire he had ever brought 
across. 
	That love, LaCroix now realized, betrayed him. He wouldn't kill 
his son. His anger might demand it, but the love would stay his hand. 
	He was brought out of his introspective reverie as he noticed 
that Nicholas was looking at him. LaCroix had made his decision. He 
wouldn't kill his son. That didn't mean that Nicholas was safe. Now, he 
had to decide if he wanted to help keep his son and Nicholas' mortal 
love alive....

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 23)
by Carrie Krumtum

	He just stared at her. The thought of killing her hadn't even 
occurred to him. There were too many things he wanted to know. "No," 
he told her. "I won't kill you again."
	Miranda didn't believe him. Why should she? The absurdity of 
standing on a street of the city and asking a vampire whether or not he 
was going to kill her ... again ... made her laugh out loud. God, she 
thought, what a twisted life. What a twisted hell....
	The sound of a yell above them made both Vachon and 
Miranda look up.

	"LACROIX!!!"

	LaCroix looked up at the sound of the shout. It was too far 
away to be heard by mortal ears but the source was moving toward him 
... rapidly. 
	
	"Uh oh," Vachon said almost absently. 

	"Get out of here," he commanded his son. 
	Nick pulled away from Natalie and followed LaCroix's gaze up 
to the skylight. He had seen the look of compassion on his father's face 
turn dark as LaCroix looked away from him and up at the window in the 
ceiling. He must have heard something. Something that Nick could no 
longer hear. There was an urgency radiating from LaCroix. What 
remained of the vampire in Nick allowed him to sense that, even if he 
couldn't hear what LaCroix did. 
	"Nick?" Natalie was confused. A second ago she was feeling 
devastated at the thought of losing Nick. Now LaCroix was ordering 
Nick out of the loft.
	Vincenti's presence grew stronger as the Restorer neared. 
"Leave!" LaCroix demanded.
	Looking back at LaCroix for the briefest of seconds, Nick 
realized what was happening. Someone else was coming. He could now 
feel a tremor of rage. It wasn't coming from LaCroix. He grabbed Natalie 
by the hand and pulled her after him as he headed for the door of the 
loft. He had to get her away from there.
	Natalie resisted the tug on her hand only briefly before 
allowing herself to be led toward the door. LaCroix was staring up at the 
skylight and she looked up at the window just in time to see something 
hurtling toward the glass. She picked up her pace.
	They had barely reached the door when the glass of the 
skylight shattered and LaCroix was again face to face with the Restorer 
Vincenti.

	"What the hell's uh oh?" Miranda asked. She could sense 
enough to know that what she had heard was another vampire.
	"I've got to go," he told her as he took to the air. Vachon had 
come down here tonight to help Knight. If he didn't get to Knight's loft 
now, there wouldn't be any Knight to help.
	"Go?" Miranda asked before she realized she was talking to 
dead air. "Go where...?"
	She put her hands on her hips and turned to look back in the 
direction of Knight's loft. "Great," she found herself telling the night, 
disgusted, "just great."	

	Ignoring the loud roar of anger behind him, Nick pushed out 
the door and down the stairs with Natalie in tow. He had to get her to 
safety. LaCroix could take care of himself. Whoever the vampire was 
that entered his loft had not come directly after them. If he had, one of 
them would be dead by now. 
	They made it to the bottom of the stairs and were out the door 
when Nick felt LaCroix's anger reach him across their link. He reached 
Natalie's car. "We've got to get out of here, Nat."
	Reaching into the pocket of her jeans, Nat pulled out the keys 
to her car and tried to get the door open. Her head was practically 
spinning from the rapid change of events. She had heard the growl as 
well and knew enough to realize that she didn't want to find out just 
what had made that sound. 

	"They will not escape me!" Vincenti roared at LaCroix. He 
would let them think they had obtained freedom. After he had killed 
LaCroix, the greatest of annoyances at the moment, it would be a small 
matter to track down Knight and his mortal companion.

	Once the door was open, Natalie climbed in only to be gently 
shoved aside by Nick as he climbed in after her. She scooted over into 
the passenger seat, pulling her legs over the brake handle just as Nick 
slammed the driver's side door closed and crammed the keys into the 
ignition. He said nothing as the motor turned over and roared to life. 
Putting the car in gear, Nick hit the accelerator and Nat was forced back 
into the passenger seat as they gained speed quickly. She winced at the 
sound of her car's tires spinning in the gravel.
	
	Vachon saw Knight and his lady doctor get into the car and 
begin to pull out. He needed to know what was going on. If the 
vibrations he picked up from Knight's loft were any indication, he didn't 
need to be in there. He slowed the rate of his descent and dropped his 
feet to land a few dozen yards in front of the moving car.

	Nick saw Vachon land right in front of him just in time to brake 
quickly. His reflexes seemed incredibly slow to him. Everything he did 
seemed to take more time and energy than it should. The costs of 
mortality, he thought. All of this would take some getting used to and 
he had barely had ten minutes of experience yet.
	The car skidded a few feet before coming to a halt. Nick rolled 
down the driver's side window as he watched Vachon walk toward his 
side of the car. Whatever it was that Vachon wanted, the timing of his 
arrival couldn't have been better. 
	
	 Vachon neared the now open window and leaned down to 
speak to Knight. "What's up in there, Knight?" he asked with a slight 
jerk of his head to indicate the second floor of the building behind them. 
He noted a very normal heartbeat radiating from Knight. He was mortal.

	"He is my son. You will not do anything to him!" LaCroix 
informed the Restorer, his eyes now blazed gold and his fangs 
prominently displayed.
	Vincenti grinned. More insolence and defiance. "He's no one's 
son now. Now he is a revenant and meat for my table."

	"LaCroix is up there with another vampire," Nick informed him.
	"A Restorer," Vachon said as he nodded in understanding. 
	Nick just stared at the younger vampire. How would a Restorer 
know that he had reverted so fast? LaCroix must have prevented the 
Restorer from coming after him. Looked up at the windows of his loft, 
Nick could still sense LaCroix's anger. The battle was just beginning. 
	He turned to look at Natalie. She was a priority right now. He 
had to get Natalie away from there until he could figure out just what 
was going on. The sense of emotion he received from his creator across 
their still remaining link pulled at his loyalties as well. In spite of all the 
threat and anguish that LaCroix had brought to him, the look of 
compassion and acceptance that he had only glimpsed in his father was 
enough to touch Nick, deeply. Whatever else LaCroix might be, right 
now, he was his father and protector and deserved Nick's loyalty. He 
may also be in need of help. If the Restorers were anything like the 
Enforcers, Nick didn't want LaCroix to have to face the threat alone. 
There would likely be more than one of them. Looking into Natalie's 
eyes, he felt torn. There had to be a way to protect both of them, Natalie 
and LaCroix.

	Miranda continued her trek toward her hotel room. She had 
given thought to returning to Nick Knight's loft. She wasn't at all sure 
that that's where Javier had gone or whether or not she would be wise 
to attempt to follow. She now knew Javier was here, in Toronto. He 
would answer to her or she would stake him. She might just stake him in 
any case....

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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 24)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Natalie could see the turmoil in Nick. He was trying to decide 
what to do. "Let's just get out of here, Nick," she encouraged him.
	Nick smiled at her and, reaching up, brushed her hair back from 
the side of her face with his fingertips. Natalie grabbed his hand. 
	"I love you," he said as he reached with his other hand to open 
the driver's side door of the car.
	"Nick, no! Please don't go back in there!" She realized what he 
intended to do. Pulling at the handle of her own door and kicking the 
door open, Natalie followed Nick out of the car.
	"Get her out of here," Nick said as he stood and turned toward 
Vachon. "I've got to go help LaCroix."
	"I'm not leaving here without you!" Natalie nearly shouted as 
she headed around the front of the car toward Nick and Vachon.
	Vachon stood in momentary wonder at Knight. He wasn't even 
a vampire anymore and he was willing to head back up into the lion's 
den to get himself killed protecting LaCroix. Amazing. Vintage Knight. 

	LaCroix roared and bolted toward the Restorer, his momentum 
carrying both of them back against the staircase railing. Vincenti 
grabbed LaCroix by the throat and tried to force the ancient back....
	
	Vachon looked up toward the window at the sound of 
LaCroix's roar. The battle was on. He would have to do something. 
What would Tracy Vetter do? he wondered.
	Stupid question, he chided himself. He knew, perfectly well, 
exactly what she would do.
 	"No," he said quietly, turning his eyes back to Knight's face. 
"I'll go help LaCroix. You get your friend out of here. You're in no 
condition to be handling our kind anyway."
	Natalie reached Nick's shoulder and grabbed on to his arm. 
"Yes!" she said in response to Vachon's assessment. "Please, Nick. 
Don't go back up there."
	Natalie's plea and Vachon's offer made him pause. Nick met 
Vachon's gaze squarely. He swallowed. "Thank you," he told the 
vampire.
	Nodding, Vachon looked over Knight's shoulder at the lady 
doctor. "I think it's time for all mortals to get as far away from here as 
possible." With that, he stepped back a pace and rose into the air, 
headed for the roof of Knight's building and the skylight entrance.

	Vincenti gave a tremendous shove with all his strength and 
threw the vampire in his grasp across the loft and against the far wall. 
LaCroix hit the bricks with an audible thud almost eight feet from the 
floor. 
	Pushing away from the railing, Vincenti paced to the dining 
room table and picked up a chair. Gripping one leg of the chair, he 
smashed the wooden piece into the concrete flooring so that it 
splintered. He grabbed the crushed body of the chair with his other 
hand, ripped it away from the leg and dropped it to the floor, leaving him 
with nothing but the leg of the chair in one hand. He would stake 
LaCroix to the wall with it....

	After climbing back into the car, Natalie nervously clenched 
and unclenched her fists in her lap until Nick had managed to pull away 
from Gateway Lane and she could no longer see his building. Hollow 
assurance, but right now, she'd accept anything. At least Nick was still 
alive ... and mortal.

	LaCroix stood up with his back against the wall he had landed 
on. Vincenti's rage had made him powerful. LaCroix would have to use 
better strategy. He watched as the Restorer neared with the chair leg in 
hand.

	Vachon saw that LaCroix had his back to the wall. Well, now or 
never, he told himself. He flew directly at the Restorer's back....

	Vincenti saw the look of understanding in LaCroix's eyes. The 
ancient was about to meet his defeat, Vincenti thought. Before he could 
finish the thought, however, his prey disappeared....

	LaCroix sped toward the side table that contained the 
abomination of a cross Nicholas had carried with him through the 
centuries. He had kept the cross as a memento of his own lost soul, now 
found. As much as this kind of guilt and self-recrimination angered 
LaCroix, now, the cross would suit a purpose of his own. He reached the 
box that held the cross just as he realized there was another presence in 
the room. 

	Nick turned onto Yonge. The light from the headlamps brought 
the color of a familiar pink sweater into view. "Miranda," he said.
	Natalie looked at Nick only to see that his attention was riveted 
on a pedestrian moving on the walk ahead and to the right of them. 
"Who's Miranda?"
	Pulling the car up to the curb just ahead of Miranda, Nick put it 
in park and opened his door, stepping out. "Miranda!"

	Vincenti whirled around, following the tremor of LaCroix's 
presence that he could still sense remained in the room with him. There 
was another there as well....
	
	Vachon had very nearly reached his target when the vampire 
whirled. A sharp pain stopped his forward progress suddenly. He stood 
face to face with the Restorer, a wooden chair leg impaling his own 
chest.
	
	She turned at the sound of her name and recognized Nick 
Knight. Miranda stopped for a moment. She couldn't sense him 
strongly. She concentrated. The tremor that she had come to recognize 
as his was still there, but ... distant. 
	"Get in," Nick instructed her.
	Miranda shook her head. She wasn't going to bring the 
Restorers down on him. She had had enough of vampires for one night. 
"Look, Knight," Miranda began, still standing where she had stopped 
on the sidewalk. "I know I asked for your help but...."
	"Miranda," Nick interrupted her. "There's a Restorer at my loft, 
right now. You can't stay out here alone. You're not safe here. Now, get 
in."
	She looked back toward the loft and thought about Javier. He 
must have gone after the Restorer. At least, it must have been the 
Restorer they had heard earlier. Why would he do that? To bring them 
back to her? Did he even really understand what had happened to her? 

	LaCroix picked up the box and opened the lid away from him so 
that the cross that was cradled within would be plainly visible to the 
Restorer. The makeshift stake that had been meant for him now 
protruded from the younger vampire's chest. Vachon wasn't dead, not 
yet, but soon would be if LaCroix didn't dispatch Vincenti quickly 
enough to help him.

	Vachon felt the world around him closing in. He noted the 
sensation with distant interest. So much for good Samaritanism, he 
thought dully. He should have learned a lesson from Tracy's latest 
escapade. You should have known better, he told himself. It was his last 
rumination before the lights around him went out.

	
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 25)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Natalie listened in silence. Nick had managed to convince the 
woman in the back seat, he called her Miranda, to get in the car with 
them. Now, Nick was explaining that Vachon was helping LaCroix take 
care of a Restorer. Nick also informed her that he too, had reverted. 
	As she allowed the conversation to happen around her, Natalie 
tried to sort out all the details. Apparently, Miranda was a revenant, the 
term used to describe a vampire who had reverted, and had come to 
Nick to ask for help. She had wanted protection from the Restorers, 
vampires whose job it was to hunt down and bring revenants back 
across ... or kill them. 
	God, she thought. First LaCroix arrives to threaten to bring 
Nick back across and then the same vampire sends them away in order 
to protect Nick. Natalie shook her head. Either LaCroix was protective or 
possessive. Her first instinct was to believe the latter. Still, Nick seemed 
to be able to sense LaCroix across their link. It hadn't been completely 
severed by Nick's reversion. And he was willing to go back up there, to 
face the danger and help LaCroix....	
	She looked over at him as he drove. His right earlobe was 
flushed. The usual pallor of his complexion had been replaced with a 
healthy pink by the beating of his mortal heart. Her throat tightened and 
she fought back a wave of emotion. Everything had been happening so 
fast. Too fast. There was so much she didn't understand, so many 
things going on that she was, only now, beginning to put into some 
kind of perspective. She needed time. THEY needed time ... together. 
She wanted to hold him and feel his heart beating against her, to feel the 
warmth of his flesh against her own. She wanted to be with him ... to 
love him ... to be loved by him....
	Right now they had to find some place safe. Her best 
suggestion was the morgue. At least there she could do something 
useful. Natalie wanted to get Nick to the lab as soon as possible and try 
and figure out just exactly what had happened to him.

	The Restorer turned to face him and immediately began to 
growl. The cross was doing its job. 
	Vincenti felt the power of the cross sear his senses. The young 
one was no longer a threat but he still might be useful. Vincenti picked 
up the body of the vampire he had staked. There was life in him yet. Let 
the cross burn this insignificant, he thought. These two could die in 
each other's arms....
	LaCroix understood the Restorer's strategy immediately. He 
simply stood and waited....
	
	Vachon could feel his body begin to move, without his ability 
to stop it. He also felt a searing pain. He knew that pain ... an ancient 
caustic. The cross had not always been so. It had once been the center 
of his life and sense of duty. A duty he had walked away from when he 
had stepped into the darkness. 
	He didn't know if it was the pain of the cross or the movement 
that brought him back to semi-consciousness. It didn't matter, not really. 
He wasn't in control of anything, himself or the motion he felt. The pain 
increased as he neared full wakefulness. Something was growling....

	"You will die now, LaCroix. You and your young associate 
here," Vincenti nodded to indicate the limp figure in his grasp. He held 
the young vampire up by the scruff of his jacket collar displaying the 
body in front of him like a shield.
	The grin on his face broadened as he began to move.
	
	LaCroix counseled himself to wait. Calling on ancient skills that 
had served him well on the fields of mortal battle, he tensed his muscles 
imperceptibly, preparing them for the task ahead.

	Vincenti shot toward the source of his recent aggravation with 
the chair leg sticking out of the vampire's chest he held before him. He 
would impale LaCroix on the same stake and leave him to die in the 
company of his young, ineffectual champion.

	As the Restorer neared, LaCroix set his left foot and dropped 
the box that held the cross. As soon as the stake that protruded from 
Vachon's chest was within reach of him, LaCroix gripped it and spun 
around sharply. The maneuver had two effects, the first being the 
removal of the stake from the young vampire's chest. The second result 
of his action placed LaCroix immediately behind Vincenti with the 
weapon he would need to dispatch the Restorer in hand. 

	Vachon felt the stake being ripped from his chest and let go a 
cry of anguish at the pain. The grip on him tightened from behind and 
then released him. He fell forward onto the floor. Once again, he sensed 
the world around him begin to fade away....

	LaCroix wasted no time or platitudes on the Restorer. Using the 
full force of his considerable strength, he buried the chair leg deep into 
Vincenti's back, making sure the wood reached the cold organ that was 
all that remained of a once human heart.

	Too late Vincenti realized the error he had made. The agony of 
the staking reverberated through him and he shuddered with rage at the 
injustice of it all. He would die and LaCroix would remain. No revenants 
had been dealt with and his goals would remain unmet. 
	He dropped the burden in his hands and raked the air with 
hands frozen into clawlike appendages as his life drained from him. His 
hate for the vampire who killed him was all that kept one last vestige of 
life from draining away.
	"LaCroix." His voice rattled in his throat at the name and then, 
he was falling into eternal darkness.

	The Restorer gasped his name once more and fell forward onto 
the floor to lie next to the young Spaniard's prostrate form....

	He turned the corner off of Yonge onto Grenville heading west, 
toward the morgue. Natalie's suggestion made sense. Only LaCroix 
would think to look for them there and Nick knew there was no way to 
hide from his vampiric father, not as long as their link remained. 
LaCroix.... Nick wondered what was happening at his loft right now. He 
sighed.
	The fatigue he had first felt in his loft after realizing what was 
happening to him was worsening. Nick knew he needed rest. Rest and 
Natalie. 
	He looked in the rearview mirror as he slowed the car at an 
intersection. Miranda sat quietly in the back seat, studying the 
buildings that passed by. What could he do to help her? Miranda had 
left his loft to protect him, she had explained. If she was worried about 
protecting him, why come to him at all?
	Obviously there was a lot he still didn't understand. He had 
questions that would need answers. Questions that he didn't have the 
energy to ask. Questions that he wished he didn't have to ask. There 
was a part of him that didn't want to care about any of this. None of it 
should matter. None of it except for the reality of his humanity and the 
love Natalie offered him.
	The light turned green and he slowly hit the accelerator. The 
most important reason for him to try and figure this all out sat next to 
him. Natalie's life was in danger as well. He would have to be a detective 
and find out just how Miranda was involved with Vachon and how that 
Restorer knew to go to his loft. He would have to find a way of keeping 
them all alive. He would have to....
	Nick ignored his fatigue as the Coroner's building came into 
view. There was too much to do to worry about the wages of his 
mortality now. If he paid those wages, perhaps Providence would grant 
him one day in the sun with Natalie. Just one day wasn't too much to 
ask, was it?
	After everything he had been and done, he really had no 
idea....

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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 26)
by Carrie Krumtum

	The young vampire was alive. LaCroix made certain before 
going about the task he knew he had to perform next. There could be no 
delay....

	Natalie turned on the light and waited for Miranda and Nick to 
enter the lab before closing and locking the door. There was a lot she 
would have to do and she guessed that she wouldn't have much time in 
which to do it. Natalie went to work.
	He watched Nat head for her desk. She unlocked the bottom 
drawer and, opening it, pulled out the notebook Nick knew contained 
her notes on their efforts so far. He moved to a lab stool and sat down. 
His legs didn't give him the impression that they would support his 
weight much longer.
	She watched him sit down. His reversion, although complete, 
had been too recent for him to have adjusted. Nick Knight was centuries 
old. Miranda didn't know just how many for sure, but she had sensed 
his power. Power like that indicates great age. She would guess that he 
was much older than she was, older than just about any vampire she 
had ever met. Except for maybe ... Janette. But then, he had brought 
Janette back across.
	Miranda sighed. What the hell was she doing here? She 
should have told Knight to leave her. Why didn't she? Reflecting on it, 
she realized that there was something about this vampire, now revenant, 
that touched her. Miranda couldn't put her finger on it, but there was ... 
something, a need or a purpose that drew her to him. She sensed it, 
vaguely. Perhaps destiny would find them both. 
	Yeah, she thought. Destiny in the form of a Restorer, most 
likely. 

	The darkness faded into a red haze as he looked about him. He 
hungered....

	He had taken the Restorer's body to the alley behind his son's 
building and, lighting Vincenti's clothing on fire, stepped away. The 
body of the Restorer began to burn in moments and was completely 
consumed in a few short seconds. LaCroix would remain to witness the 
blaze until nothing but ashes remained.
	
	"I'm going to need blood samples from both of you," Natalie 
was saying. She donned gloves and moved to the counter to collect the 
supplies she would need to make the slides for examination.
	"Blood samples?" Miranda asked. She looked around the lab 
and tried not the think about all the things that had been taken off of 
bodies as 'samples' in this room. The fact that Nick had recruited a 
doctor to help him made sense. But a coroner? Come to think of it, she 
reasoned, a doctor for the dead helping the dead did make a kind of 
bizarre sense. She would have to give Knight credit for that.
	Natalie looked at the woman expectantly. "I need a sample so I 
can compare it to Nick's. I'm trying to find out exactly what has 
happened to you both that has allowed you to come back across."
	Miranda looked from Knight to his doctor friend and back 
again. "Sure," she nodded. "Why not?"

	The hunger burned him, at him, in him. The smell of blood led 
him to a drying puddle of thick and coagulated blood on the floor. The 
blood wasn't human. He didn't care, couldn't care. He ran his hand 
through the puddle and licked at his fingers. He hungered and the 
hunger drove him. There was nothing else, just the hunger and this rank 
offering in the darkness....

	The last of the Restorer was reduced to ashes. LaCroix poked 
at the ashes with an iron rod he found in the alleyway and scattered 
them to the wind. That was the end of the a most unpleasant irritant, he 
thought. He would deal with Vargo and his minions later. Now he 
needed to attend to other matters....

	Nick rubbed his arm where Natalie had taken the blood. It hurt. 
This was the first time he could remember the procedure ever hurting. 
He welcomed the pain. It, like so many other sensations he was only 
now noticing, reminded him, testified to him that this whole thing wasn't 
a dream. How could it be? He was running from an unseen threat that 
his once vampiric father was dealing with for him. The tremors he had 
felt from LaCroix when he first left the loft had now diminished. Again, 
Nick wondered if LaCroix was all right. Vachon as well. What was going 
on?
	Natalie kissed him, briefly, on the mouth when she finished 
taking his blood. It was a quiet moment. A promise. A reassurance. The 
look of love and fear in her face stirred his desire to do something to get 
to the root of their current dilemma. 

	He hungered! The last of the blood he could lick from the floor 
was gone. He must feed. There was no life here to sustain him, to fill the 
need. He hungered and the night called. He took to the air.

	"Tell me how you know Vachon," Nick said to Miranda after 
Natalie finished placing a bandage over her new puncture site.
	Miranda turned to face Nick Knight and thought about the 
wisdom of telling him anything. She wasn't at all sure she could trust 
Vachon as far as she could throw him and Knight was already in 
enough trouble as it was. The Restorers had already found his loft.
	He noticed Miranda's hesitation and tried to think of a way to 
reassure her. They needed to help each other if either of them expected 
to live much longer. "Look, Miranda," he began. "I know you want to 
protect me. You think by keeping a distance and silence that you can 
keep the Restorers away. Well, they've already found me. I need to 
know how that happened and why. It can't be because they knew I had 
reverted."
	Nick paused to watch Miranda's reaction. Natalie looked up 
from her labors to give him a smile. He turned his attention back to 
Miranda. "It's been too soon for that," he continued. "We have to help 
each other if we expect to survive this. Besides," he confided, "I already 
know Vachon."

	Damn! Vachon had disappeared. The younger vampire must 
have come to, LaCroix thought. He would be in the grip of the hunger as 
a result of his injury. He needed to find him before the wounded vampire 
began to kill. In his current state, he wouldn't be worried about cleaning 
up the mess he would most likely make as he fed.

	Kyle pulled the cardboard around him and settled down 
against the mat behind him. Cardboard was useful for many things. He 
had learned to make matting from it and used it to keep out the night's 
chill. Not extremely useful information for the average seventeen year 
old, but then he wasn't the average teenager, Kyle thought dryly. 
	He was smiling to himself as a result of this train of thought 
when someone grabbed him and pulled him out from under his 
cardboard shelter. That someone had blood red eyes and a pair of the 
biggest teeth he had ever seen. The sight of the monster terrified him so 
badly that he completely forgot to scream....

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 27)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"I'm not sure," Urs told the ancient vampire, who had returned 
to the club in more haste than Urs could ever remember noting in him. 
Vachon had disappeared after being wounded, LaCroix had said. There 
was to be no more explanation and LaCroix had simply ignored the 
questions she had asked in order to find out what had happened. She 
was being instructed to find him. "There are a few places I could check."
	"Good. Do so," LaCroix told her. "He may be in need of 
assistance," he warned her. 
	The meaning of LaCroix's last statement wasn't lost on Urs. She 
would make sure she was well fed and had a supply of blood with her. If 
Vachon was in the grips of the hunger, she wouldn't wager on the 
chances of any mortal he came across surviving the night.
	LaCroix paused just long enough to watch her leave the club. 
He had dispatched the help the young vampire would need. Now, he 
had to find his son.
	There was reason enough for haste. Sunrise would occur all 
too soon.

	"I didn't even know he was in Toronto until he appeared on the 
street tonight," Miranda finished. She had tried to keep the anger and 
bitterness out of her voice, unsuccessfully. Talking about Vachon only 
made old emotions rise within her again. Why hadn't Vachon just made 
sure she was dead by breaking her neck that first night? If he had killed 
her then and there he would have spared her decades of hell. 
	That was the way she had come to look at her existence now. 
A hell. It really didn't matter that she had reverted. Not really. At first, 
the thought of the Restorers frightened her. She didn't want to be 
brought back across and she was afraid of death. Miranda supposed 
that that was why she had come across in the first place. Her fear of 
death had given her a will to fight against it. It took a century of 
darkness to convince her otherwise and a night of soul-searching to 
finally overcome that fear. What did life offer her now that death didn't 
also offer? At least in death she would escape, once and for all, the 
need for the blood ... the lust for the life of another ... the loneliness that 
craving created in her. Above everything else, this was the one freedom 
she longed for; a release from the terrible hunger. Her reversion hadn't 
freed her from it. Now she knew that only death would release her....
	Nick couldn't help but notice the dark nature of Miranda's 
emotional state. While they had both reverted, they both still possessed 
a portion of their vampiric senses. Principally, the linkage that allowed a 
vampire to sense others of their kind and read their states of being. 
Some had honed this sense so highly that they could actually read 
another's thoughts. LaCroix often boasted that he could read Nick's 
mind. Nick had since learned that this had not been the complete truth. 
One of many such half-truths that LaCroix would try and instill in his 
progeny. At least, in Nick.
	Natalie might be able to figure out why revenants retained their 
vampiric sense but not much of their other abilities. Nick was only now 
becoming comfortable with the idea that he couldn't hear Nat's 
heartbeat. The world seemed so much smaller to him. He felt almost 
claustrophobic by the sudden diminishment in his physical senses. 
Vision, smell, hearing, strength ... all were limited and, it seemed to Nick, 
extremely so. 
	He supposed that he would eventually get used to the 
changes. It would take a long time to rediscover the world around him. 
And, there were many things he wanted to get to know, not the least of 
which was the whole of the woman he loved. Glancing over at her, Nick 
watched as Natalie switched the slides she was viewing under the 
microscope, stopping only briefly to jot down a note or two before 
looking back at the samples. Devoted. That's what she was. Devoted to 
her career and to their goal and to him. He silently prayed that, one day, 
he would be worthy of that devotion.
	He looked back toward Miranda. She had fallen silent after 
finishing her story. So, Vachon had left her for dead and she had tasted 
enough vampire blood to be brought across. Nick had no idea what 
such a conversion did to a person, if their vampiric experience differed 
in any way from those vampires who had been brought across by 
design rather than by accident. The only other vampire he had ever 
known to be brought across the way Miranda had was the Barber. He 
shuddered at the memory. 
	Thankfully, Miranda didn't seem to share any of the same 
characteristics with that particular vampire, at least, none that were 
readily evident. She had left his loft earlier this night because she didn't 
want to place him in any more danger, or so she had said. That didn't 
sound much like a person who was homicidal. 
	Still, he sensed a discordant note in her. Depression, maybe. Or 
maybe it was something more. Whatever it was, he hoped she would 
work it out. There wasn't exactly an ex-vampire support group out there. 
The Restorers made sure of that. Nick guessed that Janette had been 
the closest thing to a support system that could exist in the community. 
That support had consisted of sending Miranda to him. He would help 
Miranda all he could, with all the assistance she would permit, anyway.

	He twisted the head of the body he held sharply to the left, 
snapping the neck, before dropping it to the pavement at his feet. The 
deep, ravenous hunger had been only partially pacified by this mortal's 
life. Images of fear and pain and loneliness had assaulted him as a result 
of taking this one. The taste had not met his need.
	He remembered a smell, the promise of a blood sweet and pure, 
a blood that would calm his hunger....

	She listened with a heart that felt as if it was being squeezed in 
a vise. Natalie couldn't help but think of what had happened to Miranda 
as a rape. Maybe what Miranda had gone through since becoming a 
vampire was so different there could be no comparison between their 
life experiences. But ... she found herself gripping the knob of the 
microscope and trying to focus on the image the lens offered her ... 
Miranda had been raped. Vachon had taken what he wanted of her and 
then left her for dead. Wasn't that exactly what had happened to me? 
she thought. 
	Similarities in the tone of Miranda's anger and bitterness 
reminded Natalie so much of her own recent struggle that she felt an 
immediate compassion for Miranda. Natalie also felt fortunate. Although 
there had been some comfort for Miranda in the vampire community, 
she had never known healing. At least Natalie had Nick and Dr. Mary. 
She had intervention counseling and loving kindness. Nat wondered 
where a wounded vampire could go. From her observations of Nick's 
relationship with LaCroix, she guessed that vampires had no support 
system like that.

	The church was empty. Urs picked up another bottle of blood 
and put it in the bag she carried slung over her shoulder and headed 
out. There was one more place to check before she would have to ask 
for more help to search. She would go to the apartment of the mortal 
that Vachon found so fascinating.

	"Nat? Are you okay?" Nick looked over at her only to find that 
she sat with her head tilted over the microscope but her eyes were shut. 
Rising from his stool, he headed for her.
	Before he could reach her, Natalie raised her hand. 
	"I'm okay," she told him quietly. 
	Pausing, Nick leaned against the counter and tried to search 
her face. 
	"What is it, Nat?" Nick didn't try to hide his concern.
	"It's the same," she told him as she turn on the stool and 
looked, first at Nick, then to Miranda. "Exactly the same."
	Furrowing his brow, Nick shook his head slightly. He was 
confused. "What's the same? I don't understand."
	"Don't you see?" Natalie asserted as she met the inquiring 
gaze of the other woman in the room. "Miranda's been raped."

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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 28)
by Carrie Krumtum

	The mortal lay sleeping. There was the distinct odor of blood, 
bandages, recently acquired wounds.... 
	Something in the back of his mind told him that those wounds 
were what he had expected to find. He wasn't sure. It didn't matter. 
There was the odor of blood, sweet with the promised tastes of callalily 
and apricots. 
	He approached the slumbering form of his need's end....

	The body of the boy lay at her feet. She closed her eyes. This 
death was something she had wanted and had been denied. Urs 
couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at that. After leaving the empty 
church, she had followed the tremor of her link with Vachon and it had 
brought her here.
	Opening her eyes, Urs took one last longing filled look at the 
dead mortal before springing into the air. If she didn't reach Vachon 
now, more mortals would die tonight. 
	She followed the tremor that she knew would take her directly 
to Vachon.
	
	"Raped?!" Miranda said. She wasn't looking at the couple in 
the room. She really wasn't looking at anything. Her recitation had 
affected her more than she cared to admit. Talking about Vachon had 
dredged up emotions that she felt ill prepared to deal with. It was hard 
enough just making it through a day. But then, Vachon's sudden 
appearance had made those emotions boil within her anyway. 
Emotions....
	Miranda wondered just how she was supposed to feel about it 
all. She was angry and bitter. The sound of her own voice told her that 
much. She hated Vachon but ... a part of her understood as well. She 
understood the hunger that drove him. She understood all too well. But, 
rape? Is that what a vampire did when they fed? Murder, yes. Steal a 
life, certainly. But.... Miranda had never thought of feeding as a 
violation equal to raping someone. Not, that is, until now.
	"Nat?" Nick's quiet voice called her name again. Natalie 
resisted the urge to look him in the face. She didn't want to see his eyes. 
What she said could be thought of as an accusation. Nick had been a 
vampire for centuries. Maybe he would think she was chiding him. And, 
she was, in a way. The way a vampire was forced to feed, to procreate, 
to hunt ... all of it, seemed to her now, in the light of Miranda's story, to 
sound like nothing more than wholesale rape of the human race. They 
took what they wanted from mankind and left what remained behind 
without another thought. Only, in Nick's case, the guilt could drive them 
from the behavior. Nick was different and, she thought, thank God for it.
	Her hands hurt. Looking down into her lap, Natalie realized she 
had been clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles had turned 
white. Taking a deep breath to steady her mind and heart, she forced 
herself to relax and then looked up at Nick. 
	He realized that his heart was beating rapidly. Nick had been 
afraid that when she had exclaimed 'It's the same,' Nat was talking about 
his blood. The fear that he hadn't actually reverted and that the vampire 
still lurked inside of him waiting to take over his soul, to kill his 
humanity again, terrified him. Now, he understood that she was dealing 
with the facts of Miranda's story. And he was still frightened. This 
wouldn't be the first time he was accused of rape in reference to his 
behavior as a vampire. Alexandra had hunted him across centuries to 
level that same accusation at him and try and take her revenge. 
	This was the first time he had heard Natalie talk this way about 
vampiric activity, though. The comparison was a fair one. What did that 
mean for them, for what they would face after this? Would Nat look at 
him like a rapist? Her assault had fundamentally changed the way she 
viewed her life, Nick knew that. What he didn't know was if she could 
see beyond the similarities between what Lavendly had done to her and 
what Nick had been and find a way to love him for the rest of their lives. 
Above everything else, Nick feared the possibility that, after all was 
said and done, Natalie just couldn't love him. Hadn't he always held that 
fear? That anyone who bothered to take a close look at the condition of 
his soul would be nothing but repulsed by what they found?

	There was a sound. Tracy could hear a low growl and the cop 
in her became instantly alert as she woke. Someone else was in her room 
and she knew the instant she looked up from her pillow that this 
someone else wasn't human. 

	"I guess he did," Miranda said to no one in particular. What 
Natalie had said made sense. Raping a person of their mortality was 
very much like taking their innocence or control. It was, in fact, exactly 
the same. Damn, Vachon! she thought again. Why didn't you just kill 
me?
	Nick looked over at her and was about to try and explain what 
Natalie meant when he noted a look of anger and recognition filter into 
Miranda's face. Sitting forward, she looked toward the door. 
	Just as he turned to follow her gaze, Nick felt it. A vampire had 
arrived. He knew the feeling of the tremor he now felt. He knew it very 
well. Before he could warn Natalie, the knob of the lab door began to 
turn against the lock. The sound of metal grinding against wood echoed 
eerily in the large room of the lab.
	The door swung open just as Nick stepped around Nat to 
place himself between both women and the intruder.

	The human had awakened. With speed and skill from centuries 
of practiced hunting, Vachon took the mortal into his grasp, pulling her 
up from the bed and clasping her body to his chest. Tilting the head to 
the side with one hand, he exposed the side of her neck. 
	"VACHON!?" Tracy cried in alarm and pain. Being wrenched 
up like that tore at her incisions and was excruciating. Added to the pain 
was the realization that he was about to kill her. The adrenaline rush 
made the whole scene seem to slow down and she could feel each 
second tick by. Tracy become keenly aware of what was about to 
happen and her own helplessness. She had wondered what being taken 
by Vachon might be like. You're about to find out, she told herself 
darkly. If it hadn't been for the pain she was in, she might have laughed.
	"VACHON!" she yelled. "It's me, Tracy! Let me go!"
	In the next second, at the sound of another deep throated 
growl, her terror broke through and took control. She swung her left 
elbow behind her and hit her attacker in the chest as hard as she could. 

	Urs could hear the mortal shout from a few miles away. She 
may have arrived too late.

	He howled at the pain from the blow. The wound from his 
impaling had not fully healed and he reeled back toward the wall behind 
him, letting go of his prey.
	
	The sound of his howl forced her to push a last bit of speed 
out of her approach. She crashed through the window of the apartment 
bedroom and didn't stop until she had a tight hold of Vachon, pinning 
him to the wall with all her strength.
	Tracy heard the crash as she tried to stand back up. After 
Vachon had let her go she had fallen onto the edge of her bed. When 
she did manage to turn, she found two vampires in her room. Vachon 
was still growling with eyes that burned red hot and angry. The other, a 
woman vampire, held him firmly and was talking to him quietly.
	"I'm here, Javier. Drink." Urs was using all of her strength to 
keep him pinned long enough to get his attention. She would deal with 
the mortal as soon as she knew that Vachon no longer posed a threat to 
her. "Javier," she searched his eyes to see if he understood her. "Drink. 
I've brought you what you need."
	Looking away from the mortal and the promise of her blood, he 
looked into the golden eyes of his kind. He knew those eyes. Kind eyes. 
She was offering him her wrist. Blood. He hungered. Reaching for the 
arm, he pause for only the briefest of seconds before plunging his fangs 
into her flesh.

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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 29)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"Yes. I'd say that your analogy was quite accurate, Doctor," 
LaCroix said as he pushed the door to the lab completely open and 
stepped into the room.	
	Nick stood face to face with his vampiric father. There was no 
evidence, physically or along their link, that indicated to Nick that 
LaCroix had ever been in battle with the Restorer. Nick's last memory 
from their bond had been of LaCroix's rage. Nick felt a relief at LaCroix's 
safe appearance at the morgue flood him and was surprised by the force 
of the emotion. 
	"What happened, LaCroix?" he finally asked, deciding to 
ignore LaCroix's comment, for now.
	"Is that any way to say thank you, Nicholas?" LaCroix's silky 
voice took on a characteristic derision. At least that much about his 
relationship with LaCroix had not changed, Nick mused. 
	"It's a fair question, all the same." LaCroix looked past his son 
to the source of this last comment. It was the revenant that had spoken.
	Miranda stood up and faced the ancient vampire. She could 
still feel the waves of his power. When first she had met this vampire, 
she had been terrified. The fear, still, played at the back of her mind. 
Then, she had wanted to live. Now ... well, she didn't have anything to 
lose. She wanted, like Nick, to know what had happened in that loft. 
	Nick looked behind him. He could feel the anger rise in LaCroix. 
He met Miranda's eyes and shook his head at her in warning. Miranda 
simply looked away from him and back at LaCroix. 
	"Well?" Miranda asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 
	LaCroix nodded as he noted that his son stood protectively 
between the mortal, revenant and himself. Chivalrous to the last, he 
thought.  

	"Would somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?" 
Tracy had to sit down. She grimaced in pain as she tried to ease herself 
down onto the bed. She found that by placing her hand firmly against 
the surgical incision at her side, she could move around with a little less 
agony. Her bandages were damp. She had started to bleed again. Damn. 
She hoped she wouldn't need to be back in the hospital. 
	Urs could feel herself nearing the limits to which she could 
allow Vachon to safely feed. He showed no signs of slowing his pace 
and she began to push against his side. With an effort, she forced his 
head away from her wrist and, pulling out a bottle from the bag slung 
over her shoulder, handed it to him before letting go. 
	Javier was nearing full coherence. She could feel his control 
returning as the pace of his feeding slowed. He was confused. The 
mortal would need an explanation and so would he. She continued to 
watch him carefully as she rubbed her wrist. The fang marks were 
disappearing already. The wound in Vachon's chest was also showing 
signs of healing completely. 
	"He's been injured, almost fatally," Urs said as she half turned 
to look at the mortal detective. "He came here hunting for blood to help 
himself heal."
	"You mean," Tracy couldn't keep the fear out of her voice, "he 
was hunting me?"
	Urs nodded and looked back at Vachon. He slowly lowered the 
bottle from his lips and opened up his eyes, revealing deep brown irises 
flecked with gold. The guilt on his face told her that he was completely 
coherent now. And, he understood what Urs had said to the mortal 
detective. "Oh God, Trace," he whispered.

	The degree of tension in the room rose palpably. Natalie wasn't 
sure what she should do but she wasn't about to let this confrontation 
degenerate any further. Nick wouldn't let LaCroix hurt Miranda and Nick 
wasn't in any condition to have to try and deal with LaCroix right now. 
The anemia she noted in Nick's blood sample told her that he still had a 
long way to go before his body stabilized after his reversion. She had to 
do something. 
	She had barely finished the thought when another person 
entered the room. 
	"Dr. Lambert? I didn't know you were back. Is everything all 
right in here?"
	Raymond, the night shift security guard, entered the room 
behind the vampire and glanced at Miranda before giving LaCroix a 
good long look. Nick was someone he knew, but Miranda and LaCroix....
	Turning, LaCroix faced the new arrival. "Everything is fine," 
LaCroix intoned, listening for and concentrating on the mortal's 
heartbeat. "Dr. Lambert and Detective Knight are just doing some 
research. They will be leaving shortly. No one else is here."
	Natalie was about to say something when Nick grabbed her 
arm to reassure her. 
	"Well ... okay," Raymond said, still staring into the eyes of the 
ancient vampire. "Just be sure to lock up when you leave."
	"Dr. Lambert always locks up," LaCroix told the security guard.
	"Of course you do. Just a reminder," Raymond replied.
	LaCroix looked away from the security guard and stepped back 
behind the door slowly.
	Nick let go of Natalie's arm as he sensed her relax. "Thank you, 
Raymond," Natalie told the aging security guard.
	Raymond looked over at the doctor and the detective. "My 
pleasure," he told them. "It's good to have you back Dr. Lambert. We 
miss you around here when you're gone."
	Natalie smiled, "Thanks."
	"Okay," the security guard said. "I'll leave you two to your 
work." With that, Raymond left the room.
	LaCroix approached them only after the guard had moved well 
down the hallway. 
	Natalie didn't know exactly what to expect from LaCroix. He 
may have protected Nick at the loft only to assure his own claim on him. 
"You didn't have to do that," Natalie told LaCroix.
	"Of course I did," LaCroix replied. "You wouldn't have wanted 
Raymond to know that I was here. That would have required ... other 
intervention."  His face held the standard unreadable mask that Natalie 
had come to associate almost exclusively with this vampire.
	"Pfft." Miranda found herself disgusted rather than afraid of 
LaCroix now. Here was another taker, another rapist of the human race. 
And, this one thought very highly of himself for helping them tonight. If 
LaCroix was like every other vampire she had ever known, what he did 
was self-serving and suited his own purposes. If it just happened to 
help Nick Knight or anyone else out of a jam, it was coincidental.
	 LaCroix decided to ignore the revenant for the moment. "I 
believe it's time for all of us to be going," he announced.
	Natalie stiffened and Nick could feel the anger rise even further 
from Miranda. He simply wouldn't allow LaCroix to hurt either of them. 
LaCroix already understood that he would not come back across if 
taken. There wasn't going to be an accommodation for LaCroix's point of 
view this morning. Sunrise neared, Nick could sense it coming. 
Whatever happened would happen here and now. And, LaCroix wasn't 
going to like it.
	"We're not going with you, LaCroix," Nick said with 
conviction.
	"Damn right," Miranda added.
	LaCroix smiled. "I don't see that any of you have a choice in 
the matter...."

	"How did he get hurt like that?" Tracy Vetter asked. 
	"I don't know," Urs said honestly. "Even if I did, I wouldn't 
have time to explain it to you. Not now." There was no malice for 
Tracy's feelings in the vampire's voice, just a quiet firmness that spoke 
of earnest need. "The dawn is coming and I have to get Javier to safety 
before the sun rises."
	With that, Urs took Vachon by the shoulder and pulled him 
away from the wall. Vachon began to resist as he looked at Tracy's face. 
"Tracy...."
	"Not now, Javier. We haven't the time. Later." Stepping around 
to get his attention, Urs glared to let him know that there wasn't another 
option. He nodded as they both took to the air, leaving the mortal alone.

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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 30)
by Carrie Krumtum

	The sun rose with glory. At least, that's the way Nick had seen 
it referred to over and over again in piece after piece of literature. He 
stood, in full sunshine, unafraid and unimpaired by drugs or potions. He 
stood, in the rays of light, free from his curse. He stood in wonder, a 
heart filled with new found hope; hope that this was only the first of 
many such glorious sunrises and hope that all of them would be shared, 
from now until his death, with Natalie.
	Natalie watched as Nick closed his eyes to tilt his face up to 
the light from the dawn. How many times had she been moved to tears 
in the past few hours? And yet, the tears came again, fresh and right 
from her heart. She still didn't know why or how Nick had reverted. 
Right this very second, it didn't seem so important. What was important 
was that this sunrise was theirs. 
	Nick took a deep breath of the morning air. Opening his eyes, 
he turned to look at Natalie. She was crying. The tears were genuine and 
they were for him, for them both. 
	"I never thought...." he began quietly.
	"I know," Natalie told him.
	Nick pulled her into his arms and held her. They stood together 
on the stone steps of the Coroner's building in downtown Toronto. He 
didn't care. For Nick, nothing in the world existed but the light of the 
sun and the woman in his arms. Taking another deep breath, he inhaled 
the scent of her hair. "I don't ever want to spend another sunrise away 
from you, Nat."
	"Me either," she whispered into his shoulder.
	Slowly, Nick pulled away and looked into her face to search her 
eyes. "Really?" he asked in quiet desperation. 
	Her first reaction was to feel hurt that he would ever question 
that. When she looked into his eyes, she could see his need to know 
written there. Nick had been a vampire and she had just accused all 
vampires of being rapists. How could he not wonder if she would love 
him? 
	Then, how could she NOT love him? Nick had been the reason 
she had survived her rape. Nick had been the anchor she had held to. 
Nick had loved her, did love her. What he needed was to know how 
much she could and did love him, right now, at the very beginning of 
their new lives together.  And their lives were new. His mortality didn't 
change what he had been but it also didn't change the way she had felt 
about him almost from the moment she had first known him.
	"Don't you know?" she told him softly, quietly, honestly, with 
her whole heart. "I'm in love with you, Nicholas B. Knight.  I've loved 
you so much. I will always love you. I will die loving you."
	He found it hard to give his feelings a voice. This was his best 
dream realized. There was a sweet tenderness between them that Nick 
never wanted to lose. Ever. When he did speak, his voice was as quiet 
as hers had been and equally as earnest. "I never want to see another 
sunrise without you," he told her again. "Will you ... would you ... be 
willing to watch all of them ... with me?"	
	Natalie knew her heart would burst. There could only be one 
answer to such a question. Only one that her heart could give. "Yes," 
she promised. She watched the light of the sun be eclipsed by the light 
of love in Nick's face.  
	Please God, Natalie found herself praying. Don't let this be the 
only one we share....

	Miranda entered her hotel room. She was tired but was unable 
to sleep. 
	After leaving the morgue, out of sheer rebellion for the 
attitudes that LaCroix represented and against Knight's protests, she 
gave brief thought to trying to find Vachon. The very brief explanation 
LaCroix had given of the events at the loft left her with a strange desire, 
almost a desperate need, to find him. So, Vachon had been injured and 
other members of the community were caring for him. So what? He still 
had to answer to her. And, Miranda vowed, he would.
	Then, the great LaCroix had let her go with a mere warning to 
be discrete. The Restorer  that had been hunting her had been killed and 
there remained no immediate threat. Her safety was assured if she didn't 
let anyone in the community know she was in Toronto and left to start 
her life over, someplace else.
	Oh sure, she thought. Like there aren't vampires 'someplace 
else.' Hell. How could she ever be certain she wouldn't be discovered? 
Her vampiric senses still identified her to members of the community. As 
soon as someone recognized her as a revenant, she'd be on the run 
again. 
	No. She wasn't going to run any more. She wasn't going to live 
in fear. She wasn't going to continue to live with this hunger. There 
were other options. As long as Knight and his lady friend were 
protected, she owed them that at the very least, she would seek a 
solution to her dilemma of her own choosing. No more letting the 
decisions of a vampire count for a damn thing. Not Knight, Janette, 
LaCroix or Vachon. It was about time SHE chose what would happen 
next. There was Vachon to reckon with and then she would choose.  All 
she had to do was wait for one more sunset.
	
	The room was empty and appropriately so, it seemed to him. 
His heart felt oddly empty as well. Loss does that, his mind told him. 
	He sat perfectly still, staring into the blackness of the room. He 
didn't need the light, anyway. What good would light be? His memory 
of that morning was vivid enough.
	Nicholas had stood in defiance, again. That hadn't surprised 
him. Nor had the protectiveness of his mortal love.
	It was Dr. Lambert who had asked for the explanation, 
primarily, he knew, to relieve the tension that was building in the room 
as the revenant and Nicholas stood in defiance of his wishes for them.
	"LaCroix, what happened at the loft? With the Restorer? 
Vachon?" Dr. Lambert had inquired.
	The revenant's face lost some of its anger for him at the 
mention of the young Spaniard. There was a link there. Interesting, 
LaCroix thought.
	"I have saved all your lives," LaCroix said with a dispassion he 
did not feel. "And your lack of gratefulness is in the poorest of tastes, 
in my humble opinion."
	"What did happen?" Nicholas had asked with characteristic 
impatience and disregard for LaCroix's last comment.
	"The Restorer has been killed," he told them. 
	"And Javier Vachon?" the revenant asked.
	"Injured," he informed her.
	"Vachon was hurt?" Nicholas had immediately wanted to 
know. There was guilt in his face. Guilt that LaCroix knew he would find 
there. It was so like his son to feel guilty as a result of events he was 
powerless to change. "How badly? Do you know where he is?"
	"The wound wasn't fatal. Don't worry, Nicholas. I have sent 
him the assistance he needs."
	At this last, LaCroix could have sworn that he felt relief from 
the revenant as well as from his son. That sense of relief, however, 
didn't last.
	"I've got to find him," the revenant declared as she gathered 
her bags and headed for the door.
	"Miranda! Don't," Nicholas told her as he turned and moved to 
block her path of exit from the room. She had stopped in front of his son 
and stared. "What you're planning is dangerous."
	The revenant did not heed the warning. 
	"I wouldn't," LaCroix had advised, in support of Nicholas' 
caution. "The immediate danger is over and, if you are discrete, may be 
so permanently. I would leave the city, if I were you. Without further 
contact with Vachon."
	"I don't give a damn what you would or wouldn't do," the 
revenant had spat at him.
	"Miranda, no," Nicholas fairly pleaded with her as she moved 
around him and headed for the door. 
	"Let her go, Nicholas," he told his son as Nicholas stood, 
probably debating on whether or not to leave his mortal love and follow 
the revenant. Nicholas felt responsible for her. He felt responsible for 
just about everyone he had ever met. Status quo for his child, now lost 
to him.	
	Yes, he thought, lost. How is one supposed to feel when they 
lose a child? He had lost many. Why was this time so different? The 
question was a stupid one. It was different because Nicholas was 
different. He had been different from the very beginning. Really, 
Nicholas had never truly been his. 
	The truth of this last thought hurt with its intensity. That was 
it. Nicholas had never, not really, been his. LaCroix had brought him 
across, certainly. But Nicholas had never let go of his humanity. Not in 
eight centuries. No amount of cajoling on LaCroix's part had been able 
to wrench that humanity from Nicholas' grasp. He had clung to it, 
tenaciously. 
	Perhaps that was the key that had allowed the impossible to 
happen.  LaCroix didn't know. He suspected that, given time enough, Dr. 
Lambert would figure it out. She had no idea how dangerous such 
knowledge was. LaCroix may have saved them, the revenant as well, 
only to see them consumed anyway. They were playing with fire, all of 
them. And fire had an interesting way of getting out of control.

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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 31)
by Carrie Krumtum

	She looked at her wounds in the mirror while trying to apply 
new dressings. Tracy knew she had to get the new ones on before her 
dad showed up or he'd haul her back to the hospital in a hurry. She had 
too much to do to be stuck in the hospital again. She had to find out 
what had happened, what was happening, with Vachon.
	What about the glass in the bedroom? How are you going to 
explain that? she asked her reflection as that reflection flinched from a 
poke in a very tender spot. Placing the last piece of tape, she turned 
slightly to make sure the dressing was secure. All looked just as it had 
when she was released from the hospital yesterday. Well, she continued 
to argue with herself, you can tell him you tripped and fell into the glass.
	That's stupid, she chided her image as she finished cleaning up 
the old bandages and tied up the garbage bag. She had to make sure her 
father found no evidence of the dressing change. After all, he had been 
a cop, once. 
	Okay, she reasoned. What about just telling him you slammed 
the window shut too hard. Yeah, she smiled. You were in some pain and 
really didn't want to get up, so you just threw the window closed and it 
shattered from the impact with the wall bracket. Not bad, not bad. 
Should work. 
	At least, Tracy hoped so. She had just finished getting dressed 
when the doorbell rang. You're about to find out, girl. She headed to 
answer the door.

	 He looked so tired, Natalie thought as she closed the door to 
her car and turned the ignition. After leaving the Coroner's building, Nat 
had insisted on driving. Before taking him home, she stopped at the 
store in order to pick up some groceries since she knew Nick had 
nothing whatsoever for a mortal to eat at his loft. 
	The trip back to the loft was swift. Nick sat staring out at the 
sunshine. He had said he was worried about Miranda. That concern 
didn't dampen his joy, though. As Nick began to experience the world 
again, this time as a mortal, she hoped that his joy would be contagious. 
She needed that joy. 
	Natalie rounded the corner of Gateway Lane and pulled up 
behind Nick's building. She watched as he eased his six foot frame out 
of her car. He looked so tired, she thought again. They headed up the 
stairs after Nick input his security code.
	Opening the door, Nick held it for a moment allowing Nat to 
move past him. They both entered the loft.
	Natalie moved to the kitchen and placed the grocery bag she 
was carrying on the counter. She spotted the broken glass of the bottle 
again. The blood that had accompanied the glass was nearly gone now. 
Vachon, she thought with a sudden sick feeling. Swallowing away the 
discomfort, Natalie knew she would have to clean that up. Right now 
she wanted to make sure Nick was taken care of, then she would set 
about making his loft an appropriate home for a mortal man. 
	Turning to look for Nick, she saw that he had only taken a few 
steps into the loft and had stopped on the entry landing. He simply 
stood, staring. Natalie followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at 
the box she knew contained Joan of Arc's cross. The box had been 
upended and lay upside down on the floor, the cross on the floor half 
under it.
	Nick looked at the ancient artifact as if it would or should 
attack him, somehow. Natalie held her breath.
	After several long moments, Nick began to move. Slowly, he 
approached the cross and Natalie moved to follow him. 
	The sight of the ancient cross had startled Nick when he first 
entered the loft. The box it had been in must have been pushed off the 
table in LaCroix's struggle with the Restorer. Nick stepped hesitantly 
toward the cross. He couldn't feel the burning of his senses that the 
symbol had always caused before. The expected discomfort was 
completely absent. He continued to close the distance between himself 
and the cross until he stood directly over it. Crouching down, he 
reached to grab the box and lifted it away from the cross, revealing the 
whole thing. Setting the box on the table beside the sofa, he looked 
back at the cross. He reached down toward the floor, stopping just 
short of touching the ancient object.
	There was fear on his face. Here was an acid test, Natalie 
thought. He paused, as if waiting for the lightning to strike. When it 
didn't, she thought she heard him exhale -- Nick had been holding his 
breath as well.
	He brushed the surface of the cross with the barest tip of his 
fingers. The wood felt cool to touch. Picking the cross up, Nick raised it 
to eye level with one hand while caressing the surface of the ancient 
piece with the other. His face was filled with awe and wonder. And, 
something else....
	Natalie knelt beside him and placed a tender hand on his 
shoulder.
	"I have a chance now," he whispered.
	"A chance?" Natalie asked gently.
	Nick didn't look away from the cross that he held. He 
continued to explore the shape with his fingertips and nodded at it. "To 
obtain forgiveness," he said, his voice filled with an ancient reverence.
	Natalie realized that the man before her was the crusader, the 
soldier, the Holy warrior who had experienced all the horrors of war. 
Nick had talked very little about his mortal life before being brought 
across. Natalie had always suspected that there were deep wounds 
caused by those memories. 
	This was an ancient issue, a pain that he had never truly 
resolved. Somehow, Nick would have to come to grips with his faith. 
How he would do that, she didn't know.

	The sun had been completely up for over an hour. Vachon 
slept. Urs couldn't. She felt very disconcerted and wasn't quite sure 
why. Javier's injuries had been severe, yes, but he was completely 
healed now. With some rest, he would be fully recovered by nightfall. 
He had killed and nearly killed while in the grips of the hunger. Maybe it 
was the sense of his remorse that she felt. Even as she wondered about 
that she knew it was a lie. 
	All the old feelings of pain and loss seemed to be renewed for 
her. The sight of the dead boy, Vachon's close call with death, the 
mortal's brush with her own mortality ... all of it seemed to drag the 
memories of her own desire to escape her pain by accepting death. Now, 
death seemed like something she might never know. 
	The memories brought with them a loneliness that saddened 
her beyond words. Vachon, she asked his sleeping form silently, do you 
have any idea what you've done to me?

	The hotel clerk told him that no one was registered there by 
that name. No Miranda. Maybe she's changed hotels, Nick thought as 
he hung up the phone. God, he felt beat. Maybe there was a way of 
getting some help with finding her. Picking the receiver back up, Nick 
decided to find out....

	The club was completely deserted. She glanced around the 
empty room and sighed. The bartender and other employees would be 
arriving soon. As evening neared in Paris, Janette sensed a growing 
anticipation in her heart. There was much she could do to help. It was 
the waiting that bothered her. But then, that was always the case with 
her. Janette simply hated to wait....

	"That's great," Nick told the captain. "But I still think you 
should take it easy."
	Nick checked in at the precinct with thoughts of having some 
uniforms try to get a line on Miranda and was surprised to find that 
Captain Reese had returned to duty so soon. After asking Carter to do 
some quiet checking for him, he had asked to talk to Reese. He was 
pleased with this turn of events because it meant that his tour of duty 
as a watch commander was coming to an end and that would make his 
next move much easier to make, whatever that next move might be. 
	"You know I will," Joe told his night watch commander. "Are 
you okay, Nick? You sound tired." 
	"I'm fine, Cap," Nick said with as much conviction as he could 
muster. "It's just been a long night." That's got to be the 
understatement of this century, Nick thought. He heard Natalie groan 
from her place by the kitchen sink and grinned. He wasn't the only one 
that thought so.
	"Get some rest, Nick," his captain and friend told him. "You've 
earned it."
	I hope so, Nick thought, wearily.  There still remained so much 
to do; find out what Miranda was up to, what had happened to Vachon, 
how Tracy was recuperating, spend some precious time with Nat....
	Natalie. I truly hope so, he thought again.  

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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 32)
by Carrie Krumtum
	
	"I'm fine," Tracy told him. She smiled at the sound of his 
incredulity. Nick was so protective. Well, in the light of her last 
demonstration of police skill, Tracy couldn't blame him, too much. He'd 
freak if he only knew what had happened earlier this morning, she 
thought. It was all she could do to keep her dad from taking her back 
home, to the hospital or from hiring a private nurse to care for her 
twenty-four hours a day. 
	"I don't want to see your face at the precinct until I have a 
report from the doctor giving you permission to be back at work," Nick 
told her sternly.
	"Don't worry," Tracy replied. "Dad's not about the let that 
happen either. Between the two of you, I don't see how I could make a 
move without a doctor's notice." There was the old hint of exasperation 
in her voice.
	"And you think that's a bad thing?" Nick teased.
	"I don't need to be baby-sat," she insisted.
	"That could be debated," she heard Nick say, the smile clearly 
evident in his voice.
	She sighed audibly. "I don't have a chance, do I?" Tracy 
decided she simply couldn't stay irritated at the coddling. She knew that 
it was because they cared about her.
	"Not a one," Nick said into the phone. 
	"All right, already. I'll let you know when the doctor says I can 
come back on light duty, okay?"
	"Okay," Nick told her. "Until then, take good care of yourself, 
detective." 
	"I will, I promise," Tracy surrendered with a small smile to 
herself and a protective hand held over the sore incision site on her 
side. At least, she told herself silently, I hope that's a promise....
	
	Natalie listened to Nick's half of the conversation from the 
kitchen. She finished putting the dishes away and thought about the 
promise she and Nick had gotten from LaCroix. When LaCroix had 
shown up at the morgue Natalie was sure that she and Nick were going 
to have to fight for Nick's life. What had happened had surprised her 
almost more than Nick's reversion. 
	"You don't really think you can remain in Toronto much longer, 
do you?" LaCroix had asked. "I'm not the only one who will know 
you've reverted if you remain. As I've said, Nicholas, there are others in 
the community that will not take the knowledge of your reversion 
cheerfully. The Restorers will again be summoned."
	Nick had stared at his creator for a moment before replying. "I 
know."
	Natalie understood then. Nick could sense that LaCroix had 
not been threatening to bring him back across. Nick had already told 
him that he would die rather than be brought back into the darkness 
again. What had surprised her was the assumption on LaCroix's part 
that she and Nick would make the decision to do whatever came next for 
them, together. Somehow, between the initial confrontation in the loft 
and LaCroix's appearance at the morgue, he had come to accept the 
reality of Nick's love for her and the promise his mortality gave them. 
	"I will keep the community at bay as long as I can," LaCroix 
had told them, his expression unreadable to her. 
	"And the Restorers?" Nick asked.
	"As I told your young revenant friend, they will no longer be a 
problem, as long as you are discrete."
	"We'll need time," Nick had said.
	"How long?"
	"A few days."
	LaCroix nodded. "You will let me know."  This last hadn't been 
a request. Natalie bristled at the demanding nature of the statement. She 
felt Nick's hand tighten over hers, restraining her silently. 
	"Yes," Nick said quietly. 
	LaCroix gave him another nod ... and then was gone.

	Nick hung up the phone and turned to see that Natalie had 
finished in the kitchen and was leaning back against the kitchen 
counter, watching him. The look she gave him stirred his heart. The 
blinds were up and the morning sun filled the main floor of his loft with 
the daylight. Today was day one of his new mortal life. They had had so 
little time. Right now, he wanted nothing more than an opportunity to 
spend some time with her. But ... he was tired, so very, very tired.
	Natalie could see the extreme fatigue in Nick and it concerned 
her. After getting him back to the loft, she had fixed him a small meal. 
Nothing fancy, just some toast and oatmeal. Basic carbohydrates to 
help kick-start his metabolism. To her surprise, Nick ate a whole bowl of 
the warm oatmeal and said it tasted wonderful. He had even drank a half 
cup of coffee, with lots of cream and sugar. He made a face at the 
bitterness of the black coffee but found that, once doctored, he liked the 
flavor enough to finish what she had prepared for him.
	There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so much 
that they needed to talk about, so many feelings to share. Right now he 
needed rest. So did she. As she watched him approach her she tossed 
the dishtowel she was holding down on the counter and moved to meet 
him. 
	"You need to get some rest," Natalie told him when he neared 
her.
	"I know." Nick smiled that disarming smile that hadn't seemed 
to be affected at all by his reversion. 
	There had been a lot of things about Nick that Natalie had 
wondered about. Like, what parts of his personality were a result of his 
vampirism, if any. She had seen the drastic change becoming a vampire 
could elicit in a good man with her brother, Richard. She couldn't help 
but wonder if Nick's personality would change somewhat if he regained 
his mortality. If it had, it wasn't in any area that she had noticed. Not 
yet. But then, there hadn't really been time to evaluate much. Her 
thoughts were interrupted when Nick stepped closer to her.
	"I think you should try and sleep for a while. You've been a 
busy boy," she told him, her voice soft, quieted by his proximity.
	"I know," he replied, still smiling.
	She smiled back. "Aren't you going to say anything else except 
'I know'?"
	He shook his head and leaned toward her. Nick kissed her 
softly on the lips. She closed her eyes at the tender touch of his lips and 
felt the desire for him rise within her. This was the beginning of all their 
tomorrows. She would never let him go, never.
	Nick pulled away from her and looked into eyes filled with love 
for him. Natalie.... She was the reason he was able to attain his mortality 
again. He knew that to be the truth as surely as he had known the 
intimacies of the darkness. His breath had quickened and he could feel 
his heart begin to pound. God, how he loved her.
	She swallowed against her desire. They needed to talk. They 
needed to talk and to deal with their relationship. They needed to talk 
and to decide what to do and to deal with their relationship. All of that 
would wait, she told herself. Take care of him, Natalie chided. The rest, 
all of it, would wait. They had the rest of their natural lives. The thought 
made her smile anew.
	"Go on," she said firmly. "Get some rest. You have to take care 
of yourself, now more than ever." 
	He was about to say 'I know' when he saw the look of loss in 
her eyes. Natalie was giving up a lot in sending him to rest. She needed 
him as much as he needed her. She needed to talk, to be reassured. 
Everything that was happening to him was happening to her as well. 
Nick was only now beginning to realize what her love for him could 
mean. The promise of all that he had dreamt about was represented by 
that love. There would be time enough in the years ahead to learn what 
that love offered him. 
	She touched the side of his face gently. "Go," she ordered, 
nodding toward the stairs.
	He kissed her forehead and then nodded his assent. "I love 
you," he told her.
	This time, it was her turn. "I know," she said. 

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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 33)
by Carrie Krumtum	

	Vargo sat at his desk when he sensed the arrival. This was a 
new messenger. It must be, he thought. He didn't recognize the tremor 
he received from them. Concentrating on that tremor, he realized that 
there was a great deal of power emanating from this one. He looked up 
and met the eyes of a female vampire he instantly recognized from 
descriptions he had been given. He was looking into the face of Janette 
DuCharme....

	Miranda woke to find the light of the sun streaming into her 
hotel room and onto her face. She felt warmed by it. The sunlight had 
been a consolation from her reversion, the one pure thing that she had 
been given. Her anger was gone and she lay quietly, thinking about 
what had happened last night. So much had happened; to Nick Knight, 
to her, to Vachon....
	She would find Vachon today, long before sunset. There was 
much that she wanted to know from him. Rising from her bed, Miranda 
prepared to enter the world of vampires once again.

	Tracy had almost had to argue the point ad nauseum with her 
dad. Protectiveness was one thing, welcomed and understood. 
Overprotectiveness was another. She didn't want to be 'protected,' 
period. 
	After almost an hour of debate, some of it heated, her father 
had relented his threats of taking her back to the hospital. In fact, he 
had left her alone in her apartment with promises to call that afternoon 
to check on her. Tracy had insisted that all she really wanted was time 
to be alone for a while and to rest. And ... she had tried to rest. She 
couldn't, not very well. She probably wouldn't, she knew, until she 
found out what was happening with Vachon.
	"I had nothing but visitors while I was in the hospital. Some 
peace and quiet would be good," she had told her dad. 
	Peace and quiet, she thought as she left her apartment and 
walked slowly toward the elevator. Not likely, not soon, anyway.
	Tracy had decided to go to the church and look for Vachon 
there. Long before she could enjoy peace and quiet again, she would 
need some answers.

	Standing on the sidewalk outside of her hotel, Miranda 
wondered how she was ever going to find Vachon. This was a big city 
and vampires didn't exactly advertise their existence and locations in the 
yellow pages. 
	What remained of her vampiric senses still hummed, very 
softly, with her connection to Vachon. Miranda guessed that her 
chance meeting with Vachon last night was the reason why she could 
still feel the link, even faintly, today. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be able 
to follow it. 
	She walked up Charles to Yonge and made a left. She would 
head for the place where she had met him last night and go from there. It 
may be a wild goose chase, she told herself, but weren't wild geese in 
season right about now?

	Natalie climbed the stairs silently and looked in on Nick. He 
was sound asleep. Good. She stood in the doorway, watching him 
slumber. She had slept for only a few short hours on the sofa before 
waking again. There was a lot to think about today, a lot to deal with.
	Nick's reversion was only the beginning. They, both of them, 
would have to leave Toronto if Nick was going to be able to live without 
fear of discovery. The Restorers were as real as the Enforcers were and 
just as deadly. The fact that Natalie was a resister didn't help matters, 
either. 
	Leaving Toronto meant leaving the life she had known. She 
had grown up here, gone to school here, practiced medicine here.... 
Forensic science was her passion. Not only was Natalie good at it, but 
she found the work incredibly rewarding. When they left Toronto, what 
would happen with that? Most of Canada wasn't very densely 
populated and there wasn't exactly a great need for forensic 
pathologists outside of metropolitan areas. She figured she could pretty 
much kiss her career good-bye. 
	But, before she did that, there was a mystery that she would 
need her lab to help her solve. Taking another look at Nick's face, 
Natalie decided to let him sleep and go back to the lab. Nick's reversion 
may be the catalyst that ended her career in Toronto, but it was also the 
fulfillment of her most precious desires. She would give up a thousand 
careers to spend a life with him. At least this current job may provide 
them with some answers as to how he had regained his mortality.
	After leaving a note on the kitchen table, Natalie left the loft 
and headed back to the lab to run some more tests on the samples she 
had taken from Nick and Miranda. 

	"What do you want?" Vargo asked, petulantly.
	"Much," Janette said coolly. In the blink of an eye, she stood 
behind the Restorer with one hand pinning his head back and the other 
around his neck.
	"You will not treat me with disrespect. I, unlike your petty 
ranks, demand more," she hissed directly into his ear.
	Vargo swallowed uncomfortably. He realized his mistake as he 
sensed the anger in the other vampire begin to swell. Janette DuCharme 
exuded great power. Her femininity was a deception only to the careless. 
	"I understand," Vargo told her. 
	"Good." Janette let go of the Restorer and slowly walked back 
around the desk to take a seat opposite him. Once seated, she met his 
eyes evenly.
	"I bring you a message," she told him darkly.
	"From whom?" Vargo asked. He began to experience a sinking 
feeling at the answer.
	"Lucien LaCroix...."

	Tracy parked in front of the old abandoned church and turned 
off the engine. She took a few, not too deep, breaths and tried to calm 
her nerves. The pain in her side only reminded her of how dangerous 
dealing with vampires could be. Vachon had nearly killed her, would 
have if the other vampire hadn't arrived to prevent it. 
	She didn't even know the name of her benefactor. Not that it 
mattered, but ... it mattered. Tracy owed that vampire her life. Vachon 
owed Tracy an explanation. What with everyone owing everyone else, 
there was a lot of explaining to do. 
	Well, no time like the present, Tracy thought. Opening the 
door, she was almost grateful that the residual soreness from her 
injuries made the progress toward the church entrance slow.

	A hell of a thing to come back to, Reese groaned to himself as 
he stood in the alleyway off Yonge and stared down at the covered 
corpse of a teenage boy. Alvarez, the day watch commander, stood 
beside him and was taking the report from the uniforms who had 
answered the call about the body. 
	Nick's advice to take it easy wasn't going to be so easy to 
follow. Not if this kind of thing keeps up, Joe thought. Damn.

	"Hello?" Tracy called as she entered the church. "Vachon?"
	Urs recognized the mortal's voice instantly. Vachon was 
sleeping and should continue to sleep until he regained all of his 
strength. Deciding that dealing with the mortal herself was better than 
letting Javier's sleep be interrupted, Urs headed downstairs to intercept 
the detective.
	Tracy felt the arrival before she saw the vampire. She jumped 
involuntarily and was about to scold Vachon for sneaking up on her 
again when she realized that it wasn't Vachon at all. The vampire she 
was confronted with was the same one that had saved her life earlier 
that morning.
	"Uh, hi," Tracy began. She rolled her eyes at the lame sound of 
her first comment to the vampire. "I ... I'm looking for 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 34)
by Carrie Krumtum

~~~~~
	"One day ... you will," his mother told him with a wistful smile.
	"How will I know?" he asked, youthful earnestness his weapon 
of choice for this confrontation.
	Setting down her crewel, his mother folded her hands in her lap 
before fixing him with a kindly stare. This was her 'listen to me, son' 
posture. He knew better than to argue. He loved his mother too much 
for that.
	"There comes a time, for all of us, when we are given another 
to care for, to protect ... and to need. It's been that way between your 
father and I for almost twenty years now." She looked away from him for 
a moment and her eyes lost focus, as if she were seeing things that 
couldn't be in the room with them; old things, memories, both dear and 
hard to bear. "The blessing is in the mutuality of the need. If it is God's 
will, you will both feel the same. Duty is one thing...." She turned back 
to him, he felt his heart quail a bit under the new intensity of her gaze, 
"But real love is another.
	"You can love more than one," she sat with her back 
completely straight, "but those of us who have been blessed of God to 
know real love and caring would never wish to love another. Once 
you've known what it is to be truly loved and needed, not used or taken 
for granted, your heart is full. Even after a loss."
	"Is that how it was between you and my father?" he asked, 
less from the need to know than from a desire to hear his mother speak 
to him about his father some more.
	A sweet smile spread across her face. "Oh, yes." She looked 
into his eyes. "You are much like your father, Nicholas. I can see so 
much of him in you. You have his sweet spirit, his compassion. But, you 
also have his temper. You must learn to control your heart, my son. 
Guard toward the day that God will give you someone to love and care 
for. Guard it well...."
~~~~~

	The sound of the phone ringing woke him up. Nick started 
slightly and then relaxed. The images of his mother still swam in his 
head and heart. He waited for the sound of the next ring to stop then 
picked up the receiver.
	"Knight." 
	"Nick?" Captain Reese's voice asked. "Are you going to come 
in to work this evening?"
	He swallowed. His throat was dry and he could hear his 
stomach growling. He smiled. This wasn't the hunger, his body was just 
plain hungry. "What's up, Cap?"
	"We found a body this morning. With Tracy out and Ed gone 
for a few days, I'm slightly low on detectives. I'd really appreciate it if 
you could look into this one for me. Dr. Lambert has already done a 
preliminary and she said she'll have the report ready for you when you 
get to the morgue."
	Natalie? That brought him straight out of bed. What was she 
doing down at the morgue? Why didn't she wake him? He looked at the 
clock and found it was nearing six o'clock in the evening. He had slept 
for almost twelve hours. Man, he thought, this being mortal is murder.
	That thought made him laugh.
	"What's so funny?" Joe Reese asked from the other end of the 
phone.
	"Oh, nothing. Don't mind me, Cap. I've just had some things 
come up recently. Personal. Yeah, I'm coming in. I just need to shower 
and eat. I'll call Natalie as soon as I hang up."
	Joe nodded. It pleased him to hear Nick back in a good humor. 
It had been a while. "Thanks, Nick."
	"No problem."

	She stepped into the darkness of the sanctuary with caution. 
Although no longer able to see through the dark as she once had, 
Miranda could still sense the presence of others. Vampires. One of them 
was Vachon....

	"Hi," she said softly, ignoring the grin on Grace's face. 
	"I'll just go and leave you alone so you can talk," Grace said as 
she headed out of the lab, smiling ear to ear. It was obvious who was on 
the other end of the line by the way Natalie had said 'hi.'
	Natalie shook her head and tried to give her assistant what she 
hoped was a withering look. The only response she got was a wink and 
a grin. Grace had a way of making her feel embarrassed. It didn't bother 
Natalie that Grace knew about Nick or the love she shared with him, it 
was the obvious joy that Grace took in her feelings for Nick that 
embarrassed her. 
	"Hi yourself," Nick said. "When did you leave?"
	Nick's voice brought her attention back to the phone. "Didn't 
you find my note?"
	"I haven't gone downstairs yet."
	Natalie thought she heard a hint of fear in his voice. "I woke up 
this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. You were so tired, I didn't 
want to wake you," she explained. "How do you feel?"
	"Hungry," he told her.
	Natalie smiled. "I left plenty of food in the refrigerator. I think 
you should take it easy, though. Nothing too heavy. There's some cut 
up fruit and milk."
	"I'm really hungry," Nick stressed. And not just for food, he 
thought smiling. The memory of his dream made him ache. There was a 
sadness that his past had given him but there was a hope as well. If his 
mother had only known Natalie she would have been pleased. 
	The sound of Nick's voice touched something in Natalie and 
she found her smile was broader. "You have to be careful, Nick. I can't 
get away right now, I'm just finishing up a case...."
	"Yeah, I know."
	"You know?" Natalie responded, confused.
	"Reese just called. He wants me to come in and work on it. He 
told me you've already done the preliminaries," Nick explained. "I guess 
we'll both be working tonight."
	"Well, I couldn't tell my superiors why I was in the lab without 
saying I was on duty, now could I?" Natalie said, her voice a half 
whisper just in case there were other ears nearby. "What's your 
excuse."
	"I'm an easy pinch?" Nick offered.
	"I'll be sure to add that to my database. Note to Natalie, Nick 
Knight is easy,"
she teased.
	"Ah," he laughed, "the scientific method at work."
	"Is that skepticism I hear?"
	"Never!"
	The mention of science brought her back to the business at 
hand. Her voice lost some of its jovial tone. "I'll see you when you get 
here. And...." she hesitated. This case had the potential for causing 
problems. Deadly ones.
	"Something?" Nick asked seriously, concerned at Nat's 
hesitation and the change in her voice.
	"Yeah," Natalie thought she'd wait to tell Nick. She'd have a 
better time cautioning him face to face then over the phone. "It'll wait 
until you get here. Eat something first."
	"I plan on it," Nick said, his hunger growing.
	"Not too much, Nick. Take it slow," Natalie advised him. "You 
have a mortal constitution now. I don't want you to get sick. Your 
digestive tract has been idle for a very long time."
	"Are you trying to starve me?" Nick joked lightly.
	"No," Natalie replied, the grin back on her face, "just making 
sure you're still hungry enough to take me to dinner when you get 
here."
	"No problem there...."

	The evening brought the opening of the club. The first of the 
club's regulars began to arrive and LaCroix prepared for the next 
installment of his philosophical commentary. He had promised to give 
his son time. The message he would send would be a warning to all who 
would interfere. The creations of LaCroix were out of bounds. The 
lovely Janette should have already delivered a similar message to the 
chief Restorer. 
	There would be plenty of time for LaCroix to decide how best 
to deal with the whole situation once his son and his love were safely 
away from the community. Let them think they have escaped, he 
reasoned. Life is unpredictable, after all. There will be reason enough for 
them to need what he has to offer in the future.
	Fire, he reasoned, could be started or stirred from embers to 
life. And fire, it has been said, could burn away chaff and leave the truth 
behind. What was the truth? Did he even care?
	Not really. What use did his kind have of truth? They made 
their own. Nicholas had made his own, certainly. Now, LaCroix would 
just have to find a way to remain a part of that truth. Living in the 
darkness while Nicholas walked back into the light was going to make 
that difficult. A challenge worthy of him.

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 35)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"I know you're there," she said with as much forcefulness in 
her voice as she could muster. There was good reason to be afraid. Any 
vampire would know what she was almost instantly. They would most 
likely kill her. Miranda didn't mind the thought. She would welcome 
death. But ... not now. She wanted to get some answers first. That and 
drive a stake through Javier Vachon's heart.
	She watched the revenant make her way through the darkened 
room. She had heard about revenants but had never seen one before. 
There were some vampires who thought them only a myth. While the 
Restorers were real enough, they served much as the Enforcers did. 
They were a warning, a threat to those vampires who would try to be 
something other than what they were.
	With a silent sigh at the prospect of dealing with another of 
Vachon's problems, Urs stepped out of the shadows and turned to face 
the revenant.

	Natalie felt nervous. There really wasn't any reason to feel 
nervous, she told herself. It's only Nick. She took a deep breath.	
	Only Nick. Thoughts of him had flitted around her 
consciousness all day. While she tested the samples she had taken from 
Miranda and Nick, while she explained to her superiors about her early 
return to work, while she did the preliminary studies on the young man 
the 96th sent her, while she tried to do just about anything.
	It wasn't just Nick, either. Hadn't she just debated this with 
herself? Didn't she, just hours ago, tell herself she'd be willing to walk 
away from everything to be with Nick? Didn't she really want this? 
Want him? Want what a life with Nick would give her? Happiness? 
	So what was the problem? This is what you told Dr. Mary you 
really wanted, isn't it? Aren't you ready to be happy?
	Natalie looked up from the microscope and stared at a 
container sitting on the shelf in front of her. That was it. She was 
frightened of this happiness. And ... for a lot of reasons.
	What if whatever had happened to Nick wasn't permanent? 
What if his reversion wouldn't last? If he became a vampire again? If she 
lost him to the darkness? 
	No, she warned herself. Better to stop that right now. Nick was 
mortal. The cells she was viewing under the microscope right now told 
her that much. LaCroix may have been lying about leaving him to his 
new life. Nick could be discovered by another vampire at some time in 
the future and be killed. He could be killed by a bullet or knife or car 
accident or.... You're going to drive yourself crazy if you don't get a grip, 
Natalie chastised herself. When you love someone, you always run the 
risk of losing them. The fear will cripple you if you don't accept it and 
move on. Don't look at the mountain, just the next few steps. That's 
what Dr. Mary had taught her.
	But it wasn't that simple and Natalie knew it. Looking back into 
the lens of the microscope again, she tried to settle her thoughts down, 
to be rational about what she was afraid of. The image at the other end 
of the scope refused to come into clear focus again. Closing her eyes, 
Natalie remembered the look of need and passion and love she saw in 
Nick's face when she had sent him up to sleep that morning. A chill ran 
through her.
	She would have to face the force of his need and passion and 
love. She would have to face her own. She wanted to. God, how she 
wanted to. Her throat tightened against the fear that began to swell 
within her. Could she love him? Make love to him?
	The past few months melted away and she found herself 
standing in front of Nick asking him to love her. She had only been out 
of the hospital for a few weeks after the rape and she was asking Nick to 
give her something she knew he could and would not. The fear and pain 
in his face then helped her now. Nick loved her but was afraid of the 
harm he might do to her as a vampire, as a man. Natalie had been 
ravaged, brutally, and needed reassurance that she could be loved. The 
reassurance that, if he could, Nick would love her, had meant 
everything. 
	It wasn't that she needed reassurance anymore. Natalie knew 
that Nick loved her more than life. She would never doubt that. He had 
proven it over and over again. What she feared was the sensuality of 
their love. She could feel the touch of his cool hands on her skin as he 
held her that night, before the light of the fire and in the moonshine. She 
felt the touch of his lips to hers and knew that this much was safe, the 
kisses they shared then were mere promises. Now the promise had been 
fulfilled and Nick would ask her to give herself to him as he gave himself 
to her. Love, sex, sensuality, cherishing each other as man and woman 
must. She had wanted nothing more for them for so long ... too long it 
seemed. Now, the thought terrified her. 
	Damn Lavendly! 
	No.
	Natalie felt pain in her right hand and looked over the edge of 
the microscope only to discover that she was clenching the focus knob 
so hard that her fingers were white with the effort. No, she repeated as 
she forced herself to relax. Not the rapist, the rape. It was the 
remembered horror and the injury, the loss of innocence and freedom, 
the destruction of her willingness to step naked before anyone capable 
of hurting her again.
	But ... Nick simply wasn't capable of hurting her. Hadn't he 
proven that time and time again? How many opportunities had he had to 
take her, that she had offered him? No matter what the circumstance, 
Nick had been unable to harm her. This wasn't even about Nick. This 
was about her.
	Kelly had warned her that intimacy would be difficult. Natalie 
had told herself that she would willingly give up the intimacy to have 
Nick in her life no matter what. Could she, now, accept the intimacy he 
offered to her? Get beyond the fear? Learn to trust him? More than that, 
could she give him the intimacy he deserved? 
	Nick had given so much already, been through so much, she 
wanted to give him that part of her. She needed to give him that part of 
her.
	God, she thought, he'll be here in a few moments and I'm sitting 
here scared to death....

	"Who are you?" 
	Miranda stopped and looked at her questioner. The vampire 
that stood before her didn't seem too threatening but then, threat is 
relative. All vampires had the capacity to kill. The reason for that still 
burned within her mortal soul. 
	The mortal stood staring at her and had yet to answer the 
question. She decided to ask again. "Who are you?"
	"My name is unimportant," Miranda decided to say. She would 
let this vampire do whatever she would. Miranda was through playing 
the games. "I've come to see Vachon."
	"Take a number...."

	"Are you feeling afraid?
	"You should. Fear is a welcome ally. It heightens our senses, 
sharpens our focus, makes us sense the world in ways that the usual 
languid mindlessness disallows most of our lives. 
	"Fear can be constructive, instructive, destructive. For you, 
which will it be?
	"I advise the former two. Allow me to instruct you, to 
construct for you a purpose beyond the blindness of horror. Heed me 
and survive.
	"What is mine is mine. What is yours is yours. Be aware of the 
boundary and fear the rightful owner. Take what is yours alone and 
leave what you cannot use to another day. In this way we have 
survived time itself. In this way you may survive tonight and the nights 
that follow.
	"Don't be surprised should you transgress. You have been 
warned. The Nightcrawler claims what is his. The night ... and you ... are 
mine."
	
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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 36)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Tracy sat on her couch and drank her tea. The workman had 
just left after fixing the broken window and her mother puttered around 
her apartment trying to make sure there was a place for everything and 
everything was in its place. A part of her felt frustrated that her mom 
was so meticulous and a part of her recognized this aspect of her own 
behavior. Tracy was indeed a product of this side of the genetic pool.
	Looking back down into her tea, Tracy allowed her thoughts to 
stray back to Vachon. The vampire who had saved her life earlier that 
morning had met her at the door of the church.  Finally, after Tracy had 
reassured her that all she wanted was to make sure Vachon was all right 
and after threatening to remain at the church until being allowed to do 
so, the vampire had let Tracy take a peek at his sleeping form. He hadn't 
looked any more pale than usual, although, he had looked small, almost 
like a boy. It had taken all her self-control to keep from running to his 
side. 
	What the other vampire had told her made Tracy ache for him. 
He had been in a fight with another vampire. That vampire had wounded 
him in the heart and the injury had driven rational thought from his 
mind. He had become the essence of all the vampire horror stories and 
legends. Vachon had become a mindless killer in search of blood, human 
blood, to feed his unearthly hunger. 
	The mental image made her shiver. Tracy had felt his hand pull 
her head back and knew that death was just a fang away. Vachon's fang. 
Up to now, she had been willing to be seduced by the dark and romantic 
spectre he formed in the night of her Toronto home. Vachon had 
represented danger, intrigue and a sensuality that stirred her to her very 
depths. Now, for the first time since she had known Vachon, Tracy was 
truly afraid of him. 
	A tear slid down her face as she realized her loss.

	Both vampire and revenant looked up to find Vachon standing 
on the balcony with his arms folded over his chest. Miranda found 
herself instantly angry at his flippancy.
	"I'll take a number," she spat at him. "Right out of your hide."
	Vachon lost the grin that had graced his face as the wave of 
intense anger reached him across his link. He had expected the anger 
from Miranda. What was surprising to him was the anger he sensed 
from Urs. He sought out her face just as she turned away from him.
	Urs turned toward Vachon's newest visitor and placed a hand 
on her shoulder. Urs knew she was considerably stronger and could 
physically restrain the mortal if need be. She was hoping there was 
another way for this one to vent her anger rather than to provoke an 
attack that could injure her. "You don't want to do that," Urs told the 
mortal.
	Miranda turned to glare at the female vampire who stood in 
front of her and shrugged the hand off her shoulder. "How the hell do 
you know what I want?"
	"Miranda...." Vachon began from the balcony.
	"He's not worth it," Urs told the visitor. The comment caused 
both Vachon and Miranda to pause.
	"What?" Miranda and Vachon asked, simultaneously.
	"I know you intend to try to kill him. I know that you will only 
be hurt if you try. No one is worth your life. No one." Urs met the 
mortal's gaze squarely. She had to convince this woman that she was 
telling her the truth if she was to prevent any harm from coming to her.
	"I don't give a damn what happens to me," Miranda insisted, 
taking a quick glance up at Vachon to make sure he hadn't gone 
anywhere. "As long as he gets what's coming to him."
	"So," Urs could sense a great deal from this revenant, 
including her resolve. There was also something very familiar about 
what she could sense from this ... Miranda? Isn't that what Vachon had 
called her? "You're willing to become like him? To be the killer, the 
taker? To appease your anger? Is your hate that strong?"
	"Yes," Miranda nearly shouted back. "He deserves to die for 
what he did to me!"
	"Yes, he does." 
	
	"Nat?"
	She hadn't heard him come in and the sound of his soft voice 
startled her. Natalie jumped.
	"Natalie?" Nick said quietly as he advanced into the room. He 
hadn't meant to frighten he but ... he would have sworn that her eyes 
had been closed as she bent over the microscope. "Are you okay?"
	"Yeah," Natalie replied a little too quickly. "Yeah," she 
repeated. "I'm okay. I was just ... thinking."
	"About?" Nick stopped a few feet away from her and leaned 
down on the lab counter with his elbow in an attempt to get a better 
look at her face. There was something going on. Nick could feel her 
anxiety. He opted on keeping a little distance until he understood just 
what. Fears and threats warred with his mind. Had LaCroix called or 
threatened her? Was there something she found in the samples that 
bothered her? Was it something to do with the new homicide case Joe 
Reese wanted him to work on? What?
	She swallowed. This wasn't the time or place to try and deal 
with her intimacy issues. "I think we have a problem," Natalie said as 
she turned on the stool and looked up at him. For the moment, she 
couldn't think of anything else to say. 
	A look of utter fear leaped instantly into Nick's face. He 
couldn't stop it. His first thought was that Natalie had found something 
in the blood samples. Something that indicated he wasn't really human, 
not really free from the darkness. He swallowed and tried to find his 
voice.
	"What kind of problem?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper, 
laden by his fear.
	Natalie recognized his concern and knew instantly what he 
must be thinking. She hadn't meant to be so cryptic and a wave of guilt 
swept through her at the look of fear on his face. "It's this case," she 
commented swiftly, trying to ease any fear he might have of his 
reversion status. She really didn't want to talk about how sure she was 
of his complete reversion and of the emotions that conviction stirred in 
her. The urge to run from any further discussion of her discomfort won 
out and she cleared her throat as she turned even farther on the lab 
stool and motioned toward the draped body that occupied the 
examination table. 
	Nick followed her movement and looked at the covered body. 
"What is it?" he asked as he pushed away from the counter and took a 
step toward the corpse. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he did. At 
least it wasn't his reversion. He thought he could hear Natalie exhale 
behind him. Resisting the temptation to turn around again, Nick 
approached the table and walked to the other side before looking back. 
He was more than a little surprised to see that Natalie looked relieved by 
their distance.
	
	The female vampire's last statement stopped Miranda instantly. 
Why was this vampire agreeing with her? Miranda had spent all day 
tracking through the streets of Toronto following the very weak link 
that still vibrated between herself and Vachon. The trail had led her to 
an alley where a murder had occurred during the night, an apartment 
complex on the east side of the city and finally, here. She had done 
almost all of her traveling on foot and was tired. Now she had a vampire 
standing in front of her agreeing with her. Weird didn't even come close 
to how she'd describe this situation.
	Miranda's eyes narrowed as she gave this new vampire her 
undivided attention. "How do you know?" 
	Urs looked into the revenant's face. "Vampires share 
knowledge in more ways than one."
	Vachon was having a hard time deciding what to do. He was 
confused by Urs' easy acceptance of Miranda's anger. Confused and 
hurt. Urs had saved his life and Tracy's as well. In doing so she had 
given him her blood and had taken his. By taking his blood Urs had 
learned about what had happened in Knight's loft and how close to the 
edge of death he himself had actually come. Shouldn't he at least get 
some points for that? Why was Urs so angry? 
	The memory of her request for him to take her, to kill her, came 
back as he listened to Urs deal with Miranda on the floor of the 
sanctuary below him.
	Miranda tried to quiet her mind for a moment. Silencing the 
rage and determination wasn't easy, but she concentrated on the tremor 
she felt from the vampire in front of her. There was a familiar strain to 
the tremor. Familiar and yet ... different. She listened to it for another 
second before understanding dawned. "You're his, aren't you?"
	Urs nodded, "Yes, I am."

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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 37)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"Young Caucasian male, approximately sixteen to 20 years of 
age. He has a broken neck but that's not what killed him," Natalie recited 
as she stood. 
	Nick's eyebrows shot up and he looked expectantly at her, 
trepidation apparent in his face.
	"He died of exsanguination," she informed him.
	Nick's guts began to knot and he was very glad he had taken 
Natalie's advice earlier and had eaten lightly before leaving the loft. "Do 
we know who he is?" Nick asked as he watched Natalie closely.
	Natalie shook her head. "Not yet."
	"Wounds?"
	She approached the body staying on the opposite side of the 
table. Pulling back the sheet, Natalie revealed the head and upper chest 
of the young victim. She place one hand along side of the man's jaw and 
tilted the head slightly to the right, revealing two long and jagged gash 
marks on his neck, the typical covering wounds a vampire would use to 
hide a kill. 
	"Where was he found?" Nick asked, this time his concern for 
what Natalie was suggesting very evident. He bent to take a closer look 
at the wounds.
	"In an alley off of Yonge, just a few blocks from the loft." 	
	His head snapped up and Nick met Natalie's eyes. "Vachon."

	The last of the latenighters were slowly leaving and the club 
was nearly deserted now. Janette sat at the bar and sipped her own 
drink, lost in thought. There were few things she regretted, especially 
about the last few weeks. When she had first started to feel the change 
in Nicholah, she wasn't sure what to do. She had flown to Toronto with 
the idea of trying to rekindle a relationship with him. Before she could 
announce her presence she had been inundated with the strength of his 
love for Natalie across their link. She had also sensed him changing. 
	It had taken her only a few days to realize that he was reverting 
and was completely unaware of it. Janette had decided then to return to 
Paris without seeing Nicholah. She would help him if she could. There 
was danger that she knew he was unaware of and he needed to be 
warned. He also needed to know what was happening to him. Sending 
another revenant to him seemed like the best way to accomplish both 
things. LaCroix would have been less than helpful and she simply 
couldn't bear facing Nicholah again knowing.... Well, the love for his 
mortal doctor would not wane. Not in all eternity. Janette knew her 
Nicholah too well to delude herself about that.
	By taking care to deliver LaCroix's message to Vargo, Janette 
was able to finish the work she had started by sending Miranda to 
Toronto. LaCroix had told her that Nicholah had indeed reverted, fully. 
Of course, LaCroix wasn't happy but he was accepting, as she had 
hoped he would be. Although, the ease with which LaCroix did accept 
that reality was a surprise.
	She stirred her drink with one lace-gloved finger and then 
placed the dampened finger in her mouth. Janette's heart was heavy. 
She had done what she had set out to do. That fact did little to soothe 
her feelings of loneliness. What she had wanted was another chance to 
love Nicholah again. What she had gotten was a separation from any 
link she may have had with the roots of her life before Robert. Well, all 
that is, but one. And LaCroix wasn't about to leave his precious son, 
now, was he?

	Miranda felt uneasy and confused. Why would a creation of 
Vachon be willing to agree with her so readily? There was a faint tremor 
of shared anger for Javier Vachon between them. Obviously, there was 
more to this whole thing than met the eye. 
	Looking back up at Vachon, who remained standing on the 
balcony landing above in stunned silence, Miranda thought she saw 
unease and confusion in his face as well. This vampire's words were as 
much a surprise to him as they were to her. That fact made Miranda 
extremely curious to know why.
	"And the fact doesn't make you happy," Miranda told her 
newly found confidante as she returned her attention to the female 
vampire.
	The revenant's comment hadn't been a question. Urs 
understood that it was the logical conclusion. "Sometimes, no."
	Vachon had heard enough. The honesty in Urs' last remark 
stung. He disappeared from the balcony and moved faster than light to 
stand immediately behind Urs.
	"Urs?"
	Before turning to face Vachon, Urs stretched her arm out to 
Miranda, palm forward, in silent restraint. A 'let me handle this' gesture 
designed to give her a few moments to deal with her master before 
letting Miranda take her own fate into her hands.
	Miranda understood what the female vampire wanted and, for 
reasons she couldn't quite identify, felt the need to give this woman her 
chance to deal with Javier. Better get it all out in the open now, she 
thought darkly. You're not going to have another chance once I'm done 
with him.

	As Nick entered the precinct house, he was surprised to find 
that the captain was still there. Without invitation, Nick entered Reese's 
office. "What are you still doing here?"
	Joe looked up at his watch commander and smiled, "Is that any 
way to talk to your superior?"
	Nick extended his hand and Joe stood to take it. There was a 
quiet understanding between them. Joe was pleased that his detective 
was finally looking happier after everything he and Natalie had been 
through. Nick was pleased that his captain was back in action, even if a 
bit too zealously. They both smiled and shared the moment.
	Joe let go of Nick's hand and gestured toward the chair on the 
other side of his desk before reseating himself. Nick was one of the 
people in his life whom he had learned to trust. It was Nick who had 
made sure that he didn't go over the edge with the whole Manning 
thing. Somehow Joe knew then that Nick wouldn't find his assertions 
about Manning crazy or over the edge. Joe felt that Nick would 
understand and he hadn't been disappointed.
	Nick sat down in the chair the captain indicated and grinned. "I 
may just have to tell Denise."
	Joe grunted. "She knows. Believe me," he repeated for 
emphasis, "she knows. And, if I don't get home pretty soon she's liable 
to come in here and drag me out of this office by force."
	"A good woman," Nick offered, stifling a laugh. 
	"Yeah," Joe said more softly, leaning back in his chair. "I'm 
very lucky."
	"Yes, you are," Nick replied. "Seriously though, you should be 
home."
	"You're worse than my wife. And about luck," Joe interjected 
in an attempt to change the subject, "what did Natalie have to say about 
our John Doe?"
	Nick turned to the business at hand. He would have to handle 
this like he'd handled other vampire killings before, with Natalie's help 
and creative report writing. The fact that Tracy was out would make 
things easier. This was the last time he hoped he'd have to do this.
	"Natalie thinks it was an animal of some kind," Nick offered.
	"Is she sure?" Joe asked. If word of an animal attack that close 
to the center of the city got out, there'd most likely be a public panic.
	"That's what it looks like."
	Joe nodded grimly. "No ID yet?"
	"No," Nick replied. "I'll work on that tonight. I have a few 
contacts among the kids who live on the street and I think I might be 
able find out who this kid is. I'll also try to verify if there have been any 
sightings of large animals in the area."
	"I hope for everyone's sake that whatever did that isn't still on 
the prowl. It gives me a headache just thinking about dealing with 
something like that," Joe said as he rubbed his forehead.
	"Yeah," Nick offered, "I know what you mean." Believe me, he 
thought. He looked at his captain and tried to look stern. "Go home, 
Cap. I'll handle this. The desk sergeant told me the rest of the precinct is 
pretty quiet. Go home to your wife and take it easy. With luck, she won't 
skin you alive if you make it home soon."
	Joe was smiling again. "Yeah," he said as he rose and took his 
coat off the coatrack that stood in the corner behind his desk. "I am a 
lucky man and, so far, my luck has been holding. No surgery, no further 
problems, a good job and a good wife and family. I need to thank my 
lucky stars and the good Lord above, I guess." He finished putting on 
his coat and headed out of his office. He stopped to drop his hand 
down on Nick's shoulder on his way out. "I hope you're as lucky as I've 
been, Nick."
	Nick looked up at his captain and returned his caring glance. "I 
do too," he said and then waited for Reese to head home. He remained 
where he was sitting and thought about his luck. The impossible had 
happened and he was mortal again. Everything had worked out, at least, 
so far. The Restorers were off the track and LaCroix was leaving him 
alone. He still needed to find out what had happened with Miranda and 
Vachon, though. With some luck of his own, he wouldn't have to come 
in contact with anyone unaware of his circumstances in the vampire 
community to do it. 
	Before he had left the morgue, Natalie had told him how 
worried she was that this case would bring him in contact with more 
vampires. That would mean he ran a risk of being killed by one of them 
now that he was a revenant or, worse still, having another Restorer 
summoned to deal with him. 
	Standing, Nick decided to go and find Vachon. His dinner with 
Natalie forgotten for the moment, he hoped that the danger this case 
posed was all that was bothering Nat. Deep down, he knew that wasn't 
the case and that realization was even more frightening to him than the 
thought of dealing with more vampires.

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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 38)
by Carrie Krumtum
	
	Vachon almost wished he could go back and deal with the 
Restorer again. It'd be easier than this, he told himself. He sat at the bar 
in the Raven and sipped his drink.
	"I thought we'd been through this," he had told Urs.
	"You know it's not that simple. This seems to be the way you 
do things, Javier. Nick was right, someday you're going to have to face 
up to things," Urs had said. There had been no bitterness in her voice. 
Only a sadness that made him hurt to hear it.
	"And today's the day," Miranda had chimed in, open hostility 
still etched into her features.
	He faced both women, both victims of his thoughtless action, 
and felt the urge to be anywhere but where he was. So, he had come 
here. Several hours and a whole bottle later, he didn't feel any better. 
	Nick was right, Urs had said. Knight and his infernal sense of 
responsibility. Vachon had tried to be responsible. He had tried to help 
Knight and his lady friend. He had gone to assist the mighty LaCroix, 
hadn't he? Damn! It didn't seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter. It 
wouldn't matter if he had saved the Mother of God, he brooded. 
	There was no way to pay them back. No way to give either of 
them what he had taken. They knew that. Hell, they should understand. 
They had been there, done that. So why were they still so angry? He 
had done what vampires do.
	That doesn't make it right. 
	This new thought was accompanied by a mental image of 
Knight. Damn him. Ever since Vachon had met Knight he had felt like 
four hundred years of guilt and damnation had been tattooed to his 
forehead. Dealing with Tracy, Urs, Screed and now Miranda had only 
reminded him of his so-called responsibilities. His master and the Inca 
were dead. Knight was a revenant now. Why did he still feel like he 
needed to answer to them? Truth was, he didn't HAVE to answer to 
anyone. He liked it that way. Carefree and on his own. That's how he 
had tried to keep it. 
	That's the way he would let it be from here on out, he resolved. 
Let them have their pity party. Who needs it? Who needs them?
	The answer his heart offered to that last question startled 
him....

	"Why would you want to give your life up?" Urs asked the 
revenant. Miranda had managed to regain her mortality against a 
universe of odds and she was throwing it away. Even though she knew 
it was none of her business, Urs couldn't help but wonder why.
	Miranda looked into the kind eyes of her companion and 
thought about what to tell her. The kindness in those eyes surprised 
her. You would never expect to see that depth of compassion in the 
eyes of a vampire, she told herself. I never really saw that in my own 
eyes. The compassion she saw there reminded her of Nick Knight. "You 
sound like Knight," Miranda finally said.
	Urs nodded. "I admire him. He understands many things. More 
than most. You should listen to him."
	She shook her head looking down at her hands. "But I don't 
want to listen to him. You don't understand. I can't. It's ... it's hard to 
explain."
	"Tell me," Urs urged gently. 
	Miranda stared back into the vampire's face. She wanted to 
trust this one. She needed to trust someone but ... how to explain? 
	The answer, she realized, was a simple one. Silently, slowly, 
with conviction and need in her face, Miranda raised her wrist to Urs 
and offered the vampire her life's story.

	"Kyle was cool, man," Tommy told him. "He knew what was 
what and didn't do it to nobody."
	Nick nodded. He had returned to the alley where the boy's 
body had been found. By the time the uniforms had answered the call 
that morning, no one who could identify the body was anywhere near 
the alley. Life on the streets was best lived out of the limelight and away 
from the police. Nick's own life as a vampire helped him to understand 
all too well. He felt a closeness to this part of the city that seemed 
absent in most of the department. There were a few exceptions but ... 
not many.
	Consequently, Nick had a large network of informants among 
the street people and it took him less than two hours to find out who the 
victim was and what had been seen. Fortunately, Kyle had been alone in 
the alley when he was attacked. No one saw Vachon, if it indeed was the 
younger vampire as Nick suspected. The animal story would serve to 
dispel any further blood sucking myths and prevent attention by the 
Enforcers, so Nick relayed the concept and urged everyone he talked 
with to pass the news along. By morning, the entire street population 
should be telling the story of how Kyle was attacked by an animal and 
there would more than likely be a dozen eyewitness accounts to offer 
the department.
	The mystery of the victim's identity solved, Nick turned his 
attention toward the killer. He headed for the church that was the home 
of Javier Vachon.

	Natalie looked up from her work at the sound of a light knock 
on the lab door. She rose and headed over to give her visitor a hug. She 
had been told over and over again not to hesitate to call if she needed 
anything, anytime, anywhere. After a long internal debate with herself, 
Natalie had decided that she did need to talk about this and with 
someone other than Nick. This issue wasn't something that she wanted 
to let fester. There was too much on the line. The look Nick had given 
her when he left the morgue a few hours ago had told her that much. 
Nick knew there was something going on, he was just too polite or, 
more likely, afraid to ask. Natalie didn't want anything to come between 
her and Nick. Not now. Not when they had everything to look forward 
to. And everything did mean everything....
	Kelly Sourtory hugged Natalie back and then looked around 
her. "I've never made a house call to a morgue before," she said, 
resisting the urge to shiver.
	Natalie grinned. "It's not much, but I call it my work home." 
	Kelly responded by chuckling slightly and then turned back to 
face her client. She had to be the Intervention Therapist now, not the 
idle gawker. This particular survivor had been a real challenge for Kelly 
and she was pleased that Natalie was asking for her assistance rather 
than suffering Kelly's attempts to help her. When a survivor is ready to 
deal with issues related to their attack, they are ready. "So," she began 
in an all business tone, "tell me what's up."

	LaCroix watched the young Spaniard from the privacy of the 
studio. He owed the young vampire a note of thanks, at the very least. 
Right now, it didn't appear as if thanks would be appropriate 
consolation to the youth. Consolation of another kind would probably 
be more adequate. 

	Urs heard and felt the arrival. She sat next to Miranda's form 
and decided to wait for him to make his way into the room. She had 
done enough intercepting for one day. Let him come....
	The church was dark. It was hard to discern what his vampiric 
sense was telling him. This remnant of awareness was significantly 
diminished now and Nick wondered if, given time, the sense would fade 
all together. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the quiet hum of 
his link to the vampire community. There. He could feel another's 
presence. No. Not just one, more. Two. He sensed two individuals. 
	Opening his eyes, he headed for the back room where he knew 
they awaited him. Nick silently prayed that he would find who and what 
he expected to find. If one of the individuals he met in that back room 
happened to be a vampire unaware of his reversion, he could be walking 
into the jaws of death, literally....

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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 39)
by Carrie Krumtum

	"I don't know what to do about it," Natalie confided to Kelly, 
who sat across from her on the other side of the conference room table.
	"What do you want to have happen?" Kelly asked. Natalie was 
dealing with possibly the toughest issue a survivor of rape would have 
to overcome: trust. The question of intimacy was only half the problem. 
The underlying issue, the real fear, was the inability to trust. Natalie was 
frightened. 
	Again, Kelly was struck by Natalie's extraordinary strength. 
While that strength was usually an asset, for the victim of rape it could 
be a trap. It would be very tempting for Natalie to convince herself that 
she didn't need the close intimacy that her relationship to Nick offered 
her. She could refuse to face her fear and walk away from the depths of 
emotion real intimacy offered. No need to trust anyone but herself. No 
need to worry about letting anyone get close enough to hurt her again. 
Kelly had hoped that Natalie could battle beyond the temptation to 
isolate herself. From what she was seeing, that's exactly what Natalie 
was trying to do.
	What did she want to have happen? Natalie sat with her hands 
clenched in her lap and thought about that. The obvious response was 
that she wanted intimacy with Nick. God, she'd dreamt about it often 
enough. But, this wasn't just about making love to him. Kelly was right.
	What really frightened her was letting Nick in, all the way. 
Letting him know everything there was to know about her, physically, 
emotionally, on a level that Natalie had never let anyone know her 
before. Was she willing to give that much of herself to him? Did she 
really want that?
	Before the attack, Natalie felt she would have said yes. Now, 
the part of her that could reach out in blind trust was missing ... or 
scarred. That was it. She was scarred. She looked back up into her 
therapist's face. What did she want? She already knew, she had always 
known. "I want him. I want a life with Nick," she said at last.
	"With everything that goes along with it?" Kelly prodded.
	"Yes," Natalie whispered.
	Kelly nodded. So much for hurdle number one. Now, on to 
number two. "What choices do you have to make to do that?"

	Vachon felt LaCroix's presence beside him and looked up. 
LaCroix nodded to the bartender and waited for a goblet to be set down 
in front of him. The ancient took a sip before turning to face him. 
	"I owe you a debt of gratitude," LaCroix said quietly. His voice 
was uncharacteristically void of condescension.
	"Just about everyone does," Vachon said, unable to hide his 
bitterness. "But you're the first person to actually say anything."
	Vachon waited for LaCroix to become angry. To his shock and 
amazement, the ancient vampire responded by raising an eyebrow and 
nodding his head in understanding. 
	"How well I know the feeling," LaCroix told the youngster. 
"The absence of true gratefulness when one has sacrificed is hard to 
bear even at the best of times."
	Setting down his drink, Vachon met LaCroix's gaze, but only for 
a moment. The depths of the ancient's stare was unnerving, to say the 
least. "You really do understand, don't you?" he decided to say as he 
turned back to his drink.
	"Yes," came the reply.
	Taking a sip and then swallowing, Vachon turned back to the 
vampire. "Well, you're welcome."
	LaCroix nodded again and took a languid sip from his glass. 
Vachon watched him and wondered what he must be feeling under that 
studied facade. Knight, his precious creation, had reverted. Even in the 
face of that reality, LaCroix was laying claim to him. His monologue 
tonight was evidence and warning of that fact. Vachon guessed that 
LaCroix would feel Knight's desire to become mortal again was a form of 
ingratitude. And, in a way, it was. 
	LaCroix set his glass down and searched out the eyes of the 
Spaniard.
	Vachon sensed LaCroix's scrutiny and looked up. What he saw 
in the ancient's face this time made his cold blood run colder. There was 
a threat in those eyes that denied argument.
	"I trust our understanding will lead you to conclude to leave 
anything involving Nicholas to me," LaCroix intoned.
	Vachon swallowed again, involuntarily. "No sweat," he said. 
"I've got problems of my own to worry about."
	Giving the young vampire one last look to be sure he 
understood fully, LaCroix allowed himself the barest of grins. "Indeed, 
you do."

	"Urs?" Nick asked as he stepped into the room. After looking 
around the corner and finding only the two women there, he 
approached them.
	Urs simply looked up at him. Knight had reverted. She could 
hear his heart beating strong and sure. Even though he was no longer a 
vampire, she could still sense his presence, just as she had sensed 
Miranda's. There was something different about Nick Knight, though. 
Something ... purer? 
	Nick knelt down beside Miranda. He thought she was sleeping 
until he touched her. Her hand was so cold. Alarmed, he looked up 
toward Urs. "Did Vachon do this?" he asked in a tone more harsh than 
he would have liked.
	"No," she told him quietly.
	Looking back down at Miranda, Nick watched as her chest 
rose and fell. He checked the wrist of the hand he touched for a pulse. 
There was none. She had been brought back across. Miranda was a 
vampire. 
	"It's what she wanted," Urs told him calmly. Her face was sad 
as she spoke. "For reasons that you wouldn't understand."
	Nick's eyes narrowed as he met her gaze. "Try me."

	Kelly listened as Natalie talked about her fears, as she tried to 
work through the choices she would have to make, as she explored the 
possibilities and began to face the realities they would bring into her 
life. 
	There was a very real fear of being unable to experience sex 
and the joys that intimacy could bring, with Nick or anyone. There was 
the fear that all couples face when they commit themselves to one 
another; will the other partner still be able to love them when all the 
secrets are told? There was a fear of life changes. Giving up 
independence is hard to do, especially for women like Natalie. 
	Her life would change, in fundamental ways, if she committed 
herself to a lifelong relationship with Nick. Natalie was just beginning to 
realize what that meant for her. 
	Kelly listened, Natalie shared.
	In all the years that she had been dealing with victims of rape 
and assault, Kelly had learned to see the signs of ultimate success or 
failure to survive. Some victims remain victims, they never get beyond 
the terror an assault can cause and stagnate in a world of fear and 
isolation. Others find a way out of the trap and become true survivors, 
getting beyond the boundaries of their fear and taking the world on 
again. When she had first met Natalie in the hospital after her rape, 
Kelly wouldn't have laid much on Natalie's odds for making it this far. 
Still....
	More often than not, it had been Kelly's experience that, given 
enough time and a guiding ear, with support and lovingkindness from 
family and friends, a survivor will work through their emotions and 
fears, arriving at the root issues and resolving to face their lives with 
courage and honesty. She was very pleased when she began to hear 
that resolve in Natalie's voice. Natalie was going to be one of the lucky 
ones. She was going to make it.
	
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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 40)
by Carrie Krumtum

	He walked along the waterfront. The waves lapped against the 
shore with relentless rhythm. It would only be a few minutes now. He 
took a deep breath of the moist air. 
	His second sunrise. Would she be there? If there were a prayer 
in him, he would have prayed for it. He wanted her to be there ... with 
him. It would be comforting. For both of them. He couldn't help but 
wonder who would comfort Vachon in his continuing darkness....

	The message lay on her desk. She read and reread it, trying to 
decide what she should do first. Sometimes, you just need to act, she 
whispered to herself, chiding. No more time to think. Do something. She 
did....

	Urs stood on the roof and waited for Miranda to join her there. 
Meeting Miranda had reawakened her own self-awareness. For how 
long had she longed? How long had real eternity been denied her? 
Eternity comes in many ways, they had agreed. Some less painful than 
others. Together, they would meet it today....

	Alcohol had a way of completely failing to remove bitterness 
from one's heart. Who cared about what he felt, anyway? Apparently, 
no one. He had run out of time. Time to brood, to nurse his bitterness, 
to drown his discomfort, to argue with himself. The sun would rise 
soon. Time to make up your mind, old boy. 
	There were two options: go home or not. That was it. 
	It's MY home, he finally decided. I'll take it just like it is and to 
hell with them if they don't like it. He headed back to the church....

	Denise Reese placed the cup of decaf coffee in front of her 
husband and headed back to the stove to prepare the hot bran cereal he 
was to have for breakfast. Changing Joe's diet hadn't been easy and he 
still balked at the absence of eggs and sausage from his breakfast table. 
But then, she would much rather have a complaining spouse than no 
spouse at all. 
	She smiled at his groan. He had taken his first sip of coffee. Joe 
hated decaf. Last night Joe talked about how good Detective Knight 
had looked. 
	"I can't put my finger on it," Joe said. "It's like he's a new man 
or something. He actually had rosy cheeks. I didn't know until tonight 
that Natalie Lambert was back at the morgue. I really think she's good 
for him, Dee."
	"Like I'm good for you?" she had joked. 
	The mirth had faded from her husband's face as he looked into 
her eyes. "Absolutely."
	Denise looked over her shoulder and her smiled grew larger as 
Joe groaned again. Yes, she was good for him but, he was good for her. 
As a matter of fact, he made the whole thing worthwhile. After twenty-
five years of marriage, Denise knew what Nick Knight felt when he 
thought of Natalie Lambert. Her memory wasn't so rusty. She could feel 
it still, as she cared for Joe ... groans and all.

	What was it that Urs had said? You wouldn't understand?
	She had been right. He didn't. He was trying to. Stopping to 
turn his face to the cold wind that blew in off the waters of the lake, he 
tried again to make sense of it. The truth was, he felt no remnant of it in 
him. None at all.
	Miranda had insisted that, even after her reversion, she was 
plagued by the hunger for blood. Listening to her describe the need, the 
deep set desire to drink and know, to take and be filled, to kill if 
necessary, terrified him. Was that what he was destined to feel? Until he 
finally died a mortal's death? But, he felt no hunger, no bloodlust. He 
hadn't since his reversion.
	Urs had insisted that Miranda was different from him ... in 
many ways. Perhaps she was right. The bloodlust had never really 
waned for Miranda. She woke with it as a vampire the first time and had 
lived with it throughout her reversion. The need for blood had defined 
her life as a vampire and then had driven, first her fear, then her rage as 
a revenant. What she wanted, more than anything, was freedom from 
the bloodlust. Her reversion hadn't given her that. In her mind, there 
was only one way to be free.
	Being brought back across gave her the capacity to deal with 
Vachon before setting herself, finally, free. He looked up at the graying 
sky. 
	There had been no amount of argument he could offer. What 
right did he have? Hadn't he felt exactly the same way? What had 
stopped him from choosing Miranda's solution was his sense of ... 
what? What was it that he felt so deeply? Destiny? Fear of damnation?
	The more he wondered the more he was certain it had 
everything to do with Natalie. If God was able to see through the 
darkness and have mercy on a vampire, He had done so. How else could 
he explain it? How else could a man from the thirteenth century be 
brought into the twentieth? How else could he have been able to meet 
the reason he now lived in the sun? Natalie, he believed, was not just a 
chance meeting, an accident. No, she was more; much more. She was his 
answer. 
	Swallowing back the wave of sudden emotion, he hoped that 
he could be her answer as well....

	The blackness of the sanctuary suited his mood and he 
entered the church using the main entrance, not the window in the attic 
as he was accustomed. That entrance was too close to the source of his 
current problems. 
	Lost in thought, he didn't sense his peril until it was far too 
late.

	She parked and looked down the waterfront as she got out of 
her car and shut the door. There was only one person on the walk along 
the lakeside this early. 
	He heard the sound of her stride as she approached him. 
Mentally, he smiled. Even the cadence of her walk was engraved on his 
human heart. There wasn't any need for vampiric senses this morning. 
All he needed was his honest love for her. He turned to face her just as 
she neared him.
	Natalie stopped. The breeze blew his hair around his face. She 
had always loved his hair; soft and golden. Beneath it lay eyes so blue 
that she was sure God had used them as a palette for the depths of seas. 
In those eyes she found love and warmth ... and apprehension.
	It was only a day ago that he had asked her if she would watch 
all the sunrises God would give from now on with him. She had said yes. 
There had been no reservation when she had. Those came afterward. It 
was only when she began to feel her own desire for him that she felt the 
fear begin to steal over her. That fear had threatened to overwhelm her. 
When Nick had visited her in the morgue last evening, she had been 
overcome by it. He had felt it in her, she was sure. 
	Nick had busied himself during the shift with finding Miranda 
and dealing with the vestiges of Vachon's injuries after the battle at the 
loft. When he had called a few hours ago, she had been gone from her 
desk. Kelly's visit had helped her to put her fear in perspective. Oh, she 
was still scared. Frightened out of her wits, truth be told. But wits had 
very little to do with what she felt for Nick. This was a matter of the 
heart. And her heart ached with her love for him.
	That love welled up within her as she gazed into those eyes, 
that face. The emotion played across her features and she refused to 
fight it. This was the time to step away from the pretense and fall. If Nick 
would catch her, she would be safe. If not.... 
	She never had time to wonder about the if nots. 
	Taking her into his arms, Nick held Nat tightly. The love and 
fear on her face were so plainly visible. He wanted to wipe that fear from 
her heart. Natalie had no way of knowing that he was aware Kelly 
Sourtory had visited her at the morgue. The switchboard operator had 
mentioned it offhandedly when Natalie didn't answer her extension. 
There would be only one reason Kelly had seen Natalie. It had never 
occurred to him, he admitted, to wonder how Nat might react to his 
reversion in the light of the attack. After all she had been through, was 
still going through, of course she'd be afraid. Afraid of the future they 
might share, the depth of the emotion they shared now and very real 
possibility that he might not always be there for her. That was the real 
issue, he thought. Would he always be there for her? How could he 
convince her? What promises could he make that wouldn't sound 
hollow? Patronizing? Presumptive? 
	Perhaps there wasn't a perfect answer. He was certain that 
there wasn't. He wasn't immortal now. Death, sickness, life ... all could 
ravish and take their toll on him. Still, there remained the reality of their 
mutual love and need. Nick had shared his regrets, his fears, his desires 
with Nat. She had shared her terror with him. They weren't a Rockwell 
painting. They were real. Today was real. And today held very real 
promise and fears. Natalie would have to deal with some of those fears. 
So would he. He would walk through it with her, if she'd let him.   
	Now, in the growing light of the dawn, he held her safe against 
the coming of the day.

	As the fangs slid from the flesh of his neck, Vachon fell to the 
floor heavily. His head and senses, all of them, had been bombarded 
with the emotion and presence of her being, with her pain and anguish, 
with the knowledge that he was responsible for it all. A part of him cried 
out to be free from the torment. It wasn't to be.
	He lay, reeling, on the cold tiles of the church foyer. The pain 
increased. 
	Across their link, now strengthened by Miranda's attack and 
Urs' proximity, he felt the excruciating pain they both suffered as the 
light seared their flesh. They must be on the roof! 
	"NO!!!" he shouted in agony, unable to move. The sound 
echoed hollowly in the expanse of the sanctuary. The sun had risen....

	She stood in his embrace and allowed him to simply hold her. 
The glow of the sun surrounded them. The warmth of the rays began to 
dispel the chill from the breeze as it moved past them off the water. The 
sound of his beating heart drummed in her ears. Silent tears moved 
down her face. Nick had caught her.

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 41)
by Carrie Krumtum

	Natalie sipped her coffee and stood looking out the window. 
Nick had left her there after buying her breakfast to make up for the 
dinner they missed last night and promised that he'd return as soon as 
he could. The loft was quiet and she felt the need to wait on the silence. 
They had said a lot to each other that morning. Now, what remained 
between them was an understanding deeper than any they had ever 
shared. 
	She had told him about her fear and what she really wanted. 
Nick told her how scared he was that his reversion might not be 
permanent. At least that was something she could help him 
understand....
	"The samples contained the same marker," she explained. "The 
levels of indigenous endorphins in your bloodstream were almost three 
times human normal. The samples I had taken from you before your 
reversion contained no indigenous endorphins at all. I reran it just to be 
sure."
	"Endorphins?" Nick asked, still confused as he drove them 
back to the loft.
	"You know, the chemical neurotransmitters that block pain and 
provide the sense of pleasure or euphoria. Everything I've learned from 
you indicates that vampires don't produce their own. My guess is that 
they must ingest them through the blood of other humans."
	"That would help explain why the lust can be so addictive. 
Why the need is so strong."
	Natalie nodded. "That and the difference between you and 
Miranda. Her levels were very low."
	Nick looked at her. "How low?"
	"Half the normal level."
	"Do you think the level in my blood will drop like that?" he 
asked, hesitantly. He clenched the steering wheel, preparing for an 
answer.
	She had thought about what the data told her. "I don't think 
so. And I think I know why.
	"You told me that Miranda says she's never been free from the 
bloodlust, right?"
	He nodded. "Yeah. That's what she told me. Urs said she could 
read as much in Miranda's blood. She said it was caused by the way 
Miranda was brought across the first time."
	"That makes sense, when you think about it. Miranda was 
brought across by accident. You, on the other hand, were always 
intended to be brought across. There's a difference in the amount of 
blood left in the victim and in the amount of blood transferred from the 
vampire to the mortal for the mortal to be brought across."
	"So you're saying that because I wasn't drained as badly and 
because LaCroix gave me more vampire blood, I felt the bloodlust 
normally, not with the same intensity?" Nick reached for understanding.
	"I think so," she reasoned. "Miranda's bloodlust was more 
severe, perhaps far greater as a revenant, because she wasn't brought 
across properly to begin with. That's not true of your experience. If what 
the tests show and the complete absence of the bloodlust you now 
experience are any indication,  you shouldn't have to worry about it at 
all. 
	"Your endorphin levels will probably drop slowly as your 
system equalizes. With proper food and rest, you'll become more normal 
and more quickly. I'll need to run further tests to be absolutely sure. But 
then," she smiled, "I plan on making sure I have an abundance of 
samples from now on."
	"Oh good," he smiled back, "the rest of my mortality spent as a 
human pincushion."
	They laughed together. It was a small victory in a quiet 
moment. They would find their way from here. They would take care of 
each other. 
	Now, watching the sun move across the midday sky, Natalie 
wondered about tomorrow. They had agreed to submit their 
resignations tonight. They would submit them both together; one with 
Joe Reese, the other with Dr. Washington. Nick had said that he wanted 
to continue to work as a cop. He wondered if the Ontario Provincial 
Police had openings in cottage country. The idea made her smile. 
Natalie liked the idea of moving up to Drag Lake. Dr. Mary Titus had 
already issued her an invitation. Maybe family practice would be a 
change for the better. Natalie had seen enough of death to last her a 
lifetime....
	Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the elevator 
mechanism engaging. Nick was back. She walked to the kitchen and set 
her coffee cup down on the counter. She turned just as the door to the 
elevator was pulled aside and Nick entered. For some reason she had 
expected him to be carrying something. He had left her with the 
impression that there was something he needed to get and had only 
said, "You'll see," to her inquiry. 
	"I thought you went to get something," she told him as he 
entered the loft. She watched him remove his jacket and drop it on the 
banister as he moved toward her. 
	"What makes you think I didn't?" he asked, smiling. As he 
neared her he took her into his arms and gave her a quick kiss on the 
lips and a hug. Just like a husband returning home from work, Natalie 
thought. She liked the way that made her feel. A lot. 
	Hugging him back, Natalie let herself luxuriate in the sense of 
security and warmth his embrace gave her. His arms, now fully human, 
seemed every bit as strong as they had when he was a vampire and 
endowed with superhuman strength. A part of her would always think 
of him as her strong knight. 
	Almost reluctantly, she pulled away enough to look him in the 
face. "So, what did you go get?"
	His smile broadened and then began to fade into a look of 
earnest tenderness. "First," he said softly, "you have to do something 
for me,"
	He traced the line of her jaw lightly with his fingerstips, 
watched the play of sunlight on the auburn strands of her hair, visually 
mapped the soft curves of her mouth and listened to the soft sound of 
her breathing. Natalie was beautiful. Looking into her eyes, he found a 
patient and quiet expectation. With a measure of new self-discovery, 
Nick realized he was nervous. Would she? There would never be 
another now and right now this is what HE wanted. More than 
anything.
	"You have to agree to become my wife."
	The look of complete sincerity on his face and the almost 
boyish fear made her want to both laugh and cry. Marry him? Did he 
just ask me to marry him? What a way to....
	Her thoughts were driven from her mind as Nick leaned forward 
to kiss her. His mouth captured hers and he poured forth his feelings for 
her with such intensity that she felt her legs begin to give way. Those 
strong arms encircled her and she allowed herself to melt into the kiss, 
giving herself over to it desperately, telling him with her body and her 
soul that she understood his question and sending him her answer. 
	The kiss moved from a desperation of need to a depth of 
passion that made her heart begin to pound with ever increasing force. 
Nick's hands moved into her hair and down to the small of her back, 
pulling her against him. 
	Pulling his lips away from hers and burying his face in her hair, 
Nick whispered, "Will you? Will you be my wife, Nat?"
	She held her eyes closed and clung to him for long seconds. 
Nodding her head into his shoulder because words were failing her, 
Natalie let the emotion run through her. To be Nick's wife, to be his for 
the rest of her life. They had talked that morning about tomorrow and 
the day after that, resignations and where they would go as they left 
these lives behind. She realized now that Nick was making sure they 
would share everything in all of their tomorrows ... as man and wife. 

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 (Epilogue)
by Carrie Krumtum

	She sat at the table and stared down at the cold tea in her cup. 
Quiet melodic strains poured forth from the system speakers that 
supplied music to the house. Her teacup sat next to the flowers she had 
been given and the envelope postmarked Aug. 3, 2048, from Paris. They 
would bury him today. 
	Their lives had been wonderful, rich and full. It seemed odd 
that she could feel so old and yet so complete. Her heart hurt with her 
loss and yet her spirit seemed warmed. There was a lot to do today, she 
told herself. A lot she had to face. Richard and Don would be there to 
pick her up for the funeral in a few short hours. Fleur was upstairs with 
her own young ones taking a nap before they all had to leave.
	Natalie had prayed for fifty years, ever since they had married, 
that she would go first. It was selfish, she knew. This was a part of her 
life that she never wanted to have to face. A life without Nick.
	It was inevitable, she told herself. His thirteenth century heart 
just couldn't handle all the cholesterol in a twenty-first century diet. She 
should have made him eat better. She simply couldn't bring herself to be 
too strict. There had been so many things that he hadn't ever 
experienced before and that he loved so much. Peanut butter, chocolate, 
marshmallows....
	She laughed briefly as she remembered the first time Richie had 
made his father eat s'mores. Nick had almost made himself sick with 
them. Their oldest son sat next to his father and together they ate two 
whole boxes of graham crackers, a whole package of marshmallows and 
God only knows how many chocolate bars. Richie must have been 
barely seven at the time. Or maybe he was eight....
	In the fifty-one years they had been married, they had 
managed to raise three children and remain safe from the threats of 
things that go bump in the night. Natalie looked at the envelope that lay 
on the table in front of her again. This was only the fourth such 
envelope they had ever received. 
	The first was sent the day of their wedding. They had a 
beautiful ceremony. They said their vows to each other in full sunshine 
by the shore of Drag Lake. Nick had purchased the cabin from Myra 
Schanke and gave the deed to her as a wedding present. They built the 
new house next to the cabin that year. Nick had said he couldn't bear to 
see it torn down. It served as a guest house for visitors.
	 The second envelope came on the day young Richard was 
born. She gave birth to their first child barely nine months after they 
were married. Natalie believed that they had conceived Richard the very 
first time they made love, the same day Nick had asked her to be his 
wife. There was something special about that thought. Nick had insisted 
on naming their son Richard Eric Knight. Since then, they had given 
birth to Fleur Grace and to Donald Nicholas. Natalie had always 
mourned the fact that Dr. Mary had been too ill to bring Donny into the 
world. She died just three days after Donny's second birthday. 
	The third envelope was sent after Nick's OPP patrol car was 
struck on the highway and he almost died after the accident. Nick had 
insisted on working even though there was no need. He had always 
insisted that the man he was when he married her was the man he was 
always meant to be. The accident was the one and only time Nick was 
severely injured on duty. For that, Natalie had always been thankful. 
Two weeks later and one spleen shy of a full organ compliment, Nick 
came home to find an envelope just like this one waiting for him. After 
listening to the contents of the envelope, Nick carefully placed it in the 
attic with all the other things he dared keep from a life lived in the 
darkness.
	Her reminiscence was interrupted by the deep tones of a voice 
that had refused to remain a part of their past, but also refused to take 
away their future. The disc she played in the sound system was labeled 
with the call letters of the Paris station that carried the Nightwatch 
broadcasts for the past half century. It had become, oddly enough, a 
global hit with its mysterious host and nightly airings. Natalie listened 
as LaCroix's voice spoke to her....
	"Sometimes that's all success is ... having the right person 
believe in you. Faith can move mountains, they say. Faith can raise the 
dead. Indeed, I have seen it with my own eyes.
	"And love is more powerful still. The love of a man for a 
woman ... of a father for a son.... There has never been a force in all of 
heaven and earth so great as this.
	"There will never be another like you, Nicholas, should any of 
us choose to love another. If ever...."

End