Date: Sun, 30 May 1999 10:54:00 -0400 From: James Marshall Subject: "Kind of Woman" (01/02) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU This is my attempt to answer the "Song" Challenge. In the course of the story, the only part of the series that I rewrote was the last ten seconds of "Last Knight". I didn't want to do another "Last Knight" continuation, but sometimes these stories take on a mind of their own. The song in question is "Kind of Woman" by Stevie Nicks on the "Bella Donna" album. "Forever Knight" and its characters belong to TPTB. These characters are not mine, and I intend to reap no monetary reward for their use. Thanks to Sue Clark for beta-reading. I give my permission for Mel to archive on the fanfic site. For permission to archive anywhere else, all you have to do is ask. * * * * * * * * * * "Kind of Woman" (01/02 ) by J.T.Marechal, 5/30/99 ...and you are listening to CERK. I will be your guide during these darkest hours, my children, taking you through the night. And what shall we talk about? Hmm? Every life that touches another leaves some mark, some sign that the encounter occurred. Usually, we don't even notice ... or, if we notice, we don't remember ... unless there is pain. "Temptation falls in your path. No hesitation. Why, you ask." * * * The smooth, sensual voice, honed through years of practice, reached out of the speakers and captivated the blond vampire, as usual. "Nick, tell me again why you listen to that show. I keep forgetting." Nick turned to Suzanne and said "I'm not entirely sure myself. Memories, perhaps." "Oh," the young woman replied. "Memories. With you, that could eat up the entire night, and I have to get some sleep if I'm going to defend my research to the trustees in the morning. If I don't, I could lose my lab time and that means finding your cure would be a lot harder." "You know I could arrange ...." he began. Suzanne put her fingers to his lips. "You know that's not what I want. I know you well enough to know that if you regained your mortality by using anything that came because you are a vampire, you'd only end up wondering if the price of your mortality was too high." "I don't regret meeting you that night," Nick said in a slightly hurt tone. "Are you sure?" Suzanne asked. * * * Nick had been trying, on his own, to gather research on how to cure his vampirism. Once Natalie had finally given up, he used what he had learned from her to continue looking, often involving researchers by giving them a bit of information, learning their response, and then wiping their memory of the conversation. Nick told himself it wasn't fair to them, then consoled himself by adding that it was definitely safer ... for everyone. Especially for the young woman he'd gone to see several times. She was one of the brightest of the researchers available to him now that he was back in Toronto. Suzanne Winters, Ph.D., was working late again. None of the other research assistants could understand why anyone would choose to work the night away. Suzanne smiled to herself. Let them wonder. A sound, like a whoosh of air, announced his presence. It was definitely time to let him know the truth. She felt her own heart beat faster and wondered if he could hear it, too. She turned slowly. "Dr. Winters," he began as always. She decided to continue the charade for a little while longer, eager to hear what new piece of the problem he wanted to learn from her. She would tell him later. After the obligatory cock-and-bull story to explain why he was here and what he wanted to know, they spent the next three hours discussing possible retrovirus cures for a persistent and, as yet, unbeatable condition for which he would not give a name, but only a list of symptoms: extreme photosensitivity approximating but more severe than albinism, specific and highly restricted nutritional needs, and so on. Never once, even when he knew he would wipe the person's mind, did Nicholas Baron mention the word "vampire." So Suzanne did. Nick began his usual patter. "Suzanne, listen to my voice ...." Suzanne usually did listen. The more she listened, the more the echoing aural afterimage fell away. She noted with some satisfaction that she appeared to be gaining more of a resistance to the man's hypnotic voice as time passed. He had reached the point where he was telling her she would forget everything they talked about. She looked down, then quickly looked up, raised her head and kissed him. Nick sputtered and tried to regain his "control" over her. "So, Nick, were you ever going to tell me that you're a vampire, or what?" * * * "So, Nick. Off in dreamland again?" Nick looked up and saw that Suzanne was standing and already had her coat. "I'm sorry," he said, ducking his head like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "You were saying?" He rose and went to help her don her coat. Suzanne smiled. "I was saying goodnight. I really have to get home and get some sleep. See you tomorrow night at the lab?" "I'll be there. I promise." Suzanne kissed him deeply, a kiss full of promises. "Don't forget," she said softly, then turned and left him to listen to the voice on the radio, the one ghost from his past that she knew he could never share with her ... his Natalie. * * * So tell me, gentle listener. If temptation fell in your path, would you forget your obligations to your friends, to your lover, to your family? What kind of temptation could lead you away from all that you have known? And what about those you would leave behind to pursue this temptation? "You have another waiting at home. And yes, she matters, to you. Kind of woman that'll haunt you, She matters to you." * * * "What do you mean?" Nick asked, the shock and disappointment strangling the words until they were barely understandable. "You're giving up on me ... on us?" Staring out at the Seattle night, Natalie ignored the barb. She had long since grown wise to that ploy. She took another sip of the blood ... the human blood ... while Nick watched. She felt his anger rising to take the place of his shock. "Nick," she said. The tone in her voice indicated that her love for him hadn't lessened, and this confused him. "Nat ... why?" "It's been twenty years since you brought me across," she said sadly. "In those twenty years, I've learned a great many things about what we are. And about what *you* are. Nick, you know that I've subjected myself to the same regimen I prescribed for you ... and I've become so close to human again that I could even eat a little solid food or walk outside on a cloudy day without smoldering ... at least for a little while. And you still can't do those things." "But that's because ...." "Because," Nat interrupted him, "because you still drink the blood whenever you can, sometimes even sneaking a drink when I'm not around." "But Nat, I have to do it. I ...." "I haven't flown, or used my vampiric senses, or used my strength or speed in over fifteen years, because that is what gives the vampire part of me its strength. And you have. You want to find some miracle cure that'll change you back in an instant, and you want to be able use the abilities of the vampire until that miracle cure is found. You don't want to work at it; you want it handed to you on a silver platter." Nick had no reply. He could deny what she said, but it wouldn't help. He waited. "I don't want to become mortal without you," she continued, "and I haven't seen you putting any effort into becoming mortal. If we are going to stay vampires, then I choose to accept what we are and deal with it." She punctuated her statement by taking another sip of the blood. "This is the twenty-first century, Nick. I don't have to kill to get human blood. No vampire does." "But it's wrong. At least the cow's blood means no human has to suffer." "That's your problem, Nick. It's not that you're a vampire. It's the suffering that you force upon yourself for what you were. You can't let go of the past. But if you don't let go of the past," she said, looking straight into his eyes, "you might not be able to hold onto me, here in the present." Nick's pained look nearly broke her resolve, but she had prepared herself for that as well. Twenty years with him had prepared her for all of his tricks and games. He really didn't have that many tricks up his sleeve. He used his last ace, saying "Nat, I love you. Why are you doing this?" * * * "Kind of woman that'll haunt you, She matters to you." So talk to me, dear listeners. Tell me what temptations you have allowed to take you away from what really matters. Tell me the choices you made that now haunt you. * * * end of part 1 "Kind of Woman" (02/02) by J.T. Marechal, 5/30/99 Disclaimers, etc. are in part 1. * * * Nick drove through the city of Toronto in a 2012 Daimler Cruiser, the only car ever to surpass the trunk space of the 1962 Cadillac. He sometimes missed his old car, currently on display in a museum funded by the De Brabant Foundation, but times change. There were times when driving around the city at night was enough to calm his mind and his soul. But not tonight. Almost without thinking about it, he turned on his radio to hear her voice, even knowing that it would cut him as much as LaCroix's voice used to, all those years ago. * * * But it's not your fault, you say. We must all bear responsibility for our choices. Back in one of the many wars of the twentieth century, a young man went to a philosopher and told the philosopher of his dilemma. He could either stay in his home country and fight, or flee to safety with his ailing mother. If he stayed, he might very well never see his mother alive again, frail as she was. If he went, he would always wonder if he should have stayed to fight for his homeland. He asked the philosopher what he should do. The philosopher, surprisingly wise for one of his kind, said only one word to the man. He said to the man, "Choose." I say this to you as well: you have your choices, and you must live with consequences of your choices. As must we all. "You didn't mean to meet her, you cry, Oh, but the sun goes down every night. She came to you when you were alone, Oh and yes, she matters to you, Kind of woman that'll haunt you." * * * Things had been strained between Nick and Natalie since she had given up the search for a cure. Their discussions on the matter broke down into fights. Even moving back to Toronto had not helped. They spoke less and less. Eventually, they were not so much lovers, as roommates. They spent more and more time apart. Nick began to look on his own for the answers, using what information he had picked up from Natalie over the years. His search led him to the staff of Ontario Medical Research, and a young researcher named Dr. Suzanne Winters. Two months later, Nick once again returned home mere minutes before sunrise. Natalie was in her favorite chair, reading contracts of some kind. Nick wasn't exactly sure what she was doing, only that she was doing it with Janette's help instead of his. "Back late again, I see," Natalie said, not looking up from her contracts. Nick paused a moment, then replied "I was doing research." Nat put down the papers and decided to be blunt. "Who is she, Nick?" "What?" Nat knew he'd heard the question. She merely waited. "A laboratory researcher doing work with retroviral treatments. She's a 'resister' like you were. She has offered to help me find a cure. I didn't know she was a resister when I first went to her, and she hid that from me until I had revealed so much that I'd either have to kill her or trust her. I chose to trust her." "Is she in love with you, as I was when we played that same scene?" "I don't know," Nick replied in all honesty. "I think she might be." Nat stood slowly and walked toward him. When she was close enough to look into his eyes, but not so close that she had to crane her neck to look up at him, she asked "Do you love her?" "I love *you*," Nick replied. He moved to embrace her. Nat turned away. "You didn't answer me, Nick. You care for her. I can see that now." She gave a short laugh. "And so, now I'm the one who plays the role of Janette in this little triangle." "Nat. Don't." "Nick, you're repeating the same pattern. I'm no longer the shiny, idealistic mortal woman who longs for the love of a vampire that wants to be human. I've accepted in myself what you can't accept in anyone. And so, you found another person to take that role, someone to whom you can bemoan your fate. Someone who will put up with your ambivalence toward what you are." "Ambivalence? I still want to be human, Nat. That hasn't changed." "You don't want to be human, Nick. You want to have the power of a vampire without its weaknesses. You *like* being a vampire. It's the guilt for your past sins that you want to erase." Nat took a deep breath. "And if you insist on dragging this poor woman into this with you, I can't live here any more." Their argument continued well into the day, but when darkness fell once more, Nat left. Nick later found out that she had bought the old CERK radio station. Nick and Suzanne became very close as they worked together on his cure. * * * "Kind of woman that'll haunt you, She matters to you." And does she matter, this woman? Who matters more? The one you left behind or the one you have now. Both will haunt your dreams, I'm sure. And how could it be otherwise? But remember children, that it's not just the tempted who makes a choice. The one who tempts him also makes a choice. The temptress offers something, otherwise there would be no temptation in the first place. And the one left behind? Does she also make a choice? And if she does, what choice does she make? "I promised myself ... a long time ago It would be difficult to let you go." * * * Twenty-five years ago, Natalie thought to herself. Nearly half of her lifetime. And still she recalled the details with perfect clarity, thanks to the memory-enhancing ability of the vampire. She was near death. Nick had taken too much. As she hovered in that state, she was amazed that she could hear every word spoken by Nick and LaCroix. As they argued, she realized that LaCroix was right. Life was indeed a precious gift. Dying together should not have been an option. But that's what Nick was going to do. She struggled with all her might against the lethargy of her dying body, trying to find some way to let them know what *she* wanted. And then it happened. She could return to her body in only one way ... as a vampire. But even that wouldn't save her unless a vampire was there to feed her from his own veins, to let her survive those first crucial moments. She fought ferociously to wake up, to regain consciousness, to live. Nick said "You are my oldest friend." He was kneeling over her. LaCroix was behind him with some sort of weapon. "Damn you, Nicholas," he said as he raised the weapon. "No," she whispered hoarsely. Both vampires stopped moving. LaCroix smiled. "It seems, Nicholas, that your doctor friend has made the decision for you." Nick ignored him. "Nat? Can you hear me?" "Not . . . death," she managed to whisper before losing consciousness again. "She doesn't know," Nick said. "She doesn't realize what it means." "On the contrary, Nicholas," LaCroix replied. "Thanks to the search for your cure, she probably knows more about what it means to be a vampire than any of us did when we were brought across. Shall I do the honors?" he added with just a touch of a leer. "No!" Nick said sharply. "I'll do it. Perhaps it's for the best." "It will certainly prove ... intriguing," LaCroix said, still smiling. Between one breath and the next, he was gone. Nat was an apt pupil in the ways of a vampire. She gave herself five years to learn everything that a vampire could do, so that she would know what she would have to do differently in order to become human again. Nick was torn. He felt guilt due to Natalie's transformation. But there was also hope, as she began to work on their cure. And passion, now that they were the same. "Passion," Nick told her once, "is what the vampire offers. Love is a human thing ... a mortal emotion." And Nat knew that with the way Nick held humanity as his ideal, they could either become mortal again to love each other, or she would have to watch him find a mortal who could love him in the way that she no longer could. * * * And why should it be difficult to let go of one who has betrayed you? To let go of the person that you *knew* would leave you eventually? What is it about love, about passion, about the bond between parent and childe that remains when all you want to do is cut the ties and free yourself? When talking of love, poets speak of the sun, a glowing ball of hydrogen and helium ninety-three million miles away. They speak of the moon, a chunk of lifeless rock, littered with the trash from a previous generation's "grand exploration". They speak of the Hell of separation. And they speak of Heaven .... "If not at least within the touch of my fingers, It was close to being in heaven. Kind of woman that'll haunt you. Heaven." * * * Through the bond that Nick had with Natalie, they never lost the sense of each other's presence in the city. It was comforting, in a way, Nick thought, to know that someone who cared for you was nearby, even if you never saw them. Nick could not remember sharing that kind of bond with LaCroix. And Janette? She never forgave Nick for bringing her back across when she was dying as a mortal. On those rare occasions when they were in the same city, she blocked him out as best she could. Perhaps, in another hundred years, she would come around. Natalie, he knew, never stopped caring for him, even if she couldn't stay with him any more. And what of Suzanne? She loved him; of that he was sure. She had such faith in him, in her ability to find his cure, and in their possible future together. They had had their setbacks, but she never stopped trying. But then, neither did Nat, until she said *he* had stopped trying. * * * "Kind of woman that'll haunt you. To be in heaven." And what is Heaven? Is it lounging around on clouds, playing harps and singing the praises of God for eternity? Mindless bliss? Why do poets use Heaven as a good thing to compare to love? Love is hard work, my children. It takes time, and tears, and passion, and above all, patience. No lover is perfect. We can only hope that we have enough time to realize this, instead of throwing away the reality of love for the beautiful illusion of temptation. "Kind of woman that'll haunt you." * * * Nick found himself driving down the street on which CERK was located. He pulled into the station's parking lot, wondering if this was a mistake. Wondering if he cared if it was a mistake. He thought back over all that had gone before, from the night he woke up on a coroner's table, to the night he brought Natalie across, through the long years of training Natalie as a vampire and the longer years of searching for a cure, to the night he met Suzanne, to the night Natalie left him, to tonight. He entered the building and made his way to the broadcast booth. >From the shadows, he watched Natalie through the glass. He knew she knew he was there, but he wanted to watch her for a bit without having her be forced to acknowledge his presence. He listened as she wrapped up her show. * * * "To be in heaven. I know; I know." And so which is the more valuable? Love? Or temptation? Some would say that would depend on whether you are asking Adam, Eve or the Serpent. In the end, though, only the coldest of hearts would deny that love is worth struggling for, worth fighting for, worth living for. The sun will soon rise on a new day ... and another choice to make. * * * Natalie switched off her console, letting the morning DJ pick up from his own booth elsewhere in the building. She rose and unlocked the door to the booth, allowing Nick to enter ... if he chose. The End. Comments, questions, critiques and flames may be sent to . ~ James, NatPacker & FK Mercenary