Date: Sat, 22 Jun 1996 14:19:59 -0500 (CDT) From: gryphon@execpc.com Subject: Revelations Revelations A Forever Not story by Diane Echelbarger *italics* ~song lyrics~ "Uh, Nick," Schanke asked, "you got any plans for tomorrow night?" "We've got tomorrow night off," Nick reminded him absently, most of his attention on looking for the street sign. They were a little early for their contact with the informant, but that was better than being late. "Well, yeah," Schanke agreed. "That's why I asked if you had plans. Myra and I wanted you to come over for the evening." Nick sighed. His partner never gave up. "Look, Schank, I'm sure Myra's a great cook, but with my condition--" "Not for dinner," Schanke interrupted him. "I know you can't eat anything on that crazy macrobiotic diet of yours. Just come over, sit around, talk. Maybe play a couple of games of Sorry before Jenny's bedtime." He frowned at Nick, adding pointedly, "Most cops spend time with their partners outside of work, in case you didn't know." The vampire spotted the street sign and turned. "Well, I guess I could," he conceded reluctantly. "But why now? You've never asked me over before, except for dinner." "Yeah, well." Schanke stared out the side window uneasily. "Tomorrow's kind of a special occasion. Myra's niece is coming over. The one who just got out of med school." "Myra's niece?" Nick slowed the Caddy and eased it through a pothole. "This isn't another one of your wife's matchmaking schemes, is it?" "No way," Schanke snorted. "The kid's all of twenty-four. Way too young for you, and she's only going to be in town for one night, anyway. Some sort of convention." "Then why invite me in on a family party?" his partner persisted. "Well--" Schanke looked out the side window. "We-- uh-- kind of want to *avoid* a family party. It's an awkward situation. See, she's-- uh--" "She's what?" Nick prompted absently. The alley should be right up ahead. "She's Jennie's real mom," Schanke muttered, so low that most mortals wouldn't have heard. Nick slammed on the brakes and turned to stare at his partner. "Jennie's mom?" he repeated, shocked. "You mean you...?" "Hey, what do you take me for?" Schanke cut him off angrily. "She was only fourteen, for God's sake. The father's some boy she met at a dance club. The family's strict Catholic, so abortion was out, and Myra and I'd always wanted kids. It seemed like the perfect solution; we'd have had to spend years on adoption waiting lists otherwise." "Waiting lists?" Schanke hesitated, then continued warily. "Yeah, well, I don't exactly want the fact advertised, Knight, but well--" "You can't have kids." Nick made it a statement, flat and uninflected, and started the Caddy moving again. "Well-- no," Schanke admitted. He glanced at his partner. Seeing the sympathy there, he relaxed a little. An awkward silence descended. Trying for a normal tone, he said, "So, will you come over tomorrow? Myra and I'd really appreciate it, Nick. I mean-- I don't *think* Sandra will let the cat out of the bag--" His partner turned the car carefully into the alley. With all those dumpsters and trash bins, it would be a tight fit. "Sure, Schank," he acceded. "Glad to help. Maybe I could bring Nat, too?" Schanke's sigh of relief would have been clearly audible even to mortal ears. "Yeah, sure, great idea!" he enthused as Nick stopped the car. "This the place?" "Close enough. The informant said he wanted to meet me on that loading dock." Nick gestured to a space farther down the alley, where a smaller building formed its own cul-de-sac. "I figured you could find cover behind the dumpsters at the other end, in case I need backup." "This one of your regulars?" The blond man shook his head. "New guy, got in contact with me through a girl I helped out a while ago. If it was a regular, I wouldn't need backup." the vampire thought. "Okeydokey, partner," Schanke agreed. They climbed out of the Cadillac and walked down the alley together. Nick turned into the dead-end and climbed to the loading dock at the back of the building, while Schanke worked his way past trash bins, discarded boxes, and dumpsters to the other entrance to the alley. He was starting to appraise the surrounding clutter for the best hiding place when a figure suddenly stepped out from between two stacks of boxes. And shot him through the heart. The muffled *thud* of the silenced pistol took a second to register with Nick, who was searching the narrow spaces between pallet-loads of equipment for his informant. No sooner had he identified the sound than he twisted free of the confining stacks and rushed to where the stranger stood over Schanke. His vampiric senses at full, he saw the man pull Schanke's gun from its holster and scented the blood that spread in a dark stain across his partner's chest. With a wordless snarl of pure rage, he knocked the man into the wall. A small part of his mind noted the *crack* as the murderer's neck broke. The vampire knelt at his partner's side. The quick gush of heart's- blood had slowed to a trickle, then stopped. Desperate, he listened for Schanke's heart. The beat was faint, erratic. It stuttered. Stopped. Nick stood, slowly easing Schanke to the ground, and walked toward the Caddy. If his partner's murderer wasn't already dead, he soon would be. He had to call dispatch, get the coroner's van. Then, somehow, he'd have to tell Myra.... Nick was past the loading dock when the body crumpled against the wall shifted and stood up. The man reached into one of the boxes stacked near him. He pulled out two long, thin shapes, and walked over to stand at Schanke's feet. Schanke moaned softly and opened his eyes. Someone was standing over him, a short, stocky man in a long trenchcoat. The man dropped something at his feet with a metallic clatter. Then he stepped back and spoke. "I am Gunter Reichmann. Defend yourself." He raised a sword almost as tall as himself with both hands. Schanke thought, still dazed. He fumbled for his gun, but the holster was empty. Another sword lay at his feet. "Look, buster, I'm a cop," he bluffed desperately. "Doesn't matter," the lunatic replied flatly. "There can be only one. Pick up the sword, or I kill you now." the detective wondered as he reached for the blade at his feet. As Schanke's voice reached him, Nick froze, one hand on the Caddy's door. Nick thought in confusion. Then he was flying back up the alley. Nick "ran" the last few yards in a blur of speed, then took the sword from Schanke's hand. His partner collapsed back onto the ground as Nick took up a guard position at his side. "If you want to fight," Nick told the man with the claymore, "you can fight me." He held the broadsword easily, old reflexes flooding back at the feel of the hilt in his palm. The crazy pulled out his gun and shot Nick at point-blank range. The vampire didn't even flinch. The man stared at him a moment, shocked, then blustered, "You can't interfere, not now. It is the way. I have challenged *him*." Schanke wondered, staring at the bullet hole in the back of Nick's coat. Nick's voice took on that growl that meant he was 'going weird'. "I'm not one of you," he told the crazy. "I don't have to follow your 'way'." Nick attacked the man before he could recover from the shock. The battle was less unequal than he'd feared. His opponent wasn't as out of practice in swordwork as he, but Nick's superhuman speed and strength compensated for that. The two, Immortal and vampire, fought over and around Nick's fallen partner for a few moments, swords ringing. Then, Nick caught the Immortal's blade in a binding maneuver that had saved his life more than once in the Crusades, and disarmed him. Nick took his head on the backstroke. The headless corpse fell to its knees. A moment later, tendrils of energy snaked out of the body, arcing through the narrow alley in a fantastic pyrotechnic display. The few lights nearby exploded, and energy crackled in the narrow space-- --and entered the only suitable receptacle. Schanke. He had just pulled himself to his knees when the Quickening caught him. He jerked like a badly-controlled puppet, feeling the energy enter him, filling a place deep inside he hadn't even known existed until that moment. His mind was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, memories, sensations.... Then it was over. Dizzy and exhausted, Schanke shook his head. Nick was just standing there, the blood-stained broadsword grounded at his side, watching him. "What the---" his question was drowned out by the roar of a powerful motorcycle. As it pulled into the alley and stopped, the detective felt a moment of disorientation. The rider dismounted and removed his helmet. He was a curly-headed kid, early twenties, and the boy's eyes shifted warily from Nick, to the corpse, to Schanke. "Hello, Richie." Nick bent casually to wipe his blade on the corpse's coat. "How's Duncan?" "Nick?" The kid was obviously off-balance. His eyes shuttled between the two cops. "You aren't...?" "No," Nick agreed. "He is." And he nodded at his partner. Richie nodded, absently, and nudged the corpse's head with the toe of his boot, rolling the face into sight. "Reichmann," he said. "Mac warned me about him. He specializes in taking on new Immortals, ones who haven't learned enough to be dangerous." He looked up at Nick. "That's what happened here, right?" He nodded at the sword. "And you stopped him." "Your 'rules' don't apply to me," Nick told him, putting the sword down on a packing case. The dizziness had faded and Schanke had just about had enough. "Wait a minute," he demanded, climbing to his feet. "Immortals? Rules? Just what the hell is going on here, Nick?" He glared from one blond to the other in annoyance. "Is somebody going to explain this, or are you trying to get me to die of curiosity?" The two men chuckled. "Not possible," Richie assured him. "Trust me, I know. As for what's going on-- Well, there's no easy way to say it. You're an Immortal." "A what?" Schanke blurted. Then a horrible thought occurred to him. He looked down at his chest. There was a bullet hole in his shirt, just like-- "I'm--" He looked up at Nick, then at Richie. "Can I, like, still go out in the sun?" he asked the kid. The kid looked puzzled. "Yeah." "And I can still *eat*, right?" the detective continued. "You'd better." Richie really sounded confused now. "Why wouldn't--?" "I think I'd better explain this, Richie," Nick interrupted him quickly. "I can give Schanke the basics, and he'd probably believe me sooner than you. Then you can fill in the details later, okay?" "Well, okay," the kid agreed, reluctantly. "But how--" "Where are you staying?" Nick interrupted again. "We'll be in touch, but someone's probably called this in by now. You don't want to be involved with an attempted cop-killing, do you." It wasn't a question, and Richie apparently realized that. "No," he agreed hastily. "I'm staying at a B&B in the Beaches." He recited the address. "Right." Nick nodded. "We'll be in touch." The kid returned the nod, got on his bike, and left. An awkward silence descended on the alley. The two detectives shot furtive looks at each other, neither wanting to go first. "Nick, I--" "Schanke--" They spoke at the same moment, and stopped. Stared at each other. Schanke took a deep breath, noted gratefully that he *could* still breathe, and took the plunge. "I'm--" He licked his lips, nervously. "I'm not like you, am I?" "You mean...." Nick hesitated. Schanke suddenly got tired of being long-suffering and patient. "I mean, am I a *vampire*!" he snapped. "Like you." As Nick stared, flummoxed, he added, "For God's sake, Nick, it's been *three* *years*! I'd think you'd know you could trust me by now!" "You-- you knew?" the vampire asked weakly. "How long--?" "Since you pulled that nut with the Uzi out the window, our first night together," Schanke told him. "You weren't exactly subtle about it, y'know. Jeeze," he added, exasperated, "when I think of all the times I covered for you, didn't say anything about the bullet holes or the quick escapes-- How could I *not* figure it out, for crying out loud?" "But--" the vampire stammered. "You-- you never said anything--" "Yeah, well, Stonetree told me to keep it quiet." "*Stonetree* knew!?" Nick yelped. "Yeah, well, anyway I think he did," his partner elaborated. "He didn't come right out and say so, but I always figured..." "Who else?" Nick demanded, panicked. "Cohen? Does Cohen know?" He grabbed Schanke's shirtfront in both hands. "Calm *down*, willya?" Schanke tried to pry his partner's hands free, without much success. "No, I don't think she does. I don't *think* anyone else does, but I wouldn't be surprised. You haven't exactly been hiding things very well lately. I mean, jeeze, Nick, when IA went through your apartment I thought they'd figure it out for sure. The blood, and those pictures of you with dates on the back. You're just lucky I was there, pal." Nick stared at his partner in shock. He's always thought Schanke was just too unobservant to figure it out. Stupid, he realized now. No one who wasn't a good observer made it to Detective, these days. And to realize that Schanke had been covering for him, all this time.... He slowly eased his grip on Schanke's shirt. Absently, he noted the bullet hole between his hands. Then, as exactly what that hole meant clicked home, he let go quickly and stepped back. Schanke looked down at whatever had snapped Nick back to reality. And saw a neat little, bloodstained hole in his shirt and the perfect, undamaged skin below it. He swallowed. "So," he queried, poking a finger into the hole, "you want to tell me what this *does* mean, *partner*?" Nick took a deep breath. Not that he needed the oxygen, but it helped him calm down. "Sure," he said, with what he hoped was an easy smile. "How about I buy you a souvlaki and we talk about it?" He put one arm around his partner's shoulder and steered him out of the alley. "I think I owe you one. Or two. Just don't breathe on me afterward, okay?" "Yeah, sure," Schanke agreed. "And you're still coming over tomorrow night, right?" He hesitated. "But, what *am* I, Nick? What's all this 'Immortal' stuff *mean*?" "It means," Nick assured him, "that you and I are going to be partners for a long, *long* time--" As the two cops walked away, a figure opened a window above them, and the strains of a tune from "Gypsy" floated out over the darkened street as the camera panned upward.... ~Wherever we go,~ "Hey, Nick?" ~Whatever we do,~ "Yeah, Schanke?" ~We're going to do it together!~ "How old are you, anyway?" ~Through thick and through thin,~ "800." ~All out or all in,~ "800? No kidding?" ~We're gonna go through it together!~ "Well, give or take a couple of decades." ~Together, forever!~ "Wow...." ~Together, wherever we go....~ (Immediately followed by a promo trailer for "Knight and Daye", the adventures of two *very* unusual private investigators who have recently moved to Philadelphia.)