Date: Mon, 20 Nov 1995 07:43:14 -0800 From: Elizabeth Ann Lewis Subject: Seven Days: Song Challenge I don't know if there is a statute of limitations on challenges, but I got a couple of requests to keep going with Sting songs, so I did. This is in an entirely different vein (bad pun intended) from Moon Over Bourbon Street, and I make no apologies for the blatant N&N Packer tendencies involved. I have at least two more Sting songs in mind, too. Disclaimers: We know that vampires can drink alcohol, and to fit with the song lyrics I extended that to mean that they suffered the same or similar effects as humans. And the "flea (flee?)" is straight from the printed lyrics, not my confusion over which word was meant. :) "Seven Days" is from the album Ten Summoner's Tales. Enjoy! *************************************************** Seven Days by Elizabeth Ann Lewis Sunday... Nat tapped the pen against her lips thoughtfully. What she was about to do wasn't kind, but she really didn't have a choice. It had been four years, four years her life had been on hold, four years that she had waited for Nick to blink his eyes and realize she was there. For her own sake, she couldn't go on this way. But how to find the words? Suddenly, Nat grinned wickedly. It would serve him right after that vague, indefinite (if beautiful) card he had given her when she had blown up at him over the fact he wasn't trying hard enough on his cure. The grin settled into a small smile as she penned precisely two words on the slip of paper. //"Seven days" was all she wrote./A kind of ultimatum note/She gave to me/She gave to me...// Monday... The small piece of stationary was lying on Nick's desk when he came into work that night. He picked it up and unfolded it. *Seven days* it said, in Nat's firm, slanting handwriting. He stared at it for a minute straight. "What's that?" Tracy asked, settling herself into her own seat. She had repeat herself twice before Nick looked up at her. "I don't know," he said slowly. Putting the paper in his desk, he tried to work on the report for the case he and Tracy had finished the night before. After 15 minutes of staring blankly at his typewriter, he realized he wasn't going to be good for anything until he found out what Nat meant. "Coroner's Office, Natalie Lambert speaking." "Hi, Nat, it's Nick. I was wondering about that shooting victim." After a long silence, in which Nick tried desperately to think of a question *to* ask about the shooting victim, he finally blurted, "What was her blood type?" He could almost hear Nat's eyebrows hit her hairline. Smoothly, she said, "O- positive, Nick. When did police reports get *that* detailed?" "Oh, well, you know, they want every scrap of information in triplicate nowadays," he said nonchalantly. Tracy looked at him from across her desk with an incredulous expression, and Nick turned his back, twisting the phone cord around his body and lowering his voice. "Say, Nat, you want to come over tomorrow night? I don't have to come in until late, and it's your night off, right? We could watch a movie, or maybe that new American TV show, ER. You'd like ER, it's about doctors." Nick realized he was talking too fast, and took a deep breath to try to slow himself down. "Sorry, Nick, I can't," Nat said lightly. "I've got a date." "Oh, OK, I'll--a date? What do you mean, a date?" Nick could feel the sweat forming on his brow, and hurriedly wiped it away before the tell-tale blood tint was noticed. "Date. Social event in which two people, often but not necessarily of different sexes, spend an undefined amount of time together in a recreational atmosphere for the purpose of romantic fulfillment." Nat gave the definition in a cool, clinical voice. //When I thought the field had cleared/It seems another suit appeared to challenge me./Woe is me.// "Date? You mean, with a man?" He had forgotten to lower his voice, and Tracy was quietly strangling on giggles behind him. "Well, although I did say that it wasn't necessary for the participants to be different sexes, in my case, it helps." "Where did you meet him?" Nick demanded. "None of your business, Nick. Unless you *decide* it's your business. You've got a week to make up your mind." The click on other end of the line was as final and definite as the voice had been. //Though I hate to make a choice,/My options are decreasing rapidly./Well, we'll see.// Tuesday... Natalie opened her door the next night to find Sidney prowling around the telephone table. Sid hated the jangling of the telephone, and he hated the high- pitched beep of the answering machine even more. He was definitely in a severely pissed-off mood now. Nat kicked off her heels, hit the play button, and settled on her couch, pulling Sidney into her lap without worrying about the effect of his claws on the burgundy velvet she was wearing. "Hi Nat, it's Nick. Just wanted to call and let you know that I understand... about you wanting to date and all. I--well, I'll talk to you later." *Beep* "Nat, aren't you home yet? I need to ask you what you meant. About having seven days. Call me." *Beep* "Nat, how long have you known this guy? Are you sure he's safe? You remember what happened last time. If he gives you a hassle, you can call me, and I'll help." *Beep* "Nat, where the hell are you? Call me when you get in." *Beep* The messages continued, getting more and more agitated as they went along. When the machine finally ran out of tape, Nat pushed Sidney off her lap and went to bed. *Without* calling Nick back. //I don't think she'd bluff this time./I really have to make her mine./It's plain to see:/It's him or me.// Wednesday... "Nick, I don't see why we have to go down to the coroner's building to see Nat. It's an open and shut case, we don't need any information from the ME." "Humor me," Nick said shortly. He'd called Nat as soon as he had gotten off his shift last night, and gotten her answering machine again. Since he had run the blasted thing out of tape, it could only mean that she had come home and rewound the machine without answering his messages. He was in a foul mood, and Tracy's questions didn't help any. When they entered the examining room, the first thing Nick noticed was the enormous bouquet of red roses sitting on Nat's no-nonsense desk. "Ooo," Tracy breathed, "they're beautiful." "Where did you get those?" Nick demanded. Nat leaned back in her chair, and allowed a dreamy smile to cross her face. "Matt sent them." "Matt?" "Yes, Matt. Matthew Sullivan. He's an attorney for a case I testified in a few weeks ago." Nick recognized the name. Matthew Sullivan was tall, dark, handsome, and distinguished. If someone had asked him thirty seconds before what his opinion of the man was, Nick would have answered favorably. Now he just wanted to rip his throat out. //Monday, I could wait till Tuesday,/If I made up my mind, Wednesday would be fine./Thursday's on my mind,/Friday'd give me time,/Saturday can wait,/But Sunday'd be too late...// "Tracy, can you leave us alone for a minute?" Nat asked. Tracy looked up from her contemplation of the roses, stared at Nick and Nat for a second, then left the room. "What are you doing to me, Nat?" "I'm being honest with myself for the first time in years. With both of us. I have wants and needs, Nick. I want to know if there is a chance for us. If there isn't, then I need to get on with my life." Nick took a deep breath. "You mean you're giving up on looking for a cure?" Nat shook her head. "No. I'm giving up on you. If you can't make a decision by midnight Saturday, I'm going to seriously consider Matt's proposal." Nick choked out, "Proposal? Marriage? You've only just met the man!" "Actually, I've known him for years. He and Richard were good friends. He got divorced a few years ago, and I hadn't run into him since, until a couple of weeks ago." A brief knock on the door was followed by a gorgeous deep voice asking, "Nat, are you here?" "Speak of the devil," Nick muttered. //The fact he's over six feet ten/Might instill fear in other men./But not in me/The mighty flea (flee?)// Matthew crossed the room and took Nat's hands, bending down to kiss her cheek tenderly. Nick barely restrained the urge to tear him away. That was how *he* kissed Nat. "I love the flowers, Matt. They're beautiful!" "So are you," he told her, stroking her cheek. "I came to ask if you wanted to go to lunch tomorrow. I know you work tomorrow night, so lunch was the best I could come up with." Nat smiled up at him. "I'd love to." "Have you given any thought to my proposal?" he asked quietly. Nat glanced at Nick, then said, "I'll tell you on Sunday." //Ask if I am mouse or man:/The mirror squeaked, away I ran./He'll murder me/In time for his tea// "Nat, uh, I have to go. Talk to you later." Nat finally turned from her contemplation of Matt's green eyes. "Nick, didn't you have a question for me?" "Did I? I, uh, can't remember. See you later... bye." Nick almost pulled the door off its hinges in his hurry to get out, and found Tracy giggling outside the door. "Don't start with me," he growled. //It doesn't bother me at all/My rival is Neanderthal./It makes me think/Perhaps I need a drink...// Thursday... Nick couldn't sleep, even if it was noon. He wandered around his loft, picking things up and putting them down. He tried to read the latest archeological journal, and threw it across the room when there was an article on ancient medical practices. He tried to paint, and found all his images were green; whether that symbolized jealousy or Sullivan's green eyes he wasn't sure. He sat down at the piano, and found himself playing Mendallson's Wedding Theme from Midsummers Night's Dream. It didn't help that he could imagine Nat in a wedding dress and veil very easily. Her long curling hair would curve around her shoulders, eyes would glow with happiness, as she reached out to take Matt's hand at the alter... Growling, Nick went to his refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of cow blood. After a moment he drained it and reached for another, when he remembered the bottles of red wine in the cupboard. //IQ is no problem here/We won't be playing Scrabble for her hand I fear.../I need that beer!// What did Matt Sullivan have that he didn't? Nick wondered a few hours and a few bottles later. He rose unsteadily to his feet to go back to his kitchen area to get the next bottle. Sure, Matt was drop-dead gorgeous, but Nick had had enough females panting after him to know that he wasn't terribly bad looking himself. Matt was reasonably wealthy, but Nick was rich beyond human understanding. Matt was intelligent and well-learned, but next to Nick he was a infant. *Merde. If she's dumb enough to prefer him to me than she deserves him,* Nick thought irritably. Pulling the cork out of the bottle, he drank deeply... And dropped into a sodden heap. //Monday, I could wait till Tuesday,/If I made up my mind, Wednesday would be fine/Thursday's on my mind/Friday'd give me time/Saturday can wait/But Sunday'd be too late...// Friday... Tracy called Nat at work. "Nat, what on earth are you doing to Nick?" "Trying to pound some sense into that thick skull of his. Why?" Tracy glanced over her shoulder at her partner, currently being chewed by the captain for missing work the night before. Nick's explanation of a "medical emergency" would have worked if he hadn't looked like he had come off a three month drunken debauch. "Well, whatever you are doing... I think it's working." Nat hung up the phone. And laughed triumphantly. //Seven days, how quickly go/The fact remains, I love her so/Seven days, so many ways/I can't run away,/I can't run away...// Saturday... It was 11:50 PM. Nick couldn't keep his mind on his work. It was Nat's early night, and she was home already. Was Matt with her? What was he doing? What were *they* doing? Was she in love with him? Was she going to marry him? "Nick. Go. I'll take care of things here." Nick blinked at Tracy. "What?" "I'll take care of the reports," Tracy said patiently. She had become used to repeating things in the past week. Nick wasn't tracking terribly well. "Go away, get some sleep. Or..." "Or?" Tracy grinned at him. "If you need me to tell you what to do, then you're farther gone than I thought!" //Monday, I could wait till Tuesday,/If I made up my mind, Wednesday would be fine/Thursday's on my mind/Friday'd give me time/Saturday can wait/But Sunday'd be too late...// Nick didn't even bother with the Caddie. He took to the air as soon as realistically possible. Arriving at Nat's apartment, he pounded on the door. Nat answered after a few seconds. "Hi, Nick. Do you want to come in?" Nick pushed inside. "Is he here?" "Who's here?" "Sullivan." Nick continued to prowl through the apartment, searching. "Is he here?" Nat tilted her head to the side. "Now, why would he be here?" "You said you were in love with him, that you were going to marry him. Nat, you can't. You can't marry him. You can't leave me--" Suddenly, he turned around and grabbed her by the arms. "I won't let you!" Nat remained calm. "Why not?" The grip on her arms turned into a bruising embrace as he dragged her against his body. Face buried in her hair, he whispered painfully, "Because I love you. I can't bear the idea of you loving anyone but me." Nat said something, but it was muffled by Nick's shirt. Reluctantly, he let her go, to see mischief dancing in her eyes. "What did you say?" "Matt never asked me to marry him. And I'm not in love with him." "You said he proposed..." "I said he had a proposal for me. He wanted me to come work for his office, as a forensic specialist." "But the flowers, the dates..." Nat linked her arms around Nick's neck. "Matt's an old friend. When I needed someone to make you jealous, he was more than happy to help." Nick went very still. "You mean this was a set-up? The whole thing?" "Uh-huh," she said blithely, without seeming to be worried about Nick's vampire temper. "Damnit, this has been the worst week of my very long life! Why did you do this to me?" Nat met his eyes unflinchingly, dropping all barriers. "Because I'm in love with you, Nick. And I needed to hear you tell me that you loved me. I needed to hear it," she whispered. Nick looked down at her. She had been his hope of salvation for four years, but somewhere in that time she had become more. She'd become his *reason* for salvation. And he knew that the uncertainty of this last week had proved to him just how important she was to his life, his heart and his soul. "I love you, Nat. I love you." THE END