From UserKnight@AOL.COMSat Dec 14 21:44:42 1996 Date: Wed, 11 Dec 1996 23:21:07 -0500 From: Bobbie Williams To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: CHRISTMAS: Silent Knight (1/1) This is just a bit of Christmas fluff in response to Mel's Christmas challenge. It was written during a Nick/Natpacker phase of my FK fanaticism, so don't say I didn't warn you. Thanks, once again, to Sandee Buskey, my extraordinary beta reader, my confidante, and my best friend. Permission is granted to archive this. Comments and constructive criticisms to UserKnight@aol.com. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a "Silent Knight." ;-) SILENT KNIGHT by Bobbie Williams c 1996 "Didn't I ever tell you about the vampire's fear of dirty dishes?" Nick joked, looking distastefully at the pile of dishes stacked in his kitchen sink. The small dinner party he had given for Captain and Mrs. Reese had been only a minor success in entertainment, but a major step in Nick's attempt to socialize--even though he had been forced to feign a stomach ailment to avoid eating anything. Nat stifled a laugh while rolling up her sleeves. She hesitated before deciding which dish to wash first. "It must be similar to the human fear of dirty dishes," she giggled, as he embraced her from behind. "Don't worry, they'll be clean when you dry them!" She shook him off and proceeded with the task before her. Nick picked up a towel and patiently waited for her to hand him a dish. "Ouch," she yelped, wincing as she drew back her hand from the soapy water. "Must be a knife hiding down there somewhere." She held her bleeding finger up and applied pressure to stop the trickle of blood. The scent of fresh, human blood immediately attracted the vampire. However, there was only concern in Nick's eyes as he stared at her hand, then an amused smile crossed his face. "I could help you with that," he said. Realizing the implications of his statement, he watched for Nat's reaction. Natalie gave him a dubious look, playing along with him. "I'll just bet you could." She ran cold water over the wound and attempted to reach behind Nick for a paper towel. He playfully caught her in his arms. She smiled up at him, but kept him at arm's length, and tried to sound annoyed through her laughter. "Nick, my finger." She waited as Nick, without taking his eyes off of her, reached behind him, ripped a paper towel from the roll, and handed it to her. "You're in a strange mood tonight," she said suspiciously, dabbing at her finger. He gazed at her for a long moment, trying to sort out the flood of emotion brought on by the events of the evening, then shrugged, saying, "must be the time of year." Natalie held the towel on her finger, waiting for the bleeding to stop--her finger was beginning to throb from the pressure. "Oh, you mean Christmas," she said half-heartedly, distracted by her recent wound. He was surprised by her nonchalance. "I thought you loved Christmas," he said. "Huh?" She asked, focusing on the conversation at hand. "Yeah, I guess I do, it's just all the hub-bub associated with it. You know what I mean?" "I don't know--it's been a long time since I've gotten caught up in the 'hub-bub.'" Nick took the paper towel away from her. The bleeding had stopped, so he took her by the hand and led her away from the kitchen to the living room of his cavernous loft. For the first time in more years than he cared to remember, he had bought a tree to celebrate the season. The Douglas Fir stood more than eight feet tall; he had placed it next to the stairs, which had made placing the star on top much easier. He connected the lights and then stood with Natalie to admire his handiwork. "Nick! It's gorgeous!" Nat exclaimed, entranced. The tiny lights drenched the tree in a multitude of colors that reflected off the tinsel and gave a comforting glow. Under the tree was a solitary present, wrapped in silver paper and a curling white bow. "This'll get you in the spirit," he said, handing her the heavy package as he led her to the couch in front of the fireplace. "Oh, Nick," Natalie said softly, "it's so beautiful, I don't want to unwrap it." She turned the small box over in her hands and glowed with anticipation. She looked at his smiling face and realized he was enjoying this as much as she was. "Open it," Nick said anxiously, watching the firelight reflected in her eyes which were wide with expectation. Natalie smiled and gingerly picked at the wrapping paper, trying not to re-open the cut on her finger. The top came off without much effort and she opened the tissue paper inside. Nestled in the box was a carving in ancient stone. It was no bigger than a large postcard, with broken edges, the underside rough and blackened. But Nat's attention was centered on the top. The relief depicted a knight on his horse and a woman standing beside him, both dressed in elegant medieval attire, their hands intertwined. Nick smiled faintly. "Do you like it?" he asked hopefully. Tears welled up in Nat's eyes, as she recognized the significance of the image. "It's gorgeous," she answered softly. "Wherever did you find this?" She held it up to take a closer look. "Wales, I think. Sometime in the 15th century." He watched her examine it with her scientific eye. "I think it was part of a church that had been destroyed in a fire." Nat carefully laid it back in the tissue paper. "I don't know what to say," she whispered after a contemplative pause. She understood that Nick meant the two images to represent Nick and herself, and the romantic overtones of the carving melted her heart. If only it could be true, she thought. Nick started to feel uncomfortable and wondered if this had been an appropriate gift. "It would mean a lot to me if you'd keep it," he said hesitantly. "Keep it?" she echoed his words. "Nick, no matter what happens to me and you . . . to us . . . I'll always treasure this." She instinctively threw her arms around his neck, and for a brief moment they both forgot the dangers associated with their intimacy. Nick enjoyed her affectionate embrace, and savored the pledge of love and security it gave. He gently kissed her forehead and when their lips met, they shared a tender kiss of promise for the new year. Unsure of Nick's ability to maintain control, she gently pushed him away. "It's okay, Nat," he reassured her, holding her close and cradling her in his arms. He was feeling exceptionally strong tonight and, at least for the moment, wasn't afraid for either himself or Natalie. This sensation of peace and contentment was what he craved, what he needed. And his relationship with Natalie was what enabled him to experience these feelings. As he closed his eyes, a single pink tear trickled down his cheek, and once more he dedicated himself to the task of becoming human again. Natalie nestled her head on his chest and they sat in silence for a time, enjoying each other's company. "We really should finish the dishes," Nat reminded him eventually. Nick pulled her closer. "Tomorrow," he murmured softly, then added, "you're injured, remember?" The world and all its worries melted away in his embrace; Natalie let herself pretend Nick might be mortal and they could share a normal relationship. She knew it was a fantasy, but she let herself enjoy it all the same. At last, Nat roused herself and sat up next to Nick. "What time is it?" she wondered aloud. "Eleven," he answered without looking at the clock. His gaze had wandered to the night outside his window, as he watched the snow pile up against the large-paned windows. "Oh Geez!" Nat searched for the shoes she had kicked off while she was curled up on the couch. The sudden action startled Nick and he immediately wondered what he had done wrong. "Nat, what's . . ." She watched his face darken with incomprehension. "Midnight mass . . .," she blurted out, "if I don't get going now, I'll be standing for the entire service." She hastily found first one shoe and then the other. "I didn't know . . ." He was surprised by this turn of events, but he found her coat and then helped her put it on. Nat stopped and looked at him. "Maybe I should wait and go tomorrow?" she said hesitantly, not wanting to put a damper on the evening. "Don't be silly," he answered honestly, "I know this is important to you." It was to me, once, he thought despondently. "In fact, let me take you." He didn't want to be deprived of her company so soon, so abruptly. Nat smiled, "You are my knight, ya' know?" Nick gave a small laugh. "Well, then I guess we'd better mount my steed, m' lady," he said as he held the elevator door for her. He put his arm comfortably around her shoulder as they made their way to the garage. The red tail-light of the Caddy illuminated the snow-covered lot as Nick backed out of the garage and headed to St. Ann's Church. The car warmed quickly; Natalie was glad he had had the heater fixed for the comfort of his mortal passengers. She smiled sadly at the bittersweet memory of Schanke shivering in the front seat of Nick's car. Nick also was thinking of old acquaintances as he habitually reached for the radio, curious about LaCroix's reflections on this holy night, but Nat's gloved hand stopped him. "Not tonight," she suggested quietly. "Don't put him between us tonight, Nick." Nick caught her hand in his and gave it an affirmative squeeze. Often he felt torn between the redemption Natalie's world offered and the 'gift' of eternal life LaCroix had bestowed on him. Nat was right, he decided, Christmas was not the time to tempt himself with an existence he could no longer tolerate. It was a time of renewal, he thought, and he reiterated the promise he had made to himself 200 years ago--to seek his humanity and regain his lost soul. He turned on the radio and found a barely audible AM station that was broadcasting traditional carols. Even through the static, Nick thought they sounded as fresh as they had the first time he had heard them. Relaxing, Nat sat back in her seat and smiled, admiring Nick's inner strength. The rear of the car fishtailed in the snow as Nick rounded the corner to the church. Pulling to the curb, he put the car in park and turned off the engine, then immediately got out of the car to open the passenger door for Nat. She smiled at the courtesy, and took his hand as he helped her out of the car. The heavy snowfall had tapered off to a flurry, and the softly falling flakes shimmered with a silver glow in the streetlight. Holding hands, they stood face to face, neither wanting to part company. "I guess you can't go with me," Nat asked with false hope. Nick looked down at their hands and took a deep breath, wishing he could give her the answer she wanted. "Not tonight Nat. I'm sorry." He was many things, he thought, but not a hypocrite. He looked again at the expectation in her face, and felt he had disappointed her once again. "I understand," she said sincerely. "I'll wait here if you want me to," he offered as a compromise. "I'd like that." Nat gave his hand a small squeeze and hurried across the street. "Say a prayer for me, " Nick whispered under his breath. Suddenly, Nat stopped in the middle of the street and turned to see Nick leaning against his car. A tender smile danced across her face. Somehow she had heard him. The snow finally had stopped, and the clouds were breaking up as Nick watched the last of the faithful scurry into the large, old, stone structure. Deciding to wait inside his car, he was about to turn around when he looked up at the bell tower in the steeple. The cross atop the spire gave him reason to pause, but he was drawn to it, as if his destiny waited there for him. Then, as the clouds gave way, a single, brightly shining star revealed itself. As the strains of "Silent Night" floated through the cold night air, Nick chose to believe the star was a sign . . . a blessing and an affirmation of his faith in God, in himself and in his chosen path of redemption. Filled with a renewed sense of purpose, Nick quietly settled in behind the steering wheel, rolled down the window to hear the church choir, and waited. End