Date: Thu, 26 Dec 1996 03:22:31 -0700 (MST) From: John Preet X-Sender: preetj@dec To: Fan Fiction Subject: My Forever (seemed like it, anyway with long hand copying) submission "A Study In Humanity" a Forever Knight story idea by John Preet 4950 Words Author's notes: Hi, fang gang! I'm inserting these notes after longhand copying of this story on a program called PICO. I don't have a real browser, you see. This story began when my then-girlfriend and I were up watching FK, (which came on at 2:00 AM here in Calgary), and she commented on Janette's um, clothes, in the opening credits. I poo-pooed her on the grounds of, well, JEALOUSY, but got to thinking about it. She was right. Other than the girl's reactions of "get the slut off the screen, and show us GWD," and the guy's reactions of "oh, bite me, femoral artery please," there wasn't much about Janette. I hope I've cured that. A final note: the inferences in this story will only be understood by real FK fans. To the rest of you: "phbbbtht." I hope you enjoy this piece. If you'd like to provide me with some feedback, please e-mail me at preetj@cuug.ab.ca Sincerely; John Preet "A Study in Humanity" page 1 Mortals were hard on a vampire's senses. They talked too loud, walked too loud, BREATHED too loud. Even the musical taste in the Raven tended toward raucous, and well, loud. She could see the discomfort in the eyes of the young ones, those who were still revelling in their newfound ability to see in the blackest night, and to hear a squirrel's heart. But Janette had been brought across nearly a thousand years ago, and had long since learned to block out the incessant cacophony that mortals rarely noticed. At least she could keep the lights in here reasonably dim. Part of this was the fact that, even as a mortal, Janette had been used to constant noise and endless strangers. She believed LaCroix had broken the chains of that horrid existence, but she unknowingly recreated the conditions that still haunted her in nightmare flashes through her day's sleep. She couldn't put her finger on the faint uneasiness that hung on her while in the Raven's flickering darkness, so wrapped herself in her cloak of calm and graceful aloofness. This place was a refuge for certain types; the frightened and desperate could find solace in the shadows. They couldn't know that their safety was largely because the tiny, alluring woman who sat where nothing would escape her notice, had decreed that no harm would come to those within her walls. This grim altruism was also in part a response to the wrongs she had suffered as a mortal, and it included those of her own kind who would use this place as a hunting ground. many of the young ones had not yet learned that the primary factor of a vampire's power was age. Those who refused to listen to quiet reason found out the hard way. Even more surprised were the brutal mortal men of the street trades. Over the years, many had attempted to force their will in here; the lucky ones escaped with strains and bruises. Some were still there, in a manner of speaking. Their lifeblood filled the bottles of Janette's private stock. She was enjoying a goblet of that stock when Nick lightly touched her shoulder. Her whole body quivered as it had for hundreds of years, in a way she hoped he no longer noticed. She willed calm, turned and raised her hand to be kissed in the comforting ritual. Nick smiled slightly in spite of himself, for, although he was not here on social matters, his heart would always thrill at every sight of her. He sat, surprising her mildly, and astonished her by taking her hand. He then left her completely flabbergasted; he turned over another wine glass, filled it from her bottle, and drank deeply. She elected to remain silent and let him get to it in his own time. Nick took a deep breath (some mortal habits stay forever), and put down his glass. "Janette, have you noticed fewer of us around lately?" Baffled, she started to shake her head, then reconsidered. There HAD been a few less vampires around than usual, now that she thought about it. It seemed to her that some of the more aggressive young ones had not been around for a while. She'd had words with a few of them and had assumed page 2 that they had simply moved on. As if reading her thoughts, Nick took her hand in both of his and leaned in close. Although he murmured the next words, they jarred Janette like a bellow. "Someone is killing us one by one. Someone is hunting us like mortals hunt rabbits. Nat showed me a dozen corpses over the last week that showed no signs of struggle. I'd say they thought they were on an easy hunt, and were taken completely by surprise by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. It has to be one of us. No mortal could be so strong, so precise." Janette sat absolutely still, her very stillness sending psychic warnings that made some of the crowd around her stir uneasily and move away. Her words were so soft that even Nick had to strain to hear. "Who, Nikolya? Which of us could be so depraved as to do this thing? It is the one crime that would bring down the wrath of our entire kind! Who would dare?" Nick shook her (lightly, as she was considerably older than even he), and moved closer. "Janette, have you seen LaCroix? He would have to know who is capable of this. I'm certain it would have to be one as old as . . . " he trailed off. She looked at him, then her eyes flared green. "NO, Nikolya! Don't even suggest that our master could do this!" Nick took a chance and pressed her arms harder. "I'm not saying that it's him Janette. But I have to know! He's so very old that he might know of a rogue among us, or of some disease of the vampire mind that could cause it. Have you seen him?" Now much subdued, she slumped back. "No, cheri, I have not. He always pops up, either here, or at that radio station, but I haven't seen him lately. Have you lost so much of our ways that you can't even call to your own master?" Irritated, Nick stood and turned to go. He was stopped by her hand on his arm, a grip that would have pulverised a mortal's bones. "Please, cheri, I'm sorry. Please, Nikolya, come and spend the day with me." No guile was in her eyes. Nick reached out his other hand, and covered hers. "Of course. Be careful, Janette. Don't go anywhere alone. I'll be back by day break." She smiled, more than a little relieved, and was watching him thread his way out when she was struck by the thought that no one was watching HIS back. His mortal partner meant well, but she would be no help against one of their kind. Troubled, she turned back to the bar. page 3 # Bernie was angry. He'd had a screaming row with Vachon and Screed about hunting down here, and was now setting about that very task. Vachon had warned him that Raven was not a place where hunting was tolerated. Of course that had been after that. . .that WOMAN had all but physically thrown him from the place. That tiny little creature had some nerve thinking she could get away with that! He'd show her. He'd drain the first fool he came across and leave the corpse on the Raven's steps. If that arrogant Spaniard didn't like it, he could bloody well sod off. Nobody treated Bernie this way. Full of these thoughts, he at first missed the telltale ragged breathing seeping out of the alley. What caught his attention first was the stench of raw alcohol. "Been nipping, eh old son?" he whispered to himself, smirking. A drunk in an alleyway, then. "Tsk, tsk! Might as well help the little wench keep her rubbish area clean. Come out, come out!" He chuckled as he flickered into the alley, and homed straight in to the breathing noise, the hunger starting deeply inside him. He settled noiselessly beside an old tarpaulin stretched over a bed frame, set both hands on it and yanked with all his vampire speed and strength. # Janette drifted behind the bar, her mind whirling with what Nick had told her. Distracted, she knocked a glass off the bar and reached with her preternatural speed to rescue it, only to find a hand there just before hers. Startled, she looked up into the coldest grey eyes she had seen in ten centuries. She automatically gave an aloof smile while she probed at his mind, then stopped, stunned. His mind was closed to her, something she had never experienced in all her long years. He smiled then, and his eyes changed colour. Not the warning flare of one of her kind, but a soft, rich, green blue that reminded her of the sea from when she was a mortal child. Strangely soothing. Humpf, a mortal, yet something about him. . .then she identified the strange feeling. Fear. # Nick pushed through the milling officers, quickly enough that some would have what they dismissed as sunburn the next day. Tracey tried in vain to keep up as the panicked vampire got in front. When the call had come in, dead body, near the after hours club called the Raven, he had completely lost it. Unable to fly there as Tracey was with him in his old Caddy, he had nonetheless given his best imitation of flight racing to the scene. He forgot to use the flashlight in his hand, just used the vision LaCroix had given him. He relaxed. Not Janette. One of the young ones, with a distinct 'punk rock' look; shaved head, gold hoop earrings. He looked like the others, with a look of blank astonishment on his face. page 4 Nick fingered a gaping hole in the black leather jacket, snapped his hand back at the flaring agony in his finger. Tracey leaped in to help, then burst out laughing. "For goodness sake, Nick, it's just a splinter! Hold still you big baby." He shuddered with relief as she deftly plucked it out of his fingertip and dropped it into an evidence baggy. He nodded at her. She was getting more professional every week. For her part, Tracey was deeply wondering about HIS professionalism. He had never acted like this before. She was also vaguely wondering why he hadn't used his flashlight. # Something else was bothering Janette about the stranger in her bar. He was definitely a mortal, but his movements, like the cup catch, and even now wending his way toward the bathroom, were smooth. His motions looked slow to her vampire eyes, but somehow he was here and then there without pause. She watched, now unsurprised, as Urs reached out a teasing hand to him and somehow clutched only air. She remembered what Nick had said about the mysterious killer having to be one of them, but now she knew otherwise. She reached under the bar for her telephone. # Nick turned on his car radio to help him think, (AM only), and saw Tracey wince with disgust before he realized what was tuned in. It was LaCroix, of course, doing his Nightcrawler show. Nick held up a hand to stop her turning the dial, as what his master was saying registered. "Tonight I have a new conundrum for you, friends. You have heard of the wolf in sheep's clothing? Tonight I'm pondering the vengeful sheep in sheep's clothing. You, the wolf, laugh. Yet the cunning sheep is not as harmless as he appears. What is going on behind his bland eyes? Tasty grass, or your demise? He blends in well with the flock, munches and frolics with the sun. After dark, he sheds his snowy wool, and we see his true coat. The sheep is quick and cunning, dear wolves, and his his hooves are sharp. Do the wolves have anything to fear as the sheep is unmasked? Perhaps . . . perhaps." Nick shook his head and offered the dial to Tracey, who spun it with a vengeance of her own. "That guy gives me the creeps, Nick. How can you listen to him? Do you know him or something?" Nick smiled at her, thinking that at least in this, she was exactly like Schanke. He missed his partner, and his captain, even considering all the friends he had lost over the centuries. Perhaps if he had been able to say goodbye. He started when his cellular rang, and reached for his pocket, but it fell silent after one ring. # Janette replaced the 'phone hurriedly as the stranger made his way back to the bar and slipped money under his glass. She felt determination well up within her. He might be extraordinary, but he was no match for her. Eyes glowing faintly, she waited a few seconds, then followed him out the entrance. As she cleared the rail, she beheld the stranger grappling with another, page 5 slipping and throwing blows that were unbelievably fast, even for a vampire. She started forward, furious that they had broken her edict of peace, and the new one sprang straight up into the air. He freed a weapon in midair, and fired as his feet touched the ground. She intended to let the bullet strike her, then tear the throat from the impudent mortal, but before it reached her the first stranger had some how leaped in between. The projectile slammed him into her and she tossed him off, eyes blazing terrible fire. The second stranger was somehow gone. She turned her attention on the other. He was on his feet, but swaying crazily, blood running from him in sheets. It set off her hunger, but she held it in check. She reached for him, then fell back from the crucifix in his hand. With great difficulty, he rasped, "yes, I know what you are. I can't stop you now, but know this, blood drinker. That bullet was made of wood." He collapsed. Mind whirling, she kicked the cross out of the way and carried him into Raven, shouting orders for Miklosh to call Nick, and the mortal doctor, Natalie. # The stranger rested comfortably in his own bed, known from an address taken from his thin wallet. He was recovering well despite the blood loss, (unbelievably well, Nat had confided to Nick on the 'phone), his body seeming to speed up his systems for healing. Janette had deported herself well, and all the blood he had lost was now in the sewer system. She had grumbled about the waste, but otherwise acceded gracefully. As promised, Nick was staying with her for the day, though more to hear her story of the night's events than to comfort her. # In a dank hotel room, the Korean, Pak, was meditating. Well, trying to meditate, anyway. He couldn't keep away rage about the meddling white, tempered with grudging respect for the man's abilities. He had set a perfect trap for the undead trollop, even considering the other fool he'd slain to protect his cover. He swore in his native tongue. Didn't the white know he had to destroy these creatures? He had some crazy notion about protecting them; insane, really, protecting them because his sensei had had become one of them. When the man's hunger had overpowered his disciplined mind, the jewel of Pak's life, his sister, had been brought across. Pak had been forced to end her tortured existence himself. His sworn revenge had been stolen from him also, when the old fool threw himself on one of his bokken wooden swords. He had apparently also commanded his student to protect innocent (innocent! Pak snorted) vampires from Pak's avowed destruction. Well, he had probably finished the meddler with that shot. If not, he would be so weak that Pak would have some time to finish up here and move on. Already, he was hearing rumours from Edmonton. He now had invaluable intelligence about the vampire cur. Tonight, he would lay another, deadlier trap. He picked up the single shot TC Contender, put it down. It was efficient, but not needed for tonight's trap. Smiling now, he opened the ratty curtains and basked in the ruby glow of the setting sun. # Janette was hunting, soaring in the cool air. In her mind was a perfect picture of the mortal who had nearly ended her long life. If not for the page 6 clearly deranged stranger who . . . she shut that thought away, unable to deal with the old but unfamiliar feelings that night's events had stirred in her. Tonight she would exact revenge for both . . . for ALL of them, she corrected herself firmly. She wasn't responsible for him coming so close to death. It was his choice. Right? Startled, she veered hard to miss an antenna that was suddenly in her path. # Nick and Tracey were cruising the seedy Christie Pitts area. Nick was quiet, concentrating on not holing one of the Caddy's tires on the numerous glass shards, and thinking hard about the incredible tale that Janette had related last dawn. A mortal bent on killing vampires. Not new, of course. Not old either; he remembered the old Irishman who had played an instrumental part in the destruction of the Barber, known to mortals as Jack the Ripper. In all Nick's centuries, though, he knew of no one with the fighting skills displayed by both Janette's saviour, and her would-be killer. An oriental, she had related, though an exact picture seemed beyond her. Nick found that somewhat suspicious, but it was something to go on, anyway. So they cruised the places where killers would likely find refuge without potentially embarassing questions. Somewhere in this warren of mouldering buildings and broken paving, was a mortal who had slain over a dozen of the most perfect hunters in the world. # There! Janette landed fast as her eyes picked out a figure racing over a rooftop. His ragged breathing spurred her on, the terror evident in his harsh gasps. She accelerated to catch him, no longer intending to drink, just to heave him from the roof and hear him scream as he fell. At the edge she caught him by one shoulder and spun him to face her wrath, then leaped back from the glowing cross in his hand. No more than an annoyance, really. She had dealt with the other one's crucifix last night. She sprang back in to finish it, but he rolled past her, his own motion a blur as he fastened a painstakingly crafted lignum vitae chain across her ankles. Janette screamed at the bolt of cobalt pain that fired all the nerve endings in her body, the scream echoing off buildings for blocks around, then her consciousness slammed her down to blackness. # Tracey also shrieked as Nick reared back in agony, Janette's psychic howl scraping along his bones. The Caddy slewed into the path of an oncoming garbage truck, pulled back just in time, then slid to a halt with Nick slumped over the wheel. # From his radio lair, LaCroix stiffened in response to his child's scream. Without his age, and incredible will, he also would have passed out. Hissing, eyes flaming terrible green, he raced from the studio to Janette's aid. For the first time since any of his not-quite-normal audience could remember, the Nightcralwler broadcast only dead air. page 7 # Pak's foe opened his eyes suddenly. He'd had a nightmare of a burning rope tied around his ankles, and he was struggling to understand the dream's meaning. Pak's intent washed over him, and he struggled to his feet, praying he had enough time before sunrise. # Janette's eyes opened slowly, pain still flaring along her leg, joining new pain across her breasts. In front of her, an unarmed Pak was grinning tauntingly. She started forward, was jarred to an agonizing halt. Finally looking down, she saw that he had fastened her to a chimney pipe by the wooden chain and a beautifully crafted crucifix on a silver rope. If she stayed still, it hung outside her clothes, uncomfortable but not dangerous. If she pulled it pressed against her and began smoking even through her clothes. Pak's slightly manic grin broadened. "Do you like it, creature? It belonged to my precious sister, before she was made into one of you." "You are going to die the same way she did, you know. It is more of an honour than a vile thing like you deserves. You are facing east, in case you're wondering, so in about fifteen minutes the blessed sun will cleanse the world of you. I'd like to stay and chat, but frankly, we don't have anything to say to each other." Nimbly, he hopped to the roof's edge and sprang straight out to the next rooftop, where he disappeared into the lightening skyline. # Nick had let a worried Tracey talk him into going to the hospital. Using his Voice, he commanded her to take the car home, then headed for the opposite exit after she left. Now he was trying to locate the centre of the pool of agony that Janette transmitted. He didn't need to look at the fast brightening sky; his growing pain was enough warning. Where? Where? THERE! On a distant rooftop, he could hear Janette's increasing torment, as the light, the cross, and the chain began to eat into her flesh. He raced to her, his own pain becoming unbearable. No time now. He grasped the silver rope and pulled it apart as he landed. Rather than try that with the chain, he heaved with all his terrible power and a bit more, and the entire chimney was arcing gracefully into the dawning sky. He curled his arms around her and flew straight to the ground to find shelter. # LaCroix cursed as the first rays of a sun he hadn't seen for thousands of years set him burning. No hope now for his child. He smashed the lock of a basement door and found refuge among the cooling shadows. # The sun climbed over the skyscrapers as Nick blurred along with Janette cradled in his arms. He let out one agonized gasp, and prepared to shelter his love even as he died. Suddenly, he and Janette were lifted together, then tossed bodily into a dilapidated Dodge van. page 8 The stranger threw a large Hudson's Bay blanket over them. Nick slumped over, no power left. Janette stayed mercifully unconscious. The stranger finally introduced himself as Smith, then said no more as he sped on. He raced to his apartment, squealed to a halt outside. "Can you move, blood drinker? I'll go open the door. Avert your gaze, because there is a large crucifix on it. Do you understand?" Nick nodded and prepared himself mentally for another dose of the sun. Smith opened the door wide, then went to the back doors of the van. Nick gathered all his remaining power, tucked the blanket over Janette's inert form, Then raced in a blur through the door to the shelter of the basement, trailing fetid smoke behind him. # Pak swore. He had stalked the three of them from the battleground, and now, in secure hiding, he began preparing for the final battle. # Smith stood motionless, pondering the terrible wounds on Nick and Janette. They were both unconscious and moaning their horrible pain. He was torn between the urge to end that pain, and the respect for all life that his sensei had taught him. That old man. When the brutal hunger had finally claimed him, he had brought across Li. What Pak could not know was that she was dying of cancer and had asked the old master for release. Now, Smith had a hard decision to make. But there was no decision, really. He bent painfully and shook Nick, grimacing at the burnt smell coming off the vampire. Nick pulled himself back to awareness, and stared at the powerfully built man staring at him. Smith cleared his throat and stared straight into Nick's eyes. "Can you get what you need from me without killing me, or making me like you?" Nick's lips pressed together, and he nodded. "Can she?" Nick looked at Janette, at her horrifying wounds, looked back at Smith and shook his head. Janette would drain him completely in her pain. Smith's own lips tightened. He opened his collar, bent his neck to Nick's mouth, and closed his eyes. It was done quickly, Nick refusing more. A little shakily, Smith went to the equipment that the mousy M.E. had left for his own treatment. After preparing a stand, he slid an I.V. into the big vein on his thigh, hoping she could hold on while the bottle filled. # Pak slid across the street and into a carragana row. His plan was simple this time. He would use plastic explosive on the roof, as a possibly fatal distraction for his enemies, and use the confusion to slay all of them. At his belt rested three swords: the traditional katana and page 9 wakizashi for the fool, Smith, and the same bokken that the old man had used on himself, for the two night creatures. He would not rely on fickle justice, this time. He paused on the roof, sniffing, as he was setting the charge. Smith was . . . cooking? This was going to be easier than he'd thought. The fool was obviously feeling pretty secure, and Pak's respect for his opponent dwindled. # Smith leaned woozily against the counter and watched the spinach and liver cook. His voluntary drain had been too much on top of his wound, and now his body was screaming for iron and rest. The male vampire was looking a bit better and had refused more blood. At Nick's wondering look, Smith had rasped, " its alright, man. You are what you are. Save her." Then he had deliberately turned his back and climbed out into the light. Now, Smith wondered if HE would make it. So very tired. Eyes blurring, he turned to the stove and lifted the pan, just as the explosive charge tore a chunk of the roof off. # Pak's kick and his KiAi! came together perfectly. The heavy door burst in, torn from its hinges, and the Korean leaped horizontally into the kitchen, his katana ready. Smith spun and fired the heavy pan at him, knocking the three foot razor from his hand, but, weak from blood loss and the shot wound, he was no match for the maddened Pak. The Korean spun to miss the spray of hot food, came out of the spin with wakizashi in hand. He sliced straight through Smith's hand deflection and raked him diagonally. Smith tried to counterattack, but spreading numbness washed the strength from his body, and he fell. Without pause, Pak bounded at the basement door, smashing it open and curling to tumble down the stairs, the wooden bokken now in his hand. Nick leaped to intercept Pak, but the sunlight slowed him enough that the wiry Korean smashed him back with a horrendous blow from the bokken. The white oak blade shattered, and Pak rolled to his feet and raised the handle with its wicked shards to plunge into Janette. He froze, screaming. The katana drooped from his back, where Smith had thrown it from the top of the stairs, cutting him open under the force of its own weight. That was all the opening Nick needed. The raging vampire fell on Pak, tearing out his heart and throat simultaneously. # Janette knelt beside Smith's unmoving form, long forgotten emotions tearing at her. He was almost gone, his eyes turning from their haunting grey to black. Nick was calling the forensics team, carefully staying in shadow. She suddenly knew what she had been denying for days. Resolve filled her, and she bent her feeding teeth tenderly to his neck. "Don't leave me," she commanded him with her Voice, and as gently as she could, she brought him across. page 10 # Smith awoke that night, and the suddenly awful clarity of his senses told him what had happened. He became aware of Janette by his side, aware that she was cradling him tenderly. She smiled at the look on his face as the craving struck and brought a cup to his lips. "Drink, my child. It's all right, it came from you earlier." He sucked greedily, then fell back, sated. She only held him for a long time, then slowly began to teach him a passion no mortal could know. Later, as she dozed, he sat up and stared into darkness that was no longer dark to him. As if from a very great distance, his sensei's voice came to him, and he finally understood. Rising quietly, he gathered his possessions into a bundle and set them on the kitchen table. # Janette woke slowly, wondering what had awakened her. Her internal clock told her it was the middle of the day. She remembered last night and smiled as she turned over, but he wasn't there. She listened, but of course he was an immortal now, and would be hard to hear. She straightened her gown and prowled slowly down the hall, fearful of a stray sunbeam. The kitchen was thankfully dim, blinds drawn tight. She noted that he had cleaned up yesterday's mess, then became aware of a lump on the kitchen table. She started, then realized it was only a bundle of stuff. It had an audio cassette player balanced on top with a note taped to it. Picking it up, she read the small, neat script. "Janette: This is my final gift to you. I know why you did this, and I understand and forgive you. Play the tape and you'll understand. Please forgive me. Life is precious. Love Always page 11 She plugged the tape into the wall and turned it on. the strength gave out in her legs, and she sank numbly into a chair as music floated from the speakers. Melissa Etheridge's powerful voice softly sang: "Don't be afraid" "Close your eyes" "Lay it all down" "Don't you cry" "Can't you see I'm going" "Where i can see the sun rise" "I've been talking to my angel" "And he said that its all right." The music played on, but she couldn't hear it over the roaring in her ears. An errant gust of wind blew a fine grey ash in from the porch behind the blinds. It settled gently on her hand, as if to comfort her, and mixed with the pinkish tears trickling down her face. THE END