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This author has a new email address as of November 1998

Please contact Idalia at this address <idalia@netdirect.net>

Thank You

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Date Sun, 21 Apr 1996 022358 EDT
From MS IDALIA K TAMBIEN <IdaliaK@PRODIGY.COM>
Subject Today and Every Day (1/1)

Hello, again!  Here's a *somewhat* serious story, rather than
my usual goofy, humorous ones.  Surprise!  And okay, I'll
admit it  I harbor secret N&NPack sympathies.  Oh, the
horror!  ;)
 
Very special thanks & virtual goodies go to my beta readers,
in alphabetical order  Cindy Brewer, Alora Chistiakoff,
Carrie Krumtum, Mei Wa Kwong, and Katja Stokley.
 
This piece is based on "Ladder" performed by Joan Osborne
on her album <Relish>.  (No lyric sheet there, so I had to
guess.)
 
SPOILER ALERT  This story is set shortly after "The Human
Factor."
 
Expressions of disgust or delight, & boxes of Mauna Loa
brand chocolate-covered macadamia nuts are welcome at
<IdaliaK@prodigy.com>
 
++++++
 
Today and Every Day
 
by Idalia Kakesako
 
 
 
Dr. Natalie Lambert shoved aside the great hulking door that
guarded Detective Nick Knight's home.  "Nick?" she called,
wincing as the stained monstrosity slammed shut.
 
Silence greeted her.
 
"Nick, where are you?"
 
      I'm standing here in your closet
      I'm buttoning all your clothes
      I'll sleep in your bed tonight
      But I never find you home
 
Natalie set her coat and purse on his couch and scanned the
loft.  No Nick.  <I should leave,> she thought.  But they
needed to talk.  *She,* at least, wanted to talk.  She climbed
the stairs toward his bedroom.
 
When she opened the door, her jaw dropped.  Clothes lay
everywhere.  Scattered, clustered ... almost artfully arranged
in their carelessness.  He'd been in a hurry, Nat decided.
Nick was normally quite neat and this messiness disturbed
her.  She reached down to pick up a blue silk shirt.  The soft
fabric was cool on her fingers as she hung the shirt back on
a hanger, fastening the small buttons.
 
These clothes smelled new or newly cleaned, chemical, not
like Nick.  Nat remembered his normal scent--aftershave,
cool skin, and if he'd been feeding, a slight hint of blood.
Except for that time when he'd been shot in the head and
had forgotten *what* he was and had eaten food, solid food.
His skin had been almost warm that night when they'd
kissed, and Nat wished they'd ...
 
<Oh, Nat,> she reminded herself, <that's a subject best not
explored.>  She glanced around the room, wondering what
she should do while she waited, and decided to go back
downstairs.
 
      You're giving me crooked answers
      I'm cracking your little code
      I'm learning another language
      So full it's about to explode
 
Lately Natalie had really begun to wonder if Nick wanted to
be mortal anymore.  She'd even asked him when Janette had
reappeared....
 
Janette!  She had "discovered" a cure for vampirism purely
by accident.  Nick had been searching for centuries and here
Janette, who used to be such a perfectly content vampire,
who had for some reason fled Toronto, here Janette had
become mortal.  Nat had wanted to be the one who
discovered a cure.  And she'd been frightened--not ever
wanting to admit it, but frightened nonetheless--that Nick
would turn to Janette again, resume their 800 year old
relationship, leave Nat alone.  As if she weren't alone now.
Alone with her cat, and her vampire who wanted to be
mortal.  <Well, not even with him now, huh?>
 
She'd finally asked him again yesterday, in the morning at
the end of their shift, "You do *want* to be mortal again, don't
you?"
 
He didn't answer her.   Instead, he picked up some
paperwork from her desk and asked her a question about a
current case.  And then she knew.  All the little signs
recently--the greater quantities of blood, both bovine and
human; the vamping out and whammying in public.  This was

beyond backsliding.  This was a definite change in attitude.
It was almost as if he truly didn't care anymore.  And if Nick
didn't care about a cure now, what would her purpose be in
his life?  She didn't even want to consider what the answer to
that question might be.  And yet it was important that she
know.
 
      I wanted it to be easy
      I know that I make you tired
      Sometime I get slow and lazy
      Sometime I get so inspired
 
<Why did I tell him I could help him?> Nat wondered.
<"Science has the answers," I used to say.  But does it
really?>  Nat remembered how devastated Nick had been by
the failure of the lidovuterine, and how horrible she had felt
for offering him such false hope.  <Science didn't help then,
did it?>
 
A quick and easy cure.  They both wanted something like
that, yet they both should know better.  Still, she clung to the
idea that drinking blood was the key, but she often wondered
if that was a valid assumption anymore.  But if she'd been
wrong about that....  She'd practically have to start over in
her research and trials, wouldn't she?  Nearly six years of
work, for nothing!  <But Nick's been searching for at least a
hundred years.  Why should the answer be so simple for
me?  I need to get back to work on this.  I need to start
testing again.  Maybe there are beneficial elements in his
blood?>
 
      You wanted a long flirtation
      Your plane doesn't ever land
      Some things I don't want to look at
      I don't want to understand
 
She'd been there for hours, and still no sign of Nick.  The sun
was up, she was tired, and her stomach was growling.  In his
refrigerator there was still some of the food she'd brought a
few months ago.  The bread was moldy, but some of the
other stuff was edible.  Nat bit into a slice of processed
cheese food.  Nick's bottles of blood stared at her from the
top shelf.  She picked up a half-empty bottle and uncorked it.
 
The coppery stench reminded her of the morgue, the dead
bodies.  Of one dead body in particular.  The handsome
bomb victim who'd risen up from the slab and greedily
sucked down human blood from a plastic bag.  The man
who'd warned her not to get too close to him, that he was evil
and would hurt her.  Neither, of course, had listened to his
warning.
 
But Nat had never really wanted to believe Nick was pure
evil, anyway.  He cared too much for humanity in general.
He was a cop, for God's sake!  Yet there *were* times when
his dark side emerged, when Natalie was reminded of the
predator, the killer Nick held at bay.  The thing that thrived
on human blood and pain and suffering.  The thing that desired
*her* blood, that would grab her by the neck and sink in its
fangs.
 
Nat couldn't accept that part of him.  She *wouldn't.*  This
they both knew.  <But maybe I should.  What if it's something
inside of Nick, not just a manifestation of the vampire?>
That thought gave her a chill, and Nat corked and shoved
the bottle back into the fridge.
 
Back on the couch, Nat yawned and glanced at her watch.
1030 a.m.  She'd been there at least four hours.  <Where is
he?  Has he already moved on?  He was packing, wasn't he?
Why else would he-->  She shook her head and flipped on
the TV.  <No.  Give him a chance.  He'd say something
first.>  The idle, friendly chatter of the morning talk shows
soon enveloped her, and Nat felt her eyelids begin to slip.
 
      But you give me your laughter now
      I surely believe our climb
      It don't even matter now
      I'm willing to take my time
 
"Nat?  What are you doing here?"
 
The voice so near her ear startled her, and she immediately
sat straight up on the couch.  It was dark out again, and Nick
was kneeling in front of her, a small smile tugging at his lips.
The TV still droned in the background.
 
<I must've fallen asleep.>  "Uh, hi," she said weakly, feeling
a bit like Tracy Vetter caught snooping.
 
"I thought you were upset with me," Nick said.
 
"I was."
 
Nick rose, turning his back to her.  "So why are you here?"

 
"We need to talk."  Nat shifted on the couch.  "I came here to
tell you goodbye, but it looks like you beat me to it."  She
gestured upstairs, hoping he would sense the movement.
"Were you packing?"
 
Nick turned to her, guilt and pain evident on his face.  "I
needed some time to think.  Things have been happening ...
I wasn't sure ..."  He fell silent.
 
Nat didn't answer him, merely stared at him with her eyes
narrowed.  He seemed surprised by her reaction.  <I know I
shouldn't torture him, but in some ways it feels good, a small
revenge.>  She considered dragging this out some.  <But
what real purpose would that serve?  We both need to be
honest with each other.  That might be the only thing that
could save us.>
 
After a moment, she said softly, "I've been thinking myself."
 
"And?"
 
"And I'm still willing to help you."  The brief look of hope and
gratitude that crossed his features warmed her heart.  <Who
am I fooling?>  She wasn't ready to give up on him yet,
regardless of what she'd claimed months before, or even
yesterday.  But she wasn't willing to completely melt before
him either.  "*If,* that is, you're going to stay *and* you're
willing to work *with* me."
 
Nick flashed one of his big, bright, boyish grins.  "I think I
can manage that."
 
Seeing that smile, realizing the depth of his emotion for *her,*
Nat could forgive him for Janette, for his backsliding, for
everything.  As foolish or stupid as it may seem, she did love
him and she wanted to help him.  And right now that was
enough.  "Good," she answered him, grinning right back.
 
      I'm gonna love you anyway
      Today and every day
 
      Today and every day
 
 
++++++
 
Reactions?  I've never written a story in this way before--
trying to match the plot to the lyrics of a song.  It was an
interesting experience....  I don't know how well it worked,
but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.
     --Idalia, displaying some writerly angst   )