Return-Path: Date: Fri, 27 Mar 1998 21:40:44 -0600 Reply-To: syren@INTERACCESS.COM Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Michele Alexander Subject: Weathering the Storm(0/?) To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu This is a story I've been meaning to post for a long time...its actually the second or third I ever started...and most of it was written when I had no tapes and then aquired a mere handful of them. I feel it has a blend of humor and drama much like FK itself and I have tried to be true to the charectors...but at the time I was working on memories aproximately 2 years old(scifi deprived)...WAAAAAAA, I do love having tapes at long last. Anyway I've rewritten a few scenes but for the most part this story is the same as it has always been (it does help to know where things are in the loft for instance)....those few people who have seen it before will know this as the snowstorm story. Hmm the people I need to acknowledge on this story and I'm afraid it has been so long since I started this that I don't know who everyone is anymore. Melissa from the original project to map fk toronto that floorplan of the loft was a Godsend before I had tapes...and also whoever originally drew it. June X for the original betareading a thousand years ago, knightbryd also for the early work, Nancy Taylor for her commentary and assistance, and lastly for the folks on irc last night and today that made me remember that this story existed, that I needed to post it, and who caused me to re-read my revised version and realize that the rest of it could go in a sequal. The charectors and situations of Forever Knight are created by James Parriot and Barney Cohen and owned by the various TBTB, no infringement or monetary gain is intended by this story. Timeline: sometime in third season spoilers: none that I can think of enjoy...please address all commenatary good or bad to Michele at syren@interaccess.com Weathering the Storm By Michele Alexander aka Syren (syren@interaccess.com) part (0/?) Michele(Syren)-syren@interaccess.com Twilight Knightie with N&N packer and FoD tendencies and fanfic that has tendencies of its own CR of the Knight, FK Writer's Loop, FKnight Riders, Ger's Black Harbour, ST:(OS,TNG,DS9,&V), QL, & HL Return-Path: Date: Sat, 28 Mar 1998 15:06:01 -0600 Reply-To: syren@INTERACCESS.COM Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Michele Alexander Subject: Weathering the Storm(1/?) To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Acknowledgements and disclaimers in part (0/?), oh forgot to mention for what it is worth Maller is an original charector And yes this story is finished...just don't knwo how many parts it will be. Weatherings the Storm(1/?) By Michele Alexander aka Syren (syren@interaccess.com) Reese padded down the stairs, amazingly silent for a man of his size. He opened the refrigerator looking for some breakfast. A small package of takeout food, several green glass wine bottles, and a jar with a note taped to it. On impulse, he pocketed the note. Reese opened the freezer and spotted a few microwave dinners and a frozen bag of ?pasta sauce?. "He has almost no food, but an entire BAG of frozen pasta sauce!" Reese scratched his head in amazement. The cabinets contained a few cans, a package of microwave popcorn, a six pack of pop, and an expensive coffee blend. He decided that if the storm lasted any length of time, they could probably get quite drunk on Nick's wine collection, before they starved to death. Who ever heard of chilled red wine, anyway, he wondered. He remembered the events of last night, early in the evening, wishing Dr. Lambert a safe trip as she headed out on a week long symposium on recent advances in forensic medicine. Then later stopping off at the most recent crime scene to tell everyone to call it a night because a killer snow storm was coming in. *********Crime scene the previous night************ Reese pulled into a space and snapped off the radio, just as yet another storm warning aired. He reluctantly exited the warmth of his car for the below-zero temperatures of the outside world. Knight was talking with the assistant coroner on duty as Reese approached. "You trying to get nominated to the Polar Bear Club again, Knight" The police captain asked, noticing the detective's open black leather jacket. "Do you realize it's below zero out here and you're dressed like it isn't even winter." Knight looked around for a moment; then belatedly realized everyone else was bundled up against the cold he obviously didn't feel. "I'm used to it," Knight shrugged. "Feel like nominating me, Cap?" Knight flashed an impudent grin. "I might even accept." "I just might," Reese returned gruffly. Even through the joking demeanor Reese detected the carefully disguised strain in his star detective's voice. It had been a hard night for all of them and if the office rumor mill was right it was quite possible that Knight had been 'up late' wishing Dr. Lambert a pleasant trip. "What have we got, Maller?" Reese addressed the young assistant coroner who was filling in for Dr. Lambert. "Gun shot wound. Sniper took him out with two shots, the second one made a bulls-eye through the guy's heart. Some kind of high powered rifle is my guess. We'll know more after we get him to the lab." Maller zipped up the black body bag and gestured for the two uniforms to take it away...then he pulled out a blood covered wallet. It was safely encased in a transparent evidence bag. Reese studied the wallet then handed it to Knight. The detective winced slightly at the effort of reaching for the bag. "You all right?" Maller asked, as Reese gave the detective a concerned look. "Yeah...just tired...I think I pulled a few muscles...I'm fine," Knight answered. For a moment, Reese wondered just *when* these strained muscles had occurred, then firmly dragged his mind out of the gutter, and decided Knight wasn't the only one who needed a good night's sleep. "What else do we have people?" "It looks like he ditched the weapon in a passing garbage truck, my guess is it's going to be *rather* mangled by the time we track it down. I pulled a '45 and a knife off him though. Tracy is bringin' him in with a couple of the blues, it seems the perp is *afraid* of me." Knight smiled wickedly. Maller reached into the brick wall and extracted several bullets, his skin faded to a shade of white that approached Knight's normal coloring. "Knight, you are *damn* lucky this perp didn't nail you, I count at least four bullets embedded in the wall and three of them are cop killers." All three men blanched visibly although their reasons were very different. Reese raised his voice to be audible to all the assembled officers. "All right, let's wrap it up folks, there's a real storm coming in and we don't want anyone trapped during it. Clean things up here and clear out." Fifteen minutes later they returned to the parking lot with a an icy snow laden wind already beginning to cover the streets in a blanket of white. Cars pulled out of the lot one by one, most heading home, a few who had sturdy vehicles and lived close bringing in the remaining evidence. "Go home Maller, the corpse can keep in the freezer until tomorrow, you drop off that evidence and you leave, understand. We have the killer in custody and if the weather reports are right nothing is going to be moving for the next few days anyway," Reese told the young assistant coroner. Then he turned toward Knight. "Nick, I'm heading home and I want you to do the same. We don't really have any hot cases right now. This city is about to freeze and most crimes right along with it." The last cars pulled out of the lot as Maller started his car and drove away. The two remaining men separated and unlocked their doors. Reese placed the key in the ignition then swore as the car sputtered and died. He tried again but there was no response. Reese grabbed the radio but the signal was so full of static that he knew there wouldn't be a response anytime soon. Nick placed the key in the ignition of his lovingly preserved '62 Cadillac and sighed in relief when it caught on the second try. Reese heard a knock on his window and saw Nick smiling next to his amazingly functional relic of a car. "Need a ride Captain," he asked with a smile. ******************end flashback********************* end part 1 comments and questions syren@interaccess.com Michele(Syren)-syren@interaccess.com Twilight Knightie with N&N packer and FoD tendencies and fanfic that has tendencies of its own CR of the Knight, FK Writer's Loop, FKnight Riders, Ger's Black Harbour, ST:(OS,TNG,DS9,&V), QL, & HL Return-Path: Date: Sat, 28 Mar 1998 17:58:41 -0600 Reply-To: syren@INTERACCESS.COM Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Michele Alexander Subject: Weathering the Storm(2/?) To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Weathering the Storm(2/?) by Michele Alexander aka Syren syren@interaccess.com Acknowledgements and disclaimers in part 0 Commentary and questions to Michele at syren@interaccess.com ***********End Flashback************ Reese walked into the main living area. "Geez does this guy have money from somewhere. He sure isn't paying for that home entertainment center, the piano, or those antiques on a cop's salary." All the windows were heavily shuttered against the incoming early morning light. Reese glanced at the windows. Other then the obvious heavy duty nature of them, //and they work by remote control, amazing//, he thought, there was nothing to distinguish them from the blackout curtains used by any other member of the night shift. Reese knew there was another, more sinister reason, for the darkness. Nick Knight, one of the best detectives the Metro P.D. had ever had, in spite of his eccentricities, was allergic to sunlight. Damn, to live a life completely in the shadows, it can't have been easy for him growing up, watching the other kids play in the sunshine, and knowing he could never join them. He had seen, and heard about, how Knight came into work on those rare occasions when he was needed before sundown. In the middle of summer to see someone bundled up in a long coat, gloves, hat, ski mask, and sunglasses was disconcerting in the least. Heck, to even see the roof up on the Caddy was strange. Maybe that's why he likes having the convertible, Reese mused, substituting the wind for the sunlight he can never have. The lights in the room were dim, Reese almost stumbled into the black leather couch. He looked down and found Nick sound asleep. His breathing was quite shallow and his color extemely pallid. But then Knight never got any sun, he was always pale. The guy isn't breathing hard because he's in a lot better shape then you are, he thought. His wife was always nagging him to go on a diet, to join her at the health club, he was always too busy though, trying to stop the criminals, trying to keep the city safe for his family. A faint gleam of sweat glistened on Knight's brow, painted faintly red by the dim light as his eyelids flickered in some dream, a bad dream, Reese thought. He looked tired. The face, boyish and ancient at the same time. Last night had probably taken a lot out the detective. Then Reese noticed the nearly empty bottle, the wine glass and a mug on the adjacent table. A few drops of dark red liquid lay congealing on the bottom and sides of the wine glass. All those wine bottles... he really hoped, the man didn't have a drinking problem or something. The mug was about half full of a light reddish-brown substance which had a smell and consistency similar to a milkshake with a hint of something else. He recognized the contents of the jar attached to Natalie's note...hadn't really meant to pry, just saw it and natural curiosity with detective instincts, just hadn't caught himself in time. >From what he had seen of the note Natalie was not going to be very happy with Nick. The mug had never been completely full to begin with, it looked like the detective had only had a few sips while consuming nearly a full bottle of wine. Great, he really hoped Knight wasn't going to be hung over. And that raised another can of worms; one that Reese really didn't want to deal with. He settled down in a chair to think. What was Natalie doing acting as Nick's doctor, when she obviously loved him? She might have graduated from med. school, but she was a *coroner* for heaven's sake. Talk about putting an unnecessary strain on both the doctor-patient relationship and the relationship they had/didn't have with each other. Come to think of it, every physical Nick had ever had since joining the force had been by Dr. Lambert, and she had treated every injury as well. He pulled out the note again. He knew it was wrong to read this, but he had been trained to solve mysteries. He trusted and cared about Nick Knight, the man and the cop, but he had to know the answers. And he really didn't like the scene before him. He didn't like the wine bottles, he didn't like what he remembered of the note, and he didn't like the way Nick looked lying there. If Nick was in danger there was no one he could call to help, the snowstorm had closed all the roads. In fact, it was a miracle they had reached the loft at all, most of the journey was a montage of whipping wind and burning cold, sliding wheels and frozen feet, he barely remembered it at all; Knight in that light coat...and now, like this. He didn't want to call Natalie Lambert with his mind in turmoil, what could he even say to her (if the phone lines were working, they hadn't been last night). He didn't want to accuse her, he didn't want to worry her. Against all reason she *was* Knight's doctor and he had to know why. The note contained information he needed if they were both to survive this situation; the storm could easily last for weeks. He knew Knight as well as anyone could so private a person. Knight would not tell him if anything was wrong. Nick would sacrifice himself before asking for help or endangering anyone. Joe Reese picked up the note and began to read. end part (2/?) Michele(Syren)-syren@interaccess.com Twilight Knightie with N&N packer and FoD tendencies and fanfic that has tendencies of its own CR of the Knight, FK Writer's Loop, FKnight Riders, Ger's Black Harbour, ST:(OS,TNG,DS9,&V), QL, & HL Return-Path: Date: Sun, 29 Mar 1998 17:46:49 -0600 Reply-To: syren@INTERACCESS.COM Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Michele Alexander Subject: Weathering the Storm(3/?) X-To: vamper2@aol.com To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu eep forgot to title this...sorry for the repost Disclaimers and acknowledgements part (0/?) Weathering the Storm(3/?) by Michele Alexander (syren@interaccess.com) Joe Reese picked up the note and began to read. Nick, I made you a new protein shake, I think it will taste better as well as be easier for you to digest. If this one doesn't work you still have enough left of the old one to get by for a few days. I don't care which one you drink but you had better be drinking at least half as much of *something* as you are of the damn green bottles by the end of the month.... I know this is frustrating for you, Nick. I never promised you a quick fix, only that I'd try. I can see the signs again, that you're starting to backslide. Believe in yourself, Nick. You *are* a good man and a good cop. I know that you do want this, that you do love me, even if you can never say it. I know that you're scared of failure as much as success. This is the only life you've known for a very long time. You've made such progress in the past few weeks. Every time we make progress, you start to backslide. It's more then the physical symptoms, or the addiction. Deep down you still feel that you have to atone for the past, that you are not worthy of redemption. I wish I could give you a quick fix. This slow process allows time for your doubts and fears to surface. Don't get frustrated, don't doubt yourself. Your sins are in the past, let them go as the memories they are. Please, Nick, believe in your own goodness, your humanity. I don't want to face the day when you have to leave me. I'm not asking you to go cold turkey. All our attempts at that have been a disaster. Our best chance is to wean you from it slowly. To give your body a chance to adjust. Which means you have to keep with the program, no matter how hard it gets. Believe in yourself, Nick. Don't let the past destroy your life. You are not a child anymore, he needs to learn to let go, to give you your freedom. He taught you to be a killer, but in the soul that he claims you do not have, you have always been a knight. I believe in you, in us, Forever Nat Reese sat for a long moment looking at the letter, there was a lot of it that he didn't understand. There was so much he didn't know about Nick Knight. One thing was clear, if he was reading the scene correctly Nick was definitely doing some backsliding. This information on the protein drinks and the reference to drinking *something* other than the green bottles. He had heard Nick was on a special diet. A Liquid Diet? Was it possible to be as strong and healthy as Nick otherwise was on a purely liquid diet? Did he live on Natalie's protein drinks and red wine alone? She had mentioned physical symptoms, addiction. He wished he knew what symptoms to watch for. The red liquid obviously had addictive properties yet Natalie's letter stated that her latest drink *might* be easier for him to digest. He really hoped it would be. He had no idea how he was supposed to balance Nick's dietary needs versus symptoms brought on by withdrawal, especially since they had a very limited food supply and he had no idea what else, if anything, Nick could tolerate. And then there was all this stuff on his needing to believe in himself, the sins in his past, redemption, this man who said Nick didn't have a soul, who had taught him to be a killer. It sounded like whoever had raised Knight was a real bastard. Reese would have liked to get that man, for doing something like that to a kid. Did his star detective really keep that much inside, did he really have something to feel guilty for? Knight said little of his family, now perhaps he knew the reason. There was nothing in Nick's record to indicate anything like this. But Juvie records were often sealed. Had Nick been part of some cult or criminal group as a child, been brainwashed, trained to kill? Did he really see his entire career as a cop as penance? It might explain a lot about the man...The anger that Knight barely suppressed, the guilt, the memories that so often consumed him. Even the incredible skill he has as a detective, does he know how to think like a killer because he was trained to be one? It all made a bizarre sort of sense. He had broken free somehow, that much was obvious, but the past still haunted him because he was a good man. No wonder no one has ever been able to figure their relationship out. He stared down at Knight, saw that he was again dreaming. What must his dreams be like? Reese watched him sleeping. A few of Nick's dreams were good. That was when he relaxed, sometimes even a faint smile grazed his face. Once Reese even heard him mutter Natalie's name. But far too many of his dreams were unpleasant, even nightmares. At times Nick went so still that Reese worried for him, breathing shallowly, so shallowly that the motion was invisible. Once in a long while he would take an enormous breath that chillingly reminded Reese of a corpse as the last of its air was expelled. The way Nick was breathing, the way he looked, Dr. Lambert's note, all of it had Reese very concerned.....and more than a little puzzled. He watched this strange cycle play through several times. The terrifying, almost unnatural stillness punctuated by incomprehensible muttering and occasional spastic gasps. Suddenly Knight's jaw clenched and his hands shook, alternating between tightly closed fists and clawing nails. Every muscle in his body was tight, the tension rising by the minute. The sweat beaded on his brow, and was again given a reddish cast by the dim light. His breathing was still shallow but it held a frenzied, ragged quality. Knight's voice rose and fell, but Reese could understand only the merest fragments. His limbs thrashed and his eyelids flickered, trapped in an extremely powerful nightmare. He must be running a high fever Reese thought. The police captain cursed himself for not realizing that something was seriously wrong with Knight sooner. He ran for the sink and soaked a towel with cool water and filled a bowl.... Reese stumbled back toward the couch looking for the phone, and cursing the darkness the entire way. He felt his way along the wall.) "Now where is the light switch," Reese muttered. "If not for Knight's damn allergy I could open the windows, and actually been able to see something." He hunted for a few minutes and nearly stumbled over a coffee table, catching the antique vase by luck alone...in the water bowl. Amazingly it stayed upright and he carefully replaced the slightly damp vase and it's *well-watered* flowers back on the coffee table. With a sigh, he started toward a window and carefully cracked open the steel blinds. The loft was dimly illuminated by this fragile stream of light. Reese had been careful to choose a window well away from Nick. The last thing either of them needed was to aggravate Knight's skin condition on top of whatever else was going on. He grabbed for the phone, hoping to reach Dr. Lambert, or perhaps a hospital, he hadn't really decided which. The point was moot...the phone lines were still down. "Damn," he thought. "Looks like I'm on my own." He made one last futile search for the light switch and decide that Knight must keep it on the all-purpose remote like everything else. With a sigh he grabbed a candle . Unfortunately there was nothing to light it with. He stumbled into the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet. Most people acquired large assortments of over-the-counter and prescription bottles, even if they seldom used them. There was a well-established tendency for people to not get around to throwing out those old bottles. Knight's medicine cabinet was puzzling. There were no old prescriptions at all...and not much in the way of standard over-the-counter stuff either; nothing for coughs, headaches, nothing to bring down a fever. In short there was nothing at all except a bunch of vitamins and some garlic pills. Garlic pills? Thought he was allergic to that stuff? At the very least, Reese expected some sort of skin cream or allergy medication. In fact, the police captain had been more then half expecting to find the answer here. He knew there was nothing in the bedroom, having slept there last night. No needles, pills, inhalers, there was absolutely *nothing* that Reese could do and he hated it. He *has* to take *something* for that skin condition and his food allergies, Reece thought in irritation Where the hell is his medication? What am I supposed to give him, there isn't even a thermometer or an aspirin in this blasted place? Thoroughly frustrated, the police captain finally found Knight's black leather jacket thrown over a chair, his fingers blindly stumbling through several holes in the fabric...bullet holes. Now the police captain's heart pounded with a new fear. Someone had shot at them last night. Knight had been damn lucky...or had he. To be continued... end part(3/?) Michele(Syren)-syren@interaccess.com Twilight Knightie with N&N packer and FoD tendencies and fanfic that has tendencies of its own CR of the Knight, FK Writer's Loop, FKnight Riders, Ger's Black Harbour, ST:(OS,TNG,DS9,&V), QL, & HL Return-Path: Date: Mon, 30 Mar 1998 17:21:08 -0600 Reply-To: syren@INTERACCESS.COM Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Michele Alexander Subject: Weathering the Storm(4/?) To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Disclaimers and acknowledgements part 0, original charector part 1 Weathering the Storm(4/?) by Michele Alexander (syren@interaccess.com) Comments and questions welcomed *************************************** He searched the pockets of Knight's jacket, hoping to find the detective's cellular phone. His search for medication also came up empty, and the cellular phone was nowhere to be found. Reese hurried back toward the couch and tried to decide on a course of action. Knight looked bad, really bad. Especially his breathing. His skin was extremely pale and covered in sweat. Worst of all, Nick seemed to be delirious. From illness or injury, Reese could not be sure. Knight had courted both at the latest crime scene, sniper shots and an open coat on such a cold night. He took the damp cloth and touched it to Nick's forehead, trying to mop away the sweat, and bring down the fever with the only means available. He wondered for the hundredth time about the weird lighting effect that gave his sweat that reddish cast. Knight's skin was cool to the touch, not burning up with fever. Reese had only a moment to register his confusion before Nick Knight sat up with astounding suddenness. Within the span of one gasping breath the cold unseeing eyes looked straight through Reese, then the police captain was shoved violently backword. Reese flew through the air, colliding with the black leather chair as it went over from the high-speed impact of his substantial weight. The water bowl fell uselessly from his hand spilling its contents across the floor, drenching the fallen chair...and its occupant. He lay stunned for a moment. Slowly Reese moved his head and began to take in his new surroundings. "Now *how in hell* did I end up on the floor? Could've sworn I was standing a minute ago," he muttered. The memory flooded back the instant he raised his eyes and saw Knight standing with his back turned only a few feet away. "Probably feeling guilty about pushing me...figures he'd be the type to wake up on 'alert.'" But Knight didn't turn toward him with an impish smile and an offered hand, and he didn't hurry over to make sure Reese was okay. When Knight turned his eyes were feral, and the dim light seemed to reflect in his cornflower blue eyes, turning them gold. Nick's eyes were ice cold, dangerous and deadly. Again they looked right through Reese, apparently seeing the specter of past memories in his place. His voice sent a shiver up the police captain's spine and it took all his training just to stay in place under the onslaught of those eyes. "If he uses that look on the scum I can understand why they're terrified of him." Reese murmered. The incomprehensible words were mostly curses, of that much Reese was sure, you could hear and see it from the anger in Knight's tone and the expression on his face. A few of the words sounded French, the rest were completely unknown. "I don't believe this," Reese thought. "I've heard of vivid nightmares, but *this* is ridiculous!" "Knight, Nick, listen to me," Reese said desperately. "You've got to snap out of it. It isn't happening, whatever this is, whatever happened to you; It was over a long time ago." Slowly, Knight approached...Reese searched his face for the sensitive, intelligent, and charming detective he knew...but found only a deadly, enraged predator. In desperation Reese began backing away, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and knight's deadly path. The police captain felt his foot impact with something, he flailed his arms for balance...but soon realized he was about to fall. It was the last observation Reese had time to make before he was propelled backwards by the iron force of Knight's hands. Twice more Reese was sent through the air. His last flight end hard against the loft's wall, beneath a staircase. The police Captain caught his breath only moments before Knight again sped toward him. He reached for his gun, but shooting Nick *wasn't* an option. Then his hand fastened around the antique vase moments before the fury that was once Nicholas Knight reached him. He threw the vase at Knight, the water cascading down his face even as the iron grip closed around Reese's throat. "Snap out of it Nick!" The words were wrenched from him with a strangled gasp. He looked at Nick closely, saw horrified recognition slowly dawning in his eyes, "...cap...captain..." Knight stammered. The shards of broken vase and crushed flowers fell from his hair as Knight abruptly lowered Reese to the ground. Reese nearly fell from the abrupt decent but managed to lower himself to the floor before his legs collapsed. Even as Reese went down, Nick Knight pressed his forehead against the cool bricks of the wall. His eyes were tightly shut and his hands were tight fists. Reese was patently aware that Nick was struggling for control even though the detective's face was hidden in shadow. He gave Nick a few minutes and then when the worst seemed to have passed, "Remind me never to try waking you again," Reese said dryly. Nick opened his mouth to apologize but Reese continued. "I was worried about you Nick, I still am. I hit you pretty hard with that vase and you looked like hell *before* this whole fiasco. I don't know where you got the strength to throw me across the room like that, but I do know that as soon as the adrenaline wears off, it is going to hit you like a load of bricks." Nick reached down and helped the police captain up from the floor. Again Reese marveled at the coolness of his touch and the innate strength in his hands. "Are you all right captain?" Nick's gaze fastened on the overturned chair, and the other evidence of his half-remembered activities. Reese sank into the remaining black leather chair. "I will be," he grumbled. For a moment silence reigned in the room as Knight returned to the couch pouring himself a glass of lukewarm "wine." The detective kept his eyes averted, staring off into the shadows. Even through the darkness Reese could see that Knight was struggling against his memories. "I'm sorry captain...I tend to wake up on 'alert.' A lot of people in our profession do. I should have warned you...." "Knight, you did a hell of a lot more then wake up on 'alert.' " "I'll be fine captain," Nick said, but the tightly closed eyes and the shudders of reaction that ran through his body were enough to show them both the lie of his words. "...Have nightmares like that often?" Reese ventured. "...Often enough," Knight answered as if from a great distance. His gaze lingered on the glass in his hand. Raising it to his lips, he drank deeply, finishing it in one long swallow, then grimaced slightly at the after-taste...it was the last of the bottle. Reese noted Knight's actions, but a mere glass of wine did not even require mentioning when compared with Knight's perplexing and worrisome physical condition, the bullet holes in his jacket, or the waking nightmare they had both participated in. "I'm worried about you Nick.... What I want to know is if *you're* all right." Reese studied Nick's face, the barely controlled tension that still radiated from his body. "I'm fine," Nick said tightly. "...*Are* you?" Reese locked demanding but compassionate eyes on the other man's face. "Let it be, captain," his voice was a warning. Fingers dug into black leather as Knight closed his eyes tightly. His mouth was set in a grim line as a powerful wave of anger and bloodlust tore through his body. Reese didn't understand what he was seeing, he saw only the physical pain and tension that control was costing Nick. Reese didn't realize that Nicholas Knight, eccentric star detective of the 96th precinct, was a vampire...and one who had gone far past his limits the previous night, and so every possibility that streamed through his head was hopelessly flawed. "I should have warned you, Captain... about the dangers of waking me.... I should have realized my condition would frighten you.... I was so tired last night that to be honest I forget you were here." Reese watched as guilt flooded the detective's face to be swiftly replaced by fear and...hunger. He stared in amazement as Knight darted from the room. What in hell is going on here, the police captain wondered for the hundredth time, pulling himself together. He heard the sound of the refrigerator being violently opened. Saw the flash of green glass, a cork flying across the room. Reese walked into the kitchen. Knight stood by the open refrigerator door, savagely downing a bottle of "wine." Reese walked toward him, but the detective slammed the refrigerator door and turned away. He reach for the cabinet, grabbed a wine glass, and poured the dark red liquid with shaking hands. "Nick," Reese ventured tentatively. Knight didn't answer, just grabbed the chair and sat down at the table, his back still turned and took a long sip. Reese continued to advance, he was trying to understand. "Stay away from me captain." Knight's voice had an odd quality, somewhere between a hiss and a growl. "You don't want to see me like this...and I don't...want to hurt you." ******to be continued in part(5/?)****** end part(4/?) Michele(Syren)-syren@interaccess.com Twilight Knightie with N&N packer and FoD tendencies and fanfic that has tendencies of its own CR of the Knight, FK Writer's Loop, FKnight Riders, Ger's Black Harbour, ST:(OS,TNG,DS9,&V), QL, & HL Return-Path: Date: Tue, 31 Mar 1998 15:25:36 -0600 Reply-To: syren@INTERACCESS.COM Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Michele Alexander Subject: Weathering the Storm(5/?) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Weathering the Storm(5/?) by Michele Alexander (syren@interaccess.com) ********************************** Instantly, Reese halted his approach. The detective drained the glass and sat staring at the bottle, gripping the edge of the table as if trying to restrain his hand. "Is there anything...." Reese began, his voice full of compassion. "No, Just give me some...time." Knight's muscles trembled as he spoke. Reese decided it was the better part of prudence to leave the room and retreated to the upstairs bedroom to begin trying to dry his more then slightly damp clothing. Reese was badly shaken by the scene he had just witnessed. He felt like he barely knew Nick Knight at all. How could I have not seen this before, he wondered? The man works with me every day, I partnered him with the commissioner's daughter and he's some kind of G-D damned addict. It didn't fit, none of it did. Knight was an enigma, but he *knew* the man, knew he was a good cop. How could he have missed the signs. There was nothing in Knight's records to indicate anything like this, this violence, this addiction. And there should have been. Only Natalie Lambert's letter. She knew about this, she was covering for him, how and why were a mystery. Knight was showing every sign of being an alcoholic, but if he was as far gone as the scene downstairs had seemed to indicate...then how in hell did he manage to stay sober on the job. Reese had never smelled alcohol on his breath, not once. And it should have been affecting his job performance.... Instead he was the most decorated cop in the precinct. It just didn't make any sense. A few moments later a beautiful, turbulent music filled the loft. Reese cautiously peered down the staircase and realized that Knight was playing the piano. He stood transfixed by the sound, overcome by the sheer power of the music. And he realized just how incredibly talented Knight was. The police captain was no more then a casual listener, but hearing the free flowing notes, he realized that Nick was putting his soul into the music. The style ranged widely from classical to modern and everything in-between. At first the notes were wild, pounding, filled with a savage energy. But as time went on the music became a heart-wrenchingly beautiful lament that brought tears to his eyes. Reese walked to the railing. Knight turned to look at him, the savage fury was gone, replaced by a deep peace and sadness mixed with a touch of chagrin. "That...was beautiful," Reese said, the sincere feeling evident in his voice. "...Thank you," Knight answered. "I...I don't usually play for an audience...." His eyes returned to the piano, which contained no sheet music. "I recognized some of it," Reese said. His eyes flicked to the piano, where only a half-full wine glass sat. //Well at least he's not drinking from the bottle//, Reese sighed. "Your playing without music and that last piece, it was your own wasn't it?" "Yes...it was.... I forgot you were here," Knight answered quietly. "You could have been a composer or a concert pianist," Reese observed. "Perhaps...in another life," was Knight's only answer. Reese broke the moment, knowing there were things he had to say. "Nick, we have to talk...about what happened." "I know, Captain." He glanced at himself as if noticing the muddy water, flower petals, sweat, and 'wine' which covered his hair, skin, and clothing for the first time. "Let me clean up a bit and we'll talk." He grabbed the wine glass and walked up the stairs, past Reese, not meeting his eyes. Joe Reese watched the door close, a few moments later the sound of the shower running reached his ears. He killed the time waiting for Knight in cleaning up the physical evidence of their earlier altercation. Knight had already removed the bottle and cups from the table. He cleaned the piano, then straightened the table and chairs, cleaning and drying the floor where the bowl had spilled and the vase had shattered. A half-hour later, found Reese contemplating a small glass of Natalie Lambert's latest creation as he sat on the black leather couch waiting for Knight to emerge. He sat for about ten minutes trying to ignore the questions which raged through his mind, while picking at a plate of left over Chinese from Natalie Lambert's last visit. He looked up from a fork-full to find Knight descending the staircase. He wore a blue silk shirt and dark pants. The color suited him, Reese observed. Subtly muting the almost unnatural pallor of his skin while bringing out the gold in his dark blond hair and accenting his eyes. The shirt was collared, a button-down, more formal then most guys would have worn off duty, yet it suited Knight somehow. The out-of-control addict had been replaced by the elegant, charismatic detective he remembered. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it, he thought. As he walked toward Reese the self-assured air faded. "I see you cleaned up a bit," Knight observed, flashing his boyish grin, but his eyes veered away, looking everywhere but at Reese...or the glass in his hand. Reese extended the glass toward him. "It's Natalie's latest, I think you're supposed to be drinking...this." He didn't have to mention the green glass bottles, the words hung heavily in the air, unspoken between them. "Thank you." Nick extended his hand toward the glass, placed it on the table. He contemplated the reddish liquid for a moment before speaking. "I'll need them both," he said, giving Reese an apologetic glance. "This is *very* difficult for me, captain. I'm still far too on edge." The admission came in a very quiet voice, Reese knew the words were an extreme effort. "I need it...for the control it will give me." "The control it will give him?" Reese mulled that statement while Nick retreated into the kitchen and retrieved another wine glass, "control over what?" A moment later Knight returned. He sat down in the adjacent black leather chair, placing the now brimming wine glass on the table between them. He took a patently forced sip of the protein shake and swallowed. The look on his face would have been comical in any other situation. "Like a dog trying to shake a bone," Reese thought. "You'd think it tasted like poison from how much he seems to enjoy drinking it." Reese had tried a small sip earlier out of curiosity and it had been a *little* odd, nowhere near as bad as Knight was making it out to be. The detective stared at an invisible spot on the floor for so long, Reese thought he had gone off into another one of those trances. "Knight," he said, just a bit of impatience creeping into his voice. The homicide detective looked everywhere but at Reese, unable to meet the police captain's eyes. Reese realized that the normally unshakeable Nicholas B. Knight was *very* nervous. Nick started speaking half a dozen times, trying to choose his words, while displaying every nervous habit he had ever acquired in the course of his nearly eight hundred years. Reese watched the display in utter amazement. Knight looked into the fireplace as if it contained the answers to all life's mysteries. He started playing with the remote, turning things on and off. (Fortunately he managed to avoid the buttons for the windows, or Reese would have been sitting next to a very barbequed vampire.) Whoever heard of a remote control fireplace, Reese mused. This place just gets weirder and weirder by the minute. Finally the detective rose from his chair and began pacing. "He's going to wear a hole in the carpet (and my nerves) at the rate he's going," Reese thought. Just when the police captain was about to conclude that Knight was NEVER going to get to the explanation, he turned toward Reese. With deliberate action, Knight lifted the wine glass and took a sip. Reese understood the purpose of the action, even as it concerned him. It had been meant to get his attention, and it had. *********end part 5********** Continued in part(6/?) Michele(Syren)-syren@interaccess.com Twilight Knightie with N&N packer and FoD tendencies and fanfic that has tendencies of its own CR of the Knight, FK Writer's Loop, FKnight Riders, Ger's Black Harbour, ST:(OS,TNG,DS9,&V), QL, & HL Return-Path: Date: Wed, 1 Apr 1998 02:28:32 -0600 Reply-To: syren@INTERACCESS.COM Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Michele Alexander Subject: Weathering the Storm(6/6) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Acknowledgements, disclaimers, author's note part 0, original charector part 1 Weathering the Storm(6/6) by Michele Alexander(Syren) (syren@interaccess.com) ******************************************* "I know what you think you saw." Knight resumed pacing as he spoke. "You think I have a drinking problem." He paused and gave a bitter laugh. "I only wish...it were that simple." He surprised Reese by suddenly spearing a bite from his plate. "I thought you couldn't eat this stuff." He chewed and swallowed with such obvious effort that Reese knew the answer before he spoke. "I can't, not more then a few bites anyway, but Nat wants me to keep trying." He flashed that impish smile then turned away, the look of hopelessness and longing so apparent on his face that Reese practically cried. His heart went out to Knight. It's got to be torture for both of them, he thought. But why does she cover for him, why act as his doctor when there are treatment programs that could answer both their prayers at the very least a real doctor. "Drinking isn't the answer Nick. there are people who can help you, talk to you. I don't know how you do it, but if you have the strength to stay sober on the job, I know you can break this. Whatever it is." Knight regarded the wine glass for a moment then turned toward the darkened windows, a wistful expression on his face. With stoic resolve he lifted the other glass and choked down another mouthful, then forced himself to finish half of it. Reese watched it all, his confusion increasing by the moment. Knight was obviously struggling for every mouthful. Not only did he seem to despise the taste, but it seemed to be making him almost physically ill. A moment later this impression was reinforced as the detective looked at the wine glass longingly then toward the other cup and the window as if weighing something. Knight raised the protein shake to his lips and instantly recoiled. His face drained of what little color it had and took on a greenish tinge. His jaw and fists were clenched. He swallowed convulsively, fighting for control. With a shaking hand, the detective reached for the wine glass, and took a long sip, fighting the urge to drain it and reach for more. Finally he took a deep breath and met Reese's concerned gaze. The improvement was astounding. The frightening pallor and greenish tinge were gone. Knight still looked slightly unwell, but compared to a few moments prior he was the picture of health. The words of Natalie's letter came back to him and Reese finally began to understand what Knight was trying to show him. All of it had been a show to illustrate what Knight could not express in words. Reese recalled the almost total lack of food in the loft. The Chinese which Nick really couldn't eat. Even the protein drinks which he could just barely manage. The most used machines in the loft were the coffee machine and the blender and now Reese knew exactly why. "It's more than an addiction, I need this to survive," Knight said raising the wine glass. "Nat was able to borrow a tunneling microscope last year. She found a virus, extra-nucleotide sequences in my blood. I was infected with it deliberately...I agreed to it I suppose, not that I really knew what it meant...I was far to innocent nieve, disillusioned...blinded by emotion...unable to truely understand. i've lived with this gift, this curse this incessant hunger ever since. He paced toward the other side of the room, back turned, idlely playing with the pill box from nat, remembering....then he walked ominously forward...the rage and despair paletable in his every movement. She has been doing tests on me since the day we met, trying to find a cure. I've found it hard to see it that way...even after I saw the proof. For so long I have believed only in my own damnation...that I was nothing but a souless monster, unworthy to face the light of day. His eyes were a storm of frightening intensity, dark pits that seemed to swallow all the light in the room. His whole stance seemed to project overwhelming menace as he violently dashed the empty cup to the floor. Yet beneath it all was such terrible self-hatred, loneliness and despair. "It is a terrible irony. Without this *curse* I would never have met her, yet because of it we can *never* be together." The empty glass was slammed against the table it teetered as if in slow motion then feel to teh floor in a rain of shattered glass. The harsh sound seemed only to excentuate his emotions and the Detective began to pace once more. Reese felt like telling him to stand still, this incessant movement was making him dizzy. Instead he just tried to understand. He instinctively realized that this was something Knight never told anyone, and it was damn strange, frightening. It was as if Knight was trying to scare him away, and yet he was also reaching out, looking for an anchor in this storm of emotion and memory. Terrifying, but incredibly vulnerable at the same time. He knew this fragile trust could be broken by a single wrong word...and the consequences of doing so.... Joe Reese was no longer sure he knew the man before him, at all. The consequences could be...anything. When Reese glanced up again the storm in Knight's eyes seemed to have lessened, now the longing was more apparent, the hopelessness, and his eyes shone with unshed tears as he spoke. "She gave me so much hope.... She found a treatment, a drug, rejected in the test phase because it would have been lethal to...anyone else. It deactivated the virus in my blood, but it didn't last. I needed more and more of it, and it changed me, made me paranoid, delusional. It nearly got me killed. If I had known it would only last a few days, I would have spent them with her, taken her on sunlit walks, romantic dinners, fulfilled all the dreams we can never have." His face changed then, lightened by the ghost of a smile, his eyes distant as he remembered some brief moment of happiness in his world of darkness. Finally Reese spoke, unable to watch Knight tear himself apart any longer. The things Nick had said pointed to a man who was deeply depressed, one who seemed to take the weight of the world on his shoulders, and felt it belonged there. A man who drank to silence the pain inside. But then there was Natalie's letter. Over and over again she had professed her love, begged him to believe in himself. He could never say it because he did not feel he deserved her. //He's put her on a dammed pedestal// Reese realized. Someone had given Nick this distorted view of himself, Natalie had said it herself in her letter. The man who said Nick didn't have a soul. He sees himself as damned, just because he can't go out in sunlight. Could it be that simple? Had some twisted person decided that his allergy was the proof of damnation? Had they told him that as a child, made him hate, torture himself all these years? And what was this about a virus? It was all Reese could do to stop himself from shouting for the answers. He wanted desperately to make someone pay for what they had done to the man before him. And then he realized what he was doing. He calmed himself. Spoke in a gentle voice. "Who told you these lies, Nick. I know the kind of man you are. I've seen how much you care, about everyone. Don't put her on a pedestal, Nick. Natalie Lambert is a wonderful woman, but she isn't an angel, and she doesn't want to be. She loves you Nick, so many people care about you. But you won't let them help you, you shut everyone out. You're not some demon incarnate. Just because you have this condition, doesn't mean being barred from the sunlight has to be a metaphor for your entire life. I don't care what that man told you, what he's still telling you, unless I miss my guess. You are *not* some soulless monster and if you won't believe it from Natalie then believe it from me." The end(for now) Yes there will be a sequal. And probably more stories I'm just not totally sure when. The working title is "Eye of the Storm"...among other things it will address what is happening in the world outside the loft. Well this is it folks...I've been stunned by the possitve responce and I want to thank each and every person who has written I've tried to respond to all of you but I'm sure I've missed some. And once again I want to thank all the folks who encouraged me over the years to finish and post this story...now to go look at all the others that I shoulda posted long ago. Permission given to archive at www.fkfanfic.com and the ftp site, all others please ask. Thank you for reading, Michele(Syren)-syren@interaccess.com Twilight Knightie with N&N packer and FoD tendencies and fanfic that has tendencies of its own CR of the Knight, FK Writer's Loop, FKnight Riders, Ger's Black Harbour, ST:(OS,TNG,DS9,&V), QL, & HL