Date: Thu, 1 Jan 1998 01:32:20 -0600
To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com
From: cgi271@airmail.net (Cindy Ingram)

     OK, I know it's after Christmas, but I didn't get this finished until
now. It isn't New Year's Day yet, so I figure it still counts, right? This
is a little pre-first season Christmas tale, a sequel of sorts to my
Halloween Challenge story, "Shades of the Unknown." It isn't necessary to
read that one first, but if anyone is interested, you can e-mail me for the
story. It's also archived at the ftp site:
ftp://cac.psu.edu/pub/people/lms5/fkfiction
     Disclaimer: The story is based on characters created by J. Parriott
and B. Cohen for the Forever Knight television series, which all belong to
TPTB. I'm merely borrowing them for a short time.

     This story may be archived at Mel's FK fanfic site and at the ftp site.

     Hope you enjoy ...


Yes, Amy, There Is a Santa Claus (1/2)
By Cindy Ingram

     Nick felt ridiculous. Quickly taking refuge in the sheltering darkness
of a large oak tree, he asked himself, not for the first time, just what
insanity had compelled him to devise such an outlandish plan.
     It had to have been the eggnog, of course ...

-------

     Earlier that evening, Natalie had watched with an unsympathetic grin
as Nick's desperate attempts to refuse the seasonal beverage were gently
but firmly rebuffed by Nat's sister-in-law. At her Christmas Eve gathering,
Sarah Lambert, ever the attentive hostess, had been determined to make Nick
feel like one of the family. That meant including him in all of the Lambert
holiday traditions -- particularly the annual eggnog toast.
     The aloof and somewhat reticent detective had initially come to
Sarah's attention two months earlier when Natalie had dragged Nick along on
a family outing to 7-year-old Amy Lambert's school Halloween carnival. He
had loosened up after a time, and had actually seemed to be enjoying
himself at the game booths, winning prize after prize for the ladies in the
group.
     But Sarah hadn't been fooled. She'd recognized Nick for exactly what
he was -- a lost and lonely soul -- and she'd wasted no time in taking him
under her wing. Her maternal instincts had kicked into high gear,
transforming the normally mild-mannered young woman into an irresistable
force.
     Her invitation to spend Christmas Eve with the Lamberts had born all
the earmarks of an official summons. Nick hadn't dared to refuse.
     And in truth, he hadn't minded. He had even looked forward to it. He
found, much to his growing delight, that the more time he spent with
Natalie and her family, the more human he felt. Although still careful to
avoid close contact with other colleagues and aquaintances, over the last
several weeks he had formed a tenuous yet strangely tenacious connection
with the Lamberts.
     Whether or not it was wise to pursue such a relationship with a mortal
family was something that, for the moment at least, Nick chose not to
ponder too deeply.
     Not that he could ever forget who and what he was. The vampire ... his
beast ... was always with him -- waiting, watching, hoping for a chance to
break free of the tight control he maintained. But quiet evenings spent
over a game board, around a piano, or in front of a television set gave him
a chance to push the beast aside, at least for a time, and simply enjoy the
company of people he'd come to look upon as dear friends.
     Natalie understood the positive effect it had on him, and it pleased
her. He could see it in her eyes each time she caught his gaze with her own
and smiled. Which, in turn, pleased him.
     In fact, he'd been *so* pleased in general with the way things were
going, that he'd failed to notice how subdued Natalie's niece had been
throughout the holiday gathering. Even after she had quietly said goodnight
to the adults and trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, he hadn't realized
there was anything amiss.
     So it surprised him when, as soon as Amy was out of earshot, Natalie
heaved a deep sigh and shook her head.
     "She's taking it hard, isn't she?" she asked, shooting a sympathetic
look toward her brother and his wife.
     Richard's answering sigh may have been all the confirmation Natalie
needed, but a bewildered Nick listened closely as Sarah, with a quick
glance toward the stairway, replied.
     "She's hardly eaten anything, and tonight she didn't want any hot
chocolate. She *loves* hot chocolate." She shook her head helplessly. "It's
so frustrating, too, because just the other day, Richard and I were talking
about when we should tell her the truth. She's growing up so fast, but we
thought we had at least another year before we had to make that decision."
     Richard broke in.
     "It tears me up that she had to find out this way. *We* wanted to be
the ones to tell her, but ... " His voice trailed off as he shrugged
helplessly. "And it's even worse than we thought. She finally told Sarah
the rest of it. They laughed at her and called her a baby."
     "Oh, no," Natalie breathed, a pained expression crossing her face.
Catching sight of Nick's puzzled look, she hurried to explain.
     "Last week, just before school let out for the holidays, one of Amy's
classmates told her that there really isn't a Santa Claus."
     Natalie paused, silently commiserating with her niece, and Amy's
mother continued the story.
     "She didn't believe it, at first," Sarah told Nick. "But then a couple
of the other girls joined in. When she came home, she was crying. She's
been so upset ever since."
     Sarah seemed dangerously close to shedding a few tears of her own.
Nick, not quite certain how to respond, remained silent.
     "I never got a chance to ask," Natalie interjected. "What did you say
to her?"
     "I didn't really know *what* to say," Sarah replied. "I should have
told her the truth and tried to explain things, but it took me by surprise.
I told her that some people didn't believe in Santa Claus, but that doesn't
mean they're right. There are some things we just have to take on faith ...
no matter what anyone else says."
     She shook her head in disgust. "I couldn't say yes, and I couldn't say
no. Instead, I just confused the issue. Some mother I am."
     Natalie hastened to reassure her.
     "You're a terrific mother, Sarah. It's not easy knowing the right
thing to do or say in a situation like that. And speaking as someone who
asked for the truth and got it -- right between the eyes, I might add --
having your illusions shattered beyond any hope of salvation is not
necessarily a good thing."
     A lopsided smile quirked Natalie's lips as she exchanged a  pointed
look with her brother.
     "Personally," she stated firmly, "I'd do whatever I could to keep that
from happening to someone I love."

     A short time later, after bidding Richard and Sarah goodnight, Nick
escorted Natalie out the front door and down the sidewalk to the waiting
Caddy. He helped her into the car, then settled himself behind the wheel.
Turning the key in the ignition, he cleared his throat and posed the
question he'd put off asking until they were alone.
     "What did you mean by that, Nat? When you said you asked for the truth
and got it right between the eyes."
     For a moment, he wondered if the wry smile she gave him would be her
only answer. Then she took a deep breath.
     "When I was a little girl, I asked Nana how Santa Claus could be in so
many different places at the same time. It seemed like everywhere we went,
there he was, ringing a bell on a street corner or sitting in a department
store. So I finally asked why. And she told me."
     "What did she tell you, Nat?"
     "The truth. The unabridged, unvarnished, inescapable truth. That he
didn't exist. That he wasn't real. That he was someone parents made up so
that every time their children didn't behave the way they wanted them to,
they could threaten to tell Santa, and then he wouldn't bring them any toys
for Christmas." She snorted softly. "At least, that was the way *Nana* saw
it."
     "How did that make you feel?" The question was out before Nick
realized it. It was too late to call it back. He wasn't sure how she would
respond to such a personal question. They'd talked a great deal in the few
months they had known each other, but rarely had they delved too deeply
into thoughts and feelings. The few times they had, those thoughts and
feeling had always been his, not hers.
     There was nothing in Natalie's response, however, to indicate that
Nick had crossed an invisible line. Her reply came without hesitation.
     "I was devastated." Although her tone was matter-of-fact, Nick was
sure he could detect a slightly wistful note in her voice.
     "I was pretty young at the time. All my friends still believed, and I
didn't want to do anything to disillusion them." She shrugged slightly. "I
didn't want to hurt them ... so I pretended to believe, too."
     "That must have been hard," Nick ventured.
     She smiled in rueful acknowledgement.
     "You could say that. But Richie made it easier."
     "Richie?"
     "Yeah." She smiled again, this time with real amusement. "I was
determined my little brother wouldn't find out the truth until I thought he
was old enough to handle it. Say ... when he turned 31?" She chuckled
softly. "I was so busy over the next few years trying to keep Santa Claus
alive for him -- I got to be pretty good at pretending.
     "One year, I sprinkled some flour on the hearth in front of the
fireplace and used Dad's shoes to make tracks. I told Richie that Santa had
tracked snow into the house when he came down the chimney to deliver our
presents."
     Natalie laughed outright at the memory as Nick grinned in response.
     " When he asked why the snow wasn't melting, I told him it was *magic*
snow -- the kind you could only find at the North Pole. His eyes went all
big, then he scraped up all the flour and put it in a box that he kept on
the nightstand next to his bed."
     She laughed again, smiling gently.
     "I still tease him about that one."
     "So what happened?"
     "Oh, he eventually figured it out on his own. But by that time, he was
ready. I just wish Amy had had the chance to do the same. It's hard at that
age -- not having something to believe in."
     She sat quietly for a moment. "It's hard at any age," she whispered,
more to herself than to him, Nick thought.
     For the rest of the drive, the two were relatively silent, lost in
their own thoughts. After Natalie disappeared through the front door of her
apartment building, Nick aimed the Caddy toward the warehouse district and
his loft, which he was gradually starting to think of as home.
     But as he drove, an idea began to take shape. And the harder he tried
to dismiss it, the more insistent it became ...

-------

     Thus it was that, instead of going home, Nick had found himself taking
an unscheduled detour by the precinct station house. Using the pretext of
picking up something he'd left in his locker, the blond homicide detective
had instead absconded with a Santa Claus suit. It was the same one worn
earlier that day by a sergeant handing out presents to families adopted by
the precinct's officers and civilian staff.
      Almost before he knew it, he was back in the Lambert's front yard,
this time exercising his preternatural senses to make certain all inside
were safely asleep. Then it was time to go to work.
      Nick gave a cautious tug to make certain the silky white beard was
securely in place, then reached down to adjust the padding that had shifted
slightly to one side during the flight from his loft to the Lambert house.
Already feeling foolish enough, he'd refused to add insult to injury by
tooling around town in the Caddy while dressed as a jolly old elf.
     Shaking his head in disbelief over what he was about to do, Nick
stepped out of the shadows and quickly levitated over the back yard fence.
With just the right amount of pressure, he was able to lift the glass
sliding door out of its track long enough to gain entry before restoring it
to its original state.
     He made a quick mental note to talk to Richard about burglar-proofing
his home, then found his way to the open doorway of the second-floor master
bedroom. A few soft words whispered into the ears of a half-awakened
Richard and Sarah was all it took to ensure there would be no interference
from that quarter.
     In a flash, Nick returned to the downstairs living room where he
emptied the three stockings that Amy's parents had painstakingly filled
after she'd gone up to bed. For good measure, he retrieved a few presents
from beneath the tree, placing them inside the red velvet bag he'd also
"borrowed" from the precinct.
     He paused for a moment, gazing thoughtfully around the room. The
chimney was out of the question, even for a vampire. He'd have to think of
something else. Slowly, his gaze turned upward ...

     Minutes later, Nick was patiently stomping back and forth across the
roof that stretched over Amy's bedroom, little puffs of vaporized breath
trailing in his wake. Feeling more than a bit ludicrous, he was about to
give up and reevaluate the situation when a gradual change in Amy's
breathing pattern told him he'd finally succeeded in awakening her.
     An unexpected wave of enthusiasm washed through Nick, promptly causing
him to forget any misgivings he might have had about the task at hand. He
resumed his stomping with a renewed fervor.
     After clomping his way over to the chimney, he flew to the ground and
slipped back into the house. By the time he heard the soft padding of her
footsteps on the thick carpeting overhead, he was already hard at work
stuffing handfuls of candy, fruit and nuts back into the dangling Christmas
stockings.
     With his vampiric senses, he tracked the little girl's stealthy
progress down the long hallway that led to the top of the stairs. He heard
her pause at her parents' room, where she no doubt saw the sleeping pair
snug in their bed and blissfully unaware of the strange noises emanating
from the living room below.
     Smiling behind his beard, Nick continued his work, ignoring the
tell-tale creaking of the steps as little feet crept cautiously down the
stairway. Instead, he feigned total absorption in the task of filling the
stockings.
     Tucking away the last candy cane, he heaved a dramatic sigh and turned
toward the Christmas tree. Out of the corner of one eye, he caught a
glimpse of a small, pajama-clad figure peeking around the doorframe. He
hefted his bag, then paused, tilting his head to one side and snapping his
fingers as though suddenly remembering something.
     Placing the bag on the floor, he reached inside and carefully withdrew
first one present, then another -- both marked, "For Amy" and "From Santa."
As he stooped to place them under the tree, he appeared to notice the
little girl's presence for the first time.
     Her eyes were large and round, and her mouth formed an "O" of surprise
as she stood in the doorway, seemingly spellbound. But when his nose
crinkled up in a grin and he winked at her, placing one finger to his lips,
he was answered by the slow dawning of a radiant smile that grew and grew
until it lit up her entire face.
     Scooping up the now empty bag, Nick started to turn away, hoping it
wouldn't occur to Amy to wonder why Santa was able to come down the chimney
but had to leave by the front door. He'd taken no more than a step when he
heard a hushed, "Wait!"
     Looking over his shoulder, Nick's eyes followed the little girl's
pointing finger to a nearby coffee table, where a half-eaten cookie and a
half-drained glass of milk rested on a brightly colored Christmas tray.
     "You didn't finish them," Amy whispered. "Mommy says it's not polite
to let things go to waste."
     Struggling to retain his smile, Nick reluctantly moved to the table,
his mind racing as he tried to think of a graceful way out of this latest
development. Failing dismally, he squared his shoulders and reached for the
milk. With the slight tolerance he'd developed for Natalie's awful protein
shakes, Nick decided it might be wiser to tackle the drink first.
     He quickly downed the noxious white liquid, and with a superhuman
effort, refrained from gagging. For the first time that night, Nick was
actually grateful for the tickling white beard since it succeeded in hiding
his uncontrollable grimace.
     Returning the glass to the table, he gingerly picked up the cookie and
took a small bite. He made a great show of chewing it up, without
swallowing, of course, nodding enthusiastically even as he fought off the
urge to spew the offending crumbs halfway across the living room.
     Fortunately for them both, Amy didn't appear to notice either his
strained expression or the odd reversal in food order -- milk first, cookie
second.
     Still clutching what was left of the cookie in his hand, Nick offered
Amy a cheery wave and headed for the front door. Once outside, he spat out
the unpalatable mouthful in a blur of vampiric speed, consiging it to the
bushes that bordered the front porch. The rest of the cookie
surreptitiously disappeared into his bag.
     After checking to make sure no one else was around, Nick turned back
to Amy, who now stood in the open doorway. With a final wave, he rose
slowly into the air. For the second time that night, her jaw dropped open
in amazement. She tilted her head back to watch in rapturous wonder as he
floated gracefully to the roof of the house.
     Nick poked his head back over the side in time to see Amy run out into
the yard, craning her neck, no doubt hoping to catch a glimpse of a sleigh
and eight tiny reindeer. Catching her eye with a stern but twinkling look,
he shook his head and motioned her back inside, waiting until she
reluctantly complied. He then stomped around on the roof a few seconds more
before finally whooshing away into the night.

-------

     It was the night after Christmas, and the precinct was buzzing with
activity. Definitely a change from the previous evening, Nick thought, when
he and a skeleton crew of detectives and officers who were either
unmarried, Jewish or both had volunteered to hold down the fort.
     Leaning back in his chair, Nick turned away from the paperwork that
littered his desk. Glancing around, his attention focused on two uniformed
officers intent on untangling several strands of shiny red tinsel that had
spent the better part of two weeks wrapped around a post in the center of
the squad room.
     Across the hall, he spied Sgt. Norm Flanders. The sergeant was
carefully packing away the red and white Santa Claus suit, which wouldn't
be seen again until this time next year. A faint smile touched Nick's face
as he watched an all-too-familiar white beard follow the suit into the box.
     With a sigh and a slight shake of his head, Nick pulled his attention
back to the stack of half-finished reports. The only drawback to working
without a partner, he thought sourly, is that there's no one to share the
paperwork.
     He glanced at the wall clock, wondering if Nat was on duty yet and
trying to think of a good excuse for stopping by the morgue to see her. He
briefly considered asking when the final report on the Millhouse autopsy
would be ready but knew it was way too soon for that.
     Nick hadn't spoken to Natalie in almost 24 hours, not since she'd
called briefly the night before to wish him a Merry Christmas. They'd
exchanged just a few words before Nick had been called out to the scene of
a possible homicide. By the time he'd returned, it had been too late to
call her back.
     Deciding to give it another half hour, Nick idly picked up a gold pen
from his desk and held it up to the light, admiring, for perhaps the
umpteenth time that evening, how brightly it gleamed as he turned it this
way and that. He rolled it between his fingers until he could once again
read the name engraved on the side: Det. Nick Knight.
     A Christmas present from Natalie -- the first he'd received in a long
time. He'd carried it tucked away in the pocket of his jacket ever since
she'd given it to him, just before the Lambert's Christmas Eve gathering.
     He wondered if she was taking equal pleasure in the gift he'd chosen
for her -- a lovely blue scarf, outrageously expensive, that perfectly
matched the color of her eyes. During the warm summer months, she'd
laughingly complained that riding in his Caddy with the top down played
havoc with her hair. Later, when he had puzzled over what to get her for
Christmas, a scarf had seemed the perfect answer.
     She's bound to be at the morgue by now, Nick thought, as he rose and
reached for his jacket. He'd just have to think of a good excuse on his way
over there.
     At that moment, Natalie walked through the door of the squad room,
carrying a file folder and heading in his direction. His welcoming smile
grew even bigger when he realized she was wearing the blue silk scarf he'd
given her.
     "Hey, you," she said by way of greeting. "Going somewhere?"
     "No," he replied, hastily discarding the jacket. "Actually, I was just
settling in to do some paperwork. I don't suppose you'd take pity on me and
give me an excuse to put it off a while longer, would you?"
     "Oh, I don't know." Natalie looked at him and grinned. "I suppose I
might be persuaded."
     Nick grinned back, causing more than one person in the squad room to
do a double take. It wasn't often his colleagues were treated to the sight
of the somber, sometimes even scary, Det. Knight grinning like a schoolboy.
     Nick snagged a nearby chair for Natalie and placed it beside his desk.
As they sat down, he looked at the file she carried, raising his eyebrows
expectantly.
     "Something for me?" he asked.
     "Actually, no. It's a report that Capt. Stonetree's been waiting for.
In fact, I was on my way to deliver it personally, but it seems I was
waylaid by a detective in distress who begged for help and threw himself on
my mercy." She heaved an exagerated sigh, shaking her head in mock
helplessness. "What's a poor coroner to do?"
     Nick chuckled, not noticing -- or perhaps ignoring -- several
interested looks now aimed at the two of them.
     "I'll try not to keep you too long," he promised. "I certainly
wouldn't want to wear out my welcome by imposing too much."
     "Not a chance," she assured him. "Besides, it's almost the new year,
and everybody gets to start with a clean slate. So, impose away."
     Nick smiled again. A comfortable silence fell between them, which he
finally broke.
     "So ... did you have a nice Christmas?" he asked.
     "It was wonderful. One of the best ever, I think. Of course, they've
all been pretty good the last few years, but this one was special."
     "Oh? Why is that?"
     "Because I was so worried about Amy, and then I found out there was no
reason to be."
     "So she's OK now?" Nick asked. "With the Santa Claus thing, I mean?"
     "Believe it or not, she's fantastic. I showed up on the doorstep
Christmas morning expecting the worst, and no sooner do I knock than she
throws open the door, screams 'Merry Christmas, Aunt Natalie!' and throws
her arms around me in a big hug that almost knocked us both into the
bushes." Natalie folded her arms and shook her head, grinning happily at
the memory. "I don't know what got into her, Nick, but whatever it was, I'm
grateful for it. That is one happy little girl."
     Leaning one elbow on the desk, Natalie rested her chin in her hand as
she gazed at Nick.
     "And you know, the funny thing is, she believes in Santa Claus again."
     Nick feigned surprise.
     "Really?"
     "Yeah. Go figure." Nick watched as a bemused Natalie shook her head.
"I don't know, maybe it was a delayed reaction to Sarah's talk with her.
Maybe she just decided she *wanted* to believe. To tell you the truth, I
was afraid to question it too closely."
     "She didn't give a reason for the sudden change?"
     "Not a word. In fact, she--" Natalie broke off in surprise as she
spotted her brother entering the squad room. He headed straight for Nick's
desk.
     "Richard, how are you?" Nick stood and greeted the younger man,
reaching out to shake his hand while moving to pull up a third chair.
     "That's OK, Nick," Richard told him, waving him off. "I just stopped
by long enough to deliver an invitation to our New Year's Eve party.
Natalie got hers yesterday."
     He shot a knowing grin at his sister, before adding, "Oh, and Sarah
said to tell you she expects to see you there by 9 o'clock at the absolute
latest, or she'll hunt you down and drag you there herself."
     Faced with Sarah's ultimatum, Nick's protest died  before he even had
a chance to voice it. Casting a helpless look in Natalie's direction, he
nodded, his expression a mixture of resignation and amusement.
     Natalie tried, without much success, to hide her own amusement as she
turned to her brother.
     "I was just telling Nick about Amy's amazing transformation. I still
can't believe she's the same little girl who spent the past few days moping
around the house."
     "It is pretty hard to believe," Richard agreed. "But now I know what
brought about the big change. She finally spilled the beans. She was so
excited, she had to either tell us or burst."
     Nick, trying hard not to look more than casually interested, waited
with bated breath to hear what would come next.
     "She had a dream."
     The pent up breath escaped in a relieved sigh that luckily went
unnoticed by the other two.
     "A dream?" Natalie echoed.
     "Yeah. She had a dream that she saw Santa Claus in our living room and
that he was filling up the stockings and putting presents under the tree.
Of course, she doesn't think it was a dream. To her, it was all very real."
     "And that's what turned everything around for her?"
     "Mmm-hmm," Richard confirmed. "That's all it took. All I can say was
that it must have been some dream. She's already planning ahead for next
year. Can you believe it? She says she wants to leave a different kind of
snack for him. For some reason, she's convinced he didn't like the cookies
we left out.
     "I don't know what made her think that," he added, obviously puzzled.
"I ate all of them, except for one. I left half of it. Thought it would
make a better effect that way, but I guess not. Funny thing is, though,
when we went down that morning, it was gone. So was the milk. I think Sarah
finished it off, but she won't admit it. She probably thinks it's a good
joke."
     Nick, suppressing a shudder at the mention of his milk-and-cookie
nightmare, froze as he noticed a perplexed look cross Natalie's face.
Little warning bells started going off in his head as she turned to her
brother.
     "You say she didn't think he liked the snack you left for him," she
repeated slowly. "Why do you suppose she would dream something like that?"
     "Who knows?" Richard shrugged. "I guess for the same reason she
dreamed he left by the front door instead of the chimney, and that he flew
up to the roof of our house instead of calling for the reindeer to come
down and pick him up.
     "What can I say?" he grinned. "My daughter has a truly unique
imagination -- even when she's asleep."
     Before Natalie could reply, Richard excused himself, giving her a
quick hug and clapping Nick on the back as he turned to leave. Natalie's
gaze followed her brother's progress across the room and out the door. When
she turned back to Nick, there was a speculative gleam in her eyes that
hadn't been there before.
     Nick assumed his best innocent expression as he waited for her to
break the silence. He resisted an urge to fidget as Natalie continued to
stare at him for several long moments.
     At last, propping both elbows on the desk, she laced her fingers
together and slowly leaned forward to rest her chin atop her joined hands.
     "Nick?"
     "Hmmm?"
     "You wouldn't happen to know why my niece would dream something like
that, would you?"
     "How would I know that, Nat?" Nick's reply was conveniently noncommital.
     As he continued to meet her suspicious gaze, his own eyes began to
gleam with a newfound warmth and affection. Oblivious to the stares of
those around him, he reached out and gently tugged one of her hands free,
cradling it in his own for a brief moment.
     He looked at her and smiled.
     "Maybe she just needed something to believe in."

-------

FINIS

Comments eagerly welcomed at cgi271@airmail.net
Cindy Ingram
What's another word for thesaurus? ("Say good Knight, Gracie." - G. Burns)