From v4s@FKFANFIC.COMWed Dec 25 17:30:00 1996 Date: Wed, 25 Dec 1996 17:26:26 -0500 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: V4S: Christmas Knight (11/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #5 Episode Title: "Christmas Knight" "Air" Date: December 23, 1996 Author: Beth A. Washington Part 11 of 14 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1996 Beth A. Washington -------------------------- CHRISTMAS KNIGHT The Caddie was rolling down the street, its shiny body covered in salt and dirt. The tires flung snow to either side, carving a new trail into the fresh snow. Only a dusting had fallen, but it was enough to hide the black pavement. It gave the night an eerie glow as the lights of the city streets reflected off of each tiny flake resting on the ground. Adam sat in the front next to Nick, while Nick drove. Westwood sat in the middle in the back, resting his arms on the front seat, with his chin resting on top. The light from the dashboard highlighted their facial features with a soft green glow, which was disrupted at intervals by the bright pink light of each street lamp they passed. Sakai and Westwood were chatting up the case and Nick listened absently. They talked about the victims and the people they left behind, and what a dismal Christmas they would have. Their words faded in Nick's ears as he heard LaCroix's voice in his head, explaining exactly what he thought of Christmas and what it meant. "There is no God, Nicholas, and if there is no God, then he could not have a son....Ridiculous!" He tried to push the harsh words from his mind, and thought of the sword, and that first Christmas he was being fostered at his uncle's, when his uncle promised it to him. The feeling that promise originally gave him made his heart warm. Then he thought of LaCroix again, bringing him across, destroying the hopes and dreams of his uncle, his parents, and his beloved sisters. There was the face of the first woman he killed, then all of the faces of all of the people who had died by his vampiric hand started crowding in his mind, all demanding to be seen. Again he tried to push aside the evil memories, and tried to remember the good ones that the photos in the album caused him to remember. Schanke on the movie lot as a police consultant. Schanke's reaction to Nick during his short time in the sun. Tracy's ability to save his life, even though she was tied and lying on the floor of a madman's basement, even after Nick had saved her life. Nat's neverending hope of finding him a cure, and the strength that kept her going even after all the things that had happened to her, even after he almost killed her. She wasn't dead, though. What difference did it make anyway? She didn't want anything to do with him. She almost moved away because of him. Now she was pushing him away and letting in some stranger, this blasted Westwood. If she had died, would she have simply become another face in the sea of dead that had been visiting him lately? Or would hers have been the face leading the others, crying out for revenge against all of the injustices he had committed? Doubt filled his already confused mind. Was he really guilty of all the killer had said he was guilty of? Did he not have any control? Did the vampire inside dominate his life in ways he would never be able to change? He tried to tell himself that it wasn't like that, that he did have control. But his memories betrayed him. All of the faces, dead. "Nick, the light's green," came Adam's voice, crashing through the faces and the doubts, bringing Nick back to the road. Westood looked at Nick curiously as the detective looked up and saw the green light, and started the car moving. Nick thought it funny that he didn't remember stopping at the red light. Adam and Thomas continued their conversation. "Yeah, it's another case of mistaken sin," Adam stated. Nick's ears perked up, "What's that?" he queried. "You haven't heard a word we've said, have you?" snorted his partner. "Something was on my mind," Nick offered as a lame excuse. Adam only looked at Nick, then gave Nick a brief summary of what he and Westwood had just talked about. "Nancy Meyers came into the precinct today and talked to one of the officers on the day shift. She said that her husband had been disabled in a work accident, and that was why he didn't work. He had injured his back so severely that he found it difficult to walk." Reaching into his pocket and lifting out a folded piece of paper, Nick added, "Then that would explain this," and handed the paper to his partner. Adam turned on the dome light and examined the paper. "It's an application for collecting on disability insurance. Looks like they never sent it in." "Maybe he's the type of man who is too proud to admit he is disabled. By sending in the application, it would force him to acknowledge it," suggested the psychologist. "His wife did say something about how, after the accident, and after he had come home from the hospital, he always seemed to be angry, especially when she took a job to help pay the bills," remembered Adam. "That makes sense," continued Westwood. "It fits the profile. He probably believes in the traditional home, where the woman stays home and takes care of the housework, while the man goes to work and supports the family financially. Losing his ability to work to such an injury can really destroy a man's pride." "So it seems, " Nick joined the conversation, "that our killer hasn't been doing his homework." "Yeah, it seems that way," Adam agreed. The three sat in silence for a short while, watching the buildings pass by outside, holiday decorations in the windows, pedestrians carrying their last minute shopping. The snow that had begun to fall again. Annoyance worked its way across Adam's brow as a question formed on his lips. "The application. How come you didn't bring that up earlier?" he addressed Nick. Nick shrugged his shoulders. "Must have slipped my mind." Showing a little annoyance, Adam further inquired, "Anything else slip through the cracks?" Nick glanced at Adam, his eyebrows lifted as he smirked. He shook his head and lightly said, "No." His partner and the psychologist exchanged doubtful looks and left it at that. With his eyes carefully on the road, Nick took the car around a corner, slowing so as not to slide around and cause an accident. "Where are we going?" Westwood asked, still leaning on his hands. "I thought we would go back to the alley where I found the killer's coat and see if there is anything else there, maybe in one of the surrounding buildings," answered Nick. "What makes you think we'll find anything new there?" inquired Adam. "The police on the scene covered the area pretty thoroughly." "The killer said he saw me in the alley. He may have been watching from one of the buildings on the alley," Nick explained, taking the caddie around another turn, again slowing down to avoid slipping on the snowy pavement. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COMWed Dec 25 17:30:04 1996 Date: Wed, 25 Dec 1996 17:26:31 -0500 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: V4S: Christmas Knight (12/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #5 Episode Title: "Christmas Knight" "Air" Date: December 23, 1996 Author: Beth A. Washington Part 12 of 14 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1996 Beth A. Washington -------------------------- CHRISTMAS KNIGHT The alley was darker than they had remembered it. The flashing lights of the police cars, the spotlights to illuminate the murder scene, and the headlights of numerous cars were all missing. The only light came from the moon above, bouncing where it could off of the dirty snow. It left the corners and crevices to whatever kind of darkness chose to rest there. Most of the buildings were deserted, and only a couple showed any signs of habitation. There were footprints in the alley of varying shapes and sizes indicating that the alley was a well-used short cut, probably to and from Max's Corner Drugs. A fire burned in a trash barrel, abandoned by whoever had been enjoying its warmth when the three unwelcome visitors entered the alley. "I'll go first," Sakai insisted, pushing in front of his partner. "Dr. Westwood, stay behind Nick," he ordered, intent on making sure Nick was well covered. The psychologist did as he was told, shrugging his shoulders when Nick gave him a dirty look. They walked into the alley that way, starting from where it opened next to the drug store and working their way in, quietly. They walked past the spot where the woman had lain dead on the ground, the white chalk that marked her position almost completely washed away. They were each careful not to step on the spot, and continued on to the turn in the alley. Nick recognized the pile of garbage in the corner. He pointed to it. "That's where I found the coat. The killer's coat," he explained softly, eliminating the fact that the coat had been on someone at the time. He checked for a heartbeat there, and found none. "It always amazes me how anyone can live like that," Sakai said with sadness. "Some people don't have a choice. They have a run of bad luck that takes everything, leaving them with nothing, sometimes not even the shirt on their backs," Nick explained absently, as his eyes scanned the windows above, and his senses tried to find a heartbeat other than the ones belonging to his companions, his personal bodyguards. He chuckled at the thought of young, inexperienced Adam Sakai, and weak kneed Thomas Westwood as his bodyguards. Him, an 800 year old immortal vampire. LaCroix's voice echoed, "Ridiculous!" This time he had to agree. Hearing the detective's chuckle Westwood asked, "What's so funny?" Nick's head turned to Westwood, surprise coloring the still-lingering smile, "Oh, it's nothing. Just something someone said to me today." Westwood nodded, and let it go. Adam turned the corner and stopped for a second to let his eyes adjust to the darker side of the alley. His partner came up beside him, and the psychologist was on the other side of Nick. They were all looking about the alley when a shot rang out, and they all heard the whiz of the bullet as it came toward them, and the thud of it hitting something. Nick took a couple steps backwards from the force of the bullet. He looked down and saw a bullet hole in the front of his shirt. He quickly ruffled his jacket, as if looking to see if he was hit, effectively covering the evidence of actually being shot. Adam quickly shoved his partner and the psychologist behind the nearest dumpster, as he squished in behind them. "Were you hit?" Adam asked, looking up and down at Nick. "Are you OK?" came Westwood's inquiry, also looking Nick over. "The way you stepped back, it looked like something hit you." "No, I'm OK," Nick answered, closing and buttoning his jacket. "It seems that this guy is also a bad shot." Westwood looked doubtfully at Nick. "The guy must be in that abandoned building ahead of us," Nick stated, pointing to a deserted building looming four stories above them in the dark. "Adam, you go around to the other side and enter through the front. Westwood, you go in the back entrance," he pointed to a door almost hidden in the shadows at the base of the brick building. "I'll go up the fire escape and make my way down from the top. Hopefully we can catch him between us." They each pulled their guns out, cocked them, and pointing them skywards, starting to move. Both detectives looked at Westwood, surprised to see a gun in his hand. It wasn't much more than a pea shooter, and the psychologist looked a little embarrassed when his two companions recognized it for what it was. "I hope that lethal firearm of yours is registered," Adam jested. Westwood nodded, his face red. Nick actually cracked a smile. Then turning serious, he said, "Well I hope you know how to use it. If this is our guy, he's got a .38 with him." "If he hasn't ditched the gun by now," added Adam. "One can only hope," said Westwood hopefully. Nick only nodded, knowing full well that the bullet that had just hit him was a from a .38. It wasn't the first time he had been hit by one. They split up and went to work. Adam ran towards a tiny walkway between the buildings and disappeared into the total darkness around the side of the building. Westwood swiftly made his way to the door, checked the handle, then broke the door open with a shoulder push, and disappeared inside. With the other two out of sight, Nick flew to the roof, the vampire's senses turned on to full range. He landed on the roof with a soft thud, scraping the stones on the tar paper under his feet. There was no one to be seen, but the red filter in his vision picked up a heat signature indicating that someone had been there. He followed the heat trail to the door that accessed the roof, where the knob radiated with the warmth of a recent touch, very recent. Nick tried to open the door, but it was barred from the inside. He adjusted his grip on the knob, and pulled with his immortal strength. The door gave as the wooden beam on the other side splintered in half. The heat trail led down the stairs, and the vampire followed, avoiding the broken stairs and fallen pieces of the shattered bar. He reached the landing, where he could turn right and go down a hallway or left into an empty room. He stopped and reached again with his senses and found a heartbeat, strong, rapid as if with excitement or anticipation, and close by. "Come out. I know you're in here. There is no escape," Nick said, loud enough so that his prey could hear him, but without shouting. The heart beat a little faster in his ears. "I know you can hear me," he said into the darkness. The air in the room to the left seemed to shiver with a presence. The moonlight filtered through the glassless windows, illuminating the graffiti on the dirty white walls and pieces of newspaper and trash littered about the floor. There was no one to be seen. "I knew you would find me, Detective," came the voice of the killer, just outside the door on the opposite side of the room. "After all, once a hunter, always a hunter," he said with a little teasing tone in his voice. Nick winced at the comment. A memory of LaCroix teaching him to hunt, to sense his victims, came to mind. Victims. All dead. He shook his head and ignored the vision of the faces returning, and let the cop that he was take over. "Give yourself up. We know you're in here." The detective took a step towards the room. "I will give myself up," explained the killer as he stepped into sight through the doorway, then taking a step into the room he added, "but only after I have completed my mission." He was wearing in a long, dark coat that would have concealed him in the shadows of the doorway from a normal human. Nick could see him clear as day. "Isn't it funny," the killer continued on, "that you, someone who has killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people, work as a homicide detective, chasing after people who have only killed a handful compared to your accomplishments?" The faces trickled in, one by one, dead eyes staring, blood oozing from their necks, their faces screaming with the injustice of an early death. "No!" Nick growled to himself, trying to make the faces go away. "It's not like that!" "You are Avarice," the killer taunted, taking another step into the room, "Your greed for more life than was your due, your desire to have more time than any human is supposed to have. My bullet proved your immortality." He paused, then added with a sincere tone, "You took it well. Do your companions know you are a vampire?" Then shaking his head, he answered his own question. "I suspect not, or they wouldn't have bothered at that feeble attempt to watch your back down there in the alley." He laughed. "Why protect someone who can not die by conventional means?" Nick took a step back and sat down on the steps that led to the roof, placing his gun down on the step next to him. He looked down between his knees, but didn't see the floor there. All he could see was Janette asking if he wanted to live forever, LaCroix bringing him across, and the face of the first woman he killed, her neck white, soft, inviting, waiting for him to end her life before her appointed time. "You are Lechery," the killer continued his speech. "Like all black demons, you seduce women and take their blood. You find that you can't stop yourself. You want more and more and more, neverending. Your sex drive is insatiable. You seduce, you violate, you kill." Again there was a pause. Nick brought his hands to his head as the visions within grew stronger and became overwhelming. Janette, Francesca, and Erica, and all the wonderful passion he had shared with them, exchanging blood, and with it desire, memories, and more. The times had been pleasant then, but now Nick found them all repulsive. The feeble attempts of his inner voice telling him to ignore the man, that nothing he was saying was true, faded. Faded into nothingness as the killer continued his monologue. Back came the faces.... an endless stream of faces, calling from within the depths of darkness, crying for justice. He saw Alyssa, his beautiful wife who loved him and trusted him completely, dead, because he had taken too much. Alyssa's face faded into Sylvaine Rochet's as she danced into Nick's dark thoughts. Her brightness faded to blood red as he killed her, believing LaCroix's lies about her impurity. Next came Marion Blackwing as her face made its way to the front of the crowd. Marion, who understood his pain, his struggle, and tried to take it into herself, the vampire harming her in ways she could never deal with. Then there was Natalie. How many times had her life been put in danger because of what he was, because of the dark creature that lived inside him? Pleased to see the vampire's pain, the killer continued, "You are Pride. You believe you are better than anyone else, that your immortal powers make you superior to all of humanity. You have made humanity your playtoy. You play among us until you are bored with us, then you either move on or kill us for entertainment." "That's not true," Nick said feebly, not really believing his own words anymore. The faces kept saying the words were right, that justice needed to be served, that Nicholas must pay for his sins. "I am not like that...now. Not anymore." His head hung low, Nick did not see the killer step closer and pull an old wooden crossbow from within the folds of his trench coat, with a large wooden bolt cocked and ready to fire. He raised the weapon and aimed, ready to shoot, then lowered it for a second, a thought clearly wanting to be expressed. "I admire how you have resigned yourself to what must be done. None of the others recognized their own sins, and therefore it will be tougher for them when God judges them. May God have mercy on your soul, Nicholas Knight...if that truly is your name." The killer concluded his speech, then raised the crossbow and aimed. Adam Sakai's voice echoed through the doorway in the back of the room from somewhere below, in a stairwell leading up. Thomas Westwood's voice answered it. The killer turned in response and aimed at the empty door. Hearing his partner's voice, then the psychologist's, jarred Nick's mind, giving him what he needed to push the faces away. He recalled Adam talking about mistaken sins, and how the killer hadn't been doing his homework. His partner had complained about how Nancy Meyers would have to spend Christmas alone because a killer had killed her husband for something he hadn't done. Then he heard Westwood's comments about the differences between this case and the Vancouver case. Westwood had said that the Vancouver killer was thorough and made sure his victims were actually guilty of the sins he killed them for. Then he remembered his own angry words when Max told him that Emily Shaff was on medication for a thyroid problem. All were mistakes, unjustly punished. He cleared his head with a shake. This man had also been wrong about him. Yes, he was a vampire, and yes, he had taken the lives of some people before their time. But things were different now. He had changed. He was trying to make amends, and he was going to complete his mission! Suddenly acutely aware of the danger the killer posed to Adam and Westwood, Nick focused on what he needed to do to keep them safe. He zoomed in front of the killer, and wrenched the cross bow out of his hands before he could react. Tiny flecks of gold highlighted Nick's still blue eyes as the vampire within grabbed the man's heartbeat and hung on tight. The man stared at Nick, powerless in front of his would-be victim. "You will not remember that I am a vampire," Nick said, all of his strength and ability going into each word as the man stood hypnotized before him. "You will not remember seeing me in the alley last night, and you will not remember anything you said to me on the phone or here tonight." "Not remember," the helpless man droned. "You will remember that you pinned the three sins on me, but you will not remember why." "Not remember why," the man's response, monotone, his face expressionless. Hearing his partner and Westwood about to enter the room, Nick pulled out his cuffs and cuffed the killer and started informing him of his rights in a normal voice, the vampire gone. Sakai walked in first, with Westwood on his heels. "You got him!" Adam exclaimed. "Great job!" exclaimed Westwood. "How'd you do it?" >From the look on his face, Nick couldn't tell if he were asking how he had captured the killer or how he had gotten to the roof so fast. "I surprised him from behind," answered Nick. "He was carrying this." His foot indicated the large crossbow on the floor. Adam picked it up and examined it, and Westwood reached over and touched the bolt. Curiosity in his expression, the psychologist's eyes went from the bolt, to Nick, back to the bolt a few times. "Is he the one we've been looking for? The one who wanted to kill you?" Adam removed the bolt from the bow. "Uh-huh," answered Nick. "Are you familiar with the Vancouver seven deadly sins murders?" the psychologist asked, looking into the man's somewhat dazed face. The man nodded. "Just what do you think you were doing? Didn't you think you would get caught?" Adam asked with the tone of his voice reflecting his bewilderment over how anyone could be so stupid. "Envy, Idleness, Gluttony, Avarice, Lechery, Pride, Wrath," he droned, still in somewhat of a hypnotic stupor. "I will send one of each to God. My holiday gift to Him." Westwood rolled his eyes, and Adam just looked on, not believing what he was hearing. "Did you find the gun?" Adam asked Nick. "No, just that thing. You?" Nick inquired of Westwood, who shook his head. "We'll have to send a search party over, then, to check the place out," stated Nick. "They'll need it to match up against the bullets that killed the other three victims." Westwood moved towards the door, indicating that he was ready to leave the cold, dark building. "Haven't we had enough fun for one night?" he asked. Both detectives nodded. Nick followed Sakai and Westwood as they moved to leave. Holding the man's cuffs, he pushed his prisoner ahead of him. The cop was in full control again, and he was glad of it. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COMWed Dec 25 17:30:07 1996 Date: Wed, 25 Dec 1996 17:26:39 -0500 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: V4S: Christmas Knight (13/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #5 Episode Title: "Christmas Knight" "Air" Date: December 23, 1996 Author: Beth A. Washington Part 13 of 14 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1996 Beth A. Washington -------------------------- CHRISTMAS KNIGHT It was Christmas Eve, and the precinct was just about deserted. Most everyone was off to some party or to do some last minute shopping. Only the absolutely necessary personnel were still there, and little work was getting done. Nick, Adam and Westwood were working on some final paperwork on the case, when the captain ambled out of his office, looking as if he was pleased with something. He made his way over to them, and they all looked up and greeted him. "Congratulations! Nice work!" Reese offered. "You brought the culprit in before he killed anyone else and before you lost your head," he said, indicating Nick with a glance in his direction. "Thanks, Cap, but Nick was the one who actually collared the guy," Adam admitted. "Yeah. He already had the guy cuffed and was informing him of his rights when we walked in," Westwood added. Nick shrugged off the praise. "Natalie left a report here on my desk saying that the coat I gave her had blood on it that matched the blood of all three victims. She also found this in the inside pocket." Nick handed Reese a photocopy of a small piece of lined white paper. "It's got all of the names of the victims, including those he intended to kill before he decided on me." "As it turns out, he did know about the other case. He was working as a clerk in the Vancouver police station, in charge of cataloging all the evidence brought in from various cases. He was fired after some vital evidence from another case turned up missing," Westwood explained. "Anyway, he had direct access to everything concerning the seven deadly sins case. He liked the ideas; he just wasn't as thorough. He liked shortcuts." "And since he had police clearance, he was able to easily find addresses, phone numbers, etcetera, for all of his victims," Nick hypothesized. "But if he had been fired," Adam added, "Then his clearance should have been taken away." Westwood considered the detectives observation. "True. He was fired just recently. Even though it is supposed to be a high priority, it can take a couple weeks to revoke someone's clearance and get them out of the computer completely. He also may have known of a back door way to get into the system." "You would think that they could weed out those types of people before they ever hire them to work in a police station," complained Adam. "You never know what kinds of sick things someone is capable of." Inside, Nick flinched. Reese nodded in agreement. "As long as those people aren't working here, or at least not on my watch, I'm happy." But strangely, he didn't look happy. "Well I called the hospital shortly after he was checked in. The doctors tell me he's settling in and that he'll start therapy tomorrow. He'll be getting the help he needs now, even though he will probably spend the rest of his life in a hospital for the criminally insane," Westwood speculated. Reese shifted slightly as if he was uncomfortable standing there, then he took a deep breath. "That's the other thing I came to tell you guys. The man's dead. He committed suicide shortly after they locked him up. He won't be standing trial," Reese explained. "But how?" inquired Adam. "Didn't they take away everything that he could potentially harm himself with before they locked him up?" "They should have," Westwood stated. "They did..." the captain began, "At least they thought they did. He had a cyanide pill. It must have been on his person, when you guys nabbed him, in the event that he was caught." "Incredible," Adam breathed. "Believable," the psychologist corrected. "The pill must have been from the missing evidence that got him fired. The evidence belonged to a case where a doctor was poisoning terminally ill patients. He claimed that they wanted to die, to end their suffering, and that he was only helping them." "No," Adam amended. "I mean its incredible that the man would have planned his own death so far in advance." Westwood nodded his understanding. "Oh. Well that's believable too. The man had a mission, and he was determined to carry it through as far as he possibly could. That much is definitely identical to the Vancouver case." "An intern at the hospital found this in the pocket of his coat," Reese handed Westwood a note, then passed it to Adam, then Nick, who read it out loud. "Wrath I am Wrath. I am the anger and rage that strikes out violently against the unjust and unworthy. I resent all humanity that does not heed the word of God, living in a world full of the seven deadly sins. I am sorrow, that I must commit this sin to cleanse the world for God. I am regret, for I will never be able to forgive myself for what I have done. God, please forgive me. Have mercy on my soul. This is the fourth of what should have been seven who should have died. My gift is incomplete. It is without Avarice, Lechery, and Pride. Praise be to God." The room was silent for a minute or two. Another death was another death, regardless of whether or not the man was a killer, or that he committed suicide. The news hung heavy on Nick's mind. Another death to ride his conscience into eternity. Another face to add to all the other faces. Adam shrugged it off and started shuffling papers, and Westwood looked helpless. It was Reese who broke the silence, "Well you all still did a good job. He's no longer on the streets and three lives were saved, four if you count Nick." He placed his hand on the detective's shoulder. "Not to mention, the media circus outside has moved on to more fertile grounds." "But he's dead," Nick said sadly, looking down at the note still in his hands. "He was dead already, Nick," Westwood explained, trying to make the detective understand. "He was dead before we ever got to him. That's how he had planned it from the beginning. There's nothing any of us could have done." "And what do you know?" Nick snapped. "You're a Forensic Psychologist! Have you ever actually done therapy?" Westwood stood taken aback by Nick's sharp words. He took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I have. I did therapy for a few years before I got into Forensics." Hearing the psychologist's words, Nick filed the note inside the manila folder on his desk that contained the other notes. He turned to Westwood. "It still doesn't make me feel any better about the whole thing." Adam listened to the exchange between his partner and Westwood. He looked at Nick, and a sparkle of admiration twinkled in his eyes. It was the captain again who tried to change the subject. "It's Christmas Eve folks, and you should all be home with your families, so get out of here," he ordered with a gruff smile. Then turning his attention to Nick, he added, "And you should be home packing for that vacation of yours." That brought a smile, though thin and weak, but a smile all the same to Nick's face. "Thanks, Cap," grinned Adam, "I'll leave after I plow through the paperwork and wrap up this case." Reese nodded his approval. "No, Adam, go ahead," Nick offered, "I'll take care of the paperwork. You go home to Kelly and have a nice holiday." "You mean it?" Nick's young partner asked. Then glancing at the mess of paper on both of their desks he observed, "There's an awful lot of work sitting here." "That's OK. My plane doesn't take off until tomorrow night. I have plenty of time." Nick smiled. "I can stay for about half an hour and help," Westwood offered. "No, thanks, but I'll be all right. Go home. Get some rest," was Nick's somewhat insistent answer. "OK," Westwood said with reluctance. "Well, you have a nice holiday, Nick." "Yeah, Merry Christmas, Nick!" exclaimed Adam, who was putting on his coat and grabbing his keys. "Same to you all," Nick said, nodding to each, then turned his attention to the paperwork in front of him. "Well, I don't want to see any of you tomorrow," Reese ordered, and when everyone looked at him incredulously, he added, "Oh don't worry, if I need you, I'll find you. Just pray the crazies stay at home and drink some bad eggnog this year!" Reese smiled and turned and headed for his office to grab his coat and briefcase. Minutes later, Adam, Westwood, and Reese were all gone, and Nick was all alone in the bullpen, with only a little noise traveling down the hall from the room where they fielded incoming calls. The phones had been quiet, and the couple of people left to man them were chatting cheerfully over eggnog and holiday treats. Nick decided to organize the mess on his desk before he started to fill out the case report. Reaching all the way to the lonely poinsettia still sitting on the corner of his desk, he grabbed a pile of paper. When he pulled the paper away a small gift was revealed. The box was small, about the size of a compact disk, only deeper. It was wrapped in gold foil paper with a green ribbon and bow. Like the two that he found in his loft, this one also lacked a tag. He hesitated before touching it, then smiled and picked it up and gave it a little shake, which revealed nothing. He removed the ribbon and the outer wrapping without ripping the paper, and recognized the container as a white jeweler's box. He lifted the top of the box, and inside was a black hinged box, which he removed from the outer container. He opened the black lid, and inside, in a carefully shaped insert, was a gold pocket watch with a raised carving of the sun and the moon on the cover. His fingers traced the circular edge of the watch as he popped it from its enclosure, the gold chain following it out of the box, into Nick's hand. He opened the watch and his brows furrowed at what he saw. The round, perfectly white face, with Old English style Roman numerals all around, had no hands. He looked inside the cover of the watch, and found a small clear compartment which contained two tiny, gold watch hands. Below the compartment was an inscription. Happy Father's Day, Colin "That's a beautiful watch you have there," came Natalie's voice behind him. He jumped. He hadn't heard her come in. Turning to look at her, he saw her face, her beautiful face, smiling back at him. He returned the smile, hesitant, then strong. "It was a gift," he quickly explained, placing it back in its box and closing the lid. Natalie looked a little disappointed that he did not share it with her, but let it be. "Working late?" Nat asked, making conversation. "Yeah. Lots of paperwork," Nick answered, feeling a little tense. "I had heard you found the killer. Congratulations," she offered sincerely. "Thanks," was all the detective said. There was a short, uncomfortable silence. Nick noticed Natalie was all dressed up in a lovely blue dress, conservatively cut, yet shapely and adorned with some well selected jewelry. "You look nice," Nick found himself saying. Nat responded with a friendly smile, "You think so?" She twirled around once so Nick could see the whole package. "Yes, I do," he responded, adding in his head, She was a little taken aback by Nick's fervor and it made her blush. Turning her face away from Nick, her expression became more serious. She was still smiling, though, as her eyes followed her own hands as she started to bring out a small wrapped package. "I just stopped by to..." she hesitated and hid the package again behind her back. "I was a little rough on you the other night, and I...um...just wanted to apologize." Nat seemed to find her toe extremely interesting. Nick looked a little startled. "You were right, though. It was neither the time or the place," he offered. "Maybe..." she agreed, "But I didn't need to chop your head off." "That's OK. I was pushing you a little too hard." "No. It's not OK!" She looked at Nick with anger rising, "Damn it Nick! Can't you let anyone else be wrong except for yourself?" Nick looked away, hurt. Softening her voice, "I'm sorry. I just wanted..." she stopped. "Nick, I'm sorry it has to be like this. I just need time to work it all out." Nick nodded. "I know. I'll give you all the time you need." Natalie had expected him to argue with her, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn't. He didn't even try to change her mind or approach her. "I'm glad you understand, Nick. I really am. I mean it." She then fumbled with the item behind her back and added, "I also wanted to give you this," she said, holding the package out for Nick. "Just to let you know there's no hard feelings." It almost sounded like a question. Nick looked up questioningly, saw the package, then reached his hand out hesitantly to take it. It was neatly wrapped in holly Christmas paper with a small white bow at one end. His fingers brushed hers as he took it from her. He let them linger there for a moment, wishing for more. Nat pulled her hand away without jerking it. A little longing showed in her eyes. She missed him, but she couldn't give him any more right now. This would have to do for now. Nick pulled the package to him, then he took a moment as if thinking of something. His eyes closed as he said, as if reading from a book in his mind, "Your name is a very special and beautiful name. Did you know that the name Natalie means 'Christmas', or 'someone born on Christmas'?" "Yes, Nick, I know that. And your name means 'victory of the people'," replied Natalie, looking thoughtfully at Nick. When he opened his eyes and looked at her in astonishment she added, "I looked it up once in a baby name book." Nick smiled. "Open it!" Nat said, indicating the present she had given him. He started to carefully unwrap it, when she said impatiently, "You're supposed to rip the paper. That's half the fun of opening presents at Christmas." He looked to her while she spoke, smiled, then shredded the paper on the present and ripped open the small box in seconds flat. Natalie looked impressed. Inside was a gold Cross pen, with an inscription that read: Nicholas de Brabant He looked at her questioningly, and she answered his unspoken inquiry. "Throughout your timeless life, you have had many names, but Nicholas de Brabant is your real name, a very noble name, and someday you may be able to claim it again as your own." His love for her welled in his eyes, along with the tears that he held back. "It's beautiful," was all he could say. "Thank you." He suddenly realized that he did not have anything for Natalie. He felt a little embarrassed. He had thought she wouldn't have accepted a present from him, considering the status of their relationship. She simply smiled, then said after another moment of awkward silence, "I really must be going..." Nick interrupted her, "Can I invite you over to my place tonight? I will make you a wonderful meal I learned how to cook from a French chef back in the..." She stopped him, with a hand on his arm. "Nick, I'm sorry. It sounds lovely, but..." "But you have plans," he finished for her. "Yes," she replied. "With Dr. Westwood," he continued. "Yes. Thomas invited me to dinner tonight," she explained briefly. Hurt twitched at the edges of Nick's expression, but he fought it back. He was determined not to let her see his pain, or jealousy. He was the reason things were the way they were, and if there was ever any hope of repairing their relationship, he couldn't let her see his pain or petty jealousy. Besides, she had come to him tonight, with more than business. "That was nice of him. I hope you have a good time," he replied sincerely, if a bit stiffly. "Thank you, Nick," she said with surprise in her voice and she was about to add Merry Christmas, but thought of how silly that would sound saying that to him. Instead she said, "Well I gotta run. I hope you have a good vacation. Enjoy your time off." She turned to leave. "You have a good holiday," he said, looking down so as not to see her leave, and focusing his eyes on the pile of paper on the desk. Natalie hesitated a moment. It felt a little odd not having Nick trying to pressure her into something she wasn't ready for. Maybe he had come to terms with their situation. Maybe he did understand what she was feeling and what she needed right now. She was about to say something when she saw him pick up an ordinary pen and start writing. She decided not to start something new, and turned and left the precinct. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COMWed Dec 25 17:30:11 1996 Date: Wed, 25 Dec 1996 17:26:47 -0500 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: V4S: Christmas Knight (14/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #5 Episode Title: "Christmas Knight" "Air" Date: December 23, 1996 Author: Beth A. Washington Part 14 of 14 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1996 Beth A. Washington -------------------------- CHRISTMAS KNIGHT It was still dark out, though Nick could tell that dawn was only a couple of hours away. Back in his loft, he sat on his bed, his suitcase open and half packed, clothes here and there across the surface of the bed. A goblet half full with a white liquid rested on the table next to the bed, forgotten, as Nick gave his full attention to the gold pocket watch. He ran his fingers over the smooth bumps caused by the carving on the cover, the sun and moon. He opened the watch and examined the handless face, the elegant Roman numerals, the name of a fine English watch company in tiny letters below the center, the small ornate hands resting in their separate compartment, and the inscription. What did they all mean? The sword that reminded him of the days before he was a vampire, before he was a man. The photo album with its pictures of friends, mortal and immortal, representing his life as a vampire. And then the watch. There was a disturbance in the air, and Nick didn't have to look up to tell that it was LaCroix. He looked up anyway, acknowledging him with his eyes. "Good evening, Nicholas," greeted his master. "Packing I see," he observed, glancing at the suitcase and the various piles of neatly folded clothes. "Still going home for a visit, are we?" his tone slightly acidic. Nick looked away, disgusted by how well LaCroix knew him. "How long are you planning on staying?" the father asked, then answering his own question, he said, "Not long, I suspect. You won't find anyone waiting to greet you with open arms. The hearth fires have grown cold and the homestead is nothing more than a pile of broken stone and mortar of a long forgotten era whose only claim to existence is in some history book..." Then looking at his son he added, "and an 800 year old vampire." "My uncle's castle still stands. They've converted it to an inn. A bed and breakfast. I thought I would spend some time there." A distant look appeared in Nick's eyes as his inner eye remembered the castle the way it was during his time there as a squire. LaCroix's expression lit up as his eyebrows reached their highest point on his forehead. "A bed and breakfast, you say. Have you informed them of your special dietary needs, for breakfast?" LaCroix smirked. Nick said nothing. Reminded of the goblet, he reached for it, then thought again and left it where it rested. LaCroix laughed. "Why, Nicholas, do you torture yourself so?" He noticed the watch in the younger vampire's hand. "It looks exquisite." When Nick looked up questioningly, he added, "The watch. May I see it?" "It was a gift," Nick said, offering the watch to LaCroix. "I thought maybe you might know where it came from, and who Colin is." LaCroix looked at him. "It's the name inscribed inside," he explained. LaCroix shook his head slightly as he looked over the watch. "No, I do not know the answer to either question." Nick looked doubtful, then shrugged it off. Like the sword, what would be his master's motivation to give his son a Christmas gift? LaCroix opened the watch and a look of puzzlement caused his brow to furrow as he noticed the hands missing from the face. "It seems this watch does not keep accurate time. Or for that matter, any time at all." He thought for a moment and smiled. "Not twice a day." "I believe it means something," Nick stated. "And what, may I ask, could it mean?" LaCroix asked, sarcasm, laced with genuine curiosity, edging his words. "I believe the handless face represents my timeless, immortal life. My life as a vampire." LaCroix nodded in agreement. It made sense. Nick continued, "Perhaps the hands of the watch are included to remind me that my life needs work to get back on mortal time..." He grinned apologetically. As an after thought, he added, "I'm not sure what the inscription means." LaCroix was visibly upset by Nick's explanation. He told his son what he thought, his tone of voice raised slightly, seething with anger. "Nicholas!" LaCroix growled. "Someone probably picked it up at a pawn shop and accidentally left it on your desk. It has no meaning! It's a broken watch! If it means anything even remotely related to you, it means that your life is beyond repair. Your soul is lost forever." He paused with a heavy sigh. "When will you give up this foolishness, this pathetic dream of yours? You are a vampire, and a vampire you will stay. You aspire to become a puny mortal, only so you can see the sun and die a crippled old man. What pleasure is there in that!" LaCroix's eyes burned red as he turned towards one of the windows. "I don't expect you to understand. The holiday season has reminded me that I was Catholic once, and that Christmas was a holiday I enjoyed with my family in Brabant, and with my uncle's family in France. A part of me still misses that time," Nick simply stated, not caring if he angered LaCroix further. "Christmas is a holiday for fools, Nicholas, filled with abhorrent symbols that burn us. We are vampires, and vampires and Christmas do not mix," LaCroix growled. "Go on your senseless vacation, torture yourself with the past, if you must, but who you are now is here, and it is here to which you will return." With his final word, LaCroix disappeared back out the way he came in, leaving Nick to his thoughts. >>----------> He was back in France, sixteen years old, sitting astride a sturdy black horse. His dirty blond hair glistened in the sunshine as he sat and adjusted his dark cape over the rump of the horse. He wore a tunic that was made of black velvet, and the white shirt he wore underneath peeked out above the neck line, and around his wrists, just showing a little beyond the edge of the tight tunic sleeve. His eyes were bright not only from the light of a perfect day, but with the anticipation of the ride ahead. His uncle sat astride a large gray, his beard a little grayer and his frame a little heavier. "You will make new friends as you journey through this life, Nicholas, and some you will be able to trust, and others you won't," his uncle lectured in a kindly tone of voice. "How will I know the difference?" the young man asked. "Experience. But when you have found a friend you can trust, trust with your very life, hang on tight and don't let go. Friends you can trust are the best thing a man can ever have. Value them more then you value yourself, but also never doubt yourself. It could save your life someday." A young boy came up and handed each a satchel and a wine skin, checked the buckles and straps of each man's horse, then stepped back and waited for further instructions. Nicholas' uncle waved him away with a smile. Sensing it was time to leave, Nicholas spurred his horse, and the animal started to move forward. "Nephew, aren't you forgetting something?" his uncle inquired. Nicholas pulled back on the reins and looked to his uncle. He checked his clothing, his saddlebags, the ground around him, then looked at his uncle, smiled, and slipped from the back of his mount. He strode into the small castle which was behind his uncle, then moments later returned with his uncle's sword. He lifted the sword for his uncle to take, and the older man pushed it back towards Nicholas. "You remember my promise to you that first Christmas you spent with us?" he asked. Nicholas nodded that he did, excitement creeping into his expression. "Well it is time for the sword to change hands," his uncle announced. "You mean..." his nephew asked. "Yes. The sword is yours," his uncle finished. Nicholas was overcome with happiness. He stood there for a moment, silent in the bright sunshine, holding his first, very own, Crusader sword. He was going to make a difference in this world. <----------<< The sky outside was beginning to lighten when Nick returned from his memories, smiling. He looked at the watch again and said softly to himself, "I can dream, LaCroix. I can still dream." -------------------------------------------- A note from Beth: I would like to take a moment to thank all of the people who helped me out on this project. I would like to thank the alpha readers for their very constructive comments, especially Mel Moser who was always there with helpful suggestions and virtual hugs of support. I would like to thank Sara Orel for all of her help with the flashbacks, keeping me accurate and clear. Many thanks to the beta readers who plowed through all of my many punctuation and grammar problems. A special thanks to TJ, for gently keeping me on track, his many helpful comments, his words of encouragement, and for putting up with my crankiness at 1:00 AM in the morning! And lastly, to my husband, who allowed me to hog the computer for hours on end, who kept the kids out of my hair so I could work, and for understanding and supporting me in this effort! Without all of these people, this story never would have been finished. Thanks! Have a happy and safe holiday season, everyone! -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com.