Date: Sun, 27 Apr 1997 01:50:17 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: If It Be Now (06/10) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #11 Episode Title: "If It Be Now" "Air" Date: April 24, 1997 Author: Libby Singleton from a story idea by Sara Orel Part 6 of 10 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 1997 Elizabeth Ann (Libby) Singleton and Sara Orel -------------------------- IF IT BE NOW "Don't you have anything with more trunk space? A Lincoln TownCar maybe?" Nick asked, staring in disbelief at the little Neon. He liked how it looked, but didn't want to think of the nightmares he'd have squeezed into the little trunk. The same went for the Loyales, GrandAms, and Tauruses the lot held. In fact, none of the lots he'd visited seemed to have any larger cars available. "More trunk space? Not really." The rental employee scratched his head. "You planning a trip? We normally just rent for local driving. We're not a chain or anything." "I carry a lot of stuff; let's just leave it at that, okay, Ted?" Nick said. "Hmmmm," Ted pondered. "There's the owner's 1969 Ford LTD. We've rented it out before, so I suppose it wouldn't matter. A real classic, but quite a tank. Sure you want something that big?" Nick nodded, grinning broadly. "Sounds great." "Okay," Ted shrugged. "Whatever melts your ice cream." The man led Nick to a lot in the back of the business building. There were a number of clunkers, wrecked cars, and stripped shells. Amongst the junk sat the LTD. It was huge and white, and Nick liked it. "Does it run?" he asked hopefully. "Of course," Ted said, going through numerous keys on his belt ring. After finding the right one, he unlocked the door and sat in the driver's seat. "It hasn't been started in about a month," he warned. The vehicle started on the second try. Getting out, Ted gestured for Nick to take the driver's seat. Well maintained, the car was very clean and idled smoothly. Reaching over, he turned on the radio, tuning until he reached CERK. LaCroix's voice came through crystal clear. <<...A double blessing is a double grace, Occasion smiles upon a second leave.... Does occasion ever smile upon you, my friends? Or are you offered nothing more than an insidious sneer?>> "I'll take it," Nick said quickly. <<...The wind sits on the shoulder of your sail. Ponder a moment on what would happen if the wind suddenly stopped, gentle listeners; an happenstance the Nightcrawler would hardly consider a blessing. Where would you be stranded?>> Ted reached in and turned off the ignition, taking the key. "Wait here while I get the paperwork. I'll have to see how much the rental is on this baby." "Sure. Would you mind opening the trunk first?" "You've got one hell of a trunk fetish, you know," Ted said, looking at Nick cautiously. "Guess it's none of my business, though, as long as the car's returned clean." He unlocked the trunk, then walked toward the building. Nick watched, noticing the man glancing back at him over his shoulder. When Ted was out of sight, Nick peered into the trunk. It was large, lined with carpet, and very tidy. Still, it seemed smaller than the Caddy's. Nick sighed, there was only one way to find out if it would work. After making sure the employee wasn't returning, Nick crawled in. He felt terribly cramped. When he tried to shift to a more comfortable position, something jabbed him in the back. Twisting, he found the jack and tucked it behind the spare tire. Finally, he felt situated. "Not too bad," he muttered to himself. Hopefully he wouldn't need the refuge, but it would be comfortable enough with a blanket and pillow, if a bit tight. Still, the space didn't offer the familiarity of his Cadillac. He wondered whether the comfort he remembered wasn't a bit sentimental. -----@@@@----- Nicholas sat on the floor amongst a hundred years of memories. In his hand he held a scrap of material, old and faded now, any softness long gone. Yet the scrap mesmerized him to the point that he couldn't put it down. "Remembering pleasant times, Nicholas?" "Yes," he admitted, looking up into the face of his master. "This was part of my mother's dress. One of her favorites. It looked very beautiful on her." "Your mother was rather lovely, in a maternal sort of way," LaCroix replied dryly. "Now push aside your mortal memories, *my* child, and pack your bag. The trip will not be delayed due to your lollygagging." "I'm looking forward to the journey now," Nicholas said eagerly. "I'm merely having trouble fitting everything into my chests." "As we will be traveling to the sea under our own power, I am allowing you one bag," LaCroix stated. Nicholas climbed to his feet. "My bag is small; there's barely room for my clothing." "Your point being?" LaCroix raised his eyebrows. Nicholas gestured around him. The chest itself had been made by his nephew, Andre. There were tokens of his victories as a Crusader: the bit from his first horse; the rack from a stag slain by his father; even the bench on the corner held sentimental value, having come from Fleur's home. "Surely you jest, Nicholas! Admittedly, it isn't pleasant to give up one's possessions, but we must travel light," LaCroix reminded him. "These items will be hidden with mine and retrieved at some future point in time." "That could be decades or centuries, LaCroix!" Nicholas objected. "They could disappear, or be stolen." "Next you will insist on taking your bed as you often share it with Janette!" LaCroix exclaimed. "These are not just things, they are my memories," Nicholas argued. "How can you ask me to leave them behind?!" "Because these are *not* your memories, but rather worthless clutter of no value whatsoever!" LaCroix exclaimed. "Can you still feed from this?" he asked, picking up a wooden bowl Nicholas had possessed since childhood. "Will any of these items protect you when the sun is high? These...things are not even worth selling at market when funds are low! You cannot take everything. A few small items, especially things of value, that ludicrous scrap of material if you insist, but only what will fit into your bag! Anything else will only slow us down." "How will I choose?" Nicholas asked harshly. "By letting go of your mortal life!" LaCroix replied, matter-of-factly. "Something I should have forced you to do decades ago." -----@@@@----- Stepping out of the trunk, Nick happened to glance upwards at a light pole. A security camera looked back, the "filming" light activated. Nick hesitated, then waved at it. "Don't knock it 'til you try it!" he called out. **** "What other proof do you need?!" George shouted across Reese's desk. "You've got a body now. My uncle was murdered." "We need positive identification," Reese said with as much calm as he could muster. "Who else could it be?" Reaching into a desk drawer, Reese retrieved a couple of aspirin, chewing them without water. "Even you admitted the body was burned beyond recognition. Forensics is comparing dental records, running tests. Sadly, this body isn't the only John Doe we've got." "This isn't concerning some bum off the street! We're talking about Virgil Smither." George picked up an ink pen which he immediately began tapping on the desktop. "Which is why my best officers are on the case at Commissioner Prange's insistence," Reese stated, grabbing the pen from George's hand. Not only was the man irritating, but Reese was beginning to dislike the guy's appearance. Especially that damn black sweater, he thought, wondering if George ever washed it. Something about the guy reminded him of funeral homes and death. "Then why the hell hasn't Mavis been found?" George ranted. "Any idiot can tell the man left Toronto, probably the country." He leaned across the desk, knocking over the tri-fold picture frame containing photographs of the captain's family. Reese glanced down at the frame, then scowled back up at George. The stench of cigarettes and stale coffee on the man's breath was making his odor almost overwhelming. "This department is working under the assumption Mavis is a *suspect* in your uncle's *disappearance*, Mr. Smither, but there's no absolute proof he's guilty," Reese said. "Without a connection, I won't be able to hold...." "Proof?" George snarled. "The proof is in Uncle Virgil's financial records!" Slamming a briefcase onto the desk, the man popped it open to reveal a number of ledgers and banking record copies. "Tens of thousands of dollars missing over the past few years! The bank statements are not matching his personal records; discrepancies start only *six months* after Mavis began working for my uncle." "My detectives discovered that information several days ago, Mr. Smither," Reese pointed out. "We're merely waiting for the computer records to be restored for a more thorough investigation...." "Computer records," George snorted. "You'd be surprised what people keep locked up on hard drives," Reese replied. "We're even attempting to get your uncle's e-mail records to see if there's any leads there." "What do you mean 'attempting?' Just call the damn Internet provider! Even I know that much." "It is *not* that easy!" Reese said sharply, standing so swiftly his chair scooted backwards to slam against the wall. "The provider is claiming customer rights and privacy, so we may have to go through the courts. This isn't a cop show, Mr. Smither; investigation is not instantaneous. It takes time, and sometimes a lot of it." "You know, I'd hate to bring the Police Commission further into this," George threatened. "I stand by the skills of my officers and would be more than happy to discuss this case with *any* commissioner." Reese stepped around his desk, forcing George to move backwards. "You know, I don't really give a damn what you do, but this precinct is going to get to the bottom of your uncle's disappearance." "That's...good," George said hesitantly, swallowing. Taking the briefcase from his desk, Reese thrust it at the other man. "Get this out of here. I've got enough clutter in this office as it is." "I'll be checking back with you," George warned, backing away a few more steps. "Be my guest," Reese said, turning to straighten the misplaced items on his desk. He heard the office door slam. "Good riddance," he muttered. Back in his chair, he reached in his desk for the aspirin. Remembering where the bitter taste in his mouth originated, he shut the drawer without removing the bottle. Instead, the took a swig from a bottle of warm diet soda. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Sun, 27 Apr 1997 01:50:25 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: If It Be Now (07/10) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #11 Episode Title: "If It Be Now" "Air" Date: April 24, 1997 Author: Libby Singleton from a story idea by Sara Orel Part 7 of 10 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 1997 Elizabeth Ann (Libby) Singleton and Sara Orel -------------------------- IF IT BE NOW "Some great team of homicide detectives we are, huh, Nick?" Adam teased. "Always the first to arrive at the scene." Nick responded with a glowering sneer at his partner. He'd made the mistake of offering to drive when the call came in announcing a truck belonging to Virgil had been found at the airport. "This isn't exactly my fault," he said, scooting even further against the taxi's door, tugging on the uncomfortable seatbelt. "Cars break down." "You could've rented any car in town, I bet," Adam said, grinning. "*Any* one of them. But, no, you go for the car with the biggest trunk space. So what happens? Detectives Knight and Sakai travel to the airport, where evidence in the big case has been found, in a cab! What class. What style. What..." "How was I supposed to know the transmission was bad? It ran fine on the lot," Nick grumbled. "Not just the transmission, but the alternator, the starter, the engine block, the radiator...." "Oh, just shut up, okay?" Nick said, though he couldn't totally keep his sheepish smile at bay. "So I should've insisted on test-driving it first. At least it got us part way here." "You know, I oughta call the Nightcrawler, see what he can do on the topic of victims of stolen cars," Adam commented, crossing his arms smugly. "Revenge for your continuing snit over the Caddy." "How would you like it if *your* car was stolen, huh?" Nick asked. "They can take it for all I care. It's the only way *I'm* getting a new one, partner." Adam turned his head to peer out the window. "Excuse me, driver, pull in over by that police car," Adam said suddenly, pointing toward an airport parking lot. "What police car?" "That one on the other side of the lot, way over there," Adam commented, pointing. "That's long-term parking!" the driver objected. "I'll have to pay a small fortune to get out." "We'll pay--" "Drop us off at the gate," Nick interrupted mischievously. "We can walk." Now it was Adam's turn to scowl as Nick smiled innocently back. Although Adam was riding behind the driver, he stepped away from the car, making it obvious to Nick he was supposed to pay. After taking a receipt for reimbursement from the office, Nick caught up with his partner. "Revenge *is* fun," Nick commented. "Besides, we need the exercise." "Yeah, right," Adam said. "I'd offer to race you, but with my youth and vitality, it wouldn't exactly be fair." "At my age, it's amazing I *can* walk," Nick replied. The stroll to the truck help Nick fight back some of his aggravation. Although Adam shivered slightly in the cold wind, Nick enjoyed the feel of it. He pulled his collar up around his ears and put his hands in his coat pockets. The protection from the weather wasn't needed, but sooner or later humans would question his invulnerable nature if he didn't follow their example. Glancing upward, he noticed the sky was clear. Too bad the airport's lights blocked most of the stars. -----@@@@----- "You've yet to finish packing," LaCroix accused as he entered Nicholas' room. Nicholas, seated on the windowsill, saw that his master carried his own bag across his shoulder. "I can't decide," he admitted quietly, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. The heavy breeze through the open window felt good. "Maybe you should choose for me." After all, he added silently, sooner or later you'll fly into a rage and do so anyway. "This is not the last time you will be forced to leave belongings behind, Nicholas," LaCroix said evenly. "You might as well learn now to make the decision yourself." "You just don't understand, do you?" Nicholas snapped, rushing toward his master. "These are not just objects which trigger a pleasant memory, but a part of the people they represent. The only thing which matters to you is yourself." Slowly, LaCroix lowered his bag to the floor and undid the ties. Without looking at his son, he removed a book and began rubbing his hand along the very worn binder. "This book, Nicholas, do you not remember it?" Nicholas couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch it. "Fleur's book on the heavens." "Yes, an excellent volume," LaCroix said, almost whispering. "Ahead of its time in many ways. Andre gave it to me, if you recall. He said if I truly was a friend of his mother, than I should have a token from her estate. Something to remember her by, as it were." "I...I recall," Nicholas admitted. "He never knew the significance of the choice." LaCroix looked at him, his expression unreadable. Without further words, he walked to the fire, opening the book. At first, Nicholas thought it odd that his master needed the light to read. He tried to sense his creator's mood, his thoughts, but with no success. The bond was as controlled as the older vampire's expression. Then, without warning, LaCroix tossed the book into the flames. "No!" Nicholas cried, thrusting his right hand into the flames. Though he managed to grasp the book, searing pain forced him to drop it. LaCroix yanked him away from the fireplace, holding him up by the upper arm. The smell of his own flesh assailed Nicholas' senses. Through pain- dimmed vision, he could see the charred skin and muscles. "How could you!" Nicholas cried despite his agony. "That book was *all* you have of Fleur!" "You may rest until the pain lessens," LaCroix snarled. He dragged Nicholas to the windowsill, where he tossed him down. "However, I expect you to be ready for our departure upon my return." Nicholas huddled in the moonlight after LaCroix left. At first he feared the memories of his long-dead family would flood over him. Yet something called to him in the wind, or perhaps the sensation was simply his master's influence. In any case, the need, the urge to get his journey underway forced him back to his bag. He packed his clothing quickly, along with a few small keepsakes such as the piece of his mother's dress. When he went to stoke the fire, ashes of the book flew up the chimney. In a moment of fancy, he imagined the still glowing ashes joining the stars. -----@@@@----- A small, red-haired, uniformed officer Nick recognized as Amelia Dickens interrupted his memories as the two detectives approached the truck. "Our check on the vehicle's ownership was positive," she said. "Belongs to a Virgil Smither." Adam took an envelope from the woman and began thumbing through its contents. "Nick," he said. "We'll need to have the signature analyzed, but it looks to me like...." The ringing of Nick's cell phone interrupted Adam. Nick shrugged apologetically at his partner's annoyed expression. "As I was saying," Adam continued quickly, "looks like Virgil signed over ownership of the truck to Mavis.... Would you *please* answer that?" "Sure." Nick pulled the phone from his pocket. "Knight." A male, obviously drunk from his slurred speech, began obscenely propositioning Nick. "Excuse me," Nick interjected roughly. "I really think you've dialed the wrong number....Yes, my '62 Caddy was stolen....Yes, I *do* know they have the most trunk space, but that's *not* what I used it for!!!" he growled, turning his face away from the mortals as he disengaged the phone. Nick had his eyes closed tightly, fighting the vampire, when Adam stepped in front of him. "Look at this...!" "Don't *ever* do that," Nick snapped. "Do what?" Adam asked. "Step in front of me like that," Nick replied. "It... ah...startles me," he added quickly in what he hoped was a calmer tone. "What's with you, Mr. Sensitive? All I wanted to do was show you this receipt for a plane ticket, geez," Adam said, his forehead wrinkled in irritation. "No wonder *I* couldn't find a plane ticket for him. This receipt says 'Jeeves Mathis.' Somebody scribbled it out, handwrote 'Jay Mavis' and initialed it. Wanna bet it was an airline employee or travel agent? Or do you care that he's apparently visiting Nova Scotia and is due back tomorrow?" "I care," Nick said apologetically as his phone began to ring again. "Looks like we'll be meeting him tomorrow at 12:25 a.m.," Adam snapped. "But I'm driving. We want to be on time to meet the plane, *partner*." **** "Hey, Natalie," Adam said as the woman approached his desk. "Got those test results?" "Sure do," Natalie replied, retrieving a folder. "Wish the computer techs would be as quick. We're still waiting on them to tackle George Smither's computer," Adam muttered under his breath. "I hear they're backed up," Natalie said. "Where's Nick? He'd probably like to hear this too." "He's taken a couple of hours off to take care of some personal business. Wanna bet it has to do with his Caddy? Still thinks he's going to find the thing. *You* try to tell him by this date it's probably gone for good." Adam sighed in exasperation. "He's usually right in the midst of *our* investigations. This time all he's doing is answering his cell phone. The least he could've done is used his home number for the ads. They could leave a message on his machine, you know. There's nothing new about Nick being preoccupied, but this is really getting on my nerves. The captain's too....Oops, didn't mean to unload on you like that." "That's okay, his other partners did all the time," Natalie admitted. "I'm used to it. Hope he snaps out of it soon because there's an interesting twist in the Smither case." "What've you got for me?" he asked. He took a folder from the doctor's hands. "First of all, the body in question is not dear old Uncle Virgil," she commented. "Virgil received a clean bill of health from his doctor not three months ago. Our corpse has advanced lung cancer. Second, Mr. John Doe is at least a decade younger than Virgil." "Which means we have a second murder on our hands..." "Possibly, though I really don't think so," Natalie said. "The strange thing is, I was able to match *unburned* fibers on the burned body with fibers found at Virgil's home." "Mavis..." Adam said, smiling hopefully. "Maybe, but none of the fibers from the truck match those two samples," Natalie explained. Reaching out, she flipped several pages in the report, pointing out a paragraph. "Plus, I found chemical residue on our John Doe-- chemicals used for embalming. After some investigation of my own, I discovered the corpse's dental records match a man who died in that nursing home fire the same night Virgil disappeared. "I heard about that. The man was smoking in bed, right?" "Right. And it just so happens, he had no family. The nursing home requested the man be cremated and his ashes scattered," Natalie said. "Seems somebody, my guess is the funeral home, left out a step in the process. Want to guess which funeral home?" "Yes!" Adam cheered. "Reese is going to like this one." (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Sun, 27 Apr 1997 01:50:31 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: If It Be Now (08/10) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #11 Episode Title: "If It Be Now" "Air" Date: April 24, 1997 Author: Libby Singleton from a story idea by Sara Orel Part 8 of 10 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 1997 Elizabeth Ann (Libby) Singleton and Sara Orel -------------------------- IF IT BE NOW The address Sykes gave to his captain led Nick to a seemingly vacant farmhouse several kilometers north of metropolitan Toronto. Peering through the window, he could see a worn sofa situated in front of a television along with numerous empty beer cans. There were also various items appearing to be pieces of automobile engines. His senses sharpened by excitement, Nick paused to listen to the noises of the night. A lone heartbeat led him to a large barn not far from the house. Though there were no cars in sight, he noted countless tire tracks leading toward the building. The air was ripe with gasoline, oil and transmission fluid odors. Here and there cup holders, cassette tapes, and receipts from garages littered the ground. Attracted by a splash of gold, Nick scooted some dirt aside, uncovering a matchbook imprinted with the Raven's logo. Though Nick knew Janette had handed out thousands of the matchbooks when she owned the nightclub, all he could think about were the ones he'd tossed in the Caddy's glove box. Allowing his fangs to fully drop, he rushed to the barn, nearly ripping the large door off the hinges in his urge to find at least the remains of his car. "What the...?" A husky, red-haired guy stepped from behind the raised hood of an Explorer. Despite the evening's chill, the man was wearing only a oil-stained, sleeveless T-shirt and torn, faded jeans. Relishing the look of sheer terror on the guy's face, Nick flew at him. He pushed the man against the far wall with such force a shelf fell, sending numerous tools to the dirt floor. "Where's my car?" Nick growled through his fangs. "My Cadillac, where is it?" "Wha...what the hell are you?" the guy said, trembling badly. "Where is my 1962 Cadillac?" Nick snarled. "It's green. What did you do with the pieces?" "That convertible? The...the really big one?" "Yes!" "We...I mean the guy I work for...sold it, the whole thing at once." He began to sob. "Said we'd get more for it that way." "To whom?" Nick asked threateningly. "He's American, I think. I... I don't know his name." "Do you really expect me to believe that?!" "He paid cash...We...I mean the guy I work for... doesn't like to ask a lot of questions. Tha...that could get dangerous, man!" Nick slanted his head slightly, listening intently to the man's heartbeat, to his pulse. The sounds and smell of his blood called to the vampire. "No more dangerous than me," Nick snarled, opening his mouth wide. If the man was lying, Nick would find the truth in his blood. If the guy was telling the truth, he deserved his punishment.... A grinding noise too faint for mortal ears caused Nick to pause just before his teeth touched the man's skin. Several cars had just pulled up some distance from the barn. Focusing, he could hear whispers. One of the voices was familiar: Sykes. Staring into the tear-filled eyes of the mortal he held against the wall, Nick felt shame. As far as he knew, this man had never killed anyone and yet had nearly lost his life over a car. The thrill of revenge suddenly left Nick. His fangs receded. His sensibilities returned. "You will forget this happened," Nick ordered softly. "No one inquired about a '62 Cadillac convertible." "No one," the man repeated in a whisper. "You'll leave this building with your hands up and surrender." "I will leave." Hiding in the shadow of a cluttered corner, Nick watched as the man left the barn, arms raised, and gave himself up. Before the larceny squad could enter the building, Nick slipped out a window and took flight in the night sky. **** When the police had showed up at George's home, they had awakened him from the first sound sleep he'd had in weeks. After handcuffing him like a common criminal and reading him his rights, they'd dragged him under protest down to the station, where he'd been led to a hard chair in a bare interrogation room. Detective Sakai leaned against the wall and watched as Reese started the questioning. George Smither was not happy. "What's the big deal?" George asked, looking up into Reese's eyes. The captain's mannerisms were all business, but George knew the truth behind the facade. Reese was gloating inside, taking a sick pleasure in the situation. "All I did was dump that body!" "Which, in itself, is a serious crime!" Reese said. "Didn't you know we'd identify the body?" "It was a chance I was willing to take! You have to take risks in the business world," George explained. "When I saw that ridiculous 'suicide clause' on my uncle's life insurance policy, I admit I panicked. I figured if a body was found that *might* match Virgil's, then they'd release the money a little sooner. I just *own* the funeral homes, handle the business angle. I'm hardly an expert on the dead! Maybe it was stupid, but fortunes are made off stupidity every day. Uncle Virgil made his with bumper cars and midgets dressed as cartoon characters!" "So you're retracting your insistence that Virgil was murdered?" Reese asked. "Hardly! There's no telling what atrocities that con man friend of his has committed with his body," George replied. "In fact, I can't see why you're wasting your time with this foolishness when you could be out tracking down Mavis! Commissioner Prange...." "Has wiped his hands of you for now. What you've admitted to is illegal," Reese said. "We're booking you, though you'll be transferred to another division for actual prosecution. Detective Sakai, want to do the honors?" "Gladly, Captain. "Threats will get you nowhere." George scowled. "Find Mavis and you'll see the truth! The truth will set me free! You'll see!" "Better arrange for a psych evaluation while we're at it," Reese stated. "Are you calling me crazy?" George snarled, knowing he'd walk away from this on false accusations alone. "Uncle Virgil would be proud of what I've done!" **** Natalie leaned against her own car in frustration. For half an hour Nick had been circling the 1962 Cadillac. Belonging to Dr. Myrtle Landers, a retired physician she'd met at a medical conference, the car was a wreck. Its front fender was dented, the headlights broken, a taillight missing; there was more rust than blue paint, and it wasn't a convertible. Still, Nat hoped it would be close enough to ease Nick's loss, his resignation to the fact he'd most likely never see his original Caddy again. "Think about it for a minute or two while I run in to find the dang keys. Thought they were still on my ring; guess not," the elderly doctor said. "Why don't you talk it over with Dr. Lambert. Buying a car is always a big step. But you'll be getting a real classic, the neighbor's boy tells me. He's the one who got it running." She banged her palm on the hood playfully. "I can't decide," Nick said after the doctor entered her house. "It's not the same." "Obviously it needs a little work," Natalie replied. "It isn't like you can't afford to have it restored. Maybe there's even a way to make it a convertible. A kit or something. Shoot, you've got a huge garage. Do the work yourself! You can get some tools, some books and...." "That's not the problem," he sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the car. "I just don't feel like I could, I dunno, *bond* with it." "Good grief, Nicholas Knight!" Natalie exclaimed, looking toward the sky. "We're talking about a car here, not a puppy or even LaCroix!" Nick glared at her. "You're beginning to sound like him, you know." "And you're acting *worse* than he does on a bad day... night...whatever!" she said, drawing in a deep breath. "Okay, I'm sorry, that *was* a little low. But you're really becoming a pain in the neck--pun wholeheartedly intended! You can afford anything on the market. Get a sports utility vehicle, a van, a truck with a cover over the bed--for God's sake, Nick, you really need to buy *something* to get your mind off the Caddy!" He turned back toward the car. "Maybe if I painted it green...." "Found the keys," Dr. Landers called as she walked out the front door. "Like I said, the neighbor boy got her started, but it hasn't been driven anywhere other than the corner store. This was my husband's car, you know. Never did like the tank." She handed the keys to Nick. "Do the honors, son." Natalie offered Nick a reassuring smile as he sat down behind the steering wheel. The engine rattled, but didn't catch on the first try. Nick pumped the gas pedal a few times before trying again. The car sputtered, then finally started, black smoke billowing out the tailpipe. Natalie found herself fighting a cough due to the fumes. "Nothing that can't be fixed, I don't think," Nick cried out over the sound of the engine. "Wait a minute. Why doesn't the radio work?" "Hasn't worked in about thirty years or so," Dr. Landers said. "Excuse me," Natalie said, brushing past the other doctor. She leaned into the car. "You can get a new radio. Like you said, there's nothing wrong that can't be fixed." "It's just not *the* Caddy." Nick stared out the front window for a moment. "I don't want it." (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Sun, 27 Apr 1997 01:50:37 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: If It Be Now (09/10) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #11 Episode Title: "If It Be Now" "Air" Date: April 24, 1997 Author: Libby Singleton from a story idea by Sara Orel Part 9 of 10 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 1997 Elizabeth Ann (Libby) Singleton and Sara Orel -------------------------- IF IT BE NOW "You jerks yank me off a plane, drag me down here, then say *I* killed Virgil Smither?" Mavis laughed, the sound filling the interrogation room. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "We're not accusing you of anything yet," Adam said. He glanced at his partner who stood a few feet to the side. Nick shrugged slightly, obviously just as baffled by the suspect's reaction. Mavis hardly seemed the hysterical type. A scar running down his right cheek added to his overall tough guy appearance. "Better not," Mavis said. "See, Virgil ain't dead. He's run off to New Zealand. Shoot, by now he's probably married his e-mail lady friend." "Married?" Adam asked. "Yeah, MsKiwi," Mavis remarked, leaning his elbows on the table. "Virgil's the adventurous type, see. Not long after I started working for him, he bought a computer. Said he wanted to learn something new. Seeing as I had training on 'em in the pen, I helped him set it up, taught him the basics. Next thing you know, he's having me set him up on the 'Net, so I did." "If so, why didn't he just go to New Zealand instead of faking his death?" Nick asked. "George." Mavis spat the word out as if it were vulgar. "The guy's plain weird, you know. Outright obsessed with his uncle. The way I understand it, George's father, Virgil's twin brother, died a while back. Made George swear on his deathbed he'd take care of Virgil in his old age. Problem is, George took the promise too serious. Seems to think that Virgil, on account of his age, needs to be some sort of couch potato. The guy's got a few wrinkles, sure, but he's a kid at heart. If George knew what Virgil was up to, he would've thrown a temper tantrum. Might've even pulled some strings to get Virgil declared incompetent. That's why there was money missing from the banking accounts.... George kept such a tight reign on things poor ol' Virgil had to transfer funds over the 'net to a Swiss bank account so's to avoid having 'em in his nephew's hand- kept ledgers. That's how he maneuvered the funds for the New Zealand trip." "This is really getting weird, like a plot to a bad movie," Adam said. "What about Virgil's passport, his plane ticket? No airline had records of him traveling...." "Well... let's just say I have connections. There's ways to travel incognito--if you've got the dough." "I can back that up," Nick muttered. "Not that I did any of the arrangements myself," Mavis added. "I just put him in touch with the right person, you know. In exchange, he gave me the truck. Figured he wouldn't be needing it anymore." "Why did you leave Toronto then?" Adam asked. "Virgil's suggestion. I left two days before he did," Mavis explained. "That's where we goofed. He figured if I wasn't here, I wouldn't be a suspect. I decided to do a little sightseeing. If I'd realized the screw up with the name on my ticket would've turned into this big a deal, I'd have made them issue a new one." "You realize we'll need proof of this," Adam said. "We've got techs trying to restore the programs Virgil erased from the computer, but that may take a while. Do you have...MsKiwi's real name or phone number?" "I'm sure Virgil did, but I don't." Mavis shook his head. "Say...do you guys have Internet access here? I do know her e-mail addy. Just send her a message, explain the situation, and I'm sure Virgil would be in touch." "We've got one we use for research," Nick said. "I don't know if it has e-mail capabilities...." "It does," Adam confirmed. A half hour later, Adam sat in front of the terminal in a remote corner of the office. Though he hadn't been trained on the system yet, Adam found the e-mail program easy, especially under Mavis' tutelage. "You think that's worded okay, Nick?" he asked. He glanced at his partner, who stood with Mavis behind him. "You left the 'k' off my last name," Nick corrected. "Picky, picky," Adam teased, making the correction. "Nick, you've got a computer. Are you on-line yet?" "No. I really don't think I'd use...." Nick started to say. He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. "Knight.... No, my car was definitely a '62 Cadillac, not a '69 LTD." Noticing Mavis' curious expression, Adam leaned back and whispered, "His car was stolen, so he's got a classified running, for all the good it'll do...." "Yes, ma'am," Nick continued. "I'm sure the garage didn't steal my car. Thank you anyway." Adam unsuccessfully tried to hide his snicker as Nick folded his cell phone. "I'm sorry that wasn't your car." "I can tell," Nick replied sarcastically. "Maybe it ain't any of my business, but you oughta post a message on the 'Net," Mavis offered. "Really think it'd help?" Nick asked. "Couldn't hurt. I've got a friend who dabbles in antique cars. Met him in prison, though I've heard he's gone straight since his release. Too much of a coward to cheat a cop anyway," Mavis said. "If he hasn't seen your car, maybe he can cut you a deal on a replacement." "He's tried that route," Adam teased, reaching up to punch Nick playfully in the arm. "Just wasn't the same, was it?" "The radio didn't work," Nick mumbled, as if that explained everything. "Let's give it a try anyway." Mavis shrugged. "All I gotta do is send an e-mail and ask him to reply here." "Whoa," Adam cautioned. "That'd mean anyone here could see the reply message. I'm not sure how well that'd go over with Reese." Looking at Nick, Mavis asked, "Is there another addy you can use? A friend's, maybe?" Adam noticed that Nick suddenly looked a little nervous. "I guess so," he said hesitantly. Then suddenly, he smiled. "What the heck, have him reply to Rosebud at...." (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Sun, 27 Apr 1997 01:50:41 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: If It Be Now (10/10) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #11 Episode Title: "If It Be Now" "Air" Date: April 24, 1997 Author: Libby Singleton from a story idea by Sara Orel Part 10 of 10 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 1997 Elizabeth Ann (Libby) Singleton and Sara Orel -------------------------- IF IT BE NOW <> LaCroix looked slowly up at Nicholas as he turned off the microphone and cued a tape. His son wore an expression of stubborn determination, his gaze unwavering. "Well, Nicholas, am I to understand you played the role of the deer?" "Hardly." "Ah, are you honestly that certain?" LaCroix stood to peer downward at his son. "The perpetrator of the automobile theft was in your hands, yours to do with as you pleased. Instead of taking his life's blood as payment for the crime, you let the man go free, unpunished." "He'll be punished," Nicholas said, eyes narrowing with annoyance. "Is that what you call mortal justice?" LaCroix retorted, returning the expression. "A mere slap on the hand plus free room and board for a few years." "It was my car, LaCroix; *just* a car," Nicolas snapped. "I have no regrets for letting larceny handle him. I'll accept whatever justice the courts see fit." "So be it," LaCroix said evenly. The anger now showing was nothing more than Nicholas' routine irritation when they disagreed. No longer could he sense Nicholas' desire for revenge. His son's bloodlust was now well controlled. LaCroix didn't bother concealing his disappointment in countenance or emotion. At last Nicholas lowered his eyes a little, then quickly shifted them in the direction of the door. "I...I guess I should be heading to the office...." "So soon?" LaCroix interjected. "What about the reason you arranged this pleasant visit in the first place?" "Forget it," Nicholas said, shaking his head. "It's a long shot anyway. I've got to face the fact the Caddy is gone." "Oh, no, Nicholas," LaCroix said, "you are hardly going to 'forget it.'" There was a moment of shock, then the growing sense of excitement radiating from the younger vampire. "The chase, after all, is far from over." He reached into a cabinet, retrieving his laptop computer. "You may have let the fox run free, but there's still the matter of retrieving the stolen hen. Perhaps this will rekindle the fire within you." Though busy readying the computer, LaCroix could tell Nicholas had inched closer to him, silently watching. "This, of course, does not mean I approve of you handing out my electronic mail address," LaCroix commented. "Having one's privacy stolen differs little from the theft of a possession." "Yours is the only address I know offhand," Nicholas muttered. "What else was I supposed to do?" "Join the twentieth century before the twenty-first begins, for one thing," LaCroix stated. "For once it appears *you* are the one failing to keep pace with the times, so to speak. Not that the old ways are without advantages, but even the Community must change...." "This has nothing to do with the Community, LaCroix...." "Ah, I see...but it has everything to do with you and your precious toy!" LaCroix pointed out. "Despite your denial, there's still a spark of the beast within you concerning this matter. After all, this act is meant solely to please yourself and not some suffering mortal! There's hope for you yet, though you realize you *will* owe me for this." "LaCroix...." Nicholas said uneasily before falling silent. "Oh, Nicholas, you do worry too much," LaCroix replied. "I'll think of something appropriately...mundane." Once LaCroix was logged on and the e-mail list visible, Nicholas nearly tipped the computer over when he pointed out a name. "That's him! That's the guy Mavis contacted!" LaCroix glared at Nicholas. The younger vampire immediately stepped back. "Uncontrolled exuberance is unbecoming," he said, opening the message. He read over the contents quickly. "Congratulations, Nicholas. It appears as though your automobile turned up during a drug raid in New York City. Your e-mail friend further says that although repainted, the vehicle has been positively identified as yours." "Repainted?" Nicholas muttered worriedly. "Does he say what color?" "Anything would be an improvement over that miserable shade of green, don't you think?" LaCroix asked, relishing his son's sudden panic. "He...he doesn't say what color anywhere!" "Oh, really," LaCroix sighed. "That symbol there," he pointed to the screen, "indicates an attached file. Apparently we've been sent a picture of your automobile." Nicholas grabbed a chair and sat next to his master. "Then open the file!" "I'm not sure I should," LaCroix remarked. "You are becoming overexcited." "LaCroix, please!" The moment the graphic of the Caddy began developing on screen, LaCroix allowed himself a slight smile. "It should be quite easy to locate the person who purchased your car from the thief," LaCroix said. "Quite obviously a cosmetics saleswoman gone mad." Nicholas' expression was one of total disbelief. "My...my car!" he cried, the tips of his fangs visible beneath his upper lip. LaCroix noted with amusement that his son's eyes were also shifting to yellow. "It's pink!" "With, if I'm not mistaken, fake fur seat covers. My, my, that *is* overdoing it a little, isn't it?" LaCroix remarked. "There appears to be something on the front dash...." He ordered the computer to enlarge the area, and the figure became quite clear. "What is that?" "Looks like one of those dog figures," Nicholas muttered. "The head bobs up and down as you drive along." "I'm rather disappointed there are no 'fuzzy dice' hanging from the rear view mirror," LaCroix commented. "That would complete the entire look." "I don't care!" Nicholas said, suddenly laughing in an all-too-mortal way. "You don't care?" LaCroix asked, blinking a few times. "You should most definitely care, Nicholas. Your property has been found in an utterly vandalized state... despoiled! The automobile was painful to gaze upon before, but this... this is grotesque! You should be furious!" "Why? I can get it repainted and the interior restored," Nicholas explained happily. "Or, who knows, LaCroix, I might get used to this new look! Tell you what, as soon as I get the car back, I'll take you for a drive." "I do *not* think so," LaCroix growled. Without warning, Nicholas placed his hand on his master's shoulder. "Thanks, LaCroix," he said sincerely. "Thank you." LaCroix watched Nicholas practically bound out of the sound booth. He retrieved a partially empty bottle from a cabinet and poured the remaining blood into a goblet. After taking several large swallows, he flipped the microphone on, pondering the disappointing outcome of the situation. He allowed silence to air for a few seconds. <> **** "Nat? Just wanted you to know I've got the Caddy and I'm on my way back," Nick said, balancing the cell phone between his chin and shoulder. "It's running fine! I'll be home with an hour to spare." Deactivating the phone, Nick allowed his speed to increase as he traveled the country road, heading toward Toronto. On the dash, the toy dog's head bobbed up and down swiftly. The Caddy's top was down, allowing Nick's hair to whip in the wind. He was glad he hadn't had time for a haircut. As he drove closer to the city, he reset the radio to CERK and leaned back in his seat. The static could be tolerated until he came within range of the station. <<...Since he went to France, I have been in continual practice. I shall win at the odds....>> "Still on Hamlet, LaCroix?" Nick said aloud. "Now who's obsessed?" He glanced down at the radio, grinning. "I will fight with him upon this theme until my eyelids will no longer wag." Life's good tonight, Nick thought. He was taking *his* car back to *his* home. Yes, he realized, Toronto was, indeed, home. For once, the fact seemed right. <> Nick smiled, and started quoting along with LaCroix. "If it be now, 'tis not to come--if it be not to come, it will be now--if it be not now, yet it will come--the readiness is all." <<... Are you truly ready for what is to come, gentle listeners?>> "All that matters to me is the 'now,'" Nick decided aloud. "The here and now with my foot on the gas pedal and my hands on the...." A thumping noise accompanied by the sudden inability to properly steer the Cadillac forced him to the shoulder. A herd of dairy cattle looked up at him curiously, sleepily chewing their cud. "Thank you, ladies, but I've already fed tonight," he reassured them. The back passenger-side tire was completely flat. An examination revealed a large roofing nail embedded in the rubber. Slipping off his jacket, he tossed it in the back seat, eager to do this manual task--until he noticed the spare tire was missing. An immediate damper was put on his mood. He threw the jack against the road's shoulder hard enough to cause it to bounce. Sitting on the hood for a few minutes, Nick studied the cows, his fangs pressing against his lower lip. What he really wanted to do was drain the entire herd, though he knew their fresh blood would be as bland as the bottled variety. Fortunately, they seemed so peaceful, so content despite their fenced-in lifestyle that he was able to control his instincts. After all, wasn't a routine flat tire exactly the sort of situation he wanted to deal with? Once again smiling, he retrieved his cell phone. "Nat, Nick again. I'm sorry to bother you, but I've got another mortal problem...." he said. "Yeah, I'm about 50 kilometers west of Toronto. If the sun's up, I'll be in the trunk...." ************************* Author's notes: Dedicated to beloved cars everywhere. In memory of two very special cars: Sara's parents' 1975 Chrysler New Yorker, red with a white roof, named Cleo (her current car could've fit in the trunk); and Libby's 1964 AMC Rambler, blue (when it had paint, gray primer and rust when it didn't), which took the newborn Libby home from the hospital and saw her quite successfully through college (and still rests in a state of total disrepair in her parents' backyard). Honorable mention should be made of Libby's current purple 1992 Ford F-150 Flareside truck over which she's been known to expertly angst. Special thanks to all the alpha and beta readers on this episode, especially Leslie, who provided one-on-one alpha advice, and TJ, who is always willing to guide the process (and who is thoroughly missed when he's off-line for even one day). Plus we'd like to thank Spifff for providing accuracy in our depiction of life in Toronto while putting all the locations in their proper places. ************************* Posting notes: This story was originally posted with incomplete, incorrect credits. The corrected version follows. If you are saving this story, please replace the credits at the start of part 1 with the following: Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #11 Episode Title: "If It Be Now" "Air" Date: April 24, 1997 Author: Libby Singleton from a story idea by Sara Orel Alpha Readers: Julia Kocich , Dawn Steele, Leslie GrantSmith Beta Readers: Sandra Gray, Stephanie Babbitt, Jean Simon , Canadian/Toronto Content: Spifff Historical Verification Group: Elizabeth Ann Lewis Continuity: Sarah Baker , Amanda Sridasome -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com.