From Beth_Washington@AVID.COM Sat Jul 25 19:47:34 1998 Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 17:04:14 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (1/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (01/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #17 Episode Title: "Moments of Choice" "Air" Date: July 23, 1998 Author: Dawn Steele with help from Libby Singleton Alpha Readers: Beth Washington, John Folden, Julia Kocich, Sara Orel Beta Readers: Wendy Rigney, Marci Cheeseman, Angie Lotto, Jean Simon, Beth Washington Historical Verification: Marci Cheeseman The Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season is a project whereby a group of Forever Knight fans are putting together a series of stories continuing from where Last Knight left off. Participation is open to all. For more information, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Comments should be sent to the author or to the FKV4S-L mailing list. This story will be available in its entirety from . 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 1998 Dawn Steele and Elizabeth Ann Singleton ------------------------------------------------------ For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com Part 1 of 14 The Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season is a project whereby a group of Forever Knight fans are putting together a series of stories continuing from where Last Knight left off. Participation is open to all. For more information, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Comments should be sent to the author or to the FKV4S-L mailing list. This story will be available in its entirety from . 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 1998 Dawn Steele and Elizabeth Ann Singleton ------------------------------------------------------ MOMENTS OF CHOICE The papers lying on the desk were violently shoved off with the single sweep of an arm. They fluttered like wounded birds before drifting slowly to the ground. "Nothing!" The tall, slender man behind the desk proceeded to jerk open the top drawer. The hotel's stationary soon joined the mess on the floor. "I'm telling you Cellucci, Stapleton doesn't know what he's talking about -- she isn't here!" Cellucci stared calmly back at him and continued going through the jewelry collection on the dresser. Almost as tall as the other man but much bulkier, he checked out each item carefully before tossing it to one side or slipping it into his side pocket. The current piece, a jewel encrusted necklace, looked fragile as it was held in his large, leather clad hands. It went into the pocket. "Someone's here, McCully. Female, wealthy, and fits the description of the one we're looking for." He shrugged and tipped over the jewelry box, dumping its few remaining pieces. After pulling out an antique switchblade from his pocket, he started to pry at the bottom of the box for a secret compartment. "Stapleton said to check the place out and get proof of her identity. That's what we'll do." Calm brown eyes stared levelly into angry gray ones. McCully did not appear to be happy doing what he apparently considered a "dirt job". "I say we wait until she gets back and then take back *proof* of her identity." Perfect teeth flashed cheekily out of a smoothly handsome face. "The only things she has in this hotel room are clothing receipts and a box full of what looks like bad wine." With a practiced snap of his wrist, Cellucci flipped the switchblade up in the air, caught it by the ivory handle, snapped it closed and slipped it into his pocket. His eyes never left McCully's. "Stapleton said to get proof. If she's the one, the men outside will grab her as she's coming back in." "Stapleton is getting old and sentimental. Everyone knows that!" McCully moved swiftly across the room to check out the front closet again. It was empty, like most of the hotel suite. There wasn't even an extra jacket hanging up. "We bring him the woman who killed his brother and he'll reward us. Come back empty handed and he'll go off his rocker." The room turned silent...and tense. Cellucci, as usual for the pair, broke the silence. "I've worked for Old Man Stapleton for over twenty years. I've worked with you for six months. He'll be pissed -- but not irrational." "I saw him flip out when those two goons he sent down to New Orleans disappeared." "One was a second cousin on his wife's side. Stapleton knew both of them most of their lives. He trusted them not to mess up." He paused. "Family is important to him, and this woman has hit twice. That's why he started looking for her in the first place." "Sure, sure...whatever you say." The scattered receipts crunched underneath McCully's feet. "I've heard rumors that he's more interested in the information she's still supposed to have." McCully moved into the bathroom, and Cellucci watched him start tossing aside the hotel-supplied bath products one by one. He sighed and then started opening empty dresser drawers. Although Cellucci hated to admit it, McCully being an overconfident ass -- the man could be right in this case. Stapleton would be furious if they came back empty-handed. The two men in New Orleans had disappeared without a trace, and the woman they had been sent to kill had vanished. Cellucci stared at the half-closed bathroom door. Stapleton might have ordered them to case the place when the woman was out for safety's sake, but he doubted the old man would care if McCully disappeared. McCully was too ambitious for his own good, with too many of his own family connections to get rid of easily. Opening up his favorite switchblade again, Cellucci slashed open the pillow cases and fingered through the feathers inside. Nothing! They wouldn't find anything here. He could feel it in his gut. He systematically went through the clothing in the closet piece by piece. There were expensive travelling clothes and day suits; very stylish. Two were still in the protective covers from the store. When the plastic hit the closet floor, he started going over each piece of clothing methodically for pockets or any identification. Covering every last detail was what he did best, and why he was still alive when most of the men he had started out with in the business were either dead or in jail. McCully stomped back through the bathroom door and ripped off his gloves. "We're not going to find anything here!" He was making enough noise to mask the sound of the hotel room door opening, but not the crash from the falling trash can Cellucci had positioned above the door. It served as a crude but effective alarm. Cellucci's revolver appeared as if by magic in his hand, pointing straight at the terrified boy's head. He was wearing the purple hotel staff uniform, a bellboy's cap...and couldn't have been more than seventeen. "Get inside," Celluci ordered. McCully, smarter in these types of situations than he ever was in day-to-day operations, slipped behind the teenager and pushed the door closed. The young man whimpered when he heard it close, and his cap tumbled over onto the floor. McCully pushed him further into the room, and then came around to one side. "What are you doing here?" He reinforced his question with a jab from his Beretta. "I...I just wanted to peek inside." The bellhop backed up a step and then stopped when Cellucci pulled back the hammer of his heavy revolver. McCully walked behind him again and flipped the deadbolt home. Cellucci's trigger finger itched at the sound -- McCully should have remembered that detail when he stepped behind him the first time. The teenager responded by squeezing his eyes shut. "Why did you want to *peek* inside? Did you hear noises?" Cellucci's calm voice settled the rather nervous boy down a bit, and relaxed him enough to speak. "Ju-just wanted to see if that lady was back in. That's all!" "What lady?" "Ah...she gave me a twenty to wait for the shop guy to drop off the rest of her clothes. I just wanted to see if she was back yet! Honest!" Cellucci eased the hammer back down on his gun, and lowered it slightly. "Didn't mean to startle you. We're policemen after a suspect." He turned his head towards McCully and signaled with his gun before putting it away. "Let me just show you a picture." Reaching into his suit jacket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper. Unwrapping it, Cellucci showed the boy a police sketch of a dark-haired woman with large, piercing eyes. "Is this her?" The teenager pointed at the paper, and smiled in relief. "Yeah, that's her. So what is she wanted for?" "Murder." A whistle. "Really? Who would've thought..." The silencer McCully had slipped onto his Beretta muffled the sound nicely and the teenager never knew what happened. He was dead before his body hit the carpet. "I don't know why you can't get a proper gun instead of that old monstrosity." McCully unscrewed the silencer unit off the end of his Beretta and slipped it into his pocket. It, and the gun he put back into his shoulder holster, didn't even crease the expensive fabric. "I always end up getting rid of the witnesses in public places." "I keep it because I like it." Cellucci patted the bulge in his jacket where his large gun marred its smooth line. "We've got our proof, although Stapleton won't like the body." McCully grinned. "Let's notify the men downstairs, and get out of here before someone else checks on the room." He started to whistle, restored to a good mood by the violence and the adrenaline coursing through his system. Cellucci pulled the door shut behind them: the automatic lock clicked with a sound of finality. *** The blood scent hit her before she got through the patio doors. Her sensitive ears listened for sounds inside, but the only ones she could hear were coming from other rooms. The only person in the room no longer had a heartbeat. Fine-boned, delicate hands twisted the patio doors apart. She'd left the latch unlocked: a minor indiscretion on the 49th floor. Her heeled boots clicked softly against the patio concrete and then were swallowed in the thick carpet. She moved over to the body, and used her foot to flip him over to see the face. After a minute she carefully repositioned him back to how she'd found him. It was time to move quickly. If she was lucky, the body wouldn't be discovered until she was supposed to check out in three days. She didn't make a habit of trusting luck, however. It was too capricious. So she gathered up the few pieces of jewelry left scattered on the dresser, and shoved them in her pocket. A few graphic curses in French filled the room when she discovered the tattered remnants of her new clothes. She lifted up the heavy box of bottles as if it weighed nothing. On the way out to the patio, she saw the body again...and hesitated. Was her current course the right one? She could dispose of the body and wait here for the assassins to come for her. She shivered. They could come during the day, armed with fire again. Realistically -- she *knew* she could take them. They hadn't known she was a vampire. She had killed the others; she could kill them too. But the last time they had found her...it had been too close for comfort, and she was so damn *weak* during the day now. At this rate it would take decades, perhaps centuries, to regain her former strength and stamina! No, it was time to leave -- past time. She left the patio doors open on her way out. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From Beth_Washington@AVID.COM Sat Jul 25 19:47:43 1998 Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 17:04:22 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (2/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (02/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #17 Episode Title: "Moments of Choice" "Air" Date: July 23, 1998 Author: Dawn Steele with help from Libby Singleton Part 2 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 1998 Dawn Steele and Elizabeth Ann Singleton ------------------------------------------------------ Nick stepped over the overturned lamp near the door and moved further into the hotel room. As usual, there was a small crew of forensics techs at the scene. "Looks like Michaels and his merry lads beat us again," Adam said. He adjusted his new black leather jacket in a move that Nick was rapidly becoming familiar with. The jacket was a present from Adam's fiancee, Kelly, on their monthly anniversary two days before. It, along with his glossy black hair, made him look more like a Yakuza gangster than the 1960s tough-cop look he was aiming for. Either way, Nick noticed that women were giving Adam longer "second" glances. "I think forensics has more of a vested interest in getting to the scene immediately." Nick felt glass crunch underneath his shoe and saw Arthur Michaels, whose hearing rivaled that of a vampire, glare at him before he moved on to help the photographer. "Not as much hurry for us when the body's long cold." Carefully stepping over the scattered papers on the floor near the desk, Nick moved next to where Natalie was kneeling near the body. At least there wasn't much blood this time to bother her -- or him. She stood up and turned towards them as they came closer. "Death looks to have been pretty much instantaneous, but I'll know more once I get the cranial cap off for a closer look. The left side of the skull is fractured, and there's damage to the facial structures, but no exit wound. Forensics will have to wait until I dig the bullet out." "Bullet to the head, no exit wound...," Nick mused. "Gangster style slaying. Probably used a silencer which would slow down the bullet velocity and momentum." Adam looked remarkably cheerful, but then he'd been cheerful all night. "Crime is a dark, messy business, my son," he intoned darkly. Natalie just lifted one dark eyebrow. "I don't think young Mr. Hughes here appreciates the situation as much as you do." Adam shrugged. "I don't think he cares much one way or the other." Nick bent over and turned the face towards him. Mild blue eyes gazed at the ceiling in a face locked into a perpetually startled expression. "Ident's already been made then?" With a quick jab over her clipboard, Natalie pointed towards the bedroom area of the hotel suite, where a rather nervous looking middle-aged man was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, sipping coffee and talking to a uniformed officer. "The hotel manager made the ID. He's also the one who made the phone call to 911." "Notice anything unusual?" Adam peered inquiringly at Natalie. Nick and Natalie shared a brief glance, and Nick felt a faint tingle of amusement run along their link. They'd discussed Adam briefly the previous evening when Natalie had come by his place after work for "coffee" and conversation. One of the things Nick had pointed out was Adam's recent habit of assuming Natalie would notice any and all important details. That had led to Natalie pointing out that Nick did it too. The conversation had degenerated quickly after that into friendly banter. Nick smiled in remembrance, and no little bit of relief. After months of anger and fighting, they were talking again. Neither one wanted to rush into anything, but still...the awkward silences were diminishing. It wasn't the friendship they had started with, or the on-again off-again relationship that followed, but a big improvement over the hostility of the last year. "Like you said -- earmarks of a professional killing. The woman who was staying here hasn't shown up yet." Natalie shrugged. "Maybe you can get a bit more information from the manager than Charlie could. He was protesting lack of knowledge the last I overheard." She paused. "Finished looking at the body? Arthur will have the blowups on your desk before you're back at the precinct if he's being his usual efficient self." With one last look at the body's position to fix it into his memory, Nick started over to the hotel manager. With part of his attention, he heard Adam talking to Natalie about what she'd seen on the way in. It was halfway to being an interrogation. On the way over, he scanned the open rooms. The bedroom area and bathroom were built slightly higher than the rest of the room, and one had to walk down a couple of the plushly carpeted stairs to get into the "living" room. Three couches, numerous plants and end tables crowded the area. The heavy curtains were drawn back beside the windows, while the inner sheer curtains at the open patio door fluttered in the cool evening breeze. It was a room made for parties and entertainment -- and sleeping in late the next day. Tonight, filled with policemen, with cameras flashing brightly in the background -- it seemed appallingly empty. One step into the bedroom area, Nick stopped. A faint scent was in the air; a whisper of presence and familiarity. Nick shook his head. He had to be imagining things. *Had* to be. Of all the places in the world for her to be, Janette would hardly pick Toronto. Not after what had happened the last time she was here. Still... Nick detoured around the curious uniformed officer and peered into the closet. A small, but costly selection of clothes. Dresses and suits built to fit a slim, but not excessively tall woman. Running his fingers through the torn garnet velvet of one of the dresses, he scented the perfume again. This room had been occupied by a woman that favoured Janette's custom blend of subtle perfume. Two pairs of black pumps in boxes were on the floor, size seven; Janette's size. Nick's whole being narrowed and the other presences in the room faded as he started examining the bedroom area intently. The policeman and the manager, with their warm blood and rapid heartbeats, were ignored. With an act of will, he prevented his eyes from changing. The table tops were empty, and so were the dressers. Why would she, if indeed it was Janette, leave behind her new clothes but take her lingerie? Surely the person who had ruined the dresses would take time with the underclothes as well. Nick started pulling one drawer open after another, with the only result being the hotel's secret cache of stationery and restaurant information. He quickly closed the drawer containing the Gideon Bible before managing to pull it more than half open. A glimmer of gold beneath the bedside table caught his eye. Nick reached for it and...watched Adam's plastic covered hand pick it up before he could get it. With considerable effort, he forced down the angry growl rising in his throat. "Hey! Better get your gloves on." Adam flipped over the delicate gold ring to get a better look. It was a large sapphire framed by diamonds. Nick resisted the urge to rip it out of Adam's hand. That ring was Janette's. He'd given it to her during their last time together in England. His stomach lurched, and the remains of Natalie's latest concoction sat like a stone. With a quizzical look at Nick's still face, Adam slipped the ring into a plastic evidence bag. "Might be able to get some prints off it. Apparently, forensics techs aren't having much luck with the phone. Only a couple of partials that are likely the cleaning staffs from when they last cleaned it. She must not have made any calls." "Partials. Right." Nick sighed, and suddenly the room came back into loud and annoying focus. "I think we should interview the hotel manager." It couldn't be Janette. It *couldn't* be Janette -- he wasn't ready to face her yet. Nick turned on his heel and moved the two steps necessary to stand beside the manager, who'd stood up at his approach. "Detective Knight, Homicide." Nick waved a hand to indicate Adam's presence behind him. "This is my partner, Detective Sakai." Adam pulled out a small notebook, and flipped towards an empty page. "Why don't you take it from the top, and tell us everything in your own words." "Uh... My name's Don Williams. I'm the hotel manager here at the Renaissance, and have been for fourteen years now." He sighed tiredly and wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. "My quarters are on the eighth floor, and the night staff know enough to call me if they notice anything unusual." He stopped there and looked over at the body in the next room. Only the white pants and sneakers were visible. "What did they consider unusual?" Nick prompted. "Ian Hughes acts as a bellhop and helps with the room service after nine in the evening. He didn't come back after a delivery to room... room 1403, down the hall." Don Williams wiped off another bead of sweat. This clearly wasn't his idea of a fun evening. "One of the cleaning staff came upstairs and noticed the door of this suite was wide open. When she peeked in, she saw...," he waved at the body, "...and then came straight to me." "Is she still in the building?" Nick's tone was curt. Radio dispatch had indicated the hotel manager was the first on the scene. They needed to find her immediately. "I, uh..." Don Williams grimaced weakly. "After telling me about the body, she fainted. I left her down in my rooms." He shrugged. "I don't think she can tell you much, and she's always been a bit..." he shrugged again, disparagingly. "She has a nervous disposition." Nick sent a uniformed officer down to retrieve the missing woman while he continued interrogating the hotel manager. "What about the woman who rented this room?" Adam said. "What's her name?" "I don't know." The hotel manager slumped back onto the bed. "I don't even know what she looks like." Nick felt a wave of relief go through him. This wouldn't be like the last time. Half the police in Toronto had been after Janette then, and he'd had to hide her from his own partner. If it *was* Janette... "How'd she rent the rooms then?" Adam inquired. "The rooms were prepaid in advance by a company called Half Moon Incorporated. I think they're some sort of movie company. They even stipulated no room service. Her chauffeur signed for the room and picked up the keycards." Williams paused. "She was supposed to arrive early tomorrow morning. I guess she must have changed her plans without telling us." "Is that usual?" Adam asked. He threw a glance towards Nick's silent face. Nick was usually the one leading the interviews. "Not really." Williams finally pulled a small handkerchief out of his pants pocket and wiped at the sweat on his forehead. "Some of our wealthier customers like to remain anonymous, and have erratic schedules. We try to cater to everyone's needs." "What about hotel monitoring? Wouldn't they have picked her up in the lobby when she came in?" Adam said. "Um, I don't know. Probably." Williams stuffed his damp handkerchief back into his pants. "There was a wedding reception around the time of the chauffeur's check in. There were a lot of people. It might've picked her up if she came in later, but I couldn't tell you what she looks like." "We'll need those tapes." Adam made another note on his pad and then put it away. "We'll also need the names of the staff on duty tonight, and that of the wedding party. We're going to need help to identify as many people as possible. Nick turned away from the hotel manager and stared at the white curtains to the patio. Janette would want to remain anonymous after what had happened. He'd have to get a look at those tapes and make sure... Nick lost his train of thought as the realization of Janette's reappearance sank in. He closed his eyes and opened his other senses. Now that he had allowed himself to look for it, her presence was unmistakable. A distinct, if slight, vibration that proclaimed she was in Toronto. It was familiar through centuries of companionship and yet so very different from before. The resonance was wrong. She felt...strange and unfamiliar, like a missing piece of himself, instead of an echo of LaCroix. After spending a few minutes wrapping up details in the hotel room, Nick hurried Adam out as fast as he could. Janette's presence in the city had subsided to the background, but had not disappeared since the moment he looked for it. She was back -- and he didn't know how to feel about it. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From Beth_Washington@AVID.COM Sat Jul 25 19:47:50 1998 Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 17:04:30 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (3/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (03/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #17 Episode Title: "Moments of Choice" "Air" Date: July 23, 1998 Author: Dawn Steele with help from Libby Singleton Part 3 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 1998 Dawn Steele and Elizabeth Ann Singleton ------------------------------------------------------ <<...So remember gentle listeners, misguided beliefs can injure as grievously as the sharpest sword. Although time may heal some wounds, care must be taken to insure infection does not invade. So when visitors enter your home sweet home, insist they leave any contagious thoughts outside the front door.>> LaCroix turned the microphone off, then switched on the pre-recorded segment of his program. Standing, he retrieved an extra glass from a cabinet and filled it along with his own. He heard the sound booth door open, then the soft click of the latch as it closed. He did not turn toward the visitor. There was no need until he was sure of his own composure. The link was different, yet the familiarity was still there. "So, how have...things...been?" he asked smoothly, turning to offer the glass. "How unfortunate we missed each other during your last short visit to Toronto, my dear." Janette lowered her eyes slightly. "It isn't that I did not want to, LaCroix... But under the circumstances I did not think it wise." Slim pants made of some rich dark fabric were neatly tucked into her boots and, as if uncertain of her welcome, she hadn't removed her jacket when she entered. LaCroix savored a sip of the ruby liquid. "Certainly palatable, yet hardly one of my better vintages." She continued to merely hold her glass, staring at the contents. Finally she looked up, and locked her gaze onto his. "You should drink, ma cherie. I heard you were unwell recently, not quite yourself. Though you appear to be quite healthy now...." "I was *happy*, LaCroix!" Janette snapped. She quickly drained her glass, then sat it none-too-gently on the cabinet. Her fingers were shaking slightly. "No doubt." He sat his drink down, then ran a finger down her cheek. Though she didn't flinch, her forehead wrinkled into a slight scowl. Mentally, he tweaked their link in an attempt to discover her true emotions. The bond, however, was not strong enough. This troubled him; it was as though he'd discovered a personal treasure vandalized. A familiar item thought safe, instead was damaged or missing. He had *known* Nicholas had brought her back across, but until this minute had not known what that would mean between them. "Though surely you are not attempting to convince me that you were unhappy previously?" >>----------> 1218 AD, A remote castle in Persia Janette smoothed down her hair and fitted her veil carefully into place. It felt strange and confining, just like the rest of the country she found herself in. Lucien had said that she would enjoy Persia. There was the warmth of the night air, the customs that let people disappear without notice, and a stimulating culture. When she suggested she stay in Paris and meet up with him later, he had...disagreed. Now she was stuck in this miserable country until he decided he had satisfied his curiosity. "My place is at your side." He had spoken a mirror of those words in England while gripping her wrists strong enough to leave bruises that faded within the hour. "My place is at your side." She repeated the words in Persian. The vowels twisted uncomfortably on her tongue and she was aware that anyone hearing them would have no problem identifying her as a foreigner. The words also sounded false and hollow. "My place is at your side." There, that was better. In the smooth cadence of her more familiar French, she even sounded sincere. It hadn't been their first argument, and she doubted it would be their last. They were both too passionate, and too intense to drift through life with meaningless conversations. This whole situation was ridiculous though. She understood Lucien wanting to discuss strategy with the rulers here. Wars were interesting to him, and more than just chaos in which to enjoy a free meal. What she did not understand was his *insistence* that she accompany him to a land where the actions of women were more restricted than she was used to. She knew all the vampire codes they must live by and had often hunted alone where disposing of the body was not as important. A short separation would not break the bond between them. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. The last century, almost two now, had been tumultuous, and her relationship with Lucien was constantly changing. She no longer felt as *close* as in those first few years, but she still enjoyed his agile mind and the conversations they shared, as well as their shared passion in the hunt. A large cockroach scurried across the floor and Janette, moving faster than human eyes could see, crushed it underneath the leather sole of her sandal. The remains were scraped off into the pan, something for the slaves to clean tomorrow. That momentary diversion over, she was left alone with her thoughts, and the guilty relief that Lucien had not shared her bed in over a decade. He was a dangerous man. It would not do for him to know that she was thinking...or dreaming of leaving him. Not until it was too late for him to do anything about it. Staring at the tapestries on the walls in the dark, enclosed room, Janette thought again about travelling back to Paris. This country might be stimulating for him, but she had barely spoken to anyone since she arrived. She was too strange to be accepted by the other women since she could only visit with them in the interior gardens at night, and "protected" by Lucien's presence, she was not approached by any of the men. It was so strange and unlike anything she had known in her brief mortal life, or the decades since. She missed the sounds, the animals, and the curses in languages she could readily understand. It all added together to make her feel strangely homesick and adrift. Most of all she missed the freedom to hunt at will with her only constraint being the necessity to dispose of the body. The thrill of the chase, and the hot blood that forever made her drunk with desire and delight. Janette carefully tied the edges of the white cloth so that only a thin wisp of flesh and her eyes showed. Lucien wanted her to practice passing unnoticed, tonight was as good a time as any. The walls of the corridor curved. She would never get used to that. It was made of a pale yellow material and was far smoother than the stone or wood buildings she was used to. Everything seemed to be either decorated with gold or cobalt paint, and intricate carvings were everywhere. It was only a few hours till dawn and Janette found it simple to avoid the guards. Lucien could not fault her actions there. A quick study he called her. In fact, she had learned almost all that Lucien was willing to teach her. A faint draft alerted her to an outside doorway, and Janette broke open the fastenings in order to step onto the small landing. She took the first deep breath in what felt like days. A prison, it felt like a prison in there. Arms wrapped tightly around herself, Janette took another breath and then let out a short laugh. Even the air was unfamiliar. Warm and scented with spices foreign to France. In the end, it was the unfamiliar scent of the air that firmed the plan Janette had been forming for days. She would tell Lucien she wanted to leave. Let them go back to Paris, or Vienna or even barbarous England for a while. She was tired of this land where she felt smothered with every step she took. If he did not wish to go with her, she would leave anyway. It must be different for him, with his friends, gatherings and meetings. It was probably different for women born into this life. At least they knew what to do and say, instead of always being afraid to move the wrong way or speak the wrong word. But...she did not want Lucien displeased with her. Old instincts went hand in hand with hard won knowledge of the man learned over decades. It was far better to have him amused than angry. The stone railing trembled and started to crumble under her fierce grip. Dust formed under her palms. What if he insisted she stay? The sound of the door opening would have been barely audible to a human, but Janette heard it clearly. Turning around, she faced an unfamiliar man, clad in rich garments and with jewelry threaded through his beard. "Who are you? This is a forbidden area. What are you doing here?" His voice was commanding; roughly demanding an answer. Janette's eyes took on a yellow tinge. It would not do to be "noticed", not here, and not now. Not if she wanted Lucien to be in a good mood when she talked to him about leaving. It was time to practice another of her new skills. After all, they worked so well in conjunction with those learned during her first life. <----------<< Janette placed her hand over his, rubbing his cool flesh, and circling the heavy ring in a centuries long habit. She glanced at her empty glass. "Of course I was not unhappy." Stepping away from his touch, she sighed. "I am not here asking for understanding for my actions last year, but I do need shelter." "Surely there are better choices," LaCroix said, sitting down. "Is there not now someone with a more recent claim to the responsibility...? Surely Nicholas...." "...Would be more than willing," Janette interjected. "The bond between Nicola and myself is weak. I wish to keep it that way. I'm hardly a fledgling who needs to be taught the ways of our kind. Besides, knowing him, he'd apologize for once again 'condemning' me to this life." A slight sad smile spread across her face. "I'm not sure I could stomach it." "You will always have a home with me, my dear," LaCroix said. "After all, you once sheltered me when *I* returned from the dead." Janette reached down, squeezing his hand once more. "This is only for a short while. Just until Aristotle and Larry Merlin can create new papers for my new life, and to clean up the scattered remains of the last one. Nicola does not have to know I'm here." LaCroix responded with a slight nod before turning to his microphone. Her hands familiarly gripped his shoulders as he reached out to the switch. Above their heads, the "On Air" sign suddenly glowed red. <> (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From Beth_Washington@AVID.COM Sat Jul 25 19:47:57 1998 Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 17:04:37 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (4/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (04/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #17 Episode Title: "Moments of Choice" "Air" Date: July 23, 1998 Author: Dawn Steele with help from Libby Singleton Part 4 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 1998 Dawn Steele and Elizabeth Ann Singleton ------------------------------------------------------ Cellucci entered into Stapleton's Toronto offices. They were decorated no differently than those of the law firms which populated the rest of the floor. Thick, dark gray carpet covered the floor. Behind the receptionist's large, antique desk, an immaculately dressed woman nodded to Cellucci. Her greeting to McCully was a warm appreciative smile. She motioned for them to enter the door she guarded with dedication. Those two dinners McCully had taken her out to must have sweetened her mood towards him, Cellucci though. He doubted that the woman even knew McCully was married. The man never bothered to wear his wedding ring, and pursued any attractive woman that crossed his path. They approached the man sitting at the desk. Cellucci realized that McCully had been right on more than one point. Their boss truly was getting on in years, and turning into an old man in more than name. One of the black Irish, his once glossy black hair was now almost completely gray and the bold blue eyes weren't quite as piercing as they used to be. They still conveyed his temper however, and an intelligence that had served him well in the dangerous and rough business of crime. Stapleton finished up the work on his computer and turned towards the two men as they approached his desk. The machine was one of the latest models, with a big twenty inch screen, and a handy paper shredder concealed beneath the desk. "What did you find out?" Stapleton's voice was deep and resonant in the otherwise quiet room. Out of habit, Cellucci stepped into a comfortable, almost military stance. The Old Man almost never asked his men to sit down; it was something that one just got used to or you moved on to another family. "It's definitely her, Mr. Stapleton. Janette DeBrabant." "I knew it!" A hand slammed down on the marble desktop. "Did you get her?" "No, sir." McCully's tone of voice was respectful. It always was in Stapleton's presence. "You said to get proof while she was out, and to handle this manner quietly. The men stationed outside the hotel should be able to pick her up...alive, and then you can talk to her in person." He paused and tapped his chest thoughtfully where the gun was hidden underneath. "If you want, we can go back there tonight and wait for her to get back. Make sure it's finished once and for all." McCully leaned casually against one of the wooden paneled walls. "My partner didn't mention how we got our 'proof' -- and it might cause trouble before we have a chance to get back there." "Bribable trouble or real trouble?" Stapleton snapped out. "Somewhere in the middle, sir." Cellucci felt the tension he'd been holding in since the boy's death relax slightly. This was better than going to confession. "We had to kill one of the hotel staff. He could have identified us. The possibility exists that the cops will find the body...and her before we can." "Don't you worry about *that*, Cellucci." Stapleton smiled, dentures sparkling. "I have my connections. No. Don't bother going back tonight. Now that we know it's her, I'll put more men on it right away. She won't be able to move a foot in this town that I don't know about it. If I need you for anything else, I'll let you know." Stapleton leaned across his desk and pressed the communication button to the secretary outside. "Joan -- Give Mr. McCully directions to the guest suite. He can stay there tonight." He released the button and turned to Cellucci. "I know you two just came into town today...you have family in town that you'd like to stay with if my memory's correct, right Cellucci?" "Your memory is never wrong, Mr. Stapleton." "Good. You can use Joan's phone to contact them while she's showing Mr. McCully to his suite." Conversation between the men fell silent as Joan came in and collected McCully. Cellucci doubted that she'd be leaving the guest suite for some hours yet. It was only when the two had passed through the glass doors that Cellucci started talking again. "What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Stapleton? You know I don't have any family left." "I don't trust McCully. He's slime, and I never should have let him get this far in the organization." Stapleton's eyes had gone cold, and he continued looking at the doors thoughtfully. "He's made quite a few friends...and enemies on his way up." "Yes, sir." Cellucci made sure his voice was noncommittal. A practical man, his loyalties towards the Old Man were strong but he was not suicidal. "News of your evening's work preceded you. Someone in the hotel already found the body, and notified the police. They're swarming over her room, and she hasn't been spotted by the men outside." He leaned back in his chair, causing the leather to creak. "If my organization can't find her, I'm going to have to ask for...assistance again. Even if she does run, my connection *will* find her. After giving me her location in New Orleans, he's now committed to finding her, and *dealing* with her as much as I am." "Yes, sir." "I trust you, Cellucci. Trust you to follow my orders and not screw up, but McCully only needs to know what's necessary to keep him in line. After we take care of her... I think Mr. McCully might have an unfortunate accident." Cellucci smiled. This night was ending on a high note. "Yes, sir. It would be my pleasure." (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From Beth_Washington@AVID.COM Sat Jul 25 19:48:06 1998 Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 17:04:46 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (5/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (05/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #17 Episode Title: "Moments of Choice" "Air" Date: July 23, 1998 Author: Dawn Steele with help from Libby Singleton Part 5 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 1998 Dawn Steele and Elizabeth Ann Singleton ------------------------------------------------------ Nick was staring at Janette's portrait. He'd been sitting on his wide leather couch for the past half hour, sipping blood and remembering the past. The first time he'd seen Janette, she'd been luminescent under the candlelight, standing out from his comrades and the noisy presence of the tavern occupants with nothing but a smile and a wave of her hand... Giggling like children as they celebrated night after reckless night on the town, and then the days spent hidden in each others arms as the sun traveled overhead. More recently... Janette explaining how she'd felt herself becoming more and more human every day until she couldn't feel the vampire anymore. The jealousy he had felt in that moment, and the fear of her leaving him forever. Dragging his eyes away from the portrait, he fastened them on the flickering flames in the fireplace. The fire, he also remembered the fire consuming the suburban house, and Janette pleading "no" to him as he watched her slip away. He hadn't been able to give her that gift, the gift of dying as a mortal, something he'd wanted for centuries. Why hadn't he given her that? He'd hovered over her protectively until he could be sure she was coming back, and then spent the rest of the night tying up loose ends in the case. When he got back to the loft, he'd discovered she'd left and LaCroix didn't know, or wouldn't tell him, where she was. Nick got up and started pacing across the room. His heightened senses registered the coolness of air over the concrete floor and then the slight increase in warmth over the wool rug. A greater change in warmth as he approached the fire. He hadn't been able to let Janette die in the flames. She was supposed to live forever -- to be beautiful, immortal and a tempter of foolish young men. He'd missed her presence when she was gone, but always knew they'd meet up again. Meet up to love, and laugh, and.... There had been flames that night in the loft with LaCroix as well. Nick could imagine a life without LaCroix in it, and had, after he worked through his guilt at staking him, felt more relieved than any other emotion in that year when he thought LaCroix was dead. Ever since LaCroix had returned, Nick's emotions had been through a roller coaster of turmoil that had just begun to settle down...before Janette showed up again. Taking one last step he reached the side table and poured himself another glass of blood. With all the blood he'd consumed already tonight, he didn't really need it, but he needed to be doing something while he waited...waited for Janette to call, or come to the loft, or until he could *feel* her close enough to track her down. He heard light footsteps downstairs, and then the rattle of the old elevator as it started up. When Nick concentrated, he made out Natalie's very human heartbeat. He didn't know if he should be disappointed, relieved, or guilty at the number of bottles he'd gone through that night. Natalie stepped through the elevator doors. Shoes clicking against the concrete as she walked towards him. It was nearing sunrise, and she must have been on her way home from work. Traces of the morgue clung to her clothes through scents of disinfectant, soap and old blood. It mingled with her perfume in a way that he had long since grown familiar with. "I thought I'd find you here." Natalie looked at the empty bottle on the coffee table and the half full one on the end table, and sighed in disappointment. "Do you want to tell me why you've turned off your answering machine and why *I'd* get a call from Reese asking me where you were? I take it the office gossip now has us back on a better relationship again?" When Nick continued staring at the fire, Natalie picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned the fire off. "I hate it when you do this to me. You know that." She sighed. "It's been months now, Nick. I thought you were starting to work with Adam better. What's wrong?" "It's not something I can talk to him about, Natalie." Nick inhaled the air, breathing in again the teasing blend of her body natural scent, the morgue and Obsession. She looked nice tonight. He should have told her that earlier. She was wearing one of her functional suits that let her pass through the media and crime scenes without drawing too much attention and yet were comfortable enough for her to usually get through the shift without resorting to the scrubs that she switched to when she had a long night at the morgue. "I think I should have booked the rest of the night off." That would have been the sensible, human thing to do instead of just dropping Adam off at the precinct and disappearing. "I think you should have, too." Natalie picked up the bottle of blood and he could see the small lines of tension around her eyes release when she saw it was his usual brand of cow blood instead than the specially labeled bottles of human blood that he kept for when LaCroix came for a visit. She didn't say anything about it, for which Nick felt glad, but also a bit frustrated at how she was still watching him so carefully. "What's wrong, Nick? Why are you hiding in here and shutting the rest of the world out?" "I'm not shutting the world out! I'm waiting." Nick picked up the bottle of blood and walked back into the kitchen area. He opened up the fridge door and shoved the bottle back amongst its brothers and sisters. He used too much force, and the door slammed shut, bouncing back open with enough momentum to rattle the bottles inside, and knock one over. "Am I going to have to pry it out of you?" Natalie took a hold of his sleeve and tugged -- hard. "Talk to me! I'm your friend. You're supposed to use me as a sounding board when you've got a problem." Her voice grew quieter. "You talk to me, and I can talk to you -- that's how it's supposed to work." "I was going to call you, or drop by, but...I just lost track of the time." Putting two fingers underneath her chin, he tilted it up so that he could look straight into her eyes. "I really *was* going to call you, Nat." "Yeah, right." She pushed against the gaping refrigerator door until the catch caught hold. Relieved at his words despite herself. "So what's with the disappearing act? Another ancient vampiric enemy sweeping through Toronto on a trail of vengeance?" "Janette is back." Natalie whistled softly. "She was the woman who rented the penthouse suite we were at last night." The words were a statement, not a question. Her face became very still; cautious and waiting. Nick could feel her upset and worry, trembling beneath the surface of outward calm. Nick remembered how little he'd told her of the events of Janette's last visit. They hadn't been working well together at the time. Both of them had had too much on their minds and sharing their problems wasn't something they were doing anymore. She hadn't reacted well to the news of Janette's mortality. After that night, Nick had told her that Janette was still alive, but nothing else. "How did you know it was her?" "I didn't at first. There was just the smell of her perfume, the style of clothes she prefers." Nick hesitated. "Nothing conclusive; I could have been imagining things. I wasn't sure it was Janette until I found the ring." He decided not to tell her of his "new" link with Janette. Natalie still denied the strength of the link between them, and was working hard to diminish it. There was no reason to.... "The ring that Adam sent to forensics?" "It was hers. I gave it to her about fifty years ago." He could almost feel the smoothness of the gold and see the resonating gleams of the sapphire and diamonds as he slipped it onto her finger. They had paled compared to the delight in her eyes. "She's really back? And...she's a vampire again?" The unspoken question of whether Nick had changed her back hung in the air uneasily. "Yes," Nick said, turning away. "I suspected as much. The puncture marks in those two dead men the night after she came back. Your silence and guilt about the entire affair afterwards." Natalie sighed deeply. Hand resting against the fridge door, she rubbed its smooth surface. "How do you feel about her coming back? What about that poor boy in the hotel?" "I don't know Natalie, I really don't know." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Why do you think I've locked myself in here?" He pointed at the night sky clearly visible through the opened shutters. "I've been waiting, or perhaps hiding for hours. Waiting for Janette to come here. With a dead man shot in her hotel room, she might be needing my help." His voice grew softer. "She might *want* my help." "It's looks as if you could be waiting for a long time." Natalie looked at the remote that she had held in her left hand throughout the entire conversation. A long moment passed before she starting speaking again. "Are you sure that it wasn't Janette that killed him? The last time she was in Toronto, she killed a man with a gun." "The last time Janette came to Toronto, she was mortal. She isn't now. Janette never used to hesitate about killing...." He rested his hand slightly above hers on the fridge door. This close, he could almost *see* the blood coursing through her... Suddenly, Nick felt in dire need of another drink. Natalie just stared at him. Nick couldn't tell what she was thinking, and didn't want to use their link to check. "Are you sure that she didn't kill him?" "No." Nick took the remote from Natalie's hand and put it on the top of the fridge. "I should contact Miklos or LaCroix. She might have contacted one of them." "Nick?" Natalie's brow wrinkled slightly. "Do you want some advice?" Nick sighed. "I suppose it couldn't hurt." "I think you should sleep, and then go to work tonight as usual. If Janette needs your help, she'll contact you. If she's the one who killed that boy, then you *have* to know." Her wide eyes stared at him. "And then you have to figure out just what you *need* to do." (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com.