From Beth_Washington@AVID.COM Sat Jul 25 19:49:05 1998 Date: Fri, 24 Jul 1998 14:05:24 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (6/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (06/14) 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 6 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 finished buttoning the cuff of his left sleeve as he slowly walked down the stairs. He was almost ready to start another night at work. The lights were dimmed, and the loft was shrouded in shadows. With the air of long familiarity, or someone who could see in the dark, Nick stepped across the living room and headed straight for the fridge. A bit of liquid "breakfast" to get him through the night, and he'd be ready to face Reese's fluster and Adam's anger. He shouldn't have left the shift early the night before, but it was too late for second thoughts now. Tonight he'd smooth the troubled waters, and start looking for Janette. Tipping the bottle up, he quickly drank down the mixture of cold cow blood and some of Natalie's latest protein drink. It wasn't satisfying -- but wasn't that the point? The phone rang just as he was putting the half-empty bottle back into the refrigerator. <<"Hi. I'm either in bed, or incommunicado. Leave a message at the beep.">> "Nick? It's your Captain here. Pick up the phone, or you're going to be spending a week on day shift doing traffic du..." Reese sounded like a prime candidate for a stroke. "Captain. I was just leaving for the precinct." Nick pressed the speaker phone button, and continued getting ready to leave. Picking up his gun harness, he slipped it on. "Good. We can talk about where you disappeared to last night," Reese sighed deeply. "Natalie Lambert tried to tell me some cock and bull story about family problems, but...." Nick interrupted him. "My... a close friend arrived in Toronto unexpectedly last night, and she's having some problems. I know I should have signed out." "Yes, you should have." Another sigh echoed through the loft. "If you didn't have such a good arrest record, you'd have been busted three Captains ago." "I'll be arriving at the precinct in a few minutes. You can grill me there if you still feel the need." Nick picked up his blue silk jacket and put it on. "Good -- you can start looking through the hotel videos." "Hasn't Adam started on them yet?" Reese's voice became slightly more jovial; slightly. "I told him to put them on your desk. He went out to interview people at the hotel again. Now get over here!" After Reese slammed down his end of the conversation, Nick pressed the disconnect button. He thought of the long night ahead of him trying to match up wedding guest descriptions against the often hazy images of security cameras. Still, there was the chance Janette could be on one of them. He'd have to check them. If he was lucky, he'd be able to pick the "best" image and it still would not be identifiable. Nick looked up. There was someone standing on the skylight. Someone... The walls of the room blurred as he flew up to the ceiling, unlatched the lock and pushed the window open. Hovering just above the opened skylight, Nick scanned the night around him, but saw nothing. It had been Janette -- he had *felt* her watching him. Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the air around him. Janette's perfume teased his senses for a moment before disappearing as its owner had done moments before. *** Adam stepped into the hotel lobby. He was alone -- as usual. Nick had disappeared two hours before the end of their last shift and he wasn't answering his phone. Despite all the progress they'd made over the last few months in learning how to work together, he sometimes doubted if they could ever make a really successful team. "I'm as bad as he is sometimes," he muttered underneath his breath. That case with the animal lovers, PAL, had proven that. Reese had yelled down both their backs for them to work together, both he and Nick faithfully promising it, and then he went haring off without Nick for backup. The only reason that Reese didn't actually file the reports that he kept threatening them with was their case records. It was one of the highest in the precinct despite everything they had against them. Nick would disappear and come back with the solution to the case, or Adam would go off and track down all the separate clues that would lead to the killer. Which was what Adam was doing that very minute -- tracking down clues. He stepped up to the registration desk, flashed his badge, and asked to see the hotel manager. Adam had been watching while he gave his statement the other night and he couldn't shake the feeling that the manager had been holding something back. And in a case with as few clues as this one had, that little *something* could be important. Adam waited patiently while the young woman behind the desk tracked the manager down. She looked slightly nervous and Adam automatically checked out her name tag; her name was Liz. Chit chat about working at hotels and the different customers she saw didn't reveal anything interesting. Maybe it was just the general nervousness some people got as they remembered flying down highway 401 doing one forty, or their unpaid parking tickets. Mr. Don Williams finally showed up after Adam had waited fifteen minutes. His thinning hair looked to have been freshly combed, and Adam smelled an overpowering aftershave. He hadn't noticed that the other night, and he wondered vaguely who the hotel manager had just left. "Good day, Mr. Williams." Adam held out his hand and waited until Williams took it for a limp handshake. It didn't look as if he was pleased to see him at all. "Detective Sakai." Williams glanced at the interested desk clerk. "Why don't we go to my office?" He pointed towards a stand of miniature trees across the lobby, and led Adam towards them. As they got closer, Adam made out a thick wooden door with a gold plaque bearing Williams' name. Inside, there was a large wooden desk almost bare of papers and an impressive stack of neat paperwork in what looked to be the "out" box. If this was the end of his shift, as Adam had planned, then he'd been busy all day. The plush carpet on the floor and expensive pictures on the walls finished off the vaguely Victorian decor of the room. This was one hotel manager who had a few perks of the job. Willams sat behind his desk and waved Adam towards one of the chairs on the other side. He had an authoritative air about him. Coming into this room, where he must be used to being in power, seemed to have had a calming effect on him. "Was there anything missing from my statement, Detective Sakai?" Reaching across the desk, Williams opened an inlaid box full of Cuban cigars. Picking one up, he sniffed it appreciatively. "Would you like one? My nephew brought them back from his trip there last spring." "No thanks, I've never liked the smell of cigars." Adam waited, and when Williams looked to be about to light up, he put himself into the power play that Williams had started. "I don't like the smoke either." He kept his face impassive and flipped open his notebook. Shifting in his seat, he made sure that his leather jacket gapped slightly to reveal his revolver. The hotel manager hesitated and then put the cigar back into the case. Round one went to Adam. "I'd like to clarify a detail. You told the first officers on the scene and the 911 operator that *you* had found the body, and yet when we talked to you later that night you admitted that it had been one of the kitchen staff -- a," Adam checked his notebook, "Helena Garcia." Williams eyes flickered around the room, looking at first one picture and then another, before finally settling to a place just over Adam's shoulder. "I went over that in my statement. She was in shock over seeing the body." He shrugged slightly. "I didn't want her to feel pressured by the situation, so I left her in my suite." "You left her in your suite?" Adam repeated. "Yes," a small tic started beating underneath Williams' right eye. "She should have confirmed all this when you took her statement." Adam looked around the expensively furnished room, and thought of the impressions he'd received from Williams from the moment they met. The hesitation in his eyes whenever he looked at Adam, the way the desk clerk had been nervous, and then how her manner had switched to almost gleeful curiosity, the subservient manner of Helena Garcia when they'd taken her statement, and how very *careful* she'd been over every word as if her life... or her job depended on it. It all added up in Adam's mental notebook of a man who had found his niche in life and who enjoyed being the big fish in his very own small pond. Williams probably abused the staff as much as he could get away with. Adam didn't know what the manager was hiding, but he intended to find out. "You could have left her in one of the empty rooms, or this office, or even with the other staff member." His pen started to tap rhythmically against the bare edge of the wooden desk. "I just find that strange." "It was an emergency, Detective. I made a decision that I later regretted." Williams fingers rubbed the edge of the desk in a counterpoint to Adam's pen. "There's no mystery in all this." It was time to take another tack. "You tell me that you never actually saw the woman who rented the room? According to the login time at the registration desk, the chauffeur had picked up the key barely two hours before the body was found. If she killed him, she had to have come in during your shift." That wasn't strange in itself. Most hotel managers wouldn't see a fraction of the guests who booked in unless they were VIP's. "Her company booked the room, and the bill was taken care of by the chauffeur, who also picked up the key card." Williams opened the box of cigars and caught himself a moment before pulling one out. "A bit strange but nothing illegal." Adam saw the reflexive gesture towards the cigar box. Smoking was so often used to soothe jangled nerves, and the hotel manager didn't seem like a strong nicotine addict; no smell of smoke on his clothes, and his teeth didn't have a yellow tinge. "You also said in your statement that you couldn't identify the chauffeur." "I wasn't at the desk!" Adam stared at him silently. Had he touched a nerve? Something closer to the real reason Williams had been nervous since the very beginning? "You were still working around the time that she checked in. Where were you?" Wetting his thumb with the tip of his tongue, Adam flipped the pages of his notebook to a fresh page. "I... I was in my office." Williams was now staring nervously into Adam's eyes. "I was in my office doing some paperwork." Adam normally trusted his instincts. A good judge of character, he could often figure out when people were lying to him, which Williams was, and when he'd be able to break it out of them. In this office instead of the police station, and with the attitude that Williams currently had, he didn't have the ammo he needed. For a moment he wished he was as good at interrogating people as Columbo. Maybe it would come with time. After all, he'd only been in the police business for a few years. Pushing back his chair, he stood up and closed his notebook. He hadn't written more than a few random squiggles. Maybe he could get more out of the other staff members. "Thank you for being so... cooperative, Mr. Williams." He paused and used the moment to tuck the notebook into an inside pocket. Adam held out of his hand and noted the almost impolite pause before the man took it. Right now his gut was screaming at him that if Adam hadn't been a cop, he wouldn't have gotten two steps into this office. "Do you mind if I ask your employees, in particular Helena Garcia, a few questions?" "No. Of course not." The tone was anything but enthusiastic. "As long as you keep it to a reasonable length of time. This is a busy hotel, and we need our employees working." Adam could feel Williams' eyes on him all the way to the door. The desk clerk revealed what Adam had already figured out. Williams was good at his job, had a tendency to brown nose to important clients, and... treated his social *inferiors* at a level slightly above cockroaches. Anyone he disapproved of, or felt they didn't act according to their station, were either fired, or forced into quitting. So why did he let Helena Garcia, a Hispanic cleaning lady, stay in his room while he checked out the body and told the police a lie just to save her feelings? It just didn't jibe. (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 19:49:11 1998 Date: Fri, 24 Jul 1998 14:05:32 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (7/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (07/14) 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 7 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 ------------------------------------------------------ <> After pulling up in front of the Raven, or what remained of it, Nick turned off first the radio, then the Caddy's ignition. He knew Miklos was attempting to rebuild, if only to offer a haven to the vampires of Toronto. Still, the building seemed nothing more than a burned out shell, boarded up against looters. Only those in the 'know' would realize the basement was still inhabited by denizens of the night. The thought of finding Janette at her original Toronto home had been a long shot. Not surprisingly, Nick couldn't sense her anywhere in the vicinity. Their link was very weak, but as long as he concentrated, he could feel her presence in the city even if he was having difficulty pinpointing it. Although he knew she could very well have simply stepped out, from the way LaCroix had been rambling about families, he decided she had sought shelter from him. Even if she had been staying with Miklos, Nick doubted the vampire would have told him where she was. The idea of Janette going to LaCroix instead of him caused him to tighten his grip on the steering wheel. That act had been dangerous. There was no telling how LaCroix would react. Even *he* did not know LaCroix' feelings about Janette's brief return to mortality. Although LaCroix had expressed a sense of loss concerning Janette, all he'd ever mentioned was approval of Nick giving in to his "true nature" and bringing Janette back across. The taste of Janette's mortal blood had been wonderful. His strongest impressions from it had been of the boy Patrick, and of the caring presence of the man she had loved, Robert. What would he find if he tasted her blood now? Hatred or disgust? Would she ever *let* him make love to her again after what he had done to her? "I have loved you for so long -- even when I hated you for siding with LaCroix." He confessed his feelings to the unjudging night air. "I cannot imagine a world where you do not exist. My lover, my friend, my sister..." Except Janette was no longer his "sister", and the bond between them was more incestuous than ever. If they made love now, the experience would be different. He had brought her across; she was *his* fledgling... not LaCroix'. Natalie would probably be in the morgue by now. These thoughts... they were a betrayal of what they might have, and what they were slowly regaining. He knew Natalie had probably been jealous and hurt when Janette had revealed her affair with a mortal, and the consummation of that love. How could she not be? He had felt those feelings so strongly. How would she feel about Nick's new relationship with Janette? Nick started the car with every intention of going to CERK, to LaCroix -- and to confront Janette if she was there. As usual, he was sure his master knew more than he was openly admitting. Sighing, he turned the radio back on. <<...So go back to your families, back to the life which should, in all truth, be yours...>> "No." He couldn't do it now, not with his feelings in mass confusion. LaCroix would use them to tear him apart. Nick pulled into a convenience store parking lot, and turned the Caddy around. Sooner or later he'd have to confront Janette, and most likely LaCroix. The meeting was inevitable. But now was not the time. If he could prove to himself that Janette hadn't killed that man in the hotel, perhaps things would be simpler. He steered the Caddy in the direction of the precinct. *** With a groan of breaking metal, the window latch snapped off and Janette dropped through the open window. Falling to the floor, she slowed down just before touching, and landed without a sound. Her thick black hair was now tied at the back in an elegant coiffeur; its businesslike sleekness matched well with the slim black pantsuit she wore. Leather boots clicked softly against the concrete floor as she moved around, familiarizing herself with the loft again. She paused near the couch before flipping on the small table lamp. Its light created a soft haven that contrasted sharply with the rest of the dark room. She trailed her hand against the piano keys, and a range of notes spilled into the air. Reaching the end, she flipped down the cover, and muffled the still vibrating strings. Everything looked the same. The room, the paintings, the furniture -- Nick hadn't bothered to change a thing. A few things were rearranged, but... why weren't things different? How could she feel so different on the inside when everything around her appeared unchanged? Janette paced over the wool rug and towards a small recessed cupboard. Her face betrayed no emotion when she slowly opened the doors to reveal her own face. A painting of her captured forever in time by Leonardo during a time when she and Nick had been exuberantly happy together. Her fingers traced the small smile fixed for eternity on the canvas. Fingernails stiffening until they resembled talons, she pressed them against the painting. It was only cloth and oils. A moments work to finish forever! The only sound in the loft was a small moan she unconsciously released. Janette closed her eyes, and moved her hand away from the painting. Destroying it would do *nothing* to hurt Nicola, and would tarnish one of the few happy periods in her long life. It wouldn't really change anything. Janette's hands shook slightly as she closed the doors again, and turned the latch. As she hurried across the room towards the still open window, she started to pull on a pair of leather gloves from her pocket in order to complete her outdoor ensemble. Passing a side table that was moved from where she remembered it, she knocked against it accidentally. A small box tumbled through the air, before spilling its contents onto the rug. "Merde!" The small cross looked innocent enough with it's twine bindings and wooden pegs, but Janette found her eyes stinging with tears and she couldn't look at it directly. Memories of going into the church with Patrick for Robert's funeral passed through her head, and left a torent of feeling in its place. She had dipped her hand in the holy water at the entrance, and sat in the church holding Patrick's small hand for comfort. She had done that and felt something she had thought lost during her childhood. Suddenly furious at her weakness, she picked up the cross. Smoke curled into the air, and Janette could feel the flesh beneath the leather gloves start to burn. She grasped it more fiercely, and twisted with both hands. Satisfaction painted her face as the pieces of the cross fell to the floor again. Meaningless broken bits that had no power to hurt her. Another moment, and the loft was empty. *** Nick wrapped his hand around the doorknob to the morgue and then hesitated. He could hear Natalie's voice inside, but she must have been dictating because hers was also the only heartbeat he could hear. From what he could make out, she was just finishing up with an autopsy -- usually a good time to interrupt. Slipping quietly through the door, he waited to see if Natalie could sense he was there. She was wearing standard hospital scrubs, and a white smock that had several bloody splatters along the front. Her long curly hair was tied back with one of her scrunchies into a ragged bun. As she finished dictating, she put the machine back down on the table. Nick waited a few seconds more and then said, "Good evening." Natalie jumped, and whipped around to face him, a scalpel gripped tightly in her hand. "Nick! Don't do that!" He shrugged. "Consider it progress. I couldn't have stood there for... " He ostentatiously checked his watch. "thirty-five seconds without you noticing me two months ago." "That was then, this is now." Natalie waved the scalpel in the air to emphasize her point. "And now when you enter my morgue, I expect a polite knock." "Fine." Natalie put the scalpel into a container of what was probably bleach and water, dropped her gloves into the hazardous waste container, and pushed aside a pile of papers so she could sit on the top of her desk. "What's the matter, Nick?" Nick sighed, and pulled a small bundle wrapped in a silk handkerchief from his pocket. Silently, he handed it to her. "Janette visited the loft earlier tonight. I found this on the floor when I stopped by a few minutes ago." Puzzled, Natalie unwrapped the bundle and started when a couple of pieces of wood fell out. She put them back on the silk and then put it on her desk. "Nick... tell me this isn't what I think it is." "Joan's cross. The one she gave me in the name of faith just before she died." He could still remember those moments. The sight of her burning, the flames licking her skin, her voice pleading him to hold it up so she could see it, and how his hands had burned even after he had wrapped them in layers of cloth before attempting to hold it. "I can touch it now. Bits of broken wood and twine." His voice was even, and controlled. He forced it to be. "I always kept it in the box; hidden away so that I could know it was there, but still protect myself from its power at the same time. All these centuries, through all my lives, I kept it safe." "Nick...." "How could she do this to me, Nat? She *knew* what it meant to me!" Swinging around, he hit the tile-covered wall with his fist. Broken chips flew off onto the floor. "Oh, Nick. I'm so sorry." Natalie picked up one of the pieces of wood. It looked as through some of the sections had been crushed. "I... I don't think you'll be able to glue it together." "You mean fix it so it never happened? No, I can't." Nick ran a hand through his hair. "Why, Nat? Tell me why. Give me a *reason* so I won't want to throttle her when I catch her. I don't *want* to hate her." "I can't help you, Nick. You're going to have to ask her yourself." Nick gave a bitter laugh. "She's staying with LaCroix. I can't talk to her with him in the room. Alone, with one or the other, but together it just brings back too many memories, and LaCroix would love to ridicule my anger over the cross...." "Nick?" Natalie hesitated, and then continued on. "At least I can set your mind at ease on one matter." Natalie picked up a file folder from her desk and handed it to him. "Janette didn't kill the Hughes boy." She leaned against her desk, crossed her arms, and watched him flipping through the various papers and pictures. With a calm even tone, Natalie started to tick off points on her fingers. "Point one, the bullet entered the brain and traveled on a slight downward trajectory to the impact fractures on the other side. Unless Janette was hovering in the air, she's too short. Point two, I was able to pick up two soft tissue partials from the back of the deceased's neck. From what I know of vampire physiology, the minimal content of skin oils should have made that almost impossible. Point three...." "Point three?" "Well, from what I remember of Janette, she would never have destroyed her own clothes." Nick closed his eyes and replayed the hotel room in his mind. The perfume in the air, the gleam of gold on the floor, the feel of ripped cloth... "Not if she had just bought them: their receipts were in the room." "Right." "So she didn't kill him." Nick turned it over in his mind. He'd doubted it from the first, but there had always been that niggling voice that reminded him of the last three bodies Janette had created while in Toronto -- the first one killed by a gun. "Thanks, Nat. At least that's something." "I'm sorry I can't help you more." Natalie took back the file from Nick's hand and put it back onto her messy desk. "You've helped," he said. Strangely enough, it had. "What did she say when you talked to her at LaCroix'?" She walked over to the dispenser, pulled out another pair of latex gloves, and slipped them on. "I haven't seen her yet," he admitted. "Maybe it's time I did." Nick turned to leave. "Nick?" Natalie's voice was soft, but it was enough to pull Nick back away from the door and to face her again. "Janette and I have never been...", she hesitated, as if uncertain of just what term to use, "friends, but she has looked out for me on occasion. If there's anything I can do... I'd like to know if she's in any trouble." "That's just what I'm going to find 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 19:49:20 1998 Date: Fri, 24 Jul 1998 14:05:39 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (8/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (08/14) 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 8 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 ------------------------------------------------------ The dart flew straight through the air and hit the middle of the picture taped on top of the dartboard. Cellucci smiled and then casually threw both of the remaining darts in his hand. Each dart went into an eye. As he went up to collect them, he noticed how ragged the picture attached to the board was getting. Holes pierced its surface and almost obscured the likeness of one "Janette DeBrabant", the woman they were seeking. "Remind me never to play with you again." McCully slumped back into the recliner and took another drink of his scotch. Faint circles were under his eyes, and his usually dapper appearance was ruined by the wrinkles in his suit jacket and a loosened tie. "Don't play with me again." Cellucci moved back to the legal throwing distance and prepared to throw another set. Dressed in a loose black t-shirt and khaki pants, he gave the impression of a mobster from some B-flick in the 80's. "Thanks." "You shouldn't have another drink. That's your third, and we might be called out tonight," Cellucci said. McCully stared at him angrily and then tossed down the rest of his drink. "If I have to spend another night stuck in this blasted hotel with *you* waiting for little Miss Muffet to show up -- then I think I deserve to have the satisfaction of getting rip-roaring drunk! If the police get the information she has, a lot of our friends could be very, very uncomfortable." He grinned smugly. "Maybe even you, or Old Man Stapleton himself!" Cellucci threw his first dart. It sank deeply into the cork board. He had to calm McCully down before he did something stupid. "Stapleton thinks it's better if the rest of the local operation doesn't know we're around. He's worked out a deal with the big man in town to help catch her. You should know him, a really old guy, must be in his nineties, goes by Constantine." He threw the second dart. "All we have to do is wait until Constantine tells us where she is, or she finally shows up here, and then we kill her -- simple." "Constantine... I met him a couple of years ago. He looked ready to pop off and leave the whole operation to his great-grandson." McCully wandered over to the bar. Cellucci looked at him thoughtfully, but McCully was at least walking easily with no outward appearance of his drunken state. "We'll kill her. Assuming she hasn't left town of course." "She hasn't left town." "How do you know that?" McCully snapped back. Cellucci smiled slowly. This night was getting better and better every minute. Never a very patient man, McCully was feeling the lack of enjoyments such as his usual clubs and receptive women like Stapleton's secretary, Jane. McCully's mask was slipping, and Cellucci started to extrapolate the scenarios of the evening. He might even get the chance to smudge McCully's reputation, or arrange for him to have an "accident". "Apparently Constantine knows where she is." "The Old Man told you that?" McCully poured himself another shot of the aged scotch, his face wrinkling in annoyance. "If they know where she is...." "Apparently she's staying with someone Constantine doesn't wish to anger. We have to kill her without letting that someone know he was involved." "How do you know all this? And why didn't you tell me about this before?" Instead of getting the darts he'd thrown, Cellucci picked up McCully's discarded set and continued throwing. He ignored McCully's first question, and instead answered the second. "Because you'd have reacted just the way you're doing now. All we have to do is be patient, and wait for our opportunity." He threw another dart, and it slipped in to nest among the closely packed darts already there. He was patient. He'd get his chance -- with both Ms. DeBrabant... and McCully. *** Adam arrived back to the hotel a half-hour before Helena Garcia went off shift, and then caught her just after she left the building. He didn't think he could get a straight answer out of her while they were in the same building as the local dictator. "Miss Garcia? Could I ask you a few questions about the other night?" Adam made sure to hold up his badge and remain underneath the street light without moving any closer to her. The last thing he needed was for her to mistake him for a mugger. While he'd watched her statement being taken, he'd been behind the one-way glass, and she'd never seen him. "I'm Detective Sakai with Homicide. I'd like to talk to you about the body you found." After a bit of hemming and hawing, Adam talked her into going to one of the doughnut shops down the street that had just opened up for the early morning traffic. Coffee and conversation instead of a trip to the police station. He had also found himself promising not to keep her long -- it turned out that *Miss* Garcia, was *Mrs.* Garcia and had three children waiting for her at home for her to make them breakfast before they left for school. They were in luck, and a Second Cup shop had just opened for the day. Better coffee and higher prices. Adam ordered a large coffee and paid for Mrs. Garcia's decaf. "You were bare on the details in your statement. Would you like to expand on anything now that you've had a bit of time to think about it?" Adam broke off a piece of oatmeal cake and popped it into his mouth. "No. No, I really don't think I should." Mrs. Garcia stared into her coffee. Adam let the conversation fall silent for a minute. There was always the chance that she'd continue on her own, but apparently not tonight. "Why did you go to Mr. Williams instead of calling the police yourself?" "The hotel -- it is Mr. Williams'. He takes care of it. If there is trouble, we supposed to take it to him." The creases at the corners of her eyes looked deep, and Adam wondered how much of the grey streaking her otherwise black hair was due to Williams rather than her children. "You say you were going into the room to clean it, but when I talked to the staff earlier, they said that most of the rooms are cleaned between two and four in the afternoon. The night cleaning staff is used more in the public areas, in the kitchen or on call for emergencies. Why were you going to be cleaning the suite at eleven o'clock that night?" "I say in my report to the police. The cleaners in the day forget to check off whether room clean or not. Mr. Williams send me there to make sure it clean before the new person comes." Adam felt a thrill of exhilaration. This might be the point that Adam was trying to break. In a hotel the size of the Renaissance, all the cleaning should go on without the supervision of the hotel manager. It was only when something went wrong that he would be called in to trouble shoot. The cleaning staff would never forget to clean an expensive suite like the one the body had been found in. At over a thousand dollars a night, there was a good chance that the occupants would leave a twenty or more tip for housekeeping. They would never leave it until after check- in time. "When you were sent to clean the room, the chauffeur had already picked up the keycard for the room. Just when did Mr. Williams send you there?" "He... He send me just before I find the body." Adam saw her check her watch. A reflexive motion that didn't help her pin down the time for the night of the murder at all. "There must be mistake. I do not remember exactly." This was it; he had her. Adam could feel it. Columbo, and the mighty Detective Nick Knight could go and jump off the nearest televised cliff. "Are you sure that it was Mr. Williams who sent you to clean the room?" Adam made a show of checking his notebook again. The page he flipped to was blank, but she didn't know that. "Mr. Williams shift ended almost an hour before the body was found. Why did he send you?" "He is working overtime?" "I don't think Mr. Williams was working overtime." "I..." "I don't think Mr. Williams sent you to that room." Mrs. Garcia was well on her way to demolishing her small paper cup. "I don't think you found the body." When she didn't respond to that last statement, Adam continued on. "Do you want to tell me why you lied to the police?" Mrs. Garcia grimaced. She didn't want to talk, but probably relished the thought of another trip to the police station even less. Adam wasn't about to tell her that there would be another trip to the station for another statement if she changed her story. "Mr. Williams, he... he tell me to tell the police that I found the body if they asked. He say it not really matter and that otherwise he will have another talk with Mr. Henries about the day shift. I can not work days! My children, they go to school and I have to be there when they get back! My husband, he work all day. He can not be there." "Why do you think Mr. Williams told you to say you found the body?" She shrugged. The gesture seemed to embody amusement and resignation all at the same time. "He probably fooling around with one of the lady guests again, think the penthouse empty, and get surprised." Adam felt a stab of disappointment go through his stomach. Would all of tonight be to track down the fact that Don Williams enjoyed using the hotel rooms to conduct affairs? He hoped that his disappointment didn't show on his face. "Do you think that Mr. Williams was sleeping with the lady in the penthouse suite?" "Her? Not her. She would not touch him -- I know these things." The disappointment changed to elation. "You saw her? Talked to her?" "No. Saw her talk to little Hughie. He supposed to let some people into her room to drop off stuff. He tell me to watch for them come in and he give me part of the money." "Why didn't you mention this in your statement: The fact that you had seen her before." She shrugged again. "They never ask. We not tell the desk about deliveries so we no share tips." "Do you think you could describe the woman?" This was what Nick must feel like. The man had the most amazing luck for things falling in his lap. "I go to the police station again?" "I think you have to go to the police station again." Mrs. Garcia sighed in resignation. "I must phone my husband." The sun was well over the horizon by the time Adam set up the appointment with the sketch artist, but he didn't mind the overtime at all. (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 19:49:26 1998 Date: Fri, 24 Jul 1998 14:05:46 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (9/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (09/14) 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 9 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 ------------------------------------------------------ The meeting was inevitable. Janette knew it in the depths of the soul LaCroix insisted she didn't have. Had known it the minute she stepped off the plane. What she hadn't imagined was that it would occur in LaCroix' home with him acting as a very amused host. Nicola had let himself inside without even the pretense of knocking, and LaCroix had further ushered him in with a smile. LaCroix now stood there without a word. He was probably waiting for Nicola to sense her presence. To discover just how strong the link was between them. Strong enough, she decided, as he immediately turned to the door where she stood. "Nicola, I thought you might come here," Janette said. She wondered if he had found the cross. "We need to talk," Nicholas murmured. No doubt he felt the same thing radiating from Janette as did LaCroix -- anger tinged with fear and perhaps a bit of nervousness. Janette felt her emotions flicker out and mirror back with the loss of concentration, and then she regained control. The impressions dampened, until she could now only sense their familiar presences. "No doubt you do," LaCroix agreed. "But should we not first celebrate our little family reunion?" He moved to his wine cabinet, removing a bottle and two glasses before hesitating over the third. "Nicholas still insists on his unnatural diet. I am glad, Janette, you have not altered your dining habits to satisfy some ridiculous notion of reform." "Janette, I thought..." Nicholas' voice was full of puzzlement and regret. Janette took her glass, and watched as the one held out to Nicholas was ignored. "I have never liked... cow," Janette stated. Better to set the record straight from the beginning. "I see *no* reason to make myself suffer over moral qualms I do not have -- not over a bit of stolen blood." Nicola's stance tensed, his next words harsh, and accusing. "The body in your hotel room.... Are you going to explain it? Is this another mess I'm going to have to clean up?" Janette was incensed! How very like Nicola to try and control their confrontation using mortal boundaries instead of facing up to what was truly bothering him. "Mess?" Janette snapped back. >>------------> 1218 AD, A remote castle in Persia "Forget me. I was never here." Janette slid her hands up his arms. A touch of flesh against silk to break his concentration. That usually worked. She would dazzle his memories, and then she would disappear into the night. "Never here?" Dark brown eyes became puzzled, and then amused. "I would not soon forget one such as you. By your tongue, you betray yourself a foreigner." His hand slipped across her shoulders and then ran possessively down the front of her blue silk gown. "Did you come from the barracks? Were you hired for the night?" She shifted uncomfortably. This was not working right. Perhaps she wasn't pronouncing the words correctly. "Forget me!" The flicker of yellow in her eyes became a fire that tried to consume him. It should have worked. It would have worked... if his attention had been anywhere near her eyes instead of slipping possessively down her body along with his hands. "How much do you want?" Janette forced down the unpleasant memories that his words had invoked. She did not have to hear them. Not anymore. It was one thing to use the desires men had for her body in the hunt, and another to be lewdly assessed without her permission. She took a hold on his hand and brought it up to her lips. His palm felt strange through the cloth barrier, but his eyes were now focussed on hers. A tingle of heat down her spine and then she felt her fangs, hidden behind the mask, descend. His body took on a warm glow that pulsed with every heartbeat. She was hungry, and he was her rightful prey. The man smiled and tore off the veil to cover her mouth with his own. His palms were slightly damp and they slid against the silk of her tunic before taking a firm grip. With a smothered smile of vicious delight, Janette gave her hunger free reign. He was dead in less than a minute -- she savored every second. This was how it should be. The hot blood in her mouth and his mind filling hers to bursting. The whole world took on a rosy tinge and swam before her eyes. As always, she felt as if she had consumed a tankard of good ale along with the blood. His memories flowed through her mind like the best of wines: fighting, the blood of his enemies, sending a man to his death for refusing his wishes, and the sight of his men before him awaiting his orders. She felt strong enough to smash mountains. Janette made her decision. If LaCroix did not let her leave... she would pack her bags and depart anyway. He had nothing left to teach her, and she was strong enough now not to need his protection. It was a delightful moment -- too delicious to last. When Janette's eyes changed back from gold to blue, and the world solidified around her, LaCroix was standing in front of her. He looked very, *very* unhappy. "This! Do you know who this man is? You have just put both of us in a great deal of danger!" <--------<< Janette watched LaCroix take another sip of his drink, and settle into his favorite chair to watch the spectacle unfold. He seemed to be enjoying the fact that *this* confrontation was spinning out where he could be a witness. "A mess -- just like the last time you were in Toronto," Nicholas replied back with equal force. "A body in a hotel room...." His forehead wrinkled, making him look as puzzled as a child. "I know you didn't do the killing... *this* time. Yet..." he glanced at LaCroix accusingly, "I bet you at least know what the hell is going on!" He turned back to Janette. "With what happened in Montreal, I would have thought you would change; might be willing to admit that killing mortals is...." "Nicola!" Janette cried out angrily. She paused, her eyes squeezing shut as she regained control. When she opened them again, her body relaxed outwardly. Reaching out, she took one of Nicholas' hands in her own. He started to step back, but her grip tightened noticeably until he was forced to stop. "Does this, my touch, feel different? Does the bond we share?" "Yes." The word was not so much spoken, as sighed. "Then you know that I *have* changed!" Janette declared. "I was mortal and in love the last time we met. It was a time so very different from my first mortal life." She stepped closer to Nicholas, peering into his eyes. "That love was taken from me ruthlessly by men I feel *no* guilt about killing. As I told you, the last of the vampire fled my being after I justifiably took revenge. I was human and was intending to stay that way to care for Patrick -- the child I never thought I could have. Her eyes glared into his and her voice roughened with emotion. "Then... then you stole my mortality from me, the very thing you allegedly prize and seek above all else! You changed me back to a state of being I thought gone forever!" Janette flexed her regained strength, and watched as Nicholas was flung backwards and against the wall. A picture of the sunset over Roman ruins fell as the wall shook, the frame splintering when it hit the floor. Nicola reached out to the end table and pushed himself up unsteadily. "I... I couldn't bear to lose you. Don't you see?" He spoke with surprising control. There was only the barest hint of despair in his tone to clue Janette into what she knew he must be feeling. He raised his hand to rub the back of his head, and grimaced with pain at either his head or his wounded psyche. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I couldn't let you go." "So you *forced* me to stay, hmmm?" Each word was distinctly separated. "I can't thank you enough, Detective Nick Knight: defender of all mortals! The problem was that *I* did not need, nor want, saving!" "My, my," LaCroix interjected calmly. "This entire scene is giving an entire new meaning to 'sibling rivalry.'" Nicola turned toward him, gesturing with one hand. "*He* brought you across first. I never heard you complain to *him* about that." "But LaCroix did save me from an unbearable situation, Nicola. He gave me a life, revenge, wonder and riches of which I hadn't dared dream," Janette said. "And Robert gifted me with pure, unquestioning, unjudging love that forgave the past and made me dream of a future. You, Nicola, oh, you have only *taken* from me!" When Nicholas opened his mouth to argue, Janette rushed forward, placing two fingers against his lips forcefully. "Don't deny it. You come to me, taking my love and passion only when *you* deem fit. Then, with your constant prattling on about mortality and goodness, you took my self confidence, the *coldness* from my heart that I had never dreamed of giving up. Then, selfishly, you take *me*!" "I saved your life!" Grabbing her wrist, Nicholas yanked her arm away from his face. "You would be dead now If I hadn't changed you back! Did you want to die?" "You took *my* life for yourself!" Pulling her hand from his grasp, Janette slapped him hard enough to leave a red imprint on his cheek. "I've come to see that I've been merely existing for a very long time, but now I want to *live*, Nicola, I want to *live*." She spun toward LaCroix, but was looking through him, not at him. "The sun is up. I grow weary." Janette walked past LaCroix, and into the hallway. She paused just out of sight, closed her eyes and listened as the two men she knew best continued their eternal argument without her. "Live as a vampire, or a mortal? Which does she mean? Don't you wonder, Nicholas?" "I must talk with her: go to her." Nicola was upset. Janette could tell. What she couldn't understand at the moment was whether she *cared*. "Let her go," LaCroix ordered. "There are other questions I need answered," Nicholas growled. "There's been a murder. Janette knows something. I need to talk to her alone." "Your mortal pretend-life can wait until this evening," LaCroix said evenly, his tone almost soothing. "*Our* Janette, and I believe that term is more appropriate than ever, may have a 1000 years of vampire knowledge, and even some of the abilities and strength, but in other ways she is very much a newborn, as it were. She tires easily once the sun has risen. Perhaps she will be more willing to play along with your games after she rests." LaCroix chuckled softly. "I am tempted to say this is like old times, only I don't remember ever having been so amused by the two of you." Janette leaned against the wall, and felt her connection to Nicola tighten as he tested the bond between them. She couldn't allow him to know what she felt. Wouldn't let him. "Who is her master now, you or I?" he asked LaCroix. There was silence in the other room. LaCroix had chosen not to answer. "You know the sofa is most comfortable." Janette stumbled further down the hall. Her body demanded rest, and the sun outside was a heavy weight. She barely heard their final words. "Nicholas...." "Yes?" "Pleasant dreams." (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 19:49:31 1998 Date: Fri, 24 Jul 1998 14:05:54 -0400 From: Beth Washington To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (10/14) Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1998 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Moments of Choice (10/14) 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 10 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 ------------------------------------------------------ Adam carefully typed in the last key for his search into the computer. The database system was still relatively new, but he'd been assured that it was already out of date. At any rate, it started working away for correlations between the description he'd typed in and recent cases involving "mob activity". It was a long shot, but he'd fired worse and gotten results. He looked over to Nick's empty desk. Adam wasn't surprised at his absence -- it was at least a half-hour before their shift was supposed to start. What did surprise him was that it looked almost exactly the same as two days ago when they'd been talking before the call came in for the murder at the hotel. The only difference was a file on his desk made up of screen shots of people that the hotel staff and the new bridegroom hadn't been able to identify. They'd been missing each other throughout the last two shifts. First Nick "taking care of some important business" and disappearing the night of the murder, and last night they'd apparently both been working on different leads. "Here I am, the boy wonder of the precinct, and I don't even know where my partner is." Adam looked around to see if anyone had noticed him talking to himself... or rather talking to the computer. Maybe it was time to speak with Reese about a transfer or switching partners? He was never going to learn more about teamwork stuck with the "Loose Cannon". The other detectives assured him that Schanke and Vetter had fared no better but that wasn't any consolation. Plus, he'd be able to see Kelly more often if he fanangled a switch to the day shift. But Reese had been in a rotten mood the last few days for no reason that Adam could figure out -- at least no reason more than usual. Suddenly the computer beeped, and spit out a list of recent unsolved cases. Adam started flipping through them... stopping abruptly when a black and white image appeared on the screen. A "Suspect Still At Large", and wanted for a murder that happened over a year ago. Adam moved the mouse arrow over the names of the investigating officers: Detectives Knight and Vetter. Copying down the case file number from the screen, he pulled it out of Nick's filing cabinet. Another murder in a hotel room, with the victim being a member of the Montreal mob. The details in the case file were sketchy, with most being in Detective Vetter's careful handwriting. He stared at the last sentence in disbelief. 'Suspect thought to die in the fire set on 145 Willow Street. Presence confirmed there during the fire by Detective Knight, but no body was found.' He flipped through the file. It was scanty, even for one of Nick's. Coming to the original sketch of the woman, he compared it to the woman Mrs. Garcia described. The features matched as much as two different police sketches could. Reaching over to Nick's desk, he picked up the file of screen shots and began flipping through them. They were fuzzy and out-of-focus. Near the end he came to two pictures of a slight woman walking through the lobby. Her head had been circled in red, and there were big question marks besides them. He lay the pictures down beside the sketches. It was hard to say for sure, but they seemed a good match. He had found her. Adam stared at the printouts of Janette DeBrabant, then again at the new sketch as he dialed Nick's cell phone number. Another earlier call to Nick's home had gone unanswered, and so did this one. The cell phone continued to ring until a mechanical female voice announced, "Your party is not available to...." "Sakai!" Reese shouted from his office door. "I want to see you." "Just a moment, Captain," Adam replied, beginning to punch in the morgue's phone number. "I'm trying to...." "Now, Sakai!" Adam felt his cheeks grow hot, knowing that from the sudden near silence in the precinct that every pair of eyes were staring at him. He slammed the receiver back in place, and headed toward the Captain's office. Fighting the temptation to run, he defiantly kept his pace slow and even. No one dared to comment as he passed their desk. "You wanted to see me?" Adam asked. He shut the door behind him softly, then, not waiting for Reese's invitation, he casually took a seat. "Not precisely," Reese said, staring Adam straight in the eyes. "What I'd really like to see is the final Smithers report! Didn't you say it'd be on my desk last week? The new commissioner has been phoning me about it for the last two days now, and I'm sick and tired of it." "Knight said...." "I don't care what he said," Reese interjected. "I assigned that report to you. Where is it?" "And then Nick volunteered to do it when my fiancee insisted I take a few days off for my overdue vacation," Adam explained with forced evenness. "That may be, and I can sympathize. I've had to take my share of nights off to be with my daughter. It's tough; I'm the first to admit. At least I keep up with the paperwork," Reese snapped. If he truly did sympathize, it wasn't apparent in his tone. "However the Smither's report was ultimately assigned to you, and is your responsibility. I want it on my desk before you leave tonight." "I..." Adam stopped himself. He wouldn't complain about Nick's behavior without confronting the guilty party himself first. It wouldn't be right. "You're right. I should have made sure he handed it in. Right now I'm more interested in a new lead on the hotel kill...." "I'm not talking about that case right now, I'm talking about the Smithers report!" Reese slammed a fist down on his table and then started massaging his neck. "Paperwork may be one of the devil's creations, but we're stuck with it and part of my job is to make sure every 'i' is dotted, and 't' crossed. Do you understand?" "But I've got these leads and I need to...." "Tonight, Sakai." Reese sat down in his chair. "I need it tonight." "Yes, sir. I'll start working from my notes. It will be on your desk before I leave." Adam stood, not daring to risk another glance at his Captain. Despite efforts not to, he slammed the office door on his way out, vibrating the adjacent walls. "In a bit of trouble, Sakai?" a uniformed officer said as he passed. Adam chose to ignore him and everyone else as he made his way back to his desk. He glanced down at the two sketches, then moved to Nick's desk to see how much, if any, of the report was actually written. He opened his partner's file drawer and thumbed through the files until he found the one marked 'Smither'. "Damn you, Nick Knight!" he muttered under his breath when he opened it. The report was finished, Nick just hadn't turned it in. Making a beeline for Reese's office, he knocked and then walked inside without waiting for an answer. "Here it is, sir. The report you wanted." "I..." Reese sighed. "Close the door behind you and sit down." Staring carefully at the pictures behind Reese's desk, Adam face was still and waiting. Reese started massaging his neck again. "I shouldn't have blown up like that." "If you say so, sir." Reese chuckled. "I suppose I deserved that." He opened the Smithers report and started flipping through the contents. "It's not you... it's not even Knight's fault. entirely. Do you know how frustrating it is to have him listen to what you say, and then cheerfully go his own way?" "Yes." Adam grinned. "Now that you bring it up, sir. I've been thinking a lot, and with my wedding coming up, a day shift would really...." "Knight can't work during the day. Medical exemption." Reese flipped the report closed and looked at Adam thoughtfully. "Are you asking for a change of partners? Still not getting along with him?" "No! I mean yes. I mean," Adam stopped speaking and sorted himself out. "We're getting along better now, but sometimes...," he shrugged meaningfully. "Tell you what. You just think about it for a couple more weeks. If you find you're serious about it, come back and see me." He crumpled up his empty paper coffee cup and tossed it into the wastebasket. "I don't want to break up a partnership that's bringing results." Adam stood up to leave. He had some thinking to do, and some leads to track down -- with or without Nick Knight's help. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com.