Date: Wed, 9 Apr 1997 23:25:59 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (01/12) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Alpha Readers: blitherer2@aol.com, Julia Kocich , John T. Folden , Patrick McLaughlin , Leslie GrantSmith Beta Readers: Sara Orel, Jean Simon, Stephanie Babbitt Historical Consultant: Sara Orel, Elizabeth Ann Lewis Continuity: Amanda Sridasome, Nancy Production Management: Amy Volpert, Dawn Steele Part 1 of 12 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 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST Adam Sakai trudged up the staircase to the fourth floor. Reese kept harping on the fact that he was supposed to be learning to be a team player, but how was that supposed to happen when his partner kept disappearing on him? One minute Nick would be at a crime scene; the next, he'd be gone with no explanation. What kind of a partner was that? Exactly the same kind of partner used to be. He found himself starting to sympathize with Stevie John and Ho Tran, his most recent partners at the sixty-eighth precinct. Ho Tran had ditched him after three months. At least Stevie had stuck with him for a year, but now that he looked back, it wouldn't have lasted much longer even if he hadn't been transferred. A "hot shot," that's what they'd called him. A "loner." Knight was something of a loner, too. Then again, Knight'd had two partners shot out from under him. Maybe he had a right to be skittish about trusting somebody else to ride shotgun. Maybe he didn't think Adam could cut it. Maybe Knight could take Kelly hunting and Adam could stay at home and watch her cats. Maybe he should keep his mind on the case. By the third floor, he'd started reviewing what the landlady had told him--Coates had an apartment by himself, came and went at all hours like the other students, wasn't any trouble, kept the place clean. After extracting her phone number in case they needed any more information and turning down her offer of coffee and cake, he'd headed for the stairs for a quick look around the exterior of Coates' apartment. Until the search warrant came through, which could be any minute, it was better to limit himself to a perimeter check. There were twelve apartments on the fourth floor. Adam came out of the stairwell slowly; his gun remained in his holster, but he unzipped his jacket and had his hand in place, just in case. He glanced around the corner of the stairwell, down the hall in the direction of Coates' apartment, then froze. There was someone standing at Coates' door. Pulling back for a moment, Adam checked his weapon again, then took another look down the hall. The man was vaguely familiar, at least five foot eleven, wearing a Bluejays jacket and jeans, and there was a strap over his shoulder. The hair was dark, straggly and long. The visitor was writing something on a message board on the door. Knowing that he could easily pass for a college student himself, Adam decided to take the chance. He backed down a few steps and came up the stairwell noisily, then cruised into the hall. Coates' visitor was still writing on the board, but looked up as he approached. Adam inclined his head toward the apartment door. "Vinney around?" "Haven't seen him since yesterday." The student looked at Adam intently. "You're one of the police from the station last night. Right?" This was one of the kids Winkler had brought in and questioned--Adam recognized him as soon as he opened his mouth, the guttural accent giving him away. "Nalvayko?" he said, as if guessing. "Alex Nalvayko? You're right, we didn't meet last night. But we appreciate you coming down to the station. Saved us a lot of time." "Yes. I guess...maybe it did." The kid nodded, but relaxed when Adam held out his hand. He shook it, then took a step back, shoulders slumping slightly. "The guard who was killed--none of us would have done it. We want to save the animals. To spill more blood would be...stupid." "Now that's how I see it," agreed Adam with a grin. Then he shook his head and let the grin fade. "But my partner doesn't see it that way. I've been telling him it was probably some kind of accident. Someone got scared, something happened...." Nalvayko shrugged again, but that was his only response. Obviously, he wasn't playing. Or he'd taken the attorney's words to heart. Giving up on that avenue, Adam moved toward the door and glanced at the message board. "So, you're a friend of Vinney's? How long have you known him?" "Since the start of the school year. I live below-- downstairs, the next floor," said Nalvayko, as if correcting himself. "Oh, yeah? What's your major?" "Photography. Fine Arts." Adam tensed as Nalvayko reached around, but his hands held nothing more dangerous than a camera--that's what was attached to the strap. "Vinney has some of the pictures I took. I need them for a class." "Yeah. Well, we'd like to have a talk with Vinney, too." "About the murder?" Then Nalvayko smiled, an embarrassed grin. "Of about the murder. And about us. PAR." Adam leaned back against the door frame and nodded. "We don't have a lot of information on PAR--it looks like it's a pretty new group. How many members do you guys have?" "On paper, there are a lot. People who come to meetings--" he hesitated, then shrugged again. "Maybe twelve, maybe less." "But the ten of you from last night, you guys are the activists, right? You guys don't want to wait until the hotshots from PAR get around to doing something." Adam nodded, as if he understood. "That's how those groups work, isn't it? They sign you up, they take your money, then they don't want to do anything." "It's true. That's why we did...that's why we broke into that club." Nalvayko straightened proudly for a moment, and Adam upped his height estimate by an inch--the kid was . "If we have to pay for that, okay. But we had to do ." "The ten of you make the decisions, then?" "Vinney makes the decisions." It was Nalvayko's turn to gesture toward the door. "Amy and Ted back him up. Vinney trusts Ted, even though Vinney knows he's a gangster." Adam forced his expression to remain neutral. "Ted used to run with a gang? Or he still does?" Again, the semi-impassive shrug. "Don't know." Nalvayko glanced up and down the hall, as if realizing how open the area was. Adam got the distinct impression that the kid thought he'd said too much. "I've gotta go. Class." Adam paced him for a few feet. "Do you know where we can find Vinney?" Nalvayko stopped and Adam almost walked past him. For a moment their eyes met, and Adam saw something very deep and frightened in the student. "No," he answered, then Nalvayko headed off for the staircase at a run. Adam started after him, but stopped at the top of the staircase and listened to the thunder of Nalvayko's footsteps on the stairs as he raced downward. The kid's story made sense. Coming from his background, Adam had been lucky Nalvayko had spoken to him at all--he could only imagine what it might have been like growing up in a place like Russia during the last two decades. He walked back to Coates' apartment door to copy the messages that had been left on the board for the missing student. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Wed, 9 Apr 1997 23:26:03 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (02/12) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Part 2 of 12 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST Natalie was beginning to hate the smell of plastic bags--they'd gone through most of their immediate supply last night, and she'd had to send for an extra carton from storage. Everywhere she turned, there were specimen and evidence bags, trolleys of them. First the bags had been sorted by suspect; now they were being sorted by content. Standing before one of the trolleys, she had a good mind to roll it out into the hall and push it down the stairs. It wouldn't solve anything, of course. She'd only have to pick up all the bags again. But the possibility that it just make her feel a little bit better made it all the more tempting. Then she turned and nearly collided with LaCroix. "Aaah!" Clutching her hand to her chest and backing up a step, she glared at him. "I thought I told you not to do that anymore!" "My apologies." Dressed all in black, he was like a living shadow, a contrast to the blues and greens and whites that made up the colors of the lab. He held out a flower for her, a white lily. "Accepted. Go back where you came from." She turned her back to him out of sheer bravado, her heart still pounding in her chest, her adrenaline pumping. Picking up a bag from one trolley and moving it to another, she added, "I've got a lot of work to do, so if you've come to 'chat,' maybe we can do it some other time?" "Has Nicholas ever talked about...hunting?" Natalie froze where she stood, her fingers gripping a bag that contained a pair of blood-spattered winter gloves. She looked up and found that LaCroix had moved to the other side of the trolley. An eyebrow arched in question, he waited for her reply. Somehow, she forced her fingers to unbend and set the bag on the trolley beside her--this pair of gloves had come back negative for human blood, which was yet another suspect off the hook for the night watchman's murder. The fact that they were narrowing the field should have pleased her. It didn't. Her gaze drifted to LaCroix again and she softly answered, "No." "I'm not surprised. We are, as you yourself have noted, predators. We hunt. We kill. The experience is a part of our existence, essential to our survival." Natalie swallowed. "But...you don't 'hunt' anymore." LaCroix's lips quirked into an expression of wan amusement. "Not as we once did, no." He shifted his weight, resting his hip along the side of the trolley, his gaze fixed on the door at the far end of the lab. "It's too dangerous to hunt openly. The lines of communication are growing tighter, strangling our community. People, even the vagrants and transients, are missed far more quickly. Surveillance cameras are everywhere. Movements are tracked through electronic commerce, information shared through commercial channels and law enforcement at the speed of light." He frowned and glanced at her again with hard, steel-gray eyes. "We don't 'hunt' anymore." Some part of her found the topic fascinating, another part--if truth be told--found fascinating. Natalie picked up another evidence bag, then dropped it, giving up the pretense of working. She took a step around the trolley, so that she stood on the same side as LaCroix, facing him. "The technology that tracks and traps you has also provided alternate methods of feeding; bottled animal and human blood, preservatives, refrigeration, dehydration--" "Substitutes, but barely adequate. We can subsist on them, survive on them, but not . They're pale, paltry imitations." He met her gaze, then looked away again. "Nicholas has tried to explain to you about the blood? The taste, the memories?" It was Natalie's turn to look away. The time in the lab, when Nick had spoken about drinking blood, what the fresh blood contained--his voice had been honest and yet compelling, passionate, his description so stirring it had almost been...erotic. "Ah," said LaCroix slowly, drawing out the expression in a whisper of sound. "I see that he has." He was beside her, moving between the spacing of her heartbeats, his hand on her shoulder, the light touch of his breath on her neck. "Freshly-killed blood enlivens us, brings us thoughts, impulses, memories. The hunt invigorates us, and the blood, the taint of terror within it, completes us. It drives us, fulfills us. It makes us whole. It makes eternity bearable." Suddenly, the spell seemed to be broken. Realizing that LaCroix was so close to her, Natalie broke easily from his hold and stepped away, putting the weight of the trolley between them again. LaCroix gave no indication that he'd noticed her movement. He met her eyes across the length of the trolley. "Your substitutes do make our existence any more bearable. Nor do they satisfy the instincts and skills inherent within us. We're made to function as predators, predators...there's nothing to replace that instinct, nothing to dampen the internal imperative to hunt and feed at will. We adapted, but not completely." He folded his arms and smiled sharply. "I doubt we ever shall." "Nick doesn't hunt--" "Nor does he . He survives, yes. He , but only exists. Imagine what your world would be like if drained of color, of taste, of sound. is the world in which Nicholas exists--not an exact simile perhaps, but close enough to the experience of our kind." LaCroix made a dismissive gesture with a hand. "Over time, a vampire may learn to feed without killing, but it requires concentration, discipline...neither of which Nicholas has ever completely mastered. He refuses to kill and refuses to drink human blood--abiding some misguided remnants of a mortal conscience he claims to possess." "Nick's...different," said Natalie, after a pause. "I understand that. It can't be easy for him to give up the blood." "It isn't," agreed LaCroix. "Most of our kind are not that dedicated to self-sacrifice. They sustain themselves on bottled mortal blood, a pastel palette at best. If they must enliven themselves, the Code dictates that hunting must be infrequent and under such circumstances that no living mortal may discover our existence." Natalie found herself swallowing again. Nick's comment about looking for drained bodies and fang marks was suddenly beginning to make sense. "Someone's started hunting on a regular basis?" "A bright pupil." LaCroix gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. "A pity I didn't encounter you before Nicholas. You would have been an admirable addition to our family." "Let's just accept that I have no intention of becoming blood relation and cut to the chase, okay?" "What an excellent euphemism. All right, doctor--the 'chase,' as you put it, is that a young and highly charismatic vampire has decided that it's time we were allowed to hunt freely." Folding his arms again, LaCroix turned away, his lips pursed in annoyance. "However much I may tend to agree with certain points of his argument, discretion is currently the most intelligent form of valor. We survive unmolested because mortals, present company excepted, cannot bring themselves to believe that we exist. If that equation changes, there will be wholesale slaughter on both sides before this thing ends." "What's his name?" Nick wouldn't have answered the question--he would have bolted for the door and left her in the dark, concerned for her 'safety.' She didn't really the information; she just wanted to see if LaCroix would give it to her. Not that LaCroix wouldn't have his own reasons for not telling her. LaCroix seemed to have reasons for everything he did. She was only slightly surprised when he smiled and said, "Ian Sandler." The name wasn't in the least familiar. Natalie shook her head. "It means nothing to me." "It should mean than nothing to either of us. He's an aberration, an accident, a bully with a glib tongue and a head filled with ideas that have never been tempered into practical application by common sense. If he had any at all, he'd realize there's far more challenge in obeying the Code--there's an art to hunting and not getting caught." LaCroix shook his head, as if not understanding how such a thing could have happened. "If left to his own devices, Sandler will have blood flowing in the streets. By the time the Enforcers attend to the matter, their cure will most certainly be worse than the disease." "Somebody has to stop him." "That my initial intention. Unfortunately, Nicholas believes that the perfect choice." LaCroix held out his hand and began to tick off his reasons by bending his fingers as he spoke. "He lives within the mortal world and pretends to be a mortal, he subsists on a diet of animal blood, he refuses to kill, he preaches cooperation with mortals, and he has a certain...fascination--" he at least had the good grace to smile, "--with a select few. Sandler has made inquiries about Nicholas--his past, his habits and predilections. He's made a point of setting up Nicholas as his adversary before the vampire community." "Nick doesn't care about that." "He should. Unless you plan on 'curing' him by tomorrow evening?" When she refused to look away, LaCroix smiled again. "He is a vampire, Dr. Lambert. Despite your worst efforts to the contrary, he's going to continue to be a vampire for a very long time. Think of how difficult his future existence will be if he's treated with disdain as an outcast, a traitor, lower than a carouche, not even worthy of pity. Then there's that wonderfully Middle- Aged sense of honor that he wears like rusty armor, hopelessly tarnished, useless but too dear to discard. This isn't to say that I think Nicholas is wrong in choosing to fight Sandler--he has the benefit of age, experience, and training as a fighter. If Nicholas were in prime condition, Sandler would have no chance against him." "But he's not in prime condition." "He drinks the blood of ," said LaCroix, his voice dripping with disdain. "He's weak. Even if Sandler managed to enrage him to his fullest fury, I doubt Nicholas could hold his own, unless..." The word hung on the air for several seconds. LaCroix met her eyes, and Natalie felt a shiver run through her. "Unless...?" she echoed softly. "Nicholas drinks human blood. It doesn't have to be fresh," LaCroix added quickly, "but the fresher, the better. Only human blood will give him the strength he'll need to defeat Sandler. And he does need to Sandler, because there won't be any mercy given from that quarter. A stalemate will not be acceptable. If Nicholas isn't strong enough to win, he'll be beaten, humiliated...and then " "Nick knows this?" "I've told him." Natalie allowed herself a small smile. "He won't listen to you." "When has he ever?" As LaCroix mirrored her smile and focused his attention on her, she found herself shivering. "But he will listen to my dear Dr. Lambert." Natalie turned her back to him and clasped her hands together tightly. "Don't be too sure about that. Things haven't exactly been smooth sailing between us, lately." "If he won't listen, you'll have to him listen. The consequence of failure is...too drastic for either of us to contemplate." She wondered if he was listening to her heartbeat, which felt like a pile driver in her chest. No matter what had happened between them, she still hoped to help fulfill Nick's dream of bringing him back across...if that's what he wanted. Lately, she hadn't been so sure. He'd vowed to her that he wasn't going to touch human blood again, but since that night she'd seen him and known almost instantly by the color in his cheeks, the swagger in his step, the in him--LaCroix must be right about the blood, because she could see the very unsubtle changes in Nick when he fell off the wagon. Human blood might not be the sole component of his vampiric nature, but it was a substantial part of the puzzle. It was also an addictive drug, a comfort food, a cause of guilt--so much more than simple sustenance. He survive on animal blood; he'd proven that. But LaCroix seemed convinced Nick couldn't defeat Ian Sandler unless he drank human blood. "I'll try," she whispered, half to herself. LaCroix was suddenly beside her again, his hand on her arm, his eyes hard and angry. "You ." "I said I'll !" Breaking out of his grasp, Natalie glared at him. "I won't lie to you. We both know what Nick can be like. I'll ...but I can't promise anything." "Then let's hope your 'trying' will be enough." LaCroix's glare softened and he stepped back. "I'll take my leave--as you said, you have your work cut out for you." With almost military precision, he turned and headed for the door. Natalie's heart was still beating a mile a minute, and her mouth was dry. Taking a deep breath, she called, "Would you...?" LaCroix took his time, turning slowly on his heel. "Would I...?" he asked. "Would you mind answering a question?" "That would depend on the question." He folded his arms, his smile almost indulgent. "Ask." It was his arrogance that annoyed her, as if he were giving her a gift by answering a simple question-- Maybe he was. "Do you... hunt?" she asked. LaCroix's smile never wavered. And then he was gone. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Wed, 9 Apr 1997 23:26:10 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (03/12) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Part 3 of 12 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST On his way to his desk, Nick was stopped halfway across the bullpen by Reese's bellow-- "Knight?" The call had come from the captain's office, and Nick leaned casually on the door jamb, hoping that he wouldn't be delayed too long. It had taken more than a bottle and a half of cow's blood to clear up most of his visible bruises, and Adam would have had to be blind not to miss the condition of his clothing. He'd stopped by the loft for a change of clothing, hoping to run in and check his desk for messages, then run out again and meet Adam. No such luck. Alfred Winkler was sitting in a chair in front of Reese's desk, looking creased and polished and spit-shined to perfection. Slightly buzzed by the extra blood, Nick fantasized about vamping out, picking up the man, slamming him against the wall, and showing him what a blood-sucker looked like...but he managed to fight down the temptation. LaCroix had been right--the instincts of the vampire were too near to the surface. That's why Sandler was such a threat; a little temptation from a half-baked vampire-messiah and there be blood in the streets, not all of it mortal. Reese frowned and looked around Nick. "Where's your partner?" "Double-checking Coates' place. He thought he might find something." Giving a disdainful glance at the PAR attorney, he asked, "What's up?" "Mr. Winkler has torn himself away from his media blitz--" "Two afternoon talk-shows, a radio interview, and the six o'clock news," supplied Winkler, when Nick raised an eyebrow. "To stop by to give us a piece of information--he's lost Ted Cittadino." "The one with the Juvie record?" Nick stepped into the office, then sat down on Reese's desk, facing the lawyer. "When was the last time you saw him?" "This morning, when we left the station," explained Winkler. "I told all of them to check in with me at noon--" "Just in case somebody wanted the 'younger generation's' view of the case," explained Reese. Winkler didn't even blink, but met Nick's gaze squarely. "I heard from everyone except Cittadino. And Vincent Coates, of course." "Of course," said Nick. He refused to look away, staring Winkler down. "And you tell us if you'd seen Mr. Coates, wouldn't you, Mr. Winkler?" The attorney clasped his hands together, then brought them up to his lips for a moment as he regarded Nick and Reese in turn. "No matter what you may think of me, gentlemen, I dedicated to the cause PAR represents. We don't want to prevent hunting, just acts of cruelty, over-hunting, and inhumanity. Vincent Coates is the leader of a local PAR chapter, but he's also a murder suspect. The last thing I'd want to do is jeopardize a nationwide campaign for animal rights to protect a possible murderer." "Which is why you've been dropping your card in the lap of every reporter in this city?" asked Reese. He picked up several of Winkler's cards from the desk. "Let's face it, Mr. Winkler, until this happened, I didn't even know PAR existed. Bad publicity turning out to be better than no publicity at all?" Winkler half-smiled, then leaned confidently back in his chair. "That's the way the world works, Captain--you know that. People start to pay attention when there's a death involved; attention means money, and money's what we need to support the cause. France's attack on 'The Rainbow Warrior' did more to aid Greenpeace than a hundred benefit concerts and flyers condemning the slaughter of whales." Nick moved to Winkler, grabbed the arms of the chair, and leaned over the man. "And you're trying to tell us that you wouldn't be tempted to hide Vincent Coates from us? The longer this stays hot, the more free publicity PAR rakes in." Winkler's eyes widened, as if in surprise. "But that would be--let's see--withholding information regarding a murder investigation, as well as a felony, wouldn't it, Detective? As an attorney, I'd caution my client against committing any indictable offense, no matter how much free publicity was involved." "Lay off, Nick," said Reese wearily. "The man's only doing his job." "Thank you, Captain," said Winkler, as Nick drew back and seated himself on the edge of the desk again. "Even if it stink to high heaven," added Reese, meeting Nick's gaze. "I want you to add an APB on Cittadino and put Coates on as a priority. Have we got Cittadino's Juvie files yet?" "Not yet--" There was a simultaneous, "Not yet, Captain," from the doorway. Adam gave Nick a hard glance, then nodded toward Reese. "Figured I'd take care of that next. I've been out at Coates' apartment--nobody's seen him, and the stake-out teams are nodding off out of boredom. There were a couple of notes left on his door--some of 'em look pretty old--but no leads. One of the other PAR kids showed up looking for Coates--Nalvayko?" "Alex Nalvayko," supplied Winkler. Adam cast a curious glance down at the attorney, then looked toward Reese again. "Yeah--he's a fine arts student, left some photos with Coates and needs them for some sort of class project." "I think that will be all, Mr. Winkler," said Reese, giving both Nick and Adam a 'move and you're dead' look. He rose from his chair and walked around the desk, escorting Winkler out into the bullpen. "I know that if you hear from either Cittadino or Coates, you'll...." Once Reese was out of earshot, Adam dropped into the chair Winkler had vacated, propped his feet up on Reese's desk, and glared at Nick. "I hope you were planning on swinging by to pick me up before the shift ended." "I was on my way," said Nick defensively. "Next thing I know, the Captain calls me in here, and we're putting the screws on Wink--" Reese entered the office door, pausing only to brush Adam's feet from his desk. "Too bad torture went out with the Inquisition--thumbscrews might not be such a bad idea. I don't like that guy; I don't like him one bit." "He knows more than he's admitting," said Nick. He gestured toward Adam. "Amy Lo and her roommate said that the PAR group was supposed to meet back at Coates' place after the 'job.' Instead of Coates, Winkler showed up. Sounds like he was pretty well informed for somebody who just flew in from the home office." Reese leaned forward, expression hungry. "Do we know exactly Mr. Winkler arrived in Toronto?" "We will in a little while," said Adam, grinning. He rose from his chair, but Reese waved him back down. "You--sit!" Reese glanced at Nick, then back at Adam. "You and Nick were supposed to be out right?" "Uh, Captain, we together--" began Nick. Reese nodded and gestured with his hand. "And--?" "And...I had a feeling about Coates' place. Just a hunch. So I took off." Adam shrugged and leaned forward, avoiding Nick's gaze. "It didn't pan out. All I found was Nalvayko. He seemed nervous, but if I was a foreign student from an ex-communist country and the local police were sniffing around me...hell, I'd be at home with the door locked and my head under the covers." "Okay. Hunches I can understand. But next time you get your partner. You see him?" He pointed to Nick. "Remember that face--that's your partner. You keep him with you through rain, snow, sleet, and hail. And if you absolutely, positively to split up, you know where you can find that ugly mug at all times. You got that?" "Got it, Captain," said Adam, attempting to look properly chastened. "Then get out of here, both of you. Go detect something. That's what you get paid for. I'll see if I can shake some trees over at the Juvenile Records division-- we'll see if Cittadino falls out. And close the door on your way out." "Thanks, Captain," said Nick, gesturing Adam out ahead of him, then closing the door carefully behind the pair of them. He paused for a moment, watching Adam return to his desk, then approached his partner. "Adam--thanks." "For what?" "For covering for me." Nick seated himself on the side edge of his own desk and stared down at the floor. "You're right. I should have picked you up. I knew I was going to be late; I should have called--" "Like Reese said, we're partners." Adam wadded up a report form and then threw it at him--Nick caught it. "You owe me a couple of loonies for the subway." "We're both going to be a couple of loonies if we don't find Coates...and soon," noted Nick, looking up at the closed door of Reese's office. "You want to do me a favor, though?" "Anything." Nick grinned. "Except cat-sit. I've been through that one." "Stop ditching me at crime-scenes." Adam tilted his chair back and met Nick's gaze. "I'm not the best partner in the world--" "You're not the worst, either." "--and I know I've got a rep as a hot-shot, but I want a chance at this partner thing. I've never had it work before, you know. Maybe...maybe it's not a bad idea, knowing there's somebody out there who'll watch your back for you." His serious expression dissolved into a nervous smile. "Sounds dumb, doesn't it? Would you believe I rehearsed that all the way down Yonge?" Nick tossed the paper back at him and moved around to his own desk. "That's not far." "You're right. I should have gone up to Bloor and come back down again." Tossing the paper in the trash can, Adam sighed. "Maybe I'm in the wrong line of work. When I was a kid, I thought TV cops were best. 'Adam 12,' 'The Rookies,' 'Kojak--'" "?" asked Nick, not catching the name. "'Kojak,'" repeated Adam. Then, when Nick stared at him blankly, he added, "You know-- 'Who loves ya baby?' Telly Savalas. 'jak.'" Nick shrugged. "Doesn't ring a bell." "It doesn't matter." Adam leaned forward. "The point is, they caught the bad guys every time. There was a crime, they picked up the clues, they figured out who they were looking for, and then they hunted down the bad guys." With a sigh, Adam leaned back in his chair. "Maybe it's not just hunting animals, maybe it's hunting people, too. Maybe I'm no good at this job." "Maybe you should stop thinking so much and try hustling the Crown Attorney for that warrant to Coates' place." When Adam made a face and reached for the phone, Nick grinned. "Adam, if you weren't any good at this, you'd know by now. And I promise, the next crime-scene we're at, I'll be your Siamese twin." Adam groaned, then started dialing. "Thanks, Nick, but no thanks. a mental picture I could do without." (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Wed, 9 Apr 1997 23:26:15 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (04/12) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Part 4 of 12 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST Stepping out of the elevator and finding Natalie waiting for him in the loft was the second-to-last thing Nick expected that evening. The thing he would have expected was the plastic bags of blood sitting on his dining table. Natalie was standing behind the table, her expression concerned and perhaps a little guilty. He met her eyes, holding her gaze as he walked toward the table. One hand gesturing toward the plastic bags and the brown paper shopping bag that sat beside them, he was on the verge of asking...when Natalie held up her hand. "Not yet," she said. He felt her eyes on him even as he reached the table and picked up one of the blood-filled bags. "Let's get business out of the way, first. We've gotten some results back from Forensics on your PAR suspects." The blood in the bags was human; he could almost smell it through the plastic as he lifted the bag to look at it. Very carefully, Nick placed it back on the table and walked past it, needing to turn his back on the bounty and what it implied. "What kind of 'results?'" Natalie was standing just behind him; he could feel the heat from her body, could hear her blood calling to him...if he listened. "We've absolutely identified two distinct sets of footprints beneath and around Sturges' body. It looks like my guess was right--he followed or chased somebody in that room, got caught in the trap, and then was clubbed from behind while he was bent over." Nick raised his fist to his mouth and rubbed it against his lips, taking refuge in logical, deductive police work, where one and one still made two...usually. "That means we can't get a height estimate for the killer. Force of the blows?" "Heavy and brutal." As he turned, he found Natalie standing a few feet away from him. "How brutal?" Nick began to move past her, then caught sight of the blood. He retreated to the windows, which were open to the last vestiges of the night. "I'd categorize them as vicious. I'm surprised the trophy didn't break. Sturges was dead before the third blow--the second crushed the back of his skull. He must have started to fall--" "But the killer kept on hitting him. I'm guessing we still don't have a match on any of the nine PAR members?" Natalie was standing to one side of the couch, her hand leaning on the leather--he heard it give slightly. "Nothing. The sneakers, gloves, jackets, and pants are covered with blood, but it's pig's blood. There's not a trace of human blood on any of them. Of course, after we search Vincent Coates' apartment this morning...?" "That would be nice. But it still leaves us one killer short. Ten vandals, and nine of them cleared. We've got a probable suspect and a murderer, or an accomplice, who wasn't part of the group. Right now, that's the day shift's problem." Shaking his head, Nick turned back to face her. "That's it for business?" Natalie nodded, eyes shadowed. The guilty look returned as she glanced back over her shoulder, toward the blood storage bags. "LaCroix stopped by the lab tonight." "When?" Nick asked, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended. "Just before end of shift." He tried to figure the timing in his mind--it would have been after the brawl in the Raven. "And?" "He told me about Sandler. He said vampires might start hunting again." Natalie looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "Is it true? Is that why you asked me if anything 'odd' had turned up at the morgue?" "Yes, it's true. Sandler and his friends have already started. I could smell it on them." Closing his eyes, Nick lowered his head slightly. "Don't worry--I'll stop them before it spreads to the others. Sandler's the problem." "LaCroix said that you won't be able to stop Sandler." He opened his eyes and looked up at her, hearing the slightest tremor in her voice. She was trying so hard not to show how afraid she was, but it was useless. She afraid. Of LaCroix? Of ? him? He felt his heart beat, hopeful at that thought. "And what do you think?" he asked. "I don't know what to think anymore." She walked up to him, close, but not quite touching him, her wide eyes searching his. "When I ask you for answers, for information, you won't give it to me, and even when you do, it's in pieces. I to trust you, Nick." "But you trust LaCroix?" "No, I don't trust him--not completely." She hesitated before answering, biting her lip, then walking away from him, toward the windows. "He answers my questions. Yes, he's got his own agenda, but that's something I can count on. I know whatever he does, he does for his own reasons-- it has nothing to do with me." Nick walked up behind her, placed his hands on her upper arms and rubbed them lightly. She shivered at his initial touch, and then relaxed. "Be careful with him, Nat. Be very, very careful. He's capable of--" "Anything?" she suggested, then chuckled beneath her breath. "Yes, I suppose he is, if it has to do with you." Turning in his arms, she looked up at him, her lips curved into a faint smile. "I never thought I'd ever have anything in common with LaCroix, but I do--we both care about you." For an instant he drew her close to him, rested his chin on her shoulder, and simply held her. Nick hoped that her affection for him was her only connection to LaCroix. He knew all too well what LaCroix's interest could mean to a mortal soul. ### The few tracks he'd found had disappeared in the undergrowth, traces of blood growing scarce as they wandered through the dark jungle. There was a mutual understanding among them--none spoke aloud, but they followed one another through gestures and hand signals somehow readily understood. The bond was one of survival and, at least in the case of Virginia Lawson, the thrill of the hunt. Nicholas had only to glance at her to see her excitement--her cheeks were flushed, and her heart beat rapidly as she walked to one side or just behind him, her eyes were alert, scanning the ground and the brush for any sign of the lions having passed that way. The slightest break of a twig brought her instantly to readiness. On more than one occasion, her rifle was lifted and ready to fire at the barest brush of sound...only to be lowered again when a bird rose up from the bush with a flapping of wings and a hoarse cry, annoyed at having been disturbed. How could he blame her? He felt removed himself and yet precisely and acutely aware of every movement or sound around him. The very act of hunting--the tension, the concentration--loosened some internal self-imposed constraint. There was a beauty in this, a precision and an unpredictability that invigorated him. Sometimes it would take a glance at Miss Lawson or at Everleigh, grimly trudging ahead, before he could remind himself of his responsibility to protect his mortal charges. Then the itch in his fangs, the bloodlust, would abate for a while...until he got caught up in the hunt again. His senses were so tuned to the hunt that he lifted his head automatically when a familiar scent reached him, an instant passing before he realized that he'd recognized the smell of human blood. Virginia Lawson stopped almost the moment he did; she was watching him intently, her eyes fever bright. "Did you hear something?" Knowing that she wouldn't believe that he'd smelled the blood--or perhaps fearing that she would--he nodded, holding up his hand as if asking for quiet. Everleigh ceased thrashing about before them and turned back to see why they'd stopped. "Have you found--?" "Ssssh!" Miss Lawson cautioned, her eyes still focused only on Nicholas. The scent came from ahead and to their left. In the tumultuous soup of jungle sound that surrounded him, he could detect no heartbeat. Nicholas gestured for Everleigh to move behind him, certain that they were going to find a corpse. He knocked a trail through the thorn thickets with his boots and the butt of his rifle, inching forward from clearing to clearing, led by the scent of cooling, human blood. The body had been mauled almost to the point of unrecognizability, but the remnant of the white side- whiskers, and a scrap of cloth carrying military decorations proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the remains had once been Colonel Albert Warrington, late of India, retired. Unlike the first site, blood was scattered across the ground, along with pieces of the late Colonel. Nicholas prowled the perimeter of the scene, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming scent of blood by sorting out the varied lion tracks. "It's a pair," he announced, kneeling to indicate the clear tracks. "I'd guess a male and female. The male's badly wounded--it can't last much longer." "I think I'll try to circle round, see if we can trap them between us." Everleigh inclined his head toward his fiancee, who was obsessively studying the tracks around Warrington's scattered remains. "I'd be obliged if you'd keep on eye on Ginny. She's better than most men with a gun in her hands. Still--" He followed Everleigh's glance and nodded slightly. "I understand." "I'm sure that you do." Giving Nicholas a grim smile in parting, Everleigh headed off into the bush. Virginia Lawson only then noticed that he was leaving. "Carlton?" Nicholas stepped across the blood-caked earth and pulled her aside before she could follow her fiance. "He's gone ahead. He's going to try to cut them off and head them back toward us." "Damn fool," she snarled, staring as her fiance disappeared into the darkened jungle that surrounded them. "If men like Comstock and Colonel Warrington could fall prey to these beasts, how does he think he'll survive?" "I'm sure he'll be fine," soothed Nicholas. "More pity if he is." Miss Lawson paused as she regarded him thoughtfully. "Now I've shocked you, haven't I?" "Not at all." "Liar." She grinned and stalked toward him, slipping the strap of her gun over her shoulder. "London is filled with men like Carlton--more money than sense. If they've got any nerve, they hunt the best of everything, from wine to women to beasts. But once they have their prize, they're too well bred to do anything about it." Drawing close against him, she whispered, "What about you, Kent? You and LaCroix seem different than the others. Would you know what to do with a woman, a woman, if you caught her?" Her lips were coated with something that tasted of flower nectar but which did nothing to mask the scent of the blood that boiled in her veins--hot, reminding him of the burning curries of the east, but sweeter and more tempting. He tasted the nape of her neck, and his world turned gold. His fangs began to ache for the fire of her blood; such seasoning promising to linger on his tongue long after her body had cooled and been discarded. Somehow, he managed to catch hold of her elbows and push her back. Nick turned his head and closed his eyes, fearing that she'd see the transformation in him. He breathed deeply, fighting down his lust for her flesh and her blood. Virginia Lawson wrested her arms from his grip, and he let her pull away. He could sense her fury. "You're all alike--spineless to the last. I suppose there's someone waiting for you, then? Some pasty-faced little homebody of a wench, sighing and pining away for the safe return of her Nicholas?" He opened his eyes and fought back a smile--he'd never heard Janette described in quite those terms before. He'd have to remember that description; it might amuse her. "I try to make it a habit never to seduce other men's fiancees." "How often do you succeed?" Nicholas smiled openly this time. "A gentleman wouldn't answer such a question." "I have a feeling, Kent, that you're more of a rogue than a gentleman." Miss Lawson eyed him, as if taking his measure. "But Mr. LaCroix--which is he, I wonder?" Nicholas caught her wrist as she walked past him, stopping her. "Stay away from LaCroix." "Why?" Miss Lawson freed herself from his grasp, her tone curious. "It can't be jealousy--you've just proven that. Do you think he's too much the gentleman for me, that I'd be a bad influence on him?" "He'll kill you." Her eyes widened slightly in disbelief, but as she continued to look at him and understood that he was telling the truth, she smiled. "You're serious." "If you value your life, stay away from him." "If I value my life?" Virginia Lawson's lips drew taut to a line of grim determination. Gesturing toward the thicket, she asked, "Should we press onward? Or remain here?" For a moment, Nicholas was tempted to pull her into his grasp, rise into the air, and return them both to camp. He could hypnotize her, make her forget about LaCroix and about him, her only memories those of a disastrous hunt...but there was still Everleigh to consider. There was still a chance to save them both. If he saw the hunt through, stayed by Miss Lawson's side until the instant that he and LaCroix left.... "Press onward." Nicholas cast a disparaging look at the bloodied grass. "The lions won't return here. If we're to catch them between us, we'd better move parallel to your fiance." "And wouldn't be a novelty." Picking up her discarded rifle, Virginia Lawson flung the strap over her shoulder. "This way, then, Mr. Kent. Let's hope the next body we come upon won't belong to Mr. LaCroix." (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Wed, 9 Apr 1997 23:26:25 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (05/12) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Part 5 of 12 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST "There's nothing to worry about," Nick told Natalie, pulling away slightly. "Sandler's young; he doesn't know what he's doing." "LaCroix said that Sandler's been hunting--he's been killing and drinking human blood, human blood. I think I've got a few bodies down in the morgue to prove it; that's what I wanted you to see." Natalie stepped back, out of his grasp. "Feeding from a fresh kill makes a difference, doesn't it? LaCroix says animal blood weakens you, that you'll need human blood to beat Sandler." Leaving her, Nick walked over to the table on which the bags of blood had been piled. He hefted one in his hand experimentally, the weight shifting as the liquid sloshed inside. "No." "You have to drink human blood, if it's the only way you'll be able to beat him." When he refused to respond, she walked up beside him and shook his shoulder urgently. "You've done it before...you've done it recently. This time, it's in a good cause." "But does that make it right?" Holding the bag of blood out to her, he met her eyes. "We've had this argument before, only we've switched sides this time. What was it you used to say--evil on behalf of a good cause is still evil? That's what this means to me. This--" he tossed the bag onto the pile in disgust, "--represents what I've been, what I no longer want to be." Turning toward her, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to fight Sandler the best way I know how, but I'm going to do it without losing another piece of my soul." Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "You know, there's a part of me that's more proud of you now than I've ever been. And there's another part of me that would love to take a five iron and beat some sense into your thick skull. Your timing sucks, you know that?" "I guess it does." Smiling, he reached out a hand to touch her cheek. "I know what I'm doing." "I hope you do, for your sake. And mine. And--oh--a hell of a lot of people who have the right to go on believing that vampires don't exist." Natalie backed away from him, her smile fading. "I should go." "You don't have to--" "No, but I should." She picked up her coat and bag from the chair. He had a sense that some part of her had already left him, although she was still in the room. Solitude was a given in his lifetime--he'd spent too many centuries alone. He'd come close to losing her forever. As Natalie turned to walk toward the door, she glanced at him in passing. "What?" she asked, obviously intrigued by his expression. "I was just thinking," he mumbled. "About?" Lifting his head, he met her gaze. "How lucky I was not to have lost you." "You pretty lucky," she answered, the softness in her eyes disappearing. "Considering that you'd decided to let me die." There it was again. Of all that had kept them apart in the recent past, this cut the deepest. "You know what I am," he said coldly. "You know I couldn't bear--" " couldn't bear?" Natalie's voice was just as cold, perhaps more strained and brittle. "No--and neither would you if you truly knew what a cursed existence this was, if you had any idea what it meant to live in this darkness, decade after decade, alone...." The words sounded hollow as he stared at her, trying to make her understand why he'd made that decision; a decision that he'd known at that time he would live to regret, if he'd chosen to live at all. She was watching him with a wistful expression, her eyes softer and sad. "I didn't ask you to take responsibility for me or my soul. I asked you to love me, Nick. I asked you to make sure we'd be together. I didn't want to with you; I wanted to with you. Because no matter what happened, whether I stayed mortal or became a vampire, I'd be alive." "This living." Nick grasped her hand in his tightly, let her feel the chill of his skin against the warmth of her own. "This is misery. This is agony. This isn't life." Natalie's grip shifted, her fingers holding his just as tightly. "It isn't death. It's flesh and blood and a beating heart--okay, so it beats slowly, but it's . It's , Nick. It's ." Her fingers released his and her hand slipped from his grasp as Natalie took a step backward. "I trusted you to give me a choice, to let choose...but, no, you had to choose for me. You always know what's best for everyone." "I couldn't let you make the same mistake I did." "That's the point--it was choice and you took it from me. Like these--" She gestured toward the pile of blood-filled bags on the table. "I was wrong to bring these here. I'll admit it--what LaCroix said scared the hell out of me. That's why I came here tonight, to try to talk you out of it, or at least make you reconsider drinking human blood. But this is your fight, it's your life...and it's choice." She swallowed, looked away from him, then picked up her bag and jacket again. "And now I should be going--" There were tears at the corners of her eyes, and her voice was shaky. Nick walked beside her as Natalie headed for the elevator, then took her hand in his before she could open the door. "Thanks--for letting me do this my own way, for not forcing the issue." "I'm not sure anything I might have said would have made a difference." "It would have," he assured her. "It " "Does it?" Her smile was sad. "Right now, I'm not so sure it ever has." Natalie slipped her hand from his as he opened the elevator door for her, then she stepped inside the lift. "Be careful, okay?" The door thumped into place, and the car descended. Nick stood there a moment, contemplating the blank surface made remarkable only by a charred area. Being near Natalie made him feel alive, gave him hope. She inspired him to remember the better parts of his existence, the good he'd been able to do, those brief but brilliant flickers of light in the darkness. Natalie life...and he'd killed her. The moment was still so clear to him; knowing that her brightness was slipping through his fingers, his own heart torn by having failed her, fearing to fail her again, fearing what might happen if he brought her into the dark life he'd known for so long. There'd been no thought to her choice, only how he might choose for her. His decision had been made out of his love for her, his love her. When Natalie's life had rested in his hands, he'd chosen to let her die. Free consent, freely given. He'd made his own choice over seven hundred and fifty years ago and had spent a good number of the subsequent nights in regret. At times he'd blamed LaCroix or Janette, but when he was being honest with himself, when truth could no longer bear the disguise of self-delusion, Nick admitted that the choice had been his--in the end, only he could be held accountable. If he had given her the option, would Natalie have chosen to walk into the light and leave him? Or would she have chosen to return to him, as she'd said, and live beside him in darkness, bolstering his heart and faith with her own hope until they could find a cure? He'd never know. If their positions had been reversed, would Natalie have had the strength to let him make his own choice, a choice he'd denied her? In a way, she just had. Nick walked back to the table. Hefting one of the bags of blood again, he stared at it for a moment, then placed it in the paper bag. Out of sight meant out of mind, and right now he didn't need the temptation. No matter how firm his intention to abstain, he knew his limits all too well. So did Natalie, and yet she gave him credit for wanting to try to live up to his ideal. He saw the pride in her eyes and was warmed by it, perhaps even more than he'd been touched by her concern for him. Despite her fears for his safety, she'd supported not only his decision, but his right to make his own decision. Tossing the last blood-filled package into the bag, he realized that there might be a chance to heal the breach between them. Natalie had taken the first step tonight. Now it was his turn. He had to make the next move. Nick wasn't at all certain what that should be. *** The ring of the phone cut through his dreams. Nick sat bolt upright on the couch, then fumbled for the receiver before the answering machine could pick up. "Wait--wait-- Nat?" "Sorry, no such luck," said Adam's voice, as Nick lost hold of the phone and it tumbled to the floor just out of reach. He picked up the receiver again, still more than slightly bleary-eyed. There were a number of empty bottles scattered around the couch. If he was going to face Sandler, he had to do something to compensate for the fact that his opponent was feeding from humans. A glance at the clock in the kitchen told him that the sun was still high in the sky. "Sakai, this had be good--" "You can hang me by my heels from your fire escape if this doesn't make your day." "I may take you up on that," growled Nick, climbing back onto the couch and lying down. "Then listen to this--" It was a recording from a telephone. One of the police operators answered, "Metro police, how may I direct your call?" "I dunno," said a male voice. Nick guessed young, not even twenty. "It's about the guy who got killed the other night, at the hunt club." "I can connect you with the officers heading that investigation. One moment--" "No--hang on. I wanna know if I tell them what I saw, I don't have to go to jail, right? I didn't kill anybody. They've gotta stop him. He's gonna go through with it. He's gonna--" The recording ending with a dial tone. Nick took a long breath. "Coates? "That's our guess, it matches the accident call made right after the murder. The captain's trying to decide which of the kids to pull in to see if we can get a tentative ID." "Forget the ID." Sitting up on the couch, Nick glared at the shutters on his windows--he wasn't going anywhere, not in full daylight. "Just bring Coates in and bring him in fast. Promise him anything--" "Wouldn't help. He's dead." "When?" "That call was placed at nine this morning. Our boys headed over to Coates' place as soon as the search warrant came in--they found him hanging in the bedroom. Looks like a suicide, but we called Natalie in early for a confirmation and to run forensics on the clothing." Rising from the couch, Nick walked to the windows and placed his hand against the metal shutters. Despite the cold temperature, he could still feel the warmth of the sunlight. "I won't be able to join you for at least--" Nick glanced over his shoulder at the clock, "--another hour at the earliest. Have you spoken to Natalie yet about the prints?" "Are you kidding? I let the day shift people call her." Nick smiled and placed his hand on the shutter again, enjoying the sensation of the sun-warmed metal. Natalie had a reputation for being on call at any hour of the day or night...but that didn't mean anyone wanted to be the one who had to call her. "I saw her last night. She said we've definitely got two sets of footprints around the body and none of the nine PAR kids match. If Coates' prints match one set--" "Then he could have been trying to finger the accomplice...or the murderer." Then was a pause on Adam's end of the line. "I'll check it out. Catch up with me at the Coroner's Office?" "Just like Reese said, Siamese twins." " said that, not Reese. And I still don't like the mental picture. See you in the dark, partner." Nick walked back to the couch and set the phone on the cradle, resisting the urge to slam it down in frustration. With Coates dead, all they had left was forensics to point them to the other killer. Every minute the sun was up was another minute wasted. He couldn't chance bundling up and driving in, not with all the blood he'd consumed since last evening. He could waste some time with a shower and dressing for work, but he'd just end up pacing in front of the windows, waiting for the safety of darkness before he could return to the world...and the murder case. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, Nick sat down again and sighed. Some afternoons, it didn't pay to roll off the couch. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com.