From v4s@FKFANFIC.COM Mon May 25 21:25:37 1998 Date: Wed, 20 May 1998 21:16:37 -0400 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Sounds of Silence (6/9) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #14 Episode Title: "Sounds of Silence" "Air" Date: May 20, 1998 Author: Libby Singleton Part 6 of 9 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 Elizabeth (Libby) Singleton -------------------------- SOUNDS OF SILENCE "Listen to me, LaCroix," Nick said, spinning his master's chair around. LaCroix looked up at him, unblinking. The lights of the soundbooth caused sharp shadows to fall across his face. Nick instinctively stepped back, realizing he was close to the older vampire's limit. "I had to use the roof entrance..." "So you admit to finding at least one of our special gifts useful?" "This isn't funny!" Nick snapped. "There are protestors surrounding the front door!" "Hardly a troubling matter. Merely mortals at their play. Would you believe that newspaper woman is even attempting to follow me about the town? No doubt seeking some sort of deep, dark secret." Standing, LaCroix brushed past Nick to begin thumbing through a stack of compact disks. "Their lives are so short, yet they cannot find anything better to do. Were you aware even young Tammy Reese, your Captain's daughter, has joined the circus? "She's protesting you?" Chuckling softly, LaCroix turned toward him. "Hardly. She's started a write-in campaign to keep the Nightcrawler on the airwaves. Very quaint, don't you think? Almost as amusing as the gathering you're planning for your partner." He removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Haven't you had enough of celebrations and gifts?" Nick snatched it from LaCroix's hand. "This is the invitation list! How'd you get it?" "It must have fallen from your pocket. Seeing the importance of the list, I kept it safe although you seem to have overlooked *my* invitation." "You're not invited," Nick grumbled. "Really? You seem to have invited every other acquaintance of yours, at least those you share with the good Detective Sakai. Am I doomed to spend another evening bereft of mortal company...." "Don't even think about coming." Nick glared, causing his master to chuckle softly. "What? Do you fear I might spoil your newest 'pretending' game? Not this time. I'm much too preoccupied watching *them* parade in front of the studio welding signs nailed to stakes. Really delightfully dangerous, don't you think? Besides, that birthday song is atrocious. Honestly, Nicholas, you can be such a...drag at times." *** "Craig, oh, Craig!" Juanita shouted. The Belle's handyman looked up from his car washing and waved. The warmth from the sun reflected off the gold Lexus, causing her to squint to see him clearly. "Hi, Ms. Wallis." Approaching him, Juanita smiled. Despite the cold and the wet task at hand, Craig was dressed only in a sweater, yet sweat coated his brow. "Where is everyone? I wanted to see if they had any pictures of Rachel and Bethany together." "They went to the store but I have some pictures. Want to see them?" Juanita hesitated. "Are they of the girls? I don't have a lot of time right now...." "Yes, ma'am. I like pictures! I have lots of them! Lots of Rachel and Den...." Craig fell silent, his face flushed. "Something wrong?" "Uhr, no, ma'am! I was just thinking...just thinking about how much Denny misses Rachel. Yeah, that's it. Come on, I'll show you the pictures." A half-hour later, Juanita found herself still sitting on the bed in Craig's room, sorting through shoe boxes upon shoe boxes of photos. "I don't mean to be rude, but I really need to leave now." "Oh, look at this box! Here's a bunch of pictures of the family, maybe one with Bethany in it." He pulled the lid off, dumping the contents in Juanita's lap. A black and white, five by seven professional print immediately caught her eye. She stared at it for a moment, trying to decide if the nude woman was really Mary Belle. The fact the woman would pose for such a picture didn't in and of itself surprise her. Many normally reserved wives might have such a portrait made for her husband. However, in the background a sign on the wall proclaimed "GENTLEMEN'S DEN -- live nude dancing every night". "Craig, where'd you get this?" He grabbed the picture, face turning red. "Uh, oh. I forgot. I'm not suppose to have that. I...found it a long time ago." "Here?" "No, where I worked before," he muttered softly. "Where I first met Mrs. Belle, a long time ago, I swept this dancing place. They made movies there, too. I liked it there when the women were nice to me. But the boss, he could be mean sometimes. He yelled a lot. I don't like people to yell. So when Mrs. Belle got married, she asked if I'd like to work for them." Juanita pulled her notebook from her purse, jotting down the information. Although it didn't relate to her current article, perhaps a future story on women in the pornography business would be interesting. Most likely Mary wouldn't talk, but surely there were others who would. Some people found a little self-promotion irresistible. "I used to hide and watch the pretty women dance," Craig admitted, reaching for another picture from the pile. "Here, use this one." The photo Craig offered showed a very young Rachel and Bethany, arms around each other's necks. They appeared to be no more than five or six. "Good choice, Craig." Dimpled and smiling, the picture would make a tear jerking illustration. Now if she could only find a story.... "Did you say you used to hide in the club?" "Yeah. I'd sneak in before they opened and hide behind the stage. The ladies knew I did it, but the bossman, he never found out." "You hid? And no one ever caught you?" "No, ma'am! The ladies only knew 'cause I told them." she considered. Risky, but perhaps worth the danger of a few hours in jail for trespassing. It'd be simple to slip into the CERK building during normal hours, then all she'd have to do was wait patiently. *** Craig carefully placed his boxes of pictures onto the closet shelf. Worry knitted his brow as he remembered how Mrs. Belle once lectured him on the importance of not telling anyone she used to dance. He'd forgotten about it when he told Juanita. Sighing, he realized he could do nothing now except apologize before the Belles found out. "You don't care about Rachel!" he heard Denny shout when the front door opened. "The least you can do is help me make some more posters. I hate you!" "Mary, leave him alone," Nathan's gruff, yet gentle voice said. "Let him grieve in his own way." "None of this seems to be doing any good. The Nightcrawler is still on the air, and even if he wasn't, nothing we're doing would bring back our Rachel!" "How can you talk like that?" Nathan's tone was suddenly harsh and loud. "Rachel deserves to leave a legacy. If what we're doing keeps one young person from becoming corrupted...." "Nathan, we don't even know if the Nightcrawler had anything to do with this! Maybe it was just a coincidence that your car's radio was set to that station! Anyone could have come along and locked that door by accident. Even you!" "Me?" "I know how you are about that damn car! Always insisting it be locked up...." The argument grew louder, more fierce sounding. Craig covered his ears with his hands. The fight was bad, real bad. Tears began streaming down his face as he paced through his room. He wanted it to stop. Denny's name echoed through his thoughts. "It's a classic. That car didn't kill Rachel any more than Denny--" "I did!" Craig screamed, unable to stand the hostility any longer. He rushed through the kitchen into the living room. "I killed her! I locked the door 'cause I know Mr. Belle likes it locked! I didn't mean to kill them. I didn't!" He ran outside and across the lawn, not heeding the Belles' shouts to stop. *** Nick found LaCroix standing on the roof of the CERK building. His master's expression appeared grim, his body stiff with tension. Shouts of protest were mingled with those of counter-protestors, drifting upward into a tangle of sheer noise. He landed beside LaCroix, not bothering to suppress the slight smile. They stood in silence for a while, the wind whipping Nick's coat outward. When LaCroix offered no acknowledgment of his presence, Nick finally spoke. "The crowd seems bigger tonight." "Yes, and becoming quite annoying and tiresome. Ms. Wallis managed to be at every convenient landing spot in this vicinity, apparently circling the area like a vulture." "Don't tell me you're thinking of giving up," Nick teased, though he tinged his tone with hope. "Hardly. No mortal folly can finish off the Nightcrawler. There are still many truths to be spoken." Nick declined to reply, instead focusing his attention on two of the mortals below. They appeared to be shouting at each other instead of the world at large. >>>----------> Shouts and pounding woke Nicholas in the middle of the afternoon. At first he was puzzled. A sign on the door clearly marked the newspaper's office hours as being night- time. Gradually, as his senses returned, he realized the shouts were those of anger. Throwing the quilt back, he started to climb from bed but LaCroix rushed in, lifting him up by the neck with one hand before his feet touched the floor. "You published it," his master growled. He held a crumpled copy of that morning's newspaper in his free hand. Slightly smudged, it'd obviously been retrieved from the rejection bin. "After my warning, you dared to defy me? Even admitting in print that you stopped a lynching yourself?" "They were going to kill an innocent man!" Nick choked out. He gripped his hands around LaCroix's wrist, feeling his nails dig into flesh. A slight whiff of his master's tempting blood entered his nose as a single drop flowed from the wound. Yet LaCroix did not flinch, and Nick did not yield to the blood's call. "This vigilantism must stop!" "I'd suggest you tell that to the mob outside -- which, I might add, is armed with torches and kerosene." A loud crash shook the wooden floors of the flimsily constructed dwelling. Janette entered the room, slamming the door behind her. Her skin was paler than usual, her eyes wide with excitement and fear. "They're inside, smashing the presses! We must leave, LaCroix." Flung to the floor, Nick clutched a broken left wrist as LaCroix carefully moved the heavy curtains back. A flood of sunlight entered, catching Nick across his bare legs. He rolled out of the offending glimpse of day. "At least they have not surrounded the building," LaCroix uttered through clenched teeth. Nick's room was located at the very back of the dwelling. "But that does us little good until the cursed sun moves far enough to offer us a chance to reach safety." LaCroix yanked the quilt from the bed, tossing it to Janette. "Be prepared to cover yourself with this, my dear." He threw open Nick's large, hardwood wardrobe, retrieving a blanket. This, he kept himself as Nick knew he would; LaCroix's punishment. The wrist no longer throbbing as it healed, Nick climbed to his feet. Not even the smallest amount of regret passed through his mind despite LaCroix's angry, unforgiving glare. Janette's eye betrayed a certain sympathy, yet the firm outline of her mouth showed her own irritation. "They're burning us out!" Janette exclaimed, turning her head toward the closed bedroom door. Nick could also hear the crackling wood and smell the kerosene laced smoke. The human heartbeats had grown fainter; they'd left the building. "If they didn't surround the building, perhaps they mean for us to leave safely out the back windows?" "Does it really matter to *us*?" LaCroix snapped. "Destruction by fire, or by sun, either one will be quite painful, I assure you. Does it give you any comfort to speculate that they didn't *mean* to kill us?" "No," Nick whispered. <----------<<< The sight of one of the counter-protestors slugging a protestor snapped Nick back to the present. Instinct told him to swoop down. The knowledge of witnesses caused him to rush to the door and down the stairs. Behind him, Nick heard a familiar, exasperated, "Nicholas, let them be." By the time he reached the station's lobby, the two person brawl had escalated into a near riot. He slammed through the door, realizing too late it was locked. His vampiric strength snapped the bolt, sending him sliding out of control on the slick concrete into a lady. Slamming into her, they both fell to the ground, him on top. Surrounded by the blare of heated words and fists hitting faces, the impact of the spiral end of a reporter's notebook stung his face. Out of the corner of his eye, as he climbed to his feet, he saw Juanita Wallis scrambling out of the brouhaha. A large, muscular, bushy bearded biker type in front of Nick raised his "Don't Censor the Nightcrawler" sign over the head of an equally large, equally dangerous looking man in a London Fog overcoat. Grabbing the sign by the stake, he yanked it from the man's grasp. "Hey!" the man yelled, swinging a fist at Nick's face. Nick managed to duck, hearing the punch hit someone behind him. However, when he turned, a woman smacked him on the head with her protest sign. Suddenly, it seemed as if the entire crowd, both sides, were focusing on him in what Nick silently dubbed a moment of mass hysteria. They were surrounding him; crushing him. An aroma of cheap perfume and sweaty winter coats assaulted his senses. The mortal heartbeats, the mortal pulses, were almost overwhelming. There were at least thirty of them, swinging not only fists, but the signs held by dangerous wooded stakes. Shoved to the ground despite the crush of bundled bodies, a kick in the small of the back rewarded his attempt to crawl from the melee. On the roof, stories above him, he swore he could hear LaCroix laughing. When the sound of sirens cut above the protestors' threats and jeers, they immediately scattered. Some slipped, falling on the ice. Uniformed and plain-clothed officers leapt from their vehicles, capturing others who'd fled in the wrong direction. A dark, warm hand closed around Nick's arm, lifting him to his feet. "What the *hell* is going on here, Knight?" "Would you believe a Nightcrawler fanclub meeting?" Nick asked, smiling weakly at Reese. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COM Mon May 25 21:25:44 1998 Date: Wed, 20 May 1998 21:16:42 -0400 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Sounds of Silence (7/9) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #14 Episode Title: "Sounds of Silence" "Air" Date: May 20, 1998 Author: Libby Singleton Part 7 of 9 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 Elizabeth (Libby) Singleton -------------------------- SOUNDS OF SILENCE "You wanted to see me?" Reese wanted to do more than see Nick. He wanted to strangle him. But that'd really make for a mess with Internal Affairs, so he settled for a stern glare. If he hadn't been driving through the area on his way to the office when the call came over the radio, Reese wouldn't have believed it. One of his homicide detectives in a street fight? "Come in and sit down." The detective moved to an office chair, sitting down a bit stiffly. Reese blinked, studying Nick thoroughly. There were no cuts, no bruises, or anything else indicating he'd been in a near riot only hours before. Nick stared back, looking confused before he shifted slightly. "I'm still a little stiff...." "A little stiff? I swear they were kicking the life out of you! Damn, Knight, you must have the constitution of an ox!" "Oh, well, it's actually pretty bad but I figured with so many out on vacation, I might as well work since nothing's broken," Nick said. "You sure?" Nick nodded. "Then you might as well start with an explanation." Reese leaned back as far as his chair would allow, then crossed his arm. "Don't give me any bull about fan clubs." "Like I said, I'd swung over by the station to talk with LaCroix about the Belle-Spivey case," Nick explained. "I thought he might at least give us some insight into his ...fans. I, uhr, figured he might get fan mail...." "That's not what I'm questioning, Knight! You're one of the best damn investigators I've ever seen and I'm learning never to question your hunches no matter how bizarre they may seem," Reese lectured. "That doesn't explain how you knocked the door out of the building!" "Adrenaline." "That may be," Reese sighed, "for all the good it did you in the end. Why didn't you call for backup when all that crap outside the station started? With the Belle's handyman confessing, then taking off to parts unknown, we've got more to worry about than one of my detectives getting caught in a street riot!" "It was only two people, I thought I could handle it. Then someone took me by surprise...." Nick paused, shrugging. "If you were trying to act the cavalier to impress LaCroix, all you did was give him something to laugh about. Should've seen him standing inside the building. I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face." The chair creaked as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Do you realize how much this Nightcrawler stir up is costing me in postage? Tammy used up an entire roll in two days writing letters to the station, letters to the newspaper; wouldn't be surprised to find out she's written to the Prime Minister! On top of all that, she's been bugging me since before Christmas to take her to the station. Says she's got a surprise--" Adam flung open the door, not bothering to knock. Reese recognized the restlessness and excitement in the young officer's stance and attitude; something big was coming down. "The Belle's handyman's been found!" Adam announced breathlessly. *** This time Nick took a turn questioning Craig. He tried looking the suspect directly in the eyes, mildly hypnotizing him. However, whatever effected Craig's mind was too deep to allow this, at least at a level that no witnesses would be aware of Nick's action. Craig fidgeted under his stare, playing with a stray thread on the borrowed jacket, kicking the leg on the table, moving from one restless task to another from minute to minute. "So you did lock the door?" Nick asked gently, soothingly. Craig's head bobbed up and down in an exaggerated nod. "Why?" "'Cause it is supposed to be locked when Mr.Belle's not in there." "Didn't you hear the radio? Wouldn't that give you a clue that someone was using the garage?" "W...what radio?" Craig asked, tracing an imaginary picture on the interrogation room table. "You told Detective Sakai that you went and told Mr.Belle someone was in the garage when you heard the radio and found the door locked." "I...I got confused! I...I didn't know Rachel and Bethany were in there or I wouldn't have locked it!" Craig's voice climbed in volume with each word. "I promise. I knew what I did was bad. I didn't want to go to jail. I...I didn't know they were in there!" The man began rocking, muttering rhythmically, "I didn't know." "Craig?" Nick said, then repeated more firmly, "Craig?" There was no response. Looking up at the observation window, Nick signaled the end of the questioning. *** She'd waited too long. Juanita wanted to curse, to scream to the world the unfairness of life. Even if she managed to get in to talk with the Nightcrawler, she'd only have a few hours at best to write the article. Police now watched CERK around the clock, keeping the protestors and counter-protestors across the street from the building. Only employees were allowed inside; employees and the guy fixing the door. Her prayer was answered when a protestor broke apart from the pack, rushing toward another protestor. As the police rushed toward the fight, she dashed for the door. "Whoa, I don't think anybody's supposed to be gettin' in," the repairman said. The name "Butch" was stitched on his jacket. "Which side are you on?" "I'm with the Toronto Weekly News." Opening her purse, Juanita removed a few ten dollar bills, offering it to the repairman. "You're crazy, lady," Butch laughed. "But if it works on television, don't see why it shouldn't work here. Go ahead, sneak past me. With the door busted, it's too cold for anyone to be working in the lobby. You shouldn't be spotted." He took the cash, shoving it into his pocket. Going back to work immediately, he began whistling, "I'm In The Money." As promised, the lobby was empty. After a moment to get oriented, Juanita ducked into an empty office, closing the door behind her. Dark, computer off, there were no signs the usual occupant would return. She flipped on a small desk lamp. Opening her notebook, she began studying her hastily scribbled handwriting, mentally formulating how she would approach LaCroix. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COM Mon May 25 21:25:51 1998 Date: Wed, 20 May 1998 21:16:46 -0400 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Subject: V4S: Sounds of Silence (8/9) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #14 Episode Title: "Sounds of Silence" "Air" Date: May 20, 1998 Author: Libby Singleton Part 8 of 9 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 Elizabeth (Libby) Singleton -------------------------- SOUNDS OF SILENCE LaCroix allowed himself more than a little amusement at CERK management's choice of a so-called security guard. With little effort, the elderly man was made to sleep, and sleep he would until the office workers arrived after dawn. Yet in what normally was LaCroix's solitude in the station, another heartbeat could be heard. An easy enough matter to trace; he went right to the office, slowly opening the door. Juanita Wallis slumbered peacefully, her head down on the advertising manager's desk. It would be a simple matter to take her, and in times past LaCroix would not have hesitated. These days, however, the disappearance of a reporter would be questioned. Although her fingertips rested on a notebook, he risked sliding it out. She didn't stir until he began flipping through the pages; then, startled, her head jerked up and she practically jumped to her feet. Almost as an afterthought, she grabbed the notebook from LaCroix's hands. He found himself left holding the back cover. "I'm afraid you've torn your notebook, my dear." "You had no right to be looking at it!" "Indeed?" He moved around the desk until he stood next to her. "And you have a...right to be in this building? Or is this part of your stalking expedition?" "Huh?" Juanita took a step back. "I...I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. LaCroix. I've merely been trying to ask you a few questions." "Such as?" "Your past." "Oh, I'm afraid you'd find that information quite long and tedious." "Really? What little I could find seems very interesting. The first reference is your debut as the Nightcrawler after which you disappeared. A year after you returned, the deed to a nightclub called the Raven was signed over to you after which you began to broadcast from the bar. Not long afterwards, a headless corpse was discovered in your beer 'fridge." The woman paused. No doubt she expected some reaction. Waiting until her heartbeat quickened enough to indicate a growing nervousness, LaCroix tilted his head slightly, speaking as if the matter was of no consequence. "Yes. I found the head gift wrapped, in a manner of speaking." Juanita swallowed. "Uhr, there was mention of that. And were you not, months later, involved in a hit and run incident involving..." "A mini-van," he interjected. "Miss Wallis, this has been a most boring conversation, but I do have a show to do." "Listen, I've been unable to find any information on you prior to your arrival in Toronto! I'd place your accent from Britain, yet there's no traces of passports, no record of you seeking permission to work or live in Canada. I...I do admit to following you the past few days, for all the good it did! It...it was like you'd disappear into thin air!" "And you see yourself as a skilled tracker; a hunter, as it were?" Again, LaCroix stepped forward, smiling charmingly. Although her eyes grew wider, her pupils dilated, she stood her ground. "I suppose that's what I do; hunt down the news, Mr.LaCroix. I'm a journalist, a damn good one, and I want to know why the Nightcrawler lures so many into his clutches." "Is that what I do, my dear, 'lure?'" Carefully keeping his blue eyes driving deep into her brown ones, he brushed her cheek with the fingers of his left hand. Her skin was warm, her scent inviting, but there were other games to play tonight. Testing her resolve, he gripped the notebook, easily removing it from her clutch. "Let me be the judge of who is luring whom. In the meanwhile, you'd best have a seat." He lightly touched her arm, guiding her into the desk chair. Juanita oozed into it. The notebook contained nothing about him that wasn't already public information. All trivial in the grand scheme of existence. A flip of the page, however, proved much more interesting. "Perhaps you are a good reporter, Miss Wallis, but it would seem you are following the wrong lead. There's a much more intriguing story, it would appear, in Mary Belle's past. Do you, by chance, have any proof other than the word of a half-wit?" "In...in my purse," she purred. "An old photograph." "Then you have a new story to pursue, do you not?" he suggested, staring straight into her eyes. "I have a new story...." she whispered. *** Juanita couldn't exactly say she 'awoke' in her car as it was more a feeling of regaining control of her thoughts. Rubbing her forehead, she vaguely remembered sneaking into CERK's offices, and a conversation with the Nightcrawler. All she could recall seemed to be of the boringness of the entire conversation. He'd shed no light on the girls' murders, and his background was certainly not newsworthy. "Damn!" she muttered to herself, pounding her palm on the steering wheel. What was she going to do for an angle? Her eyes fell on the notebook laying on the passenger's seat. Picking it up, she noticed the back was missing, her puzzlement momentary as Mary Belle's picture slid from between the pages. The secret past of a society leader! Now, there was a story. Of course the Belles, neighbors and friends of hers, would be terribly angry. Juanita's stomach began to tighten with anxiety before she once again felt the excitement of a front page by-line. "I have a new story to pursue," she reminded herself. *** "What will happen to Craig?" Mary asked softly. Nick kept his expression even, neutral. Both families sat around him. Nathan rubbed his wife's back; Denny clutched Mary's hand, his gaze lowered to his own name-brand high top tennis shoes. "It's hard to say at this point. There's a possibility his admission will not hold up in court. I'm sure there'll be a question of competency -- and the Spivey's wishes must be taken into account as well." "Will he go to jail?" Denny muttered. "That depends on the courts. If found guilty, there's a possibility he could simply be committed." "It was an accident!" Denny said. "He'd *never* do anything like this on purpose! If he goes to jail, well, I know what that's like. I've seen it on TV! The other prisoners will kill him." "The courts will take that into consideration," Nick said. "Keep in mind we're still investigating. Meanwhile, Craig will remain in custody." *** <<...So, as yet another night of chit chat and camaraderie with your friend, the Nightcrawler, comes to an end, be sure to take a glance at the latest Toronto Weekly News, due on the stands any moment. It will put my gentle readers' mind at ease concerning the recent unpleasantries, for on the front page, all will be revealed about one who believes the skeletons in her closet are quite safe. But remember, my friends, you can have no secrets from me; as I *am* the Nightcrawler...>> *** "It's just a small gathering," Nick insisted. "Hardly rates being called a party. Just a few friends of ours, some guys from the precinct who are also off. We've all been so busy lately, I thought it'd give everyone something to look forward to." "I dunno, Nick. I was planning on taking it easy," Adam said, reaching a hand behind him to rub the back of his neck." I really thought I'd just stay home, catch up on my sleep. Birthdays just aren't my thing." "I've rented the Party Park. There'll be lots of food." Sighing, Adam nodded as Nick brought the Caddy to a stop in its usual space. "Okay. Who knows, might be fun." "Believe me, once you get there you won't *want* to leave." Nick fell silent and pointed to a figure walking toward them. "Isn't that Denny Belle?" Denny picked up pace when the two got out of the car. Suddenly, he stopped, turned, and started to run. Adam took off after him, catching him by the scruff of the collar. "Whoa there, Denny. It's been my experience that when someone takes off like that, they've got something to hide." When Nick caught up, he could see Denny's tear streaked face. The kid trembled, but not from the cold. He opened his mouth, shut it, then finally mumbled, "I did it." "Did what?" Nick asked. "I locked the garage door. I killed my sister," he wailed. Adam let go of Denny's collar, pulling the boy close in an embrace. "What about Craig?" "I didn't think they'd do anything to him because he's slow. I killed my sister, not him." Pulling away from Adam, he looked at Nick. "I knew about her and Bethany -- knew they were...gay. Rachel told me all about it, even said they were thinking about killing themselves. I thought they were joking -- you know, trying to scare me since I was always saying I was gonna tell our parents about them. How was I supposed to know that's what they were doing in the garage! I figured they'd just snuck out there to listen to the Nightcrawler! I...I didn't know." >>>-----------> The three huddled in a corner of the abandoned stable. Although no longer used, the lingering stench of the still present soiled and spoiled hay was nearly unbearable. Far enough from their former home to be safe from the fire, it was still close enough that the smoke filtered through the stable's walls along with the deadly slivers of sunlight. Heads covered by the quilts and blankets, they'd risked full sun to seek safety. LaCroix and Janette shared their quilts, entwined in a secure, comforting looking embrace. Nicholas sat approximately a foot away, not particularly caring about his isolation. "Dusk approaches," LaCroix announced. "We will go our separate ways to confuse those who might follow. Meet at my home in--" "I won't," Nick barked sharply. "Indeed." LaCroix's tone was calm, but cold and full of warning. "I'm going my own way." "We shall see," his master stated matter-of- factly. "Meanwhile, I hope you've learned that words are as dangerous as the most deadly weapon in the unthinking man's hand." LaCroix removed the quilt from his head. "We can safely leave this hovel. Meet at my St. Louis home." Nick stood, extending his hand to assist Janette, but she brushed it aside, her eyes blazing with blame. She took LaCroix's hand and rose to her feet. Nicholas leaned against a rotting stall divider until he sensed their departure. Then he left, on foot. He'd walk to the next town and purchase a horse. After that, he wasn't sure. However, he knew fate, good or bad, would guide him. It always did. <----------<<< Although Nick wanted to hold the sobbing teenager, comfort him, he let Adam, with his mortal warmth, guide Denny into headquarters. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COM Mon May 25 21:25:56 1998 Date: Wed, 20 May 1998 21:16:53 -0400 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Subject: V4S: Sounds of Silence (9/9) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #14 Episode Title: "Sounds of Silence" "Air" Date: May 20, 1998 Author: Libby Singleton Part 9 of 9 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 Elizabeth (Libby) Singleton -------------------------- SOUNDS OF SILENCE "Thanks for the ride, Nick," Nat said. "No problem," he replied as he held the door open for her. "Car problems seem to be going around. Adam had to jump Reese's van the other day." "I don't think a simple jump is going to handle this. I've just been too busy to get it into the shop." "Needs some work, huh?" Nick said conversationally as he walked her to the apartment building's door. They paused on the steps. The urge to hug her, hold her against him just for a moment, was almost overwhelming. "Actually, it needs a lot of work. I'll worry about it tomorrow." She gazed at him, the redness of exhaustion showing in her eyes. "Thanks again." Nick started to follow her inside. "Please, Nick. I don't mean to be rude, but I'm about to fall asleep where I stand." She turned, heading through the building's door before stopping. "Of course if you need some last minute help with the party...." Nick started to agree, then reconsidered. He didn't want to lie. "No. Everything's done." "Great! Then I'll see you tomorrow night." Nick reached out, gently gripping her arm. "If Vachon's here for a check-up, that's okay." "Nick!" She said, pulling away. "Vachon is not *here*." "I'm sorry. I guess...I guess I just want to visit for a little while," he admitted. "And I'd like to visit with you," she said sincerely. "Only, I'm afraid if I don't get some sleep, I'm going to make myself sick. Then I'll miss the party. I'm sure you don't want that." "Of course not." Natalie brushed her hand against his arm, smiling sweetly if wearily. She quickly stepped inside the building, closing the door. Nick stood in the glow of the porchlight, staring silently at the closed door. There had been a time when Natalie would push aside her own exhaustion to spend time with him. Those days now seemed so far away. *** LaCroix paused before rounding the corner to the front CERK exit. Two mortal heartbeats were detected instead of the crowd he'd come to expect. Hardly anything to concern him. The two who met him at the door were hardly protestors. Instead, a grim looking Joe Reese glowered at him while Tammy, in her wheelchair, waved at him. Across her lap was a violin case. "Hi, Mr.LaCroix! I brought my violin," the young teenager said. Her words were still slightly slurred, the result of a brain injury suffered when she, along with LaCroix, had been slammed into by a mini-van. "I see," he said simply, then nodded at Reese before opening the door. "Good evening, Captain. I trust this is a social call." "Not my idea," the mortal grumbled as he pushed his daughter's wheelchair into the CERK lobby. "She's been after me since before Christmas. Didn't get a chance to bring her down here until now." "I want to play something for you," Tammy interjected. Before her father had brought her chair to a complete halt in the lobby, she had the violin and bow out of the case. "Is that okay?" LaCroix raised an eyebrow. Still grinning, she raised the instrument to her chin, playing a scale. Her right hand still appeared to be partially paralyzed, yet she worked the bow with no small amount of skill. The musical instinct LaCroix had tasted in her blood appeared as she lowered the instrument to tune. Although not quite to perfection, her attempt was as close as he'd expect from a beginner. He rewarded her with a very slight smile. Surprisingly, LaCroix could sense no nervousness as she once again put the violin in place. Instead, she seemed excited with the audience, no matter how small. A true performer, he noted with satisfaction. This would be a welcomed change from the past few nights of angry mortal shouts outside the studio. Tammy's first note sounded strong and true, but somewhere along the line, her fingers slipped from their proper spot along the instrument's neck. Not badly, but enough. Especially considering the chosen tune was not the classical selection he'd expected. Rather, Tammy played a too-slow rendition of "The Orange Blossom Special." When Tammy remained oblivious to her musical disaster in the making, LaCroix, expression carefully composed, glanced at Reese. Surely the Captain would stop his daughter's musical butchery. Wasn't it the duty of parents to guide their children as they learned new skills? Even Nicholas needed correction when he began his first spinet lessons. Reese's normally dower face beamed with pride. Was the man totally tone deaf? At the end of the tune, LaCroix raised his hands to give the required polite applause when Tammy started to repeat the entire song, fingers still misplaced. Though on the outside he remained the attentive audience, he gave passing consideration to yanking the violin from her hands. Fortunately, she finished before LaCroix felt forced to act. Both he and Reese applauded. The girl's father knelt by her chair. "You don't happen to have an encore?" "As much as I would enjoy another selection," LaCroix interjected quickly, "I do have to prepare for the evening's show. As you can well imagine, my normal routine has been badly interfered with the past few evenings." "Besides, Dad, we gotta go!" Looking up at LaCroix, the girl's face was full of excitement. "I'm going to play 'Happy Birthday' for Detective Sakai! Detective Knight's throwing him a surprise birthday party." "Indeed?" LaCroix replied. "Well, then you best be on your way. However, I do look forward to hearing you again...in the future." "You liked it?" Tammy said as she loosened her bow. "Since I can't play sports anymore, I was thinking maybe I could be in an orchestra or something -- after I finish college, of course." LaCroix took Tammy's dark hand in his own pale white one, bowing just enough to brush his lips across it. "My dear, I'm sure with the proper amount of practice, *lots* of *dedicated* practice of the proper musical pieces, anything is possible." *** "Nick, what's wrong?" He turned at the sound of Natalie's voice. Behind her, across the room, he could see Adam talking with Reese and a happy-faced clown. On Adam's sweater a large pin read, "I'm a birthday boy." All around the room, adults and a few children were playing on indoor slides, crawling through large plastic tubes, playing in a tent full of plastic balls, and simply talking. "Can't you see?" Nick asked. "I really messed this one up. I should've let you help." "Messed it up? How? Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time," Nat pointed out. "This is bound to keep the precinct in conversation for at least the next month." "Yeah," Nick moaned. "Talk about how Detective Knight scheduled his partner's birthday party in a *children's* facility." "An honest mistake! No one else caught the fact this place specializes in children's parties." Natalie sighed."I don't understand. Seems to me you'd usually find this funny." "It *isn't* funny!" Nick said. "This was supposed to be a special night for Adam. You'd have known something was wrong when they refused to serve alcohol." "Maybe not...." "You *don't understand*." Nick spun, walking past the mime hostess and outside, letting the door slam behind him. Hearing Natalie follow, he said without turning, "Better get back inside. It's cold out here." "And let you mope away the party by pouting about your immortality. I don't think so!" Natalie snapped. "You want to be mortal so badly, you tend to forget we make mistakes also. This one is so damn trivial!" "Trivial? It's my friend's birthday and I flubbed it up!" Nick felt Nat's hand touch, then tighten around his right forearm. "Trivial, Nick! Especially when compared with little events like Vachon...." "Which you never would have been involved with if you didn't know *me*." Looking up at the night sky, Nick noticed the night was crystal clear. The stars twinkled brilliantly, but the lights of the city dimmed them from the beauty he remembered from less industrialized centuries. "I should have died seven hundred years ago." "What? And me miss your wonderful, enduring temperament?" Natalie said, her tone full of exasperation. She opened her mouth to say something else, but pointed behind Nick instead. Nick turned to find a woman wearing a very tight dress hobbling toward him. He guessed the halo-type hat she wore was supposed to represent flames. "The model," he said under his breath. "Dressed as a birthday candle just like you ordered." The woman smiled hesitantly. "Say, maybe it is none of my business, but is everything okay? My husband and I just divorced so I understand...." "This isn't anything like that. We're just discussing...things," Nick explained quickly "The party's through that door." "Thanks," the woman said. She paused with her hand on the door, throwing a questioning glance over her shoulder. "They're probably more than ready for the cake," Nick snarled. The woman smiled slightly before entering. "She was supposed to have been here an hour ago!" he added after the door closed. "Something else for you to mope about? Geez, Nick, things happen! Things we have to learn to live with from everyday annoyances to life-altering disasters. Until we find a cure, and I still think we will, why can't you accept what you are now?" "Because I'm a monster!" Nick spat. "Like those poor girls who thought they were alone with what they were?" Nat said. "I wonder if they thought of themselves as monsters, freaks of nature?" She drew in a deep breath, then released it, the moisture of her breath visible in the chilly air. "Let me tell you something, Mr. DeBrabant, you are *no* freak of nature. There *are no* freaks of nature. Maybe it's about time you quit being so judgmental about yourself and accept the fact that you might not exactly fit the description of the average mortal, but you are not a monster." Nick stared at her in silence, unsure whether to agree and appease her, or argue. "Maybe I should just leave before I drag *everybody* down. Trouble seems to follow me everywhere." "*What* are you talking about?" "Nothing." "Nick," she said, "you know you can trust me." Nick squeezed his eyes shut, knowing she was right. "Remember those Christmas gifts? Another batch was left in my loft a few nights ago." "And you think this may mean trouble?" Natalie asked worriedly. "I...I don't really know and I sure don't want to talk about it." "So you're going to try to handle that yourself as well," Nat snapped. "Mr. 'I'm All Alone In the World.' Well, as you might remember me pointing out before, there *are* people who care about you, Nick. People in that room. Why don't you go in there and have some fun. It'd take your mind off yourself." "I'd like to," Nick whispered. "I'd like to forget what I am, the problems I cause for those around me." "You know," Natalie said sharply, "maybe you *should* leave before you drag everyone down with your self-pity. Go home, get some sleep and hopefully you'll wake up in a better mood. I'll take over here, make some exuses." Blinking, Nick found himself in a state of disbelief. Subconsciously, he'd expected her to argue he should stay, perhaps even beg. Her face betrayed the truth to her statement -- she *wanted* him to leave. So he did without another word. *** Natalie felt guilty about insisting Nick leave. No doubt he would have snapped out of his bad mood once he allowed himself to see how much everyone was enjoying themselves. Still, she'd almost forgotten how much his periods of self-hatred irritated her. She fielded the questions of Nick's sudden disappearance with the explanation he wasn't feeling well which was, in a sense, the truth. Although everyone expressed their concern, the distractions offered by the celebration lured them quickly back into a party mood. Yet she found herself unable to keep Nick out of her mind even as she organized a game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey complete with cheesy, cheap but popular little plastic prizes. "Nick doesn't know what he's missing, huh?" Reese said, opening a tiny deck of Old Maid cards he'd just won. "Well, if he's coming down with something...." "Listen," Reese whispered, dragging her away from the crowd. "Be truthful with me, Nat. You guys had a fight." She started to deny it, then smiled sheepishly. "Thought so. You just had that same stubborn set to your jaw when you came back inside that my wife gets." He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. I know your friendship with Nick hasn't exactly been up to par since Tracy's death, but you have to remember that was the second partner he'd lost in a very short period of time. Add that to your grief over your friend and...well...stress does strange things to people. You two got along too well to let that kind of closeness evaporate." "Captain, that's sweet but..." "I know, your relationship with one of my detectives is none of my business," Reese admitted. "But when you two are getting along, there's a certain chemistry. A visible bond." "That was then, Captain. When certain things happen, relationships change...." "That's true," he agreed. "It's like a rollercoaster. Going down is fast and easy, while going up seems tedious and slow. Yet you can't have any fun unless you mix the two together. Hang in there. I suspect you two will make amends before long." "That's sweet, Captain, but...." "Hey, everyone!" Tammy called out from her chosen spot in front of a radio sitting on the refreshment table. "The Nightcrawler just wished Detective Sakai a happy birthday!" Without waiting to be asked, she turned up the volume full blast. <<....So, dear Detective Sakai, as a new year of your existence begins, do you have a direction for your life? A plan to proceed? If so, ask yourself if it is truly a fruitful, clear path, and not one sure to be filled with potholes and pitfalls, ultimately doomed to disappointment. Something we should *all* consider in this season of nature's renewal. And remember, one and all, never to listen to the sounds within you, the sounds of silence which lead to nothing but the despair of loneliness. Instead, gentle friends, share your thoughts aloud, then listen and pay heed to the Nightcrawler, your guide in night's darkest moments....>> ------------------ THE END ------------------ A very special thanks to ALL who held my hand and gave me encouragement through the MANY rewrites this episode underwent as one target date after another slipped by (it was originally supposed to be a Christmas story)! "Sounds of Silence" is dedicated to all those who understand that being 'different,' no matter what that so-called 'difference' may be, is something to be cherished, not hated. After all, it is the very variety our world offers that makes life so exciting, surprising, and, most of all, worth experiencing. -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com.