Forgive Us Our Trespasses
Written 2010/2014
Posted January 2016
Jarvinia

This story starts late/post second season and before the third season.
It's quite long, and I'll spare too many details since many will be
revealed pretty quickly, I think. :)  High 'PG-13' rating for this one.

As always, FK and its characters are not mine, and no infringement or
harm was intended through borrowing the FK characters.  May not be
archived without permission--but do ask if you'd like to!

Thanks go to LisaNightOwl for the extensive beta that finally got this
posted.

Feedback (particularly dark chocolate...) gladly accepted at:
jarvinia@gmx.com

Enjoy!


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Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (001/111)

"Natalie, please," Nick protested as Natalie kissed him for a second
time that night...and he hadn't even gone in to work yet.  He couldn't
resist at first, then pushed her away along the morgue's counter, his
eyes turning gold with desire.

"Don't, Nick," she said, noticing he had changed.  He still bowed his
head slightly, just enough that she couldn't see his yellow eyes.
"Please don't look away."

Again Nick found himself responding to her words, her actions, and he
looked up to her inviting smile.  He didn't smile in return.  It took
all his strength to keep himself from taking her right then and there
and draining her.  And yet this also felt so right.  Over the last
several nights they had shared several similar kisses, and he wanted
more.  They both did.

Natalie went to kiss him again, but he held her back, a hair's breadth
separating their lips.  She gently pushed forward, against the hands on
her shoulders, but he didn't relent.

"There are only two ways this can end," he whispered, closing his eyes
and bowing his head.  Natalie's warm, sweet breath tempted him.  He
rested his forehead on hers, keeping the minuscule distance between them
from vanishing, not wanting to leave quite yet.  As it was, he had
already had to go to Janette once for blood after attempting to drown
himself in cow's blood a few nights previously.  He already knew he
would have to go to her again tonight.

"I've already told you--"

He shook his head, which stopped Natalie's response mid-sentence.  They
had indeed already had this conversation.  He had tried telling her this
was a bad idea, that they should stop, even though both of them felt it
would be inevitable.  In another few weeks or months, they would once
again be drawn toward one another.  And they both knew that--sooner or
later--Natalie would end up either dead or a vampire.  He didn't want
either outcome to come to pass, but it was more likely she would
die...and not necessarily by his hand.  There was LaCroix' anger to
consider, too.  Natalie had, of course, complicated his thoughts,
telling him that she didn't care, and that if she did end up a vampire,
they could look for a cure together.  Then she would have even more time
to help him, she had argued.  She had also explained that she would
prefer becoming like him to dying.  That scared him, yet somehow pleased
him.

Feeling him relax somewhat, probably lost in thought, Natalie pushed
forward and kissed him again, but not as deeply, just letting her lips
brush against his.  This time she felt him smile slightly when he pulled
back, and then she kissed him again rather deeply, her tongue brushing
past his lips and against his fangs.

For a moment he felt enthralled, completely controlled by his desperate
desire and now his more primal needs.  Then he pulled back, feeling an
overwhelming desire to sink his fangs into Natalie's neck.  Instead of
acting, he literally flew out of her light grasp.

Natalie simply stood there, stunned, for what felt like several minutes,
her eyes closed tight.  She knew she shouldn't have pushed him like
that, initiated more kisses than just the first.

A couple of days ago he had told her, rather emphatically, that he was
feeling barely in control around her if they did more than talk.  He had
also specified, in *very* clear terms, not to initiate anything or
return any actions, and tonight she certainly hadn't done as asked.  She
had also told him not to pull away like she had tonight.  She had even
suggested he should perhaps try drinking human blood to see if that
would help.

That suggestion had put an end to their previous conversation, their
argument, but he had at least agreed not to push her away, not to end
this right now.  And then tonight she had done exactly what he didn't
need--pushed his control as far as it would go.  She had known then what
the result would be.  Nick would undoubtedly have to go to Janette,
which was what she suspected he was doing right now.

Natalie took several slow deep breaths on her way to her desk, trying to
focus on work and put her worries out of her thoughts.  She failed
miserably, worrying whether she had been right to push him like that,
wondering if it would all fall apart and he would perhaps leave.  Maybe
before they could even talk again.

Then, half an hour later, right when her worry had finally abated enough
that she started to make progress on some paperwork, she heard the
morgue doors pushed loudly open.  It startled her.  Even more startling
were those who entered.

Cohen was there, with Schanke and another man she had never seen before.
She stood up, taken off guard most of all by Cohen.  She couldn't tell
whether the other woman was frustrated, angry, or confused herself.
Cohen rarely came to the morgue--particularly without calling.
"Captain--"

"Sit back down, Dr. Lambert."

She hesitated.  Cohen's sternness seemed unusually forced, and Natalie
glanced to the stranger.  He had to be the source of this.

"Nat, you, er, you really might want to sit down," Schanke whispered.

"Why?" she asked, glancing between the three.  Both Schanke and Cohen
remained somewhat stiff, but she watched the stranger send a clear glare
toward Schanke.  "What--"

Schanke stepped forward, away from the other two, and stopped next to
Natalie, whispering as he put a little pressure on her shoulder,
"Really, just...sit down."

Natalie pulled back and moved so that she stood behind her chair.  "What
is going on?" she demanded, her question pointed at Cohen and the
unknown man.

Cohen sighed.  She had expected Natalie to insist on an explanation; she
herself had reacted similarly when this had been explained to her
earlier that afternoon.  "Dr. Natalie Lambert, this is William Schmidt."

She watched the man set a medical bag on her desk, then hold out his
hand.  Hesitantly, she took and shook it.

"Mr. Schmidt could use your assistance with a special project tonight.
And we need to get started right now."

"An autopsy?" she asked, walking out and around Schanke while keeping
her attention on Schmidt.  "Are you RCMP?  FBI?"

"No.  No to all of the above."  Schmidt opened the bag and pulled out a
small, thin black object, no more than about a hand's length long and
two or three centimetres wide.  "Before I explain, if you could give me
your hand, I need to check you."

Natalie tried not to tense upon seeing the item.  It appeared to be some
sort of light, by the switch on one side.  "Check me?  For what?" she
asked, her tone a bit harsher than intended.

"It's okay, Nat," Schanke again whispered.

"No, it's not!  I want to know what is going on."

"Doctor...let him check you," Cohen half-ordered, her voice soft, but
imploring.  "Then you may ask your questions."

Hesitantly she again held her hand out.  The man turned the light on and
immediately she knew it was a black light, a modern Wood's lamp of some
sort by the violet-ish glow to the skin he held it over, but it was
unlike those she used in her work.  The light was far more focused; it
was enclosed, except the side facing her hand.  He held it there, a
couple of centimetres above her skin, for about fifteen seconds by her
guess.

"You're fine," Schmidt said upon releasing Natalie's hand and turning
the light off.  "Sorry, but everyone involved with this has to be
checked."

She almost asked again, 'Checked for what?' but she already knew.
Vampires.  This man was making sure she wasn't a vampire.  It was the
only medical condition she could think of that would definitively react
to his test in such a short period of time, assuming the device emitted
enough light in the lower part of the UVA range.  A vampire would burn,
no sunlight required.  In fact, if she had to guess, the device had been
made especially for this task...to test for vampires.  Granted, her
knowledge was biased, but standing there, waiting, she could think of
nothing else.  Then, her attention caught on the man's other words.
"Involved with what?  And, again, who are you?"

"The latter, I regret to say, I can't tell you...not yet.  And this is
going to be hard to explain...and even harder to believe," Schmidt
nervously started, then continued, "We need your help tonight with...you
might call it cataloguing."  When he only saw her confusion grow, he
rephrased, "We're making...a list.  The closest thing it would compare
to is a registration list."

"Making a list of what, exactly?  Or who?" Natalie countered, suspecting
but needing to hear the answer.

"Vampires," Cohen awkwardly clarified, the lone word coming out somewhat
uncertainly.

Natalie tensed further and shook her head slightly.  Was this some sort
of dream?  A vivid hallucination?  Cohen had just confirmed her
conclusion, but surely this couldn't be happening.  Vampires couldn't
have been discovered.  They had been, she thought, relegated firmly to a
place in mythology and fiction that only became more certain as
centuries passed.

Schmidt seemed to expect her disbelief, and fiddled in his bag again.
After a few seconds, he pulled out a vial of blood.  He pulled the top
off, then picked up the black light again, turning it on and holding it
next to the vial.  After ten to fifteen seconds the blood in the vial
started to literally boil and start to burn.  Once the blood began to
dry out and discolour, he turned the light off, put the cap back on the
vial, and handed it to Natalie.

She unwillingly took it.  The vial was still quite hot where the burnt
blood now was.  She knew that if he hadn't taken the top off before
exposing it to the ultraviolet light, that it would have shattered,
breaking from the boiling, disintegrating blood.  That's what had
happened when she put a vial of Nick's blood in sunlight the first time.
The blood inside had also boiled, burned, and then eventually turned to
ash...just like the blood in this vial.  It had to have come from a
vampire.  There was no question now that this man knew about vampires,
or whether what she was experiencing was real or a hallucination.

"Yes, that was blood, and it burned because it was from a vampire," he
explained.  "I promise you, they are real, and tonight we're going to
identify as many as we can."

"What?  How?" Natalie asked, incredulous.

"They congregate at specific locations in larger cities.  In Toronto
they seem to favour a night club called the Raven."

Natalie forced herself not to react, not to stiffen.  The Raven was
indeed a hot spot for vampires.  They certainly knew what they were
doing...or it certainly seemed that way.  "Who is in charge of all
this?"

"Nat--" Schanke started, but cut off when she glared at him.

"I want to know just who you are and whether what you plan to do is even
legal.  I don't want to be involved if--"

"What we are about to do has been sanctioned, Doctor," Cohen said.  "I
don't like it any more than you, but the Raven is in the 96th's
jurisdiction and I have been ordered to participate in this--the same as
everyone else involved.  And, I'm sorry, but we can't discuss this in
more detail here; we are on a timetable.  The Raven is not the only
location being...raided tonight."  When Schmidt shot her a glare, she
hardened her expression, knowing there was nothing he could do about her
purposeful slip.

Natalie watched the exchange until the man eventually looked away.  The
Raven--and Toronto--wasn't the only location...  She stiffened a little
at that, realising that this wouldn't impact only a few vampires, but
presumably the whole world.  Vampires were going to be exposed to the
world because of this.  There was no way around it. 

"But why do you need me?" she asked, shaking her head a little, unsure
why they had approached her specifically.

"We want to keep this among as few people as possible.  You were chosen
because you are the primary medical examiner for the Toronto Police
Department.  We have done the same in other cities.  Like your Captain
said, we are doing a coordinated operation tonight."

"But what if I don't want to do this?" Natalie asked again.  If she
could merely get out of leaving with them, she could warn the club.
"You're talking about--  If vampires exist--"

"They do," Schmidt said.  "Believe me, they do."

"--I can't see them liking, much less cooperating with, something that
could reveal them.  And if they're anything like the legends--"

"We realise this could potentially be dangerous, and subsequently we
have taken some precautions," the stranger again spoke.  "But if you're
worried you or someone else could be hurt...I won't deny that is a
possibility."

Cohen stepped forward when Natalie started to protest again.  "I'm
sorry, Dr. Lambert, but this isn't a request.  You and six detectives
have been assigned to this operation tonight, and you cannot be
replaced."

"Yes, because we're missing one of those detectives," Schmidt replied,
somewhat upset and uncomfortable.

"It's not like Knight to simply not show up," Cohen explained.  "Not
without some clear reason."

Natalie winced, then was glad no one was presently looking at her.
Nick's absence at the precinct was her fault.  If he hadn't made it to
work yet, then he was probably at the Raven.  The very location this man
was targeting.

"But it means it's more important than ever for you to be part of this.
It also means you'll have to be involved tonight, and to a greater
extent than originally planned.  We need another set of hands, and with
your background and training, you're the obvious choice."

"I don't have the training for what I think you're proposing.  Frankly,
I doubt anyone does.  How could they?" she finished with a shrug.

Schmidt ignored the comment.  "You and the detectives you'll be working
with have more appropriate training for this than I do.  Tonight you'll
be paired with one of the detectives; like it or not, you don't have the
option of refusing.  You weren't even supposed to be included in this
until later tonight, but we had to change the plan and bring you in
earlier.  And I'm sorry, but we have got to leave now.  I'll explain
more on the way."  He packed up his bag and left.

Natalie glanced toward her phone, wishing she could warn those at the
club.  This didn't sound at all good.  Before she could act, she felt a
hand on her shoulder.

"Do you know where Nick is?" Schanke asked.  "Schmidt's really upset
that he's AWOL."

"Ah, no, I haven't seen him since last night," she lied.  Then she
asked, "Does he know about this?" even though she knew he didn't.  He
would have said something earlier if he had.  More likely, he wouldn't
have even come by.

"No.  Didn't know squat until my shift started half an hour ago and this
got dumped on us.  Nick was supposed to find out then, same time as the
rest of us.  Even Cohen just found out this afternoon, I think."

Cohen nodded.  "They wanted to make sure there was no chance of this
leaking.  Grab your things quickly, Doctor, and meet us in the car."

"What do I need to bring?  Can I bring my medical bag?  I mean this
sounds...dangerous.  If someone gets hurt and--"

"You could...although you really should be asking Schmidt.  Bring
anything else you might need for the remainder of the night; you might
not be returning here before you go home."

As Cohen left and Natalie reached for her purse, coat, and her medical
bag, Schanke leaned over and whispered, "Crazy, isn't it?  Vampires...
Although, honestly, I always thought that club was...  Well, I can't say
I'm really surprised, if you know what I mean?"

She didn't answer, starting silently toward the door.

"And, Nat, I--" he stopped speaking when they entered the hall and found
Cohen and Schmidt waiting for them.  "Never mind."

Natalie tensed at the abruptly halted question, sure it had to be
something about Nick.  Did Schanke know?  Did he have a guess, a
suspicion about Nick?  Had he said anything to Cohen or Schmidt about
his eccentric partner?  Again, she said nothing as they all got into
Schanke's car.  Cohen sat up front, leaving her to sit in the back with
Schmidt.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

As the vehicle approached the Raven and stopped, Natalie felt quite
anxious when she spotted Nick's car parked across the street.  He had
indeed gone to the Raven after leaving the morgue.  Even worse, he was
apparently still inside.

Cohen nodded toward the Caddy and told Schmidt, "Looks like you won't be
one detective short, after all.  That's Knight's car."

"Detective Knight frequents this club?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"An informant of his does," Natalie quickly replied.  Neither Schanke
nor Cohen contradicted her, and she watched Schmidt's anxiety drop a
little.

"Then you can retrieve him when we enter," he said to Schanke.  "Explain
it to him as we go."

Schanke nodded, but turned a little green at the task of corralling and
updating his partner.

"We move in once everyone is in place.  And while you can bring that in
with you," he said, nodding to Natalie's medical bag, "you'll have to
leave it by the entrance."

Natalie closed her eyes, thinking about the plan and fingering the items
on her lap: A black light like Schmidt tested her with, a simple set of
metal calipers, a clipboard, and a pen.  She would be performing the
same test that she had been subjected to, then gathering further
information on any individuals who tested positive. 
 
She didn't think much of this plan.  It could go so very wrong, despite
the precautions Schmidt's people planned to implement.  She had doubts
whether or not some of those precautions would even work, and felt
certain that others were more for show.  More than anything, his plan
depended upon them remaining in control, which would only happen if no
one outright panicked.  No vampire would like what they were doing.  She
couldn't help but worry Janette might go for Schmidt...and possibly get
herself killed.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (002/111)

In the Raven's office, Nick held LaCroix against the door and fed from
him for the second time since arriving at the club.  The first time, the
door to the room had barely shut before he seized the other man from
behind, striking him high on the neck.  After the taste of his sire's
rich blood and the dark thoughts it contained, he had been little better
off than before.  It had taken LaCroix another twenty minutes--and
several glasses of human blood for each of them--to convince him to feed
from him again.

Upon feeling the elder man weaken, he finally felt himself calm.  He
ceased feeding, but didn't pull away.  His weight was still on his
hands, pressed up against the door on either side of LaCroix' shoulders,
and his head still bowed over the two sets of wounds in his sire's neck.

"Better?" LaCroix breathed, pleased that his son had turned to him in
his need.

Nick opened his eyes and lifted his head.  "Much better," he whispered.
"Thank you."  Slowly he pushed away from the door and turned away.

"It was nothing, mon fils.  You know you can always come to me."

Turning back, Nick clarified, "Thank you for not taunting me, LaCroix."

Initially, LaCroix stiffened, but then seeing a slight smile on the
younger man's lips, he relaxed and nodded.  Pushing away from the door,
he refastened the collar of his shirt.

Nick flinched upon realising that his first bite wasn't even remotely
hidden; others would surely see it.  "I'm sorry, it's--"

"It's fine.  Let the young ones wonder.  I don't care."  He stepped
forward, spying a few drops of blood near the corner of his son's lips.
Licking his finger, he quickly smudged the blood away, then licked his
own smeared blood off his finger.  "You must be presentable for work,
yes?  If I am correct, you must be quite late by now."

"Yeah, probably."  Nick licked his lips in case any other drops
remained, then waited while LaCroix walked back to the door and opened
it.

He followed the other man back into the club, spying Janette in front of
the bar.  She had been concerned when he had taken LaCroix' offer
instead of her own, but she relaxed as he approached.  He gave her a
quick kiss on her cheek before starting for the exit.

Next thing he knew, a bright flash of light from the entrance startled
him.  It stung his eyes, and it took a few seconds before he was able to
see anything.

Upon turning more fully toward the entrance, what Nick saw confused him.
There stood six people, of which he knew all but one: Cohen, Schanke,
Natalie, two other detectives from the 96th precinct who he thought
worked days, and an unknown man in his early forties.  But the confusion
had more to do with two video cameras that were pointing at the
room...and the lights that the flash had come from.

"What are they doing, Nicolas?  Those horrid lights...and they have
cameras recording us!" Janette harshly whispered from behind her
brother.

Nick didn't answer, his eyes settling on Natalie.  She looked absolutely
terrified, and he stepped forward without thinking, only for another
bright flash of light to momentarily blind him again.  He found it hard
to prevent his eyes from changing.  Once his vision returned to normal,
he realised he was not the only one who had moved slightly forward.

The normally raucous music of the nightclub had abruptly halted as the
intruders, their cameras, and their lights commanded the attention of
the surprised patrons.  A small bank of spotlights was aimed their way
in curiosity, while the crowd gathered in confusion, irate at the
unwelcome guests.

"May I have your attention, please?  Everyone, may I have your
attention?"  Schmidt waited a moment for most of the hubbub to die down.
"We have blocked all of the exits," he declared authoritatively through
a small bull-horn from the top of the stairs near the entrance.  "If you
pass a simple test, you may leave without question.  If you don't, you
will give your name and some other information first...and then you will
also be free to leave."

Various comments rose from the crowd as they expressed their outrage and
confusion.

Schmidt raised a hand, and the crowd quieted enough that he lowered the
bull-horn.  "I know you all want to leave.  And I don't blame you.  But
we have our orders, and yes, this is a government-sanctioned operation,"
he assured them.  "The test only takes a few seconds, and no one may
leave without taking it.  The faster you choose to get this over with,
the sooner you can leave, all right?"

The patrons grumbled quietly to themselves and their neighbours, but no
one yelled out.

Schmidt raised his hands in front of him, turning on a black light with
one hand and holding it over his other hand for several seconds, then
flipped the light off.  "This is all we want.  Everyone present will be
tested.  No exceptions.  If you pass, you can leave immediately.  If
not, we want some additional information before you leave, which will
only take a few moments."

Nick pulled back ever so slightly at the demonstration and statement--so
did over half of the club's occupants.  It was a Friday night,
attracting many non-regulars to the club, vampire and mortal alike.
Over the hushed whispers and conversations, Nick heard Schanke hissing
his name, calling him toward the entrance.

Nick hesitated until he saw Cohen's icy glare.  He felt the eyes of many
of the vampires in the room following him, watching to see if he would
be tested and what he would do.  Reaching his partner, who was now at
the bottom of the stairs, along with Natalie and one of the other
detectives, he was pulled forcefully off to the side.

"Why didn't you make it in to work?"

"I wanted to talk to someone first."  Then, whispering, he demanded,
"What is going on?  Why are you here?  Who is--"  Nick stopped, feeling
Natalie jab her elbow into his back.  Turning, he asked her, "What is
this about?"

She turned somewhat, then, as quietly as she could, answered, "We're
here to test for vampires."

He tried to turn more, only to find Schanke had grabbed his arm.
Natalie had just said...and Schanke hadn't reacted in the slightest.  He
did look a little pale, though.

"Nick, we're--"

"What are they trying to do?" Nick asked, cutting his partner off.  He
could feel the nervousness of both the mortals and vampires, the latter
of which had surely heard Natalie's answer.  When the lights switched
from the club lights to plain white overhead lights, he saw that
nervousness intensify.

"Compile a list of all the vampires present in the club; that's all he
told us," answered Natalie.  "I'm not sure even Cohen knows much more."

At that point, two women backed into the main part of the club from the
back entrance.  One was hissing, fangs bared.  The other tried to calm
the frightened vampiress, who appeared to have a burn on her face, and
pulled her to the back of those present and keep her out of sight.  The
disturbance rattled every occupant, despite that most of everyone's
attention had been on the front entrance.

"Please remain where you are," Schmidt repeated.  "Once you have been
checked, you may leave.  All of you.  Except the owner of the club--they
will need to remain."  He started down the stairs with Cohen close
behind him, only to stop when a woman approached them.

"I am the owner of this club...whoever you are," Janette said, stopping
when her eyes caught movement at the doors; a uniformed officer.  More
was going on than met the eye, like those wretched lights...  "What is
the purpose of this invasion of my club?  Under what authority have you
come in here, disrupted--"

"Please co-operate with us, Ms. DuCharme," Schmidt said, causing Janette
and many others to stiffen.  "For now, we cannot answer your questions,
but I will again say that this is authorised.  Neither you nor any
occupant of this club will be detained longer than necessary.  Everyone
may leave once they submit to the simple test I demonstrated."

Janette held back her anger.  This man's 'simple' test wasn't that
simple to her eyes...nor to many of the night's patrons.  She averted
her gaze, her eyes settling unconsciously on her brother and his mortal
friend.  Natalie appeared nervous, terrified even; so did Nick, but he
ever so slightly nodded, looking right back at her.  She didn't like
this, but knew he was right; it would be better to cooperate.  She
stiffly turned, her eyes drifting over the frightened gazes on her.  "Do
as they say," she said, then almost angrily returned to where she had
been standing near the bar, close to, but not right next to, LaCroix.

Nick unconsciously took a step back when the man resumed his approach
toward him, half expecting to be checked right there with the light.

"Detective Knight?"

He nodded.

"Have you been filled in?"

"Vaguely."

"Good."  Turning to Schanke, Schmidt ordered, "Work with Detective
Briggs, starting from the other side."  Then he turned back to Nick and
Natalie.  "Dr. Lambert, have Knight assist you, starting with the man by
the bar with the bite wound.  Check Knight sometime, too."

Natalie nervously nodded and turned to look for who Schmidt was talking
about.  She had a horrible feeling she knew who the man was--LaCroix.
He was whispering to Janette and looking in her and Nick's direction
with narrowed eyes.  Suddenly she felt herself being pulled sideways by
her arm.

"What exactly am I assisting with?" Nick asked.

"That light test, taking the names of any vampires, and I think you know
what these are for," she said, holding up the calipers.

He eyed the metal measuring device.  She had once measured his fangs
with an almost identical device--both their length and the distance
between them.

"If that's LaCroix, and I think it is, then you can do that part," she
whispered, feeling herself pushed forward just as she said the name of
Nick's sire.  Approaching further, she felt the man's eyes bore through
her.  Then, once they stopped, Nick forcibly prevented her from hanging
back.  She looked into the ancient vampire's eyes for a few seconds
before diverting her gaze slightly downward, more at his jaw, to avoid
seeing the prominent gold shining back at her.  This was not at all how
she wanted to meet LaCroix.  And what would he do to her after she
burned him and this forced meeting was over?  When Nick didn't say a
word, she hesitantly glanced back at LaCroix and said, "H-hold out your
hand."

"I will not!"

Nick tried to rein in his anger and whispered, "Just do it, LaCroix!
Cohen wouldn't be here if this wasn't authorised, probably by the mayor
or--"

"Do they know about us?" Janette asked, wanting to know for certain.

"Yes," Natalie replied.

"You did this," LaCroix hissed again, his eyes locked on the mortal.

"No, I didn't.  And this isn't only happening here, I'm sure of it.
Cohen mentioned earlier that the Raven wasn't the only target, and the
man who spoke...he said something about this being a coordinated
operation.  This could be nationwide...or even worldwide," Natalie
whispered, her eyes sliding toward Nick, whose eyes widened at that
statement.  Resigned to performing the task at hand, she once more
focused on LaCroix.  "Just...hold your hand out.  Please?"

Again LaCroix refused, but Janette moved in, her body shielding most of
their activity from the mortals as she held her hand out, palm up.  "Get
it over with."

Natalie clenched her jaw, then pulled the black light in front of her.
"Turn your hand over," she whispered, and she watched Nick forcibly flip
it into position when the vampiress hesitated.  Once Nick's hand was out
of the way, she activated the specialised black light over the back of
Janette's hand.  Almost immediately she watched the other woman's hand
jerk slightly in pain, but the vampiress kept her hand under the light
until it started to burn.  Natalie quickly turned the device off and
pulled her own hand back.  "I'm sorry."
 
Janette gingerly held her hand closer, careful not to let anything touch
the burn.  "It's fine.  It's minor," she whispered, not looking up.

"I, er," Natalie paused and glanced down at the clipboard.  "I need to
ask your name.  Your present name."

"You already--"

"Play along, Janette!" Nick hissed, his words nearly inaudible to
Natalie next to him, but clear to any vampire within a good twenty feet:
They all drew back slightly.  "The best course of action is to just play
along," he said in a quieter, calmer tone.

"Playing along is not my instinct--nor yours, nor anyone
else's...including the mortals.  They're panicked, Nicolas..."

"No, they're not.  They're more angry than anything," he pointed out.
"Now, answer Natalie's question so we can move on.  The sooner everyone
leaves, the better."

The vampiress took in a deep breath, then finally answered, "Janette
DuCharme.  Anything else?"

Writing the name down, Natalie looked up and saw that Janette's eyes now
also had the beginnings of gold flecks.  Frankly, she didn't blame her
for reacting, but it made her all the more nervous.  "Ah..."  She put
her pen down and then shoved the calipers into Nick's hand.  "You do
it."

"Do what?" Janette said, drawing back slightly.

"Yeah, do what, exactly?" Nick asked, her comment earlier not telling
him exactly what needed to be measured.

"Measure the distance between the centre of each canine.  Take it either
point to point, or you might have to average it," Natalie whispered
back.  She hated having to say all of this aloud.  It felt like she was
being listened to, and she could now feel far more eyes than LaCroix'
and Janette's on her.  "Only down to the millimetre."

"It could be much worse," Nick said when he felt and saw hints of fear
from not only Janette, but LaCroix and the others.  He lowered his voice
a little more and added, "At least they're not asking for a DNA sample."

"Yet," Janette said, then closed her eyes, not liking this, but
realising that she had no choice.  And she, at least, had nothing to
hide.  "Fine," she said, opening her eyes and glaring at her brother.
"Quickly, Nicolas."  She let him use the device, but cringed when she
felt a slight bit of pressure on her canines, which nearly made them
descend.

"Thirty-one millimetres," he said, and Natalie wrote the number down.

Natalie turned back to LaCroix, whose eyes were now solid gold.  He
looked ready to kill.  "Please hold your hand out," she said, taking
hold of the black light again, but again he didn't comply.  In fact, he
moved further away, as though he were the one frightened of her, rather
than the other way around.  She didn't understand what his problem was.
He appeared ready to bolt, which, from what little she knew about him,
seemed blatantly uncharacteristic.  Whatever the case, she wasn't about
to try and forcibly use the light on him, and so she simply stood there,
waiting.

"Just...give it to me," Nick said.

"What?" Natalie asked, distracted, not sure she had heard right, but
then she felt the device pulled from her hand.  She watched Nick grab
LaCroix' right hand with his left, appearing to half-crush his sire's
fingers, then flipped the light on near the back of LaCroix' wrist.  His
skin burned faster than Janette's, and Nick quickly turned the light off
and pulled his left hand out of the way.

"Lucien LaCroix," Janette supplied somewhat unnecessarily; Natalie had
already started writing his name down.

Next, Natalie focused on the wound on LaCroix' neck, while Nick
whispered something unintelligible to LaCroix that somehow convinced him
to open his mouth.

"Thirty-four," Nick said, then backed away.

"Nick, you have to measure the wounds, too.  The middle of the marks."

LaCroix closed his eyes, turning his head as his son leaned over him.

"Thirty-five."

Natalie faltered as she wrote the number down.  Thirty-five millimetres
was, if she remembered correctly, the distance between Nick's fangs.  So
it had been LaCroix, not Janette, to whom Nick had gone.

"May I leave now?" LaCroix asked, leaning forward toward the mortal, raw
disdain clearly evident in his voice.

"Yes," she answered.

LaCroix moved around her and Nick and started for the exit.  He was
stopped by the detective near the entrance only long enough to show his
hands--and the remnants of the burn--then he was gone.

Natalie turned to the next person to the right, holding out her right
hand to retrieve the black light from Nick.

"It'll be faster if I do it, Nat.  I'll be careful."

Natalie reluctantly nodded, then they went on to the next person,
another vampire.  She was thankful that those who remained were more
cooperative.  They almost acted afraid of Nick, and she wasn't sure why.
Was it because Janette and LaCroix had complied and they were merely
following by example?  Or because he had forced LaCroix?  Or because he
continued to use the ultraviolet light, despite that the tips of his
fingers were now burnt?  Or because they had overheard their
conversation?  Or maybe that everyone did seem to be free to leave...
Whatever the case, those who remained appeared to be perfectly willing
to get a mild burn, give their names, and rather uncomfortably have
their teeth measured, in return for the permission to leave the club.
Most hesitated at the last, but all rather miraculously allowed it
without too much goading.

For all those after Janette and LaCroix, Nick and Natalie had also
deliberately asked them to stand with their backs to the rest of the
crowd.  They stood in front of their subjects, and attempted to shield
their testing from the patrons at large in an attempt to prevent any of
the mortals from putting the clues together and starting a panic.  Of
the next twenty people they tested, all but one were vampires.  The
mortals were mostly on the other side of the room, the side Schanke and
Briggs had started from.  So far every single person that team had
tested had been mortal, primarily because the vampires on that side had
slunk slowly to the back, while the mortals had remained in place, not
really understanding what was happening.  They simply wanted to be
tested and leave...and leave they did.

The mortals quickly passed the test, although they hadn't the faintest
idea what the test was even for, and thoroughly confused, they exited at
a much faster pace than the vampires.  Inevitably, the number of mortals
dwindled.

Soon Briggs shown the light on a vampire, who had been less prepared
than those Nick and Natalie had tested.  He and Schanke jumped back when
the man snarled at them and pulled his hand back before it had burned.
Schanke didn't really know what to do, although for the first time that
night everything was no longer theory and hearsay, but suddenly very
real.  Vampires really were real.

Nick and Natalie stopped at the disturbance, and most of those present
watched the scared vampire try to keep Schanke and Briggs at bay.  No
one approached; not any of the other vampires or patrons...not that
there were many patrons left who *weren't* vampires.  Miraculously, the
man hadn't fully changed.  His fangs had descended momentarily, but his
eyes remained a frightened, but clear, blue.  As a result, the few
remaining mortals still didn't know what was going on.  Not really.

Schanke didn't back away after the initial shock, but Briggs did.  He
backed away until he bumped into Schmidt, who had begun to approach.

"Switch with Knight.  He and Dr. Lambert are getting more cooperation."

Nick heard, and again commanded under his breath to the vampires closest
by, "Cooperate!  All of you!" before Briggs approached, the black light
still in his hand.

"Knight--"

"Go work with Schanke.  Yeah, I heard."  Nick crossed the room, not sure
things would go much better with the scared young vampire with him than
his fellow detective.  With Schanke he wouldn't be able to whisper
comments to those being tested, something he could do with Natalie.

"Want me to do that, Knight?" Schanke asked, eyeing the light in his
partner's hand.  "With your--"

"I'm fine," he replied, trying not to show his annoyance.  True, the
tips of his fingers were starting to sting and burn, but for the most
part, he was doing fine with it.  He was thankful the light was focused
out the bottom of the device; it meant his fingers were only bathed in
indirect light, and he had gotten better at holding it closer to the
back.  LaCroix' blood had also helped, strengthening him and slightly
diminishing his reaction to the light.  For now.

"Now what do we do?" Schanke asked, watching the snarling vampire in
front of him.  The man was no calmer than moments before.  In fact, he
was starting to see something in the man's eyes.  "I really, *really*
don't want to shoot him.  Thinking that's a bad idea..."

Nick stepped closer, trying to pretend to be hesitant, which wasn't
difficult because his partner's comment made him a bit nervous.  Shoot
him?  He knew for a fact that would be a very bad idea.  Focusing on the
vampire, he reasoned, "The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you may
leave," but it only helped calm the vampire a little.  It did not
convince him to work with them.  "We won't use the light again; you may
leave after you tell us your name and allow the measurements."

It took several seconds before the man considered the words and finally
cooperated, gave his name, then reluctantly submitted to the last
requirement.  From seeing Janette out of the corner of his eye, Nick
suspected it had been her approach that had spurred the young man to
finally relax.  And if not for her reassuring presence, the other
vampire probably would have flown to the nearest exit the moment he
finished the test.

Nick quickly went on to the next person, another vampire, this time a
woman.  By now there were only a couple of mortals left, and soon even
they were gone.

In another ten minutes, the club was empty except for the detectives,
Natalie, Cohen, Schmidt, and a clearly annoyed Janette.  The vampiress
stiffened as the mortals surrounded her.

"We must search the building for anyone else that might still be here,"
Schmidt said.

Janette's eyes narrowed slightly.  "No, you won't!  I forbid--"

"I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice."  Schmidt calmly reached into
his jacket pocket, withdrew a folded piece of paper, which he then
handed to the vampiress.

Janette almost tore it from his hands, then stiffened as she read it.  A
search warrant, permitting this further intrusion.  At least it only
pertained to any individuals who might still be in the club, but she
didn't want this mortal snooping.  The very specific terms of the search
informed her that the person who had issued this warrant knew exactly
what would happen tonight at the Raven.

"Detectives Schanke, Knight--search the basement and back rooms,"
Schmidt said when the vampiress went quiet.

"They will not!" she nearly yelled, letting her eyes turn gold and fangs
descend, not caring what these mortals saw, and tired of holding her
anger in.  "You will not hurt them!"

"Them?" Schanke asked nervously, realising the club wasn't as empty as
it appeared.  He also didn't like the idea of going into a basement with
frightened vampires...and all the wine that he doubted was wine anymore.

"*I* will get your information from them if you deem it necessary,"
Janette curtly interrupted.

Schmidt considered the suggestion, tilting his head a little, then said,
"Pick someone to take with you.  Return quickly.  And know that whoever
you choose will be questioned later, and that they better not be
harmed."

Janette glanced first to Nick, then changed her mind and turned to
Natalie.  "The woman.  I will ensure she is not...harmed."

Schmidt turned to Natalie.

"It's fine," she said, then somewhat hesitantly left with Janette.

Once the two were gone, Schmidt said, "Detectives Knight, Schanke,
search the office and connecting apartment."

"For what?" Schanke asked.

"Anyone hiding."

Schanke nodded, then started toward what he knew was an office of some
sort.

Nick didn't immediately follow, seeing where they heading.  He knew the
office was empty.  He and LaCroix had just left when this had all
started, and the club's patrons knew it was off limits.  He waited at
the door while Schanke checked the room, then led his partner to the
apartment with little hesitation.

Heading up the stairs, Nick opened the door to Janette's home.  Like the
office, he knew no one was up here.  No one would dare enter unless they
had permission...even with what had happened.

After turning the light on and starting to scan the room, Schanke asked,
"Did you know what she was?  Janette?  She's who you came here to talk
to, right?  Or whatever you do with her.  Obviously you know your way
around up here."

Nick didn't immediately answer.  He wished he knew if he would be
formally tested...if he'd be revealed as a vampire before the night was
out.  If he was, what would he do?  What did Janette and LaCroix plan to
do, now that they had been revealed as vampires?  What would the mortals
do to them?

"Nick?" Schanke called, watching his partner go down a short hall,
absently looking into another room.

Again he didn't reply, starting to wonder if Schanke realised he was
like Janette--that he was also a vampire.

"And wasn't that first guy that psycho you listen to on the radio?
Guess that explains a lot about him, at least.  Of course he's one of
them, with that whacked-out radio show of his."

Schanke checked the rest of the apartment, but it was empty.  Rather
clean, especially the kitchen, and a bit eccentrically decorated, but no
one was hiding.  It didn't surprise him.  "Find anything?" he asked when
his partner returned.

"No," Nick answered, happy that Schanke had dropped his questions, and
he led the way back down the stairs to the club.

Janette and Natalie had apparently just returned, and Schmidt was
holding both of the clipboards.  Janette stood behind the bar and glared
at the two detectives as they walked toward the others.

"We'll have to test you, too, Knight.  Everyone else was tested before
we came," Schmidt said.

"Waste of time, if you ask me.  After all, he's been using that light
for nearly an hour already, and his hand is still fine," Schanke stated,
defensive.

"And he pretty much tested himself when he--" Natalie started, but
stopped both to avoid mentioning LaCroix' name and because Schmidt
raised his hands.

"Hold your hands out, then."

Nick slightly hesitated.  He knew the burn from when he had tested
LaCroix had long since healed, but he wasn't sure about the tips of his
fingers on his right hand, the hand he had been holding the light in.
He held his hands out and kept calm, watching the mortal examine them in
the moderately bright light.  The man somewhat squinted at the end of
his right ring finger, but passed it off.

"Seems fine.  No burns.  Good."

Nick put his hands down, feeling relieved and grateful for both
Natalie's and Schanke's protests.  He didn't particularly want to be
labelled a vampire, not yet when he didn't know what would come of this.

"Detective Flanagan," Schmidt said, rounding on Briggs' partner, "gather
everything up and let's all meet back at the 96th."  He headed toward
the entrance of the soon-to-be empty club, taking both cameras with him,
even before the young detective had caught up to him.

"Schanke, I'm going to ride back with Nick," Natalie said, catching his
arm when he also started to head for the entrance.  Then, once he had
left, she turned to Nick and noticed his attention was on Janette.
"Nick?  We should head back."

He turned to Natalie, nearly telling her 'Not yet,' but then nodded.  He
couldn't talk to Janette right now without possibly raising questions.
It was bad enough he suspected he'd be getting some questions later on
about why he was at the club.  Especially when those lists were tallied
and the ratio of vampires to mortals was determined.  Even more so if
they realised it was Janette and LaCroix who he had been with.

Feeling a hand on his elbow, Nick brushed away his thoughts, nodded a
second time, then started after the others.  He and Natalie paused at
the door while she gathered her things, and then they stepped out onto
the street.  The cool night air made him feel better.  Or it did until
he noticed many eyes staring at him.  None of the mortals seemed to
notice, but several of the vampires that had left hadn't gone very far
and were now watching them.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (003/111)

Nick and Natalie had gotten into the Caddy without speaking.  Only once
he had pulled out into traffic did he ask, "What else did they tell you
before coming?"

"Er," she started, trying to remember if she'd left anything out.  "Not
much.  I think I got the short version--I don't think I would even have
been included yet if you hadn't been...missing.  The man was introduced
as William Schmidt, but I don't know who he works for."

"But what he--what we--did tonight was authorised?"

"Yes, although I don't know the details.  But Cohen backed him up and
she looked rather...helpless, like she had no say in this.  Literally
about a half hour after you left, they came in, told me to sit down, did
that light test, then--"  She stopped, taking in a quick, half breath.
She had almost forgotten.  "While telling me about vampires, trying to
alleviate my disbelief, Schmidt pulled out a vial of vampire blood, and
he put it under the black light for proof.  And I do know he's not RCMP
or FBI."

Nick tensed.  As a means of exposing vampires, this man's method had
appeared fairly benign, but having a vial of vampire blood...  That
changed things.

"Which means, well, either they are working with a vampire, or they are
presently or have been holding one for tests.  They had to come up with
the UV light test through tests on live subjects."

"Anything else?"

"I never told you, but the light test was actually only fifteen seconds.
Apparently, if you withstood that, you passed.  I think it let someone
through, though."

"Yeah--me."

"No, you haven't really been tested, at least not by the standard
procedure.  There was someone else, a man.  Something about him reminded
me a bit of Janette.  He winked at me when I said he could leave."

Nick frowned, wondering who it could be.  "What did he look like?"

"Er, shoulder-length brown hair, goatee--"

"Feliks."  He smiled, turning away from the road for a second.  "He has
an indoor greenhouse full of plants--and plant lights.  He probably has
a higher tolerance to UV lights than most of us by now.  Although why he
would be at the Raven..."  He faded into his own thoughts at that.
Feliks rarely associated with other vampires, beyond providing his
financial prowess.  And usually his clients came to him, rather than the
other way around.

Natalie was a bit surprised a vampire would or even could handle that,
but her attention turned back to Nick, remembering that he had shown his
hands to Schmidt.  He really hadn't had any clear, obvious burns, which
quite frankly surprised her.  "How come your hands didn't burn more?"

He stiffened, keeping his focus on the road.  He hadn't wanted to
discuss it, but knew she would have made the connection.  He remembered
the distance between his canines, and he was sure Natalie did, too.
"LaCroix' blood.  If I hadn't taken so much of his blood, and so
recently, I'm sure I would have burned worse.  If I hadn't fed from him,
he might have even passed the light test."  Then, while he had already
dug himself in that hole, he figured a deeper hole couldn't be much
worse.   "I...took his blood twice, and we each drank roughly half a
bottle of blood in between.  Human blood."

Although a bit surprised at the last, she was at least pleased he had
told her, even if it wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear.  It also
sounded like feeding from LaCroix may have helped keep him from being
found out.  That had to be a good thing, right?  At least until they
knew why this was being done.  Then, faintly, she smiled.  "Is that why
LaCroix was so uncooperative?"

"Probably.  He was quite...hungry, I think.  The light they flashed on
us and the ultraviolet light would have hurt more because of that, too."

"The flashed light hurt?" she quickly asked.  It hadn't bothered her
much at all, or no more than any other bright flash of light, and she
had been quite close to it the first time, almost looking at it.

"Yeah, it stung my eyes a bit.  I couldn't see much of anything for
three or four seconds, I'd guess."  Seeing concern, he added, "I'm sure
it was just normal light, Nat.  Our eyes don't easily adjust to
unexpected flashes like that.  Something else they apparently know."

For a couple of minutes neither spoke.  Then, after they pulled into the
precinct parking lot and he had parked the Caddy, Nick asked, "Do you
have any idea what's next?  Or what the cameras were for?  Other than
to--"

"Discourage you from reacting?" she finished.  "I think that was their
main purpose.  To make you think and not react violently.  Some
uniformed officers were also stationed out front; I'm not sure they knew
what was going on, though.  Cohen is the one who spoke to them...I think
they were more for show."

"I didn't see any--"

"They were only there at the start.  I doubt they stayed the whole
time...just long enough for those inside to catch a glimpse of them."

Nick stared forward, wondering what else he had missed.  "Did Janette
say anything to you when you went with her?"

"No, but I got a good look at that warrant."

"And?"

"And it is most definitely real.  The word 'vampire' was even included
on it.  But that means--"

"That means more people know about this," he finished. "A lot more."

"I know.  The judge who signed the warrant, probably some or all of the
police commission, the city mayor, and the provincial and federal
government...  And no, I have no idea what's next.  I take it even Cohen
didn't know anything at all about this until this afternoon, and I've
already told you everything I was told."

He turned off the ignition, but didn't pull his keys out or open his
door.  "Schanke said something about not wanting to shoot him--the
vampire who reacted badly.  Why--"

"The other detectives were all given wooden bullets, I think.  And
Briggs, his partner, and the two detectives who went to the back of the
club, also had tasers."

"They would have taken out anyone who got out of line," he guessed, his
tone lowering, anger creeping into his voice.  But the tasers explained
the panicked vampiress who had backed into the club, and perhaps some of
the other patrons' fear.

"I'm not surprised, not with how much they seem to know.  On the bright
side, I haven't heard Schmidt talk about vampires maliciously.  But--"

"You just met him."

"Yeah," she nodded.  "And I have no idea what he said to any of the
others, or what they intend to do with the information we collected."

Seeing his partner pull into the parking lot, Nick finally got out.  He
and Natalie walked quickly toward the door, but both came to a stop upon
seeing Schanke rushing toward them.

"Hey, Wonderboy!"  When his partner didn't turn around right away, he
repeated, "Nick, wait up."

Nick winced, but turned.  He didn't particularly like that nickname,
especially not right now.  He didn't need Schmidt to wonder any more
about him than he probably already would.

"Er," Schanke started, then hesitated at his partner's glare.  "You two
are supposed to go to Interview Room One and wait for Schmidt."

"What for?"

"Probably the other test; piece of cake.  Just, er, sit back when he
tells you to, even though I'd bet good money you two will...well, you'll
see.  See you in a few."

Nick stared after his partner, who headed in in front of them.  Another
test?  "Nat?"

"No idea," she said, shaking her head and following after Schanke.

Five minutes later, Schmidt entered Interview Room One loudly, startling
Natalie.  Seeing both of them sitting down, he said, "Good, good.  Now,
lean back in the chair a bit--don't lean forward at all.  This will only
take--literally--a few seconds."

They both did as instructed and watched the man fiddle with a CD player.
Then, when Schmidt struck a particular button, Nick frowned at the
sudden strange noise.  After a few seconds, he looked to Natalie, who
had for a second seemed a bit blank, but then she too seemed to be
trying to figure out what she was listening to, and her attention also
strayed from the speakers.

Schmidt hit 'stop' and his face lit up in excitement.  "Excellent!  I
thought perhaps you, Dr. Lambert, would pass, but both of you barely
even reacted.  Absolutely excellent!  Both of you are apparently
immune."

At that, Nick knew what the test was about.  Neither of them had
reacted...because he was a vampire and Natalie a resistor.  Yet another
thing they had learned about their targets.

"Immune to--" she started to ask, but stopped when she realised the same
thing Nick had.

"The vampires' manipulation of our thoughts.  If you weren't immune,
you'd both have fallen asleep."  Still obviously thrilled at their lack
of reaction, he said, "Now, head on over to Conference Room Two.  I'll
be there once I make some copies."

Nick's eyes were caught by the folder Schmidt waved at them, and he knew
it had to be the lists they had made at the Raven.  Glancing at Natalie
and seeing her attention also caught by the folder, he gently rested his
hand on her back and urged her toward the door, saying, "Come on, Nat."

She nodded and, after a few steps, walked normally out of the room and
to the conference room indicated.  Inside, she found the others,
including the two detectives she hadn't seen before, the two who had
guarded the back door of the Raven.  They were from the 27th precinct.

"So, either of you pass out?" Schanke asked upon seeing them.  "I ended
up crashing to the floor...not that I remember it.  All I remember is
being shook awake after..."

Nick shook his head as he sat in an empty chair next to Schanke.

"Anyone else immune?" Natalie asked, taking a seat on the other side of
the room, right next to Cohen.

Briggs' partner, Robert Flanagan, tentatively raised his hand, then, a
bit sheepishly, said, "Everyone else passed out.  Even Cohen."

Natalie started to nod, but then stopped herself.  From what Nick had
said, resistors were relatively rare, but if she thought about it, with
Nick included, that made three out of eight, which wasn't at all rare.
Four out of nine, if you counted Schmidt--obviously he wasn't
susceptible since he had tested them.  Now she wondered if Schmidt would
comment on it.  Did he have any idea what percentage of people were
'immune'?

As Schmidt came back in, closed the door--and turned the lock--he
immediately started handing out copies.  Everyone was given a copy of
both lists.  They also received a second sheet that was formatted more
like a letter.  Next, Nick and Natalie were given a half sheet of paper
with the statement, "I will not speak about, nor by any other means
discuss this matter with anyone not involved or otherwise already
informed, including co-workers, superiors, any member of the press, or
the general public," and a reminder that if they did, they could be
legally punished.  At the bottom was the expected line for them to sign
and date to signify their agreement.

"Both of you need to sign that disclaimer," Schmidt said, holding pens
out to each of them.  They took them, and after a quick glance at each
other they signed the forms and handed both them and the pens back.

"Now," Schmidt continued, putting the forms in his folder, "for what's
next.  Briggs and Flanagan, you are assigned the page labelled one.
DuBois and Anderson, page two.  Knight and Schanke, pages three and
four.  You should each have about thirty names.  We want you to get
photos to go with their names.  Use any source.  The video taken tonight
will be available tomorrow to use for that purpose.  Also note any other
information that could be pertinent, such as addresses, alternate names,
and particularly where they might work.  You will report this
information to me rather than your Captains."  Then he turned
specifically to Natalie.  "I want you to sort the list using the
measurements taken.  And make a list of possibles for the wounds on the
vampire Lucien LaCroix and the human Tiffany Mey.  Miss Mey's wound was
several days old, but vampires heal quickly, so the one who caused Mr.
LaCroix' wound was probably still present."

Natalie looked down at that, not wanting Schmidt to see her reaction.
The vampire who had inflicted the wound had indeed been present, but was
not on the list.

"Has anyone here met the Raven's owner, Janette DuCharme, prior to
tonight?" Schmidt then asked.  "Even briefly?"

"Knight certainly has," Schanke stated instantly.

"As have you," Nick countered, a bit annoyed that his partner had
offered up his name so quickly.

"Knight and Schanke have had a couple cases where she has been a witness
or provided further information, and Dr. Lambert and I myself have also
met her," Cohen supplied.  "I believe Knight uses her as an informant on
a regular basis."

Schmidt wrote their names down.  "Anyone else?"  When no one answered,
he stated, "I'll have to ask all of you who have met her some questions.
I'll start with Captain Cohen."

"What about our other cases?" Nick asked, aware that at least he and
Schanke currently had two open homicides.  He didn't know about the
others--Briggs and Flanagan were on day-shift, and DuBois and Anderson
were from the 27th.

"You won't be working on them for at least a few days.  Anything urgent
will be reassigned," Cohen replied.  "In fact, you should probably
gather up any pertinent information on your current cases tonight to
send out--probably to detectives in another precinct."

Schmidt nodded.  "Look over the second sheet.  When I return, you can
ask whatever questions you want."  Then he left with Cohen.

Everyone examined the page that, at first glance, appeared to be a
letter, or maybe a job description.  The first part included several
paragraphs regarding vampires' abilities.  Schmidt and his
group--whoever or whatever they were--had a lot of information.  They
knew about vampires' ability to manipulate minds, that they could fly,
their strength, that they were immortal...everything.  Even that they
didn't typically reflect in mirrors and their response to touching
religious objects.  They also knew that the only definitive test was
their reaction to sunlight or higher content/lower wavelength UV light
sources.

Below the paragraphs was a list of attributes that would make a vampire
stand out among humans.  Nick tensed, aware the list would draw
attention to him.  It mentioned things like aversion to sunlight,
aversion to garlic, never witnessed eating, and appearing to get his/her
way.  Schmidt's people also apparently knew how vampires stood out, even
when they were trying to blend in.  This part of the paper bothered him
more than the first.  Below it were instructions on who to notify of any
individuals who fit the descriptions. 

Nick put the paper down, then glanced through the copies of the lists of
names.  He was pleased that, while there were almost a hundred names
listed, there had been very few older vampires in the club that night.
But then, Friday nights mainly attracted the young ones who enjoyed the
club quite full and loud.  But it would also be these younger vampires
who would be most easily traced, their information most easily found.

Barely ten minutes later, Schmidt returned without Cohen, asking,
"Questions?"

"Yeah, you sure Knight here isn't one of them?" Briggs asked, almost
laughing.  "He fits most of those 'notify if' clauses, and that's not
even counting his sunlight issue, which is a little more than just an
'aversion'." 

Nick tensed, even though he didn't feel that Briggs genuinely thought he
was a vampire.  His 'sun allergy' was widely known and had periodically
caused some teasing...like now.  He was thankful Briggs hadn't pointed
out that he had also been at the Raven instead of the precinct.

"Knight's clean.  If he was a vampire, he wouldn't have been able to use
the black light without getting severe burns on almost his entire hand.
He had no burns at all."

"How do you know so much about them?" Flanagan asked.

"I'm sorry, but I can't answer that question right now."

"What are you planning to do about them?" Natalie asked.  "Reveal their
existence?  Kill them?"

At this Schmidt immediately shook his head, raising his hands at what
clearly sounded appalling to him.  "We have no intention of killing
them."

"Then what is the plan?" Nick asked.

"The plan--" Schmidt started, then stopped.  "Frankly, as far as I'm
aware, there isn't really a concrete plan, beyond what we already did at
the club.  I don't doubt, though, that it will result in vampires being
revealed to the public, and soon.  A lot of what happens after that will
depend on public reaction, our reactions to questions, and their
subsequent reactions--especially the latter, as that could affect public
reaction greatly.  From what I have so far learned, we were lucky here
in Toronto.  In London, a detective was seriously injured."

"And the vampire?" Natalie asked when he didn't say what else had
happened.  "I'm assuming--"

"Also seriously injured.  He was allowed to be taken by his people.  We
have not been informed of his condition; we don't even know his name."
Schmidt glanced down.  "A pre-recorded informational programme will be
aired in the next few days, once the public and news agencies start to
ask questions.  And they will."  He stopped again, now turning his
attention to those gathered.  "And I need to remind you not to pass out
any of this information.  You will undoubtedly be approached by the
press at some point; along with your co-workers and perhaps even your
families.  You may not confirm any information beyond what will be aired
during the informational broadcast, and then only after that has been
aired.  Anything else should be met with 'no comment'.  If you're not
sure, again, reply with 'no comment'.  I also expect all of you to not
identify any of the individuals discovered for what they are in any
statements.  We didn't do this to single out any individuals."

"You singled out the Raven's owner," Natalie pointed out.

"An unfortunate side effect.  Anything else?"

"Informational--" Flanagan started, but stopped, realising something.
"So this is already set up, then?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.  It will air in a few days, after the
media starts asking questions about what happened tonight...and we all
know they will."

"Why are you--we--doing this?" Natalie then asked.

"As I explained earlier this evening, I can't specify why, only that we
are...and that if not now, vampires will be outed in the near future,
and it would probably cast them in a much darker light."  He paused for
a moment, and when no one asked anything, he prompted, "Any other
questions?"

Those present mostly glanced at one another, seeing if anyone else had
something to ask.  Most everyone felt that any further questions they
did have wouldn't be adequately answered even if they did ask them.

"Good.  I'll explain more over the next couple of days.  Now, Dr.
Lambert, if you would come with me?"

Natalie initially stiffened, but then got up and followed Schmidt,
hoping her interview would be as short as Cohen's.  She was most worried
about Schanke's interview.  She knew he had seen Nick and Janette
together, and doing more than merely talking.  And then there would be
Nick's interview.  Hopefully everything would corroborate close
enough...



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (004/111)

Schanke's interview hadn't been right after Natalie's, since Schmidt
first took Natalie back to the morgue, then he ended up on the phone for
the next several hours.  The detectives returned to their desks, other
than DuBois and Anderson, who worked at a computer in the conference
room.  Nick and Schanke had already found photographs and addresses for
seven of those on their lists.

It was barely half an hour before dawn by the time Schanke's interview
was over and it was finally Nick's turn to be called back to Interview
Room One.  Entering, he found the CD player had been put off to the
side, but he also noticed one of the camcorders was hooked up to a
television, which was switched on.

"Sit down, Detective Knight."

He did so, leaning cautiously back in his chair.

"I'll come right to the point here.  How long have you known Janette
DuCharme?"

He thought, wishing he knew if Schmidt had asked his partner this
question and what Schanke had said.

"Detective?"

"Several years.  Maybe about a decade, I think," he randomly said,
hoping it wouldn't contradict anything Schanke had said.  He had never
actually pinned it to specific years, but his partner did know he had
known her a while--since 'college', whenever that had been.

"What is your relationship with her?"

He held back a flinch, quickly answering, "She's...an acquaintance I get
information from."

"Just information?"  Schmidt stood and walked over to the camcorder,
switching the video on and playing the first part of the tape.

Nick watched the tape start.  He could see when the camera was carried
inside and apparently set down on the floor near the door.  On the
screen he saw LaCroix exit the office, appearing rather pleased about
something, then he spotted himself exit the room and walk toward
Janette.  He kissed her cheek mere moments before the light flashed,
which was where his questioner stopped the tape.

"Just acquaintances?" Schmidt asked in a tone that clearly indicated
curiosity and scepticism.
 
"Just acquaintances," he repeated, with just a touch of emphasis.
"It...became customary for me to give her a kiss, usually on the cheek,
before leaving after we talked."

"Do you do that with your other informants?"

"No.  Janette is a bit...eccentric," he answered.  "I never--"

"That's fine.  Your partner said the same.  And you were at the club
instead of work--"

"To talk to her about a case...to see if she had ever seen a young woman
who was shot a few days ago."

"And you've also met and spoken with Lucien LaCroix?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.  There was no point in denying it
when they had been taped coming out of the club's office together.

"How long have you known him?"

"Not...long.  I've only met him in person a couple of times."

"In person?"

"He has a radio show," Nick answered, then suppressed another flinch,
knowing what the next question would be.

"Which station?  And what time is he on?"

"CERK.  Nights, at varying times."  Then, figuring if he didn't say it,
Schmidt would either ask or otherwise discover it anyway, he added, "He
goes by the name 'Nightcrawler' on the show."

Schmidt wrote the information down, then continued, "And why were you in
the office with him?"

This time, again, he hesitated.  Then, he latched onto the most obvious
reason he could think of, and said, "I had seen the wound on his neck
and asked him about it."

"And?"

"And he brushed off my question and returned to the club."

"How would you say they typically react to things?"

Nick was a bit taken aback by this question.  "What do you mean?"

"Has either of them ever shown hints of violence toward you or
threatened you?  How do they react when pushed for information or faced
with stress or frustration?"

"Janette--" he started, and then stopped again.  What should he say
about them?  Schanke had seen him and Janette interact, and had surely
been asked about it.  "Janette can sometimes be rather...she can be
clearly upset, but violent?  No."

"And the man?  Lucien LaCroix?"

"I really don't know.  I haven't really talked to him much," he lied,
but tried to hold Schmidt's gaze.

"How did he react tonight when you asked him about the wound?"

"Again, he brushed off my question--"

"How?  Be specific."

"He was upset that I had asked and outright refused to answer.  Yes, he
seemed angry.  I figured my question was too personal since we just
barely know each other."

"Did you know what either of them was before tonight?"

"No."

"Did you recognise any of the other names we obtained?"

"I haven't really examined the full list," he answered, trying to avoid
the question.  Then, he found the list set in front of him, spread out
on the table.

"Any other names you've heard or recognise?"

Nick scanned the lists, but many of the names he honestly didn't
recognise--he really didn't spend enough time with other vampires to
know the names of the younger ones.  The few names he did recognise, he
didn't want to acknowledge.  "No, I don't recognise any of the names."
Then, glancing at his watch, he winced.  It was getting very, very close
to sunrise.  He'd have to leave within the next few minutes if he wanted
to get home without too much difficulty.  When Schmidt didn't ask him
another question but wrote something casually down, he asked, "Is that
all?"

"No, I have one more question.  Your partner didn't answer me when I
asked if it would be an issue if you needed to go somewhere during the
day.  He did say you have done so on a couple of occasions, and that
he's even seen you outside with the sun up."

"Yes."

"Yes that it's an issue or yes that you've done it?"

Nick considered his answer carefully.  If he said it wasn't doable, he
suspected Schmidt would find some way to further test him.  He wanted in
on this, if for no other reason than to have a chance at getting
advanced warning of whatever might be done.  Never mind that he didn't
know what would happen if he was discovered to be a vampire.  Would he
be fired on the spot?  "It...would be an issue if I needed to be in an
open area outside.  Otherwise it is doable, if I take a few
precautions."

"So you wouldn't object to, nor have issues with, coming down to the
precinct or something similar during the day?  It wouldn't be
detrimental to your health?"

"No," he answered a bit stiffly.

"Good, good," Schmidt said, then gathered up the list and started
disconnecting the camcorder.  "You can go now.  Cohen and I are,
however, expecting you to be on time tonight."

Nick nodded and walked slowly to the door.  Once free of the room, he
walked a bit faster to his desk.  His partner was already long gone.
Putting the papers from tonight into a locked drawer, he grabbed his
jacket and hurried for the Caddy.  It was already quite bright, dawn
approaching quickly as he got in and sped toward home.  He hoped he
would make it there before the sun actually rose.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (005/111)

As dawn approached, Natalie struggled into the elevator at the loft with
her purse and a bag of hastily purchased groceries.  After going back to
the morgue, she'd started getting concerned for Nick.  During her
interview, in addition to asking questions about what she knew about
Janette, Schmidt had asked her some questions about Nick, specifically
about his 'sun allergy'.  He had been satisfied with her answers and he
hadn't seemed overly suspicious about Nick, but she thought it might be
a good idea to make Nick's refrigerator a bit less bare in case
Schmidt--or even Cohen or Schanke--came over and noticed any oddities.
She'd probably buy some more things the following night, but anything
had to be better than the nearly empty refrigerator containing nothing
more than a few suspicious bottles of red liquid in unlabelled wine
bottles.

As the elevator stopped, she again struggled to pull the door open and
slip inside.  Looking around, she noticed the shutters were still up,
the first light of dawn shining through the windows.  "Nick?" she called
and took a step forward, only to have to turn because her coat was
caught in the door.  Pulling it free, she turned back to the room only
to drop the bag of groceries in shock.

Much to her surprise and dismay, LaCroix had appeared right in front of
her, even angrier than he had been at the Raven.

"Where is Nicholas?" he hissed, eyeing the mortal as he stepped even
nearer.

She tried to look away from his brightly glowing eyes, but frankly they
were less terrifying than his bared fangs.

"Where is he?" he repeated.

"If he's not here, then I don't know where he is," she eventually
managed, bending down to pick up the fallen groceries.

"Tell me.  Now!"

"I haven't seen him since one this morning.  I figured he'd already be
home by now."

"Has he been discovered?"

Finally grabbing the last item that had fallen out of the bag, she stood
up, her eyes once again meeting his.  He was still enraged, but there
was almost a touch of concern now.  Angry concern, but concern
nonetheless.

"Has he?!"

"No," she answered.  "Or at least he hadn't been when I left the
precinct.  I couldn't exactly stick around.  I didn't want to raise
suspicion."

LaCroix glared at the mortal a few seconds longer, then turned his gaze
toward the bag of groceries with disgust.  "Exactly what, pray tell, is
the purpose of this collection of...mortal amenities?"

"Ah, I thought I'd try and make Nick's fridge and kitchen a bit more
normal, in case he has...unwelcome guests."  When he didn't comment but
stepped back, she went to the kitchen, set her purse and the bag on the
table, and started to put things away.  The vampire watched her every
movement from a distance, only approaching after she had finished.

She watched him pointedly avoid the long lines of sunlight, and wondered
why he hadn't simply closed the shutters.  Surely he could figure out
how to do that.  Scanning the room, she noticed the remote wasn't on the
table or anywhere in sight.  Skirting past him, she went over to the
coffee table and, after checking the cushions in the sofa, spied it
sticking out from under it.  Quickly she took it and started closing the
shutters, bringing the room into near darkness, except for the kitchen
light.

Now, however, LaCroix was free to walk anywhere he wished, and she
started to feel as if he were stalking her.

"What did you tell this mortal?"

"Nothing."

"How did he know about us?" he continued, stepping right up to Natalie.

"I don't know," she replied, stepping back.  "He was tight-lipped about
the whole thing...to *everyone*."  She tried to turn, but he grabbed her
arms.  She could almost feel the coldness of his hands through her
jacket, and his grip felt uncomfortably tight.  "Let go of me."

"Not until you answer."

"Please, just...let me show you something."

LaCroix considered the offer, turning toward the table.  In Natalie's
purse he could spot the edge of a folder.

Feeling him abruptly release her arms, she turned, took the several
steps to the kitchen table, then pulled a file out of her purse.
Opening it, she put a copy of the lists from the club on the table, then
pulled out the sheet that had the descriptions on it.

She turned to head back to where LaCroix had stood, only to find him now
right beside her.  "Here," she said, holding out the paper.  "Read that
and tell me I could have told them anything they probably don't already
know."

He took the sheet and scanned it, quickly becoming even more irate.

"They know all of your strengths and weaknesses.  Even knew how long
it'd take for most vampires to react to a black light--an ultraviolet
light--and probably what wavelengths you're most susceptible to.  Worse
still, Schmidt had a vial of blood--vampire blood.  So either one of you
is working with his organisation or whatever, or they are holding one or
more vampires.  I told him nothing."

Handing the sheet of paper back to the mortal, LaCroix turned, hearing
the elevator start up.

Natalie also heard it, and started over to the door.  Once the elevator
stopped, she pulled the door open.  Nick was burnt on his left hand and
cheek, and after she helped him inside, he leaned against the wall next
to the elevator.

Seconds later a half-full bottle appeared before Nick, courtesy of
LaCroix, and he took it and drank from it without hesitation.

"Nick, what happened?"

He continued to drink from the bottle until it was empty, barely giving
LaCroix a glance.  Then he groaned, closed his eyes, and leaned his head
back against the wall.

"Nick?"

"Schmidt didn't start my interview until half an hour ago.  The sun was
nearly up by the time I left."  He closed his eyes again.

"Interview?" LaCroix asked, turning to Natalie before turning back to
his son.  "Explain."

"Schmidt had questions for all of us who had met Janette at some point.
Which meant Cohen, Schanke, Nick, and myself," she answered.  "He also
asked me about the extent of Nick's allergy, and how well Janette had
cooperated when I went with her to the basement."

Nick nodded.  "He asked me about my...allergy.  Schanke, too, by the
sound of it."

"Does he suspect what you are?"

"No, I don't think so.  But he also asked me about you, LaCroix.  Those
video cameras caught us coming out of the office."

"And?  What did you tell him?"

"Nothing!  Nothing important, at least.  I did have to admit that we
knew each other; he asked why we were in the office.  I told him I was
asking about your wound.  And I also had to admit that I knew Janette,
although I said she was only an acquaintance, an informant."

"What else did he ask?"

"If I recognised any names on those lists."

"And?"

"I didn't say anything."

LaCroix seemed to relax.

"Do you know anything about what happened tonight?" Natalie asked,
looking to LaCroix.  "Beyond what happened at the Raven, anyway?"

At this, he turned and walked away.

"What do you know, LaCroix?" Nick said, pulling away from the wall.
"Tell me.  It's why you're here, isn't it?  To talk to me?  To tell me
something?"

"Of course."  His attention turned back to the mortal.  "Tell her to
leave."

"Just tell me," Nick said, crossing to the refrigerator for more blood.
Opening the door, he stepped back and stiffened, feeling ill upon seeing
the unexpected food--mortal food--spread out on the different shelves.
Two bottles were also missing.

"I thought it might be a good idea to make it less bare, in case Schmidt
or someone dropped by and started poking around," Natalie explained.

Nick relaxed, then pulled out the nearest bottle, used his teeth to pull
the cork out, and drank deeply from it, not stopping until a third of it
was gone.

"Tell her to leave," LaCroix said again.

"No.  Anything you want to say to me, you can say to Natalie.  Like it
or not, we are all involved in this."

LaCroix' eyes burned red at the refusal, and he turned away again.
"Very well.  Every major city from Tokyo to Moscow to Anchorage appears
to have been hit within the last sixteen hours.  One of us died in
London...but more of them have died than us, from what I've managed to
find out.  We almost had no warning."

"Almost?"

"A few of their targets on the west coast were able to partially clear
out before the police entered."

Nick considered that, then whispered, "Feliks."

"What?" LaCroix asked, suddenly even more concerned.

"Feliks was at the Raven tonight.  I think Natalie saw him, tested him."

LaCroix walked over to the table and picked up the list, which he then
started to look through.

"He passed," she added.  "His name's not on there.  When I described him
to Nick--"

LaCroix nearly smiled.  "So his ridiculous obsession with his precious
plants paid off.  And their test isn't fool-proof."  He paused, his eyes
narrowing.  "For that matter, Nicholas, how exactly did you manage to
pass their test?"

"I...wasn't checked.  Not directly with the light, like you were.
Schmidt just had me hold my hands up after we'd emptied out the club.
I'd already been using the UV light for a while, and--"

"Back at the precinct, he gave us that sheet I showed you," Natalie cut
in.  "One of the other detectives asked if Schmidt was sure Nick wasn't
a vampire, and he'd answered that 'a vampire wouldn't be able to use a
black light that long without receiving severe burns' or something like
that."

"One of the--"

"It wasn't that blunt.  It was more mentioned...facetiously, I think,"
Nick assured his sire, not wanting him to be too concerned.

"The point is Schmidt seems positive Nick isn't a vampire."

"Who, exactly, is this Schmidt?" LaCroix finally asked.  "And what
authority does he have to do this?"

"William Schmidt," she said.  "He's the man who spoke at the Raven and
did the...demo with the light.  And we still have no idea what
organisation or agency or whatever he works for.  We didn't get that.
But it's his people who are behind this, or are at least organising
this, or picked him to do this, or...whatever."  She shrugged in defeat.

"Nicholas, did you try to--"

"No, and there's no point in trying.  He's a resistor."

"If you didn't--"

"He's a resistor," Nick repeated, becoming uncomfortable.  "If not, he
would have passed out when he tested us."

"Tested you?  Tested what?"

"If we were immune to vampires' hypnotism."

"How did he accomplish this?"

"He played this CD with--" Natalie began, but was interrupted.

"According to the test, we're both 'immune'.  It's their name for
resistors," Nick stated, cutting off Natalie's explanation.

LaCroix' anger rose again.  "What are their intentions regarding us?
Has he said?"

Nick flinched and turned away.  "Not...really."

"He did admit that as a result of all this, your existence will be
revealed to the general public," she said.  "Within the next few days."

"You haven't been able to find anything out about them?" Nick asked,
exasperated.  LaCroix had had nearly the entire night to search for
answers or have them provided to him.

"No.  Merlin has one of the young ones trying to gather information, but
there was nothing as of half an hour ago."  He turned away, then moved
over to his son and whispered into his ear, "I'm going to make a couple
more phone calls.  I want her gone by the time I'm done."  Then he left,
flew up to the balcony, and walked into the bedroom.

Natalie watched him, then turned back to Nick, whose attention was now
on the floor.  "So that's--"

"That's LaCroix.  What can I say?"  The corner of his lip ticked up into
a half-smile.  "He's actually quite civil at the moment.  Especially
considering..."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No.  Or not if you want somewhere to sleep."

She nearly contradicted him, but remembered LaCroix had gone into the
bedroom.  She suspected Nick would likely end up on the couch.  "I'll
come by tomorrow morning, if that's okay?"

"It'll be fine.  If it's not, I'll let you know sometime tonight."
Watching Natalie grab her purse and start toward the elevator, he asked,
"Where did you put the other bottles?"

"What?  What other bottles?"

"The refrigerator.  There were five bottles in there last night, but
there were only two after I...  Where did you put the other two?"

"I didn't move any of them."

Initially he felt confused, then he flinched.  He didn't think it likely
LaCroix would have tossed them--if he had, they'd have been replaced
with human blood, not simply missing.  He must have drunk them.

"What?"

"Nothing.  Never mind.  I'm probably remembering wrong," he muttered,
diverting his eyes.

She took a few steps back toward him.  "Are you doing okay with this?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly.  "It's too soon to tell."

Natalie nodded.  This was all so sudden, and it hadn't really even hit
her yet.  It probably wouldn't until it came out on the news that
vampires truly existed and public reaction followed.  "Don't stay up too
late worrying, okay?"

Nick nodded and turned to Natalie, watching her leave.  Closing his
eyes, he could hear LaCroix talking, whispering into the phone to
Merlin.  He hoped his sire wouldn't stay up all day.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (006/111)

The phone rang and Nick instinctively rolled back and picked it up,
barely awake.  "Hmm?"

"Knight, Schanke's on his--" Cohen's voice ceased when Nick
inadvertently hung up, barely conscious.  In fact, within seconds he had
fallen back to sleep.

Again the phone rang, but this time LaCroix pried the phone from his
son's hand and, with something between a smile and a grimace, brought it
up to the younger man's ear and pushed the button to acknowledge the
call.

"KNIGHT!" Cohen yelled.

Nick sat up, only to be stopped by LaCroix' arm.  They were lying on his
bed, both still in their clothes from the night before.  It took a few
seconds for him to fully wake up and remember why he was up here instead
of on the couch where he had started.  Oddly, LaCroix had suggested
those arrangements might look odd if his partner came over.  It still
would if Schanke came up to his room right now, although why that
thought came to mind, he wasn't sure.

"Knight, are you there?" Cohen's voice came again, now more concerned
than angry, but it effectively snapped his attention back to the phone.

Taking the handset from LaCroix, he answered, "Yeah, I'm awake."

"As I was saying when you hung up on me, Schanke's on his way over to
pick you up."

"What?" he asked, suddenly wide awake.

"Your partner said he'd be there in about twenty minutes.  He'll explain
on the way.  Did you get that?"

"Yeah, Schanke's...  Twenty minutes."

"Probably more like fifteen, now.  Don't fall back to sleep, Knight."

"I won't."  After Cohen hung up, Nick slowly put the phone back.

"It's two in the afternoon, Nicholas.  You cannot--"

"I don't have a choice.  Schanke and Cohen have both seen me go in
during the day.  To help divert suspicion, I had to tell Schmidt it was
doable.  I have to go.  I only hope no one notices if I...smoke a bit."

Nick got out of bed and headed to his closet, pulling out some suitable
clothes.  Under the circumstances, he thought it prudent to avoid dark
colours, which was his preference, so he had to put some thought into
his choices.  "LaCroix, please make sure there's nothing out downstairs.
Like the copies Natalie made.  Or any empty bottles.  Not that Schanke
hasn't seen any before, but he doesn't need a reminder.  Not right now."

LaCroix narrowed his eyes, but left the room as his son headed into the
bathroom and turned the water on for the shower.

By the time Nick came back downstairs, his hair still wet but his
clothes changed, his holster in place, LaCroix had folded and pocketed
the papers and picked up anything suspicious.  Nick set the thicker
trenchcoat, hat, gloves, and sunglasses he had used in the past when he
needed to go somewhere during the day on the kitchen table, got his
backup weapon, then headed to the refrigerator, only for his sire to
stop him, holding the door shut.  "LaCroix--"

"You need something stronger than that swill of yours if--"

"Move."

"No."  LaCroix' eyes flashed gold.  "You will drink from me."  When his
son backed away, he stopped his retreat and seized the younger man's
wrist.  "You will do this, Nicholas.  I will *not* allow you to leave
until you do.  Even if your dear detective friend has to watch."

Nick closed his eyes as LaCroix pulled him toward him, right up next to
him.  He could feel the other man's breath on his ear, even faintly
smell his blood.

"Drink, mon fils."

He nearly tried to pull away, but instead struck, knowing the blood
would at least make his car ride with Schanke slightly easier.  LaCroix'
blood tasted less sweet than the night before, and his sire quickly
weakened.  Nick tried to stop, but felt the hand on the back of his neck
tighten, holding him in place.  He drank until the hand slackened.
Pulling back, he felt LaCroix lean on him.

LaCroix smiled in approval.  Then, when the elevator started up, he
backed away and made his way to the stairs.

Nick headed over to the elevator, glancing back to watch his house guest
head back to the bedroom.  He wiped his lips with the back of his hand
to remove any residual blood--there wasn't much at all, thankfully.
With another glance he found LaCroix finally out of sight, right as the
elevator stopped.  He pulled the door open for his partner.

"You don't by chance have some food in this place, do you?" Schanke
asked, heading past his partner and straight for the refrigerator.
"Knowing you, it's a long shot, but my gut is a-grumblin'.  Cohen
called, woke me up, and told me to run by and pick you up right away."
He pulled the refrigerator door open and immediately froze, wide-eyed at
the fully-stocked fridge.  It only stopped him for a couple of seconds,
however; then he started rummaging through the food inside.  Most of it
was healthy, much to his dismay.  "Bingo!  *Finally* you got some food
here.  Hey, can I have some of this?" he said, holding up an unopened
package of sliced smoked turkey breast.

"Take whatever you want."

Schanke shut the door and tore open the package, pulled a couple of
slices out, and ate it right there.  When Nick merely watched him, he
chewed while he said, "You know, we're supposed to leave ASAP.  Can I
take this with us?"

"Sure," Nick answered, picking the trenchcoat up off the table and
slipping it on.  Schanke started back to the elevator while he picked up
the hat, gloves, and sunglasses he had set out.

"You sure you're okay with this?  I mean, you're not going to--"

"I'll be fine," he replied, cutting his partner off and putting on the
hat and sunglasses while they headed down in the elevator.  His partner
examined him nervously, as if concerned or worried.  He didn't know if
that was for him or of him, and frankly he wasn't sure he wanted to
know.  He tried to ignore it and asked, "Where are we going?"

"Not sure.  It's some apartment, judging by the address, but that's all
I know.  That, and I guess Schmidt will fill us in when we get there.
Maybe.  Takes a heavy-duty tow-truck to haul any info outta that guy."

Nick stiffened.  Unless there was some murder--and involving vampires at
that--the only thing that came to mind was waking and questioning a
vampire.  Obviously it'd be better during the day; the vampire would
have nowhere to run.  But his kind rarely reacted well to being woken
unexpectedly...especially if it resulted in being trapped.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Here, you should have gotten these last night," Schmidt said, passing
two ammo magazines to Nick from the back seat of Schanke's car.

"What are these?"

"Wooden bullets.  They're only for self-defence.  Don't shoot unless
it's absolutely necessary, but if you must, then aim for the torso, but
not the heart.  After all, we don't want to kill them, just stun them."

Nick tensed, but after taking his gloves off, he put one of the
magazines in his gun exactly like Schanke had done a few moments before.
"So what are we doing here?"

"As soon as Briggs and Flanagan get here, we're--more specifically, you
four--are going to enter apartment B of that duplex there and detain the
occupant."

"Why?  What have they done?  We wouldn't be here if--"

"Someone has been hacking into records about what we're doing, and we
traced them to this apartment."  Schmidt pulled out a piece of paper and
handed it to Nick.

He looked at the sheet of paper.  It was another search warrant.  He
then turned away, remembering what LaCroix had mentioned early that
morning--Merlin had one of the young ones trying to get information.

"They're here," Schmidt said, nodding to another unmarked car.  "I'll
bring them up to speed, then, when we get out, you two move in from the
front, enter, and make sure the occupant cooperates, assuming you get to
him first.  Briggs and Flanagan will enter from the back--I'll be
following them, hopefully from a safe distance."

After Schmidt got out of the car, Schanke whispered, "Nick?  You know,
you're acting a bit--"

"I'm fine," he replied tersely.  "Mostly, anyway."

"I know what you mean.  Bit more of an adrenaline rush than usual, isn't
it?  And Schmidt's unarmed...  If this guy gets past us, Schmidt could
be his next meal."

Nick didn't answer.  True, it was a bit more dangerous for him, but only
the part about getting to and from the apartment.  For the rest it
wasn't himself that he was worried about, but his partner, the other
detectives, and Schmidt.  He couldn't help but think it'd be a bad thing
if anything happened to Schmidt.  And then there was the young vampire,
who would probably react on instinct and could certainly kill someone or
be killed himself.

"Nick, time to go," Schanke said, getting out.

He looked out and saw everyone else leaving the other vehicle, starting
their little mini operation.  Reluctantly taking off the sunglasses and
leaving off the gloves, he exited Schanke's car.  He quickly headed to
the door of the indicated apartment, which was, thankfully, shaded.
And, also thankfully, only his partner could see him half-smoulder under
the sunlight.  Once at the door, he waited for Schanke's signal, and
after they had announced themselves and received no response, he kicked
open the door.

He followed Schanke into the front room, which they found deserted.
There was a blanket and pillow on the couch, which appeared to double as
a bed.  The rest of the room looked slightly dishevelled.  The kitchen
ahead was bare, as expected.  There was a room off to the side, the door
open.  Approaching, inside they found a young man who appeared to be in
his late teens or early twenties, frantically typing into his keyboard,
his frightened features illuminated only by the computer screen.

"Stop what you're doing and raise your hands!" Schanke yelled, pointing
his gun at the young man.

The man didn't turn or stop, although his fear visibly increased.

"Put your hands behind your head," Nick ordered, his weapon also aimed
at the young man.

At the other vampire's voice, the man stopped and turned.  While he
hesitated, he started to do as instructed, albeit slowly.

Schanke moved into the room, bumping the edge of a table.  A bottle of
blood fell on the floor, shattering.  Then, by the sound of it, the
others had entered through the back door.  Nick was taken aback by the
abrupt scent of human blood and the young vampire's eyes flashed gold.
Spurred into action, the young hacker flew toward the two detectives,
aiming for the door behind them.

Nick shot, catching the young vampire in the right shoulder.  The man
fell to his knees at the sudden impact.  Nick took a chance and stepped
forward.  He pushed the young vampire forward onto the ground and pinned
him.  He whispered quietly so that his partner wouldn't hear,
"Cooperate.  Don't answer anything, but don't fight."

Within seconds Briggs, Flanagan, and--several strides behind
them--Schmidt entered.

"You two all right?" Briggs asked.

"Fine," Schanke answered, his attention on Nick and the injured vampire.

"Cuff him with these," Schmidt said, passing a pair of handcuffs
forward.

Nick accepted them from his partner.  After pulling the young vampire's
hands back and cuffing him, he tested the metal after noticing they
weren't standard police-issue handcuffs.  The chain was much thicker,
doubled, and the metal was strong enough that it didn't bend under
pressure.  They had obviously been made specifically for his kind.

"Knight, Schanke, take him back to the precinct and wait for me.
Briggs, Flanagan, I want everything on that desk brought back.
Computer, discs, everything."

Nick pulled the man back up onto his knees, and then, with a bit more
difficulty, to his feet.  The young vampire didn't want to go anywhere,
and Nick didn't blame him.  "Schanke, take his other arm."

Schanke nodded, put his gun away, and did so.  He and Nick guided the
young vampire toward the door, but when they reached the last few steps,
the man pulled back.  Since Nick wasn't able to use any obvious extra
strength without giving himself away, they were all forced back several
steps.

"Schanke, the blanket from the couch, get it," he said, and while his
partner released the young man, he again whispered to the young vampire,
"It's not far.  You'll be fine."

With the blanket covering the man's exposed skin, Nick and Schanke
managed to get him out of the door.  Once under full sunlight, and now
more vulnerable, the vampire co-operated more readily and allowed them
to guide him to the back seat of Schanke's car.  Once the door was shut,
Nick quickly slipped into the passenger side and put his sunglasses back
on.  He would have put the gloves on as well, but his hands were already
covered in burns; he hadn't been able to protect them from sunlight
while also holding onto the young vampire.  Glancing to the back seat,
he saw the frightened young man glance up at him.

"Did you get anything?  Any information?" he asked hurriedly.

"Yes," the man replied, then he cowered back fully under the blanket as
Schanke opened his door and got in.

"Nick, let me see your--" Schanke started, reaching toward his partner's
hands.

"I'm fine," Nick protested, cutting his partner off and folding his arms
with a wince.

"You don't look--"

"Drop it, Schanke."

"Or what?"

"Please, Skank," he said, then looked away and cowered down next to the
door.  "Just drive."

Schanke almost asked again, but started the engine.  Neither spoke
another word on the way back.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

The next hour sped by.  It had been a much shorter trip from the car to
the back entrance of the precinct than it had been from the house to the
car, and Nick had been grateful when he avoided further burns.  The
first ones had thankfully healed by the time they had arrived back at
the precinct--albeit barely--probably thanks to LaCroix' blood.  He knew
his partner had seen the ones from before, and was surprised he hadn't
outright asked if he was one of them, if he was a vampire.  By now
Schanke had to know.

The vampire they had brought in had refused point-blank to answer any
questions.  Not his name, what he had been doing, nothing.  For the most
part he had simply remained silent, not saying a word.  Natalie had been
called to remove the bullet from his shoulder, but he wouldn't allow
even that.  He wouldn't allow her anywhere near him.  The young man now
merely waited silently for sunset and the promise that he would be
allowed to leave.

What Nick was most interested in, however, were the computer and discs
taken from the house.  As it approached sunset and Schmidt continued to
try to get answers from the young man, Nick tried to devise a way to
talk to him.  Finally, he settled for writing his home address and the
word 'dawn' on the back of one of his business cards, and hoped he would
get the chance to pass it to the young vampire.

Hearing Schmidt's voice in the hall, he told Schanke he'd be right back.
He'd only barely reached the interview room where the young man had been
held as he was preparing to dart out the door, apparently free to leave.
"Just a second," Nick said, hoping the young man would stop since it was
clear the vampire knew who he was, although they had never actually met.
Handing the card out, making sure Schmidt couldn't see the back, he
said, "If you change your mind or, say, another of your people wants to
talk..."

After a second, the young man took the card and looked down.  For an
instant, he met Nick's gaze, then left.

"You didn't need to do that.  I had already given him my contact
information," Schmidt stated, clearly annoyed by the detective's action.

"I thought he might be more willing to talk to a detective, a local
cop."

"The same detective who shot him?  Not that there will be any problem
with that--Briggs, Flanagan, and your partner all corroborated your
story.  I'm sorry, but I think you'd be the last person he'd want to
talk to."

Nick flinched.  He hadn't really thought about that.  He had been upset
about doing it, but knew that if he hadn't shot him, one of the other
detectives surely would have...or they'd have been injured or possibly
killed.  "A peace offering, then, I suppose," he eventually answered.

"Well, whatever the case, I want you and your partner to go by the
Raven.  Ask Ms. DuCharme if she knows his name," Schmidt said, handing
him an enlarged snapshot of the young man.

He nodded, made the appearance of turning to leave, then turned back and
asked, "Have you discovered what he found?  Or if he was in contact with
anyone else?"

"Not yet.  Anderson and one of your forensics people are working on his
computer files.  When you get back, I want you two to pull his phone
records."

Again, Nick nodded, then returned to his desk to collect his partner.
"Come on, Skank, let's go."

"Where?"

"The Raven."

Schanke tensed and groaned, but grabbed his coat and followed his
partner out.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Their visit to the Raven proved short and unproductive.  Not that Nick
had expected otherwise.  Janette, of course, had refused to identify the
young man, but he could see that she knew who he was.  With his partner
there, he hadn't been able to ask anything else or really talk to
Janette--or she to him.

Schanke was still eyeing him oddly, but hadn't actually asked him yet if
he was a vampire, nor blurted out his suspicions.  Nick wasn't sure
whether his partner was afraid of what he'd do or if he simply hadn't
decided if he was one or not.  His partner had, after all, seen him in
full daylight once--no vampire could do that.

Later, back at the precinct, they found the phone records of their
'suspect' had been delivered to his desk.  Both the account and the
apartment were in the name of a Byron Morrell.  He was supposedly
twenty-three, but Nick suspected that was likely Byron's full age.  He
appeared no more than seventeen or eighteen.

Taking a chance, he told Schanke to make an extra copy of the records.
Schanke had given him another strange look, but made the copy without
asking any questions.  On the list he recognised Merlin's number, but
there were two other numbers that had called him or been called multiple
times in the last twenty-four hours.  None of the numbers was his own,
at least.

"Schanke," Schmidt said, approaching their desks, "See if you can help
Anderson."  Then he disappeared back down the hall, before Schanke
managed to stand up or protest that computers hated him.

"I guess you get to do this, then, Knight...even *more* tedious than
what Anderson is doing.  Not sure what help he thinks I'll be able to
give...computers hate me.  Myra says I got some sort of aura that drives
them haywire.  So you'll have all this done by the time I'm back, won't
ya?" Schanke said, then stood and started toward the conference room,
not really waiting or expecting a response.

Nick stood and caught his partner's arm as he passed.  "If you can, make
a copy of those files without being seen."

"Nick--"

"Only if you want to," he added in a whisper, then sat down.  After
several seconds he heard Schanke walk away.  He hoped he hadn't made a
mistake by asking his partner to copy the files, but he wanted those
files and, whatever Schanke suspected, his friend hadn't yet turned him
in.  While he didn't feel comfortable giving his partner more reason to
suspect him, Nick felt he could be trusted.  Or he sincerely hoped he
could.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (007/111)

An hour before dawn, Natalie rode up in the elevator at Nick's place, a
thin file in her hands.  It was a copy of the sorted lists, with names
flagged that possibly matched the two wounds.  Entering the loft, she
was surprised to find the kitchen light on and a laptop computer sitting
on the table.  It wasn't his.  "Nick?"

She put her purse down and started over to the stairs, only to see a man
with short dark hair she had never seen before step out of the shadows.

"Who are you?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"Her name is Dr. Lambert," said another voice behind her.

Natalie turned and found the young vampire Nick and Schanke had brought
in to the precinct examining her rather curiously.

"You're Nicholas' mortal friend, right?" the older of the two men asked.

"Er, yeah, I suppose I am," she answered, feeling odd at being addressed
that way.  "Is Nick here?"

"No," the first man asked.

The younger one started to circle the mortal woman, then eventually
asked, his voice wavering, "Will you still remove the bullet?"

Natalie then looked, noticing the vampire's t-shirt matched what he had
been wearing earlier that night, and an angry wound peeked through a
faintly bloody bullet hole in the thin fabric.  "Sure, I can do that.
Give me a second."

She went to the bathroom on the lower level and opened the second drawer
down.  Considering how many times she had dug bullets out of Nick, she
had decided to keep some supplies here--including gloves, a scalpel and
forceps--in case she didn't have her medical bag.  They weren't
sterilised, but she knew it wasn't really necessary with vampires.
Returning, she said, "Er, sit down and take off your shirt."

The younger man hesitated, but did as instructed.

"Do you know why Nicholas asked us here?" the older man asked when
Natalie pulled another chair over.

"No, I haven't been able to talk to him all night," she answered, a bit
taken aback by the question.  "When did he--"  She stopped speaking when
a card was offered to her.  Taking it and flipping it over, she saw the
word 'dawn' written under Nick's address.

"He gave me the card when that mortal let me leave."

She glanced at the younger man before turning back to the man who had
given her the card.  "And you're...?"

"Larry Merlin."

When he didn't say anything else, Natalie turned back to the injured
vampire.  Donning the gloves and picking up the forceps, she said,
"This'll probably hurt, at least a little.  Sorry."  After he nodded and
closed his eyes, she barely touched his skin before he flinched and
pulled away.  She soon found that this vampire squirmed far more than
Nick ever did.  He didn't seem at all comfortable around her.

As she started to make a second attempt, the elevator started up,
causing the young man to push her arm away and stand up.  Both he and
Merlin retreated to their earlier hiding places.  "What's wrong?" she
asked.

"He has a mortal with him!" Merlin said, his tone harsh.  For the first
time, he looked non-business-like.

Schanke.  It had to be Schanke.

Natalie quickly put the forceps down and removed the gloves, then stood
so that the items wouldn't be immediately visible from the door.

As the elevator door opened, Nick came in, moved off to the side, and
held out his hand.  "Give me the discs, Schanke."

"I already explained that the files are password protected and probably
encrypted, whatever that means.  Anderson and that tech hadn't managed
to..."  Schanke trailed off under his partner's glare, then fumbled in
his pockets for a few seconds.  "Ah, come on, I know they're here...they
better be here, it took me hours to--aha!"  he continued until he had
finally found the three floppy discs, which he handed to his partner.

"You can come out now; it's safe," Nick said to the corner where the two
vampires had hidden.

"What--" Schanke started, but then stopped, seeing two men come out into
the open.  One he vaguely recognised, as if he had seen the man in
passing.  The second was the vampire they had brought in the previous
afternoon.

"Schanke, meet Larry Merlin and--I'm assuming--Byron Morrell."

The mortal detective tensed at the names.  The first matched one of the
phone numbers on the latter's telephone records.  "Are they--are they
both vampires?" he asked, although he already knew the younger man was.

"Yes, they are," Nick answered without turning around.

"And you're one of them, too, aren't you?"

This time he hesitated, but again answered, "Yeah, Skank, I am."

"And, er," Schanke started, looking over to Natalie even though he had
seen her tested, so she obviously wasn't a vampire.  "Hi, Natalie.
Guess you already knew, huh?"

"She knew," Nick said and glanced back at his only slightly-stunned
partner for a second, then walked toward Byron, held out the discs, and
told him, "Open the files.  And next time, if the police come knocking,
don't even try to run...unless you can get away without being seen."

Byron took the discs nervously, then went to the laptop on the table,
shooting glances toward both of the detectives.

"What's on the discs, anyway?" Schanke asked, his curiosity overpowering
the weirdness of the situation.  "Schmidt said he--you--were hacking
into their files."
 
"He's right.  I was," Byron answered blithely.  "I found out who they
are.  I don't know exactly what I got, though."

Byron started the computer up, slid the discs in, then entered his
password, followed by a second set of keystrokes.  "There," he said,
getting up.  Merlin took his place, and Natalie gestured Byron toward
the other chair again.

"Nick, I didn't tell Schmidt about you and Janette."

"I know."  Nick managed a smile.  "You didn't have to lie."  He walked
over to the fridge, pulled out one of the bottles, yanked out the cork,
and took a long swig.

Having heard Nick's actions, Merlin stopped what he was doing and said,
"Nick, you should know LaCroix switched--" but it was too late and he
winced.

Surprised by the unexpected, strong flavour, Nick made a face at the
taste of the human blood.  He was tempted to go to the sink and spit it
out.  Only Schanke being there stopped him, and he reluctantly
swallowed.

"He came by about an hour ago, complaining about that swill of yours.
He poured it all down the drain.  I couldn't stop him."

"Swill?" Schanke repeated, his forehead scrunching.  "As in--what--Pig?"

"Actually, it was cow's blood.  Which you should remember from--"

"Can't you sit still more than a few seconds?!" Natalie half-yelled as
Byron jerked back when she tried again to go after the bullet with the
forceps.  "You squirm as much as a three-year-old."

Abashed, the young vampire apologised, "Sorry.  It's just that I'm not
used to being this close to mortals."

"Never been shot before either, right?" she asked, a lighter tone in her
voice.

Byron nodded, then closed his eyes again, trying to brace himself
against the chair while the mortal woman dug for the bullet once more.
This time she managed to get it, and he clenched his jaw as the wood was
dragged painfully through his flesh until it was free.

Nick set the bottle of blood in front of Byron, who eagerly drank from
the green container.

"I guess that's--" Schanke started, eyeing the bottle.

"Yeah, Skank, it's blood.  Human blood," Nick answered.

"Nick, what do you know about this?" Merlin abruptly asked.  "It looks
like some sort of...transcript." 

He went around to stand behind Merlin, and after reading the first few
paragraphs, he stated, "Schmidt said they were planning to air something
on the news once we'd been revealed; this could be their script...or,
yes, a transcript."

"Does it say anything about who they are?  What company or agency or
whoever is behind this?" Schanke asked, walking over to them.  "We still
haven't managed to get diddly-squat about that from Schmidt."

Merlin scanned the file.  "As a matter of fact, it does.  They refer to
themselves as--"

"The Banik-Pfenning Foundation," Byron answered, pulling his shirt back
on.

"Hmm.  Yes.  But this states that they're a non-profit.  That could be
useful, but I don't see how that gives them any authority of any kind.
It's not like they're a government agency.  I'll have to--"

"Before you read that whole file," Nick started, retrieving the extra
printout of Byron's phone records, "I should ask if you have anything
that you don't want found?"

Merlin took the paper and abruptly stood up after seeing his number.
"Do they have my name?"

"Yes, although I didn't hand it over until close to when we left.  I
purposely didn't spend as much time as I should have looking up those
numbers.  I know one is your home number.  I'm not sure about the other
two, but--"

"But, I understand.  Thank you, Nicholas.  And since I believe LaCroix
called me from here, if they're following up on the phone records,
then--"

Nick nodded.  "I know, it'll lead back to me."

"I'll see if young Byron here can make that information scarce.  I know
LaCroix doesn't want your involvement in this to be discovered."  He
then turned to the younger vampire and said, "Come with me.  I need help
moving some files in case the mortals drop by.  Nick, do you have more
copies of that list LaCroix gave me?"

"I can make some more," Natalie answered.

Merlin turned toward the mortal woman and paused, thinking, a smile not
quite reaching his features.  "Nick...could I borrow your friend for a
task today?"

"Depends upon what it is and whether she's willing," he said with a
glare, his eyes narrowed.

Merlin looked away and, after telling Byron to shut the computer down,
nervously approached Natalie, under her friend's watchful gaze.  "I
can't take the discs with me, not if there's a chance I'll be getting
visitors today.  Never mind that I'm not sure if I'll get stuck there or
have to find other shelter."

"Get to the point."

"Would your friend consent to taking the discs for now, and either
taking them to another of us, or possibly picking Byron and myself up in
a few hours?"  Watching Nick turn to Natalie, Merlin added, "We would
really appreciate it."

"Nick--"

"It's your choice, Nat.  But until we know more, it...it might be best
for Merlin not to be found."

"The files I'm concerned about contain personal information regarding
other vampires.  Including Nick, I might add."

She nodded, even before he said the last.

"Thank you, Dr. Lambert," he said with a slight old-world bow.  He went
back to the table, pulled out a small notebook, and wrote down two
addresses.  Next he asked Byron for the password he'd used to open the
files, which he also noted.  Returning, he ripped the paper out of the
notebook and handed it to Natalie, along with the discs.  "The first
address is my home.  The second is where to take the discs if we
get...detained."

Once Natalie accepted the discs, Merlin nodded to Nick, glanced somewhat
strangely at Schanke, then he and Byron walked over to the elevator and
left.

"So, how come I got to stay and hear all of that?" Schanke asked.
"You're not going to zap my--"

Nick shook his head.  "No, I won't make you forget."

"But you could, right?  I mean...you could make me forget all of this."

"I could...but I won't."  He looked away.  "Natalie--"

"I'm going to go ahead and leave," she answered, holding up the small
sheet of paper with Merlin's address on it and sensing the two needed
some time alone for a nice, long chat.  "I'll see you in...maybe an hour
or so?"

He nodded, then watched Natalie leave via the stairs.

Schanke fidgeted a bit...just until he and his partner were alone.  "I
guess this explains a few things.  You being, er...one of them."

"Probably."

"Like...how you can 'go round back' when we're on the fourth floor."

"Definitely," Nick answered with a smile.

"So, that Merlin, is he *the*--"

"No," Nick replied, not quite able to suppress a chuckle.  "He's not old
enough, for one.  And any magic he works is with information, not the
supernatural."

Schanke fidgeted, then blatantly asked, "Do you guys deliberately pick
names like that?  I mean Merlin, Knight...even Janette's last name is a
bit--"

"Well, sometimes.  But not always."

"So, is Nick or, I guess, Nicholas, even your real name?  I know Knight
probably isn't, but Janette calls you--"

"Yeah, it's my real name...my given name anyway."  Nick turned back to
look at his partner, who now seemed to be getting quite nervous.  "Sit
down, Schanke.  And relax," he said, gesturing to the kitchen table,
which was now bare, other than the half-empty bottle of human blood.
Leading the way, he moved the bottle to the counter as Schanke sat down
at one end, where the computer had been set up.  He sat at the opposite
end, hoping the distance would calm Schanke's nerves a bit and get him
to relax, and said, "I'm sure you have questions."
 
"Sure.  Right.  Like, uh...  Okay, here's one.  How come you didn't get
burned at the Raven?  Schmidt said a vampire couldn't--"

"He's right.  But I did burn...a little.  And I burnt my hand--the one I
wasn't using to hold the light--when I tested LaCroix."

Schanke's brow furrowed.  "But...they were completely gone after,
and--well, Janette's weren't.  Not completely.  She still had a red
splotch on her wrist, and she was the first one tested.  So how does
that work?"

Nick forced himself to keep his attention on his partner.  He had hoped
he wouldn't have to explain what he had been doing at the Raven.  "What
burns I had healed unusually fast because I had fed so recently...and
not on cow's blood...or even human blood."  He waited, and after a few
seconds, saw comprehension dawn on his partner's features.

"So you--"  Schanke's features blanked again for a moment, then he
snapped his fingers.  "I got it now.  I think.  You fed from LaCroix,
right?  Those were your bite marks on his neck.  You're who did that."
Finishing, Schanke's eyes went wide as what he said sunk in, and he
leaned back in his chair.  Then he slumped a bit.  "Or did you?  I think
that kind of makes sense...maybe?"

Nick grimaced slightly, then nodded reluctantly and explained, "Yeah,
Skank, I'm the one who did that.  I was late for work because...I was
too--let's just say I was really on-edge--and I needed
something...stronger...before going to work.  So I fed from LaCroix.
Twice.  And drank about half a bottle of human blood to calm me down.
His blood also prevented the burns from being as bad as they otherwise
would have been."

Schanke showed no sign of having been enlightened.  In fact, his eyes
narrowed.  "Why?"

"He...is substantially older than I, so his blood is more...powerful."

"No, I mean--why feed from another vampire?  And why would he let you do
that?  His show gives the impression he's more likely to...well...you
know..."

"LaCroix is...he's the vampire who brought me across--made me a
vampire," Nick stated, then waited for Schanke to say something.

"So he's like a...what?  Father?"  Getting a nod, the mortal then asked,
"And Janette, how long have you really known her?  I take it it's longer
than just a few years...decade or whatever it would have been since..."
He paused and nearly snorted.  "Heck, you probably didn't even go to
college."

"Actually, I did, Skank, but that's--"  Nick held his hands up for a
moment, then began again.  "Janette is another of LaCroix'...children.
I've known her the entire time I've been a vampire."

"Which is how long, exactly?"

Nick hesitated at this, then easily answered, "767 years.  I am 801
years old, Skank."

Schanke's eyes widened again and he had to fight to not stand up.  His
partner was a lot older than he had figured--although, honestly, it
kinda fit.  Then he felt slightly sick.  How many people had he killed
in all that time?

"Schanke?"

"I'm, er, fine," his friend replied nervously.

"Sorry, but your heart says otherwise.  What did my age make you think
about?"

"How...how many people you've killed," he replied, swallowing.

Nick flinched and leaned back in his chair, averting his gaze.  "A lot,
Schanke.  Too many to count," he eventually answered, his voice barely
over a whisper.  "I'm not proud of what I've done."  He sighed before
continuing, "If it helps, I've mostly drunk cow's blood for the last
century.  And for a long time before that, whenever possible I tried
taking only from those who deserved it."

Schanke didn't like the comment, but forced himself to remain calm.
"But you've also killed people who didn't...deserve it, right?"

He nodded.  "Yes, I have."  Looking away again, he added, "And I have
outright murdered people, Schanke."  Again his partner appeared
downright ill, but he resisted the urge to speak or somehow qualify his
response.

"Was it something you...something you wanted to do?  Something
you...enjoyed?" he forced out past the large lump in his throat.

"That's...complicated," he answered, having no desire to talk about
this.

"No, it's not, Nick!"

"Yes, it is!" he hissed, not able to hide his anger, despite that it was
mainly at himself.

Schanke couldn't help jumping backwards, nearly toppling his chair at
the sudden flash of fangs and dark look in the other man's eyes.
"Jeeze, Louise, and damn it to Hell, Nick!  You trying to give me a
heart attack?  All I asked was a simple question.  And for the record, I
still want an answer.  Just don't do that again, all right?"  His
fingers clenched the edge of the table to keep himself in place.

Nick regained control and tried to explain, "Sorry, Skank.  I just...
You have no idea how hard this is for me...to talk to you like this, to
answer your questions, to tell you the truth."

"I still want an answer, though."

"Do you?  Really?"

"Yeah, I do."

Nick paused to gather his mental strength for a moment before
continuing.  "The truth is that, yes, I have taken pleasure from murder.
I've...usually...regretted it after, but I can't deny that killing
is...enjoyable.  Even if I don't want to enjoy it, the *act* of killing,
regardless of how or why, is physically enjoyable, at least on a
biological basis.  It's like...a 'high' might be the best way to
describe it.  Blood is almost like a drug to us, but it's also necessary
for our survival.  A vampire can't help but enjoy killing...fresh blood,
warm blood like that...  It's hard-wired into us; it's just the way we
are.  But..."  He shook his head, not wanting to think about it.  Even
talking about this was making him feel...  "Killing isn't necessary
anymore, though, Skank."

"And you do...regret it.  At least you do now, right?" he asked after
mulling over his partner's words and the way he answered.

"Very much so."  Nick was sombre at first, then smiled briefly after a
moment.  "And that, of course, annoys LaCroix to no end."

Schanke considered asking if they were very close because of that or at
odds, but thought better not to.  It did at least make him feel better
to know that Nick felt bad for the things he had done...even if he was a
vampire and had apparently killed God-only-knows-how-many people.
Frankly, when he had realised his partner probably was a vampire, he
couldn't believe it--the guy just didn't seem like a killer, not really.
But other things fell into place.  "So," he eventually started, trying
to think of a new line of questions.  "Those things on that sheet
Schmidt gave us--"

"That list is, I have to admit, an extremely accurate description of our
abilities and differences."

He narrowed his eyes.  "How accurate?"

"Far too accurate.  Natalie thinks a vampire is either working with them
or, more likely, that one or more of us are or were being...held."

After a second he nodded, then frowned, another question coming to mind.
"So how come Natalie knows what you are?  And how long has she known the
truth about you?"

At this, Nick's mood changed and he smiled.  "I was sort of a...birthday
present."

"What do you mean?"

"A little more than five years ago, I got myself...blown up.  Woke up on
her table at the morgue on her birthday."

"Blown up?  Really?  Gee, I thought that stuff only happened in the
movies.  You actually woke up...on her table...at the morgue?"

Nick nodded and grinned.  "Yeah, I did.  Body bag and all."

Schanke rolled his eyes and laughed.  "Man, what I wouldn't give to have
seen that!"

"I knew she was scared, of course, but..."  Nick smiled again, looking
to the table.  "She surprised me.  She held her ground.  Brave, even for
someone of this time."

Schanke nodded.  "That she is.  She's obviously got a bigger set than
most guys I know.  In fact, maybe 'Gutsy' should be her middle name.
After all, she's brave as all get-out, and, well, it kinda describes her
job too, you know."

Nick grimaced and shook his head.  "I really don't think she'd go for
that, Schanke.  Anyway, to get back to my story...you do want me to
finish that, right?"

"Yeah.  No more interruptions, promise."

Nick almost smiled, then continued, "Well, there I was, injured,
starving, and obviously something more than human.  Especially once I
drained a bag of blood right in front of her.  I certainly didn't want
her to remember any of that, but...obviously I couldn't make her forget
about me.  I tried, but she recognised me later...and remembered.
Everything.  She was...more than mildly upset when we met again."

"I'll bet."  Then, even though it hadn't been his case, Schanke suddenly
recalled it.  "Ha!"  He snapped his fingers as he abruptly exclaimed,
"You were Natalie's missing body, weren't you?  The one that eventually
got passed off as some joke no one wanted to fess up to?  It was, what,
half a year or so before you joined the force here?"

Nick continued with his knowing half-smile.

"And, as they say, that was that, huh?"

"More or less."  Nick stood and, picking up his remote, closed the
shutters over the windows, which were now letting in sunlight.  Dawn had
arrived.

"Wait a sec..." Schanke started, thinking, the shutters coming down
reminding him of something.  "Wait one...I've seen you outside during
the day.  Full sunlight.  And *eating*.  You ate that whole--"

"Schanke..."  Nick quickly interrupted his partner.  He didn't
particularly want to explain how that particular day had been possible,
so he hesitantly nudged the other man's mind, "*No, you didn't.  You
never saw me outside under full sunlight.  Nor have you ever seen me
eat.*"

"Never seen..." Schanke muttered.

"*You're getting tired and...Myra is probably worrying,*" he added, then
abruptly broke off his stare, hoping his meddling wouldn't be noticed.

Schanke stood up, slightly dazed, then stifled a yawn.  "You know, I
think I better call it a day and head home.  Myra is probably worrying
about me," he said, averting his gaze to the floor.

"Probably."

Schanke looked up to see the half-smile still on his partner's face.  "I
won't say anything, Partner.  I promise."

Pleased to hear the word 'partner' still applied to their relationship,
Nick replied, "I know.  And, no offence, but hopefully I won't see you
until after sunset tonight."

Schanke nodded as he walked toward the elevator and waited for it to
come up.  "Do show up on time, though, okay?"

Nick smiled at that and Schanke grinned back as the elevator door shut
between them.

Then he suddenly felt bad about what he had done, 'convincing' his
unknowing partner to drop the sensitive subject and go back home to his
wife, knowing that he would certainly have come up with more questions.

What he had done was risky, especially since Schanke now knew he could
do it.  And, he knew, it probably wouldn't work as reliably because of
that.  His partner had likely only complied because the first idea, his
mind couldn't reconcile, and the explanation that he hadn't seen it made
more sense than what had actually happened.  And he knew deep down that
Schanke had probably been thinking the second, about being tired and his
wife worrying.  They had, after all, nearly pulled a double-shift.

It didn't make Nick feel any better, however, and he turned around, his
eyes immediately locking on the bottle of human blood on the counter.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (008/111)

Natalie arrived back at Nick's a couple of hours after sunrise, still
faintly surprised that he had been hesitant about letting her help his
two 'guests'.  Larry Merlin's information, it turned out, was the
fabricated personal information of countless vampires.  And not only in
Toronto, but elsewhere as well.  For decades, perhaps centuries, he had
set up vampires with fake backgrounds.  His most recent fictitious
documentation, of course, was of the electronic variety, but he still
had records of that added information.

Initially she had thought Merlin was a lawyer or accountant of some
sort, not pretty much the same thing that Byron was--a computer hacker.
The two's specialities were quite opposite, however.  Byron was the more
typical computer geek and borderline criminal who broke into records and
seized information.  Merlin...from what she gathered, he instead made
new information 'magically' appear in records and databases where there
had been none before, and she could see why he might have picked that
name.

She hadn't really needed to help them much.  By the time she had found
the address--a rather plain and normal two-story house--the men had
already gathered up everything of importance.  She didn't get to do much
more than walk up and ring the doorbell.

The second address, it turned out, was fairly close to Nick's place.  It
was a warehouse and not so much a home as a place to hide for the day
and, she suspected, stash the files and Merlin's computer for the time
being.  The two didn't talk much around her, but it sounded to her like
they might be burning the documents in the boxes that day.

In both cases, she had done most of the carrying to and from her
car--which was the main reason it had taken so long.  The sun had come
up shortly before she arrived at the house, making it difficult and
frankly dangerous for the vampires to help.  She hadn't minded, although
she now felt slightly stiff on her ride up in the elevator.  File
boxes--rather full ones at that--and computers weren't exactly the
lightest things to lug about, even taking into account that her job
regularly included the rather strenuous physical activity of
manipulating and manoeuvring corpses into various positions for
examination purposes.

Pulling the elevator door open, Natalie found the loft dark.  She had
half-expected to find Nick sitting on the sofa waiting for her, but he
wasn't.  Dropping her purse and jacket off at the kitchen table, she
headed quietly up to the bedroom.

There, nearly in the middle of the bed, halfway between a foetal
position and the typical sleeping vampire position, Nick dozed, still
dressed in his work clothes.  It looked like he was dreaming or, knowing
him, probably having some nightmare.

Carefully she sat on the edge of the bed, but he didn't wake.  She put
one hand over his crossed hands and the other up to his face.

Nick woke with a start.  Out of instinct he grabbed the hand that
touched his and sat up, only to find himself yellow-eyed and
face-to-face with Natalie.

"Shh, Nick, it's only me, Natalie," she whispered, seeing him change
apparently out of surprise or fear.  He didn't react to her words, at
which she touched his face once more with her free hand.  "Nick?"

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, trying to push the vampire away.
He was on edge and felt oddly vulnerable.  However, he knew exactly why.
He hadn't fed after finding that not only had LaCroix switched out the
blood in his refrigerator, but he had apparently also gotten rid of all
of the of cow's blood he had had in storage.  And he was still getting
used to vampires' existence being revealed to the world and that Schanke
now knew about him.  And then Natalie had gone with two vampires he
barely knew, and with that thought, he tensed, opened his eyes, and
asked, "Are you all right?  They didn't--"

"Sure, I'm fine."  She shrugged.  "They barely even talked to me.  I was
just their method of daytime transport and that was about it."  She
smiled at him, noting, "I think I'm the one who should be asking if
you're all right.  I'm sure this is harder on you than it is on me."

All he could manage was a nod.

"How did Schanke take it?"

"Surprisingly well, overall."  Nick averted his gaze.  "He remembered
my...my day in the sun.  I kind of made him forget that, and sent him
home at that point.  I don't think he noticed."

"Nick..."

"I know I shouldn't have, Nat, but..."  He shook his head.  "It's not
that I don't trust him, but we both know that Schanke's not exactly
subtle, and I'm not sure I want to tell him about my...quest.  I don't
want him to be afraid of me, yet I don't want him to be complacent
around me either, or think that other vampires are like me."  Then,
after pausing again, he told her, "And LaCroix apparently got rid of all
the cow's blood."

She remembered Nick's reaction to that; apparently he didn't remember
she had been there.  But the other vampire's action had created
problems, and she surmised, "And you won't be able to get any more
without drawing attention to yourself."

Again he nodded, his gaze again drifting away.  He hadn't really thought
about that, but Natalie was right.  He'd be stuck drinking human blood.
As LaCroix intended, of course.

"You should get some sleep," she said, pulling her hand out of his loose
grip and preparing to stand.  However, in an instant she found both of
her hands grabbed and held in place.  "Nick?"

"Stay the day," he whispered, pleading.  "Stay here with me.  Please?"

Natalie couldn't help but remember that not even two days ago he had
practically flown from the morgue because of a few simple kisses.  She
knew being close to her was hard for him, and staying here--which she
knew immediately to be *here*, specifically in the bed with him--would
be something he wouldn't have agreed to two days before.  "Nick, are
you--"

"It'll be fine."

She forced herself to smile, and slipped her shoes off as she continued
to look at him.

Nick had to let go of her hands for a moment, then rolled back while she
sat and shifted to position herself next to him.  He closed his eyes and
again held her, more loosely this time, and felt her warm breath against
his neck.  She was asleep long before he was, her warmth distracting
enough that he could think of little else for some time.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Nick woke suddenly that night, startled by a touch on the side of his
face.  Opening his eyes, there stood LaCroix, leaning over him.

"Dangerous, is it not?" he asked, glancing at the mortal, still asleep,
resting half atop his son.

Carefully, Nick moved, extricating himself from Natalie and getting up,
leaving her curled on the bed.  Then he took LaCroix roughly by the arm
and pushed him out of his bedroom.

"You haven't answered my question, Nicholas."

"She's in no danger.  I'm too distracted by what's happening...and what
will happen in the near future."

LaCroix merely nodded after a few seconds.

"Now why are you here?" Nick asked, starting down the stairs.

LaCroix flew down to the lower level, turning to face his son.  Once his
son finished descending the steps, he stated, "To warn you not to go by
the Raven."

"Why not?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"There are security cameras near the entrances.  I believe your fellow
detectives installed them there.  It would be...unwise...to be seen at
the club unnecessarily."

Nick nodded, thankful for the information and no longer angry at his
sire for coming.  "Have you learned anything more?"

"No, or nothing notable.  However...the news is starting to report some
strange occurrences."

"Such as?"

"The seemingly coordinated raids and the...strange testing."

He watched his sire; he was holding back.  "And?"

"And some of the mortals are telling what they witnessed.  At first,
only one came forward.  He was greeted with the much-expected derision.
However, that soon changed.  Others joined him.  When they were finally
taken seriously, many more added their voices, their experiences and
speculations.  'Testing for monsters,' they said.  Half-human demons
covertly living amongst them.  Changeling creatures that thrive on
darkness.  Vampires."  At the last, he paused.  Then his voice changed
and became more animated.  "On the other hand, we now know that other
locations than London and Phoenix had violent and bloody incidents.  One
of their agents was nearly drained to their death in Atlanta, another in
Salt Lake.  A detective died in San Francisco, another in Oslo.  Many
others were injured in numerous locales.  In Moscow...  Their whole team
perished when one of their police panicked and fired a machine gun...so
did many so-called 'innocent' mortals, in revenge."

"You sound as though you're happy about that, LaCroix."

The elder vampire raised an eyebrow.  "Perhaps I am.  Perhaps I dislike
being ambushed by these mortals and having my name added to their rather
questionable list!  Mark my words, Nicholas.  They will slaughter us,
and--"

"No, LaCroix.  It's not--"

"The mortals have discovered where we gather," he said, cutting his son
off, then he began to walk slowly around the younger man.  "Their method
readily proves that any determined mortal could make a list of those
locations.  I'm sure you can understand how that could be damaging to
us."  He stopped behind his son and whispered into his ear, "Isn't that
right, Nicholas?"

"Yes, I'm aware--"

"Find out when this news presentation will air.  Force it out of--"

"I can't force that information out of him!  He's a--"

Now LaCroix grinned--not a pleasant sight.  "So you have said.  You
*could* try coaxing it from him.  I know you, Nicholas.  You can do
it...if you try."

"Maybe," he replied, taking a step forward and away.  "If I can get him
alone, or maybe with just Natalie there, or Schanke--"

"You told him, didn't you?  Your...partner."

Nick closed his eyes, even though he was now facing away from LaCroix.
Obviously he had spoken with Merlin since the previous morning.  "I only
confirmed what he had already guessed.  We talked, and I...explained a
few things."

"Do you trust him?"

"I'm positive he lied to Schmidt earlier about how well I know or might
know you and Janette, long before I confirmed what I was this morning.
He's probably known for sure since yesterday afternoon, before he copied
those discs for me.  Merlin did mention them to you, yes?  Even if he
apparently didn't tell you anything else.  LaCroix?"

"Yes," he replied, the single word clearly reluctant.

"So, yes, I trust him."

LaCroix was about to nod in agreement when he heard movement from above,
at which he smiled.  "I believe your doctor friend is awake now,
Nicholas."

Nick turned and looked up at the balcony to see Natalie standing there,
still in her work clothes from the night before.  She looked a bit
nervous, undoubtedly because of LaCroix.  He closed his eyes when he
felt his sire brush up behind him and pull him gently back by his
shoulders.

"Be careful, Nicholas.  Do not attempt to get the information from
Schmidt if you believe you would be revealed.  I wish you to remain
safe, first and foremost."

The touch was gone and LaCroix left, flying out of sight.

"Nick?" Natalie called as she came down the stairs.

"It's fine.  He came to tell me there are security cameras outside the
Raven now."

"Was that all?"

"No.  The news is finally coming out that--vampires are becoming real."
Averting his eyes, he said, "LaCroix wants me to try and find out when
they intend to air the official announcement.  Through...encouragement,
if need be."

"But Schmidt's a resistor, right?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he can't be subtly influenced."

"Are you going to try?"

"I don't know.  Right now I'm hoping he'll simply tell us and I won't
have to ask."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Arriving at work, Nick was almost immediately approached and ordered to
be in the conference room at nine-thirty.  He hadn't even made it to his
desk yet.  When he finally did, he saw Schanke sitting across the way.
"Did he tell you--"

"Yeah, I know--conference room in half an hour.  He tell you what for?"

"No."  Nick sat down and sorted through the files on his desk to see if
there were any notes on what Briggs and Flanagan had done during the
day.  They had more or less gone back to working their usual shifts.

"Briggs and Flanagan went by that guy Merlin's home around noon, but
word is they didn't find squat.  No one home, nothing of interest.  Zip.
Just some blood in a cupboard.  *In a cupboard.*  Doesn't it go bad or
something?  Anyhoo, Flanagan mentioned that Schmidt didn't seem
concerned about it and told us not to dig any deeper into the phone
trail.  We're supposed to drop it, just let it go like it never
happened."

"Why?"

"Well..."  Schanke leaned forward a bit, "Flanagan had the impression
that Schmidt's people aren't overly concerned about a *vampire* hacking
in.  I guess they're more worried about one of *us* pulling that kind of
crap."

"He thought it could be someone else?"

"Yeah.  And they also added--"

"Cameras outside the Raven.  I heard," he finished his partner's
thought, his voice becoming a bit rougher.

Schanke nodded.

"Do you know why?"

"No.  Flanagan said something about Schmidt saying it'd make more sense
tonight.  I guess that means we're going to actually get an explanation
out of that guy...*finally*.  I think we should have gotten a better one
right from the start, but, hey...better late than never, right?"

"Maybe.  I sure hope so," Nick answered with a whisper.  He hoped the
guess was correct.  It'd be so much easier to get the information
LaCroix wanted if he didn't even have to ask...

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Half an hour later, Nick and Schanke headed to the conference room.
Everyone involved was there--all three pairs of detectives, Cohen, and
Natalie.  Off to one side of the room was a television that had been
turned on.  The broadcast.  Schmidt was going to show them the
broadcast.

The next hour proved fairly straightforward.  Schmidt had stated they
were being allowed to watch the broadcast ahead of time.  They were each
given a printout of the transcript and told to make whatever notes they
wished.

The broadcast itself proved interesting.  It was pretty much an hour of
reiterating that, yes, vampires were real and that this was not some
spoof news program.  It also mentioned that the organisation behind this
elaborate revelation--the Banik-Pfenning Foundation--had acted with full
support of both national and local governments, and that they would
continue to work with local police and government in all major cities,
possibly indefinitely.  It didn't, however, explain anything about the
Foundation itself, nor whether they had brought the information to the
government or if this task had been assigned to them.

Nick had been somewhat surprised that the program also did not provide
extensive details about vampires themselves.  In fact, the only real
comments made were their extreme sensitivity to sunlight, that they did
not age, and that they did indeed survive on blood.  Everything else was
glossed over by those actually speaking, who kept turning the
conversation back to the bigger picture, although they did say that more
details would be forthcoming.

The tape also explained the reason for the cameras.  Not explicitly, but
the program emphasised that vampires should not be treated differently
than anyone else and that any crimes against them would result in an
arrest.  The cameras were there to record and possibly help identify any
mortals who might decide to target them.

It was strange to consider vampires needing protection, and Nick
wondered how his co-workers--particularly the other detectives and
Cohen--felt about that part of the statement.  Specifically the bit that
vampires were essentially going to be legally protected, or at least
that they were not to be treated especially harshly.  Would that policy
be accepted by the public, or would it only fuel hatred against them?

Even he wasn't sure about it.  It was good that vampires weren't being
described from the start as some kind of demon or half-human creature
that existed with the sole purpose of killing.  In fact, the broadcast
even emphasised that most vampires did not kill for their survival, and
that they should be treated as individuals and judged on their own
merit.  It also reasoned that vampires, as a whole, had co-existed
peacefully with humans enough that their existence was questioned even
now...when things were little different than a week before.  It seemed
too good to last.  How many mortals would disagree with the comments?
How many would panic, even though they were told specifically not to?
Or perhaps they would panic simply because they were told not to.

"So, questions?" Schmidt asked a couple of minutes after the tape had
been turned off and started to rewind.

"What if a vampire commits a crime?" Anderson asked.  "Do we arrest
them?  And if so, how--"

Schmidt raised a hand and cut him off.  "That will be up to national and
local governments.  Besides, from what we understand of their abilities,
I believe they are unlikely to be caught."

"But that's why we took those measurements," Natalie stated.  "So if
someone turns up dead and has bite wounds, we might be able to link them
to a particular suspect."

"Or clear them, as the case may be."

"And the cameras we placed earlier today--" Flanagan started.

"Are there to protect them against those who may attempt to harm them,"
Schmidt replied.  "As we all know, vampires do not have a good
reputation--at least not from their portrayals in literature and
film--and we fully expect some citizens will either threaten them or try
to harm them."

"Do they even know what we're trying to do?  Or--I mean, they wouldn't
talk to us earlier, when we put the cameras up.  We're only assuming
they could hear us explain what we were doing, but we didn't get any
acknowledgement.  Shouldn't it be their choice?"
 
"If they take them down, we won't put them back up, but we installed
them because the club could become a target, and cameras can be an
effective crime deterrent."

Anderson asked another question, "Are they as bad as the books and
legends say?  Are they really that violent and dangerous?  That brutal
and uncaring?  They didn't seem that bad at the Raven the other night,
just...well, frightened.  The broadcast glossed over that...although it
did make a good point.  They've lived among us for centuries, millennia,
maybe since the beginning of modern humans, and we're only now finding
out that they're real?  From what I saw, I think they're more afraid of
us than we are of them, but the public is going to wonder...especially
when they find out vampires are a lot like the legends and myths."

At this, Schmidt appeared to become nervous.  "Honestly, we're not sure,
but my organisation does not believe so--at least not the majority of
them.  We suspect that some live almost entirely separate from us, and
some--perhaps even many--very likely work peacefully with us every day
without drawing suspicion about what they are."

"When do they intend to air this to the public?" Nick asked now that
their questions were being answered, hoping both to change the subject
and to get his answer for LaCroix.

"Tomorrow.  It will be aired on this continent twice, around noon,
Eastern time first, and again at five or six in the evening, local time.
It will also be aired once more the following day."  He paused, then
continued, "Which brings me to reminding all of you that we are not to
answer any questions with information beyond anything stated in the
broadcast.  And, after tomorrow evening's news, all of us--except for
Dr. Lambert--will probably be identified as being involved with this
situation."  Again, Schmidt stopped for a few seconds.  "If you have
more questions, you can ask them later.  For now, I need to speak to
Detectives Knight and Schanke and Dr. Lambert for a moment."

The others left, then only the four of them remained.  "What--" Nick
started to ask, but was immediately cut off.

"I'm sorry, Knight, but I've been asked to have you retested."

Nick tensed.  He had no chance of passing the light test.

"However, since you have a documented history of intolerance to
sunlight, it makes the usual test rather ambiguous.  As I understand it,
you could test positive due to your cumulative exposure to UV light over
the last couple of days.  Rather than waste time with that, Dr. Lambert
will need a blood sample from you so she can run a few specific tests on
it."  He pulled a piece of paper out of a file folder in front of him
and handed it to Natalie.  "Follow those instructions and notify me of
the results as soon as they're complete."

Natalie glanced at the sheet and nodded.  "I'll have to have Nick come
by the morgue."

"Yes, of course," he agreed.  "And after that, I want you two to go to
the Raven.  Ask Janette DuCharme if she would consent to be the point of
contact between us and the vampires here in Toronto.  Let her know that
she doesn't have to answer immediately."

"And if she says no?" Nick asked, taking the sheet of paper.

"See if she knows someone who would be willing to do so."  Schmidt
pulled out another sheet of paper from his folder and passed it to Nick.
"This is in case it isn't safe."

He took it and scanned the sheet.  It was a short letter, basically
asking that one question.  At the end it also mentioned the broadcast
and the air times.  He passed the paper to Schanke.

Reaching the end of the letter, Schanke asked, "So you're all hunky-dory
with us telling her about the news thing, huh?  I thought we weren't
supposed to reveal anything the public doesn't know."

"Well...first she'll have to open the door for you," he pointed out.
For a split-second he almost smiled, then became more serious, relating,
"She wouldn't let me, Briggs, or Flanagan enter earlier today.  She
wouldn't even acknowledge we were there.  I'm hoping you two might have
more luck, since you have both previously met her.  And she's certainly
not a member of the general public; she's just as involved in all of
this as we are."

Nick nodded, but became tense again.  Schmidt had at some point decided
that he and Schanke would the detectives to be the other side of
whatever contact needed done.  He would have laughed if he were alone.
A vampire pretending to be a police detective liaison to mediate with
the vampires...



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (009/111)

Nick and Schanke met Natalie at the morgue, where Schanke immediately
volunteered the use of his blood for his partner's tests, which would
include putting it on a slide and exposing it to the black light,
although she knew that Nick's own blood would also fail the other
required tests, particularly the electrolytes and a CBC panel.

Afterwards, the two detectives left for the Raven.  The drive was
unusually quiet, as they kept their thoughts to themselves.

"Do you think Janette will let us in?" Schanke finally asked after they
pulled up and parked right outside the front entrance.

"She should.  But if she does, be careful.  I don't know if the club has
reopened--I doubt it has--but even if it hasn't..."

Schanke nodded, and they both got out and went to the entrance...which
was locked.  The Raven was not open.  Nick rapped loudly on the door.
After a couple more tries, the second asking for Janette, the door
finally opened to reveal the vampiress.

"Detectives Knight and Schanke.  We need to speak with you," he said,
flashing his badge.  "Official business."

Janette sent a glare sideways toward Schanke.

"Please, Janette," Nick pleaded.

She took in a quick breath, took a step back, and reluctantly let them
in.

Schanke scanned the darkness once the door was shut behind him and
immediately felt nervous.  There were many sets of eyes staring at him,
some golden and clearly not pleased with his presence there.

"Skank, follow Janette," Nick whispered, pushing his mortal partner
forward in front of him, so that Schanke walked between Janette and
himself.

Janette turned and led the way into a room off the club.  Once the door
was shut behind them, she rounded on her brother.  "You should not have
brought him here!" she said, glancing again at Schanke.

"He knows what I am."

"I know.  LaCroix told me.  I would not have let you in otherwise."

Schanke chimed in, "And I have a feeling Nick here really shouldn't be
seen going here alone.  Besides, Schmidt sent us--both of us."

Janette stiffened.

"What's with--" Schanke started, then canted his head back toward the
door.

"They are frightened, Detective.  What would you expect?"

"Yeah, but--"

"They do not like having a mortal in here after two nights ago,
particularly not one of those same mortals who participated in...forcing
us to identify ourselves."  She looked away from the mortal and to her
brother, her features softening a little.  "Now, why have you come,
Nicolas?  LaCroix mentioned the cameras, oui?"

"Yes.  Schmidt sent us to ask if you would be the liaison between us and
them--or--"

"'Us', Nicolas?" she asked, stepping toward him with an odd smile.

"You know what I mean, Janette."

"Hmm, just don't slip up around the mortals," she said, continuing with
her pleased tone.  Momentarily she stiffened slightly and asked, "Must I
decide now?"

"No."  Nick pulled out the letter.  "Here.  We were supposed to give
this to you if you refused to let us in.  But it also has the scheduled
times of the broadcast.  He wanted to know when it will air." 

"He?" Schanke abruptly asked.

"LaCroix," he said, glancing to his partner.  "Janette--"

"You really should go.  Both of you," she said, turning first to
Schanke, then to her brother.   "Some of the young ones aren't exactly
thrilled about your...lucky escape."

"It wasn't all that lucky.  They're retesting him--a blood test this
time--using my blood," Schanke said.  "They won't know it's mine, of
course."

At this, she became concerned, her earlier mood instantly vanishing.
"Is this true?"

Nick nodded.  "Unfortunately, it is.  Apparently Schmidt's organisation
or possibly someone else wants to make sure I'm not a vampire.  I'm
lucky he's having Natalie do the test rather than someone else."

"And lucky he's got me," Schanke added proudly.  "Just doing my part to
keep the cat from getting outta the bag, if you know what I mean."

Nick nodded, then sighed.  "Come on, Schanke," he said, turning toward
the door, but Janette moved easily around him and held it closed for a
moment.

"Do be careful, Nicolas."

"I will, I promise," he said, locking eyes with her for a long moment
before moving toward the exit.

Janette pulled the door open.  "All of you, away!" she hissed at the
young vampires who had crowded around the door.  Many of them moved
back, but only a few steps.

Nick started for the door and the young ones backed out of his way,
giving him a wide berth, but one of them, a young woman with auburn
hair, closed back in and started for Schanke as he followed after his
partner.

"DO NOT TOUCH HIM!" Janette commanded, her eyes gold and her fangs
flashing at the young woman, who immediately cowered back from the other
vampiress.  "None of you!"

Leaving the club, the moment the door had shut, Schanke grabbed Nick's
arm.  "That woman, she--"

Instead of responding, Nick's gaze went to the closest of the new
cameras, then he quickly got in the Caddy and started it up.

Once they had pulled away from the curb, Schanke asked, "Okay, you wanna
clue me in on why they all backed away from you like that?"

"Because they know...who I am," he reluctantly answered.

"Which is?"

"You already know, Schanke."

He nearly replied that he didn't, then he recalled their conversation
from the previous morning.  Nick and Janette were both LaCroix'
children, and Nick was 800 years old.  Something clicked and he asked,
"So how old were those guys in the club?"

"Most, if not all, are probably not much older than they look.  Maybe
twice that for many of them.  A few might be close to a hundred.  Even
fewer would be older than that.  Or that would be my guess."

Schanke tensed a bit.  "So that's why they backed away from you?  Just
because you're old?  Well...not just old, but *older* than them?" he
amended.

"Yes," he replied.  "Or most of it.  For us, age really equals power.
We get stronger the older we are.  And that big of an age
difference...well, you do the math.  And on top of that, they know *who*
I am."

Schanke then voiced his other thought, "Yeah, you're LaCroix', er,
'son'."

"Precisely.  They've...they've heard things about LaCroix."  Then,
having to stop for a red light, he added, "And I'm sure they've also
heard things about me.  Other things are inferred about me simply
because I'm...his."

"So they assume 'like father, like son', right?  Which means what,
exactly?"

The light changed to green, but Nick didn't react.

"Nick?"

"I'm sorry, but that's all I'm going to say about it," he finally
replied with a sigh, then finally drove through the intersection.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

That morning Natalie arrived at Nick's loft shortly before he was
supposed to be heading home.  She had taken his test results in to
Schmidt, but she hadn't been able to talk to Nick while she was at the
precinct.  The good news was that Schanke's blood had passed all the
tests with flying colours.

Setting her things down, she heard the water on upstairs, which was odd.
She hadn't expected Nick to be home yet, but maybe he had left early.
She waited a few minutes until she heard the water shut off, then she
headed up the stairs.  Stopping outside the bathroom door, she began,
"Nick, did Schmidt tell you the results of--?"

The door opened and she stopped talking, seeing not Nick, but LaCroix
standing there entirely naked, wearing only a self-satisfied smirk.

She shut her eyes and said, "I'm sorry, I thought you were Nick."

"Obviously I am not."

She felt him brush by her, purposely bumping into her.  "Why are you
here?"

"Tell Nicholas I wish to be woken for the initial airing of that news
program."

She turned to look at him, but he still hadn't put any clothes on.  He
also wasn't paying her any attention, not even to await a response to
his request.  "Fine," she said and left the room with an uncomfortable
shiver.

She had planned to stay at Nick's for the day, but with LaCroix staying
yet again--and thoroughly making himself at home--she wasn't sure if she
should simply write him a note and leave.  She closed her eyes, trying
to calm her thoughts.  She would wait until he got there, then let him
decide.  Assuming LaCroix stayed upstairs, anyway.

Ten minutes later, Natalie was sitting on the sofa when Nick arrived
home.  Immediately, realising that she was unsettled, he asked, "Is
something--"

"LaCroix.  He's upstairs."

"Did he say why he was here?"

"Only that he wanted you to wake him before that news thing airs.  And
you are definitely going to be the one to do that.  Not me."

"Why, did he--"

"He--I'm just not sure if he sleeps--suffice it to say, I've seen more
of him all at once than I have of you.  The shower was on and...I think
he did it on purpose.  He just came out and...ugh, enough on that."

He winced.  "Sorry about that.  Don't let him bother you, Nat."

"If you would rather I not stay--"

He walked over to the sofa, taking hold of Natalie's hands as she stood.
"No, I would like you to stay today.  Come, sit down," he said, sitting
and keeping hold of her hands, which forced her to sit next to him.  "I
do want you to stay, but if LaCroix being here bothers you, it's...it's
fine if you don't.  I'll understand."

She watched him glance down as he released her hands.  "No, I'll stay.
Besides, I can't exactly not let him bother me if I leave, right?" she
said, leaning forward to catch his gaze.

He smiled and nodded.  "Yeah, but he can be difficult to ignore."  He
felt Natalie pull him closer, and they leaned against each other and the
back of the sofa.

"Did Schmidt say anything about your test results?"

"Asked if my doctor has told me to watch my sodium.  Something to tease
Schanke about."

"Don't rub it in too much."

"But no, nothing to be concerned about.  He seemed satisfied with the
results.  Actually, I don't think he wanted to do the test in the first
place," he added, his momentary playful tone becoming tense.  "And we're
on call tonight.  In case the broadcast triggers anything."

After a couple of minutes of silence, Natalie nervously asked, "Will
it?"

"Yes."  He closed his eyes and leaned closer to her, even reaching
around her and letting his head rest next to hers.  "Somewhere,
sometime, it will trigger something.  It's inevitable.  Maybe not today,
or tonight, or here in Toronto, but we both know that the world really
hasn't changed to the point that vampires will be accepted."

"You're afraid, aren't you?" she asked, pulling back for a second.

"Yeah, Nat, I'm afraid.  I've been hunted more times than I can count,
but this...this is different.  It's not only me, LaCroix, and Janette,
but all vampires.  And with all of this new technology--"

"Technology would have discovered the existence of vampires eventually
anyway, wouldn't it?  At some point?"

"Probably, but now it will make it a lot more difficult for us to hide,
to disappear fully back into the shadows."

After a moment, he managed a smile and pulled Natalie closer again.
Then he leaned back and pulled her with him.  Once they both were lying
down, he whispered, "Don't worry.  Just try and get some sleep.  I
wouldn't put it past LaCroix to stay up all afternoon...and he'll
certainly be awake more than the hour or so necessary for the
broadcast."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (010/111)

Natalie started awake several hours later when the phone rang, only to
find that she was now alone on the sofa.  When the phone rang again, she
sat up, only half awake, and saw Nick reach for it from one of the
chairs.  LaCroix was nearby, wearing his usual black, his attention
mostly on the television--which was not on the program they had seen the
previous night, but another news channel.

"Knight," Nick said, finally answering the phone after a third ring.

"Is LaCroix there?"  Then, after a pause, "Nicholas, is he there?
Janette said--"

"Yes, he's...here," he said and LaCroix immediately pulled the phone
from him, then walked toward the elevator.

"Nick?  Who was that?  And what time is it?" Natalie wondered.

"It's a little after three-thirty," Nick answered, deliberately not
answering the first question.  He knew that it was Aristotle from the
moment he heard his name, but with LaCroix there, he didn't feel it was
his place to tell Natalie about Aristotle or what he generally did, even
if it wasn't too different from what Larry Merlin did.  In fact, the
address Natalie had been given, but hadn't used, was probably
Aristotle's, if he had to guess.

Picking up the remote, Nick increased the volume of the television so
she could hear it.

"--have confirmed that the Prime Minister was both aware of and approved
the actions taken three nights ago.  They offered no other comments from
his office when asked about the government's reaction to the existence
of vampires or when they were notified of--"

"That didn't take long," she whispered.

"No, it didn't.  Almost immediately the news channels jumped in with
their own comments, although I doubt they have any other information.
But at least now they have an actual answer to their previous
questions."

"But now they're speculating."

Nick nodded.  "Not on whether vampires exist--that's no longer a
question--but on the accuracy of the BPF's information, including
whether we can be essentially left alone as they suggest."

"BPF?  What's--"

"Banik-Pfenning Foundation.  The news has been abbreviating it."  He
smiled slightly.  "The good news is they are presently more
interested in them than us.  Or this channel is, anyway."

"And other channels?"

"They mentioned that there were several people hurt during
the...operation.  Total of four dead and six injured, and that's just
in Canada.  Two of the last are still touch-and-go."

"How bad?"

"They nearly died.  One was drained almost completely.  He'll be lucky
to remain fully mortal."

"A hunter?" she prodded further.

"He'll likely be compelled to hunt us, yes.  Not exactly the best thing
right now.  The other had complications from being attacked and fed
from...he had a heart attack."

"Has Schmidt--"

"No.  The only thing he's said about what's happened in other cities
was that first night after we returned from the Raven.  He's still
on the phone a lot, but he's primarily keeping us busy
working...rather than answering any questions."

"Well, I guess tonight you'll be the one answering any
questions.  Some of them, anyway."  When he seemed startled by that,
she added, "When the rest of the precinct finds out what you've been
doing the last few nights and why Schmidt's been there, taking up the
conference room."

Nick took in a deep breath and nodded.  "That'll be interesting."

"Schmidt and Cohen should handle that explanation, right?"

"They should, but I'm sure my so-called 'allergy' will come up again
at least once."

"But unless someone comes and checks you with the black light or
presses a crucifix against your skin, you should be fine."

He tensed at that.  It would be so simple for one of his
co-workers to do exactly that.  He wouldn't be able to get out of that
situation easily, not without possibly making others suspicious in
other ways.  And what would happen when he burned?  What would
Schmidt and Cohen--or more specifically her superiors--do about the
vampire playing detective?

"Nick?"  Once she got his attention, she patted the sofa next to
her.  "Come, sit down, and let's see what the other channels are
saying."

Taking in another deep breath, he did as suggested.  He changed the
channels, not really paying attention to what they were saying.

A good twenty minutes later, Nick's attention strayed completely from
the television when LaCroix returned and put the phone back.  Seeing his
sire's mixed emotions--pleased but almost disgusted--he asked, "What's
happened?"

"It was not their choice."

"What?"

"For that foundation to reveal us like this.  It was not their choice.
This group was given one month to expose us by any method they chose,
or we would be exposed by means of a rather damning video recording
held by an as-yet unidentified third party."

"How do you know this?" Nick again asked, stepping closer to his sire.
"Did--"

"The files.  From them, Merlin and that child managed to piece together
what has led to this debacle.  An unknown source conveniently provided
this information to that foundation...a medical research institute that
had been struggling financially.  Gave them everything.  The locations
where we gather, our abilities, the method of discovering resistors,
even a large quantity of vampire blood."

"What's on the recording?" Natalie asked, although she almost
immediately regretted it when LaCroix turned to her and she saw his
hatred.

"Supposedly two of us killing four mortals.  Drinking from two of them,
but merely murdering the others.  It is apparently quite graphic.  And
they killed out in the open.  Foolish."

"Then I guess it's better it comes out this way than with that video,
right?" she suggested.  "I mean it sounds to me like this foundation is
trying to help vampires.  They're trying to reveal you guys in a less
damning way, even if it is forced."

He looked away, clearly still quite upset about the new information.

"Natalie's right, LaCroix.  A video of two of us murdering in the open
would be...  We'd be exterminated without question or hesitation."

"But unfortunately this means we still don't know who is behind this."
Lowering his voice ever so slightly, he added, "And that damnable
recording still exists."

"But at least it means they're not doing this maliciously," Natalie
commented, causing him to again turn his attention to her.

"And what does that matter?  It is done.  And while the recording has
not been used to expose us, it still exists.  It could yet be used to
sway the mortals against us.  And if--"

Someone rang the buzzer, and all three stiffened.

Turning to his son, LaCroix asked, "Are you expecting anyone?"

"No," he said, crossing to the elevator.  On the security screen stood
William Schmidt.  "It's Schmidt," he hissed, low.  "LaCroix, get out of
sight.  Natalie--the glasses, move them."

She stood up and quickly spotted the glasses.  One was sitting empty on
the coffee table in front of her, and another on the table behind the
sofa with a few sips of blood left.  She took them to the kitchen and
put them in the sink, emptying and rinsing them out.  Turning, she
started back toward Nick, just in time for the elevator to open.

"Good afternoon, Detective.  I hope you don't mind me dropping by,"
Schmidt started as he slid past Nick, who had tried to remain in his
way.  "I tried calling, but the line was busy--and oh, good, Dr.
Lambert, I had also tried to call you.  I had hoped you might be here."

"Had--"

"Did you know there's a pool on you two?"

Nick nearly winced, and noticed Natalie mirror him; in addition, she
blushed slightly.

"Don't worry, I won't say anything...not that I've seen anything to
tell.  What I'm actually here for is to tell you both to come in early
for your next shift.  Be at the 96th precinct at five this afternoon,"
Schmidt said, then let his gaze wander around the room.  "This is a lot
nicer than I thought it would be from the outside."

"Why do we need to be there so early?" Nick asked, ignoring the second
comment.  He didn't much like having this man in his home.

"Because, first, we have a little announcement to make.  And after
that, we will all be checking the other officers--at all of the
precincts," Schmidt's mood dropped and he added, "Earlier today I
checked the city workers.  There was a vampire working in the auditor's
office.  That was certainly a surprise--being a day job like that.  He
vanished just after I tested him, though.  His co-workers were shocked,
to say the least.  But as of now, all government workers are required
to be tested."

"Your decision?" Nick asked.

"Ah, no; not a decision on our part, anyway.  A suggestion, yes, but
it's been nearly universally accepted."

Nick nodded and turned away, only to catch a glimpse of LaCroix
upstairs in his room, at which he turned back around.  Then he asked,
"So, five o'clock?"

"Yeah."

"Dr. Lambert?  I can't remember if I said, but you also need to be
there.  You'll be working directly with me."  Schmidt started back
toward the elevator.  "See you in a few," he said and pulled the door
open.

Nick closed his eyes tight as the elevator started back up.

"I take it that was this Schmidt who is working with you," LaCroix
remarked after he flew down to land behind his son.

"Yes," Natalie answered.  "And, Nick, I hate to say it, but it's
already after four, and I'd like to go home and change first.  We're
both still wearing our clothes from last night."

Nick nodded.  "I'll be right back," he said, turning and flying up to
the bedroom in a flash.

LaCroix crossed to the refrigerator, opened the door and cringed at the
food inside before grabbing a half-full bottle of blood.  Taking it and
closing the door, he walked over to the nervous mortal and held it
out.  "Make sure he drinks all of this."

Natalie took it, then closed her eyes when LaCroix moved even closer.

"It would be even better if it was...fresher, of course," he whispered
with a smile, eyeing her neck before he moved off.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

A week later, things were little different.  The testing of the police
department's employees had gone without issue, although Nick had
received several jabs about needing retesting from some of those who
knew about his allergy.  It was mostly teasing, however, and Nick felt
less tense when others came up to his desk--usually to ask questions
about if he'd heard anything new.

Which he hadn't.  He knew nothing official, beyond what those directly
involved knew.  Via the news and from Schmidt, they all knew that in
over half of the major cities that Schmidt's people had focused on,
vampires were vanishing.  This was especially true in the cities where
that first night had gone badly.  Clubs and other meeting places were
being boarded up if owned by vampires; many had simply left their lives
and moved.

From LaCroix, he knew more.  Aristotle and Merlin had been busy,
working endless hours to create new lives for those who had been
identified, but they could only do so many at a time without drawing
attention to their efforts.  Many of those who fled had taken refuge
with other vampires who hadn't yet been exposed.  Or they had
gravitated to places they felt would be safe, like the Raven.

LaCroix had been staying at the loft every day now.  Every night, Nick
woke with his sire's arms wrapped tightly around him more often than
not--something he suspected the elder man was doing out of concern.

Natalie hadn't had time to drop by recently, as she also had several
open cases and had been at the morgue at odd hours.

One of those open cases was Anderson and DuBois'.  Their victim, a
young man, had clearly been killed by a vampire.  He and Schanke also
had a case involving two young women who had also, upon close
inspection, been drained.  Natalie had been told to try and find
possible suspects for those cases, but both he and Natalie knew it was
unlikely that those who had done this had been in the Raven that
night.  Even Schmidt and Cohen knew that these victims were an
unfortunate side effect of exposing the existence of vampires to the
world.

Toronto had attracted many of those who had fled other cities,
partially because the Raven was considered safe, and also because
Janette was known to be protective, particularly of younger vampires.
But Toronto had already had a very large population of vampires, many
of whom hadn't been exposed at the Raven.  The abrupt increase in the
number of vampires in the area put a strain on the supply of blood, and
that strain was surely behind the drained mortals.

The Raven only had so much blood, and other sources of blood, such as
animal's blood from butchers, were undoubtedly being monitored--and if
not, any butcher would guess the request came from a vampire.  As a
result, those who otherwise would be willing to subsist on animal blood
were no longer able to obtain it without risking being revealed.  It
was, Nick was sure, a temporary problem.  So far there had been no
mention of limiting any shipments to the Raven, for example, but the
news reporters were incessantly bringing up questions about what
vampires lived on and where they got their supplies.  In the meantime,
while the Raven had blood, to get it, any vampires who wanted it badly
enough would have to go there and very possibly be identified.

So far, the Raven had escaped any major attacks.  The entrance doors
had been graffitied twice, but otherwise the club had been left alone.
When Nick and Schanke had gone to ask if Janette had decided whether to
be the liaison for vampires in Toronto, they both had seen how stressed
she was.

Janette had explained to him in a whisper that she had actually stayed
at LaCroix' apartment twice during the day, simply because the club was
now so full with those who had nowhere else to go and she needed some
space.  She disliked leaving, but her temper had been short with some
of the young ones, particularly after hearing the news of the three
drained mortals.

She had also, so far, refused to be the contact point--although by
being the owner of the Raven, even if she didn't accept, unless another
did, she would be assigned that role by default.  Nick and Schanke had
effectively become the other side of that line of communication, simply
because Janette wouldn't allow any other mortals inside the club.  Nick
knew it was because he himself was a vampire, meaning that, between him
and Janette, Schanke wouldn't be touched.  However, once the news that
Schanke knew what he was--and hadn't told anyone--had spread, the
vampires who congregated in the club no longer crowded around the
mortal detective as if he was prey.

"Knight, Schanke, my office," Cohen called.  All of those in earshot
turned their attention to the two detectives, having a good idea what
she'd be calling them in for this time.  They all knew that Nick and
Schanke were on what seemed like a permanent reassignment to deal with
the new situation.

Nick, however, was still lost in thought.  It didn't seem real to him.
Oblivious to his surroundings, he was startled when someone threw a
pencil at him.  He looked up to see Schanke glaring his way.  He then
vaguely recalled hearing his name called.  "What?"

"Cohen wants us."

Nick turned to find Cohen waiting in the door to her office,
impatient.  He got up and followed his partner into the office.

"Here.  You are to go to this address."  She handed him a small note.

Nick took it and noticed it was out of the 96th's jurisdiction.  Which,
he guessed, meant vampires were likely involved.

"Gentlemen, this case is high profile," Cohen quietly said.  "One of
the commissioners and the mayor will be there, along with at least half
a dozen reporters.  Just remember, no comment."

"What about the commissioner and mayor?  You know they'll want us to
throw them a bone.  What are we supposed to tell them?" Schanke asked.

"Just don't speculate in front of them.  They are supposed to get
information on all cases--including this one--directly from either me
or Schmidt."

"So essentially no comment there, too?" Schanke again asked, some of
his nervousness showing through.

Cohen nodded and sat down, clearly expecting them to leave.  After a
few seconds she nodded again, this time toward the door, and they did
so.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (011/111)

Arriving at the address, it didn't take long to find out why this case
was high profile.  The victim was Mary Edwards, a secretary in the
mayor's office.  She had been killed in the backyard of her home.  Her
husband had found her body upon arriving home from work.  The mayor
wasn't interested solely because it was another instance of Toronto's
citizens struck down by vampires, but also because she had worked in
his own office.

"Do you think this could have been done on purpose?  I mean, this isn't
exactly some alley..." Schanke whispered to Nick as they knelt over the
body of the young woman.

Even in death, the woman's face showed utter terror.  She also looked
like she had been in pain before she died.  There was something about
the expression on her face...

"Nick?"

"Yeah."

"'Yeah' to what?"

"Both.  Vampires rarely kill victims at their homes."

"And the mayor's secretary...probably no coincidence there, either."
Schanke stood, and once Nick had also done so, he asked, "So, what,
someone tried to get information out of her?  Maybe about what--"
Schanke abruptly stopped talking when his partner shook his head.

"Detectives Knight and Schanke, I believe?" said a tall man of average
build, his features grim as he held out his hand to Nick.  "Oh, sorry,"
he added, seeing the gloves on both of the detectives' hands.  "Do you
know if Dr. Lambert has found anything yet?"

Nick glanced to his partner.  He hadn't seen Natalie, but then they had
barely arrived and they hadn't come through the house, but the gate.

The man grimaced at the lack of response.  "I guess not.  She probably
couldn't say what she thought had happened.  Don't suppose you have any
ideas, do you?  Was it one of *them* that did this to Mary?  You know,
a...vampire?"

Nick glanced away, back toward the young woman's body.  "I think you
know we can't comment, least of all to you, because you are Mrs.
Edwards' employer and, frankly, we'll have to question you as well."

"Starting with when you last saw her," Schanke said, pulling out a
small notebook.

"About two hours ago, a little after eight, back at my office."

"And what was she doing at that time?"

"She was leaving for home."

"Isn't that a bit late?" Nick asked.

"Not the last couple of weeks it hasn't been.  You should know; I
believe you have also been working extra hours, yes?"

Neither detective answered that, then Schanke asked, "What was she
working on?  Anything important?"

"No."

"No?" Schanke said with disbelief.  "You haven't been talking about
what laws you might suggest regarding vampires?  Nothing like that,
maybe?  Or anything else she might have overheard, even if it doesn't
pertain directly to work?"

"Schanke?  I'm going to see if I can find Natalie," Nick said, and
getting a nod, he headed back toward the body and into the house
through the back door.  In the dining room he found her helping one of
the forensics techs dust for fingerprints.  "Nat?"

She glanced up, then told the tech she'd be back.

"Find anything in here?" he asked her.

"You mean besides the fact that the table and chairs in here have been
completely wiped down?  No prints at all.  Not even the owners'."

Nick closed his eyes and turned his head to the side.  Now there was no
doubt this was done on purpose.  The victim had been targeted.

"Nick, a vampire--"

"I know!" he snapped back under his breath.

"But I'm not sure they planned this."

He turned back toward her.  "Why would you say that?"

"I think she was bound to one of the chairs before she was killed.
With her scarf," she said, continuing in a whisper.  "I asked earlier,
and apparently the mayor had already had everyone in his office tested
for immunity.  She was a resistor."

"So when she wouldn't bend to his will, couldn't answer, or refused to
answer--"

Natalie shook her head.  "I don't think it was that.  I think they
killed her because they couldn't make her forget.  She was killed
probably only minutes or even seconds before her husband came home."
Glancing away, Natalie suddenly stiffened.  "Oh no.  Commissioner Vetter
is coming back.  He's testing everyone again."

"What?" Nick asked, turning.  Sure enough, Commissioner Vetter had one
of the battery powered black lights Schmidt had brought in his hand.

"Either hide or hope he's not a resistor," she whispered, then headed
back to the forensics tech.

"Detective Knight, I believe?" said the man as he approached.

Nick greeted the commissioner as politely as he could, then tried to
sneak off, but the mortal held up the black light.  "*You've already
tested me,*" he intoned before Vetter could suggest it, hoping that the
mortal was either susceptible or had tested enough others that he'd
think he had indeed done so.

Vetter swayed slightly, thinking...or forgetting.  "I've already
tested...  Yes, I probably have.  Sorry.  Horrible time for something
like this to happen, isn't it?"

Nick merely nodded.  However one looked at it, this was either bad
timing or just bad in general for a member of the mayor's office to be
murdered.  Nick turned away and walked over to Natalie, hoping the
Commissioner wouldn't follow.  And he didn't.

"So?"

"Definitely not a resistor," he whispered.  "He glazed over
immediately."

"And no one noticed, right?"

"Hopefully not."

"Nick--"

"It was only four words...a few seconds.  I don't think anyone noticed."

"Maybe Schmidt."

"I don't know if he's ever...  He knows how it works, but I doubt he's
seen it in practice.  He's not here, anyway."

"Yeah, and I can't help but wonder why," Natalie commented and glanced
toward both the front and back doors.  "He's been at all the other
scenes.  I figured he was outside."

"No, and it was Cohen who sent us here.  Schmidt wasn't at the precinct
earlier, either."

"You know, this could be bad for vampires.  Really bad."

"I know.  I'll see you later," Nick replied, then went back outside to
where Schanke was, waiting for him.  "You get anything interesting from
the mayor?"

"Absolutely zilch.  He either doesn't know anything, or is doing a
really, really good job leaving things out.  He said he'd fax Cohen
about what they've been doing, but me, a hard-working, city of Toronto
detective?  I get *zip*.  Nada."  Then, lowering his voice, Schanke
continued, "From what I can tell, he doesn't much like the idea of
vampires.  Or not all the extra work it's generating, anyway."

"Was that his opinion before or after his secretary turned up dead?"
Nick asked.

"I think before...but I don't know for sure.  I think he's a little
spooked about this.  I mean, he was her immediate employer, after
all...and, what, she probably didn't talk.  No sign of torture.  If I
were him, I'd be wondering if I were next or something."  Schanke
paused, paling a little at his own thoughts.  "I guess we'll have to
wait for the faxed files if we want to know what he really thinks.
Assuming we ever get to see them."  He massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Do you think you can finish up here?"

"You asking before you go poof?"

At that, Nick smiled.  He hadn't done any of his disappearing acts since
the night at the Raven.  "Maybe," he answered.  "I'm not--"

"Nick, Schanke?"

They both turned to see Natalie walking toward them, holding out her
cell phone.  "Here.  Cohen wants to talk to you."

Schanke took the phone and walked a few feet away.  After a minute or
two of confirmation, he turned the phone off and handed it back.  "Seems
we're not going right back to the precinct," he told his partner.

"The Raven?" Nick asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Bingo.  And we're supposed to ask.  *Again.*  Janette won't give an
answer, will she?"

Nick shook his head.  That was another thing that had been decided this
week.  Janette would refuse to be the voice of the vampires in Toronto.
She felt it would bring unwanted extra attention to the Raven--and it
would.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Six days later, Natalie arrived at the loft after Cohen had called her.
Nick wasn't answering his phone--or else it was off the hook--and
Schmidt wanted to talk to all of them again.  She had volunteered to
pick him up when he had called her, since she knew LaCroix was still
staying with him.

Over the past almost a week, about the only thing that had changed was
the growing animosity toward vampires in Toronto, which had spiked after
the death of the mayor's secretary.  That announcement hadn't even been
entirely planned, but initial rumours were that a vampire had done it,
and then the police had had no choice but to confirm it.  After all,
Mary Edwards' body had to be returned to her family, and they would have
confirmed those speculations.

So now Natalie was also being hounded by questions, along with Nick,
Schanke, Schmidt, and the other detectives directly involved.  A
reporter had even asked her what she personally thought about vampires.
So far she had managed to respond only with 'no comment', but it was
difficult to keep her tone even and not show frustration.

So far the Raven had still been spared any real violence, but she had a
feeling people were too scared to approach near enough to do more than
graffiti the outside during the day.  At night, from what Nick said,
most mortals stayed clear, and most vampires didn't use the main
entrance anyway.

But among the mess of a murder connected to the mayor, there had
actually been another death at the hands of a vampire.  Not that anyone
but Natalie recognised it for what it was.  The body had been discovered
the night after Mary Edwards was murdered.  The victim had been bitten
multiple times, as if three or four vampires had fed from him
simultaneously or one after the other.  She hadn't reported it to
Schmidt like she was supposed to.  The man had been dead nearly a week
and the body had been partly eaten by wild animals.  It hadn't been
pretty, but the additional wounds had made the earlier vampire bites
easier to dismiss.

Nick had been angry when she told him--both that it had happened and
that she had covered it up.  He didn't want her any more involved than
she already was.  If it were discovered that she had done this, he
worried she could lose her job.  And frankly, while very possible, she
had realised that could happen from the moment Cohen had introduced
Schmidt and she found out he knew about vampires.

Exiting the elevator at the loft, Natalie set her things down on the
kitchen table before continuing up to the bedroom.  Nick wasn't
downstairs yet, which meant he and LaCroix were likely still asleep.
She had stopped staying over because of LaCroix' continued insistence
that he and Nick sleep together in the bedroom, and because Nick had
given in to the elder man's wishes.  That, and the fact that Schmidt had
found her there that one day had made her decide that perhaps she
shouldn't for other reasons.  Despite that, she had come over to check
on Nick a couple of times in the morning, only to find them sleeping
entwined in the bed, LaCroix possessively holding his son.  That only
further solidified her decision on whether she would be welcome or not.

Today was no exception to the previous days she had come.  When she
entered the bedroom, she found Nick lying on his stomach, LaCroix half
on top of him, practically pinning him to the mattress.  In fact, it
looked very much as if LaCroix had done precisely that, his hands
wrapped around Nick's wrists, the comforter and sheets at some point
strewn away.

They both slept soundly as she approached, not hearing her footsteps.
Gently, she reached forward and brushed the back of her fingers down
Nick's exposed cheek.

He started awake, but was unable to move because of the other man
holding him.  It was only a couple of minutes after four-thirty, and he
buried his head in the sheets, closing his eyes.

"We're supposed to be at the precinct at five-thirty."

"Now what?" he half-moaned, his tiredness clear.  He again tried to
move, but his sire was deader than dead weight.  "Move, LaCroix.  I need
to get up."

"No," the elder man replied, now apparently awake, although he made no
other movement or comment, his eyes even remaining closed.

"Move, or you'll end up on the floor," Nick again said, this time more
sternly.  Trying to roll onto his side again, he found LaCroix abruptly
releasing him.

Natalie nearly laughed at their exchange.  Nick got up and glared at his
sire.  LaCroix simply smiled back while his son crossed to the bathroom
and shut the door behind him.  Any thought of laughing vanished upon
being left in Nick's room with LaCroix, who had immediately lost the
almost playful grin.

Looking away, Natalie left the room and headed downstairs.  Reaching the
end of the staircase, she jumped when LaCroix appeared in front of her,
standing oddly stoic, considering he was either wearing Nick's black
satin pyjamas or some of his own that were nearly identical.

"You have stopped staying here during the day."

She walked around him.  Why was he commenting on that?  As far as she
knew, he hated her.  He hated that she was mortal, that she was helping
Nick find a cure, probably even that she was Nick's friend.

"Why?" he asked and again moved into Natalie's path.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Because I am staying with Nicholas?"

"Because you and Nick seem close now and I didn't want to intrude," she
replied, again moving around him, this time going to the refrigerator.

"Nicholas did tell you about me, didn't he?"

"Yes," she answered, settling for a block of cheese; she really didn't
want to spend time preparing anything, but she also needed to eat
something.

"And did he describe us as close?"

She tried to ignore him, pulling a knife out and quickly cutting three
thick-ish slices of pepper-jack cheese off the block.

"Did he, Doctor?"

She turned with the knife still in her hand to find him again standing
right next to her.  Resisting the urge to stab him with the knife, she
turned back and went to the sink.  "Not really.  Yes and no."

"Do you really think things between us have changed so much in the last
few weeks?"

Natalie washed the knife off, dried it, and went to put it back in the
drawer, only for him to stop her from opening it.  "I honestly don't
know."  At the words, he allowed her to open the drawer and put the
knife back, then she returned the rest of the cheese to the
refrigerator.  "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

This time it was LaCroix who broke eye contact.

Natalie took her time to pick up her cheese slices before turning back
toward the vampire.  "Why, LaCroix?"

For a second he tilted his head slightly, as if listening to his son's
movements upstairs, then he answered, "I believe Nicholas is somewhat
upset that you have not stayed more often of late."

"And do you really care how he feels?"  At that, LaCroix stiffened.  She
had struck a nerve.  "Do you?  How many times have you done something to
intentionally hurt him?  You can't even count them, can you?  How do you
know he's upset because--"

"I know Nicholas.  He is mine!  I know he's--"  He suddenly ceased
talking, his glare turning briefly toward the upper level.  Then he
turned back to Natalie and the cheese in her hand.  "Are you going to
eat that?"

"Why, do you want some?" she said, holding it out.  She was faintly
surprised when he didn't cringe at the offer, but seemed to examine it,
instead.

After a few seconds, he again looked away.

"Have you ever even had cheese?"

"Of course I have.  Almost daily when I was mortal."

At that, Natalie repressed a flinch and automatically began to
apologise, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"It is fine.  Besides, even if it didn't make me ill now, I would opt
for something less...processed," he said, again glancing to the cheese,
a touch of distaste now showing on his features.  "And certainly not
made from cow's milk."

As LaCroix turned and headed back upstairs, Natalie slowly ate her
pepper-jack cheese and wondered what kind of cheese LaCroix had favoured
as a mortal.  And Nick, for that matter.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (012/111)

A few minutes after LaCroix had left Natalie to wait, Nick had come
down.  She had watched him silently prepare for work and her earlier
thought that he seemed tired hit her again.  Now she recognised that it
wasn't necessarily tiredness, but weariness and almost resignation.
Nick also hadn't drunk any blood before he left for work, which somewhat
worried her.  Not because she worried he'd lose control or anything like
that, but because she suspected the lack of proper feeding could be
contributing to or caused by his subdued mood.

Then there was a touch of frustration or anger, but at what, she
couldn't guess.  Had something happened that wasn't in the news or that
Schmidt hadn't told her?  After all, she didn't get to hear everything
he mentioned to Nick and the other detectives.  Or could it have been
something LaCroix had told him?  She hadn't been able to ask Nick much
because they hadn't been able to talk during their shifts, and then he
had been asleep whenever she had dropped by...and other than today, she
hadn't dared wake him for fear of waking LaCroix.

Soon after pulling away from the loft in her car, Natalie glanced over
at him, bundled in his coat with its collar turned up, hat, gloves, and
sunglasses, which he wore whenever he had to go into the precinct before
the sun was down.

She wondered whether or not to mention LaCroix' concern.  LaCroix had
halted their argument abruptly, likely when Nick shut the water off for
the shower.  If she had to guess, she'd say he didn't want Nick to
overhear what they were discussing.  Had Nick himself expressed the wish
that she would stay more often?  Or was LaCroix merely guessing at what
might improve his son's mood?

"How has LaCroix been as a house guest?" she eventually asked, not
wanting to start out with her real question.

"Annoying."

At the one-word answer and no sign of any further response, she asked,
"Why is he still staying, anyway?"

"His reason is that Janette is staying at his apartment."

"But she's lived with you two before, right?  So LaCroix shouldn't be--"

"They might be more like one another, but Janette has always been less
apt to share a room with LaCroix.  Especially since I came along."  He
turned away, only to slouch down a bit more.  "And she does sometimes
need her space from both of us."

Natalie continued toward the precinct, now not wanting to ask her
question.  Although she did note Nick's comment about it being LaCroix'
reason.  Did that mean he thought there was another reason?

"LaCroix talked to you while I was getting ready."

Natalie tensed slightly, coming out of her thoughts.  "A little," she
commented.  "He's a bit prejudiced against cow products, doesn't he?"

"He doesn't much like any animal blood; it's not only cow's blood."

"No, I mean--I jokingly offered him some of that cheese I was eating,
and he said something along the lines of even if he could eat it, he
wouldn't eat cheese made of cow's milk.  So it's not only animal blood
or cow's blood, apparently."

Nick's form shifted somewhat.

"So you don't know--"

"I don't think beef was regularly eaten in his time.  Cattle were for
labour rather than food.  But that's only a guess, from what I know
about his time.  LaCroix--  He doesn't talk about his mortal life.
Frankly, I'm surprised he said anything.  Especially to you."

"So was I," she replied, but she noticed Nick had shrunk even more into
the door, almost like he was trying to sleep.  He didn't reply, nor did
he seem to want to talk, so they continued to the 96th in silence.

Arriving and going inside, Nick took off his extra gear--the hat,
sunglasses, gloves and thick trenchcoat--and Natalie noticed that his
actions bothered some of the day shift detectives.  They didn't say
anything, but she wondered if some of Nick's co-workers treated him any
differently due to his 'allergy'.

"Hi, Schanke," Natalie said as Nick sat down at his desk.  "How come
we're not meeting in the conference room?"

"Schmidt's talking to someone in there.  I think it's another
Schmidt--someone else associated with BPF," Schanke answered, his voice
quieter than normal.  "Cohen caught Flanagan trying to listen from the
hall and practically dragged him off.  Or, well, told him off.  Hey, you
couldn't, you know--"

"Sorry, Skank.  Too much interference."

"Figured.  Anyway, Cohen has been keeping watch to make sure we stay out
here," Schanke mumbled, nodding toward the office.  "She's a hawk ready
to swoop down on anyone that goes for the hall...for *any* reason.  It'd
be a really bad time to need to use the john."

Nick glanced for a second toward Cohen's office, and sure enough, she
was standing near the door, watching them.

"There were a couple of new things on the news today, too," Schanke
continued.

"What kinds of things?" Nick asked, glancing between a bewildered
Natalie and Schanke.

"Like what?" Natalie asked almost simultaneously.

"Well," started Schanke, then lowered his voice again and continued, "In
Dallas one of the, I guess, hangouts for vampires was attacked during
the day...just a few hours ago.  Part of the building actually burned
down.  Can you believe that?  This was after--" he ceased talking when
he saw Schmidt enter from the back hall and nod in their direction.
"Guess it's time to go back."

Nick and Natalie turned their gazes and saw Schmidt trying to get
Flanagan and Briggs' attention.  Nick and Schanke stood up, and Schanke
led the way back to the conference room, with Nick following behind
Natalie.

Entering, they found everyone else already there and seated or sitting.
Natalie paused at the door when she saw a man she had never seen before,
or, more specifically, when she spotted the ragged scar high on his
neck.  She felt Nick touch her back, and she headed over to one of the
empty chairs and sat, with Nick taking a seat next to her.

Schmidt shut the door, then said, "This is Special Agent Evan Beranger,"
as he gestured to the scarred man with greying auburn hair.

"Special Agent?" Briggs commented.

"Prior to being recruited to this project, I worked at the Salt Lake
City FBI office."

"Yes, yes, and Agent Beranger was also the agent in charge in Salt Lake
during the testing."

"So how come you're not still there, then?" Flanagan asked, curious why
he had been reassigned.

"As I am sure you are aware, many vampires have fled as a result of the
testing.  Salt Lake City has nearly been abandoned, so I've been
reassigned to assist here in Toronto."  Then, noticing many of the eyes
on, not his face, but his neck, Beranger added, "And, yes, I was bitten
by one of them."

"Evan is here to try to help us initiate some peaceful communication on
the local level between them and the local government."

Schmidt pointed toward Cohen and started introducing those in the room
to Beranger.  Natalie was introduced last, after Nick, but Beranger's
gaze lingered on Nick uncomfortably long.  Nick looked back toward
Schmidt when Beranger's attention finally returned to him.  Beranger
appeared confused, almost as if he had sensed something or had been
distracted.

"And some of you may already know what happened a few hours ago in
Dallas," Schmidt then said, his attention on Flanagan and Briggs.
"There have been a large number of deaths linked to or blamed on
vampires in Dallas over the last nearly two and a half weeks, over a
dozen confirmed.  Today several individuals--many of whom were relatives
of those victims--led an attack on a club where the local vampires
congregated.  Part of the building was burned down and we believe at
least nine vampires perished in the flames, although that's only a
guess.  It could be much higher.  No one knows how many were in the
building at the time, nor if anyone somehow survived."

Nick closed his eyes.  It had to happen sometime.

"Local police and the FBI have been trying to calm the city, but most of
the population is now torn on whether it was a justifiable action."

"So because a few vampires were, what, scared, hungry, maybe even
provoked, they were attacked?" Flanagan asked.

"Unfortunately," Schmidt confirmed.  "We did suspect something like this
could happen at some point."

"And this happened during the day, right?" Schanke asked.  "When the sun
was up?"

"Correct; the arson happened around noon, local time.  So far it has
made it even more difficult to communicate, or otherwise interact with
the vampires in Dallas.  They refuse to speak with law enforcement,
beyond telling them to leave and giving the officers an ultimatum that,
come tonight, if they have not left as requested, they will be forced to
leave...using force if necessary.  It's also highly likely that they
might vanish...like in Salt Lake."

Schmidt took in a deep breath before continuing.  "Our priority is to
open a line of communication with the vampires in Toronto before
something like that happens here.  In cities with a smaller population,
where we've established a means of contact, things have gone slightly
smoother.  Detectives Knight and Schanke will be giving an ultimatum to
the Raven's owner, Janette DuCharme, tonight after we're done here.
Either she will have to speak for those here, or they'll have to choose
someone."

"And if they don't?" Anderson asked.  "Knight and Schanke haven't had
much luck with that, from what I've heard, and--"

"They will have to.  If not, we'll individually contact every vampire we
have addresses for and ask them.  We have got to establish some means of
communication.  Knight and Schanke will also be delivering some
information about how vampires are going to be integrated.  For one, all
those who have not already been tested at the Raven will be asked to
come in on their own.  Same if they move or change their name.  We don't
need histories, just the same information we obtained from those at the
club.  Name and a current photograph being the main information we want.
Previous name and city if they've recently moved."

"And if someone doesn't--" Briggs started.

"It hasn't been decided yet if there will be a punishment or any
penalty.  Although if said vampire has a job, it could be possible
grounds for dismissal if what they are ever comes out.  There is also
talk, at least here in North America and Europe, of special
identification--either a separate ID or special format for things like
driver's licenses and passports, even possibly work ID's, but that would
be up to individual employers."

Schmidt stopped again, picked up a folder from the table, and opened it.
He pulled out several sheets of paper and handed the stack to Natalie,
who was nearest.  "That contains details of the proposed changes here in
Canada."

Natalie took the top sheet, and found it to be two pages stapled
together.  She handed the rest to Nick.  Skimming the pages, she noticed
something about emergency services and saw that the medical examiner
would be called in to deal with any medical emergencies regarding
vampires, whether the victim or attacker was a vampire or mortal, and
whether those individuals were alive or dead.

"As you can see, the proposed changes cover more than merely having more
vampires come forward.  Take a copy and review it.  We'll meet again
tomorrow night at six."

As those present started to leave, Schmidt said, "Knight, Schanke?  Stay
here a moment for your instructions."

"Make a copy of that.  We'll meet you at the morgue," Nick whispered to
Natalie when she started for the door.

She almost turned and nodded, but noticed Beranger's gaze on Nick again
and silently left without acknowledging the comments.

As the door shut, now it was Evan Beranger who went to a file on the
table and retrieved a couple of sheets of paper, then handed them to
Schanke.  "Those are details on what must be done.  The things to stress
are that the vampires must pick a representative and that that
individual must write up a note or letter and have it delivered here
within a week.  Their representative must select an outside location and
a date to meet, and sign it.  The date can be no more than two weeks
from tonight.  The time to meet must be either 9 pm or 4 am, and their
choice should be indicated in the letter."

"Can we tell them about the possibility of others being required to
reveal themselves?" Schanke asked.

At that, Beranger tensed somewhat.

Schmidt, however, nodded.  "Yes.  We wish to be as open as possible with
them about what will happen.  Make it clear that those are only
proposals for now, and you don't have a date for it to take effect.  It
could be in a few days or months before anything happens regarding that,
but it could be soon."

Nick absently nodded at that.  Of course there was no date.  It seemed
like everything they heard was either as it happened or from the news.

Beranger continued, "Oh, and the note from the representative must also
include their name and phone number, or the phone number of someone
through whom they can be reached.  Everything should be self-explanatory
on those sheets.  Be sure to leave both copies with Janette."

Schanke handed the papers to Nick, who flipped through them.  There were
two sets of instructions, one each in English and French.  "So do you
want us to go now, or...?"

"Now is fine," Schmidt said.  "As long as you're up to it."

Nick watched the other man's eyes narrow, and replied, "Just wasn't sure
if we were supposed to wait until a specific time."

"Nope, just sometime tonight," Schmidt replied.

Nick nodded and nearly smiled.  "Come on, Schanke," he said and headed
back to his desk, putting on his trenchcoat and other day protection.
When his partner stopped to get his coat, he said, "We'll go to the
morgue first.  Natalie wanted me to drop by."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (013/111)

Natalie came back from making copies of what they had been given at the
precinct to find Nick and Schanke waiting for her, Nick sitting at her
desk.  "How long have you two been here?"

"Less than a minute," Schanke replied.  "Knight here said something
about--"

"Copies?" she asked, picking up her stapler and stapling the pages back
together.  Then, she handed them to Nick.

"Yeah."

"Or perhaps something about Beranger?" she asked when Nick grasped the
pages.

"Nope," said Schanke.

But when Nick froze, not pulling his hand back, she knew he had also
noticed something about the agent.  "You know, he was staring at--"

"I suspect he senses I'm different...he can tell I'm not quite human."

"You think he's like, ah..." she started, her voice dropping to a
whisper and finally cutting off before she finished.  Schanke, after
all, had no idea how many times vampires had come up in their previous
cases, either directly or indirectly.

"Possibly," he answered, knowing where she was going.  Beranger was very
likely a hunter.  "Maybe see if you can find out how severe his attack
was.  The wound appeared healed, but--"

"It wasn't a simple bite," she finished.  "Yeah, I saw that.  Looked
like his throat was nearly ripped open.  Healed quicker than--"

"Just find out what you can.  Ask Schmidt what he knows about it.  Say
it's...medical curiosity or something."

She nodded, and a second later, Nick stood up.  "Schanke, keys."

"What?" he started to protest.  "Sun's still up, and--"

"Janette hasn't been staying at the Raven during the day, and you don't
know where we're going.  Even I don't know the exact address.
So...keys."

As Schanke handed his partner his keys and they turned to leave, Natalie
called, "Nick, can I come by in the morning?"

"You can always--"

"But if you're asleep--"

"Then wake me up."  He saw her concerned features and flashed a
half-smile.  "You can always do that.  I really wouldn't mind."

Soon they left, Nick putting on his hat, gloves and sunglasses that he
had taken off earlier.  They left the morgue, Nick more distracted by
Schanke's uncertainty at him driving than the sunlight shining in on
him.  He felt it burn his unprotected left cheek and shifted his
position.

It took fifteen minutes to find LaCroix' apartment.  It hadn't been
overly difficult, but it was far different driving during the day and
having to follow the streets than flying at night in a more direct
route.

When his partner turned around for what had to be the third time,
Schanke asked, "You sure you know where you're going?"

"I think so."

"You *think* so?  Do you even know where we are now?"

"Not really," Nick admitted, and pulled into an empty parking lot and
parked.

"Not really?  How the hell do you not know where you are?  You're the
one driving!"

Nick glanced over at Schanke, but didn't answer the question.

"So where are we, then?"

"LaCroix' apartment.  Janette has been staying here during the day
lately."

"So does that mean he's--"

"He's been staying with me," Nick quickly, but firmly, replied.

Schanke almost asked why, then remembered that LaCroix was essentially
Nick's father, so he supposed it wasn't overly odd.  After all, they had
to have lived together at some point, right?  But then why couldn't
LaCroix stay at his own place?

Getting out of Schanke's car, Nick hurried over to the apartment
building.  To enter, one needed a key, and he pulled his keys out of his
pocket and quickly found the right one.  LaCroix had given him a copy
after Janette began staying there nearly every night, so it was the
newest and most unfamiliar key.  Inside it was quiet, and he led his
partner over to the elevator.  Taking it up to the fourth floor, he took
off his gloves and sunglasses, then started in one direction, only to
have to turn around.

"You sure you know where you're going?" Schanke said, following his
apparently lost partner.  "Or is the sun--"

"It's not the sun...and now I do," he said, quickly finding the correct
door and knocking.  After a few seconds, he whispered, "Janette, it's
me."

A few more seconds passed and the door opened to reveal Janette, dressed
in a rather plain and simple black dress, likely preparing to leave for
the Raven.  It was clear she was none too pleased by their presence,
evidenced by the golden flecks dancing around her pupils as she glared
at Schanke.  "What are you--" she started, then stopped herself after
spying the burns on her brother's face.  "Oh, Nicolas..."

As she reached toward his face, Nick pulled back, then pushed past her
and into the apartment.

Once Schanke entered and pulled the door shut, Janette hissed, "You
should not have brought him here!"

Nick pulled out the papers Beranger had given to them and handed them to
her.  "We have one week to pick a representative."  Then, taking off his
hat, he watched Schanke flinch.

"You okay?" Schanke asked, trying to get a better look at the burns on
his partner.

"Fine," he replied, turning and heading into the small kitchen off to
one side of the door, where he pulled open the refrigerator.  He took
out a bottle, forced the cork out, and took a long drink straight from
the bottle.

As his partner was occupied, Schanke continued their explanation.
"There are also some sort of laws or guidelines, or--  I don't know what
they are, exactly, but they want more of you guys to out yourselves."

"Out ourselves?"

"It's only a proposal so far, but they want--might even require--you
guys to identify yourselves.  It's just a head's up for now, but I think
we all think they'll make some sort of formal announcement soon."  When
Janette merely tensed, he turned toward his partner, who was taking
another swig of the blood, then he turned away and walked slightly
further into the apartment.

There were few decorations and little furniture.  He saw a black leather
sofa similar to Nick's, then two black, wooden end tables with glass
tops and a matching coffee table.  He also noticed a laptop computer on
a desk in the nearest corner.  His eyes eventually settled on a rather
large and dark painting above the sofa and, after a second, his eyes
widened at the scene subtly portrayed.  Subtle, until you looked at it
and realised there were two naked figures--

"Schanke," Nick said, pulling on his partner's arm after seeing the
other man's jaw slack slightly.

"Knight, that's practically pornogr--"

"Yes, it is.  And something never to mention to Myra," he whispered.

"But you're not surprised by it?  I mean, you don't have--" Schanke
turned, gestured to the painting, "--that kind of stuff on *your*
walls."

"LaCroix' choice of art varies," he said, not elaborating.  Frankly, the
painting was quite tasteful compared to some of the paintings he knew
his sire owned.  "And, Janette--Schanke's right.  They did hint that if
an undocumented vampire is discovered after a certain point in time,
there could be consequences."

"What kind of consequences?" Janette asked.

"Like being fired from their job, if they have one," Schanke said.

Nick averted his eyes.

"Nick--" Janette started, stepping closer to him, only for him to pull
away again.

"And he thinks this new guy might know what he is."

"What?" she hissed, turning her attention to the mortal detective.

"There's this new--he apparently is or was an FBI agent--and he's been
reassigned to help here in Toronto."
 
"He was bitten by one of us in Salt Lake City the night we made those
lists," Nick explained.

"And apparently you guys all packed up and left town there, so we're not
sure what good they think he can do here..." Schanke added.

"I'm not sure he's realised what I am yet, but he definitely senses
something amiss."  He pulled out the copy of the other information
Natalie had made copies of and handed it to Janette.  "That's what they
gave us on the rest.  Nothing is final, but it's supposedly their
proposed plans on how to integrate us.  We haven't had time to read it
yet."

"Has this new detective--has he said anything to you, or--"

"No, not yet.  Like I said, I'm not sure he's realised what I am yet,
but once he finds out about my sun issue, I'm sure he'll connect the
dots.  I don't know what he'll do then."

Nick took another long drink of the blood even though he knew the burns
had healed by now.  He hadn't drunk anything before going in to work, or
the previous morning when he had come home.  He really needed the extra
nutrition, even if he didn't want it.

"And then there'll be Schmidt and Cohen's reaction when they find out,"
Schanke added, trying to ignore his partner drinking from the bottle of
blood.

Nick turned away and shut his eyes.  "Just--if they find out, when they
find out, I'll make it clear I'm the one to blame.  Don't worry about--"

"I'm not worried about me," Schanke replied, cutting his partner off.

Nodding slightly, Nick turned back to Janette.  "Back to the reason
we're here...you know it really would look better if we didn't wait
until the last minute to name our choice."

"You *are* aware that no one wants to represent us, Nicolas?"

"I know."

"I will not do it, and most of the others also either will not, or are
too young to be trusted with--"

"If we don't choose, they will start going through every name on those
lists and ask until someone volunteers.  Make sure LaCroix knows that."
Nick tilted the near empty bottle in his hands, then held it out toward
Janette.

She didn't take it, instead turning to face away from Nick.

"Janette..."

She gave a loud sigh of resignation and exasperation, but agreed, "I
will tell him."

"And you should know that something happened in Dallas a few hours ago,"
he said, then upended the bottle and drank what little remained.  This
time the blood had a bitter taste to it, he suspected from the thought
of what had happened.

"It was on the news," Schanke told her.  "Probably still is.  And it's
not good."

"We should get back," Nick abruptly said and started back to the kitchen
to get rid of the now empty bottle.

"Stay, Nicolas," she urged, spinning back around to face and approach
her brother.  When he turned around, she again reached her hand up, and
this time he let her place her palm against the side of his face.  "At
least until dark."

"No."  He closed his eyes at the touch and, after a moment, pulled her
hand down.  "I'll be fine.  Schanke will drive me back," he added with
an ever-so-short flash of a smile.  "Besides, I think it would be better
for Beranger to see me make it back to the precinct before sunset."

After Nick went to the door, pulled it open, and stepped into the
hallway, Schanke moved to follow, only to feel a hand on his upper arm
pulling him back.

"Keep him safe if you can, Detective," the vampiress whispered right
into the mortal's ear.

Then Schanke felt Janette release him and even give him a slight but
rather powerful push toward the door.  In another second he was in the
hall, the door shut behind him, with Nick shoving the keys back into his
hand.  They continued back to the car, and once they were back on the
street, he asked, "If it becomes a requirement to out yourselves, do you
think you will?  Or will you risk it anyway?"

Nick didn't immediately answer.  Eventually, after they were in the car
and on the way back to the precinct, he answered, "Honestly, I haven't
decided yet."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (014/111)

Close to the end of Natalie's shift, Schanke had called her from home
after dropping his partner off at his loft.  He had remembered her
asking Nick earlier if she could come over in the morning, and Schanke
wanted her to make sure he was doing all right.

According to Schanke, Nick had been unusually quiet that night after
returning to the precinct.  Natalie had noticed him sitting, focused on
some reports on his desk when she had arrived with some autopsy
results--and also attempted to talk to Schmidt.  Nick, however, hadn't
seen her.  According to Schanke, he had become permanently zoned out.

She had gone home first to get a few changes of clothes and other items
so she wouldn't have to go back except to feed Sydney, and she could do
that on her lunch break, if needed.  Although if Nick didn't want her to
stay over, the extra trip would have been a waste.

It was still over an hour before sunrise when she rode up in the
elevator.  Pulling the door open, Natalie was slightly surprised to see
Janette standing between Nick and LaCroix.  Nick had turned away from
all of them, and LaCroix looked frustrated, although he, too, appeared
to have deliberately turned away upon her arrival.

Janette turned toward the mortal, her eyes darting briefly to the bag in
Natalie's hand.  A smile appeared on her lips.  "Good.  You can stay and
be their mediator.  I have had quite enough of this."

Before Natalie could reply, Janette flew up to the skylight and exited
through an empty pane, closing it behind her.  It was somewhat shocking
seeing her leave like that; Nick rarely did such a thing right in front
of her, or even LaCroix...he usually simply vanished.  Letting her
attention then fall on the two men, she slowly approached, putting her
bag down near the recliner.

"Good morning, Doctor," LaCroix said, turning to face her, his features
no more pleased than when she had entered.

"What were you two arguing about?"

"It wasn't an argument."

"Yes it was, LaCroix!" Nick fumed, finally turning, then they simply
glared at one another.

"Well...since I have a feeling you're not going to say what you weren't
arguing about...  I did talk to Schmidt tonight."
 
"About Beranger?" Nick asked, most of his anger melting away.

She nodded.  "I initially asked Schmidt, but then Beranger came in and
Schmidt told him what I was asking about.  He was perfectly happy to
explain it," she said, wincing slightly.  "He said that during that
first night, one of the female vampires was unusually nervous, and when
he approached, backing her into a corner, the young woman attacked and
bit him.  It apparently took three vampires to pull her away, and by
then he had lost a lot of blood.  His heart stopped on the way to the
hospital and he had been clinically dead for about four minutes.  They
were able to miraculously revive him in the emergency room.  After that,
he spent five days in the hospital, about a week at home, and now he's
here, virtually like new, except for the scar.  And a wound that severe
shouldn't have healed that fast, Nick.  Not to the degree it has.  It
looks months old, not weeks."

"Did he ask you any questions about me?"

"Ah, no, he didn't," she answered, taken a bit off-guard by the
question, then explained, "But I don't think he knows yet that we're
anything more than co-workers who work together when necessary, that we
talk more than to share what I discovered from my exams and other
tests."

"And how did he describe vampires?"

"He wasn't as polite about you guys as Schmidt was, but with that kind
of story, it's hard to make it sound better.  At least I didn't get the
impression he blames vampires in general for what happened to him.  He
knows she was scared and reacted on instinct."  Natalie paused, but
shook her head, "But he has definitely been paying Nick a lot of
attention.  More than anyone else--and more than Schmidt has, for that
matter."

"So, LaCroix?"

LaCroix' anger became as intense as his son's had been, and he turned
away once again.  "With those...unfortunate circumstances, yes, he is
likely now a hunter.  Especially if he can indeed sense you, as it
appears."

"So, do you want us to keep an eye on him?" Natalie asked.

"Obviously."

"And I found out something else, too," she started.  "Schmidt was an
employee of the original company, the Banik-Pfenning Foundation.  He was
part of those initially assigned to organise all of this."

"And?  I already know this," LaCroix scoffed.  "And more."

"Well, I certainly didn't," Nick said, sending a glare in his sire's
direction before turning back to Natalie.  "LaCroix hasn't been filling
me in on everything--obviously," he complained, echoing his sire's
earlier caustic comment.

"You have been working," the elder vampire countered.

"And if you had told me all of this, Natalie wouldn't have needed to ask
and possibly draw attention to herself!"

"She is mortal.  It does not matter if she draws such attention."

Natalie closed her eyes.  No wonder Janette had left.  Reopening her
eyes, she immediately noticed the lack of blood in the room, in any
form--no bottle and no glasses, empty or otherwise.  Walking between
them, she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle.  Letting the
door slam shut, she saw Nick flinch out of the corner of her eye when
she went and got two wine glasses, set them on the table, then filled
both glasses full.  Setting the bottle behind the glasses, she stepped
back and said, "Drink it."

LaCroix narrowed his eyes at the mortal, but after a few seconds he
walked over to the table and picked up one of the glasses.  He took a
sip, turned, and took several steps away.

"You too, Nick."

"I'm not--"

"Drink it," she repeated, her tone becoming slightly harsh.  "Maybe it
will at least get you two to stop bickering."

Nick prepared to protest, but did as ordered and took the second glass.
Unlike LaCroix, however, he downed half the glass right there, then
refilled it.  After that, instead of returning to his previous location,
he headed to the sofa and sat down.

Natalie joined him after about a minute, sitting next to him, but
keeping some space between them since he still seemed overly tense.
"Nick?"

"I'm fine."

Natalie nearly said something, but LaCroix distracted her.  Rather than
approaching, he went upstairs.  Once he disappeared, her attention
returned to Nick.  "Schanke said you were kind of zoned out all shift."

He closed his eyes and took in a breath.

"If you're planning on--"

"I don't know what I'll do.  I'll decide...whatever...after they
establish a timeline."

"How long have you been home?"

"About two hours.  LaCroix got here an hour ago."

"Did he see the proposed--"

"Of course.  And the rest as well.  That's part of the reason he's so
angry."  He took another large drink from his glass, then sat back.  "I
don't know who is going to be our representative.  Janette won't do it.
And I can't unless I reveal myself.   Everyone else I can think of
either wouldn't or shouldn't for various reasons."  Closing his eyes, he
added, "I told LaCroix I'd reveal myself and be the representative if
necessary."

"You could."

"I could, but--"

"Is that why you were arguing?"

"I think it's what started it.  He doesn't want me involved any more
than I already am."

"And you--"

"I know I'll be found out somehow.  Whether through Beranger, willingly,
by accident, or through observation.  It will happen at some point.
It's only a matter of time."  He drank more from his glass.  "And, as I
told LaCroix, I might as well be the representative, right?  I mean if
it comes down to it."  Cringing slightly, he leaned forward, set his
one-third full glass on the coffee table, then leaned back again.

"But you don't really want to be the representative, do you?"

"It's not that; it's that I don't want to be revealed."  He closed his
eyes and sighed.  "But some of those at the precinct already suspect the
truth about what I am."

"Has Cohen said anything to you?"

"No, but I don't know if she would."  Abruptly he sat up, took the glass
off the table, and drank the rest of the blood.  Then he stood and
headed back to the kitchen and refilled his glass.  "Or if she even can
at this point," he added and took a sip from his glass.  "I think that
blood test kind of finalised my status.  At least unless I say something
or either change or use my abilities in front of witnesses, and even
then..."

She stood and approached.  "That's not likely, though, is it?"

"I use what I am all the time, Natalie!  I never--"  He shook his head
and went over to the sink, nearly spilling some of the blood from his
glass when he abruptly came to a stop.  Noticing what he had done, then
forcing himself to be more calm, he continued, "I've never managed *not*
to use what I am.  I've tried, but I've always failed.  You know that.
I can never shake the feeling that being a vampire actually makes me a
better cop.  Eventually, though, I will slip up.  Probably soon,
especially with how I feel and everything that's happened."  He drank
his nearly full glass at once, then set the empty glass in the sink.

"Schanke already knows, and--"

"Which will help," Nick agreed, then put his hands on the counter and
leaned forward, closing his eyes.  "But now everyone in the precinct
knows what signs to look for, and I'm sure some of them are watching me.
And if I turn myself in..."

When he ceased talking, Natalie stopped inching nearer.  Watching him,
she noticed he almost appeared to be shivering.  At that, she resumed
her approach, concerned.  Coming up to his right side along the counter,
she first gently touched his arm with one hand, then put her other hand
on his upper back.  "Nick?"

"Before we left, Schmidt said that tonight would be--they're going to
announce on the news the procedure for identifying oneself as a
vampire."

"I thought they hadn't decided if there was any punishment for not--"

"They haven't, not officially, and they didn't mention that part, but I
think they are a lot further into deciding what to do with us than
they're telling us."  Instinctively lowering his voice, he turned to
face Natalie.  "I overheard Schmidt talking to Beranger, and the
governments were notified of what was coming over a week before we found
out about it.  They've had nearly a month.  And we already know they--as
in Schmidt's people--don't have any control about what individual
governments do in response.  They're merely mediators, facilitators.
That's another reason we were arguing; LaCroix already knew, and he had
kept that from me."

"And more, apparently," Natalie said, remembering the other man's quip.

"Yes.  The foundation Schmidt worked for was low on funds.  Whoever
picked them took advantage of that.  They're funding this, essentially
keeping them in business."  Nick moved away from the counter, picked up
the partially filled bottle of blood, and took it back to the
refrigerator.  "I'm going to head to bed.  I doubt I'll manage to sleep
much today."

Natalie turned and nearly called after him, but he had flown up to the
balcony and was already entering his room.  Since he hadn't said
anything about her staying--or not--after a couple of minutes, she
grabbed her bag and went to the bathroom on the lower level to change.
She had brought a plain t-shirt and light-weight pants so as not to end
up sleeping in her work clothes yet again.

She went ahead and left the bag there.  Unlike Nick, she couldn't simply
go to bed.  Her body would protest if she didn't eat something, so she
made herself a simple sandwich.

As she was finishing her meal, LaCroix came slowly down the stairs.  His
glass from before was empty, and after giving her a glance, he silently
went to the refrigerator and refilled it.  Then, annoyingly, he had gone
to the sofa, sat down, and turned the television on.  She had actually
thought she might head to bed like Nick had done.

"You don't mind, do you?" LaCroix asked coolly as the mortal approached
him.

By his near smile and almost teasing tone, she knew that he was fully
aware that she did mind.  He was doing this on purpose.  "Is Nick
asleep?"

"No," LaCroix simply answered and turned toward the screen.

Natalie closed her eyes at the simple answer, but at least he had
confirmed that Nick was apparently still awake.  Changing her target to
the stairs, she headed up to the bedroom.

Entering the room, she found Nick with his eyes closed.  He seemed quite
asleep...until he abruptly shifted and turned toward her.

"Is something wrong?  Has LaCroix--"

"No.  He's just sitting where I was planning on sleeping."

"You don't have to stay, Nat."

"I would like to, unless you don't want me to."

Nick slowly sat up and shook his head.  "No.  I would very much like for
you to stay."  After his attention drifted, he suddenly pulled the
comforter back.  "Here, sleep up here with me.  He's been staying up
fairly late."

Initially she hesitated, then got into the bed.  She was a little
surprised when he pulled her closer and drew the comforter back up.
Even more so when he eventually settled on holding her in front of him
with them both lying on their sides, and she felt his cheek rest against
her ear.  It was strange feeling his bare arms against hers.  "Are you
okay with this?" she asked, twisting slightly in Nick's grip.  "I
thought--"

"It'll be fine.  I haven't been remotely hungry lately."

"Yeah, but--"

"Just don't push me so much this time."

Natalie turned her head and caught a glimpse of his smile before he
pulled her tighter.  "Nick, about that..."

"It was fine.  Besides, if you hadn't pushed me past my control that
night, I would have been at the precinct and tested properly, like
everyone else."  After a pause, his mood changed and he whispered,
"Although, frankly, that might have made things easier.  I don't
know...it doesn't matter right now.  Let's try and get some sleep while
we can."

Again she felt him rest his face against hers and, for a few minutes,
she felt his breath against her jaw.  Then he relaxed and the periodic
breeze ceased as he fell into death-like sleep.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (015/111)

The next thing Natalie remembered was waking when Nick's alarm went
off...only to find LaCroix lying on the bed in front of her, above the
covers, and flat on his back.  She was slightly startled, only to find
herself still held tight by Nick, his grip tightening when she tried to
sit up.  Twisting to see his face, she found him wide awake.  "What time
is it?"

"About twenty minutes after the first time it went off," he replied with
a smile.

She groaned and pushed at Nick slightly.  She had wanted to take a
shower, but suspected it would now be too late.  At least they had both
gotten plenty of sleep that day.  However, with LaCroix lying in front
of her, either ignoring them or still asleep, and Nick behind her, she
was trapped.  "Come on, Nick, move.  If your alarm went off twenty
minutes ago, I'm sure we both need to start getting ready for work."

At that, Nick relaxed his hold and rolled toward the side of the bed,
easily sliding out from beneath the covers and standing.

Natalie followed, although she felt much less graceful.  Glancing at the
clock as she stood, she saw she was right: It was now 4:52 pm, and she
and Nick were supposed to be at the precinct in a little over an hour.
She felt pleased that Nick's mood had improved over that morning.  He
was even still slightly smiling.

Completely avoiding looking at LaCroix, and still barely awake, Natalie
left Nick's room and headed to the partial bathroom on the lower level.
After changing and otherwise getting ready for work, she went to the
kitchen and made something to eat--eggs and toast.

She was nearly done with her meal by the time Nick came down.  Instantly
she noticed his mood had again fallen.  He had also taken longer than
she expected, which made her wonder if he and LaCroix had had another
mini argument.  In fact, he had taken so long to get ready that it was
nearly time to leave.

When Nick didn't get anything for his own breakfast, she went to
retrieve a bottle and pour him a glass, which she took over to where he
sat on the sofa.  "Here," she said, holding the glass out.

"Nat, I don't--"

"You might not feel like drinking it, but you probably need it."

Reluctantly he took the glass, quickly drank it as if he wanted to get
it over with, then handed it back.  When Natalie refilled the glass and
gave it back to him, he groaned but again took it.

Natalie put the bottle back, then, turning, her eyes caught on LaCroix
standing in the doorway to Nick's room.  She couldn't tell whether he
was pleased, concerned, or somehow angry.  Again trying to ignore him,
she waited while Nick drank his second glass, this time more slowly.
Then, when he grabbed his protective clothing, she picked up her purse
and they headed out.

They didn't say another word until they were halfway to the precinct and
Nick abruptly said, "I'm sorry about that."

"Sorry about what?"

"LaCroix.  I had hoped he'd stay downstairs."

"It's...okay.  Although he wasn't quite who I expected to see when I
woke up."

"I told him not to do that again, but--"

"But LaCroix does whatever LaCroix wants.  Yeah, I've noticed that."
She nodded and took in a slow, deep breath.  "Really, it's fine.  As
long as he keeps his clothes on, it is perfectly fine.  I think.
Just--maybe I can sleep closer to the edge of the bed next time?"

Nick didn't reply immediately, and in fact waited a couple of minutes
before asking, "If he's bothering you, I can try to talk to him again.
I don't want you to feel unwelcome or uncomfortable whenever you come
over.  I don't want him to make you leave--"

"I won't leave unless you want me to," she said, her tone a bit harsher
than intended.  Then, more slowly and softly she added, "Or maybe if
LaCroix did something--but I don't think he will.  I'm fine staying at
your place, but I would like to know for sure that you want me to.  You
haven't really said, not whether I can on a daily basis."

Again, he didn't reply.

"Nick?"

"Yes, I want you to stay," he replied, his voice nearly cracking.
"But--"

"If you want me to stay, then that's that.  I just wanted to make sure
it would still be okay."

"Thanks, Nat."

She half-smiled even though she knew he couldn't see.  His tone had the
nearly playful hint in it that she liked to hear...and hadn't heard much
the last two and a half weeks.

She continued their drive to the precinct, and once there, she and Nick
entered.  She gathered his hat, coat, and gloves and added them to her
own as they entered, and took them to his desk.  Schanke wasn't there.
"Guess we should go on back?" she suggested, and after getting a nod,
she led the way to the conference room.

Entering, Nick felt Beranger's eyes on him from the moment he entered
until he sat down.

"Good, good, now everyone is here," Schmidt exclaimed, clapping his
hands together with pleasure.  "Don't worry, you're not late.  I figured
we would go ahead and get started, since everyone is here."  Schmidt's
mood abruptly became serious, any hint of a smile vanishing, and he
stated, "The time-frame for vampires to start identifying themselves
begins tonight."

All of those in the room shifted uncomfortably at that, Schmidt and
Beranger included.

"The late night news tonight will include details on how to officially
identify oneself as a vampire.  It won't be much different than at the
Raven.  You'll do the test with the ultraviolet light, then take their
present name and the measurements.  The only difference is that now we
will also be asking for employer information and their home address.
That information is not absolutely required at this time, but we
recommend that they provide it.  If their employer is mortal, for now,
either Beranger or I will make the notification...and then only if it
becomes required.  Oh, and you'll have access to a camera now, rather
than having to hunt down photos or use the video from the Raven for
identification."

"Why do we have to test them?" Anderson asked.

"To verify that he or she is a genuine vampire, and turn normal humans
away if necessary.  It's the simplest and least invasive method to
determine whether one truly is a vampire or not."  Beranger paused, then
looked at Nick.  "Right, Detective Knight?"

He tensed when the other detectives either glanced or stared at him.

"What does he mean?" Flanagan asked.

Schmidt sighed.  "Due to Knight's allergy, my superiors asked to have a
more conclusive test performed--a blood test.  And yes, he passed."  He
looked back at Beranger, ready for him to continue.

"If someone tests positive, you should ask them to tell others that it
is not, at the moment, compulsory to identify oneself, but it likely
will be within a couple of weeks, so they should try to convince them to
come in, if they can," Beranger said, his gaze again settling on Nick,
at which he nearly smiled, before his attention shifted, in general, to
the room's occupants.

"Exactly," Schmidt said, "Although that announcement will also be part
of the news broadcast.  For now, the only designated location to come in
will be here at the 96th."  Schmidt pulled out forms from a folder and
handed one to DuBois and one to Nick.  "Those are the forms you'll use."

Seeing the extra line for employer name, DuBois asked, "So why exactly
is it necessary to notify their employer?"

"It's--" Schmidt started, then paused.  "As I said, it might not be
required--and it's voluntary for now--but if it is, it's obviously to
let employers know they have a vampire in their workplace, although
supposedly what the employer does with that information is up to them.
They can't fire them simply because of being a vampire.  But an employer
can choose to either out that vampire to their other employees or not.
And with any high profile jobs, such as governmental positions, the
employer will be allowed to interview the individual, and his or her
answers could determine if they will be asked to leave the position.
Since most government employees have already been tested, yourselves
included, this pertains more to any new hires."

Despite that, Nick again tensed, even though he had never fully relaxed
from before.  If he identified himself as a vampire, then he'd certainly
be required to submit to such an interview.

"You said the time-frame starts tonight...when does it end?" Briggs
asked.

"We don't know yet," Schmidt sighed.  "I'm hoping we'll get some sort of
advanced warning; tonight was supposed to be for questions regarding
what we gave you last night, not this."

"Any idea yet what the penalty is for not coming forward?" Natalie
asked.  "Even if it's not official.  I have a feeling that at least the
first ones who come in are going to ask."

"Here in Canada, if one is later discovered to be a vampire, they will,
as a minimum, be interviewed--by whom, I haven't heard yet.  There is
also a possibility they could be prohibited from either living in the
city, or from working in either that city or even in Canada as a whole
for a certain amount of time.  What, exactly, happens will probably
vary, depending on the locale."

"What about other countries?" Flanagan questioned.

"It will be similar, as far as we know," Schmidt started.  Then, after a
pause, he explained, "The United States and countries in the European
Union are already fingerprinting all of those who come forward.  And
there are a few countries that are essentially making it illegal for a
vampire to work there.  This is such a surprise for the whole world that
I'm not surprised that a lot of what is being proposed is changing on an
almost daily basis.  For the most part, the consensus seems to be that
any decision will depend on the individual vampire, if they work, where
they work and who for, more than, say, whether they live in Toronto,
London, or Los Angeles.  Any further questions about this?"

"When are they gonna announce all of this?" Schanke asked.

"At ten and eleven tonight," Schmidt answered.  "Now, any questions on
what I gave you last night?"

"Er, yeah, actually," Natalie said.  "I believe there was something
about the local or regional medical examiner or coroner being--"

"Yes, yes, a sort of medical liaison, or at least the first choice, and
I can tell you now that you will be this individual here in Toronto.
Such a situation hasn't come up yet beyond Mr. Morrell, but you, and
others in your profession, will be called to any medical situations
involving vampires, regardless of whether a vampire is the victim or
possible perpetrator."

"Which means I'll be called to the hospital, right?"

"Or a crime scene, accident, here, or elsewhere, for that matter.
Toronto hasn't yet had many issues in this area, but other cities have.
If you're called anywhere other than here, one of the detectives or
myself will also be there."

"Which, by the way, Dr. Lambert," Beranger interrupted, "we need to
speak with you later in more depth on this subject.  You can ask any
other questions you have regarding that addition to your duties then."

"Any other questions?" Schmidt again asked.

"If the 96th is where they're supposed to come, what is the protocol for
that?" DuBois asked.

At this, Cohen sat up a bit straighter and answered, "They will come to
the front desk and ask for either you or Knight.  That's why I gave you
two those forms.  Whichever one of you and your partner is free at the
time will then escort them back to one of the interview rooms.  Try not
to draw attention, if you can help it."

"Even though it'll be obvious," Briggs commented, nearly laughing.

Schmidt grimaced.  "At least try not to draw extra attention or make
them feel even more uncomfortable than they likely will be."  He paused,
then continued, "So, if no one--"

"Knight hasn't asked anything," Beranger said, locking his gaze on Nick.
"No questions?  Comments?"

"Not at the moment," he replied, forcing himself to look at the mortal
straight on and remain calm.

"Very good.  That's all," Schmidt said, and those in the room started to
leave.  "Oh, except you, Dr. Lambert.  Unless you need to be elsewhere?"

"Not that I'm aware of.  Now should be fine," she said after she had
stood, then she sat back down.  She gave a glance at Nick, who looked
downright ill on his way out behind Schanke.

For the next ten minutes, the two gave Natalie an overview of some of
what had happened in other cities--particularly injuries caused by or
inflicted on vampires, including how they healed and what injuries
didn't heal well on their own.  It had been enlightening, but not in the
manner they intended.  She already knew enough about treating an injured
vampire--much more than they did--but the news only focused on the big
events, as usual, and from what Schmidt and Beranger were telling her,
she had the impression many more smaller, less or not publicised
incidents had happened.  Their reason why they were telling her more of
what had happened in other cities was because, as it had sounded in that
hand-out, she would indeed be the doctor designated to deal with injured
vampires.  Which, she both knew and was now being told, would mostly be
removing any embedded bullets or other objects.  She could refuse at any
time, but she, of course, had not objected.

During that time, Nick and Schanke had tried to find more information on
the few names they still hadn't found photos or information on.  It was
now clear why they had been asked to note any employment information if
they found it.

Or, more accurately, the first thing Nick had done was to call his home
number and let LaCroix know what would be on the news that night.  Then,
a couple of minutes after they left and Nick had finished talking to
LaCroix, Beranger started hovering nearby.

When Natalie came back out, Beranger again vanished and Nick relaxed
slightly.

"Nick..." she started, walking up to the side of his desk.

"I know, Nat.  He knows.  He has to," Nick whispered, not turning to
look at her.  "I called home to let LaCroix know about tonight's
announcement.  Knowing him, he was probably already aware of that, too."

Moving over next to Nick's chair, she put a hand on his shoulder, only
to have it shrugged away.

"Don't, he could be back at any time.  I'll see you in the morning."
With that, Nick tried to return to work.  He also tried to decide when
it would be best to identify himself.  If it could impact where he would
be allowed to work, he wasn't going to risk being discovered later.  He
also hoped LaCroix or Janette would find someone to represent them
sooner rather than later.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (016/111)

Three nights later, Nick and Schanke were called to a scene and then to
the hospital to interview a victim.  Thankfully, it had nothing to do
with vampires.  It was an attempted homicide and was pretty
straightforward, beyond the fact that the man who had stabbed his wife
hadn't yet been apprehended.  Because the victim had survived, it got
them out of the precinct and away from Beranger's relentless stare.
Besides that, simply having a bit of non-vampire-related work for a
change made Nick feel much calmer.

This was especially true after LaCroix had made a cryptic comment that
afternoon, suggesting he would be pleased about something tonight.  The
only thing Nick could think of was that their representative had been
selected, in which case sometime tonight the precinct would receive a
letter.

But upon returning to the precinct with Schanke around two that morning,
the desk sergeant didn't stop him, no note sat on his desk, and more
importantly, Schmidt didn't call them back to the conference room right
away.  He wasn't sure to whom the letter would be addressed.  He hoped
it would be Schmidt, but since he and Schanke had been the only ones
talking to Janette--and he himself was a vampire and therefore possibly
more approachable for whoever delivered it--he suspected that it would,
literally, be hand delivered to him.

Very few vampires had come in since the announcement.  The few who did
had asked specifically for him--not him or DuBois like they had been
told in the news announcement.  That was something he wasn't too pleased
about; DuBois even less so, since he felt somewhat slighted by their
insistent requests solely for Knight.  After all, both of their photos,
not only his own, had been flashed on the news across a large portion of
Ontario.  From that alone, Nick was surprised someone hadn't called in
saying they had met him years ago and that he still appeared the same.
After all, the fact that vampires didn't age and were immortal was part
of the original announcement.

"What are you so up-tight about, Knight?  He isn't watching," Schanke
whispered across their desks nearly an hour after they had arrived back
at the precinct.  "And we *finally* have something to do besides chase
our tails hunting for info on people who, often as not, don't even
exist, or check into unsolvable murders or whatever you want to call it
when a body turns up a few quarts low.  Hey, we finally have something
*normal* to do.  Relax and celebrate, Partner."

Nick was about to say 'nothing' when he caught sight of a nervous young
vampire approaching.  He didn't recognise the young man, but his
complexion was unusually pale and sickly, even for a vampire, which the
bright fluorescent lights only emphasised.  "That," he whispered, and he
and half the precinct watched the man who was so obviously not quite
human, approach him with a small, plain ivory envelope in his hand.

Stopping mere feet from Nick, the young man asked, "Detective Knight?"
Getting a nod, he held out the envelope.  "Here.  This is for you."

Nick avoided meeting the other vampire's gaze while he took the
envelope.  The moment he had hold of it, the young man turned and left
as quickly as he had appeared.

"Nick, is that--"

"Yep, the letter from the representative," he whispered.  He suppressed
a flinch when he spotted Beranger approaching; he had obviously seen him
receive the note.

"You two, come with me and bring that," the agent said, and led the way
back to the conference room where Schmidt was waiting, working on
something at the table.

"What--"

"The letter with their representative was just delivered," Beranger
supplied, gesturing to the envelope in Nick's hand.

"Oh, excellent.  Hand it here so we can see the date and time."

"And who it is," Beranger added.

Schmidt took the envelope from Nick's outstretched hand, then flipped it
over.  Both surfaces were blank, the flap simply folded inside rather
than sealed.  Opening it, he pulled out a folded sheet of paper, opened
that, and after a few seconds, he narrowed his eyes.  Quickly following
that, his brow creased and he put his free hand to his temple.  "I don't
suppose any of you can read this," he said, handing it to Beranger, who
shook his head and handed it to Schanke, who did the same, although he
squinted his eyes a bit more.

When Nick got it, he recognised what it was immediately.  Even without
reading it he knew who had sent it, the only person who would dare.
"It's old Latin cursive," he complained, barely suppressing a groan.

"It's what?" Schmidt asked.

"Doesn't look like cursive to me," Schanke commented, moving closer to
the note again.  "More like chicken scratch."

"How would you know what it is?" Beranger said, narrowing his eyes.

"Roman cursive.  It's how Latin was often written for everyday needs."
Seeing the others' surprise, even his partner's, Nick explained, "I took
Latin and my professor forced us to learn it."

"What does it say then?" Schmidt demanded, stepping closer.

"And who sent it?" asked Beranger.

"I don't know what it says offhand; I'd need some time to translate it.
I didn't exactly think I'd ever have any use for what I learned.  I do,
however, have an idea who sent it."  He turned the sheet of paper around
and pointed to the lone letter at the bottom: A capital 'L' sitting
under the lower case letters above.  "'L' was the common way of
abbreviating the name--"

"Lucius," Beranger said.

"--Lucius in ancient Rome."  Nick glanced up at Beranger at the answer.

"Wait a second," Schmidt said, going to his files and pulling out what a
typed version of the initial lists they had done.  In this one, the
names were alphabetised, and he scanned the list down to the second page
where he found the name he was thinking of.  "Lucien LaCroix?"

"I think so," Nick hesitantly said, glancing away but bringing the note
back toward him.  "While we hadn't talked much, he does know I have an
interest in history and languages."

"What about names, Knight?  Quite a few of them pick amusing names.
Especially this LaCroix.  If his original name was Lucius, I suppose
that somewhat explains his present choice, doesn't it?"

Nick tensed.  Apparently Beranger had some knowledge of history and
languages himself.  Lucius was a name given especially to boys born near
dawn...and both Lucien and LaCroix had similar connotations to light.
"Yes, I suppose it could be what he based--"

"I wonder how many other vampires can be found simply by looking at
their names."

Nick had to hold back from crumpling LaCroix' note or, worse, injuring
Beranger and revealing himself then and there by a more violent means
than the black light.  "Probably fewer than will come in on their own,"
he stated, keeping his voice even and matter-of-fact.

"Regardless of whatever the similarity is with the names," Schmidt said,
glancing at Beranger, "Can you translate this for us, Knight?"

"I should be able to.  I might not be finished with it until tomorrow
night, though.  I'm a bit rusty, and I'll need to dig up some old
notes."

"I'm sure that will be fine," Schmidt said.

"Shouldn't someone else--"

"I'm sure Detective Knight can handle it," Schmidt said, cutting off his
counterpart.  "Just figure it out as soon as possible.  And maybe make a
copy of the note...in case we need to consult someone else."  This last
he said with a quick glance toward Beranger.  Then, taking a small piece
of paper from the table, he wrote a phone number on it.  "If you finish
the translation during the day, I want to know the date, which time they
chose, and the location the moment you know...even if it's one in the
afternoon when you figure it out."

Nick nodded, taking the small sheet of paper.  Then, mostly to avoid
giving Beranger an opportunity to make any further comments, he turned
and left, hoping that was all he needed to do.

Once they were back at their desks, Schanke asked, "So, can you really
read that?"

"Once I've updated the alphabet I think I'll be able to," Nick said, and
he pulled out a few blank sheets of paper.  First, he took several
minutes and wrote out what he hoped was the letter forms that LaCroix
had used in order.  Then he started to go through the note and rewrote
it, using the modern Latin letters below that.  He winced when things
didn't quite look right.

"What?"

"Got the B's and D's switched."

"How do you switch letters around?  It's not like you're writing it..."

Nick gave a glance to his partner, but only a short one before he
returned his focus to his desk.  Fixing those discrepancies and
finishing the rewrite, he now tried to actually translate it.  LaCroix
had made him learn both this Roman cursive and the classical form of
Latin during the first decade he had been a vampire, but he hadn't had
much use for either since.
 
"So, when did you learn that, anyway?"

He looked up.  "Many years ago.  Like I said, I had a teacher who forced
me to learn it."

"The same one who wrote that, by any chance?" Schanke whispered.

"Yes."  Then, shutting his eyes upon hearing a phone ring on another
desk, Nick sat back.  It was hard to do this in the middle of the
precinct.  He was thankful it was nearly late enough that he could go
home, and both hoped Natalie would and would not be there.  Or at least
not arrive until after he'd asked LaCroix to explain the insane reason
he had volunteered to do this.

Glancing at his watch, Nick saw that it was only a little after three in
the morning.  Since nine pm to four am was the time announced for when
vampires could come in to identify themselves, he supposed he had to
stay at least another forty-five minutes before he could go home and
confront LaCroix.  He could ask to leave even earlier, but he had a
feeling Cohen would deny the request.  While his Latin was a bit rusty,
he certainly wouldn't need even the forty-five minutes to translate the
note.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Arriving home an hour later, Nick felt his anger rise on his ride up in
the elevator.  Pulling the door open, LaCroix was there waiting for him,
offering him a glass of blood.  So much for coming home early and
possibly catching his sire off guard; as usual, LaCroix seemed to know
more than he did.  Not even glancing at the glass, he asked, "Are you
insane?"

LaCroix cocked an eyebrow.  "Perhaps, but then you've always believed
that."

"You should have had me do it, LaCroix!"

"I want you to stay out of this."

"How?  By drawing even more attention to me?  Why did you have to write
the note in Latin, and then use...this," he said, holding up a photocopy
of the chicken-scratch-like note.

"Makes them wonder what we know about them, does it not?  I'm certain
you were able to explain it away as--"

"Yes, I was able to explain it.  To Schmidt at least."  Nick took the
glass that was still held out toward him and drank it down quickly on
his way to the kitchen.  "But you know I'm planning on revealing what I
am, LaCroix.  And soon."

"I am aware of that, of course, but you wish to do that at some point
*after* this meeting, correct?"

"I would prefer it."  Spying a half-full bottle on the counter, he
crossed to it and refilled his glass.  "You couldn't find anyone else?"

"No," LaCroix answered, his faintly amused tone now hardening.  "The
only volunteer was young...far too young to have such significant
responsibility."

"I still think you should have had me do it," the younger man
complained, then took a small drink from his glass.

LaCroix approached his son.  "How many came in tonight?"

"I'm not sure.  Schanke and I were called out on another case...a
regular one, nothing involving us, for a change.  There had only been
one that came in before we left.  I'm assuming most of us will wait as
long as possible."

"Like you?"

Nick didn't comment and merely took another sip from his glass.

"Have you deciphered my note?"

"Yes."

"Have you informed the mortals what it says?"

"Not yet.  I deliberately told them it would take longer than it
actually would, and that I would need to use a few references to be sure
I got it right."

"Understood," LaCroix voiced, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
"I shall return before sunrise."

Nick nodded absently, although by then his sire was gone.  Taking his
glass and the bottle with him, he went to the sofa and sat down.
Reluctantly he turned the television on.  It was, of course, on one of
the all-day news channels that the other man had been watching.  He
closed his eyes and tried not to listen to what the news anchor was
saying.

After an hour, he was pleased that most of the news had been more
mundane, although it was clear that vampires were being viewed as more
and more deceitful, untrustworthy, and possibly even treacherous, and
that they should be feared rather than accepted.  He kept the volume
down as low as it would go and still be audible, then let his head droop
back, half resting and half listening for anything interesting.

When the elevator's noisy motor started up, he shifted, sitting up more.
He watched the door open and Natalie enter.  As she approached, his
attention snapped to the bottle and glass.  He had forgotten about them.
Reaching forward and picking up the glass, he took a sip from it to calm
his nerves and said, "It's official.  LaCroix is our representative."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No.  The meeting is set for five nights from now at four in the
morning, on a rooftop not far from here."

"So that's why he was up all day yesterday."

"What?"  At this he turned toward Natalie, who appeared quite calm.

"He never came up to your room, or I don't think he did."

Nick clenched his eyes shut.  LaCroix had done this right under his nose
and he hadn't even noticed.  He was too distracted, too worried about
other things.

"Nick?"

"Beranger is even more suspicious now," he admitted.

"Why?"

"The note.  It's on the kitchen counter."

Natalie stood and went to the counter, found the sheet of paper, and
winced.  It wasn't written in any language she could recognise offhand.
Other than the capital 'L' at the end.

"LaCroix used Latin."

"That doesn't--"

"It's the everyday version.  I think Schmidt accepted my explanation of
how I knew what it said, but Beranger made some wisecrack about our
names.  He knew what the 'L' stood for, too."

"Which is?" Natalie asked.  "Or is it merely assumed--"

"Lucius."  Then, reluctantly, he drank more of the blood in the glass.
It calmed his nerves and relieved some of the tension.  Again he leaned
back, letting his neck relax.  A minute later he felt Natalie sit next
to him, then she leaned her head on his shoulder.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (017/111)

Five nights later, when Nick arrived at work, Schmidt immediately called
him back to the conference room.  They hadn't yet gone over any of the
details, although Flanagan had informed him that he and Briggs had set
up cameras earlier that afternoon to record the meeting.

Entering the conference room, Nick found Schmidt and Beranger there
alone.  "You wanted to see me?"

"Oh, yes, I was wondering if you could perhaps tell me anything about
LaCroix."

Nick downright froze.

"From that note, anyway.  I dare say I know about as much as you do from
listening to that radio program of his, but I wondered if you could take
a guess at his age from the note."

At that, Nick somewhat relaxed, although he could see Beranger watching
him closely.  "Assuming that was his original language and was how he
wrote as a...before he became a vampire--"

"Yes?  Go on," Schmidt said, but Beranger's eyes narrowed at Nick's
change in wording.

"Probably somewhere between 1,600 and maybe 2,200 years old.  Maybe a
little older, but no younger than 1,600."

"So he's likely about 2,000 years old?" Schmidt asked somewhat
incredulously.  Then he added, "Give or take a few centuries."

"Probably."

"Well, I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but it's good to know ahead
of time, I suppose," Schmidt said, making a note.  "Oh, and meet here at
2:15.  We're going to have a quick meeting."

Nick nodded and left, only to realise Beranger was following him.
Before he had reached the main part of the precinct, he felt the
mortal's hand on his arm.  "Do you want something?" he said, turning,
his voice a bit terser than intended.

Beranger smiled.  "Just wanted to make sure you weren't late for the
show this time."

Nick tensed, but the other man had already turned and headed back to the
conference room.  He was afraid of what Beranger would do whenever he
revealed himself.  And he had a feeling the agent would see to it that
it happened...one way or another.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

At five minutes 'til four that morning, Nick, Schanke and Schmidt stood
several floors beneath the roof of the building LaCroix had designated
as the meeting place--thankfully for them, an abandoned warehouse.
Anderson and DuBois were near the door to the roof.  From where Nick
was, they could see three angles of the roof.  On it stood Beranger, who
had also been wired, although the microphone had been pinned to his
collar rather than hidden away.
 
Nick had initially winced when he found out it would be Beranger rather
than Schmidt whom LaCroix would meet.  He was, however, exceedingly
eager to watch LaCroix put the tiresome mortal in his place.  With the
microphone, they would also be able to hear their conversation in
addition to watching it--which should be relatively short.

They intended for Beranger to ask LaCroix a few questions he didn't
actually have to answer, then give him several pages that were basically
newer versions of what Nick had given Janette over a week ago.  And that
was it for this initial meeting, unless LaCroix asked any questions.
Nick had explained everything he knew about the meeting to his sire,
which would be another advantage he'd have over the mortal.

As it reached and slightly passed four, Nick started to pace.  Then at
five past, out of the corner of his eye on the view-screens, he saw
LaCroix land at the far edge of the roof in front of Beranger, then walk
slowly forward.  LaCroix was wearing his customary black, and Nick
caught a split-second of his sire's often seen smirk before he reached
Beranger, his expression now all business.

"I am Special--"

"Agent Evan Beranger," LaCroix finished.  "Originally from Salt Lake, I
believe."

Beranger didn't falter upon hearing his name.  "And you are Lucien
LaCroix, yes?"

"That is correct."

"A 2,000 year old vampire?"

At this, LaCroix stiffened slightly.

"I see that's correct.  Your friend--Detective Knight--gave us a rough
range.  Apparently, he wasn't lying."

"He is not my...friend," the vampire replied, his tone close to a hiss.

"Of course not."  Beranger shifted before asking, "Don't suppose you'd
like to give us your age in more specific terms, would you?"  He paused,
giving the vampire time to reply.  Then, when he didn't, he asked
another question, "Or perhaps you'd like to provide a list of other
names you've used recently?"

"Lucien LaCroix is the only name I have used...recently."

"Maybe in this life, here in Toronto, but--"

"If I am as old as you think I am, do you really think 'recently' refers
only to 'this life here in Toronto' as you put it?"

"All right, then, how about other names you have used over the past
century, instead?"

LaCroix simply smiled; his answer, of course, was the same.  He had no
reason to repeat it.

When LaCroix didn't answer, Beranger commented, "Didn't think so."

The mortal lifted one hand to his jacket.  "Now, as I suspect you are
aware, I have something for you."  At this, he removed his hand, but
instead of some folded sheets of paper, he withdrew a 9mm handgun.
Without hesitation he pulled the trigger repeatedly, emptying the entire
magazine into the vampire's chest, seven shots' worth.

LaCroix first staggered backward, then fell to his knees in shock, not
at all expecting the mortals to be this stupid, not even from everything
he had heard...not even from knowing what this mortal could be.

Beranger reloaded and moved closer to the fallen vampire, again aiming.
When he began to fire again, however, LaCroix grabbed his outstretched
arm, pulled, and even as he was shot another four times, he yanked the
mortal's arm down and sank his fangs deep into the mortal's neck.

Schmidt had radioed for Anderson and DuBois to go to the roof as soon as
he could after the initial shots were fired, then he called an
ambulance, watching the vampire release Beranger, who appeared lifeless.
LaCroix had struggled to his feet, and, after nearly falling, he turned
clumsily and vanished, flying off the roof.

Nick felt sick watching what the mortal had done.  He turned to his
partner and pulled on his arm.  "Schanke, call Natalie and tell her to
meet me at my place," he said in a whisper.

"Wha--"

"Just do it!" he said more harshly.  Shoving the Caddy's keys into his
partner's hand, he added, "I'm sure that's where he went.  Call Natalie,
then see what you can do here to help the others."  With that, he left
his partner standing there, his mouth slightly agape.

First Nick went to the street, then flew at ground level for about a
block, wanting to be out of the view of any of the cameras placed around
the building.  Then he headed more rapidly to the loft.

Barely a minute later, he unlatched the skylight.  The sudden scent of
his sire's blood nearly overwhelmed him, and he entered and flew down to
the ground level.  LaCroix lay face-down mere metres from the stairwell
door, which was open, the knob smeared with blood.

Nick flew across the room to the other man, knelt, then rolled LaCroix
onto his back.  He was unconscious and didn't react to being moved, not
even when Nick spoke the LaCroix' name.
 
He flinched upon seeing the raw and weeping wounds.  At least three of
the bullets, assuredly wood or mostly wood, from what he could guess,
were either in or very near the other vampire's heart.  Rather than try
to wake LaCroix again, he flew once more, this time to the bathroom
where he knew Natalie kept a small collection of extra medical supplies.
Pulling the drawer open, he found them, grabbed the items he needed,
then flew most of the distance back to LaCroix.

Again kneeling, Nick set the tools down so he could undo his sire's
shirt and move the blood-soaked fabric out of the way.  He suppressed
another flinch upon seeing the wounds more clearly.  He also smelled
something faint that he couldn't quite place.  Ignoring it, he grabbed
the scalpel and forceps and started with one of the more potentially
fatal wounds.

First he probed with the forceps, hoping the bullet wasn't too deep.
When that failed, Nick took the scalpel and elongated the wound.
LaCroix didn't react or wake at either action, which worried him.  He
should be in pain.  Once he hit something solid, however, he saw his
sire's muscles twitch.  Taking the forceps, he once again managed to get
hold of the bullet, causing another twitch, then he tugged on the
offending piece of wood, only for LaCroix to abruptly wake and grab his
arm, causing him to release the forceps, and roar with pain.

It took several seconds of grappling before he managed to pin LaCroix'
hands down on the cement floor, and almost instantly his sire fell
unconscious and stopped struggling.

"Nick?" Schanke said from the door, his eyes glancing to the blood on
and near the knob.  "I heard--"  He shook his head and stopped talking
when he saw his partner holding LaCroix down by the wrists.  He was
tempted to turn back around and leave, but didn't.

"What are you--you should have stayed!" Nick hissed.

"And do what?  Anderson, DuBois and Schmidt were taking care of
everything.  Besides, I get the feeling there was nothing any of us
could do, anyway.  Pretty sure Beranger is actually dead this time; he's
not gonna wake up and murder anyone else."

Nick took in a deep breath.  He hated the idea of asking his partner for
help, but he knew he couldn't do this on his own.  "Then...then come
over here.  I could use your help."

Schanke started forward, but stopped after a few steps, warily eyeing
the unconscious vampire.  "Are you sure he's even--"

"Just come here."  Once his partner had done so and knelt, Nick
explained, "I need you to keep him still."

Schanke cautiously moved closer, but didn't otherwise move toward the
injured vampire.

"Put as much weight as you can on his wrists.  And *don't* let go, no
matter what happens."  Nick released LaCroix and waited until his
partner had done as instructed.  Then he picked up the fallen scalpel
and forceps.  He had been prepared to reopen the wound, but the cut he
had already made hadn't even begun to heal.

Again LaCroix twitched when he got a grip on the bullet, and he woke
with another start and scream of pain as he pulled on it.  Nick had
almost managed to free the chunk of wood when Schanke lost his grip and
LaCroix shifted.  This time, while Nick helped Schanke hold LaCroix
down, he didn't black out.  Instead he stared at the ceiling, almost
catatonic.

"Let go and move out of the way for a minute," Nick said, and after his
partner had backed up, he also released his own hold on LaCroix.  He
didn't pull back this time, but instead supported his weight with one
hand and moved his other wrist over LaCroix' mouth.  Almost instantly
LaCroix struck, biting him roughly and taking his blood.

Schanke cringed, seeing LaCroix feed from Nick up close, then he felt
even more ill when LaCroix stopped and he saw his partner's bloody wrist
and the other vampire's blood-coated fangs.

Nick looked up, then away at the expression on his partner's face.  "Is
Natalie on her way?"

"Yeah."  Schanke glanced at his watch.  It had been a little over ten
minutes since he had called her.  "Should be here soon.  Anything I can
do?"

"Not unless you want to dig for bullets," Nick said, his eyes darting to
the one he had been attempting to remove.  It was nearly out, simply
sitting in the wound he had lengthened that still hadn't healed.
Reaching for it with his hand, he pried it free with a slight jerk from
LaCroix.  After a couple of seconds the bullet burnt his fingers, and he
dropped it onto the floor, snapping his hand back.

"What'd you do that for?"

"Garlic, I think.  The bullets must have been soaked in it."

"The extras we have...they're not--"

"No, they're just--Beranger did this, solely for this purpose."  Looking
at his fingers, he saw they had already mostly healed.  But he was well
fed, and LaCroix' blood on the faint burns had sped the healing greatly.
His attention snapped down when his sire grabbed his other arm and held
it loosely.  Nick closed his eyes and listened, waiting for Natalie's
heartbeat and footsteps to enter his senses.  Instead, all he could hear
was Schanke start to pace and mutter about how big of a mess this was.
There was nothing else they could do until Natalie got there.

Nick waited for several minutes, during which time LaCroix again passed
out, his grip slackening to nothing and falling away.  At this, Nick
again opened his eyes to more closely watch LaCroix, then reluctantly
stood and left his sire's side, but only long enough to call the Raven
and tell Janette that something had happened...but not to come over; he
was sure that once Natalie arrived, they'd be able to tend to LaCroix'
wounds.  The last thing LaCroix would want upon waking was another
concerned face hovering over him.

Then, finally, another couple of minutes after returning to LaCroix, he
heard a car pull up outside, then a door slam shut shortly after.  He
continued to listen, and didn't look up until he heard Natalie gasp.

"What the hell--oh, God, Nick, what happened?"

"Beranger shot him at close range," Schanke answered.  "Multiple times."

"Is he--"

"He's alive.  He's in and out of consciousness."  Nick reached forward,
grabbed the scalpel and forceps, and held them up.

Natalie crossed the few feet from the door to where Nick knelt over
LaCroix, knelt next to the latter, then took the proffered items without
question.

"Start with those closest to his heart.  I already removed one.  It was
somehow infused with garlic.  Not a lot, but enough to burn on contact."

Nodding, Natalie bent over, only to be distracted when Nick moved to
hold LaCroix down by his wrists, pressing them into the floor
immediately above his shoulders.  That made her nervous.  What had
LaCroix done when Nick removed the first one?  Then she noticed one of
his wrists had a torn and bloody wound on it.  He had either offered his
blood to LaCroix, or it had been taken by force.

Focusing again on LaCroix' wounds, Natalie saw where Nick had removed
the first bullet; there was a vertical cut through that wound.  Picking
another site, Natalie did roughly as he had done.  She first tried to
get to the bullet with just the forceps, then cut the wound slightly,
but less than he had.  When she managed to grab the bullet, she watched
LaCroix tense, likely from the pain.  Then, when she started to remove
it, she initially backed away when LaCroix woke...and mindlessly fought
against Nick's grip.  So this was why he was holding him down.

"Quickly, Natalie."

Nodding, she again got hold of the bullet and this time didn't let go as
LaCroix struggled and hissed at them.  He neither relaxed nor fell
unconscious.  Discarding it near where the first one had been deposited,
she went for the third and final bullet that was nearly in LaCroix'
heart.  This time she encountered a bone fragment.  "Er, Nick," she
said, holding it up.

"Just...put it back after."

Natalie winced at the thought, but removed the next bullet.  This time
LaCroix relaxed after it was pulled free.  She put the small chunk of
bone back in the wound, then started to hear LaCroix mutter something
unintelligible as she started for another, which caused her to hesitate
and pause.

"Nick, what is he--"

He looked up, his expression stone-hard.  He understood most of what
LaCroix was saying and was aware that LaCroix wouldn't want the others
to know.  He was remembering the day he was brought across.  The
mountain exploding, the sky raining fiery ash and rock, the sun burning.
Even he didn't know the details of that day, of all that LaCroix had
experienced.  Not until now.

"Nick?"

"Ignore it.  Just continue," he hissed, shooting a split-second glare up
at her.

Natalie stiffened at Nick's tone, but started on the next closest wound.
LaCroix was no longer twitching or jerking away when she bumped or moved
them, and his muscles had fully relaxed.  After she removed yet another
chunk of wood, she waited as he released LaCroix' arms, only for LaCroix
to grab hold of Nick instead, pulling him further down.  This time, the
older man's words became clearer, stronger, more insistent.  Natalie
could recognise the language he was speaking--Latin--and her mind caught
on one periodically repeated word she recognised--Vesuvius.

So did Schanke, who had been staying out of the way, watching, and he
stepped forward at the word.  "Wait, I think he said--"

"Vesuvius," she whispered and looked toward Nick, who now seemed to be
trying to comfort LaCroix in the same language her patient was speaking,
although Nick's words seemed less fluid.  LaCroix didn't seem to hear
any of them.  "Nick?" she started, then, once she had his attention, she
asked, "LaCroix was--"

"He was in Pompeii the day the city was buried.  He was--"  He closed
his eyes.  "LaCroix was brought across that day."

"So he--"

"I really don't know anything else, Nat.  He never told me any details
beyond--"  He looked down at LaCroix, whose words had again become
incoherent.  "Beyond what he's saying, but honestly...really, most of it
doesn't make much sense.  Don't ask about it again, and don't tell him
you know even this, certainly not until I've talked him," he said,
turning first to Natalie, and then to his partner.  "And that goes for
you, too, Skank."  He shook his head once, then turned his attention
back to Natalie.  "Keep going."

She did so, and removing the next bullet, the sixth so far, including
the one Nick had removed, went fairly easily.  LaCroix barely reacted
this time, although when she set the bullet down and looked back, she
noticed his eyes were a bright gold.

Before she started on the next wound, LaCroix shifted, pulling Nick's
non-wounded wrist toward him and sinking his fangs into the thin flesh.
She watched Nick gasp with pain or pleasure--she wasn't sure which--and
then tense, his eyes focusing behind her.  "What--"  Turning, she ceased
mid-question upon seeing Schmidt standing just inside the loft in front
of the door to the stairs, his mouth agape.

"I'm--" Schmidt started to say, his gaze dropping to Nick, Natalie, and
LaCroix.  The vampire was feeding from Knight's wrist, the hands of all
three now covered in blood.  Only Schanke's were nearly blood free.  "I
overheard your conversation before you left.  The door to the stairs was
open, and--" he said, his attention shifting to Nick, who now reminded
him of the frightened vampires at the Raven.  "You're...like him?" he
asked, his eyes darting down to LaCroix for a second.

Nick winced when LaCroix released his arm, and his thoughts began to
clear without the distraction of his blood being forcibly removed.
"Yes."

Schmidt nodded, then shook his head.  "As you probably know, Beranger
was, ah, dead by the time the ambulance got there.  I had no idea
he'd--"

"Please leave," Nick said, turning his gaze back down toward his sire,
who had once again fallen unconscious.

"I want to ask--"

"Leave," he repeated, his voice close to a hiss as he met Schmidt's
gaze.

"Were you planning to reveal what you are?" he asked simply, his
wavering tone betraying his nervousness.

At that, Nick looked away again, down at his unresponsive master.

"Would you have come to me or Captain Cohen on your own and informed us
you were a vampire?"

Nick closed his eyes and whispered, "Yes."

"Then we'll--we can talk when you come in tonight."  Schmidt nervously
turned toward the door, but didn't actually leave.  His gaze drifted
over to Natalie.  "Please come to the precinct tonight when you come in
as well, Dr. Lambert."  Then he nervously left, his gaze lingering on
the bloodied door for a moment before he slipped out.

"Finish it, Nat," he said.  Then he turned to Schanke.  "Bring me a
bottle from the refrigerator."  Again he closed his eyes.  He felt
absolutely exhausted.

"Nick, I'd prefer if you were paying attention...in case he isn't fully
out."

Opening his eyes, he found Natalie watching him, clearly concerned.
"Sorry."

With Nick's attention again focused, she started removing the remaining
bullets that were in LaCroix' left shoulder.  These were much easier to
remove.  She removed one, then even though Schanke had returned with the
blood, Nick had her go ahead and remove another first.  Once she had,
she brushed off his insistence for her to continue.

Reluctantly he took the bottle Schanke had brought him and upended it,
quickly drinking as much as he could so that Natalie could continue.
Setting the bottle down, he nodded to her.

It only took another five minutes to finish.  Of the last three bullet
wounds--eleven total--one had passed clean through, one was lodged in
his shoulder, and the third had embedded itself in LaCroix' left arm.
The last was the hardest to remove, the bullet having shattered that
bone, which was already trying to heal, despite the chunks of wood mixed
in with the torn and broken tissues.

Once finished, Natalie noticed his other wounds had barely begun to
heal--especially those near his heart.  "Nick--"

"Schanke, go home, or back to the precinct, whatever."

"Er," he started, pulling out his partner's car keys.  "I don't really
have--"

"Take the Caddy.  Either drive it home or leave it at the precinct.
Right now, I don't care.  I don't need it to get to work."  Then,
turning toward his partner, he added, "There's nothing else to do here
besides wait."

"What about the--well, the blood in the stairwell and on the floor,
and--"

"I'll take care of that, Schanke," Natalie answered.

"We both will," Nick answered.  He really didn't expect to sleep much
today.  "Go home.  Don't worry; it'll be fine."

Schanke looked ready to protest again, but eventually he nodded.  "Okay,
I guess...  See you tonight?"

"Yeah," Nick replied half-heartedly as Schanke slunk toward the
stairwell door and out of sight.

"Do you really intend to go in tonight?" Natalie asked in a whisper.

"If I can," he said more firmly.  "Unless he's still out tonight and
Janette can't come over.  I won't leave him here alone, not with Schmidt
knowing he's here."

Natalie nodded, then got to her feet.  "I'll make sure the door is
closed and at least clean off any blood on the outside of it."

Seeing him start to stand, Natalie walked the couple of steps to him and
put her hands on his shoulders, which kept him on his knees.  "No, Nick.
You drink that before doing anything," she said, gesturing to the nearly
empty bottle next to him.  "And even more after that, probably.  You
look almost as bad off as LaCroix."

Nick closed his eyes as Natalie moved away and the pressure lifted from
his shoulders.  He remained where he was until she had gathered up all
the bullets and taken them, the scalpel, and the forceps to the kitchen.
Only then did he reach for the partial bottle of blood.

He stood up and headed toward the refrigerator, and he saw Natalie
coming back with cleaning supplies.  He shut his eyes again.  Schmidt
now knew what he was...and possibly others knew or would soon know.  And
he'd have to call Janette again.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (018/111)

That night Natalie woke about a half an hour before sunset.  While she
didn't have to go into work for a couple of hours, Nick had mentioned he
wanted to leave the moment the sun had set.

That morning she had cleaned the blood from the stairwell.  The doorknob
on the door to the stairs below had been forced open, but at least the
deadbolt, which Nick didn't usually lock, still worked.  Nick,
meanwhile, had fully removed LaCroix' shirt, cleaned the blood from his
wounds, and taken him upstairs.  Then they had both silently cleaned the
blood smears on the floor.  Although, honestly, not quite all of it came
up.  She'd be able to clean it better later, but for now the darker
spots on the floor were an unwanted reminder.

After that, Nick had drunk more blood and reluctantly agreed to try and
sleep--after he first made another call to Janette.  Natalie had stayed
downstairs on the sofa, although twice she had gone up to the bedroom
and checked on the two.  The first time she had covered them, LaCroix
looking oddly limp and cold due to his paleness and lack of a shirt.
That time Nick had been sound asleep.  Her second trip Nick had, she
suspected, been having some sort of nightmare.  LaCroix, however, had
appeared the same...and certainly no better.

Now she was checking on them for a third time, and was a bit surprised
to see the two facing one another, their arms wrapped around each other.
LaCroix still had an almost blue tone to his skin, but at least the
wounds on his arm and shoulder had healed.  She couldn't see any of the
other wounds.

Approaching, she tensed slightly seeing fresh wounds on Nick's neck.
LaCroix had apparently fed from him again, and recently.  Nick looked
absolutely exhausted, even as he lay there asleep.  She hated to wake
him, but she reached forward and put her hand on his shoulder, shaking
him slightly while she said his name.

Slowly Nick awoke to find LaCroix right in front of him.  Instinctively,
he pushed his sire away.

"Nick?  You wanted to go in at sunset, right?" Natalie's voice came from
behind him.

At that, he fully woke, rolled onto his back, and glanced at his alarm
clock.  Sunset was less than half an hour away.

Natalie, however, was distracted by LaCroix.  Now that Nick had moved to
where he was no longer blocking the other man's wounds, she flinched.
The wounds nearest his heart still hadn't fully healed.  They had only
healed to the point they were a scab...barely healed for a vampire.
"Has he been awake at all?"

"Not that I am aware of," Nick said, shaking his head.  He didn't count
the brief moment when LaCroix had bitten him, since that was merely
instinct.  He somehow doubted LaCroix would remember much beyond getting
shot.  "Wait for me downstairs."

Nodding, Natalie first watched Nick get out of bed, his muscles and
joints seeming stiff.  Then she turned and left his room to wait
downstairs as he requested.  But instead of sitting on the couch to
wait, she started pacing in the kitchen.

Eventually she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a nearly full
bottle of blood.  After that, she returned to pacing until she saw Nick
at the top of the stairs.  Then she stopped and her worry increased.

He looked awful.  He was pale, his features literally drooped, and she
had a feeling he wanted nothing more than to return to bed or simply
pass out where he stood.  Worse, she could still see the wound on Nick's
neck; it had only partially healed, although it was further healed than
the majority of LaCroix' wounds.

Nick froze seeing the bottle in Natalie's hand.  It still felt wrong
when she pressed him to drink blood, especially since it was human
blood.  He had become used to her trying to wean him off of it.
Descending the stairs, he tried to keep his gaze on her face.  Silently,
he took the bottle of blood from her hands.  Continuing past her, he
opened it and drank from it.  The blood invigorated him, and much of his
tiredness melted away.  Until he stopped drinking it.

"Do you think Schmidt told anyone?" Natalie mused aloud.

Nick stiffened and took another quick drink.  "I don't know.  I asked
Janette to come over tonight.  She should be here a few minutes after
sunset.  Just--"

"You aren't going to stay until she gets here, are you?"

"No."  He closed his eyes, but a second later, he felt Natalie's hand on
his arm and opened them again, turned, and looked at her.  Then he
turned away.

"Nick--"

"If I've been--if I can't go back to work, or if they tell me to go home
because of what--" his voice trailed off, his last word barely audible.

Natalie moved in front of him and pulled him into an embrace.  Initially
he tensed, but after a few seconds, she felt his arms wrap around her,
the bottle press against her back, and then he buried his face in her
neck.  She could feel him faintly shaking.  He was afraid of going in.
Of course he was.  Wouldn't she be if she were in his place right now?
Especially after what had happened that morning?  "I could go with
you...if you want."

Nick shook his head, still holding her tight.  Loosening his grip, he
added, "No, Natalie.  I want you to stay here...at least until Janette
arrives.  Besides, I should see you when you come in, right?"

Looking up, Natalie could see a faint smile on his features.  It was
somewhat forced, but it was nonetheless present and slightly diminished
his tiredness.  "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"With Schmidt and Cohen, maybe.  I really don't know anyone else well
enough to guess how they'd react.  If they know, I just--"  He closed
his eyes for a moment and shook his head, and after a few seconds, he
nodded.  "You're right, it'll probably be fine.  At least tonight."

"Even if they know, they'll be too surprised to really react," she said.
She reached up toward Nick's neck, where she had seen the wounds earlier
and pushed his head to the side.

"Healed?" he asked, a touch of concern audible in that single word.

"Yep, completely.  At least you won't be getting any strange looks about
that."

Nick again nodded, his faint smile returning for a split second before
vanishing.  Taking a step back from Natalie, he raised the bottle of
blood to his lips and drank more of the blood.  He repeated this action
once more, then recorked the bottle and returned it to the refrigerator.
Turning back around to face her, he stated seriously, "Be careful around
LaCroix.  If you go near him, make sure you're not the only source of
blood within reach.  I'll see you in a couple of hours."  With that, he
turned, not even waiting for a reply, verbal or not.  Since it was still
a couple of minutes before sunset, he headed for the elevator, flashing
a nervous smile right before the door slid shut.

Natalie stayed put until she heard the elevator stop, then she glanced
upstairs.  It would probably be a good five minutes, at least, until
Janette arrived.  She went to the refrigerator, pulled out the bottle of
blood Nick had just put back, and took it with her upstairs.

Entering Nick's room, she slowed upon seeing LaCroix' pale form still
lying as it had when Nick had rolled away.  He looked horribly
uncomfortable.  Worse, the skin of his bare arms and torso still had a
slight bluish tinge, and it was this that made her move closer.  She
knew vampires didn't really feel cold like she would, and it was
probably more a result of blood loss and the toll from his healing
injuries than actual chill, but it still made her feel concerned.

Natalie set the bottle of blood on the nightstand.  Then, after making
sure LaCroix was solidly asleep, she pulled the sheets and comforter up
to cover him.  She even slightly tucked it in when he didn't react.
Straightening back up, she was tempted to leave, but hesitated.  He did
seem different now compared to the few other times she had seen him
sleeping.  He appeared much more relaxed and not stiff at all.

But then, before, she somewhat suspected he had actually been awake many
of the times she had thought he was sleeping, so perhaps that was the
difference.  And it wasn't as if he looked 'well' either.  He resembled
a corpse crumpled on the ground at a crime scene more than anyone,
mortal or vampire, did sleeping.

Deciding to stay in the room at least until Janette arrived, she grabbed
the bottle on the nightstand.  Sitting on the edge of the bed facing the
head of the bed, she held the bottle between her side and LaCroix, and
waited.

After five minutes, Janette still wasn't there.  Soon another five
minutes had passed.  She started to worry.  Janette was coming, right?
And what if something had happened at the Raven?

Nearly fifteen minutes after sunset, Natalie heard a noise downstairs.
First, she merely glanced toward the door.  Then, after several seconds,
she stood and turned to fully face the doorway--and Janette.

"You should not be so near him."

Natalie tensed at the vampiress' harsh tone and stiff stance.

Walking forward, Janette changed her focus from the mortal to LaCroix
and her body softened.  "Has he woken?" she asked, her tone almost
motherly.

"Er," Natalie started, a bit surprised at the change in Janette's voice,
"not that we could tell.  Not really."

"So he hasn't fed," the vampiress surmised, moving closer and sitting on
the bed.  She reached forward toward LaCroix' face, but pulled her hand
back at the last moment.  If she woke him, he would be angry about and
disapproving of the touch.

"He's taken Nick's blood," Natalie answered.  "Twice this morning, and
again about an hour ago."

Janette turned her head to examine Natalie, clearly concerned by what
she had just learned, but she couldn't read anything else in the other
woman's expression.  "How is Nicolas?"

"I'm not sure.  Tired, exhausted."  Then, after a pause, she added, "And
I don't know what Nick told you, but Schmidt came over this morning
while we were, ah, working on LaCroix.  He now knows what Nick is.  We
don't know if he told anyone yet, but I'm sure he'll have to tell at
least Cohen now."

Janette was shocked and torn between getting up and leaving, going to
the precinct to ask Nick some questions, or staying there to watch over
LaCroix.  She felt as confused and distressed as she had earlier that
morning, yet it wasn't quite the same.  She had known immediately
something had gone very wrong, but soon after, she hadn't been able to
sense anything.  Not LaCroix, not even Nick.  He had called her right
when she had prepared to leave, to try and find them...  But now, if
Schmidt had been here and seen LaCroix, who else knew he was here?  That
was assuredly why Nick had called her, why he had requested she stay at
the loft tonight while he was at work.

She turned back to LaCroix, leaning over to pull the comforter and then
the sheets down.  She tensed at the barely healing wounds in the centre
of the other vampire's chest.  This time when she reached forward, she
didn't pull her hand back at the last moment.  Instead, she placed the
palm of her hand gently over the wounds.  After nearly a minute she
whispered, "These should be healed by now.  Are you certain he's fed
from Nicolas?"

"I know he did."  Thinking of Nick's comments from that morning for an
explanation of why he wouldn't have healed, Natalie muttered, "It must
be the garlic."

"What?"

"Ah, Nick said the bullets had been infused with garlic.  That would
slow the healing, wouldn't it?  And I think some of his other wounds had
healed."

Janette was confused.  She removed her hand and saw half a dozen scabbed
over wounds.  "How many times was he shot?"

"Eleven.  Only one passed through."  Natalie closed her eyes, trying to
remember what bones she had noticed broken, then, once again focusing on
Janette, she explained, "His sternum, at least four ribs, and his left
upper arm were all broken, shattered, or chipped in some way."

Turning back to LaCroix, Janette tried to hide her shock.  Nick hadn't
told her any of this.  He had only initially said that LaCroix had been
shot at the meeting, then later he had asked her to come over and stay
with LaCroix while he was at work.  Examining LaCroix, Janette's
thoughts, like Natalie's, focused on how uncomfortable he looked.  "Put
that down," she said to Natalie with a glance to the bottle.

Doing so, Natalie turned to find Janette already on the other side of
the bed.  She must have flown.  Seeing Janette pull on LaCroix' shoulder
to roll him onto his back, Natalie moved to the opposite side and helped
her, pulling the covers the rest of the way down, straightening his
legs.  Next, after Janette had laid LaCroix' nearest hand on his
abdomen, Natalie knelt on the bed and leaned over the vampire to reach
his other hand and place it with his other.

Abruptly LaCroix' arm came to life and Natalie jerked her hand away, but
it was too late.  The vampire's fingers had snatched her wrist, and he
was pulling her sideways.

"No!" Janette hissed.  She pried LaCroix' fingers from Natalie's wrist,
allowing him to grab her own instead.  She closed her eyes and gasped
when LaCroix brought her arm to his lips and bit into the underside of
her forearm.

Still recovering from being startled, Natalie watched LaCroix fed
greedily from Janette.  She was struck by the similarity of Janette's
reaction to Nick's from that morning.  While at first she saw a hint of
pain, the vampiress' reaction quickly became dominated by pleasure, a
faint smile gracing her lips.  When LaCroix' arm went limp and ceased
feeding, clearly no more awake than a few minutes before, and Janette
pulled her hand back, her curiosity got the better of her.  "Does having
your blood taken like that feel...good?  Even if it's not...expected?"
she asked, gesturing toward LaCroix.

"Very much so," Janette whispered, then smiled.  "Feeling your blood
rush from you is at least momentarily enjoyable.  You would also think
so, even as a mortal."  Seeing Natalie about to reply, she said, "You
should not be up here, Natalie."  She stood and pulled the mortal back
until she was also standing, then guided her to the door, out onto the
balcony, and down the stairs.

Natalie felt her arms released once they reached the kitchen, then she
followed Janette, who retrieved a glass from a cabinet.  It bothered her
slightly that Janette knew where Nick kept such things, but less than
she thought it would.  When Janette flashed her a somewhat sad smile,
she returned it.  In another second Janette vanished, flying up to
Nick's room and disappearing through the doorway.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (019/111)

Getting to the precinct had been more difficult than Nick than had
expected.  He had left a couple of minutes too early, and to avoid
burns, he had had to keep entirely to the shadows.  Arriving and walking
to his desk, he had found it strange.  No one looked at him any
differently than they had the night before.  Perhaps slightly
differently, but it was probably more because of what had happened that
morning and the fact that he undoubtedly looked at least half as bad as
he felt.

Preparing to sit down, he saw Cohen come out of her office, her gaze
locked on him.  After taking his coat off, he cautiously approached.

"Schmidt wants to see you."

Nick nodded, not quite meeting Cohen's eyes.  Had she been informed of
what he was?  He didn't think so, since after relaying the message, she
had simply turned and returned to her office, not sparing him an extra
glance.

Reaching the conference room door, he hesitated.  He had an urge to
leave, to return home.  Or to just take the Caddy and drive.  However,
since Cohen already knew he was there, he couldn't put this off any
longer, not without being asked why.  Knocking on the door, he heard
Schmidt tell him to come in.  Opening the door, he watched the
mortal--the only occupant of the room--turn toward him.

"Ah, good.  I had hoped you might come in early.  Sit down," he said,
gesturing to the chair closest to where he himself sat, at the end of
the table with stacks of papers and forms in front of him.

Nick silently closed the door and sat as instructed, locking his worried
gaze on the mortal.

"First, I want you to answer any questions I ask, and I expect you to
answer them truthfully and not simply with what you think I want to
hear.  The same rules apply when your captain questions you later."

"Have you told her yet?"

"No.  I thought I should talk to you first."  Schmidt paused, then asked
his first question, "How is Mr. LaCroix?"

"What will be done to him?  For killing Beranger like that?" Nick
countered with a couple of questions of his own.

Schmidt hesitated and broke the detective's gaze.  "Probably nothing.  I
highly suspect his actions will be judged as instinctive and ruled
officially as self-defence."  Again glancing up, he asked, almost
worried, "He is still alive, right?"

Nick nodded.  "He'll recover."

Shaking his head, he said, "I had no idea Beranger would do something
like that.  He had given no indication of animosity toward vampires, nor
that he might--"

"I knew," Nick whispered, closing his eyes.

"What?  You *knew*?  How did you know?"

"Didn't you notice how he liked to single me out?  He sensed what I was.
He knew I was a vampire.  And I recognised what *he* was and informed
LaCroix."

"But...how could he know what--"

"Back in Salt Lake, he was attacked and nearly killed by a vampire.
Sometimes when that happens, the victim is...changed slightly.  They can
sense us, and will often hunt us, either out of a desire for revenge or
a biological compulsion."

"So he wasn't--well, he wasn't a normal human either?" Schmidt asked,
clearly confused.

"He would have been more or less normal."

"Is there any way to tell if--  Is there any way to identify them,
others like him?"

"If so, I'm not aware of it.  They often but not always have clear
wounds where they were bitten, and some of them are sensitive to
sunlight, but not like a vampire."

"And you said you told LaCroix about this, that Beranger was...like
this?"

"Yes."

Schmidt took in a deep breath.  "What else did you tell him, or any
other vampire, for that matter?"

At this, Nick averted his gaze.  He had feared this question, aware his
answer could have a substantial impact on whether he remained or not.
Figuring a full disclosure would be best, he answered, "Everything I
learned.  Natalie and Schanke also helped."

"They knew you were a vampire before this morning?"

"Yes."

"How long have they known?"

"Schanke's known at least since we brought Byron Morrell in.  I
confirmed his suspicions the following morning."

"And Dr. Lambert?"

He shut his eyes tight.  "Since long before all of this began."

"How long?"

"We met on her 28th birthday...a bit over five years ago.  I woke up on
her table and couldn't make her forget what had happened."

Schmidt nodded.  "And Janette and LaCroix?  How do you really know
them?"

At this, Nick stiffened and shook his head.  "I'd prefer not to answer."

"Your answer won't leave this room."

Nick stopped, locking his gaze with the mortal.  He didn't particularly
want to answer, but he did somehow feel Schmidt wouldn't tell anyone
else...and he knew it would be good to cooperate as much as possible.
"LaCroix is...he is the vampire who brought me across," he slowly
answered.

"Brought you--"

"He made me into a vampire.  Janette was also brought across by
LaCroix."

"So they are, what, your family?"

"Yes."

"And you intend to tell them anything you learn or are told about what
is happening, correct?"

"Probably, yes."

Schmidt turned to the table, moved some of the papers around, and pulled
out a copy of the original list of vampires from the Raven.  "You
realise you'll have to add your name to this list in the near future."

"Ask Natalie to do it whenever it's necessary."

"Do I even need to ask her?"  Schmidt held up the paper.  "The bite on
LaCroix' neck.  You were the last person with him that night.  You're
the one who took his blood, aren't you?"

Nick hesitantly nodded.

"Why didn't you burn that night?"

"I...did.  I had just enough time to heal adequately before you
checked."

"And you passed the blood test, how?"

"Natalie used Schanke's blood for the test," he answered with a flinch.
"His idea, not mine, but I didn't stop him."

Putting the papers back down, Schmidt asked, "This morning when I asked
if you would reveal what you were, you said you would.  When were you
planning to do this?  Were you even planning it?"

"I was trying to decide on the timing.  After the meeting, but before it
would be required.  I hadn't had any specific plan on how to do it."

"I think I know the answer to this," Schmidt started, pausing and
watching the other man stiffen, "but why didn't you correct the
assumption we had made about you, or allow Dr. Lambert to use your own
blood for the test and be revealed that way?"

"At first I didn't exactly know what was happening.  Then I didn't so I
could continue--"

"Passing information," Schmidt stated, then nodded.  "Okay, and now I
know you might not answer this, but after this morning, I don't think it
would be appropriate for LaCroix to remain the representative here in
Toronto.  Would you--"

"Yes," he replied, cutting his questioner off.  "I'll do it."

"Are you certain?  It's okay if you want a few hours or even a couple of
days to decide."

"I'm certain," he repeated.  "If LaCroix hadn't--if no one else was
willing, or suitable, I would have revealed what I was and volunteered
myself."

Schmidt nodded.  "Remain here.  I will return shortly."

Nick didn't move when the mortal stood and left the room.  He knew
Schmidt was getting Cohen, and at that, he started to inwardly panic.
For whatever reason, having Cohen know what he was bothered him more
than Schmidt...even though if he had willingly revealed what he was, it
would have probably been to Cohen, not Schmidt.

Before his thoughts could wander, the mortal returned, Cohen immediately
behind him as expected.  He locked his gaze with his captain once
Schmidt shut the door.

"You have something you wanted to tell me?"

He went to answer, but he found he wasn't sure what to say and his voice
failed him.  Trying again, he quickly and bluntly stated, "Captain, I'm
one of them.  I'm a vampire."

"Is this some--" Cohen started, then stopped speaking when her detective
abruptly stood and started for the other side of the room.

Nick knew where the special lights that had been used for testing were
kept, and he retrieved one.  Walking back to Schmidt and Cohen, he
pushed the left sleeve of his jacket and shirt up as far as they would
go.  Then he turned the light on and held it over the skin on the
underside of his wrist until the skin there first reddened then burned,
his skin steaming and cracking.  Turning the light off, he held his arm
up so that it was easier for Cohen to see.  "I'm one of them."

Cohen winced at the burn and the acrid smell of burnt flesh, but there
was no denying he was telling the truth.  Her detective was a vampire.
That both made complete sense, yet sounded like absolute nonsense to
her.  True, he fit the vague description, but she could still barely
believe it...and wouldn't have without the demonstration.

She turned toward Schmidt.  "How did--"

"Knight told me this morning."

Nick tried not to fidget.  Schmidt's answer was a lie--not an outright
lie, as technically he had told Schmidt this morning, although it hadn't
been voluntary, which was how it would sound to Cohen.

"Is that true?"

Nick nodded.  "Yes."

"I'll have to talk to you later," Cohen said, clearly thinking for a
moment, then she continued, "But for now return to your desk and
continue to work as usual.  I believe I need to have a chat with Mr.
Schmidt--and others--on how to deal with this."

Nick didn't reply and instead simply left, returning to his desk.
Sitting down, he didn't feel remotely relaxed.  In fact, he felt worse
now than before he came in.  He was stuck waiting to see what would
happen to him.  He also couldn't help but wonder what LaCroix' reaction
would be once he recovered--beyond being not remotely pleased about any
of it.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (020/111)

Half an hour later, Schanke arrived and had immediately tried asking
Nick questions.  For every single one, Nick had shook his head and
merely told his partner not to lie whenever he was questioned.

Cohen had left the conference room shortly before Schanke had come in,
and after giving him a long stare, she had gone into her office and shut
the door and blinds.

Only when Natalie had come in another hour later did Cohen come out, and
then she had taken Natalie back to the conference room herself.  Nick
had barely had time to tell her not to lie about anything.  Then, after
Natalie, Schanke had been called back.

Natalie had remained for a few minutes, merely standing behind Nick with
her hands on his shoulders, trying to help him relax, before he insisted
she head to the morgue.  Cohen had told her to, and she did have an
autopsy to perform.

After Natalie had left, Nick had merely dawdled most of the rest of the
night.  Once again he didn't get much work done.  He was far too worried
about his interview with Cohen and its possible consequences.  He had a
feeling the proposed law about not being able to fire a vampire from a
job simply for being a vampire didn't apply to him since he was a police
detective.  The authorities wouldn't overlook the fact that he had had
ample opportunity to correct the assumption that he was a regular human,
that he had passed information to LaCroix and Janette, and that he had
in general lied throughout this whole ordeal.

At the end of his shift, Cohen had him return to the conference room
rather than go home.  He was a bit nervous at having to stay so late,
but he'd rather get this over with now than have to wait until the
following night.  Waiting in the same chair he had sat in when Schmidt
had talked to him before his shift, Nick laced his hands together and
leaned forward so that his lips touched where his index fingers crossed.

He couldn't help but be worried, but when he heard footsteps approach
outside the door and the door handle shift, he immediately tried to
relax.  He put his hands on the arms of the chair, and sat up, leaning
back into the chair.

Cohen entered and sat in the chair Schmidt had occupied earlier.  She
seemed slightly nervous, although it probably wouldn't have been
noticeable to a mortal.  Surprisingly Schmidt also entered, but instead
of sitting next to Cohen, he went to the other end of the table.
Schmidt was apparently there to observe rather than participate.

"Before I ask anything, Knight, I want to know if you want to remain in
your job.  If you don't, we need not continue."

"I wish to stay," he answered without hesitation.

"Good.  Before we begin, you should know that this will probably take
the remainder of the night.  If you wish to wait--"

"No, Captain.  I'll be fine; I'd prefer to proceed now."

"All right."  She paused, took a deep breath, and jumped right in,
asking, "First, was your job choice just a whim?  Something you thought
you'd try, to pass the time?"

"No," he replied, wondering why she had asked him that.  "It's a
profession I've had before."

"Have you received actual training anywhere?  Specifically at a police
or other law enforcement academy."

Now getting the second half of the question, he understood and relaxed
somewhat.  "Yes."

"Where and when?"

"Chicago, 1950."  With his answer he heard a pen going behind him.
Schmidt was also apparently there to take notes.

"What name did you use?"

"The same as now.  Nicholas Knight."

"We'll have to verify that," Cohen said sternly.  Then, pursing her
lips, she asked, "Do you know who murdered Mary Edwards?"

"No."  He shook his head.  He hadn't been prepared at all for that
question, but even Janette and LaCroix hadn't had any ideas about who
had done it.  Or if they did, they hadn't told him.

"Are you lying to cover for anyone?"

Nick stiffened, taking in a quick, sharp breath.  "No," he answered, a
touch of anger flitting into the word.  Calming himself, he explained,
"I've made enquiries, but I've heard nothing about who did it or if
they've already been punished for what they did."

"Punished by whom?" Cohen immediately asked, leaning slightly forward.

His panic rose at the slip; he knew he'd have to say something.  "We
have our own laws and law enforcement of sorts.  It is--or
was--primarily concerned with dealing with those who drew attention to
our existence.  I don't know how the present situation has affected
that."

"Schmidt, did you know anything about this?" Cohen asked, turning toward
him.

"No.  No, nothing."

"What would their punishment be?" she demanded, turning back to Nick.

"Unless the situation could somehow be remedied, the punishment is
death."

At the last word, Cohen tensed.  Was that how vampires had stayed hidden
for so long?  Killing all who slipped up in any way?  Then how had they
been discovered now?

Shaking her thoughts away, Cohen resumed her interrogation, "Now, the
following questions may be more personal.  Your answers will not leave
the room, except perhaps--"

"What about the day shift commander?  Will my answers be passed to him?"
Nick asked, aware he would certainly have to be informed about what he
was.

"Unless you mention something of concern to me, your specific answers
won't leave this room, and then likely not to him."

Nick looked away and nodded.

"How old are you?"

Almost immediately Nick snapped his attention back on Cohen.  He had a
feeling he wasn't going to like these questions.  "Do I have to be
exact?"

"How about a range?" Schmidt suggested.  Getting a nod from Cohen, he
started listing off ranges, pausing slightly after each, "Under a
hundred?  Over a hundred but under two-fifty?  Two-fifty and five
hundred?  Five hundred and a thousand?  A thousand and--"

"Between five hundred and a thousand," Nick answered, thankful Schmidt
hadn't split the range at seven hundred and fifty.  He preferred the
wide range, even if it made the other two slightly nervous knowing he
was at least five hundred years old...and possibly as much as a
thousand.

"Mr. Schmidt, give Knight a sheet of paper and a pen."

Nick again stiffened.  He didn't want anything on paper, but the
requested items were set in front of him in seconds.  He doubted he had
a choice if he wished to remain in his job.

"Previous names you've used."

"How far back?"

"*All* previous names you have used," she repeated.

Nick stiffened at that, but pulled the paper nearer.  He wrote down as
many as he remembered--mainly the half dozen or so names he had used
more than once.  He hated including his mortal name, but he suspected if
he didn't, it would somehow be discovered, so he wrote it somewhere in
the middle.  He moved to hand the paper to Cohen, but she gestured to
Schmidt, who took it.

"Have you ever made anyone into a vampire?" Cohen asked, her tone
slightly more gentle.

"Yes," he said, having an idea what the next question was.

"The year and name of the last person you...changed."

"About two years ago," Nick started, and he watched Cohen tense.
"Richard...Lambert."  He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Cohen's
expression.  He heard Schmidt gasp after he said the last name.  Before
either could ask, he clarified, "Natalie's brother."

Cohen, however, remained calm, despite her surprise.  "Richard Lambert
died of a gunshot wound."

"I know, and Natalie asked me to--" Nick nearly said 'save his life' but
in the end he hadn't managed that.  After a pause he finished, "Make him
like me."

"But he died," she again said.  "I went to his funeral, saw his grieving
wife and child.  Where is he now?"

"Deceased," Nick answered, watching Cohen's confusion grow.  Again he
found himself needing to explain.  "As a vampire he couldn't control--
He used what he was to kill those who were getting away with their
crimes.  Brutally.  He was drawing attention and wouldn't or couldn't
stop himself.  He was my responsibility and I had to destroy him or...or
those I mentioned before would have done it for me.  Please don't tell
Natalie you know this, and please don't tell others what he did.  He was
good, kind, and fair as a mortal.  Becoming a vampire...changed him."

"Did it change you?"

Nick looked down.  "Probably."

"Have you ever killed a human for some reason other than blood?"

"Yes," he answered, closing his eyes.

Again, Schmidt interrupted, asking, "Did you ever kill anyone before you
became a vampire?"

"Yes," he again replied.  "But it was different.  It--"

"I'm not asking these questions to judge you," Cohen interrupted.  "I
don't expect you to try justifying anything--"

"Taking another's life is never justified.  Taking the life of an enemy
soldier may be lawful, or taking the life of a murderer or rapist may
make the death seem less cold-blooded, but it is no more right than
taking the life of an innocent.  It is still a life."  Nick felt the
urge to flee and he shifted in his chair so that he was leaning off to
one side.  He really didn't like talking about those he had killed, or
why.

"Again, the question wasn't meant to judge you.  Honestly, I expected
both answers.  You have probably seen countless wars over your lifetime.
And I am also aware that bottled blood is a fairly modern convenience.
The question was meant to see if you would tell the truth, or if you
would lie to make yourself look better."

Nick relaxed somewhat.  He should have seen it and not tried explaining.
It hadn't been necessary.

"Other than here and I'm guessing early 1950's Chicago, have you served
in law enforcement elsewhere, and if so, when and where?"

"Yes."  Then, before they asked, he elaborated, "Chicago, late 1960's
and late 1980's."

"And, since you mentioned war, I'm assuming you've served in the
military in some capacity, correct?"

"Yes."

"Your most recent experience?"

"Red Cross medic in Vietnam."

"A medic?" she asked, her surprise clearly evident.  "Isn't
that...rather difficult, under the circumstances?"

Nick glanced toward Schmidt, wondering what else the other man knew
about vampires.  He and even Cohen apparently knew that vampires had
trouble being around blood--and that hadn't been on the sheet about
vampires or the news.  "It...can be at times."

"Was that your only experience in a medical role?"

"No," he said, his voice fading to a whisper.  Then, knowing he would be
asked anyway, he volunteered, "I was also a field doctor, a surgeon in
the American Civil War."

Cohen waited nearly a minute, digesting that information before stating,
"Your partner requested I allow you to stay.  Practically demanded it,
actually."  Then she paused, examining him.  "And unless I find
something from your past that concerns me, I will probably recommend
that you are allowed to do so."

"Will you tell the others?"

"I must at least inform the police commission and the 96th's day-shift
commander.  The commission will have the final say on whether you stay,
but at least until then, no others will be told."  When Nick didn't
relax, she explained, "I do plan to request that they not pass the
information on, but I cannot guarantee it won't be leaked at some
point."

At this Nick nodded and shifted back to the centre of his chair.

"Schmidt also mentioned that you have agreed to be the representative
for your kind in Toronto.  He also suggested that you be appointed the
police department's representative.  Before I agree, I have another
question for you."  She paused and watched Nick avert his eyes.  "Have
you protected any others of your kind from being identified?"

Nick considered the question.  Had he?  He could think of two things
that were borderline, and he stated, "I delayed giving Schmidt Byron
Morrell's phone records for a few hours, and I believe one vampire was
missed at the Raven."

"Missed?" Schmidt asked.  "What do you mean, missed?"

"He passed the light test; he's less sensitive to UV light than most of
us.  He wasn't intentionally let through.  Natalie and Schanke did the
test."  Nick kept his gaze firmly on Cohen, hoping there weren't any
more questions for him.

Cohen stood, keeping her eyes on Nick.  "You may leave.  But, again, I
may have further questions for you.  You will not be involved in any way
regarding the investigation or lack thereof of Beranger's death--the FBI
has taken that over, regardless, and from what I've seen, that's mostly
been a formality.  Other than that, you will perform your job as usual
unless notified otherwise."

Nick nodded and Cohen headed to the door.  It swung shut behind her,
leaving him alone in the room with Schmidt.  Turning to the mortal he
asked, "Who else have you told about me?"

"No one.  I won't add you to the list or identify you to those I work
with until you have first been more widely identified here."

Standing and going to the door, Nick hesitated before leaving.  "Earlier
tonight, why did you lie?"

"What?"

"You said I told you what I was yesterday morning.  I didn't tell you.
You guessed and I confirmed."

"You didn't have to confirm what you were.  And I believe you would have
told me soon anyway, correct?  Or perhaps your captain?"

"Yes," Nick answered, nodded, then pulled the door open and left.  He
took a few seconds to grab his coat, then, taking the Caddy's keys, he
headed for his car and home.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (021/111)

Nick drove straight home after the interview.  Natalie's shift had
already ended, and while he had the urge to drive aimlessly until
sunrise, he did not wish to leave her alone with LaCroix, even though
Janette was probably still there.  When the elevator came to a halt, his
thoughts locked on Natalie's rapid heartbeat on the other side of the
door.  Sliding it open, he avoided meeting her gaze while he entered and
walked past her.

"I take it Cohen talked to you?"

"Yeah."

"And?" she asked curiously.  "Are you still--"

"For now, yes.  I believe she is having Schmidt try to corroborate my
past.  Before you came in, he asked if I'd be the representative.  I
said I would."  Seeing her ready to ask something else, he said, "How is
LaCroix?"

"Ah, Janette thinks he might wake soon, but I'm not sure how much more
the wounds have healed."

Nick draped his coat over a chair at the kitchen table and dropped his
keys on the table.  "Stay down here," he said, then flew up to the top
of the stairs before she could protest.  Walking into his room he found
LaCroix lying on his back, his eyes shut tight and head off to one side.
Janette was lying on the bed next to him on her side, propped up on her
right arm.  "Janette?"

"He--I think he's having a nightmare, or remembering something bad that
happened to him.  This is quite unlike him."

"He's reliving some old memories, I think.  Some very old memories," he
whispered, approaching.  "You should leave before the sun rises."

"I could stay."

"No, it's fine."

"Nicolas..."

"Go home, Janette," he ordered, his voice rising somewhat, his tone
final.

Janette stiffened, sat up, then stood and walked over to her brother.
When he looked away from her, she reached out and guided his face back
toward hers.  She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"Call if you need me to stay again tonight."

Nick nodded, but turned away the instant she released his chin.  He
stood there in the middle of the room until he was sure she had left.
Next, he moved toward the bed and took Janette's place next to LaCroix
so that he could watch his injured house-guest.  Almost immediately, he
fell asleep.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

After Nick had gone upstairs and Janette had left moments later, Natalie
had found herself sitting on the couch waiting to see if he was coming
back down.  When he didn't, she went upstairs to find him asleep, still
in his work clothes.  LaCroix was still in Nick's satin pyjamas, which
Janette had dressed him in earlier that night before she left for
work--without her help.

Natalie decided to eat something for breakfast, once again defaulting to
eggs and toast for something simple.  But after eating she had found it
hard to relax.  She wanted to ask Nick more about his conversation with
Cohen--and Schmidt, for that matter.  Eventually she had turned on the
television; as had become the norm recently, it was tuned to a news
channel.  Little of what was shown was new, just more mention of
scattered, minor protests either for or against vampires.  So far, news
of the previous morning's incident there in Toronto hadn't gotten out.
Not yet, anyway.

She mindlessly watched the news for nearly an hour before she nearly
nodded off.  Then she decided she would at least check on Nick once
more.  Upon entering his room, she noticed he was now lying on his back,
rather than his side, but LaCroix had also shifted.  Nick's sire was now
lying half atop him, his head resting on one shoulder and his hand
gripping him possessively.  Nick's head was turned toward LaCroix, but
the most shocking thing of all were LaCroix' icy blue, nearly colourless
eyes gazing at her.

Natalie nearly turned and left, but after remaining in place for nearly
a minute, she forced herself to approach.  She knew Nick would want to
know that LaCroix was awake.  But knowing that didn't make her feel much
better as those cold, almost frightened eyes followed her while she
stepped ever closer.

"Nick?" she called, reaching down for his wrist, gently turning his arm
and putting pressure on his bare skin.  "Nick," she said louder and
sharply, and that did the trick.  Abruptly his eyes opened and his head
turned toward her.  "He's awake."

At this, Nick glanced down and became aware of LaCroix' grip.  He pried
the other man's hand free, pushed his sire away, and sat up.  "LaCroix?"
he asked as the elder vampire's gaze appeared to be on Natalie, rather
than himself.  Once LaCroix changed his focus, Nick shifted and tried to
help him sit up.

It had been harder than he had expected, and even once LaCroix was
upright, he still clung to one of his shoulders for support.  Turning
back to Natalie, he said, "Nat, bring a bottle--"  His sentence was cut
short and he nearly cried out when fangs sliced into his neck from
behind.

Upon seeing the clear pain on Nick's features from LaCroix' unexpected
strike, Natalie had initially taken a step forward.  She watched him try
to pull LaCroix' arms away and free himself, but to no avail.  She could
do nothing as he became ever weaker, finally becoming so weak that he
lost consciousness.  Only then did LaCroix stop taking Nick's blood.
Now all Natalie could see was confusion on LaCroix' features as he
gently lowered Nick to the bed and wiped the blood from his lips onto
his sleeve.

LaCroix then backed away and got out of the bed, only to nearly lose his
balance and fall.  He managed to get to the wall and, using it for
support, he slowly made his way to the door, his gaze shifting between
Nick and Natalie.  He stumbled again as he staggered to the doorway,
made his way to the railing, and finally was out of sight.

Natalie shifted her attention to Nick, who by now had opened his eyes,
but stared blankly forward.  "Nick?  Are you okay?"

"I--I'll be fine," he managed and closed his eyes.  "Just--I just need
to rest here for a moment."

She abruptly turned upon hearing an awkward thud outside the room.
LaCroix.  Turning back to Nick, she saw him try but fail to sit up.
Pushing him back down, she asked, "Is he safe to be around right now?"

"I--I think he should be for a few minutes."

She nodded and moved to leave, but feeling him lightly grab her wrist,
his fingers immediately falling away, she looked back at him.

"Natalie...be careful."

Again she nodded and left the room.  She spotted LaCroix not even
halfway down the stairs sitting on the steps, leaning up against the
railing, one hand still gripping the rail.  He seemed drained of energy
and appeared to be fighting to stay awake.

She hurried to the top of the stairs, but then slowed, approaching him
cautiously.  Once she was a couple of steps below him, she turned to
face him, only to find his faintly shining eyes locked on her.  She
tentatively held her arm out as an offer of support, only for him to
flash his fangs and hiss at her.  Holding her ground, she held her arm
out again, her other hand gripping the rail not far ahead of where
LaCroix' hand still clung to it.  "Let me help you."  When he remained
silent and ignored her offer, she added, "Either let me help you or wait
for Nick, and we both know he won't give you a choice."

At that, LaCroix turned away and closed his eyes.  "Fine," he breathed.
Then, turning back, he gripped the mortal's arm, and, with the added
support, he managed to stand and again seize the railing with both
hands.  He had expected the mortal to let go now that he was on his
feet, and was surprised to find her still gripping his arm.  He then
tried to pull his hand away, but felt himself become unsteady and merely
glared at her.  "Release me."

She did so and moved a few steps down.  He was, after all, once again
standing.  And to be honest, both when he took her arm and when she
touched his wrist, his skin had been so icy she didn't particularly want
to touch it.  He was colder than even Nick had been that night she met
him.

After a pause, LaCroix carefully started down the steps, one at a time.
Natalie continued down, always staying out of his reach but close enough
that she could step forward if he slipped.  He didn't, but when he
reached the bottom of the stairs--and the end of the railing--he
abruptly stopped.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked, then watched him focus on the
railing while he debated his answer.  "LaCroix?"

As she said his name, he turned toward the sofa, but moved no further.

"Take my arm again," she said, holding her right arm out next to her.
She almost regretted it when he moved one hand first to her arm, then
her shoulder, and finally took the offered arm with his other hand.  As
she led the way toward the sofa, she felt his knee bump into her when he
lost his balance, suddenly shifting even more of his weight onto her
right side.  She was amazed he had gotten as far as he had before
falling, due to how unsteady he was.

Once they reached the end of the sofa, Natalie staggered as LaCroix
moved his hand from one of her shoulders to the other, then she felt him
lean over her.  When she felt his breath against her ear, initially she
thought he was going to tell her something.  Then his lips touched the
side of her face, and next her chin.  She tried not to panic, even
though she knew it was because he was still hungry.  He still needed
more blood, and here she stood, a walking container of it, tantalisingly
close.  She closed her eyes upon feeling the cold skin of his face
against her neck and heard him take in a slow deep breath.  Then,
abruptly, he released her.  She felt an awkward shove as he shifted his
weight away from her and to the arm of the sofa.

Natalie only gave LaCroix a glance to make sure he managed to sit down
and hadn't fallen short of the sofa before she took several steps away.
What he had done reminded her of a nightmare in which he had grabbed her
from behind and planned to bite her, perhaps even did bite her.  At
least in the dream.

Shoving her thoughts away, she went to the kitchen, grabbed a glass and
a nearly full bottle of blood.  Returning to the sofa, she sat slightly
away from LaCroix, set the glass down, removed the thankfully barely
tightened cork, and filled the glass full.  Without recorking the
bottle, she set the items on the table and picked up the glass, holding
it out for him.

Initially he examined it as though it were poison or some other vile
substance.  Eventually he took it and slowly brought it to his lips, but
after a sip, he drank it quickly.  He cringed a little when he lowered
the glass.

Natalie immediately refilled it, apparently surprising him with the
reaction when he jerked a little right when she started.  He seemed to
want to say something, but once again he looked away from her.
Standing, the bottle still in her hand, she told him, "Either Nick or I
will be down in a few minutes."  She waited a moment for an
acknowledgement, but he didn't move or speak at all.

Heading back upstairs, the bottle of blood still in her hand, she slowed
at the door.  It didn't appear that Nick had moved at all and, for a
moment, she thought he had either passed out or fallen back asleep
because his eyes were closed again.  Once she approached, she saw him
open his eyes and turn to look at her.  He appeared dazed, then she saw
his eyes glint gold from the faint light from below filtering in.  They
returned to blue quickly, but it reminded her of LaCroix hissing at her
only moments before.

She held up the bottle and tried to give him a faint smile, but she
didn't think it worked.  Kneeling at the edge of the bed, she held it up
in front of her and watched him roll slightly onto his side and take it.
He immediately brought the bottle to his lips and rolled back to drink
from it.  She watched him do this twice more, then he handed it back to
her.  Momentarily he sat up, swinging his legs slowly off the bed.

This time Natalie gave him another smile and, when he returned it, she
got up, using the bed and Nick's thigh to aid her, giving the latter a
little squeeze as she let go.  When she then left the room, the nearly
empty bottle in her hands, she glanced back to find him following.  Upon
reaching the bottom of the stairs, she held the bottle out, which he
took and walked over to the sofa.  She stayed back, knowing LaCroix
really didn't like her very much, despite that he had allowed her to
help him.  She wouldn't be surprised to learn that actually made him
like her even less.

Nick went to sit next to LaCroix, and much as Natalie had done before
going upstairs, he filled the once again empty glass with the remainder
of the bottle.  "You should return to bed and rest," he said, not
looking at his sire.

"No."

"Please, LaCroix, it--"

"No.  I have no intention of--"  He abruptly stopped and turned to
Natalie, who was approaching with a second glass and another bottle of
blood.

Natalie focused on Nick when LaCroix' gaze locked on her and followed
her every step.  Handing the empty glass and bottle to Nick, she turned
quickly away and put some distance between them and herself.

Nick set the first, empty bottle down before taking the fresh bottle.
Filling the clean glass, he took a sip from it.  Turning toward LaCroix,
he asked, "What do you remember?"

"Arriving for the meeting.  Pointless questions.  The mortal moved to
pull some papers out of his jacket--or that's what I was expecting--but
instead--"  LaCroix' face contorted in anger, his eyes changing to a
bright gold.  "I had no time to flee.  He was too close.  He fired and I
tasted his foul blood; nothing more."  His eyes burned brighter,
flashing fire-red.  He shut his eyes tight, cringing as he tried to
regain control of his emotions.  Once he had, he turned to his son, the
anger gone from his eyes.  "Did the mortal survive?"

"No."

LaCroix closed his eyes again, smiling.  "Good," he breathed.

"You don't remember anything else?  Nothing after that?" Nick
tentatively prodded.

"Just...dreams."

"Nothing else?  How you got here?  The bullets being removed?"

LaCroix' eyes narrowed.  "No.  How long was I unconscious?"

"A little more than a day."  Averting his eyes, he whispered, "Are you
all right, LaCroix?"

LaCroix stalled, taking first one sip from his glass, and then another.
Finally he replied, "Of course I am."

"I know this is affecting you."

"It is not--"

"Yesterday morning you were....hallucinating," Nick said, setting his
nearly full glass on the table.   "You were incoherently muttering about
being burnt.  And when I came home this morning, you weren't exactly
sleeping soundly."

LaCroix downed the rest of his glass, set it on the end table, then
attempted to get up.  If not for his son pulling him back down, he
probably would have managed it, but now the younger man was pushing his
shoulder back against the sofa's cushions and showing no sign of
releasing him.  He didn't have the strength to either slip out of the
pressure, or manage standing again.

"You nearly died that day," Nick whispered.

"What?" he said, turning sharply toward his son.

"The day you were brought across."

At this, LaCroix' attention turned to the mortal, who was standing
nearby watching them, likely listening.  When she looked away, he turned
back to his son and leaned forward a little.  "Did you tell her what--"

"Yes," he answered through clenched teeth.  Then, in a whisper he added,
"But not everything.  You were muttering frantically in Latin, but she
and Schanke recognised one word--Vesuvius.  I had to say something."

"What did you tell them?" he demanded, pulling his son closer.

"That you were there the day the mountain buried Pompeii."  Wincing, he
added, "And that it was the day you were brought across.  But nothing
more."

LaCroix' hands tightened around his son's neck as he pulled the other
man even closer, until their foreheads nearly touched.  He clenched his
eyes closed, feeling dizzy, then demanded, "Nothing?"

"Nothing," Nick repeated.

"Nick didn't say anything else," Natalie told LaCroix, which, if nothing
else, got him to release Nick.  Now with LaCroix' borderline murderous
gaze on her, she initially hesitated, but she continued, "He said he
didn't know anything beyond that, and he wouldn't translate anything
else you were saying--said it was nonsense."

LaCroix' focus shifted away from the mortal.

"Is what Nick said true?  Did you nearly die that day?"

Glancing at her, LaCroix eventually answered, "Yes," before again
averting his gaze.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Nick asked.  "Does Janette know?"

"Janette knows nothing more than you did.  Less now."

"LaCroix, why--"

"Because even I do not remember exactly what happened!" LaCroix yelled.
He closed his eyes, his tiredness and pain returning.  "It was all as
infernally confusing as it is now," he continued.  "I remember the
initial moments when the mountain released its fury on the city.  I
remember being burnt by sunlight as I fled.  And I remember waking again
two days later.  Nothing more.  Nothing in between.
Only...vague...dreams."

Nick was stunned.  He never knew LaCroix had nearly been killed that
day, let alone that he didn't remember exactly what had happened.  He
himself had never been this severely injured.   But if his sire had lost
memories then, and some now...  "Three years ago, when I--"  He stopped,
not wanting to finish that thought, then continued, "I know Janette has
asked you what happened, how you escaped and recovered and why you
hadn't returned to Toronto sooner.  Did you--"

LaCroix closed his eyes, whispering, "Yes," before his son could ask too
explicitly.  He opened his eyes, only to again close them almost in an
instant.

Nick reached for the empty glass, refilled it from the fresh bottle,
then held it out.  "Here."  Once LaCroix had taken the glass and took a
sip from it, he added, "Now let Natalie see your wounds."

LaCroix took a larger sip and said, "No."

"Either allow it or I'll force you to comply."

"You will force me to do nothing, Nicholas!"

"Then simply allow it."   Nick turned to Natalie, who had turned at the
sound of her name, but hadn't approached.  "Natalie, check his wounds.
See if they've fully healed or not."

She hesitated.  LaCroix clearly had no intention of allowing this...but
she had already seen that Nick was still presently stronger than the
other man, and she started forward.  Stopping just short of touching
him, she looked to Nick before doing anything further.  When he nodded,
she reached forward toward the buttons on the pyjama top LaCroix was
wearing.  He tensed and turned his head to the side, at which she
paused.  When he did no more, she undid the top button and pushed the
fabric to the side.  Directly over his heart still remained four scars.
They did appear much better than before, at least.

LaCroix pushed the mortal's hand away, redoing the button.  "Your
verdict, Doctor?"

"Not healed, but the wounds look better than before."

"Satisfied?" LaCroix asked, turning to his son.

"No.  You should--"

"I will remain here," LaCroix replied, leaning back and staring forward,
quickly drinking what remained in his glass and again setting it on the
end table.

"I was going to say 'rest and relax'.  Not 'sleep'."  Nick also sat
back, his shoulder hitting against that of the other man.  "I'll
stay...if that's all right?"

"As you wish," LaCroix whispered, then leaned his head back and closed
his eyes.

"Nat?  I'm going to stay down here, at least for now.  If either of us
comes up, I'll wake you, okay?"

Natalie merely nodded.  She wished she could do something, help in some
way, but she knew there was nothing she could do.  LaCroix still needed
to heal, and she suspected Nick's problems were only starting.  Both of
them were simply too stressed.  The weariness she had seen in Nick for
nearly the past month she now also saw firmly rooted in LaCroix.  She
had a feeling both were hiding just how much they were being affected,
not only from her, but from each other as well.

Before heading upstairs, Natalie cleaned up her dishes from breakfast,
and also put away Nick's coat and keys.  Taking a glance at the two
before going up the stairs, she found their heads leaning against each
other.  They had apparently fallen asleep.  Nick lightly smiled, despite
being unconscious, but LaCroix appeared to be in pain.

Not wanting to bother them, she left the opened bottle and both of their
glasses, Nick's still partly full, where they had been set.  She almost
turned the television off, but didn't in case it was somehow helping
them tune other things out as it sometimes did for her.

She cautiously walked to and up the stairs, eventually going into the
bedroom and closing the door.  While she didn't doubt that Nick would
wake her, if LaCroix woke and somehow managed to both not alert Nick and
make it up the stairs, she'd rather possibly have the sound of the door
opening to alert her.  Assuming she slept at all.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (022/111)

That evening as Nick's alarm went off, Natalie woke alone in the
bedroom, the door still fully closed.  She had slept in her clothes from
the night before; so most likely Nick had as well.  Leaving the room,
she spotted him sitting at the kitchen table, facing the counters.
LaCroix was asleep on the sofa.  She spared a glance at the television,
which was still on, but she couldn't hear anything.  It had been put on
mute.

At the bottom of the stairs, her attention was drawn by the screen and
she walked toward it.  While she couldn't hear what was being said, the
graphics told her.  Initially she had believed it was the same channel
that she had on the previous morning, but Nick must have changed it to
one of the local channels.  Vampires in Canada now had nine more days to
identify themselves without possible future consequences.

Turning away, Natalie went up behind Nick and touched him on his
shoulders.  He leaned his head back to look up at her, and immediately
she saw the hollowness of his eyes that had bothered her so much of
late.  It had to be because of the finality of the news.  "I saw what's
on the news."

"All of it?"

"Ah," she started, confused.  She saw Nick's lips twist into an odd
smirk.  "What else was there?"

"Beranger's death and his attack on LaCroix.  They mentioned that first.
I saw it late this morning.  A few minutes ago, they mentioned it on
that channel," he said, nodding his head toward the television.  "They
asked Schmidt who the new representative was, or if it was still
LaCroix."

Natalie's worry increased.  "And?"

He stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter.  Not turning to face
Natalie, he replied, "He only confirmed that there was a new
representative, that it wasn't LaCroix, and that they wouldn't be
identified for now, because of what had happened."

"Has LaCroix--"

"No.  He hasn't heard the latest updates."

"Does he know you're, well--" she whispered.

"Do I know you are...what?" came LaCroix' harsh voice from the sofa, and
both Nick and Natalie looked to find him sitting up.  There was now no
sluggishness or cautiousness to his movements or voice.  He seemed his
usual self as he stood and steadily approached.  "Nicholas?"

Nick shut his eyes when his sire walked right up to him.

"And now what is the news reporting?" he asked, his voice softer than
before, but still nearly accusing.

"We have nine more days to identify ourselves.  And what happened here
got out; the attack on you and Beranger's death."

"And?"

"And they aren't identifying the new representative."

"*What* new representative?" he asked, his eyes flashing gold.

"Considering your involvement with Beranger's death, Schmidt said it
seemed inappropriate to have you continue in that role, so he asked me
and I accepted," Nick answered, then tried to slip away, only for the
elder man to grab his arm.  While the grip was solid, he managed to pull
out of it with ease.  "He's known what I am since shortly after you were
shot.  I left there to find you.  So did Schanke.  Schmidt overheard us
talking about the loft, so he came here, too.  Since you had broken the
lock on the door downstairs, he was able to come right up.  You were
feeding from me when he entered, so he asked if I was also a vampire."

LaCroix' anger faded somewhat, and he went to the refrigerator and
retrieved a bottle of blood.

When LaCroix didn't even bother with a glass, Nick winced.  While his
sire seemed less angry, he knew it was just building.  Trying to head it
off, he further explained, "I would have revealed what I was,
regardless.  So far, only Schmidt and Cohen know what I am.  For now,
anyway."

"For now," LaCroix repeated.  "How long until all of them know what you
are?  Not only those with whom you work, but the rest of the world?
What will you do then, Nicholas?"

"I don't know.  What do any of us know about what we will do in the
future?  Do you?  Does Janette?  Do any of the others?"  He waited for
LaCroix to respond, but he didn't.  "I know what I'm risking by doing
this."

LaCroix took another long drink from the bottle, then closed his eyes.
"Is Janette aware of your...death wish?"

Nick cringed at the last words, but he didn't want to argue, so simply
answered, "No, she doesn't know."

"Then I shall inform her of this," LaCroix said with a partial smile.

"Just don't spread it around too much."

LaCroix' smile intensified as he walked up to his son.  "Do you truly
believe I would do such a thing, Nicholas?"

"Of course you would," he answered, not backing away.  "But please
don't.  This isn't some game."

"This is very much a game.  If you can't see that--"

"LaCroix--"

"I will not...spread word of your involvement around more than it will
on its own," LaCroix replied, pushing the bottle forward into Nick's
chest.  Once his son took hold of the bottle, he released it, turned,
and flew up to the balcony, vanishing into the bedroom.

"Well, he seems back to normal," Natalie commented slightly louder than
a whisper.

"Mostly."  Nick closed his eyes and took in a slow, deep breath.  It
wasn't like LaCroix to end an argument without making his point clear.
Reopening his eyes, Nick walked over to the counter and set the bottle
of blood on it, ignoring it for now, despite his hunger.  "I need to
tell him about last night, about my conversations with Schmidt and
Cohen."  Seeing Natalie's slight disappointment, he added with a
reassuring smile, "Don't worry.  I'll tell you, too.  But first I also
want to tell LaCroix more about the previous morning."

With the last, Natalie watched Nick start to zone off and slowly head
for the stairs without another word or glance at her.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Who is it?"

"Who is the representative?"

"How did they pick a replacement so fast?"

Schmidt winced at the questions when they sat down for another meeting.
It had been bad enough when the reporters had harassed him with
questions when he would have rather been sleeping, but at least he had
been able to easily refuse their answers.  Avoiding Nick's gaze, he
repeated what he had told the reporters, "Their identity is being kept
secret.  The only people who know at the moment are Captain Cohen,
Detective Knight, and myself."

Nick felt the other detectives' gazes shoot to him, probably wondering
what made him so deserving of this privileged information.  It also
wasn't entirely true--Schanke knew, and, of course, Natalie also knew.
In addition, Natalie knew everything that Schmidt and Cohen had asked
him, including telling them about bringing her brother across.  He had
almost left that out, but he wanted her to hear it from him rather than
one of the others.  Natalie wasn't there, nor was Cohen.  Listening to
the protests from the others, he wished Natalie had been invited.

"Why him?" DuBois said, nodding in Nick's direction.  "Why does *he* get
to know?"

"Because he and his partner are the only ones of us who have been
allowed to enter the Raven," Schmidt finally answered, this part true.
Then, lying, he continued, "When LaCroix flew off, I sent them to try
and find out where he was and how seriously he had been injured."

"So why not tell the rest of us?" Briggs asked.

"Is it Janette?" his partner asked.

"No, it is not Janette," Schmidt answered.  "And, again, at least for
now that individual is not to be identified, and the easiest way to
ensure that is to tell as few people as possible.  Detective Schanke
will also be told; it's not only Knight who will know."

"What about LaCroix?" Schanke asked.  "Last we saw, he disappeared after
that jackass Beranger shot him point blank umpteen times."

Nick was thankful for the change of subject, but wished it would change
yet again.

Schmidt looked to the detective, a bit surprised at the question,
considering that Schanke probably knew more about what had happened to
LaCroix than he himself did.  "It is my understanding that he will
recover."

"I think he means does he know about the change?" Flanagan asked.

"Yes," Nick answered.  "He knows."

"And how do you know that?" Briggs demanded.

"Because he's spoken to LaCroix," Schmidt stated.

"And not had his head ripped off?" the detective again asked, this time
sarcastically.  "I might not have been there, but I heard what happened
to Beranger."

"As does most of the world by now," Schmidt reminded them.

"And I doubt Knight shot him first," Flanagan said, sending a glare at
his partner.  "Or baited him or accused him of cold-blooded murder.
LaCroix killed Beranger in self-defence."

"Yes, yes.  Now, for the reason I arranged for this meeting," Schmidt
said, effectively putting a halt to further protests, comments, and
questions about the previous discussion.  "Obviously you've all either
watched the news at home or here," the last he said to Briggs and
Flanagan.  Keeping his attention on the two, Schmidt continued, "You two
may either end up switching to nights or coming in late, depending on
how many vampires here haven't yet identified themselves but intend to.
In the few other countries that have already set a deadline, there was a
sharp upsurge after that announcement, and we expect that to happen here
as well."

"But what about our other cases?" Briggs asked.

"This shouldn't affect your cases.  At worst, it might change the time
you come in.  You will be notified if that is necessary.  Don't worry
about it until then.  It very well might not even do that.  If you would
prefer, I can ask Dr. Lambert to assist instead."

At that, Briggs turned away and leaned back in his chair.

"That's all for now."  As the detectives started to leave, Schmidt
added, "Except for you two, Knight and Schanke."

Nick froze near the door and moved out of the way.  Once everyone but
his partner had left, Nick shut the door.

"Knight, we have been informed that you are not to come into the
precinct when either the sun is still up or day shift is still here."
Schmidt shook his head.  "Cohen told McIntyre and the Commissioner about
you earlier.  And McIntyre doesn't want you here during the day unless
absolutely necessary."

Schanke turned toward Nick.  McIntyre was the day shift commander.  From
experience, he could see that his partner was not at all thrilled about
the new restriction.  "That's not too bad, is it?" he suggested.  Then,
jokingly, he added, "After all, I know those day shift guys just *love*
you."

"Yeah, right," Nick replied, then shut his eyes.  "Do they know?"

"No.  McIntyre agreed not to say anything as long as you don't come in
on his time.  Cohen isn't too thrilled with McIntyre's condition, but it
gives you a choice whether or not you want to be more widely known.  Not
that I would call it much of a choice."

"Has Cohen--" he stopped abruptly, not wanting to tell Schanke he was
still somewhat on probation.

"No.  I haven't had time to verify anything yet, nor has Cohen received
your records from Chicago yet.  And she will be the one to tell you
whether or not everything checks out."

"Checks out?" Schanke asked, glancing between the two.

"Cohen had some questions for me.  It should be fine, unless she has an
issue with something from my time in Chicago," Nick said somewhat
vaguely.

"Time in--"

"I'll explain later," he said, glancing to Schmidt.  He didn't
particularly want to spell out what had happened.  Or for Schmidt to
provide any explanations to Cohen.  He wanted Cohen to make her own
decision whether or not he should remain.  "Is there anything else?" he
asked, turning to Schmidt.

"I would like to know if you have actually told LaCroix you volunteered
to replace him."

"We've talked about it," Nick said, turning away.

"And his opinion on it?"  When the detective didn't answer, Schmidt
continued, "Look, I don't know what he's like or how willingly he did
this in the first place...but I have a feeling he's not thrilled about
you doing this, from what you said, because he's your--" Schmidt
abruptly stopped, his attention shifting to Knight's partner.

Noticing, Nick said, "Schanke already knows he's the one who brought me
across.  And, yes, LaCroix only volunteered because he knew if he
didn't, I would have.  He didn't want that, so no, he's not thrilled."

"But?"

"But--it doesn't matter."  He reached for the door.  "Is that all?"

Schmidt nodded, then Nick immediately left the room.

Once back at their desks, Schanke leaned forward and whispered, "What
might Cohen have an issue with from Chicago?"

Nick closed his eyes.  "I was an idiot and got my partner shot."

At that, Schanke tensed.

"I thought because of--I talked my way into the job the first time I was
a cop.  I didn't think I needed any formal training," Nick whispered.

"So you never--"

"After what happened, I did things the right way.  I went to the
academy.  I didn't want my ignorance to get someone killed."

"So it should be okay, right?  You're not going to get the sack; you
fixed it...or did you just vanish or something, start over somewhere
else?"

"I stayed.  But it was still a mistake, Schanke, and not a little one.
And if you don't want to be--"

"It's not going to change what I told Cohen.  Besides, you said 'shot',
not 'killed'...right?"

"Yes, and...  Can we stop talking about this here?" Nick asked.  He
didn't feel comfortable talking about his past--particularly parts that
had to do with what he was--out in the middle of the bullpen.

Schanke nodded.  "But--"

Nick shut his eyes tight, not wanting to hear whatever Schanke might
ask.

"--thanks for telling me."

He looked up, a bit surprised at the comment, but Schanke had already
started shuffling the papers on his desk.  He could hear his partner's
heart beating faster than normal, as it usually did when he couldn't
find something.  Trying to focus on work, Nick asked what Schanke
couldn't find, and then found the form half completed on his desk.
Lately he had been doing quite a bit of their paperwork, simply so he
would have less time to think, which was one thing he knew Schanke
didn't mind one bit.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (023/111)

Three evenings later, about the only thing new was that about three
dozen vampires had come in to identify themselves.  And LaCroix had
suddenly switched to sleeping on the sofa, rather than in the bedroom.
The news about what had happened did increase mortals' dislike for the
Raven, but no one had been confronted or attacked over it.  Not until
tonight, anyway.

Nick had been called late that afternoon.  Schmidt had asked for him and
Natalie to immediately meet him at a given address.  Nick had ignored
Natalie's insistence that she could go on ahead and he could come once
the sun had set, and instead rode in Natalie's car, once again wearing
his hat, sunglasses, and gloves, in addition to his heavier trenchcoat.

Arriving at an office building, they found very few others there--two
uniformed officers were down on the street.  Upon entering the building,
they found a very nervous Schanke waiting for them.

"Schanke?  What is it?"

"It's...well, that's kind of why we're here instead of Briggs and
Flanagan, I think; we, as in...er, *you*," Schanke said and started
toward a set of stairs.  "Come on.  Cohen and Schmidt are waiting on the
roof."

Nick froze at the stairwell door.  He had a bad feeling about this.
Seeing Natalie turn to him, he started up the steps.

"Someone came up in the afternoon for a smoke break and called it in.
We got it, 'cause it's a bit weird...although, Knight, I think I've seen
something like this before...  Or sort of.  This is a bit different..."

They reached the top of the fourth flight of stairs and the door to the
roof, where Nick hung back while Schanke opened the door.  It wasn't yet
sunset, but he was pleased to find the roof in shade, thanks to the
building connected to the one they were in--it had an extra floor on it,
and a wall extended up along the west edge of the roof.  Cohen and
Schmidt were about halfway along this wall, and he approached, slightly
outpacing Schanke and Natalie.

When Schmidt stepped to the side, Nick froze.  There along the wall was
a pile of singed bits of fabric, ashes, and a thick chain connected to
handcuffs that zigzagged for a little over a metre before wrapping
around a metal ladder.

"Is this...what I think it is?" Schmidt asked.

Nick stepped forward, pulling his sunglasses and gloves off as he knelt
down.  Among the ashes, he found a burnt piece of wood shorter and
thicker than an arrow--a crossbow bolt.  The clothes--what was left of
them--were a woman's, but they were normal clothes any mortal might
choose to wear.  There was a gold chain with a heart-shaped pendant
nearly buried with the ash.  Nick started when he felt a hand on his
shoulders--Natalie.

"Nick?" she said, when his attention strayed back to the remains.

"This was an execution," he whispered, then stood and turned to face
away from the wall toward the east.  There were no taller buildings.  In
the morning, there would have been no shade anywhere on this roof.
Although by how the remains had fallen, he doubted the vampiress had
even been conscious when she died--or if so, only her last seconds.

"Was she a vampire?" Schmidt again asked, stepping up to Nick.

"Yes."

"Have you heard anything about, I guess...people, vampires going
missing?"

Nick turned toward Schmidt.  The mortal appeared unsure and a bit
nervous, as though he wanted to ask more questions.  "No.  And no, I
don't know who it was."

"There wasn't any identification that we could see," Cohen confirmed.

"The necklace might be usable."  Nick turned back around at the woman's
ashes and clothes.  "Is this the first time this has happened?" he said,
looking to first Schmidt, then Cohen.

"That we are aware of, yes," he answered.  "At least here in Toronto.  I
know there have been a few incidents elsewhere, but we've had relatively
few problems here."

"Until now," Nick clarified.  Turning toward Cohen and Schmidt, he said,
"The others need to know about this."

Cohen nodded.  "But not until you're done here.  Once Natalie catalogues
the necklace at the morgue, you can take it."  She turned to leave, but
turned back.  "When you go by the club, I would like someone to
accompany you.  Either your partner, Schmidt--"

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

"Perhaps," started Schmidt, "but I think I see your captain's reasoning.
You shouldn't be seen going into the Raven alone...not unless you want
to draw further suspicion to yourself."

Nick closed his eyes.  He didn't want to be more widely discovered.  He
didn't particularly want to take his partner, and it would be far too
dangerous to take Schmidt to the Raven.  "May I take Natalie?"

At this, Natalie straightened up from where she was kneeling over the
woman's ashes.

Cohen considered the request, and eventually told him, "If she agrees
with it."

"Nat?" Nick asked, turning toward Natalie.

"Ah, sure," she replied.

"Don't let him go without you," Cohen said to Natalie, then she turned
toward the roof access door and left.

For a second Nick and Schmidt stood facing each other.  Then, once
Schmidt started after Cohen, Schanke suggested, "I guess the two of us
are Natalie's helpers on this one, huh?"

"Yeah," Nick replied, then headed over to Natalie.

"Oh, Skank, while I've got the chance," she said, glancing toward
Schmidt, who had just disappeared through the access door, "What would
you say to adopting a cat?"

"A what?" Schanke asked, completely caught off guard.

"Jenny likes cats, doesn't she?" Natalie asked.

"Er, probably.  Why?"

"Well," Natalie started somewhat nervously, glancing to Nick, who had
turned his attention away from the ashes.  She hadn't said anything to
Nick about this yet, and wasn't sure what he'd say.  "I've been spending
a lot of time at Nick's, and Sydney is getting a bit bored at my
apartment.  I was wondering if Jenny would like to take care of him for
a while."

Schanke was a bit stunned by the question.  He was only even faintly
aware of the fact that Natalie had a cat.  He didn't even know what it
looked like.  "Well," he started, glancing at his partner, then back at
Natalie, "You know I gotta ask Myra first.  And Jenny.  I think she was
hoping for a dog at some point, but a cat might not be too bad..."

"So talk to them and let me know, okay?"  She started off toward the
doors to retrieve her supplies--specifically something to put the ashes
and clothes in.

"What was that about?" Schanke asked his partner.  "She serious?"

"Nat's...she's been staying at my place during the day," Nick answered
hesitantly.

"Natalie's living at your place?  You mean you two're--"

"We're friends, Schanke.  Just friends," he whispered, although even now
he felt that was somewhat a lie, and he heard Schanke mutter 'Yeah,
right,' under his breath.  He cared for Natalie more than simply as a
friend, or even a best friend.  "And yes, I think she's serious.  Sydney
isn't fond of vampires.  And LaCroix isn't fond of pets in general."

Schanke kinda froze at the last, realising that Nick had two
house-guests--two very different house-guests--then he tried to push
that thought away and asked, "So...Sydney's a vampire-detecting cat?"

Nick nearly smiled at that, shaking his head.  "Not sure about that, but
he knew right from the start I'm not...normal.  From what Natalie's told
me, he's pretty well behaved.  Normally.  He's probably been a bit
lonely lately, though."

"I guess I'll have to call Myra when we get back to the precinct."
Schanke's attention caught back on the ashes.  "Myra's probably gonna
think you're a bit...weird, though."

"Doesn't she already think I'm weird?" he asked, incredulous.

"She thinks you're some poor schmuck with a ton of weird allergies and
no life whatsoever.  Guess now I'll have to add another
allergy--cats--but at least I get to axe the no-life thing.  Can't wait
to watch her go ballistic when she finds out you're a--"  Schanke halted
when the access door opened up again.  It was only Schmidt, but he
didn't continue with his thought, instead asking, "So let you or Natalie
know, I guess, right?  About the cat?"

Nick simply nodded, his attention going back to the ashes, fabric
pieces, and other items.  Staring at them, he shut his eyes again.  He
didn't want to do this...  He shouldn't need to do this.  And he
fervently hoped this wouldn't become a regular part of his job.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

An hour and a half later, Natalie was driving Nick and herself to the
Raven.  On the way to the morgue, she had respected his apparent wish
for silence--she wasn't sure if it was her more or less offering to give
her cat away, or something to do with the crime scene--but now, nearly
to the Raven, she couldn't help but admit, "I'm not sure I'm all that
thrilled about being volunteered to go with you."

Nick turned toward the window.  The sun had set half an hour before, and
in fact it was now trying to rain.  "I shouldn't have assumed--"

"It's okay.  I just haven't been in the Raven since that night, and I
thought mortals weren't being let in."

"They're not, but it'll be fine," he said, turning to her with a faint
smile.  "I've taken Schanke in, remember?"

She tried to smile back, but failed.  Reaching the Raven, she tensed.
There were people across the street; over a dozen people were gathered,
watching the entrance.  "Now I'm starting to think we might be safer
inside."

"Just follow me."  Nick got out and kept himself between Natalie and the
mortals across the street.  When they saw that he and Natalie were
heading for the Raven, a couple of them started forward, and he pulled
his badge out.

Immediately they backed away, but one asked, "What's up, you looking for
a murderer?  You came to the right place.  Plenty of 'em inside, I'm
sure."

Nick ignored them, though he was tempted to tell them the truth--that
they were trying to identify a murder victim.  As far as he was
concerned, some of these mortals might be the women's killer,
accessories, or witnesses.  Nick nearly smiled at what fun he'd have
pulling information from them.  But when Natalie knocked on the door,
his attention came back to the Raven.  "Detective Knight and Dr.
Lambert.  We need to speak to Janette."

A few seconds later, the door clicked unlocked and Nick slipped inside,
pulling Natalie in by the hand.  The door shut behind them and they were
left in the near darkness of the club.  He didn't recognise the
vampiress who opened the door, but he asked her, "Where's Janette?"

"Upstairs."

Still holding onto Natalie's hand, Nick led her across the club.
Natalie was a bit surprised at how the others looked at her.  Most
seemed curious, but a few appeared to almost respect her.  Or something.
At least they weren't looking at her the same way LaCroix usually
did--like some meal or thorn in his side.  "Nick?"

He ignored her, pulling open the door to Janette's apartment.  Closing
the door, he finally let go of Natalie's hand.  He gave her a reassuring
smile as he led her up a flight of stairs.  Natalie hadn't been up here
before, although when they entered what appeared to be a small
apartment, she froze.  LaCroix stood across the room, watching them.

"Where's Janette?" Nick asked.

"You should not be here, Nicholas."

"Janette?" he repeated, stepping toward his sire.

"Hmm," Janette started, stepping into view, her lips turned up into a
smile.  "I haven't seen you here for a while."

"It's police business," LaCroix answered.  "Nicholas wouldn't be idiotic
enough to come here otherwise."

"One of us was murdered," Nick stated, then held his hand out toward
Natalie.

Pulling out the bag with the gold heart pendant in it, still on its
chain, she approached Nick and LaCroix.  The latter plucked it from her
hands and examined it, then took it to Janette.

Janette almost immediately tensed.  "This belonged to Laurel."

Nick glanced to LaCroix, wishing his sire wasn't there, then told
Janette, "It looks like she was shot with a crossbow, then chained in
place on a rooftop to be burned to ash upon sunrise."

The vampiress became visibly ill and turned away.

"Janette?" he said, concerned.

"Tell him, LaCroix."

"Tell me what?" he asked and looked toward his sire, who had pointedly
glanced away at Janette's suggestion.  "This isn't the first one, is
it?"

"No," she answered.  "Two others have been found as you described.
And--"

"No, Janette!"

Janette stiffened and backed away toward the wall when LaCroix started
toward her, enraged.

Nick moved forward and stopped LaCroix, while Janette closed her eyes,
clearly expecting to be forcibly removed from the room.

"And what?" Nick prodded, keeping his gaze on LaCroix.

"He worries it might give you ideas," Janette said from immediately
behind her brother, her eyes also glued to their sire.  When he made no
move to answer, yet didn't appear intent on silencing her, she supplied,
"Several of us have committed suicide.  Walked into the sun.  A couple
asked another to--"

"Enough!" LaCroix said, then turned sharply away.

Nick stiffened at both Janette's words and LaCroix' action, and Natalie
couldn't help but gasp ever so slightly in surprise.

Janette leaned forward against her brother and, changing the subject,
asked, "What is that mortals' policy on this murder?"

He turned and saw Janette's concern.  "So far, it's still being viewed
as murder.  We processed the scene roughly the same.  But there's
nothing to go on--no real evidence."  Pausing, he bowed his head
slightly and asked, "How many of us have--"

"Do not answer, Janette."

This time Janette obeyed, bowing her head and moving away from both Nick
and LaCroix.

"Do you know where she could have been taken from?" Natalie asked.  "Did
anyone see anything?"

"I wasn't even aware she was missing," Janette answered.  "She was here
last night.  Laurel never stayed at the club during the day.  And, no, I
have heard nothing, beyond that two others have been found in a similar
manner to what Nicolas described."

"Just--maybe see if you can find who saw her last, Janette," Nick
suggested, hearing her anger rise at Natalie.

Janette nodded.  She held out the heart pendant that still shone dully
in its bag.  "I assume you need this back?"

Nick nodded, taking the bag and handing it to Natalie, who returned it
to her coat pocket.  "For now, anyway.  Her ashes are being kept at the
morgue."

"I will show you out," Janette said, her attention shifting to Natalie
before she left the apartment.

Nick narrowed his eyes briefly at LaCroix before following, guiding
Natalie in front of him back down into the club.

"Nicolas, you should have something before you go," Janette said once
they re-entered the club.  She heard him groan and say her name, but she
didn't pay any attention to it, instead going immediately to the bar,
where the vampiress who had opened the door was sitting.  "Two glasses."
Turning to look at her brother, she added, "Fill one to the brim."

Nick glanced away, only to feel Natalie's hand on his arm, at which he
turned his gaze on her.  "Nat..."

"Don't look at me for a way out, Nick."  They both knew he had been
skipping meals at times--and with him having left before sunset, if
anything, he needed more.

Nick turned back when he heard two glasses set down, followed by the
sound of blood flowing, quickly filling them.  Janette took the
less-full glass, at which Nick slowly moved forward to the other glass.
He leaned over and took a sip as he picked it up; it was too full not to
spill otherwise.

Natalie watched him wince upon his first taste of the blood, and at
that, she saw a few of the others in the club look away.  They had
noticed his reaction, too, and didn't approve of it.  Then she nearly
jumped when Janette abruptly moved between her and a black-haired,
young-looking man.

The man appeared to be in his late twenties, and he shrunk back slightly
from Janette.  Natalie couldn't see, but she suspected Janette was fully
vamped out and the young man was probably petrified.

"May I speak to the mortal?" the man said in a terrified whisper.
"Please, I mean her no harm."  He held up his hands in surrender.

"I am not her keeper," Janette whispered in reply.  "Ask your question,
but approach no further."

The man bowed his head at Janette, then turned to face Natalie.  "You
are a...doctor, correct?"

"Er, yes," she answered, sure that the man--and most in the club--must
know her as either 'Dr. Lambert' or 'Nicholas' mortal doctor friend'.
She nearly jumped again when she felt Nick move up beside her and pull
her next to him.

Becoming more nervous, the man next asked, "You saved LaCroix' life?
And you helped Byron, too, am I right?"

"What do you want?" Nick asked brusquely before Natalie could reply.

"There are a few of us who have been injured and we haven't been able
to--  Would you help us, too?"

Natalie was a bit surprised, but while she had been afraid when he
initially approached, she no longer felt any fear of him.  "I don't
have--"  She turned toward Nick, who had tensed further.  "Nick, they
could come to the morgue...or we could come back in the morning,
after--"

"No," he answered.  "We can't come back in the morning," he explained,
turning to Natalie.  Then, focusing on the young man, he moved forward
until he stood right in front of the young vampire.  "The morgue is
fine...but know that anyone who harms Natalie will regret it."  At the
last, Nick's eyes glowed gold and his fangs glinted for a second in the
light.  The man backed quickly away, turning and literally flying away.

Natalie stiffened when Nick turned and brushed past her on his way back
to the bar, his eyes still flecked with gold.  She watched him slowly
finish the rest of his glass without turning back to her.  When he
didn't turn, she cautiously went over to him and placed a hand on his
arm and another on the middle of his back.  "Nick?"

"We should go," he answered simply, even though he wanted to know what
Janette and LaCroix had been discussing.  Finally he turned and guided
Natalie firmly toward the door.

Natalie didn't resist.  They did need to go, although now her thoughts
returned to those gathered outside the Raven.  As they exited the club,
sure enough, a few were gathered much nearer the door than before.  She
watched Nick again flash his badge, for which she was thankful when they
again kept their distance--although again they asked accusatory
questions about those in the club.  She was both thankful and fearful
when Nick escorted her to her side of the car; then he had to walk
completely unprotected to the other side.

Once inside, he told her, "Let me out in a few blocks."

"No," she stated.  "I'm driving you to the precinct.  I want to ask--"

"No."

"I didn't even finish my question, Nick," she said, the pursed her lips
in an attempt to hide her disapproval.

"No, I haven't considered it," he whispered, turning away.

"My first question was actually to ask why those in the Raven seemed to
fear me," she said letting some of her annoyance at his assumption
through.

Nick turned back, appearing stricken now that he had brought the other
topic back up.

"But, we can start with that."

"I haven't--"

"But would you?  Once others find out about you, would you then--"

"Not as long as I have you," he whispered, averting his gaze.

Natalie was faintly surprised by his reply, but after hearing it, she
couldn't help ask, "But what happens when you leave?  Or--"

"I don't know!" he snapped, turning back to her for a second.  "I've
never thought where I might go after Toronto.  Even before this...mess.
You remember how I was when we first met.  And before you ask, yes, I've
tried in the past, but I couldn't manage--"

"You would have to ask LaCroix to kill you," she guessed.  If Nick was
capable of walking into the sun or otherwise taking his own life, he
would have done so centuries ago.  But then, wasn't there also the
possibility that he had at one point asked LaCroix and been refused?
From the last month she had seen that LaCroix did care for Nick, and she
couldn't see him agreeing to such a dire request.  But LaCroix had,
after all, noticed something.  He had gone as far as essentially telling
her to stay.  What had Nick been like those days she hadn't?

Nick waited until they had driven several blocks before confirming,
"Yes."  Then, more animatedly, he turned toward her and said, "But,
again, I haven't--it's not something I've thought about for a second
until tonight, Nat.  I want you to know that."

Natalie nodded.  While he had seemed a bit preoccupied with his
thoughts, so had she.  She believed his statement, and decided to turn
back to her other question.  "So...what about the others?  I mean...they
were treating me a lot like how they treat you."

"What, with disapproval?  Nat, I'm not--"

"Fear...and respect," she corrected him.  "The only disapproval I saw
was after you cringed at that first sip from your glass.  I think that
young man was about as afraid of me as he was of Janette.  And you.  You
didn't have to threaten him like that."

"Yes, I did.  And it wasn't meant specifically for him.  If--I can't
stay at the morgue and make sure nothing happens to you.  And none of
the few I trust would be willing to do so instead."

"Why did he ask if I had helped LaCroix and Byron?  Wouldn't that be
common knowledge by now?"

At this, Nick smiled.  "It's only assumed, implied, that you helped
LaCroix.  And Byron is quite young and not necessarily taken seriously,
even by those not much older than himself."  Nick's smile softened, and
he explained, "And we all know that very few mortals would help us like
you have."

"But I've done nothing unusual."

"You've done so much...and asked nothing in return.  Most others would
have taken advantage of us.  You're...a curiosity.  A curiosity that
garners fear and wonder...and respect."

By now, they had arrived at the precinct, but instead of getting out and
heading inside immediately, Nick pulled out a small notebook and pen and
wrote down several phone numbers.  He tore the paper out and, after
putting the notebook and pen away, held it out.  "Here.  In case you
can't get hold of me."

Natalie took the piece of paper and found three numbers written down.
The first simply had 'Raven' written in front of it, the second
'Janette,' and the third, 'LaCroix.'

"You shouldn't need them, but...try them in that order if I'm at work
and I'm out or something.  Just insist that you need to speak to Janette
if you call the Raven and someone else answers."  Nick gave her a
reassuring smile, then got out and headed inside.

Only after she pulled onto the street did she realise Nick had left his
extra items--the hat, sunglasses, and gloves--in the car.  She knew why.
For one, he didn't need them.  With fall arriving, nights were getting
ever longer.  But he also didn't want the items to trigger more
suspicion--she had noticed those in the precinct avert their gaze when
he carried the extra sun protection, even if it was well past sunset.
Not that she was aware of any other vampires being seen during the day
similarly clothed.  The only reason Nick could manage it was having her
and Schanke to drive him.  She had a feeling few vampires had mortal
friends who were willing chauffeurs.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (024/111)

A full week later, a night after the deadline for vampires to identify
themselves willingly, things suddenly felt almost normal.  Almost.

The night she had gone to the Raven, Natalie had more live customers
than she had had since medical school.  Five vampires, three men and two
women, had come to her while she was working to have small objects
removed.  Four had multiple pieces of glass in partially healed wounds,
the skin around them red and slightly swollen.  Two of those four had
allowed her to try and irrigate the offending substance--she guessed
garlic, although none had confirmed it--from the wounds.  The fifth, a
man, had a wooden bullet lodged under his shoulder blade, along with a
couple of pieces of the garlic-coated glass.

None would explain how the glass had gotten there, although she had a
pretty good idea.  While the fifth refused to answer about the glass,
when she had asked who shot him, then asked if it had been a cop, he had
told her no.  It had simply been 'some mortal among the others', which
she took to mean those who had inflicted the other wounds.  Since he had
answered, she had also asked him when it had happened, and learned that
he had apparently only been injured the previous morning.  The others,
she realised, had been wounded a couple or even several days ago by the
way their wounds had partially healed.

In addition, the very first one who came in had also posed an unexpected
question of his own, even though he wouldn't answer anything about how
he had been injured.  He had asked if she could record their information
for the official identification purposes, rather than go in to the
precinct.  After a call to Nick, they had agreed she could.  The morgue
had far fewer mortals, and one could enter and leave without being seen.
At the precinct, any vampires had to speak first to the desk sergeant,
then walk through the bullpen before finally getting to be mostly alone.

They hadn't asked Schmidt for permission to do that, and in fact neither
Nick nor Natalie had even told him about it yet.  Nick had the names and
information in his hand--several pages' worth, plus a packet of
snapshots--that Natalie had gathered at the morgue.  He was now simply
waiting for Schmidt to come in.

Due to Natalie's unmentioned, yet extra work, Briggs and Flanagan had
been able to remain on day shift.  The two were now more or less back to
their usual jobs.  So were Anderson and DuBois--they were even returning
to the 27th that night.  Only Nick and Schanke were still doing double
duty, so to speak.  Most of the others didn't mind, but their co-workers
were earnestly starting to question why these two in particular had been
chosen.  Nick's 'allergy' had become renewed talk, although so far no
one who knew had let what he was slip.

Nick, of course, wasn't merely a detective, split between cases
involving vampires and mortals.  There had been another murder like that
of a week ago, and Nick had talked to Schmidt alone several times about
certain issues.  What would happen to the mortals who had killed those
vampires--now four total, although Schmidt only knew of two--if found,
was one of those issues.

Another topic was the mortals who hung around the Raven at night from
sunset to about midnight.  No solution had been found, but because of
their irritating presence, many of the vampires who had fled to Toronto
were finding more permanent homes, and no longer staying at the Raven.
The Raven had reopened, although mortals were still banned from
entering...or even approaching the entrance.  But now instead of the
club emptying after sunset, it started to fill up around that same time.

Another issue Nick had brought up was what would happen to those who
were brought across after last night--and those who had done it to them.
Would the turner somehow be punished?  And what if the newly turned
vampire didn't know who had done it or had been turned unwillingly?
They had both agreed that if it had been consensual, there should be no
punishment to either party, and simple verification would suffice.  But
nothing else was agreeable to both sides.  Schmidt's thoughts on the
matter wouldn't really matter, anyway, he suspected.  Someone else would
make the final decision.  Schmidt was merely the vessel to convey any
concerns to whomever was in charge.

The previous morning, Natalie had taken Sydney to Schanke's
place--Sydney's new home.  Although Myra had been convinced by saying it
was temporary, Schanke, Natalie, and even Nick suspected but didn't
corroborate that it was likely a permanent move.

And Cohen still hadn't yet officially approved Nick to work, even though
he knew she had received his various records from Chicago and reviewed
them several days ago.

Hearing Cohen's door open, Nick glanced up from his desk to find Schmidt
walking straight for him.

"Get your coat," he said to Nick.  When Schanke also started for his,
Schmidt added, "No, you stay here.  Your captain wants to speak with
you."

Schanke turned to find Cohen beckoning for him from the office door, and
he winced and headed in.

Once the door shut, Nick asked, "What's that about?"

"We'll get to that in a moment.  Am I driving, or you?"

He hesitated.  He didn't really want to ride with the mortal, but if he
needed to talk to Janette after, it would be easier to ditch him if
Schmidt drove.  "Depends.  Where are we going?"

"Hospital.  Dr. Lambert is headed there, too.  I'll explain on the way."

"Guess I'll drive," Nick replied, grabbed his coat, and followed Schmidt
out.  Getting in and starting the Caddy up, Nick asked which hospital,
pulled out of the parking spot and the lot, then asked, "Now, what did
Cohen want from Schanke?"

"I thought you could hear through walls and office doors."  Schmidt
raised his eyebrows, glancing at the detective.

Nick smiled for a second, but answered, "If I tried specifically, maybe.
But I was...preoccupied.  So, no, I don't know what you discussed with
Cohen."

"She's talking to him about you," Schmidt answered.

He had figured out that much himself.  "And?"

"And when we return, she wants to talk to you.  You'll find out her
verdict then."

"Which is what?"

"I don't know," Schmidt replied.  "I would guess you'll be staying,
though."

"Otherwise she would have told me to leave by now," Nick reasoned.
Then, after making a turn and then sitting at a red light, he reached
into his jacket and pulled out the folded papers and envelope of
photographs Natalie had given him the previous morning, which he held
out toward the mortal.  "These are more names for your list."

Schmidt took the papers, scanned through them, then let out a low
whistle.  Recognising the writing, he asked, "Wait, this is from Dr.
Lambert?"

"Yes," Nick answered, taking his eyes off the road for a second.  He
briefly explained that some of his kind had gone to Natalie for medical
assistance--and asked if they could register there instead of at the
precinct, that she had then called him to ask if it would be okay, and
he had told her to go ahead.  Surprisingly to Nick, Schmidt merely
nodded after he finished his explanation.

"I guess tonight is a bit of a reversal, then--her doing our paperwork,
and--"

Nick tensed and finished the other man's sentence, "Us going to the
hospital."

"Exactly.  There's a young woman there who claims she was attacked.  The
ER doctors already confirmed her story as probably true.  And unlike the
other one, this woman claims to know the vampire's name."

Nick tensed.  Nearly two weeks ago, Natalie had gone to the hospital
much like tonight, but it had been DuBois and Anderson that had met her.
Since there had been no evidence to substantiate the attack, and the man
who had been bitten hadn't seen the vampire's face, nothing could really
be done.  The victim also hadn't been permanently injured, but was more
stunned from being attacked than from blood loss.  It was a best-case
scenario for all those involved.

Schmidt remained relatively silent, merely skimming through the papers
Nick had given him for the remainder of the trip to the hospital.  Upon
arriving, Nick allowed Schmidt to lead the way, although he had to flash
his badge before they could get in to see the patient.

Natalie was already there, waiting, examining the wounds on the young
woman's neck.  She barely appeared to be out of her teens and wasn't at
all bothered by the examination.  To Nick, the wounds didn't look deep
or ragged, and the woman's dyed black hair and black Goth clothes made
him suspicious.  Janette had told him of some young mortals who
practically begged to be bitten--and, of course, at present, almost any
vampire would take that offer in an instant.

As Natalie walked up to them, hovering just outside the door for more
privacy, Nick whispered, "Is it...?"

"Yes, her blood work confirms it.  Anaemic, definitely bitten and fed
from.  But her wound is much cleaner than that of the other victim," she
said, and turned toward Schmidt.  "I seriously doubt she struggled like
she says she did.  She's adamant that she had simply been walking along
and was suddenly attacked from behind.  Which is at least partly, if not
fully, a lie."  Seeing Schmidt become confused, she explained, "The
angle and placement of the punctures indicates the vampire was standing
in front of her when she was bitten."

"And the name?"

"Er," Natalie said, grabbed a clipboard, then answered, "Her name is
Brittany Narrows.  According to her driver's license, she's twenty-two.
She says her attacker's first name was Morgan--long light brown hair
worn tied back."

"How does she know his name and hairstyle if she was attacked from
behind?" Schmidt asked.

"My point exactly.  She says she recognised him from the Raven--from
before."

"Wait, I think there's a Morgan on this list," Schmidt said, then pulled
out the papers Nick had given him.  There, halfway down page two, was
the name Morgan Rowle.  "Do you remember him?" he said, holding the list
out to Natalie.

She took it, and by the names around it, she remembered the young man's
visit.  He had actually been more polite than most who had come in, and
he had faintly reminded her of Nick.  Glancing at the sheet, she shook
her head.  "It's definitely not him," she said.  "Canine measurements
are too far off.  His are only 3.1 centimetres.  Brittany's attacker's
are 3.5."

"So more likely me," Nick replied sarcastically.  "But it means she's
probably lying.  Let's see for sure."

Nick entered the room and moved to a position beside the bed, then he
and Schmidt asked her what happened.  She gave her story, flawlessly,
fearlessly.  Nick could tell she had either rehearsed this...or her
memories had been tampered with.  Pulling Schmidt back toward the door,
Nick said quietly, "We're not getting the real story.  I don't know if
her memories have been altered or..."

"If she's playing us," Natalie whispered.

"I can find out," he told Schmidt.  When the other man didn't
immediately realise what he was implying, he further detailed, "I'll
either get the real story or I'll know that she's a resistor."  At
Schmidt's confused look, he amended, "Our word for those you call
immune."

"But you could also change what she might say, right?" Schmidt asked
hesitantly, a hint of suspicion creeping in.

"It would be obvious to you and Nat if I did any actual tampering.  All
I would do is re-ask our original questions, using a bit of persuasion."
He briefly closed his eyes.  "I've done it before in interrogations."

"This is different, Nick," Natalie reminded him.  "She probably knows
what vampires can do."

"Yes, but she doesn't know I'm one of them."

"But she could realise you are," Schmidt pointed out.

He looked away.  "She might, but I want the truth, whatever it is.  I
think we all do."

Schmidt considered, eventually telling him, "It's your decision.  But be
subtle."

Nick flashed him a smile, then turned and walked back to the woman.
Once a nearby nurse had moved away, he asked, "May I ask a couple more
questions?"

"Sure," Brittany lazily answered, apparently not caring that she would
be questioned once again.

"*What really happened?*" he demanded once he had caught her gaze.

Schmidt heard a slight change in Nick's voice--it became more monotonous
and actually a bit softer, but the question was clearly more of a
command.  He turned to Natalie, who nodded.  It was, indeed, barely
noticeable.

"*Tell us what really happened.*"

Brittany practically offered up the truth after she had zoned out.  "I
tried to hide near the back entrance of the Raven.  But several of the
vampires came and...they glared at me.  When Morgan arrived, I went up
to him, and asked him to bite me.  But he refused.  Then he just shoved
me away, and went inside the club."

"*And then?*" Nick probed when she became silent.

"I waited," she answered, then paused.  "I asked one of the others to do
it, but he also turned me down."

"*Then?*" Nick again prodded.

"I asked a third man, and he agreed.  He bit me, like I asked."

"*Why did you give Morgan's name?*"

"Because he refused!" she exclaimed, no longer remotely under Nick's
control, but simply offering up her answers.  "I saw him take blood from
other people before, and--"

"*That's enough,*" Nick commanded, silencing her in an instant.  She was
a child, probably barely even old enough to enter the club, assuming her
ID wasn't fake.  This was a foolish child's idea of revenge.  He moved
away and turned to find that Schmidt had followed him.  Natalie had
remained; she was calling the nurse back over.

"So this is some sort of twisted revenge?" Schmidt asked.  Getting a
nod, he shook his head.  "Is that common?  Humans wanting to be bitten?"
he asked in a whisper.

"It's not...uncommon," Nick answered, turning away.

"This is, I guess, a bit more complicated than I thought.  Or it can
be," Schmidt started.  He again shook his head.  "I see now what you
mean by...persuasion.  I don't suppose you can do that to another, er,
someone like you?" he asked.

"No."  Then, in a whisper, he said, "Or at least no more than I could to
you or Natalie."

"No more than?  Does that mean we're not actually immune?  I mean that
you can actually--"

"Not...really," Nick hedged.  "Not under any normal circumstances."  He
really didn't feel comfortable talking about this in a relatively public
location, the same way he didn't like his partner asking him questions
in the middle of the precinct.  Even though no one was near enough to
overhear them, it was...unsettling.  "If I caught you off guard, I might
be able to get you to tell me more than you would otherwise.  But I
still wouldn't be able to make you do anything you weren't already
considering...or make you fully forget anything," he explained.  "What
do you intend to do regarding this situation?" he asked, deliberately
trying to change the subject.

"Well," Schmidt began, considering.  "Apparently she was bitten
willingly, so there's no need to look into it any further.  Not beyond
keeping an eye out for a repeat, I suppose."

When Natalie came over a few minutes later, the woman's wound bandaged,
she asked, "So, I guess that's it?"

Schmidt nodded.  "You have her information and statement, correct?"

"Yep," Natalie said, holding up both her clipboard and her voice
recorder.  "I'll type up the statement like last time and bring it by
later."

Schmidt nodded.  Nick had somewhat zoned off until Natalie took his hand
and squeezed it slightly as she passed.  He gave her a smile when she
let go and left, although he wasn't sure if she had seen it.  Schmidt,
however, had noticed the quick exchange and, hoping to avoid being asked
about it, Nick headed quickly back to the Caddy.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Twenty minutes later, Nick sat in a chair in front of Cohen's desk.  He
heard the door click shut, but kept his gaze forward on the desk and
empty chair.  When Cohen sat down, Nick caught a glimpse of her stony
expression before he turned his attention to an empty spot of the desk.

"Knight, have you spoken to your partner since you returned with
Schmidt?"

"No."

"He and I had a discussion about something I was concerned about--"

"From Chicago," he finished for her.

"Exactly.  I was pleased to discover that you had already mentioned it
to your partner."  Cohen pulled out a folder, opened it, and set it in
front of Nick.  "I showed him your files."

"Have you shown anyone else?"

"No.  Only Schmidt, Schanke, myself, and now you have seen this," she
said, gesturing to the folder.  "The Commission does know I have it,
however, but they have--for now--given me full say in whether you remain
with the department or not."

Nick didn't want to look at it.  It was him, but it was his past.  It
was a different life.  He really didn't want to remember what had
happened in more detail than he already did.  Enough of those memories
were already flashing before him at the moment, and now it sounded like
that mistake could possibly cost him his job.

"Your partner wouldn't tell me anything else, other than to confirm that
he knew that you initially did not go to the academy until your partner
was injured."

"And you want to know why," Nick stated.  He knew this question was
coming.  Seeing Cohen nod, he closed his eyes.  "Because I thought...I
thought what I am...I thought my experience...and my abilities...would
be enough.  But I was wrong."

"If your partner hadn't been shot, would you still have--"

"Yes," Nick answered, cutting his captain off.  "Yes, I'm fairly sure I
would have.  Eventually."

Cohen left the file where it was, then pulled out two other files and
placed them on top of the first.

Nick leaned slightly forward.  One was a copy of his arrest after being
framed a little over a year ago, and 'bottled cow's blood in
refrigerator' had been highlighted.  The other file was older, but he
stopped, seeing a similar highlighted line.  It was, like the file
underneath, from the '50s, and he leaned back, wondering what else
Schmidt had found on him and then given to Cohen.

"You drink cow's blood?"

He winced.  "I...did."

"You did?"

"For most of the last century, until a little over a month ago.  Since
then, I've been exclusively drinking human blood."  Seeing a hint of
what he assumed was disgust, he clarified, "Bottled human blood.  I
can't get cow's blood anymore without risking revealing myself."

"I see.  Now, I know you and Dr. Lambert are close friends..." Cohen
started.  Once Nick gave a slight nod, she continued, asking, "Have you
ever bitten her?  Taken her blood?"

"No," he answered, for the first time glancing up and meeting Cohen's
eyes for more than a second.  When she didn't ask another question, he
again dropped his eyes.  He simply wanted an answer on whether or not he
would be staying and dreaded what she would ask next--or what the next
file she would plop in front of him contained.

Again opening a folder, Cohen took out a small, card-sized object, and
placed it on top of the other files.

Nick focused on it, initially confused.  It looked exactly like his
badge ID, except his birth date had been removed and replaced with
'vampire' written in red italic text.

"Keep that with your badge.  For now, it's more or less proof of what
you are.  You can slide it behind your regular card and don't have to
display it unless asked.  It will, however, eventually replace your
police ID after what you are is more widely revealed.  You may return to
your desk now."

Nick was a bit stunned.  This was all?  "Captain--"

"If I need to explain that again, Knight..."

Nick leaned forward and snatched the ID card up before Cohen could take
it back.  He pulled out his badge and slid the card in behind his other
ID card as instructed.  Looking up, he saw a smile on Cohen's face.  He
mirrored it and muttered, "Thank you, Captain," stood, and left the
office.

Sitting down at his desk, he grinned at his partner.

"Green light?" Schanke asked.

"Yep."

"Good.  I was starting to worry I'd have to break in a new partner."

Nick's grin waned slightly at that thought.  He had been worrying he
might be out of a job--and possibly any job, since he wasn't aware of
many vampires working for mortals.  Yes, indeed, tonight was starting to
feel more normal.  Maybe the world would eventually accept vampires.  It
was nice to see a glimmer of hope, for a change.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (025/111)

Natalie kept waking up throughout the day.  LaCroix had returned to
sleeping in Nick's room three days ago, starting the morning after Cohen
had finally officially informed Nick he would remain in his job.  She
had become accustomed to his absence after the week and a half LaCroix
had, for whatever reason, abruptly started sleeping on the sofa after he
had recovered from his injuries.

And, whenever she woke, she started upon seeing LaCroix lying there,
right behind Nick.  That, in turn, woke Nick.  And when this happened,
he would kiss her on the cheek, or temple.  Once, he even kissed her on
the lips.  Another time, he had playfully nibbled her ear.  Then he
would pull her tight before again falling asleep, and she would remain
awake for several more minutes before she could do the same, smiling at
his actions.  Twice, however, she thought they had momentarily woken
LaCroix; once she swore he had glanced their way, and another time he
had turned onto his side to face away.

This time when she had started awake--the third time that day and it was
barely noon--Nick had kissed her on the mouth again, deeper than when he
had done so the day before, and she could tell his fangs had descended.
Then, after pulling away, he had kissed her neck right below her ear.
It had been hard not to kiss him back, but she knew if she did, he would
probably leave the room and sleep the rest of the day on the couch.

Having once more nearly fallen asleep, she thought she felt LaCroix
shift.  Figuring he had merely turned away from them again, she kept her
eyes closed and tried to tune everything out.  She wasn't sure how much
time passed before she felt Nick abruptly shift, a hint of sharp, quick
pain in her neck, and then nothing.

Opening her eyes and sitting up, Natalie was shocked to find Nick being
held back by LaCroix.  Nick was struggling, not to get at her, but to
get away from LaCroix.  Nick appeared stricken, upset at what he had
done, and not even slightly hungry, despite the few drops of blood on
his lips...her blood.

As Nick slipped free and darted from the room, Natalie started to feel a
faint stinging on her neck, yet all she could think of was if Nick was
okay.  She knew he hadn't meant it, based on how disoriented he had
seemed.  And, from what she could tell, he hadn't even actually fed from
her.  Starting to head after him, Natalie felt LaCroix grab her roughly
from behind.

"Leave him," he whispered into her ear.

Natalie tried to pry his arms from around her waist, but couldn't.  Then
she felt herself being pulled back and down until she was lying back
down on the bed, with LaCroix holding her in front of him.  "Please, let
me--"

"Shh," he said, holding her tight with one hand.  With his other hand,
he gently touched the unblemished right side of her neck.

The touch, while tender and, she suspected, probably an attempt to calm
her, did nothing of the sort.  It awakened her strange dreams yet again,
and Natalie tried to pry LaCroix' arm from around her waist.  She
thought she had finally managed it, only for him to turn her, roll her
onto her back, and pin her to the mattress.

"He cannot harm you now," LaCroix insisted.

But Natalie's thoughts weren't on what had just happened.  She knew Nick
wouldn't have or didn't intend to hurt her moments before.  He probably
didn't even realise what he had done until he had done it.  What Nick
had done had stirred up something else undefined--an argument between
him and LaCroix, with her caught in the middle.  She fought back tears,
although she wasn't sure of their source.  Was it fear at LaCroix
holding her down and what he might now do?  Was it a lingering remnant
of whatever she had dreamt before?  Was it possibly not even a dream,
but something real?  And then there was Nick--he had been horrified at
what he had done, and she wanted to go and assure him that he hadn't
hurt her.

"Shh," LaCroix repeated, rolling back onto his side and pulling Natalie
back against him.  She fought him at first, trying to push away.  "I
will not harm you!"

At his somewhat harsh words, Natalie stopped fighting, and finally let
LaCroix try to calm her.  When he pulled her closer, guiding her head to
rest on his shoulder and completely ignoring what she was sure were at
least a few drops of blood on her neck, Natalie found herself abruptly
reminded of Nick.

This was what Nick would do to try and comfort her from a bad or
disturbing dream or the like.  Gradually she relaxed and gently touched
his back.  She felt LaCroix recoil for a split second, as if he didn't
like others touching him, which she suspected was true.

Barely five minutes later by Natalie's guess, she heard LaCroix faintly
gasp, then felt him push against her shoulder.  She had nearly fallen
back to sleep, and by the time she realised what had happened, she was
alone in the bed.  Wanting to know what had startled LaCroix, she got up
and headed to the door.  Down below she found him disoriented.  Nick was
nowhere in sight.

Rushing down the stairs, she quickly found that Nick's coat, hat,
gloves, sunglasses, and keys were missing.  Wanting to make certain that
meant what she suspected, Natalie headed down the stairwell and found
Nick's car also missing.  He had left at midday, the sun high overhead,
the sky cloudless and a brilliant light blue.

Natalie remained for several minutes, hoping maybe he would simply drive
around the block before returning.  When it was clear he wasn't coming
right back, she returned upstairs.  She found LaCroix waiting for her
outside the stairwell door, and she immediately asked him, "Will he be
okay?"

Instead of answering, LaCroix' eyes turned to gold and he turned away.
"I did this.  This is my fault."

"No," Natalie started, seeing no way that LaCroix could have been
involved.  This had started with Nick nearly biting *her*.  In fact, he
*had* bitten her, or came very close to it.  LaCroix was the one that
had stopped him.  "No, it's more my--"

"No," LaCroix snarled, turning back and causing Natalie to back into the
closed door.  Closing his eyes and calming somewhat, he explained,
"I...grazed my fingers against his neck.  He bit out of instinct, a
reaction to what I had done."

Natalie was initially stunned, but his explanation made perfect sense if
he cared about Nick as much as she suspected.  But shouldn't he have
expected Nick might bite her?  Or had LaCroix done this before, perhaps
several times over the past several days, and Nick simply had not
reacted to the touch beyond kissing her, waking her up...  She was
startled out of her thoughts when LaCroix opened his eyes, which first
met her gaze, then shifted to her neck.

LaCroix stepped forward and pushed Natalie's head to the side with one
hand, touching the skin near the wounds--mere scratches, not even a real
bite--with the other.

When Natalie pushed his hands away, he immediately acquiesced, which
surprised her.  Narrowing her eyes at him, she thought she had almost
seen concern before it vanished into his usual visage of near disdain
for her.

"You care what happens to me.  Or at least you're acting like you do.
Why?" she asked, but she already had an idea why.  Her presence was what
was keeping Nick focused and sane.  LaCroix had to recognise that, and
while she waited for a response to her challenge, she could almost see
him thinking, considering how to respond.  Remembering several weeks ago
when he had seemed concerned about Nick overhearing him, she added,
"Nick's not here.  You can say whatever you want to me.  I can't
guarantee I won't tell Nick, but I do want to know why you you're almost
as concerned about me as he is right now.  I know you hate me being
here.  You hate that I'm close to him."  When his eyes became a
brighter, deeper, almost bronze-gold she said, "I can tell what you
think about me by how you glare at me.  Like now."

LaCroix looked away, turned, and walked into the middle of the loft.  "I
do not...hate you," he said, the last words forced.  He almost turned,
but stopped himself.  "Tend to your wounds."

"Not until you answer me," Natalie replied, pleased that they bothered
him.  Although whether it was that she had been injured, that Nick had
done it in response to something he had done, or simply that the scent
of her blood enticed him, she didn't know.  At the moment, she didn't
even particularly care.  Stepping closer to him, she repeated her
original question, "Why do you care what happens to me?"

"You live because I allow it!" he hissed, turning to face the mortal.

Natalie froze.  "What do you mean, 'because you allow it'?  What
right--"

"Nicholas refused to let me claim one for whom I cared deeply, and she
for me.  I told him then that if he were to ever truly love another,
that I would take from him what he had taken from me."

Natalie gasped, then her thoughts returned to the strange dream, but
this time it was much clearer.  It *hadn't* been a dream.  Natalie
closed her eyes and saw the Azure.  It had been LaCroix who met her for
dinner that night, and after that, everything became blurred.  But she
was sure LaCroix' reason for inviting her there was for what he had just
told her.  She vaguely remembered him asking about her relationship with
Nick, but not her answer.  Had he also asked Nick?  What had been his
answer?  And why had LaCroix apparently spared her life?  Why had he
'allowed' her to live as he now said he had?  And why didn't she
remember any of this?  She had only vague memories of going to dinner
with Nick--or, more specifically, Nick confirming her assumption.  Her
mind had been clear before...

"You drugged me," she eventually said, knowing that's what had to have
happened.

"What?" LaCroix asked, the hatred gone from his voice, replaced by clear
confusion.

"At the Azure."  Natalie watched him stiffen and straighten.  He *had*
drugged her.  That's why she didn't remember and only had strange dreams
about what had happened.  "Why did you let me live?  You were planning
to kill me...or bring me across.  One of the two.  Weren't you?"

"Yes," LaCroix answered, turning away again.  "Nicholas...I told him to
bring you across if he truly didn't care what happened to you."

"But he obviously didn't."

"I...left.  I believe he may have--"  He stopped and shut his eyes.  "I
left knowing he would follow through if I remained.  I allowed you to
live because I believe I would have lost him forever if I had waited for
him to prove you were nothing to him.  He feared what I would do to the
point he would have pushed himself too far.  And I would have lost him."

"You would have lost him if he had brought me across?" she asked.  She
couldn't see his reasoning, especially after the last month of the three
of them practically living together...and she'd about bet he and Nick
were getting along better than usual because of her presence.

"I would have lost him when he had killed you in his attempt to do so,"
he answered, turning once again to face the mortal.  "If Nicholas--when
he cares--"  His eyes faded to an icy silver before he quickly stated,
"He cannot stop himself.  He takes too much.  There is not enough blood
left for any form of life after he has taken the blood of one for whom
he cares, of one who loves him in return."

Natalie was once again shocked.  Was this why Nick wouldn't dare taste
her blood?  Because he'd drink it all?  Was this why he wouldn't do much
more than hold her or perhaps kiss her once or twice?  And was this why
he was so against the idea of her becoming a vampire, of bringing her
across?  It sounded as if this had happened before, perhaps more than
once.  But if it had, why hadn't LaCroix taken that lost love as payment
in exchange for the one Nick had prevented him from obtaining or
keeping?

"Tend to your wounds," LaCroix again stated, then flew up to Nick's
room, entered, and slammed the door behind him.

Natalie winced at the last, and decided she should indeed take care of
the wounds.  She didn't think they were very large, but from where her
neck stung and tingled, she worried about trying to cover them up.
Reaching the bathroom, Natalie flipped on the light and looked into the
mirror.

She flinched when she saw her reflection.  The wounds weren't deep--they
were merely scratches--but both had bled substantially for their size.
The collar of her otherwise pristine white shirt had turned bright red,
and from the wounds to the fabric were lines of dried or drying blood.
First, she cleaned the blood off with a damp washcloth.  Immediately the
wounds appeared much better, but she realised they were high enough that
even her coat wouldn't cover them.

Natalie hunted for some bandages, but had no luck at all.  Unless there
were some up in the bathroom off of Nick's room--unlikely, since he
didn't really need them--he didn't have any.  She even checked the
kitchen, knowing Nick had a penchant for storing extra items in odd
places, before she gave up.  She did at least find some ointment in the
bathroom to put on the scratches.  And while the scratches had bled,
they had long stopped bleeding, so the ointment would be enough for the
time being.

Her wounds now treated, she pulled out another shirt.  If she could, she
wanted to talk further with LaCroix.  She also wanted to see if she
could get the blood out of her shirt; when Nick returned, she didn't
want him to see her bloodied shirt.  It made this look worse than it
was...much worse.  Shutting the door for a moment, she changed, then
exited the bathroom and went to the kitchen sink.

After rinsing out what blood that would come out from her shirt at the
kitchen sink, Natalie soaked the collar in a bowl of water to try and
loosen more.  During this she had noticed the light on the phone
indicating the line was in use.  Was LaCroix trying to figure out where
Nick had gone?  But, other than to LaCroix' apartment, where would he
go?  She didn't think he'd go to the Raven during the day; it was far
too risky that he'd be seen and what he was would be discovered.  But
what state had Nick been in when he left?  Neither she nor LaCroix had
gone down to check on him.  Had Nick thought he had bitten her without
reason, or did he know LaCroix had triggered it?  She suspected he
didn't know, and so, as usual, he was blaming himself.

By late afternoon Natalie was getting tired, but Nick still hadn't
returned.  Through soaking her shirt, she had gotten most of the blood
out, but was considering tossing it anyway, since she wasn't sure how
much it would bother Nick.  Would he still be able to smell hints of her
blood on it?

When over an hour had passed since the last time LaCroix had tried
calling someone, Natalie tentatively went upstairs.  The door to Nick's
room was still closed tight.  She knocked lightly, but received neither
a verbal response, nor did he pull the door open.  She put her hand on
the door handle, said, "I'm coming in," counted slowly in her head to
five, then opened the door.

Inside, LaCroix was lying on the unmade bed on his side, clearly awake.
He glanced at her when she entered, but made no move to sit up, which
struck her as strange.  At some point he had gotten dressed, which made
him appear all the more odd.  The phone was sitting a little bit away
from his hand.  "Did you find out where Nick went?" she asked.

"No.  Janette has not seen him.  And there are not many places Nicholas
would or could go."

"Did you try my apartment?  I can give you the--"

"*Yes*," he hissed, his anger from earlier returning for that one word.

"Is he...okay?" she next asked.  She nearly asked if he was alive, but
thought better of it.

"He is not dead.  Beyond that, I do not know how or where he is."
LaCroix rolled over, first onto his back, then his other side, so that
he faced away from the mortal.

Gradually moving nearer, she questioned, "Does Nick know you didn't
believe him?  At the Azure?"  When she got no answer, she tried again,
"You said you told him to bring me across to prove he didn't care about
me.  Obviously he said he didn't, right?"

"Yes."

"Did you know it was very possibly a lie?"

LaCroix hesitated several seconds before again answering, "Of course."

"And you 'let' me live?  Or remain mortal."  Natalie waited, but he
didn't reply.  "Did you ever tell Nick that?"  Again, he didn't answer.
"So he still thinks if he, what--shows more than a certain amount of
affection toward me, you'll take your revenge?"

Once more he remained silent.

"Do you *ever* tell him the truth?"  She waited again, but not as long
this time.  "No wonder you two argue like spoiled children.  No wonder
he hates you.  And no wonder you feel on the verge of losing him pretty
much all of the time.  The more you lie to him, the further he slips out
of--"

"Enough!" LaCroix yelled in reply, quickly getting up and flying at
Natalie, shoving her back into the wall, pinning her, pressing a hand
against and into her neck.

She struggled, trying to pry his hand down or at least loosen his grip,
but to no avail.  LaCroix looked furious, but also overflowing with
conflicting emotions.  Starting to feel dizzy, she closed her eyes and
tried to relax, hoping she'd be able to breathe easier.  Instead, his
hand pressed into her until she couldn't breathe at all.  Finally, after
her vision blurred and started to darken, the extreme pressure abruptly
vanished, although his hand remained loosely at her neck.

Once LaCroix came clearly into view again, Natalie chanced continuing
and asked, "What was the last thing he told you, without you forcing it
out of him, about how he felt?"  She watched him once again pause to
think, which had been what she had hoped.  "When you next see him, do
you intend to tell him what happened?  That it wasn't his fault, that he
didn't just randomly bite me?"

He shut his eyes tight, seemingly trying to contain his anger.

"What is more important--him finding out you care, or him thinking he
bit me randomly in his sleep?"  Again he didn't reply.  She was starting
to think nothing she said mattered, when his hand abruptly dropped away
and he turned.  "LaCroix?"

"Will you return tomorrow morning?" he asked, ignoring her previous
questions.

"What?  Why wouldn't I?" she asked, angry and confused at his question.

"Nicholas *did* hurt you."

"It was an accident!"

"And now I have also hurt you."

She flinched when he touched her neck.  Her skin was indeed tender, and
she suspected she'd now have bruises to go with the scratches from
Nick's fangs.  "Well, I'm sure he can decide what to do about that if
need be.  So, will you tell him?"

"Won't you?" LaCroix sneered.

"Probably.  I'll definitely be asking about the details of whatever pact
or agreement you two made."  She closed her eyes and shook her head a
couple of times before again looking at the vampire.  "But now I'm going
to have to go home to get ready for work, and if I can't cover things
up, I might not be able to talk to him until tomorrow morning.  He'll
have to come back here to change for work, but...  Either you'll talk to
him or you won't.  I know I don't have any say in what you do.  But
please at least tell him I'm not upset with him and that I'll be back
after work."

Natalie left the bedroom, leaving LaCroix where he was.  She pulled the
door shut behind her and returned to the bathroom below where her things
were.  She would also need clean clothes for work for the following
night, in addition to a couple of bandages and a scarf for tonight, so
she took the bag with her dirty clothes.

Before leaving, she wrote up a note for Nick.  She didn't trust LaCroix
to forward any messages from her, not entirely.  While short, simply
telling him she'd be back in the morning, that she was fine and hoped he
was as well, she felt it was better than either nothing or explaining
more explicitly.  At last she left, the door to Nick's room still shut
tight.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (026/111)

Arriving at work, Natalie jumped, seeing Nick sitting at her desk.  He
appeared extremely unwell, but he had at least gone home.  He had
dressed for work and, judging by his still almost wet hair, taken a
shower.  She watched his attention snap to the scarf around her neck,
and in a split-second he stood and flew up to her.  "Nick, don't," she
said when he reached up and pulled it away.

Nick, however, only saw two bandages.  When he reached up to peel one
back, he found her pulling away and covering it again with the scarf.
"Natalie..."

"What did LaCroix tell you?"

He turned away.  "Everything.  Or that's what he told me to tell you."
He looked back to her for a second before again averting his eyes.  "You
should have said something about remembering what happened at the Azure.
I would have told you."

Natalie pursed her lips.  She didn't like seeing him nervous like this,
pained that he had messed up and upset her.  And while she *was* upset
that he had let her think she had simply forgotten that night, she
wasn't sure that demanding why he had never told her what really
happened was the right way to go about it.  She really wasn't that
upset, but it would have been nice to know her dreams were more than
merely her imagination.  "I didn't know what I was remembering until
tonight.  I thought it was just some twisted dream my mind had
fabricated."

"I'm sorry about that...and about this morning."

"I know.  And I know it was an accident--you didn't know what you were
doing."

Nick watched Natalie walk over to her desk, take off her coat but not
the scarf, and set her purse on her desk.  "Did you bruise?"

"What?"

"From his hand on your neck.  LaCroix said--he said he--" he faltered.

"Yes," she whispered.  "But I was able to cover up most of it, I think."

"I'll tell him to leave.  If you want him gone, I'll go home right now
and--"

"No, it's fine."

"But he--"

"It's fine!" she half-yelled, effectively silencing Nick's protests, but
making him more nervous.  "You should be at work."

"Schanke knows where I am.  I thought we should talk about--I'm sorry I
left.  I know you were worried.  Both of you."  He paused, then said,
"Fleur."

"Fleur?  Who--" Natalie started, thinking she had heard the name before
sometime in passing.

"She is...the woman LaCroix fell in love with."  He swallowed hard
during the pause, not sure he really wanted to talk about this.

She watched him start to pace, his expression slowly becoming one of
disgust.  Apparently this was as hard for him to talk about as it had
been for LaCroix.  "Nick?"

"My sister.  I didn't want to see her become--Fleur was good and pure
and so utterly unlike LaCroix.  She was eighteen, almost nineteen at the
time.  It was a little less than a year after I had been brought
across."  He paused again and closed his eyes.  "I had finally convinced
LaCroix to let me go home, say goodbye to my mother and sister."  He
again looked at Natalie, gave her a half-smile that faltered and
vanished almost immediately.  "He was furious after that.  He never
forgave me...never let me forget it."

Natalie walked back over to Nick, stopping short of taking his hands in
hers.

"Tonight I finally asked him if he was going to--"  He stopped, again
half-smiling, raised a hand, and brushed the back of his fingers along
Natalie's jaw.  "He told me that due to our discovery, he would no
longer seek payment of our agreement.  Granted, I think it's more
because he's still intent on keeping me safe.  If you turned up
murdered, drained..."

"Did he tell you why you, ah, tried to bite me?"

Nick nodded.  "Like I said, he explained...everything."  He cracked
another sad smile.  "I'm still sorry."

"I know, Nick, I know.  I'll see you after work, okay?  Unless I need to
come over for something, which...frankly I hope I don't."

What little colour Nick had drained out of his face.

"As long as I keep that scarf on, I don't think it's too obvious."
Seeing his nervousness return, she tried to reassure him, "And I'm okay.
You barely even scratched me."  When he didn't seem any better off, she
gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, which succeeded in relaxing him a
little.  "Now go before Cohen grills your partner on where you vanished
to."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Two nights later, Cohen called "Dr. Lambert," while Natalie dropped a
report off with one of the other detectives at the 96th precinct.  "I'd
like a word with you."

Natalie silently cursed.  Cohen.  Coming to a halt, her path already
headed back toward the exit, she tried to force away any apprehension,
then turned and walked toward the captain and into the office.

"Close the door."

Natalie hesitated, but followed the order.

As the door shut, Cohen ordered, "Take the scarf off, Doctor."

"What?  Why?" she asked, trying to pretend she couldn't think of a
reason.

"While it is October, it's not that cold out and I don't think I have
ever seen you wear a scarf like that," she said, nodding toward the
scarf that didn't merely hang around the other woman's neck.  One end
had been flipped over her shoulder, concealing more of her neck.  "Take
it off.  I'll apologise if my suspicions are wrong."

Natalie flinched, then did as ordered.  She hadn't bandaged the
scratches tonight, since they had already begun to heal quite well,
being so minor.  And while they were indeed scratches rather than
punctures, she was sure Cohen would know exactly what had caused them,
given the distance between them.  At least she had been able to cover
the bruises LaCroix had given her fairly seamlessly.  Or they had been
before she left for work, anyway.

Cohen moved closer and saw two thin, centimetre long scratches about
three finger-widths apart.  About the distance, she'd guess, between
many vampires' fangs.  "Did Knight--"

"It's not what it looks like," Natalie quickly said, talking over the
other woman.

Cohen narrowed her eyes, then reopened the office door.  "Knight!  In
here, now."

Natalie flinched at Cohen's tone.  Rarely did she yell that loudly, and
Natalie knew it would draw attention from the others in the precinct.
Natalie glanced at Nick when he entered, and she saw him glance to her
bare neck as Cohen slammed the door behind him then locked it with a
click.

"Explain," Cohen said, nodding at Natalie.  "Now."

"It wasn't intentional," he answered, knowing immediately what Cohen had
seen.  The scarf was off and he knew Natalie hadn't covered up the
scratches tonight.

"Not intentional?" Cohen repeated, clearly not pleased.

"It's complicated," he said.

"Nick didn't intend--I moved the wrong way and his fangs grazed my skin.
He wasn't even awake at the time.  It's nothing."

"I asked you not even a week ago--"

"It was an accident," he repeated.

"And how likely is it for this accident to repeat itself?"

Nick didn't answer.  Nor did Natalie.

Focusing solely on her detective, Cohen more calmly stated, "I'm sure
you are aware that if something happens to Dr. Lambert, you will be the
primary suspect."

Nick averted his eyes and nodded.  He suspected if something happened to
Natalie even remotely connected to what he was, he'd be exposed, fired,
and who knew what else.  He didn't need a talk from Cohen to remind him
of that.

"I spoke highly of you to both McIntyre and the police commission.
Don't make me regret that.  McIntyre has already accused me of being
taken in by your, shall we say...'charm'?"

Nick tensed and snapped his gaze up.  He had, after all, used his
'charm' on Cohen in the past.  He somewhat doubted he could get Cohen to
forget about this, however.  She had proof of her suspicions with
Natalie.  Then, before Nick could reply, he was distracted by a knock on
the door.

It was Schmidt, and Natalie quickly pulled her scarf back on and over
the scratches while Cohen started for the door.

Unlocking the door, Cohen asked, "Can this wait?"

"Unfortunately, no, it can't.  I need Knight--Dr. Lambert might be
useful, too."

Cohen looked like she wanted to refuse him, but sighed.  "Very well."

"Come with me," Schmidt whispered and started off toward the conference
room.

Nick, a bit stunned at the change, and certain that Cohen had wanted to
talk to them some more, felt Natalie take his arm and push him toward
the door.  They arrived well after Schmidt, and found him apparently
rejoining a conference call.

"Yes, yes, I might be able to give you an answer...just a moment,"
Schmidt said, then muted the speaker on the phone.  "I'm on the phone
with a detective in San Francisco.  There was a fire and several
vampires were killed, but there are two who simply appear to have very,
very severe burns.  They're unconscious, but since the others turned to
ash and they haven't, it's assumed they might make it," Schmidt
explained, then without much of a pause, continued, "They're being taken
to the hospital, but now there's the big question about how to treat
them, beyond--"

"Blood," Nick finished for him, but also in answer.

"Give them an IV of whole blood directly into their stomach, or else
into a large artery," Natalie said, then turned toward Nick, who gave a
nod of approval.

"Good," Schmidt affirmed.  "Most vampires so far have been taken and
cared for by their own, but the sun wasn't even quite down there when
this happened, so..."

Schmidt turned the speaker on again, "Okay, Detective, here you go.  Dr.
Lambert, repeat what you just said."

After Natalie had done so, the disembodied voice asked, "What do you
mean by large artery?"

"Er, aortic, femoral, or carotid would probably be the best.  But any
large vessel will suffice."

The man repeated the words, probably while he was trying to write them
down.  "And the doctor is concerned about these guys waking up
and...well, can we sedate them somehow?  Curare is listed on the care
sheet as a paralytic, but the doctor here doesn't want to use it, says
it's poison and that the dose it recommends would kill any human ten
times over."

"Just a second," Schmidt said and again hit mute.  "What do you two know
about--"

"Use something else," Nick simply said.  "Anything else."

Schmidt then turned to Natalie, but she shook her head.  She didn't know
anything about sedating a vampire, not really.

"Use what?" Schmidt asked and turned back to Nick.

"I don't know, but curare or--it doesn't kill us, but I don't know what
its effect would be in a severely injured vampire.  It paralyses, but
doesn't prevent us from regaining consciousness.  It could make them
more afraid, particularly if they've never experienced it.  And they
probably haven't."

"So instead they should use--?"

"Turn the speaker back on," Nick ordered.

Schmidt hit the button again.  "Okay, Detective?"

"Yes?" said the detective from San Francisco.

"It would involve some experimentation," Nick started.  "But a basic
sedative, a strong one, via an intravenous drip should work.  They'll
probably need a much higher dose than usual.  Paralytics of any kind are
inadvisable.  The...patient...remains conscious.  And they'd panic upon
waking."

Again, the detective repeated parts of the instructions, then said,
"Thanks, Doctor...er, I'm sorry, I don't think I got your name."

"I didn't introduce him," Schmidt answered and glanced up at Nick, who
nodded.  "He is the vampire representative here."

"Oh, then, er," there was a pause, perhaps as he looked through notes,
"Can I ask another question?"

"Sure," Nick replied, not at all sure he would want to answer the next
question.

"One of them--er, one of the vampires has what appears to be a bullet
wound.  Is it better to remove that before or after the burns start
healing?  And how long does it take burns from fire to heal?"

"Remove the bullet first," Nick answered.  "And the burns should start
to heal immediately once they're given blood, but how long depends on
the severity of the burns, the extent of the damage, and what shape
they're in otherwise, even when--"  He abruptly stopped himself.  He'd
been about to say 'when they'd last fed and from what,' but didn't think
it was necessary.  "It could take anywhere from a few minutes to a
couple of days to heal.  With hospital treatment, I'd assume minutes or
hours."

"Again, thanks," the detective said.  "And now I need to find that
doctor.  I'll tell Hollander I managed to contact you."  Then the man
hung up.

Schmidt also hung up.  "Thank you for helping with that.  I hated to ask
you, but some of those like me do know I'm on...good terms, I hope, with
you."  Seeing Nick stiffen, he continued, "Don't worry, they don't know
you're a detective.  If I'm asked what the representative was doing
here, I'll say you were already here to speak with me about something."

"How many died?" Natalie asked.

"Ah, he wasn't sure.  At least six, I think, is what he said."  Schmidt
shook his head.  "Arson.  But beyond that, I probably won't learn
anything faster than the news will announce it."  Schmidt started to
organise some files and flip a folder shut, then he asked, "What did
Cohen want with you two, anyway?"

Nick and Natalie glanced at one another, then Nick replied, "Nothing.
She simply...reminded us to be careful."  It wasn't an outright lie; it
was a concise, yet vague enough summary that it would mesh with anything
Cohen might tell Schmidt later.

"Excellent advice.  Oh, and would you be willing to do this again if
something like this comes up?" Schmidt asked, his attention solely on
Nick.

Nick nodded, then started away before the other man asked any other
questions, guiding Natalie in front of him.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (027/111)

Two nights later, Nick hesitated at the door to the conference room
shortly after arriving at the precinct.  That morning Janette had
dropped by his place and informed him that in two nights, now the
following night, the Raven would reopen to mortals.

While Janette hadn't outright asked for his opinion on the matter, he
knew she was concerned something could happen.  While not all mortals
would be allowed entry, there was no question that, if properly
prepared, a group of mortals could force their way inside.  It had
happened in other cities--most recently in Montreal--and the results
hadn't been pretty for either the mortals or vampires involved.

Trying to push away those thoughts, Nick rapped quickly on the door,
then cautiously opened it.  Seeing Schmidt was alone, Nick entered and
shut the door.

"Good evening, Detective.  Has Cohen--"

"No, but I have heard something you should probably be made aware of."
After only a slight pause, Nick stated, "The Raven is reopening to the
general public tomorrow night."

Schmidt frowned as he turned, clumsily rolling his chair around at the
unexpected statement.  "Is that wise?  I mean in Montreal--"

"I know what happened in Montreal.  So does Janette," Nick quickly
replied.  In Montreal a half-dozen strong group of mortals had forced
their way into a club much like the Raven after it had reopened.  Their
main weapons...two flame throwers.  There were two casualties on each
side, and the club had been severely damaged and temporarily closed for
some rather extensive repairs.  "But we haven't had the protests here
that they've had."

"Do you plan to be there?" Schmidt slowly asked.

"I haven't decided, but I probably should.  The crowd outside the Raven
usually backs off when they see a badge."

Schmidt fidgeted, then asked, "Will Dr. Lambert accompany you if you
go?"  Seeing Nick start slightly, he continued, "I know you're both off
tomorrow night, and she at least is a doctor, of a sort.  I don't know
if either of you would either feel it's safe or be willing to do so, but
it might be good to have both of you there, in case something happens."

Nick merely nodded.  Natalie had also suggested they go, for similar
reasons, but he was somewhat hesitant to officially agree.

"I think I should notify your captain of this."  Schmidt stood and
started for the door, then asked, "What time will the club be open
tomorrow?  Do you know?"

"From nine to one," Nick answered.  "But it may close earlier or later,
depending on how it goes."

"Well, if you decide to be there, I'd like to know--and I'm sure Cohen
would as well.  Can I tell her not to harass you for an answer, that
you'll notify me one way or the other?"

Nick winced, but nodded.  Cohen had been keeping a closer eye on him
ever since she had found the wounds on Natalie's neck.  As a result of
that, he wouldn't mind at all if Schmidt dealt with her so he could
avoid another half-yelled reminder to be careful.  "I'll let you know.
And I'll have to talk to Natalie first."

"Of course."  Schmidt left, and after a second Nick followed.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

The following evening a little after nine, Natalie drove them to the
Raven.  Nick was still a little unsure about Natalie coming, but she had
argued that if it seemed unsafe, he could ask Janette if she could stay
in the apartment.  Glancing over at Natalie, Nick worried whether he
should have driven, or maybe even flown them both nearby.  Natalie had
offered to drive them, and at the time, it had seemed like a good idea.

As Natalie pulled over to the curb down the street, Nick was surprised
to see a short line outside the doors.  But then he knew how one could
get in--any mortals had to be recognised or vouched for in some way.
That meant any mortals who came alone would be forced to wait outside.

Getting out, Nick waited for Natalie on the sidewalk, then they walked
slowly toward the Raven.  Like his previous visits, there were onlookers
on the other side of the street.  They didn't appear pleased at the
club's open doors, but they also seemed less confident.  For now they
were merely watching.

Nick put a hand possessively around Natalie's waist when he felt them
watching them.  Did they suspect what he was?  Then, reaching the door,
he pulled out his badge slightly after the vampire at the door admitted
them entry.  Once they entered, he heard one of the mortals still
waiting outside complain, "Hey, how'd he get in?"

Nick turned and flashed his badge at the mortal.  "With this.  I need to
speak to the owner," he added as an explanation, even though it was
surely a weak one.

To Natalie, the club felt different tonight, even though it reminded her
of the few times she had been in the club before vampires had been
outed.  The music was loud, the club lights were going, and the
bartender seemed quite busy.  "Nick," she whispered, tugging slightly on
his jacket, "How many--"

"About half and half," Nick answered.  He guided Natalie toward the bar
where Janette was sitting, a glass next to her on the counter.

"Hmm, Detective," Janette said, her tone a bit less serious than it had
been of late.  She even smiled at them.  "Red or white, Natalie?"

"Er," Natalie started, a bit surprised at both the vague question and
Janette's use of her first name.  Figuring they would stay for a while,
she answered, "Either is fine."  She watched the vampiress call the
bartender over and whispered something she couldn't hear.  Less than a
minute later, two wine glasses were set in front of them--both the same
rich shade of blood, although one was slightly more opaque.  She quietly
muttered, "Thanks," and took the one she figured was wine and took a
small sip to double check.  And it was.

Nick narrowed his eyes at his glass before picking it up.  He smelled
alcohol.  By his guess, it was nearly half wine.  "Janette--"

"I believe you are allowed to consume alcohol when you are not working,
oui?" she replied, her voice both slightly annoyed and almost playful.

"Yes," he answered, the corners of his mouth turning up into a slight
smile.  While technically neither of them were working, they really
shouldn't have much alcohol...in case something happened.  He hoped
neither of them would regret the wine.

After her brother had had some of his blood-wine, Janette turned her
attention back to Natalie, her eyes darting to the mortal's neck.  A
fresh and still fading scar was visible above Natalie's coat collar.
She could also make out bruises under the other woman's makeup.  No one
else would have noticed; Janette did only because she knew they were
there.

"Did you have any trouble before we got here?" Nick asked, taking a
large sip from his glass.

"No.  However, those across the street were not...pleased," Janette said
with a faint smile.

"And?" asked Natalie.

The smile vanished.  "And we told them that, if it bothers them, to
leave."

"I think they recognised me and Nick."

"Nicolas?"

"They recognised us.  I don't know if they could have guessed what I am
or not."

"They are harmless."  Seeing Natalie's concern, she continued, "They
dislike us, they taunt us and blame us at the slightest reason, but we
have...questioned them."

Nick took another large but forced swallow of the blood-wine; he
couldn't handle the mixed beverage as well as Janette, who was more than
accustomed to it.  "Janette--"

"We did nothing to harm them.  A few of us who do not come to the
Raven...befriended them.  Pretended to be interested
and...supportive...of why they were there.  They couldn't even discern
those of us in their midst."  She smiled, almost laughed at how well
their deceit had worked.  "They may think it a good idea, but none of
them have murdered any of us.  For now we consider them more of a
nuisance than a threat."  She set her glass down and moved around Nick,
pushing him gently back until his back came up against the counter.  She
moved to give him a kiss on the lips, but he turned his head and she
only got the corner of his mouth.  His action barely fazed her, and a
moment later she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Janette, you can't--" he started, trying to push her away, but she
clung to him.

"Three more of us have been found dead.  All quite young, like the
others," she whispered.

Nick closed his eyes, his protest about her actions forgotten.  Pulling
Janette a little closer, he let his head rest against hers.  He knew
Janette felt responsible for the younger vampires, and while a bit
annoyed about her action, he wasn't surprised that LaCroix hadn't told
him about this.

Natalie watched the two interact.  While she had heard what Janette had
told Nick, she still felt out of place.  She began to back away, but
stopped when Nick held out his glass to her.  She took it, and was a bit
surprised when he didn't pull Janette even closer, but instead pried her
off of him.

Holding Janette by her arms in front of him, he told her, "This is not
your fault."

"Do not talk to me about not blaming myself, Nicolas.  They were all
either coming to or leaving from the Raven when they were kidnapped or
attacked.  All were known to walk at least part way, and generally
alone.  Only Laurel and Bianca were--they both went missing at the same
time.  Bianca was found a day after you came here with the necklace."

"But they have been warned now, right?" asked Natalie.

Janette took her eyes off Nick and turned to the mortal.  "Yes.  And no
one has disappeared since."

"That's good, too, right?" Natalie again said.

"It's..."

"But no one has seen anything," Nick stated.  When Janette shook her
head, he pulled her close again, this time somewhat against her will.
"We'll find them eventually, Janette, I promise you."

"I'll rip their throats out myself if I get the chance..."  Her fingers
dug sharply into her brother's arm and back.

Nick didn't reply; he knew she would do precisely that.  Once Janette
relaxed, he took his glass back from Natalie.

Natalie took a sip from her glass as Nick did the same, and they both
cringed; each had mistakenly ended up with the other's glass.  Nick
noted her reaction and they switched glasses, at which she took a larger
sip of the wine to get the taste of blood out of her mouth.

"Nat?" Nick said, putting his newly returned glass on the counter.
Janette had released him when he had tensed.

"I'm okay, I think," Natalie answered, after taking another swig of her
wine.  "Just not at all what I was expecting."

"What is it?" Janette asked.

"I took Natalie's glass, and she ended up with mine," he said, wincing.

"The blood will not harm you," she quickly replied, turning her
attention to the mortal woman.

"But I'm not protected from any--" Natalie protested.

"It is disease free," the vampiress rephrased, cutting the other woman
off.

Natalie was a bit surprised at the quick reply.  "How did you know that
is what I was going to ask?"

"The Raven does cater to a few mortal blood drinkers," Janette said both
slowly and quietly.  "And it is tested by our supplier.  While not
advisable to drink a large quantity, even that would unlikely harm you
in any permanent way."

Natalie felt a bit better, but noticed Nick had as much of a look of
distaste on his face as she surely did.  "Nick?"

"Nicolas will also be fine.  It is easier for us to drink plain wine
than it is for a mortal to drink even a mix of blood and wine."  She
turned to her brother, then toward the door, where it appeared the young
mortals who had been waiting outside were arguing.  "I will return," she
said, leaving Nick and Natalie at the counter.

After a moment, Nick said, "Sorry about that.  I should have checked."

Natalie shook her head.  "No, I should have remembered which glass was
mine and stopped you from taking it."  She thought back to how it had
tasted and wondered how Nick could drink it--not her wine, but the wine
mixed with the blood.  "Which do you taste more?  The wine or the
blood?"

Nick had to consider a moment, then replied, "The wine."

"Then isn't it hard to drink?"

"It's--the blood makes--I can slightly taste the wine, rather than
merely the sharp hint of alcohol.  It's one of the few ways we can taste
anything.  It does take some getting used to, though, and I can only
handle so much of it."

"Hmm, yes.  LaCroix even adds honey to his; he will not and cannot drink
it if it's merely blood and wine," Janette said, returning and
shuddering slightly in disgust.  "I don't know how he stands it."

Natalie was shocked at that bit of information.  LaCroix, who disliked
anything connected to mortals, would drink a mix of honey, blood, and
wine?

"I cannot stand it, myself.  Nicolas, I believe, doesn't overly mind
it...or can at least tolerate it, and better than that," she finished,
gesturing to Nick's glass.

At this new bit of information, Natalie turned to Nick.  She could see
Janette's grin even after he averted his eyes.  He had never said
anything about this.  That he could drink small amounts of alcoholic
drinks such as wine, yes, but, "Nick..."

"It's not exactly food," he replied with his mischievous smile that had
been so rare lately.  "And it's not exactly something I've had often,
and never by my own choice.  LaCroix rarely drinks it around anyone,
including Janette and myself.  And it's still at least a third blood,
and at least I generally need plain blood after.  I didn't think you'd
approve, or consider that 'food'."

"Well," Natalie started.  He was right that she wouldn't have thought it
was food, not quite.  "All right, you're right," she confirmed.  Then
her eyes caught on the other side of the room.  The young mortals they
had passed when they entered had been allowed entry, apparently.  The
group appeared to have gained a couple of members, and most of them were
dressed in black and focused on Nick, Janette, and herself.  In fact,
when she scanned the club's patrons, she noticed that many were looking
their way.  Those who weren't, she suspected were vampires.  Those who
were, she realised, were probably looking at Janette.  She was, after
all, the owner, and had been tested first at the Raven.  The only better
known vampire in Toronto was undoubtedly LaCroix.  She abruptly turned
to Janette and asked, "Is LaCroix planning to come tonight?"

"He may or may not make an appearance around midnight," Janette
tentatively answered.  She picked up her glass.  "I will be upstairs.
If there are any issues--"

"I'll send Natalie up or have the bartender call you," Nick finished.

Natalie watched Janette quickly nod and leave, then she jumped slightly
feeling a hand on her waist.  When she saw it was Nick, she let him turn
her to face away from him and pull her back against him, his hands
wrapped comfortably around her waist, his cheek up against hers.  She
couldn't help but smile at his actions, and she closed her eyes.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (028/111)

Five nights later, things had once again settled down other than the
debates on the news about whether it was right to so easily accept
vampires, and whether vampires should even be considered human.  Those,
however, were nothing new, nor would they likely end anytime soon.  And
as Nick sat at his desk at the precinct, the chatter around him,
speculation on when something--specifically some sort of fight, attack,
or even an unprovoked bloodbath--might happen at the Raven grew night by
night.

The Raven, however, had had no issues with its reopening, not the first
night he and Natalie had been there, nor any night since.  Those who had
congregated outside the Raven at night had dissipated, and most nights
only a few stood outside at the beginning of the night.

There also hadn't been any more murders, not that that was much comfort.
Both he and Janette fully expected the mortals who had done it to try
again somehow.  So did Schanke, when he had eventually told his partner
about it.  Schmidt, however, hadn't been informed about any of the other
murders, seven in all.  Nor had Cohen.  They only knew of the two.

"Knight!"

Nick winced and saw his partner look up at him.  It was Cohen.  Again.
Nick stood and headed over to her office.  Schmidt was waiting, sitting
in a chair across from Cohen's desk.

"Sit down."

Nick hesitated, and once Cohen had shut the door, he asked, "What is
this about?"

"Schmidt will explain once you sit down," Cohen stated.  "I'm not too
thrilled with what he wants to ask you to volunteer for."

Nick faltered as he sat down at Cohen's comment.  "Volunteer for what?"
he asked, suspicious.

Schmidt winced.  "As you know, I'm known to have a...well, a cooperative
vampire within easy reach."  He held up his hands defensively.  "I
haven't advertised it, but with you it has made things different here in
Toronto, and others have noticed."

Nick glared at Schmidt for the description, and he repeated, "Volunteer
for what?"

"Well," Schmidt started again, "quite a few governments have been
researching your people's sources for blood."

Nick tensed.  This couldn't be good.  While there were some reputable
sources, a substantial amount of the blood was from unknowing volunteers
or even stolen.  But he also knew some mortals were forcibly drained of
their blood, and those mortals always died.  And he knew there were
still those who killed or fed directly from mortals, generally without
permission.

"Actually, they were digging into that before all of this started.  It
was one way we tracked vampires to certain establishments, and it was
quickly realised these were mainly bars or clubs."

"And you simply forgot to mention this?"

"I had wanted to get your opinion earlier, but honestly I thought the
idea was going to be dropped.  All in all, vampires aren't causing as
much harm as initially suspected.  But it has come up again, and we've
been asked to try and find volunteers to test blood substitutes."

Nick shook his head and stood up.  "It won't work.  It can't be done."

"But I know from files on you that you, at least, have lived on blood
that isn't human, correct?" Schmidt asked.  "At least at times, if not
possibly for decades?  This very likely wouldn't be much different."

"Again, I suggest you don't do this, Detective," Cohen stated.  "It is
your choice, but I am pleased Schmidt came to me first.  I can't,
however, stop him from asking or order you not to agree."

Nick started to pace, and wished he were in the conference room rather
than Cohen's office.  It wasn't that he wouldn't be willing to do this.
The idea of a blood substitute did appeal to him, but to be honest, he
wasn't sure he would ever go back to drinking cow's blood, and certainly
not right now with what was going on.  He felt far more in control
drinking human blood.  And nothing Natalie had come up with had been
edible--even though some of what she gave him was closer in nutrients to
human blood than cow's blood was.  Granted, vampires could substitute
animal blood for human blood for a time, or perhaps drink less blood,
but both made the vampire more dangerous.  And it simply wasn't what a
vampire's physiology really wanted.  He was glad for Cohen's opinion,
even if he didn't know her reasons.  Perhaps she didn't want him to get
ill, or have it affect his behaviour, or something.  Stopping near the
door, he simply whispered, "No.  Find someone else if you want a
volunteer."

"You don't have to decide now," Schmidt said.  "It wouldn't have to be a
long trial or the like.  Just maybe a few sips?  Think of it as
something along the lines of testing a new...cake mix or something."  He
winced.  "I'm sorry, bad example, but...  Point is, it can be a one-time
thing.  Just try it, give your opinion...and that's it.  You don't have
to do it again."

Nick again shook his head.  "I don't need time to decide.  I'm sorry,
but until human blood can be perfectly replicated in every way, it will
never work.  Technology and science simply haven't advanced far enough.
Not yet."

"Why do you think that?  Please, I really want to understand."

"I simply don't believe it's possible to make a feasible blood
substitute, not yet.  And it's not merely the appearance or taste, but
if it isn't filling and doesn't meet our nutritional needs...it could
have the opposite effect.  Rather than make vampires drink less human
blood and more of the substitute, they could...  Even if they weren't
normally violent, it's possible they could snap and kill someone out of
real or perceived need."

"And you wouldn't volunteer, even to--"

"Any opinion I would give would be biased.  Like I said, I don't believe
it can be done, not yet."  He paused, then added, "And if the long-term
plan is to provide an alternative source of...food...for us, you should
know some of my kind don't even...  There are some vampires who drink
animal blood instead, because that is what they require."

"You mean carouche?" Schmidt questioned, clearly surprised, but also
curious.

"Where did you learn that word?" Nick demanded as he walked up to
Schmidt and came to a halt.  "Where?"

"It, er, it was in the original information we received.  We had the
impression that they, these carouche, were somehow different and didn't
interact with, I guess, ordinary vampires.  Or humans, for that matter."

"What are carouche?" Cohen asked, drawing their attention to her.

Nick watched Schmidt look nervously his way, and wondered if this was
yet another thing that LaCroix knew about but hadn't divulged.  It also
made him wonder what else Schmidt was hiding.  He felt better that Cohen
didn't know.  "You answer," Nick instructed, "since you expected to know
more."

Again, nervously, Schmidt spoke, "It's--they're the same as regular
vampires, except they drink animal blood.  And then, again, they don't
really interact with others at all.  That's all I know."

"Knight, is that correct?"

"Mostly," Nick said with distaste.  "Carouche can also be vampiric
animals, which, fortunately, are extremely rare.  These often survive on
human blood.  They typically don't live long; they operate on pure
instinct.  We kill them when we come across them."  After a pause, he
asked Schmidt, "What other information have you been keeping to
yourself?"

"Nothing that I'm--"

"What about the video recording that would have been released if your
people hadn't revealed us in some manner within one month?" Nick asked.

Schmidt was completely flabbergasted, and he stood up and began to
stutter, "I...how do you...who...?"

"Or who gave you all that information on vampires in the first place?
And where did the blood samples come from?"  Nick and Schmidt were
facing each other, the latter backing up slightly.  "Haven't you ever
wondered how they obtained such extensive and precise information, never
mind the sizeable amount of vampire blood for all your demonstrations?"

Cohen also stood at this, her confusion and irritation increasing.
"What is this about a month to--"

"Someone gave his organisation all that information and the blood; they
didn't come by it on their own," Nick answered, his eyes on the verge of
gold.  "They weren't responsible for discovering that vampires were
real.  Someone else set this up, and I want to know who it was."

"While I'm curious, if you would like me to leave...?" Cohen asked,
taking a step toward the door.

"Stay," Nick intoned, the words nearly a command.

Cohen sat back down after a few moments, then instructed the other two
to do the same.

"What you mentioned--like you said, it's nothing we did," Schmidt
started.

"I know that," Nick said, his words still even and harsh, but not much
louder than a whisper.  "But I will not agree to anything further, nor
remain your cooperative, on-call vampire until you tell me everything
you know," he vowed.

Schmidt closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.  "If you know about
that, then you already know nearly everything I know.  And I have no
idea who it was that gave us the files and the blood.  The only thing
left is what I already asked you tonight.  That's it.  So if anything
else pops up, it'll be new to both of us."

Nick examined the other man and decided his initial assessment was
correct--Schmidt was being truthful, or was at least trying to be.
"What other terms do you know?  And where did you learn them?  I am
surprised that you hadn't known the phrase 'bringing one across', yet
you had heard of 'carouche'.  Even Natalie is unaware of the
carouche--even many vampires have probably not heard of them."

"They were--the term was included in the original material given to us,"
Schmidt answered again, his eyes darting to Cohen, who was watching them
intently, but not interfering.

"Along with the video recording?" Nick asked.  "You've seen it?"

He nodded.

"Are there any others--terms or videos?"

Schmidt looked away.  "Videos, no; just the one.  We know you refer to
those who are immune to your hypnotism as 'resistors'--which you had
also mentioned to me at the hospital.  We also know that normal humans
like myself are simply 'mortals' to you.  And you do refer to yourselves
as vampires."

"Anything else you know about us that isn't common knowledge?"

"I know how a vampire is created, how a vampire is br-brought across.
And that vampire blood is more effective for healing you than human
blood."

"Is that how you realised what I was?  Why you asked?  Because I let
LaCroix feed from me when he was attacked?"

Schmidt glanced at Cohen again.  She clearly now realised he had lied to
her before, but now she merely pursed her lips.  Turning back to Nick,
Schmidt nodded.  "Yes, that's why I asked."

"Did you tell Cohen to ask me if I had ever bitten Natalie?"

At this, Schmidt stiffened, but he answered, "Yes."

"Why?"  Nick considered making suggestions for his reason, but he didn't
want to taint the answer.

"I was concerned," he started after a long pause.  "Even though you
can't influence her in normal ways, I worried you could still do so
if--"

"If?"

"If you had taken her blood several times," Schmidt reluctantly
finished.  "There wasn't any information on that, beyond a brief note
that some of your kind do feed on humans repeatedly.  And I knew you two
were close.  Seemingly friends.  I only assumed--"  His eyes then darted
to Cohen.

"You assumed...what?" Nick asked, trying to keep Schmidt talking,
despite that he disliked the other man's line of thinking.

"I knew she had been staying at your place...and probably still is.  And
LaCroix is staying there too, isn't he?"

Nick didn't reply and merely waited for the other man to continue.

"I merely assumed you had been...intimate...somehow, even if only
through taking her blood.  I also got the impression you and Janette
were--actually, I didn't and still don't know if you are somehow...using
Dr. Lambert."  Schmidt flinched at the last, not sure how Nick would
react.

Now Cohen's expression hardened, much of this information new to her.
About the only thing she did know was that Natalie had stayed over at
Nick's sometimes, but not that she was practically living there, like it
sounded she might be.  But considering it, she couldn't remember the
last time she had talked to Natalie at her home number--it was always
the answering machine.  "Knight?"

Nick closed his eyes.  He didn't want to talk about this--certainly not
with Cohen.

"Knight, I would like an answer to that last one.  I don't expect you to
reply to any of the rest."

"I--"  A knock came from the door and Nick stopped speaking almost the
instant he started, thankful for the distraction.  Glancing behind him,
he found Natalie peeking through the blinds in the door.  He felt both
elated and nauseous when their gazes met through the glass.

"Come in," Cohen said loudly.

"Captain?" Natalie said once she opened the door.  Nick appeared to be
torn between fleeing, tearing out someone's throat, and trying to think
as fast as he could.  "I, ah, need to talk to Nick about something."

"Does this have to do with a case?"

Natalie nodded.  "The vampire murder case.  I realised something about
it and want to run it by Nick."

"Very well."  When both men stood, Cohen continued, her eyes on Schmidt,
"Not you.  I have some questions for you right now.  And Knight, I do
want an answer to that last question.  To me, not him."

Nick nodded, then took his chance and left.  The moment the door shut,
he felt Natalie pushing him toward the hall and finally into the
conference room Schmidt had more or less taken over.  "Nat--"

She closed the door.  "Nick, your eyes are almost gold.  You need to
calm down right now before--"

"What are you doing here?"

"Schanke called me.  He said he had a bad feeling when you were called
into the office."  She paused and watched him fidget, as if he wanted to
leave.  "What's wrong?  What were you talking about?"

First, Nick closed his eyes to try and calm himself and focus, but only
succeeded at the latter.  Then, as he paced back and forth across the
one end of the room, he explained everything they had talked about.  He
told Natalie what Schmidt had initially wanted to talk to him about, to
ask if he'd be willing to test blood substitutes.  Next he mentioned
Schmidt's slip with carouche, which he then had to explain to Natalie.
He explained the questions he himself had asked, the few answers he got,
and then Schmidt's concerns about the two of them.  Finally he stopped
walking and said, "When you knocked on the door, Cohen--she wanted to
know if I was...using you.  I'm glad you came when you did.  I wasn't
sure what--"

"Nick, you haven't used me," she said firmly.

"Yes, I have...in a way.  Not in the sense--"

Natalie put her fingers to his lips, stopping his protests.  "You
haven't used me."

He pulled her hand down.  "Nat, if you weren't staying at my place--"

"I'm staying at your place because you need and want me there, and
because you're my friend and I want to be there.  You could even feed
from me and it would still be my choice.  You are not forcing me to do
anything.  You are *not* using me."

He shook his head and closed his eyes again, at which she kissed him on
the lips.  It was quick, but the distraction calmed him...even with her
suggestion that he could feed from her and the emotions that triggered.

"And you certainly didn't force me to do that.  Or this."  She kissed
him again, this time deeper, forcing her tongue past his lips.  After
several seconds, she felt him respond and felt the sharp tips of his
fangs, then nothing when he tilted his head down so that only their
foreheads touched.  Then he pulled away from her.

Opening her eyes, Natalie found that while he had turned to the side and
stared away from her, she could still see the gold in his eyes and hints
of his fangs through his parted lips.  This was the first kiss they had
shared that wasn't merely platonic, an act of comfort, or while Nick had
been half asleep since the night he had practically flown out of the
morgue.  She was pleased to see that he hadn't done a repeat, so she
reached out and turned his face back to her.  For a second she saw how
much he had enjoyed the kiss, and even when he began to pull away, she
kissed him again.

This time he kissed her back immediately, his hands coming up to her
neck to pull her closer, and they slowly turned, switching places.  A
few seconds later, he pushed her up against the wall by the door, and
his hands went from Natalie's neck, down her arms and finally to her
waist under her coat.  Unconsciously, he started to untuck her
shirt...then froze when the door opened.

So did Natalie, and she saw a quick glance of Schmidt before the door
quickly closed again.  She closed her eyes and felt Nick rest his cheek
against her forehead for a moment before pulling back again.  His eyes
and canines were back to normal, and he now appeared shocked and upset.
"Nick?"

"He's probably telling Cohen," he said, his voice betraying a hint of
anger.

"I don't care."

"Nat--"

"Let him tell her whatever he wants.  At worst, we'll get a scolding
about, ah, not using the conference room as a...a broom closet, or
whatever."  Natalie's words stumbled at the last while she fixed her
shirt.  Glancing up, she saw him smile for a second.  It was a rather
sad and short smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Nick turned away and his thoughts began to return to their conversation
in Cohen's office.  Now that he was no longer pacing or distracted by
Natalie, his eyes caught on Schmidt's files, briefcase, and computer.
Frantically he started forward and started sifting through the various
papers.

"Nick?  What are you doing?"

"I want to know if there's anything else he knows."

"Wouldn't LaCroix--"

"I don't know what else was in the files Byron obtained, or even if
LaCroix does.  But I do know that LaCroix has been keeping things from
me...he has since the start of this.  There has to be something about
what Schmidt knows here somewhere."  Nick flipped through another file,
set it down haphazardly, then decided to start at the bottom file.  But
nothing.  It was all stuff they had seen before.  Then, he went to the
other man's briefcase and started to go through the papers in there.

Natalie decided to help.  She went for the bag Schmidt had brought the
night he, Cohen, and Schanke had come to the morgue.  Inside was mostly
just odds and ends--batteries, burnt vampire blood in test tubes,
another pair of the stronger handcuffs some of the detectives had--then
she saw a videotape.  The last she seized and noted a date almost four
months previous on the label.  It hadn't even been quite two months
since they had heard about this.  Standing up and turning around, she
found Nick intently reading something.  "Nick," she whispered, holding
the tape up.  When he didn't respond, she walked over to him and glanced
at the papers.  It was an interview of a nameless vampire.  It had been
highlighted in places, and she saw where 'carouche' had been highlighted
about halfway down the page it lay open to.  Prying her gaze away, she
touched Nick's arm and held the videotape above the papers.

Nick took it with his free hand.  For a second he thought it was from
the Raven, or perhaps it was the informational program they had been
shown.  But the date was prior to Schmidt's people learning about all of
this.  It had to be a copy of what those who started this had threatened
to broadcast...or maybe a video of the interview...something.  He stared
at it for a second, then handed both the tape and the multi-page
interview to Natalie and continued to search through the briefcase.

The door opened again, and Natalie found Schmidt, with Cohen not far
behind him.  Schmidt was pale, although she wasn't sure if it was
because of something Cohen had told him or what he had seen her and Nick
doing a few minutes ago.  Natalie put down what she was holding on the
table behind her as Cohen shut the door.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (029/111)

"Captain--" Natalie started, glancing at Nick, who was unabashedly
continuing to search through Schmidt's files.

"I'm not going to ask for an explanation for this," Cohen said, glaring
at her detective, who finally stopped what he was doing.  "I should, but
I suspect I'll get one at some point in the very near future for both
what you're doing now, and what Schmidt saw a few minutes ago."

Natalie looked down and blushed slightly.  Schmidt had indeed told Cohen
what he had seen.

"While you two were in here, I had a bit of a chat with our friend," she
turned to Schmidt, who winced.  "I've made it clear to him that you,"
she emphasised the last word, turning to Nick, "don't like nor will
tolerate being kept in the dark, and he agreed to show you everything he
was given."

"Everything?" Nick asked.

Schmidt tensed, but nodded.  "I see you've already found--"

"A tape and an interview," he finished.  He turned to Cohen.  "Will he
be allowed to pick and choose, or may Natalie and I search through
everything ourselves to ensure nothing is left out?"

"Go ahead.  Search.  I have no objections," answered Schmidt.  While
Nick continued to go through his things, Schmidt continued, "It wasn't
intentional.  I'm sure you haven't told me everything you could have,
either. "

As Nick ignored Schmidt's last comment, he found a transcript of another
interview and handed it to Natalie.  "How many are there?"

"There are two interviews, the tape, and a sheet summing up anything in
the interviews that wasn't on the sheet you were given about vampires'
abilities.  That's all."

Nick continued to search and, as Schmidt had said, after half an hour,
the only additional item they had found was the summary sheet; they
hadn't found so much as a stray sheet of either the summary sheet or
either of the interviews.

"Satisfied?" Schmidt asked, a hint of annoyance creeping in.

"Yes," Nick answered.  "What else did they tell you?"

"Nothing useful."  Seeing Nick glare at him, Schmidt added, "Just
instructions.  They also had a research division set up where I worked,
but that was months ago.  I was an--"

"You were an original employee of the foundation," Nick finished.  "I
know."

"Yes.  We didn't know then and in fact we still don't know who dropped
this off, although we figure it's--"

"The government," Nick whispered.

"Most likely, based on how they seem to have planned so far ahead.  It's
like they had somehow set things in motion, then simply waited to be
able to act...and not only in one region of the world.  But that's only
a guess."

Nick gathered up the two transcripts and the summary paper and gave them
to Natalie.  "Make copies of these."

Natalie nodded and, avoiding Schmidt's gaze, left the room.  Neither
Schmidt nor Cohen stopped her, although the former became a bit nervous.

"I'm sure you'd rather I take a copy than keep yours, correct?" Nick
asked.

"Yes."  Glancing to the door, Schmidt asked, "You've already made copies
of everything else, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Now," Cohen started, "Has Schmidt been satisfactorily honest with you?"

"For now."

"Is there anything *you've* left out, Detective?" she now pointedly
asked of Nick.

He looked down.  If Schmidt were not to withhold information in the
future, he knew he had to give him something in exchange.  "The murder
on that roof was not one of two," Nick answered.  "It was one of seven."

"Seven?" Schmidt asked, his incredulity breaking the tension between
them.  "Seven total?"

"Yes.  And besides that, several vampires, I'm not sure how many, have
taken their own lives as a direct result of this mess.  Your lists
surely have names on them that can be crossed off."

"Several, in general, or several just in Toronto?" Schmidt asked, colour
once again draining from his face.

"Here in Toronto."  Nick turned and picked the videotape up off the
table and held it in front of him.  "I already know what's supposedly on
this, but I want to see it."

"What is on this tape?" Cohen asked more of Schmidt than her detective,
then the door opened and Natalie re-entered the room.

Natalie paused as the others all turned to her, then she shut the door
and walked over to Nick, handing him the originals.

"Mr. Schmidt...what is--"

"Two vampires, ah, blatantly murdering several of us, mortals," Schmidt
explained to Cohen.  "It's quite brutal.  Or to me it is.  I'm not sure
how it compares to other murders."

"Put it in," Nick said, walking over to Schmidt and handing the tape to
him.

Schmidt glanced toward Natalie, and then Cohen, on whom his gaze
settled.  He did not move toward the television and VCR on the cart
across the room.

"Put it in," Nick repeated, his voice a touch deeper than before.

"First lock the door," Schmidt said in a strained whisper.

Nick wasted no time and walked past both Cohen and Natalie to lock the
door, at which Schmidt started to the television that had been
haphazardly rolled into the corner.  He pulled it out, turned it on, put
the tape in, then after watching the first few seconds to make sure it
was in the right spot, he stood and flipped the lights off in the room.
Finally, he started the tape.

At the beginning of the recording, there was some commotion--laughter
and good-nights shouted in French to two couples who had apparently
parted with whoever held the camera.  One of the women turned around and
waved, then when the camera started to move away, two additional
figures, one male and one female, both dressed in black, descended on
the four from the sky, landing agilely behind them.  Neither figure
faltered as they transitioned from flying to walking, although they only
took a couple of steps each before attacking.  With one swift movement,
the male vampire broke the neck of one of the men they had landed near.

Someone near the camera seemed to ask a question, but in the next split
second, the female vampire ripped the throat of one of the women with
her bare hands.  Now that there were only two mortals left, each went
for one of the remaining mortals.  The woman instantly sunk her fangs
into the woman's male friend.  The man flew after the woman who had
started to run away, but within seconds she was seized from behind and
also drained.

The camera moved closer toward the vampires, and Nick, Natalie, and
Cohen all realised that that person holding the camera had started
walking, then running toward what was happening.  A woman screamed and a
man started shouting.  In an instant, the two mortals were released, the
two figures vanished into thin air, and the camera abruptly fell.  The
last image was the hem of a black trenchcoat before the tape abruptly
ended.

Schmidt turned the lights back on and stopped the tape, then stated, "In
total, six people were killed.  The four seen on the video, the man who
recorded this, and a woman who was standing with him."

Nick closed his eyes.  This was worse than he had expected.  He hadn't
known six had died.  But why hadn't the vampires simply taken the
camera?  They had to have seen it.  And if another mortal had arrived,
preventing that, why did they leave, rather than simply kill them as
well?  But what his mind kept thinking about was how the woman had
ripped through the other woman's throat with her nails.  It struck him
as completely barbaric--even more so than if she had done the same with
her fangs, or had broken the woman's neck like the man had done to his
first victim.

Natalie hadn't moved, and in fact seemed slightly less stunned than
Nick.  She had jumped slightly at the abrupt end.  Like Nick, she
thought only four had died and hadn't been expecting the sheer brutality
of the attack.  But everything she saw was merely something she had at
one time or another imagined Nick or another vampire having done, some
of which she had literally seen, either in dreams or in person.  She was
most reminded of how LaCroix had drained Nick soon after recovering and
the pain she had seen on Nick's face before he had passed out.

Cohen stood there, utterly stunned.  Her only other example of what a
vampire could do was the recording of the meeting between LaCroix and
Beranger--and that had been a very different situation.  True, she knew
they could fly, could move extremely fast and were stronger than normal
humans, but she hadn't imagined they could practically disappear, or
kill that many people in what she was sure couldn't be much more than a
minute...if that.  When Schmidt turned off the television, rewound and
ejected the tape, Cohen unconsciously moved toward the door and away
from Nick.

"Like I said, it's...well, brutal and seemingly random," Schmidt said
and set the tape on the table, causing all of them to back away from it
slightly.

"I doubt it was entirely random," Nick corrected, and Schmidt and Cohen
looked toward him.  Natalie kept her gaze on the blank screen.  "Or at
least not as random as it appears.  They were obviously being watched
for several minutes.  And they ignored those watching, so they knew they
were there.  They deliberately waited until the group split up to
strike."

"You've done something like that before," Cohen stated.  It wasn't a
question, but a realisation.

"Not quite like that," Nick reluctantly replied.  "But, yes, I've...I've
killed in a vaguely similar manner in the past," he admitted, his
dislike for talking about this hardening his tone.  "Overall it is a
good example of how we kill and exactly how inhuman vampires can be.
Killing that many is, however, unusual, especially when
unnecessary--when the vampires are not somehow cornered or injured."

Schmidt approached the others, his attention on Nick.  Eventually, he
asked, "Something about that disgusts you, doesn't it?"

"The entire tape disgusts me."  He closed his eyes, wishing the mortal
wasn't staring straight at him.  "But the woman's method of killing her
first victim was...  Even when I've been out of control, I don't think
I've ever used my hands to...  It's barbaric; what she did," he finally
said, shaking his head back and forth slowly.

"What do you mean, 'out of control'?" Cohen asked.

At this, Natalie turned to Nick.  She knew he had so far kept much of
his personal past to himself.  Neither Cohen nor Schmidt knew how their
friendship had started--Nick's desire for mortality.  She hadn't spoken
to Nick about that lately, but suspected his quest had been put at least
semi-permanently on hold.  But her questions about his past,
particularly his attempts at drinking less blood, meant she had an idea
what Nick was now probably turning over in his mind, weighing how much
to say.

Finally, he opened his eyes and met Cohen's gaze.

"Detective?"

"I'm sorry, but no.  I won't answer that.  I might at some point...but
not yet."  He shook his head and looked away.  He didn't want to
remember what atrocities he had committed, or how many he had killed for
either no reason or on a whim.

Cohen watched her detective, and more questions started to form.
Exactly how fast could vampires move?  How easily could they kill?  The
sterile information from the reports she'd been given no longer
sufficed.  True, LaCroix had landed on the rooftop, shown a touch of
extra speed and strength when he had killed Beranger, and again flown to
leave, but in the tape Schmidt had, they had acted almost imperceptibly
fast.  But the lighting in the video was admittedly dim.  So was the
video from Beranger's attack on LaCroix.  Could vampires really move
like that?  "Nick?"

He tenuously glanced up at her use of his first name.  Cohen almost
never used it, and when she did, she did so with a reason.

"To my knowledge, I've never seen you use any of your...abilities.  I'm
curious--can you really move as fast as those on that tape?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to demonstrate?"

"Demonstrate...what?" he suspiciously asked.

"How fast a vampire can kill someone."  Cohen watched her detective, and
for a moment thought he would refuse--which she would have understood.
But then she watched his features become a touch darker right before he
nodded.

Nick turned to Natalie, then moved closer to her to whisper in her ear,
"Nat, would--"

"Of course," she answered.  She had a general idea what he planned to
do, so she moved over near the corner across from the door while Nick
headed to the opposite end of the same side of the room.

Cohen and Schmidt remained near the door, and didn't have a chance to
ask when the demonstration would begin.  They merely saw Nick nod,
barely saw Natalie answer him with one of her own, then to their eyes,
Nick nearly vanished, moving in a blur across the room to where Natalie
stood facing him.  In another split-second, he had taken his voluntary
victim and turned her, pulling her back against him, then pushed her
head to the side.  He stopped with his fangs mere millimetres from her
neck.

Schmidt stepped back quickly until he slammed into the wall.  Not only
was this the first time he had seen a vampire close up in a brightly lit
room, but also it was the first time he had seen Nick changed.  Despite
his abject fear, Schmidt couldn't tear his eyes away from the vampire's
fangs so close to drawing blood or the golden eyes that now gazed at
him.

Cohen had held her ground, but she had become stiff.  After having seen
the tape, she wasn't remotely surprised that Nick could do this.  Not
really.  She was more surprised by Natalie's complacency.  "You've used
what you are on the job," she surmised.

"Yes," he answered, although he could tell by Cohen's tone and heart
rate she didn't need any confirmation.  Allowing his appearance to
return to normal, he loosened his grip on Natalie and moved his hands to
her waist.  Then he found he had to close his eyes when his hunger rose.
It had already been taunted in Cohen's office by all the questions about
blood, then again by Natalie's kisses and her offer to let him take her
blood, and even further by what he had just done.  "Many times," he
added, opening his eyes and looking squarely at Cohen.  "Probably too
often."

"But not every time it could have been useful."

"No.  I've had to be careful."

For a moment, no one spoke.  Then Cohen nodded in response to Nick's
previous comment.  "I do still want an answer to that one...question.
From earlier."

Nick took several seconds to remember what she meant; it was the
question about whether he was using Natalie.  He stiffened.  He had
hoped Cohen had forgotten about that.  "Your answer is no," he said
simply, averting his gaze.

Again Cohen nodded.  "Knight, you and Schmidt may go over those
transcripts--the interviews--and if you are willing and Schmidt allows
it, I'd also be interested in seeing them...but later."

Continuing to look away, Nick gave a quick jerk of his head in
affirmation.

"Dr. Lambert, I'd like to speak with you before you return to work...if
you have time."

Natalie turned toward Nick, at which his hands dropped away and she
started toward Cohen and the door.  "Of course.  Now's fine."  Following
Cohen out of the conference room, she gave Nick a quick glance before
the door shut, only to see that he had tensed again.  She trailed behind
Cohen on the way back to her office, making Cohen wait at the door until
she had entered.

Shutting the door, Cohen went to sit behind her desk.  "Sit, Natalie.  I
have a few questions for you.  You can choose not to answer any or all
of them, if you wish.  And you should know that the questions are of a
rather personal nature."

Natalie had started toward one of the chairs facing the captain's desk,
but faltered at Cohen's last sentence.  She had a good idea why the
other woman wanted to talk to her.  While it appeared she would have the
option not to answer, she hoped that Cohen might treat Nick with less
suspicion if she did.  When the Captain didn't start asking her
questions, she stated, "This is about Nick...and me."

"Yes."  Cohen closed her eyes for a moment, then guessed, "Knight has
done that to you before, hasn't he?  His demonstration."

Natalie swallowed.  That wasn't quite the first question she had been
expecting, but she knew she had barely reacted to what Nick had done,
beyond the feeling of adrenaline telling her to flee or fight--neither
of which she had done.  Her only reaction probably would have been
silent, momentary panic that would have faded almost instantly once her
trust that Nick wouldn't hurt her overrode her instinct to react.

"Or something similar?"

At the additional question, Natalie merely answered, "Something
similar."  Nick had done exactly that a couple of times as a
demonstration soon after they had met, in an attempt to instil fear of
him in her and remind her that he was not her friend, that he was
dangerous.  It hadn't worked.  In a way, it had only made her trust him
more.

"Schmidt informed me of what he walked in on," Cohen slowly commented
after a long pause.

"And?" Natalie asked, locking gazes with the other woman.  She
remembered what she had told Nick, that she didn't care, and she felt
her jaw tense with a hint of anger.

"And I don't know exactly how close your relationship is, or what
relationships between humans and vampires are like, but I want to make
sure you are fully aware of any dangers that might put you in.  Which,
again, I don't know what those might be, but I can guess."

"For example, that I could wind up dead without warning?" she suggested,
her tone harsh and even.

"Is that a possibility?" Cohen asked tentatively, her voice quieter than
before.

"I'm sure it could happen," she answered, keeping her expression plain.
"Or I could end up brought across.  Or nothing might happen to me at
all."

"And bitten?"

Natalie had skipped that one--bitten but not killed or brought
across--because she suspected it would invite other more personal
questions.  "Or bitten, yes."  She glanced away, but then seeing the
other start to ask, she added,  "And, no, Nick hasn't bitten me.  Not
yet, anyway."

"Not yet?"

"And, again, even that might not ever happen," Natalie finished,
speaking a little louder.  Her reply, however, was a lie; she knew it
would happen.  In fact, she was already considering asking Nick to take
her blood, perhaps even that morning or the next.  She'd rather have
that happen under semi-controlled circumstances than at random.
"And...and I've told him it's okay if he does."

Now Cohen was concerned, and she leaned forward in her chair, "Doctor--"

"Whatever happens will happen, Captain.  I understand the risks, *far*
more than you.  And I know a lot about Nick's past."  Again looking
straight at Cohen, she continued, "And if he kills me or I end up as a
vampire myself due to his actions, I don't want him to be blamed."

"If he kills you, he will be--"

"No," she said, the word trembling slightly with emotion.

"Natalie, he will--"

"No, he won't," she whispered, but it was enough to cut Cohen off again.
"Or very likely won't.  I really don't know what he'd do, but if he
doesn't simply vanish, I don't want him blamed.  If I have to put that
in writing, I will."

"If you think something might happen, that might be a good idea...but it
may not be enough.  There's no way to know unless--"

"I know.  I just...I don't want you to think he's a bad person if
something happens to me."

Taking in a slow, deep breath, Cohen leaned back in her chair.  "I don't
plan to ask you about this again.  It's your personal life, and his
personal life.  Just...I don't want to hear about someone walking in on
you two here at the precinct, regardless of what you might be doing.
And you'd be getting this part of the lecture, even without the...other
issues."

At that, Natalie blushed slightly.  She doubted it would happen again;
not at the precinct, anyway.

"You may go.  Unless you have any questions?"

Natalie had started to stand the instant she was told she could leave,
but at the last, she asked, "Are you going to ask Nick about any of
this?"

"I wasn't planning to.  I only wanted to make sure you had thought
things through, which I see you have."

Stiffly nodding, Natalie skirted around her chair and left the office.
Nick was apparently still in the conference room.  Seeing Schanke
watching her anxiously, she approached to bring him up to speed on what
his partner was doing.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (030/111)

The rest of the night, Natalie's thoughts had run wild about what she
would say to Nick when she got to his place that morning.  Should she
first ask about the transcripts, or instead mention what she had told
him...assuming he even remembered.  At the time, his attention had
shifted so quickly she wasn't sure if what she had said and done had had
time to sink in.

When Nick's shift was supposed to be over, Natalie left work, even
though she still had more than an hour to go.  She could make it up some
other night, and for the moment she was caught up.  LaCroix had the
annoying habit of leaving the loft shortly after Nick left for work and
returning shortly before she arrived at Nick's...so that each of them
would be alone for a short time, but when they were both there, so was
LaCroix.  She wanted to talk to Nick alone, without the other vampire's
constant watching...and listening.

Arriving at Nick's place and riding up in the elevator, she was pleased
to find him sitting alone on the sofa with a nearly full glass of blood
in his hands.  The glass appeared untouched, and she wondered if he had
just sat down as she arrived.

"Nat?  Are you okay?  Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong.  I simply came home early so we could talk...just
the two of us."  Walking over to the kitchen to get rid of her coat and
purse, she slowly approached him.  "I didn't get to ask you about those
transcripts earlier--the interviews from Schmidt's briefcase."

"Schmidt thinks they were done under duress.  And I agreed.  They didn't
have much more information beyond what I already told you, although it
covers most everything else that they now know."  He paused and drank
nearly half his glass.  "He's as frustrated with this as we are."

"Are you still upset that he didn't tell you what he knew earlier?"

"Yes.  But I don't blame him for it, either."

"Because of the tape."

He nodded, not looking over at Natalie, even when she sat down next to
him.  "I gave him more information about the murders, and mentioned that
they've stopped for the moment."

"And his reaction was...what?"

"He wants me to keep him in the loop.  I couldn't promise that, not
with--"  He drank the rest of his glass in two long drinks.  "I didn't
tell him about that--that I was a bit behind on getting all of the
details myself."

"Did you talk to Cohen?" she asked, curious and a bit concerned.  If he
had, did Cohen mention her...and them?

"Sort of.  I gave her a copy of the interviews and asked her not to show
them to anyone else."  He set his glass down next to the bottle on the
coffee table and turned toward Natalie.  "What did she talk to you
about?"

Natalie tensed.  "Us."  Seeing him subconsciously mirror her, she
continued, "She wanted to make sure I understood the risks of being in a
relationship with you.  I told her I did.  I know it's not any of her
business, but I didn't think it was a good idea to let her keep worrying
about us."  She smiled, hoping it would help both of them relax.  "And
she also mentioned about not wanting to hear any more about others
walking in on us."

Nick winced and dropped his gaze.

"Which, by the way, did that get out after I left?"

"No."

She watched him became even more tense, and he simply stared at the
bottle of blood.  "Nick, do you remember what I said?"

"That...that if I fed from you, it's...fine," he answered, although the
last word was forced.

"I meant it.  You can take my blood if you want."

"I don't--"

"Don't try to tell me you don't want it.  I know better than that."

Nick snatched the bottle off the table, refilled his glass, and took a
large draught of the blood.  He didn't set the bottle back on the table,
but gripped it tightly.

"Nick?"

Finishing off his glass, he refilled it again before answering, "I
can't, Nat.  I could--"

"Didn't you taste my blood the day you--"

"No."  He shook his head vigorously, as if the alternative disgusted
him.  "No, I didn't *taste* it.  I wiped it off.  There wasn't enough
left after that to do anything but make me want more blood in general."

"Nick--"

"If I taste your blood and--you might have to leave.  Not right then,
but you might not be able to stay here during the day anymore.  It might
even be dangerous for me to be near you at work.  And that's assuming I
don't end up taking too much."

When Nick looked right at her, she could see the panic deep in his gaze.
He wanted her to stay; he didn't want to risk endangering her.  "You're
okay with me here all the time, even sleeping next to me.  I'm sure that
must be, well, rather tempting, especially at...certain times."  At
this, she watched his eyes quickly dart away.  He drank more from his
glass, although whether to calm his nerves or because simply talking
about this was tempting him--or possibly embarrassing him--she couldn't
tell.  "But wouldn't that mean you'd be okay with it?"

"I don't know, Nat.  I honestly don't know.  Past experience says I
wouldn't, that I'd probably kill you, but I don't know.  This is,
admittedly, a bit different.  It's been a long time since I've fed from
anyone I truly care about, but whenever I have, things have
gone...badly."

"But if I stay, you'll eventually bite me, yes?  I mean, eventually, in
weeks or months, either I'll accidentally..."  She trailed off, seeing
his eyes close into tight slits.  He didn't want to hear her spell it
out, but his action at least confirmed her guess.  Standing, Natalie
went back to her purse and pulled out the still sealed scalpel she had
placed there on her lunch break.  Keeping it out of view, she returned
to the sofa and resumed her seat.  "You wouldn't necessarily have to
bite me, you know."

"To taste your blood, I would--"

She held up the scalpel in answer to his protest.  "And if you had just
a small taste, you'd have a better idea how you might react."

"Just a taste might be worse, Nat."

"But with a smaller amount, you could perhaps more easily tell me to
leave, if need be," Natalie suggested.  "Please...think about it."
Setting the scalpel on the coffee table, she took Nick's arm and pulled
him back to lean against the cushions.  He allowed it, and for several
minutes they simply sat there, each leaning slightly into the other,
Nick sipping periodically from his glass.

Eventually he downed the rest of the contents, refilled it, then leaned
forward and set both the bottle and glass on the coffee table.  "Now."

"What?" she asked, and she too moved to the edge of the sofa.
"Now...what?"

"You're right.  I'll eventually--might as well--now is as good a time as
any."

"Nick..." she started, a bit surprised by the speed of his decision.
She had expected he'd need to think about it for at least a few days,
not mere minutes.

"I don't want LaCroix here," he said, a dark tone tingeing his words.

At that, she nodded.  That was undoubtedly why he had decided so
abruptly--for the same reason she had come there early to bring the idea
up to him, because right now LaCroix wasn't there, and neither of them
knew when it would be just the two of them again.  She had to admit she
didn't particularly want LaCroix there, either.  She was a bit surprised
when Nick picked the scalpel up off the table and slowly removed the
sterile wrapper.  "Do you want me to do it?" she offered.

"Yes," he answered, and immediately held it out to her, his gold-flecked
eyes not meeting hers.

"Where?"

"It doesn't matter.  Somewhere you won't mind possibly scarring, I
suppose," he said, looking up.

Natalie merely nodded.  She would possibly scar, depending on how deeply
she cut.  The small scratches on her neck hadn't scarred, but they had
been quite shallow.  Thinking a moment, she eventually took off her
jacket and set it on the arm of the sofa.  The upper part of her forearm
would be fine.  It was out of the way for the time it would take to
heal, and she was pale enough that a scar there wouldn't be too
noticeable.  "How deep?  How much do you want it to bleed?"

"Something more than a paper cut, but not so deep that it would bleed
too much on its own."

"Okay," Natalie started.  "Let me know when you're ready."

Nick closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of everything except
Natalie and the glass of blood on the coffee table.  Not wanting LaCroix
to arrive while they were doing this, he opened his eyes, stared right
into Natalie's, and nodded.

At his response, Natalie held her arm up and brought the scalpel right
next to her skin.  She hesitated before slicing into the underside of
her forearm, then clenched her jaw at the stabbing pain.  The cut was
neither a scratch nor life threatening, but she immediately started to
bleed.

Nick's eyes flared amber the instant the scalpel cut Natalie's skin, and
he held back only until she moved the blade away and glanced up at him.
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm forcibly forward and up, closer to
him.  Much like she had done with the scalpel, he hesitated right before
his lips touched her skin.  When her blood began to trickle from the
wound, he captured it, savouring those first tantalising drops of pure
ecstasy.

Natalie fought the urge to close her eyes when Nick first licked the
crimson fluid that tried to drip down her arm, and then the wound
itself.  She felt the tips of his fangs carefully brush her skin as he
gently sucked on the wound, drawing more blood from it.  At this, she
did close her eyes, the sensation so peculiar, her pain vanishing at his
action.

When he stopped and placed one soft kiss over her wound, Natalie
reopened her eyes to find golden eyes staring hungrily at her, even
after he released her arm and licked her blood from his lips.
Unconsciously she leaned forward, and found herself both pleased and
slightly frightened when Nick did so as well and their lips met.  He
kissed her as deeply as she had him at the precinct.  Even the metallic
taste of her own blood, while a bit unsettling, didn't bother her as
much as she had expected.

As they kissed, Nick found it difficult not to slice her tongue with his
fangs to get more of the warm, sweet ambrosia.  The taste had been too
much, and he pulled back, his lips brushing against her cheek and chin
before he pushed her harshly back and away from him.

In an instant Natalie saw him desperately drinking from the glass he had
poured earlier, his eyes shut tight, his fangs visible, despite that he
had turned away.  "Nick?" she said, gently touching his shoulder.  "Are
you okay?"

The mere touch was more than he could handle for now,  He moved away and
took yet another deep swallow from his glass.  "Please, no," he
muttered, not looking at her.

Not sure what he meant, Natalie asked, "Nick, do I need to go?"

He abruptly looked up and his eyes melted from gold to a light,
grey-blue.  His fangs, too, retracted.  The overwhelming hunger he had
felt when he had kissed her had vanished at the thought she might leave,
even though he had believed she might need to.  He could still taste and
smell her sweet blood, but he no longer felt like he had to have more
right that instant.

"Nick?"  She tentatively put her hand on his arm, and this time he
didn't push her away.  "Are you okay?" she repeated.

"Yeah, I'm--"  His gaze slowly shifted toward the table and the bottle
of blood, but stopped when he spotted her wound.  It wasn't bleeding
much, but it did take him a second to look back to her and remember her
question.  "I think I'm okay.  I wasn't sure for a moment."  Then his
attention shifted back to the wound and he became pained as he told her,
"I'm sorry--"

"Nick, it's--"

"I'm sorry, I don't have anything to cover it," he started again and
finished.  "I don't have any bandages here."

At this, Natalie chuckled.  "I noticed that a few days ago, so I
restocked your supply.  I have larger ones in my purse, though.  The
scalpel wasn't the only thing I brought."  She grinned, pleased at her
own forethought.

Nick's gaze now turned to the scalpel, which was still in Natalie's
right hand.  The blade was smeared with her blood, and this time he had
to look away while his thoughts flashed on her deftly slicing her own
skin, and the first precious drops of her blood, her essence, that he
had tasted.

He was brought back to the present when Natalie stood and started toward
her purse.  Standing, he walked up behind her and snaked his arms around
her waist, pulling her back into him, and let the side of his face rest
against hers.

Natalie nearly jumped at his action, but when he simply held her, she
continued digging through her purse for one of the bandages that seemed
to have buried themselves.  The wound on her arm was starting to sting,
and without a bandage, the ointment wouldn't have much chance in staying
put.  Finally spying them in the very bottom corner, she pulled one
out...then found she couldn't move.  His grip was rock solid.  "Nick, if
I'm going to get this cleaned up and covered before LaCroix gets here, I
need to be able to move."

His arms dropped and he backed away immediately at Natalie's mention of
LaCroix.  He nodded even though she couldn't see him.  "I'll see if I
can find you a shirt."

Natalie turned to ask him why she would need one, only to find he had
literally vanished and flown up to his room.  And then it hit her--all
of her t-shirts had short sleeves, and the wound and bandage on her arm
would be clearly visible to LaCroix.  While she figured LaCroix would be
able to smell her wound, even with it bandaged, having it at least out
of sight would be nice.

Regaining her focus, Natalie went into the bathroom, placed the large
square packaged bandage on the counter, and fiddled in the drawer for
the ointment again, which she placed next to the bandage.  She winced
upon examining the injury for the first time.  It wasn't overly deep,
but blood had welled up in it again.  Cleaning the wound, she flinched
when it stung from the water and soap, then even more when she dried it.
Only once she had slathered the wound with ointment and covered it with
the bandage, did it finally stop demanding her immediate attention.

She turned and gasped upon finding Nick standing right outside the
doorway, a clean, black, long-sleeved t-shirt in his hands.  He hadn't
shown up in the mirror--at all--and the fact that he sometimes
didn't--but especially lately--had slipped her mind.  "Sorry," she said,
taking the shirt and shutting the door on his amused smile.  He seemed
to be acting a tad odd, but if Nick's improved mood was his reaction to
tasting her blood, she would give him however much he wanted or would
take.

She went ahead and changed into the long-sleeved t-shirt and some purple
leggings for bed, even though it was rather early.  Opening the door,
she found him still leaning against the corner of the door frame,
looking almost...tipsy.  And just the way he stared at her made her
double-check that she had indeed changed clothes, rather than simply
taken them off.

Seeing Natalie blush, he muttered, "Sorry," walked over to the kitchen
table, picked up his glass, and drank what remained in it.

Following him, Natalie noticed he had moved not only his glass and
bottle, but he also had moved her jacket over by her coat.  So he hadn't
merely stood and waited outside the door.

She went to the refrigerator and tried to decide what she wanted to eat.
It would either be something simple, or leftovers.  Once a week she had
been going by her apartment and fixing something so she wouldn't have to
actually cook very often.  She knew from the past that Nick wasn't
overly fond of the smell of food cooking, and from a few looks LaCroix
had given her, it was clear he didn't like it, either.  Eventually,
noticing Nick watching her every action, she grabbed a bowl that she had
put cut up chicken, rice, and vegetables in, added a bit of water, then
put it in the microwave.

While waiting, Natalie turned and found Nick's previous good mood had
dissipated somewhat.  "How do you feel?"  At the question, she watched
it drop even further.

"I don't know," he answered, turning back to the table.  He took the
bottle of blood and poured what little remained into his glass.  Picking
the glass up, however, he hesitated before taking a drink from it.  "I
feel...a bit different."

Natalie watched him and noticed his complexion had brightened a little.
And his more casual mood was new, especially when compared to lately.
Right now he also appeared a bit jittery or nervous.  But was any or all
of that from her blood, fresh blood, or from the sheer quantity of blood
he had drunk since returning home from work?  And whatever it was, she
suspected the effect would be temporary.  When her food dinged, she
ignored it and asked, "Different, how?"

"It's nothing," Nick quickly replied and downed the half-full glass in
one long draught.

"Is it caused by my blood in particular, or because it was, ah, straight
from the source?"

"The latter, I think."  He turned toward the microwave where Natalie's
food sat waiting.  "You should eat.  Regain--"

"I feel fine, Nick.  I don't feel any different than when I got here,
beyond being a bit hungrier, and it's earlier than I usually get home,
so..."  Natalie watched his lips tweak into a smile, then she went and
retrieved her bowl and a fork.  After sprinkling some parmesan cheese on
her meal, she sat at the table, only to find Nick sitting across from
her when she started to take a bite.  Seemingly fascinated by her every
move, he stared at her, and his attention didn't drift the entire time
she ate.  Usually he didn't watch her eat--it bothered him, like the
smell of cooked food did.  Right now, however, he wasn't bothered one
iota.  Trying not to stare back, she finished her meal, then took her
fork and bowl to the sink and washed them.

Turning back, she startled slightly upon seeing LaCroix standing not far
behind Nick.  His eyes were narrowed slightly at them, as if he sensed
something was wrong but couldn't figure out what it was.  Yet.  She knew
he would eventually realise what they'd done.  "I came home early," she
supplied.

"Clearly."  LaCroix examined the mortal for several seconds.  She seemed
different.  So did his son.  Turning to the second, he asked, "Now,
where are the transcriptions of the interviews you mentioned earlier?"

Both Natalie and Nick relaxed slightly at his change of topic, and he
retrieved the copies she had made, explaining most of what had happened
at the precinct--except the bits pertaining Natalie and himself.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (031/111)

"Come on, Knight, I know something's up," Schanke said as he and Nick
were on their way to the morgue two nights later.

Nick glanced at his partner, taking his eyes off the road longer than
Schanke was comfortable with.  He had asked him the same question the
previous night too, but apparently, now that they were out of the
precinct, he felt the need to ask again.  While he was glad for the
relative silence, he almost wished they had waited for Natalie to come
by.  But, no, they had volunteered to go over there instead.

"*Something* is up.  You're never this quiet unless I'm right," Schanke
tried again, but his partner continued to stare at the road...and had
sped up a little.  "Come on, say *something*."  Another pause.  "Nick?"

He again glanced at his partner and grimaced.  "I told you last
night--it's nothing."  Perhaps they should have stayed at the precinct,
but everything there was caught up.  They hadn't had many new cases
lately; ever since vampires had been revealed, homicides had gone down.
Suicides were slightly up, but those were generally much faster to wrap
up once it was determined to be a suicide.  Natalie had the bulk of the
work to do on those.  In fact, they had had one early the previous
morning and that was why they were now going to the morgue.

"If it really was nothing, you'd spill it...'cause there wouldn't be
anything to spill.  It's got something to do with Natalie, doesn't it?"

Nick's hands clenched on the wheel, but he didn't answer.

"Fine.  I'll ask Natalie, then."  Schanke looked over at his partner a
couple of times, hoping the other man might finally answer.  Nothing.
His partner was stiff as a statue.  "Come on, Knight.  It's like you're
off your diet or on some super drug or something."  Then, realising that
might not be all that far off, Schanke paled.  "Wait, you haven't been,
you know..."  He struggled for a polite way to say it, then gave up,
"You haven't been drinking right from...*people*, have you?"

Nick turned into the morgue parking lot a bit sharper than usual, and
the Caddy protested when the back wheel scraped the side of the curb.

"Wait, you have?!" Schanke exclaimed, although his voice wasn't much
louder than before.  He thought some more, but he couldn't think of any
other humans his partner was around regularly, other than himself.
"Natalie," he whispered.  "Is she--"

"Just--don't, Schanke."

"But she's okay, right?"  Then, worried that Nick would take his meaning
wrong, he clarified, "I mean she's all right.  You didn't--"

"She's fine, Schanke.  And, no, I didn't--I didn't even actually bite
her."  He added the last in an attempt to clarify things.  "It was only
the one time, and it wasn't much blood."  He got out and started inside,
certain that Schanke would drop their conversation once within earshot
of Natalie.

"But--hey, wait up, Knight!"

Nick was inside and on his way to Autopsy before Schanke could ask
another question or make a show of concern.  True to his guess, his
mortal partner immediately went quiet when they found Natalie at her
desk.

"You two could have waited, you know," she said, signing and dating a
form.  "I was about to make some deliveries."

"Nah.  Knight's going nuts trapped at his desk."  Schanke looked Natalie
over, trying to find anything wrong with her.  If anything, she seemed
like Nick--in a slightly better, happier, more enthusiastic mood than
usual.

"And?" Natalie asked, standing and going to retrieve a report.

"And so am I, really.  Hate to say it, but a messy, vampire-free double
or triple homicide would be nice about now.  Not that I want anyone to
die."  Schanke then caught a glare from his partner.  "And it's not like
any scene we go to will actually be vampire-free, but a nice, normal
murder scene would be a change, wouldn't it?  Something that isn't all
paperwork?"

"Here you go," Natalie said, giving the report on their latest case, a
suicide, to Nick, then pulled out another one.  "And you could drop this
one off, too, so I don't have to go by later.  It's Briggs'."

"They got anything interesting?" Schanke asked, approaching to try to
get a peek at it.

"Not unless you count that he hung himself with an actual noose made out
of rope."

"Better than a gunshot to the temple."

"Thought you wanted something messy, Skank," Nick pointed out.

Schanke glanced to his partner and shrugged.  "Messy in the sense that I
don't want to walk in and know *immediately* that they guy offed himself
and exactly *how* and maybe even *why*."

Nick winced at that.  Their own scene was sealed with a handwritten note
and letter to give to the victim's brother.  He still hadn't taken the
other detective's report from Natalie.

"It'd be nice to have to actually try and figure out what happened, for
a change," Schanke continued.  "You know...put some effort into it.
Give the old grey matter a workout.  Something with more driving, more
souvlaki, maybe...  You know, I'm down five kilos since this all
started.  Myra's thrilled, but--"

"Skank, if you want to get something to eat--"

"Nah, just thinking."

"Well," Natalie interrupted, the report still in her hand.  "Either take
it, or I'll be home that much later," she said with a sly smile.

Nick's attention drifted to Natalie, and he returned the smile, which
intensified as he slid the second report under their own.  The idea of
Natalie getting home earlier than she would have otherwise pleased him
more than he thought it would.

"Good," she said then turned, feeling herself blush from her hand
touching Nick's.

Schanke noticed the awkward exchange, and shifted his weight
uncomfortably.

"Here," Nick said, handing the reports to his partner.  "I'll be out in
a couple."

Schanke hesitated, but when his partner's eyes continued to bore into
him, he left, giving one last glance to each of them.

"What's with him?" Natalie asked.

"He's noticed I've been a bit...off the past couple of days."  He
averted his eyes, but his grin didn't vanish.  "He figured it out.  Said
I seemed to be on some super drug or something, then guessed I might
have had some...fresh blood."

"And, of course, it had to be mine," she stated, the extra colour
draining out of her face.  "What was his reaction?"  She watched him
tense.

"He...asked if you were okay."

"And?"

"And that's about when we got here."

Watching Nick's smile start to return, she approached him and jabbed him
lightly in the chest.  "Cut that out."

"Maybe I don't want to," he replied, closing the distance between them
and kissing Natalie on the lips.  After tasting her blood, he found
being away from her excruciating.  Oddly enough, it hadn't made it any
more difficult to sleep in the same room.  Or it hadn't the last two
days, which didn't help dampen his mood, but only made him more pleased.

Natalie startled slightly at the kiss, then was actually disappointed
when he quickly stepped back and his grin returned full force.

"I need to go before Schanke comes back in."  Nick walked backward
toward the door, then left...only to run smack into his partner, who had
waited in the hall, rather than back at the car.  Nick hadn't been
paying attention, and with this, his smile vanished in a flash and he
started back outside.

Once back in the Caddy, Schanke said, "I heard what you said."

"And?" he asked, the word curt and stiff and uttered the moment the
engine started up.

"And if you were any other guy, you'd spill it."  Schanke had matched
his partner's tone, then flinched at how it sounded.  "Or, well, you
would if you didn't work with each other...and me.  A blind man could
see that the two of you are definitely more than 'just friends', and you
only get this weird when something is serious."  He tried to read his
partner's expression, but all he got was more silent stiffness.  "Look,
I just don't want either of you to get hurt, and--"

"Either of us, or just Natalie?" Nick asked once he had pulled out onto
the road, again pushing the Caddy more forcefully than usual.

"*Both* of you."

"And would that still be your answer if I fed from her for real?  Or
what if I took too much and made her weak enough that she couldn't come
to work...or worse?"

Schanke froze and felt a bit ill at the last words of both questions.
"I'm not sure what you mean by the first," he started, then realised his
partner's tone had turned at his other comment.  "And you wouldn't be
too thrilled with the second yourself, right?"

Nick didn't answer, nor did he take his eyes off the road.  His hands
did tighten around the steering wheel again, however, and the Caddy
weaved a bit as he stiffly jerked it whenever he got too far toward one
side of the lane.

For Schanke, however, Nick's silence might as well have been a straight
answer: He was right.  "I might not be as automatically thrilled as I
would be if, er--"

"If I were mortal."

Schanke winced.  "Right, but I'd about bet that if anything happened to
Natalie and you had anything to do with it, you'd be just as torn up
about it as I would be.  Probably more."  Finally, he glanced over at
the other man, but still couldn't read his expression.  "And, Nick,
honestly, I kinda expected something like this since she's been pretty
much living at your place.  After all, doesn't the blood thing kinda go
with...you know?  And, I don't know...maybe it's a bit too personal, or
at the very least something you're not used to sharing, Mr.
Not-The-Sharing-Type, but I do like to know what's up...even if it's
just vague, and maybe not even quite the truth.  I mean, I don't need or
want to know every detail, but...if it's something big, I'd rather not
have to guess.  And, great, you probably think *I'm* nuts now with my
big runaway mouth, but just think about what I said, all right?"

"Are you going to tell Cohen?"

Schanke was slightly caught off guard by the question.  "Why would I?
It's not against the law.  Besides, I saw Cohen chew you two out
already, I think--when Nat was wearing that scarf.  I thought then that
you had already bitten her..."

"No.  That was just a scratch.  An accident."

"But you will, eventually, right?"

At this, Nick turned toward his partner.  "Yes."

Schanke absently nodded.  Seeing his partner prepare to explain, he
said, "You don't have to say anything else.  Not if you don't want to.
I just want you to know that you don't have to keep everything to
yourself.  You can use me as a sounding board if you want or need to.  I
know I do that to you with things--like with Myra.  And Jenny."

Nick's frustration started to melt away.  Schanke wasn't criticising
him, or even overly worried, like he had initially thought.  His mortal
partner trusted him more than Cohen or Schmidt did.  Or perhaps even
more than he himself did.  "Thanks.  But don't expect me to volunteer
much.  I'm just not used to sharing, not that there would be much more
to tell, anyway."

Schanke turned upon hearing his partner's tone return to what he usually
used when he was being sarcastic or completely serious.  Arriving back
at the precinct, Nick pulled their report from his hands, leaving him
with the one for Briggs to deliver to the day shift detective's desk.
"Great.  Thanks, partner," he yelled after Nick.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (032/111)

Three nights later, Nick and Schanke were in the Caddy, but not on the
way to the morgue...or even a crime scene.  They had been out, more or
less killing time, when Dispatch called for officers to respond to some
sort of disturbance at the University of Toronto.  They had been in the
general vicinity, and responded.

Shots had been fired and, according to reports from campus security,
someone was shooting at a group of students with a gun, possibly
including at least one rifle...and a crossbow.  At least one student had
been hit, although it wasn't clear by which weapon or in what condition
they were in.  Or whether the victims were mortals, vampires, or a mix
of both.  Where they were exactly on the campus at the time was also
unknown.  It didn't help that the university wasn't in the 96th's
jurisdiction, so the detectives didn't know their way around the campus
to begin with.  Schanke wasn't at all pleased by that.  Nick wasn't
concerned.  He knew he could find them if need be.

After Nick pulled the Caddy up next to a squad car, they quickly
conferred with the two uniformed officers.  They had also just arrived,
and had gotten updated information, including at least the general
location of the disturbance.

After the two uniformed officers started ahead, he told Schanke, "I'll
be back," and then, before his partner could reply, he vanished.

Nick had done as he suspected he might need to--he flew up above the
buildings and pinpointed the students' location by sound.  And, once he
got closer, by smell.  At least one of them had been hit, their blood
sharp and sweet in the cool night air.  Spotting the students, four
mortals and one vampire, from the rooftop of a nearby building, he saw
them hurriedly moving between the buildings.  They were being guided by
one of the women in the group--the sole vampire.

She, of course, would know exactly where the shooter or shooters were
aiming from.  He was surprised she had stayed, but then if she left, one
or more of the others would likely die.  Closing his eyes, he sensed at
least two or three mortals nearby, following the students.  There were
possibly more--it was difficult to tell which nearby mortals were armed
and which weren't.  But those hunting had split up, which unfortunately
meant that even with the other vampire's help, they alone wouldn't be
able to detain these mortals without presenting another easier target
for the other shooter.  For a second her gaze met his, and he left the
rooftop.

Less than a minute later, Nick found his partner and landed behind him.
"Schanke."

Schanke spun, startled and now nearly off-balance, but before he could
proclaim his annoyance, Nick started describing what he had seen and
where the students were and were headed.  By then others were arriving,
and Schanke made it a point to tell them...even though they wondered
exactly how he had come by this new information.  He pointedly left out
any questionable details.  When they then heard more shots fired, that
put an end to any questions about where his information had come from.

It was a bit more difficult than usual, mainly because of the maze of
buildings, but within minutes other officers arrived.  After that, it
had been fairly simple to corner and detain three armed mortals.  While
the trio blatantly wanted to kill vampires and didn't appear too
concerned about killing other humans in the process, they lost their
nerve at the thought of killing cops.

Two of the three mortals had guns loaded with wooden bullets, and the
third, a woman, also had a crossbow, as well as a quiver of bolts with
wooden shafts and razor-tipped steel hunting points.  Another discovery
was that the group of targeted students had actually started out as six.
There had been another vampire, but all they had found of him were his
clothes, belongings, and one of the crossbow bolts.  It was exactly like
the murder scenes, except the bolt must have reached its likely real
target and done the sun's work on the young vampire.  Nick had been a
bit rougher than strictly necessary with the woman he and Schanke had
arrested after discovering that, but she merely softly laughed at them,
her eyes firmly on Nick the whole time.

The wounded students included the female vampire--who appeared to be a
mere sixteen or seventeen years old, and rather nondescript--and two of
the mortals.  All had bullet wounds, and all were luckily non-serious.
Seeing them up close, Nick realised this group of victims was the same
group of mortals who had been forced to wait outside the Raven the night
the club had reopened.  The vampiress, in better condition than her
friends, wished to leave.  Between her injury, the mortals' fresh blood
calling to her, and the fear and distress of those around her, she was
getting understandably jittery.

Nick noticed, and upon spying Schmidt as he and Schanke were taking one
of the handcuffed suspects toward the others, he left the man with
Schanke.  He explained to Schmidt in hushed tones more of what had
happened, and they both approached the young vampiress, who had moved
off to the side.  "I'm Detective Knight, Metro Homicide, and this is Mr.
Schmidt.  He knows what I am," he told her, nodding his head toward
Schmidt at the last.

Faltering at that, Schmidt tried to look friendly, but before he could
speak, she cut him off.

"I think there is another one still out there," she hissed quietly,
changing.  "Another hunter."

Nick tensed and started scanning the shadows around them.

"I can hear--their heart sounds familiar, and they have been watching
all this time."

Nick couldn't pick out the mortal.  There were too many cops and curious
students nearby attracted to the commotion.  He reached out a hand for
her arm and pulled her forward to lead her back toward the main activity
where she would be safer.  "Come with us."

"Nick--"

"It's not safe for her here," he said in a whisper.  "And I can't tell
where the other one could be hiding."

As they walked away, back toward the way Nick had come, the vampiress
whispered to Nick, "He's behind us, I think.  Somewhere behind us.
And...he's following."

Nick turned his head, but just as he spotted a man barely in his line of
sight, something ripped into his chest from behind.  It was another
crossbow bolt, and it had stabbed into him right above his heart.  It
didn't burn or even hurt as much as he expected, but he did feel
suddenly weak and fell to his knees with a gasp.

The next minute was utter chaos.  The vampiress took to the sky, too
scared for her life to remain any longer.  After falling to his knees,
Nick fell forward onto his hands, then crumpled face down onto the
pavement.  Schmidt called to the other officers nearby, pointing them in
the direction the bolt had come from.

As Schmidt went to help Nick, rolling him more onto his side, one of the
officers came up to them.  The young man's face quickly turned from
concern to instant fear upon seeing the fallen detective's golden eyes,
and he changed directions, stumbling before turning around and running
away.

Nick closed his eyes and the pain finally came.  He could barely breathe
and tasted his own blood in his mouth.  He tried to tell Schmidt to
remove the bolt, but he found himself unable to speak.  All he could do
was lie there and hope the mortal would either know what to do, or that
Natalie would get there soon.  Or even Schanke...not that he thought
Schanke would manage to actually do anything but stare.

At that thought, Nick reopened his eyes.  He could hear yelling in the
background--apparently the mortal who had shot him.  The man didn't
sound pleased, nor did those who arrested him, who were furious that he
had apparently killed one of them, a fellow police officer.  They,
apparently, hadn't yet realised what he was.  They didn't know that he
would be fine.  He would heal in minutes or hours, once the accursed
wood was removed.

Nick jerked slightly, feeling a hand touch his neck.  Out of the corner
of his eye, he could see a paramedic kneeling behind him.  He had to
suppress his laughter, although it merely made him hurt more and made
him suddenly wish for fresh air.  The man was checking to see if he was
alive, if he had a pulse...something he didn't have at the best of
times.

As the man noticed his eyes were open and not any normal colour, the
mortal backed away upon realising he was a vampire, his hands raised.
It was clear they had no idea what to do with an injured vampire.  The
man turned to the second paramedic, a woman.

"I think it should be removed," Schmidt said, gesturing to the bolt of
wood.

The female paramedic pushed her stunned partner out of the way and knelt
behind Nick.  She shook her head after examining where it entered and
exited; to do the latter, she had to unbutton his shirt.  "Looks like it
pierced his aorta.  Straight through.  Take it out and he'll bleed
to--actually, I don't know what will happen in this case.  And I have no
idea how to help him."

Nick closed his eyes again and tried to speak, but again he failed.
Even trying to swallow the blood merely caused it to pool in the back of
his throat.  The most he could manage was a barely audible moan.  Then,
at the edge of his senses, he heard his partner curse.  He also heard
what he thought was Natalie gasping, and opened his eyes a few seconds
before she knelt in front of him.  Had that much time passed already?
Or had much time passed at all?

"Nick?" she asked, reaching forward to touch his face.  Seeing his eyes
shift and focus fully on her, her panicked expression softened to
concern.

He managed to move slightly, just enough so that he could move one of
his hands slightly forward.  He again closed his eyes when he felt
Natalie take his hand and squeeze it, which he weakly returned.

Natalie examined him much like the paramedic had, but she focused on the
area around the bolt.  It had only just begun to exit, a silver, shiny
tip protruding from his chest, and a short length of wood protruded from
his back.  It hadn't gone through in the best place, but it could have
been worse.  Had it gone through his heart, Nick would have been killed.
And he was still weak, not even able to speak.  "This needs to come out
*now*."

No one moved.  Or, more precisely, neither of the paramedics budged even
slightly.  Schanke and Schmidt looked like they wanted to help, but the
two paramedics would need to move to make room for someone else to
remove the bolt.

"Who are you?" the female paramedic asked after a few seconds.  "Are
you--?"

"Dr. Lambert," Natalie answered, leaving off her full job title.

"Then you should know--"

Natalie glared at the woman.  "Trust me--I know a *lot* more about this
than you do, and I'm telling you it needs to come out right now," she
repeated.  "It's not going to kill him."

Nonplussed, the woman continued, "But in this kind of situation, it's
better to relocate the--"

"Either remove it or get out of the way so someone else can!" Natalie
finally snapped at the two paramedics, her patience at an end.  When
neither budged, she added in an even harsher tone, "Oh, for Pete's sake,
he's not going to rip your throat out."

Her words finally triggered the two into moving.  The man again knelt,
and after a bit of hesitation, asked nervously what she wanted him to
do.  Since she couldn't see the full tip of the bolt, she told him to
push it a little further in.  He hesitated, but after she explained
why--to reduce further injuries as it was pulled out backward--he tried
to gently do as requested.  She winced when Nick weakly gasped and the
wound started to ooze blood, but at least now she could actually do
something to help him.  The bolt was fairly standard and, telling the
medic to hold the bolt in place, she covered the sharp, arrow-like tip
with fabric from Nick's shirt and unscrewed it.

She relaxed a little seeing the metal cap; it had no splinters that
could make the wound worse.  "Now pull it out," she instructed.  The
paramedic asked if it needed to be done in any particular way.  After
she told him no, simply repeating that it needed to be removed, now, and
that doing so wouldn't kill him, he grabbed hold of the end of the bolt
with his gloved hands and pulled.

The bolt slid free surprisingly easily to those who watched, and Nick
felt more pain now that it was gone.  He was bleeding profusely and,
within seconds, he lost consciousness as his body shut completely down
to heal the wound.

"Will he be all right?" Schmidt asked after initially backing up, then
reversing and stepping toward Natalie.

She looked up and noticed how many others had approached, now that the
injured vampire was no longer conscious...and therefore no longer a
threat.  The crime scene itself had come to a complete halt.  All she
could do was nod in response to Schmidt's question, her eyes focused on
Nick's blood-stained shirt and the large pool of blood beneath him.  The
bright red blotches stood out on his light, linen-white shirt.
"Schanke?"

Schanke started.  He had frozen in shock upon seeing Nick lying there,
effectively staked, even before his partner finally passed out from
blood loss.  Seeing that Natalie wanted him to move closer, Schanke did
so, although he slowed when he got close enough to see his partner's
face, blood staining his lips and the side of his face.  Nick looked
even worse than most of their usual victims...and those were already
dead.  He forced his eyes away from Nick and toward Natalie as he bent
down slightly.

"Can you do something about...them?" she whispered, jerking her head
behind her to those who had approached.  "And," she started again, when
Schanke straightened, forcing him to lean over again, "when you
finish...come back here."

After Schanke hurried off, the female paramedic asked, "Is there
anything we can do for him, or should we go ahead and take the others to
the hospital?"

"I'll be fine with this.  There's nothing you can do unless you happen
to have some extra blood you can spare somewhere on that truck of
yours...and I seriously doubt you do."

The woman hesitantly shook her head, as if she didn't really know or was
still a bit too shocked to give a real answer, and she and her partner,
both still a bit nervous, left the scene.

"Is there anything I can do--for you or for him?" Schmidt asked, his
voice barely more than a whisper.

"I don't know yet.  Maybe."  Natalie didn't look up from Nick.  She
wasn't sure whether they should move him, if she should have Schmidt or
Schanke get the bottle of blood from her car, or simply wait.  She hoped
her guess that Nick would be in control at least long enough to make it
to her car would prove right.  It was bad enough that the news of what
he was had likely already spread throughout the Toronto PD.  She didn't
want to add the spectacle of seeing him drinking from a bottle of blood
to it if she could help it.

Watching, Natalie touched Nick's face, brushing his hair back on the one
side.  He didn't move.  She pulled his shirt away from the exit wound.
It had mostly healed, the skin there free of blood.  The blood on his
face, however, remained where it was.

Natalie jumped when she found Schmidt holding a crisp handkerchief out
to her.  "Thanks," she muttered, taking it.  She hesitated before wiping
the blood away, then, when she started moving her hand forward, she saw
his eyes open, burning bright, and he jerked slightly, as if trying to
sit up.

Panic rushed through Nick as he shifted position and the memory of what
had happened rushed back to him.  He had been 'killed' in view of other
people, specifically in view of his co-workers, who had thought he was
mortal.  They knew the truth now.  And they also knew that he had
deceived and lied to them.

He felt warm hands on his arm and face, and fought against them as he
sat up.  Then his eyes locked on Natalie when she again touched his
face, this time with a piece of cloth.  He could smell his own blood,
and it made his hunger suddenly swell and his eyes shift to Natalie's
neck before he shut them tight and turned his head away.

"Nick, are you all right?" she whispered and tried to get him to look at
her again, putting her palm to his cheek and guiding him back to face
her.

At first Nick pulled away.  Then he started to shake slightly, and moved
even closer until he leaned his face against hers.  The warmth of her
skin both calmed him, making him forget about the other heartbeats
nearby, and exacerbated his hunger.

Natalie nearly pulled away, feeling Nick's cold blood on her face and
even her lips.  After a few seconds, though, she felt him relax and let
him hold her.  It felt oddly nice, but she could feel her heart pounding
faster just thinking about who might be watching.  Abruptly she felt
Nick turn, and he kissed her.  His blood was cool and sweet, not salty
or metallic tasting, and she found she didn't want to push him away.
Just as suddenly as he had kissed her, he was gone and she opened her
eyes.

Nick had backed away, half in fear.  His eyes still burned gold, and he
wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket.  "I'm sorry," he
whispered, then took the handkerchief in Natalie's hand and, with the
clean portions, cleaned his blood off Natalie's face.  "I didn't--"  He
instantly forced himself to stop, his need for blood flaring once more.
He glanced around and found distant eyes on him.  Schanke was
approaching, and Schmidt stood a little way off, talking on his cell
phone.  He could hear Cohen's voice on the other end of the phone, as
well as the dreaded whispers about him from all around...  All of his
senses were amplified by his incessant need for blood.  He needed to
leave before his control slipped.

Standing, Natalie held out her hand to him, but he had zoned out.
"Nick?"

His attention snapped to Natalie, his vision still an amber haze.  After
a few seconds, he took the offered hand and let her help him stand.  He
didn't release the warm flesh.  He couldn't.  Then he felt that hand
unerringly pull him toward her.

"Come on, Nick.  I'll take you home."  Getting a nod, Natalie tried to
smile at him reassuringly, then started pulling him toward her car.

"Dr. Lambert?"

Natalie spun; it was Schmidt.

"Captain Cohen wants to talk to Knight...if he's up to it."

Turning back to Nick, Natalie found him stiff and staring idly ahead.
"Nick?"

"Sure," he mumbled, not turning.

Schmidt passed his phone to Natalie, who then gave it to Nick.  She
didn't release the phone, however; his grip felt too weak and light, as
if it might fail at any moment.

"Captain?" he said.

"Are you okay?  You've probably guessed this by now, but the news about
what happened and what you are has filtered back--"

"I'm not okay yet, but I will be...soon," he said, his voice a bit
stronger, more confident.

"Are you going home or coming back to the precinct?"

Nick hesitated.  He needed blood--now--and he certainly couldn't get it
at the precinct.  If he went home for it, LaCroix would probably keep
him there, yet he couldn't go to the Raven for a bottle or two, either,
not in his current state.  There was, however, blood at the morgue, but
his shirt...

"Knight?"

Natalie took the phone, seeing Nick zone out again.  "Captain?"

"Dr. Lambert?  Will Knight be coming back in?"

"Er, I don't know yet."

"I'd guess he would prefer going home, but it might be good for him to
come back to the precinct, if he feels up to it.  Even if it's only a
few minutes; it might help dispel some of the rumours being tossed
around, especially those that say he's been killed."

Natalie winced.  She could imagine some of the questions the others had,
and the assumptions and accusations they were undoubtedly making about
Nick.  They all knew, of course, that he was one of the first to be let
in on this, yet he had managed to keep his own secret from them all this
time.  "I'll talk to him.  If he doesn't come back in, I'll call or come
by."

"If he comes in, will he be coming back with Schanke or with you?" Cohen
asked.

"Ah, me, probably."

There was a pause, then, "Take care, Doctor.  And don't let him come
back in unless he's really up to it--physically and mentally."

Natalie nodded to herself.  "I won't."  She hung up and handed the phone
back to Schmidt.  She didn't wait to see him redial before going back to
Nick, again taking his hand and pulling him slowly toward her car.  It
wasn't that far from his, and there were thankfully very few people
nearby.

"Nat, I can't go to the precinct like this," he protested and she
stopped guiding him forward.

"No, you can't," she agreed.  "But I did take some precautions that
might change your mind."  She opened the passenger side door and backed
him up until he sat on the edge of the seat.  "Take off your jacket and
that shirt."  She headed back to the trunk, unlocked it, and pulled out
a bottle.  Taking it back to Nick, she found he had not moved--but he
did when he saw the bottle.

Nick's vision flared red and he snatched the bottle out of Natalie's
hands, uncorked it, and drank the blood as quickly as the small opening
would allow.  It relaxed him and he felt his strength start to return
almost immediately.

"After what happened to LaCroix, I decided to keep one on hand for
emergencies.  And," she said, going back to the trunk and returning with
a black shirt in her hands, "I've got a couple of other things for you
as well."

Nick lowered the bottle, his eyes now a deep, shocked blue.  He stared
at the shirt and remembered what Natalie had said earlier, while she
pulled the bottle from his hands and set it on the pavement.  He closed
his eyes upon feeling her warmth so near his skin as she unbuttoned the
rest of his shirt.  Then she helped him out of his jacket, holster, and
finally the blood-soaked shirt.

Natalie was pleased to find that his skin was clean, other than one
small spot on his neck, which she cleaned with a dry part of his
discarded shirt.  Since he was so jittery and kept either tensing or
attempting to push her away, she shoved the clean black dress shirt into
his hands, took a step back, and worked on cleaning the blood that was
now on her hands.  She ended up having to take her coat off as well.
It, too, had gotten blood-stained, probably from when Nick had held her.
Her clothes, luckily, had been spared.

He smirked at the shirt's colour, or lack thereof, as he pulled it on
and buttoned it up.  "I'm not sure walking in wearing all black is much
better than the blood, though."

Natalie smiled warmly in return, happy to hear him speak more than a
couple of words at once.  "It's definitely better than this," she said,
holding his other shirt up, then wrapped it with his jacket.

Nick flinched away.  He knew he had passed out from blood loss, but he
hadn't actually looked at his tattered shirt until now.

"I figured you wouldn't miss the black one, since you don't wear it
often.  And now I understand why some of you guys don't wear anything
but black."

Nick slid back into his holster, then reached over for the bottle again.

When he lowered the bottle, now half empty, she asked, "How do you
feel?"

"Better," he mumbled.  "But if I'm going back to the precinct, I'll
still need more than this."

Natalie watched him hold up the bottle and nodded.  "Well, then, you can
get a new shirt since you dislike that one so much."  She tried to keep
her tone bright, but Nick shook his head in reply and stiffened.

"No.  It'll have to be from the morgue; and we won't stay.  I don't want
to deal with LaCroix, not right now."

Natalie set her jaw and nodded.  "I'm going to find Schanke."

Nick also nodded, then watched Natalie hesitantly leave him.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (033/111)

When Natalie hadn't returned after several minutes, Nick put the now
empty bottle on the floor in front of the passenger side seat and tucked
in his shirt.  Then he closed his door and the trunk and started back to
the scene.  It wasn't particularly what he wanted to do, but it was a
chance to see how his co-workers might treat him at the precinct.

Approaching, he felt many sets of eyes turn to him.  It was easier to
tune out the whispers now than before, but now he could also discern
what they were saying.  Some were concerned, others frightened.  He
didn't know which sentiment he disliked more.

Coming up silently--unintentionally so--behind Natalie and Schanke, he
whispered, "Nat?"

She jumped a little, but swivelled to face him.  "Nick, I'm sorry, I
keep getting--"

"It's okay," he said through gritted teeth.

One of the officers in the distance was whispering to one of the others,
wondering if Nick was safe to be around after what had happened.  The
other officer agreed with his concern and uncertainty.

At that, Nick decided he would stay and not leave the scene until
Schanke did.  "Just bring me up to speed, Schanke."

For the next twenty minutes, they remained in the general area.  Nick,
Schanke, and Natalie stayed together in one group--Nick working with
Schanke to question a few witnesses who had seen what had happened, and
Natalie tagging along, out of concern for Nick.

Eventually Schanke left, and Nick stayed with Natalie while she and the
forensics crew removed the dead vampire's ashes.  He had managed to
ignore any comments by others until that point, but seeing the remains
put him on-guard and made him nervous.

"So, you're one of them," the forensics guy said offhand, deliberately
avoiding the vampire's gaze, instead keeping his eyes on his task while
he helped Natalie.  "I always thought you were a bit off."

Nick tensed somewhat, then even further when Natalie stopped working.

"Guess you slipped through somehow.  Hoodwinked us all."

"Nick didn't do any hoodwinking, and it's okay to look at him, James.
He's not going to hypnotise you or something," Natalie said, standing.
"Think you can get the rest?" she asked, her tone sharp.

James didn't answer beyond a faint wince and his heart drumming a bit
harder and faster.

In a couple of minutes, Nick and Natalie walked back to her car.  It,
the coroner's van, and a squad car were all that remained.  Getting in,
he retrieved the bottle, only to find it was empty.  He had forgotten he
had already finished it.

"Morgue?" Natalie asked, and getting a nod, she pulled her seatbelt on
and they drove silently.  In fact, they didn't speak a word until they
reached the morgue, then Nick simply asked her to bring him three units
of blood.  He didn't go in with her, either.

She returned to the car minutes later with the blood and something to
put the soon to be empty bags in until she could return them to the
morgue later.  He drank one in the parking lot there at the morgue, then
he asked her to start the car and head for the precinct.  She did,
reluctantly, suspecting he didn't enjoy her watching him so closely.  He
also probably hoped he could finish the other two units before arriving
at the precinct.

Nick didn't finish in time, so Natalie ended up driving around the block
once before the third bag was empty.  She parked, tucked the bags away
out of sight, and got out, but he remained frozen in the passenger seat.
She walked around and pulled his door open.  "You're not alone, Nick.
I'm going in with you."

At this, Nick's now nearly normal complexion drained of colour.  "No,"
he firmly said.  "You shouldn't--"

"Everyone knows we're friends.  Most of them think we're more than
that."

"And now they'll have something new to bet on," he said with a grimace.

Natalie didn't like his dismal attitude and worried he'd either had too
much or too little blood.  But they were at the precinct, and she
already noticed one officer stare at them a few seconds too long on
their way inside.  "I'm sure the grapevine has already announced our
arrival, so we might as well get it over with."

Nick's expression faded as he watched the backs of two officers walking
away from them.  Taking in a deep breath, he nodded.  "I'm sorry, Nat.
I don't think I'm really ready to do this."

Flashing him what she hoped would be a reassuring smile, despite her
high heart rate, she watched him get out and shut the door.

Nick started a bit when she took his arm and pulled him along as though
they were on some night-time stroll.  He managed to shrug gently away,
but not until they had made it to the doors.  Entering, Nick came to a
complete halt once they were inside and Natalie had to walk around him,
then prod him to keep moving.  Every single person stared at him.
Schanke was the only one who even tried to work, but everyone else was
at least slightly afraid.  A few whispered about him if they happened to
be near someone.  It was somewhat better than at the university, but
also worse because of the enclosed space.

"Move, Nick," Natalie ordered in a whisper, pressing on his lower back
until he finally started walking toward his desk.  Once there, she had
to prod him further to get him to sit down.

After a couple of minutes sitting, Nick felt the stares drift away and
heard conversations pick up where they had left off.  He heard a few
whispers, but it wasn't anything like at the university and he found he
was able to easily ignore them.  "So, Schanke..."

"Our suspects are being processed.  Question now is, interrogations
first or home checks?"

"What?" Nick asked, a bit surprised by the question, the sheer normality
of it.  "Cohen didn't reassign this?"

"Nope.  She probably should have and sent us both home--not that I'm
gonna complain about staying."  Then Schanke lowered his voice, and
continued, "Although she did say I'm supposed to do the interrogations
without you.  Kinda expected that--I mean, you were nearly put--"  He
paused, realising vampires turned to ash when they died, then dropped
the thought and instead asked, "Don't suppose you could do that trick of
yours through the glass or something?  You know, it'd go a whole lot
faster if--"

Nick couldn't help but smile at his partner's hopeful tone.  "Sorry,
Skank."

"Well, I could threaten to bring you in and let you have a go.  And you
could still try, if you want.  Cohen just doesn't want you and any of
them in the same room."

"Because she thinks I might do something," he whispered back, at which
he felt one of Natalie's hands on his shoulder.

"No, it's more like because *they* might try something," Schanke
corrected, shaking his head.  "Word is that it's more to do with what
they did than what you are.  One of 'em *did* nearly kill you, in case
you've already forgotten, so, technically, you're a victim and shouldn't
even be watching.  So...I wouldn't worry."

"Nick?" Natalie said, and once he had tilted his head back to look at
her, she continued, "I'll either be here when you leave, or else I'll
see you in the morning, alright?"

Nick nodded again.  The mention of home made him start to worry about
what LaCroix would do or say.  That, in turn, made him worry even more
about what the others at the precinct would say either to him or about
him.

It took a whole five minutes after Natalie left before one of the other
detectives came up and asked if he was okay.  After that, he had been
able to sequester himself in one of the observation rooms and watch his
partner interrogate the four who had been arrested at the
university...the four who had killed at least eight vampires.

He enjoyed watching Schanke interview them far more than he had
expected.  He was so used to doing them together that he had forgotten
how much information Schanke could get on his own, using that annoying,
street-wise attitude of his.

During the second session, Schmidt had joined him.  That had dampened
his good mood slightly, although thankfully the other man didn't speak
to him.  He left again during the last session, with the man who had
shot him with the crossbow bolt.  Apparently he hadn't been the man's
target, although he had been pleased to discover his unintended victim
was also a vampire.

The man had also spilt their secret of why they hadn't unknowingly
killed any mortals--the woman with them was another hunter.  She had
been bitten and nearly died in her teens, and had hunted his kind off
and on for the past twenty years.  She had been the final executioner of
most of those they had murdered.

The man admitted the reason she was the prime killer instead of him was
that he had bad aim--not that he needed to admit that.  The woman also
preferred to make her victims die in sunlight, although they had also
beheaded several others.  Nick felt sick at that last bit of
information, and was glad Schmidt had left before that.  The team had
assuredly killed far more than merely the eight the police or Janette
knew about.

That interrogation ended soon after that, and had been the most
informative of all.  The man had wanted to talk--probably hoping that by
doing so, he would get a lesser punishment.  His fear had permeated
through the glass to where Nick stood watching.  The other two men
hadn't volunteered much, and had been much more at ease.  So had the
woman, but she wore a smug smile the entire time, watching him through
the glass--and now he knew why and how she had done that.  She could
sense him there; she had known a vampire was watching.

Almost immediately after leaving the observation room, Nick was cornered
again, this time by another detective.  And again the question was
whether or not he was okay.  He hadn't paid the first questioner much
attention, and had barely even looked at him, but this time he had no
choice.  This detective, who worked Robbery, was genuinely
concerned...and had him essentially backed up against the wall.  He
couldn't move without brushing past the other man, and he didn't want to
risk the close contact.

Nick had replied the same as he had earlier, then, before the man could
ask anything else, he managed to catch up to Schanke.  It wasn't quite
midnight, and he suggested checking out their homes, both to get out of
the precinct, and because it did need to be done--supposedly, based on
information from the last man, the woman had an extensive collection of
weapons.  Irritatingly, Schmidt asked if he could join them.  Neither
could think of a good reason he couldn't--and worse, Cohen thought it
was a good idea--and so they put up with him.  He suspected Schmidt was
as much a chaperone as anything else.

Two of the men lived alone in small apartments, the third lived in a
small home.  All three of them lived fairly close to one another in the
city, and the only interesting item he, Schanke, and Schmidt had found
at their homes was a supply of wooden bullets.  They didn't stay long
after their searches.

The woman, however, lived in a small house a little way outside Toronto.
And the man had been right about the weapons.  Schanke had let out a
long, low whistle after they entered and ensured no one else was in the
house.  Except for the bedroom, every section of every wall was covered
with weapons.  Most were blades or bows of some sort, and most of the
blades were designed more for cutting than stabbing.  Some were modern
and brand new, others quite old.  All of the various swords and knives
had been expertly sharpened to the point that one mistaken move might
prove deadly, or at the very least, quite bloody.

They also found a large supply of crossbow bolts and wooden bullets.  It
appeared as though the woman made them herself, judging by the tools
left out on a table.  No other vampire-specific weapons, such as smaller
crosses that could be used in an emergency, were in sight.  This woman
liked to kill from a distance.

She only had about a dozen guns--practically inconsequential next to the
other weapons--but she had more swords than a medieval museum would
have.  Near these was a box of darts, next to vials of various powerful
sedatives and paralytics, all surely illegal, of course.  None of them
found any regular bullets in the house.  Outside, they found several
uncovered boxes of ash.  The man likely hadn't been lying when he
mentioned that she had beheaded several of their victims.

Closing the back door, Nick had gotten a start upon seeing a homemade
cross on the outside of the door.  He had moved off to one side before
Schanke could see his reaction, his attention drawn to a bloodied cloth
in another box.  Underneath it was what appeared to be ashes, and Nick
knew the blood had to be from a vampire.  Exposed to sunlight, the blood
would ignite the cloth, destroying it without needing any fuel.  And,
indeed, there was no gasoline or other accelerant in sight.

"Nick, is there any way you could maybe tell which weapons they used?"
Schanke asked after they came across the boxes and Schmidt had called
Cohen.

"I don't know," Nick said honestly.  He hadn't noticed any lingering
scent of blood, but then this woman struck him as meticulous.  She had
probably cleaned whatever blade or blades she had used.  Returning to
the main room, Nick closed his eyes and focused on his sense of smell.
Eventually, by the barest trace of a scent, he zoned in on two swords.
Both were curved, single-edged swords.  One was a katana, the other a
scimitar.

He pointed them out to Schmidt, who was still on his phone.  He had to
repeat the information once Schmidt had hung up.  Then he added, "Don't
touch them," in a harsh whisper, as the mortal stepped toward the wall.

Schmidt froze at the warning, then glanced around the room at the dozens
of items.  "You know how to use all of these, don't you?"

Nick looked at Schmidt, then saw the direction of his gaze.  He was
focused on the part of the wall where hung several sickles, a couple of
machetes, and other small or unusual blades.  Something caught his
attention on one of the first, and he realised it was more blood.  "And
this one," he said, pointing to the sickle with the cleanest, sharpest
blade.

"What is that?" Schmidt asked, approaching.  "Looks more like something
one might find on a farm."

"It's called a sickle.  And yes, it's primarily used for harvesting.  Or
was."

"But it could also decapitate someone?" he again prodded.  "How?"

Nick winced.  He really didn't want to give this mortal another
demonstration.  "Not as easily as with those swords."  Seeing that
wasn't enough of an explanation, he changed the subject, "Who's coming?"

"Ah, Dr. Lambert, one of the forensics techs, and a couple of others."
Schmidt paused, then re-asked his previous question, "You know how to
use all of these, don't you?"

"Yes," Nick answered, not seeing a way out of that one.  "But not
expertly."

"But well enough?"

"Well enough," Nick echoed, then moved away into one of the other rooms,
only to find his partner there.  Evidently, he had been listening.

"So," Schanke started, "Not an expert with all those toys, huh?  But
didn't you use something like that when you were, er...like me?  Mortal,
I mean?  And you survived, so..."

"I wasn't an expert, Schanke.  I got hurt, many times, and had quite a
few scars."

His partner paled at the information.

"Don't worry, most were minor injuries."

At that, Schanke paled even further.  "Most?"

Nick winced and changed the subject.  "Let's wait for the others."

He went back outside to wait by the Caddy.  Being out of the house, he
felt much better with the cold morning breeze, and despite the fact that
nearly twenty minutes passed before Natalie pulled up, he barely felt
like he had waited more than five.

Natalie smiled brightly at Nick when he pulled her door open, but then
her smile vanished as the coroner's van pulled up next to her.  "I
thought you might want...something more," she whispered to Nick after
she got out, and held out a plastic travel coffee container.  "There's
another unit in my bag."

Nick started to smile, but faltered after smelling the blood in the mug.
He took a drink from it after shutting Natalie's door, thankful the lid
was black plastic...even though anyone who saw him drink from it would
know instantly what had to be inside.

"So, heard something about a house full of swords," she started as they
approached the house.  Before Nick could answer--he was taking another
drink from the mug she had brought--she had entered and come to a
complete halt in the doorway.  "Oh, wow...  Guess that wasn't an
understatement."

"Nope."

"So what do I need?"

"Boxes of ashes out back, another by the door, and at least three of the
weapons in here."

"Well, I'll actually need--"

"All of them, I know, but those three should have priority," he
corrected, then led Natalie to the back, showing her the rest of the
house.  James, the forensics tech, took the necessary pictures.  As he
did so, he eyed Nick's drink as if the vampire detective was draining
the blood from a live person rather than a cup.  After that, they
started removing items from the walls.

Schmidt mostly stayed out of everyone's way.  Despite Nick's earlier
comment about not being an expert at handling swords or the like, to
Schmidt it looked like he knew *exactly* what he was doing.  When the
detective took the sickle off the wall, Schmidt finally understood
precisely how someone could be decapitated with it.

After the three weapons that most likely had blood on them were removed,
more people started helping removing the weapons.  Schmidt declined and
merely watched Nick's fluid movements as he handled the implements,
confirming his opinion that the detective definitely knew what he was
doing.  The vampire deftly manoeuvred the items, particularly some of
the larger swords, the axe-like staffs, and the lone scythe.  He was
initially surprised that Natalie seemed the next most comfortable
handling the items, but then he realised that as a coroner, she probably
had had at least a few cases involving weapons other than simple knives
or guns.

James had been delegated the task of dealing with the boxes of ashes out
back, as well as all of the smaller items--the vials, syringes, darts,
bullets, and crossbow bolts.  A uniformed officer helped James and
worked with Schanke in one of the other rooms in clearing the walls.

All three of the others shied away somewhat from Nick.  They avoided
talking to him if they had any questions, and asked Schanke, Natalie or
Schmidt instead.

By early morning, Nick had not only finished the mug, but refilled it
and finished that off.  He found himself almost looking forward to
returning to the precinct.

Then, of course, as soon as they arrived back, the desk sergeant had
asked if he was doing okay.  This time he hadn't replied, but merely
closed his eyes briefly, then continued on to his desk.  The instant he
sat down, Cohen called him into the office.

He had been expecting it at some point, but found that he was far more
nervous than he had anticipated.  It didn't help that, at the sound of
Cohen yelling his name, everyone turned his way.  Although they went
back to their work, he could feel them waiting for him to go in.  He
heard a whisper, wondering whether Cohen was going to fire him, and he
felt a little better.  Apparently, Cohen hadn't said anything yet.

Slowly standing, he started for Cohen's office.  He stopped in the door,
hoping the discussion would be something simple.  "Captain?"

"Come in and close the door."

Nick did so, suppressing a flinch, then walked up to the front of
Cohen's desk.

"First, how are you doing with--"

"I'm fine," he replied through clenched teeth.

Cohen raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him.  "Should I take that
to mean you look better than you feel?"

"Probably."

"I haven't talked to the others yet."

"I noticed."  Seeing her become confused, he told her, "I can hear them
whispering about me.  So far it's mainly questions and comments...but
there are also some...accusations."

"I expected as much.  Have you had any trouble from anyone tonight?  Has
anyone...confronted you in any way?"

"No," he honestly answered.  "But I think at least a few of them are a
little afraid of me now.  It's probably to be expected."

She nodded sadly, then took in a deep breath.  "Now, I would like your
old badge ID, either now or--"

"Now is fine," he said, and he pulled out his badge, slid out his old
ID, revealing the newer one he had gotten three weeks earlier, and
handed the old one to Cohen.

Taking and setting the laminated card on her desk, Cohen continued, "And
I want to make sure you understand why I had Schanke do the
interrogations on his own.  I knew it wouldn't be appropriate for you to
participate, considering what they did to you earlier tonight.  But if
you believe you can remain objective, I will allow you to be present for
any additional questioning."

Nick silently nodded.

"And--don't cut me off this time, Knight--I do want to make sure you are
physically okay.  I'm going to ask Natalie to clear you for work
tomorrow, and if there is any reason you don't want to come in, you can
either call in sick or switch your day off."  Seeing her detective start
to protest, she explained, "The press found out what happened and didn't
waste any time tracking down your name, so you should expect to be
identified on at least the local news, if not far beyond that."

At this, he flinched.  He hadn't thought much about what he was and his
job getting out to the press and the public at large--he had only
focused on what his co-workers thought and whether they would accept
him.  "Is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment."

Without nodding or in any way replying, he hurriedly left.  Exiting the
office, however, he almost wished Cohen had had more to say.  Sitting at
his desk, he noticed that the same detective who had initially asked if
he was okay now seemed to want to approach and ask something else--he
probably wanted to know what Cohen had talked to him about.  Nick buried
his attention in the papers on his desk, and was pleased when the other
detective eventually decided against asking his question.

He still had a full hour of his shift left, and he had a feeling he
would enjoy LaCroix' reaction even less than he had the previous part of
the night.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (034/111)

Natalie fought the urge to pace by cleaning the dishes from her meal.
It was nearly sunrise and Nick wasn't home yet.  She had expected he
might be late after the vampiress from the scene had come by the morgue
to deal with her wound.  She had asked about Nick, if he had been
killed, then wanted to know if she should go by the precinct, since she
had left the scene before being questioned.  Natalie had told her to do
so only if she felt comfortable; if not, she could call Nick or his
partner and have one of them come down.  The young vampire had gone with
the first.  That surely explained why Nick was late.

But now Natalie had already been at the loft for half an hour--an hour
and a half past when Nick should have returned.  LaCroix had backed her
into the wall the instant she entered, demanding to know every detail of
what had happened earlier that night.  That she held Nick's bloodied
shirt in her hands at the time hadn't helped, but LaCroix eventually
accepted her explanation, after repeatedly telling him that Nick was
fine.

Then she had eaten something, in an attempt to keep both her worry for
Nick and LaCroix at bay for a few minutes.  Thankfully it had worked.
Granted, she made a point to add some garlic powder to her food, which
probably helped with the latter, although it certainly hadn't made
LaCroix any happier.

The moment the elevator started up, Natalie shut the water off half-way
through washing her dish, dried her hands, and hurried over to the door.
She reached it just as Nick pulled it open.  She saw his gaze lock
behind her, and turned to find LaCroix scowling a bit beyond her reach.

"Nicholas--"

"Don't, LaCroix.  Just...don't."  With that, Nick brushed past Natalie,
flew up to the balcony, and shut the door to the bedroom.

Natalie started for the stairs, but LaCroix stopped her, blocking her
path.

"Leave him alone," he ordered.

Natalie stepped around him and headed to the bathroom she still kept her
things in.  She shut the door, and could hear the water running upstairs
while she changed for bed--once again using Nick's black long sleeved
t-shirt to hide the wound on her arm.  She also changed the bandage, and
was pleased to find it was healing quickly.  She almost didn't bandage
it--it was mostly now a light scar--but thought it was better to cover
it.  She still didn't know if LaCroix had noticed it.

She quickly brushed her teeth and washed her face, using as little water
as possible, and put her hair into a loose braid before exiting.
LaCroix followed her every move, and after she retrieved a bottle from
the refrigerator and a glass and turned back, she could see him
simmering.  Ignoring him, she started for the stairs, hurrying up the
steps.  At the top, suddenly LaCroix was standing in front of her,
blocking her path to Nick's room.  "Move."

"Return downstairs, Doctor."

"Move--now," she repeated.

"Nicholas wishes to be left alone."

"If Nick wants someone to leave him alone right now, I'm pretty sure
it's you, not me."  Natalie saw his anger rise, but he refrained from
further arguing with her or doing anything to her.  Taking a chance, she
walked forward and pushed past him.  As she had hoped, he turned to let
her by when their arms touched.  He glared when she went to the door and
opened it, but made no move to stop her again...or follow her.

Shutting the door behind her, Natalie felt much safer in Nick's room
with the door closed.  She didn't think LaCroix would enter, not until
after Nick was asleep.  She set the bottle unopened on the nightstand,
the glass beside it, then sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

Thirty minutes later, Natalie started to become concerned.  She had
passed the time trying to figure out what to say to Nick or ask him.
Cohen had called her at the morgue, mentioning that Nick's name had been
leaked to the media, and the news of what he was had spread like
lightning.  She suspected this was what was bothering him, but had no
idea how to calm his thoughts, beyond getting him to sleep.

But she couldn't do that with him closed off in the bathroom...where he
was apparently trying to drown himself in the shower.  The water still
running, she went to the door.

"Nick?" she called, hoping he would answer.  He didn't.  "If you don't
turn the water off and come out in five minutes, I'm coming in," she
told him in a firm tone, figuring five minutes would be plenty of time,
if he wanted to wait a little longer.

Natalie went back to the bed and checked the alarm clock--6:37 am.  She
pulled the covers back from the side closest to the bathroom, then sat
and watched the numbers click over on the clock.  At forty-one past,
Natalie finally heard the water switch off.  After a few seconds, she
stood and went back to the door to wait.  Shortly after, the door
opened, and Nick stood there, his hair still dripping wet, wearing only
boxer shorts and his black and red satin robe, the latter of which
wasn't tied shut.  "Nick--"

"Don't, Nat.  Please don't--"

"I'm not going to ask if you're all right, or how you're doing, although
I probably should.  I think the only thing you should do right now is
sleep."

"It's all over the news now, my name and what happened tonight," he
whispered.  "They know the truth now--they know I'm a vampire."

"I know.  Cohen called and told me."  She scooted past him and into the
bathroom, grabbed the barely damp towel from the floor, then pushed him
forward out of the room.

Nick stumbled slightly, then walked toward the bed, where he felt her
press down on his shoulders as he turned.  "Nat," he started when she
took the towel to his hair to soak up some of the excess water.  As she
stopped and his vision was no longer obscured, his eyes locked on the
bottle and glass on the table.  "Natalie, I'm not--"

"Shh, I'm not going to force it down your throat or even into your hand.
It's simply there."  She turned around and went to the bathroom,
grabbing his discarded clothes, holster, and watch, and putting them
somewhere better than the floor or counter.  After placing his watch
next to the bottle and glass, she reached around him to push the covers
back further, then guided him back with her hand pressed against his
bare skin directly over his heart.

Nick leaned back and lay down, but when he felt Natalie's hand pull
away, he reached up and took it in his hands, bringing her fingers to
his lips.  She was so warm, especially against his chilled skin, and he
didn't want her to leave.

Natalie was forced to sit next to him, and carefully she pulled the
covers up over them and lay down next to him.  When he loosened his grip
on her hand, she pulled it back, then wrapped both of her arms around
him.  She closed her eyes when Nick rest his head in the crook of her
neck.

Within minutes she felt him go completely limp, his faint breath on her
skin suddenly ceasing.  He was already asleep, exhausted.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Both Nick and Natalie woke when LaCroix entered the bedroom an hour
later.  Nick struggled when his sire lay behind him, pulling him firmly
back against him.  While Natalie wasn't thrilled about the other
vampire's action, she tried calming Nick, first by brushing her fingers
down the side of his face, then by kissing him, initially on his
forehead, then on his lips.  The last finally did the trick, but none of
them slept soundly after that.

Nick periodically tried to push LaCroix' hands away, sometimes finding
they were Natalie's instead, other times only for LaCroix to move his
hands to his shoulders or arms, where it was more difficult for him to
reach.

One time Nick woke Natalie through a rather deep kiss.  She could feel
his hands under her shirt on the skin of her back and sides.  He pulled
her against him, her bare abdomen touching his skin.  His fangs
descended in an instant, slicing into her tongue.  After another long,
deep kiss, she felt him pull away and was left with the bitter, iron
taste of her own blood.

Nick's golden eyes suddenly locked onto hers, then onto her neck, but a
second later when LaCroix sat up and held his wrist between them, they
changed focus yet again.  Nick bit into the offered wrist without even a
second of hesitation.

Nearly a minute later, she watched Nick pull his head back and push his
master's arm away.  She felt both ill and sad when LaCroix touched
Nick's hair, brushing it back, only for Nick to abruptly jerk his head
away from the touch, shoving his sire's hand violently away.  When his
eyes again met hers, they were once again blue and looked drained of
life.  She touched his face again, and he unexpectedly kissed her.

It was the second time in less than twelve hours that Natalie had tasted
a vampire's blood, and again she was struck by how it didn't taste quite
like blood.  It wasn't salty, nor did it have an overwhelming metallic
flavour.  Worse, while Nick's blood tasted faintly of honey or something
similarly sweet, LaCroix' had a slight hint of spices--cinnamon, nutmeg,
and cloves.  It was more like some desert bread than another person's
blood, when she really thought about it, and she remained slightly
distracted, even after Nick pulled away again.

Nick again rested his head under her chin, at which her gaze switched to
LaCroix.  He was licking his wound, his bright golden eyes glaring at
her.  When he looked away, she licked her lips and tasted more of the
exotic cinnamon tainted blood.  Even as Nick fell back asleep, LaCroix
didn't say anything to her, and she closed her eyes to block his angry
gaze out when he again focused on her.

After that, Natalie finally fell back to sleep, rather than remaining
half awake.  The next time she woke, she felt rested.  Nick had shifted
so her head now rested against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly
around her, holding her against him.

Natalie smiled, her eyes closed as she kissed him, first on the neck,
his chin, and then his lips.  He responded, first kissing her back, then
shoving her back onto the mattress and pinning her down.

Instantly, she realised something was wrong.

Nick was lighter than this, and right before she felt his lips move from
hers to her neck, she saw a flash of icy, glacier blue eyes.

She moved her hands between them and pushed against LaCroix' chest, only
to hear and feel his demented giggle as he ceased the feather light
kisses, his lips still touching her neck.  Finally he rolled away.  She
sat up and felt sick watching him leer up at her, silently laughing.

Nick wasn't even in the room.

She quickly got out of the bed and left the room, wanting to put as much
distance between them as quickly as she could.  Turning the corner
outside the door, she ran head first into Nick.  His eyes blazed
brilliant gold and she realised he knew what had happened--but instead
of being embarrassed like her, or amused like LaCroix, his gaze was
murderous and focused on the door to the bedroom.  "Nick?"

He started around Natalie, only to have her grab his arm when he
attempted to pass her.

"Don't, Nick.  It was my fault.  I was barely awake and thought he was
you and...just forget about it.  Please?"  When Nick closed his eyes,
clearly trying to calm himself, her attention drifted downstairs.  She
could hear the television--the news, of course--and she froze upon
hearing Nick's name.  Without saying anything, she pulled on his arm
until he turned back toward the stairs, then she released him and headed
down, hoping he would follow.

Nick remained on the balcony until Natalie stopped approaching the
television, her eyes glued to the screen.  He flew down and landed
behind her, his eyes locking on the picture of himself on one side of
the screen before he looked away.  "They've been speculating about me.
I can't say I'm surprised."

Natalie nearly said that it didn't sound that bad, until she realised
this wasn't the local news.  It wasn't even a Canadian channel, but an
American one.  It hadn't even been a day yet, and it would surely spread
further, if it hadn't already.

"They're waiting for a statement."

"From?"

"I'm assuming Cohen, or the police commission or...someone.  They want
to know why I wasn't found out and identified as a vampire a lot earlier
than this.  And I think they want someone to blame.  Either me or
whoever screwed up.  Which...that's not what happened."  He turned away
and went to sit on the sofa.  "I don't know how this is going to work,
or how they're going to explain it."

Turning, Natalie noticed he had gotten dressed and appeared ready for
work, minus the fact that he hadn't shaved.  "I know, but are you sure
you want to watch that?"

"I need to.  At least to see whatever the cover story is."

"So, Cohen didn't say anything about that?"

"No.  She did say that I can stay home tonight if I want."

"Or if I don't clear you," she said, and she watched his gaze darken
when he turned to her.

After a few seconds Nick shook his head.  "If I don't go in, the others
will talk and wonder about me.  They'll think I have something to
fear...a reason to hide.  Everything will just snowball from bad to
worse."

"Well, if you do go in, I'm driving you."

"Nat..."

"No discussion, Nick," she said firmly, then watched him go from
resigned to relieved.  "So, what else are they speculating about?  Or
should I ask?"

"Why I'm a detective.  I'm the only one, apparently.  Or I am now,
anyway.  There was another one, a vampire cop in Seattle, but he quit
when he was identified.  Disappeared.  What's worse, it sounds like he
used what he was for his own benefit."

"What do you mean?" Natalie asked, suspecting she already had an idea of
the answer.

"He was feeding from those he brought in.  Suffice it to say, he brought
in an unusually high number of dead or dazed suspects."

"But you don't, Nick.  And you never have."

"But they'll look into it, I can count on that.  And they'll wonder if
I've ever done anything similar."

Natalie came to sit next to Nick and took one of his hands in hers.
"Have they said how old you are?"

"No.  Or not that I've heard."  He took his eyes off the screen and
turned toward Natalie.  "They're supposed to have an update at the top
of the hour."

She checked her watch.  It was only about twenty after five, so they had
at least forty minutes to wait, possibly more.  She felt Nick tense and
found it difficult not to do so herself.  Instead, she leaned up against
him in an attempt to distract him.  When she felt his arm snake behind
her and pull her closer, she knew it had worked at least a little.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (035/111)

Nick and Natalie sat in her car in the precinct parking lot.  Schanke
had called after getting to the precinct early and finding droves of
reporters eagerly waiting outside the precinct.  McIntyre had done
nothing to get rid of them, and Cohen apparently wasn't there yet.

The official statement had been quite short.  Basically it said that he
had already had his background investigated and verified.  He had also
been questioned, and his superiors had been aware of what he was for
several weeks.  It also admitted that he was 160+ years old.

Nick was thankful for whomever was responsible for the low-balled age
estimate.  Both Schmidt and Cohen knew he was at least five-hundred
years old, and they could have easily stated as much.  He did worry that
if and when his age got out, it would create even more suspicion and
distrust.  He was also both thankful and upset that Schanke had been
dragged into things, even if only tangentially, and even though he
suspected it would soon be obvious that Schanke hadn't just found out
what he was the previous night.

"So, glad you shaved?"

Nick looked over at Natalie when she ran her finger along his smooth
chin.  After Schanke had called, she had practically shoved him back
into the bathroom and ordered him to shave properly, at least for that
night.

"Nick..."

He cracked a smile.  They had already gone through this earlier before
leaving.  "Yes.  Even if the photo they've been using--"

Natalie shook her head.  The news had been using Nick's badge photo,
which frankly gave him a bit of a sinister demeanour, even more so than
before he had shaved.  Regardless, she had managed to get him to smile.
Now they merely had to get inside.  "Stay there a moment."  She got out
and went around to the other door, which she pulled open for Nick.

"You don't have to walk in with me, Nat."

"I'm not letting you walk through that feeding frenzy alone," she said,
gesturing to the dozens of people standing in front of the doors.  "And
I'm sure the fact that we're more than friends has either already leaked
or it will soon."  She reached forward for his hand and pulled, coaxing
him out of the seat.

She didn't let go of his hand as she led them toward and then through
the throng of reporters.  Neither said anything to them, not even the
expected 'no comment', and they avoided eye contact with anyone until
after Natalie reached the door and pulled it open.  Once inside,
however, it wasn't much better.  In fact, those present stared more than
they had the previous night.

Part of it, Nick quickly realised, was that most of day shift was still
there.  They probably wanted to get a good look at him.  Briggs and
Flanagan sat at their desks, the former glaring at him, the latter
gazing curiously their way.  Most of those from day shift glared like
Briggs, which made him wonder if McIntyre had said something to them
about him.

Feeling Natalie tug on his hand, he tore his eyes away from the others
and let her guide him to his desk.

Schanke grinned.  "Good to see ya, partner, and glad you made it through
that jungle out there.  How desperate were the vultures?  They tried
cornering me, but uh-uh, not falling for their so-called 'curiosity'.
What'd they ask you?  They try anything?"

Nick started to answer, but honestly didn't remember anyone actually
asking anything.  He had been focused solely on trying to get inside.

"Oh, and Schmidt wanted to 'have a little talk', as he put it."

"Schmidt?" Natalie asked, drawing Nick's attention back to her.  "About
what?"

"Me, probably.  Can I go back home now, Nat?"

Nick looked up at her, his eyes full of hope, but she shook her head,
seeing the teasing smile right under the surface.  Then she saw a
nervous Schmidt in the hall, and winced.  "I think we're wanted.  And,
yep, it's not only us."  Natalie glanced toward Briggs and Flanagan, who
had apparently also been summoned.

Nick stalled, waiting for the other two to follow Schmidt before getting
up, then he followed after his partner.  He would have after Natalie,
too, but she stayed behind him.  He felt her hand on his back before
they entered the conference room, and turned to see a reassuring smile
on her face.  Returning it, he entered, then felt his muscles seize up
again.  Not only were Briggs and Flanagan there, but Anderson and DuBois
had apparently been summoned from the 27th.  He and Natalie were the
last ones to arrive, and he heard Schmidt shut the door while Natalie
pushed him toward two empty chairs.

"Sit down," Natalie said so that hopefully only Nick would hear, while
also pulling on his hand from her chair.

Nick slowly sat, and when Natalie's hand finally released his, he felt
oddly alone, despite that she sat on one side of him and Schanke on the
other.

"I think we all know what this is about," Schmidt started, his gaze
falling on Nick.

"How long have you known about him?" Briggs asked.  "Or did you?  Cohen
obviously did--she made the news announcement.  And McIntyre said his
bit this morning."

Nick winced.  Of course McIntyre had said something--at the very least,
that the vampire playing detective had been banned from the precinct
during the day, by his order, and who knew what else.  He had never
asked what exactly Cohen had said about him.

"McIntyre said Knight is older than--" Flanagan started, but was cut off
by a glare and a warning hand from Schmidt.

"Before anyone asks anything else or gets any replies, I need your word
that anything said to you won't be passed to anyone outside this room."
Schmidt opened a folder on the table, then passed a half-slip of paper
around to everyone but Nick.  "Sign it and we'll proceed."

"What if we don't want to?" Briggs asked, not touching his slip.

"Then you can leave," Schmidt answered.  "This is more for your
individual benefit than anything official."

"But we can't tell anyone else what we hear?" Anderson asked, sceptical.

"That's up to Knight here.  Who, by the way, knew nothing about this
little meeting, and is not obligated to either give or allow me to give
a response to anything we discuss here."

Nick relaxed slightly at that, and listened as most everyone signed
their forms.  Briggs, however, stood and left without a word to anyone
but his partner.

Schmidt collected the sheets, made sure they were signed and dated, then
put them away again.  "Now, questions?"

"How long have you known Knight is a vampire?" asked DuBois, taking
Briggs' original question.

"Roughly a month."

"So he somehow tricked you?" the detective again asked.

"Yes...and no," Schmidt hedged.  "That night at the Raven, I failed to
test Knight directly, something I should have done.  It wasn't really a
trick--rather something that was missed, and then overlooked.  That was
more my fault than his."

"But he had a blood test done," Anderson stated.

Over half those in the room winced, flinched, or looked away.  Those who
didn't, noticed and zoned in on Natalie.  She had, after all, likely
drawn the blood for the test.  And everyone in the room knew she was
immune; she couldn't be influenced by vampires.

"It was faked?" DuBois asked, his gaze locked on her.

"Yes," Schmidt answered.  "Knight?"

"Go ahead."  Nick didn't look up.

"Doctor?  Detective?" Schmidt then asked, turning toward Natalie and
Schanke.

"Lambert used my blood for the test," Schanke quickly spit out.  "It was
my idea, so I guess this one's on me."

"So both of you have known what he was at least that long," Flanagan
surmised, a bit stunned.

Schanke glanced to Nick, who gave him a slight nod.  "Yeah, but I only
found out the day after we all got tagged for this."

Natalie didn't answer until she felt Nick bump her thigh with his hand,
at which she saw him nod to her.  "I've known since a few months before
Nick joined the force here," she vaguely answered.

"Five and a half years," Nick supplied.

"How old are you?  Really?" Anderson asked.

"More than a hundred and sixty," he simply answered, happy to have an
official number to start with.  He wasn't quite sure he wanted to tell
these people his age.  He barely knew Anderson and DuBois.  They had
transferred to the 27th when he and Schanke had moved to the 96th, so
they had never worked together.

"And LaCroix knows you more than merely in passing, I assume," DuBois
guessed.  "This isn't the first time you've met."

"No, it isn't the first time we've met," Nick replied, again thankful
for something to latch onto.

"How long have you known him?" the other added.

"A long time," Nick answered evasively.  Then, with DuBois' eyes on him,
waiting, getting suspicious at his vague answer, he added, "More than a
hundred and sixty years."  Then, he winced, wondering what
assumptions--particularly correct ones--would be gathered from that.

"There was another vampire who was a detective in the States," Flanagan
started.  "They said he was using his job to--"

"Yeah, we heard.  And Nick isn't like that," Schanke quickly countered
before Flanagan could get his actual question out.  "The news said the
other one worked alone, too.  Obviously Nick is different.  He doesn't
do that kind of stuff.  Never has."

"Look, we all know neither of you wanted to work together," DuBois
stated.  "And we all know Nick not only has worked alone, but he's also
been labelled--"

"And what of it?" Schanke protested, cutting DuBois' words off.  He
leaned forward in his chair, toward the others, almost blocking Nick
from those on his other side.  "So, he's a bit of a hot shot.  Maybe a
bit hot-tempered and...independent.  Wouldn't you be if you were in his
place?  Wouldn't you be frustrated at not being able to--"

"Schanke," Nick whispered, also sitting forward.  "Just leave it."

"No," he replied.  "He's not that much different than the rest of us.
Knight's never done anything like what that other one did; I'd know.
And I would have figured out what was up with him at some point long
before this was all shoved into the spotlight."

"But he *is* different," DuBois said.  "He's--forgive me this wording,
Knight, but you are in fact a natural killer."

"Nick's not--"

"Schanke!" Nick hissed, pulling on his partner's arm.

"Fine," Schanke said after a second, then added, "But what he is
probably makes him a better cop.  And I know for a fact that he's saved
my ass and tons of other folks by using what he is more times than I'll
probably *ever* know."

DuBois, Anderson, and Flanagan went quiet at that, until the last
finally asked, "Is it hard for you to work around us normal humans?"

Nick was a bit surprised by the question, and didn't answer right away.

"Either you specifically or vampires in general.  It seems like most of
you guys either don't work, are self-employed, or something like that.
Is that because of the sun or...something else?" Flanagan continued.

Anderson said, "I think he means is it hard to resist, like being a
snake in the hen house?"

At that, both Nick and Natalie winced.  It was too good of a comparison,
since, in some ways, that was exactly what Nick was.  "I've worked quite
often with...humans, mortals.  I suppose you could say I'm used to it.
But, yes, sometimes it can be difficult."

"Is that how they came up with their guess of how old you are?" Flanagan
asked.  "By the time you've worked with us?"

Nick hadn't really thought of it that way.  The hundred and sixty he
knew was tied to what he had told Cohen--his time as an American Civil
War field surgeon, plus his minimum age of appearance.  But it was also
actually when he started working much closer with larger numbers of
mortals, and, he suspected, when records were less likely to be
lost...and one of the first times he had used the name 'Knight'.  It was
the furthest back he could be easily traced without more extensive
research.  "Probably."

"But you're actually older than that, right?" the young detective
continued.

"Yes," Nick quickly answered.  After all, it was pretty obvious the age
mentioned on the news was more of a minimum than a range or an estimate.

"And he's not going to tell you how old he is," Schmidt answered.

"Do you know?" DuBois asked, shifting his attention away from Nick.

"Not...exactly," Schmidt replied.  "But I know the range, even if it is
a wide one."

"What about you two?" DuBois asked, turning to first Schanke then
Natalie.

Not wanting either to have to answer or try not to, Nick answered, "They
both know."

"Know what, exactly?"

"They both know how old I am and the year I was brought across."

"Brought across?  What does—"

Nick cut DuBois off.  "Changed into a vampire.  That's our phrase for
it."

"So do they know who did it, too?"

Nick felt his anger rise at the intrusive questions, but simply
answered, "Yes."

"Is it La--"

"I think that's enough on that line of questioning," Schmidt
interrupted, his gaze on Nick, who was clearly becoming uncomfortable.

"What actually happened last night?" Anderson asked, leaning forward.
"We already know that you were supposedly hit by a crossbow bolt, and we
heard that you died when it was removed--or we all thought you did, then
you...simply went back to work?"

"That is pretty much what happened."

"Yeah, but don't you heal fast enough that you should have healed
before--"

"Nick's--" Natalie started, then paused when Nick gave her a glare.  Not
letting it stop her, she explained, "His aorta was punctured.  It wasn't
exactly a minor wound."

"Aorta?  But that's--" Flanagan started, pressing his chest above his
heart.

"Exactly.  He more or less bled to death," she stated.

Pretty much every person in the room showed how uncomfortable they were
at that idea.  Some shifted or leaned back in their chairs, winced, or
deliberately looked anywhere but at Nick.

"Did it, well, *hurt*?  You know we've never seen any information on
whether you feel pain like us or not."

Nick glanced down, away from the young, curious detective.  "Yes, last
night definitely hurt."

"I think 'hurt' is an understatement," Schanke muttered.  "You were in
so much pain, such agony, you couldn't even speak or move.  Admit it,
Knight; it hurt like hell."

"I've experienced worse," Nick countered, but of course it only made the
others curious.  "I'd much rather be...shot.  With regular bullets,
anyway.  Not the wooden kind."

"Yes, vampires feel pain," Natalie said, answering the original
question.  "And things like being impaled by--"

"A wooden stake," Schanke supplied.

Natalie shot Nick's partner a glare at that, and he pulled back a
little.  "Point is, I'm sure some things hurt a vampire more than they
would one of us, and what happened to Nick is, I'm sure, one of them."

"Any other concerns or issues?" Schmidt asked.

"Er," Flanagan continued, "McIntyre talked about Knight
rather--apparently he's been banned from the precinct when either the
sun's up or day shift is still there?  And he made it pretty clear that
Nick has killed people in the past, but refused to explain more about
that."

Anderson's brow creased at the news.  "Stonetree hasn't talked to us at
all.  He actually barely reacted last night--told us to stop speculating
and that it didn't matter.  Kind of suggested it was none of our
business, although not directly..."  He considered for a moment, then
asked Nick and Schanke, "Wait--Stonetree was your previous captain,
right?  Did he know?"

"As far as I am aware, no one told him, but..." Nick glanced to Natalie,
who seemed to realise where he was going.  "He probably knew enough to
put it together whenever he first learned about vampires.  And I'm not
sure it would have surprised him."

"Probably wouldn't--he ever tell you all those weird stories like he
does with us?" Anderson asked.

Nick smiled a little at that, but didn't actually answer the question.

"And how did McIntyre know?" DuBois asked.  "And has Knight killed
people?  Recently, I mean," he corrected, turning toward Nick a bit
nervously.  "All of your kind kill at some point, right?"

"As the 96th's dayshift commander, McIntyre was informed after Knight's
background check and initial approval to remain," Schmidt answered.
"And for the rest, Knight?"

Nick fidgeted a bit, but nodded.  "Most vampires do kill at some point.
But not all; most younger vampires have never killed.  But, yes, I've
killed."

"But not recently," Natalie added with a glare when Nick abruptly
stopped speaking.

"No, not recently," he agreed, looking down for a moment.  "Unless you
count anything on the job or during wartime."

"Well," Schmidt began when the room went awkwardly silent, "if you have
other questions, either come directly to me or to your captains.  This
also goes for your co-workers.  They'll forward anything else they bring
up to myself, and then my colleagues and I will determine how to address
it, assuming it's appropriate to do so.  Now, I'm sure you would like to
head home, and the rest of you have work to do, so unless you have
further questions, you may go."

Anderson and DuBois almost immediately left.  Schanke was at the door
when Schmidt called Nick's name...and told him he needed to stay a
moment.  Nick waved his partner off, but then Flanagan stayed behind.

Nick moved away, assuming the other man wanted to talk to Schmidt, but
Flanagan followed him instead.

"Er, can I ask you something?"  When Nick didn't tell him no, he asked,
"Were you officially cleared to stay or...whatever?"

"Yeah, I was cleared," he answered.  "I don't know if last night changes
anything."  When Flanagan didn't immediately leave, Nick assured him,
"It's fine.  I don't expect people to accept me with no questions or
reservations."

"About that...I'm sorry about my partner."

He tensed, but replied, "You don't have to try and make up for him."

"I'm not, I just--"

"I know.  I can tell," Nick said with a half-smile.

Flanagan paled slightly, realising something.  "So you can--"

"I can tell if you're lying or not.  Or, more specifically, if you're
nervous.  Really, it's fine.  Go on home to your family."

"Thanks.  I'm glad you understand."  The younger detective nodded and
left, Natalie following behind him, which left Nick alone with Schmidt.

"I have some possibly bad news, Nick."

"Which is?"

Schmidt glanced nervously away, then back.  "First, Cohen is--Stonetree
is being questioned about what he knows about you, and when he knew it.
That's why Cohen isn't here; she'll be next.  And some people are
raising questions about whether you're actually qualified for the job.
Mainly if your certifications and such are genuine, fake, or simply
weren't done at all."

Nick closed his eyes, but to be honest, he was surprised this hadn't
been brought up before.  But at the time, only a handful of people had
known what he was.  While his past may have been researched
initially--and meticulously--no one could really question him on it
without revealing what he was to the world, and far sooner.  But now
they could.

"Nick, are you all right?"

The question made him feel even worse, and he shook his head, but
answered, "Yes, I'm all right."

Schmidt examined Nick for nearly a minute before telling him, "Cohen
probably won't know anything until tomorrow night at the earliest.  The
worst she thinks would happen is that you'd need to be recertified with
your weapon, maybe retake a couple of tests, that's all."

Nick nodded silently.  He had passed his weapons tests legitimately, or
as legitimately as a vampire's acute senses could.  He could see other
issues, though.  With Schmidt's CD they could make sure whoever
administered any of those tests was a resistor.  And resistors often had
strong opinions...and could be somewhat biased.

"Nick?  Are you sure--"

"I'm fine," Nick answered through clenched teeth.  "Schanke's probably
wondering where I am."  With that, he went to the door and left, only to
run into Natalie, who was waiting for him just outside the door.  If
possible, he felt even worse when the door half-slammed behind him.
"Nat..."

Natalie took Nick by the arm and started him back toward his desk.  Her
gentle guiding made him feel better, and by the time he re-joined
Schanke, he realised the night couldn't get much worse after his last
bit of news.  Things might even start getting a little better.  If
nothing else, at least he no longer had to hide what he was.  It was one
less thing to worry about.

Tonight should certainly be better than the previous one.  He doubted
anything could possibly top being shot with a crossbow, then bleeding
out on the pavement with onlookers, only to wake up half-starved and
covered in blood...and then go back to work and manage not to kill
anyone.

Even now he felt slightly tired, and looked forward to the end of his
shift--or another one of Natalie's mugs of blood.  He even found himself
wanting Natalie's blood, a thought he immediately squashed.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (036/111)

By midnight, Nick's assessment of the night's possibilities had been
completely obliterated.  First, he and Schanke had re-interrogated the
woman, the hunter.

She hated him.  Absolutely, unequivocally, loathed him.

Thankfully, that meant she actually talked more tonight than the
previous night, despite her lawyer's recommendation against it...and
despite that he merely stood there.  The lawyer was terrified of him.

Later, Cohen had all but confirmed he would be required to retake his
regular periodic tests 'early'.  She did say she was trying to get him
out of it, let them stay on their original schedule, but in his opinion,
she didn't sound very confident of success.  That meant more questions.
Worst of all, one of those routine tests was a psych evaluation.  He
loathed psych evaluations.  Absolutely loathed them.  He didn't worry
about anything else.

And now he had just finished demonstrating exactly how hard it was to
record a vampire's life-signs for a polygraph.  It had been even worse
than he expected.  The device didn't register any response at all.  Or
at least nothing it registered had any meaning to the woman
administering the test.  It was useless.

On the plus side, that meant it was such a disaster they gave up almost
immediately, and he didn't have to answer more than a few control
questions, which, of course, revealed nothing.  That had improved his
mood, but by then, he couldn't stand being in the whisper-filled
precinct another minute.

So while Schanke was hunting down some food that would most likely renew
his annoyance for the rest of the night, Nick had gone to the morgue.
He entered quietly to find Natalie standing with a file laid out on the
steel table that more often held bodies than papers.  He walked up
behind her, intending to whisper a greeting in her ear.

"Sneaking around, huh, Nick?" she said and tried to turn around, only to
find him so close that she couldn't.

Without answering, he snaked his arms around her waist, rested his chin
on her shoulder, closed his eyes, and breathed in her scent.  He could
feel his worry and stress melt away instantly.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Now, yes.  Immensely."  He explained the previous two hours, from the
lawyer's panicked pulse, what Cohen had told him, the useless attempt at
polygraphing a vampire, all of the way up to Schanke's obnoxious lunch
plans.  He didn't move throughout the explanation, and then when he did
he merely turned his head toward Natalie's neck so that he could more
strongly smell her sweet blood.  It was so inviting, so close...

"Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you move a bit so I can turn around?"  She immediately felt him
loosen his grip and step back, and she turned in his loose grasp to face
him.  Closing the distance between them again, she put her hands on his
shoulders.  He stared down on her with a weary smile that she knew was
just for show.  "What are you thinking about?"

Nick hesitated, but he didn't feel like lying.  Closing his eyes, he
whispered, "Your blood.  And how wonderful it smells."

"And what exactly do I smell like?  Or taste like?"

"Sugar.  Cream.  Chocolate, I think."  Nick paused.  "Lilacs."

Natalie smiled at his description.  The first made her think of hot
chocolate, and she faintly wondered if he was simply smelling the hot
chocolate on her desk, because that was the last thing she had drunk, or
if she always smelled that way.  Seeing the corners of his lips tweak up
as he opened his eyes, she told him, "Go ahead.  Take it."

At the unexpected words, Nick released her and backed away, shaking his
head.  "No, Nat, I--"

She moved forward and put her fingers to his lips, stopping his protest.
"Do it, Nick, take some of my blood.  You didn't have a problem before.
This way you'll have a few hours before we see each other again, and you
don't have to worry about LaCroix watching."  Slowly lowering her hand,
she waited for Nick to resume his protest, but instead he appeared to be
considering the offer.  "Nick?"

Eventually, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she instantly answered.

"But you're--I don't want you to possibly feel worse than--you know," he
finished awkwardly.

At first Natalie was trying to figure out how he knew she was tired in
the first place, then she blushed.  Of course he would know she was
menstruating.  He probably knew before she knew.  It didn't cross her
mind at first because he had never mentioned it before.  "I'm sure I'll
be fine, Nick.  Assuming that doesn't bother you?"

"No, not really.  It does make your blood smell a little
different--sweeter, perhaps?"

"Hmm, so it'll taste better?"

"Maybe.  Slightly different, anyway."

She saw him smile again, and she left him, going to the doors and
locking them so no one would be able to come in.

The finality of the lock clicking, and then Natalie walking back up to
him and putting her hands on his arms sent stabs of panic into him.
"Nat..."

"Do it, Nick."

He closed his eyes, which had flared to gold at her unflinching
willingness.  When she kissed him on his neck, however, he knew he could
no longer deny what they both wanted.  Looking down on her, he pushed
Natalie backwards toward the cabinets, his hands on her waist.  He
lifted her easily onto the counter, pulled her shirt out from her skirt,
then kissed the now bare side of her ribs.

Natalie barely had time to think, he had acted so fast, and his ardent
kisses moved down her side.  She waited for him to strike, only for him
to pull agonisingly away, his touch abruptly ceasing.  She let him do
whatever he wished, closing her eyes, not wanting to push him.

Then the touch and kisses began again on her right leg, and he pushed
the fabric of her skirt up, kissing the outside of her calf, then her
knee and lower thigh, before finally stopping almost at her hip.  This
time he paused with his lips still brushing against her skin.  She felt
his hand, now on her thigh, tighten its grip, his thumb inching up her
inner thigh until his lips replaced it.

Nick then pulled away again, but hovered over his second intended
target, trying to block out the even sweeter source of blood he wouldn't
have to bite through flesh to get to.

"Nick?" she whispered when he paused, wondering if he would pull away.

Not looking up, he shifted, kissing Natalie's outer thigh again.
Finally, as he felt her hand on his neck, either helping or comforting
him, he bit and took what he so dearly wanted.

Natalie gasped at the abrupt pain from Nick's fangs as they stabbed into
her thigh so very quickly and he began taking her blood.  The pain
lasted only a few seconds, however, and when she began to feel the
effects of the blood loss, she felt absolutely euphoric.  It didn't last
long before dizziness worked its way in alongside this bliss, but it
finally showed her how vampires might feel when another took their
blood--and how, even if unwilling or unexpected, it provided pleasure.
Nothing this dangerous should feel this good.

Abruptly, Nick stopped, and she was jolted back to his presence with a
kiss, his lips on hers.  Not thinking, she pulled him closer, then felt
his cool hands on the bare skin of her back.  One of those hands
returned to her thigh, then she felt him freeze and simply hold her, his
head resting on her shoulder, his lips touching the skin below her ear.

After a few seconds, Natalie became somewhat concerned.  For a moment,
she had wondered if he was going to strip her clothes off and take her
right there.  Then she suspected he sensed this and froze again.  Since
she had suggested he take her blood, she now felt bad for possibly
making him worse off than he had been when he had arrived.

"Nick?" she said softly, turning her head and leaning back so that she
would be better able to look at him.  His eyes were gold, but he
appeared calm when their gazes eventually met.  "Nick?  Do you feel
better or worse than before?"

Gathering his thoughts, Nick closed his eyes.  He felt a now almost
overwhelming want for her, yet he also felt calm and relaxed for the
first time in days.  "Better," he muttered, smiling.  "Definitely
better.  Much better."  He gave her a sly, almost drunken grin.

"Just much better?" she asked, brushing her fingers against his lips.

"More...so much more," he whispered back, opening his now blue eyes.
His gaze dropped to where he had bitten her.  The small wounds had
barely bled, and he turned his attention to finding something to put on
them.  As he knew where she kept her supplies, in seconds he was back
with a couple of small bandages.

Natalie wished she could tell him not to bother, that she would do it
later, but as before, he was in such a good mood that she didn't want to
argue over something so trivial.  Besides that, he was paying close
attention to her bare skin rather than being obsessed with the blood
beneath it, and she felt slightly embarrassed at how his every touch
tantalised her.  The way he gazed up at her, smiling periodically,
didn't help either.

"There," he finally proclaimed, placing a second bandage and tugging her
skirt over it.  He then looked up, grinning.

"You didn't have to--"

"I wanted to."  He took Natalie by the waist and pulled her forward off
the counter and set her on her feet.  He didn't let go until he was sure
she could stand on her own.  "Have you had lunch yet?"

Surprised by the question, she stuttered, "Ah, no, I haven't."

"How about I go get it?"

Before she could tell him no, that he didn't have to, he had flown to
the door, unlocked it, and was out of sight.  She knew he would have her
lunch already in the microwave before she could catch up to him, so she
merely shook her head and returned to her desk to wait...and fix her
clothes, mainly her shirt.  She didn't notice the bandages at all,
although only now did she realise just how high he had bit her, which
caused another involuntary blush.

When Nick returned, he delivered her meal to her desk, then walked back
to the other side of the exam table, propped his elbows up on the edge,
leaned over with his chin on his hands, and watched Natalie eat.

She had a hard time not staring back.  Usually when he did this, there
was a hint of distaste somewhere, but much like the only other time he
had tasted her blood, he simply wanted to watch her.  He acted almost
drugged, like he could be watching paint dry and still be...insanely
pleased by it.  "Hmm, now what are you thinking about?"

"Not about what I was."  He continued to smile lopsidedly.  "Nothing
particularly...appropriate, considering where we are."

Natalie glanced down to her nearly empty dish.  She speared another
piece of beef, but found she couldn't bring it to her mouth.  Now her
own thoughts were in the gutter and in day-dreaming mode.  Which she was
certain was where his thoughts were.  "Just...try to not zone out with
any...fantasies in the precinct.  Stare at Schanke like that and you're
going to drive him crazy."

At this, Nick finally broke his stare, placing his forehead on his
clamped-together hands to suppress an even larger grin.

She quickly ate the rest of her lunch while Nick wasn't watching,
although she saw him peek out around his hands once.  Then, she drank
the rest of her now nearly cold hot chocolate, during which Nick
materialised in the chair across from her.  She nearly told him he
shouldn't do that, that someone might see, but realised that it didn't
really matter anymore.  "Does Schanke know you're here?"

"Yes."

Nick had resumed silently staring at her, and while she didn't mind
sitting quietly with him at the loft, this was torturous.  However,
while she had an apparently captive audience, she asked, "Does LaCroix
know?  I mean about...us, I guess."

"Probably," he said, and both his gaze and smile broke.

"Has he said anything?  He's seemed--"

"Quiet lately."

She nodded.

"Almost too quiet."

"Except for this afternoon's little...ugh, wake me when you get up next
time, will you?"  She shivered, thinking about what had happened.
"Although," she thought, "I wonder why he was, well...right there?  And
why he didn't stop me, for that matter.  Usually he avoids even touching
me."  She watched him fidget.  "Nick?  Any ideas?"

"I...I think he'll probably sleep downstairs again for a few days."

"Why would he--"  Then it hit her.  Come to think of it, the other time
he had uncharacteristically taken the couch was during her last cycle.
"Oh.  Sorry.  You could have said something.  I could stay--"

"Oh, no; I won't let you."  He again grinned, leaning forward slightly
over Natalie's desk and grabbing her empty lunch container.

"You won't let Natalie stay where?  Why?" Schanke said, entering and
approaching.

"Nothing," Nick said and turned around to face his partner, abruptly
letting go of the plastic container.

"You guys keeping something from me?  Or is this something I don't
really wanna know?"

"You don't want to know," she told him, focusing on her desk.  She also
wanted to know the why...specifically, why her state apparently bothered
LaCroix more than Nick.  "Besides, it's not as if Nick is volunteering
any answers on this, either, not that I expect them."  Seeing Nick's
grin become more intense, she added, "And you better not, Nick."

"What are you here for, anyway?" Nick said, hoping to divert his
partner's attention.  "Cohen doesn't want--"

"No, not that," Schanke stopped abruptly, reconsidered his response,
then began anew, "Although that has gotten out--rumour has it they've
already decided that you gotta redo everything.  But, no--the guy who
called it in last night...we haven't talked to him yet, and he's still
in his office at the university.  Thought you might like to get out of
the precinct for a while, so I kinda volunteered us to go over there,
instead of him coming in."

"Thanks, Skank," Nick said, standing and starting toward the door.  He
flashed another smile at Natalie before Schanke moved between them.

Then they were both gone.  First, Natalie took her lunch container back.
After she returned, she locked the doors again.  She hadn't yet had a
chance to examine Nick's bite and, while she suspected the wounds were
minor, she still wanted to see what damage had been done.

Peeling back the bandages, she was surprised to see they were
half-healed.  They were already scabbed over, as though they were a
couple of days old, not the couple dozen minutes that had actually
passed.  Replacing them, she paled, realising why they didn't appear as
she had expected.

She had tasted Nick's blood the previous night...and LaCroix' blood
during the day.  She hadn't felt much different the last twenty-four
hours, though.  Perhaps she had a bit more energy and had gotten more
work done, but most of that she blamed on worrying about Nick.  He was
her friend, and her friend had been nearly killed and was now having
what he was blasted to anyone who would listen.  And while right now she
felt downright jittery, she had a feeling that had to do with their
unplanned moment of intimacy.

On the other hand, she didn't feel even slightly affected by what Nick
had done--and she should have.  True, she had been lightheaded for a
moment, but she hadn't had any trouble standing or walking afterwards.
Rolling up her jacket sleeve, she took off her other bandage, only to
find no sign of injury beneath.  There wasn't even a scar.  It had fully
healed since sometime that morning.  Natalie discarded the latter
bandage; it was no longer necessary.  At least she wouldn't have to wear
Nick's shirt again that day.

While the discovery caught her off guard, she didn't think it was
anything to be overly concerned about, and she went to busy herself with
work.  Vampire blood in small quantities wouldn't cause much, if any,
long-term harm.  As long as she had no contact with it soon after Nick
had taken her blood, she didn't think there would be anything to worry
about.

To be honest, she was far more concerned with what LaCroix would think
or say about Nick feeding from her.  Then there was her taste of his
blood after Nick had bitten him and his displeasure at that.
Eventually, she knew, he would break his silence.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (037/111)

That night, after returning to the precinct, Nick told Cohen he didn't
want to put off any retesting that might be required.  He wanted it over
with as soon as possible so there would be no question whether he was
qualified or not.

She had taken him up on the offer rather quickly.  The very next night,
he was tested on both the firing range and the obstacle course.

Nick had passed both of those with perfect or near perfect scores.  As
expected, both of his examiners were resistors.  He had been informed of
this, of course, after the tests were completed.  He had a strong
impression that if he had tried influencing his results, he would have
been immediately disqualified.

The only remaining requirement was a psychiatric evaluation.  He had
been less thrilled about this, but he had expected it.

Nick was forced to wait until the following night to find out about when
that would be done, and was dismayed to learn that he would be tested
during the day.  He hadn't minded as much after finding out the
evaluation would require several hours.  Since he wasn't allowed in the
precinct during the day, he ended up taking the tests at the morgue.

Arriving mid-afternoon, after getting a more detailed overview of what
tests would be involved, he had asked several questions about why,
exactly, he had to take each test.  He knew he was far from perfect, and
he also knew that one of the tests would identify any pathological
aspects of his personality.  He had also asked what would happen if the
results were unacceptable, and learned that even if he failed, assuming
the results were close, it likely wouldn't affect his employment.

Without asking, they also admitted that because of what he was, they had
no idea how that would affect the results.  He didn't trust that his
test results couldn't somehow be leaked to the public, so he had asked
if the results and the actual test could be destroyed after it was
assessed.  Reluctantly his examiner had agreed, and he had made both the
psychologist and Cohen write up and sign something to that effect.

Cohen had initially been there as a courtesy.  She had left when he
started on the first test.  Natalie was also there--she had, of course,
been his transportation.  Natalie, however, had been required to stay in
the morgue itself while he and his inquisitor went to one of the
conference rooms.

The first test was apparently something he should have taken before he
was hired.  It consisted of an hour and a half answering several hundred
true or false questions.  This was the test he was most concerned about.
He tried to answer all of the questions, but a few he had left blank
after asking if that would be counted against him.

In addition, with the psychologist, he had to participate in an
interview.  The mortal hadn't focused much on what he was until the last
few questions--mainly dealing with how he had coped the last four nights
after the others had found out what he was, and if he was having any
issues either at work or otherwise.  He had answered truthfully that
very little had been said to him, and most of that was harmless.

After that, he had also had to submit to a physical examination.
Natalie was allowed to do it, since it was primarily for her use.  The
department wanted a baseline 'normal' on record in case something
happened.  And in the future, if something did happen, he would only be
cleared to return to work once his life-signs were back in that range.

While Natalie had control of that range, she quietly hinted to him
during the exam that she would actually officially clear him in the
future.  After the incident that had exposed him, she had merely
verbally cleared him--she hadn't actually performed a physical exam.

Nick had unabashedly grinned, seeing Natalie's smile when she mentioned
that, but he became serious when he noticed the psychologist glance at
him...them, actually.  She had remained as an outside observer to make
sure all of his life-signs were actually taken.  Once done, they
all--Natalie, the psychologist, and he himself--had to initial the sheet
on which Natalie had written her notes.

He had gone to wait at Natalie's desk while the psychologist gathered up
her things and his test papers to leave.  It would be two or three days
before he got the results, and he had a feeling the wait would be
agonisingly long.

And Nick still had half an hour before he could go to the precinct.
Other than Natalie and Cohen, only Schmidt and Schanke also knew he had
done the evaluations today.  He also, however, knew that higher-ups had
to know.  He suspected they were watching for every little movement and
tidbit of additional information.

"She's gone," Natalie said upon returning and walking up to her desk.

"Good," he whispered.

"How long till you get the results?"

"Two or three days.  I'll find out through Cohen."  He closed his eyes
and leaned back in the chair.  "Depending on the results, I may have to
have another interview for...clarification."

Natalie merely nodded, then walked over to him, stopping behind the
chair.  She first put her hands on his shoulders.  His muscles there
were tense, and she rubbed his shoulders until he relaxed.  Next she
raised one hand and gently brushed the back of her fingers along his
neck, along his jaw line, then up the side of his face.

At the touch, Nick leaned his head to the side and back.  The corners of
his mouth ticked up slightly, but he kept his eyes closed.  He felt the
actions repeated.  Only when she stopped and fully removed her hand did
he open his eyes to look up.

She saw a gold sheen to his eyes.  They weren't blue, but neither were
they fully gold.  He took her other hand in his and pulled it down to
rest against his chest and rubbed the back of her hand gently.  "So, how
do you feel?"

"Hmm, hungry," he murmured.

"So tests like that are as draining for vampires as they are for us
mortals?"

"I feel worse now that I'm more or less just waiting for the results
than when I found out about this.  I mean, Nat, can you honestly say I'm
mentally stable and not easily distracted at times?"

Natalie winced.  "Nick...I'm sure your service so far will be
considered--and the actual interview part of the evaluation.  You
haven't had any issues with those in the past, have you?"

"No, not really."  He again closed his eyes, then slowly released
Natalie's hand.

"So, you're hungry," she stated, walking around him and sliding between
him and her desk.  "Bottled, bagged, or fresh?"

Nick opened his eyes at the question, to find Natalie's face right in
front of his.  They both knew exactly which one he would and did want.
Not wanting to answer, he leaned forward and kissed her, then turned and
pulled her down to sit in front of him before he kissed her again, this
time on the neck.

"So, which is it?" she asked.  He stopped kissing her and simply held
her, seemingly breathing in her scent.  "Or is this your answer?"  She
tried to twist slightly in his grasp, but he pulled her more firmly
against him.  "Nick?"

He relaxed and released Natalie when she made a second attempt to move
away.  As she stood, he turned his head away and closed his eyes.

Turning and leaning forward, Natalie reached down and turned his face
back toward her.  "Nick?"

He opened his eyes, now fully gold, and moved forward in the chair as he
pulled her hand away.  Then, without warning, he pulled Natalie toward
him by the waist, so that she was now sitting on his lap facing him.

She caught herself with her hands on his shoulders, but relaxed her arms
when he kissed her.  She barely noticed his descended fangs--she had
become quite used to their presence when they kissed over the past
couple of weeks.  What she wasn't accustomed to was sitting like this.
It made her body want more right then and there.  Her kisses became
hungrier until Nick's attention shifted to her neck, her hands to his
belt, and then he abruptly and roughly grabbed her hands and held her
away from him.

"No," he said, the word barely audible through clenched teeth.  He also
closed his eyes and bowed his head.  He had to remain in control.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"  She had to stop when he kissed her
again lightly on the lips.

Holding Natalie against him and resting the side of his face against
hers, he answered, "I want you and I know you want--but we can't--  I'll
kill you.  Especially right now.  I need--"

"Then take my blood, Nick."

"It's only been a few days," he quickly protested.

"I feel fine."

"Three days, Nat.  I don't want to--"

"You won't," she emphasised, leaning back to look straight into Nick's
amber-coloured eyes.  "If you don't want to, I can take you home."

He shook his head.  "I don't want to hurt you, weaken you too much."

"Then only take a little, if you're worried.  But don't refuse out of
worry for me."  She watched his eyes close again, but just when she
expected another protest, she saw him smile, fangs and all.  Then she
felt herself being pushed back and half-lifted to her feet.

He kissed Natalie first on the lips, then her neck while he undid the
buttons on her shirt and pulled it free of her slacks.  His lips trailed
down along her collarbone, the centre of her chest and across the top
edge of one breast, before he sat in the chair again and trailed kisses
along the centre of her abdomen.

Natalie couldn't and didn't want to do anything, but again let him do
whatever he wished, whatever he had planned.  This time he teased her
skin longer than before, and when he eventually bit into her side below
her waist, almost on her hip, she realised the door was still unlocked
and anyone could come in.  That almost jolted her out of the sharp
pleasure she was now feeling, but as Nick continued to feed from her,
taking more than before, she was torn between feeling concerned and
wanting him to stop, only to take her in other ways.  And then,
abruptly, he pulled back.  The next thing she felt was Nick again
resting his face against hers, his almost warm hands wrapped around her
lower back and neck.

"I want you so much."

She smiled.  "I know.  It's okay."

Nick held her tighter and turned his head to kiss her on the cheek.
"No, it's not.  I want--I'll think of something.  Even if I have to beg
LaCroix to hold me down while--"

"No."

"It would be the only way to guarantee your safety."

She shook her head.  "No, it's not.  I could--I don't know, I could
maybe tie you down myself with some of those vampire-proof handcuffs,"
she said suggestively.  "Might be fun."

He pulled away, smiling, his eyes still gold, a corner of his mouth
twitching up even more at the suggestion.  "I don't doubt it would be."

"Would you let me?" she asked, a bit surprised he hadn't told her that
would be a bad idea.

"Maybe."  He kissed Natalie on the mouth.  The kiss was very short, and
this time when he pulled back, he turned her and sat her down in her
chair.

Natalie felt a bit dizzy from the action, then blushed when she found
him staring at her.  Momentarily he left and retrieved more bandages for
her, which she turned the chair around to apply.  Just the way he stared
made her feel like he was somehow x-raying her, which made it harder for
her to not start things up again.  While both of them, deep down, might
want that, if they did, Nick would certainly have to go back home before
going to the precinct--something she knew he didn't and wouldn't want to
have to do.  Finishing buttoning her shirt back up, she swivelled the
chair around to find him on the other side of her desk, leaning forward
on his hands, watching her.  "Are you going to do that until you leave?"

"Yes," Nick replied, and he sat in the other chair, his gaze not
budging.

Natalie couldn't suppress a smile, and she glanced down, blushing
slightly.  Checking her watch, she realised he still had at least
another twenty minutes to go before he could leave for the precinct.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (038/111)

Schanke tossed a pencil over onto his partner's desk, only to get no
reaction, and now fiddled impatiently with a second pencil.  Ever since
he had arrived, Nick had been staring across the room with the oddest
expression on his face.  It was making everyone he was facing
uncomfortable, and Schanke had been trying to get his attention.  He'd
even called his name a couple of times, to no effect.  Short of yelling
at his partner, drawing even more attention, the best idea Schanke had
come up with was throwing things at him.

First he had tried a rubber band, which had completely missed, and was
now somewhere behind Nick on the floor.  Then he had tried a balled-up
piece of paper, but that had fallen short.  Next was the pencil, but
that also hit short.  And now...Schanke threw pencil number two, and
managed to hit his partner hard up by his collar, barely below his neck.

Nick jumped, catching the offending projectile before it fell past his
upper chest.  He stared down at the pencil, then over at his partner.
"Something wrong?"

"Yeah."  Schanke looked down, then harshly whispered, "Whatever you are
thinking about...don't.  Or at least don't stare over at Mueller while
you do it.  You're giving her the heebie-jeebies."

Nick's eyes flitted to the detective in question, then back to his desk.
She didn't appear at all comfortable, and he flinched.  He, of course,
had been thinking about Natalie's earlier comment--and exactly where she
might be thinking of hooking those handcuffs.  He had also been trying
to think of an alternative.  His thoughts, of course, had strayed.

"Better yet, wait until you go home, or are at least not in the
precinct.  I don't even have to ask what you're thinking about, Knight.
It's *that* obvious."

At this, Nick winced again and started shuffling through the papers on
his desk.  Work.  He had to work and just not think.  At all.

"Oh, great," Schanke muttered.

"I didn't--"

"Not you, look."  Schanke nodded his head toward the entrance, where
Janette was saying something to the person at the front desk.

She had a sleeveless black velvet dress on with a thin scarf over her
arms, and quite a few of their coworkers had noticed her.  Those that
hadn't, did once she entered the bullpen and started right toward Nick.

He merely gave her a glance before turning back to Schanke and sinking
slightly in his chair, not that it would help.  He couldn't think why
Janette would be there.  He hadn't even noticed her arrival--he had been
too preoccupied.  Already he could hear his co-workers starting to
speculate in whispers.  Feeling Janette touch his neck, he jerked his
head away.  When she again touched the side of his face, he pulled away
again and swivelled his chair away.  "Why are you here, Janette?"

"You don't want to see me, Nicolas?" she replied with a frown.

"What do you want, Janette?"

"I'm here to invite you to the Raven's Halloween...party."

He shook his head.  "I'm not--"

Janette approached and leaned down, then whispered, "Oui, you will come,
Nicolas."

"We're working that night.  I'll have to be here."  He turned away
again, then added, "Natalie is working, too."

Janette straightened, stiffening.  "We shall see."  She walked straight
for Cohen's office.  She had reached the door and was told to enter
before Nick had even managed to stand to follow.  She gave him a slight
smirk as she entered and closed the door behind her, at which Nick
leaned back in his chair, worried.

"What's she doing?"

"Trying to get us off for Halloween night, I think."  He shook his head
again.

"That wouldn't be so bad, though, would it?" Schanke mused, his
attention drifting.  "Granted, I'm not sure dressing up like Dracula is
much better than here..."

"Dressing up like...?"

"Don't ask.  Jenny.  Actually, she wanted me to ask if you'd come
and--see, you're *cooler*.  Your fangs are--"

"Built in."

"Exactly.  Which, by the way, I know you got 'em, but I only caught a
glimpse that one time.  I've never really seen...well, you know what I
mean."

Nick smiled back at that.  If they weren't in the precinct, he might
have given his partner a flash of his fangs, but too many people were
watching him right now.  Then he heard the door to Cohen's office open
and he looked up and over.  Janette was on her way back.  "She refused,
right?"

"Au contraire.  She agreed you could use the night off.  Especially that
night."

Nick closed his eyes.

"I believe she said you will still be 'on call', but we shall expect you
at the Raven."

"We?" he asked, looking up.

Janette came around behind her brother, placing her hands on his
shoulders and again whispered in his ear.  "He will be there...and
expects you to be, also.  A costume is required."

"No, Janette--"

"Yes, Nicolas.  He will provide one, if you don't find something
yourself."  Then, after she took in a slow deep breath, inhaling the
sweet aroma of her brother's blood, she added, "I can smell her on you,
Nicolas."

He stiffened.

"Or, I should say, *in* you..."  She pulled away, only for Nick to grab
her arm, holding her in place.

"Will you--"

"I will not tell him.  He already knows about before, anyway," she
continued in a low whisper.  Straightening, she turned toward the mortal
and forcefully smiled.  "You are also invited, Detective Schanke."  At
that, she turned and left as quickly as she came.

"What did she tell you, Nick?" Schanke asked.

"Knight," Cohen called from her office.

"Later, Schanke," Nick said, standing and heading to the office to fix
whatever Janette had done.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"So, you decide what you're wearing to the Raven tomorrow night?"
Schanke asked shortly after Nick got to work that Monday night.  "You
haven't, have you?  For Pete's sake, you've had five days.  Five!
Almost a week, and--"

"I'm going to go with whatever--"

"That creep picks?  Are you nuts?"

"He's not--it'll be better than anything I come up with, Skank."

Schanke grimaced and tried a different angle.  "So what about Natalie?"

"The same."

"But what if he--what if he picks something--"  Schanke held his thumb
and index finger of one hand close together, as if he were holding a
very small bead between them.  "Considering that porno picture at his
place, it might be...you know, itty bitty, lacking, inapprop--"

"I'm sure it'll be fine.  Knowing him, it'll be something historical,
and women have typically shown less skin than men.  I'm more worried
about me than--" he abruptly cut off, the whispers around the precinct
abruptly changing.  He closed his eyes to focus more closely on them,
and suddenly felt sick.  That damning video of the vampire murders had
finally been broadcast.

"Nick?  What's--" Schanke had started to ask what had happened, then
stopped when he heard something, too.  He walked toward a couple of the
others who had gathered around a television.  He was too late, but
within moments, the clip was shown again.  "Oh, gee.  Nick, you gotta
see this."

Nick remained in his chair.  He didn't have to see it.  He already heard
the familiar audio of the clip.  And he could hear the reporter
commenting about it.  He had no need or desire to see it again.  He
couldn't help but feel this was on purpose.

He had only been cleared the previous night.  He had barely failed the
psychological test, but passed the others with no problems.  The
psychologist had asked for some clarification on a few items the
previous morning, then finally gave him a pass on that one shortly
before leaving.  And now, barely half a day later...this.

Schanke had returned to his desk and, like a few days before, found his
partner lost in thought.  Throwing another pencil at him, he hissed,
"Knight!  Is that the video you--"

"Yes."  Nick didn't look up, but tossed the pencil back a bit more
harshly than necessary.  The video being broadcast meant the world in
general now knew exactly what vampires were capable of.  Not merely
words describing what they could do, that they were faster and stronger,
but a real, unabashed example of what they could do.  And this time,
strong negative opinions were tainting the broadcast.  Those in the
video were being called murderers...unnecessarily violent, barbaric, and
inhuman murderers.  The two vampires had taken pleasure in not only
feeding, but then there was the unbridled brutality in the other
murders.  They had killed for no conceivable reason.  It was one thing
to kill to survive--most mortals could understand that, even if they
didn't agree with it--but quite another to kill for fun or simply
because they could.

"Is it...real?"

Nick turned his gaze back to his partner.  Already he could hear murmurs
about him, wondering how recently he had murdered anyone like the
vampires on the tape, and whether he and Janette had ever teamed up and
slaughtered people in that same manner.  Others were refuting them,
either saying that it didn't matter what he had done in the past, or
that they didn't believe he was like that and had ever done such a
thing.  More of what he heard was true, rather than false, and Nick
tried to again focus on his partner and remember Schanke's question.
"Yes, it's real."

"We should tell Cohen."

"She's already seen it, Schanke."

"Yeah, but she should know it made the news."

Nick nodded and let Schanke go.  Next, he picked up the phone, first
dialling Natalie's number, then hanging up before adding the final
digit.  Instead, he called the Raven.  Janette and LaCroix should know
about this, and if LaCroix wasn't at the Raven, then Janette would know
where he was.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (039/111)

Nick started awake the following evening when something heavy--and metal
sounding--dropped onto the bed behind him.  He didn't move from where he
held Natalie in front of him, his hands wrapped around her waist, his
lips on the back of her neck, which he kissed.

Already awake from Nick's abrupt jerk, Natalie turned in his grasp to
see LaCroix standing behind him.  "What time is it?"

"Seven," LaCroix answered.  "Janette is expecting both of you in an
hour...at the latest."

Nick closed his eyes.  He hadn't thought it was that late.  Waiting
until his sire left the room and shut the door, he shifted, sitting up.
Then he looked at the items that had been dropped on the bed.  Behind
him was what could only be LaCroix' choice for Janette's Halloween
party--it appeared to be Roman military clothing.  He groaned.  Maybe he
should have picked his own costume.

"Nick?"

Pushing the comforter away, he winced, hearing the maille slink off of
the bed and onto the floor.

"What was that?" she asked, sitting up.  First, she noticed the items on
the very edge of the bed next to Nick, and it was obvious what LaCroix'
clothing choice for Nick was.  On her own side were several shades of
blue fabric, folded and stacked.  "Okay, I know roughly what you're
apparently going as, but what's...this?" she asked, pulling on the
top-most piece of fabric, which appeared to be nothing more than a
rather large, dark blue, thick-ish scarf.

Nick turned his attention, and he reached for the other items, which
felt like silk and fine linen, and spread them out.  "A dress of some
sort."

"I could have guessed that," she said, shoving him lightly on her last
word.  "What goes on first?"

"That one, I think."  Nick pointed at the lightest, nearly white tunic
with an embroidered hem.

She grabbed it, got out of the bed, and went to the bathroom, shutting
the door.

Nick's attention turned to the rest, and figuring it wouldn't be long
until either Natalie came back out or LaCroix came up to see if they
were dressed, he stripped off his clothes and donned the red tunic.  The
bold fabric didn't even reach his knees.  He had barely managed to put
on the leather vest and the silver-coloured scale maille that had fallen
on the floor, when Natalie exited the bathroom.

"What's next?  Other than getting a picture of you in that," she said
with a smile, giving him a long look-over, "but I'm not going anywhere
in only this.  It's a lot thinner than I thought..."

He glanced down, muttered sorry with a little smile, then grabbed the
actual dress and took it to Natalie.  He went back to the side of the
bed the rest of his items were on, and watched out of the corner of his
eyes as she slipped the second layer on.  He, meanwhile, donned the
sandals and shin guards.

By now Natalie was struggling with the buttons holding the dress
together at the shoulders.  There were several on each side, and she
hadn't even finished with one side.  "Nick, could you--"  Before she had
the question out, he was there, helping.  "Thanks."

At that point the door opened and LaCroix entered, just as Nick finished
with the last buttons on Natalie' dress.  He was dressed in his usual
black, and he grinned at the two.

Nick's eyes narrowed.  "What are you going as?  I'm certainly not
wearing this if--"

"I will change at the Raven."  LaCroix' attention shifted to Natalie,
then to the remaining layer of fabric strewn on the corner of the bed.
"Finish dressing, Nicholas," he said, not turning away from the mortal.
Once his son had moved away, he approached.  "Turn around, Doctor."

She hesitated, but turned.  Closing her eyes, she felt him touch her
hair, gently pull it back, then twist it into what felt like a loose bun
before securing it.  Then, after a pause, she found him walking in front
of her.  He tightened a belt or rope around her waist and adjusted the
cloth of the dress.  Then he draped the blue cloth around her, under one
arm, and secured it on her left shoulder with some kind of broach.

"Acceptable," he said, then turned his attention toward his son.  "Be
certain you are not late."  LaCroix practically vanished, flying from
the room.

After a moment, she asked, "Is he gone?  As in gone from the loft?"

"Yes, he's gone."  He picked up Natalie's sandals, which were on the
floor, and handed them to her.  "I'll be down soon.  You should eat."

Natalie nodded and went downstairs.  First she started heating
something.  Then she sat at the kitchen table and messed with the
sandals.  She wasn't used to dealing with so much fabric, and by the
time she had one shoe on, she wished she had taken the shawl or whatever
one would call it, off.  Her food was ready, but she let it sit while
she tied the laces on the other shoe.  She wasn't sure she'd done it
properly, but at least they matched.

Waiting, she also pulled out a bottle of blood and filled a glass for
Nick, leaving the bottle next to the table before she got her food and
started to eat.  She was half-done by the time Nick came down the
stairs, quite noiselessly, considering how much metal he had on.

Nick, now with a broad belt, sword, dagger, and cape, spied the glass
and immediately downed it.  He really didn't want to go the party, and
he was already getting stressed.

"Should I ask if all of that is comfortable?" Natalie asked, her
expression betraying her doubtful opinion.

"It's fine," Nick assured her.  "Although it'd be better if it were
longer.  LaCroix had better be in something equally--"

"Revealing?" she suggested, got a bit of a wince in reply, then asked,
"What do you think he'll be wearing?"

"No idea."  Nick refilled his glass, then put the bottle away.  After
all, he would have however much he wanted--and more--at the Raven.  He
sat, winced again slightly at feeling his thighs so grudgingly exposed
to the rather chilly chair, and slowly drank his second glass.

"So, what are you, exactly?"

"Centurion," Nick replied.  "Judging by the helmet."

"What helmet?"

"I'll...show you later."  When her eyes lit up in anticipation, he
quickly added, "I'm not wearing it."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Natalie had driven them to the Raven.  Like Nick, she was also on call,
and considering what they were wearing, there was no way she would let
him fly her anywhere.

Arriving, Natalie grabbed for the helmet before he could toss it out of
reach.  Before they left, she had managed to convince him to put it on.
He had taken it back off almost immediately, and tried to leave it at
the loft.  She had been the one who brought it.  She had a feeling
LaCroix would notice it was missing--and another item, too, that Nick
had 'accidentally' left and hadn't told her about until they were nearly
at the Raven.  He claimed it was essentially a whipping rod.

Getting out, she took the helmet with her.  Despite her long layers of
fabric, Natalie was amused to find that Nick was the one who had more
trouble getting into and out of the car.  He had needed to take parts of
his costume off--namely the shin guards, or greaves, as he called them,
and the sturdy sheathed sword.  Roman soldiers and late-twentieth
century automobiles did not mix.

She walked around the car to his side and waited while he retied the
former.  Once he had done that, stood, and re-affixed his sword, Natalie
held the helmet out to him.  He reluctantly took it, and she noticed the
street across from the Raven was once again occupied.  These people
clearly had nothing to do with the party; those closer to the club were
all costumed in some way.

Nick struggled to find a way to hold the helmet and Natalie at the same
time, but managed it after she also snaked her hand around his waist.
They walked like this to the door, and were immediately allowed inside.
He led them up to the bar, where Janette stood.

Janette wore a black and red dress that Nick had seen her in several
times before, but in addition, she wore matching black and blood-red
fairy wings.  Their black glitter sparkled when she moved and as the
lights changed and flashed.  She smiled upon seeing her brother, and
almost immediately, she closed the distance between them and kissed him
on the cheek.

"Where is he?" he asked, clearly not amused by Janette's kiss, her
smile, or what he was wearing.

"You can't miss him, Nicolas."

"Where, Janette?"

Janette changed her line of sight slightly, so that she was looking
between Nick and Natalie.

Nick turned and found LaCroix smiling at him--in a very similar outfit.
The exception was that he didn't have the leather under-vest, and his
armour was a single, moulded plate in front and back.  This was gold,
rather than the silver-toned of Nick's armour.  LaCroix also sported a
longer, bright red cloak or cape.  He much more fit the part of a true
Roman soldier than Nick, whose longer hair appeared somewhat out of
place.  Nick seemed a little more wild or savage--that, or like an
overgrown boy playing soldier--whereas LaCroix appeared his usual
commanding self.

LaCroix also appeared far more comfortable, while Nick nervously shifted
his helmet to his other hand and pulled Natalie closer.

"And what are you?" Natalie asked.  To her, he and Nick appeared to be
dressed almost identically.

"General Lucius, of course."  He moved forward so that his and his son's
arms were touching, then whispered, "A drink?"

"I'm not the bartender."

"No, but only you can make what I want...perfectly.  I'm sure Miklos
won't mind."  Then, forcibly turning his son, making him release
Natalie, LaCroix pulled the younger man against him.  "Two, Nicholas."

Nick pulled away and, putting his helmet on the counter, went around to
the back of the bar.  "Nat?"

"Er, what?" she asked, a bit surprised he had addressed her.

"While I'm here, I might as well get whatever you want--if you want
anything," he said, pulling down two glasses.

"Just wine."  Then, after a second, she specified, "Red."  She watched
Nick pull out a third glass, then walk a few paces down before returning
with a bottle of wine.  Natalie caught a glimpse of the label--a
merlot--and he filled two of the glasses about a third full with the
wine.  He then filled the third--hers--full, and handed it across the
counter.  After she took it, she watched him add similar amounts of
first blood--more in one than the other--then, after some hunting, he
came back with a jar of honey, which he put several dollops of in each
drink--again, slightly more in one than the other, but switched from the
blood.  He next retrieved a spoon, and she watched him mix the odd
concoctions.  Finally, discarding the utensil, he put one glass up on
the bar, and kept the other in his hand as he walked back around to once
again stand behind Natalie.

LaCroix took his drink and tried a sip, then simultaneously cringed and
smiled, the latter winning.

"Satisfactory?" Nick asked, the word curt and quick.

"Very."

Nick closed his eyes as his sire walked off, then opened them when he
felt a gentle tug on his glass.  Natalie had pulled it almost out of his
hand.  "Nat?"

"So, what does it taste like?"

"Hard to explain," he whispered back, trying to pull his glass back, but
she refused to let go.  "You don't want to try it."

Natalie raised her eyebrows.  "I've already tried the regular version,
Nick.  I already know it's supposedly safe.  And, anyway, I'm not
planning to have more than a tiny sip."

He closed his eyes again, relaxing his hold on the wine glass.  If she
really wanted a taste, she could probably make her own at his loft;
there was no point in delaying, only to make her more curious.

Taking the drink, she tasted the mixture.  The taste of blood wasn't as
strong this time.  Even she could probably drink the entirety of it if
she tried--or perhaps LaCroix' glass, since his had more honey and less
blood in it.  The mix of honey and wine made the whole combination ever
so slightly sweet.  It actually reminded her a lot of what Nick's blood
had tasted like, except this was obviously a much stronger flavour,
being mostly edible.  Handing the glass back, she asked, "And you can
drink this?"

"Barely, but yes," he said, taking a large sip, which he forced down
with more difficulty than she had had with her taste of it.  Out of the
corner of his eye, he noticed Janette watching them.  LaCroix had once
again vanished.  Taking another drink from his glass, he watched Natalie
examine his every reaction.  He moved to lean against the counter, and
turned Natalie so she was facing away from him, then pulled her back.

Natalie wasn't too surprised by Nick's action.  The last time she had
been at the Raven, he had held her protectively like this.  And like
that time, they looked out at the others at the club.  She could almost
tell who was mortal or vampire by the quality of the individual's
costume.  Most of the vampires wore historically accurate clothes.  That
didn't hold true for all, of course; Janette obviously broke this mould
with her fairy wings, and there were bound to be a few mortals among
those with more historical-type costumes.  She herself fell into that
last category.

They idly watched the other patrons for a long while.  Natalie finished
her wine.  Nick finished the wine, blood, and honey mixture and drank
two glasses of plain blood to cleanse his palate of the odd beverage.
At some point during this time, Janette left the actual club floor, and
around that same time, Natalie noticed that LaCroix had returned.  He
had also finished his drink, but now appeared rather pale...even for
him.

"More, Nicholas?"

"LaCroix--"

"Or perhaps Natalie could prepare it this time," he said, lowering his
gaze slightly toward her.  "Would you, Doctor?"

She stiffened slightly, but shifted a little away from Nick so she could
see his expression, his thoughts.  He seemed disapproving, but nodded to
her as if allowing her to choose.  Turning back to LaCroix, but not
quite meeting his eyes, she answered, "Sure.  It probably won't be the
same, though."

"I'm sure it will be more than adequate.  You are observant enough that
it may even be exactly the same."

Natalie hesitantly pulled away from Nick, then went behind the bar,
where the bartender glared at her and started to approach until LaCroix
shooed him away with a wave of his hand.  Then he set both his glass and
Nick's in front of her and smirked.  Trying to blot him out of her
vision, she tried to remember where Nick had put the wine bottle.
Finding it, she filled both glasses about a third full and replaced it.
She had a bit more trouble finding a bottle of human blood--the one Nick
had used was missing, likely empty by now.  She got a replacement from
the bartender after LaCroix nodded to him.  The man's eyes remained on
her while she added the ingredient--which, by the feel of the bottle,
had been ever so slightly warmed.  She found the honey more easily than
Nick had--he had left that at this end of the bar.  She tried to
remember how many dollops he had put in each glass, but wasn't sure if
she had the right number--one too many, or one too few.

Wishing the three would stop watching her, she stirred the drinks, set
them in front of the two men, then quickly returned to the other side of
the bar, next to Nick.  She was thankful when the bartender was
distracted by another customer and his gaze left her, but then she
tensed, watching LaCroix take a tentative sip of his beverage.

Lowering his drink, LaCroix smiled at her, his approval clear in every
aspect of his expression.  "Yes, you are quiet observant."

She relaxed when he walked off again, but now it was Nick's turn.  So
far he hadn't even picked up his own glass.  "Nick?"

He turned, glanced at Natalie, then gingerly poked his drink.  He really
wasn't sure if he wanted more of the concoction.  More than a glassful
usually made him sick.  But knowing that he should be fine as long as he
had more straight blood after, he cautiously picked it up and sipped at
it, this time with even smaller and more forced swallows than before.
It was going to take a long time to drink this second serving.

Pulling Natalie in front of him again, he kissed her on the neck.  If
nothing else, it was nice here.  Very few whispered about him; most were
simply trying to relax, either dancing to the music, watching the crowd,
like he was, or otherwise preoccupied with other varied guests.
Considering how he had originally dreaded coming to this party, he found
himself glad Janette had managed to get them the night off.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (040/111)

"Nick?"

Turning at the voice of the bartender, he winced when he saw the other
man point at the phone.  He closed his eyes and groaned, then pulled
Natalie, whom he had been holding against him, closer.  "Nat," he said,
leaning down, his lips touching her ear.  "I have a feeling we might be
leaving."

Natalie glanced back, then saw the bartender with the phone in his hand.
She moved forward so that Nick wasn't wedged between her and the bar,
then followed him over to the phone.

"Knight," he said, grudgingly accepting the phone from the bartender.

"I'm sorry, but your night of fun is now over, Detective," Cohen said.
"And before you ask, no you may not go home and change.  Schanke already
tried that, and I told him no."

Nick winced.  He had definitely planned to ask.  Dropping in on a crime
scene dressed as a Roman centurion was even further from his idea of fun
than being at the Raven dressed like one...although the latter hadn't
turned out that bad.

"Is Dr. Lambert there?"

"Yeah, she's here."

"Good.  Now..."

Nick listened to the address and rough description of the scene,
confirmed the first, then hung up.

"So?"

"Stabbing."

"A stabbing," she repeated, then couldn't help but smile a little as she
looked him over.  "And you in red."

Nick flinched again.  He hadn't thought of that.  He was more concerned
with the mixture he had drunk and how that was making him feel.  More
blood hadn't really helped, and he couldn't drink water like Natalie had
after her first--and only--drink.  "Go on, I'll meet you at the door."

She gave him a smile, then left.

After Natalie departed, Nick scanned for Janette.  He didn't see her,
but he did spot LaCroix in the most secluded booth, glaring out at the
dance floor.  He approached and leaned forward.  "Tell Janette that
Natalie and I had to leave."

"Did the mortals call you away?"

"You know they did, LaCroix," he replied, immediately turning away to
leave.

"Nicholas?"

Reluctantly, he turned back.  "What?"

LaCroix grinned.  "I will not be staying at your loft tomorrow."

"Where will you be?"

"Perhaps I haven't decided yet."  He half-laughed.  "And perhaps you
shouldn't know for your own protection...and mine, of course."

Nick's concern turned to disgust at the implication.  He could believe
it, though.  LaCroix had always enjoyed targeting mortals on this
particular night--and this year, it might even be easier.  "Please tell
Janette we had to leave," he repeated, then turned and walked away
before his sire could further delay him.

At the door, Natalie was waiting and found herself quickly shunted out
of the club.  "Nick?"  But he didn't answer, not even as they got into
her car.  He got rid of his sword again, but managed to get in the car
with the greaves still on.  "Okay, where to?"

He told her, then quickly focused out the window.  He wasn't sure
LaCroix really was planning to hunt, to kill someone that morning, but
his thoughts had locked onto the one thing he now knew for sure--LaCroix
wouldn't be at the loft that day.  It would just be him and Natalie.
That was the only thought on his mind as she drove them away from the
Raven.

When Natalie pulled up behind a squad car and reached into the back seat
for her bag, she watched Nick snap out of his thoughts, his gaze
focusing almost blankly on her.  "Ready?"

"Depends on what I'm supposed to be ready *for*," he whispered.  He was
more ready to see the bloodied victim than he was to be stared at,
honestly.  Natalie took off the scarf-like third layer of her dress and
adjusted the rest of the fabric so that it wasn't so long, and he
reluctantly took off the knee-length cloak that was pinned to his
shoulders.

Finally getting out, he walked pointedly behind Natalie--not that it
helped hide him any.  One of the officers outside whistled after him on
his way into the house.

"Here," she abruptly said, stopping, turning, and holding out a pair of
latex gloves.

He took them and put them on, then scanned for his partner.  He could
smell blood, and started toward it.  Schanke was coming out of the
kitchen, unmistakably dressed as Dracula--hair slicked back and
all--minus a cape and some fake fangs, and Nick grinned at that.  "So,
Jenny still got her vampire?"

"Yeah, but I think she'd rather have had a vampire in that get-up,"
Schanke said, eyeing Nick's costume.  "Nice legs, Partner.  Although
you're about blinding me here in that dress of yours."

"Thanks a lot, Skank," he said sarcastically.  He nodded toward the room
his partner had just exited and from where the blood scent emanated.
"What is it?"

"Er, actually...it's pretty bad."

"A stabbing, yeah.  Cohen said that on the phone."

Schanke paled slightly.  "Yeah, but--  Nick, she was stabbed probably a
good couple of dozen times.  And there's a ton of blood all over the
place.  It's like someone--"  He stopped before finishing his
explanation and simply said, "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

Nick hesitated until he felt Natalie's hand touch his arm.  He looked at
her for a second, her concern obvious, then he forced a smile out.  "Who
found her?" he asked, turning back toward his partner.

"Husband and son.  They're both in the living room.  Just came back from
some haunted corn maze thing when they found her."  Schanke turned and
walked back into the kitchen as he said, "Neighbours either weren't
home, or didn't see anything."

Nick followed, pausing when his eyes caught on the blood-smeared
counter, cabinets, and linoleum behind the woman's body.  She only wore
her undergarments; the rest of her clothes were bloodied and torn off,
seemingly thrown in a corner.  Most of the stab wounds were in her
torso, although there were a couple of defensive wounds on her arms.

"Like I said, not your typical stabbing.  More like a pincushion or a
human voodoo doll...and no sign of the weapon, of course."

"Which was?" Nick softly asked as he approached, guarded.

Natalie walked in front of him, then knelt in the one blood-free spot
near the body.

"Haven't found it yet," Schanke answered.  "But the chef's knife is
missing from the block on the counter..."

"That would probably match the knife wounds, all twenty...yep, looks
like at least twenty-four," she said while she did a quick count, then
searched for other wounds.  "There is also a head wound at the base of
the skull."  She stood and moved out of the way, letting Nick take her
place.  "And I won't know for sure until I do the autopsy, but the
wounds--"

"The wounds are shallow, which could point to a weaker attacker," Nick
finished.  He tried focusing on the woman and the pattern of the blood,
but he felt simultaneously sick and hungry, so he closed his eyes.  He
should have had another glass of plain blood before leaving the Raven.
That damnable drink of LaCroix' was disagreeing with him.

"You don't look so hot, pal," Schanke whispered, leaning over next to
his partner to get a good look at him.

"It's nothing."

"Look, you don't have to stay in here.  I know this room has got to be
like...er, spilt dinner ten times over, but--"

"That's not it, Schanke."  He opened his eyes and quickly stood.

"Is that drink disagreeing with you?" Natalie whispered.

"What drink?" Schanke asked.  "You're not drunk or something, are you?"

"No, he's not drunk.  Let's just say he had two glasses of something
more or less edible to us mortals.  Not what his stomach is used to
digesting."

"Kinda looks like he's gonna lose it," Schanke whispered to Natalie.
"All over the place, and--"

"You do know I can hear you, right?" Nick said, glaring at his partner.

"Sorry.  Anyway..."  Then Schanke turned away and began examining the
blood smears, which at least got Nick focused on something specific,
even if his partner's descriptions were a little too crass, especially
with how he currently felt.  Then, after they had gone over pretty much
everything in the kitchen, they went to the living room to question the
husband and son.

The boy, twelve, was actually the victim's stepson.  His father had
retained custody of the boy after divorcing his first wife eight years
before.  The ex-wife had been deemed unfit to have even visitation
rights, and the last the husband had heard, she was undergoing some sort
of mental health treatment.

From that, both detectives immediately suspected the ex-wife, and
Schanke made a note of her name.  The boy had recognised Nick from the
news, which then made the father rather nervous--to the point that he
couldn't talk to them anymore.

That bothered Nick more than he liked to admit, even though he knew the
man had barely been able to answer their questions before he found out
what he was and probably would have shut down soon anyway.  The husband
didn't appear to be coping well at all.

Once they were nearly finished, Nick excused himself and told Schanke
that he would meet him back at the precinct.  Finding Natalie ready to
leave, they headed toward her car.  His pace faltered when he saw a news
crew, but his partner was already dealing with that.

Arriving at Natalie's car, Nick pulled her back and against him.  "I'm
going to go back to the loft and get rid of this," he said directly into
her ear.  "Want me to bring some clothes by the morgue?"

Natalie stopped when he seized her by the waist, smiling as she turned
toward him.  "Hmm, yes.  And, Nick, make sure you bring more than a
suit, if you know what I mean."  She stressed the last few words in less
than a whisper, and picked at her bare shoulder under the dress.

"Yes, my lady," he whispered back, kissing Natalie on her cheek, right
in front of her ear.  He let his lips linger, his eyes drifting to her
now covered shoulder, then he smiled and closed his eyes as he inhaled
her tantalising scent for a few seconds.

"Hmm," she said again, wishing they didn't have to leave--and didn't
have to go work, either.  "And be sure to drink something while you're
there."  She turned slightly and noticed the news crew had the camera
pointed toward them, at which she pried his hands away, "And let go,
Nick.  That camera is aimed right at us.  Not that I mind you holding me
like this, but..."

He released Natalie abruptly, giving a split second glance toward the
news crew before turning back to her, who was now facing him.  "See you
in a little bit," he said, then started walking away.  He disappeared
between two houses before taking to the sky.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Natalie arrived back at the loft shortly after sunrise, and found Nick
lying sprawled on his bed, apparently asleep.  Instead of simply
changing for bed, she decided to take a shower, and brought clothes to
change into with her into Nick's bathroom.  She preferred the shower in
there because it was larger, but only used it when LaCroix wasn't there.
And today, he was nowhere to be seen.

Soon after getting in and soaking her hair through with water, she
stiffened, hearing what sounded like the door to the bathroom first open
and then close.  "Nick?"  After a second, she heard the shower door
rattle, and she could see where someone had put their hands up against
the door.  "Nick, please tell me that's you."

"It's me," he whispered, his head bowed.

She reached for the door and tried to pull it open a little bit, but he
moved his hand and held it shut.  "Nick, what are you doing in here?"

"I want...no, I *need* to talk to you."

"Now?"

"Yes, now.  Remember--"  He abruptly stopped, then tried again.
"Remember when I said I'd think of some way to--without cuffing me
to--Nat, if you want to try--if--"

"Nick, just come out with it."

"I could kill you."

Natalie tensed.  Even through the frosted glass, she could hear, almost
see his anguish.  "Nick, you could have killed me--"

"Wait, please, just--"  Again he paused.  "I can leave right now, if you
want.  But if you seriously want to try...being together, then you could
turn the water to cold, and--and it might make it less likely I'll--I
might be able to take my own blood to--"  He shook his head.
"Natalie...I could still kill you.  And LaCroix isn't here if--there's
no safety net this way.  Not that I would call him a safety net, but--"

"Come in, Nick," she said in an instant to cut off his rambling, then
she turned the water down as cold as it would go.  While doing this
would be a risk, in her opinion it would be worth it.  And she didn't
think he'd kill her.  He hadn't had any trouble stopping the other times
he had taken her blood; surely this wouldn't be too different.

"You have to understand that if I bite you when we--I very likely won't
be able to stop."

"Then bring me across."

"I might take too much to do even that!" he countered, desperate to make
her understand.

"But you might do that at any time, right?" 

"Yes," he whispered.  "I want you, Natalie.  I want you right now."

"Then come in and take me."  Again she tried to push the door open, and
this time, after a second, he released the glass.  He was wearing his
red and black robe...and nothing else.  His eyes were gold as he looked
her up and down, and they deepened or brightened somehow when she
reached forward to undo the belt and push the fabric back off.  Then she
took his hands and slowly pulled him forward, both frightened and
nervous, yet willing to accept whatever might happen.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (041/111)

Natalie woke several times that day.  The first time, she had found Nick
holding her, his head buried in her still wet hair.  She had apparently
fallen back to sleep almost immediately.

The second time, she found herself alone in the bed.  When she shifted
position, she discovered she hurt a little from what they had done.  She
didn't hurt nearly as much as she felt she should have, but some things
lingered.  She closed her eyes, only to see Nick standing there, naked
at the shower door, and then she remembered all that had transpired that
morning.

After he had joined her, he had simply held her back against him with
his hands on her stomach, the cold water raining down on them for what
felt like several minutes.  When she started to shiver from the cold
water, he had taken her almost impersonally from behind.  She had to
admit it had hurt.  So much so that afterwards, even when she saw Nick's
blood wash down her body after he had climaxed and fed from his wrist,
she was afraid when he turned her and she saw his still hungry gaze.

When he had kissed her, his blood had tasted somehow different, although
she hadn't been able to think how, since he had lifted her up at that
point and took her again, her back pressed against the wall.  That time
had been less painful, but she could see and feel his strength, his
sheer desire for her.  It was far more lustful than romantic, although
frankly she hadn't much cared--not then and not now.

After that second time, he had become almost dazed, and he had hungrily
begun anew, shoving her rather hard into the tiles.  She had seen worry
flicker in his eyes for a moment, and he had ended their rapidly
intensifying tryst right there.  He had kissed her again, deeply, then
abruptly left.

Nick had needed more blood, she knew.  His breath had smelled of it
after she had somewhat painfully finished her shower, then dressed and
returned to the bedroom.

And now, there she was, still alone in the bed.  She sat up, mostly
pain-free, probably thanks to the small amounts of Nick's blood she had
tasted.  She glanced at the alarm clock, only to see it barely read
noon.

Natalie got up and left the bedroom.  Even from the balcony, she could
see him lying stiffly on the couch, his hands crossed above his heart.
Walking slowly down the stairs, her eyes caught on two bottles of blood
sitting on the coffee table.  One was completely empty, the other barely
a third full.  Ignoring them, she knelt on the floor in front of him and
gently touched the side of his face.  He didn't react.  "Nick?" she
said, again brushing her fingers along his jaw line, this time
continuing back across his lips.

He smiled and woke at the touch.  "Hmm, what are you doing down here?"

"I think I should be asking you that."

"I needed--"

She again put her fingers to his lips, silencing him.  "You don't need
to explain.  Just come back up to bed, okay?"

Nick abruptly sat up, then turned away from her, knowing his eyes were
gold.

"Don't do that, Nick."

"Don't do what?"

"Look away from me like that."  She reached out and turned him back so
that their eyes met.  "It doesn't bother me."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea," he said, changing the topic back to her
earlier suggestion.

"And you sleeping down here is better?"

He started to reply, but instead shook his head.

Natalie reached behind her to the table and shoved the mostly empty
bottle into his hands.

He drank some from the bottle.  His eyes returned to their normal blue,
but that didn't make him any less hungry.  What he wanted didn't come
neatly packaged in green glass.  He forced a smile to his lips as he
lowered the bottle, setting it on the floor.  Then he found Natalie
grabbing his arms and tugging, at which he gracefully swung his feet to
the floor and stood.

"Come with me back to your room, Nick," she said, then a moment later,
felt him seize her by the waist.  She felt dizzy, almost ill, as he flew
them both up to the walkway, setting her down in front of the door.  Her
stomach settled instantly and she smiled as Nick grinned down on her.
"Or I suppose that works, too."

He eagerly followed Natalie back into the bed, not entirely of his own
will.  His want for her blood half pulled him toward her and he couldn't
refuse her feather-light touch.  Once back in the bed, however, he
pushed her away from him.  "Please, Nat, I need--you need to--"

"What do you need?" she asked, leaning toward him as he lay back.

He couldn't say it; he knew she would freely give it to him if he spoke
of his need, his want.  She would offer up her blood without hesitation.
"No," he said through gritted teeth.  "Just please--"  He had to stop,
gasping when she moved, straddled him, then leaned forward and pinned
his arms down.  His fangs descended, and it took all his will to not
take her again, during which he'd likely kill her.

Then she kissed him, and he tasted her sweet blood when she purposely
sliced her tongue on his fangs.  He broke free of her hands, and pulled
her closer.  He neither wanted the kiss to stop, nor for her to move
away.  If she did the latter, he might assuage his hunger more
thoroughly via an artery.  When her blood all but disappeared, he felt
Natalie repeat her action and his mouth was once again flooded with her
blood.  This time, the sweet liquid started to calm him.  It was what he
wanted and needed...enough that he started to feel in control again,
even if only marginally.  Once she finally pulled back, he rolled her
and pinned her down, smiling with his blood-stained lips.

"Better?" she asked, looking up at him.

"In some ways," he whispered before he kissed the corner of Natalie's
mouth.  He shifted so that he was lying next to her and resting his head
on her shoulder.  He was out before he could think, his dreams taking
over his consciousness.

Natalie softly called his name at first, then ruffled his hair slightly
when she sensed him unresponsive, finally turning her head and kissing
his forehead before she, too, tried to return to sleep.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Minutes past sunset, LaCroix stood in the doorway to his son's bedroom.
Partway through the day, he had sensed strange and indistinct emotions
from the younger man.  His first impression was that, left alone, he had
killed his mortal doctor friend and was in some sort of shock.

Now, standing within arms' reach, he could tell that Natalie was still
very much alive.  He could smell her blood.  He cringed at other,
fainter scents.  His son had somehow consummated their relationship and
managed to not kill his lover in the process.

Approaching even further, he found his son dreaming.  From seeing the
younger man tightly clutching the mortal's waist, he didn't have to ask
the subject of his distress.  He nearly went to rouse him, but even as
he took another, final step forward, he felt his son begin to wake, his
dreams becoming too intense to allow him to remain asleep.

LaCroix had barely slipped out of the room and beyond the door when Nick
started to wake, completely unaware that his sire had been watching.

Nick's attention was on Natalie.  His head still lay on her shoulder,
and he could feel her heart beating strong and steady as she remained
sleeping.  She was alive.  For now.

Shutting his eyes, he let his fingers clutch her waist and back.  He
didn't want to let go of her.  He didn't want to lose her...even though
he knew he would.  And soon.  Even now he craved her blood more than
ever.  He could kill her right now, and the thought terrified him.

He was also frightened of what would happen if or when he did kill her.
And what would LaCroix do when he knelt over her lifeless body?  Laugh.
Remind him that it was the only possible ending.  Or, rather than kill
her, what if he somehow managed to bring her across?  Natalie had told
him to bring her across if he fed from her and took too much that
morning.  He had also felt, from her blood, that it was what she wanted.
But how could he bring her across when, to take enough to turn her, he
would likely drain her dry?

And, again, it came back to LaCroix.  His sire hated Natalie more than
he would ever admit.  She amused him just enough to not be killed; she
was now only safe because LaCroix wanted to keep him safe.  Now that the
public at large had learned of his true nature, if she did turn up dead
by a vampire's hand, he'd be...he didn't actually know what happened to
vampires who were found guilty of murder.

Nick turned his head more into Natalie's shoulder, feeling tears well
up.  Tears of anger and worry.

LaCroix could hear his son's near silent weeping from where he stood on
the balcony, and he had to fight back his anger at the uncharacteristic
behaviour.  This was the mortal's fault, and her fate would have to be
decided before his son's distraught emotions broke free and destroyed
her...and all of them.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

That night Natalie had arrived at work to find a plain folded card in
the middle of the autopsy table.  She had tensed the instant she picked
it up and opened it.

There, in LaCroix' tiny, neat print was, on three separate lines, simply
'3:00', 'Raven', and 'Tonight'.  The last word was underlined sharply,
almost resulting in a tear in the fancy paper.

She had tossed the card immediately into the trash and tried not to
think what it might mean...beyond that LaCroix had to know what she and
Nick had done the previous morning.  How, she didn't want to know.  As
far as she knew, LaCroix hadn't returned to the loft that evening,
unless he had been there before she and Nick woke, which was certainly
possible.

She had woken that evening to find the shoulder of her shirt
blood-stained...once she managed to get Nick to let go of her.  She
wasn't quite sure what was up, but wondered if perhaps he had pushed
things too far.  She hadn't exactly discouraged him.  They had both
wanted a more intimate relationship for far too long; well before either
of them ever hinted at it to each other, she suspected.

Natalie didn't regret that morning, not one bit.  Not even seeing how
Nick now struggled to be around her...although she did wish she could do
something to help with that.  He had suggested he might adjust with
time, but she didn't think he would.  Whenever he let his guard down,
she saw how happy he was being near her...then he would realise he had
moved a little too close and suddenly become pale and almost green.  He
wanted and perhaps needed her blood.

She both feared and waited impatiently for Nick and Schanke to come by
for the autopsy report on the woman from the previous night.  She had
stayed to do the procedure that morning, and now merely had to compile
some other information from the scene.

One interesting bit of information she had discovered since that morning
was that there had been two different blood types on the victim, and one
of the blood smears in the house was also this second, different blood
type.  The woman's attacker had cut him or herself.  She didn't have
results back yet on the gender of the owner of the other blood type, but
it was something.

She had waited nearly two hours, and even considered taking what she had
to the precinct, when the two finally dropped by.  Nick stayed
uncharacteristically back by the door, and she could see a slight gold
tinge to his eyes, even under the bright overhead lights.  "Hey, you
two," she greeted, trying not to draw attention to Nick, in case his
partner hadn't noticed.

"You don't happen to have something Nick could, er..." Schanke glanced
back at his partner.

Natalie cringed.  Apparently Nick was a bit off even when not around
her.

"I think those drinks he had last night fried the old grey matter or
something.  He's been weirder than usual ever since, especially
tonight," Schanke said.  "I had to practically drag him here--as in
actually pull him out of his chair and out of the building.  He was
scaring the heebie-jeebies out of everybody in the bullpen, and then we
drove around for over an hour before I *finally* convinced him we should
come by here, and even then he kept driving by, like he didn't want to
come.  I had to practically take the wheel from him to get him to
stop...for a second, I thought he'd drive right on over the curb.  But,
er, now that we're here, you can fix him, right?"

"I'm sure I can," she replied.  Nick needed more of her blood, and more
than a mere couple of mouthfuls.  "But first, here's your autopsy
report," she said, grabbing a file and handing it to Schanke.

"But--"

"He can wait a few minutes, Skank."

Schanke glanced toward his partner, who was avoiding looking at either
of them.  Reluctantly, he took the file.

She explained about the two blood types: Apparently, the prime suspect's
blood type was on file, and did indeed match the second blood type.
That, at least, helped Nick and Schanke somewhat--although what they
really needed now was the knife, or to find and question the ex-wife of
the victim's husband.

Nick appeared to ignore them both.  He simply stared at the floor and
didn't say a word.  Schanke found himself taking the lead a bit
uncertainly, due to his concern for his partner.

Once the report was taken care of, Schanke finally had to yell, "Hey,
Knight!" practically in his partner's face to get his attention.
"Natalie says it's snack time."

Natalie winced, but Schanke, of course, had no idea exactly what Nick's
'snack' would likely be.  She certainly did, and she suspected that Nick
had at least considered what her earlier cryptic reply to Schanke meant,
but Schanke knew there was blood at the morgue.  Obviously that would be
his snack, right?  Nope.

"I'll go wait in the car and look through this," Schanke said, waving
the autopsy report in front of his spacey partner before backing
awkwardly out the morgue doors.

Once they were alone, Natalie approached him slowly.  "Nick?"

"I'm sorry, Nat, but I need--"

Much like earlier that day, she put her fingers to his lips.  "I know.
And don't apologise."  She smiled and pulled her blazer off, setting it
on the counter near the door.  Then she started unbuttoning her shirt.
Nick stopped her as she reached the third button, and she saw his eyes
blaze fully gold, his fangs pressing into his lower lip.

Nick repositioned Natalie to face away from him, then brushed his lips
against her neck, smelling her blood and the flowery scent of her
shampoo that smelt oddly strong tonight.  He made a trail of velvet
kisses down the side of her neck to her shoulder, pulling her shirt and
bra strap out of the way before carefully sinking his sharp fangs into
the sensitive flesh right below her collarbone and shoulder.

Natalie gasped.  This was the closest he had gotten to her neck yet, and
she leaned back into him, stretching her head back as he siphoned off
her blood quicker than she thought possible.  Even when she became
light-headed, she smiled, moaning softly at the exquisite mixture of
pleasure and pain.

"Nick!" Schanke yelled.  "What the hell are you--"

Natalie gasped when Nick stopped feeding from her and abruptly spun them
both around.

Schanke froze, seeing the bloody wound on Natalie's bare shoulder, and
the blood on his partner's lips.  He tried to avert his eyes from her
undone shirt, but he couldn't because of the blood.  "Oh, geez, God
no--"

"Shut up, Schanke," she half-yelled through clenched teeth even as she
struggled to stand without Nick's support--not that he appeared to be
letting go of her.  In fact, he seemed to be holding her tighter, and
she could feel his lips behind her ear as he rested his head against
hers.  "He hasn't hurt me."

"Hasn't--hasn't hurt you?  How the hell can you say that, Natalie?!
You're...bleeding!"

"Duh," she answered, forcing herself to remain calm.  "Puncture wounds
do that."

"But he--you let him--" Schanke gestured wildly at the combined form of
Nick and Natalie, from her bloody shoulder to Nick's wild-looking face.
To him the two looked more like some poor helpless woman and the vampire
who'd seduced her, rather than his partner and friend.  "You let him do
that when he was all out of it, looking like a rabid--"

"Nick's little issue was probably because we had sex, Schanke."

"Natalie!" Nick whispered into her ear, shutting his eyes as his control
started to slip again.

Schanke, however, remained stiff, his eyes going wide.  Not that it
surprised him; he just didn't expect her to be so forthright, even blunt
about it, and certainly not in quite this situation.  He had, after all,
told Nick to let him know about anything that was up.  Besides, frankly
he had kinda figured they'd already done that...

"And he didn't take my blood at the time, which is kinda...well, use
your imagination why that might be an issue."  She tried turning in
Nick's grasp, but he didn't want to let go or loosen his grip even a
millimetre.  "Nick?"

"I'm--"  Schanke, now thoroughly embarrassed, finally managed to avert
his eyes.  "Look, I'll...I guess I'll just...I'll be outside.  I only
came back because I managed to get the address on the ex, and, just...I
don't know, okay?"  He paused.  "Anyhoo...I'll be in the car."  With
that, Schanke turned and hurried out of the room.

Natalie cringed, but pushed against Nick harder.  "Nick?  Come on, I
want to see your eyes.  Now."

He relaxed his hold and felt her turn in his grasp, but he didn't open
his eyes.  He didn't think they were gold anymore, and the intense
craving for her blood seemed to be gone, but he feared it would resume
when he again looked at her.

"Nick?  Do you feel okay?"

At that question, he did open his eyes.  They were no longer gold, or
verging on gold.  His vision was perfectly crisp and bright.  Instead of
becoming hungry as he feared, he felt the sadness in her eyes and sensed
her worry that something was wrong.  "I'm fine, I think."

"Good."  Natalie pulled back and felt herself sway a tad when she
changed direction and grabbed a tissue, then felt another rush of
light-headedness as she turned around and went back to Nick.

He closed his eyes at her gentle touch as she wiped the blood from his
lips and chin.  When she finished, his eyes shifted to the wound on her
shoulder.  "Nat--"

"Go explain or whatever to Schanke.  I'll be fine."

"Natalie--"

"Go on, before he drives off and leaves you here and you have to explain
this back at the precinct or tomorrow night or something."

He nearly protested a third time, but instead smiled and nodded.  He
needed to talk to Schanke.  Now, if possible.  He might as well do as
she said, but not before giving her a proper goodbye.  He pulled her
close and kissed her on the lips, his tongue pushing into her mouth.  He
smiled again after he pulled away.  No more extra hunger than usual.
Then, before they did anything more, he stepped away and around Natalie,
then backed through the door, still grinning.

Once in the hall, Nick switched directions and walked slowly outside.
He almost hoped Schanke wasn't there, but no, his car was waiting, the
engine running, and it looked like Schanke planned on driving.  Not
really caring, he got in the passenger seat and his partner pulled out
of the parking spot without question or comment.

An awkward silence reigned for the first part of the drive, then,
several blocks away, Schanke couldn't take it anymore, and said, "You
seem...better now."

Nick didn't reply, simply continued staring out the window.

"You know, you should really, *really* lock that door.  Anyone could
come in."  Schanke waited, but his partner didn't budge.  "You didn't
*do it* in there, did you?"

At this, he snapped his gaze toward Schanke.

"Oh, come on, we'll all adults here."  Schanke glanced at his partner,
who continued to glare at him.  "Say something, Knight.  I know you
don't like talking about this kind of stuff...but you should know that
I'll ask in front of everyone else if I have to.  I swear I will!"

"It's...it's not the first time I've fed from her," Nick admitted,
afraid his partner might do exactly what he threatened.

"I kinda figured that," he said with a touch of sarcasm.  "I mean--Duh!
She's been living at your place for weeks already...  But if it wasn't
the first time you've bitten her, and you need blood to
do...whatever...why didn't you, well, take it when, er--"

"Thought you said we're all adults, Skank," Nick reminded, giving his
partner a sly, almost drunk grin.

"You know what I mean.  How am I supposed to know what's normal for you
guys--as in vampires?  The movies got you guys down as...I don't
know...sensual, maybe?  Charismatic?  Yeah, you're definitely that.  But
vampires are still more about the blood than anything else, right?"  No
answer.  "Did you two really--"

"Yes, we did."  Nick glanced away, back out the window again.  He did
dislike talking to his partner about this, but Schanke was his
friend--and Natalie's, too.  He deserved to know what might happen,
considering that it still very well could, and so he explained, "I
didn't take her blood when we--I didn't take it because I would have
drained her dry, Schanke.  I would have killed her."

"Even though you love her?  And don't deny that, Partner.  Everyone
knows that you two are like those people in movies that are meant for
each other and end up--"

"But that just makes it worse, Schanke!" he snapped.  "Because of how we
feel, Natalie will end up either dead or as a vampire."

Hearing that, Schanke simply drove, missing the turn he needed to take
to get to the ex-wife's residence.  The case was now completely out of
his thoughts.

"Either way, there's no happy ending.  Not for us."

Schanke considered the comment for a long moment before eventually
starting to shake his head.  "Sorry, Partner, but I think you're wrong."

Nick's eyes narrowed, wondering if the other man had missed something.
"Do you really think vampires and happy endings go together?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Because...  You did hear me, right?  Best case scenario--"

"Natalie becomes like you.  Yeah, I heard."

"Skank--"

"Look, you're too busy looking at this from your own point of view that
you won't even let yourself think about it from her side."

"It's not--"

"Ten to one she doesn't think becoming a vampire is a bad thing,"
Schanke said, raising his voice, drowning any protest out.  "Not so long
as she has you."

Nick sunk down in his seat a little, his eyes fixed on the dashboard.
After Schanke's reaction earlier, this is not what he expected.  Not
really.

"You know, Nick, you really can be a brick sometimes, I swear!
Natalie's crazy about you, and she knows you're crazy about her, too.
If she has to become a vampire to have you, I'd bet she'd do it and have
no regrets.  Heck, *I'd* do the same thing if it was Myra and me.  I
mean, if she was a lady vamp, and I wasn't, then...yeah, I'd do it."

Nick turned and stared, dumbfounded at his friend, not believing the
other man could have really thought it through.  "You would do that?
Give up sunlight and trade it for an intense craving for blood?"

"For someone I love?  For Myra?  Sure.  Wouldn't even have to think
about it.  And Natalie...well, she's probably thought about it.  If she
wasn't willing to become like you, you would have heard about it by now.
She probably wouldn't let you...feed from her like she did tonight,
either."  He let out a short breath, almost snorting.  "You know...I'd
about bet that you've gotten this talk from her at some point, haven't
you?  If you have, you need to see about getting some brain cells
rewired, because I think you're the only one who sees this as a bad
thing."

"Being a vampire isn't all it's made out to be, Skank."

"And I know that.  But you know what?  So does Natalie.  She knows
probably better than *anyone* what you guys have to go through, both
before this mess and now."

For several seconds, Nick kept silent.  Then he shook his head.

"Knight--"

"Even if you're right, even if she's willing to become a vampire..." he
started, aware that Schanke was right.  He already knew Natalie *was*
willing to become like him, but that wasn't the problem.  "The fact is
that there's a strong possibility she'd end up dead instead.  And that's
referring to any deliberate attempt to bring her across.  The risk is
even higher for anything *else* we might want to do.  She's lucky to be
alive even now, and I'm not sure how much longer she'll stay that way."

Schanke's hands tightened on the steering wheel.  "Okay...fine.  You
think you're going to kill her.  All right.  Exactly how likely are we
talking about?"  He glanced at his partner, but the other man had zoned
out, despondent once more.  "Come on, Knight, throw me a bone here.  How
likely out of a hundred percent--"

"She's far more likely to end up dead."

"How much more likely?" he asked again, slowly pronouncing each word.
He glanced at his partner, but the other man had zoned out.  "Come on,
Knight, just give me an answer.  How likely out of a hundred percent
will you--"

"Probably close to a hundred percent."

Schanke mulled that response over before finally asking, "Does Natalie
know that too?"

"Yeah, Skank, she knows.  She's known for a long time."

"Great."  Schanke could feel a glare pinned right on him, but didn't
immediately look.  "Don't look at me like that, Knight!"  He finally
glanced at Nick, and just caught his partner turning his head.  It was
clear their conversation was over--or nearly--but he still had another
question.  "If you do kill her, then--"

"Then you'll never see me again," Nick told him he said rather firmly.
If he killed Natalie...then he had no intention of returning to work.
There would be no point.  He'd be blamed, fired, and who knew what
else--probably burnt at a stake--and he'd let them.  He wouldn't care.
He couldn't handle killing another friend, a friend he loved.  For that
reason alone, he wouldn't want to live with the world knowing what he
had done.  He might even finally manage walking into the sun on his own.
"I'll be gone."

Nick silently stared out the window, even when Schanke tried to get his
attention with his name a couple of times.  Eventually his partner gave
up trying to talk to him.  He didn't think he had to explain his reply
to Schanke, not really.  It might take a bit, but he'd figure it out.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (042/111)

That night Natalie took her lunch break late and hoped Nick wouldn't
drop by again while she was away from work.  After he had left, she had
cleaned and bandaged the wound.  Her shirt and bra had bloodstains on
them.  Not that they were visible, but she was sure any vampire would be
able to smell it.  It made her a little concerned about what LaCroix
would do when he noticed it; he certainly wouldn't ignore it.

That made her uncomfortable as she arrived, as requested, at the Raven's
closed front doors a few minutes before three in the morning.  Knocking,
she only had to wait seconds before the door was unlocked and opened by
the bartender, Miklos.  He narrowed his eyes at her, but stepped out of
the way for her to enter and didn't question what she was doing there.

Entering, the only other person she could see in the dimly lit room was
Janette.  She was leaning over a booth, and, from where she stood,
Natalie got the oddest impression, almost as if the vampiress was
tending to a sick child.  She approached and, once Janette straightened
and moved out of the way, she saw that her guess might not be far off.
There in the booth, a young woman lay curled up, apparently sleeping.

Natalie nearly asked about the woman, but Janette raised a finger to her
lips, then started for the door into her apartment.  She followed,
expecting the vampiress to lead her to LaCroix, but once they were in
the apartment, they were alone.  "What happened?  Was something wrong
with--"

"The poor girl was brought across last night.  She's barely sixteen and
not at all prepared for a new life as one of us.  To make matters worse,
she is so very worried about what her parents will think that she will
not go home.  Not that that would actually be a good idea, but--"

"Sixteen?" Natalie asked, cutting her off.

"Oui.  Much too young.  And the one who did it left her to fend for
herself," Janette whispered in a low, angry tone.  Composing herself
somewhat, she further explained, "She came to the Raven minutes before
sunrise.  Pounded on the doors, screaming for someone to let her in..."

"Is she okay?"

"All she has done after we feed her is cry and sleep."  Seeing the
mortal's concern, she explained, "She does not know for certain what
happened.  From what she remembers and what I can guess, I believe she
was hit by a car, one of us found her near death, and they brought her
across."  Her eyes flashed gold, her lips curling up.  "And then they
simply *left* her!"

"You mean you think someone did this to her deliberately?  She wasn't
attacked?" she asked, a bit surprised.

"No, I do not believe she was attacked, per se.  You see, it is not
overly unusual for a vampire to save a mortal who is dying, but to leave
her on the sidewalk like that was...it was both irresponsible and cruel,
especially now that the world knows of us.  She herself didn't know what
had happened and, of course, she instinctively attacked the first person
she saw before her mind could realise what she was doing.  The mortals
really don't know much about us...certainly not enough for her to
understand what was happening.  She managed to somehow stop, but--
After that, she came here, since she knew of the Raven from the news.
She had nowhere else to go."

"But I didn't get any vampire victims last night or tonight," Natalie
mentioned.  "Just, er, Nick and Schanke's multiple stabbing from last
night, and another suicide that came in soon after that.  Nothing else
tonight.  At least not yet."

"Then perhaps she will not be punished."  Janette turned and went to the
sofa and sat.  "Come, Natalie.  I'm sure you are wondering why LaCroix
asked you to come here."

Natalie approached, pausing for a few seconds before taking a seat next
to the other woman.

"Or perhaps you do know why," the vampires suggested, smiling softly.
"I suspect you do."

"I'm sorry, no, I--"

"Nicolas."

She froze and looked down.  "But...the note was from LaCroix.  It was
his handwriting."

"Hmm."

"What does he want?"

"To know your intentions, of course.  Your thoughts.  Your...wishes."
Janette smiled again.  "He wants to know whether you wish to be
brought--"

"Yes," she immediately answered, not even allowing the vampiress to
finish the question.

"Do not answer so hastily, Natalie.  He wants to know whether you wish
*him* to bring you across--either if it becomes necessary, or if you
wish it so," she said again, then watched, pleased, when the mortal
hesitated.  "You should know that Nicolas has not had much success with
those he either brings across or intends to.  Most of the first
become...killers, or mad in some way.  Many of the latter die."

"So you're trying to say...what, exactly?  That I shouldn't ask Nick--"

"I would not.  I realise that, because of your relationship, it would be
preferable, but...  This is about your survival, Natalie, your life.  If
you asked Nicolas, I believe it would most likely be...your death.  He
cannot..."  She paused to rephrase her thoughts.  "It is almost as if
there is something wrong with his blood.  I even believe it has infected
LaCroix somehow."  She tried to smile, but failed.  "It would almost
assuredly be LaCroix who brought you across if you choose this life."

"Or you could do it," Natalie suggested, noticing Janette had left
herself out.

The other woman shook her head.  "No, I cannot.  Believe it or not, you
would fare better with Nicolas.  I am far too much the...glutton."  She
abruptly lost all sense of amusement, her features hardening.  "You seem
rather like a cat...that has used up most of its proverbial nine lives.
Two of those in the last twenty-four hours, I believe.  He fed from you
mere hours ago...and deeply.  And it was not the first time."

Natalie stiffened a little, not bothering to confirm the vampiress'
correct guesses.  Janette undoubtedly smelled the dried blood on her
clothes.  She probably even knew exactly where Nick had bitten her.  And
Janette was right on the last.  Nick had, she was certain, taken more of
her blood tonight than the previous times, and she still felt somewhat
weak from it.  To her it then felt like Janette had somehow moved
closer, although she suspected it was only her imagination.

"You have thought about this, haven't you?"  Janette paused, examining
the mortal.  All she sensed was stubbornness.  "Are you absolutely
certain you wish to become one of us?"

"Very."

"And you fully understand the consequences?  That you will never be able
to have children, or--"

"I understand that."

"And you will leave whatever family--"

"What family?  My family is already gone, Janette.  My parents are dead.
My grandparents are dead.  My brother, my only sibling...well, he died
twice.  Any other family I have, I'm not really close to anymore.  Nick
is the closest thing I have to family or a friend, other than maybe
Schanke.  I've already rehomed my cat.  I have nothing to leave behind."

Janette was a bit shocked by the tirade; she honestly hadn't known
Natalie's parents were dead.  She only knew about the brother.  When
Natalie started to stand, she reached out and grabbed the mortal's hand,
pulling her back.  "I am not attempting to change your mind or dissuade
you; I very much enjoy what I am, and I believe you would do well as one
of us.  This is an important decision, perhaps the most important one
you will ever make.  We simply want to be certain that you have given it
the full consideration it deserves."

Natalie was close to tears and trying to calm herself, so only managed
to nod.

"If this is what you truly want, then you should plan for it if you have
not already done so.  If you wish LaCroix to perform the task, you
should decide that.  If you wish for Nicolas to try...then you should at
least be sure any money you have--"

"When Richie--  That's already arranged.  Everything goes to my niece.
All I have left is my apartment, and if I had time--"

"I can have someone assist you with your apartment, if you wish, and you
may store anything you don't want to take to Nicolas' place here at the
club."

"I'm--"  She was a bit stunned by the offer.  "You would do that?"

"Well, technically, the Raven is no longer mine..." Janette started, but
smiled.  "But LaCroix will not mind."

"LaCroix--"

"Is the new owner of the Raven."

"Wait, so are you...?"

"Leaving?"

Natalie nodded.

"I would have left two months ago if not for...LaCroix was in the Raven
that night because..."  She sighed and began anew, "He was there so I
could officially transfer the club to him.  The papers were already
drawn up and in the office, unsigned.  But that night, when I was
identified as the owner, I was somewhat forced to remain, at least for a
time.  Yesterday, LaCroix stayed here during the day to sign the papers.
The Raven is now officially his."

"Will you tell Nick?  I mean...that you're leaving?"

"If I do not, LaCroix will do so."  Janette stood and walked past
Natalie toward the door to the apartment.  "LaCroix will take your
answer any time from ten o'clock onward, two nights from now.  If he is
not at the loft or the radio station, he should be here."  She turned
sharply, then let her features soften again.  "If you want or need
assistance with your apartment, call me here.  I will have someone go
over; if things are already marked, you need not be there."

Natalie stood, then nodded.  If all she had to do was label everything,
that would be much easier and less time consuming.  But this felt
awkward, so she asked, "Are you sure?  I mean, I don't think I have much
I want to keep, but I don't want to impose--"

"Of course I'm certain.  And you would not be imposing, especially since
it sounds as though we will be family soon."

Natalie stiffened slightly until she saw Janette smile again.  The
vampiress didn't appear even mildly upset about this, although she
suspected she didn't have much choice in the matter.  Janette led her
back down into the club and to the doors, giving her another smile when
they were pulled shut behind her.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Returning to the morgue, Natalie's thoughts immediately scattered.  She
had at least forty-two hours before LaCroix would accept her answer.  It
would probably be even longer than that, since she had to work that
night and probably couldn't go over right at ten.

After a short time, however, she had the beginning of a plan on how to
deal with her apartment.  For whatever reason, she didn't want Nick to
know about any of this, not until after everything was done.  Perhaps
because she didn't want him to worry about her decision.  Once it was
finished, he would have less to worry about.

She left work and went to the loft to get the containers she had been
using for her pre-made meals.  She left a short note for Nick, saying
that she needed to make up another batch of leftovers for lunch and
dinner and was going to do that at her apartment.  She had done so
before, and was in fact running out of the prepared meals--Nick's
refrigerator was getting quite bare.  It was a ready-made excuse.

It did mean that after work she had to buy a few things at the store,
but once to her apartment, she was able to prepare a batch of dinners
while the oven heated, and then, while it baked, she started to sort
through her apartment.

That, she discovered, had been quite depressing.  Oddly so.  Or perhaps
'unnerving' was a better descriptor.  It only made her more certain
about her decision.  After an hour, she had somehow managed to separate
out everything of value that she owned.

She had a box of papers to which she added a few more recent bills, then
reclosed.  She would have to go through that later.  In another box, she
put her only items of personal value, which came down to several
photographs--some in albums or frames, but the more recent ones were
mostly loose--and the journals in which she had recorded Nick's
progress, or lack thereof, on becoming mortal.

Beyond that, the only things she wanted to keep were already at the
loft--her clothes, her mother's jewellery box and its contents, and more
photographs.  None of her furniture was of particular value or interest
to her.  She wouldn't even need anything from the kitchen...and her
apartment was nearly bare of food or other personal items.  She had
gradually gotten rid of everything she wasn't using...and what she did
use was already at Nick's.

After she dished out her garlic-less lasagna into the containers,
Natalie took the two rather pathetic boxes down to her car and shut them
in the trunk.  She would take them to the Raven that evening, and
perhaps also tell Janette about the jewellery box--if something happened
and she died, it should go to her niece.

It was after sunrise by the time she had eaten what was left in the pan,
cleaned it, set the empty pan with the other kitchen items, then left
her apartment and returned to the loft.  Immediately after putting away
her food containers, she checked on Nick and found both him and LaCroix
already asleep.

She was amused to find that neither had changed for bed, and Nick far
more resembled a little boy being comforted by his father than the 800
year old vampire he was.  In fact, he was lying almost identically to
how she herself had woken up the previous night with Nick's head on her
shoulder.

She felt bad about his current state, knowing it had been because she
had arrived back late.  He had probably been worried about where she
was.  Or maybe LaCroix had mentioned his offer to her.  That worried her
a little, but she suspected that if that had been the case, Nick would
have taken the sofa to distance himself from the other man.  She almost
didn't bother changing, but remembering the dried blood on her clothes,
she decided it would be better.  And safer.

When she returned to the bedroom, she realised that she would have to
sleep on the other side of LaCroix if she slept in there.  Nick lay near
one edge of the bed, LaCroix' stretched out arm taking up what little
room remained.  Lying down on the other, unoccupied side, Natalie moved
Nick's limp hand that rested on the mattress and held it in both of hers
as she fell asleep.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (043/111)

That night LaCroix had left the loft almost immediately.  Natalie was
pleased to see that Nick was back to normal again--or at least that his
proper taking of her blood the night before had put him back in control.
He still seemed a bit more subdued than normal, as if resigned to
something happening that he was worrying about.  Natalie could guess
what that was, and was glad he didn't push her away.  She didn't know
what she would do if Nick said she couldn't stay there anymore.

After Nick left for work, she had immediately left and driven to the
Raven.  Janette had been surprised when she had told her she only had
two boxes to store for the time being--and that everything else that
remained in her apartment could be sold, given away, or trashed.  But
Janette had not pressed the matter, and took the key to her apartment
with the promise she wouldn't have to do anything more with it.

Upon leaving the Raven, Natalie had felt extremely relieved--far more
than she thought she would--especially since nothing had actually been
done yet.  And she would still have to end her lease and close her
accounts for phone service and the like.  Her mail was already going to
Nick's.

Arriving at work, Natalie froze seeing someone sitting in her chair.
"Grace," she whispered, shocked.  "What are you doing here?"

"I can visit my friend, can't I?"

"I suppose, but..."

"But what?" the other woman asked expectantly, but watched Natalie stand
there, stunned.  "It's been a couple of months since we last talked, and
you weren't answering your phone.  I tried several times, but apparently
you weren't home, and I didn't have any other number for you, so--"

"So you figured you'd wait here for me."

"Exactly.  Knew you'd show up sooner or later."

"But why--"

"You have to ask why?  When the two of you are plastered all over the
news?"

Natalie wasn't sure what to think of Grace's comment.  Before Grace had
left town, the other woman had often made vague hints to her about
Nick--she was almost as bad, if not worse, than Schanke--but now...
"And?"

"And I wanted to make sure you were all right, Natalie.  We are still
friends...or I thought we were.  I know we haven't had a lot of
time--either of us--the last couple of months, but--"

"Yeah, Grace, we're still friends, but...you still could have called."

"As I said, I tried, but your answering machine was turned off, and I
really didn't want to just leave a message anyway.  That being the case,
I didn't have much choice but to make a personal visit."

"You could have called here."

"I did, but apparently they've changed your number, and whenever I
called, you were out.  I've been working days, and--" 

"And I've been working a lot of nights lately," Natalie sighed.  Her
office number *had* been changed; she hadn't thought about that, but
between that and staying at Nick's, it had made her unreachable.  And
depending on who answered, even if Grace left a message, she might not
have gotten it.  "So you drove all this way--or worse, spent money on a
plane ticket--and--"

"And it was nothing.  It's only about four hours; I moved to Ottawa, not
Vancouver.  Besides, I figured I'd find something else to do if you
never showed, but you're here, so...out with it."

"Out with what?"

"Let's see...vampires have been revealed to the world, and you've been
good friends with one of them for *years*.  Nick, your Knight in shining
armour...of sorts."

"Nick isn't--"

"And I told you, I've seen the news," she said, finally letting out a
clear smile.  "And I know for a fact that you two are more than just
friends.  You might as well admit it."

Natalie shook her head.  "Grace..."

"Come on..."

"It's complicated, as you can probably imagine."

"Well, it does explain a few things, I'll give you that.  Like why you
always looked at me like what I said was preposterous whenever I pointed
him out.  You knew, didn't you?"

"Nick..."  Natalie sighed, shut her eyes and finally walked over to her
desk, where she dropped off her purse.  "Anything I tell you, you can't
repeat.  Promise?"

"You think I'd betray you like that?"

"It's not really me that--"  She sighed again.  "Nick was brought in one
night, in a body bag, and...well, he woke up and I saw what he was.  But
he never hurt me.  He never has."

"And you're immune, right?"

"Yeah, I'm...immune," she repeated, the word still awkward to her.

"But he did try to make you forget, didn't he?"

"He tried, yeah."

"And then, what, since he couldn't make you forget...he stayed to keep
an eye on you?"

"Like I said, it's complicated.  I'm sure that's at least part of why he
stayed, but I don't think me knowing about him really changed his plans
that much, beyond put them on hold."

"Can I ask--"

"Sure.  Shoot away."

"--what he's really like?"

"Grace, he's not any different than you already knew before you left
town.  Vampire or not, he's still the same man."

"And you're still human, right?"

Natalie shut her eyes.  After the previous day, during which she had
more or less decided that she would become a vampire, that question
bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

"Natalie?"

"Yeah, I'm still mortal."

"Has he asked yet?"

"Asked what?"

"Come on, Natalie.  You two are more than just friends, and I'm sure you
both know that if you were like him, things would be less 'complicated'.
He has asked, hasn't he?"

"That's--"

"Let me guess...complicated?"  Grace sighed.

"Well, it is."

"And?  I know you, Natalie.  You've considered it.  I'd probably
consider it...any scientist would.  And the media is certainly
interested in what will happen, even from what little I've seen.  I
wouldn't be surprised if even they start to catch on that you two are
more than 'just friends', and you know that once they do..."

"Grace..." she protested again.

"Come on, sit down," Grace said and she stood, walked around behind
Natalie, and guided her friend over to her desk, half-forcing her into
the chair.

Natalie sat, uncomfortably watching the other woman walk back around to
the other side of the desk and sit.

"If he asked or has asked," Grace asked, her tone softening and
lowering, "you will or did say yes, right?  Or would you?"

Natalie hesitated, wondering whether she should answer or not.  Her
transition was nearly planned, beyond officially answering LaCroix and
picking a date, but she hadn't said a word to Nick yet, not beyond her
periodic mention that she wanted to be brought across if he ever came
close to killing her.  Deep down she felt that she shouldn't say
anything to Grace, but Grace was her friend...a friend she would hate to
lose by saying nothing.

"Nat?  As your friend, you do know I'd like to know about something big
like this, right?"

"I know, I just...like it or not, this *is* complicated, and I can't and
won't tell you everything."

"But?"

"But...I would--will--say yes," she evasively answered.  "And it'll
probably be soon."

"And you're prepared for--"

"Big changes," Natalie finished.  "Yeah, I know probably everything will
be different."

"And you know how they react to blood, right?  So what about your job--"

Natalie raised her hands, which successfully got Grace to stop speaking.
"I'll come to that when I come to it, and in case you haven't noticed,
Nick--"

"Always left a wide berth between him and any patients on the autopsy
table, unless you had to show him something," Grace pointed out.  "Yes,
I noticed.  He always seemed a little too squeamish to be a homicide
detective."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't squeamishness, not really."

"But what if you can't do your job?  That is a possibility, isn't it?
Are you prepared to have your life turned completely upside down?"

Natalie stared down at her desk.  She really didn't know what she'd do
if she couldn't do her job, but she had every intention of making it
work.

"Natalie--"

"You're right that I've thought about it, and I know it's a
possibility...but I also know that Nick will do whatever he can to help
me adjust.  So your answer is yes.  I know that if I choose to be
brought across, it will change everything."

"Probably not *everything*."

"No, it'll change everything, probably even my relationship with Nick.
Actually, that will definitely change in some ways, but...  It'll change
how I interact with people at work, and how they interact with me; I
know people don't really trust vampires.  People make
assumptions--sometimes right and sometimes wrong--but they form an
opinion that nothing can alter."  She took in a deep breath.  "Why did
you really come, Grace?  No, let me guess...it was that video."

"It...all right, yes," she admitted.  "That, and the photos of you from
Halloween.  By the way, Nick has nice legs, I'll have to admit," she
said with a sly grin, then quickly got serious once more.  "But that
video...I'm sure you know it's changed how people are talking about
vampires."

"Of course it has."

"You're not...shocked by it?"

"I am, but...but not in the way you probably are.  I already knew a lot
about what vampires can do; I wasn't surprised by that."

"But that they kill like that..."

"*Those two* did," Natalie corrected.  "Not all vampires kill, and I
doubt that those who do kill, do so quite like that...so brutally, and
without purpose.  It's not just me; Nick is as appalled by their actions
as I am."

"But what about--"  Grace stopped speaking before she got her thought
out.

"What about...what?"

"Others like him."

"What about them?"

"Have you, I don't know, met any other vampires?  And by met, I don't
mean as a one-off, by chance, short conversation, but do you actually
know any other--"

"A few," Natalie said, cutting the other woman off.  "And I know they're
not all like Nick, but I also know that, overall, they--vampires--aren't
that different from us.  If you have a problem with--"

Grace held up a hand and cut her off in return.  "I didn't say I had a
problem with anything.  As long as you're willing, I'll still be your
friend, Natalie.  Even if it might be hard to stay in touch."

Natalie dropped her would-be defensive mood and smiled in relief.
"Probably not much harder than it is now.  I've been...I've been staying
at Nick's since soon after all this started," she admitted, looking
down.  "I even gave Sydney away; Schanke took him.  But point is I've
barely been to my apartment at all the last few weeks.  And it won't
even be my apartment much longer."  Pulling out a piece of scratch
paper, she wrote down the new phone number for her desk, then hesitantly
added Nick's address and phone number.  She passed it across the desk.
"That should help a little, but don't give out Nick's number or address.
So far no one has, but if it ever gets out..."

"I wouldn't do that; this is just for me, I know.  I'm almost a little
hurt that--"

"I'm sorry, but I don't want anything to happen to him.  Or me, for that
matter."

Grace folded the piece of paper and put it in a pocket without looking
at it.  Then she smiled as she asked, "Should I ask if you lost my new
number?"

Natalie glanced up at her friend for a moment, then down again.  "No, I
didn't lose it.  I've just been busy."

"Busy," Grace said at the same time Natalie did.  "I get that.  And it's
probably worse for you than it is for me; you're the one everyone goes
to for answers; I'm just along for the ride, so-to-speak."

"And I'm sorry that you came all this way for probably nothing, but I
have some things I need to do...some tests I didn't do last night."

"I didn't come here for nothing--I got to see you, girl.  That's
plenty."  Grace stood, still smiling, but then went awkwardly quiet
again.  "So...how is he doing?"

"Nick?" she asked and got a nod.  "He's stressed, of course.  So am I,
but we're managing."

"What about his partner?  Schanke was never one to--"

"He's been...  Frankly, I think he's been a bit subdued lately.  I don't
know if it's because he's having trouble with...everything, because he's
worried about Nick, or what, but sometimes he goes...quiet."

"Donald Schanke, quiet?  That's harder to believe than Nick being a
vampire."

"Yep," Natalie said, smiling and relaxing a little.  "Agreed--it's a
strange sight."

"But he hasn't put in for a transfer or anything, has he?"

"Nope, and I don't think he will.  He had already figured out what Nick
was, possibly even before that night at the club.  He was defending his
allergy about as much as I was, and then he didn't even know for sure
what Nick is.  They'll be fine; don't worry about them."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Grace..."  Natalie shook her head, barely believing the offer of help,
despite that they hadn't talked since before vampires were revealed to
the world.  "Really, we're fine."

"But if I can do anything..."

"I'll try to remember to call.  It's hard to explain, but I do have more
than just Nick that I can go to for help.  Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"It's--"

"Complicated.  I know."

Natalie nodded.  "I'm sorry I can't tell you everything, Grace, but Nick
does, sort of, have...family.  And they'll be my family, too, if and
when I become like him.  They might not help, but if they do--"

"If they can, I won't hear from you, will I?"

"Don't know for sure, but I'll try."

"Well," Grace started, and took a pad of sticky notes and a pen from
Natalie's desk.  She wrote a phone and room number on it as she said,
"If you're not busy any time tonight or tomorrow morning, call me.  And
if you are busy, still call and let me know, all right?"

"All right," Natalie said, taking the note.  "I'll be in touch one way
or another, but if I get called out tonight or in the morning--"

"Then you'll be busy.  Don't worry about it, Nat.  And, don't forget,
Christmas is just around the corner--"

"Oh, don't even..."

"And I expect to hear from you before then for sure, all right?"

Natalie shut her eyes.  "All right, but no extravagant gifts, okay?"

She grinned and started to leave.

"Grace...  No, absolutely--"

"You'll just have to wait and see.  And, remember, call me sometime
before noon; after that I won't be reachable."

"Okay, but--and I mean it--don't just randomly show up at the loft.
Call first.  Got it?"  She waited, but Grace just smiled back.  "I
really mean it, Grace."

Grace's mood dropped a bit at her friend's serious tone.  "All right,
I'll call if I decide to drop by."

"And maybe don't...at least not tomorrow.  Things are a
little...delicate right now," she said and winced.

"Delicate?  Natalie--"

"Please, Grace.  I promise I'll call."

"I can stay..."

"No, I was serious about finishing some tests tonight.  I wish you could
help, but it'd be hard to explain how I got so much work done...  I'm
fine, really, and call if you want or need to talk...about anything."

"And you'll let me know when you're...turned?"

Natalie hated that word, but she nodded.  "Yeah, although it might not
be right that moment.  I'll try to let you know before the news figures
it out, but who knows.  And, Grace..."

"Don't tell anyone, I know.  Don't worry about that."

Natalie nearly gave her friend another warning, but in a split second,
Grace was gone.  She closed her eyes and tried to relax.  She couldn't.
Grace now knew more about what would soon happen to her than anyone but
Janette.  She only hoped LaCroix would take her answer when she gave it,
and then she'd have to bite the proverbial bullet and tell Nick.  That
would be the hardest part, because it would be what would hurt the
most...for both of them.  She didn't want to see the panic in his eyes
when she told him she wanted to be like him, to be what he himself
loathed.

Taking Grace's note and sticking it to her computer monitor, Natalie
moved her purse out of the way and started her shift...now more behind
than she had been that morning.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (044/111)

An hour later, Natalie got a call from Cohen that both simultaneously
lifted and dampened her mood.  A body had been found four blocks from
the Raven, and it appeared to have been drained by a vampire.  Nick and
Schanke had been assigned to the case and, once she arrived and made her
way through a news crew, she found them, along with Schmidt and Cohen.

Nick had only just stood from where he had been kneeling by the body,
examining the wound.

"How did that news crew find out about this so fast?" she asked.

"Get this--they're the ones who called it in," Schanke answered,
half-snorting.  "That's just great.  They were doing a piece on...oh, I
forgot what they said it was, some new business or something, but while
they were wrapping up, one of their camera guys found this guy.  Jason
Greene, thirty-eight, according to his driver's license.  Nothing's
missing...except his blood."

Natalie moved over to the body to examine the wounds--and, yep,
definitely done by a vampire, and the cause or one of the likely causes
of death was definitely blood loss.

"I already called Janette," Nick added.

"What?  Why?" she asked, standing.

"With it being so close to the Raven, she has to be questioned," Schmidt
answered.  "That's also why Cohen and I are here."

Natalie grimaced and turned back to the body.  If they had contacted
Janette because they still thought she was the owner, they were in for a
surprise.  So was Nick.  She glanced at him, but he was currently
talking to Cohen about something, and she joined Schanke, who was
staring oddly at the body.  "Okay, what's wrong?"

"It's just...  I don't know."  He tilted his head a little more.
"Something doesn't seem right.  Either those camera guys really screwed
up the scene--and I mean *really* screwed it up--or...look," he gestured
toward the man's feet.

Natalie saw it immediately.  The asphalt wasn't clean, and it almost
appeared as though some of the dirt and debris had been recently
scraped.  Squatting down again, Natalie studied the man's shoes.  The
back of his heels had the same dried dirt on them, but the bottoms were
clean.  "He was dragged here.  He wasn't killed here--or at least not
right where he fell."

"So, not a vampire, then?" Schanke asked, hopeful.

"No, he was definitely at least fed from by a vampire, and I'd about bet
killed by one...or at least from complications," she said, checking the
man's body temperature.

"But?"

"But it didn't happen here, Schanke.  He died, then was moved, and I
have a feeling that wasn't done by a vampire.  Offhand, I'd guess he was
killed early this morning, then moved within the last few hours.  I'll
have to double-check that, though, once I get him back."  Again standing
and turning to look at Schanke, Natalie's gaze was caught by Janette,
whom she suspected had arrived via bypassing the news crew and landing
directly in the narrow street.

"Why am I here, Nicolas?" the vampiress said, walking up to her brother,
pretty much ignoring everyone else.

"The body, Janette."

She glanced toward the dead man and shrugged.  "He is dead and I did not
kill him.  There is certainly nothing I can do.  I see no reason for my
presence."

"Janette--"

Cohen moved forward and stepped in front of the vampiress.  "As the
owner of the Raven, we need to ask you some questions about anything you
may have noticed out of the ordinary, either tonight or this morning."

"I am afraid I am not the one with whom you wish to speak," she said,
smiling.  "However, I can answer your questions."

Nick seized Janette by the arm and moved her away from the others.
"What do you mean you're not--?"

"I am no longer the owner of the Raven, Nicolas."

Nick was stunned and couldn't manage a reply.

"As of yesterday, LaCroix is officially the new proprietor."

Nick closed his eyes.  That was why LaCroix hadn't come back to the loft
the previous day.  It had to be.  "Why didn't he tell me?  Why didn't
you?"

"I am telling you now," she replied smugly.  "I will answer whatever
questions I can, but if you need the actual owner of the club, you will
have to contact him.  Although..."  Janette smiled.  "If you attempt to
interrogate him, I would very much like to watch.  Ah, Dr. Lambert."

Nick turned.  Natalie had walked directly up to them, followed by Cohen
and Schmidt, who had probably decided his private conversation with
Janette was over.

"What did you mean by saying you aren't the one I want to talk to?"
Cohen asked.

"I am no longer the owner of the Raven," she repeated.

Natalie relaxed at this.  She wouldn't have to keep that secret from
Nick--not that it had been difficult to do so the past day.

"You sold it?"

"Not exactly," she replied with another smug smile.

"What do you mean, not exactly?  And who is the new owner?" Cohen asked.
"No more vague answers, Ms. DuCharme."

Janette had a hard time not showing her anger at the mortal.  Only
Nick's hand on her arm kept her calm, and she forced a smile.  "I did
not *sell* the club.  I simply passed it to a...relative."

Nick tensed and Natalie looked away.

"So who is the new owner?" Schmidt asked before Cohen could become more
upset at the lack of an answer.

"Lucien LaCroix."

Schmidt tensed at the name.

Cohen did not, but her anger came through when she asked, "Why were we
not informed of the change in ownership when it occurred?"

"I believe there is a seven day window within which to report it," she
replied.  "Ownership was only transferred a day and a half ago."

"Fine.  Knight, find out if she heard or saw anyone around--"

"This morning or a little after sunset," Natalie supplied.  Which, as
she said it, she realised that she, herself, had possibly been in the
general vicinity not long after the body was moved.

Cohen nodded and she and Schmidt moved off back toward Schanke, where
the latter filled them in on Natalie's theory.

"Nick, I want to talk to you--both of you," Natalie said, turning to
Janette.  "I can confirm that you didn't do this, and knowing more about
it isn't going to change what you say."

"Nat?"  He let go of Janette's arm, to the latter's apparent relief.

"Someone moved the body to this location.  Schanke figured that out
first, actually."

"And?" Janette asked.  "It is not uncommon for us to move--"

"He was dragged at least a couple of metres, if not from all the way
from the street, or further," Natalie said, cutting the other woman off.
She didn't particularly need or want to know exactly all Janette knew
about vampire killings.  She knew enough from Nick, and who knew what
she would learn from him or LaCroix on that subject if and when she
herself became a vampire.  "He was killed either early this morning or
late last night.  His clothes are still dry, despite that it rained this
afternoon."

"But, Nat, he was definitely killed by a vampire."

"I know--or at least that's what it looks like--but I think he was moved
by mortals.  I'm positive he wasn't moved here until tonight.  He might
have been taken from wherever he was killed this morning, and maybe
moved again--I'm not sure on that.  I might be able to tell once I do a
real exam."

"Why would a mortal--" Janette started, only to abandon the thought upon
realising she already knew the answer.  "The club.  They are attempting
to implicate the club.  Generate negative attention to turn the mortals
against us.  It's the same reason I was--Nicolas, I didn't see or hear
anything.  I will ask some of the others if they saw anything, but--"

"I know, we probably won't get any answers."

"Then may I leave, Detective?"

"After you tell me why you never mentioned you were planning to give the
Raven to LaCroix."

Janette smiled, planning to leave anyway...until Nick again grabbed her
arm, making it so she couldn't leave without making a scene.  Even then,
he was stronger than she, and he could easily keep her there by force
until she answered.

"Why, Janette?"

"Because I did not plan to tell you I was leaving," she whispered,
although her tone was rather harsh.

Nick closed his eyes.

"You know how I am.  I do not wish to provide explanations for where I
am every moment--nor when I leave--and I did not want to give you a
chance to try and convince me to stay.  I am leaving, and neither you
nor LaCroix will change my mind."

Nick took in a deep breath.  He wouldn't argue with her.  Not here, and
not about this.  They had argued too much in the past.  "How soon?"

"Within the week."

"To where?"

"Montreal?  Paris?  I do not know yet.  Does it matter?"  She pried her
brother's hand from her arm, then raised her hand to his cheek.  "Do not
worry for me.  You know I don't like staying in one place for very
long."  She kissed Nick lightly on the lips, pleased when he didn't turn
away.  She turned, started walking deeper into the alley, then took off,
vanishing into the shadows.

"Nick?" Natalie asked when his gaze became unfocused, pointed at the
wall of the building behind where Janette had been standing.  She tugged
on his arm, then wrapped hers around it and turned him.

He snapped out of his thoughts when his focus settled on the scene once
again.  Schanke was eyeing him oddly--he must have seen Janette kiss
him.  At that thought, he turned sharply to Natalie.  "Nat, I--"

"Nick, don't apologise for what she did or however you're feeling right
now.  If she's leaving Toronto, you might not see her again for a while,
right?"

He didn't answer, but he did give her the warmest smile he could manage,
mainly in an effort to mask his mixed emotions.  He put his arm briefly
around her waist as they walked back to where Schanke was talking to the
forensics tech by the body.  Before releasing her, he leaned over and
whispered, "Thanks for not--"

She raised her hand to his lips to stop him from talking.  "We can talk
about it later, if you want.  After I see what you do to LaCroix."

Nick stiffened and stopped, closing his eyes.  Then he shook his head.

"What?"

"I'm not going to argue with him.  Not about this."

"Not about Janette leaving, or not about him being the Raven's new
owner?"

"I might have a few questions for him on the second."  This time he
smiled more genuinely, his gaze shifting fully on Natalie.  "Like...who
his new bartender will be.  I don't think Miklos will stay.  Might be an
interesting first couple of nights..."

Natalie tried to think of LaCroix tending bar, but couldn't.  Even a
couple of nights ago, apparently he'd rather have her make his drink
than make it himself.

"So, you fill Nick in?" Schanke said after his partner and Natalie
arrived back.

"Yep," she replied.

"There are more tracks closer to the road, too," Schanke said, gesturing
toward the general direction where the camera crew was.  "Whoever moved
him here, dragged him all the way from the street.  Unfortunately, any
evidence out there has probably been trampled already...it's right where
those idiots gathered.  Go figure.  Anyway, Cohen is telling them to
back off again.  We might get lucky once they're gone, but anything we
find out there is ruined.  Trampled.  Contaminated.  We might have more
luck once we figure out where he was actually killed.  Probably at his
place, but if not...might never find the real crime scene."  Then
Schanke lowered his voice and asked, "By the way, Cohen said Janette
isn't the Raven's owner anymore, and that--"

"LaCroix is."  Nick looked away.

"So it's true?"

"Apparently," he muttered.

"You didn't know?  I thought you and Janette--"

Nick closed his eyes.

"She wasn't going to tell him, Schanke," Natalie filled in.

"Oh, er, sorry.  But isn't he, well, living with you two?"

"And do you really think he tells Nick everything?  Or me, for that
matter?" Natalie asked, rolling her eyes.

Schanke kinda shuffled his feet, then asked, "So...what was that kiss
for, then?"

"A combined...apology and goodbye.  She'll be leaving."  Nick took in
another deep breath.  "Come on, Schanke, let's get back to this," he
said, gesturing toward the body with a hand.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (045/111)

Entering the precinct early the following night, Natalie snuck up behind
Nick and brushed her fingers along the side of his neck, which
immediately made him jerk his head away.

"Nat," he started as he swivelled his chair around, but he felt far from
angry.  He couldn't, with what she had just done.  It was hard not to
smile.  "Why are you here?"

"To deliver a report."  She pulled out a folder and set it on the corner
of his desk.

"What about our victim, Nat?  You said--"

"He had sex with a vampire before he died."

"What?" Schanke asked, leaning forward.  "You mean he did the horizontal
tango with a vampire?  Beyond the bite, that is?"

"Right.  Don't know whether it's the same one that drained him or not."

"So, what, this woman or whoever--"  Schanke paled almost immediately.

"Don't you dare say what you're thinking, Schanke," she warned him.
"But, yes, she very possibly drained him during or after intercourse.
And only partly--she could have taken a lot more blood, so I suspect he
was supposed to be...well, a bit of fun, rather than a meal.  By some of
the other tests I ran, I'd guess he was weak from a case of pneumonia
and it made it so he couldn't recover."

Nick had gone silent, and he swivelled his chair slightly away from
Natalie.  "But he died from blood loss," he whispered.

"Ah, yes, cause of death was--"

"Getting too close to a vampire."

Natalie grabbed the back of his chair, wheeled him back toward her, and
leaned down, one of her hands supporting her weight on his shoulder, her
other hand inching down to his chest.  "Don't, Nick," she whispered into
his ear.  "You are not going to leave me like that.  He died a good hour
or two after he was bitten.  It was almost assuredly an accident.  I'd
be willing to bet that the vampire who did this has no clue that he's
dead.  And none of that helps you find out how he got where we found
him, which, in my opinion, is the bigger issue."

He simply shook his head at that, telling her, "We're going to question
his neighbours later.  See if they--I don't even have any--"

"Nick, keep your speculation to your case, not us," she whispered again.

"Nat--"  He tensed, feeling a kiss on his cheek.  He closed his eyes,
savouring the touch of her lips on his skin.  Then she moved away from
him, taking her hands off his shoulders, too.  He turned his chair
around so that it was again facing both Natalie and Schanke.  Both were
smiling, but in the background, others had seen the exchange, igniting
rumours that had started three nights before on the news.  Nick closed
his eyes and breathed out, trying to ignore everything around him except
Natalie and Schanke.

"What?" she asked, concerned.

"Don't mind him.  He's just been a bit weirder than usual tonight,"
Schanke whispered.  "Keeps switching between wanting to rip someone's
head off and leaving, I think..."

"Okay, Nick, what's up?"

"Oh, just the bets on you being a vampire," he answered evasively.  "I
think they're guessing about sixty percent for, forty against--opposite
of what it was last night."  He awkwardly grinned, lowering his gaze to
the edge of his desk.

Natalie stiffened slightly, then saw him smile.

"It's that kiss of Janette's," he said with a touch of anger.  "News
caught that, along with your...lack of reaction."

Natalie cringed.  She hadn't thought how that might appear to an
outsider.  Particularly since the only people who knew Nick and Janette
were more than friends or past lovers were Schanke, Schmidt, and
herself.  Well, and LaCroix.  "So I'm more likely a vampire because I
let it slide?"

"Apparently," he whispered.  "And we didn't exactly walk back to the
body like colleagues."  He managed another half-smile when his gaze met
Natalie's.

She smiled back, reached forward, and again pulled Nick's chair over.
"You mean like this?" she asked, again touching his neck, pulling on
some of the hairs behind his ear.

"Exactly," he replied.  He reached up and pulled her hand down, but kept
hold of it rather than letting it go.

"Hmm, you've let it get long," she teased.

"No, *you've* let it get long," he countered.  "You know where the
clippers are.  And you know I can't do it myself, not lately, since the
mirrors at the loft won't..." he added, trailing off in a whisper, not
even able to finish the thought.  He'd stopped showing up in
mirrors--all mirrors--since he'd gone back to human blood.

"You know, I don't think that'll help any," Schanke said and shifted in
his chair.

"What?" she asked.

"What you're doing.  Half the precinct is watching.  In case you haven't
noticed," he finished, not bothering to suppress a chuckle.

Nick tried to pull his hand back, but Natalie caught it.

"So?" she asked.

"So?  He'll be stuck all night listening to a gazillion theories about
you two, that's what.  And *I'll* be stuck with all the work, while he's
zoned out in la-la land."

Both Nick and Natalie smiled at that, although Nick's was more playful
and Natalie's more embarrassed.

Pleased that he'd made his point, Schanke decided to let them off the
hook by changing the subject.  "Look, Nick, you going to be able to work
without me for a bit?  I've got that school thing with Jenny--"

"Go home, Schanke."

"I'll be back around 9:30, 10:00, and then we can go--"

"Go, Schanke; I don't want to be your reason for being late."

"Nor do I," Natalie replied.  "I'm going back to the morgue soon,
anyway--I'm actually just here on a report run."

"Yeah, the 96th gets its reports delivered because--"  Catching a glare
from Natalie, Schanke stopped mid-sentence and he got his coat.  "Okay,
okay.  But at least let him get some work done while I'm gone, will ya?"

Once Schanke had left, Natalie leaned forward again.  "Hmm, does that
mean you haven't been working lately?"

Nick shrugged.  "I've been...distracted."

"Like now?"

"Yeah, like now."  Finally, he managed to extract his hand from
Natalie's, and he rolled his chair up to his desk more properly.  "While
I'm glad you came, I think maybe you should go...before we really give
everyone something to talk about."

She smiled again, but she plopped off his desk and stood.  She did,
however, put her hand on his shoulder as she squatted down to get her
purse.

She flashed another grin at him after she got rid of her report, then
left to head back to the morgue.  She had an autopsy to do and, by the
time she finished, hopefully Schanke would be back...which meant Nick
would be less likely to drop by the morgue.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

At a bit before one that morning, Natalie pulled up near CERK.  She
didn't want to make any phone calls and he *was* broadcasting--about
family, of all things--which meant he was probably waiting for her.

Stopping her car, she got out and entered the building, holding a piece
of paper in her hand.  She wondered what LaCroix would think of her
little permission slip.  Inside, she found the On-Air light on, and the
vampire in the sound booth.

He paused in his speech to smile when he saw her.  Not waiting for
permission, she entered the room he was in, but remained silent.

"Speaking of families and the insanity they cause..."  He flipped a
switch and started a CD.  The On-Air light switched off.  "I was
beginning to wonder, Doctor."

"Won't Nick suspect something from your topic tonight?"

"Nicholas has not been listening recently."  His grin returned and
intensified.  "You have, apparently."

"Only to find out where you were."

"Perhaps."  LaCroix leaned back in his chair and brought his hands
together.  "Your decision?"

"Does this say enough about what my decision is?" she asked, then took
the paper in her hand and laid it on the controls in front of him.

LaCroix was forced to lean forward to retrieve the sheet of paper.  He
read it to himself, his smile slowly vanishing.

     "I, Natalie Lambert, hereby give permission for either Nicholas
     Knight or Lucien LaCroix to bring me across (change me into a
     vampire).  I fully understand the consequences of giving my
     consent to do this, including the possibility of my death.
     Neither should be in any way charged or punished if my death
     occurs as a result of their actions, whether those actions be
     accidental or with purpose."

She was giving her permission, in writing, to be brought across.  Or, at
least she was stating that she had chosen this herself, of her own free
will, and that she had given full consent for whatever happened to her,
whether she became a vampire or died in the attempt.  Below the main
part of the note were two lines.  On one Natalie had signed her name and
dated it, and a second sat blank.

"Well?"

LaCroix looked up at the mortal.  She was impatient.  Slightly nervous,
but angry at his lack of reply.  "Who is this for?"

"I intend to give a copy to Captain Cohen."

"Why?"

"I would think that would be obvious."

"Enlighten me."

"Regardless of what happens to me, Nick will be blamed for it.  I don't
want that.  Whether he kills me, you kill me--"

"I am not inept at--"

"--or I am brought across--by either of you--I want to make it clear
that this is my choice," Natalie finished, raising her voice.

"And you expect me to sign this?" LaCroix asked, lowering the paper.

"It might carry more weight with Cohen and her superiors if you do.  But
no, I don't expect you to sign it.  I have another version I can give
her if you don't.  I'll probably give it to her even if you do."

LaCroix put the form down on the controls and leaned back in his chair
again.  "Are you certain of your choice?"

"I'm sure."

"Even knowing I would likely become your...father?"

"Yes."  She met the vampire's stern gaze.

LaCroix suddenly laughed.  "You do not understand what--"

"At least I have a better idea what I'm in for than Nick did," she
snapped.  "What--he was drunk, seduced by Janette, then seduced by you?
And then, what--if he refused, you would have killed him?  Or would you
have tried bringing him across regardless?"

"I will not tolerate another ungrateful child."  He narrowed his eyes at
the impudent mortal.

"I won't be ungrateful."

He examined her--her stance, her eyes, her heartbeat.  The most insane
thing about this was that he believed her words.  She would not be
ungrateful.  "How prepared are you to do this?"

"My apartment is very possibly being cleaned out as we speak, if that
says anything."  She was pleased when LaCroix seemed a bit shocked at
this, although he appeared to recover quickly.

Smiling at a new idea, he slowly stood.  Then he flew until he stood
behind the mortal.  "How ready are *you*?"

As he touched her neck with his fingers, brushing them up from her
collarbone to her ear, Natalie closed her eyes.  She felt his breath at
her ear, but she refused to budge.  He was trying to scare her, trying
to get her to react...to panic.

"I could do it now."  His cool breath made her involuntarily shiver.  He
seized her around the waist and pulled her back against him, then leaned
down and let his lips almost touch her neck.  "Right now."  He let his
lips slide along the delicate skin of her neck as he breathed in her
scent.

"You could," Natalie managed, trying not to react--either to pull away
or to somehow urge him onward.  In an instant, she felt his fangs press
against her skin, but their presence vanished as abruptly as she felt
them.  Then she felt him kiss the side of her face.

"No.  Not now."  LaCroix released the mortal and flew away from her,
taking the last few steps back behind his chair more slowly.  "Nicholas
would be upset.  You were planning on telling him, yes?  Or no?"

"I wasn't sure which would be better," she honestly answered.

"He should be informed.  He would not take it well, otherwise."

Natalie nodded.  "Do you--"  She stopped, unsure if she should ask her
question.

"Do I...what?"

"Do you think Nick would be capable of bringing me across?"

LaCroix seemingly ignored the question--and her--as he sat back down.
Eventually he answered in a whisper, "No.  Not without...assistance."

"Assistance," Natalie stated.

"If I were nearby, I could perhaps make it more likely that he would
succeed."

"But he still might kill me, right?"

"Yes.  Particularly if he continues to feed from you as he has done of
late.  You are quite lucky he has not extinguished your already
fading...flame."

"And will you?  If Nick tries and, I guess, messes up somehow, will
you--"

"I will do what I can to...save you, if that is what you wish."

"It is."

LaCroix nodded, then made an abrupt movement and picked a pen up from
the far side of the console.  He scrawled his signature underneath
Natalie's, then held the signed paper out.

Natalie went to take it, but he didn't immediately release the note.

"Do not delay overly long in telling Nicholas," he whispered, and
finally released the paper.

Before she could say thank you or anything else, the On-Air light had
popped back on.  Natalie pursed her lips, then left before she could
hear any of his broadcast.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (046/111)

Natalie waited at the morgue until she was sure Nick had gone home...and
then a little longer, as her thoughts had strayed.

Her apartment clean-out had apparently gone well.  A couple of hours
ago, Byron Morrell materialised in front of her desk, scaring her
halfway to a heart attack.  He was there to give her a rather large
stack of bills.  It turned out to be her deposit back, November's
rent--the current month--and any profit from selling her furniture.

Apparently the last had been simple, because of the recent influx of
vampires trying to find places to live--and furniture to put in their
homes--including several who had found themselves newly evicted from the
Raven.  Not surprisingly, LaCroix was far less generous than Janette in
providing free room and board to any and all who wished it.

Arriving at the precinct a little before dawn, Natalie knocked on
Cohen's office door.  Thankfully Cohen was still there, but she was
starting to second-guess herself, even when she was instructed to enter.

"Dr. Lambert?  Is there something--"

"This is more of a personal matter, I suppose," she said uncertainly,
pulling the door shut behind her.

Cohen narrowed her eyes at the other woman's comment and nervous manner.
She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it out to Natalie.  "Would it
have anything to do with this?"

"And what is--?"  She took the piece of paper and stopped cold upon
getting a glimpse of what it contained.  In LaCroix' neat all-caps print
was a very short note which he had signed.  She immediately handed it
back, not even daring to read it.  All she made out was her own name,
roughly in the middle.

"What does this mean, Natalie?"

"What do you mean?  I didn't read it.  I don't--"

Cohen turned the paper toward her, then read, "'If anything should
happen to Dr. Natalie Lambert, I, and no other, am responsible.'  It's
signed by Lucien LaCroix.  Hand-delivered to my desk not ten minutes
ago."  Cohen's eyes caught on another piece of paper in Natalie's hand.
"I take it you were also delivering something?"

"Ah, yeah, actually."  Hesitantly, Natalie handed the slips she had
written, the one with both her and LaCroix' signatures on top, out to
Cohen.

Cohen took the papers, read the note, then appeared to read it another
two times before her eyes lingered on the signatures.  She flipped to
the second page, but only glanced at it.  It was identical, minus one
signature.

"I wanted to--"

"This isn't necessary.  If you wish to become a vampire--"

"It *is* necessary.  I want to shift blame away from Nick as much as
possible."

Cohen glanced to the papers again.  "Why do you feel this is necessary?"
She held the notes up and waved them slightly.  "You refer to being
aware of the possibility of dying, and that if you die, neither is to be
blamed.  Then, before you even got here, I received this," she picked up
the other, somehow cleaner, crisper sheet of paper, and waved it a bit
more harshly, "stating that if anything should happen to you...  Is your
death really that likely?"

"It depends."

"And why is Lucien LaCroix involved in this at all?  Why does he care
whether Nick might be blamed for--"

"Killing me," Natalie stated, cutting the other woman off.

"What is Nick to him?"

"I'm sorry, I can't answer that," Natalie replied, closing her eyes.
She had worried Cohen would ask this, especially after seeing his
signature on her note for Cohen...never mind his own hand-delivered one,
which probably only triggered more questions.

"If you're so afraid something is going to happen, then I need to know,
so that I can adequately explain these if necessary."  When Natalie
shook her head, Cohen leaned forward.  "Are they somehow related?"

"Er," Natalie started, a bit surprised by the abrupt question.

"Janette is apparently related to him."

"Who?" Natalie asked.

"You should remember."  Again Cohen waited for a response, but Natalie
remained silent.  "Or possibly she is related to both of them.  You were
there when Janette mentioned that she had passed the Raven on to a
relative--as well as who that relative was."  Cohen held up LaCroix'
note.  "I did used to be a detective, Natalie.  And people do talk.
There are a lot of different ideas circulating about Nick, as you can
well imagine."

"Captain--"

"Did LaCroix bring him across?  It's the only thing that makes sense,
considering how old LaCroix is estimated to be and by your implication
that Nick is less experienced in--"

"That's not Nick's problem," she said through gritted teeth.

"But he was brought across by--"

"LaCroix," Natalie breathed, closing her eyes again.

"Janette as well, then, correct?"  Getting a nod, she asked, "And he has
agreed to do this to you?  LaCroix has--"

"Yeah, he's agreed."

"But you haven't told Nick yet, have you?" Cohen surmised.

"Not...explicitly.  Not yet," Natalie replied, becoming perturbed by the
other woman's acute perception.

"So are you saying my detective might be a bit more...out of sorts than
usual tonight?"

Natalie winced.  She really wasn't sure how Nick would react to this,
although from his lack of protest at her suggestion in the bathroom, she
hoped it would go smoothly.  "You won't tell--"

"I won't tell him, but I hope you will."

"No, I mean--about LaCroix--"

"No," Cohen immediately answered.  "With what LaCroix did to Beranger,
even though it was pretty much in self-defence, if the media discovers
that Nick is related to him...  Let's just say I'm not sure these will
help much, if at all."  Cohen again held the notes up, then shook her
head.  "I won't tell, but I can't guarantee someone else won't make the
connection.  And if there's anything you can do to--"

"Anything that can be done...has been done, as far as I'm aware."
Natalie paused, then added, "And as you said, there's no way to
guarantee that someone else won't figure it out somehow.  Probably
fairly simple."

Cohen sighed, moving a folder on her desk.  "Just...tell him, Natalie.
He's had enough things either kept from him or dumped on him, and it's
probably better to get it over with sooner rather than later."

Natalie merely nodded in reply.  Yes, she should definitely tell Nick
sooner rather than later.  She'd already planned, in fact, to tell him
as soon as she got home, assuming LaCroix didn't tell him first.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

The loft was rather quiet when Natalie arrived slightly after dawn.
Nick was sitting on the couch with an untouched glass of blood.  Up on
the balcony, immediately outside the door to the bedroom, she could see
LaCroix watching her.  Approaching Nick, she watched the other man
vanish into the bedroom, although she suspected he was still either
watching or at least listening.

Sitting next to Nick, she pulled the glass from his hand and set it on
the coffee table.

"Nat--"

"We need to talk.  Or, well, I need to tell you a few things."

Nick tried to stand, but stopped when she took hold of both of his
hands.  He closed his eyes and brought one of her hands to his lips,
afraid of what she'd tell him.

"Nick, do you know what I want and need to talk about?"

He nodded, not opening his eyes.  "Us," he answered, the word muffled
against the back of Natalie's hand.

"More specifically...me," she corrected.  She was surprised when he
didn't react.  "I want to be brought across.  And I plan for that to
happen.  Soon.  Very soon."

He didn't move, merely shifting Natalie's hand from his lips to his
cheek.

"Nick?" she asked, concerned at his relative lack of reaction, and she
leaned down to try and catch his gaze.

He slowly shook his head.  "No."

"Nick..."

"I don't think I could," he said, his words almost distraught.
"I'd...I'd kill you."

"But LaCroix could."

"You...you would allow him to...?"  His words trailed off out of
confusion.

"Would that be okay with you?" she asked, uncertain.  She had expected
him to immediately tell her he would never allow it, that it wasn't
something he would even consider.  "Nick, answer me.  If he brought me
over, would that...I guess upset you, or--I don't know, make you not
want me, or care for me, or--"

"No," he immediately answered, looking up.  "It wouldn't change how I
feel about you."  He paused, again kissing the back of Natalie's hand
before letting it drop and holding it between them.  "But your job,
Nat--"

She smiled, a bit surprised he'd think of that so soon.  "Don't worry,
my patients are already dead.  It's not like I can kill them again."

He cringed, but admitted, "I wasn't thinking about your patients."

"If you can go to crime scenes and not murder the investigators or
witnesses, so can I."

"You have to be at more crime scenes than I do, though," Nick pointed
out.

"Then maybe you can volunteer to be my chaperone or something at first?"

Nick didn't reply immediately to that, but instead took her hand between
both of his.  "Would you really be okay with LaCroix--"

"Let's see, he's going to follow you around for eternity regardless, so
even if you brought me across yourself...couldn't be much worse being
his, er, daughter instead of his granddaughter, I guess."

"When you put it that way, probably not."  He rubbed his thumbs on the
back of her hand and wrist, trying to calm his thoughts.

"But?"

He hesitated before whispering harshly, "But you would always be his."

"Is that a touch of envy?"

"Yes," he said, letting his emotions show for a moment.  "And LaCroix is
far from..."  Nick glanced upstairs toward his room.  "He's not what you
would call a model parent."

"You turned out okay."

"Not according to him."  He managed a smile, but lowered his gaze to
Natalie's hand, which he still held.  "Are you absolutely certain you
want this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure.  LaCroix already--"

He stiffened and pulled his hands back as though Natalie was suddenly
somehow tainted.

"Look, Nick...my apartment has already been cleaned out.  What
belongings I might want are either at the Raven or here.  And both
LaCroix and Janette have already asked me if I was certain about this.
I've even more or less told Cohen that if I turn up dead, you're not
to--"

"No!" he exclaimed as he stood.

"And so did LaCroix, apparently," she finished, then also stood and
grabbed his hands again.  "Nick, I've--"

He immediately pulled away from her, then was thankful when she didn't
try to seize him again.

Natalie stopped, trying to think.  Pushing up her left sleeve, she
stepped toward him and held out her bare wrist.  "Take it, Nick.  Take
my blood.  You can sense how someone feels, right?  Take it."

He turned toward the proffered wrist, his eyes unable to move from the
warm blood throbbing just below the surface, its pace through Natalie's
veins quickened from their conversation.  "Natalie..."

"I'm not taking no for an answer.  Take it so you'll know exactly what
I'm feeling."

Nick hesitated, but did take her arm in his hands and pulled her closer.
But he stopped.  Did he really want to taste her blood now, when she was
like this, and when his own thoughts were torn?  Yet Natalie's blood
nearly always calmed him, and knowing this, he struck, biting into her
wrist.

Instantly, he was inundated by Natalie's feelings...not only those
regarding her genuine desire to be brought across--what he had expected
and what he initially focused on--but also her feelings for *him*.  He
was surprised at how very strong those emotions were, despite that the
taste wasn't new, just amplified.  He sensed her mind was made up and
had been for many weeks.  Long before LaCroix had left a note for her to
speak with Janette after what they had done the day his sire hadn't
stayed at the loft...  Her mind had been made up even before he had ever
tasted her blood...

He felt another strong wave of memories and feelings from three mornings
before and her unquenched desire for him.  It felt as though she had
undressed them, rather than merely offered her blood.  Then he realised
that was what she truly wanted.

He abruptly stopped drinking from her, let her arm drop, and stepped
away, the powerful draw of her blood becoming too much for him.  He now
wanted more and had nearly forgotten why he had taken her blood in the
first place.

"Nick?"  She started toward him, but he flew up to the second level
landing.  She saw him staring at her, then she saw LaCroix in the
doorway to the bedroom.

Nick tried to say something as he looked down on Natalie, but he also
had to get away from her, put a physical barrier of some sort between
them.  He went to his room, having to walk around LaCroix to enter.  He
heard the door shut behind him.  LaCroix.  His sire had cemented
Natalie's thoughts and amplified her feelings for him.

"Nicho--"

He flew at his sire, slamming him into the wall with a hand around the
other man's neck.  "How dare you--"

"How dare I?" LaCroix asked after he forced his son's hand down, away
from his neck.  "How dare I ask what she wants and promise to oblige her
if you cannot or will not?  How dare I then force her to wait two full
days to tell me what she wishes?"  He laughed.  "I would kill her where
she now sits weeping blood and tears if not for you."  He pulled
completely out of his son's grip and took several steps to the right.

Nick leaned against the wall where he had shoved his sire, his head
bowed between his outstretched hands.  Natalie was, indeed, crying.  He
could hear her ever so faintly below, almost feel what she was feeling
from her blood he had so very recently taken.  "Why, LaCroix?"

The elder vampire met his son's eyes.  "Why give her the choice?  I
could have brought her across earlier this morning, had I wished to do
so."

"I know," he whispered.  "Is that why you've stayed here?  To--"

"I've stayed only to give Janette her privacy until she leaves."  When
the younger man glanced over at him, somewhat startled, he explained, "I
have also moved out of my apartment--quite some weeks ago."

"But why--why are you so desperate that you would do anything to keep
me?"  He pushed away from the wall and took a step closer to LaCroix,
narrowing his eyes.  "We both know you don't want another child.
Besides that, you...you hate Natalie."

"I do not hate her.  I hate what she is to you.  But I have also never
seen you like this.  Infatuated to the point of believing it?  Perhaps.
Truly, irrevocably, in love?"  LaCroix' eyes turned gold and he
half-growled, "No."

"Aren't those the same things to you?" Nick challenged.

"No," he answered, the word stinging with more anger.  "Understand that
I will never forgive what you did.  Never.  But I also cannot inflict
that pain upon you."  He turned to look away, then closed his eyes as he
continued in a whisper, his anger switching to something closer to
anguish.  "Forcing you to leave her...or allowing you to kill her...
You are not like me, Nicholas; you feel too deeply.  It would kill you
as surely as the dawn."

Nick stepped closer to his sire.  It was not like LaCroix to turn away
from him during a conversation, not for more than a word or two.
"LaCroix?"

When the other man didn't turn at his name, Nick put a hand on his
shoulder.  LaCroix turned toward him, his features a mixture of anger
and distress.  To Nick it almost looked like a tear was forming in his
sire's eye; maybe it was his imagination, but something was clearly
bothering the other man.  "LaCroix?" he repeated, this time with more
concern in his voice.

"I will not allow you to kill her," he whispered.  "I will not.  And if
you try to stop me--"

"I won't," Nick said, embracing his sire from behind.  He felt him tense
at the touch, and he repeated, "I won't stop you, even though I..."  He
closed his eyes and held his sire tighter, trying to control his anger.
"But you really should have told me, LaCroix.  At least that you had
asked, or were planning to."

"I did not want you to attempt to dissuade her.  I was not aware she had
already made her decision and, in fact, was already planning for this
eventuality, and that nothing you said would have mattered."  He
grinned, turning his head slightly toward his son.  "She was so ready,
so willing, that her heart actually calmed when I nearly pierced her
throat."

Nick closed his eyes and slightly loosened his grip on LaCroix.  He
didn't want or like to hear his sire talk about Natalie.

"You knew that already, though, didn't you?  Does her blood taste as--"

Nick changed his embrace to a choke hold, pulling his forearm back into
the other man's tracheae.  After LaCroix half gagged, then tried
unsuccessfully to laugh, he bit viciously into LaCroix' neck and took
his blood.  Only then did he release the choke hold.  Hearing his
maker's' wretched chuckle, he pulled back and released LaCroix with a
shove.

Turning and smiling at his barely-in-control child--who was now wiping
the blood from his lips with the back of his hand--LaCroix blithely
asked, "Was it something I said?  Or was it something in dear Natalie's
blood?"

Nick's eyes flared gold and he glared back at LaCroix.

"Feel better?" he asked and stepped back up toward his son.  "I thought
her blood usually had a calming effect on you.  Not this time,
apparently..."

"I'm not going to talk about this, LaCroix!"

"Then perhaps I should ask her myself."  He grinned and started for the
door.

Nick flew and parked himself between LaCroix and the door.

"Or not.  You should at least assure her that you haven't murdered me.
I expect she would be rather disappointed.  And I would suggest you make
sure she eats something.  I find her rather stubborn...like you.  She
allows her emotions full rein over her actions...and non-actions."  He
paused, his smile softening to something more fatherly.  "Do not worry.
I will not let you harm her."

Nick's eyes softened to their usual blue as he examined his sire for a
hint of deception.  "Will you truly bring her across?  Or will you let
her die for your revenge?"

"When she becomes mine, that may be revenge enough," he sneered.
"Or...not.  However, if I drain her, I will not kill her.  I give you my
word."

At the answer, Nick nodded, whispered, "Thank you," moved to the side,
pulled the door open and slid through.  Not pulling it shut, he turned
and looked downstairs.  Natalie was sitting on the sofa, facing away
from him.  "Nat?"

She looked up and saw Nick walking toward the top of the stairs, then
very slowly down them and toward her.  She turned away, hoping that any
signs of her tears had passed.

He sat next to her, then raised his hand to brush a strand of curls
behind her ear.  "Natalie, I--"

"If you really want me to think some more about this, Nick, then I
will."

He shook his head.  "No.  No, you've already made up your mind.  I
won't--it's fine.  Or maybe not fine, but I know this isn't some random
whim.  You've told me several times now over the past almost...  Anyway,
it's fine."

She tried to smile, but faltered and felt herself close to tears again.
"Are you upset that I told Cohen?"

He had nearly forgotten about that.  "I'm...not sure," he whispered, his
eyes shifting down from her eyes to the puffy skin under them.

"If something happens to me, I don't want them to blame you.  Not Cohen
or anyone at the precinct.  *If* something happens.  I don't think it
will, but I thought it'd be a good idea to make it clear beforehand that
whatever happens is my choice."

Nick nodded and carefully pulled her forward to lean against him.  He
could smell the blood from the wound on her wrist.  Even simply touching
the skin on the back of her neck excited his hunger, but he now felt it
was worth it.

"And, ah, she kinda made the connection between you and LaCroix."

Closing his eyes, he held Natalie tighter.  "It doesn't matter."

"Nick--"

"It doesn't matter, Nat," he said a bit more harshly, then his senses
picked up on the blood in the glass on the table.  He released her and
snatched the glass up, downing half of it at once, then the second half
in another large swallow.  It didn't help.  LaCroix' blood had done far
more.  Even Natalie's blood had...until he had tasted those last vivid
thoughts.

"So, should I ask why you went upstairs?"

He winced, but smiled, relaxing a little, despite the question.
"Just...next time I take your blood, don't think about what you were
thinking about this time."

"Ah, what was I thinking about?" she asked, honestly not sure what she'd
been thinking about, beyond her plans to be brought across, Nick in
general, and the last few days.

"Undressing me.  And yourself.  And...other--"  He grunted when she
stabbed her elbow into his side rather sharply.  "Related acts."  When
Natalie tried stabbing him with her elbow again, he caught her, and
turned her.  He nearly kissed her on the neck, but stopped himself.  Now
was not the time to push his hunger, not with how he felt.  Needing to
be away from her for a little while, or at least not touching her, he
remembered LaCroix' earlier comment and suggested, "You should eat."

Nick stood and headed to the refrigerator, where Natalie saw him pull
out one of her garlic-free lasagna containers.  She watched him
tentatively empty it out onto a plate, take a whiff of it, then put it
in the microwave.  For five minutes.  She winced and stood.  She only
ever put it in for three...tops.  For a detective, sometimes he could be
rather dense.  That, or he usually started the timer high and took it
out at some point--after all, he hadn't burnt any of the other meals he
had heated up for her.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (046/111)

The following night, Natalie was called to the precinct.  It was her
night off, and this request apparently wasn't directly work-related.
She wasn't informed why, but she could guess.  Twice this week the news
cameras had caught her and Nick being a little too friendly for mere
co-workers, and both their co-workers and the news anchors were
speculating aloud that he had brought her across.  'Turned her into a
vampire' was the exact wording they used.  She thought that made it
sound like it was against her will.

The really ironic thing was, of course, that she hoped to be a vampire
in the rather near future.  Plus, Cohen already knew she was in the
planning stages.  Making sure she was human now was...  She had to smile
at that.  She hadn't even bothered bandaging or otherwise covering the
new and obvious bite wound on her wrist.

Entering the precinct by the front entrance, she saw a man arguing with
the desk sergeant.  When she passed him, he grabbed her arm and started
to ask her something, until the man at the desk told him she wasn't an
officer or detective and couldn't really help him.  He had let go and
gone back to arguing with the officer at the entrance.

Then she had come up behind Nick, but he turned as she reached her hand
forward.

"Trying to sneak up on me again?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow and
one corner of his mouth in amusement.

"Maybe.  Cohen needs to see me."

"So this isn't some random excuse to--" Schanke started, but stopped
when his partner glared at him.

"Nope, no excuse.  It's my night off.  Cohen called me herself and told
me to come over ASAP."  She saw Cohen nod at her.  "Speaking of
which..."  She saw a bit of worry on Nick's face before she looked away
from him and went to the office.

Natalie automatically closed the door when she saw Schmidt and, in his
hand, one of the black lights they had been using to test for vampires.
"Captain?"

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but the Commission wants to have you tested again,"
Cohen sighed.

"Why?" she asked.  "Other than what's been on the news lately."

"It is partially because of that.  Also, you haven't been at any crime
scenes during the day lately."

"And that's my fault?"  She held up her hands in dismay.  "I can't help
it that most of my patients--"

"I know, and frankly I told Schmidt I'm not going to require you be
tested."

"Just do it," she said, and she held her hand out toward Schmidt, who
stood.  He seemed to hesitate, and didn't turn it on right away.  "Don't
worry.  I haven't been 'turned'; I won't burn."

Schmidt didn't switch it on until he got a nod from Cohen.  Indeed,
after the requisite fifteen seconds, she hadn't burned.

"Anything else?" she asked, a bit ticked--not at Cohen or Schmidt, but
at whoever had ordered the test.  If they wanted to know, all they had
to do was ask, not have her tested.  She was also a bit nervous.  What
would happen if and when she did become a vampire?  At least she would
be over at the morgue most of the time; she wouldn't be forced to listen
to as much whispering as Nick apparently did.

"Actually, yes, there--"  A knock came at the office door, cutting her
off.  "Come in!"

"Er, Captain?" asked the desk sergeant Natalie had seen a few minutes
before.  "I have a man that--well, his daughter went missing on the
31st, and--"

"Missing Persons, Carson."

"I know, Captain, but he says he filed a report a couple of nights ago,
and he's certain she didn't run away.  He's already checked the
hospitals himself.  He's here because of Knight.  He wants to know if
there's some way to find out if, ah, something else could have happened
to her."

"As in?"

"If she was turned...maybe?"

Cohen sighed at this.  "Lambert, go with Carson and find out from Nick
if he'd mind...either putting this man's mind at ease or...whatever."

Natalie simply nodded.  She had an odd feeling.  It couldn't be the
father of the girl she'd seen at the Raven, could it?  "I'm sure he
won't mind, Captain."  Following Carson out, she found they didn't
really even have to ask Nick.  Schanke was standing between the man and
Nick, arguing with the former.  She waved Carson off.

"I only want--"

"Just because you know what he is and where he works doesn't mean you
can barge in here and--"

"Schanke!" Natalie protested in a loud whisper.  "He's here about his
missing daughter."

"And we're Homicide, not Missing Persons, and we haven't had any--"

"Please, just hear me out.  She's sixteen.  She went to a party at a
friend's place on Halloween near that club and then vanished on the way
home after calling us to get a ride and leaving a message on the
answering machine.  She knows it's not the safest route home, and she's
never, not once, been out past curfew.  I only want to know if there's
some way to find out if she's really actually missing or she's...well, I
guess...safe...or if I need to recheck the hospitals...or try the morgue
or something.  And, yes, I already tried going by that club, but they
wouldn't let me in."

Nick simmered slightly, but considered.  Although he didn't have kids of
his own, he knew that his mortal partner would do exactly the same thing
this man was doing if Jenny went missing.

"Just call Janette," Natalie suggested.  From what the man said, his
daughter was almost assuredly at the Raven--unless there was another
sixteen-year-old girl who had gone missing on Halloween night.  Which,
actually, was quite possible, but there was something else...  "If she's
sixteen, she would be easy to recognise, I'd think.  It'll take five
minutes."

"Fine, I'll call," Nick sighed, then nodded to a chair next his desk.
"Sit down, Mr...?"

"Girard.  Thomas Girard.  My daughter's name is Ruth.  She has long,
straight brown hair and hazel eyes.  Her mother's hazel eyes."  The last
he muttered, seemingly to himself.

Nick glanced at the man and reached for the phone, but pulled his hand
back.  "Mr. Girard, it's unlikely I'll find anything, but if she is--"

"We want her to come home," Mr. Girard immediately answered.  "All
right.  I'll admit that my wife and I have thought and said some callous
things about your people, but--we at least want to know if she's okay,
or if we need to look elsewhere."

Nick seemed to consider again, then grabbed the phone and dialled the
number for the Raven.  Miklos answered, and he had to wait for him to
get Janette.  The moment he felt certain she had picked up the phone, he
asked, "Janette, have you seen a young girl about sixteen, who was
possibly brought across on the 31st or 1st?"

"Hmm, is this part of your police business?"

"Is that a no?"

She hesitated.  "Who is asking?"

"You have," he whispered into the phone so that neither Schanke nor Mr.
Girard could hear.

"I do not know her name.  She will not tell us.  She does not know who
turned her, either, but she does not wish to go home or think she would
be welcome if she did.  Something about her father--"

Nick pulled the phone away and turned in his chair away from the others.
"Her name may be Ruth, and if so, her father is sitting right here.  He
said he'd been by the Raven, but not let in."

"We do not allow mortal men looking for young female vampires inside,
regardless of why they say they are here.  The former are likely to end
up dead.  It is bad business for the club."

"Just find out if that's her name, Janette."  Nick paused, and when he
didn't hear her set the phone down, added, "Now."  He swivelled back in
his chair to face the others as he waited.

"Is my Ruth there?" Mr. Girard asked.

Nick ended up looking away again--at which he found Natalie in his gaze.
After nearly five minutes of making excuses for what was taking so long,
he heard the phone shift from where it had been placed.  "Janette?"

"Her name is, indeed, Ruth.  She is terrified that her father will
disown her or something of the sort.  You should turn him away, if he
will go.  She will be fine with us now."

"Keep her there.  I'll try talking to him, but we may be over shortly."
Nick hung up before Janette could reply.

"She's there?  My daughter?"

"Mr. Girard--"  Nick took in another deep breath and closed his eyes.
Opening them, he glanced at Natalie before again looking to the man.
This was going to take more than five minutes--it already had.  "Yes,
your daughter is likely at the Raven."

"So, she's--like you?"

"It sounds like she's been brought across, yes."

"Is she okay?"

Nick shook his head.  "I can't answer that.  You should go home, Mr.
Girard.  Go home and--"

"Go home?" the man repeated, disbelieving the detective's suggestion.
"I can't just go home, pretend nothing happened.  She's my daughter!  I
have to see her for myself.  Even if she--even if she won't look at me,
I want to see that she's alive.  Or--are vampires even--I wish to see
that she isn't dead, or whatever the polite way to put that is."

"It would be better if you just let her go; she'll be taken care of."

"Do you--did you ever--have children, Detective?"

Nick looked down at that.  There was no way he could win this argument,
not without at least Janette to help reason with the man.  "Schanke,
I'll be back."  He stood and watched Mr. Girard brighten slightly.  "I
can't guarantee we'll go into the club or that you'll see her.  And you
have to understand that she may not want to see you...and it could be
dangerous."

"I just want her to know her mother and I still love her."

"And I understand that, but--"  Nick sighed.  "Give me the keys to your
car.  I'm going to ask you several questions on the way over."

The man hesitated, but realising it was somehow a condition, he handed
them to the detective.  That, and he really didn't feel like driving
anywhere now, anyway.

Nick gave a glance to Natalie, then gestured for the man to leave ahead
of him.  If it came to it, he would send the man home against his will.

"Dr. Lambert?"

Natalie winced and turned to find Cohen standing in the doorway of the
office.  She wasn't alone; Schmidt stood behind her.

"Is everything okay, Natalie?" Schanke whispered.

"Yeah, it's fine.  Be back again, Skank."  Natalie walked back to the
office.  "Captain?"

"Close the door, Doctor."

She did so, then went to face Cohen again.  "What--"

"I want you to stay here until Knight returns."

"Why?" she asked.  Something was wrong.  Then she vaguely remembered
Cohen trying to tell her something else.  "Captain, has something
happened?"

"Yes and no," she answered, sitting at her desk.  "I didn't call you
here just to have you tested.  You should know that Commissioner Vetter
became rather concerned after seeing certain files this afternoon."

"Files?  What files?"

"Natalie...Nick is possibly going to be in for a lot of flak.  Schmidt,
show her what you were faxed."

"I, ah, got this about an hour ago," he said, holding a file folder out
toward Natalie.  "It's the same thing your police commission saw, as far
as I'm aware.  I know quite a few people weren't thrilled about
discovering a vampire working as a police detective, but any protests
were relatively minor--I mean in a public job like that, some concern
was expected, and he was actually getting off pretty easy in that
regard.  Well, apparently they've only been easy on him because they
were still researching, and they found a ton more than I managed to find
when I first looked.  And it's not pretty, either."

Natalie tensed when he said the last, and nearly let go of the folder.
Then she broke eye contact and opened the file.  She felt ill upon
reading the first few lines.  She didn't even read them in order, but
allowed her eyes merely to catch on different things.  They had Nick's
name, his mortal name.  Next, her eyes caught on Nick's birth-date--to
the day, December 6th, 1193.  After seeing his sister's name, Fleur, her
mind went blurry reading the names of other relatives--his parents,
brother-in-law, nephew, uncle, etc.  She couldn't believe they had found
that much information on him.  She nearly raised a hand to cover her
mouth when she read 'Turned by Lucien LaCroix (see Lucius Valerius
Divius(?)) between 1226 and 1229.'  How the hell had they pinned that
down?

"It started with LaCroix, actually, but they didn't have much luck
researching him...not until Nick was identified.  I'm afraid that quite
a bit of this is going to be released to the public soon, and, well,
some of this isn't going to be good.  It looks like wherever Nick went,
people died."

Natalie barely listened, instead scanning the rest of that page.  It
went into a partial chronological history of Nick's life.  It was
horribly detailed at times, although this read more like a fact sheet.
He had met enough well known people that there were occasional notes on
their observations about him.  Some of the more interesting--and she was
sure incriminating--information were pictures and sketches and scans of
what appeared to be paintings.  The couple of wanted posters were
particularly awful.  The most recent pictures of him were mostly scanned
photographs, much like his badge photo.  They went in order, dated,
interspersed with the rest, and she couldn't help but notice how Nick's
life drained out of him the longer he lived, especially the last
century.  It saddened her, and she found it hard not to touch a few of
the pages.

After the report on Nick, was a similar file on LaCroix.  His had less
detail.  Much, much less detail.  There were, however, a lot of notes on
his origins.  To her horror, it looked as if they might have guessed the
right 'Lucius'.  Although it was only a guess, his probable identity, it
seemed to fit.  A legatus--by the notes, a commander, essentially the
equivalent of a general--with his last known location listed as Pompeii
soon before Vesuvius' famous eruption.  His only mentioned family was an
illegitimate daughter, who was stated as having been quite ill and
apparently living in Pompeii.  But after that, there was a large blank
period, pretty much until Nick appeared.  At that point, any mentions,
she suspected, were tied directly to Nick--particularly some matching
wanted posters.  She wondered idly whose untimely death had resulted in
those...and who had caused those deaths.  She felt no better now than
after she had finished skimming the first file.  Janette didn't have a
separate file, which surprised her--but then, maybe they just hadn't
gotten around to her yet...or maybe they just hadn't given Schmidt that
information yet.

This was not at all good, and she looked up.  "You said they're going to
release this?" she asked.

"Ah, yes," nervously answered Schmidt.  "Probably tonight, or that's
what we suspect.  And I don't know how accurate any of this is, but--"

"Why are you telling me instead of Nick?"

"Because he had to leave unexpectedly," Cohen answered.  "I'd have
pulled him in here by now, if not for that.  When he gets back, I want
him to see this."  She hesitated, then asked, "Natalie, can you confirm
if what they have on them is right?  Particularly LaCroix?"

Natalie shook her head.  "Captain, I really don't know much about him,
and I won't confirm or deny anything in either of these files."

"Can you somehow contact him?" Schmidt asked.  "I have a feeling he
won't appreciate being blindsided by this, whether any of it is true or
not."

"No.  Not right now, anyway."  She closed her eyes.  "Is this a copy,
or...?"

"Yes, it's a copy.  Take it.  No need to return it," Schmidt answered.

Natalie opened her eyes, closed the file, and stood.  "I'm going to wait
for Nick out..."  She gestured toward the bullpen.

"The conference room I've been working out of--he can review the file in
there, if he'd like some privacy.  Or wherever," Schmidt said, not quite
meeting Natalie's gaze.

"And wait just a second, Natalie.  Schmidt, I want to know the minute
any of that is released to the public."

Schmidt nodded and hesitantly left.

"I didn't say anything to anyone about Nick and LaCroix being
connected," Cohen said the instant the door shut.  "I took those notes
home and left them there."

"I know."

"Can you tell if this could be fabricated?"

"Well, they have the right Nick, as in who he was...before, I suppose
you could say."

"So he actually is 800 years old?"

"Yep," she said with a bit of a cringe.

"And LaCroix?  I know I already asked, but--"

"I only know enough to say that they very possibly could have the
right....General Lucius.  I don't know for sure, but from what little I
know...it does fit with what they have."

Cohen nodded.  She had expected as much.  "Can you make sure Nick comes
right back here?  And maybe tell him he might need to call his...ah..."

"Father?  Yeah, I can do that."  Natalie fidgeted a second before
turning and leaving the office.  She went to Nick's desk and sat with
the file sitting closed in front of her.  Nick hadn't been gone quite
long enough to call him yet.

"Nat, is something wrong?" Schanke asked.  "You look a bit, er, pale."

She looked across the desks at him.  Schanke's worry came across in
everything about him, his expression, the way he sat; she must look
awful.

"Actually, you look downright--"

"It's the media," she said with a sigh of disgust.  "They found
something else to broadcast.  And it's...I'd say it's bad.  Or maybe
they've already aired it, but offhand I'm thinking they haven't.  I'm
sure Nick would have noticed before he left, with those sensitive ears
of his."

"What do you mean?  What's hitting the airwaves this time?  What's bad?
I thought they already did their thing with Nick.  I mean, other than
the recent juicy bits on you two, as in plural, they've actually backed
off.  Thought they were out of material."

"I wish they were, but no, they have more now.  A lot more."  She opened
the file, pulled the first page out of the folder on Nick, and after a
few seconds of hesitation, passed it across the desks to Schanke.

Schanke's eyes flitted to the wounds on Natalie's bare wrist, but then
he took the paper and instantly forgot the puncture marks.  The colour
drained out of his face when he read the detailed information on his
partner's mortal life, particularly the names of his immediate family.
"Oh, geez.  They're really gonna do this to him?"

"Looks like it."

"Do you know how accurate--"

"Very, Schanke.  I have no idea how they found some of this."  She took
the piece of paper back, then flipped through to the first page of
LaCroix' file.  While he didn't think the vampire would be thrilled,
Schanke did already know the bulk, and the news channels wouldn't think
it any less interesting than the new information on Nick, so she handed
the file over.  "And it's not only Nick.  You know how they were trying
to find out stuff on LaCroix from way back?  I mean, they didn't find
anything, but...  Well, I think Nick led them to him."

Schanke took this piece of paper and, while he didn't pale any further,
he felt a bit sicker.  "Is this all there is?  I mean on his...any idea
what happened to the daughter?"

"Assuming it's even him."

"You don't know if it is?"

Natalie shook her head.  "I have a feeling even Nick and Janette don't
know LaCroix' full mortal name."  She pulled the paper back, then asked,
"Do you think Nick's at the Raven yet?"

"I don't know, maybe."  When she reached for the phone, he saw the
wounds on her wrist again.  "Do those--never mind."

"What?" she asked, then realised his eyes were locked on where Nick had
bitten her that morning.  "What about it?"

"Do they, well, *hurt*?  I know, kind of a stupid question, but they
look so...painful."

"No, not really," she answered honestly.  The wounds only hurt right
when she was bitten, and maybe a while after.  And, frankly, after being
bitten half a dozen times overall, the pleasure far outweighed any
momentary pain.  She wasn't about to tell Schanke that, though.

She reached for the phone again and was thankful that he didn't ask
another question.  She hit redial since Nick had last called there, and
when she heard the bartender's odd accent, she quickly said, "Is Nick
there?"

"Yes."

"I need to talk to him."

"He is busy."

"What about Janette?  Or is she also busy?"

"She is also unavailable."

After a couple of seconds of consideration, she asked, "What about
LaCroix?  Is he there?"

"No."

"Can you relay a message to Nick?"

"What is it?"

"He needs to get back to the precinct as soon as he can.  His captain
has something he needs to see.  It's really important."

"Has something happened?"

"No, or not yet, anyway.  But it will soon.  And it's not good.  Do you
know how long he'll be?"

"No, I do not, Dr. Lambert."

She winced at the anger in the bartender's tone.  "I'm sorry, I'll let
you get back to work, but if you can, please tell him not to...dawdle."

"I will pass your message along."

Then she heard the dial tone.  He had hung up on her.  At least Nick
should, she hoped, get her message.

"Nick there?" Schanke asked.

"Yeah.  He and Janette are apparently busy."  She saw Schanke wince and
look away, and it took her a bit to realise what he was thinking.
"They're probably playing mediator between Mr. Girard and his daughter."

Schanke nodded, then after a second, he paused and paled.

"What?"

"Well, you know how teenagers are...  I guess a teenage vampire would
be, er, double the trouble, right?"

"Probably more than double, Schanke.  A lot more."  She closed her eyes,
then explained, "I was at the Raven, ah, running an errand a few nights
ago, and saw her.  Janette thought she'd been hit by a car and some
vampire found her dying and brought her across."

"What were you at the Raven for?"

She inwardly flinched and reached for the file with Nick's and LaCroix'
background information.  She wanted to look at it a bit more before Nick
got there--especially what there was on LaCroix.

"Natalie?"

"I needed to talk to Janette about something."

"Janette?"

"That's what I said."  She kept her gaze down and flipped through the
file on LaCroix.  There really wasn't much there, but this second time
through, she felt worse somehow.  It seemed more likely it was him.

"You don't look so great, Nat.  You should probably leave that file for
Nick.  While I'd like another go at it, it's really not any of our--"

"I'm not looking at Nick's."

"Oh."  Schanke shuffled a few files on his desk before whispering, "I
can't imagine him having a daughter, though.  He's too...evil.  Don't
suppose it says how old she was?"

"Nope," Natalie answered.  What she wanted to know was how this
abundance of ancient, incredibly obscure information had been unearthed
in the first place.  And what LaCroix would do if it were true.  She put
that page back, and flipped back to Nick's file.  They had discovered
most of his aliases, and quite a few blocks of time were filled with at
least where he was and what his job was--and if LaCroix or Janette were
there.  To her disgust, it appeared as though LaCroix had indeed stalked
Nick wherever he went.  Not that anyone else would realise that the two
were actually at odds with one another through most of that...and that
LaCroix' presence was, more often than not, unwelcome.

"Nat, Schmidt's at your six."

Natalie jumped and shut the folder just before she heard him say her
name.

"Dr. Lambert?"

She turned in the chair to find Schmidt shifting nervously.

"I just got word that the news is out.  So far...so far it's in a
condensed form, and just Knight's, but what I saw wasn't pretty--they're
talking a fair bit about his origins and emphasising his connection to
LaCroix," Schmidt said the last in a whisper, before asking, almost
worryingly, "Is he back yet?"

"No."

"Cohen wants you to keep an eye out and warn him.  She's not sure how
the others will react to finding out he's related--"

"I get it.  No need to repeat it."

Schmidt winced.  "I didn't tell anyone anything about him.  I swear it."
He scurried off, leaving Natalie alone at Nick's desk again.

"You heard that, Schanke?" she asked.

"I heard that first bit.  Great.  Back to having Mr. Depressed for a
partner.  Unless this makes him finally crack."

After a pause, she said, "Don't make him feel any worse, okay?"

"Make who feel any worse?" Nick asked a few seconds later as he came up
behind Natalie.

Schanke nearly replied, but his phone rang and he picked it up for an
excuse to avoid answering.

"What are you still doing here, Nat?  Miklos said something about you
calling and--  What's wrong?"

She stood up, moved out of the chair, shoved Nick in front of it, and
tugged on his arm to get him to sit.  Then she pointed at the file.
"Just...open it.  It'll take about two seconds and you'll know."

He looked up at Natalie uncertainly, then reluctantly sat.  In an
instant, his almost good-natured mood shifted, and he shut the folder,
not wanting to read anything more.  They knew who he was, who he
originally was.  And they knew LaCroix had been the one to bring him
across...and roughly when.

"It's supposedly already on the news, although I don't think they're
mentioning everything yet.  According to Schmidt, anyway."  She leaned
forward and opened the file to the information on LaCroix.  "And, ah,
they also apparently figured out who LaCroix was.  Including who he is
to you, although I think you already saw that."

Nick read what little there was on LaCroix' origins and his vision
blurred.  He had known almost none of this.  Granted, LaCroix wasn't one
to talk about his past, and even less about his mortal past.

"Is what they have on him right?" she whispered.

"I don't know."  He shut his eyes and shook his head.  "But I think it
is.  That name, the daughter's name--I thought it was gibberish he was
saying, but--"  He shook his head again, this time more quickly.  "I
didn't realise it was a name."

"Hey, Knight," Schanke said, hanging up his phone.

"Now what?"

"Sorry.  Somewhat good news, though.  Our crazy ex-wife who stabbed the
new wife?  Get this--she checked herself into a mental hospital.  And
the hospital found our likely murder weapon in her bag.  Talk about
insane."

"Don't--"  Nick shook his head again.

"We need to pick her up and bring her in."

"Now?  Schanke, I need to call--"

"Nick," Natalie said, leaning over him slightly, "You call him and I'll
run it over."

Nick closed his eyes.  He really wanted to talk to LaCroix himself, but
his sire might simply shut him out anyway.  "All right," he eventually
answered, and picked up the phone to call CERK.  Hopefully LaCroix would
be there.

Natalie headed after Schanke, who was in Cohen's office, letting her
know where they were going.

"Dr. Lambert?"

"Ah, Captain, do you want me to come back here later tonight?"

Cohen shook her head.  "No, you don't need to come back here, not unless
you think you need to."

"Thanks."

"Natalie?" Cohen called when Natalie turned to leave.  "Did you tell
him?"

She nearly asked 'Tell him what?' but realised it had to be about that
morning.  "Yeah, I did."  When Cohen went back into her office, she
noticed Schanke watching her.

"What was that about?"

"Er, nothing, Schanke.  Or nothing to bother with tonight.  It sounds
like you two have enough to deal with at the moment."  Her gaze shifted
to Nick, who was now putting his coat on.

"He'll be over in about half an hour."

"Over?  Over here?  Or your place?" she asked, a bit worried.

"No, the morgue.  Sorry."  He closed his eyes and shook his head a
couple of times before mumbling, "Week from hell, that's what this is."

"Actually, Partner, I think this is the start of week three from hell,
if you start with being splayed out on the pavement in a pool of your
own--"

"Schanke, I told you not to make him feel worse," Natalie reminded him,
grimacing.

"Sorry.  But, I mean, it can't get worse than that, can it?" Schanke
asked, glancing between the two.

"Hopefully not," he answered.  "But, yeah, Nat, I guess...make a copy.
I want to look at it some more, and I don't know if he'll want the whole
thing or what.  Or what he'll do when he sees it."

"Did you tell him what it is?" she asked, then saw him wince.  "You
didn't tell him?"

He gave her a half-smile and headed out after Schanke.

Natalie snatched up the file and her purse and followed them, hoping
she'd have enough time to get to the morgue and get copies made before
LaCroix popped in.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Natalie had just finished making the copies at the morgue when she was
startled by an unexpected hand seizing one of the copied pages--the
first page of Nick's file.  She didn't turn toward LaCroix until the
last page had run through, then she put the original files back in their
folder.  By then LaCroix appeared frozen, staring angrily at one part of
that first page.

"How did they discover this?" he eventually demanded, turning to the
mortal.

"Ah, most of the info on Nick's mortal family was probably easy to find,
once they knew what to look for.  I'm not sure about the rest."
Tentatively she pulled the paper out of his hand, added it to the top of
the stack, and shuffled them so that the file pertaining to him was on
top before handing it back.  "This is actually what he wanted you to
see."

LaCroix took the papers, then read off his own name.  Not the name he
had been using for over half his existence, but a name he hadn't used in
its entirety since he had left his mortal life.  A few lines down was
another name he hadn't heard in nearly as long.  He closed his eyes and
held the papers back out to the mortal.  "Take it and burn it."

At the barely restrained rage she heard in his voice, she jumped
slightly, but accepted the papers back from him.  "Is it--"  She stopped
mid-question when he opened his eyes and golden irises blazed back at
her, effectively answering her unvoiced query.

"Where is Nicholas?"

"He and Schanke had to go pick up a suspect."

"He mentioned something about the news.  Has this information been
aired?"

"Unfortunately, yes, although not all of it, from what Schmidt said.
But they have definitely discussed your connection to Nick.  Or, well,
Nick's connection to you.  I'm not sure what else they've mentioned."
She watched him turn to go, and without thinking, she said, "I'm sorry."

LaCroix stopped and turned.  "Sorry?  For what?"

"Your daughter.  I take it she died as a child?  Or very young, at
least?"

He laughed, the sound almost manic, his emotions momentarily breaking
through his typically stoic demeanour.

"Assuming that's--"

Regaining most of his solemnity, the ancient vampire replied, "Yes, I
had a daughter.  And yes, she...died...some time ago."

When he again turned away, Natalie suggested, "There's a TV in the break
room.  I doubt anyone is in there right now, if you want to see what the
news is saying."

LaCroix stared at the mortal for several seconds before breaking eye
contact.  "Thank you...Natalie," he said, then finally turned.

"When will you be back at Nick's?"

He stopped.  "Why?"

"I want to talk to you."  She hesitated, then added, "I'm ready to set a
date, I guess."

"I plan to be at the Raven for the majority of the night.  You may join
me there."  Then he left.

Natalie was tempted to check to see where he went, but decided against
it and simply returned to her desk.  He looked none too happy about what
he had read, and she felt torn between not doing anything and calling
either Nick and/or Cohen, in case LaCroix headed to the precinct.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (047/111)

Arriving back at the precinct, Nick felt almost dizzy.  Whispers from
his co-workers were worse than ever, in both quantity and content.  They
already knew what LaCroix had done to Beranger, and although it was
generally accepted as self-defence or instinct, rather than an outright
attack, learning that their colleague had been turned or created by such
an apparently brutal being as LaCroix bothered them even more.

So, too, did the fact that he was eight hundred years old.  Never mind
any of the rest.  It seemed as though he could either have lived in a
monastery or been a hired killer for all that time and it wouldn't have
made much difference.  His very age and the fact that he was a vampire
was enough to make people assume the worst.  In the same way Schanke had
nearly panicked when he had told him his age and realised how many
people he had likely killed, the others had finally realised how many
thousands he had likely murdered.

Then there was something else he couldn't shake.  It felt like someone
was watching him, and he knew that someone had to be LaCroix.  Janette
would have come into the precinct, but LaCroix...he would wait for him
to go to him.  "Damn him," Nick muttered to himself.

"What?" Schanke said.  "Come on, Nick.  Ms. Simmons is waiting."

Nick scanned his surroundings, trying to remember what they had been
doing.  He had been following Schanke, letting him take the lead so he
wouldn't have to think.  They were currently in the hall outside the
interview room.  Ms. Simmons was their suspect for the stabbing from the
31st.

"Hey, Partner, it's time to join the living," Schanke said, waving a
hand in front of his vampire partner, who was staring blankly at the
wall like a zombie.
 
Snapping his attention back to the present, Nick told him, "You'll have
to do the interview without me, Skank.  I'm pretty sure LaCroix is
outside, and I need to talk to him before he comes in here and...I'm not
sure what he'd do if someone tried to stop him."

Schanke's eyes widened slightly, but then he reluctantly agreed,
whispered, "Okay...and, er, good luck, I guess," and headed into the
interview room.

Nick stood there for a second, trying to zone in on where his sire
waited.

The parking lot.

He headed back through the main part of the precinct, his thoughts torn
between yelling aloud that he could hear what everyone was saying about
him and his original goal of meeting with his sire.

Exiting the precinct, he found LaCroix out in the open, leaning up
against Schanke's car.  He nearly cursed.  The only thing that stopped
him was the presence of some of his co-workers, staring in wide-eyed
terror at LaCroix.  Annoyed by the other vampire's presence, Nick strode
up to him and asked, "Why are you here?"

"You know why, Nicholas."

"Did you get the file from Natalie?"

"I...glanced at it.  And watched the news."

"Then why are you here?  You know as much now, if not more, than I do,"
he repeated, putting his hands on either side of LaCroix against the
roof of his partner's car.

"I had Janette leave tonight."

"Why are you here, LaCroix!" he half-yelled at his sire, his eyes
turning gold and his fangs itching to descend.  The few others in the
parking lot glared at them and sped up their pace on their way inside.

"Apparently to cause a scene."  He nearly laughed, but halted the
thought and the half-laugh twisted into a sneer.

Nick closed his eyes and bowed his head.  "You shouldn't be here.  If
there was any question whether or not you were--"  He shook his head
angrily, then again focused on LaCroix.  He really didn't want to argue
with the other man, and certainly not right now.  "What do you want?"

"I want to know how they obtained this information on us."

"How would I know?  History books, maybe?  Museum storage rooms and
displays?  I don't know why you'd expect me to know.  You've used the
same name the entire time I've known you, and I know enough about
Roman--"

"How did they find out about Divia?"

Nick leaned forward and whispered, "So they have your name correct,
then?  And you did have--"

"Yes...and yes.  Their information is far too accurate, given the sheer
amount of time that has passed.  Even considering my...occupation as a
mortal."  LaCroix said the last with distaste.

"Why didn't you say something to Janette or me about--"

"Our mortal lives are to be forgotten, Nicholas!  How many times have I
told you to let go--"

"Is it because of what happened to you?  Is that why--"

LaCroix laughed and shoved one of his son's hands to the side so that he
could walk several paces away.  The other man still knew nearly nothing
about his origins.

"Why are you laughing?  There's nothing amusing about this, nothing at
all.  Not if you lost a--"

"Lost?  What exactly have I lost?"

Nick moved closer again, despite that the parking lot was, for the
moment, completely empty.  "Your...daughter.  I take it she died when
Vesuvius--"

He laughed again.  "No, Nicholas.  She did not die.  Not by the
mountain's fire."

"But what--"

"She was the one who brought me across.  My own daughter!"  Then his
flash of anger subsided and he smirked again.  "My precious child."

Nick found himself once again shaking his head, thoroughly confused.
"But if she lived, why--"

"She is long dead.  She..."  LaCroix closed his eyes, his thoughts
coming abruptly together.  "Of course!  The one who healed her," he
whispered to himself.  "It must be."

"What is it?"

"She was seen by some of the best physicians and healers available from
Rome to Greece and Egypt.  It required correspondence.  Much
correspondence."

"That means some record must have survived somewhere, and your name must
have--"

"Or they simply assumed she was mine," LaCroix bitterly cut his son's
words off.  After all, one of his names--and her name--hadn't been
common.  He brushed his own thoughts away with a sharp shake of his
head.  "Regardless, you must find out how they discovered this.  And
make sure that is all they know."

"LaCroix, I can't--"

"Ask that mortal.  It would be natural for him to be curious."  LaCroix'
attention drifted for a moment as a car pulled into a nearby parking
spot, which he glared at.  Then he moved close to his son, backing the
other man up against Schanke's car.  "Janette wished you to have this.
Perhaps you will put it in a frame on your desk."

Nick closed his eyes when his sire whispered the last into his ear, only
to open them upon feeling something pressed into his hands.

Then LaCroix took off right there in the middle of the parking lot,
despite the two onlookers.

The two detectives approached until their gazes met Nick's.  "Oh, it's
just Knight, or Brabant, or whatever his name is," one of them replied
to his partner, and started back toward the building.

The second laughed lightly and asked, "What'd your father want?  Giving
you instructions on who to kill for lunch?"

Nick closed his eyes again.  News that LaCroix had made him and was more
or less family to him had spread fast.  By now, probably all of the 96th
precinct nightshift--and soon the entire Toronto Police Department,
perhaps even the world--would know for sure that the news was right.
And the comments directly to his face had finally started.

Nick waited until the two had entered the precinct before he followed.
Only once inside did he check to see what LaCroix had given him.  It was
a picture of the three of them--Janette, LaCroix, and himself--from
about a hundred years ago.  The corner of his mouth twitched ever so
slightly up at the sight of it.  There weren't many pictures of all
three of them together--particularly with them all looking relatively
happy, as in this picture.  It was Janette's favourite picture of the
three of them.

"Hey, Pardner."

His partial smile vanished seeing Schanke start toward him.  "I thought
you were questioning--"

"She wants her lawyer, so we've got to wait on that.  Not one bit crazy.
She knows exactly what she did.  *Exactly.*  Hey, whatcha got there?"

Nick brought his hand down, but Schanke's hand darted for the picture.
He had to let go of it or let his partner ruin it, so he released it and
continued on to his desk, where he watched Schanke stare a bit open-eyed
at the photograph.

"So, when'd you get this?"

"Just now--from Janette via LaCroix.  She left tonight."

"No, I mean when was it taken?"

Nick hesitated, but answered truthfully, "Late 1800's.  LaCroix
suggested I put it in a frame on my desk."  He shook his head at that,
trying hard not to laugh at the absurdity.

"You could, you know."  Schanke looked back at the picture for a moment
before telling his partner, "At least no one would ask why it's so
realistic looking, how come you look the same, or why you three are in a
picture together to begin with."

"Schanke--"

"It's blasted all over the news!  And they don't yet have much info on
Janette, but they're already saying she's...  Well, technically they're
saying she's your sister, but they mean that she was--"

"Schanke, you don't need to explain it.  They're--sounds like they're
rehashing at least some of it."

"Yeah, I guess that's true...  You might want to watch it later, though.
They got photographs and sketches and stuff of you guys."

"I know.  Nat--"

"Yeah, but actually seeing their take on it is a bit different than
reading through that file.  Looks like they dug up a lot of information
on your family--and you.  More than what was in that condensed form."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked even as he let his ears focus more on the
television in the distance.  Almost immediately, he regretted it.  How
had they known LaCroix and Janette had gone home with him?  And how had
they known he had gone back again when Fleur had died?  That he had even
attempted to take care of her son, his nephew?

"So...you had a sister?"

Nick jerked out of his thoughts and whispered, "Yeah, Skank, I had a
sister."

Schanke became uncomfortable at that.  "How is it that they know so much
about you, anyway?  I get why they have all the sketches and whatnot
from later, but...I mean, they know more about you than you do about me,
and you know me..."  He trailed off, then asked, "I don't get it.  Were
you, like, royalty or something?"

Now it was Nick's turn to squirm.  "Not...exactly."

"But you weren't just a regular person, your average Joe from way back
then, right?"

"Not exactly."

"Come on, Nick.  You might as well spill it before the news does.
Assuming they haven't already and I just missed it.  Heard something
about a castle, a duchy...whatever *that* is, and they have--"

"Schanke, look, I really don't want to talk about this right now.  Ask
me sometime when we're at the morgue, or...anywhere but here."

"This is really getting to you, isn't it?" Schanke asked.  When his
partner didn't answer, he whispered, "What about, you know, your--"

"Father?"

Schanke winced.  "So, what did he want, other than this?" he asked,
tossing the photograph on his partner's desk.

Nick glanced at the photo of the three of them, then took it and shoved
it into his centre desk drawer.  Thinking of LaCroix, he no longer
wanted to see the other man staring, smiling up at him.

"Is what they have on him as accurate as what they have on you?"

Nick hesitated, but nodded.  "And wait--you said they expanded on what
you saw about me, right?"

"Yeah, a bit, but only stuff like your family.  Natalie didn't show me
the rest, though, so...  It's mostly been your original life and then a
lot of discussion about where the three of you all were at once.  Saying
you--"

"Did they expand on LaCroix' family like that?" Nick asked, cutting his
partner off.

"No, I don't think so.  But, like I said, I missed some of it while I
was back with Ms. Simmons."

Nick stood and glanced uncertainly toward the hall.  This time he wasn't
going to delay his questions.  LaCroix had been unusually agitated.  Not
that he blamed him, but it was unlike his sire to let something from
that long ago have an effect on him.  What little LaCroix had somehow
shared about his personal history was usually used to mock or used
against someone in such a way that he never knew if it was made up or
not.  And here, nearly eight centuries after LaCroix had brought him
across, he had finally discovered who had brought his sire over.  And
LaCroix had told him, rather than Janette.  "Schanke...I'll be back," he
said, then headed purposely toward the back hall and knocked on the
conference room door.

Nick had noticed Cohen's empty office and heard two hearts beating
within the room.  When told to enter, he did so slowly.  The television
was on, and Nick shut his eyes the moment he saw a vaguely familiar
building.  It was worn down by weather and time, but he felt ill seeing
daytime pictures of his mortal home.  Yes, they had done their research.
Ignoring the two saying his name, he crossed to the television and shut
it off.

"I take it you're here to talk to Schmidt?" Cohen asked.

Nick nodded.  "I have some questions for him."

"Then I will return later."  She waited a few seconds, apparently hoping
she might be asked to remain, then left.

Nick didn't stop Cohen, but kept his gaze on Schmidt.  Once the door was
shut, he asked, "Do you know how they found out so much about us?"

"Frankly, you weren't that hard to research," Schmidt answered, casting
his gaze away.  "Your family was well known enough that I did actually
stumble across those names during my own research on you.  I had no way
of knowing at the time if it was more than coincidence, but I suspected
it wasn't.  And as for the rest...you've worked with or around humans
quite a bit over the--"

"What about LaCroix?" Nick asked; he didn't need details on himself.

"I never found anything on him, but apparently he was also rather well
known.  It's probably just a result of all the time they've had to work
on it by now...the information on both of you."

"I don't think so," he whispered in reply, his eyes not leaving the
mortal.  "Lucius was a very common name in ancient Rome...and for a very
long time.  I'm not sure even any vampires knew his full mortal name
before tonight.  I didn't."

"Then they got it right?" Schmidt asked, a bit of incredulity sneaking
into his voice.  "His name, the daughter?"

"Apparently," Nick responded, reusing the other man's word.  "I want you
to find out exactly how they discovered he had a daughter.  If you don't
already know."

"No, I don't know."  Schmidt turned away again, but only for a second.
"And I'm sorry, but I don't think I can--"

Nick's eyes turned gold, cutting the mortal's response off cold.  "Find
out what kind of document or inscription or whatever that knowledge was
lifted from."

"I don't think--"

"Try."  He closed his eyes, knowing he had changed.  "It will not hurt
to try.  If LaCroix thinks you are keeping anything from me, he will
question you himself.  And make no mistake, he will find anything you
might be hiding."

"But I'm immune.  He can't--" Schmidt stopped when Nick reopened his
eyes.  They were blue again, but there was still some sort of warning
there.  "Are you suggesting he could--?"

"Possibly.  He--earlier this year, he managed to make Natalie forget
several hours.  She eventually remembered, thanks to all of this and
meeting him again, but yes, he was able to influence her."  He looked
away again.  "And if he thinks you know more than you're saying, he will
find out wherever you are staying and make sure you succumb.  So I'd
suggest you give it your very best effort."  He turned to leave.

"I might not have any luck.  Those I work for, they know I'm
somewhat...well, partial to you.  I really might not get any answers."

Nick hesitated at the door, then left without replying.  He had at least
asked, and he hoped LaCroix would be satisfied with that for the moment.
It was one less thing to worry about tonight.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Natalie waited until it was nearly time for the Raven to close before
going over.  She was surprised when she was immediately allowed
entry--the bouncers at the door just stepped aside.  Had LaCroix said
something to them?  That she might be coming over that night?

Regardless, she found the club still quite full, despite the late hour,
and spied LaCroix at the bar, appearing rather more annoyed than usual.
His gaze flitted to her for a second, then away again, even as she
approached.

"Are you all right?" she tentatively asked upon reaching the bar.

"Why wouldn't I be?"  He flashed her a half-smile, but his eyes didn't
quite mirror the rest of his expression.  "Now, to business.  Your date
of choice?"

"A week from tonight.  Or, I guess, a week from earlier yesterday.  It's
my day off.  It might be better to--and I believe Nick is off the
following night, just like this week."

"That's...rather soon, isn't it?" LaCroix noted, his eyes narrowing at
the mortal.  "Particularly with tonight's news.  Would you not prefer to
see what the mortals do to our dear Nicholas before you--"  He abruptly
stopped, realising what he had said.  This time he smiled more fully,
not only at his own reaction, but hers.  She had stiffened and expected
him to argue.  "You don't care, do you?  Of course not; you are too much
in love with him."

Natalie was distracted by LaCroix' mention of Nick being 'theirs' rather
than either hers or his.  She barely registered the hatred with his last
words.  "Ah, so--"

"As you wish.  One week."  LaCroix turned to the bar and his glass that
he had obtained some time ago, but not taken even a sip of.  "Janette
would have liked to stay, but I told her to leave tonight.  Perhaps she
will be spared this...public tell-all."  He roughly picked up the glass
and took a large drink from it.  "You can be certain that you will not
be spared."

"Janette already left?  Nick talked to her earlier tonight--"

"Her belongings were already packed.  Had been for some time.  Many of
her things are still here but, yes, she herself has left."

Natalie was a bit nervous asking, but she was curious.  "Do you know
what happened to the girl?  I think her name was Ruth.  Nick came here
earlier tonight with her father to--"

"Ah, yes.  The girl may remain at the club until she can find and afford
a place to live elsewhere.  Her father wisely agreed that having a teen
vampire in his home would be a...disaster waiting to happen, as Janette
put it."  LaCroix took another sip from his glass, although this time it
was quite small.  "Nicholas convinced her to continue her education--and
her father agreed.  As did Janette.  She will be fine.  A very sweet
sixteen...forever."  His lips twisted into a fleeting smile, then he
quickly drank the rest of his glass, set it on the bar, and left.

Natalie watched him curiously, wondering why he let the girl stay there.
She fully expected him to say that she had left with Janette or was
staying with some other young vampire--not that she was still being
allowed to live at the Raven.

She gathered her things and left for the loft.  She wanted to make sure
she neither had too little nor too much food for the next week.  Then,
of course, there was the small matter of exactly what to tell Nick...and
precisely when to do so.  Hopefully she'd find a good time to tell him
that morning.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (048/111)

"Hey, Nick?"

Nick was startled out of his thoughts, memories of some of the things he
had heard on the news or discussed by his fellow co-workers.  "What?"

"Time to go home.  Was ten minutes ago."

"Home?" he asked, still rather out of it.

"Yeah, home."  Schanke hesitated a moment, then added, "And you're
getting a ride there."

"Schanke--"

"You look like you're plastered."  When his partner continued to stare
at him half-blankly and half-incredulously, Schanke grabbed his
partner's coat and held it out.  "Come on, Partner.  Don't want you
taking a wrong turn toward sunrise or something and going poof.
Besides, Natalie's probably getting worried about you."

He woke up a little upon hearing Natalie's name, then pulled the photo
LaCroix had given him out of the drawer he had shoved it in earlier that
night.  He didn't want to leave that there, in case anyone went
snooping.  Not that it really mattered anymore, but he didn't want it
taken.  Standing, he put his coat on and followed his partner outside.

"Feel better?" he asked as they reached the parking lot, now devoid of
people.

"Yeah, actually."

"You're still going to accept a ride home."

Nick flinched slightly, but continued with his partner to his car.  To
be honest, he didn't feel like flying.  Or driving.  Or even
walking...not that he'd get home before dawn if he walked.

Only once they were on the road did Schanke ask, "Okay, so what's up?"

"What?  You mean beyond a large chunk of my life--mostly the nastier
parts at that?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose there's that...  Actually, for some reason, I
think you being out of it has something to do with Natalie."

Nick stiffened at that and turned his attention out the window.  How had
Schanke guessed?  But it wasn't his place to tell his partner of her
plans, not while she was still mortal.  "You'll have to ask her, then."

"But something's up and you know what it is, right?"

"Yeah, Schanke, I know."

"Can I come up when we get to your place?"

Nick shook his head.  "Sorry, Skank.  If you come up, LaCroix will drag
you into our imminent argument.  But I'll tell Nat you want to talk to
her.  I'm sure she'll come down."  He turned to his partner, and got a
hesitant nod.

Schanke didn't say anything the rest of the way to the loft, and waited
in the car as he had been told.  A few minutes later, he jumped when the
passenger side door opened and Natalie took his partner's recently
vacated spot.  "They're not going to murder each other today, are they?"

Natalie flinched.  "No, I don't think so.  Nick said you wanted to talk
to me?"

"Er, yeah."  He fidgeted before asking her the same question he had
asked Nick, "What's up?  I know something's up, and it has nothing to do
with tonight, but it's something to do with the two of you.  Nick
apparently knows about it, but he clammed up--told me I'd have to ask
you.  So...what's up?"  He paused, but she had tensed, which just made
him more curious.  Something *was* up!  "Come on, Natalie...  You know
you want to tell me...  And you know I'll keep on asking until one of
you talks..."

Natalie took in a slow, deep breath.  He'd find out sometime anyway, she
supposed...and soon.  "I'm going to be brought across."

Schanke's eyes lost focus.  "Brought..."

"Brought across.  Made into a vampire."

"I know what it means.  But, what, Nick actually agreed to do this?"

She flinched again.  To be honest, he didn't really have much choice in
the matter, short of killing her.

"What?  Obviously Nick knows, but--"

"I only told him last night."

"So *that's* why he's so out of it.  And that's why you went to the
Raven but wouldn't tell me, right?"

"Kind of, yes.  I guess I was given the option there."

"By who?"

"LaCroix.  By way of Janette."

"You're going to let that son of a--"

"He's going to bring me across in six days.  Nick doesn't know that yet,
not unless LaCroix is telling him right now."

"Good God Natalie...why didn't you say something?"

"I couldn't exactly talk about it in the precinct.  I'm sorry, but we
knew you'd react...well, everyone would know."

"So you're not telling anyone?  I mean beyond Cohen, and--"

"No.  And Cohen doesn't know when, not yet.  Frankly, after tonight, I'm
tempted to delay that until it's all over."

"So, er, six days?  Which is, what, next Friday?"

"Yeah, next Friday."

"And you're sure?  Absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent certain
about this?" he whispered.  "Not that I think you haven't thought it
through, but you know Nick is really--well, I had more people come up to
me tonight, making comments about Nick than in the entire last couple of
weeks.  And you do realise that it's kinda, er, permanent...isn't it?"

"Yep, it is.  And if anything, I'm even surer now, with what happened
tonight.  I even went through my food supplies and made sure I only had
enough to last until then."

"You tossed--"

"Actually, I had to go to the store."

"And you're sure--I mean, can't Nick do...whatever?"

She started to answer and saw that Schanke was quite concerned and quite
serious.  She shook her head.  "It's complicated."

"Yeah, so, try explaining it."

"Honestly, I can't.  And I'm sorry, but all I can say is that,
unfortunately, LaCroix is the better choice.  At least if I want to
actually survive the experience and become a vampire."

"As opposed to...as you are now?"

"As opposed to dead, Schanke."

"So Nick was telling the truth when..."  He trailed off and paled,
suddenly feeling queasy.  "But that creep, Nat, he's--"

"His big problem is that he's obsessed with Nick.  So even if Nick
brought me across, I still wouldn't be rid of him.  And don't worry; I'm
fine with that.  And it doesn't mean for sure that Nick won't do it,
only that if he doesn't, then LaCroix will."

"So I guess Sydney is staying--"

"Well, my apartment has already been cleared out.  Everything's gone and
I'm not going back.  And, frankly, I don't think Sydney will like me
much in a week.  So I hope he has a permanent home with you and your
family?"

Schanke smiled, pleased that he could help.  And he would never admit
it, but he rather liked the little fur-ball as well.  "Yeah.  Jenny will
be thrilled.  Sydney really likes her."

"Good.  Now, I should go back up."

"And make sure those two are playing nice?"

"Yeah.  Don't want Nick to murder LaCroix...at least not before Friday."

Schanke paled a bit further at that, then started a bit when Natalie
stood back up.

"See you."

"Tell Nick to try and relax on his day off.  If he can."

Natalie smiled, then shut the door.  She would tell Nick, but didn't
think anything would get him to completely relax right now.  She gave a
quick wave to Schanke as he left, then she went back inside.

When she had left, LaCroix had been pacing, anxiously waiting for Nick
to arrive.  Now that they were together, she knew the two would be
engrossed in yet another argument.  Once the elevator arrived back up to
the second floor and Natalie pulled the door open, she winced at
LaCroix' tirade.

"Our mortal past is something to be forgotten.  Let go your mortal
bonds!  I have told you that how many times over the centuries,
Nicholas?"  LaCroix glanced toward the mortal for a second, her presence
distracting him, then turned back to his son.  "Ignore their idle
taunts.  They are nothing."

"Nothing?  Really?  From what I've seen, you don't seem to be doing so
well with that yourself."

"It is different."

"It is no different, LaCroix!"

"Of course it is.  Divia was--"  He stopped, glancing to the mortal.

"What they had on her was no worse than anything they have on me.  Just
be glad they don't know everything."

Natalie slowed her approach and glanced to Nick even as LaCroix glared
at her.  "What do you mean, be glad they don't know everything?" she
asked Nick, then she turned to LaCroix.  "And why is this affecting you
so much?"

LaCroix' gaze again shifted, this time back to his son, and he sneered,
"Natalie has six more days to remain mortal."

"What does that have to do with--" she started, but didn't finish her
sentence when LaCroix flew up to the upper balcony, effectively ending
their conversation.  She turned to Nick, whose eyes were now closed.
"Nick--"

"Were you planning to tell me?" he asked, rounding on her.  "*Before* it
was done?"

"Of course I was!  I would have told you this morning, which is the
soonest I could do it short of telling you at work," she almost snapped
back, then shut her eyes for a moment while she took in a deep breath.
"Now, what *is* his problem?"

Nick sighed deeply, then answered, "Divia.  She...she's the one who
brought him across."

Natalie was stunned at the additional news.  She could barely wrap her
mind around it.  "His *daughter* is the one who--"

"Apparently."  He walked over to Natalie and touched her chin, gently
guiding her gaze to his.  "Considering what's been on the news, and how
everyone's been treating me as a result, are you sure you still want--"

"I'm sure, Nick.  Nothing is going to change my mind--certainly not
what's been on the news tonight."  Seeing him shake his head, she said,
"Your past would have come out eventually.  And his."

"And how we're connected," he added.

"I don't care what they show on the news or what people say.  They don't
know you like I do."

He closed his eyes and bent his head down so that their foreheads
touched.  Natalie's skin was so warm, and he now had an urge to take
hold of her and not let go, not once, as long as that warmth remained.

"Nick?"

Straightening, he forced a smile to his lips.  "I'm still getting used
to the idea."

"I know."

"And I want to--I'm sorry, but I need to try talking to LaCroix.  Please
stay down here, at least for a little while, okay?"

Natalie nodded, seeing his apologetic expression.

He turned and walked up the stairs, then pulled the door to his room
shut behind him after giving her another glance.

She could see that he really didn't want to go, but she could understand
why he wanted to talk to LaCroix...and why LaCroix might not want to
have anyone ask more questions.  While it was only a guess, the news
outlets were assuming LaCroix had at least witnessed the famous eruption
that had buried Pompeii.  They were also assuming that he had been
turned around that time, or shortly after.  He had simply vanished after
the eruption, after all.  It made sense.  She had a funny feeling he
would be getting some rather interesting phone calls in the near
future--and more of historical interest, for a change, rather than the
comparable creepiness or complaint variety.

Since she had already eaten her morning meal, Natalie ended up flipping
the television on, hoping for something to drown out any audible
argument--although that appeared to be unnecessary.  To her disgust, she
kept hitting news, and a good half or more of it concerned Nick and/or
LaCroix.  She immediately flipped the channel--she had watched enough
earlier that morning--and eventually found a movie she had seen several
dozen times.

The downside of that was that she fell asleep sooner, then woke abruptly
during a commercial.  Over two hours later.  Seeing the time, she
flipped the television off and went up to the bedroom to see if the two
were still awake.

The first thing she noticed was that the door was no longer fully
closed--it was cracked open a little bit.  She was thankful for this; it
meant less noise as she entered.  Inside, she found the two fully
clothed and asleep on top of the comforter.  They were lying on their
sides facing one another and, approaching, she saw two puncture wounds
in Nick's neck.

Nick looked paler than usual, and she thought back to something she had
brought home from the morgue.  In the fridge was a unit of her own
blood--one she had drawn earlier that night.  That blood, however, was
in case Nick wouldn't take her blood again before LaCroix brought her
across.  She wasn't entirely sure if he would, but this way, if he
became worried, he could have it with less risk of harming her.

Carefully, she touched his hand, then turned away, only to find his
fingers gripping hers.  Looking back, she found him staring at her.  He
had either been awake or she had woken him.

"Stay," he whispered, not letting go of Natalie's hand.

"I'm only going to--"

"No, just stay."

She nodded, then tried to tug her fingers free.  "I need my hand back;
at least for a moment."  She watched his lips quirk up into a smile at
her words moments before she felt her hand released.  Then she slowly
walked around the bed, at which he rolled onto his back, and she lay
next to him.

Almost immediately he again grabbed her hand, and it wasn't long before
they were both once again asleep.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (049/111)

"Hey, you two.  I don't have anything ready yet," Natalie said, hearing
the morgue doors open and seeing two detectives enter.  She waved them
off toward her desk, adding, "Don't mind my oversized paperweight over
there."

Anderson and DuBois looked past Natalie and toward her desk.  Nick was
sitting in her chair, his arms folded on top of a pile of papers with
his head down, apparently sleeping.

"Isn't it Knight and Schanke's night off?" DuBois asked.

At his name, Nick woke and sat up, a bit groggy from being half-asleep.

"He wanted somewhere quiet, and, well, can't get much deader than a
morgue."

Nick closed his eyes and shook his head slightly at Natalie's joke.
"What did she call me this time?  Her desk decoration again?"

"Paperweight," Anderson answered, grinning.

Nick groaned and hung his head.  "Demoted.  You almost done, Nat?" he
asked, standing.

"Actually, yeah," she said, tensing slightly when he approached.  She,
was, after all, doing an autopsy.

Nick leaned in and whispered, "I'll get your lunch ready," then he left.

She was a bit surprised by his comment, but somewhat thankful he hadn't
kissed her, which she had expected he'd do when he started toward her.
Her attention turned to the other detectives.  "So...right."

"Cause of death?" DuBois asked, giving a nod to the woman on the table.

"Like I suspected this afternoon--suicide.  Sorry.  Everything matches
with a self-inflicted gunshot wound."

"And ballistics?"

"Match between the bullet and the gun found next to her."

"Not typical for a woman to--"

"I know," Natalie answered.  "Nick and Schanke already commented on
that, too."

There was an awkward silence before Anderson asked, "So how's he doing
with things, anyway?" and jerked his head back toward the door.

"I don't know--how would you feel if you were him?" she asked, her tone
a bit harsher and sharper than necessary.  "Sorry.  Although,
considering that he'd rather be in here, even during an autopsy, than at
home, proves--what?"

"I wouldn't think a vampire would mind, well, *that*," DuBois said,
gesturing to her gloved but bloody hands.  He went a touch green at the
thought and looked away.

"Really?" she asked, a bit surprised.  But then there wasn't much
information on how vampires reacted to everyday things--certainly not to
very dead, bloody, and cut up mortal corpses.  "Maybe you should start
using a few more of those sharp observational skills."  She turned back
to her patient, who she was nearly done sewing back up.  "Now, shoo.
I'll have the report ready later in the morning--a few hours, probably.
Right now I need to finish and clean up before my lunch...is here."

Nick entered with her lunch and glanced between her and the other two
detectives.

"Nick, take that back to the break room, okay?  I'll be there in a
couple of minutes."

He hesitated, looking at the two again.  He hadn't really talked to
either of them since that one meeting.

"Unless you want to help me with..."

Nick shook his head after a glance toward the body and left the room
without another word.

Anderson's gaze followed curiously after Nick, but DuBois ignored him
and asked Natalie, "So, you'll have the report in a few hours?"

"Yeah.  Should have it ready in about three or so."  She turned back to
the body, then added, "Assuming nothing new turns up.  I can bring it by
when it's ready, if you'd like."

"Nah, we'll pick it up later.  Come on, Andy."  With that, DuBois left.

Natalie watched the other detective hold back, teetering on his heels
for a moment.  "Question?"

"Not about our case."

"Nick, by chance?"

"Yeah."  Anderson hesitated a second time, then said, "Maybe you could
tell him not to react much to stuff."

"What stuff?" she asked, turning away from her patient again.

"Well, you know the news was saying he was a Crusader--a soldier in one
of the medieval holy wars--and I've heard a few jokes about that and his
job...you know, white knight crusading for good.  Or black knight--heard
that, too.  Saint Nicholas.  I wouldn't put it past someone to try a
cross on him; I know it said in the hand-out that religious artefacts
work, so...  And I even heard a comment that he thinks he can somehow
make up for all the things he's done; maybe even why he picked his
name."

Natalie froze at the last.  That she knew that was at least partially
true, although she thought it was as much that he liked helping people
in general, and not only to make up for the things he had done.

"We've been getting a lot of that aimed at us, too, because of working
with Schmidt."

Now Natalie winced.

"It's fine.  We don't really mind; for us, it means we don't have to
take sides.  I don't know if he's gotten any comments directly--I think
most everyone is too afraid of him to try it--but, who knows, that might
change.  And, anyway, it's more *how* they say it that's really...it's
more mocking.  And I think that the ones who are saying those
things...they don't think he's...they only see vampire, not cop.  Not
*him*."  He glanced at the clock.  "Sorry, but I really need to go."

"Sure, I'll tell him," she replied, then Anderson immediately left.
Less than a minute after the doors closed, she heard them very quietly
open.  "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I heard," Nick answered, but kept back by the doors.  "The dark
knight crusading to avenge his sins.  Perfect."

"Bit too close?"  She turned around and noticed his gaze was rather
dark.  "Don't let it bother you, Nick."

"I can't help it.  It's as bad as LaCroix' constant taunting; sounds
like they're saying it in the same tone, too."  He looked toward the
woman's body and closed his eyes.  "If only I couldn't hear it, wasn't
a--"

"Being mortal wouldn't get rid of unwelcome comments from others.  You
know that."

"Being mortal now would probably get me killed."

"If you were mortal, you would already be dead.  That crossbow bolt
would have killed you, you know," she reminded him.  The night Nick had
been exposed, the hunter had missed his target and hit him instead.
Nick had been damn lucky to be a vampire.

Nick silently nodded.  She was right; he wouldn't have survived
otherwise.

She glanced back to her patient.  "Now go back to the break room and
wait for me there.  I should only be a few minutes."  She waited until
Nick had relaxed a tad before she left, but she still worried.  He was
being affected more by his past fully being revealed than when the news
of what he was had first gotten out.  And it sounded like it would only
get worse.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

The following night, Nick wished he were back at the loft.  Or at the
morgue.  Either way, he wished he could just touch Natalie, hold her
hand, anything.  Her warmth eased his thoughts.  Better yet, it helped
him let the lingering comments whispered about him slide into oblivion.

Anderson had been dead-on about what others were whispering, thinking.
At least so far no one had come up to him, although he thought a couple
had considered it, only to chicken out after catching his gaze.  That
was almost amusing.  Almost, if it weren't for hearing their
conversations after.

If Natalie had been with him, his mind wouldn't constantly return to
their words.  And, he suspected, she would probably help keep others
away.  But thinking about Natalie, he now worried.  In five nights she
too would be a vampire.  He was afraid of what they would do to her, of
what she would hear and how she would react.

He hadn't told Natalie everything that was being said about her--how he
was using her...or, almost as often, how and why she was using him.  He
wasn't sure she realised how much the others were talking about either
him or them--or how much they would talk about her, once the news that
she had been brought across got out.

Schanke wasn't helping his focus, either.  His partner's concern was
even more apparent than Natalie's.  Worse, he kept his attention on him
more than any of the other detectives or officers did.

"Hey, Nick--Cohen."

At this, Nick turned to see Cohen walking toward him from the back hall
with a plastic tub, which she set on his desk.  "Captain?"

"Mail for you.  Don't read it on the clock, not unless all your work is
done."

"Mail?" Nick asked.

Schanke got up and walked over to the plastic tub and pulled out one of
the envelopes.  "Hey, check it out!  An overnight from Amsterdam.
Cool."  He waved it at his partner.

"The few I glanced at the addresses for were mostly from universities,"
she added.

"Great," he muttered.  He could guess what they were about--his living
through history.  When Cohen left, however, a smile flickered across his
face.

"What?" Schanke asked, noticing his partner's abruptly better mood.
"Come on, you've got to tell me why you're grinning...because it sure
isn't this."

"I wonder how much LaCroix has gotten..."

"Wonder if he's burnt it..." Schanke said thoughtfully.

Nick chuckled at that.  "I'll let you know...if I ever find out, which I
doubt I will."

"I want to see what this is," Schanke said, and proceeded to open the
large envelope without asking permission.

Nick didn't stop him and noticed other eyes watching Schanke rip into
the envelope.  Then he saw his partner scowl and pull his head back.

"Might as well be in Danish," he said, frowning as he handed the letter
to his partner and headed back to his desk.

"Dutch, actually," Nick immediately answered.

Schanke leaned forward.  "Dutch?  You mean you can read it?"

"Somewhat," he said truthfully.  He hadn't exactly kept up on his own
original language; at home, he had mainly spoken French.  Not that
either language had remained exactly the same over all that time, but
after a bit of thought, he had a good idea what this was about.

"So?  What is it?"

"I think it's a job offer."

"A job offer?  Really?  Doing what?"

"Teaching."  He put it back in the envelope and chucked it back into the
file box.  He really hadn't expected that, although he supposed it made
sense and wasn't too far off what he had expected.  Who better to teach
history than someone who had literally lived through it?  And he *had*
taught before...and now the whole world knew it.

"But...you wouldn't leave us here, would you?"

Nick hesitated, but shook his head.  "I don't plan to.  Not soon,
anyway."

"Good.  'Cause if you leave now, I know who I'll be stuck with for a
partner, and I gotta say I'm not--"

"Hey, Knight, what's that, fan mail?"

Nick winced at the voice from behind him, then watched his partner
started to show his annoyance at the comment.  He didn't want Schanke
involved in this anymore than he already was, simply from being his
friend and partner.  "Don't, Skank," he said, his ears locked onto the
footsteps behind him.

"Or you going by some other name now?"

Nick let his chair swivel around and he saw that it was one of the
uniformed officers he barely knew.  In fact, it was one of the few he
couldn't even think of their name--his name tag said Mills, but he
didn't know anything about him.

"It still says 'Knight' on my badge."  He waited, but the officer merely
smiled back at him.  The man reminded him of LaCroix a little...or his
arrogance did.  "What do you want?"

"I have something for you," the young man said, walking forward.

Nick noticed the officer bringing up a hand, fist closed and palm down.
He had a fairly good idea what it was and held his hand out.  As
expected, he felt pain when what could only be a crucifix was dropped
into his hand.

"Give it to your partner or your girlfriend.  Whoever needs it more."

Nick closed his fist around the cross and forced a smile to his lips.
"Anything else?"

Mills waited for a moment, then seemed disappointed and almost
frightened at the vampire's lack of reaction.  "Not right now," he said,
then left.

Nick spun back to face his desk, then, calmly but quickly, he let the
cross drop onto the open case-file on his desk.  Both the palm of his
hand and his fingers were burned.

"Dang, I'm gonna--" Schanke said and started to stand.

"Don't bother.  He just wanted to make a point."

"What, that you're a vampire and vampires are burned by crucifixes?" he
said, gesturing at the burns on his partner's hand.

"That my weaknesses are known."

"So?  I expect mine are, too."

"Did you hear what he said, Skank?  'Give it to your partner or your
girlfriend.  Whoever needs it more.'  That means you and Natalie."

Schanke paled a little at that, even though he had heard it the first
time.  "Yeah, but that's not really--"

"Everyone knows you two are essentially my only mortal friends.  And,
frankly, those I associate with do tend to end up worse off.  I've
rarely let myself get so comfortable with--"  He shook his head.
"Anyway, I want you to know that I'm sorry for all of this."

"Why?  I'm not getting any worse comments now than I did before--at
least now others get why you're a bit weird.  And I'm sure Natalie
doesn't care, either."  Schanke then hesitated, catching on something
his partner had said.  "And don't say 'comfortable' like it's a bad
thing, Knight.  I think that's a good thing, and I think Natalie would
agree."

Nick fiddled with a pen, twirling it in his fingers, thinking.  Would
she agree once she was like him?  Or would she become like LaCroix and
Janette and most other vampires?



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (050/111)

Over the past week, Natalie had to go to the morgue during the day
twice.  First a few days ago to a crime scene in the late afternoon, and
today she had been called out soon before dawn.  She ended up staying to
do the autopsy, and it was now a bit past ten in the morning.

On the plus side, she had taken the opportunity to call Grace on her
break that morning...and tell her the news.  She didn't know how busy
LaCroix would keep her, and she had wanted the other woman to hear it
from her rather than the media.  That had gone...interestingly.  She had
been lucky and reached her friend the first time she had called, but
Grace had been a little subdued--beyond asking if she were absolutely
certain she wanted to go through with what she had planned.

She hadn't told Grace who would be doing the deed, only that her plans
were set, and in a couple of days she would, hopefully, be a vampire.
Her friend had asked other questions about her mention of
'hopefully'--and she had had to once again convince her that she was
sure about her decision--but at least they had had time and she had been
able to tell Grace before it was done.

It also prompted another promise that she would call again afterwards,
but Natalie had told her she didn't know when she would....reminding
Grace that she'd have to possibly relearn how to do her job and that, as
a result, she might not have much free time.  She did promise to call if
she needed someone to talk to; while Grace wouldn't really be able to
understand, she'd at least try and listen.  Despite the promise, Natalie
knew who she'd really end up talking to would be Nick...or Janette or
maybe even LaCroix, but she finally placated her friend enough that they
ended their conversation soon after.

Upon arriving home at the loft, she found Nick and LaCroix already
asleep.  LaCroix was down on the sofa, for some reason.  And Nick...to
be honest, he hadn't looked that great the last several nights.  Other
than holding her hand in a death grip, or perhaps resting his head on
her shoulder, he had been sleeping more or less flat on his back in a
rather death-like state.  Today was no exception, and he lay there
stiffly on his side with his arms crossed protectively over his heart.

Nick hadn't taken her blood the last several days--not since she had
offered him her wrist so that he knew she was serious about being
brought across.  LaCroix would do that in two more days.  Forty-eight
hours...give or take a little.  She wasn't quite sure exactly when that
day it would be done.

She wasn't sure if Nick's depressed mood was because she would no longer
be mortal, or if it was from the last week of being taunted.  He had
received a rather large amount of mail--everything from job offers, to
language questions, to history questionnaires.  Then, of course, was the
inevitable hate mail.  That varied from garlic soaked paper, a miniature
fortune worth of crucifixes--many of which were real silver, and a
couple others were gold--quoted bible verses, and even accusations of
murdering relatives.

Nick kept fading off to something resembling a vegetable whenever he
thought too much.  He had even stopped responding to LaCroix' comments
to the point that the other man had given up and almost completely
stopped talking to him, beyond idle pleasantries.  The other concerning
issue was that she wasn't sure Nick had been drinking enough blood.  In
fact, she hadn't seen him drink anything since his past had been
revealed on the news.

About the only things Nick reacted to were Schanke trying to cheer him
up at work, and then her.  He almost always smiled if she kissed him, or
even when she briefly touched his hand or was nearby.  Every second he
wasn't at work, he tried to spend with her.  He'd been coming by the
morgue during his lunch, and once he was off the clock, he'd drop by and
stay, either until she was done or until dawn.

Not even bothering to eat, she changed for bed, then went back up to the
bedroom.  He hadn't moved a millimetre, and frown lines were carved into
his forehead.  Lying next to him, she reached out and touched the hand
he had on top and gently pulled it down.  Then she did the same to his
other hand, at which his eyes fluttered open.

Nick started to roll away as Natalie moved closer and guided one of his
hands down to her waist.  It wasn't that he didn't want to be near her,
but he knew he might take her blood without thinking and didn't want to
risk losing her.  Managing to lie back, he closed his eyes right before
she leaned over him and kissed him on the lips.  He pushed her back with
difficulty.  "Please, Natalie.  Not right now.  Please--"  The rest of
his plea was cut off when she kissed him again.
 
"I want you to take my blood again.  Once more before I'm brought
across."  She waited, hovering over him, hoping he would answer.  He
didn't, so she kissed him again on the lips, trying to get him to react.
Soon she felt his fangs prick her tongue, and for a moment their kiss
deepened.

"No," he growled, and he pushed Natalie away again, this time holding
her just far enough away that she couldn't kiss him again.  Or not on
the lips, so instead she turned her attention to his neck.  Now he found
he couldn't push her away, not after she kissed and nipped at his neck.
He could still taste the precious few drops of her blood in his mouth.

Pulling back, she looked down into his needy eyes.  "Please, Nick.  Take
my blood."  She kissed him ever so lightly, tantalisingly on his lips.
"Make sure the wound is visible to others."

He was so stunned at this that he didn't reply, not even when she kissed
him again and then kissed along his jaw.  Momentarily he heard light
footsteps in the hall and felt LaCroix' presence closing in.  What could
it hurt?  However much distaste he felt about the other man staying
there and being so close as he took Natalie's blood, he did trust that
the elder vampire would ensure he didn't kill her.  With that thought,
he struck when she nipped his neck under his ear, and he bit her on the
side of her neck, pulling her closer.

Natalie didn't struggle, and in fact practically leaned in toward him.
She saw flits of images as he continued to drink from her.  True, she
had seen a few things the other times he had taken her blood, but this
time the images melded into one another, over and over.  Suddenly, she
realised he was taking more than he should, but by then she found there
was nothing she could do.

Natalie's grip loosened before spasming and relaxing again, and Nick
pulled back, only to find her limp atop him.  Gently he rolled her once
more onto her back.  "Natalie?  No...no, what have I done?"

Natalie tried to answer, but found herself short of breath.  She was
dying; she knew it, and as he leaned over her, she saw the life
evaporate from him.

"Too much...or too little?" LaCroix asked, approaching only to stop at
the edge of the bed.

"Why didn't you stop me?" Nick whispered and cupped the side of her face
with his hand.  "You said you would--"

"Not allow you to kill her.  She is not dead."  He almost smiled.  "She
may be soon, however..."

Nick closed his eyes and let his head drop to Natalie's shoulder.  He
could hear her heart struggling to continue to beat with her diminished
amount of blood.  He felt her try to move her arm, and he looked at her
again.   She was trying to speak, but kept faltering before actually
saying anything.  "Natalie?"

"Should I bring her across now?" LaCroix mused and sat on the edge of
the bed.  He brought a hand toward Natalie's face, but his son shoved it
back before he could touch her.  "Or would you like to?  She has few
options, Nicholas.  And little time to wait for a decision."

"No," she breathed, drawing their attention back to her.  "Fr-friday,"
she managed after a few tries.  She wanted to do this as planned, if at
all possible.  There was still another option, if she could somehow
manage to say it, so she tried again, but merely managed to say, "Frid,"
after several attempts.

Nick's gaze shifted to the wall behind his sire.  He knew he had taken
too much.  She wouldn't recover, not on her own.  The more she
struggled, the faster she would die.  Phone.  He needed to call for an
ambulance...or he needed LaCroix to bring her across, despite her desire
to wait.  When he pulled away, her hand snagged his shirt and he
stopped.

"Fridge," she finally managed.

"Fridge?  What's in--"  Nick watched LaCroix turn away and his anger
rose at yet another thing withheld from him.  "You know what she means,
don't you?"

"Yes."

When his sire didn't elaborate, Nick pulled away and left the room,
going for the refrigerator.  He hadn't actually opened it for several
nights now.  He had barely fed, only having a couple of partial glasses
that LaCroix had abandoned.  It was one reason he had tried to tell
Natalie no...and why he had taken too much.

Pulling the doors open, he found almost no food inside, several bottles
of blood...and a plastic box down near the bottom.  He pulled this out,
opened it and recoiled at the barely contained scent of Natalie's blood.
Nick closed his eyes and reflected on what he now held in his hands,
trying to figure out why she had done this.  Her blood told him.  It was
for him, her Plan B, if she couldn't get him to feed from her again.
But he had, and so it was no longer needed, at least not for him.

Discarding the box, Nick set the plastic bag of blood gingerly on the
kitchen table, then went to find Natalie's medical bag, hoping she had
considered this might happen.  Apparently she had.  He found an IV line
set off to one side, near the top.  He grabbed it and a couple of
alcohol swab packets, then retrieved the bag of blood and flew up to the
upper level.

Reaching his room, he froze in the doorway.  LaCroix stood there,
leaning slightly over Natalie, licking something off his fingers.  That
something was almost assuredly her blood.  He fought down his anger and
continued forward.  Natalie was unconscious now, but relatively stable,
at least by his ears.  He was thankful when his sire moved without a
word and he took his place, setting the items on the bed next to
Natalie.

"Do you know what you are doing, Nicholas?"

"Well enough," he murmured and ripped open one of the swab packets, then
cleaned a spot on her left arm.  Next, he attached the narrow plastic
tubing to the bag, at which he became worried by the coldness of the
blood.

"What is wrong?"

He glanced over at LaCroix, and muttered, "Hopefully nothing."  He wiped
the needle as well, and let the blood flow through the tubing to the
end, at which he carefully took her arm.  This was one time he was
thankful for being a vampire--he had no trouble inserting the catheter
into a vein.  Then, holding up the bag, he told LaCroix, "Hold this."

"I am not a--"

"Just hold it for a moment...please?"  Once LaCroix had taken the bag,
he shifted and pulled the comforter completely off the bed, folded it,
then recovered Natalie, tucking her in.  Next he leaned forward and
kissed her on the forehead.  She had drifted off to something more
resembling sleep, her heartbeat slightly irregular, but stronger.  She
would not die this day.  "Why didn't you stop me?" he asked again in a
whisper.  "I want to know why."

"I had planned to.  But you stopped of your own accord before I reached
you."  LaCroix closed his eyes for a second, then turned to leave.

"Stay...please stay."

"And be forced to endure your once again rather unnecessary
self-flagellation?" LaCroix said and spun, gesturing toward where
Natalie lay still.  "I think not."

"Please, LaCroix."

He hesitated and restrained his anger at the plea.  He couldn't ignore a
plea unaccompanied by his son's baggage of morality.  The younger man
truly wished he would remain; he could feel it.

"Please stay."

He shut his eyes tight for a moment, then finally nodded.  Only once he
had stepped back toward the bed, however, did his son start to relax.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"I am going to work, Nick," Natalie said, pushing past him for the
half-dozenth time after managing to get dressed--which took longer than
she had expected.  He had been overly concerned for her, right from when
she had woken to find him lying next to her like a hurt little boy to
now, where he wanted to follow her everywhere like a puppy to make sure
she would remain standing.

Granted, she worried about that last, herself.  She hadn't dared take a
shower, for fear that she couldn't stand long enough, although she did
end up rinsing and then practically washing part of her hair in the sink
where her blood had gotten in it.  Finally she had dampened the whole
lot with her hands before shoving it back in a clip.

"Obstinate, isn't she?" LaCroix commented to his son.  "Rather like you,
in a way.  Headstrong.  Unable to deviate once she has made up her
mind."  He half-snorted.  "Perhaps you are meant for each other."

"Then tell her she shouldn't go to work," Nick retorted, glancing toward
his sire before returning his focus to Natalie and the rather visible
bite mark on her neck.

"Why would I do that?" LaCroix asked, smiling.  "I have no objections."

Natalie listened to the little exchange while she got her dinner.  She
sat down at the table while it heated, and saw Nick approach her again.
"Nick..."

"I'll drive you, at least.  And you can call me if you need to go
anywhere."

She wanted to tell him no, but she had to agree that she really
shouldn't drive.  At least not until she more adequately recovered from
her little brush near death.  She had to admit she was still quite tired
and felt rather drained--literally.  While Nick hadn't outright said
it--something seemed to be stopping him--she was positive he had nearly
killed her.  She knew he had given her the blood she had drawn earlier
for him.  Without that, she suspected she'd have woken as a vampire
today, rather than in another two days as originally planned.

"Nat?" Nick asked, taking one of her hands from the table and encasing
it in his.

She smiled at him.  "All right.  I'll take the offer."

"It's not an offer.  You really shouldn't--"

"I know," she said, nodding.  "And you're right."

Nick leaned forward and whispered, "Are you certain you feel up to
working tonight?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine.  Unless I get a call, about all I have is a
growing backlog of paperwork and a few tests to run."  She managed a
smile just as the microwave finished.  Nick hurried to get it for her,
and he finally left her for a few minutes while she ate.  After all, he
hadn't yet gotten ready for work himself.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"What is up with you tonight?" Schanke asked, watching his partner ball
up another form and toss it in the trash.  "You look...I'd say like
death warmed over, but I guess that's normal for you, so...not sure what
to call it."

Nick glanced up, glared across the desk, then started in on a fresh
form.

"Mr. Gloom-and-Doom didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"Why would you think that?" he asked, putting his pen down.

"I don't know, you just look...pale.  And something about him makes me
think he might use those little weapons on you."

He frowned--'little weapons'?--and slowly shook his head.  Not that
LaCroix hadn't ever done what his partner suggested, but what was
bothering him was what he himself had done with his own built-in
weapons.

Schanke watched his partner ignore him, then spotted Natalie coming up
from the front entrance.  "There you go, that should cheer you up."

"What should cheer me up?" he asked, glancing up.  He turned to see
where his partner was looking and, if possible, he went even paler.

"Natalie," he whispered once she had nearly reached him, and he stood
out of worry.  "What are you doing here?  I told you to call me if--"

"I'm fine, Nick," she said, cutting him off and grabbing his hand when
he reached toward her face.  Then, in a whisper, she added, "I gave
myself more blood after you dropped me off.  I'm almost back to normal
now."

Nick, however, was distracted by the wounds on her neck.  They looked
much worse in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the precinct, and he
wished she would take her hair out of the barrette.  It wouldn't
completely hide the bite wound, but he could feel other eyes fastened on
them.  Her wounds didn't need to be measured to guess the perpetrator.

"So, Natalie, what's the pleasure?"

"Oh, thought I'd come by and bug Nick here for a bit," she said offhand,
turning to Schanke.

His eyes went wide, spotting the rather visible wounds on Natalie's
neck.  Yet she appeared perfectly fine.  Radiant, even.

"Unless you two are busy?" she asked, glancing between the two.

"Ha!  Busy?  The only thing he's been doing is filling the trash bin.
Not even different forms; just the same one over and over and over."

Nick winced when Natalie peered into the garbage bin at the side of his
desk.  He *had* tossed out quite a few ruined forms.

"Gee, it's almost like he's worried about something.  Or *someone*,"
Schanke quipped, looking straight at Natalie.

"Well, that's a waste of time.  He should be able to tell there's
nothing to worry about," she answered in reply to Schanke's comment, but
her eyes stayed on Nick.  "Right?"

He looked her over, but could find very little wrong.  Her heart still
beat a bit awkwardly, and her blood didn't smell quite right, but
otherwise she appeared healthy.  Finally, he nodded.

"Good."

"Anything new over your way?" Schanke asked.

"Nope.  Quiet night."

"Probably waiting 'til the weekend to hit," Schanke mumbled and went
back to hunting for something.

Natalie tensed and she and Nick glanced at one another.  That was
exactly what both of them feared.  It'd hit right when or right after
she was brought across.  But as long as she wasn't called in on her
night off, she wouldn't worry too much.

Schanke stood up and grabbed some forms from his partner's desk, which
drew the attention of the other two.  "What?  These *were* my forms.  At
some point."

Nick grinned lopsidedly.  "I'll get some more."  It also gave him a
chance to move out from the middle of the bullpen.  Heading off, he
pulled out a dozen or so forms, only to have Natalie come up behind him
so close she bumped right into him.  "Nat--"

"Really, Nick, I'm fine."

"I'm not worried about--I'm more worried about Mills at the moment."

"Who?" she asked, completely caught off guard by that remark.

"Mills.  And here he comes again.  He's given me a crucifix the past two
nights, and I have a feeling tonight will be night number three."

"Hey, Knight, I thought I told you to--"

"Told him to what?" she challenged, pleased when the man halted his
tirade.

Mills' eyes locked onto Natalie's neck and he first went a bit green,
then seemed to turn pink from anger.  "Decide who needed more
protection.  Apparently, that's you."

Natalie set her jaw, then grabbed Nick's arm when he started to move
next to her, keeping herself in-between the two men.  She didn't want
him to make anything worse.  "Why do you think I need protection?"

"Natalie, don't--"

"Don't whisper instructions to her," Mills practically ordered.

"Nick can't manipulate my actions or words, Officer Mills," she huffed,
remembering the name Nick had said, and making a point by sharply
looking at the young man's nameplate.

"I'm not so sure of that," the officer said, glancing to the wounds on
Natalie's neck.  "Here."  He held out his hand to her.  "This might
help," he said, half-forcing the cross into her hand.

Nick took it almost immediately and moved out from behind Natalie.
"*Officer Mills?*" he intoned calmly, catching the other man's
attention.

"What?"

"*You might want to keep your gift.  Save your money.  Natalie does not
need your--nor anyone else's--protection.*"

"Keep...save...doesn't need..."

"*Hold out your hand,*" he continued, then once Mills had done so, he
deposited the crucifix into the upturned palm.  "*Now, go...and don't
try this again.*"

Mills walked off a bit disoriented, not even replying to the last set of
commands.

"You shouldn't have done that.  Not in the middle of the precinct."

"It's better than the alternative," he replied, his tone something
between a whisper and a growl.

Natalie didn't respond.  She knew Nick was growing tired of some of the
comments he was getting.  Considering that he had been burned moments
before, she didn't really blame him.  And she had a feeling she herself
might have a different opinion in a few days.

"Granted, I think I used a bit too much on him," he whispered, looking
at the officer standing across the room, who appeared to be trying to
remember what it was he was going to do.  "But at least he's not coming
back."

Natalie's attention caught on a pair of detectives glancing their way.
She wasn't sure if they were talking about what they had just seen--Nick
whammy Mills so hard he probably couldn't find his car if he tried--or
what they assumed because of the wounds on her neck.  "Should I ask what
the pool is now?  On me being a vampire?"

"Last I heard, it was up to three to one odds, but--"

"Anyone who read the memo way back should know from the barely healed
wound that I'm still mortal."

"Should," he repeated, glancing at her, holding up his new forms.
"Doesn't mean they believe it, though."

"How many of those are going to end up in the trash?" she asked, nodding
at the papers.

"Hopefully none.  It's tedious rewriting the same thing--"

"Half a dozen times?" Schanke gleefully chimed in.  "You think?  Pretty
tedious watching you do it, too."

Nick smiled at that.  He was actually right on that number with his
current attempt.  "I'll see you in an hour or so."

"I could pull up a chair and watch another one go up in flames," she
suggested, smiling back.

He didn't answer as he arrived back at his desk, Natalie following.

"And don't worry.  I'm being careful and won't leave the morgue again
tonight unless I have to.  Not that I'll be able to...I asked to borrow
one of the tech's cars, and they'll be going home soon, so...I'll kind
of need a ride home, actually."  She bent down and gave him a light kiss
on his cheek, then whispered, "I'll have lunch for you, too; and I'll
expect you there."

Nick was about to protest, but she had already straightened and turned,
heading for the door.

"So, Nick, did you..."  Schanke made hooks with his pointer and middle
finger of one hand and kinda scratched at the thin air.

Nick winced again, but answered in a whisper, "Yes," before trying to
return to his work...only to ruin another form almost immediately.

"She's still, you know--human, right?  Or did you--"

"Read that memo on vampires again, Skank," he said in a normal voice.
It didn't much matter who heard.  If nothing else, perhaps he'd not get
as many weird comments tonight.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (051/111)

"Are you certain?" Nick asked from where he sat next to Natalie on the
edge of his bed, holding her hands.

She glanced sideways to LaCroix, where he stood staring at her hungrily
from near the door.  Despite being slightly groggy from only getting a
few hours of sleep, she had a suspicion that if she changed her mind, he
would see to it that she followed through with her initial choice.  And
who knows, with vampires out in the open now, someone might discover a
cure.  That was assuming she didn't end up enjoying her new life as a
vampire.  Oddly, that thought didn't scare her as much as it would have
a few weeks or months before.  Even with all that had happened.

"Nat?"

She nodded, at which Nick kissed her on the temple and stood, moving out
of the way.  LaCroix fixed his gaze solidly on her and slowly
approached.  She swung her legs up onto the bed and moved over, then he
sat down roughly where she had been sitting.

"I believe I will actually enjoy this," he commented, reached a hand up
to Natalie's jaw, and smiled.

She tensed slightly when he moved closer to her.  For a moment, she
thought he was going to kiss her on the mouth, but at the last moment he
turned his attention to her throat.  In an instant, he struck, sinking
his fangs into her neck, not far from where Nick had bitten her not much
more than forty-eight hours before.  Out of reflex, she tried to pull
him closer.  She closed her eyes when she was carried away by a wave of
images like she had the last time Nick had taken her blood.  Most of the
images had something to do with Nick, of all people.  And it was Nick,
smiling darkly in some lost century, whom she last saw before finally
losing consciousness, her hands falling to the mattress as LaCroix
continued to take her blood.

Watching, Nick became anxious upon hearing Natalie's heart fumble after
his sire laid her gently back on the bed.  Watching someone being
brought across was far different than doing it oneself.  He still
worried something would somehow go wrong.

LaCroix picked up a knife his son had set out on the nightstand earlier
that day, but instead of slicing his wrist, he simply held it in his
hand.  He stared down at Natalie and touched the fresh wounds on her
neck, her heart fading to nothing.

Concerned about his sire's lack of action and Natalie's lack of life,
Nick walked forward and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing.  She fears I will let her die out of revenge," he said with a
smile and a glance toward his son.  Then he turned back, deftly sliced
his wrist, and finally let his precious blood trickle into her mouth to
renew her.

Nick waited, watching nervously as LaCroix pulled his hand back after a
couple of minutes and licked what blood clung to his wrist, then stood
and moved away.  Approaching, he knelt at the edge of the bed and gently
touched Natalie's hair, brushing it back from her face.

"She will be fine, Nicholas."

"Are you sure?" he asked, not turning away from her still form.  He
couldn't tell if it had worked or not.  To him, she seemed dead.  True,
that was somewhat normal, but his worst fear was to see her like this.

LaCroix quietly laughed.  "Of course I am sure.  I could taste it in her
blood.  She will come back to us."  With that, he turned and left the
room.

Nick glanced to the empty doorway, then he stood, walked around to the
end of the bed, and crawled up next to Natalie.  This was awful, not
knowing, not being able to tell.  He lay on his side and took her limp
hand in his.  Her skin was cooling, no longer hot like the sun.  Then,
abruptly, he noticed the wounds from two days before slowly healing.
The fresh wounds LaCroix had inflicted hadn't yet healed, but after a
few minutes, they also started to heal, and his eyes drifted to the door
where he found his sire holding a full bottle and a glass.  He was
somewhat taken aback--he had half-expected LaCroix to bring some poor
mortal here for her as he had with himself.

"Don't look so surprised.  Can you not believe I find it unwise to draw
unnecessary attention?"

"No, I can't," he whispered with another glance to LaCroix.

"This is not ideal...but it shall suffice for now."  He approached and
set the wine glass on the nightstand next to the blood-stained knife.
Next, he uncorked the bottle and filled the glass a bit over halfway.
"Would you like a taste?  It's quite fresh."

Nick's nostrils flared and his eyes shifted to the goblet the instant
LaCroix started pouring it.  He could smell how very fresh it was
without being told.  The blood had all come from the same person, for
one thing.  Either it was a repeat donor, or the mortal had very
possibly paid with his life.  He highly suspected the latter, judging by
the strength of the scent.  Quite fresh, indeed.

"No?"

Nick managed to tear his eyes away at the question, but despite turning
away, he could see the other man reach down for the glass and take a
small sip, savouring the rich flavour.  He almost would have preferred
LaCroix bring live prey.  At least Natalie would then know, with
certainty, the source of her first meal.

Suddenly Natalie's lips parted.  She breathed in, then her eyes opened.
Nick leaned forward and gave her another kiss on her temple, pleased and
relieved that she had finally returned to him.

"Nick?" she whispered when she felt oddly warm lips on her forehead, and
a warm hand surrounding one of hers.  She tried to sit up, but couldn't.
She felt a horrible pain in her upper jaw, and realised her new fangs
had descended.  Her vision became tinted faintly red with Nick's form,
and she felt terrible pain in her stomach.  Pain and raging hunger, and
she tried again to sit up.

Nick moved back as she pushed against him, disoriented.  "Natalie, it's
all right," he reassured her, then moved behind her and snaked his arms
around her.

"I'm--" she whispered, stopping her thought before she voiced it.

"I know.  It'll be okay," he softly said into her ear, then glanced up
at LaCroix, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed with the glass in
his hands.

Natalie reached for the glass of blood greedily, but found LaCroix
wouldn't release his hold on the fragile container.  She let him
continue holding it as she tipped the liquid into her mouth.  Exactly
like when Nick and LaCroix had taken her blood, taken more than a mere
sip, she saw images from the blood.  It tasted terrifyingly pleasant,
and she drained the contents in seconds.  He refilled it for her, and
she drank two more half-filled glasses before her hunger pains subsided
enough that she no longer feared she would rip the bottle from his
hands.

LaCroix smiled again, reached out to touch Natalie's face, and turned
her gaze toward him.  "How do you feel?"

Her gaze shifted, and all she could think about were the vibrant,
life-filled sensations assailing every aspect of her being.  Her clothes
felt slightly prickly, as if she could feel every stray fibre.  Now she
fully understood Nick's often expensive taste in fabrics.  His smooth
skin against hers felt so very warm, and despite his light touch, the
sensation was magnified.  Everything seemed amplified.  His breath,
previously cool, was now warm against her cheek and his touch ignited
her more primal desires.  Was this how hard it had been for him to be
around her?  Or even harder, since she would have been so much warmer to
the touch than he now felt to her?  And then there was LaCroix.  She
could almost feel his presence.  It was so very strange, but it felt so
right.

"Natalie?" Nick whispered, turning his face into hers and pulling her
closer, worried at her lack of response.

She closed her eyes and smiled, relaxing into the touch.  Nick kissed
her cheek again, then her jaw, at which she tensed.  Her eyes snapped
open and she found another glass offered to her, this one full, which
she took and quickly emptied.  After drinking the majority of yet
another glass after that, her vision finally calmed and returned to
normal.  Slightly crisper and clearer, but it was no longer strangely
tinted.  She handed the partly full glass back.

LaCroix drank the couple of remaining mouthfuls, then set it and the
nearly empty bottle on the nightstand.  With a grin, he merely said,
"Rest a little.  Or not," stood, and left.

Nick closed his eyes and pulled Natalie tighter, surprised LaCroix had
left them alone.  Not that he was ever truly alone; and now neither
would Natalie.

After being held for several minutes, she finally asked, "What time is
it?" wondering if there was really that much of the day left.

"About three-thirty."

"What did he mean, 'rest, or not'?"

The corner of his mouth twitched up.  "Rest, or..."  He hungrily kissed
Natalie's neck, letting his fangs nip her skin.  "Not."

She let her neck stretch back and had a feeling they wouldn't be getting
much sleep.  Not right away, anyway, not as she felt her own fangs come
down again and her thoughts turn to Nick's blood only partly of her own
will.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

To say that Natalie had been startled awake when Nick's alarm went off
would be a severe understatement.  The harsh sounds were sheer torture
to her newly sensitive ears.  How he could sometimes sleep through it,
she now couldn't begin to comprehend.

Once she had determined that the obnoxious, blaring device wasn't trying
to kill her, she realised neither of them were in any way clothed and
the sheets barely came up to her waist.  She blushed, but had a feeling
it was more an emotion now rather than a physical reaction.  She pulled
the comforter up before reaching over to the alarm to shut it off with a
bit more force than had absolutely been necessary.  Once the noise had
ceased, she felt Nick pull her back against him and trail kisses along
her shoulder.  She smiled, not able to help the reaction.  She had
wanted to experience something as simple as this for so long.

She had only been a vampire a few hours, but she had a feeling she had
already experienced one of the best parts of being a vampire.  She
couldn't imagine how feeding from a mortal could possibly compare to
when she had fed from Nick as he had from her, with their bodies
intimately entwined.  It had been pure ecstasy.  But even if it was half
as good, she had a new respect for him, both for managing to not kill
her, and also that he hadn't gone to Janette or LaCroix more often than
she had suspected he had.

She tried pulling away from Nick, spying a shirt at the end of the
bed--she wasn't sure if it was hers or his--but was pulled back again
before she managed to snatch it up.

He held Natalie tighter, whispering, "Trying to escape?"

"Hmm," she answered, still having trouble fighting against turning and
taking him again.  But he had to go to work, and she already felt hunger
pangs deep within her.  Earlier they'd finished the bottle on the
nightstand, which meant she would have to go downstairs for more.  "You
need to get ready for work."

"I can be late," he whispered and kissed Natalie again under her ear.

She closed her eyes, then tensed when he kissed a rather sensitive spot,
at which she breathed, "Unless you want to be pinned down and drained
dry, you better let go."

"That's fine with me," he whispered, kissing and nibbling her neck
again.

"Please, Nick.  Not right now.  I'm serious," she pleaded, wishing he'd
let go of her.  She didn't particularly want to find out just how
vicious a vampire--particularly she herself--could be.  She already had
a taste of her new-found strength, and she also knew he wouldn't stop
her.

Nick loosened his grip, watched her lean forward to get his shirt and
slip it on, then she got out of the bed.  "Nat?  Are you okay?" he
asked, concerned.

"I think I'm...hungry," she whispered back, avoiding his gaze, instead
focusing on finding and putting on the rest of her clothes.

His concern faded at that, but his mood darkened.  "I'm sorry," he
muttered, closing his eyes.

Natalie turned to him at that, and saw his anguish.  She approached,
crawling back on the bed long enough to kiss him, whispering, "It's all
right, Nick," before she again pulled back.  "Besides, I suspect you
could use something yourself.  It is your usual meal time, after all."
She waited until she got a slight nod, then left, slowly walking
downstairs.  Only she didn't exactly walk there.  From the top of the
steps to the bottom she just sort of...ended up there, and found herself
slightly disoriented.

"Sleep well?"

She turned at the voice.  LaCroix was there, grinning, behind her.  He
had to know she hadn't slept much at all--his tone and smile told her
that.

"A bit forceful, were you not?"

She felt horrible at this comment.  He knew exactly how little sleep
they had gotten.  She turned away from him and made a bee line for the
refrigerator...only for him to appear in front of her, blocking her way.

"You must learn your limits.  And quickly."

Hungry, she saw LaCroix flash red for a second in her sight, and she saw
his amusement abruptly vanish.  She reached forward to push him out of
the way, but instead she gasped when he seized her upper arms and spun
her around.  She tried to fight back, but was helpless against his far
greater strength, and he shoved her toward the kitchen table more
forcefully than she thought possible.  She might as well have still been
mortal.

LaCroix pulled out a chair and forced his daughter down onto it before
returning to the refrigerator to get a bottle, then pulled out another
glass from the cupboards.  He placed the latter in front of Natalie and
filled it.

She took the glass immediately and drank from it, only to be slightly
surprised.  The cold liquid didn't compare to the blood she had drunk
earlier that day; it was like water to wine.  Which, come to think of
it, the other blood hadn't actually been cold, but room temperature.
This time she also felt a jumble of emotions and thoughts and flavours,
rather than a single, powerful one.  Regardless, it diminished her sharp
hunger, and she finished the glass with small sips.

Nick wasted no time in getting ready for work.  By the time he arrived
downstairs, Natalie's glass was empty, and LaCroix was standing
awkwardly, leaning against the kitchen counter watching her.

"Natalie?"

Turning at the voice, she smiled at Nick.  He was nearly dressed,
buttoning the cuffs on his shirt as he walked toward her.  At that, she
glanced down at her own clothes.  She would certainly have to get
dressed, too.  She stood and headed for the bathroom to do so, avoiding
both of their gazes--Nick seemed rather concerned, while LaCroix
appeared appallingly amused.

"What do you have planned for her tonight?" Nick asked in a whisper,
continuing cautiously closer.  His sire straightened and stepped toward
him, grinning.  He had hoped not to work tonight, but since he had to,
Natalie would be stuck alone with LaCroix.

"What do you think I have planned?"

"I can think of a good half a dozen things.  Remember that she plans to
go to work tomorrow night.  She must--"

"I suspect we will be at the Raven most of the night.  That should be
adequate to prepare her.  Plenty of mortals and blood to tempt--and
delight--her new senses."

"And if not there?"

"I'm certain you can find us."  LaCroix smirked and walked closer so
that he could whisper in the younger man's ear, "I know you can...when
you wish to do so."

"Do not teach her to hunt."

"I will teach her whatever I wish and in whichever manner I choose!"
LaCroix yelled, stepped behind his son, and pulled the younger man back
by the shoulder.  "She is my child, Nicholas.  Mine!  Do not forget
that."  He roughly released the younger man and walked away.

Nick closed his eyes at the almost violent reminder.  Natalie was
LaCroix'...not his.  That thought made him somewhat ill, but he had to
admit that LaCroix would teach her self-control better than he himself
could, assuming she could learn it.

He got his breakfast--more from the bottle Natalie had drank from.  He
even used the same glass, seeing no point in dirtying another, then sat
on the sofa and waited.

It took Natalie quite some time to take a shower and get dressed.  Nick
had a feeling she had picked one outfit and then decided on something
else--probably after considering LaCroix' comment about likely being at
the Raven most of the night.  Most of Natalie's clothes would stand out
in the club.

Hearing light steps approach him, he smiled and turned his head as she
sat down next to him.  She looked a bit pale--not from her new nature,
but from something else.  "What's wrong?"

Natalie leaned next to him, letting him hold her.  She had heard
everything, including his half-order about hunting, which was quickly
countered.  She feared LaCroix would do exactly that...simply because
Nick had brought it up.  "I don't want him to force me to kill someone."

He held her tighter and kissed her on the forehead.  There was nothing
he could really tell her.  If LaCroix wanted her to do so, planned for
it, she would have to kill, whether she wanted to or not.  "Do what he
tells you," he whispered, closing his eyes.  "Object or ask questions if
you want, but be aware that he may force it if you are outright
unwilling.  It's easier if you--"  He stopped for a moment, then added,
"Whether he tries to get you to kill someone tonight or not, you should
know that eventually it will happen.  You *will* kill."

Natalie considered, then thought about the differences in the taste of
blood between what she had received initially and what she had drunk a
few minutes ago.  "Nick, did someone die for what he gave me this
afternoon?"

"I don't know," he admitted.  "You'd have to ask LaCroix.  But if
someone did, it may not have been unwilling," he added, although he
didn't believe it himself.  With LaCroix, he knew if he had been at all
involved, it was unlikely the donor had been even slightly willing.  He
hoped LaCroix would at least make sure any kills were safely hidden.
Relaxing his hold somewhat, he asked, "Do you want me to tell Cohen
tonight?"

Natalie sat up again and looked at Nick, considering.  It would be
easier, but she shook her head.  She didn't want the others to have any
warning.  Let them be the ones blindsided, for a change.  "Ah, no," she
finally said.  "First thing tomorrow night, if that's okay with you?"

He nodded at the suggestion.  It was probably best that way, anyway.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (052/111)

"So, how's Natalie?" Schanke whispered across the desks to his partner.

"I'm not a weather aerial."

"Yeah, but, I mean--"

"I already said that I really don't know," he said, frustrated.  He
wished he could give Schanke a better answer.  He wished he could give
himself one.  He could only sense LaCroix' mood at times, specifically
when he wanted him to, and right now his sire was pleased about
something.  Utterly pleased.  That unnerved him to no end.  He also
didn't know how Natalie would cope around mortals...or blood.  And the
Raven had an ample amount of both.

"So, you gonna check on her later?"

He didn't answer.  Yes, he had already decided to do that, even before
he left for work, even before Natalie had been brought across.  He knew
LaCroix would dislike it if he tried to influence her in any way, yet he
also wanted to help her, even if that meant assisting her with accepting
what she now was.

"If you don't, I'm gonna shove a souvlaki down your throat.  With extra
garlic!"

Nick glared at his partner at the threat.

"Come on, Knight!  You're even more spaced-out than usual."

Finally, he made an attempt to shrug his thoughts off, and nodded to his
partner.  "I know.  It'll be better once things settle again."

"Which won't be for long."  Schanke lowered his voice even further,
figuring his partner would be able to hear just fine, "You know what's
gonna happen when *this* hits."

He tensed, but nodded again, this time more solemnly.  "I know,
Schanke."

"Even though people have already been thinking she is or will be one of
you for weeks, this is still gonna be a shock to a lot of people.  A big
shock."

Nick closed his eyes at that.  It *would* be a big shock...and yet it
also wouldn't.  He was at least thankful when Schanke picked up the
phone, apparently to call Myra.  He half-wished they'd get a new case, a
new case with a normal murder that wasn't so obvious who--or what--the
killer was, so he could focus on that.

But then that would mean Natalie would be called in.  He had given
LaCroix instructions to call him if that happened, but so far, it looked
like she was going to be lucky and have the whole night off.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

When Schanke went to lunch, Nick immediately homed in on LaCroix'
location--the Raven.  He relaxed slightly and flew to the club, landing
in the alley out of sight.  He glanced at those who still seemed to mill
across the street, but as usual, they mostly stayed back.  They were
more annoying than actually troublesome.

Entering the club, he quickly found LaCroix, alone at the bar.  Where
was Natalie?  He didn't see her in a quick scan of the club, and there
were too many vampires to easily pick her out.  Crossing to his sire, he
asked, "Where is she?"

"Good of you to join us, Nicholas."

"Where is she, LaCroix?" he asked again.

"Corner booth."  When his son turned to go to her, LaCroix snapped a
hand out, seizing the younger man's shoulder.  "She is rather...on edge.
Ensure that she does not kill anyone...unless you wish to explain the
bloody club floor to your captain and co-workers."

Nick closed his eyes tight for a moment, then his gaze found Natalie.
She was staring at a half-empty glass of blood on the table in front of
her.

LaCroix pulled his son closer and whispered, "I have to say...she is
even more exquisite now that she is one of us.  She's been drawing quite
a bit of attention from the other patrons--mortal and vampire alike."

Nick agreed, although he kept his opinion to himself.  Something had
subtly changed in her; something that drew him and everyone else
inexorably toward her, like a moth to a flame.  Perhaps it was her
clothes?  She was wearing something less formal and a bit unusual--a
sleeveless blouse and a long skirt, both darker colours, but neither
black.  Shrugging out of LaCroix' grasp, he crossed the club floor and
quietly slipped into the seat across from her.

Natalie jumped at Nick's abrupt arrival, her eyes flashing gold for a
moment before she recognised him.  "Oh, good, it's you.  At first I
thought...never mind," and one of her hands snatched one of his, pulling
it closer.  "Please tell me that crime scenes are easier than all of
this."

"Overall they're probably easier, but..."  He bowed his head slightly.
"Natalie, I'm not going to lie to you.  Freshly spilt blood is far more
tempting than the blood in glasses here, or even the mortals who will
throw themselves at you."

She glanced back down at the table.  She had already experienced that
last.  It had been so hard not to bite them, drain them dry where they
stood out in the open, that she started to fear going to work.  It
wasn't only the corpses with their fresh blood that scared her a little,
but her co-workers.  She could hear and practically feel the mortals'
hearts beating along, calling to her, excited and happy and wanting--she
shook the thought off before she stood and moved toward any of them,
then breathed, "What about...the people?"

"It's different than this...but fear or anger can be as tempting as
these revellers.  I'm sure you've seen me react a bit more strongly than
I should."

"And that's with nearly eight centuries of practice," she whispered
glumly, not looking up at him.

"Less than that.  It is easier when you're around it more.  Or it was
for me; I'm sure it'll be easier for you once you've worked for a few
days or weeks."

"And you're going to come to work with me tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah.  And whenever I'm not at the precinct and you need me to be
there.  Even when I should be at the precinct, if I can manage it.
Might be able to talk Cohen into letting me work there when Schanke and
I aren't working a case."

"Yeah, and with my luck, you'll probably have a case just when I need
you the most.  You and Schanke always manage to get the...well, the
worst ones.  Or you'll get something new when someone else has an
equally bad one.  Bad as in *bloody*."

He squeezed Natalie's hand, and gently brought it up to his lips to kiss
the back of it.  When he saw her gaze tilt up at him, he told her, "I'm
sure you can make it through this.  I have faith in you, Nat."

"But I know you've lost control before, right?  You've--"  She
hesitated, then asked, "You've killed someone without meaning to?
Without intending to...without planning it in some way?"

He nodded in reply.  "Don't worry.  As long as I'm with you, I'll do
what I can to keep you from harming anyone.  I promise you that."

She tried to smile at that, but she knew he wouldn't always be there.
Knowing that he would try did make her feel better, though, and for a
moment, all she saw or felt was Nick.  The rest of the club ceased to
exist.  Only LaCroix remained in her peripheral senses.

Releasing Natalie's hand, he picked up her glass and drained it, hoping
it would calm him, then he refilled the glass and set it back in front
of her.

"So, has Schanke asked how I am yet?"

"Only about half a dozen times," he replied with a faint smile.  "He
keeps commenting on how preoccupied I am."

"Hmm, and what exactly are you preoccupied with?"

Nick smiled at the question, and again took Natalie's hand and kissed
the back of it, then her fingers, her palm, and finally the underside of
her wrist.

She gasped as he kissed the thin skin, half expecting him to bite into
it.  But he didn't.  Instead, he kissed the back of her hand again, then
he smiled at her, still holding her fingers.  This was not helping her
relax.  That was why she was sitting here--to regain her focus.  He had
managed to get her focused, all right.  Too focused.  Entirely on him.
"Nick..."

"Hmm?"  He was so enraptured by Natalie that he started and her fingers
slipped from his grasp when an empty glass was set in front of him.

"You are distracting your new sister."  LaCroix smirked and took the
bottle from the table and held it in front of him for a moment, his
attention switching to the liquid inside before filling the glass,
showing far more enthusiasm in that simple action than usual.

Nick's eyes snapped up at his sire, who he watched through a golden
haze.

"Now, now, Nicholas.  Who is more overly-focused now?"

Natalie tensed at this, certain that LaCroix had picked up on the
thought from her.  He must have.  Especially as he stared down on her,
still smiling that quirky smile of his.

"Who is dreaming?"  LaCroix then turned his attention to his son.  "A
dream--"

"Leave the quotations for your broadcast," he snapped, causing LaCroix
to stop after only a couple of words.  He picked up his glass and
drained nearly half of it in mere seconds.

LaCroix wasn't the slightest put off, and he left, still grinning, quite
amused by the entertainment his children were so thoughtfully providing.

"Is he always so--"

"Insightful?" he suggested.

"Annoying.  It's like he can tell what I'm thinking."  Not wanting to
discuss her new parental figure, she asked, "So, you staying?"

"Until I need to go back to the precinct."  Nick dropped his gaze to the
table.  "How are you doing with all of this?  And what do you want me to
tell Schanke?"

She swallowed out of reflex.  "It's--it's a bit different than I'd
thought it would be."  Seeing him pull his hand back off the table, she
clarified, "Not bad different; just...different.  And tell Schanke I am
doing fine."

He leaned forward a bit and asked, "But are you?  Really?  Doing fine,
that is."

"So far, yes.  I think so."  She shrugged, shaking her head a little.
"I think it's too soon to really have an accurate opinion, though."

Nodding at that, he froze.  "And LaCroix, he hasn't--he's treated you
all right?"

She saw his concern and she nodded.  "I know he has something planned
for after the club closes, though."

Nick's gaze drifted as he thought.  What lesson did LaCroix have
planned?

"So, what was that little comment about dreams?" she prodded.  "The
quote you cut off.  Who was that for?"

"I'm not sure."  His lips twitched up into a half smile.  "Probably me,
but possibly both of us."  He shook his head and reclaimed Natalie's
hand, his eyes drifting to it as he traced his thumb down her fingers.
Abruptly stopping, he pulled his hand back.  "I'm sorry; I'm probably
distracting you, like he said."

"Hmm," she thought, returning his mischievous smile.  "I don't mind.
Besides, I think you might be the more distracted of us.  When do you
need to head back to the precinct?"

"In about twenty minutes," he answered, not looking at his watch.  He
picked up his glass again and drained the rest of it, then picked the
bottle up off the table and refilled it.

"Well, at least you can tell Schanke you had a hearty lunch tonight."

He had taken another sip, only to nearly spit it out at Natalie's
comment.  Forcing himself to swallow and not laugh, he told her rather
seriously, "I am not telling him that!  He'll probably think--"

"He'd think you took *my* blood and not...well, not the
stopped-some-poor-mortal's-heart kind of hearty."

He shook his head again at that, his gaze again flitting away from
Natalie, only to be drawn back to her in seconds.

"So," she started and took his hand back in hers, tugging it a bit
closer and getting his attention fully back on her.  Then she smiled
somewhat deviously.  "When are you going to have your *real* lunch?
Now?"

Nick didn't have to think what she meant.  Her smile told him that, and
his eyes ever so slightly shifted to a soft gold.  "Yes, now."  Shifting
his hand to grab hers in his, he stood and pulled her toward the back of
the club, only to stop upon seeing black plastic blocking the way.
LaCroix was having some sort of remodelling done in the back of the
club.  Immediately he changed directions and went to the door to the
apartment, pulling Natalie along with him.

Once upstairs, she felt nervous.  This was clearly now LaCroix' home.
Even if he was still staying at the loft, he had taken over the rooms
for himself.  Abruptly Nick kissed her, and she could no longer resist.
After all, LaCroix *wasn't* living there, and he hadn't exactly seemed
displeased at Nick's attention to her--or her being a bit distracted by
him.  And she wanted him so much they could be at the morgue with an
unlocked door and a corpse midway through autopsy and she didn't think
she'd care.

Nick wasn't much better off, and he pushed Natalie up against the wall
next to the entrance into the bedroom.  His kisses moved from her lips
to her neck, and one of his hands grabbed at her skirt, pulling the
fabric upward.  Then, as he kissed her on the lips again, he felt
someone behind him and warm air against his neck.  He stiffened a
split-second before powerful hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him
back and away from Natalie.

Surprised when he pulled away, she initially clutched at Nick, then
opened her eyes to find LaCroix standing there, leaning over his
shoulder, clearly fuming.

"Shouldn't you be returning to work, Nicholas?"

He closed his eyes, trying to regain his concentration, even as he felt
his sire's lips practically brush against his ear.  In his current
state, that simple action was almost more arousing than Natalie's needy
form before him.

"You have all eternity to satiate your lust," LaCroix whispered.
"Surely you can wait a few more hours.  Now...leave."

Nick swayed for a few seconds after LaCroix released him, then backed
away.  Opening his eyes, he found Natalie standing there, yellow-eyed,
tense with desire and fear.  He didn't want to leave her like this,
knowing what she would require.  He moved forward to comfort her, to
give her a kiss on her temple and a chance for her to feed from him, but
LaCroix stopped him, grabbing his arm.

"Now, Nicholas.  While I commend your initiative, tonight is my time
with my newest child.  You are far too much of a distraction.  Leave."

Nick managed a slight nod, his eyes remaining locked on Natalie.
Momentarily he backed away, his thoughts now turning back to the glasses
and bottle of blood on the table in the club.  He would have to drink
more before returning to the precinct, even though it wasn't what he
really wanted or needed.  With a last glance toward Natalie, he slipped
backward out the door and left.

Natalie now started to back along the wall, but found the only place she
could go was into the bedroom.  She stepped back, only to wince when
LaCroix grabbed her arm.  She felt angry and pulled away from him.
Surprisingly, she succeeded, only to nearly lose her balance in the
process.  It didn't help her feelings of anger one bit, but then she
realised she wasn't truly angry.  She wanted to sink her teeth into
anything living and kill it, take it, possess it and its blood.  This
didn't have anything to do with LaCroix--it was Nick.  But LaCroix was
the only thing remotely living near her, and she fought between going
for his flawless, white neck and backing away--only there was nowhere to
go.

"Do not fight your instincts," he calmly said with a faint smile.  Much
of his earlier anger had dissipated.  He hadn't wanted her excited like
this, not to this level, but perhaps this would be better.  A first
step.  "Go ahead, my child.  Take what you desire.  What you need..."

She barely hesitated before she flew the short distance separating them
and practically wrenched LaCroix' neck down and sank her already
descended fangs into his flesh.  It was so easy to take his blood, his
essence.  Then, after what felt like seconds, she realised what she had
done.  Upon tasting his pleasure at her action, she released him, then
again backed away, this time wiping her mouth on the back of her bare
hand.  Seeing blood there, she had a hard time preventing herself from
licking it away.  Her instincts had taken over.  And they were still
there, calling to her.  She forced herself to ignore the blood and focus
on LaCroix instead.  Why did he have to grin like that?  But she didn't
look away.  She refused to.

"Clean up and return to the club," he said, glancing to her
blood-streaked hand.  He pulled out a black handkerchief and wiped the
excess blood off his neck.  Not that there was much there; she would
have drained him dry, if he had been mortal.  She was a natural.  With
another faint grin, he turned and left.

Natalie closed her eyes at his quick departure.  With him gone, the
blood on her hand was even more inviting, and she quickly found the
bathroom and rinsed her hand off.  She could still smell LaCroix' blood
there, despite that she couldn't see it.  Zoning in on the soap
dispenser, she pumped it several times on the back of her hand, smearing
the area with antibacterial soap and again rinsing her hands off.
Better, but she could still faintly smell his blood.  At least the soap
didn't smell much at all.

That was one thing that was definitely going to take some getting used
to--her new, ultra-sensitive, senses.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (053/111)

Only a couple of hours later, Natalie was once more confronted with
LaCroix, although this time he wasn't being silent or guiding or
accommodating, but commanding.  He wanted her to kill someone.  He had
taken her far from the Raven and had chosen an isolated homeless man to
be her first victim.

Even from where she stood on a nearby roof top, she could tell the man
was extremely sick.  He was ill--he had bronchitis, pneumonia, the flu,
or something of the sort--and had a bad limp.  It didn't make her feel
any better, and all she could do was shake her head, even as she smelled
the man's blood and heard the throb of his slightly irregular heartbeat
luring her toward him.

"Do it!  Swoop down and end his misery!" LaCroix demanded.  This was now
the third time he had ordered her to kill the pathetic mortal, but she
adamantly refused to move.  Having had enough, he seized her arm and
pulled her toward the edge of the roof, forcing her to follow him to the
ground.  They were now within metres of the mortal, and he whispered,
"Kill him.  Now!"

"No, I won't--"  LaCroix jerked her arm, pulling her forcibly toward the
man.  He, at least, seemed oblivious to his imminent demise.  "No," she
said more firmly, struggling to pull away.  Still the man didn't notice
them, not even as her shoes slid on the bits of gravel in the alley.
She would not let him force her to kill someone, and certainly not
tonight.  "Let go of me," she demanded, and tried to pull out of his
grasp again without success.

"No," LaCroix replied, gripping her even tighter and pulling her another
few steps toward the still oblivious mortal.  "Do it.  Now.  End his
life quickly.  You'll be doing him a favour."

She shook her head again, but he pulled her ever closer to the man.
Panicking, she acted on instinct.  LaCroix was vastly stronger than her
and she was no match for him, but she knew more ways to inflict pain and
kill than most vampires probably did.

Rather easily, she pried his two outer fingers away from her arm.  Then,
with her new extra strength, she grabbed hold of the relatively thin
bones with their weak muscles and broke his fingers with barely a
thought.  His grip loosened, and she took off, leaving him in the alley.

LaCroix clenched his jaw against the neither serious nor minor injuries
she had inflicted upon him.  The action hadn't been enough to prevent
him from exclaiming at the sudden and unexpected pain, however, and the
mortal had finally turned and saw him.  And recognised him, by the look
of abject terror in his eyes.  Half forgetting about the pain in his
hand, he flew forward and drained the man, taking care of both what the
mortal had seen and speeding the healing of his own injuries.

He nearly left the wounds on his victim, but reluctantly he fumbled in
the man's filthy pockets and found a pocket knife.  He sliced the man's
neck savagely where he had bitten, completely destroying the damaged
flesh with several slices.  Letting the knife drop to the ground next to
the body, he smiled.  No doubt Natalie would be presented with this man
the following night.  A gift.  A reminder.  And, most of all, a
*lesson*.

Frustrated, he headed to his son's work.  Natalie had gone to the loft
and was quite distraught.  He didn't quite understand her reluctance,
however.  It was not guilt stopping her, but something else.  Arriving
outside the precinct, he closed his eyes and whispered his son's name.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Inside the precinct several minutes later, Nick stopped poking his
keyboard and lowered his head onto his propped-up hands.

"What's wrong?" his partner asked.

He glanced up, and was about to tell Schanke he didn't know, when he saw
Cohen approaching.  "Captain?"

"Knight, find out what he wants and get him out of here," she told him,
nodding toward the front desk.  "*Now*."

Nick was about to ask who when he turned to see who Cohen was talking
about.  There at the front desk, stood LaCroix, a lone officer standing
as far away from him as possible.  Everyone else had cleared out of the
immediate area.  He winced.  No wonder his head was pounding and he had
the nagging thought that he had heard LaCroix calling his name a few
minutes ago.  His sire had probably done exactly that.

Standing, he absently told Cohen, "I'll get rid of him," before going
over to and past LaCroix, then heading outside, knowing his sire would
follow.  Sure enough, he did, and he walked along the side of the
building before finally turning and asking, once sure they were out of
earshot or sight of anyone, "What are you here for now?  You were so
concerned about spending time with Natalie tonight that--"

"The impudent child disobeyed my explicit instructions.  She refused to
kill a mortal, then broke my fingers to get away."

"And?" Nick asked, both pleased and concerned that Natalie had hurt
their sire.  "If you want me to feel sorry for you--"

"Find out what her issue is!" LaCroix half snapped in a harsh whisper.
He took a deep breath to calm himself, then informed his son, "She must
drain a mortal at least once."  Looking away, his voice became even
calmer, almost amused sounding.  "For now, she is at your loft.  I shall
not be returning there this morning.  Enjoy."  With that, he took off,
straight up.

Nick closed his eyes for a moment, then started back inside, his
thoughts a jumbled mess.  He had worried that LaCroix might try to force
Natalie to kill, and apparently the experience hadn't gone well for
either of them.  And, again, he was both pleased and concerned about
what she had done.  Sure, he himself had broken a few of LaCroix' bones
before, but not within his first day as a vampire.  He was thankful for
whatever reason LaCroix had decided to come to him, rather than take his
anger out on Natalie.

Entering the precinct and approaching his desk, Nick noticed large
numbers of eyes focused on him once again.  He was still angry with
LaCroix for coming there, especially for actually coming inside this
time, and he knew it showed.

"Knight?" Cohen asked.

"He's gone," he said, purposely avoiding her gaze on his way back to his
desk.  He immediately reached for his phone and dialled his home number.
It rang several times, and he almost hung up before it was answered.
"Natalie?"

"Nick?" she answered, her voice quavering slightly.

He glanced to where Cohen had been standing, pleased to see that she had
left and no one besides Schanke was in earshot, and he quietly asked,
"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"He came here, inside the station this time."

"He, ah, tell you what happened?"

"Vaguely.  He's a bit--are you sure you're okay?  Do you want me to see
if I can--"

"Don't worry, Nick.  Really, I'm fine," she evenly answered.  "And I
don't want you missing work.  He's not here right now, and I take it
he's not coming over?"

He thought about that.  "No, probably not, considering that he came here
first.  He also said not to expect him there today."  He took in a slow,
deep breath.  "If he does come by...then leave the instant you see or
sense him and come here.  Or at least don't break any more of his
fingers."  The last he said in a whisper, not wanting even Schanke to
overhear that.  "Are you sure you'll be okay until I'm off?"

"Don't worry.  Like I said, I'll be fine," she repeated.  "Although I
can't guarantee not to break any more of his fingers.  If he drags me
like that again, I'm certainly not staying.  So, what did he tell you?"

"Not much, but he wants to know why you...refused.  But we can--"

"Because I don't want to--" she started, but didn't voice the rest; she
didn't want to think about killing.  "Tomorrow night is going to be hard
enough; I didn't want to add to it."

"We'll talk when I get home, okay?"

"Yeah," she answered, nodding to herself.  "And remember, don't tell
Cohen yet."

"I won't," he answered, then he heard Natalie hang up, which caught him
slightly off guard.  Putting his own phone down, he noticed Schanke was
staring at him, concerned.  Cohen had long returned to her office, and
the precinct had mostly returned to normal, although he could hear a few
whispered questions concerning why LaCroix had wanted to talk to
him--specifically, why the other vampire needed to talk to him in
person.

"So, are you ever going to say what's wrong?" Schanke asked again.

He winced and looked down at his desk.  "Not here, Schanke."

Disappointed, Schanke reluctantly went back to work.

So did Nick.  His thoughts were stuck on Natalie and trying to figure
out exactly what LaCroix had tried to force her to do, and who he had
tried to get her to kill.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"He expects you to do it at least once; he won't let it go until you
do," Nick said as he and Natalie sat together on the couch, her leaning
up against him.

The moment he had arrived home, she had explained her issues with
LaCroix' 'request'.  First was that it was simply too soon, given that
she would likely be presented with her own victim at the morgue within a
few days, if not hours, of the event.  Then there was the issue of
killing someone randomly--specifically if they didn't know what was
coming, beyond their own untimely death.  While waiting for Nick to come
home, she had concluded that if her victim was expecting death, perhaps
even wanted it, she could manage it.  Maybe.  If Nick was there.

"Nat?"

"Would you--"  She hesitated, wondering what he would think of her
request.  "I want you to be there whenever I, ah, kill someone."

Nick stiffened and closed his eyes.  It was the last thing he wanted to
do.  He knew from experience that even watching another vampire kill
could be quite enticing.  It could make him want to kill again himself.

"If he'll let you, anyway."  Natalie leaned her head back further.  When
he still didn't say anything in reply, she straightened and turned
slightly toward him.  "Nick?"

"Sorry, just thinking."  He managed a smile.  "And, I will, of course.
Even if he doesn't let me, I'll try to at least be nearby, as long as I
know where you are."

She turned directly toward him, realising, "You can't track me like he
can, can you?"

"No," he whispered in reply.  "Perhaps with time, but no, I wouldn't be
able to find you anywhere in the city like he now can."  His mood
darkened slightly.  "I gave him entirely too much practice at that."

"Do you think he'll let you?"

"Probably," he immediately answered, although, truth be told, he wasn't
entirely sure.  He sat up and leaned toward the table, where he had set
a bottle and two glasses.  He filled the second glass after a moment of
hesitation, then set the bottle back down and picked up both glasses.
He turned and handed one to Natalie.

Taking the offered glass, she found herself once again pulled next to
Nick.  It was odd, but after she had escaped from LaCroix' little
lesson, she hadn't been even slightly hungry.  She had a feeling the man
had still died.  She had asked Nick if he knew whether or not LaCroix
had killed him, but he didn't know for sure.  But, like her, he
suspected he had.  She started to lean forward and put the glass of
blood down untouched, but he stopped her, clutching her waist and
whispering her name.

"Nat, you need to drink it.  You said you hadn't had anything since
returning here."

She closed her eyes and let him pull her back again.  "I'm really not
hungry right now.  At all."

"Genuinely not hungry, or afraid tasting the blood will make you think
about him wanting you to kill?"

She nearly told him the first, but then shook her head.  "I don't know.
I admit I feel a bit queasy thinking about that."

"One of the few feelings that dulls the hunger.  Trust me; you'll want
it later, and the blood is more likely to make you feel better overall,
even if it does stir up some unwanted thoughts at first."

Considering this, she gave in and took a sip.  Indeed, the first thing
that flashed in her mind was an imagined scene of LaCroix killing the
man in the alley.  After a second sip, she felt oddly calmer, and, as
Nick had promised, better overall.  "So," she began after leaning back
against him again, "When will you tell LaCroix?"

"Whenever I get a chance.  Assuming he doesn't already somehow know."
At that thought, he took a drink from his glass.

Mirroring Nick, she then said, "I don't want to go by the precinct right
away tonight."

"We can't keep this a secret."

"I know, but I don't have to say anything for a week.  I guess I just
want to know for sure that I'll still be able to do my job."

He turned his head in toward her, kissed her lightly on the forehead,
and told her, "I'm sure you'll do fine.  You already have the skills and
experience to adapt."

"Yeah, but I seriously doubt I can simply walk in and pretend it's
business as usual."  She smiled and turned toward Nick.  "And I can't
wait to see you trying to help."

"I could always be your distraction," he suggested, then leaned forward
slightly and kissed her.

"Hmm, not that kind of help," she whispered when he pulled slightly
back.  "It's more likely to be of the cut-into-the-body type."

Nick managed not to wince at that grisly thought, keeping his slight
smile.  He did, however, hope she wouldn't need too much direct help.
It was one thing to watch someone else get their hands literally bloody,
rather than do it oneself.  He hadn't done the latter for...a while now,
really.  And he preferred to keep it that way, if possible.  But he'd
help, if she needed it.  He'd do anything she asked.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (054/111)

Natalie hadn't slept much at all that day, and it had little to do with
her new, almost insatiable at times, appetite for Nick.  Then, arriving
at work, things only got worse.  Sure enough, the man from the alley the
previous night was her first customer.  He bore no fang marks, at least,
but sported a rather mangled wound on his neck.

The detectives on the case dropped by after she finished the autopsy.
They, of course, suspected the murderer had been a vampire, and said a
few nasty things under their breath about 'those demonic creatures' and
how uncontrolled vampires were as they had left the morgue.  She had
been thankful they were on their way out; she was positive her eyes had
flashed gold at their callous words.

A moment later, Nick set a mug of warmed blood in front of her, which
she thanked him for greatly.  She had managed to get through John Doe's
autopsy with no help from Nick other than his reassuring presence and
gentle reminders that she could do it.  She suspected her minimal
struggle had to do with her being angry with LaCroix and the fact that
Mr. Doe's body was rather low on blood.  She couldn't help but think
this was some sort of revenge or demonstration.  He knew she'd be the
one to perform the autopsy.

Mere minutes later, Schanke came through the doors and walked right up
to her desk, giving barely a glance to Nick, who sat in the chair
opposite her.

She finished taking a drink from her mug, then asked, "What are you
doing here?  It's your night off...isn't it?"

"Yeah.  It's his, too."  Schanke tilted his head toward Nick while he
eyed the mug, then glanced to the body on the table.  "That's not, you
know, *his*, is it?"

"Ugh, no," she said, setting the mug down and pushing her chair back.
Thinking about that man's blood was the absolute last thing she wanted
to do.

Nick pulled a bottle out from under the desk.  "It's from here,
Schanke."

The detective's eyes widened, seeing the green glass bottle, then he
turned back to Natalie.  Something seemed different about her.  It was
odd, but other than her appearing slightly paler than usual she
looked...brighter?  He couldn't think of a good, platonic-sounding
descriptor.  "So," he awkwardly started, "How are you doing?  You
look--well, I'm not saying--not with Knight here."

She smiled a bit at that, although it was forced.  "I'm okay...which
I've already told Nick a good half a dozen times."  She said the last
pointedly to Nick.

"Cohen know yet?" Schanke prodded.

"Nope," she replied.  "Planning to tell her, but not sure if now is
better or maybe at the start of shift tomorrow."

Schanke shifted slightly.  "If you want my opinion..."

"Shoot away.  Nick thinks I should have already told her.  For me, I'd
like at least one non-drained body to dissect first."

He paled slightly and turned toward the man on the table.  "He was
drained?  I mean a vampire--"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.

"Well, I think tonight is probably better, considering how--it, er,
would be better to get it out there before someone blows your cover."

"That shouldn't happen in...what, six more hours of my shift?  Assuming
there's nothing urgent."

"If Knight is gonna stay here all night, hovering over you, someone is
gonna notice and of course, they'll wonder *why* he's here.  Then
they'll start putting all the pieces together.  I mean, some people
already think you're a vampire...and you gotta admit, that wound on your
neck kinda magically vanished.  The folks that didn't think it, or were
on the fence, well, after they see or hear about that...you know they'll
connect the dots, too.  And *that* won't be some vague little line
drawing, but something more along the line of one of your autopsy
reports.  And you know how the old rumour mill goes--light speed.  The
Captain'll hear everything before you tell her, and, er, I just have
this feeling that she'd rather find out first-hand."

Natalie winced at that and rolled her chair back up to her desk.  "Okay,
I get the point.  So...might as well get it over with."  She
instinctively reached for the mug again, feeling a bit jittery now from
the thought of being discovered as he described, but stopped herself at
the last moment.  She couldn't depend on blood every time she felt a bit
on edge.  Not if she wanted to be able to do her job.  "So, how's
Sydney?" she abruptly asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, great.  Jenny wants another cat now, though, instead of a dog."

She gave him a genuine smile this time.  "Have fun with that.  I tried
getting another cat once, but Sydney kept attacking the poor girl.  He's
older now, though; he mellowed a bit toward Nick...eventually.  Stopped
hissing at him, at least.  If you'd like, I'll pay for his next vet
check-up."

"Nah.  Just let me know where you take him so I can tell Myra."  He
perked up a bit at that.  "Oh, did I tell you Myra loves Sydney?  She
doesn't object at all to getting a cat now.  Or, well, another, I guess,
since--"

"And what about you?" she asked, curious.

"Well," Schanke started, shifting slightly and glancing toward his
partner.  "I really was hoping to get Jenny a dog, but I have to say,
Sydney has grown on me a bit, too."

"Doesn't mean you can't have both at some point.  Dogs and cats can get
along fine, if you get the right pairing."

Schanke hesitated again, wanting to stay, but running out of
conversation.  He made a point of checking his watch.  "Oh, gee.  I'll
bet Myra's probably wondering where I am.  I didn't tell her I was
coming here--or why.  And certainly not saying--well, never mind that,"
he said, glancing toward his partner again, who was glaring at him with
faintly glowing eyes, for some reason.  "What?  You know I wouldn't
exactly be thrilled if, say, you told Myra she looks absolutely
fantastic right in front of me, but as long as you weren't outright
hitting on her or seducing her...well...I'd let it slide.  I'd know you
meant it as a compliment.  And that's what I'm trying to do, without
having you rip me to shreds, all right?"  The only response he got was
his partner's eyes glowing brighter.  Figuring he might as well say what
he was going to, he turned his attention from an irate Nick, directly
faced Natalie, and said, "Natalie, these may be my last words, but...you
do look absolutely fantastic, and...I just thought you should know that,
okay?"

She glanced down at her desk, then grinned and replied, "Thanks,
Schanke.  That actually means a lot."

The mortal gave her a quick nod, then turned back to Nick, whose gaze
hadn't changed much during the exchange.  Nor had he said anything.
"Come on, Nick.  Stop glaring at me like that, will ya?  Please?"

At the direct comment, Nick averted his gaze, realising his eyes had
turned gold at some point.  "Sorry, Skank.  I'm a bit...distracted," he
mumbled.

Schanke waved a hand to brush off any lingering emotional residue and
change the subject.  "Well, anyhoo, call me if you decide you won't be
in tomorrow--either if you manage to get off or will be working here
or...whatever.  I just don't want to have to tell Cohen that I don't
know where the hell you are.  Again."  He hesitated before actually
leaving, and his tone softened a bit as he continued, "And, by the way,
good luck with Cohen.  I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that."

Nick closed his eyes as his partner left, and Natalie finally gave in
and drank the rest of her mug of blood.

"So," she started, setting her mug down and poking at it with her hand
slightly, "Can we wait, or do you think we should go over and tell Cohen
now?"

He considered the question itself, as well as their situation before
replying.  It felt odd having her ask him for advice like that--he,
after all, wasn't her master.  Eventually, he answered, "Now might be
better.  While it's just night shift."

"And before anyone tells Cohen that you've been here at the morgue all
night," she added.

Nick nodded, agreeing.  He suspected Cohen wouldn't be thrilled with
finding out after the fact, especially after learning that Natalie had
already worked a bit as a newly-turned vampire--but it would be better
that she found out now, rather than the following night or at the end of
Natalie's shift.  While Cohen wasn't the only one Natalie could tell,
they had both decided that Natalie herself would be the one to tell her.
He had other things they needed to ask about.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"You know, this is a much faster trip when you fly," Natalie said,
landing next to Nick a block away from the 96th precinct fifteen minutes
later.  It had only taken even that long because she'd had to wait until
the attendants cleaned up, and she'd wanted to make copies of something
that she either planned on taking to the 23rd herself--or Nick would do
it.  It all depended on how she felt after walking through the 96th.

"Remember, try not to listen to any conversations," he said, gently
putting his arm around her waist and guiding her toward the entrance.

Natalie didn't reply.  It would be nearly impossible not to do just
that, but she understood what he meant.  If she heard something, try not
to focus on it.  She hadn't yet been exposed to the speculative whispers
that he had.  The morgue was relatively isolated, and she shouldn't have
to deal with it all night like Nick sometimes did.  Her patients, for
the most part, couldn't talk.  Granted, it wasn't her patients she
worried about...

Entering the precinct, Nick released Natalie and lagged several steps
behind her as she walked toward Cohen's office.  Perhaps it would have
been better to do it the other way around, though.  As she had in the
Raven, Natalie drew more attention than usual.  He was thankful it was
mostly silent, stunned attention rather than whispers.  The few bits of
conversation about them were mainly about him--specifically wondering
what he was doing there on his night off, trying to remember if he and
Schanke had an active, urgent case.

Natalie knocked on Cohen's open door and waited outside the office.  She
could practically feel Nick come up behind her right as Cohen looked up.

"Dr. Lambert?"

"Can we come in?" Natalie asked, nodding absently back toward Nick.

Cohen's gaze immediately went to her detective, lingering even after she
answered, "Of course."

Natalie entered and sat down, and Nick followed her, shutting the door
behind him.  It took him a moment before he sat down, Cohen's eyes still
locked on him.

"It's your night off, Detective," Cohen started, staring right at him.
"I take it this has to do with something else?" she asked, first looking
to Nick, then she turned to Natalie, narrowing her eyes.  Something was
different about her.

"Ah, yeah," Natalie answered.  "Nick's my...he's sort of my chaperone
for tonight."

"Chaperone?" Cohen asked, glancing from Natalie to Nick and finally back
again.  Then, she stiffened slightly, realising what that meant.
"You've been turned."

"Yes," she answered, even though it wasn't a question.

"By Knight?" Cohen asked, focusing on Nick, who averted his gaze.

"No."  Now she looked away as well, her eyes locking on the near edge of
Cohen's desk.  "It was LaCroix."

"When?"

"Friday, early afternoon.  So, about thirty-six hours ago."

Cohen thought about this, wondering if the vampire's little visit last
night had anything to do with this.  "And you are coming to me with this
because...?"

"I'm sure I need to be tested again.  And I'm sure Schmidt has to do
it."

"Schmidt is not here right now."

Nick snapped his gaze up to Cohen.  "He was here last night."

"And he left for Chicago shortly after sunrise."  She considered, then
told him, "I assume I can trust you to be truthful when you put
Natalie's information down, correct?"

He nodded.

"Then any official testing can wait, as far as I'm concerned.  I'll tell
the police commission in the morning."  Cohen narrowed her eyes
slightly, then asked, "Although, I am curious why she needs a chaperone.
And what about tomorrow night?  Tomorrow, you both work."

"I'm probably going to need Nick's help," Natalie readily admitted.  "At
least at first."

"Have you even attempted to perform an autopsy now that you're a
vampire?"

"Just one," she answered.  "But haven't been on site yet."

"Do you need to take time off for this, Knight?"

"I'd prefer not to, but I will need to accompany Natalie at times, at
least until she knows what to expect."

"What to expect?" Cohen asked, confused, now turning to the other woman,
hoping she would answer the question.

At this, Natalie hesitated and fumbled a bit as she replied, "I think he
means how I'll react to freshly spilt blood."

Cohen leaned back in her chair at the explanation, taking in a deep
breath, then she turned back to her Detective.  "I expect you to put any
leads on your own cases first," she told him.  She shook her head
slightly, sighed, and continued, "And stay out of the way of any other
detectives if it's not your case.  And also be sure to tell your partner
or myself--or better yet, both of us--where you are."  Reconsidering,
Cohen told Natalie, "Dr. Lambert, if you would wait outside, please?"

Both Natalie and Nick stiffened at this, and she whispered to him, "I'll
head to the 23rd," and reluctantly left.

He watched her through the window as she weaved through the bullpen to
leave.

"Nick?"

He turned sharply back at the informal use of his name.

"How hard will it be for Natalie to do her job?"

"It may be difficult at first," he slowly started.  Then, closing his
eyes, he added, "But I'm sure she'll be fine."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure."

"How will she react at a crime scene?"

"I can't say exactly."

"Minimal reaction?"  When he didn't answer, Cohen sat up and leaned
forward.  "I want to know what affect this will have on the others at
the scene, Detective.  And not only that, but if anyone could be in
danger, if she could--"

"No one will be in danger," he quickly countered.  "She won't hurt
anyone."

"All right, but how likely is it that someone will notice that she's
like you?"

Nick winced slightly at that.

"And I do expect an answer."

"She will likely change if there is any blood," he admitted.  "Others
will almost certainly either see or realise what she is, unless no one
is nearby."

"And your presence will help...how?"

"I can stop her from acting on instinct," he answered, quietly, still
not looking up.  "I'm sure she'll adapt quickly."

"Whether she adapts quickly or not, Detective, I need some more specific
answers.  If you're not there, what might she do?  What would you be
able to stop her from doing?"

"Like I said, she'll change.  I won't be able to prevent that."

"And...what else?"

"And she could...her temper might be a little shorter than usual.  She
could also...blood is a very strong draw to a vampire.  That's the main
thing.  She needs to learn to ignore it, and until she can, she
might...she could...I suppose you could say tamper with evidence.
Possibly without even realising what she's doing until it's too late."

"Tamper with evidence," Cohen repeated, but didn't specify 'how'.  She
could guess.

"She won't harm anyone."

"And, again, how can you be sure?" she pressed.  "And I want an answer
that is more than a 'because I'm sure'."

"Because she's quite determined to make this work and I know she won't
give up."  Nick raised his head at this, his eyes nearly turning yellow
with his certainty, trying to get Cohen to accept it.  Pushing, he used
what he was and added, "*She'll manage it.*"

Cohen blanked for a moment, mouthing the last few words without
speaking.

"Is that all?" he calmly asked, standing.

Still somewhat out of it, Cohen absently nodded.  "Although," she said,
"I want to remind you to notify me if there is anything else I should be
concerned about."

He nodded and left.  He was so determined to leave he barely noticed any
of the whispers about him, wondering why he had come in, why he had
talked to Cohen--and why Natalie had been with him.

Exiting the building, the first thing he did was glance around out of
habit to make sure no one would see him, then he took off right there in
the open and headed to the 23rd.  Outside he found Natalie, pacing, her
file still in hand.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Cohen wanted to know, more or less, whether I thought you would be able
to do your job."  He noticed her nervousness and nodded to her file.
"Do you want me to take that in?"

"No.  I just wanted to wait until you got here--and find out what she
wanted."

"You could have stayed behind and listened in," he said, smiling
slightly.

She opened her mouth to reply, but froze, surprised she hadn't thought
about that.  She could have done exactly that.  Seeing his smile, she
mirrored it.  "I can do that next time, I guess.  I'll be right back,"
she said, waving the files in front of her.  She was caught off guard
when he pulled her close and gave her a light kiss on her cheek as she
walked past him.

All she managed in reply was a smile before she headed into the
building.  She made it halfway to her target before she heard a comment
that made her steps falter--"Look how pale she is."  Her smile vanished,
despite that she tried to block out any reply...or whoever had said it.

Yes, she was pale--and she'd admit it to anyone who commented to her
face.  Even when mortal she had been rather light-complexioned, but now
her skin was nearly as white as LaCroix'.  In fact, Nick appeared oddly
human compared to her.  But it was how the comment had been said that
truly bothered her--contempt.  A few seconds later, and from the same
general direction, a single word, 'vampire', broke through her attempt
to ignore her surroundings.  She tuned her focus in on her target--the
captain's office.  He wasn't in, so all she had to do was drop the file
in the 'in' slot, turn, and--she nearly ran into one of the detectives.
"Sorry."

"You okay?" the man asked.

"Fine," she answered, her jaw clenched.  Why did everyone have to ask
that?  She was starting to understand why that particular question
bothered Nick so much.

The detective noticed, and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Nope, just need to get back to the morgue.  Patients waiting," she lied
slightly.  After all, when she had left the morgue, she hadn't had any
patients to attend to--just the knife found by the homeless man's
drained body.  Evidence.  She skirted around the detective before he
could ask her if she was sure she was all right or some other question.
The only good thing about this was that she was so focused on leaving,
she didn't hear another word on her way outside to where Nick waited for
her.

"Is something--"

"Don't.  Just...don't ask that," she said cutting him off, her eyes
flashing gold.  "Sorry, I about bowled over Krantz--Detective,
Fraud--and he seemed concerned."  Pausing, she took a deep breath to
help calm her unsettled nerves, then remembered the snippet she had
heard on her way in.  "And someone, I'm not sure who, noticed how pale I
am now.  Actually, I think that was Krantz' voice...  And I heard the
word 'vampire' shortly after that.  They definitely know or are making
some good guesses."

Nick pulled Natalie next to him as they walked away from the entrance
and past a couple of uniformed officers, both of which took a second
glance at them.  Once out of sight, they took off together toward the
morgue.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (055/111)

It was halfway through her shift the following night before Natalie had
another patient, and she had called Nick at the precinct before she left
the morgue.  She had driven her car to work at his insistence, and was
now driving to the scene, aware he would likely be there before her--he
wasn't on the case--and so he would undoubtedly fly to save time.

Pulling up by two squad cars and a detective's car, she hesitated before
getting out.  She was worried.  Not only was this her first crime scene
as a vampire, but the one bit of info she knew--that the victim had been
shot at least once--made her worry about the amount of blood.
Reluctantly she got out, only to jump when she turned around to find
Nick right behind her.  "How the hell can you still do that?!" she
complained in a whisper, not quite looking up at him.

"Because you're thinking about something else," he said, making no
effort to hide his amusement.

"Shouldn't this have been yours and Schanke's?  You two don't really
have any actives, do you?"

"No, no actives, not really; but we had those last two close together.
It's okay."  He gently put a hand on Natalie's back and started her
toward the house.  "Do you know what it is?"

"Shooting."

He nodded, his smile abruptly melting away.  Even he felt a little
nervous, but he forced himself to remain calm and instructed her, "Once
you're inside, try to focus on the details, on what you need to know.
Any blood is simply another part of the scene, another clue, more
evidence."

"Does that help you?" she asked as they neared the front doors.

"Not...really.  Sometimes."  By then, he was being questioned on why he
was there--the detectives on the case were already present.  He ended up
making the officer forget about him, not wanting to take the time to
explain the situation to every single person who saw him.

Natalie gave him a disapproving look, but kept her mouth shut.  To be
honest, the last thing she wanted was for what she was to spread like
wildfire--even though she was sure it would in a few more minutes.  Now
inside, she found out from a uniform where the body was--the
bedroom--and she led the way back where the officer had indicated.

Nick followed, trying to be unobtrusive.  He caught a few more confused
glances, but no one said anything until he entered the bedroom after
Natalie.

"What are you doing here, Knight?  This is our case," said an Italian
detective named Gatti, a tall, slightly overweight man in his early
fifties.

Nick didn't immediately answer.  He didn't know the other detective very
well, but going by his sharp question, he had a feeling Gatti was a
resistor, or at least someone who wouldn't be easily swayed into
forgetting he was there.

"And don't you even try talking your way out of answering; it won't
work.  Not with me."

Natalie barely registered Detective Gatti haranguing Nick.  Entering the
room, her attention had been completely captured by the near naked body
of a woman.  All she had on were a matching set of lacy underwear and
bra, the latter's straps loose around her arms.  She had been shot three
times and her body and the sheets were soaked with a substantial amount
of very fresh blood.

Natalie could tell the body had barely even started to cool as her
vision shifted into a sort of heat sensing mode.  She wanted ever so
much to go forward and taste the blood, particularly the crimson liquid
on the woman's still warm body.  Yet, she couldn't.  She wouldn't.

She closed her eyes against the body and blood, and felt simultaneously
like she wanted to puke, yet would do anything to get to that blood.  In
her desire to go both forward and stay as far away as possible, she
abruptly felt herself falling.  Her knees hit the carpet just as she
felt a pair of strong arms catch her.  Nick.

"Dr. Lambert?  Are you all right?" Detective Gatti called, seeing her
fall to her knees.  He walked forward, but stiffened and halted
mid-stride when the vampire glared at him, flecks of yellow in his eyes
reminding him of what the other man was.

Nick quickly helped Natalie back to her feet, then walked her out of the
bedroom and into the hall.  He leaned her up against the wall with her
back to the room before saying, "Nat?  Look at me, Natalie."

She opened her golden eyes and the only thought on her mind was the
blood.  Any blood.  Even Nick's would do.

"Concentrate, Nat.  Relax."

She closed her eyes again and tried to relax, but it just wasn't
working.  "I can still smell it," she whispered to him.  "I might as
well still be in there."

"Dr. Lambert?" Gatti's voice again said as he exited the room after
them.  When he didn't get an answer, he turned to Nick, concerned about
her odd behaviour.  "Is she okay?  She didn't hurt a knee or something,
did she?"

Nick glanced up to the detective.  Apparently Gatti didn't yet realise
Natalie was a vampire.  "No, she's not hurt.  She just needs a few
minutes and she'll be fine."  Turning back toward her, he could see her
struggling to push away whatever her instincts were telling her.  "Do
you want me to take you outside?"

"No," she immediately answered, opening her eyes.  At first they were
gold, then they faded.  In a whisper, she told him, "I think I just went
in too fast and wasn't expecting quite...that much...or it to be that
fresh."  She had barely finished her comment when she spied Detective
Gatti's partner, Petrovsky, walking up behind Nick.

"What's he doing here?" Petrovsky asked his partner, pointing a thumb at
Nick.

"Not sure.  Didn't get an answer before Dr. Lambert nearly collapsed."

"He's here to help me," she answered, turning in Nick's light grasp to
face Detective Gatti.  "Don't worry, he won't interfere with your case."
With that, she started back into the room, keeping her attention away
from the body and blood initially while she acclimated herself to the
heady scent of the victim's blood.  After a moment, she realised there
were in fact two scents.  The blood wasn't all from the same individual.
"Where's the second victim?" she abruptly asked, turning back to Gatti.

"On the way to the hospital."

"How did you know that?" Petrovsky asked.  "And Knight's a detective,
not--"

"He's a vampire," she informed him, her eyes flashing gold in annoyance.
She knew it, but just couldn't help it.  She never realised just how
hard it was for him to maintain his fully human appearance at crime
scenes.  She would never criticise him again for acting a bit off, not
after this.  "This is my first scene as one.   And unless you want your
crime scene ruined, he stays.  Got it?"

The two detectives paled a bit at her statement.  Gatti recovered first,
and watched Nick shadow Natalie.

"Now, two victims?  Both shot?"  Trying to focus on facts, she moved
slowly forward, hoping she wouldn't be overcome by the blood again.  If
she could get through this, the autopsy should be doable--with help,
anyway.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Nick headed back to the precinct once Natalie had nearly finished the
autopsy.  He could still smell the woman's blood lingering around him.
He had ended up helping with the actual autopsy this time.

Natalie had also fed from him immediately after leaving the crime scene.
He had been thankful for the bottle of blood in her car as much as she
would be, once she was finished with the autopsy.  Knowing she would
need it later, he had poured some out and left it in the mug on her desk
before heading back to work.

Weaving through the others to his desk, he felt an unusually large
number of glares on him.  There were also far fewer whispers than usual.
In fact, he didn't hear a single comment directed at or about him.
Sitting, he asked Schanke, "When did it hit the fan here?"

"An hour and a half ago.  Natalie all right?   Miller said something
about her collapsing.  And you look like crap."

Nick winced.  So it hit back here about the same time that they had left
the crime scene.  And Gatti must have told someone about what happened
when Natalie first came in.  His partner's last statement was fact--he
felt awful and was sure he looked like he belonged in the morgue's
freezer.

"So she did collapse, huh?"

"No, she didn't, Schanke, not quite.  And yes, she's fine.  She's
finishing up the autopsy right now."

"What about you?  Right now you look more like a corpse than a vampire."

"And unless you'd like to open up a vein, I'm staying that way."  He
paused a moment, then seeing Schanke go a bit pale but clearly
concerned, he added, "And don't offer."

"Wasn't gonna.  And you should know, they...er, they think you did it."

"Figured as much."  He had opened his desk drawer for something, but
slammed it shut, not remembering what he wanted.  "Great."

"You're not gonna set 'em straight?"

He shook his head.  It was probably better if they assumed he had done
it...rather than let everyone know for certain that the infamous Lucien
LaCroix had brought her over.  "Anything new?"

"Nope.  Cohen's got me going through files."  With that, Schanke took a
few off his desk and passed them over to his partner.

Nick didn't complain or even flinch.  He'd take this over holding
excised organs again any day.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

The instant his shift was over, Nick returned to the morgue, where he
found Natalie sitting at her desk staring at the empty bottle of blood.
"Nat?"

"Oh, good, now I can finally confess."

"Confess?  To what?"  He didn't stop at her desk, but walked directly
over and pulled one of her hands away from where it sat, almost wrapped
around the bottom of the bottle.  "Did something happen?"

"I tasted her blood," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.  She had done it
mere minutes after he had left.  It had been only a taste, and a small
one at that, but it was more than enough.  "I couldn't help it.  After
you left--"

"It's okay," he said, trying to calm her.  "And you know I've--"

Natalie shook her head.  "No, it's not okay, Nick.  It wasn't a lot, but
it was more than a drop.  I know deep down that it's wrong, but it felt
so...  I'd ask if you know what I mean, but I know you probably know
that better than most.  So how do you separate what you want to do, from
what you should do, and what you actually end up doing?"

"Most vampires don't bother.  I'm sure LaCroix has already told you to
leave behind--"

"My mortal morals.  Yeah, he pretty much expects it, I think.  Although,
frankly, I think he's going to have to be disappointed.  I'm not going
to be his perfect, completely uninhibited, little marionette."  She
pulled her hand out of his and started gathering her things.  She
recorked the empty bottle, then grabbed her purse and now-unnecessary
coat.

"But?" he asked, watching her run out of things to gather up.

"But on the surface, I don't feel that what I did was wrong.  And I
think I could--"  She hesitated and looked away from him again.  "I
really do think I could kill someone and be okay with it, Nick, and that
scares me.  Is that normal?  I mean to feel like I could--"

"Yeah, it's normal."

"Kind of a strange question..." she started, pausing to take in a deep
breath, "But, ah, when I do kill, will that help, or will it just make
things worse?"

Nick didn't answer; instead, he started to guide her out toward her car.
He understood the fear and couldn't offer her any assurances.  Killing
could either cement the feeling that killing was, indeed, wrong...or it
could do the opposite.

"Have you told LaCroix what I said yet?"

He halted.  Nodding, but not turning, he started, "I talked to him
before I went back to work."

"And?"

"He said he'd arrange something."

"Will he let you be there?"

"Yes.  He...rather seemed to like the idea, actually."

She tensed a little at that.  Would her request mean more trouble for
Nick?  If LaCroix liked the idea, she had a feeling Nick would somehow
be involved.  "It's okay."

"I don't want to see you kill, Nat."

"I know.  I'm not sure I really want to, myself, but I have a feeling
LaCroix will force me to do it eventually."

"Of course he will, but at least you'll get to do it on your terms."  He
pulled Natalie a little closer.  "Come on.  Let's go home."

She managed a slight smile and leaned into him as they headed out the
building.  She ended up giving him her keys.  She didn't particularly
want to drive right now.  It was different as a vampire.  For some
reason, it was all too easy to become distracted.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (056/111)

Two nights later, Nick ended up riding with Schmidt to the morgue in the
other man's car.  Schmidt had initially tried to talk to him, but after
being completely ignored for a couple of minutes, he had given up.

Arriving at the morgue, Nick started inside without asking, forcing
Schmidt to half-run to keep up.  The mortal put forth the additional
effort, however, and entered the morgue proper mere seconds after Nick.

Natalie had brightened at first, but her smile vanished upon seeing
Schmidt, fumbling with one of the black lights as he hurried in after
Nick.  "This should be fun," she said under her breath when Schmidt
passed by Nick and started for her desk.

"Good evening, Dr. Lambert.  I'm sorry I was away--"

"That's fine."

"And I'm sorry, but you do need to be officially tested.  Not my choice,
nor Captain Cohen's.  The police commission--"

"Figures."  She pulled the sleeve of her jacket back and away from her
left hand.  She had no idea what this would feel like.  Nick hadn't let
her find out for herself what either sunlight or one of those black
lights felt like while he was with her, and when he wasn't, she was too
focused on her work to think about it.

"It's okay if Nick here--"

"No, just get it over with."

Schmidt sighed and nervously walked around the desk.  He glanced at
Nick, who was hanging back on the other side of the desk, glaring at
him.  "I'll remove it as quickly as possible."

Natalie nodded slightly and waited, trying not to tense.  She watched
the mortal raise the hand in which he held the black light in and
position it over the back of her hand.  Then he switched it on.  At
first she only felt slight warmth, an uncomfortable prickling sensation.
Then it quickly changed to burning, stabbing pain.  It was horrible.
Her skin reddened and steamed, but it took several more seconds before a
burn actually appeared.

Schmidt turned the device off the instant he saw the burn and backed
away.  "I'm sorry; they wanted someone who's, ah, immune to do it.  I
don't know why--it's not like you're trying to hide what you are."

"Now leave," Nick intoned in a low voice.

"Actually, I need to talk to you back at the precinct.  I was trying to
tell you that on the way over."

Nick closed his eyes.  He honestly didn't remember much of anything
Schmidt had said to him after the other man had come up to his desk and
told him he needed to test Natalie and wanted him to come with him.

"And I also need to ask Dr. Lambert a few more questions."

"I already put her on the list," Nick said, his eyes glowing faintly.
"Do you think I lied?"

Schmidt shook his head.  "It's not that.  These are separate questions
posed by her employer."

"Fine, ask her."

Schmidt shifted slightly, then pulled out a small notebook from his
jacket and asked, "Okay, these are probably pointless, but have you
killed anyone since you became a vampire?"

"No," she answered honestly.

He made a check mark on the notepad, then asked, "Have you taken blood
from anyone?"

She tensed at this, then saw Nick ever so slightly shake his head from
behind Schmidt.  "No," she lied, then asked, "Unless taking blood from
another vampire counts?"

Schmidt's eyes went a bit wide, then he realised she probably meant Nick
and gave a glance to him.  "No, I guess the question should have been if
you've taken blood from any living humans, mortals?"

"No," she again answered.

He put another check down.  "Have you or will you cover up deaths caused
by another vampire?"

Again she saw Nick imperceptibly shake his head.  "Not intentionally,"
she answered, again lying.  After all, with vampires being known, a
bloodless corpse more or less equalled drained by a vampire--not much to
cover up.  But she did know the killer of one of her latest patients.
What few vampire kills she had seen lately were much like LaCroix'--the
wound had been completely camouflaged.  The knife had been another
matter, however, and she had purposely tampered with that piece of
evidence.  She had unexpectedly found some partial prints on the handle,
and she had wiped it down and redone her test, knowing the prints had to
be LaCroix'.  She felt ill as she waited for Schmidt to continue, but
managed to keep her gaze solidly on him.

"Good," he said with another check.  "Oh, and I'm pretty sure I know the
answer to this, but I do need a written statement from you--it's only
for new vampires.  Basically you need to say whether or not you were
turned willingly, when that occurred, and sign your name."

"Cohen already has a statement," she told him.

"Ah, yes, she mentioned that, but suggested a second might be better.  I
need the date, anyway...but she said it has something about having to do
with who turned you."

"Do I have to include that?" she asked somewhat reluctantly.

"Not in the statement, no.  Since you were turned willingly, who did it
is not required.  Not unless you want to add it."  He glanced back to
Nick.  "Did you--"

"Who will have access to that information?" Nick asked, deliberately not
answering the other man's incomplete question.

"The statement will be kept on file.  If you tell me off the record, it
won't go anywhere.  I know you have no reason to trust me, and so I
don't expect an answer to that.  But I do need the statement from Dr.
Lambert saying if it was willing, unwilling, accidental, etc.--and what
day."

Natalie gingerly pulled out a plain sheet of paper, careful to keep her
jacket sleeve pushed up so that it wouldn't touch the still barely
healing burn on her hand.  She grabbed a pen and quickly wrote out, 'I,
Natalie Lambert, was willingly brought across on Friday, November 10th,
1995.'  She signed her name and the current date at the bottom.  "There,
that work?"

Schmidt took the sheet of paper and read through the single sentence.
"Yes, that's fine."  He folded it in half and turned toward Nick.  "Now,
I do really want and need to talk to you tonight; Cohen already gave me
permission to use up some of your time."

Nick hesitated.  He had already nearly forgotten about that.  Again.
Schmidt definitely wanted to talk to him about something, but what?

"Go, Nick, I'll be fine."

His attention shifted back to Natalie, his eyes darting to the burns on
her hand.  He didn't want to leave her like this, but she kept looking
at him expectantly.

"Meet me in the conference room when you get back, Knight," Schmidt
said, then left.

Nick was thankful for the quick departure.  He walked over to Natalie
and took her burned hand in his, careful not to touch the injured skin.

"Wonder what he wants to talk to you about?" she asked, watching him
kneel in front of her.

"If he said, I wasn't listening.  Probably more questions or something."
He touched the skin around the burn gently, ever so slightly brushing
the smooth skin around the edges.

"Hmm, you know that almost feels good...or it would if it didn't sting a
bit."

He snapped his attention up, dropping her hand.  "Sorry."

"About what?  You have nothing to be sorry about."  Seeing his
uncertainty, she repeated, "Nothing."  She held up her hand with the
burn on it.  "And certainly not this.  I'm sure it'll be healed in a
bit, anyway."

"You could feed from me," he suggested tentatively, once again taking
Natalie's hand.

"Hmm, no, I'm somewhat curious how long it'll take to heal on its own,
actually."  When he started to become concerned, she shrugged.  "What
can I say; still a scientist."

"Just don't do too many experiments around LaCroix," he said, his
features shifting into something more mischievous, topped off with a
lopsided smile.

Natalie returned his smile.  "Don't worry, I won't.  Now go and find out
what Schmidt wants."

"Maybe I don't want to just yet?  If I leave now, I'll be back before
him."

"If that's the case, maybe you can check out *all* of whatever he's got
before he gives you just whatever he *chooses*."

Nick considered that and, quickly deciding it was a good idea, he stood
up again.  "Remember to call me--"

"If I'm called out.  Don't worry; I'm not ready to go solo quite yet."
She smiled at him, accepted a kiss on her lips and another on her
forehead.  Then Nick was gone.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Nick arrived back at the precinct only a couple of minutes later.  He
quickly dropped his coat off by his desk, then started back to the
conference room to see if he could get in.  It was unlocked.  He smiled
and opened the door.

He froze the moment he stepped inside.  The room was almost entirely
back to normal.  The computer and the television cart were gone.  All
that was left of Schmidt's stuff was a box of files and his briefcase.
He had packed up to leave.

Nick hesitated, slowly closing the door behind him as he stared at the
few remaining items.  Had Schmidt mentioned he was leaving on the way to
the morgue?  The room completely threw off his plan and, after nearly a
minute, he resigned himself to sit in one of the chairs to wait.

It took another five minutes for the mortal to arrive, and he
momentarily froze.  "I'm surprised you aren't going through my things
again."

"That was actually what I had intended.  Are you leaving?"

"Ah, yes.  Going back to my real job.  Which, I've got to say, I'm
absolutely thrilled about.  So are my wife and daughter."

Again Nick was a bit taken aback.  He hadn't realised Schmidt was
married, but glancing at his hand he immediately spotted a wedding ring.
Schmidt hadn't mentioned much, if anything, about his personal life--and
no one had ever asked.

Nick was brought back out of his thoughts when the mortal moved his
briefcase onto the table, unlocked it, and pulled out a rather thick
file.

"This is for you," he said, holding it out.

Nick was a bit surprised, but took the file.  "What is this?"

"Everything I could find.  Including some of the scans or notes
explaining how they discovered so much more background on you and
LaCroix."  He paused before further explaining, "I also managed to get
hold of some other information as well.  Most of it you're not going to
like, but at least it isn't public in any way."

"What kind of information?"

"They have done DNA tests on both you and LaCroix, tested your blood.
They've done the same for several other vampires in other cities.  In
fact, your blood was how they discovered that you and LaCroix were
related--and how."

"Our blood?"  He closed his eyes.  It wouldn't have been hard once they
knew what they were, really, and he guessed, "Someone collected our
blood from where we were injured."

"Apparently.  I'm sorry, I wasn't aware of it.  Getting samples of
vampire DNA is--it's probably how they're hoping to identify any kills
in the future.  It would also be a more accurate way to identify you if
you relocate."

"And identify any relationships between us."

"Yes.  In addition to that--well, remember that asteroid scare or
whatever it was recently?"

Nick hesitated, but nodded.  At that time, many vampires began killing
without care--thinking the world was about to end, they were unconcerned
with being discovered.  Why hadn't he thought of that before?  That
wasn't that long ago...

"That's apparently what precipitated all of this mess, so to speak.
Some of your kind were out of control--and some were captured and held.
That's how they got the interviews, the blood, found your weaknesses,
and initially figured out the differences in your blood.  And then when
someone caught those murders on video...it was a ready-made way to
reveal vampires."

Nick closed his eyes.  He could only imagine what had been done to those
vampires.

"It's all there.  I only ask that you not say where you got it, or at
least not pass on that information.  You can do whatever you want with
the information itself."

"Why don't you care?  What I do with the information, I mean," he asked,
turning his attention fully on Schmidt, his eyes narrowing.

"Because I no longer even indirectly work for...whoever is pulling the
strings behind all of this.  And, no, I still don't know exactly who was
behind it, beyond the fact that they paid our salaries and that they
gave us a bit more work to do.  Hopefully I do actually have a regular
job to go back to...but whatever the case, anyone who's been working as
a liaison like myself has been recalled."  Schmidt sighed, clearly
stressed.  "I really should mention I didn't look through everything,
not quite.  I kept getting distracted by those DNA results."

"Why?" he asked, curious what Schmidt would say about vampire DNA.
Natalie had, of course, run his DNA--and that of the virus that made him
what he was.  She had also performed every test she could think of on
his blood, and more or less found that it was much further from human
than she--or even he--expected.  Was that what Schmidt had found
curious?  That the blood tests proved vampires were clearly not quite
human?

"For some reason they had highlighted your reports--yours and LaCroix',
that is.  I suspect that was because you two are the oldest vampires
they have samples from."

"They're trying to find our origins," Nick voiced aloud, although it was
only a thought.  "Is there anything on LaCroix' creator?"

"No.  Absolutely nothing.  Which is probably good--I suspect they'd go
to the ends of the earth to hunt them down for a blood sample.  Or
worse.  The files also show that LaCroix is by far the oldest vampire
they are presently aware of.  So the more they can piece together about
him..."

Nick nodded slightly at that, then glanced at the file in his hands.
"Is this a copy?"

"No."  Schmidt clarified, "Beyond being copies of the originals, but it
was compiled from several sources.  Either directly or the files were
mailed or faxed to me."

"And why are you giving it to me?"

"Because most of it pertains to you or LaCroix.  And because of your job
and the fact that you haven't simply vanished into the shadows when you
easily could have, if you wanted to."

Schmidt pulled out a business card from his briefcase and turned it
over.  He wrote a phone number and address on the back before handing it
to Nick.  "Here.  If you want or need to contact me for any reason, the
front has my work phone--which I think is still good--and I wrote my
home number and address on the back."

"So you're leaving now," Nick stated and stood.

"My flight is first thing in the morning."  He flipped his briefcase
closed and relocked it.  "And I'll head out from here in maybe another
hour or so.  I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of writing
down your home phone number and address.  I won't pass it out to
anyone."

Nick was slightly uncomfortable at that, but after all, the mortal had
been at his home more than once and had called him there, so it wasn't
as if he didn't already have that information.  So far it hadn't been
leaked.

"If that's not all right--"

"It's fine," he said, averting his gaze.

"Dr. Lambert might have better luck with several of those files.  Some
of them are rather technical."

"Does Cohen know about any of this?" Nick asked, lifting the large file
slightly.

"No.  Just us and, again, I don't know all of what's in there.  Might be
best not to tell her--or anyone else, for that matter--that you have
this information, or that I gave it to you.  These weren't collected
quite legally, and I'm sure it could be traced back to me fairly
easily."  He paused, putting his briefcase back.  Once he turned around,
he added, "And since what you are has come out..."

"They know I'm somewhat friendly with you and would then trace it to
me."

"Exactly."

"You didn't have to do this."

"Perhaps not, but I did.  Think of it as repaying a favour."

"I haven't--"

"I've never asked, but if you hadn't been there in the club that
night...would things have gone differently?"

"I don't know...I don't think there is any way to know for sure."

"But when you didn't panic...  I mean, Janette is--"

"I really don't know what would have happened...possibly nothing."

"Possibly," Schmidt echoed.  "But I have a feeling that things would
have gone much worse without your presence...and Dr. Lambert's, as well.
And I'm grateful for that."  He shrugged his shoulders, took a deep
breath, then changed the subject.  "Anyway, I hope those files will be
of some use to you...if only to show the extent of the information they
have on you, as individuals, and on vampires in general."

Nick glanced down to the large folder.  He'd like to look through it
right now, but he had a feeling it might be best to get it out of the
precinct.  At least for the moment.  But where should he take it?  Home,
the morgue, or the Raven?



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (057/111)

Nick paced in the conference room for a couple of minutes, making
Schmidt concerned, before he finally decided where to take the file--the
Raven.

Entering the club, he hesitated slightly.  His sire had made even more
changes to the establishment beyond the bit of construction he'd seen,
which was now finished and he could see the completed modifications.
LaCroix had set up a small, soundproof radio booth from which to
broadcast his show.  Nick couldn't help but smile slightly, but he
couldn't immediately place the other changes.  He was too focused on
wanting to get rid of the file to spare the patrons or the decor much
attention.

In fact, the new booth was where he found LaCroix, reciting Shakespeare.
The other man paused and smiled upon seeing him, quickly starting a
music break so that by the time he reached the door, LaCroix was waiting
patiently for him.

"Shouldn't you be working?"

"I am, or will be soon.  Here."  He held out the file Schmidt had given
him.

"And precisely what is this?  New material for my show?"

Nick grimaced and shook his head.  "You know it's not.  It's the
information you wanted from Schmidt.  And more."

"Gathered by that mortal?"

"Yes.  He's leaving.  Returning to his old job, whatever that was."  He
hesitated, then leaned on the panels in front of his sire.  Still
holding onto the file with one hand, he whispered, "He specifically
mentioned that they had collected and analysed our blood.  And
ours--yours and mine--has been flagged, for some reason.  Natalie might
be able to tell why.  She's tested my blood and even run my DNA before."

LaCroix became visibly angry at the last bit of information, then he
stood and gradually backed the younger man into the door.

"It has nothing to do with us being discovered, LaCroix.  She ran the
test herself and no one else saw any part of it.  And she did it long
before the mortals found out about us--which apparently happened because
of the near-miss scare with that asteroid."

LaCroix closed his eyes just as he was about to whisper something in his
son's ear, then pushed off from the door and turned.

"Schmidt thinks they highlighted our tests because of our ages, yours
especially."

"Did he discover the answer to your question to him?  How they came upon
their new-found trove of information about us, about me."
 
"Supposedly that's in there, too.  I haven't gone through all of it yet.
And, by the way, Cohen doesn't know anything about this."

"Why didn't you take it to your dear sister?" LaCroix asked, turning.

"I considered it."

"Hmm.  I suppose I should be flattered that you chose me."  He smiled at
that, some of his anger vanishing.  "Good to know you still think of
me...on occasion."  He finally took the file, glancing at the folder
before telling his son, "Thursday night, an hour past sunset.  Find me."

Nick was initially confused.  Find him Thursday, an hour after sunset?
"For what?"

"Natalie's...lesson.  I believe I have something arranged that she will
find acceptable."

"Which is?"

LaCroix grinned ear to ear at that.  "Wait and see."

"Why are you being so...considerate to her?  You've never done something
like this before."

"Who says this is solely for her?"  He went back to his chair, putting
the file off to the side.  "Now, I suggest you leave...unless you want
all of Toronto and who knows who else to learn of your visit.  My
following has increased...considerably...in recent weeks.  And it would
seem that everything I broadcast now ends up on the internet within
hours, whether I wish it or not."

Nick hesitated, but with another glare and his sire's hand poised over a
switch, he left the booth and returned to the noisy club.  He hadn't had
a chance to ask about the other changes that once again hit him so hard
he paused a moment before starting outside again.

Janette had tried to keep the nightclub relatively safe for mortals and
vampires alike--at least on the surface--but he noticed the club now
felt rather...edgy, more...dangerous.  Not only were more vampires in
the club, but they were no longer making any attempt to hide what they
were.  He glanced away when he saw a young male vampire openly bite a
woman on the neck in the middle of the club.  Another couple were
engaged in more than simply tasting vintages off in a corner.

The bouncers at the door were gone...so were the mortals who had been
camped out across the street for the past two and a half months.
Someone had also removed the 'protective' cameras from outside the club.
Either no one noticed or, more likely, no one cared or dared enough to
fix it.

Whatever the case, LaCroix had clearly made changes--most, in his
opinion, for the worse.  Granted, the mortals who watched the club had
left, although that had to be more from fear now than anything else.
Even the inside of the club had fewer mortals in attendance, and many of
the vampires were strangers, completely unknown to him.

Stopping outside the club entrance along the oddly empty street, Nick
waited a few seconds before taking off to head back to the precinct.  He
would talk to LaCroix about the Raven on another occasion.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"So, what does it mean?" Nick asked at the end of Natalie's shift the
following night.

She looked over toward the folder Nick had in his hands.  LaCroix had
dropped part of the file off at the morgue early that evening--almost
all of it, by Nick's guess.  It was there when she had arrived at work,
and she had been skimming through it, on and off, through most of the
night.  "They're trying to find out as much as possible about what makes
someone a vampire.  They have DNA tests, general blood work-up,
information on what nutrients we need to survive--and we already know
they're trying to make a blood substitute."

"And LaCroix and I are highlighted because...?"

"Probably what Schmidt thought--because you two are the oldest two
vampires they've managed to collect blood or tissue for.  Vampire DNA
is...frankly, it's weird.  I wish I had had their resources, but...as
far as I can tell, they've also been looking for a way to turn vampires
back...make us regular humans again.  Without success, I might add."

He put the file folder down at that.  "So it's not doable?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say--"

"It's not doable," he said again, this time stating it.

"Possibly not, or at least not yet," she finally answered.  "The biggest
problem--what I had suspected, and they have confirmed countless
times--is that our DNA has been at least partially overwritten.  It's
been integrated with--"

"A virus."

"Exactly, and it's this virus they're actually trying to profile.  The
virus itself changes ever so slightly from generation to
generation--it's like ever so tiny amounts of it get dropped.  Possibly
less of it each time, if I'm reading their notes right.  But within a
single host, it never changes, just like vampires don't age."

"So you're saying we change with each generation?" he asked.  "And each
generation will be--gradually--more human, and less...vampire, right?

"Something like that."

Nick shook his head.  There weren't many, if any, differences between
LaCroix and any of the newly turned vampires at the Raven.  Not that he
could tell.  "That's not--vampires don't change."

"Yes, we do, at least at this level.  And I'd about bet LaCroix is
different, if you really think about it."  She watched him shake his
head again.  "No, Nick, just listen.  *Slightly* different.  Maybe not
in general ability, but...what about...resiliency?  After all, how many
times have you thought you'd seen the last of him, then...poof, he's
magically alive again."

He thought about that and froze.  LaCroix *was* quite resilient.  "I
killed him myself.  I watched him turn to ash, and yet--"

"Exactly my point.  He was--what?  Staked, burned by fire, and more or
less melted to ash?  Have you ever seen or heard of a vampire surviving
that?  A pile of ash equals *dead* for any other vampire.  But not him."

"I probably only imagined--"

"You didn't, but...  Okay, then tell me you know of another vampire who
could have survived being shot like he was.  Could you?  Could Janette?
Have you ever heard of something like that?"

He shook his head.  "No, but wooden bullets are different than wooden
stakes.  LaCroix isn't any different than the rest of us."

"Okay, then how about pitting me up against another newly turned
vampire, male or female.  I'd bet good money that I'd win, wouldn't I?"

He closed his eyes.  He couldn't deny that.  Other vampires definitely
put substantial stock in the belief that LaCroix' blood meant something.
Otherwise they wouldn't be afraid of him.

"Nick?  Would I?"

"I don't know.  Possibly."  He saw her looking at him expectantly, her
eyebrows raised.  "All right, almost certainly, assuming you were
otherwise evenly matched."

"Point is, the older the vampire, the more interest they have in
them--they're more likely to be a purer form of vampire, if that makes
any sense.  They're more likely to have a more complete form of the
virus."

"And they want this...why?"

"I have no idea.  I can't think of any use, beyond using those
differences to create a sort of vampire genealogy...or if they wanted to
actually create a vampire."

Nick tensed at that.  But could it be done?

"It probably wouldn't be that difficult to bring someone across
artificially.  Just drain 'em, feed them fresh vampire blood, wait a
bit, and hope their lab rat doesn't kill them.  The older the strain of
virus they use, the purer and more interesting their creation."

Nick didn't particularly like the sound of that.  It made him think of
creating some nefarious army of super vampires, particularly if there
was something to her theory about the differences between generations.

She pulled the file out of Nick's hands and found one sheet.  "But,
judging by this, I'd say for now they're focusing on the vampire
genealogy slant.  They want all the information they can get their hands
on.  More ways to categorise us.  Plus, as I've told you before, your
blood and DNA breaks down fairly quickly.  Or, well, ours does...but it
means that, in order for them to bring others across, they'd have to
keep the original vampire alive.  But blood testing and DNA testing for
genetics purposes...that's much simpler."

"So now they have even more ways to differentiate us, huh?"

"Yep."  She put the file folder down on her desk.  "I'd bet they'd love
a sample of my blood."

"You know that everyone thinks I brought you across," he stated, which
was true.  They had both decided to let others assume he had done it,
and even if asked point blank with no way out, they would lie and
confirm he had.

"I don't think that matters, Nick.  Among those tests, they have neither
three successive generations, nor two vampires with the same...parent.
Plus I'd think they'd be happy to get any vampire's blood they don't
already have.  Like I said, they want to catalogue us a bit more
in-depth than just names, photograph, and fang spacing.  DNA doesn't
change, not even ours.  It's the ultimate vampire fingerprint."

"Our fingerprints don't change, either."

"Yeah, but vampires leave cruddy fingerprints, assuming they leave any
at all.  Not that some places aren't taking them, but they show up
better on a card than a glass or something.  But DNA...with that, they
could probably identify individual vampires by the residual saliva in
bites.  Might want to have a little chat with LaCroix about that."

"But tonight--"

"I'll be bringing one of those UV lights.  From what I can tell, it's
powerful enough to destroy any stray vampire tissue, whether it's blood,
saliva, or...whatever."

"Are you sure?" he asked, concerned.  Killing had been dangerous enough
in this modern world before the mortals had learned that real vampires
existed.  If mortals could start matching their DNA with any evidence
left behind on their victims...

"Positive.  Fairly positive anyway.  I won't know with 100% certainty
for another few days.  Already did some tests to get an idea of how much
time it takes, but..." then she hesitated and turned her hands over,
revealing her still rather pink fingertips, her right hand redder than
her left.  "I think tonight it might be better if you use it.  That
thing really hurts to hold."

Seeing the nearly healed burns on her hands, his own hands darted out
across the desk to gently take them.  "Natalie..."

"Don't worry; I'm fine.  But I'll admit that I am starting to get
nervous about tonight for other reasons.  What if I can't--what if I
can't or won't do it, for whatever reason?"

"I don't know.  But I know he'll keep pushing it.  He'll goad you into
it.  Or trick you.  He won't hesitate to do whatever it takes to make
you kill.  It's just a matter of time."  Nick closed his eyes and leaned
his head down, continuing to hold onto her hands.  "If it helps, I'm
afraid as well.  I can feel myself slipping back to him, using what I am
more often, wanting to use what I am."

"You could switch back to cow's blood," she suggested.  "I mean, since
he isn't living at the loft anymore..."

He shook his head.  "I don't know if I can do that, Nat.  Not right now,
anyway."  He glanced up at her, then explained, "It's been a while since
I've had only human blood for this long; it's been nearly three months
of drinking it.  And as you know, some of that blood was very
fresh--right from the source.  And I want..."

"You want to kill someone."

"No!" he immediately answered, then closed his eyes and curled his lip
up in disgust.  "Yes," he hissed, again looking down.  "But no, I don't
want to kill, not really.  I just crave--"

She pulled her hands easily from his, which had gone limp, and put one
to his lips, stopping him from talking.  She didn't like seeing him like
this, distraught between what his mind and body wanted.  Now at least
she understood it; she was even feeling this duplicity in herself.  What
bothered her the most was that Nick apparently felt just as helpless, if
not more so, than she did.

"Maybe once things settle down a little more, I can switch back."  He
turned back to Natalie, into her oddly understanding eyes.  "Maybe.  But
if I do, you'll have to switch, too.  I wouldn't be able to drink cow's
blood if there's human blood sitting right next to it."

"Nick, I'll drink whatever you do."

"Even if it tastes like...grassy cardboard?" he asked, knowing she
hadn't drunk anything other than human blood over the nearly week she
had been a vampire.

Natalie had to smile slightly at the description and Nick's near-wince.
"Then grassy cardboard it will be."

Mirroring her smile, he shook his head slightly.  "Don't make any
promises until you've had a taste.  It's really not as much like human
blood as it looks."

"Well," she said, flipping the folder shut and putting it in a locked
drawer, "You could always drive to work instead of flying.  If you're
really worried about using what you are too much."

"Does that mean you'll drive to work, too?"

She suddenly became very interested in her desk and was rather happy she
couldn't visibly blush.  The last two days she had simply left her car
in the morgue parking lot during the day...and most of the night as
well.  The only times she had driven it were when she had to go to a
crime scene.  Any reports were delivered by other means.  "Point made.
So maybe I could meet you at the precinct, or you could pick me up?"

"Maybe," he said, then he smiled and stood while Natalie gathered her
purse, coat, and the special light she had used earlier.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (058/111)

The following night, an hour after sunset, Nick and Natalie left the
loft.  He let Natalie lead the way, and it didn't take long for her to
lead him to the second floor of a deserted warehouse not even ten blocks
away.  Why did LaCroix have to pick somewhere so close to his home for
meetings?

Nick slowed as they approached LaCroix.  Behind him stood two mortal
women.  They were both unbound and appeared to be present of their own
free will, although one of the women appeared more nervous than the
other.

LaCroix walked forward, smiling, half laughing at his son's
apprehension.  He stopped when he reached his daughter.  "I believe my
selections tonight should meet with your approval.  They are from Quebec
City and will be returned there.  And they are quite willing...as you
can see.  They *want* to die.  The choice is their own, I assure you."

Nick finished approaching, stopping next to his master.  "Why two?"

He chuckled softly.  "One, of course, is for you."

Natalie felt sick and involuntarily stepped back.  The first thought
that ran through her mind was that she would kill them both, if it meant
Nick wouldn't have to kill again.  All worry about her own ability to
take a life had vanished.  She would have no trouble killing tonight.

Nick, in shock, turned his gaze toward the waiting women.

"No comment, Nicholas?  No...protest?"

"Please, LaCroix..."

"Please...let you go first?"  His smug grin widened and he walked around
his son, stopping behind him.  "Of course," he whispered, pulling the
younger man back against him.  "Take your pick."

Nick closed his eyes and shook his head.  "No, I won't--"

"Yes, you *will*," he whispered, even quieter.  Shifting, he whispered
in his son's other ear, "If you don't, then she will kill both of them;
and she would gladly do so for you."  He smiled, and brought a hand up
to touch the other man's neck, gently stroking it as if he were a pet.
"Regardless, they both die.  You might as well take part, spare her from
killing both of them."

"Let one go!" he retorted, eyes glowing as he turned his head toward his
sire.

"No.  They will both die.  They *want* to die.  Even you should not have
too much of an issue with *that*," LaCroix said rather snidely.  Then,
almost fatherly, he continued, "Help them die, Nicholas.  You want
it...they want it...and I want it.  Help them."

Nick felt ill, but his gaze turned back to the two women.  Either he
killed one, or LaCroix would allow and possibly 'encourage' Natalie to
kill both.  It was bad enough his sire was pushing her to kill.  She
shouldn't have to do so twice back to back.  Not to spare him.  Not
after all the times he had killed.

Ever so slowly Nick took a step forward.  He felt LaCroix' hands drop
from his shoulders, which hardened his resolve, and he took another step
toward the two women.

"Nick!" Natalie called, only to find LaCroix immediately behind her,
pulling her chin up and her jaw closed.

He turned, his lips parting when he saw how his sire held Natalie.
LaCroix would break her neck if he changed his mind now.  And when she
woke, she would kill the two women savagely, mindlessly, out of hunger
and pure instinct.  He couldn't let that happen.  He had to do this, and
he quickly turned back to the two women, then flew forward until he
stood directly in front of them.  Neither so much as flinched from his
quick approach.

"Very good, Nicholas.  Now choose one," he said, still holding Natalie.
He turned to whisper in his daughter's ear.  "Do not speak, my dear.
Watch...and only watch."

She started slightly when he abruptly released her, and she
instinctively tried to move forward, only for his powerful hands to grip
her arms again.

"Not just yet," LaCroix whispered, leaning forward so that his face
nearly touched the side of hers.  "Watch only."

Nick paused in front of the two women, half listening to his sire and
half trying to decide who to pick.  The two were very much alike--both
had dark brown hair, and both were about Natalie's height and weight.
He suspected they were sisters, or perhaps cousins.  The one difference
was that, outwardly, one appeared absolutely thrilled about doing this,
while the second woman appeared somewhat nervous, perhaps doubtful.

The choice was obvious, and he smiled somewhat frighteningly at the
latter, the more nervous of the two.  He walked slowly around her and
put his hands lightly on her shoulders, pausing again to regain his
focus.  If he was being forced to go through with this, he would do it
simply, quickly, and calmly.

Nick carefully pulled the woman's hair away from the side of her neck
with one hand, and his other hand snaked around her to pull her head to
one side.  He didn't want to do this...and yet he did.  He paused,
surprised when the woman didn't pull away from his touch in the
slightest.  In fact, her hands reached up, one touching his arm and the
other gently reaching toward his neck, as if to help him.  It made him
hesitate.

"Please?" she asked, almost turning, but she couldn't.  "I do wish this.
Please."

At the soft, accented plea, Nick glanced up to where Natalie and LaCroix
stood, and gave the latter a quick glare before he abruptly struck,
biting into the woman's neck and taking her blood.  He drained her blood
quickly, trying to ignore the exquisite sensation of the hot blood in
his mouth and throat...and the raw pleasure the woman now felt.  Her
nervousness had completely vanished.  She did, indeed, want to die.

Finally the woman's heart fumbled and stopped, and he let her fall
slowly to the hard, cold floor.  He felt ecstasy and hatred all at once
and made his way slowly off to the side, wishing there was something,
anything nearby to lean against.

"Very good," LaCroix approved, smiling.  "Now, Natalie, take the other."

Natalie felt the hands holding her back drop away, and she stood there
for a moment, her eyes not on her waiting victim, but on Nick.  All she
wanted to do was go up to him and pull him into an embrace, but she knew
LaCroix would not tolerate it.

"You may go to him after."

She closed her eyes for a moment, shifting her line of sight back to her
provided meal.  That's how she had to think of it.  Or like performing
some sort of surgery.  Something that had to be done.  At the same time,
it was the exact opposite.  This was, for all intents and purposes,
murder...even if the woman did want to die at the hands or, more
precisely, the teeth of a vampire.  Her victim hadn't budged an inch,
and looked at her, waiting, not even giving her dead companion a glance.

She flew forward like Nick had done, but instead of walking around the
smiling woman--younger than her by a good decade--she reached a hand out
to touch the woman's chin, guiding her head slowly to the side.  She was
struck by the warmth, the pure heat of the mortal's skin--not merely
warm, but hot, like a soothingly hot water bottle, or a steaming cup of
hot chocolate.

Not wanting to draw it out or take any more pleasure than she suspected
she would anyhow, Natalie let herself change.  A split second later, she
struck, burying her fangs in the side of the woman's neck, pulling her
close as she drained her.  In moments, the woman was dead.  It had been
so very easy, too easy, and like Nick, she let the woman's body drop
carefully to the ground.

LaCroix had walked slowly over to his daughter while she killed the
woman, a rather pleased grin on his lips.  Moving to her side and
examining her, he became even more pleased.  "Barely a drop spilt.  Well
done, my dear."  He squatted down next to her victim and turned the
woman's face toward him.  "Youth.  Never to grow old.  Not them, and not
us."  He let the woman's head loll back, so that the rather tidy
punctures Natalie had made were facing him.  "You may join Nicholas and
leave.  I do not believe I need to teach you how to deal with this--I
suspect you've already had considerable practice at covering up similar
matters."

Natalie's attention snapped back to the women, and she reached into her
coat and pulled out the UV light.

LaCroix sneered upon seeing the device.  "What is that for?"

"To destroy any cells we may have left behind.  Especially Nick's, since
they have his DNA on file--in fact, I'm sure that's one reason they want
the samples."

LaCroix' anger melted away and he took the device, smiling somewhat.
"It would be rather efficient at destroying any evidence, wouldn't it?"

"It should.  I'm waiting on some test results to know exactly how much
time is required, so for now, I'd suggest a long exposure, just to be
sure.  A very long exposure.  And I'll need it back."

"Of course."

"Natalie needs to talk to you about those files," Nick said,
approaching, his gaze torn between her, his sire, and the two corpses.

"Not right now.  Later tonight, or perhaps in the morning?"

"Whatever," he answered, turned, and started for the closest exit.

Natalie hesitated a moment, but when LaCroix silently laughed at Nick's
dismal mood, she rushed after him.  She didn't catch up to him until
they were back at the loft, where he had pulled a bottle of blood out of
the refrigerator and was drinking straight from it.  "Nick?"

He lowered the bottle to find Natalie right in front of him.  "Damn him
to hell!"

When Nick prepared to throw the half-full bottle across the loft,
Natalie wrenched it from his hands and put it back, out of sight.
Returning to him, she found him seething with anger and hatred; not that
she blamed him.  She wasn't all that thrilled herself.  LaCroix had
manipulate her to force Nick to kill.  This was her fault.  She had
asked if Nick could be there.  If she hadn't...  If she had just killed
that first time...  "Nick, I'm sorry...so sorry.  I didn't think he'd do
that."

"Nor did I," he admitted, still reeling from the woman's blood.  "Or
maybe I did," he added in a whisper.  He wanted more, needed something
to stamp out the woman's sweet, willing, and oh so warm blood.  He
started back to the refrigerator, only for Natalie to slide effortlessly
in front of him and grab his arms.  Natalie...  She had taken a life and
watched him do so as well.

"Nick--"

He pulled out of her grasp and put one hand on her shoulder, his other
hand up to her face, his fingers stroking her jawline.  "Shh, Nat, don't
worry about me."

"I'll worry about you if I want."

"I should be the one worrying about you, comforting you, not--"

Natalie wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace.  "I'll
be okay."  She closed her eyes, pausing a moment, then added, "Or at
least I think I will.  I'm about as well off as any sane person can
possibly be after killing someone, which..."

Nick held Natalie tight, not wanting to let her go.  Even her scent, her
presence, still calmed him as it had when she had been mortal.

"At least I knew, more or less, what I was in for tonight," she
whispered.  "I had time to somewhat prepare.  You didn't.  And if how I
feel is any indication..."

"How do you feel?" he asked, pulling back, forcing a little bit of space
between their faces.

"Invigorated," she answered, barely able to meet his eyes, and then only
for a moment.  "Invigorated like never before.  And powerful, strong,
like I could do anything.  And it was almost...orgasmic.  It's
really...strange, but not."

Nick leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against Natalie's.

"Is it always like that?" she asked.

"Always.  And not only from killing, but...using what we are can--"

"Spiral into killing."  Feeling him tense, she corrected, "Or at least
the desire to."

"It's complicated."

"And to think I've been telling you it's simple for years."  She smiled
slightly at that, but it vanished quickly.  "And, ah, was I always so
warm to you?  Until tonight I hadn't actually touched a living human,
mortal, whatever...not really.  I didn't realise that warmth, *my*
warmth, could be so tempting."

"Irresistibly so."

Again her lips twitched up into a smile, but this time it vanished at a
completely different thought.  "Work."

"Work," he repeated.  "Schanke...  I wish I could call in sick."

"Why don't you?"

"Vampires don't get sick.  It would only start up who knows what.
Probably rumours about me taking time off to murder people.  With no
idea just how accurate they'd be."

She couldn't think of anything helpful to say, so she simply held onto
him, slowly rubbing his back, trying to get him to relax.

Nick kissed her on the cheek, then pulled back further, holding her at
arm's reach.  "I'm going to leave for work."

She was a little surprised.  While they both had to work later, there
was more than enough time for him to drive to the precinct if he wanted.
She realised what he planned to do a moment before he said it.

"I'm just going to drive for a bit.  Drive and think."

Nodding, she took in a deep breath and didn't protest as he backed away,
released her, grabbed the Caddy's keys, and left.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (059/111)

"Finally," Schanke breathed when his partner came into view, nearly ten
minutes late for his shift.  "Where were you, Knight?"

"Driving.  Lost track of time," he muttered, pulling his coat off.

"Don't bother with that--we have a case.  I was starting to think I'd
have to do this one solo."  Schanke narrowed his eyes slightly.  "Hmm.
There's something different about you."

Nick was a bit disoriented at arriving at the precinct only to need to
leave again.  And doubly so at his partner's comment.  Then he saw Cohen
looking at him a bit oddly and was thankful for getting to leave before
his partner realised exactly what was different and said something there
in the precinct.

They were in the Caddy and on the road with barely enough time for
Schanke to tell him where they were going.

"You look awfully normal tonight."

"I'm always normal, Schanke.  For a vampire, anyway."

"No, I mean you're rather...rosy, your face, even your hands...  It's
weird.  What's with that?"

"Nothing."

"I've never seen you--"

"It's nothing, Schanke."

"Nothing as in nothing, or nothing as in Natalie?" he asked, turning
toward his partner...and getting no response.  "It's Nat, isn't it?
See, you two *are* good together.  It even brings a bit of colour to--"

"Skank, please."

"Okay, okay, I get it.  But people are gonna talk...really talk.  Might
want to, you know, clear that up somehow."  He shifted.  "I mean, first
thing most people are going to think is that maybe you killed someone."

He tensed, his hands gripping the steering wheel.  That was exactly why
he looked healthy and rosy and 'normal'.  He had indeed killed someone.

"Yeah, not good for people to think that about you," he replied, taking
his partner's reaction for worry.  "Natalie all bright and rosy, too?"

Nick shot a glare over at his partner.

"Guess that's a yes.  Sorry; I'll drop it.  I know how much you love
talking about your personal life," he quipped, then kept quiet until
they were close to the address.  "Nice homes.  Figured as much,
considering that the guy was found by his housekeeper."

"Found by the housekeeper?"

"Yeah.  A live-in.  She was out doing errands.  She came back; the
mister was dead."

"Cohen mention how?"

"Nope.  Just that Natalie will have to make that call.  She gonna be
late, too?"

Nick ignored the question, and Schanke apparently took the hint--he
wasn't going to answer.  It wasn't much longer before they saw flashing
lights in the distance, then they abruptly came up to the activity.
Natalie's car was already there, and Nick started toward the house
before his partner even managed to get his door closed.

Inside, Nick quickly found Natalie and the victim in the living room,
and was surprised by the lack of blood scent in the air--but also
thankful for its absence.  He didn't want either Natalie or himself to
be reminded of what they had done not much more than an hour earlier.
Not that a dead body wouldn't do that all on its own.

Natalie turned the instant she felt the presence of another vampire, and
found Nick barely opening the door.  "Hmm, where's your partner?" she
asked.

Nick didn't immediately reply, his attention on her appearance.  He
hadn't noticed it earlier, but she appeared, as his partner said he
did--normal.  She looked healthy, her skin bright and slightly pink.
Natalie's skin-tone was rosier now than it had been as a mortal.  "He's
coming," he eventually said, in answer to her question.  "Schanke--"

"What about me?" he said, arriving, staring at Nick with a touch of a
scowl.  "Coulda waited for me, Knight."  Passing his partner, he focused
in on Natalie.  "See, look, I thought so."

"Thought what, Skank?" she asked him, then quickly told them, "And don't
touch *anything* unless you have gloves on."  The last was said
pointedly to Schanke, who was staring at a picture frame on an end table
and moving toward it.  "Not sure yet, but I'm thinking murder...poison.
From what I can tell, he was partway through lunch when he felt ill,
tossed what he ate, then was coming in here for the phone when he
collapsed and, well, died."

"Lunch?" Schanke asked, glancing toward the open front door and the
rather dark sky.  "It's--"

"The housekeeper was gone on errands in the afternoon.  Brought dinner
back with her and found him."

"How do you know that?" he asked, curious.

"Gotta love my newly sensitive ears.  Sometimes they are quite useful,"
she said with a smile.  "Now, what had you thought, Schanke?"

"Er."  He shifted, glanced back at Nick, then muttered, "Just that you
two are practically glowing.  And now I'm going to go find the
housekeeper, before you do more than glare at me."  With that, he
straightened, turned, and left.

Natalie felt a bit ill at Schanke's comment, but relaxed when Nick
touched her shoulder.  "He noticed?"

"Yeah.  He's attributing it to us, though," he said, waving his free
hand between them.  Then, in a very soft whisper that no one but Natalie
would hear, he told her, "His only other thought was what actually
happened.  He also mentioned that others might notice...and think the
same thing."

Natalie tensed further at that.  The only plus side was she could almost
feel some of the newly acquired colour drain out of her face.

"It's okay.  I think most everyone will lean the way he is."  He smiled
slightly, then gestured toward the body.  "What else have you found?  Or
heard?"

"Wife is conveniently out of town, supposed to arrive back this morning.
And apparently her father is ill and quite rich."

"Motive?"

"No idea.  That's your department," she replied.  "Won't know what type
of poison--or even for certain whether it was poison, although I'm
pretty sure it was--until we get him back to the morgue and run some
tests."

"You want some help with that?"

"Not sure yet, but I think I'll be fine."  She looked away at that.

He, however, pulled her up onto her feet and turned her toward him, at
which he touched her face with his fingers.  "Natalie--"

She raised her hand, pushing Nick's away with her arm.  His touch was
too much right now.  "Not here, Nick," she said, her eyes glowing
faintly gold and she again averted her eyes.  "I feel a bit...off."
Then, in a faint whisper, she said, "And I want you.  Right here and
now."

He was drawn forward at her words, but held back at the last moment
before kissing her on the neck.  They definitely couldn't do this here
or now.  Not standing over a possible homicide victim.  Stepping back,
he let her resume her work without his distraction, and he went to find
Schanke...who had apparently been watching.

"Yep, you two definitely have chemistry," he told his partner, who wore
a somewhat sheepish smile.  Approaching, he continued, "Possibly more
than Mr. Hillcrest and his wife.  According to the housekeeper, her
father's--"

"Rich and ill.  Natalie told me."

"Now that is just not fair.  I was looking forward to telling you that!"
He paused, then asked, "You know she's flying back in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"What about that Mr. Hillcrest had been sick lately?  Headaches, tired,
generally in pain?  Out of it?"

He shook his head.

"Good.  You should see the kitchen counter--over-the-counter pain meds
galore.  Even some Vicodin and Percocet--you know, that stuff dentists
give you when you're really..."

Nick raised his eyebrows at that.

"Guess not.  Vampires don't really need dentists, do they?  Anyway, he
must have been desperate for some pain relief.  In the bathroom there's
some other stuff for, er, other things you probably don't have to deal
with.  In other words, the guy was a walking medicine cabinet."

"And that means he could have overdosed on something, too."

"Yep.  And Natalie will probably have to test it all for contamination."

"Assuming this is even a homicide."

"Well, yeah, but--"

"Where's the housekeeper?" he asked.  He hadn't seen anyone yet besides
other cops and forensics.

"Her room.  Come on."  Schanke led them up the stairs and to a large and
nicely decorated room, where a Hispanic woman in her thirties sat on the
bed.  "Ms. Almaguer, this is my partner, Detective Knight."

The woman looked up, saw Nick, and almost before her eyes went wide, she
crossed herself, murmuring, "Lord have mercy!"

Nick felt a sharp stabbing pain over his heart, at which he
instinctively closed his eyes and backed away until the door frame
stopped his flight with a thud.

"Don't worry, it's okay.  He's not going to hurt you," Schanke said when
the woman prepared to repeat her action.  Once she had lowered her hands
to her lap, he turned to his partner and whispered, "You okay?  I didn't
know that actually worked on you guys."

"Fine," Nick managed, then forced himself to turn back toward the woman,
who seemed absolutely terrified of him, her heart speeding along
extraordinarily fast, even considering she had found her employer dead.
"And, yes, that works quite well, Skank."

"Now, Ms. Almaguer..." Schanke started, drawing her attention away from
his partner, the vampire.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"The acetaminophen was tainted," Natalie said the moment Nick and
Schanke opened the doors to the morgue several hours later.

Schanke was caught off guard when she didn't even turn around, but
asked, "Isn't that awfully quick?"

"Maybe a little, but I noticed right off that the capsules could have
been tampered with.  They didn't look firmly sealed, nor were they as
full as they should have been.  Still waiting to hear back on the rest
of the samples, but there's no acetaminophen in them at all."

"So they're poison?" Nick asked.

"Arsenic.  And that's what he died from, arsenic poisoning.  Matches his
symptoms.  Not pretty.  Plenty enough missing from the bottle to kill
him, assuming it started with a full compliment."  Now she turned
around, although she didn't quite meet the eyes of either man.  "Did the
housekeeper buy them?"

"According to Ms. Almaguer, Mr. Hillcrest bought them himself," Schanke
answered.  "Said he got most of what had been on the counter over this
last week."

"After Mrs. Hillcrest went out of town."  Nick sighed.  "To London,
visiting a friend from college.  And we've already confirmed she's been
there the entire week."

"Gotta love that time difference; not sure the friend does, after her
early morning wake-up call.  We're actually off to the airport to pick
her up next...see what she knows."

Schanke looked at Natalie curiously, noticing her eyes appeared a bit
different than usual.  When she turned away from them again, he started
forward, concerned.

"Natalie?" he asked, approaching, then he reached out to touch her arm,
only to find fingers wrap around his wrist in a vice grip.

Nick had flown to his partner and grabbed his wrist the instant he
realised what the other man was about to do.

Schanke winced at the sharp pain in his wrist, and tried to pull his
hand back, at which Nick finally released him.  "Knight, that really--"

"Schanke," he started, pulling his keys out and handing them to his
partner.  "I'll meet you at the airport.  Wait in the Caddy."

He nearly protested...until he saw hints of gold in his partner's eyes.

"Please."

Taking the keys, he hesitated, his eyes locked with his partner's for
what felt like several minutes, even though it was mere seconds.  Then
he nodded and left, glancing back at the two right before leaving.

"Thanks," she whispered once Schanke's heart had faded from her senses.

"Was it the autopsy?" he carefully asked.

"Well, that sure didn't help," she started, then turned back to Nick,
her eyes bright, like they had been right before she killed the woman
earlier that night.  "Actually, I barely remember doing the autopsy."

"Earlier, what we did," he whispered, not wanting to spell it out.

"Yeah."

He pulled Natalie into a tight embrace, burying his face into her hair
and pulling hers into his shoulder.

"This isn't helping," she said, both wanting to push him away and to
hold onto him with every ounce of strength she could muster.

"It doesn't matter.  Take what you want, what you need," he whispered
into her ear.

She wrenched herself out of his hold, stepping back from him, her eyes
blazing with need and her fangs ready to bite.  "I want...need more than
simply your blood, Nick.  Ever since you held me after we got back to
the loft.  I know we're not at home, but..."

"Then take me.  Take whatever you want."

Natalie stepped forward, nearly kissed him on the lips, then flew to the
door.  She locked it, her eyes not leaving his, then her lips
unconsciously twisted up into a smile as she started slowly back toward
him.

He closed his eyes when Natalie touched her fingers to his lips, then
kissed his neck first lightly, then hungrily.  He returned her kisses,
then felt her hand slide down the front of his throat and to the buttons
on his shirt.  Finally she kissed him on the lips to put some space
between them so she could undress him.

At that point, neither could have held back even if they had wanted to.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (060/111)

"Love, my dear listeners, is a double-edged sword...wonderful and
terrible at once, may it be love for the quintessential lover, child, or
friend.  What scars have acts of love given you?"

"Just my brain going to mush listening to you," Schanke muttered.  He'd
turn the engine off, but he didn't know how long his partner would be,
and he wanted to keep the heater going.  He'd simply turn the radio off,
but Nick had been rather touchy about it lately.

"What do you let those you care about get away with?  An affair?
Breaking laws, little and large?  Perhaps even...murder?"

Schanke swallowed at that.  In a way, LaCroix was pretty much summing up
his and Nick's night.  Or, well, his partner's; not so much his.  He
started to reach for the knob to switch the vampire off, not caring what
his partner would do when he noticed, but stopped when LaCroix took a
caller.

"What do you say, caller?" LaCroix said, now waiting for the person on
the line to speak.

"Well, actually, I'd like to--" started a woman's rather business-like
voice.

"Ah, another historian," he said snidely, his distaste for the caller
coming across so clearly over the radio that Schanke could imagine his
expression.

"Yes, actually, and I'd--"

LaCroix chuckled.  "If you are truly so curious...you are certainly
welcome to come here and ask your questions...in person.  Now,
good-bye."

"Idiot," Schanke murmured.  That was the second person LaCroix had
unceremoniously cut off in the past fifteen minutes.  Oddly, he
understood why.  He almost felt sorry for him, for the constant
questions.  He knew Nick had gotten his own share of this, but at least
his were all letters and could be tossed in the trash easily enough.
When it became apparent LaCroix planned to try another caller, Schanke
finally decided he had had enough and he switched the radio off at the
precise moment the driver's side door opened, startling him.  "Geez,
Knight!"

Nick grinned down at his partner while the other man turned off the
Caddy's engine.

"You could have at least knocked on the window or something.  How'd you
find me, anyway?"

"Not too many people listen to LaCroix at the airport."

"Probably not," he muttered, getting out and shutting the door.  "That
guy is like a television aerial.  Only manages to get one channel,
though--you."

Nick froze outright at that, glancing away.

"I mean, his topics tonight are love, law breaking, and murder.  And,
let's see...the last half hour confirmed that Mr. Hillcrest was
definitely murdered, and I'm pretty sure you just got lucky in the
autopsy room.  Oh, and friends and family that let things slide, which I
guess is me, since I'm not telling no one about that last."

Schanke paused, glanced his partner over, and narrowed his eyes.  "You
missed a button, partner."

"No, I didn't," he answered, looking away.

Schanke reached toward the undone button and discovered...a hole where
the button should have been right before his hand was swatted aside.
Then he noticed two neat little punctures in the other man's neck, far
too close together to be the same bite, and he reached up and poked his
partner's collar down, only for Nick to grab his arm.  "Oh ho, those are
nice, partner.  Got a matching set, it looks like."  Seeing him glaring
again with gold-tinged eyes, he asked, "Come on, just trying to poke
some fun."

Nick relaxed, but pushed Schanke's hand away from his neck and let go.

"And thanks for the matching set of bruises, too, partner," he said,
massaging his arm.  "Those'll be interesting to explain to Myra."  Then,
his joking manner replaced by concern, he asked, "Why did you do that
earlier, anyway?  Something wrong with Natalie?"

Nick glanced away again.  "She's still getting used to doing autopsies
as a vampire.  They make her a little more jittery than...before," he
lied and started around the Caddy to the sidewalk and airport doors.

"Oh, that's right, you didn't go over this time to play assistant, did
you?"

Ignoring the question, Nick continued forward.

Schanke fidgeted while he followed.  "You know, I could cancel my
vacation.  Myra would be a bit upset--it's one of those family holiday
things down in the States--but neither of us really wants to go.  Jenny
does, but she'd be just as happy staying here.  Well, maybe not quite as
happy, since it wouldn't get her out of school, but--"

"I'm sure I'll be fine on my own, Skank.  Besides, we should have this
wrapped up by then...and it'd be easier to help Nat, too."

"You see, that's the thing.  It sounds like you'll be getting a temp
partner while I'm gone."

"What?"  Surprised, Nick spun abruptly to give his partner his full
attention.

"I know.  It's only a week, and I thought maybe Cohen would suggest you
take the week off, too, considering all that's happened, but nope."

"Who is it, or have you heard?"

"No idea.  Cohen just said 'He better not do that to his partner while
you're gone,' tonight after she told me about the case...and found out
you were late.  Oh, and something about you 'not making a good
impression,' whatever that means.  You know anyone who's without a
partner?  I'm sure there's gotta be someone, but I just can't
remember..."

Nick shook his head.  No one at the 96th was without a partner, and he
hadn't seen anyone in subbing for anyone.  At least not on nights.  "I
guess I'll be stuck with whoever they give me, Schanke.  I'm sure Nat'll
be fine before you leave."  He nodded toward the doors.  "What about
Mrs. Hillcrest's flight?"

"Should have arrived already."  He pulled out a photograph he had taken
from the house earlier and handed it to Nick.  "Haven't seen her come
out yet, though."

He glanced at it, a pretty woman with shoulder length blonde hair.
Almost immediately a woman came out the doors, pulling a suitcase and
starting to the side likely to wave down a taxi.  "Now she has," he
said, starting toward the woman and pulling out his badge.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"We had to release her," Schanke said glumly when Natalie dropped by the
precinct.  "Couldn't do much else--at least not right now.  I still
think she did it.  Or she hired someone to do it."

Natalie looked over to Nick, who seemed to be holding back.  "Nick?"

"She did admit her sister's husband died suspiciously a year ago," he
said.  "But I don't think she had anything to do with this.  Whatever
the case, we don't have any reason to hold her."

"She went home," Schanke added.

Natalie winced.  "Well, we need to go back to the house.  Only that one
bottle was contaminated, and while that's probably what killed him in
the end...he was sick from other sources first.  He had a lot of arsenic
in his system, and I mean a *lot*.  Something else had to be
poisoned...something we didn't collect.  I need more samples--water,
foods he ate...and if she went home..."  She saw Schanke shift, and she
knew why.  It was late--the two detectives were probably about ready to
leave.  "Or someone needs to, and I can't really go to the house alone."

Nick nodded, relaxing with a smile.  "I'll go, Skank.  You can go home."

"Of course he'll go," he muttered under his breath and went for his
coat, although the other two had heard him clearly as if he had yelled
it.

"We'll call if we find anything," Nick told his partner.

"Find anything where?"

"Under the sink," she said, smiling.

"Or in a closet?" Schanke whispered, immediately flinching back as she
stepped forward and hit his arm, although not hard enough to add another
bruise.  Thankfully.  "Okay, okay, I'm done.  Really.  For now, at
least."  He slunk back away from them and left, grinning.

"I take it he noticed?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, he noticed," Nick said with a smile.  Then he tensed and
whispered, "He also noticed that LaCroix' antenna is tuned to me, and
only me."  He shook the thought off and grabbed his coat.  "Do you have
what you need?"

"Already in your car."

His smile returned.  "Yours is back at the morgue, isn't it?"

"Yep," she answered, starting outside and to the Caddy.  "I'd suggest we
fly, but then I'd be a bad influence."  Turning to find him apparently
considering it, she cut his thought off, "And no, I'm not suggesting it.
It'd be a pain to get the samples back."  She pulled open the passenger
side door and got in, moving her bag onto her lap.  Once he got in and
started the car up, she asked, "So, what do you really think?"

"What I said--she didn't do it."

"Not directly, but?"

"Her father's sick, rich.  Her brother-in-law died young.  Someone is
killing off potential heirs, trying to get the inheritance to go
somewhere in particular.  But I don't think the wife has anything to do
with this."

"Wonder what the will says?" she mused.

"According to Mrs. Hillcrest, it's split equally between his three
daughters and their husbands, given separately to each individual."

"And the third's husband?  He dead, too?"

"Yeah.  Three years ago.  Car accident."  He paused, then told her,
"According to the wife, and already confirmed.  She appeared genuinely
upset.  Even Schanke thought that."

"But he thinks she's involved somehow?  Or more involved than you do?"

"Something like that."  The rest of their trip was spent in silence.

Arriving back at the house, he led the way up to the door.  The first
thing he did was see if he could find a key, and that was easy.  The key
was in a plant pot off to one side of the door.  It wasn't even fully
out of sight, as if it had been hurriedly put back the last time it was
used.

"Nick?"

He pulled out an evidence bag, opened it, and used it to carefully pick
up the end, which was fully out of the dirt.  In a moment, it was in the
bag, sealed, and held up in front of Natalie.  "Noticed there wasn't a
security system."

"And if it's not the housekeeper, someone would have likely broken in."

"But there's no sign of that."  He nodded, then rang the bell and
glanced over at Natalie, who looked a bit nervous.  She didn't typically
go back to the scene with him or Schanke or any of the other detectives,
not when someone was still there.  When the door opened, Nick barely had
time to flash his badge before the housekeeper crossed herself again.

Natalie uncontrollably backed away and down the front steps, shocked by
how awful she suddenly felt.  She had never actually asked Nick about
how he reacted to this--only crosses and the like.  She knew it 'worked'
on vampires, but not how well.

Nick managed to hold his position, although he did look away for a
moment to regain his calm before asking, "Ms. Almaguer, may we come in?
We need to speak with Mrs. Hillcrest."

"Wait here," she said, shutting the door in Nick's face.

He turned around at that, finding Natalie halfway down the walkway
toward the sidewalk.  "Nat?  You okay?"

"Sorry, wasn't prepared for that," she said and started back up the
steps.

He pulled her next to him once she reached him, holding her tight while
the door was opened again.  A blonde woman now stood there, wearing a
robe over a nightgown.  "Mrs. Hillcrest--"

"Detective Knight.  Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, there is.  This is Dr. Natalie Lambert.  We'd like to come in and
ask you some additional questions."

"Of course," and Mrs. Hillcrest stood back to let them in and walk past.
Once she had closed the door behind them, she asked, "Would either of
you like some coffee?"  Then her attention stopped on Nick.  "Oh, I
forgot, you're that vampire detective, aren't you?  You probably can't
drink coffee..."

He winced at her description of him being 'that vampire detective'.
"Thanks for offering, but...no, thanks."

"What about you, Dr. Lambert?" she asked, starting toward the kitchen.

"No, I'm fine," Natalie said, glancing toward Nick and pulling slightly
away from him to follow.

"I hope you don't mind if I have some?"  She turned to see their
response, and Nick shook his head.  She went to the coffee maker, which
had a pot ready, and poured herself a mug and added some creamer.  Then
she sat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and took a drink from
her coffee.  Once the two had also pulled out chairs and sat down,
Natalie placing her bag on the floor next to her chair, Mrs. Hillcrest
asked the detective, "Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

Nick glanced to Natalie, and she hesitated a moment before replying,
"Actually the first questions are mine."  Getting a shrug, she asked,
"Have you felt ill lately?  Maybe a bit...off?"

"I'm not sure what that--"

"It's very pertinent, Mrs. Hillcrest," Nick told her seriously, cutting
her off.  "Your husband appears to have been poisoned...and from more
than one source."

"What do you mean?" she asked, incredulous.

"Exactly that," he told her.  "Have you felt ill either since returning
or before you left, or did you feel better while you were away?"

Mrs. Hillcrest considered that for a moment, then answered, "No, I
don't...  I'm not sure."  She hesitated, taking another large drink from
her coffee.  "Come to think of it, I have felt less tired since I left
for London, fewer headaches, that sort of thing, but I'm assuming that's
from getting to see an old friend.  After all, we haven't seen each
other for several years, and--"

"What did you and your husband eat in common?" Natalie asked.

"Most everything, pretty much.  Paul had a bit of a sweet tooth--he'd
have cake after dinner, or ice cream, or something sweet--but other than
that, we ate and drank the same things.  And Paul doesn't drink wine,
but I do."  She realised her slip, and stood and went to the coffee
maker and filled her mug full again, adding a bit more creamer.  "Or he
didn't.  I'm sorry, I'm not at all used to the idea of him being gone."
She spilt the creamer as she forced back tears.

"Don't apologise," he said.  "Dr. Lambert would like to take samples of
your water and food items."

"Including the coffee and creamer," she added.

Mrs. Hillcrest glanced at her cup, then took a step back before turning
to face Natalie.  "Are you saying--"

"It's probably better if you don't drink any more of it," she told her.
"I'd even suggest perhaps eating out and buying bottled water until the
results come back, maybe even staying elsewhere for the time being."

Mrs. Hillcrest became nervous at that, asking, "And how long will that
be?"

"A few hours at the earliest, tonight at the latest.  We know what we're
looking for, at least."

"Which is?"

Natalie looked to Nick, who shook his head, and she answered, "I'm
sorry, we can't--"

"It's still an open investigation," he said.

Natalie grabbed her bag, stood, and put it on the table.  Opening it,
she pulled out several bags and glass test tubes.  "Is it all right if
I--"

"Of course.  Take whatever you want," Mrs. Hillcrest nodded, her voice
cracking as she sat back down.

Nick pulled out the bagged key he had found outside.  He would need to
ask who knew about it and mention he had taken it.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (061/111)

Natalie found herself in the bullpen at the 96th precinct.  It seemed to
be shift changeover, the precinct full and loud...not only in the sense
of being busy, but there were far more heartbeats than usual, and they
were also far more hurried than usual.  Panicked, even.  She closed her
eyes to shut out as much of the activity as possible, but it only
amplified what she could hear and even taste in the air.

"Natalie?" Schanke asked, reaching a hand out to her and lightly
touching her arm while he started to walk around her.

At the blazingly hot touch, she spun toward it, her eyes immediately
changing and her fangs descending.  Her far hand immediately snatched
Schanke's wrist, twisting it to cause him pain and to cry out while she
snarled at him.  When he didn't back off--not that he could with her
powerful grip--she struck, sinking her fangs into his throat and
draining him until he dropped to the ground like a sack of grain, his
body slinking fluidly to the floor and against his desk.

Then she felt another touch, a harsher grip; someone had grabbed her
from behind.  She easily broke free of the mortal man's weak hold and...

Natalie started awake, ending her dream early, gripping Nick beneath her
tightly for a moment, basking in the feeling of his bare skin against
hers.

Not wanting to wake him, she forced herself to relax.  This was the
third time that day she had had this awful dream, although the first two
times she hadn't woken until later.  She had killed half of those in the
precinct before she was finally, she assumed, shot in the heart with a
wooden bullet and taken down permanently.

Glancing at the clock, she found it was nearly three in the afternoon.
Plenty enough time to fall back to sleep and have that horrible dream
again.  Great.  Each time she felt worse about it--particularly Schanke.
Most of the others in her dream had been random mortals and not the
faces of those who actually worked at the 96th precinct.

And yet his action in her dream had been identical to what she suspected
he had planned to do in the morgue the previous night.  Nick had stopped
him, and she hadn't thought to ask why.  Would she have attacked Schanke
then if he hadn't stopped him from touching her, trying to comfort her,
make sure she was all right?

She had a horrible feeling that she would have--or at least tried.
There in the morgue Nick could have stopped her, but in her dream he
hadn't been there.  Nick wasn't allowed in the precinct when day shift
was there...but she was.  That was just...stupid, as far as she was
concerned.  Especially since she could tell that, physically, she was
operating more on instinct than anything else.  She reacted before she
had time to think, both in her dream and, unfortunately, in reality.
Nick, at least, was typically able to think before he reacted, and even
then, he could more easily stop himself.  She couldn't.  And she knew
it.

She didn't want to hurt someone unintentionally--especially not Schanke,
of all the possible people she worked with.  Had she simply been lucky
this first week as a vampire?  Or was it merely a dream, prompted by her
worry of what she could now do?  She had far more expected to dream
about the woman she had killed not even twenty-four hours before.  But,
no, she had barely thought about that, to be honest.  It was all so
horribly backward.

Nick was still sleeping soundly, and she pulled gently away from him.
She nearly touched his smiling lips as she got up, but stopped herself,
not wanting to wake him or disturb his content features.  While that
slight smile had been common the past week she had been a vampire,
especially in the afternoon like now, over the past few months it had
been all too rare, and she couldn't bear to spoil it by waking him.

She quickly grabbed her robe and exited the room before she fell apart
from the vivid visions she had seen in her dream.  Once in the doorway,
she flew downstairs, paused, then turned and flew over to the
refrigerator.  She needed to be calm, and the only two things that could
make that happen now were Nick and blood.

She pulled out a bottle--a full bottle--and drank deeply straight from
it.  Immediately she felt better.  She had always thought Nick was a bit
impatient or even slightly barbaric for doing that...or even thought it
was simply a guy thing, regardless of century, or whether it was milk or
blood or beer.  Now, however, she realised it was more than mere
impatience...it was her first thought, her new instincts kicking in
again.

And, she realised to her horror, it was also somewhere between being
socially conforming by drinking out of a glass and biting into someone's
throat, as far as satisfaction value.  At that, she took the bottle to
the counter, pulled out a glass, and filled it full.  She desperately
wanted to distance herself from her dreadful dream.

"Natalie?" Nick asked, walking slowly down the stairs, tying his robe
shut.

She turned at her name, the bottle still gripped in her hand.  His smile
was gone, replaced by concern and a scrunched up forehead.  "I'm sorry,
I didn't want to wake you."

"Are you all right?"

"Ah, not really," she said, turning back to the counter.  Putting the
bottle down, she reached for the glass and took a large drink from it
before telling him, "Nightmare.  Bad one."

"I've had a couple of those myself today."  He stopped his approach a
few steps short, then specified, "From killing that woman.  I can still
hear LaCroix egging me on to kill again."

"Mine's...ah, mine's not about that," she whispered, purposely keeping
her attention on something other than Nick.  "At shift change from night
shift to day shift--or it could be the other way around, I'm not sure--I
murder half the precinct."  She paused, feeling tears start to come.
"Starting with Schanke."

Nick moved up behind Natalie and gently turned her, pulling her into an
embrace when she started to weep.  "Shh, it's okay.  It was only a
dream."

She clutched his back tight, and she could feel herself shaking.  "But
it all seemed so real," she whispered.  "Like I had actually, really
killed him, actually tasted his blood."

"It's okay, Natalie.  It wasn't real."

"The dream ended with them shooting me, killing me."

He held her tighter at that, burying his head in her neck.  "It was only
a dream."

"But could it happen?  Could I really..."

He shook his head as he cut her off.  "No.  You'd--"

"Then why did you stop Schanke from touching me last night?  You know,
that's what prompted me to kill him in my dream."  She pushed back
slightly from Nick.  "All he did was touch my arm, and then I spun and
hissed at him, grabbing him so that he couldn't move away, and in a
split second, I attacked and killed him, drained him."

"You wouldn't have killed him," he assured her.  "You would have
probably just startled him--badly--by snarling or hissing at him.
Nothing more than that.  I only stopped you because I'm not sure he was
quite ready for that."

She looked up at him and saw him nearly smiling.

"Nat, you have a lot more control than I think you realise.  Certainly
more than I have."  He kissed her on her temple, holding her tighter for
a moment.  "And I think I can absolutely guarantee you won't go on a
murdering rampage in the precinct."

She felt a bit calmer at his words.  It sounded so absurd coming from
him and put that way...even though that's exactly what had happened in
her dream.

"Come back up to bed," he said, tugging her back with him toward the
stairs.

At this, Natalie sharply shook her head and pulled away.  "No, I can't.
I don't think there's any way I can go back to sleep.  I'm worrying
about too many things."

"Such as?" he said, taking a step back toward her.

"Why I'm not under the same kind of scrutiny as you, for one."

"Because they already know your past," he easily replied.  "They assume
you still have the same values and experiences as the mortal Natalie
Lambert.  Whereas with me, they know or think they know what my morals
were like, and they're still not completely convinced that I've
actually...changed."

She nodded.  He was right about that, although she still wasn't sure why
having a known history trumped being a new--and unpredictable,
therefore, very possibly more dangerous--vampire.  She went back to the
counter and her glass, touching the glass for a moment.  "And I thought
I might call and check on the test results from the samples.  Maybe give
you a bit of a head start tonight."

"But you're off tonight, aren't you?"

"Technically, yes, but I'll be in at some point."  Then she winced.
"I'm actually supposed to go to the Raven again for another 'lesson'.  I
wish I knew what he had planned for me this time."

"Just make sure you do that before you go to work.  Otherwise--"

"He'll find me."  She took in a deep breath, raised her glass, and took
a drink from it.  "I know."

She felt Nick's hands wrap around her waist, closed her eyes, and
smiled.  She still hadn't quite gotten used to how much he liked to be
near her now that he could.  "Not that I don't enjoy you holding me like
this, but..."  Natalie twisted around in his hold and found him smiling
down on her mischievously.  She couldn't help but kiss him, but only the
once, and rather quickly, at that.  Then she held her glass in front of
his lips.  "I really do want to call to check on those results.
Especially on the blood sample I took from Mrs. Hillcrest."

Nick took her glass, and Natalie slipped away from him.  By the time he
had turned to follow her, she was across the room with the phone in her
hand.  He drank slowly from the glass, watching and listening to her
call the morgue.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Looky what I got," Schanke said happily right when his partner sat
down.  He waved a file in front of him for emphasis.  "Gotta love
Natalie for thinking about going back to the house yesterday morning and
not only getting more samples, but also drawing some of Mrs. Hillcrest's
blood."

Nick smiled, nodding his head slightly.  The tests had come back with
one additional source of arsenic.  The coffee creamer the husband used
in his coffee--which was different than what his wife used--had been
contaminated.  And Mrs. Hillcrest's blood also had elevated levels,
although they didn't compare to her dead husband's.  When they had been
taking samples, she admitted to sometimes using his creamer, especially
recently.  Natalie's guess was that when the creamer wasn't enough to
kill Paul Hillcrest outright, his killer had thought up other means.

"And?  Partner?"

Nick's smile widened, but now he shook his head.  Schanke had been
poking fun at him tonight.  His partner had arrived early and done more
digging on their case.  "And for having a partner who comes in early,"
he admitted.

"Right.  Finally!  Some real appreciation."  He fidgeted and stood.
"Okay, I know you couldn't come in anyway, even if the sun didn't crisp
you up, plus it's less of a hassle to get warrants during the day, so,
er, bottom line...who do you want to try first?" he asked, getting his
coat and putting it on.  "Mrs. Hillcrest's younger or older sister?
They both live here in Toronto, so..."

Nick considered that while his partner grabbed and held out his coat.
"The one whose husband died in the car accident.  So younger."  He stood
and took his coat, putting it on and following his partner out.

"So, what's Natalie doing?" Schanke asked after they had gotten into
Nick's car and started out of the parking lot.

"No idea."

He narrowed his eyes.  "How can you not know?  I thought you said
something about--"

"I really don't know, Schanke.  And I won't until I see Natalie to ask
her."

"Yeah, but *he's* on," he said, pointing at the radio.

"It's a rerun.  A rather old rerun, at that."

Schanke thought, remembering what he had heard on the vampire's show
last night and tensed.  "What exactly did he teach you, anyway?  I mean
other than the obvious.  You know, killing people with those teeth of
yours, and then maybe how to cover it up, or ditch the body or
something?  I mean, what you can do...it doesn't really need to be
taught, does it?  It's more pure instinct, no teacher needed."
 
Nick stiffened at that as well.

"He wouldn't make her actually kill someone, would he?" Schanke asked
flippantly, then became suddenly serious as he realised that could, in
fact, be the case, considering what he knew about the ancient vampire.

Nick outright froze, his eyes locked on the road in front of him.

"Of course he would," the mortal answered his own question.  "But, I
mean, Natalie wouldn't do it, right?  Nick?"

He closed his eyes for a second, then forced them back open when he got
a whack to his arm.

"Road, Knight!  Please, please, please don't do that!  But Natalie
wouldn't kill someone, right?"  He tried not to show the real concern in
his voice as he spoke, but he was sure his increased heart rate betrayed
his worry.  He waited again, and became uncomfortable when Nick still
didn't answer him.  "You know...I don't like it when you do this.  With
you, silence usually means yes, and I don't like--"

"Listen, Skank.  If LaCroix wants her to kill, she won't have a choice,"
Nick finally answered.  It was the truth, without telling Schanke that
she had already killed--and he had, too.  He feared what his partner
would say or do if he found out he had killed someone so recently.  Or
what he would say to Schanke if he ever told him.  He hated himself for
what he had been forced to do.

"Yeah, but isn't it harder to kill someone nowadays?  I mean, it's
probably a lot tougher to get rid of the bodies and evidence and stuff.
And, sure, LaCroix killed that idiot Beranger--don't get me wrong, the
guy asked for it--but other than that, I wouldn't think even LaCroix
would be likely to kill anymore, at least not since we forced you guys
out of the coffin, right?"

Again, he hesitated.

"Niiiick?  That wasn't just me saying the obvious here; I really do want
an answer."

Nick took a deep breath and finally answered, "He's about as evil as our
kind get, Schanke.  And...no, I don't think he's been on any forced
abstinence program due to either modern technology or vampires being
'forced out of the coffin' as you so *tactfully* put it."

"So he's--"

"He's killed people recently, I'm sure."  He felt frustrated, knowing
his partner wasn't going to drop this easily.  "Do you really want to
know if Natalie's killed someone?  Or the last time LaCroix killed?  Or
the last time I killed, for that matter?  And who and when?"

"Okay, I get it," he whispered, becoming uncomfortable with the
ever-increasing depth of this conversation.  "And...I don't know, Nick.
I want to know, but...I don't.  Does that make any sense?"

"You want to know if we're presently killers, but you don't know how
you'd react," he suggested.

"I don't know.  Something like that, I guess.  But I'd bet ten-to-one
LaCroix somehow had something to do with it--if you did--hypothetically
speaking, of course."

Schanke swallowed hard as he absently stared out the window at the
passing buildings.

"So if...if I decided I wanted to know, really wanted to know, would you
tell me...or would you lie and say what I'd want to hear?"  Then,
quickly, he qualified the question, glancing back at his partner, "I
mean, assuming you had killed--not saying I think you have,
just...theoretically.  Would you and Nat tell me...if I asked?"

Nick hesitated again, shaking his head slightly.  "I don't know,
Schanke."  He took in a deep breath, explaining, "You have to understand
that if, say, I theoretically had killed someone and you knew about
it..."

"Then I'd be obligated to turn you in," he said somewhat grimly.  "But,
I mean, if I didn't--"

"Just..."  Again his frustration hit the tipping point.  "It's safest to
simply assume all vampires have killed.  All vampires
do--eventually--and even if they haven't yet actually killed someone,
they've--"

"Bitten someone.  I guess that's kinda the same thing, isn't it?
Without the death of the one bitten--the bitee...or whatever--part.
And, obviously, you've both done that."  He relaxed somewhat at that,
realising when it came down to it, that it didn't really matter.  Nick
was probably right--all vampires killed at some point.  "I guess it
doesn't really matter if you tell me."  Schanke considered, then said,
"But if something comes up--"

"You mean if one of us is incriminated of something?"

"Er, yeah.  If you are...well, I think I'd like to know whatever the
truth is, whether it's better or worse than whatever is said.  Agreed?"

Nick had to consider this for some time--he had driven them nearly a
mile before finally nodding.  "Agreed.  Now let's talk about something
else--like the case."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (062/111)

"Anything test positive?" Nick asked once he and Schanke arrived back at
the morgue late that morning to find Natalie with her head down on her
desk.

Schanke continued forward almost to the desk, tilting his head at her
resting form.  "Natalie?  You awake?"

"Awake," she mumbled, slowly raising her head to see Nick's partner
looking curiously at her.  "And no, nothing tested positive.  But why
any sane person would keep that many things in unlabelled containers is
beyond my comprehension."

"Great, no leads.  Wonder if Cohen will make me work Sunday night?"

Natalie shifted her gaze to Nick, who mouthed the word 'vacation' from
behind Schanke.  "Might have to work all week," she suggested, trying
not to smile as she teased him.

"Nah.  Cohen's got it covered.  Knight'll be stuck with a temporary
partner, but just who the lucky dog is seems to be top secret.  Even he
hasn't heard anything, which, well, that's saying something."  Schanke
glanced behind him.  "Sorry, partner."

"No ideas?" she asked, curiously.  "None at all?"

Nick shook his head.

"Anything else, or can I go home now?  I'd like to spend the last...hour
and a half of my so-called 'night off' thinking how I'm going to get to
the courthouse Tuesday at eleven in the morning."

"Courthouse?" Nick asked.

"Er, yeah.  And while I really don't want to practice doing *anything*
remotely draining, I hope one of you has a bible, or else we're getting
that cross of yours out."

"Nat--"

"Wait, he has a cross?" Schanke asked, once again turning toward his
partner, who winced, which was answer enough.  "Hold on, I've seen it,
haven't I?"  He shook his head.  "You are one weird vampire, Knight."

Natalie looked at Schanke, then to Nick, then down at her desk.  She
smiled.  Schanke really had no idea how weird of a vampire his partner
was.  As far as she was aware, he still didn't even know Nick didn't
want to be a vampire--or that she had been trying to cure him of that,
which was the main reason he had remained in Toronto so long.  If Nick
hadn't trusted her, he and Schanke never would have met.  "So, that a no
on anything else, right?"

"Yeah, that's a no," Nick replied.  "For tonight, anyway."

"Frankly, the two sisters seemed just as surprised and worried about all
of this as Mrs. Hillcrest," Schanke added morosely.  "Nothing.  Nada.
Back to square one.  Either the wife did it," he said, glancing to his
partner, who clearly didn't think this was the case.  "Or someone not on
the radar.  Yet."

Natalie felt a bit sorry for the two, but frankly all she wanted to do
now was go home.  "Well, Nick...  If I'm asleep when you get home--which
I'm pretty sure I will be, considering how I feel--I order you to wake
me up."  She stood and started toward them, shooing them both toward the
door.  "Now out, both of you.  I'd say back to work, but--"

"I need to get home before Myra comes to find me, chain me up, and make
me run behind the car the whole way there," Schanke replied.  "Or,
worse, in front of it."  Then he checked his watch, even with Natalie
shoving him out the doors.  "And Knight has to be out of the precinct
in, oh...less than twenty minutes."

Abruptly the doors shut behind both Nick and Schanke.

"That wasn't a very friendly departure.  Especially for you."  Schanke
started on out to the car with his partner trailing behind.  "And what
is she worried about court for?  There aren't any crosses in the room."

"Yeah, but you have to swear on a bible.  Plus it's during the day.
Sunlight issues, remember?"

"Oh, yeah.  Right.  Sorry.  I think her tiredness must be contagious."
With that, he yawned.  "Not that I blame her, being her day off.
Wait...can't she just tape the whole thing like you usually do?"

Nick thought about that, then shook his head.  He wasn't even sure if
they'd let him tape his testimony in the future, not know that everyone
knew why.  "I don't know; maybe in the future, but there's not a lot of
time to do that at this point.  And I'm not sure they'd even let her;
she's the medical examiner, not a detective."  After that, he stopped
truly listening to his partner, who continued to ramble about how tired
he was and how he was looking forward to his vacation on their drive
back to the precinct.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Arriving home, Nick smiled seeing Natalie sitting on the sofa, sound
asleep.  It had barely been half an hour since he and Schanke had left
the morgue, but there she sat with a full glass of blood sitting on the
coffee table in front of her, a second empty glass that was still clean
waiting for him.

Quietly dropping off his jacket, Nick approached and sat gently next to
her, at which he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

"Hmm," Natalie half-moaned, waking at the kiss.  They both pulled away,
smiling at one another.  "I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Yeah."  He glanced to the glasses on the table, leaned forward to fill
the second, and handed one to Natalie.  "Should I ask what LaCroix' idea
of a lesson was?"

"Hypnotising every mortal into forgetting who they are, essentially.  I
think I accidentally sent one of the techs home sick."  Natalie closed
her eyes and bowed her head for a moment, then took a sip from her glass
before continuing, "At least they were all susceptible.  Otherwise
they'd remember him being there."

"In the morgue?  For your lesson?"

"Yep.  He had only left a few minutes before you and Schanke popped in.
Didn't want Schanke to know that, of course.  Anyway, you should try
simultaneously listening to him while you run those tests and explain
those files.  He followed me in, kept drilling me.  Not sure why...even
he said I'm rather 'apt'--his word--at everything I've tried.
Including..."  She hesitated, shaking her head.  "Too apt, in my mind.
I don't know what I'm doing half the time and keep...overdoing it.  I'm
still acting mostly on instinct, I think."  After she took another sip
from her glass, she asked rather seriously, "I can't permanently damage
someone's mind, can I?"

Nick had to actually think before he answered.  "I haven't heard of it
happening."

"Good.  That's very, very good."

"I haven't heard of it happening, but I suppose it might be possible."
He watched as Natalie quickly drank half of her nearly full glass, then
asked, "Are you sure you don't want to go ahead and--"

"Positive," she answered, cutting his question off.  "If how I reacted
yesterday morning to the housekeeper is any indication...  I mean, I
literally ran for my life."

"But you stopped."

"Yeah...after I was halfway to the Caddy."

"You didn't fly off."

She nearly replied, but couldn't think why she hadn't done precisely
that.  She had wanted to get away as fast as she could.  "Probably too
traumatised or something.  Besides, you stayed right there."

"Willpower and practice."

"Exactly."  She waited, but Nick simply sat there, half amused and half
concerned.  "Come on, I need something to practice on.  Either that
cross of yours, or...well, obviously a bible would be best, but I'm not
sure you have--"

The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly.

"You're kidding--you do?"  Natalie didn't get an answer, beyond watching
Nick head to the kitchen and open one of the upper cupboards that she
had thought was empty.  From here, however, she could see a rather plain
box at the back of the top shelf.

Nick hesitated before carefully pulling the box forward.  He lowered it
onto the counter with one hand and closed the cupboard door with the
other.  Contained like this, it didn't burn.  He still felt mildly
repulsed, but only because he knew what was inside.  He took the box
back to where Natalie sat on the sofa, and placed the still closed box
between them.

Natalie stared at the box, slightly uneasy, but not as much as she would
have expected.  But then, Nick didn't seem overly affected, either.

She tensed when he took the lid off, only to be somewhat disappointed.
All she could see were layers of fabric.  He had apparently wrapped it.

Nick flipped the box around so that, once unwrapped, it would be facing
Natalie, if he remembered correctly.  "Are you ready?"

She took a deep breath before replying, "As much as I ever will be."

"Maybe you should focus on something else at first.  Distract yourself."

Natalie nearly protested, but instead she nodded and focused her
attention completely on Nick's face.  "Just do it so I can find out if
I'm going to panic."

He didn't reply, merely looked down at the box and gingerly started to
pull the fabric back, first on one side toward his right, then the next
layer to his left.  He had to force himself to continue pulling the
second layer of fabric back.  He could now see the sacred book itself
and the cross on its cover, both of which repelled him.

Even if Nick hadn't clearly become uncomfortable, Natalie could faintly
tell it was there, uncovered.

"How do you feel?" he asked, glancing up at Natalie, who was looking
right into his eyes.

"So far, so good.  For now anyway."  In fact, she felt better than she
expected and glanced down, only to feel instantly sick throughout her
body.  It was, if anything, worse than the night before.  Immediately
her eyes changed, and she started to stand, only for Nick to grab her
wrist.  At that, she felt fear and anger course through her.  Her fangs
descended and she snarled at him, trying to free herself from his grip,
to no avail.

"Natalie, look at me."

All she could do was continue her efforts to flee, to try distancing
herself from the object.  She snarled once more at Nick, who was
preventing her escape.

Nick had to briefly look away from Natalie so that he could cover the
book up again with his free hand, then he stood and moved between her
and the covered bible, repeating, "Look at me, Natalie.  Calm down.
You're okay."

At first all she could do was snarl once again and try to pull away, but
this time both of her reactions were weaker.  The powerful, oppressive
sensation had vanished.  When Nick took hold of her other arm, she
finally started to calm herself and realise how irrationally she was
acting.  In moments she had composed herself, her appearance reverting
to a more human norm.

"Remember, it won't actually hurt you until you touch it.  You'll feel
ill, repulsed by it, but it won't burn you."

She closed her eyes.

"Natalie?"

She shook her head and looked up.  "I'm sorry, Nick, but maybe this is
one thing I can't do."

"It just takes a little practice.  Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"But I panicked, Nick.  You might as well have tried shoving a cross
down my throat."

"That was just your first time.  Trust me, it gets easier," he assured
her.

"Yeah, but in three days, can I...  I guess the goal is to not change or
snarl at the clerk."

"You'll be able to do it by then, even if we have to practice before and
after work and while you're on lunch.  I'll admit that it won't feel any
better, but you'll learn not to react as severely."  He waited, but
Natalie didn't relax any further.  "Don't forget, you cut up dead and
bloody corpses for a living.  If you can do that, you certainly can do
this...with some more practice."

She closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath, wishing it
worked as well to calm her nerves now as it had when she was a mortal.
"Okay, let's try again."

Nick sat back down, still holding onto her, forcing her to sit back
down.  He began again, this time having her hold one of his hands in
both of hers while he unveiled the book.

Half an hour later, Natalie was even more exhausted than before, and she
had drunk two full glasses of blood in an effort to replenish some of
her energy.  Not that it worked well, but at least she had finally
managed to remain sitting with minimal reaction.  Once.  And even then
she clenched Nick's hand nearly tight enough to break bones, and she
knew her eyes had still changed.

"Are you all right?" Nick asked after he had moved the box with the
bible in it, shrouded once again with the cloth, to the coffee table.

"Just tired, I think."

Nick leaned back and pulled Natalie toward him, at which she wrapped her
arms around him, leaned her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.
Within moments, she had fallen asleep, and all he dared do was kiss her
lightly on her forehead and brush her hair back from her face.  Then he,
too, closed his eyes.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (063/111)

Shortly before dawn, LaCroix entered his son's home, only to find both
of his children apparently asleep.  Neither stirred at his approach,
even when he walked right up to them.

Nick was still sitting up, his head lolled off to one side.  Natalie was
curled up on the sofa leaning against him, clutching her brother's arm.

LaCroix' attention was caught by the items on the coffee table.  An
out-of-place open box sat next to a full glass of blood--untouched.  The
other glass was faintly stained up one side and empty.  The box drew his
attention.  He reached down and threw the fabric to the side, only to be
forced to look away by the unexpected contents.  A bible.

He re-covered the item quickly, his hand grabbing the full glass of
blood as he straightened.  LaCroix drank half before his thoughts
refocused.  He hadn't been aware that his son possessed such a thing.
It appeared to have been a recent acquisition, the book neither
extremely old nor new, but in good condition.  It was almost as if it
had been stolen at some point a century ago and boxed away...which, he
suspected, could very possibly be what happened.

Finding the thick tome angered him more than he would like to admit, but
when he once again focused on his children, much of that anger vanished.
A smile rested ever so slightly on his son's lips, and that drew him
closer.

Ever so gently, LaCroix touched the side of his son's neck, trailing the
tips of his fingers along the skin.  Seeing the younger man's smile
intensify, he grinned, pleased.  He repeated the action twice more,
careful not to wake his son with the touch.

Suppressing a chuckle, he took another drink from his son's glass,
picked the bottle up off the coffee table, and started upstairs.  The
sun had already risen and what he wished to tell his children could
wait.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Not long after sunrise, Nick woke, stretching and rubbing his neck.
Looking over at Natalie, he called her name, but got no response.  She
was completely out.  He smiled somewhat at that, even though he knew it
was because she was exhausted from both LaCroix' lesson and his own.  He
carefully got up, holding on to her to prevent her from falling over.
Finally he picked her gently up and started toward the bedroom.

He stopped cold when the inside of the room came into view, Natalie
swaying slightly in his arms when he shifted his hold upon seeing his
sire.  His uninvited guest sat on his bed, leaning against the
headboard, taking a sip from a near empty glass in his hand.

Recovering his surprise, Nick walked around to the other side of the bed
and carefully laid Natalie's limp body on the comforter, folding her
hands on top of her waist.

"You aren't going to undress her?"

His eyes snapped up and he glared at LaCroix.

"Apparently not.  I had rather expected to see a show when I arrived.  I
must admit I'm rather disappointed."

Nick dropped his gaze.  If his sire was in tune with what he was
thinking half as much as it appeared, he knew today's activities had
been a bit of a departure from the norm.  Every other morning since
Natalie had been turned, they had essentially come home from work, had
breakfast, then shared both their bodies and blood.  And LaCroix knew
it.

"What were you doing with that book, Nicholas?" he asked in an angry
whisper.

He winced at the tone, recognising it.  He was thankful to have an
answer to which the other man might not object.  "Natalie has to appear
in court on Tuesday, and she has to be sworn in...on a bible," he
answered and walked around the bed, keeping his attention on LaCroix the
entire time.  "Why are you here?"

"Unless you plan to wake her, that may as well wait.  We have all day."

"Nine and a half hours.  Probably nine by now."  Nick continued forward
until he was nearly up to the side of the bed.  "Why are you here,
LaCroix?  Either tell me...or leave."

LaCroix hesitated, but sensed his son would make sure he left, daylight
or not.  "The mortals' news."

"What about it?"

"They will soon be offering a blood substitute," he said with a sneer.

"We've known that for several weeks by now.  Schmidt even asked me to
test it."

"It will be available for sale tomorrow evening in a few select
locations," he said in a rather snide impersonation of the news
broadcast he had heard minutes before leaving the Raven.  "They'd have
much more luck adding fresh, hot blood at coffee stands than--"

"Tomorrow night?  Where will they be selling it?"

"I suspect the Raven will receive a shipment.  After all, we were one of
the 'select locations' chosen to be unveiled, and where better to market
such a thing?"

"They didn't give you any kind of notification?"

"Not as of this morning."  LaCroix' lip curled up.  "They probably
wanted to wait until it was too late for us to protest."

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"Not you.  Natalie.  Or, more specifically, Dr. Lambert."

Nick relaxed somewhat.  "You want her to test it."

"Of course.  Thoroughly."  Glancing to Natalie's sleeping form, his eyes
narrowed before looking back to his son.  "Through scientific
examination, only.  You will not turn yourselves into lab rats."

LaCroix drank what little blood remained in his glass, then gracefully
sat up, refilled it from a bottle on the nightstand, stood, and offered
the glass to his son.

Nick reluctantly took it and took a large drink from it.  He still felt
unnerved by the unexpected visit.

"Why do you deny yourself even this?" LaCroix asked, holding the bottle
up.  "Your glass was full when I arrived."

"I forgot about it.  Got distracted."  Not wanting to talk further here
and risk waking Natalie, he turned and left the room, taking another sip
from his glass.  Walking down the stairs, he halted when LaCroix landed
in his path, then he walked around his sire and went to the coffee table
to retrieve Natalie's empty glass.  Taking it to the kitchen sink, he
rinsed it out, setting his on the counter.

LaCroix followed and topped the half-empty glass off before setting the
bottle next to it.  "She is rather adaptable, isn't she?  Learns
quickly."

"All of us do, LaCroix.  We have to.  You should know that.  You've
brought across I don't know how many--"

"But I have only specifically taught a select few."

"Those you are obsessed with."

"Obsessed?"  LaCroix chuckled.  "Are you saying I am obsessed with
Natalie?  Or Janette?"

Nick hesitated.  The only person his sire ever seemed truly obsessed
with was himself.  Just as he thought that, he felt LaCroix move up next
to him.

"Janette returns to me of her own free will.  We may not entirely agree
with one another on every issue--but then, we generally only disagree
when it comes to you, Nicholas.  And as for Natalie...I do not believe
it is I who am obsessed with her."  He laughed again, moving fully
behind his son and touching his neck again.

Nick tried to pull away, but in doing so, he felt his sire's lips brush
up against his ear.  Now he knew why he had woken, why his neck felt as
if someone had touched him there--LaCroix had.  He closed his eyes,
trying to block out the sensations, block out how the other man was
making him feel--hungry and on edge.

"Potential, Nicholas," he whispered into his son's ear, then let his
fingers tighten around the younger man's neck.

In an instant, Nick reacted, reaching up and pulling LaCroix' hand from
his neck.  Then he spun on his opponent, and after grappling with his
sire for a moment, he managed to trip the other man, slamming him back
onto the hard floor.

LaCroix could feel his son's strength, the grip on his throat and arm.
His son could kill him right now, and easily.  Perversely, both facts
pleased him immensely.  "Potential," he managed, smiling, not bothering
to fight--not when things were otherwise going so well and fighting
would merely injure them both.  "She does have potential, does she not?"

Glaring down on LaCroix with golden eyes, Nick found himself unable to
refute the comment.  Torn between anger and conceding, his grip loosened
slightly.

"I expect that she will do quite well as one of us.  I barely even have
to guide her; her instincts are strong and sure.  She really doesn't
even need my assistance.  Perhaps it is from her knowledge of us through
you.  Or perhaps she is simply so very willing to learn all of what she
is."  Again, he laughed.  "Unlike you."

Sensing his son's grip was loose enough that he could escape, LaCroix
pushed the hand away from his throat, used the other to help him sit up,
then easily stood, at which he shrugged out of his son's other hand,
still smiling.

Nick stared blankly at his sire, having nothing to say in response.  He
really didn't want to fight with LaCroix, not right now.  It didn't help
that the other man's words were less twisted than usual.  Turning, his
gaze fell on his glass that was once again full, and he started for it,
wanting to subdue his anger.

LaCroix grinned at his son's reaction.  He hadn't said a word in
response.  "Feed and sleep, Nicholas.  I would suggest you...indulge in
your sister, but I believe she would prefer not to be woken,
considering."  He turned and headed toward the sofa.

Nick didn't turn around, too lost in his thoughts.  He drank the rest of
the glass, poured another, and returned to the bedroom.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Nick abruptly woke that afternoon to find himself alone in the bed.
Natalie had already gotten up, apparently.  Quickly dressing for work,
he headed downstairs to find her sitting at the kitchen table with two
glasses of blood and a bottle nearby.  Her ongoing nemesis, the bible,
sat a short distance away.  He slowed, noting that either she or LaCroix
had taken it out of the box.  Although uncovered, it still lay on the
fabric.

LaCroix sat on the sofa, the television turned to the news.  It had been
so long since Nick had dared watch the news, he was a bit surprised by
the tone.  Vampires were more or less being discussed as if they were
simply another group of people.  It was odd.  He noted the news anchor
speaking about the artificial blood seemed somewhat stiff and
uncomfortable.  He would have thought mortals would be thrilled by such
an alternative, even if vampires were not.  They didn't know that, of
course.

Tuning it out, Nick walked up behind Natalie, who had also changed her
clothes at some point.  "Nat?"

Natalie jumped a little, not having heard Nick approach, and turned her
head to look at him.

"Are you all right?"

"Sure.  Perfectly fine."  Natalie turned her attention back to the
table.  "LaCroix told me why he's here.  The blood substitute thing."

"Who took it out?" he said, slowly approaching the uncovered bible.

"Me.  It took a few tries."

"So you--"

"Touched it?  Yep."  Natalie turned her right hand palm side up, showing
him her scalded fingers.  "Twice, actually.  Got to love repeat burns in
the same location."  Natalie nodded toward LaCroix, who was doing a good
job at his pretence of ignoring them.  "He's not too happy about it, I
don't think."

Nick rolled his eyes.  "What do you expect?  He's never happy.  Nothing
new there."

LaCroix chuckled at that and looked over at his son.  Then he turned the
television off--the news had moved on to more mundane topics--stood, and
approached the two, keeping his son between him and the book on the
table.  "My dear Nicholas, you'd be surprised how happy I am at
times...how very pleased I can be."  His eyes darted to Natalie for a
second before turning back to his son.  "Believe it or not, I'm actually
rather pleased at the moment."

Before Nick could reply, someone rang the buzzer, and he hurried to the
security screen.

Schanke.

The buzzer rang again, and Schanke's voice came out of the speaker.
"Come on, Knight."  More rings from the buzzer.  "If you weren't awake
before, I'm sure you are now.  Listen, Partner, I figured it out.  Now
let me up so I can lay it all out for you."  He waited, then asked, "You
are there, right?  Sun's still up, so I'm assuming you're there.  I
don't wanna--"

Nick nearly let his partner continue, but he hit the intercom, saying,
"Yeah, Skank, I'm here.  Come on up."  He looked back to LaCroix, who
was grinning smugly over at him, even while he walked around the table
to the second glass of blood.  He waited by the elevator doors as the
freight went down, Schanke got in, and it came back up.

Schanke strode in full speed when his partner pulled the door open for
him, then froze just before saying something, his eyes widening and jaw
dropping slightly upon seeing LaCroix staring at him with a glass of
rather red, slimy...

"Schanke, you said you solved it?" Nick asked, trying to draw his
partner's attention back to him.

"Good afternoon, Detective," LaCroix greeted him with a grin and a
deliberate, slow sip of his glass.

"Good afternoon," Schanke muttered, somewhat numb at the unwanted
encounter.

"Skank.  The case?"

Snapping out of his surprise at seeing the ancient vampire, he turned to
his partner, then back toward LaCroix and Natalie.  He shifted
uncomfortably, then forced himself to focus solely on his partner.  "The
case.  Right.  Get this.  Jennifer Hillcrest's sister, Jessica, the one
whose husband died in the car crash?"  He paused briefly, hoping for a
nod from his partner, then blustered on before receiving one.  "Well,
she left something out.  Believe it or not, I saw the clue in one of
Myra's gossip mags while I was--er, anyway, there was this article
here."  He shoved the magazine at Nick, open to a particular page.
"Socialites just can't keep their lives to themselves, ya know.  And
this says that Jessica is supposed to marry Thomas Morrison first week
of December.  Any guesses on when they got engaged?"

"A year ago?" Nick surmised, glancing at the article and holding it back
out toward his partner, without reading a word.

"Bingo.  So, either they're working together, or it's the boyfriend's
idea.  Not sure why, since, according to that, they're both rich.  But
still, split four ways is better than six, and who knows if Jessica's
sisters might be next to meet some strange end.  As it stands now, they
get half, assuming the father dies after they're married," Schanke said,
taking the magazine back from Nick.  "I'm actually on my way in to see
what I can find on the guy, but I thought you might want to know."

Nick didn't answer, his gaze drifting off behind his partner.

"Gee, Nick.  Don't look all thrilled, will ya?" Schanke complained,
eager for his partner to give him his richly-deserved props for finding
such an obscure but key clue that would let them wrap up the entire
case.

"I am thrilled, Skank, but I've only been awake a grand total of ten
minutes.  Give me a break, will ya?"

At that, Schanke swallowed and glanced over to the kitchen again.
LaCroix was drinking out of a glass and another sat on the table near
Natalie.  He then mumbled, "And you probably haven't had breakfast yet.
Sorry about that."

"No problem," he told his partner, seeing the other man start to panic
slightly, realising he was surrounded by three hungry vampires.  "It's
still fairly early."

Schanke, however, had already started back toward the elevator--both out
of nerves and wanting to wrap up the case.  "Well, Partner, I'll call if
I get something before day shift is gone."  He turned, pulled the door
open, nearly said something else to Nick but didn't, not with LaCroix
there, watching him like a hawk would a field mouse.  "Hasta la
bye-bye."

Nick flinched when the elevator started down.  He had neither expected
Schanke to come over...nor, obviously, had his partner expected LaCroix
to be there.  "You didn't have to stare at him like that."

"Like what?" LaCroix asked with feigned innocence, approaching his son.

"Like he was next on the menu."  Seeing his sire's eyebrow eyebrows lift
slightly, Nick decided to drop it and he headed back to the table and
Natalie.  Schanke hadn't been in any real danger; LaCroix had merely
wanted to see his mortal partner squirm.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (064/111)

"So, what was he doing at your place?" Schanke finally asked on their
way to talk to Thomas Morrison, about an hour and a half after he had
stopped by Nick's, and still half an hour before his partner was allowed
in the precinct.

"Something to do with the news," he answered vaguely.

"Couldn't he just...call you?  He *does* know we have this new-fangled
contraption called a *phone*, doesn't he?"

Nick ignored the jibe.  "Of course.  But he'd much rather come in
person...to annoy me."  Wanting to avoid talk of LaCroix, he asked, "Day
shift say anything about you coming in early?"

"Oh, the usual.  Briggs made some snide comment about where my partner
was.  He always does that when I go in early, though, so...nothing new."

"No comments about the artificial blood?"

"Well..." Schanke started, shifting in his seat.  "Okay, I heard
something about you regarding--"

"Thinking I'd go for it?"

"Thinking you *wouldn't* go for it, actually."

"What do you think?"

Schanke was caught off guard and he shifted again.  "I don't know.  I
don't know anything about your opinion on that kind of thing, really."

"But you know that up until three months ago, I was drinking cow's
blood."

"And now you're drinking human blood.  Unless you switched back?" he
asked, turning toward his partner.

Nick hesitated before quietly answering, "No.  No, I haven't switched
back."

"At least you're not appraising me for your next meal or something.
When it comes down to it, I really don't care what you drink...as long
as you don't do that.  And I'm not sure cow's blood is much less creepy
than human blood anyway; it's still blood, after all.  On the other
hand, for us, I'm also not sure a pot of chemicals is much better than
straight caffeine...but I guarantee that a pot of coffee sure tastes
better than an IV of the stuff.  Granted, no idea if someone can really
live off caffeine, but...point is, you guys might not even be able to
live off that artificial stuff long term, not without going off the deep
end.  So...I don't care what you drink, but I wouldn't touch that stuff,
if I was you."

Nick didn't answer, but considered his partner's comments.  He was
faintly surprised at Schanke's lack of concern at what he drank,
although he suspected that pertained only to bottled vintages.  If his
partner found out he and Natalie had killed...

Then there was the mortal's musing on the artificial blood.  Honestly,
his own thoughts had centred on whether or not it was edible--perhaps
from his work with Natalie and the vile taste of the concoctions she had
made for him.  He hadn't even considered whether it might not actually
be adequate from a nutritional standpoint.

Nick suspected LaCroix' primary concern was whether or not it would make
their kind ill in some way--not whether it was sufficient or edible.
LaCroix, he knew, wouldn't touch it, regardless, and even then he
suspected his sire would choose animal blood over a blood substitute, if
it came down to it.

"Knight?"

Nick snapped out of his thoughts, realising he had driven for some time
and not remembered a thing, not even the transition into a purely
residential area.  "What?"

"I said, 'You're not gonna try that stuff, right?'"  Schanke paused,
watching his still slightly zoned out partner think.  "Or will you?"

"No," he finally answered.  "Natalie's going to test it."  Glancing
toward his partner, who had paled slightly, he clarified, "Run some
tests on it at the morgue.  She's going to find out what's in it."

Schanke relaxed at that, commenting simply, "Good."  He then started
reading off the house numbers silently, noting they were now in another
well-to-do neighbourhood.

The biggest house in the area turned out to be their destination.  Nick
pulled up to the curb, the driveway occupied by a car haphazardly parked
in the middle, the only thing out of place.  They went up to the door,
noting the lights were on, and Nick knocked on the door.

Almost immediately a well-dressed man in his early thirties answered the
door.

"Mr. Morrison?"

"Yes?"

"Detectives Knight and Schanke, Metro Homicide," Nick said, flashing his
badge.  Immediately, the man slammed the door.  He nearly smiled.  For
once he could really use what he was.  "I'll get the back."

Schanke turned slightly, but all he saw was Nick's disappearing coat.
"The back.  Yeah, right," he muttered, then entered the house; the door
had been closed, but not locked.

Sure enough, Mr. Morrison had headed noisily for the back door.  Schanke
followed, only to discover that his partner had already pinned the man
down on the kitchen table, and was cuffing him and reading him his
rights.  Likely the source of all the noise, he realised.  The back door
was open, chilly outside air wafting in.  Schanke was torn between
wishing he had seen whatever Nick had done and upset that he hadn't
gotten there first.

"You can't arrest me!" Morrison exclaimed, struggling uselessly against
the vampire's hold.

"Sure we can.  You ran; we can arrest you for evading.  All you did was
make yourself look guilty," Schanke said.

"Of what?  What are the charges?  What are you arresting me for?"  He
tried again to stand up, but found himself barely able to move at all.
"And he could be a bit less rough--"

"Don't worry, you can tell us whatever you want at the station," Schanke
told him.  "And Knight isn't being rough, and he already told you what
you're being arrested for.  Stop struggling and I'm sure he'll let you
up."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"You know, I was almost looking forward to this vacation," Schanke said
wistfully later that night, idly poking a file on his desk.  Thomas
Morrison appeared as clueless as his fiancée regarding what was
happening.  Perhaps more so.  He didn't even know his soon to be
brother-in-law was dead.  "And maybe even getting to go home early
tonight.  When he ran, I thought for sure..."

"Maybe Natalie'll find something."  Nick was also getting impatient, and
kept picking up and setting down a pencil.  He knew he'd break it and
end up with a hand full of painful splinters if he fiddled with it too
long.

"I have a funny feeling about this."

Nick did, too.

"Oh, no.  *Cohen*," Schanke said under his breath, so that only his
partner would hear.

Nick turned in his chair and saw her staring directly at him.

"Probably something about your temp partner.  Hope it is, anyway.  Myra
won't like a last minute cancellation."

Nick didn't reply; instead he simply stood and went to Cohen's office.
She had turned and gone to her desk the moment he started forward,
instructing him to close the door once he entered.

"I think you already know what this is about."

"Captain, I can work alone for the week Schanke's gone."

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Cohen asked as she shook
her head, although her words were closer to a statement.  Her lips even
quirked up into a near smile, but only for a moment.  "And no, you
cannot and will not be working alone."

"I have before.  Ask--"

"I am fully aware you've worked solo before, Knight.  And we both know
how you managed to pull that off.  Don't even think about 'changing my
mind'.  Frankly, it wasn't my decision."

"Whose was it?"  When Cohen didn't immediately answer, Nick sighed, then
lowered his eyes and grumbled, "Fine.  Who will it be?"

"Now, you're not going to--"

He looked up at his captain.  "*Who* is it?"

Cohen sighed.  "Tracy Vetter."

Nick closed his eyes.  Cohen had been correct that he wouldn't like it.
He didn't.  Not one iota.

"And, before you ask, yes, she is Commissioner Vetter's daughter."

"Why can't I work alone?" he protested.

"Because she volunteered for this, and because you need all the good
reviews you can get.  If she turns in a good report to her father, then
perhaps you won't have to avoid the precinct while day shift is
here--like earlier tonight."  Cohen softened somewhat, then told him,
"Knight, I'm sure you realise that however much you dislike this, it
would be good to go along with it and make a good impression.  If I
didn't think it was in your best interests, or that you couldn't handle
it, I wouldn't have agreed."

His gaze again drifted.  He supposed it might be good to take advantage
of the situation, but he really didn't mesh with new people quickly.

"Don't be late tomorrow night."

Nick snapped out of his thoughts at that and nodded, then started slowly
toward the door.  When Cohen didn't call him back, he left and returned
to his desk, still a bit stunned.

"So, who's it gonna be?" Schanke whispered, leaning forward on his desk.

"Tracy Vetter."

Schanke's eyes widened slightly.

"What do you know about her?"

"Not much, other than the obvious--she's Commissioner Vetter's daughter.
From what I heard, she's pretty young...younger than Flanagan by a few
years.  No idea what she looks like.  Might ask Natalie; I'm sure
they've met at some point."  Schanke perked up, grinning.  "And speaking
of Natalie...she called.  Found something at Morrison's--the probable
source of the poisoning."

"Why are you smiling?  He did it, right?"

"Nope.  His prints don't match.  But, according to him, only one other
person has access to his home."

"His fiancée," Nick supplied.

"Bingo!  Maybe that means we can get out of here early after all.
Wouldn't that be great?"

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

While Schanke didn't get to leave early, they did manage to pick up
Jessica Durham again.  At first she did a repeat performance of her
first time in, but Nick could tell she was nervous this time.  She had
been caught and she knew it.

Between Nick dropping the key to the Hillcrest's house on the table and
Schanke bluntly asking if she intended to kill her sisters next--citing
that Jennifer Hillcrest was already sick--Jessica Durham cracked.
Through her sobs of horror that she had poisoned her sister, she had
only managed to confess to poisoning Paul Hillcrest, but that was more
than enough.  She eventually even told them where to find extra coffee
creamer that she had contaminated.

He told Schanke to go on home after Jessica Durham was booked.  He would
take care of everything else.  His partner had thanked him a bit more
profusely than usual, and asked him to put his name in for the Secret
Santa drawing if they did that before he got back.

Nick had finally started in on paperwork when he felt hands gently rest
on his shoulders, pulling him back.  Immediately he knew it was Natalie,
and he dropped his pen, let the hands pull him back, then tilted his
head back and smiled up at her.

"Schanke told me about your case.  Pretty much wrapped it up with a big
red bow, from what he said."

"Yeah, she confessed.  Still working on the paperwork, though."

"But you let him go home, and you're doing that."

He continued to smile.  "And?"

"And he also mentioned who your partner is going to be."

He winced and pulled away, looking down at his desk.

"I'm sure it'll be all right, Nick."

"I'd rather work alone.  Much rather."

"I know."  Natalie moved and sat on the edge of Nick's desk.

"What do you know about her?"

"She's a resistor, for one."

His attention abruptly snapped to Natalie at that unexpected and
unwelcome snippet of information.

"There aren't too, too many in the department, and I heard her name
mentioned.  From the few times I've met her, I'd believe it."  Natalie
lowered her voice and told him, "Most people don't think very highly of
her because of her father.  In fact, from what I can tell, the rumour
mill grinds her life apart nearly as much as yours.  I definitely don't
agree with their assessment, though.  While I can't argue that she
certainly wouldn't be a detective at her age without her father's
influence, I see her as a strong and independent young woman who would
get there on her own without him."

Seeing Nick ready to protest, Natalie continued, "I'm also fairly
certain she doesn't think vampires are evil incarnate.  I think you
should judge her on her own merit, not as Commissioner Vetter's
daughter, and I think she'll return the favour and judge you on who you
are, instead of what you are.  And keep in mind that she already gets a
lot of crap from people--and to her face as well, and not only because
of who her father is--and it's been that way longer for her than for it
has for you.  Plus, she doesn't need sensitive hearing to know what they
say about her."

He considered this and realised Natalie was right.  The only reason he
himself didn't get a lot of direct comments or confrontation was because
of what he was.  Many were flat-out too scared of him to do anything
more than whisper about him, and then only from a distance.  If they
knew he could and had heard them, he suspected even that would fall off.

"Now, let's talk about something else.  After all, there is another
reason I came over here."

"Which is?" Nick asked, becoming concerned.

"Not much, but...LaCroix did get a letter about the blood substitute,
and boy, is he not happy about that.  It was a generic form letter.  He
wants me to drop by and pick up my sample tomorrow night at nine."

"Is he staying--"

"No," Natalie whispered back.  "Thankfully he's staying at the Raven
because of the shipment."  She paused before asking, "How much longer
will you be here?"

"I plan to leave as soon as I fill that out," Nick answered, gesturing
to the half-completed form he'd been working on when Natalie had come up
behind him.  "The rest can wait."

Natalie smiled, stood, and leaned closer, to whisper in his ear, "Then
I'll just stay right here and bug you."

Nick smiled at that, even as Natalie backed away, touching him ever so
lightly on the back of his neck.  He watched her then head around to the
other side of the desks and sit in his partner's chair.

Shaking his head slightly, Nick forced his attention back to his work,
trying to stave off his worry for tomorrow night.  He had to admit he
didn't get along well with others, at least not at first.  That would
probably be doubly true now that it was common knowledge that he was a
vampire.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (065/111)

The next evening, Nick woke early.  He was having strange dreams about
his temporary partner, everything from her staking him in the middle of
the precinct, to her stopping someone else from doing the same.  It
didn't mean much, he didn't think--and Natalie agreed.  She, of course,
woke each time he started awake.

He didn't even know what she looked like until he walked in to the
precinct and headed toward his desk.  Inwardly, he groaned.  She was so
very young and far different than most night-shift detectives with her
blonde, shoulder-length hair.  She also appeared to be half-asleep, her
head propped up on one hand.

Nick slowed slightly the last few steps to his chair, then he sat, the
noise apparently startling her.

"Sorry," Tracy Vetter muttered, sitting up, her eyes locking on Nick,
widening slightly when he stared at her across the desks, his hands
clasped in front of him.  "I'm--"

"Tracy Vetter," he answered, his voice calm and almost stony.  "Cohen
told me last night you'd be working with me while Schanke was gone."

Tracy hesitated, a bit taken aback by his tone and near glare.  She
broke his gaze and looked down to the desks, hoping this only felt
awkward because she was barely awake, and she apologised, "Sorry again
for the awful first impression.  I tried to take a nap earlier--been
working days--but I think it only made me more tired.  And my coffee
hasn't kicked in yet, either."

"It's fine," Nick said, and ceased staring at her.  Instead, he leaned
forward to go through his inbox, which, as usual, was littered with
several pieces of mail addressed to him.  He was thankful his home
address somehow hadn't found its way into the public domain, and also
that, after that first week, the quantity had slacked off significantly.
He pulled out the three unwelcome letters--two were likely hate mail,
and the third was from a university--and unceremoniously put them in one
of his drawers with others from the last several days.  He glanced
through the rest until he caught Tracy watching him, apparently trying
to get his attention, and he looked up.

"I don't know what your plans are, but do you mind if I work on some
paperwork?" Tracy asked, pointing to a folder in front of her.  "At
least for a while.  After all, I don't know where you are on your cases,
or--"

"Be my guest," he said, smiling slightly.  He rather liked the idea of
them both sitting quietly and not needing to interact.  "I have some of
my own that I should at least start on."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Half an hour later, the ringing of his phone forced Nick to stop
working.  Natalie.  She was otherwise occupied--an unexpected patient,
not that she had any expected ones, other than himself--and had called
to ask if he minded going by the Raven for her.  He, of course,
immediately agreed.

While he didn't particularly want to take Tracy with him to the Raven,
he wanted out of the precinct and suspected she did as well.  Even
before Natalie had called, he had decided it would perhaps be a good
idea to leave, if only so that they could talk without worrying who
might be trying to listen in to their conversation.  Tracy seemed
curious and wanted to talk to him, probably pester him with questions of
some kind; while she worked, she'd kept glancing up and over at him,
which she interspersed with nervously biting her lip.  Nick felt
grateful that she had held back so far.

"Who was that?"

"Natalie," he instantly replied and stood.  "Come on--get your coat."
He started out, not waiting for Tracy, but also not leaving so quickly
she'd have to run to catch up.  By the time he had the Caddy started up
and the heat turned on, she had arrived at his car and was pulling the
door open.

"So, where are we going?" Tracy asked once she had shut the door.  Nick
immediately pulled out of the parking spot and then the lot.

"For the moment, nowhere in particular."

"But you said Natalie--Dr. Lambert--called."

"She did.  She asked me to pick something up for her."  Speaking more
quietly, Nick told her of his ulterior motive, "And I thought we would
get away from prying ears...before you explode with questions."

Tracy blushed, but didn't reply to that, nor ask another question right
away.  Several minutes passed before she commented, "You're not quite
what I expected."

Nick was both curious at what she had expected, and somewhat amused that
she would admit such a thought.  "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know.  Just not--you seem so normal, I guess.  So far, anyway.
But you do look a bit different than the photo they've been showing on
the news," she explained, her gaze locked solidly on him.  "I'm sorry;
you're probably sick of everyone always pointing out what you are."

"I'd rather they'd say it up front than constantly whisper behind my
back," Nick replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

Tracy considered that for a moment, realising he was probably talking
from experience.  From what little she knew--basically the memo they had
given to everyone in the department, and anything she had gleaned from
the news--vampires had amplified senses.  People probably *were*
constantly whispering about him.  And he heard every word.  Trying to
think of a different topic, she commented, "I'm surprised you still
drive this thing.  I mean, considering."

"Considering...what?"

"Well, there aren't too many of these cars around, really; and I'd bet
what you drive isn't exactly top secret.  It's probably posted on the
internet somewhere.  I thought you might get something that would blend
in better."  Then she realised he might not drive it except on rare
occasions anymore, so she added, "Assuming you've even been driving it
lately."

"I'm not sure it matters," Nick told her truthfully.  "Most people avoid
me if they can."

"If you want, we can take my car; I'll even let you drive."

He was surprised, incredulous, and he asked, "Why would you do that?
You don't even know me."

"Maybe not, but I suspect...no, I *know* you've had a driver's license
longer than I've even lived.  That's good enough for me."

After that, their conversation died out again, and neither spoke until
Nick pulled up in front of the Raven.

"What are we doing here?" Tracy asked, staring out the window toward the
lighted sign above the door.

"To pick something up.  I shouldn't be gone long."

"Let me--"

"*You need to stay here,*" Nick pushed, hoping she would be at least
momentarily confused--long enough for him to leave the car and vanish
into the club--and take the hint to stay put.  He didn't wait for her
reaction, but got out of the car and headed inside.

For a moment Tracy felt groggy.  Then, the moment Nick turned away, she
started to recover and realised what he had done.  He had tried to force
her to remain in the car.  Apparently he didn't know she was immune.

As Nick vanished into the club, Tracy got out and started after him,
furious at his attempted trickery.  She hesitated at the entrance,
noting the signs on either side of the entrance that read 'Enter at your
own risk' in neat but rather horror-inspired red lettering on black,
then entered.

Nick had gone straight for the bar, where he found LaCroix waiting,
drinking from a large, full glass.  At first he thought his sire was
disappointed, but then LaCroix turned his attention to a second empty
glass sitting next to an unmarked bottle and filled the glass.  By the
time Nick reached him, the glass was being held out to him.  Ignoring it
as best he could, the blood's aroma unusually strong, he focused on
LaCroix and asked, "Natalie's sample?"

"Try it."

Nick's eyes darted to the nearly full glass, then he forced them back
toward LaCroix with difficulty.  "I'm not here to--"

"Taste it, Nicholas.  You know you want to."

He closed his eyes right before LaCroix brought the glass to his lips.
He had no choice but to do as ordered, lest the blood spill and stain
his clothes.  Immediately he was struck with not just any human blood,
but the freshest bottled blood he had ever tasted.  He raised his hand
instinctively to take the glass, then in one long draught, he drained
the glass, unable to resist the tantalising sensations of the warm,
almost hot, liquid.  His senses were overwhelmed by the rich and potent
blood, and only LaCroix' voice reached him as he slowly lowered the
glass.

"A rather special order," he said, taking the empty glass and refilling
it.  "No preservatives or additives of any kind, and carefully warmed.
Good, yes?"

"Yes," Nick absently answered, hating himself and his maker when the
newly filled glass was pressed back into his hand.  He hesitated a mere
couple of seconds, then drank it as well.  It was far too tempting when
so freely handed to him like this.  He savoured the taste of the blood,
and moments later, he lowered the again empty glass.  He set it down on
the bar, then pressed both of his hands against the counter edge and
closed his eyes.  He tried to push away the thrilling sense of
exhilaration that now coursed through him, but, if anything, it became
stronger.

"More?" LaCroix asked, reached for the empty glass, and pulled it toward
him.  He moved a little closer to his son, then refilled the glass ever
so slowly, letting the blood nearly drip into the glass, as if from a
bleeding wound.  Then, putting one hand on the younger man's shoulder,
he pushed the glass ever so gently toward his son's fingers.  "It would
be a pity to let it go cold, Nicholas."

Nick shook his head, but the base of the glass bumped into his fingers.
He removed his hands from the bar at that, but felt the other man move
behind him, holding him in place in front of the glass of blood.

"Or would you like something...fresher?" LaCroix whispered, an evil
smile on his lips.  "A mortal came in shortly after you.  She looks
rather...delectable, and is creating quite a commotion.  I'm surprised
you haven't noticed."

Nick turned and stared past his sire's horrible grin.  Tracy had been
pushed up against one of the walls by two vampires--one male, one
female, clearly having picked her for a meal.  Suddenly her voice became
audible to him, asking them to please let her go.  She glanced over at
him for a moment, clearly something she had done several times by now,
her expression worried, panicked.  Quite a few of those in the club were
either watching the spectacle or, at the very least, periodically
glancing toward it.  He pulled forcibly from LaCroix' grip and headed
straight for the two vampires.

Neither of the vampires was paying anyone but Tracy any attention.  Nick
grabbed the man by his shoulder and spun him toward him.

Immediately the vampire snarled at the grip and reached for Nick's neck,
likely intending to throw the other interested party back.  When Nick
grabbed the man's wrist, however, the man's expression went from anger
to confusion and then to fear as he was then shoved face first into the
wall next to Tracy.

Nick moved up behind the man and whispered into his ear quietly so that
Tracy couldn't hear, "She's a police detective.  It would be in your
best interests to leave her alone."

The moment Nick released him--with an extra shove--the man scurried off
without glancing back.

Nick's attention then focused in on the woman, who still had a hand on
Tracy's shoulder, but now seemed unsure what to do.  "I suggest you join
your friend.  Now."

The woman hesitated, but when Nick took a step toward her, she snarled
at him and shrunk back, then left to seek better prey.

"Thanks," Tracy muttered.

Nick snapped his gaze at her, and only now did his eyes show hints of
gold.  Not able to easily ask her to leave, he grasped her upper arm and
started back toward LaCroix, pulling her along with him.

Tracy winced, but didn't say anything while she was half-dragged toward
the bar...and Lucien LaCroix.  He smiled creepily at her and completely
silenced any impending thoughts of complaining to her temporary partner.

"For me?" LaCroix asked, grinning in feigned delight.

Nick released Tracy's arm and leaned closer to the other vampire,
whispering to him, "Schanke's on vacation; she's my partner for the next
week and a half."  He paused, then added, "Her father's on the police
commission.  Please be...less like yourself than usual."

LaCroix showed not a smidgen of disappointment at that; in fact, his
smile intensified.  He turned back to the bar, raised his own glass and
drank from it, looking directly at Tracy as he did so.

"Natalie's sample?" Nick asked again, drawing LaCroix' attention back to
him and putting a damper on the other vampire's sadistic pleasure.
"Where is it?"

"Bottom shelf behind the bar.  The box labelled 'not for sale'," he
droned, clearly bored.

Nick passed between Tracy and LaCroix, went around to the back side of
the bar and hunted for the box--a cardboard box tucked away in a
cupboard with 'NOT FOR SALE!' written in LaCroix' hand in large letters
on the side, underlined twice for emphasis.  He pulled the box out and
found it still sealed.  He had to grab a knife to slice through the
reinforced tape to get at the contents.  Inside he found green glass
bottles precisely like those used at the Raven, and those he himself
used when he bottled his own cow's blood.  He withdrew one at random,
closed the box, shoved it back into the cupboard, and walked back around
the bar.

Tracy was torn between watching Nick retrieve the bottle and watching
LaCroix drink what was undoubtedly blood.  She knew, of course, who he
was from the news, and she almost thought she could feel what he
was--whether that was because he was a vampire or a killer, she wasn't
sure.  Or maybe she was merely nervous...

LaCroix finished his glass, turned his attention to the bottle of warmed
blood...then his son's untouched third glass.  When the younger man
turned, gently nudging the mortal to face toward the entrance, he asked,
"Aren't you going to finish it?"

Nick halted and turned slightly.  "No."

"Then leave that with me," LaCroix said, nodding toward the bottle of
synthetic blood.  Noting his son's confused reaction, he smiled.  "I'm
sure I can think of someone else who would enjoy what's left of this
fine vintage.  It would be a pity to waste something so precious, and
it'll go bad before I can finish all of it."

Realising LaCroix meant to take the remaining blood, and the sample
bottle, of course, to Natalie if he didn't drink the glass himself, Nick
stiffened.  She didn't need this, not since she was likely still doing
an autopsy.  LaCroix was lying about the last, however; he could easily
finish what was left without his help, or rewarm it in an hour or two if
he wanted.  His sire was taking advantage of the situation, as usual,
gambling that he would rather comply than argue in front of Tracy.  Not
that it was much of a gamble.  Nick went back to the bar and drank the
blood as quickly as possible, trying not to taste it.

Tracy watched silently, glancing between Nick drinking the blood and
LaCroix' horribly pleased smirk.  She jumped slightly when Nick set the
glass down loudly in a clear display of anger, then resumed guiding her
toward the club entrance.

Once outside, he stopped gently pushing Tracy, then quickly got in and
started the Caddy.  This time Tracy did have to jog slightly to catch
up, and the Caddy pulled away from the curb the moment she shut the
door, the bottle of fake blood rolling toward her on the seat.

Tracy picked the bottle up and examined it.  No label, only a shiny
green wrapper at the top that matched the bottle.

"I told you to stay in the car," Nick snapped after a couple of seconds,
barely controlled anger tingeing his words.

At this, Tracy lowered the bottle to her lap, her own anger rising, and
she turned toward him.  "You could have said why, rather than tried to
force me to stay without giving me an explanation.  In case no one told
you, your mind control or whatever you call it, it doesn't work on me."

"I know that," Nick muttered, not looking over at her.

"Then why did you--"

"I thought you might take the hint, since the first try didn't work," he
retorted, his eyes still focused on the road.  He still felt almost
buzzed from the blood and feared what it would do to his emotions, his
anger at her for following him.  He had this horrible urge to turn and
drink from her.

Tracy was the first to push her feelings away, and she apologised, "I'm
sorry, Nick.  It's just that other people have done that to me and
then...poof!  They just vanish.  It's like 'So long, Tracy.'  So, when I
get dumped like that without an explanation, I've gotten into a habit of
following."  She paused, took in a deep breath, and added, "And thank
you, really, for whatever you did to get them to let go of me."

His anger hadn't dissipated in the least, and he asked, "Didn't you see
the signs?"

"Honestly, with that ridiculous lettering, I thought they were some kind
of joke," Tracy admitted uncomfortably.  "I had no idea I'd walk in and
be hauled off to the side and pinned to the wall for someone's dinner.
Of course, it didn't help that I was distracted--*way* too much stuff
going on in there, you know, some of which is illegal in a...  And I
yelled your name several times, but you seemed distracted, too."

Nick tensed slightly at that, although instead of replacing his other
emotions and desires, now he was angry with himself, in addition to
LaCroix and her.  He hadn't even heard her.  It was LaCroix, of all
people, who had eventually alerted him to Tracy's plight.  He had
screwed up--royally.  He should have either told her flat-out it was too
dangerous, or taken her in with him, anyway.  At least she would have
been safer if he had escorted her inside, rather than letting her come
in alone several seconds behind him.  Slightly.  Right now, he wasn't
entirely sure she was truly safe there in the car with him.  Then,
nearly sneering, he asked, "Do you intend to tell your father what
happened?"

She grimaced and shook her head emphatically.  "No, I'm not going to
tell him--I'm not his personal assistant.  If I said something, he'd try
and get you fired...over something that was my fault, not yours."  Tracy
rubbed her neck.  It was sore from her misadventure at the club--the
female vampire had wrenched her neck rather hard to the side at one
point while examining her.  The slight pain and feeling as if she was
being inspected in the same manner as an entrée at a restaurant bugged
her far more than Nick snapping at her.  "At least now I can say I've
seen a vampire's fangs--and it's probably a good thing they weren't
yours."

He became slightly concerned at this, now noticing Tracy's action at her
neck.  He had no idea what had happened from the time she entered the
club until LaCroix pointed it out.  His concern trumped his anger for a
moment, and he sounded far more reasonable when he asked, "Are you all
right?  They didn't--"

"I'm fine, I think.  And, no, you stopped them before they actually did
anything.  Again, thanks for that...although I'm a bit surprised how
easily you pulled the guy off.  At first I thought he was going to shove
*you* away."  Tracy turned the bottle in her hands, thinking about the
bottle on the bar and what Nick had drunk.  "He's kinda pushy, isn't
he?"

"Who?" Nick asked, confused by the apparent change of topic.

"That guy at the bar, LaCroix.  It didn't look like you really wanted
that drink.  And, I'm not talking about that last one, but the first
one.  I have a feeling you're no more fond of your, er, father's
meddling, than I am of mine.  Probably less so.  At least my dad and I
get along most of the time.  He just pays a bit too much attention to my
career."

After a pause, she held up the bottle, examining it.  "So what is this,
anyway?  Is it that fake stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Is that what he was making you drink?"

He nearly laughed before answering, "No."

"And why was he concerned it would go bad?"

Nick hesitated, but eventually told her, nearly laughing as his emotions
were once again taken over by the reminder of the potent blood he had
drunk, "No preservatives," hoping he didn't have to explain what that
meant.  When Tracy went silent and stopped asking questions, her heart
speeding up a bit, he knew she had made the connection.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (066/111)

As the Caddy pulled into the morgue parking lot a few minutes later,
Tracy asked glumly, "Are you going to make me 'stay' again?"

Nick glanced over at her once he had parked his car and turned the
ignition off.  "No."  After opening his door, he nodded toward the
bottle.  "Bring that with you."

Tracy got out and followed Nick inside, still twisting the bottle
periodically in her hands.  She gave a weak smile to him when he held
the door open into the actual autopsy room and Natalie's office.

Natalie glanced toward the door and her visitors.  She was mid-autopsy,
and immediately noticed that Nick seemed a bit off.  She set down her
tools and pulled her gloves off.  "They put it in bottles?" she asked,
looking first to the bottle in Tracy's hands, then to Nick.  "Or did it
not come in and that is some sort of...present?"

"No, I think LaCroix made him drink *that* by some of what he said,"
Tracy answered and walked forward to hand the bottle to Natalie.  "As in
literally forced him to.  Or, well, as much as he could in a public
place."

"Drink what?" Natalie asked, focusing on Nick.

"I'll tell you later," he answered, barely whispering.

Almost simultaneously, Tracy nervously stated, "I got the impression it
was, er, quite fresh or something.  I think it made him so distracted he
didn't realise I'd followed him in."

He turned toward Tracy, who was glancing back at him, and glared at her.

Tracy tensed at seeing the gold in his eyes, and she muttered, "I'll go
wait in the car," and left.

Once sure Tracy was out of earshot, Natalie asked, "I take it things
aren't going well?"

Nick didn't answer, other than turning his barely controlled glare
toward Natalie.

"Was she right?"

Smiling oddly, he answered, "As LaCroix put it, 'as fresh as it
comes--no additives.'  And warmed to human body temperature."

Natalie lowered her eyes.  "So...how much did you have?"

"Three glasses."  He stared at the body on the autopsy table for a
moment, feeling hungry but queasy, then averted his gaze.  "It was
too...  I couldn't *not* drink it after I tasted it, and then he
refilled the glass and shoved it straight into my hand.  I managed to
ignore the third glass initially, but then when we got ready to leave,
he vaguely mentioned someone *else* might enjoy it."

"Me."

"Exactly.  And with Tracy standing right there...I couldn't help it,
Nat.  I just wanted out of there, so I drank it."  He started to pace,
his thoughts racing.  "I know you said she was a resistor, but when I
told her to stay in the car, she started to protest and I kinda forced
it...but she came in anyway.  Nearly ended up as a meal for two
vampires.  And I was so distracted I didn't even notice she was in
trouble.  It was actually LaCroix who pointed out her predicament to
me."

"Nick?" she called and started toward him, trying to get him to stop
pacing.  She took his arms and held them in place.  "Are you all right?"

"No," he whispered, looking away.  "No, I'm not all right.  I still
feel...it was almost like killing, Natalie; so fresh, so warm.  So
*alive*."  He closed his eyes.  "I almost feel out of control, but at
the same time, I'm not.  I'm..."  His eyes flared fully gold.  "I hate
the fact that he can manipulate me like this.  Yet at the same time, it
feels so--I feel so..."  He shook his head, unable to make himself say
it, say that he felt so horribly good, liberated, and in control.  "Damn
him to hell!"

As Nick tried to walk off, Natalie held onto him.  He seemed unable to
remain still, but he also didn't pull away as she had expected he might,
as he would have a few weeks ago.  "Nick--"

"On the way here, I wanted to--  I had this urge to--"  He shut his eyes
tighter, bowing his head.  Again, he couldn't make himself vocalise that
thought.  While Tracy wasn't within earshot, he could imagine what she
would think if she knew how he felt right now.  "I can't go back to the
precinct.  Not right now.  Not like this."

"Then don't."

"I'm not even sure she's entirely safe with--"

"Then tell her."

He opened his eyes, now blue and frightened.  "What?"

"Tell Tracy what happened at the Raven, what he made you drink and how
you feel as a result."

"No."  He shook his head vigorously.  "No, I can't--"

"Nick, tell her," Natalie insisted.  "It looks like the two of you have
already gotten off to a bit of a bad start.  She's also smart enough
that she's already guessed correctly what it was that you drank.  And,
frankly, she seemed a bit concerned.  Either let that concern about you
turn into concern for her own safety and possibly turn her against
you--or tell her.  Tell her the truth."

He shook his head again, but with less certainty this time.

Natalie released his arms and brought her hands to his face, stopping
his action.  "Nick, do you need to take my blood?  Or need--"

"No.  More blood won't help.  That's the last thing I want...or need,"
he muttered, staring at a cabinet.  He laughed ever so softly again.
"It's like...how I felt after I started drinking human blood again.
Exhilarated.  Stronger.  More whole."

"But more on edge too, right?" Natalie gently asked.

He felt his anger rise at that, but pushed it away as he nodded.

"Just tell her.  Or at least apologise for being a bit out of sorts so
she knows it's not anything she's done.  You don't have to be overly
detailed.  Just don't wall yourself off like you're prone to doing."
Then, teasing, she suggested, "You know, I could make up one of my
protein drinks and drop it off later.  That might fix things..."

He smiled at that, shaking his head slightly again.  It would probably
'fix things', as she put it, but it wasn't an idea he was eager to jump
at.  He pulled her hands down and backed toward the door.  He gave the
body on the table one last cursory glance, then left, walking slowly
down the hall outside Natalie's lab toward the exit.

Nick paused for a couple of seconds at the door, trying to decide if he
would tell Tracy...and what he would tell her if he did.  Finally, he
headed outside and to the Caddy.  He got in and started the ignition.

Once they were back on the road, Tracy suggested, "We can go back to the
precinct."  When he didn't reply, she whispered, "Really, I don't mind.
I can tell you're not thrilled about having me as your partner.  I
should have listened to you and stayed in the car.  Both at the Raven
and just now.  Actually, I probably should have just stayed back at the
precinct," she sighed with an air of resignation.

"No," he whispered back.  Then, stronger, more determined, he said, "No,
I should have had you come in with me at the club."

Tracy didn't have anything to say to that.  Perhaps he should have, but
she still probably should have stayed in the car after he had told her
to.  It wasn't really either of their faults.

"You know, you two didn't seem to get along all that well.  You and
LaCroix," she eventually said, then waited for Nick to reply.  When he
didn't, she continued, "Everyone thinks the two of you are exactly
alike.  Or at least that you're like him."  Again, he didn't turn to
face her; instead he stared forward, apparently lost in thought...or
maybe he flat-out didn't care.  "I'd rather go back to the precinct if
you're going to keep doing that."

"Doing what?" Nick asked, glancing toward her, nearly glaring at her.

"That.  Looking at me like that."

He took in a deep breath.  How was he supposed to tell her anything
about how he felt?  Eventually he simply blurted it out, "He ambushed
me."

"That was pretty obvious from where I was standing.  Or, well, shoved."

"And...you were right."

"Right?  About what?" Tracy asked, forgetting about her reply to
Natalie.

"The freshness of the blood.  And how it affected me."

"Oh."  Tracy looked down at her hands.  "Is that why you were, ah, so
distracted and didn't know I was there and needed help?"

"Probably," he answered.  "I still feel...off...from it."

"Is that why you keep glaring at me?"

Nick hesitated, considering and realising how very much that blood was
affecting him.  "Probably," he repeated.  "I'm sorry about that, but I'm
not...I'm not angry at you."

Tracy relaxed a little before she realised who he was angry at: LaCroix.
And maybe himself.  "What about the fact that I followed you?"

He waited a few seconds, thinking it over before he replied, "No, I'm
not upset.  If there's a next time, either make sure you're with me
or--"

"Stay in the car.  Yeah, got that."  She fidgeted slightly, then told
him, "And don't try that on me again...your mind control or whatever.
And, no, I'm not going to tell my father about that, either."

"Is he using you to spy on me?" Nick asked, half curious and half
teasing.

Tracy couldn't hide all her discomfort at the question.  "Well, that's
actually how I convinced him to let me do this.  Promised to give him
some kind of report."  After a quick pause, she continued, "But don't
worry.  I'm not going to rat you out on anything.  Certainly not
anything from tonight, even though I probably should report some of what
I saw in that club."

"Why not tell him?  He'd be thrilled, the commission would be thrilled,
and you'd--"

"Don't," she said, ticked, raising her hand between them.  "I don't want
to be shunted off sideways or promoted or...whatever.  And before you
say it--and don't bother to deny planning to, since everyone brings it
up eventually--yes, I know I wouldn't be a detective yet if not for my
father.  But that doesn't mean I can't do my job.  What I really want is
a permanent partner.  One willing to accept me on my own merit."

Nick half-smiled at her tirade.  "I can relate to that."

"I'll bet you can," the woman said, matching his half-smile.

"So you want to stay a detective?"

"For more than a few months at least.  It's what I've wanted for a long
time.  Maybe in five or ten years or so, I'll reconsider."  Tracy turned
toward him, then commented, "You apparently like it, too.  Or is that a
by-product of being stuck in, what...your early to mid-thirties?"

"Possibly a bit of both."

"Okay, so I guess my question is, would you take a promotion if you got
it?"

Nick had to think on that one.  He'd never really been put in that
situation.  He rarely stayed anywhere more than a year or two, maybe
three.  Already he had been in Toronto nearly six years.

"If you don't want to answer, that's fine.  I'm just curious."

"I honestly don't know," Nick said.  "It's not something I've ever had
to think about."

"Because you've always left first, right?"

He nodded.

"Well, you won't need to this time.  Should be fun, right?"

He zoned out a bit at the thought.  'Fun' wasn't his word for it.  He
already felt like he had stayed too long here, even before vampires were
outed to the world.  He had only stayed as long as he had because of
Natalie.

"Nick?"

Glancing back to Tracy, he tried to manage a smile.  He failed
miserably.

"Oh, and by the way, been meaning to ask what you want me to call you.
I know some people are touchy about it--you know, the whole first name's
too personal thing, or hate nicknames or shortenings.  Me, I don't
care."

Now he smiled slightly.  Maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.  He
did feel better now than after he had left the Raven, or even left the
morgue.  "Nick is fine."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"So, how did it go?" Natalie asked when Nick arrived back at the loft,
before the elevator had even slid shut.

"Better."

"Just...better?"

He hesitated, then replied, "Better than I expected."

"That's it?  No details?" she prodded further, approaching Nick, who was
pulling off his coat, jacket, and shoulder holster and avoiding her
gaze.  "Nick?"

"She's not Schanke."

Natalie smiled at that.  Schanke had been his only 'real' partner the
whole time he had been in Toronto.  And then, even when he had worked
with others, he had a habit of doing his own thing--he even did that
with Schanke.  She put a hand on his arm as he dropped his things on the
chair.  "But?"

"I really don't know yet," he said and turned.  "After we got back to
the precinct, we mostly worked on paperwork.  And I'm not sure it
matters, anyway.  We're...it's temporary."

She nodded, then gingerly asked, "And what about you?"

"I still feel...off."  He pulled carefully out of her touch.  "I'm not
going to have anything.  In fact, I think I'll just head up to bed."

She watched sadly as Nick flew up to the bedroom.  A few moments later,
she heard the shower turn on.

When she checked on him a few minutes after she heard the water turned
off, all Natalie found was Nick, dressed for bed, lying uncomfortably on
his back under the covers, apparently already dreaming.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (067/111)

The following night, shortly after his shift started, Nick stopped
midway through reaching for a pen when he felt another vampire nearby.
The fresh blood from the night before--and the even fresher blood from a
few days ago--had amplified his senses.

"What?  Something wrong?" Tracy asked, noticing him freeze mid-motion.

He turned and relaxed when he saw Natalie approaching.  He wished he
could differentiate her from other vampires like he could usually do
with LaCroix.

"First," Natalie said, putting a folder down on Nick's desk, "I'm sure
you'll need that for your report."

He fingered the folder as Natalie touched his shoulder.

"And, since you skipped both dinner and breakfast, this is also for
you."

He started slightly when a plastic travel mug was set in front of him,
on top of the file.  He cautiously prodded it, taking the lid off.  He
recoiled at the milky white, almost shake-like liquid inside and quickly
re-covered it.  "Oh, no, you didn't..."

"I did.  And, yes, I know it tastes like mud, but at least it's
nutritious."  Natalie pulled a small plastic bag out of her jacket
pocket.  Instead of putting it on Nick's desk, however, she turned and
handed it out toward Tracy.

"What's this?" she asked, taking the bag of brown powder and examining
it curiously.  It looked rather like...

"Cocoa powder and a little bit of sugar.  If Nick doesn't drink it
all--which, well..."  Natalie glanced over at him--he was glaring at the
cup, turning a little green.  "He won't--add that and you'll have a
super-duper chocolate protein and vitamin drink."  She turned fully back
to him.  "And I *do* expect you to drink at least a little bit of it,
Nick."

"You know I--"

"If I can drink some without spitting it out into the sink, you
certainly can; the mud reference was not a guess."  She looked back at
Tracy.  "Make sure he does--"

"Or what?" he asked, half playfully and half rather seriously,
interrupting her.

"--at least try it," Natalie warned him, then turned to his young
partner before adding, "and make sure he doesn't just toss it out--it's
actually pretty good with the chocolate powder.  Again, from
experience."  She glared back at Nick, walking back over to him.  She
leaned closer and whispered to him, "I know you don't want it, but maybe
a sip or two of it--yes, Nick, two if you can manage it--might make you
feel a little better.  Or at least not so strung out."

He nearly protested, but knew she was right.  Even now, a full day after
he had drunk the warmed, fresh blood at the Raven, he still felt odd.
In a way, it was actually worse than having killed, or perhaps it was
because he had done exactly that so recently that this had affected him
so much.  As soon as the sun had gone down earlier that night, he had
left...to drive.  Later, when he had arrived early at the precinct, he
had dropped off the Caddy and flown for a while.  First to the Raven,
then the loft--by which time Natalie had left--and finally back to the
precinct.  As soon as he arrived, he had started in on finishing up his
and Schanke's reports.

By the time Nick had recovered from his thoughts, Natalie had left.  He
vaguely remembered her kissing him on the side of his face, but that was
it.

"So, you've had that before, huh?"

He glanced back across the desks, where Tracy was eyeing his shake.  He
picked it up, stood for a moment, and set it on her desk.  "Here.  You
can have it."

She shook her head.  "Natalie said you're supposed to at least try it."

"Would you still drink the rest after I drank from it?" he asked, hoping
for a way out.

Tracy shrugged.  "From what I've heard, you guys are pretty much
germ-free.  So, sure, why not?"  When he continued to stare at her as if
it was the last thing he wanted to do, she got up and retrieved a
styrofoam coffee cup, took the lid off the mug and poured some of the
contents into the cup, then passed the smaller cup over to Nick.
"There."

He took the cup with several swallows-worth of the foul smelling
concoction.  He really, really didn't want it, but knew Natalie would
ask later...and knew she would be able to tell immediately whether or
not he had done as she'd asked.  She could read his reactions far too
well.

He nearly took a small sip before realising both his and Tracy's actions
had piqued the curiosity of several people in the bull-pen.  He was now
being closely watched...and so was Tracy.

Tracy, however, didn't even notice their audience as she first tasted
the unusual liquid as-is, scrunched her forehead at the strange,
sweet-but-not taste.  Not satisfied, she dumped in the chocolate powder,
which she stirred with a straw she had gotten when she had retrieved the
cup for Nick.

He watched her, curious what it tasted like to her.  Natalie had, of
course, drunk most of her concoctions in front of him at some point, in
an effort to get him to try them.  He hadn't been aware she had actually
drunk some of what he had left.  When Tracy took a sip, he instinctively
winced, but was surprised at her reaction.

"This is actually really good," Tracy said before she took another,
longer draught from the cup.  "Could use a tad more sugar, but it's a
ton better than those fake chocolate meal replacement things."  She
nodded faintly toward his cup and again asked, "So, you've had this
before?  Or the plain version?  I'm guessing chocolate powder wouldn't
make it taste any better to you."

To avoid answering a second time, Nick raised his cup, braced himself,
then took a single mouthful of the foul smelling liquid and forced it
down.  It tasted even more disgusting than he remembered--perhaps
because the last time, he had both been drinking cow's blood and been
cutting back on it...or trying to.  Immediately he felt not only queasy,
but hungry.  At least this time he didn't want to kill whatever was
within sight.  Without thinking further, he crumpled the top of the cup
and dropped it in his trash bin.

"Knight, Vetter."

Nick turned toward the voice, which was oddly close.  Cohen also
appeared a little too calm while she handed a piece of paper out to him.
He unfolded it, and immediately noted the address was outside the 96th's
jurisdiction.  "Captain--"

"I'm sorry, this is one of those cases you're best qualified for."

"Best..."  He trailed off immediately.  Vampires.  It had something to
do with his kind.  "What is it?"

"Either a murder victim or a suicide--ashes."

Nick nodded and pulled his jacket off his chair, then reached for his
coat.

"Ashes?" Tracy quietly asked, following him.

He didn't answer while they headed outside.

Getting into the passenger side of Nick's car, Tracy again asked, "By
ashes, did she mean--"

"The victim was likely a vampire."

She didn't say anything for several minutes after that.  She had brought
the drink with her, and was occupied by that and her thoughts.  Finally
finishing the beverage, she asked him, "I guess you can't eat or drink
anything other than blood, right?"

"Not really."

"Do you, well, taste what it actually tastes like at all, or--"

"Not really."

Tracy looked at the plastic mug, then quietly asked, "And you're 800,
which means you've never tasted things like chocolate, potatoes, or
tomatoes?  Not even when you were human, right?"

"Mortal," Nick corrected, then confirmed, "And no, I've never had any of
those things.  They were--"

"Brought from the Americas.  I know.  I just...I wasn't sure what people
ate back then, so--"

"Not as differently as you probably think."

"It wasn't only bread, meat, cheese, and wine, was it?"

He smiled slightly at that.  "No."

"Do you--I probably shouldn't ask this, but do you remember what things
taste like?"

Nick's smile vanished, and he whispered, "Some things, but not
everything."

"Sorry.  Yep, shouldn't have asked."  Then, quickly thinking of some way
to change the topic, her eyes darted to the car's controls and her hand
shot toward the volume for the radio.

He winced the moment LaCroix' voice filtered through the speakers.

"Poison, willingly taken, is sui--"

He flipped the radio back off.  He didn't want to hear LaCroix'
thoughts--even without the radio, he could hear them echoing in his
mind.  LaCroix wasn't pleased with him at all.

"It's okay," she said, even when Nick shot a glare at her.  "To be
honest, I've listened to him out of curiosity.  I don't mind."

"But I do."  With that, they both went silent again until they pulled up
at the designated address.

After a cursory glance of the general area, Nick got out and talked to a
uniformed officer at the scene, while Tracy called in their location.

Nick waited at the door into the apartment complex for Tracy, and they
took the elevator up to the top floor, then the stairs up to the roof.
Here were more officers and, neatly on the east side of the roof, was a
pile of fabric and ashes, a porcelain heart-shaped jewellery box sitting
neatly between the remains and the edge of the roof.

"Nick--"

"A suicide," he answered softly, kneeling near the ashes and bits of
fabric.  They were the remains of a dress, by his guess.

"How are you sure?"

He scanned the items again, then whispered, "No sign of a bullet or any
sort of arrow.  And she was facing east."  He stood and stared out
toward the horizon.  "Toward the sunrise."

Tracy watched Nick again kneel next to the items on the ground, and
seeing his eyes on the box, she pulled out a pair of gloves and held
them out.  "Here."

Turning, he was slightly surprised by the gloves dangling next to him.
He took them and, not actually putting them on, carefully lifted the lid
of the box.  Inside were a few pieces of jewellery, a photograph of two
women, and a very short note written in French.  A suicide note.  All it
said was, essentially, "Charlotte, forgive me.  Lisette," in a dainty
script.

"Nick?"

He turned, hearing Natalie's voice, and replaced the lid of the box.
She was looking at him oddly, and he knew why--she must have been told
it was a likely suicide on her way here.  And she knew he had vaguely
considered doing such a thing himself, even though it was something far
from his mind at present.  The scene affected him more than he wanted to
admit, and he turned away.

"He had some of that drink of yours," Tracy offered up, noticing the
tension between them.

"I know," Natalie whispered, approaching Nick and kneeling next to him.
"Is it--?"

"Yes."  He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

"Was this what LaCroix was referring to?" Tracy quickly asked, then
watched the two pass a glance between each other.  "Or am I missing
something?"

"I believe the rest of what he said would have been that 'Poison,
willingly taken, is suicidal whether or not one dies from it.'  Or
something along those lines."  Nick looked to the remains and
left-behind belongings.  "He wasn't only talking about this, a literal
suicide, but small, seemingly insignificant actions that slowly weaken
one, useless actions in an attempt to escape.  And that, either way,
it's not a solution."

"But you don't think that?" Tracy asked, noticing something in his
voice.

Nick glanced to Natalie, who seemed eager to hear his response as well.
"I don't think suicide is a solution to most problems.  But I do
understand why a vampire might choose it."  He stood and started away.
"I'm going to see if the building manager is here yet."

Tracy hesitated a moment, then started after him when he headed back
inside.  "Nick, wait."  She grabbed his arm when he started down the
next flight of stairs, rather than exit back into the hall to go to the
elevator.  He stiffened and glared at her, and she let go.  Then he was
gone, vanished down the stairwell right in front of her.  After she
recovered from the shock of seeing him move like that, she hurried down
the stairs, even though she soon heard the door open and close far below
her.

By the time Tracy reached the ground floor, Nick was already talking to
a man she hadn't seen before--the building manager, likely, given the
large set of keys in one hand and a folder in the other.

"Is there a Charlotte or Lisette?"  He paused, stiffening again when
Tracy approached him from behind, but he then continued, "Or maybe an
Elisabeth?"

The man turned toward Tracy, and after she flashed her badge, he
consulted his papers.  "No Charlotte.  No Lisette.  But there's an
Elisabeth Fay in 316."

"What do you know about her?" she asked.

The man shrugged.  "Young woman.  Quiet.  Always good on the rent.
Never had an issue with her in the seven years she's been here.  I think
she was originally from Montreal."

Nick nodded at that.  Seven years was a long time for a vampire to stay
in one place, especially in a large city in the end of this century.
"We'd like to see her apartment."

"I don't know about that..." the man started, nervous.

"We believe your tenant is likely dead, Mr. Walsh," Nick harshly stated,
then suggested, "If someone answers, we know to look elsewhere."

Mr. Walsh hesitated, but eventually nodded and started toward the
elevator.  Neither Nick nor Tracy spoke on their way up, not until they
reached the door and Mr. Walsh tried calling for his tenant.  Nick did
the same, and when there was no answer, he nodded to Mr. Walsh, who
found the key and opened the door for them.

Tracy muttered thanks to him as the man told them he'd be downstairs if
he was needed.  She followed Nick into the apartment and let the door
shut behind her.  Immediately she was struck by how very bare and boring
the apartment was.  It was simple, and what few items were present were
dark, giving the place a gloomy and depressing atmosphere.  An old,
wine-coloured couch, black recliner, painted black wood furniture.
There were a couple of what appeared to be well-tended plants by the
balcony.

She immediately noticed a lack of other items.  There was no television,
no phone that she could see, and the kitchen was even more bare and
immaculate than the rest of the apartment.  While Nick headed for the
bedroom, she headed to the kitchen and the refrigerator.  She pulled the
door open, only to find it empty.  It wasn't even plugged in.  Then,
instinctively, she searched for the trash, which she found under the
sink.  Inside a plastic recycle bin were three clean wine bottles and
nothing else.

Next she started after Nick and found him in the bedroom, looking
through drawers.  He was putting a sheet of paper into an evidence bag
when she approached.  "Nick?"

"A handwritten will."

"So it's--"

"Definitely a suicide."

Tracy became nervous as she took the bag from Nick.  She could only read
parts of the document--it was written entirely in French.  "I want to
ask you something..."

He nearly walked off again, but he knew what her question was and he
told her, "Your answer is yes.  I've considered it...fleetingly,
anyway."

"Can I ask why?" she blurted out.  "Not you specifically, but why a
vampire in general might kill themselves."

He considered telling her, but eventually responded with a solid, "No."
He didn't think Tracy would have to think too much to realise there were
several reasons why a vampire might not want to live forever.  She could
surely guess the more obvious ones, such as having to drink blood and
simply getting tired of merely existing.  That didn't even factor in the
new problems that stemmed from the fact that vampires had recently
transitioned from myth to reality.

"It's okay.  Got it--too personal a question."  She looked around the
room, again noticing the lack of technology, beyond the basics.  "Is
this normal?"

"What do you mean?"

"The lack of a phone, television...you know, modern inventions, modern
conveniences, I guess."

"It's not too unusual.  Nor would I say it's usual.  Most vampires have
a mix of old and new."  He glanced to the oddly empty and dust-free
bookcase on one wall.  "I think she either sold or gave away many of her
possessions.  This was planned."

"Does this bother you?"

Nick nearly said that it did, then that it didn't, and finally told her,
"I think these cases are unsettling to anyone.  Or should be."

"Can't argue that."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (068/111)

An hour later, Nick and Tracy arrived at the Raven.  They both knew it
was the most likely place they'd find the identity of Lisette's friend,
Charlotte, whether she was a vampire or mortal.

This time, he had Tracy accompany him.  After all, she had already been
in the club, and she had already had a much worse experience than even
Schanke had ever had while there.

Unfortunately, with Janette gone, LaCroix was now his best starting
point.  He walked up to the glass outside the newly added radio booth,
and casually held up his badge.  Despite the soundproofing, he could
hear his sire chuckle lightly at his action.  He then guided Tracy back
toward the bar to wait.

"He broadcasts from here?" she whispered.

"He does now."

"Probably safer," Tracy muttered, then she got a surprised look from
Nick.  "What?  Well, it is.  I'd about bet he had a few crazy and
not-so-crazy people waiting outside his door."

"Starting a pattern, Nicholas?"

He turned sharply and glared at LaCroix.  Then he pulled out the
photograph from the box and held it out.  "Have you ever seen either of
these women?"

LaCroix' good mood vanished and he politely took the photo, glanced at
it, and handed it back.  "Why?"

"We're trying to identify a suicide victim, Mr. LaCroix," Tracy
supplied, drawing the vampire's attention to her.

"I have seen them both in the club, but I do not know their names."

"When did you last see them?"

"A few nights ago."

Nick held the photo up again.  "Charlotte and Lisette.  Can you identify
one of them?"

LaCroix was about to again say he couldn't, when he saw one of the
women, the redhead, come in through the front doors.  "I do not know
either of their names...however, I believe the woman on the right just
walked in."

Turning partly around, Nick's eyes locked on a red-headed women who was
scanning the club, apparently looking for someone.  He could guess who,
and he started toward her with a glance back to make sure Tracy was
following him.  "Charlotte?" he asked, reaching her.

The red-haired women narrowed her eyes at Nick.  She knew who he was,
but had never talked to him.  "Yes?  How do you know my name?"

He held up the photograph, which was quickly snatched from his hand.

"Where did you get this?" Charlotte asked, her eyes glowing a soft gold.

"From the roof of Elisabeth Fay's apartment building," Tracy answered.

"Lisette?"

"I'm sorry, but we're fairly sure she's dead," he said, shaking his head
slightly.  The woman became clearly stunned and saddened, and he gently
asked, "Would you mind coming down to the 96th precinct?"

Charlotte shook her head and started to back away, eyeing Tracy with
suspicion.

Nick reached out and took her arm as she turned.  "Please?  She left
you--"

Moving closer, she protested quietly to Nick, "I don't want to put my
name on that wretched list!"

"You don't have to.  This has nothing to do with that, I swear."

"What about her?" Charlotte asked.

He glanced at Tracy.  He honestly wasn't sure what Tracy would think,
but technically it didn't matter.  They weren't supposed to test anyone
at random, and it was a personal choice to turn oneself in or not--at
least beyond the first night at the Raven and any accidental
discoveries.  "Tracy--"

Mistaking that for her cue, the mortal detective explained, "Not a
problem.  Unless you're a city or government employee--which you
aren't--or are arrested--which you also aren't--you can't be forcibly
tested, so...no list.  And he's right, this is strictly related to your
friend's death, nothing else."  She shrugged, then noticed Nick looking
at her curiously.  "Now what did I do?"

He shook his head with a faint smile as he finally released Charlotte's
arm.  "Please come by the 96th precinct later.  Keep things in check and
no one will even know what you are."

Charlotte slunk away toward the front entrance of the club, trying to
get as far away from them as she could.

"Charming," LaCroix said, coming up behind Tracy, who jumped, turned
quickly, and moved next to her partner.  "Before you leave, Nicholas...I
have something for you to deliver."

"I'm not your delivery boy."

"In this instance, you most certainly are, since this particular item is
intended for Natalie."  LaCroix grinned.  "The box on the bar--a
gift--from Janette."  When his son started past him, he darted out a
hand and pulled the other man closer.  "You will be careful tomorrow,
yes?"

Nick stiffened.  While the words were calm, almost gentle, he knew this
was a threat.  If something happened to either Natalie or himself...  He
tensed further, feeling LaCroix touch his face and turn his gaze.  Yes,
he could see a flash of gold.

"Nicholas?"

"Don't worry, we'll be careful," he answered, then pulled away and went
to the plain black box on the bar.  He took it without opening it and
started to leave.  He waited at the bottom of the stairs for a moment
until Tracy caught up to him, then started up and outside.  Once in the
Caddy, Nick passed the box to Tracy.

Not able to resist, Tracy carefully lifted the lid once the Caddy had
pulled out onto the street.  "What is it?" she asked, picking up a
rather heavy black cloth.

Nick's eyes darted to the item.  When he saw the clasp--a rose on each
side--he knew what it was.  "A cloak."

"I think it's lined with leather...no, suede.  Nice."

"For protection against sunlight," he muttered, wondering what Natalie
would think of the gift.  Natalie, who really didn't wear many dark
colours, let alone cloaks or even a leather jacket.  Then he explained,
"Natalie has to be in court in the morning."

Tracy folded the cloak and closed the box.  "He said it was from
Janette, right?"

He tensed, sensing where she was going.  As far as Tracy was aware, he
himself had brought Natalie across, not LaCroix.  A gift from a sister
was a bit more understandable than one from an aunt.

"Right?" she repeated when Nick zoned out.

"Yeah."

"Weren't, er," Tracy hesitated, trying to think of the best way to word
it, but failed.  "You're the one who turned her, right?  Made Natalie
like you?"

"Yes," he outright lied.

"So why would Janette--"

"She's...family."

Tracy nearly asked another question, then hesitated when she caught a
glare from Nick.  No more questions, not on this.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

The rest of the night went rather routinely.  Charlotte came in around
midnight, and as she was more composed than she had been at the Raven
and dressed rather normally, she attracted little attention.  Nick
himself drew far more attention if he so much as stood from his chair,
even though it had been a little over a month now since his true nature
had become widely known.  Their case was relatively straightforward, if
a bit less work than a regular case--and being a vampire suicide, it was
even less work than if Elisabeth had been mortal.  No bodies were ever
left from vampire suicides, thanks to not-so-spontaneous combustion.

After work, he and Natalie had to decide how they were going to manage
getting both to the courthouse and, later, back home.  The first was
easy.  The second, not so simple; it meant one of them would have to
drive, unless they stayed until sunset.

During this discussion, Natalie had repeatedly prodded him into drinking
something, but again he refused.  He had felt better, calmer, since the
one awful swallow of Natalie's concoction the previous evening.  He
didn't want to risk being shoved back onto that sharp edge.  LaCroix had
demonstrated how easily that could happen now.

Eventually they had both decided arriving before sunrise was best.
Neither needed to look the least bit singed while there--Nick, of
course, had stayed in the courtroom as long as Natalie needed to stay.

Natalie had done perfectly.  She barely reacted when sworn in, and when
the defence brought up the fact that she was a vampire, she fielded the
question with a smile--not that the prosecution hadn't objected to the
comment.

He was surprised how few people seemed to know that Natalie was indeed a
vampire.  Many were a bit taken aback, and he heard whispers after it
was brought up.  Granted, it was daytime, so no mortals expected to run
into a vampire anywhere.  He himself kept getting second glances when
people realised who and what he was...and probably wondered why he was
in a public building during the day, and how he had managed it.

That, of course, had been simple, due to the underground garage.
Getting home, however, was not so simple.  He had convinced Natalie that
the trunk was the safest place for her to ride.  He had no choice other
than to drive, and that had been painful.  It was difficult to drive,
even at mid-day, without sunlight glancing off buildings and windows and
signs and shining in on him.  Even bundled in two coats, a hat,
sunglasses and gloves, he could feel the burns on his cheeks and chin
and jaw.  Before the injuries could even start to heal, he burned again.

He had driven as fast as he could with his somewhat limited vision, and
stumbled out of the Caddy once back at the loft and inside the garage.
He let Natalie out of the trunk and promptly fell to his knees, weak
from the drive.

"Nick?"  She let the heavy cloak fall into the trunk--Nick had covered
her with it before they left the parking garage at the courthouse.  By
the time she extricated herself from the cramped space, he had managed
to hoist himself back up to a standing position, although it appeared he
might fall again any moment.  He had burns on his face and he was
trembling.  She reached a hand up, stopping short of touching his skin
even before he flinched and pulled back from her.

She silently helped him toward the elevator, letting him lean on her as
it rose, then helped him to the kitchen table, where he sank heavily
into one of the chairs.  She hurried, first retrieving a bottle of blood
from the refrigerator and then a glass, which she set in front of Nick
and filled for him.

He drank the blood greedily, downing it as fast as he could swallow.  He
didn't even taste it.  His only reaction was a slight calming and less
pain from the burns on his face.  Once the glass was empty, he reached
for the bottle and drank straight from it to get at the blood and the
relief it provided.  He relaxed even further, lowering the bottle when
he felt Natalie's hands on his shoulders, massaging his tense muscles.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"I'll be right back," Natalie whispered, then left.

Nick felt slightly stunned at her departure, but continued to drink more
from the bottle until he felt more composed.  The blood no longer
ignited his desire for more, likely because of the now healing burns.

Back in the garage, Natalie retrieved the cloak and shut the Caddy's
trunk.  She nearly started back upstairs, but hesitated instead.  Nick
had refused to let her test Janette's gift in actual sunlight, either
after they arrived at the courthouse, or before they left.

She knew he wouldn't approve, but, ever the scientist, she needed to
know, so she pulled the cloak on and raised the hood.  The hem hit right
above the ground.  It was the perfect length, made just for her, she
knew.  Then, with a pause outside the exterior door, Natalie took a deep
breath, bowed her head, and opened the door.

No light came directly in; she had to actually walk outside and take
several steps from the building to reach full sunlight.  Even at the
door, however, the light was so bright she felt a powerful urge to rush
back inside.  She only hesitated a moment, however, before carefully
edging into the light, holding the heavy fabric and suede against her,
making sure no skin was exposed.

It was only a few seconds before she felt unbearably warm...but she
wasn't actually hurt in any way.  She smiled faintly and returned
inside, closed the door, and slipped the cloak off.  It would work quite
well for her purposes--at most, to go from a car to a building or vice
versa from time to time.

When Natalie arrived back upstairs, the cloak draped over her arm, Nick
was still sitting at the table, staring at the bottle in his hand.

"I think I want to try going back to cow's blood," he whispered, even as
he again drank from the bottle.

She walked forward and draped the garment on the recliner, next to the
box in which it had come, along with a pair of long black gloves that
had come with it.  Then she continued over to Nick.

"Or maybe that synthetic blood," he said, twisting in the chair and
turning to Natalie with a very serious look.

"Nick..."

"I'm sure you've gotten at least some results back on it, right?"

"Yes, but--"

"But what?"

"Nutritionally speaking, I'd say it's more like vampire blood than human
blood.  It's low on some things we seem to need more of--things we end
up universally low on, even when well fed on human blood."

Nick was rather upset at this--he had actually somewhat hoped it would
be a viable alternative to blood of any kind.  Vampires couldn't feed
from other vampires exclusively.  Eventually, one would come up against
the same symptoms of hunger as if one hadn't fed at all.  "Which means
it is not 'live-off-able', as Schanke put it."

"Probably not long term, no.  Not without some sort of supplement, or if
they fixed it--which they might, assuming they realise their creation
isn't so perfect."  Seeing him prepare to ask another question, Natalie
shook her head.  "And you are not trying it, at least not until I get
more results back.  I want to make sure it's free of anything harmful."

"Can you...fix it?"

She shook her head, but more weakly.  "I could add what it's lacking,
but frankly that shake I made you last night is probably already better
than the blood substitute--nutritionally and taste-wise."

"You haven't--"

"No, but even a small sample smells like nothing but a mixture of
chemicals, which is, frankly, what it actually is.  If they've tested it
in a vampire, they've either given it intravenously or force-fed it."
Then, in all seriousness, Natalie told him, "I don't think any vampire
will touch this willingly--not even you, and certainly not me."

"Nat--"

"Okay, I'm sure you'd at least try it--you'd jump at it--but other than
its physical attributes almost perfectly matching those of human blood,
I don't think you'll have any more luck with it than my special shakes."
Natalie relaxed somewhat, frustrated.  "I'm sorry, Nick, but until
someone invents a protein synthesizer like they have on Star Trek, I'm
not sure a near perfect blood substitute will ever exist.  And even
then, it still wouldn't be--"

"Real human blood," he muttered, starting at the bottle in his hands
again.

She nodded.  "It'd still be missing what you might call the 'human
component'.  It'd just be empty."

"But even that would be better.  Acceptable, anyway.  It wouldn't...I
couldn't be pushed too far with it.  And no one would have to die,
willingly or not, for that blood."  He took another swig from the
bottle, then lowered it, cringing in disgust.  "Not like I'm pretty sure
they do for LaCroix' special--"

Natalie took the bottle gently from his hands and put it on the table,
out of Nick's reach.  "And like I said before, I'll switch with you.
I'm okay with that."

"But you might not be able to.  Most vampires can't stomach the taste of
cow's blood, not unless they have no other choice."  He closed his eyes.
"And I'm not even sure I can do it again."

"Is that what you're going to do on your day off?" Natalie asked,
curious, wondering when he might attempt the switch, assuming he would.
Either way, she didn't want to push him.

He slowly shook his head, then sighed.  "I don't know what I'm going to
do...beyond make some phone calls."

Her interest was piqued at this obvious change in subject.  "Phone
calls?"

"I want to make sure my annual Christmas donation to the department
is...completely anonymous this year."  Nick smiled lightly up at
Natalie.  "Since they know my mortal name, they'll connect me to the
Foundation.  Makes it a bit of a challenge."

She smiled back and lightly touched his cheek where he had been burned.
The skin was now fully healed, and he didn't flinch at her touch.
"Well, I need to get some sleep.  Even if it's only a couple of hours."
She let her hand trail down his neck to his shoulder, then leaned
forward and kissed him on the lips.  "Don't stay up all day."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (069/111)

Nick didn't sleep at all the rest of the day.  He didn't even go up to
the bedroom, but instead stared blankly at one of his old horror movies,
trying to distract himself.  It hadn't worked for even a few minutes,
and he finally switched it off halfway through.

The more he thought about switching back to cow's blood, the more
problems he saw.  If he ordered the blood and had it delivered to the
loft, his address could get out.  Short of literally taking the blood,
stealing it, or having it delivered to the Raven, there was a chance
someone would find out--specifically someone outside the police
department.  It was one thing to be teased about his name, but he had a
feeling he'd prefer the taunts from his co-workers for his name and what
he was, to having the whole world laugh at him for his food choices.
And while some of the other detectives and officers obviously disliked
him, none, as far as he knew, had given out any of his personal
information.  They could so easily, if they really wanted and really
despised what and who he was.  He was thankful for that.

And then, however much he hated to admit it, he was significantly weaker
when he drank cow's blood, precisely as LaCroix always told him.  He had
less control and less ability to cope with the more frequent lapses in
control.  Perhaps that was merely his imagination, but he greatly
preferred that extra control or at least the feeling of it.

It wasn't even simply the psychological benefit of the extra control,
but the sheer fact that he was physically stronger.  He knew for certain
that if for some reason he or Natalie were attacked, or something
happened at the precinct, regardless of the reason or target, he would
be able to better handle it if he continued drinking human blood.

And, again, there was Natalie.  Nick had no doubt that she could and
would will herself to drink cow's blood if he switched, no matter how
vile it tasted, but there was her job to consider, too.  She was exposed
to human blood practically every night, her hands digging into bloody
flesh and organs.  It would be difficult for her to be around that, yet
not be tempted, if she were drinking cow's blood.  That was another
thing he had noticed for himself--being at the morgue during an autopsy
was far more bearable now.  He didn't feel the almost overwhelming
temptation he had in the past.

Then, finally, was the question of what LaCroix would do if not one of
his children, but two, switched to drinking cow's blood.  Yes, he would
certainly be displeased, but, far worse, it would also make him appear
weak.  Especially if he couldn't remedy the situation in some way, and
quickly.  One child already flitted away, and two more drinking cow's
blood?  Nick nearly laughed at that thought.  It would drive LaCroix
insane.  But it could also drive him to do something rash.

And yet, if LaCroix would simply stop tempting him, taunting him, he
would be perfectly content to continue drinking the human blood.  It no
longer bothered him as much as it did in the past.  He didn't know why
his sire wasn't satisfied at finally getting him to drink human
blood--for three months now.  He hadn't had a single glass of cow's
blood in all that time.

He had barely thought about switching back--until he had killed.  Even
that...  He still didn't feel as guilty about that as he felt he should.
LaCroix had, after all, picked the perfect victims--those who wanted and
hoped to die by a vampire's fangs.  He still felt it had been wrong.  He
hadn't enjoyed killing, beyond the short-lived physical pleasure of it,
but he had done it.  He could have easily refused, probably even forced
LaCroix to kill the second woman, not that it would have made him feel
any better.  Whether by his hand, Natalie's, or LaCroix', he still would
have been there and felt at least partially responsible, as though he
had killed her himself...even if he hadn't actually done the deed.  And
they would have both died, regardless.

Whenever he thought about this, he wondered more and more what would
happen if he told Schanke what he had done.  He was afraid this would
somehow come back to haunt him, or LaCroix would set something like that
up again, simply to watch him submit.  And if his sire did do such a
thing, he would kill again.  He knew he would.

Perhaps it would be better to talk to LaCroix, explain that either he
needed to stop pushing him off the deep end, or he was going back on the
wagon in titanium chains.  With Natalie.  It wasn't even having killed
that had made him want to switch back, but the blood that LaCroix had
given him at the Raven that had done it.  Together, the two events had
been too much.  Worst of all, he knew that in another few days, his sire
would probably find some other way to tempt him.

Deep down he didn't want to go back to cow's blood.  He knew it wasn't
enough, it could never really satisfy his needs.  Not right now, with
vampires still fairly newly revealed to the world, and not with Natalie,
who was more or less in his care.  If not for those things, he would
have probably already switched back to cow's blood.  And he certainly
wouldn't be considering talking to LaCroix, or trying to think of a way
to explain his urge to keep drinking human blood to himself...and
Natalie.

At that thought, Nick closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the
cushions, hoping those thoughts would melt right on out of his mind or
somehow make more sense.

"Nick?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head slightly toward Natalie, who
stood in front of the bedroom door.  In an instant she was right behind
him, touching the side of his face.  He smiled at the touch; it always
made him feel better, for some reason.

"You haven't slept at all, have you?"

He nearly tried to lie, but settled for a shake of his head.  He took
the remote in his hands and cracked a couple of the windows to let some
light in.  The sun wasn't quite down, although what sunlight got in was
feeble at best and far away from Natalie and himself.  He felt Natalie
sit next to him and snuggle against him, nearly startling him; his
thoughts had wandered off again.  He instinctively pulled her closer,
leaning into her as she did the same to him.

"And?" she whispered.

"And what?" he asked, not even remembering her question from before.

"What have you been doing?"

"Just...thinking," Nick evasively answered.  He wasn't sure what, if
anything, to say to Natalie about this.

"About?"

He shook his head again, although this time he wasn't smiling.  He
already felt as if he were somehow failing or letting her down.

"Nick..." she started, twisting away from him and onto her knees, after
which she moved to straddle him, sitting on his lap, her hands on either
side of his shoulders.

The smile flitted back to his lips, which he was sure had been her hope.
When she kissed him, he couldn't resist.  Not at first.  Then his
thoughts flitted back to LaCroix, and how easily the other man could
manipulate him into doing something he didn't really want to do.
Natalie knew his weaknesses as well as LaCroix did, and he pushed her
back and off him.

"Nick?  Is something wrong?"

"No," he instinctively answered.  Then he relented, breathing, "Yes."
He changed his mind again and shook his head.  "I--I don't know.  Like I
said, I've been thinking."

She nodded when he looked away, and moved closer, but stayed off to his
side, not touching him.  "And?" she gently prodded.

"You won't like it," he muttered, not meeting her eyes.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because...because I don't want to go back to cow's blood," he stated,
then shook his head again.  "I mean, I want to, but I don't think I
can...or should."  He then rambled about how he felt more in control and
didn't crave the blood quite so strongly.  And how he was considering
telling LaCroix not to ambush him again...as well as that if he did, he
would have no choice but to switch, but that he didn't particularly want
to.  Then his rambling started all over again, with the reasons he'd
prefer continuing to drink human blood.

Natalie eventually stopped his words with fingers to his lips.  "It's
all right, Nick."  She caressed the back of his neck, gently touching
his hair.

"You're not...upset?" he asked, finally turning his gaze toward Natalie.
"Or angry?"

She shook her head with a sad smile on her lips at his worry that she
would be angry or upset with his decision.  "No, I'm not upset or
angry."

Nick looked away again, a hint of anger in his voice as he told her, "I
wish I knew why he does this to me.  It's like he enjoys seeing me
miserable.  And I thought we were starting to..."  He bowed his head,
shaking it again.

"Be amiable toward one another?"

"Something like that."  He relaxed slightly, then asked, "Do you think I
should tell him to stop?  Will he listen, or will he just use it against
me?"

"Well," she started, trying not to smile, "I could be wrong, but I think
he'll listen.  And you won't know if he will, unless you try.  I take it
you have a new plan for tonight?"

"Maybe."

"Hmm.  I take it that it doesn't include sleep?"

Nick smiled at that.  "Nope."

"Or anything vaguely related?" Natalie asked, kissing him again, but
only briefly.

"Maybe," he whispered before he kissed her back.

Then, rudely, the phone rang, and after a moment, the message kicked in
in Natalie's rather cheery tone, "You've reached Nick and Natalie.
Leave a message so we can call you back."

"Dr. Lambert--"

She winced at the voice--the captain from the 34th precinct--and hurried
over to pick up the phone.  "Lambert," she answered, then walked toward
the kitchen with the phone, even though she knew Nick could hear every
word on both sides of the conversation.  Within a few minutes, she had
an address and a dial tone.

"Duty calls," he whispered.  "Unfortunately."

"Yep."  Natalie put the phone back, then gave Nick another, even quicker
kiss.  "Will you be by tonight?"

"Probably," he answered with a smile.

"Good.  Although...try to wait until I'm done with my first patient."

He grinned as Natalie smiled at him and backed away, then watched her
fly back up to the bedroom to get dressed for work.

His good mood slowly melted away once Natalie left and he realised he
had planned to arrange that phone call about his anonymous donation.  He
also had some paperwork he had brought home.  That would occupy him
until he had a chance to consider what he would say to LaCroix.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

It was nearly four hours later before Nick went to the Raven.  He flew,
not wanting the temptation to simply drive...and end up wherever his
unfocused mind led him.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the nightclub was the absence
of his sire.  He hesitated once inside, immediately sensing that LaCroix
wasn't there, and considered just leaving.

He forced himself onward and headed straight to the bar, where a young
blonde woman was mixing a drink for someone--blood with an ever-so-small
splash of white wine.  "Where is LaCroix?"

"Who's ask--" she started, then looked up at Nick, recognising him.

"Where is he?" he repeated.

"Out."

"When will he return?" he asked impatiently.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know," she whispered, avoiding his gaze and
taking the drink, along with another glass of plain blood, out with her.

He waited for the young woman to return to the bar, but she didn't
immediately.  The club seemed quiet, the music not as loud, more
customers--all vampires, he noted--drinking than dancing.  He had to
remind himself that it was still somewhat early, and that close to
winter, when the sun set so early, many probably had something better to
do.  By midnight, the club would be as busy as ever.

"Can I get you something?" the woman asked once she returned behind the
bar.

"No," he answered.  He leaned forward on the counter before pushing away
and telling her offhand, "I'll wait in the apartment."

Nick didn't pay anyone else any attention as he headed up to the
apartment--he could feel others watching him, curious about why he was
there.  At least he knew no one would dare follow him.  LaCroix didn't
need locks to keep others out--except perhaps himself, and then only at
times such as now, when he wanted to talk.

Closing the door to the apartment, he paced.  Maybe he should have asked
for something to drink.  He checked the kitchen, but no blood was to be
found.  Of course LaCroix wouldn't bother with a separate supply up
here, not when any vintage he desired was so close below, either in the
club or the basement.

Eventually he settled on the sofa, although he sat gingerly,
half-expecting his sire to walk in at any moment.  He didn't.

Over the next hour, Nick periodically stood and paced restlessly, then
sat back on the sofa or on the recliner, the latter of which was far
more comfortable.  Of course, the one time he actually wanted, *needed*
to talk to LaCroix, he was 'out'.  If he hadn't been awake all day, he
would have hunted the other man down, but he knew LaCroix would
eventually return, curious as to what he wanted.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (070/111)

"Third night's the charm."

Nick woke with a start.  He had dozed off in LaCroix' rather comfortable
chair...which was no longer so pleasant, with its owner hovering above
him.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Nicholas."

He examined the other vampire.  His sire seemed to be in a very good
mood, and Nick could guess why.  He could smell a faint aroma of fresh
blood...very fresh blood.  LaCroix had been out to hunt, to kill.
Brushing the realisation away, he simply replied, "I wanted to talk to
you."

LaCroix smiled.  "You *want* to talk to me?  Another surprise.  I
am...honoured."

Nick's anger was rising at the mocking replies.  He focused on the floor
to avoid his sire's pleasure at his presence, a pleasure which he knew
would soon vanish.

"You're coming back to me, Nicholas," he whispered, stepping forward and
touching the younger man's face, guiding it back up to look at him.  "I
can feel it."

He didn't deny the statement.  In truth, he could also feel it, but
there was a limit to how far he could come back.

"But that is not why you are here," the older vampire stated, narrowing
his eyes, watching as his son pulled out of his light touch and turn
away once again.  Something was tormenting his child, something other
than the usual guilt.  "Nicholas?"

He stood and brushed by LaCroix, stopping several steps past the other
man.  Not turning, he stated, "If you don't stop manipulating me into
drinking *your* preferred beverages, I'm going back to cow's blood."  He
waited, expecting LaCroix to start yelling at him, spin him around and
beat his twisted ideals into him once more, but all he got was silence.
Ever so slowly he turned around, only to find LaCroix still standing
where he was, still staring down on the now empty chair.  Not sure why
the other man hadn't reacted, he softly added, "With Natalie."

LaCroix was too stunned by the abrupt announcement to react.  He hadn't
sensed this distress building in his son.  For once he had been caught
off-guard.

"No comments?  No arguments?"  When the other man continued to stare at
the chair, Nick carefully approached, standing off to one side.  "Did
you hear what I said?"

LaCroix' head jerked ever so slightly toward his son, then he turned and
took several steps away.  He still didn't understand.  He had felt
minimal guilt from the other man, even from his recent kill.  Conflict,
yes, but the conflict was always there.  And if his son truly wanted to
go back to that wretched swill, they wouldn't be talking.  He would have
simply done it, no...ultimatum.  "Why?"

"Why what, LaCroix?"

Spinning to face his son, LaCroix' eyes glowed faintly in anger at his
having to ask.  "Explain."

"Explain...what?"

"Your reasons.  Your--"

"You've never needed an explanation before."

LaCroix looked away.  "I do not feel guilt from you, Nicholas.  I do not
understand your reasons for this...abrupt threat.  Furthermore, I do not
even believe you truly wish to follow through with it."

Now it was Nick's turn to avoid the other's focus.  "I don't."

"Then why are you making this request, this ultimatum?"

Nick hesitated, worrying what his sire would say in reply, then tried to
reason with the older man, "Because having extremely fresh blood forced
on me at random is too much for me.  It's more than I can handle, and I
don't like how it makes me feel.  It makes me more dangerous around the
mortals, and considering how many eyes are on me, those of *detectives*,
no less, that's not a good thing."

"So what, precisely, are you asking me to do?" LaCroix asked, genuinely
curious.  "You will continue drinking human blood if I...what?  Leave
you alone?  Don't ever offer you a glass of blood?  Agree to--"

"Just...don't push me into killing, or half-force warmed fresh blood
down my throat.  Offer whatever you want, but give me the option to
refuse without consequences.  Don't threaten me with any actions
involving Natalie, or take advantage of my weaknesses to get me to do
what you would prefer."

LaCroix laughed, incredulous.  "That is all?"

"Yes," he whispered, still not able to look at the other man.  Worse,
his maker had gone quiet again.  Suddenly uncomfortable, he started for
the door and left.

LaCroix remained standing there, slightly stunned.  He closed his eyes,
again trying to latch onto his son's mood, but all he sensed were
jumbled thoughts of worry...and not his usual worry, either.

But the question was, would he comply with his son's wishes?  He
chuckled manically to himself at that thought.  Of course he would.  It
was such a simple change, he couldn't refuse.

But maybe it was *too* simple.  If he did comply, how long would it
last?  How long until his son gave him another ultimatum?

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"And you just left?" Natalie asked Nick half an hour later as he sat at
her desk, head in his hands.

"What else was I supposed to do?  Other than the lack of yelling or
comments at the start, he reacted exactly like I thought he would.  He
thinks I'm foolish and he's not pleased about my request."  Nick ran his
hands through his hair and bowed his head, then abruptly lowered his
hands and sat up.  "I've probably only made things worse.  Now he'll
probably try making me kill again.  And again.  And..."  He averted his
eyes, then said in a whisper, "And if he finds someone like last time...
Natalie, I don't think I could refuse."

"Did he say he'd do that?"

"He didn't say anything.  He just...asked questions.  Almost everything
he said was a question.  But I could hear it in his voice, practically
feel it.  He thinks it's ludicrous, even though..."  Nick closed his
eyes and anguish crossed his face.  "If he actually would do what I
asked, if he'd stop pushing me..."

"You'd get closer," she finished for him.

All he could do was nod.  "Not that I don't want...  It might actually
be...nice.  However much I hate him or disagree with him at times, he's
still the closest thing I have to a parent."

Natalie smiled at that and leaned against the edge of her desk next to
where Nick was sitting.  She somewhat understood his mixed feelings on
that.  Changing the subject slightly, she asked, "I take it you didn't
have a chance to pass on my message, huh?"

He winced.  He had planned to pass on Natalie's thanks for the cloak--to
LaCroix, since neither he nor Natalie knew how to contact Janette.

"Well, as long as I don't get another patient, I can drop by in a bit to
do that.  Maybe I can even find out which way he's leaning.  Or at least
see if he's in a bad mood or not."  She leaned over and gently turned
his face to her, much like LaCroix had done not long before, although
she didn't know it.  "Now go home and get some sleep.  While I'd love to
take you there myself...I need to finish up with my patient."

Nick's eyes darted to the woman on the examination table for a split
second before they were back on Natalie.  "I'll go home, but I probably
won't sleep."

"Hmm, well, you should try to, anyway.  Otherwise, you can be my
assistant.  I know how much you'd love doing that."

The playful threat was enough to get him out of the chair, and he left
after giving Natalie a quick kiss.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Once she had finished with the autopsy, Natalie quickly cleaned up and
flew to the Raven, hoping she wouldn't be gone too long and no one would
be hunting for her.

Entering, she was struck by how different the club felt and was.  Nick
had told her about the changes, but she somehow thought he had
exaggerated.  He hadn't.  The instant she stepped inside, nearly all the
eyes in the vicinity turned to her, checking her out--probably to see if
she was mortal or otherwise available.

As she walked down the stairs, most of the eyes quickly darted away from
her, although a few kept watching with growing curiosity.  Ignoring
them, she looked for LaCroix and found him rather easily, despite his
odd location.  Not at the bar, but at a booth.  A large swath of dead
space surrounded him, as though no one wanted to get too close for fear
of being struck down.

Starting for him, Natalie felt more eyes on her again and the empty
space around LaCroix grew larger, as if her watchers were expecting him
to attack her the moment she breached some invisible line.

LaCroix, of course, did nothing beyond glance up as Natalie approached,
his expression unreadable as he took a sip from a glass.  "And what
business brings you here?" he asked icily, glaring at her as she took a
seat across from him.

She did her best to ignore his tone and merely answered, "I wanted to
ask you to pass along a message to Janette--that I appreciate her gift
and would like to thank her for it."

LaCroix took another sip from his glass.  "Very well."

"May I ask where she went?"  She waited, but he didn't answer, instead
drinking all that remained in the glass.  "Nick would also like to
know."

"Montreal," he simply answered, his tone again icy, and he slammed the
empty glass onto the table, where it shattered.

Natalie stiffened as bits of glass slid toward her; no, he was not happy
at all.  Even with her gaze on LaCroix, she could sense that the wide
berth around him had become even wider.  She had an odd feeling that the
club had emptied somewhat and she herself had a strong urge to
leave...which she acted on, telling him softly, "Thank you," then slowly
started to stand.

"Remain."

She stopped, tense, then moved back to where she had been sitting...and
waited.  Annoyingly, he stayed silent, staring at and through her, but
she had the feeling it was best not to speak.

After a long moment, LaCroix abruptly picked up one of the larger
shards, the glass blood-stained.  He looked at it and smiled somewhat
manically.  "Reality shatters so simply, into so many pieces..."  He
lowered it to the table and slowly pressed it into the counter, the
shard breaking apart and turning to powder, his own blood dripping into
it from holding the sharp edge.  "Lost into dust, and tears, and blood."

Natalie's eyes were locked on the bloody silica dust and LaCroix'
bleeding fingers, which he then smeared across the table.

"I believe you are aware that Nicholas paid me a visit earlier...and the
reason for that visit."

"Yes," Natalie whispered, but if his foul mood was due to that...  "You
haven't lost--"

"And what are your thoughts on this?  Are you siding with him?"

She clenched her jaw, angry.  "If I have to pick a side, then yes.  Of
course I'll side with Nick.  But in this case you both win.  He won't
have reason to run from you and he can keep his sanity.  Win-win.  I
can't believe you haven't--"

"For how long?"  He picked up another shard of glass, which he used to
create another bloody, sandy pile near the first, but this time he did
it quicker, more forcefully, and the glass broke apart into tiny
splinters.  "How long will it--can it--possibly last?"

She didn't feel comfortable with his questions or actions.  He sounded
so much like Nick did when he was feeling self-destructive, but instead
of directing his anger inward, he directed it outward.

"How long?" he asked less wistfully, angrily even.  His eyes glowed
softly as he glared across the table.

Natalie shook her head slightly.   "I don't think anyone can answer
that."

"Centuries?"  LaCroix lightly chuckled.  "Decades?  Mere years, or
months, or weeks?  Or a few short days?"  He causally picked up another
shard of glass.  "Pick one, Doctor."

"It could be any.  You won't know unless you try.  He wants to try; I
think he'd like it if the two of you were closer.  I'm surprised you
can't seem to recognise that."  Seeing him prepare to obliterate another
piece, she reached out and gripped his hand at the base of his thumb,
forcing the sharp glass to fall from his fingers.

Angry, his other hand darted out and pulled her hand away.  He picked
the shard up and shoved it, not into the table, but into Natalie's now
overturned hand.  Then he pressed his own hand onto the piece, smashing
her hand beneath his.

Natalie did her best to ignore the pain, although she trembled slightly.

"Pick one," he repeated.

"However long before you goad him into hating himself and making both of
you miserable."

LaCroix stood, putting more of his weight on his hand and, in turn, his
daughter's.  Then, in a flash, he released her and left the booth,
Natalie, and the broken glass behind.

Natalie's eyes followed him as he vanished through the door to the
apartment.  Only then did she notice how very empty the Raven had
become.  Other than half a dozen vampires, all on the other side of the
room--and at least one an employee of the Raven--the club was completely
deserted.

She winced upon moving her hand, reminding her of the shard of glass.
It was still jammed into her palm, now bloody on all surfaces, her own
blood mixed with LaCroix'.  She carefully pulled the piece of glass out
and let it drop to the table.  The mess hadn't become much worse than it
already had been, although now some of her blood joined his and the
glass fragments.

"Are you all right?"

Natalie looked up from her already healed wound to see a young-looking
woman.  She had been behind the bar a few moments before.  "I'm...fine."
She absently started to brush the glass into a pile in the middle of the
table, wishing this had happened in the morgue, where she knew where the
cleaning supplies were.

"Don't worry.  I can get that," the woman said, starting to wipe the
table off with a damp cloth that strongly smelled of bleach, brushing
the glass into a small bin.  Then she smiled sweetly.  "It wasn't his
first tonight; probably won't be the last."

Natalie slowly stood, taking care not to touch the now clean table with
the blood on her hand.  She hesitantly left the club, having garnered no
more answers for Nick.  Some of those from inside the club had gathered
outside, and they backed out of her way.  Finally she flew up to the
roof, wanting to get away from the curious and frightened gazes watching
her.

There she paused, walking slowly across the roof.  Reaching the other
side, she stopped completely and held up her hand.  The wound had
already healed, some of the blood having been absorbed.  Wanting to be
rid of what remained, she licked it away, cringing slightly at the
taste.  Sand and red hot anger.

With that, Natalie took off again and headed back toward the morgue.
Her first priority would be to more properly clean up her hand.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (071/111)

The following evening, Natalie dragged Nick into the precinct right
after shift change, far earlier than he generally dared come in.
Day-shift wasn't fond of him, and he found angry gazes shot his way.

Nick, however, didn't complain.  For one, he had already done that while
Natalie shoved him toward his car.  For another, he had promised Schanke
he would put his name in for the Secret Santa.  And, apparently, they
were drawing names tonight.  Now, in fact.

Natalie took several of the pre-cut pieces of paper and pulled a couple
of pens from Nick's desk, handing one to him, along with a slip of
paper.

He took it without complaint and wrote 'Don Schanke' on his.  Folding it
up, he was distracted by what Natalie had written.  Not only had she put
her name on one, but he caught a glimpse of 'Nick Knight' written on a
second, right before she folded both slips.  "Natalie--"

She simply smiled and took the slip from his hands, then took all three
to a small basket.

"So you're doing the gift exchange, then?"

Nick turned and discovered Tracy had managed to sneak up behind him, and
was writing her name on another slip of paper.  "Apparently," he
muttered, looking back at Natalie, who was coming back toward them,
still grinning.

"I asked Cohen--I'm staying here at the 96th, at least for the next few
weeks," Tracy said.

As Natalie arrived back and snaked her arm around his, Nick bent over
and whispered, "I told you I didn't want to do this this year."

"And I told you that it would be good if you did," she whispered back.

"So you just..." he gestured toward the basket.

"Don't complain.  You're good at this kind of thing, even if you don't
think you are."

"It's nothing to do with--what if I draw...Briggs' name, or he draws
mine?  Or Mills'?"

"Well, hopefully he'll trade your name or something and not give you--"

"A crucifix and soak the box in holy water?" he suggested.

"If it helps, I have the same likelihood of ending up with a rather
unpleasant present.  But I'll take my chances.  And you should, too."

With that, they both went quiet and waited to draw from the basket.
Nick drew Schanke's first--William Mills.  Which meant whoever he ended
up with was who he got.  There would be no trading.  While Mills had
left him alone since his mental nudge, he wasn't going to mess with it.
Unless he got Briggs.  Natalie showed him right away who she had
drawn--one of the other night-shift detectives.

Nick pulled Arlene Michaels when it was his turn.  It took him a moment
to figure out who that was, and then only by glancing at the desks.
Once he found 'Detective Michaels' on a nameplate, he knew she was a
day-shift Fraud detective.  At least his half of the gift exchange was
okay...as far as he knew, anyway.

"So, Nick, who'd you get?" Natalie asked, pulling his arm down to see
the small slip of paper.  "Well, that's not bad.  I know for a fact that
she loves anything chocolate, and drinks hot chocolate instead of
coffee.  So, there you go, gift chosen.  See?  Simple.  What about
Schanke?"

He gave her the other small sheet of paper.

She unfolded it and whispered, "Could be worse.  And you didn't switch
them, did you?"

"No.  He hasn't said a thing to me since I--"

"Zapped his brains.  Figured as much."  Natalie folded and handed back
the little piece of paper with Mills' name on it, which she saw him slip
into his jacket pocket.  "You going home, or staying for work?"

"Not sure yet," he answered, glancing toward Tracy, who was now sitting
at Schanke's desk.  "Probably staying."

"Well, have fun, and do some recon for me if you get a chance," she
said, and she waved the slip of paper with the name she had drawn.

Nick smiled slightly, and felt her fingers linger on his arm as she
started away.  Under the circumstances, Natalie could probably do
stealthier reconnaissance on her giftee than he could.  He reluctantly
went around to his desk, but hesitated before sitting, noticing Tracy
watching his every move.

"So, we coming back, or...?" Tracy prodded.

"Which would you prefer?"

"Me?  Probably stay and get it over with."

Nick smiled slightly.  Schanke would probably say the same thing, so he
sat down and started to work.  Reluctantly, he pulled out a copy of the
list of known vampires and scanned it for Elisabeth Fay's name again,
but saw nothing.  She hadn't been in the Raven that night and hadn't
come forward on her own.

Putting it back down, he rifled through his mail as usual and stopped
abruptly on a plain envelope with just his name on it.  He had nearly
tossed it with the rest of his 'fan' mail without looking at it, whether
good or bad, but something made him stop.  Turning it over, he found it
hadn't been sealed; the flap was merely tucked in.

Then it hit Nick that this was the same type of paper LaCroix had used
for his note several weeks ago.  He quickly pulled the paper inside out,
not bothering with caution or neatness.  Flipping it open, he read
simply, "Dawn," in his sire's all-caps print.

That single word didn't help his mood any.  It was yet another thing he
was distraught about.  Going to the Raven at dawn meant having to stay
the day.  Obviously LaCroix had planned this; his sire hadn't known he
would be in early, probably didn't expect him to see the note for
another two or three hours.

Nick glanced up and noticed Tracy watching him again.  They were both
completely caught up on paperwork.  He quickly put the letter back in
the envelope and added it to his junk mail drawer.  He pushed his chair
back and told Tracy, "Come on.  Let's get out of here for a bit."

"You guys can't read minds, can you?  Because that's exactly what I was
thinking."

He smiled as he stood and replaced his chair.  "No, but I think we're
both out of paperwork for the time being."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

An hour and a half later, Nick pulled the Caddy up in front of a rather
large house.  Another mansion-like home, although this one seemed a bit
different--less rich looking, more normal.

"Hey, I know this house," Tracy abruptly said after they got out and
started toward the activity--not in the house itself, but in another
separate building behind it.  "I...er, took riding lessons here when I
was a kid," she added a bit nervously.

"You know the people who live here?"

"Lived.  They sold the place and I stopped coming.  Something..."  She
thought, trying to recall what else she might know.  "I think the new
owners were trainers.  Taught horses rather than people.  That was a
long time ago, though.  For me, anyway."

As they got closer to what was now recognisable as a stable, Nick's
steps faltered upon hearing a horse--a terrified horse--in the stable.
Then he noticed nearly everyone was outside, including Natalie, who was
on her own, pacing quickly.  He went straight for her.  "Nat?"

She glanced up at Nick's voice.  She hadn't even noticed him approach,
which she should have.  "I think it's my fault."

"What's your fault?  How can--"

"It...panicked when I entered.  The mare.  That's why we're all out
here."  Natalie tried to calm herself, then explained, "The horse was
loose in the barn earlier, and the victim's daughter had just managed to
calm her down before...I don't know what I did.  Maybe I just remembered
how much Sydney hated you and...something happened."

"It probably wasn't you," he assured her.  "Unless you changed, or--"

"I didn't at first--"

"Then it wasn't you."

"--but when it reared, I froze and I know my eyes changed then," she
whispered.  "I'm pretty sure that made things worse, much worse."  She
nodded nervously to the other side of the closed bar doors, where a
teenage girl sat on a bench.  "The daughter's over there.  She fell when
the horse reared and her ankle is pretty well shot.  I wrapped it, but
she's going to need an x-ray and a splint, at least, if not a cast or
possibly surgery."

Nick glanced toward Tracy, who started to back away.

"Hey, don't look at me.  I was nine the last time I got near a horse,
and that was a nice little pony, not..."  She gestured toward the barn,
the doors closed, the horse still rather audibly agitated.  "Besides,
unless someone else here has some hidden talent, you're about the only
one who might...  I mean, can't you...?"  She shrugged, not knowing if
he could possibly hypnotise the animal, and not wanting to look foolish
by asking.

Nick raised his eyebrows.  "I'm sure there's someone else here--"  He
stopped, seeing Natalie shake her head.  "No?"

"Nope.  The only one who ever helped with the horses was the daughter.
The son could help, if he was here, but he's sitting in an airport in
Edmonton.  Her husband died of a heart attack two months ago, so no luck
there, either."  Natalie nodded to a couple of officers a short distance
away from them.  "And they're trying to decide which of them is going to
come over here and ask if you can do anything.  None of them knows
anything about horses, otherwise I don't think we'd still be out here."
She saw one of the uniforms start toward them, and she lowered her voice
to a whisper, "Speaking of which..."

"*Can* you do something?" Tracy quickly asked in a whisper.

Nick was saved from answering--he honestly wasn't sure if he could help,
since the horse sounded like it had been thoroughly spooked--by a rather
young officer coming up to him nervously.

Tracy watched him reluctantly agree to try, but he made it clear no one
was to follow him.  Once he disappeared into the barn, she asked
Natalie, "Is he going to...you know...somehow hypnotise the horse--"

"Absolutely no idea," she answered.  "Not even positive that it works on
animals.  Certainly didn't on Sydney."

"Sydney?"

"My cat.  Well, ex-cat...  I don't think I've ever seen Nick--"

"But can't you do that, too?" Tracy asked.

She was a bit taken aback.  Most everyone tried to ignore the fact that
she was a vampire.  No one had ever asked her anything about it or what
she could do.  Granted, she had been careful not to give anyone any sort
of demonstration.  And, to be honest, she hadn't dared try using that
particular ability since LaCroix' lesson on it when she had nearly
completely wiped the memory of one of her techs.

"Natalie?"

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she managed a smile.  "Ah, yes, I
can, but I haven't had much practice."

"But you think--"

"You'll have to ask Nick later.  Sorry, but speculating about him is
like...it'll make your brain hurt.  Besides, I think it's the whole
'Knight' aspect that's behind why they asked him, not the 'vampire'
bit."  She politely moved off after that, not wanting to field any more
questions.

It only took a few minutes before Nick pushed the barn door all the way
open, at which he waited off to one side for Tracy, letting Natalie go
in before him.  The mare was now safely secured in the stall furthest
from the body.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Tracy kept her curiosity to herself until they had finished at the barn
and she and Nick were back in the Caddy.  As soon as they had left the
scene, however, she immediately asked, "So...what'd you do to the
horse?"

"What do you mean?"

"Natalie--and everyone else--said it was a nervous wreck earlier, but
all I saw--  I mean, it didn't seem to mind us in there at all after
you'd done...whatever it was you did."

Nick's gaze darkened slightly, guessing what she meant.  "I didn't do
anything supernatural to it."

Tracy stiffened, sitting up straighter.  "So, just--"

"Some quiet and gentle coaxing.  That's all."

"No extra...charisma?" she asked, somewhat sharply.  "None at all?"

He did smile a little at that, wondering where she had picked that up.
He knew he could be charismatic, but lately he had been guarded around
others.  Either she had heard things about him, or she was guessing.
"Maybe," he eventually muttered in answer.

"So...was it an accident or murder?"

He thought, but all he could think about were odd images from his past.
He hadn't spent much time in barns recently and this was dredging up
memories of hiding, working, and killing in less modern but similar
buildings.

"Nick?"

"I'm fine," he muttered, trying to push his thoughts back to the case.
According to Natalie, it would have been difficult for the victim to
receive all her injuries from a single fall.  Difficult, but not
impossible.  The daughter was far too distraught--probably a factor in
her being injured--to have had anything to do with this.  The son was in
another city and, according to the daughter, wanted nothing to do with
the house or the horses.  The husband had died two months earlier of a
heart attack.  The house was paid off, but the family didn't have any
extraordinary fortune, other than the house and horses--only two
animals, one which had been abused and the other, the one that had been
loose, was a rehabilitated wild horse.  Nothing screamed motive.

"Er, the case?  Accident or murder?  Natalie--"

"--thinks it's likely an accident," he finished, dragging himself out of
his thoughts.  "But it might not be."

"So, what are we going to check first?  Financial records?  Husband's
medical records?  Talk to the daughter?"

"Everything," he absently answered.  They likely wouldn't get the
records that night, and they hadn't really had adequate time to talk to
the daughter; she had left in a squad car for the hospital.  "Until
Natalie is sure it's an accident--"

"I know, we treat it as a homicide.  I just didn't know where you wanted
to start, where you normally started.  That other case wasn't exactly
normal, after all."

Nick zoned off again.  It was odd not having his partner argue with him.
Even if Schanke typically let him take the lead, he often disagreed with
him on their cases.  Cohen hated it--he did sometimes, too, but he also
somewhat enjoyed their sparring sessions.  The couple of times Schanke
had gotten fed up with him bothered him more than he'd like to admit,
though.

Despite trying to focus on the case, he wondered if he and LaCroix would
end up in yet another argument that morning.  This night was too quiet,
too routine.  He knew from Natalie that LaCroix hadn't been at all
pleased about his request...and that it wasn't actually the threat
itself that was the problem.  And he knew from her blood that LaCroix
had somehow hurt her, injured her, although she wouldn't tell him
exactly what he had done.  He hadn't asked again when she reminded him
he could have probably done much worse, and that she didn't want them to
fight and argue because of her.

But that still left Nick's thoughts to wander.  He hadn't even yet
managed to tell Natalie he would be staying at the Raven for the day.
She had been too busy at the crime scene, and he hadn't wanted Tracy to
overhear their conversation.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (072/111)

As dawn arrived, Nick slipped through the Raven's main doors.  He had
left his car at the loft, then flown to the club at the last moment--not
because he had considered not going, but because he didn't want to give
himself the chance to walk off again.

"I was beginning to wonder whether you were coming."

Nick turned from the now closed and locked doors and found LaCroix
sitting at the bar, facing away from him with a glass in his hand.
Another empty glass sat on the counter next to him, and he started
slowly down the stairs and across the empty club floor.  "You knew I'd
come."

"I expected you would arrive well before dawn, not with mere moments to
spare," LaCroix said, not turning to face his son.  He gestured with his
hand toward the bottle and empty glass.  "I'm sure this will meet with
your approval."

Nick walked the last few steps to the bar staring at the bottle.  He
didn't touch it, but simply sat on the stool next to LaCroix and turned
to face his sire.

"No?" he asked, finally turning.  "Then perhaps later."

"I'm here, so either talk or tell me your answer."

"Your answer is, obviously, yes," he half-sneered, as if admitting it
was difficult for him.

"If that is all you wanted to tell me, then you would have put that in
your note and left it at that, or not even bothered with it at all."

LaCroix looked away, to his glass, which he had set in front of him.  He
left it sitting on the counter, not daring to touch it, lest he do a
repeat of the previous night and crush it in his hand.

"LaCroix?"

"What do you really want?"

"What do you mean, what do I--"

"What do you wish for me to do?" he asked again, turning sharply toward
his son, anger creeping into his voice.  "Taunt you further to give you
an excuse to leave, to run from me once again or go back to that bitter
animal blood?  Die at your hands?  For me to depart and leave you alone
to your miserable life?"

"I'm only miserable--"

"Because of me."

Nick nearly shook his head in response, but couldn't.  LaCroix was at
least partially responsible for his misery.  He had, after all, made him
like this and seemed perpetually unsatisfied with him, regardless of
what he did.

"So much for the saying that misery loves company."  With that, LaCroix
once more focused on his glass, which he finished in one long swallow.
"What would you have me do, Nicholas?"

He didn't want any of those things LaCroix had listed, and he felt
concerned by the other man's relative calm and that one comment.
Natalie had said something about him trying to drown himself in his own
misery...  He reached out tentatively to touch his sire's shoulder and
started to ask, "LaCroix, are you--"

"Just tell me what you want!" he said, pushing the gesture of comfort
away.

"I want you to--I want you to accept that I'm not like you; that's all
I've wanted for I don't know how long.  So stop taunting me, tricking me
into doing what you would rather I do in an attempt to mould me into
your own image."  He paused, then grabbed the open bottle on the
counter.  He brought it closer to smell it and was surprised to find a
basic, normal bottle--nothing special--and he filled both glasses.
"And, no, I don't want you to leave, or for you to give me an excuse to
leave, or to kill you.  I--"  He stopped speaking, closing his eyes for
a moment.

"You hate me."

Nick shook his head.  "That's just it.  I *don't*...hate you," he
countered, the last words said harshly.

LaCroix chuckled at that.  "Really?"  His amusement vanished and he
seemed to become transfixed by his now full glass.  Then he whispered,
"Your dear Natalie certainly does."

Again he couldn't say anything to refute the statement.  She did hate
LaCroix, although more for how he treated him than anything he had done
to her.  She also kept that hatred strictly to herself, although he had
seen some of her thoughts in her blood.  She wondered whether or not, if
they worked together, they could kill their sire.  With how in tune his
sire was with his own thoughts at times, he knew LaCroix had to know
about these dangerous thoughts of hers...either directly through her or
through himself.

"Would you, Nicholas?"

He looked sharply to his glass and took a sip from it, wondering if
LaCroix realised they were likely thinking about the same thing.

"Would you agree to murder me with her help?"  He smiled.  "I'm sure you
know you would succeed.  Even on your own you could probably rid this
world of my existence with little difficulty--you nearly managed it
once.  Even I feared you had finally succeeded."

"I don't want to kill anyone, LaCroix.  Not even you."

"Oh, I'm sure you *want* to kill...someone, something, me..."  LaCroix'
amusement faded from his features.  "Granted, doing so has become much
more difficult, dangerous.  I've even heard a few rumours of a new
prison made specifically for us.  Killing solely for pleasure
is...quickly becoming less appetising."

"But that hasn't stopped you yet, has it?  You were out early last
night."

He smiled again at this, waiting for his son to make some disapproving
comment about him hunting, killing.

Nick, however, took in a deep breath, ignoring the confirmation of his
comment.  "Why can't you be content with how I am now?" he asked, then
watched the other man's smile vanish once again.  "I had hoped you would
be...pleased that I'm conforming to at least some of your ideals.  I'm
exclusively drinking human blood again, as you have wanted for well over
a century.  So what if I don't want to kill, don't want freshly drained
and warmed blood?  I get...I probably get enough of that from Natalie.
It might not quite be human blood and I might not kill for it, but in
the past, you would have been thoroughly pleased with me.  Now, nothing
short of--"

"I didn't think you would object," LaCroix whispered.

He stopped at the quiet, oddly non-mocking words.  Truthful words.

"I haven't felt you reminiscing on what you could have or should have
done, not even after you took that woman's life--which I admit was
perhaps a bit..."  He trailed off with a quick and fleeting smile.  "The
other, I'm sure you are aware, was actually intended for Natalie, not
you, but I had hoped you would perhaps enjoy it, considering.  Even now
I feel little guilt from you regarding either of those...events."

Nick took another drink from his glass, thinking.  Why did everything
always have to be so complicated with LaCroix?  And what could he say?
Truthfully, he didn't really feel much guilt about what he had done.  He
was more concerned with how it made him feel after.

"I won't...encourage you to drink anything overly fresh," LaCroix stated
with a slight sneer.  Then he smiled, thinking better of that statement,
and added, "Although I hope that doesn't apply to Natalie?"

"I know I don't have any say in what you choose to do with her," Nick
said, turning away.  "But I'd ask you not to force her to do anything
against her will, either."

"I was actually referring to encouraging you to indulge in *her*.  I
hope that's not--"

"As I said last night, encourage me if you want.  But give me the option
to refuse, and don't use Natalie to manipulate me into agreeing, or
criticise me if you don't."  He drank the rest of his glass, hoping this
wasn't about to turn into some argument.

LaCroix abruptly stood, leaving his glass on the counter.  "You may
finish it if you wish.  If not, then put it somewhere behind the bar."

Nick darted his hand out and caught his sire's arm as he stood to leave.
"Stay.  Please?"

Surprised by the request, LaCroix turned back and sat again.  "You
haven't tired of my company yet?"  He smiled.  "But then, you have
returned to me, haven't you?" he pondered, curious what response he
might get.

Nick's lips twitched up into a smile, although he didn't look directly
at the other man.  "Maybe I have."  He shook his head, the smile
widening but becoming more forced.  "I do, generally, enjoy your
company, LaCroix."  His eyes then darted around the Raven.

"I'm surprised you haven't commented on what I've done to the club."

Nick closed his eyes, stifling a groan.  At least now he didn't have to
somehow bring up the subject of the club.  LaCroix had done that for
him.  "You shouldn't have changed it."

"At least I finally got rid of those annoying mortals outside."

"At what cost?"

"Fun, of course.  From my perspective, at least."

Nick shook his head again.  "Change it back.  Before you're...arrested
or something."

LaCroix chuckled.  "By whom?  You?"

"I'm serious.  You need to tone it down so it appears safe, at least on
the surface.  I'm not merely talking about mortal law enforcement.  Some
of our kind--"

"*They* no longer seem to care."

"They probably don't want to be discovered--or worse--by the mortals.
Just because the Enforcers haven't made themselves known yet doesn't
mean they won't do so in the future...or that they won't silently deal
with things from behind the scenes."

"Toronto is too closely watched.  *If* they...punished me, everyone
would know.  And by everyone...I mean *everyone*."

Nick sighed before telling his sire outright, "The Raven has been lucky
that it hasn't been attacked--even while Janette was still here.  Don't
tempt the mortals, force them into finally acting...although I think
that the Enforcers are probably watching us as well.  But mortals can do
a lot of damage to us.  If they attacked the Raven...  And the more
dangerous the club seems, the more likely someone will act."

Pretending to consider the request, LaCroix eventually noted, "Well, I
*am* losing money..."

"Of course you are--you're essentially offering free drinks."  Nick
smiled a little, hoping this wouldn't get into a deeper argument.

LaCroix also smiled, and picked the bottle up off the counter and nodded
toward the empty glass.  "More?"

Nick nodded without hesitation, watching as the older man refilled his
glass.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (073/111)

That day Natalie had awoken half a dozen times.  She found it difficult
to sleep soundly without Nick right there, and that was after being
tired from staying up that morning to fiddle with her computer.  At
least she had finally figured out how to transfer her reports to the
computers at the morgue.  She was sure that would come in handy,
particularly once summer came back around and the sun was up nearly
two-thirds of the day rather than down nearly that much like it was now.

When she finally did head to bed, Natalie also found that when sleeping
alone--completely alone, without Nick at least somewhere in the
loft--she reverted to sleeping more, well, vampire-like.  Even if she
purposely tried not to do so, say, by putting her hands under her back,
or folding them on her stomach, one arm gripping her other...when she
woke, she again found her hands crossed instinctively over her heart.

What had kept waking her were dreams and nightmares.  Specifically those
that meshed with her new and apparently compulsory sleeping position.
Coffins and wooden stakes, sometimes both, kept her mind quite awake.

Finally, at nearly four that afternoon, she got up and dressed.  To
avoid pacing, waiting for Nick to return from the Raven, she started her
computer back up to work on another report.

He, however, didn't come right back.  Then, over an hour later, she got
a phone call--work again.  She reluctantly left, slightly worried, but
not sure whether she should call the Raven or not.  Eventually she
decided she would wait until he got to work and call there.

Nearly two and a half hours later, while she was examining some blood
samples under a microscope, she heard the doors open and, when she heard
no accompanying heartbeat, she smiled and looked up.  "Shouldn't you be
at the precinct?"

"Should."  Nick managed a smile.  "I can be a few minutes late.  I
wanted to drop by."  He moved closer and leaned up against the counter.
"You weren't worried, were you?"

She turned back to the microscope.  "Of course I was worried.  The sun
came up, oh, a bit over three hours ago."

He flinched.  "If it helps, I haven't actually been awake long."

"Hmm, noticed that.  You haven't changed.  Which means..."

"We had a rather long...chat."  He shook his head, some frustration
showing.  "And LaCroix didn't wake me up."

"Sounds like you got more sleep than me, at least."  Seeing his concern,
she explained, "First, I stayed up trying to get my computer to
communicate with the ones here."

"And?"

"Finally managed to get that working, at least."  Natalie went back to
her microscope to distract herself.  "Another thing...I learned that
it's a bit strange sleeping like, well, a vampire.  Didn't realise it
was such a strong compulsion."

He smiled at that.

"And on top of that, I kept having nightmares about....coffins and
stakes."

"Nat?" he asked, and pushed away from the counter and moved closer to
her, touching her arm gently.

"It's fine.  It'd be nice to dream about something other than my death,
though."  She closed her eyes as he pulled her into a gentle embrace.
"Or yours, for that matter."

Nick held her tighter at that.  "I'm sorry, I didn't realise--"

Natalie pushed against him at his apology.  "It's not your fault, Nick.
I was just a bit...startled by it, I guess.  Wasn't expecting it."  She
pulled out of his arms, although a hand lingered on her waist even after
she went back to her microscope.  After writing down a couple of
numbers, she looked back toward him, entirely focused on him.  "So...I
take it your talk went well?"

"Hopefully.  As well as it could.  I also talked to him about some other
things."

"Like?"

"The Raven.  He brought it up, actually."  Nick glanced up at the
clock--he should have been at the precinct five minutes ago.

"And, yeah, you better go before Cohen starts taking a tally like she
does with Schanke, even though he'd get a kick out of finding that out.
But change clothes first--both Cohen and Tracy will notice if you
don't."

He smiled at that.  Yes, Schanke would love to get on his case about him
being late.  And he hadn't said a thing to Tracy about where he'd be for
the day.  He gave Natalie a kiss on her cheek when she once again
returned to her microscope, then turned to leave.

"Oh, Nick?"

He turned back when he had reached the door, smiling, seeing Natalie
starting for her desk and a file.

"Definitely an accident," she told him, handing out a report.

His mood immediately dropped a couple of notches, then he nodded back.
Accident made the most sense and it was how Natalie had been leaning
that morning.

"Sorry.  But you can take that with you and use it for your excuse."

He smiled a bit less enthusiastically at that, then left.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Where's your partner?"

Tracy didn't look up at the sound of Cohen's voice.  She had no clue
where her partner was--well, her temporary partner.  It was only the
fourth night she had worked with him, but he had been on time the other
nights.  And here, tonight, he was already going on fifteen minutes
late.  Best she could think...  "He's probably running by the morgue or
something," she answered, not mentioning where else she thought he might
be--that club.

Cohen shook her head and handed a sheet of paper to Tracy.  "See if
Dispatch can locate him and have him meet you at the scene."

"What about--"

"Dr. Lambert called an hour ago; she ruled it an accident.  Unless you
two have reason to think otherwise?"

"No, we don't think otherwise."  Seeing Cohen waiting, eyebrows raised
for the rest of her answer, she stood up and added, "Not that I'm aware
of, anyway."

"Find out for sure from Knight."

Tracy grabbed her coat and went out to her car.  She hesitated in the
parking lot, half-expecting Nick's Caddy to pull into the lot as she
walked.  It didn't, so she used her radio to call Dispatch.

Ten minutes later, upon arriving at the crime scene, she had expected to
find Nick already there.  No luck; he was still nowhere in sight.
Natalie had arrived, but all that did was add to her
confusion--apparently he *had* been at the morgue around the time when
he should have come in.

Finally, after she had more or less questioned the first officers on the
scene, one of the witnesses, and learned Natalie's 'take' on what had
probably happened...her missing partner showed up.  She broke off from
the others and headed for him.  "Where the heck have you been?  Cohen
has been on my case wondering why I can't keep tabs on my own partner,"
she complained earnestly.

"Morgue," he automatically answered.

She shook her head, not willing to allow her ire to be dismissed so
easily.  "Sorry, but Natalie's already been here at least fifteen
minutes.  You weren't at the morgue...or if you were, then you must have
gone somewhere else, too."  When he didn't say anything, she told him,
"I really don't like it when Cohen gets onto *me* for something *you*
do.  It's not fair."

Nick averted his gaze at that, looking toward Natalie and the rest of
the crime scene.  He had already discovered Cohen's mood for himself.
Leaving the morgue, he had gone home, changed clothes, then driven to
the precinct, only to find Tracy already gone...and Cohen fuming.  He
had flown to the crime scene, leaving the file from Natalie on his desk.

"Nick?"

"What do we have?"

She sighed, but answered, "The guy was stabbed, probably with a knife.
Haven't found the weapon yet, but we're looking.  And you're still not
going to tell me why you were late, are you?"

He looked over at Tracy, then started toward the rest of those gathered.
"I'll...tell you later," he replied, although he wasn't quite sure if it
would be the truth.  He focused on the ground when he saw Natalie glance
his way with a smile.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Did you get Arlene her present yet?" Natalie asked later that night,
soon after Nick arrived home.

"Arlene who?" he asked, slipping out of his jacket and shoulder holster,
truly confused.

"Detective Arlene Michaels.  The gift exchange.  Guess that's a 'no'."

All he could do was attempt a smile and tell her, "I haven't even
thought about it."

"Too busy trying to think what to tell Tracy, huh?"

"I told her that I went by the Raven after the morgue to give LaCroix a
little warning that he needed to make the club a bit safer for mortals,
if he didn't want them to start turning on us and burn the place
down...or whatever.  Other than that, it was the truth."

"And Cohen?"

"The...same."  He headed over to the couch and sat.  "She seemed less
upset about my being late after I told her about going by the Raven.
Apparently, there have already been several complaints about the club."

"Complaints from whom?" she asked, quickly crossing the room to join
him, sitting next to him but slightly apart, sensing he was in one of
his moods.  "Did Tracy say anything?  Or do people end up missing after
going there?  Or was it more general complaints from those who find the
club a bit...darker than expected."

He winced.  "I didn't ask, and Cohen didn't provide any details, but I'm
sure it wasn't anything Tracy said.  And, no, I'm not asking LaCroix.  I
don't want to know what he and others have done since Janette--"  He
abruptly stopped and shook his head.  "Anyway, I think he'll tone things
down a bit; I think he had already realised that needed to be done."

"Did he say anything about me going over tomorrow night?"

He shook his head again.  "No, he didn't, except to mention that he
practically doesn't need to teach you anything, which..."

"Which isn't exactly a comforting thought," she finished, not much
liking LaCroix' implication that she was naturally 'in tune' with her
new instincts.  What would happen when she was put in a situation where
she simultaneously needed to maintain control, while circumstances
managed to trigger those instincts?  For now, all she could do was hope
Nick was there.  Forcing herself back to her original topic, she
admitted, "I might have to go by tomorrow night, regardless--the results
from the other tests I ran on the synthetic blood should be in by then."

"So we'll know if it's safe?" he asked, his mood nudging up slightly.

"Yeah, but, Nick...if you're thinking of trying it..."

"If LaCroix can't keep his promise, I may do more than merely sample
it."

As he started to stand, Natalie darted out and gently gripped his
arm--gently but securely enough to keep him in place, unless he used his
vampiric strength to break free.

"Natalie, please..."

"Please...what?"

He couldn't think why he had even wanted to stand.  He only knew that he
felt uncomfortable talking about blood of any kind right now.  He still
wasn't entirely sure what he wanted or what was better.  He somewhat
worried that taking the woman's blood and killing had broken his calm,
possibly for as long as he continued drinking human blood.  It was
slightly better now, but he still felt on edge and even antsy about his
decision.  He still felt that continuing to drink human blood was the
right thing to do.  At least for now.  He'd have to wait and see whether
or not LaCroix tried pushing him beyond his boundaries again.

Seeing him zone out, Natalie leaned up against him and wrapped her arm
around him, pulling him even closer toward her.  "Come on, Nick, just--"

"Sorry, Nat, but I'm not ready to talk about how I feel," he said and
tried to stand again, only for her to grip him even tighter.

"Just sit here with me."  Once she felt him relax, she asked, "So, your
case..."

"Something normal at last."

"Except...no Schanke."

He nodded slowly.  "And I have another four nights without him--he's not
due back until Tuesday."

"Any news where Tracy is going after that?"

"Nothing...official."

"But?"

"But...I don't want to speculate."

Natalie pulled back at his words to look up at him.  He was worried.
"But you've heard something.  What is it?"

"Briggs is transferring out at the end of the year.  Tracy'll be staying
at the 96th for more than just a few weeks."  He closed his eyes.  "I
think she was assigned to me for more than--I think it's some sort of
test."

"You think they're planning to move Schanke to days, and--"

"Give both of us new partners.  Flanagan's young and inexperienced.  He
only made detective about a year ago.  They definitely won't put Tracy
with him.  Besides that, they're both resistors and Schanke isn't.  I'm
sure--"

"Don't worry about it, Nick.  Whatever happens, I'm sure you'll manage
just fine."

"Maybe.  But I really don't want a new partner."

"Cohen would tell you, wouldn't she?"

Nick ran a hand through his hair as he answered, "I don't know.  Maybe
this week is some sort of trial run to help them make their decision.
Cohen would probably wait until all the decisions have been made or--"

"Tracy hasn't said anything, has she?"

He shook his head.  "No, not really," he said, even as he recalled their
conversation, where she had vaguely asked him if he'd accept a
promotion.  He nearly laughed at that thought.  He definitely wasn't
going to be promoted, not three months after the world had learned that
vampires were real, and barely a month since they had learned that he
was one of them.

"Nick?"

He shook his head again, smiling.  "You're right, it's probably nothing
to worry about."  He leaned back and over next to Natalie, still
smiling, closed his eyes, and whispered, "And if there is...there's
probably nothing I can do about it, anyway."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (074/111)

Nick silently cringed when Natalie set another travel mug on his desk
Saturday night.  "I'm not--"

"Don't worry, it's not one of my special mixtures," she assured him.

"Oh, too bad.  That was pretty good--with the chocolate powder, anyway,"
Tracy said as she looked at it, and asked, "What is it?"

She didn't answer Tracy, and instead leaned over Nick, whispering to
him, "The synthetic blood.  Finally got my results back tonight and
thought you might want to try it.  And no, I haven't yet.  Can't get
past the stench."

He reached for the mug now, surprised to find how light it was.  He took
the lid off, only to find it contained merely a couple of ounces of red,
slightly viscous liquid.  Curious, he sniffed it and immediately pulled
back.  Natalie was right, it didn't smell anything like blood.  Or even
mortal food.  It smelled...awful.

"Well?"

Nick put the lid back on and set it out of the way.  "Maybe later."

"So," she started, trying not to grin, "I made a special trip for--"

He grabbed her arm and pulled her down and whispered with a smile, "If
it makes me sick, I'd rather that happen at the end of my shift, not the
beginning."

"Hmm...  Can't argue that, although it shouldn't make you any sicker
than, well..."

"Any other non-blood substance does?  If so, that's not very
encouraging," he whispered back.

"But I know you'll try it.  At least it's the right colour...although
that's about the only thing in its favour."  Natalie smiled at him and
then straightened back up to find Tracy watching them, probably
wondering what they had been whispering about.

"Did you tell him yet?" Nick asked in a normal tone, now that they had
changed to a more public topic.

"Not yet; I'll go by on my lunch break."  She nearly turned to go, but
found Nick's hand suddenly entwined with hers.  She turned and found him
grinning at her.

"Let me know if the club seems any...different, and be careful."

Natalie smiled, bent, gave him a kiss on his cheek, and told him, "Don't
worry, I will.  Although not sure I need to."

He let go of Natalie's hand so she could leave, then his attention
locked back on the plastic mug on his desk.  It was tempting to try it
now, but...

"So, what's this?" Tracy asked once they were alone.  When she didn't
get an immediate answer, she easily reached forward and grabbed the mug
off the other desk.

Nick reached for it, but was too late.  He flinched when Tracy took the
lid off and sniffed it, turning her nose up at the strange liquid.

"It looks like blood.  It's that fake stuff, isn't it?"

He was surprised she couldn't tell for sure.  True, appearance-wise it
nearly passed as the real thing--it was a bit thinner, but the colour
was dead-on--but it sure didn't smell like blood, and it had a fairly
strong scent...strong enough for a mortal to smell, he'd think.

"Isn't it?"

"Can't you tell by how it smells?"

She took another whiff of it and shook her head.  "It doesn't smell like
anything to me.  Just...what it's supposed to be, I guess?"  Seeing his
look of incredulity, she asked, "What does it smell like to you?"

"Not like blood.  Metallic, chemical--"

"Isn't that what blood smells like?  Iron and metallic salts?"

He nearly refuted her answer before realising that it did, indeed,
probably smell like blood...or at least somewhat like what blood smelled
like in its simplest state.  "It kind of does, but there's more than--"

"What does my blood smell like?"

"Flowers," he immediately replied, barely thinking.  He glanced away
from her upon realising he had answered aloud.  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't
have--"

"It's fine," she told him a bit nervously, then put the lid back on the
mug and set it back on Nick's desk.  "Although, er, if it's kind of a
peachy floral scent, it's probably my shampoo."

He nearly smiled and shook his head.  "No, it's--"  He stopped before he
said what she smelled like more specifically, then finished vaguely,
"You don't smell like peaches."

"So would my blood taste like whatever it smells like?"

Nick closed his eyes.  He desperately wanted and needed a new topic of
conversation.  Now.

"And everyone smells different?"

"Something like that," he muttered and tried to think about work.
Instead, all he could think about was the synthetic blood in the mug.
And wishing it were normal, real blood.  He had a feeling the fake blood
wouldn't calm him if he drank it.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Have you tried it yet?" Natalie asked when she came back to the
precinct late that morning.  By the looks of it, Tracy had already left.

"No," Nick whispered, eyeing the travel mug for the first time in hours.
It hadn't tempted him even once all night.

"Tracy leave already?"

He nodded.  "Just a few minutes ago."

Natalie picked up the untouched mug off Nick's desk.  "Your turn.  I'll
even drive, if you want."

He groaned slightly and shook his head.  Retrieving his coat, he asked,
"What did LaCroix say?"

"Pretty much nothing.  What did you expect him to say?"

He shook his head again as he followed Natalie out of the precinct and
to the Caddy.  Once beside the car, he hesitated.  Today was one of
those days he really didn't want to drive.

"The only thing he said about it was that the Raven definitely won't be
selling any.  Not even as a special request," she said, pulling open the
passenger side door and getting in.

Nick waited a moment before reluctantly getting in and starting the
engine, but then he wasted no time in leaving.

"But I think we both kinda figured that.  Didn't you say something about
him writing 'not for sale' on the box or something?"

He smiled at that.  "Yeah.  Underlined and everything."

"So, did Tracy poke this?" she asked, holding the mug up.

Glancing over at it, his smile vanished.  "Yeah.  Opened it up and
smelled it, so we ended up getting into a rather short and vague
conversation about what both it and normal blood smells like.  She asked
and...I was distracted by that, and I slipped up and said her blood
smells like flowers."

Natalie lightly smiled and poked him, "Which, by the way, do I still
smell the same?  Taste the same?"

"No," Nick whispered after a moment.  "Not quite.  Stronger, sweeter."
He paused, his smile returning for a second before he added, "The lilac
scent seems to be missing."

"Is that because of the blood I--"

"No.  No, it...it wasn't always there to begin with."

She watched him think, then asked, "Tracy didn't ask about anyone else,
did she?  How they smell or taste?  Me or you or--"

"She vaguely asked if everyone had their own...flavour, so to speak."
He quickly looked over at her, "Not in those words, although I'm sure
she thought about it.  I didn't really answer."

Once back at the loft, Natalie set the mug on the kitchen table and Nick
gingerly sat in a chair in front of it.  She watched as he slowly
removed the lid.  Then, after swirling the liquid slowly in its
container for a moment, he held his breath and took a tentative sip.

Nick cringed and hurriedly set the cup back on the table.  It didn't
taste all that great--far from it--but it at least didn't make him
nauseous.  That surprised him slightly.  Usually smell and taste
matched, but with this it didn't.  Not quite.  Animal blood, however,
still tasted better.

"So, how is it?"

"Better than it smells, but that's not saying much," he whispered, then
spied the bottle of human blood in Natalie's hands and reached out for
it.  She gave it to him, and he took it, uncorking it.  After a moment
of hesitation, he poured a small amount into the cup, along with what
remained of the fake blood.  Now it was about half synthetic and half
real, by his guess.

Natalie waited, curious, stepping behind Nick so that she could see down
into the cup.  It had mixed seamlessly.

He took a sip of this mixture, then after a pause, downed the rest of
what remained.  This time he didn't cringe, and he silently put the mug
back on the table, empty.

"Well, you didn't make a face that time.  I take it that means--"

"It's better like this--mixed.  It kind of...waters the blood down a
bit, but it at least tastes like blood."  He eyed the bottle for a
moment, then stood and went to a cabinet to get a glass.

She watched him, slightly concerned as he filled the glass full, set it
down on the table next to her, then drank straight out of the bottle.

Lowering it, he closed his eyes.  Even compared to the mixed human and
synthetic blood, the human blood seemed to calm him, whereas the mixture
hadn't, or not to the same degree.

"Nick, is something wrong?"

"No, just...thinking again," he answered.

"About?"

"Whether or not that," he started, nodding to the mug on the table, "is
nutritious...even if it is, I don't think it's...satisfying," he
tentatively said.  "Or maybe I'm just too distracted from being at the
precinct almost the entire night."

"And worrying, by any chance?"

He took another swig from the bottle, then nodded.  "Has LaCroix changed
the Raven back any?"

"Well, it seemed to be a bit busier."

"More mortals than the last time you went?"

Natalie had to think a moment, but then she nodded, "Actually, I think
there were.  And one of the servers was mortal--that's new."

"Miklos was mortal."

"He was?" she asked, a bit surprised.  With how he had glared at her
that one time when she went behind the bar--and reluctantly got her
another bottle of blood at that--she figured for sure he had to be a
vampire.  Pushing that thought away, she turned her thoughts back to the
club.  "Music was a bit louder, and the lights a bit brighter, too.  So
maybe some subtle changes.  Still felt like those inside were
disappointed I wasn't a mortal."

"Probably disappointed knowing you're--"  He halted his reply and looked
away.

"Knowing I'm what?" she asked initially a bit angry, then she asked
again, more teasingly as she walked up to him, "Knowing I'm what, Nick?"

"Mine," he whispered and tensed, his eyes flashing gold-ish for a moment
before he forced them shut.  Then he felt arms snake around his waist,
pulling him toward her.  Opening his eyes, he found her directly in
front of him.  "Natalie..."

"Hmm, I don't mind your little streak of...possessiveness," she said and
kissed him lightly on his lips.

He pulled his head back, but she continued to hold him against her.  He
still had one more thing he was quite curious about.  "Is LaCroix
setting any limits on who goes in?"

"Ah, no.  And those signs are still there.  Granted, I think those
should probably stay."  Then, remembering something, she abruptly
released him and went over to her jacket and pulled out a small flyer.
"I'm not sure if this is good or bad..."  She returned and held the
piece of paper out to him, and he immediately snatched it from her
hands.  "Could be both."

Nick shook his head at the flyer, although he smiled slightly.  A
stripping contest of some sort, by the looks of it.  The winner would
get one of the serving jobs.

"Probably good for business."  She pointed down at the bottom.  "The
club did seem a bit understaffed, but..."

"Almost everyone quit when Janette left," he told her, still smiling
slightly.  "And Janette sometimes used similar methods for choosing
waitresses, although--"

"Not quite so explicit?" she asked, and watched Nick shake his head and
smile again.  "I guess we should avoid the club Tuesday night," she
said, taking the flyer back.  "Or at least keep Schanke away until
that's over.  That shouldn't be too hard.  Has he even been in the Raven
lately?"

Nick shook his head again and turned away.  He had to admit he looked
forward to Schanke being back...even if his partner babbled all night
about how awful his vacation was.  He truly missed his partner...not
that he would ever tell him that, of course.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (075/111)

After spending two whole minutes ringing the loft's buzzer, Schanke gave
up and punched in Nick's alarm code, muttering about his partner's phone
being off the hook and that he wasn't even answering the buzzer, while
he got in the elevator and rode up.  Not that he blamed his partner.
After all, it was only eleven in the morning, still closer to dawn than
dusk, and both Nick and Natalie would probably be sound asleep.

As the elevator hit the top, Schanke abruptly froze, wondering if
LaCroix was still staying there.  The last time he had come over during
the day, he'd been rudely examined as if he was being appraised as a
potential meal.  Shaking off his concern as much as he could, he quietly
pulled open the elevator door, then held it while it slid shut.

Of course neither Nick nor Natalie was awake, and the room was dim and
empty.  Schanke started away from the door, only to find his coat had
been caught by the door.  He turned back to pull it out, then turned
again and nearly had a heart attack.  Nick stood next to him, wearing
that fancy robe of his.  "Geez, Knight!" he said in a harsh whisper.
"Just because you can appear out of thin air like that doesn't mean you
should!"  He turned again, to move away from his partner, only to find
Natalie on his other side, wearing what appeared to be a black satin
pyjama shirt and nothing else, at which he backed up and slammed into
the elevator door, holding his chest.

"What are you doing here, Schanke?" Nick calmly asked.

He hesitated, still trying to recover from being cornered at the door.
He pushed between the two and started absently toward the kitchen.
Turning, he found that they had followed him, although he suspected they
had flown up to him; they were once again simply standing there,
completely still.  Again, he backed up a few steps.  "Technically, I'm
here to pick you two up," he started, then glanced between the two a bit
nervously, "But right this moment, I feel more like some poor rat being
cornered by a couple of cats."

"Pick us up for what?" Natalie asked.  "And by 'us' do you mean me or--"

"Both of you," Schanke replied, again moving away, but this time keeping
his eyes on them.  "And what'd I miss?  I was gone a tad over a week
and..." he waved his hands at Natalie.

"And...what?" Nick asked, walking up behind Natalie and wrapping his
arms around her waist, his gaze locked on his partner.

"And Natalie's gone all..." Schanke nodded toward her, but now that the
two weren't stalking him anymore, he didn't know how to explain.
Everything about them suddenly felt more normal.  "Never mind.  Why
weren't you two answering the phone, anyway?  Cohen tried calling you
before she called me.  Said you picked up then put her on hold or
something..."  Schanke stared at the two for a moment before making the
connection.  "Wait, you two weren't--?"  He noticed bite marks on first
Nick's neck then Natalie's.  "Oh, er, never mind on that, too, I guess."
He walked away and to the fridge, which he opened, only to find nothing
but a shelf full of green glass bottles.  "And of course the fridge is
back to being food-free, too.  Just my luck."

"Sorry, Schanke," Natalie said.

Schanke let the fridge shut, stared wistfully at it a moment, then
turned silently back to his two reluctant hosts.

"You can get something on the way.  We don't mind."

"And our case is where exactly?" Nick asked, disengaging from Natalie
and walking toward his partner.

"Er, better to hold off on that.  You two need to get dressed ASAP.
From what Cohen said, this one is...strange, even by our standards."

Nick glanced to Natalie, then flew up to the bedroom.  Natalie hesitated
a few seconds and smiled at Schanke before she did the same.

As the two vanished, Schanke stood there waiting, staring at nothing for
what felt like minutes before he shook the sight out of his mind.  Yeah,
vampires weren't new, but Nick had always been rather discrete about his
disappearing and appearing...flying, whatever.  He typically wasn't so
obvious about it.  For some reason seeing it--not that he could really
see his partner move, it was more just a blur--bothered him.  And then
Natalie...

Schanke paced for a nearly a minute, waiting.  He couldn't think of
anything he could do to help them get ready, other than be fairly sure
that they probably wanted something for breakfast.  Or lunch.  Or midday
snack.  Something...

Wanting to be helpful, Schanke went to a cupboard and grabbed two mugs,
placed them on the kitchen table, then reluctantly went back to the
refrigerator.  He pulled the door open, grabbed the one not-quite-full
bottle and, holding it out in front of him, examining it far more
closely than he had ever examined any of his partner's 'wine' bottles,
he took it back over to the table.  He pulled the loose cork out,
sniffed it somewhat curiously, then cringed while he filled both mugs.
"I hope you two want a snack or something before you go," he called up,
put the bottle down on the table almost forcefully, then shoved the cork
back in rather gingerly.  He turned and...  "Damn it, Knight!  Will you
stop that?!"

Nick tried not to smile at his partner's discomfort.  "I thought we were
in a hurry."  He buttoned the cuffs on his shirt, then eyed the mugs of
blood on the table before picking one up and taking a drink from it.

"Cohen's the one who wants us in a hurry.  Not sure why--I think Briggs
and Flanagan are already there.  Or will be before we get there."
Schanke eyed the cup.  "That okay?  You don't zap it in the microwave to
make it nice 'n hot, human body temp or anything, do you?"

Nick cringed at the thought of microwaving the blood.  Warm, human body
temp blood would do nothing but ignite his instincts...and make him want
more.  He wasn't about to tell his partner that, though.  Nor would he
explain that there were better ways to heat blood if he did actually
want it warmer.

"Guess not."  Schanke glanced around Nick to the chair, half-expecting
Nick's trenchcoat and hat to be there, but they weren't.  "Where's your
daylight gear?"  Concerned, he asked, "And does Nat even have--" only to
stop mid-question, seeing Natalie walking down the stairs with what
appeared to be a couple of different coats draped over one arm and other
items in her hands.

Natalie silently laid the items over the back of a chair, the cloak
underneath Nick's coat.  "So why are you and Nick being called out?
Something to do with vampires?"

"Well..." Schanke started, but hesitated.  "It's a really strange
situation from what little I've heard.  And, er, probably not the
easiest thing for either of you, frankly."

"What do you mean?"

"For one thing, it's, er, in a church."

Nick glanced over to Natalie at that.  As expected, she had gone tense.

"And, Nat, Cohen told me to warn you the body was burned."

"I'll be fine," she whispered, but averted her gaze, a bit worried.  She
hadn't much liked burns victims when she had been mortal.  Now, however,
burns held a whole new meaning.  She hadn't dealt with any major burns
in autopsies since she'd been brought across, however, and had no idea
how much worse the smell would be.  That could be an issue, and she
added, "Hopefully."

Nick picked up the other mug and handed it to Natalie, who immediately
accepted it and drained it without another word.  Then he grabbed his
coat and put it on, drank the remainder of his own mug, then handed out
the suede lined cloak, trading it with the now empty mug.  "Come on, we
can ask more questions on the way," he said and took the two mugs to the
sink.

"Can I still get that souvlaki?"

Nick smiled at that and put his hat on.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Nick stayed as close to Natalie as he could while they made their way
into the shade near the church, Schanke walking in front of them.  Nick
turned his head slightly, seeing the back of an RCMP jacket.  What had
happened that had warranted their presence?  This wasn't just any case.
If it was, he and Schanke wouldn't have been called in the middle of the
day, either.

Schanke flashed his badge to the RCMP officer at the door, gaining them
entry.  Nick and Natalie followed hesitantly behind him.  Nick wasn't
overly fond of the powerful fearful sensation some churches instilled in
him--this one included--and Natalie had yet to be in one since she had
become a vampire.

Once inside, Natalie pulled away from Nick and out of the cloak, which
she then handed to him.  Her eyes and hand lingered on the hand he had
held on her back as they walked in--he had burned it in the sunlight.
She didn't say anything.  Instead she simply gave him a smile before
turning and walking past someone, only to come to a complete halt upon
seeing a large cross on the wall ahead.  She felt her eyes change and
she shut her eyes, hoping Nick would turn her away.  After a moment he
did, and she relaxed.

"Nat, it's okay now," he whispered to her once they entered the actual
main part of the church.  "Just look around and make sure you note
where...where things are."  There, in front of the altar, was the actual
crime scene, and Briggs and Flanagan were walking toward them from
there.

"Briggs and I are off the case," Flanagan said to Nick and Schanke when
they passed one another in the middle aisle.  "Not sure about you two,
but we figure--"

"RCMP and FBI are taking over," Briggs finished, glancing at Nick, then
he started off without his partner.

"Sorry, he's blaming you again," Flanagan replied.  "But this certainly
isn't your fault; you two might not want to get too attached to the case
yourselves.  Not that you'd really want to--it definitely isn't
pretty--but RCMP is here.  Haven't seen any FBI yet, but according to
him," Flanagan nodded to the man in the RCMP jacket by the entrance, "it
sounds like this could be part of some serial, with most of the previous
scenes down in the States."

Nick turned toward Natalie after the other detective left.  She had
tensed and he had a general idea why--even from where they currently
stood, he could tell the victim had indeed been burned.  In addition to
the burnt flesh, he could also smell burnt wood and knew she would also
smell it.  "Nat--"

"I think I'll be okay.  The smell doesn't seem that much worse," she
said and started forward, pulling out and donning a pair of gloves as
she approached the area where the body was, while others already had
started to catalogue and photograph the scene.  Once the photographer
moved out of the way, however, she again froze upon seeing exactly how
the victim had been found.  There on the carpet in front of the altar,
was a person-sized wooden cross made of thin, wide boards.  The victim
had been tied at his ankles and wrists to the boards.  A wooden stake
had been plunged through the body's burnt torso.

"Natalie, I can--"

"It's fine, Nick," she said, glancing up and over at his concerned
features.  She turned back to the victim.  It was more the combination
of execution methods that bothered her than any one thing, although...
"Assuming I don't actually touch the...makeshift cross, it won't burn
me, right?"

"It won't burn you unless you touch it," Nick assured her with a quick
nod.

"Then I'll be all right," she said through gritted teeth.  She pulled
away from him and approached the body itself, appearing to all around
her as if she were any other normal, very mortal, medical examiner.

Schanke watched, a bit stunned, his eyes more on Natalie than the
victim.  "That Natalie...  Always said she was a gutsy lady.  I take it
her court appearance went okay?"

Nick managed a smile at that.  "Yeah--better than okay."

Schanke pulled the thick cloak from Nick's grasp, and he too eyed where
Nick's hand had burned, but didn't say anything about the already
healing injury.  "Nice.  You get this for Natalie?" he said, holding the
heavy cloak up and shaking it slightly.  "Seems to work better than that
coat of yours."

"It was a present from Janette," he whispered, and his eyes darted back
toward Natalie, who had knelt down next to the cross and body.  "Leather
is the only really effective fabric for shielding us from the sun."

"She still doing okay with everything, then?  Or she getting comments
like you and doing the whole Space-Cadet thing now?  And, by the way, is
that a vampire thing, or is that just a 'Nick' thing?" he asked,
teasingly.

Nick smiled slightly.  "Very funny, Skank.  And I don't think everyone
at the precinct even believes or realises she's a vampire yet."

"Yeah, but--"

"Can we talk about this later, Schanke?  For now, I just--over there,"
Nick interrupted, nodding toward a minister and a woman talking to a
uniform.  "Let's at least assume we're keeping the case until we hear
otherwise."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (076/111)

Ten minutes later, Natalie glanced up to see a woman standing over her
on the other side of the body.

"You must be Dr. Natalie Lambert, correct?" asked the woman in her
forties, her straight blonde hair pulled back into a French twist.

"Yes," Natalie replied and stood, thankful for the excuse to move away,
or at least look away from the body.

"Special Agent Cassandra Gale," the woman said and held out her hand.

Natalie pulled off her gloves and shook the woman's hand, asking, "FBI?"

"What tipped you off?" said a smiling man in a suit coming up behind
Agent Gale.  He flashed his identification, then held out his hand.
"Zachary Reilly."

Natalie shook the man's hand, noticing that, despite his smile, he
seemed stiff.  Did he know she was a vampire or was he unsettled by the
way the victim had died?  He was purposely avoiding looking down,
exactly like she herself was.  "Something wrong, Agent Reilly?"

"No, he just has a problem with burn victims," Agent Gale answered.

"That's okay, I can understand that," Natalie told them, taking an
involuntary glance down at the body, then she cringed back slightly.
She took a deep, calming breath, then stepped back and walked around the
body to join the two agents.  She was surprised that neither of them had
asked her for her assessment.  She frowned slightly, then asked them,
"No questions for me yet because you know what I'll find, or no
questions because you're bringing in your own ME?"  She paused, but they
didn't answer.  "Come on, which is it?"

"The first," Agent Reilly replied, his smile faltering slightly.  "It's
the first in the series for this location; it's always the same."

"And, Dr. Lambert, you should know that we believe the victim is someone
you know," Agent Gale gently said.

"What?" she asked, surprised by this bit of information.  Again she
turned her attention to the body, trying to place something, anything,
but she couldn't.  The body was too far gone, the face too burnt.

"Your victim assuredly worked with, or was in close proximity, to either
you or one of the detectives initially involved when vampires were
revealed three months ago," Agent Reilly answered.  "The only way any of
the other victims were identified was through dental records."

"Nat?"

She started slightly, lost in her thoughts.  Nick and Schanke had come
over to join them, and both were looking at her rather concernedly.
"Ah, good, I was wondering when you two would come over.  These are
Agents--"

"Cassandra Gale and Zachary Reilly," Agent Gale said, introducing
herself and her partner, taking Nick's hand first, not letting go
immediately, "And of course we've heard a fair bit about you, Detective
Knight."  Then she turned to Schanke, "And you must be Detective--"

"Don Schanke," Schanke finished for her and shook her hand.  "So why
bother to introduce ourselves?  Aren't we saying adios, like Briggs and
Flanagan?  We all know you feds like to run the show."

Agent Gale shared a glance with her partner, recognising the names.

"Weren't they also part of the original...team?" Reilly asked, confused.

"Come on, I know it's coming," Schanke started, waiting for the two
agents to tell them they were off the case, but they weren't talking.
"We're off this, too, aren't we?  Couldn't you have told Cohen that
before she had me pick up Nicky here," Schanke grabbed his partner
around the shoulders, pulling him over and patting him on the back, "in
the middle of the day, no less?"

Nick turned to glare at Schanke at the action and the absurd nickname,
but with the other two there, he wasn't about to say anything.  Nor did
he pull away.

"We aren't kicking you off the case, Detective Schanke," Agent Gale
said.  "In fact, we've prevented a couple of this killer's earlier
targets from becoming fatalities by working jointly with local police."

"Targets?" Schanke asked, letting go of his partner and turning toward
Natalie, as if she might have been given more information on the earlier
cases.

"Multiple victims per location," Nick said, taking a guess--otherwise
they wouldn't have actually come to Toronto.  If it was only one, they'd
have better luck sitting in some room, trying to find a pattern.  "How
many?  Three?  Four?"

"Three.  The first is always human, found in a church, precisely like
you see here," Agent Gale said, nodding toward the burnt body behind
them.  "Even right down to the remains usually being discovered in the
morning."

"The second and third victims vary, but at least one is a vampire.
Either the designated contact, a local club or bar owner, or someone who
has been accused or suspected of killing," Agent Reilly further
explained.  "Or at least that's who they seem to target."

Nick couldn't help but turn slightly away at that.  That meant Janette,
LaCroix, and himself.  Possibly even Natalie--if whoever was doing this
knew she had been brought across.  "And the third, the last?"

"Usually someone else involved.  At first it was a detective, the
medical examiner, or the liaison.  But lately they've been going for
easier targets--simply someone associated with those initially
involved."

"So none of us are in danger?" Schanke asked, glancing at Nick and
Natalie for a moment before turning back to the two FBI agents.  He,
too, had initially become rather concerned, but it sounded like they
weren't...  "Or are we?"

Reilly glanced at his partner again before shaking his head, "We can't
really say at this point, but it's probably better to assume that all
those who were initially involved in revealing vampires are still their
most likely targets--their ideal targets."

"We already have a list, although we'll need your help in expanding it,"
Agent Gale added, looking first to Schanke and then to Nick, at which
she smiled.  "That also includes your people."

"How many times have they done this?" Nick asked, ignoring her hint.
"And why hasn't it been all over the news?"

"Toronto is the sixth city they've targeted, and each one is slightly
different.  The first two were close enough to other events that they
were basically overlooked.  The next three weren't entirely successful,
and one broke their pattern of one victim at a time...slightly."

"Not entirely successful?" Natalie asked.  "Do you mean--"

"There have been some survivors.  Of the six chosen as the second and
third targets of the last three groups, only two have died.  The other
four all survived, although two are in the hospital."

"And the other two?" Natalie again asked.

"Vampires, and unwilling to speak to us, as you might expect," Agent
Gale continued, her eyes solely on Nick.  "If nothing else, I'm hoping
Toronto will be different in that regard."

"What's their motive?" Nick asked.  He looked first to Natalie, then
toward the body lying near them, the victim's arms spread wide so that
even the body itself made a cross.  "Why kill a mortal in the same
manner as you would a vampire?"

"And with such extreme overkill, too," Natalie added.  When Nick snapped
his attention to her, she stated, "Whoever he was, he was killed--how,
precisely, I won't know until later--brought here, tied to those boards
with ropes soaked in holy water, staked, decapitated, and then burned.
In that order, I think.  And before you ask, I know the body looks
intact, but just trust me, it's not."

Agent Reilly raised his eyebrows at the description.  "And you got that
in, what--fifteen, twenty minutes?"

"Less, actually.  And I'm sure I'll find more, later.  Don't know about
anyone else, but crucifixes, holy water, and fire...  Makes me think
Inquisition."

"And that's another reason we're trying to keep a lid on this," Agent
Gale said.  "While unfortunate, we know the public will assume the
victim was believed to be a vampire, so they won't necessarily view it
as a bad thing, but--"

"They'll think this was nothing more than a mistake.  Maybe even wonder
if the attempt was warranted," Nick finished, then closed his eyes.  "No
one saw anything, I assume?"

Agent Gale nodded.  "Same as the others, nothing.  No witnesses.  We
really would like to talk to you two back at your station, the 96th, I
believe?"

"That could be a problem," Nick replied, then turned toward Schanke, who
appeared rather helpless.  What could they say?  He did want to get out
of the church, but he didn't want to leave Natalie there, either.

"I already talked to your Captain on our way from the airport.  She
mentioned something about your ban not being in effect for today.  They
actually banned you during the day?  Why?" Agent Gale asked.

"No idea," Nick muttered, then turned to Natalie and led her a short
distance away from the agents.

"Nick--" both Schanke and Natalie started.

He glanced back at his partner for a moment before quietly telling
Natalie, "I don't think they know you're--"

"That's okay.  I'm doing fine.  Just make sure you two don't run off
with my new cloak."  Seeing him about to protest, she repeated, "Don't
worry.  No one is going to leave me here, and all the forensics techs
are, well, zap-able if they try.  So, really, it's not a problem.  And,
yes, I'll call you when I get back to the morgue," she finished, knowing
he would worry if she didn't.  When Nick grinned, she smiled and gave
him a kiss on his cheek before moving back to her work.

Nick stood there slightly stunned for a few seconds before he turned,
again hearing his partner call his name.  He pulled the cloak from
Schanke's arm--where it had been since his partner had prodded it--and
laid it over one of the pews a few rows back.

"Knight, we leaving now?"

"Yes," Nick said, flipping his hat back on before glancing toward the
two FBI agents.  "I'm sure they can find their way," he muttered, then
started back out toward his partner's car, waiting at the last bit of
shade until Schanke had caught up.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Schanke had continually glared at him while he drove, complaining that
his stomach was growling, until they finally stopped and got him his
long-overdue souvlaki.  Nick had insisted he eat the pungent meal in the
parking lot before getting back in the car, which meant they had arrived
back at the precinct somewhat later than expected.

Arriving at the precinct, Nick pulled off his hat and trenchcoat the
first moment he could without burning, then dropped the items off
haphazardly at his desk.

He noticed, to his relief, that he didn't hear any quiet accusations or
derogatory whispers.  The most obvious response were the stares.  What
few questions wondered why he was there at the station--which, frankly,
were expected, since the sun was still up.  Any vampire spotted in the
middle of the day was a bit unusual and chat-worthy.

Cohen stopped him and Schanke in the hall, telling them, "I want you two
to cooperate with them as much as possible.  From what I hear, it could
save lives."  She nearly left, then told them, "And see if you can help
them catch whoever is doing this, even if they take the credit.  I don't
know if you've heard, but so far they've killed a dozen people and left
two in the hospital--and most were cops or those who worked with cops."

Nick nodded once Cohen left, then followed Schanke into the same
conference room that Schmidt had used during his stay.  The two FBI
agents were unsurprisingly already there, waiting for them.  Almost
immediately they were both handed a sheet of paper.

"This is our list of possible targets here in Toronto," Agent Reilly
stated.  "Or their primary targets, at least."

Nick silently read the two lists, both fairly short.  His name was the
only one on both lists--they apparently did not know that Natalie was a
vampire.  One list had those initially involved--the six detectives,
Natalie, Cohen, and Schmidt.  The list of vampires included, as
expected, Janette, LaCroix, and himself, but also Byron Morrell.

"Has everyone been notified?" Schanke asked.  "Or just us?"

"So far only you two and Captain Cohen.  William Schmidt was contacted
an hour ago.  And while she hasn't been explicitly told, I'm sure your
medical examiner, Dr. Lambert, is aware by now that she's on this list.
I believe the two detectives you mentioned earlier, Briggs and Flanagan,
are being notified as we speak.  The two other detectives will be
notified tonight."

"But none of the vampires, I assume," Nick surmised.  "Let me guess--you
thought I could handle that, right?"

"We thought you would have better luck with it, yes," Agent Gale
admitted.

"I'm not sure Janette should be considered one of the top targets.  She
left town a few weeks ago.  She's no longer in Toronto."

"Where Janette DuCharme is right now does not matter; she is still a
target," Agent Gale told him.  "We already know where she now lives and
works, a club in Montreal called Les Jeunes."

Nick was torn between trying not to smile at the name of the club--it
translated to youth, young people...which, in an amusing way, was
fitting--and worry for Janette.  It was also the same club that had been
torched and nearly destroyed.  He didn't even know if the club had
reopened yet, but assumed it had.  Janette must have made it her new pet
project.

"We would suggest you ask her to return to Toronto.  Just for a few
days," Agent Reilly suggested.  "She's probably safer here."

"When?  I'm sure you've already put together a timeline for--"

"Tomorrow or the day after, at the earliest.  If they hold to the
pattern, there should be 36 to 72 hours between each attempt," said
Agent Gale.  "And we would like to come with you tonight when you--"

"I'll call," Nick replied, cutting the agent off.

"We really would like to see the Raven, if possible.  An attack on the
club itself is another possibility, and the recent publicity about the
Raven would be a big boost for them.  They did that in the last
city--and weren't even noticed--and I'm sure you recognise that, since
the club is a gathering place for both vampires and non-vampires, it
could be a highly tempting target in and of itself?" Agent Gale
continued and smiled when she didn't get a retort.

"You asked earlier about motive," Reilly interrupted.  "We think they
are targeting those who are...mediators, you might say.  In other words,
those who have helped in some way to smooth over any issues between
vampires and humans."

"Then, what--Knight here is probably who they want?" Schanke asked,
finally speaking up.  "After all, if not for him, I'd bet things might
have gone south in the Raven."

"He is undoubtedly seen as the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing, as
far as many people are concerned," Agent Gale stated.  "And then
continuing his job after he was exposed only added fuel to the fire.
Yes, your partner would very possibly be their ideal target...and quite
a prize if they manage to get him.  And because of all the international
focus on Toronto, I rather expect them to go after two vampires this
time."

She paused again before finally turning to Nick and asking point-blank,
"Do you live alone, Detective?"

Nick hesitated, but understood why she was asking and answered
truthfully, "No."

The two agents glanced at one another for a moment, eyebrows raised,
then Agent Gale asked, "May we ask who you live with?"

Knowing they could easily find out by simply calling his home phone, he
answered, "Natalie."  After a pause, he rephrased, "Dr. Lambert."

Agent Gale nearly smiled at that, but mentioned, "For her own safety,
she may want to stay elsewhere, at least for a few days.  Same for you,
Detective Schanke."

"What about our families?" Schanke asked.  "I've got a wife and
daughter, and I know--"

"These guys are sticking to law enforcement, those associated with them,
and visible, easy to access, vampires.  Close associates only," Agent
Reilly stated.  "Your family shouldn't be in any real danger, but it
might be a good idea if they stay somewhere else for a few days, too, if
it's not an inconvenience."

Nick stared at the agents for a moment, then asked them, "And what's
happened to those you send into hiding?"

"So far they've all lived," Agent Gale said.

"But others were targeted instead?"

"Unfortunately, yes.  But, then, they have ample options as far as who
to target."

Nick glanced at his partner, who was getting rather nervous.  Schanke
had to have realised by now they thought Natalie was mortal; they didn't
know that was no longer true.  Looking to the agents, the corner of his
mouth twitched upwards slightly.

"Hell no, Knight, I know what you're--" Schanke jumped in, realising
instantly what his partner was about to propose.

"What do you think they'd do if I deliberately made myself more
accessible to them to draw them in?" he asked, cutting off his partner's
question.

"Kill you, obviously, if they can.  They've had plenty of practice at
it, and a vampire and a human sympathiser together would probably be an
even more irresistible target than separately, if that's what you're
thinking."

"And how, exactly, do they kill their victims?"

"They drug them first," Reilly started.  "Then kill them.  What they
use, though, it's generally fatal to humans at the doses they
administer.  It's only enough to weaken vampires long enough for the
rest of their attack, but it would kill Dr. Lambert or--if she's
lucky--leave her in a coma."

Nonplussed, Nick continued, "How do they get their information on their
victims?  How do they decide where and when to make their move?"

"What do you mean?" Reilly asked, a bit surprised by the question.

"Exactly that.  Do they pick someone randomly, or--"

"We think they somehow watch, observe their daily routines, prior to
actually going after them."

"Then..." Nick closed his eyes, thinking.  To be honest, if they prodded
his co-workers, they'd find out about Natalie anyway.  But that also
meant their suspects could find out as well, especially if they were
watching or researching them in any way.  "Then you should add Dr.
Lambert to your list of vampires."  He looked up to see the reaction of
the two agents--Gale seemed surprised but not overly so, while Reilly
appeared downright shocked.  "And I don't know if it matters, but for a
little over the last week, while Schanke was on vacation, I've had a
temporary partner."

Agent Reilly grabbed a pen and wrote Natalie's name under Byron's with
some hesitation, then asked, "And his name?  The temporary partner?"

"Her name is Tracy Vetter.  And I believe she'll still be working here
at the 96th for at least the next few weeks."

Reilly added this name to the other list, then stood and leaned forward
to grab a file, which he passed to his partner.

Agent Gale glanced at the file for a moment, then held it out to Nick.
"Reports from the previous cities.  It should answer most of your
questions."

Nick took the file and glanced at the folder, which he then handed to
Schanke.  He wasn't going to let these agents single him out, even if it
was clearly his opinion they wanted.

"While I'm officially in charge of this," Agent Gale started, sternly,
then softened somewhat, "We would appreciate any insights or thoughts
you might have.  And I do hope we can cooperate on this."

"We'll see," Nick said noncommittally.  He glanced at his partner, then
the two agents excused themselves.

The moment the door shut, Schanke nearly yelled, outraged at his
partner, "Are you *insane*?"

"I wasn't volunteering, Skank; I was only curious.  But I'll admit that
it's not out of the question."

Schanke took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing, "You do
know I was kinda hoping that maybe I could crash at your place, right?
I mean, if--"

He smiled and nodded.  "Of course you can.  Just remember--"

"I know, I know.  Bring my own food."

Nick took the file back and whispered to his partner, "Better call Myra
and tell her not to unpack."

Schanke's mood fell at that.  "Too late.  We already did."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (077/111)

Shortly after sunset, Natalie dropped a report onto Nick's desk.
"Where's Skank?"

"Went home to pack."

"Pack?"

"He's...staying with us for a few days.  He should be back soon," he
said, grinning, then his eyes darted to the file.  "Autopsy report?"

"Yep."

"Gale and Reilly see it yet?"

"Nope--they never came by," Natalie answered somewhat sternly.  She
leaned over his shoulder and added, "And I got an ID for you."

He turned, but heard Natalie's name called before he could ask who the
victim was, or if she had found anything interesting.

"Dr. Lambert, I take it you have your report?" Agent Gale asked,
approaching the desk.

She picked the file up off Nick's desk.  "You never said anything about
a vampire being involved in this."

Nick stiffened; so did the agent.  "What do you mean?"

"The victim was forcibly exsanguinated."

"That doesn't automatically mean vampire," the agent said.  "And I
doubt--"

"But if a vampire was involved, it would explain a lot.  For example,
how they could get so close to their victims," Nick mused, then told
Natalie, "In San Francisco a club owner, a vampire, was staked.  While
the club was open, no less.  And supposedly they got away."

"But we haven't found anything conclusive indicating--"

"The victim was clearly drained by a vampire," Natalie said emphatically
and held out the report.  "I found where he was bitten.  I'll admit it
wasn't easy to spot, but it's definitive proof, and I documented it as
such in my report."

Agent Gale opened the folder and scanned the report, reading all the
relevant findings to herself.  "Interesting.  None of the other ME's
managed to find an actual bite.  They assumed the bodies had been
drained artificially to make it look like a vampire."  She paused, then
turned back to Nick, "And this definitely changes our profile, too.  Do
you have any idea why a vampire would do something like this?"

"For the same reasons a mortal might--they don't want us to get along,"
he said.  "Although I admit it's perhaps a bit unexpected."  Turning to
Natalie, he asked, "You mentioned you had an ID?"

She nodded.  "James MacMillan."

Nick vaguely recognised the name, but he couldn't quite place it.

"And where did he work?" Agent Gale asked.

"With me.  But he--"  Natalie turned toward Nick for a second.  She
hadn't told him about this.  "James quit a month ago."

"Was he present during anything in particular?"

"The night I was shot...and outed to the media," Nick guessed.  "Right,
Nat?"

"Yeah, and two days later, he up and quit, no notice."

"Because of me," Nick whispered, closing his eyes.

Agent Gale focused in on Natalie.  "Did something happen between--"

Natalie quickly held up a hand and shook her head.  "No.  Nick didn't do
anything to him.  James believed that Nick had intentionally 'hoodwinked
us', I think is what he had said--which wasn't the case--and he was even
more upset when he found out how many people already knew what Nick was
and for how long--including me.  He quit as much because of me as
Nick's...deception, as he saw it."

"Because you're a vampire, too?" Agent Gale asked.

Natalie shook her head outright at that.

"But he said you're--"

"I am *now*, but I wasn't then."  Natalie nearly turned to go, then
added, "If you'd like, you can come by later and I can show you the
wounds on the body and explain my conclusion."

"No, thank you, or at least not right now.  Are you busy, Dr. Lambert?"

"Not at the moment.  Why?"

"While we suspect Detective Knight will fill you in later, we thought
you might like to be briefed a bit more thoroughly."

Natalie hesitated, but nodded, and Nick watched her follow Agent Gale
toward the hall.  Once again he was alone and stuck waiting for Schanke
to return...and dreading going by the Raven later.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"So, your partner not want to join us?" Schanke asked after a long block
of silence while he drove Nick and Agent Gale to the Raven.

"When we've gone to speak with them in our earlier investigations, we've
discovered that it's better if only one of us goes, and that vampires
generally respond better to women."  She said the last with a smile,
leaning her head back to get a glimpse of Nick in the back seat.

"So you get the dirty work because you get better results," Nick
replied.

"Only slightly better, as far as I can tell.  The bigger issue for us is
that Reilly isn't overly fond of vampires; he feels like he's suddenly
an entree on the menu."

"And you don't?" Schanke asked.

"Well, yes, I'll admit that I do," Agent Gale replied somewhat
uncomfortably.  "But I think women are a bit more used to that.  To me
it feels more...sexually motivated than like--"

"Being appraised for a meal," Schanke finished, then glanced up into the
rather blank rear-view mirror, hoping to see Nick's reaction.  Nada.  He
kept forgetting his partner had no reflection.  "So, Nick..."

"Your partner has never treated me that way, at least not that I've
noticed," she answered with another smile and glance back to Nick.  "I
do have a question for you before we go in, however..."

"Which is?"

"What would be the likely outcome if someone tried to kill the club's
owner, Lucien LaCroix?"

Schanke chuckled.  "Really?  You have to ask?  Don't tell me you haven't
seen the video of what he did to that so-called 'Agent' Beranger."

"Are you suggesting Mr. LaCroix has an issue with FBI agents?"

Schanke barely managed not to roll his eyes at her.  "No, I don't think
he has a beef with FBI agents.  He has issues with anyone stupid enough
to try to kill him, as would you," Schanke answered.  "Besides, LaCroix
didn't make the first move, you know.  Beranger did, and he shot him
almost a dozen times.  The guy obviously had every intention of killing
him."

"But what if he were attacked by another vampire?" Agent Gale asked.

"It's highly unlikely that would happen," Nick told her.  "I don't think
any vampire would be, as Schanke said, stupid enough to attempt it."

"Why do you say that?"

Schanke glanced back to Nick, then when his partner didn't reply,
answered, "You'll see.  Assuming he's there."

"He'll be there," Nick whispered back, just before Schanke pulled up
next to the curb down the street from the Raven.  He easily got out and
pulled the door open for the agent.  With his eyes locked on her, he
shut the door and stated, "Stick close to me and don't wander off."  He
walked around the agent and over to Schanke.

"So, what's he like as the owner, anyway?" Schanke asked in a whisper.

"Different than Janette," was all Nick dared say.

As they approached the entrance, both Agent Gale and Schanke noticed the
melodramatic signs on either side of the door.  The former nearly
commented, but Nick pulled open the door and his partner shooed her in.
"Stay close to me, don't get distracted, and don't wander off," he
reminded them.

Inside the club wasn't too different from the last time Nick had been
there, but he did notice there were more mortals present, and the club
didn't seem quite as deadly dangerous.  He did, however, hear the two
hearts behind him beat more nervously.  Turning, he spied Schanke's eyes
locked on someone across the room.  Following them, Nick winced.
LaCroix had apparently started the contest a bit early--a young
vampiress was slowly stripping to the loud music, and an appreciative
crowd had gathered around the makeshift stage.  On the plus side, he
knew LaCroix would certainly be in the club itself, and scanning the
room, Nick easily found his sire at the far end of the bar.  "Come on."

The other two followed Nick through the moderate sized crowd.  Many
turned toward the three, although only for a moment; there were, after
all, more interesting things to watch.

As the three approached, without even turning, LaCroix smiled and
commented, "More business, Nicholas?"  Then he turned and his attention
immediately locked onto the mortal woman.  "Or perhaps not," he
conjectured, smiling at her rather evilly.

"Special Agent Cassandra Gale, FBI," she introduced, flashing her badge.

LaCroix' grin didn't falter in the slightest, although his gaze drifted
slightly to Schanke.  "Quite enchanting, isn't she, Detective?"

The question barely managed to pull Schanke's attention away from the
scantily clad woman writhing provocatively on the stage.  He
semi-absently replied, "Yeah, she is," but he didn't look back at the
stage but down at the floor or, more specifically, at LaCroix' shiny and
unscuffed shoes.

LaCroix chuckled slightly at the mortal's reaction, then turned back to
the FBI agent.  "I assume you wish to speak to me?  Or feel you need
to."

"Yes, sir, and I wanted to inform you that a pair of serial killers
recently left the States, and we believe they are now here in Toronto.
They are targeting both vampires and mortals, usually those individuals
who were involved in revealing the existence of your kind to the world
that night."

"And?"

"They usually kill, or attempt to kill, three victims.  We believe that
here in Toronto, they may try killing more than one vampire."

"You, Janette, Natalie, Byron, and I would be their primary targets,"
Nick clarified.

"Janette is in Montreal," LaCroix immediately answered.  "Why should--"

"We know, but she's still a target," the FBI agent said, interrupting
him.  "It might be a good idea if she comes here for a few days, or at
the very least stays elsewhere.  And I'd like you to allow us to
reinstall the cameras outside the Raven...just for the time being."

"I will inform Janette.  And no, you may not."

"No?" Agent Gale asked, rather incredulous.  "These people may make an
attempt on your life, and--"

"Let them...try," LaCroix said with a predatory smile.  "This could
prove rather entertaining."

"It could be a vampire," Nick said.  "Or at the least, a vampire could
be involved."

"A vampire serial killer.  How very...novel," he said, almost bored.

"They've killed three of the five vampires they've picked," Agent Gale
told him.

"Is that supposed to make me cower in fear?" LaCroix asked, amused.

Before Agent Gale could suggest another question, Nick stepped forward
and whispered, "May I speak to you about this in private?"

LaCroix narrowed his eyes and glanced at his son.  "Very well.  If you
deem it important."

"I do."

LaCroix stood and headed toward his radio booth without replying.

Nick held out his hand when Agent Gale started forward, stopping her by
blocking her path between himself and the bar, then he glanced at his
partner, telling him, "Take her back to the car and wait for me there."

"Detective--"

"Either let me talk to him alone, or we all leave right now.  No matter
what you try, he's not going to concede to you."

"And he will to you?"

"Probably not, or at least not directly."  Nick managed a smile, but
shook his head.  "Go on, Schanke; don't just stand here and watch the
show," he said with a nod toward the dancer.

At this, Schanke took another glance and somewhat froze.

Nick leaned in and whispered, "She's a vampire," into his partner's ear,
which effectively got the other man's attention and frightened him a
touch.  "Hopefully I won't be long."

Schanke nodded and reluctantly turned away from the dancer and toward
the door.

Nick smiled, watching Schanke and Agent Gale to be sure they made their
way safely through the crowd.  Once they were nearly to the exit, he
turned and slipped into the radio booth, shutting the door.

"An FBI agent?  And you brought her here?"

"She has good intentions."

"Was she speaking the truth?"

Nick closed his eyes.  "Yes.  Today a mortal was found murdered,
drained, staked, beheaded--"

"Overkill, even for--"

"--burned, tied to a makeshift cross with ropes drenched in holy water
and left in a church.  That's not simple overkill, it's a message."

"Clearly."

"According to their files, in San Francisco these...they entered a club,
drugged and staked the club owner, and escaped without being caught.
While the club was open.  Have you heard anything about that?"

"Perhaps.  But I don't believe it was part of any--"

"Toronto is the sixth city they've targeted.  If nothing else, warn
Janette.  I think it might be a good idea for her to return here, stay
close to us for a few days.  Just until they're caught."

LaCroix paused, thinking for a moment, then asked, "And if these mortals
or vampires come here, you wish for me to...arrest them?"

"I'm not sure it really matters," Nick muttered.

An eyebrow lifted in mild surprise.  "That's an odd response from you,
Nicholas."

"If it's a vampire, which it seems like at least one--"

"Ah, yes, vampires' lives don't matter much to you, do they?"  He
smirked.  "And if it's a mortal?"

Nick glared at his sire.  "It's not that, LaCroix, and you know it.
What I mean is that, if you happened to kill them, it would likely be
ruled self-defence.  Although to be safe, legally, I'd think they'd have
to inject the drug into someone, or at least try."

"Drug?"  LaCroix abruptly seemed less amused and considerably more
serious.

"A dose of a strong sedative.  Enough to kill most mortals."

"A sedative wouldn't--"

"It wouldn't kill us, I know, but it will apparently knock us out for a
few seconds, or maybe even a few minutes.  Long enough for them to kill
us while we're defenceless.  Even you could be killed that way."

LaCroix' smirk returned.  "Concerned for me?  How very thoughtful of
you."

Nick ignored the taunt.  "Just...be careful the next few days.  They
have succeeded in killing three of the five vampires they've attacked.
The other two survived, or that's the assumption."

"And the mortals?"

"They start their pattern by killing one as I described, then they kill
another more...quickly.  Of those, three have died and two are
unconscious and may not recover.  Most were cops or worked with local
police.  Nat and I are also both on that list--that's why we think their
target could be two vampires this time.  But they might not know
that...yet."

"And if they go for you?"

"If we're at the loft, it'll be the three of us against, we assume, two
of them--one mortal and one vampire.  You do the math."

"Three?"

"Schanke will be staying at my place the next few days."

After a moment, LaCroix nodded.  "I will tell Janette and ask her to
come here."

"And will you somehow warn Byron?" Nick asked, and after a moment, he
got another nod.  Then he started for the door and left when his sire
didn't say anything further.

He crossed the club quickly, going to the entrance and outside.  As he
hoped, Schanke and Agent Gale were waiting in the car.  Even before he
got to the car, he could see how upset she was.  Getting in, he told his
partner, "Back to the precinct," and his partner started the car and
pulled away.

"Knight, that was--"

"Your warning has been delivered, Agent Gale," he brusquely cut off.
"And now you've seen the club.  That's what you really wanted, wasn't
it?  To see how easy it will be for anyone to get inside?"

"Very easy," she answered, unsettled.  "Most of the other clubs I've
been in have limited access or charge a cover or something.  But here,
anyone can walk in and--"

"And?"

"And you're right.  Unless our suspects are completely insane, they
won't try going after him.  Or if they do, they'll probably get
themselves killed, won't they?"  When he didn't answer, she added, "But
all that means is that they're more likely to target--"

"I know what it means," Nick said, cutting her off.  But in his
thoughts, he was wondering if they could use that to their advantage.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (078/111)

"Will he come?" Agent Gale asked, checking her watch for the dozenth
time in as many minutes.

Nick glanced up from a file on his desk to where the agent was sitting
at his partner's desk.  Her partner had gone to their hotel and Schanke
had already left.  After coming back to the precinct, he had run an idea
past first Schanke and then Agent Gale.  After that, he had called back
to the Raven to see if LaCroix would agree.

"Detective?"

Nick glanced at his own watch now--ten minutes after five, the time by
which he had told LaCroix to deliver his message.  Frankly, he expected
his sire to call, rather than come by--or come by his loft.  "Another
five minutes," he said.

"And then what?"

"And then you go to your hotel and I go home."

"I don't see why he needs four hours to decide if he'd mind a few extra
eyes to watch the club," she said, clearly annoyed.

"Because I'm sure he knows you'll put even more eyes outside the club as
well."

"Only for a few days, probably less if we can somehow spot them before
they act.  We might actually do that, since, thanks to you, we now have
a photograph of one of them."

Nick's eyes darted to an image taken from one of the agent's previous
security attempts.  In two of the attacks on vampires, the same face had
appeared going into the club....at locations two thousand miles apart.
The FBI hadn't spotted it, but while they had him review the previous
cases, he had also reviewed their security footage, and he picked up the
clue.  While it could be a coincidence...it was unlikely.

Agent Gale grimaced.  "Look, I get it, you obviously don't like me.  Not
sure if it's because I'm female, FBI, human--"

"Mortal, not 'human'," Nick retorted, his annoyance also creeping in.
"And we've both been up since...who knows how long, and--"

He abruptly froze, something creeping into his senses.  Not LaCroix.
And not Natalie.  She had come up behind him enough times since she had
been brought over that he thought he could recognise her.  Maybe.
Turning, he found not Natalie but Janette slowly making her way toward
him from the front desk area.

"Hmm, you have a new partner, Nicolas?" Janette smiled, glancing at the
blonde woman sitting across from Nick.

"She's FBI."

"Special Agent Cassandra Gale.  And I believe you are Janette DuCharme,
correct?"

The vampiress continued smiling politely at the agent.

"Are you here for a visit or to deliver a message?" Gale asked politely.

Janette ignored her and turned her smile to Nick.  "Perhaps both."

"What did he say?"

"That he cannot guarantee the safety of either yourselves or
these...murderers.  I quite like the idea of a...hunt, myself."

"It's not a...hunt," Nick corrected her, averting his eyes slightly,
only to find himself looking at Agent Gale.  "We'd like our suspects
alive."

She shook her head slightly.  "LaCroix informed me that you asked that
they be 'alive if possible'.  You know that may not be...possible."  The
vampiress again turned to the mortal woman, her expression hardening
slightly.  "And keep your video surveillance outside the Raven."  She
turned back and whispered to Nick, "I do hope Natalie will be joining
you tomorrow.  While I am not pleased at being asked to return, I do
look forward to--"

"She'll be there."

"Hmm."  Janette leaned down further and asked even more quietly, "He
tells me she has brought out your true nature a bit.  Is that true?"

Nick turned toward Janette and saw that she almost seemed concerned, yet
pleased.  Had LaCroix told her what they had done, what he had done?

"I suppose I shall see," Janette whispered, smiling with a touch of
amusement.  Then she once again became serious, "I must return to the
club to decide on our sleeping arrangements.  Unless he's added more
than that radio booth...  I am not sleeping on that wretched couch of
his."

Nick smiled at that, then stiffened slightly when she first kissed him
on the cheek, then touched him there lightly before she left.  When he
glanced back at Agent Gale, he noticed her examining him with obvious
curiosity.  Ignoring her, he stood and started gathering his things,
mainly his extra jacket and hat from earlier.  "I would give you a ride
to your hotel, but--"

"No need.  I have our rental.  Your partner drove Reilly to our hotel
when he left."  She smiled at him and nodded toward his extra coat.  "I
think you're the one who might want a ride home."

"I can get home on my own."

"I am aware of that, but really, I must insist."

Nick hesitated, turning to walk away from her, but he didn't leave,
fearing if he refused, she might then ask Cohen for his address,
assuming she didn't already have it.  He knew the agent had periodically
eyed him and likely wanted to get him alone.  He sighed, realising that
he might as well get it over with.  Reluctantly he waved his free hand
toward the door, saying, "After you," and the mortal smiled and started
out.

Once Agent Gale had wordlessly pulled out and started in the correct
direction, she started, "So, Detective, how much of this is not what it
seems?"

"What do you mean?"

"That club...the Raven.  It felt different than the other clubs I've
been in that cater to your kind."

"It's undergone a recent change of ownership."  Turning toward her, he
added, "Which you are apparently aware of."  Remembering Tracy's comment
from a bit over a week before, he smiled and asked, "Am I what you
expected?"

"No, not at all," Agent Gale answered quickly and then, after a moment
of thought, continued, "Your background and what you are paints a rather
dark picture, as well as certain...assumptions.  Some I'm sure are true,
but overall you seem much more...normal...than the other vampires I've
met."

"Don't be so sure you haven't met others."

"I probably have--especially if there are others like you, working
unnoticed in more ordinary jobs.  Frankly, you're the first vampire I've
met--that I know of--who works with us humans.  Or 'mortals', as you
call us."  She paused before asking, "May I ask why that bothers you?
Is it because that, by referring to ourselves as human, it implies that
you're not human?"

Nick looked out the window, trying to think of the best way to answer.

"Or is it something else?  Somehow I don't think the Raven's owner would
have an issue with the distinction.  Either the current or previous
owner, for that matter.  Frankly, they are much more what I expected."
Again she paused, but this time she smiled and glanced over at him
before asking, "Unless...  Do your personalities change with time, or--"

"Or what?" he interrupted.  "Doesn't everyone's personality change
somewhat from their experiences?"  He shrugged as if this should be
self-evident.

"But if it was merely experiences that mould someone...correct me if I'm
wrong, but your experiences probably aren't much different than--"

"Make your observation, Agent Gale."

She stiffened somewhat, then admitted, "Okay, Detective.  You should
know I've seen all the information on you that I could get my hands on.
I requested your file--a rather thick file, at that--and read it on the
plane."  She paused, glancing at her passenger, who was once again
turned away from her, before continuing, "You and LaCroix have
often--more than not--lived in the same city at the same times for
possibly your entire time as a vampire."

"And?"

"And yet you two seem quite different from one another."  Now she smiled
again.  "Or at least on the surface.  I guess my question is, are you
two really that different, or--"

"We are both vampires."

"Yes, but you didn't rip the throat out of the nearest person when you
were injured.  Or kill the one who injured you."

"Those were two drastically different situations."

"Are you saying you would have done the same thing he did if you were
the one who was shot repeatedly like that?"

"I can't say," he said, although he knew he very possibly would have.
What LaCroix had done was as much instinct for survival as retaliation.

Agent Gale was silent for a long moment as she considered his
noncommittal response, then decided to abandon that line of questioning
and change the subject.  "I get the impression that if either LaCroix or
Ms. DuCharme is targeted, they will very possibly kill their attacker.
Am I right?"  She waited, and when she didn't get a response, prodded,
"That was a question...in case you didn't notice."

"Very possibly," he answered, repeating her own phrase.

"What about Dr. Lambert?  Or you?  While you have a good track record,
Dr. Lambert is--"

"If she is the one they attack, then I can't guarantee what either of us
will or will not do.  As you said, I have a good track record, and no,
Natalie has never been in quite this kind of situation.  But all of this
is sheer speculation--there's nothing I can say that isn't.  And this is
assuming one of us or someone else at the club is targeted first.  That
might not even--"

"They'll go after a vampire first.  I'm certain they will."

Nick turned sharply back to her.  "How can you be so sure?"

"Because of some particular things that have happened here, which has
led to the news having significantly more reports on vampires causing
trouble than us.  First, a woman from your mayor's office turned up dead
at the hands of a vampire.  Next, of course, was LaCroix' widely
publicised survival--and subsequent attack, of Beranger.  And on top of
that, there's all of the attention they've given to you."  She paused
again, and by now they were nearly to Nick's loft.  Slowing her car to a
stop next to Schanke's, Gale told him, "Reilly is the one who picked up
on this, and when comparing the choice of victims with the news topics
covered in the various cities...there does appear to be a strong
correlation between their choice of victims and the extent of their
involvement in local events.  Here in Toronto, that means they'll almost
certainly go for a vampire first."

Nick opened his door to leave, then tensed and turned back when he felt
her touch his arm.

"But like you said, that doesn't mean for sure they'll go for the club
itself first, so--"

"Don't worry about us.  We'll be fine," he muttered, then got out and
shut the door to the car, not glancing back at her on his way inside.
Once out of sight, he shut his eyes and listened for the car to pull
away.  It did, and he had to call the elevator down.

After taking it up and pulling the door open, he immediately cringed
back.  Garlic.  Pizza, if he was right, and yes, there on the counter
was what was left of a pizza.  Thankfully it was covered, but he knew
his partner must have cooked it there by how foul the air smelled.  His
eyes darted to the sofa where Schanke sat with a plate, eating, and he
started toward him.  "Schanke--" he said in a definitely warning tone.

The mortal looked up, wide-eyed, and raised a greasy hand defensively.
"No, no, no, Natalie already raked me over the coals, so you don't need
to ream me a new one too, all right?  I already got the hint about no
more pizza and absolutely--and with no exceptions--no more
garlic--*ever*.  So don't worry, it'll be gone by tonight, I promise.
Usually these are missing the garlic, but noooo, not this one.  That, or
else they started adding extra when, well...  Can't really say.  Haven't
bought one of this brand for a while.  Myra thinks they have too much
grease."  Schanke bit into his slice and scarfed another bite down, as
if he was rushing eating and had been for a while.  "Look, I've already
eaten almost half of it," he mumbled, his mouth full.

"Eating it won't really help much, Skank," Nick said, shaking his head.

"Does that mean I'll be less appetising tomorrow night?"

"Hardly.  Just more offensive.  And...annoying."

Schanke's eyes widened at that.  "Maybe I should toss it, then, and
yeah, I know, I know--gotta be somewhere *outside*.  So is there a
dumpster or something around here somewhere?"

Nick shook his head.  "I don't know, but...just don't get another one of
those things until you're on your way home, okay?"

Schanke nodded his head vigorously, then took another large bite of his
slice of pizza, chewed and swallowed, then wondered, "Hey, Knight, you
sure you're okay with this?  Me staying here for a couple of days, I
mean?"

"Except for the pizza, it's not a problem.  Besides, it's not as if you
haven't stayed here before."

"Yeah, I know, but--"  He lowered his voice to a whisper, "But that was
with just you.  And you weren't exactly thrilled about it that other
time."

"You're not imposing."

Schanke fidgeted and put what remained of his pizza back on his plate,
which was on the coffee table.  "It's not--  It's--"  He stared up
toward the bedroom.

Starting to see where Schanke was going with his rambling, Nick told
him, "Don't worry.  Natalie won't hurt you."

"But she--"  Again Schanke dropped his tone to a whisper, then
continued, "When she got here, she kinda...  Er, I think the garlic
kinda...ticked her off or something.  She grabbed one of those bottles
and shut herself in the bedroom.  And boy can she move."

"I'm sure it's fine.  Just--"

"I swear, Nick--no more garlic; not beyond the rest of the pizza.  And
not even that if it's really that big a deal.  I had no idea it would
have so much on it.  Honestly, I think they must have started adding
extra or something."

Nick smiled.  He suspected that was likely the case; after all, garlic
was a widely known and easily available vampire deterrent.  Effective,
too.  Then he glanced toward the upper level.  "I'll be upstairs if you
need--"

Schanke reached down to the floor and held up a pillow.  "No prob.
Remembered you're a bit scarce on extras."

Nick's smile widened for a moment, then he started over to and up the
stairs to the bedroom.  He paused outside the door, knocked ever so
lightly, then entered.  "Natalie?" he whispered, then found her already
dressed for bed in a t-shirt and pants of his, sitting cross-legged in
the middle of the bed, holding a bottle of blood in front of her.  He
carefully shut the door, keeping his eyes on her.  "Schanke said--"

"I heard, and it's fine," she whispered back.

Nick remained concerned until she looked up, where he could see her
slightly smiling.

"And I haven't even had any of this," she said, holding the bottle up
slightly, then letting it gently fall on its side.  "Forgot to get a
glass," she explained sheepishly.

Nick grinned.  "So you changed clothes instead."

"Yeah.  Schanke need anything?  Other than some reassurance that I'm not
going to...eat him."  She rolled her eyes, then grinned at that thought,
and finally turned her attention back to the bottle.  "And I guess I
should either put this back, or--"

He nodded, walked forward, and held his hand out to Natalie, then let
her pull herself up.  "Go on.  I'll be down in a few."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (079/111)

"You know, I hate to say it, but I think those agents are right,"
Schanke said through his dinner of cold pizza, flipping through the
files Agent Gale had given them.  "They'll probably go after two
vampires this time.  Especially if they can get to 'em at the same
place, which..." 

Schanke glanced up to see Nick glaring at him, drinking out of a glass.
His partner was already dressed to go to the Raven that night...and his
breakfast was pretty much gone.

"They'll have a chance tonight," Nick finished when Schanke tensed and
froze mid-thought.

"Yeah, and with our luck, it'll snow if and when they show up and we'll
miss 'em.  They're calling for it, you know.  And you are gonna wear
a--"  Schanke stopped again, his eyes widening when he saw Natalie walk
up behind Nick.  Her shoulders and arms were nearly bare, her outfit
considerably more eye-catching and definitely more seductive than usual.
She looked more like Janette than the Natalie Lambert he was used to
seeing, and he swallowed hard in surprise.  "Er, coat?"

Nick turned and glanced to Natalie, then smiled.

"That's part of some plan of yours, isn't it?" Schanke asked, nodding
toward Natalie.

"Of course," Nick confirmed.

"Isn't that, well, kinda dangerous?"

"I'll be with Nick or--I'm guessing--Janette all of the time, so your
suspects might be in for more than they bargained for, especially if
they don't know about my recent change of sides."

"But won't they be able to tell?" Schanke asked, his concern still
rising.  "If you're right that one of 'em is a vampire, that is."

Natalie turned to Nick for that answer.  She couldn't always tell when
there was such a mix of people, but she wasn't sure if that was
something one learned, or...  "Nick?"

"If they're paying attention," Nick slowly answered.  "If they are, and
they get close enough...they'll know."

Schanke shoved what little remained of his pizza in his mouth, then
grabbed his plate and headed to the kitchen.

Natalie moved a bit further out of his way than necessary, then asked
Nick, "You coming?"

"Coming where?" Schanke asked, now finished chewing the last piece of
his pizza.

"The morgue."

"I thought we were meeting Gale and Reilly at the precinct."

"We are.  At seven-thirty," Nick reminded him.

"Don't worry, Skank; we'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, now I'm more worried about myself," Schanke said
uncomfortably.

Nick smiled and shook his head at that.  "Thought you agreed with the
'vampires are next' assessment.  Change your mind?"

"Er."  Schanke tried to think of a response, but couldn't.  "Okay,
yeah."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"I have a feeling this is going to get rather...boring," Natalie
whispered to Nick after they arrived at the Raven and entered.  "More so
than work usually is."  She glanced at him and saw a slight smile.
Turning back to the bar, she saw Janette grinning at both of them.  "Oh,
no.  I've been dreading this."

"It's not as though you two haven't met."

"So?  I don't know what she really thinks about me.  Frankly, at times I
felt rather like a third wheel, and I can't see Janette accepting that
spot now."

"Janette..."  Nick smiled to himself at the comment.  In truth, since
LaCroix was usually focused on him, she usually *was* left out.  He
couldn't think how many times LaCroix had told him to leave Janette
behind if it meant their survival.  He had a strange feeling that
Janette would still be the one left behind, if it came to it.  "Nat, I'm
sure she likes you just fine."

"Will like or used to like?" she whispered, resisting a little as Nick
pushed her gently forward with a hand on her back.  So far the club
wasn't overly busy, and within moments, she and Nick had crossed to the
bar where Janette sat on a stool.

Janette continued to smile at the two, her attention flitting between
Nick and Natalie, not sure on whom she should focus.  Once they
approached, slightly facing one another, she reached forward to touch
her brother's jacket near where his gun was hidden.  "Hmm, still playing
games with the mortals, Nicolas?" she asked, but all she received for
her taunt was an incredulous look.  "Not that I expected otherwise.
Where is your partner?  I half expected him to follow you in."

"Surveillance."

"Ah.  And you're the bait," she said softly but with a hint of distaste
at the idea.  She let her gaze shift to Natalie, who had averted her
eyes.  Gently she grabbed the other woman's hand, then turned back to
her brother.  "Why don't you go be your vulnerable-looking bait
somewhere else, Nicolas?"

Nick hesitated, but seeing Janette's gaze turn from an almost bright,
welcoming smile to annoyance, he turned to Natalie and whispered, "It's
okay," and kissed her on the cheek before he slowly moved away.

Natalie looked up when she felt herself being pulled closer to Janette,
now by both hands.

"I have to say our eternal youth suits you, Natalie."  She turned her
sister so that she was facing away from the bar and leaned closer, over
the other woman's shoulder.  "Just see how they look at you."  Her eyes
settled on Nick, and she pulled on Natalie's arm again and turned her
slightly.  "And how *he* looks at you.  You've made our poor, moping
Nicolas...happy.  I haven't seen him like this for quite some time."

Natalie met Nick's gaze across the club, at which they both turned
away--Nick returned to his search for the face from the photograph or
anything odd, and Natalie focused back on Janette.

Gently and almost hesitantly Janette probed, "How is he coping with
everything?"

Natalie was slightly startled by the question, not by the other woman's
tone, but the reluctance behind it.  "What?"

"LaCroix told me about your...lessons...and what he had Nicolas do, what
he had both of you do.  I had to pry it out of him and I sense he is
still holding *something* back.  LaCroix is not known to
be...forthcoming, unless it suits him."

Natalie turned back to those in the club, avoiding where she knew Nick
stood, although she could almost feel his eyes watching them.

"Did Nicolas--"

"Yes," she breathed, again glancing back toward Janette, but not meeting
her eyes.

"Hmm, perhaps we can continue that conversation later."  Janette
stiffened for a moment, then her smile reappeared and she turned to her
glass on the bar.  Picking it up, she swirled the contents slightly and
asked, "Have you tried mixing a little wine with your...nourishment?"

"Ah, no, I haven't," she told her truthfully.  To be honest, she had a
feeling the mixture tasted better when she had been mortal, simply by
how it smelled now.

Janette's smile became more mischievous, and she handed out her glass.
"Try a little--just a little.  It does take some getting used to.  After
all, it is...an acquired taste."

Natalie reluctantly took the glass, wishing she were back in the morgue
doing an autopsy, or even paperwork--anywhere but here.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"A Roman, first century..." LaCroix paused, chuckled slightly, then
continued, "...once said that 'Religion is regarded by the common people
as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful.'  Who,
gentle listeners, knows a prime example?  Let us see if...the historian
knows.  Yes?"

"Julius Caesar," a woman's voice answered.

"Very good.  Finally some...educated listeners.  And the quote?"

"Seneca, I th--"

LaCroix laughed and he cut the caller off.  "Yes, perhaps a 2,000 year
old observation, but still quite valid, nonetheless.  Those who wish to
rule, wish for power, often use the beliefs of the people to their
advantage.  They simply win their will and then use them to support--"

Agent Gale shut off the car's radio.  "How the hell does he pick that
topic?"

"What topic?" Schanke absently asked, squinting through the snow to the
entrance to the club.  It wasn't overly thick, but thick enough that
many of those entering the club flitted annoyingly into and out of
sight, and he knew why.  "Ugh, why can't they just walk?  The snow just
started."

"That show on the radio, Detective Schanke.  Did your partner talk to
Lucien LaCroix sometime since this morning?"

"Er, no, not that I'm aware," he nervously answered, not taking his eyes
off the front of the club.  "This is pointless.  I'm going to check
inside."

"I'll do that, Detective.  You've already been in twice, and forgive me,
but you don't exactly blend in."

"And what's that supposed to mean?  How many times have you been inside
these clubs?  Our suspects have probably already seen you.  It'll tip
them off that we're watching for them, waiting for them to--"

"It hasn't yet," she said, cutting him off.  "And, Detective, I haven't
exactly gone in as an FBI agent every time; I'm sure I won't be
noticed."  Agent Gale turned her gaze toward Reilly, who was also
watching the entrance attentively.  "Now, Reilly here--"

"No way, not me.  I'm not going back into one of those places unless I
have to.  I'd much, much rather sit here all night and stare at a door I
can't even quite see."

"As opposed to being lunch?" Schanke asked, a bit amused by the agent's
fear.  "Pretty sure I've been there, done that, myself."

Reilly took his eyes off the club for a couple of seconds, a bit
startled by the detective's apparent nonchalant attitude toward nearly
being bitten, then resumed his task.

By then, Agent Gale had undone her door and was starting to get out.
"I'll check on Vetter and Flanagan, too."

"Now that I can't believe," Reilly said while his partner got out and
shut the car door.

"What can't you believe?" Schanke asked, not sure what the comment
meant.

"We haven't exactly been getting volunteers for this kind of stuff.  The
local cops we've worked with generally want nothing to do with clubs
like the Raven.  But here...  Here we had more volunteers than we
needed."  He again glanced at Schanke.  "And trust me when I say she
won't be noticed.  I think your medical examiner will draw more
attention."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Hmm, Nick, I think we have company," Natalie whispered, her eyes on
Gale as the agent entered the club and started toward them.  Almost
immediately she felt Nick's hands around her waist loosen and felt him
move more to her side.  She glanced down when Agent Gale smiled at her
and Nick.

"Having fun?" the agent asked, casually moving off to the other side of
Nick, her gaze focused out into the club.

"Actually this is quite...boring," Natalie told her.  "Ag--"

"Cassandra," she whispered, but it was enough to stop the other woman
from replying.  "Anything new?"

"No," Nick said.  "He hasn't been in."

"Anyone else lurking around?"

He smiled, but didn't shift his gaze away from the crowd.  "Isn't that
what clubs are for?" he asked.  "But no, I haven't seen anything
unusual."  He paused a moment, then pulled Natalie closer.  "Nat--"

"Go ask Janette.  On my way."  She felt Nick kiss her on her forehead,
then she was able to slip out of his hold and start across the now much
busier club--it was nearly midnight, and one couldn't walk across the
club without running into someone.  This trip, however, she found
herself nearly knocked off balance.  A hand caught her, she heard a
muttered 'sorry', and then she was back on her way.  The muttered
apology was a bit odd and stuck in her mind, but within moments, she had
extricated herself from the others and arrived at the bar.

"Hmm, I see Miss Gale decided to join us," Janette whispered, her eyes
locked on the agent across the room.  "I take it she wants to know if
I've seen anything."

"Yep."

"No.  I still haven't seen the man from the photograph."

Natalie glanced behind her, then quietly asked, "You didn't happen to
see who it was that ran into me on my way over here, did you?"

Janette stiffened at that, clearly uncomfortable.  "Ran into you?"

"Yeah, someone about knocked me over, grabbed my arm, apologised, then
vanished before I could pick him out."

"Someone did the same to me perhaps twenty minutes ago.  Clumsy young
man.  I figured someone had pushed him, or...something.  The club is a
bit rowdier, but--"

"We need to tell Nick."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (080/111)

"I am perfectly fine," Natalie insisted, pulling out of Nick's grasp,
which sent him pacing again.  "As is Janette," she added, noticing that
he seemed to want to pester her as well.

"You've been--"

"Tagged," she answered.  "I know."

"I was going to say marked," Nick told her, frustrated

"Tagged is a good description," Agent Gale interrupted.  "Nick didn't
get similar treatment, and frankly all but one of the vampires they've
attacked were women.  So it was somewhat expected."

"Why didn't you say anything earlier about this...tagging?" Janette
asked.  She tried not to pace, uncomfortable at the idea that someone
had gotten that close to her, actually touched her.

"We didn't know about it," Agent Reilly replied.  "After all, your
people haven't been very forthcoming, Ms. DuCharme.  Especially not the
two vampires who survived--they wouldn't tell us anything."

"They probably didn't even realise they had been picked ahead of time,"
Natalie answered.  "Possibly still don't.  I wouldn't have mentioned it
to Janette if it hadn't just happened."

Janette looked away slightly, but admitted, "And I would not have
mentioned it, either."

"And neither of you got a good look at him?" Agent Reilly asked.

Natalie shook her head.  "I didn't see him at all."

"I only saw him from behind.  All I can say is it was not the man from
the photograph, and the young man was a vampire."

"How do you know that?" Agent Gale asked, curious.

Janette stared back blankly at the unnecessary question.

"I think Janette's right," Natalie responded, avoiding the question.
She touched her bare upper arm where she had been grabbed--the hand
hadn't been any warmer than her own.  "Whoever bumped into me was
definitely a vampire."

"My partner and I would like to ask what you remember about him," Agent
Gale asked Janette.

"Can't Detective Knight--"

"I'm sorry, but no," she said, cutting the vampiress off.  "We'll have
to call it off for now.  We just got a call, a special request to have
Dr. Lambert head back to the morgue.  I'm fairly sure Knight will be
accompanying her, correct?"

Nick nodded and moved slightly nearer to Natalie, his gaze still on the
agents.  Reilly seemed more uncomfortable than Janette, but he was
surprised Agent Gale still hadn't shown any nervousness.  The two agents
were, after all, sharing the room with three vampires.  "Nat?"

She nodded and started for the door, which Nick opened.  Entering the
main part of the club, her eyes darted to LaCroix, who was watching from
outside his radio booth.  She stayed close to Nick as they left, only to
nearly run into Schanke a few steps beyond the main entrance.

"Hey, you two.  Nat, you all right?"

"Yeah, as I told Nick--"

"She's fine, as is Janette."

"Not sure about Agent Reilly, though," Natalie told Schanke, smiling
slightly.  "They told me I've got a patient, so--"

"Oh, you want my car?" Schanke said, digging in his coat pockets for his
keys.  "I know neither of you drove, and I can get a ride back.  This
snow's got to be a bit of a--"

"I think it's nice," Natalie said once he had found his keys and held
them out, and she smiled and turned to Nick.  "Thanks for the offer, but
I think we'll decline."

Nick smiled back and pulled Natalie slightly closer.

"Yeah, but..."  Schanke lowered his voice to a whisper before he
continued, "But can you see where you're going in it?  And isn't
it...well, doesn't it sting to go through at high speed or something?"

Nick chuckled slightly.  "It's dry snow, Skank.  And we both know where
we're going."  He then steered Natalie around Schanke, and once they
were a short distance away, they both took off.

Staring after them, Schanke felt a tiny bit creeped out, despite that
he'd been watching vampires come and go in a flit of flakes most of the
night.  "Not sure I'll ever get used to that."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"That is...disgusting," Janette said not even an hour after they had all
left the club, peering half curious and half sickened at Natalie's
gloved but bloodied hands and her cut-open patient.  "How do you stand
it?"

"What, the blood?" Natalie asked.

"The slowly rotting corpse.  It's...ugh," Janette responded, shivering
as she turned away and moved so that Nick was between her and the
autopsy table.  Not that it really helped much.  She locked her gaze on
him, at which she started forward and touched his face.

"Janette--" he started to protest and pushed her hand away.

"I'm sorry, Nicolas, it's--I'd much rather kill them than see them days
later, decomposing and being...dissected."  She turned toward Natalie at
that.  "No offence to your choice of employment, although, honestly, I
am surprised you are able to continue in your job."

"It has been...interesting at times," Natalie admitted and replaced an
organ.

"Even LaCroix expressed his surprise.  Granted, I think--"

"Janette, what did you come here for?"

"I can't come to visit?  I believe that mortal is staying with you until
these suspects of yours are either caught or move on."  She paused,
tensing slightly for a moment before telling him, "I came because those
agents are on their way here."

"Why?" Natalie asked, turning with another organ--a liver--in her hand,
half presenting it to the other two.

"Please, can you not do that right now?" Janette asked, her eyes on the
disembodied organ.  Then, smiling mischievously, she suggested, "Or at
least wait until that squeamish mortal arrives."

"What about the squeamish--"

"I am not--" Janette retorted, indignant.

"Good grief.  You're doing worse than most of the detectives on their
first time in," Natalie stated, plopping the liver unceremoniously into
a scale.  She nodded at Nick, he clicked her recorder, and she read off,
"Liver weighs one point eight three kilos."

Janette kept quiet, but shivered again.  Once the recorder had been
clicked off, she continued as Natalie replaced the organ back in its
cavity, "But it is for a different reason.  Those mortals questioning me
repeatedly on if I 'remembered anything more' make me want to--I wish
to--"  She closed her eyes, trying to block out the scent of blood, but
again it did no good.  "I believe they wish to question both of you, ask
if you remember anything about the vampire I saw.  That woman...she is
persistent.  And annoying."  She opened her eyes and turned toward her
brother, smiling again.  "And I think she likes you.  I would stay and
make things...interesting for you," she said, leaning forward and nearly
kissing him, "but I am...thirsty."  She reached up and touched his lips,
then pulled away, her gaze turning to Natalie for a moment before she
left.

Nick closed his eyes once Janette had left, thankful for whatever reason
that she hadn't kissed him.  He heard Natalie start to pull her gloves
off in front of him.  Opening his eyes, he felt her now bare hand touch
the side of his face right before she kissed him.  Pulling back, he
smiled.  "A bit of envy?"

"Hmm, no."  Natalie grinned.  "For one, I don't think you can help how
you--"  She stopped, turning toward the door to the morgue as it opened
and the two agents entered.  Her grin intensified slightly, then she
turned away from them and went to get rid of her sullied gloves.  Once
she had, she turned back to Agents Gale and Reilly--the latter appearing
decidedly green.  "So, what are you here to ask us?"

Reilly lost some of his discomfort at this, now appearing somewhat
surprised, but asked, "If you remember seeing a young-looking man--early
twenties with shoulder-length dark brown hair?"

Natalie turned toward Nick, but told the agents, "Yeah, but...frankly
that's not too unusual in the Raven."

"Then did you notice anyone there who you haven't seen before?" the
agent suggested.

"Sorry, but neither of us really frequent the club," Nick said.

Agent Gale tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at him.  "That's not what
I've heard.  I believe you were AWOL and at the Raven the night--"

"I was there to speak to Janette, not to mingle," he answered, lying
slightly.  "And Natalie's right.  I must have seen a good half-dozen who
fit your description at the Raven tonight."

"And you are positive the man who bumped into you was a vampire?" Agent
Gale asked animatedly.

"Yes," Natalie told them, her gaze on Reilly, who was eyeing her patient
rather cautiously, trying to look away, but not able to so. 

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me how you can be certain about
that?"  Now a touch of anger began working its way in, and Agent Gale
stepped closer.  "Janette still wouldn't say, even after you two left."

Natalie walked up to the agent and grabbed the mortal's bare wrist in a
tight grip.  "Notice something, Agent Gale?"

The agent tried to pull free from the hold, but completely failed.  Then
she answered, "Your skin is cold."

"To you, yes.  And to me, your skin feels downright hot."  Natalie felt
pleasure when the other woman showed a hint of fear in the quick pulse
under her skin and tried to pull her hand away again.  "Our body
temperatures are different enough to tell at a touch, if one is paying
attention."  Finally she let go of the mortal's wrist.

Agent Gale moved several steps away, clearly fighting the urge to rub
her wrist, her gaze locked on Natalie, who was now getting a fresh pair
of gloves.

"That means you know something new," Nick asked, turning the agent's
attention to her.  "The man from the photograph is likely a mortal."

"Yes, but that really doesn't help that much.  And I don't want you
looking for him again, Detective Knight.  Tomorrow night your focus must
be on the vampire."

Nick didn't like that idea--they had nothing but a vague description of
that suspect.  "What if the mortal--"

Agent Gale stepped forward, shaking her head.  "As long as both Natalie
and Janette are in the Raven, they'll almost assuredly go for both."

"And the vampire will go for Janette," Natalie replied, stopping once
she reached the autopsy table.  "Your plan is for Nick to take out the
vampire who tapped us whenever he goes for Janette, and for me to--"

"It may not come to that, but yes, giving them the opportunity to go
after both of you at once is the best chance to catch both of them,"
Agent Gale confirmed.

Her partner continued, explaining, "We're hoping they'll try at the same
time, which means that by watching your surroundings and each other, you
should have some warning."

"Natalie's not been trained to arrest or otherwise detain anyone."

"True, but I think she'll be relatively safe on her own, yes?" Agent
Reilly asked.

Neither Nick nor Natalie could deny that.  All they managed was to
glance at one another, and after a moment, Nick nodded.  "Probably," he
admitted.  "You didn't find either of them in the club, I take it?"

"No.  There was no sign of either.  It's highly likely they
left--tonight was just a test," Agent Reilly told them, then asked,
"Once Dr. Lambert is done here, we hope you'll both meet us back at your
precinct.  If you have any questions or concerns, you can bring them up
then."

"Of course," Natalie replied somewhat absently.  Then, when the agents
looked toward the door but didn't leave quite yet, she turned to Nick.
"You need to come back over here with my voice recorder...wherever you
put it."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (081/111)

Schanke crept slowly up the stairs at Nick's loft, his gun drawn.  Then,
without knocking on the bedroom door, he carefully and almost silently
opened the door, entered the room, and again closed the door.  "Nick!"
he called in a harsh whisper.  "I think I hear something on the roof..."

Nick, already awake, turned toward Natalie and mumbled something
unintelligible.  This was the third time that day--fourth in the past
two days--that ventured into the bedroom to wake them.

"Nick?  Nat?  You two awake?"

"Yeah, Skank, quite awake," Nick said, rolling back and locking his gaze
with his partner's across the dark room.  Not that the other man could
see him glaring.  "And the 'something on the roof' is called *rain*."

"It doesn't sound like rain."

"It's *rain*," he repeated, then shook his head to himself.  "Nat,
I'll...I'll be back in a few," he whispered, kissed her quietly on the
lips, then got out of bed and went over to the door, turned Schanke
around, opened the door, and pushed his overly-vigilant partner out of
the room.

"Are you *sure* it's just rain?" Schanke asked, still whispering.

"Yes," he said, pointing toward the stairs.  "Go.  Now."

Schanke reluctantly headed downstairs, returned to the sofa where he had
been trying to sleep, sat down and put his gun on the coffee table,
safety back on.  "You're not going to, you know...zap me, are you?"

Nick smiled.  "It's tempting, but...no."  To himself he added 'not yet'.
Too many more times and he would.  Heading to the kitchen, he started
running water through the coffee maker and pulled out other items from a
drawer and cupboard.

"What are you doing?"

Nick set a mug on the counter, then held up a tea bag in one hand and a
mesh tea ball in the other.  "I'm making you some tea."

"Tea?  How the hell am I supposed to sleep if--"

"It's one of those commercial herbal night-time teas--no caffeine."  He
ripped open the tea bag and put the dried herbs in the metal tea ball,
and dropped it noisily into the mug.

"Still, tea?  Why not hot chocolate or something?  Decaf?"

"Hot chocolate's gone and all I have is regular; you're lucky the tea
hasn't been tossed.  But that reminds me, I still need to buy something
for my giftee.  Detective Michaels on day-shift.  Natalie's suggestion
was hot chocolate."

"Good idea; Michaels lives off the stuff," Schanke thought half to
himself.  "Wait, I thought you said you weren't doing the gift exchange.
What gives?"

"Natalie put my name in."

"Oh.  Wonder who got your name?  And what they'll get you..."  Schanke
trailed off until he was distracted by more strange sounds coming from
the roof, and then by his partner rapidly coming his way.  "Well, whose
name did I get, anyway?  I got, what--exactly three weeks now to pick
something out, right?"

"Mills.  And no, I didn't switch them."

"Mills..." Schanke considered, trying to think who that was, then it hit
him and he started shaking his head.  "The guy who threatened you?  I'd
rather have Cohen."

Nick grabbed his remote off the table and pointed it at one of the
shutters, which ascended.  Then he hit a button for another one.

"Are you nuts?  Never mind, don't answer that.  Give me that."  Schanke
stood, wrenched the remote out of his partner's hands, and quickly
started the metal blinds back down.  "Okay, fine, you're right.  It *is*
raining..."  He lowered his head in defeat. 

"Just...open them if it'll help you sleep better."  Nick went back to
the kitchen, and noted that the water had started to boil.  He poured
the mug full, cringing slightly at the scent of the now sopping wet
herbs.  Putting the coffee carafe back, he brought the mug over to the
table and set it next to the remote, which was snatched up yet again.
"Schanke--"

"I don't want you melting on me."

"I won't 'melt'.  It's more like spontaneous human combustion."

"Keyword: Spontaneous."

Nick grabbed for the remote again, prying it as gently as he could from
his mortal partner's tight grip.

"Hey, ouch, no, no, no, ow--" Schanke protested, trying to hang on to
it, but it was no use.  In fact, their grappling started one of the
blinds on the way up.  "Nick, that's not fair!" he exclaimed when the
remote slipped fully out of his grip, then he eyed the one open window
that left a block of light not far away.  "Sorry."

Nick put the remote back down on the coffee table, leaving the one
shutter raised.  "It's fine.  Just...don't shove me into it, okay?"

"Don't worry, I won't."  Schanke leaned forward and poked his tea,
curious.  "We probably woke Natalie, huh?"

"Nah, she was already awake," Nick answered with a smile.

Schanke's eyes widened and jaw dropped slightly.  "Oh, gee, you two
weren't--"

"No, we weren't doing anything...other than waiting for you to creep up
the stairs.  Again."  Nick's smile faltered slightly.  "And for the rain
to stop."

"So it's not only me.  Good.  It makes me feel like I'm going absolutely
insane."  Schanke again poked the tea, picked it up and tried to take a
sip from it, but it was scorching and he put it back down.  "Do you
really think they'll go for Natalie and Janette if they're left open?
And what about you?  And the rest of us?"

"If the women are alone and we're not, yeah, I think they will."

"I still don't like it...  Bait.  Even if the primary bait can 'take
care of itself,' as Agent Gale put it.  Not sure that matters.  I know
you guys aren't invincible.  Get a well-placed, well-timed attack, and
it's good-bye, vampire."

Schanke reached forward and tried his tea again.  This time it was
drinkable, and he took a large, hot swig before looking up to find that
his partner's attention had strayed.  "What?  It's these guys' MO.  Take
'em out so the victim can't make a scene, then kill them while they're
'out'."

Nick glanced to the mug in his partner's hands.  "Just drink that and
try to get some sleep, Skank."  He turned to go, then glanced back, "And
don't come up again unless you've shot someone."

Schanke turned back to his tea, muttered, "Yeah, yeah," then glanced
back toward his partner, only to find himself alone.  "If it gets to the
point I should shoot someone, he'll already have the guy knocked out for
me," he mused.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Is it just me or is this place...darker or something?" Schanke asked
later that night, an hour after they'd arrived at the Raven.

Nick continued to scan the areas around both Natalie and Janette.  Even
though he was supposed to be watching only Janette, he repeatedly found
his attention drifting back to Natalie.

"Or, well, not darker, but...more dangerous."

"Should have seen it a couple of weeks ago," Nick whispered back, his
gaze still stuck on Natalie.

"Wrong mark, partner," Schanke whispered back, whacking Nick's arm
slightly, which made him turn toward him.  "Janette, not Natalie or me."

Nick smiled before turning back to watching Janette, at which he noticed
something was different.  She had stiffened ever so slightly and her
eyes were locked on something...or someone.  Following her gaze, Nick
started forward, seeing the man from their photograph in Natalie's
general vicinity, only to find a hand gripping his arm.

"Nick, look."

"I see."

"No, the bar, Nick.  The other guy."

Nick turned and noticed Schanke was right.  There, a couple of
arm-lengths away from Janette, was a man who fit her description of the
one who had bumped into her the previous night.  Now, instinctively, he
started forward again, but Schanke was still holding on to his arm.

"I know, but we gotta wait.  Once *they* move, then *we* move," Schanke
whispered to his partner.  He glanced to where Tracy--who had once again
volunteered and spared Reilly from coming into the club--and Cassandra
stood.  They had also noticed the change.  "Just remember, leave...well,
the female contingent to deal with the other one.  Oh, that's weird,
isn't it?"

"Not really," Nick muttered back, his attention remaining on Janette.

Over the next five minutes, little changed beyond the two attackers
moving a bit closer to their chosen victims and Nick becoming
increasingly anxious.

"What's he doing out here?" Schanke abruptly asked, his attention locked
on someone between Natalie in the far corner and Janette at the bar.

Nick looked, and found LaCroix stepping partly into view, rapt with
anticipation.  "He's here to watch," he whispered, and he watched his
sire grin his approval and glance their way for a second.

"Watch what?  This ain't the French Revolution, you know.  We aren't
going to behead anyone."  Schanke glanced at his partner, who was tense
and again intently watching Janette.  "Which, by the way--"

Nick pulled away the hand holding him into place, which effectively
silenced his partner's question, whatever it was.  The vampire with
long-ish hair seemed to be making his move, and he was done waiting.

In an instant, chaos reigned, but very few of the patrons noticed
anything had happened until Natalie slammed her would-be attacker into
the wall behind her, one hand on the man's neck and the other pinning a
hand holding a syringe to the wall.

Nick didn't even notice; unlike the mortal going for Natalie, the man
going for Janette was a vampire.  Before he had crossed even half the
distance, the man had injected his syringe into Janette's upper arm
right as she grabbed him.  Instantly she was out of it, and the man
caught her forearms to steady her when she started to collapse.

Nick flew forward and seized the man from behind, only to be hit hard in
his chest, startling him for a moment.  He could see Janette being
released, slumping unconscious to the ground, and his anger flared,
imagining that Natalie had also fallen...or worse.  When the man took
another swing at him, he grabbed the vampire's arm and spun him around,
dragging him closer and back to him.

After a moment, barely a second of hesitation, Nick reached around the
vampire's neck and snapped his neck with a quick motion to disable him.
Letting his victim fall to the ground, he felt a rush like he had when
he had killed two weeks before.  He closed his eyes, slightly stunned,
trying to rein in his emotions.

"NICK!  Behind you!" Schanke called, seeing another man start forward
from behind his partner.  At the same time, a few of the club's patrons
started to realise something was going down and headed for the exit, and
for a second, he couldn't see anything.

Hearing his name, Nick closed his eyes tighter, concentrating on his
surroundings, listening.  Then he spun, stopping a hand in mid-action as
another vampire tried stabbing him with a syringe.  Without a thought,
he took the needle from the other man and stabbed it into the vampire's
chest, injecting the contents.  Much like when Janette had been taken
out, the man's expression immediately blanked and he slowly crumpled,
first to his knees and then more fully to the ground.

Now the Raven started to empty much faster, and this time Nick didn't
close his eyes.  Instead he turned, scanning for yet another assailant,
but no one was there.  His gaze next turned toward where Natalie had
been.  There, against the wall, he could see Tracy handcuffing the
mortal who had been aiming for her.  But closer to him, he found Natalie
walking toward him, or actually walking toward Janette, who was
unconscious.

"Knight, you all right?" Schanke asked, approaching, his gun barely
drawn.  Not even a minute had passed since his partner had gone tearing
away from him, while he and everyone else in the club had barely seen
what happened.  Schanke was one of the few who had seen most of what
Nick had done, and how easily he had done it...and he didn't know
whether to be concerned or alarmed.  "Nick?"

Still slightly dazed, Nick stared down on the three vampires lying on
the ground.  While he wanted to make sure Janette was all right, Natalie
was already there.  And, since at least the one vampire would possibly
wake up very soon, he forced himself into action, silently pulling out
his handcuffs and cuffing the man whose neck he had broken.

"Nick?" Schanke repeated, his attention still torn between the two
unconscious vampires--at least one who was temporarily dead--and his
partner.

"Give me your cuffs," he said, finally looking over at his partner.

Schanke hesitated, but pulled out a pair of the special cuffs he, Nick,
and the others had been given but only ever used the one time, then
handed them over.  He didn't immediately let go when his partner tried
to take them.  "I can do that if you want."

"No."  When his partner still didn't release his hold on the cuffs, he
told Schanke, "It's better if I do it, in case he wakes up."  Finally
his partner released them, and he pulled the vampire's hands behind his
back and fastened the cuffs rather tight.

"So, er, they recruited another vampire, I'm assuming?" Schanke asked,
but still his partner wasn't really responding.  He stepped closer and
leaned closer, "Nick, are you all right?  For a second I thought you
were going to...take my mention of beheading and...you killed him,
and--"

"It's okay, Skank.  I'm sure they'll both be fine," he answered, his
attention still torn between the two now handcuffed vampires and
Janette.

"My, my, Nicholas.  That was quite...stimulating," LaCroix breathed from
behind the bar, his gaze pointed down at his son's two victims.  "Most
excellent entertainment, I must say."

"Show's over.  Go back into your hole," Nick told him, not looking up.
The comment at least decided his focus--Janette and Natalie--and he
moved closer to the two.  Janette was lying on the floor, Natalie
kneeling over her, not able to do much.  "Nat?"

"Sorry, but I have no idea how long it'll take for this to wear off,"
she said and stood.  "And no idea how I did what I did, for that
matter."

Nick glanced away from Natalie and to Janette's still form.  "I didn't
see."

"I know."  She took a step closer, then gripped his arm and pulled him
next to her.  "But I did see most of what you did."

Nick glanced quickly back, then over at Tracy and Agent Gale.  "Did they
say anything?"

"Well, I think Tracy was a bit freaked out by it."

"And--"

"And Agent Gale is on her way over," she whispered, then again knelt by
Janette.

Nick again glanced over at the others, and found Agent Gale had left the
mortal with her partner and Tracy.

"Detective?" Gale asked, approaching, her eyes darting to the two
handcuffed vampires on the floor.  "I hope for your sake both of them
are vampires."

"They are," he affirmed.  "They both need to be searched--I'm sure they
have more than the syringe on them--but do it carefully."  Turning once
again toward Janette, he asked the agent, "Does Natalie need to be
here?"

"She'll need to be debriefed at some point, as will you."

"Then it can wait until later."  He moved forward, knelt, then carefully
pulled Janette up, first into a sitting position, and then he lifted her
securely in his arms.  "Nat, the apartment."

Natalie nodded, glanced at Agent Gale, then started to the door to the
apartment.

"Detective Knight, I'll need you to come back down right--"

"Of course," he told her, cutting her off with a glare before he turned
and left to take Janette upstairs.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (082/111)

"Can't Knight administer the...nighty-night stuff?" Schanke asked,
staring down at the two unconscious vampires.

"He could," Agent Gale confirmed, "But we want to wait.  For one, we're
not sure how our sedative and their sedative work when mixed."

"Not sure it'd matter.  Unless it'd turn into garlic or something.  Then
it'd matter," Schanke said, turning his head slightly to examine the man
with the long-ish hair, the one whose neck Nick had broken.  "Hey, Nick,
is he healed already and just pretending?"

Nick moved forward slightly and examined the man, but he didn't see
anything to indicate that the other vampire was awake.  "Has he moved
any at all?"

"No," Schanke answered.  "Not a twitch."

"Then he's probably not awake yet."

"Yet," Agent Gale repeated, a hint of fear audible in the word.  After a
moment, she nodded more to herself than the others, and pulled out a
couple of syringes and a vial.  "Knight, since Dr. Lambert is not
back...go ahead."

Nick turned and stared at the proffered items.  Hesitantly he took them,
but did nothing more than glance at the vial.  It wasn't a drug he
recognised; not that he expected to, but it made him uncertain.  "Why
the sedative?" he asked.  "I'm assuming it's a sedative of some sort and
not--"

"Yes, it is.  It'll only be until they're moved."

"Where are you taking them?  A standard cell won't hold a vampire very
long."

"The cell isn't the problem; it's getting them there that is a bit
trickier...especially if they wake.  We'll have to keep them sedated
until they can be transferred to a more secure location."

Nick didn't much like the sound of that, and yet it would probably be
better for them to remain unconscious than be in and out and possibly be
injured in the process.  Or injure someone else, which he knew was the
real issue.  He turned his attention back to the vial.

"Two cc's to each of them."

Nick shook his head.  "No.  We'll wait for Natalie."

"Detective--"

"We will wait for Natalie," he repeated, his tone a bit harsher, his
eyes not leaving the two on the floor.

"Someone say my name?" Natalie asked, coming out the door to the
apartment.

"Doctor, could you assure Detective Knight that the sedative he has will
not harm them?"

Natalie paused before approaching Nick and reading the label on the vial
he was holding.  "How much?"

"Two cc's," he replied.  "How is Janette?"

"Still out, but I think she might wake up soon."  She closed her eyes a
moment, then told him, "It's a high dose, but it should be fine."

"Dr. Lambert, would you mind?" Agent Gale asked, nodding to the two
unconscious vampires.  "For now I think it would be best if they
remained unconscious."

She hesitated a moment, then took the vial and syringes from Nick.

"Nat, be careful," he whispered while she started to prepare one of the
doses.  He watched her ask Agent Gale for some alcohol swabs, which she
insisted on using, then knelt to give each of them the prescribed
amount.

"Now, you are both," Agent Gale started once Natalie had finished her
task, her eyes glancing between Nick and Natalie, "going to need to be
questioned on what happened and what you did."

"As will you."

"As will all of us," Agent Gale repeated.  "Reilly will do that once
we're back at the precinct."

"Will that include Janette?" Nick asked.

"Yes, along with anyone else who saw what happened."

"LaCroix saw the whole thing," Schanke answered, turning toward the
vampire, who was now sitting at the bar pouring a glass of blood,
pointedly ignoring them.  "He came out just before it all went down.
Looked for all the world like he should have had a big bowl of popcorn.
Definitely enjoyed the show.  And I think that's all it was to
him--entertainment."

Nick smiled slightly to himself at that, wondering if it would actually
be Reilly who would end up questioning him.  He honestly doubted the
agent had the nerve.

Suddenly the door to the apartment opened and Janette swayed through the
opening, still groggy, one hand gripping the door, then she slowly
started to fall.

"Nicolas..."

He hurried over and caught her as she started to slump down the wall.
"Janette?"

"Merde.  This is so...strange," she mumbled, trying to think, but still
feeling sluggish.  "I haven't felt like this since..."  She trailed off
again, realising how she felt.  "Nicolas, I feel...is this...what it
feels like...to be drunk?" she asked, her face contorting with
confusion.

Nick again lifted her in his arms, and prepared to take her back
upstairs.

"No, Nicolas, put me--" and she shoved at his chest, eventually getting
him to put her back down.  She tried pulling out of his hold, but she
stumbled and eventually relented to him remaining there, steadying her.
"What happened?  Where's--" she turned and saw the two unconscious
vampires handcuffed on the floor.  She smiled for a second before
realising, "Wasn't one a mortal?"

"There was a third," he told her.

"And I assume that one was mortal.  Where is he?"

"Sitting in a squad car outside," Agent Gale answered, approaching.

Janette pulled back and glanced over at Natalie.  When she seemed fine,
Janette tried to again pull away and go to the bar, which she reached
over and took LaCroix' as-yet-untouched glass from him and drank deeply
from it.  Closing her eyes, she smiled slightly; already she felt
slightly better.

"You two will both need to come down to the precinct later," Agent Gale
said, primarily to Janette.

"When?" she asked after she took another drink from her glass.  "Not too
soon, I hope."

"Before dawn, if possible.  If not, my partner and I can come here."

Janette nodded, then listened to the agent continue to issue
instructions and suggestions to the others.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"So, Nick, what'd Cohen want?" Schanke whispered once his partner had
returned to his desk, near time to go home.

"To know how dangerous having two sedated vampires in lock-up is."

"And?  What'd you tell her?"

"To make sure they stay sedated.  And to make sure someone keeps them
out of any patches of sunlight."

"And what else?  You were in there a lot longer than--"

"Agent Gale gave her an...overview...of what went down at the Raven.
She wasn't pleased with my method of taking the two vampires out,
especially the first one."

"You in trouble for it?  I mean, you did kinda 'kill' the guy," Schanke
said and looked down at the top of his desk.  "Even if it is temporary,
and even if he did kinda deserve it, still...  I mean, I've seen you
kinda overdo it a bit, but for a second, I thought you might rip that
guy's head off.  And then you whirled around and God only knows how you
stopped the other one from taking you out."

"Instinct," he muttered.  "And no, I'm not going to be cited or
anything, although Cohen made it clear that she didn't approve."

"But they would have gotten away if you hadn't, right?"

"Probably, and apparently Agent Gale told Cohen that as well.  Cohen
advised me to avoid a repeat, if possible.  I told her I couldn't
promise anything...especially if we keep getting cases involving
vampires.  She doesn't like it, but I think she understands.  She also
asked about Natalie."

"What about Natalie?"

"Her attacker ended up with two broken bones in his wrist."

Schanke looked up, wide-eyed.  "Is Nat in trouble?"

Nick shook his head.  "I don't know.  I think she's still talking with
Agent Reilly."

"Who's still talking with Agent Reilly?" Natalie asked from behind Nick.

He turned and told her, "You, I thought."

"Not any more--I'm done."  She leaned against the edge of Nick's desk.
"Oh, and Janette is much, much better, although she still has what can
only be described as a hangover...a feeling I don't think she's too fond
of.  And Reilly said you had ID's?"

Schanke nodded.  "Yeah, on the two vampires.  One appears to be from New
York City, where all this started.  The other we think might be a
Toronto native, judging by his ID.  We're thinking maybe a new recruit
of some sort."

"But he's not on our list," Nick added.  "We think the vampire from New
York and their mortal accomplice are both using forged ID's.  Since we
think they used the same forger, maybe they're both from that area.
Agent Gale has contacted their New York office, hoping they can get a
hit on the mortal's fingerprints, maybe come up with some real
information on him."

"Yeah, but--that guy from Toronto--his ID looks real--and the picture
actually looks like him.  Not to say it's not forged somehow.  How does
that work, anyway?  No birth certificate, no government ID number--you
do pay taxes, don't you?"

"Yes, Schanke, I definitely pay taxes."  Nick smiled.  "Lots of taxes.
Although, yes, all of my papers are--"

"Pulled out of thin air?"

"A...bit," he admitted.  "But my point is that ID'ing them might be a
bit more difficult.  And who knows if," he picked up a photocopy of a
driver's license, "Stewart Moss is even--"

"Yeah, right, Mr. Dark-Side-of-a-Tree is his real name.  Granted, not
too many twenty-somethings named 'Stewart', but...wanna bet Moss is made
up?" Schanke asked, hoping for a response, but all he got was raised
eyebrows.  "No?  Figured as much.  What about you, Natalie?"

"Ah, no thanks, Schanke," she told him, glancing back over her shoulder.
"And, Nick, I've got to go back to the morgue."

"Should she, Knight?  What if our Mr. Moss wasn't their only recruit?"

Natalie slightly rolled her eyes.  "I'll be fine, Schanke.  The door
*does* lock."

"Yeah, but if the door locks, then why was Nick--"

"Locks aren't much help when it comes to vampires, Schanke," Nick said.
"We can force most locks.  If there's another recruit, they're likely
mortal, so the lock should be adequate."

"But what if they--I don't know--shoot you?"

Natalie tensed at that, but told him in a whisper, "Skank, if they use
regular bullets, which they probably will, I don't think it's me who
needs to worry.  Gale and Reilly don't think there's a fourth, though,
so I shouldn't have any reason to worry at all."

"Don't suppose we know yet if the one guy is susceptible to your kind of
questioning?" Schanke asked, curious.

"I think they're going to test him with that disc when he gets back from
the hospital," Nick told him.

"Well, I'm staying at your place until we know for sure," Schanke
stated.  Then, sensing his partner's slight annoyance, he asked, "As
long as that's okay?  I mean, another day, maybe two?  Besides, I've
already got all that food in your fridge, and I can drink up more of
that tea, you know..."

Nick smiled again, shaking his head slightly.  "No problem, Skank.  And
you be careful, too, Nat--at least until we know for sure."

"Oh, I will," Natalie agreed, then pushed off from the edge of Nick's
desk.  She had a patient waiting and wanted to be done long before dawn
if she could manage it.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (083/111)

Near dawn the following night, Nick found himself back at the precinct,
even though all three of them--Schanke, Natalie, and himself--had been
told to stay home that night.  He didn't particularly mind, since
Janette had requested Natalie, and Natalie alone, to visit with her that
night.

Schanke had gone back home to his family the previous morning, soon
after the mortal had been brought back to the precinct and proved to be
susceptible to vampire hypnosis.  While Nick disliked being used for his
abilities, he had agreed to 'persuade' the man to answer some questions,
which included asking if there were any others involved.  There weren't
any, and the man had named both of his accomplices.

Strangely enough, it was the vampire who was more or less in charge.
The two FBI agents had been rather surprised by that.  Nick himself
wasn't overly surprised--manipulation seemed to be a speciality, and
indeed a favourite pastime, of some vampires.  And by his direct
involvement, this vampire either wasn't very good at it or expected to
be caught eventually.  Perhaps he even hoped to become a martyr of some
sort.

Of course the two vampires had remained sedated into unconsciousness
that morning when he had left, and he assumed they would stay that way
for the rest of the day.  Agent Gale had vaguely mentioned they would be
relocated that evening.

The precinct was relatively quiet for a Saturday morning, and Nick
passed his desk and went to Cohen's office, knocking on the open door to
announce his arrival.

"Close the door and have a seat, Detective."

Nick did so somewhat hesitantly.  He had half expected one of the FBI
agents to be there, wanting to talk to him.  He could only think of one
other reason he might have been called in--that someone higher up wasn't
thrilled with his method of taking out the two vampires at the Raven.

"No, Nick, you're not in trouble for anything."

"What do Agent Gale and her partner want?"

"This has nothing to do with them or what happened at the Raven.  I
asked you here for another reason entirely."  Cohen leaned back in her
chair and examined her detective, wondering how he would react, then
stated, "I am planning to be gone for a week, and I'd like you to be my
replacement during that time."

After taking a long moment to recover from his shock, he shook his head.
"Captain--"

"You don't have to accept, but you're my choice."

"But...why me?"

"Because I don't want to give anyone ideas that they might be getting
promoted, and because I think you can handle it."

Again Nick shook his head, but more slowly.  "I can't, Captain."

"Because of McIntyre?  If so, that's another reason I picked you.  He
needs to realise that banning you from the precinct is foolish.  Through
forcing him to communicate with you for a week, I'm hoping he'll get
over whatever issues he has with you."  Cohen paused, then when he
didn't comment or even look at her, she asked, "It's not an order and
I'd rather it not have to be."

"What about Schanke?"

"Your partner will work with Detective Vetter for the duration."

"Will he be reassigned to days when Briggs leaves?"

Cohen hesitated before answering, "It's not definite, but he'll probably
at least be given the option."  Then she paused before cautiously
asking, "If he was, would you resign or otherwise leave?"

Now it was Nick's turn to be unsure, and he honestly answered, "I don't
know."

"It may be something to think about; I do hope you'll stay if he is
reassigned or takes a reassignment.  Again, it's nothing definite, so
don't overreact or react before things have time to settle."

For a long moment he didn't respond.  He wanted to leave.  He wanted...
"When will you be gone?"

"For a week, starting in about a week.  Think about it."

"But I don't really have a choice, right?"

"Not really.  If you can think up a reason that has nothing to do with
you being a vampire or day-shift's grudge against you--"

"I don't have the experience," he immediately answered.

"I'm sorry, Knight, but that's up for debate.  You're my choice and I'm
sure you'll do a more than adequate job.  Also, the experience would
definitely be good for both you and your file."  Cohen gave him a
cautious smile, then reminded him, "It's only a week, and, no, it is not
part of some bigger plan to reassign you...or Schanke.  Keep in mind
that Briggs is transferring, and his partner has only been a
detective--"

"I know, Captain.  Have you told Schanke yet?"

"I'll inform him first thing tonight.  But, again, nothing is finalised.
This is only a heads-up."

"Then is that all?"

Cohen hesitated, but nodded.  "Yes."

Nick stood and started for the door, but paused halfway there and
turned.  "If you're not telling Schanke until tonight, why did you tell
me now?"

She gave him the merest ghost of a smile before explaining, "To give you
an extra twelve hours to think up some excuse to get out of it, if you
want.  Also, Agent Gale does want to speak with you."

"Where is she?"

"Conference room."

Nick left, his mood even worse than a mere minute ago.  He had somewhat
figured the agents would have left by now, but apparently they hadn't.
He headed back to the conference room to find the door already open.  He
knocked lightly on it, causing the two to turn.

"Oh, good."

"Cohen said you wished to talk to me?"

"Yes.  Just a moment.  Reilly?" Agent Gale said, turning to her partner.
"Take what you can out to the rental and wait for me.  I'll get the
rest.  This won't take long."  She walked over to the door and waited,
while her partner shuffled out the door with a box of files and a
briefcase, then shut the door after him.

"Why don't you want your partner to overhear?" Nick asked, suddenly
wary.

"It's nothing really, merely a question of personal curiosity, that's
all."

"What question?"

"Why you choose to be a cop.  It's obviously not for power.  Duty?  Your
way of doing good, perhaps?"  When he didn't comment, she prodded, "And
you are a good person, even if I get the impression you don't think you
are.  Did you choose to be a cop as a way to make up for the things
you've done?"

"I've had other jobs, as you know."  Nick refused to admit she was at
least partially correct.

"But why a cop?  And a detective at that.  A homicide detective."  She
waited a moment, and when he didn't answer, she smiled.  "No answer?"

"Sorry, no answer.  Is that all?"

"I thought I would also tell you that we'll be keeping tabs on you, both
you and your friend, Dr. Lambert, and we will continue to do so even if
you move or change jobs."

Nick had to keep himself from laughing at that.  "I'm sure you will.
Anything else?"

"How many languages do you speak, Detective?  How many do you read?  Do
you even know yourself?"

Nick simply stared at her, at her seemingly random question.  No, he
didn't know how many languages he could either speak or read.

"I've asked endless questions and otherwise dug up quite a bit of
information about you.  It's amazing how much is told offhand that can
be pieced together.  You are quite a curiosity."

"What's your interest?" he demanded, eyeing her.

"Both personal and professional."  The agent continued to smile.  "I,
personally, think vampires are interesting--a bit more complex than us,
more to unravel, from what I can tell."

"And professionally?"

"My superiors see how a vampire could be advantageous in our line of
work."

"And now they want to recruit vampires into your organisation, right?"

"They are...considering it.  If they do, it would likely be--"

"May I leave?" he asked abruptly, cutting her off and glancing to the
door.  She wanted more information on him and it was quite clear who
they would want--Natalie, him, or others like them.  Those that had
already proved themselves in the field.

"Of course.  I hope we meet again sometime."  With that, she pulled the
door open and held it for him, still smiling.

Nick slipped out without replying.  He himself didn't much want to meet
her again.  Right now all he wanted was to be out of the precinct and
away from everyone.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"It's nearly dawn, Nicolas!" Janette snapped somewhat angrily and
started toward Nick, who was getting out of the elevator.

Nick's level of annoyance rose.  True, he had stayed out late.  After
leaving the precinct, he had wanted to burn off some of his anger, but
now...it was all for nothing.  "Why haven't you left for Montreal yet?"
he asked, walking past Janette and taking off his coat.  "And why are
you still here and not at the Raven?"  He turned and looked at Natalie,
who was sitting on the sofa, where he suspected Janette had been until
he had arrived.  "Nat?"

All Natalie managed was a wince.  Janette had become more and more
impatient over the past fifteen or so minutes as dawn ever more closely
approached; she had waited only because she had wanted to talk to Nick.

"You are being careless!" Janette almost yelled, following him until he
abruptly spun on her, at which she pulled back.

"Just because it's nearly dawn doesn't mean I'm careless.  I didn't
expect you to be here waiting for me in the first place.  Shouldn't you
already be on your way?  As you said, it's nearly dawn."  Talking to
Janette was the last thing he wanted to do right now and, without
waiting for an answer, he turned back around, flew up to the upper
level, entered the bedroom, and shut the door.

Janette stiffened, watching him leave.

"Come back tonight if you still want to talk to him," Natalie told the
other woman.  "Assuming there's enough time for you to get to the Raven.
If there isn't--"

"You will speak to him about what we discussed?" she sharply answered,
turning toward Natalie.

"Yes.  You have my word."

"Then I will leave."  She forced herself to smile.  "I will be fine,
Natalie."

Nodding, Natalie watched Janette leave by the stairs, then she looked up
at the closed door behind which Nick had vanished.  Something was wrong,
and she didn't bother with the long way around and instead flew as Nick
had.  She opened the door without knocking and found him half lying on
the bed.  It seemed he had come in, sat down, and simply let himself
fall back.  "Nick?"

He turned his head toward Natalie, then turned back up at the ceiling.
"I'm sorry.  I honestly didn't expect Janette to be here."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, sitting on the bed near him, then
leaning on her side so that she wasn't hovering over him.

"It's just...Cohen's going to be gone for a week.  And she wants me to
be her replacement while she's gone."

"And you don't want to do it," she guessed.  "Why not?  Because you're
not sure how everyone will react, or because you really don't want to do
it?"

"Bit of both, I guess."  He closed his eyes, then explained, "And she
admitted that it's possible Schanke might be reassigned to days.  She
even asked me if I might quit if that happened, and...I don't know."

"Hmm, you've gotten used to him, haven't you?"  She watched a slight
smile appear, and shoved his arm slightly.  "And just remember how you
two started out.  You absolutely didn't want a thing to do with one
another.  But don't worry.  I'm sure you'll do fine with someone else if
you have to."

He rolled his head side to side, his eyes still closed.

"Nick..."

"I'm not used to this, Nat.  Big changes like this without...moving,
without having some choice in it, I guess."  He sighed, then added, "And
it's more than that this time.  For the first time, I'm in a position
where others will make more of the decisions that might impact my life,
and I'll have to make my own choices *after* they make theirs.  And if I
don't like what they want for me, I can't really leave and start over
somewhere else."

Natalie considered that, and she reached up to his face and brushed the
hair back from right in front of and above his ear, hoping he would look
at her.  Instead, he turned away and she could almost see him struggling
with his thoughts.  "Are you saying you might consider resigning if you
get a new partner?"

"I don't know.  Maybe.  It's strange knowing I won't have to leave
because of suspicion about my age or others noticing I'm different.  But
then...how is this supposed to work?  How long do I stay in a job?  It's
like...new rules all around.  But those rules don't exist yet."

"Well, just think, you can do whatever you want in that regard.  It's
not exactly that there are new rules, it's more like...there are no
rules, right?" she asked, but he didn't react or comment.  He was
thinking again.  "Nick, are you...happy here?"

"How can I be?"  Finally he turned to look at Natalie, at which he saw
how much his thoughtless response hurt her.  "I mean...I'm not sure I'll
ever be truly, completely happy, not now that the whole world knows who
and what I am."  He rolled onto his side and reached out to her, cupping
his hand along the side of her neck.  "But I am happier than I've been
in a long time."

"If you do want to leave, to move, simply say so.  I'll quit and--"
Then she stopped, worry creeping into her thoughts.  They hadn't really
talked about this much, and she could see concern in his features as
well.  "Assuming you'd want me to come with you?"

"Of course I'd want you to," he quickly answered.  Then, more
tentatively, he asked, "I mean, assuming you would want to put up with
me?"

"Hmm, if you have to ask...maybe we need to have a little talk," she
said, somewhat teasingly.

"Talk about...?"

"Us."  She smiled more widely at this, then let her gaze drift downward.
"Janette asked me an awful lot of questions tonight, and not only about
me.  She also told me quite a bit about you."

Nick stiffened and pulled his hand back.

She chuckled and explained, "Nothing to worry about, although...you
never did tell me you two were actually married, or for how long."  She
paused, then her smile faltered before she continued, "Or that she left
you."  She could tell that Nick was really closing off, either lost in
thought or worried about what she would say next.  "Are you afraid I'll
leave you?  Or that I'll blame you like you blame Janette for becoming a
vampire--and don't try to tell me you don't blame her.  I know you do,
or at least you did at some point."

Nick couldn't answer, and he again closed his eyes and bowed his head.
He was indeed afraid she would do exactly that.  He also had to admit he
did at least partially blame Janette for what he was...not to mention
that she had led LaCroix to him on several occasions when he had tried
to leave.  And Natalie had even more reason to blame him than he did to
blame Janette.

"Nick?"

He glanced up, but wasn't sure what to say.  What could he say that
wouldn't possibly somehow hurt her?  He already had hurt her by dragging
her into his world.

"I want you to remember that this was entirely my choice.  No one talked
me into it, not even you.  And if, at some point, you decide to leave
me--"

"I will never leave you, Nat.  Never."

"--I won't blame you for ruining my life, and if I ever do, then, by all
means, bring up this little chat and remind me that I chose--"

Nick put his fingers to her lips, stopping her.  "I love you, Natalie."

"Hmm, and I think I've loved you since the night I unzipped that body
bag.  And I thought you were dead."

"I was and still--" he had to stop speaking when Natalie kissed him,
then he smiled at her once she pulled back.  "I don't suppose she said
why she left, did she?"

"Ah, she did, actually.  She also vaguely mentioned it a month ago.
And, frankly, I already knew you were a bit...possessive with those you
get close to, with those you care about."  She smiled again and told
him, "Again, Nick, if you want to leave, all you have to do is tell me
where we're going and when, okay?"

He slowly nodded, thinking aloud more than actually replying.  "Well,
whenever I...or I guess *we* ever leave here...  I'm getting about three
job offers a week, I think; some are repeats, but...  And it sounds as
though the FBI might be considering hiring vampires.  Agent Gale
apparently asked a lot of questions--about both of us.  Not sure I'd
want to work with her, though...but that's another reason I'm a bit..."

"Interested in moving?"

"No, I think I want to stay here in Toronto, at least for a while.  But
it's nice to know we have options if we want to do something else,
somewhere else."

"So is that all of what's been worrying you lately?  Or is there
something else still bothering you?"

Nick shrugged and replied, "I wouldn't say it's bothering me, but maybe
I am still a bit...distracted."

"Distracted by..."

"A lot of things.  For one, I still really want to tell Schanke about
what I did, what *we* did, but with all of this...I'm not sure when I
should mention it, especially if I'm going to be subbing for Cohen for a
week.  On the other hand, I really don't want him to find out after
he's, say, been offered or reassigned to days and then either decided or
find some way of staying my partner...and then hate me and request
reassignment.  And top it off with coming back here and seeing
Janette...like I said, I really didn't expect her to be here.  Or really
most of the rest...maybe the possibility of getting a new partner,
but...  It's just too much at once, I think.  I'm still processing it
all."

"It's all right, Nick."  She paused and watched his smile vanish again
when he relaxed and undoubtedly became lost in thought once again.  "But
please don't blame Janette for not telling you about taking over the
club in Montreal.  She told LaCroix to tell you.  She's rather upset
with him about it...and upset that you've been avoiding her on her
little visit, and if that second is because of me...I might not fully
like it, but we are all family now."

"I'm sorry, Nat."

"For what?" she asked, raising her eyebrows, waiting, but he didn't
answer.  "Don't be sorry.  We're getting along a lot better than I
thought we would."  She smiled at him.  "I'll admit it's a bit strange
to have the equivalent of a protective big sister and ex-wife all in
one, though..."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (084/111)

That following night Nick intentionally arrived a few minutes late to
work, hoping that Cohen would talk to Schanke right at the start of his
shift--and she did.  Not even five minutes later, Nick watched his
partner leave her office and approach their desks, clearly a bit stunned
by something.

"Hey, Nick?" Schanke whispered across the desks once he sat down.
"Cohen--"

"I know, Skank.  She told me this morning," Nick answered, still staring
at the top of his desk.  Glancing up slightly, he asked, "If they offer
you day shift again, would you take it?"

Schanke didn't know what to say at first, but after a moment, he shook
his head.  "Uh.  I don't know.  Hadn't really thought about it.  I mean,
days *would* be nice..." he pondered, pausing.  "But I guess the bottom
line is would Myra rather have me working days or have the real-life
equivalent of Superman as my partner?  You know, she's still a bit
creeped out by the idea of *real* vampires--"

"And especially with me being one."

"Yeah, kinda, but...well, she came 'round after I explained the plus
side, that you'll take the bullets so I don't have to.  She loves the
idea of you protecting her Donnie-boy.  So it'll be interesting to see
what she thinks...which, well, sorry partner, but if Myra really wants
me to take days, I'll do it.  If so, maybe we could do that day/night
thing we did at first?  Think Cohen would go for it?"

Nick didn't answer the question.  He had a feeling Cohen would not 'go
for it', and instead he asked, "Did she say anything about her
replacement for while she's gone?"

"No."  After a moment of thought, he asked, "Wait, what replacement?
When's she gonna be gone?  And who is it?  Do you know?"

"Week after this."  Nick glanced back at his desk again.  "And she's
sticking me with the job."

"You?" Schanke asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, I'm who she wants.  Unless I can think of a way out of it."

"Why would you want a way out of it?  Acting Captain...  You know, most
other detectives would absolutely jump at a chance like that."  His tone
changed abruptly from excited to reserved as he commented,
"Although...that does explain both how and when she's sticking me with
Vetter.  Wonder if that's how I got that vacation time...  Maybe she
wants to see who Vetter works with better..."

"Or who I work with better," Nick added.

"Which, by the way...how was she as a partner?  I never got to ask.  Is
that gonna be torture?  I mean, she's--"

"Fine--she's not much different than other new detectives--but don't try
leaving her behind without a really good explanation."

"Why?"

"She'll follow you.  Anywhere."

"Where'd she follow you?  Wait, let me guess--"

"Into the Raven."

"But that's not too bad, though, is it?  Not like you walk in and get
shunted off to be--"  Schanke paused, seeing his partner's expression.
"Wait, she *did*?  And they did?"

"For about two weeks, if you were mortal and you went into the Raven
alone, you would most likely be fed from...whether you wanted it or not.
LaCroix was having a little 'fun'.  And, yes, she was nearly lunch for a
couple of vampires there."

Schanke's eyes widened during the explanation.  "Holy...  I take back
the creep label, he's a sadistic--"

"Schanke..."

"Okay, okay.  But you're still here, so that means either you did your
hypno thing on her, or she didn't--"

"She didn't tell," Nick said, finishing his partner's sentence.

Schanke shook his head in disbelief.  "And you really don't want to have
your own office for a week?  You know, with walls and a door between you
and everyone else?"  Getting another look of exasperation, he asked,
"What does Natalie think?"

"Nat thinks I shouldn't complain; after all, it's only temporary."

"Might as well take advantage of it--if nothing else, it'll look good on
your resume."  Again, Schanke got a look.  "Or bad, but that might take
some work."

Nick closed his eyes.  He had already considered that...Cohen had even
mentioned it.  He supposed he didn't absolutely have to do his best in
the job--but then he worried it might impact his present job.  When it
came down to it, he did want to stay in Toronto.  Although, if his
partner was reassigned to days...he still wasn't sure how he felt about
a new partner.  Pulling himself out of his thoughts again, he stated,
"Cohen even asked if I'd leave if you were reassigned."

"But you told her you wouldn't..."  He saw Nick turn away again.
"Wait--you would?"

"I don't know, Skank..."  He shook his head a moment, then smiled.  "But
I think I would at least try to stay, for a while anyway.  So if they
give you the choice, don't worry about me, okay?  Do whatever is best
for you and your family."

"Okay...I guess I'll keep that in mind, but..."  He trailed off,
watching his partner try to drown himself in work.  Then he saw a
familiar figure approaching.  "Oh, no, it's Janette.  She hasn't left
yet?"

Nick flinched.  He had left the loft pretty much as the sun had set,
determined to avoid a conversation with Janette.  Apparently she was
equally determined not to give up.

"I'll be back, Schanke," he said to his partner.  He turned in his chair
and stood mere moments before she reached him, her expression less
cheery than usual.  He took her arm and guided her back further into the
precinct, pausing outside an observation room to make sure it was empty
before he opened the door and entered.  Once inside, he released her and
shut the door.

"Won't they talk?  Won't they wonder what we are doing in here?" she
asked, once her brother had turned toward her, her tone harsher than
usual.

"No more than they would from you simply walking up to my desk.  Why are
you here?"

"Why are you trying to avoid me?  What have I done?  Hmm?"

Nick closed his eyes and turned away from her.  "It's not you, not
specifically."

"I know that what you did at the Raven bothers you," she stated.  When
he turned and glared at her, she told him, "Both LaCroix and Natalie
told me what they saw, and others who were there have also talked.  I
wish I hadn't been...incapacitated."

"Why, so you could watch the 'show', like LaCroix did?"

"While that might have been...enjoyable, I would rather have assisted
you."  After a short pause, she asked, "What happened to them, anyway?
Did those mortals even tell you?"

Nick knew she was asking about the vampire suspects.  She couldn't care
less about the mortal member of their group.  "They were both kept
sedated and then taken to some prison, I think.  They'll stay there, at
least until they can sort out their involvement."

"So the rumours are true.  They do have a prison for us."

Nick again glanced away.  He didn't want to talk about this, and he
changed the subject, asking, "Why have you been so...nice...to Natalie?"

Janette pulled back a little, offended.  "Why wouldn't I be nice to her?
Do you find it so hard to believe that the two of us might want some
'girl time,' as the mortals these days call it?  I'm sorry, Nicolas,
but...while we are quite different, I do rather like Natalie.  And
before you say it, yes, I also rather like the effect she has had on
you, even if it does mean--"

"But you told her about us."

She now smiled, not bothering to continue her thought.  "Yes, I did.
Quite a bit, actually."

"About us being married," he clarified, a slight undertone of irritation
creeping into his voice.

Her smile vanished.  "What--was I supposed to lie?  To be honest, I
thought she already knew; she certainly suspected, from our
conversation.  And you know she would have eventually found out.  Or
LaCroix would have made some comment to provoke her."  She stiffened and
took in a deep breath.  "It was a long time ago, Nicolas--it's been four
hundred years, and I told her as much."

"What else did you talk about?"

"Oh, various things," she said evasively, her smile starting to return.
"Some of which I don't think she'll tell you about, not...directly.  And
since you brought up the topic of marriage...  I am surprised you
haven't yet asked her."

"How do you know I haven't?  Did you ask--"

"No, I did not ask!" she protested when Nick grabbed her arms.  "And she
did not say one way or another.  However, if you *had*, I'm sure LaCroix
would be in a much fouler mood than he already is.  And I am certain she
would have told her...older sister."  Still smiling, she whispered, "You
will ask her, won't you?  Or did I hurt you too much when I left?"  She
gave him a feigned pout. 

"Janette..."

She shrugged out of his touch and raised a hand to his face, gently
touching his cheek.  "I have watched you two at the Raven.  She makes
you happy, Nicolas, and you her.  It's not merely passion or lust or
want, and it's not one-sided.  It runs deep, and true, and strong.  It's
special, a bond like that--a type of love that can last, possibly for an
eternity.  Or am I wrong?"

Nick brought his hand up to hers, tried to gently push it away, but her
grip tightened.

"Am I wrong, Nicolas?" she again asked and leaned in closer to Nick,
practically pulling his face toward hers.

"No, you're not wrong," he eventually answered, trying not to look at
her, but she was too close.

"I admit I will miss your...visits to satisfy your needs.  Not that you
need or want more temptat--"

Nick pushed her away at the word and took a couple of steps back.

"He's going to tempt you again, Nicolas.  Both of you."  She again
approached him and again gently touched his face.  "If it helps any, I
refused."

"Refused what, exactly?"

"There is a surprisingly large number of mortals who desire to be fed
from.  True, they have always existed, but in the past, they had to find
us and at least tentatively gain our trust.  As for my refusal...you
know me, Nicolas..."  She smiled.  "But he wishes to see if she can feed
without killing."  She dropped her voice to a whisper, "She has only fed
from a mortal the once, oui?"

"Yes."

"When you both--"

"Yes."  He tried to turn away, but she prevented him with her hand.
"Janette--"

"You haven't allowed yourself to kill in some time, and while it is not
affecting you as much as usual...  You will refuse, yes?"  She waited,
but he stared back at her in reply.  "Nicolas?"

He shook his head slightly, as much as he could with her holding his
chin in place.  "I don't know."

"You don't know what you want, or you don't know if you'll be able to
resist, regardless of what you want?"  Again she waited for a response,
and again he simply stared at her.  "Do you still confide your thoughts,
your feelings, in her?"

He weakly nodded.

"Good.  As it should be."  She leaned forward slightly and kissed him
lightly on the lips.  Then she turned and left the room.

Nick followed Janette out of the room and was surprised when she went
back to his desk and waited for him.  "Janette...?" he asked once he had
sat in his chair and swivelled it to face her.

"Come visit me in Montreal sometime," she suggested with a smile.  "And
I do hope you will not make her wait too long."

He stiffened somewhat at Janette's second comment, then watched her turn
and leave the precinct.

"'Make her wait too long' for what, Knight?" Schanke whispered loudly
across their desks.

Nick's mouth tweaked up at the corner and he turned toward his partner.

"I assume the 'her' is Nat, so what does she mean?" Schanke asked, then
he tried to wrack his brain to decipher the rest, since his partner
seemed reluctant to answer the question.  "What would a woman not want
to wait for..." he thought to himself.

"Skank..."

Ignited by his partner's exasperated and almost worried tone, a light
bulb practically went on and Schanke's eyes widened.  "Wait--you're
gonna ask Natalie to--"

"Schanke, please."

The mortal beamed with barely-contained excitement.  "My lips are
zipped.  I won't say a thing, I swear.  I *am* gonna be your best man,
though, right?  I mean, assuming that's, er..."

Nick couldn't help but smile and he looked down at his desk, hoping his
partner hadn't noticed.

"No, no, no, don't go all awkward schoolboy on me now.  Just a yes or a
no...or a yes will do.  It is a yes, right?" he asked expectantly and
waited, but his partner kept avoiding his gaze.  "Come on, Knight.  That
is what Janette was referring to.  I just know it was."

Nick finally nodded in confirmation.  "Yeah, it's that."

"Yes!  Knew it."  Barely a second later, he frowned and added, "And?
What's the problem?  I mean, okay, if you'd asked me before all this, I
would've said 'no way, he'd never' but now I think I know why..."
Getting a glare, he glanced down at his own desk.  "But, I mean, hasn't
that been the plan all along?  After all, everyone knows you two were
made for each other."

He looked away; to be honest, they really hadn't had a plan.  They had
never really talked about it.  They both knew he could have killed
Natalie, but now that she was a vampire...  Although now in some ways,
they were already more or less 'married'.  They were bonded by blood,
LaCroix' blood and each other's, but...perhaps they should make it
official.  Natalie would like that, he suspected; he would, too,
frankly.  They had both fantasised about it.

"Nick?"  When his partner's blank gaze turned to him, he whispered,
"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Well, just let me know if you need any help or whatnot."

"Help?" he asked, puzzled.

"You know, with the whole asking thing or hiding anything...or with the
wedding plans.  You know how Myra lives for this kind of stuff."

Nick smiled and relaxed somewhat at that.  "You can help by pretending
we never had this conversation.  In fact..."

"Oh, no.  Knight, you wouldn't...  Then we'd just have to have this
conversation all over again..."

Nick grinned back.  He would, but if he did it, when and where should he
do it?  Here in the middle of the bull-pen, someone might notice.
Reluctantly he did nothing and grabbed for the papers and letters in his
in-box.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (085/111)

Late the next week, the night before Nick had somehow scored two days
off together before his week as Cohen's replacement, he was startled
when a stack of folders, stapled-together papers, and a softcover book
were set on the corner of his desk.  He glanced up to see who had set
them there--Cohen.

"Copies of case files on anything active, as well as any information you
might want to review again.  Anything new will be on the desk when you
come in Sunday."

"Captain--"

"You'll do fine, Knight."  She smiled ever so slightly.  "Remember to
keep your cell on, but especially when you're not in the office, and if
you have any problems or questions to call--"

"Stonetree," he finished somewhat absently.  They had already gone over
this; she was merely reminding him.

"And, remember, McIntyre might try baiting you."

Nick nearly said he knew, but he was again slightly surprised when she
simply gave him another smile and walked off, going into her office.

"Two smiles," Schanke said from his desk.  "In less than a minute, no
charm required.  Even from you, I think that's a record, and that's when
you're NOT looking like--"  He stopped when Nick glanced up at him.
"You look like crap, Knight.  Really.  Too bad you won't be here
Saturday--I'm sure I'll look worse when I see who's sitting at your
desk."

He abruptly sat up a little straighter at that.  Why hadn't he thought
about that sooner?

"What?"

Nick ignored him and pulled open the drawer he'd been putting his junk
mail in, and added the dozen or so envelopes from the last few days to
the top of what Cohen had given him.  He didn't want Tracy to look at
any of those.

Seeing the letters, Schanke relaxed.  "Oh, you still getting that stuff?
You want me to go through your mail this next week for you?"

He considered, then half nodded.  "Only if you wouldn't mind."

"Nah.  It takes, what--a minute or so?"  Schanke stood, reached over and
pulled one of the letters off the top, then turned it around so that the
back faced his partner.  "See, look; you don't even open 'em.  What do
you do, take 'em home and burn 'em?  Wouldn't blame you."

Nick didn't reply.  He had done exactly that to all but one letter he
had received.  That one letter had been from a name he vaguely
recognised--a security guard at the University of Chicago when he had
been night curator.  He hadn't yet brought himself to open it.

Schanke's attention switched from the letters to the stack of paperwork
Cohen had delivered.  "Don't envy your extra night off.  What is all
that, every single case anyone is working on right now?  Although,
doesn't that mean you and Nat are both off tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, we're both off," he answered somewhat absently, zoning out again,
even as Schanke asked what they were going to do, then started rambling
about Myra.  He had altered Schanke's memory of their earlier
conversation.  His partner no longer even remembered Janette being at
the precinct that night, let alone the rest.

"Nick?"

"What?" he asked, glancing across the desks.  He hadn't heard a thing
his partner said.  Not really.  He had been thinking too much lately.

"I said that I talked to Myra.  She says having a vampire for a partner
trumps days.  I think."

"You think?"

"She more or less told me to do whatever I want.  Which wasn't as
helpful as I thought it might be.  You know how it is when they say
that, I never know if it *really* means do whatever, or if it's some
sort of trap."

When his partner didn't comment, Schanke idly fiddled with a pen,
tapping it his desk, before eventually asking, "Anything I can say to
get you to zap Mills and find out what I should get him?"

Nick shook his head and tried not to smile.  Ever since he had taken
away Schanke's memory of their conversation, Schanke had been asking him
nightly about Mills.  "Ask Natalie," he eventually suggested.

"Already did," Schanke said, defeated.  "She said 'no way'.  Wonder
which one I'll have to decide first.  Don't suppose Cohen's given you
any idea when--"

"The key to the whole thing is that Briggs is transferring.  I think
that'll be around the first of the year, so it wouldn't be before that."

Nick soon found himself slipping into his thoughts again.  He still
hadn't managed to tell Schanke what he had done, that he had
killed--recently.  And now he couldn't do so anytime soon.  Telling
Schanke and then spending a week as his partner's superior?  No, that
wasn't right.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Aww, come on, Nick, it'll be fun," Natalie teased while she and Nick
walked arm in arm along a street near the Raven.

"I don't think vampires and bowling mix, Nat.  Really.  You'll have to
think of some other way to integrate me with the others."  He paused,
smiling, and added softly, almost wistfully, "Besides, they'd probably
think I'd give my team an unfair advantage--which I would."

"Well, you could always go with me sometime, then.  Besides, I'm not
talking about a league, formal or informal, and I agree they'd never let
you join one of those.  This would just be for *fun*.  You, me, maybe
Schanke and--"

"Okay, okay," he relented.  "Maybe.  But don't ever ask LaCroix to go
bowling."

"I don't think you have to worry about that.  The only sport he's into
is--"

"Hunting," he whispered, suddenly serious, and stopped walking.

"Nick?  Do you want to go back home?  Or to the park, or--"

"No.  If he has something planned again...I know you'd like to get it
over with."  He started forward again.  "It's fine."

"It's not 'fine' if you're not okay with it."

"You worry too much about me, Nat."

"I like worrying about you," she said, jabbing him as they approached
the Raven's front entrance.  "Besides, I'm sure he'll let you refuse.
He hasn't pushed you since you talked to him, has he?"

"No, he hasn't," he answered, but that wasn't what he was worried about.

He followed slightly behind Natalie into the Raven.  There were still no
bouncers at the door, but otherwise it seemed like any other club.
Almost.  In the corner Nick could see two vampires engaged in a bit more
than simple kisses and caresses.

He tore his eyes away and scanned the club for LaCroix.  Eventually he
crossed to the radio booth, where his sire was broadcasting.  The moment
LaCroix glanced up at them, he guided Natalie back closer to the bar.

Both of them kept glancing over at the two in the corner, where the
woman had now pushed the man against the wall and was feeding from him.
"He isn't going to expect...that, is he?" Natalie whispered.

He didn't answer.  He hoped not, but he really had no idea what the
elder vampire might have planned.

She glanced over to the radio booth, but LaCroix hadn't left yet.  "How
much longer will he be?  We could always--"

Now it was Nick's turn to jab Natalie, and he pulled her closer, leaning
his head slightly over her shoulder.  It wasn't that he didn't like the
idea, but he wasn't one for displays of public intimacy, not on that
level.  "I'm sure he won't be long."

She smiled and leaned back into him, letting her head rest on his
shoulder.  Just when she had gotten comfortable, out of the corner of
her eye she saw LaCroix approach.  She tensed slightly upon seeing his
grin.

LaCroix kept his focus on his newest child until he had nearly reached
them, then turned to his son.  "Take her to the basement, Nicholas."

Once LaCroix left, Nick looked to Natalie, who nodded, and he did as
instructed, again letting Natalie walk in front of him.  He was faintly
surprised they were alone, but...then perhaps they weren't.  The scent
of blood--some fresh and some dried--assaulted his senses.

"Nick, I smell--"

"Blood.  I know."  He turned away from the rows of bottles and the
stairs, to the far end of the basement.

Natalie meanwhile stepped closer to the bottles, touching the necks of a
few while she waited.  Then they both heard the door above open and
footsteps start down the stairs.

Turning, Nick found a man approaching them, his focus on Natalie.  The
mortal appeared to be in his early thirties and had multiple bite marks
on the inside of his forearms and neck.  Many of the wounds were healed,
but one set on each arm was scabbed over.  He narrowed his eyes at the
man.

Natalie moved back next to Nick and gripped his arm as the mortal smiled
pleasantly at her.  His smile didn't seem to be simply friendly,
although it also didn't appear forced or dazed.

"Meet Jean-Paul," LaCroix said from near the base of the stairs, where
he stood quite still.

Natalie turned her attention to LaCroix, who was again grinning.  She
watched him slowly approach and walk around the mortal, then again focus
in on her.

"As you can see, he's quite a favourite."

She focused on the man's scars, even as LaCroix approached her and
walked between where she and Nick stood and the man.

Crossing to his daughter's other side, LaCroix whispered in her ear, "Go
ahead.  Have a taste."

She turned her head vaguely toward him, but didn't look up.  "What if I
can't stop?  What if I kill him?"

"Then he dies," he breathed back in answer.  "All those like him
eventually die.  Now or later matters little."  He moved, walked behind
his children, and waited.

Natalie closed her eyes and turned back to Nick.  She still held onto
his arm and was reluctant to let go.  She didn't particularly want to do
this, yet she did want to know what might happen if she ever bit
someone.  Would she be able to stop?  And if she could, how would she
feel?  And if she couldn't, what then?

"Nat, if you don't want--"

She abruptly released his arm, then looked up at Nick.  It thankfully
stopped his question, although for a second he took her hand and
squeezed it, the simple action more reassuring than he probably knew.

"That's a good girl," LaCroix whispered.  "Now take him."

Letting Nick's hand fall away, she crossed the short distance to the
smiling man, wishing he would stop.  He grinned down at her as she
stepped up right in front of him, planning to feed from him as she had
from the woman.  It was more difficult to take him so casually, and she
put a hand on his shoulder, let herself focus on his blood, and changed.
She paused a moment, then slowly started forward, only to suddenly feel
him kiss her on the neck.  In an instant her other hand went to his
throat and she pushed him against and up the wall so that the toes of
his shoes just barely touched the ground.

LaCroix chuckled, even as he grabbed his son by the arms, keeping him
from moving forward.  "She didn't like that, did she, Jean-Paul?"  He
laughed again, more uncontrolled, nearly giggling for a moment before he
abruptly went silent.  "Now, put him down, Natalie."

She was reluctant to do as LaCroix suggested, and for a moment she
merely glared up at the man, angry at what he had done.  Had he expected
her to allow such behaviour?

Nick tried to shrug out of his sire's grip, but he wouldn't release him.
"Nat?" he called, hoping to get her attention before she killed him out
of anger.

At the sound of Nick calling her name, she lowered the mortal, but she
didn't lower her hand from under his chin.  She wouldn't allow him to
kiss her neck again.  She paused a moment, then bit into his neck in
anger, pushing him into the wall at the same time.  This time was
different than when she had killed the woman.  That time her victim had
welcomed death, but this man...while he enjoyed the sensation, he wanted
to live.  She had no wish to stop drinking his vibrant life-force, and
she drank until he went limp, at which she pulled back, horrified.
Releasing him, he slumped to the floor, but after a moment, she realised
he was still alive.  His heart still beat strongly...stronger than she
would have expected when he fell unconscious.

LaCroix released his son, who now had no reason to bound forward, then
slowly started toward Natalie, moving behind her.

"What happened?" Natalie asked, still a bit confused.  "Did I--"

"No, you didn't kill him," LaCroix sneered.  "He will recover.  I
believe he is unconscious because you cut off his air supply.  A little
less enthusiasm next time, perhaps?"

She spun, her eyes and teeth going back to normal.  Next time?

"And, of course, there *will* be a next time."  LaCroix grinned and
leaned forward, raising a hand toward the few drops of blood on her
lips, only to find a hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him.  His
smile intensified and he looked askance at his son.  "Ah, yes, Nicholas.
Feeling a bit left out?"

Nick released LaCroix' arm once his sire pulled his fingers back and
away from Natalie.

"Enjoy," LaCroix said, then started toward the stairs, chuckling.  "Make
sure he doesn't remember any of this."

Nick shut his eyes tight.  Of course LaCroix would leave them with the
'clean up' task.  If nothing else, it was more practice for Natalie.
"Nat?" he asked, opening his eyes and turning to her.

She didn't answer.  She was a bit stunned and didn't even react as Nick
started to reach his hand up toward her face like LaCroix had done, but
he stopped mid-action.  When he moved to kiss her cheek, she turned
toward him and kissed him on the lips.

Surprised, he nearly pulled away when he tasted the man's potent blood.
With the first taste, however, he couldn't part from the tantalising
treat, and he deepened the kiss, only stopping when the warm, lively
blood was gone.

For a moment they rested their foreheads together, eyes closed, then
Natalie whispered, "I guess I should see if I can wake him," and she
reluctantly pulled away from Nick and turned to the still unconscious
Jean-Paul.  "Would I have killed him if I hadn't...nearly strangled
him?"

"I don't know."

"I think it's what made me stop.  When he passed out, that is."

She stared down at the mortal man, but didn't approach him, even though
she knew she should.  They had to ensure he wouldn't remember them, and
while she should do that herself, she just...couldn't.

"His blood tasted different than that woman's.  She was resigned to die.
She had *wanted* it.  He did, too, but..  He does this to feel more
alive.  He enjoys it almost as much as--"  And then it hit her; she had
rather enjoyed the sensual nature of Nick feeding from her when she had
still been mortal.  True, her reasons were perhaps different, but like
her, this man knew what to expect and felt the same mix of pleasure and
pain that she had.  She took a step away from the man and then started
for the stairs, wanting to get away.

Nick grabbed her arm, stopping her before she could flee.  He pulled her
back against him and held her tight.  "Natalie, it's okay."

"Please, Nick, let me go," she whispered.  "I need to get out of here."
She pushed against him, then added, "I'll wait for you on the roof.
Please.  Just let me go."

Reluctantly he nodded, kissed Natalie on the cheek, then released her.
He watched her quickly start for the stairs and not look back.  Now he
turned to the mortal, hoping the man would wake so that he could also
leave.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (086/111)

"Nat?" Nick asked once he had joined Natalie on the roof of the Raven.
She wasn't crying, nor had she been, but something seemed off.  "Do you
want to talk?"

She shook her head.  "No.  Or not about...oh, I don't know.  Can we go
somewhere?  Maybe take that walk in the park?" she asked tentatively.

He smiled and walked over to her.  "Do you think you can follow me?  Are
you up for it?"

"Might as well try," she told him and, in an instant, he left the roof.
She followed, thankful that he had only flown a little further than she
could see before pausing.  It only took a couple of minutes to reach a
walk-way in a park, deserted except for themselves.  She landed a good
ten metres from Nick, who was turned facing her.  He seemed pleased, but
she felt a bit odd about it.  Either he had made it easy, or this was
yet another thing she excelled at.

Nick was a bit concerned when Natalie didn't walk up to him after she
landed, but rather than push, he silently waited.  After nearly a
minute, she approached.  He put his arm around her back once she reached
him, and he felt her do the same to him.

Natalie kept walking, leaning up against Nick.  Eventually she told him,
"What I was thinking about, why I had to leave--  It was the idea of how
much he was enjoying it, and..."  She closed her eyes.  This was another
thing they had never really talked about.  "And remembering how it felt
when you bit me...before, when I was still mortal."

"And...what he did?" he softly asked.

"Yes."  She paused again.  "If he wants me to do that again...you're
choosing my...victim."

"Nat..."

"You heard me, Nick.  You.  Not him.  He did that on purpose.  I'm sure
he knows I've drained you to unconsciousness more than once when
we--God, how much does he get from us, anyway?  Of our thoughts.  Do you
know?"

"No, I don't know.  He most often picks up on thoughts that are at the
forefront of my mind.  The few times I've asked for more detail, or an
explanation, he hasn't answered.  Sometimes I think he taught Janette
how to block herself on some level, but--"

"He never taught you."

He shook his head.  "And he never will.  Nor will he teach you."

"Because I might somehow tell or show you."  She paused, saw Nick nod
again, then she added, "And because he could track me to find you, if he
needed.  Or maybe together we're even easier to find."

"Probably," he whispered.

"But if he really wants me to do that again, then I want you to choose
who.  I know you won't manipulate me like he does, and I think I'd feel
better if you chose."

"I might not choose anyone better, Nat.  I've done such cruel--"

"Shh," she said, touching his chest briefly with her free arm.

For several minutes they simply walked, neither speaking, both lost in
their own thoughts.  Eventually she restarted the conversation with
something less tense, or she hoped it would be.  "I keep forgetting to
ask...how many people have wished you 'happy birthday'?  I mean, I know
you go by the 'new' calendar date and not the original day, but..."

"Only two so far," Nick answered, smiling slightly.  "Schanke and--"

"The desk sergeant by any chance?  He seemed a little embarrassed that
night..."

Nick nodded.  "Yeah.  I told Schanke about the calendar discrepancies; I
think he has some sort of present tucked away in his desk somewhere.  I
didn't bother enlightening the desk sergeant, but I think someone else
told him after, explained it's not actually my birthday...yet.  No
comments at all last night."

"What do you think Schanke got you?"

"No idea."  He grinned and pulled Natalie a little closer.  "What do you
have planned?"

"You'll just have to wait and see."

"Not bowling?"

"I'm not saying whether it is or isn't."

"Will I like it?"

"Hmm, yes, I think you will," she said, first glancing up to him, then
down at the ground in front of her.  To be honest, she wasn't sure how
much of a surprise it would be, considering they fed from each other
nearly daily, but she deliberately tried to think about it as little as
possible when they did.  She also wasn't sure how much he would like
it--she hoped he would.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Toxicology report for the Carter case.  It came back clean as a
whistle," Natalie said, dropping a report in front of Nick.

"Great, another file," he muttered, not even looking up at her or at the
file.

"This feels strange, having you fill in for Cohen like this."

"I think I feel stranger."  He leaned back in his chair and glanced
toward Natalie, who didn't seem to believe him.  "Did you know Cohen
keeps a sheet and tallies up how many minutes late we are?  I know
Schanke's gotten extra days, but..."  He pulled out the sheet and held
it out.  "Apparently, I'm not that far behind him."

She took it, shook her head, and handed it back.  "Yeah, but you more
than make up for it."

Nick tucked it away again.  "I only put him down for five, instead of
the seven he missed.  He's about ready for another extra shift."

"How's he doing without you?"

"Other than being a bit nicer to me than usual?" he asked, teasing.  "I
don't think he's thrilled about Tracy.  At all.  To be honest, I'm not
thrilled, either--she tried to get hold of some of my mail.  Schanke had
already gone through it, but I get the impression she tried last night,
too."

"Well, I don't blame her for being curious.  Even I haven't seen any of
it; you keep burning it in the fireplace."

"Ask Skank.  He's been reading it," Nick said, picking up the file
Natalie had delivered.

"He hasn't."  Natalie's eyes widened slightly in disbelief when he
started ever so slightly nodding.  "He has?"

"I didn't exactly say he couldn't; he offered to go through my mail for
me."  Nick stiffened and dropped the file again, then somewhat angrily
added, "Maybe it'll help him make his decision about me if they offer
him reassignment."

"Nick...you can't mean that."

"Yes, I do.  I don't think he realises what I've done and likely will do
again at some point.  At least this way he can get a hint, a reminder--"

"Until you can tell him," she whispered.

He absently nodded at the comment, then nodded more firmly toward the
report.  "So the tox report was clean?"

"Yep.  Sorry.  Although at least it'll rule some possibilities out for
them."  Then, tentatively, she asked, "How did McIntyre greet you?"

"He didn't."

"Yeah, but didn't he have to--"

"He did his job in handing things over, but he obviously doesn't like
me.  He should have been given this assignment, not me.  Or that's what
he thinks.  Made a snide comment about not even knowing about it until
after the decision was made."  He paused, closing his eyes.

"Well, it wasn't his decision to make.  And I think she made the right
choice."

"Nat--"

"She weighed the options and chose you.  Frankly, McIntyre would have
been the absolute worst choice.  He's only been day commander for about
a year, and his beef with you isn't the only one I've heard about.  And
then they'd have to have someone fill in for him...and, well,
night-shift has an extra person--and that person couldn't very well fill
in for him.  It was only logical that she picked someone from nights."

"But why me?  I've been singled out so much lately, and--"

"And you've handled it superbly.  And, like it or not, being able to
handle stress is a big part of her job."

Nick almost laughed at that.  "I don't think I'm doing a very good job
at that.  I think I have a headache."

She raised an eyebrow at that.  "An actual headache, or--"

"An actual headache," he confirmed.

"You know, I haven't so much as felt a twinge...not from my head, not
from my knee, not from--"

"Natalie, please..."

"Whatever the case...do you want me to get something for you?  We both
know an aspirin won't make you too sick, although can't guarantee it'll
help the headache any, either.  And there's always...lunch."

Nick shook his head.  "No, and I'm not sure even that will help.  I
think blood will only make me want to...kill something."

"Or someone?  McIntyre, maybe?"

Nick opened his eyes and glanced up at Natalie, then away.  "No one in
particular."

"I could stay here for a little while, if you want.  You know, actually
take a lunch break together..." Natalie suggested, touching the back of
the chair in front of the desk.  "Would that help?"

"I don't know if it will help, but..."

She smiled and walked around the chair to sit.  "Then I'll stay for a
bit."

"Thanks, Nat."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

The following night, Schanke came in after Tracy and spied her going
through her inbox--Nick's inbox, actually--and she had pulled out Nick's
unwanted mail.  On his way to his desk, he snatched the letters from in
front of her.

"Hey!  I was going to--"

"No, you weren't," he sternly told her.

"*You've* been reading them."

"Yeah, and I feel like I shouldn't be," Schanke muttered, tossing the
mail on his desk.  To be honest, many of the actual letters amounted to
genuine hate mail, bordering on threats.  Most, unfortunately, didn't
have return addresses or, if they did, were obviously bogus.

"Why?" she asked, the cryptic comment more than she had gotten the
previous nights when she tried mentioning the letters.

"Oh, I don't know, it's not my mail, for one.  And Knight's...he's not
really the sharing type.  Frankly, I'm not sure I should open any more
up."

Tracy stared.  From what she was aware, Nick's partner wasn't Mr.
Leave-It-Be.  Not without some reason.  "But he said you could, right?"

"Didn't say I couldn't."

"Then what's the problem?" she asked, then made a swipe for the other
desk and managed to grab the top letter.  She sat back in her chair and
started opening it, pulling out a piece of notepaper.  "To Nicholas--"

Fuming, Schanke snatched the letter back, accidentally crumpling it as
he took it from Tracy's hand.

"Sorry, but it's probably just some generic 'I hate vampires' rant,
isn't it?"

Schanke glanced at the crumpled piece of paper and paled at the words he
read.  Whoever this person was, they were accusing Nick of having killed
his or her mother and ranting on about how many others he had killed.
Using an example of two victims a week over 770 years, the writer of the
letter had come up with '80,000+' dead at 'his' hands.  Schanke felt
sick at the thought.  He first put the letter away, then he pulled out a
calculator and entered 2 X 52 X 770 = and...yep: 80,080.  He paled
further.  That was assuming a mere two 'meals' a week.  That was,
admittedly, a pretty conservative guess on how often a vampire might
feed.  It could easily be twice as many.  Or more.  He really didn't
know.  Even one a week would be forty-thousand...

"Is something wrong?" Tracy asked.

"Er, no; nothing's wrong," Schanke managed, although he knew it was
somewhat a lie.  Nick had killed who knows how many people--tens of
thousands at the least, by the look of it.  His partner had very
possibly killed more people than lived in some moderately sized cities.
That thought was...horrific.  How could he live with it?  He sure
couldn't...

"Schanke, you sure you're okay?"

"Fine, fine," he muttered, putting the letter somewhere out of sight.
"Let's just focus on our work, all right?"  For once, he really looked
forward to doing some paperwork...and not only so he appeared busy, but
because it would give his thoughts something else to focus on.

Tracy raised her eyebrows, but pulled out a file as Schanke did the
same.

Even trying to work, Schanke couldn't manage to get much done.  Oh, he
made a little progress, but it was downright painful to focus.  The
tedium did, however, help slow his thoughts after a few minutes.

Yes, his partner was a vampire.  And yes, he had killed people.  But
that was in the past, and he knew--both from actually being told and his
partner's behaviour when he had reluctantly answered his questions--that
he regretted what he had done.  And he believed it.

When he thought Tracy wasn't looking, he peered at the envelope that
still sat on his partner's desk.  No return address, just like he
expected.  And the writer hadn't given any real clues in the actual
letter.  This was nothing more than some idiot taking out their anger on
his partner...one of only a few vampires he--or anyone else--knew by
name and could find some sort of an address for without too much
difficulty.  It was an anti-vampire rant directed at a high-profile
vampire.  Nothing more.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (087/111)

Schanke paced in the precinct parking lot shortly after midnight the
following night, a sealed envelope in his hand.  Natalie had called him
down to the morgue, but not about his and Tracy's case from the morning
before--another blasted suicide, which made him feel useless.  She had
turned him into a delivery boy, giving him the envelope, along with
instructions to give it to his partner.

Obviously it was a birthday card, but surely Natalie would get him some
sort of present, right?  She could have given him his gift there at the
loft--they were living together, after all--but this felt different.
She had smiled rather oddly at him after she had given it to him and
told him to swear to make Nick open it right then.  And wait until he
did before he left.  And again--why?

Finally Schanke stopped pacing, paused for a moment, then headed inside
and made a bee-line for Cohen's office.  The door was open, and he
inched his way in and prepared to knock on the door--just before Nick
looked up at him, looking completely exhausted.

"Skank, is there something--"

"No, just--Natalie kinda tricked me into being her delivery boy," he
complained, holding up the envelope, then he started forward and handed
it over.

Taking it, Nick narrowed his eyes at the envelope, curious as much about
the contents as why Nat had sent it this way.  The outside was
completely blank, and it was sealed.  He glanced up at Schanke, who was
hovering rather nervously.

"I'm, er, supposed to wait until you've opened it.  And don't ask
why--Natalie's instructions again."

He let his confusion show at that, then turned to the envelope and
flipped it over.  He carefully opened it, puzzled why Natalie wanted him
to open it so soon...and why she hadn't simply brought it herself.  She
liked watching him open cards and presents...

Schanke watched, now more curious than ever, trying to get a peek at the
card, but he couldn't see it.

Nick smiled slightly at the card.  It didn't have any words, just a
picture of two pale yellow roses on the front.  He opened it, expecting
some sort of birthday greeting, only to find a two word question having
nothing to do with his birthday: "Marry me?"  Nick's smile faltered for
a moment at the surprise, but then he grinned as he closed the card and
put it carefully back in its envelope.

"So?  It's just a birthday card, right?  Any clues on your present?  I'm
sure Nat'll get you something..."

Nick's smile widened.  "No, Schanke, it's not a birthday card."  He
dropped his gaze to the desk.  "Although I think it is a clue to
my...present."  He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.  He was
still a bit stunned by the question.  True, he had somewhat known from
her blood that she had vaguely been thinking about getting married.  He
had been considering the idea as well, but they hadn't talked about it
at all.

His wistful smile abruptly vanished when he felt the presence of another
vampire.  Immediately he knew who it was, and he whispered, "Natalie," a
second before he opened his eyes and looked to the office door, where he
found her standing, clearly a bit nervous.

Schanke also turned, and seeing her, he asked, "Why'd you have me
take...whatever's made him all..."  He trailed off, not wanting to say
'happy,' in case that's not what Nick was, and he gestured toward the
desk instead, "...if you were coming over anyway?"

Natalie nearly blushed at that, then basically ignored Schanke and
started forward toward the desk.  "So, Nick..."

"A bit...unconventional, isn't it?" he asked with a smile.

"Well..." she started.  "You going to give me an answer?  Or you could
always--"

"Yes," he replied.

"Yes--to what?" Schanke interrupted, thoroughly confused, his eyes
darting between the two.  "Nick?  Natalie?"  He clenched his fists when
they kept quiet.  "Come on, will somebody tell me what the heck's going
on here?"

She didn't turn, merely continued to smile at Nick, watching his smile
turn into a grin.  "Well?  You going to tell him?"

"On her card, Natalie asked...if I would marry her," he slowly replied,
deliberately so that Schanke would have time to process the news, his
eyes not leaving Natalie.  "And yes, I will."

"Natalie asked--you're going to get married?" Schanke asked, and got a
vague nod from his partner.  "Did you two plan this?"

"Ah, no," she said sheepishly, turning toward Schanke.  "Not at all.
Although I'm not sure it was exactly a surprise...was it, Nick?" she
turned back, asking the last.

"It actually was a surprise.  I was expecting birthday wishes, not a
proposal."

"But you would have asked me if I hadn't asked you first, right?"

He nodded again, his grin intensifying.  "Yeah, I would have asked."

"So you two already talked about it, right?" Schanke asked, stepping
cautiously nearer.

"Not...really," he admitted.  "We've talked about some related issues,
though."

Natalie took Schanke by the arm, and started shooing him toward the
door.  "Now out, Skank.  Back to work.  You can bug Nick in a few."
Within moments she had him out of the office and the door closed.

"You didn't have to do that, Nat."

"Yes, I did," she said, returning to the desk.  This time she walked
around it and leaned up against one corner.

"And I would have asked.  Really."

"And I'm sure you would have bought me some gargantuan rock I couldn't
wear to work."  She saw him look away slightly.  "And yes, that's a
large part of why I asked.  I don't need or even want a proper
engagement ring.  A band will do; believe me, it's a lot less hassle
when you have to wear gloves all the time.  Besides that, we don't need
to provide anything more than we already will for the rumour mill, and
that includes both the news media and our co-workers; getting married
will be big enough as it is.  Definitely don't need them to start
wondering how much money you have stashed away somewhere."

"I'm not even sure we can, not officially anyway.  I don't have a birth
certificate.  Or not a proper one."

"Nick, your life history has been broadcast around the world by now.
And...I already kind of checked into it, asked some questions.  In
fact..." she hesitated, wondering what he would think about what she had
done.  "I already picked up the forms for a marriage license while I was
at the court house.  We just need to sign them and take them in."

"W-what?" he asked, a bit surprised.

"You're not upset, are you?  I'm really not trying to push things.  We
don't have to take them in right away if you don't want..."

He was still a bit stunned, and it was a few seconds before he shook his
head.  "No, I'm not upset."

"Good," she said with a renewed smile.  "Now that I've got you
thoroughly distracted...I really need to go.  I think Schanke's waiting
to talk, too."

Nick's attention shifted to the door...yep, Schanke was standing outside
the door, his back to the office, waiting for his turn.

"And Happy Birthday, Nick."

He barely managed to smile at that before Natalie was gone.  Immediately
Schanke snuck back inside, closing the door behind him.

"So, Partner, welcome to a life of servitude.  Assuming you didn't
change your answer while I was out..."

"No, I didn't change my answer.  And Schanke?  Don't tell anyone.  And I
mean anyone, not even Myra."

"Sure.  Cross my--" Schanke stopped mid-sentence and mid-action.
"Sorry."

"I trust that you won't tell anyone."

"You guys made any plans for the wedding yet?"

"Schanke...it's been...not even five minutes!  And besides, we want to
keep it quiet, remember?"

"Ha!  You know it's gonna spread like wildfire once--"

"Don't you think I know that, Schanke!?  That's why I want *you* to keep
it quiet."

"Or what?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

"Or..." Nick eyed the tally-sheet.  "Or I'll make sure you get an extra
shift before Christmas."

"What?"  The mischievous look was suddenly gone, and Schanke swallowed
hard.

Nick smiled slyly.  "You're almost due for another one.  I could add a
few extra minutes here and there..."

"No, you wouldn't dare--"

"Think of it as being proactive.  Right now you're only twenty-seven
minutes short; more like twenty-two, if I add back in what I didn't put
down the last couple of days.  You might get there before Christmas,
anyway."

Schanke stared a bit, completely forgetting about his partner's good
news for a moment.  "You mean I'm twenty-seven minutes away from--"

"Cohen telling you to do an extra shift?  Yeah.  She keeps a list.  And
she expects me to keep it up to date while she's gone."

"Crap--Myra will kill me if I have to pull an extra shift while the
in-laws are here.  Please, Nick, please, please don't--"

"If I don't put anything down, she'll know something's up.  Just don't
be too late.  I've only got another four days, and two of those you're
off."

"And how much have you added in the past four?"

Nick had to check.  There was the five--in reality seven--minutes from
tonight, and another seven--in reality ten--from two nights before.
"Twelve."

"Ha, see?"

"It was actually seventeen.  I was trying to help you out."

"And what's your own tally?"

Nick's smirk softened at that.  "I have about another hour before I get
an extra shift.  That make you feel better?"

"Yeah, actually," Schanke said with a grin.  "And I suppose I can wish
you a happy birthday now?"

He nodded.  "Yeah, thanks."

"So what, now you're--"

"Eight-hundred and two."

"Will this be the first time you've been married?"

"No," Nick answered honestly, although he was worried a bit now that
they were back on their main subject.

Schanke stood there and thought for a moment, trying to remember what
Janette had told him on one of the few times he had actually talked to
her alone, before this mess.  "You know, Janette said something once
about...leaving you, I think.  I take it you two were married?"

"At one point."

"For how long?"

"A while.  And it was a long time ago.  Now out, before--"

Schanke turned and started toward the door.  "Before you zap my brain to
mush.  I get it."  He turned back once his hand was on the knob.
"Congratulations, though, and let me know if you need any help with
anything.  Myra has connections you and Nat could use.  You know, for
the wedding."

Nick tried not to glare at his partner.  "Thanks and...I'll let Natalie
know, but I don't know what kind of wedding she might like, or if she
even wants one at all, for that matter.  We obviously have a lot to talk
about now."

"I'll bet.  Just as a heads-up, women can get crazy if things aren't
*juuust* right for that big day--or night--or...whatever.  You know what
I mean."

Nick's mood was rapidly turning sombre, even before Schanke left the
office.  He was thankful his partner had shut the door behind him.  He
hadn't really thought about any details, and he couldn't ever remember
Natalie mentioning what type of wedding she might want.  He assumed
small; she didn't have many friends or family, nor did he.  But there
were other details...

They'd definitely have to talk.  A lot.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (088/111)

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Nick looked up at the entrance to the Raven.  No, he wasn't sure, but
he'd rather tell LaCroix and get it over with.  The previous night had
been...interesting.

Not only was there Natalie's question, but Schanke's birthday gift had
been rather humorous--a black coffee mug with 'Vampires Suck' written in
red, bloody letters.  If it had been anyone else--except perhaps
Natalie--he'd have been offended.  Schanke had already turned it into a
pen-holder before pointing out the gift itself.

Schanke had also decorated their desks in red and silver tinsel
garlands.  Or Tracy Vetter had--he didn't ask who had done it, and to be
honest, he didn't much mind.  The decoration matched the mug perfectly.
The only down-side was the gift had his mind on the gift exchange--that
was less than a week away now.  He still hadn't gotten anything for his
giftee yet, either.

"Nick?"

He nodded, shaking off his runaway thoughts.  "Yeah.  I need to get this
over with."

"*We* need to get this over with," she corrected.  "And probably the
sooner, the better."

He nodded again.  They had talked quite a bit that day and decided on
not waiting much longer to get the marriage license, that any ceremony
would be very small, and that she'd let him not only buy their wedding
bands, but also get her a nicer but not over-the-top ring she could wear
when she didn't have to work.

"Er, Nick?  If we're going to go in, you do have to *move*."

He finally broke his gaze away from the name of the club and glanced at
Natalie with a half-smile.  He dropped his hand from her back, then took
her hand in his and started inside, his steps hesitant.

The club was nearly empty, almost closing time.  He quickly spied
LaCroix sitting alone at the bar with a glass.

"What a surprise; an unscheduled visit..." LaCroix droned, not turning
immediately.

"We have something to tell you," he said, half-hoping his sire would
guess so he wouldn't have to actually say it.

LaCroix forced a smile, then finally turned on the stool to face them.
"And what do you have to tell me?" he asked, first looking to his son,
then to his daughter.

"Natalie and I are going to get married."

"How..."

"Please don't criticise."

"How...wonderful," LaCroix said, although it wasn't what he originally
planned to say.  He casually set his glass down, not wanting to destroy
it.  While he had somewhat wondered if they would get married, he hadn't
expected it to be so soon.  "When did you decide this?"

"I asked Nick last night," Natalie told him.

"A birthday present, then?"  Seeing her faint surprise, he suppressed a
chuckle.  "Of course I know when Nicholas' birthday is, and yours as
well.  I suppose third time's the charm...so they say."

This time both Nick and Natalie tensed.  She didn't know about his
other, rather short marriage, as far as he was aware.  It was one of the
few things in his past that--somehow--hadn't been gleaned from the
various obscure documents about him and broadcast to the world.  She
only officially knew about his and Janette's past, and she had only
recently discovered they had been actually married.  Granted, it sounded
as though she had suspected before that, but...

"Yes, our dear Nicholas was married twice before."

"Please, LaCroix..."

"Once to Janette, of course; she left him, but I think you already know
that, am I correct?" LaCroix stared into Natalie's eyes, and indeed she
didn't react.  "Once before that he married a young woman and intended
to bring her across...and failed."  He softly laughed.  "Nicholas hadn't
been a vampire but a hundred years at the time, barely more than a
fledgling."

She relaxed a little.  While Nick hadn't told her about this, it sounded
like it filled in some blanks about his hesitation toward letting their
friendship become anything more.

"When do you plan your...celebration?"

"Sometime after we put in for a license," Nick answered.

"Ah, yes, paperwork."

"And we don't really want anything that would draw attention," Natalie
added.  "And it's not as if we have a lot of friends to invite."

"I'm sure I could arrange something appropriate..."

"No," Nick and Natalie said simultaneously, but all that did was make
LaCroix smile at them...a devious smile that neither of them much liked.
Nick then added, "It's fine.  Thanks for the offer, but we wouldn't want
you to go out of your way."

LaCroix held out his hands magnanimously.  "Out of my way?  Nonsense.
The club does not operate all night, and not at all during the day.
Plenty of opportunity for it to become a...wedding venue."

"No, LaCroix--"

"We'll think about it," Natalie said, interrupting, which earned her
another evil grin from LaCroix and a glare from Nick.  "I said we'll
*think* about it.  All right, Nick?"

He really didn't want to even consider being married in the Raven, but
if nothing else, he had to admit that the club would be quite private,
especially if they did it during non-business hours.  "All right, we'll
think about it," he finally echoed.

"Good."  LaCroix turned back to the bar and took a sip from his glass.
"Now, this license you need to appease the mortals...when will you have
this?"

"Natalie needs to testify in court on Monday morning.  We may get it
then."  Nick shifted, his gaze dropping to the floor.  There was still
one thing he was a bit worried about.  "I'm not sure if they'll accept
my ID, so don't plan anything yet, and I mean *anything*.  We're only
thinking about it, nothing more.  For now."

"But you *will* continue to plan, will you not, Nicholas?"  LaCroix'
eyes drifted to Natalie, to her hands.  "I don't see a ring."

"I'm not getting one, or not yet, at least," she said, shifting her
hands uncomfortably out of sight.  "It's my choice and somewhat part of
why I asked first.  I'm perfectly content with a simple band.  Nothing
flashy."

LaCroix' grin softened at that and became more genuine.  His son rarely
wore rings or any other jewellery, for that matter.  The most he'd worn
in recent years was a watch, a gift from Natalie, he knew.

"What, LaCroix?"

"Nothing.  Simply thinking that this could be interesting."

"And you promise you won't plan anything?  You won't arrange anything
without our knowledge or consent?" Nick pressed.

Reluctantly, after taking another draught from his glass, LaCroix
droned, "I will not plan or arrange anything without your permission."

"Thank you," he managed, then looked away, glancing to Natalie for a
moment.  "We need to get back to work."

"And you'll inform me once you get your...license?"

"Yeah, we'll tell you, and we'll also tell you our decision regarding
your...offer.  And we really do need to go."

"And...how is that going?  I believe you are in charge this week, if my
sources are correct."

Nick froze and turned, still holding Natalie's hand.  How did LaCroix
know?  He had been careful not to tell his sire, certain he would make a
big deal of it.  "Fine."  Turning, he pulled Natalie easily with him
before LaCroix could ask more questions or make some further comment.

Once outside, the doors shut behind them, they stopped and Natalie
asked, "Well, that went better than I expected.  I was positive he'd
tell us it was a stupid idea."

"I think he was about to."

"I'm surprised he offered the use of the club."  Natalie paused, then
turned toward Nick, who seemed a bit shocked.  "You know, it would be
convenient.  And it'd keep prying eyes and ears away.  Keep us out of
the fishbowl, so to speak."

He slowly nodded, agreeing, but cautiously.  "I had thought about
that..."  He managed a smile.  "We'll think about it, all right?"

"Good.  I think...  He wouldn't actually plan everything without
permission, would he?"

"I wouldn't be surprised.  He likes meddling.  Thrives on it, actually.
Especially if it involves me, or something I want."

"He wouldn't--I don't know--ruin it or something, would he?"

"No, I don't think so," he slowly answered, thinking.  "Anything he'd
plan would be appropriate.  He wouldn't want to risk losing us over
something so...trivial to him."

"It might not be so bad, then," she suggested, but he didn't relax any.
"At least we still have a few days to think about it.  Until we have the
marriage license, we can't really plan much.  And I don't know about
you, but I'm okay without a party or big celebration."

Nick nodded again; he was perfectly all right with a short and simple
ceremony.  They really only wanted to formalise their relationship.
Good or bad, a small ceremony at the Raven would probably attract the
least amount of attention and prying eyes and ears.

"And about the rings--I *do* want to have those on hand for the actual
ceremony.  And I know you do, too, and they haven't even been ordered
yet."

"I'll take care of it," Nick promised.  "Now, I need to get back."

"Hmm, yes, you can't really wander off now, can you?  Not with you being
the 'boss'," Natalie grinned as she teased him.

"No, I can't.  At least there are only two more nights left after
tonight."

"And only six until the gift exchange--mustn't forget about that.  Five,
really, since you'll have to drop it off before shift change if--"

"I know," he said a bit annoyed...and panicked.  He still hadn't gotten
anything, and he also had no idea who had drawn his name.  No chatter or
whispers had revealed that.  Either his co-workers had finally realised
it was a bad idea to even whisper within earshot...or whoever had gotten
his name hadn't said anything.  He didn't know who got Schanke or
Natalie's names, either.  In fact, everyone seemed unusually
tight-lipped.  He couldn't remember it being that way in previous
years...but then he hadn't really paid much attention.  "I'll see you in
the morning?" he asked Natalie, then getting a nod, he took off into the
misty morning air.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

The next few days went rather smoothly.  Nick and Natalie had gone to a
jeweller's the following night and ordered the rings.  Natalie had left
directly from there to go to work, at which Nick had gone back into the
shop to make a quick addition that he hoped Natalie wouldn't mind.

Then, he finally managed to buy the present for his giftee, which had
been his most difficult task.  The jeweller hadn't seemed to recognise
him--but then they surely realised a vampire could make a rather good
customer and probably didn't want to screw up, either--but the clerk
that rang up his gift for the exchange had.  He had ended up making the
poor woman forget, lest his trip to the store hit the ever-nosy media.
For his giftee, he had gone with the idea of hot chocolate, and had even
snooped a bit at her desk.  He learned that her supply consisted solely
of dark hot chocolate, so he had gotten some of that in a few different
brands.  He had it wrapped and squirrelled away in his desk, no tag yet.

Nick also hadn't had any further issues the last two nights of his
reassignment as temporary captain, then Sunday night he had been
wonderfully off.  Monday had been...tiring, to say the least.  He had
stayed up like the last time Natalie had needed to be in court, and they
had been stuck, waiting at the courthouse, until after noon before
Natalie had testified.  After that they had gone to get the marriage
license, which had turned out to be a rather simple task.

The clerk in the courthouse, however, had definitely recognised both of
them--Nick from the news, and Natalie from her name.  Nick had ended up
making the young man forget about them after they had paid, gotten the
license, and watched him file the paperwork.  Natalie hadn't chastised
him; after all, neither of them wanted the news getting out,
particularly before they were actually married.

That afternoon they had managed a whole hour's worth of sleep, then Nick
had arrived at work, only to be called into Cohen's office.  He had at
first feared he had screwed up somehow, but Cohen simply smiled at him
and asked if he was looking forward to going back to his regular job--he
was--and had been allowed to go on his way.  Tracy Vetter was back on
days, working with Briggs and Flanagan, which meant it was back to just
him and Schanke.

He breathed a brief sigh of relief, only to realise that going back to
his regular job also meant Schanke would inevitably ask questions, such
as when he and Natalie were going to get married.  He barely managed to
get all the way through his shift without letting anything slip.  He
would inform his partner before the actual event, of course, but he and
Natalie had decided they wanted things more finalised before telling
him--or Cohen.

Another issue he and Natalie had thought about were their names.
Natalie wanted to change her last name.  He didn't particularly want her
to, but she had reminded him they could always both go by 'Lambert'
sometime in the future if they wanted.  Also there was the issue whether
to use 'Knight' or his real last name.  They still hadn't decided, but
Nick suspected they'd just go with his current last name.  When it came
down to it, it was easier.

Then, arriving home Tuesday morning, Nick and Natalie froze the moment
they came out of the elevator.  LaCroix was waiting for them.

"Good morning, my children..."

Nick forced himself to look away from LaCroix' leer, and continued
forward.  "Why are you here?"

"To ask if the mortals will permit you to marry, of course."

"Yes, we got the license," Nick answered with a quick glance.  He
couldn't read his sire, beyond telling that he didn't seem upset.  "We
have three months to use it."

"Have you decided whether to accept my offer to use the Raven for the
ceremony?"

Nick turned toward Natalie at this.  He had decided it would be up to
her.  "Nat?"

"Depends..."

"On?"

"We only want a simple ceremony--*very* simple."

"That can be arranged."

Natalie pursed her lips.  He was going to make it so they couldn't,
wouldn't say no.  "And we want it at night, early evening."

"Which, again, can be arranged.  Have you decided on a date?"

"No, we haven't.  We still need a few things, first."

"Such as?"

Natalie had to push back her anger at the continued questions, but it
tinged her words as she replied, "For one, we don't have the rings yet
and, second, we don't know what either of us plans to wear."

"I'm sure you will figure that out in time."

Nick barely had time to digest that before LaCroix vanished, flying out
of sight and leaving.

"Did he say what I think?  Or mean what I think?" Natalie asked, both
surprised and concerned.

"He's going to arrange the rest of it, apparently," Nick muttered.  "And
probably pick the night, too."

"Does he even know the meaning of 'simple'?  Or do we need to give him a
detailed list of what we want and don't want?"

"A list might be good, but I think it'll be okay."

"So we need to at least decide what to wear, then," she stated and got a
weak but immediate nod.  "You know, with our luck, he'll make it in a
week or so...  When I asked, I wanted it to be when we--and you--wanted
it.  I didn't mean to--"

Nick smiled.  "I know, and it's fine.  But I feel a little--"

"Nervous?"

"A bit.  More annoyed at LaCroix being...almost pushy about this."

"*Almost* pushy?"  Natalie got a stronger smile at that.  She supposed
it could be worse.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (089/111)

"So, Knight, you gonna open it, or just leave it as-is and use it as an
oversized paperweight?" Schanke challenged.

Nick sat at his desk and stared at the rather larger than expected box.
It wasn't light, either--he had already gently prodded it.  And shaken
it.

Natalie leaned over Nick's shoulder.  "Ah, come on, it can't be that
bad.  I got some nice candles, Schanke got a magnetic puzzle thing, and
from what I hear, our gifts went over well.  I seriously doubt it'll
hurt you."

"Seriously doubt?" he asked, looking up at her, who remained hovering
next to him.  She was off tonight and had come to the precinct solely
for this event; she was on her way to grill some basic guidelines into
LaCroix regarding their wedding.  "And what if it's--"

"Open it," she said, grinning.

He nervously touched the wrapping paper, then carefully undid it so as
not to tear the green, shiny trees.  Then, much to his dismay, he found
another layer of paper--this time thick, brown paper--and he had to
unwrap that as well.  Inside was a wooden box, judging by the first
peek, and indeed it was, as he peeled back the rest of the paper so that
it sat neatly on the brown packing paper in the middle of his desk.  His
gaze was locked on the top.  In the lid was a somewhat crudely but
clearly carved sun.  His gift-giver had surely gone over the monetary
amount they were supposed to stick to.  Even an uncarved, unstained
wooden box likely cost more than this.

"That is gorgeous," Natalie whispered, reaching her hand toward the
carving but stopping before touching it; instead she brushed her fingers
along the top edge of the box.

"It won't burn you, or probably won't.  Depictions of the sun are only
an issue if it has religious meaning or purpose.  Not much of a problem
for younger vampires."

"That's good to know."  Then she added, "It's really nice.  Very
thoughtful."

"Let me see," Schanke said, standing and leaning over his desk to get a
good look at it.  "Aw, man...  Nat's right.  How come you always have
better luck than me?  And I wonder who got it for you..."

"I have no idea."

"No idea?  At all?  You?" Schanke asked, incredulous.

"No idea," he repeated.  "I haven't overheard anything."

"Maybe ask someone from days.  Flanagan's still here.  He might know,"
suggested Schanke, nodding to the younger detective.

Natalie had noticed, too; in fact, Flanagan had been watching them since
Nick had sat down in front of his gift.  "You know, Nick, he's been
watching as you opened that...  And he seems awfully nervous."

"He doesn't look nervous to me," Schanke said, trying to examine the
other detective, who had turned away after noticing the extra scrutiny.

"Oh, yeah, he's nervous.  His heart-rate just spiked," she said,
smiling.  "I think you might be his giftee, Nick.  He made a good
choice, didn't he?  I know how fond you are of suns in your decor."

"Sure, you know, but how did *he*?" he asked, turning to look up at
Natalie for a moment before again looking back at the box.  He touched
the lid, letting his fingers outline the edge of the carving.  He did
rather like it, but it felt odd how perfect the gift was, considering
that the other detective didn't know him well.  No one beyond Natalie,
or maybe Schanke, knew him that well.  LaCroix probably did, of course,
but the older man disapproved of his fascination with the sun.

He carefully prodded the lid open.  The box was neither flimsy nor did
it have so small a storage area to make it useless.  He would definitely
find some use for the box.

"Well, you can always ask him.  Looks like he's coming over," Natalie
whispered, leaning over a little after spying the young detective
starting toward them.

Nick barely had time to look up before Flanagan arrived within
conversational distance.

"I know we're not supposed to say whose name we got, but--"

"This is from you?" Nick asked, nodding toward the box on his desk.

"Yeah.  I must say I panicked when I pulled your name.  I didn't know
what was appropriate..."

"You seemed to have done quite well," Nick said rather evenly, and he
watched the younger man become more nervous.  "I really do like it,
but...how on earth did you pick this?  Especially with what I am?"

"When you were arrested that one time...it was before I made detective,
and I was one of the officers who went through your place," Flanagan
admitted sheepishly.  "I remembered the metal--"

"--sun on the wall," Nick finished.  Now it made more sense and he
relaxed, even smiled a little.  "May I ask where you found it?"

"Actually, I made it myself.  My brother-in-law has been teaching me how
to carve.  I'm not very good yet, but--"

"Well, I think it is just fine," Natalie interrupted.  "It's beautiful.
Besides, handmade items have more character than mass-produced ones."

"I hope it wasn't too personal a gift.  I only thought you might like it
more than a desk calendar or something like that."

Nick's gaze dropped to the box.  It was a bit personal, but he didn't
particularly mind.  "Not a problem.  It really is nice.  And very
thoughtful."  He smiled again, turning back to the day shift detective.
"And, yeah, much better than a desk calendar.  Thanks."  Then, curious,
he asked, "What did you get?" right as Flanagan was about to turn.

"A desk calendar.  One of those 'learn a new word a day' ones.  Same as
last year."

Nick smiled at that; so it wasn't his almost-gift, but the detective's
own gift.

"Ah, Nick?" Natalie asked, getting his attention.  "I'm gonna go deliver
that list.  I'll stop back around midnight.  That okay with you?"

"Sure," he told her, then watched her also leave.  Now he was stuck back
with Schanke.

"What list?"

"Just a list."  Not wanting to argue, he commented, adding a bit of his
hypnotic ability, "*It's nothing,*" and he watched his partner zone
out...for about three seconds.

"What list?" Schanke again asked.

Nick stared blankly forward.  It hadn't worked.  At least his partner
didn't seem to have noticed, but...

"Come on, what's it about?"

"You'll find out later.  Maybe."

"Ha!  It's about--"

"Don't even say it, Schanke," he evenly said, nearly changing.  Schanke
froze; Nick wondered if perhaps he had changed for a moment.
"But...yes," he admitted, deliberately softening his expression.
"You're right.  But, like I said, it's nothing."

And with that, Nick folded up the wrapping paper and placed it inside
the box, trying to avoid Schanke and start his shift.  He could barely
wait for it to be over.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Two nights later, early in their shift, Nick stared out the window of
Schanke's car.  They had checked in with Cohen, then left barely ten
minutes later, only to find the Caddy was gone.  On Schanke's car was a
note from Natalie.  She had taken it, something about her car having a
flat and wanting it at the morgue in case she was called out before she
could fix it.

He wasn't upset that they had taken Schanke's car or that he wasn't
driving, but he did wonder exactly where they were going.  They had
already left the 96th's jurisdiction, and Schanke showed no sign of
stopping.  He asked where they were headed, but had no luck getting an
answer.  Something was up.  He knew it.

They pulled into a full parking lot.  Schanke pulled to a stop, and Nick
asked, "Where are we?  What's going on?"

"You'll see.  Come on," and Schanke got out.

Nick, however, remained right where he was, sitting defiantly in the
passenger seat.  This felt like an ambush.  He imagined this was rather
what arriving at a surprise birthday party--or for that matter, a stag
party--might feel like.  Neither was remotely wanted.

"Come on, Knight, get out," Schanke said, pulling open the passenger
side door.

"Where are we?" he again asked.

"Er--"

"Where, Schanke?"  He barely finished asking the question when he found
himself distracted by a familiar sensation.  Another vampire was nearby.
After a moment, he spotted Natalie approaching from behind Schanke.
This was indeed a set-up.  "Where are we, Skank?"

"It's...it's the family Christmas thing," Schanke mumbled.  "They, er,
needed a Santa, and--"

"Oh, no.  No, absolutely not.  You're not getting me to--" Nick retorted
instantly and reached for the door, trying to pry it from his partner's
hands and shut himself back in the car.  Unfortunately by now, Natalie
was there, holding the door in place.  "Nat--"

"Natalie is backup."

"Backup?  For what?"

"To pry you out of the car, of course," Schanke said.  "And, er,
into..."

"No, Skank.  I am not doing this," he repeated, but Natalie had already
seized his right hand and was tugging him out of the car.  He couldn't
easily resist, not without damaging his partner's car.  "Natalie, this
is a bad idea.  A really bad--"

"I think it's a *great* idea," she countered, laughing at his childish
protests.

"No way, Nat.  I've already heard enough 'Saint Nicholas' jokes.  I
don't need any more."

"Aww, come on, that makes you perfect," she commented as she finally
pulled Nick to his feet, and Schanke shut the door behind him.

"You planned this!  Both of you were in on it."

"Well...kind of," Schanke admitted.  "The guy who was supposed to do it
got sick, so we needed someone else, so, yeah, we kind of...conspired
against you."

"So why don't *you* do it?"

"Because Myra and Jenny will be here, that's why."

"And how old is Jenny now?  Eleven?  Twelve?  I'm sure she already
knows--"

"Sure she does, but you're more...Santa-like.  And besides, you're great
with kids."

"And you do realise that their parents won't be too pleased to have a
vampire playing Santa," he pointed out, even while Natalie started to
drag him, unwillingly and forcefully, toward the building.

"Not to worry.  You'll do just fine.  And you'll have a great time,
you'll see."

"Cohen--"

"Cohen is in on it," Natalie told him.  "She knows we're all here."

"She's actually the one who suggested it," Schanke added.  "Or at least
asked if you'd mind...kind of short notice, and--"

"But, Schanke, I do mind."

"So what?  You're already here, so just...go along with it, okay?
Please?  Who better to play an immortal, supposedly non-real historical
figure, than an immortal, supposedly non-real mythological being with
the same name?  Aren't you from the same century, too?"

"Sorry, Schanke, wrong century."

"Come on, Nick.  All you gotta do is dress up and hand out gifts.
That's it.  It'll take half an hour.  Trust me."

By now, Natalie had dragged him to the door to head inside, but he still
didn't feel even slightly good about this.  It wasn't only from being
ambushed or worried how the others would react, but he hadn't even seen
Schanke's family at all since he had been accidentally outed as a
vampire, let alone the families of any of the other detectives or
officers.  "Natalie--"

"Don't look at me like that.  I *still* think it's a great idea."

He reluctantly nodded and let Natalie and Schanke sneak him inside.  He
really didn't have much of a choice, and at least this would give him a
better idea what his co-workers in general thought about him, even
though it would mostly be their families...but that would merely mean
the backlash might wait a day or two.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Two hours later--so much for the half an hour that Schanke had
promised--Nick was relieved to finally have a chance to get away from
everyone, although it wouldn't be for long.  It hadn't gone too
badly--so far anyway, and the worst was over with--but he hadn't
realised quite how many people came to these things.  It had taken a
while before anyone had figured out he was the one in the red suit, and
then primarily because Natalie kept hanging around him.

Once the two had gotten him dressed and given him a primer on what he
was supposed to do, Schanke had vanished to be with his family.  His
partner's wife and daughter were there, although he had so far only
gotten a glimpse of the two.  Jenny was one year too old to get a gift,
but that just meant she hadn't come up to him so far.

He pulled out a flask, unscrewed the lid, and upended it just long
enough to get a small but relaxing swallow.  However much he disliked
having to depend on blood, it was necessary, especially since he had
been ambushed into doing this.  He was thankful that Natalie had thought
to bring some blood for him, but it wasn't much, just the flask, no
travel mug like she had done before.  That might have been better, but
then...maybe not.  At least no one had to wonder what was in his glass,
and it would also be easier to sneak the flask away once he was done
with it.

"If you're trying to hide, this is a really bad spot.  The bathrooms are
right down the hall."

Nick snapped his attention to the source of the voice, a pre-teen girl.
Jenny.  "I'm not hiding," he said, putting the flask out of sight.

"Yes, you are.  They're okay with it, you know."

"With what?"

"You doing this tonight.  Playing Santa.  And you were really good, too.
Much better than last year's Santa."

"Thanks, but--"

"*Everyone* knows it's you.  With Natalie right there, they couldn't
help but figure it out--the parents, anyway.  Come on, Dad's wondering
where you are..."

Nick pulled back when she grabbed the sleeve of his coat.  "I'll stay
here for now."

"Then I'll stay, too."

"You should go, Jenny."

"Why?  Because you're going to drink more from that flask?  That's okay.
I know it's not alcohol...and even if it was, it wouldn't bother me or
anything like that.  Anyone else who saw it would understand, too.  We
know you can't have anything they serve here, so--"

"All right," Nick said, realising he wasn't going to win an argument
with a twelve year old.  "All right.  Go keep watch for me, then, if
this is such a bad hiding place."

"But--"

"Do it or else go and stay with your father."

Jenny started to protest again, then turned around instead and headed to
a bend in the hallway, where she stood watch.

Nick pulled the flask back out and drank the remainder as quickly as he
could.  He needed it more than ever if he was going to go back out among
everyone.  Parties.  He hated parties, and this one was crowded and
noisy, on top of everything else.  Emptying the container and putting it
back in its hiding place, he reluctantly approached Jenny.  When he came
up next to her, she grabbed his coat again.  This time he didn't pull
away, but followed as far behind her as he could manage.

Mildly curious eyes watched him, but only for a moment before refocusing
on their families and co-workers.  Natalie spotted him and Jenny coming
before his partner or Myra did.  When the latter two saw him, he tensed.
Schanke was holding back from making some joke, and Myra was more tense
than he'd like to see her.  She hadn't seen him in person since long
before all this started, and her uneasiness showed.

"Come on, everyone--nothing awkward about this," Schanke said.  "Just a
vampire in a Santa suit.  No big deal."

Everyone, Nick included, smiled a little at that, but he still felt
uncomfortable about joining them.  "I should probably head back," he
said and started to turn, only to have someone grab his other sleeve.
"Skank..."

"Oh, no you don't.  Cohen said she'd call us if she wants us back early,
so you're staying right here."

In another moment, his partner and Jenny prodded him forward.  He
hesitantly sat down between Schanke and Natalie, then Jenny went around
to sit on the other side of Natalie.

"He was better than last year's Santa, wasn't he?" Jenny asked her
parents.

"Definitely," her father said.  "Although how he got to be so good with
kids..." he added, whispering to his wife.

"Did you have any children?" Myra bluntly asked the vampire.  "I mean
before--"

"I told you he didn't," Schanke said, cutting his wife off.

Myra turned back to her husband.  "Did he tell you that, or did you just
assume because--"

"No, I didn't," Nick said, interrupting her.  "And I'm sure if I had,
the media would have brought it up by now."

"Nick's just...  He's good with people, including children," Natalie
told her.

"Especially if they don't know what I am," Nick quietly conceded.

"But you did have a nephew, and you took care of him for a short time,
right?" Myra asked.  "I think they mentioned that on the news."

"Yes.  His name was Andre."

"Why didn't you--"

"He found out what I was.  I was only his guardian for a few weeks."

"Let me guess, you probably didn't have any trouble with that.  Until
then, of course," Schanke speculated.

"Stop teasing him, Don.  You're good with kids, too."

"Maybe you shouldn't ask him about his past."

"It's all right," Nick assured them.  "I'm just not used to this...being
able to talk about my past, rather than trying to avoid it."

"Hiding, you mean?" Jenny said pointedly.

Nick turned his attention to the young girl, who had stood.  "I'm not
hiding."

"Yes, you are!" she insisted.  "You still haven't even taken off the hat
or that stupid fake beard.  Look, Natalie's not hiding, and you
shouldn't, either."

He was ready for it before it happened.  In seconds she deftly pulled
off the hat and moved the beard so it hung around his neck.

"There, that's better."

Nick didn't feel that way.  Now anyone who hadn't already figured out it
was him in the suit knew, and more eyes found him.  Worse, some of the
gazes lingered, watching him.

"And you know you can always come over for dinner.  You haven't been
over to our place for *months*."

"I still can't come over for dinner, Jenny."

"Sure, you can.  Right, Dad?"

"Fine with me, but--"

"Mom?"

Myra hesitated, looking to Nick, who had stiffened.

"Mom?"

"It's all right with me too, but only if it's something he wants to do.
I'm sure it would be uncomfortable for him; he wouldn't be able to--"

"He's come over before and had a drink with Dad.  He can do that while
we eat.  Or it doesn't really have to be for dinner, you know.  We could
all just sit around and talk or play cards or something--right, Nick?"

"Maybe," he said.  "But--"  Nick stopped, interrupted by Natalie's
pager.  "Leaving?"

"I guess I'll find out; I'll be back," she replied, standing, then she
left.

Nick felt more exposed with her gone, even more so when he realised the
Schankes' eyes were on him.

"But...what?" his partner eventually asked.

"Maybe it should wait.  For things to settle some more."

"I think things have already settled as much as they ever will,
partner."

"I'll...think about it.  I guess I need to--"

"Ask Natalie?" Schanke probed.  "Sure.  No problem.  Of course she could
come too.  We would expect it.  Come on, Nick..."

"Ask me later, all right?" he replied, right as he felt Natalie come up
behind him.  "We leaving?"

"Ah, not you, just me.  And, just so you know, I might be a while."

"Why?"

"Another one of...those...situations," she vaguely answered, leaning
over and whispering so that only Nick could hear.

"The--"

"Don't say it," she said through gritted teeth.  This case bothered her
because all of the victims physically resembled each other...and her.

"Nat?"

"The time between murders suddenly dropped.  The last one was only a
month ago; the others were all closer to two months.  Maybe someone will
find something this time.  See you later."

Nick snatched her arm before she could stand, but it was clear in her
eyes she just wanted to leave and get this over with.  He smiled and
kissed her cheek.  "Don't let it bother you too much, Nat."

She managed a half-smile, then left as she had planned.

"So...just Natalie?" Schanke asked.

"Yeah, just Natalie."

"But?  Something's up."

"It's a repeat."

"Not the--"

"Don't."

"Don't what?" Jenny asked, causing the two to look at her.

"It's work, Jenny," he consoled his daughter; he already had
confirmation from his partner.  Everyone had heard about the recent
serial murders, although he really didn't know much about the case
except that all the victims had at least a passing resemblance to
Natalie.  "Go get some more cake."

Nick felt uncomfortable, watching Jenny shrink back a bit and then
leave.  And Myra was scowling at her husband, probably about the extra
cake.  It was clear both his partner and Jenny had already had some,
judging by the empty paper plates in the middle of the table.

"Myra..."

"Another slice of cake?"  Somehow Myra managed to add a tone of
disapproval to the question.

"Why not?  It's not gonna kill me."

"Then what were you two talking about?"

"It's..." Schanke started, but glanced uncomfortably away.

"It's another detective's case--a serial killer," Nick answered.  Not
wanting to say too much, he told her, "And all of the victims look
vaguely like Natalie.  Some more than others, of course.  I think this
will be the fourth.  The first was during the summer.  It's hard for
her."

"Is it even harder for her now?"

Nick locked his gaze directly on Myra at the question.

"Don already told me she's like you."

Now Schanke became uncomfortable as his partner's eyes zoned in on him.
"I had to; Jenny figured it out even before the news did.  How, I don't
know, but she did."

"It's...harder for her to do her job now, but she's doing okay.  Her job
is tough enough, but now with this case, she's just a little...  It
bothers her; it would bother anyone."

Myra nodded, stopping when Jenny arrived back at the table, with two
plates with cake on it.  "Would you come over if we asked?  Both of you,
of course."

"We'd...consider it, but like I said, I think it would be better if
things settled a little more, and not only after a couple of weeks."

"That's all we're asking, right, Don?  We only want you to consider it."

Schanke nodded.

"Yeah, we'll consider it," Nick repeated.

"Good.  I'm sure Sydney misses you and Natalie," Jenny said.

Nick had to force a smile at that.  Sydney had never liked him
much...and hadn't seen Natalie at all since she had become a vampire.
It made him want to put this off as long as possible.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (090/111)

As the end of the year approached, Nick felt things were moving
fast--too fast.  A week had already passed since he had been ambushed
into handing out gifts, dressed as Father Christmas.  That hadn't gone
nearly as badly as it could have, but the White Knight, Black Knight
comments had started up again.

It wasn't as bad as when he was just 'kicked out of the coffin', as
Schanke would probably word it--then realise he didn't have a
coffin--but he hadn't realised how little people had commented
recently...until it started up again.  On the other hand, even with the
comments, people were being nicer to him--much nicer.  It was almost
like before, when he had been, as far as anyone knew, mortal.

Briggs was still there, and would be for at least a few more weeks.
Tracy was subbing at another precinct, although Nick had heard from
Schanke, through some of his connections with the day shift, that she
would indeed be permanently assigned to the 96th, unless another spot
opened up before Briggs transferred out.  Briggs was transferring out of
the city--out of the province, actually.

His and Natalie's wedding plans were far more finalised than he wanted
them to be.  Only three more days.  LaCroix had arranged everything for
early evening on the first of the year.  They had the rings now, but
neither of them had decided yet what to wear.  As an added complication,
they both had to work that night, too.

Nick looked up at Schanke, who seemed to be having some trouble with his
computer.  That was another issue--he hadn't told Schanke or anyone else
when they were to get married.  And he and Natalie were reconsidering
whether to ask him.  Janette was coming, and counting themselves and
LaCroix, that made four vampires.  Schanke wasn't the most comfortable
around vampires, and he wasn't sure his partner would even want to come,
given those odds.

"What?"

Nick abruptly glanced down at his desk.

"It looked like you wanted to ask something, Knight."

"I--"  He did want to ask, but...  "Would you want to come to something,
a small gathering, where you were the only mortal guest?" he rather
bluntly--but vaguely--asked.

"I don't know, I guess it'd depend on what the 'something' was.  I mean
I certainly don't want to be the main course."  He paused, then his mind
slowly realised what his partner was asking.  "Wait--is this 'something'
Natalie and your--"

"Yes," he hissed low, which caused Schanke to stop and think.

"Well, I guess the next question is how many of you guys will be there?
Besides you and Natalie, I mean."

"Only LaCroix and Janette, that's all.  It'll be very short and simple.
If you don't come, that's fine.  We'll understand."

"So it's all set, then?"

"Yeah, everything's set," Nick said with a nod and a half-smile.

"When?"

"Monday."

"Monday?  This Monday?  New Year's Day?"

"Yeah."

Schanke narrowed his eyes and shook his head.  "You do know we have to
work, right?"

"I know."

"But, but...we work that day!  You're supposed to get married while
you're--I don't know, on vacation, or a weekend, or a night off, not--"

"Schanke!"

"I knew you were off your rocker, Knight.  Way off, apparently."

Nick smiled, despite the comment.  "Doing it on a work night draws the
least attention.  Besides, we don't need a honeymoon, Skank, and we
don't really want anyone to know right away."

"But they will, won't they?  Or is Natalie keeping her last name, and--"

"No, she's changing it.  And yeah, the news'll spread fast enough on its
own.  Nothing about me stays secret for long.  Even if I want it to."

"So...Monday night?"

"Yeah, a little after sunset."

"And where--"

"The Raven."

"Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just yourself."

"Do I dress up, or...  I don't know.  What are vampire weddings like,
anyway?"

"Just wear a nice suit like what you'd wear to court or something--but
definitely not that one."

Schanke glanced down at his brown tweed jacket and light blue shirt.  He
supposed he couldn't argue with that.

"And vampire weddings are fairly normal, that I'm aware.  It'll just be
a small ceremony, not much more than if we did it at the courthouse."

"Small or not, it's still important, isn't it?  Making everything all
official, I mean."

Nick nodded.  Big or small, it still meant a lot to him.  And Natalie,
too.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Schanke tried his best to be unobtrusive during the ceremony, which
lasted all of fifteen minutes.  It hadn't worked well, as he had been
one of the official witnesses, along with LaCroix.  That had been Nick's
insistence.

Both Nick and Natalie had been surprised by how wonderfully things had
been arranged.  The Raven had been somewhat brightened up, with some of
the decor covered with curtains and white roses, rose buds, and other
flowers in various places.  Nick had been semi-upset by the white roses
and rose buds; he knew LaCroix was fond of them--and why.  But the
overall effect had been appropriate and pleasant, wonderful even.  He
had worn a poet's shirt and black dress pants, and Natalie had worn a
simple, long and sleeveless, white lacy dress.  They were dressed more
for spring or summer, not the middle of winter, but they didn't care.

LaCroix had arranged not only for someone to officiate--a non-religious
ceremony, of course--but also for someone to take a few pictures and
videotape their vows.  Neither of those had been specified on their
list, and while Nick wasn't surprised by the first--LaCroix rather
disliked religious ceremonies of any kind, regardless of the religion or
the purpose of the ceremony--he was quite surprised by the second.  His
sire had also been all but outright cheerful, which--to be honest--if he
had, it would have dampened the near perfection of the evening.

Both the officiator and the photographer were vampires, although they
dressed and acted normal enough that Schanke didn't notice or even ask.
That had made the occasion even better.  Schanke did well enough around
his partner, Natalie, Janette, and even LaCroix, but to find he was the
sole mortal among six vampires probably would have made him downright
nervous.

It had started snowing once again by the time the short ceremony
finished, and Janette had insisted they take more pictures outside in
front of the club.  Natalie hadn't been overly thrilled; while vampires
didn't feel the cold as acutely, the air was below freezing and the
flakes were large and wet.  Nick, however, understood why Janette seemed
so thrilled.  Pictures were a relatively new invention, and she knew
they'd like having their sense of joy from the moment forever
immortalised.

Now, several hours later, Nick sat at his desk, his mood slightly
diminished.  He smiled oddly at nothing in particular across the room
and fiddled with the ring now on his left ring finger.  He didn't even
notice Schanke staring at him, nor when Natalie came up behind him.

"Don't wear it out, Nick."

He sat up and turned in his chair a little at Natalie's voice.  "I
won't; I'm still getting used to it."

"The ring...or the engraving?"

"Engraving?" Schanke asked, interested.

Nick hesitated.  He hadn't even told or shown LaCroix or Janette what he
had added to their otherwise very plain bands.

"Go on, Nick.  Show him," Natalie said, nudging him in the shoulder.
"It was a surprise.  I guess that's what I get for asking."

He somewhat reluctantly pulled off his ring and passed it to his
partner.

Schanke read the inside, muttering, "Forever.  Love, Nat," before
passing it back.  "And I guess forever is a bit more than a lifetime
with you guys."

"If Natalie doesn't get sick of me by then," Nick said with a glance
toward Natalie as he slid the ring back on, already having the urge to
fiddle with it again.  He earned another gentle shove to his shoulder
for the quip.

"Or if you lose that.  They go nuts when you lose it," Schanke said
rather matter-of-factly, but not quietly enough for only his partner to
hear.  They both stared at him like he was nuts.  "It only took me three
weeks, all right?  It was awful.  I thought Myra was gonna kill me for
sure," he admitted, abashed, but quickly changed the subject, asking,
"So, Natalie, are you still Dr. Lambert, Dr. Knight, or--"

"It's Knight," she quickly said before Schanke could continue.  "For
now, anyway."  Then she leaned over so she could talk solely to Nick.
"He wants us to come over to the club some night within the next week."

Nick tensed at that; he had been wondering when LaCroix would want to
see them again, especially Natalie.  And for what purpose.  What new
lesson awaited his newest child?  The question unnerved both of them.

"We can decide when in the morning, or if you want, we can drop by on
your break," she added.

"Both of us or just you?" he whispered so only she could hear.

"Both of us.  And no, he didn't specify what for, but I think it's for
something like last time."

Nick's thoughts became distracted when she kissed him on the lips.  He
heard a muttered parting greeting, and then she was gone.

"So is Nat's ring like yours?"

"Yeah, it's engraved, too."

"How much did that set you back?"

His interest suddenly piqued, Nick looked at his partner, raising an
eyebrow.  "Thinking of an anniversary present for Myra?"

"Just wondering..."

"Not much."

"Not much for you, or not much for me?" the mortal asked, eyes narrowed,
recalling how his partner's ring had felt--heavy, with smooth edges.
Expensive.

"Depends on how long a message you want--cost was by the letter.  It
didn't cost that much, Skank."  He pulled out his notebook and quickly
wrote down the name and address of the jeweller he had used.  "Here, you
can see for yourself," he said, ripping the piece of paper out and
passing it across the desks to his partner.

Schanke took it somewhat reluctantly, and after a quick glance, he
folded it and tucked it in a pocket.  "So...Natalie Knight, then?"

"For now."  He turned away and tried to get back to work.  It was
difficult now, between the events from earlier that evening, the
knowledge that LaCroix had something else planned, and Natalie's quick
kiss.  He smiled, his worries--for now--barely of concern.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (091/111)

Nick and Natalie had stalled as long as they could in going over to the
Raven--a full week.  They were both scheduled to work that night again,
something Natalie had suggested.  If they both had to be at work, it was
less likely they'd get stuck at the Raven.

"Remember, you're choosing if he wants me to feed from someone again,"
she said harshly, almost snapping at Nick.  "And if he wants me to
'kill' someone this time...ask if it can be him.  Otherwise I don't want
to see anyone dead or even unconscious this go-around.  And that means I
want you close enough to stop me."

Nick nodded.  They had already gone through all of this.  "And if you
want to refuse whatever he has planned--"

"Then I'll do so."  They paused outside the closed front doors.  "Will
he ever stop pushing?  Or do I already know the answer to that?"

He smiled rather weakly, then pulled the doors to the club open.  Within
seconds they were on their way to the bar, where LaCroix stood, watching
them.

"Took you long enough, Nicholas."

"We came when we said we would," he replied, pulling Natalie tightly
against his side.

LaCroix barely managed to repress a sneer, and let his gaze turn out
into the club.

"Why did you want us to come?"

"The same as before," he said, not turning.  "Wait in the basement
again."

"No," Natalie forced herself to say.

"No?" LaCroix' eyes narrowed slightly at the unexpected challenge.

"If you want me to...feed from someone," she whispered, "then Nick picks
the target, not you."

LaCroix at first stiffened at her apparent reluctance, then he grinned.
That was almost better.  It would certainly provide more
entertainment...for him anyway.  "Then wait for us in the basement,
Natalie."  After his daughter left, he turned his gaze on his son.  "I
am rather surprised you have not objected."

"We already discussed it."

"Discussed?  But did you agree, or are you merely going along with your
wife?"  He waited, his eyes again drifting out into the club.  "Well,
you heard her, Nicholas.  Choose someone."

Nick didn't look away from his sire.  "What is the plan?  Exactly?  Do
you want her to kill...or just feed?"

"The latter.  Killing is, regrettably, rather dangerous.  If she does,
however..."

"She can't stop on her own, LaCroix, and you know it.  Don't make her
kill.  Last time, if she had not--"

"Of course she cannot stop.  She is like you, like Janette.  She enjoys
feeding from their life-force too much...and after the first taste, that
first drop..."

Nick closed his eyes.  LaCroix was right.  That first drop was what
always caught him and made him lose control.

"Make your selection, Nicholas."

He turned toward those attending the club that night, those dancing,
drinking, smiling and seducing.  At first his eyes locked on other
vampires, or those mortals who wanted to risk their lives, many of whom
had visible bite marks.  Nick passed them over, searching for someone
normal, average, someone who hadn't been repeatedly fed from and
weakened, and someone who wouldn't push Natalie, wouldn't try to entice
her further.  Eventually his eyes settled on a mortal woman in her
mid-twenties who wore a long black skirt and a royal blue tank, her hair
a rather cool, silvery brown.

"Interesting choice.  Now...go wait with Natalie."

Nick looked sharply to LaCroix, who seemed quite pleased--too pleased.
"Make sure she's not a resistor," he reminded his sire, then did as
instructed, heading to the basement where Natalie stood nervously
waiting.

"Nat?"

"I'm okay," she said, but her arms were crossed and she slowly paced.

"You don't look--"

"I'm afraid he'll want me to kill."

He stopped her pacing by grabbing both of her arms.  "I won't let you.
I won't let him make you kill anyone, certainly not tonight."

Her eyes darted toward the stairs upon hearing heeled shoes on the
steps.

"All right, Natalie?"

She turned back to Nick and nodded.  She trusted him completely, and let
him turn her and pull her body back against him.  Watching a young woman
walk down the stairs, seemingly in a trance, LaCroix right behind her,
she again felt her nerves rising.  The young woman appeared rather
plain, normal--not a Goth or vampire-wannabe, like the man had been.

"She is very pliable," LaCroix whispered, then he walked around the
woman, eventually coming to a stop in front of her.  "I think she should
know where she is.  *Awake, my dear.  And see your new...friends.*"

The mortal abruptly became aware of her surroundings, and she backed
away from the vampire.

"Tonight will be a new sensation."  When the mortal started for the
stairs, LaCroix flew forward and blocked her path, grinning
sadistically.

Nick tensed.  Now he understood why he wanted Natalie to do this more
than once, and why his sire had appeared so inordinately pleased.  She
was to taste fear tonight.  Fear could be almost or sometimes even more
seductive than the blood of a willing victim.  The mortal had begun to
pace, futilely wishing for a way out.

"Go on, my daughter.  Take her."

"No, please..." the woman said, backing up against a row of bottles.
Her pulse raced as she realised what was in store for her.

Natalie stared forward at the woman, holding onto Nick's solid arms that
encircled her.  She had no desire to do this.  Not really.  She glanced
toward LaCroix, who seemed more insane than usual; he was grinning
insidiously at her like a Cheshire cat.  He was enjoying this to the
point it nearly made her sick.

"Nat, if--"

She pushed Nick's hands away from her, her action stopping his protest,
his almost assured suggestion that she didn't have to do this.  And she
didn't, but she could understand LaCroix' reasons.  Vaguely.  He wanted
her to know what it was like to feed from mortals in various emotional
states.  She knew from taking Nick's blood that it was different, the
flavour of his blood varied, depending on what mood he was in.  The last
couple of weeks, with things settling down again, Nick's blood tasted
like some drug that had no ill after-effects--literally intoxicating.

This mortal, on the other hand, was understandably terrified, her heart
beating so very fast in sheer panic.  It reminded her of the slight
thrill she felt from her co-workers and the detectives at crime scenes,
but so much more intense.  Did fear taste better than excitement?  Would
it be even harder to stop, harder for Nick to stop her?  As she
considered her quandary, she had walked directly up to the woman, who
was whimpering, begging for her life.

Nick mirrored Natalie as she approached the woman, then stiffened upon
feeling a hand on his shoulder.  He spun and hissed at his maker, baring
his fangs and pushing the other man's hand away.  LaCroix grinned,
laughing quietly at him.  He wasn't pleased that LaCroix seemed thrilled
by his reaction; but he would not let his sire hold him back from
Natalie.  He tried to regain control but failed, the mortal's heart
pulling him closer until he had come up right behind her, where he
whispered in her ear, "I'm right here, Natalie.  It will be fine."

Feeling Nick's lips brush against her ear, Natalie couldn't take it any
longer and she pushed the woman against the bottles and bit her deeply
in the neck.  The woman screamed, her air-stripping yell quickly turning
to sobs as the woman tried futilely to push her away.  The mortal's
racing heart brought her adrenaline-filled blood to her mouth so very
quickly, and Natalie gladly took it.

Momentarily she felt someone pulling her back, but she kept feeding,
drinking the wonderfully terrified blood until she was forcefully pulled
away by a hand around her neck.  Angry, she instinctively bared her
fangs at Nick, but in a moment, he kissed her and her fury was
forgotten, displaced by an equally powerful, yet completely different
emotion.  She hungrily kissed Nick back, turning him and pushing him
backwards into the row of bottles, even as the woman collapsed to the
floor, still weeping from the attack.  The next thing she knew, she had
sunk her fangs into Nick's neck and eagerly drank his cooler,
deeply-loving blood.

LaCroix watched.  His son took on a look of pure rapture as his sister
and lover blissfully fed from him.  The only thing that broke the mood
was the pathetic mortal's sobs and her clawing at the floor in an
attempt to stand and flee, which she couldn't do because he was in her
way.  When the woman nearly stood, LaCroix turned away from his children
and pushed her back onto the floor.  By the time he looked back, Natalie
had stopped feeding from her brother, and they both obviously wanted
more than just one another's blood.  Before they could kiss again, he
pulled Natalie back away from her lover.  His daughter glared back at
him, delightfully feral, and he touched her bloodied lips and tasted the
blood--his son's blood, mostly, with a touch of terror from the mortal.
Turning to his son, whose eyes were closed in exhaustion, he instructed,
"Have Natalie tie up the loose ends this time," and pulled out of a
pocket a thin, black scarf, which he handed to his son.  "This might be
useful."

Nick took the thin, almost see-through fabric and watched LaCroix leave.
Then his eyes fell on the mortal.  Still conscious, the woman stared up
at the two vampires in horror, fully expecting to die in the next few
seconds.  Turning to Natalie, he saw that she, too, was afraid, even as
a couple of drops of blood dribbled down from the corner of her mouth to
her jaw.  He reached his free hand up and wiped the blood away.  He
licked the blood off his fingers and watched her attention snap from the
woman to him.

"What do I need to do?"

"Get her attention and calm her down," he whispered.  "The wound
needs...it needs attention."

Natalie's eyes locked onto the bloody wound, and she nodded slightly in
an attempt to focus.  She now had to fix whatever she had done.

Nick lightly put a hand on her shoulder.  "Will you be all right for a
moment?"  Then, seeing her begin to panic, he whispered, "If LaCroix is
using the basement for...this purpose, there must be some towels or
other cleaning materials down here."

Natalie tried to calm herself again, forcing her fangs to retract and
her vision to return to normal.  Then she told him, "Yeah, I think I saw
some earlier, but...keep an eye on me for a moment."  Getting a nod, she
reluctantly moved closer to the woman, who scooted away from her on the
floor and tried to stand up.  She glanced back at Nick, who had moved
away but still watched her, then turned toward the woman--her victim.

"Please don't kill me.  I don't want to die.  Please..."

Natalie felt sick to her stomach.  She wanted to assure the woman she
wasn't going to kill her--she honestly didn't plan to--but doubted any
assurance from her would be remotely comforting.  She also had to make
her forget this incident, yet felt rather unsure of her new abilities
when it came to making someone forget a specific event, a specific
moment like she needed to do now.

"Please, no..."

She moved ever closer, keeping her gaze locked with the woman's.  When
the mortal stood, then tried to dart around her, Natalie stopped her,
grabbing her arms.  Not knowing quite what to say, yet knowing she
needed to somehow keep her still, Natalie commanded the woman to do the
only thing she could think of, saying, "*Sleep now, just for a moment.*"

"Sleep?" the woman asked, half-confused and half-drowsing off.

"*Yes.  Sleep,*" Natalie said a bit more confidently.  The extra
confidence seemed to be the key.  She held onto the woman's arms as she
literally passed out, then slowly lowered the mortal to the ground.

"I thought you didn't want to see anyone unconscious this--" Nick
reminded her.

"I didn't!" she retorted, straightened up, and spun around.  "But what
else was I supposed to do?  Besides, it'll be easier to deal with her
wound this way."  Then she realised he had likely intended his comment
to be only teasing, and she apologised, "I'm sorry.  I'm just...  The
last few minutes have been a world-class emotional roller-coaster."
Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath, trying to relax once again.

"Here, I'll help you," Nick suggested.  "I don't think she's going
anywhere for the moment."

They spent the next few minutes finding oddly convenient supplies in a
cabinet.  There was even a battery operated black light, although it was
of a slightly different design than the ones with which vampires were
officially tested.  Natalie used the supplies to clean and then
eradicate any of her DNA from around the woman's wound.  Then Nick
carefully tied the thin scarf around her neck so that it obscured the
jagged punctures...at least for the time being.  Next, Natalie cleaned
up some of the blood on Nick's neck, although the collar of his white
shirt was now stained.  The woman's clothes had been spared somehow,
which was probably a good thing.

Before Natalie woke the woman up, Nick gave her directions, suggestions
on what to say.  Telling a mortal to merely 'forget' wouldn't be
sufficient, like it had been to get her to sleep.  She had to forget
seeing either of them, seeing LaCroix, being at the Raven and being in
the club's basement, and then finally--but especially--being attacked by
a vampire.  Obviously she'd figure out the last on her own at some point
after she arrived home, but the rest would help safeguard the details.

As LaCroix had said upon bringing her down, Natalie found the woman's
mind extremely pliable.  Waking her up, she had easily been able to keep
her from panicking once again or, worse, screaming in fright.  Once she
had gotten approval from Nick, they took her back up to the club and
told her to go home.  They stayed out of sight for a couple of minutes
after the woman had left, then they too started for the exit, only to be
stopped by LaCroix.

Nick glared at his sire.  He wanted to leave in order to feed and he
also needed to change his shirt.  He tried to guide Natalie around
LaCroix, but the other man took him by the arm and pulled him toward the
bar.  Weak from blood loss, he couldn't push the hand away, although he
tried.  "LaCroix--"

"Fresh, or...not fresh?"

Nick stared, his eyes locking onto two glasses on the counter.  It was
easy to tell which was which, solely by scent.  Even by appearance it
was clear the glass that was only half-full contained the fresher
blood--it looked as though someone had been bled out into it.

"I know you'll have...something...either here or at your home...  Pick
one, or pick both."

Zoning in on the fresh blood in his weakened state, Nick walked slowly
toward it and wrapped his hand around the glass.  The blood was
warm...not quite human body temperature, but so very close.  It hadn't
been away from its owner for long--mere minutes, if he had to guess.
"Whose blood is it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, LaCroix, it matters."

"He is still alive, if that is what you wish to know," LaCroix replied,
but his son glared at him.  "A random mortal's.  I had intended to
indulge a bit myself, but after your dear sister nearly drained you dry,
I thought I would offer it to you instead.  I neither ask nor expect you
drink it.  The choice is...entirely yours."

Nick turned back to the glass, staring into the aromatic liquid as he
thought, considering.  Believing LaCroix was telling the truth, he
raised it and took a long drink.  He closed his eyes as the mortal's
life, his very essence, washed over him, through him.  He turned and his
gaze locked on a rather young man dancing near the stage, and then, to
blot out the sight, he downed the remainder of the glass.  He also drank
the other glass, the cold blood dulling the sweet warmth and potent
vitality of the first.  At least that would save him a little time; he
still needed to change his shirt before going to work.  Seeing LaCroix'
pleasure at watching him, he put the glass back and looked away,
returning to Natalie and walking her toward the entrance.

"I'm sorry, Nick," she said once they came to a halt, alone, on the
sidewalk, the door shutting behind them.

"Why?  You didn't do anything wrong."

"That's debatable, given the past few minutes."

"You didn't make me drink that glass."

Natalie pursed her lips, pulled out of his hold, and turned to face him.
"I drained you almost until you passed out."  He smiled at her.  "And
you enjoyed that, didn't you?"  When he grinned a bit more, she gave his
shoulder a whack.  Then both their moods fizzled at the same moment.
"Would I have, ah, killed her?" she whispered, suddenly serious, wanting
to know, yet...not.

Nick ever so slightly nodded, not wanting to voice it aloud.  Yes,
Natalie would have killed the woman she had more or less attacked.

"Especially since she was so scared, right?"  She got another nod.  "I
could feel that I wanted to...make her be quiet somehow."

"Instinct," he whispered back.  "Self-preservation.  And along those
lines, we shouldn't talk about this here.  Come on," he said, and guided
Natalie down the street, where they took off for home after turning into
a deserted alleyway.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (092/111)

Natalie was so shocked upon entering her office at work that if she were
still mortal, she'd be dead.  There, sitting opposite her chair at the
desk, was FBI Special Agent Cassandra Gale.  After what she had just
been through at the Raven, this woman was one of the last people she
wanted to see.

"Dr. Lambert, I was expecting you a few minutes ago."

Natalie tensed.  She knew she had arrived a little late for work, but it
was only two or three minutes.  Upon going home, she and Nick had gotten
a bit...distracted...before he had been able to change.  He would be
even later to work than she was; his shift had started earlier.  "And
you are here for...?"

"I was also expecting Detective Knight to come," Agent Gale said,
turning slightly in her chair.  "His Captain tried to call him.
Apparently he was late for his shift."

"If you need to talk to Nick--"

"He will come here; Cohen will tell him to do so."

Natalie set her jaw and headed to her desk, where she set her purse and
coat down.  She disliked this woman immensely.

"What I have to discuss with him requires a great deal of privacy."

"There are plenty of places to talk in private at the precinct."

Agent Gale nodded at that.  "I know, but I do not want to be seen there,
not at the moment.  I hope that Detective Knight will be here soon.  I
remember him mentioning that you live with him..."

Natalie ignored the comment, instead asking, "And what do you need to
talk to him about?"

"Just a question.  More of a proposition, really."

"About?"

"If he'd be willing to work on a special project."

"Ask someone else," she said with a glare, and almost a hint of command.

"Don't even try to get me to leave, Doctor.  It won't work.  Besides,
this is far more for the benefit of your own kind than for us."

"Really?" Natalie challenged.  "If it's so much of a benefit, then tell
me."

The mortal shook her head.  "It's complicated, and I'd much rather wait
for him to join us than have to explain it twice."

Natalie ended up sitting down and staring across at her uninvited guest
for the next five minutes.  Finally Nick arrived, looking even more
upset than she felt.

"Ah, good.  You managed to join us."

He approached, his eyes boring into the mortal.  "It wasn't my choice;
Cohen sent me over, but she didn't tell me you were here."

"She wasn't supposed to," Agent Gale said, not reacting in the slightest
to either vampire's pure annoyance.  "I'm here to ask if you would be
willing to go on what might best be described as an undercover mission."
Now, finally, she became uncomfortable and shifted positions.  "It would
be anything but pleasant, that much is certain, but there are few
vampires we are aware of who would even be approachable for something
like this, and as a detective, I'm sure you're already familiar with
undercover work."

"Haven't you watched the news lately?"

"Intently."

"I'm too well-known to go undercover."

"Not for this, you're not.  In fact, it makes you an excellent choice."

"Why?  And what kind of assignment is this?"

"To make you a criminal," Agent Gale said very evenly.  "Your past is
already rather controversial, even questionable, and we know for a fact
that your kind still kill my kind.  Considering your age, the public
almost expects that you would be one of the ones who have continued to
do so."

Nick tensed.  He actually had killed recently, and her comments were
hitting a bit too close to home.

"The assignment would be in one of the new prisons for your kind."

"Find someone else," Natalie interrupted, definitely not liking the dark
turn of this conversation.

"Nat--" Nick stopped; he could see her panic, but he wanted to know
more.  "I want to hear the rest.  And why it has to be one of us."

Agent Gale took a deep breath then explained, "We have been tipped off
that the vampires imprisoned are essentially being tortured.  Some are
even being killed."

Nick stiffened again, turning away even as the agent continued to speak.

"But we have no proof, no hard evidence, since vampires heal from
injuries with no physical scars or other...I suppose you would say
measurable aftereffects.  And when you die...  Again, no evidence."

"Why can't you enlist an employee who works there?" Natalie suggested.

"We have, but it doesn't work for long.  Those who dislike their job
have a tendency to change their minds about working there and we lose
them.  At this point, we only have one individual passing us
information, but we need actual proof of what is happening.  We can get
a camera in, using this person, but--"

"You need a camera in whatever cell the vampire is kept in," Nick
finished, realising why they might need cooperation.

"Exactly.  And we've tried, but the prisoner eventually found and
destroyed the device...to shut off the noise.  They were pretty vocal
about it, too.  Which, as you can guess, created other problems.  So we
can't try again unless we know any additional cameras or recording
devices will be left alone."

"Won't they suspect something?" Nick asked, turning back around.  "I'm
not exactly the typical vampire."

"That is why we have to discuss this here."  Agent Gale paused, leaning
back in her chair.  "And no, you are definitely not a typical vampire,
not by everything I've seen.  However, you are one of the oldest
vampires who have made the news, and the public is also aware that an
even older, downright murderous vampire made you, so they can't help but
speculate on exactly how much you might be like Lucien LaCroix.  To
succeed at this, everyone must think you have killed--recently--and I
think it is possible to set something up to make the public believe it.
About all you'll have to do is look at your co-workers and your guards
the way you're looking at me right now; they'll recognise how dangerous
you are."

"Why don't you use LaCroix?  Sounds like he would be a better choice,"
Nick suggested.

Agent Gale smiled.  "Not very loyal, are you?"  When her comment drew no
response, her smile faded a little and she more seriously said,
"Because, for one, I do not believe he would agree.  For another, we
need someone who can pull off a long stretch of undercover work,
something I suspect he knows little about.  Most of all, you cannot
break, regardless of what they do to you, and that means you cannot go
on a killing spree once you are inside.  At all times you must remain in
enough control not to harm anyone.  And from that alone you can
understand why LaCroix would be unsuitable."

"Agreed, but is that really...likely?" Natalie asked.

"Suffice it to say that working in these prisons has become the job with
the world's highest mortality rate; vampires do not react well to being
put in cages," Agent Gale said matter-of-factly.  "And, before you ask,
you're right, the prisoners also don't fare the best in that regard, but
for the most part, it's little worse than mortal prisoners in regular
prisons.  Fortunately--or unfortunately--vampires are extremely
resilient...as I am sure you are both very aware."

"You didn't answer my question," Natalie noted, glaring at the agent.

"Yes, it has happened.  And I'm not sure I agree with increasing
punishments over it.  After all, we believe those who have harmed or
killed employees at the prison had been tortured or deliberately
provoked."

Natalie moved out from behind her desk, walking around it until she was
looking down on the agent.  "Nick isn't going to be your--"  She stopped
suddenly, feeling a hand on her arm.

"I don't have to decide right now, correct?" Nick asked.

"No, you do not.  In fact, I need to leave so that you can get back to
work without drawing suspicion."  Agent Gale stood and picked up a file
off of Natalie's desk, which she handed to Nick.  "This has more details
regarding what we need you to do, and what they might subject you to."

Nick didn't take the file, but instead eyed it nervously.

"Will you at least consider doing this?  Just consider it, that's all
I'm asking."

Taking the file, his eyes followed Agent Gale as she left the room.

"Nick, you can't do this," Natalie said once the doors had closed and
they were alone.

"Yes, I can."

"Nick--"

"Please, Natalie, I want to at least consider it."  He could see her
hesitate, want to refuse his request.  "For now, I only want to think
about it, maybe ask more questions, get some more information.  Who else
could they find who might be willing to do this?  Moreover, who else
could they find that has the *intention* not to hurt anyone, regardless
of what was done to them?  She came to me for a reason."

"No one should have to do it, Nick.  Certainly not you."  She pursed her
lips, then guessed, "Not even if you think you deserve it."

He turned away at that, but Natalie stopped him, grabbing his arms.  She
knew him too well; yes, he did think he deserved it.

"If you really think someone needs to do it, see if I can."  Natalie
watched Nick instantly become as worried as she.  "See how it feels?"
she asked before he could protest.  "I don't want you to be injured
or--"  She couldn't bring herself to complete the sentence.

"Killed?" he suggested.  "It sounds like that would be unlikely."

"I just...I don't like the sound of it."

Nick nodded.  He didn't like it, either.  He glanced down at the file,
which he still barely had a hold of.  "Let's at least look at what she
gave us.  We can talk more either later tonight or in the morning."

Natalie let go of Nick, took the folder, and walked over to the counter.
She didn't want him to consider this at all.  Suddenly she felt hands
wrap around her waist, and a chin hook over her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Nat.  I'm not going to rush into something like this.  If
it looks too dangerous, my answer will be no.  I might not be opposed to
pain, but I am to dying.  I want to stay right here.  With you."

Natalie smiled, although only slightly.  "Well, that last I think will
be a problem.  How did Cohen take you being late?"

"Schanke and I both have an extra shift to make up," he admitted.

"Hmm, that well?"

Nick shrugged and grinned at her.  "It's the first one I've had to do in
a long time--it's Schanke's fifth or sixth, I think.  He's making a big
deal about it, of course, but I think he's glad it's not just him this
time."

He closed his eyes and held Natalie a little more snugly.  "Cohen knows
we're married.   She sorta asked if that's why I was late.  I don't know
when she found out or figured it out."

"That's okay.  The whole building here knows, too.  Forensics techs
notice details, all right."

Nick smiled at that, but then he tensed.  Between mentioning his partner
and what Agent Gale had said to him, Nick's thoughts had shifted again
and he admitted, "By the way, I still haven't told Schanke what I did."

"What *we* did, Nick; I killed someone, too," she reminded him.  "And
I've fed from two people since then, and very nearly killed both of
them."

"I won't tell him you--"

"If you tell him what you did, then you tell him what I did."  She
pushed his arms away enough that she could turn around.  "If he deserves
to know you've killed, then he deserves to know I have as well.  I am
not an innocent.  I know exactly what I did...and I know that you only
killed to spare me from killing twice in the span of minutes, and that
what we did bothers you more than it does me.  If one of us should be
locked up for a bit to have some sense knocked into them, it's me, not
you.  If this mission sounds safe enough--"

He shook his head.  "No, Nat, you don't know what it's like--  I have
been tortured before.  Both as a mortal and as a vampire.  And I've also
purposely put myself through pain in my attempts to become mortal.  I
know what to expect and how I'll react.  You'd--"  He stopped again,
bowing his head slightly.  "You'd be running on instinct, and--"

Natalie sighed in resignation as she realised the one huge flaw in her
idea.  Whether from his age or his experience, or a combination of both,
Nick had far more self-control than she did.  "And I'd panic and kill
someone or multiple someones, while I tried to escape."

Nodding, he leaned forward and kissed Natalie on the forehead.  "If
they're really being tortured..."

"It's probably a bad idea for me to volunteer.  Yeah, I get it."  She
sighed, nodded, then waved the file folder.  "But maybe this'll give us
some specifics.  I mean, what one person considers torture isn't
necessarily the same for another."

"Look it over and give me your impression later tonight, okay?"  He took
a step back, preparing to leave, then paused.  "Did Agent Gale notice?
Did she realise we're married?"

"Well, she called me Dr. Lambert--not that that means much, but she
didn't ask or make any comments, so I'd guess that she didn't."

Nick gave another nod, then left, wondering what to do.  Should he say
something to Schanke?  Should he blow off work for a bit and tell
LaCroix?



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (093/111)

In the end, Nick did nothing, not until he and Natalie had time to
analyse the pitiful amount of information contained in the file.
Literally it was nothing more than a very vague description of what the
'cell' would be like, and a short list of various things that were
suspected to have been done to the prisoners.  There was no mention of
where the prison was, or exactly how they would transport him there.
The name and/or position of whoever they had on the inside was also
withheld--they were only referred to as 'they', not even by 'he' or
'she'.  Both Nick and Natalie came to the same conclusion--they needed
more information.  And if they couldn't get it, Nick would refuse.

Nick had asked Cohen for the agent's contact information for that
purpose, but had no luck there.  And Agent Gale hadn't come back by the
morgue, not even when the end of the week rolled along.

It had now been a little over four days, and Nick and Natalie sat
together on the couch, music running in the background, the blinds still
partly open, despite that the sun had already risen.

Nick shut his eyes in annoyance when the buzzer rang.  He wasn't overly
surprised; he was overdue from a visit from his partner, and Schanke had
an annoying habit of coming at odd hours, usually when the sun was up.

Getting up, Nick walked over to let his partner in, only to see a
blonde-haired woman on the security monitor.  Special Agent Cassandra
Gale.  He was glad he had checked the screen before letting her up,
but... "Damn it," he groaned.

"What is it?" Natalie asked, sitting up and putting her breakfast on the
coffee table.

He glared at the monitor, then it buzzed again, and he watched her try
the intercom.

"Detective Knight?  I thought it would be better if we talked somewhere
other than your work."

"Oh no, that's not..." Natalie started, but she recognised the voice
immediately.  "Do you think she'll leave if you don't answer?"

They were both answered by another ring of the buzzer.  "I doubt it,"
Nick said, then hit the intercom, "Agent Gale, take the elevator to the
second floor," he evenly said, then buzzed her up with more force on the
button than was necessary or wise.  At least both he and Natalie were
still dressed, and the loft was in good order.  He didn't like admitting
those he didn't know well into his home, however, and Nick paced in
front of the elevator door while it rose.  The moment it stopped, he
pushed open the freight door and glared at the mortal.  "Why did you
come here rather than wait at the morgue, or leave a note for Natalie to
meet at your hotel or some other location?"

Cassandra Gale swayed backwards a touch under Nick's almost gold glare.
"May I come in?"

"Depends.  Why are you here?"

"I think that's obvious--to find out if you would be willing--"

"With only the information I have on hand--no, I would not."

"Then, please, let me come in.  I will try to answer any questions or
concerns you have."

He continued to stare at her for several seconds.  Glancing toward
Natalie, where she sat on the couch with the remote in her hand--the
music had at some point been turned off--he received a silent nod.
Turning back, he told their uninvited guest, "You can try," then moved
off to the side, still holding on to the door.

Agent Gale very cautiously entered, her eyes darting around the loft.
Her feet came to a halt a few steps from the elevator, and she turned
her head quickly when the door slid shut rather loudly, startling her.

Nick continued forward to the chair near Natalie, and rested his hands
on the back of the seat.  "Sit, and tell us exactly how you plan to
convince the world I'm not the reformed, good-guy vampire I now appear
to be."  He waited, his eyes locked on the mortal until she approached
and rather uncomfortably sat in the recliner.  He was pleased to finally
see some fear in her, and a smile flitted to his lips before he returned
to his seat on the couch on the other side of Natalie.  He wrapped his
arm around her waist and entwined his fingers with hers.  "You can
explain at any time."

"As you might guess, the prisons for your kind are only for those
vampires who have killed, or strongly suspected to have killed and were
caught.  To get you into the system, you will have to more or less be
convicted of murder."

"So you intend to fake a--" Natalie started, but was cut off.

"No, this kind of case can't be faked; it has to be very realistic.  We
would want iron-clad evidence."

"Which would be?"

"Your fang marks in a victim's flesh, along with your DNA on the wound.
And the body drained, of course.  There would be no trial.  You would
simply be taken into custody and incarcerated."

"No trial?" Natalie asked.  "Is that even--"

"Legal?" Gale asked, raising her eyebrows.  "At the moment, since there
has been no opposition...yes, it is, technically, legal.  That is one
thing we would like to stop.  I and many others are aware that vampires
do not kill merely out of...greed.  The individual accused should have
the chance to explain, if they so desire, prior to being put in
isolation for an indefinite period of time."

Nick's thoughts, however, remained on something else and he nearly
growled, his eyes taking on a gold sheen as he spoke, low and nearly
threatening, "I will not kill anyone for your charade."

Gale looked away, deliberately not meeting his eyes, but forced herself
to continue, "You would have the individual's permission.  We would also
use a terminally ill patient who would die imminently, regardless of
whether or not--"

"I will not kill *anyone* for this," he repeated, thankful for Natalie
keeping hold of his hands, which kept him in place.  "Any evidence you
need will have to be fabricated."

"But this kind of evidence can't be--"

"I could do it," Natalie interceded.  "All I would need would be dental
impressions, a saliva sample, and a barely deceased body."

Agent Gale nearly protested, but she eventually said, "Maybe.  Maybe
that would work."

"So I am discovered to be a murderer.  Then I would be taken to this
prison?"

"Yes."

"This individual you have on the inside..." he started, thinking what to
ask first.  "Would I have any contact with them?"

"Some.  You would not be able to speak to them or otherwise pass notes,
or--"

"Then how does me being there help?"

Gale hesitated, but expanded, "Remember when I mentioned we had made
another attempt?"

"And they discovered the camera," Nick remembered.

"Yes.  As I said, you would have some contact with the individual
helping us.  After you have been...detained, they will place at least
one rather advanced surveillance camera in your cell, and I'm sure
you'll be able to tell when they do that."

"Will it even work?  Do you know if--"

"If you're asking about the camera...yes, Detective, it will work.
Our...informant has been wearing a similar camera, and we haven't had
any major issues with it.  Before you ask...all they get to see is the
aftermath of what is done to the prisoners...often times not even that.
We need to catch them in the act, gather some definitive proof, which is
why we need your help."

"The vampires who have died..." Natalie interrupted, drawing attention
to her.  "How old were they in relation to the others at the prison?"

"They were some of the youngest."

"And the oldest?  What happens to them?" she prodded further.

"They are the ones who get the bulk of the mistreatment, and the worst
of the torture."

Nick momentarily turned toward Natalie; she had figured out a way to the
answer he wanted.  "The oldest vampire currently in the prison I would
be taken to is how old?"

"Six-hundred and seventy-one," Agent Gale softly, evenly said.  "You
will not be spared.  In fact, we are counting on you becoming the
primary target, or one of the primary targets, very quickly."

Nick didn't particularly like the sound of that, but he filed it away
and asked, "How long would I need to stay?"

"Probably at least a week or two, but it could be three or four.  If
nothing happens in a month, we will pull you out."

"Can you be certain you'd be able to get him out if nothing happens?"
Natalie asked.  "And on the other hand, I suppose when something *does*
happen, he'll be taken out as soon as possible, right?"

"Pulling him back out if nothing happens wouldn't be difficult to
arrange, although it would likely blow our investigation.  And yes, if
it does, we will make every effort to remove him once we have enough
evidence to enter the facility."

"Have enough evidence," he repeated, his eyes once more glued on the
agent.

"As you may have gathered, all we have so far is basically hearsay and
rumour, although we do have a lot of that.  What we need is proof,
irrefutable hard evidence of what they are doing to the prisoners there.
That means audio and video evidence of a vampire being deliberately
harmed without provocation.  If you agree to do this, you *will* be
physically harmed--severely and probably repeatedly.  That much I can
guarantee.  I don't know how your kind responds to--"

"Vampires.  Call us vampires," he interrupted in a harsh whisper.

Cassandra Gale stiffened at being corrected, then continued, "I don't
know how vampires mentally respond to such abusive treatment, to what is
essentially torture.  But I have the impression that you do not heal
from emotional or mental wounds nearly as fast as you do from physical
wounds.  Am I right?"  Despite pausing, she didn't get a reply.  "If you
need more time--"

"Of course I need more time.  And more answers.  I want to know more
details about what they'll probably do to me.  And I want to know when
this is supposed to happen, and if I can tell my partner."

"If you decide to participate, we will set things in motion as soon as
possible; and, I'm sorry, but you cannot tell your partner.  His
reaction needs to be genuine.  I suspect Dr. Lambert here can explain
the situation to him...after you're arrested and taken into custody."

While Natalie could indeed do that, Nick narrowed his eyes; his earlier
question had still not been answered.  "I will not consider this any
further until I know exactly what they might do to me."

"That was in the file I gave you."

"It was far too vague.  'Given various medications and mortal wounds' I
believe is what it said.  I want more specifics--details."

"You need something more specific than the fact that they will drug you
and probably keep you that way, while they essentially murder you
repeatedly?" she asked, her voice clearly showing her surprise.

"Murder, how?  And what kinds of medications?"

"The first in many ways--shot, stabbed, staked; even rumours of
electrocution and drowning.  The medications vary from sedatives and
paralytics to illegal narcotics, not to mention who knows what
combinations of any or all of those.  Your guesses of what they might do
with their essentially unlimited resources are probably better than
mine.  The prisons have been operational for nearly four months
now--since a couple of weeks after your kind were revealed--and vampires
heal quickly.  I'm sure that gives you a rough idea how many things
could have been tried on any one vampire."

"Is this going on at all the facilities you're using for us, or only one
of them?"

"We believe it is happening to one extent or another at most, if not all
of the prisons for your people, but there is one in particular--the one
we will be sending you to--that has the worst record by far.  We want
the evidence to put a stop to it not only there, but at all of them, by
adding around-the-clock surveillance measures, screening employees to
weed out those prone to targeting vampires, and substantial requirements
on exactly what they can and can't do to the inmates."

"How many vampires are imprisoned there?"

"I'm sorry, I can't answer that."

"I suppose you also cannot tell me where this prison is?"

"Not specifically."

"Where, in general?  Which province or, maybe which state it's in?"

"Again, I can't answer that specifically.  All I can say is that it is
in the western part of this continent."

"Canada, or--"

"Not Canada," Gale said with a slight smile.

Nick was faintly surprised that she had narrowed down the location at
all; she was trying to answer his questions, but perhaps couldn't.
Realising he hadn't been able to finish his earlier question, he asked,
"And, again, the individual on the inside...who is it?"

"She is a nurse, which is why she only gets to see the aftermath of
everything.  She would likely have limited contact with you, and will
not be able to talk with you."

She paused, took a deep breath, and continued, "If you agree to do this,
we will provide you with more detailed information about the day-to-day
operations, what to expect in general."

He already had a little on that--the rooms were kept lighted day and
night, and the inmates were allowed nothing more than a place to sleep,
which consisted of little more than a thin mattress on the floor.  He
wasn't sure which would be worse, the cell itself or all the derogatory
comments from his co-workers.  At least he wouldn't have much
opportunity to hear any of the new rumours of him still being a killer,
only the limited time from when they came to accuse him of murder until
they somehow took him out.  Natalie and Schanke would have to put up
with far more comments and insinuations or possibly even threats while
he was away.  "I'll...consider...your request."

"Good.  That's all I ask."  Cassandra Gale's eyes again started darting
around the room, her gaze constantly caught by the sunlight streaming in
through two, half-open windows.  "Doesn't that bother you?  Unnerve
you?"

"Not really," he answered offhandedly, keeping his gaze on their guest.

She grimaced and said, "Let me guess, my presence bothers you more than
the light, right?"  She didn't get a reply beyond more of the vampire's
stony glare.  "Why do you dislike me so much, Detective?"

"I'm not fond of anyone who pries into my life.  Nor would you be."  He
let go of Natalie and stood.  "As I said, I will consider your request.
When and where do you want my decision?"

"I will return here in a couple of days at the same time."

"I would prefer we met at another location--and at an alternate time."

"I am not staying in Toronto, Detective, and if we meet somewhere more
public, you, at least, will be noticed.  Under the circumstances, here
would be best, wouldn't you agree?"

Nick nodded toward the door.  "Fine, we'll meet here, same time.  Now
leave."

Agent Gale smiled slightly for a moment, then stood and did as asked,
starting for the elevator.

Nick followed her at a distance, watching her until she actually got
into the elevator and it started down.  Then he started to pace, or
would have, if Natalie hadn't been standing in his way.  Shutting his
eyes, he tried to relax.

"Hey, at least we're not wondering when or where she'll pop up next,"
Natalie noted, hoping it'd make him not look so very annoyed.  "Should I
ask if you've already decided what you're going to do?"

"I don't know, Nat.  I can almost guarantee that if I don't do it, no
one else will, and some lives could be lost, possibly some innocent
lives, but I don't *want* to.  On the other hand, if I do agree to do
this, I won't be the only one under the gun, so to speak.  You--"

"Don't worry about me.  I'll be fine."

"--and Schanke will be ridiculed, pitied, or worse for how I supposedly
deceived you.  And everyone else."

Natalie wasn't sure what to say now; she wouldn't have too much of a
problem with it, she didn't think, but Schanke...  "At least it's only
temporary.  They'll sort it all out afterwards once they find out that
it was only an undercover assignment--and you know they will."

He opened his eyes and looked down at her; she was probably right.  It
would only be temporary.  "Maybe."

"Nick, if you are serious about going through with this, I won't stop
you.  It sounds like you wouldn't be...well, they wouldn't kill you
permanently, accidentally or otherwise.  And I'll do whatever I can to
help."

"I guess this means you'll have to be the one to tell Schanke
about...what happened, what we did to those two women.  I would want him
to know that I'm not an innocent who naively volunteered for this."  He
turned and walked away from Natalie, then turned back.  "And of course
there's still LaCroix to deal with."

"Just...don't tell him."

"He'll know.  And I would want to make sure you were safe; I don't know
what those we work with would try to do to you."

"Nick--"

"I don't know what I want to do, or what would be best."  Nick's gaze
settled on one of the partially open windows.  He wished it weren't
still day.  He needed to think and felt like burning off his anxiety
with a long, fast flight.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (094/111)

Agent Gale had come by two mornings later as she had said, and Nick had
reluctantly agreed to help her, under the strict condition that he
himself didn't have to kill his supposed victim.

Natalie had arranged that part of their plan rather effectively,
although he didn't want to ever have dental impressions taken again,
particularly not with his fangs descended.  She had done that the moment
he had made his decision in order to create a cast of his teeth, and it
hadn't been very pleasant.

That was another thing upon which he had insisted--Natalie had to be the
coroner, mainly in order to mock up the fake victim and plant the
appropriate evidence, but also because his betrayal would seem that much
worse if she had to be the one to 'accidentally' turn him in.

Now, a day later, Natalie had shown him the cast she had made of his
teeth.  Frankly, he had felt uncomfortable looking at them, but at least
that part of the ruse was ready.

Later, arriving home from the morgue, they had come face to face with
LaCroix, and froze in place.  Neither had said a thing to him about what
Nick had agreed to do, between the lack of time to do so, and knowing
the elder vampire's reaction likely wouldn't be good.

"What are you up to, Nicholas?"

Nick didn't meet his sire's gaze, but it was no use.  He could hear
LaCroix stepping nearer.  He held tightly to Natalie's arm even as he
kept his gaze on a bare stretch of wall.

"You know I dislike subterfuge...other than my own, of course.  What is
it that you are so reluctant to tell me?  What are you trying so
desperately to hide from me?"

When his son shirked back, LaCroix turned his attention to Natalie.  She
didn't turn away from him, but he could see the same reluctance in her
that he saw in her brother.  He walked up to her, then around her,
whispering into her ear, "Tell me what he has done."

"I agreed to take an undercover assignment," Nick answered before
Natalie either decided to respond or tried not to.  A moment later, he
felt powerful hands on his shoulders.

"Where?"

Nick shut his eyes, feeling the other man move around him.

"Where, Nicholas!  For what purpose?"

"One of the prisons for us," he said and opened his eyes.  LaCroix
looked more shocked than livid, which didn't help in the slightest.  He
would prefer the other man to be mad.  "Several days ago, I was
approached by Agent Gale, the woman--"

"The FBI agent, as I recall."  LaCroix' disdain for the agent was
evident in the near groan in his response.

"Yes.  She approached me about going undercover--"

"You intend to allow them to incarcerate you in one of these--"  LaCroix
stopped, stunned.  "Why would you agree to such insanity as this?  I
have heard much about what happens at these prisons.  They do terrible
things to our kind.  Vile atrocities.  They are not a place--"

"I know!  The whole point of having a vampire on the inside is to help
verify it, gather evidence to prove it, and use that to put a stop to
it.  I know this will not be pleasant--"

"Not pleasant?  Nicholas--"

"Yes, I know that is an extreme understatement, but it could save
lives...or at least make things better for those of us in their
prisons."

"But they could...they could *murder* you.  I will not--"

"They won't kill Nick," Natalie interrupted.  "The only vampires who
have died were much younger, specifically among the youngest there.  We
both believe it is very unlikely that he will be permanently injured or
killed.  If that was a true risk, he would not have even considered it,
let alone agreed."

LaCroix glared at his daughter before turning back to his son.  "Why did
you not inform me of this?"

"Because I knew this is how you would react!"  Nick pushed Natalie off
to one side, moving them away from LaCroix.  In a split second, however,
the older vampire had flown in front of them to block their path.  "Dawn
is nearly here.  So now you know, and there is little more to--"

"When will you be...interned?" LaCroix demanded, cutting his son off.

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"We don't know exactly.  We have to wait until Natalie has a suitable
body to mock up as my so-called 'victim'."

"Your--"

"Victim.  To make the whole thing plausible, they have to arrest me for
murder."

LaCroix' annoyance faded somewhat, his eyes darting between his two
children.

"The original plan was for me to actually kill a mortal who was already
near death," he explained.  "But I refused."  Seeing the other man's
anger return, he quickly continued, "I did not think that was prudent.
I don't doubt that Agent Gale would have wanted to be there, and
probably record it, and who knows how they might twist it for other
purposes at some point in the future."

"Very true," LaCroix whispered, eyes now locked on his son.  "Why did
you agree to do this?  And why were you the one they approached?  What
foolish reasoning--"

"Because I can do something about it.  I can make a real difference for
our kind, make things more equitable between us and the mortals--at
least in the legal system--and because I do believe they'll keep me safe
and alive.  And they probably asked me because I have already proven
that I can be severely injured around mortals and not kill the one who
caused it.  They know I can fill the role they need.  I'll be under
constant surveillance, and they'll know not only what is done *to* me,
but also what my own reactions are.  Everything will be recorded, for
the benefit of both sides.  I understand the risks, LaCroix.  And I
understand what's at stake."

LaCroix turned his gaze on Natalie.  "And you...why did you let him
agree to this?"

"Nick makes his own choices, and besides, if he doesn't do this, the
situation will only get worse.  Is that what you want?  And what happens
when one of us ends up in one of these prisons--"

"Enough," LaCroix commanded, turning away.  They were both right, but it
didn't change his annoyance at not being informed.  "You are certain you
will not be killed?"

"I'm certain."

"And how long will you be imprisoned?"

"Probably between a week and a month.  It could conceivably be less, but
it won't be any longer than that.  If they can't get what they need in
that time, or I am not harmed, they'll pull me back out."

"And where is this prison?"

"Somewhere in the western United States.  She refused to be more
specific than that."

LaCroix paused, then turned back to face the two.  They didn't seem even
slightly nervous; their minds were already made up.  But there were
still other issues.  "Nicholas, you do realise that those mortals with
whom you work will--"

"I know...I know all too well how they'll react.  At least they'll let
Nat tell Schanke that it's only an undercover assignment, but not until
after I am taken into custody.  No one else is to be informed."

"Not even me?" LaCroix asked with narrowed eyes.

"I would have told you."

"When?  Once you knew when they planned to take you?"

Nick stiffened; actually, yes, that was when they had intended to tell
LaCroix--once his victim was prepared and everything was ready to go.
Had that been the case, LaCroix wouldn't have had time to confront them
with questions like he was doing now.

"Who else knows of this...endeavour?"

"Just Cohen, I think.  Probably the Police Commission."  Nick held his
ground as his sire started back toward them.  "You will make sure
Natalie stays safe while I'm not here, yes?"

LaCroix nodded, resigned.  "Of course."

"Watch her and make sure no one hurts her, nothing more."

"And you will tell me when you expect to be...detained?  I certainly
wish to be informed first-hand rather than hear it from one of my
employees."

"Yes, I know.  One of us will tell you.  There will probably be two or
three days between the time when Natalie--"

"Mutilates a corpse," she volunteered.

He shot her a quick glance, but nodded before continuing, "Between that
and the time they actually arrest me."

"And how, exactly, will they link you to the...murder?"

"My DNA is on file, remember?  They'll run their sample against those
they have profiles for, and they'll get a match."

"And will there be a trial, some opportunity for you to defend yourself
from the charges?" LaCroix asked.

Nick shook his head.

"That's exactly the problem, and part of what this is about.  For now,
there are no trials, not for us, at least not for these situations,"
Natalie confirmed despondently.  "A vampire's DNA on a bite wound on a
victim, with the cause of death being, well, drained by a vampire, is
all they need.  So far, they haven't worked out all the legal details
for dealing with us, so we don't have all the same rights.  No
attorneys, no full investigations to verify all the details, and no
trials.  All they do when they have that sort of evidence is arrest us
and throw us in their special jail.  That's it.  One can appeal, but it
has to be someone other than the imprisoned individual.  Another
possible plus of Nick doing this is the media will surely ask questions
and find out more about this idiotic process.  Especially after I
essentially show how easy it would be to fake a victim and all of the
associated evidence.  Granted, I'll have had cooperation, but...it'll
show that their system isn't just immoral, but inappropriate in
general."

LaCroix again turned and walked away, where he then turned again and
walked to one side before finally turning back to face the two.  "Are
you certain you wish to go through with this, Nicholas?"

"Yes.  I know what I'm likely in for."

"Which is?" LaCroix asked, since his son hadn't actually said it.

"Torture of some sort.  Extreme torture, as I understand it."

"Are you prepared for--"

"I've put up with you all this time!  Physical torture is much easier to
tolerate than your incessant and manipulative mind games."

LaCroix almost smiled at the verbal stab.  "And what about
your...position?"

"What position?" he asked, honestly not sure what his sire was asking
about.

"That of our representative, our liaison."

Nick looked away.  *That.*  He had barely thought about it; his role
seemed rather nominal, even to him.  It was merely another part of his
job, and that's all it would be, unless something happened.  Or if
LaCroix or someone else wanted him to try and talk to the Mayor or
someone...and that wouldn't happen; his sire was still keeping things
from him, he was sure.  "Natalie would be the obvious choice to fill in
for me."  He focused on her.  "Assuming it'd be all right with you, of
course?"

"Yeah, it would be fine."  She caught a glare from LaCroix.  "I probably
wouldn't even be needed, but if I am, it's either me or, who--you?" she
asked, hoping it would get his gaze to soften in resignation.  Then,
however, she noticed dawn was approaching.  "And it might be good for
you to leave, if you don't want to be stuck here all day."

LaCroix turned and noticed the faintly brightening sky.  He turned back
toward his son.  He didn't particularly want to leave, but remaining
would only result in a perpetual argument.  "We shall speak more on this
tonight, Nicholas."  Eyes shifting to Natalie, he added, "And you as
well, perhaps.  I'm sure you won't mind if I...drop in."

Nick tensed as LaCroix brushed by him on his way out to the elevator.
LaCroix was lingering, probably hoping they'd inadvertently tell him
something new before he went out of range.

The moment the gears started up, Nick crossed to the refrigerator.  He
had suddenly become rather ravenous; he had no intention of talking any
more.  He doubted Natalie did, either.  LaCroix would just have to be
disappointed.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (095/111)

Nick hung up his phone and glanced at Schanke, who seemed oblivious to
his sudden increase in anxiety.  It had been two weeks since Agent Gale
had originally approached him, and a little over a week since he had
finally agreed.  Three nights ago, Natalie had ended up with an
appropriate victim--too appropriate in his mind.  The deceased had been
a 19-year-old woman who had had leukaemia.  She had been quite
beautiful, even with her shaved head and the drawn appearance from her
treatment.  Her family had given permission to use her as their false
victim, and had been sworn to silence.  He had refused to be there while
Natalie prepared the body, only dropping by when she needed a saliva
sample from him.

And now the results of the test had come back.  Natalie had said they
would be in tonight, and she had just called him to say that she, Agent
Gale, and a couple of others were coming over to arrest him.  Now.

He felt nervous, to say the least; this was one detail that the FBI
agent had refused to clarify.  When he asked about the arrest procedure,
Agent Gale had merely told him that she couldn't say because his
reaction needed to be realistic.  He, however, didn't feel that sitting
nervously at his desk in the precinct, waiting for their arrival, would
give her a very realistic reaction.  But what could he do?

"Hey, Knight, Cohen's looking at you kind of...  Actually, I don't know
how to describe it.  It's kinda like..."  He shrugged and finally
settled on, "It's just...it's downright weird, that's what it is."

Nick glanced up without thinking, and indeed she was looking at him
oddly.  She looked somewhere between caring and even a bit pitying...and
scowling, which he suspected was what she was unsuccessfully trying to
do.  Cohen knew he was about to be arrested, and Nick had the sudden
urge to flee.  Instead, he simply looked back down at the top of his
desk.  To be honest, he feared how he himself would be treated, but even
more, he worried about his partner and Natalie.  He wouldn't be able to
protect Natalie from anything someone might do or say to her while he
was gone.  She had never been targeted like he had at first.

"Nick?  Something wrong?"

"No, Skank, nothing's wrong," he lied.  His partner would find out soon
enough, he supposed.

Nick tried to work for the next nearly ten minutes, but failed
miserably.  Then, abruptly, he felt Natalie approach.  He knew it was
her.  Maybe it had to do with his sense of fear, but he could almost
tell she was afraid, too.  He tried to smile, to greet her as if he
didn't know something was up, and turned when she approached.  His smile
vanished quickly; she looked worse than he felt.  It didn't help that
others in the precinct could tell something was up--Natalie and Agent
Gale were not alone.  They were accompanied by two men wearing black
military fatigues.

"Detective Knight?" Agent Gale said.

He instinctively stood.

"Your rights are hereby officially revoked.  You are under arrest for
the murder of one Penelope Dundas.  Please cooperate and do not resist."

His anxiety sky-rocketed at the harsh and monotonous tone.  He took a
step back when the two military types stepped toward him, one from each
side.  With his chair and desk behind him, however, he had nowhere to
go.  He saw a syringe in the nearer man's hand.  He turned and backed
up, but it was a mistake.  He felt a prick in his side.  Almost
immediately, he felt his vision start to blur.  He didn't have time to
process what had happened before the drug took effect, nor did he--nor
could he--push their hands away when they caught him mid-fall.

"What the--"

"Do not interfere, Detective Schanke!" Agent Gale warned.

Natalie moved forward, a bit shocked at how quickly Nick had been
incapacitated.  He now hung limp and clearly unconscious in the two
men's arms, and when they started to take him toward the exit, she
started after them, only to have a hand grab her.  She spun on the
agent, her eyes flaring bright gold in fear and anger.

"Nor you, Dr. Lambert."

"Where are you taking him?" Schanke demanded.  He stood and started
around the desks, his gaze locked on his unconscious partner being
half-dragged out of the precinct.  "What--"

"He has been arrested in regards to a murder, as I told him."

"Arrested?  That wasn't--  You just--"  He gestured after his partner,
still not believing what he had witnessed.

"Yes, arrested."

"For murder?  Nick didn't--  Nick wouldn't--"

"We have DNA evidence that proves otherwise.  You can file for a review
of that evidence if you wish, but--"

"Where the hell are you taking my partner?!" Schanke interrupted,
yelling so the whole room could hear.

"Where do we usually put criminals, Detective Schanke?" Agent Gale
asked, then after a pause, answered her own question, "Prison."

Not liking the answer even slightly, Schanke started closer to Agent
Gale.  "He did nothing--"

"Schanke!" Cohen yelled, approaching.  "My office.  Now."

"Captain--"

"Now!" she yelled again, then turned toward Natalie.  "You too,
Natalie."

Natalie shook her head; she wanted to stay with Nick as long as she
could.

"Go, Doctor.  And wait there.  I will not ask a third time."

Natalie hesitantly did so, glancing at a stunned Schanke while she
walked past him and entered the office first.  Nick would be okay.  She
told herself that over and over while she sat in a chair and waited.
After a few moments, Schanke entered and hung by the door for a second,
glaring out at Cohen and the FBI agent with obvious contempt.

"That bitch is--"

"Schanke!" Natalie harshly whispered when he cursed.

"This is insane.  You should be--you could stop them from--"

"No, I couldn't.  And I wouldn't."

"What?"

"Just...come in here, sit down, and wait.  There's nothing we can do."

Schanke turned and walked a few paces closer, but he didn't sit.  "This
is insane, Natalie.  Nick's been arrested for *murder*, literally
drugged and dragged off by foreign agents, and you want me to sit
down?!"

"*Yes.*  I could make you, if you'd like."

Schanke stiffened at that.  "No, thanks, I'll...I'll sit on my own," he
muttered, and reluctantly took the other chair in front of Cohen's desk.
He stared at the edge of the desk, not looking at Natalie.  "This is
still...  I can't believe it.  Nick didn't do anything.  He's not a
murderer."  He paused for a moment, then glanced over at Natalie,
appalled, and asked, "He's not, is he?"

She was saved from having to answer quite yet by Cohen entering the
office and shutting the door behind her.

Schanke turned in his chair.  "Captain--"

"Detective, what I am about to tell you cannot leave this room.  You
will not speak about it to anyone other than Natalie, Special Agent
Gale, or myself.  Is that clear?"  Cohen walked over to her desk and sat
in her own chair.  "Detective?"

"Yeah, all right, but--"

"Your partner is participating in an undercover assignment."

Schanke froze in place, stunned momentarily by the information.  "So he
didn't...he didn't murder--"  He sank visibly in his chair, relieved by
the confirmation.

"Detective Knight had nothing to do with her death; Penelope Dundas died
of cancer.  Natalie made her up to be the victim of a vampire,
specifically your partner, and deliberately planted his DNA on her as
evidence.  The public arrest is to ensure that the media 'sells it' as a
real arrest in order to give it credibility.  If he had been arrested in
private, it would have drawn too much suspicion.

Schanke stared blankly at Cohen.  "But why would he--"

"Special Agent Gale is part of a multiple agency task force that is
trying to prove that vampires are being mistreated and even tortured in
the prisons that have been set up for them.  The only way into these
prisons as a vampire is to be arrested for murder."

"Trying to prove mistreatment?  Torture?"

Cohen hesitated, glancing to Natalie for a moment, then replied, "From
what I gather, it does in fact amount to torture.  Repeatedly inflicting
what would undoubtedly be mortal injuries for one of us, drug
overdoses--"

Schanke had been rather red with rage; now he went pale in horror.  "My
partner--"

"Volunteered for this."

"He didn't volunteer," Natalie interrupted.  "At least not on his own.
Agent Gale approached him with the idea a couple weeks ago, and after
several discussions and lengthy consideration, he agreed to do it."

Schanke still looked nearly ill.  "He knows what to expect then, right?

"Yeah, Skank, he knows."

"Is he insane?" he exclaimed, then his gaze drifted to the wall.  "What
am I thinking?!  Of course he is.  Vampire homicide detective kinda says
nuts anyway, but is he, I don't know..."

"Nick knows that, by doing this, he can make a big difference in the way
prisons, and our legal system in general, treats vampires."

"You mean the way they drugged him and dragged him out of here?  What
the hell was that about, anyway?" Schanke demanded, standing.  "They
just haul him off like that, no questions asked?  No investigation?  No
right to an attorney?  No chance for him to say squat in his defence?
Did I miss something?  Is the Gestapo is still alive and kicking?  Do we
want to start some sort of race war?  'Cause that's what'll happen.  And
it won't be pretty."

Cohen shook her head and gestured for him to reclaim his seat.  "I don't
like it any more than you do, Detective, but for now, that is the
official procedure for this situation."

Schanke had gradually sat back down, but remained on the edge of his
seat.  "Then why did they give us those heavy-duty handcuffs, huh?  I
thought we were supposed to treat them like everyone else, except for
the high-class jewellery."

The captain held up her hand.  "In most cases, Detective, you are
correct, but the current law states specifically that any vampire
suspected of murder, specifically with DNA evidence linking that
individual to the crime--and I must emphasise that this does apply only
to murder--he or she loses all civil rights, and must be detained in the
manner you witnessed."

"So what happens if they didn't commit the murder?  What happens if they
were framed or something?  What then?  They just fall off the face of
the earth, while the real killer gets off scot-free because we don't get
the chance to do our job, to prove they did or *didn't* kill someone?

Cohen sighed, then explained, "I understand, Schanke, and, in fact, I
agree with you, but for now, we have to follow the law, even though this
is actually more a lack of law.  When this is over, when we can
demonstrate just how easy it was to condemn an innocent vampire and
leave him with no legal recourse, we'll have the media on our side to
force the powers-that-be to address the issue.  That is the whole point
of why your partner agreed to do this--to change this."

"Considering what's at stake, Schanke, can you understand why Nick would
agree to do this?" Natalie asked, the moment Cohen had stopped speaking.
"Wouldn't you do the same thing if you were in his shoes?  Mind you, I'm
not saying I'm happy about it, but I can understand his reasoning, why
he's willing to do it."

Schanke finally sank fully back in his chair, although he still didn't
like this one bit.  "But all that pain, the drugs, *torture*, not to
mention the humiliation of the arrest itself and all the *wonderful*
things everyone'll be saying about him from now until it's all over.
That's asking an awful lot of one person.  I mean, just how much can the
guy take before he..."  He abruptly went pale once more, realising
another possibility.  "They're not gonna kill him, are they, Captain?  I
know vampires are nearly indestructible, but..."

Cohen cut him off with a wave of her hand.  "No, Detective.  We have no
reason to believe they will kill him.  As you said, vampires can
withstand a great deal and he is resilient.  We believe he should be
fine," she assured him.
  
"Should be?  What's that--" Schanke halted mid-question and turned at
the sound of a knock on the door.  Special Agent Gale stood outside, and
he turned staunchly back to stare at Cohen's desk.

"Come in," Cohen called.

Cassandra Gale entered the room, not closing the door behind her.  "I'd
like to speak with Natalie for a moment," she said faintly awkwardly.
"Alone."

Cohen nodded.  "Schanke...go back to your desk."

"But Captain--"

"Natalie will clean out your partner's desk once she leaves here--and
you may help her--and then you may both go home."

Schanke appeared prepared to protest again, but he left after hesitating
for several seconds.  Cohen also stood, and after giving a short glare
to the FBI agent, she left, pulling the door shut behind her.

Natalie stared at the other woman for a moment, then evenly stated, "You
could have told him what you were planning to do, how you intended to
arrest him."

"It had the intended effect on--"

"I don't care about making a show for the blasted media--they'll do that
on their own without any help!  You shouldn't have kept that from him!
He had a right to be prepared, to be told exactly how you were going to
arrest him."

After a moment, Agent Gale replied, "Possibly..." then pulled out two
small plastic evidence bags.  "But it seems you were keeping things from
me as well."

The agent held out the two bags and Natalie took them.  One had his
watch--the one she had given him some time ago--and the other his
wedding ring.

"Jewellery and other personal items are confiscated.  In this case, I
thought it might be better if I returned these, since I'm not certain
what typically happens to those belongings."  Agent Gale's eyes darted
to Natalie's hand, where she found a matching ring to the one she had
removed.  "Did you keep your name, or--"

"No, I didn't keep it."

"So now you're Dr. Natalie...Knight?" she prodded, and received a short
nod.  "I'm surprised you didn't correct me.  I've used 'Lambert' several
times in the last couple of weeks.  How long have you been married?"

"Not long.  A few weeks," Natalie answered.

Gale nodded behind her, to the precinct as a whole.  "Do they know?"

"Most of them, yeah."

"Do you correct them?"

"No, I do not.  For one thing, we haven't made any sort of formal
announcement.  For another, if they don't want to use Nick's name when
referring to me, I'm okay with that.  I know some won't--ever.  And when
we're at the same crime scene...I know it's easier to just use my maiden
name than preface our names with 'Doctor' or 'Detective'."

Agent Gale nodded and pulled out another bag.  This one was larger, and
jingled somewhat.  "You may also have these."

She took the bag.  This one had Nick's wallet, badge, cuffs, keys,
notebook and pen in it.

"Captain Cohen said it would be all right for you to hold onto his badge
for the time being, although she will be keeping his side-arm until he
returns."  Letting go of the bag, she added, "I hope this doesn't cause
too many issues for you.  That you were married--"

"Will make this look even worse.  I know.  You wanted it to look
bad--you got it."  Natalie started for the door, but paused before she
opened it.  "I do hope you'll keep us updated; I want to know that Nick
is doing okay."

"I will do what I can regarding--"

"Thank you," Natalie forced, then pulled the door open, cutting their
conversation off.  She started right for Nick's desk, where an empty box
already sat.  Everyone was staring at her and/or Schanke.  She quickly
put the larger plastic bag out of sight in the box, and tucked the
smaller bags into one of her pockets.

"Do you really have to clean out his desk?" Schanke asked.  "I'm sure
he'll be back here before--"

"Schanke...yeah, I have to do this."  She pulled open a drawer, then
glanced up, only to find Cohen looking at Schanke.  "And I think Cohen
wants to talk to you."

He turned around in his chair, his mood dropping even further.
Standing, he told Natalie, "I'll help when I get back..."

Natalie managed a smile, although it was a forced one.  Once Schanke got
back and Nick's desk was cleaned out, she wanted to talk to him.  But
first she had to call LaCroix, tell him what had happened, even though
she highly suspected he was already aware of the situation, but she had
promised he'd hear it from her before he heard it from the news and, for
the moment, she was alone, beyond the silent eyes watching her every
move.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (096/111)

"Where are we going?" Schanke asked, glancing over at Natalie while she
drove Nick's car out of the 96th's parking lot half an hour later.

"To talk."

"About what?  My crazy partner?  My nutso,
lost-his-marbles-to-the-point-he-willingly-signed-up-for-torture
partner?  Not sure there's much to say about *that*.  Unless it's about
whatever was said to you on our way out..."

Natalie's hands tightened on the steering wheel.  One of the other
detectives had called her an ungrateful bitch and made a snide comment
that 'yep, vampires are only in it for themselves'.  And that was
downright mild compared to some of the other things she had heard.  Most
of what she overheard was specifically about Nick, but some was more
general, such as comments about there being no such thing as a good
vampire.  Suddenly it was very clear that her being a vampire would now
be an issue.

"If that's what this is about, you gotta know I'm not gonna just sit by
and listen to them talk about you like that."

"And I don't want you to get in trouble trying to defend me.  Or Nick.
He wouldn't want you to, either."

"So?" he started, looking over at her again.  "He's been arrested.
Whether it's the real deal or not, I'm not sure his judgement is all
that great right now.  Besides, I'll defend you--both of you--if I want
to."  Staring out the passenger window, he added glumly, "I just know
I'll be stuck with that green detective from days.  Flanagan.  I don't
suppose you know how long Nick'll be gone?"

"Anywhere from a week to a month."

"A month?" Schanke exclaimed, his eyes bulging in disbelief as he turned
back to Natalie.  "They're gonna do God-only-knows-what to him for a
*month*?  Seriously?  Did he know this before--"

"Yes, and yes," Natalie said through gritted teeth.

"Damn.  He really *is* insane.  I always thought he was a bit weird, and
he's got that complex about wanting to--I don't know, fit in and be the
good guy, but this is just...  Is he really gonna be all right?  I
always thought he was a bit...fragile or something..."  When Natalie
glared at him, he tried to better explain, "I mean, like he's not all
there at times.  Mentally.  He thinks about things way too much and gets
lost in his memories or something.  A lot.  In fact, it wouldn't
surprise me if the guy thinks he actually deserves this."

Natalie tensed again; Schanke was too right at times.  The thing was,
Nick *did* feel he deserved this.  And Schanke might, too, considering
how horrified he had seemed at the thought his partner could have killed
someone.  So far, he didn't know about Nick's quest to become mortal,
but Nick desperately did want to fit in precisely as Schanke had
guessed.  "Schanke...Nick wanted me to tell you something, but--"

"Tell me what?"

"Ah, maybe it's more like...ask you something," she rephrased.

"Okay, sure...I think."

"What if Nick *had* killed someone?  Would you think he'd deserve
spending a week or a month--"

Schanke shook his head.  "He has killed people, Natalie, I know
that--but that's all in the past."

"Right, but let's say he had...more recently."

"Has he?" he asked warily.

Natalie hesitated, glancing to Nick's partner while she continued to
drive.  This was the hard part.  Actually telling Schanke, or choosing
not to.  "Would you think he deserved it if he had?"

"I don't...no.  No one deserves that.  Not torture."

"What if it were LaCroix?"

After only the slightest hesitation, he replied, "Well, I might not like
the guy, but no, not even him.  It's one thing to kill for blood, but a
whole other thing to torture any living being just for the fun of it."

"Even though vampires can get blood from other sources?"

"Yeah, but I mean we...we kill animals to eat.  I might not be thrilled
about being the, er, cattle, but I understand it.  I guess maybe it'd
depend if the person knew what the vampire might do to them.  I mean,
now that we know they're real, maybe some people want that...  Some of
those hospital calls we go out on...more often than not the people
*wanted* to be bitten.  Now, I don't understand the why, but I guess if
that's what they want...  Don't forget that I didn't stop you or tell
Nick not to, er, feed from you before when..."

"So...if he *had* killed someone?" Natalie persisted, determined to get
an answer to her question.

Schanke sighed then admitted, "I don't know...  But he has, hasn't he?
That's what you're saying, isn't it?"

Natalie nodded.  "We both have."

Schanke turned in his seat, unconsciously backing into the door.
"Wait--both of you--"

"Both of us have killed someone."

"The same someone, or--"

"Different people," Natalie answered.  Then, figuring since the hole was
already dug, she might as well make it worse, and added, "And, in
addition, I've fed from two people and nearly killed both of them.  Nick
has not done that."

"You've...  And Nick has..."  He closed his eyes, feeling almost
nauseous at the idea.

"Yes, Schanke."

Eyes still closed, he turned back in his seat to face forward.  Nick,
his own partner, had killed someone.  And Natalie...  She'd only been a
vampire about two, two and a half months, and she'd already bitten three
separate people, assuming she was being truthful.  He no longer felt
particularly comfortable in the car with her, but was too stricken to do
more than sag even deeper into the seat.

"And Nick...  Nick *does* feel like he deserves whatever happens to him,
Schanke."

"Did he...choose to kill?"

"It was a choice, yeah.  Not an easy one, though.  Think 'rock' and
'hard place'."

"But..."  He stopped after she glared at him.  "Either tell me what
happened, and explain why, or take me back to the precinct."  He waited,
but she didn't either start talking or turn them around.  "Does it have
something to do with LaCroix?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"What do you mean, 'kind of'?"

"You know he's the one that brought me over."

"Right, but what does that have to do with--"

"In case you haven't noticed, he's used to getting what he wants, and
what he wanted was for me to kill.  The first time he tried to get me to
kill someone, I refused," she said, then paused.  "He didn't like that,
as you can imagine.  I told him I wanted Nick to be there if--when--I
killed, and he set it up so that we both ended up...  Nick only killed
to prevent me from killing twice in the same night.  He didn't want to
kill anyone.  Neither of us did."

"Who did you, er..." Schanke trailed off, feeling uncomfortable enough
thinking about it, let alone voicing it.

"Murder?  Two women--from Quebec, I think."

"Did they know--"

"Yeah, Schanke, they knew they were going to die.  They chose to, or at
least didn't seem...  Point is, they made no effort to stop us.  And,
no, they weren't...zombified."  She waited for his response, but he
simply stared out the front windshield, looking shocked.  "Schanke--"

"Just take me back to the precinct," he said without looking away from
the window.

Natalie nodded, mostly for her own benefit, then did as he asked.
Schanke would need time to decide what to do with and how to react to
this new information.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

After dropping Schanke at the precinct, Natalie didn't drive straight
home.  Her thoughts were scattered from worry about whether or not
Schanke would say anything to anyone, whether Nick would have a partner
to come back to, and just general worry about him as well.  She couldn't
shake the feeling of fear she had felt when he had been sedated.
Whether the feeling was real or not, she was sure it had come from Nick.
She herself hadn't been frightened, more...angry, if anything, but she
had felt fear and seen it mirrored in his expression.

She hadn't felt anything strange like that since, but, if she had to
guess, Nick was likely still unconscious.  A vampire would have to be
transported unconscious, she figured.  She drove for some time in Nick's
car, nearly going by the Raven to ask if what she had sensed had been
real or only her imagination.  LaCroix would know.

Arriving back at the loft, she was struck by the sombre realisation that
she was now utterly alone.  She had spent, literally, nearly every
single day as a vampire in his presence.  The one day she hadn't, she
had felt uncomfortable, although that was nothing compared to how she
now felt.  Without Nick's reassuring presence, she found herself
isolated and vulnerable.

She immediately proceeded to pace.

By midnight, she had drunk half a bottle of blood.  By the time dawn
approached, she had drunk another half a bottle in an attempt to calm
her nerves.  It wasn't working at all.  Starting toward the fridge for
more, she froze, sensing someone nearby.  Turning, she found LaCroix
standing almost directly in front of her.  "It's late, practically
dawn."

"Why would that matter, my dear?"  LaCroix stepped closer and went to
the refrigerator himself, pulling out a full bottle.  "You don't mind if
I stay, do you?"

She stared at him as he shut the door and turned to face her, holding
the bottle in front of him.  To be honest, it did bother her a bit, but
already she felt a little less uncomfortable, less vulnerable.

"Good," he said, taking her silence for an affirmative answer.  He
retrieved two glasses from the cupboard, then took everything over to
the couch where he set the glasses on the coffee table and filled them.

Natalie watched a bit nervously.  His actions were so very practised,
easy.  So was his smile when he looked up at her.  How could he smile
right now?  He knew Nick had been arrested tonight--she had called him
from the precinct while Schanke talked to Cohen--and she had very
vaguely explained what they had done.  He had then hung up on her.

"Sit, Natalie."

"I'm okay right here."

He chuckled.  "You are agitated and hungry.  Sit."

She stiffened.  Despite his outwardly good mood, she could tell his
words were not a request but an order.  Reluctantly she did as
instructed, nearly sitting in the recliner, but continuing to the couch
when he glared at her in warning.  She sat awkwardly next to him and
took the glass he held in front of her.  Rather than drink from it, she
stared into the glass.  She wanted it, but, like before, she doubted it
would really help with how she felt.  Then her thoughts turned to what
LaCroix had said.  He had noticed she was agitated.  Was this something
he could guess from her body language--after all, he had had two
millennia to study such behaviour--or was this something he could
actually sense?  "I have a question about something..."

"You have but to ask."

Natalie glanced at him for a moment, then turned back to her glass.
"Earlier tonight when Nick was taken...I think I could tell how he felt
right at that moment.  Maybe.  But I don't know if it was real, or if I
imagined it."  She looked at LaCroix again; he appeared to be pondering
her admittedly odd question.  "Was it my imagination?  Do you know what
happened if it wasn't?"

He examined her, weighing whether to answer.  Was this part of what was
bothering her?  "What precisely did you experience?"

"I'm not sure.  I remember being afraid, even though I wasn't.  I was
angry, but I could see and practically feel how scared Nick was when he
was...  He didn't know they would drug him and haul him out like they
did.  I didn't, either."

"You felt the emotion, or you sensed it?"

"Felt it," she replied with no hesitation.

"Interesting..." he whispered, appraising her again.  He, of course,
knew what had happened, but how she had managed this without being
taught, he didn't know.  None of his other children had ever managed to
either sense his own emotions or each other's, and here his newest child
was figuring it out on her own after mere weeks...not even three months
had yet passed.  He didn't even know if it was possible for one child to
sense a sibling's emotions like this.  Apparently, it was.

"Do you know what is happening?" she asked, but he continued to stare at
her.  "You said it was 'interesting'.  What do you mean by that?"

"Only that it is a bit surprising," he replied.  "It is likely a side
effect of the closeness of your relationship with him."

"Is this how you can read his mood so well?"

He held back a glare, knowing if he reacted, she would know his answer.
"It is similar, perhaps..."

Natalie asked warily, "Does that mean you don't know, or that you don't
want to confirm it?"

When he simply smirked at her, she turned back to her glass.  He hadn't
helped at all in getting her mind off of Nick.  Still perched on the
edge of the couch, she nearly stood, but decided she would empty her
glass first.  She drank the blood quickly, set the glass on the coffee
table next to the bottle, then prepared to stand, only to be held in
place by a hand on her arm.

"Sit back and relax, Natalie.  Let your thoughts settle."

Natalie had no desire to sit there with him, not really; she'd rather
get up and pace.  He, however, still held her arm.  Either she had to
remain where she was, or she had to do as he asked.  After a moment, she
hesitantly sat back.  She tried to move a little bit away from him, but
there simply wasn't much room.  And, to be honest, she did find his
presence calming.  He might not be Nick, but at least she would not be
alone for the day.  That in itself would help so very much.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (097/111)

Natalie roughly put her coat over the back of her chair and sank down
into it.  She had just come back from the 96th, not from anything
case-related, but from something she had gotten from that wretched FBI
agent whom she liked less and less.

Eight nights had passed since Nick had been arrested.  Two nights ago,
she was given some pictures to prove that he was all right, or at least
not dead.  He had been unconscious or asleep when the pictures were
taken, so she then had requested something more definitive.  She wanted
to know for certain that he was okay.

She had gotten it--a short video clip--although it helped only so much.
Nick hadn't been fully conscious, but she had at least seen him move his
head.  Precisely as in the earlier pictures, he lay sprawled on a thin
and tattered mattress.  And it was blood-stained.  So were his clothes,
and it was far more apparent in the video, which had been taken from a
different angle and appeared to be closer.  Someone had injected him
with something during that small clip.  If she had to guess, she'd say
it was mostly blood, and Agent Gale confirmed that was how they were
feeding the inmates.  At least they weren't starving him, but he had
looked so very out of it.

Natalie hadn't been able to get any information on what specifically had
been done to him.  Agent Gale did confirm that he had become a favourite
target, which is what they had hoped.  That was clear simply from
comparing the different images of him--the bloodstains on his clothes
weren't in the same places each time.  The white scrubs had been
replaced at some point.  The only good news, beyond the fact that he was
still alive and that they were accumulating useful and irrefutable
evidence, was that he also hadn't harmed anyone.

But it wasn't only this that had her angry.  Both Nick's co-workers and
hers had become increasingly hostile.  One of them had commented that
'the only good vampire was a pile of ashes'.  The speaker hadn't even
whispered it, but said it plainly in a low conversational tone to be
sure she heard it.  So, too, had others, and she had caught a few smirks
before looking down at the floor and continuing on her way.

As if that wasn't bad enough, the building in which they lived had been
graffitied, and since no reporters had shown up, she immediately knew
other detectives and officers had done it.  Then, for whatever reason,
they had made sure the media didn't hear about it.

It didn't help that Schanke hadn't said a word to her or done more than
unintentionally glance at her since she had told him that both she and
Nick had actually killed someone...recently.  Schanke had deliberately
kept himself busy and forced her to relay any information relevant to
their cases through Flanagan.

Thankfully, the younger detective didn't have any issues with her.
Flanagan had gone as far as making it clear he didn't and wouldn't
participate in anything 'some of the others had done', as he put it.  He
even asked if it would be all right if he submitted an appeal.  He was
one of the few who believed the arrest had been a mistake, and even
before this, he had been more amiable toward Nick than most of the
others.  She had told him it was fine.  After all, Agent Gale had
explained that more than one person could submit an appeal.  As far as
she was aware, she was the only person who had completed that process so
far.  LaCroix saw no point in submitting one himself; he didn't think
such a request from him would carry much weight.  She agreed.  And since
Schanke wouldn't even talk to her, she seriously doubted he had
submitted one.  Cohen had told her that Agent Gale had specifically
asked her not to do so.  No one else at the precinct had even mentioned
it.

Natalie, in general, had no doubt that she was being shunned.

Her new best friend was LaCroix, of all people.  He continued to stay at
the loft during the day, which had been a comfort when the vandalism had
started the second day after the arrest.  Even so, she slept only
lightly, between having LaCroix there and periodic sounds outside.

Grace came in a close second.  She had called within a day of Nick's
arrest...and left a message on the loft's answering machine.  She still
hadn't changed the message, and she didn't plan to, but more people were
leaving her messages at work than at home now.

Thankfully, neither she nor LaCroix had been there when Grace had
called, but he had been there, watching, when she had called her friend
back.

The other woman had been worried--very worried--but Natalie hadn't felt
comfortable talking on the phone.  Which, of course, meant Grace had
offered to come over.  Insisted on it, even.  Knowing her friend would
now come regardless, she herself had volunteered the loft for the place
to meet.  Cohen had suggested she not work unless she had to for a few
days after Nick's arrest, so they had arranged to meet soon after sunset
the following night.  She would have suggested earlier, but she wanted
to make sure LaCroix was gone...which had taken a bit more than a
request.  He had heard Grace's barely restrained hostility toward
Nick--as far as she had known, he *had* killed that woman, after
all--and he had been hesitant to leave them alone.

Grace's visit, despite LaCroix' worry, had gone quite well, especially
after she had sworn her to secrecy, then told her friend what was really
going on.  Her initial stiff, judging manner had quickly softened, and
the visit became almost enjoyable, although there were other issues
beyond merely what Nick had supposedly done.  Grace had never been to
the loft before that night, so of course she kept looking around at her
surroundings.  The other woman had noticed the lack of much that was
obviously Natalie's.  She had brushed that off, but then came the
somewhat dreaded topic of her no longer being mortal.

Grace couldn't immediately tell anything had changed, although she had
made a little quip that becoming a vampire must shave off a few months
or more of a person's age.  Natalie knew--or guessed--that wasn't quite
accurate.  She suspected becoming a vampire eliminated any deficiencies,
giving the newly turned vampire a healthier appearance, especially if
well-fed.

She had also ended up lying, which had felt both so easy and so hard.
When they talked, she made or helped Grace assume Nick had been the one
who had brought her across.  And she certainly didn't mention that
LaCroix was currently living there at the loft with her.  Like it or
not, she felt that it would frighten--and possibly distance--her friend
if she knew the truth about their relationship.  And, like it or not,
having had LaCroix bring her across rather than Nick probably *did* make
a difference.

That wasn't the only thing she had kept from her friend.  Grace had
asked how her co-workers were treating her, and she hadn't really gone
into detail.  She was thankful that she had been able to put the Caddy
in the garage.  She had left her own car at the morgue, but it had still
gotten a nasty scratch in the paint that very first day.  Someone had
keyed it.  If everything didn't stop soon, she had decided she would run
some forensics tests of her own to figure out who was doing what.  It
might only be one or two individuals, and if they wanted to harass her,
frankly, she was going to harass them right back.  She was sick and
tired of this.

She didn't mention any of that to Grace, and her friend had dropped by
the loft before the graffiti had appeared.  If she had, the other woman
would have probably made a big deal out of it...and she didn't really
want her friend to worry.  She didn't like having someone worry about
her.  It merely made her start worrying...about lots of things--not
herself, but primarily Nick and Schanke.

And work did not help distract her.  At all.  No amount of paperwork or
dead bodies could at this point, she didn't think, but she was trying.

Grabbing a form with the intention of ordering some supplies, she heard
the doors open.  Great, another person to ogle her.  Even before
looking, she could hear the individual's quick pulse.  She glanced up
and found Schanke standing there, carefully avoiding her gaze.  She
grimaced and looked away, then asked, "What do you need?  Flanagan gave
you the toxicology report, right?"

He merely shifted his stance at first, obviously uncomfortable.
Finally, he started, "Er, I'm not here about the case..."

"Coming to see if I'll bite your head off, huh?" she said flatly,
shooting a quick, sharp glare at him.

"I--" he started, but he stopped when he looked up slightly to see a
clearly angry Natalie.  She barely looked in control of the rage inside
her.  There was something about her stony expression that froze him in
place.

"You know I'm capable of it, Schanke.  Probably more so than Nick.  He,
at least, has had centuries to try and learn to control that impulse.  I
haven't."

Fidgeting even more, he mumbled, "I actually wanted to ask
something...about what you said."

"Then ask."

"Did you tell me everything?  I mean about what you and Nick did..."

"Pretty much."

"I've been thinking, and I want to know what...  With the two women
you...  What would have happened if he hadn't, you know..."

Natalie looked away.  She had wondered if he might ask, had been
surprised he hadn't when she had originally told him.  Truthfully, she
answered, "I think LaCroix would have broken my neck."

The mortal's eyes went wide.  "Broken your--"

"Neck," she finished, nodding.  "To make me kill them both."  Then she
took in a slow breath.  "He knew that I would have recovered relatively
quickly, and then been completely out of control when...  I would have
killed both of them, Skank.  I probably wouldn't have even been aware of
what I was doing.  No matter what either of us did, those women wouldn't
have survived the night, but their deaths could have been a lot more
brutal.  So...rather than have me kill both of them, Nick..."  Her voice
trailed off despondently as she reluctantly remembered that fateful
night.

"Nat?"

"When I had refused the first time, LaCroix still killed the victim he
had chosen for me.  For his second so-called 'lesson', I knew then that
those two women would die, one way or another.  I'm sure of it.  I know
it might not be moral or right, but nothing we did or didn't do would
have changed the final outcome.  Not with LaCroix in charge."

Schanke's attitude seemed to soften a bit as Natalie explained their
situation.  He still wasn't done with his questions, though.  "Why--  I
know I kinda asked him to tell me if something like this ever...but why
tell me--"

Natalie realised what he was trying to say, and cut him off, explaining,
"Mainly because of Briggs transferring out.  He wanted you to know what
he had done before you have to decide whether or not to stay his
partner."

"Or make me feel better about it, if I don't get the choice," Schanke
muttered.

She watched him look away, knowing what he said might be a possibility;
both Tracy Vetter and Robert Flanagan were relatively new detectives,
the former more so than the latter.  The obvious fix was to split up the
veteran team of Nick and Schanke.  That's why everyone was being
shuffled around recently--to see who worked well with whom.

"You know, if that happens, I'm not sure he'd stay," he said a bit
louder.  Then, slowly, he asked, "Do you know if he's doing okay?"

"They're keeping him sedated all or most of the time, from what I can
tell."

"But--"

"Schanke, honestly that's all I know.  You can ask Cohen to show you
what she showed me, but it's not really helpful."  After a pause, she
hesitantly explained, "He's not exactly up and walking around," and
watched Schanke quickly pale.  "Supposedly that's normal at first.  They
back off on the amount of sedative slowly, then stick with the highest
dose that doesn't cause constant unconsciousness."

"Is he...do you think he's doing okay?"

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know how he's doing.  All I *am* sure of
is that he's alive."

"So...what about you?  People giving you a hard time because--"

"Because I'm a vampire or because I'm his wife?"

"Er, I was going to say because you're his best friend, but...yeah."

Her anger popped back up again, although not at Schanke.  "Well, someone
keyed my car."  She had intended to keep that information to herself,
but her frustration with the situation and her desire to mend the fences
between them overrode her inhibitions.

"Your car--"

She sighed and nodded.  "And there's graffiti on the garage door, door,
outside walls...  I'm not sure if that is meant for Nick or me or both
of us."

"Graffiti?  People--"

"Yeah, Schanke.  And, well, the only two people who have been even
vaguely nice to me on more than a one-time basis are your temporary
partner and LaCroix."

Schanke swallowed at that.  He hadn't realised she'd...  He'd gotten a
few comments, but no one had done anything to *his* car or home.  And
half of what he got was along the lines of pity.  Although 'sorry your
partner turned out to be a murderer' wasn't exactly friendly, it wasn't
overly hostile either.  "Have you said anything to anyone?"

She shook her head.  "No, or not yet anyway."

"You haven't reported--"

"No, I haven't, but the next thing I find, I'm collecting evidence and
figuring out who did it."

"You should at least tell Cohen."

"No."

He shifted his weight.  "You could have at least told me."

"When?  This whole last week you've walked away if I was even in the
same room or--"

"I swear, Nat, I didn't know anything about what was happening.  If I
knew who..."

She nodded, closing her eyes for a moment.  She could hear his anger
building.  "I know."

"And if you find out who has been harassing you, I want to know so I
can--"

"*I* will deal with it, Schanke," she stated, watching him pull back
slightly when her eyes flared gold for a moment.

"You won't, you know, er..."

"I won't hurt them, just make sure they don't do it again," she assured
him, then watched him shift again.  "So you came here to...?"

"I wanted to tell you that I'm trying to get used to the idea of...er,
what you said.  Still working on it a bit, but..."

"You don't have to be okay with it, Schanke.  I don't expect you to, and
Nick certainly doesn't.  I think he's actually a bit afraid you'll
either say something or say nothing."

"And he really knows you told me?"

"He told me to tell you, yeah.  He wanted to tell you himself earlier,
but it's not exactly the easiest thing to bring up, and he didn't feel
right doing it during his stint as Cohen's replacement."

He absently nodded, but didn't turn to go.  Instead, his eyes darted
around the room a little--in particular, to the cold room where the
bodies were kept.  "Er, off the subject, but I kinda heard you got
another look-alike..."

Natalie turned away at that and shivered a bit.  The latest was body
number five in the past six months, and the third in the past two.  And
they were all petite-to-average women with curly light brown or dark
blonde hair and porcelain-pale skin.  It was getting a bit
disturbing--the latest resembled her enough that they could be sisters.

"Guess that's a yes."

"Yeah, it's a yes.  Worst one so far."  Catching his glance toward the
adjacent room again, she told him, "She's not here anymore.  It's been a
bit over a week now.  She was buried yesterday."  She sighed at that.
"Probably about time for another one, assuming they don't catch
whoever's killing them.  They've been getting closer together."

"They ask if you'd be bait?"

Natalie stared at him and pondered his question; honestly, that was
probably a good idea, but...  "Nope.  The two on the case haven't been
too fond of me since they found out I had been brought over."

Schanke grimaced in disapproval.  "And I bet they love you even less
now."

"Yep."

"Probably about as much as I did this last week..." he slowly added,
then he backed up toward the door.  "You'll let me know if you find
anything out about how Nick's doing, right?"

She relaxed and nodded.

"And do you think Cohen would let me see what you saw?"

"I can't say for sure, but I think she would.  Maybe ask if she's gotten
anything new if you don't ask tonight," she suggested, then watched
Schanke nod before he slipped out the doors.  She doubted there would be
anything new for Schanke to see; just the few pictures and the short
video.  She probably should have warned him about Nick's blood-stained
clothes...



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (098/111)

That day, Natalie went home and felt better...at first.  Schanke coming
over had helped reduce at least some of her anxiety, but his mention of
the other case had really put her off.  Nick had known about it, of
course, but he also knew she didn't like talking about it.

As she fell asleep, despite knowing that she couldn't be killed like
these women had been killed--with a 9mm--it scared her just enough that
she dreamt about it.  Then, at some point, Nick made his way into her
dream.

Nick in that horrid room...  His clothes had been changed again, a fresh
white, and he was mostly awake now, but terribly weak.  Two burly men
were holding him against a wall, and he was piteously terrified.
Terrified, but unable to do anything, either because he wasn't strong
enough, or because he didn't want to end up there for real.  Then she
saw someone coming at Nick with a wooden spike, and his expression
turned to agony.

At that she woke, bolting upright and trembling from the dream.  "Just a
dream," she muttered to herself.  "It's not real.  It's just a dream.  A
dream..." she repeated, closing her eyes.

She jumped and twisted upon feeling hands on her shoulders.  LaCroix.
She wasn't too surprised--after all, he had been sleeping in the bedroom
with her--but he had been unexpectedly considerate and left her alone.
Considering how she felt, she wondered if she had hit him or something
while she dreamt.  "I'm sorry.  Just a bad dream."

"About?"

"Has to do with...work.  Sort of."  It both was and was not a lie.  It
had started with that, at least.

"And?"

Natalie closed her eyes.  "And then it had something to do with Nick,"
she admitted.  "I think it was...  It was only a dream."  Glancing back
at him, she could see he didn't believe her.

"You are frightened."

"Of course I'm frightened!  I just had a nightmare!  But I'll be...I'll
be all right in a bit," she told him and started to lie back down.

"What do you remember of your dream?"

Natalie stopped, hunching over a little and holding the comforter firmly
in front of her.  She really didn't want to talk about it.  "It wasn't
much.  I don't want to--"

"What did you see?" he demanded.

She took in a deep breath and sighed, answering, "They were holding Nick
in place while someone was about to stake him.  Not in the heart, I
don't think...but I woke up before that happened.  I'm sure it was only
a dream."  The last she said more for herself than LaCroix.  His
question made her wonder if he thought her dream had been real; the
lingering fear she now felt did remind her of the night Nick had been
arrested, but it was probably nothing.  Her brain was simply connecting
the event and the dream.

"Come, my child."

Natalie started first at the words, then again upon feeling a hand pull
her shoulder back, turning her onto her side.  She pushed against him at
first, not wanting him to hold her, but she quickly gave up and let him
pull her down next to him.

While they had both been sleeping in the bed the past week, they had
slept apart.  She wasn't entirely comfortable with him holding her, but
she shut her eyes and tried to make herself relax.  She needed to go
back to sleep, if at all possible.  Her fingers fiddled at her neck,
where she had Nick's wedding ring on the chain her locket was on.
Touching it helped calm her thoughts.  It was merely a dream, a
subconscious mental image of what they might be doing to him.

And there was nothing she could do, whether or not it had actually
happened or not.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Captain?" Natalie asked that evening, after being called in to the
96th.  It was supposed to be her night off, and while she had planned to
come by at some point--albeit more toward morning--she couldn't help but
worry.  "Did something happen to Nick?" she asked nervously, wondering
if this had something to do with her nightmare earlier that day.

"No, Doctor, this is mostly work related."

"Mostly?"

Cohen looked the other woman over; it was hard not to see how nervous
Natalie was.  "I've heard that someone vandalised your car.

"Captain--"

"And the building you live in."

"It's nothing."

"It is not nothing.  I drove by to see for myself.  You are being
harassed and should have reported this immediately."

"I can deal with it on my own."

"No, you cannot and will not.  If anything else happens, I expect you to
report it, or at the very least inform me of it."  After a short pause,
Cohen continued, "Now, has Detective Carver asked if you would be
willing to be bait for his case?"

"No," she rather stiffly stated.

Cohen sighed.  "I suspected as much.  He said he had asked and you had
refused.  Apparently, that is not the case."  She paused again, watching
Natalie tense.  "Would you refuse?"

"Of course not.  I'm a dead-ringer for the victims, and I wouldn't be in
any real danger."

"You would have to dress and at least publicly act the part."

"I know what it would entail," she said.  The victims had all been
high-end prostitutes, but the idea didn't bother her.  She wouldn't have
to dress any more provocatively than she did on occasion, and again, she
knew she wouldn't be in any danger.  Even if she couldn't prevent the
suspect from 'killing' her, a gun wouldn't do any lasting damage.  Not
that she particularly wanted to be shot, but she suspected it would
happen sooner or later.  "I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Do you trust Carver and his partner to back you up?"

Natalie hesitated, but shook her head and answered, "Not really."
Despite that the first victims were murdered before she was even a
vampire, after the latest victim, Carver had snidely commented that this
was all probably her fault, that she was the actual target from seducing
and then killing some poor woman's husband.  On Carver's watch, she'd be
shot for sure, possibly more than once if the suspect attempted to get
away.

"I'll have Schanke and Flanagan provide backup."

"I don't want it to look like I'm--"

"Carver screwed up, not you.  When he said you had refused, I suspected
he hadn't bothered to ask.  His captain actually asked me to see if I
could change your mind."

"Because the others are afraid of me now.  They think being a vampire
has changed me, made me more like Nick."

Cohen didn't answer immediately, but she nodded.  "I don't know why they
can't see you're still the same person.  Until this past week, they
couldn't care less what--"

"It's because of what Nick supposedly did.  They obviously think I must
have killed someone by now, too."

"Which is no excuse.  If the case gets reassigned, it won't in any way
be because of you, Natalie.  They brought it on themselves."  Cohen
paused, then tried to smile lightly.  "I'll let you know when we're
ready."

She nodded, but she didn't budge.  "Captain, have you heard anything
new--"

"I'm sorry, Natalie, I don't know anything more than you do.  The last
information I received was the video you saw last night."

This time after nodding, she started toward the door, although
reluctantly.  "Did Schanke--"

"He saw the stills and video late this morning," Cohen told her,
wondering if that was causing the other woman's nervousness, but if
anything, she now appeared even worse.  "Do you have any reason to think
that something has happened to Nick?"

Natalie took her hand off the door and shook her head.  "No, I--  It's
silly, but...  I had a strange dream today, and somehow seeing that Nick
is all right would make me feel better."

"If anything happened today, I probably won't hear about it until
tomorrow, at the earliest."

"I know."

"You can watch what I received last night again, if you'd like."

Natalie watched Cohen pull open a drawer of her desk, but she shook her
head.  Cohen would have to leave her desk; the tape was her
responsibility and she wasn't supposed to let it out of her sight.  "No,
Captain, it's all right."  She suspected it wouldn't help, anyway.  Her
mind already knew that everything on the tape had happened prior to her
dream.

"I will call you the moment I know anything more," Cohen said when
Natalie again reached for the door.

"Thanks," was all she felt like muttering, then she left, only to make
it not quite halfway to the exit before Nick's partner--or possibly soon
to be ex-partner--cut off her path.  "Schanke--"

"I didn't say anything.  I swear."

"Didn't say..." she started, only to realise he was probably talking
about the vandalism.

"About the graffiti and your car getting keyed.  Cohen asked me about it
earlier, if I knew."  He shifted.  "Is it really that bad?  I mean, I
haven't seen what they did to the warehouse, but I think Cohen--"

"She's seen it.  She drove by, apparently."

"Is that what she wanted to see you about?  I know you're off
tonight..."

"Partly."

"She hear anything more about Nick?"

She shook her head.

"In the pictures..." he started, then whispered, "Natalie, is that blood
on his--"

"Yeah, it's blood, and no, I don't know what they've done to him so
far."

"Or when he's coming back?" he whispered, anxiously hoping this
operation could be wrapped up quickly and he'd get his partner and
friend back.

Natalie shook her head again at that.  All she knew was he'd be released
sometime within the next three weeks, and that there was no guarantee
she would know ahead of time.

"What else did she talk to you about?  I didn't say anything about--"

"Schanke!" Cohen called from her office.

Natalie winced.  "I think you're about to find out," she said then left,
hoping she wouldn't be called back in.  She wasn't, only Schanke and his
temporary partner.  She hated the idea that, as far as anyone knew, Nick
wasn't coming back.  For her, at least, it felt odd without him there.
Even when he did go on vacation, she always saw him.  He'd drop by the
morgue or she'd drop by his place, and after the last several months
living with him more often than not, it was just...it was difficult.

Leaving the precinct feeling worse than when she had arrived, she headed
back home.  She wasn't sure whether she hoped LaCroix would still be
there or she'd have the loft to herself for a little while.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (099/111)

"Are you absolutely certain you want to do this, Schanke?" Natalie asked
while they sat outside one of the hotels in which the women had been
shot.  They were waiting in his car, with Robert Flanagan sitting in the
back seat.

"I think you ran through everyone else who's even mildly willing and
fits the description," he muttered, not looking at Natalie.  Other than
the similar appearance of the victims, the only other common denominator
was that the men with whom they had last been seen were all between
forty and sixty.  The previous night had been Natalie's first night as
bait, and there were no takers.  It didn't help that the other
detectives and officers who had volunteered didn't look too thrilled
with their so-called 'bait'.  Most looked like they were the bait...and
knew it.

"But are you okay with this?"

"I don't know.  Are you?" he asked, turning his head.  "I don't think
Nick would be too thrilled."

"Er, Dr. Lambert--Knight, I mean--" Flanagan awkwardly interrupted.

"I should head inside.  I know.  And don't worry, I won't eat anyone."
She glanced down at her bare legs--last night she had been allowed to
wear something of her own, but tonight they had provided her with
something that fell a bit out of her comfort zone.  It was almost too
much, considering that she wasn't dressing to be the sort of prostitute
that stood out, but it was what she was stuck with.  There would be no
question that she was unarmed tonight, nor any question what she was
there for.  She tried to focus, and flashed Schanke a nervous smile.
"See you in a few," she said, getting out of the car.

She walked the short distance to the main street, then down to the
hotel's entrance.  It was one of the nicer hotels, and she got a few
looks--some interested, some disapproving--as she entered and crossed to
the desk.  That was yet another commonality.  From the detectives who
had managed to pin down the last person who had seen the victims, they
had learned that all of the women had had a room ready, and they were
the ones who lured the men inside.  Once she had her room key--the room
was under a false name, of course--she picked a spot to people-watch.
Schanke wouldn't be in right away and, as she expected, given her dress,
or nearly un-dress in this case, she had to beat off two young men
attempting to proposition her before he did.

She had to force herself not to smile at Schanke...or laugh or giggle.
He was wearing one of his best suits, by the look of it, and trying a
little too hard to appear as though he knew what he was doing.  That
wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it didn't help her focus any.  After
he had glanced at her twice but hadn't approached--as they had
planned--she started toward him.  To any outsiders it would look like
she was the one seducing him.  Being friends, it was much easier to act
friendly with Schanke than it had been with the three detectives the
night before.  She had felt like she had dragged all of them away, but
Schanke acted much more like he was supposed to, even if he was pliable
more due to fear and anxiety than nervous excitement.  At least he
didn't *look* afraid, like the others had.

She kept up the pretence until they made their way to the room, leaning
over him one last time when she unlocked the door, then she entered and
walked in without Schanke, discarding her more friendly, almost
seductive tone and behaviour.

He shut the door then leaned up against the wall beside it, staring a
bit slack at Natalie's back.  "What is it with you guys, anyway?
Vampires send out pheromones or something?"

"No more than any other humans, Schanke," she said, reluctantly turning
around.  He definitely looked a bit out of it.  "Or not that I'm aware."

"You didn't do any, er...coaxing, did you?"

"Ah, no."

"And you're sure Knight won't kill me for this when he gets back?"

"Nick won't hurt you...unless you lose our rings or something," she told
him.  Schanke had them in his desk back at the precinct, both her ring
and Nick's, which she had continued to wear on her necklace since she
couldn't wear it herself, and which she had taken off.  "I'm not sure
it's him you need to worry about, though.  You *did* tell Myra you're
doing this, right?"  She watched him shift uncomfortably at her
question, and she smiled.  "Nope, Nick won't be the problem."

He shifted awkwardly again.  There wasn't much they could do but talk.
"About him--have you heard anything new since...?"

Natalie shook her head.  She hadn't heard a peep, not even another
useless photo of him lying there unconscious.

"It's been, what--ten days now?"

"Yeah, I think," she replied, counting back the days in her head.  Nick
had been arrested on the 23rd of January, and they were now two days
into February.  Yep, ten days.  It felt more like a month.  He might
only be a third into his time if they kept him the maximum amount of
time.  That did nothing to help how she felt, and she sat uncomfortably
on the edge of the bed.  She had had a couple more strange and
unsettling dreams, as well as an identical repeat of the staking
incident.  She had decided that the dreams had to be nothing more than
her vivid imagination.  They were what she feared would happen to
Nick--things that could be lethal--combined with the knowledge that he
actually had been injured.  The photographs confirmed that much.  Her
mind was subconsciously linking the two.  She also had to remind herself
that the sooner Nick was seriously harmed, the sooner he would be
released.

"You all right, Natalie?"

"Yeah, it just feels like it's been a lot longer than, well, a week and
a half.  I was hoping he'd be back soon."

"He will, I'm sure of it.  Good or bad, they already have a good idea
how much he can take, after he was shot with--"

"No, Skank--"  She cut her protest short.  She hadn't thought about
that, but he was right.  Nick had been shot in the aorta with a wooden
bolt.  It'd make sense that anything near his heart but not actually in
it would heal.  Once again Natalie doubted her thoughts about her
dreams.  It would actually make sense for them to stake him near his
heart.  He had survived something similar once after all, hadn't he?

"Point is, if they *are* torturing the prisoners, I'm pretty sure
they'll see him as a great target.  I mean, well, that was kind of the
point, wasn't it?  And that means they'll let him out sooner rather than
later, right?"  He took a few steps closer, then stopped.  "And then
just you wait, everyone at the station will apologise all over
themselves for treating you like crap while he was gone.  You won't have
to worry about cleaning up the graffiti, either--they'll line up to do
it for you.  And they'll see just how stupid they've been acting about
this whole thing."

Natalie tried to smile, but couldn't.  Schanke's reminder about how they
had treated her didn't help one bit; they weren't sparing him any
comments either, she suspected.  When this was all over, his colleagues
would surely apologise to him too.  "What have they said to you?
Regarding Nick's arrest."

"Oh, just things like 'sorry your partner turned out to be a murderer'.
That kind of stuff," he muttered, dropping his gaze.  "Nothing like the
'you're probably a murderer, too' comments they're probably giving you.
You *are* getting comments like that, aren't you?"

Natalie closed her eyes and nodded.  "Yeah."

"But you're not gonna tell me who said it, right?"

"Nope.  Like you said, they'll realise on their own they shouldn't have.
And a lot of it is more...whispered.  They might not even know I heard.
I don't feel they should get in trouble or even fired over some of what
they've let slip."

"Fired?  Someone threaten you or something?"

Natalie stiffened.  She had been threatened, more than once, but she
didn't think anyone would actually go through with their threats.
"Something."

The next fifteen minutes went by in silence, both of them unsure what to
say.  Then, glancing at his watch, Schanke asked, "Do you know if anyone
followed us up?  You know--if you might have gotten someone's
attention?"

"I couldn't really tell.  There were some people around, but I'm not
sure if anyone deliberately followed us."  She paused to think, then
continued, "Several people have walked down the hall since we've been in
here, a couple rather slowly, and there was someone at the end of the
hall before we came in."

"Is that why you, er..."

"Kinda leaned over and bumped into you when I opened the door?" she
suggested with a grin.  Getting a nod, she answered, "Yeah, and no, I
couldn't tell if they were watching or what."  Standing, she sighed.  "I
guess it's time to leave..."

"Now, remember, just go back down to the lobby--"

"Leave and go back down the street I got out on.  I know.  I did this
last night, Schanke."

"See you shortly, then, I guess.  We'll be watching, and, remember,
leave right at--"

"Eleven-forty.  I know.  It'll be okay."

"And be careful."

"Schanke--" she started, but he darted off toward the door after his
warning and left.  She sighed again after the door shut behind him.  Now
alone, Natalie felt a bit uncomfortable.  She trusted Schanke and
Flanagan, but not so much Carver and his partner.  While Nick had said
getting shot didn't hurt that much, she also remembered how very
uncomfortable Janette had been when she had been shot.

Natalie was only semi-prepared for what might happened when she left the
room a bit over five minutes after Schanke left.  She didn't notice
anyone following her when she entered the elevator, nor was anyone there
when she got in it.  Crossing the lobby, she nearly fell.  She had been
walking a bit faster than was advisable in the slightly too-loose shoes
she had on.  Like the dress, the shoes weren't hers and they were a bit
out of her comfort zone as far as the height of the heels.  She had to
pause for a moment before continuing toward the hotel entrance.

Natalie could now hear footsteps behind her, nearly matching her pace.
She was being followed or, at the very least, someone had left at
roughly the same time she had.  Once outside, she continued to the left
and out onto the not quite deserted street.  Sure enough, the footsteps
continued behind her.  She had a hard time remaining on her designated
path rather than stopping and turning.  All the deaths had occurred on a
smaller street, so if she turned around now, it would likely scare the
person off.

After walking the three blocks to the side street where Schanke's car
was parked near the corner and turning left down that street, Natalie
started feeling far more vulnerable.  She soon passed Carver's car as
well, and felt even more nervous.  She had hoped the person would make
their move between the two teams' cars, but no such luck.  Only once the
street had darkened did Natalie hear the footsteps move nearer, and
finally, once they were loud enough any mortal would turn, Natalie did
precisely that and found a gun aimed directly at her.  She didn't find
it difficult to look frightened.

A young woman held the silenced pistol very steady.  "You've ruined
enough families, whore.  You won't ruin any more!"

Natalie barely had time to digest the words before the woman fired two
shots.  She gasped when the bullets sliced into her.  It *was* painful,
and she fell from the pain and shock to her body.

The woman continued forward, planning to walk past her dying victim, but
Natalie, very much alive, reached up and grabbed her would-be-murderer's
wrist.  The pain from the gunshot wound was quickly dissipating, and she
managed to regain her footing even as the woman spun on her, aiming the
weapon at her once more.  Grabbing the woman's other wrist, she managed
to force her to drop the gun.

Almost simultaneously, Natalie felt another bullet slice into her
shoulder.  She doubled over, taking the woman down to her knees.  Her
eyes blazed yellow and her fangs descended out of anger and hunger.
This time she cried out in pain--the bullet had struck bone--and she
found it difficult to keep her grip on the suspect.  The woman started
screaming obscenities at her, but Natalie focused on ignoring her.  She
waited until someone took the woman off her hands--Carver's partner.
Then she let go and turned around to find that Carver still had his gun
drawn.  It was clear he was the one who had shot her.

Schanke and Flanagan were still a little ways away, but approaching
fast.  On instinct Natalie started walking straight toward Carver, who
again aimed his weapon at her.  Not willing to be shot a fourth time,
she flew forward and shoved him back into the nearest wall, one hand
around the hand with the gun in it, forcing it to fall from his hand,
and her other pinning his shoulder in place.

"Let go of me, you crazy witch!" Carver spat, struggling.

"I'm not a witch."

"Blood-sucking bitch, then.  Let me go, damn it!"

Schanke slowed, thoroughly entranced by the unlikely sight.  Natalie had
Carver--a tall, fit man probably double her weight--pinned against the
wall, and the latter seemed barely able to budge.  He couldn't help but
smile a little.

"Tell her to let me go, Schanke!  Maybe she'll listen to you."

Schanke stared, his attention drifting between Carver's partner, who by
now had handcuffed the suspect--a woman--and Natalie.  He had witnessed
what the other detective had done.  Not every detail, not clearly, but
he knew for a fact that Natalie had disabled the suspect, then been shot
after...by Carver.

"Come on, before she kills me."

"Natalie's not gonna kill you.  If she was, you'd be dead already."

"Tell her to let go of me!"

Schanke shook his head.  "Nah, don't think so.  I think we all like you
right where you are.  Besides, don't ask me to tell her--ask her
yourself.  I suggest you try asking *nicely*; people don't generally
like to be called names when you ask them to do something.  IA is gonna
love this as it is."

"Yeah, she's the one--"

At this, Schanke stepped forward angrily.  "You're the wrong one,
Carver.  You had no reason to shoot, unless you were *trying* to either
get the suspect killed, let the suspect escape, and/or make Natalie hurt
someone.  Either way, you better hope you've got friends higher up,
'cause you don't have any around here."  He turned, preparing to tell
his kid-partner what to do, only to see--much to his surprise--he had
gone to help Carver's partner; he had already retrieved and bagged the
suspect's weapon.

Natalie was having a hard time focusing on something other than
Detective Carver's neck.  She truly wanted to hurt him, but Schanke was
right.  If she seriously intended to kill the man, she would have in
that first instant.  That would have been the only semi-understandable
opportunity to do so.

She was distracted from his neck when she felt him trying to wriggle
free again, which only made her push him harder into the brick wall.

"All right, then.  *Please* let me down, Doctor Knight."

Hungry and in pain, Natalie had no desire to let go.  It didn't help
that now, of all times, Carver finally decided to call her Knight; he
had been calling her simply 'Doctor' since he had found out she and Nick
had married.  Reluctantly she let her arms go slack and she took a
couple of steps backward.  She wasn't about to look away.  Shifting
position so that she stood next to Schanke, she told him, "I'll wait in
the car until he is *gone*."

Trusting that Schanke would keep Carver from going after her, she turned
and winced.  Her shoulder hurt...really hurt.  The detective's bullet
hadn't passed through her like the first two had; those were in the
alley somewhere, and she or someone else would have to retrieve them.
The bullet in her shoulder would be a whole other issue.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (100/111)

"Here.  Put these on," Natalie said, handing her reluctant assistant a
pair of latex gloves.  Once he had taken them, she retrieved her
tools--a scalpel and forceps.  She waited for her helper to reluctantly
pull on the gloves, then she handed the implements to him.  "Now, be
gentle to the bullet, but not to me, all right?"  She pulled a small
container closer to the edge of the counter.  "And put it in here.  Any
questions?"

"I repeat--I am *not* a surgeon."

"You don't need to be.  Have you really never done something like this
before?"

"Could you not have asked Nicholas' partner?" LaCroix suggested.

"Schanke already has extra paperwork because of the shooting, and
frankly, I'm not sure he could manage cutting into me.  It's not like
it's life or death--more annoying than anything--but I need the bullet
for evidence.  He'd just hesitate and suggest I get one of the techs to
do it or something, and they'd just...  Look.  It'll take you less time
to simply do it than argue about it, okay?"  She waited for a response,
but he still didn't seem thrilled.  "Come on, I want out of this dress,
if you can call it that."  She caught an ever-so-slight smile, then she
turned her back to him and waited.  She shivered when gloved fingers
touched her barely healed shoulder.  "You should be able to feel it."

LaCroix could feel the object, the bullet, although only barely.  He
wished she hadn't given him the gloves; he'd prefer to feel her skin
directly.  Sensing his child was becoming annoyed at his reluctance, he
did as she asked, using the scalpel to cut into her skin, slicing deeper
and deeper to reach the chunk of metal.  She twitched a bit at his
actions, then he quickly and easily removed the bullet and dropped it
into her container.

"See, I figured you'd done that before.  After all, someone had to
de-lead Nick from time to time, and I sincerely doubt Janette did that.
However much I think you'd enjoy watching him suffer from his
foolishness, I'm sure you'd eventually give in, complaining all the
while, of course."  She examined the bullet in the container.  "Yep, a
.45--exactly what I thought."  She capped the container and set it back
down, then she jumped and turned around upon feeling a cool, bare hand
touch the back of her shoulder.  He had removed one of the gloves and
she caught him licking blood from his fingers--her blood, judging by
where he had touched her.

"You don't mind, do you?"

Natalie didn't know what to say; she did mind that he had done it
without permission, but she supposed she didn't have much say in the
matter.

"As exquisite as ever."  He licked off a few more drops he had missed.
"Should I ask...who shot you?"  His eyes darted down her.  "Twice in the
front, and once in the back, if I'm not mistaken.  What foolhardy coward
resulted in you needing my assistance?"

"That coward will be dealt with without your assistance," she said,
turning away again.  "Thank you for coming."

"You're welcome.  However...I think you know I am not leaving quite
yet."  He moved forward and leaned over her shoulder.  "Who did this to
you?  I'll find out one way or another.  I'm sure you know that."

"I was shot twice by a suspect.  That, I had at least somewhat
expected."  She paused, closing her eyes for a moment.  If nothing else,
at least LaCroix wasn't Nick.  She didn't think LaCroix would go
downright ballistic.  Or she hoped he wouldn't.  "The third was thanks
to the idiot originally in charge of the case.  He has already been
officially taken off the case and had, from what I heard, a pretty nasty
chat with his captain."

LaCroix spun his daughter around to face him, his anger showing.  "This
detective shot you on purpose?"

"I think so," she said, nodding.  "It won't happen again.  I'm sure of
that.  IA will deal with him."

"He better hope they do."

She didn't have to ask about the silently implied 'or else' options.  He
would probably see to it himself.  Or Nick would when he got back.  And
Schanke would chew the other man out somewhere in there, too, even
though he had already done that multiple times before Carver had left
the scene and anyone else had arrived.

She tried to move away from LaCroix, but he still had hold of her arms
from earlier.  "Please...  I'll be all right.  I just need to go back to
the loft to change clothes and drink something before I can find out how
big a mess this is.  Go on.  I'll fill you in in the morning."

He still didn't release her.

"I know you're worried, but--"

"I am not--"

"Yes, you are!  Otherwise you would have left by now."  She paused,
watching him shift his stance; he also loosened his grip on her arm.  "I
will be perfectly fine," she assured him.  "I think you know that.  And
I think we both know what I would do to someone who actually tried to
kill me."  Her words elicited an odd little smile, then he finally
turned and silently left.

Natalie closed her eyes, both relieved, yet not that she was finally
alone.  At least her shoulder felt better, but there was no way she was
going back into the precinct wearing the dress that now had bullet holes
in it.  She had already received a lot of accusing looks, as well as
both whispered and direct comments, during the piddly five minutes she
had remained at the scene after other officers and forensics had
arrived, but before leaving with Schanke and his partner.

She also hadn't had a chance earlier that night to ask Cohen if she had
heard anything more about Nick or had anything new to show her.  She was
far more concerned about his much longer ordeal than her own.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Several days later, without even realising it, Natalie was pacing in her
office.  Two weeks had now passed since Nick's arrest, and the lack of
information was unbearable.  Her dreams had also become ever more grim
and terrifying.  Her worry, combined with her very active imagination
about what they might be doing to Nick, made it nearly impossible to
focus on her work.

The moment Cohen had called about something new that night, she had left
the morgue and flown to the precinct.  Unfortunately, that was what now
resulted in her pacing--whatever it was, it hadn't quite arrived.  Agent
Gale was on her way from the airport, and after arriving at the
precinct, Cohen had instructed her to return to the morgue and wait.

It had been an hour, and Natalie's worry spiralled out of control.  Was
Cohen informing the agent about what had happened four nights before?
Not that it particularly mattered--Carver had shot her, and from her
meetings with IA, it seemed they were in no way reprimanding her for her
actions.  Carver, however, was on a week-long, unpaid suspension while
they determined what to do in response to him shooting her
unnecessarily.  If she were a mortal cop, even with a bullet-proof vest,
the bullet could have caused severe damage.  IA took a dim view of that
idea.  Nor had they liked the possibility that if the bullet hadn't hit
bone and been stopped, it very well could have killed the suspect.

Schanke, Flanagan, and Carver's partner had all told IA the same thing
she had--Carver pulled his weapon after she had already disarmed the
suspect, and that all she had done was continue to hold the woman in
place until she could be more formally detained.  Apparently Carver's
partner preferred keeping his job over keeping his partner.  Detective
Carver had, of course, claimed he had shot her because he thought she
would kill the suspect.  The reason was weak, and IA saw through the
flimsy excuse.  It was fairly widely known by now that regular bullets
didn't do much to a vampire, beyond annoying them by ruining their
clothes and provoking their need for blood.  Carver's irresponsible
actions could easily have made the situation far worse...and IA knew it.

Natalie had been treated considerably better the past few days, with
noticeably fewer comments about her being a likely killer.  After all,
despite being shot three times by two different shooters, she had
managed to do little more than bruise their wrists.  She could have done
far more damage, had she chosen.  She hadn't noticed any further
vandalism after that, either.  Why, she wasn't sure.  It had been Nick's
arrest that had precluded the vandalism, not her becoming a vampire.
She had now been a vampire for nearly three months.  That was more than
half the time that the world had even known about the existence of
vampires, but then Nick had rarely shown what he was in front of his
co-workers and he had been seen more or less as a 'good' vampire.  Until
the arrest.  And if Nick wasn't a 'good' vampire, it only followed that
she couldn't be, either, didn't it?  Especially since everyone assumed
he had brought her across.

Natalie continued to pace, worrying that things would never get back to
the semi-normal they had reached before Nick had insanely agreed to
this, was arrested, and everyone had turned hostile.

And now she also worried about what the new information might be.  The
FBI agent hadn't come in person the other times information about Nick
had become available; she had given it to Cohen, who then showed it to
her.  This time was different.  She could feel it.  And she didn't think
they were ready to release Nick; if that were the case, she could have
surely stayed at the precinct, she thought...  There would no longer be
any reason for Agent Gale to hide her presence from the others to avoid
suspicion and unwanted questions.

When the phone rang, Natalie rushed to it, only to be disappointed.  It,
however, got her mind focused on work for a few minutes...at least until
Gale entered while she was still on the phone.  She eventually cut the
phone conversation short, saying she would come by in person to discuss
the results once the rest of the tests came back.

"I don't want to keep you from anything important, Doctor.  I don't
think those you work for would like that very much."

"Yeah, well, they haven't liked me much all around," she flatly replied.
"Especially recently.  And it's not--it'll be tomorrow before the
results come back anyway.  It's nothing urgent."

"Captain Cohen filled me in on what happened a few nights ago."

Natalie crossed her arms as she met the eyes of the other woman.  She
wasn't going to take the bait.  Gale came in person for a reason.  "What
happened to me is irrelevant.  I want to know what's going on with Nick.
Even if it's only rumour or hearsay, I want to know exactly what they're
doing to him, and I want more than just random photographs."

"Very well.  I'll get right to the point, then."  The mortal woman took
a deep breath, then said, "Their most recent efforts are an attempt to
goad him into attacking an employee."

"Nick won't do it.  It doesn't matter what they do to him, he knows--"

"Normally that may be so.  But they also gave him hallucinogens--large
amounts of multiple drugs.  And to make matters worse...they told him
you are dead."

Natalie stared forward, her mind trying to process what the other woman
had said.  "They told him I'm--"

Agent Gale nodded.  "Dead.  That is correct.  And, from what we have
been able to ascertain, he believes it.  That alone has made him far
more agitated than anything else they've done."

"And what, exactly, have they done to him?"

"Nearly killed him more than a dozen times.  I suppose you could say he
was mortally wounded.  Repeatedly."

"How?" she demanded.

"Staked, shot with arrows--not in the heart, but they are using
wood--severed his spinal cord, and knifed him in the heart.  They have
also burned him using various methods.  They've used combinations of
those techniques, too."  Agent Gale's gaze dropped, and she held up a
folder that she had been holding at her side.  "These are some
pictures."

Natalie snatched the folder and set it on her desk, immediately opening
it.

"Some are from the more severe wounds.  Some are from more minor--"

"Burns," she muttered, seeing one where Nick's arms had been completely
burnt by something--garlic, if she had to guess.  "I want more than
this.  You must have more if you are trying to catch them, prove without
a doubt what they are doing."

"It's not--"

"But you do have more than this, I assume?" she challenged, looking up
from the photographs.

"Yes, I have more--a short video, part of the evidence we gathered--but
I'd rather not waste time showing it to you."

"I want to see it.  I *need* to know what has been done to him, and
words alone won't cut it.  Not any more."

Gale sighed, hoping the delay wouldn't cause issues.  There wasn't a lot
of time, but she nodded and reached forward to gather the file back up.
"All right, but I only have one tape."

"No problem.  Follow me," Natalie said and, assuming the tape she had
was a VHS tape, led the way to the empty break room where she nodded to
the TV.  Before the other woman said a word, she 'locked' the door by
propping a chair under the knob.

A little taken back and nervous, the mortal woman hesitated.

"Now, Agent Gale, if you don't want to waste time...just show it to me."

"Very well, but I should tell you that this is from about a week ago."

"Why does that matter?"

"It was before they started backing off on the sedatives they were
giving him, but also before they started trying to...mess with his
reality by using the...other drugs," she said while she turned on the
television and inserted the tape.  "And, frankly, he hasn't been very
responsive the entire time he's been there, even less so than the other
inmates.  I don't know if that is because they have given him higher
doses of the medications, or if it's some...psychological reaction."

Now Natalie stiffened as well.  She hoped it was the former, and not
because Nick was allowing their actions simply because he felt he
deserved it.

Gale, meanwhile, started playback of the tape, turning the volume up so
that it would be easily audible.  In a stark white room were five
people--Nick, two orderlies, a guard, and what could only be one of the
prison's administrators.

The two orderlies forced Nick to his feet...and met no resistance.  On
the ground lay a blood-stained shirt.  Nick's.  It had been taken from
him, likely shortly before the playback had started.  His eyes dim and
unfocused, he looked vaguely in the direction of the guard and the
well-dressed man, but he neither met their gazes nor tried speaking to
them.  He was conscious, but weak.

The two men also didn't address their prisoner.  Instead, the man in the
suit spoke to the guard, ordering the man to shoot him...with an arrow.
Specifically, the man wanted him to try and closely replicate the injury
that had revealed Nick's nature to the world, which explained why they
had removed his shirt.  The guard had probably been instructed where to
aim, in an effort to hit what was a very precise location.

Then the man nodded to the orderlies, who pulled Nick back toward the
wall, which they then held him against.  Nick almost looked up at the
two men across from him, but not quite.  Instead, he tensed a little.
He knew pain was coming, even if he wouldn't or couldn't react further.

Natalie looked to Gale, but the agent nodded back to the video.  "You
wanted to see more of what has happened to him.  I suggest you keep your
focus on the screen."

Natalie didn't really want to see anymore, knowing what would happen.
The well-dressed man spoke to the guard again, the latter raised a
bow--a recurve bow, not a crossbow--and a few seconds later let loose
the arrow.  Natalie flinched when it hit, which was about all Nick did.
He had closed his eyes and bowed his head, but he apparently didn't have
the strength to do more, not while being held against the wall.  In
fact, he seemed to be leaning more on the two men.  One of them pushed
him back and he tensed visibly, enough to confirm he was still alive.
The two were next commanded to lay him back down, which took a little
work.  Nick definitely couldn't stand as they tried to move him away
from the wall.  Then, when they did, she saw blood.  The orderlies or
nurses appeared concerned, but they were told to leave the--apparently
broken--arrow in place.

And that was where Gale stopped the tape.

"That's torture, plain and simple, by anyone's standards," Natalie said
as the woman pulled the tape out and turned the television off.

"Yes, it is, and they waited over a day before they finally removed what
was left of the arrow.  He had managed to pull parts of it out on his
own, but not a splintered piece that he couldn't get by himself."

"Probably what they were worried about."

"Probably," the agent echoed.  "He kept falling unconscious.  They
eventually sedated him and removed a piece that had worked its way into
his heart."

"And he recovered?"

"Physically, at least on the surface."

Natalie took in a deep breath.  "When will he be released?"

"We are already making arrangements."

"But when?  I want to know when he will be released," she repeated,
glancing at the tape and folder in the other woman's hands.

"That's why I'm here.  I am prepared to take you there to get him," Gale
calmly replied, not even slightly fazed by the anger the other woman
showed.  "We believe he will respond best to you, and after a few days
ago, possibly only to you.  As I said, they have given him a combination
of different hallucinogens--all classes."

"All..."  Natalie's mind froze again.  Hallucinogens, as a whole, didn't
necessarily affect individuals in the same manner, nor to the same
degree, but mixing them like that...  No wonder they had managed to
convince Nick she was dead.  "Has he...has he hurt anyone?"

"No, not the last I heard."

"And when was that?"

Gale glanced at her watch.  "About six hours ago."

"And they started him on these--when?"

"They've had him on dissociatives--ketamine--for over a week, even
before that clip I just showed you, probably as a way of dulling
whatever pain he might feel."

"To make any means of inflicting pain seem more acceptable," Natalie
reworded.  "Did they take into account--"

"That they need a far higher dose for a vampire to feel any affect?
Yes, they took that into account.  Whether it was not enough or too
much, however...  It's not really something that's been studied yet.
And it's likely that if they were merely studying the effects of the
drugs without additional physical and mental harm..."

"You wouldn't be here and Nick wouldn't be there."  Natalie nodded,
understanding what the agent was implying.  They did in fact want the
opportunity to study vampires, and a prison would likely be the only
vaguely appropriate location, barring volunteer participation in a
proper study, which she doubted would have enough, if any, volunteers.
Not now.  Maybe in a few years or decades, but right now the world in
general eagerly wanted to know, at the very minimum, how to deal with
them, with vampires.  And they didn't particularly care how they
obtained that information.

"Four days ago, they added other hallucinogens shortly before they lied
to him about you."  Agent Gale hesitated, then handed the file back out
to Natalie.  "Go on.  There's more."

Natalie flipped through more photographs.  In the last three, Nick
either simply sat in a corner or was curled up on the thin mattress.
His shirt had blood and a couple of tears in it--all the pictures were
the same in that regard, but his expression became progressively less
passive, less calm.  Unlike all of the other pictures, Nick was no
longer clean shaven.  "The last three photos--"

"Are from the last three days.  The blood is from three days ago.  He
won't let anyone near him long enough to change his clothes, and they
aren't sedating him any longer.  Nor have they given him any blood."

"Because they want him to lose control," Natalie whispered.  "To lose
control and prove he's still a killer."

"Precisely, but no one actually wants to lose their life.  Other than
giving him the hallucinogens, they're mostly leaving him alone in the
apparent hope that he will go mad and do something.  They're trying to
break him, and I'm sorry to say that it appears to be working.  He also
no longer seems able to recognise the nurse who primarily works with
him, but as you could see, he is, for the most part, unresponsive.  And
no one knows what other effects the drugs are having."

Now Natalie realised there were possibly other reasons to have her there
and realised he might not even recognise her.  Or, if he did, he might
think she were some dream, another sadistic trick, and not even
acknowledge her.  Reluctantly she flipped the folder closed.  "When are
we leaving?"

"I assume you will want to return home for some things.  You probably
will not be back here until at least tomorrow night at the earliest, and
you may wish to take him some clothes and--"

"I have a bag here in my car.  What else can I bring?  My medical bag?"

"No.  You won't be allowed to take anything into the prison, other than
yourself or anything we provide.  The goal is to remove him from the
facility before dawn and treat him elsewhere if anything can or needs to
be done, beyond giving him time to heal on his own."

"Then I want to bring my bag and whatever else--"

"Please, Doctor, I assure you that you will have access to anything you
might need."

Natalie held her response; asking more questions would only delay their
departure.  She briefly wondered who would determine exactly what she
'might need'.  "Do I need to do anything in regards to leaving work or,
I assume, missing it tomorrow night?"

"Captain Cohen is handling that."

"Of course."  Focusing, Natalie first headed back to her desk, where she
locked all but her wallet and coat in a drawer.  Leaving again, Agent
Gale followed close behind her.  Pulling her car keys out of her coat,
she unlocked the trunk of her car and pulled out a small, half-full bag.
The contents consisted of clothes for Nick and their passports--she
hadn't really thought much about herself when she had packed it.

"Who keyed it?"

The question snapped Natalie out of her thoughts, and she retrieved the
bag and slammed the trunk.  "Don't know, beyond it likely being one of
the detectives.  My car was here when they did it."

"Were you?"

"No, it was already done when I came to work."

"And Detective Knight's--"

"Hasn't been touched.  It's in a garage.  The garage hasn't fared as
well, though.  Graffiti.  Anti-vampire version, of course."

"And his partner's?"

"Mostly they just pity him for being taken as a fool.  They haven't
actually done anything to him, his car, or his home, although he has had
his share of comments."

"That will change shortly."

Natalie turned rather sharply toward the other woman.  "What do you
mean?"

"News of what Detective Knight did will reach the media, and I suspect
it will spread very quickly after that.  We plan to try and keep news
crews away from the prison itself, but we can only do so much to contain
the details of what we're doing."  Gale paused, but quickly added,
"Which, before you ask, is to ensure that those imprisoned are treated
fairly, which apparently means adding more surveillance and probably
switching out most, if not all, of the employees.  Only Detective Knight
will be released.  The other prisoners will remain incarcerated, at
least for the time being."

"When do we leave?"

"The moment we get to the plane.  We can continue this conversation on
the way."

Natalie simply nodded in reply, then followed the other woman to her
car, a rental.  She kept hold of the bag, not bothering to put it in the
trunk.  She did not look forward to being trapped with the agent for the
next several hours.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (101/111)

"Where is Nick?" Natalie demanded when Agent Gale started to lead her to
a cell later that morning--but not Nick's.  No one gave her a second
glance, probably thanks to the FBI jacket she had on.  She looked like
yet another member of law enforcement at a crime scene...which was
precisely what this situation felt like.  But after a four hour flight,
another forty-five minutes in a car, and dawn rapidly approaching, she
wanted Nick out of there as soon as possible, yet they almost seemed to
be deliberately delaying that.  She came to a halt and repeated, "Where
is he?"

"I will take you to him once--"

"I am not doing *anything* until I see for myself that he is all right!"
she said, her harsh tone attracting the attention of everyone within
earshot.  Nodding to one of the plain doors along the sides of the wide
hall, where two security screens showed the occupant, she said, "I at
least want to see for myself that he is here.  So I want you to take me
to wherever they're holding him.  Now.  Understand?"

Gale hesitated at first, but then nodded, checked a clipboard she held,
and took them the opposite direction down the hall, reading numbers
outside the rooms.  She stopped at the room labelled 084 and nodded up
at the small screens.

Natalie braced herself before looking up.  Nick was sitting, knees up
against his chest, in one corner of the room.  He didn't look well, yet
didn't appear to be in any immediate distress.  He sat there, staring
blankly at the wall next to him.  She couldn't actually see his face
from where the cameras were.  She closed her eyes and turned away so
that she wouldn't see him when she reopened her eyes.  "Okay, now what
else do you want me to do?"

"Just make sure a couple of the other prisoners will be all right,
that's all.  It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Then let's get on with it," she said, nearly snapping at the agent.

"I'm sorry.  We do want to help them, but it's safest for you to do this
for us, and frankly there aren't yet any agents in any of the agencies
working on this with a medical knowledge of vampires, let alone any
vampires.  We only want to ensure that they don't have life-threatening
injuries."

Natalie tried to relax and merely nodded this time, then followed the
agent back the way they had come.

The first prisoner they asked her to check on was a man who appeared to
be in his early- to mid-thirties.  He was fully unconscious, it seemed,
and had what appeared to be bullet wounds in his shoulder.  It reminded
her of when LaCroix had been shot, but the wounds were at least all
non-fatal.  Stating as much, and that all they needed do was sedate him,
remove the bullets and give him blood, Agent Gale escorted her to
another cell.

This time the agent didn't accompany her inside, where she found a young
woman who appeared to be around twenty, curled up in a corner.  Unlike
Nick, she seemed very much alert and in pain.  The woman hissed at her
when she approached, seeming far more afraid than ready to attack.  It
looked as though she had been shot with arrows--recently.  Two bloody
arrows lay on the floor.  A third remained in place.  It had to be
rather close to her heart, which explained why no one had removed it.
Natalie didn't take the time to do so herself, merely telling Agent Gale
that the inmate would recover once the arrow was removed, which would
have to be done under heavy sedation.  It was difficult not to think of
Nick as she had examined the woman.  They had done this to him, too.

Finally she was escorted back to Nick's room, where she was allowed
entry.  Again the FBI agent didn't follow, which Natalie figured was a
good thing when Nick turned toward her...with a look of pure disgust,
his eyes burning gold.  He turned his head back around toward the wall
almost immediately.  She walked forward and knelt next to him.  His
clothes looked like the same as the ones in the last photographs, his
facial hair ever so slightly more obvious.  "Nick?"

"Stop this--stop trying to trick me.  You're not real.  You're dead."

Natalie nearly pulled away at his words.  His tone reminded her of when
he had been drunk on blood--or like that first night they had met--only
he somehow sounded even worse now.  "Nick, I'm not trying to trick you.
It's me, Natalie.  Really.  You're not imagining me.  They lied to you.
They told you I was dead specifically to make you upset.  They hoped it
would drive you crazy enough to finally try to kill someone.  They
wanted to prove you were still a killer."

He didn't look at her, instead just continued to stare at the wall in an
apparent attempt to ignore her.

She reached her hand out to turn his face to look at her, telling him,
"Nick, I'm--"  She stopped when he turned toward her, pushed her hand
away, then somehow shoved her sideways into the wall he was leaning
against.

"Stop lying to me.  I won't believe your tricks."

A bit stunned, she watched him turn away from her again, trying to ball
himself up in the corner.  Her shoulder hurt a bit from being jarred.
If she were mortal, she would have surely been more severely injured; in
her current state, she'd have a bruise at most.

Now she understood why they were leaving him alone.  He had recognised
her, or recognised seeing her, but assumed it was merely an illusion.
He no longer fully believed what he had been told, but he was so focused
on trying to keep his thoughts straight that he didn't know what was
real any more.

Trying again, Natalie forced him to look at her a bit more roughly.
"Nick, it's--"

She stopped when he tried to push her away, this time with more force,
and her instincts kicked in.  This time she pushed back, twisting his
arm back into the wall.  For a second she thought she saw a glimmer of
recognition, but then he looked away from her again when he couldn't
pull out of her grip.  "Nick--"

"Leave me alone," he quickly told her.  "Leave me alone.  Just leave me
alone," he continued in a whisper.

Natalie could see how very distressed he felt.  She had hoped she would
be able to get him to move, but she first had to convince him she was
real, and not a mere figment of his imagination or a hallucination.
With her free hand, she gently touched the side of his face, brushing
his tousled hair back.  He flinched away as best he could from the
touch.  "I will be right back, all right, Nick?"

He didn't answer her, and she pursed her lips before slowly releasing
his wrist--which he quickly pulled in front of him as he curled up
again--and standing.

She returned to the door and the hall, where she shut the door before
asking Gale, "I want to know exactly what he was last given, and when."

The agent went through her clipboard, then flagged down another agent.
It took a few minutes before someone handed her another file, which she
then held out to Natalie.  "This has the list of medications, along with
the times they were administered."

Natalie took it and scanned the thankfully super-detailed list.  She had
to try and push aside her personal feelings about what they had done to
him and focus on the medical facts.  He was being re-dosed every four
hours.  Checking her watch, it looked like the last round had only been
a little over two hours ago.  He had been medicated only about fifteen,
twenty minutes before the prison had come to a halt.  He had almost two
hours before the next dose would have been given, and she was sure he
had been re-dosed more often than absolutely necessary--the medications
would only be beginning to wear off, not worn off by then.  And the
amounts...  Natalie looked up from the file, forcing herself not to
think about that.  Her eyes settled on the agent again.  "I could use
your help."

"*My* help?"  Cassandra raised an eyebrow and took a step back.  "I'm
not sure what kind of help I can provide.  Short of sedating Detective
Knight and removing him by force, you're probably the only--"

"I know that, but if he sees you with me, I might be able to get him to
move before dawn."

"You think that will help?  That you can then get him to
leave...peacefully?"

"Yeah, I think it will help, and yes, I think I can," she replied,
although the last few words were a bit uncertain.  When it came down to
it, she didn't know if she actually could get him to leave.  She had no
idea how much he was still being affected by the individual drugs he had
been given, never mind the ruthless combination.  She only hoped she
could convince him to trust her enough that he would do what she said.

Agent Gale nodded and again went to the door, which she opened.  "I'll
wait in the doorway."

Natalie entered and returned to kneel next to Nick.  This time he hadn't
glanced her way when she entered or approached.  "Nick--"

"You left.  You're supposed to stay gone for a while."

She hesitated before replying, wondering if that meant this wasn't his
first 'vision' of her.  "I told you I would be right back.  Just a
couple of minutes ago.  Do you remember that?"

His gaze shifted along the wall a little as he tried to recall the event
through his hazy memory.

"I'm real, Nick.  It's really me, and I'm really here.  And we can
leave."

"Leave?" he asked, turning toward his visitor in confusion.

"Yes, Nick, leave."  She glanced behind her, where she could see
Cassandra Gale standing between the partially open door and the doorway,
her hand still on the latch.  Turning back, she leaned closer to the
wall so Nick could see past her.  "See?  Your favourite FBI agent is
here, too.  She brought me here to help get you back home."

She watched his eyes momentarily lock onto something behind her, then he
looked to the wall again.

"Nick, the undercover assignment is over.  They shut everything down."

He turned his attention back to the woman kneeling before him.  "Over?"

"Yes, it's over."

"How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"Oh, Nick..." she whispered, touching his face.  He tried to pull back,
but the wall was in his way.  He was afraid, terrified even.  "It's not
a trick.  You know I wouldn't trick you."

"If it's you.  If any of this is even real."

"I swear to you that this is real, Nick," she said, but he still seemed
guarded and confused.  Looking down for a moment, she tried to think of
a way to get him to trust her a little.  The only way she could think of
was to tell him things only the two of them--and no one else--knew,
things that had never in any way been publicised.  Leaning forward, she
found his hands pushing her back, keeping her from moving any closer.
His action wasn't violent, at least.  "Please, I just want to tell you
some things, private things that no one else here knows about.  That
should prove I'm real, okay?"

He didn't answer, but pulled his hands back.

This time when she tried to lean over to whisper in his ear, he allowed
it, and she told him, "When LaCroix tried to get me to kill the first
time, I broke his fingers to get away."

"More," he muttered.  "Tell me more."

Natalie had to think a bit; she didn't particularly want to say anything
that could truly get them into trouble if it were overheard.  "Ah, the
first time we had sex was the morning after Halloween in the shower,"
she whispered.  "And you should also know that I told Schanke, like you
asked."

"More," he said again.

"You had our rings engraved and didn't tell me."

Nick's eyes locked with Natalie's for the first time.

"I found out what you were when you woke up on my table--"

He pulled back and shook his head.  "They could know--"

"--and you only stayed in Toronto after that because I was helping you
find a cure," she finished.  No one knew about Nick wanting to find a
cure, not even Schanke.

"How do I know this isn't a dream?"

"Because..." she started, only to stop because she realised she couldn't
easily convince him of that.  "I suppose you really can't know for sure
right now, not unless you feed from me, and even then...  But whether
it's a dream or not, you know I would never hurt you, right?  And you
believe I'm not trying to trick you, don't you?"

His gaze drifted from her again.  It was too many words, and he
struggled to follow her reasoning.

"Nick?"

"How long have I been here?"

"Two weeks."

"Just two weeks?  That's all?"

"Two weeks exactly."

"And I can really leave?"

"Yes," she again confirmed.  "And if we don't leave soon, we'll be stuck
here for the day.  Do you think you can stand?"

"I don't know," he muttered, and he felt the hands on his face drop away
and watched Natalie move back from him.

Standing, she leaned over and took his left hand, the one further from
the corner in which he was sitting.  "Come on, I'll help you up."

Nick, however, made no effort to stand.  His eyes were now locked on the
FBI agent and the still partially open door.

"Nick, please, I don't think either of us wants me to drag you out.  Or
carry you."

"According to the records, they tried to trick him once," Gale said
softly from the door.  "They told him he could leave...and then hurt him
again."

Natalie glanced toward the FBI agent for a moment, then turned back to
Nick.  Closing her eyes to focus and blot out the room for a moment, she
heard the commotion in the rest of the facility--the sounds of an
investigation--and she had an idea.  "Nick, just listen for a moment.
Really listen.  What do you hear going on in the hall?"

He obeyed, closing his eyes to devote as much of his attention as he
could muster to the distant sounds.  "Voices.  I hear voices."

"And those voices are talking about...what?" she prompted, hoping it
wouldn't be anything that would upset him.

"Bringing in employees for questioning," he muttered after several more
seconds of concentration.  "The status of the prisoners.  Wondering
about the undercover...  Me."

"See?  It's safe outside this room.  I will not let anyone hurt you,
Nick.  Trust that.  Trust *me*.  Please?"

When he looked up at her, she managed a slight smile.  Then, when he
tried to shift his weight, bracing himself against the wall, she tried
to help him up.  It didn't work so well the first try, and after he
slunk back to the floor, they tried again.  This time she used more of
her extra strength and pushed him back so that he was now standing in
the corner he had been sitting in.

He looked dizzy, almost in shock, even after she had loosened her grip
on his shoulders so that he was standing more or less on his own, albeit
still leaning heavily against the walls.  "Do you think you can walk?"

Without answering, he started toward the door, shuffling unsteadily
around the perimeter of the room with the wall on one side and Natalie
on the other.  He paused after a few steps, then every few after that on
the way.

It wasn't long until Natalie took the door from Agent Gale, who backed
away and out of the room, then she helped him around the doorjamb to the
hall beyond.

She tried to ignore the many eyes on them; that wasn't difficult, as
soon after reaching the hall, Nick collapsed to the floor, sliding down
the wall.  "How about we simply sit here for a few minutes?" she
suggested, starting to kneel down next to him.  Nick, however, started
to his feet again, tugging on her arm, and she again helped him up.
Turning, she looked toward Gale.  "Can you get these people out of the
way?"

"For the most part, but we need to take some photographs of him before
leaving the building."

"Photographs?" she asked, her worry leaking through.

"It'll only take a few seconds, but we need to do it.  It's further
evidence to document his physical condition upon leaving.  After all, he
is a victim in this case."

She wasn't thrilled with the thought, but turned her attention to Nick.
It did need done, but how would he handle it?  He had apparently zoned
off and was staring blankly down at the hall of people, and either felt
indifferent to her comment or hadn't heard the short exchange.  "Nick?
Is that okay?"

He swivelled his head over toward Natalie.  "Is what okay?"

"For them to take pictures of you before we leave.  To document the
blood on your clothes and your physical condition."

"I suppose," he murmured, his eyes listlessly drifting down the hall
again.

The agent nodded.  "In that case, I will be right back.  While I'm gone,
I also want to make sure there is someone available to drive us back to
the city."

Natalie nodded, watching the woman leave, then she turned her attention
back to Nick.  Once more he slid down to the floor, although he kept her
arm gripped possessively in his hand.  She couldn't help but think he
looked like he hadn't slept in days.  She wondered if it was the drugs
that were making him weak, or simply lack of blood and sleep.  Not
comfortable with kneeling there in the hall with others so close, she
stood next to him, letting him continue to hold on to her until the FBI
agent returned.  She had a small duffel bag in one hand, and another
woman was with her, a camera around her neck.

"Detective Knight, this is Georgia McCall.  She's here to take a few
photos, then I'm going to lead you both out, and we'll be on our way."

Nick's gaze focused on the newcomer while the FBI agent spoke.  It took
several seconds before the words sank in, then he again moved to stand,
using Natalie's helping hand more than the stationary wall.  Once
standing, he was asked to face the camera, which was fairly simple.  He
winced when the camera flashed, the light excruciatingly bright, the
stark white walls and his clothes not helping in the least.

Natalie ended up repositioning him for the other photos because of how
dazed the flash had made him.  He kept hold of her hands the entire
time, and nearly lost his balance at one point when he couldn't lean up
against the wall.

After taking half a dozen shots, both with and without his shirt on,
McCall lowered her camera.  "That's it.  You're good to go."

"Just let me know when you want to start out," Agent Gale told the two.

"Now," Nick whispered as Natalie tugged at his shirt, his eyes on the
end of the hall.  He immediately started that way along the wall, but
Natalie held him back.

"I have some things you might--"

"Now," Nick repeated, and he again tried to walk forward.

"Wrong way, Nick," she said and turned him around.  "This way.  If you
need to stop, just tell me."

After he managed a slight nod, they started down the hall.  They had
nearly made it to the exit when he suddenly fell again, sliding down the
wall to his knees.  He forced himself back up, but then they had to
pause at the exit doors.  A good twenty metres lay between the building
and the car, all smooth, dry cement, but it was cold, brutally cold, the
path closest to the building a waist-high trench of white snow.  And
then, beyond, were more people.

Natalie stopped him from continuing stubbornly forward, like he wanted.
Blocking his path, forcing him to lean against the inside wall by the
doors, she pulled off the FBI jacket she had been given before entering.
She hadn't needed it in the first place, but it would at least hide the
majority of the blood on Nick's clothing until they got to the hotel.
She tried to put it on him, but he wasn't co-operating.  "Come on, Nick,
help me out here a little.  It's not that far, and once we're there,
it's only a half-hour ride or so to the hotel."

At her prodding, he let her manipulate him again to don the jacket.  He
leaned heavily on her the entire way between the snowbanks to the
waiting car, then struggled his way into the back.

Once they got in the car and Natalie had pulled the door shut, she saw
the driver--Cassandra Gale's partner.  She felt a bit relieved, knowing
that at least it wasn't some random agent she hadn't previously met.

"There's a lot of snow," Nick commented idly after they had started on a
nearly empty road, his gaze out the car window.

She smiled a little at the simple comment.  "Yeah, there is.  Too much
for my taste."

"Where are we?"

"Ah, Montana.  We're staying in Helena."



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (102/111)

Arriving at the hotel, Agent Reilly had taken them directly to their
room, leaving the key with Natalie and dropping the bag she had packed
for Nick by the door before leaving.

Nick had refused to try to take a shower, drink either Natalie's blood
or some from one of two bottles she had found in the room, or even lie
on the bed or change clothes.  He sat curled up in one of the chairs,
sleeping, Natalie in the other chair, when midway through the day
someone knocked on their door.

Natalie woke and abruptly stood, only to find Nick still had hold of her
hand across the table.  She had woken him, too, and she managed to pry
her fingers from his.  "It's okay.  I'm not leaving," she promised him,
then stood and went to the door, where she checked outside to find Agent
Gale and her partner.  Fumbling with the door lock and the chain, she
opened the door a crack.  She was thankful that despite it being noon,
the area immediately outside the door was shaded.  "What do you want?"

"Is something wrong?" Gale asked, noting her weary appearance and
confused expression.

"No, just...I was sleeping.  So was Nick."

"Can you tell if the drugs are wearing off yet?"

"I have no idea.  Like I said, we were--"  She stopped speaking, feeling
Nick grab her from behind.

"I'll be fine.  Good-bye," he said gruffly and pushed the door shut.

Almost immediately Natalie felt him leaning on her again, his chin on
her shoulder, face against hers.  "Nick--"

"I don't want to talk to anyone right now.  Please tell them to leave."

She turned, only to find him pushing away from her and returning to the
chair.  Torn by whom to be more annoyed at, she reopened the door and
apologised, "Sorry about that."

"May we come in?"

"No, not right now," she told them.  "He doesn't want to see or talk to
anyone, not yet."

"May we come back this afternoon to talk?"

Natalie glanced away from the door to where Nick sat, watching them, but
he neither nodded nor shook his head.  "Ah, I can't stop you from
trying, but I can't guarantee anything, either."  This time it was she
who shut the door on the two agents.  She waited a few moments before
hearing the two walk away, at which she relocked the door and once again
hooked the chain.  Then, slowly turning, she locked her gaze on Nick.
He looked both better and worse than he had that morning.  "You really
should take a shower and change clothes.  Or at least drink something."

"I'm not hungry.  And I'm not sure a shower is a good idea."

"If you're worried about falling and cracking your head open, I could
help you, you know.  Wouldn't be the first time we've taken a shower
together."  She almost caught a smile from him, but it only made it to
his eyes.  "Do you feel any better yet?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, looking toward the heavily curtained
windows.  "The feeling of being in a dream is...  This feels more real."

"Because it *is* real."

"Was earlier--  Did you come there to the prison?"

"Yeah, I was there.  That was real, too."

"I thought I was dreaming.  I still feel a bit...  Everything
seems...off.  And I don't remember how I got here, really, only..."
Pausing, he reached toward the curtains.  He knew from when Natalie
opened the door that sunlight wouldn't stream in, and he pulled the
heavy fabric a few inches to the side to reveal a dazzling white parking
lot.  The sky was clear, which made the snow glint and sparkle.  He let
the curtain close and looked away from the window.  "A lot of snow.  I
guess that wasn't my imagination, either."

"No, it wasn't."

"Did I--did I hurt anyone?  Do you know?"

"From what they said, no, you didn't."

"And you told Schanke about--"

"What we did?  Yes, I told him."

"And how did he take it?  Is he transferring to days?"

She hesitated.  While pleased that he appeared to be thinking far more
clearly, she wasn't sure this was a good topic to discuss, or at least
not right now.  "I don't think Cohen has asked him yet, and I don't know
which way he is leaning.  And he didn't take the news about us well, but
he could have taken it a lot worse."

Nick stared across the room, focusing on nothing in particular while he
considered that.  "Did LaCroix make you try and do anything while I was
gone?"

"No.  No, he didn't."  Remembering something she had wanted to do the
first moment she could, she reached behind her neck to undo the small
chain on which she had been wearing Nick's wedding ring.  Removing the
chain, she slid the ring off.  She slowly approached and handed it out
to him.  "You'll probably have to get used to wearing it all over
again."

He took the ring, turning it over in his fingers for a moment.  "I
thought they had taken it."

"Gale took it off before they brought you here, along with some other
things, like your watch and badge, and your wallet.  Cohen has your
weapon."

He slid the ring on, his gaze drifting over the room.  "You're right, I
should take a shower.  And drink something.  That'll probably help get
rid of this...mental haze I'm stuck in."

"And which would you like to do first?"

"Something to drink might be a good idea," he muttered, his eyes
drifting to two bottles on the dresser.  "Depending upon what it is.  If
it's that synthetic blood, I'm not sure it'll do any good."

She had crossed to the bottles the moment he had seemed interested, and
she picked up the closest one and turned it around in her hands.  No
label, so it likely wasn't the synthetic blood, for which she was
grateful.  Pulling out the cork, planning to smell it, she recorked it
before the tip of the bottle even reached her shoulders.  She set it
down, picked up the other bottle, and did the same.

"Is something wrong?  Is it old or something?"

She shook her head.  "Oh, no, not old.  Fresh.  Really, really fresh.
Do you still want some?"

He hesitated, but nodded.  He would need something before long, he
suspected.  So would Natalie.  "Just a little," he said while she filled
a thin plastic cup with some blood.  He could see through it and tell
that she had only filled it about a fourth of the way.

He eyed it nervously as she brought it nearer.  The scent was
overwhelming.  Either it was, indeed, extremely fresh, or the drugs in
his system were still distorting his senses.  Or both.  He had to admit
it felt like both; this little blood shouldn't smell this potent, even
if fresh...or warm.  Tentatively taking a sip, he closed his eyes at the
taste, which was every bit as strong as the heady scent.  But more than
that, it was...familiar.  Somewhat, anyway, but it was enough to
distract his senses to allow him to finish the few ounces of blood.

"Nick?"  Natalie was puzzled by his odd expression.  "Is something wrong
with it?"

"It's theirs."

"Whose?"

"Gale's and the others'.  They must have asked for volunteers or
something," he whispered, then set the cup down on the table and stood.
It felt easier to stand, which was good.  The room spun a bit, though.
He knew he had slept some, but he certainly didn't feel like he had.
For a moment, he had thought he was back in that room.  Glancing at the
dark blue jacket he had on, he turned his gaze up to Natalie.  "Did they
provide something for me to change into, too?"

"Ah, kinda looks like it," she said, nodding to some folded clothes
further down on the long, low dresser.  "But I also brought some of your
own things with me.  So you have some options."

He still felt a bit off, and he didn't remove the jacket right away.
Once he did, he started toward the bathroom, only to stop in the doorway
when he saw his almost imperceptible reflection.  He was gratified to
see more than he had seen in months of himself in any mirror.  The image
was oddly crisp, despite being barely there, and he looked away seeing
the blood on his clothes and his unshaven face.  He turned the other
way, toward Natalie, when she touched his arm.  "I think I'll be okay on
my own," he assured her.  "While I'm in the shower, why don't you see if
any of this is on the news.  It might be good to know what I'm in for."

Natalie watched him trudge slowly the rest of the way into the bathroom,
taking care with every step, then shut the door behind him.  She hated
how tired he looked.  And she hadn't thought to bring his razor; after
all, in the first few pictures, he had appeared more or less the same as
when he left.  She had packed the bag for him before she had seen the
most recent photographs.  She couldn't help but think his scruffy
appearance made him look even worse.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Nick had his eyes closed, and he barely heard what Agent Gale was trying
to ask him or tell him or...whatever.  His head hurt, and the sensation
was nothing like anything he had felt since becoming a vampire.  He knew
the massive quantity of drugs hadn't completely worn off, but at least
he no longer had the odd feeling of being there but...not.

His shower hadn't gone well, and he had ended up calling for help.  That
made him feel helpless and angry.  There was no razor, so he was stuck
with four or five days' worth of stubble, by his guess.  Natalie assured
him he didn't look that bad, but he wasn't used to it.  Then, after
dressing in the clothes Natalie had brought, it had taken multiple tries
before she persuaded him to drink more of the super-fresh blood.  She
had drunk some as well, but between them they barely emptied half a
bottle.  Too fresh and too...strange.  It wasn't only his opinion;
Natalie commented on how the blood made her feel mixed emotions, as
though some of those who had donated hadn't *really* wanted to, but had
done so to look good to their colleagues or something.

It also meant Agent Gale's blood smelled particularly strong now, even
as they sat with a table between them in another room of the hotel.  He
had slowly become hungrier and hungrier the longer he remained awake,
and it was nearly the following morning.  Soon it would be twenty-four
hours since he had been pulled out of the prison.  He couldn't believe
that much time had passed.

Suddenly he felt a hand touch his arm, even though he could still feel
Natalie's fingers entwined solidly with his own.

"Nick?"

He turned to glance at her, then looked back across the table to Gale
and her partner.  He was being questioned, debriefed about his stay at
the prison--yet another thing that wasn't going very well.  "I'm sorry,
what did you ask?"

"I asked you to continue with what you remembered next," Gale started,
then added, "But perhaps I should instead ask if you need more time
before doing this.  We can do this in Toronto in a couple of days...or
not at all, if you'd prefer."

Nick didn't even remember the last thing he had told the agent, but he
also didn't want to draw this out any longer than necessary.  He just
wanted to go home and sleep, but he also wanted to tell them everything
he could.  When Natalie squeezed his hand lightly, he again snapped out
of his thoughts.  "No.  I want to try and finish this here."

"You can take your time, Detective Knight."

His gaze shifted to Agent Gale at her surprisingly soft words.  Her pale
neck attracted more attention than it should have.  He darted his eyes
to her partner, but that didn't ease his hunger in the least.  He tried
to focus on what he was supposed to say, but when it came down to it, he
didn't remember the question.  He couldn't continue unless he knew that.
Hesitantly he asked, "Where did I stop?"

"Yes, I think we should continue this later," Cassandra Gale said,
turning off the tape recorder and gathering up the files in front of her
and her partner.

Nick started a little, but he didn't protest.  As unfocused as he still
was, it might be good to wait a couple of days.

"Do you think we can still get a flight to Toronto tonight?" Natalie
asked.  Originally that had been the plan, but Nick had insisted he
wanted to be questioned before leaving, if possible.

"I wouldn't see why not," Gale replied rather more cheerily than any of
them looked.  "Reilly?"

"I'll check."  He left, taking the recording equipment with him.

"It's probably a good idea if you two get ready to leave.  With the time
difference, a flight to Toronto will arrive close to dawn."

"That's all right," Nick muttered, although in truth he wasn't so sure.
Natalie wouldn't have any trouble getting home, but he might if he
didn't feel any better by the time they arrived.

He felt a tug on his hand, and turned to realise Natalie had already
stood.  That's right, this wasn't their room.  He carefully stood and
let her lead him out of the room.  Leaving, immediately outside the
room, he was assaulted with the faint sounds of a commotion near another
part of the hotel--reporters.  According to Agent Gale, they had arrived
around noon.  He instinctively scanned for any persistent or disobedient
strays, but even with his strangely heightened senses, he couldn't see
or hear anyone nearby.

The reporters had been informed about what had happened at the vampire
prison, that there had been an investigation into alleged abuse and even
torture, and also that there had been at least one undercover agent who
had helped gather evidence.  The reporters were asking questions again
about this person.  Was he or she an employee?  A prisoner?  One even
asked specifically if it was him--they were already drawing connections.

Even so, the identity of the undercover individual or individuals hadn't
been confirmed, although Nick knew it was probably obvious.  Or would be
once he--a vampire cop arrested for murder--suddenly appeared back in
Toronto, free.  Granted, he wasn't sure they knew yet that he had been
released.  He vaguely remembered one of the agents saying something
about waiting until he had returned to Toronto before giving out that
information.  He didn't particularly look forward to that.  He had no
idea what his co-workers had thought of him since his arrest or how
those thoughts might change once they learned the truth behind that
arrest.

"Nick?"

"I'm sorry.  Just...thinking," he muttered, then headed back toward
their room.  Not that they really had much to retrieve; they only had
the nearly empty bag Natalie had brought for his clothes.  Besides, he
needed more blood if he were to endure the next several hours in an
enclosed space with mortals.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (103/111)

Natalie looked over at Nick once they arrived on the ground in Toronto.
He had been relieved to learn that their plane was a small, essentially
private flight.  The only others on the plane were Agents Gale and
Reilly, and another agent of some sort, who was handling the press.

The flight itself started off quite well, but at about the midway point,
Nick drifted off, only to have a nightmare.  After that, he asked
Natalie to keep him awake; he hadn't exactly woken up silently or
calmly, and he had noticed the others seemed wary and uncomfortable.
They wanted to say something, but thankfully didn't.

Natalie could tell he was hungry by the way he looked at her at times.
They had only finished off the bottle they had started, and he drank no
more of the blood than she had.  The drugs were wearing off further, she
suspected.  It had been a little more than a full day since his last
dose by the time they landed in Toronto.

They had originally planned to wander off somewhere away from people and
then take off for home, but that was before deplaning.  Nick still
didn't feel up to flying by the time they arrived; merely walking was
hard enough.  Agent Gale had offered to drive them home in their rental,
and they had reluctantly agreed.

The downside to that was actually going through the airport, which
inevitably attracted far too much unwanted attention.  Nick was a bit of
a celebrity, and instantly recognisable, people pointing him out every
few seconds.  At first they found it difficult to get through--Nick,
after all, didn't have any ID on him, and while Natalie had his
passport, there was no record of him having left the country, but Agent
Gale and the other woman had managed to set things straight.  The other
agent turned out to be not FBI, but RCMP.  She wasn't there solely to
deal with the reporters, but also to help them all get home.

Natalie suspected that someone in the media had possibly seen them at
the airport in Helena...and if so, they'd surely passed the word to
their colleagues back in Ontario.  Indeed, upon their arrival in
Toronto, a few news reporters were eagerly waiting for them.  Nick had
frozen up at that, and it had been difficult to get him into the rental
car, which Reilly had gotten for them.  She wasn't sure if it was the
camera flashes, the questions, or simply that he really needed to sit
down before he fell again that caused him to look so zoned out.  It
might as well have been the day before, back at the prison.

Mercifully, the ride to the loft had been nearly silent.  After they
arrived and unloaded their meagre belongings, Natalie shooed the agents
back into their car and ordered them to leave.  While Nick didn't say
it, she knew he didn't want to talk.  Riding up in the elevator,
however, she had forgotten something--LaCroix.  She hadn't told him
where she had gone the previous night.  There hadn't been enough time
and she hadn't wanted to call him with Gale right there...and she hadn't
come home that morning, either.  She had been in another country,
another time zone.  Dawn had come in Toronto before Nick had even been
released.

Natalie pushed open the door, Nick leaning heavily on her.  She would
have entered, if LaCroix hadn't been blocking her way.  He looked
furious.  His anger eclipsed his worry, and she felt Nick shrink further
back behind her.  "Let us pass."  Then, after a moment, she forced
herself to add, "Please?"

LaCroix continued to glare at them for a moment, then stepped aside to
let them enter the room.  Once Natalie had passed, he reached out toward
his son, prying him from her, seizing him by the neck.  His son didn't
protest, either verbally or physically, but merely gripped the arm
leading toward him and leaned rather heavily on it.  His eyes darted to
his other child when she tugged on his shoulder, trying to get him to
turn and release her lover.

"Let me take Nick up to the bedroom so he can rest.  He's too weak to
stand here and talk...even if he wanted to."

"Has he fed since his...release?"

"Yes."  Then, reluctantly, she admitted, "A little, anyway.  Please, let
us pass."  This time LaCroix let them go.  He stayed back by the doors
while she continued to the stairs with Nick.

Stairs, they had already discovered, posed issues and took time, so it
took far longer than usual to reach the top landing.  At one point she
thought he would fall, but he seemed determined not to.  They finally
made it not only up the stairs, but into the bedroom before he nearly
stumbled.

"Now, you rest for a bit while I deal with LaCroix," she said once she
had helped him to first sit and then lie back on the bed.  "I will be
right back."

"Stay, please?" he whispered, holding onto her hand when she tried to
turn to leave.  "At least until I fall asleep.  I don't think it will be
long."

She gave him a smile and let him pull her forward, where she sat on the
edge of the bed.  "You know, if you're going to go to bed--"

"I don't feel like changing.  Not right now."

A bit surprised he had guessed what she wanted to ask, she hesitated
before nodding in reply.  He gave her a soft smile back before he closed
his eyes.  Within what was probably seconds, he drifted off, essentially
passing out from exhaustion, his fingers dropping away from hers.
Touching his cheek, she half-hoped he would wake, but he didn't.

She sat there next to him for a few minutes, then gently stood.  She
nearly left then, but instead she carefully removed his shoes.  He
didn't budge at all, and, standing, Natalie turned to find LaCroix in
the doorway.  Then, in a blink, he vanished.  Leaving the room, she
found him downstairs, pulling a bottle calmly out of the refrigerator.
He didn't fool her; she knew he had been watching.  Walking down the
stairs, she crossed to where he stood by the counter, filling two
glasses.

"Is Nicholas sleeping?" he asked without turning.

"You know he is."

"How much was 'a little'?"

"Perhaps half a bottle."

"Of?"

"Very fresh human blood."

"Very fresh...in his opinion, or mine?"

"Yours."

LaCroix glanced over at his daughter, then turned back to pick up one of
the glasses, which he handed to her.  "And what did you have?"

"The other half."  She took the proffered glass, but she didn't drink
from it, her eyes still on him.

"Did he feed from you?"

"No.  He's mostly been sleeping, or trying to, at least.  Or the
opposite."

He turned back to the second glass of blood.  "Why has he not recovered
more than this?  Was he so badly injured--"

"He was physically...well, I can't say he was exactly fine, but all of
his injuries were healed.  The drugs were the real problem, that and...
I get the impression he hasn't been sleeping much, if at all, and he
hadn't had any blood for days.  The rooms were lighted day and night,
and those drugs...  I think he tried to stay awake in an attempt to
better separate what was real and wasn't," she explained, not wanting to
say Nick was probably worse off mentally between the extreme stress of
this situation plus the previous stress of the last nearly six months.
Until the drugs wore off completely and he had adequately fed, she
couldn't make any guess what long term effects this might have.  "He
even forced himself to stay awake on the plane after he had a nightmare.
Right now he needs sleep more than anything."

LaCroix had taken a large sip from his glass through the explanation,
and lowered it when she stopped speaking.  "You failed to inform me you
were going there."

"You knew I wanted to."

"Wanting to and actually doing so are far different things.  Why did you
not inform me?"

"Because that FBI agent was right there, and I didn't want her hearing
our conversation."

"You could have called once you arrived."

Natalie had taken a drink from her own glass just as LaCroix stopped
talking.  He was right that she could have called, but she had been more
concerned about Nick.  That Nick had constantly woken during the day,
keeping her awake, hadn't helped the situation.  She hadn't wanted to
wake him by making a phone call.

"Why didn't you?"

Forcing herself to try to appear more calm and composed than she truly
felt, she took a deeper drink from her glass, then she told him,
"Because I was more concerned about getting Nick out of there than about
calling you.  And it probably wouldn't have been the best idea to call
here from the hotel, either."  Turning, she started for the couch and
sat, her eyes drifting to the television.  It was off.  "Have they said
anything about this on the news here?"

"The news has been vague--so have the authorities.  Last I saw, the
undercover agent hadn't been identified.  Or at least not confirmed."

"What is the tone?  How are they--"

"Surprisingly...in our defence."

Natalie took another drink from her glass, watching LaCroix in her
periphery as he approached.

"Reporters spotted us at the airport," she admitted.  "I'm sure that
will be on the news soon.  Even if they don't announce it, they made a
big deal about Nick being arrested.  And now they've heard that someone
was undercover, and then seeing him...  They'll put it together and know
it had to be Nick."

She closed her eyes for a moment.  She didn't really want to sit there.
Quickly draining her glass, she stood and took it to the sink, where she
rinsed it out and left it in a corner.  Turning, she found him standing
directly in her way.  "I'm heading upstairs.  I doubt he'll stay asleep
long, and I think I should be there when he wakes."

LaCroix didn't move out of her way; he blocked her when she moved to
walk around him.  "Has Nicholas--"

"I'm sorry, LaCroix, I really can't say how he is doing.  He needs rest,
time for the drugs to dissipate, and blood to speed the healing.  Until
then, all we can do is wait."  With that, Natalie took a short cut,
speeding around LaCroix and up to the mezzanine above by air.  Then she
darted quickly into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Hey, Dad, look at the news."

Donald Schanke found himself being dragged toward the TV by his
daughter.  "Jenny, I told you not to watch that.  The news lately has
been--"

"It's Nick and Natalie.  See, I was right!  It *was* all a mistake.
They said he was undercover."

Schanke froze upon seeing what looked vaguely like Nick and Natalie
getting into a car at Pearson International Airport.  It had still been
night when the video was shot, and as it was presently mid-afternoon and
still light out, the footage had to have been shot that morning.

While he wasn't supposed to tell anyone, since Myra had come at him with
a frying pan after seeing on the news that his partner had been arrested
for killing someone, he had hurriedly explained that Nick was
undercover, and that the arrest was a set up of sorts.  They hadn't told
Jenny, however, so he had been constantly hounded by questions--could he
do anything to clear Nick's name and get him out and the like.  There
wouldn't be any more of those, at least.  He was pleased that his little
girl had stubbornly never given up her belief that his partner was
innocent, but it didn't change the current situation.

"I told you--"

"And I told you not to watch the news," he said, quickly shutting the TV
off.  "Myra--"

His wife waved her hand.  "Go on.  But don't bother him too much.  I'm
sure he probably wants to be alone."

"After spending two weeks *alone* in a cell?" he asked.  "I won't drive
him nuts, Myra.  I just need to see that he's okay.  I gotta see him
with my own two eyeballs."

"Dad--"

"No," said both of Jenny's parents before she got her question out.
"Don't worry, I'll be back for dinner," he promised and started for the
door, rushing to leave before his daughter followed him.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Moments later, Schanke pulled his car out onto the road, nearly backing
into oncoming traffic, then sped toward the warehouse district.  He
would have used his siren if traffic hadn't been so light, a lull before
rush hour really hit.

Reaching Nick's building, he hurried out of his car and rushed inside,
where he nervously paced back and forth a couple of times before using
the alarm code.  After all, if his partner was sleeping, he didn't want
to use the buzzer and possibly wake him.

Taking the elevator up, Schanke didn't get the chance to pull the door
open once it arrived.  It was opened for him.  He swayed backward a
little upon seeing an obviously irate LaCroix directly in front of him.
Oops.  He hadn't thought about that.

"Leave," the vampire demanded, then let the door slide shut.

Schanke pushed it back open.  "Knight's here, right?" he asked, keeping
his voice somewhat soft.  "Nick and Natalie got back this morning,
didn't they?"

"Hasn't your news told you that much?"

"That they're back, yeah.  But that's all.  And it's not 'my' news,"
Schanke added, trying to peer around LaCroix and into the loft.  "Can I
please come in?"

"No."

"I just want to see Nick."

"Nicholas is sleeping."

"Okay.  How about Natalie, then?  She could come down and--"

"She is...unavailable."

"What do you mean 'unavailable'?" Schanke asked, his voice inching a bit
louder.  Then, hoping he wasn't about to make a mistake, he started for
the larger opening to his left, planning to push past Nick's so-called
father if the vampire didn't move.

LaCroix turned back, not wanting the mortal too close.  Prepared to stop
the mortal before he could reach the stairs, he was disappointed when
the other man didn't move but a few steps inside.

"Can I...I don't know...just see him?  Just see that he's here?  I'll be
quiet.  Won't say a word.  I only want to be sure he's okay, alive, or
something..."

LaCroix studied the nervous mortal for several seconds.  He suspected
that if he didn't allow him to do as he wished to, the persistent
detective would return until he could see them.  Again, and again.  Such
a nuisance, these mortals.  Especially this one.  "The bedroom.  Be
silent."

Schanke darted for the stairs.  Reaching the top and turning the corner,
he froze.  LaCroix now stood outside the door to the bedroom, calmly
waiting.  Schanke still wasn't used to that, the blurring speed,
practically vanishing one second and reappearing the next.  Slowly
resuming his path, he instinctively tensed under the vampire's hawk-like
gaze.  Peering into the bedroom, he was disappointed that he couldn't
really make out much in the darkened room.  He had to step inside a few
paces, and then he could see why Natalie couldn't come down.  Nick *was*
asleep, and he had her pinned in place.  Both still wore the same
clothes they had on during the news clip.

He came to another abrupt halt when he realised Natalie was awake and
looking at him.  "Nat?  Is he--" he whispered, cutting off when
claw-like fingers dug into his shoulder, making him want to cry out.
Suddenly he was being dragged out of the room again.  He stayed quiet
until the door was pulled shut, even with his shoulder still being
crushed.

"You've seen him.  Now leave," LaCroix commanded in a low whisper.

"Is he--"

"His condition is unknown for now."

"Has he said anything?"

"Very little.  Leave.  I am sure you will be able to speak with him
later."

Schanke abruptly found himself released, although his shoulder didn't
stop aching.  Great.  He'd have another bruise to show Myra.  He
supposed later wouldn't be too bad...  Natalie was supposed to work
tonight, from what he remembered of her schedule.  If she didn't call
in, maybe he could talk to her then.  At least now he knew his partner
was still alive and at least outwardly all right.  Maybe.  Although he
really hadn't gotten a good look at either Nick or Natalie...

LaCroix remained outside the bedroom door, turning slowly to keep facing
the mortal, watching him first back slowly away, turn to go down the
stairs, then head to the elevator.  He didn't break his glare until the
elevator door slid shut and the elevator itself started down.  Finally
he shut his eyes, trying to relax now that the mortal had left.  It only
helped a little, and he pushed the bedroom door back open to once again
check on his children.

"You didn't have to do that," Natalie whispered when LaCroix re-entered
the room.  "He'll probably just come back later now."  She turned her
head more toward the clock--five o'clock.  The sun would be down in
another half hour or so.  "Help me get up without waking him, will you?"

At first LaCroix simply stood where he was, then reluctantly helped as
requested.  His daughter needed to feed--her brother had fed from her
twice that day during bouts of pseudo-wakefulness.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (104/111)

"I feel fine," Nick protested when Natalie dragged him by the arm into
the coroner's building that night.  "I've told you that--"

"A good two dozen times in the last half hour," she quickly replied, but
it didn't matter to her.  Yes, he *seemed* much better.  He didn't feel
like reality was fuzzy any longer, he didn't appear to be spacing off,
and he could now walk around without assistance of any kind.  But he
hadn't smiled once, and he had a habit of saying he felt fine when he
wasn't.

"I really do feel--"

"Much better.  I know, I know."

"--fine."

"You're not okay until I say you are, Nick," she said, pausing outside
the doors to Autopsy and turning to face him.  "And first off, I want a
blood test.  Who knows if what they supposedly gave you is even what
they actually gave you.  So...in," she said, and pushed open the doors
with her free hand, her other still pulling him reluctantly along.

Over the next twenty minutes, Natalie drew his blood and checked his
pulse, respiratory rate, temperature, and blood pressure.  When she
finished, Nick ended up sitting, tired, at her desk while she proceeded
to test his blood.  He looked exhausted as he sat with his arms crossed
over her desk, eyes closed and head lying atop his arms.  Natalie wasn't
surprised by his lack of energy.  His life signs were slightly
off--everything was low, as though he were deader or weaker than usual.
She couldn't get a blood pressure reading, no matter how hard she tried,
not even a clearly non-human one.

He jumped when Natalie's phone rang barely an inch from his head.  He
nearly reached for it, but she darted over and grabbed it.

"Coroner's office, Dr. Knight speaking," she said, which caused another
little start from Nick.  She noticed.  She knew he hadn't had much time
to get used to her using his name.  They had only been married three
weeks before he had gone undercover.

"Natalie?" Cohen asked.

Now she hesitated a little before replying, "Yeah."

"Is Nick with you?"

Her eyes slid to Nick, who nodded, "Yeah, he's here."

"Agents Reilly and Gale wish to find out when they can speak to him.
They still need to debrief him, wrap up any loose ends."

She watched Nick tense, and she turned the phone against her shoulder.
Quietly, she asked him, "You up for that?"

"Never did finish that, did we?" he muttered, but then he nodded.
"Yeah, I want to get this over with."

"I'm pretty sure they'd still be willing to let you get out of it."

"I want to do it, Nat.  Tell them anytime, I guess.  But not at the loft
or the precinct.  Here, maybe?"

Natalie put the phone back to her ear, answering, "Yeah, anytime during
my shift tonight will be all right.  They can talk to him here at the
morgue."

"Good.  They will be over in about fifteen minutes, then.  I'll also
need to talk to him, either sometime tonight or early tomorrow night."

"I'm sure that will be okay, Captain."

"And just so you know, Natalie, he will need to be medically cleared
before returning to full duty."

"Working on that as we speak," she replied, then she said goodbye and
hung up with a wince.  Whatever else Cohen wanted to tell her or Nick
could wait until later, as far as she was concerned.  Glancing at Nick
again, she could see that he had stiffened even more.

"Do you think I'll have to start all over?"

Natalie felt bad about her answer.  "You might as well.  You barely got
started before, to be honest."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

By the time Agents Gale and Reilly finished, it was nearly midnight.
Nick felt tired and hungry from recalling his stint as a prisoner,
which, frankly, hadn't taken long.  He could barely believe only two
weeks had passed, most of which, to him, felt like a strange, unending
fog where, for all but the last, he could barely move or think.
Everything else had been some twisted, intermittent dream.  Gale had him
describe that as well.  It sounded like what he had perceived as
drug-induced dreams had not been dreams at all; most of the events in
them had actually happened.  That somehow made him feel even worse...to
know he hadn't merely been afraid of being burned or staked, but he
actually had been.

He was surprised when Natalie pulled out another travel mug with blood
in it--for him, none for her.  He drank it thankfully and silently.  The
blood helped his newly focused memories and, in some cases, new
recollection of events fade somewhat, or at least helped to blunt how he
had felt, the pain and worry, as well as the memories in general.

"That helping?"

He nodded when Natalie nudged up against his arm where he sat at her
desk.  "Much.  And I'm glad they're gone, hopefully for the last time."

"Oh, I don't know...  I think Cassandra has a bit of a crush--or at the
very least a strong interest--in you," she said.

"And you," he countered.  "Probably because we're different than the
others.  The two of us act more like normal humans, and we're willing to
talk to her on a more equal footing."

"Because we *are* normal, Nick.  How many times have I told you that
over the past several years?"

"I know.  But there *is* a difference, and they know it.  I'll always be
treated differently, especially now."

"And if you were mortal and you had gone to a normal prison for an
undercover assignment..."

"I'd be treated differently then, too."  He paused before admitting, "I
guess I don't like being singled out."

"But you do like recognition for good deeds," she countered with another
nudge to his arm.

"I could do without the recognition, Nat."

"No, you could do without the *attention*," she corrected.

He smiled a little, but it was fleeting.  "I do like feeling as if I've
done something important, something good.  But I'm not sure if this was
really a good--"

"Nick, it was a *very* good thing you did.  An *important* thing.
Something that *needed* to be done."  She turned and leaned back to sit
on her desk and face him.  "And we both know that no one else would have
volunteered."

Nick remained silent for a long moment.  "Do you know what Schanke
thinks about all of this?" he eventually asked.  "And the other
issue--what we did?"

Natalie grimaced before replying, "He didn't speak to me for a week
after I told him about it.  But he warmed up a bit after coming over to
ask me some questions.  And then I mentioned that my car had been keyed
and--"

"The graffiti," he finished.  He had gotten a glimpse of that when they
left the loft that evening.  That made it quite clear what his
co-workers in general thought of him.

"He finally understood that we didn't kill anyone who LaCroix wouldn't
have killed if we hadn't, and he would have been a lot more brutal about
it.  But, as far as the possible shift change goes, I'm not sure whether
he would switch to days or not," she told him.  "He did come by the loft
this afternoon before you got up."

"And?"

"And LaCroix made him leave, of course.  He stayed with me while you
were gone."

"Did anyone...threaten you...because of what they believed I had done?"

Natalie pursed her lips.  She hadn't had a chance to tell him about
anything that had happened while he was gone.  She certainly hadn't yet
told him about being unnecessarily shot while on her own little
undercover assignment.  "I'm okay, Nick," she said, dropping her eyes.

"That's not what I asked."

"Nick, I'm okay, really," she repeated.  "Besides, I think Cohen is
coming...or someone is."  Moving off to his side again, she turned just
in time for the doors to open, and yes, it was Cohen.  Her eyes fell
directly on Nick, and Natalie had a strange urge to step between them.
He had had a hard enough night.  "Captain."

"I can come back tomorrow night, if you would rather go home and get
some well-earned rest," Cohen suggested, entering and approaching
Natalie's desk.

Nick shook his head.

"I want you to take a few days off."

He simply nodded in reply.  He had expected some time off and, frankly,
he didn't particularly want to go into the precinct yet.

"And before you will be allowed to return to full duty, you need to see
a psychologist."

"Natalie's already cleared me."

"Not yet she hasn't, and she is not qualified to assess your mental
health.  I'm sorry, Nick, but if you don't speak to someone before you
return to work, you will be confined to your desk until you do."

Nick had no desire whatsoever to talk to a psychologist.  He hadn't been
thrilled the first time around, but this time--this time there were
specific expectations about what he would talk about.  "Will I still
have a partner when I come back?"

"Yes, you will have a partner."

"Schanke or one of the others?" he asked, locking eyes with Cohen.

"He hasn't been reassigned yet."

"Yet," he repeated.  "But he will be, won't he?  And who will I get for
a partner then?"

"If Schanke goes to days, he will likely be paired with Flanagan.
Vetter would be assigned to you."

Nick's gaze wandered.  He'd rather talk to the psychologist--or simply
quit.

"Nothing has been decided yet, but you are a good detective...and so is
your partner.  Change isn't easy, but--"

"We've only been partners--"

"I am aware you and Schanke haven't been partners for quite as long as
is typical, but--"

"I can work alone.  I did it before; I can do it again.  I'm not sure
I'm ready to--"

"Be a mentor?" Cohen finished for him, and he stopped protesting.  She
shook her head.  "Sorry, Knight, but you will not be allowed to work
alone again.  I think you know that.  And I, personally, think you would
be a good partner for her.  Besides, things may change."

She pulled out a small sheet of paper and set it on the desk next to the
travel mug still held loosely in Nick's hand.  "That has the name and
number of both the department psychologist and a private one.  Please
don't make me have to tell you repeatedly to see one or the other."

He sighed.  "I'll...try," he muttered.  "What night should I be in?"

"Monday, the usual time."

He nodded.  He had four days to do...whatever he wanted.  "Will they
decide what to do before then?"

"Yes, they will make their decision by then," Cohen confirmed, then
turned to leave, only to turn back.  "Natalie?  I also thought you would
like to know that Carver has been dealt with.  Another week's worth of
unpaid leave, then he'll be placed on probation.  If IA needs to speak
to you again, I'll let you know."  She glanced at Nick.  "Do get some
sleep, Detective.  You look like you could use it."

Nick didn't even nod as Cohen left, his thoughts locked on what she had
said.  "IA?" he asked, puzzled, once the door swung shut.  "Carver...
He's--"

"A homicide detective at the 23rd."

He had to wrack his brain to recall what the other detective had been
working on, but then it hit him and he whispered, "The look-a-likes."

"Please don't--"

"I know, you don't like talking--"

"Well, the good news is that case is over," she said, cutting him off.

"What happened?  Why did IA have to speak with you?  And what's the deal
with Carver?" he asked, both wanting to know and figuring now was as
good a time as any, since Cohen had inadvertently brought it up.

Natalie took a deep breath, then explained, "Ah, there was another
victim.  Cohen asked me if Carver had asked if I would be willing to be
bait--he hadn't, but he said he had."

"So she asked instead and you volunteered," he guessed.

"And after a couple of nights, the plan worked.  The suspect--a
woman--shot me, but I managed to grab her to hold her in place so
Schanke, Flanagan, Carver and his partner could arrest her...but before
they moved in, Carver shot me without any reason."

Nick's thoughts simmered, and he pulled off the top of the mug and
quickly drank the rest of the blood in it for something to distract him.
Lowering the now empty mug, he started, "I'll--"

Natalie could see his anger building.  She knew she needed to stop it,
and quickly.  She briefly held up her hands.  "No, Nick.  It's all
right.  Like Cohen said, it has already been taken care of.  IA did
their thing and LaCroix played reluctant surgeon for me."  She paused,
and forced a smile, before asking, "So, he's never pulled any bullets
out of you or Janette before, has he?"

Caught off guard by the question, he hesitated before replying, "Ah, no.
He usually left us to deal with our own wounds."

"Let me guess, unless he was the one shot, right?"

He nearly smiled at that.  "Actually...we generally didn't help him,
either.  We would if he was severely injured, but not always right
away..."

"Ah.  Bit of payback for him watching you suffer, I take it."

"A bit, perhaps," he admitted.

"Well, Carver shot me in the back.  I couldn't get to the bullet on my
own, and I didn't think Schanke would be able to get it out without
plenty of whining, wincing, and suggestions of other people who would do
it better.  Sounds like I'm lucky LaCroix helped."

She paused, seeing his anger rise again, probably from learning she had
been shot from behind.  "Schanke, LaCroix, and I were already in line to
deal with Carver, but that's all settled now, so don't worry about it,
Nick."

He closed his eyes, bowing his head a little to push away his troubled
thoughts.  He had other things he needed to do...other things to worry
about.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (105/111)

As Monday night approached, Nick felt more and more nervous about going
in to work.  It was now Sunday, and he only had one day left until he
was supposed to return to work.  Not that he would actually get to do
much work; he hadn't seen either the department psychologist or the
private one, nor made any attempt to schedule a meeting.  He didn't see
any point.  Cohen and her superiors already knew what had happened to
him, probably in far more detail than he did.  And he neither wanted to
talk about what happened, nor how he felt about other matters.  It'd be
like his original psych exam, but ten times worse.  He dreaded it almost
more than learning whether or not Schanke would be switching to days.

"Nick?"

"Go on, Nat.  Go in to work.  I'll be okay here."

She sat next to Nick on the sofa, facing him.  "I am not leaving you
here alone, and you know it."

"I doubt I'll be alone...or if so, not for long."

"Then let me rephrase that.  I'm not leaving you here so you end up
stuck with LaCroix.  Who knows what he'll try getting you to do..."

His thought of staying there at the loft was suddenly less tempting.
She was right.  What would LaCroix try?  At the very least, he'd
probably tempt him with fresh blood...and he had no desire for any more
fresh blood, certainly not after the past few days, between the blood in
Montana and then feeding from Natalie and even LaCroix.  His sire had
already resumed plying him with fresh blood since his return with the
excuse that he needed it.  While he probably had...it could only get
worse.

"Nick--"

"Yeah, I guess I should go with you.  I just don't want to be... I've
had enough of being watched, and everyone who drops by to see you
suddenly becomes more interested in me than what they're supposed to be
there for."

"You do know that tomorrow night--"

"I don't know if I'm going in to work tomorrow."

"Why not?  Is it because you're worried about the others, or--"

"It's...a lot of things."

"You're worried about Schanke being reassigned," she guessed.

"I haven't even talked to him since I got back.  And I haven't called
yet about arranging a session with the psychologist," he admitted.
"I'll be stuck at my desk until I'm cleared--mentally--and I'm not
sure--I just don't know if I'm ready."

"You'll be fine.  I know you will."

"You know I've been having nightmares again, Nat."

"And that's to be expected.  No one can blame you for that."

"The psychologist might."

"Any psychologist would expect it."

"But what about the rest?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just...everything.  Everything that happened while I was gone and
whatever will happen now that I'm back.  The department psychologist
would know all about that.  They'll know what happened to you, to me,
what might happen with Schanke..."

"You don't have to see--"

"Yes, Nat, I do.  I don't think I could manage going to a private one.
It'd be too risky and too--  I wouldn't be able to talk to them.  They'd
keep me from working for sure, even though..."

"Even though...what?"

"I honestly don't know if I even want to go back to work.  I wish I
knew..."

"You don't have to decide right now, and you can't make your decision
yet--you don't have enough information."  She paused and smiled, but he
didn't even look at her, let alone return the smile.  "Do you want me to
call to schedule that for you?"

"I...  No.  I'll do it."

"And you'll come in with me tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll do that at least."  Nick glanced at his watch.  Natalie's
shift started in ten minutes and he abruptly stood.  They'd have to fly
to get there in time.  "Which means we need to leave now."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Late that night, long after midnight, Natalie tensed upon hearing
Schanke walk in.  To be honest, she had expected him earlier; Nick had
come with her the previous night and they knew the precinct had gotten
wind that he was there.

"Hey, Nat..."

"Where's your partner?"

"You mean Flanagan?  If so, he's back at the precinct.  He wanted to
ride shotgun, but I put the kibosh on that.  And Nick...he's here, isn't
he?  As far as I know, he gets his job back.  I mean, why wouldn't he?
After all, I haven't heard anything official about us being split up.
Or did he go home already?"

She finally turned and found Schanke scanning the room.

"No, he didn't go home.  He's sleeping in the locker room."

"Sleeping?  But it's two in the morning.  Hasn't he gotten enough sleep
lately?"

"Ah, not necessarily."

Schanke sobered at her response.  "Oh.  He's not doing okay with what
happened, is he?"

"He's still processing it, I think.  And worrying."

"Worrying?  About what?"

"Returning to work, for one.  And...other things."

"Like me possibly switching to days.  I get it."

"And more," she added, hoping he'd get the point.  "He's worried about
your reaction to what I told you...about what we did, killing those
people."

"But you told him--"

"I told him that I told you, but that was it."

The mortal was quiet for a long moment and sighed before asking, "Do you
think he'd be up to talking?"

"I don't know.  Maybe.  You can check, but--"

"I know, I know, if he tells me to leave, I will."

"Or if he doesn't respond to you or wake up.  And be careful if he is
asleep."

"So...locker room?" he asked, starting to head out but stopping with his
hand on the door.

"Yeah, it's on the left, past the break room.  Don't mind the sign."

Schanke's forehead scrunched a bit at that, but he left in search of his
partner.  He realised what Natalie was talking about the moment he
reached the locker room.  A piece of paper had been taped to the door
with 'Do not disturb the sleeping vampire' written on it with a thick,
black marker.  He paused at that, wondering how many people had turned
around after seeing the sign and not bothered to put their stuff away,
but then headed inside.  No lights were on.  Schanke only hesitated for
a moment before flipping on the light.

Off to one side, away from the lockers, he found Nick on a cot, lying on
his side with his back to the wall, hands held up crossing his heart.
He looked...distressed, as though he were having a nightmare or close to
it.  He almost left, but tip-toed closer.  "Nick?" he whispered, pausing
in his approach for a few seconds.  "Wakey-wakey, Nicky," he said,
moving ever closer.  Then, rather than try to shake his partner awake,
he purposely bumped the side of the cot.  "Nick?"

Nick started awake at being disturbed and instinctively hissed at the
mortal hovering over him.

Schanke backed away at the abrupt change in the other man.  "Hey, Nick,
it's okay.  It's just me," he said once he was out of reach and he
realised his partner wasn't leaving the cot.  "Schanke," he added, hands
raised.  "Your partner."

Nick calmed a little when he saw that it was only Schanke, but he didn't
change back.  At first he thought he was back in that cell and it had
been a nurse or worse coming up to him...  But only his fear vanished at
seeing his partner; he still felt wary and nervous.  He dreaded this
almost as much as going in to the precinct tomorrow.

"Nick?"

"What do you want?"

"I want to see how you're doing--why else would I be here?"

"How would I know?  I was asleep."  Still groggy, Nick closed his eyes,
scrunching his forehead while he took a break from the suddenly bright
room and tried to regain control.  Once again opening his eyes, he saw
his partner visibly relax, probably at his now more human appearance.
"Skank...what do you want?"

"Ah, actually, I'm here because I got some questions for you.  That is,
if, er, you're up to talking?

"Depends on what you want to talk about."

"W-what Natalie told me you two had done," he answered, deliberately not
specifying the topic, even though his partner had to know that was what
he wanted to talk about.  Despite that, he watched Nick pull back ever
so slightly, as though he hadn't expected the request.  "We can talk
about it later...or somewhere else.  Whatever.  Makes no never-mind to
me, so..."

Nick shook his head and pushed himself up into a sitting position.  "No,
it's all right.  If you want--or need to talk about it--we can now."

"Well, then...first, I want to know how you're doing."

"I'm fine, Skank."

Schanke rolled his eyes.  "Cut that out, Knight.  Don't give me that
crap.  How are you *really* doing?"

"I don't know."

"Good."  Schanke nodded his head in approval.

"Good?"

"Yes, good.  It means you're not either--I don't know--broken somehow or
covering up how you really feel."

"I don't know how I feel, Schanke, and it's not just--"  He shook his
head again.

"Natalie tell you what happened to her?"

"Yeah.  And said I have to get in line behind IA, her, you, and LaCroix
if I want to get my hands on Carver."

"Carver definitely stepped in it big-time on that one.  So far IA has
been taking care of it *real* good.  Almost lost his job because of
this.  He still might.  From what I heard, he's still suspended."
Schanke fidgeted a little now that he had run out of subjects to delay
the inevitable.  "So, er, is what Natalie told me the truth?"

"Yes."

"You don't even know what she--"

"I killed someone.  Recently.  Very recently."

"Both of you.  That's what she said."

Nick hesitated, but confirmed, "Yes."

"Did they know?" he asked, even though Natalie had already answered him.
He wanted his partner's side of this.  "Nick?"

"They knew they'd be killed by a vampire.  They *wanted* it."  He almost
smiled, smirked, and even laughed, at which he turned his gaze away.
"They wanted it enough that they didn't put up any resistance at all."

"But you didn't want to do it."

"Neither of us wanted to.  But we both knew that they would have died
anyway, and while I don't agree with LaCroix' methods...I knew it was
better for Natalie to kill someone who wanted to die, than for her to
eventually snap and unintentionally kill someone in anger or hunger."

"And if you had refused?"

"LaCroix had his hand on Nat's neck.  It was partly to keep her from
interfering, but I knew that if I refused, he would break her neck.  If
he had--and he would have--when she revived, she'd need blood and would
be out of control.  She would have killed blindly and brutally to get
the blood she needed.  LaCroix would have been fine with that, of
course."  He paused, then continued, trying to better explain, "If I
tried to interfere or if I had refused, he would have made her kill both
of them.  And she would have.  She knew--she knew I don't like killing,
that I didn't want to.  There was no way out.  Those women were going to
die, regardless of what we did.  It was only a question of how brutal
their deaths would be, and I didn't want Natalie to have to kill more
than once that night.  Nor did I want her to kill blindly."

"I kinda figured it was something like that...  He's too much old-school
to let her skip that particular lesson."  He closed his eyes and shook
his head in dismay and disapproval.  "Hell of a lesson, though, Nick.
Hell of a lesson.  Nat didn't tell me all of what you just said, not
quite, but even then I had about bet he had both of you boxed in so you
didn't have a choice.  Glad I never had him as a teacher.  Or worse."

"He knows how to get people to do what he wants.  How to get *me* to do
what he wants."

Schanke gave a long sigh before continuing, "You really don't like
killing, do you?  You didn't even kill that woman for your undercover
assignment, even though they probably said you could, didn't they?  I
heard she was terminally ill, that she wasn't killed by a vampire...that
everything was faked."

Nick shut his eyes, cringing as he thought about it.

Schanke had his answer from the other man's reaction and he continued to
prod, "And Natalie said something about, er, doing more for his
so-called 'lessons'.  What's that about?"

"LaCroix was having her taste different...emotions, so to speak.  She
hasn't permanently harmed anyone, though."

"And, let me guess, someone else would have if she hadn't?"

"Probably; certainly for the one."

"And why'd you even...  You know, I could--"

"You could turn us in, I know.  And if you want to, do it, but--"

"What, turn you in so they can torture you *again*?" Schanke asked,
utterly appalled.

"I deserve it, Schanke."

The mortal shook his head emphatically.  "No one deserves what they did
to you.  I just don't really get why you told me all of this, especially
after--"

"If they reassign you, I didn't want you to find out after...whether
they reassign you to days or if they give you the choice.  I wanted you
to know--I wanted you to know the truth--before you made your decision.
I wanted you to have time to take what I had done into consideration."

"Cohen hasn't said anything official yet, but rumour is--"

"You're going to days with Flanagan, and Vetter's being assigned to me,"
Nick answered.

"Yeah."

"You've wanted to get back on days for a long time.  And I'd understand
if you wanted a different partner, considering what I did, what I told
you."

Schanke shook his head.  "Myra already said that having a superhuman
partner who can save my bacon trumps days, so she isn't really pushing
me to switch to days.  I mean, if I get the choice...  So I guess it all
comes down to...what you did.  And whether I can deal with it."

"You don't have to spare my feelings, Skank."

"It's not about..."  He trailed off, then shook his head.  "If I end up
on days--and it sounds like I might, whether I want it or not...I mean,
they can't exactly stick you with days--what are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

"Thinking about quitting, aren't you?"

"It's a thought."

"Don't do it, Nick.  Don't quit because of whatever they do."

"I'll quit if I want to quit.  I don't really *have* to work, you know."

"I know, but...just don't, all right?  You don't have to and you
probably shouldn't for other reasons.  I mean...I might not like being
reassigned, but if I am...hey, it happens.  Good or bad, it's all part
of the job.  But you...you usually either leave before something like
this happens or you leave because of it, don't you?"

"Most of the time, yeah.  It's a lot cleaner that way."

"Cleaner," Schanke repeated, not really sure what that meant.  And he
didn't think it really applied now, anyway.  Things were different, and
he continued, "Well, you don't have to this time.  You don't have to
worry about hiding the fact that you're not ageing or..."

"Schanke, it's not about--"

"Maybe it is.  How much does this have to do with Cohen putting you in
charge that week?"

"Nothing."

"That's a lie and we both know it.  That's when--"

"All that proved is that some people simply can't work with me because
of what I am.  And what happened to Natalie while I was gone--what they
said..."

"What were they supposed to think?  And while, yeah, people acted out of
line, vandalised your place--  You gotta keep in mind that whatever
people thought, they *still* didn't give out your address to the media
and God knows they could have.  I'm not sure you realise just how
miraculous that is.  You're famous, sure, but you still have tons more
privacy than most celebrities.  People don't ever follow you around, try
to follow you home--"

"Because they're afraid of me."

"Because--all right, maybe a little, but if you think about it, they
could turn the tables on you, if they wanted to, and make you afraid of
them.  You are outnumbered, you know.  Worse, they could get you
killed...and not just you."

"I know, Skank, I know."

"You even planning to come in tonight?"

"I...I don't know.  They're making me talk to a psychologist before I do
anything but desk work."

"And, let me guess, you haven't seen one."

Nick shook his head.  "If I go in, I'd be stuck at my desk and...I don't
know if I want that."

"They're worried about you, you know, and it's more than just me, Cohen,
and Natalie."

"And how many wished I actually was guilty, wished I had died there in
that cell?"

"Now that they know it was all a set-up to send you in
undercover...probably no one.  So don't worry about it.  No one is gonna
get on your case when or if you come in tonight.  Anyone who tries will
have to go through me first."

"Schanke..."

"Be there tonight or else I'll come get you...and go ahead and set up a
meet with the shrink.  Cohen will do it for you if you don't, you know.
You don't have to tell them about what happened, none of it, if you
don't want.  They only want to make sure you're all right, thinking
clearly, that kind of thing.  You'll be fine."

"I don't know if I want--"

"But I know you *do* want to come back; you wouldn't have stayed as long
as you have if you didn't want to stay here.  I know you, Knight, enough
to know it'd be a mistake if you just up and quit.  And I'm not..."
Schanke shifted, looking away for a moment.  "I'm still kind of
processing what you and Natalie told me, but...I do understand it, kind
of, and I don't have a problem working with you...or her.  And you don't
have to worry about me telling anyone, either.  I haven't and I don't
plan to, as long as--"

"As long as we don't kill anyone else."

"As long as...something like that.  And if you do...I don't want to hear
about it, all right?  I really do not want to know.  If I ever ask...lie
if you have to."  Schanke turned to go, but stopped when he reached the
door.  "And try to get some sleep, will ya?  You look like crap."

"I'll try," Nick replied and in a moment, his partner pulled the door
open, left, and softly shut the door.  Schanke hadn't turned the lights
back out, but now he didn't feel like sleeping or even resting.  The
talk hadn't helped much, although at least it sounded like his partner
was coping fairly well with what he and Natalie had done.  He, however,
worried about his own reactions, and didn't know if he'd be able to get
much sleep that day.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (106/111)

That afternoon Nick woke with a start, feeling himself pinned down--and
he was, by both Natalie and LaCroix, who were both awake and looking
worried.  Another nightmare, the third that day.  "I'm all right," he
protested and pushed first at Natalie, in front of him, then shoved back
against LaCroix.  No longer pinned in place, he shifted position and
crawled down to the end of the bed.

"Nick...lie back down."

"No, I think it's time to just get up; I'm not going to get any more
sleep today," he said and stood.  "I can't deal with another nightmare,"
he muttered and walked out of the bedroom.

He flew straight down to the fridge and pulled it open, taking out a
bottle at random.  He didn't drink from it right there, but he did once
he shut the door and walked over to the counter.  As expected, the blood
didn't help much.

"Nick..." Natalie started, coming up behind him while he drank from the
bottle, but then he pulled away from her.  "Are you sure?  It's barely
four--"

"I'm sure.  And I'll be fine.  I'll have to be.  I might even go in a
little early."

"If you do, you might want to tell Schanke.  He'll want to be there."

"It's only a thought," he said and took another drink and cringed.  "I
don't know if I'll even work all night.  If I'm stuck at my desk, there
wouldn't be much point and...and I just don't know if I can sit there in
the precinct all night...even half the night..."

She forced him to turn around, taking him by the arms.  "Nick...don't
worry.  I'll go in with you and Schanke will be there with you.  I'm
sure he'll be at the precinct all night, too."

"He might not.  They might send him out with Flanagan or Vetter, or both
of them.  They might send you out, too.  And, even worse, Cohen could
have the shrink there waiting for me."

"But that would be good, wouldn't it?  One less thing to worry about.
Give you a chance to get it over with...no effort involved."

"I don't know.  After this...then what?  I simply go back to work?
Business as usual?"

"Yes, Nick, that is exactly what you do.  You get cleared to work, and
then you go back."

"If Schanke's reassigned--"

"Then you'll survive.  It might not be easy, but you will be okay...and
not only for the few hours before you go in to work.  And..."  She took
in a deep breath before continuing, "And I think what Schanke said last
night was right.  It would be a mistake if you don't go back.  Not just
because of what you are, but...working is good for you.  You like your
job and, more than that, you're good at it."

"That's just it, Nat.  I don't know if I am any more.  I'm just...
Everyone judges me more on what I am, not *who* I am or what I do."

"Maybe they do.  Others might be a little wary of you, but I think deep
down they accept and even respect who you are--even more so now.  And
what you just did might change how people interact with you, how they
judge you and your actions.  Give everyone a chance before you make a
choice you'll regret."  She paused again.  "And don't forget that if
Cohen hasn't already called the psychologist for you..."

"Then I need to.  Yeah, I know."

"And it will be fine.  Try to relax, at least, okay?  And if you're
going in, you'll need more than just breakfast."

"Yes, Nicholas, you will need more than that," LaCroix said, slowly
walking down the stairs and nodding at the bottle in the other man's
hand.

"I think Natalie is suggesting I take a shower and change clothes,
not...drink something more..."

"Filling..."

"I don't need something filling.  And before you make any suggestions, I
don't need or want your advice."

"I agree with Natalie; you should return to work...if only to prove to
the mortals that you're not afraid of them."

"I'm not afraid of them, LaCroix."

He chuckled.  "Ah, but you *are* afraid of them, Nicholas.  You fear
what they think, what they might say and do...and with good reason."

"Nick will be fine," she said, turning to face LaCroix.  "And the only
things he has to worry even a little about are whether his psych
examination has been scheduled for him, and if and when his partner is
reassigned...or not.  And both of those aren't so much something to
worry over as they are something to wait and see about."

"And are you sure you don't want something fresher than that?" LaCroix
said and nodded again at the bottle.

"I'm sure," Nick answered.  "I don't think any amount or type of blood
is going to help me right now."  He turned and set the nearly full
bottle on the counter.  He held it for a moment, then let go and turned
back, flying upstairs in a flash.  "Stay down there, LaCroix.  I'm going
to get ready for work."

Natalie waited until Nick had started the water for a shower before she
turned away from LaCroix and pulled two glasses out of a cupboard.
"You're not making things any better for him.  You know that, right?"
she said and filled the two.  "He doesn't need blood and he doesn't need
to be taunted or...frightened.  No one is going to hurt him."

"Like no one hurt you?" he reminded, picking up one of the glasses and
taking a sip, all the while looking at his daughter...the one he had dug
a bullet out of.

"That was different."

"Yet the graffiti remains..."

"But it doesn't identify Nick as living here and, frankly, there is a
lot of vampire-related graffiti in Toronto, especially in this area.
Nick has nothing to be afraid of when it comes to work or what his
co-workers might do.  They've already had months to really make his life
miserable if they wanted to, yet they haven't.  And what comments he has
gotten are mostly because of his relationship to you."

"And what I did...even though it was self-defence."

"It's not only what you did.  Anyone who listens to that show of yours
or has been in the Raven gets a very...narrow slice of you, and it's not
exactly the best view."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Of a sort," she admitted, then paused, taking in a deep breath.  "I
know you don't mean to hurt him, but right now I think there are some
things that are okay to push and some things that aren't.  He needs to
go back to work, but he doesn't need blood pushed on him."

"According to you.  I'm not sure work is the best place for him after
this latest...episode of notoriety."

"It's better that he goes back as soon as he can...before the nightmares
get worse."

"Today--"

"I know, they were worse, probably because of last night."

"Last night?  Explain."

"Nick was sleeping at the morgue and Schanke woke him up.  From what
Schanke said, I think Nick was confused and thought he was back in that
prison for a moment.  He needs to get back into a regular routine...even
if by going back to work he decides to quit.  He needs to get used to
being around others again."

"What happens if he...fails this psychological examination?"

"Then if he wants to work, he has to keep talking until he passes.  It's
not like the last time."

"Could that happen?  Could he fail?"

Natalie hesitated and looked away.  She didn't want to admit it, but
nodded.  And while he knew what would be coming, she half-hoped he could
hear as she answered, "Possibly.  It all comes down to how he reacts and
what--if anything--he says.  If he doesn't talk--or snaps at the
examiner--he'll fail."

"So if he continues insisting he is 'fine'..."

"It doesn't take a psychologist to read through that.  Even Schanke
knows that phrase means the opposite.  They'll know he's lying if he
keeps repeating that he's fine.  And you don't need to worry; I'll be
going in with him tonight, and Schanke will be there all night, too,
even if I have to beg Cohen to keep him there, although I'm not sure
I'll have to.  It'll be all right."  She forced a smile but didn't get
one in return, then walked away from the kitchen counter with her glass.
She'd wait for Nick on the couch, then she would also have to dress for
work.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Nick hung back once he and Natalie arrived at the precinct and they
started slowly toward the doors.  No one had seen them yet, but he
couldn't help but feel as though he was being watched.

"Nick..."

"Maybe I should just go home."

"If you're going to go home, you need to tell Cohen.  We're already
here, so you might as well go in and tell her in person," she said and
kept pulling him along, his hand in hers.  Step by step, the resistance
she felt increased until his fingers slipped from hers.  She turned and
found him frozen in place--still there, at least.  "Nothing is going to
happen.  Don't think about what LaCroix said."

"It's not just that.  What if--"

"Cohen probably doesn't even know you haven't seen a psychologist yet.
Well, okay, she probably knows because she doesn't have the paperwork,
but, I mean...don't worry about being ambushed by that.  It'll be all
right.  You'll probably sit and do paperwork or type up some old cases
or...something boring and mind-numbingly tedious.  You'll be too busy
listening to Schanke complain to notice much else.  Now..."  She took
his hand again, felt less resistance, and resumed pulling him forward.
"Let's go in and get the worst over with.  Then I can stay for an hour
or so if you want before I go in to work."

He pulled back again, but let her keep hold of his hand.  "Nat..."

"I'll only go in with you if you want; I don't have to, but I will if
you want me to, all right?"

He kind of shook his head, then closed his eyes and nodded.  That would
be all right, he supposed...

"Nick?"

"All right.  Might as well get this over with," he muttered and started
forward again, this time walking side by side with Natalie, rather than
lagging behind as they continued inside.

Immediately he noticed many sets of eyes on them, but he didn't hear
many whispers and most everyone simply looked away or down at their
desks.  Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.  Despite their having arrived a
few minutes early, Schanke already sat at his desk--early for him, Nick
knew.  He carefully sat in his chair, all the while feeling a comforting
touch on his arm.

"Do you want me to stay?" she whispered, leaning over his shoulder.

He closed his eyes at her close proximity, thought for a moment, then he
shook his head.  "No, I think I'll be all right.  I'll call if things
change."

"And when you go to lunch, I can come over here or you can come over to
the morgue.  It's up to you.  Either way, give me a call first."

"I know."  He turned and managed a smile, then tensed a little when
Natalie kissed him on the corner of his mouth.  Beyond sitting near one
another or sleeping next to one another, they hadn't been very close
since his release from the prison, not really.  By the time he snapped
out of his thoughts, Natalie's touch had vanished.

"What'd she say?"

Nick snapped his attention to his partner, then glanced toward Natalie's
retreating form.  "To call before we take lunch," he said.

"Are you going to stay that long?  I mean, it's good to see you, but..."

"I haven't seen the shrink yet.  And I don't know how long I'll stay."
He glanced around the room at his co-workers...who all appeared to have
gone back to their work.  He had expected someone or multiple someones
to come up to him, either to ask how he was, apologise, or even simply
approach, sneer, and walk off again.  Instead they were ignoring him,
which only made him feel more jumpy and unsettled.  Worse still, they
weren't talking.  He didn't hear a single whisper about him.

"Knight?"

Hearing Cohen's voice behind him, he swivelled in his chair to find her
standing right next to him.

"My office, now."

He stiffened, despite the gentleness of her words.  She wouldn't be
pleased when she found out he hadn't talked to anyone yet...assuming she
even knew he hadn't.  "I'll be back, Skank, even if it's on my way
home."

"She won't send you home, Knight.  At worst you'll be stuck here all
night or back in the file room or something."

Nick tried and failed to smile at the assurance, then stood and headed
to Cohen's office.  He pulled the door shut without being asked, not
wanting anyone to overhear her annoyance.

"While I'm glad to see you here tonight--"

"I haven't seen the psychologist."

"Exactly.  Have you at least scheduled an appointment?"

"Not...yet."

"You do want to return to work, correct?"

"Yes...I think so."

"Yes or I think so--which is it?"

He winced and again answered, this time merely saying, "Yes."

"Have you thought at all about who you prefer to see?  The department
psychologist or a private one?"

"The department psychologist," he quickly answered.  "I figured I'd call
once I got here tonight."

"But you haven't yet."

"No.  But I've only been here a few minutes."

"I can call to arrange it for you, if you'd like?"

He glanced down, not sure how he felt about the offer.

"It doesn't have to be tonight.  It could be--"

"Arrange it for...whenever."

"Whenever," she repeated, pursing her lips.  "Now, later this morning,
or tomorrow?"

Nick felt panicked at the options, especially the first.  He didn't feel
ready, but would he really feel ready even the following night?  "I
think I'd prefer one of the latter, but whenever is convenient."

"The choice is up to you, Nick."

"I don't have any preference," he repeated.

"You should know that, regardless of what anyone tells you, what you did
was a good thing.  Moreover, it's made a difference."

"It's only been--"

"A few days, yes, but there has been a drastic change in that short
time.  You were the last vampire arrested in such a...violent manner.
All those accused in the future will, at minimum, have the option to
co-operate on their own before excess force is used.  Vampires will also
have the same legal rights of any other individual arrested for a crime.
So will those already accused.  They'll have the right to a proper
investigation and not being summarily convicted from what in many cases
would be considered circumstantial evidence.  You, included.  The
knowledge that you were arrested without even touching your apparent
victim helped emphasise the possibility that there may be other innocent
victims of what is now a retired...judicial system for your kind."

"Captain..."

"Due to your efforts, enough evidence was gathered to demonstrate
precisely how deplorably they were treating your kind.  Those doing the
mistreatment will be investigated and will possibly even serve time for
their actions."

"But what they did wasn't--technically--illegal."

"Only because vampires haven't explicitly been given the same rights as
other humans.  I suspect that will change in the near future, and that
will also be a direct result of your actions.  What you did was no small
act.  If you want or need more time before returning to work--"

"I don't need more time.  I'm here tonight to work.  I know I'll be
confined to the precinct, and I'm all right with that."

"Are you, really?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Then ask your partner what he needs help with."

"You're not going to have me type up some old reports or something?"

"No, Detective, I'm not...or not yet.  Maybe after you run out of your
partner's work to do...if you do.  I'll arrange your psych evaluation
and let you know when it's scheduled the moment I know."

He kept sitting, processing that.  What was Schanke working on?  Would
he really even be able to help?  And if he could, would he run out of
work while worrying when he'd be evaluated...and by whom?

"You may return to your desk, Knight.  If you have any trouble, let me
know."

He snapped out of his thoughts a little at that, his worry popping back
up in full force.  He knew she meant trouble from his co-workers, not
from what had happened, and it made him wonder if Cohen had reason to
believe something else would happen.

"Nick?"

"I'll let you know, but I think I'll be all right," he answered and
finally turned toward the door and pulled it open.  In a matter of
seconds he had reached his desk and sank into his chair.

"So...staying?"

"Yeah.  I'm supposed to see what you need help with and, I guess, help
out."

"You guess?"

"It's what I'm supposed to do...if you have anything to give me."

"Oh, sure.  I've got plenty."  Schanke glanced over his desk and pulled
several files, passing them across the desk.  "Our latest case--well,
mine, sorta--Cohen's been having me, Vetter, and Flanagan all team up.
Anyway, we don't have a solid suspect.  Those are a couple of possibles,
plus the autopsy report.  We need as much information as possible on the
suspects--phone records and bank statements are going to be faxed, or
might be sitting in my inbox...haven't gone through it yet, so I guess
you can do that once you're up to speed."

Nick took the files then opened one of his desk drawers, only to
find...nothing.  His desk had nothing in or on it.  It had been cleaned
out when he left and apparently no one had taken it over.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing.  I take it neither Vetter nor Flanagan has been working here?"

"Nah.  When Briggs transferred out, Vetter took over his desk...at least
for now.  Still nothing on who gets who permanently.  I don't suppose
Cohen said anything?"

"No."

"She call the shrink?"

"Not before I got here.  She probably is now."

"Oh."

"It's okay, Skank."

"So when--"

"Probably sometime later tonight or tomorrow night.  Don't worry about
it.  Although...could I get some paper and--"

"Yeah, sure."

Nick waited while his partner rummaged through his desk, then passed
some paper and a pen and pencil over to him, almost too
enthusiastically.  "Thanks."

"No problem.  But don't work too fast, okay?  You can be way too fast
with this stuff."

"Only if I'm lucky."

"Yeah, well, you *are* lucky...for a lot of different reasons."

"Right now the only thing I'm lucky about is not being fired and that no
one has attacked me."

"You're not gonna be fired and no one here is gonna hurt you.  Do you
really think--"

"Just...do your work and I'll try to help, all right?" he almost
snapped, not wanting to talk about how uncomfortable and vulnerable he
felt sitting there in the middle of the precinct.  It didn't help that a
few people had turned toward him at his reply and, not getting an
answer, he started in on his work.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (107/111)

"Are you sure you're up to doing this tonight?  Your captain said it's
all right if you want to wait until tomorrow night, and we can always
reschedule."

"Now is fine," Nick said from a chair, his eyes more on the table
between him and the psychologist than the psychologist herself.  He felt
a little uncertain about doing this, but he both wanted to get it over
with and wanted some time away from the others in the precinct.  More
people had furtively glanced at him, although no one had yet come up to
him for any reason.  Nor were they talking about him, not even in
whispers.  That surprised and bothered him more than the rest.

"Before we really start, you should know that I am aware of what
happened to you during your undercover assignment, and that, while I am
here primarily to evaluate how you are doing with that--"

"This is an overall psychological evaluation, too.  I know."

"You haven't had to do this before, have you?  Not in relation to an
undercover assignment like this or something else that has happened on
the job."

"No," he answered, not quite meeting the woman's eyes.  He *should* have
done this before, but he had been able to talk his way out of it the
other times...such as when he'd used excessive force.  For the most
part, the accusations had been brushed off as hallucinations of a
deranged suspect.

"This time, however, it's mandatory, isn't it?"

Nick's eyes snapped up to the woman's.  He wasn't going to like this.
"Whether it is mandatory or not is irrelevant.  I'm here--and
willingly--so ask your questions."

"First, I have more to explain.  I don't know if anyone informed you of
the specific reason for this evaluation, but it is because of what they
did to you at the prison...from the legal, illegal, and lethal drugs you
were given, and the various forms of torture they used on you.  This is
first and foremost to evaluate any lasting effects from that experience
that might prevent you from doing your job effectively.  Do you
understand that?"

"Yes."

"Then I need you to read and sign this," she said, pushing a piece of
paper and pen across the table.  "And while this will mostly be an
interview of a sort, I'm also going to have you take a couple of tests."

Nick froze, skimming the words on the page.  "What will you do with the
results of those tests?"

"I will forward them to the department, along with my recommendation.
One is a test you've taken before--recently.  The other is an
intelligence test.  This will take a few hours.  If you have any
questions--even about my questions themselves--or want clarification
about anything, just ask."

He hesitated another second, then signed and dated the form.  "All
right, so what do you want to know?" he asked and saw her smile.

"What I want is truthful--and detailed--responses about how you feel,
especially since the termination of your undercover assignment."

"I've been recovering...recovered, as far as I can tell."

"Physically, perhaps."

"I have been medically cleared."

"By your wife."

"She would not have cleared me if I wasn't fine."

"Physically."

"Physically," he repeated.

"Have you had any notable symptoms since your return?  Insomnia,
nightmares, intermittent feelings of anxiety, fear, anger..."

"Nightmares," he said, knowing that was probably in her report.  The FBI
agents had probably noted it, plus it'd be expected, with the
circumstances.  "Several."

"Specifically in relation to what happened recently, or--"

"I suppose you could say they are flashbacks of what happened in the
prison...or maybe reconstructions from what I remember and what I was
told."

"So you don't remember everything."

"No, not everything.  I remember everything from before and after, but
not everything from while I was there.  I know what happened and I now
recognise what was and wasn't real from my time there, but my memories
are fragmented for those two weeks.  I think I spent much of the time
either unconscious or nearly so."

"How are you coping with what happened there?"

"I'm fine," he automatically replied, then closed his eyes, wishing he
hadn't said that.  "I knew beforehand what I would be in for, what
they'd do to me."

"And yet you volunteered?"

"Wouldn't you, if you were in a similar situation and knew they'd be
unlikely to kill you or do any permanent harm?  And I knew they wouldn't
find someone else.  It was either do something about the situation, or
do nothing and regret knowing that I could have made a difference."

"So when you could do something to help and are forced to stay on the
side-lines, that doesn't sit well with you, does it?"

"I probably would have felt like any other cop in that situation; in
some ways, we're not all that different from you."

"We?"

"Vampires, those like me."

"You think others--mortal humans--view you as different than them."

"Of course they do, and we are different...in some ways."

"What about your co-workers?  Do you think they think you're different?"

"Yes.  And, again, I am different and they know that, but--"

"But they're afraid of you.  Maybe not of you specifically, but of what
you are."

"Some of them, yes."

"And what about you?  Are you afraid of them?"

Nick froze and held back his answer.

"There is no right or wrong answer, Detective.  And I know some of what
has happened here has struck very close for you.  Lucien LaCroix,
your...father, so to speak, was nearly killed, as far as anyone knows,
for simply being a vampire, by a member of law enforcement.  Then, while
you were gone, your wife was unnecessarily shot--again, strictly for
being a vampire, and the one who shot her was a fellow cop.  And by
volunteering for that assignment, you purposely branded yourself as a
murderer in the eyes of your co-workers, as well as probably anyone with
a television, computer, or radio--and that was with at least some
members of your department already questioning your motives to begin
with."

"At least I'm less afraid of them than they are of me."

"But you are--"

"On some level, yes.  My kind's weaknesses are too well-known and, good
or bad, easy to exploit...even subtly."

"Have you been harassed for what you are?"

"Of course."

"But you haven't reported it?"

Nick looked away again.  "No."

"Because you're afraid or--"

"Because I didn't blame them for--  Because I didn't think they deserved
to get in trouble for it.  Only one individual did anything more than
verbally taunt me, and that had already stopped."

"I'm aware that you are banned from being in the 96th precinct during
dayshift's hours."

"And?  There's nothing I can do about that."

"You could have complained, appealed to the commission.  Why didn't
you?"

"Because I never thought about it.  It didn't overly impact my job.  It
didn't prevent me from working outside the precinct when necessary.  And
what happened to me, either at the precinct, or at the prison, won't
impact my ability to do my job."

"Being able to do your job isn't in question; it's the effects from that
experience...which, frankly, amounted to torture.  Repeated torture.
They, literally, killed you a good dozen times."

"And?"

"And...what?"

"What's your recommendation?"

"It's all preliminary for now...and will be based on more than just our
conversation."

"Those tests you mentioned," he remembered.

"You don't sound thrilled about those."

"Is anyone?"

"Not really," she said with a little smile.  "Now, I'd like to get back
to what you said earlier about nightmares..."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"So, how'd it go?" Natalie asked after Nick had arrived home and sank
into the sofa next to her, not even taking his coat off.  "Nick?"

"I don't know.  I think it went all right."

"You think?"

"The interview was...okay, I guess, but I had to take more tests.  One I
had done before."

"And?"

"And the other test was an intelligence test."

"That one might be interesting; I doubt you've taken one of those
before."

"That's what the examiner said.  It didn't help me feel any better...and
I think her recommendation is going to be primarily based on the tests
because of what happened.  I guess they want to know for sure if the
effects have worn off or if there are any lingering symptoms."

"And they have worn off, so I'm sure it will be all right," she said,
leaning into him.  "When will you know the results?"

"Tonight, hopefully.  Cohen should know."  He glanced around the loft,
surprised that LaCroix hadn't made some snide comment--he wasn't even
there.  "Where's LaCroix?"

"He went home...to the Raven.  He won't be back before dawn."

"Good," he whispered.

"Nick..."

"She asked me about the nightmares."

"Of course she did."

"I'm worried I might have said too much.  I tried to be honest, but I
might have been too honest, said too much..."

"Nick, your nightmares are completely normal, and that's all they
are--nightmares.  They wake you up--"

"And disorient me, and I told her that, too."

"And it's only just when you wake up...and not always.  So can you
please stop worrying?"

"Not today.  Maybe once I know the results...and then find out what
they're going to do with me and Schanke and--"

"Flanagan and Vetter."

"Flanagan.  He's a good cop and he has a lot of knowledge, but he
doesn't have enough experience to have Vetter as his partner.  She'll be
assigned to me and I just..."

"Is it because she's inexperienced, because of who her father is, or
because you aren't ready to really, well, train--"

"It's too much at once, I think.  And not knowing the full situation.
But now that I'm back and Briggs is gone, they'll have to make some sort
of decision.  Schanke made some comment about having talked to Cohen,
made some suggestions...but unless one of them gets transferred out and
someone else with more experience is transferred in, I can't see how
it'd change anything."

"You're not still thinking about quitting, are you?"

He hesitated and glanced toward her.  She looked worried.  Shaking his
head, he told her, "No.  I feel better after going in tonight.  Between
working a little and then getting the psych exam over with, I'm not
tempted to quit any more...even if it's probably the only way I won't
have to start over with another partner.  I think I'm more worried about
that than the test results, although I'd like to get those because I
don't want to be stuck at my desk...even if Schanke didn't go anywhere
last night.  It's just the idea of being...restricted, of being put on
light duty when I didn't do anything wrong."

"None of this is due to something you did, Nick; it's not unusual after
something like this.  If you had been shot or involved in a bombing or
the like...and I'm sure she told you that, assuming you--"

"Yeah, she made it clear the examination was only to ensure I had no
lasting effects.  I still hope I didn't say too much.  She brought up
some things--more than just how I feel, but she mentioned LaCroix being
shot, what happened to you, even me being banned from the precinct.
It's like she was baiting me."

"She's supposed to do that.  She wasn't there as a simple counsellor,
but to assess you."  She felt Nick tense.  "You didn't take the bait,
did you?"

"No.  It wasn't...it was just questions.  It wasn't like when LaCroix
baits me.  She was trying to hide it, but I think she was...confused by
some of my answers.  Or surprised, concerned, curious...  Something.  I
don't know what she'll say to the department, to Cohen and whoever else.
This wasn't like the other tests.  Those were..."

"More of a formality."

"This was required, I know."  He leaned back and closed his eyes.  After
suppressing a yawn, he added, "I just hope I don't have to go through
this again anytime soon," and then shifted so that he leaned more
against Natalie.  "And I'm glad you're here, Nat.  I would have quit and
vanished a long time ago if not for you."

She shifted when he leaned more into her, curling up in one corner while
he lay back atop her.

"And you didn't have to do this, become like me."

"Nick..."

"I know, it was your choice...and I'm thankful for it, but I needed to
say that."  He closed his eyes tighter as she touched his hair, wishing
he could stay there in her hold.  At least today would be quiet.  No
LaCroix--only him and Natalie.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (108/111)

"Oh, look, Cohen's looking at you..."

Nick glanced up from his desk and sure enough, Cohen stood in the
doorway to her office, her eyes on him.  He turned quickly back to his
work.  He had asked when he had come in if she had heard from the
psychologist, and she hadn't.

"I sure hope she cleared you.  We're running out of stuff to do and
looks like we need to pull Weaver in for questioning and--"

"And I can't go until I'm cleared for duty."

"And...nope, she went back in the office."

Nick glanced over again, but only for a second.

"And she shut the door.  Guess she still hasn't heard yet."

"Go on, take one of them," Nick said and nodded to where Vetter and
Flanagan sat working--they had been working nights with Schanke the last
few weeks.  "I'll be okay.  I can go visit Natalie or something."

"Or you could try and listen in..." Schanke suggested slyly.

"Or...no, I'll wait until she tells me; I'm not going to listen in.  But
go on, I'll keep working on this," he said and held up another file--on
Joel Weaver's girlfriend.  "But of the two--"

"He's more of a suspect.  I know."

Nick nodded and watched his partner slowly, reluctantly stand and start
to leave.  In the end, he went with Flanagan--the one of the two with
whom he got along better--and left, after several more glances back at
him.  Nick felt the ambience in the precinct change a little once
Schanke left.  This was the first time he had been alone at his desk for
what would be more than a few minutes, and as he feared, it only took a
few minutes for someone to come up to him.  Tracy Vetter had been that
first person, and she had asked how he was doing...and if he knew when
he'd find out if he was cleared for duty.  He had answered
truthfully--fine and hopefully later that night--but hadn't said
anything else.

After Schanke had been gone for half an hour, someone else came up to
him, this time a pair of officers he didn't interact with much--they
rotated between shifts, filling in where needed.  They were two of the
youngest at the precinct--one barely out of the academy--and they asked
him the same general question.  He had answered the same, but then they
had made another comment about how impressed they were by what he had
done, that he had volunteered, despite the risk.  He didn't get the
chance to comment.  They complimented him on a job well done, then left.
Even after Schanke had returned, he couldn't shake how uncomfortable he
felt at their comments.

Then, while his partner was back in interrogation, Cohen finally called
him into her office.  She remained at the door until he entered and sat,
then shut the door before starting over to her desk...but she didn't
sit.  "Captain..."

"You are now officially cleared to return to your usual duties."

Nick felt his muscles relax at that.  Cleared.  "Thank you, Captain."

"Don't thank me; it wasn't my decision.  Nor is the next thing we need
to discuss."

"Who's being assigned to whom?"

She briefly held up a hand and shook her head.  "No, I'm sorry, but that
hasn't been decided yet.  Several options are still under
consideration."

"What options?  I can only work nights, and Flanagan and Vetter are too
inexperienced to work alone.  The only--"

"I am not at liberty to discuss that, Detective, not yet."

"When?"

"I might have a decision in a couple of days."

"Then what else do you have to tell me?"

"You are no longer forbidden in the precinct during day-shift's hours.
If anyone says otherwise, I expect you to report them.  You are allowed
here at any time, whether it's midnight or noon, and no one should tell
you otherwise."

"Is that all?"

"Pretty much."  She went to her desk and pulled something out of a
drawer.

Nick tensed when he saw the weapon--his police weapon.

"You can have this back, and I also have something from the
psychologist."

He had already started putting his gun in its holster, which he had worn
tonight expecting to get his weapon back, but tensed at the last.  He
watched Cohen retrieve another object from her desk--a sealed envelope
from the top of her desk--which she handed to him.  "What is it?"

"I have no idea.  I was only told to give it to you.  It's for your eyes
only, by the look of it.  Now I would suggest you go and give Natalie
the good news before your partner is done."

Nick nodded and managed a smile as he stood.  He didn't feel as relaxed
as he expected he would at finally hearing the results--good results at
that.

He fiddled with the envelope on his way to his desk, then sat down.
What was it?  It was addressed to him simply as "Det. Knight," and he
flipped it open and unsealed it.  Inside was a plain piece of paper with
a handwritten note from his examiner.  A card slid out and onto his desk
when he unfolded the note.  It was her business card as the department's
psychologist...counsellor.  And the note had to do with what he had
said, specifically about the nightmares.  That if they got worse or
bothered him--or he showed other symptoms of PTSD--to please give her a
call.

He folded the note back up and slid it and the card back in the
envelope.  He didn't think he'd have to call her.  That day he had only
woken once from a nightmare, and that nightmare had consisted of Cohen
and one of the police commission demanding his badge, rather than giving
him back his weapon.  He and Natalie had slept there on the sofa and
this was the first day LaCroix hadn't been there, hovering...and it had
been the first day after returning to work.  Whether it was from his
life getting back to normal or LaCroix' absence, Nick had a feeling the
nightmares about what happened would soon pass.

"Hey, Knight, what's that?"

Nick quickly put the envelope in a drawer of his desk, muttering,
"Nothing," in reply to Schanke's question.

"They're not firing you, are they?"

He smiled at that.  "No, they're not firing me.  I passed.  I'm fully
cleared to go back to work."

"Great timing."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked, narrowing his eyes.  Had another case
just been dropped on them?

"Gives you a great reason to go check on Natalie."  Schanke raised an
eyebrow and nodded toward the front entrance as a hint.

"Of course I have--"

The mortal detective rolled his eyes in exasperation when his partner
utterly failed to take the hint.  "Good grief, pal.  It's *Valentine's
Day*.  Even I remember this one!"

Nick glanced at his computer screen and there, down in the corner, it
was indeed, February fourteenth--barely.  Half an hour into the day.
But that still counted, especially with the hours he and Natalie worked.

"Myra won't expect anything until this morning, but you..."

"I hadn't even thought about it," Nick whispered.  He had paid little
attention to what day it was; he had lost track while he had been in the
prison.

"Well, go out and buy her something special and tell her the good news.
It's about time for lunch, anyway..."

Nick pushed back a bit from his desk, then almost left, but grabbed the
letter out of his otherwise nearly empty middle drawer.  He'd have to
fix that, too.  He had a feeling it'd be Schanke switching desks, rather
than him whenever the new personnel arrangements were finalised.  Nick
slipped the letter into a jacket pocket, then headed outside, only to
stop abruptly in the parking lot.

What should he get for Natalie?  He didn't have a lot of time if he
wanted to go over there now...and he certainly hadn't had anything
planned ahead of time.

He took off, initially heading vaguely for the morgue, but changing
directions, heading further into town, searching for a store that was
open.  Ten minutes later, after picking through what turned out to be a
more extensive selection than he had expected, he had in hand a bouquet
of blood-red, half-blooming roses.

Arriving at the coroner's building, Nick snuck in and was pleased to
find Natalie alone and without a patient.  He didn't really get to
surprise her, however, as the moment he pushed open the door, she turned
to see him--and what he had brought.

"Roses!  Does that mean--"

"These mean I love you, Natalie," he smiled, then glanced down.  "And,
yes, it's official, I passed.  Cohen gave my weapon back and I am fully
back to work."

"And you came here because...?"

"It's time for lunch and...and since Schanke pointed out the date, I had
more than one reason to visit you."

"How much of your lunch did you lose getting these," she said, taking
the flowers from Nick as she leaned over to smell them.  "Very
fragrant."

"Not too much of it."

"Hmm..." she said, looking at the blood-red roses while she walked over
to a cabinet and pulled out a plain glass container, a little shorter
and wider than a vase.

"You don't like them," he worried aloud, while she filled the container
with water and added the flowers.

"No, no, it's only that...LaCroix kind of gave me a present for us, and
this reminds me a bit of that.  And I'm a bit surprised, even if it *is*
Valentine's Day.  You generally like daintier flowers..."

"But I like roses, too.  There just hasn't been anyone in my life,
anyone as special as you, who I wanted to...  I never really thought
much about flowers for anyone else, Natalie.  Only you."

Natalie glanced at him and could see him smiling, but also looking
almost embarrassed.  She looked away before any of her own embarrassment
surfaced.

"So...how many guesses would it take for me to guess what LaCroix' gift
is?" Nick asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"One."

"A bottle of blood."

"For us to share.  It's a bit odd.  The bottle, anyway.  It has a
label--not the Raven's, though."

"I don't think there are any bottles labelled with the Raven any more,
Nat, not since--"

"Not since vampires were revealed," she finished.  "But it's...here,
wait a second," she said.

She went behind her desk and pulled out the bottle, which she set next
to the flowers.  The label had small sketched pictures of roses in two
opposing corners.  "He brought it by at midnight.  He's probably been
waiting weeks to do that."  She turned to the live roses.  "I think I
like your gift more; it'll last longer, for one."

"And there's no guilt attached."

"Well, yeah, but I'll remember the flowers much longer, too," she said
with a not-so-gentle shove.  "Especially with how forgetful you can be
about holidays.  Schanke had to remind you, huh?"

"I'm sure I would have noticed...eventually.  I mean it's barely the
fourteenth.  You know I'm not really that forgetful.  I've always
remembered your birthday."

"Hmm."

"I have.  Eventually...before the day was up."

"Like you'd ever be able to forget that one--or our anniversary,
although I can't blame you for that one."

"Pick something, anything, and we'll do it."

"I think spending the day alone with you will be more than enough,
Nick...and I do really like the roses," she told him and kissed him
lightly on the lips.  "And you don't have to go back to work quite yet,
do you?"

"No, I don't--and I can be late," he said, grinning, and kissed her
back.

"I bet Cohen won't like that."

"I don't think she'll care.  I'm pretty sure she knows I'm here, and if
not, Schanke can tell her.  Besides, if I'm back late, I'll just stay
over.  I'm no longer banned while day-shift is there."

"Hmm, see?  And you were worried..."  She kissed him again and pushed
him back toward the door, which she locked.

Nick smiled at that and let her push him back along the counter, past
the vase of roses and bottle of blood, and kiss him again.  This time he
more hungrily returned the kiss.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (109/111)

"I think you all know why you're in here."

"To reassign us," Nick answered.

"To decide what to do with you four," Cohen said, her attention drifting
from Nick and going to Schanke, Vetter, and Flanagan, all of whom were
in her office.  "We have narrowed it down to two options, but the
ultimate choice will be made by Knight and Schanke."

"What are the options?" Flanagan asked.

"One is to split Knight and Schanke.  In that case, you will be assigned
to work with Schanke on days and Vetter will be assigned to Knight."

"And the other option?" Nick asked.

"To more or less leave things the way they are."

"But--"

"Vetter and Flanagan can remain partners if you and Schanke are willing
to--for lack of a better description--sponsor them.  You'd have extra
work, you'd have to be available at all hours to answer questions and
give support, even review their work at times."

Cohen turned toward Vetter and Flanagan.  "And while you two don't have
the final decision, I want you all to think this over, and discuss what
you'd prefer and what you think would be best for everyone involved.
And you should all be aware that you may all be required to collaborate
on some cases if you take this alternate option, and that at times you
might be switched around.  But if it doesn't work out, then--"

"Then it will default to the first," Nick guessed.

"Yes, Knight, it would.  Now, I want all of you to discuss this and make
a decision, and I would like an answer as soon as possible."

"But don't be hasty in our decisions," he said.

"Correct."

"Do you have a preference, Captain?" Tracy asked.  "I mean, what would
you choose?"

"To be honest, I couldn't make the choice myself, which is part of why
I'm leaving it to you four; I trust Knight and Schanke to weigh the
options and address any concerns you and Flanagan may have," Cohen
answered, her gaze eventually settling on Schanke before turning away
and leaving the office.

The four remained where they stood for a good minute after Cohen left
before anyone said anything.  Schanke broke the silence, asking,
"So...thoughts?"

"She say what hours Vetter and I would work?" Flanagan asked.

"Probably days or something close to it, given her comment about 'at all
hours'..." Schanke replied.  "Which probably would mean me because,
ah..."

"I don't think it means just you, Skank," Nick cut in.  "And I think we
should take some time to think about this before talking too much about
it."  He left the office and headed to his desk.

It wasn't long before his partner sat across the way, and he asked,
"What do you think about Cohen's...alternative option?"

"Sounds fine by me."

"Even all the extra work?  Extra paperwork, too, probably, not to
mention being woken up in the middle of the day, possibly having to get
up and go somewhere, too?" he asked and watched Schanke stare down at
his desk, moving files from one pile to another.  "You knew that might
be an option, didn't you?"

"I...  All right, it was my idea."

Nick raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised.  "Your idea?"

"Yeah, Knight, *my* idea.  I knew you wouldn't really like the idea of
getting a new partner and...well, this way we all kind of win."

"You get stuck working nights...for even longer than you already have,
because of me."

"And I'm okay with it.  I've had a lot of time to think it over and talk
about it with Myra."

"And you're really willing to take on the role of their babysitter?"

"We're both gonna be in that role one way or another, so...sure.  And
they might be green, but they're not too green.  I think they'll be all
right with some extra help."

"Supervision.  And you know if they screw up--"

"It could be on us.  I know, I know."

"And you know it'll be a lot of extra work," Nick brought up again.
"You already have a hard enough time with the paperwork we have and--"

"And you'd help out, wouldn't ya?  Knight?"

Now it was Nick's turn to look down at his desk.

"You do like the idea, don't you?"

"It's not only my opinion that matters, Skank.  Or yours.  Did you tell
them about this idea ahead of time?"

"Er, no."

"Did you think that perhaps they might want full partners,
individual...mentors, like everyone else?"

"Well, we can ask...make it their choice.  I just thought, from things
you've said, that maybe..."

"I'm not going to quit, Schanke, not even if you're reassigned.  I like
my job, and if I keep it, I know I'll have to get used to working with
other people."

"But you'd be up for doing the mentor thing, though, right?  I mean,
it's kinda similar.  They'd be on their own a bit more and Cohen could
split us up temporarily at times or have us all work together.  It'd be
a little different, but I've heard some things about other departments
doing this, kinda having two teams be integrated..."

"That's how you presented it to Cohen, isn't it?"

"Hey, I thought it was worth an ask, and I'm glad they're at least
willing to consider it on a trial basis.  So, just...think about it,
will ya?"

"I'll have to talk about it with Natalie.  And we both need to talk
to--"

"The other two.  Yeah.  I know.  You and Cohen are both right.  It
should be their decision, too.  And it will be, but you should have
input, too."

"We all should."  Nick glanced up, seeing movement coming toward them.
Vetter and Flanagan wanted to talk, by the looks of it, had already
talked it over a little and wanted to see what they thought.  "And I
guess we might as well talk about it now," he added just before the two
reached their desks.

"So..." Flanagan started, then Nick suggested they go elsewhere--to one
of the conference rooms--to talk.  It didn't help any.  They didn't
really care, and neither did Schanke.  It would end up being primarily
his choice, unless he could convince Cohen to pick something...

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"Nick, stop pacing and drink something."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yes, Nick, you are.  And you're already going to be late to work; a
couple more minutes won't hurt much," Natalie said while she poured two
glasses full and took one to him, standing in his path to force him to
stop.  "Drink it.  It might help calm you down...or help you decide.  I
have a feeling you haven't, yet."

"I don't know, Nat," he said, taking the glass.  He stared into it a
moment before taking a long, large swallow.

"And I don't see what the big deal is.  Might as well try out Schanke's
suggestion and see how it goes.  Who knows, you all might like it.  And
it'd give you the chance to work with more people, which is a good
thing."

"So you say."

"So would Schanke and Cohen, and most everyone I could ask."

"Not everyone, though."

Natalie grimaced and replied, "LaCroix doesn't count.  Besides, who
knows, he might surprise us.  But I do think it's a good thing for you
to interact with more people.  For one, it's good for you, and for
another, it's good because--"

"Because I'm a vampire working among mortals.  I'd be setting a good
example, something for people to talk about."

"Something *good* for them to talk about," she repeated, agreeing.
"And, Nick, they will talk...and it will be good.  You'll see.  I've
already heard a lot of people make comments on what you did--good
comments."

"Anyone volunteer to take care of the graffiti for us?"

"Ah, not yet, not really, but I kind of thought you were considering
leaving it.  Or were you?"

"Wait--what do you mean by 'not really'?"

"Someone kind of asked about it.  I brushed them off since, again, I
thought--"

"I know.  But I've been thinking more..."

"And?"

"And it might be better to get rid of it..." he started, taking another
drink from his glass.  "If our address ever gets out, even part of it--"

"The graffiti would lead them straight here."

"And at some point our address will get out, Nat.  And seeing that
wouldn't make a good impression.  I think we should get it cleaned up
before something else happens."

"But not right now."

"No, not right now."  Nick upended his glass once more, draining it.
"I'd have to call in to take the whole night off if I did that, and I
don't think that would go over well."

"And you think showing up ten minutes late will?"

"It'll give me another night to interact with others.  Isn't that a good
thing?"

She waited, then watched Nick start over to the counter after a few
moments of silence and set his glass in the sink.  But then he didn't
turn to leave like he should.  "So...have you made your decision yet, or
are you still thinking about it?"

"Still thinking."

"Think at work--that is an option, you know.  And I'm sure the others
have thought more about it as well.  Maybe they'll make the decision for
you.  You never know, right?"

"Maybe," he whispered, then took off right there, not bothering with the
elevator or stairs.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (110/111)

"After taking half the night to tell Cohen, what happens?  *They* get
the case.  And rather than have us go keep an eye on them...*she* goes
instead.  And us?  Well, we get stuck here, pretty much doing
*nothing*."

"And that's okay, Shank; we'll get the next one."

"It'll probably be another suicide."

"Suicides have dropped off...or they have according to Natalie."

"Still, with our luck it'll be another suicide.  Or, well, with *my*
luck..."  Schanke fiddled with a pen on his desk.  "Just...shouldn't we
be--"

"The idea is for them to work as independently as they can.  And that
means Cohen goes this time, not us.  She probably wants to observe them
before we get--"

"Fed to the wolves?"

Nick raised his eyebrows.  "Already thinking about backing out?  This
was your idea, remember?"

"I know, but you're probably right.  She'll have a list of stuff for us
to watch for or fix or whatever..."  He tapped the pen in his hands a
few more times, thinking.  "You know, this is going to get boring.
Unless..."

"Unless...?"

"Unless there's more than just vampires out there.  Werewolves, maybe?"

"Sorry, Schanke.  Not as far as I know, anyway."

"Then things are about to--"

"Get back to normal; things are finally about to get back to normal."

"That sounds even worse when you say it like that.  Although, it won't
really be like it was..."

"We'll be working with others, possibly permanently."

"Which I've been doing...which *we've* already been doing, really, if
you think about it.  But at least I got my partner back."

"It'll still be different."

"What?  Because of what you are?"

Nick nodded, surprised Schanke was glossing over all of that.

"It doesn't change who you are, Knight.  In fact, all of
this--especially that undercover assignment--just confirms *who* you
really are.  You've been what you are the whole time I've known you--and
everyone else here has known you--and what you did is *exactly*
something everyone would expect from you, regardless of what you are.
And I know that if you hadn't had to tell everyone what you are, and you
were approached about doing an undercover assignment in, well, a regular
prison where something was going on or being covered up...you would have
done it anyway, wouldn't you?"

Nick glanced down, a little surprised by how accurate his partner's
words were.

"No, don't answer that.  I don't need an answer, nor does anyone else."

"Schanke--"

"I haven't heard a single bad thing said about you since you came back.
Not one.  Have you?"

"Not...really.  But it's still not like it was before, not yet anyway,"
he admitted.  Maybe Schanke was right that things would get more back to
normal, finally.  Less people talking about him in whispers, less than
before that night in the Raven, even.  He immediately abandoned his
thoughts when his phone rang.

"Probably Natalie.  You gonna go over there for lunch?" Schanke asked
before Nick moved to pick it up.

"It's not Natalie.  Even if she's left the scene, I doubt she'll be
taking lunch for a couple more hours."

"Oh, er..."

Nick ignored the protests and picked up his phone.

"Nicholas?"

Nick tensed.  If LaCroix was calling him at work, it couldn't be
anything good.  "What do you want?"

"To speak with you."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

"All right, what--"

"Not on the phone.  Choose somewhere close to your work where we won't
be disturbed."

Nick tried to protest, but already his sire had hung up.

"What was that about?" Schanke demanded in a whisper.

"I'll be back--not sure when," he said, slowly standing.

"Yeah, but that was you-know-who, wasn't it?  It's gotta be something...
I don't think he's ever called you here before."

Nick met his partner's gaze for a moment.  Schanke had reached the exact
same conclusion he had, and nearly as fast.

"Come on, Partner...tell me what's going on for once."

"I would if I could.  Right now, I have no idea what he might want.
I'll be back," he said again, and this time he didn't hesitate on his
way out.  He exited through the back, knowing it would draw less
attention.  The moment he reached the cold night air, he took off, not
even checking to see if anyone was watching.  He only flew a few blocks
away before settling on a flat, empty rooftop that rose a level above
all the nearby buildings.

He waited, becoming impatient as minutes passed.  LaCroix had wanted to
see him urgently, he had thought, but then where was he?

He paced, and more minutes passed.  He felt tempted to return to work.
Instead, he forced himself to remain still.  He closed his eyes and just
waited.  Relaxing, he focused on nothing other than his surroundings.
Eventually, he sensed his visitor.

"What took you so long?" Nick asked, turning to face his sire.

"I was unexpectedly detained."

"By?"

"A shipment for the club.  While I was leaving to meet you, one of my
employees alerted me to a discrepancy.  Nothing to worry yourself
about."

"Why did you want to speak with me?  And why here rather than over the
phone or after I was off?  You could have come by the loft to tell me
whatever--"

"I wanted to speak to you somewhere we would not be watched."

Nick narrowed his eyes.  "Not be watched?"

"Not that we would necessarily be watched if we had met at your loft,
but..."

"But?"

LaCroix turned away, letting out a breath.  "I have been hearing
rumours."

"You always hear rumours."

"Since your arrest--and even more-so after your release--I have been
hearing certain accounts about...them."

"Them?  Who are--"

"Enforcers."

Nick relaxed a little.  "What about them?"

"They have been gradually reclaiming their position in our society."

"Are you sure they ever left it?"

LaCroix laughed.  "I am quite sure.  I have many sources for
information.  From the time of our exposure until the time of your
arrest, they did *nothing*."

Nick still didn't see why his sire was so upset at this, upset and
surprised.  Or paranoid, considering where they were talking.  "And?
I'm sure they are no threat to us.  If they went after either of us or
Natalie, they'd be discovered.  Few mortals know about them, and I'm
sure they want to keep it that way."

"But they are a danger to others.  And who knows what they will do to us
now?  Their purpose for existing has been eliminated, Nicholas."

This did worry Nick a little, but he shook his head.  "Don't probe into
whatever they're doing, LaCroix, assuming they're doing anything worth
worrying over."  He exhaled and let some of his tenseness dissipate, but
it was replaced by annoyance.  "Why are you telling me this, anyway?  I
never believed they had given up their position, their role in our
society."

"I thought you would want to know there were signs they were getting
involved in our affairs once again."

"Have you done something?  Is that why you're so paranoid about this?
Do you think they'll go after you?"

LaCroix laughed again, this time turning back to face his son.  "You
think I'm paranoid?"

"You were worried about being overheard, had me meet you alone,
somewhere we haven't ever met."  Nick paused, then added, "And you
called me at work, wanting to speak to me immediately.  Even Schanke
recognised that was odd.  He'd certainly call you paranoid."

"I suppose you're right--he would.  But, no, Nicholas, I have not 'done
something'.  I merely thought it more prudent to tell you somewhere
other than the club, your work, or your home."

"I understand the first two, but why not the loft?"

"Like it or not, you are by far the most visible of us.  If they are to
watch anything in Toronto other than the club right now...it will be you
and Natalie."

"And you think they could be watching you--that they might follow you to
my place," Nick guessed.

"Not necessarily follow me...but they do know we are relatively close,
and why."

Nick got what the other was hinting at.  They were family, and the
Enforcers always kept in mind family relationships, especially if the
members of said family lived in the same city or were closely entwined.
Like it or not, LaCroix was well known to keep certain members of his
family especially close.  "What about Schanke?"

"That mortal--"

"Is my friend."

"I doubt he is in any danger.  So far the mortals have at least tried to
take care of their own.  I'm sure the Enforcers will focus on their own.
In other words--us."  LaCroix turned, only to slowly spin back a second
later.  "Will you tell him about them?"

"Probably."

"And your Captain?  Will you tell her?"

"She already knows about the Enforcers."

"Is that a yes, or...?"

"Again, probably."  Nick sighed, closing his eyes.  "Is there anything
else?"

"No."

"Then I need to get back to work.  I've already been gone too long," he
told his sire.  Then, without further acknowledgement, he took off,
leaving LaCroix alone on the rooftop.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

The rest of the night went quickly--too quickly.  By the time Nick got
back to the precinct, Cohen had returned and had noticed his absence.
She had also questioned Schanke, only to discover he didn't know
anything, beyond that his partner had gone to speak with LaCroix.

That had only generated more questions.  Cohen narrowed her eyes at him,
and he fully expected to be called into the office.  He hadn't, but he
did explain to Schanke what his 'father' had wanted.  He kept the
explanation short, only telling his partner about the Enforcers and that
LaCroix believed they were taking their old jobs back, and that it was
nothing to worry about.  The population at large wouldn't even know they
existed.

He left work the moment he could, only to arrive home and find himself
alone.  The loft felt so empty right now and he paced in aimless circles
around the loft for several minutes before eventually sitting at the
piano.  He hadn't played much of late, and not at all since sometime
before his undercover assignment, but even just sitting there calmed
him.  Momentarily he started tinkering, playing the beginning of one
song, then switching to another, until he settled on something by
Mozart--Fantasia in D Minor.  Not his favourite, but it somehow fit his
mood.

He played it start to finish once, then started over with first a slower
tempo, which changed the character of the music.  Just as he began it a
third and what would probably be last time, this time faster, he heard
the elevator start up.  Natalie was coming home, and she had a guest.
Figuring it was Schanke, Nick continued until nearly the end, when he
caught a faint whiff of perfume and he abruptly stopped.  It wasn't
Schanke, but Cohen, and he pulled his hands away from the keys and
turned.  He should have guessed immediately.  His partner wouldn't have
stood by, silently.

"You didn't need to stop on my account, Detective.  That was beautiful.
I didn't know you played."

"It's only a hobby; I'm not very good.  What I am...  We can't play like
mortals."

"Then I take it you've never played professionally?"

"No."  Not particularly wanting to talk about himself--or this in
particular--he stood and physically distanced himself from the baby
grand, hoping Cohen would get the hint to change topics.  "I take it you
want to talk to me?"

"Yes, I do.  I would have earlier, but I suspected you'd prefer not to
be called into my office yet again.  The others do notice...and wonder."

"What did you want to ask about?" he asked, but already had a guess.

"Why you were gone earlier.  Your partner told me you had left to speak
with LaCroix."

"Yes."

"May I ask what it was about, or is it something personal?"

Nick tensed.

"I'm only asking because after you returned you seemed...distracted,
tense.  With everything that has happened recently, if something else
has happened, I hope you know you can talk to me about it."

"It's nothing, Captain."

"Your partner didn't think so.  I'm here off the record, but if
something is bothering you..."

He hesitated, turning and stepping away, despite that he had hinted to
LaCroix that he might tell Cohen.  "Do you remember when you initially
questioned me?  After I told you what I was?"

"Yes."

He turned back to face Cohen.  "And when I mentioned that we have our
own laws and individuals who enforce those laws?"

"Vaguely...  I think you mentioned not knowing how this--vampires being
revealed--changed that."

"They've been...quiet throughout most of this."

"But?"

"LaCroix thinks they are beginning to resume their old roles."

"Which means?"

"I'm not sure it means anything, beyond that they feel...safer.  Or I
hope that's all it means.  In the past, the Enforcers would have killed
anyone that threatened our anonymity--mortal or vampire alike--but
now...I would think they would only act on internal matters."

"Internal matters.  Meaning they will only kill other vampires?" Cohen
asked and got a nod.  "I'm not sure that is very comforting."

"It is to be expected.  As things settle...some things are likely to go
back to the way they used to be, or close to it."

"But their role before was to...what, keep your existence secret?"

"Yes."

"And what will be their purpose now?"

Nick stiffened, Cohen's question echoing LaCroix' comment from earlier.
"That's the problem--we don't know, or not precisely.  As I said, I'd
think they'd focus on vampires only--those who are doing something to
draw unwanted attention to us.  But that is just a guess.  All we can do
is wait.  I don't think it's anything to be concerned about, though."
Turning away again, he headed toward the kitchen.  "Can I get you
anything?" he asked, hesitating near the sink.

"No.  While I would like some coffee, I doubt you--"

"Actually, we have both coffee and tea," Natalie said.

"Thank you for the offer, but I really should get going.  I mainly just
wanted to see how you were doing and if there was anything I can
do...which it sounds like there isn't."

"You could have done that over the phone," Nick noted.

"I could have, but I'm glad I didn't," she replied, smiling.  "I'll see
you tonight."

Natalie watched Cohen head back to the elevator, then asked her
something she had wanted to since she had seen Cohen's car pull up
behind her, "I know you came to check on us, check on Nick, but...we
know you've had to deal with as much as we have, probably more...  How
are you doing with all of this?"

"As well as one can.  But I do hope things settle back down after this,
rather than ramp up again."

"I'm sure everything will be okay," Natalie said.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"No, no, I really am fine...and I really should go.  I can tell I'm
making you uncomfortable.  I am, after all, an uninvited guest."

Now Nick visibly shifted.

Cohen gave him a slight grin.  "I'll see you tonight...probably both of
you."  She started back toward the elevator.  "And next time, don't
stop.  It really was quite beautiful."

Once Cohen left, the elevator starting down, Nick resumed his path to
the fridge.  Getting a bottle and taking it back over to the counter, he
asked, "Do you really believe that, Nat?  That everything will be okay?
I mean...everything."

"You know I do.  I do agree that it'll take some time, but considering
how all of this happened, things really haven't gone as bad as they
could have.  Vampires could have rebelled, essentially started a war,
then they would have been hunted down and exterminated.  It would have
been a far different world if that had happened.  But it didn't.  I
think it just goes to show that the human race has advanced enough that
they'll accept us.  Not all of them at the same time, of course, but
they'll get there.  Eventually.  Most of them, anyway.  And, who knows,
it might not be that long before they even start to capitalise on us."

"I don't know about that last, Nat..."

"Oh, come on.  You'll see.  In a couple, maybe a few years, they'll have
commercials marketing things to us, to vampires.  I'd make a pretty big
wager on that."

"You don't gamble," he pointed out.

"And neither do you, but I would on this."

"Just...just don't say anything to Schanke about that."

Natalie chuckled, then promised, "I won't, but in truth he's probably
thought about it himself.  And if he hasn't, he sure will or someone
else will mention it.  It's really not that far of a stretch."

"I suppose," he agreed, but he didn't like the idea of possibly being
pestered about some weird product marketed toward vampires.

"And we really should go over there sometime for a visit."

"Nat..."

"I know, I know.  With everything that's happened, it's the last thing
on your mind.  You just want things to go back to the way they were, but
we have to come to terms with the fact that they won't.  Things might
never get much closer than they are now--and if they don't, we can live
with that.  So, might as well...enjoy ourselves, maybe go over to
Schanke's and--"

"Dinner is out of the question."

She wanted to protest, but stopped herself.  "All right," she agreed.
"Dinner is out, but we could always go over right after.  I'm sure they
have some games that can be played by a small group of people.  If
not--"

"You'll think of something," he guessed.

"Of course.  Don't worry.  It'll be fine, you'll see."  She paused, then
shut her eyes for a moment before adding, "And I agree with Cohen that
you shouldn't have stopped playing.  Go back to the piano and play some
more; I'll get this."  Not waiting for a response, she opened up the
cupboard and retrieved two wine glasses.

Nick smiled a little before heading back to the piano.  Maybe he
shouldn't have stopped, but Cohen hadn't been there to listen to him
play.



Forgive Us Our Trespasses - (111/111)

As days passed, Nick felt both more relaxed and on edge.  He hadn't
heard anything more from LaCroix, nor had anything else happened.  He
and Schanke had helped out a little on the other two's latest case,
beginning the trial run of Schanke's suggestion of their new work
arrangements.  So far that had gone okay, although they had only had a
couple, fairly short conversations that included everyone.

He even found himself actually enjoying it.  He could tell that Schanke
took great pleasure instructing the younger detectives in how they could
do things even better--maybe a little too much.  He enjoyed watching
that, at least for a little while, before stepping in.  He felt the two
junior detectives would be fine.

In fact, overall he felt work in general would be all right.  A couple
of days ago, both he and Natalie had found sealed envelopes with several
hundred dollar bills inside.  Both had come with simple notes saying
what they were for.  One was for Natalie's car, which she hadn't yet had
fixed, and the other specified it was to clean up the graffiti.  He
hadn't, so far, figured out who had made the donations.

Cohen didn't know, either; they had gone to her after Natalie had
dropped by the precinct to mention the one she had found, right when he
had found his own envelope.  Initially Cohen had confiscated the
envelopes, but after a couple of days, she returned them.  Since the
money couldn't be returned and was probably from some of their
co-workers, it had eventually been deemed theirs to keep.

That had finalised his decision on getting rid of the graffiti or not.
While the money wasn't necessary, whoever had given it would know if it
hadn't been used for its intended purpose if they left it.  That, and by
providing the funds, Nick supposed it meant they cared.  He took it for
an awkward apology; it meant that perhaps they didn't want his home
address discovered because of what either they or some other cop had
done.

What he really worried about was what LaCroix would have planned for his
and Natalie's day off--the following night.  Since things had calmed
down again, he worried LaCroix would once more want to spend time with
both him and Natalie, whether together or not.  Specifically, he feared
his sire would somehow trick him into killing again, although he thought
that issue had been settled.  There were the Enforcers to consider, but
that had never stopped LaCroix in the past.  Since his sire had
mentioned them, they hadn't again spoken.  Nor had he really spent much
time with LaCroix since he had come back from his assignment.  At first
he had, yes, but they hadn't really talked.  His sire had just
been...there.

Nick stepped out of the elevator, expecting to find Natalie waiting for
him, only to find LaCroix sitting in the recliner.  He couldn't think
how this could be good.  He'd rather the other man come by after sunset,
not just before dawn.  "Thirty minutes to sunrise.  What--"

"I thought I would visit, nothing more."

"What do you want?"

"Merely to spend time with my children."

"Natalie and I already have something planned for this morning."

"May I join you?"

"You wouldn't be interested.  Come back tonight.  I told you a couple of
days ago--"

"You both have tonight off.  Yes, I remember."

"Then come back tonight if you want to spend time with us," Nick
repeated.

"What do you have planned?"

"As I said, nothing you'd be interested in."

"You never know..."

"Natalie is getting a movie and we plan to watch it, that's all."

"And the movie?"

"I don't know--could be anything," Nick answered, not sure why LaCroix
seemed so interested in something so...mortal.  "Like I said, Natalie is
getting it...as in picking it.  And you might say she has eclectic
tastes, so I never know what to expect.  She likes it that way,
surprising me like that.  You wouldn't--"

"I think I will stay, Nicholas.  No sense in trying to dissuade me."

"Natalie's choice of movies might do that for me."

"I doubt it.  If necessary, I can always retreat to the bedroom.  You
won't even know I'm here."

"We'll know."

"It won't be necessary...but if you feel it is, then say so."

"And you'll go without protest?"

"Of course."

Nick narrowed his eyes at the answer, then averted his gaze in defeat.
"All right.  But if she tells you to leave--"

"Then I will leave for the day and not return until tonight."

"And what do you have planned for tonight?"

"I don't have anything...planned."

"I don't believe that."

"Perhaps I merely want to spend time with my family.  After all, we've
barely spoken since you returned."

"We've argued," Nick pointed out.

"About trivial matters.  Have your nightmares stopped?"

"You know they haven't," he admitted and walked away, toward the
kitchen.

"Nicholas..."

"I don't want to argue, LaCroix."

"And as I said, that is not why I am here."

"You're worried about me."

"Of course I am.  They could have killed you, and I'm not sure you've
fully come to terms with what happened."

"I'm fine."

"But you are still having nightmares, which, by the way, I was *not*
aware of.  I had hoped that perhaps they had ceased after your return to
work."

"No, not completely.  But I am all right, LaCroix; it's not like it was.
I don't need your help."

"And, again--"

"That's not why you're here," Nick finished before his sire could repeat
himself.  Surprisingly, the other man didn't continue to argue.  "Are
you sure you want to stay the day?"

"If I am allowed..."

Nick closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and leaned forward on the
kitchen counter.  He hoped he wouldn't regret this.  "It's fine...at
least with me.  And probably with Natalie, too, but..."

"Good.  Now, why don't you get something to drink and join me while we
wait?"

Nick slowly straightened, then retrieved a glass.  Rather than go to the
fridge, he went over to where LaCroix sat and took the still open bottle
on the table by the recliner and filled his glass, then he sat on the
sofa.  He hoped that the day would go smoothly.

Despite their differences, their differing opinions, they had grown
closer over the last few months.  And he liked that, even if he wouldn't
admit it, not right now.  LaCroix would simply laugh.  He took a sip of
the blood, relaxing a little at the ordinary taste.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Nick woke midday to find Natalie and himself alone on the couch.
LaCroix had gone up to the bedroom at some point after the movie had
finished, and they had soon fallen asleep.

Surprisingly, the morning hadn't gone that bad with LaCroix there.
Beyond a couple of sarcastic comments and a chuckle at how one person
had died, it was almost as though he wasn't there--almost.  If he hadn't
been able to see his sire out of the corner of his eye, that would have
been even better.

"Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"You awake?"

"Yeah," he said.

"You want to stay down here, or..."

"We might as well, unless you want--"

"I don't care, but..."  Natalie shifted, getting a wince when she gently
elbowed him in the ribs, "But there is more room up there."

"I'm okay here.  I don't want to wake him."

"You don't want to wake him, or you don't want being near him to trigger
another nightmare?"

Now Nick shifted, trying and failing to pull away and sit up.

She pinned him down by his shoulders.  "I know you think it was being
around him that made the nightmares worse those few days after you got
back."

"When he left, it got better, Nat."

"Maybe it wasn't him leaving, but you going back to work that made
things better.  After all, you confronted at least some of your fears
and were rewarded by those fears diminishing, if not--"

"But now--"

"I don't think being around LaCroix is going to make that any worse."

"I'm okay here, Nat."

"Even with me--"

"Especially with you," he smiled and watched her rather serious
expression turn into a half-smile.  "I couldn't have made it through all
of this without you, Natalie.  You know that, right?"

"Yeah.  And you know what?  I think you've helped a lot of other people
get through this, too."

"But I haven't--"

"You held your ground.  You put up with all the scrutiny and showed
people that vampires aren't something to be, well, deathly afraid of.
Things have come a long way in the last few months.  And they'll go a
lot further in the next months and years.  You just wait and see."

"Yeah, I know.  Toothpaste marketed for vampires," he joked.

Natalie cringed at the idea.  "I don't think any vampire would willingly
use toothpaste, even if it was blood flavoured or something."  She shut
her eyes and smiled again, this time more openly.  "Of course that
doesn't mean some poor guy in a room won't come up with the idea.
Something to look forward to, I suppose.  Seeing all the weird
inventions..."

"Maybe..."

"And maybe someone will come up with--"

"I don't want to become mortal now, Nat.  I can't.  It'd be an instant
death sentence for me, and however much I want to be human, I don't want
to die."

"Maybe right now, but I was more thinking that someone will develop a
real blood substitute.  That's something more vampires than just you
would be interested in."

"If human blood could be perfectly replicated..."

"It will happen at some point, Nick.  It's not if, but when.  A lot of
things will now be possible for vampires that never have been before.
Just wait and see."

"I know--wait a few years, a few decades...  The world will be changed.
Again.  But this time...this time will be different.  Faster than any
other change, any other invention."

"Oh, I don't know about that.  Think how fast the internet is taking
over, and it's only been available to the population at large a few
years.  I think we're going to have some competition."

Nick relaxed a little at that and whispered, "Maybe."

"Good."

"Good?"

"You finally relaxed, something you need to get used to doing again."

"I thought I did good earlier."

"Once you stopped looking over at LaCroix.  He's not going to hurt
you...or me.  Or anyone."

"Nat--"

Her grin evaporated, turning into a grimace.  "Okay, not anyone we know,
I suppose, but at least he hasn't tried ambushing you or pushing you
into doing anything you don't want to do...nor me.  And I think it'll
stay that way, and not only for today."

"I hope so," he whispered, speaking the truth, but fearing it a little.
Not wanting to talk any further about LaCroix or worry about the future,
he turned their conversation back to themselves and asked, "So...we
staying here or going upstairs?"

"Here is okay, Nick.  Again, unless you want to move.  But here at least
we're alone...relatively, anyway."

Nick smiled at that.  "Yes, we are," he said and then struggled against
Natalie's hold to lean up and kiss her.  Pulling away, he closed his
eyes and listened with more than just his ears--LaCroix was asleep and
he smiled.  "Completely--for the moment, anyway," he whispered and
kissed her again.

By now their fangs had descended and he knew they wouldn't go much
further before finding release in each other's blood.  He was still
getting used to that, but he would.  And the two of them would get used
to whatever else that came their way.  After all, they both had
eternity.


~finis~

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story!

Dark Chocolate, White Chocolate, comments, etc. gratefully accepted at:
jarvinia@gmx.com

Jarvinia
http://gryffonslair.com
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