Somehow...
Copyright 1997 by Dorothy Elggren
Author's Notes

This story actually needs a bit of an introduction, so...

One day I was minding my own business, driving home in rush-hour
traffic, and wham!, this scene played itself out in my mind with an
incredible intensity.  It was quite a rush!  The problem was,
it was obviously a sequel to Somewhere, a story I wrote last year.

I shook my head and said, no, absolutely not.  I'm not going there.
Nope.  Not a chance.  No. No. NO!  I could not think of any valid
reason why Natalie would tell Nick what had happened in Somewhere.
But it was such a good scene, that it wouldn't leave me alone, and
eventually this story evolved.

BTW If you have not read Somewhere, you'll be wondering what is going
on.  Sorry about that, but it's just the way it worked out.  So, if
haven't read Somewhere, you can find it on the ftp site or at the
fiction page (www.fkfanfic.com).

I want to thank my beta readers Kayleen Woolf and specially Cindy
Ingram for their excellent insight and suggestions.  This story is
much better because of their work.  Also thanks to my sister Jeanne
for doing the most difficult job of all, grammar.

 As always, it was fun to play with these characters and I wish they
were mine...but they're JP's.  But I took good care of them, and put
them back in *perfect* condition... <g>

Finally, while Somewhere was Natalie's story, it is appropriate that
Somehow is Nick's story.

As always, any and all comments are appreciated at 
delggren@loftworks.com.

So, let's roll Fred's wonderful music,

He was brought across in 1228...




Prologue

         "There is change in the air...you can *feel* it, *smell* it,
can't you?  It hangs there, as tantalizing as the full moon.  So close
you can touch it, taste it, feel it's texture."  The Nightcrawler's
words echoed oddly, distorted, malevolent in the large room as they
poured out of the small radio.  The man working, carefully on a ladder
leaning against a concrete pillar, laughed.  It echoed back to him
from all around, a cacophony of mad sounds.
        "You got it," the man whispered.  His eyes were odd, full of
gleaming madness.  His hair was unkempt, straggling down around his
shoulders. His patchy stubble, peppered with gray, accentuated his air
of carelessness for anything beyond his goal.
        He carefully scraped at the paint he'd put on the day before,
making sure it looked as worn as the rest of the paint on the column.
Finally he rubbed dirt into it, and scrutinized his handiwork.  No one
would ever see his little additions from a distance in the dark
cavernous room.  They'd be too busy to see, anyway.  Cops.  They only
saw what you put right under their noses.  Stupid cops who took away
everything.  Well, there was change coming, all right.  He'd seen to
that.  Big changes.  They would pay for what they'd done.  They'd
taken everything from him, and he would take everything from them.
        He laughed again and hauled the ladder away.  Everything was
ready.  All he had to do now was call those dumb cops who thought he
was their snitch.  He could hardly wait.  Change was coming, he was
seeing to that...

        "The air is crisp with the scent of new leaves, new life.  Yet
that is not the change coming, is it?"  The words were tinged with an
edge of menace, as if dipped in vitriol.  "Something much more
personal, something that will change who you are, what you are.  It is
inevitable..."
        Nick listened to LaCroix' words glide through the air with an
annoyed look wrinkling his brow, as he drove to work.  LaCroix was
once again telling him, in his typical oblique way, that it was time to
move on.  Time to leave his mortal life.  Nick was getting tired of
the theme.  It was something LaCroix had been dwelling on with an
indulgence bordering near obsession.  He turned off the radio.  He
wasn't going anywhere.  Nothing was going to tear him from this life.
Nothing...

        "...inevitable, because time does not stand still.  It never
has, and it never will.  It has been said the only immutable thing in
life is change itself.  So why do you cling so tightly to this life?
Why do you not embrace the change and....move on?"
        Natalie looked into some middle distance as she sipped her
cappuccino.  Unknowingly, she tapped her foot in an impatient
syncopation as she listened to LaCroix dispensing his nightly barbs
for Nick's benefit.  Her lips compressed into a thin line as she
listened to his sibilant suggestion that Nick move on, go back to
LaCroix, she supposed.  That was his ultimate goal, to tear Nick from
his mortal leanings and longings, mold him as clay to LaCroix' version
of reality.
        "Damn," Natalie said as she put her cup down with unnecessary
force.  She had taken up listening to his diatribe when she realized
how much it affected Nick.  It typically gave her a good idea what
kind of mood Nick would be in and what was bothering him.  It made it
much simpler to prepare an antidote for the nightly venom.  But
LaCroix was becoming bolder and bolder in his suggestions Nick
move on; it was the one thing Natalie truly feared Nick might do.
Move on... Change was inevitable and if she couldn't cure him, he
would...move on.
        Change.
        How could she stop time from flowing forward?
        Change.
        She still had a few things LaCroix didn't know about in her
ammunition supply, things that would really change Nick's and her
reality.  Love might not conquer all, but it sure came close.  It had
circumvented time once before, maybe it would again...

        Schanke struggled to get the lug nuts off, swearing.  From the
car radio (which was broken and stuck on that stupid Nightcrawler
station) he could hear the Nightcrawler himself whining about change.
If he wasn't so busy trying to get the damn tire off, he'd shoot the
damn radio.  Yeah.  Right.  Change.  The only change coming was that
he was doomed.  Cohen would kill him for being late.  And he was
definitely going to be late...

        Arthur watched as LaCroix flipped off the microphone and
smiled to himself.  He looked quite pleased with tonight's monologue.
Yes, Arthur thought to himself as he scratched Rolly's ear, there
would be change.  It just wasn't quite what any of them expected.  Not
at all...



Chapter 1

Revenge is foul and most unnatural murder.
  -- Hamlet, Scene V

        Nick rubbed his finger along his eyebrow as he stared at the
information currently being displayed from the Provincial Penal System
database.  It informed him blandly that William Samuel Loeffler had
been paroled almost four months ago, two years early for good
behavior.  He had reported each and every week to his parole officer
as required, and his behavior had been exemplary.
        "In a pig's eye," Nick murmured under his breath.  Loeffler,
currently, held the top spot in Nick's mind for the murder of Kevin
Brandt.  They'd found Kevin the previous night in a culvert under a
freeway overpass.  He'd been shot at close range with a shotgun.  Only
the fact that Kevin's fingerprints were on file had allowed them to
quickly identify him.
        Loeffler, according to the database, had been serving seven to
ten years for manslaughter.  He had been the wheelman for a robbery
heist five years ago.  A heist that had made off with $320,460.00 that
had never been found.  Loeffler and his partners Joey Talbot and Kevin
Brandt had fallen out shortly afterward.  No surprise really.  Greed
does that, Nick thought ironically, remembering what his own greed had
led him to do in what he mentally labeled his 'wicked period'.
        Loeffler had killed Joey Talbot five years ago, and with
incredibly bad luck, chose to do it in a bar where an undercover vice
officer had been doing surveillance.  The other suspect, Kevin Brandt,
had never been prosecuted because of lack of evidence.
        William went to jail, Joey went to a peaceful 3x6x9 resting
place, and Kevin had since vanished, along with the money.
        William had not wasted any time at all in working off his
feelings of injustice, once paroled.  Only four months to find and
vent his frustration on his former partner.  Not bad at all...
        And now, not one day later, three twenty dollar bills had shown
up.  "Somehow," Nick said, "I don't think this is a coincidence."
        "What's not a coincidence?" Schanke asked as he dropped his
bulk heavily onto his chair.  It groaned under the weight.
        Nick looked up and pointedly stared at his watch.
        "Yeah, I know, I'm late.  But let's just keep it between you
and me.  It's not like I planned it, Knight.  Myra took the car to the
grocery store, and on the way home, she picked up a nail.  That tire was
flatter than a pancake when I went out to come to work.  Flat, flat,
flat!  The lug nuts must have been tightened up by one of those
pneumatic wrenches when I had it serviced last, because I could *not*
get them off.  I had to borrow my neighbor's electronic gizmo, and by
the time I did..."
        "You were late," Nick said.  "Cohen's already been by."
        Schanke rolled his eyes.  "Man, I can't believe it.  The one
night.  The only night..."
        "Schanke," Cohen said from behind his right shoulder.  "You
are forty-five minutes late.  Along with the time you've missed this
last month, I suggest you do a make-up shift on Saturday."
        Schanke winced and twisted around in his seat to meet Cohen's
steady gaze.  The argument on his lips died.  "Yeah, Saturday," he
said as Cohen nodded shortly and left.
        Schanke rolled his eyes and then leaned his head in his hands.
"Myra's gonna kill me.  We're supposed to be going to a big family
party on Saturday."
        "You don't strike me as being all that upset, Schank," Nick
said watching Schanke closely.
        Schanke shrugged and grinned ruefully at being read so
easily.  "I really hate those parties, I admit it.  But I was trying
to do this right.  Myra's been complaining that I'm never there for
her.  I'm always working.  What does she think I'm working for?  No,
make that who."
        "Whom," Nick corrected, "and I don't think she's thinking
about the mortgage payments, Schank," Nick said with a smile.
        Schanke shook his head.  "Women.  I can never figure them
out."
        "And you probably shouldn't try.  They're more interesting
that way."
        "More frustrating, annoying, and..."
        "Mysterious," Nick finished.
        Schanke narrowed his eyes and focused his gaze on
Nick. "What mysterious woman might we be talking about, here?
Natalie?  Or that finished piece of marble at the Raven?"
        Nick smiled.  "Who said I was talking about anyone in
particular?"
        "Oh, if I know you, partner, and I do, one of them has
obviously been leading you a mysterious, but enjoyable, dance."
        "HA! That's what you know!" Nick said with a laugh.
        "Methinks you do protest way too much..."
        The phone rang, interrupting the escalating argument.  "Just
hold that thought, Knight," Schanke said as he picked up the phone.
"Detective Schanke."
        He listened for a moment, and then looked at Nick with a
distinctly appalled look.  "Yeah, right.  We're rolling."
        He put the phone down carefully and looked at Nick.  "We have
a double homicide.  They just found a patrol car outside an abandoned
building over on Dundas.  The officers missed their last two
check-ins.  The patrol that found the car called for backup and
searched the building.  They found them in the basement; both are dead
from *multiple* gunshots.  They were cut to pieces, Nick, and
apparently there is a message scribbled on the wall in blood, 'I'll
get all of you,' or something like that."  Schanke looked at Nick.
"Somebody is hunting cops."
        Nick looked at Schanke's white face.  It was a cop's worst
nightmare.  And Nick's...  There was prickling in his spine at the
thought.   Nick had been hunted several times in his long life.  It
usually brought out the worst in him, especially when cornered.
Vampires take it very personally when hunted.
        Nick shook away his dark, brooding thoughts and saw Schanke
was caught up in his own unpleasant memories.  Schanke had been a
target, too, not so very long ago.  Nick had hidden Schanke at the
Raven after his motel room had been blown into tiny pieces, and
Schanke had barely escaped with his life.
        Schanke, Nick recalled, wasn't any good at hiding either.  He'd
gone after his assailant and by sheer luck, and Nick's timely arrival,
had survived.
        Nick hated hunters.  They were usually obsessive, compulsive
and totally irrational in the pursuit of their goal.  Nick and
Schanke's eyes met and locked in complete understanding.
        "Then I guess we'd better get over there and figure out who is
doing this and stop them before they kill again," Nick said quietly
        "Yeah," Schanke said as he stood and followed Nick out of the
precinct in a somber mood.

        Nick pulled the Caddy up next to one of at least a dozen
police cars at the abandoned Smythe building at 1823 Dundas Street.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen this many police cars in
the same place.  He already knew he didn't like it.
        Schanke was out of the car before Nick even had a chance to
kill the motor, and bounding towards the building with his coat
billowing behind him.  Nick followed more slowly, surveying the
surroundings.  There were warehouses to the left and across the
street, and an older building with no sign of life to the right.  Not
much chance of a witness.
        There were eight patrol cars, three plain police cars, (not
counting the Caddy), the Coroner's van, and Natalie's Taurus.  He
doubted she had arrived much before they had.  There was also, he
noted grimly, a News van, too.  How the hell, he thought, did they
get here so fast?
        The atmosphere was somber in the red and blue glare of
multiple flashing lights.  On the corner, two homeless men watched,
shading their eyes with their hands.
        "Knight!  Get a move on!" Schanke bellowed from the doorway of
the building where an officer stood guard.  Nick mentally filed his
observations and joined Schanke.
        "Apparently this building is supposed to be condemned,"
Schanke said grimly.  "It's not the safest place to be.  So no one is
supposed to go in here alone.  We're on the buddy system."
        Nick nodded.  "Okay, let's get in and get out, as quickly as
possible.  No sense anyone else losing their life here."
        Schanke let out his breathe, as if he'd been holding it.  His
face looked pasty in the glare of lights.  "I don't like this," he
muttered as he ducked through the doorway.  He hated enclosed spaces.
Ever since they had gone underground to find the crazy guy with his
personal flame-thrower, Don had felt a little claustrophobic in dark,
enclosed places.  His throat felt tight and dry as dust, but he was
damned if he was going to let Nick know about his little problem.  He
forged down the hallway, marked by dimly lit flares.
        "Follow the yellow-brick road...," Schanke muttered, "no...make
that more like the ominous red flares.  Lions and tigers and flares,
oh my."
        "What?" Nick asked, knowing what he'd heard, but not believing
he'd heard Schanke say it.
        "Nothing, Knight, nothing," Schanke said over his shoulder.
        Nick smiled, amused at the bizarre visions it brought to mind.
        The building was cold and dank, and smelled of dead and
rotting vermin.  Like an ill-omen, the odor followed after them.  The
walls they passed were crumbling and water-stained.  The floor groaned
under them as they walked down the hallway.  Nick followed Schanke
closely, searching the darkness with his "night vision" as they moved
further into the interior, not liking the situation at all.  Maybe Oz
wasn't so far off the mark, but his personal inclination was towards
Dante's Inferno.
        "Quinci non passa mai anima buona...(no good soul ever takes
its passage here)" Nick murmured quietly, and then added ominously,
"intrai per lo cammino alto e silvestro (I entered on the steep and
savage path)*."  He felt a shiver ripple down his back, and hoped his
words were not an omen.
     The flares marked the central stairwell that descended into the
basement.  It seemed to be a yawning black pit, lit by the red fires
of hell to Nick's suddenly fertile imagination.  He glanced at Schanke
and wondered what he was thinking.  At least this area seemed more
stable.  The reinforced concrete stairwell, Nick surmised, was
probably supporting the building.  He hoped.
        Their footsteps reverberated loudly as they descended into the
basement.  As they exited the stairwell, they could hear voices
resonating oddly around them.  Except for an occasional word, it was
unintelligible.  They followed the flares into a cavernous room with
pillars spaced every twenty or thirty feet.  In some areas, the
ceiling had caved in.  Spotlights illuminated the far northeast corner
of the room where fourteen or fifteen people were milling about,
uselessly, in Nick's estimation.
        Nick could see Natalie's burnished hair glinting as she knelt
beside one of the victims.  Her voice suddenly could be heard clearly
among the echoing chatter.
        "..somebody knew what they were doing, these officers were cut
to pieces...," Natalie said to an officer bending over beside her.
The rest of the sentence was lost in the odd acoustics.
        Even as they entered the room, Nick was assaulted by the
coppery scent permeating the room.  A mist of blood, like a sauna,
enveloped him.  With a barely discernible hesitation in his step, Nick
forced his concentration on Natalie, and grinding his teeth together,
he stopped his fangs from dropping.  He went a little paler, if it was
possible.
        Schanke, glancing over at him, saw the miniscule amount of
color in his partner's face drain away and shook his head.  "Man,
Knight, you are the most squeamish homicide detective I know.  It's
just a little hemoglobin."
        The joking hid his own uneasiness as they walked towards the
battery of lights.  They had to step carefully to avoid the spent
brass that littered the floor.  They picked their way silently and
carefully to a position behind Natalie.  Schanke moved back a bit, to
avoid stepping in the large pool of sticky black blood.  He felt a
little queasy himself.  He liked to tease Nick, because it was the only
discernible weakness in the guy, but this...this was a little tough
even for the most hardened cop.  The bodies were almost severed in
half from the violence of the attack.  They had easily taken 60 or 70
rounds each from a semi-automatic weapon.  Someone had kept shooting
long after they were dead.  Reloaded and kept shooting.
        "Actually," Nick said finally, "it's a lot of blood.  Somebody
wanted to do more than kill these officers, they wanted to make a
statement."  He pointed at the wall as he spoke, and Schanke looked up
from the bodies to the sign scrawled in blood on the wall.
        "'Pigs!  You deserve to die.  I'm gonna get you all!'" Nick
read aloud.  "Well, he's pretty straightforward about his intentions."
        Schanke shook his head.  "Yeah, but why?"
        Nick shrugged.  "He could've been in jail or prison, and just
wanted to get even for getting caught, or maybe he's got some
grievance against the police department.  Who knows?"
        "This does not make me feel good, Knight.  Not.  At.  All.
It's like having your back prickle all the time because you just know
somebody has got a bead on you."
        "No," Nick agreed, "it doesn't feel good."  He paused for a
moment as some particularly pungent blood laden air wafted up his
nose.  He exhaled noticeably, and then looked at Schanke.  "Well, we
are now in charge of this crime scene.  Let's take charge.  You want
to talk to the officers who discovered it or Natalie?"
        "I'll take the officers.  You can take Natalie.  Wouldn't want
you to miss a chance to spend time with your favorite coroner,"
Schanke said smartly.  He'd been doing a lot of suggesting and hinting
lately, hoping Knight would get the idea that Natalie was, he was
sure, just waiting for him to pop the question.  Nick was so dense
that Schanke was just about ready to apply a large dose of electrical
voltage to him to see if that would jump start his libido.  So, even at
a gruesome crime scene, he took whatever opportunities he could.
        Nick gave him a knowing look, but merely nodded and moved over
to where Natalie was now looking at the second body.
        Schanke raised his voice and asked "Okay, who found the
bodies?"  First he wanted to know who the major players were, and then
he wanted to clear the crime scene.  There were too many officers
here.  Yeah, some of their own had died, but it didn't justify the
numbers currently milling around and very probably contaminating
evidence.
        "I did...er, that is, my partner, Office Chase, and I did," a
fresh-faced kid that didn't look old enough to be out of high school,
let alone a cop, said coming over to Schanke.  "I'm Officer Haymis.
Are you the investigating officer?"
        "Yeah, I'm Detective Schanke, and he's Detective Knight,"
Schanke said, jerking his head in Nick's general direction.  "We need
to get some control on this crime scene.  There's too many people here
and too much chance that somebody has touched something.  Who do we
really need here?"
        Nick tuned him out as he knelt by Natalie.  He looked at the
dead officer closely for the first time.  His face was untouched, except
for blood splatters, and the look in his eyes was one of disbelief.
It must have happened very quickly.  His gun was still in his
holster.  He'd never even had a chance to pull it.  So, Nick thought,
they had no suspicion of danger.  Then what brought them down here?
        "Hi, Natalie," Nick said softly.
        Natalie glanced up at Nick and then back down to the body,
where she was carefully taking a sample from the largest jagged wound.
        "Hi, Nick.  This your case?"
        "Yeah, what do you have?" Nick asked.
        "Not a lot, so far, at least that isn't obvious.  Somebody
blasted these guys with enough bullets to put down twenty or thirty
people."
        "I noticed," Nick said softly.
        Natalie, finished with the sample, rocked back on her heels
and took a close look at Nick.  The pallor of his face was
pronounced.  "Are you dealing with this okay?" she asked in concern.
        "Yeah," Nick said shortly.  "The air is a little thick in
here, and it's pushing my control, but if I don't have to stay here
too long, I should be okay."
        "Well, we are about ready to take the final photos, so we
should be able to move the bodies in the next twenty or thirty
minutes.  That ought to help."
        Nick merely nodded.  "So, have you noticed anything unusual?"
        "No, not really, except these guys were not expecting
trouble."
        "Yeah, I thought that myself."
        "So, why were they down here?  This is not the safest place in
the world."
        "Perhaps they had a meet set up," Nick suggested.
        "Maybe.  I can think of better places."
        "Sometimes you don't get a choice."
        "Oh," Natalie said.  "Well, that may be true.  Anyway,
somebody shot these guys with a semi-automatic, at least.  The slugs
were 9mm.  The brass is pretty thick on the floor, in case you hadn't
noticed," Natalie said dryly.
        "I noticed," Nick said.
         "We should be able to positively identify the weapon if you
find it, with this much evidence."
        Nick nodded.  "Okay.  Thanks.  Let me know if you find
anything else interesting."
        Natalie smiled.  "Sure, Nick."
        He stood and looked for Schanke.  It looked like he was deep
in an interview with the officers who'd found the bodies.  Nick turned
and surveyed the room to get a sense of the scene.  The officers had
apparently walked across the open space to this corner--without
concern--and without drawing their weapons.  Perhaps, Nick thought,
they had seen their contact in this corner and walked across to meet
him.  Maybe he'd been hiding the weapon under his coat and pulled it
out and starting shooting as they had arrived.
        On the other hand, they could have been walked here at
gunpoint, Nick decided, possibly ambushed when they arrived.
        He looked at the writing on the wall.  Somebody was angry,
very angry at the police.  But why?  And what else did he have
planned?  This was too stage-managed to be...
        Nick felt the hair on his neck stand out straight.  This was a
set up.  "I'll get you all," Nick quoted softly.  He looked at the
room.  How many cops were here right now?  It would be a good start to
taking out as many cops as he could, by killing everyone in the room.
What better way to bait a trap for the police, than by killing some of
their own?
        He stared intently into the dark, scrutinizing the columns and
walls.  Nothing, nothing, nothing... Nick stopped and stared at the
third column on the left, up at the ceiling.  He walked towards it,
stepping into the quiet darkness, leaving Schanke, Natalie, and
the concentrated activity behind him.
        Nick circled around, approaching his target obliquely.  He
stopped at the base of the column and looked up.  There where it met
the ceiling was a tiny recording device.  It looked like a spy camera,
possibly sending a signal to a remote location.
        Nick felt a chill wash over him, as he looked back at Natalie,
at Schanke, at all the very vulnerable mortals.  The killer was
watching them.
        He walked as unconcernedly as possible back to Schanke, and
tapped him on the shoulder.
        Schanke stopped in mid-sentence.  "Yeah?"
        "We're being watched.  There's a recording device over there,
probably sending a signal to a receiver of some kind.  Something
sophisticated.  What do you know about remote video signals?"
        Schanke looked at him.  "What do you mean, someone is watching
us?"
        "I think the killer is watching, waiting for the moment when
the most officers are in here.  Those two dead officers are bait,
Schank.  This is a trap," Nick said.  "We need to get everybody out of
here, as rapidly as possible."
        Schanke stared at him.  "You sure?"
        "As sure as I can be.  It's a gut call, but that camera is
definitely sending a signal.  Who else would be interested?"
        Schanke shook his head in disbelief.  "What about sound?  Can
he hear us?"
        "I don't know," Nick admitted.  "I couldn't tell.  I don't
know a lot about this kind of stuff.  We need an expert."
        "Jake Castleton," Schanke said suddenly.  "He'd know.  He
works in the sound and imaging lab."
        Nick pulled his cell phone out as Schanke rattled on, and
looked in dismay at the signal reception.  "I'm not getting a signal.
There's some kind of interference..."
        Schanke blinked and pulled his phone out.  "Me, neither.
That's funny, they called out of here earlier, I'm..."
        He trailed off and they looked at each other.
        "Oh boy...," Schanke whispered.
        "I want you to head top-side to warn them and start searching
for the signal," Nick said abruptly.
        "Yeah, maybe we can cut it off," Schanke agreed, sweating
visibly.
        "And I'll start the evacuation.  We don't want to alarm
this guy in any way."
        "What do you suppose he's got planned?" Schanke asked.
        "I don't know, but I'm sure I'm not going to like it" Nick
said, "get going, Schanke."

        Schanke headed off at a trot, yelling at an officer to go with
him, and Nick turned to survey the room.  There were too many damned
people in here.  He grabbed an officer.
        "We need to evacuate the room ASAP.  This is a trap."
        "Wha..??" the officer said in confusion.
        "It's a set up.  Those officers died so they could be bait.
This guy wants to take out more cops," Nick said tightly.  "A lot
more, and this is about as many as he's going to get at one blow.  But
do it discreetly.  Send them out a few at a time, if possible."
        The officer nodded and moved off.
        Nick headed for Natalie, as quickly as he dared.
        Natalie was consulting with Jerry Birch about moving the
bodies when Nick knelt at her side.  "Nat," he said urgently.  Natalie
waved a hand in his direction as she continued talking.  Nick grabbed
it urgently and jerked on it.
        "Oww.. Nick! What are you do..."
        "Natalie!  Listen," Nick cut her off.  "We've got to evacuate,
this is a trap.  These men were killed to bait a trap."
        Natalie stared at him.  "What do you mean?"
        Jerry Birch stared open-mouthed, glancing back and forth
between and Natalie and Detective Knight, as Nick pointed at the sign.
"He wants to kill as many police as possible.  Nat, there's a camera
back there that is sending out a signal.  He's watching, and I think
he's going to try and kill as many as he can.  These men will have to
wait until we can secure the area, now let's go."
        Nick pulled Natalie to her feet, almost roughly in his fear.
Jerry stared up at them and asked, "Are you serious?"
        Nick looked at him, "Dead serious, Jerry; get out of here
now."
        Natalie grabbed her bag and without further hesitation said,
"Let's go, Nick."  She recognized the look on his face and knew he was
scared.  Not for himself, but for her, for all of them.
        The officer Nick had warned was beginning to make an impact on
the crowd, two officers were a third of the way across the room, and
three more were now moving casually towards the only exit--the central
stairway.
        Nick, with Natalie a half step behind him, began walking
rapidly across the room.  Nick stopped abruptly and looked back
towards the camera as Natalie ran into him.  "Nick?" she asked
uncertainly.
        "No...," Nick whispered as he heard with his preternaturally
acute hearing the sudden ticking of a timer.  He stared hard and
suddenly saw a tiny light now flashing in the dark.  Counting down to
disaster, then he saw another and another and ... another.    Tiny red
markers, counting out the moments of life left.
        They were out of time.
        Nick yelled, "There's a bomb!  RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"
        People stared as he grabbed Natalie and began running, and
then they, too, ran.  The ticking began to blend together as the 15
second timers ran down.  Nick pulled Natalie hard against him and quite
literally turned into a blur as he flew for the exit.
        BOOM!  The sound was deafening as the explosives buried in the
pillars blew.  Screams blended into the horrendous noise as the
building began to collapse.  To those running flat out towards the
stairway, there was no chance.  None at all.  The blast's shock wave
knocked them off their feet as they were shredded by flying debris,
and milliseconds later, they were buried under tons of rubble and
concrete, as the building collapsed.
        Schanke, standing next to a patrol car, talking rapidly on his
cell phone in an effort to get somebody--anybody--there to help with
signal tracking, turned as the blast reached them and the building
crackled and collapsed in seemingly slow motion.  Don Schanke was
blown back against the car and slid down the side as the shock wave
pounded him as it blew past.  The concussive impact of the sound on
his ears deafened him.  And he watched in absolute horror as the
building disappeared into the basement, where thirteen police
officers, his partner, and Natalie Lambert were...
        For twenty or thirty seconds there was only the sound of
collapsing rubble, and then silence.  Absolute and utter silence.  No
one moved, no one said anything.  They just stared.  Several of them
had blown eardrums from the force of the blast and were in shock.
        "Oh, God, please let them be alive!" Schanke pleaded as fear
choked his voice and tears slid down his face.  His disbelief was
mirrored on every single face around him.  Then Don realized he was
still holding his cell phone.  Numbly he called dispatch.
        "We need help here.  The building just blew up.  There are at
least fifteen people in there.  Send the damn fire department, the
paramedics, and the ambulances!"
        "How many?"
        "Send them all, dammit!" Schanke swore and switched it off.
He jumped to his feet and ran towards the pile of rubble that had
recently been a building containing a crime scene and was now a tomb
for the most irritating, obnoxious, annoying partner a man could have,
and he would give anything to have him standing beside him irritating
and annoying him.  Without a doubt, Nick had saved his life when he
sent him out.  Schanke could only hope that somehow he had found a way
to survive this.  Nick had always seemed so indestructible...
        Schanke stood there staring, scanning for any signs of life,
his coat billowing in the cloud of dust and debris rising like hot
angry steam from the area.



Chapter 2

O day untowardly turned!
  -- Much Ado About Nothing Act III, Scene II

        "We have cordoned off the entire block.  Nobody is getting in
or out unless they are part of the rescue effort.  We've got dogs
sniffing for explosives in every single building on this block, and
we're searching them all from top to bottom--including the roofs--for
signal receiving equipment, not to mention people," Harry Russell, head
of Emergency Response and Rescue, informed Commissioner Vetter, who
stood like a black thundercloud staring at the destruction.
         Schanke listened from where he sat a few meters away,
slumped on the hood of the Caddy, exhausted now that the adrenaline
had washed out of his system.  He felt oddly useless since the teams of
rescue workers and an organized hierarchy had arrived to take control.
He knew Russell was much better equipped to do the job, but it didn't
help.  He needed to be doing something.  He *wanted* to help find
Nick, and he *wanted* to do it right now!
        "We also have rescue crews searching the rubble for survivors.
We have rescue dogs working there, too.  Heavy equipment is on the
way, and should be here shortly to help lift debris out of the way.
If anybody is alive, they'll find them," Russell finished.
        Vetter stood with his hands on his hips, his lower lip
belligerently protruding.  "Who was here when it happened?" he
demanded angrily.  Schanke looked up and pushed himself off the Caddy
with a sigh.
        "I was, sir," Schanke said as he plodded wearily over to
Vetter.  Schanke could feel the anger radiating from him, and fought
the impulse to step back.  Vetter eyed him coldly.
        "Why the hell didn't someone realize what was going on
sooner?" Vetter demanded.
        Schanke felt anger rise up his throat at this incredibly
stupid question.  "Sir," he said carefully, "this was a set-up.  The
killer was watching the whole time.  His intent was to kill as many
police as possible.  This killer...this mad man...was waiting for the
moment of maximum destruction.  When we realized the situation and
began evacuating, he saw his chance slipping away and he set off the
detonation.  It was too late from the moment the bodies were found."
        Schanke managed to keep his temper from igniting, but it was
tough.  Vetter had been out of the field too long, and expected it to
be like TV.  He expected impossible miracles.  They stared at each
other, without blinking, anger fomenting the air between them.
Vetter, suddenly, looked away.
        "I want this man found, Detective, and I WANT him found today!
I expect a task force to be on this immediately!" Vetter barked out
and, turning on his heel, walked away.
        Schanke rocked back on his heels, feeling a moment of victory
in the bleakness of the waning night.  He'd stared down
Mister-know-it-all Commissioner Vetter, thank-you-very-much.  "Truth
will win the day," Schanke said softly.
        A brisk breeze fluffed his coat up around him, and sent a
shiver down his spine.  With the breeze came the acrid scent of
explosive residues and concrete dust.  Schanke's shoulders slumped as
he turned around to face the giant lights that lit up the debris field
and men and dogs crawling across the rubble.
        He stared blankly for a moment, as his mind balked against the
reality before him, and then as his glance settled on the concrete
column still standing where the central stairwell had been, Schanke
reminded himself that there was some hope.  If they had gotten into
the stairwell, if they had gotten up it at all, they might be alive.
The stairwell was built of reinforced concrete, and though the top of
it had collapsed down, Russell was pretty sure that it was partially
intact.  It was possible there might be survivors in there.  They just
had to remove a lot of rubble and break through the concrete to find
out.
        Time was moving fast against them.  The longer people were
under, the less chance there was of finding survivors.  "Please be
alive, Nick," Schanke pleaded, "and I hope to God you've got Natalie
and as many other people as you could in there with you."
        "Detective?"
        Schanke turned to find Russell watching him sympathetically.
"If they're alive, we will find them."
        "I know," Schanke said softly, feeling tears rising.
         A tall lanky man in a hard hat approached them, looking at
Russell in his bright orange jacket.
        "Are you Harry Russell?" he asked.
        "Yeah?"
        "They said you were in charge.  The crane will be here in
about five more minutes.  We need some help clearing out part of the
parking lot to set it up."
        "Yeah, Russell said, "I'm in charge.  Let's get this
organized."  He looked around and grabbed the nearest officer.
Schanke saw it was Officer Haymis, the fresh-faced kid he'd grabbed as
his buddy when he'd come out of the basement.  "Officer," Russell said,
getting his attention, "would you clear whatever area this man needs
for the crane?"
        Haymis nodded, "Yes, sir," and headed out.  Only as he walked
away, did Schanke realize he didn't have that fresh-faced look
anymore. There had been tears making tracks down his face, cutting a
path through the dirt and dust on his face.  Just like Schanke, he'd
probably lost his partner tonight.
        "Sorry, kid," Schanke said quietly as he walked back and
parked himself once more on the Caddy.  "Maybe we can deal with our
pain after this is over.  When we know for sure.  When we've caught
this bastard."

        The concrete groaned and shifted, and dust sifted through the
air, rippling downward, seeking ground. The darkness was complete,
making every sound more ominous.  Nick coughed dust out of his
lungs and throat as consciousness roared back.  He shook more dust out
of his hair and took stock of the situation.  His hand was caught
between jagged blocks of concrete, and Natalie lay beneath him,
utterly silent.  He smelled the sweet aroma of blood, Natalie's blood.
And then, only then, did he realize he felt pain--or something close
to it--in his crushed hand.  Suddenly the beast flared to life and
gold bubbled up in his eyes, glowing in the darkness.  Nick
caught his breath and instinctively leaned downed against Natalie's
neck and inhaled.  His fangs brushed her neck...
        Gasping, Nick jerked back, away, away from Natalie, as far as
he could with his hand held in a vise of rusted metal and rock.  Their
prison groaned as Nick collided with rubble.  He still lay half across
Natalie.  There wasn't any space to get away from her.  No space...
Nick closed his eyes and struggled against the need for blood to heal,
and finally willed it away.
        Then he touched Natalie with his free hand, and listened
intently.  Only her beating heart and soft breath told him she lived.
He couldn't tell what was wrong with her.  He needed to get his hand
free.  He needed to find out what kind of space they were in.  He
needed to... Nick suddenly realized he was beginning to panic and took
several breaths to calm himself.
        "I can't help Natalie," he murmured, "until I help myself.  I
can only do one thing at a time, and then I can move on.  Just take it
one step at a time."  Nick closed his eyes on the thought and searched
for inner calm to do just that.
        Slowly he shifted himself off of Natalie and slid along side
of her.  He looked around in the dark and examined the bounds of their
prison.  They were in a corner of the stairwell, and the walls in the
corner still held their shape.  A large steel beam had come down, and
held a massive concrete block from collapsing on them.  In the corner,
Nick was sure there was enough head room to sit up, but only in the
corner.  The beam slanted towards the floor by where the exit door for
the first floor ought to be.  But all Nick could see was a mass of
broken concrete blocks and debris.  They had a small triangular cubby
hole about 2 meters long--and that was it.
        He sniffed carefully, and was relieved to detect air flow.  At
least they wouldn't run out of air.  He could survive without it, but
Natalie couldn't.
        He felt blood trickling sluggishly down his arm, and decided
he'd better do something about his hand.  He pulled gently, but there
was no give.  It was trapped between a piece of concrete and a metal
beam embedded in concrete.  Nick reached out with his other hand and
slowly and carefully bent the metal beam back enough that the concrete
gave a little.  He reached out and crushed the concrete to dust and
his hand slipped free.
        Several bones were broken, and the fleshy palm was cut open
cleanly to the bone.  Nick wrapped his handkerchief around it and tied
it off, then he felt the bones carefully and snapped a couple of them
into place, thankful he'd spent enough time as a doctor to know where
they belonged.  His hand begin to heal immediately.  That was good and
bad.  Good that he'd be healed.  Bad because then he would need blood
more than ever.
        Sighing, Nick shifted and sat up and then carefully examined
Natalie.  As far as he could tell, she had no broken bones, but she
had a nasty cut on her head, and a bruise was already forming over her
left eye.
        "Concussion," Nick murmured, "and a head wound.  Could be
worse."  He realized he had nothing to bandage her head with, and was
about to take his shirt off when he realized he might have a better
alternative.  "Sorry, Nat," Nick said softly as he pulled her skirt up
and ripped the bottom of her slip off.  It was softer and probably
cleaner than his shirt.
        Carefully he bandaged her head wound and then he pulled her
head up into his lap, elevating it slightly.  He hoped that would be
enough.  He also hoped she would wake up soon.  He'd rather have her
awake with a pounding headache, than in a coma from bruising and
swelling of the brain.
        Natalie suddenly coughed, and her eyes fluttered open.  She
gagged as dust filtered down onto her.  Nick breathed a sigh of
relief.
        "Nat?  Are you okay?" he asked anxiously.
        "Ooooo..."
        "Nat?"
        "My head...," Natalie moaned as she put a hand up to feel it.
        "You've got a concussion," Nick informed her, "you need to lie
still."
        Natalie gasped as her hand came away sticky with blood.  "I'm
bleeding..."
        "I know," Nick said, carefully keeping his voice neutral, as
he swallowed down his desire.  "Nat..."
        "I feel sick...," Natalie moaned.  "Wha..what happened? Why is
it so dark in here?"  Natalie tried to sit up, and Nick stopped her.
        "Nick!"
        "Natalie," Nick said patiently, "don't sit up, there isn't
room."
        "Where are we?" Natalie asked, her voice suddenly small and
uncertain.
        "We're in the stairwell, on the main floor, in a tiny little
pocket that's about two meters long and at the tallest, a half meter.
The building blew up."
        "Oh...it what?" Natalie asked confused.  "What are you talking
about?"
        "Don't you remember, the basement, the dead police officers,
the camera, and trying to evacuate?"
        Natalie was silent, trying to think through a pounding
headache.  "Sort of.  It all seems kind of hazy."
        "I'm not surprised, the shock wave and the sound were pretty
overwhelming.  It even knocked me out," Nick looked at his watch, "for
over forty minutes, which is really unusual."
        "Nick...," Natalie said hesitantly.
        "Yeah?"
        "Does anybody know we are alive?  Does anybody know we are
here?"
        "I don't know.  I sent Schanke out to try and intercept the
signal, but whether they'll think anybody is still alive?  I don't
know.  I'm sure they'll be looking, but it's going to take some time."
        Natalie started to shiver as shock took over.
        "Natalie, are you okay?"
        "Yes, umm, no.  I think I'm going into shock.  Maybe."
        Nick carefully pulled his coat off, and tucked it around her.
"I'm sorry, but that's all I've got..."
        "Nick?" Natalie asked, as Nick trailed off and his hands
stilled on her shoulders.
        "DAMN!" Nick said as he abruptly rummaged through the pockets
of the jacket.
        "What?"
        "I forgot about my cell phone."
        "What?" Nat asked again, confused.
        "The cell phone, maybe it's still working," Nick said
excitedly.
        Natalie listened as he opened it up.  A faint green glow lit the
tiny space.
        "Yes!" Nick whispered.  "It's working."
        "Thank God!" Natalie said and touched his arm hopefully.
        Nick dialed Schanke and listened to the phone ring.  The
signal was good, despite the rubble around them.
        "Schanke," Don said in clipped, angry tones.
        "Schanke..." Nick said quietly.
        "......NICK!  NICK??? Is that you?  Where are you?  WHERE THE
HELL ARE YOU?" Schanke shouted
        Nick winced and pulled the phone away from his ear.
        "NICK!  Nick?"
        "Schanke, tone it down, would you?" Nick said as he took
Natalie's hand in his and squeezed gently.  Her hand moved hopefully
in his.
        "Nick, we thought you were dead...why aren't you dead?  I
mean, uh, not that I want you to be dea...hell!  Sorry, I'm a
little over the edge here," Schanke said, totally rattled.  A big smile
lit his face though.  His irritating and annoying partner was still alive!
        "S'okay, Schank," Nick said with a smile. "We understand."
        "WE?  You've got someone with you?  Tell me you've got Natalie
there, Nick and I'll feel a little less like the world ended."
        "I've got Natalie, Schanke, but that's all.  I don't know
about anyone else.  I don't think anyone else had made it into the
stairwell when it went off."
        "Oh, my God!" Schanke said, and closed his eyes.  He was
totally unaware of the people crowding around him, listening, hoping,
praying for any kind of news.
        "Listen, Schanke, Natalie's got a concussion, and a head
wound.  I think it might still be bleeding, and she's going into
shock.  What kind of rescue effort are you mounting?"
        "Is she going to be okay?" Schanke asked anxiously.
        "Yeah, she'll be okay, but the sooner we get some medical
attention, the better."
        Natalie smiled in the dark as she listened.  Schanke was so
loud, she could hear without even trying.  She held Nick's hand even
more tightly, grateful he was with her.  Without him, she knew she
would be dead.
        "What about you," Schanke asked, as he held his hand out to
stop the questions people were starting to ask.
        "I'm fine.  I've got a couple of bruises, but that's about
all," Nick said.  His hand was already healed.
        "Okay, great," Schanke said.  "Do you have any idea where you
are in the stairwell?"
        "Yeah, in the corner opposite the first floor exit.  We had
almost made it up the stairs when it came down.  That's the good
news.  The bad news is there's a steel I-beam over our heads that is
holding several tons of concrete from coming down on us.  We're in a
space that's about 2 meters long, 1 wide by a half meter high, at the
highest."
        "How can you tell all that?  Isn't it dark in there?" Schanke
asked, the detective's instincts kicking into gear.
        "Yeah, it's pitch black.  But the corner still feels like a
corner and I know where I was when it came down.  And I can still
feel, Schank," Nick said, amused.
        Natalie rolled her eyes at Nick's blatant lie. "Yeah, right,"
she murmured.
        Nick grinned openly at Natalie's understanding.
        "Okay.  That will help.  It gives us a place to start.  We can
still see the stairwell structure, Nick.  It seems to have held up,
sort of.  They have a crane that is..." Schanke looked around, and saw
the truck turning into the parking lot, "...just arriving.  They'll be
getting that set up, pronto, pard.  But that's about the only good
news.  I don't have any idea how long it will take or how many
precautions they'll have to take in lifting the rubble off to get
there.  It's pretty unstable."
        A groan and a crackling sound, as debris settled, underscored
Schanke's remark.  Nick looked up at the I-Beam, and hoped it would
hold.
        "Thanks, Schank.  Listen, since we don't have any idea of how
long we're going to be in here, I think I'd better conserve my
batteries.  It's already down to half.  Why don't we set up some kind
of schedule for checking in?"
        "Yeah, that would probably be good," Schanke agreed.  "How
about every hour.  And if you have some emergency, you can call
in-between, but otherwise we'll keep it to hourly check-ins.  I don't
think they're going to be making much progress for a while, so that
ought to be often enough."
        "Okay.  My watch says...four-thirty-three.  I'll call again at
five-thirty."
        "Okay.  We'll work up a list of questions by then, I'm sure,
about your situation.  Uh, I guess you haven't heard anybody else?"
        Nick was quiet for a moment, listening.  All he heard was
silence.  "No, Schank."
        Both were silent for a moment.
        "All right.  We'll try to get organized, here.  I'll talk to
you in an hour, pard."
        "Okay," Nick said.
        "Uh, Nick?"
        "Yeah?"
        "Thanks."
        "For what?"
        "For saving my life... For sending me out of there, for
figuring it out, for all of it.  I owe you."
        For once Nick had no easy come-back or deflecting remark.  He
hadn't even realized it, until now.  He was glad he'd sent Schanke
out, too.  He would hate to lose his rumpled, garlic-scented,
wise-cracking partner.
        "You're welcome," Nick said simply.  "Just come and get us, and
we'll call it even."
        "You got it," Schanke said fervently.
        Nick powered his cell phone down and closed it.
        "Now," he said softly to Natalie, "they know where to find
us."
        "Any idea how long?" Natalie asked wistfully, wishing there
was a quick way out of here, and a bed she could go crawl into and get
warm.
        "No, but it'll be several hours, I think, maybe longer.
They've got a crane on the scene now, but they're going to be careful
how they lift the debris off of us.  They may have to shore it up to
prevent the rubble from collapsing.  This building is very unstable."
        "Oh..."
        "Nat?"
        "Yes."
        "I'll get you out of here safely.  I promise."  He kissed her
hand softly, gently.
        "I know you will."
        Nick was silent, feeling tears rising.  Until now, he hadn't
really had time to think about their situation.  Not really.  He
hadn't thought about how close Natalie had come to dying, how very
close.  His grip tightened convulsively on her hand and he struggled
to control his emotions.
         While he had been busy, assessing their situation, taking care
of Natalie, he'd been able to hold his feelings in abeyance.  Before
the explosion, there had been no time to think, only time to act, and
react, as fast as possible.  He knew that in his panic, when he'd
realized the building was being detonated, that he'd flown; he'd taken
Natalie in his arms and flown.  He'd flown as fast as he dared with a
mortal.  It hadn't been fast enough.  He would have willingly exposed
his secret to get her out of that building.  He'd failed.  Natalie was
still in danger.  There was still so many things that could go wrong,
and if Natalie died, so would his hope.
        It had not been that long ago that she'd been shot in the
robbery at the jewelry store.  He could still remember exactly how
he'd felt when Schanke had phoned him with the news.  He'd been filled
with so much pain, so much fear.  So many emotions he hadn't known
he'd had.  It had been a defining moment, when he had finally
acknowledged how much she meant to him, not only for what she was
attempting to do for him, but just for who she was.  Natalie.  There
had never been anybody like her in all his life, not in all his
eight-hundred-plus years.
        It had been then, in his desperation and fear, that he had
unearthed the ring from his collection and put it on again.  He was
still wearing it, despite its fragility.  He stared down at it through
the darkness, and wondered why it was such a strong symbol of hope for
him.  It was something he would probably never know, since he could
not remember why or when he had obtained it.  He only knew it was
important.  Maybe it would help him get Natalie out of here.  He hoped
so, he would do anything to save Natalie.
        He kissed her hand again, feeling the texture of her hand
against his lips, feeling her warmth and caring.  Natalie...
        Natalie felt his lips brush her hand, and felt a wave of
feelings sweep across her.  Adrenaline, she told herself.  It's just
adrenaline.  But she knew it wasn't.
        It was his touch.  She needed his touch, longed for it, wished
for it, wanted it, prayed for it, and treasured it.  And yet, day by
day she denied herself because Nick didn't remember.  Only she
remembered what happened so long ago, and yet not so long ago in far
away France.  Her memories haunted her and warmed her.  They were so
painful, yet so joyful.  But they were only memories.  Her memories.
Not Nick's.  Her choice that he didn't remember.
        "Better that way," Natalie murmured unthinkingly.
        "Better what way?" Nick asked as he stroked her hair gently
out of her face.
        Natalie felt heat rise to her face, and hoped Nick wouldn't
notice.  "Nothing.  I was just thinking it was better that we don't
know every move they're making.  It would be so...nerve-wracking.
Nick, I'm not a very patient person.  I hate feeling trapped."
        "Maybe you should rest a bit, that'll help time pass."
        "I've got a concussion, Nick," Natalie said a little
acerbically.
        "I know."
        "I'm not supposed to sleep."
        "You're not supposed to *worry*.  I'm here to observe you.
That's what they do with a concussion, stick you in the hospital and
observe you.  Then they wake you up every couple of hours to make sure
you are okay.  I can do that."
        "Nick..."
        "I don't think it's that bad.  I've had the basic courses,
Nat.  You're not experiencing weakness or numbness.  You're memory is
pretty much intact.  I don't see any of the signs of severe brain
trauma.  So rest a bit."
        Natalie smiled.  "I forgot."
        "Forgot what?"
        "That you were a doctor."
        "It's been a while, you know."
        "For somebody with perfect recall, I don't think it matters."
        "Yeah, well, I don't suppose they still use mustard poultices
to cleanse wounds anymore, so I may be just a little out of date."
        Natalie laughed, as he meant her to.  "That sounds so gross,
Nick."
        "It smelled pretty bad, too."
        "What was it like?" Natalie asked, curious, "the Civil War?"
        Nick stared into the darkness, into the past, and momentarily
lost himself in his memories, remembering...
        "Nick?"
        "...Oh, sorry, Nat, I was just reme..."
        "remembering.  I know, but do you think you can tell me about
it while you do it?" Natalie asked plaintively.
        "It's ancient history, Nat.  Why do you want to know?"
        Natalie was silent for a moment.  "For a lot of reasons, I
guess, it's not everyday you can ask somebody who was there, and get a
first-hand report of history.  Because it's fascinating.  And mostly,
Nick, I suppose it's because *you* were there.  And as a doctor, no
less.  It just fascinates me.  So, c'mon, Nick, tell me.  Besides
it'll help keep me awake, and let me think about something else
besides this headache."
        Nick smiled tenderly at her, even though he knew she couldn't
see him in the dark.  "Okay."  He thought for a moment and then began
to speak.
        "I wasn't involved with the Civil War, at first, at least not
directly.  LaCroix, Janette, and I were making our way out of the
South, because it was obvious war was coming, when we ran across a man
and his son--slaves--trying to escape through the underground
railroad.  LaCroix wanted to kill them, and Janette agreed with him,
but I looked into his face and saw someone fighting for his right to
be free.  Someone just like me.  The only difference was his fight was
because of the color of his skin.  Some slave owner figured he owned
him just as much as LaCroix thinks he owns me."
        Natalie tightened her grip on Nick's hand, but said nothing.
Nick stared down at her hand and then began stroking it with his
other hand, lightly, gently.
        "So I got involved in the railroad for a while.  Off and on.
I did that until the war started, and then I went North for a while.
Mainly so I could avoid the others."
        "The others?" Natalie asked, quietly.
        "Yeah, wars are sort of like a dessert bar for vampires.
They're camp-followers, or perhaps death-followers is a better
description.  During and after any pitched battle that occurs at or
near night, you'll find vampires, taking the lives of those who are
dying or wounded.  It's easy hunting, Nat.  I hated it.  LaCroix used
to love that sort of thing, but I never did.  Maybe because I'd been
wounded in battle, I don't know.  I'm not boring you, am I?" Nick asked
suddenly.
        "No, it's interesting.  Keep going.  When am I ever going to
have you captive again.  This may be my only chance to learn about
your past."
        Nick laughed.  "Well, some of it anyway.  There are parts, you
know, that I really don't care to think about."  Nick sobered.  "Nat,
you know I've done some really terrible things..."
        "Nick...," Natalie said softly, stopping him.  "I know, Nick,
or at least as much as I can, but they are your past, too.  We're all
the sum of the good and bad decisions we make, and somehow, despite
all the evil you may have done, the good still outweighs it.  If it
didn't, you wouldn't be here, you wouldn't be who you are."
        Nick squeezed her hand tightly, and she felt the impression of
his ring acutely as it bit into her hand.
        "Let's stick to the Civil War, okay?"  Nat said.  She spoke a
little sharply, mainly because she was starting to feel sick to her
stomach.  She hoped she wasn't going to throw up on top of everything
else.  She hoped Nick understood.
        Nick snorted softly.  "Okay, the Civil War.  Anyway, I went
North and I was staying near Kewaskum, Wisconsin, and I met this
doctor--which is another story entirely--trust me.  His name was Jacob
Knibbs.  Short summary, I saved his life, and helped nurse him back to
health.  And then I stayed on.  He was very persistent, and before I
knew it, he was teaching me how to be a doctor.  He said I was a
natural, can you imagine that, Nat?"
        "Yes, I can.  I'd love to see you as a doctor."
        "Yeah, well, I might look the part in scrubs, but I could never
pull it off now, not without actually going to med school.  That'd be
a trick, finding a school that would let me go through on night
classes only.
        Natalie snickered.
        "Anyway, Jacob never really recovered fully from his wound,
and he died in the fall of 1862, and I decided that maybe I could make
a difference in the war, for good, so I volunteered.  They made me a
captain, because I was a doctor.  Captain Knight.  That was the last
time I used that name until now.  I've always liked it, you know."
        "I like it, too," Natalie said slowly.  Her eyes were drooping
and she felt weary.
        Nick smoothed her hair back.  "I joined Grant's troops in
December of 1862 at the beginning of the Vicksburg Campaign.  We
suffered heavy losses at Chicasaw Bluffs, because of rifled muskets.
Before the Civil War, muskets were smooth-bored, and people could get
within spitting distance before you'd hit anything, but with rifled
muskets, you can aim accurately up to 250 feet.  They were still
fighting the way they'd fought for centuries, only with modern rifles,
and they dropped like flies.  We didn't take Vicksburg until April."
        "Is it true you would be up to your armpits in blood when you
operated?" Natalie asked, her eyes shut as she listened.
        "Sometimes.  What was worse was there were no antiseptics, no
anesthesia, nothing.  It was like that at Jerusalem, too, at any
battle, any war, in fact, until they discovered ether.  There's no
sound quite like that of a man having a limb removed--being sawn
off--while he's conscious, Nat.  Death was almost preferable.  Modern
medicine is truly wonderful, people have such an incredible chance to
live now, recover more fully when they are seriously injured.
        "Anyway, that was where I started combining what Jacob had
taught me, with my abilities as a vampire.  Now they would call it
alternative medicine, I guess.  I used hypnosis on them, made them
feel none of the pain, made them sleep, and it worked, Nat.  It was
amazing.  I was able to save so many.  For the first time in
centuries, I was doing some good in a war, not causing more death."
        Nick stopped as he realized Nat's breathing had deepened.  She
had fallen asleep.  Slowly he stroked her hair, and stared at her
face, cherishing each moment.  Odd that it would take something like
this to give him a chance to just hold her and care for her.  In a
strange way he was glad they were here.
        Cement shifted above him, and a small rockslide trickled down
as Nick leaned protectively over Natalie.  On the other hand, he hoped
they'd get out of here before it all collapsed.  He checked his watch
and saw he still had twenty minutes before the next check in--forever.



Chapter 3

Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
  -- Much Ado About Nothing, Act IV, Scene I

        Natalie came back to consciousness abruptly as the cement
suddenly shrieked.  Startled, she cried out.
        Nick instantly calmed her with his hand as he completed his
conversation with Schanke.
        "Okay, Schank.  I can hear it, too.  You should hear it from
in here.  Yeah, keep in touch," Nick said and powered the phone
down.
        "Nnnnick?" Natalie gasped, "what was that?"
        "That was the crane moving big chunks of concrete off of us.
Doesn't sound very good, does it?"
        "No.  It scared me to death," Natalie said as she relaxed and
lay her head back down in Nick's lap.  "Any idea how long?"
        "They think three or four hours, but maybe it won't be so
long."
        Natalie licked her lips. Her lips were dry and she was
thirsty.  Knowing there was no water only made it worse.  She tried to
think of something else, anything else, but couldn't.  Water, she
thought.  I want some water.  A sudden groaning and grinding of the
concrete above her distracted her from her thirst.
        "How long was I asleep?" Natalie asked finally, figuring
conversation was better than the fear pounding in her heart.
        "About twenty-five minutes."
        "Oh.  I was hoping I would sleep through this."
        "I could put you out again," Nick suggested.
        "No, I think I'd prefer to know I was going to die rather than
sleep through it."
        "Nat!"
        "Well, wouldn't you?"
        Nick laughed.  "I guess so.  I don't know."
        Silence suddenly filled the space, as the crane momentarily
stopped lifting.  In the quiet, Natalie was acutely aware of Nick's
hand stroking her hair gently, while his other hand held hers.  Nick.
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation.  So often she had
wanted to touch him and had been afraid to, terrified actually.  Nick
tended to keep things pretty casual, as if touch would somehow lead
to...well, danger.
        Just knowing he was here with her, was incredibly comforting.
If she had to die, at least she could be with Nick to the last.  She
rubbed her thumb against his fingers, feeling the strength in his
hand.  She played idly with his ring, feeling its smoothness against
her thumb, and then she realized it was *the* ring, reminding her
once more of her odd, unexplainable journey to another place and
time.  Knowing that in the past they had loved each other was
strangely comforting--even though Nick's memory of it was gone.  She
felt peaceful, despite their circumstances.
        It seemed strange that they could be so completely at peace
together in such dangerous circumstances, when normally things were so
much more difficult between them.  She had never told Nick how she
felt, at least, Natalie amended, not that he could remember.  Oh, he
probably knew.  He hadn't been around 800 years without learning
something, but still, she had never told him due to fear, mostly.
Fear of rejection, fear of acceptance, fear of the truth.  She had
never told him.  And Natalie suddenly decided that maybe it was time.
        So what if he was a vampire, and they could never be lovers
physically?  They couldn't stay where they were any longer, not
really.  She remembered something Nana had told her when she was a
teenager. 'Natasha, you can be friends with a boy--for a time--but
then it must become something more, or something less.  That is just
the way it is.'  She had told her that little piece of sage advice
over Mike Mason.  She and Mike had been friends, growing up together,
and then one day he'd treated her like she was a complete stranger, far
beneath his notice.  She hadn't understood and tried to talk to him.
Mike, like a typical teenage male, had avoided her completely.  In
desperation, she had talked to Nana.  She hadn't liked that piece of
advice, either.  But looking back on it, it had proved true more often
than not.
        And so here she was with Nick at a turning point.  They had
been friends a long time, and then slowly without their even noticing,
they had become something much more than friends.  Love had entered
the equation, along with a deep and abiding trust.  Everything had been
wonderful as they had slowly, but surely inched closer to each other.
And then, something had happened--on Valentine's day--something
important had happened, and unfortunately, Natalie didn't know what it
was.  But Nick had been distant ever since, except for when she'd been
in the hospital.
        For a brief time, it was as it had been before.  But now they
were back to friendly banter, and the gulf was widening.  She knew it,
and he knew it.  If you couldn't be close, then you had to move apart.
Just like Nana had said.  And Natalie didn't like that notion any
better now, than she had when Nana had first dispensed it.
        Maybe, Natalie thought, she should tell him about the ring.
Maybe--maybe not.  No.  Never.  She couldn't hurt him like that.  It
would devastate him to know what had happened, and could never happen
again.  She shied away from thinking about *that*, too, because those
memories were very hard to for her bear, knowing he didn't remember,
and wouldn't *ever* remember.
        But perhaps it was time for some other truths between them,
here in the dark, here in their own personal little world...
        Nick listened to Natalie's breathing, to her heart, felt her
warmth seeping into his thigh where her head rested and longed for
more.  Below the surface, trouble was looming.  He was hungry, and
getting hungrier.  He'd had time to reflect while Natalie had been
asleep, and taken a closer inspection of himself trying to determine
why he had been unconscious for so long.  He'd discovered the back of
his head was matted with dried blood.  More than his hand had been
injured in the explosion.  It explained a lot of things, specifically,
why he'd gone for Natalie.  The head injury had taken a lot of energy
to heal, leaving him dangerously hungry.  He swallowed as he felt the
hunger straining to reach out towards her blood, her strength.
        In the dark, his eyes glittered green-gold briefly, as he
clenched his jaw and struggled with his appetite once again.  The
desire was coming with greater frequency, and he was scared.
        He looked at his watch, only ten minutes had passed since his
conversation with Schanke.  Just great!  Time was at a standstill.  He
needed a diversion.  He needed it now.
        Concrete shrieked again above them.  Both winced.
        Silence.
        "Nick?" Natalie asked.
        "Yeah," Nick said grateful for any diversion, even
conversation, though he would have preferred flying at Mach 4 right
now.
        "I've been thinking," Natalie said slowly, softly.
        "About what?"
        "About you and me..."
        Nick was silent, not sure if this was a good idea.
        "I've been thinking how glad I am that you are here.  That I'm
not here alone in the dark.  I've just realized that if I have to die,
there's no one I'd rather be with at the end, than you."
        "Nat...,"
        "No, Nick, please, let me say this, let me get it out in one
piece.  I'm not going to say this very well, and I need to say it, so
just bear with me.  Please, Nick?"
        Nick exhaled sharply.  After a moment while Natalie waited
anxiously, he said, "All right."
        "Thanks, Nick.  You know, we've spent a lot of time together
over the last few years.  I've listened to you work through a lot of
pain and sorrow.  I probably have a pretty good idea how you feel
about your life, and especially your past.  But in all that time, I
don't think I've ever mentioned how I feel about you.  About you and
me.  And in all that time, I don't think you have either.  It's one
subject we've avoided, for a lot of reasons.  Valid reasons, too.  But
right now, I can't think of one single reason that's valid anymore.
Not one.
        "I *need* to say this, Nick.  I don't know if we are going to
get out of here alive.  I hope we are, but I don't know.  And I don't
want to let this go any longer.  I should have said it long ago, but
you know why I didn't?  I was afraid.  I am afraid.  I'm afraid of my
feelings.
        "I've spent years, decades actually, hiding my feelings.
First from Nana, and then from Mother, and now from you, and from
myself.  I don't want to do that any longer.  I can't, Nick.  I just
can't."
        Nick held her hand and slowly touched it to his lips, but said
nothing.
        Natalie closed her eyes against the dark and felt the
sensuous texture of his lips against her hand.  She inhaled on a
shudder of emotion.
        "I've been a coward all my life.  I hide behind the facade of
Dr. Lambert.  It's a pretty safe place to hide because then everything
is reduced to scientific facts.  But it's a facade.  Underneath,
there's still Natalie.  With all her impossible dreams.  And I dream
for the same things every other woman dreams about.  To be loved and
to love.  To be happy.
        "And you know what?  Until I met you, I had never been truly
happy."
        Nick bowed his head, feeling tears spring unbidden to his
eyes.  He swallowed at the piercing sorrow bursting from his chest at
the joy of her words.
        "I know you think you are evil, and unworthy.  But you're not,
Nick.  You are not.  You've made me happy.  You made me feel special,
and... and unique, and...  beautiful.  I never thought I was beautiful
until you did.  I loved all the little gifts you left for me--for
whatever reason--because they told me someone thought I was special.
And all the times you kissed me on the cheek or the forehead or
stopped by just to say hi.  It meant so much, because nobody else ever
has.
        "I know you are not perfect, Nick.  Believe me, I know."
Natalie laughed at the understatement.  He was at times, despite 800
years of experience, completely and infuriatingly, clueless.  "You
do have your moments, but you've more than made up for it, because
somehow you looked past the facade I put up, that nobody else has ever
seen through.  You looked right past it, and saw me, and liked me,
and...loved me."
        "Natalie," Nick choked out.
        Natalie reached up in the dark and pressed her fingers against
his lips.
        "Shhh.  It's okay."  Natalie felt tears in her own eyes, and
her voice was muted by the emotions welling up inside her.  Funny how
easy it was to say all these things when there was absolute darkness
surrounding them.  Somehow it made the distance between them diminish,
until there was absolutely no distance at all, and heart talked to
heart.
        "Nick...  When I met you, I was fascinated as a scientist, but
I told you the biggest bunch of hogwash I've ever spouted when I told
you that solving the puzzle would be reward enough for me.  Remember
that?  You asked me what was in it for me, and that's what I told
you."  Natalie laughed as she remembered.
        "I lied.  I was attracted to you from the moment I saw you
lying there on my table.  You were so handsome, so damned beautiful,
and I felt so sad you were dead.  And then, you got off that table,
and you weren't dead.  You were so incredibly alive.
        "I don't know when I fell in love with you, exactly.  I just
know that one day, you were more than a good friend, more than the
most fascinating puzzle I'd ever met, and certainly more than a
vampire that I was trying to help find his mortality.  You were my
love."
        Natalie felt Nick shudder against her at the words, and a tear
suddenly splashed on her hand.  If she could see, she knew it would be
red, dark ruby red.  And it didn't matter.
        "I love you, Nick.  For whatever it means, and for as long as
I live.  Whether you stay or you go.  Whether we say the words again
or not.  I just wanted you to know.  Because ever since Valentine's
Day, you've been so distant.  And I don't know why.  Something
happened then, didn't it?  Something important.
        "I know that our genetic differences make a relationship just
a little bit harder than most, but I don't think that's what made you
back away.  I would really appreciate it if you would be honest with
me.  Just for now.  Here in the dark.  If you want, I'll never mention
it again.  But for right now, I don't want to have any secrets, and I
want you to know I love you," Natalie said through a tear-laden voice.
"I.  Love.  You.  All of you, and I don't care what you've done in the
past, because who you are now is the sum of everything you've been.
And that man, Nick, is who I love.  He's honest, and caring, and
trying to be the best he can, no matter what.  Despite everything, and
that includes the vampire, and LaCroix, and anything else you want to
roll into it."
        Natalie moved restlessly against Nick, suddenly feeling scared
at all the honesty, scared, relieved, and hopeful.  "Thank you for
being here in my life, Nick."  She swallowed down her tears, "I don't
want to imagine what my life would have been without you.
        "When I was in the hospital, and I woke up.  You were there at
my side, and the look on your face, Nick, was the most wonderful gift
I've ever had.  I knew at that moment that you loved me.  You might
never say it, but I knew."  Natalie paused for a moment.
        "I just needed to tell you.  I'm only sorry that it took a
mad-man, a building blowing up around us, and," she paused as the
cement around them groaned again and dirt fell in a cascade over them,
"the fear that they might kill us in the rescue process, to get me to
say it.  I've never been very good at letting anyone in, or letting
anything out."
        Nick was trembling with emotions that raged through him.  He
had never imagined that God would send such a gift into his wasted,
stunted, evil life.  Never.
        "Oh, God, Natalie," Nick said thickly.  "I don't know what
I've ever done to deserve you."
        Natalie smiled in the dark, and Nick looking at her through
the luminous black, thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful.
        "Maybe, Nick, it wasn't you that was being rewarded," she
teased, "maybe you were a gift to me."
        Nick laughed through the lump in his throat.  "Maybe," he
agreed as he kissed her hand, and then each finger one by one.  Then
he turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand.
        Natalie inhaled sharply, as her insides turned to jello.
        "Nat, you're right, you know.  About me.  About Valentine's
Day.  Something did happen, and it still scares me.  I have kept my
distance.  I'm sorry."
        "So what did happen?" Natalie asked slowly.
        "LaCroix, happened," Nick said grimly.  "You don't remember,
because he reached into your mind, past all your defenses to find out
what he wanted to know.  When I got there, you were literally in a
dream state.  He's incredibly powerful."
        "I *met* LaCroix?  Ohmi... Wait, when you got there...got
where, Nick?  I think you left some stuff out."
        "Sorry, Nat. LaCroix deceived you into believing I asked you
to meet me for dinner at Azure.  You went and found him waiting
instead.  When I got there, he was about to take your life," Nick
grimaced as he remembered.
        "We fought.  Then we argued.  He accused me of being in love
with a mortal.  With you."  Nick nuzzled her hand as he spoke.  "He
was right.  I was in love, and he knew it, damn him.  So I bluffed.  I
told him I didn't love you, but that you were helping me, that you
loved me, and if it would help, then I would humor you."
        Natalie listened, astonished at his candor, and a little angry
and hurt by his revelations.  She couldn't help thinking--rather
ironically--they ought to spend more time in the dark, it certainly
was enlightening.
        "Anyway," Nick continued, "he called my bluff and ordered me
to bring you across, leaving me only two choices, do as he said, or
kill you.  If I didn't he would..."
        Nick fell silent, seemingly unwilling to continue.
        "Why would LaCroix force you to do that, Nick.  He doesn't do
things without a reason," Natalie asked finally.
        "I owed him for Fleur--my sister--I stopped him from bringing
her across.  He's never forgiven me for that, and he demanded
retribution.  If I ever truly loved a mortal..."
        "And I'm it.  Just great!" Natalie said grimly, angry.  "So
why am I still alive, Nick?"
        "Because I pulled you out of that damn chair and let the
vampire free.  I was about to take you, when LaCroix stopped me.  He
said that I couldn't possibly love you, or I'd never bring you across.
And he wouldn't trade Fleur for that.
        Nick was quiet, and Natalie scarcely dared to breath. "And
what would you have done, Nick?" she asked
        "I don't know," Nick said almost inaudibly. "I couldn't bear
to let you die, and I couldn't bear to have you be cursed like I am,
to live in the dark, in the shadows."  Nick laughed bitterly.  "And I
don't think LaCroix was fooled.  I think he knows I love you, and he
feels this is a better, more fitting punishment.  To let me suffer,
unable to be near you.  To bring me to the brink of destruction and
pull me back.  So I've kept my distance.  I've stayed away.  And I
took your memories of that night from you.  He left you in a state
where I could, so I did, because I didn't want you to suffer and to
live with that fear.
        "And I was wrong.  You deserve to know.
        "Why you should love a vampire, a creature of evil, someone
who has killed and reveled in it, I don't know.  But you do.  I love
you, and I would do anything to make you happy.  Anything.  Including
giving you up. I don't deserve you, but I'm glad for everything you
give me.  I can't give you a home or family.  I can't give you any of
the things you deserve, and it hurts.  I can't do anything about it."
He paused, "And you know I can't, not without endangering your life.
Forgive me, Nat," Nick whispered.  As he finished, his voice was
hoarse with emotions, and he began to weep.
        "Nick," Natalie said softly, "don't.  Shhh.  Don't you know?
You're my knight in shining armor, if you'll excuse the pun."
        Nick laughed through his tears at that, as Natalie wanted him
to.
        "Okay, maybe the armor needs a little polishing, but that's
all right.  I'm not looking for Dudley DoRight, you know."  She
reached up in the darkness, fumbling with her fingers along the
contour of his face, gently caressing his face.
        The I-Beam above them suddenly whined and slid a little.  Nick
hunched over Natalie protecting her.  They waited as debris rained
down, but the beam held.
        Natalie clutched convulsively at Nick in her fear, and then
said slowly.  "I wouldn't worry about what we can't have, Nick.  I'm
just grateful for what we've had.  Let's not worry about the future.
This is enough for now, believe me."
        Nick feeling drained from the emotional outburst, could only
agree.  He leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead.



Chapter 4

O woe is me! T'have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
  -- Hamlet, Act III, Scene I

        Somewhere water was dripping.  Slowly, steadily it fell with
monotonous regularity; a comforting sound in the darkness.  Natalie,
her head resting against Nick's thigh, stirred restlessly, searching
for a more comfortable position.  A rock grated beneath her, harshly
breaking the water's quiet rhythm.
        "Natalie," Nick said softly, "Are you okay?"  His hand stroked
her face gently, comfortingly.
        Natalie took strength from his soft touch, from his relative
warmth in comparison to the cold cement and broken rubble.  "Yes,"
she said, "I'm okay."  She felt his hand on her forehead, probing
gently.  "Ouch!" she cried involuntarily, as he touched the tender
bruise.
        "I'm sorry, Nat, I didn't mean to hurt you," Nick said
swiftly.
        "It's okay," Natalie sighed, as her hand tangled with his,
trying to feel the damage.  "I bet I have a huge bruise tomorrow, and
it'll be purple."
        "Actually," Nick said, a smile in is voice, "it already is."
        "Oh, great, just great," Natalie said tiredly.
        "Are you warm enough?" Nick asked, concerned.
        "Warm enough, for now," Natalie said, "but I can feel the
chill of the cement starting to creep into my bones, and on top of the
concussion, and the blood loss, it's not helping."
        Nick began to move around, disturbing Natalie as she lay with
her head in his lap.
        "What are you doing, Nick?" she asked, sending the question
into the bleak darkness.
        Stillness filled the void.  "Taking off my shirt," Nick said
after a hesitation, "to help keep you warm."
        "Nick, I've already got your jacket," Natalie protested, laying
a hand against him.  She gasped involuntarily as her hand connected
with his bare chest.
        "Nat?" Nick asked as she pulled back.
        "Sorry," Natalie mumbled, feeling heat in her cheeks from the
unexpected contact.  She was used to touching Nick as part of her
medical examinations, but this unexpected touch was somehow so
intimate, after their soul-baring conversation, that she blushed in the
dark.  The concussion must have affected her more than she realized.
Or the conversation...  She shivered as she suddenly realized how much
they had said, how much they had admitted to.
        Nick picked her up and pulled her closer and hugged her to
him.  "It's okay, Nat.  Just let me keep you warm."
        Natalie shifted in his embrace, suddenly tired and
frightened.  "How long?" she asked softly.
        Nick looked at his watch with ease through the inky blackness,
which Natalie couldn't penetrate.  "Forty-five minutes," he said.
"Fifteen more to go before I make contact again."
        Natalie shivered, but whether from cold or fear, she didn't
know.  Nick held her tightly for a moment, giving what comfort he
could, then finished taking off his shirt.  Gently he removed his coat
and wrapped the shirt around her, then he carefully pulled his jacket
back over her shoulders.  He pulled her farther off the floor and onto
his lap, and settled her securely against him.  Natalie curved herself
against him with natural simplicity and sighed.  She wished she could
savor the intimacy of the moment, the feel of his flesh beneath her,
but her head hurt so much, and it was getting worse.  Someone was
wielding a hammer insider her skull, pounding away vigorously, she was
sure.  It hurt so much.
        She was so tired and her eyes refused to stay open.  Despite
the precariousness of their situation, she felt safe in his arms.
Safe.  "Nick," she said, "If I fall asleep, wake me up in two hours."
        "Okay," Nick said, his lips against her hair.  He held her in
the darkness, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her warmth against
him.  Her breathing slowed, and Natalie slipped into an uneasy sleep.
        They were okay for now, *she* was okay for now, but if help
didn't arrive soon, Nick didn't know what he would do.  A tremor of
fear at the thought made him shiver as he sat there in the utter
darkness holding Natalie, his love, the most precious thing in his
life, waiting and hoping for help.
        Reflection on their plight didn't help, either.  There was
nothing he could do, and no way he could have prevented it.  No one
had seen it coming.  No one...
        Natalie moved restlessly in his arms, muttering to herself.
        "Nat?" he asked softly, but there was no answer.  She was
talking in her sleep.  He held her close and listened to the sound of
rescue creeping closer and hoped it would be soon.
        He looked at his watch and saw it was time to check in.
Holding Natalie carefully in one arm, he flipped his phone open and
powered up.  Trying not to disturb Natalie, he dialed Schanke.
        It only took half a ring before Schanke answered.
        "Nick?  That you?" Schanke asked, hopefully.
        "Yeah, it's me.  Tell me you've got good news."
        "Actually, I do.  It's coming along faster than they
originally figured, and the stairwell is more stable than they
thought.  Russell figures they'll break through in an hour, give or
take a bit," Schanke said cheerfully.  He was feeling cheerful,
because at last, he had something positive to say about this
situation.  They just might get them out of there.  Alive.  Something
he wouldn't have bet on two hours ago.
        "Thanks, Schanke," Nick said.  The exhaustion he felt, crept
into his voice, and Schanke heard it.
        "How you holding up, pard?"
        Nick took a deep breath, and let it out, realizing he was
starting to feel shaky.  "Okay, but it's getting harder.  Nat's
getting cold, and right now she's asleep.  But the sooner we get her
out of here, the better."
        "What about you?"
        Nick thought about what he could say for a brief second, and
settled for something noncommittal, "I've been better, Schanke.
There's a certain amount of stress you feel when a few tons of cement
start shifting overhead."  It was better than mentioning that he was a
few quarts low and struggling with the desire to snack on Natalie.
        "Is it because of the removal work?" Schanke asked, concerned.
        "Some of it," Nick admitted, "but some is just gravity.  This
beam above us has been slipping a bit.  My head space is shrinking,
Schanke, and it wasn't very big to begin with."
        Schanke looked over at the crane where they were carefully
pulling a large slab away, with narrowed eyes, trying to determine if
they should slow down or speed up.
        "Dammit, Nick!  Why didn't you call and tell me this earlier?"
Schanke demanded.  "Do you think we need to back off?  Is it in danger
of collapse?"
        Nick listened to Schanke's fears overflow, and smiled to
himself.  "Schank," he interrupted.
        "What?"
        "Don't slow down, faster is better.  This place isn't going to
last forever, and neither is Natalie.  She needs treatment, she needs
water, and she needs to be warm.  So just get here."
        Schanke was distracted momentarily as Officer Haymis handed
him a souvlaki.  He stared at it, and realized that he'd be going nuts
if he was without food and water.  He took a bite, and relished it.
        "Schanke?" Nick asked, hearing nothing on the phone but
something that sounded like...chewing.
        "Sorry, Nick.  I was just thinking.  I didn't think about you
not having water.  The rescue team is hurrying.  If you notice
anything start to give at all, though, you call, you hear?"
        "I hear.  Sorry about that, but things have been a little
intense," Nick admitted.
        "Intense?  How, intense?" Schanke asked, concerned.
        "Nothing to worry about, Schank.  It's just that Nat has been
scared, and the conversation got a little deep.  Okay?"
        Schanke thought a bit, and then a big smile crossed his face.
Maybe there was some good coming out of this.  Maybe those two had
started talking.  Maybe.
        "You didn't happen to propose or anything, did you?" Schanke
asked, hopefully.
        "No, Schank.  We're a little more worried about just staying
alive," Nick said dryly.
        "Oh, sorry."
        "Which reminds me, Schank.  My watch says it's eleven a.m.
That right?"
        "Yeah, it is," Schanke agreed checking his watch.
        "If you are going to break this cell open in the daylight, I
ought to remind you about my allergy.  You need to make sure that I
can get out of here without spending a lot of time in direct sunlight.
I don't need to implode on top of being blown-up, Schank," Nick said.
        He really didn't relish the thought of going up in smoke in
front of Schanke, the police department, and all the news cameras.  It
would really not be a very good idea.
        "Oh..., I forgot about that.  Let me see what I can work out,
Nick.  We were too busy just thinking about getting to you, to think
about your other problems."
        "Yeah, well, me, too.  It's been a hell of a night, hasn't it?"
Nick asked tiredly.  Natalie's blood was like a siren song, and her
pulse beating against his bare chest was beginning to wear his
resistance down.
        "It sure has.  And we still don't have a clue who did this or
why.  Commissioner Vetter has been all over me, twice.  But don't
worry, I'll think of something so you don't get toasted," Schanke said
comfortingly.
        "Thanks, Schank.  Hopefully I won't have to check in at
twelve."
        "Hold that thought," Schanke said, quietly.
        "Yeah."
        Nick closed his phone and powered it down.
        The rubble seemed to be shifting almost continuously now.
Tiny squeaks and grating sounds chipped away at his will.  He didn't
know if a vampire could survive being smashed flat, and he was sure he
didn't want to find out.
        Fear for Natalie ate at him.  Fear that she would be killed
before they could rescue them.  Either from collapse of their tiny
space, or from one very hungry, tired, almost-out-of-control vampire.
His hands shook slightly from the sheer will power he was exerting to
keep from slipping, letting his fangs drop, letting the beast free...
        "Mmmpfff pfsa nersatf..." Natalie murmured against his chest.
        Nick was momentarily diverted from his own problems and slowly
stroked her hair.
        "It's okay, Nat.  Help will be here soon.  Just another hour,
maybe, and you'll be safe.  Safe..."
        Natalie sighed against him, and nestled closer, burrowing her
face into his shoulder.
        "M'okay," she muttered.
        "What?," Nick asked, and when she didn't answer, realized she
was talking in her sleep.
        "mmft ring?"
        Nick smiled, and stroked her hair.
        "Where'd you get it, it's beautiful, Nick..."
        Nick frowned a little trying to follow her, wondering what she
was talking about.
        "Wha... hope?"
        "Shh..." Nick said, soothing her, as she stirred restlessly.
        "...and ...love?"
        Nick kissed her brow.
        "...can't tell you ... gave it to you, Nick..."
        He listened puzzled, now.
        "... your ring.  I gave it to you... stands... our love..."
        Nick felt a bolt of lightning sizzle through him, and the space
seemed to be lit with a light so intense, it was painful...
        "...our faith..."
        And then he ceased to hear or feel Natalie at all.

                                ********

        The images tumbled through his mind with an such intensity,
brilliance and immediacy that he could not cope with the emotional and
physical overload.  It had happened centuries ago, yet it was
happening now, and Nick experienced it all, as if it was happening
this very moment.  He remembered.  Everything.  It was a jumble of
memories, flickering through him faster than he could comprehend.

        Nick cried out as the sheer ecstasy and pain melded together
in his mind and heart, in every cell of his body.  It echoed through
their rocky prison...

        ...He stopped and watched her with an appreciative smile.  She
was smiling.  Her face shone from within, and she was so beautiful.
Her hair was a golden halo, backlit by the sun, swirling around her
face, dancing in the light breeze.  He had the oddest feeling that he
knew her.  His horse danced under him impatiently, and he absently
stroked his neck.  And then she looked at him...

        "Do I know you?"

        Natalie grinned.  "Oh yes, you just don't know it."

        They rode as one. Her hair streamed into his face, her
laughter slid back to surround him, encompass him.  Her perfume seemed
to seep into his every pore.  The sun bathed them in a golden, buttery
light as they forged through meadows topped with a sea of flowers and
then plunged into cool forest glades dappled with light, where moss
and lichen softened the sounds of their thundering passage.

        "We're just friends."

        "Not lovers...?"

        "No."

        "I will not leave you," he said quietly.  "If God can
grant such wishes as this, then we will not waste one moment of it.
Such gifts are not to be taken lightly."

        "Tell me about the Crusades, Nick."

        "Qui etes vous, Natalie Lambert, pour lire si bien dans mes
pensees?"

        Nicolas' hands cupped her face.  "You are so beautiful," he
whispered, and then his mouth found hers.  She melted into his
embrace.

        "Nick...," she whispered when he let her breathe.  "I love you
so much."

        His lips trailed a path across her cheek and down her neck.

        His blood pounded and thundered through his body.  "Je
t'aime...ma chere Natalie..."

        "You fill my dreams, Natalie,

        "Promise me you will remember?"

        "Natalie?" he cried.  But there was no answer.  The sun
streamed down on him and birds chirped loudly, disturbed by his
outcry.

        "I promise.  I will never forget you," Nicolas said
fervently...

                                ********

        "No...," Nick whispered, gasping in pain and agony, and yet
quivering in exquisite joy.  A double-edge sword, his emotions swung
from both ends of the pendulum, crashing together in the middle,
destroying his equilibrium.
        He remembered.  And lived it as if it was the first time, and
in a sense, it was, as the vampire's perfect memory recorded it--the
words, the feelings, and sensations.  For Nick felt it, lived it, knew
it, as a man, and he felt it, lived it, knew it as a vampire...
Something no vampire had ever experience before.  The memories had
crashed through him like a flood, now it played out vividly in his
heart and mind.
        The first touch of her hand in his, the sweetness and
innocence of it.  The absolute trust he felt in her, knowing her and
not knowing her, understanding and not understanding.
        "Natalie...," he gasped, "how?"

        "Because I've been brought from that time and place to this
one.  God can do anything, make even the impossible possible." Natalie
said.

        The words slid through his mind as they stood in the soft
buttery sunlight, and he cried at the sheer pleasure of it.  For the
first time in eight centuries he felt the sunlight on his face, felt
it's unthreatening warmth caress him, and the vampire recorded it in
perpetuity.  Tears slid down his face, and in the darkness of his
prison he turned his face up to the sun, eight centuries past.
        "Oh, God...," he cried out, "it's so beautiful!"
        The memories would not stop, but moved on relentlessly,
drawing him from one height, to the next.
        He felt the texture of her skin, so very soft, like a
butterfly's wing as he touched her face.  He felt her breath on his
hand, as she exhaled, watched her luminous eyes, drawing him in.  He
cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, and felt her tremulous
response, and could hear the pounding of his heart, thundering in his
ears.  Her arms closed around him and he was lost.  Each precious
touch was as painful as it was pleasurable.
        And Nick wept as he realized what had happened under the
stars, not so far from Paris, eight centuries ago, just before he made
his fatal choice.  The memories pushed on through his momentary
understanding, sending him to dizzying heights.

        His lips found hers again, and his blood pounded and thundered
through his body.  "Je t'aime...ma chere Natalie..."

        He'd made love with Natalie.  Something he'd fantasized, but
never dared dream of.  Natalie.  Somehow she'd found him.  And loved
him.  Words choked in his throat as each touch of her hands was
remembered and experienced again, the feel of her skin against his,
her lips on his.  All of it.  Passion.  Light.  Climatic joy and pain.
And still the memories came...

        Nicolas woke to a sense of deep happiness.  He lay there
listening to her heart beat beneath him, feeling her warmth next to
his.  Her skin was so smooth to his touch.  He couldn't believe she
was real.  He raised his head and looked at her face.  Her lashes were
so long.  Her hair was so silky.  He touched it gently.  He kissed her
softly...

        Nick didn't think he could bear any more.  His body seemed to
be dissolving.  Adrenaline washed through him in dizzying waves.
Sensation crashed over him time and time again...

        Nicolas reached out and pulled her close, cradling her in his
arms. His breath slid across her check, warming her.  "Don't go,
Natalie." he whispered.  "Stay...  please.  I can't lose you now that
I've just found you!"

        And then, at last, he understood, as she placed the ring on
his hand, on that night so long ago...

        She took his hand and slid the ring on his finger.  He brought
it close and examined it.  He looked at Natalie in amazement.  "It's
the symbol of de Brabant.  How did you know....?"

        And now he knew.

        And then as dawn crept into the sky, her touch had been a
torch igniting his passion, and he'd made love to her once again.  And
fallen asleep in her arms...to wake alone.  Pain at that loss raged
through him anew, trebled his despair, and Nick tumbled from the
heights of passion to the darkness of absolute loss and depression.

        He looked at the ring.  "I will remember, Natalie.  I will
never forget.  I will never take it off."

        And yet he had.  He had forgotten...no, it had been taken from
him, until Natalie had released him with her words, spoken
thoughtlessly in sleep, not for him to hear.  Never for him to know.
And with that thought, Nick plunged back into the cold harshness of
reality.  He found himself holding Natalie, his face wet with tears,
shaking with emotions that ran the gamut from the greatest joy to the
deepest despair, and he was unable to cope.  He hurt.  Pain vibrated
in every pore.  And he was overwhelmed.
        Gasping he struggled to find his sanity, and the vampire
finding the chink in his armor had grown to a gaping hole, roared to
life.
        His eyes glittered with rage and anger, desire and hunger, for
the feast was in his arms.  He would have it all.  He smelled the
scent of her blood, as she curled close in his arms, and was ensnared
in it.  He followed the scent and nuzzled her cheek as he sought her
neck and the living river of blood and memories waiting for him.  His
lips touched her neck and his tongue tasted her...
        Natalie murmured and stretched in her sleep at the touch.
"Nick?"
        Nick gasped and jerked back as he realized what was
happening.  A whimper of sound escaped him as he struggled for
control, wanting Natalie, and wanting Natalie's blood.  His muscles
trembled and shook with the battle raging in his soul, but at last,
Nick conquered the vampire.
        Fatigue and exhaustion pulled at Nick as he leaned back
against the rubble, heedless of the danger.  He gasped for air, like a
landed fish, his chest heaving, and at last, wearied beyond belief, he
found a small modicum of sanity and control.
        Time passed as he sat there, drained and exhausted, feeling
limp and empty.
        Pain oozed from him, and his mind shut down from the
overload.  He closed his eyes and wished he could die.
        But he didn't.
        More time passed, and rational thought returned.
        He stared down at Natalie, still sleeping in his arms.  He
would never understand why he hadn't dropped her, nor why she hadn't
woken.   Nor did he understand...
        "Natalie," Nick said, "why didn't you tell me?"  Pain rolled
through his question.
        There was no answer.
        Nick felt the vampire, once again, struggling for release.  He
was lightheaded from hunger and want.
        He needed to get out of here, he needed to get away from
Natalie.  Her presence was so intense, so overpowering, he didn't
think he could keep from taking her.
        Blood.  Natalie's blood. Ecstasy...
        He licked his lips.  His eyes bubbled with tiny golden
lights.
        Blood called, a sweet, seductive song.
        Whispering.
        Singing.
        "Help me," Nick cried, his eyes shimmering with want.
        Shrieking...
        Metal shrieked overhead, and Nick looked up, as light suddenly
filtered into their prison.
        God, it seemed, had heard him.
        "Nick?" Schanke yelled, "you in there?"
        On the other hand, make that Schanke, Nick thought
deliriously.
        "Yeah, we're in here," he yelled back.
        And collapsed against the wall.



Chapter 5

Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the
day would quake to look on.
  -- Hamlet, Act III, Scene III

        Schanke grinned broadly at Harry Russell, a rough grizzled man
with fading red hair, who had directed the rescue effort so
successfully--and let him be here when they broke through.  Harry
grinned back.  Any survivor at this point was good.
        "Okay, Nick, they'll be shoring this opening up and making it a
little wider and then we want to get you out of there."
        "Okay," Nick said faintly.
        Schanke frowned.  Nick definitely didn't sound good at all.
        "Everything okay?" he asked, nervously.
        "Yeah, just tired," Nick responded.
        Schanke gave a thumbs up to Harry and stepped back out of the
way.  Harry nodded at two burly men who stood by with support columns
designed to help shore up the wall.  They got to work.
        Schanke turned around and signaled they had made contact.
Cheers went up from the workers.  Schanke grinned, feeling better than
he ought to, given the circumstances.
        It was then, he remembered Nick's allergy.
        "Oops..." Schanke said, "I forgot the coat...  Gotta get the
coat."
        He grabbed Harry's arm. "I forgot to get Nick's coat.  I'll be
right back..."  Schanke took off running.

        "We have just been informed they have made contact with
survivors trapped in the rubble," Carol Todd, of the Channel 8 news
informed the camera from 30 meters away.  "Only moments ago, the
rescue crews broke into an area where there are two survivors, and we
expect that they will be bringing them out momentarily.
        "For those of you who have just joined us, the building
exploded over eight hours ago with fifteen members of the Toronto
Police Force inside.  We understand that the survivors are a medical
examiner, and a homicide detective.  There's no word yet on their
condition, but our sources confirm they are alive..."
        She stopped for a moment as the camera panned the scene.  "An
ambulance and a large van have now pulled very close to the scene.
Yes, it looks like they are about to pull them from the rubble of this
building.  That there are any survivors at all is a miracle..."
        Schanke shook his head as he ran past with a trenchcoat
retrieved from the Caddy.  It was a pity, he thought, that they
couldn't keep the press away while they got them out.  They had been
in the way all morning.
        He arrived and handed the coat to Russell, breathlessly.
        "Thanks," Russell said and moved forward to where there was a
small opening in the side of the stairwell.  He handed the coat to a
rescue worker covered in dust and wearing a helmet.  The worker slid
delicately into the hole and disappeared.

        Nick shook Natalie, a little concerned that she hadn't woken
up.  She remained still.  He shook her again, and groggily she
blinked.
        "Nat?... C'mon, Nat, wake up."
        "Wha...?" Nat asked.
        "The rescue party is here, it's just about time to go," Nick
said.
        Natalie suddenly realized she could see.  "Thank God," she
whispered.
        Nick could only agree.
        The hole grew bigger in the wall, and was filled by hard hats
and grunting bodies moving boulders and metal out of the way.
        "Okay," somebody said, "we think this is big enough.  Can you
crawl out?"
        "Yeah, I'm sending Natalie out," Nick said and helped Natalie
move forward into the tunnel of light.  Hands reached out and grasped
her.  Nick watched her disappear, and breathed a sigh of relief.  He
felt himself relax, knowing she was safe for now.  Safe from the
building, and safe from him.  Slowly he wiped his face, scrubbing the
dried tears from his face, hoping what might be left wouldn't be
noticed.
        A worker leaned in.  "Detective," he said, and pushed
something towards him.  Nick reached forward and picked up his trench
coat.  He smiled, and put it on.
        "What's the plan?" he asked as he crawled forwards ducking
under the I-beam.
        "We're going to pull you out and then run you to a van that's
5 meters away, sir.  It's as close as we could get it.  Oh, I forgot,
here's a hat."
        Nick took the hat from him, and put it on. "Guess I'm as ready
as I'll ever be," he muttered and grabbed the proffered hands.
        They pulled him out into the burning, glaring sun.  Blinded by
it's hostile brilliance, Nick gasped and flinched away.  Four hands
steadied him.
        "Just follow me, sir," a voice said and grabbing him, ran him
towards the van.
        Nick followed, and within moments was stumbling into the
benevolent dark.  The door slammed behind him, and more hands pulled
him down onto a bench.  Nick kept his eyes closed, knowing that they
were glowing.  He couldn't help it.  He had nothing left to control it
with.  Nothing.  He gritted his teeth and slammed down on his fully
extended fangs.
        "Nick?" someone was asking, as he buried his face in his
hands.
        "Nick, c'mon Nick, you okay?"
        It was Schanke.
        Nick sighed and shook his head.
        "He's got blood, all over him," someone said.
        "Where's your shirt, Nick?" Schanke asked, as someone undid
the trenchcoat.
        "Check his hand," a third voice said.
        Hands were all over him.  Nick shoved them away, violently.
        "Hey, Detective!" a paramedic protested, "we're just trying to
help here.  C'mon, let us do our job."
        Nick buried the vampire by sheer will-power alone, and looked
up.
        His face was gray with grit and fatigue.  "Sorry," he
said. "Sunlight makes me..."
        "Wanna puke?" Schanke suggested, trying to lighten the
atmosphere.
        "Yeah," Nick managed.
        "You want to let us look at your head and your hand?  You've
got a bandage around it," the female paramedic, whose nametag read
Anne, asked.
        Nick looked at her, then shrugged.  There was no graceful way
out, what was he going to say, no, I'm healed?  "Okay, but I think it's
Nat's blood mostly.  She had a head wound."
        They carefully unwrapped his hand, to find a faint bruise.
Nick blinked in surprise.  He began to wonder how serious his head
wound had been, if his hand hadn't completely healed.  He stared at
Anne's neck as she examined his hand, watching the pulse leaping just
beneath her skin and then looked away and swallowed hard.  He tried to
ignore the beating of her heart, and couldn't.
        Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump...
        "Nick," Schanke said, concerned, "NICK?"
        Nick looked at him, "what?"
        "They want to know if you have any other cuts anywhere?  You
sure you don't have a concussion under all that blood?" Schanke asked
worried.  Nick hadn't heard anything they were saying.  His face
looked blank and pale.  Ashen, as if something had scared him to death
in there.
        Nick stared back at him, his eyes looking...odd, almost like a
wild
animal's, to Schanke.
        "No, not that I know of," Nick said at last.
        The other paramedic was daubing the dried blood off his head
and searching for signs of a wound.
        "I don't see any head trauma here," he said at last.
        "Are you sure, Fred?" Anne asked.
        "Yeah, oh wait, looks like you got a bruise here, too, but
that's all."
        The van jerked into motion.  Nick looked up, alarmed.
        "Where are we going?"
        "The hospital.  Mercy Faith.  Where'd you think.  Gotta get
you checked out thoroughly," Schanke said, puzzled at Nick's attitude.
        "I'm FINE!" Nick said, teeth gritted.
        "Well, maybe," Anne said, "but we want to make sure.  A
building did come down on top of you."
        Nick swore under his breath.  All he needed was about a gallon
of blood and he'd be fine.  But obviously, he was going to have to do
some fancy footwork at the hospital.  He would have to avoid
an examination and get out of there in one piece before he could get
blood.
        Sirens sounded in front of them, and they sped down the
street.
        "Where's Nat?" Nick asked finally.
        "She's in the ambulance in front of us," Schanke said
quietly.
        Nick looked at Schanke, "She wasn't easy to wake up when you
got there.  I think her concussion's more severe than it looked.
Could you pass that along?" he asked.
        Schanke nodded, "Yeah, I'll pass that along."  He pulled out
his cell phone and called, as Nick lay back on the padded bench.  He
was so tired, hungry and confused he didn't think he could take much
more.
        Nick closed his eyes and let his mind go blank.  He
concentrated on the swaying of the van, as it rushed through the
streets behind the ambulance, listening to the whisper of the road,
and the ka-chunk of the wheels across cracks and seams.  It didn't
register at first when he felt Anne take his wrist to check his pulse,
but then he abruptly pulled his arm out of her grasp.
        "Let me be," he said quietly, feeling surly, and hating it.
She was only doing her job, but he couldn't allow her to check his
pulse.  His non-existent pulse.
        The van pulled to a halt with a jerk.  Nick sat up and took
his bearings.  They were in the covered emergency entrance.  No
immediate problems for him, Nick saw with relief.
        Schanke had a hand under his elbow, pulling him out and into
the emergency room, past the waiting room, into an examination room.
Nick was in no condition to argue, and let Schanke pull him along.  He
knew Schanke was talking to him, but it buzzed past.  It was if he
could no longer absorb information.  He needed blood.  He needed
it...now.
        Schanke pushed him down onto a table with stern command, "Stay
put, Nick.  Just lay there, and let someone check you out.  I'm going
to go check on Nat."  He disappeared out the door, and it snicked into
place behind him.  Nick stared at it, and licked his lips.  All around
him he could hear heart beats.  A symphony of them, and he felt the
vampire struggling to synchronize with one of them, any of them.  Nick
shut his eyes again, and tried to will it away--without success.  It
was sort of like Muzak, Nick thought deliriously, an annoying
background filled with a soft cacophony of beating hearts, so many he
couldn't distinguish any particular one.
        Nick let it go, and instead struggled to find the strength
inside himself to take care of anyone walking through the door with a
stethoscope.
        Almost immediately, a short, heavy-set man entered the room,
stethoscope hung around his neck.  His hair was ruffled and sticking
up on one side and his scrubs looked like they'd seen a lot of action.
        "How are you doing, Detective, I'm Doctor Luker," he said as
he looked at Nick, examining him closely.  "You look a little pale."
        "I'm always pale," Nick said softly from his prone position,
"but other than that, I'll live."
        "Well, I'd feel a lot happier if I could double-check that
diagnosis," the doctor said smiling.  "You've spent a very trying
eight hours underneath a few tons of rubble, and I'd like to make sure
nothing else is going to happen to you today."
        Nick gripped the sides of the table for support as he looked
up at the doctor.  Concentrating hard, using the last of his waning
energy, he caught the doctor's eye, and snagged his mind.  He could
hear Luker's heart beating, and felt his resolve slip.  Just one
little sip, something inside him begged, just one...
        Nick swallowed, struggling against the need.
        "Doctor...," he said, watching Luker's face go still and
empty, "I'm fine.  You've examined me, and found nothing beyond a few
bruises and scratches."
        "Bruises and scratches...," Luker said agreeably.
        "You will release me and suggest I go home and get plenty of
rest, drink lots of fluids, and stay away from work for a couple of
days."  Nick felt his voice going hoarse with the effort to enforce
his will on the doctor.  All his senses screamed at him to feed, and
they did it in syncopation with the doctor's heartbeat.
        Fa-feed, fa-feed, fa-feed...
        Nick closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.  He opened them
to find the doctor waiting for him, his will drained away.
        "You also think I'm incredibly lucky to be walking around
after what happened today," Nick finished, and released him.
        "So, how'm I doing, Doc?" Nick asked.
        The doctor stared at him, puzzled for a moment.  "Uh, you're
doing fine, Detective.  You escaped with just a few bruises and
scratches.  Beats me how, but you don't even have a concussion.
        "I'm going to release you, but you should go straight home and
get plenty of rest, oh, and drink lots of fluids--you're a little
dehydrated--not surprising, though."  The doctor frowned as he stared
at his empty chart, confused that he hadn't filled it in.  He looked
back at Nick, watching him patiently.  "Um, you should also take a
couple of days off and take some time to work through this experience.
Trauma like this can have a delayed stress reaction, so if you need to
talk to someone, I suggest you talk to the police psychologist, or if
he's not available, Dr. Briggs, here on staff, is really good.  And
you are one *lucky* man to be walking around.  Someone is really
looking after you!"
        "Thanks, Doc," Nick said meekly, and sitting up, swung himself
off the table.  He shook the doctor's hand just as Schanke poked his
head back through the door.
        "You're kidding," Schanke said, surprised, "you letting this
no-good lay-about go home?"
        The Doctor smiled at Schanke, "Yes, he's in surprisingly good
shape.  I have no reason to keep him here."
        Nick leaned against the table as the doctor spoke with
Schanke, and hoped nobody noticed he wasn't having a lot of success
standing up by himself.  The doctor was already looking puzzled over
his 'conclusions', and Nick didn't need any more complications at this
point.
        Nick knew he shouldn't feel this weak, but he did.  The
question was, was it from the injuries he'd sustained, or was it from
the emotional trauma he'd suffered when he had remembered his past, or
was it the combination?  He wished he knew.
        "Well, Knight, you lucky dog, what do you want to do now?"
Schanke asked as the doctor left the room.
        Nick looked up at Schanke, and gave a wan smile.  "Go home.
Get something to eat.  Go to bed.  In that order."
        "Oh," Schanke said, "here."  He handed Nick his jacket and
shirt.  "Natalie had 'em."
        "Thanks," Nick said and slowly dressed.  "How is she?"
        "Oh.  Um.  They're keeping her 'til tomorrow for observation.
You were right, apparently.  She has a nasty concussion and they want
to make sure she's going to be okay.  I guess she's got the mother of
all headaches right now.  But she's gonna be okay."
        Schanke watched Nick as he carefully, but slowly, tucked in
his shirt, and shook his head, "You sure you don't want some to get
some food now?  You look pretty weak, Nick."
        "Nah.  Thanks, I'll wait until I get my teeth into something
really solid."
        "Hey, a souvlaki will do that for you," Schanke protested.
         I don't think so, thanks, but no thanks.  I've got something
that'll be better at home."
        "Okay.  Whatever you say," Schanke said agreeably.  He was
just happy to have Nick back, and would have gladly robbed a bank for
him.  Lucky thing Nick didn't know that, or he just might ask him to.
        "Say," Schanke asked, brightening, "what d'ya say we pop in
and see her on the way out?"
        Nick stared at Schanke, appalled.  The last thing he wanted
right now was to see Natalie.  He was likely to go straight for her
carotid.  And yet... he wanted to see her more than anything.  He felt
very confused by his emotions.  Now, that was an understatement.  He
hadn't even had time to figure out what the hell had happened, let
alone deal with it, whatever *it* was.
        "Nick?" Schanke asked, waving a hand in front of his face.
"I'm not so sure they should be letting you outta here, partner.  You
seem a little far around the bend.  When I get sick and Myra starts
waving her fingers in my face to see if I'm alive, I know I'm not
going anywhere but bed."
        "I'm okay, Schank.  Really," Nick said.  "I'm just really
tired, and I'm not thinking very straight.  I've been blown-up, scared
to death, and spent hours waiting to see whether I was going to live
through the day or not, so cut me a little slack, here, okay?
        Schanke laughed.  "Now that's starting to sound like the Nick
I know.  C'mon, let's go check on Natalie."
        Grabbing Nick by the arm, he headed down the hall.  Nick was
glad for Schanke's support, and relieved he hadn't noticed how much
Nick needed it.
        Dr. Luker, standing by the nurses station, watched them go,
haunted by a nagging feeling that he'd missed something--something
important.  Finally he shook his head, and headed for his next
patient.
        Natalie, according to one of the ER nurses, had just been
transferred upstairs to a private room on the third floor.  Nick was
relieved for a little more time.  Schanke on the other hand...
        "Man-oh-man," he moaned, "we just missed her.  We coulda
helped take her up there.  You could have pushed, I could have pulled,
made jokes, helped her get comfy, but nooooo, we missed it."
        "Schanke." Nick said as they stepped into the elevator
interrupting what was turning into a monologue.
        "Yeah?"
        "Stuff a sock in it."
        Schanke threw Nick a funny look.  "You wound me, Nick, you
wound me."
        Nick didn't reply but leaned back against the wall as the
elevator smoothly and quietly lifted them to the third floor.
        Schanke watched him, suddenly concerned.  He'd seen Nick
paler, he was sure, but he couldn't remember when.  Not to mention,
he wasn't fielding Schanke's one-liners with his usual ease.  In fact,
he wasn't fielding them at all.  He pursed his lips thoughtfully.
        "Nick," Schanke asked, "are you sure we shouldn't be checking
you into the hospital?  You don't look too good."
        Nick opened his eyes and found Schanke a bit too close for
comfort, giving him the once-over.  He could hear his heart beating,
and he couldn't stop from staring at Schanke's neck where his pulse
beat above his loosened collar and skewed tie.  Nick tore his gaze
away from the pulse to look Schanke in the eyes.
        "Yeah, I'm sure.  Thanks for asking, though.  I'm just really
tired, and if anything, I'm starting to feel...,"  Nick stopped and
thought about it.  "Actually, I don't know how I feel, I guess.
Empty, maybe."
        He looked at Schanke seriously, "Maybe its all finally sinking
in, I don't know."
        "You sure?" Schanke asked again.
        Nick shrugged.  "I've been better, but I'll survive.  I don't
need a hospital.  I just need about twelve hours of sleep, for
starters."
        The doors opened admitting them to the third floor.
        Schanke looked at Nick through narrowed eyes.  "If you say so,
buddy, but I'm thinking maybe I should park myself on the couch and
keep an eye on you."
        Nick cringed at the thought of Schanke in the loft, with his
heart beating louder than a timpani drum.  Schanke'd be a target.  He
might as well get a big sign that said 'free blood right here'
and hang it around his neck.  He was far too enticing to Nick in this
state.  He needed to get control of himself.  No, Schank at the loft
was not a good idea.
        "Thanks, but no thanks," Nick said as they headed for the
nurses station.
        "Nick...?" Schanke said, a little frustrated.  "I just don't
want you to have some kind of relapse or...,"
        Nick stopped and stared at him.
        "...something," Schanke finished.
        "I won't."  Nick suddenly realized that arguing with Schanke
was like getting a second wind, he felt better already.  Maybe it was
emotional overload.  He hoped that was all it was.
        They finished the short trip to the Nurses station in silence.
        "May I help you?" the nurse asked.
        "Yeah," Schanke said, leaning over and trying to read her
up-side-down room chart.  "We're looking for Natalie Lambert, she was
just brought up."
        The nurse raised an eyebrow and picked up the chart so Schanke
could no longer see it.  He shrugged and looked at Nick.
        "She's in room 314, just down the first hall on the right,"
the nurse said primly, glaring at Schanke.  She hated snoops.
        "Thanks," Nick said and left Schanke to play catch-up.  Might
as well get this over, he though to himself, and mentally prepared
himself.  It wasn't enough.
        Natalie was just putting down her water glass when Nick
entered the room.
        Her scent was seductive, an assault on all his senses...
        He wanted her blood.  Wanted it.  Needed it.  Nick stopped as
if he'd hit a solid wall.  He couldn't take another step.  If he did,
he would drain her dry without hesitation.  Her heartbeat was so loud,
he was drowning in the sound.  Drowning in the need for Natalie.
        Natalie looked up and saw him.  She smiled softly.
        Nick swallowed, and stepped back a bit as Schanke shoved past
into the room.
        "Hi, Natalie, how're you feeling?" Schanke asked cheerfully.
        Nick put his hand up against the wall to steady himself.
        "Hi, Schanke," Natalie said with a small smile, "Hi, Nick, I
was wondering what they'd done with you.  Are you okay?"
        "Oh, wonder-boy, is fine, Natalie," Schanke said.  "The doctor
practically threw him out.  Said he was wasting his time.  Nick hardly
had a scratch on him.  He let you take the brunt of it."
        Natalie laughed, and then put a hand to her head.  "Don't make
me laugh," she said.  "It hurts."
        Schanke was instantly contrite.  "I'm sorry, Natalie.  Didn't
mean to make it worse."
        "No, that's okay.  It's good to laugh actually.  I guess it
means I'm going to live.  I was kind of worried about that for a
while," Natalie said.
        "So I heard.  Nicky-boy, was telling me you guys had an
*intense* talk down there, didn't ya, Nick?"  Schanke turned and asked
Nick.
        "Oh?" Nat asked, looking at him.
        "Yeah," Nick managed.
        Natalie ran a practiced eye over Nick, and realized that
something was wrong with him.  Really wrong.  Nick looked like he had
a bad case of indigestion or ... something.
        "Nick, are you okay?" Natalie asked, puzzled at the mixed
signals he was sending.  "You don't look very good.  I thought I was
the one with the concussion."
        "You are," Nick said finally.  "I'm the one who stayed awake
and held the building up.  I just need to get something to...eat, and
about twelve hours sleep to...rebuild my strength."
        Natalie swallowed, realizing what Nick was implying.  He was
hungry.  Really hungry.  He was looking at her like she was absolutely
delectable.  She suddenly felt very much like main course and dessert,
all rolled into one.  She was reminded all over again, that Nick was
not exactly 'safe'.  Nick inched closer to the door.  It was obvious
he wasn't going to move one step nearer, he didn't *dare* move closer.
        "Schanke, I think you ought to take Nick home right now.  He
needs rest," Natalie said abruptly, as she watched Nick.  And even as
she spoke, intuition told her that hunger wasn't his only problem, but
now wasn't the time to ask--not with Schanke standing there watching
their every move.
        "It's okay, Nat.  I'm fine," Nick said.
        "Yeah, right," Schanke said rolling his eyes.  "He's been
saying that ever since he came out of that dungeon you two were stuck
in.  And he ain't all right."
        "Well, you know Nick," Natalie said dryly.  "He'd drop over
dead before he'd admit to being sick."
        Nick pressed his hand against the wall, leaving a slight
indention, and struggled to find a light tone.  "Thanks a lot.  I just
wanted to stop by and see you were okay before I went home."
        "I'm okay.  I've just got a concussion, which is no surprise
to anybody.  By the way, they loved your impromptu Band-Aid.  I'll
have you know that was my favorite slip!" Natalie said indignantly,
smiling, hoping to lighten the atmosphere and help Nick out.
        "What?" Schanke asked, turning his head practically around to
stare at Nat.  "What slip?"
        "Oh, Nick ripped my slip in two and used it to bandage my
gusher of a head wound," Natalie said.  "I didn't even know until I
got here.  I'm probably on tape on every single News broadcast
wearing my black satin slip as a head ornament."
        "No way!" Schanke hooted.  "Nick, you scum-bag, why didn't you
use your shirt?"
        "He did," Natalie said, "I was wearing both it and his
jacket."
        "Oh, yeah, that's right..."
        The conversation faded out for Nick.  He backed up another
step as Natalie's heart beat began to fill every empty space in his
head.
        Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump...
        He could barely hear them.  He wanted her so badly.  He could
smell her blood, it was the sweetest perfume, so full of promise.
Full of love.  Full of life...
        "Nick?" Schanke asked putting his face in Nick's.  "Nick, what
is wrong with you?"
        "Schanke, it's okay," Natalie said from her bed.  "Just get
him home.  He needs to get home, *now*."
        Schanke looked at her.  "I don't get you two.  I think he
needs to be stuck in a bed and watched.  And you want to send him
home?"
        Natalie twisted her hands together and said carefully.  "Nick
will be better off at home.  He can shut out the sun, take his
medication, and get some sleep.  I'm sure that's all he needs.
Sleep."  Natalie looked at Schanke.  "And food," she added.
        Nick stared at her over Schanke's shoulder.  He licked his
lips.
        "Food," he said softly, the spell momentarily broken.  "I
shouldn't have come, Nat.  I should just have gone home.  C'mon,
Schanke, get me home.  I'll talk to you later."
        Schanke shook his head, and grabbed Nick by the elbow.  "C'mon,
wonder-boy, let's go.  I hope you're right about this, Natalie," he
threw over his shoulder as he led Nick out.
        Natalie stared after them, scared.  She'd never seen Nick so
close to losing control.  He'd been hungry and desperate.  She'd seen
him drunk and angry, and out-of-control in the back room of the Raven,
but she'd never seen him look like that.  Needy.  Desperate.  Ready to
feed and damn the consequences.  She hoped Schanke would leave Nick
alone before he lost it entirely and made Schanke into an involuntary
donor.
        "What happened, Nick?" she asked.  It had to be more than a
building coming down on them.  He'd been fine the last time they'd
talked.  Right before she fell asleep.  So what else had happened?
        Her head hurt trying to think about it.  Too much so, to try
to figure it out, so Natalie lay back, flipped the light off, and
decided she'd worry about it tomorrow.  After all, she reasoned,
neither she or Nick was going anywhere soon.

        Schanke had arranged for the van to wait, in case Nick was
actually released, and he helped Nick lie down in the back again
before heading for the front.  He nodded to the driver and they pulled
out.
        Nick lay there, aware of Schanke and the driver talking, but
not able to comprehend their words.  He could not focus.  Their hearts
drowned out the conversation.  It was all he could hear.  Tha-thump,
fa-feed, tha-thump, fa-feed, tha-thump, fa-feed.  He closed his