This story originally appeared in "A Taste of Forever". That I'm posting it at this late date is due to the extraordinary inconvenience of real life . In case you don't receive a story part, all parts as they are posted, can be found on my website at: http://www.loftworks.com/wftk/fiction.html As always, I must give thanks to my sister Jeanne, who has been my tireless editor (and slave-driver) over the years as well as to Liza who helped me get this right. Thanks also to Nancy Kaminski, Cindy Ingram and Kathy Whelton for asking me to write a story for their wonderful zine. At the time, I didn't think I could find words, as life had dealt me some severe blows. But it turns out there were more words and then the words turned into a story that I cherish, and I'm deeply appreciative for the impetus that made them flow again. The Gift By Dorothy Elggren Copyright April 1999 Natalie sang quietly under her breath as she finished the autopsy. Whenever she was alone, she liked to sing. She couldn't say why, exactly, or even when she had started this bizarre little tradition of singing to the corpses, but she enjoyed it. It made her work easier, and as Natalie like to believe, if any stray spirits were hanging around checking on her handling of their mortal remains, it would appease them. "Moon river, wider than a mile..." Natalie finished closing the Y incision and began suturing it. "I'm crossing you in style, someday... Oh, dream-maker. You... heart-breaker..." "Wow, an operatic performance," Schanke exclaimed behind her. "Awwwk!" Natalie croaked, dropping everything as her heart went through the ceiling. She turned and glared at a smirking Schanke and openly grinning Nick. "You two--out! NOW!" "But, Natalie," Schanke protested dramatically, "we're just two drifters, off to..." Natalie put her hands on his chest and shoved. "Out, out, out!!!" Laughing they disappeared back through the door. "Drat," Natalie muttered her hands on her hips. "Drat, drat, double-drat!" There was a knock on the door. Natalie grimaced and stared at the door willing them to go away. She wanted to sink through the floor. Embarrassment didn't begin to cover it. Nick stuck his head through the door. "If he says he's sorry will you at least give us the autopsy report on Mitchell?" She looked at Nick's angelic face with narrowed eyes. Damn that man for being able to charm the birds out of trees, and irate medical examiners out of total embarrassment. The dark look on her face faded. "Oh, all right. You can come back in--but I don't want to hear anything about my singing, or there will be no report." "Okay," Nick whispered conspiratorially. The door shut for a moment and Natalie composed herself by heading for her desk and the autopsy report in question. "Hey, Nat," Schanke said as he came back through the door. Natalie met his glance and stared him down. He swallowed hard and looked fixedly at Nick's back. One thing about Schanke, Myra had him well trained, and he knew when to shut up. "Here's the report," Natalie said as she shoved it into Nick's hands. "Mitchell died of a single stab wound to the chest, as if you hadn't already noticed. The wound is approximately 20mm by 2mm, with a ragged edge." "Serrated blade?" Nick edged in to Natalie's staccato delivery. Natalie took a breath. "Yes." Anyway, it's pretty straightforward. It was a knife fight that went bad. If I were to guess, there's another guy out there with some serious wounds judging from the blood we found on the victim's knife." "Why do you say that?" Schanke asked, edging closer and trying to look inconspicuous at the same time. He didn't want to set Natalie off again, and you just never knew with women. Natalie nodded at the report Nick held. "Mitchell had a lot of scars. Knife scars. He'd been fighting for a long time. He just finally ran into somebody better than him." "Uh, well, thanks," Schanke said. He looked at Natalie earnestly. "Sorry about, uh, well...you know...." Natalie smiled. "It's okay, Schank, I shouldn't get that...involved." Schanke thought of some great comebacks to being involved with a corpse and decided tonight was not the night. "Yeah, well, we'll be going now." Nick grinned at Natalie, and then looked at Schanke. "If it's okay with you, I'll catch up to you at the precinct." Schanke laughed. "Hey, if it gets her in a better mood, it's great with me," he agreed and disappeared quickly out the door before Natalie could say anything. Natalie frowned at the door and blew her breath out angrily. "Oh great, just great. Now everybody is going to know that I sing to my guests, Nick. Schanke is the largest blabbermouth in the world...no, universe. I'll never live it down." "Yes, you will," Nick said hugging her swiftly. "I'll take care of it." "And just how are you going to do that?" Natalie asked suspiciously. Nick shrugged, "Well, I'll whammy him. He'll never know what hit him." "Nick," Natalie said. "Schank already has enough holes in his memory. He's going to think his brain is moth-eaten." "I'll give him some new memories. Don't worry, Nat." "It's not worth it, Nick. Just leave him alone. At least don't whammy him. Just threaten him within an inch of his life. That should do it," Natalie muttered. She kicked at the floor with her toe. "On second thought, he deserves to have one big giant hole where his brain was. Maybe whammying him would be good." Nick smiled at the devious look that flitted across Natalie's face. "What?" Natalie said staring at Nick. "The look on your face, Nat...," Nick said with a laugh. Natalie looked at him then started to laugh. "I'm sorry, Nick. I guess I over-reacted a bit, huh? Nick shrugged. "I don't know. Schanke's... well, Schanke. Don't worry, though, Nat, I'll take care of it. And Schanke's brain won't be any worse for the wear." "So, what can I do for you, Nick?" Natalie asked, moving on. She ran a practiced eye over him. "You have a bullet in you or something?" "No," Nick said with a sideways glance at her. "So, what can I do for you then? Want to try my latest protein shake?" Nick made a face. "Not really," he said, then his face brightened. "Actually, I was hoping you'd go to the Symphony with me on Friday night. They're having a guest pianist, and he's going to play Paganini and Rachmaninoff." "You want to go to the symphony?" Natalie asked in surprise. Nick had been hibernating more than usual the last few months since LaCroix had returned. The only place he'd gone had been the Raven, her apartment and once, she'd dragged him to a movie. "Yeah, will you go?" Several thoughts flickered through Natalie's mind at Nick's question, from 'Why?' to, 'Nick is asking me out?' But not being one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, Natalie said simply "I'd love to, Nick." She'd find out the whys later. "Great," Nick said with happiness suddenly lighting up his face. Natalie stared at him suspiciously. "There's something more to this than just a symphony, isn't there?" Nick looked at her startled. "How'd you know?" "Nick, you haven't been out of the loft in a couple of months. It doesn't exactly take a detective." Natalie said with a laugh. Nick had the grace to look a little sheepish. "Besides, there's something in your eyes," Natalie said slowly looking closer at Nick. "What's so important about this?" Nick looked away and then, after a moment, walked slowly around the half-stitched corpse lying on her examination table. He seemed oblivious to everything. Natalie waited patiently until he stood in front of her again. "It's important," he said finally, "because of the pianist. His name is Mark O'Donnell, and once upon a time...I knew him." Natalie stared up in wonder at Nick. "You knew him...when?" Nick took Natalie's hands, and smiled at her. "A long time ago, when he was oh, about so high." His hand drew a line in the air about chest high. "I'll tell you about it after shift. Come to the loft, and I'll tell you all about Mark." "You're going to make me wait?" Natalie asked. "The suspense is killing me, already." Nick grinned and rubbed his thumb along her hand slowly. "Sorry, but it's a long story, and one that's best not interrupted by work." "Oh, you mean that there's some vampire stuff involved," Natalie guessed. Nick laughed. "Actually, no--this is one time there isn't." He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll see you later." "Okay, if I have to wait, I wait," Natalie said resigned. "This is going to be a long night." Nick stopped as he opened the door. "Then just sing, Nat. You've got a beautiful voice, and even if your guests don't appreciate it, I...do." "Nick," Natalie said suspiciously, "this isn't the first time you've heard me singing, is it?" Nick smiled. "No. Sometimes, I just stay outside and listen. You really do have a pretty voice, and ... you've got a great repertoire." "I should have known," Natalie said with a smile. "Go on, get out of here. You've got some whammying to do." She made shooing motions at him. Nick grinned and left, and Natalie got back to her half-sutured guest, but not before looking at the clock and calculating how many hours it would be before she heard the full story. ****** Natalie pulled into Gateway Lane just as the horizon took on a slightly golden hue. The sun would be up soon. The gravel crunched beneath her feet as she got out of her car. Suddenly, the sky brightened and the clouds took on pink and golden tones. Natalie stopped and stared up at the clouds in awe as color glowed in them and seemed to flit from place to place. Somehow, knowing that Nick couldn't watch, but wanted to experience sunlight--any daylight--more than anything made her stop and treasure the moment. She glanced up at the loft and saw that the windows were already securely shuttered against the day and wistfully wished Nick could be here standing beside her. "Yeah, and if wishes were fishes," Natalie muttered. They still had a long way to go in their quest to bring him back to mortality--if it was possible. If... She headed for the elevator, and paced impatiently as it groaned its way up to the loft. Natalie pushed back the door to find the room glowing with candlelight. Not just one or two, but about fifteen or twenty, and Natalie stopped and took it in. She smiled slowly and stepped into the room. Whenever Nick took to lighting more than his usual couple of candles, she had discovered it meant he was happy--a rather rare occurrence--and more importantly, talkative. Something about candlelight made Nick feel as if he were in a long ago time and place. A place and time where, Natalie suspected, he could pretend he wasn't who he was or had done what he had done. She had never asked because she was afraid to spoil his mood. Greed, she supposed. Greed for every little morsel and kernal of information she could glean. Not only that, if she were to admit it to herself, it *was* romantic, and she could dream, too, couldn't she? Natalie shook her head and pointed her thoughts back into reality at that. She looked around for Nick and didn't see him. "Nick?" "Natalie!" Nick said from above her, appearing from his bedroom, buttoning his shirt. For a moment his chest gleamed pearly white before disappearing behind a neat row of buttons. "I'm glad you made it," Nick said coming down the stairs quickly. Natalie smiled. "With an invitation like the one you gave, did you think I wouldn't be here?" Nick grinned. "No." "I thought so," Natalie said. "And I need coffee. You'd better have some." "The bag you brought is still here," Nick said. "Under the sink." Natalie made a face. She'd tried to break him of that habit, but so far had been unsuccessful. She dropped her jacket on the back of a chair and headed into the kitchen. "The saddest part of all, Nick, is...it's gourmet." "Well, I guess you'll have to enjoy it for me," Nick said as he joined her and pulled out the coffeepot. They made coffee in companionable silence, a ritual they had fallen into over the last year. When they had started, Nick hadn't known one end of the pot from the other, now he made some of the best coffee Natalie ever had. She'd asked him once how he did it. He'd merely grinned and touched his nose. "Great sense of smell," he'd whispered into her ear. Whatever if was, Natalie relished the coffee he made. "Mmmm," Natalie said when he finally handed her the oversized mug. "Heaven!" Nick wrinkled his nose slightly, but said nothing. "Okay, I can function now," Natalie commanded sitting down at the table. "Start talking." Nick sat across from her and grinned, "Your wish is my command, Natalie." Natalie snorted, "Right." Nick was silent, and Natalie could literally feel his mood change. The quality of the room seemed to change, as if a cool, brisk breeze had suddenly flowed through it. Even the candles seemed to flicker. "Mark O'Donnell," Nick said softly. "He's a world class concert pianist. Did you know that?" Natalie shook her head. "No." "You need to get out of the morgue more often," Nick said. "There's a world of marvelously gifted people out there, and you, you should experience it." "I will," Natalie reminded him with a smile, "on Friday." Nick grinned wickedly at her. "So you shall, milady." Natalie shook her head and thought that Nick really ought to take his own advice. He'd been holed up here like a bear hibernating for the winter, but then on the other hand, she supposed there wasn't much that he hadn't seen or done in 800 years. Maybe after all that time, peace and quiet was desirable, but somehow she doubted it. Guilt was Nick's problem. Nick interrupted her thoughts as he began to speak again. "It was 1965," Nick said softly, "and I was back in Chicago. I'd been working as a cop, and finally starting to get the hang of things--I even went through the academy, Nat." Natalie raised her eyebrows at that. "Really?" "Yeah. I screwed up, I thought I could just go in and be a cop, but I couldn't. I found I had a lot to learn--the hard way--so I went to the academy. Anyway, I'd been walking the beat about five-six months then. Things were going well and I had settled into this big old house in a fairly poor area of Chicago. The house and the neighborhood had seen better days. Times were hard, and a lot of places were boarded up and abandoned. But it was quiet and it suited me." "I get the picture," Natalie said dryly, "it was a lot like this, wasn't it?" "Yes,and no," Nick said. "There was an Irish community there. Families--however poor--lived there. It wasn't nearly as deserted as this. But they minded their own business." Natalie grinned. "Oh." "Anyway," Nick said, "this one night I was off and bored, and I was sort of out prowling the neighborhood when I saw this kid. He was about eight or nine, and he was busy stealing a couple of apples from the local grocer. The grocer missed it. The kid was slick--well practiced--but I saw him do it, and when he thought he was clear, I stopped him." "Pulled him over, huh?" Natalie teased. "More like tackled him," Nick laughed. "He was a fast little kid." "But not fast enough," Natalie said shrewdly. "Not against you." "Nope," Nick agreed with a twinkle. "Anyway, something about him caught my eye. There he was, dirty, threadbare, angry and scared all at the same time, and he put his chin up and acted like nothing scared him... "Lemme go!" Mark demanded trying to pull his arm away from the steel grip Nick held it in. "I didn't do nuthin.'" Nick raised his eyebrows slightly and then reached down and pulled the apples from Mark's too-big and obviously hand-me-down jacket. "Then what are these?" Nick asked idly, with a smile. "Apples," Mark said, his brows lowering into a frown at the stupidity of the question. "Can't you tell?" "Oh, I can tell, all right," Nick said. "But...they're stolen, aren't they? Stolen right out from under Jack Halloran's nose." Nick put the apples back in Mark's pocket and calmly checked his other pocket. "And look here, cheese--a nice big hunk of it." Mark squirmed but said nothing. Nick shook his head slightly, amused. "I didn't see you take the cheese. You're good. But I'm not sure that's an accomplishment to be proud of." Nick spoke lightly but there was steel lurking in his voice and Mark shrank a bit in his grip. Nick turned his piercing gaze on his young captive, "Why'd you do it?" The words hung in the air and after a long moment, Mark blinked and stared up at Nick, astonished. "I'm hungry," he said simply, "and so's my brother and Mama." Nick let go of Mark's arm abruptly and then knelt to meet Mark on an equal basis. This was not the answer he had expected. He'd seen a lot of juvenile crime in the last few months, and it wasn't typically from hunger, but from anger or boredom or stupidity. "Why are you hungry?" he asked softly. Mark shrugged and pushed his unruly red hair out of his face and shoved his cap on more firmly. "Pa left," he said simply. "Mama does alterations, and I shine shoes after school, but Harry's only three. There's just not ..." He stopped on a sigh. There wasn't anything else to be said. Silence filled the air between them as Nick met Mark's defeated gaze with compassionate understanding. "What's your name?" Nick asked at last. "Mark. Mark O'Donnell," Mark said firming his shoulders and sticking out his chin defiantly. "I'm Nick, Officer Nicholas Knight," Nick said smiling. This was one plucky kid. "Officer?" Mark repeated, feeling his heart tumble to his toes at his really, really bad luck. Nick smiled at him. "Come on, Mark," he said, taking Mark's hand. "Where?" Mark asked uneasily, allowing himself to be pulled along. "You'll see," Nick said and started down the street towards Halloran's Grocery. Mark began to resist, but Nick smiled at him. "Trust me," he said, "it'll be all right." Nick dragged a white-faced Mark into Halloran's and went directly to the cash register. Halloran looked at them with a warm smile, "It's Officer Knight, isn't it?" he asked. Halloran often saw the young officer walking the streets, but this was the first time he'd actually come into his store. Perhaps he would get his business now. Nick nodded casually, "Good evening, Mr. Halloran." "What can I do for you?" Halloran asked taking in Nick's grip on his young companion with narrowed eyes. "Mark, here," Nick said calmly, "took a couple of apples and some cheese...," Halloran's face darkened in anger, but Nick continued before he could say anything, "and I will pay for them." "The young whelp should be a'paying for it with a good walloping," Halloran growled. "That won't help the fact that he and his family are hungry, Mr. Halloran, and they have no money," Nick said softly, stopping Halloran's diatribe. "I'll take care of it. Mark will work off his debt to me. He won't do it again. He won't need to." Mark stared up at Nick in surprise. Halloran wrinkled his brow in thought as Nick placed money down on the counter. Halloran slowly picked it up and after a moment, made change. He took a breath, "You're a fair man, Officer, fairer than I would be. I would'na be thinking about the cause, only that he paid for his crime." He looked down at Mark. "You promise, boy, not to be a'stealing me food anymore?" Mark nodded mutely, and then whispered. "I'm sorry." "Then you be off," Halloran said grumpily, feeling ashamed at his mindless anger, and lack of compassion in front of this *Scottish* cop. Irish took care of their own. It shamed him to have this foreigner doing what a good Irishman ought to be. Nick smiled. "Thank you," he said simply and with a nod, took Mark out the door. They walked silently up the street. Mark was amazed at how easily he'd gotten out of it by the glib tongue of this tall, kind...cop. His enemy. He scratched his head absently. He guessed he'd have to think about the police a bit differently. "See," Nick said, "that wasn't so bad, now was it?" "No...," Mark allowed, "but you didn't say yet, how I was gonna pay it off to you." Nick laughed. "No, I guess we'll work that out as we go along." "Where're we going?" Mark asked suddenly. "My place," Nick said. "I think it's time we had a little talk. Man to man. Don't you?" Natalie laughed. "Really? You just took him home with you? Nick, wasn't that a bit rash?" Nick reached out across the table and took Natalie's hand in his. "Yes, but how could I resist? It was foolish and dangerous, too. But he needed help, and I...I guess I needed to help... Helping people is the only thing that makes *this* life worthwhile. It's the only way to atone." He looked at her hand and stroked it, then met her gaze, "I couldn't walk away, and I don't think you could've either, could you?" Natalie looked at her hand held so carefully in his. "No," she said softly. "No." "So I took him home," Nick said simply. "Wow, you got a really big place. What do you do with all this space?" Mark wondered as he pushed his cap back and stared up at the tall ceilings. He turned around and around in the large spacious living room. His eyes got bigger as he spotted the motorcycle lurking in the corner. "You got a motorcycle in your living room? How come?" Nick laughed as he dropped his coat over a chair. "I dunno. I guess because it's the only place big enough." "Mama would have kittens if she saw that," Mark said. "The living room is always just perfect, you know. So people will think that we're better off'n we are. I could never have anything in there." "Well, things like that matter more to women," Nick agreed, remembering with feeling the lash of Janette's tongue on more than one occasion when he'd sullied her sitting room with dirty boots or stray swords. You never could quite win with women. Mark ran his hands across the silky metal of the motorcycle and stared at his freckled face in the shiny surface. "Swift," he said reverently. Then something in the reflected surface of the motorcycle caught his eye and he turned around and gasped in awe at the grand piano sitting in an alcove. He walked over to it mesmerized. And after a moment he slowly reached out a hand and touched it. "Grandpa played the piano," Mark said after a moment looking up at Nick as he joined him. "He was really good. I loved to listen to him play. Are you good?" Nick considered his answer. "Yeah, I'd say I was pretty good." "That'd be really cool to be able to play," Mark said on a sigh, "but when Grandpa died, Pa sold the piano. He gambled." He turned away and ran his fingers along the piano as if he'd said all that needed to be said, and Nick figured he had. All the important stuff that had led Mark to stealing. "Mark," Nick said sitting on the piano bench, "How'd you like to work for me after school?" "Yeah," Mark said suspiciously, "doing what?" "I need someone to run errands for me, things that have to be done during the day," Nick replied more casually than he felt." Mark screwed up his face, "Why?" "Because I work nights and sleep days, and...," Nick hesitated, "I have an allergy to the sun. I can't go out in the day." Mark came around the piano and heaved himself up on the bench beside Nick. "You're kidding, aren't you?" Mark asked. Nick shook his head and met Mark's eyes. "Nope." "I'll be that sucks," Mark said and Nick grinned in spite of himself at Mark's choice of words. "Yeah," Nick agreed, "it sucks. So, will you work for me? You can work off your debt and after that, I think it would be a heck of a lot better than shining shoes. It'd be steady pay. Enough to help your Mother out--all of you." "You're not just doing this 'cuz you're sorry, are you?" Mark asked suspiciously. "No," Nick replied. "I'm doing it because I need help and you need help, and that's where all business deals start. Each party can do something for the other." Mark thought about it seriously, then looked up at Nick. "How much?" Nick grinned. "Twenty-five a week." Mark's eyes got wide. "You're crazy. That's a lot. Mama will never go for that. I only make six or seven a week shining shoes." "Yeah, but I *really* need someone to be consistently available, so I don't have to pay people extra money and come in at night just to get business taken care of. What'dya say we go talk to your Mom, and work it out?" Mark thought about it, for all of two seconds. "Okay," he agreed. "This is neat!" "So just like that you got a junior assistant?" Natalie teased. "Just like that. That is, after some discussion with his Mother. They're Irish, remember. They weren't exactly gullible." "Yeah, but I know you. You can charm the birds out of the trees, and women, well, Nick, let's just say you ...charm them." Nick grinned. "Depends on the woman. You, I can't exactly charm." Natalie raised an eyebrow. "That's because I know you, buster." Nick sighed. "Yeah. You really do... You're more intimate with my blood cells than any woman ought to be. You're on a first name basis with my DNA, you're..." Natalie started laughing. "Nick!" Nick looked at her innocently, "What?" Natalie shook her head. What could you do with someone like Nick? He could charm her off a cliff any day of the week, and he damn well knew it. "Just get on with the story. I want to know how your thief turned junior assistant becomes a world class pianist." Nick looked at her with a grin. "Don't you just, though." "I finished waxing the car," Mark informed Nick, as he plopped down wearily on the chair next to Nick. He folded his arms on the table and then lay his head down on his arms with a sigh. "It sure is a big car. It's miles from the back doors to the fins." Nick looked up from the ledger he was working in. Vampire or not, he was now a tax-paying member of the mortal community due to his job as a cop, and he had to make sure all his 'earned' money was accounted for and that there were no glitches where the infamous IRS could discover his 'other' money or activities. "That so?" Nick inquired amused. Mark sat up and leaned back in his chair, "Yeah. I thought it was pretty until I had to wax it. Why'd you get such a big car for just one of you?" "Trunk space," Nick replied with a grin. "Huh?" "Actually, it was the fins. I liked 'em. I liked the whole car. So I bought it," Nick amended. "Bet you never waxed it," Mark said a little crossly. "Oh, yes, I have. No one else besides me ever waxed that beauty until you." "Really?" "Really." "I think its time you bought a new car. A smaller car," Mark announced. "After all, it's three years old, and Mustangs are the bestest." Nick smiled in amusement. "Thanks, but I think I'll keep the Caddy." Mark shrugged. "Okay, but I'm too tired to do anything else today." He leaned over against Nick and surveyed the ledger. "Yuck." "Yeah," Nick agreed. He looked at Mark conspiratorially. "Let's do something else." Mark brightened. "Okay." Nick slammed the ledger shut and headed for the piano. He'd never realized how much joy he'd get out of his small assistant. Mark had been a breath of fresh air in his musty head. Like clock-work for the last month he had showed up at 4:30 weekdays and for one to two hours did anything and everything that Nick wanted. While Mark mainly did small errands and cleaning, fun had slipped into their daily routine, and that had included riding the motorcycle one evening (which they carefully never mentioned to his mother) and a side trip to the park. Most evenings Mark worked very hard, and Nick was proud of him-- and Mark worshipped Nick. It was something that made Nick a bit uneasy, but if he admitted it, he'd grown to love his freckle-faced shadow, too. He sat down at the piano and Mark joined him. "What did your Grandfather used to play?" Nick asked. He'd seen Mark eyeing the piano, and often touching it. He decided it was time to find out how deep Mark's interest in the piano was. Mark looked up at him in surprise. "Lot's of stuff. But he really liked ragtime." Nick put his hands on the keys and after a moment's thought began to play the Maple Leaf Rag. "Hey!" Mark said in surprise, and then he sat back and listened, his legs swinging to the music. The Peacherine rag followed, and Mark bounced in time to the music grinning ear to ear. As it came to a close, Mark whispered hopefully, "Do you know 'The Five Pennies'? Nick thought for a moment and then smiled. "You mean the one from the movie with Danny Kaye?" "I dunno. It's just one Grandpa used to sing about pennies that make you a millionaire." "That's the one," Nick said cheerfully, and with a grin he began to play it--from memory--since he'd only seen the movie once. "This little penny is to wish on, And make your wishes come true. This little penny is to dream on, And dream of all you can do." Mark joined him, suddenly surprising Nick. "This little penny is a dancing penny, See how it glitters and it glows; As bright as a whistle, Light as a thistle, Quick, quick as a wink, Up on it's twinkling toe, Oh, this little penny is to laugh on, To see that tears never fall. This little penny is the last little penny, And most important of all, For this penny is to love on, And where love is heaven is there, So with just five pennies, If they're these five pennies, You'll be a millionaire." Mark sat silently for a long time after the notes faded away. Nick waited patiently. "Grandpa used to sing that to me all the time," Mark said finally. "We'd sing that over and over. He even gave me five pennies. Said they were special and if I held onto them I'd be rich. But we aren't." "That's not the kind of rich he was talking about," Nick said softly. "Money doesn't make you happy. Being able to have hopes and dreams, Mark, is what life is all about. If you have a dream, nothing is impossible. "And being able to laugh, well, if you can't find anything to laugh about, life is miserable. Then there's love, it's the most important thing there is. That's what makes you rich, because that's what makes you happy--not money." Mark squinted up at Nick. "You sound like Grandpa." "Well, he's right," Nick said. "Well, then why is everything so hard?" "I don't know," Nick admitted, "it just is." "Yeah," Mark agreed with a sigh. "Do you still have the pennies?" Nick asked. Mark nodded sheepishly. "If you remember what they stand for, no matter how hard life is, you'll be happy." Mark looked at Nick suspiciously. "Sure." Nick shrugged, "It'll make sense one day, trust me." Mark grinned at that and ran his hands along the piano. "I suppose." Then he changed subjects, "Grandpa," Mark said, "would have liked you. You think like him." "I think I would have liked him, too," Nick agreed. "He was always trying to teach me. We used to sit and play, and he'd help me learn the keys," Mark said slowly, tentatively touching a key. Nick looked down at Mark. So he had not been mistaken in Mark's interest. "Did you like playing?" Mark nodded his head. "I even tried learning by myself after he died, but then Papa sold the piano." Nick digested what Mark wasn't saying. "Mark, do you want to learn to play the piano?" There was a long silence. "Yes..." It was barely a whisper, and looking down, Nick noticed that Mark's hands were suddenly clenched so tightly that they were white. He looked up at Nick, a sudden anguish on his face. "I can hear the music in my head, but I can't get it out. There's no place to get it out." Nick, looking into that small desperate face, remembered being a boy not so much older than Mark, whittling his first flute out of a birch and begging Frere Mattias to teach him to play. Because there had been music inside his head. So much music. And through the centuries he'd pursued it whenever he could. He'd sought out the best teachers, and learned. Though he could not play publicly, or share his love of music with the world, surely he could share it with one little boy who had the same dreams Nick had. Nick took a penny out of his pocket and handed it to Mark solemnly. "This penny, Mark is to dream on. It'll make *your* dream come true." Mark stared at the penny not understanding. "I'll teach you, Mark," Nick said simply. Mark looked at him, his hand suddenly clutching the penny tightly. "You hear it, too." Nick nodded, "I hear it, too." "You mean *you* taught him?" Natalie gasped sitting up in surprise. Nick smiled in genuine amusement, then it faded away as he stared into space at something only he could see. "Yes. I taught him. Everything I knew. I learned from the best, Nat. I studied with Beethoven, oh, I think it was 1810. He was truly innovative, Nat. Beethoven was doing incredible work with thematic integration and harmonic polarization. I know now it seems the way music ought to be, but at the time...it was new and exciting. Then I spent a year studying with Chopin in 1833, and in 1895 I sought out Debussey as well. He was fascinating because he worked constantly to give the clearest expression of his thoughts in the briefest space. It was absolutely brilliant. Debussey didn't have a fixed tonality and it gave his music a very dreamy--what they now call an impressionist quality. He was the greatest innovater of pianistic resources since Liszt..." Nick stopped at Natalie's slightly dazed expression. He grinned. "Sorry. I get carried away when I start talking about music." "I hadn't noticed," Nat said dryly. Nick laughed. "Anyway, I learned everything I could, and I taught Mark. He had this incredible gift inside him that was dying, and all I did was let it out into the fresh air and give it a chance." Natalie shook her head in stunned amazement. "You are always surprising me, Nick. You studied with some of the most famous and interesting people in history. You knew them, and you never even mentioned it. Why not?" "I don't know. I suppose it's because my life has been so long and there are so many memories, it all becomes overwhelming. I have learned to live in the now just to keep my balance. Maybe that's why. And frankly, most of those memories aren't that pleasant, so I try to not remember them. Which is harder than it sounds because everything I do reminds me of something or someone and I can easily lose myself in a memory if I'm not careful." Natalie grinned. "Yeah, I've noticed you have an ability to kind of...um, how do I put this? Zone out?" Nick laughed. "I guess I do zone out, don't I?" "But you do put all the knowledge to good use, Nick. Like with Mark." Natalie tilted her head and stared thoughtfully at Nick. "Why *did* you decide to teach Mark?" Nick was silent for a moment, then he met Natalie's eyes. "I love music. When I was a boy, I wanted to learn to play the flute, but my father didn't want me to. It wasn't my place. My place was to be a warrior--a knight. He had no patience for such foolishness as...music. But I learned anyway. I learned anyway I could--from anyone I could. When you feel it that strongly, you either find a way, or wither inside and die." He stared down at his hands for a moment, then went on in a low voice. "The irony of it all is that in the end, it was music that led me to my fate. On a windy cold day in Wales, I heard music. A harpist's music." "Gwyneth," Natalie said slowly beginning to see the pieces falling into place. "Gwyneth," Nick agreed. "And when all the dust settled, I was in the Holy Land fighting a war I didn't believe in. I lost my faith, Nat. I became bitter and cynical and angry, and the music inside died." Nick laughed mirthlessly. "And when I was at the lowest ebb of my life, I chose to become a vampire." Nick looked at Natalie with a bitter smile. "Eventually, I reached a point, where the music came back. If you have enough time, you can recover from your mistakes. Most of them, that is...," Nick shook his head. "But living forever actually had some advantages. It gave me the opportunity to learn, to become better, better than I had ever dreamed. And then there were all the advancements in knowledge. Instruments and music changed dramatically. New instruments gave me new ways of expressing the passion I felt inside, Natalie." Natalie reached out and took his hand. Nick smiled and looked at her. "I can't tell you how consumed I was by the development of instruments like the clavichord, harpsichord and then the piano. The depth of emotion you could wring out of a piano compared to a harpsichord was ... intoxicating. Music always had soul, but the new depths and heights that were achieved with the piano overwhelmed me. "I was immersed in the music. It was so exciting and wonderful. And the piano captured my heart like nothing else ever had. I had to learn it, Nat. I *had* to. And if I could study with a master, I did. Anytime I could, anywhere I could. I had time and money, and I used it. If there's anything worthwhile about being a vampire, its that I've been able pursue my passions and perfect my talents. Especially the piano--but also painting--they're so deeply ingrained they are part of my soul. No matter where I go, I can carry them with me. Because they're inside me. Living, breathing--keeping my alive--even when I feel dead. I can hear the music, see it, feel it with every fiber of my being." "And you found that same fire in Mark," Natalie said slowly. "Yes. It was like looking at myself. I knew how he felt. So I taught him. How could I not?" Natalie smiled. "You couldn't." She put her hand on her chin and stared at Nick. He wrinkled his brow at her look. "What?" "Just think," Natalie mused. "Mark is only one step removed from some of the greatest musicians of all time. All of that information, knowledge and talent straight from the masters to Mark. No wonder he's a world class pianist." "He's great, Nat, because he is talented and full of fire and passion. The information he got was just the frosting on his ability. After all, it was filtered," Nick pointed out dryly, "through me." "HA! Some filter. You, if you remember, have a photographic memory. You probably told him everything you learned verbatim." Nick was silent, and then a small smile slipped out. "Yes, I guess you're right, I did quote them word for word--well, sort of. I had to translate it." Natalie laughed. "Oh yeah, that would have been something. 'Now, Mark, today's lesson will be taught in French--18th century French--because I want to discuss techniques I learned from Chopin.' " Nick grinned, then laughed. "Well, we didn't exactly start with Chopin..." "Okay, Mark," Nick said as they sat side by side on the piano bench. "We're going to start with learning the keys, and exercises to strengthen your hands and limber them up. Some of it will seem kind of boring, but the key to being good at anything is being able to do the basic stuff in your sleep." "I am going to learn to play some songs, though, aren't I?" Mark asked. "What's the point of exercises, if you don't get to play something at the end? Grandpa taught me this neato Indian song." Mark put both hands down and played the short piece for Nick. "See?" he said with a grin. Nick grinned back. "Yes, we'll learn songs, but I've got to know what you know and don't know first and fill in all the gaps, so..." "It's alphabet and exercises," Mark said with a sigh. "Yeah." "Yeah, but you'll see. Not for long. I'm gonna play neat stuff." Nick laughed. "Yes, you are, but you're always going to exercise, too." Mark screwed up his nose. "No!" "Yeah, some things you always have to do to stay sharp." "I'll be sharp," Mark vowed. Nick watched, amazed, at Mark's enthusiasm for every piece of music that was put in front of him. Even the exercises were met and conquered with determination and excitement. And as the weeks and months and years went by his passion only seemed to grow. "Mark," Nick said one day as he played a menuet by Bach. It was only four lines long, but difficult, in all the ways Bach could be difficult. "Can you feel the music?" Mark looked up at Nick. "What do you mean?" "What sensation does it give you?" Nick asked. He already knew Mark felt it, but he wasn't sure he'd identified what music did to him. Mark closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "Flying," he said finally. "It feels like flying. Through clouds," he added. Nick smiled. "What else?" "What d'ya mean?" Mark asked. Didn't flying cover it? "This particular passage," Nick said, "is light. It's full of air. It floats. That's why it feels like flying. What about the Brahms piece you just played? What was it like?" Mark grinned. "It was like being in a forest. Dark and quiet. Peaceful." "Yes," Nick said. "Every piece has feeling and sensation, it evokes things deep inside of you. When you play, Mark, *feel* it." "Want some more coffee?" Nick asked, noticing that Natalie was hugging her empty coffee cup. "Wha...? Nick, don't change subjects like that. I was busy feeling the music there!" Nick grinned. "Yeah, Mark was...is amazing. He was so good, so talented, and from the first he knew he wanted to be a concert pianist." "Goal-oriented, huh?" Nick nodded. "And without a chance of making it. Do you know how hard it is to become a concert pianist, Nat?" Natalie shook her head. "About as tough as it is to become an Olympic ice skater. There are so many competitions at every level. The U.S. has local, state and national competitions that weed out thousands of hopeful, gifted kids." Nick drummed his fingers on the table. "And then there's the small fact that he and his mother had no money for the type of teaching he needed, or a chance to attend a conservatory. Not only that, but she's Irish. Practical. She wanted him to have a normal life and not put too many hopes in a dream that might not work--probably wouldn't work." "So what did you do?" Natalie asked curious. Nick grinned. "Well, I cheated. There's no use in having money, if you don't spend it once in a while." "Naturally," Natalie said dryly. Nick anxiously checked his watch and hurried faster down the hall. He hated that the days were getting longer. It had been touch and go getting to Mark's first solo piano recital. He slipped through the stage door. Mark met his gaze immediately from where he stood by the curtain, ready to go out onto stage. His spine sagged in relief and a huge smile lit his face showing off the space where a tooth was conspicuously missing. "I didn't think you'd get here," Mark whispered. Nick grinned. "You didn't think I would miss this, did you?" "No, but the sun's still up." "In times of national emergency," Nick informed him with an upraised eyebrow, "I do go out." "I'm an emergency?" "The only one," Nick assured him. "Go get 'em tiger." Mark grinned and turned and walked out onto the stage with easy grace for an eleven year old. Nick watched him with pride. He knew Mark was going to make his dreams come true. Something Nick could only hope for himself. Margaret O'Donnell slipped up besides Nick and tilted her head to look up at Nick. "Mr. Knight," she said. "Mrs. O'Donnell," Nick replied with a smile. "D'you think he'll do good?" she asked suddenly nervous and yet beaming with pride. "He'll do great. And if things go well, he'll get offered a chance to join a conservatory." Margaret shook her head. "I can't afford it, you know that." "Scholarship," Nick reminded her. "I want him to have a good academic foundation," she insisted, "a normal life. This...," she said pointing out towards the stage, "this is a dream." "Just think about it," Nick whispered as Mark began his recital. "So, did she?" Nat asked with pursed lips. Nick grinned. "Yeah, she did. He wowed them at the concert, and he was offered a scholarship at a great Institute. Imagine, having your college scholarship all locked up and taken care of at age eleven. It was great, and the older Mark got, the better he got. The only thing he didn't have at home was a piano, so guess where he spent hours practicing?" "Gee, let me guess, could it be your place?" Natalie asked with a laugh. "Mine. I just gave him a key, and he'd practice day and night." "Day and night? Hmm, how'd you ever get any sleep." "I soundproofed the bedroom." "Are you serious?" Natalie asked laughing. "Serious," Nick said smugly. "I should have known." Natalie sighed and stretched. Then she yawned. "I'm going to have to go, I've got to be in early tonight." She picked up her purse as Nick stood and came around to hug her. "But I am looking forward to the concert Friday. Does he know you'll be there?" Nick, in the act of kissing her on the brow, stilled. "Nick," Natalie asked twisting around to look up at him. "No," he said softly. "Why not? Oh, Nick...," Natalie whispered, "you didn't just disappear on him, did you?" Nick walked away from her abruptly and circled the table. At last, safe behind it's bulk he looked at her. "I had to." "But...didn't he guess about you? Being so close for so long?" Nick shook his head. "No." "So, you just disappeared? That must have been so hard for you...and for Mark." Nick shrugged and looked away. "It was hard for me, it always is, but...it's better that way. Safer. I don't know how Mark felt about it." Natalie walked around the table slowly, while Nick watched her warily. It amazed her how he could go from being friend and companion to a cornered wild animal in the blink of an eye. He let her touch him and after a moment she circled behind him and put her arms around him, but he stood stiff in her embrace. She leaned her head against his back. "Tell me what happened?" "I thought you had to go," he said stiffly. "I'll sleep on the couch." "Nat..." Nick protested. "Nick," Natalie said. "Don't you know that you were that boy's hero? You were his father figure and friend and mentor. You were everything to him. You made his dreams possible. You helped open up his soul and find the music...and then you just disappeared." Nick turned to stone in her embrace. "I know," he said thickly. "And he was everything to you." Silence swallowed every sound in the room as they stood locked together for what seemed like eternity to Natalie. "Yes...," Nick whispered finally. Natalie let go of Nick, walked around in front of him, and took his hand. Nick looked at her but did not actively resist. Encouraged, Natalie pulled him to the couch and pushed him down into the soft leather seat. Nick seemed to sink into the cushion like a drowning man going down for the last time. Natalie sat down next to him and took his hand once more. "What happened?" she asked. There was neither condemnation nor accusation in her tones. Nick stared moodily down at her hand. "It was several things, actually, just coming to a head. I had been there since '64, and after a while you just have to move on. It's the way it is. I'd rejected two promotions, and was getting to the point where it was time. It had been eight years, Nat. That's a long time for me to stay in one place. Even so, I really didn't want to leave." "Why?" Natalie asked, "because of Mark?" "Yes, because of Mark. But also because LaCroix left me almost entirely alone. I think I saw him three or four times during that period. When I first moved there and signed on with the police, he dropped in for a little chat." Nick shook his head at something that caused a shadow to slip across his face, but Natalie didn't pursue it. She could guess. "Anyway," Nick continued, "that was in '64. He didn't return to Chicago until the democratic convention in '68. I know he knew about Mark, but for some reason he left it alone. I don't know why--it really wasn't like him. I do remember I was prepared to leave town immediately if he even made the slightest move in Mark's direction. But he didn't. Perhaps it was because of what happened with Daniel." Nick shrugged, "I really don't know. I just know I was thankful for it. But I was pushing my luck. It would only be a matter of time before he would be back--and if he thought Mark was too important to me-- he would do something. I wasn't prepared to let that happen. "Then I was up for another promotion. One that I really couldn't turn down. Too good of a record, too many refusals to promotions before that, and my Captain was getting...suspicious. Enough things weren't adding up. It was time to go. So I went." "Without telling Mark," Natalie said. "No--I told him. He was well on his way, but I wanted to make sure he got through to college. So I made up this nice plausible story and gave him an address where he could write. Natalie, he was fifteen at the time and just starting to reach his potential. It was the hardest thing I ever did. I arranged for him to study with the best teachers and I also bought him a piano--and," Nick laughed, "don't think his mother didn't have a fit about that." Natalie looked at him quizzically, but Nick shook his head and went on. "Mark was also getting old enough that I was afraid he would start noticing things he shouldn't. Why he didn't before, I don't know." "I wonder if he did notice something?" Natalie asked thoughtfully. "Kids, you know, are very observant." "I don't know. If he did, he didn't give any indication. But he could have. I let Mark get closer to me than anyone had in a long time. The only person who has gotten closer is...you," Nick said softly. "So how did you ever tell him goodbye?" Mark stared at Nick with disbelief. He was almost able to look Nick straight in the eyes. He'd grown a lot the last year. "I can't believe you'd leave!" Mark said his voice cracking ever so slightly. "I have to, Mark," Nick said softly. "But you can't!" Mark said wildly and turned and walked away to stare out the window into the dark night. Nick sighed, he'd known this wouldn't be easy, and it was harder than he'd expected. But then he'd never really said goodbye before. "Mark," Nick said slowly, "the reason I've been able to support you was because of family money. I never wanted it, you know. That's why I became a cop. I left it behind--as much as was possible--but now there's nobody else. I have to do this. I can do a lot of good with it." Mark swung around to stare at him, tears glittering in his eyes. "Why can't you do it from here?" "Because," Nick said patiently, "everything is in Seattle. That's where the family made the money, that's where the business is. I can't relocate it here. Even if I could, it requires that I spend a lot of time traveling." "What'll I do without you?" Mark asked. "You won't be without me. You can write. I'll just be a little farther away. When I'm in the states, I'll call you." "It's not the same," Mark said flatly. "You won't be there for the concerts. You won't be around to tell me all the stuff that none of the other teachers ever seem to know. You ...won't be...here." His voice broke and Mark turned away. Nick walked across the room and slowly put his hands on Mark's strong, broad shoulders. He couldn't help but realize again that Mark was almost a man. "I know." Mark shrugged out of his grip angrily. "You don't know!" he shouted turning to stare at Nick. "I need you! *I* need you! You've always been there. My own Dad was never there even when he was here, but you've *always* been here." Nick grabbed Mark by the shoulders and pulled him into his arms. Mark began to cry against his shoulder. "I will always be here, Mark," Nick said softly. "Because I love you. I will always be here in your heart and in your soul. Whenever you hear the music..." Nick's own voice cracked slightly, "when you hear the music, you'll hear me." Mark buried his head in Nick's shoulder and cried harder. "Do you remember when we first sat down at the piano and I asked you if you wanted to play the piano?" Nick asked. Mark looked up at Nick, his face streaked with tears. After a moment he nodded." "You said that you could hear the music in your head." "Yes," Mark said slowly. "And then when I said I'd teach you, do you remember what you said to me?" Nick asked him. Mark stared at him, remembering that moment suddenly so clearly that it surprised him. "I said you hear it, too." "And I do. I *hear* it with the same passion that you do. When you play, Mark, when you hear what's in your soul, I'll be there. I will always be there. Do you understand?" Mark stared at Nick. "Yes, I understand, but I still don't want you to go. Don't go, Nick!" Nick hugged Mark to him tightly. He felt Mark's arms go round him and hold him in a desperate grip, as if by holding him, Mark could keep him there--keep him from leaving him. "Mark," Nick said softly, and after a moment, Mark sighed, and loosened his grip. With reluctance, Nick let Mark go and reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box and gave it to Mark. Mark opened it and stared. Inside were five pennies mounted on velvet--they were 1965 mint condition pennies--the year they had met. Mark looked up at Nick with tears in his eyes. Mark," Nick said softly, "this is to remind you of where you started and what your dreams are. Never give up, and never forget what is important. It isn't the money or glory or fame. It's the people you know, the dreams you achieve, and the love you give and receive in your life. Mark laughed through his tears. "You told me someday I would understand," he said after a moment. Nick smiled but said nothing. "Will you come back to see me"? Mark asked. "Whenever I can," Nick said, his throat tight at the lie. Mark hugged him as hard as he could, unable to look into Nick's eyes. Nick staring into Mark's expressive eyes, recognized that Mark knew somehow, that Nick was never coming back. And it hurt. Perhaps it was wisdom Mark had learned from his father's desertion. Nick only knew that he loved Mark as if he were the son he'd never had. And he would give almost anything to stay and be that father that Mark had never had. The realization sent pain through him anew in dizzying waves. And looking into Mark's eyes, he knew that Mark needed him as much as he needed Mark. "Then that's what I'm going to wish and dream for..." Mark whispered. And Nick felt his own heart break. "Did he write?" Natalie asked. "Yes, and I did, too, for two years until he went to the conservatory. Then I cut the ties. He had other people to take my place and he was really on his way. I knew he was going to make it. He was so gifted, Nat, that there really wasn't any doubt. Oh, I've kept an eye on him, but only from a distance. He's had a wonderful career, and I've been lucky enough to make it to a couple of concerts over the years. He really has achieved his dreams, Nat. He's a wonderful pianist." "Did you go to Seattle? Natalie asked curiously. "No." Nick's smile was bitter and twisted. "Aristotle arranged it for me. He set it up so that my mail was forwarded to me--for a rather steep price. But it was worth it." "So where did you go?" "I actually went to Viet Nam. I stayed there until 'Nam fell." "So one day, he sent a letter and it came back with 'addressee unknown'," Natalie said softly. "Yes," Nick admitted. "He was on the solo concert tour circuit already and becoming well-known. There was a chance that if I was seen with him that someone would recognize me from another life, Nat. Or worse, decide to start researching his benefactor. It would have been a great human interest story, you know." "I know," Natalie said. She put her head on Nick's shoulder and snuggled closer, trying to comfort him. Nick put his arm around her and kissed her forehead absently. "It just seems so unfair. So hard. I don't know how you bear it, Nick." Nick shrugged. "You just do." "I wonder if he ever looked for you?" "I don't know... I hope not, but knowing Mark..." "He probably did," Natalie finished softly, sadly. ****** Natalie smoothed the black velvet dress over her hips and turned to check her reflection in the mirror. The dress was timeless in design--deliberately--and the neckline exposed more cleavage than she was used to. "Yeah, Lambert," she muttered, "straight from lab coat and scrubs to ... looking like you walked out of another time or place--or" she added with a laugh, "a romance novel cover." The neckline, though not overly risque, was still a daring plunge for Natalie Lambert, M.D. She firmed her shoulders and carefully put on her earrings and necklace. She felt some trepidation wearing such a dress, but tonight was special. Tonight she wanted to make Nick feel as human and as happy as possible. She wanted nothing to mar his joy in seeing and hearing Mark. Natalie had been unable to think about anything else ever since Nick had told her about Mark O'Donnell. It just seemed so unfair and wrong that Mark had never seen Nick since that farewell in Chicago, and that Nick denied himself Mark's love and friendship--because of who and what he was. That he had decided to attend the concert (and take her with him) was an indication to Natalie of how much this meant to him--and how much he missed Mark. Well, at least Nick would get to share the music with him tonight, and she was going to be there with him--and maybe, just maybe--she could convince him to see Mark. If not, the least she could do was make him feel like the luckiest man at the concert. For he deserved it. Nick was, in Natalie's estimation, a true hero. Not only for Mark, but for her. Without Nick, she wouldn't be alive, and without Nick, Mark wouldn't be a concert pianist. She idly wondered how many other people's lives would be the lesser without his intervention; how many people's lives had Nick made richer just by being there for them. And, Natalie thought in frustrated amusement, the only one who didn't see his worth, was...Nick. The doorbell rang, and Natalie picked up her wrap. Maybe, she thought, as she turned out the light and answered the door, I can help him see some of it tonight. She looked at Nick, and took a breath at how well he looked in his back silk suit. And Nick could only stare in awe at Natalie. She truly was beautiful. "Milady," Nick said huskily, "your coach awaits." A slow smile curved Natalie's lips, and she reached up to kiss his cheek. "You look wonderful, Nick," she whispered. Nick could only stare in bemusement. "Shall we?" he asked finally and offered Natalie his arm. Natalie took it graciously, feeling slightly giddy, and they left. Nick seated Natalie in the tenth row of the concert hall, on the left center side. "The only place to sit if you want to see a pianist," he'd murmured against her hair. "By the way, have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" Natalie smiled up at him. "No. Could you?" Nick laughed and caught her hand to his lips. He kissed her hand then turned it over to press a kiss into her palm. "You are beautiful, Natalie. Thank you for being in my life." "Actually," Natalie said feeling suddenly far from casual, "I think it's the other way around." Nick looked at her quizzically. "I don't think you have any idea, Nick, how much you've changed my life, or for that matter, how much you've changed so many lives." Nick shook his head. "Nat," he protested. Natalie put her hand against his lips and stopped him. "I'm alive, because of you." Nick stopped breathing (not that he needed to, but he stopped anyway). "I'm alive. And I'm very happy. Because of you." They stared at each other, and what Nick might have said was pre-empted by the lights dimming. Nick squeezed Natalie's hand tightly in his but said nothing more. They turned their attention to the stage, and Natalie felt Nick slip into some other world as the conductor came out to introduce their special guest pianist--Mark O'Donnell. Natalie looked at Mark, trying to see in the tall, mature man with red hair that was beginning to show some gray in his temples, the boy Nick had described. Dressed in a tuxedo, she found it a little difficult to make the transition. But when he sat down and began to play...then Natalie could see it in the intense way he hunched over the piano, and in the way the music reached out and touched her very soul. 'I can hear the music,' Nick had said with such passion, 'and so can Mark.' And suddenly, Natalie could, too. Just a little. Just for a moment, the way that Nick could. The music flowed over and around them. It literally took Natalie's breath away. She glanced sideways at Nick from time to time, but he was in another universe. One that Natalie could only glimpse or guess at, one where he and a small eight-year-old boy could hear such wonderful, passionate music. One Natalie knew, that most people could never imagine or comprehend. She'd always known he loved music. She just hadn't realized how much of it was his soul. Not until now. Never until now. All too soon, the concert was over. Far too soon for Nick. As Mark had played, he'd recognized nuances in his style and technique that came straight from Nick...as well as those that Nick had learned from. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. If only Mark knew. But he never would. Some things Nick had never told him--how could he? And now, he never would. Nick's heart twisted and lurched in his chest at the pain and joy hammering him. Joy at Mark's achievement, and Nick's pride in it. Pain at the loss. Pain that he could never talk with Mark again, or hug him, or share the music as they had for those few precious years. He shouldn't have come, and yet he couldn't stay away. Somewhere close to tears, in the midst of the thunderous applause and standing ovation, Nick turned to Natalie and hugged her. Natalie looked up in smiling question, but Nick just shook his head. There were no words to describe his feelings, or the deluge of emotions he was drowning in. He took Natalie's hand in his and led her out in utter silence. "Nick," Natalie said boldly as they walked into the lobby, "I think you should go see him. Go backstage and see him." Nick stopped and was utterly still in a way that radiated his alieness--that something that made him other than human. Then he looked at Natalie. "No." "Why not?" Natalie persisted, "I know you want to see him, talk to him. You are so much alike, the music..." "NO!" Nick said angrily and pulled her abruptly along and out of the hall, into the street where throngs milled, and no one listened. He stopped and met her gaze. "I can't, Natalie. I...can't. Can you imagine the pain he went through when I just disappeared? Can you imagine the anger and betrayal he felt? I can't and I'm not going to open those wounds for him again. And more importantly, there's the other facts, the reason why I left in the first place. To protect him, and protect myself." Natalie looked up into Nick's face and watched all the pain and lonesome longing wash across his face. His words said in quiet, forceful anger, barely dented her conviction. "But you need to see him, and he needs to see you, Nick," Natalie said softly, breaking across the torrent of Nick's words. He stopped dead and stared at her, then looked away. "It doesn't matter. It can't happen. It's nothing new, and nothing that won't happen again." He shut his jaw and held it tightly against the tearing pain in his throat that threatened to destroy him. Natalie put her arms around Nick and held him tight, oblivious of the crowd flowing around them. The block of ice that was Nick finally melted and with a sigh he put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I appreciate the thought, Natalie, but it isn't possible. Then he would know that I'm...different, he would learn too much. It's just not safe. It's better to let him go on with his life. Leave it alone, Natalie. Leave it alone..." They stood there, tears glittering in their eyes as they stared at each other, alone in the universe. Then Nick leaned down and gently kissed Natalie on the lips. "But, thank you." Natalie smiled, feeling that Nick's sense of honor and chivalry were as misguided as they could be, but for the moment, there was nothing she could do. "Would you like something to eat?" Nick asked abruptly? Natalie smiled and allowed him to change the subject. "That would be nice, thank you." Nick took her hand gently in his, and the next hour passed in a golden hazy bubble, which neither tried to burst again. Nick took her to a very expensive restaurant and fed her food fit for a queen, while he drank a very expensive wine. They talked with fervent intensity, about music, about the concert, and Nick even talked of some of his and Mark's escapades, They laughed and cried, but they were both careful to avoid any mention of seeing Mark. They were careful to avoid anything that might shatter their mood. For Nick was happy, as if he had somehow shed his dark past--if only for a few hours--in his love of music, and Natalie was determined that it last for as long as possible. There must be something in the air, or perhaps the music Mark had played, Natalie thought giddily as hours passed and they laughed and talked and danced. The night was perfect... It must have been magic, because Nick was still reluctant to take her home, when at last they left the restaurant and took her instead to the loft. He lit every candle he had and played the piano for her with an intensity and beauty that made her cry. Mark might be a world class pianist, one of the best performing, but Nick...Nick was better, and even Natalie could tell. Night waned as Natalie leaned against Nick and drank white wine while he played, finding solace in the music's depth. Finding some peace in sharing with Natalie the music that he heard in his soul. Only as dawn neared, did Nick at last take Natalie home. "Thank you, Natalie," he said huskily as he bowed over her hand and kissed it with regal elegance at her door. "Thank you," Natalie whispered, and reached up to twine both hands around his neck and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, full of love and understanding. Nick looked at her, then pulled her abruptly into his arms and kissed her deeply, his hand tangling in her hair. When he let go, his eyes were tinted with gold, and his smile twisted with pain. "Goodnight," he whispered and vanished. Natalie blinked and leaned out into the hall and looked both ways. "How does he *do* that?" she muttered and after a frustrated moment, sighed and shut the door. She walked across the room and stared out the window at the sky just beginning to brighten with a hint of the coming dawn and chewed thoughtfully on her fingernail. The night had been enchanted, from the music, to the food, and the very special private concert Nick had given her. Natalie's emotions were full and brimming over. She had never enjoyed a night more, but never had she felt so certain that the ending of a fairy tale was so unsatisfactory. This was one story that needed a different ending. It needed a rewrite. For all Nick's brilliance, wisdom and knowledge, he was sometimes completely oblivious to his real needs. Or perhaps, Natalie, thought with sudden insight, he was terrified of letting anything that remotely resembled happiness through the chinks in his rusty old armor. He was afraid. Afraid of being rejected, afraid of being hurt. He was sure Mark hated him for what he had done. He was terrified Mark would despise him for deserting him, for lying to him, for being...a vampire. The whole argument about vampires was just a smoke screen. A semi-accurate smoke-screen, Natalie supposed, but still...a smoke screen for what was really going on in his confused, lonely mind. Natalie's heart broke for Nick and a tear slipped down her face. After a moment, she straightened, turned and stared at her computer terminal. "Why the hell not?" she asked herself. This story needs a happy ending and I'm in the perfect position to do it," and having made the decision, walked to the computer, sat down and logged on. Forty minutes later, having used her official jurisdiction in a highly illegal manner, Natalie obtained the information she wanted, and with a smile, logged off. She picked up the phone and using her official capacity once more in a definitely shady way, discovered that Mark O'Donnell would be checking out of his hotel later this morning, and that he had an afternoon flight out of Toronto. Natalie tapped her fingers lightly against the computer screen as she stared out into the brilliant dawn now sweeping into her apartment and wondered how early was considered too early to visit Mark O'Donnell. A glance at the clock told her it was almost six. Time for bed, she thought mentally, if this was a normal day. But it wasn't. No, today it was time for action. With that, she got up and went into the bedroom. Her beautiful velvet evening gown was thrown in a heap across her bed as she hastily changed into jeans and T-shirt. Grabbing a jacket, she left before she lost her courage. Arriving in the plush lobby of the Plaza Hotel, Natalie walked across the glittering marble floor to the courtesy phone with her footsteps echoing loudly every step of the way. She stood staring at the phone, feeling her heart hammer loud enough in her chest to be heard three blocks away. She took a deep breath and picked up the phone. "Would you connect me with room 610?" Natalie said before her courage evaporated. She looked at her watch. It was now almost seven. The phone began to ring. "Please," she breathed, "pick up." "Hello?" A slightly sleepy voice asked. It was a deep voice. Pleasant. Natalie knew instinctually that this *was*the right thing to do. "Mr. O'Donnell?" Natalie asked and crossed her fingers. "Yes?" Mark replied puzzled. She took a deep breath, "When you hear the music, Mark, do you remember that he is with you, that he still hears it, too?" There was an intake of breath on the other end. Silence. Natalie bit her lip suddenly terrified. "Do you know where he is?" Mark asked at last, the incredible hope in his voice apparent even to Natalie. "Yes," Natalie said feeling the band in her chest ease. There was absolute silence on the other end. "I'm in the lobby, Mr. O'Donnell--Mark, and we need to talk. Now." "I'll be there in five minutes. How will I recognize you?" "I'm the one wearing jeans and a T-shirt standing by the courtesy phone. My name is Natalie. In fact," Natalie said looking around, "I'm the only one here." "I'll be right there," Mark said and hung up. Natalie started to shake. "I hope I know what I'm doing," she muttered. "Nick is gonna kill me." It seemed like forever, as Natalie paced back and forth by the phone in the empty lobby, but true to his word, Mark stepped out of the elevator in a mere five minutes. There was stubble on his face, and his hair looked a bit ruffled, but otherwise, no one could tell he'd been roused from his bed only minutes ago. Natalie met his gaze across the room and he strode across the plush carpet to meet her with eager hope naked on his face. He held out his hand, "I'm Mark O'Donnell." Natalie took his hand and shook it. "Natalie Lambert," she said quietly and led him to sit in deep chairs in a small alcove. Mark looked at her and spoke in a rush, "Do you know how hard I looked for him, how long...? I looked everywhere. I hired detectives. I even went to Seattle myself. He just vanished. Into thin air...." He stopped at Natalie's smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess you don't know--how could you? I didn't mean to pour that out on you. It's just that it's unbelievable...that out of the blue like this...he's still out there." "Actually, Mark--can I call you Mark?" Mark nodded, and Natalie continued, "I do have some comprehension of what you went through--well at least an idea." "He'd never even been in Seattle," Mark said softly. "It was all a lie." He turned pained eyes on her, "Why?" "That," Natalie said grimly, "is why we are having this talk. If I take you to him, I don't want you to pour out all that anger and pain on him. He doesn't need it, and you don't need it." "Anger?" Mark said bewildered, "No. I just want to understand. Nick was...he was everything to me. He was my hero, my father, my friend and teacher. He was everything and he loved me, through thick and thin. I just want to see him and hug him and tell him I love him no matter what." "No matter what?" Natalie said softly. "Can you absolutely agree to that part?" Mark looked at Natalie, as if seeing her for the first time. "It's that important?" Natalie nodded. "No matter what," Mark said. "I just want to see him, to share with him all the wonderful things that have happened because he took me in and taught me the piano. I just want to see him, Natalie. I've missed him every day of my life. I've missed him so much..." Mark stared at the ground and then spoke in a low voice. "I remember the day he told me he was leaving. I held onto him as if that would keep him there." Mark looked at Natalie, tears in his eyes. "You know what? I felt something from Nick that day, something I didn't understand for a long time. But it was as if he was desperately lonely--far more so than I. And that he needed me--loved me--more than even my own father did. I know I'm not saying this well, but I understood so much and yet so little that day. A lot of it I've understood as I've grown up and become a father myself. I only knew that he was unreachable that day, as if on a peak far away from me. Lonely and alone. Just...gone. And then he really was. I just want to see him again. Have him be a part of my life again. Natalie wanted to reach out and comfort him. She had felt that, too. Sometimes Nick was so distant, as if holding himself apart would make the losses he suffered more bearable. Mark's pain and hope warred in his eyes. "Tell me where he is." "I'll do better, I'll take you there," Natalie said, "but first there are some things you have to know. There are a couple of ground rules we've got to establish to keep you safe. Nick'll kill me otherwise." Mark looked at her curiously. "He doesn't know you're here, does he?" Natalie shook her head. "No, in fact we had a rather big argument over it last night after the concert." Mark's face lit up. "He was at the concert?" "Yes. Tenth row, left center," Natalie said. "You were absolutely wonderful, by the way. Nick was in heaven." "He was at the concert," Mark said numbly. "But he wouldn't see me." He stared at his hands for a moment, then looked at Natalie, "Why?" Natalie looked around the empty lobby, and decided it wasn't empty enough for her. "Not here," she said anxiously, "in the car." "Let me get my wife," Mark said, "I'd love for her to meet Nick." Natalie shook her head. "No. You can't. This is dangerous enough just for you to see Nick. No one else can come. No one else can know. You can't ever tell anybody about this--about what you are going to learn today." Mark stared at her, his eyes narrowing. "What's so dangerous? What is this about? I knew Nick for seven years. Nothing ever happened. This is crazy!" "Nothing ever happened, because Nick made damn sure it didn't happen. And when it got to the point where it was dangerous, he left. That's why," Natalie said fiercely. "And it broke his heart. He stayed in contact as long as he dared." "You're telling me that he left to protect me?" Mark asked slowly. "Yes, and to protect him." Natalie looked at her watch. "Look, I don't want to talk about this here. It's too open. I'll tell you in the car." Mark stared at her, wondering if he should trust this woman or not. Maybe she was using this as a ploy to kidnap him. He was suddenly unsure of her. Natalie looked into his eyes and saw his sudden suspicions. She sighed and opened her purse. "Trust me," she said pulling out her ID and showing him. "I am telling the truth. I'm normally a very above- board, trustworthy person. I give depositions every day. I spend all my time working with the police. Nick is my only bad habit." Mark looked at her, then her badge. "Nick is a bad habit, huh?" Natalie grinned. "The worst. My life was so normal until I met him--and since then nothing, and I mean nothing, has ever been the same." "I know what you mean," Mark said and smiled. Natalie looked at him, "I guess you do. But not like this. After today, your view of life will never be the same, either." With that, Natalie got up. "Come on, we'll talk on the way." "I'd at least better call and tell my wife that I'll be gone for a while, okay? She's going to wake up and wonder where I went." "Okay, but don't tell her where or who." Mark shrugged his shoulder, "Okay." Minutes later he walked out of the hotel and stepped into Natalie's Taurus. As they drove away, Natalie turned and smiled at him. "Thanks for trusting me. I know I sound deranged, but when you deal with Nick, life gets a bit that way." "So," Mark said reasonably, "tell me why." "Nick is different," Natalie said. "I'm sure that you probably noticed that about him." "Well, he was the best pianist I ever heard, and yet he never, ever played in public," Mark said. "More different," Natalie said, "than that. Though his abilities on the piano are a result of his difference." "Such as?" Mark asked. "His allergy," Natalie said. "I'm sure you remember his allergy." "To the sun, yeah, I remember. It didn't seem to slow him down much, though." "True," Natalie said going blithely through a mostly red light. "But it's just one of the signs of what is really going on." "And what is going on?" Mark said, trying to get Natalie to say what she obviously was having a hard time saying. Natalie glanced at him briefly took a deep breath and spit it out. "When I met Nick, he was DOA on my examination table. He came back to life right in front of me. He opened his eyes, sat up and literally scared the hell out of me. That's what's so different about Nick. He was there because he was tossed a pipe bomb. You or I would be very dead from that. He was just temporarily incapacitated. He can't be killed by the things that would kill us. Mark," Natalie said carefully and succinctly, "Nick is immortal. He's lived a very long time and seen and done more than you can possibly imagine." Mark laughed, "Oh, come on! You want me to believe that Nick is living forever? That's a fairy tale, Natalie." Natalie pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked it. She turned and glared at Mark, "No, it's not," she said fiercely. "And, yes, I expect you to believe it. When you see him, you'll have to believe it. He doesn't look one day older than the last time you saw him. He is immortal, and for Nick, living forever is living in hell." Mark stared at her, stunned. "You're serious..." "Deadly, and so should you be." She fumbled through her purse and pulled out an envelope. She opened the envelope and rifled through a batch of photos, finally extracting a picture. She handed it to Mark. He stared at the photo in disbelief. Staring back at him from the photo was Natalie, encircled in Nick's arms. And it was Nick, without a doubt. Nick's image was burned in Mark's mind. As she said, Nick didn't look any older. Only the clothes and hair were different. On the bottom of the photo, the date stamp plainly read: 06/27/1994. He looked at Natalie. "It isn't possible." Natalie took a breath. "Trust me, anything is possible. Absolutely anything." "How can he be immortal?" "That," Natalie answered, shifting the car back into gear and pulling out into the light Saturday morning traffic, "is up to Nick to tell you, if he decides to. He may not. If he doesn't, then let it go. Nick has a lot of secrets--and sometimes it's better to not know them. Safer. Saner, come to think of it. You don't have to go through such huge reality adjustments." Mark stared at her in disbelief. "Anyway, it is beside the point. You and Nick need to see each other, you have both missed each other for long enough. It's time that something good happened. You both deserve some happiness here. Nick lives with enough guilt and pain as it is. He just deserves to be reminded once in a while that he is a good guy." Mark stared at her. "But you know." "Yes." "And it isn't dangerous for you?" Natalie thought she heard just the slightest tone of jealousy in his query. Natalie glanced at him and then looked back at the road. "It is dangerous. I damn near died because I know. I still might. Knowing Nick is dangerous." "But it's worth the risk," Mark said shrewdly. Natalie smiled and looked at him. "Oh, yes," she said. "You...love him," Mark said incredulously. "I think I have ever since he came to life on my table," Natalie said. "I can't help it." "But you're not going to tell me more." "No. I've told you all you need to know. Nick loves you, he keeps an eye on your career, and he'd give anything to see you, but he won't take a single step in that direction--he's so stubborn, you know. So I'm doing it for him. Let's just hope he doesn't get really, really angry. Nick likes to think his decisions are royal decrees. I like to think he's stuck in a very deep rut and can't see straight. Sometimes he just needs someone to whack him on the side of the head. He can be *so* blind." Mark blinked in surprise, and then raised an eyebrow. Somehow he suspected that in a battle of wills, Natalie gave as good as she got. Natalie pulled up and parked next to what appeared to Mark to be an old warehouse. "You ready?" she asked. "Here?" Mark said, suddenly feeling like he was eight all over again and caught red-handed with two apples and a hunk of cheese in his pocket. "Here," Natalie said and got out of the car. Mark followed Natalie across the gravel to the elevator and watched her punched in a security code. The elevator door opened reluctantly under her hands. Natalie hesitated, and then turned to Mark. "Wait in the elevator until I tell you to come out, okay? Nick has no clue. He might need a bit of calming down first." Mark nodded and followed her into the elevator. It seemed to take forever to rise, and Mark wondered if he was going insane to believe a single word this small, petite and very determined woman had told him. But then he remembered the photograph--and her words. No one could have known what Nick had said to him just before he had left. The elevator stopped and Natalie nodded to him as she pulled the door open and let it fall shut behind her. And he waited. "Nick," Natalie said without surprise, seeing Nick sitting at the piano staring at the keys moodily. He looked up, startled. "What are you doing here?" "I thought a lot about what you said last night, Nick, and I still think you need to see Mark. You need him--and he needs you." Nick's face closed down and he turned away. "I've already said all I'm going to say on the subject, Nat." "I know, Nick, but I haven't," Natalie said. She went and knelt by the piano and put her hand on his knee. "Nick, don't you know by now that you are one of the good guys?" Nick closed his eyes against her words in anguish. "Nick," Natalie whispered, "all your arguments were good, but there's only one problem." Nick looked down at her, but said nothing. "You're hiding behind them. You're afraid that Mark will hate you. That when he looks in your eyes he won't love you--because you left." "Because of what I am," Nick said bitterly. "No. Because you can't bear to lose his love." "And I would, if he were to know." "No," Natalie said confidently. "Because he knows you. You're his hero and you always will be no matter what. You gave him the world, Nick. It won't hurt you to let him love you." She got up and walked back to the elevator, and only then did Nick realize that he could hear another heart beating. "Natalie," Nick said fearfully, "you...didn't." Natalie smiled brilliantly at him. "Oh, but I did. He doesn't know what you are, Nick. That's up to you. You can tell him, or not. All he knows is that you are immortal. That you don't look a day older. And you know what? He doesn't care. He just wants to see you." Natalie flung the elevator door back, and Mark stepped out, blinking at the candlelight. He looked around and saw Nick frozen solid by the piano. They stared at one another in absolute silence. Then Mark choked on a sob and ran to Nick, threw his arms around him and hugged him as if he would never let him go. "Oh, Mark...," Nick said, in astonishment, then in joy. "Mark." And he put his arms tightly around Mark and closed his eyes. Natalie smiled at the beautiful expression on his face. There was such joy radiating from both of them. She stepped into the elevator and left. "See, Nick," she said as the elevator groaned it's way down to the ground, "that wasn't so bad, now, was it? ****** Natalie, her hands deep inside the chest cavity of Chester Morton, III, sang softly to herself. "Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger. You may see a stranger, across a..." she met with resistance and stopped to peer at what the problem was, and then getting a better grip on his lung continued, "across a crowded room. And somehow, you know. You know even then....that somewhere you'll see him again and again...." She extracted the lung and made a face. "Oh, Chester, you should have quit smoking. This is definitely not pretty." She laughed at her mood. Despite getting very little sleep today, she was higher than high tonight. Though she hadn't heard anything yet from Nick, she was unworried. She'd done the right thing and she knew it. She felt so great. Absolutely wonderful. Mark had called her before leaving for the airport. He'd been on top of the world. "If I didn't have a concert tomorrow in L.A., nothing could drag me away," he'd assured her. Though he hadn't had time to say much, he'd said enough. "Oh, Natalie," Mark said, "I can't thank you enough. For the first time in years, I feel complete again. Do you know we sat and played duets together? Silly stuff, really. Things we used to play. The Hungarian Rhapsody." He laughed at some inside joke. "And then Nick played for me. Really played for me. I used to think I was crazy, y'know, because I was sure he was better than anyone I have ever heard-- certainly better than me. Now I know he is. It was like sitting at the feet of a master. It was incredible. To think, I...I learned from somebody who learned from Chopin and Beethoven and Debussey... I can't even begin to take it in. I just can't. "I made Nick give me your number, so I could thank you. I've got to go; my plane leaves in twenty minutes, but I couldn't leave without thanking you. Thank you for having the courage to override Nick." Background noise in the airport drowned him out for a minute. "Damn, I've got to go, but I'll be back. Nick and I have a lot more catching up to do. I still have a lot to learn from him, and hopefully I can somehow give back to him something to let him know how much I appreciate what he did for me." "I think he understands, Mark," Natalie said softly. "I hope so." Then Mark laughed, "He's not getting rid of me ever again. I even managed to talk him into collaborating on some pieces with me. I'm really excited about that. I always wanted to write a piece with him--now I can. And I will. I feel like a kid again. Thank you, Natalie. Thank you." She'd hardly got a word in edgewise in the flood that had poured out of Mark. She wondered briefly what his wife was making of his manic mood, and smiled at the thought. It had turned out so right. No, she wasn't worried. Nick wasn't going to kill her today. She carefully put the lung aside for further tissue examination and began to sing again, "Who can explain it? Who can tell you why...Fools give you reasons..." "Wise men," Nick whispered in her ear, "never, ever try." "Aaaackkk!" Natalie gasped. Nick caught her in his arms and kissed her, despite the lung lying on the table, despite Chester Morton's very dead presence, despite her gloves and the wicked-looking surgical instrument in her hand. He kissed her. Deeply, passionately, thankfully. "Thank you, Natalie," he whispered against her lips. "Thank you..." And Natalie smiled. - Fin - Do you have a comment? I'd be eager to hear it. Send 'em to delggren@es.com.