The Gift
by Dorothy Elggren
Part 2

See Part 1 for comments.

	"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."

End Part 2
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