Elusive Gains - Nick Jarvinia Late 2011 Like the original version of Elusive Gains, this is a Pre-DK story that starts soon after Nick and Natalie met. This version is all from Nick's POV. Disclaimer: I don't own the FK characters in this and no harm is meant either through writing this or using an image from the show for the ePub cover. This story may not be archived without permission; however, if you'd like to, please do ask. :) Feedback of all sorts (particularly dark chocolate...) gladly accepted at: jarvinia@gmx.com Enjoy! ~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~ Elusive Gains - Nick - (01/26) Nick looked coldly up at the second floor of an apartment building, waiting for the lights to go out. He had a few more minutes to wait by his guess. It had been nearly three weeks since he had tested the mortal, checked to see what she remembered of his waking up on her autopsy table. She had remembered everything and when he had tried to either make her forget or scare her into forgetting she only seemed more resistant and insistent. She had practically offered to help him gain the one thing he wanted more than anything else: His long lost mortality. While she had more or less agreed--and had probably expected to talk to him again soon--he had to remind himself this wasn't a simple decision. He could still leave the city and start over elsewhere, but this mortal was his best chance in decades. She was a scientist who wanted to understand what he was. She didn't think he was evil...she didn't think that being a vampire made him some demon or meant he was possessed. And technology had advanced so very much since his last try with science... For him there was little to lose. Except her. She had no idea what danger she was in just from knowing about vampires. If LaCroix found him and found out about his new attempt at a cure he could kill her. Or, worse, LaCroix could tip off the Enforcers and get them both killed. He had grown tired of being the cause of others' deaths. Even if he didn't kill her himself, drain her dry of her blood, if she died because of knowing about him and his kind her death would still be his fault. If he left now she would eventually just pass it off as some dream or nightmare, but if he stayed she would only have more questions...and the more he told her the more danger she would be in. As the lights in her apartment clicked off, Nick slid back into the shadows. It wouldn't be long until she came down and walked mere feet from him on the way to her car and he wasn't yet ready to speak to her again. Not quite. Nick remained still as she walked by, completely oblivious to him watching her. Dr. Lambert was on her way to work; he knew because he had looked up her schedule and had rechecked it every week so he could follow her. She didn't have much of a life; her co-workers seemed to be her friends, she didn't go on any dates and had neither a husband nor children. She lived to work, and he had seen her positively light up at a crime scene the previous week. How this woman could work as a medical examiner, seeing every gruesome and often untidy death in the city, homicides, suicides, accident victims, and more... Even that attracted him to her. She would have little problem digesting the more horror-filled aspects of his nature and past, assuming he took her offer. In his experience mortals rarely befriended vampires unless there was something in it for them. They either wanted immortality and youth for themselves, wanted to save a sick relative, or would use what he was against him. She could reveal vampires to the world and make a fortune off her findings even if she didn't cure him. Who was to say she wasn't already collecting data on him? Technology could be both his saviour and his undoing. Once her car had been pulled out of its spot and out of the parking lot, Nick turned his attention to the now dark windows of her apartment. He hadn't, as of yet, broken into her apartment, but if they were to do this he needed to know she wasn't planning to write some research paper on him. He had already searched her desk and the cabinets at her work...twice. Nothing. Going to her apartment and searching there was his last chance to find a reason not to trust her, not to leave Toronto and settle elsewhere. He had put it off so long because he feared what he'd find. He quickly flew up to the set of windows and tried them--unlocked. He smiled at her naiveté and slipped into the apartment, closing the windows quickly and silently behind him. Stepping out from behind the thin curtains, Nick let his eyes scan the dark room. He tried not to look much at the decor or her furniture and zoned in on any cupboards or drawers, which he quickly opened and rifled through. He scanned the books on the bookcase, but little stood out. The few he pulled off that didn't have a title on the spine either had one on the cover or consisted of notes from medical school. Then he looked in any other hiding spots in that room--under the sofa and under any other low-lying furniture. The room, even the floor, was very clean. All he found hiding was a brightly coloured fabric mouse that jingled dully as he pulled it out. A cat. She had a cat. Turning with the plan to stand he found himself face to face with a short-haired grey and white cat that had climbed up onto the back of a nearby recliner to get a good look at the intruder. Nick tried to smile calmly at the animal, but it was looking rather fearfully at him. The cat looked stiff, even a bit frozen. The animal knew he was a bigger and more dangerous predator. Nick's smile faltered slightly, dimming, but at least it hadn't darted away...or out the door when he had entered, for that matter. Nick held out the stuffed, bell-containing mouse, which the cat sniffed cautiously. Slowly standing, Nick kept the toy mouse steady, then he brought his other hand unhurriedly nearer. For a second, Nick thought the cat would perhaps then sniff his hand, but instead it took a swat at his fingers, as if testing to see if the human-like creature would act like it should by pulling back. Nick had managed to pull his hand back in time before claws caught at his skin, but the too quick action seemed to put an end to the cat's curiosity. Its ears suddenly swivelled back and it crouched back and hissed. Instinctively Nick hissed back, baring his fangs, and the cat bolted away from him faster than his hand had moved, jumping off the chair, onto the coffee table, knocking over a vase of fabric flowers as it fled deeper into the apartment. Closing his eyes, Nick forced the vampire back. He had been caught off-guard by the cat. He had to calm his thoughts and finish his search. Opening his eyes he saw the knocked over vase and flowers. At least nothing had broken or spilt, and it looked like the flowers were somehow tied together which would make his clean up task easier. Nick tipped the vase back up and turned it slightly, hoping it was how it had been. He suspected the mortal would notice if something was even slightly out of place. From the main living area he then went through the kitchen cabinets and drawers, where the only papers he found were her lease and any other important documents. She had lived there for nearly three years, something he filed quickly away as he switched his attention to a hall closet. It, too, held nothing incriminating. The same with the bathroom, which he only gave a cursory glance. Her bedroom he went through more thoroughly and took the longest time searching. The cat hissed at him from under the bed, where it then hid in the closet. He searched there last, keeping his attention on the frightened animal as he looked around. Nothing. He had half-hoped he would find some piece of paper, folder, or even a computer file on him, but she didn't have a computer in her home and other than junk mail, bills, and things like her lease, a couple of binders of university work and papers, and then documents relating to her employment she had very little in the way of files or notes either laying out or in hiding. If he had found a reason not to trust her, all he would have needed to do was leave. She would have made his decision for him. Instead he was left with the same dilemma as before. Did he or did he not take her offer? Did he or did he not involve her in his mess of an existence? Did he do what he wanted and possibly endanger her? But he had decided his options before coming there to search. He would try once again to make the mortal forget about him. If she nearly forgot like that first time, before he had tested her, he would leave and make a life in some other city. If she again resisted he would try to take her offer, but he had to do so cautiously. And he had to keep their lives as far removed from each other as possible. He couldn't let her trust him too much; he had to make sure she knew he was dangerous. Nick determinedly left the bedroom and returned to the windows, which he then slunk out of, taking care that the curtains didn't get caught and it didn't look like someone had come in through the area, then he latched the windows. He nearly locked them, but as he didn't know if she had just forgotten to lock it or if she normally left it unlocked he didn't want to draw attention. Once sure no one could see him or was watching him, Nick took off and headed to her work. He didn't fly straight there and instead weaved one way and the other, still thinking and worrying about seeing her again. Landing on the roof, Nick hesitated before entering. She would have started her shift nearly an hour ago, and not much more than an hour remained before he had to head home to the safety of his own apartment. He again closed his eyes to focus, but instead of calming he pulled a hard shell around him. Sneaking into the building was easy. He had done so dozens of times over the past several weeks, and it was second nature to avoid any of the others who worked there. Reaching autopsy where she worked, he carefully pushed one of the doors silently open, slipped in, and let the door close just as silently. He half expected she would be watching him and would have caught him as he opened the door, but she hadn't. She was absorbed in her work, her gaze directed downward at a slide in a microscope. Lazily he walked around behind her along the opposite side of the exam table, his gaze locked on the mortal's back the entire time. He stopped near the other end of the table and just watched her, not wanting to interrupt whatever her task was. Nick tensed as she finally moved, pulling her head back from the eye-piece, then held his position and expression as she turned and spotted him with clear surprise. "Good evening," she greeted him, her voice almost imperceptibly shaking. Nick ignored her words at first and just walked back around the table slowly, looking about the room. He didn't see any papers pertaining to him out here and now, either. Reaching the other end of the steel slab he turned his attention directly onto the mortal, stopping a few feet from where she stood. She had tensed as well, her heart speeding up slightly from nervousness or anticipation. "I'm a bit surprised to see you here." "Why?" he asked genuinely. After all, she had been more certain about helping him than he was about allowing her. "Because you don't like me knowing what you are. And because you seemed hesitant at the idea of me helping you. Frankly, I'm surprised you don't just vanish, leaving me to chalk everything up to dreams or hallucinations." Nick nearly smiled at that; here was his chance. He took a step closer, holding her gaze even as she stepped back away from him, and then smoothly intoned, "*That's all I am. A dream. A hallucination.*" He had hoped she would repeat him, but she didn't. Pushing harder, he commanded, "*You won't remember me.*" "I won't...." Nick smirked a bit more as she started to succumb. "*None of this happened. None of this is real,*" he continued, but again she seemed to freeze up and didn't respond. Finally he outright ordered, "*Forget, Doctor.*" "You've already tried this before, remember?" she nearly snapped at him. Nick stiffened and forced himself not to change. He could feel her anger and annoyance, but she wasn't looking away from him. "I am not going to forget any of this. You know that." "You should." "Is that what you want me to do? Forget? Pretend that none of this ever happened and that you're nothing more than a figment of my imagination?" "Yes, that would be best," he told her, letting his guard drop just a touch, wishing she would believe him. Instead she seemed to be thinking, considering how to respond. "Okay. If 'it would be best,' then why are you here? You already knew you couldn't make me forget. You could have just left. I'm sure that would have made things easier for you. But you knew I would like to help you, and that's why you're here, isn't it?" "How can you be sure that's why I'm here?" he snapped back, even though that is exactly why he was there. She was too perceptive for her own good. At least his question seemed to make her think again, her muscles tensing. He needed her to hold at least a little doubt about him. "I know that I'll do what I can to help you, if you'll let me and if that is what you're here for." "Do you know what, exactly, you're offering your help for?" he asked suspiciously, wondering exactly what she thought he wanted and she would be helping him with. "From what you've stated, you believe yourself to be evil, cursed. You want to do something about it, to change it." Nick looked away. Her memory seemed to be good, but had she yet guessed his real goal? "You seemed to like the idea that what you are is based in science, drawn by the possibility that you might possibly be cured through it, even if you won't admit it. You see me as a manner in which to explore that and, as I've told you, I am willing to help you." "It's not as simple as you think," he quickly told her, his guard dropping another notch, although he forced himself to keep his gaze even. "I never said it was simple, just that if you'll let me that I would try to help." "Really, Doctor; you see me as an interesting project, a challenge," Nick stated, reiterating their last conversation as she had done to him. This time, however, he would give her more, and he asked, "And I suppose you would like the full details of that challenge?" "Yes, I would." "I want to reverse it." He paused, his hard exterior faltering a moment before more fully explaining, baring his most fragile and important wish, "It's more than just wanting to be at peace, wanting to end my hunger or walk in the sunlight. More even than a simple cure of the symptoms. I want it completely gone. I want to destroy the vampire so that it will never return. What I want is to become mortal again." Nick steeled himself for a reply, but she just stared at him somewhat blankly, probably trying to digest his goal. Stiffening again, he asked, "Am I correct in that this is enough of a challenge for you?" "Yes. Yes, it is. And I'll take it." "No. I won't take your answer tonight," Nick told her with a slight shake of his head. Mere seconds had passed since he had directly told her what he really wanted; he wouldn't take any answer from her until she had time to consider this more closely. Slowly he began to spin only to spy her hand reaching toward him to stop him. He shifted sideways and turned back to her with an instinctive glare. "How and when will you hear my response?" Nick relaxed at the question, telling her, "I will return in a few days. You can answer then," before again starting for the doors, this time more quickly. "Wait!" Nick stopped with one hand still holding the door open. All he had to do was take another step, let go, and he was gone, but if they were going to perhaps work together he had to stop leaving abruptly, at least at times. He looked at her, only to find her a bit stunned and seemingly at a loss for what she was going to say. "You haven't even told me your name." He looked toward the doors, told her, "No, I haven't," then left before she could ask him why or what it was. Nick didn't pause or slow until he was once again on the roof. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in the cool morning air. He hadn't told her his name as he wanted to wait as long as possible. He at minimum wanted her answer first. If possible he'd prefer she never knew his name, but now that she had asked...she'd probably ask again the next time they met. He wasn't looking forward to that. Then there would be more questions. Elusive Gains - Nick - (02/26) The past week had been a mess for Nick. He had held off on moving his things more fully in or modifying his apartment until he had spoken to Natalie again. While still uncertain if he would stay long term or work while here in Toronto, he wanted to at least give things a try...which meant doing something about the windows and actually moving in properly. Up until this point his only furniture had been a couch, which he had even left covered in a sheet. Everything else was in storage or would need bought. The workers that had come to install the shutters over the windows hadn't finished until this afternoon, nearly a week past the 'few days' he had told his possible new doctor of sorts he would come for his answer. The windows were one thing he couldn't do himself, and he had missed out on a lot of sleep. Then he had to make sure they actually worked properly. And then he had also finally had his belongings delivered the previous day; the delivery driver had been late--past sunrise--and that hadn't helped his mood or week one bit. The windows were supposed to have been done before the delivery. With both overlapping that had made both tasks take longer, he felt sure. He had then been slow to unpack, partially due to the work being done and being tired, and partly worried he would get a 'no' when he did finally go by Dr. Lambert's work. Now with his alarm system up and running, his belongings in crates either scattered about his apartment or in the adjoining warehouse waiting to be unpacked, he could relax. No more visitors. The previous two nights he had ended up sleeping at night rather than during the day, and as night arrived once more he wanted to sleep rather than talk to the mortal doctor. But he needed to. If he put it off much more he might as well have left weeks ago. He also wanted to check her work area once more before accepting her answer. That was another thing he hadn't had time to do, and so he was doing that tonight before she arrived at work. Entering autopsy minutes after sunset, Nick first made sure she wasn't already there...and she wasn't. He scanned the counters quickly, then went to her desk where he slowly lowered himself into her chair. Her desk was...a bigger mess than his apartment at the moment. It hadn't been this disorganised the last time he had searched it. First he went through the drawers, all but one was unlocked, and very little had changed. No tucked away notes or recording tapes. Then he flipped through the items on her desk, shifting the file folders, reports, notes, etc., to get a glance at most everything. It was all paperwork for her job or those she worked with. Hearing the door open, Nick hastily shoved the papers in his hands together and pressed them into a pile slightly off to one side. Then he leaned back slightly in the chair, hoping he looked like he had just been waiting. It seemed to have worked as she pulled back in surprise upon seeing him, her eyes locked solidly on his and not her desk. "So, you decided to come back for an answer." Nick inwardly tensed at her tone; she was upset, annoyed with him, and he didn't blame her one bit. "Yes." "What took you so long?" she demanded before he had the chance to apologise. In fact, the question caught him a bit off guard. He considered answering, but what did she care if the delivery of his belongings had been postponed a day--twice--and then the driver had been six hours late, or that he'd been kept awake for nearly a week by the sounds of electrical saws and metal scraping against metal? "Fine. Don't answer." Nick brushed off her curtness and instead turned their conversation to what he was there for. "Have you taken time to consider the full implications of your offer more thoroughly?" "You know what my answer is. It hasn't changed." "Are you sure you have considered this...very carefully?" he again asked, not sure she really understood what she was agreeing to. "Have you?" "Of course." "And you think you can make me mortal again?" "Yes." "Truly? I will know if you lie." While this was a lie in and of itself, it made her heart race faster and made her pause. He had barely come even remotely close in all his attempts; it was likely she, too, would fail. "Do you truly believe there's even a chance you could succeed?" "Yes." "Yes?" he asked once more, examining her reaction. Her pulse increased momentarily, then it settled and steadied. Even before she spoke again he knew she really believed she could help him. Even if she couldn't, she would try. "I believe I can. It might take time, but I'll do everything I can to help you." "Time." There was the catch. He knew it, of course; at least she didn't think it would take, say a week or month. She knew this would be a long-term investment of her time. It already had been. "Yes. Something you have plenty of, I gather?" Nick nearly smiled at that, and looked away to avoid her catching the glimmer of amusement that would surely be obvious if he looked her straight on. "That's...one way to put it." "What were you looking for?" Nick's gaze snapped back toward the angry voice, and as she approached him rapidly in anger his eyes flipped to gold in an instant. "You were looking through my things." Holding his position, Nick just stared up at her. "And?" "And this is my desk. You have no right to--" "I have every right," he nearly hissed, his voice dropping lower. "Then give me your reason." At first Nick did nothing, then he leaned back in the chair as he stalled. "Tell me what you were doing or get out." Now he stiffened. He had somewhat worried he had already waited too long to talk to her given he had taken so long between the other times they ran into one another. And she had apparently reached her limit as far as his silence went. He couldn't just assume she'd go along with this without something. "You were...correct in that I suspected your answer." "And?" "And I wanted to make sure you didn't have anything lying around that could cause trouble," Nick admitted. He saw a mix of emotions flit across her features--mild annoyance and understanding. She even relaxed a little at his answer. "I'm sure you have...questions." "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do. Perhaps we should start from the beginning. I'm--" "Dr. Natalie Lambert," he cut her off. "I know your name. I learned it soon after our first...meeting." He watched her tense slightly, but she seemed less upset than she had moments before discovering her desk rearranged. "And you are?" He hesitated just a few seconds, then simply said, "Nick." "Nick. Nick...what?" "Just Nick," he repeated. "Is a last name too much to ask for?" "Yes," he replied, letting the tone of his voice drop again. She didn't ask again, which he was thankful for, but he could tell she was getting annoyed...she was pursing her lips again. Tentatively he gently prodded, "How much do you know about vampires? Myths of us." Once again he could see her annoyance with him diminish slightly, which is what he had hoped. "Well, they're generally nocturnal, burn or otherwise die from exposure to sunlight. And judging by that I've only seen you at night, that one's true, isn't it?" Nick nodded. "Yes. And yes, it can kill me, or at least burn me." "Then there's the ever prominent stakes...." "A stake through the heart will kill just about anything, though, won't it?" "Well, yes... But would a knife through the heart kill you? You're essentially immortal, right?" Nick liked how she thought...with logic and reality. "No, a knife through the heart would not kill me. Not permanently." He had to consider her other question a few seconds more before admitting, "And yes, essentially immortal. I do not age or die through...typical means." "Decapitation, although that I suspect would kill just about anything." Nick was finding it harder not to smile a little. He didn't know if it was her tone, just the way she said things, or something else. But he couldn't be too friendly, and so he just flatly confirmed with another, "Yes." "Which just proves you must need oxygen to survive, on some level." "But I don't need it," he rather quickly countered. If vampires needed oxygen for survival, other methods of dying would surely kill them, too. "I think you probably do." Nick still didn't understand how she came to that conclusion and he demanded, "Fine. Explain it, then." "Well, oxygen is carried in the blood to the brain, and decapitation would likely cut that supply off indefinitely. Perhaps that is why it kills a vampire. You still need to have oxygen in your blood and in your brain however efficient your body processes it and however your body obtains it." He nearly tried to counter her again, but hesitated. She could be right; it was clear vampires' organs worked at least somewhat differently. While he knew vampires stopped breathing when severely injured--could even bury themselves in dirt to survive the day if necessary--perhaps his kind could store it for a time. "Whatever the case, it's something that kills more than just vampires." "It's unimportant," he brushed her comment off. "It's very important, Nick. It's something I might be able to eventually use to help you." Nick stiffened a bit at that, again a little taken aback by her thought processes. Not wanting to argue, he again turned their conversation back to her knowledge and assumptions about vampires. "What else have you heard about my kind?" "Garlic, mirrors, uh...holy water, crucifixes.... Then, uh, something about running water, some kinds of roses, and turning into bats? And probably more, really, but I'm not sure what's real and what isn't." Nick nodded at her list and uncertainty. Mortals had at times taken literary liberties making things up about them, or else cultures had mixed vampires up with other myths. "They are a mixture of truth and myth." "But which is which?" "The first have basis on us, the last three do not." "So, no garlic-laden pizza, huh?" Nick shot a glare at the probably well-intentioned joke. Garlic wasn't something he was fond of smelling, let alone eating...it could make vampires rather violently ill. "Sorry, I just thought--" "If you are to help me, I ask that you remain professional," he simply said, wanting to keep the distance between them. The more they talked the more comfortable he felt, and that could be dangerous for her. Very dangerous. Deadly. He watched her nod, but he didn't relax. "Well then...I suppose you'd like to give me a blood sample so I can see--" "No." "What?" "No blood samples." "I need a blood sample, Nick." He adamantly shook his head. While he didn't think she'd use his blood against him or his kind, he neither felt comfortable giving her one just yet nor felt she necessarily needed one. "No, you don't." "How am I supposed to examine what you are without knowing more about your physiological make up?" "Because science alone can't explain what I am. You can work without a blood sample." Not wanting to be goaded into changing his mind, he stood and started toward the doors to leave. He paused just before reaching the doors and turned back to her. "When would you like me to return?" "Nick, I--" "When would you like me to return?" he repeated coldly. He wasn't going to talk more about this, not when he was tired and hungry. "I think it unwise to continue this conversation tonight." "This Thursday, nine o'clock. It's my night off, so we'll have more time. Perhaps we could meet somewhere else?" "No. We will meet here." He put his hand on the door only for her to speak again. "Okay.... Does the time work, then?" Nick didn't even think before giving a short and simple nod. He had no plans. Again he left before she could ask him any further questions...tonight, anyway. In a couple more nights he would probably have to answer more questions, or at least be prepared to start working on something. He suspected she would want to get right to work on things given she seemed impatient. And he would be there on time regardless of how much or little sleep he got over the next few days. Elusive Gains - Nick - (03/26) As Thursday afternoon arrived, Nick dug in a packing crate, hoping to find something to bring with him that evening. Finally, at nearly sunset, after going through half a dozen boxes, he found it--an old mirror. It wasn't overly large, about twenty inches square including the frame. As he stared down in it he saw nothing beyond smudges. He flipped it over so as not to be distracted by his image's absence and took it back into the main part of his loft. He still hadn't unpacked much of anything and he was still sleeping on the couch. His coming to Toronto hadn't gone nearly as smoothly as planned, and he still wondered if he should perhaps leave. Far more had gone wrong than right...maybe it was some sort of warning that things would only get worse if he stayed? He couldn't help but worry LaCroix would find him this time, and that would definitely make things even worse. Nick sat the mirror carefully down on his kitchen counter, then he flipped it reflective side down before pulling a glass out of the cabinet. He took the glass to his refrigerator where he filled it full with blood. His new mortal partner of sorts hadn't had much chance to ask about this...his food. The blood wasn't human, which he wondered if would bother her more or less...or if it would just be another curiosity. He downed half the glass as he stood there, filled it full again, then finally replaced the bottle and shut the refrigerator doors. Walking back over to the counter and the mirror, Nick flipped it carefully over and then wiped the surface with a damp cloth to remove the dust and fingerprints. If anything, his lack of reflection was now even clearer. He was just thankful that this particular quirk mostly showed up in older mirrors, and not the newer, cheaper mirrors. Mostly. He had noticed the mirror in the bathroom here only showed him sometimes. It was a bit annoying, although he had to say one thing about technology: Electric shavers made needing a mirror to shave a luxury rather than a necessity. So it wasn't necessary, but it was rather unnerving at times. A reminder that he wasn't human. And a way he could be discovered by mortals...although frankly even when he didn't reflect it seemed either the omission was unconsciously filled in or others couldn't believe it so never commented. Nick glanced toward the open shutters. The sun was well down. He'd have to get ready if he wanted to be at the morgue early to put the mirror somewhere for a demonstration. By eight-thirty he had arrived and again found the room empty. It took nearly five minutes before he had the mirror solidly propped up at an angle so that if he walked in front of it anywhere directly in its path it'd be clear it's not some trick. He moved over to the far end of the autopsy table to wait, which he didn't need to do for long. He wasn't the only one who decided to come early, and at fifteen till nine Natalie casually entered through the doors. She seemed less shocked at his abrupt appearance, although she was clearly a touch put off. "What are you doing here, Nick, it's--" "You still insist that what I am can be defined only by science?" he asked, watching her react with narrowed eyes to his question. "Well, yes. You are alive, Nick. And I haven't seen anything that I don't think could have some reasonable explanation." Nick had expected such an answer from her, and he smirked slightly as he commented, "Then you now know why I came early?" "Okay...why?" "To prove something." Nick nodded toward the mirror on the counter and then watched as she looked at it rather curiously. "And what is this supposed to prove?" she asked, looking back at him. Nick moved deliberately from where he stood, closer to the counter, then slowly walked past the mirror a few steps at a time. At first she seemed to react like most other mortals and just stared blankly past him at the mirror. Then he saw her eyes somehow widen and narrow at the same time. "Wait a minute...." she said as she walked past Nick and right up to the mirror. Nick could see her reflection; mortals would show up just fine. He watched her back slightly away and turn toward him. "Come and stand in front of me." He did so, positioning himself directly in her line of sight with his back to the mirror. He had expected the request, and wasn't too surprised when she looked around him only too look rather shocked and confused. "Please, Doctor, explain." "Uh, well...I can't, Nick. Not right this moment, anyway." Nick nearly smiled at her lack of an answer. It was something that didn't have much of an explanation that he was aware...one of vampires' more supernatural 'abilities' of sorts. "And you know I can't. That's what this is for, isn't it? To show that I'm wrong." He nodded ever so slightly, careful to keep his expression neutral. It wasn't hard with the emotions that dredged up from being reminded via the mirror that he wasn't like her. Sometimes he wondered if vampires really even existed if they didn't always show up in reflective surfaces. "Vampires are not a product of science. I am not a product of science." "Then why are you going to allow me to help you if you still think science can't explain what you are?" Nick didn't respond instantly; this was one question he hadn't quite expected, but when it came down to it he did believe science and medicine might be able to, at some point, help him...or at minimum define what he was. "For the same reason you wish to help me. If I am not evil, as you say, there must be an explanation. While I have not yet seen science provide an explanation, that is not to say that I don't think it will never be able to." "And the mirror?" "To show that this is more complicated than you believe. You neither do nor can fully understand what I am, but I feel it necessary for you to know that there are things that even I can't explain. I cannot explain why I do not reflect, nor can I explain precisely why crosses affect my kind. It's just the way I am." "But...I've seen you reflect. You reflect off glass, off all the metal surfaces in here. I'm sure of it." Nick had watched her look at the mirror again, and he both shook and nodded his head slightly as he answered, "But those are merely shadows of a reflection. Sometimes I reflect as normal as any mortal, but often I don't reflect at all." "I see that." Tensing a bit at her nervousness, Nick watched her again glance at the mirror, then move away so that she would no longer be able to see the dual realities. "Well, you've made your point, so I guess we should get on with other things." "Yes," he agreed, although he was a bit nervous about the moving on with actually trying to start this. "For one, I need to know more about you. I need to know things like temperature, pulse, respiratory rate and...." Nick pulled back, stepping away from her as she listed off tests. He wasn't quite as opposed to these, but as he doubted some of these even really existed he didn't quite see the point. And she would have to touch him. Repeatedly. More than anything he wasn't ready for that. True, she had already touched his skin, his face, but that had been different...it had been a demonstration rather like the mirror. And the more she knew, the more she had to put down somewhere, the more dangerous this offer of hers seemed. "What?" "I think you know my answer." "What? Like the blood test?" "Yes," he said with a bit of anger and a jerky nod. "Nick, I need something to start with." "And if you tell me what you want to know...." He searched for what to say for a second, but when it came down to it she did need to ask him some things, and he finished, "I will tell you the answers you need." "Anything? Will you tell me anything?" "Anything that you *need*," he repeated. He would tell her as much as he felt comfortable with, but on his own time, and not tonight. When they argued he felt...off. His instincts told him to flee and he felt hungry. But they sure couldn't go on with periodic demonstrations without any real work getting done. "Okay. For starters, I want to know how you became a vampire. Detailed." Nick forced himself not to budge at the question. It was questions like these he feared most, but he answered, dumbing that night down as much as he could, "Brought across; drained and then given the blood of a vampire." "And this blood is what changed you?" "Yes. And that is all you need to know. Your concern is with what I am, and reversing it." "And I could really use a sample of your blood...." "And you will not get one," he again refused, although he could see her frustration with him. She was getting downright ticked off. "Okay, tell me what you will answer, then." He shook his head, thinking, but what would he answer? How could he know until she asked it? Not wanting to delay this but needing to escape her nearby warmth he told her, "Make a list of questions you would like answers for. Leave them here when you leave. I will return it when I can." Then, not waiting for an answer or any sort of reply, Nick left. Even if she had called him back he wouldn't have paused to listen. He left via the roof again, this time not pausing to regain his thoughts but shooting back to his home as quickly as possible. Then, he had gone straight to the fridge, yanked out a bottle, and upended it's semi-sweet contents. Cow's blood wasn't what his body wanted right now at all. Her question about becoming a vampire and her request that it be detailed...it had made him recall that night and he had needed blood to stifle the images that still flitted through his mind. Talking to others--to mortals, especially--about what he was or his past had become more difficult as time went on...forget both. He hadn't either purposely or accidentally revealed what he was to anyone for decades...a good quarter of a century, he'd guess. But it was more than just the question, what had been asked, or that he would be asked more questions. Being asked about the night he had become a vampire had brought LaCroix solidly into his thoughts yet again. He hadn't seen or spoken to the other vampire in nearly twenty years. He couldn't think when the other had left him alone for so long. If he found out about Natalie and her knowledge of vampires, he would kill her. His spur of the moment request that she write out questions for him would make deciding just what to tell her easier. He could bring his answers back whenever he could, and he wouldn't feel ambushed or on edge trying to decide how much to tell her. Nick took another swig from his bottle, then reluctantly put it back before he drank the whole bottle and started on another. He had better things to do than drown his memories. He might as well start unpacking; she would need time, several hours at least, probably, to write up her questions for him. He would return to her office sometime before sunrise for his mirror and check then for her questions. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Indeed, when Nick went by the morgue an hour before dawn the room was empty and there, slipped under the mirror still where he had set it, had been a sealed envelope with his name on it. He had fingered the enveloped for nearly a minute before slipping it snugly into his jacket pocket and picking up the mirror. He had left at that point, once again coming straight back to his apartment. The mirror he hung on the wall in an out of the way spot, and then, slowly, he had walked over to his couch and sat as he pulled the still nearly pristine envelope out of his jacket. Again, he fiddled with the still sealed note. It hadn't been tampered with, which was good. He was also pleased to see that she had sealed it to begin with. Nick nearly sat it on the coffee table in front of him and headed upstairs to put the sheets on his newly assembled bed, but suspected he wouldn't sleep well if he didn't open it and at least look at her questions. He tore it carefully open and pulled out a folded sheet of plain paper filled with questions in neat, even letters. There was a space between each one for his answers. Many of the questions he didn't think he'd answer, or if he did he would have to be careful. Some had nothing to do with what she was helping him with, like one that stood out near the bottom: "What occupations have you had?" What he had done for work or whether he ever worked at all, as far as he was concerned, was none of her business. Ironically if he hadn't ended up on her table and then had to put his planned occupation for this life on hold they would probably be working together at times. He still hadn't thought of an alternative; he didn't want to do anything else, not right now. The question right at the bottom made his eyes flash yellow. Again she was asking about other vampires. More specifically she seemed to be trying to find out if he had any friends or acquaintances of sorts--whether they be vampires or mortals--but just the thought that she was asking about vampires other than himself, even causally, made his anger flare. The vampire he had spent the most time with was the one he had to keep her as far away from as possible. He couldn't mention any others as if he caved once, she would just continue to prod him. And he didn't have any mortal friends or acquaintances that he kept in contact with. Once he moved, that was pretty much it...and not like he made many friends. For one he usually kept others as far back as possible, and for another, those that slipped through usually ended up worse off for knowing him. It's the main reason he wanted to keep their relationship so distant and their conversation on one topic and only one. Nick scanned through the other questions and noticed the ones that would be easy to answer were mostly toward the start. Those questions were more factual or at least pertained to him and what he was. She wanted more specifics of his reactions to things like garlic and mortal food...as well as anything else he reacted adversely to. She also asked about what he knew about his general life signs since 'checking directly was out'. She had listed the things she wanted, like blood pressure and his pulse rate, with a little space after for each. That made him feel a bit bad, and he realised he might just need to allow her to check those herself. Along with that question had been one on his weight, which he thought a bit odd until he noticed the next little question asking if it ever changed. He had never really thought about it. The question after that he wasn't sure what she meant, quite, and had a feeling his answer would be a question or a blank. He barely remembered being mortal--and differences between that and now? Anything different he had then took for granted, like how sunlight felt on his skin. All he knew is that it burned now and didn't then. Near the middle were a couple questions about whether this was the first time he had worked with someone towards a cure, how many times if he had, and what had been tried. His eyes strayed away from the piece of paper upon reading those, and only now did he set the paper on the coffee table so that he could no longer read any of the words or questions unless he focused. His past attempts to become mortal had often gone wrong. More often than not the mortal ended up dead, and he had been blackmailed and even nearly killed. While the latter might explain or at least give a reason why he was cautious, he had a feeling Dr. Lambert would be less thrilled about the rest. He didn't want her to pity him, but he wanted to try again...whatever the risks to himself. The best he could do to warn her is to make sure she didn't trust him, not completely. Elusive Gains - Nick - (04/26) Nick hadn't started in on answering the questions until the following night, and then as he expected some were easy and some he wavered on whether to answer at all. The easiest had been the questions on how he reacted to food and sunlight, etc. He had answered as best he could from memory for the questions on food, drink, garlic, and holy water. He had actually more properly checked his reaction to sunlight and crosses, then added to the latter that it wasn't necessarily just Christian religious objects, but articles from other religions could harm him as well. The next easiest questions had been similar, but instead of how he reacted to ingesting things other than blood and his reaction to avoidable stimuli, it was how he reacted to what would otherwise be mortal wounds. She had suggested a few--shot, stabbed, etc.--and she didn't have to ask what happened when he got blown up, but he had added a couple of others. Like electrocution. That particular method didn't 'kill' a vampire right away, much like if he were shot in the abdomen or lungs. He would be able to heal fast enough that, assuming he wasn't injured worse, he wouldn't necessarily pass out and 'die' from those injuries. He was sure Dr. Lambert would be intrigued by those answers, although he did worry a bit that she would ask him more questions. But it would be much easier to answer on the fly about other ways of dying or being injured than try to add to some of her other questions. And then there were questions about approximating how much blood he drank and if it was a typical, steady amount. That one had been a little difficult, and he had guessed and noted it was just a guess. She had also asked more questions about blood, specifically what happened if he didn't drink it or drink enough, and the longest he had gone without drinking blood. Again, he had been forced to guess, but he did his best to answer truthfully. Then as he hit the harder questions he started walking away from the questionnaire when he had a problem with answering a question and continuing with his task of unpacking. Then he would come back, skip to the next one, only to have issues with that question as well. The sun had come up again by the time he had answered as much as he felt comfortable with. This resulted in a good half of the page being empty because he either didn't want to or couldn't think of a good answer to those questions. Again Nick felt bad about having declined her request to at least check his life signs, and he had decided then that when he took the questionnaire in that night he would allow it. And if she wasn't there, then he would wait to hand in his answers. After a rather fitful day of sleep, Nick had dressed in just a simple button down shirt and left for the morgue with the sheet of paper. He hesitated at the door, hearing someone walking in the room--he knew it was Dr. Lambert from the sound of her heart: Strong and steady and on the slow side compared to the others in the building. He quietly pushed the door open to find her bent over her desk, back to him, apparently gathering her things to go home. As she reached toward a jacket hanging on her chair, he figured he should get her attention and asked, "Dr. Lambert?" She spun rather abruptly, clearly surprised to see him, and he unfolded his answer sheet as he approached, then held it out to her. "I brought these and thought I would ask when you next wished to see me." "Ah, thank you." Nick let her take the sheet of paper from him and watched her tense a little. No doubt she had noticed the empty spaces. He was surprised when she didn't ask why he hadn't answered. "I left some things blank," he admitted when she also didn't say when she wanted to meet with him again. "I figured if you really want information on my body's expression of life or lack thereof as much as you seem to...you can examine me," he rather bluntly put out there for her, which seemed to make her expression momentarily blank. "If you want to go home I can come back--" "No. Right now is fine if you're sure--" "You asked on the questionnaire; this is my answer." Nick watched as she bounded into action, putting his answers on her desk and retrieving another piece of paper and pen, which she sat on the counter before gathering other items. He felt a bit ill as a thermometer and blood pressure cuff were added to the counter, and she clipped a stethoscope around her neck, ready to use. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea just yet? But he had offered, and when she pulled over a stool, stepped back toward her collected items, and then looked expectantly at him, Nick cautiously sat on the stool. "Do you have any idea what your body temperature is?" she asked him, picking up the thermometer she had gathered. "Not really." "Then open up." Nick pulled back as she raised the thermometer toward his mouth, which he kept stubbornly shut. "Nick, it's this or a liver probe." As the idea of something being jabbed into him bothered him more than her putting the thermometer in his mouth he allowed it. She was rather gentler with it than he had expected; after all, most of her patients couldn't say when she was being too rough. He started a little as she then put the stethoscope's earpieces in her ears and reached for his wrist without much pause. "I just want to check your pulse at your wrist. There's not much point checking your blood pressure if I can't hear your pulse." Nick hesitated a little, but held out his hand and flipped his palm upward. He closed his eyes and his fingers twitched as she touched his hand, holding it in place with one of her own hands and pressing the stethoscope's head to his wrist just under the cuff of his shirt. The metal was cool and her hands hot, which incited his hunger. Once he had forced it back he realised she was still listening, and he looked at her curiously. He pulled the thermometer out with his free hand and asked, "Can you hear anything?" "Ah, yeah, actually. Sort of." She let go of his hand, her eyes darting to the thermometer sitting in the room temperature air. "And put that back in your mouth; it's not going to read anything with you talking." Nick nearly made a joke, but instead did as asked, replacing the thermometer. He watched her scribble something on the piece of paper on the counter, then she seemed to consider the blood pressure sleeve and gauge. "I'm going to need you to roll up your sleeve..." she told him. Nick didn't even nod as she picked up the item, instead just unbuttoning the cuff on the arm that she had checked and rolling up the sleeve as she instructed. "Thanks." He cringed as she slid the sleeve up his arm, her fingers touching more of his skin. Again, he was struck by how gentle she handled him and how she seemed to know just what she was doing with a more or less living patient as with her dead ones. He barely reacted as she again listened, then inflated the cuff, scrunched her forehead up before she had finished with that, then continued to look perplexed as she let it deflate. She did it again without asking...and then a third time, at which she moved her stethoscope to hang on her neck and unhooked the velcro on the cuff with a sigh. "Is something wrong," he mumbled around the thermometer. "Probably not. You ever had that checked?" she asked as she put the blood pressure cuff on the counter. Nick shook his head. "Well, don't let anyone check it unless they know what to expect." "Which is?" "More or less non-existent." "And the other?" he asked, just as she pulled out the thermometer to glance at. "Not sure this is ready," she said, putting the thermometer back. "Your pulse was...not very distinct and rather slow. But it was there--you're not a zombie." He watched as she made another note on her sheet of paper, during which he rolled his shirt-sleeve back down and re-buttoned the cuff. Then, when she hooked the stethoscope back in her ears and came at his chest with it, he couldn't help but pull back, the stool sliding with a screech on the floor. "Nick, I'm not going to hurt you." He tensed at her assurance, then let his eyes look away, behind her as she again moved the stethoscope closer and pressed it against one side of his chest. "Just breathe however you normally breathe." Nick, however, had frozen up completely to the point that he wasn't breathing at all, the thermometer straining against his tightly pressed-together lips. "Er, do you normally hold your breath?" At the reminder he relaxed a little, and tried to not think about what he was doing. After a moment he felt her move the stethoscope to the other side of his chest. "Okay, now slowly take in as deep a breath as you can, release it, and repeat." Nick had to focus a little before he could do as asked, and again she listened to both of his lungs as he breathed in and out. Then she listened for a little at his heart, where for a moment he saw her brow scrunch up again before she listened what felt like several minutes longer. He then sat still as she abruptly pulled the stethoscope off, sat it on the counter, and wrote more notes on the piece of paper. He nearly started as she again took the thermometer from him, which she then stared at a bit. "And?" "Well, I guess this was ready before--it hasn't changed. Ninety, even." "And the other?" he asked curiously. "Completely normal. Your lungs appear to be working just perfectly. No doctor would be able to tell you weren't human." "If not for my heart?" "Well...yes, that's a bit...." "Non-functional," he supplied, but immediately she shook her head at him. "No, not at all; it's functional. It's just rather faint, and as I said before it's slow. Your pulse is closer to two a minute than the normal one or two a second, but it appears to be beating and functioning just fine. Just far more efficiently." Nick watched her walk over to her desk and pick up her questionnaire. He again wished to bolt before she called him on his lack of responses, but he was also curious what had made her react while she had been listening to his heart. She had only done it the once and long after she would have picked out the slow pulse. "What had you reacted to when you were listening to my heart?" She looked over the paper at him, then looked back at the paper. He stood and started to walk toward her. "What--" "Probably nothing. I thought one beat seemed rather loud, normal even, but it was probably my imagination." She again glanced at the sheet, at which she asked, "You didn't put a weight down but as a note you wrote 'Always seems the same'?" "Yes," he confirmed, wondering whether he should say anything. It hadn't been her imagination and she'd find out it was normal for him, eventually. "You don't know how much you weigh? Even a guess?" "I've never had a reason to check." He got a nod, but then she grabbed the pen and paper she had been scribbling notes on and moved closer to him. "Come on, then." He moved out of her way and she walked past him to the doors, where she waited patiently for him. Where was she taking him? Reluctantly, Nick followed, and within moments he had her at a large, built-in scale out in the hall--to weigh those being autopsied. He stopped just before the edge of it. "Go on. If you don't want to see, you can look away from the wall." Nick glanced at her, watching as she placed the papers against the wall and started writing on it. This time he could read and see what she was writing--what he was wearing. When she finished writing and looked at him expectantly, he finally stepped onto the metal plate in the floor. He watched the numbers as they settled--178.2 lbs. He then watched her scribble the number down, do a little math, then she also put down the amount in kilograms. "And, what, you're about five-eleven?" He stepped off the scale at her guess at his height, which was dead on. "Yeah, about that." He watched her scribble on her sheet again, and once done she switched the papers to again look at his answers. "Is there anything else you want to check?" "Ah, not right now. Unless you'd let me take a blood sample, but--" "No," Nick immediately replied. He had been prodded more than enough tonight. This time she didn't press the matter, and just nodded at his refusal. "When do you want me to return?" "Ah, in a couple of nights? I want a chance to look at this," she said as she held up and turned the questionnaire toward him. Nick gave her a nod and started walking away, this time to the ground floor entrance rather than the stairs to the roof. That he was aware she didn't yet know vampires could fly and he didn't want to raise questions. Being examined hadn't been as involved or uncomfortable as he had expected, but he could still feel her touch on his hand and arm. Her gentle, caring, and oh so trusting touch.... *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Four weeks later Nick hesitated outside the morgue. The last few weeks hadn't gone the best, not really. Twice when he had gone to see Dr. Lambert she had been either mid-autopsy or just finished, and both those times he had a hard time focusing on anything but the body on the table. He dreaded going in and finding yet another body tempting, teasing, and repulsing him. She still hadn't hassled him over the missing answers on her questionnaire, which he had been thankful for. He could tell she was annoyed by the blanks, and she had gently tried to pry a few of those answers out during their meetings. He, of course, had shut down at the further questions--in fact, it was often then that he left. At the first meeting she had commented on his mention of drinking cow's blood, and seemed even more trusting and curious about him because of this...quirk. He was a vampire that didn't feed from humans. Or mostly. He had drunk human blood that night in the morgue. He hadn't had much choice. It had been find blood in a bag, feed from and likely kill her, or leave without trying to remedy her knowledge. He also had more human blood hidden at his loft. It was in the freezer; just more bags of blood, either donated or from the morgue. The blood was all rather old--he didn't take it until its shelf life was over as far as useful in other humans went. It was fine for his kind, or at least for himself. Even stale human blood held more life than the freshest cow's blood. He had stolen the blood from the mortals because he hadn't wanted to alert any of the vampires here to his presence in case it got back to LaCroix somehow. He had lived off that grid and fully among mortals for these last two almost blissful decades. At that initial meeting she had asked him more questions about his blood intake--and where he got it. He had hesitated, but answered as truthfully as he dared. Then she had tried to get him to clarify what he had written on the questionnaire and suggested he might try again to cut back on what he drank. He had silently agreed, but knew he would fail. Over the next meetings she had mostly just asked and more formally requested that he cut back his intake, as well as took his vitals again. At the last she had asked he try to drink a little something other than blood and suggested milk or water. It was these nights that she had been working, and these that she had had a patient. He failed again on trying to cut back, and he dreaded telling her that. He had been seeing more and more disappointment in her features, and he hated it. He felt like he wasn't trying hard enough...which he wasn't. He was drawn to this mortal, but he didn't fully trust her or himself. Pushing the door open at their appointed time, Nick watched her glance at him before looking back to whatever she had been doing. "Did you actually try to cut back on your blood intake this week?" He visibly winced at the question being asked so very quickly, but she didn't see. She didn't turn and look sternly at him until the wince had faded. "Okay, I get it. No. Fine. Then you can listen." Nick froze up. Was she going to call him out on his lack of trying? Or would she do something worse and tell him she would no longer help him? "I need a blood sample, Nick. It's not just a matter of wanting it. I need it, and you know it." "I've already--" "Yes, I know." He cut off at her harshly-toned words. She wasn't going to take his answer this time. "You may not like it, but I need it." She paused, then her voice became more frustrated as she added, "At least explain to me why you won't let me take one. And with a real reason, Nick." Nick looked away from her, thinking. He didn't have a real reason--not beyond perhaps what she could do with it. He'd have to allow it, either now or soon. That's why he wanted to try this again, after all, wasn't it? To see what modern science could do for him? She did need a sample of his blood if he wanted her to try. "Is it because you don't trust me? Because you're afraid of what I could do with that sample?" His eyes snapped back at her as her words mirrored some of his thoughts. "Because if it is, you *can* trust me with this. I want to help you, but I need more." Again looking away he turned his body as well, closed his eyes, and gave in with a curt, "Fine." "What?" "I said, fine. You can take your sample." Then he again turned to face her as he clarified, "But one sample and only one." When she started for a drawer he realised she planned to get it right this instant, and he moved quickly forward and stopped her by grabbing her wrist. "Not tonight." Then, when she went to push his hand away, he let go and walked around behind her and toward her desk. There, out in the open, was the paper he had written his answers on--or more precisely it was a copy of that piece of paper--and he snatched it up even as the mortal grabbed for it. He crushed it into a ball in his hand. "You should not keep something like this in plain sight." "It was out because I was looking at it just before you arrived." "That does not matter," he nearly snapped, although knew she had probably figured it didn't matter with him there--and while it didn't, what if someone came in and saw it while he was there? "Fine. I have a copy of it, anyway." "I noticed. Therefore, you do not need this one. And I advise you to destroy the other one." "I also have a handwritten copy. One that doesn't have reference to what you are." Nick had started stuffing the crushed paper in a pocket, but slowed and almost stopped as she said that. So she *was* keeping notes on him. But the question was, where and had she done enough to protect it and him? And, unknowingly, her. "So...did you at least try drinking something other than blood this week?" Nick tried not to fidget and just answered, "I tried." "What?" "As I said, I *tried.*" And he had; just water, and he had ended up spitting it out before he had managed to swallow. Then he had felt as though he was about to lose his last meal for over an hour. "Nick, just say what you're trying to tell me. What happened?" "I did not succeed. I seriously doubt you want a full description." Just thinking about it made him feel queasy, and he changed the subject back to their last one, "Now, when would you like to take the blood sample?" "Well, I'd 'like' to take it now. However, since that's not an option, sometime within the next week should work, preferably sooner than later." "Then I will see you next week, Doctor." He got a lazy nod as she looked back toward her desk, and he left. A blood sample. A vampire blood donor. He nearly smiled at that. The idea of giving the sample didn't bother him near as much as the first time she had asked, although his thoughts were somewhat tainted by her mention of notes on him. He wanted to get at least a glimpse of it...if he could. If she had locked it up as he hoped, that would be impossible without her knowledge. Elusive Gains - Nick - (05/26) Ever since the rather short meeting the previous week, Nick had teetered between dreading having his blood drawn and curious what she would find. He had nearly not come, but he did. She had started out by asking, again, if he had managed to cut back what he was drinking. When he hadn't answered, she had moved on to asking if he had again tried to drink anything other than blood. At that he had actually answered with a shake of his head; he had seen her frustration at that. Then, of course, she had asked about getting a blood sample. His vision blurred oddly at the question, and he stared across the room. He still felt unsure of it...not quite ready to be more directly tested. He wanted to leave, but he seemed held in place by some invisible force, and frankly he had agreed. "Nick, I asked you a question," came her voice, loud and even. Nick slowly turned to face her, but to be honest he didn't quite remember her question...beyond that it was about his promise he'd allow a blood sample. Had she asked if she could take it? Or had she maybe even asked if he wanted to do it another day...he'd take doing it another day... "You mentioned I could get the blood sample I wanted." He didn't reply; yes, he had said that. He tensed ever so slightly as he felt her heart beat harder, faster, and she started gathering items again--this time a needle, two vials, and a tourniquet. He eyed the items with worry. "You promised I could, and you know I really need this. Please, Nick. It's simple and would tell me a lot. Besides, you said I could." Nick glared at each item as she started to prepare, first putting gloves on and then she took the needle and pushed one of the vials in place. His eyes drifted to the second vial as her eyes landed on him. "I could take a tissue sample instead? Or a sperm sample?" He turned and glared at her at that; a blood sample would be far easier for both of them. Nick shifted uncomfortably at the alternatives, then once again undid the cuff of his shirt and pushed the sleeve up so that the crook of his arm was accessible. He was thankful when she held out a stretchy band to use as a tourniquet, and he took it and managed to tie it and tighten it on his own after a couple of tries. He really didn't want her touching him extensively during this; just feeling and smelling the blood being taken from him would entice him enough. Nick reached for the needle when she didn't immediately move forward. If he could take the sample that would make it even easier...but her hand darted back and away. "I'd much prefer to take the sample myself." Nick pulled his hand back and instead held out his other arm. He flinched at her warm gloved hands as they moved his arm to the counter, then she nodded to the stool nearby and told him to sit. Once he did, she gently pierced his skin with the needle and easily managed to hit a vein on the first try. Now, with his blood flowing slowly into the glass vial, he had a renewed urge to get up and leave. He felt himself weakening slightly, his body wanting to hold onto the blood. Trying to focus on something other than the vial, he looked right at his mortal doctor. Almost immediately she seemed reabsorbed in her task, and he could feel the needle move slightly as she popped off one vial and put on the second. He got a whiff of his own blood, then he seemed to have zoned out as before he knew it she had removed the needle and untied the tourniquet with a single, simple movement. "That wasn't so bad, now-- Nick?" As soon as he was free he had stood and turned, pulling his shirt-sleeve down and refastening the cuff. His eyes had changed with the second hint of blood and he didn't particularly want her to see. He wanted and needed blood. "When would you like me to return, Doctor?" "It'll take me a couple of days to do the tests I want. How about three nights from now?" "That's fine." He walked over to the autopsy table where he had placed his jacket and slipped it on, still keeping his gaze turned away even though he had regained control. "And Nick...? Please, I would really prefer if you started using my name." He spun and glared at her, his eyes on the verge of changing again. "Good night, *Doctor*," he told her, his last word harsh, and then he left without another glance to her. Nick went to the roof again, where he paused with his eyes closed waiting for calmness to overcome him. It didn't. Her plea that she preferred he use her name--which he knew meant her first name, Natalie, rather than more formally as Dr. Lambert--rang in his ears. He couldn't and wouldn't use her first name. He needed to keep distance between them, or as much as possible. That meant keeping her name formal. He didn't even allow himself to think of her as Natalie, or even rarely as Dr. Lambert. She was just the mortal helping him. The mortal *trying* to help him. She was not his friend. He had let that happen before and both sides had been worse off. She was safer--far safer--if she remained his doctor and only his doctor. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Three nights later Nick had gone by the morgue as requested, but he had gone in earlier than would be expected. He was pleased to find that she wasn't in her office, nor did she have any patients prepared for her. He was there to make yet another attempt at finding her notes on him. He just wanted a glimpse and to make sure she was keeping who and what he was well hidden. He let the door shut silently behind him, holding it until it just barely contacted and sat slightly ajar. While he much preferred to make an attempt at it when she wasn't scheduled, that didn't seem to be working. She had it locked up, somewhere. He figured his best chance to find her notes would be to try before or after his visits--when she most likely might be looking in it or adding to it. She might unlock it and just put it somewhere out of sight for a moment... He looked in the usual spots: The cabinets and the unlocked drawers of her desk, as well as any obvious places like the top of the desk. In the shallow top middle drawer of her desk he spotted something promising. It was a black, leather bound journal of sorts. Nick closed his eyes and listened for sounds in the hall for a moment; he didn't want her coming back as he raided her desk. With the surrounding parts of the building silent, he pulled out the thin book, set it on the desk, and slowly shut the drawer. He hesitated before opening it, but he couldn't very well tell if it was her notes on him without looking. Carefully flipping it open, Nick found the first several pages blank. He smiled a little at that. Then, when he came across a page with writing, he found it very impersonal. She referred to him initially as 'an unnamed subject', and after that it was just the last. The only thing he felt uneasy about is her use of the word 'cure' in reference to making him mortal. It was his word, and while perfectly innocent there on the page it made him feel a bit nervous. His vampirism she referred to as a 'rare condition'. However frustrated or annoyed she had been with him, it didn't show much in the entries...or not the first. She flipped several pages to find the most recent, but it was just the same: "Subject hesitantly allowed a blood sample, which I believe will be a tremendous step forward. Initial tests reveal much. Have enquired regarding the possibility to access more advanced testing equipment." Nick frowned at the last. She not only came in at times when she didn't have to be there, but she was apparently also haggling to get access to other equipment. How much time had she spent testing his blood the last few days? Startling at hearing someone in the hall, Nick simultaneously flipped the notebook shut, picked it up, and stood; then he flew to the other side of the door just before it was pushed open. He remained still, both relieved and not seeing Natalie enter and walk toward her desk, where she shuffled through a couple of files, took a folder, and spun probably to leave...where she came to a halt as she saw him, her body telling her to flee if her heart were any indication. Holding up the notebook, Nick blandly told her, "You should not keep records of this." He held her gaze, even as she clenched her jaw and her attention shifted momentarily to the notebook. She looked livid. "Nick, if I'm going to track your progress--see what does and doesn't help--I need records," she told him matter-of-factually. "Besides, if you've seen them, read my entries, then you know there is no mention of your name or what you are. I've been very careful with what I write down, and I've destroyed the original questionnaire as you suggested. There's nothing for anyone to find." As she had spoken, Nick had approached slowly, walking past the doors. He didn't really need her explanation, but that she had destroyed the questionnaire pleased him. He mainly wanted to make it clear he wasn't thrilled with her note-taking. Not looking away from her, he set the notebook on the counter. "Nick, I can't do anything to help you unless you cooperate with me." He nodded toward the thin, black book, then asked her point-blank, "Are you sure this is worth wasting your time on?" "Is that what you think of this? 'Wasting time'?" Nick looked away. He could hear her anger, but how could she not have thought of it as 'wasting time' at some point? She was frustrated with him, he knew it. Even he felt that way a little. "I'm doing this because I believed it was something you really wanted, Nick. That this meant something more than some game, some random thought. If you think this is 'wasting time', I'll stop right now and you can go find someone else that, unlike me, just might share what they learn to the world or see you as nothing more than an experimental subject." Nick's attention snapped back on Natalie as he inwardly panicked. "This is something I want," he told her, his words and voice betraying some of his worry. "Then you need to work with me." He tried not to pace or look away, but it was difficult and he knew his guard had dropped even further. "And you're not, Nick. Perhaps you are coming here, meeting me, and perhaps partially doing as I ask, but you can try harder. And if we're going to do this, you need to trust me." Nick's gaze drifted a little to the side, and he shifted, wondering if she wanted him to leave...or if he should, regardless. "Nick, if you want to do this, you have to work with me. Is that too much to ask?" He nearly shook his head, but he couldn't and just pulled back a little, first falsely starting, his lips parting before he managed to admit to her, "This is...hard for me. You have to understand that. To trust you, to trust myself in this is...difficult." "I can't understand why you're hesitant unless you tell me why." Nick just took that in, knowing it was true; but he couldn't tell her everything. She seemed to have guessed he might have had some previous bad experiences in his quest--or at least the potential for them if he tried this again with someone else. "And you're not going to do that, are you?" Now he looked away. Sometimes she seemed to be able to read him so well. Not wanting to talk about their possibly failing working relationship, Nick turned back to her with his defences once again up and asked, "What did you want to discuss about my blood samples?" "Nothing for now, other than to say your blood is quite different than a human's." "But?" "But it's not as different as you might think, Nick. And.... Nick, I do want another sample in four nights." Nick tensed. Another sample. "And, as I assume you haven't yet tried to cut back on your blood intake, I want you to make a detailed list of when, what, and how much blood you're drinking. Don't do anything different." He just stared forward at first, digesting her requests. He wasn't ready to give more blood samples. "The second is fine," he replied. "However, I told you I would allow a blood sample. One. No more." "I need a baseline, Nick. And I need to be able to see the effects of changing your diet." "I can tell you the effects," he offered. "I already have." "Nick..." He bowed his head. They were both frustrated, and he suspected she wasn't going to budge. "Without knowing exactly what it's doing we don't know for sure what helps and what doesn't. Without multiple blood samples, I don't know if I have representative results. You have to trust me on this, and you can." Listening to her, Nick could see her point. She would need more blood samples if they ever got close. He would have to let her do what she wished in regards to this, he supposed. Otherwise they might not get anywhere. "You've been a doctor before, I'm sure of it. If you want, you can take the samples yourself. I have no problem with that. But I need the samples. And, if by chance you have done this before, whether on your own or working with someone, please share that information with me. All of it." Nick stiffened; again, she had guessed something about him. While he hadn't been a doctor, not a full-fledged doctor like her, he did have enough knowledge to take his own blood samples. She must have guessed when he had hopefully reached for the needle. Regarding the rest, he hesitantly told her, "No, I haven't done this before...not recently, not with the technology and knowledge that's available now." He turned slightly away in preparation for more prodding about his past experiences. "When were you a doctor? Where?" He shot a glare back at her, not expecting to be asked about that. "No personal questions. I've made that clear and that isn't changing." Then, realising he had been a bit harsh, he conceded, "However, I will allow you to continue as you wish. You may take more blood samples, if that is what you need. Is that all?" "No, I want to give you something," she replied while shaking her head. Nick watched as she reached back to her desk and pulled a small piece of paper out from under a stack of folders...and then she held it out to him. He eyed it from afar. "What is it?" "It is my home address, home phone, and work phone." "I don't need them," he quickly replied. "Because you already know what they are or because you want to keep your distance from me? If it's the former, I'm not angry. I'm sure you've learned what you can about me, likely watched me far more than I'm aware. If it's the latter--I'm the one that's offering, not you. I'm not going to ask where you live or what your phone number is, but I do want you to be able to contact me if you either need or want to." Nick shrank back ever so slightly, glaring at the note. Tonight she was guessing a lot about his thoughts. He did know her home address, obviously; he had followed her and then broken into her apartment soon after they had met. And he was trying to keep his distance. It wouldn't do any harm if he took it, would it? He could burn it when he got home if he wished. "Please, Nick. You don't have to take it, but I'd rather you did. Do whatever you want with it, but please do take it." He ever so carefully pulled the note from her grasp, at which he folded it in half and put it in a pocket without a glance. "Satisfied?" "Yes." Nick quickly spun and pushed through the doors to leave. He couldn't help but think her 'yes' was a lie. He was able to read her frustration through her words; she wasn't the only one who was getting good at guessing what the other was feeling. And he would do better. He had to. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. As the weeks passed, Nick did as asked providing weekly blood samples and a record of his blood intake, down to the tiniest ounce. He had even managed, at her continued questioning, to drink a few sips of water without spitting it out. She had shown a bit of rare thrill at that, but it hadn't lasted. Again, several times he had come in and found a body on the table. After the second time that happened, he had started bringing in a typed up list, drawn the blood samples himself, and left both on her desk. With cutting back on the blood he was having trouble being in the room with either a fresh or not-so-fresh corpse. He wasn't sure which was worse...the smell of blood or that of decomposition. She hadn't been thrilled with his drop-offs. After all, that meant if she had anything to tell him or ask him to do or change she couldn't until the following week...at the earliest. The last couple of weeks the morgue had been corpse-free, and he faintly wondered if she realised either consciously or unconsciously what was keeping him away on the other nights. Tonight was another meeting, and he entered autopsy to find the room dark. The lights were off, and there was no sign of her things when he looked. A hint of worry flitted through his thoughts, and then he spied a note taped to her computer screen with his name on it. Yanking it down, Nick hastily unfolded it. His worry changed quickly to anger. Inside the note simply said, "Please meet me at my apartment this week," with her address and apartment number written beneath it. The last few weeks had gone relatively well...maybe too well. He had felt more comfortable talking about his blood intake with her; apparently she had decided he might bend his rule of keeping their meetings here at her office. He wouldn't. He would rather call her by her first name and continue here at the morgue than take an official invitation to her home. Nick crumpled the note in his hand, which he promptly tossed in her own trash bin. Then he pulled out his own note--a typed up list of his intake of blood over the past week. He almost just wrote her name on it as usual and left it on her desk and that was it, but after he had started for the doors he had stopped and somewhat reluctantly took more blood samples for her. Since he didn't know when she'd be in, he put the test tubes in with other samples from her job. He put a note both with the vials and added where they were below her name on the sheet he had brought. He hesitated before leaving, hoping neither his blood nor the notes would go astray. And dreading the following week. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. "Good evening, Doctor," Nick said as he arrived for his next weekly meeting, where he found her facing away from him fiddling with something on her desk. Natalie spun, then told him, "Good evening," in a tone that matched his. Then, she stiffened and glared at him. "Why didn't you come by my apartment last week? I specifically told you to come. It was not an offer of hospitality." Nick had been prepared for this question, and he replied, "Whatever the case, I told you all discussions would be held here. Nowhere else." He watched anger to flicker in her eyes, and then he heard an almost inaudible sigh. "I figured you'd say something like that. So, I brought with me what I was going to make for you last week. It's not quite as fresh, and I had wanted your reaction to it." "To what?" he asked, caught off guard by the change in what they were doing. His eyes followed her as she walked to a refrigerator and pulled out a plastic cup with a snap-top lid. He looked at it suspiciously as she turned toward him and started walking slowly closer. "It's a...health drink of a sort. Basically a high-protein, nutrient-rich drink." Just the description made Nick nearly gag and he averted his gaze. It didn't help that he could smell it faintly. "Nick...we've tried cutting the blood back. You said you can't eat most solid foods, but seem to have a bit more luck with liquids. Yes, I know you said you can't really drink anything, either, but... Think of it as blood that's not quite blood?" He tried to look at the container, tried to look remotely interested, but he just couldn't. It would have been nice if she had mentioned something about her plans before she had actually made it up...so he could prepare. "Come on, I even made it red and did what I could to make it as blood-like as I could. It should, hopefully, be better than most liquids. And I guarantee that it won't kill you." Nick couldn't move. He both wanted to get as far away from the proffered drink as well as to reach out for it and do as she asked, but his body wouldn't move in either direction. From focusing on it, the liquid's scent had become stronger, and that he wasn't sure what, quite, it smelled like didn't help matters. While all mortal food smelled revolting, at least he could usually tell what it was. This, he couldn't even guess at, although suspected it had a large amount of cow's milk in it. He unconsciously cringed back with his continued mixed emotions regarding what to do. "Fine. Do what you want, Nick. I'm going *home*. Either take the shake and try it, or leave it. I'll see you next week, or I won't. You decide. I can't help you unless you let me, and you're not letting me. Choose one. Unlike you, I don't have all eternity to wait for you to make up your mind." Nick just barely registered as Natalie had put the shake down, then she went to the door...and then finally she just left. His eyes had been on the shake; he didn't even quite realise she had left until the door swung shut. Nick just stood there for what felt like and had to be minutes, her words once again ringing in his ears. She was trying to help him, she really was, but he wasn't trying hard enough in return...or not that she saw. He couldn't help his reaction to her prepared shake for him. Her last words were just another reminder of how much time she was spending on him along with the shake itself; how many times had she tried before she came to this version? And he had just... Closing his eyes, he braced himself and then approached the innocent-looking plastic container on the counter. Reaching out to pull off the lid, however, he hesitated. What was the point? She wasn't there to see his reaction. Even if he tasted it she'd never believe his belated response. While she was giving him a way out of working with her...maybe she expected him to take it? Maybe she wanted a way out, too? Nick snatched his hand back, turned the light out, then hesitantly left for home with the plan to start packing. Elusive Gains - Nick - (06/26) Nick had gone home and started packing, but it hadn't lasted long before he started pacing...and then morning came. Over the next week he swung between leaving and staying. When he realised he had continued to keep a record of what he was drinking and that was probably his answer whether to stay or go, it had been the day before their next meeting. And then he had missed it as he had literally slept right through it after being awake, worrying, trying to decide, until late in the afternoon. She was supposed to work that night, so he was sure he still could have gone in, but she had been so very angry with him.... He couldn't help but think that he should just leave, that maybe that's what she was hoping. But leaving wasn't quite simple. He wanted her notebook. He wouldn't leave without having it in his possession or knowing it had been destroyed. While he was sure nothing in it would reveal him or his kind, it was a formal record of their work and questions would be raised if anyone saw it. Worse, Natalie was a resistor. If LaCroix came looking the notebook would be her death...possibly both their deaths. That was another issue. He had to make sure she wouldn't answer any questions about him if asked. While LaCroix was usually blunt and she would very possibly realise what he was...he could also blend in perfectly if it suited his needs. He'd have to think of some way to either force her to forget, scare her, or think up some explanation that didn't mention LaCroix. Getting the notebook, however, proved difficult. He had gone back to following her, watching her, and like before she rarely went anywhere beyond work or to get groceries. His only chance to get it were to either steal it--break into her locked drawers and just take it--or catch her whenever she gave up. And then, after nearly two weeks of watching, finally he caught her putting the notebook in her car shortly before dawn on what would have been her lunch break. As soon as she had disappeared back inside he had gone for her car, which he quickly found was locked. Nick hadn't been too upset--at least he now knew where it was and could get it. All he needed do was wait at her apartment. He would then be able to speak to her a moment, try to impress upon her the importance of keeping her knowledge of him to herself, and then he could prepare and leave...which wouldn't be instantaneous. His apartment was in a state of disarray as he kept packing and then subsequently unpacking different items. Some things he hadn't even touched since they'd been delivered, which would help, but he hadn't even considered where he'd try again to start a new life. He wished he'd have gone ahead and packed and decided where to move. While she didn't know where he lived, as long as he was here he might be tempted to beg for another chance. He flew to her apartment, the brightening dawn singing him as he came within blocks of her apartment. He had to walk the remaining distance, both to not be seen and to not be burned. She wouldn't be home for hours. Nick let himself in via the windows again; thankfully they were still unlocked. Her grey and white cat came to investigate immediately, but this time it hissed and darted out of sight even before Nick had fixed the curtains. He wondered in passing if it was just him that caused that reaction, or if the cat was that way with its owner? If so, no wonder she was frustrated with him. For the next several hours Nick alternatively sat on her sofa or paced. At one point the cat cautiously poked its head around a corner to look at him, and this time it was Nick that hissed, baring his fangs. He had no desire to be constantly pestered by the animal as he waited. During one of his pacing sessions Nick halted upon hearing footsteps and then keys in the hall. He was a fair distance from the door, and he merely had time to turn toward it and stiffen as the door was unlocked, Natalie came in with her attention down on her keys, then she turned and closed and relocked the door. "Good morning, Doctor," he greeted, his eyes on the notebook in her hands which nearly fell as she started and turned. "Nick, what are you doing here. It's...uh, Nick, it's almost eleven in the morning. The sun's--" Ignoring her babbling he ordered, "*Give me the notebook*," pushing a little with his words. "Why?" she asked, cautiously approaching. Nick was a little taken aback at her quick and simple response. She hadn't responded at all to his mental prodding. "What did you do with my cat?" When Nick didn't immediately answer, her anger crept back in to her voice as she added, "Fine, don't answer." Her comment was just another reminder of their last meeting and Nick looked away, not wanting her to see how much it bothered him. Focusing on why he was there, he answered her original question, "You asked what I'm doing here? Perhaps I'm here because this obviously isn't going to work." He watched her shake her head as she put her things down--except the notebook. "No, Nick. It's not going to work unless you want it to, unless you really want it to work and work for it. And you have to make that choice. You have to decide if you want this, and then you have to work with me, you have to cooperate. Otherwise, I can do nothing for you." His eyes narrowed at her response. She seemed to still be leaving things open. She wasn't going to just agree and give him her notes and that be it. The horrible thing was he wanted to keep working with her on his cure. He did want to; really, he did. "You trust me far too easily," he told her as he wasn't sure whether or how to reply to the other. "I am not like you." "No, you're not. But you're human. Perhaps not mortal, but human." "I am *not* human," he nearly hissed, then laughed at the absurdity of her refutation of his comments. He let his carefully controlled exterior to break, allowing the vampire he was to begin to show as he smirked at her, his fangs itching to descend. "You seem to keep overlooking that. I drink blood. I've killed--" "But you don't anymore, you don't want to kill. You want to be mortal." "How can you be sure I've told you the truth about that? Any of it?" His eyes burned yellow as he smiled somewhat manically. "And how can you be so sure that I won't kill again in the future? Perhaps soon. Perhaps even you?" "I don't think you would." His anger flared at her continued trust in him. They were only a few steps apart, and without warning he moved forward, grabbed her roughly and spun her, then pulled her neck to the side as if he were to kill her. He was careful not to move his lips anywhere near her neck as he told her, "Another second and I could kill you. You'd be dead," he roughly whispered. Her heart pounded, but not much more than if he had startled her. She wasn't nearly as frightened as she should be. "But I'm not. You won't kill me. I know you won't." Nick pulled her chin back, forcing her jaw closed and preventing any further comment. Yes, she was far too trusting of him. He leaned over, whispering into her ear, "Killing is natural for me. It is what my body is made for. To kill. You have underestimated me, Doctor. You might think that there is good in me, think that you have seen it, but there isn't. There hasn't been for a long time. I'm not sure there can be." He released her, skirting around her even as she touched her neck where he had grabbed her. Somehow she had kept hold of the notebook, and he didn't dare try to take it now with his body demanding blood, demanding some sort of victim. He turned his back on her and started for the door. "Nick, everything, everyone has good in them. And there's more good than evil in the world, and there's more good than evil in people. That includes you." Nick paused at her words; he was utterly failing in the reasons for his visit. Fine, he would continue with her game and let her try to reason with him, and he turned with a smirk. "Really? Why would you think that?" "If there wasn't, I'd be dead. If there wasn't, I--or anyone else for that matter--certainly wouldn't be helping you. We wouldn't have police or fire-fighters, we certainly wouldn't have doctors. If there wasn't good in the world, the human race probably would have blown up the planet by now or otherwise blundered so badly we wouldn't be capable of talking to each other right now." "Who says that won't happen in the future? Perhaps it just hasn't happened yet." "Nick, you've had the opportunity to kill me countless times. You could have easily taken my blood instead of what was in the fridge that night. You're good whether you believe it or not. Perhaps not perfect, but who is? I'm certainly not perfect. And Nick, you've got far more good than evil in you. I'm sure of it." Nick's guard dropped as she mentioned their first meeting--she was right about that. Most vampires would have probably killed her without a thought. And he hadn't really thought of her as having flaws; she was human, mortal, what he wanted to be. He turned his head to the side with confusion about why she seemed to care about him. He didn't change back, but he no longer had the severe want for blood, and he asked, "How can you believe this?" "I have to, Nick. If there weren't any good in the world, what would be the point to life? How could life be seen as positive? How could evil even exist, how could it be defined?" Nick stepped back as she moved toward him; she wasn't afraid of him at all. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Nick, if you still want this, I...I would be willing to try working with you again. But you have to work with me and you will, eventually, have to trust me. I'm not asking for an instant change, but I'll have to see progress." He felt the vampire go into hiding. This visit was not at all what he expected, and his loose plan to leave rapidly fell apart in his mind. She was giving him the option to continue despite his previous hesitancy to cooperate. And she still didn't think he was evil, even though he had surely caused her some pain. Confused and a bit stunned, Nick reached behind him for the doorknob, then quickly unlocked it and slipped out. He flew out of sight when he found the corridor deserted, stopping only as he reached the ground floor and outside doors. The sun was high overhead; he was trapped there for at least a few more hours. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Arriving home mid-afternoon, Nick immediately went for the fridge. By now he needed blood for burns as well as his unsettled emotions. He had emptied two and a half bottles of cow's blood before he stopped, and then he threw the last one, letting it shatter against a wall. Then he started frantically packing once more, not even bothering to clean up the glass. He needed something to do other than sit and think. He did enough of that in a stairwell in Natalie's apartment building, and then he left when he didn't like the company of his thoughts any more. Packing didn't work so well, either. Then, going through stuff he'd not want to keep, he nearly threw another bottle. It was wine, nearly full. He tolerated alcohol a little better than other liquids, and had bought a bottle in his attempt to try drinking something, anything other than blood for Natalie. The wine had fared little better than water and he hadn't even told her about it. The wine made his thoughts again turn back to Natalie. He still didn't understand how he could trust her so much and be so willing to help him. Sitting in the stairwell, however, he realised it probably wasn't trust, not solely. She cared about him. She cared about what he wanted. She barely knew him--all she knew was he was a roughly 800-year-old vampire who didn't want to be a vampire to the point that he drank cow's blood, and that he had given her the name 'Nick'--but she cared. And he was barely giving her a chance, keeping her at arm's length and trying, desperately, not to care what she thought. But he did, or at least he was starting to. It was hard to admit even to himself that he cared both what happened to her and what she thought. He felt drawn to her, but worried if he befriended her his feelings would turn into something more, something even more dangerous. He had killed those he cared about before. Lately his life had been relatively uninterrupted and unjudged; it was time for something to go horribly wrong. Nick fiddled with the bottle of wine, wishing he were mortal so he could drink himself unconscious, kill off his thoughts for a few hours or even days. Not that it would really solve anything. He still needed to decide what to do. Did he go ahead and leave, probably resorting to stealing the notebook and not talking to Natalie again? Or did he go to her and tell her he wished to resume working with her? He wanted the latter. Worse, she wanted him to do what *he* wanted to do. He didn't even know whether she really wanted him to try again, but he supposed if she was asking, if she was giving him the choice, that meant she was willing, didn't it? Losing interest in the idea of trying to purge his belongings, Nick headed back to the kitchen, the bottle of wine still in his hand. If he was going to do this, the shake from a few weeks ago made it clear to him he'd be ingesting other non-blood drink and maybe even food. The wine was the closest thing to 'food' he had. He set it gently on the counter, where he then stared at it. It made him feel nauseous just like that shake had. And hungry. The faint blood-scent emanating from the closest wall didn't help, and he went for the fridge again. This time he opened the freezer, his eyes locked on the frozen units of human blood. He hadn't actually drank any human blood since that night he had woken on Natalie's autopsy table. Before that it had been some time, and now today he was craving it. He wasn't just hungry, or wanting blood in general, but he specifically wanted human blood. Nick closed his eyes and forced himself to shut the door to the freezer. He wouldn't, couldn't...and yet he knew he would. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Two mornings later, Nick had done just that. The half-dozen bags of human blood were gone. So was all the wine--three bottles, total--plus a very old bottle of very strong bourbon. Two of the bottles of wine and the bourbon he had found during fits of packing and unpacking. He was even running low on cow's blood, which was saying something given how much he bottled at a time. He felt...strange. The wine he had initially tried to drink on his own as a preparation for...he didn't know what now... When it hadn't gone so well, making him throw it and his previous meal up in the sink, he had cut it with thawed human blood. That had gone over much better, and soon all of it had been fully polished off. So had the bourbon that morning. He hadn't slept since...nearly three days go. He had tried, but his thoughts were just too frantic. He had made it nearly a day after returning to the loft and starting at the blood in the freezer before he finally caved. It had been downhill from there. Very downhill. So downhill that he was outside, at ten in the morning, and he barely felt his burns. He was heading to Natalie's apartment for...he wasn't entirely sure, but that's where he was going. She was the only thing on his mind and he either had to talk to her, now, or...something. With how he felt right now he had a hard time not latching on to the heartbeats of mortals he passed. Some looked at him oddly, backed away from him when he had to walk in less deserted areas. He barely noticed that, either. It took him far less time to get to her place than it had to get back to his two days before, and only once he arrived at the door to her apartment did he hesitate. Standing still, he felt his exhaustion start to take over...coupled with the blood and alcohol he had drunk he was about as close to being drunk as a vampire could get. He hit a button by her door and waited. Nothing. Leaning up against the wall next to her door, he hit it again, closed his eyes, and listened for movement. Could she be at work? He waited, nearly hitting the button again when he heard movement beyond the door. A moment later, he heard the lock, and he opened his eyes as the door opened, Natalie peeking cautiously around it to find him, then she opened it wider. She looked worried, but he was having trouble focusing on anything other than her blood and at first he didn't look right at her. "Nick? Nick, what's wrong? What happened?" He grinned rather oddly, then closed his eyes trying to concentrate on what he wanted to say, what he wanted to tell her. "Nick?" came her voice again, sounding closer. "You think there's good in the world," he stated as he once again looked at her, his words rough from his state and his descended fangs. "You think there's good in me." His eyes slid momentarily to her neck, her fast and growing faster pulse pulling him in. Her cat hissed from somewhere behind her, and he shifted, turning to face her a bit more. He barely registered her hand on his arm...until she tugged him forward, at which he yanked back and stumbled slightly even as he clung to the side of the hall. She hadn't responded to his comments, and he tried and asked again, "Tell me, Doctor, do you really think that? That there's good in me?" "If I didn't, I wouldn't still be standing here, trying to get you to come in. Now please, Nick, come inside." Nick inched back as she again reached for his arm. Then, when she stepped backward into her apartment, holding the door open, he cautiously entered, his eyes switching to her cat until it darted away. He didn't come to a stop until he heard the door shut, at which he felt trapped. Her blood called to him again, but he continued across the room to a window where he glanced out into the bright light. It was painful, but even as he was forced to let go, he touched the curtains again. "Ni--" "The touch of the sun's rays is pleasant to mortals," he commented, again pulling the fabric to the side, letting light in. "You miss it, don't you?" "Sometimes," he whispered, his attention still on the window. Having already pushed his body to its limits, he abruptly breathed out and pulled the curtains shut. Then he turned, rolling back so that he was leaning back against the nice, solid wall by the window. "Why are you here, Nick?" "I'm not sure," he honestly told her. He could barely piece together his thoughts, barely think enough to respond to her. "You've been drinking." "Yes," he answered with another odd, intoxicated grin. "Blood and wine." "Cow's blood, or human blood?" Nick closed his eyes at the oh so perceptive question. "Both. Cow's blood. Then human. And then the wine...more blood and yet more wine...." he half-mumbled. "If you're going to work toward a cure, you can't do this." Nick's eyes drifted away. He knew that. He could have sworn she had told him that before, or maybe it was just her voice in his subconscious that had done so? "Can I at least ask why you did this, what triggered it?" "The hunger. I needed something." "But why? You've told me that you always want blood, whether you need it or not. Why is this time different?" "I was thinking, and it just happened. I couldn't...." He shook his head, still confused and finally spilt his thoughts. "You're not frightened of me. No matter what I do, you keep offering your kindness. I can't understand that. I'm not sure I could even believe this was real after our last conversation. How can a mortal doctor want to help something that's sole purpose for existing is to kill?" "Because you want to change that and because I am a doctor." Nick absently nodded. It made sense put so plainly. "I wasn't sure I could believe it at first. I mean...your kind murders each other. In--" He abruptly cut off, realising if he wasn't careful he would tell her more than intended. "What? In what, Nick?" "In eight hundred years I've seen things that should never be spoken of. Especially this last century. So may horrors, so much death...and yet as you said there are still good things, good people." "Eight hundred years? Is that...how long you've been alive, or how long you've been a vampire?" Nick hesitated, but he was there and as he wanted to work with her he slowly answered, "It's...how long I've been alive." Figuring now was as good a time as any, he told her, "I was brought across in 1228." "So you were born in...?" He instinctively glared at Natalie at the question. "It's okay, you don't have to answer. I was just curious." Nick closed his eyes, wishing he had the energy to apologise and answer her. Instead, he let himself slide down the wall. He needed sleep. He needed to leave, but wasn't sure he could. Suddenly Nick realised Natalie wasn't there, and then there she was again, kneeling right next to him. Feeling a warm washcloth touch his face he automatically pushed and held her hand away. "If it hurts, I can stop." Realising he had done it again, Nick released her arm, allowing her to continue to dab at his burns. It did hurt, but he was too dazed to react and the warm cloth felt surprisingly good on his tender skin. "You're healing well." "They were minor burns," he told her as she continued, then stopped. "What about more serious burns?" "They hurt a bit more, take longer to heal." Nick shook his head slightly. "But you can't understand. It's different than being burned as a mortal." "How different?" Nick lolled his head against the wall to look at her curiously. He almost smiled, amused by her genuine interest, her want to learn. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to." "I want to," he quickly told her. "I need to, I suppose, don't I?" He rolled his head back and looked blankly at the other side of the room, thinking how to answer. "The pain is sharper, deeper as a vampire, especially when from fire and sunlight," he began, pausing as his thoughts went darker, filled with brightness and pain. "You don't forget the more serious burns. They...make a strong imprint in memory, reinforcing the instinctual fear." "And fire and sunlight can also kill you." He nodded at the statement. "Yes. But we will heal as long as we're not consumed." Nick sat for a moment, his vision blurring momentarily, and then he shifted, putting his weight on his hands in order to get to his knees, where he leaned against the wall. Then, with difficulty, he made it to his feet and muttered, "I...I should go." "No, it's day," she protested, shaking her head at him. "It would be better for you to stay here." Nick then found his path to the door blocked. It was clear to him that if he went to leave she would probably grab him to stop him. He would then either hurt her or probably fall to the floor with how he felt. If he could stay that would probably be best, although he didn't particularly want to. "Are you certain?" "Yes, I'm certain. You can sleep in my room if you want. I have better window coverings in there." Nick quickly shook his head at the mention of sleeping in her room. That would be too much, her scent would be too strong. "No, here is fine." "The couch isn't very big...." "I'll be fine," he repeated, nearly snapping at her. "I'll go get a pillow and blanket." "I don't need them, it's fine," he protested, but she had already started away from him. He turned away from where Natalie had gone, and faced the window. Then he played with the drapes again, although more cautiously than he had earlier. He could just see the shadow of leaves on a nearby tree outlined by the bright sunlight. "I'm...going to head to bed. If you need anything, just knock on my door. Nick?" He let go of the curtains and turned, finding her looking rather worried. "Thank you, Doctor," he softly said with a nod. She seemed to want to say something, but when she didn't he prodded the drapes again in the hopes that she would leave him there. She did. Nick's attention slowly moved to the couch, where a pillow and folded-up quilt sat in a neat pile. Almost immediately he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him for a split second; he needed sleep, and badly. He, however, wasn't sure if he could sleep with her so close by. But he did trust she wouldn't try to kill him or harm him as he slumbered, and the cat had retreated to her bedroom long ago. And, more than anything, he was absolutely exhausted. He'd collapse eventually if he didn't allow his body to recuperate from his injuries--the burns and the alcohol. He closed his eyes for a moment, then made his way slowly over to the couch. Sitting next to the quilt and pillow, he moved the former to the coffee table--he didn't need it. The pillow he moved to one of the arms of the couch, and then he lay down, shifting until he felt comfortable, his arms crossed over his heart. He passed out before he could even think about trying to sleep. Elusive Gains - Nick - (07/26) Nick startled awake and found himself covered with the quilt. When she had done that, he had no idea. He felt much better, much more himself and focused, and he had the strong urge to leave even though he could tell it was still day...and Natalie was looking at him, walking closer. "How do you feel?" "I'm fine," he reflexively replied, his eyes darting toward the door. "I really should go." "Stay, at least until sunset. Please, Nick?" He continued to stare toward the door, but didn't stand or start toward it. "I would like to continue our conversation from earlier. Perhaps not now, but soon. If you do want to keep working on this, that is." His eyes moved away from the door, darting from object to object in the room at her mention of possibly continuing to work on his cure. He did want that, and he knew talking to her about what and who he was would have to be part of that. "Yes. Perhaps," he replied, more to himself than her. "You seem awfully...normal now." "You mean considering what I was like when I got here? Considering how much I drank?" He gave her a small smile as she nodded at that; did she think he wouldn't remember or didn't know how he probably looked to her? Or felt...and he definitely felt much better now that it had been a few hours since he had healed, had any blood or alcohol, and that he had also slept some. He still felt a bit off, but told her, "Vampires heal quickly, hence no blatantly noticeable hangover." "That'd be nice." "But would you want the rest of the deal?" he asked as a bit of a reminder. "Immortality is a double-edged sword, and very tempting." He paused, his gaze drifting away from her as he prepared to reveal more of his thoughts. "If I did become mortal...there are some things I'd miss. But losing them is worth it." "Tempting.... Is the temptation of immortality what led you to being brought over?" His eyes drifted further away as his mind flashed on a beautiful seductress in that pub that evening he had been lured. And then LaCroix. "I'd...rather not talk about that. But...yes, it did involve temptations. Many temptations." Nick had looked back to Natalie, and stood. "1193," he then told her. "What?" "You had asked when I was born. 1193." He saw her relax a little and smile at him again. "Can I ask where?" "Where I was born?" "Yeah." He debated for a split-second; before he had been overcome by a blood-wine haze he vaguely remembered deciding that if she'd take him back he'd tell her as much as he could. "In an area that is now mostly within Belgium," he told her, doubting she'd have ever heard of the duchy that had once been there. "What was it then?" Her curiosity continued to amaze him, and he looked away, thinking. He had an idea, although it wasn't quite an answer. "Nick? Come on, where?" "If you're really curious..." he started, pausing, hoping she'd be more amused than frustrated, then finished, "find an old map. It's on there. The name's survived, although just barely." "You're really going to make me look this up, aren't you?" He just smiled, now a bit wider, when she seemed more exasperated than mad or upset. The idea of a treasure hunt for her answer didn't seem to bother her much. "You're in a better mood than I've ever seen you in, you know that?" Nick's smile vanished as he was reminded of their relationship so far--his purposely keeping his distance so he wouldn't feel comfortable around her like he did now. "I didn't want this to happen. I'm sorry. I'm sure I've imposed on you far more than you expected I ever would." "It's fine, really." He didn't understand how he could just brush this off; he wouldn't if their roles were reversed. Wanting a change of subject, he asked a bit randomly, "Do you work tonight?" "Yeah, I go in for nine tonight," she told him with a nod. "I'll bring my...schedule from the last month," he told her a bit tentatively. "If you want me to, that is? You won't like the last few days, though." "If you want me to see it, bring it. But you don't have to." "I'll bring it," he quickly replied. If she was giving him an option, then he'd do it or try. He had to. "I'd offer a blood test, but...I'm not sure that would be of any use, considering...." He trailed off, waiting for a response, but didn't get one. They both knew a blood test at the moment would be fairly useless. "Okay, since you asked me if I was working...do you even have a job?" His smile flitted partly back. "It's just, you seem to have a fairly flexible schedule..." "No, I don't have a job. After what happened, I'm not sure if I should." "Because someone might recognise you?" she seemed to tentatively ask. He nodded; truth be told he had nearly put in his papers for employment before the...accident of sorts. And then he also hadn't because of working with Natalie...that had put a rather large kink in his plans. "How long had you been here at the time? When you got, ah--" "Blown to bits? Not long." "So, well, did anyone know your name or anything else about you?" He shook his head. "No, not really." "Then why are you worried? They never identified you, and if by chance someone thinks they've seen you before, I'm sure you can handle that." His gaze drifted away again. She had just blown away his excuse not to settle more fully here, at least regarding what he had told her. "Perhaps," he cautiously confirmed, having an idea where she was going with this. "I'm just saying you might consider getting a job. If you haven't already thought about it, that is." "I have. I'm just not sure if I should keep to my original plan," he admitted fully truthfully this time. "Nick, you've been here for five months and you haven't done a thing?" Nearly smiling, he glanced back. She had no idea about either how many times he had unpacked and packed, how many times he had redone his paperwork to work with updated dates, or of his hobbies. Or how much time he had spent following her, watching her.... He had to admit the past few months without a job had been nice; he could just lie outside and stare at the night sky if he wanted. More often it ended up being the ceiling and an open skylight, which was almost as nice. "I know. You probably don't need a job. But doesn't it get, well, boring not having much to do?" "Sometimes," he admitted his attention fully on her again. He had a feeling she wouldn't drop the subject without a better answer, and told her, "I'll think about it, okay?" He got a smile, and he had to say he liked her smiles rather than her scowls. "If you haven't already picked a job, you might consider something a vampire wouldn't be expected to take." "I think you would, perhaps, approve of the one I have in mind," he slowly told her, remembering her comment about some of the things that wouldn't exist without the forces of good. He wasn't sure what she'd do when she found out they were working together, though.... "Good." "Anything else?" Nick asked while he felt okay with answering her questions, especially since they were mostly things that should have been asked long ago. "What if it's not a question, exactly?" Nick's eyes narrowed a little, but he was curious what she'd have that wasn't a question. "What is it?" "Hmmm, well, since we're doing so good this evening, you can try that drink I wanted you to try. It'll be a good new beginning, of a sort." He had forgotten all about that shake of hers, and he sat back down on her couch with a resigned groan. He supposed he'd have to try it. "Come on, Nick, it's not going to kill you," she said, then paused. "Well, I'm taking your reaction as a 'yes' considering you're still here and haven't bounded for the door." He just sat there and waited as Natalie eventually left and disappeared into her kitchen. He vaguely listened--it sounded like she was making milk chocolate or something as she pulled more than one thing out of a cupboard, something out of the refrigerator, a drawer, and he heard the sound of metal against ceramic. Moments later Natalie was coming back to him, a mug in her hand, which she held out to him. He took it, his eyes drifting to the contents. This wasn't what she had described, the liquid a pale but bright green-ish white, and he told her such, "It's green. I thought you said you had made it red?" "I did. Unfortunately, that was an extra step, so you'll have to settle with green today. It could be greener, you know? Besides, if you ever do become mortal, you'll have to get used to seeing green on your plate." Nick's eyes didn't stray from the thin, milky mixture. It did look a lot like milk or chocolate milk...except for the colour. He wished she could have made it red. Might be easier. "Should I ask what is in it?" "Probably not." At that he tore his gaze from the liquid, a bit worried. She had to know that as a vampire he wouldn't cringe at much, unless she was trying to hide just how much actual, normal mortal food was mixed in. He was now feeling even queasier than when the green liquid had first come into his sight. "I even tried it myself, and it tasted fine. Come on, try it. Please, Nick." He tried to hand it back to her, but she wouldn't take it. "Nick...." "It works. I've lost my appetite," he told her, continuing to hold it out. "Then maybe it'll do an even better job if you actually try it. It should be better than some things, at least." Nick pulled the mug back. As sunset still hadn't arrived, he had little choice. It was try it or possibly get into another argument. At least now he had time to think, prepare...at least somewhat. Maybe his body would tolerate it a bit better given what he had ingested over the previous day? Reluctantly, carefully, he took a tiny sip. Immediately he wanted to spit it back in the mug, but he forced himself to swallow the wretched concoction. Then, he held the mug back out again, but she didn't take it. "So...?" "It tastes worse than most mortal food," he admitted. "Sorry, I kind of hoped it would be better than most. But, other than that how is it? Anything in particular that could be improved, anything that's a good aspect of it...?" He had to think a second, then told her, "It's either too thin or too thick. It's not making me overly nauseated, though." "That's good." "For now." Nick moved the mug a couple inches closer to her, willing her silently to take it. Even now he was starting to feel worse. "Please, take it. I'm not going to drink any more of it." "Nick...." "Would you rather have me head to your kitchen and spit it out?" "Well, no, not really...." "Then take it," he again told her. "A single sip might not have much effect, but I don't think I can handle much more. Not right now." Still, she wasn't taking it, and he fumbled for some way to be rid of the mug, telling her, "Sorry. Maybe...bring back a glass of water? I'll drink that." "It's okay, Nick." And she finally took the mug and the faintly smelling milky mixture out of his sight. He vaguely hoped she'd forget the water, but he could feel his body trying to slowly expel the swallow of shake he had drunk. Maybe the water would at least keep that down until he could leave. He'd need a little blood once he returned home, perhaps more if he lost more than just the bit of liquid he had managed. Just that thought made him hungry, and the room wasn't helping. He'd noticed it before, but before he had been there with a purpose and not just waiting. He felt oppressed by the brick red paint. "Ah, sorry about the colour." He looked to her, and saw her nod to the walls. "It's a bit...annoying," he admitted. "It increases your hunger?" "Something like that," he muttered as his requested glass of water was held out. "I'm a little surprised you can drink water." "Why?" Nick asked, taking the glass while trying not to cringe at the contents. At least it looked clear, pure. "Well...okay, maybe it's not too odd, but--" "I don't need water, and although my body would much rather be drinking something else, it has its uses," he told her, although stopped short of explaining he hoped the fairly benign water would dilute and wash down her shake. The water, itself, wouldn't make him too sick...as long as he didn't drink too much and as long as he had blood soon after. "Don't rely on myth." "You're close enough to myth from what I've seen, and it's not like you've said much about it. Besides, you said that you couldn't drink any mortal food or drink. And, apparently, that isn't entirely true." Not wanting to explain his inconsistency--it had, after all, been more to drown out his feelings and he had to force the alcohol--Nick took a rather large swallow of the water. As it had very little taste to it, he was able to fairly easily down the mouthful. Once he did so, though, he could tell his body wasn't too thrilled being given yet more non-blood liquids. "I'll explain more. I promise. And I will try harder." He fiddled with the glass, now wanting rid of it as well. "Are you done with the water?" Nick had just about managed to shunt the glass off to a nearby table, but he stopped. He didn't want to disappoint her, and so he told her, "No. No, I'll finish it," and he took another sip. This one was much harder to swallow; there wasn't too, too much left, but he wasn't sure he could manage the rest unless it was mixed with blood like the wine had been. "You don't have to." "And you don't have to help me. You didn't have to let me in this morning," he told her somewhere between a snap and a whine. He both wanted to be mad at her being so nice...and take that offer, and he finally told her, "But I would like you to help me. I really do mean it." "Will you be leaving now? The sun's about down." Nick didn't need to look at the time to know she was right. He could feel it. Forcing the rest of the water down in one, large, difficult swallow, Nick nodded both in response to her question and to give him something to do. "I should go. I might not have a job, but I do keep busy most nights." "Hobbies?" she asked him curiously. "Something like that," he said again. Tonight he would probably be unpacking. Again. This time it would be for good. "A vampire's hobbies.... Hmm, that might be interesting." "Not really," he said rather honestly. His hobbies probably weren't that much different than a mortal's...he just had more of them. Nick almost smiled. "You aren't going to say any more about that, are you? Even if I ask." He looked away at her perceptiveness. That made him wonder why she was a medical examiner and not a doctor in some prestigious hospital...or a detective for that matter. She didn't need to read the reactions of the people she worked with...they were dead and talked in other ways. "I thought so." He hated hearing her frustration creep back in. "I'm sorry. Give me time. I will work with you, but I would really prefer if we avoided the more personal topics. Please." "Does that go for my research information too? The map, to get the answer to my question? To find out where you were born?" Nick shook his head. "No. No, that's fine. Just other...closer topics. Where I'm from is a fact. My personal life is something else. I'm not going to ask about your life, Doctor. Our relationship is strictly professional, and I plan for it to remain so," he told her, and he did plan to still do what he could to keep them apart. Nick put the glass on the nearby table and stood. He had imposed on her more than enough today by coming to her home and sleeping there during the day; he couldn't do this again. He walked past Natalie, even as she followed him rather stiffly. She was upset by his statement, but he could now leave and he did just that. Nick paused in the hall and closed his eyes. He was starting to feel quite ill. And hungry. He went up to the roof and flew home, hoping that if he got sick he'd make it there first. Elusive Gains - Nick - (08/26) Once home, Nick did, indeed, get ill. He lost the water and her shake...as well as the few swallows of blood he had drank after arriving at his loft. That had been the last straw for his stomach. Then, after that, he had a few more swallows of cow's blood, which made him feel better. He only had a few mouthfuls, though. He still felt off from his binge the night before. Next he had cleaned up the glass from the bottle he had smashed soon after coming home from Natalie's two days before, and then finally he again pulled out his filled out papers for a 'transfer' to the Toronto Police Department. The date was a good month and a half before--from the most recent time he considered putting it in--and he should probably do up another copy if he was going to finally settle into this life. He just hoped it would last. He hadn't put it in because he feared Natalie would stop helping him. And if that happened, then what? Remembering Natalie saying when she started her shift that night, Nick left the loft shortly after nine and headed to the morgue with his food diary for the past month. Reaching the doors he decided to not be as silent in his entry tonight, and he pushed the door open more casually and let his shoes come down on the hard floor a bit less cautiously. Natalie had turned and looked at him a bit oddly, her lips parted a bit in seeming surprise or confusion. "Is something wrong?" "Ah, no. No, I'm just a bit surprised. I've never heard you come in before. I mean, I've heard the door a couple of times, but I've never actually heard you walk in." "I know," he said with a momentary smile. "I thought you might prefer it. You haven't said anything, but I know it bothers mortals." When she didn't reply, he pulled several sheets of paper out of his jacket pocket and handed them out to her. He wasn't sure what she'd think, but at least it showed he had tracked every day. Once she pulled them from his hand, he asked, "So, have you figured out where I'm from yet?" "Nick, it's only been a few hours. I haven't had time...I don't even know where to look, really." "Find an encyclopaedia. It likely won't be mentioned in the history, but look around the Capital...and take a glance at the country facts. That should--" He stiffened and cut off. Someone was rather noisily approaching, and a second later a bumbling man in a suit pushed through the doors. "Did you find anything new on the Matheson case? Is it a suicide?" "Suicide," Natalie said. Nick hoped to remain relatively unnoticed, and he vaguely watched as Natalie went to her desk, deftly switching his food diary for a folder, which she brought back to who he assumed to be a detective. "Nothing to suggest homicide." The man glanced to Nick as he took the folder, then nodded and asked Natalie, "So, who's your friend?" Nick tensed. He wasn't going to be able to get out of this one, he didn't think. "Well.... Ah, this is...ah...." "Nick," he answered, stopping Natalie's fumbling. "Nick Knight," he rolled off and held out his hand to the detective. The man politely took his hand, although it was clear the other wanted to let go immediately and the handshake didn't last very long. "Detective Don Schanke. So...you a friend of Natalie's?" Nick moved back and away as far as he could without possibly offending the other. This Detective Schanke smelled strongly of garlic, onions, and cigarette smoke. "Ah...er, Nick's...." "A patient," Nick again answered for her. He wasn't quite ready to tell Natalie about his planned job, and he was thankful she was letting him choose what to say. They had never had anyone interrupt them, and as such they had never decided what to say if someone asked. "Really? I didn't know pathologists had patients. Live ones, that is. Granted, you do look a bit pale," he said pointedly at Nick, "but you're probably not used to morgues--" "Nick's a special case. And I'm not charging him for visits, anyway." "And I'm not letting you do this for free," Nick said without much thought, although realised quickly her comment was probably just for the detective. "Nick--" "I'll come back in a few days for what you wanted, Doctor," he said and slipped out of the room. Then, there he hid in the hall, listening as the detective grilled Natalie about him, asking all sorts of questions about why she had a patient to start with, why so late at night, where he worked, how long they had known each other, etc. The detective seemed rather suspicious of him, and even in the few short moments had pegged him as 'odd'. He winced a bit when the other mentioned his grip--he hadn't realised, maybe that was why the other pulled back so quickly.... He learned a few interesting details from listening in, though. For one, the offensive detective apparently worked days. That was good, very good; he didn't particularly want to work with him. For another there was Natalie's comment about having 'plenty of live patients before coming there'. So she had worked with regular cases at some point before. She made another comment, though: That he was 'harmless'. It bothered him. He was far from harmless...he was surprised he hadn't seen any bruises on Natalie's neck after what he had done a few days ago. Lost in his thoughts, Nick barely had enough time to dart out of sight before Detective Schanke came out. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. A few nights later, Nick still hadn't started the process toward working. He was going to do that as soon as he left the morgue after a visit with Natalie. Easily sneaking into her office he walked up to her desk, where she was hunched over some paperwork. "So, did you find it?" he asked, and she started so badly a long line of ink and ever so slight tears in the paper along the line that crossed her form, and she nearly swore. "Nick, I thought you were going to stop appearing out of thin air?" He winced, apologised with a quick, "Sorry," but in truth he found it somewhat amusing given she usually didn't react much at all when he popped up suddenly. He watched as she went to get her stethoscope rather than supplies to take his blood. "Don't you want a blood sample?" "No, not tonight. But I want to get your pulse and temperature again." "I thought you were done with that?" he asked nervously. He had become used to the blood samples, and had assumed they told her more than the other. "Nope. I want to make sure your system is back to normal after your little detour." Nick looked away. So it was that; her stethoscope probably told her quicker. "Ah, come on, it's not that bad. Look at it this way--you don't get poked with a needle tonight." "It doesn't hurt." "But you don't like it. Now, unbutton your shirt." No, he wasn't the fondest of having his blood drawn, but he wasn't overly fond of this, either. Nick, however, complied, undoing the top buttons of his shirt so that she could easily access his heart. "So, did you?" he asked again. "Since you wanted to know so much?" "The map?" Nick nodded. "Yeah. All I could find was a current map. That encyclopaedia tip was useful." He stiffened a little as she pressed the cool metal up against his skin. The second time they had done this she had again looked at him a bit oddly, and he knew this would take a while--she was listening for more than his faint heart sounds but when it actually beat...which had taken a good dozen minutes between them. When she looked up at him, he noticed she seemed to be holding back. "But?" "You were right about the history section, didn't have much of anything useful. In fact, it skipped right over that time period." "And?" "Well, like I said, the hints were helpful. It's Brabant, correct?" He smiled; she had found it, all right. "Very interesting...anything I might find on you in the library if I look 'Brabant' up? There wasn't a separate article on it, I noticed." "Probably not," he quickly told her. "Or if there is, it wouldn't be much." "What might I find?" He tensed at her repeated question. He didn't particularly want her to look him up. "I know. Too personal, isn't it?" Closing his eyes, he turned his head away in thought. He had promised he'd try harder, and he replied, "A bit. But if you looked, you'd probably find nothing more than a birth date and place. I didn't have a very long nor particularly noteworthy mortal life. Anything else likely no longer exists or is only available to researchers. If you look and you want to find more about me, you'll be wasting your time if you hope to find anything interesting or enlightening. You've probably guessed more about me than you'd find." "One question, though. This hit me when Schanke was here a few nights ago, and I'm even more curious now...." "What?" "Is Nick--or I guess it would be some variant of Nicholas--your real name? The one you were born with?" He hesitated ever so slightly before telling her, "It was." "And...I suspect Knight is just a random name, isn't it? No relation?" Nick started to smile a bit again. "It's not a random choice." "But it's not your real name, is it?" "No." "So...what's the rest of it?" Nick tensed. He hadn't even planned on telling her the name he was going to use here in this life quite yet, and that had just been a few days before. But he could see her frustration at his lack of reply, even feel it as she pulled the stethoscope away and wrote on a piece of paper, then headed to get a thermometer. "Open up, Nick." He did so, somewhat thankful for the excuse not to talk for the next little while. She didn't talk to, lecture, or scold him for not answering, either. He waited until she again scribbled on the paper, pulled out the thermometer, noting that as well. "How have you been feeling the last few days?" "Fine," he somewhat nervously answered. "Qualify 'fine'. Are you having more trouble keeping to the steady, rationed amount of blood we were working with?" Nick didn't answer, not wanting to disappoint her. "Nick, out with it." "You're right, I haven't been able to stick with it," he admitted rather shortly. "And it shows. Your temperature and pulse are lower. How much human blood have you been drinking?" Her tone was accusing, and he pleaded, "Natalie...." "How much?" she almost snapped. Nick looked away again, but answered, "Some. Not much. Less than half. I tried, I really did. Next week will be better." "And you-- Wait a minute, you used my name." "You said I should," he said nervously, wondering if maybe he had made a mistake. When she smiled, he relaxed. "So, I ask again, what's your name? Your full name, Nick." Her question was a bit playful, and so he returned, "Nicholas B. Knight." She clearly didn't believe him; she knew it wasn't. "Come on, Nick. Mortal name." Nick glanced to the door, not wanting to answer...but what did it really matter? "You let me figure out where you're from. You knew I'd ask this, I'm sure." He knew she was right. He also knew that if she really looked for him, she'd almost undoubtedly find him and his name. "And your name is...?" "Nicolas de Brabant," he told her, his voice changing slightly, he knew. It always did when he said it. Before she could prod him with more questions, he darted out the door. He just barely heard her plea that he stay, calling his name... Nick went home, not feeling like talking his way into a job. Not right now. He felt like he had said more than enough for the night, and didn't feel like being grilled. Elusive Gains - Nick - (09/26) "So, you're from Chicago?" Nick just nodded in reply. They had already gone over his past; he had 'convinced' the other that he was just waiting for an assignment, that he was all approved and had met all the requirements, but he still hadn't quite gotten a go of sorts. He wasn't sure whether Captain Stonetree liked him or was suspicious of him, nor did he want to risk another round of forced convincing. The man wasn't a resistor, but he did seem to consider things slowly. "You know, I haven't heard a thing on you. You say you're not a rookie--" "I'm not." "And yet you want nights? There's a spot on days--" "I want nights." Seeing the other looking at him a bit suspiciously, Nick told him, "I have to work nights because of a...skin condition. It doesn't affect my eligibility for--" "And you wanna work alone...." Nick had cut off, but nodded at the new question, which seemed to be more of an uncertain comment. This time he pressed, enforcing the thought in the other, "*I work alone.*" He wanted as much freedom as possible; he didn't want tied to another that might either hate him or notice things about him. Forget that he was still a little uncertain if he was even staying.... Nick kept his gaze steady on the other, but he still wasn't getting anywhere. He wanted an answer; specifically, he wanted a positive answer. "When can I start?" he asked, hoping his assumption would prove right, but the other just sat and stared at him for what felt like minutes. "Come back tomorrow night and we'll see. Eight o'clock." Nick was disappointed that he wasn't getting an instant answer, but he had a feeling the other would say yes. Nick stood and said, "Thank you, Captain Stonetree," nodded, and then left the office slowly. A couple of the detectives looked at him on his way out. They were wondering who he was and what he was doing there at midnight in their captain's office by their whispers. They wondered anything from new detective to a new crown prosecutor, to even wondering if he was a fed. They were right on the first count, he hoped. He had spent so little time around mortals lately--or more than one mortal in particular--that he somewhat dreaded working among them. At least the first few days or weeks would be hard, he knew. The whispers, rushing heartbeats, and bright, hot blood...all would be calling for his attention. Natalie wouldn't be happy with his food logs, either, he suspected. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. When Nick had gone back in the following night, he had essentially been approved. It ended up being nearly three weeks before he actually got to start, though. He could have started immediately...if he worked at a different precinct at first. He had been fine waiting, and then his first night had been spent at his new, empty, and almost too shiny desk...filling out more paperwork. On his second night, before he even made it to his desk he got called in by Stonetree. "The next couple nights you're gonna work with--" "I work alone," he again told the other. "--another detective, show you around a little, make sure you're gettin' settled in." "I can get settled in on my own," he protested. "Maybe in Chicago, but not here. You let someone show you around a couple, few days...or there's an opening at the 23rd you might like, robbery, nice rookie partner...." Nick closed his eyes. He didn't want a partner, especially not a rookie who probably thought he knew more about the city than 'some American'. "Fine. Where--" "I told him to wait out at your car when he came in. He'll be there in half an hour. Who knows, maybe you'll change your mind about the partner thing." Nick didn't think he would. He left the office as Stonetree turned and sat down; the other clearly had other work to do. Going back to his desk he sat there and fiddled for a few minutes, working on memorising his work phone number and badge number. It didn't work well, his focus scattered. His desk was still too clean. His in and out boxes were empty, and unlike most of the other desks his didn't have a mug or even a styrofoam coffee cup--or several--somewhere. His eyes darted to the name plate on his desk. Since there had been a few weeks before he started, he had multiple things with his name on it, from the name plate to his badge to business cards. But the name plate...if or when Natalie came in, she'd see it and know. He was sure she'd guess it was him. He still hadn't told her, or even decided how. Would she be upset if he didn't tell her before they met at a crime scene? Or would she be upset if he even told her tonight? Even now it was after the fact...even if she had encouraged him to get a job. The time ticked ever closer to a half-hour in on his shift, and he half expected some detective to come up to him in here, but they didn't. He absolutely dreaded the rest of the night, but he got up, slipped on his trenchcoat, and headed outside. He rounded the corner of the building and could see someone leaning up against the side of his caddy...no. Of all the people.... "You looking for Dr. Lambert or something?" Schanke asked, clearly suspicious. Nick almost smiled at that; apparently Schanke hadn't been told who he was stuck showing around, either. "No." Then, having a bit of fun, he asked, "You waiting for someone?" "Yeah, some new guy, new detective." Schanke patted the door of the Caddy. "This thing here is his car; and get this, he's gonna use it on the job. Can you see this thing in a chase? Or trying to follow someone without being seen?" "I don't think it'll be a problem," Nick told him, starting around toward the driver's side. "It's mine." "Yours?" "Mine," Nick again said. It was almost worth it to see the other's shock. "So you're the new--" "New homicide detective. Yes." Nick pulled open his door and got in, at which he had to lean over to unlock the others' door. "So you really just moved here, then?" Schanke said, getting in, eyeing the clean inside. "Yeah." Schanke nodded at the added radio. "What's your call unit number?" "81-Kilo." "Know who you're getting as a partner?" "Don't have one." "I know you don't now, but--" "I won't get one. I work solo." "And Stonetree let you? Heck, the department let you? I don't know anyone that doesn't have a partner. I mean permanently. It is permanent?" Nick just nodded and pulled out of his parking spot. "Who got you the job?" "No one." "Your doctor-friend--" Nick shot him a glare as the Caddy reached the street. "All right, all right. Guess not." "Where to?" "Make a right out of the lot." "Where to, not which way," Nick corrected. "Well, I'm supposed to make sure you know where things are--you know where the coroner's building is, obviously, so...you been to the shooting range?" Nick just smiled at that. He had, actually, but he went along with it. Anywhere had to be better than there, together, in his car. And with what he was he could out-shoot most mortals without trying...assuming they weren't just really good, really practiced, and he doubted this man was. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Nick managed to get rid of his ride-along part way through his shift, particularly when Schanke realised he knew the city better than he did. Then he had about tossed the other's lunch out the window after it had been shoved in his face. He had driven back to the precinct at that. The following night Nick found Schanke waiting, sitting at his desk when he came in. The other hadn't yet seen him, and it had been oh so tempting to turn around and leave. But he hadn't. He wanted this job, and if he had to put up with the other for a couple of hours for a few nights, so be it. And after that first day Nick had gone home and nearly gone on another binge...with human blood. As it was he had ended up switching temporarily; without it there was no way he could have made it this long. The other rambled. A lot. And had been yawning. He suspected the other would be more annoying if he wasn't so tired. Schanke had also tried offering him food another two times; the second time not long before now, mid-shift. He had politely stopped to allow the other to get something to eat, only for the other to buy extra without asking. He had walked off, leaving the other stranded for a good fifteen minutes. Unfortunately he hadn't locked the Caddy, so upon returning that smelled faintly repulsively. Then, finally, something--81-Kilo was being called out, although that set off other emotions and worries. Mainly that he'd finally have to tell Natalie, but then there would be the victim or victims. Nick had reached for the radio, but too late. He shot a glare at Schanke after he had responded, although he didn't say anything. Another couple of nights and he'd be rid of the other. He had to just keep telling himself that. A couple more nights and he'd be alone. "I sure hope you don't toss your dinner or something." "Don't worry, I won't," Nick replied, fairly sure it was the truth. He had never done it before, even if the body had been his fault. He was more concerned about the amount and freshness of any blood. "Yeah, right. You should've seen yourself in a mirror that day in autopsy. And there wasn't even a body on the table. Take Spadina. It's faster." Nick just ignored the other, including the directions. It wasn't faster in practice. He had spent not only more than enough time in Toronto in the past...but some nights since he had been here again he had just driven around, thinking. Ignoring a couple more comments on his chosen route to the crime scene, Nick was absolutely thrilled once he arrived...and got out and started toward those gathered without Schanke. The other followed, of course, but as Nick got to the body he seized up. The victim, a man, had been shot multiple times, and he lay in a rather large pool of blood. Fresh blood. He didn't hear another word the other said to him; eventually Schanke left, and all he heard was city static and talking from a couple of officers behind him. Then, suddenly, he heard a voice he both feared and wished to hear all at once: Natalie. That snapped him out of his stupor, and he leaned down closer to the blood, hoping it looked like he was doing something other than eavesdropping. It was Schanke Natalie was talking to, and he complained rather loudly about 'baby-sitting' 'that friend' of hers, which continued in a rather rambling fashion as Natalie asked questions. She seemed incredulous and unbelieving. Nick wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Natalie had possibly just learnt more about him in the past minute or two from Schanke than she had pried out over the course of weeks. And then Natalie defended him. Hearing Schanke decide he'd had enough and was going home--which was perfectly fine with him--Nick turned his attention determinedly back to the body. He listened as Natalie's footsteps slowly, cautiously approached, and he tensed a bit and started to straighten once she was mere feet away. "Nick?" He could hear her concern, and he turned and smiled with almost a touch of worry. "Didn't expect to see me here, did you?" "No, I didn't. Just...please don't tell me it's some kind of joke." Nick tensed hearing some of her anger and frustration peek through her words. "I mean...are you really planning to keep this job?" "I'm really a homicide detective and I'm really hoping to keep it," he told her softly. He didn't want to argue; that would just make this worse, harder. "Hoping?" "Yeah." Nick turned to nod at the victim and try to focus on work, his case, but he ended up being drawn to the blood again and just turned and stared. Why couldn't his first victim have been hung or strangled or something? Or shot just the once, not multiple times... "You're having trouble with it." "Tonight, yes. I suppose you could say it's my first crime scene in a while," he admitted, although he knew it was more than just the blood. He had been aggravated by Schanke, and nervous worrying how Natalie would react. "When was your last?" He turned to look at him, but didn't answer. He wasn't ready to tell her details she could use to look up his past lives. "You aren't just trying this on a whim, are you?" Nick stiffened, but her question seemed more curious than accusing, so he asked, "What do you mean?" "You're taking on the role of an experienced detective from what Schanke told me. You have had enough training for this, right?" He relaxed, his thoughts and attention drifting as he answered, "Yeah. It's been a few years, but yeah, I have." "Nick?" He snapped his attention back to her. "You know...Schanke doesn't seem to like you much. He hasn't since he first met you." "No, he doesn't. And I think the feeling is mutual." "Why don't you like him?" "Too much garlic, for one thing." He nearly smiled, but just the thought made him feel a little ill. "He...kept offering me souvlaki, and food in general." "He mentioned that. And your car. He thinks it'll break down on you." "It won't." Nick nearly glanced at the body again, but didn't dare, instead just trying to change the subject, "And...can we take care of this? Please?" His words came out more as a whine than a plead, and getting a nod he again turned to the body, trying his best not to look at the blood. It wasn't working, and Natalie noticed. Tonight was going to be a long night. Elusive Gains - Nick - (10/26) After nearly a month, Nick had become far more used to his job. He had had three cases, and he had closed all of them. Crime scenes were the worst, but at least it was only momentary. The morgue was just as bad when he had gone over for something work-related, especially if he and Natalie talked about more than just his case. The precinct was almost as bad as the rest with all the mortals scurrying around him, and so he spent as much time out driving in the Caddy during his shift as he could. A couple of times he had even driven by the morgue, parked, only to leave again without going in. However much he liked the idea of just dropping in for no reason, he couldn't. Natalie had reacted similarly to Schanke after seeing his car on the way out of that first crime scene. She hadn't seen it before; he had always flown to the morgue for their meetings. While she hadn't said anything, he could see she was wondering how he got there usually. But after grilling him about if everything worked, why in the world he, a vampire, had a convertible, and asking how often he had to fill the tank up she had warmed up to it greatly. And it had made him feel much better and much more relaxed almost up until the end of that shift. Going home that morning Nick had once again had human blood, although he didn't enjoy it very much. This was now the third time he had slipped back to human blood since coming to Toronto. He hadn't told Natalie, either outright or even noting it stealthily on his food intake sheets. As far as she knew, he'd been drinking cow's blood. And a bit more of it every week. While true that he had been managing a higher percentage of the cow's blood, whenever he slipped he overdid it, then needed more cow's blood just to prevent a full-on binge. Nick had tried for three failed weeks to desperately switch back to just cow's blood, and it hadn't worked at all. He knew he had to just get rid of all of the human blood he had and switch, even if it did provoke a binge on the cow's blood. Once it was done, it'd be done, and then he could control it better. He now felt awful, especially tonight. He felt worse than those first few days working among mortals. Cow's blood just wasn't cutting it after his nearly half a year of solitude, although he knew he'd feel fine by now if he had just managed not to succumb in the first place--if he had just stuck with the cow's blood. He had punctured the bags of human blood and rinsed the contents down the drain, wanting the temptation gone. He hadn't had any of it, but it had gotten on his hands and the scent had been amplified by the running water agitating it as it swirled away. And now he was sitting in the morgue on his day off, trying not to think about the blood he had thrown out, the cow's blood back at his loft, the human blood in the refrigerator here, or Natalie's precious but so very fresh and warm blood. Or how very disappointed Natalie had looked when she had taken his latest weekly food diary from him and glanced it over. He knew it was bad and would look bad to her. He had been so desperate to make it look better that he had rearranged some things...and hadn't fed at all for two days. That wasn't helping how he felt right now, either, or his obsession with any sort of blood. "So, how are you doing with the job?" Nick looked at her, but wasn't sure what to say. She had asked the previous weeks, as well. And if he wasn't doing 'fine', which she had to know he wasn't, it felt like a disappointment. He'd be fine in another couple of weeks. She had questioned his ability to do this job pretty much the moment she found out, and her worry hadn't seemed to fade any. "Nick, I know you're not doing very good at the crime scenes. And in here, for that matter. You've been on edge whenever you've come in here, more than usual." He just stared; yep, she had a good idea how he was or was not doing. The last he knew was referring to their meetings. To her he looked like he wasn't cooperating again, he was sure. He was having trouble concentrating more than anything, and he passed off her concern. "It's nothing." "Nick, when your blood intake goes up by twenty percent in a single week, it's not nothing." Holding back a wince he didn't reply. Again, there was nothing for him to say that wouldn't either disappoint her or shunt them into an argument. With how he felt right now, he didn't think he could handle even a verbal argument. Even being snapped at like now was enticing what he was to react. "Nick, something's up. Something has changed." "Yes, something's changed, and I can't do anything about it," he finally confirmed. By speaking something seemed to break, and he elaborated, his words frantic and frustrated, "I'm around mortals constantly. Do you have any idea what it's like to be surrounded by dozens of heartbeats and have to ignore it? To be stuck with them and have excruciatingly bright lights shining down on you while trying to be productive? To be able to do absolutely nothing about it?" "No, I don't, but you can't go to the blood every time things get difficult, no matter the reason. You'll get accustomed to having more, and then you'll want more and it'll be harder to cut back." "You don't understand. You can't." "Nick, lis--" He turned. He needed to leave, return to the loft and drink something. "No you don't, Nick. You're not walking off this time. Please. Just try, Nick. Try to explain it to me. Please try." He spun back and half hissed and half yelled, "I can't! It's not something that I can explain to you." Nick started toward the door again, but this time his path was blocked. Natalie now stood between him and the only exit. She was making him feel trapped, and a cornered vampire was even less safe than a hungry one. He tried to calm and focus on her. He just needed to leave. "Then tell me something. You've had nearly a month, Nick. I can understand the small increases those first couple of weeks. But Nick, this last week is going to make it harder." "It'll be fine. It'll go down next week. I promise." He then took a step forward, expecting she would move. She didn't. In fact, his promise seemed to have made her more angry even before she spoke. "Don't you dare." Nick looked away; he had changed, her strong but contained emotions only bringing out his beast more. He could lose control any moment. "Look at me, Nick," she snapped at him again. Not long later he felt a wave of warmth from her hot skin cross in front of his face, and he shoved her hand down and away. When his eyes met hers he felt an ever so slight increase in her heartrate, but her stance was the opposite of fear, her anger not budging one bit. "Your blood intake was already up, Nick. And now you're drinking more than twice as much blood than you were when we started! That's not progress. I can't help you unless you're going to try, Nick. You've slipped more than even when you showed up at my place, drunk. And when you slipped this time, you fell down a very deep mine shaft." "And I can get out of it," he harshly snarled. It didn't get her to back off in the slightest. "How? When? And then what will you do when you become mortal? Tell me that. If you can't learn to change things now, you're going to have a heck of a lot of trouble once you're mortal." "If, not when." "When, Nick. When. But not until you can make that change in your mindset, Nick. You have to think when, not if." Nick made another try for the door, this time stepping around her. Or he tried to. Once more she was there, blocking him. He'd push her out of the way, but wasn't sure it was a good idea. If she resisted he could hurt her, even kill her. "No. No, you're not leaving yet. I have more to say to you." "I'm leaving." "No, you're not. This is our scheduled time to work on this, Nick. My time. I'm not even on shift yet and you don't even work tonight." "So?" Nick asked, his eyes darkening. His fangs still hadn't descended, but they would soon if he didn't leave. He was thankful he didn't work tonight...he didn't think he could manage it. He tried again, this time pushing her as gently out of his way as possible with his shoulder and going for the door. "Nick, please, just--" He felt her grab his arm, and not gently. She was determined to keep him there but he couldn't stay. He wanted to, but he couldn't, and Nick turned back in a flash and backed her up into the nearest wall on instinct. He pinned her tightly in place, holding the wrist of the hand she had grabbed him with in a vice grip and jabbing the palm of his other hand into her opposite shoulder. It neither diminished nor dispelled her anger, and she fought against him, trying to push him back with her free hand. He pressed harder against her hand and shoulder, which stopped her struggling. "Nick, you--" "You know *nothing* about me or what I am!" he hissed in a low whisper. "Then help me understand, Nick. Please. I want to--" He leaned in, closer, forcing himself to look into her eyes rather than at her neck. "You *can't* understand. It is not possible. A mortal cannot understand without losing what makes.... I cannot make you understand, I can't.... I'm doing my best, Natalie. I'm doing my best. I'm trying. I really am trying." Nick's last words were so soft he wasn't sure she could hear him, even with how close they were. Coming somewhat to his senses, Nick loosened his hold on her. He needed to leave. Now. Next week he would be better, feel better and more in control. He could maybe try to explain to Natalie his fudging on his blood intake and why he reacted the way he had. Behind him he heard the door open and smelled the vaguely familiar scent of strongly flavoured foods and smoke. "Schanke, don't. Please don't." Nick backed away, completely letting go of Natalie, then he spun, skirted around Schanke and through the just-closed door. He heard Schanke start to curse, then Natalie call the other's name. No footsteps followed after him, nor did any yelling. He went to the roof and was airborne before the door shut. He didn't even bother to look to see if anyone was there and could see him. Right that moment he didn't care. He had needed away. And now, alone, his thoughts started to congeal into some sort of sense. He closed his eyes as he flew, then landed on the nearest rooftop. Next week.... Next week he might not have a job any longer. And the fingers of one of his hands and the wrist of the other seemed stiff; he had to have hurt her. Bruised her at least. Somewhere in the haze he had seen pain in Natalie's eyes. And now she was probably trying to smooth things over, making more excuses for his behaviour. She shouldn't have to do that. Maybe it'd be best if that detective did get him fired. He'd have to leave and she wouldn't have to or feel like she should cover for him any longer. Elusive Gains - Nick - (11/26) Once home, Nick had gone straight to the fridge...then stopped, hand on the door, willing himself not to open it. If he did, he'd down a whole bottle right then and there. He wouldn't even remember it as he reached for a second. He couldn't and wouldn't do that after just telling Natalie how much he was trying. He had to try harder. Even if there was no chance, even if he had possibly injured her and scared her past ever wanting to deal with him again--even through their jobs--he had to try until he knew there was, indeed, no chance. Nick let go and walked away, then ended up pacing as he fought between returning to the fridge, packing, and trying to sit down. Eventually he managed to pour himself a single but full glass of cow's blood, putting the remainder of the bottle away. The first sip calmed him exceedingly well, and he took it with him to the piano. He didn't stay there long, however; his thoughts were too scattered to play anything all the way through without something to focus on, follow, and any sheet-music was still off in some crate. An early-century, silent movie worked much better, and he managed to drain only half his glass by the time it had finished. But in the grand scheme of things it wasn't much of an accomplishment. After that Nick's solution for distraction had been to leave the loft to drive. Just...drive for hours, almost until sunrise. Arriving back he had again sat on his couch, finished the half a glass of room-temperature, stale cow's blood with distaste, and slowly dozed off. Then, suddenly, his buzzer was ringing. He hadn't heard it, literally, since it had been installed. It went off again, and Nick reluctantly stood and started toward the monitor connected to a camera. It was so seldom needed he had the screen off, and he flipped it on just as whoever it was hit the buzzer...again. As the tube flicked on Nick tensed. There, outside, was Natalie. He watched her hit the button angrily, several times in a row. It was quite clear she wasn't going anywhere, but what bothered him more was that she had come there at all. He pressed his own button for the intercom and asked, "How did you get my address?" "Let me in, Nick," he heard back. "Damn it, Nick. Let me in now or I'm going to have Schanke explain to Stonetree what he saw. Now, Nick!" He closed his eyes for a few seconds. He didn't particularly want her here, but at least he didn't have any bottles lying about, just the one empty glass, and he hit the intercom again, telling her, "Take the elevator up to the second level," and let her in. Nick then took in a deep breath, shut his eyes again and slowly released his breath as he listened for the elevator to descend, stop and pause as Natalie got in, rise, and then finally stop again. The moment it had stopped he jerked the freight door open. "Why have you come here?" "Why are you so angry, Nick? What happened earlier? Please, I want to know. I wanted to know earlier, but.... Please, Nick. Tell me what's going on." "I've already told you--since I've been working, I've been around far more mortals than I'm used to." "But why now? Why not a few weeks ago, like perhaps after that first case? You were uneasy then, yes, but nothing like you were last night. Nothing." Nick turned away, moving out of the way of the elevator. "Talk to me, Nick." Reluctantly he turned back around. He had told himself that he would tell her if she would still talk to him, decided that for certain while he had been out driving, but it was hard. He knew she'd be mad...madder than she already felt. "What haven't you told me? Perhaps about your blood intake?" Slowly he admitted to her, "I...lied to you." He turned away from her for a few seconds, then explained, "I lied about my blood intake, not how much I had been drinking, but what. I was drinking human blood that first week when I started at the precinct. I...had to. The next weeks, I started to switch back, drinking less human blood and more cow's blood, but I kept going back to the human blood. And then this last week I went back to cow's blood. Completely. That's why the amounts jumped up. That's why I'm on edge. That's...." "Nick?" He had paused, and whether or not she could understand he continued, telling her, "It was too much, too fast. I can't just instantly switch back, instantly cut it all back. If I did, I'd just slip, making matters even worse. So, I had to drink more of the cow's blood to compensate. Hence the increased amount of blood." "Why didn't you tell me? You need to write *everything* down. Correctly. Type and amount, Nick. I told you that." Nick just stared at her for a second; she was disappointed, which is what he had tried to prevent. "I knew it would...disappoint you. I didn't want you to think I didn't care," he admitted. "And you thought lying to me about it wouldn't? That that would somehow be better?" "I thought I could do it. I thought that, just maybe, you wouldn't notice, that--" He cut off, seeing it was a mistake. "Do I look like an idiot? I'm a doctor. I'm trained to notice things like this. And I didn't spend all of medical school in the morgue, you know. I have had live patients before. And I want a better explanation. Now, why did you lie? Why didn't you just tell me, Nick?" "I wouldn't have been able to explain it to you," he feebly answered. "The blood is...it's complicated." "I would have listened, even if I couldn't fully understand what you were telling me. You know that. And you've done a good job at explaining things so far today--something you should have done last night, or better yet back when this first started." Nick glanced away. He knew she was right; he should have, but.... "Nick, I want to help you. But I can't unless I can have some level of trust from you. You can't lie to me like this. What we're doing, it can't be one-sided." "And I can't allow it," he said impulsively at her seeming willingness to work with him. Again. "I can't allow myself to trust you. And you should not trust me like you have." "Is that why you did what you did? To make me afraid of you? Like at first how you tried pushing me away?" Nick tensed but held his ground as she moved closer. "It's not going to work, Nick. You've done all but permanently injure me, and I seriously doubt you'll go that far. You can't afford it. You might lose my help then, and you know that. And I know it too." Looking sharply back at her comments, he then moved away from her again, needing space. So he *had* hurt her. And she knew he'd never purposely do anything that might risk her not helping him. "Some of your co-workers are afraid of you, too. Is that what you want? Everyone to fear you? And then what will you do when you're mortal? No one's going to want to back you up and you'll get killed. Or, worse, they'll not trust you and not be where you think they are, and they'll be the one to die. And you don't have to be mortal for that to happen. Nick, unless you trust others and let them trust you, you will hurt someone. Is that what you want?" "You know I don't." "Do I? You know, I'm not so sure sometimes. Much more pressure and I'm sure you would have broken my wrist." "And?" he asked, his back still turned toward her, the knowledge that he had nearly seriously injured her enraging himself. When she didn't answer, he spun and glared at her, his eyes gold. His appearance seemed to have startled her into backing away, but only slightly. "And?" he repeated. If she was angry at him, he wanted her to yell at him. He wanted to know why she was here. "The bottom line is that I can't help you unless you trust me. And it has to be real trust, Nick, not whatever you think you've been giving me. I'm sorry, but I can't." For a moment, Nick just stared at her. Trusting him was dangerous, even deadly. He reached for her injured wrist to remind her of that, but for the first time she pulled away in what seemed like fear, backing away from him. Had he injured her that badly? But fear was good; maybe he could get her to understand, and he grabbed her, spinning her like he had in her apartment, but instead of pulling her head back he pulled her uninjured arm behind her back and hissed in her ear, "Those I trust die, Doctor. That's what happens to them. Either by my own hand or by another's. They die. Is that what you want?" Nick expected some protest, but the protest he got didn't seem aimed at him. She wasn't remotely struggling against his hold. In fact, after a moment he realised he was the only thing preventing her from collapsing to the floor. Something was wrong, very wrong, and he turned her in his hold. The hand he had twisted behind her back had the needle of a small syringe--no, it was more like a tranquillizer dart--jabbed into her hand. He looked into her eyes in shock, and then her eyes rolled back, her eyelids closing, and she passed out. "Natalie?" he helplessly said, lowering her so that she was sitting on the ground, and he was able to pull the needle out of her limp hand. "Natalie?" he repeated, his voice almost cracking this time as he shifted her, trying to get a look at her, hoping she would wake right back up. But she didn't, her head lolling back, which he quickly but gently pulled back up and held against his shoulder. He lightly almost kissed her forehead as he held her, frightened at what had just happened. Closing his eyes he listened to her slow and slowing pulse, but it at least felt fairly strong and steady. Her breathing, however, began to become quite shallow. He didn't think she was dying, poisoned. It had to just be a sedative. It had to be. He couldn't bear the thought that he had done this, caused her to finally not unquestionably trust him...and have her possibly die trying to convince her of doing just that. He didn't want her to die. Nick just sat there for several minutes, cradling her limp, unconscious body to his. Once her heartrate and breathing levelled out, he realised he couldn't just sit there until she woke, and he didn't want to just leave her there on the cold cement floor. There was the couch, but he didn't have an extra blanket handy like she had. That left his room, which was probably for the best. It was quieter and he knew a bit warmer. Carefully, keeping her propped up against him, Nick shifted, slipped her shoes off with one hand. Then he pulled off her winter coat. At first he tried to stop her jacket slipping off with it, but he gave up on that and let it come off as well and fall to the floor. Then, ever so slowly and gently Nick stood, lifting Natalie up as he did so. He carried her to the stairs, up them step-by-step trying not to jolt her too much, then over to his room where he laid her on one side of the bed above the comforter. She didn't move at all, and her arms lay oddly by her. Nick had to close his eyes again to listen to assure himself she still lived. While her heart had settled into a strong, steady pattern, he didn't like the sound of her breathing much at all, and he tenderly straightened her body, first her legs, then he sat on the edge of the bed to sit her up slightly in order to straighten her torso. During this, he also moved a pillow under her head and shoulders. Then he tentatively touched the collar of her shirt--it was buttoned up rather high and he undid a couple of buttons so it wouldn't be as confining. After moving Natalie's arms to rest at her waist, Nick stood and pulled the comforter up off the other side of the bed and covered her, wrapping her somewhat snugly. Nick moved to leave, but hesitated at the door, then returned to the bedside, again sitting. And there he stayed for the next nearly ten minutes, just watching her, listening until she no longer seemed forcibly unconscious. When it looked more like she slept, dreaming, than the blank near-death expression she had settled into when she passed out, he carefully stood again, affectionately touched her hair, brushing it back from her cheek for a moment, then he left her to rest peacefully. Walking slowly down the stairs, only now did Nick really start to think about what had happened. Reaching the main level he continued to where she had fallen and just stared in general at Natalie's things, but specifically at the small dart. He had vaguely noticed the bruised skin on her left wrist, the one he had held against the wall. Did she have a matching bruise on her shoulder? When she woke, would she run scared for the exit, or would she just sit and wait for him to react? If this had been in the past, he knew Natalie would have been in danger...from him. But the past was different. In the past he had trusted and then been betrayed after he had befriended his helper. This time he hadn't, and things seemed to actually be progressing worse. Nick didn't feel any malice toward Natalie for bringing the tranquiliser dart. He had certainly given her reason. But surely she had to know he would have almost certainly stopped her from using it, and if by chance she had managed to use it on him it very likely wouldn't have disabled him for long if at all. She knew it took more to take out a vampire than it would a mortal. If she was frightened of him enough to bring it, why had she even come? And why hadn't she stayed by the elevator? Instead she followed him, kept coming closer...even after he had moved away. Did she still trust him, or had he now destroyed any possibility of trust with his action that resulted in her now being unconscious? He wouldn't know until she woke. Even then he was wondering if he should leave Toronto...but he had just finally started to get settled in. He didn't want to leave, but.... Nick shook his head to himself, walked the last few steps forward, and picked up each of the items. Natalie's blazer, coat, and shoes he put over by the recliner. The dart he held in his hands, his eyes still glued to it, his brow furrowing in thought. Sitting, still fiddling with the empty dart, Nick fought off his tiredness. He would stay awake all day if he had to. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. He didn't have to stay up all day, and in fact barely an hour after Natalie had passed out from the sedation, Nick heard a change in her breathing and pulse that indicated she was awake. More so, he could hear fabric being rustled. He flew in a flash upstairs, to just next to the door to his room, where he pushed away any hint of his concern before moving to just within the doorway. Seeing her sitting up, he flipped the light on, then her eyes settled on him. He took a couple of steps into the room, then holding up the empty dart he whispered to her, "You were this afraid of me?" "Nick, ah, no, not exactly, but.... But I did bring it, Nick. Perhaps because Schanke mentioned I should take precautions, perhaps it was my anger that you wouldn't tell me what was going on.... But, Nick...I didn't think I'd genuinely need it, I didn't think you'd give me a reason to use it. Nick, if I was genuinely afraid of you, I wouldn't have bothered to come." He looked away; it was largely what he expected, what he had run through in his mind. Of course Schanke had probably grilled her, threatened him, maybe tried to convince Natalie her 'friend' was too dangerous. "Was I wrong?" Nick looked back and shook his head slightly. "No. No, you weren't wrong. I wouldn't have hurt you. I was...I was stunned when--" He cut off, trying to say what he saw making him recall that horrific moment in crisp images. "And yes, you were right that I do still want you to help me. And that's what you came here for, isn't it? You were still willing to continue. You truly, simply wanted an explanation, wanted to help. You wanted to understand...." "Yes." This was his fault, and there was nothing he could do. "I'm sorry for this, Natalie," he apologised, turning to leave. "Nick, I--" "Sleep, Doctor," he said somewhat harshly, spinning back to meet her gaze. "Rest." With that he continued to the door, flipped out the light, and pulled the door closed behind him. Nick didn't bother with the stairs this time, either. He knew if he didn't immediately come down he might sit outside the bedroom all day. And he also knew he wouldn't get any sleep, any rest of his own. Elusive Gains - Nick - (12/26) As the sun went down, Nick became somewhat concerned that Natalie still slept. He had gone up to his room at that point, but didn't approach too close. While there, he pulled out a change of clothes and any necessities as silently as he could; he would prepare for work or at least change clothes downstairs. And there he waited, alternatively pacing, walking to the fridge, and sitting either at the piano or on the couch. He couldn't very well play anything--it'd certainly wake Natalie--and with her there that kept him from actually opening the fridge. During one of his pacing fits he had even done a little research, trying to get a better idea of what Natalie had been knocked out with. He still wasn't sure what to do when she woke, what to say. He didn't know her thoughts. He supposed it was good that she hadn't protested when he had left the bedroom, but her heart beat more slowly than normal and she had looked genuinely tired. Who says that wouldn't have been her choice? Eventually he decided when she woke he would take her to her apartment. As quickly as possible. That way she would maybe feel safer if she was, indeed, afraid of him. If not...he still didn't know what to do, but knew what he should do: End this here and now. Take her home and then work toward leaving: Quit his job, pack, and then just go. As it got closer to the start of his shift, merely half an hour left, Nick broke down and called in. He didn't get any comments or questions, so he supposed Schanke hadn't said anything about what he'd seen. Maybe. He could see Stonetree waiting until he came in. He had had to lie somewhat, saying something had come up and that he'd be in when he could...which he would, and he hoped it wouldn't be a problem. And then he had had little option but to get his evening meal. He could feel himself getting antsy again, on edge, and since Natalie was still there he either had to drink something or they'd probably argue again when she woke. Nick crossed to the fridge, pulled out a bottle, then going around the corner he pulled a glass out of the cupboard. Filling the glass full like he had the previous night, he set it on the counter. He paused a moment; Natalie had woken again. Trying not to let it stop him and hoping he would have the glass finished before she left his room, Nick put the bottle back. Nick had just barely took a sip as the door to his room opened. He could feel Natalie looking down on him, and without looking back he told her, "I'll take you to your apartment and then to work." "You don't have--" "Yes, I do. It's my fault; I'll take you. You probably shouldn't drive." "Nick, I--" "When do you need to be at work?" he asked, cutting off her half-hearted protests. He didn't want her to be late on his count, and he hadn't been keeping track of her schedule since he had started working himself. "Uh, not until midnight, but Nick, I'll be fine." Nick shook his head again. She wasn't fine. Even after a day thinking, even looking in a couple of books, he wasn't completely sure what had been in the dart. "I want to at least drive you home." He then paused, then tested, "I'm sure you want to leave here." "Nick...." He turned away from her protest and took a long drink from his glass. She was surely still watching him, but he forced himself to drink what remained in one more deep drink. Then he took it to the sink, where he rinsed the blood out of the glass. He could hear her walking toward and then down the stairs. "Please, Nick, I'm sorry, but--" "Don't apologise. You have no reason to apologise," he snapped as he turned to look at her again. Then, trying to calm his emotions as she neared the bottom of the stairs, he asked, "Your things are down here. We can leave immediately, if you would like?" She shook her head at him and started walking toward him without hesitation. "I'll stay until you need to go to work." He didn't understand why she didn't want to leave; it was well after sunset...it's not like it was mid-afternoon, but late evening. She only stopped her approach once she was within his reach, and she wasn't afraid at all. His eyes darted to her injured hand, the one that had looked like it had started to bruise late that morning when he last looked at it late that morning. He gradually started his hand toward it, only for her to hold it up for him. Her blouse had long sleeves and he had to roll the end back a bit to really see where he had grabbed. It was worse than he thought. A large swath of skin from the base of her palm well down her forearm had turned various shades of red, brown, and a plumy black. The bruise was rather dark overall, and while uneven it was large. "I did this to you," he whispered, a bit stunned. "I didn't realise...." "Yes, and I know why, Nick. It's both our faults, and more mine than yours. And it will heal. So forget about it." Nick let go of her hand and moved back and away. How could she pass this off? When she had said he had done all but permanently injure her, she had been right. The bruise would probably last for weeks as it was. He nearly startled as she touched his cheek with that injured hand, and he fought the urge to close his eyes as she turned his face back toward her. He allowed it, almost basking in the warm skin of her gentle touch. "Nick, please, let me be your friend. More than just your doctor, but a friend. And let others in. You can't both push humanity away and strive for it. It won't work." At that he carefully pulled her hand away, touching her arm below the bruise and gripping the fingers of her hand so as not to cause her pain. He knew she was right, but he had been trying to prevent just what she was suggesting, and he ever so slightly shook his head. "It hasn't worked, but you can change that." "How can you keep giving me another chance? And why? I don't understand it," he said, genuinely confused, his hands still gently holding her arm. "And I don't understand why you're so determined to scare me off, Nick. I don't think it's in your nature." "My nature is to kill," he quickly reminded her, but she shook her head. "No, not the nature of the vampire, of what you are, but your nature, Nick. Your personality. What you are is separate from who you are." "How can you be sure? How can you be so very sure?" "Because I'm still alive and my wrist isn't broken. And because you still want to do this, you still want to be mortal. I know you do. If you didn't, I'm sure we'd be well on the way to my apartment. We wouldn't still be discussing this." Nick abruptly released her arm and backed away, out of her reach. Again, she was right, but he shouldn't allow her to help him for her sake. Today had shown that, and yet he knew things would be different now...especially if he did let them become closer, more like friends like she was suggesting. "Nick, *you* are not a killer. Do you truly believe you would even consider the possibility of becoming mortal if you were?" "You really think I can? Be mortal, be human?" he cautiously asked, a hint of wistfulness creeping into his voice. He wanted it, but.... "I mean, not just the scientific aspect of it, but everything?" "Yes. And you already are human." "Am I? Perhaps," he thought, but added, "But flawed. Very flawed, as I'm sure you've noticed." "So am I, Nick. Humans are flawed. But I can try to make you a better person, too, if that's what you want?" He liked the sound of that. He had only ever been told how to be less human, less mortal and more distant. Most friendships he had had were out of necessity or one or the other wanted something, that want overshadowing any want for distance he might normally portray. He couldn't do that as a mortal. As she had told him he'd get himself killed or probably be just as miserable as he was now. Maybe her suggestion of friendship wasn't such a bad idea, and Nick smiled slightly for the first time since she had woken. "I'd like that," he told her, but he didn't even know if she would help him again, try again. "If you will still help me, after this." Nick nodded toward the bruise he had given her. "And what about the tranquilliser? I might not have planned on using it, but I brought it, Nick. And I had it out in my hand." "I don't blame you for bringing it," he quickly, honestly replied. He wasn't upset or angry, and he hoped she could see that. "I gave you plenty of reason, didn't I? Both last night and in the past. You brought it so you could, maybe, get away if I tried something, even if only a few minutes, or seconds. But the intention was not to harm me." "How do you know that?" He considered a little, slowly telling her, "For one, you're still alive. Second, its primary effects wore off in about fifteen minutes and you went into a more natural sleep. You probably had no idea if it would even work on me. It was a short-action barbiturate, yes?" The last he wasn't sure was correct, but when he saw her surprise he smiled a little. "I've been a doctor, remember?" "Yeah, but when? Where?" "On and off, here and there," he said in response to her curiosity. "Often--" "Often what?" Nick almost didn't answer; he felt it a little too personal, but he forced himself to answer, "Often during war time," his gaze drifting a little as he thought, remembered flashes of those experiences. "So you're not, ah, angry? I vaguely remember seeing a hint of it when I woke up that first time." "No, I'm not angry." He could tell she didn't quite believe him, and so he explained, "Perhaps a little, then, but not at you. I didn't think I'd pushed you that far...far enough to even consider something like that. But then it was part instinct, wasn't it? To bring it? And I know what instinct can do, how strong it can be." "I didn't think I'd need it. I'd planned to walk out with it still in my hand. Or, better yet, in my coat or--" "I'm sorry, Natalie, I didn't know about it." Then he almost smiled. "You...did well at concealing it from me. And yes, like you believe, I had no wish to physically hurt you. Not here, today, and not last night." "I know." Now was as good a time to try and explain, try to vaguely apologise and remind her of the danger she could be in, and he told her, "I have to tell you that I was not fully in control, Natalie, not last night. I didn't realise...I didn't know I had hurt you, or not that badly. And if we continue, despite my...good intentions, there is the possibility that I might harm or kill you. I could have done far more than simply bruise you." He paused, his thoughts going back to when he had left, when Schanke had come in, and he prodded, "What are you going to tell Schanke about this? About today?" "Nothing." "Nothing?" He could barely believe that. She seemed to be friends, or at least good acquaintances with the other detective, and surely he would ask. "Nothing. He knows I came here to talk to you, and that's all he needs to know happened." "And if he comes to me?" "Make something up and try to be his friend," she suggested with a shrug. Nick didn't like the sound of that at all. "Natalie...." "You can't go around making everyone hate you." "Why not?" he said with a smile, a faintly whining smirk. "Well, for one it probably uses up valuable energy." "And?" "And that's your next prescription. Let others in, Nick. Let them be your friend if they want to be, okay? It'll do you some good." He just looked at her at that. It was one thing to perhaps let her in, but others...that was a whole other step as far as he was concerned. "I'm serious, Nick. If nothing else, think of it as getting into the holiday spirit a bit early. Be happy and others will be too." "Natalie, Christmas isn't for another month. And I'm a vampire, remember? It's not exactly the most friendly holiday for me." "Well, you don't have to do anything in particular, Nick. I just suggested you get into the mood. It's a happy time of year, or should be. I just want you to try to be friendlier to people, okay? Try, and please, please, please tell me when you have trouble with things and don't assume it's going to piss me off, like you seem to think." Nick tensed at her begging for him to talk to her. "I'm sorry, Natalie. I didn't want you to know. I don't like disappointing you." She smiled at him at his response, but he couldn't return it; he had already disappointed her so much. "So, ah, when do you need to be at work?" Glancing at a clock on the wall, Nick found his shift had definitely started. He tried to hide his reaction, but she noticed his glance and his combined wince and sheepish smile. "What? When?" "Half an hour ago," he admitted. "Nick...." "I wanted to make sure you would be okay. It's fine. I called and said something came up, that I'd be in as soon as I could." He watched her look around for her things, then looked away while she grabbed her jacket and coat and pulled them on. She didn't look for her purse; she must have left it in her car. She hadn't expected to stay long, he suspected. Certainly not all day. "Don't you have to get ready for work?" Nick shook his head; he was ready, had been for a couple of hours. "I did. Earlier, before you got up." She seemed to look at him curiously at that, but he turned away to gather his own things--he didn't plan on coming back inside before going to work, just flying back to get his car--so he grabbed his keys and trenchcoat, then waited until she started for the door. "I want you to tell me something about you that I don't know at least once a week. And I mean about you, not about what you are. Starting this week." "Starting next week," he quickly said; he had, after all, vaguely told her when he'd worked in her area of expertise. He hadn't been a full-fledged doctor, though. He had never managed to complete all the training; he had tried once, but LaCroix had forced him out of that life. He hadn't bothered to try again. Dragging his mind to the present, he glanced back to her, "And I'll need your keys." She immediately pulled them out, but then retracted her hand before he could take them. "How are you going to get to work then?" "I'll...manage. I can call a cab or something," he said with a shrug and a smile. "Just don't tell me you're going to drive my car to work and then pick me up later...." "No, I'm just going to drive you to your apartment." He held out his hand, but she didn't give him her keys. "At least let me pay for a cab, then. I could even take one back to my apartment if you'd rather not take me." "No. And I'll get to work fine, Doctor." "I thought you'd fixed that." "*Natalie,*" Nick corrected with a small bow and accompanying smile, which both got her to smile and she held out her keys, which he took. "I want to know something new about you on the way to my apartment, though. Even something little. Anything." Nick's smile had vanished at her suggestion, then he started toward the elevator. "Please?" "Not now. Please." He smiled, hoping that would get her to let this go for now. He was tired and didn't want to talk more right now. "I'll tell you two things next week, okay?" "That's okay, Nick." "And Natalie, please don't think you have to defend yourself around me. You don't. I'm sorry I made you doubt me. I really am," he told her somewhat awkwardly, then he pulled open the elevator door, which he held until Natalie entered. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Nick had tried to work at his desk until midnight approached, but he didn't get much done. Then he left for the morgue. He wanted to make sure Natalie had gotten to work all right. When he saw her car outside, Nick nearly turned around and left, but he wanted to make sure she seemed to be doing okay, physically, which meant getting closer. He entered and started toward autopsy, but he slowed as he heard Detective Schanke's grating and angry voice, asking to see Natalie's wrists, at which her heartrate skyrocketed, and then he reacted. Nick felt awful that Natalie was trying to explain, trying to pass off her injury, and he continued to listen, out of sight. If he had to he would try to convince Schanke all was fine more forcibly, perhaps even try to make him forget about what had happened. It was a risk, however, particularly with how strongly the other seemed to feel and how easily they could run into one another at shift changes. First he tensed at Schanke commenting about it seeming like he was somehow controlling her. Nick then nearly smiled when Natalie said they were friends...not that it seemed to help. When Schanke then somehow made the connection from Natalie being his doctor to him possibly having a bad reaction to some medication, Nick finally relaxed a little. Now Natalie would have something to latch onto, and after that both their hearts seemed to calm a bit. He tensed again when Natalie told the other he had done 'nothing to hurt or scare' her, which was an outright lie. He had both hurt and frightened her. And more. And he wouldn't say he had shown her much concern about what had happened. Not while she was conscious. For a moment he thought Schanke was going to start on another rant about him, but then he left almost immediately after. Nick had to fly out of sight, and he hoped Schanke hadn't seen him. Nick then nearly left; it had been his plan, but changed his mind as he walked back past the autopsy doors. He entered, only to find Natalie's back to him; it looked like she had just gotten there. "You lied," he said as he released the door. She spun, her heart once again racing. "You didn't have to lie to him." "No, Nick, I did. I'm not going to let him try to get you fired. And besides, it wasn't much of a lie." "You lied about me not hurting or scaring you. I did both." "Unintentionally." "Intentionally. Earlier today I had wanted to scare you to get you to consider staying at a distance." "But you were concerned." "Of course I was concerned!" he half yelled, and she backed away. "I didn't know what you'd put in that dart; it could have been fatal to you as far as I knew. It was so quick, I wasn't sure at first." "And you still are concerned." "You still lied," Nick spat back. He nearly started to pace, his thoughts racing, but then they latched onto her last comment. "What concern have I shown over what happened last night?" "You showed it, Nick." "I haven't. Your question of if I was angry told me your reaction to my attitude." "Are you trying to say you weren't even a little concerned you might have done more than scare me when you left here last night? A little concerned I shouldn't drive home?" He fidgeted; he hadn't really thought of that as concern, not concern for how she felt about any of this. "You were concerned, Nick. Whether or not you admit it, you were. Even if you weren't consciously aware of it, you were concerned. You're too concerned right now to not have been then." Relaxing somewhat, her words ringing correct, he looked away, glancing toward the door. "You don't have to say anything." Nick was somewhat thankful for her comment, and almost wished he hadn't come in. Almost. He was surprised how much better he felt, despite that he wasn't sure their conversation led anywhere. Pulling the door open, he hesitated a moment, looking back to her. "Thanks, Natalie," he murmured, then left, walking quickly for the exit. He was supposed to be at the precinct, working. Elusive Gains - Nick - (13/26) A little more than a week later, Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the 27th. Work and adapting to being around mortals constantly had been going much better, although tonight hadn't gone the best. He started out his shift driving, but soon after he'd taken a call to assist in apprehending a fleeing suspect. That had gone...not quite as planned. He had used what he was to get close, then he had been shot at--which broke a window--and a second suspect had shoved him back onto the broken shards. The young man had probably planned to get away, but beyond some momentary difficulty breathing he had been fine and had been able to hold onto the second suspect. The original suspect had then been shot by another officer, and the resulting blood-scent had put Nick on edge. He had handed over the suspect he had stopped, then had to talk his way out of being examined by the paramedics. His coat didn't have much blood on it, but it had several tears in the back...and they had been noticed. Then, as soon as he had gotten into his car and leaned back, he had realised something didn't feel quite right. He had been left with a souvenir from, he assumed, the window. At that he had ditched his car along the route back to the precinct, gone home, changed his shirt, jacket, and had to hunt for a new coat, and by then he ended up just going back to work. On his lunch break Nick had again gone home and made what turned out to be a rather feeble attempt at getting whatever was embedded in his back unstuck. All that had resulted in was bloodying several knives and making himself want for blood even more. And now, with merely half an hour of his shift left, he was staring intently at his phone. If he couldn't get to it, that meant he either needed to try to ignore it...or ask Natalie to remove it for him. He had already nearly called her at work, but didn't want to chance either someone else picking up or having to leave a message. The morgue wasn't the only place he could call her, however. He had memorised the phone numbers on the sheet of paper she had given him all those weeks ago, and somewhat reluctantly Nick reached for his phone and called her home number, where an answering machine answered. "Natalie...it's Nick. It would be nice if you could come over to my place after work. Bring your medical bag. Don't wait for me to answer, just come up. The entry code is 2583. Thanks." And then Nick hung up with a small wince. He didn't know quite when she would be by beyond sometime after he got home, and while he felt about as uncomfortable giving out his alarm code as he did sitting back in his chair right now, he knew Natalie would see it as him opening up to her, trusting her more, and he didn't think she'd use it to sneak around at his place while he wasn't there. The last half hour of his shift Nick actually managed to finish up a couple bits of paperwork--one having to do with what happened that night--and he was in a good mood as he left. Or he was until he sat back in his seat to drive home. It didn't hurt, per se, but whatever it was seemed to be sharp, so it shifted as he moved. It also seemed rather close to a bone, and that wasn't helping. Arriving home, Nick made sure his earlier attempt to remove the object was cleaned up, as well as his ruined clothes tossed. Then he changed, half for bed and half so that it'd be easy for Natalie to get to his back, and went to sit on the couch to wait. He flipped on one of the table lamps, then nearly leaned back, but caught himself. He didn't know if sitting back was making it worse, making the object bury itself deeper, and so he leaned forward, his arms on his knees. He didn't have to wait too overly long--only about an hour or perhaps a bit longer--before he heard the elevator start up. He hadn't been sure she would come right up given it would only be the second time she'd even been there...and the first time she hadn't exactly been invited. Nick remained sitting, his eyes locked on the door. It was a few seconds after the freight had come to a stop before the door slid rather slowly open, and Nick looked her over, checking to see if she had brought her bag; she had, and she smiled weakly at him. "What did you need this for?" she asked, tugging the bag upward in reference. "I have a minor...inconvenience." "You didn't get shot or something, did you?" Nick smiled awkwardly. "Besides, I thought you said those things don't hurt?" "They don't. It's just a tad annoying...and might set off a metal detector if it's metal, so I'd rather have it removed." "And...? It is a bullet, isn't it? You got shot and--" "I got shot *at*," he clarified. "And no, it's not a bullet...it didn't feel like a bullet." "Okay...then what is it?" "I don't know." "You don't know." "It's not wood, I'm sure of that. I...think it might be glass. A, uh, window shattered," he semi-explained, leaving out the bit about being shoved back onto the edge of said window. He stood, and started toward the kitchen. "Where?" Nick turned more lights on, telling her, "Hopefully the wound is still somewhat visible," as he then pulled out one of the chairs and spun it around to face the other way. Nick avoided her gaze as he sat, straddling the chair, and he slid one arm out of his robe so that she'd not have to hold anything out of her way to work. "What am I looking for?" "Whatever looks...newly healed," he suggested. "Nick...." He watched as she set her bag on the table rather abruptly. "I can't help it." "And I thought you said something about things usually passing right through you." "That's why I don't think it's a bullet. A bullet would have passed through me, this didn't. You'll probably need to do a bit more than just pulling it out. It's not too deep, but it is completely beneath the skin." He just watched as she pulled out forceps and scalpel in a sterile package, not one bit bothered by either the blade or her seeming hesitancy before she and moved behind him. Then, nothing for over a minute. "I think you're going to need to help me out here, Nick." He reached his left hand back and over to the other side, as far as he easily could. "About here. It's about an inch over and up from there. You should be able to feel it, I think," he told her--if he could feel it, she should, he hoped? He closed his eyes as her fingers touched the area, sliding over it looking for where the object was embedded. She had found it quickly, and he watched her pull out a pair of gloves from her bag and put them on. Then she pushed the scalpel out of its package and again moved behind him. He shifted his arm so that it was between his chest and the chair. "This might hurt a bit, and Nick, please don't move." "It won't hurt," he assured her with a glance and a smile. "Uh, Nick, you have anything I could use to wipe the blood away with?" "It'll be fine," Nick again reassured. "Just...sit still, then, okay?" Nick silently nodded and again felt her now-gloved fingers on his back, then a pause, then a warm sensation as she cut into him once, then again, and then he felt something being pulled free. That hadn't taken long at all. "What was it?" "A piece of glass." Nick turned to see her looking at it with interest. "What should I do with it?" "Just rinse it off and throw it out." "And it didn't hurt at all?" Nick just smiled at her incredulity. While watching her walk to the sink, rinse the piece of glass, her tools, and gloves off, he pulled his robe back up over his shoulder and straightened it. Natalie discarded the glass and her gloves in his trash bin under the sink, then washed her hands. When she turned and started back toward him, he noticed she seemed to be eyeing his robe. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in a short-sleeved shirt. Not even over the summer." "And?" he asked, tensing a bit. "Just an observation. You just seem a bit reluctant to show any skin whatsoever." She worked at putting her things away, then turned to look at him. "Not even to your doctor, who's trying to help you." Nick could hear her almost teasing tone, and relaxed a little. She was right, at least about what she had seen; he often wore less formal clothes when alone at home, but she hadn't seen that. "Come here and turn around, Nick. I want to see how it's healing." "It's healed." "Then let me see it. Come on, Nick...." Nick returned to the chair and let the robe slide down to reveal the newly healed skin, which she then gently touched, as if it should be tender. He swivelled his head around. "I told you that it had healed." "I-I see that." Standing, he again pulled the robe back up over his shoulder before turning to face her. "Why isn't there any blood?" "Because of what I am." "Yes, but...your body actually pulled the blood back in." "Yes. And you've seen that before," he told her, sure she would have that night he had been brought in to the morgue. "It shouldn't be a surprise." But it was easily apparent to him that it was. She must have filed what she had seen away and forgotten about it. "I have? When?" "The night we met." Nick slowly walked around her so that he stood behind her. His eyes darted to her neck for a moment; he was hungry, having forgone his morning meal, wanting to wait until the object had been removed. He leaned a little closer, whispering over her shoulder, "I'm sure you saw something. Explosions are very messy when it comes to the victims...." "You...." After a moment of no response, Nick continued, setting his fingers just rest on her shoulders as he told her, "I'm sure you noticed there wasn't any blood left in the body bag after I left." She startled at the touch, and he pulled his hands back as she spun. "I'm sure you noticed. You're a doctor. A coroner. As you've told me, your profession is to notice things." "I noticed," she finally whispered back to him in answer. "I didn't understand it then. I...I wasn't sure how much I remembered right, if I had really seen the blood." "You know now." "Yes, I do." Nick tried to smile at her, but his thoughts were on things other than their conversation. He walked over to the refrigerator, on autopilot, but shut it right away. "Nick--" "I am doing better at the precinct," he told her, wanting to get her attention off his slip, off the refrigerator, which he still stood in front of. "You know, you could go to one of the precinct functions sometime." "Most are during the day," he immediately replied, then started to worry at her continued smile. "The charity dinner next month isn't. Yeah, that involves more than just the 27th precinct, but..." He turned away from her. A dinner. He wasn't sure what aspect of that frightened him more: The people or the food. Just on a daily basis he tried keeping what he was from being noticed, but at a dinner that would be doubly difficult. As it is others could pick out that something was odd about him, but when he barely ate or drank anything, or worse, if he got ill after managing to eat something... "I'll go with you, okay?" "It's a dinner," was all he could manage. "And?" "And I can't exactly eat anything, remember?" "Oh, come on, Nick! You've been a vampire since the first part of the thirteenth century. I'm sure you've had to pretend through a few dinners since then?" "Maybe I haven't," he nervously told her, not expecting it to help him escape. "Maybe I'm just not that kind of person." "I doubt it. When you do interact with people, you seem to like it. I've seen it when you're working. I've seen you smile a couple of times." "Maybe it's a show." "No, I don't think it is." He looked away. He couldn't help but think it'd be easier to reply if she wasn't right. "I'm going to head home, I guess." Nick felt a bit bad as she gathered up her things, then started for the elevator. She was nearly there when he flew up behind her. "Natalie?" She turned to look at him with a faint hint of surprise to her features. "Thank you, Natalie. And..." Nick then paused, hoping he wouldn't regret this, and told her, "I'll consider attending the dinner. Really. You say it's in a month?" "First week of January." He watched her slip backward into the elevator, then vanish behind the door, smiling at him. He did his best to smile back, but failed; he had a feeling she would talk him into going to the dinner. He would rather not, but it was that or probably try to push him into joining the precinct bowling league or something.... Thinking about that, the dinner didn't sound that bad. Elusive Gains - Nick - (14/26) The end of the year approached quickly, and Nick found himself working Christmas Eve night. It didn't bother him, except for the constant holiday greetings, especially as it got closer to clicking over to the next day. He had completely settled back in to drinking cow's blood and only cow's blood, and had even been able to cut back on the amount overall to a new low. Natalie had been pleased at their last meeting. "I thought you were supposed to have the night off, Nick." He started slightly as Natalie stopped next to his desk, at which he pointed out, "So were you, I believe." "I am off. I went by your place and you didn't answer. Your car was gone, too. So, I figured I'd try here." Nick smiled, knowing she was curious. "I...traded nights with one of the other detectives," he admitted. "Hmm...any particular reason?" "Well, I don't have a family, do I? Others do," he answered, although it wasn't necessarily that he didn't have a family...it was just one holiday he'd rather spend busy working than brooding alone at home. "So...I switched with one of the other detectives." "That was nice of you." "I suppose," he replied rather absently. Then he put down his work, leaning back in his chair. "So, what brings you here?" "Well...I thought I'd drop by and wish you a nice holiday--" Nick tried not to groan; truthfully, though, he minded the holiday wishes less from Natalie than from his co-workers. "--and...." She seemed to stop at that, and he prodded, "And what?" as she started fiddling with her coat. Then, he saw it: A small box in silver and gold wrapping paper. A gift...a Christmas gift. He hadn't considered getting her anything, not sure what would be appropriate or even if it was appropriate. Apparently Natalie decided it was. "I wanted to give you this," she said and held the small box out to him. Nick just looked at it, the gift. He had nothing to give her in return, and the box looked about the size jewellery came in. Jewellery or something equally expensive. He couldn't think of anything simple that might fit in such a small box. "I can't, Nat. I can't accept a gift from you." "You can and you will. Go on, take it. Open it." Nick felt uncomfortable, but Natalie kept holding the package out toward him. Another detective had noticed his reluctance, and tentatively he took the wrapped box. He carefully removed the silver paper with its gold stars, making sure not to tear it. Left with a simple black jewellery-type box, he pulled its top off. Folded white tissue paper lay above whatever the gift was, and he pulled that off and put it with the lid of the box. It wasn't jewellery, but instead a coin with a sailing ship embossed in it. It was a good four hundred years old, by his guess. "It's supposed to be a token. Fifteen hundreds, or about there." "A marine token," he whispered and got a nod. "Turn it over." Nick hesitated, but carefully did so using the tissue paper. There in the centre part of the coin was a sun and moon. He nearly smiled, but knew she had picked this specifically for him. "I saw it and thought you might like it." While he did rather like it, his thoughts were on the inconvenience for her. The token wouldn't have been cheap, he suspected. "How much did you pay for it?" "It's a gift, Nick." "Yes, it's just...I don't want you to spend a lot of money on me." "If it helps, I got a discount on it." It didn't help much, and he still felt uncomfortable not having something to give in return. He glanced away as he admitted, "I...didn't get you anything." "That's fine, Nick. I wasn't going to, either. But, I saw this while looking for something for a relative and, as I said, I thought you might like it. You do, don't you?" Nick nodded, smiling. "And you're not lying?" He grinned, assuring her, "No, I'm not. But I still don't like accepting this, not when I don't have anything to give in return." "You can agree to go to the dinner." Nick's smile vanished and his eyes darted away. The dinner. She had tried to get him to agree twice since she had initially brought it up, but he hadn't yet done so. "Come on, Nick, it's not much, and I'd much prefer that than any fancy gift you might be able to get me." "I...." he started to protest, but he could see that even there in the precinct Natalie apparently wasn't going to back down. "You said you'd try to socialise more with your co-workers. And this would be a good opportunity for you to do that, and I believe the dinner falls on your night off. And, if you come, maybe I'll stop pestering you about telling me something new about you every week, since you don't seem to like that idea much." "Nat, I...." he tried again, but relented as he knew he eventually would, "Okay. Okay, I'll go." "Good," she said, smiling at him, as she turned to leave. "Natalie?" "Hmm?" "Thanks, Nat," he said, returning her smile. "You're welcome...but don't you dare try and back out of this." "I won't." Nick watched her grin and head toward the exit. When she vanished, he looked down at her gift to him. It was still flipped to the side with the sun and moon. He hadn't seen one of these for some time, and he thought this particular token was rather unique. He liked her gift more than she knew. Covering it with the tissue and closing the box, Nick put it away, safe in one of his desk drawers, his thoughts already trying to decide how to repay Natalie for the present. The dinner wasn't enough; that was more for him than her, he knew--or that's the way she would see it. He only had about two weeks until the dinner. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. The two weeks passed in a flash for Nick. He again switched with someone for New Year's Eve; celebrating another year gone got old after centuries of them. He only particularly enjoyed certain years. He wondered if he might be mortal for the turn of the next century...less than a decade away. For his present of sorts to Natalie he had not only gone to the dinner but also taken her to the opera after. She had been surprised, but she seemed to have enjoyed it. He had warned her a couple of days before, suggesting that she be well-rested prior to the dinner but not telling her why. The dinner itself had gone... Well, it was over with, which was the most important part. He hadn't gotten a chance to say what he wanted--she had quickly told their table's server he wanted the steak, and he wanted it very rare. And it had certainly been rare, but he still hadn't been able to eat much of it...just a couple of bites, and after he had sucked them dry of the fatty blood that oozed from it the pieces had been unchewable. His wine had been another matter. That he had managed to finish, although only because he added blood to it. He knew Natalie had seen him, once, but she hadn't commented either then or later. He had added a whole flask full between three glasses, much of which assisted in washing down the barely chewed meat. Her plate had garlic-chicken of some sort, and if nothing else it meant he knew she wouldn't be offering any of that for him to try. Others had been watching him more closely, though; both him and Natalie. All the others at the table were married couples, and rumours had started up about him and Natalie. His assertion that they weren't a couple seemed to just make the others more certain that they were. He somewhat regretted trying to dispel their assumptions. Natalie had also noticed his donation; it had been under his mortal surname, which she knew. She had eyed him rather curiously as the larger donations were announced after the dinner, and he had squirmed rather uncomfortably under her smiling gaze which he had returned. It had been the second largest donation of the bunch, and not a small sum. That had been another topic, as of course no one had ever heard of the foundation that had donated. Nick also suspected Natalie knew he had either used what he was or more of his money to get them in for the opera performance; it had been the latter, but he didn't mind. The cost was small to him compared to what she had spent on him and his quest, he suspected. After the performance Natalie asked him about the opera--Faust--and he had stopped at a park to further indulge her curiosity. Her perceptiveness turned his thoughts a bit dark, however, and he had eventually stopped replying. It wasn't his favourite opera by far. For several minutes they had just walked silently on a sidewalk, slowly to avoid patches of snow and ice, his attention drifting periodically to Natalie as the cold started to become too much, even with his coat on over hers. He only had his white dress shirt on, his jacket back in the Caddy. As Natalie started shivering once again, he asked, "I could take you home, if you'd like?" "No, that's okay," she answered with a shake of her head. "You're cold." "Maybe a little, but not much. Really. You didn't have to do all this. I mean, the opera.... It was a bit more than necessary, don't you think?" "No." "Well, it's just...you could have, maybe, told me before...." she said, stopping. Nick stopped walking as well, this comment bothering him more than the rest; maybe he should have said something, told her more specifically about his plans. Turning to face her, he apologised, "I'm sorry. I should have said more than I did about that." He hesitated, realising it was also getting late and Natalie probably wanted to get home--they had been out, doing something, for a good nine or more hours. This was the longest they had spent together with both of them conscious. "I suppose we should be heading home? I need to be back before sunrise, and you're not exactly dressed to be out here." Nick slowly started back the other way, back past Natalie and toward where he had parked his car. He heard her move and thought that she was coming, but not hearing her footsteps he stopped. Next thing he knew something wet and sloshy slammed into the base of his skull. "Sorry." Nick instinctively changed, and he remained turned away until his fangs had retracted. "Nick?" Turning, Nick watched her take a step back; his eyes were still gold, he knew, but seeing her it was clear she hadn't meant to upset him. He smirked a little as his vision cleared, and he watched her reach down to make another glob of snow. He flew up toward her as she wasn't looking, and her arm sailed past him as she aimed for where he had been. She startled, slipping, and he tried to catch her only to be yanked forward. The best he could manage was to twist so that he fell back next to Natalie rather than fall forward right on top of her. The wet snow along the walkway felt oddly cold, and he sat up a bit disoriented. He heard Natalie let out a short giggle, and he asked, "Having fun?" "Uh, yeah, actually. I'm not wet." Nick tensed as he felt her warm hands brushing off the icy slush sticking to his shirt. "I'm a bit surprised you fell." "So am I," Nick admitted as he slowly stood, then he helped Natalie stand as well. He tried to pull back as she took her free hand, full of snow, and shoved a large percentage of the offending ice into the front of his shirt. Right on his skin it was uncomfortable, and his now rather wet shirt made him feel rather colder than a few minutes ago. He tried to shake the snow out, but to get rid of it he had to untuck his shirt to shake it free. "You sure you don't get cold, Nick?" "There's dry cold, and then there's wet cold," he told her, unable to keep his annoyance out of his voice. Looking up at her, however, he smiled. "And you're still dry," he added, before he flew out of her sight, behind a tree off to her right. Still grinning, he quickly made a large, loose ball of snow, then he flew back, her back now to him, and he pulled back both his coat and hers and dropped the snow down onto her bare upper back. "Nick, where-- Oh geez!" He watched her shake the coats to get the snow mostly free, then she turned, but he had flown off again. "Nick, that's not fair! I can't do whatever it is you're doing!" Nick threw a glob of snow at her back, then flew off again. "You're cheating!" "No I'm not," he said from behind her. By now he was fully grinning; he was enjoying this. He hadn't had this much fun with snow for...well, for centuries. "Yes you are! I can't do that and you know it!" "You started it." "And?" Nick watched as she tried to reach for more snow, and he flew the few feet to her, grabbed her gently around the waist, and spun her away. They both ended up in the soppy snow along the side of the walkway once again. Then, a few seconds later, Nick found himself being pelted with the icy slush. He finally laughed at this, and tossed what he could back at Natalie until she finally stood up. He suddenly felt a bit tired, cold, and didn't try to pull her back down. A moment later, though, he had another fistful thrown right in his face. "You're taking this awfully well...." "Why shouldn't I?" he asked, brushing the slush from his cheek. "Well, at first I wasn't sure. Frankly, for a second I thought, ah, well.... And then, well, I don't know what you did, but let's just say I was a bit startled. You never said anything about being able to move like that, I mean, really move, and...." Nick stood up, unconsciously rubbing the fingers of his hands together. It didn't help. Suddenly he felt rather hungry. "Give me your keys, Nick." "W-what?" he stuttered a bit, turning toward Natalie's hot form. She was still mostly dry, he noticed, his trenchcoat having protected her. But why would she want his keys? "Give me your keys. I'm going to drive you to my place. You need to get out of those clothes." Nick shook his head, although he did feel rather off. He'd rather go home to his apartment. "I'll be fine. Cold won't kill me." "Perhaps not, but you are definitely being affected by it. Your clothes are soaked through, and I'd rather drive if you keep shaking. Come on, hand 'em over." Nick hesitated, but he *was* shivering and he did have to at least either drop Natalie off or otherwise take her home, and so he managed to pull out his keys and hand them to her. "Good, and you better hope that heater of yours works better than earlier." Nick barely even reacted to her comment, just following her back toward his car. Elusive Gains - Nick - (15/26) Arriving back at Natalie's building, Nick was pulled and pushed reluctantly inside, to the elevator, then out into the hall and to her apartment. He felt too sluggish to protest. Once in her apartment, the door closed behind him, Nick's thoughts finally coalesced and he told her, "I'm fine. I'll just head back to my place." "No you won't." He closed his eyes as she brought a hand to the side of his face, her skin so very hot. His beast rose up, and he had to clench his teeth together tightly, which thankfully was just enough pressure to keep his fangs from descending until he could regain control. "For one, it's nearly dawn, and for another, you might be a vampire and you might be able to recover quicker from this, but you're still freezing cold. You need out of those clothes." Nick didn't, couldn't react as she started undoing the buttons on his shirt, his mind still trying to digest what she had said. On some level he agreed with it; he was cold to the point he trembled slightly and if he were home he'd certainly change. Feeling her tug his belt loose, he caught her hands before she could undress him further, pushed them back, and stepped backward toward the door. "Don't," he whispered. "Nick, you need to get dry." "I'll be fine," he assured her and started to turn, only for Natalie to stop him by grabbing his arm. He stopped, even after she abruptly released him for some reason he couldn't quite process. "Please, Nick, I'd prefer if you stayed the day here. The sooner you get warm and dry, the sooner you'll feel better." Nick no longer had the will to leave, but the idea of staying when he felt like this... "Come on." He again felt her hand on his arm, pulling him deeper into her apartment, toward the bathroom. She guided him into the doorway, then he felt lightly shoved into the tiny room. "Get those clothes off and take a shower. A warm shower. Towels on the rack are clean." "Natalie...." Nick started, but she had pulled the door shut behind him. He closed his eyes, his head bowing out of tiredness. The room was colder than the rest of her apartment, but the warm shower she suggested sounded good. Even a cold shower sounded good; anything as long as the water wasn't frozen or nearly frozen. He hesitated a little before actually starting the water, which he made only slightly warm. Then he stripped off his clothes, hanging them on the end of the towel rack rather haphazardly. His shirt was soaked to the point it dripped; he hadn't realised that until now. The warm water felt good on his chilled skin, and Nick closed his eyes and just stood under it, his hands against the wall for several minutes. He stood under the water until he no longer shivered periodically, then waited a few more, just to make sure his body had warmed back up to normal. He had to admit the shower helped, but he didn't feel any less hungry than he had earlier. The dinner hadn't really gone the best, and their little snow-fight had drained his body of more than just his already low body temperature. Flipping the water off and drying off, Nick only then realised he had nothing to change into unless he put his cold, wet clothes back on. He hung up the now rather wet towel over the shower bar, and rearranged his clothes on the towel rack so that they hung in less of a clump. The second bath towel he wrapped snugly around his waist so that it would both stay and hopefully stay more than a few moments. Nick paused at the door before opening it, listening for Natalie. She seemed to be in the kitchen, and he cautiously left and started toward her movements. He noticed sunlight streaming through a window, his eyes drawn to it for a moment before he slipped into the doorway just a few feet from her. His coat and car keys were on a ledge between the kitchen and the other room, and while the shades were open between the rooms she hadn't seen him approach. He smiled a little as she foraged in the freezer, pulling a box out only to sigh and back it back, and then grab another. She was trying to pick something that wouldn't bother him. Then she turned back toward him, started forward, then dropped her soon-to-be meal. "Hi," he managed as she then retrieved the fallen box. Then, rather hopefully, he asked her, "I don't suppose you have something I can change into, do you?" "Uh, n-no, I don't. Not really. Ah, sun's coming up." "I noticed." Nick's eyes darted to the box in her hand, his smile faltering slightly. "Uh...I'm just a bit hungry. You don't mind?" "As long as there's no garlic in it, no, I don't mind." "Nope, no garlic." "And preferably no steak," he added, his smile vanishing completely. Just the thought of looking at mortal food made him feel rather queasy; more so than usual. "No steak. It's, ah, turkey." Nick just looked at her, feeling rather awkward as she looked him over rather closely. Was she looking to see if he had any scars, or was her long glance non-professional? She looked away from him then said, "You can sleep in my room if you want. I might be up a bit and, as you can see, there's a bit too much light in the living room." "I'll be fine," he assured her, nearly starting to turn to head there. "Nick, sleep in my room. I might be up for a while, and this way I won't bother you. It's fine. I insist." "Nat--" "After tonight, you better do as I say." Nick froze as she put her dinner box down and stepped closer. "I'm sure those seats cost quite a bit, Nick. The least you can do is accept my hospitality, okay?" Smiling, Nick nodded. Her bedroom would be better, he just somewhat worried about her cat...it was hiding in her room, and had every other time he had been in her apartment. "Good," she said, stopping right in front of him. "And Nick? You should smile more. Truly smile, like you are now. And *laugh*. Tonight was the first time I'd heard you really laugh, and it suits you." He gave her a playful smirk as he remembered their little diversion, the one that caused him to be standing there barely clothed in her kitchen, but he also remembered her reaction to seeing his speed. She had been frightened at seeing his abilities up close, specifically one he hadn't told her about. "What's wrong?" "I frightened you. You even said as much." She watched her tense; she couldn't refute it. "Well, can you blame me? I mean...I still don't know what you did earlier. It was like you...flew or something." He grinned, merely confirming, "Something like that. I suppose you could say it's a perk of being a vampire." "You never mentioned it before." "Before, I wasn't sure I'd be staying," he admitted. Then, more tentatively, he told her, "I wasn't sure how much you could be trusted with." "And tonight?" "Just...put it down as one of those weekly bits of information you wanted, okay? Even if it is about what I am and not who I am." "On the condition that you take my room." Nick started to protest but she put her fingers on his lips, stopping him. He froze feeling the hot warmth of her fingers. "I can sleep out here, I don't mind." He tensed further as he felt Natalie's hot hands on the bare skin of his back and arms as she turned him around and started pushing him out of the kitchen and likely to her bedroom. At this he had had enough, and he shut his eyes, stopping, not allowing her to guide him any further out of the room. "Nick? What's wrong?" "Nothing," he whispered, although it was a lie. His eyes had changed, his fangs coming down at her touch; neither seemed to want to return to their more human appearance. "Just...I think I can get there on my own. That's all. Now, please...." "Sorry." Nick felt her hand abruptly release his arm, and he walked quickly out of her reach, heading to her bedroom. Natalie's cat slunk out of his way, then it thankfully ran out of the room; he didn't particularly like the idea of watching it stare out at him from the closet, or perhaps prod him when or if he fell asleep. Nick shut the door quickly behind the cat, closing his eyes again as he leaned up against the door. His hunger didn't seem to be backing off, even now that he was in a different room than Natalie. Her touch had been so very enticing. He hadn't minded it in and of itself like before, but the emotions and basal wants her touch had woken did bother him. He stayed at the door, listening, making sure she wasn't going to check on him. Natalie seemed to be making her meal. Relaxing a little, he pushed away from the door and turned his attention to the room. It wasn't very large, and her bed was neatly made. Feeling tiredness creeping up on him, knowing he would need to sleep sooner rather than later, Nick lay on the nearest side of the bed. He tried not to cross his hands over his heart, but it felt uncomfortable. Nearly drifting off once, Nick discovered them recrossed and gave in to instinct so that he might be able to drift off more fully. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. "Nick, please, don't...." Nick woke to finding himself pinning down and about to feed from Natalie. He was so very hungry, his fangs brushed ever so slightly against her throat, a hand holding her head to the side so that she couldn't stop him. He couldn't pull away, and he kissed the crook of her neck thankful he hadn't already killed her or bitten her. He tried to move away, kissing along her jaw, but her sweet blood called to him and his fangs again touched the soft flesh above her carotid.... No, he couldn't do this. He'd kill her if he fed from her, even a drop, and Nick managed to stop, shifting his weight so that he no longer crushed her beneath him. He gave her a light, tender kiss on her temple, then rolled away, almost flying from the room--he would have if he'd been more awake--then pulled the door shut behind him. In moments he had made it not only to the bathroom where his still rather damp clothes hung, but he pulled them mostly on, not bothering with trying to fully button up his shirt or buckle his belt. In seconds he was in the kitchen, his keys and coat in his hands the instant he spotted them. Turning, he found Natalie standing between him and the way to her front door. "Move." "It's day, Nick, and--" He had no time to argue, no will to stand there with her warm blood tempting him, and he started right at her, his eyes focused behind her, and pushed her off to the side with his arm so that he could leave. Not daring to give her a glance, Nick just pulled open the door, slipped out, and pulled it shut behind him. He didn't hear her follow him out, which was good; he didn't know where he was going right now beyond away. Reaching the ground floor he had to stop at the doors outside. Day was far from over, sunlight illuminating the whole entrance area...he couldn't see any shade from where he stood. He turned around and frantically looked for another exit, specifically one not bathed in light. He found just that, although once outside he felt himself panic even more. Getting away from Natalie didn't help his hunger much at all, and as a mortal came out the same door he had, he instinctively followed them for a few paces. Home. He had to head for home. Then he could have cow's blood to satiate the vampire, at least for a few short hours.... Elusive Gains - Nick - (16/26) Nick hadn't slept well at all once he had returned to his loft. His thoughts kept going back to being woken at Natalie's. Still he couldn't remember anything before he had nearly bitten her beyond a vague sense of her trying to stop him from going for her. As the sun had set he had already dressed for work, and he had flown to her building...to get his car. He had landed out of sight and then quickly walked to his car and drove off, hopefully unseen. Then he had driven aimlessly until his shift started. Seeing his least favourite co-worker fighting with a drawer on his own desk didn't help his night start off any better. He had barely sat down and tried to find something to do before he felt warm hands rest on his shoulders. It was too much, and he shrugged roughly out of the touch even though he knew who it had to be: Natalie. "Nick...." Again he felt hands on his shoulders, and again Nick pulled out of the far too comfortable touch. "Nick, I want to talk. Now, Nick." "I'm fine," he assured without turning to look at her. He'd be fine if he could just get back to work. Alone. "Maybe, but you weren't this morning." He shut his eyes, feeling angry at himself for what happened and that she was bringing it up. "There's nothing I can say to explain." "Yes there is, Nick. And you will." When Natalie touched his upper arm, tugging on his jacket, Nick jerked away. He really, really didn't want to talk right now. He noticed eyes were on them; Schanke's included. "Nick, come on." Then, when she walked off, deeper into the precinct, Nick reluctantly got up and followed. He'd rather have whatever conversation with Natalie than argue with Schanke; he just didn't want her trying to comfort him...it didn't help how he felt at all. Nick caught up to Natalie as she started into a conference room, and he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "What?" "Nick, you're--" She cut off and shook her head. Nick barely had a second before he felt a rather harsh grip yank his hand away from Natalie's arm, a stocky Schanke stepping between them. Nick forced himself not to react as he was pushed back into the wall of the hall. "I don't like the way you're treating Natalie." Nick just glared, not daring to respond either verbally or physically. He wasn't in the mood to be pushed around; as it was he could feel himself on the verge of changing once again. "Schanke, nothing's going on. I just want to talk with Nick for a moment, and I want to talk to him *alone*." "Nat, I don't know if--" "Schanke, please. Just let him go and walk away." Nick half-expected the other detective to hit him, or at least give him another shove into the wall, but nothing. "You do anything to her and you'll regret it, Knight." Even as he was released and Schanke walked off, Nick didn't move or feel even remotely relieved. "In, Nick," she told him, nodding toward the room she had been about to enter. Nick's eyes settled on Schanke, who was a short distance away and watching them like a hawk. Giving a glance to Natalie, he entered the room wanting away from the other detective's glare. Hearing the door shut, he asked, "Now what have I done wrong?" "Nothing, Nick. Nothing, but you keep thinking that no one understands you and you keep trying to do everything on your own, that's what! You're one lump of...of...nerves that doesn't know when to relax. I come here to ask if you're okay and if there's anything I can do, and you start back up with your 'I'm fine' crap accompanied by your edginess. And the others notice that, Nick. And if you don't learn to settle down and trust others you--" "So you're siding with Schanke now," he interrupted, not understanding why he was getting yelled at. "How did the topic get on him? Fine. If you must know, I'm siding no more with Schanke than I am with you. He has my safety in mind, just like you do. Unlike Schanke, my concern is not just for those around you, but for you as well." Nick looked away at that for a moment. She was concerned for him, even after he had nearly killed her. "That's right, Nick. I understand why you left, what I don't understand is why you didn't say anything and why you're now reacting like this. You could have said something more--" "Like what? Hmm? Like what? I should have told you to move because otherwise I might kill you? That otherwise I would?" "Yes, you could have said that. Better yet, you could have told me when you accepted to stay that you needed me to stay away. You could have told me to take me to your place, instead of mine, but you didn't even protest against it. You could have had me go to your place to get blood for you. You could have out-right refused to stay, telling me you needed--" "Could I have? Would you have listened, or would you have told me that I was exaggerating my needs, extrapolating my wants?" "Nick, I would have listened. You should know I would have if you'd only explained. But you won't let me understand." Nick looked away before her last sentence, both feeling bad but.... "You cannot understand." "I can try. And I think I understand a lot more than you think I either can or do. But you keep stepping back whenever you start inching forward. And you're doing it again, Nick. I thought you were doing better, I thought you were going to stop blocking me out, but maybe I'm wrong about that. And when you slip back you lose a lot of ground, Nick, and I'm not just talking about your blood intake." He understood and even agreed with the first--she did seem to be understanding this far better than he thought she did. But slipping on more than his blood intake? Right now he felt hungry; he had managed not to overdo it after getting home earlier that afternoon despite his burns, or at least not overly. He hadn't lost any ground. "What are you saying?" "That you need to settle down, Nick. You need to settle in to your life here. You've decided to stay in Toronto, and last night was a good start, but you can't just throw it away. You can't just--" "I haven't thrown it away," he protested. "And I don't plan to." "Then why are you fighting me on this? Why, Nick? I understand why you left. You don't have to explain that. I know you usually...eat after work. You didn't get to, and your body used up energy trying to warm you back up to normal. I expected you would be a bit hungrier than usual. What I didn't expect was for you to run off because of it. And then react like this." Yes, she understood him about as well as he did himself. Helplessly, he told her, "I could have killed you." Then, after glancing away, torn, he continued, "I *wanted* to kill you. I wanted to take every last drop of--" He cut off as she started toward him, enraged. He caught her arm as she went to hit him, just stopping her from making contact. "If you had wanted to kill me, I'd be long dead! Long dead, I'm sure of that. I'm fully aware of what happened this morning, Nick, and you had no wish to kill me. We both know that. Now stop lying to me." "I am not lying!" Nick hissed, trying to emphasise that he was telling the truth. Perhaps he had tested her too many times? Perhaps by trying to make her fear him all he had done was desensitise her? Or maybe she had tried to hit him to show that he wouldn't hurt her even if she tried to hurt him? "Then at least explain. Explain how you can both want to kill me and not." "I...can't." She tried to pull her arm away, but as Nick didn't want her to turn and leave he kept hold of her. He wanted to explain, but it just wouldn't make sense to her. "Try me. Just try, Nick. Please, Nick. Just try. I want to know, I want to understand this." He thought, but he wasn't sure she'd like his answer. It was one thing to describe wanting to kill a random person, but this was him wanting to kill her. "At that moment, I wanted to kill. When I woke, I needed blood. I went for what was closest, which was you, and at that moment I couldn't tell the difference between you and any other mortal, than any other source of blood. I didn't care where the blood came from, just that I got it and I got it quickly." "But you did. You stopped." "As I woke up fully, I realised it was you," he said, not wanting to tell her he didn't remember waking up in and of itself--just realising he had pinned her down and been about to feed from her, and knowing he wanted to stop. "But I still needed blood, and that need wasn't going to go away." He wished he could tell her his deeper thoughts--that he had indeed come to think of her as a friend, that he cared what happened to her--but instead he just released her arm, gently placing his hands on the sides of her face, and continued, "I had to leave. If I had gone back to sleep and you'd woken me up again, I very well could have hurt you, even killed you before I realised what I was doing. I didn't want that to happen." "But why didn't you say something? I understand why you left, but I don't understand why you put yourself in that position. As I said, if you had asked I would have gladly driven you back to your place, or gone and got blood for you, either from there or the morgue. Why didn't you say something, Nick? Anything." He let his hands drop away. He hadn't even thought of asking if she would get him blood from his place. He had been just enough out of it that asking her to take him home never would have happened, but after the shower, after the cold grip on his thoughts had melted away he could have had her drive by the loft and grab a few things. "Nick?" "That would have been...nice," he hesitantly admitted. "Where did you go, anyway?" "Home. It...took a while and by the time I got there I needed blood for far more than just the hunger. Even now I'm...hungry. Cow's blood is never quite enough for things like this. I have been good, though--I've kept to just the cow's blood." "If something like this happens again, I expect you to ask for something and not just force things along." Nick tried to manage a smile and told her, "I'll try to remember that." "Good." "You're not even a little put off by what happened this morning, are you?" "Am I supposed to be?" He tensed at her harsh tone. "Well, if it helps, I think I've learned that it's a very bad idea to wake a sleeping vampire." "It's...not necessarily a bad idea," Nick quickly and quietly answered, and he finally managed to smile. "Not always. It's when I'm hungry that you need to watch out." He watched her smile back at him. "Thank you, Natalie." "For what?" Nick had already started for the door, but he stopped, thinking. "For doing more reminding than lecturing." He paused, then hesitantly told her, "But more importantly, for understanding even though I wasn't giving you the chance to." She nodded at him. "And Nick...? I really do mean what I said about you needing to relax and settle in." "I know. I'll work on it." He looked away, pulling open the door for Natalie. It would be hard to settle here. What if he finally did and everything fell apart? Following Natalie out into the hall, Nick's eyes fell on Schanke who was hanging around the coffee carafe...and who then started toward them. Even as Natalie blocked the hall he started away; he somehow knew that staying was a bad idea. His fellow detective was a reminder of why he didn't want to settle in. A strong reminder. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Nick felt like his progress with Natalie, his job, and his latest incarnation were spiralling to a quick grave. A lot of it had to do with his least favourite co-worker, who just wouldn't leave him alone. They had had several short, tense conversations of some sort at shift change, and then, when he had really needed a case to focus on--and convinced Stonetree to give it to him--of course the detective that would have otherwise gotten it was Schanke. But it was another case or fall off his wobbling waggon; he preferred having the other even more annoyed with him than making Natalie intentionally upset. Not that he had really succeeded there, either, although she didn't know, yet. About a week after their night out, he had gotten a call from a small herbal shop he had visited after arriving in Toronto but before he had met Natalie. He had completely forgotten about it; that had been a good nine, ten months before, and he had figured if they were able to get what he wanted in it would have been then, not now. It was the leaves of what was thought to be a long-extinct plant. Some or something similar had been found growing in a different but nearby geographical area, and it was being cultivated for its anti-bacterial and other medicinal properties. It had cost him more than his and Natalie's night at the opera to actually obtain them, and he had been experimenting with an old recipe he had found during a stint as a museum curator. Having access to non-displayed items had been quite revealing; it was amazing what got filed away into store rooms whether it be in the late 18th or mid 20th century. Sometimes it was just items that were incomplete or being researched, but sometimes the items made no sense in their context like this recipe for fantastical night-demons or items that were simply inappropriate to display in public. The recipe required the leaves to be fresh, stems included, and that's what he now had. Just finding his notes had been difficult. He had filed it away with centuries old sheet music so it wouldn't be found by LaCroix; that had worked quite well all these decades. Surprisingly well. Then he had needed to translate it again, as he had copied it down in the original hieroglyphics. He hadn't wanted LaCroix to be able to read it and know for sure what it was, that it was an ingredient list and instructions. Even now he didn't dare copy it down in a more modern language. He memorised it and put it carefully back before he did anything else. He had then started to mess with the recipe, making up a small batch, which he then froze in an ice cube try to keep fresh and so he could gradually try it. Before, without the one missing ingredient, it had merely made him less hungry and feel weak, more like a mortal. The small swallows he had been testing of it now seemed to do the same. Natalie had noted his temperature seemed to be getting worse, but his pulse faster and more audible. She had described it as being 'almost recognisable for what it was'. He had hesitated before finally making the mixture up properly and following the instructions exactly; he couldn't drink blood with it, and he had to drink a large quantity at once. Which was problematic. It asked for essentially a whole bundle of garlic of all things. Through his fiddling he had completely emptied a little container of chopped up garlic--he hadn't wanted to chop it up himself. A little ingested with blood wasn't too bad, although far more painful than eating or drinking other mortal food, but to drink it all at once and without the blood? And then there was Natalie. Even as he had a large container full of the noxious mixture sitting, waiting on the table in front of where he sat, Nick's thoughts turned to her. He had considered showing it to her, telling her he was going to test it, but she had seemed so happy about his recent progress.... If it didn't work it'd be just another minor set-back. He'd eventually go on another binge, if it was like last time, and then he'd be fine again and at least one possible cure would be crossed off. But if it worked or showed promise.... Then he would tell her, show her, and Natalie perhaps wouldn't have to spend as much of her time running tests on him, doing research to try and help him. She spent so much time on him...or for him, batting away Schanke's and however many other's complaints about him. The last couple of weeks he had noticed a couple of others looking at him, including one of the crown prosecutors he hadn't yet worked directly with but passed often in the precinct. Schanke's doing, probably. If this worked the vampire would be gone and he'd be able to truly settle in to his life here. Completely. And no more major disappointments for Natalie. None. Even that alone would be worth it, but it would be so much more. No more disappointments as she could drag him anywhere...and he'd just smile as he let her. He had been trying, he really had, but he couldn't help but worry he would be forced out by LaCroix. The other seemed to have a sixth sense about him...LaCroix knew when he was up to no good or trying to escape him. Which he was, right now, and would continue if he stayed whether or not this worked. The more he thought about it, the longer he waited, the more likely the other might notice something and find him. He had to either try it now or forget about it. Nick stared at the goopy, green-ish yellow mixture. It was a little past noon, he had to be at work at six tonight, and he was supposed to go by the morgue at seven-thirty. He hadn't had anything after coming home from work, or before going to work the previous night as required. The glass was only a third of the total amount the recipe made up. All of it had to be drank within about a day. Or that was what the instructions said, at least from what he could tell. It was try this now or never, and Nick picked the large glass up and took a drink from it. The contents tasted wretched, even given he knew it had garlic in it. The liquid burned his mouth and throat as he swallowed it. It was painful even past that, however, his whole body rebelling at the unwelcome meal. Regardless of the pain, Nick forced more down. He had nearly drank half the glass when he felt horribly ill, stood with the vague idea of going to the kitchen sink, only to double over in sharp pain, falling to his knees next to the table. He hurt so much, the pain emanating down through his torso and then out. Even his fingers had begun to tingle in pain. Nick just sat there on the floor for some time, eyes closed as he leaned against the chair he had just been sitting in. He let the pain wash through him, and pleasantly it did mostly pass and just left him tired. He was left feeling rather queasy, but not much more than if he'd had water. And he didn't feel hungry; he would endure whatever pain he had if he never had to feel the want for blood again. By the time he checked the clock nearly an hour had passed, and there on the table sat the still half-full glass. He reached for it, his fingers falling short and just barely making it to the edge of the table. But he wanted, needed to try this, finish this, and he tried again, managing to grab hold of the base of the glass and slide it to the edge of the table. There he managed to actually pick it up. It felt so heavy in his hands, and he stared down into the sickening mixture a moment before drinking the rest. Again the foul mixture burned as he drank it, but the pain wasn't as sharp as that first time. Nick finished the remainder of the glass in one, long drought, then set the glass on the floor next to him as he waited for the worst of the nausea to pass. Before it did, blackness engulfed him as he passed out. Elusive Gains - Nick - (17/26) The previous twenty-four hours had been bad and worse for Nick. He woke on the floor half under his kitchen table several hours after drinking the first portion of the mixture and, he assumed, passing out. But, at that moment, he had felt fine. So good he planned on telling Natalie what he was trying at their meeting in a couple of hours. His mood was up and his hunger a thing of the past as he slowly got ready for work. It was slow because every movement hurt and seemed to take more effort, but after he had been awake a few minutes, walking around, things felt easier, his mood rising even higher. Then, once at work, Nick's high mood was dashed rather quickly. The hunger, the vampire was still there, and it rather liked the look of his co-workers' necks. Too much. He had changed a good half a dozen times before he had finally had it and had gone home sick. He returned to his loft without going by or even calling Natalie to tell her he wouldn't be by. His speech was slow as he had trouble focusing. She'd know something was up in an instant even if he called her and come by...he couldn't have that, not right now. She'd chastise him for his foolishness. Even worse he might actually kill her this time with how he felt. After arriving home, however, Nick had nearly changed his mind and gone by the morgue anyway and admitted what he had done to ask her for help; this time was different than the only other time he had tested this mixture. The one missing ingredient seemed to greatly soften the effect. But he also wanted to do the full test no matter the discomfort. It wouldn't kill him, he didn't think, and if it did...well, that would free them both, too, wouldn't it? As midnight approached, he drank a second glass of the concoction. He managed to drink it more or less all at once without pause this time, desperate for it to work. A large portion of it ended up in the sink half an hour later, and then come sunrise Nick woke to find himself having passed out in front of the sink once again, patches of sunlight streaming across the room and strange memories dancing in his mind...of Janette trying to talk him out of one of his attempts at finding a cure...he couldn't even place which one due to his jumbled thoughts. After a moment Nick had realised he felt, oddly, even tireder, but he also felt less queasy than with the first round. He had tried to stand, to get to the remote to shut the windows so he could sit elsewhere to wait for noon and the last batch, but he rather quickly ended up giving up and just sitting there to let his body rest. Every muscle hurt to move. As noon came around again, Nick forced himself up from the floor and to the refrigerator where he put the rest. Just looking at the final, cold glass he had felt ill and ached even more, but he pulled it out and took it to the table, where he painfully sat in front of it. If he hurt, it had to be a good thing, didn't it? Didn't mortals often have to deal with constant pain of some sort? Glaring bleary-eyed at the mixture, Nick kept telling himself it was the last one. If it didn't work, it didn't work. If it did...he was positive he'd recover. And he had then downed the last one with difficulty. This time it was harder to drink; he didn't want it, he didn't really want to drink much of anything at this point. He passed out again, then woke in even more pain. So much pain that his worry for disappointing Natalie once again made him leave the loft for her help. He first tried to leave before sunset, but failed. However weak he felt, the concoction hadn't made him even a touch more tolerant of sunlight. It had probably failed, he knew. Somehow Nick made it to the morgue; he had either walked or flown most of the distance, his car forgotten back at his loft. He slowed approaching autopsy; someone had just entered. He paused outside the doors, planning to turn around and wait out of sight for whoever it was to leave. Then, almost immediately, he was hit with another round of stabbing pain in his chest. It was this that had gotten him to seek help. It was hard to breathe and he kept doubling over in pain. If nothing else his hunger hadn't returned, although he feared it would upon entering the same room as a mortal. Worse, there were two mortals. Reluctantly Nick made his way in, and he heard Natalie's voice cut off as he entered and she saw him. The man who had entered was the crown prosecutor who had been glaring at him the last two or three weeks. "If he does *anything* to you, Natalie, I will see to it that he loses his job." Nick tried to ignore the threat, the first thing he had really heard of their argument, and moved slowly forward into the room. "Richie, don't. Nick, he's...." "What? What about him?" Nick tensed as Natalie gestured toward him, and the man turned and started toward him only for Natalie to block the man's progress. "Nick, this is my brother, Richard." Despite his pain, Natalie's words somewhat sunk in and distracted him. Brother? She had never mentioned a brother, let alone one who he would very possibly meet and work with at some point. "Have you two met?" Nick moved closer, to the autopsy table for something to lean on. "We've met in passing, but never actually spoken," he said in answer to her question as he reached the end of the table and walked to the other side so that the metal slab lay between him and the man. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes as more pain coursed through him. "Richie, I think--" "What are you playing at here?" Nick kept his eyes shut; he wished the other would go. He couldn't very well tell Natalie what happened with the other there. "You called in sick and certainly shouldn't be here, should you? You went home early last night, call in tonight, and then show up here. I think Schanke's dead on about you thinking you can get away with anything you want." The words barely registered to Nick, but he did hear the other's footsteps first move away and then closer. Then as a loud pounding emanated from nearby, Nick's eyes snapped open but he forced his attention to remain on the cool, smooth metal before him. "I'd like some questions answered." "Ah, Richie, I really think it would be better if--" Nick heard Natalie stop again as a hand roughly grabbed his arm. He shirked away as much as he could, but the other continued to hold onto him. "I want to know why you're doing this. Why does it have to be my sister that helps you? Tell me. Give me a decent explanation, and I'll drop it and tell Schanke to drop it as well." As the other tried to turn him, Nick finally jerked awkwardly away. He stumbled back and away from the table, forcing out quietly and with deliberateness, "I need to speak with Natalie." He felt dizzy and paused before adding, "Alone." "Nick?" At her voice right behind him, Nick turned and backed up, right into the other man. He stumbled again, his weakness overtaking him. With nothing to grip his legs gave out and he started to fall. He felt himself caught from one side from behind and saw Natalie rush forward as he crumpled to the floor up next to the table...the nice, stable, and cool to the touch autopsy table. He tried to repeat his need to talk to Natalie, but even he couldn't understand what he had managed to mutter. "Nick, tell me what's wrong." He focused, trying to zone in on Natalie and what he wanted to say, but it wasn't working well. He felt like he was about to pass out again. This time he worried--however much he wanted to no longer be a vampire--that he wouldn't wake up. "It hurts," he forced, his words barely a whisper. "Nick...where?" For a moment Nick just stared, his thoughts stubborn in becoming audible. "My chest." He didn't react as she put her hand over his heart, where the pain was. He couldn't, too distracted by her clear panic as she pulled her hand back and then touched his neck. It was taking all his concentration just to remain conscious and focused on Natalie. "I'm going to call an ambulance." "No." "What?" "No ambulance." And that was the last Nick heard before his world again went black. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Waking, Nick found himself at home in his bed. The first thing his mind locked onto was Natalie lying asleep right next to him. The second thing was how much pain he was still in. The pain at least seemed duller and more widespread, but his chest still ached. Nick lay there watching Natalie sleep for several minutes. While he didn't feel hungry he didn't feel it was either appropriate or safe for him to stay and so he carefully rolled away from her to the side of the bed. Slowly sitting up, he then made it to his feet. He still felt weak, and Nick half-expected he'd collapse right there onto the floor and pass out again. He was sure that's what had happened at the morgue; he had passed out. How Natalie had gotten him here he didn't know, but suspected it had something to do with the man that had been there...her brother. He only vaguely remembered their conversation, but he remembered enough. Making his way slowly across the space between his bed and the door, Nick relaxed as his hands wrapped around the sound support of the railing. Having something, anything to hold onto made him feel so much stronger, and he slowly made his way downstairs. Having no desire for blood, Nick then had to make his way across the open floor to somewhere to sit, which ended up being the couch. The shades over the windows were still open, the light glow of the moon being the only light coming in. It was night. It had been night when he had gone to the morgue, but by the clock it was only just barely eight o'clock... How long had he been unconscious? Sitting there, still dazed, Nick realised his shirt was undone and he slowly buttoned it back up, thinking. The last thing he remembered was passing out in the morgue, but other images, memories came to him as he tried to remember. They were so close, as if they had just happened, but...no, that had been a good century and a half ago. Janette trying to convince him not to proceed with a particular attempt to become mortal, to get him to return to her and LaCroix before LaCroix came for him and taught him yet another lesson about his so-called foolish quests. Janette...he felt like she had been there, been here with him somehow. This had been one of his worst experiences with becoming mortal, at least physically. Having been drugged with sedatives and poison had been better. Or having been essentially electrocuted. Never before had he blacked out for a day in all his attempts. And Natalie.... Nick turned his head slowly to glance up at his bedroom, where Natalie still slept. He could remember her concern and panic before he had blacked out, but what did she think now? Did she know what he had done? Was she still concerned and disappointed, or would she be upset with him? After all, he hadn't told her, nor had he been able to tell her when he had gone to her for help between his pain and that she hadn't been alone. He leaned back on the cushions and closed his eyes, wishing the pain would go away or at least dull some. He didn't know how much time passed before he heard movement from above and he pulled his head back up off the back of the couch. He heard her footsteps on the balcony, where she paused for a moment before rushing down the stairs. Seeing her concern, her worry, he looked away. "Nick, what happened? Please, I want to know what happened." He hesitated, and not wanting to have to explain everything he simply told her, "You have no need." "Yes, I do, Nick. I need to know that you trust me. If not enough to tell me what you were going to do, then to tell me what you did do." "I...shouldn't have gone to you." He tensed as she abruptly stepped closer, only to stop after a few steps. "Too right, Nick. But if you hadn't, I would have just found you here, wouldn't I have? And you better be glad I didn't find you here, Nick." Nick glanced up and over to her, knowing she was right. After he had missed their meeting she would have come over. But her tone...no, she wasn't concerned, she was angry. Angrier than he had ever seen her. "As it is, I'm not sure what to do." "And I'm not sure what really happened, okay? Last thing I remember is passing out in the morgue," he told her, wanting more time before discussing this. Looking slightly away, he told her, "I-I've been cutting back on the blood. You know that," knowing that while it was the truth it wasn't the full truth. She moved closer again, this time almost within his reach: She wasn't going to let this pass. Reluctantly he decided he might as well explain, might as well tell her, and started, "Natalie--" "Go screw yourself in hell, Nick. Oh, wait, you've already done that, haven't you?" He heard a strangled laugh of sort, and his hopes dashed further than even the failure of his experiment. "Just...do what you want. Maybe make up that concoction again, but this time maybe triple the garlic and add in some holy water for good measure. Maybe it'll kill you, which seems to be your goal. I'm not sure I care right now." "Natalie, please...." "No," she told him, shaking her head. "I'm not listening, Nick." When Natalie turned away to leave, Nick desperately reached out and grabbed her arm, trying to hold her in place. He failed, every movement causing pain, then he released Natalie just as the back of her fist impacted his face, and as he had leaned forward on the edge of the cushions he fell, slamming onto the floor and into the coffee table. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, his vision blurry. "You need time to think. A lot of time. Don't you dare try to talk to me until you've thought things through or I just might do something a lot worse." Nick didn't look up as Natalie grabbed her things and left via the stairs. Pain reverberated through the right side of his face and jaw, his thoughts momentarily crystal clear: He had screwed up. Possibly for the last time. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Nick had ended up not going in to work the next night, nor the following two. Too much pain and he felt too weak. He had also passed out again soon after Natalie had left, then woke startled by a dream...basically just those last few moments before she left replayed. He also hadn't been able to ingest anything. Even human blood wouldn't stay down. He wasn't hungry, but not being able to feed he suspected made it difficult if not impossible for his body to heal. He tried cutting the blood with first water, then wine, and even bought some vodka, thinking hundred and fifty proof alcohol might have a chance. It didn't. After nearly a week off, he had finally gone in to work more because questions would be asked the longer he was off. As it was, he had to make Stonetree think he had been medically cleared...apparently he had called in sick enough days in a row he needed a note. He couldn't get one, even from Natalie. After she had hit him every time Nick thought about her he quickly pushed her out of his mind. If nothing else was clear it was that she didn't want to talk to him...or him to her until he had given things some thought. The more he thought the more he wondered if he should even bother staying. He had seen Natalie in the precinct several times. Whenever he did, he avoided her gaze at best, or stood and slipped deeper into the precinct if she turned. He hadn't had any new cases, which was good. He didn't think he could handle trying to talk but not talk to her at a crime scene. It had been a week after he went back to work before his hunger finally returned, and then...then he had gone home without warning and polished off every drop of blood he had accessible. He had gone back to work nearly drunk on it, but at least his co-workers were safe. Mostly. Then, over a week had passed before he was able to return to a relatively steady, rationed amount of blood. Only then did he truly feel he was safe to those he worked with. At that point Nick had decided he might try talking to Natalie, but when he went by the morgue he found her office rather empty. At first he had feared she had quit because of him, to get away from him, but apparently she had just gone on vacation. Nick had then gone by her apartment only to find that empty as well. Even her cat wasn't there; not only was Natalie on vacation, but she had actually left. That didn't make Nick feel one bit better. She hadn't so much as left a note for him. He had made it three days after that before his pent up anger at himself blew up...right into Stonetree's face. He had been suspended for a few days from that. Going home, the first thing he did was start to pack. Again. But unlike his earlier attempts he couldn't actually manage to pack anything. Eventually he had sat down and planned, decided what to do. When she returned to work, he would ask to talk. And if she wouldn't...then he supposed he would have to make himself pack and leave. Elusive Gains - Nick - (18/26) Nick had miscalculated the day she came back from her vacation, only finding out after he saw Natalie in the precinct while he was working. He waited until he thought she might be home before calling her home phone. She hadn't picked up, however, and so he left a simple message, just saying, "Natalie, I would like to talk to you. Please call me so we can arrange a time to talk." Natalie didn't call him back. He called again the next morning, and then the next, more or less repeating his first message. When she still didn't call back, he left one on her work machine for when she went in. Then, desperate, he just asked her to "Please call," on her home machine. Nothing. At work they weren't really talking, either. That was mostly his fault--he felt if she didn't want to call him back, why would she want to talk to him in person? Even if it was work-related. That had made his newest case...well, interesting. He hadn't seen the body except at the crime scene before Natalie had arrived, and all he had was her report. She didn't leave any kind of note for him, not even a professional one...it was just the report. Their communication had been going through Stonetree, and Nick had the impression he knew something was up and wasn't too pleased at their lack of communication. Work, itself, was starting to feel unenjoyable. Nick had quite liked Natalie's periodic visits, even if it almost always had to do with work. She was the only person that didn't, in some way, have an issue with him. Now even she did, and he was left trying to ignore conversations about him. It was just giving him more reason to consider leaving. After his short plea, Nick had tried calling Natalie at home in the afternoon. This time she had picked up, but as he called her name, hoping she would reply, she didn't speak. He asked her to call so at least he could talk to her even if she didn't want to talk to him...but then she had hung up. He tried twice more to leave messages in the morning, but it seemed clear she wasn't going to answer him. If she wasn't going to talk to him, he supposed it was time to consider and plan on leaving, and his thoughts centred back on her notebook. Early the night after his latest attempt to call her--which he had decided would be the last--Nick went by the morgue and slipped into autopsy, which was empty and dark. Going to her desk he flipped on her desk lamp, sat, and checked the drawers. The unlocked ones were as usual. Then, he turned his attention to the two locked drawers and pulled something out of his pocket: Tools to pick the locks. He wasn't very good at this, but with a little bit of extra strength he would be in and out without any physical damage to the drawer...and that was his goal. Her notes might not even be in the drawer, and if she saw it was damaged she'd check sooner. For some reason he didn't want her to know he had taken it. He would just take it and leave, hand in his already filled out resignation, and then start to arrange for a move. After several failed tries, Nick smiled as he managed to get the lock to turn. In another moment the tools had been put back in a pocket and he was pulling out the drawer. On top was just files, but he could see black leather peeking out around the sides in the bottom of the drawer, and he moved the files and pulled out the notebook. He sat her notes on her desk as he closed the drawer--or mostly, as his eyes were on the notebook, his curiosity starting to get the best of him. Had she formally, in her notes, decided they were done? Or had she not gotten to that point? Nick wanted to know and he opened the book and flipped backwards through the pages until he found the last entry: "Communication failing due to distrust. Complete failure?" It was from a few days after she had left him, in pain and barely conscious, in the loft. That had been a bit over a month ago. The comment seemed to be open, more of a question. Why hadn't he just told her what he had done rather than try to avoid doing just that when he woke? She had commented on him not trusting her then, hadn't she? He had planned to tell her...but he hadn't managed it. And he knew why: Her frustration and disappointment were so much harder to see directed at him than her anger. The anger he deserved. The multiple chances she gave him he didn't, and he knew much of the disappointment was his own fault and not anything she had or hadn't done. Hearing movement outside the doors, familiar footsteps coming closer, Nick quickly flipped out the light and flipped the notebook shut, then he flew out of sight to the other side of the autopsy table, where he closed his eyes, waiting, hoping she wouldn't see him. Nick didn't leave until she left the room several minutes later. The notebook was no longer on her desk--back in the drawer from the sounds he had heard--and he left it both distracted by the entry and wanting out of the room unseen. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. While Nick hadn't called again as he had decided, he was somewhat bracing himself for going to talk to her in person. That also wasn't working. Either he'd get to her office early only to have to leave before she got there, or he would get to the doors and turn around. He had made it to opening the door once, but seeing her turned away he had still left. When it came down to it, talking to him had to be her choice. Natalie's, not his, and by going there in person it was forcing her to talk to him. She had to have the choice not to talk to him, not to spend one more moment thinking about him than necessary. Finally Nick settled on leaving her a simple note. He had used half a sheet of thick paper and folded it in half like a card. He had made up several versions, one of which ended up completely filled inside with a long apology. Eventually he had picked the simplest, shortest. All he had written inside was 'I'm sorry,' and then his alarm code. He didn't really need to tell her what the numbers were; the code hadn't changed since he had given it to her, and he knew she'd recognise that. On the back he had somewhat hesitantly asked her to 'Please come,' and then signed his name. He used his full mortal name, hoping between that and the unchanged code she'd see that he did trust her and she would come. As she slipped out of autopsy for lunch, Nick snuck in with the note and a daisy. He twirled the last somewhat nervously; it was a last minute thought, bought on the way over from the precinct. He had considered getting something flashier, but he wanted it to be like the note. He put both on the autopsy table, the top of the flower facing the door, but the note seemed rather empty on the front. He pulled out the pen he usually used to take notes if he needed to, slid the flower off to the side, and hunched over his note. He nearly wrote her name, but instead he did a quick, rough drawing of the daisy with long, fluid strokes. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than the plain but thick paper. Then, hesitantly, Nick replaced the real daisy on top of the note and left. If she didn't come to talk within the next week, that would be his answer and he would leave. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. As Nick's night off arrived two nights later, he started to worry. Natalie hadn't come over in the morning, when he had most expected her. Maybe she wouldn't this time. He kept pacing, and he had even gone on a small binge earlier that day after he had gotten home from work. Pacing was the only thing that stopped him from going by either the morgue or her apartment. He wanted her to only come if she wanted to, and he would give her that chance. No more calls and no more notes, and certainly no forced conversations. On his way to the refrigerator Nick paused; a car door had just shut nearby. He stopped himself with his hand on the door and just listened. A couple minutes later he heard someone come in and then get in the elevator. It had to be Natalie. She was the only person who had the alarm code other than himself. Realising he was smiling, hopeful, Nick forced his good thoughts away. She could just be coming to listen, or maybe say she had come to say she wouldn't be helping him and to stop trying to talk to her. Thinking about that, Nick walked the few steps to his kitchen table and sat in the chair furthest from the elevator door at a short side of the table. Some distance would be good...for both of them. And if she would sit to talk perhaps that would be a sign she would listen? Nick shoved away any hint of hope as the elevator ground to a halt and, after a moment, Natalie entered. At first, he looked right at her, then to the table where he nodded to the chair across from him. "Nick, I--" "Please, sit," he simply, coldly told her. He tried to settle back in his own chair as she sat, then told her, "Before you say anything, I want to make it clear that if we continue, it will be your choice. You have no obligation to help me, you never have, and I want it to be clear that you have no obligation in the future." "And if I decide not to help you? If I decide against helping you find a cure, what then?" Nick fought the urge to stiffen, but he knew that was a possibility and continued calmly, "Then we will not speak of what I am ever again, nor will you see me ever again. I'll be gone from this city and your life. Completely." "And?" "And what?" He thought he had been clear and spelt it out, "We will either resume our work, or cease it." "What would you like me to do? What would you prefer?" "What would I prefer?" he asked incredulously, then shook his head. "What I want is irrelevant." "No, it isn't. If you don't want to continue, I don't want to push you." "If I hadn't wanted to continue, I would not have asked you here. I would have left the city by now," he told her harshly. "Then why did you wait so long before trying to talk to me?" Nick looked away. True, he had taken nearly three weeks to try to talk to her, then nearly another three weeks after that before he called, but she had told him to take his time...a lot of time. A month, month and a half wasn't that long to him. "Nick, tell me." "I...had come to the morgue to speak with you the first night of your vacation," he reluctantly admitted as he met her gaze again, not sure she knew about that. She still seemed angry, mad at him. "You weren't there. When I found you were gone on vacation, I wasn't sure what to think. I thought that perhaps I had already waited too long." "Perhaps you had." Nick again averted his gaze. Yes, perhaps he had. He had the horrible feeling this was all for nothing, but at least she was still there. "And why did you wait as long as you did before calling? You had plenty of time before that." "It was several days before I had recovered even partially. There was more pain as the effects slowly wore off and I couldn't ingest anything. Not blood, nor water, alcohol...anything. I went to work even though I shouldn't have. The hunger didn't return for over a week...the night I came to the morgue was the first time I felt a bit more normal. I had finally been able to feed, and I felt a little stronger. I didn't want to risk it before then in case..." He trailed off a moment, but could see her waiting, so finished, "In case things didn't go well." "And?" "And I'm sure you know what happened shortly after that--I was put on suspension. The hunger returned with such a force I couldn't focus." "And the last time we spoke? When I asked you what had happened?" Nick flashed on what he remembered--mostly the sharp sting of her hand as she had hit him after he had tried to stall answering, explaining, and tried to physically keep her from leaving. "I shouldn't have lied. I was afraid that even if I told you, you'd be angry." He paused, his own words sounding pointless. She had been angry regardless. "You knew what I had done, didn't you?" "I saw what was on the counter." Nick nodded again at that. Of course she had seen. He hadn't put what remained of the ingredients away after he had made it...he had been too focused on wanting to try it, test it. "Can I ask what it was?" He looked into her eyes, trying to decide what to tell her. Did he tell her where he had found the recipe? Did he even tell her it was a cure, or.... "Nick...." "It--" He looked away, then relented, "It was what I thought was a legitimate cure. It seemed like it could be. And I had tried it in the past, many years ago. But then, I had been short an ingredient. Then it had seemed to work, but didn't. I had hoped that with all the proper ingredients, it would work. I thought it would be safe. One ingredient less, and all it did was weaken me, make me a little more mortal. I didn't feed for days, couldn't...and then I killed several on the rebound from its effects. That's why I didn't say anything before trying it. I didn't want you around if or when the hunger returned." "And this time? What happened this time?" "It was close. I felt it trying to change me, I felt...." Nick closed his eyes. While he had felt so much worse, he also felt more mortal, or at least less like a vampire. He had thought it might have done something at first; it was only later that he realised it wasn't much more than garlic-water. "I thought it would work, that perhaps it was working. I hadn't planned to tell you because I didn't want you to worry. And I didn't think it would get as bad as it did. I was weak, and in far more discomfort than before. There was far more pain. I should have come to you as soon as I realised it was worse, different, but I waited. And then...I didn't want to hear your reaction when you found out." He stopped again, but knew he had to tell her his reasons. "I really, truly, thought that if it did work, it would ease your search. I know things have been...hard for you since I showed up. And I know I am and have been the source of it." "Nick, I--" "No, let me finish. Let me...what I did, why I did it...it's hard to explain." Getting a nod, he told her, "Please know that I did not intend to betray you in any way. But I had to try it. It was an urge just as powerful as a vampire's instinct to drink blood, to kill for blood. I wasn't thinking straight, and I didn't have much time if some of the ingredients were to remain fresh. I had no choice but to try it right then if I wished to try it at all, and the urge.... I truly thought that it would work, or if it didn't, that it would be like before. I was also afraid to go to you as I didn't know what was happening, because it was different. I didn't know if I would be in control or not. But in the end, even though I knew you would be angered by this, I knew I could go to you. I might not show it, but I do trust you. I trust you more than most others." He waited, expecting her to say something, but she didn't. Maybe she needed time, or maybe nothing he said mattered; perhaps he had lied or held back too many times? "Natalie, if you need time, you can come back later. I just want you to know I'm serious in wanting to do this. I wanted to explain. Take however long you want or need to decide what to do with it." "I don't need time, Nick. I've had plenty of time to think about this." She had closed her eyes and he couldn't read her. Cautiously he prodded, "Then you've decided?" "Yes." Nick both tensed and sat up a bit more, his hopefulness returning. "Nick, I'll work with you, but you have to do what I tell you to." This was more or less what she had said before and some of his hope faded. "Is there more?" "Mainly that if you screw up like this again soon, you will regret it. I'm not going to let you endanger your life like you did when I'm trying to help you." He tensed at this, his eyes changing for a moment; it was his say whether or not to endanger his life, and he had gone to her when he thought he might have gone too far. "I'm serious, Nick." Nick forced the touch of anger away; fear that he wouldn't be able to live up to her condition. "I don't want to drop it. I won't. I can't. And I can't guarantee--" "I know you can't." Nick stood and moved the few feet to the kitchen counter, where he turned away from Natalie. "I-I'm not saying I understand it all, but knowing you do keep trying, that you do want this with or without my help.... It helps me be willing to do this. But you have to start trusting me. More than what you have been. That's a requirement, Nick." He would do anything to continue. Anything but expose either her or him to further danger, but he could do better. He could tell her more. "Nick?" "Would you like some...coffee or something?" he abruptly asked, spinning quickly and nervously around since she hadn't stood and didn't seem ready to bolt. "Uh...sure, I guess, if you have some." Nick turned back and pulled out supplies--including a coffee maker he had stashed away. He had gotten it after she had come over the second time, to remove the shard of glass, but never got to offer her some as the next time she had been there was the last...when she had hit him out of rage at his continuing holding back. In minutes he had some brewing--he had learnt how to do this decades ago from working among mortals. After a couple of times being chastised for taking the last cup--usually to fake his way through as a mortal--he had learnt rather quickly to always make sure more was coming. He stayed facing away from her as it worked, heating the water then drizzling out a transparent brown. He pulled out a mug and filled it nearly full, at which he poured a little container of creamer he had stolen from the precinct into it as he knew she didn't take it straight. After putting the mug in front of Natalie, he returned to his chair. "You can drink something, I don't mind." "No, I'm fine." He watched her take a tiny sip from the mug, but couldn't tell her reaction beyond that it was hot. Then, cautiously, he questioned her, "Your brother. What did you tell him? I remember him there...I'm sure you had to tell him something." "I told him that you were pushing yourself too hard and that you passed out from dehydration." "And his reaction?" "He believed it, if that's what you're asking." "No, I mean.... Natalie, I do remember a little of what he was saying to me. Schanke had apparently talked to him. What of that?" "I did some explaining." Nick didn't much like the sound of that. "Lying?" "Some. I couldn't very well tell him what you are. Nor could I tell him you'd essentially drunk a concoction that as far as either of us knew could have killed you. I don't think that would have gone over well, either." Nick didn't relax. He was far more curious what she had told him in general, not how she had explained away him collapsing. "And?" "And what?" "And is he still of the mindset of trying to ruin me?" "No. No, he believed what I told him. It seemed to be more than enough of an explanation. And, really, he was more concerned for me than wanting to ruin you. I was the one that mentioned that as a possible motive, not him. And he hasn't said anything more about what happened...other than that he'd like to meet you and apologise." The last threw off Nick's thoughts completely. "What?" "He'd like to meet you and--" "No, I mean why?" he clarified. "Because you're my friend and he feels he was too harsh. And I told him I'd see if I could get you to come over to his place. You will, won't you?" "But, I can't," he protested on reflex, not seeing how he could go over for what he suspected would be dinner or the like. When Natalie set the coffee mug down rather abruptly, he knew he had been too hasty. "Why not?" "Because going over...Natalie, I can't exactly go over for dinner. He'd notice something." "I know. I'll make sure it's not for dinner. I'll make sure that at most it's just to talk, to visit." "Then...perhaps," he said, relaxing a little. "Good." Nick caught a smile before she took a sip of the coffee. Nick's thoughts, however, hadn't strayed far. "You and your brother...you seem close." "I suppose you could say that. Why?" "Just a curiosity, you could say." "A curiosity? I thought personal topics were off-limits. And I thought that included both you knowing more about me and me knowing about you." Nick smiled a little at her reminder. "I think perhaps it might be good to get rid of that rule." "Then you can start by telling me something about yourself." "Nat, not that again...." he weakly protested, seeing her grin. "Come on. Just one thing." "Anything?" "Anything." "Like...what?" he asked, truly at a loss as to what to say something about. "Like, ah..." Nick watched her scan his apartment, her eyes falling on the baby grand. "Tell me why you have a piano." "I play." "Yes, but tell me a bit more behind that. I know pianos didn't exist when you were mortal. I'm curious how you came to play it." Nick thought a moment before vaguely answering, "Immortality is very long, and hobbies are sometimes useful. I started primarily because it was a good way to pass the time." "Come on, there's more. I know there is. How did you learn?" He took in a deeper breath, actually trying to think a bit. "I had to learn from mortals, of course, as it was a relatively new instrument. I'll never play like them, though. A vampire can never portray the music with as much depth as a mortal. But, I supposed it interested me. I didn't truly want to learn at first, but I liked the music, and, as I said, it was a way to pass time." "Were you, ah, encouraged by someone?" Nick looked at her suspiciously; he had messed up slightly, told her more than intended. "I'm just curious, it just sounded like it, perhaps, wasn't entirely your choice?" "Something like that, but I don't think I'd call it encouragement," he again went to a vague answer. It had been LaCroix' idea. Just thinking about the other made him tense and his thoughts turn darker. "So, any other hobbies?" "A few." "Like?" "I thought you said one question..." Nick playfully whined, hoping his non-serious tone wouldn't get him into more trouble. "This is turning into an interview." "Yes, well, you haven't been very forthcoming, you have to admit. And I'm still on the topic of your hobbies. So, what else do you do in your spare time? Hmm?" "Painting," he rather quickly said. It had gotten him through some days when he and Natalie hadn't been working. Seeing her look around, he quickly told her, "It's not in here." He had set that up in the adjacent storage area; it had been, literally, the last thing he had unpacked and he had done that reluctantly. "I'd like to see your paintings some time. Perhaps somewhere in here? You have plenty of space." While not quite sure he wanted her to see his rather eclectic self-done works, he told her, "Maybe. I'll...consider it." "I take it that it's a bit like the piano, then?" "Now, yes." "But?" "But I initially got into it for very different reasons. Very, very different reasons," he said somewhat reluctantly. That he had actually wanted to learn, and it had some bonuses...not the kind Natalie would necessarily think appropriate, though. He wasn't proud of some things he'd done in relation to starting that hobby. It was tainted. "Any others?" "Nothing really. Just the past, history. I'm not sure I'd call it a hobby. It's more like a side effect of living through the centuries." "Do others of your kind have an affinity for history? For the past?" Nick stiffened. The answer, he knew, was generally yes, but if he answered she would only probe more, perhaps ask about these specific others...which meant LaCroix and Janette. He would share with her, but not about this, not if he wanted to keep her as safe as possible from LaCroix. "Nick, I--" "We will not speak of others of my kind." "Nick--" "We will not speak of them!" he then nearly snarled, his fangs descending as she pressed the topic, eyes surely aglow in the dim lighting. He regretted his reaction as she startled, standing and moving away, jarring her chair noisily as she did so, and Nick looked away as he regained control. "Nick?" "I'm sorry. Personal questions are one thing, but questions specifically about others of my kind, however indirect they might be, will not be answered. I think perhaps we should continue this another time." He watched her nod, but she still seemed nervous. "And Natalie? I really do want to continue this later. And...tell your brother that I accept his invitation." He stood and went to the counter, his fingers brushing against the sheet of paper he'd been writing his food diary on. "I kept a record of what I drank and when. The...whole time since then," he explained, picking the piece of paper up and turning back toward Natalie, who looked like she had planned to leave. "I don't know if you want it or not." "Will I like it?" "No," he said with a quick glance away. "No, you won't like it. I mean, the last week isn't bad, but not all of it." "Then keep it. It's probably better the less I know about how far you slipped, isn't it?" "Probably." "Then I'd like you to work on cutting back again. Slowly. Don't force it, just start where you're at, got that? And remember what I told you. I meant it, Nick." "And I meant what I said, too. Including that I would like to continue our conversation. Just...please don't ask about the others again. Not about specifics." "Can I ask something about that? Something small?" "You can ask, but I can't guarantee I'll answer." "These others...." Nick tensed, unsure whether her question would set him off again. "I take it you are, ah, close to some of these others?" "I have been. A couple, yes," he carefully told her, trying to keep the answer as vague as possible. "Is that--" "I won't say any more on this. I'm sorry, but I won't," he evenly told her, at which she rather quickly nodded. She seemed to have expected it and started for the elevator again, and Nick just followed her. "I'll see you later, then?" "Yes, later," he said with a nod, and she gave him a smile just before disappearing into the elevator. He only mildly looked forward to being properly introduced to her brother, and he hoped she wouldn't ask about other vampires again. Elusive Gains - Nick - (19/26) Visiting with her brother had come far too soon for Nick's taste. Not even a week later he had driven them to her brother's home. They had barely been able to talk again to continue their conversation since she had taken him up on his offer to come by and let him explain. Natalie had tried to pry more information out of him on the drive over, but he had assured her visiting with her brother would satisfy her curiosity. He was certain the other would ask him questions, and it would be much more difficult to not answer him than Natalie. Richard Lambert was married and had a young daughter--probably seven or so from what he could gather--who had already gone to bed, her mother following soon after he arrived. Nick quickly discovered Richard was Natalie's junior by a little over a year, and he relaxed immensely when he rather quickly managed to turn their topic of conversation to some of their cases and off of himself. Natalie had said surprisingly little; he had expected she'd probably keep the topic of conversation right on him. And then there was a break in conversation. He had managed to empty his glass, and Richard had noticed. He had politely allowed a refill, although felt a bit nervous as Richard looked over at Natalie. "So, Nick, Natalie hasn't told me much about you. Mentioned you were from Chicago?" "Yeah, I suppose you could say that." "Born in Chicago?" "Yeah," Nick confirmed and took a sip from his glass, stalling. "What about you? Natalie hasn't mentioned whether she's from Toronto or not." "Yeah, we're Toronto natives. I'm surprised Natalie didn't say anything." "I had asked her to keep our relationship entirely professional. I didn't want to impose on her life." "I'm surprised you came, then. I am, after all, Natalie's family, and family usually doesn't contribute to a professional--" "You know Natalie is my doctor, correct?" "She mentioned something along those lines." "Let's just say the purely professional distance wasn't working too well." "My question is, why Natalie? You didn't seem to know each other previously, and it's somewhat odd, really, I mean, Natalie never even mentioned you to me. How did you two end up meeting?" "I met Nick through a mutual acquaintance. Someone I went to medical school with asked me if I was still in Toronto, said that if I was, they might have a patient for me--" "And I was the patient," Nick quickly added, with an odd smile. "Nick's medical history is a bit complicated, and not all that interesting, actually." Nick tensed a little at Natale's tone, taking a large mouthful of his glass of scotch. "You have any family around here, Nick?" Nick's tenseness didn't fade; these were the types of questions he hadn't looked forward to in the slightest. "Nick?" Natalie prodded him. "Ah, not around here. Not anymore," he said vaguely. "Are they back in Chicago?" "No, I don't have any living family." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--" "It's been some time," Nick said, cutting Richard off. "I don't mind discussing it." "What happened?" Nick uncomfortably shifted; he had no idea what he was supposed to say beyond make something up. "I don't think Nick meant he didn't mind asking what happened," Natalie suggested. "You never mentioned if you had any brothers or sisters." Nick relaxed a little at having something to latch onto. "I had a sister. A younger sister," he said and took a sip from his glass. And then another rather large swallow, which completely emptied his glass. The nausea helped dispel some of the not-so-happy memories regarding his family, his mortal family. "Nick, is something wrong?" "No, nothing's wrong," he quickly said in reply to Natalie's concern. He thought a moment, then more or less went with the truth, telling them, "She became ill, but there wasn't anything I could do. She didn't recover. Her name was Fleur." "That's a pretty name." He smiled at Natalie's comment. "Yes. According to my mother, I was the one that named her. I don't actually remember it, though. I...don't have very many memories from when I was a child," he added, mostly in the hopes that less questions would be asked. In truth, he didn't have many memories from then; only strong memories, many negative, had survived so that he could recall them without difficulty. He pushed his thoughts away and asked their host, "You and Natalie seem close," as he reached forward for the bottle of scotch, refilling his glass. "We...lost our parents when we were younger." Nick froze at that. His parents had at least died of more or less natural causes...he had been an adult before either of them passed. "It's fine, Nick." "Our grandmother raised us until Natalie turned eighteen. Then we left and, well, that was just about the end of that." "Very much the end of that." At the rather blunt statement, Nick turned to look at Natalie. She looked very uncomfortable. Maybe she had some of her own demons.... "I'm okay. Really." Nick then watched her turn to her brother. Yes, there was something more there. "Did you know Nick plays the piano? He hasn't let me hear him yet, though." "He hasn't?" "No, he hasn't." "It's just a hobby," Nick protested. He was mediocre, average at best that he was aware, but Natalie still smiled at him. "And I'll bet that it's a well-honed hobby. Isn't that right?" Nick couldn't say anything to that. It was as well-honed as he could get it. "Nick's got quite a few hobbies, actually." "Really?" Richard asked. "You collect coins by any chance?" "Uh, well..." Nick stalled. He did have some, but they weren't exactly the type of collectibles his questioner was asking about...leftover, unspent change from the past, mostly. Very random. But coins were a much safer topic than his past. "Natalie got me one. I have a few others, but not a lot. Fairly random. It's more of a...curiosity than a hobby." "Well then, I have some you might be interested in seeing. I'll be right back." Nick smiled a little as the other left, genuinely curious as to what the other would bring back. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. "About your sister, is what you said true?" Nick's hands tensed on the steering wheel as he drove toward Natalie's apartment, and he glanced at her. "What do you mean?" "Well, for one, did you really have a sister?" "Yes, I did." "You said she died young. Do you mean young, as a child?" "No," he told her, his memories of the last time he saw her flitting into his present thoughts. He had only seen her that once relatively grown up...the rest of his memories she had been a young girl. "No, she didn't die as a child. It was after I had become a vampire, nearly twenty years later. She was in her late thirties. Still young to die." "Did you have any other brothers or sisters?" "Yes," he said somewhat hesitantly. His other siblings had either died as infants or one had died at six years old of an infection--the boy had been younger than Fleur. It had just been him and Fleur, really, when it came down to it. She was the only one he had been close to, the only one he really remembered. "And?" "And I honestly didn't spend much time with most of them. Even Fleur...she had been very young when I had left. And with what happened to me.... I never really, truly, got to return home." "What do you mean, with--" "Becoming a vampire." "Did you have other family? A wife, or--" "No. No, I never married as a mortal," his attention drifted off at that. Natalie's questions were just a reminder of how much he had lost by becoming a vampire. Not particularly wanting to be asked more questions about his past, what he had or hadn't had, he asked, "How did I do?" "Good," she told him with a smile. "What's next?" "Just keep your blood intake in check and I'll think of something, okay?" Nick blanked out a bit at that. She'd 'think of something'? "Don't worry, it'll be fun, I hope. And fun isn't out of the question, is it?" "No, it's not out of the question," he carefully replied. It depended on the type of fun. "Let's just take it slowly...I don't think I'll be dragged out to play games at an arcade or anything. Not if you want me to keep things going smoothly, at least." Before he turned back to focus solely on the road, he thought he got a nod. Or at least that's what he hoped it had been...a nod of agreement...and that she wasn't planning on dragging him somewhere too overly public. Elusive Gains - Nick - (20/26) Natalie's idea of fun had been to leave a note with a task on his desk one day for him to find upon going into work. He hadn't done it yet. He didn't think she'd be too upset; he had just found it that morning as he left for home, and along with the task was asking him if they could meet the next week at his place--tonight was their decided, semi-official meeting for this week. He hadn't even gone into work quite yet, although he would once he left Natalie's work. Entering autopsy, Nick caught a glance, then he waved her note in front of him. "I don't get it." "What's not to get? It's pretty straight forward, isn't it?" "'Go to a toy store and buy any one item,'" Nick read off the first, main part of her note. "Nick.... Put it this way, buy something resembling a toy, and--" Nick smiled. He was going to have fun with this since she was having so much trouble explaining. "What are you smiling at? And don't you dare start laughing...." "I take it you mean a children's toy store?" he asked; this was his main question, that, and just what he considered would qualify. "What else--" Then, before he knew it, Nick winced as she gave his arm a rough but playful whack. "Don't you even say it, Nick. But yeah, okay, you got me. I should have been more specific. Buy something that you might find in a child's room, okay? I'm leaving it at that. Ignore what is on the note." Nick just smiled, watching her as she turned, seemingly embarrassed. "Nick, you--" She abruptly stiffened and changed subjects as the door opened, "Ah, maybe prep for your blood sample while I talk to Schanke, okay?" Her words were a whisper, and Nick looked behind him: Indeed it was Schanke. Nick stiffened a little, but he did as asked, slowly taking off his jacket as he vaguely listened in to their conversation. "What do you need, Schank?" "Autopsy results for Jacob Parks." "You mean Jacob's parts?" "Very funny, Nat, very funny...just don't tell me I got to see the body again or anything, okay? I'd rather not." "No problem, and...." Nick pulled back a little as she darted past him to her desk, where she grabbed a report, then returned, handing it to Schanke. "Mr. Jacob Parks." Nick felt rather uncomfortable with Natalie continually glancing at him. Soon, Schanke did, too, although he quickly looked away. "So, what's he doing here?" with another nod at Nick. "Just a check-up. One of those pretty much pointless things, really." Nick looked away; her check-ups weren't pointless at all. "And I had asked you to prep for your blood sample, Nick." "Blood sample? You mean one of those things to check if anything's wrong? What, is he on something?" "Schanke...." "Yes, Natalie's treating me with something," Nick interrupted as he undid the cuff of his shirt sleeve, but he didn't roll it up; he wanted the other gone first. "Well, have fun stickin' him, Natalie. And let me know if you find anything else that might come in useful." Nick waited until the door had swung shut and the detective's footsteps were rapidly fading before he asked, "Do you really have to take another sample?" "Yes. I want to make sure you're doing as you say." "But I am, and I will. You know that." He watched her pull out a vial and other needed items without comment. "You don't trust me?" "Nick, I've tried not taking blood samples before. It didn't work, though, did it? You ended up just fudging on your food diary. I might consider trying again, but not at the moment. Now, roll up your sleeve so you can get back to work, okay?" Nick somewhat reluctantly rolled up the sleeve of his shirt so that she could swab his arm, and then she rather solemnly took the sample, not talking as the vial slowly filled. "When will you be by?" he tentatively asked, figuring it would be better if he didn't argue or suggest it was a bad idea. "How about a week from tonight, not long after sunrise? That way I can maybe get your blood sample then?" Nick just nodded; a week from that night would be fine. "And before you go, remember about your homework." "Do I really have to do that part? You know, actually go to a toy store?" "Well, it might be good for you. If you ever do become mortal, who knows, you might get to go in one sometime." Nick unconsciously pulled back a little, his eyes drifting away. He wasn't sure what he thought of that; he generally liked kids, but... "Nick, come on...get an etch-a-sketch or rubric cube or something. I mean, those things aren't entirely limited to children. You do know what those things are, right?" Ignoring her suggestions, he asked, "So, anything that might be found in a child's room?" already thinking of his different options. "That's right. Buy something that you think is interesting, okay?" "And...no blood sample?" he asked hopefully. "Nick...." "Right. Blood sample." He gave her a half-smile, and he slipped out, jacket in his hand. She wanted him to find something a child might like, might have in their room, and was interesting.... Nick couldn't help but think that would end up being harder than it sounded. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. In the evenings before work Nick tried to do as asked. Tonight he was making his fourth attempt and he had just been asked, "Is there anything I can help you with?" for the two-dozenth time that night. Maybe Natalie's task was about control, not finding something that brought out some not-so-serious thoughts as he had expected. He picked up and poked all sorts of what were modern children's toys, including the two Natalie mentioned. They didn't really fit 'interesting' to him, though, and she'd probably call him on cheating if he brought one of those. Nick kept looking at the electronic games, but he doubted that would tell Natalie anything new about him. She had surely seen he didn't shun technology, and while it fit...again, he kept looking, poking plush animals, remote control cars, and board games. He had a feeling she wanted him to get a game of some sort from her mentions of something 'fun' and her original note. But he had never played most mortal games, unless chess or checkers counted--which he suspected did--and he didn't want to default to those, either. Brushing off yet another offer of help, Nick spotted something interesting hanging on the end of an aisle. Light greenish-white plastic stars in a bag. He pulled it off the peg to look at it closer--they supposedly glowed in the dark--then he put it back before resuming his roaming search. Half an hour later, Nick walked back to the plastic stars and stared at them again for several minutes. This was the only thing he had prodded other than the video games that didn't flit from his mind as fast as he saw it. Ten minutes later he walked out of the store, all four bags of the glow in the dark stars that had been on display now in a bag. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. As his and Natalie's next appointed meeting approached, Nick put up the stars on the ceiling and a few on the upper walls of his loft. He had tested it during the day, wanting to make sure he could get enough light to them so that they would show up for Natalie. They did, and he had smiled at that. He did worry a bit that it wouldn't be what she expected, but it did fit the general guidelines she had given, and when sunrise arrived on the morning she was actually scheduled to come by he opened all the windows and turned on just about every light. It made his home far brighter than he or his eyes preferred, but he left it that way as he waited. She hadn't used the alarm code to come right on up as he had somewhat expected, and after he had let her in Nick started back more into his home, stopping near the piano. When Natalie came in, he could see her surprise a little...and she seemed to look around for his bought item as she approached him. "Nick, you didn't go to a toy store, did you?" "What's the point?" he said a bit more harshly than playfully as he had intended. "Nick...the point was, as I said, to essentially broaden your exposure to the mortal world. You weren't supposed to get a stuffed animal or something like that...and there's lots of 'toys' in stores that are just as interesting to adults." "I didn't get a toy or a game, exactly, but--" "But what?" He suppressed a flinch as she crossed her arms; but she couldn't see what he had gotten quite yet. Or what he had done with it. "I got something that would, I think, be found in a child's room," he slowly and deliberately said, trying to keep a smile hidden. "I think you'll like it." "And? I don't see it." Nick's smile broke through a bit, and he shifted the remote in his hand, which she eyed. "What are you up to?" "You'll see," is all he said, then he flipped off the artificial lighting, careful to avoid the strips of sunlight. Then, starting back toward where Natalie stood, he started the shutters down on the windows, darkening the room to near blackness. He watched Natalie's attention shift to the ceiling, her lips parting slightly in surprise as she spun a little to look at the whole room. "Is this something like what you had in mind? I'll probably take them down, but...." "God, Nick, how did you get the things up there? And...geez, is that a constellation?" "And?" "And?" she asked, now looking at Nick. "Not quite what I expected, but yeah, it works. Next time I think I'll pick something a bit more specific, though. I am a bit curious how you got the idea for this, though...." Leaving the windows shut tight, Nick turned the lights back on. Somewhat hesitantly, he told her, "I couldn't pick." "You couldn't pick? What do you mean, you couldn't 'pick'?" "Well, I wasn't sure what would work best. I figured you were trying to get me to get a game?" "That's right." "Well, I couldn't pick. I didn't want anything I might have an advantage at. So I just kind of...wandered around. For quite a while. I think the clerk thought I was a bit odd." Nick wasn't about to tell her he went to multiple stores...and it wasn't just one clerk. He was pleased that she didn't seem too upset. "Well, okay, so what made you get the stars?" "What do you mean?" "Well, I figured whatever you got, I'd ask why. So, why the stars? Why not default to one of the things I mentioned?" "I don't know, really." "Aw, come on, Nick. You do have some idea, don't you? I know you do." "I suppose you could say that stars in general bring back memories. I've spent a lot of time looking at the night sky. A lot of time, even when I was still mortal." Nick tried to smile, but it was forced. "I was just looking, trying to pick, and I figured it would be interesting. You did say I was supposed to pick something interesting?" "I did, didn't I? And I have no idea how you got the things up there." Now Nick grinned. "What?" "You should know." "No, Nick, I don't. The ceiling is...well, it's quite a ways up. Come on, Nick." "I flew." "Flew?" He kind of nodded, even as comprehension seemed to be dawning behind Natalie's eyes. "Wait, you mean you can fly, I mean, really fly? I thought you had to be close to the ground or something, like it was maybe more a quick movement than truly flying. But, Nick, that's...how?" "So? Want a demonstration?" he asked, still grinning. "Of course I want a demonstra--" As soon as she had started to speak, Nick flew the few feet toward Natalie, gently but firmly grabbed her, and then flew them upstairs to the walkway. Natalie had shut her eyes, and only once he had put her down again and let go did she open them. She seemed a bit dizzy, and he wondered if perhaps he had made a mistake. "Are you...okay?" "Ah, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I think. Just...no more literal demonstrations, okay? Or none involving me, not without some type of advanced warning." Nick's smile, which had faltered for a moment, returned full force. "So, you just flew up there and stuck 'em up? Just like that?" "Pretty much." He did actually have to look at diagrams to get the stars right on some of the lesser known shapes, but as to actually getting them up there she was completely correct. He watched her as she seemed to be trying to judge the distance between the ceiling and the floor. "Hmm...uh, can I actually see you fly? I mean, I really haven't gotten to see you fly yet, have I? More just felt it, and, well, I'd kind of like to...." Nick tensed a little at this, his grin becoming less genuine. He wasn't used to mortals seeing him move--maybe feeling it, but to them it often felt like a jolt and unless they were a resistor like Natalie they could forget about it. "Just...maybe you could fly up and get one of the stars down. That wouldn't be too much to ask, would it?" "I suppose not," he said, still thinking about whether or not he should or not. "So...are you going to show me?" "Now?" "Yeah, now. Why not now?" Nick gave another smile, thinking a moment. "Yes, why not," he answered, and then he darted up to the ceiling where he quickly pulled off one of the stars. In the next moment, he flew to the floor below, where he landed and started toward the base of the steps. Natalie seemed more in awe now than in shock, and she started toward him. He held the plastic star out to her and asked, "How was that?" "I think that just threw a theory or so about you out the window," she whispered as she took the star, looking from it to Nick. "At least until I get used to knowing you can do that." Nick smiled at her comment. "And?" "And that was just...I'm at a loss on what to say about it. You've had a lot of practise with that, haven't you?" "Since I was brought across." "I don't suppose you will tell me more about that, will you?" "No," he told her a bit reluctantly, his expression barely darkening as she nodded, accepting his answer. "So, was this something you had to learn?" "No, not really. It's instinct. Although, like most things...practise does improve things." "Hmm, you got any other abilities that you're keeping to yourself?" He got a poke in the shoulder, and he smirked as he answered, "Maybe. Or maybe not," only to get prodded in the shoulder again. "Come on, there's more...." "Not really." "There is, isn't there?" Nick's smile softened. Any other quirks had to do rather more specifically with other vampires...anything else he had either hinted at or weren't abilities. "Honestly, I think we've covered everything." "You're not going to say anything more on this, are you?" "No. Not now. But perhaps later," he vaguely told her as he thought of a way to turn the subject back. Then, he took the plastic star held loosely in Natalie's hand and held it up. "So, what should I do with these now?" "You aren't going to keep them? I think they're kind of...neat." "Really, I'd rather not," he told her, trying to return to his more playful mood. "Well, then, perhaps when you take them down we can give them to my niece? I think she'd like them." Nick nodded; that was another reason he had picked the stars over the video games...he knew at least one place they might have a new home. "Next time we do this, *I'm* picking, okay? I'll bring a game that you shouldn't have too much of an advantage at." Nick groaned a bit, a bit afraid what she'd pick. He hadn't played any of the more modern board games, and many were geared more for children. "Just for that, I should bring one of Amy's old board games or something." "You wouldn't," he said, but playfully. She could bring whatever she wanted. "Yes, I would, Nick. So behave. And come by tomorrow night so I can get a vial of blood." "I thought you were going to do that now?" he asked, a bit confused, his good mood dampening a bit as he watched Natalie grin and start toward the elevator to leave. "Not after this I'm not. I don't want to ruin your mood just yet." Elusive Gains - Nick - (21/26) Dropping by the morgue an hour after the start of his shift so that Natalie could get his blood sample, Nick paused outside the doors to autopsy. The hall smelled faintly of onions and cigarette smoke. Schanke. He would have turned around if Stonetree hadn't asked where he was going--he only had so long before the other would wonder, and so Nick reluctantly entered autopsy. And, indeed, Schanke was there, both his and Natalie's attention being diverted to him as the door swung noisily shut behind him. "Don't you ever work?" Schanke immediately asked him. "I'm on break." "And you come to the morgue?" "And I thought you were day shift. You're here late. Shouldn't you be home by now?" "I am on my way home. Just thought I'd see if anything new has come up on one of my cases." Nick forced a smile; if the other was working over, either the case was urgent or the other was having issues. "Uh, I'll be with you in a minute, Nick, all right?" "Yeah," Nick answered her, and he walked around the other detective and sat down at Natalie's desk where he listened and watched the two. "I haven't found anything more regarding Jacob Parks' death. There was just nothing left behind to point his killer, nothing that will help until you have a suspect of some kind to link in or something more to go on. Have you had any luck in other sources?" "No. No luck yet. Still working on it. I have a few hunches, but nothing certain." Nick smiled a bit wider; yes, the other wasn't having much luck with his case. It was at least a little over a week old now. The other noticed his look, and Nick didn't bother to hide his amusement. "What? You aren't having much luck with your present case, either, so don't you dare say a thing." Nick's smirk didn't waver. He hadn't made any comments on either, and simply told him, "I'm not." His attention remained on Schanke even as Natalie began to physically shoo him toward the exit. "Out, out," she said, pushing Schanke toward the door. "I need to give Nick his wonderful weekly check-up, and that means out for you." "Who's enjoying these check-ups more? You or him?" Schanke asked, only to get another gentle shove toward the door. "Hurry on out before I decide to take a sample of your blood, too." Nick just grinned as Schanke left and Natalie turned toward him; Natalie had reacted to Schanke's question more than she really should have. "So, which is it?" "What?" "Who's enjoying this more?" Nick caught another flush of embarrassment. "Get over here and roll up your sleeve. And can't you shut that ultra-sensitive hearing of yours off or something?" "Who says I want to, even if I could?" he asked as he did as told. His smile remained strong even as she drew his blood, jabbing his arm not-so-gently...she was hoping he'd react, but it didn't hurt. Even after she had finished and his shirt was back in place, he didn't leave right away. "Are you wanting to ask something?" "Yes. I'd like to know who is enjoying this more." "You, probably." "And what about the jab with the needle? I think we know who was having more fun there." "You didn't seem to mind much." "It didn't really hurt." "Yes, but you were *smiling*, Nick. Who smiles when they're getting their blood drawn?" Nick's grin widened, and finally she smiled, too. "Hmm, well, I'll be by next Wednesday morning, okay? And if I take another blood sample, I'll take it then. I'd rather not have Schanke end up dropping in again when you drop by." Nick's mood dropped like a rock at the mention of Schanke; he'd have his blood taken in the middle of an autopsy if it meant avoiding Schanke. "I can't help it if he doesn't like me." "I know. And you have been doing really good. And I know you're already trying, but could you maybe try and at least pretend you're not on bad terms with him? Or, well, relax a little. You tense up every time he's around." Nick just nodded, telling her, "Yeah, I can try. But don't expect me to be his friend or anything." "Well, it probably wouldn't hurt...." "Still," he said, stopping her. He wasn't sure he'd actually be able to manage even trying not to tense when the other was around, forget if they were in a situation where they might need to talk. He gave Natalie a quick half-smile, then he left. Nick's mood had once again improved by the time he reached the outer doors, and he just saw Schanke starting back for the door to head back inside. Nick pretended he hadn't noticed and just kept walking, then slowed and stopped as the door was once again opened. Nick's eyes narrowed and he followed the other back to autopsy...and Natalie. He stopped right outside the doors, leaning against the wall, eyes closed as their conversation went back and forth: "What are you doing back here?" "Just checking in on you." "You're checking because Nick was here." "Yeah, and he saw me as he left, I'm sure of it. Is that Nick's blood? Awfully dark, isn't it?" "Yes, it's Nick's, and it is fine. And, well, not to sound outright rude, but can't you leave him alone? He could use a break, you know. And you could use some more sleep." "A few extra-long shifts aren't going to kill me." "They might worry Myra, though." There was a short pause, and Nick nearly started away. "I talked to your brother." "And?" "Well, actually he talked to me. He told me to try to get to know the guy, same thing you're telling me, pretty much. And maybe he isn't that bad. You know, he seems a bit...different lately. Friendlier, I suppose. But then, you knew that, didn't you? But he's just so weird to begin with, and--" "How's your case going?" "It'd be solved if it was Knight's case. I've got a witness that isn't talking. I'm almost positive they're the killer, or at least know *something* about who did it...but I can't get him to spill a thing. And, short of a full confession, I think the guy is going to get away with it as all the evidence is circumstantial. Like you said--nothing provides a concrete link to anyone. Not from forensics, not acquaintances, not any of the others that have been interviewed. Man, if I could do whatever Knight can do.... It's like he knows exactly what to say to get what he needs." "Well, you could ask him if he'd help out, if you think he might be able to solve your problem. I'm sure you've considered it." "I've considered it, but I'm not sure he'd help. I mean, it's not his case, anyway." "And?" "And I don't like the idea of being obligated to help someone that, frankly, neither wants a partner nor has any wish to take part in temporary collaborations of any kind." "How about if I asked Nick? If you want, I'm sure I could--" "No no no. No. By the time he'd help me, I'd have it all fixed for sure. And don't tell him about me checking in." "Schanke, if he saw you, he might know." "Yeah, well, don't tell him. Just...tell him I had something I forgot to ask you on my case." "Schanke, if he asks, I'm going to tell him." "And the case?" "Again, if he asks. Otherwise, I won't say anything. And Schanke? Please stop checking on me excessively. It really isn't necessary. Give it some thought, and I'm sure you'll agree." "Maybe. I just worry, considering what happened that one night. Can you blame me?" There was a pause, then Schanke continued, "Good. Then I should probably stop for the night and get home. Myra's getting a bit angry that I'm spending so much time at work lately. Granted, it's mostly this case, but...I told her I'd be home before midnight tonight, and I'm cutting it close. See you, Nat." Nick had started around the far corner, out of Schanke's path when he would leave, the moment the other detective mentioned that he should head home. Only once Nick heard the exit doors close in the distance did he come back around the corner. So, Schanke was having a problem getting a witness and possible suspect to talk.... Nick felt a little uncomfortable at Schanke's comment about if he 'could do whatever Knight can do'. He knew he was gaining a reputation for being good at interviewing, but that wasn't Schanke's comment. And now surely Natalie would know he'd been using what he was on the job. Would she say something? But the comments that bothered him even more were that Schanke wasn't sure he'd help if asked...and that he, himself, seemed averse to working together with anyone, even temporarily. The few times he had worked with anyone he hadn't, that he was aware, shown any overt dislike, and after he had volunteered to switch for the holiday he had two other detectives ask if he'd switch--and he hadn't turned them down. But other than those few hours right when he had started, the only times he ran into Schanke were at the morgue...and he hadn't exactly presented his best. Nick just stood there for several minutes, thinking, almost planning...would he or wouldn't he 'help' even without being asked? Natalie's suggestion that Schanke could ask him--and if he didn't want to she would--told him what she would say if he asked what to do. Elusive Gains - Nick - (22/26) "That's not fair, Nick!" Nick was having more fun than he had expected he would playing the game Natalie had brought: Monopoly. At first he had rather unenthusiastically started off, but now was switching out the houses on his full set of green properties for a couple of hotels each. "It's fair. You have all the yellow ones," he said and nodded toward the yellow properties right in front of where he sat. "But I don't have hotels on them. Let alone *two* hotels. And you *could* have just left them with the houses...that would have been fair." "I like the hotels. And it's neater." "Neater? *I* liked the houses better, and yours had been plenty neat sitting there, all in a row...." He smiled as she picked up the dice and just held onto them, stalling. When she finally threw them she landed on a chance space, drew a card, and then promptly threw it at him before shoving her piece, the car, to the jail square. That had happened to him on his first round of the board--Natalie had convinced them to keep with that game rather than start over. "Your move." Nick took his turn, went past go, and his piece, the horse and rider, landed on one of his railroads. He got his two-hundred for making it around the board, then he pulled out a fifty to give to Natalie. She refused his offer, and over the next several turns Natalie tried unsuccessfully for doubles and Nick landed quite safely, mostly on his properties. Then Natalie paid her way out, managing to escape to safety as well. He next landed on one of her yellow properties, quickly forking over his owed rent--a rather measly amount out of his stack of paper money. Then, she landed on one of his green properties with the two hotels, and he smiled. "Let's just quit, okay?" Nick's smile turned to a grin, even as she crossed her arms. The game was her idea, and they were going to finish it. "Really, Nick. I don't have enough to pay that. I'm sure of it." Nick, however, ignored her protest and took her piece, moving it slowly forward, space by space. "Nick...." He kept moving her car forward, even as she tried to pry it out of his fingers. He didn't stop until it was at its destination. The neat rows of houses, Nick's recently added hotels, and the stacks of chance and community chest cards were scattered across the board by the time Nick let go of her piece. Natalie stifled a yawn as she pulled back her hand and saw the mess. "Sorry. And sorry about the board...." "Does this mean I win?" "Oh no...no, no.... I'm not paying you, so neither of us wins. Either that, or I give up and you win by default, but since the board got messed up...." Nick smiled slightly at the inadvertent defeat, then started to work on cleaning up the mess, putting the cards, houses, hotels, and his money back. "So, I guess I should get the stars, huh?" As Nick put the lid back on the box, he admitted, "That's going to be somewhat difficult." "Why?" Nick just nodded toward the ceiling; they were still up there. "You haven't taken them down yet." "No, I haven't. I figured I'd leave them until you wanted to take them over," he answered with a slight shrug. "Good." "Good? Why is that good?" "Because you're relaxing. You're not doing things in a split second that don't need doing right away. You're not pushing things away. For that matter, you seemed to enjoy the game quite a bit considering you weren't too thrilled about it." "And I won." "No, you didn't win." "I would have, if you hadn't refused to pay the rent," he playfully pointed out. He stood, and held out his hand to Natalie who was shaking her head at his comment; shaking her head but smiling. She let him help her up, then he bent over to pick up the box, which he took to the kitchen table and placed next to her purse and medical bag. Then, somewhat reluctantly, Nick went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. He hadn't had anything that morning before Natalie had arrived, and she had already started toward the couch before he had a glass filled. Leaving the bottle on the counter, Nick went over to join Natalie, but sat in the recliner rather than next to her on the couch. Nick felt a little self-conscious drinking blood in front of her, even though he had before, and he took a small sip as he sat down. "Nick?" "Hmm?" "When you were a kid, what kinds of things did you do? I mean, I don't think you had things like the board games around now." Nick took another much longer sip from his glass as he thought. He let himself sink back into the chair. Memories from his childhood were somewhat murky, and most of what he could recall wasn't positive. Life, in general, was harder then, but he suspected children still enjoyed some of the same things. "You don't have to say anything specific, I'm just curious what things were like." "Different, but not as much as you might think," he started, wondering how vague an answer she would accept. "We...played games as children do now. Some of the games are even the same." "Like...?" "Let's just say climbing trees was one option, and various simple board games have been around a very, very long time." "Hmm, you climbed trees?" Nick smiled a bit at that. He climbed trees all right, but most of his memories were falling out of them or getting stuck somehow. He hadn't been a very good tree-climber. "Come on, tell me more, you've already let it out." "A few," he admitted. "Not that I was all that good at it, but that didn't stop me." Nick then saw Natalie seem to blank out a bit and tense. "Don't worry, I didn't manage to break anything more than a few tree branches. Luckily." "And what else? Any wooden swords, by chance?" Nick smiled at that...no, children hadn't changed much. "Yes, actually...though that wasn't just a game. But it was fun; I even got into quite a bit of trouble for that a few times." "Why?" "At first it wasn't much, but eventually it was discovered that it was I that encouraged the others to play when they had other chores to do...and I encouraged them to skip those chores," he said vaguely. It had been poorer children he had played with, too, and it was frowned on for other reasons than just taking both himself and them away from other more suitable tasks. "You said you got in trouble?" "Nothing serious, just reminders that I had other things that needed doing first, like learning and daily tasks...things children even now like to avoid. Don't worry, the only bruises I got were from the swords themselves. We were very merciless at times." "Merciless? In what way?" Nick hesitated a little; Natalie had a lot of questions it seemed. "Wood might not cut as easily as a blade but it can break bones with enough force. We sometimes got carried away, and once it led to breaking another boy's arm as he blocked me. Again, don't worry about what happened to me. I got into far more trouble for letting the dogs in and--" He cut off, realising he was wandering. Pulling out the one memory seemed to drag up a ton more. "And?" Nick took a sip from his glass, thinking again. What had he been about to say? Then, he remembered. "I...ah, borrowed a horse once." "You *borrowed* a horse?" "Yeah. It wasn't one of ours, and I didn't exactly ask," he told her. Seeing she wanted more, he explained, "I was bored.... I saw the horse, decided I wanted to go for a ride, and essentially just...took it. I brought it back after night had already fallen and, well, let's just say I behaved myself for the few weeks following that." "Ah, how old were you?" "I don't really remember...I think I was about ten or eleven?" he guessed, but knew he hadn't been any older. "And your parents? What did they do?" "Actually, I don't know if they ever found out about it," he told her. He couldn't recall any conversations or punishments...not from his parents. "Mother was generally very tolerant of my mischievousness. My father would not have been pleased at all. If he had learned what happened, I'm sure I would have known. I...was living with relatives at the time. An uncle's. And I'd rather not say what they did." Nick watched as Natalie seemed to shrink a little where she was sitting, curled up on the couch. "It wasn't as bad as you're thinking." "What?" "The punishment. I can see you're thinking about it, about what might have happened to me. But don't. Because that's all it was--a punishment. And I did deserve it. If not for taking the horse, then for the many other things that went undiscovered. It was a very long time ago," he tried to assure her, but it didn't seem to make Natalie one bit less tense even though she nodded in agreement with his reply. She had been like this at her brother's...at the mention, the recollection of having lived with her grandmother. This bothered her far more than it should. Slowly he set his glass down on the coffee table in front of where he sat. She didn't budge or even notice. At that, Nick stood and relocated, sitting next to her, which caused her to jump. "Something about this bothers you. Can I ask why?" "No. I mean, I'd rather not say, if you don't mind." "What if I tell you more about what happened?" he suggested. "Maybe." Nick lightly smiled at her answer, then carefully and truthfully told her, "The more lasting parts of my punishment had been being grounded, except for chores, which were increased...and I wasn't allowed near a horse for a fortnight. And yes, I did get physically punished that night as well, and yes, I had bruises to show for it, some rather severe. But as I said, I had earned it and there was no lasting damage." "Did...that happen often?" "No, not often. I got in trouble, but I was good at knowing how far to go to avoid being badly punished. I learned what I could get away with before I would suffer more severe consequences. I was not exactly obedient, but I was not completely reckless, either." At the last his smile widened a bit, and Natalie seemed to relax a little, almost returning it. More seriously, he again prodded, "So, why does the thought of my punishment bother you?" "Let's just say I have a pretty good idea what you felt like after taking that horse." "Your grandmother?" He saw her stiffen and knew he had guessed right before she confirmed it. "Yes. The time spent with her wasn't easy. Richard doesn't really know. Yes, she took care of us after our parents died, and that was not as pleasant as it could have been, but the damage was from before that. When I was very young, my mother would drop me off to stay with her, to watch me. She was far more forceful than necessary." "Then maybe it's better we talk about something else? Hmm? Or maybe not talk at all?" he suggested, not wanting to dredge up any more memories than he had likely already had. He stood, trying not to move too quickly, and turned out all the lights by the kitchen, which left just the table light by the couch. Returning, Nick turned that out as well before sitting back next to Natalie again. She once again stiffened a little. "Just lean back and close your eyes." Nick then watched her do just that, or at least try--he could see that her eyes were still open. Glancing up, he could see the stars were glowing ever so faintly. He had rather forgot about those. Nick leaned forward to get his glass, which was close to empty. He finished it and put it back, not looking at Natalie even though her attention had switched from the ceiling to him and the glass. Sitting back, Nick hesitated a few seconds before snaking his arm behind Natalie's back to pull her closer so that she wasn't sitting alone. At first it felt like she was going to push at him away and move back, but then she leaned her head on his shoulder, her gaze again pointed up toward the ceiling. Within a couple of minutes, Natalie's gaze switched from the ceiling and she settled into his gentle hold a bit more. It was nearly noon and it only took a few more minutes before she had fallen asleep there, curled up on the couch next to him. He didn't mind; he had rather enjoyed their game and had minded her questions less than he suspected she had minded his. Elusive Gains - Nick - (23/26) That night, once Nick had gone into work he had done some digging to see if Schanke had made any progress on the Parks case--the case he had been in to talk to Natalie about the previous week. He had vaguely decided after leaving the morgue that if the other hadn't made any progress in another week, then he would consider interviewing the other's witness/suspect again. The other hadn't, but Nick was wavering on whether he should or not. He went over the details of the case only to see what Schanke saw--without a confession or similar the case would likely go cold. Looks like Schanke thought either his uncooperative witness killed Mr. Parks or at least cut up the body--the man's legs had been cut off and then he'd been put in a box in pieces, where he had been well on the way to decomposing before he'd been found. Nick didn't blame the other for not wanting to see the body again. The witness or suspect had last been seen with the victim about at the latest time of Natalie's estimate of time of death...mid-December. The man hadn't disputed that, but it was just his word that they had gone on their separate ways. Mr. Parks never made it home to his family that night. But the location of the body, the box the body had been in, or any trace evidence...none of it tied back to any possible suspects or witnesses. Assuming it was this man who did this, then all the man needed to do was keep silent and not crack under questioning and he would remain free--which so far he had done. Most of that night Nick spent sitting at his desk, trying to decide whether to interview the man or not. He wasn't sure how Schanke would react, but had a feeling the other wouldn't be thrilled about the interference. It could make things worse between them. But even if it wasn't his case, it was still one less killer among the general populace--who says the man wouldn't do this again to someone else...or that he hadn't already and just hadn't been tied to it. If it was any other detective he'd volunteer, ask if he could be of help--as Schanke said, it's not like he was having much luck on his own cases. But he knew the other would refuse if he asked at shift-change. The other disliked him enough he'd refuse just so he couldn't 'show off'...which is what Schanke would probably think he was doing. In the end, Nick had decided to just call the man in for another interview early the next night. When Nick saw him, the man seemed to stink of subtle arrogance just with his stance. He tried at first, just asking, and he got the same answers Schanke had. Exactly the same. Then he started over again, asking, "Are you sure you don't want a lawyer?" "Yeah, I'm sure; haven't done anything wrong, have I?" "Where were you the night of this last December the 14th?" Nick asked just normally, as he had for the first round. "I already told you--you and that other detective, your partner. I was home," the man snapped back. "He's not my partner," Nick first quickly said. Then he pushed, "*Where were you really?*" "Home," the man answered again, but without the clear annoyance. Nick smiled slightly. "*Whose home?*" He leaned forward on the interview table. "*Yours or someone else's?*" "Home," he repeated, the word even more groggy-sounding. "Someone...someone else's." "*Were you alone? Or with someone?*" "Yes.... Alone...." "*A friend's home? A relatives?*" Nick continued to press. "Abandoned...." Nick tensed a little. The box had been found in an abandoned home. Schanke had likely been right to suspect this man. "*You took Jacob there, Jacob Parks.*" "I took.... Yes." "*Did you kill him before or after arriving at the house?*" The man didn't answer this immediately, as if thinking or resisting. "After," he eventually managed. "*Tell me how, tell me what you did....*" And the man did just that, slowly, but with more than enough detail on the hows and whys to put him away for a rather long time. Even once Nick had stopped pushing with the vampire's influence, the man complied and spilt his story. It had been wondrously easy. Then came the issue of telling Schanke, somehow, what he had done. Nick eventually settled on writing up a note--basically saying what he done and that he didn't expect any favours in return--and leaving it on the other's desk right before leaving for home. He hoped Schanke wouldn't make a big deal out of it, and that it would please Natalie that he tried to do something nice for the other. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Nearly four hours after arriving home from work and leaving the note on Schanke's desk, Nick's buzzer was ringing: Natalie. He let her up without a word, and when he pulled the elevator door open as it arrived he could see she had that disappointed air about her that had been mostly absent the past few times they had talked. "I'm somewhat surprised that you're still awake," she said before stepping out of the elevator. "You can use the alarm code, you know." "I didn't know when I was allowed to use it. And this is your home, Nick." "You can use it whenever you want. Anytime, day or night. I don't have many visitors." "I came to talk about something, Nick." "The interview," he guessed, wondering how or when she had found out--obviously Schanke had told her somehow. "Schanke said something, didn't he? I figured he might." "Nick, he did more than just say something to me about it." He let his eyes drop to the floor as she walked past him, then spun, at which he looked up at her. "He had me read the note you left and listen to the interview. I think you know what I'm here about." "Perhaps," he somewhat nervously said. He did push a bit hard, but not only that, but it had worked so very well...mortals rarely complied any better than the suspect had in that interview. "You used one of your abilities in the interview." "And? What if I did? Why does it matter to you?" "Because it's something that is very.... Nick, you practically put words into the man's mouth. I don't care if what he said was the truth or not--well, I *do* care about that--but Nick, you were controlling him in a manner that.... Nick, what you did is...is...it's pushing the line, Nick." "Is that why you came here? To lecture me on when to use what I can do?" "When you put it that way, maybe I should." Nick tensed; he could hear her anger, her annoyance. "But no, no, I just came by to suggest that you use a little more discretion. Schanke was pretty stunned at how you did what you did, and Schanke sees a lot more than you think he does. I'm giving you a warning that you shouldn't do that in front of people too often--and that includes audiotapes. And also that you need to be careful around Schanke." Nick already knew this; he knew what he had done was risky, but sometimes it just came out that way. He seriously doubted it would cause any problems. Not this time. "And you're warning me because...." "Because I thought you wanted to stay here." "I do." "Then please take more care, Nick. I have no idea how much you use what you are to your advantage.... I just don't want that to get you in trouble, and I'm sure you don't want that, either." Nick managed a slight smile as he realised she was only lecturing him because she cared, and he promised her, "I'll be more careful." "Just curious...but how often do you, ah...." "What?" "The hypnotic thing, or whatever it is." "A few times," he vaguely told her; he had no idea how many times he had used it since he had started at the precinct. He had tried more than once on Natalie alone. "How many? Or should I say, how many times on Stonetree?" Nick looked away at that; how had she guessed that had been his primary target? "Several. Many. I haven't for some time, though. Just at first, to get things settled." "And on that one case." Nick nodded. He had persuaded Stonetree to give one case to him...rather than Schanke, but that was definitely a one-time thing. "Yes. Yes, I did. I was frustrated. I had needed something more to do, to occupy my attention away from the hunger...so I persuaded the Captain to give me the case." "I want you to tell me that you will only do something like that when it's absolutely necessary." They both smiled a bit, and Natalie pressed, "I'm serious, Nick." "I know. And I'll...try. But some habits are hard to break." Saying that, Nick started toward the kitchen. "I've noticed." "If you'd like, I could make you some coffee?" "No. Ah, no, coffee at this of day would be a bad idea. And I wasn't planning on staying long." Nick glanced at Natalie at that; he had somewhat hoped she would stay and maybe they'd talk for a little bit. Automatically, Nick pulled out a glass and went to the refrigerator, where he filled it full with blood. Putting the bottle back and closing the fridge, he took a sip of it only to find Natalie's eyes uncomfortably on him. "The other day, you left before I woke," he said, trying to change the subject a little, and at least it got her eyes off his glass. "I felt that it would be better if I left." "You didn't need to." "Yes, I did. After I woke, I knew I wouldn't be getting back to sleep, and I didn't want to wake you, disturb your sleep, your day like that." "I wouldn't have minded, considering." She weakly smiled at him. "That's nice to know." Nick watched her become increasingly uncomfortable; she had only come because of what he had done in the interview. "I really should go, Nick." He nodded absently, and watched her start back to the elevator. He followed a few steps, at which he told her, "If you ever wish to continue with the conversation, I would not mind." "Thanks," she said with a nod. Then she had vanished into the elevator, and Nick was left alone with his glass of unneeded blood. He had gotten it on instinct, from wanting a distraction after she had said no to the offer of coffee...not because he actually needed it or even craved it. Nick took a large sip of the blood as the elevator ground to a halt, then he closed his eyes, listening as Natalie left in her car. He nearly took the glass back to the couch to finish it, but half-way there he turned around and put the glass in the fridge. Out of sight it was out of his thoughts, and he headed upstairs. It was late, and he had to work that night. Elusive Gains - Nick - (24/26) Nearly a month later Nick sat nervously and excitedly in the morgue on a stool, sleeve rolled up not to have his blood taken, but to test something Natalie had been working on for the last several weeks. She, however, seemed more hesitant, and had been turned away from him for several minutes, the injection long ready. "Are you ready, Nat?" he asked, tapping his fingers lightly, noiselessly on the counter, his eyes on her. She finally turned to look at him. "Pretty much. And you're sure about this? I have no idea how this is actually going to affect you, if at all, and--" "Natalie, please," he said, cutting off her protests. He knew she was hesitant and worried what might happen--they had already gone back and forth when she had first mentioned she might have something promising to try a good week before--but he wanted to try this. Forget that sunrise was approaching and if it didn't work he'd have to head home before then. He held back a smile as she moved closer with her syringe, repositioning his arm a bit, then injected him with the drugs she had been testing. He sat, waiting to feel something, anything different, but as Natalie pulled out the needle he barely felt it or anything else. Nor did that change a few minutes later, nor as ten, then fifteen, then even twenty minutes ticked by. "You...feel anything?" Natalie then asked him. "Anything at all? Maybe just a tingling? Headache, temperature change in the room, anything?" Nick shook his head. "No," he said, even trying to think about whether or not anything she said applied...it didn't. "Nothing. Everything seems...normal." "Well, at least this will tell me something." "And what's that?" "Well, for one thing, that this is either a dud or the dose needs upped. Mind if I come by when I get off work to take a blood sample? I'd like to see what it's doing to your cells." "Can't you just do it now?" "I could, but who knows, it might still work. It might still do something, although I doubt much if it hasn't by now. And it takes a little bit to wear off, so I'd rather take it later, after it's had time to propagate in your system." "So it might still do something?" he asked, his mood perking up a bit. Maybe all wasn't lost with this test? "Might, but I kind of doubt it. With your samples, anything has always taken effect almost immediately." "So I should call if something happens?" "Or just write down what happened and when. Unless it's serious, of course, then yeah, definitely give me a call. And you're sure you don't feel anything?" "Nothing's different." "Show me your fangs." "What?" he asked, pulling back a little in surprise. "Fangs, or...something. I want to see that they're still working." At first Nick nearly protested, even though he could see her reason: She wanted to make sure something hadn't changed out of sight that he might not notice. He knew he'd still change, he could feel it, and he closed his eyes a second before opening them, glowing gold, and flashed his fangs with a hiss. He watched as Natalie pulled a few inches back and looked away. "Working?" he asked, letting his features meld back to normal. "Oh yeah, working." "Shall I...go?" he asked a bit uncertainly even though she had already more or less told him to. "Yeah. Go home and rest. Maybe don't drink anything for a while?" Nick nodded. He didn't think he'd want anything; or he didn't right now. He could wait a few hours, at least. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Natalie had just left after taking her blood sample about two hours after his initial injection. Nick was starting to feel a little strange--like he had stayed up too long and was running on adrenaline or something. It was strange because vampires only felt like that when hunted or threatened...and right now he was neither. It didn't feel quite the same, either. He also didn't feel tired. Nor hungry. He barely noticed the last. Natalie had made the suggestion that he try to get some sleep, but that wasn't working well at all. He tried, just laying down on the couch...for about five minutes. If he had slipped off, he had started into a nightmare right away...but it felt more like memories. A time when he had been killing on want rather than need. He, with the help of LaCroix and Janette, had literally wiped out a tiny village. He remembered how LaCroix had been torn between telling him to stop and wanting him to continue--the massacre had mostly been his doing, not theirs. He had killed for no reason, not for hunger or some sort of gain like LaCroix often did, but one man had caught him feeding from his daughter and raged at him. He had killed the man and his wife, then...he had just kept killing everything in sight until nothing but chickens petered around...even they had scattered when he approached. After that Nick had tried to occupy his time, first with the television, then with his piano, and then he had finally resorted to his paintings. That had taken up quite a bit of his time, even just moving the paintings themselves and his supplies inside, deciding where to put it, and then setting something up to work on. He ended up starting a new canvas, and about the first thing he had done was spill paint on it as his fangs came slicing down abruptly without warning. Then, they wouldn't retract again at will. That was something different, that's for sure. He had tried to actually give his fangs a push up when they wouldn't go on their own, but that had done little more than make his fingers bleed. He had then turned his attention back to the painting to keep his thoughts from either returning to his bloody misdeeds from the past, or the annoyance his fangs were causing. He had kept with the theme of the spilt paint, which he then used his fingers to smear a bit more. He vaguely wished he had put a tarp down or something...the floor was now a mess with paint pooled in places like blood that had dripped off a table. It didn't help that the colours he was primarily using were red, black, and blue. As he finished the painting--at least until it could dry some--Nick realised not only had his fangs not budged one bit, but his vision was clear and slightly tinted. His fangs weren't the only problem. But at that he had tested a few other things--sunlight, even that mirror, and he had been a bit shocked. He had never seen his reflection in that mirror, but there he had been. Sunlight still burned; in fact, that might have been worse. Garlic was better, however. And from the dozens of times he had sliced his lip or fingers open on his fangs he knew he healed just as fast as usual. Then, as late afternoon arrived, Nick finally gave in and grabbed his phone to call in sick to work. He then waited another almost two hours before he called Natalie to tell her he had called in to work and that she should probably come over. He had hung up on her, not allowing her to ask why. Only about fifteen minutes passed before he heard the elevator start up, and Nick watched as Natalie walked in, her gaze falling on his paintings as she walked inside. He flew forward, landing behind her as she cautiously entered further, looking for him. "I got bored," he told her, nodding to the paintings and paint supplies. She turned, and then she seemed to freeze; she had to see that he wasn't quite human looking, forget that his clothes had paint splatters and smudges on them. "Uh, Nick, what...?" Thoughts still set on the painting, he told her, "Remember? You had asked me about hobbies? So, after you left and I couldn't sleep, I decided to move things in here and get everything set up.... I even painted a little this afternoon." He paused...for about a half second, then admitted, "And then I noticed a little problem." Natalie still mostly just stared at him, as if her mind was trying to catch up. "And, uh, the problem is that you're hyper beyond reason for a vampire? Or, well, just about any adult human, for that matter...? Can't you at least axe the eyes and fangs? That's just, well...." Inwardly, Nick's mood dropped a bit; that was his problem, he couldn't. "So, what's wrong?" "Just that I can't get rid of these things." "What things?" Nick looked away. She could see his state bothered her, but she didn't quite connect what was wrong. "Nick, tell me." "It's these," he admitted, flashing his fangs, bringing his right hand up to point vaguely at his elongated canines. "They're a bit annoying stuck like this." "What do you mean by you can't get rid of them, that they're...stuck? Are you serious?" "Very serious. Really. They won't go back up. It's not that I don't want them to, but they just...won't. I've tried to...push them back up, anything. I just want them gone," he said annoyed, and then what did she do? She laughed at him. A quick glare smothered it, but he could tell she was still amused. "It's not funny." "Oh yes, it is." "Not when I keep getting cut on them." He touched one with his thumb, giving it a gentle shove upward, and the sharp edge yet again cut into his flesh drawing blood. He licked it away, not wanting to add more blood to his clothes, and could taste a bit of the paint. "Uh, aren't you used to them? I mean, you have had quite a number of years to get used to them." "Yes, but they're more functional than not. I keep forgetting they're there. They're not made to be in use all the time. And they're certainly not meant for talking." He prodded them again, and he heard Natalie giggle again at his antics. "How long have they been like this?" "I'm not sure. Three or four hours?" "It must be an effect of what I gave you." "Well, get rid of it," he told her, but all she did was shake her head at him and grin. This wasn't funny, not to him. He wanted it gone. Now. "I think you're going to just have to wait until it wears off, Nick. I don't want to risk giving you anything more." "Are you sure it will wear off?" he asked uncertainly. "It doesn't seem to be getting any better." "Yeah, I'm sure. The drug must stabilise your vampiric attributes and not the mortal ones, as I had thought. Did you test to see if sunlight burns you? The samples didn't...." "I tested. I burn," he said rather matter-of-factly with a glare. He burnt quickly and badly. "It will wear off, Nick. I'm sure of it." They both remained silent for well over a minute, neither looking toward the other. "I had to call in, obviously," Nick eventually said to break the silence. "Probably a good thing, considering your, uh...." "Yeah. Probably wouldn't be good to walk into the precinct like this. I don't know what I'm going to do if they're still here this time tomorrow." Nick caught a nod from Natalie. It was more than just his worry that he might be permanently stuck like this...he really didn't want to call in for several days in a row again, either. When Natalie walked over to and sat on the couch, Nick headed to the kitchen to make coffee for her. She'd probably need it if she took another sample of his blood to test. Taking a mug of coffee over to Natalie, he was pleased when she took it without protest. Then he sat in the recliner and tried to keep his gaze pointed away from her. He did look at her periodically, but he managed not to stare. He tensed when she finished the coffee and sat the now empty mug down. "Nick, I hate to go, but I probably should." "And what should I do?" he asked after she stood and headed to the elevator. He stood as well, but didn't immediately go after her. "I don't know, Nick. Other than wait, I'm not sure what we can do at the moment. Paint? If it gets worse, I'd like you to call me, okay?" "And what if this doesn't wear off?" "If it doesn't, then we'll just have to find a way to reverse it. But give it until tomorrow or so. It might just take longer, like it took longer for the effects to appear. Okay, Nick? I-I'm going to head to the morgue, look again at the samples I took this morning. I'll be back in a few hours." When Natalie turned and started for the elevator again, Nick flew forward, grabbing her around the waist with one arm before she'd managed more than a step. "Nick, what--" He covered her mouth with his other hand. "You have no idea what this feels like. No idea." He somewhat emphasised his words with the points of his fangs, which he let rake against her neck. He felt no want for her blood; it wasn't as dangerous or arousing an action as it would be normally. "But perhaps you should." He brushed her neck with his fangs again, then released her. Natalie spun, exclaiming, "What the hell was that?!" "A bit of fun," Nick said with a smile...a fanged smile. "That was *not* fun. I mean it, Nick." Nick's smile vanished, but it returned in a rather manic, twisted smirk. "Then you know how I feel about now. Being stuck like this isn't exactly fun either. It's very uncomfortable." He turned, walking a couple of steps away. He was afraid, but he also realised he had overstepped with how he had stopped her from leaving. Assuming he had even done that. He had thought it would be at least a little fun for her, but he hadn't thought about how he looked...moreover, he felt he had moved faster than intended. Turning back, he told her, "I'd like for you to stay." "And I think I would rather not." "Because I frightened you?" he half-stated, knowing he had. "Yes, you frightened me! And I'm starting to wonder how you're being affected by what I gave you. It's changed your personality just as much--if not more--than anything else. Including your fangs. You're not yourself." "If it helps, I meant it when I said it was just some fun. And if you're wondering how it's making me different, then stay, please." Nick paused; she hadn't left yet, so maybe he hadn't gone too far? Continuing, he again told her, "I'd prefer if you stayed." "I'm not sure it's wise. I'm surprised you haven't already said that." "I'm not hungry. I haven't been all day." "You haven't been? At all?" "No, I haven't. The effects seem mixed." "So...mixed? In what way?" Nick thought back to the things he had tried. "I am visible in mirrors, all mirrors, even the one I showed you. And garlic seemed a bit better. I still don't like it much, but it doesn't make me as sick or burn as bad." "So, it does work." "But not like it's supposed to. Not like you had expected." "No, it didn't," she started, shaking her head. "Not exactly. Anything...else?" "Well, as you said I seem to have a lot of energy. Or, perhaps not energy but the need to continually be doing something, to be focusing on something...." He trailed of slightly, remembering a flash of that memory he'd been trying to avoid. And others. Others had tried prying their way into his thoughts when he paused too long, too. "And if you don't?" "Then I start remembering things I'd really rather not remember," he told her honestly and looked away. "Nick?" "Perhaps you should go," he told her harshly. He stiffened a little as Natalie now decided to approach him rather than turn for the door. "If me being like this bothers you, then you should go. And perhaps consider not helping me, because if you continue, I can almost assure you that this will not be the last time you see my fangs." His words seemed to make her stop, but then continued closer until she was within just a couple of feet, and he tensed further. "Nick...when you grabbed me, I really couldn't tell if you were serious and not, and I'd prefer if you didn't do anything like that again unless it's clear it's just a bit of fun before you actually push it. I couldn't tell, Nick. I didn't know what your intentions were." His eyes darted to her as she moved to his side, and he nearly pulled away as she touched his face, turning it toward her. He hadn't meant to frighten her, and while he knew she hadn't been in any danger, she of course couldn't tell; how could she with how he looked. "Nick?" "I won't," he told he in answer, trying to manage a smile. He wouldn't do that again, not to purposely frighten her and not in fun, not unless she was ready for it....like that morning in the snow. She hadn't seemed to mind it too much that day. He supposed that's what she meant.... He came out of his thoughts as her hand dropped away. "Your fangs.... You said you couldn't get them to go up or whatever. I haven't asked, but I am a bit curious as to how they work?" He thought, but that was a lot like being able to fly or not showing up in mirrors. It didn't really make sense how they descended and changed. "I'm not really sure." "What do you mean, you're not really sure?" "It's kind of like being able to fly. And just about everything else related to what I am." "And by that you mean...?" "That I don't have an answer with a scientific explanation. They just...work," he said a bit frustrated, but his annoyance quickly faded and he smiled a little. "I'm actually surprised you haven't asked if you could take an x-ray." "I honestly didn't think you would let me, so I didn't bother." Nick shifted uncomfortably on his feet; he probably would have refused if she had asked early on. But now...now he would probably let Natalie do any test she wanted. "Can I maybe look at them? I mean, they're there, and now might be a good time considering you mentioned you weren't hungry, right?" Nick didn't feel any more comfortable by her question. "What do you mean by look at them?" "Well, I'm a bit curious as to just how sharp they are and what they're like on the back...." "So you'd like to...feel them?" "Well, yeah, that would work. Probably the easiest way to find out, wouldn't it be?" Nick had to think about it for a moment. She was right in that maybe now might be better. His fangs didn't seem to be quite as sensitive to pressure as normal, and it's not like they'd abruptly descend or retract. He couldn't think of when a mortal would have ever touched his fangs, not out of pure curiosity to examine them. "I suppose it would be okay. I haven't had anyone ask that before." Natalie almost immediately moved closer, raising her hand, but he pushed it down. "I think it might be better if we were sitting," he said as he started to guide her over to the couch; it would both give her an easier view, and to be honest he was a bit nervous. They both sat, turned slightly toward one another. "And be careful. They are very sharp." Nick got a nod in response, then she reached forward again. He tried to give her easy access, then right off the bat she touched the front of one of his fangs, her finger brushing down the front of the tooth toward the point. He flinched back as he felt his body respond rather...inappropriately. She, too, pulled her hand back, and he caught it before she could perhaps stand. "It's okay, Nat. I wasn't quite prepared for that." "Are you now?" Nick pushed down the strangely intense feeling of physical want that was unaccompanied by the want for blood, then nodded once he felt a bit more like he had a few minutes before. "It'll be fine this time. Just...don't touch them like that again." He looked away a moment before once again trying to relax and give her access. This time Natalie touched the edge of his fangs, and the points. He stiffened as she touched the back side; once again he was feeling the rather erotic pleasure he had felt when her finger had stroked the front. He tolerated the touch as long as possible, then pulled his head back and away so as not to cut her. "Sorry." "It's fine," he quickly said; he felt he should be the one apologising. "They're not smooth on the back." "No, they're not. It's what makes it possible to, ah...." He cut off as she nodded. "Do you, er, know what it is? Is it a groove, or what?" He thought, but shook his head and told her, "Not that, I don't think." "You don't think?" "I don't really know. They're quite sensitive to touch, any kind of touch," he told her, tempted to add that a vampire's fangs were as or more sensitive than their neck...but he noticed she now seemed slightly embarrassed. "The x-ray, would you allow it?" "Maybe." "Nick, I...I should probably--" He grabbed her arms as she stood, which made her sit back down; he still didn't want her to leave. "It's fine, really. You did nothing wrong. I should have told you how I might react. Please, don't leave." "Nick...your eyes aren't gold anymore. Maybe it's wearing off?" Wearing off? Nick liked the sound of that. And yes, his vision seemed less crisp and tinted, Natalie's form no longer standing out from her surroundings. He tried to will his fangs back, but those were still stuck in place it seemed. He smiled, knowing she'd catch a glimpse of them. "Or starting to?" "Perhaps." At his word Nick watched Natalie lean back, and he did so as well and abruptly yawned. He hadn't realised how tired he was; or thought about how tired he'd be once his need to do something started to fade. He rarely got that tired, or yawned for that matter. Just sitting there Nick found his past was no longer trying to intrude, keeping him unwillingly awake....which was more of a relief than he expected. So was it a relief that Natalie hadn't stood and left, and he leaned his head over onto her shoulder, thankful for her presence. Elusive Gains - Nick - (25/26) Nick only slept a couple of hours, and upon waking he had realised exactly where he had fallen asleep--eventually he had fallen over with his head in her lap--and apologised to Natalie, who hadn't pushed him away. He hadn't meant to do that. She hadn't seemed too upset--no harm done as it was her day off--and she had taken another blood sample before she left. And then she had taken another that morning and as well as the following evening. While his eyes had returned to normal, his fangs were another matter. His fangs had at least ceased being stuck descended that morning, but even has he slept that day it became clear they weren't back to normal. The slightest touch or thought would send them back down, and after nearly a day of them being stuck down he had taken to prodding them to check...and now if he checked to see if they were normal, if they were they weren't for long. As a result, he ended up calling in again, although he probably could have gone as long as he didn't mind explaining a bloody lower lip or few. He also so far hadn't regained his want for blood. Natalie had told him to have something when she had taken one of her samples of his blood, at least enough to replace what she had taken. He had complied, or at least tried to--he hadn't managed to finish the glass. He just didn't want it. At all. Nick had arrived at the morgue nearly twenty minutes ago for another blood sample; she had insisted even though he had told her he felt fine again. Waiting as Natalie looked at his blood under her microscope, his eyes wandered the room catching on a note on a wall calendar. Natalie's birthday...only a few days away. The day they had met, now nearly a year before. Had it really been a year? "So, Nick, how are you feeling?" Nick tore his eyes from the calendar; he didn't think Natalie had seen his focus, her eyes still on his blood. "I feel fine. I have since I woke up, you know that," he again told her, wishing she wouldn't worry so much about him. "Except that you weren't hungry then, nor were you when I left this morning. Did you have anything to drink during the day?" Seeing her shift, he playfully let his fangs descend and smiled; just so that she could see them. He was getting a bit bored again; two full days and nights of sitting and waiting had become tiring. He was pleased when she didn't startle too much. "Nick...keep your focus. Please. Now, do I have to ask my question again?" "No," he said, going more serious. "And your answer is yes, I've fed." "On what?" "Half a glass of cow's blood." "Hmm." Nick could barely believe she was chastising him for not drinking enough blood. Barely. Natalie probably didn't want him to go on some binge when his hunger did return. "I'll have more when I go home," he promised, but if he managed the other half a glass he'd be surprised. "And? Anything else I'd like to know about?" "And as far as I can tell, I'm back to normal. I feel fine. My fangs retract like they're supposed to, and I don't think I'll be staying up all day tomorrow, looking for something to do." "What about your hunger? You said you fed, but..." "It's...returning." "But it's not back to normal yet?" "No, not yet. But it is returning. Slowly. I don't think it will be a problem, though." "Why?" "Because the hunger faded almost immediately after the injection. I never really noticed it; I was waiting to feel something change, but it was so gradual I didn't notice. And then later I was too preoccupied finding stuff to do to think about it." "First symptom to appear." "And last to leave. In a few hours, I'm sure I'll be fine." He gave her a small smile, then nodded toward the slide of his blood under the microscope. "It's almost worn off, hasn't it?" "Yes. Your blood is almost back to normal." As she flipped of the light on the microscope, Nick reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the zippered freezer bag he had put all the glow-in-the-dark stars into. Handing them out he told her, "I thought you might like to give them to Amy." She took them, although her action seemed hesitant. "How about we take them over in a couple of nights? I can let my brother know, and this time you can meet Amy. How about that?" Nick tensed at the mention of another visit with her relatives. "I-I'm not sure." "You enjoyed our visit, didn't you?" "I suppose...." he hesitantly told her. He hadn't not enjoyed the visit, it had just felt a bit awkward. He was also a bit worried the other would get the impression he and Natalie were dating or something; they weren't, nor could they. "Then you should come with me. It can't hurt to have a little bit of fun before your shift starts sometime, can it?" Nick pulled back a little as she held the bag of plastic stars back out to him; he didn't take them. "It'd be easier if you held onto them, Nick. And besides, I've already told him that we might come by to give something to Amy. And he seemed glad to hear you'd be coming with me." He took the bag, and Natalie seemed satisfied. "Good morning, Natalie, and--" Schanke froze upon seeing Nick. "I thought you had called in sick last night?" Nick hastily put the bag back into his jacket. Schanke. He tried not to react, and just confirmed, "Yes, I did." "And he did so on my order, Schanke." "He wasn't in the night before that, either..." "Well, he will be tomorrow night." "It was one of those twenty-four-hour flues," Nick said, trying to shift the attention back to him, but it was clear Schanke was still suspicious...and probably thought he was getting away with something. "Yeah, right." "He's not contagious anymore, don't worry," Natalie said when Schanke approached but kept his distance from Nick. "And you'd like?" "Well, I had hoped that you would be alone, but I suppose it's good that Knight's here." Nick tensed as the other focused right on him. What did Schanke want with him? "I just wanted to thank you for interviewing that witness. The case is going to court." Nick relaxed and nodded in reply to the other. "Just thought you'd like to know it might mean you taking the stand, and despite that I'd much rather had you at least ask before doing the interview, I'm glad you did." "Don't worry, I won't do it again," Nick told him rather curtly, sarcastically. "Good. Well, some people need to go to work, so I'm out of here. See you later, Natalie." "Bye, Schanke." Nick inwardly tensed when Schanke left and Natalie turned on him, her arms crossed in front of her. "You didn't have to do that, you know." "What?" he asked, trying to feign innocence. "You know what, Nick. Your tone." "He wasn't expecting to find me here. Besides, he didn't even notice." "I'll bet you he noticed. If I could hear the difference in your voice, I'm sure he did, too." "I accepted his thanks, Natalie. That's plenty for now." He watched her relax a little, seeming to accept that. "I'm not going to get along with everyone. Do you? Does anyone?" "Well, no, I suppose not." "So if I don't end up getting along with Schanke, it's not the end of the world, right?" "No, it's not." Seeing Natalie then check the wall clock then turn back to him, before she could say anything he told her, "I know, Nat, I need to get home soon. I didn't drive, so I still have a few minutes." "Nick, you can't just not drive whenever you feel like it." "I know. And I won't." He smiled. "I just figured that since I called in to work it would be better if the Caddy wasn't seen here." "Meet me here, at sunset, in two nights, okay? And get home while you have time." "Yes, Doctor, or maybe moth--" Nick cut off as she shoved him, hard. "Don't even. Get before the sun comes up, as I won't be taking you home this morning." Nick smiled again, wider, as he left autopsy. Then, in the hall, his smile vanished. It was her birthday in a few days. He'd have to get her something, and he wouldn't have much time. He wanted to somehow repay her for the coin she had given him a few months before. Elusive Gains - Nick - (26/26) Nick had felt a little out of place going with Natalie to her brother's--he had forgotten the stars, and the visit turned out to be when her brother decided to celebrate her birthday. Natalie had asked him when his was, but he hadn't answered--he didn't know when his present incarnation's birthday was, and he didn't want her to get him another, possibly somewhat expensive, gift. Forget that she seemed to put a lot of thought into gifts--or at least she had for Christmas. His birthday gift to her wasn't overly special. Dropping by the morgue he gave her a card, but she seemed hesitant to open it. Today was her birthday, and she had to know what the card was. "Just open it," he prodded, and she glanced up at him before pulling the card out. She didn't open it right away, though. "Is something wrong?" Natalie shook her head as she looked at the cover of the simple card. "Uh, no. No, nothing's wrong," she told him, then opened the card. After a moment, she smiled. "I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to get you a gift, but I, well...." Nick pulled out a small box wrapped with shiny, light blue wrapping paper. He fingered it a bit, hoping she would accept it, then held it out. "I wanted to get you something." She took it, but after a moment handed it back. "Please, Natalie. It is your birthday...just think of it as a birthday present. You can do whatever you want with it. Please, take it." "Nick, I'd really rather--" "It's a gift. And I'm not returning it. Please, open it." If she didn't take it, he planned to remind her she had made him accept hers, but she did. He watched her slowly tear into the wrapping paper, then hesitated as she saw the box and then opened it. He couldn't read her reaction, whether she liked the earrings, the small sapphire flowers or not. He had wanted something small, but not too small, and something that wasn't diamonds. "Nick, I--" "Don't." "I'm serious, Nick. This is too much." "It's too personal?" he asked a bit worried; he had been a bit uncertain if she would accept given it was jewellery. "No, it's.... Well, yes, it is a bit personal, but I just don't like you spending this much on me." "Then take it in repayment of the gift you gave me for Christmas." He watched her flip the box close, seemingly thinking. "Think of it as a gift in return," he suggested. He hadn't really spent that much on them, not really, not compared to what she probably had. "And the charity dinner? Or, for that matter, the opera? What was that supposed to be?" "Think of those as...working on my cure," he said, then he watched her fidget with the box. At least she wasn't trying to refuse his gift any longer. Then, wanting her to know what had happened with the latest try didn't bother him and hoping to keep the topic away from his birthday gift to her, Nick continued with that thought, "I would like to try something else. Something like the last thing we tried." "Oh no, no...Nick. I'm not injecting you with anything else any time soon." He watched her turn and go to put the box away in her desk, but she didn't say anything more. Nor did she turn back toward him. "Natalie, I'm sure you've found other things that might, perhaps, be...promising?" Still, she neither turned around nor answered him. Was there something else? "Please. I want to keep working on this." Natalie spun, looking frustrated. "Nick, we can't plough ahead like you want. Your physiology is complicated. There's a chance I may never find anything." "You will." He knew she would...but she shook her head at him. "I don't have anything for you to try right now. And I think it would be better if we took this a little slower. I don't want to inject you with anything until I'm sure it won't have adverse effects. And I'm not even sure that's the right approach." "The last wasn't too bad. At the time it was a little annoying, but--" "Nick, you're not listening to me." "I am." "No, you're not. By adverse effects, I mean something far worse than having your fangs temporarily stuck down. I'm talking about results that could, possibly, end up causing you a lot of pain and maybe even killing you. And I'm not going to do anything that might have that as a result." Nick wasn't put off in the slightest. He didn't care about pain; even the possibility of dying was a risk he'd take. If he was willing he felt like she should be, too. "The chances of killing me are probably a thousand to one or less." "I don't care if they're a trillion to one, Nick!" He tensed as she yelled at him, even pulling back a bit. "The chances of doing harm to you are a lot greater than killing you. Just think of that concoction you tested on your own, what it did to you. And I'm a doctor. Your doctor. Do you know where I'm going with this?" Nick had to think a couple of seconds, but replied, "Do no harm." "Precisely. And while that may work a little differently where you are concerned, it's still a priority. I'm not going to do anything unless I'm sure it will do more good than not, or there's a low risk of complications." And he knew what that meant: They wouldn't be trying another drug anytime soon. "Which means no injections." "That's right. Maybe later, but for now I really think we should stick with safer things." "Safer things," Nick repeated, a bit disappointed, and he turned away. He knew what that meant--probably more liquid, blood-alternatives. "Just for now. And certainly until I can figure out what happened with the last attempt, as the effects were different than expected. Safer means we need to take things more cautiously, it doesn't mean we have to stop. It means doing further tests on your blood, on your cells. And some of the ones I want to run, I can't do here, Nick. More tests will mean that next time should go much better and we should be much closer. I have no intention of stopping, Nick." "Nor do I," he firmly told her, turning back. She looked a bit disappointed that she couldn't help him more, faster, too. She just didn't want to hurt him, kill him in the process. "I still don't understand why you chose to help me in the first place. I can't comprehend it. You care." "Of course I care. You can't understand because you can't see you're more. And you are, Nick. You're far more than just a vampire, or just a man that has become one. However much you think otherwise, you are human." Nick considered that, his gaze drifting slightly. He might not be mortal, but human.... "Maybe." "Maybe?" Nick nodded, then tentatively told her some of his thoughts, "I certainly don't feel human physiologically, but I suppose I feel a bit more human in other ways." "Like before you came across?" He hesitated; it wasn't like that, but he felt like he belonged somewhere for once...he belonged somewhere he didn't have the urge to flee from. He tried to smile, which was difficult, and replied, "Something like that." "You aren't going to tell me more about that, are you?" "No," he quickly answered. He had told her enough about his time as a mortal, and those last few months, couple of years were...not something he much wanted to discuss. He wasn't sure if he ever would, but told her, "Not now." "And just what is going to get you to talk?" Nick was torn between smiling and raising his defences. He couldn't easily talk about his time as a mortal without mentioning where and how he was brought across...and LaCroix and Janette. He didn't want to drag her into that mess. "I don't know," he replied to her question, then changed the topic, asking, "When do you think we might be able to try something again?" "Nick...." "I know, I know, nothing dangerous. Just...when do you want me to try changing something, or what I should do now?" "I'll let you know, okay? I have a few ideas, but I want to work out what might be best to try first. Perhaps a modification of that shake I had you try, or something else that's liquid?" He cringed back a little; it was as he had expected. He forced his distaste away, agreeing, "Yeah, I guess. That would probably be best. I'll see you later, Nat. I should go." He nodded toward the clock. Sunrise was rapidly approaching. Smiling, grinning, he said, "And again, happy birthday. Go out and do something fun." Natalie nodded to him as he backed toward the door and left, and he caught a somewhat subdued smile in return. He worried he had pressed too eagerly for another attempt at something quick, but he did feel they were making progress in other ways. Just recognising that was progress, wasn't it? *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Over the next couple of weeks Nick didn't bring up the possibility of trying another drug and had complied with trying a couple of different liquids. First, Natalie had him re-try the shake she had made, but she mixed it with some of his cow's blood. That hadn't made it one bit better. In fact, the cow's blood somehow made it even less palatable. Then, tonight, she had him try something nearly clear. It wasn't water, but she wouldn't tell him what was actually in it. It had been faintly golden, and it had tasted somewhat bitter. Almost water, but not quite. Natalie must have remembered his relative lack of reaction to drinking water. She had urged him to drink all of it. He had done just that, and then he had felt queasy for the remainder of his shift. He hadn't gotten sick, though. Now home, Nick's mind was on getting a glass of something to push away the persistent nausea. He had messages, and he started the playback on his way to the fridge. The first was a message regarding his latest case, that the techs had been able to get into the victim's computer files. The second was from Natalie, and he hesitated a moment before filling his glass at her voice: "Hi, Nick, it's Natalie. I hope you've been a good boy and didn't go home for an extra snack of sorts; I don't think you did, as I did a bit of snooping when I dropped something off for you." Nick stiffened as he put the bottle back in the fridge. "There's a box by your answering machine. Open it. You never did tell me when *your* birthday was so I went ahead and got you something. And, yes, I left it there so you couldn't refuse. You can let me know whether you like it or not when I drop by tonight--I thought we could take those stars over to Amy finally." A gift? A birthday gift, it sounded like, even though it wasn't his birthday. Nick started back to the answering machine before her message finished, setting his glass on one side. There, on the other side, was a medium-sized black box. It wasn't wrapped, and he gingerly picked it up as he listened to the remainder of her message. "Oh, and look on the back. You'll know what I mean once you open it, assuming you haven't already. See you tonight." The machine beeped and turned off. Nick carefully opened the box, half-expecting to find another coin of some sort, but instead there was a watch inside. The rectangular bezel he was sure was gold, but otherwise it was a relatively plain, simple watch. He liked the look of it and wondered if she had noticed he didn't wear one...or heard Stonetree comment about it. At least he now knew, indeed, what she meant. He pulled it out of the box and flipped it over, and there in the steel back-plate was an inscription: "To Nick, A man who has all the time in the world, From Natalie." Nick smiled at the simple, etched in words. He'd never forget his time in Toronto in this century, this decade. She had made sure of that. He hoped one day the engraved words would be false, but then even if he became mortal...he might give up working. Time always flew faster when he worked, and he had enough money to really experience whatever time he'd have left as a mortal. He had all the time he'd want, whatever the case--more than seven-hundred and fifty extra years so far--and it was a reminder that it was his choice what to do with his time. Sometime, he supposed, he'd have to tell her when his birthday was...his real birthday, not Nick Knight's birthday. He hadn't really thought about telling her as they had only become more like friends than strictly doctor-patient after his birthday. Maybe he'd tell her tonight? He genuinely liked the gift and while quite personal he didn't feel as bad accepting this gift as he did the coin--which would have actually cost more by his guess. If Natalie had given him this instead he would have refused it, even if he had to return it to her apartment. Now, however, he felt it was now or would be a treasured gift. He almost put the watch on right then, but stopped himself. He'd wait until that night, make sure he put it on before she came over so she'd see it. He wondered if she feared he'd refuse it, but he hoped, expected he'd get a smile. ~finis~ I hope you enjoyed the story! And thanks for reading/making it to the end. Dark Chocolate, White Chocolate, etc. gratefully accepted at: jarvinia@gmx.com Jarvinia http://gryffonslair.com `@>--,---`---` In addition: I guess I should say/add that Monopoly is *not* mine, and hopefully I didn't screw that part up much as it has been a long time since I played that game. The marine token: I found it on eBay when searching for an idea of a 'gift'. It was soooo perfect. And while I did save the image, my hard drive died since then and I barely had time to get the 'then' latest version of this story (Natalie's version) onto a disk...let alone anything else.