TRUST - Jarvinia Please send all comments, questions, and suggestions to: jarvinia@gmx.com DISCLAIMER: The concepts of vampires as used in this story and the characters of Forever Knight are the property of James D. Parriott, Sony Pictures Entertainment, Columbia TriStar Television, and the Sci-Fi Channel, and are used without permission. Other characters not part of Forever Knight are mine, and may not be used without permission. This is an amateur publication intended solely for the entertainment of its readers. No infringements intended on copyrights, etc. ~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~ Trust - (1/4) It had now been three weeks since her first live patient woke up on her examining table. She kept asking herself who he was, she already knew what he was. He had even told her. A vampire. For the first week she doubted she'd ever see him again, and then, he had tested her. He had walked by her in the park, brushing her shoulder, and triggering the memories of their first meeting. The opportunity had been too great and she had stood up to him. She told him she knew what he was doing, that he was testing her. Since then, she had been waiting for him to contact her again, and with each passing day she grew more doubtful. After having two days off, she was dreading going back into work. What if he did show up? What would happen then? After entering the building, and taking her time get to her office, she discovered that no one else was there at the moment. Not only that, but she had no new patients either. Starting to work on one of her reports, and discovering she needed to check one of the tests, retrieved its slide and placed it under the microscope. The test was normal like she had suspected. She turned around to suddenly be confronted with the very reason she debated not coming. He was standing only a few feet from her, and he looked no different than he had two weeks before. His facial expression was cold, completely unemotional. For over a minute, neither moved a muscle, both waiting for the other to do something. Finally, Natalie couldn't take the stillness any longer, she had to do something, and decided to ask a question. "How did you get in here?" was the first thing she could think of. "I walked," he told her, his voice cold. "I mean how did you get in here without making a sound? I never heard the door open." "I didn't mean to startle you," he said in answer. Yet, it was not an answer to her question. After a few moments more of silence, she realized he wasn't going to answer her question. He still didn't trust her. But what reason did he have to do so? As far as he was concerned she could reveal to all the world about vampires. Her thoughts returned to his statement, and she told him, "You didn't." After a pause she asked, "Have you thought about my offer?" "To find a cure," he stated. He seemed to consider her question before answering her. "Yes, I have." "And?" she prodded, wanting to know if he was going to let her help him or not. "And I may take you up on it. But, you must understand how dangerous this is." 'Too many had already died in my quest for a cure.' "I don't think you could hurt me." Suddenly he was behind her pulling her head slightly to the side. She stood her ground, and as he spoke she could feel his cool breath against her throat, "I told you before that you should stay away, that I might hurt you not because I want to, but that it might happen anyway. Also, others may not think too well of your . . . work." He was now standing where he had been moments before, in the same stance, same everything as when she first saw him. She never even saw him walk back, he was just there. His manner was strange. As he watched her, she could almost feel her heartbeat speed up, and she hoped he didn't notice. "I think I understand the dangers. I would like to help you." He again approached her, stopping merely inches from her. His eyes narrowed as he approached, a dangerous look daring her. "Are you just saying that, or do you really want to?" "I really want to help you. Usually I just find out why someone died, but this way I can actually help someone, help you." As she answered he slowly and gracefully walked back to his spot. He was wary of her offer. Someone had agreed to help him, and didn't want anything in return. This doctor, this mortal, didn't want anything in return, nothing but satisfaction that she was helping him. 'This was too good to be true,' his mind told him. 'But what if it wasn't? What if she really could find a cure?' The silence continued for a little over a minute, but it was not broken by them. A detective walked through the door. While her mind was on the intruder, her guest disappeared. The detective approached Natalie, as she stood motionless in the center of the room. "Doctor Lambert, are you all right?" She was slightly stunned by his sudden entrance, and rovering her motor skills, answered, "Yeah, I'm fine. You just startled me." The reply didn't completely satisfy him, but once the ME's mind was set, it rarely changed. "Well, the reason I came over was for the autopsy report on Kelly Smithers." 'The one I was working on before he came back.' She looked up at the clock, and found that it was 11:07. She'd been there for over an hour already and the slide was still on the microscope. The report wasn't ready like she had planned. "I'm not quite finished with it, I'll drop it by when I get it done," she quickly told him, suppressing a flinch. "Okay." He was about to leave, but turned back to her, "Are you sure you're okay, doctor?" "I'm sure, and I'll bring it by as soon as I can." She hadn't moved the entire time. As soon as the door closed, the detective's footsteps fading, her guest reappeared in about the same place he had left moments ago. If she hadn't been as confused as she was, she would have noticed that it was the exact same place. "Why didn't you say something to him?" he questioned her, suspicion lacing his words, his eyes narrowing, giving them an even darker look. 'He's giving me another test,' she realized, and told him, "Because you came to me for help, and I wouldn't reveal you to anyone, especially since you don't seem to want to be revealed. Besides, the thought never even occurred to me." He took her comment in slowly, listening both to the words and her heart. It didn't skip, nothing changed. She was telling the truth. He waited another moment, to see if she was suppressing it, but she wasn't. Still nothing changed. He finally told her, "I accept your offer." At those words, she was glowing on the inside. He had accepted. He was going to let her find a cure for him. "When should I return?" he asked her, the coldness slipping out of his voice, if only for a second. The question caught her off guard, but she had to answer. "Well, whenever it is most convenient for you. Although, I would suggest coming around midnight. It's not as busy then, and you probably wouldn't be noticed." "Four days, Friday, midnight," he told her, then walked quickly toward the door. "Wait!" she called to him stepping slightly forward, "I don't even know what to call you, what your name is!" He stopped and seemed to ponder his answer. Then, not turning, he told her, "Nick," and left. She went to the hall only to discover it was completely empty. Only a slight breeze remained. She slowly walked back to her desk, and thought, 'I've got to figure out what to do when he returns. Now at least I know his name, well, maybe it's his name.' Putting her head in her hands for a second, she tried to clear her mind, and then returned to her work. It went slow with all of the extra thoughts, specifically about her new patient, running around. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. It was now Friday, and she was a little nervous. Midnight came, and midnight went. After an hour she figured he had skipped out on it, and started to doubt his seriousness, or at least his punctuality. At one thirty she decided to get her dinner, and as she re-entered to write up one of the reports, she was startled to see him sitting in her desk, apparently waiting. "I'm sorry I was late, I ended up being . . . delayed," he told her as he stood up, his voice still without emotion. She didn't know if she believed him or not, but decided she would cut him some slack. After all, she had been the one who had offered to help. She couldn't just back out of their agreement. Then, he would have a reason to doubt her. "It's okay." "What do you want me to do?" he asked. "Well, tonight I want to take your vital signs and ask you several questions. If you have any questions or comments about what I'm going to do, just ask away." He nodded and she got out her doctor's bag. "Could you sit on the examining table?" He silently complied with her request, but when she asked him to unbutton his shirt he wouldn't. She ended up listening to it through his shirt, or at least she was trying to. "How come I can't hear your heart?" she suddenly asked. "It doesn't beat, or at least not often. It's a minor side effect of being dead." At first, she thought his comment was sarcastic, but looking up at him she could see it wasn't. He was entirely serious. "Nick, you aren't dead. Your system just functions at a different level than normal humans. Do you know about how often your heart beats?" "I think it's somewhere between ten and eleven minutes between each one." 'Ten to eleven minutes!' She was surprised at its length, but did her best to not show it. Instead she asked, "Do you mind if I find out the exact interval?" He shook his head in response. Fifteen minutes later, she stood back and had achieved her goal. It had been ten minutes and thirty-eight seconds between the first beat, and the second. The beats themselves were quite strong, which would explain how he could survive, at least partly. She then decided to take his temperature. 'Temperature is simple. Read the number on the thermometer,' she thought to herself. "Open your mouth," she told him, which he did. She then stuck the thermometer in and told him not to take it out. After she checked it several times, he finally took it out and told her, "I don't think it's going to go any higher." She took it from him and nope, it hadn't gone any higher than the first, second, or third time she checked it. It still read 84.1 degrees. It was 14.5 degrees below human normal, but at least the thermometer read it. Then, she listened to his breathing, which thankfully seemed relatively normal. But soon after he explained that they only needed to breath every ten to fifteen minuets, sometimes longer, and that they didn't need to breath when they slept. Normal just went flying out the door. The blood pressure was what really baffled her though. His heart did beat, she'd even heard it, so she knew he had to have some. But, it was so low it didn't register. She was completely stumped. How could he be walking, talking, and breathing? Well, not exactly breathing. She proceeded to ask him several questions, most of which were to clarify just what was myth and what was real. He had explained that they didn't turn into bats, but didn't answer her when she asked if he could fly or not. Stakes, crosses, holy water, and other objects did effect him, and she really wanted to figure out why and to what extent. However, the part about wild roses and running water wasn't true. After another round of questions, she found it curious that the reflection of a vampire could be seen, but that it depended on the vampire and the situation. She knew from observation that he did have a reflection, at least off of the table, other metal objects, and the mirror. When he told her that he couldn't eat or drink anything, and she was disappointed. It would make it harder for her to test things. Finally, she asked the one question that she was afraid he wouldn't allow. It was the one thing she absolutely had to have - blood. "I would like to draw some of your blood so I can find out what makes you a vampire, what makes you need the blood." He winced, whether from not wanting to do it or from the thought of it she didn't know. Surprisingly, his answer didn't disappoint her. "How much do you need?" "A pint." He nodded. She expertly drew the blood, and before he left she told him one other thing, "Nick, I would also like you to write down your daily intake of blood, and come back next Friday. Don't change anything, just have what you normally have." He silently left, and she went to look over her notes then prepared a slide of his blood. She really wanted to see what it looked like. Trust - (2/4) Two months later Natalie was very pleased. They had managed to reduce Nick's blood intake to a third of what it originally was. She had recently discovered that it wasn't blood that he needed to survive. Rather, it was the protein in the blood. She still hadn't gotten any other name from him, and she hadn't gotten any major differences in his vital signs. Tonight, she was going to try something, but she didn't know how well it would work. The last couple of times he had come in he'd made some noise, and this time was no different. He entered and proceeded to sit on the examining table. This time she didn't check his vital signs, but instead handed him a mug of a very lumpy white substance. He starred at it with a look of disgust. "What is this?" he asked, looking up at her. "Um . . . I call it a protein shake. I want you to drink it." He was afraid of that. He protested, "I told you I'm not able to eat or drink anything." She knew that, but without seeing his reaction, how could she know for sure. "Please try it. I think it will be a little better than at least some things," she argued, and hoped she was right. He looked at the white substance a little longer, but ended up doing as she asked. As soon as it hit his tongue he was about ready to throw up. He attempted to swallow it, but that just made it worse and he went for the sink at slightly faster than mortal speed. This was the first time she saw his reaction to any kind of mortal food, and she was really surprised. He really couldn't eat or drink anything as he had said. "How was it?" she tentatively asked. "Better than some things. I was almost able to swallow it. But, as you can see, it doesn't stay down." She noticed some blood came up with the shake, and took the cup from him. There would have to be a few changes before she had him try it again. "Is there anything else you need?" "Oh, yes. I would like to get another blood sample tonight, and the usual." He again nodded, and she quickly got the sample and took his vitals. He was putting his jacket back on when she said, "Nick. By the way I was wondering if next week you could come in on Thursday. I'm off that week, but would still like to keep our meeting." "When?" "Same as usual, about midnight." He nodded in return. As she watched him silently leave, she wondered what he did in his free time. She didn't think he had a job. If he did, it didn't matter when he left or how long he was gone for. His interests were foriegn to her. Although she'd been helping him, she still knew nothing about him. Merely what he was, how old he was, and a first name had been revealed to her. Nothing else. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. It was now October, and she was concerned. Her patient's blood intake was less than a sixth of what it was originally, and the only effect she could see was that he was weakening. His body temperature had slowly lowered, and was now on average a degree and a half from what it was originally, a degree and a half in the wrong direction. His heart rate had also slowed down by a minute. Last week, she had noticed that he seemed paler than usual, and that he looked really tired, exhausted. She wanted to talk to him this week, and had asked him to come by as early as possible. She was glad of her request, because she ended up having to work day shift after working the night shift the day before. She had gone to work, gone home and stayed up for a couple of hours. Then, just as she was about to fall asleep they called her in, explaining that she had to go in because everyone else seemed to be sick. Next, she had come back and done an entire shift, and was now ready to go home. Go home and sleep for a long time. As it turned out, he arrived just as she was getting done, which meant she would get to go home soon. When she took his blood sample, the time seemed to slow down. He was even paler than the week before, and when he stood up he seemed dizzy. His blood intake was too low like she suspected, and he was trying to hide it from her. She walked over to one of the fridges and pulled out a pints of O-. "Here, I want you to drink this," she said, handing the bag to him, not giving him much of an option. Staring at the bag of forbidden nourishment, he asked, "Why?" She sighed at the question. He knew why. She knew because she was a doctor, and although knowing virtually nothing about his physiology, this was something she knew she had dead on. She'd bet her life savings on it. "Nick, you know why. When the blood level gets too low, you need to tell me. I didn't say anything until now, because I had hoped you would say something first." "But the cure . . ." "Nick, starving yourself isn't going to cure you. If anything, it's making your life signs slower than they already are." 'She was right. If it would cure me, I would have been mortal centuries ago.' She saw that he seemed to understand her truth, but didn't think he knew why. "Nick, drink that and then I'll show you something." She immediately went to prepare a slide of his blood, and he watched her intently. She put the slide under the microscope, and after focusing it, said, "Okay. Nick, I want you to look at it, then tell me what you see." He put the now empty bag down, and did as she instructed. He saw what he assumed to be blood cells, but they looked strange. They didn't look the same as the ones she had him look at on one of his earlier visits. Somehow they looked sick, slightly shriveled. Then he realized it, they didn't look sick, they looked starved. The lower intake was starving him, and not just on the physical level, but on the cellular one as well. "They look starved," he told her as he looked up. "Exactly. I want you to stop decreasing your blood intake, and slowly increase it." She put the slide away, and then saw the clock. The bank was going to close in a half hour, and she had a check she absolutely had to deposit. If she didn't, she wasn't going to have any money in her checking account and she'd get a fine. "Nick, I've got to go, I need to deposit a check. I'll see you next week same time, okay?" She was getting her things gathered up as she spoke, and when she looked up, she was surprised he hadn't said anything yet. In fact, when she looked at him, she was sure he was worried or concerned about something. But about what? "If you want, I could go with you," he finally said. 'He _was_ concerned. Concerned about her. But why?' she thought. Then, she realized it had to have been because of all of the bank robberies. There had been three in the past month, and the robbers hadn't been caught yet. Briefly she thought of turning his offer down, but decided not to. This way she could maybe get him to talk a little more about himself, and not what he was. "Sure, if you want to." He didn't seem to answer her, but instead silently followed her out to her car. One thing that bothered her was that he seemed to know which car was hers before she got to it. The only way he would know that is if he'd followed her. If he'd followed her, he probably knew where she lived as well. She unlocked the car and unlocked the other door for him. Once they were going, she got a little nervous. He was sitting next to her in her car looking like any other normal human being. But he wasn't human. She still knew virtually nothing about him, not even a last name, and hadn't even gotten him to smile once. She'd gotten close, but hadn't achieved it yet. "So, Nick, where are you originally from?" He pulled his attention from the window and told her, "What is now Belgium." "That means your original language was French, right?" He nodded. She was about to ask him another question when they arrived at the bank. She looked at the clock, they still had plenty of time before the bank closed. Once inside the bank, they could see that it was virtually empty. There were only two people working, and only one customer was there who left shortly after they entered. They went up to the counter, and Nick waited as she deposited the check. Suddenly, Nick looked toward the door, just in time to see three people walk in wearing masks and carrying weapons. The bank was going to be robbed. They immediately pointed the guns at the tellers, and said, "Back away from the counter now." Two kept their weapons on the tellers, while the other concentrated on Nick and Natalie. "Get down. Now!" They did as they were told, knowing that one wrong move could mean death. Nick and Natalie listened as the employees were told to fill the bag with the money from the drawers. One of them couldn't handle the gun pointed at her back, and started to panic. She couldn't believe this was happening, not to her. Suddenly the panic became too much for her, and she fainted. The robber picked up the bag on the ground and the others started for the door. The other teller reached for the alarm, and although she was able to hit it, one of the robbers fired, hitting her, and giving Nick the chance he needed to do something. He whispered to Natalie to not move, and quickly ended up behind the closest robber, taking his gun and knocking him out. Of the other two, one ran for the exit planning to get as far away from the bank as possible. The robbery hadn't gone as planned. The other first fired at Nick, then ran for the exit. Nick barely staggared from the bullet, but wasn't able to go after him. With his enhanced hearing he could hear the sirens, the police would be arriving soon. Instead, he went to Natalie who was now behind the counter trying to stop the bleeding of the woman that was shot. "Nick, can you make sure the other woman is alright?" He did so and then came back to her, careful to not get too close. He could smell the blood, and there was a lot of it. "She's fine. Just unconscious, she fainted." "Could you go to my car, and get my bag out of the trunk," she said, as she tossed her keys to him. He caught them, and after pulling himself away from the sweet scent of the hot, fresh blood, he walked toward the entrance. She could help save this woman's life, but she needed her bag. He returned barely a minute later, and opened it, passing it to Natalie. She was surprised he was back so soon, but didn't question it. "Nick, could you help me? Could you hold this over the wound while I check her heartbeat and breathing?" He just stood there, staring down at her. "Nick!" "I can't," he struggled. "Too much blood." She was about to say his name again when she realized why. He was a vampire. The blood really was too much for him. If his reaction was any indication, he was struggling as it was. He couldn't help, no matter how much he wanted to. If he did he might lose control. He waited several seconds, then told her, "But, I can tell you that her heartbeat is slowing and getting weaker, and that she probably has blood in her lungs which is making it hard for her to breath." She was surprised at his words, but passed it off for the moment. "Can you tell me if anything changes?" she asked him, receiving a nod in answer. Then, they heard the sound of others entering the bank, and two of the officers found them. "Call the paramedics, this woman needs to get to the hospital as soon as possible." One of the officers radioed dispatch, and Natalie immediately became more relieved. At least the paramedics were on the way. A couple of times she looked back to him, and he shook his head, indicating that nothing had changed. She also checked with her freehand a couple of times, just to assure herself that he was right. Three minutes later the paramedics arrived and took control of the situation. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. They both had to go to the station to give their statements. The interviews were given separately. They took Nick first, letting Natalie clean up some more. When she was done she was surprised to see Nick still there. She had expected him to have gone home by then. He stood up as she exited the bullpen. He noticed her tired appearance, and asked, "Are you alright?" "I think I'm the one that should be asking that question," she said with a yawn as she headed for the door. "After all, I wasn't shot. So, are _you_ alright?" He shrugged, he had barely noticed the bullet. It had gone right through him. "I'm fine, but I'm not mortal either." With his comment almost came a smile, but a very serious one. Again he was concerned. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired," she again yawned and then stumbled slightly. He steadied her by the arm to help her regain her balance. As soon as she seemed more awake, he let go of her arm, seeming like the boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He interrupted her thought, asking, "How long have you been up?" She looked at her watch, and was startled to find it was about ten o'clock. 'How did it get that late?' "Um . . . About, thirty hours, I think. Probably a little longer." 'Thirty hours. Thirty hours is too long, no matter if one is mortal or not.' He saw everyone of those hours in her face, her stance, and her words. She wasn't going to be awake much longer. "Well, I think you're too tired to drive," he stated, and led her around to the passenger side of her car, taking her keys, unlocking the door. She made no protest to his actions. Thirty hours was not good. 'Well, I can sleep for the next twenty hours,' she thought to herself. Natalie didn't even think about what was happening, she thought only about sleep, and immediately started to drift off. Once he was in the car and started it up, Nick was going to ask her where she lived, and discovered she was sound asleep. He softly called her name, and after receiving no response, debated what he should do. 'I could take her home,' he thought. 'But, then I would have to figure out where she lives. And, to do that I would have to have something that had her address on it.' He was going to check her drivers license, but noticed her purse was missing. It was probably still at the bank or the precinct. Without waking her up, he couldn't get it. He ended up deciding to take her to his place, although almost decided to wake her up instead. He really didn't want to take her to his place, he had to keep himself distant from her. Up until that night, he had succeeded, but his luck was rapidly slipping away. Trust - (3/4) She opened her eyes and suddenly realized she didn't know where she was. She sat up quickly, a little too quickly, and almost lost her sense of up and down. The room was very dark and she couldn't see a thing, although some outlines were becoming slightly visible as she became more awake. The room was large, and she could tell she was sitting in a relatively large bed, and that the sheets were satin. She was no longer wearing either her coat or her shoes and she faintly wondered where they were. 'I'm in someone's bedroom,' flew through her mind. She quickly looked for an alarmclock, and found one. It was 12:04 PM. She tried to remember what happened before she fell asleep, and she realized where she was. Or at least where she suspected she was. She was at Nick's. 'But, why did he bring her here? Why not back to her apartment?' By now she could see where the door was. As she approached it, she realized he might not have known where she lived. Just because he knew which car was her's, didn't mean he knew where she lived. Another thought flitted through her mind, 'If this is his place, I wonder where he is.' She cautiously opened the door, only to reveal more darkness, but it didn't seem to be quite as dark. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could make out a railing, and what she surmised was a stairway leading to a lower level. She carefully made her way down, and once at the bottom was able to make out most of the outlines of the room. Then she heard something move and immediately froze. She listened and noticed the noise was coming from the other side of the couch. She slowly walked around it, and was able to make out who it was. It was Nick. He was laying on the couch, his jacket missing, and his cuffs and collar unbuttoned. He was sleeping. She noticed that his arms were crossed above his heart which fascinated her. He was completely relaxed. He wasn't even breathing, and she suspected his heart rate to have slowed down but didn't want to disturb him. He looked more like a vampire now than ever before. There was also a vulnerability, and an innocence present, that she had never seen before. A weakness which could be the cause of protecting himself. Protecting himself from being staked by her, she realized. She watched him sleep for a few minutes, then tried to look around the room a little bit. Eventually, she ended up walking over to the kitchen area, and soon found herself opening the refrigerator very slowly. Inside were several unlabeled green bottles, all but one full, and nothing else. Blood. As she closed the door, she suddenly felt thirsty, but she already knew what was in the refrigerator. Nothing that she could drink. She reopened it slightly for a little light, and went to see if she could find a glass, if he even had any. She quickly found, and grabbed a water glass, then slowly filled it up from the sink with cold water. Once she had drank enough out that she was satisfied she wouldn't spill it, she reclosed the door to the refrigerator. Going back to the main area she saw him move once again, and this time he didn't look quite as peaceful. She sat in the chair near the couch and watched him as she finished her glass of water. Five minutes later, he was again restless, and this time he seemed to mumble something. She tried to make out the words, but she didn't know enough French to know anything else except that he was saying ‘no' to something. A nightmare. As she watched, he got more restless. Then, she couldn't watch any longer, she had to do something. She walked over to him and very cautiously touched his forehead, brushing some of his hair back. At first he pulled away form her touch, but soon fell back into a deep sleep. She watched him for another half hour before she herself fell asleep leaning against the couch. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Again, she opened her eyes to blackness, but this time she knew where she was. She looked over at the alarm clock, 4:28 PM. She again walked to the door and slowly opened it, but this time she did not see more darkness. The lighting was dim, but it seemed to fit the surroundings. She could see him sitting at a grand piano playing, and she could hear the music coming from it. She didn't recognize the melody, but to her it sounded sad, melancholy. The room was lit by candles, and the fireplace was on. Its mantle was old, definitely not a part of the building, which reminded her of a warehouse. Slowly, she realized it probably was a warehouse. She softly walked down the stairs, and got halfway across the room before the music suddenly stopped. He pulled his hands away from the keys and without turning around said, "I'm sorry for waking you." As she took a few more steps closer she told him, "You didn't. Why did you stop playing?" "I don't usually have an audience. I'm not used to others hearing me play." He stood up and walked in her direction, passing her and sitting on the couch. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't know where you lived, and I think you left your purse at the station. I would have woke you up, but you seemed to need the sleep." "It's okay. I'm the one that fell asleep." She looked around the room a little more, then her eyes again fell on Nick. Looking closer she could see what looked like a bullet hole in his shirt. Then she remembered. Remembered the bank, and the gun going off, and remembering outside the precinct. He had been shot and she forgot all about it. As she approached him, she half mumbled, "You were shot." Her hand was only a few inches from touching his shoulder when he suddenly grabbed it. He looked straight into her eyes and told her, "It's fine. It passed right through me, and is already healed." He released the grip on her hand and she backed off. She unconsciously rubbed her wrist, trying to get the circulation back into it. Seeing her actions, he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." "Don't worry, you didn't. You just caught me by surprise." After several minutes she looked down at her watch. If she wanted to take a shower before going in she had to leave right then. "Nick, I got to go because of work." He nodded in reply, and told her, "Your keys and coat are on the table, and your shoes are under it." He walked over towards a security panel, and after tapping a few buttons said, "You can take the elevator down to the bottom floor. Your car is outside." She listened to his voice, and noticed it had returned to its guarded quality which she originally heard. What little emotion she had got him to show was now gone, completely gone. She slipped her shoes and coat on, then grabbing her keys said, "Thanks. I guess I'll see you next week then, Bye." She entered the elevator and as the door closed she watched him disappear and then listened to the noise from the elevator. She wished she could have stayed longer, seen more of his place. She couldn't even recall most of the things she saw. She could still see the fireplace and the piano, but she couldn't even remember what color the couch was. 'Was it black? I think it was.' The elevator hit the ground floor, bringing her back to reality, and she got out and went to her car. Then, she realized her license was in her purse, and her purse was probably still at the station. And her check was somewhere. She didn't remember if it had gotten deposited or not before the robbery. If it hadn't, she was going to have a charge on her checking account. She decided she had to go to the station before she went to work, her license and identification might be needed, but she had to change first. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+. The next week he didn't come by. She almost drove out to his place, but figured that if he didn't come to her, he wouldn't want her to come to him. When he didn't show up the next week either, she began to get worried. He had never skipped two weeks in a row. And the few times he had skipped one she had found a typed note on her desk at work, explaining why he had missed. She never received a note for the week before, and he didn't show up again. Something was definitely wrong. Friday after work she decided to drive by, and see if she could find out why he missed. She wasn't mad that he wasn't there, but she had a feeling it had something to do with what happened at the bank. She had forgot about his security system, but when she got there she noticed it wasn't on. This time she took the elevator up, and when she got to the top she didn't know what to do. She had tried the intercom and he didn't answer, so she had just gotten in the elevator. Now she was at the top, and was starting to doubt her decision of coming. 'Why was she coming over?' She knew why. It was because he had become a friend to her. Sure they still barely knew each other, and never did anything that didn't involve his cure, but he was a friend, and she was concerned. She took in a breath, then pulled open the door. The room was alight with candles, and all of the windows revealed the sparkling night sky. The skylight allowed the moon's light to shine on the floor illuminating the room with an eery blue cast, adding to the candle's light. She found him sitting at the piano, but this time he wasn't playing. He was staring into the flames of a candelabra, one hand holding a wine glass that was sitting on top of the piano. She approached him and he didn't move. Nothing moved except for the dancing light of the flames. Only silence filled the room for several minutes. "Nick?" Still nothing. She took another step closer, "Nick?" This time he finally turned to her. What she saw made her heart skip a beat. He had a single red tear near the corner of his eye, and his eyes spoke of some lost time, a time that only he knew. She didn't even know if he could see her or anything around him. His body was there, but his mind was somewhere else, somewhere far, far away. "Nick? Are you alright?" He suddenly realized she was in the room, he didn't even know she was there, didn't even hear or see her until then. He looked at her, then glancing slightly away he told her, "I'm fine. Nothing's wrong." He was lying. That's one thing he did not do very well. At least he wasn't doing it very well then. It almost seemed as if subconsciously he wanted to tell her. She couldn't see him forgetting to turn on the security system, with it on she probably couldn't get in. "Nick, please tell me. If there's something I can do . . ." "No, nothing can be done. It was done centuries ago, many centuries ago." He turned to her and explained, "On this night almost seven hundred and fifty years ago, my younger sister, Fleur, died." 'No wonder he didn't come by, and he seemed so preoccupied. I didn't even know he had a sister.' She saw the sadness in his eyes, and wished she could do something about it. But she knew she couldn't. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." He nodded slightly and took a sip from his glass. 'Fleur, sweet flower.' This day always bothered him, had every single time it came around. Every year it got worse. This year was no exception. Suddenly she felt like she was trespassing on something very fragile. His emotions were controlling him, something opposite to what she had witnessed previous. They seemed like they could break at any second and flood forth uncontrollably. "Do you want me to go? I don't mean to . . ." "No. I wanted to talk to you anyway. You're probably wondering why I missed the last two meetings?" She nodded. "Doctor, I can't let you continue to look for a cure." At first she just stood there, stunned. 'He what?!' She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He was giving up his search for a cure, or at least telling her to give it up. "But . . ." she tried to say, but stopped. The tone of his voice, and his formal address of her confused her. He was firmly blocking her out of his life. She wasn't on the same level with him as before either. Not even the same as when she had first entered. He hadn't addressed her simply as ‘doctor' since their first meetings. He turned back to the flame. Watching as it glowed, consuming the candle and adding carbon dioxide to the air. He was like the flame. Living off of others, and giving nothing but darkness back. "I can't let you throw your life away. Life is something that should be cherished, and used to its full advantage, not wasted on creatures like me. Creatures that have no life left, and can only take and take, and never give." He blew out the candles before turning back to her. "I can't take your life away from you." "Nick, you're not. You're not taking . . ." Quickly, he turned on her, his eyes faintly glowing and a growl just under the surface. "Yes, I am! For the last six months all I've done is take. I took your time, and I took your life. You can't say your life hasn't changed, that you haven't missed out on some of the things you usually did." He was waiting for her to tell him he was wrong. But he wasn't. She really hadn't done much in the past six months. Most of her time had been spent looking for a cure. She had gone several days sleepless, looking up information and using the equipment at the university. He was right, she couldn't argue with what he said. She had spent virtually every second either working on a cure for him, or thinking about him. She had even missed most of her breakfast meetings with Grace so she could work more on her project. Standing up, he approached her, his cold eyes locking with hers. "See. I _take_ from others. I don't give anything back. You have a whole life ahead of you. I won't let it become only a few years." He turned away and went to the kitchen, putting his glass on the counter. "Nick, it is my choice that I help you. I won't let you give up like this, I can't," she told him firmly. She could see both the good and the evil within him, but the good dominated the evil. Perhaps in the past he had been evil, but she could only judge on the present, and in the present the good had no competition. He didn't say in anything in return. It _was_ her choice to help him. But couldn't she see what it would do to her? That it would only end with death, her death. "You don't just take from others, you give to others as well. I've seen it with my own eyes. The woman at the bank would have died if you weren't there. You were able to tell me what was happening, something that I wouldn't have been able to know for sure, something that saved her life. You can give to society." She was now standing directly behind him, and she placed her hand on his shoulder. "You've been a doctor before haven't you?" "Yes." Walking around to the other side of the counter she told him, "That's not taking. You can't save lives without giving. Giving them and their families a chance, a chance for their lives to continue. Nick, if you hadn't been at the bank, someone could have died, and not just that woman. Before anyone else could be shot, you stopped it. Because you knocked one out, all three are now behind bars, and a lot of people can feel safer. Nick, that night you probably saved my life as well as that woman's, and I think you know it." The room became silent, again she was right. She was completely right. He did give, but it seemed so insignificant to him, at least compared to what he had taken in the past. His emotions began to overpower him, and her presence was starting to overwhelm him. Her mortal heart thundered in his ears, tempting him. His control was slipping, and soon it would be lost. He softly whispered to her, "Please, leave." The words struck her. He was ending the conversation, and she had no choice. He was telling her to go. But was he going to let her continue to help him? "I'll see you next week then?" Silence. "Nick?" "Yes. Please, go." After a few seconds, she did start toward the door. Several times she looked back, and as the door shut he still hadn't moved. Somehow she felt like she was being dismissed. She didn't know if she would see him the next Friday or not. But, she did know that if she didn't, she would probably never see him again. Trust - (4/4) Friday came, and Friday went. No Nick. When she got home she found an envelope slid under her door. She picked it up, and in a flowing hand was written, ‘Doctor Natalie Lambert.' Somehow she knew it was Nick's handwriting. After closing the door she quickly opened it, hoping to find a letter, or some kind of explanation that he would see her next week. But inside was no letter, no note, only a check. A check for two and a half _thousand_ dollars. She checked to make sure it was for her, and it was. 'Was it from Nick?' she thought, wondering why he would give her a check. The signature and the name confirmed it. Nicholas B. Knight. The same name he had given the police when he gave his statement. The address was his. She wouldn't see him again. She had to struggle the whole weekend not to go over to his place. But, he wouldn't be there. Monday, she went in to work, but she couldn't concentrate. Her thoughts kept returning to Nick, and the check she had received. The check was his final act, payment for her time and work, she figured. But, she didn't know if she could accept it. She couldn't help but think she could have done more, could have gotten him to stay and continue to work on the cure. She hoped he would be able to find one, perhaps one day she would see him again if he did. If he even tried again. The first time they met she had witnessed his dislike for what he was, and now she knew he was quickly losing hope to become mortal. She didn't know exactly how long he'd been searching, but knew it was a long time. A long time that would have been filled with frustration, working, searching, and then finding nothing. How long would it be until he completely lost hope? Had he already? She was brought back to the present when she got a call for a homicide, and was actually relieved. Perhaps that would bring her back to reality, help her get her life back to normal. Normal? What was normal? Normal had been tossed out six months before. Once she arrived, she was told where the body was, and was immediately able to see the cause of death. A knife stab to the heart. One of the uniforms came up to her, and as she worked told her, "Warning. The detective on the case is a newbie. He's an American who just transferred up from Chicago last week. He's also a little strange." 'Strange, I wonder what that means?' "What do you mean?" "Oh, here he comes, good luck." He then walked off, wondering what she would think of the American. She stood up, immediately telling the detective, "Cause of death was . . ." but didn't get any further. He was standing before her, and wasn't drawing anyone's attention. 'What was he doing here?' Her words echoed her thought, "What are you doing here?" He pulled out his badge and showed it to her. Immediately she took it and examined it more closely. The picture and name were his. He was the detective she had been told about. "But, I thought . . ." "I've been working here since last week. I wasn't able to come by Friday, because I had to stay at the precinct." She was completely stunned. "Why?" her mind demanded, and she didn't protest, she had to know. "I had been planning to do it for several months. As far as they know, I just got into Toronto about a month ago, a detective transferring in from Chicago with a sun-allergy." She was still stunned, and he was grinning at her surprise. He was grinning. She slowly started to smile as well. Shaking her head slightly at the thought of a vampire homicide detective, she said, "Well, I see you do have a smile after all. You don't have any excuses now." She looked around, and noticed he was alone and asked, "Where's your partner?" "I don't have one." "What do you mean you don't have one?" "Exactly that. I sort of convinced Captain Stonetree to let me work alone." 'He convinced Stonetree to let him work alone? Yeah, right. He probably hypnotized him into it.' Then she realized that he had. "Nick, you did a little more than persuade him didn't you?" His smile faltered for a second, "Okay, I'm caught." She glared at him. "I'll try not to do it again." "That's better, but I think we better talk business." He nodded, and she explained what happened. Surprising, he seemed to know what he was doing, and wondered if he'd been a detective before. When they were done, she told him to come by after he got off. When he came by, she greeted him with something that looked vaguely familiar. It was thick and lumpy, but instead of being white, it was a light blue color. 'She had finally made another, what was it she called it, a ‘protein shake'?' She handed him the mug and said, "Drink it." He just stared at the substance. He didn't care what it was, blue was not an appetizing color, especially light blue. He swirled it around it a little, and watched as it barely moved. "Come on. Drink it!" He looked at her and took a sip. As soon as the taste registered he spit it out in the sink. He looked back at her, only to see an expective look on her face. She would make him drink it if she had to. He took another sip, this time managing to swallow it, although with a sour expression on his face. They both waited, and when he didn't make another trip to the sink, they were surprised. "Well, how was it?" Natalie eagerly asked. "Better than the last one. Although I think it would be better if it wasn't blue." She again looked at him, she wanted him to drink more. "I don't think I can drink anymore. I'm serious. I don't think my stomach could handle anymore." "Well, if you don't try more, how will you know?" "Okay." He stared at it for a few seconds, then took another sip. He was able to swallow it, but there was definitely a reaction to it. She visibly saw his skin lighten, and he looked a little sick. "Well, that's definitely it." He handed the mug to her and sat down in the nearby chair of her desk. He didn't look too well. "Nick, are you okay?" she said as she knelt down and looked up at him. "Yeah, in a few minutes I'll be fine. I don't think I should have had anymore though." "Are you sure?" She didn't care what he said, he looked like he was going to puke. "I'll be fine. It's going away." For the next five minutes she carefully watched him. She didn't take her eyes off of him for more than a few seconds, afraid he would get worse. 'This is definitely not the reaction I was expecting,' she thought to herself. She took the mug and tried a sip herself, and he closely watched her. When she made a sour expression as well, he told her, "See what I mean. If it doesn't taste good to you, it's definitely not going to taste any better to me." "Okay. I admit it. I need to work on it a little more, especially on taste." Then she remembered his reaction to the color. He was right, blue was not the most appetizing color in the world. She then added, "And the color. I didn't think too much about that." When she looked at him again, she noticed his complexion had nearly returned to its normal shade of pale, and that he looked a lot better. "So, what have you been doing the last week? You seemed to have made an interesting impression on some people." "Well, as you know I'm a detective now, and I started at the beginning of last week. I had to make sure everything was going to pass through the system, that's why I was so busy the weeks before. Technology makes it difficult to get jobs in certain areas. As for the impression I made on some people, that's not necessarily my fault. Some people can sense something about me. They don't know what it is, but it makes them uneasy. My eccentrices make that more pronounced. I don't exactly act completely normal in case you haven't noticed." "I've noticed. But Nick, haven't you ever done anything, well, normal?" He seemed to look at her strangely. "Okay. When was the last time you went to a movie?" "You mean in a theater?" She nodded. He thought a moment and told her, "In 1978 I believe." "You haven't been to a movie for over ten years?" she asked incredulously. He shook his head. He was serious. "Well. I have to remedy that. What do you say I bring a bunch of movies over to your place after work on Friday?" It wasn't exactly a movie, but it was more than what she expected he'd done in a long time. "I suppose that would be alright." He found a notepad on her desk and wrote something on it, then handing it to her said, "You might need this." He then looked up at the clock and said, "It's close to dawn, I should go." She nodded, and watched as he silently left. Once he had left, she looked down at the piece of paper in her hand. Four numbers were written on it. It was his alarm code. He was trusting her with his alarm code. ~fin~ Comments, questions, and suggestions to: jarvinia@gmx.com