From v4s@FKFANFIC.COMTue Dec 24 12:48:15 1996 Date: Tue, 24 Dec 1996 01:25:35 -0500 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: V4S: Christmas Knight (01/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #5 Episode Title: "Christmas Knight" "Air" Date: December 23, 1996 Author: Beth A. Washington Alpha Readers: blitherer2@aol.com, Julia Kocich , Bryan Kieft, Mel Moser Beta Readers: Sara Orel , Amanda P. Sridasome, Rebecca M'Kenna, Amy Volpert , Sandra Gray, Dawn Steele Historical Verification Group: Sara Orel Continuity: Sarah Baker Part 1 of 14 The Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season is a project whereby a group of Forever Knight fans are putting together a series of stories continuing from where Last Knight left off. Participation is open to all. For more information, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Comments should be sent to the author or to the FKV4S-L mailing list. This story will be available in its entirety as of 12/25/96 by writing to V4S05@fkfanfic.com, or from . This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1996 Beth A. Washington -------------------------- CHRISTMAS KNIGHT The television droned on, channels switching so fast that it was hard to believe the man in the chair actually saw what each station presented. His eyes plastered to the moving pictures on the screen, the man was oblivious to the pitiful Christmas decorations around the small, street level apartment, as well as the snow that fell outside. He put down the remote just long enough to reach down for a bottle on the floor next to the dirty old recliner, refill the glass in his hand, and take a quick swig. His hand came up to rub the two or three day's worth of stubble on his chin, and he resumed his channel surfing. A woman dressed in a pale blue waitress uniform with a green-trimmed, white apron walked into the room, her worn coat half on-half off, a black purse hanging from her other shoulder. She had pinned to her shirt a white name tag with neatly spaced, black letters spelling the name "Nancy". "Honey, the tips have been really good this week, and I was thinking I could pick up a small Christmas tree for the apartment," she said cheerfully as she continued to put on her coat. The man made no comment and continued changing channels. The woman didn't wait for a comment. Instead, she walked over to the window, adjusted the baby figure in the manger of the small nativity scene there. She looked outside and smiled. "Did you see the snow, John? How beautiful it makes everything, even this neighborhood." She continued to look out the window, marveling at the snow falling in the light of the street lamp. When she heard no comment from John, she turned to look at him, a frown clouding her face. Shrugging it off, she finished buttoning her coat, then checked her appearance in the mirror. The drawn, pale white face she saw there showed her all of the hours and weeks of hard work she had seen. She reached into her purse for makeup and tried in vain to hide some of the signs indicating lack of sleep. She wet her finger and slicked back a strand of her dark hair, making it neatly fall into place with the others on their way to the tight bun on the top of her head. Somewhat satisfied with what she saw in the reflection, she then moved to kiss her husband good-bye. She pulled away, hurt, when he avoided her lips, straining to see the television around her. As she opened the door to step into the hallway, she announced, "I will be home around 3:00 AM, so you don't have to wait up for me." The man grumbled. Frustrated, the woman turned and exited, slamming the door shut behind her. The walls rattled from the force. **** In the hallway of a small apartment building, Nancy left her apartment, slamming the door. She was unaware that she was being watched. With the tails of her threadbare coat billowing out behind her, she headed for the street exit. Tears streamed down her face. She reached into her pockets searching for a tissue, and not finding any, she started to go back to her apartment. After a couple steps, she stopped, dried her tears with her coat sleeve, then walked back to the door to the outside. She took a deep breath, then looked outside to the falling snow. Somehow it had lost its freshness, its peaceful beauty. She frowned as a car drove down the street, spewing slushy, polluted snow onto the sidewalk. She waited for it to pass, then headed out into the night, the bitter cold biting deeply into her wet cheeks. As the door closed behind her, a figure clothed in darkness stirred from a corner opposite the exit to the outside. The figure moved to check that the woman had gone. Quickly, in a stride that was a combination of walking and running, the hooded stranger covered the distance between the outside exit and the woman's apartment. Without hesitation, he slammed his shoulder into the door to the apartment, opening it, the wood around the door jamb splintering. He completely surprised the man watching television. Pain shot across John's face as he tried to move, but before he could manage to get up, the intruder had pulled a gun and pointed it at him. Pain changed to terror. He froze in his recliner, waiting for the intruder's next move. With his free hand, the dark figure threw back his hood, revealing a craggy face, clean shaven, one long eyebrow, topped with straight dark hair. He reached over to turn off the television. "Idleness is one of the seven deadly sins, a sin against the soul," the strange man began, "the very soul that God gave you." Puzzlement mixed with fear as John listened without moving. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his eyes never left the muzzle of the gun pointed at him. The gunman watched John stare at his weapon, and smiled slightly. "What kind of man are you that you would sit by idly while your wife works and slaves to keep clothes on your body, food..." his eyes slipped to the bottle on the floor next to the recliner, "and booze in your belly, and a roof over your head?" "But it's not--". "Shut up!" the intruder yelled, "I don't want to hear your lies. I have been watching you, and I always see the same thing. Your wife trudging through the streets of this run down neighborhood to a low paying waitress job at the local diner, dodging wandering hands and cat calls, while you sit here, drinking away the rent money and doing nothing more than sitting in that chair and watching cable." He paused and walked around the room, then over to the window. He looked outside to the snow falling in the street, then at the nativity scene on the windowsill. His countenence saddened as he reached down and picked up the figurine of the baby. John watched him in silence, afraid to speak, afraid this madman was going to shoot him in cold blood, and hoping that somehow he was going to survive this night. Maybe a neighbor would hear the stranger yelling, or heard him break down the door. But all hope drained from his body when he observed the wild madness and unbearable misery in the gunman's eyes. "God will be your judge and jury," the intruder continued as he gently placed the small figure back in the manger. Moving over next to his hostage, grabbed the hair on the back of John's head and pulled back, forcing John to look up at him. "God will be your judge and jury, and I am here to send you to him." The intruder pointed the gun, not two inches from his prisoner's right eye, and fired. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COMTue Dec 24 12:48:21 1996 Date: Tue, 24 Dec 1996 01:25:40 -0500 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: V4S: Christmas Knight (02/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #5 Episode Title: "Christmas Knight" "Air" Date: December 23, 1996 Author: Beth A. Washington Part 2 of 14 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1996 Beth A. Washington -------------------------- CHRISTMAS KNIGHT Nick Knight and Captain Joe Reese were in the captain's office with the door closed, arguing. "Captain, I never take vacations, and now the one time I want to take one, you say I can't leave?" Nick almost growling with frustration. "I'm sorry, Nick, but that's the way the ball bounces sometimes. I hate it as much as you do," Reese said, admitting to himself that this happened more than he would like. "It's just the crazies all seem to find their way into the streets this time of year. Must be the holiday season." Nick started pacing the floor in front of Reese's desk. "How many times did this happen to Schanke?" he blurted at Reese. "Every time he wanted to take a vacation, something came up. Then he had to call Myra and tell her. And then he would spend the rest of the case trying to find a way to make it up to her. It wasn't fair to him, and it's not fair to me." Then grumbling to himself, "At least I don't have to explain to anyone why my vacation has been canceled." Reese didn't say a word, but let Nick finish his complaining. Reese understood the hidden message in the detective's last comment, and he wondered to himself if the coldness that had crept up between Knight and Dr. Lambert would ever warm up again. "This time it's a vigilante who thinks he's being commanded by God, next time it will be something else," Nick stopped pacing and faced Reese, his hands gesturing with his words. The captain shook his head slightly as a disappointed look crossed his face. He had never heard Knight sound so indifferent about his job. Nick's remarks left Reese feeling as if Nick didn't care if the murderers were left to run the streets, especially now, when they were supposed to be practicing good will towards men and all. "The crime in Toronto isn't going to stop just so I can take a vacation, Captain." Nick continued. "And I need a vacation." Reese nodded as he appreciated the truth of Nick's statement. Not only would the Toronto criminals not stop for Nick's vacation, but Nick had been a long time in needing a vacation. In his head, the captian went over the list of everything had happened to Nick: Tracy's death, Natalie's attack and then almost leaving, and the heavy caseload of the last couple of weeks that he had to cover because they were so short-handed. "I agree that you need some time to give your mind a rest, Nick, but I need my best homicide detective on the job." Reese shuffled through some papers on the top of his desk. He pulled out a sheet and held it out to Nick. "Here. Read this." Nick hesitated, then reached out and took the paper. He glanced at the white sheet, then looked back at Reese. "Go ahead, read it," Reese prodded. "This guy is a real piece of work. Proclaiming himself judge, jury and executioner, and all for the glory of God. Sick. Real sick. Gives religious people a bad name, even the ones my wife keeps invitin' in for coffee." Nick's eyes fell to the hand-written page. He read the note out loud. "Envy This man was guilty of this one of the seven deadly sins. His desire for another's qualities and possessions ruined his friend's life and marriage. He took his wife, job, home, and children. This is the first of seven who will die. My gift to God this holiday season. Praise be to God." As he finished, Nick looked up again at his superior. "First of seven," he repeated. "Yup. And that means he's got six more planned. They will all be dead by Christmas unless we do something," Reese stated. "We gotta nip this one in the bud. The guy who found the dead body called the papers before calling us. The media is already running a three ring circus in our honor, or should I say, that's what they are calling us, and I'm the ring leader of the clown act. 'Toronto's Finest, Barnum and Bailey, Ruin Christmas' will be the next big headline if we don't get this guy." Reese sighed deeply in hopeless disgust over the situation they were in. He looked at Nick, his brown eyes big with pleading sincerity. "See why I need you to stay?" Nick nodded slightly. "Does Adam know?" "He's already working on it. He's got the original note. He's down having the handwriting analyzed. Maybe it'll match up with some nutcase we already have on file," Reese answered, relieved that he wasn't going to have to continue arguing with Nick about his vacation. He remembered the time a bomb was planted in his office, in a box of chocolates. Nick had talked him into going outside, leaving the detective holding the chocolate. Somehow, he knew that, if Nick really wanted to take his vacation, he'd find a way to talk his captain into letting him go, just as he had talked him into leaving the bomb in his office. He had a way with words, that one. Nick started to turn and walk out of the office, saying, "I'll go find Adam and get right to work on this." Reese nodded his approval, then just as Nick was about the close the door behind him, Reese called out to him, "Wait a minute, Nick." Nick popped his head back in, "Yeah, Cap'?" "You may want to call in Dr. Westwood on this one. This sounds like his kind of case." Nick grimaced. The captain noticed his response and remarked, "I know you've got some kind of problem with this guy, but lose it. We're going to need everyone working as a team on this one, and we need Westwood on this team...this case." "Yes, Captain," Nick responded, sounding like a little kid being reprimanded. "Anything else?" Reese looked thoughtful. "Yeah, if you catch this lunatic before Christmas, you can take that vacation. That gives you six days." The captain smiled, hoping to let Nick know that he wasn't such a horrible man to deny Nick his vacation altogether. Nick acknowledged the captain's words with a single nod, closed the door with a loud click behind him, and headed over to his desk. He looked at the calendar sitting there and noted the day's date, December 19. His eyes scanned the squares on the page, finding December 25, where he read a scribble in his own handwriting showing a flight number and time. The red-eye to France. The only way to travel. He thought about Schanke again and smiled. A uniform buzzed past his desk, dropping a red poinsettia on the corner, surprising him as the pot slammed the surface. "Sorry, Nick. It slipped," the officer apologized, juggling three other poinsettias in her arms. "Happy holidays, detective," she continued, in an almost pleading voice. Nick recognized her as a new rookie, fresh out of the academy, and smiled back at her. "That's okay. Happy holidays to you too." The rookie smiled back, relief written in her expression, and she moved on with the rest of her holiday plants. Nick watched her for a moment as she moved to place her packages on other people's desks. Picking up the phone, he was about to dial when Adam walked in and grabbed his attention. "Hey Nick, we gotta run," Adam announced, picking up his jacket and putting it on. "Another murder?" Nick asked. He held up the note the captain had given him. "Yes," answered Adam, and sensing Nick's next question, he said, "Idleness. I already called Dr. Westwood's cellular. He'll meet us there." Nick sighed heavily at the mention of Westwood. Adam shrugged, "Captain's orders." "Do you always follow orders?" Nick asked. "Whenever possible." Adam grinned broadly as Nick rolled his eyes. "Okay, I've been trying to be good lately. Captain's orders." They both chuckled. He then asked, "You driving?" Nick smiled and said, "Yeah, sure." He stood up and pulled out his keys. "Let's go." (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COMTue Dec 24 12:48:26 1996 Date: Tue, 24 Dec 1996 01:25:44 -0500 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: V4S: Christmas Knight (03/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #5 Episode Title: "Christmas Knight" "Air" Date: December 23, 1996 Author: Beth A. Washington Part 3 of 14 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1996 Beth A. Washington -------------------------- CHRISTMAS KNIGHT Nick and Adam entered the small apartment already crowded with officers working the scene. The red and blue lights from the police cars and ambulance outside flashed and moved on the walls inside the apartment, fighting for space with the small yellow lights of the lamps. Natalie and Thomas Westwood were over by the body, Natalie busy writing down notes, while Westwood talked quietly to her about the murder. Both Nat and Westwood looked up when Nick and Adam entered. Natalie returned to her writing as Westwood approached to the two detectives. "Here. This was left by the murderer," mumbled Westwood, handing a small sheet of paper sealed in a plastic bag to Adam. "Another note?" Adam inquired, taking the bag from the psychologist's hand. Thomas nodded an affirmative, "Read it." Adam quickly scanned the handwritten words on the page, then gave it to Nick, who read this one aloud as well. "Idleness This man was guilty of this one of the seven deadly sins. His laziness and indolence had forced his wife to live a poor life, loving a man who did not care. This is the second of seven who will die. My gift to God this holiday season. Praise be to God." Nick looked up as Westwood shrugged his own frustration to the detectives unspoken quesitons. How could a man believe himself to be the hand of God, believe that he was righteous enough to persecute others for their sins, all in the name of God? And was he so confident in his own righteousness, that he brazenly announced to the world his intention to kill more? Either this man was overly self- assured, or a fool. A true man of God would never have such illusions clouding his thoughts. Nick handed the note back to Adam, then worked his way over to Natalie. She looked up as he approached, nothing but calm professionalism in her eyes, reminding him of the distance she had purposely placed between them. he thought to himself, He silently berated himself for thinking such a petty thought. "Nat," Nick said in simple greeting. The doctor responded in kind, "Nick." Then looking to the victim, she described the cause of death, stating the obvious. "His name is John Meyers. He was killed by two shots to the head, one through each of his eyes, probably a .38 caliber hand gun, at point blank range. Needless to say, he died instantly with the first shot. The second shot was superfluous." Nick looked disgusted at what he saw, the bloody holes that used to be the man's eyes, and blood all over the recliner where the back of the man's head had been blown away as the bullets exited. Nat noticed his response, and added, "His wife is going to have one heck of a Christmas." "What is her name?" Nick asked, his voice flat and slightly strained. "Nancy Meyers. She's at work right now," Nat answered, with a knowing look on her face...knowing that Nick and Adam would have to be the ones to break it to her. "Who called it in?" Nick inquired after hearing that the wife wasn't home. Nat pointed to a man standing just outside the door, "One of the neighbors. Said he heard a couple of shots." Nick's eyes followed the direction Nat was pointing, and saw a man in pajamas, a robe, and slippers, standing meekly outside the apartment door, talking to an officer. Nick tuned into the conversation between the man and the officer. "I heard the shots and called right away." "Did you see anyone?" "Uh, no. I stayed in my apartment until the police came. This kinda thing happens a lot around here. I don't want to get my throat cut for seein' something I shouldn't." The man was useless as a witness. Nick turned his attention back to the body and the people moving around it. Another officer, one from Forensics, walked by Nick with the television remote control in a plastic bag. At Nick's questioning look, the officer stopped to briefly explain, "The killer's note was tucked in the victim's hand, wrapped around the remote control. We're gonna dust it for prints." Nick nodded his approval, and the officer continued his work. Sakai and Westwood moved over to join Nick and Natalie. Was that a grin twitching at the edges of Westwood's mouth as he noticed Natalie's business-as-usual attitude with Detective Knight, or was he bothered about the case? His face turned more serious as Nick looked at him, then to Adam. "Brutal, isn't it?" commented Westwood. "Shot in the eyes," added Nick, filling in his partner. Not having seen the body yet, shock filled Sakai's eyes, followed by furrowed brows and a stern appearance. He then swallowed and regained a posture of professionalism. "Dr. Westwood has told me that he has heard of another case where the killer was murdering people who he thought were guilty of the seven deadly sins." Nick looked to Westwood for confirmation, and the psychologist nodded. "I believe the guy we are looking for is a copycat killer. There was a similar case in Vancouver a couple of years ago." "Do you have access to the records from that case?" Nick asked, "Because if this guy is a true copycat killer-- " "We may be able to pinpoint whom he is going to kill next, and capture him before he does," Adam finished, smiling as if he had just found the light switch in a dark room. "Yes. I'll have to call my old captain and ask him to send a copy of the records. I could have them down here by tomorrow afternoon," Westwood explained. "Why not sooner? Why not tonight?" Adam inquired. "He's day shift." (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COMTue Dec 24 12:48:31 1996 Date: Tue, 24 Dec 1996 01:25:48 -0500 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: V4S: Christmas Knight (04/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #5 Episode Title: "Christmas Knight" "Air" Date: December 23, 1996 Author: Beth A. Washington Part 4 of 14 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1996 Beth A. Washington -------------------------- CHRISTMAS KNIGHT The sun was rising. It was the beginning of a new day, and Nick drove his Caddie into the garage under his loft. The light outside brightened, and the street lamps turned off as the garage door closed behind the 1962 automobile. The elevator door clanged open and shut as Nick entered the loft. Removing his black leather jacket, he flung it onto the couch as he reached for the remote control. As the motors hummed softly, the shades lowered, closing out the morning brightness, bringing the room to almost complete darkness. Nick pressed another button and the fireplace jumped to life, filling the room with its soft, flickering light. With the remote back on its table, the vampire inside let Nick know that it was hungry, and he walked over to the refrigerator. He only quickly glanced at the white canister on the counter and thought of the contents with distaste. Turning his attention back to the refrigerator, he grabbed one of the many green bottles within. He uncorked it with his mouth, spit the cork across the room, and then took a long draught. As an afterthought, he grabbed a glass goblet. While pouring some of the thick, red liquid into the goblet, he stopped. He had seen something out of the corner of his eye. There, on his kitchen table, was a package. Experience took over, and he stopped to listen. Vampire hearing sensed nothing, no movement, no breathing, no heartbeat. He was alone. Not completely satisfied, he checked the door to the stairs, and the locks on the windows. Showing no signs of tampering, all were locked as he had left them. He glanced up at the skylight, thought about checking it out, then changed his mind. He turned his attention back to the package on the table. The box was like a flower box, only longer. Nick smiled to himself. "Who would send me flowers?" he wondered. "And how did they get in here?" The odd-shaped box was wrapped neatly in white paper with a red ribbon going around it, both the long and short way around, with a fluffy red bow stuck where the two ribbons crossed. Picking up the box, he noticed it was heavy, much heavier than even three or four dozen roses. He checked for a tag, and found none. Curious, he checked the room again for strangers, as well as listening to the box. He didn't hear a sound. He sensed nothing out of the ordinary. Nick's curiosity was killing him. He pulled the red bow off of the box, the ribbons next, then carefully opened the paper at the ends of the package and slipped the box out of its wrappings, like a poster from a tube. He hesitated a moment before opening the box, then slipped his fingers under the edge and pried off the lid. Mounds of tissue paper filled the inside the open box. Nick pulled away the top layer of white tissue, revealing an ancient sword. Nick quickly looked away when he saw that there was a crucifix carved into the handle and blade. Who could be so cruel as to send him a present that could cause him so much pain? He looked again, eyes almost squinting as if keeping them half closed could help him ward off the power of the carved symbols on the sword. As he continued to look, recognition filled him with a brightness that began to scare away the shadows from his brow. A pleasant smile crept into the curve of his lips as he studied the sword more closely. He carefully picked it up, avoiding direct contact with its shiny metal by keeping some of the tissue paper between him and the sword. The memories of a much earlier time took over, and the room faded around him... >>----------> The kitchen was large--extremely large--and filled with scullions busy cooking and kitchen boys cleaning up the resulting mess. Assorted black iron pots hung over hot fires within large stone hearths. Through the rising steam, a young lad of around ten years of age, with dirty blond hair and blue eyes, looked around as if confused by all the commotion. He spied a basket full of warm buns, and made his way over to it. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, he grabbed one and took a large bite. A large woman, dressed almost entirely in white with an apron covering her dress and a kerchief holding back her hair, gently whacked the young lad on the back of the head. "Nicholas!" she bellowed, "You will eat later after the master and his guests have been served. If my husband catches you, he will have your head." The boy, with surprised guilt filling his expression, looked up to the woman and almost begged, "Forgive me, Corinne, but I couldn't resist. Smelling all of this wonderful food you are cooking for the Christmas feast has made me quite hungry. My stomach is protesting even now," he said looking down at his midsection as an audible growl emerged from within. Corinne smiled as Nicholas turned on the charm and his blue eyes reminded her of an injured puppy. She grumbled under her breath, ruffled his hair affectionately, then handed him the basket of buns. "Take this in to the master and his guests, and don't take any for yourself," she ordered. Noticing the look of worry on the young squire's face, she added, "There is another batch warming in the oven. I will save you one or two." Nicholas smiled his thanks, then moved to distribute the tasty morsels to the people in the other room. Corinne stopped him with a gentle touch on his shoulder. She proceeded to straighten his neat yet simple black tunic, brushed some flour off of his leggings, and straightened his ruffled hair. "One must be presentable when serving the master," the cook said, then pushed the young squire towards the door to the other room. As Nicholas went through the door, steam was traded for clearer air, the smells of food cooking were traded for perfume, and cooking counters were traded for large oaken trestle tables. The tables all faced the center of the room, and were set with fine linen tablecloths, decorated with various winter plants, holly with holly berries, and pine boughs, as well as elaborately carved wooden bowls of fruit. Nicholas couldn't stop himself from staring at the women seated at the table, all dressed in beautiful dresses, jewels decorating their necks, their ears, their wrists and even in their hair, which was combed and arranged in the most interesting of ways. He could picture each of them taking hours and hours to preparing for the feast, then being afraid to eat anything for fear of bursting a side seam in their dresses. It amused him to think of these women, picking at their food like birds. Course after course came out of the kitchen, starting with various fruits and fruit dishes, changing over to meats such as chicken, lamb, pheasant, fish, duck, and stew, with some elaborate vegetable dishes mixed in. Later in the evening, there would be more fruit with mulled wine and a wide selection of dainty sweets. The scenery on the table changed every twenty to thirty minutes, with the replacement of empty serving dishes by full ones. Nicholas smiled inwardly as he watched the men devour everything in sight, while the women nibbled a little here and there while chittering almost non-stop with their neighbors. Remembering his task, Nicholas started walking around the table, allowing each guest to take a warm bun from the basket. Each person greeted him in turn, then returned to the cheery conversation at the table. When he got to the center of the high table, the gentleman with hair like his and a beard to match turned to the boy and took a bun. "Merry Christmas, nephew," he said to Nicholas, "Are you enjoying your holiday here?" "Thank you, sir. Yes, sir, I am," Nicholas answered, though the look on his face was not very convincing. Sensing something was wrong, his uncle inquired, "What is it Nicholas? Has Corinne's husband been rough on you? Have you been getting enough to eat? Are you warm enough at night?" "No, Uncle, everything is fine," came his response. Not believing him, his uncle continued, "Is it the weapons master? Has he not been teaching you as I instructed him to? If he hasn't, I will have to have a talk..." Quickly, Nicholas stopped him from continuing. "No, Uncle. It is not any of those things. I am very grateful to be here, to be your squire. Mother said..." his voice trailed off. A knowing look came to his uncle's face, "Ahhhh. I see what is bothering my little nephew, Nicholas de Brabant." Nicholas looked up at his uncle, a little surprised, waiting to hear what his uncle would say next. "You are missing you mother and father...and your sisters, Lyra and Fleur, as well." He pulled his nephew closer. "I can understand your homesickness." "I am not homesick!" Nicholas corrected him sharply, looking away, hiding the tears forming in his eyes. He did not want his uncle to think he was emotionally weak. His uncle chuckled, "Of course not, my little knight. But it is not dishonorable to miss your family." He waited for a response, and got none. He continued, "I missed my family terribly my first Christmas away from home, and..." he looked around as if checking for spies, then continued, "...I was intensely homesick as well." At that, Nicholas turned to look at his uncle, his eyes asking for verification. The older man nodded. "It's true. And do you want to know what I did?" His nephew nodded his head vigerously. "I worked extra hard, did the best that I could, so that my mother and father would be proud of what I had made of myself. If you do the same, I am sure my sister and her husband will be very proud of their son!" <----------<< The loft returned around him, and Nick walked away from the table with the sword still in his hands. He moved over to the fireplace, where he gently placed the sword on the mantel. He stood there and looked at it for a while, watching the light from the room dance within the depths of the red ruby mounted at the base of the hilt. The way it sat there, it reminded him of where his uncle used to keep it, hung carefully on the great wall in his keep. "Now it's here," he sighed. His mind wandered as he wondered who had left the sword on table, and who would know enough about his past to connect him with the sword. LaCroix? What would be his motivation to give Nicholas a Crusader's sword? A sick joke maybe. A clever scheme. Whatever the reason, he loved what it meant and the memories it brought back to him. Remembering his dinner, he meandered back to the table, picked up the goblet, and drank. He glanced back at the sword with its shining beauty and pleasant memories. It reminded him of the time before he was a vampire, before the innocence of childhood had had a chance to dissolve away to manhood. It all made the cow blood taste more bitter than usual. He corked the bottle and put it away, and with a grimace, he finished what was in the glass with one swallow. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. From v4s@FKFANFIC.COMTue Dec 24 12:48:36 1996 Date: Tue, 24 Dec 1996 01:25:55 -0500 From: Virtual Fourth Season To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: V4S: Christmas Knight (05/14) Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #5 Episode Title: "Christmas Knight" "Air" Date: December 23, 1996 Author: Beth A. Washington Part 5 of 14 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1996 Beth A. Washington -------------------------- CHRISTMAS KNIGHT The precinct was a nest of activity, full of the hustle and bustle of phones ringing, people talking, computers beeping, and people coming and going. Adam watched as Nick noticed the rookie from the night before. She was hanging decorations around the bullpen and Nick took a moment to greet her. "Meredith, is it?" he asked her. She looked down from her work and saw the detective, "Yes, sir. Dana Meredith." She smiled, admiring his eyes, and the cheery light dancing there. "Is there something I can do for you, Detective Knight?" "No. Just wanted to compliment you on what a nice job you're doing decorating. Tough duty!" Nick joked. "Yeah," She smirked, "But it's better than being out there..." her eyes glanced at the darkness outside, "...with that lunatic." Nick nodded his agreement, his cheery mood sobered back to reality. He stepped further into the bullpen and saw his new partner, for that was how he still thought of him, as well as Natalie and Westwood. They were all crowded around Adam's desk, poring over what appeared to be a pile of records. Adam was the first to see him. "Hey, Nick!" "Hello, detective," Westwood chimed in. Nat looked up from the file in front of her. She smiled at Nick and gave him a short wave, then returned to her work. It was what Nick had come to expect from Natalie, but the distance she had placed between them, even when they were only feet apart, still sent a painful ache to his cold heart. Grabbing a handful of manila folders, Adam shoved them in Nick's direction and explained, "Westwood got the files from that case he mentioned last night, the other seven deadly sin killer, and we've just started going through them." Nick took the folders, sat down at his desk, and asked, "Found anything yet?" "No, not really," answered Adam. "As I mentioned, we just got started about ten minutes ago." "Did you find out anything from the handwriting analysis?" asked Nick. His eyes wandered to Westwood as the psychologist moved in closer to Natalie. "Only what we already knew, that it was written by the same person who wrote the Envy note," Adam answered, following Nick's eyes to Westwood and Natalie. He didn't understand why there was a coldness between Nick and Dr. Lambert, but this wasn't the time to try and figure it out. He needed his partner to concentrate on the matters at hand, and not worry about just how close Dr. Westwood was standing next to the Dr. Lambert. Nick addressed Nat directly in what appeared to be a desparate attempt to pull her attention away from Westwood, "So, Nat..." She looked up at Nick. "I see you're a detective now. Is there no end to the talents you command?" Natalie's piercing look at Nick softened as she seemed to recognize his effort to be funny. She smiled and rolled her eyes upwards. "I've been promoted," she said with mock pride. Dr. Westwood filled in for Dr. Lambert, and Nick looked annoyed. "I asked Dr. Lambert to join us to see if any of the forensic evidence was similar to what she's seen so far." Nick only shook his head slightly, eyes glowering with disapproval at Westwood's interference. Adam watched the exchange, and decided it was time to get Nick back on track. Trying to get Nick's attention, he changed the subject for a moment. "I heard about Reese canceling your vacation," he began, "Bummer. Where're you planning on going? Anyplace special?" Nick glanced at Adam, realization of what his partner was trying to do reflected in his eyes. He simply answered, "France." "Oooo, la la!" jested Adam. "Going to spend the holiday on the French Riviera with all the beautiful babes? You gotta be careful with those women. They'll tear your heart out and eat it for lunch." He laughed. Nick gave him a sharp look of disapproval, and he stopped laughing abruptly. he thought. Nick looked back at Natalie as Westwood talked softly in her ear. They were talking about the case, but Adam could tell that it didn't matter to his partner. Nick didn't like Westwood so close to Natalie. Natalie looked up to see Nick's response to Adam's joking, their eyes met, for a moment. She looked away first. Nick then absently corrected Adam's joking comment. "No. I spent a lot of time there as a kid." >>----------> Later in the evening, Nicholas was busy cleaning up after the large feast. The bread trenchers that had been used as plates he collected for distribution later to the poor. The wooden trenchers, serving bowls and metal plates, goblets, and serving spoons were all taken to the kitchen to be washed. He swept up the scraps the dogs didn't want from the floor underneath and around the table, then wiped them down. The guests were leaning back in their chairs, sipping mulled wine and nibbling assorted sweets, ignoring the blond serving boy completely. The conversation had quieted as a young minstrel took his place in the open area fenced in by the tables. He sang various tunes, some Christmas oriented, some not, all in Latin. While he played the lute, he was joined by a young woman on a harp, who, Nicholas assumed, was his wife. Nicholas paused during his cleaning to listen a moment to the music. When they reached the refrain, the woman joined in, singing harmony, and it felt as if an arrow had been shot through his heart. She sounded like his older sister, Lyra. Oh, how he missed her. His uncle looked over, and the squire quickly returned to his cleaning. He gathered up a couple of trenchers, and in his urgency he knocked a bowl of salt to the floor, spilling its precious contents. The music stopped, and all of the guests turned to look and see what the disturbance was all about. A few guests gasped at what he had done, but no one said a word as eyes turned to the host of the feast to see how he would react. Nicholas' uncle stood up and addressed the musicians. "Please continue." He then turned back to his guests. "Drink. Eat. Enjoy the music. Please excuse me for a moment." He walked over to where his young squire was hastily trying to clean up the grains of salt and place them back in the bowl. Softly he spoke to his nephew, "Nicholas, what has happened here?" Nicholas, startled, hit his head on the table as he tried to crawl out from underneath it where he had been cleaning. He brushed himself off quickly and rubbed his head where he had bumped it. He looked embarrassed in front of his uncle. "Sorry, sir. I must have accidentally bumped it. I am cleaning it up right now," he said hastily. He started to bend down to continue, but his uncle stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Leave that, for now," he said, his voice still low and soft, his strong blue eyes capturing Nicholas' gaze and holding it. The woman started singing again, and he noticed the boy's eyes wandering over to her, tears brimming on the edge, but not falling. He admired the strength his little nephew had, trying to stand like a man, even when his feelings wanted him to do otherwise. "She does sound very much like Lyra, doesn't she?" he said, showing Nicholas that he understood his sadness, even though he was trying hard not to show it. "Does she still sing on Christmas in your home, or is she married and making her own home now?" The young boy turned back to his uncle and looked surprised at his insight. Surprise faded to reality, and he nodded, "She is still home and she still sings. Mother says it won't be long now until she is married and a mother. She has many suitors." His eyes returned to the woman as she sang solo for a verse. "Well when she is gone, your new baby sister, Fleur, will have to learn the songs," his uncle suggested. Nicholas only vaguely acknowledged the older man's words, as he listened to the woman singer with his full attention. "Nicholas..." his uncle said, taking his nephew by the shoulders with both hands and forcing Nicholas to look at him. "I have something I've been meaning to show you. Come with me." Nicholas followed his uncle over to the high table, to his uncle's chair. Absently, he brushed at imaginary flour spots on his clothes. He was very conscious of the guests all looking at him, especially the woman playing the harp. He watched his uncle's every move, afraid to look anywhere else. His uncle reached up to one of the many swords mounted on the wall behind the high table. He gripped the hilt firmly in one hand, and rested the blade in the palm of his other hand as he brought the sword down so Nicholas could look at it. "This was my father's sword, your grandfather, and now it is my sword," Nicholas' uncle explained, and his nephew's eyes grew wide with admiration as he looked at the beautiful artwork carved into the hilt and blade. The red stone at the base of the hilt reflected the glow from the candelabra with an almost cheerful dance of light. Nick was so captured by the sword that he did not notice that the music had stopped and the guests where watching their host and his nephew with wondering interest. "It's beautiful," Nicholas whispered, "May I hold it?" he asked, looking up to his uncle's face, eyes full of hope. "Yes, you may," came the answer as the older man placed the sword in his nephew's trembling hands. "From now on, it is your job to take care of this sword." Nicholas struggled with the weight of the sword. He looked at it, then to his uncle, then back to the shining blade. His uncle continued, "You must keep it clean and sharp, and you must bring it to me whenever I require it." Nicholas was flooded with happiness. Was it a dream? "Do you mean it? You want me to take care of it for you?" he asked. The older man nodded with a smile. "Oh thank you, Uncle...um, I mean, sir," Nicholas said, quickly remembering his manners to his lord. "Thank you. I will do my very best!" he added with enthusiasm. His uncle chuckled and ruffled his hair. A look of irritation skipped across Nicholas' face as he wondered to himself what it was about this household that people kept ruffling his hair. Resting the tip of the blade on the floor, he straightened his hair quickly with his free hand. His uncle chuckled again and winked at his guests. "I know you will do your best, Nicholas," his uncle affirmed, "And if you continue to do your best, by the time you are old enough to become a knight, the sword will become yours." The young lad was overtaken with joy, so much so that he nearly dropped the sword as he lost all decorum and jumped up to hug his uncle. he thought to himself. <----------<< (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com.