History: This story was previously appeared in KNIGHTBEAT IX, published by Fenis House, a division of SPECIAL SERVICES Unlimited.
Disclaimer: The usual statement.
Archiving: Permission to archive at Mel's site. Anyone else who's interested, please ask first.
KNIGHTWATCH
By Silvercrone (L. L. Wright)
The robust, throaty snorting in a continuous singsong resonated through the dark and narrow room. Nick looked over at the sleeping Schanke. In the darkness he could clearly see the golden outline that surrounds all things living as it dimmed and hugged close to the body; a sure indication of deepening slumber. Nick smiled. Turning back to the window he continued to watch as an old cat slowly crossed the deserted and ice-crusted street.
Once across it carefully picked it's way through the mounded snow, then finally up the steps of a tired looking two-story house which was nestled between two apartment buildings. At the top step the cat sat down and started licking the snow and the wetness from its forepaws.
An overhead light flicked on. And as the front door slowly opened, the cat stood up. Like a weary warrior returned from his watch, it gave one last look to the world beyond, then turned with tail held high and trotted into the opened doorway. It disappeared into the warm, yellow light of the inside. As the door pulled shut Nick softly whispered, "I envy you." The porch light flicked out.
Schanke, still deep in sleep, rolled over onto side and the old, battered cot under him squealed in protest. The wood-sawing symphony continued unabated.
"Watchdog to Hightower! Watchdog to Hightower!" Nick dashed to the table and grabbed the mike. A quick glance at the cot told him the noise hadn't disturbed Schanke. His snoring continued.
"Hightower here. What's happening?"
"Everything's okay. No sign of the perp yet. Just letting you know Benny's stepping out for coffee and donuts. You guys want anything?"
"No thanks. We're fine up here." Nick answered, relaxing.
"Nothing? I can't believe that. The Schankeman must be asleep."
"Yeah, he's shakin the rafters."
"God, I can believe that. I worked stakeout with him one time and I was deaf for a week. How can you stand it? You're a true partner, Knight. He better take good care of you. Good partners are hard to come by. Listen, we've started a pool with the other shifts on what time the perp will make a show. One AM is still open, you two want in? The pot's over $300!"
"Alright, put us down for $50."
"Okay, Knight. I know you're good for it. Me and Benny have $50 riding on 9AM. You know Knight, I just don't get it. This guy's been on the run for all these years, why come back now? Twenty years on the lamb for homicide, if I were him, I'd keep running until I dropped dead. What's the point in coming back to a shabby home, old people who will soon be dead and a future of sitting in a stinking prison cell for the rest of my days? It jus doesn't make any sense to me."
"Konski," Nick spoke softly into the mike, "you can't run forever. You get very tired of the running. In the end, it's only the fear of discovery that keeps you going. It's the not being able to settle down that finally gets to you. You start to dream about what you had to leave behind and in the end you'll do anything to get at least a part of it back."
"Well Knight, that's you, not me. Well, okay. Give Donny Boy a big kiss goodnight for me and I'll talk to you guys later. Watchdog out."
As the radio fell silent, Schanke's snoring dominated the room again.
Down below in the street, the rear door of a beat-up, old white van that was parked in front of a three-story apartment building sitting next the cat's house, opened and a man cautiously emerged. Dressed in mismatched and worn clothing, he had all the appearance of someone whose present address was the very vehicle he had just come from. Arms hugged close to his body, trying to keep warm in the chilled air, he headed down the block for the light of the corner store.
Nick watched Benny until he disappeared inside the shop. Taking one of the metal folding chairs from the opposite wall, he set it near the window where he could sit and continue observing the apartment directly across the way.
In that third-story apartment lived an elderly couple. A grandson whom they had raised and loved and who had killed two people in anger, after two decades of silence had called to tell them he was coming home. They reminded him that they would have to call the police. He told them to do whatever they must, it didn't matter anymore, he was coming home. The old couple brokenheartedly called the police and the stakeout was set in place.
The flickering silvery light from a television screen showed through the cracks in the pulled curtain of the window of that apartment. It fluttered on and off, light and dark. It became the only thing that gave a sense of movement in the motionless world outside of Nick's window. Schanke's snoring with its rising and falling metronomic beat added to the growing atmosphere of ennui that lay heavily in the room.
"You know Schanke," Nick began talking, trying to break up the monotony that had settled about him. "We've been together for maybe four years now. I know a great deal about you. But what do you know about me?" The husky resonance from the huddled figure on the cot rumbled an answer. Nick sadly chuckled. "That's right, nothing! I know you are used to things being different. Your partners being more like yourself. There's openness and vitality about you that I've grown to admire, even envy at times.
"This hasn't been easy for you. As partners, we are certainly not the best combination. Stonetree used to laugh and call us the 'odd couple of homicide". Cohen is still trying to figure out just how we get the job done since we're always at odds. Never seeing the case the same angle at the same time. Even with all our differences you have still treated me with the same trust and consideration you treat others. You even made me an unofficial member of your family. You don't know how much I appreciated that.
"At first, I didn't want to be saddled with a mortal partner. Too dangerous. Between catching the criminal and concentrating on not revealing my true nature, there could be a slip up and the life of my partner would be threatened. Now, I don't know what I would do without you."
The gray light winked out. Nick looked down at his watch noting the time. "Fifteen to eleven, television must be really lousy tonight."
Benny was returning, walking carefully on the slick concrete. Balanced in one hand was a paper tray holding two huge white foam cups still giving off steam, and in the other hand he clutched a large paper bag. When he arrived at the back of the van, he kicked the door. The door to the van swung open and Nick watched as first the cups were handed in, and then Benny himself disappeared inside with the door swinging shut behind him. The van rocked side to side, finally settling down as the two men inside settled down to continue the wait.
Snow began to fall and everything was turned into shades of gray and white. Nick gently tucked the extra blanket that had been left for him around his sleeping partner. The snow meant a drop in temperature and he didn't need it anyway.
Stationed once again back at the window, Nick sat with his arms folded on the wide windowsill and placidly watched as the white, fluffy flakes fell, piling themselves on the ledge outside the window. Remembering other times of snows and waiting, of friends and companions long since dead and names forgotten. He let the time slowly crawl by unnoticed and Schanke's snoring faded into the background.
"I wonder, at times, why I angst about this at all." Nick spoke to the window and falling snow. "It would be so much easier, for the both of us, if I would just go ahead and tell you I'm a vampire. But tell me Schanke, just what would you do with your partner the vampire? Would our partnership still be on the same level? Would we still be bonded together under that age-old code of trust between those who face life and death together? Would you look on me with compassion and understanding or would you only see me with fear and loathing? I just don't know.
"Oh, I know I can trust you. You would keep my secret safe but I would lose the one thing I have come to value the most from you--the sense of equality. In whatever danger we walk into out there in streets--we are equals. In whatever life throws our way--we are equal. You make me feel something I haven't felt in a long time--human. So please forgive me for continuing this masquerade a little while longer. One day, my friend, we will have that talk. I promise you."
Every light in the apartment across the way came on and Nick reached for the mike.
Schanke slid onto the front seat of the Caddy and turned to Nick.
"Okay, I missed out on the capture. We won the pool by a good ten minutes. So tell me, what else did I miss while I was sleeping?" But before Nick could give an answer, Schanke started up again. "No! Don't! Let me guess! The cure for the common cold was discovered! They're now cloning dinosaurs in Japan! And WE were abducted by little green men from Mars! Damn it Nick, next time wake me up! I could've missed something very important!"
"I keep telling you, Schanke," Nick flashed him one of his most innocent smiles, "nothing very important happen. Oh and, they're little gray men and they're not from Mars. Believe me." While Schanke stared at him with a puzzled look on his face, Nick turned the key in the ignition and the car's engine roared into life.