"Holiday Affair"

By DJ Dubois

Written December 2000

Note 1: The characters "Forever Knight" are owned by Sony TriStar. Xena and Gabrielle are from "Xena Warrior Princess" which was created by Rob Tapert and John Schulian. All other characters are mine and are fictious. Any use of real names is purely coincidental.

Note 2: The inspiration for this story came partially from listening to the Boston Camerata's "With Joyful Noise: Christmas Music of Eight Centuries". The "Gedonis Area" to which Nick refers in Chapter 11 is from the medieval part of this collection ("A Medieval Christmas" Elektra Entertainment, 1975).

Chapter 1 (October 1996 1 month before "Climax")

Nick stared out of his loft's center window at the city of Tucson. He was depressed. Very depressed. It seemed as if life dragged him along like a bad voodoo doll, letting him feel good for about ten minutes before dropping him like a bad habit. At least, some things never changed.

"I wonder why Nat and I ever left Toronto?" he sighed. However, he knew the answer to that query already. He would have left of his own accord with LaCroix, but Nat confronted him in the loft up there. After nearly killing her and being staked himself, Cybelle had transported them to the University of Arizona's medical center where the Duboises had helped their two friends to recover. Then, he had discovered that Tracy was back, and that they were partners once again.

She had also figured out that he was a vampire. Things were definitely looking up at that point.

However, the last two months had been rough. There had been two unsolved homicides on the south side of town. The captain, Miguel Ramirez, was not a man who liked loose ends. Despite his usually affable nature, the superior was very testy towards his two newest detectives. Tracy grew more and more frustrated with each passing day. Nick imbibed twice as much cow blood as normal. Fortunately, Nat kept their spirits up as best as she could, given the circumstances.

Then, in the corner, his alarm went off. 8PM time to go to work.

"Let's see if there's any news about the case," he mused, throwing on his coat, and heading for the elevator.

Natalie leaned over the body of a 65 year old Hispanic man. He had been stabbed several times in the chest, leaving no doubt as to the cause of death.

She spoke into the microphone loudly, "Subject's name is Esteban Gutierrez. He is Hispanic, about 6' 1", 205 lbs, and seems to be in excellent health... I'm looking further." As her scalpel cut into the lung, she struck a pile of ash. "Scratch that last one," she thought to herself. "This guy's like a chimney. Geez... I guess if the stab wounds didn't kill you, then the smoking would have done the work at some point."

Then, an eerie feeling came over her. It was the same thing, every time that Nick was about to enter the room. She definitely needed to find out what had happened to her as a result of their "last dance" in Toronto. "Nick, are you out there?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes, I am," he replied and entered the examination room. He looked about the room, and then, at her.

"Okay, what's up?" she inquired.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same question," he informed her. Something was bothering her. But, with everything on his mind, the detective decided to let the matter slide, at least for now.

"I have an ID on that second John Doe if you're interested," she told him. "His name is Esteban Gutierrez. I'll have the report upstairs within a couple of hours."

He smiled. Having that information in hand would get Ramirez off of his back at least. "Sounds great," he stated. "I'll go tell Tracy. Well, see you in a while." He waved and walked out of the room.

Natalie stared at the door through which he had exited. Despite the initial optimism of starting over, his mood had reverted back to the Toronto norm. If she didn't know better, she would have claimed that LaCroix was sending bad vibes at him. She decided that something needed to be done about Nick's state of mind before he drove them all over the edge.

Miguel Ramirez leaned back in his office chair and sighed deeply. He was being way too hard on Miles and Brown. After all, they had spent long hours dragging the streets for clues. Was it their fault that there were none to be found? He couldn't buy that theory. Those two new detectives were like bloodhounds. Over the previous six months, they had cracked cases which the day guys had struggled over for a while. Certainly, if he gave them a little more time...

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. "Yes?" he answered.

"Captain Ramirez? It's Dr. LeBeau with the report on that John Doe. May I come in?" Nat asked.

"Si. Please do! The door's open," he assented.

Natalie opened the door and walked in. Given all of his huffing over the past two weeks, she was a little leery about Ramirez. "Well, I have the report right here," she explained, handing him a file folder. "His name is Esteban Gutierrez."

The captain took a moment to flip through the file's contents. "Nicely done, Doctor," he complemented.

"Thank you, Sir," she managed a smile.

He peered over the top of the folder at her curiously. "Would you like to take a seat, Dr. LeBeau?" he offered.

"I would. Thank you," she accepted and sat in the visitor's seat in front of the oak desk.

After a couple more minutes of studying her remarks, Ramirez shut the folder and looked at her. "This is our first serious lead in this case. Have you shared this with Detectives Miles or Brown as of yet?" he smiled knowingly.

"Nick only knows about the victim's name. I only finished the report ten minutes ago," she explained.

He put his hand up in front of her. "Look, Doctor. I know that I have been really antsy lately, especially to you new folks. I guess that I owe you all an apology...," he started.

"Well, that's okay. We're new to this precinct, and you're getting used to us," she assured him.

"That's true, but...I guess that you three have had such an amazing run since your arrival. You've spoiled me. Somehow, I knew that the three of you would have a great connection," he chuckled. "And I'm glad that you do. One last thing, I hope that you three feel at home here. You're top-notch in my book. Keep up the good work, and please, let the detectives know that as well," Ramirez complemented.

She nodded, managing not to let out a sigh in relief. Ramirez was very observant, and had obviously picked up on the interactions between the three friends on that first evening. Fortunately, he seemed to chalk it up to coincidence. "Thank you, Captain," she concluded, standing up and walking quickly out to the bullpen area.

Ramirez only sipped his coffee, and stared out of his window at the two detectives. Despite their idiosyncrasies, he refused to mess with a good thing...

Nick and Tracy watched their friend come out of Ramirez's office with a bemused look on her face.

"Hmm, I wonder what the captain said to her?" Tracy inquired.

"He probably grilled her for info," Nick shrugged. "She has some information on the case."

That was news. At hearing Nick say those words, she perked right up. "Really? Well, it's about time that somebody started making some headway."

Natalie reached their position. "Hey, guys. I just came from the captain's office. He...well...he liked the report."

Nick smiled, "That's great, Nat. At least, somebody's satisfying him these days."

Tracy stared at her partner and then, at Natalie. As with the coroner, she had noticed Nick's reversion into Mr. Mope and dealing with him in that state was depressing, if not bordering on unbearable. "What else did he have to say, Natalie?" she probed.

She grinned, "Well, you aren't going to believe this one. He apologized for being such a grump."

"No way!" Tracy exclaimed with surprise and then, remembering that they were still in the precinct, made sure that nobody was in earshot.

"He wanted me to tell you that he thought that we were a great group. We just raised his expectations a little too high is all, and that, we need to keep up the good work," Natalie related.

Nick looked up at her in disbelief. "Really?" he asked.

"No lie," Natalie confirmed. Then, she leaned close to them both and whispered, "He senses a connection, but he's willing to let it go at that."

Those words were certainly a relief to the two detectives. At least, the grouchiness should start to fade away in short order. Maybe, if what Natalie said was true, then things might actually be easier to handle here in the Old Pueblo after all.

Chapter 2

Meanwhile, across town at the University of Arizona library, a mixed group of administrators, faculty, and staff sat around a table, deliberating on a topic of vital importance. Just two months earlier, Dr. Harold Pumberbroke, the esteemed night curator of the U of A's Fine Arts museum, had passed away in his sleep at the age of seventy. While serving in that capacity for 35 years, Pumberbroke had proven to be a stabilizing force both in the museum complex and around the campus. Now, the group around the long cherry table in Dr. Caitlin Sommers' conference room

would be in charge of finding a replacement. Somebody with the right experience to step into the venerable curator's shoes, but yet, have youth and enthusiasm to boldly strike out in fresh directions. For all of his finer qualities, the old man never had the background in Central American art. His successor would have to possess that talent.

The committee members all looked expectantly to the head of the table. There, David Dubois sat, carefully observing the proceedings.

"Okay, Dave," Roy Carleton, the History Department's representative, presumed, "We've been around the table a few times. What do you think?"

Dave glanced at each of his colleagues. Despite his youth, the other members, his former professors and some current associates, had voted him to be their chairman. He cleared his throat and stated, "Let's look at the grid, shall we?"

The committee turned their attention to the white chart behind Dave. For his part, the latter rose from his chair, and walked over to the display. "Let's see...We have Michaels, Nourani, Wright, Davis, and Harris left on the board," he summarized. "What do we know about them? Francesca, do you want to start?"

"Sure," Dr. Francesca Alvaro, the Modern Languages representative, agreed. "Nancy Bradley and I talked with the first two candidates." She produced two files and, after opening the first one, continued, "Concerning Alphonse Michaels, he is very knowledgeable about his field and such, but he didn't seem that interested in Pre-Columbian art. As for Naima Nourani, her specialty is Middle Eastern archaeology. I was very impressed with her telephone interview. She seemed to be very much in line with what we're looking for. Her only weakness is that she

does not have the strongest background in Pre-Columbian art. However, she did express a willingness to learn more about it." Then, she turned to her colleague, "Did that cover everything, Nancy?"

Dr. Nancy Bradley, the English Department liaison, concurred. "Definitely. I would add one other thing on Michaels. He definitely seemed to be very hesitant about coming here to Arizona."

Dave scratched his chin as he weighed these reports. "Okay," he directed. "Lynn, what did you and Karl arrive at with Davis and Wright?"

"Well," Dr. Lynn Davis, the Sociology Department's chair. "It's funny, but, just as with Michaels, they seemed qualified enough, however, they lack the flexibility and the desire to adapt to our situation."

"Right," Dr. Karl Beemus agreed, "You know, I don't think that people really take the time to read a job ad over carefully before they apply anymore."

Dave picked up the copy of the ad in front of him, and gave it a quick scan. Karl had a point, because the qualifications which the members had elaborated on were included right there in clear black 12 point font. Certainly, this post was a pretty nice position for someone to get their hands on. He shook his head and chuckled.

"Sorry, David," Caitlin inquired. "What's so funny?"

"My apologies," he surmised. "I just thought that the fact that this was a night curatorship might have something to do with their sudden lack of enthusiasm."

The other members considered this observation very carefully. Yes, there might be something to that point. But, if the candidates weren't willing to adjust, then the committee would have to look elsewhere for their person.

"Now, about Alyce Harris," Dave noted, making the transition into the final candidate's synopsis. "Francesca and I talked to her yesterday. She seems very knowledgeable, is equally skilled in European, Middle Eastern, Asian, and American art and archaeology. In fact, her specialty is Pre-Columbian art. Would you like to add anything, Francesca?"

She nodded, "She likes to work at night. And, unlike most of the others, she would love to come here."

That comment stirred the folks around the table, and urged them to consider this last candidate's vita once again.

"She's at the Universite de Orleans," Lynn added.

Everyone seemed to agree with that synopsis. True, it wasn't University of Paris, or the Sorbonne. But, Orleans wasn't that far behind its brethren. Besides, if Harris were able to handle being the only specialist in pre-Columbian studies in that facility, a role that she had pulled off with flying colors for the previous five years, she could certainly do it at the U of A.

"So, are we ready to vote on who we want to bring in for interviews?" Dave queried his comrades. "If so, rank the candidates on your sheets, fold them up, and pass them to the front."

The group took five minutes to scribble out their numbers and to pass along their notes to him.

"Okay, thank you, everyone," he told the others. After giving the votes a shuffle on the table, he opened each one individually, read it, and wrote the numbers on the grid. When he had finished, the five candidates were aligned properly. However, interestingly enough, Harris and Nourani were ahead of their counterparts by a significant margin. In the committee's estimation, they would have to be the two finalists for the position.

"I guess that we have two people to invite in for interviews. Look for my email in the morning. Thanks again, everyone. I really appreciate the hard work. Have a great night," he concluded, and adjourned the meeting.

Caitlin tapped him on the arm. "David, I'll have Sue-Anne work on those arrangements."

"I appreciate that. Thank you, Caitlin," he expressed to his boss.

"Anything to make the process run smoother," she assured him. "You're doing a great job as Chairman."

"Thanks. I appreciate the complement. Well, I have three kids to get home to. So, if you don't mind, Francesca and I will take our leave. See you tomorrow night," he smiled. Then, he and his cousin left the room for the Cherry Avenue Parking Garage where his Subaru waited.

About 7 AM on the following morning, Angie slid out of bed carefully. Her husband had come in late from his search committee meeting and, since Caitlin had given him the morning off, she wanted to let him sleep in. Slipping into her robe, she padded into the kitchen.

However, before she could start measuring out her coffee, there was a knock at the door. "I wonder...?" she queried. "Yes?"

"Angie, it's Natalie. Can I come in?" Natalie identified herself.

"Certainly," Angie agreed, opening the door, and allowing her friend to come in. "I was about to put on some coffee, or I can get you some juice, if you'd like..."

"Juice would be great, thanks," Natalie accepted the offer, and a tall glass of orange juice a moment later.

"Now, take a seat, and tell me what's going on. How's work been going?" Angie asked, noting her friend's concern.

"Oh, it's been rough the last few weeks with this latest case. But, I made some headway last night. Angie, you should have been there when I gave Ramirez the report. He actually apologized to me for what had happened. I feel really relieved that he still holds me as well as Nick and Tracy in high regard," Natalie explained.

The oncologist smiled, "I told you that it was just a case of nerves. I think that you'll all be okay."

Natalie glanced at her with an unsure look in her eyes.

"Now what?" Angie probed. "What else do we have to worry about?"

"Oh, it's Nick. He's getting depressed again. Angie, I can't understand it. He was so happy when we came down here, and that Tracy would be working with us. However, the last few weeks, he's been slipping back into his malaise again. I wish that we could do something for him," Natalie commented.

Angie glanced towards the bedroom where she had heard Dave rising for some reason. "Honey, put something on. We have company!" she advised.

"Okay," his voice mumbled sleepily. When, he came out of the bedroom, he was dressed in his sweats. "Morning, Natalie. What's going on?"

"I was just asking for ideas on Nick's mood. Have you noticed it?" she probed.

He pushed his way through the sleepy cobwebs still obscuring his head. "Well, he has become more solitary recently. I guess that I have been so busy that I didn't really notice. My apologies," he noted.

"Natalie was just saying that we should do something for him, but what?" Angie inquired.

Dave's eye looked around for ideas. Yes, they should do something. But what? What would the theme be? And, was there time to put something together? Thanksgiving was only two days away at this point with Christmas following...

"That's it!" he exclaimed, jumping up and startling the two women.

"Dave, settle down, or you'll wake the girls," Angie admonished. "Now, what's cooking in that head of yours?"

"Natalie, you have the right idea. I think that we should have something for him, and I think that I know what," he stated, walking over to the music rack and choosing a CD. He walked back over to the ladies. "Here," he urged.

The ME read the CD case. " 'With Joyful Noise: Christmas Music Throughout the Ages'? Okay, so it's historical Christmas music. What are you getting at?" she asked.

Angie looked at her husband and guessed, "Uh, Dave. You wouldn't be thinking what I think that you're thinking, would you?"

"Why not? I think that a Medieval-style Christmas would be a blast," he shrugged.

"You know, Dave, you might actually have something there! Let's go talk to Francesca and see what we can come up with," Natalie agreed. Then, after a brief yawn, she rose from her chair, and started for the door. "Thank you both for the suggestions. Let me talk to Tracy. I think that she will want to help us as well. Well, take care." She waved, and departed for her apartment across the complex.

Angie glanced at her husband and sighed, "Do you know what you're getting yourself into?"

He shook his head, "No, but I think that Nick hasn't had a real Christmas for a while. Besides, I think that we can get Cybelle to chip in as well. With two medievalists, a Celtic priestess, and an ancient Thracian Warrior Princess working together, I think that we can plan something simple yet special enough for our friend." He yawned grandiosely, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going

back to bed since I have to work until midnight and we have that panel coming up."

"Sure. See you later," she agreed and watched him meander back into the bedroom. She smiled. Leave it to Dave to find what Nick really needed. Sometimes, it just takes another viewpoint on an issue.

Chapter 3 (One Day After "Climax")

Dave stirred slowly under the covers. Monday was not a particularly good time for him on most weeks. Given the events of the previous week, this day would be particularly hard to deal with. Staring at the ceiling, he kept remembering the battle in the library. It was the first time that he had used his powers openly in Tucson. Would it cost him his job? He let out a deep sigh and shook his head.

For her part, Angie could not sleep either as she shared her husband's concerns. "How will this situation affect us?" she worried. "My, or rather Xena's, duel with Callisto really could have hurt someone. Why does it have to be so hard?" Then, she studied her companion. "He's really taking this hard. I hope that he doesn't lose his job over this situation."

Finally, the clock buzzed, telling them that they would have to face the world.

"Dave, do you think that we should get up?" she moaned.

"Do we have to?" he muttered half-jokingly.

She nodded, "Yes, we do. We have to make a living, y'know."

"Yeah, I guess," he yawned as his feet hit the floor. "Look out, New Week. Here we come!"

"You can say that again," she affirmed to herself.

The ride into campus was remarkably short. As with her cousins, Francesca's nerves were also getting the best of her. The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

"It's going to be okay, everyone," Angie assured them.

"Sure," Francesca agreed and forced an optimistic smile.

Dave stirred momentarily from his pessimistic reverie. "So, are you okay, Francesca?"

"Yes, I'm okay," she replied. "Having Gabrielle inside of me is a new experience. But, she is so nice and seems like a trusted companion."

"She is that...and more," Angie agreed.

"Xena's insight?"

"Yes, and my own prognosis, of course," Angie smiled. "Now, remember everyone, we did help to save the campus."

"And I took that trip," Francesca shuddered.

"Well, we do have that meeting this afternoon, Francesca," he advised.

"The Search Committee meeting! I had forgotten!" she realized.

"I think that you have a good excuse," he shrugged it off.

The Ford Taurus pulled into the lot by the library. "Okay, here's the library. Everyone out," Angie directed.

"Have a great day," he told her as he kissed her and Deirdre.

"Good luck," Angie added.

"Thanks," Francesca accepted and waved.

The two cousins walked up the red brick walk and stood before the glass doors.

Dave stared nervously through them into the foyer.

Francesca chuckled, "You have to go in there eventually."

"I know," he sighed.

"Dave, you did nothing wrong. Remember that. We were attacked, not the other way around," she reminded him.

"I hope that Caitlin sees it that way," he dreaded.

"I think that she will," she reassured him. "Now, go on."

"Grazai," he smiled wistfully.

"Primo," she nodded, turning toward the Modern Languages Building across the lawn from the library.

Then, he was alone. "Well, I guess that it's time to face the music," he thought and entered the library. Quickly taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the third floor, and entered his office. As expected, the message light on his phone was blinking away at a manic pace. He guessed that his email would be clogged as well. "Ah, the pleasures of being missing for a week," he mused, settling into his chair.

No sooner had he done so, then a sharp rapping sounded at the door.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Dave? It's Winnie," Winnie Henderson greeted. "Can we come in?"

"Who's `we'?" he inquired anxiously.

"Mike Rancuso and myself," she responded.

"Sure. The door's open. Come in and take a seat," he relented. He watched as his two co-workers entered and took their seats. Mike shut the door behind him before he took his position. "So, what's up?"

"`What's up' you ask," Mike started. "You are...at least as far as that little display that you put on last week."

"How did you do those things? And who were those people?" Winnie pushed.

Dave shook his head despondently. He knew that he would have to answer these questions eventually. But, he had hoped to talk to Caitlin first...

Mike probed further, "C'mon, tell us something. First, you have that confrontation. Then, you disappear for a week?"

Dave shook his head, "I'd better talk to Caitlin before I say anything."

"And yes, she wants to see you ASAP," he indicated.

"Well, I guess that I better go deal with that...and take my medicine while it's still fresh," Dave declared. "So, if you'll both excuse me..."

"Okay," she agreed. "C'mon, Mike. David, good luck."

"Thanks, guys. I'll talk to you shortly," he informed them as the latter left his office.

After locking his door, Dave walked up one more flight of stairs and walked through the door of the Dean's reception area. Sue-Anne McAllister, Caitlin's assistant, saw him immediately.

"Hi, David. Are you all right?" she inquired.

"I'm getting there, thanks. Is Caitlin available?" he replied.

She nodded, "Give me a minute." She picked up into the phone, and talked into it briefly. "She wants to see you. Go right in."

"Thanks," he indicated, and walked through the oak door directly in front of him. In the office, Caitlin sat behind her impressive pine desk, observing his progress.

"Please, close the door, David," she indicated. When he had done so, she continued, "So, I guess that the first question is how you are doing..."

"I'm fine now. But, it's been a long week," he answered.

"That is an understatement. Do you know that there have been local, state, and federal authorities crawling all over this building? I hope that you didn't do anything to incite that attack...," she stated firmly, while rubbing her temples.

He shook his head adamantly, "Absolutely not. Hey, I don't want trouble. With all due respect, you must be kidding if you think that I want to invite that kind of trouble. Believe me, I want no part of that."

"But, you are different, after all," Caitlin surmised. "Just because of who you are, you're a target. If you were anyone else, I would be drawing up your release papers right now. However, you have 15 years of great service to this university, and I witnessed your role in those events..."

"Well, at least somebody knows. I remember Alti messing with my legs, and then, nothing until I was in the foyer with you and the detectives," he explained.

The dean stared across the desk at her employee. "You mean that you don't...?"

"No, I don't. By the way, who broke the locks on the library doors?"

Caitlin looked at her young friend, "Umm, either you, or that person...Alti? shattered the locks. Then, she came flying out of the room. You honestly don't remember..."

"No, I don't," he repeated his earlier answer. "What did I...I lost it again, didn't I?" He shuddered and shook his head.

"Losing it would be an understatement. You shifted personalities out there. With your abilities, you can't afford a dark side like that," she told him.

"I have been dealing with this problem for twenty years. Trust me, unless the situation gets really dire, I don't lapse. Alti was ripping apart my psyche, my legs, my hip and my head. Under those circumstances, I lost control...I couldn't help it. I am trying to treat it, but...," he started. Then, the thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute, you mentioned my abilities."

"I did. David, we saw you leap that Roman attacker, not to mention blast that woman into the foyer," she explained. She reached into her desk drawer, pulling out a piece of paper. "I sent this memo to everyone right after the incident."

He read the directive and discovered that she had determined to keep the situation within the library. "Wow," he gasped. "I really appreciate this gesture, Caitlin."

She waved it off. "You're a good librarian and an excellent co-worker. Everyone agreed enthusiastically to this measure. Besides, having someone with your talents around here has its benefits. Now, onto other business. Any other questions?"

"About the curator search. How is that proceeding?" he probed.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled, "The committee conducted the interviews while you and Francesca were missing. Thank you for setting that process in motion. Well, since we are both on the committee, I can tell you that we have a recommendation. You can look at our notes if you'd like." She handed him a file folder.

He scanned the materials very carefully, scrutinizing answers to the key questions. Both candidates had excellent interviews. However, it appeared that one had an edge. Harris was the committee's choice.

"Normally, you and Francesca wouldn't get a vote. But, since you did talk to her, and recommended her for the interview stage, I trust that you won't mind if we forego our 2PM meeting, and make the decision since everyone else is in agreement," she suggested.

"I can't speak for Francesca, but I would definitely go along with the committee's

recommendation," he agreed.

"I thought that you would likely do so. Francesca and I just spoke, by the way. It's unanimous. Would you like to sign the committee report, Mr. Chairman?" she cracked.

He whipped out a pen, and signed the document in the appropriate place.

"Excellent. We'll have an offer out to her by noon," she informed him. "She had indicated that she would be willing to move quickly. I guess that they worked it out for next week."

"Next week?" he gaped. "That's a little soon, isn't it? I mean, don't get me wrong. I would love it if she could start tomorrow, but that seems almost too fast."

"Apparently, everything is set. It's the end of the term there, and we need her here rapidly. By the way, would you pick her up at the airport when she comes in? Her flight will be a week from today at about 8:30PM," she informed him.

"That's Christmas Eve. Well, I did have plans. But, if she doesn't mind, we're organizing a Christmas feast over at my place. An old-fashioned European Christmas dinner. Have the curator mention that invitation in his response, would you?" he explained while rising from his seat. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have some collection development matters to attend to."

"Go to it," she assented. "Thank you for coming up here, David. You're a good librarian, and I know that you're trying to contain that anger. We are here to help you. Remember that."

"I know, but thank you," he smiled over his shoulder as he walked out of the office.

Caitlin watched the door for a second before resuming her progress on the reports stacked on her desk. At least, she knew that he was trying to make progress in all regards. With that thought, she kept working on her projects.

Chapter 4

Natalie stared fearfully into her bathroom mirror. Despite the feast and celebration from the previous evening at Nick's loft, she wondered what Ramirez would say to her, Tracy, and Nick concerning their disappearance. Her mind had wrestled for the previous two days with possible explanations, but nothing thus far had sounded good to her.

"At least, I've had time to ponder this issue," she conjectured. "Dave, Angie, and Francesca are dealing with it right now." Then, she realized that she needed to check in at the Medical Center. They would be worried sick about her. "I'd best get over there," she directed herself. "Best to make sure that everything's okay, and to give Angie moral support in case she needs any."

Having come to that conclusion, she grabbed her keys and headed for the car.

Angie sat down in her office. Her computer's inbox languished under the weight of email. The desk had a pile of reports waiting on it. Her phone's message light flashed incessantly at her. Then, she heard a knock at the door. "Yes?" she answered.

"Angie? It's Lori. May I come in?" Lori Applegate inquired.

The oncologist slouched nervously in her chair. "Sure," she agreed.

Lori entered the office and quickly closed the door behind her. "I'm glad to see you. We were all concerned when you and David disappeared, leaving the girls behind," she told her friend.

Angie shook her head, and explained, "I know. Believe me, it was a serious emergency."

"Your brother-in-law explained everything. Is David okay?" Lori assured her.

"He is now. We weren't sure for quite a while," Angie commented.

"Well, we had our share of excitement here too...with Xena and Callisto," Lori continued.

"Really?" Angie deadpanned. "It must have been exciting."

[From deep within her mind, Xena smiled.]

"Too much so for me," Lori shuddered and flushed. "Those two fighting..." Then, she collected herself. "Dr. Fishburne will be glad to know that you're okay. He was really worried, you know."

"Does...Does he want to see me?" Angie queried.

Lori shook her head, "No, not right now. I think that he's satisfied with the FBI agent's story. Well, time's moving on, and I'm sure that you have some catching up to do."

"Yes, I do," Angie agreed ruefully, eyeing her desk. "See you for lunch?"

"Sure," the office assistant agreed. "See ya."

"Bye," Angie concluded. After the door closed, she sat and stared at the walls of her office for a long minute. "I guess that I should feel lucky," she thought and sipped her coffee."

" 'Exciting' she called it," Xena's voice cracked in amusement.

Angie quickly checked the window blinds and locked the door. "Xena, I guess that you heard her," she assumed.

"Yes. Those people don't realize that you and David saved their lives," Xena shook her spectral head.

"I wonder how Dave's making out at the library?" Angie inquired.

"I guess that we'll find out this afternoon," her "Roommate" supposed.

Another knock came from the door. "Angie? It's Natalie LeBeau. May I come in?"

"I'll see you later," Xena advised Angie, and faded from view.

"Just a minute, Nat," Angie informed her visitor, and unlocked the door. "Come in. What's going on?"

"Well, I was wondering the same thing about you and Dave," Nat replied. "Has the

Inquisition hunted you down yet?"

"No, Dr. F's satisfied with Steve's explanation of the events. Dave's nerves flared this morning. I sensed that he talked with Caitlin, but she calmed him down. He's been keeping himself busy since then. Would you like a cup of coffee?" Angie noted.

"None for me, thanks," Nat declined, taking the visitor's chair. "I'm still having trouble thinking of possible explanations for Ramirez. The nightmares have continued."

The younger woman studied her visitor carefully. Nightmares? Of course, the trauma which she and Francesca had suffered would take time to work itself out. "It must be Alti's doing," she diagnosed. "Believe me, that woman is enough to give anyone nightmares."

"That's for sure," Nat agreed. "Tell me, Angie. What do I say to Ramirez?"

Angie stared at Nat. "What do you mean? You explain to him that you were kidnapped. Tracy's covered because she was working with Steve Petersen. Nick, on the other hand, is the one with some explaining to do. Then again, he was injured, so we do have a cover story."

"But, Ramirez is going to have kittens over his failure to report in," Nat disagreed slightly. Still, her friend had offered her the explanation which she had been seeking. As long as Nick came up with a good story, they might get out of this scenario unscathed. "What about the case that we were working on?"

"What about it? The TPD wrapped it up while we were gone. The report was apparently filed three days ago," Angie informed her. "Face it, Nat. We're covered."

"I hope that you're right," Nat doubted.

"Sure, I'm right. By the way, I know that this is a bad time, but Dave's still planning that dinner for Nick," Angie started.

"He's kidding, right? Christmas is only a week away! To do the research, plan, and pull off the dinner? We can't pull off a full-scale production!" Nat protested.

"I think that he might be convinced to reduce it to a smaller scale. Maybe, we can do a pork roast...and come up with a few minor things? A stuffing? Perhaps a drink or a dessert? Dave's got the music all picked out, and I know that he wants to do something for Nick."

Natalie grinned, "I know that Nick would appreciate that thought. Not many people have reached out to him in that fashion over the centuries. Especially after everything that we have gone through over the past week, I think that might not be such a bad idea." Then, she stood up and put on her coat. "Thanks, Angie."

"For what?" her friend asked.

"For making me feel better. I'll talk to you later," Natalie concluded and left.

Angie smiled, and then, started in on the pile of reports sitting on her desk.

Chapter 5

Nick sipped a glass of cow blood and stared out his front window. The desert sun had set, signaling that it would soon be time for the shift to start. How would he explain his absence to Ramirez? More problems...just the kind of mess that they had come to Tucson to avoid. But, then again, it wouldn't matter where he, Nat, or Tracy went, these issues would surface again and again.

He knew that Nat had gone to see Angie Dubois at the hospital. Apparently, that visit had gone well. Dave had sent word that he had survived the meeting with Caitlin Sommers with his job intact. Hopefully, his own session would proceed in a similar fashion.

Noting that the time was now at 6:30, he pulled on his shoulder holster, and put on his coat. Time to face the music.

Tracy sat at her desk two hours later, and shuffled the reports sitting there in front of her. Sergeant Novak had told her that the captain wanted to see them as soon as Nick reported in. It had been quite a week after all. What would be one more chewing out? Unless of course, it meant that they were all fired. No, she told herself, she had to think positively.

Natalie entered the area, and walked quickly over to her friend. "Hi, Trace. I just got a call from Ramirez. Where's Nick?" she inquired.

"He's on his way hopefully," Tracy moped. "I would like to get this lecture over with and get on with my life."

"Wouldn't we all?" Natalie agreed. Then, she saw the object of their vigil walk through the door and into the bullpen. "Well, speaking of Nick, here he comes."

The other woman smiled at the use of the phrase. He certainly could cause a stir... "Hey, Nick!" she called and motioned to him.

He sighed, "She's way too eager for this conversation." He walked over to the desk, and sat in the chair opposite to Tracy.

"Uh uh, Partner," she advised. "Ramirez wants a word with us and Natalie. Let's go."

"Procrastination won't get us anywhere, Nick," Nat chimed in.

He threw his hands up in frustration. Of course, he knew that Natalie was right, and that he had no choice. "Okay," he agreed.

The three colleagues walked to the door. Nick knocked three times. "Captain?" he queried.

"Miles? Is that you? And are Detective Brown and Dr. LeBeau with you?" Ramirez's voice responded.

"Yes, it's me and the ladies are with me. Can we come in?" Nick requested nervously.

"Absolutamente! Please, come in!" the voice from within the office bade them.

Nick opened the door, allowing his companions to enter ahead of him. After he followed them, he closed the door, and sat in the last available seat.

Ramirez waited for them to settle into their chairs. Then, he asked the obvious question. "Are you three all right? I mean, Dr. LeBeau and Detective Miles, you two vanished so quickly."

"It was a difficult time," Nat replied. "But, I'm okay." She definitely wasn't going to tell him about all of the details if she could help it.

"And you, Detective Miles? Dean Sommers reported that you were injured and down on the floor. Yet, you vanished as well. I am glad to see you in one piece," he continued.

"As with Natalie, I made it through the past week. I received medical attention from outside of the area," Nick explained cryptically.

"Well, that counts for something," Ramirez stated. "Nick, Natalie, I must be frank with you both. I was not pleased with your silence over the past week. When members of this precinct are out of the building for extended periods of time, I expect updates. Natalie, I know that you were kidnapped. Detective Miles, on the other hand, could have found a phone, computer, or something to get a hold of me, or Chris Novak. Comprende?"

They nodded silently.

"Bueno. By the way, my congratulations on your instincts, Detective Miles. It seems that you were dead-on accurate, eh? Ramirez accessed.

Nick grinned at Tracy knowingly. That comment made all of the guff which he had taken from her worthwhile.

For her part, she shook her head, and muttered, "Whatever."

"That being said, the incident at the library caused us a great deal of difficulty with the State Police and the FBI. You should be grateful that Agent Petersen interceded on your behalf and was able to work with Detective Brown to find you and Dr. LeBeau," he continued.

Tracy shot Nick a smug smile and a shrug.

"By the way, that was a Roman legion, wasn't it?" Ramirez wondered.

Nick shook his head, "It was a new theatrical production. Right, Tracy?"

"Right, Nick," she agreed, mentally dancing on her feet.

The captain shook his head in disbelief. Frankly, he didn't know what to think, but since it was gone, he hoped that it would not return to his precinct area. "Whatever. You three have many reports to read," he directed. "You'd best get to them. Dismissed."

"Thank you, Captain," Natalie expressed appreciatively.

"You're welcome, Doctor. It's good to see you safe as well," he concluded and went back to his work.

The three left the office, and headed back to the desk outside. They had gotten off pretty lightly when everything had been accounted for.

"Well, that's a relief," Nick commented.

"Thank Steve," Tracy replied. "He stood up to both the Arizona State Police and Ramirez for us."

"I'll bet. Well, here's hoping that we get to work with him again," Natalie commented.

"I'll second that," Nick agreed. "Good friends are hard to find."

Natalie cleared her throat. "Well, before this scene gets too mushy, I'm heading back down into the depths. Stop by later if you'd like," she informed them and walked toward the stairs.

The two partners watched as the ME descended the stairs. Then, they started in on those reports. Being gone for a week left a lot of work to catch up on, after all.

However, before he picked up his first report, Nick turned to Tracy. "Tracy, I wanted to thank you..."

She looked at him curiously. "Thank me for what?"

"Well...For going along with me last week. Then, for letting them help me. Finally, for coming after us. I know that Natalie appreciates it, and I do too. Thank you," he stated.

She smiled warmly. Being in the desert was helping him to open up. "You're welcome. That's what friends and partners are for. You would have done the same for me," she assured him.

He nodded appreciatively before returning to his work. Tracy studied him for a second before doing the same.