These are not my characters--I merely borrowed them for this passage, wherein we have an alternate universe...
IT'S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY, NICHOLAS
(Alternate ending for "Last Knight")
Natalie felt herself floating, like those soft high white clouds on a lazy summer day. And the sound--Was that those summer insects that are heard on long peaceful summer days when the sun is bright and the fields are filled with growing things?
It felt as though she had been floating, drifting high above everything in a peaceful daze. But being used to questioning everything as was her job as a medical examiner, she began to listen very closely to the sounds. At first she had been convinced it was summer insects, but no, it wasn't summer.
Forcing her mind and ears to obey her commands she listened more intently. Slowly she came to realize the sound was the hum of a respirator--her own.
Where was she? At first she seemed to have no memory. Was she in the hospital? And why?
Confused, she almost panicked, but being a medical professional and being called to crime scenes, where often things made no sense, made her force herself to think.
Nick--She had been at Nick's loft hadn't she? There had been so much the last few days--Laura's suicide; Tracy's horrible injury; Vachon's mental state after Divia's horrible attack on Urs and him. And, of course, Nick--his fight or flight reflex was in turmoil.
Nicholas Knight was a homicide detective, a patron of the arts, a good friend, a tender lover...and a vampire. It was usually the vampire part that got him in tight spots that even his "father" LaCroix and his "sister" Janette had to wrack their brains to help him. And, wanting to be his own man, he often scorned their help.
Nick had come to Toronto to be a policeman and had made good. He worked nights, kept his nose clean most of the time, avoided office parties, worked holidays and had extra abilities that only a select few knew about.
One of the select few that knew Nick's secrets was Natalie Lambert.
Natalie got Nick for a birthday present--sort of. He was brought into the lab in a body bag. Natalie was surprised there was so little damage since a bomb had gone off while he was holding it, but she was even more surprised when he drank all the blood from the bags in the refrigerator in the lab and told her to forget he had been there.
In a pig's eye, she thought. In college, they had tried that "hypnotize crap" on her at a fraternity party. Dum Dum Rubble had tried to convince her she was a stripper. She dislocated his jaw.
Nick kept bumping into her by accident. On the street, at the all-night Quickie Baggie, at the Pay and Get Gas. Then he showed up as a police detective and kept coming to the morgue as part of his work.
Natalie had switched to the night shift so she could take an Art Class at the local college. She had always felt she had an artistic side and she had felt she needed to pursue it. She didn't know if she wanted to spend the rest of her life looking at dead bodies--then along came Nick.
Nick...with his beautiful blue eyes and his golden ringlets. The face of an angel. But he fought his demons daily, hourly, minute by minute. He freely chose to work side by side with mortals. He chose freely to live side by side with mortals with their racing hearts and warm blood.
He chose to distance himself from his own kind and at times--for a short time--he could believe he was mortal. But it was always there just under the surface--the urge to kill; to drink in all their emotions--the tiny bits of humanity that made up their mortal lives.
Nick had lived for centuries killing but always there had been that nagging tug on him: "Thou shall not kill."
Nick had been a crusader sworn to conquer the unbelievers. How could he have fallen so far? A beautiful woman, "Janette" had been part of his downfall, but it was not all Janette's fault. He had been willing. So much of the fault was his own.
For at least a hundred years Nick had killed no humans, not to say she hadn't sampled a few, but nothing drastic. He had lived many lives and when things became difficult or complicated he simply moved on to a new life. Now there was E-mail, Internet, fax, video and hundreds of other inventions that would have been considered the devil's work when Nick was a child. It was not so easy to get new papers.
Nick liked his new life as a police detective. LaCroix had followed him to the city just to be near his favorite "son" and Janette had the Raven, a club, where he could go if he got lonely and wanted to rub elbows with his own kind.
Nick was somewhat stunned to find himself in a morgue. He was even more surprised to find a beautiful woman standing over him with a scalpel in her hand humming "Happy Birthday to Me".
His actions had been quick and he had been sure she would not remember him. But no-She was a resistor. One of those annoying ones that want to know everything and thought he was "fascinating," sounding so much like that Dr. Smock person on that TV show "Star Trap" or something.
He had avoided her as much as possible, but due to their respective lines of work they were literally thrown together several times a week. And, after a time they had become friends. Some thought very, very close friends. As a matter of fact, there were rumors he had a ring--a very old antique heirloom--and he was planning to pop the question.
Natalie had ceased to be annoying with her questions; Nick finally realized she had his best interests at heart. He wanted so to become human again, and the scientist in her demanded to find a cure. The woman in her screamed to find a cure.
Natalie had friends with expensive microscopes and labs farther advanced and much more sensitive than hers at the morgue. She had tried everything on Nick: herbal cures; "witches' potions" some worked for a while and some just made him sick.
Janette had found a cure but at a terrible price. She didn't recommend Nick and Natalie try it, but Natalie had brought the subject up more than once and Nick had always turned her down--FLAT DOWN.
Natalie was beginning to remember...TRACY. Tracy had been shot--mortally wounded. She had been behind Nick but the bullet had passed through him and into her.
Tracy had been in love with Vachon, a Spaniard who had been with Cortez.
Tracy and Vachon made a striking couple. Tracy with her sun gold hair and Vachon with his dark Spanish eyes and hair--Complete opposites in more ways than one. Vachon was a vampire and Tracy was human. She had doting parents who loved her very much even if they no longer really loved each other.
Tracy had been Nick's partner several years. She knew he had an allergy to the sun, but she had never guessed he was a vampire. She knew Vachon was, but she had never connected Nick's unusual habits with being a vampire.
Tracy had died that night--ALMOST. Nick had blamed himself for her injury. He had been there with her; she saw him change.
"You could have trusted me," she whispered. "We are partners."
In the few moments it had taken the emergency unit to reach the police station, Nick had done his work.
Tracy's recovery was amazing at the hospital. Everyone said it was due to some new experimental procedure that was top secret.
Natalie had heard of Tracy's shooting and had been the first one there. She had seen Nick's work. She had tried to stop him. She remembered the way her brother Richard had changed and what had happened to him.
Tracy was confused at her recovery but aside from a horrible thirst she was grateful for her new lease on life.
Vachon whisked Tracy away for a "vacation" where she could become accustomed to her new life without too many mortals around to tempt her. Vachon had bought a large cattle ranch in the open spaces of Montana. A packing plant was close by so there would never be a shortage of BOVINE to drink. Vachon really did hate cow blood and could never understand how Nick could tolerate it, but to keep Tracy safe, he would stoop to any low, including drinking cow blood.
Tracy left her parents a letter telling of her elopement. She told them she would be in touch. But for a while, she and her beloved were taking an extended honeymoon cruise, then to Europe, the Hawaiian Islands and the Far East. Maybe they would be gone ten years. She left the same note with Captain Reese along with her resignation.
The department was sorry to see Tracy go so quickly, but everyone was so overjoyed she had not died that terrible night. They rejoiced in her miracle cure and wished her well--in absentia.
Nick was the only one that knew the truth. He hesitated to tell Natalie the whole truth when she came to his loft later that night.
Nick had seen LaCroix at the Raven after the shooting. LaCroix was packing. It was time to move on he said. He did help Vachon and Tracy on their way although he like Natalie did not completely approve of Nick's actions. "My compulsive son," he told Nick. "Your rash actions will be the death of us all someday."
Natalie was waiting for him at the loft. "You refuse to even consider the one cure we haven't tried." She said, "I can not live with a lifetime of regret."
Natalie had so much faith--Faith that Nick loved her as much as she loved him; faith that there is always someone watching over us; faith that there was more than just this life.
Nick looked at Natalie and suddenly he felt it--a swelling in his chest as if it would burst and his eyes burned as the tears came.
Nick gently kissed Natalie, very softly along her cheek down to her throat. Her pulse was there just under the skin. Her blood was rushing, pounding in his ears.
He kissed her, sinking his fangs barely into her throat. All that was part of Natalie became part of Nick...Her love of children, her bad jokes, her love of old movies, her complete love for him, her faith.
Horrified, Nick stopped. Natalie was barely breathing. He lay her gently on the floor. NO--He couldn't stop himself! He had surely killed the one mortal that truly loved him.
"Well, my son, what have you done?" It was the voice of LaCroix.
"I couldn't stop myself!"
"Well, you can't just leave her here--Bring her over or we will bury her. It's your responsibility, Nicholas."
"She had faith. She trusted me, LaCroix."
"Trust and faith are for children and fools, Nicholas. Surely you are old enough to know that."
Nick had been looking at his collection of antique walking sticks. 'Ah, here is a good straight wooden one.'
"LaCroix, maybe I am a child or a fool, but I have faith. You are my dearest friend. I trust you will prove it."
Nick handed him the cane and knelt beside Natalie as he waited for his own death.
"My foolish Nicholas," Nick heard the crack as LaCroix broke the cane of the hearth of the fireplace. "Lets take her to the emergency room and see if your precious mortals are qualified to give her blood transfusions. I suppose we owe her that. After all, she found the cure for that horrible fever that would have destroyed our whole community."
It had been a busy night in the trauma unit. There had been that shooting involving a female police detective that was mortally wounded, but walked out in a matter of hours fully recovered.
LaCroix explained to the rather harried intern that Dr. Natalie Lambert had been in the park, evidently for a late evening stroll, when she was attacked. The young doctor was prepared to argue, but the steel blue eyes of LaCroix held him until he was convinced of the story.
Eight pints of AB- and a mega dose of antibiotics later, Natalie Lambert was beginning to hear her own breathing.
"She's conscious and breathing on her own!" Natalie heard someone say. She forced her eyes open, one at a time.
A shock of curly blonde hair greeted her. Nick with his head bowed was holding one of her hands in both of his.
She felt something else in their hands as they lay one inside the other.
Nick looked up, his blue eyes filled with tears to meet her gaze.
"Oh Natalie." Tears trickled down Nick's cheeks--Clean, clear, pure tears.
Natalie reached up to feel his cheeks and as she moved her hand from his. A small cross slipped from his hands.
"Oh Nick," she whispered as she checked his hands--No burns, no marks.
Natalie closed her eyes. She heard the sounds of weeping. It was okay--The tears were of joy.
The cure had worked. The cure had been love and faith.
Natalie and Nick were married and moved to Holland where they are raising tulips and a family of eight children.
LaCroix visits several times a year and is thrilled to be a doting grandfather.
Janette is happy being an overindulgent aunt. She hopes to someday write memoirs on the whole Toronto affair.
FINIS
IT'S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY, NICHOLAS
(Alternate ending for "Last Knight")
Natalie felt herself floating, like those soft high white clouds on a lazy summer day. And the sound--Was that those summer insects that are heard on long peaceful summer days when the sun is bright and the fields are filled with growing things?
It felt as though she had been floating, drifting high above everything in a peaceful daze. But being used to questioning everything as was her job as a medical examiner, she began to listen very closely to the sounds. At first she had been convinced it was summer insects, but no, it wasn't summer.
Forcing her mind and ears to obey her commands she listened more intently. Slowly she came to realize the sound was the hum of a respirator--her own.
Where was she? At first she seemed to have no memory. Was she in the hospital? And why?
Confused, she almost panicked, but being a medical professional and being called to crime scenes, where often things made no sense, made her force herself to think.
Nick--She had been at Nick's loft hadn't she? There had been so much the last few days--Laura's suicide; Tracy's horrible injury; Vachon's mental state after Divia's horrible attack on Urs and him. And, of course, Nick--his fight or flight reflex was in turmoil.
Nicholas Knight was a homicide detective, a patron of the arts, a good friend, a tender lover...and a vampire. It was usually the vampire part that got him in tight spots that even his "father" LaCroix and his "sister" Janette had to wrack their brains to help him. And, wanting to be his own man, he often scorned their help.
Nick had come to Toronto to be a policeman and had made good. He worked nights, kept his nose clean most of the time, avoided office parties, worked holidays and had extra abilities that only a select few knew about.
One of the select few that knew Nick's secrets was Natalie Lambert.
Natalie got Nick for a birthday present--sort of. He was brought into the lab in a body bag. Natalie was surprised there was so little damage since a bomb had gone off while he was holding it, but she was even more surprised when he drank all the blood from the bags in the refrigerator in the lab and told her to forget he had been there.
In a pig's eye, she thought. In college, they had tried that "hypnotize crap" on her at a fraternity party. Dum Dum Rubble had tried to convince her she was a stripper. She dislocated his jaw.
Nick kept bumping into her by accident. On the street, at the all-night Quickie Baggie, at the Pay and Get Gas. Then he showed up as a police detective and kept coming to the morgue as part of his work.
Natalie had switched to the night shift so she could take an Art Class at the local college. She had always felt she had an artistic side and she had felt she needed to pursue it. She didn't know if she wanted to spend the rest of her life looking at dead bodies--then along came Nick.
Nick...with his beautiful blue eyes and his golden ringlets. The face of an angel. But he fought his demons daily, hourly, minute by minute. He freely chose to work side by side with mortals. He chose freely to live side by side with mortals with their racing hearts and warm blood.
He chose to distance himself from his own kind and at times--for a short time--he could believe he was mortal. But it was always there just under the surface--the urge to kill; to drink in all their emotions--the tiny bits of humanity that made up their mortal lives.
Nick had lived for centuries killing but always there had been that nagging tug on him: "Thou shall not kill."
Nick had been a crusader sworn to conquer the unbelievers. How could he have fallen so far? A beautiful woman, "Janette" had been part of his downfall, but it was not all Janette's fault. He had been willing. So much of the fault was his own.
For at least a hundred years Nick had killed no humans, not to say she hadn't sampled a few, but nothing drastic. He had lived many lives and when things became difficult or complicated he simply moved on to a new life. Now there was E-mail, Internet, fax, video and hundreds of other inventions that would have been considered the devil's work when Nick was a child. It was not so easy to get new papers.
Nick liked his new life as a police detective. LaCroix had followed him to the city just to be near his favorite "son" and Janette had the Raven, a club, where he could go if he got lonely and wanted to rub elbows with his own kind.
Nick was somewhat stunned to find himself in a morgue. He was even more surprised to find a beautiful woman standing over him with a scalpel in her hand humming "Happy Birthday to Me".
His actions had been quick and he had been sure she would not remember him. But no-She was a resistor. One of those annoying ones that want to know everything and thought he was "fascinating," sounding so much like that Dr. Smock person on that TV show "Star Trap" or something.
He had avoided her as much as possible, but due to their respective lines of work they were literally thrown together several times a week. And, after a time they had become friends. Some thought very, very close friends. As a matter of fact, there were rumors he had a ring--a very old antique heirloom--and he was planning to pop the question.
Natalie had ceased to be annoying with her questions; Nick finally realized she had his best interests at heart. He wanted so to become human again, and the scientist in her demanded to find a cure. The woman in her screamed to find a cure.
Natalie had friends with expensive microscopes and labs farther advanced and much more sensitive than hers at the morgue. She had tried everything on Nick: herbal cures; "witches' potions" some worked for a while and some just made him sick.
Janette had found a cure but at a terrible price. She didn't recommend Nick and Natalie try it, but Natalie had brought the subject up more than once and Nick had always turned her down--FLAT DOWN.
Natalie was beginning to remember...TRACY. Tracy had been shot--mortally wounded. She had been behind Nick but the bullet had passed through him and into her.
Tracy had been in love with Vachon, a Spaniard who had been with Cortez.
Tracy and Vachon made a striking couple. Tracy with her sun gold hair and Vachon with his dark Spanish eyes and hair--Complete opposites in more ways than one. Vachon was a vampire and Tracy was human. She had doting parents who loved her very much even if they no longer really loved each other.
Tracy had been Nick's partner several years. She knew he had an allergy to the sun, but she had never guessed he was a vampire. She knew Vachon was, but she had never connected Nick's unusual habits with being a vampire.
Tracy had died that night--ALMOST. Nick had blamed himself for her injury. He had been there with her; she saw him change.
"You could have trusted me," she whispered. "We are partners."
In the few moments it had taken the emergency unit to reach the police station, Nick had done his work.
Tracy's recovery was amazing at the hospital. Everyone said it was due to some new experimental procedure that was top secret.
Natalie had heard of Tracy's shooting and had been the first one there. She had seen Nick's work. She had tried to stop him. She remembered the way her brother Richard had changed and what had happened to him.
Tracy was confused at her recovery but aside from a horrible thirst she was grateful for her new lease on life.
Vachon whisked Tracy away for a "vacation" where she could become accustomed to her new life without too many mortals around to tempt her. Vachon had bought a large cattle ranch in the open spaces of Montana. A packing plant was close by so there would never be a shortage of BOVINE to drink. Vachon really did hate cow blood and could never understand how Nick could tolerate it, but to keep Tracy safe, he would stoop to any low, including drinking cow blood.
Tracy left her parents a letter telling of her elopement. She told them she would be in touch. But for a while, she and her beloved were taking an extended honeymoon cruise, then to Europe, the Hawaiian Islands and the Far East. Maybe they would be gone ten years. She left the same note with Captain Reese along with her resignation.
The department was sorry to see Tracy go so quickly, but everyone was so overjoyed she had not died that terrible night. They rejoiced in her miracle cure and wished her well--in absentia.
Nick was the only one that knew the truth. He hesitated to tell Natalie the whole truth when she came to his loft later that night.
Nick had seen LaCroix at the Raven after the shooting. LaCroix was packing. It was time to move on he said. He did help Vachon and Tracy on their way although he like Natalie did not completely approve of Nick's actions. "My compulsive son," he told Nick. "Your rash actions will be the death of us all someday."
Natalie was waiting for him at the loft. "You refuse to even consider the one cure we haven't tried." She said, "I can not live with a lifetime of regret."
Natalie had so much faith--Faith that Nick loved her as much as she loved him; faith that there is always someone watching over us; faith that there was more than just this life.
Nick looked at Natalie and suddenly he felt it--a swelling in his chest as if it would burst and his eyes burned as the tears came.
Nick gently kissed Natalie, very softly along her cheek down to her throat. Her pulse was there just under the skin. Her blood was rushing, pounding in his ears.
He kissed her, sinking his fangs barely into her throat. All that was part of Natalie became part of Nick...Her love of children, her bad jokes, her love of old movies, her complete love for him, her faith.
Horrified, Nick stopped. Natalie was barely breathing. He lay her gently on the floor. NO--He couldn't stop himself! He had surely killed the one mortal that truly loved him.
"Well, my son, what have you done?" It was the voice of LaCroix.
"I couldn't stop myself!"
"Well, you can't just leave her here--Bring her over or we will bury her. It's your responsibility, Nicholas."
"She had faith. She trusted me, LaCroix."
"Trust and faith are for children and fools, Nicholas. Surely you are old enough to know that."
Nick had been looking at his collection of antique walking sticks. 'Ah, here is a good straight wooden one.'
"LaCroix, maybe I am a child or a fool, but I have faith. You are my dearest friend. I trust you will prove it."
Nick handed him the cane and knelt beside Natalie as he waited for his own death.
"My foolish Nicholas," Nick heard the crack as LaCroix broke the cane of the hearth of the fireplace. "Lets take her to the emergency room and see if your precious mortals are qualified to give her blood transfusions. I suppose we owe her that. After all, she found the cure for that horrible fever that would have destroyed our whole community."
It had been a busy night in the trauma unit. There had been that shooting involving a female police detective that was mortally wounded, but walked out in a matter of hours fully recovered.
LaCroix explained to the rather harried intern that Dr. Natalie Lambert had been in the park, evidently for a late evening stroll, when she was attacked. The young doctor was prepared to argue, but the steel blue eyes of LaCroix held him until he was convinced of the story.
Eight pints of AB- and a mega dose of antibiotics later, Natalie Lambert was beginning to hear her own breathing.
"She's conscious and breathing on her own!" Natalie heard someone say. She forced her eyes open, one at a time.
A shock of curly blonde hair greeted her. Nick with his head bowed was holding one of her hands in both of his.
She felt something else in their hands as they lay one inside the other.
Nick looked up, his blue eyes filled with tears to meet her gaze.
"Oh Natalie." Tears trickled down Nick's cheeks--Clean, clear, pure tears.
Natalie reached up to feel his cheeks and as she moved her hand from his. A small cross slipped from his hands.
"Oh Nick," she whispered as she checked his hands--No burns, no marks.
Natalie closed her eyes. She heard the sounds of weeping. It was okay--The tears were of joy.
The cure had worked. The cure had been love and faith.
Natalie and Nick were married and moved to Holland where they are raising tulips and a family of eight children.
LaCroix visits several times a year and is thrilled to be a doting grandfather.
Janette is happy being an overindulgent aunt. She hopes to someday write memoirs on the whole Toronto affair.
FINIS