ENDS AND BEGINNINGS
By Kayla Gayle
Disclaimer: Don't own them, just use them for my own purposes. Permission to archive to any of the known sites.
All reviews welcome, keep the flames low.
Yes, this is sappy. But I had trouble with this transition chapter, sorry(. Future chapters will be more up to snuff. And I will update a little more regularly; I'm moving the beginning of June and have been ill as well, so sorry about the long time between postings.
A little history: yes I know Nick, and probably Gilda, would never use the version of the bible that I used, however, I think that this version gets the point across.
Enjoy.
CHAPTER 2
Nick glanced over at the clock on the bedside table: 3:30pm. He sighed. Since his lecture by Gilda the previous night, he had not been getting a lot of sleep. What she said weighed heavily on his mind. Did he like being a vampire? Was it really that? He tossed away the covers and shuffled to the bathroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
Did his being a good cop have to do with his abilities? He thought back upon all the cases he had solved. He had picked up things with supernatural hearing, used his unusual strength when he had to. Then if he liked the fringe benefits of vampirism, what did he not like?
He walked back into the bedroom and began picking an outfit for that night. All the while he was in the shower, shaved, dressed and prepped he thought about it. It bothered him.
Nick walked down the stairs of his loft and into the kitchen. He opened the door to the fridge and stood staring at the green bottles. This was the key, the thing that was preventing him across. After a moment of indecision, he took a bottle and uncorked it. The he went over to the divan to sit. He took a quick drink and the phone rang.
"Yeah, Nick Knight. I'm either in bed or incommunicado. So if you want to leave your name and number, go ahead."
"Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man. Placed on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise, and rudely great; With too much knowledge for the skeptic side, With too much weakness for the stoic's pride, He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest; In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast; In doubt his mind or body to prefer; Born but to die, and reasoning but to err; Alike in ignorance, his reason such, Whether he thinks too little, or too much; Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; Still by himself abused, or disabused; Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled: The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!"
Nick nearly dropped the bottle. That was Gilda's voice, reciting Alexander Pope. The name of the poem escaped him and he rose to the bookcase and pulled one from the shelf. He opened it and found it: from Epistle II—An Essay on Man.
Nick went back to the sofa and stretched out. 'Know then thyself', did he really know himself? He had been wore out and cynical when Janette brought him over, sick of all the killings in the name of God. Was he a force for good, or for bad? Was his 13th century morality, steeped in religion, to blame? The phone rang again and again Nick let the machine take it. It was Gilda again; damn she was haunting him now. But the message was a little different:
"Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness: He is gracious, and merciful, and righteous. Well is it with the man that dealeth graciously and lendeth; He shall maintain his cause in judgment. For he shall never be moved; The righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance. He shall be afraid of evil tidings: His heart is fixed, trusting in Jehovah. His heart is established he shall not be afraid, Until he sees his desire upon his adversaries. He hath dispersed, he hath given to the needy; His righteousness endureth for ever: His horn shall be exalted with honor. The wicked shall see it, and be grieved; He shall gnash with his teeth, and melt away. The desire of the wicked shall perish."
Now it was Psalms 112, albeit a little different from the version he had learned. Was he a light in the darkness? Was he gracious, merciful, and righteous? No. 'Well, why not?' said a small voice inside his head. He had tried to live an upright life, or as upright as you could get and need blood to live. Was the police force possibly to blame for all his angst? Was theology? As it was, he saw death nearly everyday and all his mortal friends were in the hospital because of him.
But what would he do? He had enjoyed teaching; maybe he could do that again. How could he be true to himself? He took another swallow of cow and picked up a remote and turned on the television. CNN was on, 24-hour news. Nick half listened to the stories, the top stories had passed and they were doing their fluff pieces.
"A cold spell in the northern US has left many street people without shelter. With the recent budget cutbacks, more and more shelters are being forced to turn people away."
They then showed a picture of several woman and their children, waiting outside for a place to stay the night. Nick sat straight up. The rest of the piece was more of the same. Then it hit him—the De Brabant Foundation. 'He hath dispersed, he hath given to the needy'. He thought about Jennie and Topper, all the homeless souls he had let share his basement. Maybe he could do something for them?
Nick put the bottle down, rose, and walked over to a desk in the corner. He turned on the computer that sat there and composed a little note to Aristotle...
Nearly three hours later, Nick shut down his computer. The e-mails had been sent, the letters written, plans made. He walked into the kitchen, poured himself another drink and pushed the button for the elevator.
"Knight?" said Reese in amazement. "Your suspension is almost over, thank God. We could sure use you."
"Actually, Captain, about that," the detective seemed out of sorts, as he walked to Reese's desk and laid a piece of paper on it. "I've thought it over a long time," he continued, as the Captain read the contents, "I think its time for me to move on. Nat...Dr. Lambert will be home soon, Tracey and Schanke will be out of the hospital in about a month. I'm still a suspect, even though I've been cleared. Trace and Don would make a good team." Nick swallowed. "So, it's final. Here's my badge and gun."
Nick handed over his weapon, wrapped in a holster and, reluctantly it seemed to Reese, his badge. The Captain stood.
"Knight, you don't have to do this. The talk will die down and you're one of the best we have in Toronto. I realize it's been a rough few weeks, but..."
"You don't understand, Captain. I need to do this. I need to make a fresh, clean start away from here."
Reese shook his head in resignation.
"I sure wish I could change your mind."
The former homicide detective shrugged.
"I wish you could also."
And with that, he walked out of the office and away from the precinct. He drove next to the hospital where his friends from this life were staying. Nat and Tracy had been put in the same room. With stealth (vampire stealth, Nick wryly noted) he was able to get into their room. Nat was sleeping, but Tracy was awake. Her eyes opened wide when she saw who it was and she mouthed his name.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, sotto voce.
"I've come to say goodbye."
Tracy started at that. Nick held a hand up.
"It has to do with everything. I also have something I need to tell you, I think you should know." He took a deep breath. "I should have trusted you. You kept Vachon's secret, you would have kept mine."
It took the blonde in the bed a few beats to respond. Then she slowly nodded, as if pieces of the puzzle had come together. A tear fell from her eye, remembering the dashing Spanish vampire she had come to fall in love with.
"As you know from him, there comes a time for us to move on. It's my time. There are too many memories here, I need to make a clean break."
"Does she know?" asked Tracy, gesturing to the sleeping woman in the next bed.
"About me being a vampire? Yes. Me leaving? No."
"I think you ought to tell her."
Nick nodded. "One more thing, I think you and my old partner should team up. I've talked to Reese about it. You'll do good together, as long as you can stand polka music."
Tracy nodded. Nick sighed and kissed her on the forehead.
"It has been good to know you, Tracy Vetter."
He then walked over to the sleeping Dr. Lambert. This was going to be harder. He shook Nat and she turned over, sleepily, and with some problem, given the IV in her arm.
"Nick, what a surprise," she said, weakly. Losing almost all her blood had made recovery difficult.
"Thanks. How are you doing?"
"I'll live," then she laughed at her joke. "And you?"
Nick sat on the bed and told her of his visit with Gilda.
"I think she's right, Nat. There are parts of me being whom I am that I like. The "superpowers" you could say. But I don't think I can keep up this looking for mortality. After all, I was going to bring you into the darkness, so things must not be all that bad." He tried to smile. "And it's just time to move on. Too many close calls, too many lost."
"But you've made so much progress! You've held crosses, eaten food! It's just an addiction..."
The vampire shook his head. "No, it's ingrained. Remember your experiments? The extra nucleotides? It's in our blood, literally. I've never told you this, Nat, but I've always been half starved most of the time I've known you. I think the reason I almost killed you was because of that. Plus, putting the monster to bed is getting harder. No," he said to her unspoken question, "I will not go back to killing humans. There must be a way to reconcile both man and vampire, and I will find it."
Nat could make no sound, except for the tears running down her cheeks. Nick took her in his arms and held her for a good long while. Then he let go and left the room, the hospital, and got back into the Caddy. He had plans to make and Reno was a flight away.