7/24/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.

Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.

Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.

I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.

Chapter 15: Shards of the Past

Swirling black...charcoal... then mist...

Sweet aroma of grass and wild flowers.

The sound of weeping.

For an instant Andrew saw a young knight in Crusader garb sobbing as he knelt amidst a sea of grave markers. Pale sunlight glinted off of a metal band around his waist.

"Nicholas?" Andrew asked in stunned amazement, wondering what had happened to the secured room at the Raven.

The figure jerked upright and fled away from him. Seeing that his one possible source of information to where this was quickly getting away from him, Andrew began to give chase; however, he was quickly enveloped by darkness...

Strong odors of brick and asphalt and garbage.

The sounds of distant traffic...

What?

Swirling shades of neutrality coalesced into a deserted city alley that Andrew did not recognize. Up above, the night sky was dismally overcast. Where in the world was he?

"Freeze!"

Andrew froze at the authoritative sound. Now what?

"Turn around---slowly," the voice commanded.

Easing himself 180 degrees from his former position, Andrew found himself facing the business end of a gun.

The other side was in the firm grasp of one no-nonsense looking figure, his facial features steeped in shadow.

"Sorry?" Andrew gaped; not at all sure of what was going on. In the dim light, he spotted an almost-new looking circus flyer that proclaimed the year as 1996. Something had brought him here, back in time as well as place? So what had happened to the apparition of Nicholas as a medieval knight? Assuming that had been de Brabant who'd run from him.

The figure with the gun took two steps forward, allowing the light from a neon sign to bathe his face in an emerald glow.

He clothing had somehow changed to a tailored black oxford shirt with dark grey jacket and pants. The titanium restraint absent, but then, so was the whole 'little boy lost' demeanor the angel had seen him wear since that time in 1228. But it was unmistakably...

"Nicholas?"

The man's eyes narrowed a bit, clearly recognizing the name, but apparently not the person speaking it.

"Detective Knight, Metro Homicide," the figure coolly informed him, "You're infringing on a secured crime scene area. I suggest you leave--now."

"But..."

Coincidence or perhaps a look alike? Andrew's eyebrows quirked upwards as he looked the officer up and down, studying him closely as best he could in the bad light. This was de Brabant--he just knew it was. Yet the clothing, the whole attitude was... "Wait... Did you just say your name was Knight?"

Looking none to pleased, the officer brought forth a badge with picture i.d. There, neatly in print, it did proclaim him to be one Nicholas B. Knight of the Toronto Metropolitan P.D.

Nicholas B Knight: a plains-clothed cop. Father--of course! Toronto, 1996! De Brabant had taken on the identity of a homicide cop. He had gone back in time!

"Look, I don't need any trouble from you or them here. Go find somebody else to hunt."

"But..?"

"Leave!" the mysteriously transformed de Brabant toothily snarled as his finger tightened on the weapon's trigger mechanism.

"Okay...okay..." Andrew put his hands up and slowly backed off, not wanting to test just how real the gun's bullets were in this new situation. With his fourth step the scene disappeared--

--to become a jungle.

Through the foliage Andrew could see an American Red Cross soldier reassuring a motley group of Asian children as he administered vaccine shots. He stepped forward, and the American turned to face him, his bright smile evaporating into a grimace as he switched the hypodermic in his hand in favor of holding a rifle, briskly marching over to put himself between the children and this intruder.

"Halt!"

It was him again.

"Nicholas?"

"Nick Parker, U.S. Red Cross," the rifle never wavered from his chest. "Don't come any closer!"

"But you're De Brabant, aren't you? Where are we?"

The vampire looked shocked at hearing the name, but recovered quickly, his grip tightening on the rifle. "Bin Loc," the vampire crisply informed him, "Don't give me a story about being lost! I know what you are."

Vietnam, Andrew knew then, having seen his share of angelic duty in the terrible battles fought here. He was in Vietnam during the so-called 'Cold' War. Not that 'temperature' had had any effect on the amounts of death.

But this wasn't possible, surely? Never had the Father allowed human or angel to travel back in time.

"You're with Lacroix, aren't you?" Nicholas sneered. "Well, remind my father and the others that we have an agreement. The children are off limits. I won't allow them to be harmed. Now leave us be."

"Nick..."

"GIT!"

Andrew got. And found he was in another locale: an American university in Chicago.

A female student raced past intent on stopping one of the faculty members as he is stepping into his car: a 1950's model. This time Andrew was not surprised to see who the man was.

"Professor Forrester!" the girl yelled.

'Forrester' smiled wanly as he waited for the student.

"It's not true...is it?" she asked him. "You're being a Communist, I mean?"

The blond teacher sighed. "No, Angie, it's not true. But with McCarthy stirring up all this fear...well, I'm afraid I've already been given notice by the dean. I have to leave." His eyes narrow as he spots Andrew. Excusing himself, he left his vehicle to walk stiffly over to the watching angel.

"Well, well...I'm surprised he hasn't come to gloat in person," de Brabant glared at him. Tell Lacroix I know he was behind this...this elaborate scheme to force me out again! But I won't come back to him---I won't. I may have to leave Chicago and this life---but he can't force me to leave with him! Tell him that!" Slamming the car door closed, he sped away.

Memories, Andrew realized, as the University faded around him. "I'm seeing de Brabant' blood memories and somehow becoming part of them. But were they supposed to be this detailed? He'd gotten the impression that they would be like viewing vague images and feelings---not a digitally re-mastered version of 'You Are There'.

When the scene changed again, the angel didn't even blink.

Now, he was standing in expensive hotel lobby.

Andrew spotted an information desk with newspaper.

Los Angeles, California. 1922

Seeing Janette enter the room, Andrew moved behind a pillar so as not to be seen. The lovely vampiress didn't even notice him as she made a beeline for a rather dejected looking de Brabant sitting on one of the lobby couches. The knight scowled when she hesitantly sat down beside him.

"Please don't look at me like that, Nicholas. I did it for you."

"Oh that's nice," Nicholas snorted in disgust, his arms and legs tightly crossed as he glared at her, "as long as you betrayed me 'for my own good."

"I know I promised that I wouldn't tell where you'd gone---I even asked him to forget you...that he could get another. Lacroix was furious. He said that he didn't want another---only you." The Parisian wrung her gloved hands. "Oh, Nicola, you know how he gets when you run away! And I was frightened that maybe he was right. You do need us to watch out for you. I still have nightmares of our having to rescue you from the clutches of that horrible 'scientist' you gave yourself ov--"

"That was nearly a century ago! What I needed now--" her disgruntled sibling said through gritted teeth, "was to be alone. And I was---for all of 24 hours here! Damn it, I'm not a child anymore, Janette!"

"Non?" Janette's eyes flashed with her own brand of ire. "Sometimes I wonder. First you refuse to feed from any but the vilest of humans, now this silly business of searching for a cure." Relenting, knowing that he had a right to be angry at her, she softened her voice. "But, you know, Nicola, that to Lacroix you will always be his beloved child. You should be honored. He does not care for me half so much."

Nicholas sighed heavily and took her hand in his. "Oh, Janette... I put you in a hard position, and I'm sorry for that. And I can forgive your betrayal. But...I can't forget it. I'll never be able to forget it."

Janette turned her face into his shoulder, weeping softly as she knew he was not just attesting to the strength of vampiric memory. "I know...oh, Nicola...I know."

They loosely clung to each other in mutual misery, although for different reasons.

Andrew considered going to them, but then Lacroix returned. Latching onto one of Nicholas's arms, the Roman led them away "to procure dinner". And the scene changed again.

Nicholas, this time dressed in English garb circa 1883. He was cradling a black Rottweiller in his arm, and it was obvious the animal was dead. Andrew could see the bloody hole in its chest, and a little ways away, a branch with one roughly hewed end covered in gore. The knight's face was contorted in bitter mourning over the dark corpse, hands caressing the body. As Andrew moved closer he could hear de Brabant's whispering voice.

"Raleigh...Raleigh.....oh, god...my poor Raleigh....I'm so sorry... Why didn't you stay away from me? You, didn't you listen though.. why did you have to make yourself my friend? Damn him... how could he do this to me! Damn you, Lacroix... jealous of even my stinking... lousy ......dog." The words faded as the vampire's body became wracked with harsh sobs, great fistfuls of ebony fur clutched in each hand.

Andrew swallowed at the terrible display of loss before him. Here must be the memory his friend had mentioned. The angel was loathing intruding on the knight in his grief for his canine companion, but... the Spirit was nudging him to say something.

"He looks to have been a beautiful animal," Andrew commiserated. "It is a shame to have had to put him down."

Wiping a grimy sleeve over his face, de Brabant squinted at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I had to...my master turned him carouche." He sniffled, "the bloodlust made him into a rabid killer. I had to stop...the innocent people being killed... I had..." The rest caught in the knight's throat to rendering him silent.

"Of course you did." Andrew agreed. "But he was a good dog before the madness took him, wasn't he? You put him down cleanly." Nicholas nodded, stroking the black fur. "He accepted me just as I was...he didn't care that I'm a monster. He...he... loved me. And I...I loved him. I shouldn't have loved him back." Inhaling deeply, he fought to gain a dispassionate air. "I mean...he was just a dog, right? Dog's are for breakfast...and only at the worst of times..."

Andrew made a face of disgust at the very idea. What an awful sentiment to hold! "Who told you that?"

"Lacroix. He found me sharing my cabin with Raleigh. I should have known---sent Raleigh away. Pretended he meant nothing to me. My master doesn't want me to care for anyone or anything but him. I hate him. He made me kill my best friend..." De Brabant's blue eyes considered him for a moment before asking, "Do I know you, sir?"

"Distantly," Andrew was guarded replied, mindful of the response he had gotten last time. He didn't want to be shut out again. "I'm looking for a knight. He looks a lot like you, but younger, and wearing a silver-crossed tunic and a blue cloak."

"A knight?" Nicholas mused. "I haven't heard tale of any in these parts, sir---least not the kind you speak of. Only person I've seen besides you and Lacroix was a Mr. Arthur C. Doyle who almost became poor Raleigh's victim."

"Oh..." Andrew helped him up. "Do you need any help with...?" he gestured at the corpse.

"No, thank you anyway," Nicholas gave a wan smile. "I'll just take him somewhere private until the sunrise comes. And sir?" Andrew nodded for him to continue. "Good luck finding your knight."

"Thank You--" Andrew started to say, only to find he was talking to the wall of a root cellar.

"Hello, is she hiding you too?"

Turning around so that he faced Nicholas (for who else would it be?), Andrew nodded, hoping that the young vampire would supply him with information quickly enough to grasp the situation of this memory.

"Is she doing so for you?" he nonchalantly asked, silently wondering to himself: When is this?

1820 France

(Thank you, Father.)

"Yes..." de Brabant smiled, "though I don't understand why. I mean, it was clear enough that that mob was after me, and all Marise had to do was ask them why I was being hunted."

"Bad?" Andrew asked solicitously, hoping to encourage him to talk more. At least his assignment hadn't reverted back to using threats to drive him away--yet.

Shuddering, Nicholas glanced towards the shuttered window that was situated just above ground level. "You didn't see? They were hot on our heels when Lacroix directed that we split up." He shrugged. "My darn luck to have drawn the majority of them to myself and good thing Janette elected to stay in Paris rather than travel abroad with us, or she'd be out there too." Nicholas smiled in explanation, "I'm sorry. Janette's my sister, you see. She's actually got a couple of centuries on me, but our sire isn't always as fast to give her aid as I'd like. He's even been willing to leave her behind at times. Lacroix can take care of himself, but I worry about Janette. She's not always as tough as she'd like everyone to think." He looked pensively at the door---the only one that led out of the cellar. "The human girl, Marise, seems such a pretty, young thing... is not often out of the convent, I'd wager. She offered me food and water---which I managed to appear as if I was eating... I hope she'll be alright."

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"Hiding fugitives from a mob for starters?" the vampire quipped, though quickly sobered. "Too...Lacroix is nearby. Since Marise is helping me, I don't think he'll hurt her..." he gave a troubled frown "but you can never know with Lacroix. It all depends on his mood---and how hungry he is."

Andrew laid a hand on his shoulder. "And the thought of her death upsets you?"

"I... would you think me crazy for saying yes?" Nicholas ducked his head, intent on his fingers. "She's such an innocent girl. And kind..." Giving a flippant gesture he flopped into a wooden chair. "Lacroix would call me foolish for even thinking of her as other than a snack, but... I suppose she reminds me a little of Jeanne." De Brabant's smile flitted between amusement and longing, fingers caressing the wood of the chair back. "Or how she might have been as young woman living in a convent."

As Andrew opened his mouth to ask just who this 'Jeanne' was, the cellar faded into black.

"Oh, no---not again! Every time I feel as if I'm getting somewhere--" he grumbled as the scenery changed yet again.

He was inside a chapel. A woman was also there, praying fervently when de Brabant stalked up behind her. The woman whirled to confront him.

"You've been following me," she accused him, yet did not seem very concerned about being alone in her stalker's presence.

"Yes. I couldn't help myself," this de Brabant replied with a menacing air. Indeed, Andrew could feel the difference in him here... there was none of the angsty vampire now.

When?

1428 the Father's whisper informed him.

Almost 400 years prior to the preceding memory, Andrew mused. Nicholas seemed to be everything Lacroix could want, imposing, uncaring about anything human. Distant. If this callous creature was what he was at one time...what had changed him?

Is this an important event in his life?

Very much so.

The girl continued talking: "I could feel someone...something..."

"Hmm. Were you frightened?" Nicholas taunted. "Is that why you stopped to hide...Hmm?"

"I am not hiding," the woman corrected. "I stopped to pray for a safe journey. I'm going to meet with the Dauphin in Vaucouleur."

Moving forward like a panther preparing to strike, de Brabant grabbed her shoulders to spin her around. "It's a shame. I don't think you'll ever arrive."

His victim looked at him, unafraid. "I have no fear of you."

"You should," he rejoined, smiling wide enough to display his fangs for her.

"No. My grandmother used to tell me of the ancient creatures cursed to spend eternity in darkness. You are Nicholas of Brabant-- the man of the night."

He looked at her with disdain. "You think I'm cursed? No... I will live forever."

"Oh, yes, very, because you are afraid of salvation," she agreed. "You--who choose to live forever--live in constant fear of death." She looked him in eyes as she firmly asserted, "I do not. I will pray for you, Nicholas. I will pray for us both."

With that, she began to walk away, out of the chapel.

Nicholas called after her, obviously impressed by the way she had stood up to him even after he had revealed his true nature to her.

"Courage?! What is your other name?"

"Jeanne...d'Arc."

Andrew started. Joan of Arc! He hadn't recognized her. In heaven, she was so beautiful---glowing with the light of God's grace. A joy to talk to-- never doubting the Father's word, little, brave Joan.

De Brabant looked about the chapel as the church bells began to ring. A large wooden cross seemed to capture his attention, and he reached for it in a questioning manner. Still some distance away, his fingers caught fire, and it was all Andrew can do not to rush forward to aid him as he let out an agonized cry of pain that echoed around the place of prayer.

The chapel image warped into that of the inside of a stone room.

Now when?

Only a couple of years have passed

"Nicholas."

It was Joan again, now dressed in her battle armor.

"Well," Nicholas smirked, acknowledging her greeting, "you're a very different person from the last time we met.... a heroine now."

"A heretic, they say," the Frenchwoman corrected.

"Well, they do have a point." Nicholas concurred, "After all, why would God reveal his plans through a farmer's daughter?"

Casually, Jeanne answered back, "Why did he send his son to us as a carpenter?" Nicholas did not acknowledge her win, choosing instead to change the subject.

"And so you'll die a martyr...and I'm sure that will please you very much."

She turned away from him, her face shadowed with sorrow. "What would please me very much is to be back in Doremy with my family." Her immortal companion pounced on the confession like it was a bleeding wound.

"So you are afraid of dying. Life isn't so everlasting now,"---he leaned in closer to her, tempting---"But I can give it to you....A life that never ends....A power beyond your imagination..." His mouth moved closer to her neck, seductive, promising...

His would-be fledgling rebuffed him firmly, much to his displeasure---and surprise.

"Don't."

"Why throw your life away for the church?" he asked, almost angrily. "For some pious old men who would lie to you? How can you do that?"

"If my death is necessary to keep the church strong, so be it. I will live on in the hereafter."

"How can you be so sure your God will be waiting for you on the other side?" Nicholas sniffed.

Jeanne's eyes practically shone with the light of her conviction.

"Faith...pure, simple, faith."

She held out a crude wooden cross to him, thick sticks bound together by a leather thong, "Take this to remember me by. To remind you that the faith you have lost is always there to regain."

But Nicholas grabbed her wrist to hold it away from him, his eyes filled with fear; so Jeanne knelt down to place it on the floor instead, never taking her eyes off of his, willing him to understand. Then she left.

Warily circling the larger cross, de Brabant knelt down beside Jeanne's smaller version, looking confused and angry all at once.

The vampire's posture revealed his silent thoughts: This is nonsense. She's mad. How can she believe in this?" His whispered breath turned wistful. "How can I believe in this.....again?"

Andrew looked thoughtfully as the memory seemed to freeze without melting right away into another.

Father, I know he lost his faith during the horrors of the Crusades and from things before. Did Joan give it back to him?

She planted the seed, my Angel. It slowly grew within him until it bloomed anew in 1996.

But it died again with his girlfriend Dr. Lambert?

Faith does not replace common sense, Andrew. As is his wont, he leapt ahead without waiting for Me.

Are the memories done, Father? What do I do now?

Andrew waited for an answer hoping he wasn't going to be subjected to all de Brabant's 800 years of remembrances. But instead of his Father's welcomed voice, a dark, shadow began to engulf everything.

And within the darkness... something sinister... laughed.

Review Answers:

Elendil: doh! Argh... I missed that from the original posting. Back then, it was a long time between those posts so I inserted that to remind the forum readers who Divia was in relationship to Lacroix. Thanks, and it's been shortened now.

Louis Pastiche: -lol- When you mentioned Doyle before, I was thinking it was because I already had this part up. Through me for a loop to realize I hadn't. –grins-

Mary Rose: I get to start appreciating Mr. Too-Old-And-Powerful-For-That and then I go and watch that episode and end up wanting to take a stake to LC all over again. –Lol-

Louie Pastiche: Um..um... Yes--- you got it--- that was Andrew's fault! (Will fix hopefully at same time upload 21)

-grumbles- yes, well this latest one left me exasperated. I'm still not at all satisfied with it, but don't want to delay the story any longer. Sorry for the dryness of it.

Alynna Lis Eachann: Nick is both poor and blessed. As much of a pain in the neck as Lacroix is, the fact remains that Nick would have been killed centuries before if LC wasn't constantly keeping watch over the impetuous knight. You have to give LC that. (growls) even if he did make Nick kill his dog.