Part Two
 

The door to the conference room swung open with great force, and Nick lifted
his heavy head from his hands.  He could still feel the weight from his bent
over position pull at the back of his neck as he looked up to view
Commissioner Vetter walk in followed by the members of the Shooting Review
Board.

Swiftly and modestly, Nick rose and offered his hand to the Commissioner as
his words of condolence rolled out.  "Commissioner Vetter, I am so sorry of
your loss."

With the arrogance that accompanied his position, he dismissed the detectives
attempt at sympathy and ignored his hand.  Choosing to focus solely on the
business at hand, he took on a proud air and acted in a professional manner
void of any emotion.  Crossing the room, he moved to sit at the head seat at
the end of the long table.  Nick watched as the five members of the Review
Board all moved to stand behind the Commissioner and stare through him with
expressionless faces.  Not knowing exactly what to do, Nick stood at the
opposite end of the table, and waited as his boss' boss began to leaf through
several of the folders that he had seen being used during the last few days of
his hearing.  The Commissioner for all intents and purposes seemed very intent
on the material that lay inside the reviewer's notebooks and manuals, but he
could see that whatever the words that lay on the pages said, it did not
matter.  He had seen eyes like those before.  Those were the eyes of a
predator, hard and cold.  Years as a hunter had made him acutely aware that
all the motions the Commissioner was now going through were only a ploy.  A
deceptive game used to lure and to intimidate his victims.  A sick feeling
washed over him, not because of the anxiety, this act was trying to evoke, but
because of the detached way in which Tracy's father was reacting to his
daughter's death.

Finally the stalking came to an end, and Commissioner Vetter's voice boomed as
he tossed all the books to the side.

"I have spent the last couple of days reviewing all reports and listening to
testimony pertaining to my daughter's death.  Her Mother, sister, and I will
be burying her today and I will have this investigation buried as well.  My
family needs an end to this, so I will be ending it now."  His word of "now"
was accentuated with the sound of his fist hitting the table as he rose.  His
chair scraped at the wooden floor as it was pushed back to make room for his
imposing figure.  Leaving his seated position, he walked towards Nick until
less than 15 centimeters stood between the two men.  Vetter's words were as
bitter as venom as he spoke.

"My daughter was placed in your hands with the understanding that you were to
be trusted.  And what did you do with that trust?  You threw it back in my
face."  After a quick twist to look at the board that had not even taken a
breath since the Commissioner had risen, he turned back to the detective.
"These gentlemen have come to the conclusion that you are not be held
accountable for Detective Vetter's death.  So it would seem that legally my
hands are tied.  However, before you go breathing that sigh of relief, you
should also be aware that I cannot think of one good reason why you should
remain in this department.  I want you out of here Knight, and make it your
life's ambition to never be seen in the presence of a Vetter again!  You
killed my little girl Knight!  One way or another, you killed her.  And just
because they can't prove it doesn't mean that you are not as guilty as sin.  I
don't see how you sleep at nights."

Vetter's words cut at him as surely as if he had used a sword, and for the
first time since he had regained his mortality he realized that guilt was not
exclusive to immortal beings.  The Commissioner's reproach only reminded him
that even as a mortal he was to be condemned for his failings and that there
was no salvation for one as damned as himself.  With what little was left of
his pride, he offered the only response he could.  "Your daughter's life was
my responsibility Sir, I did my best to protect her but it was not enough.
What happened was an accident, but that doesn't excuse my actions and it does
not bring her back.  Whatever you think of me, does not matter.  Your daughter
was a good cop and she deserves to be remembered that way.  I will always
remember her that way and though you may not believe this, I would have traded
my life for her's if I could.  And about how I can manage to sleep, if it
helps, there is no peace for me- even in my sleep."

As if Nick had not spoken, the Commissioner turned and summoned one of the
Review Board members to his side to instruct him.  "Fill out Detective
Knight's resignation papers and have him escorted from the building."

Vetter then exited the room so rapidly that he never heard the quick response
of "Yes Sir" to his command.

Nick's stare followed the Commissioner long after he had slammed the door
behind him.  The sound of the door's glass window was still reverberating in
the room as Nick was approached from the side.

"Detective Knight, I have to ask you to turn over your gun and badge now."

He did not turn, but continued to stare at the glass and wooden barrier as if
he expected something miraculous to happen.  He had considered resignation
many times, and had even taken some risks by bending the rules, but throughout
his Toronto career, he was always the one in control.  He had not seen this
coming.  This was not an investigation for the truth.  This was personal.
Evidence, facts, and a spotless record, none of it mattered.  One day he is
being told that he is a bonafide hero, and the next he is thrown out of his
workplace.  The man beside him repeated his request for the objects that stood
for his commitment to helping humanity, and his mesmerization was broken.
Mechanically, he reached across to where his gun was secured to his chest,
then carefully handed it over to the waiting official.  This gun that now left
his possession, had never been used to take another's life.  Then with
diminished strength, he made his way to where his jacket hung over the chair
and withdrew his badge.  Nostalgia stung hard at him, and he stopped to open
it and reveal what lay protected inside.  It looked so new, just as it did the
day he had received it six years ago.  He needed one last look at the shiny
metal that meant so much to him before turning away from it forever.  His eyes
moved across the case to the picture on the opposite side.  There shone the
face of a man who had thrown his life away, and who had destroyed countless
others along the way.  The badge suddenly repulsed him and he snapped it
closed in disgust and handed it to the man who held his gun.  As the badge was
relinquished, a second man approached with a group of papers that were stapled
together, and showed him the place he wanted him to sign.  They had wasted no
time in preparing the resignation forms.  Obediently, he removed the proffered
pen and papers and leaned the documents against the wall as he signed.  With
all the formalities accomplished, he was led to the conference room door and
escorted out into the main room.  His first step out was met with the
immediate hush of a usually hectic room.  All eyes turned, as Nick moved with
the Review Board group towards the door.  Nothing audible could be heard as
Nick tried to make his way to the exit without catching the gaze of any of the
precinct's officers.  Then from behind him, a voice caught his attention and
he abruptly stopped.  Locating the sound that pierced the silence, he turned
his head to see one of the rookie police officer that had befriended Tracy
Vetter before she had been transferred to the night shift.  The young woman's
long blonde hair had been neatly rolled beneath her uniform's cap, and she
almost stumbled as she moved towards the departing group balancing a large
cardboard box in her arms.

"Detective Knight, Detective Knight."  She caught her breath as she joined
them, and delivered the box into Nick's hands.  "Detective, I was assigned the
task of clearing out your desk.  I think I got everything.  I just put
everything in that was inside the drawers and on top.  I didn't look, I just
packed."  For a brief moment, he smiled at her as she looked over her shoulder
at the other officers and detectives.  "I'm sorry for everything that has
happened to you Detective Knight, we are all sorry.  And we want you to know
that we really don't think that this was handled very fairly.  We want you to
know that we are on your side.  We believe that you were right.  I'm not real
good with words, but we all hope that you realize that we have appreciated all
that you had done here, and how you always treated everyone with respect no
matter what their rank.  You did real good Detective Knight, and we are
honored to have been able to work with you."

Looking much more flushed from embarrassment then before, she began to back
away.  With the sounds of her voice still fresh in everyone's mind, one lone
detective slowly rose to his feet and confidently began to clap his hands.
With his lead, soon another followed and then another.  The momentum grew
until within a minute, the entire room was standing and applauding him as he
stood in stunned silence.  Feeling overwhelmed by this gesture, he quickly
scanned all the faces in the room and smiled.  There were no words that could
express his gratitude.  Feeling too choked up to utter a simple sound; he
mouthed a heartfelt "Thank you."  The men from the Review Board were the last
to join in the ovation, but became the most fervent as they stepped away from
his side.  Feeling as though his heart might burst from the show of acceptance
and support, he pushed through the door.  The roaring thunder of applause
faded into the distance as he left the precinct.

                                   --------

Nick could hear the telephone ringing in the loft apartment before the
elevator door opened, but chose to allow the answering machine to pick it up.
The remote controlled window blinds still stood fully opened making it all the
easier to see how empty the place looked.  Nothing had changed since the
morning he had sped to Nat's apartment to meet LaCroix.  Walking across the
room, he threw his jacket over the leather sofa, and glanced down at the
number of messages that had been left on his machine.  The telephone began to
ring, and again he ignored it.  The machine had already exceeded the limit for
the amount of messages it would store, but continued to provide his
pre-recorded greeting as it tried to accept the calls.  It had been set to
only allow a few rings, but each hollow sound of the ringer reverberated
through the stillness of the loft, and made him shudder.  The loft never felt
emptier.  When he looked towards the fireplace, he could conjure up the feel
of Natalie in his arms as he held her close and promised that no matter what
would happen that they would be together.  He could recall the look of love
and trust in her eyes before she willingly handed over her life to be drained
by the vampire.  And he could not forget the sweet taste of her soul, as the
beast would not withdraw until it was satisfied.  Then the most agonizing of
all the memories attacked his heart, the moment when he had realized that he
had taken too much.  How he wished he could forever erase that memory from his
brain.  How could he remain here and live with the ghosts of what used to be,
haunting him?  For an unknown reason, he could not bring himself to stop
staring at the spot where she had lain so near to death from his act.  The
clear sharp sound of the telephone's ring startled him back to the present.
Glancing back down at the machine he was reminded that it was filled to
capacity, so this time he lifted the receiver to his face.  "Knight."

A voice filled with relief blurted into the phone.  "Thank goodness I finally
got a hold of you.  Are you all right?  Nick, I just got a call, and was told
what they did to you.  I don't want you thinking that this is the end.  If the
Review Board cleared you, then we can appeal.  Damn it Nick, we ARE going to
appeal!"

"Cap, I really appreciate your support, but maybe this is for the best.  Right
now, I am probably not much good to anyone.  Most of my outstanding cases have
been closed anyway.  I am fine, but I am going to miss the place.  I just need
some time to start over."

"Don't go quitting on us Nick.  I'm not about to take this sitting down, and
don't go asking me to drop this.  This was not a just verdict; it was a
personal vendetta.  You know that, we all know it.  I can't afford to lose
you, the department needs you.  Listen Nick, I know a private cop who could
use some help.  We used to work together a while back, but he needed to go out
on his own.  Sort of a loner who doesn't do well with the rules.  Remind you
of anyone?  I know that the two of you would work well together.  You're sort
of like kindred spirits.  What do you say I give him a call until I get you
back here?"

"Captain, I am fine.  Really.  I have enough money so I do not have to work.
I am not even certain that I can find the motivation to start something new
right now."

"Now is the best time Nick.  Get your mind off yourself.  Listen his name is
Weber, Phil Weber.  He had the best shooting scores for three years straight
in the academy.  He always gets his perps, just like you.  And best of all, he
does consultation work with our precinct.  You would still be on our side, but
less public and more private.  I was just thinking the other day how we could
use more help from Phil and of course whoever is working with him.  What do
you say Nick?"

Nick pulled the phone down against his chest and looked around the lonely
loft.  Shaking his head, he took in a deep breath and sighed.  Was Reese
right?  Was he ready to jump back into the water?  And if he did start now,
would he ever have the strength to really follow through?  He sighed again.
If he did not have a reason to wake up tomorrow, what good was this mortality?
Without Nat's love and encouragement and now his job, he would be lost.  With
the receiver pressed firmly against his chest, he could barely make out his
Captain's words.

"Nick, Nick?"

Gripping the telephone tighter, he pulled it back up towards his head.

"Captain, call Mr. Weber and tell him to give me a call about what time I
should start tomorrow."

Nick had to pull the telephone away from his ear as the Captain's excitement
burst through the lines.  "Haha!  Now this is the best news that I've heard in
a long time.  You're doing the right thing Nick.  Being a cop is in your
blood.  Once a cop always a cop.  It is impossible to walk away from, no
matter how bad it treats you.  I'll be seeing you down at the precinct soon,
and after a little while I'm sure that we will be needing you on a more
permanent basis."

"Thanks Captain.  I won't let you down."

"You never have Nick, you never have."

Nick smiled as he hung up the telephone, and shook his head in disbelief.  Now
for the first time in nearly eight hundred years, he felt human not different
or separate.  Although his new mortality was not as perfect as he had
expected, it could still be quite inspiring after all.  Maybe things were
about to turn around.  Feeling suddenly overpowered by hunger; he crossed the
room towards the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator's door.  He could
not stop himself from laughing as he examined the contents, and thought about
what Schanke used to say about the sight of nothing but green bottles.  After
a moment of staring at the supposed wine containers, he slammed the door shut
and turned to a nearby cabinet to retrieve a telephone book.  Opening the
pages to the restaurant section, he stopped to think.  'Now what was the name
of that pizza place that Schanke always dragged him to?'

                                   --------

Natalie roused with a sudden start, and as she tried to sit up, she also tried
to shake away the remnants of her dream.  A spasm of fear rushed through her
as unclear images of her nightmare now faded in and out of reality.
Struggling to calm herself, she cautiously scanned her room.  Near the
headboard of her bed, a man slept sitting up in one of her chairs that she
kept in her living room.  With her dream almost forgotten, she studied the
features of the man and remembered who he was.  He was not a threat to her,
she knew him from the University, but why was he invading her private bedroom?
A dull ache on the side of her neck caused her to reach up and caress the sore
spot.  Again the sensation of two small bumps startled her, but then she
remembered.  Mark was here to help her.  He had said that she had been bitten
and was sick.  Just as she was about to sigh in relief, she was again caught
off guard as a woman dressed in white pushed open her bedroom door.  With a
pleasant and happy look the stranger moved close to her and reached over to
take her pulse.

"Natalie, is it all right to call you that?  Or would you prefer Dr. Lambert?"

Watchfully, Nat followed her movements and carefully gave her a smile.
"Natalie is fine."

"Good.  Well than Natalie, your pulse seems to be good.  Let me take your
blood pressure and temperature now."  As Nat tentatively allowed the nurse to
perform all the standard exams, she looked over at Mark who didn't stir for a
moment.

"37.0, perfect Natalie.  I think you are going to be up and around in no time.
I bet you're happy to hear that."

Nat turned her head from Mark and weakly smiled at the nurse.  Most of what
Mark had told her was coming back, but she wanted to hear what had happened
again now that she was thinking much clearer.  As the nurse sat down and
started to write a few notes about her statistics in a notebook, she summoned
her attention.

"Excuse me.  I'm sorry I don't know your name."

"You can call me Mary."

Nat smiled again.  "Mary."  She stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts.
"Mary, how many days have you been here?"

"I've only been here today, there have been others here before me."

Nat looked over her shoulder at Mark, then brought her gaze back to Mary.

"Has the Doctor been here long?"

"Well, since this is my first day, I can't be certain.  But from the notes on
your chart, I would say that he has been watching your progress very closely.
In fact, I should be waking him up now.  He did want to be notified about you
waking up."

Seeing the nurse rise from her seat, Nat intervened by speaking up.  "Wait!  I
mean could you tell me more about what is wrong with me?"  Her hand reached
towards her neck.  "About what this is?"

"I'm sorry Natalie, but the doctor is in charge of that."

"But I am a doctor."  Nat insisted.

"I meant your doctor.  You of all people should know the rules.  Let me wake
him now, and he will be able to answer all your questions."  Nodding
reluctantly, Nat scooted around to face Mark, who moved stiffly as he woke
from his unnatural sleeping position, but was genuinely happy to see her so
awake.  The nurse handed him her notebook and began to cross over to the other
side of her bed to return to her chair.  Noticing where she was headed, Mark
spoke up.

"Mary, would you please give me a few minutes alone with my patient?"

Surprised, she reminded him that she had already taken all the vital signs and
that everything appeared to be normal, but he was insistent that they have
some privacy.  Still not fully understanding of the need for another exam, she
accepted the doctor's request and moved into the next room to wait for a call
for her assistance.  As soon as the door closed, Mark sat forward, reached for
her wrist, and felt for her pulse.  He seemed not to concentrate on counting
the beats, but instead looked deeply into her eyes and smiled.

"Natalie, you look so much better.  How do you feel?"

"I feel like my life has been turned upside down and I don't know which
direction is up.  I want to know exactly what has been wrong with me.  Tell me
everything and don't spare any details."

A wide smile spread across Mark's mouth.  Natalie was improving.  She was back
to her no nonsense feisty self.  Seeing his broad smile, she started to feel
insulted and pulled her arm from his grasp.  "Is there something funny going
on here?  I wish you would tell me because I could really use a good laugh
right now."

Apologetically, he handed Natalie the chart where all her records of the past
three days had been meticulously stored.  "Natalie, I couldn't do more than
give you everything that I have.  Here, read it.  Maybe you can figure out
what you have almost recovered from.  Everything is there including all your
blood results.  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel annoyed.  I was just
so happy to see you starting to be back to normal again."

With her chart in her hands, she looked up at him.  "No Mark.  I'm the one who
should be apologizing.  You have been here helping me all this time, and the
first think I do is snap at you.  I'm sorry Mark."

An accepting smile again crossed his lips and then he laughed.  "Don't worry
Natalie.  We all know that doctors make the worst patients."

After a brief smile, Nat opened the chart and began to study it with Mark
looking on.  She pored over each page and every entry several times before
looking over to Mark.  "I don't understand.  Every test says that I am fine.
All came back with good results, but I was almost comatose for days.  Even the
tests that you sent off to the infectious disease center came back clean.  You
did everything that I would have done plus some.  It doesn't make sense.  By
all rights, I shouldn't be sick."

Mark moved closer to the bed to sit next to her, closed the chart that lay
across her lap, and placed it next to dying flowers on the end table.  "You
must have something that has not been documented yet.  That animal that bit
you gave you...  I don't know, a new strain of virus.  It might be as simple
as that.  I do know that most likely that we will never know what you picked
up.  It was scary to see you with so many symptoms, but you were never really
in danger.  You're getting better, so let's just look towards the future now."

A smile of relief met Mark's smile, and she relaxed.  Feeling some energy
return, she glanced around the room then looked back at him.  "Mark, I want to
get dressed and get up.  I'm hungry."

"Now that is a good sign!  Are you sure that you are strong enough?"

"I...  I don't know, but I want to try."  Pulling herself towards the end of
the bed, she threw her legs over the side and let them dangle there.  Then
with Mark's help, she stood up, then stood alone.  Moving towards her dresser,
she could not find the sweater that she was looking for, and turned to Mark.
"That's strange.  I know I always keep my blue sweater in this top drawer."

"Maybe it's in the laundry or you lent it to someone.  Or maybe...?  Natalie,
I had wanted to ask you about this anyway.  The morning after Captain Reese
had called me to stay here, I found two packed suitcases in the living room.
Captain Reese had said they were in your car and he had someone bring them up
here.  Were you planning on a trip the night all this happened?"

Feeling weak again, Nat moved back to the bed to sit down.  After things just
had seemed to become clearer, there was again something new to wonder about.
Natalie closed her eyes and sighed.  If there was a trip in her plans, she had
no idea where to or for how long.  Feeling frightened and lost, she looked
over at Mark who sat down in the chair before her.  "I don't remember Mark.
Did anyone check on flights or buses that I might have been scheduled on?"

"I had Captain Reese do all that already.  There was no record anywhere.
Nothing with your name was on any form of public transportation.  You must
have been going somewhere by car or maybe with someone else.  Can you think
back to that night?  We know that you were quite upset about Laura, but no one
remembers you saying that you were leaving."

Her hands moved up to cover her face, and she rubbed at her throbbing temples.
"I had just finished with Laura's autopsy.  I remember holding the journal she
had left for me.  I remember crying.  But something's wrong.  Not just Laura's
death.  I feel like something in my life is missing.  I need an answer
tonight."

"An answer?  To what Natalie?  To why Laura killed herself?"

Standing up suddenly, she crossed her arms over her chest as if to hold
herself and Mark immediately stood next to her and held her to him.  She stood
frightened in his embrace with her crossed arms still separating them and
softly spoke in a far away voice.  "I don't know, I just needed an answer."
Feeling cold, she broke away from him.  "Mark would you check to see if my
blue sweater is in one of those suitcases?"  Helping her sit again, he moved
into the other room and sent the nurse in.  Not wanting to waste too much
time, he hurriedly unzipped the largest suitcase first, and haphazardly
rummaged through the neatly packed clothes.  Finding nothing blue, he rapidly
turned his attention to the smaller of the bags, and in his haste, he turned
the bag over and emptied it onto the floor.  Immediately, his eyes caught the
pale blue item and he reached for it in the midst of the other clothes.  As
his hand went to grip the sweater, he felt a harder surface, and slid it out
from beneath the clothes.  Only a small black notebook emerged from the
garments, but why would she take an old notebook on a trip?  He flipped open
the book, and began to read entries.  It was some sort of ongoing study that
she was conducting on her own.  He looked carefully at the structural drawings
that she had made.  There were sets of DNA nucleotides that did not exist.
What was she working on?  Maybe this was the clue to her illness.  Remembering
that she was waiting for the sweater, he placed the notebook deep into his
jacket pocket, then picked up her sweater before returning to her.  Later, he
would have time to examine it more closely.
 
 

End Part Two

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