Do you believe in magic?  Do you think that your favorite "Forever Knight"
characters believe in magic?  Better wait before you answer that.  This
piece of fan fiction takes place late in the second season.  In this story
LaCroix, Janette, Schanke, Natalie, and Nicholas are about to reevaluate the
paths that they have been traveling.  Are they content with their chosen
paths?  What if they were able to fulfill their deepest desires?  Each is
about to discover a magic that makes wishes come true, and each will have
the opportunity to experience a different path.  In the end some may regret
the path not taken, but all will grow, and life (or unlife) will never be
the same again.

Okay, this is fantasy, but if you did not like fantasy you would not be
here. We all know that the series was not beyond going outside of reality.
Two episodes that clearly stand out are "Curiouser and Curiouser" and "Dead
of Night."  So sit back, get comfortable, and watch as some life altering
events begin to play out.

My sincere gratitude again to Rosemary for her perceptive beta reading work,
and for her amazing speed.  She is definitely any writers granted wish come
true.  She has proven to be a true treasure.

As always a special thank you to my husband Neil, whose encouragement and
patience seems to show no bounds.  I could never adequately express how much
his inspiration and support have meant.  He is the source of my contentment
on my own personal taken path.

Archive Permission:  Permission to archive to Mel's FKFanfic Archive, and to
the FK FTP site IS GRANTED.  All others must ask permission.

Disclaimers:  The Forever Knight characters belong to Columbia Tri/Star.  No
copyright infringement is intended.  This story and all other characters are
copyrighted by me.

Please send all comments to [email protected]
 

Part One

******

"Tonight gentle listeners, we are pondering on the allusive feeling of
contentment.  The word exists in our language, yet how many of us can truly
say that we have achieved it?  Who among us has experienced the comforting
peace that accompanies it?  Contentment is within all of our reach and
carries no high price, yet so few of us can honestly admit to ourselves that
there is not something more that we desire.  Something that lurks in our
hearts with each of its life giving beats.

So what is it then that keeps us from possessing this ability to be happy
with our lot?  Why must we always regret what has been done, and long for
that which we know we can not have?  Could it be the anger in our hearts
that is an obstacle to our serenity?  Anger that drags us down over what
could have been or what can never be.  Or is it, that the reasons we are
never satisfied, stem from our perceived control of our affairs or the lack
of it?  Somehow believing that we are controlled by chance, makes us feel
cheated.  And believing that we are in complete control, rapidly discloses
our power as an illusion.

Unless we are content to accept all that is done to us and all that we have
done to ourselves, then we shall never experience the gratification that
comes with true contentment.  I have never seen contentment, even in those
who can have it all.  It seems that the word is only on the lips of those
who watch the young child play, and describes those who have no capacity to
think. Ignorance is truly bliss my friends, and I shall never be appeased."

Turning off the microphone, LaCroix stared at the crystal goblet in which
remained only a few drops of bloodwine.  The electronic lights from the
sound room, endlessly reflected off the glass.  Gazing at the brilliant
sparkling colors that reflected from the glass, he sighed deeply.  How much
like the stars these colors glistened.  As brightly as the reflection in her
eyes that magical night so many centuries ago.  If only he had never met
her, for until then he had never known of love.  Now, because of her, he
would never again be ignorant of the pain of love lost.  How much better to
have never known, for one can never travel back to mend a broken heart.

Their love had been a once in a lifetime love, once in several lifetimes.
How could it be that after all this time, that a day would not pass that he
did not think of her?  This was his obstacle to contentment.  This
unyielding memory of Fleur and their love.  His heart became hard and cold
as he bitterly murmured to himself.

"What is the value in something that only lasts a short time?"

Rising from his chair, he picked up his glass and swirled the remaining
amount of human blood and wine before consuming it in one quick movement.
The early morning CERK radio announcer had arrived, and already had begun to
arrange the music for his shift.  No words or looks were exchanged between
the two announcers as always, for it was the way he had wanted it.  Even
with all the time in the universe on his side and his emptiness, he could
find no reason to resort to idle chat.  Still, this was the time of the
night that allowed the loneliness of the centuries to creep in.  This final
lingering hour of darkness in which his solitude made him feel hollow.  The
weight of timeless foreverness joined with his loneliness.

As he walked past the small crew of CERK operators, he pulled on a
lightweight black duster.  Treasuring the knowledge that not one dared to
speak to him as he took his usual path towards the back door that led into
the alley.  In the three years that he had exited there, it was always
desolate.  Infrequently, the occasional drunk would wander in, but was so
disoriented that his take off into the darkness went unnoticed.

Effortlessly pushing open the heavy metal door that led into the alley, he
cringed from its loud rusty squeak.  No doubt that it had been a while since
any maintenance personnel had braved to explore this means of departure.

Although not bothered by the cool early morning air of Autumn, he could feel
the frigid breeze push against his tall imposing body.  As he held the door,
the light from the radio station poured into the darkened alley way.  He
released the door, allowing it to loudly slam close from its own weight.
Comfortably, he leaned back into the shadows.  Glancing towards the sky, he
prepared for his routine flight home.  As he gazed into the darkness, he was
suddenly caught off guard and thrown against the side of the building as a
man recklessly rounded the corner of the building and rushed past him.
Angry about his unexpected change of plans, he began to straighten himself
with thoughts of seizing the fool and teaching him some manners.  However,
within seconds, another stranger appeared at the alley's entrance.  As
LaCroix silently watched, the new intruder took aim and fired two shots into
the first rude mortal that had disturbed him.  Both shots struck the fleeing
man in the back.  As the bullets ripped through him, the man immediately
fell to his knees.  The gunman raced to him and easily threw him to the
ground.  Standing quietly, LaCroix listened to the gunman's angry words.

"What have you done with it?"

There was no answer from the man as he lie bleeding on the cold gravel
struggling to breathe.  The gunman sweated as it took him less than a minute
to search the dying man's clothes.  Frustrated, the gunman aimed the gun at
his victim's face.

"Tell me what you did with it, and I won't kill you!"

A hoarse whispered voice forced its way from the dying man as he coughed and
squirmed in pain.

"It's cursed.  I'm already dead, and so are you."

"SHUT UP!"  The gunman screamed out at his victim as he used his gun to
strike at his head.  The blow silenced the man, as his attacker aimed the
gun one last time at the bleeding man's head and fired.  The sound of the
shot echoed throughout the alley, yet no one seemed to notice.  Again
LaCroix backed into the shadows as the killer stumbled past him and into the
pre-dawn street.

LaCroix glanced down the alley with his night vision at what remained of the
mortal who had interrupted his flight home.  Although this had proven to be
quite entertaining, he wondered what it was that had allowed this mortal to
give up his life.  Listening carefully for a heartbeat, he entertained the
thought that he should at least be compensated by this mortal for his delay
with a small snack.  Some nourishment for his journey home, no reason to let
a good meal go to waste.  He smiled, just one for the road.  The man's
heartbeat was faint, and completely extinguished before he took his first
step.  'Oh well, he did provide for an interesting show.' Anyway, his blood
reeked of something foul.  Turning to leave, his foot struck an object, and
he looked down.  A dark velvet pouch which was fastened tightly with a gold
colored cord, lay by his feet.  Reaching down to pick up the bag, he
realized that this was the gunman's desired object.  The object worth dying
for, worth killing for.  The dead man must have dropped it when he so
carelessly collided into him in the dark while he rushed to elude his
pursuer.  Placing the velvet bag deeply into his pocket, he decided that
this may be something to provide him with an interesting diversion for the
day.  A final glance around, and he took off into the lightening sky.  All
that remained in the alley was the crumpled remains of an unfortunate
mortal.

******

It was only a short flight to the towering building that held his penthouse
apartment.  After landing on his balcony, he turned and looked back at the
distant tall black shape that was the CN tower.  Although there remained a
few more minutes to sunrise, it was still easy to see all the buildings that
crowded the city's landscape with their lighted windows.  The horizon's
color had almost completely lightened, and he twisted around to slide the
glass door to the side and slip into his empty apartment.  After securely
locking the sliding glass door, he stretched out his arm to pull close the
heavy darkened curtains which covered the entire length of the wall.
Removing his coat and lying it over the chair, reminded him of the object
that it contained as it struck the wood with a dull thump.  He had to admit
that he was a bit curious about the bag's contents, but his hunger drove him
to seek out some sustenance before examining his unexpected prize.

Moving towards the spotless stainless steel kitchen, he smiled when he
noticed that Janette had remembered to send someone over with his order.  A
wooden crate sat on top of the round chrome table which stood at the side of
the room.  After sliding one bottle up after another, he finally settled on
one that caught his eye.  Yes, Janette always sent a nice assortment, he
would have to remember to compliment her on her choices at their next
encounter. After filling one of his crystal goblets from his selected
bottle, he retreated to the living room and settled back on a lavish leather
chair. Again his attention became drawn to the hidden object that lay
waiting for him in his coat's pocket.  After a few sips, he relented to his
inquisiveness, placed his glass down, and retrieved his coat.  Reaching into
his pocket, he emerged with the velvet bag and pulled apart the gathering at
the top that held it together.  His hand was too large to fit inside the
bag, so he turned it upside down to empty it of its contents.  A silver
candlestick spilled out onto the sofa next to him, but he continued to
vigorously shake the bag. Where were the jewels or the valuable coins that
the mortal had thrown away his life for?  The bag contained nothing else.
Feeling his anger begin to build, he grabbed at the candlestick and hissed.

"Stupid mortal!  This is what you died for.  Nothing more than a mere
souvenir in which to burn a candle.  It's value in silver not much more than
a few hundred dollars."

Another look at the candlestick and he realized that it was quite old,
probably centuries old.  Grinning, he murmured sarcastically.

"So that is your value, still hardly worth dying for."  Twisting and turning
the silver object, he noticed that it was engraved.  Engraved in an Old
Latin that he had not seen used since the Middle Ages.

"How quaint.  It seems this piece of silver comes with its own story to read
by the candle light that it can shed."

Perhaps this was not a total loss after all.  It might make for an
interesting topic on tonight's show on CERK radio.  It might even be worth
the few moments it will take to translate it.  As he studied the
inscription, two words stood out, truth and desires.  Beginning to now have
second thoughts on the benefit of deciphering these words, he became
annoyed.  What mystical dribble had someone conceived and applied to this
poor piece of workmanship?  Yet he persevered, after all he really would
need all the words if he were to expose this as the mockery it was.  Walking
to the far end of the room, he picked up a notebook and a pen, and returned
to the sofa to once again view the article.

The lettering was very worn, and numerous words had to be guessed at.  The
first line was the least difficult to decipher.  He read the line as he
finished writing it.

"To confront the truth that is masked in darkness."

Well, not the most eloquent words, yet not the worst he had ever seen
either. Rubbing at the tarnished letters did not make them any easier to
read. Even though he saw clearly, a little extra light might be helpful.  He
could feel that a bright sun was throwing its light on the city outside his
window, but his dense curtains did not allow for even the tinniest of rays
to filter through.  Some candlelight might help in clarifying some of the
words.  After lighting several candles, he brought one near to the sofa
where he worked. Handling the candlestick made him aware that it had some
weight to it considering its small size.  Probably one and a half kilograms
of solid silver were needed to produce it.  Rotating the cylinder shaped
piece of metal in one hand, he allowed the glow from the candle to
illuminate the etched letters as he continued to write and repeat the words.

"To obtain the desire most impenetrable,
disclose your innermost thoughts and feelings
which lay heavily in the center of emotions."

His irritation limit was about to be exceeded.

"What kind of sham is this?  Some frivolous deception using paltry poetry!"
Some madman's cruel version of a joke to have others believe that their
wishes could come true by some sort of magical words.  He had seen far too
much to believe in the occult or any other form of mysticism.  This was more
of Nicholas's domain, he was the one to always chase after the mythological.
Yes, only Nicholas would hold close to such deception.  But what
conversation and lunatics could this topic draw out when he presented it
tonight.  With renewed interest he turned back to the inscription and tried
to interpret the remaining words.  Picking up the pen, he completed the
lines of the poem.

Then proclaim by the light of the candle that burns within
your longing desire.  So that you may taste
of your yearnings just once.

If the message that one could be granted their wish were not so pathetic, he
would find some amusement from it.  To think that one mortal had killed and
another been killed over this worthless candle holder even disgusted him.
Killing was so much more than for money or a wish.  Such a waste.  Why kill
if not for food or for power?  Killing was even easily understandable if it
were to calm the deep passion of anger or hatred.  But to kill for this mere
memento of by gone days was incomprehensible.  Over the centuries, he had
witnessed killing in all its forms, and there never was anything new.  But
it was the senseless robbing of life that eluded him.  Of the thousands upon
thousands of lives he had taken, not one soul had been stolen without good
cause or reason.  As he studied the antique, he knew that there existed no
reason for the forfeiting of the life that he had witnessed.  A waste, a
death with no profit.  He sighed, "Oh well, maybe it has some value as a
candleholder, after all it is not all that painful to look at."  Reaching
over to one of the dozens of candles that were lit throughout the room, he
pulled one from its container and placed it in the ancient silver piece.
Although painful to his eyes, he found himself drawn to the luminous glow
that it shed. The reflection that it cast was so brilliant that it was
necessary for him to close his eyes for a moment.  The candle light suddenly
softened to a warm glow, and his frustration and suspicion grew.

"What manner of trickery is this?  Now I am certain that I have been
spending too much time listening to Nicholas's rantings of the
supernatural."

Leaning back on his sofa, he picked up the words he had just translated and
skeptically studied them.  Cynicism dripped from his voice as he spoke.

"So there is nothing left to do but to declare my desire."  He shook his
head sadly.

"If only such magic existed."

End Part 1

As he closed his eyes, he became lost in his thoughts.  A perfect picture
formed of the only woman he had ever loved.  His heart felt as if it were
being wrenched from his chest as he recalled her large trusting and loving
eyes pleading with him to take her.  In over two thousand years, losing her
had been his only regret.  As he relived her words and her touch, he
whispered in agony.

"Fleur, my only desire."

A powerful rush of wind ripped through the room, causing almost all the
candles to become extinguished and startling him to sit up.  Yet his
attention was captured by the echoing sound of the knocking at his apartment
door. Feeling slightly disoriented, he could not imagine who could be
visiting him by way of the door especially at this time of day.  All that he
knew landed on the balcony.  He must have not securely closed the balconies
door, for it had allowed the air to enter, and was now causing the door to
vibrate.  There must be a storm brewing that had generated a breeze strong
enough to extinguish all his candles.  No, not all.  The one in the newly
acquired candle holder still burned softly.  The sound of someone lightly
tapping on his door came again. Not the wind, then who would dare to disturb
his daytime sleep?  Surely a mortal salesman would not want to be asked into
his place before he had neither slept nor fed.  Ignoring the knock from his
door, he walked over to lock his sliding glass door.  The heat from the sun
penetrated both the glass and the curtains.  Not wishing to feel the sun's
searing rays, he felt for the door's lock through the curtains, and could
immediately determine that the door had been securely locked.  Uncertain of
the origin of the air that had broken into his residence, he began to scan
the room for other explanations. Again his focus became directed to his door
as the intolerable rapping continued.  Whoever ventured to disregard him
like this, would surely pay. Angrily he rushed to the door and tore it open,
but what he saw made him feel as he did the night that Divia his master had
drained him of his blood.

"Lucien"

His mouth opened to speak to her, but no words came out.  Briefly he closed
his eyes as renewed pain of her lost beauty and love swept over him.
Re-opening his eyes, he stared at her in disbelief.  Longing to touch her,
he instead backed away becoming overwhelmed with her memory.  After putting
a short distance between them, his shock subsided and he struggled to try
and explain her presence.

"You are again in my dreams."

Calmly and with longing, she moved towards him and reached out to stroke his
cheek.  He pulled away as if her touch would burn him as the sun, but then
he allowed her loving caress.  A touch that penetrated through so many
layers of pain.  Moving closer to him, she whispered.

"I am not a dream Lucien.  May I enter your living quarters?"

As if being awoken from a spell, he again pulled away from her.  Hurtfully,
she watched him resist her, yet she knew that he would have to accept that
she had come for him.  Turning, she took a few steps towards the opened door
to close it.  It was not difficult for her to see that the daylight from the
hall windows was painful for him.  Silently, he watched her kind actions
just as the day she had tried to comfort him from his burns when they had
first met. But she had been made to forget their love, and had died the wife
of another man.  He was the only one to have carried their love throughout
the centuries. Her mortal remains had long since turned to dust.  His glare
penetrated her as she stood before him with only the glow from the one
candle to display her beauty.

"I will wake from this dream of you soon, and I will again be tormented by
your absence."

"Lucien, so much was never said, and I regret that I have only left you with
several lifetimes of pain."

"No Fleur.  You brought me love."

Her eyes searched his pained expression.

"But what good has come about from our love?"

Taking a small step towards her, he stopped.

"Fleur, it is not your love and purity that devours my existence.  It is the
absence of all that you are that has consumed me."

Tears slowly began to fill her eyes as she moved next to him and placed her
head against his chest.  Desperately he tried to resist her, straining to
build a wall between them.  Tightly closing his eyes, he tried to push away
the thought of her closeness, knowing that he could never again bear the
pain of losing her once more.  As he stood stiff and cold, she began to sob
against him.  The sound of her cries dissolved his strength, and he found
himself reaching down to guide her face towards his.  When their eyes met,
he tenderly smiled.

"If this is a dream, then I hope that I shall never awaken from it.  You
have again made my pain evaporate at your touch."

"Lucien, you did not receive the candlestick by accident.  Our bond has
never been broken.  The love we shared did not disappear with Nicholas's
words. Yes, I did forget for a little while, and when it all came back to
me, you were gone.  I searched for over a year only to return home in tears
each morning.  My Mother thought me overcome with grief, and quickly
arranged for my marriage to ease my loneliness.  I had no choice.  I had
lost you forever, but I never stopped thinking or loving you.  Each day I
prayed that you would return.  When my precious André was born, I would tell
him stories of the mysterious man who would one night come and make us as
eternal as the stars. I never gave up hope that we would one day be
together.  Even as I lay dying, my love for you grew stronger.  So long I
have waited for this reunion."

All her words pounded in his head.  Had the accident of finding the
candlestick not been an accident at all?  Had it granted him his wish to be
with her?  This was too much to assimilate, and he went to the sofa to sit
down.  Following him, she sat silently next to him and took his hand in
hers.

"Lucien, for the hundreds of years since we have met, I have always felt
your love for me.  Your pining has brought you so much suffering.  It has
even effected you to cause others to anguish.  You have harbored tremendous
resentment towards my brother for trying to protect me.  Did you believe
that I desired this?  Is this how you wanted to memorialize our feelings for
one another?  Is this my tribute?  What level have you taken our love to?"

Tears slid down her face as he pulled her closer to him.  Their love had
been so special that both of them had carried it with them.  He through the
changing centuries, and she beyond death.  Had he really perverted what they
had?  Reduced his feelings for her to only bitterness?

"Lucien, your love has been as much a comfort for me as it has been a
torment. You have chosen to sour the love you have felt.  What benefit is
that to you? Please do not devalue what we had.  When you think of me, I
have felt your anger, but our feelings were so pure, so much more than that.
  How did it change so?"

"Fleur, I have never been angry with you.  It was Nicholas who interfered,
and came between us.  I wanted to love you for all of eternity."

"YES!  And that is exactly what you have done.  You have loved me everyday
since we have met, and I you.  Nicholas did not take away your love for me,
it is only you who embittered what we had.  Our love is truly eternal.  We
will share this special closeness forever.  We have been together through
all of eternity.  I have come to ask you to feel our love the way it was
when we were together, not the anger you have carried with you since we have
been apart."

"If only it were that simple."

"Lucien, we have been granted a gift on this day.  You now know that I am
always with you.  I am the love that you deny for yourself and others.
Remember, it was your wish for us to be eternally in love, and we are.  Do
not deny others because of what we had.  You will never regret feeling the
good parts of love and of yourself.  Yes Lucien, I loved you and I saw the
good. It does exist in you even though you try so to resist it.  You are not
so different from Nicholas, he has picked up some of his values from you.
Is it not the parent who transmits their characteristics to their children?
Please Lucien, remember me as I remember you with complete love."

The pain of the empty centuries began to fade as he listened to her.

"How did I ever deserve your love, my Fleur?"

"We have been very lucky to have experienced a love so great.  I love you
Lucien, forever.  Our love will be forever."

He had never felt such peace as he whispered.

"Yes, forever........"

Pulling her into his content embrace, they held each other until the sun
vanished from the sky and the candle was completely expired.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and pulled his head up from the sofa's back
pillow.  Looking around in the darkness, he could see that she was gone.  A
dream, just as he had expected, but this time something was different.  He
felt different.  Her closeness could still be felt, it was as if she were
still with him.  As if he could still feel the warmth of her embrace if only
he dared to think of it.  A dream, yet so real.  Could a dream be so potent
as to allow a calmness to fill the empty loneliness that had been his
constant companion since Fleur's induced forgetfulness?  The memory of her
words came back to him.  Had he really turned their love into something
loathsome?  One as lovely and as graceful as Fleur could never be associated
with such ill favor.  With his eyes now clutched tightly in pain, he rubbed
at his head wondering how he had managed to pervert their passionate
affections. Re-opening his eyes, his view fell on the candlestick that cast
a dark shadow on the glass table before him.  Moving forward to retrieve the
old candle holder, he felt a sharp pain pierce his finger.  His attention
shifted to what lay beside the candlestick.  A warmth spread throughout his
body and surrounded his heart.  There on the table next to the candlestick
lay a single white rose.

End Part 2

******

Nick left the red revolving light flashing on his dashboard as he pushed the
Caddy's door closed.  It was so much more desirable to be able to arrive at
the scene of a crime early, instead of having to wait for the late summer
sun to set.  Turning back the clocks meant that the days were becoming
shorter, but he did not need a clock to tell him that.  Long Autumn and
Winter days made his body feel alive with energy.  The night's pull was like
that of a magnet to his kind, causing him to feel restless with renewed
levels of arousal.  Less daylight meant more freedom, less restrictions for
all he felt compelled to accomplish.  He knew that Schanke dreaded the
approach of the cool short days, but his own world opened up.  Although the
warmer days allowed him the freedom of not layering himself with unnecessary
clothes, it also added extra hours of daylight.  Sunlight that only weighed
him down, tiring and weakening him.  Even when protected and safely out of
the direct light, the hours of daytime penetrated his sanctuary with its
oppressiveness. The time of light, always reaching out to him and demanding
that he sleep.  A sleep that resembled death.  Over the centuries, he had
devised methods to help him maneuver during the day, but it was in the
darkness that he shined. The night belonged to him, this was when he ruled.
Each evening as the drag from the daylight left, the strength of his powers
grew.  All his senses heightened as his body prepared him for the hunt.  But
tonight his prey would not be his breakfast.  Tonight he would hunt, but not
for food.  With this darkness he would search for a killer that needed to be
brought to justice. With his senses still excited, he would meet Schanke his
partner.  Together they would try to pick up a trail, and begin a hunt that
would lead them to a killer.

As he walked past Schanke's car, the disturbing feelings of investigating a
crime at this particular location surfaced again.  The first time was only
thirty minutes ago when Schanke had called to have him join him at the scene
instead of first going to the precinct.  A murder only steps away from where
his master amused himself as a radio announcer.  A shudder shook him as he
silently pleaded that this death had nothing to do with the evil creature
that lurked each night at this station.  Pushing the thought from his head,
his attention was directed to the sound of Schanke's complaining voice.
Stopping in his tracks, he couldn't stop himself from grinning and shaking
his head at his partners over dramatic actions.  Uniformed officers and
forensic workers were scattering as Schanke yelled out directions to the
poor driver of the Coroner's van who could not seem to get the wide vehicle
into the narrow alley.  It looked as if Schanke had once again taken control
of the situation, not that anyone wanted or needed his help.  From his
vantage point it was impossible to determine who was becoming more
frustrated, his partner or the driver.  As the driver slowly backed in, the
sound of metal from the side of the truck hitting the brick wall caused
Schanke to slam his fist against its back door.

"Hey, where did you learn to drive?"

The driver got out, and looked at the new damage.

"I told you, there was no way I could fit into that alley, and now you just
caused hundreds of dollars in repairs by your impossible directions!"

"Oh yeah, Well why don't I just do your job too?  Doesn't anyone know how to
do anything right anymore?"

The van driver angrily stepped closer to him, and Schanke eagerly met his
challenge.  At that moment Nick calmly moved between the two and pushed them
apart.  Nick pointed to the entrance to the alley way as he spoke to the
driver.

"This is where you were trying to place the van?"

The driver nodded, his eyes filled with anger and his teeth clenched.  Nick
walked across the narrow opening, and shook his head as he turned to
Schanke.

"The van can not fit Schank, better stick to your own job."

The driver just smiled at Schanke and turned back to his van as Nick began
to walk deeper into the now lighted and extremely crowded alley.  Shaking
his head in frustration, Schanke caught up with his partner and pulled him
to one side.

"You could have backed me up so I didn't look like a fool, Nick"

"Schanke, if you don't want to look like a fool then......." he stopped and
smiled at his anxious partner and decided not to pursue the topic.

"Why don't you fill me in on the case?"

Taking in a deep breath, Schanke let it out hard as he tried to calm
himself. After a minute of staring at his partner, he looked down at his
notes.

"The victim is a young Caucasian male with no ID, and appears to have been
shot in the back and head with no witnesses."

Nick breathed a sigh of relief.  The victim was killed with a gun.  That
probably meant that they were dealing with a mortal killer and not a
vampire. Glancing down the alley, he then turned back to Schanke.

"I can understand why there were no witnesses back here.  Who found the
body?"

"No one.  It was an anonymous call that led us here.  If it were not for
that call, we might not have found him for months.  Do you think any people
ever come back here?"

Looking back at the side entrance to the CERK radio station, he answered.

"No Schank, no people come back here."

Both detectives made a path to where Dr. Natalie Lambert was preparing the
body to be taken back to the Morgue for autopsy.  Schanke finished
responding to Nick's last comment as they got to the body.

"Well, here lies the one person who made the mistake of coming back here.  I
hope you have something for us cause there doesn't seem to be anything
else."

Removing her latex gloves, Nat stood up and faced the detectives.

"This man was in bad shape, probably beyond hope."

Smiling Schanke broke into the conversation first.

"And we need a medical expert to tell us that.  Man O Man Nat the guy has
two bullets in his back, and his head was almost blown off.  I could have
told you that it was probably a bad idea for him to be making any long term
investments."

Both Nick and Nat threw an annoyed glance at Schanke as Nick turned back to
the doctor.

"Sorry Nat, try not to let him get to you, he is still upset over trying to
have the Coroner's van become a permanent part of the scenery."

Schanke angrily glared back at his partner.

"You always think that you are the only one who can be right, don't you?"

Nat loudly cleared her throat.

"As I was saying.  This man was fatally sick before these wounds.  I'm going
to have to run a multitude of tests, but he was already dying and it would
have been soon."

Nick glanced back at the CERK's side door exit, then turned back to Natalie.

"Have you been able to come up with an approximate TOD?"

Quickly, she browsed through her notes.

"Yes, luckily that anonymous call really helps pin down a time.  I can place
the time of death within a two hour margin of error.  Some time between 6:00
and 8:00 am this morning."

Feeling his stomach sink, all his optimism about LaCroix not being able to
be involved, now disappeared.  Without any hesitation he knew the time of
sunrise better than anything else.  Today, the sun rose at 7:20.  There was
plenty of time for LaCroix to have been involved or to know what happened.
The thought of adding his master to his list of potential witnesses, made
him shudder. This would be one interview that he would keep confidential,
and hopefully if LaCroix did know something, he would tell him.  The sound
of Natalie's voice broke into his thoughts, and he tried to act as though he
had listened to her last comments, as she asked.

"So what do you think he was looking for?"

In a flash, Schanke saw that Nick had not heard a word that Nat had just
said, and he responded for his partner.

"If you're waiting for the maharishi here to answer from his trance Nat,
then good luck.  My opinion is that the guy got popped while trying to
resist his mugger."  Schanke turned to Nick.  "So now that you have decided
to join us, why do think the guy's clothes were so torn up?"

"He was looking for something, and he didn't find it."

Schanke chuckled.  "Obviously he was looking for something, but how do you
know that he didn't find it Sherlock?  He had no ID, no wallet on him,
remember?"

Moving closer to the body once more, he stared hard for a moment then turned
away.

"The two shots in the back look like they were fired from a distance, and he
was bleeding from them.  Those two shots did not kill him, but they brought
him down.  He was being chased.  Someone knew what he had, and wanted it.
His clothes were torn apart in an effort to locate what the murder thought
he had. It was not for money, his pants pockets have not even been touched.
Whatever it was, had to have been too large to fit into his pocket.  He was
not looking for a wallet.  The bullet that killed him, the one to the head,
was done out of frustration.  He did not have what the killer wanted."

Schanke clapped his hands.  "An interesting story, but how do plan on
proving it?"

"I don't know Schanke."

A smirk crossed Schanke's lips as he sarcastically announced loudly.

"He doesn't know?  Could it be that our hero is not all knowing?  What will
happen to our hero now?  Stay tuned fans to our next exciting episode of the
amazing super-cop Nick Knight."

"Okay Schanke, now that you got that out of your system, let's see if we can
locate a witness around here.  Maybe even find that anonymous caller."  Nick
turned back to Natalie.  "If anything shows up in the autopsy, let us know
right away."

Nat nodded as Nick followed Schanke out onto the sidewalk in front of CERK
radio.  Looking at the CERK radio sign above his head, Schanke grinned at
Nick.

"I'd bet my Aunt Fanny that one of the psychos that works here was involved.
Isn't this that station that you listen to?  You know, that Nightmare guy."

"It's Nightcrawler.  Yeah, it makes the most sense to talk with them first.
Let's go in and see if we can get any leads."

As they started to walk, in the coroner's driver stopped Schanke.

"Detective, I'm making sure that your name is on the accident report about
my van's damages."

"That's fine with me.  I plan on letting them know what kind of dangerous
drivers they are hiring."

With a disgusted look, the driver turned to go back to his van, and Schanke
looked over at Nick.

"He's just like you Knight, both of you don't appreciate how lucky you are
that I am here."

Nick smiled.

"Oh you're wrong Schank, I do appreciate the fact that you are here
directing vans, and not at the airport trying to bring in planes."

"You know Knight, you should have been a comedian instead of a cop."

Still smiling, Nick pushed open the door to the radio station and walked in
with Schanke directly behind him.

End Part 3
 

Onto Parts Four - Six!