========================== The Price of Perseverance By Cindy Ingram June 2000 ========================== The loft was dark -- pitch dark -- and for a moment, Natalie thought she would be forced to feel her way across the room, relying on a somewhat questionable sense of direction to lead her to the nearest light switch. She was reluctant to risk her shins, but neither was she willing to give up and go away, as Nick so obviously hoped she would, leaving him to brood in peace. He might have chosen not to respond when she'd called his name, but she knew he was there. The closed shutters alone were proof of that. Normally, they were open to the night. As Natalie reached out, having decided she might fare better by following the wall around to the kitchen, a match flared, setting off a mad dance of light and shadows that skittered across the ceiling and floor. At the center of the flickering array was Nick's face, illuminated now by the warm glow of a candle, which he carefully placed atop the grand piano. "So you *are* home," she observed. "And here I thought I was a lone voice crying in the wilderness." She regarded him with a shrewd stare. "You were hoping if you ignored me I'd give up and go away. But you should know by now that tactic doesn't work with me, Nick." Nick, however, seemed unconvinced. Rather than acknowledge her presence, he refused to look at her and instead seated himself on the piano bench, his gaze settling on a dark corner at the far end of the loft. Natalie sighed, letting the elevator door slide shut behind her, then slowly crossed to the piano and sank down beside him. "You want to talk about it?" "No." At least he'd answered this time. That was some kind of progress, she supposed. "Okay." She fell silent a few seconds, then ... "But you know, Nick, it's not good to keep something like this bottled up inside you." He stared stubbornly ahead as a few more seconds ticked by, a cold mask of indifference hiding his thoughts. But despite outward appearances, she could almost feel the emotions churning inside him. It was only a matter of time before they spilled forth. Almost on cue ... "What is it you think I'm keeping bottled up, Nat?" he asked. The words were angry, almost accusatory, though she suspected the anger was aimed more at himself than at her. Natalie shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "That's right! You couldn't possibly know," he agreed harshly, challenging her with a hard stare. Then, visibly reining himself in, he turned away. When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost devoid of inflection. "There's nothing you can do here. Everything's fine. Go home." "Fine, huh?" She let a little of her own anger and frustration escape. "Is that why you took off from the middle of a crime scene without any warning or explanation -- because everything's fine? Is that why you're sitting here at home in the middle of a work shift when you didn't even bother to book off? Which, by the way, Schanke took care of for you. Just before he called me." "He shouldn't have done that," Nick said sullenly. "Done what ... cover for his partner or care what happens to you?" "Either ... both." Natalie sighed. Realizing the futility of arguing with Nick in his present frame of mind, she chose not to respond. Instead, she rose from the bench and headed for the light switch. If she was going to spend an undetermined amount of time trying to pry information from a morose vampire, it wouldn't be by candlelight. As the lights came on, Nick blinked in mild discomfort but seemed otherwise oblivious. Returning to his side, Natalie resumed her seat on the bench and studied his profile. "It has something to do with the crime scene," she surmised. "Schanke said you were fine until then." He remained silent. "Okay," she said, thinking out loud. "What was it about the crime scene? Schanke didn't really give me any details. Just that the body of a young male, early 20s, was found in a seedy motel room -- cause of death undetermined as yet." She eyed him speculatively. "My first guess would be that it reminded you of something in your past." Not a flicker of response. "No, huh? Well, then ... what about the victim? Did *he* remind you of someone?" If she hadn't been watching so closely, she might have missed the telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it was enough to tell her she'd hit pay dirt with only two tries. Then again, it would hardly take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Was there anything that *didn't* remind Nick of someone or something from his past? She pursed her lips, considering the ramifications. "Was he someone you knew well? The person the victim reminded you of, I mean." He didn't answer. "Someone you cared about?" Still no answer. "Someone you ... killed?" Natalie knew she was taking a chance with that one, considering Nick's present state. But it *was* the most obvious answer, and if he was drowning in freshly resurrected guilt, then ignoring that possibility wouldn't solve anything. She must have hit it right again. At her question, Nick flinched and rose from the bench, as if by putting distance between them, he could prevent her from delving deeper. He was wrong, of course. "Nick, whatever you might have done in the past, you're not responsible --" Nick waved his hand to stop her, grimacing impatiently. "That isn't it, Nat. This isn't about anything that happened a long time ago. I never saw him before last night." "Well, then what --" She stopped, frowning abruptly. "Wait ... *last* night? You mean tonight, right?" He merely stood there, staring at the floor. "Nick?" "I saw him last night ... at the Raven." His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him. "He was with one of the young ones -- someone I hadn't seen before. She was dancing with him. They were all over each other." He stopped, glancing at her briefly before looking away. She, too, felt the unspoken implications and nodded. "Hot and heavy on the dance floor, a seedy motel room 24 hours later -- let me guess. The victim was a few pints short when they found him." Nick nodded, his jaw tight with tension. Natalie heaved a weary sigh. "And you're blaming yourself." "I saw them together, Nat! I could have stopped it." "Oh, really? How?" she asked sharply. "I could have stepped in ... warned her away ... sent him home. Something!" "And then what? Would you have followed her around for the rest of eternity making sure she didn't go after him or anyone else? And in the meantime, how many other vampires are out there hunting and killing mortals every night? You can't stop them all, Nick. It's impossible." "I could have stopped that one," he insisted bitterly. "He's dead because of me -- because I looked the other way, when I knew what would happen." His gaze hardened, and his voice was heavy with self-loathing as he moved restlessly around the piano. "What am I doing, Nat -- carrying a badge and pretending I can be something I'm not? Fooling myself into thinking I can actually do some good here? What a joke." He continued to pace, though the angry fire had faded from his step, supplanted by an aura of weariness and defeat. "All the years we've tried. All the times I've disappointed you -- disappointed myself. We're better off admitting that we're never going to find a cure, and I'm never going to make up for the things I've done ... or failed to do." Blue eyes gazed at her sadly. "Maybe it's time for me to leave, Nat. It isn't fair, asking you to waste your life on a hopeless cause." He was slipping away; she could feel it. This had hit him hard, even more so than she might have expected, perhaps because it had come so soon after their failure with the lidovuterine. He tried to pretend that it no longer bothered him, but his hopes had risen so high and plummeted so fast, leaving him confused and easy prey to his own self-doubts. Apparently, it was worse than she'd realized. But if there was one thing Natalie Lambert had learned during her years with Nick, it was that desperate times often called for desperate measures. And, like it or not, he had reached the point where she knew of only one way to turn him around. She bit her lip, wracking her brain for another alternative, and came up empty. Reluctantly, she spoke. "All right, Nick. I didn't want to have to resort to this, but you leave me no choice." She suspected it was the familiar tone of the proclamation, rather than the words themselves, that captured his attention. He stopped pacing and looked at her warily. "Resort to what?" She folded her arms. "You know," she told him, her gaze never leaving his face. For an instant, a flicker of what could have been raw panic appeared in his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he countered stubbornly. But she also heard the faint pleading note in his voice. Natalie sighed, steeling herself for the ordeal that lay ahead. "Sorry, Detective, but it's your own fault." Then, patting the empty space beside her on the piano bench, she prompted quietly, "C'mon, Nick ... you know the drill." "But, Nat --" "Nick!" Her sharp tone made it clear she would brook no further argument from him. For a long moment, he stared earnestly into her eyes, as if hoping to find a last-minute reprieve. But she hardened her heart. She'd never promised him the path back to mortality would be an easy one. Quite the opposite. And if he insisted on falling into a deep funk every time he hit a bump or two in the road, then he had to face the consequences. "Do it, Nick." His shoulders sagged and a resigned look crossed his face. Grudgingly, he sank down next to her and, with a notable lack of enthusiasm, opened his mouth and began to sing: Next time you're found With your chin on the ground There's a lot to be learned So look around Just what makes that little ol' ant Think he'll move that rubber tree plant Anyone knows an ant can't Move a rubber tree plant But he's got hiiiigh hopes... he's got hiiiigh hopes He's got high apple pie in the skyyy hopes As Nick broke off and cast her a sideways glance, Natalie shook her head. Frowning, he continued. So any time you're getting low 'Stead of letting go, Just remember that ant. Oops, there goes another rubber tree ... Oops, there goes another rubber tree ... Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant. He eyed her again, and she shrugged. "Sorry, Nick, but I just don't feel it. Let's hear the rest." With another scowl, he dove back in ... When troubles call And your back's to the wall There's a lot to be learned, That wall could fall. ... and immediately pasted a fake smile on his face as Natalie shot him a warning look. Once there was a silly ol' ram, Thought he'd punch a hole in a dam; No one could make that ram scram, He kept buttin' that dam This time when Nick glanced at her, she nodded approvingly. With a growing light in his eyes and slightly more enthusiasm, he launched into the next verse. But he's got hiiiigh hopes... he's got hiiiigh hopes He's got high apple pie in the skyyy hopes So any time you're feeling bad 'Stead of feeling sad Just remember that ram. Oops, there goes a billion kilowatt ... Oops, there goes a billion kilowatt ... Oops, there goes a billion kilowatt dam! At that point, it was clear Natalie couldn't have stopped him with a whole squad of Enforcers to back her up. A beaming Nick was totally into it. So keep your hiiiigh hopes, keep your hiiiigh hopes. Keep your high apple pie, in the skyyy hopes. A problem's just a toy balloon They'll be bursting soon They're just bound to go POP! Oops, there goes another problem ... Oops, there goes another problem ... Oops, there goes another problem, kerplop. Kerplop! With the last "kerplop" still echoing through the loft, Nick swiveled around to face the piano, his hands seeking out the opening chords as he started the song over again. And, as much as she loved him, for perhaps the millionth time Natalie had to ask herself if keeping Nick from walking into the sun was *really* worth sitting through twenty-eight successive renditions of "High Hopes." ========== Finis My deepest, most abject apologies to all who read this. I have *no* idea where it came from. (Well, okay ... that's a lie. I really do, but I'm too mortified to admit to having such a silly side.) This is soooo far from the ending I had originally planned that they're not even in the same universe. But I was typing along and ... bam! ... right between the eyes! As Nick would say, I couldn't stop myself. If anyone cares to give me a second chance, I expect to post a somewhat different version of the story in the not-too-distant future -- one that hopefully *won't* be in the running for the Really Bad Ending Award of all time. Song credit: "High Hopes" -- words by Sammy Cahn, music by James Van Heusen, from the 1959 Frank Sinatra movie, "A Hole in the Head." No copyright infringement intended. Comments, complaints and lavish words of praise to: "Cindy Ingram" =================================================== My FK fiction page: http://people.mn.mediaone.net/nancykam/cific.html =================================================== What's another word for thesaurus? ("Say good Knight, Gracie." -- G. Burns)