I've been working on a longer story, but I'm starting to get fic-list withdrawal pains, so here's a quickie. Hope you enjoy ... This story is based on the Forever Knight television series created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen. The characters belong to TPTB at Sony and Columbia, who graciously allow us to play with them from time to time. No copyright infringement intended. Permission granted to archive on Mel's FK fanfic site and the ftp site. ========================== A Matter of Perspective By Cindy Ingram April 2000 ========================== The sun had been down for almost two hours when Nick pulled into the precinct parking lot. He was running late, thanks to some unexpected engine trouble with the Caddie, but not so late that he'd felt compelled to call in. As luck would have it, he'd broken down near a garage just as it was closing. A little "persuasion," a little extra compensation for the mechanic's time, and Nick had soon been on his way again. Now, with a rare sense of well being, he left the Caddie parked in its usual spot and headed inside to start the evening shift. As he entered the bullpen, his gaze fell on Don Schanke and a faint smile touched his lips. His partner was the very picture of intense concentration -- brow furrowed, shoulders hunched forward, completely focused on the computer monitor in front of him. Grumble though he might about filling out reports, when he actually got around to doing it, Schanke was nothing less than diligent. Nick's cherubic smile blossomed into a devilish grin as he quietly approached the desk. His plan for a sneak attack, however, was instantly forgotten when he spotted a plain white envelope propped up on his computer keyboard. Curious, he instead altered his path, scooping up the envelope as he sank into his chair. "Hey, Schank," he greeted absently, turning the envelope over in his hands. Odd ... there was no writing on it -- nothing that offered a clue as to its contents, who it might be from, or why it was on his desk. Schanke looked up from the half-completed report he'd been perusing. "Hey there, yourself! Good thing you showed up ... another ten minutes and I was going to put out an APB on you. Don't look now, but Cohen's waiting for us in her office -- something about a possible hitch in the Anjanetti case." He paused, spotting the envelope Nick was holding. "Oh, yeah. That came in a few minutes ago. Somebody dropped it off at the front desk and told 'em it was for you." Grinning, he waggled his eyebrows. "You haven't been holding out on me, have you, buddy? Like ... maybe you've got a secret admirer?" Nick snorted softly, shaking his head as he opened the letter. But when he read its contents, cold panic bloomed inside him and he forgot all about his partner's good-natured teasing. Unaware that anything was wrong, Schanke stood up and heaved a loud sigh. "Guess we'd better check in with the Captain," he said, starting toward Cohen's office. When he realized Nick wasn't following, he stopped and retraced his steps. "C'mon, partner ... chop, chop! Time's a wastin' here." Nick ignored him, and Schanke frowned. "Something important?" he asked, angling to get a glimpse of whatever had his partner so absorbed. Nick barely registered Schanke's maneuvers or his questions, so focused was he on the note and its sinister message. It was unsigned, of course, which rendered the threat all the more ominous. Though he tried to stay calm, he could feel the tension coiling ever tighter inside him. Leaning forward, Nick reached for the phone but quickly changed his mind. There was no time to waste -- he had to get to her right away. Dropping the note, he surged to his feet and raced from the bullpen, leaving a flabbergasted Schanke in his wake. "Nick! What the --?" Schanke spotted the discarded letter on the floor. Snatching it up, he started to read: You think you're so smart, but you're not as smart as I am. You took away the most precious thing in my life. Now I'm going to do the same to you. By the time you get this, it will be too late. Schanke's head snapped up, staring in consternation at the doorway where he'd last seen his partner. "Ah, geeze ... Kramer!" he bellowed, striding over to where the other detective stood. He shoved the note into his hands. "Take this to the Captain," he instructed. "Tell her it came for Nick, and let her know I'm going after him!" Racing back to his desk, Schanke grabbed his coat then glanced over at Kramer, who was still reading the note. "Now!" he barked. A grim-faced Kramer met his eyes and nodded, then headed for the captain's office as Schanke turned and charged out the door. ++++++++++ Nick stopped short in the open doorway of the morgue, his hasty progress through the hallways halted by the reassuring sight before him. There she was, safe and sound, perched on a stool as she peered through a microscope. For a moment, he felt almost giddy with relief. Then reality kicked in. Releasing a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding, Nick moved forward, snagging her coat from the rack as he strode across the room. He reached her side almost before she knew he was there and grabbed her arm to help her rise. "C'mon, Nat. Get your purse," he ordered. "I'm taking you home." As he gently propelled her toward her desk, she gaped at him in open-mouthed surprise. But they traveled only a few feet before she recovered enough to dig in her heels. "Nick! Whoa! Wait a minute!" she protested, freeing her arm from his grip. Reluctantly, Nick complied as worry and impatience vied for dominance on his face. He glanced around the room, extending his senses to cover the area beyond the morgue walls. If trouble was on its way, he would at least hear it coming. Natalie's hand on his arm drew his attention back to her face. Though she regarded him with wry amusement, he caught the barest hint of alarm in her eyes. "Don't look now, Nick, but I think your internal clock is a little screwed up. This is the *beginning* of the shift, not the end. That won't get here for another seven hours or so." She offered a teasing smile, but the look on his face must have told her it was no joking matter. She sobered instantly. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice low. "What's got you so spooked?" He glanced away, his only answer a frustrated grimace. There wasn't time to get into everything now. He needed to get her away from this place, where anyone who'd been watching would expect to find her. He could explain it all once they were safely back at the loft. But first, he had to convince Natalie to leave without an explanation. Unfortunately, if her folded arms and the determined tilt of her chin were any indication, he knew he had his work cut out for him. Nick sighed. Why did she always choose the worst times to turn stubborn? "Well?" Natalie asked, gazing at him expectantly. He grimaced again. "Nat, there isn't time. I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, but we have to leave now. Please ... trust me?" He looked at her pleadingly. For a moment, he wasn't sure she'd agree. She stared at him, her gaze searching his face, then she nodded. "I'll get my purse." She moved quickly to the other side of the desk and pulled her bag from the drawer, then straightened. "But you *will* explain this!" she added, pointing a warning finger at him. "As soon as we get to the loft," he promised. "Uh-uh." Draping the purse strap over her shoulder, Natalie shook her head. "As soon as we get in the car." The car. Nick hesitated. "Nat ... I didn't bring the Caddie. There wasn't time." Her eyes widened in surprise. She started to say something, then stopped and sighed. "Never mind. I said I'd wait and I will. We'll take my car, and you can explain it on the way to the loft." Nick shook his head. "That wouldn't be a good idea ... taking your car, I mean. We'll have to go the same way I got over here." If she'd been surprised before, it was nothing compared to the amazement that filled her eyes now. "Nick, I --" The phone rang, interrupting whatever she'd intended to say. Without breaking eye contact, she reached over and grabbed up the handset. "Nat, don't --" Nick made an aborted move to stop her, but it was too late. He waited, almost growling in frustration at yet another risky delay. "Lambert," she said into the receiver, all the while eying him as if he might suddenly sprout a second head. Almost instantly, she nodded. "Yeah, Schank, he's here. Do you want to talk to him?" A perplexed look crossed her face as she placed her hand over the mouthpiece. "Nick ... why is he laughing?" Nick ignored the question and grabbed the handset from her. "Schanke, look, I don't have time --" Schanke cut him off. "Oh, man, I had a feeling I'd find you there," he chortled. "But you gotta tell me how you made it there so fast on foot --" This time, it was Nick who interrupted. "Schank, I have to go. Something's come up and I'll explain it later, but right now I have to get Nat out of here." "You don't have to explain anything, partner. I found the note. I've got a pretty fair idea of what's going on." "Then you know I don't have time for this!" he snapped, his voice harsh with impatience. Taking a deep breath, Nick closed his eyes before continuing in a calmer voice. "Look, Schank ... I'll call you as soon as I've got her some place safe. Okay?" He could have sworn he heard Schanke choke back a laugh, then his voice came over the line again, amused and maddeningly calm. "Relax, Nick, no one's going to hurt Nat. Trust me, she's in no danger at all. And don't worry," he added in a conspiratorial whisper, "your secret's safe with me, buddy." It was fortunate for Schanke that he was somewhere else since, at that moment, Nick could have happily drained him. "Schanke ... you read the note," he growled, his jaw clenched in frustration. "You know she's the target!" "Nick, wait! Just listen to me, will ya?" Schanke paused, drawing a deep breath. "You didn't take the Caddie, did you?" Again, it sounded like his partner was struggling not to laugh, and Nick swore silently as he ground his teeth together. He knew he'd have to come up with some kind of explanation for that oversight later, but right now, it was the least of his worries. Still ... "Why would you think that?" he hedged. "Because I'm in the parking lot right now. I was trying to catch up with you, but you disappeared too fast." Abruptly, Schanke's voice sobered. "Nick," he said slowly, "you didn't even *try* to take the Caddie, did you?" Fed up with his partner's hardheadedness, Nick was about to hang up on him. But he suddenly stopped, hit by a terrible sinking feeling. "No ..." he said faintly. Whether it was an answer, a plea, or a desperate attempt at denial, he wasn't quite sure. A deep sigh reached him from the other end of the line. "Yeah, buddy," Schanke confirmed, his voice thick with both amusement and commiseration. "I hate to break it to you, Nick, but it looks like the *second* most precious thing in your life is history." ========== Finis This story was in honor of April Fool's Day ... sort of an unofficial challenge. Any other takers? 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)