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.

=====================
The Property of Hope

By Cindy Ingram
January 2000
==================================================
Things past belong to memory alone,
Things future are the property of hope.
                    -- John Home, "Agis: Lysander"
==================================================

"You've got to be kidding me!"

Schanke dropped his pen on his desk and stared at Nick in disbelief. "What
do you mean, you don't have any plans for New Year's Eve? How can you not
have plans?" Shaking his head, he glanced around the bullpen as if looking
for someone who could provide the answer before returning his gaze to his
partner.

Nick shrugged, regarding him with a bland expression. "It's not the end of
the world, Schank. I'm just not in the mood to go out and celebrate. I'd
rather stay home and enjoy a quiet evening at the loft, maybe do a little
painting. Considering all the excitement we've had around here lately, it
would make for a nice change of pace, don't you think?"

Instead of answering, Schanke snorted in disgust then straightened as a
speculative gleam appeared in his eyes. "Aaah ... I get it," he said, his
voice smug and his grin knowing. "You're going to have company, right? A
little midnight tango with the femme fatale of your choice? You sly hound
dog, you!"

Now it was Nick's turn to shake his head, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Sorry, Schank, but tomorrow night I'll be strictly solo."

"For crying out loud, Nick ... why?" Schanke asked, bewildered. He frowned,
then leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Is it because you don't have
anyone to ask? I mean, I know you're always saying you and Nat are just
friends, but what about Janette?" He grinned, waggling his eyebrows
suggestively. "You two could set off your own private fireworks, know what
I mean?"

"Schanke --"

"Or, hey ... we could find somebody else! Although," he added, a slight
trace of doubt creeping into his voice, "the pickings might be a little
slim at this late date." He shrugged. "Still, I wouldn't say it's hopeless.
You may not have noticed, partner, but women don't exactly turn and run in
the opposite direction when you're around. In fact, just say the word and I
bet Myra can have you fixed up in no time --"

A manila folder landed in the middle of Schanke's desk, interrupting the
conversation and startling both men. Surprised, they looked up to see
Natalie Lambert grinning at them.

"Watch it, Nick," she warned, her tone grave. "If you're talking about what
I *think* you're talking about, the blind date is just the beginning. The
next thing you know, Myra will be planning your wedding for you."

Schanke snorted indignantly as Nick studied her, the ghost of a smile
touching his lips. "Sounds like the voice of experience talking," he
observed.

Natalie regarded him with mock solemnity. "Let's just say it was a close
call and leave it at that, shall we?"

Schanke sighed and shook his head. "Some people just can't recognize a good
thing when they see it," he muttered under his breath.

At Nick's questioning look, Natalie mouthed "later," then perched herself
on the corner of his desk. "Sooo ... anyone planning anything special for
New Year's Eve?"

Miffed feelings forgotten, Schanke perked up. "Funny you should mention
that! I was just telling Nick that me and Myra have reservations at Azure,
that swanky new joint that just opened up. But it seems my partner here is
currently dateless."

He squinted accusingly at Nick. "You know what your problem is, buddy o'
mine? You don't get out enough. How do you expect to meet anyone when all
you ever do is work and hang out in that fortress of solitude you call
home?"

Ignoring the warning look Nick shot him, Schanke turned back to Natalie.
"He's planning to spend New Year's Eve all by his lonesome. Can you believe
it?" He shook his head in dismay, clearly at a loss. Then, switching
tracks, he leaned back to study the coroner with a curious expression on
his face. "So what about you, Nat? Doing anything special?"

"You could say that." She smiled. "I've got a date."

"Oh, reeeally!" Leaning forward again, he cut a sideways glance at Nick.
"Anyone we know?"

"Nope," Natalie replied cheerfully. "And I intend to keep it that way, at
least for now. So don't ask," she ordered, heading off his next question.

Schanke had the grace to look embarrassed. "Okay, okay! It's not like I'm a
busybody or anything," he grumbled defensively. "I just want to make sure
my two best compadres aren't going to be left high and dry on the biggest
night of the year. Although *some* people may not appreciate my good
intentions," he added, glaring pointedly across the desk at his partner.
But the not-so-subtle dig was lost on Nick, who gazed up at Natalie, a
small frown marring his face.

"Yo! Partner!" Schanke prodded.

Nick surfaced, switching his attention to the stack of papers on his desk.
"Yeah?"

"Care to share?"

Enigmatic blue eyes locked with Schanke's as Nick raised his head. "Sorry.
I was just wishing we had the final toxicology results on the Simpson case.
If it really was natural causes, it would be nice to get it wrapped up
before the New Year, so at least his family won't have that hanging over
their heads."

Natalie motioned toward the manila folder she'd tossed onto Schanke's desk.
"In that case, it's your lucky night, Knight. The report came in just as I
was booking off. The tests confirmed what we suspected ... no foul play
involved. I thought I'd drop it by on the way home so someone on the day
shift can deliver the good news ... such as it is." She sighed. "Either
way, it's not going to be a happy holiday for the family."

Schanke stared at them both. "Yeah. Right. Well ... on that change of
subject, I think I'll take my cue and leave. Gotta get home and rest up for
the big night." He stood, pulling on his overcoat. "Nat, have a happy New
Year and enjoy your date. Nick ..." Pausing, he shook his head. "You're a
mystery, buddy ... but I love ya anyway. Just promise me you'll have a good
time tomorrow night, whatever you do, okay?"

Nick nodded. "Happy New Year, Schank. Give my love to Myra and Jenny."

As Schanke fished around in his pockets looking for his keys, Natalie slid
off the desk. "I'd better head out, too. Schank's not the only one who
needs his beauty sleep."

"I'll walk you out." Nick rose and reached for his jacket.

Placing her hand on his arm, Natalie shook her head. "That's okay. You'd
better let Cohen know about the Simpson case, so she can get someone on
it." She grinned. "I'm sure your partner can see me safely to my car."

Having snagged the car keys at last, Schanke straightened, puffing out his
chest as he settled his hands on his hips. "Well, sure, little missy," he
drawled, in his best John Wayne impersonation. "I'd be right proud to see
ya out. No big bad hombre's gonna get near ya, while I'm around."

"My hero," she responded dryly, suppressed laughter sparkling in her blue
eyes. Turning back to Nick, her smile softened as she gave him a quick peck
on the cheek. "Have a good New Year, Nick," she whispered.

He stared silently back at her, then responded with a small smile of his
own. "Thanks." After a brief hesitation, he leaned down to place a soft
kiss on her forehead. "Have a good time tomorrow."

"Oh, I intend to," she assured him. Then, with a cheerful farewell wave,
she linked her arm with Schanke's and the pair headed toward the exit,
leaving Nick standing by his desk gazing after them.

++++++++++

Nick leaned against the window of his loft, looking out over darkened
streets. All was still and silent below, but off in the distance, he could
hear the mingled sounds of horns honking, fireworks exploding, and hordes
of people singing, laughing and shouting.

The New Year had arrived, accompanied by all the appropriate fanfare. But
for him, it was just another night. Or so he'd like to think.

Turning away from the window, he deliberately clamped down on his
preternatural senses, and the sounds of revelry slowly faded away. Despite
what he'd told Schanke, he hadn't really intended to spend this night
alone. He'd planned to invite Natalie over to watch videos -- a quiet
celebration to usher in the New Year together, simply and with little fuss,
just as they had in previous years. But what with one thing and another,
he'd forgotten to ask. He supposed that, on some unconscious level, he'd
taken it for granted she would be here. It hadn't occurred to him she might
have made other plans -- plans that didn't include him.

He smiled wryly. Natalie should be proud of him. She'd no doubt say he'd
behaved like a typical human male.

After he'd found out she wouldn't be joining him, he'd tried to convince
Cohen to let him work the New Year's Eve shift. Apart from enjoying the
holiday vicariously through Natalie's eyes, he took no real pleasure in it.
For him, one year blended into the next, and now each one brought him that
much closer to the time he would have to leave this place, this life he had
fashioned for himself. Not something he cared to contemplate.

Much to his surprise, however, the captain had turned down his request,
without really explaining why. She'd merely thanked him, told him he
wouldn't be needed, and wished him an enjoyable holiday. Her tone had made
it more than a suggestion.

Nick snorted softly, shaking his head as he prowled restlessly about the
loft. She had no idea what she asked of him. How could he truly enjoy it?
This was a night about hope -- about breaking with the past and turning to
the future. It was a time for new beginnings, for wiping the slate clean
and starting over again.

But he couldn't do that. No matter how many times he moved on, no matter
how many lives he tried to build for himself, he was mired in the past. The
things he carried on his slate could never be erased, regardless of how
much he might wish otherwise. For him, there was no future. There was only
then and now.

And nothing was a stronger reminder of that than New Year's Eve.

It would always be that way, he supposed, for as long as he remained a
vampire. But even if the impossible should happen, even if he should regain
his mortality, even then ...

It would be no magical solution. Most of the time, he could convince
himself the transformation would somehow bring him everything he wanted so
desperately. But on a night like this, he couldn't hide from the truth. A
return to mortality could never wash away all the evil he had done. And
yet, he couldn't help but wonder if it might be taken as a sign of God's
grace -- divine indication that he could truly find forgiveness, the first
step on a path that would lead him back to the light.

But having made so little progress toward that goal, how long could he hold
on to that scrap of hope? Even now, it was fading, slipping further and
further away from him.

He wasn't quite sure when things had started to change. For a time, as he
had renewed his search for a cure with Natalie, his hope had been
rekindled, burning brighter than ever before. Then Lacroix had returned,
rising from the ashes -- bringing with him all the old doubts and fears
Nick had managed to hold at bay. He couldn't say which had been stronger,
his relief that he had not destroyed his master, or his fear that Lacroix's
resurrection would nullify all that he had accomplished here.

He still wasn't certain which feeling had won out.

Nick glanced at the clock -- three minutes after midnight. Ordinarily, he
would have shared a New Year's toast with Natalie right about now. And even
though she wasn't here to continue their little tradition, he found himself
raising the glass of steer's blood he held, ready to offer a solitary
salutation.

But with the glass a mere hairsbreadth from his lips, he stopped, pulling
back to stare at the thick, dark liquid swirling inside. He sighed heavily,
closing his eyes for an instant, then moved toward the kitchen where he set
his glass on the counter and replaced it with one of Natalie's protein
shakes.

If he couldn't make the effort on this, of all nights, then why was he
still here? As he held the shake out in front of him, he tried to think of
an appropriate toast, but nothing came readily to mind. So, with a grimace,
he braced himself and took a big gulp.

It was even worse than he'd expected.

Rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, he fought off a wave of
nausea. Then, teeth clenched, he raised the cup again. Before he could
force himself to down any more of the vile-tasting liquid, however, his
beeper went off.

Whoever was on the other end had just earned his everlasting gratitude.

Retrieving the pager, Nick checked the number and an instant later was on
the phone to the precinct. Lapinski, a desk sergeant, picked up on the
second ring.

"Knight here ... somebody paged me?"

"Yeah, Nick. Sorry to break it to you," Lapinski said, "but Donahue went
home sick and Cohen wants you in here to sub for him."

"No problem. Tell the captain I'm on my way."

"Will do," Lapinski responded before severing the connection.

After strapping on his shoulder holster, Nick stopped at the sink long
enough to pour the remainder of the protein shake down the drain. He was
about to do the same with the glass of steer's blood but, after a slight
hesitation, threw back his head and swiftly downed it. Rinsing out the
glass, he placed it in the dish rack, grabbed his coat and jacket, and
headed for the door.

The holiday was over.

++++++++++

It was a set-up, of course. He sensed it the moment he strode into the
bullpen, but by then it was too late. Thirty-some-odd faces looked back at
him for a split-fraction of a second, then a voice yelled "Surprise!" and
the room erupted into an off-key rendition of the infamous birthday song.

At the center of all the commotion was Schanke, holding up a huge birthday
cake and grinning like the Cheshire Cat on a Las Vegas winning streak. He
was flanked on one side by a laughing Myra Schanke, and on the other by
Natalie, who seemed in danger of biting a hole through her upper lip. He
wondered if she was doing it to keep from laughing at him or because she
was nervous about his reaction.

Somehow, he doubted it was the latter.

The song ended and people began to clap and cheer, prompting Nick to take
an involuntary step backward. But any hopes he might have had for a
last-minute escape were dashed by Cohen, who appeared behind him.

"Good ... it looks like I made it back just in time," she observed blandly,
her stoic expression at odds with the amusement he saw shining in her dark
eyes. Raising a delicately arched brow, she nodded toward the crowd
gathered against the far wall. "I believe the party's that way, Detective.
After all the trouble they've gone to, you wouldn't want to keep them
waiting."

Cornered, Nick decided to make the best of it, pasting on a fake smile as
he moved to join the crowd. Though there had been times in the past when
he'd enjoyed being the center of attention, it had rarely proved the wisest
choice, especially for one of his kind. And now, in his present pensive
mood, forced merriment was the last thing he craved.

Of all the phony birth dates Larry Merlin could have given him, it was just
his luck to get saddled with this one, Nick thought sourly. But as he
circulated through the room, accepting the heartfelt best wishes of friends
and co-workers, he felt his mood lighten. Gradually, his natural good humor
reasserted itself, and by the time he had finished cutting the ceremonial
first piece of cake, then handed over his serving duties to Myra, he'd even
started to enjoy himself, albeit grudgingly.

That's when, turning, he came face-to-face with Natalie, who had, up until
that point, been hiding in the background. He stared at her in silent
reproach. She stared back with wide-eyed innocence. Finally, he broke the
impasse.

"I thought you had plans."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, and shrugged.

"Let me guess ... there was no date."

Folding her arms, she shook her head. "Nope."

"And Donahue isn't here because he suddenly made a miraculous recovery." He
glanced over at the detective in question, who was enthusiastically
devouring a large slice of birthday cake.

Another head shake. "Unh-unh."

"It was just all part of a big plot to get me here without suspecting anything."

She mulled it over for a second, then nodded. "Yep."

"Like Schanke's non-existent plans at Azure," he added.

This time, she contradicted him. "Actually ... that part was true. They
just had an early meal. I mean, c'mon, Nick! As much as Myra likes you, do
you really think she'd give up a night of dinner and dancing with her
husband for an evening with you and some spiked punch?" Breaking off, she
frowned. "Wait a minute ... that didn't come out right."

Despite his resolve to get even, Nick found himself choking back a laugh.
He couldn't help it. As much as he might want to, he couldn't stay mad at
her. Almost everything about Natalie made him want to smile -- her warmth
and vitality, her offbeat humor and cheerful irreverence, her stubborn
refusal to be intimidated. When he stared into those large, luminous,
unrepentant eyes of hers, he realized he could forgive her just about
anything -- even for cheering him up against his will.

But there was no reason she had to know that. Not yet, anyway.

He moved a step closer and frowned, his soft voice taking on an ominous
edge. "So ... do I take it you're the one I have to thank for this?"

He loved the way she stood her ground, shaking her head in emphatic denial,
eyes bright with indignation. "Oooh, no ... no, no, no. Uh-uh. I'm not
taking the wrap for this one. It was all Schanke's doing. I merely aided
and abetted a little, and that was only because he threatened to have Myra
set me up again if I didn't play along with it." She paused, shrugging
apologetically. "Sorry, Nick, but if it's a choice between staying loyal to
you and going through *that* again ... well ... you're on your own, bucko."

Abandoning any pretense of anger, he studied her with a sympathetic smile.
"That bad, eh?"

An exaggerated shudder ran through her. "You have *no* idea." She returned
his smile with one of her own.

They shared a moment of silent commiseration before he cocked his head and
frowned, his expression turning thoughtful.

"What?" Natalie asked, looking at him curiously.

"Nothing really," he mused. "I just somehow got the idea Myra was pretty
good at matchmaking. *Lionel* certainly didn't seem that bad."

Natalie stared at him, confused. "Who?"

"Lionel. You know ... the guy she tried to set you up with last year," he
prompted. "What was he ... Myra's friend's cousin, or something like that?"

Natalie looked at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. "How do *you* know
what Lionel was like? I never went out with him."

Fighting to keep the smirk off his face, Nick shrugged. "Oh, I met him when
he dropped by the station house over at the 27th looking for you. It was
right after you hot-footed it out of there to keep from running into him.
Like I said, he seemed pretty nice."

Natalie's eyes narrowed. "Nice? How nice?"

"What do you mean?"

"You *know* what I mean," she shot back, clearly not buying his innocent
routine. "Exactly how ... 'nice' ... was Lionel, Nick?"

Gazing at the ceiling, he pretended to give the question careful thought,
then shrugged. "Well ... you probably wouldn't have been in as big a hurry
to get away if you'd seen him first," he allowed.

She hauled back and punched him on the arm. Hard. "And you never *told* me
this?!" she hissed.

Rubbing his abused extremity, Nick merely grinned at her. Revenge could be
sooo sweet, at times, he thought, and this was certainly one of them.
Though Natalie didn't seem to agree.

"Yo, Nick!"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Schanke motioning to him. His partner,
standing next to a gift-laden desk, raised his voice so he could be heard
over the loud buzz of conversation in the room. "Quit fighting with Nat,
and come on over here!" he ordered. "It's time for the birthday boy to open
his presents!"

Nick rose and led Natalie over to the desk, ignoring the warning bells set
off by the wicked light in Schanke's eyes and the gleeful way he was rubbing
his hands together. Once there, he dutifully opened each box in turn as it
was thrust at him.

Not surprisingly, there was the usual assortment of gag gifts, including a
pinup calendar, a set of rubber handcuffs, and Schanke's offering -- a
somewhat risque jigsaw puzzle for, as his partner explained with a comical
leer, "those looong days in the loft." At one point, Natalie retrieved a
shopping bag from beneath the desk and pulled out her own contribution, a
large package that contained a picture book on ancient ruins.

There was even a gift from his former captain, Joe Stonetree, who hadn't
been able to make it to the party. The collection of native drawings he'd
sent drew quite a few admiring comments, especially from those who knew of
Nick's more-than-casual interest in art.

But the biggest stir, by far, was caused by the arrival of an unexpected
guest. Even without the familiar buzz, Nick would have known something was
up. The sudden drop in the room's noise level, offset by a noticeable rise
in both respiration and body temperature among the bullpen's male
occupants, was all it took to confirm his worst fears.

With a sinking feeling, he turned and spotted her -- Janette, stunning as
always. She was standing in the doorway of the bullpen with a gift-wrapped
package in her hands. Their gazes met and locked, and the teasing smile
that flitted around her lips told him she knew very well he was less than
pleased to see her there.

Ignoring the mortals in the room, she started toward him with a sensual
grace that demanded the attention of all present, her eyes never leaving
his face. She was flawless perfection -- raven hair piled high, laying bare
the smooth ivory column of her neck, and the knee-length black satin sheath
she wore caressed her curves with every step she took. Away from the Raven,
in the ordinary environs of the precinct, the preternatural aura that set
their kind apart seemed all the more apparent.

As she neared, the crowd gave way, parting to form a path that led directly
to him.

She halted mere inches away, and the hint of mischief dancing in her eyes
brought a wary frown to his face. "Janette," he greeted her, his voice
pitched low enough so that only those directly around them could hear.
"What are you doing here?" Though he tried to hide his irritation, he was
only marginally successful. He wondered what on earth had possessed her to
seek him out at the precinct.

She ignored his brusque tone and smiled, blood-red lips parting to reveal
perfect white teeth. "I've come to wish you a happy birthday, of course,"
she replied sweetly. "Detective Schanke was kind enough to stop by the
Raven last night and invite me to your little party."

Nick turned a stony glare on the balding detective. He was only slightly
mollified to see his partner already squirming under the combined heat of
Janette's coy smile, Myra's pointed stare, and Natalie's accusing gaze.

Schanke cleared his throat nervously, spreading his hands wide. "Well ...
yeah ... I mean ... they're old friends, and all," he explained weakly. "I
figured she might want to come and help us celebrate, you know?"

"And you were absolutely correct, Detective," Janette hastened to assure
him. "I would not have missed Nicolas' birthday party for the world. After
all, it's only once in a lifetime that a man turns ..." Pausing, she
frowned thoughtfully, tapping one elegantly manicured nail against pursed
lips as she tilted her head. "Exactly *how* old are you now ... *Nick*?"

He wasn't sure which was worse, the marked emphasis she placed on the
shortened version of his name, or the wicked grin that accompanied it. His
eyes narrowed as he opened his mouth to speak. Whatever response he might
have made, however, was silenced by Natalie.

"That's quite an impressive package you've got there, Janette," she
commented dryly. "Wrap it yourself, did you?"

Nick sighed, cringing inwardly. If Natalie's intent had been to divert
attention away from the emotional undercurrents swirling about the room,
she could have chosen a better way to do it. He braced himself for the
inevitable backlash.

Janette glanced down at the box, as if only then remembering its existence,
and moved her shoulders in an elegant shrug. "Why no ... Natalie, isn't it?
I'm afraid I have neither the patience nor the talent for anything so
mundane. I much prefer leaving such things to those who do." Her pointed
smile made it all too clear which category the coroner fell into. Without
missing a beat, she turned and handed Nick the package. "I understand it is
traditional to bring a gift, is it not? I trust you will like it ...
*Nick*."

Hesitating, he stared at her suspiciously, but her expression told him
nothing. Nick realized that unless he wanted to supply even more grist for
the gossip mill, he had little choice but to play along. Accepting the
present without comment, he tore off the paper and opened the box, holding
his breath, dreading what he might find inside.

A brilliant splash of red greeted his eyes, and he knew he'd been right to
worry. Before he could replace the lid, Janette's hand snaked inside and
pulled forth the red satin robe. Shaking it out, she held it against
herself for all to see.

Nick stood quietly, grinding his teeth together. A slight tic in his jaw
was the only clue to his mental state.

Janette, of course, could tell exactly what he was thinking, but that
didn't deter her. Slowly stroking the fabric with one hand, she stared into
his eyes. "I saw it and just knew it would be perfect for you, Nicolas. I
remember how attached you get to things, but you've had the old one for so
long now. It's time for a change, don't you think?" Dropping the robe on
the desk, she moved closer. Her breath caressed his cheek as her voice
dropped to a seductive whisper that still carried to those nearest them.
"And perhaps, mon cher, if you're *very* good, I will even let you model it
for me."

With that, she captured his lips in a kiss that was anything but chaste.
And for an instant, as he felt her soft body press against his and her arms
encircle his neck, Nick responded without thinking, giving in to an old
hunger long denied. But loud clapping and a chorus of appreciative whistles
brought him to his senses, reminding him of where they were and who was
watching.

Pulling back, he gently but deliberately removed her arms from around his
neck and tried to steady himself. The kiss had gotten to him, evoking the
kind of dark sexual thrill that only another vampire could arouse. He knew
it, and she knew it, but he was determined no one else would. Painfully
conscious of their fascinated audience, Nick opted for an air of polite
reserve.

"Thank you, Janette," he said, carefully ignoring both her provocative
comment and her smug expression. "I'm not sure red is really my color ...
but it was very thoughtful of you."

Though far too late for damage control, he could at least avoid adding fuel
to the fire. That didn't stop him, however, from sending a silent promise
to exact his own form of revenge for her little prank. And though her
sultry smile acknowledged the fact, it rankled considerably that she seemed
not the least bit worried by the prospect.

As Janette stepped back, she reached up with one finger to wipe away a tiny
smudge of lipstick from the edge of his mouth. Nick resisted the urge to
capture her wrist in his hand, knowing that whatever response he made to
the intimate gesture was bound to be misinterpreted by anyone watching.
Instead, he pretended not to notice, sliding clenched fists into his
pockets as he averted his gaze.

His eyes fell on Schanke, who didn't even try to hide his smirk, then
traveled on to Natalie, who was doing her best to appear oblivious to the
speculative glances cast her way. She didn't look at him either, though his
gaze lingered on her face. In fact, it seemed she purposely avoided doing
so.

Nick wondered if she knew, if she could see past his well-practiced facade
to the inner turmoil he'd been trying so hard to repress. In his long life
as a vampire, there had been few, if any, mortals who had known and
understood him as well as Natalie did. Perhaps, in that brief, unguarded
moment with Janette, she had seen his doubts and discouragement, had
glimpsed the dark urges that lurked beneath the shaky semblance of
mortality he maintained.

Perhaps she had seen and wouldn't look at him for fear he would read the
disappointment in her eyes.

He cursed himself for a fool. For a few moments there, he had actually
allowed himself to forget who and what he was, to enjoy the fantasy of
being Nick Knight, a slightly eccentric but perfectly human male. Then
Janette had arrived with the sole purpose of reminding him it was nothing
more than a charade -- a passing moment in an all-too-transitory life.

Janette.

Suddenly realizing she was no longer beside him, Nick turned his head only
to spot her halfway across the room, heading toward the exit. She paused at
the door for an instant, her saucy farewell smile a counterpoint to his own
troubled state, then vanished into the hallway.

There was no need for her to stay, he thought bitterly. She'd made her
point. Was he really kidding anyone but himself?

Nick wasn't sure how long he stood there before Schanke's voice filtered
through the mental haze surrounding him. Glancing around, he discovered
that his partner had begun regaling their co-workers with a colorful
account of an arrest he and Nick had made over at the old precinct.

"And then he thought he could bluff his way out by holding a gun to Nick's
head, but we showed him he couldn't mess around with Metro's finest and get
away with it. No, siree! What he didn't realize was that me and Nick had
been counting the shots, and we knew he hadn't had time to reload, so Nick
pretended to let Santini get the drop on him, while I circled around ..."

Snorting softly, Nick shook his head. Judging by the way his partner
studiously avoided looking at Myra, he'd wager this sudden trip down memory
lane was more of a desperate ploy to stop her from grilling him about
Janette than it was Schanke's usual bid for attention. But if the
determined look on Myra's face was any indication, he had only delayed the
inevitable.

A soft touch on his sleeve drew Nick's attention. Glancing down, he was
surprised to see Natalie standing next to him, her hand on his arm. He must
have been badly distracted not to have sensed her approach. He started to
speak, but she shook her head and motioned toward a deserted corner of the
bullpen. Nodding, he followed her across the room where they could talk
without fear of being overheard.

Once there, he waited for Natalie to break the silence, expecting a lecture
or, at the very least, a few uncomfortable questions. Instead, she reached
into the shopping bag she still held and pulled out another gift-wrapped
box. This one was much smaller than the first she'd given him.

"This is your present ... your *real* present," she said, offering him the
package without quite meeting his eyes. "The book was sort of a ... well, a
decoy gift ... you  might say. A little more suitable for public
consumption, if you get my drift."

Surprised, he accepted the present. "Nat ... you didn't have to --"

"Yeah, yeah ... I know," she interrupted, waving her hand but still
avoiding his gaze. "Just go ahead and open it already."

With growing amusement, Nick did as she instructed, quickly stripping the
wrapping paper from the box. He paused, regarding her with a lopsided
smile. "It's not a protein shake, is it?" he teased, his smile turning to a
grin as she snorted and rolled her eyes. But when he finally looked inside,
what he saw sobered him instantly.

Nestled in the tiny box was a sterling silver medallion attached to a
matching chain. Carved on its face was a scene straight out of his dreams
-- a bird in flight superimposed against the backdrop of a brilliant
sunrise. Strategic parts of the engraved image were brushed with faint
tinges of color, creating a warm sense of vibrancy out of cold metal.

The craftsmanship was superb.

"There's ... um ... there's an inscription on the back," Natalie offered.

Slowly, he lifted it from the box and turned it over, studying the engraved
verse.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul.
                        Emily Dickinson

He repeated the words out loud, softly and with feeling. When he looked up,
her blue eyes gazed steadily into his. They were silent for a moment, then
she laughed self-consciously.

"I debated on whether or not to get it for you," she admitted. "I wasn't
sure how you'd feel about it." She hesitated, her expression turning
solemn. "I know it's been a rough time for us lately, especially with all
the dead ends ..."

Her voice trailed off awkwardly, but she took a deep breath and began again.

"Look, Nick, I know you think I don't always appreciate how hard it is for
you, that I can't imagine how much of a struggle it really is." She
shrugged. "Maybe you're right. I can't know what you're going through, but
I have seen how hard you try. Most of the time, anyway," she amended, with
a faint smile. "And I think I understand, at least to some extent, how much
this all means to you."

Moving a step closer, she placed her hand on his arm. "I want you to know
you're not alone. I'm right here with you, Nick ... and I will be, for as
long as you want. I know there's an answer, and I really believe we can
find it. We just can't give up."

Her fingers left his arm to brush across the face of the medallion. "That's
why I wanted you to have this ... to remind you that, even when things are
at their bleakest, you should never lose hope. In the end, that's what it
all comes down to, isn't it? And that's what's going to bring you back
across -- if not here and now, then in another place at another time. But
it *will* happen, Nick, as long as you find a way to keep that hope alive."

For several long moments he gazed down at the medallion, tracing the
engraved image with the tip of one finger. The hope she spoke of, the sense
of optimism that had seemed so tenuous and out of reach such a short time
ago, was suddenly right there in front of him. It was also inside him,
growing and expanding, transforming itself into a gentle tide that swept
through him, washing away many of the doubts that had plagued him over the
last few weeks.

He was silent for so long that Natalie must have decided he didn't like it.
She cleared her throat, staring down at the floor as she let out another
embarrassed laugh. "On the other hand, maybe I should have followed my
first instinct and opted for a blender. At least that's something you could
get some practical use out of. I suppose it's pretty stupid to think --"
She broke off as his hand covered hers.

"It's perfect," he said quietly. She raised her head, and their gazes
locked. "Perfect," he repeated, his voice dropping to a barely audible
whisper.

Natalie remained still for several seconds before finally releasing a
pent-up breath in a noisy rush of air. "Well ... all right, then." She
smiled faintly, her eyes still locked with his. "As long as you like it."

"I do."

"I'm glad."

They continued to stare at each other until the silence grew awkward and
Natalie glanced away, clearing her throat as she broke eye contact. "Well,
looks like the party's starting to wind down," she observed, surveying the
dwindling crowd around Schanke, who had moved on to yet another tale of
derring-do. She looked back at Nick. "How about it? Think we should go
rescue them?"

Nick grinned. "It's probably the kindest thing we could do."

"Our first good deed of the year," she agreed with a smirk.

Nick followed Natalie back over to the group and stopped beside Schanke,
who seemed oblivious to his shrinking audience. Clapping a hand to his
partner's shoulder, he flashed him a wide grin. "Sorry to interrupt,
Schank, but Natalie tells me you're the one I have to thank for this little
get-together tonight."

Schanke froze, mouth open, then shot Natalie a disgruntled look. "Traitor,"
he muttered accusingly.

She lifted her hands in mock helplessness. "Sorry, Schank, but he pried it
out of me. You know how good he is at interrogating people. I never had a
chance." She turned to the woman beside him. "Myra, while I'm thinking
about it, didn't you say the baby-sitter had to be home by three o'clock?"
She punctuated the question with a meaningful look before adding, "I just
ask because it's almost that now."

To Myra's credit, she didn't miss a beat. "You're right," she said,
glancing at her watch. "I had no idea it was getting so late. C'mon, dear,
we'd better hustle." Turning to Schanke, she took her husband's arm and
gently steered him toward the door. "Say, good night to everybody,
sweetheart."

"But Myra, honey," he protested, looking down at her with a puzzled
expression, "I thought you said Betsy was staying the night."

"Did I?" she asked innocently, still heading for the door with husband in
tow. "I must have gotten confused. Oh, well. I'm sure we can straighten it
all out as soon as we get home. In fact --" Halting abruptly, she smiled
sweetly and leaned close to whisper something in his ear.

Schanke stared at her an instant, mouth agape, then his face lit up with a
lascivious grin. Looking back over his shoulder, he shrugged apologetically
as he called out to Nick. "Sorry to skip out on your party, partner, but
duty calls. Just don't forget to save me some more of that birthday cake,
okay?"

"Sure, Schank," Nick promised, waving him on. "I'll wrap it up and leave it
on your desk."

Satisfied, Schanke nodded, then placed his arm around Myra's shoulders and
hurried her out the door. Nick and Natalie looked at each other, chuckling
softly at the collective sigh of relief that filled the room.

Cohen, who had also watched the departure, approached the pair, nodding
gravely. "Nicely done, Detective ... Doctor," she remarked, amusement
lighting her eyes. "Keep up the good work." She started to move away but
suddenly halted, looking back at Nick.

"Oh, and Knight ... have a happy birthday," she instructed, a smile warming
her face. "I'd say you've earned it." With a final nod, she headed for her
office and disappeared inside.

Nick accepted a few more well wishes from his colleagues as Natalie donned
her coat and gathered her things. When he caught up with her again, she
smiled. "Well, I'd better be off. I've got a hungry cat waiting for me."
Her head tilted as she gazed at him thoughtfully. "Cohen's right, you know.
You *have* earned it. Try to remember that." She nodded toward the table.
"And don't forget the birthday cake, either, or Schanke will never forgive
you."

As Nick glanced over at the cake, his hand found its way into the jacket
pocket where he'd placed the medallion. He closed his fingers around the
cool metal disk, then turned back to Natalie, only to discover she'd made
it halfway across the room.

"Nat!" When he called out, her head was not the only one that turned his
way, but for once, Nick didn't care. "Could I drive you home?" he asked,
his voice carrying across the bullpen.

He saw her fighting the urge to look around, equally conscious that
everyone was listening. "Thanks, Nick, but that isn't necessary. My car's
outside." She started to turn away.

"I'd really feel better if you'd let me drive you," he insisted, without
moving. "The roads won't be safe at this hour ... drunk drivers and all. I
can take you home, then give you a ride in tomorrow night."

They stared at each other, and he knew what those listening would think. He
could tell that she did, too, but at the moment, neither one of them seemed
to care.

Finally, she shrugged. "If you insist." Her eyes reflected the brightness
of her smile as she waited for him to join her. Neither did she protest
when he stopped her at the door to arrange her scarf more carefully around
her neck and shoulders.

"It's freezing out there," he told her, his tone gently scolding. "We can't
have you getting sick on us."

Still conscious of watching eyes and listening ears, she swatted him
lightly on the arm. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Have you
always been such a mother hen, or are you getting senile in your old age?"
she joked.

He grinned at her without answering, then ushered her into the hallway and
down the corridor to the back entrance of the precinct. They paused on the
landing outside, taking a moment to enjoy the brisk winter air and the
clear skies overhead. Despite the bright lights of the city, a few faint
stars were visible. Finally, it was Natalie who broke the silence.

"Nick."

"Hmm?" he responded, staring up at the sky.

"You forgot Schanke's cake," she pointed out. "He's not going to be very
happy with you."

Nick shrugged, reaching into his pocket again to find the medallion nestled
there. "So I did," he agreed softly. "But I guess some things are just more
important than others. Like making sure a certain doctor gets home in one
piece."

Natalie grinned as she started down the steps to the parking lot. "My
hero," she drawled teasingly, echoing the words she'd said to Schanke the
previous night. But when she turned to look at him, her eyes were serious,
contradicting the amusement in her voice.

As he followed her down the steps, Nick felt his smile widen and an
unaccustomed warmth spread through him.

For in that moment, at least, he knew he really was.

=======
Finis


Comments, complaints and lavish words of praise to:
"Cindy Ingram" <cgi271@airmail.net>
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My FK fiction page:
http://people.mn.mediaone.net/nancykam/cific.html
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("Say good Knight, Gracie." -- G. Burns)