Forever Not: Deja Who? by Sharon S. Scott ********************************** Cast of Characters: Darras Wright--Homicide detective and vampire Nanette--Club owner and vampire Le Carre--Psychotic and vampire Matilda Lombard--Coroner and mortal Shukovsky--Homicide detective and mortal Dolores-Nanette"s assistant, vampire, and dingbat Michel--Bartender ********************************** Scene: The Crow The club was crowded, smoky, and very noisy. With a nod to the bartender, putting him in charge in her absence, Nanette retreated to the relative quietness of her office. The television set was on--she'd have to remind Dolores that her office was off-limits. Why anyone would watch soap operas ... Turning the sound down on the tv, she seated herself at her desk and flipped through the pile of papers awaiting her scrutiny. They could wait, all of them. She'd think about them tomorrow. She lit a cigarette and stared at the tv, not really seeing what appeared on the screen. She was thinking of him again. And as if her thoughts had called out to him, he appeared in the doorway of the office. "What are you doing here? Bored with being a policeman? Or is it that you need something, again?" "Two strikes, Nanette." She glared at him. What gibberish was this? Couldn't he ever just explain himself clearly and succinctly? "Strikes?" "Pardon me. Baseball terminology. What I meant was that neither supposition was correct." "I do wish you'd learn to say what you mean." She grabbed the remote control off the desk and began switching channels on the tv. "What do you want?" "You called and left a message on my machine, remember? You had an address and phone number for me?" "Ah, yes. The phone number and address of a very good tailor." She looked him over, head to toe, and did nothing to mask her displeasure at his clothing. "You're in dire need of a good tailor. The things you wear ... " "What's wrong with what I have on?" "Everything. Worn jeans, running shoes, a t-shirt, and that jacket ... " She shuddered in distaste. "You can afford to dress with some semblance of style. Why do you appear in such things?" "They're comfortable. And they're what everyone else wears. I fit in--I don't stand out in a crowd." She strode across the room, opened the door, and nodded at the patrons of the club. "You stand out in *this* crowd. You look like one of those teenagers who inhabit shopping malls." She shuddered again. "And bullet holes. Really! A leather jacket with bullet holes. What an affectation." He sighed. She would never understand wearing clothes for comfort rather than fashion. And he had to admit he had no good reason for wearing the jacket, other than sentiment. He'd also have to admit that he didn't care about what he wore. But she did--it was important to her, for some reason. He tried to imagine her in jeans. He really tried. And discovered it was impossible. Velvet, lace, silk, black slink, but never jeans. "Okay, I give up. Give me the address and phone number. I'll try to arrange something." She closed the door and walked across the room to sit at her desk again. "You'll do better than try. You *will* arrange something. Promise?" "I promise." He knew she wouldn't give up--she'd annoy him about it until he did what she wanted. After all these years, he knew her too well. Which is why, when she let out a yelp, he was alarmed. It wasn't the sort of sound she normally made. "What was that for?" She was standing perfectly still, staring at the television set. "Look. It's ... you!" He turned to look at the tv screen. It was a shot of Toronto at sunset, the CN Tower rising like a giant's appendage, pointing at the sky. A police show, with a blonde homicide detective leaning over a body sprawled on the street. "It's just a police show. Big deal." But then the detective turned the body over, and at the sight of the pool of blood underneath it, his eyes turned gold and he started to snarl. A vampire. Oh, great. "It's you! It is! Look--the man with dark hair and sideburns and a terrible tie--it's Shukovsky. And the woman coroner--Matilda Lombard." "Well, there's some resemblance, but .. " "Look again. The policemen are getting into a Cadillac, a 1963 model, if I'm not mistaken. Do you still think it's *just* a police show?" "It's a coincidence." "Coincidence? You call this a coincidence? Look!" Now the scene had changed to the interior of a club that looked a great deal like the Crow. And a slim, dark-haired woman with a French accent stood at the bar, smoking and watching the crowd. The beautiful dark-haired woman was a vampire also. And there was a wonderfully handsome silver-haired man who seemed to have a hold over the handsome detective and the beautiful owner of the bar. He seemed to be a vampire also. The beautiful coroner just happened to be looking for a cure for vampirism, since the handsome detective seemed to want to become mortal again. And the beautiful coroner just happened to be in love with the handsome detective. Suddenly the coincidences seemed to be too ... coincidental. "That's *you*, Nanette!" "At least they had the good taste to have me wearing designer clothing." "You have clothes on the brain. We're in big trouble here." Suddenly she began to laugh. "Look at who is playing you-- somebody Davies--I thought he only did theater." "You *know* him?" "Well, I don't know him personally, but I know who he is. I've seen him at Stratford." "You've been to the Stratford Festival?" "Do you think I am without culture? He's a good actor. A bit too cherubic to be playing you, but ... that's who it is." "Oh come on, you don't think he looks like me, do you?" "Yes. Definitely. The blonde hair, the blue eyes, that smile ... yes, Darrah, he's very like you." "I don't see the faintest resemblance, other than coloring ... " They sat on the sofa and watched the rest of the show in disbelief. "It's us." He shook his head slowly from side to side. "Yes. It *is* us. They've made us into television characters." "Do you realize what this means? Someone knows who we are, what we do, and where we live. And enough about us to find actors who look like us. Realization slowly dawned. "You know who it has to be. Only one person knows that much about us. It has to be ... " She stood and walked slowly over to the television and turned it off. "No, I refuse to believe it. C'est impossible." Rising from the couch, he took her by the shoulders, and stared into her eyes. "I know it *seems* impossible. But who else could it be? It has to be Le Carre. He's taunting us. The bastard." He let go of her, and began pacing back and forth in the small office. "What are we going to do? They'll find us! We're all in danger!" "Calm down, Nanette. We'll figure out something." "What? Make them forget? We can't make a whole city forget!" "Of course not. Maybe it's not as bad as we think. It's 3 a.m.--surely most of Toronto is asleep, and didn't even see it. " "The eternal optimist. Of course people saw it. Insomniacs, people who work during the day, people who know how to program their vcrs to tape such things in the middle of the night, mothers rocking their cranky babies, night people. We *are* in danger." "The tv station. I know Toni Toller. Maybe she can tell us something about who did the show. Who paid for it." "Do it, Darrah. Now." ********************************************** Scene: The TV Station "Get away from me, Darras Wright! You're not going to mess with my mind again." "Toni, calm down. I just want to know about a show that was broadcast tonight. The one about a cop who's a vampire?" "Forever Knight?" "That sounds like the one. Who's the producer?" If it was Le Carre, they might as well give up now and flee to Outer Mongolia. "James Parriott. Why do you want to know?" "How long has it been on?" "This is the second year. What's the big deal?" "Oh, nothing. I'm just curious. Where can I get copies of all the episodes?" "Not from me. I don't have all of them on tape. I guess you could contact Tri-Star or Paragon, or even Columbia, but your best bet would be to post a request on Forkni-l." Now he was really confused. "Forkni-l? What's that?" "It's the fan group, on the Internet. Where have you been?" "Somewhere else, apparently. A fan group? Is this show really popular?" "Gaining viewers by leaps and bounds. If you're interested, there are actually a couple of lists, and a usenet group, and some great fanfic out there." Damn. Well, there went his theory of no one watching the thing. "Is it always on at 3 a.m.?" "Hey, this is Canada. It's never on at the same time twice. Or the same night. And they pre-empt it at the drop of a hat." Maybe there was some hope after all. ********************************** Scene: The Squad Room, 54 Division The woman he'd talked to at the Tri-Star office had been very helpful when he'd asked for copies of the episodes. He'd identified himself as a member of the Metro Police and said he needed the tapes to help in an investigation. She seemed puzzled, but she'd passed his request on, and the tapes were on their way to his place via courier. In the meanwhile, he decided to canvass the squad room and find out if anyone there had even seen the show. He wasn't pleased with the results. Almost all the cops had seen the show at least once. Luckily none of them seemed very impressed with it. It was tv, after all, and nothing like the real life of a cop. And even more providentially, none of them professed to believe in the existence of vampires. Except Shukovsky. He should have known. "Yeah, sure, there are vampires." This said with a perfectly straight face. "Why ya wanna know?" "Mat and I were watching a vampire movie the other night, and we were just wondering whether anybody really believes in them." "You *don't* believe in them?" "I'm more interested in why *you* believe in them. Tell me." "Lemme get a doughnut first. Okay, Why I Believe In Vampires. I saw a show on tv the other night that said there really are people who drink blood. They have some kinda disease--por ... por ... somethin' or other. I mean, they don't suck the red stuff from people's necks or anything like that. That's just a legend. Oh, yeah, and they look kinda like they have fangs because their gums recede. These guys never heard of dental hygiene. What else you wanna know?" Whew. "That's plenty, Shuko. Let's get to work on the Miller case. Captain said the powers that be want results pronto." "Yeah, yeah, they always want results pronto. So what else is new?" "Nothing, Shuko. Nothing." ********************************** Scene: The Morgue Mat was bent over a body, delicately scraping at it with a scalpel. "Be with you in a minute. Just one more sample ... " Darras took a seat and waited for her to finish. "All done. Let me cover this guy up, and then we'll get to *your* problem." "How do you know I have a problem? Maybe I just wanted to say hello." She stripped off her gloves and mask and threw them in the bin. "You *always* have some sort of problem, don't you?" "Not always." "Name once." He couldn't. "Hah, gotcha! So what is it this time?" "Forever Knight. Nick Knight. Natalie Lambert. Janette. Schanke. LaCroix." "What are you talking about?" "A television show that just happens to be about a vampire homicide detective who has a burning desire to cross back over, and a coroner who wants to help, and a female vampire who owns a club, and ... " "I still don't get it." "You will, once you've seen it. Nick Knight equals Darras Wright, Nanette is Janette, Shukovsky is Schanke, and, best of all ... Natalie Lambert is ... guess who? Yeah, you've got it--Matilda Lombard. She even has a cat, although it's named Sidney instead of Cedric." "A tv show? What the ... ?" "Yeah, that's what I said. It exists. I saw it last night. " "But how ... who ... ?" "You know almost as much as I do about it at this point, but I intend to find out a great deal more before I'm done. Come on over to my place when you get off, and we'll watch all of it and see what we can come up with." "On my way. This I've got to see." ********************************** Scene: Darras' Place After viewing all the tapes, Darras was even more appalled. Whoever had done this had got it mostly right. The Crusades instead of the Round Table, but some of the flashbacks followed the story of his past almost verbatim. Mat was in shock. "You actually did all this stuff? The ballerina? Alexandra? Elizabeth? Erica? Vietnam? Slaves?" She grabbed his arm. "Answer me! Did you actually do all of this?" "Well, they've changed the names, and souped it up a bit for tv, but basically, yes." "My God. And this is what you're remembering when you go into one of your trances?" "I didn't realize I was that obvious." "Oh, Darras, use your brain. Of course it's obvious. How could it not be? You're in mid-word, and you look off into the distance, like you're far, far away. Now that I know where your mind is, it's even scarier." "I've told you some of it before. This just fills in some of the gaps." "With a vengeance." She looked at him as if he were a total stranger. "What? Did you think I'd been a happy little vampire, doing good for 800 years?" "I didn't think it had been quite that dreadful for you. Or that you had ... " "Killed is the word, Mat. Or that I had killed so many mortals. That's what you were going to say." "So who knows this much about you? Other than Nanette?" "Le Carre. It has to Le Carre. What I can't figure out is *why* he's done this. He knows this ... exposure won't make me go back to him. He's more intelligent than that." "Maybe to embarrass you enough to make you leave?" "But that wouldn't accomplish anything. If I leave TO, it won't change my mind about him, or about coming back across. He knows that. It can't be that simple." Suddenly he jumped up and headed for the door. "Where are you going?" "To the radio station. To ask him. Lock up when you leave, okay?" After Darras' abrupt departure, Mat rewound the tapes and watched them again. And again. It might only be tv, but it told her more about him than *he'd* ever told her. And she wanted to know. All of it. ********************************** Scene: The Radio Station "Ah, night creatures, here's my old friend Darras. He looks troubled. As usual. Come in, friend. Sit and tell me about me about your problems. Maybe our listeners can help." Darras reached over and punched the button that shut off the mike. Le Carre smiled and sat back in his chair. "My, my. You *are* troubled. What is it?" "Why did you do it? Why?" "Do what?" "The tv show." "I'm afraid I'm in the dark, so to speak, about tv. I have more interesting things to do with my time." "I won't ask what those things are, other than annoying me. Do you mean you truly don't know about the show?" "I haven't a clue about any tv show." "Swear it." "Well, we don't have a Bible handy, but that wouldn't be quite the thing for either of us anyway, would it?" Darras was not amused. "Very well, I swear it. Now tell me what you're talking about." "Forever Knight. A show about a vampire cop, his "master", a club owner, and a coroner. Sound at all familiar?" "This is a joke, correct? I told you, I know nothing about television, or about this show. But now you've intrigued me. Where and when may I view it?" "My place. Now. And you'd better call Nanette." ********************************** Scene: Darras' Place When he and Le Carre arrived, Mat and Nanette were rewinding the tape s. He introduced Mat to Le Carre, hoping she wouldn't remember the last time they'd met. That had been a close one, and he didn't know how long the hypnotism would cover those memories. Le Carre kissed her hand, looked deeply into her eyes, and murmured, "How nice to see you again, Ms. Lombard." Mat looked confused. "Pardon me, but I don't think we've met. I've heard about you, of course." "Only nice things, I hope." He dropped her hand and took a seat on the couch. "You wish," she said under her breath. "Darras, why did you bring him here?" "Because he swears he doesn't know anything about this show. And we have to find out who's responsible. We're *all* in danger." Le Carre was impatient. "I need to get back to the station soon. Could we get this over with?" He obviously didn't believe there was a problem. Darras found the remote and started the first tape. By the second tape, Le Carre was looking angry. By the third tape, he was livid. And by the fourth, he looked ready to rip someone's throat out. Le Carre leaped to his feet. "THEY'VE MADE ME LOOK LIKE A PATHETIC PSYCHOPATH! HOW DARE THEY! And with a snarl, Le Carre flew up through the skylight. The other three covered their heads as glass rained down on them. "Damn him! Are you okay, Mat?" She stopped shaking glass out of her hair long enough to nod. "Nanette?" "Yes, of course, Darrah. I'm fine." She looked up at the broken skylight ght and shivered. "I've never seen him so angry, not in a thousand years." "It hurts to be shown your faults. Especially when they're being broadcast in at least two countries." Mat and Nanette looked at him in consternation "I found out the show is quite popular in the States--there's a large fan club, and lists on the Net. The only thing that'll save our butts is that no one in the fan groups seems to know that the show's based on real people." Mat couldn't resist. "Well, on real ... beings, anyway." "Don't be picky. What are we going to do?" Nanette headed for the door. "I'm going back to the club. I can't leave Vlad in charge indefinitely, and Dolores has to be watched ... " "You don't think Dolores ... " "Darrah, she's on a different plane from the rest of us, but she's not smart enough to have pulled this off. A bientot, cheri. Good-bye, Dr. Lombard." And she was gone with a whisper of velvet. "Now what?" "You should go home and get some rest." "I'm a big girl--I can stay up late if I want." "I know, I know, but there isn't anything else we can do tonight. The sun's coming up. Tomorrow night I'll get in touch with my sources, and see if I can find out anything." He kissed her on the cheek and saw her to her car, then came back in and headed for the refrigerator. The two six-packs of blood in beer bottles would be just about enough to satisfy his hunger. He scarfed them down while watching the tapes one more time, then shut the tv off and headed upstairs for bed. He was asleep, dreaming about being in the shower with Victoria Principal when he was awakened by a noise in the room next door. He quietly got out of bed, put on a robe, and tiptoed to the door of his study. It sounded like one person, moving stealthily, but he could hear the heartbeat and the rustling of papers. He reached for the doorknob, and then the odor hit him. Shukovsky's cologne. What the hell? He opened the door without a sound, and saw Shukovsky bent over the desk, looking through files with the aid of a small flashlight. He watched for a few minutes, until Shukovsky pulled out a paper, perused it, then folded it and put in the pocket of his jacket. "What are you doing?" His whisper froze Shukovsky in place. The other man stood up straight and turned to face him. "I'm helping myself to your past, that's what I'm doing. Getting proof." "Why?" "Money, power, fame." "Explain." "I get to be famous for revealing to the world that there really are vampires, and that more a couple of them live right here in good old TO, and that one of them happens to be a public servant. The taxpayers will love that." "How long have you known? "A while." "And the money?" "They're paying me very well indeed for telling all to a scriptwriter You've seen the results. Forever Knight." "And the power?" Something wasn't right. Shukovsky was a friend as well as a partner. He'd put his life on the line for his partner more than once. "Would you turn on the light? I can't see in the dark--yes, yes, I know you can, but I can't. Yet." Darras turned on the overhead light. "Go on." "Well, you see, I had this cunning plan ... " "This isn't Blackadder, Shuko. This is my life we're talking about here. Mat's life. Nanette's life. What do you think will happen to us if you "tell all"?" "You'll go back." "Go back where?" Shukovsky had seemed completely sure of himself until that question, but now he faltered. "I'm ... I'm not ... I don't know." Darras knew. Le Carre. Again, as always, Le Carre. This had been his plan. Shukovsky would never have done this unless someone else had placed the idea in his mind. Damn him. It didn't matter who else he hurt, as long as he got his revenge. Yet, he'd said "yet." So that was Le Carre's plan-- Shukovsky would tell his story to the papers, thinking Le Carre would bring him across as payment. But Le Carre wouldn't ever bring him across-- instead, after he spilled his guts to the reporters, his own blood would be spilled. "Shuko, put down the papers." "But ... I have to get proof." "No one is going to believe you. No one believes in vampires. They don't exist. Do you hear me? Vampires do not exist. I am not a vampire. I am Darras Wright, your partner, and your friend. Do you understand?" "I ... I ... understand. You are not a vampire. There are no vampires." "That's right, Shuko. Remember that. Forever Knight is just a television show. It's not real. Do you understand?" "I understand." "Good. Now go home to Myra. You won't remember this. You stopped by after work to tell me about the Miller case, didn't you?" "Yeah, I had to tell you about the Miller case. I'm gonna go home now. Myra's gonna be upset because I'm so late." "She'll understand. Now give me the papers and go." "Bye. See you tomorrow night." ******************************** Scene: Nanette's Office at The Crow "So it was Shukovsky. At Le Carre's command." "But it backfired, because Le Carre didn't like the way the scriptwriters portrayed him. He didn't realize he would come across as such a nasty, devious bastard. That's why he was in such a rage." "You've talked to him?" "I've talked to him. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed to wipe Shukovsky's memory of the whole thing." "But can you trust him?" "He'll keep his part of this bargain. Keep Shukovsky out of it, and I won't tell the scriptwriters the truth about him. That they've only skimmed the surface of his evil." "So the series will go on?" "It will if the fans have anything to say about it. They're a very vocal group." "And we'll go on with our lives, as if none of this has happened." "Well, not quite. Mat knows most of my past now, and we can't ever go back to the way we were before. It's not possible. She'll have to decide whether she can live with that knowledge, and go on with the search for a cure, or whether she's through with me." "You know what I think about that search." "I do. But I don't have time to go into that argument again. I'm late for work. Bye." A quick kiss, and he was on his way out of the club. She watched him walk away. "And you, fool that you are, do you think she'll have to think very h hard about which she'll choose?" she whispered, and went to the bar to check on olores. The End ******************************* Comments to scotts@baylor.edu or sss44@aol.com