From sclark@best.com Tue Jul 28 11:40:39 1998 Date: Sun, 12 Jul 1998 19:12:06 -0700 From: clark To: fkfanfic@merlin.darkmage.net Subject: Around Every Coroner Permission given to archive at fkfanfic website as well as FTP site. No other permission is granted to repost/reprint/reuse. If you're interested drop me a line. As always, feedback is welcomed and highly appreciated. And, as long as you're still reading, I figure I'll take the opportunity to mention a worthwhile FK-related charity that's running concurrent to the posting of this story to the fkfic-l list. Todays event is the GWDFC "Black Harbour" Charity Raffle. If this event sounds interesting and you'd like more info check with the GWDFC or feel free to drop me a line. If you don't like the story please don't hold it against the GWDFC. While I asked permission to mention their charity they knew nothing about what story it'd be tacked onto. This story is based on characters and situations that aren't mine. Thanks to TPTB for their use. Around Every Coroner (01/02) by S. Clark The sign above the speakers podium read 'North American Society of Forensic Pathologists.' It was a formal affair, this evening's mixer. Black tie was standard for the gentlemen. Spouses were invited so the shop talk was being kept to a minimum. This meant a room of over a hundred gathered pathologists with little to talk about besides sports or weather. Natalie was standing amongst a group of Pathologists from other Canadian cities when she heard the 'beep...beep...beep' of a pager. She, as well as those around her, checked their pagers to see who got the honors. As luck would have it, it was hers. But the number was local. She didn't think she knew anyone in Chicago, let alone anyone who'd know to contact her here. "If you'll excuse me I'd better find out what's up." She walked out to a bank of pay phones in the hallway and, after locating an American quarter in her bag, called the number. "Hello," said a muffled voice. "This is Lambert, I was paged for this number." She waited a moment and heard nothing from the other end. 'Probably a pathologist playing a joke,' she mused. 'Real funny. Maybe Desmond from Saskatoon.' Cold hands gripped her from behind and she opened her mouth to scream. One of the hands moved to clamp itself over her mouth. "Please don't scream," said a familiar voice. The hands released her. She wheeled around to find herself face to face with Nick Knight. Nat slugged him on the shoulder. "I hate it when you sneak up on me." He grinned. 'Nick, here?' she thought. "What are you doing in Chicago, Nick?" Nick grasped her hands. "I need you, Natalie." "Really?" She hated being wary but they'd each guarded their feelings for so long, even from themselves. "I realized I needed to see you tonight, and got on the last available flight." She smiled, returning his grasp. "I'm flattered, I don't know what to say." "Say we can go up to your room right now," he answered. His voice was emphatic, urgent. "But the conference." She waved towards the room full of overdressed coroners. "The conference will still be here. It shouldn't take long." Natalie thought it sounded kind of odd. But, then again, he was a vampire. Odd had become standard operating procedure in their relationship. "Ok." She was again wary. "And you brought your medical bag, right? We may need it." Nick turned and started towards the elevators. Nat followed for a few steps then stopped. "Nick?" He kept going. "Nick," she repeated, a little louder. He finally realized she wasn't tagging along just behind, as usual, and stopped. "What?" It was that innocent face. The one that always said trouble. "What exactly are we going to do in my room." He looked around for others in the hallway then walked up close to her. "I don't want to yell it," he said. She was starting to blush. "But I need you to get some bullets out." Natalie's face, as well as her spirits, dropped. "Bullets?" Nick smiled. "Yes, bullets. What did you think I was talking about?" Nat rolled her eyes. "You came down here to get me to remove bullets?" "Yes," he said proudly. She turned and started to walk back to the conference room. "Nat?" he called after her. She didn't stop. He ran to catch up with her. "Nat?" he said again, holding onto her arms to get her to stop walking. "What's wrong?" "Nick, I'm at a conference. I'm even at a party. Look, I'm wearing a dress." He took a second look and noted that she was, indeed, wearing a dress. A quite flattering dress if he really took the time to consider it. "And?" "And?" She was mystified by how clueless he could be at times. "And I'm busy. Take out your own bullets." He looked at her with a sad face. "I tried. I would have tried, that is. But, well, I can't reach them to get them out the easy way. And it's rather messy to get at them any other way." "How long have you had these bullets, Nick?" "Since last night." "Then they can wait a little longer. If you'll excuse me." Natalie turned on her heel and re-entered the party leaving a stunned Nick standing in the hallway. He did get a chance to admire the dress yet again, this time as it and its occupant moved away from him. All he'd done to get here. Rushing through the airport. Having to whammy the women at the security station. After he'd set off the metal detectors they'd all wanted to strip search him. And this was even before they'd had him empty his pockets and take a second trip through the detector. And now, rejected. He walked to the ballroom but was stopped by a burly man standing in the doorway. "Excuse me, sir, but this event is by invitation only." Nick gestured at Natalie's quickly retreating form. "But it's imperative I speak with Doctor Lambert." The man wasn't buying it. "I'm one of her patients," Nick added. Now the man really wasn't buying it. "You do know these are all pathologists, don't you, sir?" Nick looked into the man's eyes and concentrated on his heartbeat. "You will allow me into the reception." The man's expression didn't change. "I don't believe I will, sir. But if I need to I will call the police." 'Great,' Nick thought, 'always a resistor when you least need one.' Around Every Coroner (02/02) by S. Clark Nick took the elevator to the kitchen level of the hotel. He'd been in enough situations that he knew just act like you know where you're going no one will bother you. With a little searching he found what he was looking for. The supply room for the waiters. Nick emerged a few minutes later. He'd swiped a shirt, bowtie and red jacket. That, coupled with his black pants and shoes, made him blend in with the rest of the wait staff. He grabbed a tray filled with glasses of red wine and headed for the staff elevator. Once within the reception it would only be a matter of convincing Natalie of the urgency of the situation and he was sure she would help. He'd been shot at least 8 times. A few of the hits made a sitting position uncomfortable. A few more made standing worse. He had contemplated levitating until the bullets were out but that could prove problematic in public. "Can I get a cup of coffee please," asked an older woman as he walked by. "I'm working wine," said Nick, and kept walking. Imagine the folly. Some of them actually wanted him to serve. "I think the coffee boy is on bathroom break." Nick finally spotted her. He'd know the back of that dress anywhere, not to mention the front of the person within. He walked up behind her. "Nat, please, make time for me now." She turned and saw his waiter guise. She started to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the noise. She placed her wine glass on Nick's tray and took a full one. "Perfect timing." A man walked up to Natalie. "Do you have time for that dance now?" She sipped from the wineglass. "A lovely idea, Desmond." She placed the glass down, again taking advantage of Nick's new vocation, and took the offered arm. Nat looked at Nick and scrunched up her nose. "Bye." Nick frowned as he watched her walk off. He placed the tray on a nearby table and moved closer to the dance floor hoping to get Natalie's attention. He couldn't believe it. She appeared to be enjoying herself. Dancing. With another man. She could have been, correct that, should have been, helping him. Nick was disturbed by a tapping on his shoulder. He ignored it. The tapping became more insistent. "What?" he hissed. "What do you think you're doing?" It was a young voice. "I'm busy," said Nick. "If you expect to keep your job here you'd better get busy doing something else," said the voice, speaking in a whine. Nick moved to face the speaker. The young man had problem acne. Nick was ready to make a scene when he remembered he was here in disguise and under false pretenses. He looked at the young man, concentrating on his heartbeat. But then he realized the adolescent wasn't making eye contact. Low self esteem tended to make a whammy pretty difficult. "Now take that coffee around to the guests," ordered the man, his voice cracking on the last word of the sentence. Nick nodded and grabbed the coffee pot. He walked past two motioning older women en route to his position standing guard over the dance floor. Again, he felt an interruption. This time a tugging on his jacket. "Excuse me, but my wife would like some coffee." Nick shrugged off the hand. "Why I never," muttered the man as he walked away. The dance ended. He could see her on the dance floor. She was talking with the man she'd been dancing with. She actually appeared to be having fun. As Nick started to walk towards her the music resumed. This was a swing number and a few couples were really starting to get into it. One man twirled his partner out and into Nick's path. She bumped the arm he was holding the coffeepot with and it slipped from his hand. Another couple bumped into Nick from behind and the forward momentum sent him tripping over the coffee pot and sliding on the wet floor. His feet went out from under him and he landed flat on his back, his very thick skull impacting the floor with a dull 'thud.' A woman nearby screamed and everyone rushed over to the source of the commotion. The music stopped as the representative coroners from all over North America huddled around Nick. Natalie pushed her way to the front of the crowd. A man was kneeling over Nick, checking his pulse. "I can't find a pulse," the man announced. "And he's not breathing." "Maybe we should pick numbers to see who gets to pronounce him," said a voice, the words slurred with alcohol. Nick stayed still. It wouldn't be easy to explain the concept of undead to a room full of medical practitioners. And he'd met enough resistors tonight to make any brash movements unwise. "Maybe it's not so bad." It was a woman's voice. More precisely, her voice. He felt a warm hand on his neck. "I think there's something, but it's faint." Nat bent over and blew two quick breaths into his mouth, then felt for the pulse again. "I definitely feel something." She covered his mouth again, pinching his nose shut, and started giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. "C'mon," she whispered between breaths. "Now would be a good time." Nick, although enjoying his current state, realized that it was important to revive quickly or he'd find himself loaded onto an ambulance. His eyes fluttered. As they did, he gave Nat a quick wink. He gasped in a huge breath, then coughed. She felt his pulse again. "Don't overdo it." she whispered. The first doctor who'd checked his pulse reached out tentatively to check it again. Nat forced Nick into a sitting position and the man missed Nick's throat. "Feeling better?" she asked him. "Much," Nick agreed. Nat looked at the crowd around her. "Maybe I should take him to the hospital." "An ambulance is on the way," said one spectator. Another offered. "He may have a head injury." She helped Nick to his feet. "It'll be quicker if we take a cab." The room broke into applause as he two of them left, everyone abuzz over the waiter's miraculous recovery. Nat brought Nick up to her room. She pulled out the medical bag and a large pair of forceps. "Ok Nick, drop 'em." "Excuse me?" "Don't be modest. We're getting this over with. Then you can make up to me." "For what?" "I'll explain." "How am I going to make up to you?" he asked, more than a bit curious. "I'll explain that, too," she said. Nick thought he liked the sound of that. He smiled, and dropped his pants.