I'm not quite sure where this one came from, but it's been
bugging me for a while, so I thought I'd better write it down.
I guess it falls into my post-LK universe, which begins with
the story 'Puzzles,' since Tracy seems to know that Nick is a
vampire. Don't ask me, I just put the words on the paper.
My post-LK series is available at:
 www.pioneerplanet.infi.net/~nancykam/newfic.html

The *really* short version: No one dies. <g>

Nick and Co. belong to JP and Co.. I am only borrowing them
for a short time. No copyright infringement is intended.
Permission is granted to archive on fkfanfic (thanks, Mel)
and the ftp site. Thanks to Nancy Kaminski and Cindy Ingram
for their assistance with this. 

Just Passing Through
part 01/02
by Kathy Whelton
(c) 1998


Jeanne licked her lips nervously as she glanced around
the precinct. She tried to remind herself that she was a
guest here--this time. She wasn't being busted. She didn't
need to worry about where the bail would come from, or what
would happen if it didn't. She didn't have to worry that some
do-gooder would guess her real age and call Social Services
on her. That was all behind her now. Still, old memories died
hard--some a little harder than others.

"May I help you, Miss...?" Sergeant Wilson looked up from her
desk and stared intently at the young woman standing in front
of her.

"It's Lavoie. Jeanne Lavoie. Jeanne swallowed hard. The
feeling that she had done something wrong still clung to her.
"I'm here to see Nick...I mean, Detective Knight."

"Detective Knight isn't on duty tonight," the Sergeant answered
perfunctorily. "Is this in reference to a case that he's working
on?"

"I know," Jeanne stammered. "I mean, I know he's not on duty
and this doesn't have to do with a case. I'm a friend of his--
he asked me to meet him here."

"Really?" Sergeant Wilson's eyes lit up. Nick usually kept his
personal life exactly that--personal. This could be interesting.

"Yes, really," Jeanne stated, trying to sound a lot more sure
of herself than she felt. Maybe she should have gone with her
instincts and avoided this place altogether. Police stations
were nothing but bad karma for her.

"Why don't you take a seat over at his desk and make yourself
comfortable?" She gestured towards the center of the bullpen.
"That's his desk right next to Detective Vetter. I'm sure she
won't mind."

"Thanks," she said hesitantly. She squelched a sudden urge to
turn and flee the station--that's what she would have done
before. Jeanne squared her shoulders and moved towards the desks.

"Excuse me?" Jeanne asked softly. "Are you Detective Vetter?
That officer at the desk said I could wait here for Detective
Knight."

Tracy spun around in response to her name. "Oh she did, did she?"
Tracy responded sharply. "Well, I'm afraid Detective Knight isn't
expected tonight." Apparently mythical archetypes were somehow
under the impression that they were immune from the
responsibilities of paperwork. "He managed to get the night off."
And just how he managed it, she would still like to know.

"Oh," Jeanne answered, taken aback. "He did ask me to meet him
here."

"I'm sorry." Tracy's shoulders slumped. She had no right to be
taking her issues with Nick out on anyone but Nick. "I didn't
mean to snap at you. Is this about a case?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I'm just a friend, passing through
town. He said this would be more convenient."

A friend. Tracy looked more closely at the young woman in front
of her. She was a bit pale, her clothes trendy--she could be.
Tracy stuck her hand out in greeting, hoping the gesture didn't
seem too forced. "I'm sure if Nick said he'd be here, he will.
I'm Nick's partner, Tracy Vetter."

Jeanne returned the handshake. "I'm Jeanne. It's nice to meet
you." She glanced around--both desks were piled high with files.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Believe me, I could use some interrupting right about now."
The hand was warm and Tracy felt a twinge of disappointment. She
supposed that the 96th Precinct would be a pretty unlikely
meeting place if the girl had been a vampire. Tracy lifted a
stack of files off of Nick's chair. "Please, sit down."

"Thanks." Jeanne eased herself into the now vacant seat.

"So." Tracy resumed her own seat and leaned across the desk,
staring intently at the girl. She was young--no more than early
twenties now that she got a closer look at her. Still, there was
something, an edge to her that Tracy couldn't quite put a finger
on. She plastered on her brightest smile. "So," she repeated.
"You're a friend of Nick's?"

"Yeah," Jeanne started slowly. "What *is* the big deal about
this? First the sarge there looks at me like I'm a bug under a
glass, now you're doing the same thing."

Tracy's smile hardened slightly. "It's just that Nick's never
mentioned you and he doesn't have many...friends." Not normal
ones at any rate. "I guess you just have us a bit curious is all.
I didn't mean to pry."

Jeanne shrugged. "There's no big mystery. I used to live here in
Toronto, now I don't." Jeanne's eyes softened. "Nick was very
kind to me when I was here."

"How long ago was that?" Tracy prompted.

Jeanne smiled. At least she could smile now and that was
something. Her life in Toronto seemed so long ago--almost
like it was a different life, somebody else's life. It was
hard to believe that she had only been gone from here for
three years. She had left all of this behind when she got on that
plane and she hadn't looked back, at least not until tonight.
Maybe plane rides had a funny way of doing that to you.

She glanced across the desk. The blonde cop was still waiting
for an answer. Still waiting to hear about how she happened to
become friends with a homicide detective. It wasn't like she
hadn't wondered the same thing herself a thousand times.

"I met Nick six or seven years ago. I guess 'met' isn't exactly
the right word--we first noticed Nick about then." Jeanne's eyes
narrowed. "I would have *sworn* he wasn't a cop then--he sure
didn't act like one."

Six or seven years ago would have made the girl in front of her
a teenager. Tracy leaned forward, intrigued. "What do you mean
'not like a cop?'"

"You guys are pretty easy to pick out, even when you don't
realize it." Jeanne's smile tightened. "There aren't too many
reasons why someone starts spending time out on the streets.
Either they're a cop looking for information, or they're looking
for some cheap action, usually sex or drugs. Nick was...I
dunno...different. You could tell right off he wasn't one of
us--not with those clothes and that bike he was riding, but he
wasn't quite one of *them* either."

Tracy shook her head. "I'm afraid you've lost me--one of
'us?'"

"You know, homeless. I was living on the streets back then,
me and my boyfriend, Topper." The smile slid from her face. "Nick
would come around a lot, usually with some food or clothes. We
had bets going for a while on just what his angle was." She
shrugged. "When we finally decided he didn't have an angle, he
announces he's a cop--a detective, no less, and that we probably
won't be seeing him so much. Doctor Dave said he musta been a cop
all along, but I don't know..."

Tracy struggled to keep the excitement she was feeling from her
face. Nick, here in Toronto, but not as a cop. Of course, it did
make sense. He had only been on the force a relatively short
period of time--she had just never considered the possibilities.
This was definitely worth looking into. She glanced up at the
clock. Close to an hour had passed since Jeanne's arrival. If
Nick zoned out and blew this girl off, she'd personally take a
stake to him. "It looks like Nick's been delayed. Can I get you
anything, a soda, coffee? Are you hungry?"

Her stomach was in such a knot she doubted she could eat a thing
even though breakfast had been a very long time ago. "Coffee
would be great, thanks. That stuff on the airplane was awful."

Tracy returned and set the steaming, styrofoam container on her
partner's desk. "Where is it you said you were coming from?"

"I didn't." Jeanne glanced over the rim of the cup. Was it just
second nature for cops to interrogate everyone they met, or was
this woman fishing for something in particular? She took another
sip of the dark brown liquid--it wasn't much better than the
stuff on the plane. Did it really matter what Nick's partner was
looking for? She was talking about this for the first time in a
long time and it actually felt good. "I'm in school in Vancouver.
This is my junior year and I'm doing a semester abroad. I'm only
in Toronto for a layover."

"Really!" Tracy's eyes brightened. "I wanted to do something like
that, but my father wouldn't hear of it. He wanted me right where
he could keep an eye on me. Where are you going?"

"Paris--the Sorbonne."

"That's pretty impressive."

"Go ahead, you can say it." Jeanne's face tightened. "That's
pretty impressive for a kid who was living in a cardboard box
just a few years ago."

"That's not what I meant," Tracy responded gently.

But that's how it felt, at least to her. She was way out of her
league and she knew it--even if no one else seemed to. Vancouver
had worked out pretty well, but she couldn't shake the fear that
someone would see her for what she really was, the things she had
done, and throw her out on her ear.

Jeanne looked up at the clock. Maybe Nick wasn't coming after
all. Maybe the whole thing had been a really bad idea. *They*
always said you couldn't go home again, whoever the hell *they*
were. Maybe this counted as home. "It doesn't look like he's
going to show." Jeanne rose to her feet. "I guess I'll be
heading back to the airport."


End part one
Comments welcome
KWhelton@compuserve.com


Please see standard disclaimers in part one.

Just Passing Through
part 02/02
by Kathy Whelton
(c) 1998


"Wait, please." Tracy rested a hand on the girl's arm. She had
obviously made quite an effort to see Nick--she'd hate for
her to walk away disappointed. She got the distinct impression
that this girl had been disappointed far too many times in her
life already. "Nick's been known to lose track of time--trust me
on this one. Let me make a few calls and see if I can find him."

A quick check at the morgue was unsuccessful and the machine was
on at the loft. She left a brief message 'suggesting' that
Nick at least call the station as soon as he could. Tracy
replaced the receiver. "What time is your flight?"

"Not until six am," Jeanne acknowledged.

"So you might as well hang around a little longer...unless you
have anyone else to see?"

"No," Jeanne paused, "there's no one." Even if there was anyone
left from the old days, she couldn't bring herself to go back
there. That part of her life was over.

"Well, I better get back to these files or my Captain will have
my head. Do you mind?"

"Sure, go ahead," Jeanne replied. "Is there anything I can do to
help?"

Tracy pointed at a stack of files sitting on Nick's desk. "You
can alphabetize those if you want." Tracy rolled her eyes. "I
can't wait for the day when everything is finally put into the
computer."

The two worked in silence for a while. Tracy slid a glance
towards the younger woman diligently organizing the pile
in front of her. It was strange to think of her living on
the streets. "What about your boyfriend?"

"Excuse me?"

"The boyfriend you mentioned, Topper, was it? No plans to visit
with him while you're here?"

Jeanne felt her heart skip a beat. "He's dead--murdered," she
said in a voice devoid of emotion. There, she said it, even if it
still didn't feel real to her--not even after all this time.

"I'm sorry..." Tracy fumbled. "I had no idea."

"There's no way you could've known." Jeanne shrugged and tried to
look casual--not an easy thing to do with your lungs threatening
to explode, but she'd had lots of practice with looking casual.
"It was all over the papers at the time. They called him the
'vampire killer' because he took his victims' blood."

"I do remember hearing about it," Tracy recalled
enthusiastically. "I was fresh out of the Academy at the time.
That did make quite a splash in the press. The guy turned out to
be a blood bank technician, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Jeanne replied, her voice tight. "He had some *thing*
about the homeless--something about type O blood or something.
I never really got the whole thing clear in my head."

"So that was Nick's case?" What she would give to have seen
that. Tracy sat back in her chair and tried to remember more
about the circumstances surrounding the whole affair. Something
about a jade cup from the ROM and a Mayan blood drinking ritual.
She was willing to bet there was a whole lot more that never made
the papers. "Funny--Nick never mentioned it." Of course, what
*did* Nick ever mention, at least to her? "Didn't he get killed
at the end?"

"Yeah," Jeanne acknowledged. Not that it brought Topper, or
anyone else Fenner had killed back, but she had to admit that it
had brought her some grim satisfaction to know he was dead too.
"I was there...I guess." She shook her head. That was one of the
things that never seemed quite real to her. She could remember
Dr. Hunter coming to the door and the fire... Jeanne smiled
thinly. Maybe there were some things better left forgotten.
"Things really started to fall apart for me after that. *I*
really fell apart after that."

"I'm sure it must have been tough, losing your boyfriend like
that." Tracy grimaced. She remembered the wave of hysteria that
had swept the city at the time. "Especially like that."

Jeanne sat down abruptly in Nick's chair, her own weight suddenly
more than she could support. "Topper was a lot more than just my
boyfriend, he was my lifeline. He was a busker, a street
musician--not a very good one." She smiled, to be honest, he was
downright awful. "Still, it gave us enough money to eat on a
fairly regular basis. With that gone..."

Jeanne didn't need to fill in the blanks--Tracy had seen enough
of kids on the street to know the rest of the story. There was
always some lowlife willing to exploit them for a few bucks--the
price of a meal was a hell of a lot cheaper than paying for a
prostitute. "What about home, family?" Tracy asked quietly.

Jeanne snorted. "'Family' is why I left home--my stepfather to be
exact. *Anything* was better than having to do him." She gave
Tracy a sidelong glance. The color had risen a bit in the
Detective's cheeks, but she made no comment. "Anyway, that's when
I started drinking--you know, to forget the whole thing ever happened--to forget that *I* ever happened. I thought I could
just float off into oblivion and no one would ever notice."

Tracy slid into her own seat and looked intently at the young
woman in front of her--she had indeed come a long way. "So
where does Nick fit into all this--besides the case, I mean?"

"Nick noticed." The tears threatened for the first time, but
Jeanne brushed them away. "Not in that holier-than-thou kinda
way--Nick told me once he wasn't in any kind of position to
judge what anyone else did to survive. He was just...there."
A giggle sprang unexpectedly from her lips. "He used to scare
away my regular customers--you know that creepy way he has
sometimes?"

Tracy nodded--she knew it well. It was a side of Nick
she hoped never to see directed at her. "Lots of times, though, I'd just wake up on his couch after a
bender with no memory of how I'd gotten there." Jeanne glanced
nervously at Tracy. "Not that anything ever happened between us,"
she injected quickly. "He never laid a finger on me--he was
always the perfect gentleman. I started calling him my knight-in
-shining-armor. Get it--*Knight*--armor? But that just seemed to
make him sad, so I stopped."

Tracy leaned into the desk, intrigued. The Nick she knew was
cool--cold even, except maybe when it came to Natalie.
It had confused the hell out of her when they had first been
partnered together, later she had put it down to his vampire
nature. Apparently, her partner was as great a mystery to her now
as he had ever been. The idea of him bringing a drunken, homeless
teenager back to his precious loft boggled her mind. "So what
happened?"

"You mean how did I go from being nothing to being a successful
college student?" Jeanne shrugged. "I finally figured that if
Nick could see something in me worth fighting for, maybe it was
about time that I saw it too. Not that it was easy." She held
her hand out to dismiss that notion. "I went back to that life
more times than I can count--it was the only thing I knew. But
finally the twelve step thing started to make some sense to me.
I took my high school equivalency test and then Nick came up
with this scholarship to college."

"Came up with?" Tracy echoed skeptically.

"I know. I know," Jeanne replied. She could see the look of
disbelief in the Detective's eyes. "Who on earth would give
a scholarship to a kid with no diploma, no money and no
recommendations except from a rehab counselor? I didn't believe
it at first either. You don't live the way I did and survive by
being naive, but it was all on the up and up. The money comes
from someplace called the de Brabant Foundation--I checked it
out, apparently they give away a bundle every year."

A spark of recognition crossed Tracy's face. That name had a
tendency to pop up in the oddest places--and it was always
somehow related to Nick. She might have to do a bit of checking
herself one of these days.

Jeanne was looking at her closely. "You've heard of it then?"

"No...well, maybe in the papers or something. Is that where the
money for the trip is coming from too?"

The trip--Jeanne felt her stomach lurch again, but didn't know
if it was excitement, or just plain fear. She had said too much
already to this total stranger. If anyone ever found
out..."Yeah," she responded weakly. "It's not a free ride,
though. I had to work in the cafeteria and save..."

Jeanne's words ended abruptly and Tracy followed the girl's eyes
across the room.

Nick crossed the bullpen in three long strides, his coat flowing
behind him, his hair a wild mass of golden curls. "Sorry I'm
late." He reached out and grabbed Jeanne's hands as she came to
her feet. "Just look at you," he stated, a broad grin crossing
his features. "You're all grown up."

"Nick!" Jeanne flung her arms around and squeezed him tightly,
the relief flooding through her. She could feel the sting of
tears in her eyes again. "Do I look all right?" Jeanne tugged on
the line of her dress as she spoke. "I wasn't sure what to
wear..."

"You're fabulous." Nick cut her off before she could finish. He
brought the back of her hand to his lips and brushed them
lightly. "You'll be the toast of Paris--the city will never be
the same again."

Jeanne blushed deeply and rolled her eyes. "Does he always talk
like this?" she directed towards Tracy.

"Not to me he doesn't," Tracy replied with a wry grin. "We were
beginning to wonder if you were going to show, Nick."

"Sorry," he responded. "I didn't like the job the crime scene
people did on the MacNeil shooting, so I went back over the alley
myself. Then I had to go back to the loft and shower and..."

"Well," Tracy interrupted. "Did you find anything?"

The grin was back. "Just this." Nick pulled a baggie out of
his coat pocket. In it was a single bullet. "I'm willing to bet
this one matches the bullet Nat removed from our victim. I dug it
out of the wall over the dumpster--that pretty much contradicts
the statement made by our 'witness.'"

"YESSS!" Tracy shouted. "I *knew* he was feeding us a line of
bull."

Nick dangled the baggie in front of her and grinned sheepishly.
"Do you mind, Trace?"

Tracy's smile vanished. "Do I *mind*? You mean, do I mind running
this over to ballistics? Do I mind waiting for the comparison
with forensics? Do I mind getting a warrant and arresting this
*scumbag* and then spending half the day doing the paperwork?" A
gleam came to her eye. "No." She smiled. "Not at all. From the
sound of it, you two deserve a night on the town--just have some
fun for me, will you?"

"Consider it done," Nick responded. "Just please be careful and
be sure and call me if there's any trouble."

Tracy rolled her eyes. "I do know what I'm doing, Nick. I'm not
a rookie anymore, you know?"

"I do know," Nick replied, his voice uncertain. "I'm sure
everything will be fine." He turned and took Jeanne by the hand.
"So, what did you have in mind?"

"I thought we might just ride around a bit and talk. There aren't
too many convertibles in Vancouver and I kind of miss the wind in
my hair."

"Um...," Nick scrambled. "That might be a bit of a problem." It
would be less of a problem if he could only remember what alley
he had left the Caddy in.

"Still having trouble with that old boat?" Tracy interjected,
smiling sweetly at her partner. She dug her hand into her front
pocket. "Here, take mine," she said, handing the keys to Nick.
"I'll check something out of the motor pool. The trunk's pretty
full already, though, so do be careful."

"I will." Nick eyed her evenly. "And thanks."

"Any time." Tracy smiled as the pair exited the precinct. Maybe
even mythical archetypes deserve a little slack...sometimes.


The End

Comments welcome
KWhelton@compuserve.com
My FK fiction sites:
      www.pioneerplanet.infi.net/~nancykam/newfic.html
      http://patriot.net/~piercelh/kathy.html