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The Black Taxi  (01/01)
by Jeannie Ecklund  5-19-00
Gersknightlady@cs.com
This was inspired by a small group of Taxis in my own hometown called
Knight's Taxi Cab Service.  However, they are not black.

No infringement of anyone's right intended.  Permission for Teri and
Mel to archive and whoever I send it too J..


The Black Taxi cab sat at the curb.  The driver drummed his  fingers
on the steering wheel.  His fare was late.  The driver had been in New
York a little over two years and drove the night shift.  His life was
ruled by the passengers he drove, through them he touched life.  As
each night neared to a close, he returned to the garage and to the
tiny apartment above it to sleep the day away.

His life was so different from what he'd led in the past.  Gone were
his fine clothes and comfortable apartment, as well as the job that
fulfilled his life,  his friends and loved ones.  He'd burned all
those bridges one fateful night.  He made a choice that ended that
life and sent him off in a very different direction, a course far from
his former life.

The hotel door suddenly burst open with activity.  A large group of
people crowded out the door; milled around say their good nights to
old and new friends.  It was some sort of convention.

The attendees headed for the line of taxis.  A man tried to enter the
driver's car, "Sorry, Mac.  I was called by a passenger."

"Geeze."  The gentlemen backed out, slammed the door, and started to
look for another taxi.

The driver checked his log sheet. "Woman, blonde, short hair."

A woman came forward and stared at the taxi.

The driver bent to take in the woman's blonde hair, but her coat
collar was pulled up to nearly cover her face.  She didn't lean down
toward him, but stood there lost in thought.

He called out in his best cabbie voice, "Hey lady, are you going to
get in?"

He put the logbook away and didn't see her lower her face to look at
him.  Shock and relief registered on her face.  She let out a soft
breath that trembled, stepped to the back and took hold of the door
handle with nervous fingers.  She pulled the door open and slid into
the back seat.

"Where to?" he asked not even glancing in the mirror.  One passenger
was the same as a million.

She spoke but her voice was somehow damaged and came out in a croaking
whisper.  "Is there a place to see a good view of the water and the
city?" 

The driver became uncomfortable, something seemed to tingle in his
brain, but he dismissed it.  "Yeah, I know a place.  It's pretty
unpopulated at night. The fare will be high though."

"Perfect," she croaked.

"It's your dollar, Lady."  He started the motor, and swung into the
traffic.

"Some kind of convention?" he asked, not interested, but making
conversation.

"Medical," she answered.

That comment caused him to withdraw into his own thoughts.  He saw a
beautiful woman with rich, dark brunette hair and a smile that would
light the night as no other had - but she was long dead.

The passenger called him back to the present.  "Have you been in New
York long?"

"A couple years."  The conversation was safe and the usual questions
people asked.  He was surprised how nosy people were.

"Wife? Kids?" she asked.

"No."

"Parents?"

"Mother's years gone, Father passed on a couple years ago."

"I'm so sorry," she said.  There seemed to be compassion in her voice,
yet he thought he heard sarcasm.  He glanced up in the mirror, but her
face was lost in the shadows.  He dismissed his thoughts.  It must
have been her voice, unable to express sound right.  Why would this
stranger find some pleasure in his father's death?  He continued to
drive, getting closer to the coast.

He decided a change of subject was best, and he only knew one thing
about her so he asked, " are you a doctor?"

"Not recently.  I've been on medical leave for several years.  I plan
to go back soon.  An accident robbed me of the use of my left side. 

It has taken a lot of rehabilitation," she whispered.

"I'm sorry," he said as he turned his attention to the road ahead.

The passenger leaned forward and raised her hand to touch his golden
curls.  Then she seemed to check herself and withdrew.

She asked, "Where'd they get the name for the taxi company?   I've
never seen black cabs in New York."

"I always thought being a Knight was a exciting part of history.  An
ancestor, who was a knight, fought in the crusades."

"Really," she whispered.   "You own the company then.  Why drive a
cab?"

"It's pretty small, just me and the dispatch, a young homeless girl I
helped off the streets.  I have a small apartment over the garage.  I
like to meet people.  A good friend once told me how much better my
life would be if  I didn't hide away so much." 

The driver didn't see the woman dab at her eyes with a tissue.
"Where's your friend now?"  she asked.

The driver was silent for a long moment.

The woman could hear the pain in his voice when he answered. "She's
dead.  Murdered."  His voice cracked.

"I'm so sorry.  You loved her?" she asked as she leaned forward to
hear the answer.

"Yes," he whispered so low she nearly didn't catch it.

The traffic was thinning now, and the buildings gave way to a
spectacular view of the coast and the distant Statue of Liberty.

He pulled up to the dock.  "This is it, Miss."

Another request came from her.  "Please.  I'll pay you to walk with me
to the end of the dock.  It's pretty isolated out here."

He sighed.  He usually didn't talk so much, or get involved with his
passengers.  It was best to stay distant.  Yet, he knew he could never
let this woman walk alone out there in that desolate place.  It was
also the best view he'd ever seen.

"No charge.  It's on the house," he said as he got out of the cab and
went around to open the door for her.

She slipped out and kept her face averted from him as she pulled the
collar up around her.

The driver thought, 'maybe she has injuries she doesn't want me to
see.' He rejected that thought the minute it formed.  She had been at
a convention.  She was probably just cold.  It was a cold night.  Her
short blonde hair caught a few distant lights and flashed gold. The
thick coat was expensive.

She passed in front of him to get on his right side.  He caught a
whiff of a familiar perfume that brought a lump to his throat.  He
stuffed the feelings down inside.  The scent was common enough.

They started forward and she walked with a slight limp. He offered her
his arm, she hesitated for a second, then took it.

The driver felt an almost electric charge when her bare fingers
touched bare skin.  His coat sleeve had ridden up and it made him jump
as he realized no one had touched him in years.  Since he had lost
her.

They were nearly at the end of the dock.  A moon, huge and white, rose
out of the water, behind the Statue of Liberty.  It seemed to happen
so quick as it lit the whole dock.

The woman's voice, a low whisper, broke his thoughts.  "Do you
remember the first moon we watched together?"  She gripped his hand
and held it tight.

A knot of panic rose in him.  He tried to control it as he gently
tried to extricate his fingers from her hand.  "Who are you?" he
asked.  'Is she crazy?' he thought.  He did not want to hurt this
woman no matter what her problems were.

She now turned to him, his hand still firmly held in her grip.  She
drew it to her chest.  "Nick."  His hand bumped a device on her coat. 
He felt a button push in.

He froze.  He could hear her heartbeat, so familiar.  She turned her
face up at him.

"Natalie!" He tore his fingers away and turned.  "No, you're dead!" He
recoiled and nearly fell in his fear.  "No," he cried again, "You're
dead!"  He wanted to run, take flight, but his feet felt glued to the
dock beneath him.

"No, Nick, I'm not dead.  You didn't kill me."  Her voice was a little
louder, but still terribly hoarse.  But it was Natalie's voice.  Nick
turned back, nearly blinded with tears.  His legs became rubbery and
his face was filled with agony and hope.  He fell to his knees on the
hard wood of the dock.

Natalie slowly dropped to her knees beside him and ignored the
splinters that stabbed through her nylons and into her skin. "Nick,
you touched me.  I'm alive."  She gently held his face in her hands
and sighed in relief when he didn't recoil again.  "Look at me!  You
didn't kill me." 

"Natalie!" he crushed her frail body to him.  "Oh my, God, Nat!" She
sobbed, harder than when she woke in the hospital alone.  "I thought
I'd never see you again." His lips crushed hers in a kiss that left
them both breathless.  He rained kisses all over her face.

She laughed and returned them.

Nick drew her to her feet so that he could feel the full length of her
body against his.  She had changed.  She was painfully thin under the
heavy coat.  He knew her voice was damaged and she limped.  "How could
you have survived?  How?"

"Please Nick, take me to your place.  We need to talk, and I want to
see you in the light."

He swung her up into his arms, ran back to the car and put her in the
front seat with him.  He drove the car with one hand, the other
interlaced with her fingers, afraid she might disappear.  He felt her
eyes on his face.  She was full of questions, but she only asked one.
"Is he really dead?"

"Yes," Nick confirmed.

They were silent for the rest of the drive.

Natalie scooted closer and raised his gloved hand.  His fingertips
were exposed through cut off gloves.  She pressed his hand to her
cheek.

Nick could feel the dampness of her tears against his skin.  She
kissed his finger tips and never said a word as they pulled into the
tiny garage and went up the dark stairs to the dim, sparsely decorated
apartment.

"Why do you live like this?"  she asked him.

"I thought I'd killed you.  I figured Joe Reese had a warrant out for
my arrest.  It's best for my kind to stay in the shadows, anyway."

"What?" she asked. "There's no warrant. Actually Joe is the one who
told me you were here."

It was Nick turn to be surprised.  "No warrant? Joe saw me here?"

"A month ago.  He was in New York and thought he saw you driving a
black cab."

"Why didn't he come after me?  I am easy to find if one knows what to
look for."

"I told him we had already said goodbye that night.  That you had left
town.  I told him I was devastated and had gone back to the loft, but
I was attacked outside.  That's where they found me."

"You were outside? LaCroix must have put you there."

"LaCroix came to the loft that night?" she asked, that could explain a
lot.

"Natalie, let me take your coat.  Get comfortable, then we can talk."
When she shrugged out of the coat, Nick could see she was even thinner
than he thought. He noticed a small device attached to the pocket.
"What's this?"  he asked, curious.

She grinned at him.  "Modern space age invention.  It masks the
heartbeat."

"What for?"  he curiously, fingered it.

"Not sure.  An old inventor friend loaned it to me.  I knew if you
could hear my heartbeat when I got into the cab, I wouldn't have a
chance to talk to you alone."

He hung the coat up and sat her down with her on the couch.  He sat
and faced her and their knees touched.  He reached up and caressed her
face and her hair.

"Why did you change your hair?"

She smiled and reached up.  Her fingers slid into the hair and she
pulled it back to reveal her own hair pinned to her head.  "I couldn't
have you recognize me too soon."

He grinned at her and as he pulled the pins from her hair.  It fell in
a cascade of  rich dark waves.  He ran his fingers through it to
spread the dark mass over her shoulders.  He leaned closer to bury his
nose in her hair, and inhaled the scent that was truly her.  "Forgive
me, Nat," he cried, overcome with her presence.

"I already have," she said, seriously.  "If  I hadn't, I would have
staked you on the dock."

That got his attention and he pulled back only to find her grin meet
his shocked expression.  He looked at her curiously.

She explained.  "When you spoke of your murdered friend and your
reaction when you recognized me, I realized why you hadn't come to see
me.  You believed there was no one to see.  I want to know why you
left, but first let me look at you."

She pulled the knit cap from his head and unwound the scarf from his
neck.  She ran her fingers though the soft, golden, curls and smiled
at his mustache and beard.  It had felt strange against her face,
earlier on the dock.  For an ageless vampire, his face did have new
lines on it and  it surprised her to see them.

Nick was looking over her face, and then down to her neck.  His eyes
rested on the dark scar at the base of her throat.  It spread into
other marks along her throat.  It was not the way he'd left her.  He
reached tentatively and touched it.  "How?" 

"Nick, the night you left, I was nearly drained.  You said LaCroix was
there.  He must have made it look like an animal attack.  My throat
was so swollen, I couldn't breathe.  The doctor had to perform a
tracheotomy. I suffered a mild stroke from loss of oxygen and I've
been in rehab for two years."  She saw tears of guilt spring into his
eyes.

"Don't feel responsible, Nick.  It was my fault.  I realized it long
ago. You were an emotional wreck and had been starving.  I shouldn't
have offered myself."

He blinked away his tears, but it didn't take the lump out of his
throat.
 
It was his fault, he should have been more in control.  "How were you
found in time?'

"The door to the loft was open, and the phone had been dialed to 911. 
The police concluded that a homeless person may have called, but
didn't want to get involved.  The case was closed."  She looked into
his eyes.  "You didn't make the call?"  She'd always thought that
maybe he had.

He wanted to turn away from her steady gaze, but he met her stare as
he tried not to let his guilt overpower him.  She raised her hand to
touch his face, and gave him a smile, that wonderful love-filled smile
she'd always bestowed on only him.

He let the guilt go. "No.  I wasn't able too."

"LaCroix." she whispered.

"Yes, LaCroix."  He told her about the walking staff and how LaCroix
had brained him rather than take his life as he had requested.  I woke
in France, in a gilded cage.  Literally.  It was nearly six months of
prison before I gave in and promised I would not walk into the sun."

"Nick, no! I would never want that from you."

"I promised you that we would be together, no matter what, but I
couldn't stand the cage, Nat.  He finally let me go and gave me my own
room in the villa, but there were always guards.  I got sick.  I
couldn't feed and I couldn't eat and keep it down.  I began to make
the protein drinks using trial and error.  They helped and gave me
back my strength."

"You don't drink blood anymore."  She was amazed and smiled at his
nod.

"No, one day LaCroix came to my room.  He was furious.  I didn't know
why.  He grabbed me and held me by my neck," his hand rubbed it, as he
remembered the pain.  "He bared his fangs and then said an astounding
thing."

"What?"  Nat asked as she touched his face.

He said, "Your heart is beating."

Natalie looked into his eyes, astonished.  "It worked?"

"Yes and no," Nick shook his head. "Not entirely."  He took her hands,
"I'm sort of halfway in between."

"What happened with LaCroix?" Natalie was unsure what she wanted to
hear first.

"He was going to drain me and try to bring me fully across again. It
terrified me the thought that it would take your gift of half-life
away and make your sacrifice worthless.  I didn't drink blood anymore
and I was happy that way.  I jerked away so quickly, it took him by
surprise.  I flipped backwards onto the bed as he lunged at me.  I
kicked at his chest with both legs and he flew up and back, so fast he
didn't have time to react. He shattered the window as he went through
it, tore the curtains down.  He fell into full sunlight.  I jumped
forward and reached out to him.  Nat, as much as I hated him, I tried
to save him.  He was my master.  I went out into the sunlight.

"Everything went into slow motion as LaCroix seemed to hang there a
moment in time.  His lips formed my name.  "Nicholas," his eyes filled
with sadness and my fingers barely grazed his when he screamed in rage
and vaporized.  

"I felt him die in my head, in my soul, if you will.  I hurt and my
skin was red.  When I ran back inside, I blacked out and fell back
behind the bed into the darkness.  When I came to, the window was
still open and it was still day, but it was a cloudy stormy day.  I
had only a sunburn and he was dead.  The others who had  helped keep
me captive had left and I was free to walk into the day. But as I
walked, I realized the day held no joy for me. You weren't there to
share it with me. So I came to New York and began to live on the night
shift again.

"Nick, if you had known I was alive..." 

"I would have never stayed away, Nat.  Never.  I would have been there
to help take care of you.  Helped you take your first step.  You
should hate me, Nat.  Look what I've done to your life.  Three years
of struggle and pain.  How can you look at me with love in your eyes?"

"You are the most wonderful sight I've seen in those three years,
Nick. Can *you* still love *me*? I'm crippled and scared.  When I saw
you again, you it made it all worth it."

He leaned forward and captured her lips.  Nick kissed her until they
were both breathless. "I have never loved anyone more." When he
released her, it was still Nick's blue eyes that looked back at her.

"The vampire, Nick?  Is it still there?"  She pressed her hand against
his chest.

"Yes, but it's weak and I can control it.  Maybe in a few more years I
will be human.  I seem to be stronger, and it's getting weaker as time
goes on, but the limbo is hard."

"Maybe we could hurry it along?" she suggested with an seductive grin.

He smiled back, amazed at her love for him.

"Come back to Toronto with me.  Come back to the loft."

"The loft?"

"I live there.  I sold the apartment and moved in.  All your things
have waited for you.  We can have our life together."

"How?"

"A lawyer gave me the deed and the contents.  I thought maybe you
wanted to know were I was, in case you decided to return so I stayed."

"Who would do that?  No one knew were I was except..."

"LaCroix," she finished for him.  "Maybe he was getting anxious about
your health and wanted to have a fall back plan?  Send you back if he
could not turn you?  In his own twisted way, he did love you, Nick."

"Father."  Nick whispered to himself.

"I've also been given power of attorney at the De Brabant foundation. 
I have done my best, but I would be glad to turn it over to the
master. "She smiled. "Please come back."  Her whisper was sweet, and
Nick could hear the voice he loved amidst the hoarseness.

He drew her to her feet.  "Let's go back.  I never want to draw
another breath without you by my side.  Marry me?" She drew back from
his arms and saw his eyes meet hers.  Both sets were filled with love,
hope and desire for the future.  

"Yes," she cried as his lips covered hers.

***The end***
Gersknightlady@cs.com