Date: Sat, 12 Jul 1997 11:14:30 -0400 To: FKArchiver@fkfanfic.com, choff@lanminds.com From: E McCann Subject: Web/FTP archive : "Returns" Consider this a greeting gift to some of my new affiliations, in the "no one dies, no one ever dies" spirit. This takes place after AtA, sometime during LK...(For the purposes of this story, Tracy had a concussion, not a head wound. Warning, Cheesy Rationalization (tm) ahead ) Characters belong to TPTB, except those incidentals I've created. I'll give them back when I'm done. Permission given to archive this on the web and FTP sites, if interested. ---- Return by: Eric McCann emccann@iag.net ----- Cold. So cold. He came to, vicious dreams still dancing in his head. he opened his mouth to scream, but no sound could come out as the soil poured into his mouth. The dreams had faded somewhat as his lifeblood poured out, soaked into the surrounding soil, but their taint remained. Out. He had to get out of here. Why was he in the soil? He tried to think back, but the hunger overtook his reason. His beast fought against being left in this earthen prison. //What time is it?// he thought, aware that the sun would do him severe harm, if still out. The beast within him didn't care. Joining his mistress in the sun's embrace would be preferable to being buried alive. Or undead. He started to claw at the soil to loosen it, then to lift, to fly out. But he couldn't do it. His strength had soaked into the soil with his blood. He clawed faster, dragging himself to the surface. As he hit the air, the scream that had died resurfaced in his throat as he met the light of the Sun. He ran, smoking, towards the water, his screams echoing through the waterfront. He dove into the water... cool water... where the sun's light was weaker. He swam under the water rapidly towards the pier, to the protective arms of the darkness. //Safe,// he thought, as he broke the surface. Safe from the sun, yes, but his body was wracked with the pains of the Hunger. He needed to feed, but could not, yet. =-=-=-= "Jimmy?" She had no name, this forgotten outcast from society. She wore the rags she'd worn for months, discards from civilization as she was. Her home had no walls, but was made among the parks and the rubble of the lakefront. They had chased her, poor her, as she had dug through the refuse of the city, finding some morsel or other for dinner. She had found a feast, tonight, just as the lights flashed around the corner, and the siren rang in her ears. But she had gotten away. And now, among the other forgotten fragments of the city, she reached into her pockets and pulled out the scraps she had gotten away with, her prize. And then the screams came. She had heard them before. Jimmy was her friend, but he had gotten involved with the white powder, the pills, whatever he could get. And when he couldn't get them, but his addiction made its demands, he screamed, just like that. And when he would scream, she would come to him, to hold him down, except that last night when he had run off, shrieking like the world would as it was tearing itself apart. That had been so long ago. Surely it wasn't him. But even if it wasn't, she knew she could help. She walked along the waterfront. "Jimmy? It's me. Jimmy, are you there?" She came to the pier, where they would hide from the rains and the midday sun, and called again. "Jimmy?" A head popped up. "Jimmy!" She yelled, and ran towards the head, long brown curls flowing down, covered in dirt. "Jimmy, I've come to help you! Stay there!" She reached the head, which turned to reveal glowing eyes. "No, not Jimmy, but Javier," said the head. "But I will still take your help, gratefully." She should run. But she couldnt move, as the person with the head stepped around her, then caressed her cheek, moving her matted hair out of the way. She felt his breath on her neck, then a sudden sharpness. "Jimmy," she whimpered, as her life flowed away. =-=-=-= Vachon drained the woman, feeling the shock, living her life even as he took it. He saw the bright future she almost had, as it slipped into her current life. He felt her despair, her loss of her friend, and then, just at the end, a small spark of gratitude that it was done. He turned her over, looking at her now lifeless face. She was a pretty woman, once, before life took its toll on her and forced her out of the world. His beast satiated, he brushed the hair away from her forehead. "Thank you, Samantha. Go find your Jimmy, in peace." He secured the body, underwater, then sat back to wait out the daylight. =-=-=-= "Tracy?" Vachon knocked on the door again, then looked down the hallway from Tracy's apartment. Tuning his senses, he listened at the door. Tracy's heartbeat was nowhere he could hear it. He reached in his pocket, and chuckled to himself. Despite her contention that they would never work out because of his "evil," she never asked for her key back. He opened the door, and went inside to wait for her. After cleaning off the mud, dirt, and seaweed with a quick shower, Vachon sat a while on the couch, occasionally getting up to look at some knicknack or other, the lingering scent of Tracy relaxing him, helping to keep his beast at bay. He picked up her stuffed tiger, turned it about in his hands, and smiling still, brought it with him to wait on the couch. He picked up the remote, absently stroking the stuffed animal, and turned on the TV. =-=-=-= Across town, Tracy was stealing into the locker room. She could hear Nick's voice in the darkness, talking to Dawkins, trying to calm him. She slipped in behind him, covering him with her gun, as the lights came on... =-=-=-= Javier sat there, watching a program covering some local bands. One of the bands he had a personal interest in was going to be on next. The program broke for commercials, and a "CBC News Brief" came on. Vachon rolled his eyes, and was about to get up when he saw an ambulance outside the precinct, and a gurney with a blonde head being loaded into it. He turned the volume up. "...apprehending a criminal who had somehow gotten free. The criminal, whose name has not been released, was shot and killed during the attempt. The detective, the daughter of the police commissioner, is in serious condition..." Vachon sat there, shocked, for a moment, then opened the window and flew out to find Tracy. =-=-=-= He reached the hospital in time to see Knight leave the building, followed minutes later by his coroner friend (who had called in a few favors to be kept up to date on Tracy's condition.) Looking down at his still-dirty clothes, he knew he wouldn't get very far in the hospital. Certainly he wouldn't be able to get near Tracy. Slipping in near the back, he went into the locker room and 'liberated' some new clothes. Going into the hospital proper, he "whammied" Tracy's location from an otherwise uncooperative nurse, and went in to see her. He stared a while at the bandage around her hair, the machines coldly beeping as she silenty fought for life. He stroked her hair as he sat down, then marvelled again at the number of wires connecting her to these machines. "Tracy, for the first time in years, I don't really know what to do. I'm back, and I'm here for you, but you don't even know it. I heard you, Trace. While I laid there, dead to you in your arms, I heard you. You've made a difference in me, and you don't realize it." He held up her hand, kissing it gently. "I will be here until the end, whichever end may come for you. If you hear me, though, hear me ask you this - please don't leave me now." Vachon sat ther a long while with her, then finally stood up and went in search of a doctor to tell him what her condition was. As he left, one of the wires he had marvelled at, disturbed at all this movement and not connected all that securely anyway, disconnected and fell slightly. At the nurses' station, a red light went off as Tracy's monitor showed her, dead. She called the doctor, and the emergency team rushed in. "Frank, what's the rush? Who is it?" The older doctor jogged alongside the new one as they went to Tracy's room. "The commissioner's daughter, the one who got shot, just went flatline." Adam stopped, letting the other doctor turn into the room, and went to call Natalie to let her know. "Poor girl, losing her friends one by one..." =-=-=-= Across town, Natalie heard the news, thanked her friend, and had herself a small cry, then went over to the loft to wait for Nick and let him know. She left her purse, and her cellular, forgotten on the table. =-=-=-= Vachon came back to Tracy's room in time to hear the last of the emergency team muttering. "...stupid wire. When I find out who hooked that up and didn't check it..." He sauntered into her room, to sit with her. An hour before sunrise, she regained conciousness. "Javier..." =-=-=-= As Tracy woke to her new life sometime later, an old one - much older - was leaving the loft. Natalie laid on the floor, unable to move, struggling to stay alive. Nick laid next to her, unconcious. The sun rose, and with it, four lives fought to understand the changes that had been wrought. -fini (for now.)