Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Am I boring you, Detective?”

Don Schanke startled awake with a snort. He looked up to find Amanda Cohen standing over him, frowning, hands on her hips. He glanced at the room of detectives surrounding him, some trying to stifle a laugh, others not even caring if he heard them or not. Beside him his own partner stared straight ahead, apparently unwilling to engage in any defense of the person who put his life on the line for him every single day.

Cohen seemed to be waiting for a response. The projection screen ahead displayed a confusing series of graphs and pie charts, all apparently related somehow to the budget. “Well, now that you mention it, Captain.” Schanke smiled weakly.

Cohen turned on her heel and stalked towards the front of the conference room. “Meeting dismissed,” she announced to the group. “Detective Schanke, I’ll see you in my office.”

Schanke groaned as he rose from his seat. “Thanks a lot, buddy,” he hissed to the man standing next to him. A steady stream of officers passed by them on their way out the door, and every one of them had something to say in passing.

“Schanke,” Nick returned, exasperated. “I nudged you three times. Three! Nothing. You were out cold. And you were snoring,” he added.

“I was snoring?”

“Quite loudly.” Nick confirmed, suppressing a smile. “I’m surprised Cohen kept talking as long as she did.”

“Well, it is boring. At least she had that right,” Schanke retorted.

“I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes,” Nick reflected. “Tightening the budget is never popular. We can at least lend her our support when we can.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Asskisser.” Schanke looked at his watch. “Look, Nick, I really need to get out of here early tonight. I’m going to take off after I finish with Cohen. Will you sign me out when you leave?”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Leaving early, Schank? After the lecture we just got about the need to tighten our belts?”

Schanke huffed. “Says the man who spends half his time at the Raven, following up leads.” He punctuated his comment with air quotes. “The man I cover for on a regular basis.”

“Okay, okay,” Nick responded. Schanke wasn’t wrong. Although most of his detours to the Raven were on police business--at least the ones that occurred while he was on duty. And a fair number of them did ultimately help with whatever case he was working on at the time. “I’ll sign you out. Do you have the Henderson report done yet?”

“It’s on my desk. And it’s done—well, almost done. Do you think you could polish that off for me before you go?”

Nick sighed and looked closely at his partner. “Is everything okay, Schank?”

“Everything is fine, Nick, just fine. Look, if you don’t want to do the report, just say so. I’ll do it myself!”

“I’ll do the report. And I’ll sign you out when I leave.” Nick confirmed. “Go. Do whatever it is you need to do. Just be careful.”

“Don’t worry. Cohen won’t suspect a thing.” Schanke slapped his partner on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy, I’ll see you tonight.”

Nick shook his head as he watched Schanke make his way through the busy bullpen area towards Amanda Cohen’s office.

***

She probably should feel guilty, but she didn’t. Natalie Lambert eased her car into the open spot and killed the engine. She had left downtown early for a meeting with her counterpart in the Mississauga Coroner’s Office, only to find that for once the traffic on the Gardiner was virtually non-existent. Hell, she deserved a break every now and then. And a quick detour to the mall was just what she needed right now.

She had considered being completely self-indulgent and finding some green space nearby and spending an hour in the sun. She got to spend so little time in the sun, and it was a beautiful day, but that was a bit much. No, she would content herself with picking up a few necessities at the mall before heading on to her meeting. The time saved today would be a godsend to her weekend. And as long as she grabbed a few work-related items as well, she was justified in remaining on the clock. Natalie grinned; problem solved.

Natalie glanced at her watch. Shopping in the middle of a weekday was turning out to be a breeze as well. She’d have to remember to do this more often. She had just one more item to pick up, and she still had time to catch a quick bite before heading on to her meeting. Amazing.

She glanced over at the entrance to the jewelry store. She shouldn’t, she wouldn’t. It was an exercise in self-torture to look when there was no way on this earth she could afford any of the items kept carefully under lock and key in the glass display cabinets. She sighed, one of these days her salary would cover more than the necessities, but not today. Her gaze wandered on to the figure standing motionless outside the store. There was something vaguely familiar about him… “Schanke?”

Natalie quickly made her way to the entrance to the jewelry store. “Don Schanke?”

“Natalie! Natalie, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? I’m shopping. That’s what you do in a mall. What are you doing here?” She looked the man in front of her up and down. He was wearing a tired-looking blue uniform, straining slightly at the midsection. A utility belt and circular cap finished off the uniform. “Are you a mall cop?” she blurted.

Schanke looked quickly at the surrounding area. “Shhh,” he hushed her. “Keep your voice down.” Don looked at his watch. “Look, I get a break in twenty minutes. I’ll meet you downstairs at the Timmie’s in the Food Court then.”

“Twenty minutes. In the Food Court,” she repeated, tapping her watch face. She pressed her index finger into his chest. “Do not disappear on me!” she insisted. “I will find you.”

“Here,” Natalie slid the Styrofoam cup in Schanke’s direction as he settled into the seat across from her. I got you a dark roast, I figured you needed all the caffeine you could get.”

“Thanks, Nat. You’re a lifesaver. Just what the doctor ordered.”

“Tell me I didn’t screw something up,” she whispered. “Nick hasn’t said a word about an undercover operation.”

Schanke sat back, considering. He looked around the food court of the mall. Moms and babies, the occasional salesclerk on a break. Overall, a thoroughly boring place. Hard to find much in the way of action here. Still, you never know. Hell, it was worth a try.

“Would you believe me if I said that’s exactly what’s going on here?” he asked in a heated whisper. “That I’m here staking out the jewelry store for possible leads into a robbery ring?”

“Ah, no,” she responded. “A little too obvious. And a little too close to the precinct. I can’t be the only one who might randomly come here on a day off. Bad guys shop too, you know. Not much of a cover. So, spill.” Natalie leaned more closely into the table. “What’s really going on here?”

Schanke sighed and leaned back against the seat. Taking a big swallow of coffee, he yielded to the inevitable. Natalie could be a formidable investigator in her own right, there was no way he was getting out of this one.

“Okay, okay. The truth of the matter is that I’m moonlighting. A buddy of mine runs security here at the mall. He needed some help; I needed the money. And it’s all under the table too,” he confided. “It’s a match made in heaven.”

“Moonlighting? You mean you’re doing this mall cop thing in addition to your shifts at the department? Staying up all day then working all night too?” Natalie shook her head. “I don’t know Don, that doesn’t sound like a very good idea to me.

Schanke shrugged. “I get an hour or so in the car before the mall opens. Then another couple of hours before my shift at the station. Depending on what’s going on with Jenny of course. It’s enough,” he continued, more to convince himself than the woman sitting across from him. “Heck, I used to pull 24-hour shifts all the time when I was just out of the academy. A few hours’ sleep here and there is enough. I don’t need that much.”

Natalie reached out and covered his hand with her own. “Don, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not 25 anymore. None of us are. This is just not a good idea, not health-wise, and it’s certainly not good career-wise. There are rules against it for a reason. What does Myra have to say about this?”

Schanke squirmed in his seat. Natalie had him there. Myra was not happy about this at all. Still, he hadn’t had much of a choice, especially since the department started clamping down on the OT. He took another swallow of his coffee and helped himself to the box of Timbits sitting between the two of them.

“What is it you’re not telling me, Schank?

“I’m doing this because of Myra.”

“Myra?” That was not the answer Natalie was expecting. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” He read the alarm on his companion’s face and moved to reassure her. “She’s fine. Nothing wrong health-wise, or anything.”

“Then what?” Natalie pressed.

“It’s not so much Myra. And no, she is not happy about this, not at all, but it’s Myra’s father. You remember that Myra’s mother died last year?”

Natalie nodded in assent. “I remember it was a tough time for all of you.”

“Well, Myra’s dad has gone right over the edge.” Schanke made a falling motion with his hand and slapped the surface of the dining table.

“They say men can have a harder time adjusting after the death of a spouse,” Natalie reflected. “I’m sure it’s tough on Myra being an only child.”

“It’s a little more than that,” Schanke continued. Turns out ‘Dad’ used to have a big-time gambling problem. With the emphasis on the used to—at least until Abigail passed.” He shook his head. “Without her to rein him in, he’d racked up a ton of debt before we had any idea what was going on. Turns out the guy likes betting the ponies a little too much.” Not to mention the casinos and the backroom poker games.

“That’s awful, Don. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought we could get on top of it. We took out some money against the house and put off buying that new car we were looking at. Myra took a job on top of her Skin Pretty stuff. We paid off his credit cards, only to find out he was into it for about 100k with the leg breakers too.”

“No!” Natalie exclaimed. “Loan sharks? Seriously? I thought that was only on television!”

“Oh, they’re real, believe me,” Schanke confirmed. “Fortunately, I still have some buddies who work bunco. They were able to cool things off and negotiate a more ‘reasonable’ interest rate with the Constantines. Another two or three years of this and we’ll be in the clear.”

“Two or three years!” Natalie exclaimed. “You don’t look like you are going to last the week.” She paused. She knew what she was about to say would fall on deaf ears, but she needed to say it anyway. “You need to go to the police.”

“The police? I am the police, Natalie. There’s only one way out of this mess and it’s to get these guys their money. Trust me.” Schanke glanced at his watch. “Look, I gotta go. The manager of that jewelry store is worse than Cohen on a tear.”

Schanke leaned in and looked at her intently. “I need you to promise me that you won’t breathe a word of this. I’m breaking more regulations than you can shake a stick at. This cannot get back to the department. Maybe Stonetree would have looked the other way, but Cohen won’t. And to be crystal clear, that includes not telling. Nick. I don’t want to drag him into this. This is our secret. I want your word on that, Natalie.”

It went against every instinct she had. And why did everyone seem to think she was so damn trustworthy anyway? She sighed. “Okay, Don. I’ll keep your secret, at least for now. But you have to promise me you’ll come to me if things start to go downhill.

Schanke mumbled a reply and was off to the escalator. So much for her time to herself.

****

Nick settled back into his desk chair. There was something he was missing in the Henderson case, and he just couldn’t put his finger on it. There was no sign of a break-in, there was nothing missing, but nothing else made sense. Mr. Henderson was still very dead with a small caliber gunshot wound to the back of his head. He was usually pretty good at putting the pieces together, but something wasn’t adding up.

Maybe Schanke would have some insight. Nick glanced at the precinct clock. Schanke was late. It was the third time this week and if Cohen noticed there would be trouble. And the last thing Schanke needed was any additional hassles at work.

“Speak of the devil.” Nick looked pointedly at the clock as Don Schanke slid into the opposing desk chair. “I was just wondering if I needed to put out an APB on you.”

Schanke didn’t crack a smile. “Very funny, coming from the guy who seems to disappear into thin air at the drop of a hat. The guy who I have actually had to put an APB out on, I might add!”

Nick grimaced. Not the way he wanted to start the evening. “I was just reviewing the reports on the Henderson case,” he responded calmly, “and it’s just not adding up. I was wondering what your thoughts were. You spent time interviewing the wife, did you get any sense that there were problems?”

“Not really,” Schanke shrugged. “She wasn’t exactly devastated at the loss, but that tracks with the impending divorce. And she had an alibi for the time that the shooting went down.”

“Maybe those security tapes will give us something,” Nick suggested. “Did you drop them off at the video lab?”

“The tapes,” Schanke mumbled, running his fingers through his thinning hair. He had forgotten completely. Not only had he not dropped them off--he had totally forgotten to pick them up in the first place. Jesus, he really was losing it.

“The tapes,” Nick repeated. “You did get them?”

Schanke slammed the file folder down on his desk. “No, I did not! Can you tell me why it is always my job to do all the legwork, cause let me tell you, I’m getting tired of it!”

“The apartment rental office is only open from nine to five. I can’t--you said you’d take care of it.”

“That’s another thing. I am sick and tired of being your daytime gofer! Don’t you think I have a life of my own? That I might have other things to do during the day rather than run all over town chasing things down for you? That needs to end right now!” Schanke slammed his desk drawer shut and stared across the desk at his partner.

Nick sat in stunned silence. Slowly he rose from his desk and grabbed his jacket from the nearby coat rack. “I need to go.”

*****

Natalie hummed to herself as she dropped the liver into the overhanging scale and noted the weight. Whatever the as-yet undetermined cause of death was for this fellow, he went out with his liver in a pristine condition. At least she could cross excessive alcohol consumption off the list of contributing factors for the cause of death. In fact, the man before her looked remarkably healthy for one of her usual customers. Except of course for the fact that he was dead.

“Hey.”

Natalie answered without turning around. “I might be the fastest coroner in the North, but I don’t have the new guy even prepped yet. It will be a while before I can give you a preliminary.”

“I know,” Nick stepped into the room. The outline of his black duster was a harsh contrast to the florescent glare of the morgue lighting. “I just needed to get away from the station, get a little space.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Natalie snapped off her gloves and killed the small recorder resting on the side of the autopsy table. Her latest customer was in front of her, laid out in the usual fashion. His chest and abdomen were sliced open in the classic Y formation for examination, a light sheet provided an illusion of modesty. Unfortunately for her, he was only one of several autopsies she still needed to get through tonight, this was really not the best time for a long philosophical discussion with Nick.

Nick leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms in front of him. “Schanke just completely unloaded on me. Claimed I don’t pull my weight. Said he was tired of having to do all the follow-up on day shift.”

“That doesn’t sound like Schank.” Natalie turned and looked over her shoulder at him. “What did you say?”

“What could I say?” he shrugged. “He’s not wrong. There’s just not a whole lot I can do about it, especially this time of year. The sun wasn’t down until almost 8 o’ clock tonight.”

Natalie stopped what she was doing and turned to face Nick. It was hard enough to be trapped inside all day without having it thrown in your face. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. “Does he seem okay to you, Schanke, I mean? He seems a bit, I don’t know, off? He’s certainly more short-tempered than usual.”

“I can’t say I’ve noticed,” Natalie responded. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re his friend. You’ve known him longer than I have,” Nick smiled. “You’re a sympathetic ear. I thought maybe if something was wrong, he might be more likely to confide in you.”

“Nope,” Natalie busied herself once again with the patient in front of her. “No, he hasn’t said a thing. Not to me.”

“You are a terrible liar.”

Nick said it in a monotone which definitely caught her attention. He was looking strangely at her as well, as if he were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together but couldn’t quite manage to make them fit. Nick swiftly moved towards her causing her to step back towards the far edge of the autopsy table.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he repeated. “How is it that I’ve never noticed?” Nick took another step closer to Natalie. “You know something,” he said with certainty. “Your heartrate just shot up twenty beats and now your pupils are dilated too.”

“Is that how you know when suspects are lying to you?” she asked, looking to deflect the direction this was taking. She continued to backpedal to the far side of the autopsy table.

“Sometimes,” he continued slowly moving closer to her. “Sometimes I just tickle them.”

“Tickle them?” Natalie returned, her eyes widening. “Oh no. No, no.”

“Oh, yes,” he responded. “You know that little spot right below your rib cage.” Nick reached out as if to touch her in that very spot and she squealed in response.

“Is everything all right in here?” Grace Balthazar’s generous form filled the entryway into the autopsy room. She looked intently over the frame of her readers at the duo in front of her.

“Hi, Grace,” Nick replied, a cherubic grin on his face. “Everything’s great. How are you doing tonight?”

“I’m good, Detective. Thank you for asking.”

Natalie shot him a disgusted look. “Everything is not fine. Detective Knight is attempting to question me in a manner not approved by the Geneva Convention,” she stated. On Grace’s confused look she clarified. “He was trying to tickle me.”

“In that case,” Grace moved to the open doorway, retreating towards the hallway beyond. “I’ll leave you to it. Just don’t make me come back in here,” she warned. With that she pulled the door closed behind her.

“Grace,” Natalie called after her now-departed colleague.

“I suppose it would be rather hypocritical of me to fault you for keeping someone else’s secret, now wouldn’t it?” The playful gleam had left Nick’s eyes, a more serious concern had settled in its place.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “It would be.”

“I just worry. He has something on his mind, and for once, he’s keeping quiet about it.”

“I know you care.” Nick and Schanke certainly had their ups and downs over the two years of their partnership, but Natalie was reminded of how important this relationship was to both men. She sometimes thought that Nick’s friendship with Schanke had brought him closer to his dream of humanity than anything she had managed come up with. “It’s going to be okay,” she reassured him.

“I’m sure it will,” Nick responded. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I should be heading back to the lion’s den.” He kissed her lightly on the top of her forehead. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“I will. And Nick, thanks for not pushing it.”

******

Natalie Lambert crossed the bullpen of the 96th precinct with a purposeful step. She spotted the reason for her visit, sitting at his desk, resting with his head back. She almost hated to bother him. “Hi, Schank.”

Schanke pried open an eye as Natalie slid into the seat across from him. “Nick’s not here yet.”

“I know,” she responded. “It’s early for him. I was hoping to catch you before he got in.” As miserable as the late sunset was for Nick, it was something she was willing to exploit to her advantage when the opportunity presented itself. “Although shouldn’t you be sleeping too, considering…”

“Cohen tacked two hours on to my shift,” he explained. “Claims I have a ‘chronic tardiness issue’. I think she has a chronograph ticking inside that chest of hers instead of a heart.”

“You do look awful,” she observed. So much for his ability to catch a nap before the start of his shift. “Anyway, I was hoping we could talk—privately.”

Schanke sighed. He knew that Natalie had let this debt thing go a little too easily the other day. He was crazy to have mentioned it at all. And he had no doubt that his partner had gone running straight to the morgue after their little spat. Nick had returned, cordial but distant. He’d have preferred it if Nick had just asked him to take it outside to the parking lot. Hitting something or someone would feel pretty good about now.

“Interrogation 3 is empty,” Schanke informed her, slowly rising to his feet. He grabbed his coffee off the desk and headed down the hall. “Might as well get this over with.”

Schanke pulled the door shut behind them and flopped into the seat generally reserved for the condemned. He took a sip from the coffee he was holding. “Before you say anything,” he said to Natalie, “the answer is no.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” she protested. Largely because she wasn’t quite sure herself how she was going to approach this. She hadn’t even spoken to Nick, but she felt pretty confident that he would agree with the offer she had planned to make.

“Sure I do. You’re going to tell me that Nick wouldn’t want me to suffer like this. That he’d be happy to lend me the money to pay off the wiseguys. Hell, he’d probably just give it to me, isn’t that what you were going to say?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I didn’t…” Natalie fumbled. This was not how she had envisioned this conversation going. Not at all.

“Sure you do. Nick’s rolling in dough, and you know it,” he insisted. “And I know it too. He might be tight with a loonie, and God forbid he split a lottery ticket with his partner, but you and I both know that Nicholas B. Knight is loaded.”

“Come on Schanke,” Natalie argued. “I’ll admit that he’s…comfortable. That he’s made some good investments along the way, but I think you’re overstating it just a bit.”

“Oh, really? Like I didn’t know he was really bidding on that damn harp from the Kushner estate. Or what about the dough he was pretending to donate to that Luminology cult?” Schanke snorted. “A friendly banker moved the money from his savings account to his checking my ass.”

“Both of those had to do with a case and you know it. The department finance people set that up.”

“Yeah, right. And I suppose that’s why Charles Du Champs had Nick’s number on speed dial, too?” he asked. “Listed only as ‘Nicholas’ I might add. I spotted it when we were going through the old man’s records.”

“Charles Du Champs had Nick on speed dial?” Natalie questioned. That was information, even for her. Nick had confided that he had a business relationship with Maison du Champs, but from what she knew that was as far as it went. Apparently the two were far closer than he’d disclosed to her.

“Don’t worry. I scrubbed it from the records. That sort of thing could have come back to bite him in the ass if it surfaced during the trial,” Schanke stated. “And let’s not even talk about all that stuff in the loft. Who the hell has a grand piano in their apartment anyway? Look, I know you and Nick both think I’m some kind of schlub,” he ventured, “but I am a detective. I can still put two and two together. And all this adds up to a number bigger than four. A lot bigger!”

Natalie finally found something she could dispute. “That is not true! I don’t think that, and I know for a fact that Nick doesn’t either. He just needs to be cautious. He doesn’t like to call attention to how—fortunate—he is.”

“The fact of the matter is that my partner probably has more money than God. And I don’t care if it comes from some family connection he wants to keep secret,” Schanke scrambled, “or, I don’t know, if he robbed the Bank of England!” Schanke threw up his hands.

“I think it was France,” Natalie mumbled, looking away.

“The point here is that I don’t want Nick’s money.” Schanke stood and began pacing the room. It’s not like he hadn’t considered this solution himself. It was so tempting to just do as Natalie suggested. But no, he had decided against asking Nick. “I just don’t want Nick’s money. Not as a loan, not as a gift. Nada.”

“Now you’re not making any sense, Don. Why not ask Nick?” she reasoned. “It would be a hell of a lot safer than owing it to criminals! Better for you, better for Myra and Jenny.”

“And give him one more thing to hang over me? One more thing to make me feel invisible around him? Nick doesn’t even have to do anything! He just walks into a room and suddenly every eye is on him--he sucks the air right out of the room.” Schanke stared intently at her. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, Natalie.”

Unfortunately, she knew exactly what he was referring to. It was hard enough for her to watch a steady parade of women gravitate towards Nick, it must be pretty tough on the ego to partner with him as well. “He doesn’t mean for it to happen,” she said with quiet certainty. “It just…does. Sometimes I think it’s his curse.”

Schanke finally plopped back into the seat across from her and yawned deeply. His eyes were already heavy with fatigue and his night had barely begun. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I love the guy, really, I do. It’s just not always that easy to like him.”

A soft knock at the Interrogation room door cut off Natalie’s response as the object of their discussion stepped through the doorway. Nick’s attention shifted warily from Natalie to Schanke, then settled back on Natalie. “Lipinski said you two were in here. Is everything all right?”

“Nick,” Natalie announced, looking at her watch. “Wow. Is it that time already?”

“We were just catching up, buddy,” Schanke chimed in. “Everything is right as rain. Nothing to see here.”

Their demeanor left little doubt in Nick’s mind that he had been the subject of their conversation. In any number of previous lives, the slightest inkling of suspicion would have been cause for concern. But no, he refused to believe Natalie would ever even contemplate such a betrayal. His faith in her, in both of them really, was absolute. “Well, when you’re done, Cohen has something she’d like us to check out on the McNamara case.

“Isn’t that Rosen and Franklin’s investigation?” Schanke questioned.

“It is,” Nick confirmed. “They’re tied up. And since we’ve stalled out on the Henderson matter, Cohen volunteered us. A tip was called in by one of their informants that a suspect was seen entering an abandoned factory down by the lake. Cohen wants us to go in and take a look.”

Schanke took a deep swallow of his coffee, then hefted himself out of his seat with a stifled groan. “Whenever you’re ready, partner. We’re all done here. Aren’t we, Natalie?”

Nick inclined his head towards Natalie in a questioning glance. The only thing he received in return was a shrug and a weak smile. Something was up and he had a feeling that nothing would be the same until he got to the bottom of whatever it was.

*****

The Caddy rolled to a stop on the damp, broken pavement. It had been raining off and on all evening, but the rain had stopped, and Nick could see the dim outline of a quarter moon trying to break through. Nick looked up at their intended destination. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that Rosen and Franklin had set this whole thing up as a practical joke to get back at Schanke for his campaign to win the Partners of the Month plaque. Schanke had been vocal, and not very complimentary, about the pair’s work ethic.

The building looked deserted, even to his practiced eye. He could see no evidence of its intended purpose—Schanke mentioned it had once been a factory that made machine parts. Apparently, it had been shuttered for over a decade. Still, he would have expected some indication of recent trespass had the building been used for any purpose, intended or otherwise.

Nick glanced over at his partner, resting in the passenger seat beside him. Schanke had been largely silent during the journey over to the deserted building. He never thought he’d miss the non-stop narrative which usually accompanied their car rides together, but lately there had been less and less exposition, and a lot more sleeping. Nick looked back at the doorway to the factory. It would be easier to go in alone. He could be in and back out in no time. But that was not how partners were supposed to behave, he reminded himself. And if Schanke ever woke up and found him gone, he’d never hear the end of it.

“Schanke,” Nick reached over and shook his sleeping partner’s arm. “We’re here.”

Schanke startled awake, momentarily confused by his surroundings.

“We’re at the factory,” Nick informed him, “the one for machine parts. Rosen and Franklin’s tip, remember?”

Don wiped the sleep from his eyes. He’d been having the craziest dream. Schanke saw Nick staring at him from the other side of the car. Was that actual concern on his face? “Yeah, yeah,” he answered. “I remember.”

“Looks like it maybe a false alarm, or a prank. It could be Rosen’s handiwork,” Nick suggested. “I can do this alone.”

Wouldn’t dream of it,” Schanke replied, reaching for the door handle. “I was just resting my eyes. And if it was them, they’ll be hell to pay, let me tell you.” He stepped outside the car. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he grabbed the side of the Caddy for support.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nick asked. His partner did not look well. A gray cast had come over his face and Nick could hear Schanke’s heart beating irregularly. “Why don’t you sit this one out?”

“I said I’m fine,” Schanke insisted. “I just stood up too quickly.” He slammed the car door shut and headed for the door of the deserted building.

Nick was hoping that they would find the door locked up tight, and he had no intention of facilitating an entry into the building. Unfortunately, Schanke reached the door first and it swung open easily at his partner’s first attempt.

The pair stepped into the entryway of what apparently had been a machine shop, currently in a state of profound disrepair. The estimate that the factory had been closed for the better part of a decade seemed about right to Nick. A heavy layer of dust and cobwebs covered most of the derelict machinery. Ahead of them stretched several long passageways, all littered with machinery long past its intended usefulness.

“This place is creepy as all get out,” Schanke offered quietly. “What is it we’re supposed to be looking for here, Nick?”

“Supposedly a suspect in the McNamara homicide from last year,” Nick responded. “Although why anyone would have come here, now, is beyond me. Let’s take a quick look around and get out of here.”

“Ouch!” Schanke had turned and walked straight into a discarded piece of machinery which was protruding into the corridor. “Dammit.” He sat on the edge of a crate and rubbed his shin vigorously. Now he was probably going to need a tetanus shot. That was the last thing he needed. Schanke sighed, exasperated. “I forgot a flashlight.”

“Here,” Nick handed him the one he was carrying. The cavernous room was dark, but there was a small amount of light coming through the skylights. “I think I saw a light switch on the wall. The power’s probably out, but I’ll give it a try.”

Nick walked back to the door and turned the switch to the lights. To his surprise, the lights flickered, then powered on sending a hazy yellow glow throughout the factory floor. In the wall, he could hear the skittering of rodents. Aside from that he could only hear his partner, breathing heavily despite the fact he hadn’t moved from the crate. “Why don’t I take a quick look around,” he offered. “You stay here and nurse your wounds. I’ll be back in no time, then we can head back to the station.”

“Will you stop!” Schanke uttered through gritted teeth. “We both know you’re Joe Cool, and you could probably take a lap around this entire place without ever breaking a sweat, but I don’t need you coddling me. I’m here to do my job, same as you.” With that he stood abruptly and pointed to one of the lengthy aisles. “Why don’t you go that way, I’ll go this way,” he indicated. “We’ll meet in the middle.” Schanke flashed the light up to the second level. There was a catwalk and what looked to be empty office space. “I suppose we should take a quick look up there as well. If we come up with nothing, we’ll call it a night.”

“Okay, sorry,” Nick responded. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It just seems like a waste of effort, but we’ll do it your way.” With that he headed off towards the passageway Schanke had indicated. He walked with a measured pace, carefully keeping parallel with his partner in the adjoining aisle. He could catch glimpses of Schanke, moving slowly but methodically along. He was going to have to have another conversation with Natalie about whatever the hell was going on. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, he just knew something wasn’t right.

They reached the end of their respective aisles in tandem. “Nothing,” Schanke concluded. “Why don’t we take a quick look upstairs then head back to the car. We can tell Cohen she just wasted a couple of hours of taxpayer money. That should make her night!”

“Sounds good to me,” Nick responded, trailing his partner back along the aisle towards the stairs. Suddenly, he heard a noise from somewhere behind him--a distinctive metallic click, followed by what could only be the intake of a human breath. How the hell had he missed that? Nick turned to look over his shoulder. 50 feet back, behind a piece of equipment, he could see the barrel of a long gun pointed directly at them, the dark metal reflecting the amber glow from the overhead lights.

“Schanke, down!” he shouted. Nick barreled into the back of his partner and threw him to the floor. Behind him, Nick heard a round go off just as his chest exploded.

Nick lay face first against the cold concrete floor of the factory. He could hear the footsteps of the shooter retreating from the scene and exiting the building, he just couldn’t do anything about it or even bring himself to care. This was a bad one. He could feel the blood seeping out of the exit wound in his chest, turning the surface beneath him into a crimson pool.

He’d suffered devastating injuries before, some delivered at the hands of LaCroix, some from the actions of others. The bomb blast that had landed him on Natalie’s autopsy table had been the real beginning of his life here in Toronto. If he didn’t keep his wits about him, this could be the event that brought that life full circle. He shook off the thought. He was not ready for this persona as Nick Knight, homicide cop, to end. “Schanke,” he called over to his partner who was crumpled on the ground a short distance away. He could hear the cadence of Schanke’s heartrate, rapid and irregular. Nick was fairly certain that Schanke hadn’t taken a hit, but he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t responding.

“Schanke,” he called more loudly, the weak timbre of his own voice surprising him. “Can you hear me?”

Don Schanke groaned then scrambled to a kneeling position. He felt like he’d been hit by one of the drill presses, one of the big ones. He looked frantically around him for his service weapon, only to find it was a good 20 feet away lying against one of the pieces of equipment. Damn. What the hell had happened, anyway? He remembered being pushed down by Nick, then shots being fired, then nothing. He tentatively reached for the side of his head to find a large knot developing.

He looked around in the dim light of the factory floor and spotted the still form of his partner, lying spread-eagle on the ground across from him. Schanke felt his heart clench. “Knight.” He scooted across the floor, mindful that whoever had shot at them could still be around. “Jesus!” Nick was faced down; a bullet wound in the center of his back. Carefully he turned his partner over so that he was facing upwards. The center of Nick’s pale colored shirt was a crater of blood. The outline of blood beneath him indicated to Schanke that he was looking at a very large exit wound. “Please, God,” he muttered, reaching to feel for a carotid pulse, knowing full well he would find nothing. The catastrophic injuries Nick had sustained were clearly not survivable.

Schanke pressed his fingers against Nick’s throat. Knight was cold already. How long had he been out anyway? Suddenly Nick’s eyelids fluttered and opened. Two golden eyes stared back at him. “Nick?”

“Schanke,” Nick whispered. “It’s okay.”

“What do you mean, it’s okay?” Schanke yelled. How the guy in front of him was even talking was beyond him. “There is nothing remotely okay about any of this! You stay as still as you can, I’m going to run out to the car and call this in.”

“No!” Nick stated as firmly as he could. He struggled to dig his elbows into the floor and prop himself up. Something was horrifically wrong with his legs; he could barely manage to move them at all. “You cannot call this in.” He attempted to push the thought to Schanke but knew that his hypnotic abilities were failing him as well. “You absolutely cannot call this in. No cops, no ambulance!” he stated firmly. “But I do need your help.”

“You need a hellava lot more help than I can give you Nick! Jesus. What do you mean, don’t call this in? There’s nothing I can do for you here alone!”

At least they were alone, and that was a blessing. The isolation of the area and the hour of the night almost guaranteed that no one would be calling in a report of shots being fired. He had time to pull this off. He just needed to get out of there as quickly as possible, and for that to happen, he was going to have to rely on his friend. Nick maneuvered himself into a full sitting position; his legs were starting to tingle, which he took as a positive sign. He could already feel his body beginning the process of regenerating, and with it came the gnawing hunger, the urge to replenish what he had lost and to support what he required to heal. He had reabsorbed some of what he had lost, but he'd need a lot more to recover. “Schanke,” he repeated. “I need you to help me. I have to get to the car, and I don’t think I can walk, at least not by myself.”

“Walk, Nick?” Schanke exclaimed. “Are you absolutely out of your mind? You’re not walking anywhere, anytime soon. And I am going to go and call this in.”

“No,” Nick insisted. He reached an arm up to his partner. “Just grab hold of my arm. I think I can support at least some of my weight. We have to get to the car, and then I need you to drive me to the loft. This will be fine, I promise you.”

For reasons he could never have explained to anyone, Schanke found himself helping Knight into a standing position. He could feel Nick get his legs planted beneath him, taking on some of the weight. The shirt he wore was completely saturated on both sides with drying blood. At least the shirt kept the gaping wound in Nick’s chest from being quite as visible as it had been when he was flat. Nick’s eyes…they continued to radiate a golden color—this was no trick of the factory’s halogen lighting. “Nick,” he said hesitantly, “your eyes…”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Nick stated. Somehow, he had managed to keep his fangs from descending, but that wouldn’t last much longer, not given the state he was in. “Let’s go. I’ll explain everything later.”

Slowly and with great difficulty, the pair made their way to the doorway. The door was swinging wide open--undoubtedly this was where the shooter had exited as well. Schanke managed to half-drag Nick the few remaining meters out to the car where he eased him against the back of the vehicle.

“Put me in the trunk,” Nick managed. “It will be better that way.”

“I am not putting you in the trunk,” Schanke insisted. “This situation is completely and totally out of control. I am most certainly not putting you into the trunk, and I am taking you to a hospital.”

If he rode in the close confines of the car with Schanke, only one of them would be making it to the loft. And that one would most definitely not be Donald G Schanke, not with the hunger that was continuing to build within him. Just standing next to Schanke, feeling the warmth emanating from his body and hearing Schanke’s frantically beating heart was becoming overwhelming. “I want you to put me in the trunk and then get me to the loft,” Nick said sharply. “Call Natalie. Tell her I’ve been injured, and she needs to come as soon as she possibly can and to bring supplies with her. She’ll know what to do.”

“Fine,” Schanke countered. He reached into Nick’s pants pocket and grabbed the keys to the car. Opening the trunk, he helped lift Nick into the wide opening then slammed the lid forcefully. Sliding into the driver’s side seat, Schanke gunned the engine of the aging Cadillac and peeled off into the dark. As he navigated the thankfully empty streets surrounding the industrial area, Schanke reached for the car phone and frantically dialed the number of the Coroner’s Office. He couldn’t believe he was actually going along with this ridiculous plan, he just prayed that Natalie could talk some sense into Nick.

*****

Nick was starting to get some movement back in his legs by the time the elevator deposited the pair into the loft. Still, he needed support to get across the room and get settled on to the large black leather couch. The need to replenish the blood lost in the shooting was growing urgent as time passed. He might need to get Schanke to just leave, although how he was going to manage that was a mystery.

“Bring me one of those wine bottles from the fridge.” Cow was not going to cut it, and he knew that, but that was his only option right now. Human blood would be essential for healing, vampire blood would be even better. Nick considered his options if Natalie was delayed. He could reach out to Janette. She would never deny him anything, but she would also not appreciate being caught up in all this mortal police drama. He only hoped that LaCroix had not sensed how gravely he was injured. If LaCroix became involved, this would not end well for any of them.

Schanke moved to the fridge without comment and pulled out one of the bottles inside. Maybe he was dreaming. A nightmare was the best explanation he could come up with at the moment. He’d been having some doozies lately, but seeing his partner nearly blown to bits, then hauling him around the city in his trunk was completely over the top. And now Nick was going to fix this with…red wine? He shook his head in confusion.

He headed back to the coach, bottle in hand, just as Natalie came bolting through the stairwell doorway. She spotted Nick, laying outstretched on the couch and rushed over to him her medical bag clutched to her chest. “What the hell happened?” she exclaimed. He was virtually covered in dried blood and his face was as drawn and pale as she’d ever seen it.

“Please tell me you have blood in there,” he responded with a tightened jaw.

Natalie reached into her bag and drew out one of the units she’d managed to snag from the morgue refrigerator. “Grace now officially thinks I’m a raving lunatic,” she stated as she tossed the blood into Nick’s waiting hands.

Nick tore the end of the bag off with his teeth and downed the entirety of it in one swallow. “Again,” he rasped out, calling for another unit. Natalie tossed him a second unit and watched as he consumed the second with only slightly less urgency than he did the first.

Finally, he paused, he nodded at her and Natalie moved to the couch. She sat down beside him and began to look closely, the blood covering his shirt was centered in the middle of his chest, the material virtually destroyed by the force of whatever had transpired. “I repeat the question—what the hell happened, Nick?”

He peeled open the third unit of red blood cells and began to drink it in a more measured manner. “I got shot.”

“That much I figured out,” Natalie replied. “With what, a howitzer?” She had seen Nick wounded in any variety of ways, but short of the bomb blast which had caused them to cross paths in the first place, nothing had done this kind of damage. She put her hands on each side of his shirt and pulled it, tearing what was left of it open as the buttons popped off. Beneath his shirt was a large irregular patch of granulating tissue. No matter how many times she had seen his incredible ability to heal, it never ceased to amaze her. “This was the exit wound, I assume?”

Nick nodded in affirmation. He had finished off the third unit of blood and his eyes had reverted to their usual blue color. “The shot came from behind me. I didn’t stick around to check the shell casings, but it was clearly high caliber, high velocity.” Nick shifted his weight on the couch. He could move more easily now, and the pain had begun to fade. “It caught me in the back—I could barely move my legs.”

Natalie finished pulling the shirt off his arm and gestured to him to turn towards her. “Turn this way, let me take a look.” The small circular area in the middle of Nick’s back was practically healed. In another 30 minutes it wouldn’t be visible at all. “You said you could barely move?” she confirmed. “My best guess, looking at the placement of the wound and the angle of entry, is that the bullet probably transected your spinal cord then demolished your right and left ventricles and sternum on its way out.” Natalie eased Nick back flat on the couch. “Even considering your unusual metabolism, I’d say you’re pretty lucky to be sitting here.”

“We were both lucky,” Nick agreed. “Schanke had to practically drag me to the car. Without him there, there’s no telling how long it would have taken me to heal enough to get out of there on my own.

Schanke.

Don Schanke had claimed one of the armchairs sitting adjacent to the couch. He still held the green bottle from the fridge, swirling it slowly by the neck. He sat silently as the scene before him unfolded. At least Natalie seemed to know what was going on. He wasn’t sure if that gave him comfort, or only added to his confusion, since absolutely none of this made any sense.

“This isn’t a nightmare,” he finally commented. “I’m not going to wake up at the precinct with Cohen standing over me, am I?”

It was Natalie who responded. “No, Don, it’s not. This is very real, I’m afraid. She rose from the couch and moved towards him. She noted a large bump on the side of Schanke’s head accompanied by a thin trickle of blood which had dried along the side of his face. “Are you okay? Do you want me to put something on that?”

Schanke ignored her outstretched hand. His eyes were fixed on his partner, still reclining on the sofa. “You’re not human,” he stated with certainty, his voice remarkably devoid of emotion. “Are you?”

Nick sighed. He had really hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “No, Schank, I’m not,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t matter right now. This is all going to be okay. I promise.”

“You promise?” Schanke responded, incredulous. He jumped to his feet. “How can you say that? How can you be okay? You should be dead. What the hell are you, anyway?”

“I’m afraid that needs to stay my secret, Don.” Nick pressed his will into his words. “Come to me. Come sit beside me,” he instructed, patting the couch surface beside him.

Slowly, reluctantly, Schanke made his way to the couch and eased his way down to sit next to Nick. “Listen to me closely, Don,” Nick intoned. “There was a shooting, but no one was hit. You spotted the gunman and knocked me to the ground before he fired.”

“Before he fired,” Schanke repeated.

“I got scraped up hitting the ground, that’s why you brought me here. You dove out of the line of fire and hit your head. The gunman got away.”

“He got away.”

“Now, you are going to go home and get some sleep,” Nick continued. “We can tie up any loose ends tomorrow night.” Nick broke off his gaze and saw the effect of his will evaporate.

Schanke shook his head. He didn’t remember getting to the loft, but here they were. Nick’s bloody shirt lay in a heap on the floor. Seeing his partner bare-chested was an event in itself, but the streaks of dried blood across Knight’s chest were a sobering reminder of what could have happened. “Wow, Nick. Talk about a lucky break! A couple of seconds either way and we could have both been toast!”

“It would have ended very differently if not for you, Schank,” Nick replied. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“No problem, buddy. That’s what friends are for.” Schanke stood, reaching his hand up to the side of his head. Now that the excitement was over, it was starting to throb.

“Do you want some ice for that, Don?” Natalie asked.

“Nah,” he responded, yawning. “I’m just going to head home, get some sleep.” For once he meant it. “I’ll check in with Cohen. Let her know we’re both out for the rest of the shift. We can deal with the rest tomorrow.”

“Take my car,” Natalie volunteered. “It’ll be easier to drive than Nick’s old boat. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Natalie ushered him to the elevator and slid the door shut behind him.

“I just wish,” she started, resting her head again the metal of the elevator door.

“That I told him the truth?” Nick finished it for her. “I thought about it,” he admitted. “Keeping a secret like mine is a terrible burden to place on someone else.” Nick smiled. “As you well know. And it doesn’t always turn out like you think it will. Trust me on that.” He sighed. “We may get there someday, but not today.”

Natalie came and joined Nick on the sofa. He was sitting upright now and looking far better than he had when she first entered the room. There was even a hint of color on his cheeks. She had a million things she needed to do back at the morgue. She had run out of there like the building was on fire. And she was also going to have to come up with a vaguely rational explanation for Grace. “I should be heading out as well. As long as you’re good?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he acknowledged, taking her hand in his. “Thanks to you.” There’d be a trip to the Raven later tonight, but Natalie didn’t need to know about that. Another secret. “Anything you’d like to tell me before you go?” he asked.

After everything that had happened, she wasn’t even sure what he was talking about. She looked at him questioningly. “Sorry?”

“Something is going on with Schanke. Something unrelated to tonight, but he’s off his game. He’s falling asleep the minute he isn’t actively engaged. He doesn’t seem…healthy. It’s not safe for him, or anyone that might be partnered up with him on an assignment. We got lucky tonight, but if I wasn’t a vampire, things would have turned out very differently,” Nick paused, thinking. “Is he sick or something?”

Natalie sighed. Nick wasn’t wrong. She’d been worried about Schanke since she first found out about his debt issue and the moonlighting. He was spreading himself way too thin—not a great idea when your profession put your life and the lives of others at risk. Still, she had promised her silence. “It’s not that,” she responded.

“I don’t want to pressure you, but I have a feeling that this is important. Maybe I can help?” he suggested.

“I hate this,” Natalie acknowledged, but she’d hate it even more if Schanke was fired from Metro, or if someone got hurt because of his secret. Holding on to it might not be worth the risk. “I found out about it because of a trip to the mall, of all things,” she began. Natalie filled Nick in with all the details she was aware of, finishing with Schanke’s debt to the loan sharks.

“That’s not what I was expecting,” Nick responded when she finished. “I was worried that he was ill. At least this is something that can be fixed.”

“Yes, well, before you go and offer him the money,” she warned. “I did that already. It seems that Schanke has figured out how well-off you are financially. He doesn’t want to take the money from you.”

“Really?” Nick responded. That was another unexpected curve. Maybe he had been underestimating Don Schanke more than he realized. He’d need to watch that. “I guess I can understand that. He has his pride. I can understand not wanting to be indebted to a friend, or a colleague.”

Natalie threw her hands up. “Men!” she exclaimed. It seems they were the same no matter what century they born in. “Well, I can’t understand it at all.” She rose from the couch and headed for the elevator. “But on that note, I’m going back to work. I leave this all in your very capable hands.”

Nick stood with her. “Natalie,” he said, “thank you. For all your help, and for letting me know about Schanke. I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“Just don’t make me regret it, Nick.”

Nick smiled. “You won’t,” he assured her. “Don’t worry.”

*******

Don Schanke strolled into the bullpen of the 96th precinct whistling softly. He couldn’t remember when he enjoyed a few days off quite so much. If nothing else, it was good to be able to spend some time with Myra and Jenny.

“Hey, buddy!” Schanke exclaimed as he came up behind his partner. “How’s the shoulder doing?”

Nick lifted his left hand and rubbed his right shoulder. “It’s good. Much better, thanks.”

Schanke’s eyes narrowed. “I thought it was the left shoulder?”

“Oh, yeah,” Nick responded, shifting his right hand on to the opposing shoulder. “That one is good too.” He smiled as Schanke slid into his chair. Schanke still had quite the bruise along the side of his head, but he looked well. “You look rested,” he acknowledged to his partner. “It seems like a few days off have done you a world of good.”

“I tell you, Nick. I slept like a baby for three days straight! I am a new man. I feel like the weight of the world is off my shoulders.” The first thing he had done when he woke up was to call his friend at the mall and quit. Nothing was worth the stress of juggling two lives.

“Really,” Nick responded. “That’s good to hear.”

Schanke practically giggled. “A clerical error! Can you believe it?" He could never explain it to his partner, but he still couldn’t get over the news that his father-in-law actually owed one hundred dollars and not one hundred thousand dollars. Apparently weak math skills had even infiltrated the ranks of organized crime. A misplaced decimal point had been the cause of all his problems. He sank back into his chair and put his hands behind his head. “You just never know, Knight, you just never know.”

Nick smiled. He had made good use of his time off as well. He had neglected his new younger sibling, Don Constantine, for far too long. It was nice to see him again. After all, what use was family if you couldn’t exploit them every now and then?

Amanda Cohen called from the open doorway of her office. “Knight, Schanke, in my office.”

The pair locked eyes over their desks, then rose in unison and headed to her office. “Close the door,” she instructed. “And have a seat.”

“Is everything all right, Captain?” Knight asked. “If this is about the Henderson case, we’re getting right back on it.”

“This is not about Henderson,” Cohen replied. “This, gentlemen, is a matter which needs to be held in the strictest confidence. Do you understand? None of what I’m about to say is to leave this office.”

Nick and Schanke exchanged glances. “No need to worry about us, Captain. Our lips are sealed,” Schanke assured her.

“The only reason you are being told about this is your inadvertent involvement in the shooting the other night.” Cohen straightened in her seat. “And for that, and my role in it, I apologize. I wasn’t looped in either.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Nick responded. “I’m afraid you’ve lost us.”

“This has to do with an Internal Affairs investigation into Franklin and Rosen. It seems that Detective Franklin is having an extra marital liaison with Detective Rosen’s wife.”

“What?” Schanke exploded. “You have got to be kidding me!”

“It seems the shooter may have been hired by one of the detectives in order to target the other. They were supposed to answer the call and be at the deserted factory. Details are still uncertain,” she continued. “But IA and the RCMP are confident that neither of you were the intended target. Until this matter is cleared,” Cohen went on, “both Franklin and Rosen have been placed on administrative leave. I hope I don’t have to impress on either one of you the need to keep this matter in the strictest confidence.”

Nick and Schanke looked at one another. “Don’t worry about a thing Captain. Your secret is safe with us.”

The End