Another Reality (01/16) 
By Jeannie Ecklund,  8-21-00

I'd like to thank Lorelei Sieja for beta correcting this story. It was
an honor to have her tackle my story and for the comments and
suggestions made by beta readers, CC, Margie, Elise and Betsy. It was
all very helpful in making this the best it can be.  Permission granted
to archive at Mel's fanfic site.  All others please
inquire.  A Nick, Nat romance, in another reality... No infringement of
any one rights intended. Kylie is posting this for me because I have a
Mac and it won't send the quotes correctly.

****Please send all your comments to me: Gersnightlady@cs.com****


Another Reality



The Coroner of Toronto, Nick Lambert, emptied a plate of half eaten
Birthday cake into a waste receptacle in his Autopsy room.

Don Schanke, his lab assistant, slapped him on the back. "Well Nicky old
boy, another year older.  When are you going to find that special woman?
You're not getting any younger."

Nick sighed and ran his hands through his curling blond hair.  Don had a
way of making him feel like life was passing him by.  "Thanks for the party,
Don..." he said, then added with a grin, "... and the red silk boxers."
What he would ever do with them was beyond him.

Schanke grinned at him.  "Those are to dazzle that special woman with."

"Right!  Go on, get out of here," Nick ordered. "Thanks again."

"Think nothing of it, pal.  Well, I guess I'd best do just that and get
on home. Myra's waiting and I always have to take two showers before I
touch her.  She hates it that I work on dead people."  He pulled off his lab
coat and flung it across the room.  He was out of the door before it hit his
desk chair and slid to the floor.

Nick sighed, went and picked the coat up and hung it on the chair.  He
looked around the room at his shinny equipment and autopsy tables.  He
was about to go get his long tan duster and go home when the door suddenly
burst open.  Grace Reese, an EMT, came into the room pushing a gurney before 
her. She was a big, honey brown woman.  She wore a white baseball hat turned
backwards on her head.  Her shirt was tucked into the black work pants,
accentuating her larger, full figured size.  She was one of Nick's favorite
people.  She always had a warm smile, laughing eyes and lots of funny things
to say even when things got rough.

"Still here, birthday boy?"  she asked.

Nick took in the body bag on the gurney and the generous amount of blood
that seemed to be pooled around the bag on the gurney.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Bomb victim.  A woman.  Witnesses said she seemed to fly into the
building. She grabbed a small boy, tossing him out the window to safety just
moments before a bomb went off."

"Bomb," Nick said, his heart flipping into his throat.  The messy ones
had been getting to him lately.  He had been wondering if Forensic Medicine
had been the best choice for his life's career.  The night shift seemed to
weigh heavily on him lately.  Schankee was right.  He needed to find someone
to love to share his life.  This was a very solitary, lonely life.

He went forward, grabbed the end of the body bag and Grace grabbed the
other.  They transferred it to the autopsy table.  The blood dripped
down the sides of the table.  She backed away, "I'm going to take the other
gurney down the hall. I'll let you clean this one up."

"Thanks Grace," Nick said dryly.

"Happy Birthday!" she said, turning away and making a fast retreat.

"Yeah Happy Birthday."  He called after her retreating derriere.  "Well
so much for a hot shower and bed," he muttered to himself.

He went to get some rubber gloves.  As he pulled one on the phone rang.
"Thank God, a reprieve," he whispered.

"Lambert here," he said into the phone, then listened. "Captain
Stonetree. Yes, Grace just brought her in.  No, not yet....I know.  I'm
prepared to work for a few more hours...."

Nick did not notice that the pooled blood suddenly went into motion.  It
collected together and ran back up the sides of the table and seemed to
be soaked up by the body bag like a sponge.

"...Thanks, Captain.  "0h yeah,  ....that's okay Cap, it's my job....no,
no plans, just me and the dog.  I'll let you know when I get some sort of
identifying marks or info. Bye."

He hung the phone up and walked toward the bag.  Unzipping it, he spread
the sides open and took a surprised gasp.  Inside was not the torn,
devastated face he had expected to see.  This face that he peered down into
was the face of an angel.  Porcelain white, dark long lashes lay against
flawless, alabaster skin.  A perfect nose and ruby red lips made her
beautiful beyond words.  Her face was framed by rich brunette hair in
thick wavy curls.

She was beautiful, her face marred only by smudges of ash.

He stared at her in confusion.  He looked around.  Was someone playing a
trick on him?  He reached out the hand that didn't have a glove yet and
touched the smooth skin.  It was soft and smooth and very cool.  No
living person was that cold.

He turned back to the phone to call Grace's cell phone. "Grace, are you
sure this is the right body?"  he asked when she answered.  "There's hardly
a mark on her."

Grace said, "You must be tired, Nick.  I could hardly tell it was a
woman. Put her on ice and go get some sleep. Bye."

Suddenly a movement caught Nick's attention.  "What the hell!" he
exclaimed, dropping the phone.  It clattered loudly against the wall.

The once dead patient was sitting up on the autopsy table looking
around. Piercing  amber eyes seemed to nail him to the wall, when her
eyes rested on his.

"You were dead," he accused her.

She glanced at him, pulled her legs out of the bag and swiveled, hopping
off the table.  Her cloths were a bit tattered and she drew the pieces of
blood stained cloth about her.  Her amber eyes scanned the room.  She
grabbed his tan duster and shrugged into it.

Nick could feel his heart beating in his throat but he managed to find
his voice.  "What are you?"  His voice came out in a strangled whisper.

The woman glanced at him, not detecting any fear, only excitement.
"Something very different from you," she said in a voice so sensual and
musical that it sang to his soul.

She turned away now and he found he was disappointed and afraid she
would go.  Yet he watched fascinated as she searched and found the blood
bags he had stored in the frig.  She turned again and glared at him.  He
noticed that there were two perfectly white pointed fangs resting
against her ruby lips.  She raised the blood bag and pierced it with the fangs
and drank until the bag was drained.  She did the same with two more bags of
blood. He noticed that her fingers were long and thin, the same porcelain
white as her face.  Her fingers where tipped with red pointed finger nails.

He found his strength and pushed himself away from the cold wall.  He
took a few steps forward. "What are you?" he asked again.

She met his gaze and said, "I am a vampire."  Her deep, sensual voice
made his knees weak.  She moved toward him.

"A vampire," he said, awed by her beauty.  He reached out to touch her
face.

She grabbed his hand, her fingers where like steel.  She turned his
wrist away and pressed the back of his hand against her face."

"You're so cold," he whispered.

"I'm dead," she said.

"No, you're not.  You're not dead.  I see death everyday.  Whatever you
are, it's not death."

She released his wrist and a long white finger reached toward him.  The
sharp nail tip came closer and closer.

He forced himself to remain still and stared bravely back at her.  She
deflected her nail and a smooth finger tip caressed his cheek and along
his jaw line.  His eyes closed and he suddenly felt her move closer.  Her
coolness complimented the heat that was now radiating from his body.
His senses felt on overload.

"What's happening?" he managed to whisper.

He felt her hand sliding along his jaw line down his neck and around to
come up and bury itself into his hair at the back of his neck.  Her cool
breasts where pressed against his chest.

He opened his eyes to find himself only inches from her face. Her eyes
now glowed red and he felt her drawing him closer, her white fangs dazzled
and fascinated him.  He felt her other hand on his chest.  His body quivered
with excitement and long buried passion.  She smelled of jasmine and rose.

Suddenly cool lips touched his.  Desire overwhelmed him and he slipped
his arms around her, holding her against him, crushing her lips with his.
His mind screamed at him.  "What are you doing?  She said she was a
Vampire!"

There was a tingle at the base of his brain.  He could feel it
spreading. His hand slipped back and into the glorious mane of rich auburn
hair.  He deepened the kiss.  Her cool tongue slipped between his lips. His
tongue danced with hers.  She tasted of copper, not of salt.

She drew away suddenly even as he fought to hold onto her.  Her fangs
scraped against his lips.  She nipped at his lip and drew it outward
before it slipped from her light grip.  She smiled, flashing the perfect
white fangs.  He felt the tip of her finger running along his jugular and
his body quivered with desire for this amazing creature.

There was a momentary pain and he felt the tip of the fingernail cut
into the skin on his neck.  Then a warm trickle of blood ran down his neck.
She had nicked his skin, but not deep enough to cut into the large vein.
She was pulling him forward again.  He closed his eyes and came into her
embrace.  He pushed the duster and the scraps of her clothing away from
her shoulder at the base of her neck and kissed the soft skin there.  He
trailed a bunch of soft kisses along her shoulder and neck.  He was
surprised to hear a low moan of pleasure escape her lips.

"What's your name?" he asked, as he left a trail of kisses down her jaw
line.

"Natasha," she said.

He felt her cool tongue against his neck as she lapped at the trickle of
warm blood.

His blood was so pure and so innocent that she drew back, searching his
eyes.  He was looking into hers without fear.  His eyes were full of
wonder and trust. She pushed against his chest abruptly, breaking his
hold on her. "No!"

Nick stumbled back confused.  "Wh..a..t?" he stuttered.

"Do you want to die!"  she hissed at him.  "Do you want me to drain you
of your life?"

He stepped closer.

"Stay away,"  she warned, "I cannot control myself right now.  I will
kill you if I taste your blood again."

He stood shocked and dazed.  She took a deep breath then came swiftly
forward and grabbed his face between her hands. "Look into my eyes," she
commanded.  "You will not remember this or what I am."

The pressure and tingle at the base of his brain grew.  "No," he cried
to himself, "I cannot forget, I won't!"  But he said aloud, "I will not
remember you or what you are."  He stood still as if in a trance.

She leaned forward.  With trembling lips, she kissed his softly and then
caressed his cheek with one of her long, cool fingers.  "Why didn't I
meet you 800 years ago," she whispered.

Then suddenly there was a blast of cold air against his face.  He
blinked and she was gone.

He stumbled back. The rush of adrenaline faded now leaving him weak.  He
bumped against his desk and sat hard upon a pile of papers, scattering
them across the floor.

"I could have died, yet she didn't kill me," he thought.  Something
wondrous had passed between them.  Nicholas Lambert desired only one
thing. He wanted more than anything in his life to see Natasha again.

End Chapter 1

Another Reality, Jeannie Ecklund, Gersnightlady@cs.com