A/N: This one's weird. I don't know what the muses were thinking. But then again, it's kind of neat.
Usual disclaimers apply. I don't own FK or any other Canadian vampire programming
By: Cousin Mary
Tracy sat up with a start as she heard a far away door slam. She yawned and looked around with blurry eyes, realizing to her chagrin that she was at work and she'd fallen asleep at her desk. Thank God no one seemed to have noticed.
Checking her watch, she saw her shift was long over, so she stood and started pulling on her coat. Stretching slightly, she looked over her desk to make sure everything that needed to be taken care of was at least out of sight. She yawned again.
Fumbling for her keys as she headed for the door, then frowned. She heard something. Voices? No… Singing. She looked around, there was a light on in the Captain's office, and someone had left a cup of coffee on one of the far desks, so there were signs of life. But she didn't see a radio or anything that would account for what she was beginning to think was chanting. Gregorian Chants from the sound of it, like from a period piece movie or something.
'Oh well,' she thought, someone had probably left their stereo going in one of labs or offices. Shrugging it off, she headed out into the parking lot.
It was well below freezing and after scraping the thick layer of ice off her windows and warming her car to the blue line, Tracy could no longer feel her nose. Teeth chattering, she dove behind the wheel and cranked up the heater. After a few seconds she became aware of a noise beyond the blasting vent… More singing.
She listened for a moment. Latin. She always turned the radio off when she parked, and this would hardly be on KROC anyway, but she checked nonetheless. No, her radio was definitely off. So where was it coming from?
She looked around the parking lot, but it was empty. She opened the door a crack, but the music didn't get any louder. She felt her heart start to beat harder inside her chest. The little clouds of her breath came faster, fogging up her windows. She turned the heat back to the defroster and put the car in gear.
She wasn't sure why she drove to Vachon's church. It was still dark out and even if he were in town, which she doubted, he wouldn't be there. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him anyway, not for months. She still hadn't come up with a good reason to be there as she climbed the steps and let herself in. She headed straight for the apse and began lighting the countless candles Vachon left scattered about.
She could still hear the chanting. It was somewhat soothing, that is, if she could get over the fact that it wasn't stopping. Tracy sighed as she lit the last candle and sank down heavily to the floor. She stretched her legs out and leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows. She stared up one of the plaster saints that circled the room. About arm's length away the Virgin watched her with open arms. And still the music sang on.
It was different now. More operatic, less chant-like. But still, they sounded like Latin hymns. Being in the church, with it's warmly glowing candles and familiar shadows made her feel better, less panicky at least. But… was she going crazy? After all, normal people did not hear voices where ever they went.
Tracy laid back and stared up at the high arched ceiling. It must have warmed up outside, because she could just make out the pitter patter of rain against the painted-over windows. The music hadn't stopped, but it blended in with the sounds of nature and a sense of peace washed over her.
After a few more moments, Tracy decided that this was getting her no where. She climbed to her feet and one by one blew out the flames.
Then, something strange happened. As she cupped her hand to blow out the last candle, the strongest sense of déjà vu came over her. She looked around the church. It felt all at once like she'd forgotten something very important and like someone was watching her, waiting for her to notice them.
She took a step back and left the last candle burning. She practically ran back down the aisle, she threw open the heavy wooden doors and was dazzled by the dawning sun. The rain had cleared and a heavy morning mist hung on the ground, but the sun shone brightly. As bright as she'd ever seen it. Tracy found herself staring into it. It began to swirl before her eyes, like a hypnotic pinwheel. The music, that had never really stopped, surged forth, louder and more joyous.
"No!" Tracy found herself shouting, wrenching her gaze away and running back to her car. Her heart was pounding and she was literally shaking in terror. She didn't know what was going on, but she was beginning to think that she'd definitely cashed in her last sanity chip.
She didn't go home, for some reason she just knew she shouldn't go there. So she headed back to the precinct. As soon as she parked, she found herself running again, up the steps and back into the bullpen. Her pulse was pounding in her ears and the music was deafening. She nearly knocked down half a dozen people in her rush, but unbelievably everyone stayed standing.
She didn't know why she stopped short at her desk, she didn't know what she expected to find there. But whatever she'd thought she'd find, what she did see was even more confusing. It was empty. Her desk, and Nick's too, was empty. The inbox was clear, the papers she'd left piled under a paper weight were gone. The coffee mug that held Nick's many mismatched pens was no where to be seen. She flung open the drawers, they were all empty.
As she tore apart the desk, Tracy heard voices behind her raised in alarm. She turned around to see the dayshift pointing and, in some cases, yelling at her. She shouted over that this was her desk and where was all her stuff? But they ignored her.
One man, Detective Barkley if she remembered right, stepped forward and slammed the drawers shut and just stood there, as if challenging her to open them again. So she did.
Tracy watched as Barkley's face drained of color and he stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. She stared at him. What the hell was going on?
Out of the corner of her eye she saw another officer race towards the Captain's office. A minute later an authoritative looking woman with graying brown hair stepped out and told her to go home. She spoke in a slow stern voice, and Tracy was taken aback when she noticed the woman wasn't even looking straight at her, making Tracy wonder if she was blind like her friend Jody. The Captain looked sort of in her direction and told her that she didn't know who she was, but that she should leave, her shift was over.
Tracy looked around, the entire precinct was there, standing perfectly still and obviously very much on edge. Tracy nodded and said she'd go. They didn't respond, but as Tracy slowly left the building she could hear them whispering behind her.
Confused, and still hearing the haunting music, Tracy walked back out into the sunlight. She almost wasn't surprised when she found her car gone. She spent a few minutes searching the parking lot, thinking that in her hurry she might have just forgotten where she'd parked, but no, it wasn't there.
She heaved a sigh and started walking. In the sunlight it was warmer, she didn't even need to zip up her coat. She walked aimlessly, half listening to, half ignoring the voices' again almost tunelessly chanting in her head.
She didn't know how long she walked. She was dimly aware of the shadows beginning to lengthen around her. There were a few moments where she could have sworn she saw people in those shadows. Screed first. He didn't seem to see her, just continued rooting around in some boxes. Vachon next. She almost stopped and went to him. But he gave her such a sad, bittersweet smile before turning and walking further into the shadows, she found she just couldn't follow. He didn't want her to.
In the last shadow, the darkest and longest of all, was Nick. He was dressed all in white, it looked almost like a night gown. And he was pale, paler than she'd thought anyone could be. He didn't see her. He just stood there, staring back into the long, dark shadow and frowning. She called out to him, but he didn't hear her, or at least, he pretended not to. He just stood there, his back to the lighted street she was walking, staring off into the blackness.
Tracy felt cold just looking at him, and pulled her coat tighter about herself. She kept walking though, still not a clue where to go. The music played on, softly and peacefully in the back of her mind. She began to hum along.
She was walking west, towards the setting sun. She glanced up at the glowing orb, it was still strangely hypnotic to her tired eyes. She wondered if that was another symptom of whatever psychological problem she'd developed. She looked away, watching her feet as the moved swiftly over the pavement.
After what must have been hours of walking, the sidewalk she'd hung to abruptly petered out. She looked ahead and after a few feet of gravel and some patches of lawn, she saw a wrought iron gate. Again, she had no real reason for going in, but just as before with the church, Tracy found herself compelled to enter.
She shrugged and pulled at the rusting gate. With a long, moaning creak it opened and Tracy sloshed along the puddle-ridden gravel path, watching her feet as they crossed the terrain. She walked the winding path, up a hill and under the bare trees. After awhile she felt suddenly tired, not surprising after her day of walking. She spotted a bench and went to sit down.
The chorus of unseen voices sang on as Tracy absently kicked at the mud and gravel stuck to her shoes. Clouds were skirting across the sky, making a patchwork of light and dark across the muddy ground.
She didn't know what compelled her to look up at that moment, just as the clouds parted and almost spotlighted the area not ten feet in front of her. But once she saw it, she couldn't have looked away for anything. She didn't gasp or cry out, she didn't blink or stare or do anything that would have given away how completely thrown she was by what she saw.
She stood up, normal as could be, and walked to the headstone. Kneeling down, she traced the letters with her finger. 'Here lies Det. Tracy Anne Vetter. Beloved daughter. Dedicated Policewoman. 1971 –1996'
The voices surged forth again as comprehension finally dawned. The clouds parted once more and Tracy herself was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. She didn't look away this time, but stood as the light and music washed over her. Welcoming her, forever.
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