Forever Knight – the Continuing Story.
The characters in Forever Knight were created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and are the property of Sony/Columbia/Tri-Star. The stories here are fan fiction, in which Nick and Natalie survive "Last Knight", the series finale. Also, Vachon survived Divia in "Ashes to Ashes". This story may be archived wherever by whomever.
Wade Everett is a good-looking, capable, smart-ass, and gay homicide detective who's sometimes full of himself. He's temporarily assigned to the 96th and Nick while Nick's partner, Tracy (who also survived LK) recuperates. He's found out what Nick is; this story takes place about six months later.
Shoot Out at the All Right Corral Walt Doherty
Leatherneck (So, you like wearing dead cow, huh?)
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly - Theme lyrics
"What the hell? Ah, s**t," came out of Wade. He reached into his jock and pulled out his beeper and turned the beeping off. "Double %*!%!**^//+%7!!,"he said, and looked over at the other judges, 'Gotta go,' emergency."
"If ya gotta, ya gotta."
" 'S alright. We'll cover for ya."
"That's the way the beefcake crumbles."
Wade jumped off the platform, ran to his car, stripped off his chaps, and hastily tossed them into its back seat, and threw on his leather 501s. After he got in, he took his gun from the hidden compartment and put it in his shoulder holster, which was fairly easy since it was part of the top harness he was wearing.
He started the car and tore out of the parking lot toward the scene of the crime to which he had been called.
He got to the location, a run-down motel near the waterfront, pulled up near Nick and the Captain who were over behind a dumpster.
Just as he was about to jump out of the car, he realized he'd left his jacket back at the contest, and he realized what he was wearing was maybe not quite appropriate for a homicide detective at a crime scene.
"Hey, Nick," he shouted in a stage whisper. "Gimme your coat."
"C'mon, man, look at what I'm wearin'. Lend me your coat, or I'm outta here," Wade begged.
Wade was in his very thin, tight, leather, low cut 501s, his top harness, with his holster attached, but his motorcycle jacket was somewhere back at the bar where he had been.
"Sure, Wade," Nick said, desperately trying to keep from snickering. He started to take his sportcoat off; "Nice pecs, by the way," he tried to say neutrally. Wade grabbed the coat quickly; enough people had already seen him in his harness.
"What's the situation, Cap?" he said wrapping Nick's sports jacket around himself.
The Captain looked askance at the man as he closed the coat. He had a good-god-now-what expression on his face.
"Hostage. Perp's up there on the second floor, high on drugs, trapped, -- uh, nice outfit, Detective. Nipple rings?" He shook his head. " – uh, he, he shot his wife, and, ah, he's got his two kids in there with him. You've done hostage negotiation, right?
"Although, being in that outfit may not be the best way to proceed," the Captain said, looking dubious. It was all Nick could do to keep from laughing out loud.
"You KNOW this was my day off and that I had plans," Wade said testily, "so whatta ya expect?"
The Captain said, "Well, not that," glancing at him.
"Well," said Nick with tongue firmly in cheek, and observing just how tight Wade's jeans were, "I didn't expect to find a refugee from a Billy Idol look-alike contest."
"Yeah, right, Nick," he replied with an exasperated frown. He's not familiar with the movie, 'The Wizard of Oz', but he knows who Billy Idol is. Go figure.
A couple of officers were standing nearby and had seen Wade's 'outfit', one shouted over, "Hey, Everett! Where do you keep your gun in that outfit?"
"Jeez, Barbara," he said hooking his thumbs into his belt right over the jeans' zipper, and thrusting his hips forward, "you don't want to know. Pirelli . . . yeah, I'll show you later, Pirelli. And you shut up, Fred; you already know." He winked. Fred blushed.
Nick asked Wade, "Do you have trouble getting through metal detectors with all your – um -- metal?" gesturing at Wade's chest.
Wade pointedly did not look at Nick and said to the Captain, "Hey, you seem to have things in hand here, why'd you call me?" he complained.
"I wanted you here for negotiations, Detective, although – why are you dressed like that?" he said in wonderment.
"I'm one – or I was -- one of the judges for the 'Mr. Leather Toronto' contest, o.k? We were about to, ah, -- the pager said number-one emergency, so I didn't change."
The Captain looked up at the sky with his eyes, and both he and Nick snickered. "I guess not," the Captain said.
Wade glared at them both.
"What the heck," said the Cap, "maybe the leather'll throw him off. We got a phone line over here, but he won't answer. You want a megaphone?"
"Let's wait a min—"
Suddenly there was a commotion, the man threw one of the children off the balcony at the police below him. Nick ran forward as fast as only he could and managed to catch the kid, and then hand him of to a nurse nearby. Meanwhile, the man had jumped over the railing into the parking lot next door.
Wade took off at top speed after him. The man aimed his gun at Wade, Wade saw Nick out of the corner of his eye, Nick shouted, "Hey, A**wipe! Throw down the gun and give it up, you're not going anyplace!", to distract him and grab his attention while Wade ducked into a roll as the gunman turned toward Nick. When he brought the gun around to point it at Nick, Wade came out of his roll, jumped up, slipped out of Nick's sport jacket, swirled it wrapping it around his forearm, and whipped it across the perp's hands which knocked the gun out of the guy's hand. But then the guy grabbed the end of the coat nearest him and gave it a great yank; Wade strategically let it go, which threw the guy off balance, and Wade was able to bring him down on the ground.
The perp didn't give up though. He fought Wade, throwing a couple of good punches while they tumbled on the ground. Wade pasted a good one on him while Nick ran up behind them, grabbed the guy's wrists, and handcuffed him.
"Thanks," Wade said, breathing hard.
"Not at all," replied Nick. Nick picked up his coat and held it out to Wade. "Nice fighting!"
The captain came up to them, "Good work, fellas."
To Wade, "You might want to be careful with that jacket, Detective, you're bleeding." Wade draped the coat over his arm. Nick's eyes flashed gold. "Go over to the ambulance, they should have some first-aid stuff there."
To Nick, "Good work, Nick. Turn him over to the sergeant there. We shouldn't need much investigation since it's clear he shot his wife, but you should still interrogate him after he comes down. Damn, he probably won't even remember shooting her.
"Hi, Natalie. It seems to be pretty clear here now," and the Captain explained the circumstances to Toronto's (and our) favorite coroner.
Wade stood off to the side with Nick, brushing the dirt off Nick's coat and himself.
"You should get those cuts and abrasions taken care of," Nick said, licking his lips, his eyes still had golden flecks in them.
Wade looked at him, raised his eyebrows, "When was the last time you 'ate', Detective?" Then he turned his torso towards Nick, deliberately placing the bloodied part right under his nose, leaned over, leered, and whispered, sotto voce, "Or, we can go over to my place, and you can lick the blood off my wounds and clean them up for me if you'd like, my golden-eyed friend." He smirked.
Nick, somewhat taken aback, he'd have blushed if he could, said, "Oh, sorry, Wade. It's just, well, you know."
"Yeah, Nick, I know," he said somewhat sympathetically, although not much.
The captain and Natalie came over to them.
"You need to get those scrapes taken care of, Wade," said the Captain.
"Can I clean those up for you, detective?" Natalie asked almost giggling, but she did hold out some handkerchiefs for Wade to use.
"Ah, no thanks, people, I'll be alright," but he did take the hankies and wiped some of the blood off. "And frankly, when – and if – I can get back to the, uh, where I was, these bruises can only help with my plans for later – uh, you don't want to know that, though, I suspect." He draped the sportcoat over his shoulders.
The Captain looked a bit appalled, "Right . . . just keep the coat wrapped around you, o.k.? You can write up your reports later, Detective, we wouldn't want to keep you from your, um, previous engagement. I'll see you all later." He turned and left.
Natalie took a good look at Wade and what he was wearing.
"Nice outfit, Detective, your rings are particularly fetching," she said as Wade pulled the coat around his shoulders while wincing. "Where do you keep your weapon in that outfit?"
Wade just looked at Natalie, glanced down at a point below his waist, then gave her a sarcastic, lop-sided grin. Nick simply turned and looked at her as noncommittally as he could. She started to say something else, but she realized what she had just said and had the good graces to remain quiet with an oh-so-innocent expression herself.
"Yeah, nice outfit, Everett!" one of the passing officers said with a big grin.
Damn, thought Wade, and he wrapped the coat tighter around his shoulders, to heck with the blood, although he also thought what was the point now that everybody had gotten a good look at him.
"Right again, Pirelli, you'd know." Pirelli blanched a little but kept smiling. Wade leaned forward towards the cop and wiggled his eyebrows Groucho Marks style at him.
Natalie just shook her head, looked over at the Detective. The coat had slipped loose again. "Your abs are showing, Detective," she said and smiled.
Nick smiled broadly at her and said, "You know, Nat, some guys do give Wade a second look." At that she laughed out loud.
Wade lifted his eyebrows.
"Oh, no, no, Wade, not you. That's something between Nick and me. You look very nice for a bruised, beat-up, barely dressed leatherperson, but you should clean up those abrasions."
"Don't worry about it, Natalie," he said smiling, "I expect I'll have 'em lined up waiting to try."
Natalie continued, "And, for the both of you: there's really nothing to tell, straight-forward gunshot. Died instantly. No surprises. I'll bet it was going to be murder-suicide though, but apparently he couldn't bring himself to hurt his kids."
"Thank god for small favors. They going to be alright?" Wade asked.
Nick replied, "Well, Social Services is here taking care of them now. Why don't you get going, Wade. It looks like you've got some plans you'd like to finish up." Nick grinned at him.
"Thanks, I do." He lifted the door of his car, and started to get in. "I'll get your coat cleaned and back to you tomorrow, Nick. Take care of him, Natalie. His eyes were golden earlier, I think he needs more of one of your protein shakes."
"God'll get you for that, Everett!" Nick said. And his eyes narrowed and flickered gold.
Not Partners of the Month or How much is that Torso in the window
Let's get physical, physical
I wanna get physical
Let's get into physical
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk
Let me hear your body talk
-- Physical, Olivia Newton-John
When Wade got into the station house the next night, he found on his desk: "Torso of the Month" with a picture of him from the previous night. Actually, it was a pretty good picture, he was back-lit so it showed him more in shade than light, but you could still readily make out his physique.
Where the hell did that come from, he thought. Ah, the photographer! He smiled and said loud enough for everyone to hear, "You're just jealous, Pirelli! Your boyfriend wishes you had abs like these. Hey, you wanna borrow my 'ab-erator'?"
Pirelli's mates poked him in the ribs.
"Hey, anytime you want to match sit-ups, just let me know," Wade said.
Nick turned to Wade, "You've got to have a lot of confidence to carry off that look."
"Shyness was never my problem. Now, keeping my mouth shut and not showing off . . . ." Wade smiled, "Ha! You've got to do a lot of sit-ups to get this look," Wade added patting his stomach. He was rummaging around in his desk for some post-its. "They just wish they looked this good;" he wrote something on one of them and then stuck it on the sign so that it now read, "#1 Torso of the Month"! He took the picture, looked at it approvingly, and put it up on the wall over his desk as a trophy, "If ya got it, flaunt it!" he said with a big smile.
Nick said, "Jeez, Wade, don't take it so hard. How'd you make out at the contest?"
"Interesting that you put it that way," he laughed, "I 'made out' just fine. The cuts and bruises added a certain panache that my pretty-boy looks don't usually have. I may have to get into a fight whenever I go out, considering the reaction I got.
"By the way, I dropped your coat off at my dry cleaners, they'll stitch up the rips as well as clean it."
"Thanks, Wade." Nick smiled, shook his head, looked up at the ceiling, and said, "Uh, can we just finish up the reports from last night and get out of the building? The testosterone build-up is beginning to get to me."
Kid's Stuff (Let's do it for the kids)
Your body, my body
Everybody move your body
Your body, my body
Everybody work your body
Ah ah eh eh, let's all chant
Ah ah, eh eh, let's all chant
-- Let's All Chant, The Michael Zager Band
"Hey, Everett," Pirelli had come over to him and spoke, "about the abs thing –"
"Aw, don't think a thing about it, Pirelli; it's o.k." Wade said.
"Uh, no, it's not that. There's a charity event coming up for the children's hospital, and, uh, well, --"
Wade looked at Pirelli with amusement; he felt for the guy while he was trying to get out whatever it was he wanted to say.
"—Yeah. Well, o.k., look, you really do seem to have good abs, and I've been trying -- my girlfriend is a sports trainer. I was thinking about having an 'Ab-Off'. You and I start off doing sit ups, and everybody pledges a penny or two per sit up. If I win the children's hospital gets the money from the Constables' League, if you win, they get it from the Detectives' Union. Whaddayah say?" Pirelli looked a little uncertain. He was taking a big step approaching Detective Everett so openly.
"Pirelli," Wade said with a big grin, "you got it. That's a great idea, and no matter who does the best, it's the kids that win, and that's always good." He walked over to Pirelli and slapped his back with one arm and shook Pirelli's hand with his other.
"And, hey, Pirelli, I hope the joshing about your 'boyfriend' didn't bother you."
"Oh, no, no. Well, o.k., hey, look. You seem like a really nice guy. I don't know that many gay guys, and," he looked around conspiratorially, "my Dad's a real bigot. And Sally, I really do have a girlfriend, Everett, her best friend is a gay guy and her brother . . ., so I'd better straighten myself – " He stopped, having just realized what he had said; his eyes started to open wider.
Wade laughed and stepped in to give the guy a break. "Hey, Pirelli, no prob. You should see how many 'gay guys' are real straight shooters! Don't worry about it. And bring Sally in sometime, we can compare exercise regimens. That 'Ab-erator' is real crock anyway. Maybe the three of us could do sit-ups? Make it a challenge of the sexes. You wouldn't take it too hard losing to both of us, would you?" Wade said that with the most innocent look on his face.
"And, hey, Pirelli, if we're goin' to be that close doing all those sit-ups, you'd better call me 'Wade', o.k.?"
"If that's yer name fella, I'd be glad to, call me 'Angelo'."
"Good, Angelo, and my name's actually 'Mijk', but that's a long story. C'mon, call your partner over, let's go to the lounge and I'll spring for the coffee, and we can work out the details about the contest."
"Hey, Petey!" Angelo called out, "C'mon, we're gonna do the Ab thing, we need to work on the details."
"Nick," Wade said, "cover for me for a few, o.k.?" Nick nodded.
"Ya know, Angelo, It'd really be great if you could get Sally to go in with this. Hi, Pete, I'm Wade. Oh, hey, Cap, Angelo's got this great idea for a fund-raiser for the kid's hospital, C'mon with us, so we can work out some details. I'll even get you some water from that damn water fountain. Whaddayah say?"