Date: Sun, 2 Nov 1997 11:18:09 -0600 From: Jill Kirby Subject: Begin Again (1/1) To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu This is just a short one, which I wrote a while ago and recently rediscovered. Thanks to Sharon and Kelly for feedback. This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. It is for entertainment purposes only, and no infringement is intended. Feel free to distribute this electronically with all comments and disclaimers in place and without revision. Please do not reproduce in print without my permission. Archiving is permitted if the story is archived with all parts and disclaimers intact. Constructive criticism, praise, flames or extravagant gifts to jtkirby@mcs.com. *** Begin Again a Forever Knight story by Jill Kirby Natalie scanned the horizon. There. An empty bench-- and it was her favorite, too; it had a wonderful view of the gardens. She ran lightly up the incline, and settled on the bench with a satisfied sigh. She had a little bit of time to herself, and she liked spending it outdoors. The grounds here were beautiful. They'd better be; they seemed to employ a thousand people to take care of them. There seemed to be more people working outside the convalescent home than inside. Natalie shook her head. Convalescent home was just a nice name for where she truly was. Natalie Lambert was in a mental institution. Loony bin. Nuthouse. It was a very nuthouse, Natalie reflected as she looked out over the beautifully landscaped lawn. Patients were called "guests." Most "guests" and staff wore street clothes rather than pajamas and uniforms. The windows were free of bars, though Natalie suspected the triple-paned glass would be next to impossible to break through. All in all, a nice place to recover from everything that had happened. The blood loss, the physical trauma, had been relatively easy to recover from. The emotional trauma-- that was taking a while longer to heal. Natalie pushed her sunglasses a little higher on her nose, then waved as an athletic-looking man in jeans approached. "Hello, John." "Hi, Natalie. Isn't it a great day?" The recreational therapist threw himself on the bench next to Natalie and turned his face up to the sunlight. "You don't need to be any more tan, Mister Outdoors," teased Natalie. John didn't open his eyes. "I told you, that's why I'm an RT. I can be outside all summer long." They enjoyed the sun in companionable silence for a few minutes, then John rubbed one hand over his face and turned to look at her. "I know I've said this before, but it's just great to see you doing so well." Natalie shrugged self-consciously, smiling. "I don't know about that." " do." John's brown eyes were warm and encouraging. "You should be proud of yourself, Natalie. I remember when you got here." Natalie ducked her head. Telling her how far she'd come reminded her of how it all started. Even in the warm sunlight, the memory of that night still made her shiver. In and out of consciousness, too weak to move, praying that someone would come looking for her. That someone would find her. Then the light had come through the open shutters at Nick's loft-- and not long after that, they'd found her, a jagged knife gash in her neck. But very little blood. They had been looking for Nick. Nick was gone. LaCroix was gone. The Raven was shut down. Of course, she'd only found all that out once she was well enough to sit up-- which had taken a while. She'd made a few calls, confirmed what she already knew, and stopped talking. Almost stopped living. All the fancy diagnoses in the world meant the same thing-- she became totally indifferent to the world around her. As her body healed, Natalie withdrew completely. If the hospital staff wanted her to eat, they'd had to feed her. If they wanted her to bathe, they had to lead her to the shower like a little child and do all the work for her. Grace had sat by her bed for hours, talking, and getting no response. Sara and Amy had visited, day after day, without so much as a smile from Natalie. Most of that time was still, mercifully, a blur to Natalie. Later, she'd told Judith-- her therapist-- that it had been like diving into a deep, still, dark pool and staying underwater. Nothing had touched her. She hadn't heard or felt anything, or anyone, but had been locked in that cool, silent place. Alone. Not breathing. Luckily, she'd been sent here. A good doctor, the continued affection of her friends, and some time and distance had helped her to start asking hard questions of herself, and helped her to start finding some peace with the answers. "What are you up to today, Doctor Lambert?" asked John, changing the subject. Nat glanced at her watch. "I have therapy in a few minutes. Then I'm coming to your music therapy group, of course." "Of course. You wouldn't want to miss Peggy playing the drums." They laughed. "You're out of here in a couple of weeks, right?" "You bet." The thought didn't terrify her like it had only last month. She was learning to deal with that paralyzing fear-- the thought that her life would go back to what it had been. Lonely. Scared. Isolating herself from the world. Wanting something she couldn't have, just because she couldn't have it. She wouldn't let that happen again. It was time to find a new way of living. "Speaking of therapy..." John slid over on the bench to allow a tall, graceful woman to join them. "Hello, Judith." "Hi, John. I thought I'd find you out here, Natalie." She laid a notebook next to her on the bench and stretched out her arms, cat-like. "This sun feels great, doesn't it?" John sat up with a deep sigh. "Yeah. And I should go inside. I don't have all my stuff together yet for group." "See you in a couple of hours." The two women watched as John jogged off toward the main building. "We were talking about you at lunch," said Judith with a slightly guilty smile. "We're both so happy with your progress." "Thanks." Judith did not bestow praise lightly, or often, and Natalie valued her opinion. Judith had helped her, believed in her, even fought for her when the memories threatened to drag her back down. Judith's hazel eyes met Natalie's. "I still think there are things you're not telling me. But they don't seem to be impeding your recovery." Natalie allowed herself a small smile. Judith was an outstanding therapist, and Natalie would be grateful to her for the rest of her life. But there were still a few small details that Natalie hadn't shared. Talking about vampires would get her locked up Judith was still watching her, concern in her eyes. "We've come a long way, Natalie." "I know." Nat shrugged. "And I know we've still got a long way to go." She stood up. "I guess we should get started." Judith gestured at the bench she was still sitting on. "We could talk out here, you know. In the sun." Natalie looked around, taking in the colorful surroundings. "That's a good idea." She sat back down. "I like to stay in the sun whenever I can," said Judith with satisfaction, opening her notebook. Nat paused for a moment, then smiled. A smile. "So do I." *** Jill Kirby ~~ jtkirby@mcs.com ~~ www.geocities.com/SoHo/Lofts/4107 NatPack ~~ ABotCoS ~~ NP4 ~~ Dreamer/Minstrel ~~ Wingman Oh, I don't get wild. Wild on me equals spaz. ---Willow, "BTVS"