"Halfway to Finding the Answer" Forever Knight fic for consci_fan_mo
Title: Halfway to Finding the Answer
Author:karaokegal
Prompt Forever Knight;author's choice of characters; another night, another morgue; donutsweeper
Characters: Nicholas Knight, Donald Schanke
Rating: G
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Word count:200
Disclaimer:: This show is so long gone I doubt anyone owns it or gives a damn.
Notes:Submitted for Day 10 of consci_fan_mo
Nick stood next to the crying woman, wishing he knew precisely how to comfort her.
She was a mother, here to identify the body of her son, shot in a drive-by. The boy had been barely fifteen, and despite the damage wrought by the bullets, he had clearly been a handsome young man, doubtless one of great promise. The air in the morgue was heavy with the sense of loss and the sound of her weeping.
For all his gaucheness, Schanke was far more adept in these situations. He instantly produced a handkerchief and the woman gratefully accepted it, even allowing him to place a hand on her shoulder.
He honestly wondered how Schanke knew that she would tolerate his kindness rather than turn the outrage at her son’s death toward anyone who attempted to ameliorate her pain. It was something he couldn’t imagine doing without somehow asking permission, and yet Schanke did it by pure instinct, even getting the mother to implicate the local gangs whom she held responsible.
Tonight, Schanke was the better cop and the better man.
This was the humanity La Croix had deprived him of so long ago.
This was the life he wanted back.
Author:karaokegal
Prompt Forever Knight;author's choice of characters; another night, another morgue; donutsweeper
Characters: Nicholas Knight, Donald Schanke
Rating: G
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Word count:200
Disclaimer:: This show is so long gone I doubt anyone owns it or gives a damn.
Notes:Submitted for Day 10 of consci_fan_mo
Nick stood next to the crying woman, wishing he knew precisely how to comfort her.
She was a mother, here to identify the body of her son, shot in a drive-by. The boy had been barely fifteen, and despite the damage wrought by the bullets, he had clearly been a handsome young man, doubtless one of great promise. The air in the morgue was heavy with the sense of loss and the sound of her weeping.
For all his gaucheness, Schanke was far more adept in these situations. He instantly produced a handkerchief and the woman gratefully accepted it, even allowing him to place a hand on her shoulder.
He honestly wondered how Schanke knew that she would tolerate his kindness rather than turn the outrage at her son’s death toward anyone who attempted to ameliorate her pain. It was something he couldn’t imagine doing without somehow asking permission, and yet Schanke did it by pure instinct, even getting the mother to implicate the local gangs whom she held responsible.
Tonight, Schanke was the better cop and the better man.
This was the humanity La Croix had deprived him of so long ago.
This was the life he wanted back.