Author's Notes: All characters and references are copyright Sierra On- Line. Only the interpretation of events is my doing, and is all based on material from Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers.

Additional Notes: I originally wrote this for another website which hosted an official contest from Sierra On-Line. It won first place in three categories out of five categories (Most Realistic Story [meaning could be a part of official story], Best Character Development, and "Ms. Jensen Would Be Proud of You" Best Overall Story), earning me a King's Quest VIII t- shirt and a signed copy (with actual personal message) from Jane Jensen. Also, this edition has been edited to allow it to have a PG rating. Only language was edited out. So, I hope yall enjoy it.

Beginnings

April 19, 1993.

5:00a.m.

The sound of a roaring motorcycle was the only sign of life on the deserted streets of New Orleans. The bike's owner was the only one awake to hear it. If the owner didn't get to his destination soon, he may be the only one around to notice his own wreck. He was doing his best to stay awake; in fact, he didn't even know why he was out this late. He would've been glad to stay at his prior location, in the warm confines of the bed he fell asleep in after a night of love with...what was her name? Lola? Lilly? Lolita! The eventual recollection of her name also brought about the reason for his early-morning departure. He had promised himself not to be around when she had risen from her slumber. He did have the decency to leave her a note, saying that he had to be at work early. What he'd failed to mention was the time he'd intended to leave, or that he really didn't care to be around to explain to her that this was all just a one-night-only performance, and that they should go about their separate ways. Had she been somewhere in the first 20, he would've have been with her for at least a week; between #'s 21 and 30, he would've told her three days later in person that everything was wrong; if she had been # 39, he would have called her the next day from his home to tell her. However, when you get past # 40, then they're lucky if he even remembers their names. She should be honored.

The bike made a left on Royal. The owner didn't even pause to check for oncoming traffic, he knew even the cops were inside at this time of night. Besides, at the rate his "work", if you could call it that, was going, a collision wouldn't hurt him, hell, he may be able to collect insurance. But no such luck befell him this night.

His home came into view on the corner of Dumaine and Dauphine. He parked his bike on the side of the road, right in front of the door. He unlocked the door, but didn't bother removing the "Sorry- We're Closed" sign on the front. He barely had the consciousness to walk all the way to his bedroom, much less think of business at this hour. He removed his jacket and shirt and was asleep upon impact. St.George's Rare Books disappeared from his mind, as did the rest of the world. All that mattered to Gabriel Knight now was finding some way not to wake up.

Gabriel awoke an hour past opening time, but it wasn't to the pounding of customers wanting to be let in. Hell, he'd long forgotten about that ever happening. What he did wake up to was the sound of the phone ringing. He almost decided to ignore it, hoping that Lolita would eventually give-up. However, his memories of the previous evening returned just in time to tell him that he never mentioned his occupation nor his number. Besides, the ringing came from behind the curtain separating his private quarters from the store. Must be business, and in his line of work, any business was good business. Gabriel rushed out to the store, not bothering with a shirt, and answered on the seventh ring.

"St. George's Rare Books, this is Gabriel Knight. How may I help you?" He amazed himself as to how he quickly he went from barely awake to business mode in less than five seconds.

"Yes, I'm replying to an ad you placed in the Times Picayune about an assistant wanted. I was wondering if there was anytime I could come down there and be interviewed?"

Gabriel listened to the feminine voice on the other end with a sense of success. Finally, his prayers had been answered...well, some of them. He'd been desperately seeking an assistant to help watch the store ever since he first opened his shop. But with the poor sales and increase in bills, he'd never been able to do nothing more than place a small ad in the local paper, which stated that the monetary conditions would be determined by the owner. Most people avoided such ads, fearing what he'd planned on paying them. But now someone was replying with interest, and a woman!

Gabriel didn't want to lose the opportunity for help, so he quickly replied, "How about noon, miss? Business usually relaxes around that time." Gabriel hoped that she wouldn't mention the terms of payment over the phone. He really hoped she wouldn't mention them in person, either.

Thankfully, she replied, "That would be excellent, Mr. Knight. I'll be there promptly a noon. Thank you for the opportunity."

"You're welcome, miss..?" The woman had hung up before he had a chance to ask for her name. He was about to think of that as rude, but then, he wasn't about to mess up a chance for a female assistant, even if she was rude. Besides, if he was to interview her, he needed to be at least showered, along with his morning jolt of caffeine, which could only be provided from his coffee maker, currently filled with less-than-standard remnants of the previous morning. He quickly prepared a new mixture, which would be ready and waiting for him when he finished showering.

He also reminded himself to pick up the paper outside the door before proceeding with his plans of cleaning up. He had to check his horoscope to be sure if today was to be the day that he won the lottery.

Embrace new changes which may befall you. Though you may think it unwise to join with one who opposes your views, they will become your greatest ally.

Gabriel read his horoscope again, but to no avail. He could not make heads or tails of the prediction. However, he did know that whatever it said, it didn't involve him winning the lottery. Gabriel had been so busy cleaning himself up that he barely even glance at the front headlines, which contained nothing of interest, anyway. Who cares if some rich woman died today? This Gedde woman could have given birth to Elvis's alien twin and he wouldn't have glanced at it twice. The only woman he was concerned about at this point in time was alive and planning on walking through his front door any minute now.

The clock read 11:58. Gabriel had propped his feet up on the desk, expecting the woman to be late. Therefore, he nearly fell out of his chair when the bell above the door rang at 11:59 and a young Oriental woman walked through.

Quickly gathering himself together, Gabriel readjusted himself in his seat and said, "Welcome to St. George's Rare Books. How may I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for the owner. I called earlier and he told me to meet him here for an interview."

Gabriel was stunned. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She wasn't outrageously gorgeous, which he knew he wouldn't get, but still, she looked better than some of the women he had dated before. His eyes went from her bespectacled eyes down to her pink blouse and continued down to her floral skirt. He imagined the two of them together running through fields of...

"Excuse me, SIR. If you can take your eyes off me for at least a minute and get your boss out here, I would probably appreciate it." Her loud, pissed- off sounding command was all that was needed to break Gabe's trance.

He replied, "Well, Miss. I just so happen to be the owner. My name is Knight, Gabriel Knight."

"Yeah, right. No one with hair that looks like it got tangled in a lawn mower could ever gather enough money to own a store."

"Hey, wait a minute, it just so happens I spent hours fixing my hair to look this good..." Gabriel stopped himself, realizing that this useless bickering would only blow his chances of getting an assistant. "I'm sorry, Miss. But I am the owner and only employee of this bookshop. I'm looking for an assistant because I'm also an accomplished writer."

Gabe was stretching this a little bit. Sure, he was a writer, but what he didn't want to tell her is that he had accomplished nothing but failure during his career. That was going to change, however, if he could ever hire someone to tend to the store while he did his research. "I'm sorry to say I have not heard of any of your books." Gabe was starting to feel as if he was fighting a losing battle. He didn't know what was keeping him from dismissing this annoying woman, no matter how good-looking she was, and wait for someone better to come along.

Because no one else would coming along! "Well, forget about that. I'm sorry to say that most of them aren't very good." He was right about that. "Let's get on with this, Miss..I believe I never did catch your name." "That's because I didn't throw it." *drum set sound* Diddy-BOOM! "It's Grace Nakimura."

Grace went on to tell Gabriel about why she wanted to work at St. George's Rare Books. She was a student a Yale, specializing in research. Gabe found this part very useful. Maybe she wouldn't mind helping him out on that part of his book. She went on to tell him that she recently moved to New Orleans for temporary courses in art at Tulane, as well as some time to enjoy the city's unique culture. She was looking for some work during the day to pass her time. She saw the ad Gabriel had placed in the paper, and since she was very interested in old books, she decided to seek employment here.

Although Gabriel tried to remain interested, he could barely stifle a yawn, which Grace had noticed. "I'm sorry if my little story has passed your low level of attention, Mr. Knight."

Gabriel dismissed a retort. Besides, he didn't want her in too foul a mood when he asked her the one thing he didn't want to discuss. "I'm sorry, Miss Nakimura, but I was up too late last night," not all entirely false, "Now, the last thing I need to discuss with you is the matter of payment. Since this is a rare bookshop, many people don't come in here for certain periods of time. Because of that, money matters can be a little tight. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to pay you whenever we get purchases."

That's it. It's over. She's either going to kindly refuse and leave, or if she's as rude as she was over the phone, she'll laugh right in his face.

"That's all right, Mr. Knight. I could tell over the phone that you were lying about the 'heavy business' hours. I've been in numerous rare bookshops. I have enough money with me to tide me over until I go back to school full-time in the fall. So, do I get the job?"

Gabe didn't know what to say. She was willing to work for what could be nothing. On the other hand, she had an attitude which matched his own. Still, on the other hand, she was good looking.

After deciding he had too many hands, Gabriel muttered, "All right, you can start work tomorrow. I need you here an hour before we open. If I'm not up, then don't wake me. Just hold the fort until I do."

"I'll bet you want me to make the coffee and fetch the paper when I arrive, too."

"Only if you're not swamped with customers." Gabriel could have sworn she tried to stifle a laugh when he said this.

"No problem, Knight. I'll be here. And don't worry, I have a feeling I won't ever be going into your room as long as I work here." A part of Gabriel started to laugh when she said this. She then left Gabriel to himself. He supposed that he could live working with her, even if she was annoying. Besides, it was only until the fall.

He decided to finish reading the paper, but he still ignored the headline. Instead, his eyes turned to an article which mentioned rumors of Chicago drug traffickers making a possible move into New Orleans. Maybe he would speak to Mosely about this sometime. But not today. In fact, he could barely stay awake to finish the day.

When closing time did come 72 hours later (it was really 8 hours later, but the rest of the day didn't help him to stay awake), he made a sandwich of the remains of his shopping trip three weeks earlier. He didn't even try coming up with a new story idea, his mind was already half-asleep. He turned in early, not wanting to wake-up too late for the new employee tomorrow. Gabriel thought about Grace, which suddenly made him think of his horoscope. He couldn't take his mind off of it. Had it been right? Well, so far the "opposing views" part was the only thing, but the ally part? Yeah, right. Like he was going to go on some big adventure in his life! The only adventure he was going on right now was how to avoid unemployment and repossesss....

Gabriel didn't have enough waking power to finish that thought.

April 20, 1993

9:00a.m.

Gabriel's dream was interrupted by the smell of coffee. Good thing, too, because it was starting out too weird. Why had he even dreamed of a woman tied to a stake, anyway? Hell, his love life was bad enough without thinking of such stuff. The fire around her didn't help to change his mind.

His mind quickly sprung awake to the thought of the coffee. He didn't even remember making coffee the night before, he couldn't believe he left it on the whole night. Without thinking, Gabriel rushed out into his store and rushed to the counter. On the counter was a full pot of coffee next to the paper, which was stacked nice and neatly. He couldn't even remember placing it so neatly next to the coffee he couldn't remember making. He glanced down at the date on the paper. It wasn't the same paper! Was he losing his mind?

"If you're going to come out here without a shirt on everyday, then I'm going to file for worker's comp."

Gabriel turned around to find Grace sitting at the counter. "When did you get here, Grace?"

"At eight, just like you told me."

"So if I told you to sleep with me, would you do that, too?"

"Only after I was declared clinically brain-dead. Why don't you have a cup of coffee? Maybe what you call a brain should wake-up before your mouth gets you in deep trouble." Gabe couldn't say no to that. "But first, please put on a shirt!"

After his second cup, Gabriel woke-up enough to realize that Grace had taken down a few books from the shelves. "What are you doing with those books?"

"Well, after I was able to fight off all of the customers, I pulled down a couple of books, just to see what kind of condition they were in. Obviously, your writing must take up most of your time. A lot of these books are in poor condition. No wonder nobody wants to buy them."

"Well, how do you suppose I repair them, Grace? Use spit and glue? I don't have the necessary tools to fix them nor do I have the money to buy them."

"God, it's a good thing you hired me. I happen to have some things at my apartment. I could bring them tomorrow and work on some of them."

"You must not have any sort of personal life."

"Better to have no life than your life, Knight. Besides, I don't intend on reverting back to a troglodyte, which seems to be your future the way you keep staring at my legs like a brainless idiot."

To tell the truth, Gabriel didn't even notice that he had done so. Must come with the years of hunting for the opposite sex. Instead of bothering to think of a retort, Gabriel just picked up the newspaper. Unlike yesterday, the headline caught his immediate attention:

Police Confirm Rumors of Chicago Gangs In an interview with this reporter, Detective Mosely of the N.O.P.D. confirmed that members of a Chicago crime organization have started to move into the city. "We recently arrested two...drug dealers last night, who confessed to pushing illegal narcotics given to them by Chicago men." When asked if there had been any apprehension of actual gang members, Detective Mosely replied, "As of yet, no arrests have been made. We do know that the drugs recovered last night are just a sign of things to come. However, the citizens of New Orleans have nothing to fear. The N.O.P.D. will place their full attention and resources to stopping the invasion of outside crime into the city before it becomes out of hand."

Gabriel leaned against the counter. He began running through his mind possible plot ideas he could write about. He didn't particularly like true- life stories like this; all of his previous novels had been supernatural thrillers spawned from his own imagination, but a writer in his position can't afford to deny a possible story idea. Besides, his supernatural thrillers couldn't satisfy the general public, then maybe a true-life crime story would. And as an added bonus, Mosely was working on the case. Surely he could convince Mosely into revealing just enough so that he could start on a possible plot.

After finishing the article, Gabriel turned to the horoscope. Hopefully, today's message wouldn't be as confusing at first as yesterday's was.

Do not ignore the current conflicts for today, even if they don't affect you. In time, they will all focus on you, though they may not be the same problem.

No such luck.

Throwing the paper down, Gabriel walked towards the coat rack, whipped on his black leather trench, and muttered a quick "I'm going out," in Grace's direction.

"Going to do a little research for a new book, Knight?"

Gabriel tried as hard as he could to ignore the high tone of sarcasm in her voice. Instead of retorting with what he felt like saying, he simply replied, "As a matter of fact, I am. Try not to sell out the store while I'm gone." Gabriel revved up the engine, cleared the road, and headed towards the police station.

Gabriel was pissed off. Instead of going his normal, quicker way to the police station, he'd headed north and traveled on North Rampart, which not only took longer, but today the traffic was backed up due to a funeral procession. Gabriel was wondering what possessed him to take this way.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was being watched. He turned his attention to a car which stopped in front of him while turning into St. Louis Cemetery #1. The window was rolled down partially, and Gabriel found himself staring into the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Even though her face was hidden by a veil, Gabriel could've sworn the woman was looking directly at him. He felt recognition in the exchange of glances. His eyes followed the car into the cemetery, then followed the passengers to a heavily ornamented tomb. On the tomb, Gabriel could barely make out a name: Gedde. The name from the paper! Still, he couldn't figure out why he was here. And who was that woman? Gabriel felt he was in a supernatural novel.

"Sir, you can move on now." The street cop's command quickly broke Gabe's novel fantasy. He started up his bike again, which he had turned off to preserve his fuel, made a left on Conti, and headed for the police station, not looking back.

He didn't know if he had made it to the police station or if he had made a wrong turn and ended up at a reporter's convention. Reporters from both television and newspaper, from local to out-of-town, from recognizable veterans to obscure rookies had gathered inside the police station. Gabriel had barely been able to squeeze himself through the sea of inquisitive sharks. He looked around, seeing if he could find the desk sergeant, but he was unsure if he could find the desk.

"Gabe!" He heard Mosely's heavily accented voice, but couldn't find its origin. Pretty weird how he couldn't spot a polyester suit among all of these people. "Gabe! Over here!" Behind the desk to his right, Gabriel saw Mosely waving at him. Gabe made a quick hop over the bench and quickly squirmed his way towards Mosely. "Go on in, I'll be right there. Gotta get rid of these morons first."

Gabe nodded, then quickly opened and shut the door, as if the reporters would suddenly seep through any crack into the room. As usual, Mosely's office was a war zone with the decimated bodies of past cases strewn all about. However, the last thing on Gabe's mind right now was finding a way to insult his life-long friend. Besides, he needed to find a mirror to make sure the chaos outside didn't mess-up his hair. Unfortunately, Mosely's hair line wasn't making any change from its gradual retreat; as a result, Mosely tried as hard as he could to avoid mirrors. Gabe used his faint reflection in Mosely's two-way mirror to try to fix as much as he could make out.

"You always were the vain one, Knight. Maybe you should look into a real mirror and you'd see your hair looks like crap!" Gabe quickly finished running his hand through his hair and turned to face the bulky, polyester- wearing body of Detective Mosely. Gabriel summoned all of his will power to sit down and avoid one-upping Mosely's insult. Mosely sat down on the opposite side and cocked an eyebrow. "Let's see, given the fact that you arrived here about the same time those freakin' reporters arrived here and you didn't come back with a better insult, you must want information on the Chicago gang invasion."

"Well, then you didn't get this job on your good looks alone." Gabriel made sure that Mosely heard his sarcastic tone, because he didn't want to regret him repeating that ever again.

"I tell you Knight, you're too predictable. Don't blame you, though. There are reporters who would rip off their manhood to get all of the information we got from Lytton P.D. about the work these Chicago druglords are planning on."

"Lytton? I thought Lytton was in California."

"It is, but they had some psycho from Chicago who tried to take over all the drug activity there back in '87. Not only that, but he even developed a personal vendetta against the cop who busted him. Kidnapped his girlfriend and led a killing spree all the way to New Mexico before the man got his ticket punched."

"I trust there's a point to this little police drama?"

"Well, Lytton feared a possible follow-up, so they kept tabs on the activity there. The information they gave us matches our situation exactly. You know, I'm already having enough trouble as it is. My wife starting to talk divorce, the domestic crime isn't starting to let up, and now some friggin' Chicago punks who can't get nothin' done on their own turf are trying to get the drop on us."

Gabriel had just about enough of Mosely's vivid depiction of his social life. Might as well ask him now before he jumps out the window without asking first. "So, you going to tell me what I want to know?"

"Knight, now you know I can't divulge confidential police information to the public. Hell, what do you think I was doing out there? You think they were giving us information?"

"C'mon, Mosely. I'm having trouble coming up with a new idea for a book and I think I can do something with this."

"Now what kind of idiot do you take me for?" Again, Gabriel resisted. "I know all you write are supernatural ghost stories. Hell, I know you even hate those true crime books."

Gabriel knew he was losing, so he called on the one thing he hoped he didn't have to mention," Look, if you help me with this, I may be able to make you the main character."

That did it. Before the words had time to leave Gabriel's mouth, Mosely went from barely-giving-a-care slouching to complete-and-undivided- attention straightness. "You serious 'bout that, Knight?"

Gabriel had him, now to get even for earlier, "Mostly, you just heard me. I need a book, and you need help. If you gave me all I need, I would not only give you the role, I'd dedicate it to you."

Gabriel knew he had him; all that was left was to get what he needed. "Well, only if you promise not to go flipping your mouth to other people 'bout this, especially the press!"

"Mostly, you know me."

"Yeah, and you're lucky I don't hold that against you. Well, I guess so. Grab a pen and paper."

This was the part Gabriel hated most. He kept promising himself he'd buy a tape recorder. He hated writing by hand. Oh, well. Maybe next payday he'll still have a job to use it for. Fishing out a pen and a notepad from his jacket, Gabriel wrote for the past hour about information Mosely had gathered from not only streets, but from the Lytton correspondents. Despite his previous disdain, Gabriel found himself becoming interested in what was developing. Maybe he could start a whole series like this. Then again, truth is always stranger than fiction; besides, he knew he couldn't keep writing about Mosely. He didn't realize how desperate he was for a book until after he'd promised him. Oh, well. It's not like his next book would be any different from the other stuff he wrote. This time, he could blame the bad sales on Mosely.

When Mosely was finished, Gabe thanked him and stood up to leave. "Hey, Knight. I saw your ad in the paper. Hired anyone yet?"

"Yeah, just yesterday. Her name's Grace Nakimura."

"Grace, huh? I may have to come down there someday, that is, if you're not too busy."

"Put it this way, knock before entering."

"Yeah, right. Last time I saw you, you were with Lolita."

"Don't start. I'll talk to ya later." "Later, Knight."

Gabriel had been out longer than he thought. It was nearly closing time when he arrived back at the store. Grace announced that she had finished two books. "Great, but don't expect a raise. Any calls while I was gone?"

"Yeah, a couple of them. First, Margaret called, asking if it's all over, and Barbie said to call soon or it will be over."

"Toss 'em."

"Ooh, a little irresponsible, are we. And to think I was ready to run away with you to Vegas."

"How about just running away? Or am I that irresistible?"

"Yeah, that and your well-groomed hair."

Gabriel had to stifle a little snicker. Despite himself, he was actually starting to like her as a friend. Was he getting soft? Grace got out of the seat and announced, "Well, it's closing time."

"Need a ride home?"

"Nice try, Knight. I've got a martial arts class. Besides, if you knew where I lived, I'd be forced to look for a new home. See you tomorrow."

After she closed the door, Gabriel began to wonder if she wasn't lying about that class. Martial arts? Maybe he should be a little more careful about what he said.

Reading his mail, Gabriel found a mail-order catalog with a hand-held cassette recorder. It was priced much lower than the types in the store, and it also came with fifteen free cassettes. Gabriel tore out the advertisement and the form. Looking in the cash register, he decided against borrowing from it. Maybe until he acquired more money. Besides, he had a feeling that Mosely wouldn't be getting much information anytime soon. The information he had now, though, was enough to get him started on the plot immediately.

Well, maybe tomorrow.