Date: Wed, 11 Aug 1999 19:32:00 EDT From: Cousin Jules Subject: All of Me (01/02) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU All usual disclaimers apply. I'm only borrowing the characters of Nick, Lacroix and Janette and will put them back when I'm finished with this story (well, until next time, anyway). Permission to Mel to archive at her wonderful fanfic site. :) This short story is dedicated to my parents, who gave me a love of the music they danced to in their teens and 20's, and to all the hopeless romantics among us... ******************* All of Me (01/02) by Cousin Jules c. June 1999 You took the part That once was my heart So why not take all of me? - Seymour Simons & Gerald Marks (c. 1932) She stole into the silent club, barely missing the first burning rays of the morning sun. she thought. There wasn't the barest hint that there'd been any activity here during the previous evening - or even the night before that. Being a Friday night, it should have been bustling. Lacroix was in town. Of that much, she was now certain. Though she no longer shared a direct link with him, his presence here remained discernable to her. Janette set down her travelling case and crossed to the bar. Odd, how the full lighting seemed to reduce the room to little more than a large stage with a few necessary props. All was just as she remembered it. Except for the marble bust that sat atop the far end of the bar. This particular vestige of Lacroix's mortal life - one of only a very few - was never on display. Indeed, she had seen it only a handful of times during the past 900 years, usually when... With a more determined step she approached the back rooms of the club and stepped through the open door of Lacroix's office, where she found her former master carefully packing a few small files and books into a plain, brown box. He looked up at her, with something akin to a peaceful look upon his face, as though a long ordeal were over; as if all the pieces had finally fallen into place. Lacroix stopped what he was doing and, after what seemed like hours to her, finally spoke. "I thought I sensed you," he said quietly, but made no move in her direction. Janette did not reply. She was waiting for words yet unspoken, ones that she would no longer be able to 'hear' through a vampiric connection. Intuitively, she felt the electricity which permeated the room. To Janette's dismay, however, Lacroix merely looked at her, as if awaiting a response. "You're moving on," she finally remarked, disappointed at what she perceived to be a lukewarm welcome. If polite conversation and emotional detachment were all Lacroix wanted, well, then, that was what he would get. How easy it was to kill off a kind feeling, she mused. Lacroix looked around the now near-empty room. "Yes," he affirmed, "it is time." His gaze returned to Janette, taking in the form-fitting, black lace dress and patent leather high heels, thankful that his 'universe' still retained some constants. "Have you seen Nicholas yet?" he asked as he attempted to re-focus his attention on the task at hand. "Non," Janette answered directly. Lacroix raised an eyebrow in question. "I did not come to Toronto to see Nicolas." She stood still, trying hard not to fidgit and betray her inner trepidation. "I see," Lacroix replied, giving no indication that he'd picked up on the subtle inference. "Business, then?" he inquired as he walked over to the bookcase that graced one wall. "Which reminds me," he added as he examined the shelves, "you haven't told me what you've been doing with yourself in Montreal. Had time and events not conspired as they did,..." He ceased talking the minute her hand touched his back. "I came to see you, Lacroix," she interrupted, giving emphasis to the personal pronoun. "I missed you." She drew closer, so close that he might have felt her breath had they still been mortal. "Indeed?" he responded guardedly, without turning around. "There it is again," he said, changing the subject. Janette sighed quietly as she withdrew her hand and backed away a few inches. "Nicolas'...distress, you mean?" Lacroix nodded. "Oui. As always, though, I do not know what to do about it." She turned from him and went to sit upon the ever present leather sofa. "I've done my best to block him out of my thoughts, of late. His disquietude has begun to overwhelm me." "He came here earlier this evening, you know. I've told him I'm leaving." "And?" "And, he's uncertain what he will do. Whatever he may decide, however, I shall be gone this night." "To where?" Even as she asked the question, a part of her didn't want to know the answer. "San Francisco. I'd booked two seats on the latest flight out of Toronto, in case he decided to join me." "I see. Je devrais avoir connu ('I should have known')." She rose from the sofa and paced to the other side of the room, rubbing the sides of her arms as if taken by a sudden chill. "It was not meant to exclude you, Janette," Lacroix defended himself. "I did not know where you were. And you've been silent for so long that I was unsure even whether you wished to be found." "Did you ask anyone where I was?" she queried without turning to look at him. "How I was? Nicolas, for example?" Lacroix's silence was all the answer she needed. Lacroix drew near and took her by one arm. "And what about me, Janette?" he asked. "Did the thought that I might be...concerned, ever cross your mind?" "That is not an answer," she told him as she changed position to face him, but made no move to escape his grasp, "but, yes, many times I wondered about you, but I was concerned that if I arrived on your doorstep, this very scenario might play out. That in place of a warm welcome, I'd be met with indifference, just as I have so many times before." Janette looked away as she continued, "Or worse: that because our 'relationship' had changed, so to speak, you might find seeing me...disturbing, in some way. It seems I was correct... on both accounts." She fell silent for a moment, trying to stay angry so as to stave off the tremendous hurt awhile longer, then looked up and asked, "What was the reason for _your_ silence?" She paused to await an answer, but none was forthcoming. Removing his hand from her arm, she added, "I was right, you see. It's always about you...or Nicolas. I'm simply an afterthought, and I have been for some time now." End Part 01/02 ********************** Comments to KnightGal@aol.com Disclaimers, dedications and permissions found in part 1. ********************* All of Me (02/02) by Cousin Jules c. June 1999 New York City 1944 Cigarette smoke danced in the air, just as the evening- and some uniform-clad men and women danced atop the large floor of the elegantly-appointed nightclub. No one would have noticed the two men sitting at a far table, except that the refinements of their clothing seemed that much more refined than those of the other patrons. They didn't smoke, only shared a glass of red 'wine' and watched the throng of mortality carousing away its brief hours, momentarily escaping the realities of loved ones lost and the thoughts of more losses to come. The two felt a tingling in the air and turned to see the silver-sequined figure of the raven-haired woman at the main doors. Even after so many centuries, she still took their breath away, more so upon this night, for she had foregone her normal dark clothing for something more akin to moonlight. If it were possible, she had become lovelier than they had ever imagined her - pouty, red lips, smoky eyes, and the hourglass figure...more perfect tonight, it seemed, than any other night they had ever shared. They stood as she approached the table, never, along with most of the men in the room, taking their eyes off of her. Nicholas took her hand and kissed it, but Lacroix, as always, somehow managed to kiss her with just a gaze, penetrating and gripping, full of longing that she knew existed ane hoped would one day be realised as it had so many years before. He said nothing, only extended a hand in invitation. Janette took it and allowed herself to be guided to the floor as the singer lifted up her voice. All of me Why not take all of me? Can't you see I'm no good without you? The couple moved gracefully along with the other dancers, blending into the crowd, yet, at the same time, existing in a world all their own. She looked into his eyes. Nearly one thousand years, and still she had never found their equal. It was all there, in those eyes: the desire, the pain...the love. Take my lips I want to lose them Take my arms I'll never use them She drew closer to Lacroix, resting her cheek next to his. He neither objected nor responded, only allowed Janette to do as she would. It gave her such an empty feeling. "What did I ever do," she asked in a whisper, "to drive you so far away?" Lacroix hesitated momentarily before answering, "You're looking extraordinarily lovely tonight, my dear. Once again, you have surpassed yourself." Janette closed her eyes in aggravation at his usual and irritating habit of avoiding a simple, direct question. As if he could see through her mental barriers, he added without looking at her, "It's for your own good - our own good. I've told you before, Janette: keep your heart cold. It is the only way to escape despair and desolation and to survive as a vampire." Your good-bye Left me with eyes that cry How can I Get along without you? "Some of us want to live, Lacroix - not just 'survive'," she told him as the dance continued. " A long time ago, I called you 'lord.' In my heart, you have always remained so, even if the words failed to pass my lips. It can never be any different. I still need you. I always will. Without you, there will always be an empty place in my soul. I will only ever be incomplete." The Ancient drew back to look into her eyes, and she saw what looked like vulnerability in the usually stoic features, a crack in the marble. He was quite obviously affected by her words. For a moment, she thought he might actually reach out to her, say something; instead, he drew her close to him so that she couldn't see his face, as though he wished to keep his thoughts well hidden. You took the part That once was my heart So why not take all of me? The song ended, and the dancers and audience alike expressed their appreciation for the talents of orchestra and chanteuse. Like the dropping of the final curtain, Lacroix's face quickly took on its uncaring demeanour, and he led Janette from the dance floor. He stopped as soon as he saw his son approach. Arching an eyebrow in question, Nicholas signalled his intention by asking Janette for the next dance. She accepted just as the band began its rendition of, "I'll Never Smile Again." Passed from one man to the other, Janette watched Lacroix's retreating form. She disliked having her plans thwarted, for she had fully intended to confront and get an answer from Lacroix this night. She had been determined to get the truth out of him once and for all. Now that the mood, so to speak, had been broken, she knew it would be ages before she again worked up the nerve to interrogate him further. "Janette, have you been listening to anything I've been saying?" questioned her partner. "What?" she asked, slightly embarrassed to realise that she hadn't even noticed that the dance number was half over and that Nicolas was speaking to her. "I'm sorry, Nicolas. My mind was elsewhere." "That is patently obvious," he quipped good-naturedly. "Seriously, though, Janette," he continued as he looked at her sympathetically and then indicated to Lacroix with a nod, "why do you bother? He doesn't deserve your love. It's a waste of a life - even an immortal one." She raised her head from his shoulder to look into his eyes. "So often, those who seem to deserve love the least, need it the most, Nicolas." There were more words on the tip of her tongue, but she refused to speak them. It was difficult enough to fight the urge to wallow in her feelings. If she shared them with anyone - and Nicolas especially - Janette knew she would lose what little reserve she had left to her. Still, she had to say something. "You just don't see how things truly are." He shook his head. "You're right, Janette. I don't." "Lacroix and I, we are like two sides of the same coin. Without speaking, even without the vampiric bond between us, we understand each other. We already know what the other is thinking, feeling, before any words are uttered." She paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words, then added, "He is my second self, Nicolas." "But what about us, Janette?" Nick asked, taken aback by her words. "Weren't we like that once?" Janette shook her head sadly, then rested her forehead against her partner's before speaking. "We were lovers, Nicolas. We had passion. We had fire. Inside, a part of us shall always love the other; but, Nicolas, we were not kindred spirits. Even if you could accept what you are from here throughout the rest of eternity, we would never be that." With a somewhat hurt look, Nick told her, "He doesn't care about you, Janette. Or me. The only person he cares for, or has ever cared for, is himself." So saying, he pulled her closer. She welcomed the comforting gesture and leaned into his embrace. "It's so odd, though," she told him absently. Nick held her tight, kept moving with the rhythm of the music. "What's that?" "The night I was brought across," she began, "Lacroix told me, promised me, that no one would ever again touch me without my permission." Nick shook his head in confusion. "And that's what has you so perplexed?" "Non," Janette finally answered after a long pause, her head still resting against Nicolas' shoulder. "It is that the one man I love should be the only one who refuses to even admit to being able to experience the emotion; that the one man I would never deny is precisely the one who will not come to me." Nick held her closer in an attempt to assuage some of her distress. "Try not to dwell on it, Janette. It isn't your fault that he doesn't have the capacity to love, or that you mistook a selfish desire for affection." Though she knew he meant to comfort her, the words brought Janette no solace, and in a barely audible voice, Nick heard her say, "But it seemed so very different...so very different, once, a long, long time ago. I still remember the words..." As soon as the music came to a finish, the couple exited the floor and made for the table they had been sharing with Lacroix, who, as it happened, was now nowhere in sight. Shaking off the disappointment at his absence, Janette pulled a cigarette from its silver case and leaned towards Nick for a light, which he was only too happy to provide. She exhaled the first puff, watching as the clouds of smoke twisted into various shapes before disappearing altogether. "What do you think about a trip? Perhaps Montreal?" Nick asked her. Janette smiled. He was trying so hard to cheer her up. "I'm afraid I cannot, Nicolas." Nick gave her a confused look. "But why? You enjoy it there, and it's as close to home as we can get right now. Janette, it may be just what you need." "It's not that I dislike Montreal, or that I would not enjoy the time with you, mon cher," she explained as she traced the rim of her wineglass. "I have decided to move on, you see." "Besides, because it does remind me so keenly of home, it will only bring back too many unhappy memories for me now." She watched his face for his reaction. He was noticeably saddened by her news. "Where will you go then?" "I'm not sure," she responded, turning to scan the room briefly before returning her attention to Nick. "I will get in touch one day, though. I promise." "And Lacroix?" "Lacroix does not know, nor do I wish him to know," Janette said as she leaned back in her chair and took another puff of the cigarette. "And what would be the point, eh? His disinterest in my affairs these days is easily perceived, so it's really none of his concern." Nick looked deeply into her eyes, surprised at her sudden change in mood. "Still, he cares about you, Janette. And it's not like you to just disappear on him like that." "Why do you worry, Nicolas? Were you not telling me but a moment ago that he is incapable of the softer emotions? No, I know what I'm doing." How like Nicolas to give her every good reason for running away from Lacroix, then, when it meant his being left, too, attempting to convince her to stay right where she was. Even so, she could not be upset with him. "I promise that I will contact you, Nicolas, but I need time alone now. Please." He nodded in understanding. All too many times, he'd been exactly where Janette was now, only he had always been unsuccessful at eluding Lacroix. She, on the other hand, had been trained more thoroughly than he, and could easily disappear from sight for some time. She was right. It was better that he not know. Lacroix would only use him to find her. ***************** As she turned to leave, Lacroix took her arm once more and, in a whisper, said with more kindness, "You know that's not how I think of you, Janette." Janette did not turn around to face him as she commented, "Talk, as they say, is cheap. I only know what I see. Or, in this case, what I don't see. What changed, Lacroix? I have asked myself this question over and over again - I have asked you - but never can I find any answers. I am the same person I was from the day you made me, but you...," her voice trailed off. "You changed." She had hoped for something better this time. Silly, really, when she thought about it. Now she only felt numb - so heavy was her heart - numb and vulnerable, and she didn't want Lacroix to see any of that vulnerability. Inevitably, he would only use it against her in some way or end up resenting her for the feelings he knew to be there, rather than admit the true state of his own heart and act upon it. Before she could say more, however, the Ancient's attention was suddenly drawn somewhere else. Nicolas was not doing well - at all. She, too, could feel the dark brooding washing across her, bringing her down. Before she could suggest anything, he spoke. "Nicholas," he barely whispered, his eyes focused on a distant locale. "I must go," he told her, "but I will be back before long." He gazed at her meaningfully: he expected her to wait rather than accompany him. Then, with barely a nod of farewell, Lacroix vanished from sight. Left with only the silence of her own company, Janette crossed the room and stood near the door for a moment before switching off the lights and closing the door behind her. End 02/02 ********************* Comments to KnightGal@aol.com Want to know what happens next?? Get your own personal copy of "A Taste of Forever," produced by Nancy Kaminski, Kathy Whelton and Cindy Ingram!! Pre-orders are now being taken for the zine, and shipping is planned for this September! Proceeds from the sales will benefit Children's Hospital Foundation, through the Geraint Wyn Davies Fan Club. Contributing authors are: Sue Clark, Mary Combs, Dorothy Elggren, Fenris, Nyx Fixx, Susan Garrett, Jean Graham, Leslie GrantSmith, Chris Hunt, Cindy Ingram, Nancy Kaminski, Mei Wa Kwong, Calliope Monsoon, Ophelia Paradise, Libby Singleton, Jules Stafford, Vampwrtr, Kathy Whelton, and Erika Wilson. In addition to the 300 pages of brand new, never seen fiction, the zine will contain gorgeous illustrations by Dorothy Elggren. The cost of the 300-page zine is just $20, plus $3.50 for shipping and handling (US/Canada). S&H costs for other countries quoted on request. For details on how to order, please contact Kathy Whelton ***OFF-LIST*** at kwhelton@compuserve.com.