I can see I've been beaten to the punch on this one. Oh well. So many stories, so little time. And I've just discovered that VR5 program has all sorts of lovely possibilities and NO vampires . . . . No ill intent to the writers or readers of brown paper wrapper fiction. ************************ Brown Paper Packages by Susan M. Garrett Natalie took a breath before knocking on the door to the Raven and wondered just how good of an idea this was. Surprisingly, the door opened after a second and Janette peered out at her--standing well within the shadow of the doorway and protected from the sunlight. "Is Nick--?" "Here?" Janette's answer was sharp. "No, Doctor, he's not." She began to close the door. Instantly Natalie leaned on it, then slipped inside the club before Janette could exert enough force to keep her out. "He's not at the loft," she said, as Janette eyed her coldly, the door still slightly ajar. "His car's at the station--he's not in the trunk." Janette's breath hissed out through her teeth and her eyes widened. "You didn't open it in broad daylight!" "Of course not!" Natalie looked over her shoulder, out through the crack in the door to the sunlit world beyond. "Schanke said Nick was going to make his own way back to the station--he never got there." "And you're afraid he might be . . . trapped somewhere?" answered Janette, arching an eyebrow. "I'm afraid he might need help." Natalie met the amused gaze squarely. "If anyone can tell me where he is--you can." "Much as you hate to admit it, hmn?" Janette closed the door to the Raven, blocking out that one thin shaft of sunlight that tethered Natalie to the real world, then crooked her finger and headed downstairs, past the dance floor and directly to the bar. "Come, Doctor, you need a drink. You've had an excitement. Not unwarranted. After all, Nicola has been known to do dangerous things in the past--but he's safe." After hesitating a moment, hands gripping the railing at the upper landing tightly, Natalie followed Janette into the dim light of the silent club. "You know he's all right?" "I it." Janette shrugged as she walked around the end of the bar, then stood behind it. She placed both of her hands flat on the surface, which was covered with paper, and gave Natalie a careful smile. "Which is sometimes better than knowing, yes? He's safe. I don't know where, but he's well." Natalie released the breath she hadn't known she was holding. She watched as Janette poured her a shot glass of Scotch and decided, after a few seconds of reflection, that Janette probably wasn't lying to her. If Nick were in trouble, Janette would know. And she doubted even Janette 'the vampire-ice-queen' could hide something like that easily. Placing the shot glass on the papers, Janette said, "To your health," then frowned as the liquid sloshed slightly over the rim. ". Now I'll have to make another copy of that page." "Your taxes?" asked Natalie, being very careful not to spill any more of the liquor on the neat, white piles of printed paper as she lifted the glass to her lips. "No. Although they could easily belong here--they're just as much fiction as the rest of this lot." Janette blotted the stain with a cocktail napkin, then eyed the spot thoughtfully. "Ah well, it's only Nicola's copy. He won't care." "Fiction?" Natalie's eyes widened as she glanced over the piles. "But I thought I was on the list to get all the fiction? None of this looks familiar." "Of course not. This is the . . . more sensitive material." Janette picked up the blotted page and waved it lightly in the air, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Yes, I think that's the best description." Natalie picked up one of the stapled copies and scanned down the first page quickly. "I don't see anything--" Her hand a blur, Janette snatched the pages from Natalie, flipped through them quickly, then returned them to Natalie's possession, indicating the top of a page with a well-manicured fingernail. "I think if you start there--just at the top?--and keep reading." "Where should I stop?" asked Natalie, suddenly realizing just how many pages she held in her hands. "Oh, I think you'll know when to stop." The superior look on Janette's face was irritating. Just to prove her wrong, Natalie slid onto a barstool and began reading where Janette indicated. Almost immediately, her stomach dropped to the level of her toes--it was about her and . . . LaCroix? Just when she thought that she'd reached the worst of it, there always seemed to be another line or paragraph that gave her innards a twist. And then she reached that one line-- She wasn't quite certain, but she was pretty sure the very small and stunned, "Eeep!" she made was the sound Janette had been waiting for. The papers were torn from her hands and the shot glass took its place, as Janette commented, "Yes, I think that's just about enough. Sip, don't gulp." Natalie was happy enough to take the advice and sipped at the glass of Scotch, stunned by what she'd just read. Horrified, she watched Janette briskly staple and stack set after set of those . . . things. "How long has this been going on?" "Since before you were born, . Although I've never held much with the apple story. Fig leaves would never have been adequate covering. And they're so --one would think Eve would have had a bit more fashion sense--" "No, I mean ." Once again in possession of her senses--and a shot glass of Scotch in her belly--Natalie slid off the bar stool and gestured toward the stacks of paper. "How long have you been doing this?" "Only since the last time. It used to be Alma's chore, but the silly thing got the piles mixed up and Nicola received LaCroix's set in error." Janette sighed and touched her fingers lightly to her hair, which was pulled back from her forehead. "There was a scene. The idea of him and LaCroix . . . well, it didn't sit well. Not well at all." Natalie gulped and lifted her Scotch glass to her mouth, but was disappointed to find it empty. "Nick and . . . LaCroix?" she echoed, in disbelief. "He threw the lot at Alma--she was terribly upset. He brought back ." Janette looked up from her sorting and removed the empty glass from Natalie's frozen fingers. "Another drink?" Without waiting for an answer, she carefully refilled the glass and replaced it in Natalie's hand, then added, "Well, everything. He didn't bring back the stories about you and I." "You and--?" The glass was almost to her lips when Natalie froze again. She cleared her throat and shook her head slightly, certain that she'd misheard. "Did you just say--?" "He'd never asked for those before," continued Janette, seemingly oblivious to the effect of her latest bombshell. "I suppose he'll want them now, though. Men seem to like that sort of thing." "You and--?" Natalie downed the Scotch in one gulp and closed her eyes as she placed the empty glass on top of the bar, hoping that the burning might bright her back to herself. This to be a dream, right? Her eyes opened quickly as Janette took the glass from her hand. "I said sip, gulp. You must be very thirsty." Janette smiled and raised the glass. "Another?" "No--" Natalie choked on the burning in her throat. Coughing lightly into her hand, she waved her other hand at Janette until she managed to get her voice back. "No, thank you." "Hmn. Pity." Janette sighed and dropped the glass out of sight behind the bar, then continued to sort out the fiction. "I never thought to mention this to you--I never thought you'd be interested. You aren't, are you? Interested?" Not altogether certain what the question was, Natalie swallowed and shook her head. "No!" Then, as Janette aside, trying to hide her predatory smile, Natalie cleared her throat again and said, more calmly, "No. I'm not. Thanks just the same. I mean, I can't keep up with the stuff, never mind this--" Her gesture included the length of the bar, which seemed to be covered with paper. The sheer volume of the fiction gathered there suddenly hit her--or it could have been the Scotch--and she leaned back on the bar stool weakly. "And you read all of this?" "Not ," admitted Janette, with a shrug. "The stories about Nicola and LaCroix are amusing . . . occasionally. Some of the others. The only things I don't bother with are the stories about you and Nicola." Very carefully--it to be the two Scotches--Natalie rose from the stool and wrapped her fingers around the edge of the bar. "Nick and--?" "They're usually very romantic--flowery, tedious things. Sentimental." Janette wrinkled her nose at the thought, still concentrating on her work. "Sometimes he brings you across, sometimes you cure him--" she shrugged with a dismissive air. "Although there was one where I got to fight you for him. Now had possibilities." Natalie was only half-listening, her eyes fixed on the mountain of paper. "Do you, uh, think I might see some of those? From a purely scientific perspective, of course." Janette glanced up at her, expression blank. "You said they've mentioned cures? Well, there might be something in there that I've missed. As in a cure. Or something." Her expression still carefully neutral, Janette turned to one side and picked up a stack of papers. She hesitated a moment, then shrugged and put them on the bar. "I can give you Nicola's copies for now; he won't be by until after sunset and I can have Alma run him another set. Or I tell him to pick up the copies from you . . . ?" "No!" said Natalie, again just a bit too quickly--Janette's sharp smile told her that much. She picked up the pile of papers and held them tightly against her chest, afraid that Janette might change her mind. "No, I might need to, uh, refer to them again. Research. You know. And maybe we shouldn't bother Nick with me, uh, having copies of this stuff. It might make him . . . uncomfortable." "It ," conceded Janette, after a brief pause. She gestured toward the steps. "You can let yourself out?" "I--uh--yes. Sure." Natalie hurried up the steps to the landing at the door. Once there, she turned. "Thanks for telling me . . . about Nick. That he's safe." "My pleasure." Janette finally looked up at her, the predatory smile back in place as she lifted a stapled set of pages and shook it slightly. "In any case, that's what the stories --" Natalie slipped out the door and back into the sunlight as fast as she could. Only after the door closed behind her and she leaned against the brick front of the Raven did she stop to catch her breath, heart pounding. Not that holding a good five pounds of paper against her chest helped. Straightening, she tucked the wad beneath her arm and headed for her car, taking comfort in the fact that Nick was safe until sunset. And that sunset was still several hours away. Five pounds of paper meant she had a lot of reading ahead of her and it seemed she had some catching up to do. A of catching up to do. *********************************** The End (Semi-seriously dedicated to the list-member who recently sent me a post asking me to send a copy of all my FK fic . . . but only the stuff that had any sex in it.)