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From: DMGDeMosr@aol.com
Date: Thu, 19 Feb 1998 08:24:49 EST
To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com
Subject: ENDLESS TRAGEDY - 1 of 1

Hello, All. This short piece was dredged up by the unceasing
bad news about the events unfolding in Iraq - again. It takes
place in the near future - long after "Last Knight."
Nick, LaCroix, and company are the property of TPTB. If they'd
been mine, this would be fanfic about an ongoing TV series.
Unfortunately....

			ENDLESS TRAGEDY

		  Time: The Day after Tomorrow

	Another city, another job. Another life.
	Lucien LaCroix savored the lingering taste of his last
sip of blood as he gripped the microphone in front of him. It
was a late Wednesday night in Kansas City, only two months since
he'd arrived, and his talk show was going strong - even stronger
than in Toronto.
	"Welcome back, dear friends. I know what is on your
mind - what is on everyone's mind tonight. The war in Iraq has
resumed, with all the glorious, gory details that involves. Do
you have loved ones in Iraq?"

(Last night in Toronto)
	"Damn you, Nicholas!"
	LaCroix raised the twisted, wooden staff high, poised
to impale Nick. With a roar of unrestrained fury, LaCroix flung
the offensive weapon across the loft. "You think a simple play
of words will lull me into taking your life?"
	Nick cradled Natalie's dying body in his arms, crying
tears - real, salty watery tears - as he heard her heart beat
falter and fade. "I can't go on without her," he repeated.
	LaCroix stared at the unshuttered windows. "The sun will
be up soon. If you're adamant about ending it all, you'll have
to do it yourself..."

(Kansas City)
	Poor Nicholas. He'd actually tried to stand in the
sunlight. But fortunately, his rather aggressive instincts to
survive won out. He'd returned to the loft - burnt, weakened,
and frighteningly beaten. For two years, LaCroix had followed
his son across three continents, never coming in direct contact.
	Just watching.
	Nick found him two months ago, at the Kansas City
International Airport - in uniform, again. Nick had joined the
army.
	"My sympathies go out to those of you who will lose
their loved ones in the coming months." LaCroix paused for
effect. "War is a wicked old friend. A young man has sent me a
short poem, inspired, so he says, by recent events."

	"For the brighter future our children behold,
	We beat our plows into swords and guns.
	Animals skinned, not for clothes, but drums,
	Off we marched to war.

	"These games of living chess we played,
	Choosing our side, or was it chose for us?
	The escalation of violent passions -
	We did it all to win.

	"Burned in battle, we righteously ignored
	The chorus line of causes and costumes,
	And all the good intentions leading us
	Beyond our fondest hopes.

	"And last we fell ‘neath the crimson tide
	Of broken promises and broken bodies,
	The essence of our souls cast down,
	Never again to rise."

	LaCroix sighed. "Quite poignant. Whether we win this
war, or not..." He smirked at that. The odds were definitely
against Iraq. "...it really doesn't matter. The carnage is our
beloved, the violence a disruption, a means of tearing down
our future.
	"The road to Hell, alas, is paved with good intentions,
and the self righteous are leading the way."

			FINIS

	I'm feeling a bit dark and moody. Thanks for sharing
this with me...
	Send any comments, good or bad, to DMGDeMosr@aol.com