Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 00:08:36 -0400 From: Sharon Scott You know who you are. And you know why. ;-) Give Pink A Chance (1 of 2) by Sharon S. Scott "Knight! This one's for you!" Nick didn't look up from his pc screen when Tomlinson yelled. "I'm busy--can't it wait?" "Nope. Hop to. You're not in Homicide any longer, you know." Nick sighed. "Okay, just a second." When he'd saved his work, he got up and turned toward the front desk. A woman with long brown hair and glasses was standing on the other side, looking perplexed and a bit angry. A woman he knew from several previous encounters. It wasn't time for *another* war, was it? Couldn't be. He hadn't recuperated from the last one yet. He opened the gate and ushered the woman to the desk he was occupying. As she seated herself, he asked, "So what is this time?" "Why aren't you in Homicide any more? I had the devil of a time finding you." "It's a long story." "I've got time and I love stories. Especially long, involved ones. Spill your guts." "Dereliction of duty, Reese called it." He shrugged. "I flew away from the crime scene one time too many and he was pissed off at the water cooler, so here I am for two weeks." "Serves you right. You're always doing that, you know." "I've been forcibly reminded, thank you. So what's your problem?" "I'd like to report what I think is a crime, although I'm not sure if it's a felony, a misdemeanor, or just very malicious mischief." "And that crime would be?" "I've been pinked." Nick sighed again. "Look, I've got work to do." The woman got his attention by standing and turning slowly in a circle. "Look at me. Do you see any color other than pink on my body? I am a fantasy in pink. A veritable plethora of pink." She sat again. "And you think this is a crime--a serious enough crime to come to the police station to report it? Give me a break." "Everything I put on turns pink. These pants were black when I put them on this morning. My sneakers were black when I put them on this morning. The black FORKNI-L t-shirt I put on this morning has turned into Pepto-Bismol. There's something very wrong with a pink FORKNI-L t-shirt. It shouldn't be pink. It's a travesty. It goes against nature." "It does look rather strange." "You're damn right it looks strange. It's worse than strange. It's just too weird. But it gets worse. Everything I touch slowly turns pink. My computer, my car, my camera. They're all turning pink. Even my dog is beginning to take on a decidedly pink tinge. And I hate pink. I despise pink. Pink gives me headaches and stomachaches and makes me break out in a rash." "So what do you think is causing it?" "I think somebody put a curse or spell or something on me. Some force is draining away all colors other than pink from everything I touch." "And when you thought of draining, you thought of me." "Not likely. No, wait, wait! I didn't say that to offend you, I just thought you could get in touch with LaCroix. Maybe he's seen this kind of thing before and knows a cure, or knows somebody who knows a cure. Would you help me?" He looked at her for a long moment. "I'll help. But it'll have to be after my shift. They're making me punch a time clock." "It's probably good for your soul." "You wanted my help, right?" "Yes. I'm sorry. I do need your help." "Okay, then. Here are the keys to the Caddy. Wait for me." "In the Caddy? Do I have to?" "What *is* this thing you have about my car? Had you rather wander the streets? Or sit here and watch me work for a couple of hours? I might be able to arrange for you to wait in a cell, if you'd like." "I'll wait in the Caddy." ****************** She had tried to sleep. Tried to read. She'd fiddled with the radio. She wondered again why he didn't buy a tape deck or a CD player. In boredom, she took a pink pad and pink pen out of her pink purse and started writing down everything she hated about the Caddy. She was still writing when she heard someone yell "Damn!" Nick was standing beside the car, staring at it. She rolled the window down and looked an inquiry at him. "It's turning pink!" "Now do you believe me?" she said, with an air of satisfaction. "Unless you've got several cans of spray paint concealed on your person somewhere, I do." He opened the car door. "The upholstery isn't pink." She couldn't resist. "No, it isn't pink. Yet." She rolled the window up as he got in the car, then tore several sheets of pink paper off the pad and handed them to him. "What is this?" "Just some educational material. Read it later. Take me to LaCroix now, please." ********* Continued in part 2 Scottie scotts@baylor.edu or sss44@aol.com Give Pink A Chance (2 of 2) by Sharon S. Scott "Ah, Nicholas! You've brought me dessert." "LaCroix, this is ... " "I *know* who this is. And I know what she does. What I don't know is why you've brought her to me." "She says she's been pinked." LaCroix's eyebrows rose higher than even Nick would have thought possible. "Indeed. And may I inquire what that entails?" "She says--" "Does she not have a tongue? Let her speak." She spoke. "I've been pinked." "Yes, dear, that's what Nicholas said. Please explain." She explained. LaCroix stared at her. She stared at Nick, who was staring at LaCroix. She ventured a question. "Have you ever seen this before?" "Never." "Then I guess we're wasting your time." LaCroix smiled. "Perhaps you should give pink a chance. It's a lovely color on you--brings out the roses in your cheeks." She glared at him. "I thought white roses were more your speed." LaCroix glared back. "Are you quite certain you wouldn't care to be dessert?" "I'm certain." She decided it was a really good idea to change tactics. "May we start again?" "Yes, insulting me is not the most effective means of getting what you want. Correct, Nicholas?" Nick, looking extremely uncomfortable, answered, "Correct." "I asked him to bring me here. It wasn't his idea. I wanted to know if you've ever seen this problem before. You say you haven't. But do you know anyone who might have? Or anyone who might help me?" "Oh, I didn't say I couldn't help." "Then you *can* help me?" "Perhaps." "Will you?" "Maybe." The thought crossed her mind that if Nick had had to put up with this for nearly eight centuries, he could be excused a bit of circular thinking. She gritted her teeth. "Will. You. Help. Me." "Only if you'll make and keep a promise." "What's the promise?" "Will you?" "I don't make promises until I know what they entail." "A laudable sentiment." Maybe she could learn, in time, to *like* pink. "Would you tell me what you want?" "Of course. I wish you to write a story wherein I am the hero." She thought. And thought some more. It was possible. After all, she wrote fiction. "I promise." "Repeat the promise." "I promise to write a story with you as the hero." "Cross your heart?" LaCroix smiled. "If you think it's necessary." "Oh, it's not necessary. But it would amuse me." "Well, then, I cross my heart." "Good." He reached behind the bar for 2 glasses. "A drink, to seal the bargain. Don't look so uncomfortable. This is a bar--we've got something for everyone." "I'd rather hear the solution to my problem." He poured himself a glass of dark red liquid and took a drink. "It's simple." "Simple?" "Quite simple, actually." He took another drink. "You see, I know a great deal about you. I know you have a certain ... fondness ... for Janette. I understand. I'm quite fond of her myself. Nicholas is, as well. Aren't you, Nicholas?" "I am." "Janette. Once my daughter. And except for that one incident, where she disappointed me greatly by becoming mortal, she hasn't been around for a year. Children can break your heart, can they not, Nicholas?" Nicholas answered quietly, "I have no children." "Except Janette. Which, I suppose, makes me a grandfather." LaCroix refilled his glass. "Yes. And then, after being returned to the fold, she left again. To find herself again, she said. I miss her. Do you?" "Yes." "Have you been thinking of her a great deal lately?" "Yes." "That's your problem. Janette helped to color your world, as she did ours. Without her, your colors fade to black, or to pink, in your case." "So what's the solution? Am I doomed to an eternity of pink?" "I think not. I know where she is. She doesn't want to see Nicholas yet. She hasn't forgiven him for bringing her back across. She may, in time." "Do you think she'll agree to see me?" "Possibly. I'll attempt to arrange it, after you've completed the story." "*After* I write the story?" "After. I'm not a kind person. I require payment in advance." "Somehow I'm not surprised." "I didn't think you would be. But a promise is a promise, is it not?" "It is." "Now go away and write. If you'd like, you may use my computer." Using Rosebud's computer was not something she even wanted to consider. "I think not." "As you wish. I'll be waiting." With an air of dismissal, LaCroix turned and went into the apartment behind the bar. She looked at Nick, who shrugged. She tried, but couldn't bite back, "*You* were a big help." "He has the uncanny ability to make me feel about twelve years old." "I noticed." "I did what you asked. I brought you to him." "Yeah, thanks. Want to help me write the story?" "Not bloody likely." "That's what I thought." And brow furrowed in thought, she followed Nick out of the Raven. The beginning. :-) ******************** Scottie scotts@baylor.edu or sss44@aol.com