Date: Wed, 18 Dec 96 00:12:52 PST From: "Karen L. Kaufmann" Subject: CHRISTMAS: "Hey Martha Stewart, Here's One I'll Bet You Haven't Heard Yet..." To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com Return-Receipt-To: karenk@ketrontw.smart.net NEWBIE ALERT!!! This bit of fluff is the direct result of being put on night shift babysitting computer runs two weeks before Christmas, leaving me too much free time to play on the net. And, to coin a much-used phrase, it's my first attempt at fanfic. But I won't ask you to be gentle; just honest. Not only am I new to writing (but not reading!) fanfic , I'm new to this fandom as well! I've only seen half of season three, so anything that doesn't jive with the series canon can be chalked up to ignorance on my part. The time reference to 'Fever' (I guess this can serve as a SPOILER, if those are still in use!) was chosen at random, since I have no idea of the length of time between 'Fever' and 'Ashes to Ashes' (which I have yet to see). Besides, as I read in someone else's intro, certain portions of 'Ashes to Ashes' and *all* of 'Last Knight' never really happened anyway, so no worries! And after all, this *is* fiction, so whatever I say here goes -- for the length of this story, anyway. You've all heard it before, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Forever Knight, Natalie Lambert, Javier Vachon, Screed, Nick Knight, Tracy Vetter and Lucien LaCroix all belong to James Parriott, et.al. The story belongs, for the most part, to me. The beginning may sound suspiciously like 'House Call', by Apache. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, look this series up and read it. It's some of the best out there!) But I have, hopefully, diverged enough from that story-line. If I have stepped on any toes (and I truly did not mean to), please contact me at: karenk@ketrontw.smart.net with comments, complaints, etc. Or if you have anything else to say (Ben Bass' phone number, for instance), drop me a line. At this rate, my intro is going to be longer than the story (which doesn't deserve one *this* long!), so enough! Hey Martha Stewart, Here's One I'll Bet You Haven't Heard Yet... Natalie looked up from the chest cavity she'd been exploring to find a figure in black leaning on the opposite wall. She managed to keep her wits about her enough to prevent herself from jumping too noticeably; but she couldn't manage to keep her hands on the micro tape recorder she'd been using to take notes. It clattered to the floor, losing the cassette, the battery panel and both batteries. One battery rolled under the examination table and came to a stop against the visitor's black leather boot. //How the hell did he...Damn vampires, always sneaking up on you// she thought. She recognized this one from the time of the epidemic. In order to give herself time to recover, Natalie bent down to collect the recorder, the tape and the one battery remaining on her side of the table. She cursed silently when she discovered that the cassette had gotten caught on the recording head and had managed to partially unwind itself. "Well...Are you going to hold up that wall all night, or did you come here for a reason?" she said scathingly, her tone allowing her to regain a small sense of control over the situation. She made a move to retrieve the errant battery, but he beat her to it. Seeing his almost pained expression, Natalie felt guilty for her tone. Perhaps he was here with a genuine problem. But he composed himself instantly and rounded the exam table to her side. "I'm sorry if I startled you, Dr. Lambert," the vampire said, as he took the pieces of recorder from her. "May I borrow a scalpel?" he asked, moving to a relatively empty bit of table along the wall behind her. Natalie stared in disbelief at his leather-clad back. //Why should *any*thing They do surprise you at this stage of the game, kiddo?// she thought. She picked up a spare from her tray and walked it over to him. As he carefully rewound the tiny tape with the tip of the scalpel, the vampire continued, "I never did get around to thanking you for what you tried to do for Screed, and what you did do for me and the others." Natalie was so captivated by the procedure, that she failed to respond. As she watched, he carefully put tape and batteries back in the recorder and replaced the battery cover. His task finished, he turned back to face her again. Natalie cautiously wiped all trace of wonder from her face. She accepted the mended recorder from him, and placed it in her pocket. "You're welcome, er..." "Vachon." "Vachon. I'm sorry about your friend. Nick told me he didn't make it." "Thanks." Vachon said, distracted. He strayed aimlessly about the examination room, picking up things and carefully replacing them just as he'd found them. //Hmm. I thought that thank you was a bit late in coming. Must not be the primary reason for the visit. He's pretty nervous about whatever it is he wants to discuss. Tracy? Nick had mentioned that something might be going on between the pair them. Well, maybe my guest will get around to telling me himself if I'm not staring at him.// Very nonchalantly, Natalie picked up another scalpel and pretended to go back to her search for the bullet that had ended her patient's life. After several moments, she felt a light draft on the back of her neck. Vachon had materialized behind her and was leaning over her shoulder watching her pick fragments of shattered rib out of the lungs of the body in front of her. //What is it with these guys, anyway? Can't they ever ask a question? Getting anything out of them is like pulling teeth! Or, should that be fangs?! Well, not this time, bucko. You can stand there all night if you like--// "You missed a piece." Interrupted mid-mental diatribe, Natalie didn't quite catch his softly spoken words. "What?" He stepped around beside her and pointed to a spot on the left lung, careful not to actually touch the body. "You missed a piece." "Are you like this with Tracy, always into everything?" she exploded without forethought, "'Cause if you are, I don't see how she puts up with it!" //Oops! You said the magic word, Nat. I had no idea he could loose his cool like that!// Vachon had suddenly found the anatomy charts on the wall across the room much more riveting than the real thing. But before he'd bolted, she'd noticed that pained look again. //Okay Lambert, enough of the hardass routine. He's obviously got a real problem and doesn't know how to deal with it. And if it involves Tracy, somebody with mortal interests in mind ought to be in on it. It's plain to see that he's not going to bring it up, so...// "Vachon. I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said, as she put down the scalpel and removed her gloves. Mr. Taylor and his lungs were just going to have to wait. "I just can't stand people breathing down my neck while I'm working, that's all." Natalie came around and leaned against the wall on which the chart was hanging, facing Vachon once more. "You obviously have more on your mind than thanking me for something that happened 10 months ago. Want to tell me what it is?" His eyes shifted from the chart that he hadn't really been looking at anyway, and focussed on her face. Vachon stared at her for several minutes, considering his words. Some sort of silent verdict reached, he resumed his circuit of the room. The request, when it came, was delivered in barely a whisper. And since he was once again haunting the opposite side of the room, back turned, it came out in an unintelligible murmur. The only word she thought she could make out, was "turkey", but that had to be a mistake. "I'm sorry Vachon, I couldn't quite hear you. It sounded like you said something about turkey." Vachon reluctantly turned to face her again. If his previous expression had been pain, this one was all out agony. He took a breath, looked her straight in the eye, and said, "I'd like to know how to cook a Christmas turkey with all the trimmings." Silence...//This is the big announcement. This is the painful request it's taken him all evening to get out. It *has* to be a joke.// "Oh no, this can't be happening. This is a joke, right? Did LaCroix put you up to this?" she hurled at...no one. He was gone -disappeared- just like that. //Uh-oh. He really meant it. It must be pretty important to him and you just blew it off as a joke.// "*Wait*!" Natalie called, addressing the ceiling, for lack of a better choice. "Please come back!" A slight gust of air announced his return. Vachon's face was totally void of all expression, but his eyes were fairly burning. They were still their normal dark brown, she noticed with relief, but he was *not* happy with her or the situation. At least he had come back; that was a start. "Vachon, I'm terribly sorry. But you have to admit, it is a rather unusual request for a vampire." No reaction. "I take it this has something to do with Tracy Vetter?" Natalie ventured. Definite reaction this time; his eyes widened and his entire body stiffened. Then he slowly let out a long breath and relaxed again. He looked almost normal, except for a carefully constructed mask of utter boredom. The only betrayal of his true feelings was his inability to keep his eyes fixed on anything for more than a few seconds, most pointedly Natalie Lambert. //Definitely has to do with Ms. Vetter, then. He's suffering from one of the worst cases of 'casual disinterest' I've ever seen! Now, go easy on him. He's already flown out of here once tonight. Literally. Probably won't come back a second time.// "Alright. Never mind the reason why. This is going to take some work from both of us. Can I at least assume that you are really going to go through with this? That it's not just idle curiosity on your part?" Vachon only nodded, but at least he was looking at her again. "Okay. Do we have a date?" The fire in his eyes rekindled and he tensed. //Oh, great turn of phrase there, Nat!// "I meant, do you have a date set for the meal." He loosened up a fraction. "December 24th." Her eyebrows went up slightly, but she kept any other reaction to herself. "Well, that doesn't leave you much time, does it. Hmm. I guess it's safe to say that you've never actually cooked, or tried to follow a recipe before?" He was all eyes now, staring at her without even a blink. He slowly shook his head no. "Sooo. Now we know where we stand. If I write some things down for you -- some simple instructions -- nothing really complicated -- do you think you can follow them? It's going to require that you know your way around he- a kitchen." Vachon stood perfectly still, in that inhuman way that only vampires and blocks of stone seem to find natural. No trace of what was going on under that shaggy head of hair was visible on the surface. She was just about to wave her hand in front of his eyes to see if he was still with her, when Natalie noticed him look *at* her, instead of *through* her. He had obviously reached some kind of decision, as his body abruptly slouched in a somewhat defeated manner. "Okay. This is ridiculous. You're right. It is for Tracy." Natalie's expression was one part smug for guessing, one part astonishment that he'd actually told her. But whatever aspect she presented, he didn't like it, because the tension returned instantly. "I'm only doing this because her folks have been rotten to her again, and this is all she really wants! This doesn't mean *anything*!" //My, my, aren't we just a bit defensive. Wipe that look off of your face, Nat, or you'll earn yourself a lethal hickey!// "I never said it did, Vachon," she said aloud, in her most consoling tone of voice. "Let me guess, the Senior Vetters both have differing ideas as to where Tracy should spend Christmas, and she's caught in the middle again." He looked almost relieved at her comprehension. "On the nose, Doc. I happened to overhear a phone conversation the other night. I just thought it might be nice..." he trailed off, then switched tracks as the previous one had been heading towards some sort of emotional declaration. "The only problem is, I haven't exactly celebrated Christmas for some time, and when I did...well, let's just say that, even now, Christmas in Spain is a bit different from the type of Christmas Tracy's used to." "So, you came to me to find out what to do. Well, that makes it a bit easier for me to help you out. I'll tell you what. I've got to finish off Mr. Taylor over there, as well as three other, uh, patients. Give me tomorrow, or today actually, to think about this. Can you drop by here tonight and pick up the instructions?" A faint smile was her reward. "Sure. I think I can pencil that into my ever-busy schedule. And I promise to knock this time. Thanks." With that, he was gone again. Natalie stared after him for some time. Of all the weird things that had happened to her since her introduction to the Community, that had to have been the weirdest. Her sense of duty finally got the better of her, and she went back over to the sink to scrub-up again. Then she returned her attention to Mr. Taylor and what remained of his chest. Well, part of her attention, anyway; the remainder was busy compiling a mental list. //Turkey...dressing...I wonder if he has a gift?...egg nog... mistletoe -- Nick won't be happy about that one!...tree...// =///= Karen