Date: Wed, 5 Feb 1997 15:40:33 -0500 To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com From: hlmarkle@pop.mhv.net (Heather L. Markle) Subject: UNSUITED ****************************************************************************** Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. You all know you they belong to. The story is mine. This is just amateur fiction. No body is making any money off it. Blah, Blah, Blah. This IS my first fiction posting anywhere! Please be gentle. Comments, feedback and hand grenades to hlmarkle @mhv.net ****************************************************** Unsuited Challenge "Hidden Connections" Copyright (c) 1997 by Heather L. Markle. All rights reserved (whatever that means). LaCroix stood in the elegant lobby of the opera house, letting the sounds of the crowd wash over him. He had said once that music was the one thing that mortals excelled in and once again he was struck by the irony if it. The night's presentation, `Tosca' was his favorite of Puccini's work. He personally related to the Baron Scarpia and his message in `Ha piu forte sapore': violent conquest is more pleasurable than romantic love. With a frown, he thought of Nicholas and his absurd quest for mortality, fueled by romantic love. Bah, he thought, what a waste. He once again felt the impatience he always felt whenever his thoughts turned to his wayward son. LaCroix's eyes lost their focus as he remembered the times he and Nicholas would go to the opera together. Love of music was something they had shared. He remembered the last time they went, in Vienna.... ******************************************************** They slowly passed through the crowded lobby, moving towards the composer to congratulate him. "That was wonderful," Nicholas exclaimed. "I don't know when I have laughed so hard". "Indeed, that was delightful" LaCroix agreed. Nicholas began humming an infectious melody from the last act. Smiling, LaCroix joined in. How long had it been since they had sung together? he thought. How long since they had had a civil conversation? Lately it seemed all Nicholas could do was argue and show distain towards him. LaCroix knew that Nicholas was thinking of leaving him and he was grateful for this evening of companionship. "Jeanette would have enjoyed this" LaCroix fixed Nicholas with a hard glare "Nicholas, I have forbidden her from attending the opera and you know it." "You still haven't forgiven her for what she did at LaScala, have you?" "Nicholas!" he said sharply. "I would have thought you would have found that very amusing. The way she killed the Soprano right before she was to make her entrance. And how Jeanette, drunk with her blood, went out and tried to sing the lead's part." he snickered. "Nicholas! It is NOT funny. We were lucky to escape in the confusion." ********************************************************* "Excuse me, don't I know you?" LaCroix became aware that someone was speaking to him. He looked to see a short, slightly overweight man wearing a trenchcoat. He recognized him - Don Schanke, Nicholas' partner. With him was a woman of similar age and build, with a kind face. LaCroix frowned slightly, "No, I don't think so." The man persisted, "I never forget a fa..I know! You're a friend of Nick's, yaaaa, over at that club, with Janet!" "Jeanette." "Right, Jeanette." He looked pleased. "This is my wife, Myra," motioning to the woman. "Myra, Mr. . . . " "LaCroix" "Pleased to meet you Mr. LaCroix." She offered her hand, which LaCroix shook. "So what did you think, did you enjoy the opera?" inquired Schanke. Bemused LaCroix answered "Yes, I did. Tosca is one of the greats. I enjoy it's themes: Jealousy, Lust, Betrayal. " "Greed, Murder" Schanke, agreed nodding. "It's really a complex study of humanity's darker side, ya know?" LaCroix was intrigued. He was hardly expecting an answer like this from this mortal. He seemed so ordinary. Myra spoke "We have been discussing whether it is Tosca's love or her jealousy that causes her to turn into a killer. What do you think?" "It is her jealousy that gets her into the situation, but I think it is self-preservation which actually prompts her hand." LaCroix answered. " That's way Myra says", contended Schanke. "But I think that if she wasn't in love, she wouldn't have rejected Scarpia, which is what made him want her in the first place." LaCroix was pleased with the conversation. " Would you like to join me for a drink to continue this?" he offered. "That would be nice, but we have to get home to our daughter" said Myra. "How 'bout the cafe' here?" Schanke said. "We could stay for a few minutes." LaCroix walked with them down to the theatre café. I surprised him how much he enjoyed the next half-hour. He hadn't had such an agreeable exchange with a mortal since that train ride in Germany, and that was 70 years ago. Nicholas always did have good taste in his companions, except for that dreadful coroner. All to quickly it seemed Myra said "We have to go". "Really?" "Yes, the baby-sitter and all" "Of course," said LaCroix. "This has been quite pleasant. Maybe we will meet here again?" "That would be nice, but we don't get to go to the opera too often, Mr. Lacroix," Myra answered. "Yah, it's a little pricey on a cops salary, ya know?" LaCroix smiled. "I understand, Mr. Schanke." "You can call me Don" Said Schanke, grinning. Nick's friend was little odd, he thought, but a nice guy once you got to know him. Heck, so is Knight for that matter. He and Myra said their goodbyes and started to go. "It was really nice talking to you Mr. LaCroix, hope we get to do it again sometime" "Don," began LaCroix. Schanke turned around, "Yah?" *Don't tell Nicholas about this* Schanke nodded, silently, then he brightened. "Goodbye, LaCroix" he said with a friendly wave. Then they left. Epilogue: Three weeks later: Schanke came into the squad room and started going through his mail. He was in the middle of his weekly rant about the Police Gazette being late when he noticed an unusual looking envelope addressed to him. Opening it he found two tickets and a note. Shrugging he read the note: Dear Mr. Schanke, I would be honored to have you and Myra join me at the opera for La Boheme and dinner afterwards. Regards, LaCroix Schanke picked up the phone and dialed. "Myra, it's me. Hey honey, guess what came in the mail today . . . " The End