For old time's sake. ------- Holiday Greetings From The Road by Imajiru imajiru@mindspring.com imajiru@unicorn-x.net 12/24/96 ------- It was raining; not snow, but rain. Hardly picturesque for a Christmas Eve, but -- practicality won out again -- much better for driving, especially the kind of long-haul driving that she'd been doing. Holidays were for family and friends; she had almost no family left, and as for friends... well, ever since that one chapter of her life had come to a close, she hadn't given thought to such matters. She was just as glad to be moving, traveling, not stopping to watch the parents and children clustering at the malls, eagerly preparing for the season... but even so, the bright colors of the lights twinkling through windows attracted her attention, luring her eyes from the taillights of the cars on the highway ahead of her, and making them burn and sting with unshed tears. At twilight, her companion had emerged from the padded compartment they'd rigged at the rear of the van -- a custom machine, or so its previous owner had termed it proudly, boasting about the refitting he'd done. Such a nice boy, he'd given them a ride almost all the way to the border... and then had thought to take liberties with his passengers, had imagined that a secluded bit of road and the fact of the night's darkness would conspire to allow him to 'get lucky'. In that his shallow roadside grave was located in a rather picturesque spot, perhaps one might interpret events to say that he'd gotten his wish. Now, having accomplished the aim of their visit, they'd crossed back into the States and were heading south, to warmer ground. In the passenger seat, her companion sat still and silent, almost but not quite shivering from a chill that had nothing to do with the cold air outside the van's windows. Nat sighed. "Janette," she said quietly. "Mmm." The response was soft, vague, as if her thoughts were elsewhere -- and of course they were, Natalie thought; in a gaily decorated house in Montreal, where a fair-haired young man examined his still-wrapped gifts carefully to see if any of them might be the new Sega system he wanted... "He's all but forgotten me, you know." Janette's voice was very matter-of-fact, addressing Nat's thoughts as if they'd been said aloud. "I think it's for the best." And her tone was light, almost playful, as if it didn't matter to her. "Probably," Nat agreed, and let her eyes slide sideways long enough to take in the oh-so-brief flicker of pain on the other's face. "He will grow to live a normal, human life, without interference. That is for the best. What, after all, could I offer him? Nothing that might compensate for the things he would lose, if he were to learn the truth about me now." There was an edge of steel to Janette's voice, hiding beneath the elegant accent, a tone that Natalie recognized: it was the sound of a decision made and implemented, even though disliked, because it was simply the only reasonable thing to be done. "But... I sometimes think..." Her eyes took on a faraway look, gazing through the windshield at nothing. "I consider that perhaps I might return and visit him when he is grown, and see the man he has become... and perhaps find some echo of the father in the son." "No!" Nat's response was automatic, involuntary, prompted by some instinctive horror at the thought of Janette, who had been 'mother' to this boy, returning to seek a very different role... "Your mortal prejudice," the other countered, without malice. "It is our way, Natalie, remember; our children are our lovers..." "Don't take me there," Nat said wearily, triggering the turn signal in response to a sign indicating an upcoming exit. The motel they settled into was neither shabby nor opulent, merely serviceable for their needs: Natalie fell onto the left-hand bed and was instantly asleep, not even hearing the sound of the shower as Janette made use of the facilities; she'd been driving since before dawn, and she was exhausted. When she awoke, some hours later, it was to find the rain pouring down in buckets outside, loudly enough to be heard through the heavy drapes, and over the sound of the television. The TV was the only light in the room: Janette was watching 'It's A Wonderful Life', the very end of it, sprawled on her stomach with her face not two feet from the screen, staring avidly. Ever since their reunion, Natalie thought, Janette had seemed to be the same person she remembered from the Raven, but she knew better to trust in appearances; and sometimes -- like now -- she caught glimpses of that other Janette, the one who had told bedtime stories to a young boy, and fallen in love with a mortal man. No matter how hard she might try to deny it, that woman still existed within Janette. Just as within herself, there still were traces of the Natalie who'd believed that her science and her faith could cure a vampire, could make her dreams come true... "For all the pain in my life, I would not trade it," she heard Janette say, with soft conviction in her voice. "Would you?" "No," Nat said truthfully, feeling the weight of that knowledge falling heavily on her soul. There had been good times, and there had been bad times, and all of them were hers; but they had changed her in some irrevocable way, as certainly as if she had been brought across. The darkness of that world would always be a part of her... "You have been my friend. For this, I am thankful." A lull in the storm left Janette's words hanging between them in the quiet of the motel room. "And so, I bought you... a gift. For Christmas." She pronounced the word as if it were something foreign and almost distasteful; but her smile as she produced the small box from her suitcase was genuine. Surprised and puzzled, Nat opened it -- and her lips quirked into a grin as she beheld her present. "Thank you," she said wryly, holding up the black satin bustier. "Just what I needed to promote proper posture while I'm driving." Janette laughed. "Don't be silly, Natalie; that's for when we reach Los Angeles. Live a little," she scolded merrily. "I can't wear *this*..." "Certainly you can. We shall find you just the right lace blouse, and it will be tasteful and yet alluring. Trust me, cherie," and Nat laughed and acquiesced. "I didn't buy you anything," she confessed, "I didn't think you would... well, I did buy something, but not for that..." She rummaged through her purse and found it, handed it over: a keychain she'd found at a truck stop while paying for gas one bright afternoon. She'd debated whether or not she should give it to Janette at all... "It reminded me of you," she said shyly. Janette examined the tiny raven with a small smile. "Plastic is ephemeral, but I shall treasure the thought." And then there was a soft knock on the door, and Natalie and Janette looked at each other with surprise and dismay, and no small amount of mutual paranoia. They went to the door together, and Natalie felt her pulse begin to pound when she saw who was standing there, yet she couldn't tell whether it was from pleasure or rage. "You," Janette said in a flat voice. Dejected, downtrodden, soaked to the skin and dripping on the grubby hallway rug, "Me," Nicholas agreed. "Can I come in?" The women traded significant glances and moved aside, and Nick trudged wearily into the room, still dripping. "I've been looking for you both for years now -- can I have a towel?" and Natalie threw one at him, wadding the corner into a tight knot so that when it hit him, he would feel it. It impacted with his jaw, and he caught it, wiped his face dry and blinked at them. "I'm sorry," he said, probably the only thing he could have said that could persuade either Nat or Janette to listen further. "I've made mistakes; I've hurt you both terribly. I'm not asking for forgiveness... only for the chance to prove to you that I can change." "At the very least, I needed to know that you're both alive and well, and... to wish you a happy holiday." He shrugged, seemingly casually, but his eyes were forlorn. Janette glanced at Natalie, and Nat saw the legacy of eight hundred years' of her experience with Nicholas coming to the fore: all the old history, the love and the hate and the resignation... she might not have had the same length of experience, but she knew the extremes, knew all the feelings so well. Including the look in Janette's eyes that said that she wouldn't, she couldn't turn Nicholas away, no matter how much she might want to... Natalie shared the feeling as well. "He says he can change," she said idly. "He has been known to say that before," Janette commented drily. "Ah, but he is so attractive when he's penitent," and Nat smothered a laugh. "It *is* raining outside," she pointed out. "Not a fit night for man or beast. Or even Nicolas. Oh, very well... it can't hurt to let him stay, just for one night." Nick was watching the back-and-forth, eyes holding tentative hope, sparkling now that it appeared that he would be allowed to stay; "Thank you," he said softly. "Nobody asked *you*," Nat chided him lightly, simultaneously reaching out to take his hand. There were a number of things she wanted and needed to say to him, many of them profane, but... not just now. It was Christmas Eve, after all. Janette took his other hand, and Natalie's free hand, and the three of them stood there together for a long moment, silently celebrating... it wasn't exactly a happy ending, but at least it was something. And outside, the raindrops became snowflakes, and drifted softly, silently, to the ground. ------- To my family, for the holidays...happy merry, everyone!