Date: Sat, 24 Oct 1998 21:42:18 PDT From: Lori Dehn Subject: In Perspective (01/01) To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu I've been kicking around this for a few days. And now with the recent debates about BMV, I have a hook. Here goes. Before anyone jumps down my throat, this is my opinion of LC's perspective. Just the fevered imaginings of a pregnant woman's hormonally charged brain. If you like it, send me candy! If you don't, direct letter bombs, flying rats, and flaming stakes to the Westboro Baptist Church. (Even LaCroix wouldn't picket a the funeral of a murdered boy.) <> I don't own anybody. I just own this story. Mel has complete posting freedom for fkfanfic.com. Anyone else, please ask. This does go along with A Richness in Her Smile and A Sweetness in His Pain. In Perspective by Lori Dehn He stood atop the gothic facade of the police precinct, and watched them. His son escorted her, his hand on the small of her back, leading her to the Cadillac, placing her in the passenger seat. "Always chivalrous, Nicholas," the general whispered. The blond man circled the car to seat himself behind the wheel. LaCroix smiled wryly, remembering the first time Nicholas had driven a car, one of the early horseless carriages of the late last century. With the seat so far forward, there had been nothing to stop Nicholas from pitching forward and flying into a tree when he came to an abrupt stop. His father imagined that was part of the reason for the Cadillac, open like that carriage, but with a long, long hood in front of him. But Nicholas hadn't stopped driving, he thought. Janette did so seldom, much as she had with riding. Her car was as much an accessory to her as her horses had been, for his daughter always picked horses whose coloring flattered her own. LaCroix, however, had given up mortal transportation with the passing of the horse as the favored mode. He maintained that driver's licensing was an unnecessary invitation to scrutiny by mortals, not to mention the difficulty of finding a licensing bureau open after dark. He always puzzled that his children believed that. It was a toothless argument when one considered Aristotle's many talents. Both of them had obtained their licenses thus. In reality, LaCroix had enjoyed riding horses, one small everyday act which had not changed since his days in the Emperor's army. The feel of the beast, the feeling of control had appealed to the man, and although he was a greater beast now, with control beyond that of anyone living or undead, he missed that connection. It was not the same with these machines. And so, he dismissed them. As the car pulled away, LaCroix lost himself in a moment of self-examination. It was not the norm. So often it was Nicholas' mind he picked apart. But it must be done. This was his habit, he realized, to dismiss what he did not understand, or did not desire. And it was a habit so ingrained he had long ago ceased to realize when it was not working. But he no longer had any choice. Natalie would not be dismissed. LaCroix had sensed Natalie's presence in Nicholas' life when she had entered it. It had not been the jade cup which had brought him to Toronto, but Natalie. He had sensed the growing attachment his son felt toward her, and knew that it was time to reassert his influence. Their confrontation had been only too perfect, allowing Nicholas to fester in his own guilt for a time before he returned. But the dinner at Azure... That was a Valentine's Day he would remember throughout eternity. For it was the day he realized there was a greater power in Nicholas life than him. And it was the lushly beautiful doctor. Why had Nicholas bothered to try to fool him? It did not matter. Even if he had not been able to sense his son's desperation to save the young woman then, he had been sensing the growing need for her for years. And that gesture had said more about her importance to Nicholas than a declaration. Certainly Nicholas had defied him before, but he had never attempted to beat his father at his own manipulative game. That was the moment LaCroix had seen the perfection of the situation presented him. He had this small victory in his son's underhanded attempt to save this woman. He would force Nicholas to deny his love for her. And Nicholas would still believe he owed his master the life of the woman he loved. All for Fleur. But Fleur was worth that and more. She was the one bright star in the darkness that had been his life for two thousand years, the sun around which he revolved. And Nicholas would never know how different their lives could have been, for as much has LaCroix had tried to force his son to his own will over the centuries, Fleur could have changed the general with a word. If Fleur had asked that her brother be allowed to seek his cure, Nicholas might well have been mortal four hundred years ago. And LaCroix saw the same love reflected in Nicholas' eyes every time he spoke of Natalie. And that was why he knew he would never have to exact his price from his son. Nicholas would never be able to kill Natalie. Not for his pleasure, not for himself. Not even if she asked it of him. Fleur would be as clearly in Nicholas' mind as she was in his own, and the argument he made to save his sister's life would forever ring in his son's own ears. Damning him to the same pain he had inflicted on his father. LaCroix stepped off the edge of the building, taking flight. The wind rushed along his body, ruffling the linen of his suit. He had wondered why his son had remained so close to the doctor after that. It only made the pain more acute. LaCroix knew. He had felt it each time they were together. And yet, together they remained. They grew closer. And that, he knew, was Natalie's doing. It occurred to him that perhaps she did remember that night. As it occurred to him that perhaps she would not mind having the disease she tried so hard to cure. That, he thought, might be confidence in her own abilities. If she was sure enough that she could find a cure, why not court danger. Nicholas would not let her die, and if she were brought across, given enough time, she could cure herself and Nicholas. LaCroix scowled. There would be no cures. But another daughter...perhaps. He would have to keep his mind open to that. It was all a matter of keeping things in perspective. It would be better to share Nicholas than to lose him. After all, Nicholas was his only link to Fleur. Lori Dehn Dark Knightie 'n Nat Packer with definite Ravenette and Vaquera tendencies and just a smackerel of Cousin for "flavor" ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com