usual disclaimers.  permission to mel moser to archive.  this is in answer
to the holiday challenge that has been tossed about.  comments to
vampwrtr@aol.com

FOREVER KNIGHT

Christmas Challenge

for Molly

"The Lion of our Hearts"

Nick smiled to himself as he lugged the 14 foot tree out of the elevator,
and into his loft.  It was a large noble fir, which, after several other
failed strategic locations, wound up in the corner by the piano.  Once it
was settled, Nick stood back and admired the beauty and the scent of the
giant tree.

He looked at the old boxes on the floor, which contained the Holiday
decorations that had not seen the sparkle of night in over a century.  He
opened the top box and extracted an antique pink bow, its edges gold, made
from very fine silk ribbon.  He held it in his hand, staring at it.  The
ribbons had been in the box for over a century.

LONDON 1885

Janette put the final pink bow on the tree, and stood back to admire her
handiwork.  Nick approached her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed the
back of her head.

"It looks beautiful, Janette."

"Oui.  It does."

Janette turned to face Nick, her smile quickly disappearing.

"Nicolas, could you speak to him again?  Please?"

Nick stared into Janette's bright blue eyes for a few moments, and then he
stepped away from her.  What she was asking was a waste of time.  He turned
once again to face her.

"Janette, I think LaCroix has made his sentiments regarding the celebration
of holidays very clear.  He isn't going to change his mind."

Janette's face registered her disappointment, "He is our family, Nicolas.
I hate to think of him spending the night alone."

"Janette, the holiday has no meaning for him.  It's just another night."

"But, still--"

"--What, prey tell, is the meaning of this?"

LaCroix' voice was edgy, and when Janette and Nick turned toward the door,
they saw him glaring in the direction of the Christmas tree.  Janette moved
to him, taking his arm.

"Mon pere....isn't it beautiful?"

LaCroix pulled his arm away from her as he walked toward a window.  His
voice was cold and flat.

"Get rid of it, Janette."

"I thought," Nick interrupted, "that you were to be in Paris for the next
few nights."

LaCroix turned to face his son, "I changed my mind."  LaCroix once again
glanced toward the tree and the many gifts beneath it, "I want
this....despicable display of mortal sentimentality cleared away
immediately."

Before either of them could retort his command, LaCroix stalked out of the
room, and stormed up the stairs.  He went into his bedroom and slammed the
door shut.  Why would his children wish to participate in such a ridiculous
mortal holiday, if not for the reason of disregarding his wishes?

LaCroix pulled a key from his pocket, and walked over to his armoire,
opening it.  He gently removed two small boxes, each wrapped in elegant red
paper, and tied with the same pink and gold ribbon that Janette had used to
decorate the tree.  He held them in his hands.  It had been a moment of
weakness.  A silly moment of vulnerability that had overtaken him.

Had he become so disgustingly weak that mortals could influence him in this
manner?  A Roman General participating in a Christian holiday?  It was
preposterous.  A moment of insanity, nothing more.  He put the boxes back
into the armoire and locked the door.  There would be no acknowledgment of
such mortal indulgences from him.  Not now, not ever.

TORONTO 1998

Nick fingered the antique pink bow, as his reverie was shaken loose by the
sound of the loft engaging.  He set the bow down and concentrated on the
human heart beat in the elevator.  Natalie.  Nick smiled.

The elevator door slid open, and Natalie Lambert walked into the room.
Nick went to her and kissed her cheek.

"Nat....you're early."

Natalie looked slightly uncomfortable, "I'm sorry Nick, I'm afraid I'm here
now, because I have to bow out of our plans."

Nick's face fell slightly, but he tried to cover it, "Oh....well, we could
do it tomorrow, I suppose."

Natalie followed his gaze and spied the tree in the corner.  She almost
cringed; he bought it as a surprise for her, and now she was going to have
to disappoint him terribly.  Nat took a deep breath.

"Nick, It's a beautiful tree.......I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Nat, we really can decorate it tomorrow."

Natalie looked away, then finally at Knight, "Nick, I don't know how to
tell you this, but, I'm afraid I've decided to meet my sister and law and
the rest of the family in Vancouver after all.  I know we said we were
going to spend it together, but--"

"--No, no, you don't have to apologise.  It's fine, really.  I understand.
You don't have many opportunities to be with your family."  He looked into
her eyes, "I really do understand.  You should go."

Natalie smiled at him, "This will at least, make Janette happy, because now
you have more time to spend with her--"

"--Janette has gone to Paris for the holidays."

"Oh damn.  Nick......I.....listen, why don't I just call my sister in law
and tell her that I--"

"--Nat, no.  Go and be with your family."

"I don't want you to be here alone."

"I'll be fine."

Nat swallowed, she couldn't believe she was about to suggest it, but she
did anyway, "What about LaCroix?"

"He doesn't celebrate holidays, Nat."

There was an awkward silence in the room.  Finally, Natalie took Nick's
hands in her own.

"I really can call and cancel, you know.  I don't want you to just sit
here, alone, Nick."

"It's really okay, I haven't celebrated Christmas in over a century,
anyway.  We can always do it next year."

Nat looked into his eyes, "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."  Nick smiled in reassurance, "I have a lot to do anyway."

They looked at each other for a moment, both knowing that they were lying;
both knowing that none of it was about family obligations or other things
to do; both knowing it wasn't about promises or even about friendship.
Avoidance was simply the easier road.

Natalie kissed Nick lightly on the lips, "I'll see you when I get back, okay?"

Nick hugged her, "I'll be here."

He watched her as she walked over to the lift, stepped into it, and the
door slid closed.  He sighed as the lift engaged.  He walked back over to
the boxes of decorations, and he once again picked up the pink bow.

LONDON 1885

He knocked on the heavy mahogany door yet again, there was still no
response from the occupant within.  Nick knew his father was in the room.
He knocked louder.

"LaCroix......LaCroix, I know you're in there......"

Nothing but silence.  Shaking his head, he turned the knob, and let himself
into the room.  LaCroix was sitting ramrod straight in a chair by the
window.  The Ancient did not acknowledge his son's presence.  Nick moved
closer.

"Was it necessary to be so sharp with her?  She was only trying to make the
holiday special for all of us."

LaCroix continued to ignore Nick, so Nick moved to stand in front of the
chair, blocking his father's view through the window.  Slowly, LaCroix'
eyes moved up to stare into Nick's face, but he still said nothing.

"You hurt her feelings."

An involuntary but derisive snort escaped LaCroix' mouth, "Don't be
ridiculous, Nicholas.  I merely told her to take down the tree."

"No, you told her to clear away the despicable display, LaCroix."

"It is inappropriate for our kind to celebrate such an occasion, Nicholas.
I will not have such an homage being paid to mortal sensitivities in my
house."

"Your house?  You'll never get over being the General, will you?  You will
always want to control me, and Janette; forcing us to bend to your will.
I've had enough."

LaCroix stood quickly, almost knocking Nick down in the process.  The two
vampires held each other's eyes, finally, Nick looked away, and LaCroix
walked past him, moving to stand in front of the window.

"LaCroix....why must it be this way?  Couldn't we set aside our differences
for one night?  Is that too much to ask?  For Janette?"

LaCroix turned sharply to face the younger immortal, "For Janette's sake?"

"Yes.  You hurt her more than you know, when you negate the little things
that she does for you."

"It strikes me as an amusing notion, Nicholas, that Janette creates holiday
celebrations 'for me', and that you wish me to set aside our differences
for 'her' sake.  One would think that none of it ever involved you."

Nick glared at LaCroix, "Will you just for one night, allow her to have a
family?"

An eyebrow raised up in irritation, "A family?  My dear Nicholas, it is you
who deprives Janette from having the peaceful family she so desires, not
I."

"Why am I even trying to have a discussion with you?  It's a waste of time."

Before LaCroix could respond, Nick was out the door, having not only fled
the room, but also the premises.

end part 01
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TORONTO 1998

The full lips frowned in consternation.  He had been sensing the turmoil
and disappointment which had been emanating from Nicholas for several
hours.  It wasn't going away; instead, his favourite child was delving
further and further into his feelings of loneliness and separation.  If
LaCroix did not have such superior control, the sea of despair that was
washing over him, might overtake him.  He pulled the microphone close to
his mouth, and allowed his voice to flow with a soft velvety quality; a
quality that he knew would be soothing to most of his listeners.

"The celebration of Holidays, mes amis.  It is a concept as old as the
human race, I assure you.  Most of the early pagan ceremonies long ago
having faded to dust; enslaved only in the memories of historians and in
the whispers of mortals who walked the earth centuries ago.  Why become
dismayed, my children?  I promise you, in another two thousand years, the
holidays which you celebrate in this century will be long lost to
generations of new ideas, borne of those to come.

"But what is it about the Holiday season that spreads so much sadness and
discontent?  Do people really walk about with their heads buried in the
sand for the entire year, only noticing their unhappiness one day a year?
I think not.  I submit that the onslaught of clarity which seems to come
with the 'season of giving', is merely the voicing of our vulnerability to
weakness, surfacing with a roar for its annual trot out into the sunlight.
It is always there, just under the surface of our control, waiting to
emerge and rear its ugly head of doubt and guilt."

He paused, collecting his thoughts.

"And what is your weakness, gentle listener?  Do you depend upon others to
make you happy?  Or is it that you feel you have no one upon whom you may
depend?  Your feelings of loneliness and despair are unwarranted; you need
only to look, to find that one person to whom you may always turn.  The one
person upon whom you may always rely."

A smile curved the full lips.

"I assure you my children, the Nightcrawler will always be here.  And I
will always love you."

Nick glared at the stereo as he flicked the off button.  He could go visit
LaCroix.....no, no he couldn't.  He would not give into old habits.  Nick
turned his attention back to the tree he was decorating.  It was lit with a
thousand small white lights that he had entwined through its branches.  The
antique pink bows with the gold trim scattered throughout the boughs,
glistened in the reflection of the lights.  He put the last small bow on
the tree.  The only one which now remained, was the large one, which
belonged at the top.  At least that's where Janette had always placed it.
Janette.  He missed her.

He glanced at the phone.  It would be as simple as a call.  He could call
Janette.  She would come back and spend the holiday with him; he knew it.
But he shouldn't.  He had no right to interrupt her; she made her plans,
and he should just let it be.

Dejectedly, Nick flipped the large bow onto the coffee table, as he plopped
down upon the couch.  He heaved a sigh and let his eyes close.

LONDON 1885

Janette sat in the large room, staring at the tree in the corner.  The
beautiful tree she had decorated.  It stood in all its magnificence, alone;
with no one but her to admire it.  Another holiday that LaCroix and Nicolas
had managed to destroy.  A single tear rolled down her cheek.  She caught
her breath, as a finger gently brushed the tear off her cheek.  She hadn't
noticed his entrance into the room; he most likely had blocked her from
sensing him, and he had always moved with the grace and stealth of a cat.

With utmost tenderness, LaCroix turned her head up to face him.

"Tears, Janette?"

She looked away, "I'm not going to take it down, LaCroix.  The tree is staying."

She did not see the smile that appeared in his eyes as he spoke to her,
"Yes, I can see that...."

Janette stood abruptly to face him, the fire in her eyes quite apparent, "I
am sick and tired of the two of you ruining every moment within eternity
that should be treasured.  We are supposed to be a family.  Why can't the
two of you ever behave like it?"

An eyebrow raised, but that was the only sign of irritation.  LaCroix kept
his voice very even as he spoke.

"You know my feelings on the celebration of a Christian holiday, Janette....."

"Yes, yes, I know, 'it should be left to the mortals.'"

"Yes."

He moved closer to her, their bodies almost touching, but yet, there was
still space dancing between them.  Her eyes looked so sad.  LaCroix stared
into them, and a slight frown crept upon his stoic features.  He did not
wish to see her so upset, even if it was, in his opinion, of her own
making.

His voice was as soft as silk, "Where is Nicholas?"

"I don't know.  He was very angry with you."

LaCroix put a finger under her chin, lifting her face toward him, "And you,
Janette?  Are you still angry with me?"

"It doesn't matter.  Nothing will be altered by my feelings in the affair."

"Au contraire, Janette."

He held her eyes with his, and then placed a soft kiss on her lips.  As he
pulled away from her, he saw that some of the anger in her eyes had
dissipated.  He smiled, and headed toward the stairs, only turning when she
called to him.

"LaCroix?"

"Yes?"

"Won't you stay here with me for awhile?"

"I told you, Janette:  I will not celebrate mortal holidays.  Not even for you."

LaCroix turned and disappeared up the stairs.  Another tear appeared in
Janette's eye as she watched him go.

Nick spoke from the foyer doorway, "He'll never change, Janette.  It would
never occur to him to put your needs and feelings before his own.  It's
just the way he is; it's the way he's always been, and it's the way he'll
always be."

TORONTO 1998

Nick's eyes snapped open at the sound of displaced air.  He stood when he
saw LaCroix standing in front of the fireplace.

"LaCroix......why are you here?"

LaCroix looked at Nick for a long moment, then his gaze wandered over to
the tree in the corner, then back to Nick.  An eyebrow raised up, but he
said nothing.  Nick frowned slightly.  LaCroix looked......well, odd was
the only word that fit.  He seemed suddenly vulnerable in some fashion.
Nick took a tentative step toward the Ancient.

"Are you all right?"

LaCroix looked down at his hands, which were burdened by a wine bottle and
a small box, "Of course.....I am not the one who has been emanating
such......distress."

The two vampires stared into each other's eyes for a moment.  Nick sighed,
there was no point in trying to hide anything from LaCroix.

"Natalie was supposed to spend the holiday with me, but her plans changed."

Inwardly LaCroix felt a small tinge of hurt for his son, but all he said
was, "I see."

Nick looked at the small box in LaCroix' hand.  The gift looked quite old,
some of the wrapping paper having disintegrated with time.  One could tell
though, that it had been wrapped very carefully originally, in expensive
red paper, and it was tied with a cloth ribbon.  An antique cloth ribbon of
pink silk, with golden edges; the same ribbon that was now on Nick's tree.


"What is that?"

LaCroix looked uncomfortable, but extended the bottle, "This is a rather
special vintage, and I thought, given the.....occasion, you might join me."

"I was referring to the red box."

"Oh.  That."

"Yes, that."

LaCroix looked away, embarrassed, "It's nothing, really."

"It's hardly like you to acknowledge a mortal holiday such as Christmas,
LaCroix, much less show up here bearing a gifts."

LaCroix walked over to Nick's tree and set the box down under it, "This has
nothing to do with any ridiculous mortal frivolity, Nicholas.  I was
clearing out my trunk and found it.  I purchased it many years ago for you,
but never gave it to you."

"Odd how the ribbon matches the ribbon on the tree:  Janette's ribbon."

LaCroix was slightly irritated, "Are you going to join me in a glass or are
you going to continue insulting me?"

Nick smiled as his father poured the contents of the bottle into two glasses.

"I wasn't insulting you, LaCroix; I was only making an observation."

LaCroix handed his son a glass of blood, and once again, they held each
other's eyes.

"To absent friends...and family," Nick said.

A slight frown creased LaCroix' brow as he thought of Janette, and his
voice was slightly thick as he answered, "Yes."

Their glasses touched in the toast, and they sampled the blood.  Nick had
not had human blood for some time and the taste exploded upon his tongue.
He could not keep the smile which lit his features, from glowing.  LaCroix
was pleased with his son's reaction, but wisely, he said nothing.  Nick
walked toward the tree and picked up the box which his father had placed
under it.

"May I open it now?"

"If you wish."

Nick walked back toward LaCroix, and set his glass down on the table.
Carefully, Nick untied the old ribbon, setting it aside.  He unwrapped the
paper and then opened the box.  LaCroix said not a word, but he intently
watched his son's face as the delight washed over it.  Nick stared into the
box and then back at LaCroix.

"LaCroix.....I don't know what to say.  It's beautiful."

It had been over a century since LaCroix had seen it, and he smiled as Nick
gently removed the silver ring from its box.  It was a very heavy antique
silver, and had a crest across the top.  It was a lion leaping, his teeth
bared for battle.  Nick studied it, but couldn't place it.

"What is the significance of the lion?"

LaCroix' eyes took on a slightly far away look as he placed his glass on
the table and walked a few paces away.

His voice was very soft, "As you are already aware, Nicholas, in my days as
a Roman General, I commanded many armies into battle.  I was, shall we say,
rather successful at it, and often compared in combat, to a striking lion.
As a reward for one particularly successful campaign, the emperor had a
shield made for me.  It was quite intricate and very beautiful; it had a
lion leaping in the air, his teeth ready to strike.  I have always thought
of it as a family crest.  Some years ago in London, I paid a jeweler to
make two rings with a replica of the shield's lion on them."

"One for me and one for Janette."

"Yes.  Silly, really...."

Nick slid the ring onto his finger and walked over to face LaCroix.

"It's not silly at all, LaCroix.  It's one of the most touching things
you've ever done."  Nick's eyes were slightly moist as he continued, "Why
did you wait for over a century to give it to me?"

LaCroix pursed his lips, his emotions threatening to surface, "I don't know...."

Nick stared into the icy orbs of blue before him.  LaCroix damned well
knew, he just didn't want to say.  Nick chose to let it go, not wishing to
push his father's emotions any further.  Nick smiled as he took one of
LaCroix' hands tightly in his own.

"Thank you."

Embarrassed, LaCroix looked away, "I should go.  I would not wish to
overstay my welcome...."

Carefully, he looked at Nick; and so very much was being conveyed in his
eyes.  It wasn't only Nicholas who was feeling slightly vulnerable and
alone, though LaCroix would never have admitted it aloud.  Nick reached for
the large bow on the coffee table.

"I need help with this last bow.  I can't reach the top of the tree."

Their eyes locked in understanding, and in lifetimes of knowing, as LaCroix
gently took the bow from his son's outstretched hand.  Nick wasn't sure,
but for the briefest of moments, he thought he saw a tear glistening in the
corner of one of LaCroix' eyes.  He watched as his father, his mentor, his
closest friend, carefully attached the large pink bow to the highest bough
on the tree.  Nick's own tear filled eyes, glanced down at the gift his
father had given him; it represented so much more than the lion of battle.
To Nick, it would always symbolize the lion of his heart.

fin

end part 02
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