From: EARaper@aol.com
Date: Sun, 24 Aug 1997 22:45:23 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: Still More!!! "Nunkies: A Story"

I wrote this little story as payment for a favor done for me by Cousin Jules.
 The "overheard phone conversation" is a paraphrase of an actual conversation
the two of had after the Sci-Fi airing of HoD.  Neither one of us cared for
it much; if you did, please forgive my bias against it.  Nick is a little
(ok, maybe a lot) stilted in this story.  My apologies to Knighties of all
colors and leanings; this was meant to be a "Nunkies" story, where LC is the
hero.  I think I did my job.

Nick and LC don't belong to me, but I had a lot of fun with them.  I return
them to TPTB in fairly good condition.

Send any nice comments, virtual chocolate and blond vamps with buzzcuts to
EARaper@AOL.com

Nunkies: A Story
by Anniebug

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
(Phone conversation recently overheard)

       "I really didn't like that ep.  It was so beneath him!"
      "Oh, I know.  I was in the kitchen when I heard that line and I said to
myself, 'He said *WHAT*?!  After it was over, I rewound the tape, and sure
enough, he said it!  'By getting naked!'  I can't believe it!  It's so ... so
*not* Uncle!"
        "You know, I've always pictured him in the library with a candlestick
and a rose reading to a sick .... no, that was Nick.  I've always pictured
Lacroix sipping port, listening to the classics in his smoking jacket.
 Something much more refined than that particular scene.  Ugh!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

        He slowly got dressed for the evening. First, the carefully pressed
pants, then the ruffled shirt with the onyx studs.  Dark brocaded waistcoat
and a frothy ascot placed at his throat just so, and held in place with a
gold and diamond sword pin. He adjusted his sleeves and put on the gold and
onyx cufflinks.  He put on his frock coat and reached for his red satin lined
cape.  He hesitated for a moment.  He so enjoyed the image he cut in his
formal eveningwear, but ever since that blasted Irishman's hideous novel, the
cape seemed so ... cliche.  And being cliche was so ... pathetic.
        He put it on anyway, and left his apartment for the evening.  As he
walked down the busy sidewalk, he felt very alone.  This was not unusual, for
frequently, for reasons of safety or convenience, the man traveled by
himself.  But what surprised the man, shocked him, actually, was that he felt
lonely, as well.  His sweet Janette was somewhere in Paris, no doubt shining
like the jewel she was.  His precious Nicholas was somewhere in this city,
brooding in his increasingly annoying guilt over the human life he must take
to live.  His beautiful creation, being so foolish. It was enough to drive a
saint to drink.  The man shook his head and continued down the sidewalk.
        He paused outside the flower shop he had taken to shopping at, more
for the petite blonde who worked behind the counter than for the quality of
their wares.  A rose for his lapel would set off his ensemble to perfection.
 And perhaps a rose for the pretty Julianna?  He was surprised by the flood
of warm emotions that filled him at the thought of the girl.  He smiled in
embarrassment; he could be her father, many times over.  To be feeling thus
over such a young woman was quite foolish for a cold hearted vampire.  It
would only lead to heartache.  He sighed and entered the shop.
        Julianna was busy assisting a customer as he walked into the shop.
She looked up at him when she heard the bells on the door jingle.  When she
recognized him, her small, sweet face lit up.  She had become quite enamored
of this charming and much older man and she spent her days longing for him to
visit the shop.  During slow times, when she should be doing other things,
she would fantacize about him rushing into the store, sweeping her off her
tired, aching feet and taking her away to the beautiful, luxurious life he
must lead.  She blushed a little at the thought.  "Hello, Mr. Lacroix," she
said with a smile.  "I'll be with you in just a moment."
        "Good evening, Miss Julianna," Lacroix said.  "Please, take your
time."  He nodded and smiled at the burly man for whom she was wrapping
flowers.  She took the man's money and bade him a good evening.
        "Now, Mr. Lacroix," she said as she moved from behind the counter.
"How may I help you this evening?"
        "I am looking for the perfect, blood-red rosebud.  Perhaps you have
it?"
        "I believe we do, Mr.Lacroix.  Let me check our stock. I won't be a
moment."  She smiled at him and moved towards the stock room.
        "Take your time, my dear.  And while you are searching, please look
for  a blush pink rose as well.  One that would just match your cheeks, I
think."
        The girl blushed and ran back to the storeroom.
        The man smiled and waited.  A customer came into the shop.  The man
was plainly out of place and plainly impoverished. And he was plainly a man
with ill intent on his mind.  /What is that man doing in here?  Rubbish such
as this should not be allowed to walk on public streets,/ Lacroix thought.
Perhaps he should do something about this particular peice of rubbish; a
little act of civic duty might actually be in order.  If the hooligan
attempted to harm his Julianna .... there would be no perhaps about it.
 Another customer approached the shop and entered, but Lacroix felt him
before he saw him, and he knew instantly that it was his precious Nicholas.
 Their bond spoke to him, even if his son was not.  
        Lacroix was too concerned with his errant child to notice that the
ruffian had gone into the store room.  "Hello, Nicholas.  Imagine my surprise
at finding you in a flower shop.  What *has* brought you in this fine
evening?"
        "Lacroix!" Nicholas hissed, his eyes turning golden yellow.  "What
are *you* doing here?  I could say the same to you.  Although I'm certain you
have thoughts that will come to no good end for that young girl.  You keep
away from her!"
        "I have no intentions of the sort.  I am quite fond of the child. She
reminds me in some ways of Fleur," Lacroix replied.
        "You can't.  You haven't a heart to be moved the way you claimed. You
can only bring mis..."  Nick stopped when he heard Julianna scream.  Both
vampires, for they were completely vampires at the sound of her scream,
rushed into the storeroom.  Nicholas grabbed the ruffian off of Julianna, who
was fighting back with all her small might, and quickly drained the man.
Lacroix picked up Julianna and settled her down on the storeroom stool.
 Clutched in one small hand was a perfectly blood-red rose, bent and broken. 
        "Oh, cherie.  Are you all right?  Did that man harm you?  If he did,
I'll make certain he breathes not another breath!" Lacroix said.
        "Your poor rose!" Julianna cried and fumbled with the broken flower.
 "I ...  he ...  no, I'm all right, sir." 
        "Good. Let's see if you can stand, eh?  That's a good girl," he said
as he helped her to her feet.  She saw Nicholas and gave a small squeak. He
was obviously distraught.  The two of them walked over to him.  Julianna
looked down at the dead man, fang marks still glistening with blood.  Lacroix
braced himself for the scream of fright or the step backwards in revulsion
that surely would follow, but she did neither.  She calmly looked up at
Lacroix.
        "Are you such as he?" she asked in a slightly quivering voice and
gestured at Nicholas.
        "I am," the ancient man said quietly.
        She reached out and clasped Nicholas on the arm.  He looked down at
her, self revulsion plain on his face.  "Thank you, sir," Julianna said.
 "You did a good thing.  I can tell you are a good man."
        "I am not!" Nicholas snapped.  "I killed that man!  I have vowed not
to take human life, and I broke my vow.  Curse you, Lacroix, for damning me
to this hell!"
        "But, sir," Julianna continued.  "If you had not killed that man, he
surely would have killed me.  Is it hell to have saved my life?"
        "Of course it is not, my dear." Lacroix interupted.  "It is as close
to heaven as anyone on this orb can attain.  Do get over you pious guilt,
Nicholas. It will be your undoing.  Now, Julianna, ma petite, I have
something I must discuss with you."  He led the girl away from Nicholas and
stood her in the moombeam that came through the high window.  "You are tired
of this life, are you not, my dear? You dream of luxury and ease and pretty
things, don't you?  I can offer you all this, and so much more.  I can offer
you a life eternal, where no mere human will ever dare enter your presence or
deign to command you without your permission. Or die for presuming to do so.
 It must be your decision, though, my dear.  I cannot make it for you.  Will
you join me?"
        This was almost too much for Julianna.  Here was this charming man,
no, vampire, doing just as she had dreamt, offering her a life beyond this
mundane, tiring world where all she would ever be was someone's chattel, fit
only for cooking, cleaning and breeding.  She looked up at Lacroix with
bright eyes and smiled.  "Yes," she whispered.  "I will."
        Lacroix smiled back at her with golden eyes and fangy teeth.  "I will
try to be gentle, my dear.  It won't last very long," he said as he brushed
her golden hair away from her neck and tilted her head to get a better
exposure of the vein.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
        Julie hung up the phone and bent over to pat Watson on the head.
 "Oh, you're such a good boy!" she said in that sing-songy voice that one
uses for pets and babies.
        "Thank you, my dear.  I do so try to be," Lacroix said from behind
her.  She startled, but smiled and slowly straightened up.  She turned to
face the man.
        "Shame on you, Lucien.  Didn't your mother teach you that it's rude
to hover about in doorways?"
        "Well, she tried, but .... some things do not always stick."  
        "And," Julie continued, " you haven't exactly been a good boy.  What
were you thinking of in Hearts of Darkness? That comment was so ... so ..."
she paused as she thought of the right word that would carry the appropriate
sting, "plebian.  I'm shocked!"
        He bowed his head and scratched behind his ear for a moment.  He
looked up with a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders.  "Well, my dear, I
stand with no excuse.  Perhaps the proverbial evil twin?"  He smiled at her
and offered his hand.  "Come, my dear, let us go to the sitting room.  I
brought a few selections.  Which do you prefer?  The Bach or the
Rachmaninoff?"
        /Oh, if Annie only knew!/ Julie thought as she followed him.