Here it is - the sequel to "Charlotte's Ruse" that so many (OK, OK 5) of
you asked for.

Permission for Mel to archive at fkfic-l.  Anyone else, please ask
permission.

Disclaimer:  LaCroix, Miklos, Janette, Et. Al. are not mine.  They belong
to Sony/TriStar and I thank them for letting me use them briefly.  There is
no intent to profit from the use of the Forever Knight characters.
Charlotte Jeffreys is mine, please ask permission if you want to use her.

Special thanks to Lori for being both beta reader and cheerleader

********************

Oh, No, Janette
By: Barbara Vainio

Janette virtually burst into her living room, throwing her arms out wide
and wearing the schoolgirl grin she never let anyone except Charlotte see.
The sight of her guest reclining on the chaise longue totally nude, legs
crossed at the ankles, silenced her planned greeting.  She chuckled as she
realized that she wasn't at all surprised that her visitor had made herself
at home and now looked like she could have been posing for Edouard Manet.
Except, of course, for the phone she held in one hand and the full glass of
bloodwine she cradled in the other.

Charlotte mimed a request for continued silence, as two vertical lines
appeared between her brows.  Wanting to hear both sides of what promised to
be a most interesting conversation, Janette walked to the other side of the
room and turned on the small radio she kept there.

"...How were *you* deceived?"  LaCroix' was definitely uncomfortable.  He
liked to believe his children couldn't read his moods, but his daughter had
learned centuries ago how to interpret the nuances of his voice.  By the
end of his question, the temperature of his voice had definitely dropped
below freezing.  Janette was surprised that he tried that particular
technique.  It hadn't intimidated Charlotte 50 years ago and she couldn't
imagine it would work now.  Her assumption was confirmed as she looked back
across the room and saw Charlotte smile warmly, the corners of her eyes
crinkling with pleasure as the frown disappeared.

"I wasn't the one who was deceived.  An...old friend believed I deceived
*him*.  He broke off all contact as a result and never heard the entire
explanation for my actions.  I'd like to find a way to -."

Janette grabbed the phone in a blur of motion and hit the mute button.

"Cherie, are you crazy?  LaCroix will never allow you to discuss this on
the air.  He will never let you discuss this at all.  He has not spoken
your name for 50 years and will not permit either Nicolas or I to speak it
either.  It is perhaps the only thing the two of them agree about."

Charlotte made a playful grab for the phone, laughing when Janette swiftly
flew it back across the room.

"But he didn't hang up as soon as he knew who I was."  Her voice faded to a
pain-filled whisper.  "I really thought he might."  She sipped from the
glass she still held, shook off the somber mood and repeated, "But he
didn't."  She held out her hand and smiled.  "So give me the phone and
let's see how much more he's willing to concede."

Janette met her a few steps from the radio and handed her the phone.  "I'm
still not convinced, cherie.  But I know you well enough to realize you
will not be talked out of this."

Laughing with delight at her friend's very Gallic shrug, Charlotte took the
phone and unmuted it. She rushed to speak as she realized that LaCroix was
getting ready to disconnect her.

"No - wait, please.  I'm sorry.  I got distracted momentarily."  She winked
merrily at Janette & sketched a brief curtsey, the index finger of her
right hand resting lightly on her chin.  Janette laughed.  The curtsey
should definitely never be preformed while nude.

Charlotte sobered as she heard the sound of her call being disconnected.
"Damn."  She would have said more but Janette pointed to the radio, turned
up the volume and raised her eyebrows.  La Croix' controlled, detached
voice filled the room.

"Gentle listeners, let us speak of disobedience.  Have you ever
deliberately disobeyed a request made by a mentor?... a
teacher?...lover?... ...parent?  What were the consequences?  Were they
worth a few fleeting, illusory moments of independence?"

Janette rubbed her hands down her arms as though she had suddenly felt a
chill.  Her father was *definitely* not pleased.

Charlotte grabbed one of her friend's hands and led her back toward the
chaise as though she were the hostess not the guest.  Janette stopped to
look into the flames dancing in the fireplace. Shaking her head in
disbelief, the sparkle in her eyes negating the accusation in her voice,
she added a new speech to a very old play.  "You still haven't learned how
to behave yourself, have you?  You come in here and help yourself to my
bloodwine, use my phone, light the fire laid in my fireplace, sit on my
most comfortable piece of furniture -."   Laughter finally won its battle
with outrage and the dark-haired vampire had to wipe tears from her cheeks.
 She stared at the still form of the other woman, whose pale skin stood out
in stark contrast to the rich colors of the room, and managed to snort,
"Where *are* your clothes, anyway?" before she was overcome by another
uncontrolled outburst of giggles.  She hoped Miklos wouldn't take this
moment to check on how his employer and her guest were doing.  He was much
too valuable an employee to have to kill.  But she could not allow him to
know about this side of her: her survival had depended for too many
centuries on how well people, mortal and immortal alike, accepted her aloof
personna.  She would never again appear vulnerable to anyone.

Janette's laughter lifted Charlotte's spirits, as it had so often in the
past, and she was able to smile as she explained, "They're in your powder
room.  I'm sure Miklos told you what happened?"  Janette nodded in
response.  "Everything, and I do mean everything, was a mess.  I have no
idea what you serve your mortal customers, but I'm very glad *I* don't have
to ingest it.  It STINKS - literally.  I had to rinse out everything I was
wearing and I didn't want to rummage through your closets for something
else to wear -."

Janette's mumbled, "Merci bien," had no impact on her friend's continued
narrative.

" - since I wanted to be sure I had enough time to call Lucien's program.
But now..."

The Raven's owner chose to ignore her old friend's use of LaCroix' first
name, instead looking appraisingly at the short caramel-colored hair that
framed her face like a cloche.  They had always been close enough in size
and build that they could share clothes - although it was rare that their
preferences matched.  But at the moment, thanks to a would-be suitor with
no color sense, she happened to have something in her wardrobe that would
suit her visitor quite well.  She left the room, returning a few minutes
later shaking the folds out of a beautifully cut velour gown.  Charlotte
was mesmerized by the way the dark gold fabric shimmered, absorbing and
reflecting the fire in pools of bronze and sunlight.  She gently captured a
section of the hem in her hand feeling the weight and texture of the
material and rubbed it gently across her cheek, lost for a moment in the
fantasy of letting it slide over her head and down her body.

"I'd forgotten how...sensual clothing can be."

Janette's smile was wistful as she handed over the dress.  "I have the
feeling, ma petite, that you've chosen to forget how sensual *everything*
can be."  <And that is something I will never forgive him for robbing you
of.>  She turned away from the bleak confirmation in her friend's eyes,
forcing herself to matter-of-factly tell her where she could find the
accessories she needed.  Shooing her guest out of the room with a flutter
of her hands, she playfully admonished, "And leave the items on my dressing
table just a you found them," although she knew very well that Charlotte
would do as she pleased - just as she always had.

The younger vampire grinned sheepishly, grateful for the change of subject
- knowing how much of an effort it had taken for Janette not to pursue the
topic of Charlotte's "choices".

When she returned to the living room 20 minutes later, Janette was
reclining on the chaise longue and sipping bloodwine to the accompaniment
of Mozart's Divertimento #13.  In response to a quick glance toward the
radio, she remarked, "There is no need to listen to his hints and
innuendoes.  He will do what he wishes when it suits him to do so. Instead
we will enjoy what is proving to be a most excellent vintage and discuss
what is of interest to *us*."  She filled a 2nd glass and handed it to her
friend who moved toward the love seat, gold velour swirling around her
ankles.  She tucked her bare feet under her and smoothed the rich fabric
over her knees.

Charlotte laughed softly.  "Right now he *is* what interests me."  She
caught Janette's moue of displeasure and furrowed her brow.   "All right,
something else that interests us."  She smiled brightly.  "How about those
Maple Leafs?  OK, I can see from your expression that's not going to do it
either. "  She chuckled.  "Weapons inspections in Iraq."  Janette's moue
became a frown.  Dark brown eyes sparkled as the other woman tried again.
"OJ Simpson."  The frown traveled to Janette's eyes and became a glare.
The gold-clad vampire seemed to be deep in thought, her eyes half closed
and her hands steepled in front of her mouth.  She began muttering, "What
*can* we talk about?  There must be something.  What can it be?"  Suddenly
she leaped off the love seat, clapping excitedly, "I know, I know - Soviet
fashion!!"

First a smile and then a burst of laughter from deep in her throat betrayed
Janette's masquerade of annoyance.  She rolled her eyes in exasperation and
conceded defeat.  She gestured Charlotte back to the loveseat and took a
long swallow from her glass.

"Very well, cherie.  I do agree that LaCroix' reaction to your phone call
was definitely interesting.  And his private response will be even more
so."  She held up her hand as Charlotte started to speak.  "No, I have no
idea what it will be.  Even after sharing his life for much of a millennium
I can't predict what he will do."  She took another sip of bloodwine,
inviting her guest to speak with a brief nod.

Charlotte took a ragged breath, let it out, and tried again, concern
darkening in her eyes.

"Janette, I won't let him take his anger out on you. I didn't expect you to
be here.  I had no idea you were still with him."

"With him *again* would be more accurate.  He came into the club one
evening, looking as though he were surprised I was here and imperiously
demanded a place to stay until he got himself established in Toronto."

Charlotte's laughter contained equal parts disbelief and affection.

"He really hasn't changed much in 50 years."

The finality of Janette's tone brought her laughter to an abrupt end.

"Rest assured, cherie, he has not."

Charlotte searched her friend's face for any sign of encouragement, but
found none.  She hugged her knees to her chest, caressing the soft fabric
that covered them.  She had to find some reason to continue with her plan.
She couldn't go on with this...hole in her life.  Fifty years was long
enough.  She decided to ask her question once again.

"Do you think there's a chance that he'll listen to me?"

Janette heard the desperation behind the words and couldn't bring herself
to cut off all hope.  She chose her words carefully and spoke them with
only a small measure of the pain she felt.

"As I said, he will do what amuses him.  If he believes it will give him an
advantage to know what you wish to tell him, he will listen."  Seeing the
light that leapt into Charlotte's eyes she quickly added,  "Don't make the
mistake of thinking that because he might listen he will agree...or
forgive.  You always chose to ignore the traits you did not like in him.  I
don't think it would be wise to do that tonight."

The younger vampire challenged the implication of her elder's advice.

"You and...Nicholas never understood that as long as I ignored them, he did
too.  Perhaps if I had been with him as long as the two of you I would have
found it as difficult as you did, but he...didn't give me that option."

Janette had hoped to avoid this topic: they would never agree on who was at
fault and it always ended in an argument.  After their last brief meeting
in Paris in the early 60s had ended in a huge battle complete with extended
fangs and drawn blood, she had vowed never to discuss this again.  She
enjoyed Charlotte's company too much...needed her sense of humor and her
spirit of adventure.  But, since the child had brought it up...

"You took away that choice by your "little deception".  Even you could not
have thought he would just *ignore* your very deliberate plan."

"If he had only listened to my explanation -."

"There was nothing he would have accepted as a valid reason for your
behavior.  Not then and most probably not now."

"You could have helped -."

"I could have done nothing."

"You were too intimidated.  Too afraid.  Too jealous of how he treated me
-."

Before Janette could fling herself toward Charlotte, fangs extended, to end
this once and for all, her arms were grabbed from behind.  The other
vampire's attack was stopped in mid flight when she realized who was
restraining her opponent.

Their referee explained, "I could hear your *discussion* out in the bar and
thought I ought to come in and see what was happening.  It appears it was a
good thing I did."  He looked from one woman to the other and asked, "If I
let you both go, will you promise to behave?"

Janette tried to shrug his hands off, but he wouldn't let go until she said
softly "Oui, Nicolas."

More than 200 years of anger heating the gold of her eyes, she mumbled, "Of
course...Father."

The End

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