Date: Mon, 1 Apr 1996 19:24:46 -0500 From: Allison Percy Subject: Shift of Fools (1/7) Shift of Fools (1/7) by: The Cracked Belles from Philly (Bea Quindlen and Allison Percy) Dedication: The enclosed bit of madness is dedicated with great affection to Linda Roth, whose unceasing demands for payment for past favors in the form of fanfic led us to inflict this tale on you all. Disclaimer: Hey, we stole these characters 'cuz we love 'em. Nevertheless, the creators of Forever Knight would probably be horrified to read what we've done to them. So don't blame Jim Parriott et al. for the events in this story. Praise, flames, LOLs, expressions of horror and dismay, and cubes of Ribena jello to Allison Percy or Bea Quindlen . **** Part 1: A More Manageable Mane On the Toronto skyline, the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. A few bright stars shown in the rapidly darkening sky. Inside an old church, Javier Vachon began to awaken from the deep slumber in which he passed his days. Blinking the vestiges of sleep from his eyes, he stumbled into the bathroom and looked bleary-eyed at his reflection in the mirror. At first he could not believe the evidence before his eyes. Leaning closer to the mirror, he blinked. He tried rubbing his eyes, but the evidence was incontrovertible. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached a hand up and ran it through his hair. The hand slipped easily through a clean, silky, and very manageable head of hair. He experimented with tossing his head to one side, and the hair floated elegantly over his shoulder, finally settling back once again in just the right way, with nary a strand out of place. Panicking, he rumpled his hair with both hands, trying to get it back into his preferred style -- the casual, "I'm too cool to own a comb" style he had always preferred -- but the hair simply would not cooperate. Each time it fell back into place, refusing to tangle, clump, or muss up. A homeless man camping out on a heating grate three blocks away thought he heard a feral scream coming from the condemned church building. *** Vachon stalked into the Raven, clutching a green plastic bottle in one hand. He looked around the room suspiciously, and finally sat down at his usual stool by the bar. Slamming the green bottle onto the bar, he said between gritted teeth, "Someone will pay for this." The bartender, a tall spike-haired mortal named Matthew, looked alternately at Vachon and the green bottle. "I assume you don't want me to pour you a glass of that stuff. Oh, *nice* hair, by the way. It looks very... manageable today." Vachon grabbed back the bottle of Pert Plus Extra Conditioning Formula and tried once again to rumple his hair, to no avail. He was sure that he looked just live Keith Partridge right now. "The bottle," he growled, "is evidence. Somebody snuck into my place today and did *this* to my hair." He tossed his head again and the hair swooped elegantly through the air and fell back perfectly in place. Matthew choked back a laugh and beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the bar before he lost control completely. From the back of the Raven, Urs emerged and took her accustommed place next to Vachon. "Javier, you look different today. What happened?" "Somebody snuck in while I was asleep and attacked me with *this*," he said, brandishing the bottle of Pert Plus. "I think it was Tracy. She said something to me the other day about needing a haircut, or at least a comb." Urs raised an eyebrow and looked at him appraisingly. "I kind of like it. You look like Keith Partridge now." Vachon jumped off the barstool and headed for the door, grumbling under his breath about meddlesome mortals and revenge. Matthew came over with a bottle and a glass. Urs smiled and said to him, "But I *like* Keith Partridge." Matthew simply shook his head and poured her a glass of the special stock. *** Up next -- Part 2: Spanish Orders Shift of Fools (2/7) A Quindlen/Percy Production Praise, flames, LOLs, expressions of horror and dismay, and cubes of Ribena jello to Allison Percy or Bea Quindlen . Part 2: Spanish Orders Javier Vachon headed to Tracy Vetter's apartment armed only with Pert Plus and his wits. He was basically unarmed. Vachon slipped through the window and went into full vampire mode. The fifteen watt glowed brightly in the darkened apartment. Vachon shielded his eyes as its rays bounced off the array of bottles and dishes. Apples, beef, cheese...everything was in order. Quickly he began to rearrange the contents of the refrigerator. Manzanas, carne de vaca, queso... It had been years since Javier had used his native language (hanging around the Americas for several generations with Screed and Urs as companions did not give a guy much chance to practice his language skills) but he only faltered slightly around the "p's & q's"... or peas and cucumbers as the case may be. Guisantes y cohombros -- he put them all in their proper place. Several hours later and after many verses of the Alphabet Song (Javier spent most of the 70's hooked on Sesame Street), he turned with a jerk, and laying a finger aside of his nose... Oops! Wrong storyline! Vachon closed the 'fridge gleefully. For good measure he unscrewed the sugar, salt and pepper shakers, flipped them over and balanced their lids on their bases. Checking the clock, he determined it was either 4:30 or 6:20 <"big hand on the..." still gave him trouble> and time to get back to the church. Remembering to open the window before exiting, he nonetheless forgot that vampires fly and bounced off the pavement when he fell out of the casement. --------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, back at the ranch... It was Amateur Night again and the dance floor of the Raven was crowded. Lacroix was still crooning over the airwaves as Urs finished her second glass of scotch - scotch, in that it has previously coursed its way through a highland gentleman - and decided it was time to undress for her performance. "Matthew," she cooed. "I'm going to change in Lucien's chambers." Her use of the boss' first name startled him and she quickly took advantage of his wide eye look. Her voice dropped in register and volume. "This never happened," Matthew repeated foggily. "What never happened?" asked Urs who had momentarily slipped into her dumb blonde mode. Remembering her game plan she slipped off her stool (OK, she fell) and darted into Lucien Lacroix's sancto-sanctorum. It took just a minute to slip out of her Danny Bonaduce t-shirt and into the silver lame drape that was her costume. A quick fluff of her very manageable locks and she was almost ready to strip. But first... Lacroix's medicine cabinet held few of the "usual" things - usual meaning "mortal". No Pepto or Alka Seltzer sat on its shelves. Granted there was an incredibly large container of dental floss and a giant tube of Crest (with sparkles). Urs didn't even want to think about the throat drops she found. She rummaged further. "There it is." she whispered to her reflection . Urs twisted the barrel and exposed the point of the soft brown eyebrow pencil. Another twist and it returned to its hiding place. A flick of her wrist sent the pencil sailing into the trash as she slipped a similar cylinder from her Partridge Family lunch pail pocketbook, leaving the new pencil in place of the old. Another fluff of her very manageable locks and she headed for the edge of the stage. ------------------------------------------------- Up next -- Part 3: Purple and Gold Shift of Fools (3/7) A Quindlen/Percy Production Praise, flames, LOLs, expressions of horror and dismay, and cubes of Ribena jello to Allison Percy or Bea Quindlen . Part 3: Purple and Gold LaCroix stood leaning against the bar lazily watching Urs's gyrations on the stage at the Raven. He really didn't understand why Janette hadn't come up with the idea of a strip night herself. It brought out... a more *revealing* clientele. Urs had an advantage over some of the amateur mortals who normally performed here; she had over 100 years of experience in this business. LaCroix found himself momentarily transfixed by her movements; absent-mindedly, he rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead. , he thought (although *he* thought it in Latin; your narrator doesn't *speak* Latin so it has been rendered in English here), . He rubbed the brown eyebrow pencil off his hand and headed back to his office. A quick glance at his watch told him that he had only a few minutes before he had to be back on the air. ***** Natalie decided to drop by the Raven on her way to work. She hadn't seen Nick in quite some time, and he wasn't answering the phone at the loft. He had been in quite a funk lately, so she decided he had probably headed for the Raven to wallow in self-pity. He did seem to find solace in letting his nemesis LaCroix torment him. She worked her way through the crowd and leaned over the bar to speak to the bartender. "Matthew," she shouted over the music, "have you seen Nick lately?" Matthew shrugged and shook his head, wiping a wine glass dry with a towel. From the back of the Raven, LaCroix sauntered over, swirling a glass of red liquid in one hand. He took a sip and tipped his head to one side as he looked Natalie over. "Dr. Lambert. To what do we owe the *pleasure* of this visit?" Natalie swallowed nervously but stood her ground. Her eyes searched his face, lingering on his... eyes? "You know why I'm here. Why else would I come here? To find Nick." LaCroix smiled tightly. "Nicholas is not in at the moment. Would you like to leave him a message?" He said this in a tone that made it clear that he was *not* an answering service. Natalie shook her head, turned and headed for the exit. She paused at the door, turning back as if she had something more to say. LaCroix's distainful expression stopped her cold. She jerked the door open and sailed out muttering to herself. LaCroix watched her departure with amusement. Baiting the dear doctor was almost as much fun as baiting Nicholas. Tonight she seemed overstressed and somewhat distracted - her parting mutterings of "woolly-bears" certainly made him question her state-of-mind. He turned and headed through the crowd toward his broadcasting booth. He wasn't sure, but he thought he detected *tittering* among the young ruffians who made up his clientele as they parted to let him pass. He furrowed his brow, which only served to send one of the younger girls into fits of laughter. Snarling, he spun around and gave them all his "Don't mess with me, I'm a dangerous old vampire" stare; he was normally quite good at this stare, since he had been working on perfecting it for nearly 2,000 years. Yet the reaction he got from the crowd was not what he had anticipated. While most of them stopped giggling, a few covered their mouths as they could not keep from smiling. He decided he had enough time to go back to his office and see what was making them all so giddy. He strode back through the crowd, enraged by every snicker he thought he heard. He looked at himself in the mirror by the sink, but saw nothing out of the ordinary at first. Flicking on the lights, he looked more closely -- and saw purple. His eyebrows were now purple. He had re-touched his eyebrows in the dark, and while vamp-o-vision was excellent for most purposes, it was notoriously difficult to distinguish colors in the dark. Somehow he now had purple eyebrows. He pulled out a Q-tip and tried to rub off the offending markings. But despite his best efforts, the purple eyebrows remained. He tried washing them off with a wet washcloth, with no more success. His eyes glowed red with anger and frustration as he grabbed the offending eyebrow pencil and checked the label more carefully. "Sharpee Permanent Marker -- Violet -- Extra-long lasting ink" He stormed out of the office and headed for the Raven's back door. He stopped at the broadcast booth only long enough to pop a tape with a re-broadcast of one of his previous shows in the player. He didn't stop to listen and find out which of his shows was on the tape. LaCroix asked himself as he took to the night air. The only face that leapt to mind was that of the ever-annoying Dr. Lambert. How long had she been at the Raven before he had noticed her? Killing her was out of the question; LaCroix's relationship with Nicholas had been growing stronger lately and he dared not risk it by pushing his son away again. A little taste of her own medicine, then. Quickly, he set his mind and headed south over the lake. He had in mind a certain place in the touristy section of Niagara Falls, Canada, that should have just the item he needed to exact his revenge. **** The night wore on and Natalie was getting tired. She looked at the gurney that had appeared in the hallway while she was working on her previous "patient." Who had brought this one in? She hadn't seen it arrive. In fact, she hadn't seen anyone else around in quite a while. The whole building was mysteriously quiet; the hallways dark. She jumped when the overhead light in her lab fizzled out. She decided that for now she could work by the light provided from the lamps over the counter. Shaking off the sense of creepiness that she felt, she snapped on a new pair of latex gloves and wheeled the gurney into the room. As she reached for the zipper on the body bag, she couldn't shake off the sense that someone -- or something -- was watching her. The hackles rose on the back of her neck. She shivered and tried to pull herself together, finally pulling the zipper down in one, swift motion. She pulled open the bag when suddenly the body sat up. She fell back, her heart caught in her throat, as a face with fangs dripping blood stared back at her. Her scream echoed through the empty halls of the Coroner's Building. **** Back in Niagara Falls, a rookie police officer looked bored as he took down the details of a late-night robbery at the Wax Museum. he scribbled in his notepad, . **** Natalie was embarrassed. She couldn't believe that she had screamed at a wax figure rigged with springs to sit up. She *especially* couldn't believe that she had been frightened by a silly Dracula figure. She had seen enough fangs in real life that she ought to be able to handle this. But perhaps no human being was meant to go through having a dead body rise up out of a body bag and bare its fangs at you -- or at least, not twice in one lifetime. she thought. She paced back and forth in her lab angrily, hatching a plan to get her revenge on the 13th-century pain-in-the-butt. Checking her watch, she saw that her shift was over. She decided to drop by the store today to pick up supplies for her "payback" plans. **** Reese yawned loudly as he walked across the precinct's main room. He decided to give the water cooler one more shot. His eyes were drooping with fatigue as he took the paper cup and put it under the spigot. Surprise lit up his face when he realized that for once, the water cooler worked. Smiling widely, he downed the cup of cool water quickly and leaned over to get another. It was then that he noticed the orange-and-white figure moving about in the water bottle. went Reese. went the goldfish. No, two... three goldfish. He stared at the water in the cup and wondered how long the goldfish had been in the tank... then crumpled the paper cup and rushed back to the locker room to wash out his mouth. "Goldfish water!" one of the police officers thought they heard him mutter under his breath as he rushed by. ***** Up next -- Part 4: It's Not Blood Shift of Fools (4/7) A Quindlen/Percy Production Praise, flames, LOLs, expressions of horror and dismay, and cubes of Ribena jello to Allison Percy or Bea Quindlen . Part 4: It's Not Blood ================================ Crash! "Sh*t!" Grace Balthezar barrelled through the morgue doors nanoseconds after hearing the sound of shattering glass. "Natalie! Are you all right? Oh, my God!" Grace took in the sight of the crimson splattered coroner. "Oh, my God!" she repeated as tears began to fill her eyes. "I'm OK, Grace," assured the doctor. "It's not blood." "What'?" Grace demanded with a "this better be good or you'll wish it was your blood"-type look. It was then she noticed the sweet fruity nuance drifting from the coroner. went the coroner's assistant. went the coroner. "Ribena?" The doctor nodded. "Ribena? You nearly give me a heart attack because you decide to wear 'eau de black currant' for the night?" "Actually, I was putting it in my tea when I dropped the bottle..." the doctor began. "And, of course, you had to have the big one, didn't you?" Natalie sheepishly hung her head. "Girl, you are an addict! Don't think I haven't noticed the bottle in the refrigerator. Not to mention seeing you pour it on your ice cream last night," lectured Grace as she began to gingerly pick up the sticky glass shards. "It makes great jello..." offered the red-faced doctor only to fade at the quelling look she received. "I'll get the broom." "And the mop!" called the attendant as she watched her boss leave red footprints across the floor. It was then she noticed the extra occupant of the room. "Natalie, what's with your friend?" she called. "What? Who?" echoed from the janitor's closet. "Your friend, the vampire!" "Crash!" A bucket, mop, broom, towels and Natalie Lambert's jaw hit the floor with an audible thud. Images of a bloodless Grace dangling from Lacroix's arms flitted through Nat's brain. "Bela! When did Bela Lugosi arrive?" Grace clarified. Natalie leaned against the frame of the closet door catching her breath and letting her heart return to a mortal norm. She'd completely forgotten the body bag's occupant. "He's a 'friend' of Nick's." she quipped. "I think he's getting a head start on April Fool's Day. I'll have to come up with something suitable pretty soon." Natalie swirled the mop around the crimson puddles wrinkling her nose at the ugly patterns she created. "Ugh, this stuff's disgusting. Its as bad as A-B..." The words died as a plan formed in the most devious corner of her brain. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Natalie Lambert checked her watch as she carefully hoisted the paper bag higher in her arms. The clink of glass bottles was unmistakable. She hurried to the loft's door and keyed in the door code. Silence greeted her. The blinds were still down, sealing in the tomb-like atmosphere. Upstairs, she knew that a vampire slept. she thought. She slipped off her shoes and tiptoed through the little used kitchen placing the bag on the floor near the 'fridge. She pulled on the door handle, glancing at the screaming face above. "Shhhhhh!" she admonished the painting as she removed the first bottle of bovine beaujoulais. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Up next -- Part 5: Grumpy and Jumpy Shift of Fools (5/7) A Quindlen/Percy Production Praise, flames, LOLs, expressions of horror and dismay, and cubes of Ribena jello to Allison Percy or Bea Quindlen . Part 5: Grumpy and Jumpy Nick awoke with a start, sweating blood and trying to dismiss the remants of a particularly disturbing dream. Something about LaCroix and an edible thong... he shuddered, stumbling out of bed and down the stairs for his much-needed morning drink. He threw the fridge open and grabbed the first bottle he saw. Pulling the cork out with his teeth and spitting it in the general direction of the kitchen, he threw his head back and took a long, deep gulp of the dark red liquid. He had downed nearly the whole bottle before he realized that something was seriously wrong. He threw the bottle aside and leaned against the wall, trying to stop from gagging. Had the bottle gone bad? He really needed to be more careful about keeping the kitchen stocked with *fresh* blood. He grabbed another bottle and took an experimental swig, then rushed over to the sink to spit it back out. What *was* this stuff?! He stiffed at the bottle tentatively, but his nose was not greeted with the tinge of blood gone bad, but rather the sickly-sweet aroma of... black currant? Just then he started to feel the effects of the first bottle he had gulped down before realizing that something was wrong. He doubled over at the pain in his gut. He tried to lean against the counter for support, but suddenly found his head spinning. He missed the counter entirely and staggered crookedly across the room, which seemed to be spinning in a most disconcerting fashion. He knocked over several tables and lamps before collapsing on the floor in front of the fireplace, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Colored lights and strange sounds seemed to be dancing in his head, and just before he passed out entirely he thought he saw a vision of LaCroix floating in front of his eyes, with two large, furry caterpillars sitting where his eyebrows should be. **** Reese sat at his desk tapping his pencil, trying to keep his mind off the lingering and undoubtedly purely psychological taste of goldfish water in his mouth. After gargling 20 times with Listerine, surely there was no rational way he could still taste goldfish. He contemplated who might be responsible for committing this crime and glanced at his watch. 8:30pm. Knight and Vetter were both late reporting for duty. Reese's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Those two had been giving him nothing but trouble lately. He wouldn't put it past one or both of them to have perpetrated the goldfish stunt. Somehow Vetter seemed the more likely candidate right now. Knight seemed to be brooding even more than usual lately -- Reese expected someone who was plotting practical jokes to be more chipper, more... *perky*. Like, say... Vetter. Getting up from his chair, Reese wandered casually over to Vetter's desk and pulled open her top left-hand desk drawer. There sat her private stash of premium, extra-caffeinated gourmet blend coffee. The woman drank gallons of this brew every night. Reese decided that perhaps Vetter was becoming a bit *too* addicted to the stuff -- and maybe he could "help" her overcome her addiction. He told the watch sergeant he'd be gone for a few minutes and went to the gourmet coffee shop two doors down. Upon returning, he switched the bag of extra-caf for *de-caf* and smiled to himself. **** Moments later, Vetter arrived at the station, apologizing for her tardiness. "Sorry I'm late, Cap. I know the excuse sounds lame, but I overslept. I got here as soon as I could -- didn't even stop for coffee!" She did look rather sleepy and bleary-eyed this evening. Reese simply smiled and motioned toward her desk. "You have a little time yet, Vetter -- your partner is even later than you are tonight. Make youself some coffee while I call to check on him." Tracy looked relieved and rushed to her desk. Opening the top left drawer, she retreived the bag of coffee and hugged it to herself as she headed for the coffee-maker. Reese went back into his office and dialed Nick's home number. After two rings, Nick's answering machine picked up. Reese waited impatiently for the message to finish and the beep to sound before shouting into the phone. "Knight! Wake up, Knight. Pick up the phone, detective. You're late for work!" Finally a groggy-sounding voice answered the phone. "Huh? What?" "Come on, Knight, get your butt in gear. What is *with* you today? You're over a half hour late already." "Yeah, okay Cap, I'll be there as soon as I can." "Make that even sooner!" Reese slammed down the phone. Peering out his door at Tracy's desk, he smiled at the way she was cradling a large cup of coffee. he thought with a smile. **** Nick dropped the phone back on its base and stood up. He still felt a bit light-headed, but the hallucinations and the abdominal pain seemed to have passed. He only had a few minutes before he'd have to leave for work, so he rushed to the refrigerator to find some *real* blood to appease his roaring appetite. Checking each bottle carefully, it slowly dawned on him that somehow *every single bottle* of blood in his apartment had been replaced by the noxious black currant substance. Glancing at his watch, he realized that he had no more time to spare looking for a meal. At least the horrid sugary substance seemed to have given him nervous energy to run on even if it hadn't quieted his blood hunger. He picked up his car keys, then reconsidered and threw them back on the table. Too wired to trust his ability to drive and too late for work already, he threw open the window and flew to the precinct. The full impact of the sugary substance on his mental state began to dawn on him as he found it impossible to resist doing two loop-de-loops in the air on the way to the precinct. **** Nick barreled into the precinct, going full-tilt. He hurried over to his desk and sat down. Within seconds, he jumped up and started pacing back and forth. Tracy looked up at her partner past drooping eyelids. "Nick, settle down, would you?" Nick sat back in his chair and gripped the arms tightly, as if trying to hold himself down. Withing seconds he started tapping his leg against the desk, as if his body had an uncontrollable need for movement of any kind. Tracy slurped down the rest of her coffee and slowly pulled a file out of her in box. "We've still got some legwork to do on the Franklin case." She stared blankly at the file for a full minute before Nick leaped out of his chair and snatched the file from her, pacing nervously back and forth as he read it. "Come on, wake up Tracy, we've got some work to do. Where's your car?" "Geez, Nick, I don't know if I'm up to driving tonight. Why don't we take yours?" Nick looked at her wide-eyed for a moment. "My car? I, uh, I didn't bring my car today." "Then how did you get here from your place so quickly? You must've practically flown here to get in just a few minutes after Reese called you." Nick glanced around nervously, his eyes darting wildly as if seeking safety anywhere. "Taxi. Yeah, that's it. I, uh, I got his call on my cell phone in a taxi. My car's in the shop." Tracy stared at him blankly as if having trouble absorbing it all. Nick continued to pace back and forth. Tracy slowly pulled herself out of her chair. "Okay, Nick, let me just pour myself a cup of coffee to go and we'll take my car." She pulled out a huge insulated commuter mug and went over to the coffee pot to pour the rest of the pot into the cup. She snapped on the lid and turned around to find Nick standing directly behind her, staring at her neck. Jumping, she grumbled, "Sheesh, Nick, what's *with* you?" Nick dragged his eyes away from her neck, although he couldn't quiet the sound of her heartbeat in his ears. -- didn't the woman have any idea how *tasty* she sounded today? Nick tried to distract himself changing the subject. "Well, you should talk -- what's with *you* today? You're not much like your usual perky self." Tracy stared daggers at him through slitted eyelids. "I - don't - know," she hissed, "but when I have a headache like the one that's starting to hit me right now, it's a good idea to get *out* of my way!" She shoved him aside and headed for the door. Nick hurried after her, trying *not* to think how much less trouble he'd have with his partner if he just bit her and drained her dry one night. Reese could hear the two sniping at each other as they left the precinct. Nick looked awfully jumpy... maybe he'd been wrong in blaming Vetter for the goldfish incident. Yes, he definitely thought Nick was the more likely culprit. He leaned back in his chair to contemplate an appropriate payback. **** Up Next -- Part 6: Cross Dressers Shift of Fools (6/7) A Quindlen/Percy Production Praise, flames, LOLs, expressions of horror and dismay, and cubes of Ribena jello to Allison Percy or Bea Quindlen . Part 6: Cross Dressers ----------------------------- Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nick rolled his eyes and gave Tracy a none too gentle shove. "Wake up!" he demanded for the third time in as many traffic lights. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Vetter grabbed her throbbing head with one hand while the other gestured heavenward in a singular manner. Knight, meanwhile, took matters and badge into his own hands and stormed back to the car that was annoying him. "Yo!" he yelled (yes, he'd recently held a Sly Stallone festival for one) and waved his shield into the driver's eyes. "Lay off the horn or I'll run you in!" "You and whose army?" came the retort. Knight momentarily debated calling in a dinner break. He closed his eyes, willing the beast to stop spinning around after his mad dash from the car. "You will cease to annoy me." he intoned staring into culprit's eyes. "You will move around our car and proceed as if nothing happened..." "...Yo! You will wait until I get out of the way!" he added as the rear tire rolled over his left tootsies. Well, not a bad whammy job, considering his usual rate of success. Nick hobbled back to Tracy's car and yanked open the driver's door. Vampiric speed allowed him to catch his drowsing partner before she hit the pavement - almost. He unceremoniously pushed her over to the passenger seat and slid in behind the wheel mentally thanking TPTB for giving Tracy an automatic instead of a manual shift. He wasn't at all sure that his healing powers were up to par after drinking whatever he'd swallowed. He looked across at his somnolent partner. Lacroix was an evil b*****d at the best of times, malicious, cunning, heartless and abusive. But Nick knew deep in his infrequently beating heart that Lacroix was innocent this time. The last time he'd seen her she been royally p*ssed at him. It had to be her. Nick grinned hugely, pleased with his deductive reasoning. He glanced quickly in the rearview mirror, noting a lack of traffic behind him and immediately swung the car into a U-turn. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Belatedly, Nick remembered that he should have looked both ways before such a manuever. Whether it was the vampire or the sugar high that prevented an accident can be debated (and just may be, if the new episodes don't start soon) for many months to come. Knight pulled the sedan into his usual spot right in front of the Raven (front-end 13 inches out from the curb, rear end 18 inches out -- much better parking than he usually did with the caddie) and darted inside the club. The atmosphere in the club was different...lighter...almost jovial. The denizens of the dark were darting to and fro, laughing gaily and tittering amongst themselves -- far different from the almost wake-like quality of the club. "Where's Lacroix?" he asked the first vampire he encountered. "Bawahahahahahahaha, hic," greeted his question and the unfortunate vamp collapsed into hiccups. Nick sidled away from the afflicted bloodsucker and cast his gaze around the bar. "Matthew," he called. "Where's Lacroix?" "He's on air." Matthew answered as he jerked his head towards the radio control room. "Good thing it's not TV!" he added mysteriously. Nick strolled over to the control room and peered through the glass. The room was in total darkness. Even Lacroix's usual purple and green lights were missing. Nick squinted, empowering his vampiric eyes to see...caterpillars? Lacroix had caterpillars crawling on his face? Knight shook his head trying to dislodge the ridiculous sight. He looked again. They were still there. Lacroix seemed unaware of the infestation. Nick tuned his hearing into the Nightcrawler's monologue. "And so dear listeners, remember... just as there is good in everyone, there is also evil. Beware those who seem truly *good* -- trust them the least for they will betray that goodness and bring evil upon you. Trust only me. I am your friend. I am the Nightcrawler...." substituted Nick mentally as the 'on-air' light flicked off. "What do you want, Nicholas?" asked Wool...I mean, Lacroix. Nick stared at LC's back and, doing a Tonya Harding imitation, bounced from one foot to the other. "Ah, well, ummm, have you heard from Janette?" he finally asked. "Nicholas, for the two millionth time, NO, I do not know where Janette has gone." Nick hung his head and scuffed his foot on the floor. "Well, I thought...." "No, Nicholas, you did not think. You never think. Janette has left the Raven. Janette has left Toronto. Janette has left YOU! Elvis, and Janette, have left the building. Will you get that through your thick head once and for all?" Lacroix shouted to the wall. The last was delivered into a sudden silence that occured on the Raven's dance floor. Every vampire in the room turned and stared at the control room. Lacroix turned on his protege in anger. Nick's eyebrows shot up as he took in his sire's appearance. "What the hell?" he began. His eyes opened wide and LC seized the moment. "You don't see anything unusual...my eyebrows look normal....they are not purple...you will leave the Raven and not return until I call you," he intoned to the hapless detective. "I know nothing...I hear nothing...I see nothing" Schultzed the younger vampire. Knight spun around (another Tonya H. move) and drifted out the door chanting to himself. Lacroix slammed the door behind him but not before giving the club's occupants another look at his plummy coloring. *********************** Nick found himself outside the Raven, standing beside the now vacant car. His partner was nowhere to be seen. Looking around he spied an all night market and headed towards it. The overly bright lights of the store were particularly offensive to his eyes, especially after the dark interior of the club, but Nick nonetheless scanned the aisles for his partner. No luck in aisles 1 & 2 but 3 (Health and Beauty Aids), presented a surprise. Crouched down, staring at the bottom shelf, was Vachon. The younger vampire withdrew a box and, turning it over, began to read the label (moving his lips as he read). He put that back and reached for another. "I can assure you, blonds do have more fun." remarked Nick. Vachon lost his balance and tottered into the shelf, sending boxes flying all over. "Very funny, Knight." said Javier as he scooped up Toni and L'Oreal boxes. "What are you doing here?" he asked trying to put Nick on the defensive (rather than himself). Nick didn't bite. He took in Vachon's appearance...guilty look, red face, perm box in hand, and really great looking hair. "Just looking for Trace. Have you seen her?" "Look, Knight, every time you lose Tracy you come running to me. What am I, 'Lost & Found'?" "Nick, is that you?" called Tracy as she emerged from aisle 5 (coffee, tea, cocoa, according to the overhead sign). "Do you believe it? They're all out of coffee! Oh, hi, Vachon!" She looked at her figiting partner. "I guess we'd better get going. Maybe I can get a cup at the Raven..." "NO!" both vampires called. "Um, I was just in there, Trace. They're out of coffee, too," fibbed Nick before Vachon could answer. "Oh, well, maybe I can hang on until we get back to the precinct." Tracy gave a huge yawn and added. "I'll go get the car. See ya, Javier. Nice hair, by the way." If Tracy had been more awake she might have caught Vachon's yawn/growl but it never registered in her sleep fogged brain. Nick caught it and turned on the younger immortal. He yawned, grabbed a handful of Vachon's hair and attempted to reel him in close. The silky, manageable hair slipped though Nick's grasp and fell in perfect waves over Vachon's shoulders. Nick stared in wonder. "Wow, really great hair! What shampoo do you use? You'd think that immortality would bring certain perks but look at us...I haven't had a good hair day in almost 800 years, Lacroix looked like a giant Q-tip for awhile there, and you..." Nick paused to catch his almost non-existent breath. "Don't finish it, Knight. Unless you want to get staked with a rat-tail comb, don't finish it." Vachon grabbed one of the boxes from the floor and stormed to the register. "One L'Oreal Preference hard-to-hold perm kit...is that all, sir?" asked the girl behind the counter as Nick headed out the door. " You know, you've got really nice hair, mister," added the unwitting clerk. ********************************** Joe Reese waited patiently for his fellow captain to answer his phone. "Joe? Joe Reese. Look, you still looking for a team to go undercover?" "Yeah? I got the perfect duo." "No, they're good cops - really, some of my best." "Yeah, I'd say they're both good looking. Vetter's sort of 'girl next door' and you know her partner, Knight." "That's right, Knight...Nick Knight! He ought to make a great bartender at the club you're investigating." "Yeah, he still hangs around the Raven. Place gives me the creeps but he must of picked up a thing or two there." "Ponytail? Gotta have a ponytail? Well, its a little long but not that long. Maybe a wig or extensions would work?" "They're on their way in. I'll brief them tonight, get them to turn over their other cases and send them to you tomorrow night. How's that?" "By the way, how'd you do in this year's Polka tournament?" ********************************** The sound of snoring lead Nick unerring to the car. Tracy was once again sound asleep, this time in the passenger's seat. The call back to station came in just as he reached the vehicle. Nick took the most direct route back to the station which, unfortunately for the groundskeepers of two churches and park, cut across their properties. "I was not asleep!" Tracy stated. "Yes, you were." Nick replied. "No, I wasn't." "Yes, you were." "Wasn't." "Were." "Wasn't." "Were" volleyed through the corridors of the police station. "And you snore!" "I do not snore!" reverberated through the office. "Do, too." "Do not." "Do, too." "Do not." Slap! She whacked Nick on the arm. "Do, too." Slap! Nick whacked Tracy on her arm. "Do not." Slap! The discussion degenerated as the two started flailing at each other wildly. Reese leaned his head on the frame of his office door. He couldn't believe it. For months now he'd been trying to get Vetter and Knight to communicate and now they were acting like three-year olds, bickering and slapping their hands at each other. Undercover...they were definitely going undercover. he assured himself . "Vetter! Knight!" he barked. "Uh-oh, busted!" chorused the rest of the night shift which included Natalie Lambert who was sitting at Nick's desk folding reports into origami cranes, bats and...aardvaarks? Natalie rose to follow the errant pair into the office. she thought. "Knight, Vetter, I'm sending you home for the night. Tomorrow night you report to Captain Stonetree for an undercover assignment. Uh, uh -- don't bother to object. It won't get you anywhere. You're going undercover at a bar called 'Cross Over the Line'...." Reese noticed Lambert's eyes widen at the name...just before her grin emerged. "Knight -- you're their new bartender, Vetter -- new waiter. Report tomorrow for briefing, wardrobe, makeup..." Natalie began to chuckle. Reese shot her a quelling glance. Well, he tried to be quelling but he was starting to see the funny side of the assignment. "Can I be of any assistance, Captain?" she asked formally, in spite of her giggles. Reese could tell that Natalie desperately wanted in on this assignment. "Certainly, Doctor. Perhaps you can help Knight with his wardrobe and makeup?" "Be glad to, Cap. Um, doesn't he need a ponytail if he's going to work at the 'Line'?" Nick was speechless. They weren't serious. They couldn't mean.... "Captain, didn't you mean waitress?" asked Tracy a little uncomfortably. "Yes. No." Reese answered both questions. "Yes, Doctor, you're right. Nick, you need to have a ponytail by the time you start bartending. And better shave your legs, too. And No, Vetter, I meant waiter. 'Over the Line' has, shall we say, a free atmosphere - not too different than that club you hang out at, Knight. Anything goes but most of the staff, OK - all of the staff, are cross-dressers and you'll have to fit in. Now, get out of here and get ready to go undercover. Just DRAG yourselves to work tomorrow." He pushed the two sputtering officers out the door and turned to the highly amused coroner. "Somehow, Doctor, I get the impression that you're going to love this assignment." Natalie's grin grew wider as she exited the office. Joe Reese settled his bulk behind his desk and picked up his day-runner. Flipping to the current page he jotted in a few notes on the Knight/Vetter assignment. He glanced at the date on the top of the page and a huge smile spread across his features. ----------------------------- Next up -- Part 7: Dear Diary Shift of Fools (7/7) A Quindlen/Percy Production Praise, flames, LOLs, expressions of horror and dismay, and cubes of Ribena jello to Allison Percy or Bea Quindlen . Part 7: Dear Diary ------------------- After trying to remove the purple marks above his eyes with the tenth different cleaning solution without success, LaCroix took a break. He pulled a large volume down from the shelf labeled "Personal Diary, Volume CLXII." Turning to a page toward the back, he began to write. "Page 1,245. April 1, 1996. A day that will live in infamy. Think I finally managed to 'talk' every client at the Raven into forgetting about the Purple Eyebrow Incident. Planning on putting someone else in charge of the Raven and staying home for several weeks until the evidence fades away. Reminder: next year, arrange to be out of town on the first of April." **** Tracy swallowed another pain reliever and pulled out a small, brightly colored book with a large smiley face on the cover. "4/1/96. Dear Diary: Today for some reason I felt very grumpy. Had a headache all day that wouldn't go away even after I hummed 'My Favorite Things' to myself several times. Came home and couldn't find anything in the refrigerator -- it all seemed out of order. Still have no idea why today went so wrong." She shrugged to herself, stashed the book under her mattress, and crawled into bed. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wished for a better day tomorrow. ***** Reese scribbled a cryptic entry in his Day Runner on the space for April 1. "Goldfish. Knight? Vetter? Today's payback fun; really looking forward to tomorrow night." ***** Natalie pulled out the log book she used to keep track of her efforts to cure Nick of his vampirism. The last entry, dated several weeks before, made her frown. "Subject doesn't seem to be drinking the protein shakes any more. Not sure what to experiment with next." She smiled to herself and began a new entry. "After ingestion of an unknown quantity of flavored sucrose syrup, subject exhibited heightened energy. Unsure what side effects might have presented themselves. Perhaps try a diluted solution, or an alternative flavor?" ***** Nick struggled with the hair extensions he had brought home from the precinct for over an hour before throwing them down with disgust. He'd just have to rely on Natalie's help the next evening to get them on right. He was *really* dreading the necessity of shaving his legs. Sighing, he pulled his journal off the shelf and began to write. "Personal journal, year 768 of my damnation. Had strange, prophetic hallucinations while under the influence of some sort of sweet syrup. Spent hours making a fool of myself while on a sugar-induced high. Went hungry nearly all day. Didn't get to the butcher shop to re-stock my 'food' supplies until nearly dawn. Can't believe I have to spend tomorrow wearing women's clothing." He sighed again. "Not sure whether Janette or someone else is responsible for all this. Doesn't really matter. Undoubtedly I deserved it." Nick put the pen down and buried his face in his hands before he gave in to the temptation to actually write the words "Woe is me" on the page. That would just be *too* much. ***** Vachon stared at the mirror in shock. He wasn't sure, but he thought that perhaps he had left the perm solution in for too long. Tight, frizzy curls surrounded his horror-stricken face. Despairing, he threw himself down on the mattress in his cobweb-ridden room at the old church. He pulled out a small leather-bound book and stuck out his lower lip, pouting as he wrote. "Diario de Javier Vachon. 1o de abril 1996. Seriously contemplating shaving my head. Might be able to convince others that I did it as a tribute to ol' Screed. Wish the Inca would come back and put me out of my misery." ***** Urs took out her commemorative Partridge Family diary and began writing with a smile of self-satisfaction. "April 1, 1996. Dumb blonde act still working. Got the ball rolling then watched the sparks fly. 364 days to come up with even more fun ways to drive everyone nuts next year." ***** -Fin- As always, praise, flames, LOLs, expressions of horror and dismay, and cubes of Ribena jello to Allison Percy or Bea Quindlen .