Date: Fri, 19 Jul 96 20:33:49 cdt From: Nancy Kaminski Subject: Re: Your Fan Fiction Page Melanie-- Here is my story, reformatted to be about 1-1 1/2 " narrower, as you requested (my mailer goes really wide, I guess!) Thanks for putting the story on the ftp site. I hope to add a few more in the future! Nancy Kaminski ----------------------------------------------------- This story is in honor of Susan Garrett's birthday. Her wonderful stories have given me a great deal of pleasure since I discovered FKFIC-L. Thank you, Susan, happy birthday and many more (both birthdays and stories)! Legal stuff: The characters in this story belong to TPTB. You know who you are. Thanks for letting me play with them! This is the first piece of fiction I have ever written, unless you count that user's manual I wrote for the (nameless company's) (nameless gizmo) that was still in development at the time... Tech writers don't usually get to write anything enclosed in quotation marks, so if the dialog sounds funny it's because I'm more accustomed to writing procedures. At any rate, I throw myself on your collective mercy. I'll read and respond to any comments you send my way, although I'm not going to guarantee that I'll pay attention to them. Thanks are due to beta readers Kim Ivey and Diane Chinn. (Big wave. Thanks, guys!) I don't believe in the Third Season, so I've ignored it completely. This takes place sometime after the Second Season in that wonderful Never-Never Land where everyone's alive and anything is possible. Suburban Life by Nancy Kaminski "When this old world starts getting me down And people are just too much for me to face I climb way up to the top of the stairs And all my cares just drift out into space... On the roof it's peaceful as can be And all the world below can't bother me Up on the roof..." --The Drifters ***** It was six months "A.M." as Nick referred to his cure. "After the Miracle". After he and Nat were certain the cure was actually a cure, and they had spent a sun-drenched month in the Caribbean doing all the things they had longed to do for four years. To no one's surprise at the precinct, when they returned from vacation they announced they had gotten married in Nassau. Two months after their marriage, Nick proposed that they move out of the city. Nat was somewhat taken aback. "What about the loft?" she asked Nick, looking around. The loft was still forboding, but not as gloomy as it had been. For one thing, the steel shutters over the windows were gone, replaced by curtains. Nat had been making plans for redecorating the place completely. "It's certainly big enough to start a family..." Nick shook his head. "I've lived in cities because it's easier to blend into the crowd. To be just another anonymous face. You can't do that in a neighborhood where you're expected to know your neighbors. I don't have to be anonymous anymore. I don't want to be." He grinned that boyish grin Natalie loved so much, reached across the dinner table and took her hand. "Remember, I was raised on a farm. Okay, in a manor house with serfs doing all the work, but basically a farm. It would be nice to own a little piece of land to call our own. And don't you think Sidney would like a garden to stalk around, instead of being cooped up all day?" "Well, let me think about it..." "Think about it, but say yes." And Natalie said yes. ***** In the early spring, they found a house that could reasonably be afforded by a couple making their combined salaries. No one in the department had to know Nick paid for it in cash. It was located in an older suburb with tree-lined streets, solid and unassuming single family houses and plenty of kids. It was an easy commute for them, just 20 minutes on the freeway. The house itself was 30 years old, two stories and a basement with a detached double garage, just beginning to need some upkeep. The yard was a mess, with a few overgrown gardens and lots of untrimmed bushes. "Okay, farm boy, let's see you do yard work." Natalie said as they surveyed their new kingdom the day after the Big Move. "What do you know about mowing, trimming, painting, weeding and all those other skills you need to survive in the burbs? No serfs here, remember." Nick smiled gamely and gave her a hug. "How hard can it be? I've been watching 'This Old House' ever since it started." Natalie looked slantwise at Nick, who, oblivious of her skepticism, was bent over peering at the crawlspace under the front steps. "Yeah, sure. Just remember, we don't have Norm here either. Keep away from the power tools for a while--I don't want to lose you to a Skil saw just yet." He straightened up. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. And besides, I can always ask Schanke. He'd love to be able to show me how to do something. I can see it now." Nick made an extravagant gesture. "The two of us in the garage, surrounded by disassembled machinery, drinking beer, listening to the ball game on the radio and complaining about the old lady..." Nat just rolled her eyes. "Just don't expect your old lady to get you the beer." "I'll just get an old refrigerator and install a keg, right in the garage." Nat laughed. "And don't forget the old sofa. Ya gotta have a ratty old sofa to sit on while while you drink the beers and BS with the guys." Nick put his arm around her waist and squeezed. "It's gonna be great. You'll see." And so, six months A.M., the adventure began. ***** Nick threw himself into suburban life with his usual enthusiasm for a new experience. The house's previous owner had moved into an apartment so he included all the contents of the garage in the purchase price of the house. Nick found he was the proud owner of a small noisy lawn mower, various shovels, rakes and hoes, an edger, a weeder, a cultivator, two ladders, an assortment of hand tools and a truly ancient snow blower. A series of shelves at the back of the garage held dusty boxes of screws and nails, a small pile of shingles, stacks of clay flowerpots, and opened cans of unidentifiable substances that smelled nasty and looked worse. A scarred workbench covered in paint drips completed the picture. Nick became obscessed with the lawn. He mowed it; he edged, reseeded, weeded, watered, fertilized and fussed at it until through sheer exhaustion it succumbed to his ministrations and became a velvety green expanse of perfection. He had less success with the flower beds. Nat had admitted that when she was growing up she always had a garden in her back yard, and had missed growing flowers in her years in an apartment. She let Nick do the hard work of getting the beds ready to plant and then carefully put in an assortment of flower seeds. Two weeks after the seeds had germinated Nat took a break from repainting the bathroom and went outside to see what Nick was up to. She found him kneeling in the largest of the flower gardens with a basket full of limp greenery next to him and Sidney watching from a respectful distance. He sat back on his heels and smiled up at her. "Looks pretty good, doesn't it? You wouldn't believe how many weeds were in here..." His smile faded as he took in her horrified expression. "Nat, what's wrong?" He looked around in confusion. "Have I done something wrong?" Unfortunately, in Nick's limited gardening experience, flowers were always planted in rows. Unable to distinguish the flower seedlings from weeds, he had decided to pull out anything that wasn't in a line. What he didn't know was that Nat had broadcast her flower seeds for a more "natural" look, so any rows were completely accidental. After taking a very deep breath, Nat carefully explained to her confused helpmate that he had removed 75% of her flowers. She forgave him only after he went to a nursery, bought flats of annuals ("You've got $478 million! Get BIG plants!") and planted them under her direct supervision. She then banned him from weeding anything that wasn't a dandelion, on the theory that even Nick couldn't miss the large yellow flowers and jagged leaves that distinguished them from other plants. ***** Several weeks after the Flower Incident Nat announced, "The gutters need cleaning." "What do you mean, need cleaning'?" Nick peered up at the edge of the roof in the late afternoon sunlight. "They look okay to me." "Didn't you notice the water pouring off the roof during the last rain storm? That means it's not going down the downspout, which means the gutters are clogged. Leaves and stuff. You have to go up there and scoop the crud out so the water goes down." "Doesn't sound too hard. I can probably get at least this side of the house done before dinner. Besides, this'll give me a chance to try out the extension ladder." Nick headed for the garage and another suburban experience. Natalie, shaking her head and smiling at his enthusiasm, went inside to start making dinner. After figuring out how to extend it ("Oh--pull the rope, get the hooks to hook over the rungs...") Nick carefully propped the aluminum ladder against the back of the house and started climbing. The ladder seemed awfully flimsy and bouncy, but it held. He reached the top and levered himself onto the roof, pausing on his hands and knees as he looked along the length of the now-revealed gutter. Yep, he thought, Nat was right. It's full of crud. I'll just scoop it out and throw it on the ground... I can rake up the crud later...can't have that stuff on my lawn... He looked down at the ground to admire his lawn from a different perspective--and froze. His surroundings whirled alarmingly. The roof seemed to waver and tilt. With a strangled cry he flattened himself against the gritty shingles. He knew if he moved a muscle he would fall. Nick lay there frozen in fear, unable to move. And for the first time in six months, he had a flashback. ***** Brabant, 1205 It was a fine spring day, and young Master Nicolas and Mistress Fleur were in the manor's kitchen garden playing with Fleur's kitten and Nicolas' puppy. Nicolas was temporarily free of his lessons and was minding Fleur while their nurse went into the village. They were chasing each other around the garden and making quite a bit of noise. The servants working at their tasks smiled indulgently at the two bright children, so healthy and untouched by the cares that were the servants' lot. Nicolas's puppy, a gangly hunting dog with flopping ears and paws far too large for his frame, pounced after Fleur's small white kitten. The kitten shot off and dashed up an apple tree in her panic, hiding among the mist of white blossoms in the branches. "Oh, Nicki!" wailed the five year old, chasing after the kitten. "See what your horrible dog has done! I'll never get Blanchette back now." and burst into tears. "Shhhh, Fleur." Nicolas knelt by his little sister. "He didn't mean it. He was only playing. I'll rescue Blanchette for you." He kissed his sister's tears away and looked up at the apple tree. Yes, he could see the small white form huddled in the branches, only about 15 feet up the tree. The tree had convenient branches for climbing, and he started up. Nicolas reached the kitten and managed to grasp it around its small middle, clinging to the tree with his other hand. Now all he had to do was get down. The kitten squirmed in his grasp, and he tried to change his grip on the tiny creature. While he shifted his position he glanced down at Fleur, intended to reassure her that the kitten was all right. He saw her anxious face peering up at him; the distance to the ground seemed enormous. Suddenly the world whirled around him. His heart began to race and it was hard to breath. In a total panic, all he could do was cling to the tree trunk desperately with his arms and legs. He was unable to move. "Nicki! Come down!" called Fleur anxiously. "I...can't." Nicolas was almost in tears. "I'm going to fall..." His voice trailed off and he tightened his grip on the tree and closed his eyes. Fleur burst again into tears. Marie, the cook's helper, looked up from where she was cutting some herbs. "Mistress, what's wrong?!" she called as she dropped her knife and basket and hurried to the small girl's side. Fleur could only point mutely into the tree. Peering up, Marie saw her young master, face as white as snow, clinging to the tree. "Come down, Master Nicolas!" she called. Nicolas could only shake his head and clutch the tree trunk more tightly. Marie ran off to get help. When she breathlessly returned, she had the children's nurse and Jean the smithy with her. Jean, a large burly man, sweaty and dirt-streaked from working at the forge, took in the situation. He easily climbed the tree and unceremoniously grasped the boy around the middle just as Nicolas had grasped the kitten. He pulled boy and kitten free of the tree trunk and clambered to the ground hauling his young master with him. As soon as Jean let him go, Nicolas sank to the ground, his knees too weak to hold him. "Your pardon, Master Nicolas, but it seemed not the moment for gentleness." Jean apologized. "Where are you hurt?" Nicolas shook his head, ashamed of his fear. "I'm not hurt...I just could not move...the height seemed too great and I thought I would fall..." He looked pleadingly at his recuers, both distraught and embarrassed. "Please do not tell anyone of this!" They all promised to keep silent, although his nurse looked at him with disapproval and scolded him later for acting foolishly. But of course the story spread, because you can't keep the servants from gossiping to each other, and servant's gossip can be overheard... Nicolas' cousins Gaston and Pierre, who took lessons from the priest with him, began teasing him about it. "Oh, Nicolas, better not ride a tall horse--you might fall off!" "Nicolas, let's go tree-climbing!" and life was unbearable for a while. He did his best to forget about it, and never again attempted to climb anything but stairs. Until now. ***** Natalie came out to call Nick in to dinner and to see how the latest adventure was progressing. There was the ladder, but she couldn't see Nick on the roof. "Nick, where are you?" she called, craning her head and moving back for a better look. "Nat, help." came a small, strangled voice. "I'm stuck." "You're what?! What do you mean, you're stuck?" Again the strangled voice. "I can't move. I didn't remember I have a...problem...with heights until I got up here." Nat clambered up the ladder. When her head poked over the edge of the roof she observed her husband spreadeagled on the roof, seemingly trying to become part of the shingles. His face was as white as it had been before the cure. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be hyperventilating. "How can you be afraid of heights?" she asked conversationally. "For God's sake, you flew for almost 800 years. Without a plane." "That's different." He kept his eyes closed. "Oh?" "Yeah. I couldn't fall. And if I did, I couldn't die." He opened his eyes and looked at her pleadingly. "Will you get me down from here?" Nat couldn't help it. She giggled. "This is too much. An ex-flying undead creature of the night afraid of heights." The giggles turned into full-blown laughter. She hid her face in her hands and laughed. The ladder bounced alarmingly under her shaking body. "Nat! This isn't funny! GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!" Gulping a few times, Nat struggled to put on a serious face. "I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't mean to laugh." Her mouth twitched and she cleared her throat. "Okay. I'll call Rescue. They can get you down with a cherrypicker or something." "Oh, God, no...the whole department'll hear about it. I couldn't take it. They'll never let me hear the end of it. Just think how Schanke will carry on. There's got to be another way. How about the neighbors?" Nat looked at the surrounding houses. "Well, everyone around us is at their cabin. The Larkins, the Korzenowskis, the Johnsons, that about does it. They're all gone for the weekend." Nat thought a minute, considering and discarding several ideas. Finally, she glanced at the horizon and came to a decision. "Listen, the sun's almost down. How about..." she hesitated. Nat hated to even mention the dreaded name. "How about if I call Lacroix? He'd probably love to see you like this, and he's not likely to blab to your cop friends. It's not like he has any hold over you any more, and..." Her voice trailed off. Nick looked whiter, if that were possible. "Forget it. I'll think of something else." But she couldn't, and in the end she went inside to make the call. ***** Fifteen minutes later, there came a knock at the front door. When Nat opened it, he was there. Lucien Lacroix, Master Vampire. Tall, forbidding, dressed in his customary black. "Dr. Lambert. Or should I say, Dr. Knight?" He didn't wait for her answer. "You said there was an emergency concerning Nicholas?" She said, "Yes, there's a problem." and gestured for him to enter. It was the first time he had visited Nick and Nat's new house--they had studiously avoided contact with Nick's former "family" after the cure. Lacroix looked around with a faint aura of disapproval at the decor. "How very--suburban. Have you purchased a minivan yet?" Nat smiled sweetly. "Not until we have our allotment of 2.4 children and a golden retriever." Lacroix merely raised an eyebrow. She lead him through the kitchen to the back door. Lacroix made a face at the smell of the porkchops in the oven. "So, where is Nicholas? And what is the emergency?" "You'll see. Come out to the back yard." Nat felt the giggles coming on again and swiftly suppressed them. Once they were outside she lead him to the ladder and gestured upwards. "Nick's stuck on the roof." She couldn't help it--the giggles erupted. "He's afraid of heights, and can't get down." she gasped, flapping her hand helplessly at the ladder. "He was cleaning the gutters..." She had to sit down on the back steps and bent forward, whooping with laughter. Lacroix stared at her incredulously. Involuntarily his gaze shifted upwards towards the roof. When Nat regained her breath, she said, "I can't get him down. It would be too embarrassing to call the Rescue Squad. So I thought you could just, you know, fly him down." Lacroix's basilisk stare bored into her. "Oh, really? And why should I want to spare Nicholas embarrassment, after all the pain he has caused me?" Lacroix loomed over her. "What is in it for me?" >From the roof came Nick's voice. "Nat? Is he here?" Lacroix looked upward in disbelief at the wan sound. Natalie stood up and, grasping his sleeve, drew him close. She whispered, "You know you get off on giving Nick grief. Well, I'm giving you some ammo here. I figured you might, well, get a kick out of this." She looked up at his bemused face. "Oh, pleeeease?" she wheedled, like a child begging for a treat. He straightened up to his imposing full height. "Oh, very well." He looked down at Natalie with a frown. "But do not assume you can call on me like some kind of 'Vampire 911'. This will be the first, and last, time I will rescue Nicholas from his foolishness-- as a mortal. I had to do it often enough when he was immortal, and I am thoroughly tired of it." With a whoosh, he levitated up to the roof. Natalie could hear low voices, one of which was squeaking in panic. In a minute, Lacroix was back on the ground, Nicholas firmly in his arms. Lacroix released Nick from his iron grasp. Nick stumbled forward a few steps, then collapsed on the back steps in the circle of porchlight, breathing heavily. Looking up at his former master, he grudgingly said, "Thanks, Lacroix." Pointing a warning finger at Nick, Lacroix intoned "DO NOT DO THIS AGAIN." And then to Natalie's astonishment, his lips quirked into a smile, and he laughed. He looked at her and said, "You have given me the answer to a very old mystery. Thank you." Cocking an eyebrow at Nick, he smirked, "So that is why you were so reluctant to fly when I brought you across! HA!" He looked at Nat. "I had to drop him three times before he realized he didn't have to hit the ground." And with that, he sprang into the air, his laughter trailing behind him as he flew back to the city. Both Nick and Nat were left looking into the night sky, one bemused and the other chagrined. Natalie looked at Nick. "Dinner's ready, dear." She turned around and went inside, humming a tune that Nick recognized. It was "Up on the Roof". ***** Author's note: This came to mind as I was forced yet again to call my brother to clean out my gutters. I just can't bring myself to climb up on the roof. Fortunately Chuck doesn't have this problem. (Suburban dentists to the rescue!) Also, long ago my father voluntarily weeded my flower garden while I was at summer camp. Being an engineer, he assumed I would be as orderly as he and so pulled out all the non-linear plants. Needless to say my flower garden was rather sparse that summer. Had to love him for the effort, though. I still plant alyssum in his honor because he would ask me to put in "those white smelly flowers". Miss you, Dad. ------------------------------------- Nancy Kaminski (nancykam@minn.net) and Neapolitano Slatana--Leapin' Lipizzans!--in Minneapolis Hey--My initials are the same as Nick's! -------------------------------------