Date: Fri, 26 Apr 1996 13:57:05 -0400 From: Carla Pickering "Tracy and the Wish Wolf"; l of l Carla N. Pickering at Crowhawwk in Exeter, RI with Joanna the Wolfish Wonderpup Standard disclaimers apply. This story was originally written for Wicked Cousin Tippi's Fanzine "Sweet Revenge"; publication of which has been temporarily derailed :((( due to nasty, evil (as opposed to Wicked) technical difficulties. (Thank you Cousin Tippi for permission to publish). The magical effects of the stories will still take place. Tracy sat cross-legged on her couch, the arms of her apricot sweatsuit pushed up, elbows resting on her knees. On the coffee table in front of her stood a small, paper mache wolf. Her hands were tented under her chin and her forehead was furrowed in concentration. It was 10:00 a.m., she should have been asleep--sleep eluded her. With a sigh, she brushed her hair back behind an ear, unfolded her long legs and stared at her bare toes as if they might hold the answers to 'life, the universe and everything' (as the saying goes). "Brrrowp!?" Sydney Lambert inquired, wandering out of the bedroom which Tracy had abandoned a long half hour ago. "Brrreeep?" he reiterated. "Yes, Sydney, I'm coming back to bed!" Tracy reached down and scratched the top of Sydney's head gently. Standing up, she looked down at her furry charge. "Just let me make some warm honey-milk, then maybe we'll both sleep!" It was nice to have someone *uncritical*, *unthreatening*, and *always loving* to talk to, Tracy thought as she padded toward the kitchen, Sydney at her heel. Natalie was away for a couple of days at what she had obliquely referred to as a *very important conference* and, as had become her habit, she'd entrusted Sydney to Tracy's care. Remembering how much she had wanted a cat as a little girl, and how her mother's allergies had always provided an excuse to say "no", Tracy wondered if she shouldn't adopt a cat of her own. "Prrrrrrp*" Sydney trilled. No, maybe she shouldn't, Sydney might not like another cat. Still, it was good to have someone consistently down to earth and "purry" around! Nick had been more angsty than usual since Nat left for her conference--and that really wasn't like him. He hadn't had a problem when Nat had been away at a professional conference in Hawaii for almost two weeks--and *he* had been taking a *lot* of vacation time lately! Tracy's eye fell on the videotapes stacked neatly near her television. They contained a whole first season of "Eternal Champion", Vachon's favorite show. When he brought them over, Tracy was puzzled. Why would her favorite vampire, living in an abandoned church with no electricity (e.g. no television) *have* a favorite show and *where* would he get the videos? (Vachon would only say 'a friend gave them to me') After watching all those tapes with him for the first time two months ago, Tracy had to admit that it might be *her* favorite show too. All that time "glued" to the screen had certainly been a turning point in their relationship! They had never spent so many consecutive hours together, and, as he introduced her to the show and its characters, he seemed to relax and reveal more of himself and his feelings than he had ever been able to before. "This program is a metaphor for our lives, Trace!" he'd exclaimed fervently, arm around her shoulders, squeezing her with a spontaneity and lack of tension she had never seen. She could *almost* believe that they were just any other couple watching their favorite show. Almost. But what she was feeling as Vachon played with her hair as he fervently expounded on the finer points of "A Kind of Purgatory" was *quite* different from anything she had EVER felt in the company of a mere mortal. The next step had been, she reminisced as she spooned a generous amount of honey into her mug of milk, introducing her to ECHAMP-L, the chat-list of Eternal Champion Fans worldwide. It had been like joining a community together, one where it just didn't matter that she was (still?) mortal and Vachon was immortal. Gradually, on-line time became the better part of their day. And then the axe fell. He had been waiting for her at her apartment when she came home after her shift. One look at his face and Tracy's heart almost stopped. "Vachon--what is it? Are you sick? Has something happened?" She dropped her purse and the small bag of groceries she was carrying and rushed to where he stood beside the couch, eyes downcast, clenching and unclenching his fists. He wrapped his arms around Tracy , burying his face on her shoulder; the scent of her blood a faint distraction to the unhappiness he was feeling. He took her gently by her shoulders and held her away from him, looking soulfully into her wide, concerned eyes. "Trace," he said firmly, "take off you coat. We have letters to write. They're canceling Eternal Champion!" **************************************** For the next few weeks, sleep was a fuzzy memory as Tracy and Vachon (and most of their friends, vampire and mortal) wrote and mailed hundreds of letters. New leads and strategies appeared on ECHAMP-L daily, along with fund-raising campaigns for Jeffrey Davis' favorite charity and for Save EC expenses. Tracy almost destroyed the precinct's copier while running off one last 2,000 extra copies of the Save Eternal Champion flyer which a band of stalwart fans were about to distribute at CATPE. She called in sick for her next shift, unwilling to face Joe Reese who, though a fan of EC like the rest of them, was running out of patience with their round the clock efforts. Slips with written instructions for making EC "Wish Wolves" were scattered everywhere. Called over to the morgue one night, just after the start of her shift, Tracy found Natalie slumped in a chair, hands covered with paper mache paste, a glob of the invasive stuff stuck in her hair. The glob of paste bobbled wildly as Nat straightened in her chair and looked at Tracy with red-rimmed eyes. Tracy looked around with amazement. On *every* flat surface in the morgue, what seemed like *hundreds* of paper mache Wish Wolves sat in the final stages of drying. "Nat....what? How....? When...?" Tracy stammered, turning to view the little figures, her arms spread in a questioning gesture. She couldn't completely suppress a giggle; they were *so* tired. Shaking her head, she flopped into the other chair and covered her eyes with one hand. Looking up at Nat, making a face, she pushed the other woman to laughter. Nat peeled some of the sticky paste from her fingers and tossed it at Tracy. "Nick and I" Natalie laughed with just a touch of hysteria, "We started to do *a few* wolves at the beginning of the *last* shift..." She waved her hand at the resultant multitudes. "We just never stopped." "Oh my God, Natalie, what about Sydney???" Tracy looked ready to bolt from her chair. "Your buddy is fine, mad I'm sure, but fine." Nat grinned at the younger woman as she stood up. "I left lots of extra dry food before I came in yesterday--" she tilted her head "Call it instinct, I don't know... What I *need* now, Tracy, is help packaging all of these little guys up and getting them ready to mail to the Wishing Wolf Project coordinator!" In no time the two were packaging up Wishing Wolves in bubble wrap. ****************************************** That had been two weeks ago, Tracy though, retrieving her honey milk from the microwave. She poured a little into Sydney's bowl--not that he needed any help sleeping-- before taking a sip herself. Vachon had been at a "vampires only" EC thing the night before. "I'd take you Trace, but even with the Save EC campaign going on, *someone* would *still* insist I kill you or bring you across. . ." He left a lot unsaid as he gently traced the outline of her jaw and kissed her lightly. Tracy found her eyes filling with tears as she thought of that touch. Her feelings for Vachon had undergone a deepening--it was no longer just the thrill of danger or the purely physical excitement which he made her feel! Much as she hated the thought of giving up the sunlight, flower-filled meadows with bees buzzing, the thought of not being with him was *not* acceptable any more. Once we have saved Eternal Champion, she thought, we will *have to* talk. ************************************* Tracy sat on the edge of her bed, milk finished. She *had to* get some sleep! Sydney prowled the foot of the bed--intermittently kneading and "talking" to her. Suddenly, Tracy gasped. Something had been nagging her for weeks, something she couldn't put her finger on--and she had just realized what it was! Leaping from the bed, she raced to the computer in the living room, flicked on the switch and clicked open her word processor. With a final "Brrreeep!", Sydney Lambert circled himself a nest on her pillow and went to sleep without her. Before settling down to write, Tracy flipped on the speaker phone and punched the autodial for the precinct. "Ah, Captain, I've had a....a personal emergency, of sorts....I'll be fine, don't worry---but I need to miss the next shift. Sorry, its important." Not looking or feeling her perkiest, Tracy was, nonetheless, relieved. Almost like a repressed memory of childhood abuse, she had blanked out until just now her "wishing stories"--until her mid-teens, when a therapist had persuaded her that her uncanny abilities did *not* exist, Tracy had been able to manipulate great chunks of reality just by writing about them in her fiction. They were still in a box in her parents attic. Tracy gave an uncharacteristically *wicked* chuckle. What would happen if a Wish Wolf on Josh Dulheimer's desk suddenly turned into a *real wolf* and began to talk to him? She wished Vachon had a phone. Well, he would just have to wait until tonight to find out! She was going to *write* Eternal Champion saved! And, while she was at it, she'd add a new, Tracy-like character named Stacey as a love interest for that cut Xavier, he'd been casting a few too many looks at Janine in the past few episodes to suit her. The End