Date: Sun, 09 Feb 1997 19:44:50 -0400 From: "L. LeAnne Lassiter" To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com Subject: UNSUITED: Uncommon Ground X-URL: http://www.fkfanfic.com/ Uncommon Ground by L. LeAnne Lassiter Sometimes Don Schanke wished that he had a different partner, one who wasn't so.... Sometimes, working with Nick Knight was a real pain in the keister. Like tonight. Knight had gone off on one of his tangents and had disappeared during the middle of an investigation. Cohen had exploded at Schanke, since he was the only one of the twosome within striking distance. Knight had been doing a lot of disappearing lately, had been acting very weird. Weirder than usual. Schanke was frankly starting to worry about his partner, which led him to the Raven on this cold February evening. He wanted to talk with Nick's old friend Janette, that sexy French bombshell who Nick seemed to still carry a torch for. Maybe she knew what was going on with Nick. Schanke didn't see Ms. DuCharme anywhere when he walked into the club. The place was filled with weirdos, as usual. Long hairs, cross-dressers, an occasional dominatrix. Schanke couldn't figure out why Nick liked the place so much; it didn't seem like Nick's style. Well, Schanke was sure Janette had something to do with it. He strolled up to the bar and ordered a beer, surprised to see Nick's friend a few stools away. He took his beer and headed down to talk to him. "You're that Creepycrawler guy, aren't ya?" he asked. The corners of Lacroix's mouth hitched upward in distaste. "I believe you mean crawler, Mr. Schanke. And you are correct. It is I. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company this evening?" "I came by to see Janette. Is she here?" "I'm afraid not. But I will certainly pass word of your visit along to her." "You'll tell her I was here?" Schanke asked, his eyes widening. "Of course. And then I will ask her to hire a bouncer for the front door to make sure that you do not return." Lacroix looked to Miklos the bartender and ordered another house special. "You know, it's not a good idea to drink alone," Schanke said, lowering himself to the barstool next to Lacroix. He was one scary looking dude. Where on earth did Nick meet him? Lacroix fixed him with a piercing glance and drained his glass. Miklos filled it again without being prompted. "How many of those things have you had?" Schanke asked. "Oh, I forget. Six, seven. Does it really matter?" "Yeah, it does if you've gotta drive home." "I do not , Mr. Schanke," Lacroix hissed. "What an absurd notion." He laughed in spite of himself, in spite of the terrible feeling that was nagging him. Ah, Nicholas. "Come on, Nightcrawler-- That's not really your name, is it?" "Of course not! It is Lucien. Lucien Lacroix." "Come on, Lucien. Ease up. What's bothering you?" "I don't want to talk about it," Lacroix said, waving his hand dismissively at Schanke. "Come on, tell me. Any friend of Nick's is a friend of mine." "What a frightening possibility," Lacroix said and drained his glass. He really needed to slow his drinking. He was in danger of overdoing it. Though it was blood, not wine as Schanke thought, that he was imbibing, Lacroix was still in danger of intoxication. It wouldn't do to lose control with so many mortals around. "Are you always so unpleasant?" Schanke was asking. "I mean, I just sat down here tryin' to be friendly, and you're nothin' but rude to me." Lacroix snorted. "According to Nicholas, I'm a monster." "I can understand why he'd think that." "Can you? I cannot. I've been nothing but good to Nicholas, yet he rejects me and throws my kindness back in my face." "You too, huh? I thought it was just me he got weird on." "I assure you, Mr. Schanke, Nicholas' is not a phenomenon related only to you." "That's good. I mean, it's good to know that it's not just me. Tell me something, what's the connection between the two of you, anyway?" "Blood, Mr. Schanke. Blood." "Oh, you two are family?" Lacroix nodded. "Even though he tries to deny me." "Funny, Nick doesn't seem like the kinda guy to turn his back on his family. You two have some sort of argument or something? Did it have something to do with money? That's where most families fall apart, over money." "No, Mr. Schanke. Nicholas and I have a difference of opinion. He wants to reject his heritage while I think that he should embrace it. He's ashamed of who he is." "That just doesn't sound like the Nick I know." "You don't know him as well as you think. You have no idea who Nicholas is. Neither does Nicholas, for that matter." Schanke sighed. "I guess you're right. It's not like Nick let's me get close to him. He keeps shutting me out and turning me away. That's what I'm here about. Hey, since you're family maybe you have some idea what's going on with him." Lacroix smiled. "I've know Nicholas for eight hun...since he was born. And in all that time, I have never had any idea with him. He's a singular individual. And for what it's worth, he shuts me out, too. It's the price we must pay for being a part of his life." "You care a lot about him, don't you?" "Of course I do. I only wish I could make him understand that." "That's why you're drinking yourself silly tonight. Because of Nick. He's gone weird on you, too." Lacroix nodded. Miklos returned and tried to refill his glass, but Lacroix waved him away. "I think I've had enough for the evening. No need drinking myself into a stupor over Nicholas' waywardness. The effort would be wasted on him anyway. Can I get you a refill, Mr. Schanke?" "No, my wife's gonna kill me when she smells this one beer on my breath. Two'll put her over the edge." "She doesn't approve of you drinking, hm? So like Nicholas. He thinks I should abstain as well." "Now sounds like Nick. I like the guy, but he can be so superior sometimes." "Ah, so true. He thinks that his way is the only right way and refuses to yield to anyone else's opinion. That determination is what I love so much about him, yet it can be impossible to endure." "I know. The first case we worked together, he was determined to have things his way. He didn't wanna share with me, even though our captain wanted it that way." "Nicholas can be quite uncooperative." "You know, I think I'll take you up on that beer after all," Schanke said, and Miklos obliged him. "You know, you hold your liquor pretty well, Lucien." The vampire almost blushed. He really had drunk too much. He was starting to feel giddy. He didn't let this stop him, however, and ordered another house special. He and Schanke raised a toast to Nicholas, and continued their drinking. "Another thing about Nick," Schanke went on, beginning to feel the effects of the beer, "he so damn modest. He makes these impossible arrests but acts like he hasn't done a thing. It's sickening." "That's because he's easily embarrassed," Lacroix said, turning up his nose with disgust. "Another trait I find deplorable." "Maybe, but he never lets me help him. Embarrassed or no, he wants all the praise for himself. And he likes keeping secrets. Like the way he never told me about you." "He's never told me about you, either." Lacroix's face drew tight into a frown. "It's as though he were ashamed of us." "Could that be it?" "Most likely. He's so self-righteous." "Yeah, and pig-headed." "Obstinate would be a better word, Mr. Schanke, but I agree. And he's moralistic." "Pompous." "Dour." "Dour?" "Gloomy, Mr. Schanke. I would suggest that you invest in a thesaurus. Your conversations would benefit greatly from one." "You think? I might just do that. Myra would be impressed. Anyway, we were talking about Nick. You said he was a door." ", Schanke. That, and ridiculously fond of mortals." "What?" Schanke asked. "Nothing." Now Lacroix knew for certain that he'd had too much blood. "But you know what bothers me about him more than anything?" Schanke asked, moving closer to the vampire. Schanke's breath reeked of garlic, and Lacroix could not help moving away. "No. Tell me." "His hair." "His hair?" "Yeah. He's got so much of it." Lacroix thought about it. He scanned through eight hundred years of memories and realized that this vile partner of Nicholas' was correct. From one era to another, Nicholas had consistently displayed an overabundance of the flaxen stuff. "He certainly does. It's so full and healthy." "He could be the poster boy for Pert," Schanke said, popping a cocktail peanut into his mouth. "The blond always looks so cool with those black leather jackets and shades. He makes me sick." Lacroix drank his house special and considered his drinking companion again. The mortal was amusing. He now understood why Nicholas was so fond of him. "I hate to tell you, Lucien, but that's why Nick's ashamed of us. He thinks he's better than us 'cause he's got all that hair. Well, I wonder how self-righteous he's gonna be when it starts falling out." Lacroix smiled, getting into the spirit of things. "That ought to bring him down a notch or two." "Bring who down?" A voice asked from behind them. Mortal and vampire turned around at the same time and saw Nick Knight in the flesh. He looked from one to the other, trying to figure out what they were doing together. Lacroix and Schanke exchanged a glance, and Lacroix read the evil thought that was forming in the back of Schanke's mind. It was a wonderful idea. "Why, you, Nicholas," Lacroix crooned with a mad grin. The blood had woven a delightfully blissful cocoon of warmth and magic around him, and he was drunk on the feeling. "What's this all about?" The look on Lacroix's face had gotten Nick's wind up. He started backing away as the two rose to their feet. "Guys, what's going on?" Lacroix turned to the bartender and whispered something into his ear. An exchange was made, and Lacroix started to move toward Nick. "It's time we things up, don't you think, Mr. Schanke?" He raised his hand and revealed a pair of shears. "Why, Lucien. You read my mind." Lacroix made a snipping motion in the air. "The vorpal blade went snicker-snack, Nicholas!" Nick gulped and ran for the door, the two close on his heels. Lacroix gained on him and easily overtook him. He pinned Nick to the ground and waited for Schanke to catch up them. "I give you the honor, Mr. Schanke," Lacroix said, graciously handing over the shears. "Call me Don." He dropped to one knee, trying to catch the breath he had lost during the very brief chase, and grabbed Nick by the hair. "What's going on here, Schank?" Nick asked, eyes wide with confusion. There was something he was missing here, but for the life of him he didn't know what. "What's going on, Nick, is I'm sick of you treating me like I don't count. You act like I'm some kinda idiot even though I've got more years on the force than you." "And I, Nicholas, am tired of you rejecting me. We are family. I am a part of you, and you me." "This is about us getting even," Schanke said. "Just a little off the top, Don," Lacroix said, his fangs beginning to drop from the excitement. Nick's screams could be heard for miles in the cold night. *** Their retreat was as swift as their attack. Nick found himself alone in the alley behind the Raven and feeling quite confused. Nick wondered to himself. His partner and his father had attacked him in an alley with a pair of scissors. He tried to picture the two of them together, but the images just didn't seem to fit. They were too different. What could have ever drawn them together? Then realization hit him, and Nick made the connection: male pattern baldness. That would explain their attack. It made sense, if you were drunk enough. Nick shrugged and got to his feet. The hair did not concern him; it would grow back during the day. Schanke might have questions about that, but he could convince him that tonight had never happened. Praise be the whammy. Most likely, though, his partner was too drunk to remember what happened anyway. Nick ran his palm across his freshly shorn head and felt something wet. Blood. Schanke had nicked him. Why didn't that surprise him? Nick thought as he took to the air, wincing as the wind touched his naked scalp. ~ FINIS ~ -- L. LeAnne Lassiter, The Lost Girl An unrepentant Dark Knightie and closet Cousin leannel@techcom.net