Not a regular Danny story.  This weird thing came from a dream I had 
last night, combined with how badly my life's been going lately.  I 
apologize in advance for the silliness, and I *promise* I'm not planning 
to put myself in a FK universe.  Also no fantasies, NC-17 or otherwise; 
my writing style doesn't run in that direction.  Just a goofy visit from 
a vampire.  Read on if you dare, brave soul.


Visit from Vachon
a Forever Knight story
by Sue O'Reilly  (soreilly@hotmail.com)


Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Texas had proven me wrong 
again.

Today, the third day of September, which would be filled with moderate 
temperatures and light fall breezes in any normal state--like, say, New 
York--had been hotter than the crack of the devil's behind.  As I 
climbed the stairs to my third-floor room, I wondered for the zillionth 
time why the Air Force couldn't be merciful and let us wear a summer 
uniform with shorts like the U.S. mail carriers.  Sure, we'd look 
stupid, but we'd also be a lot more likely to re-enlist.  God, I hated 
this Army post.  If I didn't get a new assignment soon I was going to go 
crazy.

I unlocked my door and was groping for the light switch when someone 
cleared their throat from inside the darkened room.

I froze.  My roommate was in Bosnia and unless she'd learned some 
fantastic way to throw her voice, there should be *no* throat-clearing 
going on unless I did it.  I started reaching for the baseball bat I 
kept by the door, with visions of the creepy 43-year-old barracks 
manager who was always asking females half his age if they were dating 
anyone.

My fingers had just closed around the handle of the bat when an ironic, 
cheerful voice said, "About time you got home."

I knew that voice.  Although I certainly wasn't expecting to hear 
it...it took me a few seconds to recover.  "Vachon?  Is that you?"

"Affirmative, Ghostrider."

I could see him peeking around the curtain at the back of the room.  
"What are you doing here?"

"Just stopped in to say hi.  If you close the door, maybe I can."

"Oh, sorry."  I swung the door shut behind me and flicked on the 
overhead lights.

The scuffy vampire emerged, his dark hair disheveled as always and that 
half-grin, half-smirk on his face.  "Surprised you, huh?"

"That's an understatement.  Mortals *can* have heart attacks, you know," 
I retorted, dropping my backpack on the floor.  "How the hell did you 
get in?"

He dropped a wink.  "Picked the lock."

"Why am I not surprised?"  I shook my head.  "But don't tell me you did 
it during the day."

"Nope, this morning while it was still dark.  You were gone already, 
though."

"Don't remind me.  I haven't gotten up that early since basic training.  
So you spent the whole day in here?"

Vachon gave me one of those mortals-know-not-what-they-say looks.  "I 
didn't have much choice, Suze."

"Yeah, yeah."  It had been a very long day.  I didn't need to be 
patronized by a fictional character who had broken into my room.  I 
brushed past him and cracked open a beer from the fridge, downing half 
in one long cold swallow.

He was studying me curiously when I turned around, and commented, "You 
look kind of hot."

That was the *wrong* thing to say.  My uniform was sticking to places I 
didn't even know I had.  I glared at him, tossing my cap across the 
room, and snapped.  "Hot?  Gee, I don't know why, Javier.  Maybe it was 
spending half the day in the motor pool, which is always ten degrees 
hotter than anywhere else.  Or moving equipment in a Humvee all 
afternoon, and the bloody heater wouldn't turn off.  Maybe it was the 
drive home, since my air-conditioning hasn't worked since I bought the 
car.  I should be cool as a *&%@&$ cucumber!"

I grabbed some clothes and stomped off to the shower, slamming the door 
behind me.

Of course Vachon was still there when I came out; he didn't have a 
choice.  But from his expression, even five-hundred-year-old guys don't 
know how to deal with a tempermental woman.  He watched me wide-eyed, 
looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

I gave him a tired smile.  "Sorry I yelled at you.  It's just been a bad 
couple of weeks."

"I know," he said, with obvious relief that I wasn't going to rant 
anymore.

"You do?"

He nodded.  "Sorry about Bosnia.  You were really excited about that."

I sighed, going over to slump in the chair across from him.  "Yeah.  I 
was all set to go and everything.  I'd like to kill that National Guard 
guy who volunteered for my slot.  Just a week before I was supposed to 
go, too."

"That's rough."

I almost laughed at the sympathy on his face.  With all that Vachon had 
seen, a cancelled trip had to be pretty insignificant.  "Thanks."

"So, how come you haven't been writing?"

I looked at him sharply.  "Is *that* why you're here?  To badger me 
about fanfic?"

Sprawling out on my couch, he spread his hands.  "Hey, fanfiction is the 
only way we get to have fun anymore.  You can't blame us for taking an 
interest.  Most characters don't get to keep going this long after a 
show's cancelled."

"I've been busy," I said defensively.  "And since I started working on 
my webpage--do you have any idea how slow this computer is?"

Vachon grinned.  "You only get five TV channels, what'd you think I did 
all day?"  He glanced at the borrowed 486 on my desk and whistled, 
shaking his head.  "I didn't even know computers still ran at 14.4."

"On my salary, they do.  Enlisted don't get paid that much, smartass."

"So get some more writing done.  It doesn't cost anything, and feedback 
always cheers you up.  You *did* promise that story to Jordan and 
Angela," he pointed out.

"I know I did."  And I'd been feeling guilty about it, which made me 
even more defensive.  "I've got about six dozen Highlander stories 
without endings.  A couple delayed vampire stories is nothing compared 
to that!  You guys are lucky I manage to finish anything."

He speared me with an accusing look.  "And what about the story with me?  
You've had *that* one three-quarters written since last April.  When are 
you going to get off your ass and finish it?"

"Oh, man," I groaned, covering my eyes.  "I knew you were going to bring 
that up."

"So?"

"I tried a few times, but I kept getting other stories in my head.  Like 
that pelican one?  That came out of nowhere in, like, two hours."

Vachon shook his head, unrelenting.  "If you let my story sit on your 
hard drive any longer, you'll never finish it.  I know you, Suze."

"Great, Javier.  I love to have imaginary vampires understanding me so 
well.  It's a real ego boost."

He pointed a finger at me.  "No sarcasm.  I'm serious.  You'll finish it 
next?"

"Well..." I looked away.  "I kind of had another idea..."

It was his turn to groan.

"It's just a little story," I protested.  "And you're in it.  Really.  I 
was going to use Nick, but--"

"No way!" he interrupted, looking almost comically offended.  "His 
Blondness gets enough page time.  Give some other characters a chance, 
would you?"

"I am, I am," I assured him hastily.  "Peace, okay?  I'm using you.  I 
just have to find a reason for you to buy furniture polish."

It's quite a trick to make Vachon look surprised.  He stared at me in 
complete befuddlement.  "Huh?"

I waved a hand.  "Never mind, it's my problem.  You'll see."

"All right."  He gave me a suspicious glance.  "Be nice, though.  If I 
end up cleaning rooms at a Holiday Inn or something, you're gonna be 
sorry."

I swallowed a giggle and raised my right hand.  "Scout's honor.  Nothing 
too demeaning."

"Good.  Get writing, then."

"What--right now?"

"Sure.  I can't leave until after eight.  Why waste all that time?" he 
said with a smirk of triumph.

"Slavedriver," I muttered, but fired up my computer obediantly and 
retrieved a fresh pack of Camels.  "Only if you don't read over my 
shoulder.  I hate that."

"Deal."  He reached for an old copy of Details (the one with Cameron 
Diaz on the cover, I noticed), filched one of my cigarettes, and fell 
into an agreeable silence.

Waiting for Microsoft Word to start, I had a sudden idea.  "Hey, 
Vachon?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever been to Mississippi?"

"Don't think so.  Why?"

"Well, there's a Sergeant Shingledecker at the Air Force base there, and 
he's in charge of giving out new assignments...what are the odds that 
he's a resister?"

END

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