Title:       Only You
Author:      DCE aka ViciousGurl
Email:       geek-tastic AT gmx DOT com
Archive:     Okay to archive on www.fkfanfic.com , all others must 
             ask permission.
Disclaimers: This is a FK/HL xover. All the FK characters and concept 
             belong to TriStar, Inc. and the HL characters and concept
             belong to Davis/Panzer Productions, Inc. 'Only You' by 
             B.Ram/A.Rand and performed by the Platters is also used 
             without permission. No infringement is intended. The rest
             of the cast and this story are created and copyrighted 
             by me.  
Feedback:    Are you kidding? I'd love it!

Many thanks to Catelyn for beta reading again. 
I'm also forever indebted to Cathy who helped me out quite some time
ago <g> by coming up with proper names for different clubs. Thanks
Cathy :)

This story follows my previous one: ''Tis the Season...' which can be
found on my web page at http://www.dlc.fi/~dce/fic/index.html


ONLY YOU
by DCE aka ViciousGurl
<geek-tastic AT gmx DOT com>
(c)2000


When Fernando and Cheryl Rosetti arrived to the small chapel in that
cold and gray February evening, they were somewhat surprised to be
greeted by a number of people armed with cameras and tape recorders.
But, as the first flashlights went off, they were quickly escorted
inside by two bodyguard types who played deaf and kept the reporters
outside.

Once inside, Fernando relaxed a little. Quite frankly, he'd been a
bit astonished at the unusual time specified in the invitation but
now he thought he understood it a little better. This was supposed to
be a private ceremony, and the odd hour had no doubt been chosen to
help keep it that way. Obviously, the plot hadn't been a total
success but he could only imagine how much worse it might have been
had the ceremony taken place earlier.

"Those vultures", Cheryl whispered angrily, adjusting her hat. "You'd
think that they'd show a little respect at a time like this."

"I guess 'respect' just doesn't sell enough papers." Sighing,
Fernando returned his wife's indignant look. "Hey, I'm on your side,
but there really isn't anything we can do about it."

Cheryl gave him a sad little smile. "I know, but it just makes me
mad."

Silently, Fernando took his wife's hand into his own and squeezed it
lightly in support. Then he guided her along a short hall and paused
behind a closed door at the end of it, listening to the husked voices
coming from the other side for a moment before entering.


To say that the small group of guests was eclectic would've been
putting it politely. Motley crew was more like it.

A blond woman with impossibly high heels was busy arranging flowers
in the front of the chapel while her black dress was bravely defying
gravity. A tall, solemn looking man with dark hair stood close-by,
holding in his hands a veiled, wide-brimmed hat which didn't really
go well together with his black slacks and silk shirt. A stunning,
raven-haired beauty in a simple but slightly daring black dress was
deep in conversation with a younger man dressed in black jeans and
leather. And finally, the only two people who actually looked as if
they belonged, a classically handsome man with a short cut, curly
brown hair in black Armani and a small woman with chestnut hair and
gray eyes were quietly talking to each other.

"Well, at least they got the color scheme down pat", Fernando thought
silently, and then admonished himself for his thoughts.

He could feel Cheryl's restless movements come to a sudden halt as
they found themselves faced with six pairs of inquiring eyes. Feeling
like a deer caught in the headlights, Fernando stayed frozen to the
floor for a second or two until the gray eyed woman walked over to
greet them both and ushered them to a front pew.

As the rest of the guests took their seats, Fernando wondered why
there were so few of them. Yes, it was a private ceremony but
still... Then, once again, he admonished himself. It had all happened
so quickly, in a matter of only a few days, so it was no wonder that
there wasn't a huge gathering of guests. No, what really struck to
him as odd was that most of them didn't seem too grief stricken. In
fact, the solemn looking man, who'd handed the hat over to the blond,
looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else but where he was at the
moment. Of course, people handled grief in different ways but
Fernando couldn't help the impression that most of the guests were
there more out of duty than anything else.

Then, Fernando set his musings aside as the ceremony finally began.


"My dear friends, as we are gathered here to remember Lucien LaCroix,
our beloved brother who was so tragically taken away before his time,
let us remember these words, 'In my Father's house are many
mansion...'"

********************

Two weeks earlier


"... and I just really feel like I could use a few more lessons,
Mac."

"Must've been a pretty close call." Duncan made it a statement but it
was really a question in disguise.

"You could say that."

The other end of the line was quiet for a moment as Duncan waited if
she'd care to elaborate, but Antonia wasn't forthcoming.

"All right. Well, I can think of a couple of guys who might be able
to help you out, but it'll take me a while to track them down. I
haven't seen most of them in years, and some of them might not even
want to be found."

"Thanks, Mac. I owe you big time."


Putting down the receiver a little later, Antonia let out a deep
sigh. She'd set the wheels in motion and all she could do now was
wait. But at least she'd finally pulled her head out of the sand and
actually done something instead of just avoiding the issue.

But now that the deed was done, she felt oddly restless. Wandering
towards the kitchen, she hoped that it wouldn't take Duncan too long
to find her a new teacher. She really wasn't looking for a repeat of
what had happened the day before.

Ever since Italy, she'd been on edge. Short tempered. Moody. In
truth, a regular pain in the ass. And yet, LaCroix had been a darling
about it all. He hadn't brought up the little incident which had
started it all once since they'd left Pompeii. Not even when the
nightmares got really bad. Of course, he didn't need to talk about it
to know exactly what was going on inside her head. He got all the
information he could want, and more, by simply tasting her blood.

Damn vampires.

Frowning, Antonia peered into the fridge, trying to decide if it
contained anything she'd like.

There were times when she just wanted to scream. And once or twice,
she had. Not that it had helped her to make heads or tales of her
thoughts, but it had made her feel better, for a while.

They'd waited for so long for their honeymoon. It had seemed that
they'd never be able to take time off at the same time, so finally
they'd simply agreed to postpone the whole thing until Christmas. And
it had been wonderful, everything she could've ever wanted. Like a
magical dream.

A dream that had ended in a nightmare.

It wasn't that she was sorry to be alive. Not even close. But it was
that damned guilt that was gnawing at her, night and day. A battle
between two Immortals was supposed to be just that, one on one, and
she'd cheated. Well, technically speaking, LaCroix had cheated. But
that was neither here nor there. The point was that she was still
alive and Calida was not. And by all rights, it should've been the
other way around.

She still felt, absurdly but undoubtedly, a little mad at LaCroix for
interfering when he'd known better. But, at the same time, she
couldn't even begin to describe the love and relief and gratitude she
felt towards him for doing just what he had done. Besides, who was
she to call the kettle black? Had their roles been reversed, she
would've screwed the rules, too. Still, knowing that didn't make the
jumble of feelings inside her any easier to handle. And she was
really tired of not being able to think of anything else other than
that blasted fight.

But maybe, at its core, it wasn't survivor's guilt she was feeling at
all. Maybe it was fear. Fear, that if she had done this to Calida
now, then who was to say that someone else couldn't do it to her
two-thousand years down the road. Now there was a cheerful thought.

But, looking at the bright side, who ever said that she'd even
survive two-thousand years to see the night. And as for fighting...
What a laugh! She was too chicken-shit to even chance a glimpse of
another Immortal, now, let alone fight one.

Shivering, Antonia closed the fridge door. She wasn't really hungry,
anyway.

Then, she got mad at her lone self-pity party. Jerking the fridge
open again, she snatched a pitcher of apple juice and clanked it none
too gently on the counter.

So what if she'd run to the opposite direction yesterday when she'd
felt the presence of another Immortal for the first time since
Pompeii? After what had happened at New Year, it was only natural
that she'd be a little uncertain of her skills, wasn't it? Besides,
she'd just done something to solve the problem, hadn't she? Damn
right she had! She'd called Duncan. And as soon as he'd find her a
new teacher, she'd be back on the saddle, so to speak. And then, let
the chips fall where they may, cause she was done running!

The ringing of the phone interrupted Antonia's silent pep rally.
Taking her glass of juice with her, she hurried to the hall.

"Hello?"

Silence greeted her.

"Hello?" She tried again. "Who is this?"

Still no answer, but she could hear the person on the other end of
the line breathing rapidly, even though most of it was covered by the
dim sounds of traffic in the background.

Antonia sighed audibly. "Fine. Don't talk."  Unceremoniously, she
dropped the receiver down.

Lately, they'd been getting prank calls on a fairly regular basis.
Whenever Antonia would answer the phone, she'd get the silence
treatment. Why the caller didn't just hang up was beyond her, but to
each their own, as LaCroix said. Of course, when *he* answered the
phone, instead of silence, he got a recording of 'Only You' by The
Platters. No, life certainly wasn't always fair.

They knew that the calls all came from different public phone booths;
they knew, because they'd checked the numbers. It was weird, yes, but
not weird enough for them to bother changing their own number.
Besides, the weirdo wasn't just calling to the house. Whoever it was
also got his, or her, kicks out of calling to the Nightcrawler show.
Again, not a word was said, just a recording of that same song. And
it didn't seem to matter that LaCroix always cut the call after the
first few notes. But the calls just kept on coming. Antonia wished
that LaCroix would at least consider her suggestion and hire a
producer or something to screen his calls, but so far he'd maintained
that he worked alone.

He worked alone.

Suddenly, Antonia was having flashbacks to an old Steve Guttenberg
film where he'd said something along the lines of 'I walk alone' in
some weird accent. If she said LaCroix's words with that same funny
accent, she really sounded a lot like Guttenberg's character.

The thought made her chuckle.

"And what is so funny, my dear?" LaCroix had returned home while
she'd been busy reminiscing old comedies.

"Hi hon." Antonia smiled, as he bent down to give her a peck on the
cheek. "How was work?" Then it struck her that they'd just acted like
some TV couple out of the '50s, and she couldn't help laughing some
more.

At LaCroix's inquiring look she shook her head and waved her hand
dismissively. "Nothing, just forget it. I've probably just been
cooped up inside this house for too long, and I'm beginning to lose
it."

"Now, we can't have that", LaCroix said, uncorking a bottle with the
Raven's label on it. "How about a dinner at the Azure?"

"Azure?" Antonia thought of it for a moment. "Actually, I was in the
mood for something a bit less fancy. How 'bout a movie and a pizza?"

Now it was LaCroix's turn to look thoughtful. "Very well. But only if
the pizza comes without garlic."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Antonia grinned at him. "As for the
film, I was thinking comedy...."

*********

LaCroix arrived at the Raven mere moments before opening time.
Usually, he liked to personally see to it that everything was in its
place and ready for the night, but that evening, he'd gotten off to a
late start. And yet, he wasn't agitated or grumpy because of it.
Quite the opposite, actually; he was in a better mood than he'd been
in for quite some time now, and even sported a faintest of smiles on
his face.

However, his pleasant thoughts of why exactly he was glad to be a tad
late that evening were interrupted by his bartender's low voice.

"Yes, what is it, Miklos?"

"The fledglings are becoming a problem, LaCroix. We had to throw out
three of them just last night."

Some of LaCroix's earlier good mood was deflated by the news. "The
same three as..?"

"No." Miklos shook his head before LaCroix had a chance to finish his
question. "I recognized one of them but the other two, I'd never seen
them before."

"Perhaps you weren't clear enough in your warning to them the other
night, Miklos?" LaCroix's voice was deceptively soft as he turned his
cold eyes towards the younger vampire who returned his gaze without
flinching.

"They don't recognize the Community or our laws, LaCroix. Unless
their masters are willing to reign them..." Miklos' voice trailed
out, his implication clear.

Millennium frenzy, they called it. A number of new vampires had been
created and then, for no apparent reason, abandoned by their masters
at the turn of the new year. And now the young ones were busy
renegading themselves. It all reminded LaCroix of that time after the
meteor scare a few years back, only on a smaller scale. But Miklos
was right. The situation warranted his attention unless they relished
the idea of receiving a visit from the Enforcers in the near future.
Besides, their activity was bad for business.

Suppressing a sigh, LaCroix nodded at his bartender. "I'll look into
it. Just make sure that there's no more trouble at the club."

Then he proceeded into the back-room to go over the night's
broadcasting plans.

LaCroix saw the packet as soon as he opened the door. Stepping
closer, he noticed the lack of address, even though his own name was
scrawled on top of it with large, precise letters. Unlike some might
expect, LaCroix didn't immediately rip the packet open. Instead, he
regarded it for a while with mild curiosity, listening intensely.
Only after he was finally satisfied that the mysterious packet was
indeed silent, did he open it.

"What the..."

Reaching inside LaCroix lifted a soft and fluffy teddy bear out of
the box. Tossing it aside, he picked up the box and inspected it
carefully but the box was now empty. Grabbing the teddy bear again,
he turned it in his hands but it appeared to be just what it was
supposed to be - an ordinary, cute little teddy bear.

A quiet growl came out of LaCroix's throat. If this was someone's
idea a of a 'cute little' joke, he was *not* amused. However, staring
into the plastic eyes of the bear, he quickly dismissed the idea of
one of the Raven's dwellers as the culprit; none of them would risk
their necks for something as stupid as this. Miklos' warning of the
new group of young ones echoed through his mind but he soon discarded
that thought as well; this would've been much too 'innocent' for any
of them.

Then, a new thought occurred to LaCroix and he inspected the bear
with renewed interest. It wouldn't have been the first time one of
his older friends approached him using somewhat unorthodox methods,
although this one was over the top, even for one of them.

None the less, LaCroix began to go over the teddy bear
systematically. First, he ripped off its head and carefully pulled
the stuffing out of it. Next, he went over the torso but found
absolutely nothing. Finally, he unstuffed the bear's limbs, one by
one, just to be thorough but just as he'd already suspected the only
thing he found was some more stuffing. There had been no secret
message hidden inside the toy and that could mean only one thing -
someone had a serious death-wish.


"ALMA!!!"

The Raven's sometime decorator hurried in, trying to figure out just
how exactly LaCroix had found out that she'd taken a quick sip out of
that *delicious* young specimen last night, and how exactly she'd get
herself off the hook. But before she could even begin to spin any
tales, LaCroix was all over her with his questions.

Who had delivered the package and when? What did she mean that she
had no idea? If she wasn't interested in performing her duties
properly, maybe she should be looking for a new dwelling place for
herself? And what was she still doing just standing there when she
should be looking into to find out who had sent the darn package?!

As soon as Alma had finally cleared herself out of the room, LaCroix
went to his cabinet and pulled out a bottle from his private stock.
Spilling some of the sweet nectar in his hurry to fill a glass, he
felt himself calm down at last as the dark substance slithered down
his throat.

Now that he'd had a moment to reflect, LaCroix realized that this
teddy bear business was only the last annoyance in a string of
annoyances lately. First, there had been the phone calls and that now
infuriating The Platters song, then the fledgling issue and now this.
What was it? Something in the air, or was there a full moon coming
up?


But despite LaCroix's instructions to Alma, only three days later
there was yet another mysterious package left outside the club's
back-door during the day. And as before, no one knew where it had
come from or who had delivered it, but since it again displayed
LaCroix's name with the same neat lettering on top of it the package
was placed on his desk, waiting for his arrival.

However, this time LaCroix didn't have to guess what was inside the
parcel. The smell alone was a dead give away even if the shape of the
box hadn't already been a fair indicator of things to come.

A dozen blood-red roses perfumed the air as he opened the box. For a
second, he considered simply tossing the flowers into the trash can
and be done with it, but then he thought better of it. Their sender
might have been a thorn in his side, so to speak, but the flowers
themselves were quite lovely. And he knew someone who would
appreciate them.

As he put the flowers in a vase for the night so they'd be nice and
fresh later on, he noticed an envelope in the box under the silk
paper.

"So, the plot thickens..." he muttered to himself, feeling a tinge of
excitement. He liked a good mystery as well as the next person, as
long as he could solve it before it became simply annoying.

For a moment he entertained a thought of Antonia being behind the
puzzle but then admitted that it wasn't very likely; she'd been
genuinely surprised, if also amused, when he'd told her of the teddy
bear incident.

Finally, he opened the envelope and was presented with a ticket to
the opera for the following evening. Wagner's Lohengrin. Not one of
his favorites. Besides, he already had plans for the night in
question.

Still, this was his chance to get to the bottom of this whole 'secret
admirer' business. So, without further deliberation he called for
Alma and gave the ticket to her with stern instructions to attend to
the opera to find out who'd show up, and to bring the guilty party to
him.


But as LaCroix congratulated himself for having taken care of
business, Alma was gnawing her teeth in agitation. She was not an
opera lover, never had been one even when they'd been considered the
height of modern entertainment. And now she was expected - no,
*ordered*, to sit through a production that evidently was too boring
even for LaCroix! Sometimes, she thought, finding a new place for
herself wasn't really such a bad idea, after all.

****

"They're beautiful", Antonia breathed, her face buried in to the
roses. "But what's the occasion?" Her right brow rose up in tandem
with the corners of her mouth. "You do know that Valentine's Day is
still five days away, don't you?"

"Yes, my dear, I am aware of that." LaCroix's smile came easily. "In
fact, I'm afraid I'm not the one to thank for the flowers." At
Antonia's questioning look, he explained. "More gifts from the
Greek."

"The fuzzy bear person?"

"Strikes again." LaCroix nodded in affirmation.

Antonia took another look at the roses before shrugging off her
doubts. "Well, no matter where they came from, they're still
beautiful, so thank you."

Then she headed into the kitchen, where she rummaged through her
cabinets to find a suitable vase for the flowers. LaCroix followed in
her suite and watched her as she carefully began to arrange the
flowers, one by one.

"You know", Antonia said, bulk of her attention still in the flowers.
"I think I'd like a secret admirer, as well."

"You would?" LaCroix's voice sounded amused.

"Sure", Antonia turned to toss him a teasing grin over her shoulder.
"I mean, look at all the cool presents you've been getting. I'd --
ouch! Damn it."

She dropped the rose she'd been trying to place in the vase and
inspected her pricked finger.

"Just, remind me to tell my secret admirer that I like my roses
without the thorns, will ya", she quipped dryly as she lifted her
finger to her mouth.

But before she could lick off the tiny droplet of blood, LaCroix had
seized her hand and beaten her to it. The blood gone, and the small
wound already healed, he still wouldn't let go of her hand but went
on to gently suck on the rest of her fingers. But just as it was
getting really interesting, they were interrupted by a loud ringing
coming from the hall.

With a resigned sigh, LaCroix let go off her hand. "Hold that
thought."


Marching into the hall, he picked up the offending receiver and
practically hissed out his answering words.

"Lucius, mon vieux, is that how you greet an old friend?"

The cheery voice from the other end of the line made LaCroix pause
for a moment.

"Plato."

"Who else?" The smile in Plato's voice obvious before he got down to
business. "I'm sure you already know the reason for this call,
Lucius?"

"A sudden desire to hear my voice?" LaCroix offered.

His reward was a hearty laugh from his old friend. "It is true, I
miss your sense of humor, my friend, but no."

"Well then, I can only assume that you are calling because of the
'orphaned' ones." LaCroix kept his tone light.

There wasn't a hint of amusement left in Plato's voice. "They are
getting out of hand, Lucius."

"Why call me? Shouldn't you be having this conversation with their
idle masters instead, Plato?"

"Oh, I shall, my friend. I shall", Plato assured him pleasantly.
"However, tracking them down will take time, so in the mean while I
am setting the matter into your capable hands. I'm sure I don't have
to tell you what will happen should these fledglings be allowed to
roam unattended for much longer."

The warning in Plato's voice was plain - Take care of the problem or
we will take care of it for you.

"I understand."

*********

The next night, while Alma prepared for an evening of suffering,
LaCroix escorted his wife and their friends, the Rosettis, to The
Alcove.

The Alcove was a nightclub favored by those with a little bit more
mature tastes. Its sophisticated atmosphere was by no means stuffy or
boring, but it definitely represented the other end of the spectrum
when compared, for example, to the Raven or to The Sanctum. It had
also been one of LaCroix and Antonia's favorite nightclubs ever since
she'd began her voluntary exile away from the Raven.


The night went on pleasantly enough and the local jazz band was
surprisingly good. LaCroix didn't even find Cheryl's endless
baby-stories quite as tiring as he usually did. Probably because half
the night, his mind was occupied by bigger problems than teething.

As usual, Cheryl and Fernando called it an early night; they'd
promised their baby-sitter to be back by midnight.


"Why won't we take a short walk while we wait for Lucien to get the
car?" Cheryl suggested. "It's such a nice evening, and I think we
could all use a little fresh air."

Fernando and Antonia agreed with her and the three of them began
their unhurried walk along the narrow sidewalk. It was impossible for
them all to walk side by side, so Antonia dropped a little behind and
enjoyed a moment of relative silence.

However, suddenly that silence was broken by a muffled scream just
ahead of her. All senses alert, Antonia looked up just in time to see
Fernando disappear behind a corner, shouting something she couldn't
quite make out.

Cursing silently for having been sensible and leaving her sword in
the trunk of the Jaguar, Antonia charged after her friends.

What she saw in the alley momentarily froze her to her tracks.

A young woman with blazing eyes held Cheryl by the throat in a
death-grip, snarling ferociously so that her pointed canines were
clearly visible. And Fernando, pale as if he'd just seen a ghost,
shouting at her but afraid to move lest the stranger should hurt his
wife.

Quickly glancing behind herself, Antonia hoped that LaCroix wouldn't
be too far behind them. Then, she stepped beside Fernando and,
touching his stiff arm lightly,  told him to quiet down if he wanted
to do something that would actually help Cheryl.

"Please, Nando, let me handle this." She kept her voice low but there
was an urgent note to it. She couldn't afford for them to attract any
attention, that was to say, any more attention than what they might
have already attracted.

"What do you..? Nia, you don't understand..."

Antonia let Fernando's words wash over her and instead concentrated
on the vampire. She didn't have much time because the vampire could
decide to simply fly off with her prey at any moment now. Or not, if
she was determined to catch more than just one victim that night.
Antonia fervently hoped that she was looking for more than just a
quick snack.

She couldn't remember ever seeing the lithe brunette before. Of
course, since she no longer had a chance to keep tabs on the ever
changing Community that was hardly surprising. But it was a setback.

When she spoke, Antonia kept her tone low and calm as if she was
talking to a frightened child. "Listen, you don't need her. You don't
want to hurt her, okay? She's protected by the Enforcers, and you
don't wanna mess with them, do you? If you're hungry, you can have
me. What do you say? We'll trade, her for me."

All she got for her efforts was a snarl and a wicked grin as the
vampire tightened her grip on Cheryl's larynx.

Mentally, Antonia threw away the kid-gloves. When she spoke up again,
her voice was still low but its soothing quality was but a distant
memory. "Let her go, or prepare to die."

"Nia, have you lost your mind?!" Fernando's strangled but oddly loud
whisper sprang out as soon as she closed her mouth.

Antonia pretended that she hadn't heard him. She knew that there was
nothing she could do if the vampire wanted Cheryl dead but she was
trying to buy them time. Precious time to allow LaCroix to get to
them. Just how long did it take to get his damn car, anyway?

"Someone's gonna die tonight all right but it won't be me, mortal."

The brunette's words lost some of their chill due to her slight lisp.
Either it was a part of her natural speech pattern, or she was so
young that she hadn't yet learnt how to throw threats while fully
vamped out. The thought gave Antonia pause. This could well be one of
the renegades LaCroix had mentioned to her.

And then, *finally*, LaCroix dropped in. Literally. Antonia was
afraid that Fernando and Cheryl were both going to faint but they
settled for smothered squeals.

"Show off", Antonia thought to herself, silently amused at LaCroix's
theatrics. All that had been missing was a cape and he could've tried
out for Batman's photo-double.

Then, everything happened so fast that even she had a little trouble
following.

LaCroix didn't bother with persuasions but cut right to the chase.
Somehow he yanked Cheryl away from the brunette and spun her into the
waiting, comforting arms of her husband.

As soon as Cheryl was out of the vampire's grip, she became
hysterical. She tried to scream but after what her throat had just
been through it simply wouldn't cooperate with her wishes.

While Cheryl and Fernando tried to come to grips with a world
suddenly gone mad, LaCroix had lifted the female vampire high into
the air by her throat. In actuality, it wasn't doing much damage to
her but as she kept on trying to breath and found that it was
becoming increasingly harder she began to panic. And still LaCroix
levitated them even higher up until they reached a rooftop.

"As it turns out, you were right", LaCroix whispered into her ear.
"Someone *is* going die tonight. But I'm afraid it won't be one of
those mortals."

***

"But -- but he's a monster!"

"Nando." There was no mistaking the offence in Antonia's voice.

But Fernando went on as if he hadn't heard her, heedless even to the
fact that the said 'monster' was standing right behind Antonia. "No.
He's a bloody monster and you.. you're married to him! Tell me, Nia,
what does that make you?"

"His wife."

There was a fleeting apology in Fernando's eyes at the sound of
Antonia's voice but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. But as he
opened his mouth to throw more selected truths at her, Antonia
decided that she'd had enough.

"And just so you don't lose the sight of it, that 'monster' just
saved both your lives, Nando, so I suggest you take a real good look
at him and thank your lucky stars that he happened to come along when
he did!"

As much as LaCroix enjoyed witnessing her righteous verbal attack, he
stepped in closer and settled a calming hand on Antonia's shoulder
lest she should decide to abandon the verbal in favor of a physical
attack; she was positively shaking with anger and disappointment.

"They are scared, my love, of what they cannot understand", he
whispered into her ear.

"I don't care", Antonia hissed back. "He had no right to..."

"Shh, calm down. We have more important things to attend to at the
moment, my dear."

With great effort, Antonia managed a court nod.

Giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, LaCroix stepped closer to
Fernando who in turn retreated a matching distance. Shaking his head
a little LaCroix let out an amused breath, did this mortal truly
believe there was safety in distance, after what he'd just witnessed?

"Wha.. what are you..?"

Locking his gaze with Fernando's, LaCroix silenced him. Staring deep
into his brown eyes he told him to forget everything he had just seen
and heard. Once he was certain that the command had taken root and
been accepted, LaCroix created a new memory to replace the one he'd
just taken away. Then, he turned his attention to Cheryl who was
crying silently behind her husband's back, too afraid to make a move,
convinced that they were both going to die.

*********

Two days later, LaCroix woke up to the insistent sound of a doorbell.
He didn't need to look at the clock on his nightstand to know that it
was still day-time. With a sigh, he turned on his other side and
gently shook his sleeping wife's shoulder only to have her burrow
herself deeper into the pillows. When she wasn't having nightmares,
Antonia was a heavy sleeper and it was sometimes hard to wake her up,
to the extreme.

Smiling, LaCroix shook her shoulder again, a bit harder this time.

"Wake up, honey wine", he rasped into her ear, his voice a little
rough from sleep.

"Mmmh."

Antonia turned around to curl up against his chest. No doubt it was
an improvement but she still wasn't awake. For a moment, LaCroix
considered giving up, whoever it was trying to reach them would come
back later if it was something important.

But the doorbell abuser seemed to be the determined kind and he or
she rang the bell yet again, showing no indication of giving up
anytime soon.

With a resigned sigh, LaCroix renewed his efforts. Placing his cold
fingers against Antonia's warm neck usually worked, so he gave it a
try.

"Hmmm, whassamatter?"

Well, she still hadn't opened her eyes but at least she was up to
making semi-coherent questions.

"Honey wine, there's someone at the door. Wake up."

Antonia wasn't a what one would call a morning person and she was
usually pretty grumpy if awakened before she'd gotten her required
eight hours worth of rest. But now, she smiled sleepily at the
endearment he'd taken to calling her in the privacy of their bedroom
ever since Christmas. She thought it was funny and, well, endearing.

Then, cracking her eyes open for a fraction, she glanced at the clock
and gave out a small groan. "What kind of an idiot comes to a visit
at this hour?"

"That's what we need for you to find out." LaCroix smiled.

"Well, you don't have to look so happy about", Antonia grumbled as
she at last tossed on a bathrobe and headed for the door.


LaCroix listened carefully at the brief exchange downstairs and
followed after Antonia as soon as he heard the door close again.

"Who was it?"

"Package delivery." Antonia showed him a small brown box she'd set on
the table in the hall.

Another 'present'. Wonderful.

Alma had only yesterday frostily informed LaCroix that she'd sat next
to an empty seat through all of Lohengrin, so that had been a dead
end. Why this 'admirer' was so keen on staying anonymous was beyond
LaCroix, and frankly, it was beginning to piss him off.

"I suppose I better see what's in it, then", he sighed, reaching for
the box.

"Not so fast, honey." Antonia playfully swapped his hand aside. "This
one's addressed to me."

"To you?" LaCroix was genuinely surprised.

"There's no need to feel neglected." Antonia gave him a teasing
smile. "You've had your fair share of presents lately."

"Guess this means that you've got your own secret admirer, now",
LaCroix remarked good-naturedly. Then, seeing the look Antonia threw
his way, he shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not me this time,
either, my dear."

"Well, only one way to find out..." Antonia picked up the box.

Getting a whiff of something vaguely familiar LaCroix tried to stall
her. "I think it might be better if I opened it. Just in case."

"Oh no." Antonia grinned at him. "It was addressed to me, so I'll get
to open it. You'll get to see what's inside soon enough."

LaCroix was afraid that he already had a fair idea of what was inside
but held his tongue and settled for furrowing his brows as he waited
for her to rip the packet open.

"I don't think there's anythi..." Antonia muttered as she picked out
a layer after layer of silk paper. "No, spoke too soon", she then
declared triumphantly.

"What's tha...? Eww!" Making a face, she took an involuntary step
backwards as she finally had a clear view of the packet's contents.

Steadying her with one arm, LaCroix took a peak into the open box. It
was much as he'd suspected. Resting on top of a mass of pink silk
paper was a dead sparrow.

"You know, much as I hate to disagree with you, I don't think this is
from an admirer", Antonia said, still staring at the dead bird.

***

"So, you think it's the same person?" Antonia asked, nursing a cup of
hot chocolate in front of her as she sat at the kitchen table.

From across the table, LaCroix nodded slowly. "Too much of a
coincidence, otherwise."

"What about the fang chick? Could she have been a part of it, too?"

"No. She was a part of the problem from the other front."

"The orphans?"

"Right." LaCroix gave a small nod, looking thoughtful. "She should
never have been brought across. She was over a month old and she
still had no idea even of the most basic things. Very poor senses. If
the rest of them are anything alike, I'm afraid we have an even
bigger problem in our hands than I had anticipated."

"Still haven't figured out how to handle them, then?" Antonia asked
sympathetically, taking a careful sip from her steaming cup.

"No, not yet." Sighing, LaCroix ran a hand over his face. "Before I
can make any set plans, I need to know whether they are at all
organized or if they are working individually. But, I've got people
checking them out already so, hopefully this matter will be taken
care of in the near future."

They both lapsed into a silence, each mulling over the things that
they'd just discussed, hoping to find the pieces which would finally
solve all the puzzles.

Finishing off her chocolate drink, Antonia got up to rinse her empty
cup. Then, leaning against the sink, she again addressed the problem
at hand.

"Well, what do you think we should do? I mean she -- we're assuming
it's a 'she', right?" At LaCroix's silent agreement Antonia
continued. "I mean, she's obviously lost a few screws. And she
*definitely* doesn't like me. I.. I was thinking that maybe we should
call the police, report the prank calls and the packages. What do you
think?"

LaCroix considered her suggestion for a moment. "Do you truly believe
that the police would be of any use?"

Antonia shrugged a little. "Well, I know they can't do anything about
the calls, and since you tossed out the packages you received, they
won't be of much help but we still have this latest 'present'. I
don't know, they have all sorts of resources... tests they could
perform."

At LaCroix's arched brow, she gave a small, dry smile. "No, to be
honest, I don't really think that they'd be able to do much. I was
actually thinking more on the lines of covering our butts. You know,
should anything happen..."

LaCroix met her gray gaze, understanding her meaning perfectly.
Perhaps her idea wasn't such a bad one after all.


Soon afterwards, they retired back to bed but sleep was a long time
in coming.

*********

With a frustrated sigh, Antonia got up for the umpteenth time and
paced the floor of her home office. It had been like that the whole
evening. She'd brace herself and stare at the flickering computer
screen only to jump up a few moments later and resume her destruction
of the carpet. Her concentration span was reduced to that of a two
year old and she was getting absolutely no work done.

LaCroix had left early that evening to try and settle the problem
Plato had dumped on him. Antonia knew that he was probably busy and
shouldn't be disturbed unless it was an emergency and yet, she'd
found herself with a receiver in hand for more than a couple of times
already. She just wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice, then
she'd be able to go on with her own work. Maybe.

She'd just sat back down once again when the phone rang. Jumping up
like a hyper five year old, she raced to the hall, grateful for
whatever interruption. She'd even gladly become a lifetime subscriber
for the Wonderful World of Grass Growers magazine if the
subscriptions collector would just talk with her for a few minutes.


"Hello."

"You bitch!"

For a second, Antonia was certain that she'd finally lost it and was
in the throes of some weird hallucination. But the heavy, angry
breathing from the other end of the line sounded real enough, so in
the end, she chose to believe that she'd actually just heard what she
thought she had.

"Excuse me? Who is this?"

"You conniving, dirty little harlot! I don't know what you're holding
over his head but you're going down! There's *nothing* that you can
do to keep us apart. He's MINE!"

Welcome to La-La Land.

Holding the receiver a little ways off her ear for the fear of
otherwise becoming deaf, Antonia let the litany of following
obscenities slide by. By now, she'd brilliantly deduced that she was
in fact having a conversation of sorts with the fuzzy bear lady
herself.

"Listen", she inserted as soon as the woman at last paused to draw
breath. "I don't know where you get your delusions, lady, but my
husband's with me because he wants to, not because I've got him in
shackles."

"You lying tramp! I know your game - and you're going to lose! He
doesn't love you! He's *never* loved you! You hear?! NEVER! *I'm* his
wife and there's nothing your dirty lies can do about that!"

Houston, we have a problem.

There was nothing to be gained by continuing the call, the woman was
obviously delusional, but Antonia was loathed to break the
connection. This was their first, and quite possibly their last,
chance to find out who the woman was. But how was she supposed to
reason with someone so obviously out of reach?

"Listen." Antonia made sure her voice was calm and rational as she
tried again. "Why don't you tell me your name and maybe we can
discuss this..."

"NO!"

Antonia was rudely interrupted before she'd even had a chance to
begin her persuasion.

"You just leave him alone! I know what you're trying to do and it's
not gonna work!"

Antonia pretended that she hadn't heard her and continued to speak as
calmly as she could. "Why don't we meet? We could talk, face to face.
What do you say? If you could tell me where you live...?"

"You're -- You're just trying to trick me, you bitch! WELL, I'M NOT
STUPID!!" Then the bitter, near hysterical voice suddenly changed
into a sweet purr. "If you want to know where I live, why don't you
ask the Nightcrawler? He knows where I am. My *husband* knows exactly
where to find me."

"The Nightcrawler?" Antonia repeated, fighting to keep her voice
non-committal but failing miserably.

"That's right." The voice sounded almost smug now. "In fact, he's
over here right now and we're having a *wonderful* time."

"You're with him now." It wasn't really a question but more like a
statement. An unbelieving one.

"Thaaat's right." The woman was definitely bragging now. "He just
can't keep away from me - or his hands off me."

"Then what are you doing on the phone talking to me?" Antonia
deadpanned.

She'd about had it. Her reality wasn't a match for this woman's
fantasy, and frankly, she was getting tired of this stupid game. But
before she could figure out what to say next, she found herself
listening to a busy signal. The woman had hang up on her.

Thoughtfully, Antonia put the receiver down. Worrying her lower lip
between her teeth, she tried to decide whether or not to call LaCroix
but in the end she decided that her news could wait until he came
back home; he had enough on his mind with the fledglings, anyway.

***

The evening had been far from a success. His 'spies' hadn't found
much of useful information of the new young vampires who's actions
were threatening to expose their existence to the mortal world. And,
to make matters worse, it was beginning to seem like the young ones
were indeed all working individually. At least, so far there had been
nothing to indicate that they were organized as a group. At worst,
that could mean that they were all going to have to be terminated,
one by one. That was, unless they were willing to recognize the
errors of their ways and abide by the laws of the Community.

"Why couldn't they just have been organized?" LaCroix asked himself,
his voice resentful at their lack of consideration. It would've made
the whole thing so much easier on him - and for them. Had they been
acting as a larger group, the problem they presented could've been
taken care of by simply having taken on their leader. But as things
stood, the process would take infinitely longer, and despite his
efforts they might still have to endure a visit from the Enforcers.

Shrugging, LaCroix straightened his posture and leaned back in his
chair. Powerful as he was, he wasn't omnipotent, no matter what the
rumors claimed. He would do what had to be done but if Plato still
saw fit to send in his troops, so be it. He had learned long ago that
life couldn't always be pleasant. But he'd survive, he had before.

Pushing the matter determinedly out of his mind, LaCroix then began
to prepare for his radio show. His subject for the night - the
importance of discipline in bringing up children.

*********

Glancing down at his watch, LaCroix suppressed an impatient sigh
choosing instead to push the elevator's call button yet again. This
Valentine's Day wasn't off to a great start. First, the meeting with
the directors at his CERK station had run long and now because the
elevator refused to cooperate, he was going to be even more late in
meeting Antonia.

While LaCroix waited for the lift, he went over his plans for the
night. He wanted this night to be special and fun, a chance for both
himself and Antonia to relax and forget about the various problems
they'd had to tackle with lately.

The thought of those troubles caused his brows to furrow suddenly in
irritation. Only last night, Antonia had received a call from that
crazy woman who had been harassing them for weeks now. The lady
must've had a busy night since she'd taken the time to call him, as
well; in the middle of the Nightcrawler show, he'd once again gotten
an earful of The Platters. If he never heard 'Only You' again it
would be too soon.

Finally, the lift arrived. When LaCroix reached the lobby, he could
see Antonia approaching the glass doors. She smiled when she spotted
him inside. Maybe she wasn't too upset with him, after all.

Hastening his steps, LaCroix met her at the door.

"I'm sorry, I'm late", Antonia breathed as soon as LaCroix stepped
outside. "The phone rang just as I was about to leave and..."

LaCroix smiled. "No need to apologize, my dear. I'm afraid I was late
myself."

"Ah, that's good." Antonia grinned a little. "Great minds and all
that, eh?"

"Or, perhaps it was telepathy." LaCroix returned her jest.

"Telepathy?" Antonia arched her brow.

"Subconscious telepathy." LaCroix cleared his statement.

"I'm afraid you must be mistaken, my dear. I do not believe there is
such a thing as subconscious telepathy. My dear." Antonia did her
best to imitate LaCroix but the effort, lost a little something when
she couldn't help a small giggle from escaping.

LaCroix was glad to see her in such a good mood. They had obviously
both made the same decision to put aside any and all unpleasantness
and simply enjoy life for one night.

He gave her a small bow and offered her his arm. "Shall we go then,
my Lady? Your carriage awaits."

Her grin widened a little at their playful silliness as she dropped a
quick curtsey and accepted his offered arm. "Thank you, kind Sir.
It's a lovely evening, is it not?"

Before he could answer her, a shrill scream came from behind them.

"YOU LIAR!!! You promised to be mine!"

Even as LaCroix whirled around, he knew he was going to be too late.
There were people all around them, screaming and ducking for cover,
and there was nothing he could do but play along.

Pushing Antonia aside, he faced a woman of thirty-something and
watched her pull the trigger of a gun she was pointing squarely
towards his chest. When he felt the impact of the bullets he crashed
down with a scream, clutching his chest, hoping that it looked like
the real thing. He also hoped that most of the bullets would stop in
him and not go straight through; less damage control later on.

When he was down, the crazed shooter turned towards Antonia.

Crying, she raised her gun. "You should've listened to me. I *told*
you to leave him alone."

"NO!"

At LaCroix's cry, the woman turned her attention back to him. That
was all he needed. Holding her watery eyes, he wrapped his mind
around hers and squeezed, forcing her to submit.

"You don't want to shoot anyone else. Can't you feel how tired your
hand is? I don't think you have enough strength to hold the gun
anymore, so why won't you put it on the ground?"

The woman did as he'd told her. As soon as she'd put down the gun,
Antonia pushed it further away and ran to LaCroix.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked him with a quiet whisper,
glancing nervously at the people around them.

"What else? Act as if I'm dying", LaCroix whispered back, with a
twinkle in his eye. "Only, please my dear, hold the hysterics. I
believe we've had enough of them for one night."

Nodding, Antonia pressed her palms against his wounds, which had
already began to heal, and blinked her eyes furiously in an effort to
produce tears. Lifting her head, she looked frantically at the crowd.

"Somebody call an ambulance! Please, somebody help us!" She hoped she
sounded distraught enough while at the same time, she was praying
that there wouldn't be any doctors or nurses among the spectators.

LaCroix found himself rather impressed with his wife's acting skills.
She was even murmuring 'encouraging' words into his ear to complete
the act of a frightened and grieving spouse.

But a strangled sound from their left reminded LaCroix of the woman
who had put them both in their current predicament.

"You promised... you promised..." The woman chanted over and over
again with a strange, monotonous voice.

Turning his head slightly, LaCroix pierced the woman's eyes anew.
"Why won't you sit down and wait for the police. They will take care
of you." He paused to wait for her to act upon the suggestion. Once
she was settled, he pressed on. "I hear that confession is good for
the soul. And you desperately want to feel good, don't you?"

Slowly, the woman nodded. When LaCroix released her mind, she crossed
her arms tightly in front of herself and began shivering.

***

At the hospital, LaCroix was pronounced D.O.A. He had to wait a few
hours until someone took him down to the morgue from where he was
finally able to make a clean getaway and go back home.

For Antonia, the trip to the Mercy Hospital was only the beginning of
a very long night.

It was almost dawn when she found herself at the 96th precinct, where
she had the questionable pleasure to be interviewed by Detective
Vetter once again. It seemed that every time something that required
attention from the police happened, she was being faced with Vetter.
What was she, the only cop in town?

This time, however, the interview didn't proceed along the familiar
script as she wasn't the suspect in this case.

"You'll be glad to hear that the suspect has made a full confession,
Mrs. LaCroix", Tracy stated.

Blinking her eyes tiredly, Antonia automatically corrected her.
"Jones."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's Mrs. Jones. I kept my maiden name when we were married."
Brushing her hand across her mouth, Antonia tried to suppress a yawn.
"I'm sorry but is it really necessary to go through all this right
now? I..."

"I apologize, Mrs. Jones", Tracy said, sounding sympathetic. "I know
this is hard for you but we just need to go through a few more
things. I promise it won't take much longer and it will help our
case."

With a sigh, Antonia nodded. "What do you want to know, Detective?"

"I understand that the suspect had made contact with you and your
husband several times prior to tonight. Is that correct?"

"Yes, we filed a report of all that just two nights ago", Antonia
said, trying to make her voice quiver a little. It was really tiring
to act as if she'd just lost the most important person in her life.
She was afraid that if she had to go on for much longer, she might
forget her act, simply because she was so tired.

"I'm sorry, Detective. What did you say?" She suddenly realized that
she'd zoned out just as Tracy had asked her something.

"According to your statement, she'd been harassing you for weeks. Why
did you wait for so long before filing the report?" Tracy repeated
her question.

Blinking away fake tears, Antonia averted her eyes. "Because we
didn't think that there was anything you could have done, really. I
mean, it was just phone calls at first, and Lucien.." At this, point
her voice crumbled a little, as it had done every time she'd
mentioned his name. "Lucien said that all stations get their share of
prank calls, that it wasn't anything to worry about."

Glancing through the report in her hand, Tracy nodded slowly. "I
see." Then she met Antonia's red-rimmed eyes again. "Just one last
question, Mrs. Jones. Had you ever seen the suspect prior tonight?"

Glad that there was at least one question she could answer
truthfully, Antonia shook her head. "No, never."

"All right, thank you very much Mrs. Jones. I'm sure we won't have to
trouble you again." Pausing for a moment to gather the papers she'd
spilled across the table, Tracy then looked up again with genuinely
sympathetic eyes. "I'm very sorry about your husband, Mrs. Jones."

"Thank you."

Antonia was almost out of the door already when she suddenly turned
back. She had to know.

"Detective? You said that she confessed, but did she tell you why?"

"What drove her to it? No." Tracy shook her head gently, and watched
Antonia close the door quietly behind herself.

*********

It was a cold and gray February evening, very appropriate for a
memorial service even if the hour was somewhat unconventional.

Taking one final look around the small chapel, Antonia was actually a
little surprised that everything had come together as well as it had
despite the shortage of time.

It had been only three days since LaCroix's 'death'. The hospital
representative had been beside himself, trying to explain to the
grieving widow that the morgue had somehow managed to 'misplace' the
body of her husband only a few hours after it had been delivered
there. However, with a little magic a la LaCroix, the situation had
soon been taken care of and Antonia had gotten a replacement body for
the cremation.

However, no magic trick could have gotten rid of the press which had
eaten up the murder of the 'local radio personality' like hungry
dogs. It was mostly local papers but there had been an amazing number
of phone calls and the like from different radio and television
stations, as well. Antonia had deduced that it must've been an
otherwise slow news week.

Still, the small number of media hounds who had parked themselves
outside the chapel had taken her by surprise. She would've thought
that the rampant speculation of the events leading to the shooting
would've been enough for them. She certainly hadn't expected them to
milk the situation to the last drop as they now seemed to be bent on
doing. Therefore, it had been a stroke of good luck that she'd
decided to arrive to the chapel too early. As soon as she'd realized
what was going on, she'd called Plato who had arranged for some
muscle to help keep the dogs outside.

Glancing down at her watch, Antonia straightened her posture, it was
almost show time. 'Show' being the operative word. Shaking her head a
little, Antonia couldn't help thinking that LaCroix would've
absolutely hated it. So, it was a good thing that he'd left to New
York the night before.

*Had* it been the real thing, though... Well, she wouldn't have been
in a chapel right then for starters. And there sure as hell wouldn't
be a minister quoting The Bible, nor the press waiting for a
statement outside.

But thank heavens, it wasn't the real thing. It was a show. Granted,
not a very good one but one none the less, for the benefit of the
uninitiated.

Still, Antonia could've gladly strangled Alma for wearing that --
thing. She'd asked everyone to dress appropriately. Obviously, she
should've drawn a picture for Alma. How that piece of cloth she
called a dress stayed on her was beyond Antonia. On the bright side,
even she had to admit that Alma had done wonders with the
decorations; the flower arrangements were understated, yet tasteful.

The guests, then, were another chapter altogether.

When Antonia hadn't had a clue as to who to ask to pose as mourners,
LaCroix had taken care of the problem by 'strongly suggesting' that
Alma and Miklos make themselves available. Then, Janette had showed
up with Vachon in tow. Antonia wasn't entirely certain whether she'd
come just for the fun of it or if she had LaCroix to thank for these
guests, as well. And finally, there was Plato. The Enforcer, she
knew, was getting a kick out of the whole charade but as long as he
behaved himself when it mattered, she couldn't have cared less for
his reasons. Besides, perhaps he deserved to have a little fun now
that the little renegade fledgling problem was once again firmly back
in his hands.

Taking another quick look at her watch, Antonia finally decided that
her last two guests hadn't made it after all, when they at last
arrived.

Cheryl and Fernando had been amazingly considerate and solicitous of
her ever since they'd first heard of the news. In fact, when they'd
learned that none of LaCroix's family probably wouldn't be able to
make it to the funeral due to the short notice, they'd insisted upon
helping her out with all of the arrangements. It had taken Antonia
quite some time, time which she really could've used more
productively, to convince them that she had everything under control.
After that, they'd settled for being there for her in her hour of
need, for moral support.

It had all been truly been very kind of them. Antonia couldn't have
wished for better friends, especially had her new widowhood been for
real. However, the fact that *she* could still remember the events
from only a few short nights before, bright and clear, put a little
damper into her gratitude towards them. Just because Cheryl and
Fernando no longer had any recollection of their reactions towards
herself and LaCroix didn't mean that all was well and forgotten. Try
as she might, Antonia had found that the nature of their friendship
had sadly, but irrevocably changed.

The Rosettis had once been like a second family to her, and deep down
she had sometimes entertained the thought of perhaps one day telling
them of her Immortality, of LaCroix. So she wouldn't have to give up
on them for the second time. So that she could still have something
from her old life, of her family, of her childhood to cling to. So
that they would be the ones she would *choose* to trust with her
secrets. Because they were family. Because she loved them. And now
she knew that she couldn't.

She walked over to greet the couple and then showed them to their
seats as the ceremony was at long last about to begin.


"My dear friends, as we are gathered here to remember Lucien LaCroix,
our beloved brother who was so tragically taken away before his time,
let us remember these words, 'In my Father's house are many
mansion...'"

********************

     Only you can make this world seem right
     Only you can make the darkness bright
     Only you and you alone
     Can thrill me like you do
     And fill my heart with love for only you

     Only you can make this change in me
     For it's true you are my destiny
     When you hold my hand I understand
     The magic that you do
     You're my dream come true
     My one and only you

     Only you can make this change in me
     For it's true you are my destiny
     When you hold my hand I understand
     The magic that you do
     You're my dream come true
     My one and only you