Subject: Another Post-LK Story by S. Clark (01/01) Date: Fri, 16 Apr 1999 10:02:28 -0700 From: clark To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu Ok, I tried not to watch LK. I failed. So I told myself, I wouldn't write Post LK fanfic. Well, to paraphrase Darth, "Now my failure is complete." Enjoy. Feedback is always welcomed. A couple short notes. First, this is for Shelia, who wanted a birthday story. Second, if you like Post-LK stories, the "Shades of Eternity" charity zine, Post-LK from a N&NPack POV will be ending it's print run this month. If you're interested, check out: http://www.best.com/~sclark/fk/charity.htm. Permission given to archive at fkfanfic website and the FTP site. No other permission is granted to repost/reprint/reuse. But if you're interested, just ask. This story is based on characters and situations that aren't mine. Thanks to TPTB for their use. "Another Post-LK Story by S. Clark" by S. Clark Natalie heard the voice. It sounded as if it was coming to her from a distance. "That's right, my dear. Come back to me." She opened her eyes. In the low lighting, the figure before her slowly came into focus. "Whoa? Where?" She moved her right hand, to use it to steady herself so she could move to a sitting position. But something was just beside her. Or, more precisely, someone was just beside her. "Is he?" Her voice trembled, just slightly. "He," the word was given particular emphasis, "is a lot of things. Fortunately, hard-headed is among the list." LaCroix helped Natalie to her feet. She leaned against him, feeling light headed and more than a little dizzy. "But, he is, if that is the question." She looked down at the prone figure of Nicholas Knight. "What did you do to him?" "Just a swift blow to the skull. No permanent damage." Natalie nodded in approval. "Serves him right. I offer myself to him. Everything. And what do I get? A quick kiss, no tongue, a bit of slobber on the wrist, and right away into the huge, human hickey." LaCroix gripped her hand. "I know, my dear. He's always been like that, thinking of himself first." LaCroix guided her to a chair, knowing she wasn't yet to the point where she could support herself. Then he gathered a few things from around the loft such as a treasured issue of "FQ" (Fangs Quarterly) magazine. Giving one last look around, LaCroix decided all was in order. Blinds closed. Refrigerator stocked. Nicholas lying comatose on the floor. "Are you ready to travel?" Natalie nodded. "But what about?" She indicated the prone figure. "Him? He'll spend a day angsting. Then, realizing he's wanted by the intrusive human authorities, he'll leave. Based on past experience, the first ten years he'll be absolutely morose. The next twenty-five he'll mope. And, after about fifty, he may actually become fun again." "Well, let's hope it takes him at least that long to find us." Natalie offered her hand to LaCroix. "Shall we?" LaCroix helped her to her feet, and escorted her to the lift. By the time the sun rose over Toronto that day, he was aloft in a private jet, cabin sealed against sunlight. His new companion, soon to be his newest child, Natalie Lambert, at his side. "What are you thinking?" he asked, as he saw a wistful smile come to her lips. "I'm just wondering what makes you an expert on peaches." LaCroix couldn't wait for the chance to show her.