Curiouser Still...
Part 3

See Part 1 for notes and disclaimers and all that other stuff.  Lost
parts can be found at http://www.loftworks.com/wftk/fiction.html

     Nick took a long look at his sister, the first in almost 800
hundred years.  She was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that
announced in white letters 'Dead and Loving It!'
     Her mother shook her head at Fleur's attire.
     "What?" Fleur asked.
     "Nothing, dear," her mother murmured.  It was obvious to Nick
that Fleur was still as wild as always.
     Nick raised an eyebrow.  "Love the outfit, Fleur.  I see you move
right along with the times."
     Fleur made a face and turned her brilliant gaze on Nick.
     "Is there anything untrue about it?" she demanded.
     "Not that I know of," Nick admitted.  "You are dead, and you look
very happy."
     Fleur rolled her eyes.  "Of course I'm dead.  We're all
dead--more or less."  She paused for a moment and furrowed her brow as
she thought about it.  "Actually, I guess we're more dead than you.
You're more...corporeal."
     Nick laughed and walked across the room, picked her up and swung
her around in his arms.
     "You feel pretty solid to me, Fleur."
     She laughed.  "Well, of course, I feel solid.  I pumped up on
ectoplasm this morning.  I had to.  So I could come and see you.  And
you look ...just the same, Nicolas."
     Nick shrugged.  "You could say that.  I suppose I do, but I feel
old.  You, on the other hand, look great.  Better than ever," he said
putting her down.
     Fleur shook her head.  "Not exactly.  There are crowsfeet around
my eyes.  I may not have lived to a ripe old age, but I did live long
enough to get a few wrinkles."
     Nick hugged her and looked deeply into her eyes.  "The operative
word, here, is lived.  You *did live*."
     Their mother watched from the couch.  She shook her head, sat
back and decided to let them work it through without a referee.
     Fleur narrowed her eyes.  "Don't waste any time, do you,
Nicolas?"
     "That is why you wanted to come, isn't it?" Nick countered.
     "Well, it should have been my choice!"
     "Do I look like it's been a joy ride?"
     "You look pretty damn good to me."
     "Looks are deceiving.  My life is a living hell.  There is no
respite, Fleur.  Ever.  I'm always hungry.  Always."
     "You aren't keeping anyone in the cellar anymore for your
midnight snacks--to sate your so-called hunger!"
     "No.  I'm drinking bottled swill.  I hate it.  I want human blood
just as badly now as I always did.  I deprive myself of all of it.
The 'midnight snacks', the power, the control, the sensuality, the
sex, the lust.  All of it.  I gave it up.  I work with mortals.  Help
them.  Save them.  And I still *want them!  Want their blood!* Working
among them is a test of endurance.  Every.  Single.  Day."
     "It doesn't have to be that way.  You don't have to be like that,
Nicolas!  It doesn't have to be like that.  You can get donor blood.
I know, I checked.  And...you could be with him!" Fleur said her anger
overflowing.
     "And what the hell do you know about being with him?" Nick
countered.  "He isn't all tender kindness and loving words.  He likes
to torture people--especially me.  He *enjoys* it.  You would have met
that side of him the first time you crossed him."
     "I *loved* him."
     "But you didn't know him.  Not really.  You knew him for two
days, Fleur.  You were infatuated--and so was he," Nick said angrily.
     "That didn't give you the right to make the decision for us!"
     "No," Nick said softly turning away from her and walking across
the room.  He turned and looked back at her.  "It didn't.  But a
decision had to be made.  Someone with a little perspective, and it
wasn't you or LaCroix.  So, I made it.  Right or wrong.  I made it.
I'm sorry.  But I still stand by it.  I made it based on what I knew
about the death I was living as opposed to the life I had lived.
Fleur, we weren't going to be there for weeks or months in which you
could be sure of your heart, be sure you wanted the lust and hunger
over the light of day and the warmth of the sun.  How many times did
you make a rash decision that you regretted?  You and I are alike that
way.  I made a rash decision, and I'm still paying for it.  I didn't
want you to pay that price.  Ever."
     Fleur stared at him, her fingers clenched, but her face
uncertain, the anger giving way.
     "Would you give up Andre for Lucien?" Nick asked quietly.
     "That's not *fair*!"
     "No, it's not.  Would you?"
     Fleur turned away this time to stare at the anguished painting
above his fridge.  Silence reigned.  Then she sighed and shook her
head.
     "No, I wouldn't trade Andre for Lucien."
     "Then maybe, Fleur, petite, you can forgive me.  'Sil vous
plait?" Nick asked softly, quietly.
     She turned around to look at him, her face crumpling up.  Tears
slid down her cheeks as she met him halfway and they embraced.
     Elisabeth smiled from her front row seat on the couch and nodded.
Things would be better now.
     "I'm sorry, Nicolas," Fleur whispered.  "I've been carrying that
around for such a long, long time.  If you had died like any
self-respecting de Brabant, we could have worked this out centuries
ago."
     Nick laughed through his own tears.  "I'm sorry, Fleur.  I'll try
and do that as soon as I can."
     Laughter erupted out of Fleur and her mother at the same time.
     "Oh, Nicolas," Fleur said letting him go and looking at his
tear-stained face.  "You have a long way to go, yet, before you'll
join us in our less solid form.  You may be dead, but you've got a lot
of living to do, still."  As she spoke, she dabbed at his cheeks with
a linen handkerchief she had pulled out of thin air.
     Elisabeth joined her children and hugged them both.  "There, that
is much better.  The air in here feels rain-fresh now, don't you
agree?"
     Nick snaked an arm around his mother and hugged her, his eyes
twinkling.  "I would never disagree with you, Maman."
     She pinched his cheek.
     "Ow..."
     "Of course you would.  You always have, and then you always say
the same thing.  You never disagree.  You haven't changed.  Now, I
must go start on lunch.  This chocolate cake takes concentration."
     "You're making a chocolate cake?" Fleur breathed.  "Oh, chocolate
is so...divine."
     "Then you can come and help," her mother commanded.  She pointed
at Nick.  "And you, too.  I've seen you cook for Natalie, so I know
you can do it."
     Nick laughed and followed his mother and Fleur into the kitchen.
     Nick couldn't recall the last time he had felt this way--so happy
and content--but he suspected it had been the last time he'd been with
his family before his fateful encounter with Janette and LaCroix.
While his mother brought him joy and happiness, Fleur brought back all
the sibling rivalry...
     "What are you doing, Nicolas?" Fleur demanded as Nick measured
the flour out for the cake--flour he knew he didn't have but seemed to
have appeared in his cupboard out of thin air.
     "Getting the flour," Nick said automatically.
     Fleur laughed.  "Not very well."
     "Like you could do it better."
     Fleur jiggled his arm, causing him to spill the flour.
     "Fleur!" Nick said as half of the flour landed on the counter in
a heap.
     "See."
     Nick, with a grin, scooped up the flour and threw it in her face.
"Yeah, I see."
     Fleur, coughing, responded by throwing the water she was holding
in his face.
     Nick started to laugh, and then Fleur joined him.  He hugged her
tightly.  "Don't every change."
     "As if I would.  Who would keep you in line?" Fleur said wiping
away the flour with a dishtowel.
     Nick just smiled.  He felt wonderful.  He felt so happy, so very,
very happy.
     "If you two are done now, could I have the flour and water?"
their mother asked dryly.
     Laughing, they got back to work.
     "So," Nick asked Fleur, "how is Andre?"
     "He's fine.  He said to say he is sorry, by the way."
     "I know.  He told me so when I saw him just before his wedding."
     "Well, he is still bothered by it."
     "Like I'm not.  I'm the one who was in the cellar...with the
midnight snacks."
     Fleur nudged him on the shoulder.  "And that was very bad, too."
     "I made sure he was left with a good family," Nick said softly.
"I did the best I could."
     "I know.  And you took good care of his inheritance for him.  He
truly was grateful.  He just didn't ever know how to feel comfortable
with you."
     "That's why I stayed out of sight.  Besides, it was better that
way.  LaCroix might have done something worse to him, if I'd stayed
closer."
     "I know."
     "You know?" Nick said incredulously.  "Then what was that we just
went through?"
     Fleur shrugged.  "I know what he did to you and Andre, It still
didn't make me any less mad that you just hypnotized me and told
Lucien to forget it.  You know me, I want what I want."
     Nick hugged her.  "Yeah, I know."
     "I wish I had lived, though.  Andre had seven children.  And five
of them made it to adulthood."  Fleur stopped for a moment and then
added wistfully, "I would have loved being a grandmother."  She took a
breath and went on in more bracing tones, "Considering how poorly we
did at keeping the family line going, Andre certainly made up for it.
Family reunions are huge!"
     "You have family reunions?" Nick asked incredulously as he handed
Elisabeth the flour (finally).
     "Yes.  They run into the millions.  It's a pretty big deal.  They
have one about every fifty years."
     Nick shook his head, not able to take it in.  He couldn't imagine
that many people trying to get together.  How would you see everybody?
Where would they meet, and how long did they go on for?
     "They last about a month," Fleur said as if reading his mind as
she cracked eggs into a bowl for a sauce.
     "Even your father goes," Elisabeth added.  "He really enjoys
them.  Hand me those beaters, please."
     "Father?" Nick said softly, handing them over.  "How is he?"
     Fleur shrugged.  "Same as always."
     "He died when you were five," Nick said.
     "So, I've known him for about eight-hundred, since."
     "Fleur, be nice to your brother.  He hasn't seen his Father in
all that time.  Not since Nicolas was..."
     "Seventeen," Nick finished.  He looked at his mother, wondering,
hoping, "Is he coming by, too?"
     "No, dear," his mother said softly.  "This came up very
suddenly--the opportunity to see you--and your father is off hunting
with his brother for a week.  We only have twenty-four hours...We
didn't know..."
     Nick stared down at the floor feeling something akin to sorrow,
yet knowing it was better this way.  What would he ever say to his
father?  How could he make any excuse for his choices?  His life?  But
still, he would like to have seen him, no matter the pain of it.  Just
to look in his father's face.  Nick felt tears pricking at his eyes
and blinked them back.  And then the rest of what his mother said made
it into his reeling brain.  He looked up at her curiously and asked,
"Why only twenty-four?"
     "Because.  Don't ask.  I can't tell you," Elisabeth said uneasily
handing him the bowl full of batter, without looking at him.  "Now
pour this in the pan."
     Nick recognized that some things wouldn't be answered.  Be it a
dream he was having or a strange altered reality, some rocks just
couldn't be turned over, and some questions best left untouched.
     Nick shrugged and took the bowl and poured the batter in the pan.
That at least he could do.
     Moments later the cake went in the oven.  A souffle joined it.
     "Ah, now we can look at pictures and learn more about Natalie,"
Elisabeth said.
     Fleur grinned wickedly.  "Oh, yes, we definitely want to know
more about Natalie."
     "And this...job that you do," his mother finished.
     Nick knew he was in for it now.

     Two hours later, lunch was only a memory.  The souffle, sauce,
delicate vegetables and chocolate gateau were all a memory.  The table
was littered with the remains of one of the best meals he could ever
remember having, while he, Fleur and their mother sat on the floor
amid scattered photograph albums and loose pictures, laughing.  Fleur
lay on her stomach leafing through an album of pictures from his
travels in Viet Nam.  His mother was looking at pictures from the last
precinct picnic.
     "And this is your...partner?  Skank-key?  He looks like Henri the
Butcher."
     Fleur leaned over and peered at it.  "He does, sort of, doesn't
he?"
     "No, he doesn't," Nick said with a frown.  "At least, I don't
think so," wondering if *that* was why Schanke had always seemed
familiar.
     "So you spend all night driving around looking for murderers,
no?"
     "Uh, no.  Actually we wait until somebody reports finding a body,
then we go out and collect evidence from the scene and try and figure
out who did it."
     "Why?" Fleur asked curiously.
     "So we can find them and bring them to justice.  Stop them from
killing or harming anybody else."
     "Is that what everybody who is a 'Cop' does?" Elisabeth asked.
     "No.  There are those who patrol to help people in trouble, and
when needed, keep the peace, and there are those who go around handing
out tickets for illegal parking."
     "That's silly," Fleur said.  "Just take their carriages away."
     "Cars," Nick corrected.  "And sometimes they do that, too."
     "And Natalie spends her time with the dead bodies," Fleur said
with a shudder.  "That is very strange."
     "Only to someone who isn't used to the times," Nick said.
     "Well, whatever she does, I think she is very beautiful.  I would
like to meet her."
     Nick glanced up at the clock.  "She's probably up, Maman.  In
fact, she's most likely getting ready to go to work.  I could call
her."
     "Well, it probably wouldn't be a good idea, anyway.  How do you
introduce your mother when she's been dead eight-hundred years?  Even
if she does know all about you and spends her time trying to cure you,
I think this would be a little hard to swallow."
     Nick laughed and hugged his mother. "You'd be surprised what
Natalie can absorb without even blinking an eye."
     "Maman," Fleur said softly.  "We couldn't anyway.  Only Nicolas
can see us."
     Nick frowned and looked at them.  "What do you mean?"
     "Fleur is right," Elisabeth said, with a sigh, picking up a
picture of Nick and Natalie from the picnic and looking at it
wistfully.  "Only you are allowed to see us."
     Nick lay down and propped himself up with his elbow.  "Why is
that?  And...why did you come--why now?  After all this time--I really
don't understand."
     Elisabeth brushed the softly curling, golden hair off of Nick's
brow.  "Because you were thinking of me--you were so afraid I would be
ashamed of you.  I couldn't bear it."
     Nick felt tears pricking at his eyes.  There was a lump deep
inside his throat.  He remembered all too clearly his thoughts when
he'd gone to bed.  The longing, the aching, the emptiness he'd felt.
It seemed she knew all along what he'd been, and still loved him.  He
could hardly bear it.
     "Besides," Fleur added, sitting up, "they said you were due a
holiday."
     Nick was startled back into reality (or whatever this was) by
Fleur's words.  "Who said I was due for a holiday?  What kind of
holiday?"
     "Them," Fleur said pointing upwards.  "They said.  You know,
'Them'. "


End Part 3
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