by Mom-Ra
Fandom: Forever Knight
Status: WIP
Series: Reconciliation
Overall series rated R - for sex, violence, bloodshed, language, and stuff like that.
Archive: yes, please!
Feedback is appreciated, and I'll write you back. momra1@lycos.com
Reonciliation Chapter 13:(I think) © 2001 by Mom-Ra
Pairing: Vachon/Tracy
Summary: Tracy finds out V-man has been two-timing her. She realizes something else about her boyfriend's boyfriend, and boy! is she pissed off.
The Other Man 2
by Mom-Ra
Tracy shrugged off her jacket before she pushed aside the muslin curtain, and called, "Vachon? You awake?"
"Sure, come on in, Button."
She wrinkled her nose at him, "I've told you, stop calling me that."
Vowing silently to kill her partner for telling Vachon her childhood nickname, she walked towards the bed, but stopped abruptly when she saw that Vachon's dark eyes had a languid glow, warm and velvety with spent passion.
She narrowed her eyes, and said, "Looks like somebody's been sleeping in your bed, baby bear."
"What makes you think-"
"I just ran into Goldilocks on his way out."
"Oh." Vachon pulled up the persimmon-colored wool blanket, hoping to conceal the blood-splattered sheets, and scooted over to make room for her.
"Haven't you had enough for one night?" Tracy glared at him.
"Come on, Trace. I just want to cuddle." He gave her a sweet, apologetic smile and she relented. With a frustrated sigh, she lay down on top of the covers, with her head on his shoulder. Tracy heard his heart beat only once while the minutes went by as they lay together.
Vachon stroked her smooth blonde hair, and whispered, "Talk to me, Tracy."
"I just wish you would've told me you were involved with-"
"Nick and I ... we're not involved." he lied, "We've only been ... it doesn't mean anything ... we're just fooling around."
"Oh. Well. That's different." she said acidly.
"It is different, Tracy."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she shot a poisonous look at him, "You've been fucking someone else, but it's okay, because it doesn't mean anything, you're just fooling around?"
"Um ... no. I guess not." Vachon mumbled. "I'm sorry, querida."
"Do you call him that?"
"Well, no. Not querida."
"Don't get literal on me. Querido, then."
Vachon didn't answer, he felt so terrible that he hadn't been brave enough to tell her, that she'd had to figure it out for herself. After a while, he said softly, "I was going to tell you. Honest."
"Hmmp. You might have told me you play for both teams, at least."
Vachon smiled at the euphemism, then raised up to look at her, his face unusually serious. "Um, I lied to you-"
"Yeah, I noticed."
"We aren't just fooling around." he confessed, "Nick means a lot to me, but I thought ... I didn't want to hurt you. I'm so sorry, Tracy."
"I can't believe Nick would come on to you. I mean, he knows we've been going together."
"Uh, he didn't. I came on to him."
Vachon waited meekly while Tracy called him all sorts of horrible, perfectly applicable names. After she had vented her rage, she began firing questions at him.
"Well, it just kind of happened." Vachon said, at last. "We were talking ... about you, as a matter of fact-" He stopped when she glared at him, then stammered, "Um, anyway we were talking, and he looked so beautiful, I just couldn't stand it, so I ... um, I kissed him."
Vachon wiped his sweaty palms on the blanket, leaving faint red streaks behind, then ran his hands through his hair. Tracy asked him with icy politeness to finish his story.
"So, that's really all that happened, Trace. We just kissed ... mostly."
"Why him, Vachon? My partner. I can't believe you." She didn't seem so angry anymore, just terribly sad. Vachon took her in his arms, and held her very gently. She pulled away, and searched his eyes. "You told me that you thought Nick was the biggest jerk in the world."
"Yeah. I did." he sighed, "But, after I got to know him better, I found out what a nice guy he is. And, um ... we became friends." Vachon smiled a little. "I still think he's kind of a jerk, sometimes, but he's really sweet."
"Sweet?" Tracy couldn't help laughing, "Nick? No way."
"That's just 'cause you're only around him when he's being a cop. He comes off like this tough guy, and everything, but he's not really like that. He's got this ... vulnerability, that's really touching."
As Tracy's anger left her, she relaxed against him, running her hand slowly over his chest. She remembered how distressed Nick had been when she'd asked about his boyfriend, and how his near-confession had wrung her heart. He *had* seemed vulnerable, kind of lost and desperate, and she had wanted to comfort him.
Suddenly, she thought of Nick giving Vachon an agonizingly slow, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue touching Vachon's beautiful lips. Her breath caught in her throat, as little pinpricks of arousal nipped at her. Vachon heard her heartbeat quicken and smiled to himself. As he stroked the back of her head, then her neck and shoulders, he thought he could guess what had fired her up.
Feeling deliciously naughty, and a little surprised at herself, Tracy let her thoughts run on to other things her partner and her boyfriend might do with one another. In her vision, Nick took Vachon into his sumptuous mouth and-
She rolled onto her back, inviting Vachon to kiss her. The gentleness of his touch combined with the forbidden congress of her fantasy, brought her desire into sharp focus. She drew Vachon's leg between hers, squeezing her thighs tight around him. Her jeans felt too snug, she couldn't get enough friction through them. Without pulling away from the kiss, she quickly unbuttoned her jeans, and struggled out of them. Resuming her position, she moved delicately against Vachon's thigh, with only her damp cotton panties between them. Her mind scrolled with the most erotic thoughts she'd ever dared to indulge. Vachon slid his hand under her tee shirt and slipped the edge of her stretchy lace bra down, then teasing with nearly imperceptible strokes, he massaged her soft breast.
Tracy's quick, short thrusts had eased into a deliberate circling against Vachon's thigh, as she worked herself into a good slow burn. Moving to her hands and knees, she lowered herself onto him; she could feel him through the blanket, through her panties. When she opened her eyes, and bent to kiss him again, she could see the tips of his fangs, protruding over his full, lower lip. His eyes, nearly hidden by his thick lashes, gleamed faintly.
Tracy was nice and melted now, her breath came in little gasps. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers, but when she tried to pull her tee shirt over her head, he grasped her wrists, and shook his head.
"Sorry, my love, that's a no-no."
"But, Vachon, I-"
He rolled her onto her back, and kissed her gently again. He slipped his tongue between her lips and teeth into her warm, wet mouth. He brushed his cool lips against her throat, then lingered kisses on her breasts and belly as he slid down, until her thighs framed his face. Tracy rolled her hips against him, and dug her fingers into his hair, pushing his face against her.
Finally, he kissed her through her sopping panties. As he took them down, fragile, opalescent strands clung to the wet material, suspended for a moment before draping onto her thighs. He nuzzled her downy, dark blonde bush; she was heat-slicked and soft.. Gently, he pressed his mouth against her, and with practiced kisses delved each velvety fold and recess.
At first, the little stud in Vachon's tongue bothered her, but his skill and her need soon obliterated all but the place in her mind where thought and sensation merged. She guided him, holding the back of his head and arching into his mouth, gasping encouragements.
Vachon was careful not to let himself become too aroused, lest her throat and the hot blood pulsing just beneath her blue-veined skin become the greater temptation. He concentrated all his attention on pleasuring Tracy, until she was driving herself against his mouth and imploring him, "Please, Vachon ... I can't stand it ...please."
She whimpered and pulled his hair until he gently sunk his fingers into her and with a quick, sweet flick of his tongue, released her.
Dry mouthed and breathless, Tracy sank into the pillows, and Vachon moved up into her trembling embrace. Her musk was on his lips, saturating his slight beard. She kissed his mouth and face, relishing the salty, estrous fluid. Vachon sighed with contentment.
"Oh, Tracy, querida. I love you." he whispered, "My wild woman."
"Vachon." she murmured. "Baby bear."
Tracy struggled with disappointment; she had wanted to take their love making to its natural conclusion, but she was also well aware how dangerous it could be. Having a vampire for a boyfriend definitely had its drawbacks. She rose up to look at him; his beautiful face showed no sign of the killer inside him; submerged, but not subdued. He grinned happily, a wide, open-mouthed smile of delight. The little stud in his tongue glinted in the dim light.
Tracy remembered she'd been meaning to talk with him about it. "I don't think I like that stud thing." she said, "It was kind of distracting."
"'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove'" he said, surprised at himself. Where the hell had that come from? he thought.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tracy asked, just as surprised as he was.
"I'm not sure," he grinned, "it just came to mind. I guess it means, if you don't like it, I'll get rid of it." He unscrewed the top stud, and took the little barbell out of his tongue, then tossed it onto the nightstand. Then he lay back down, curled against her, willing his taut muscles to ease.
Tracy sat up so fast, she nearly fell off the bed.
Vachon ... and Nick. He had none of this pent-up energy in him when she came in. None. He had still been in the liquid aftermath of release. He'd let Nick ... but he wouldn't have, he *couldn't* have unless- "He's a vampire."
"What? Who ... who's a vam-" Vachon stammered.
"Don't give me any of that, just tell me. Nick is a vampire, isn't he?"
"Um ... he, um-"
"If he's not, then how come I've never seen him during the day?"
"Aww, that doesn't mean anything. Lots of people work at night. He's got a ... a sun allergy ... or something."
"Just like you. Come on, Vachon. That's pretty lame." She narrowed her eyes, daring him to say anything. "He keeps to himself, no one knows anything about him, or where he came from."
"He's from Chicago, I think."
Tracy kept on, as if she hadn't heard. "I've never seen him eat. Never." She remembered Nick's reaction to the souvlaki. "Does garlic make your nose bleed?"
"Look, Tracy-"
She silenced him, with an impatient gesture. She was thinking about Nick's sudden nosebleed, and earlier that same shift, the cut on his lip that had seemed to heal in a matter of seconds. Tracy recalled with growing alarm, other incidents of her partner's eccentric behavior, which, taken separately were merely odd, but together formed a sinister equation.
She whirled on Vachon, furious with his evasion, "And he keeps blood in his 'fridge! Don't you think that's kind of weird? Everything he does-"
"So, he's weird. That doesn't mean he's-"
Tracy looked daggers at him, "Did you have an orgasm?"
"Um, you mean just now?"
Tracy shook her head very slowly and deliberately, and waited for him to confess. Her eyes filled with tears when he looked away from her, and his silence answered her question. "You won't even let me touch you, Vachon." she whispered, wiping her eyes, "I'll bet you don't tell him anything's a no-no."
"Well ... um, not exactly. But, that doesn't necessarily mean ... anything."
Tracy sat on the edge of the bed, with her arms crossed underneath her breasts, and her jaw clenched; her tear-filled eyes burned into him.
"Aww, hell." Vachon groaned and buried his face in his hands.
He heard her say crisply, "I guess you guys have been having a good laugh behind my back."
* * * * * * * *
Nick waited nervously for Tracy to stop by. He paced around the loft; he rehearsed what he was going to tell her; he fiddled with the piano; he couldn't settle down into doing any one thing. The suspense was too much; finally he decided to call Vachon, to find out if he'd told Tracy anything yet. As he listened to the phone ring and ring, he nearly hung up; Vachon probably wouldn't answer if she was still there.
After the sixth ring, Vachon answered. "Sorry, I couldn't find the phone."
"Hey, Vach?" Nick cleared his throat and asked, "Is Tracy still there?"
"No, she just left. As a matter of fact, she's on her way to see you. And she knows." Vachon said, in a doom-laden voice. "She knows everything."
"You told her?" Nick asked angrily, "Vach, I thought we agreed I was supposed to-"
"No, I didn't tell her, Nick. She figured it out. All by herself."
"Sorry. So, um ... how'd she take it?"
"How do you think she took it?" Vachon snapped, then he sighed, and apologized by joking, "I've never heard a girl cuss like that."
"What else did she say?"
"For awhile there, I thought she was going to never speak to me again, but I think she's okay. About me and you, I mean. But, she went ballistic when she put two and two together about you."
"She's going to kill me." Nick groaned.
"Yeah, well. Just hang in there, and let her holler at you."
"She's really angry."
"Yeah, no kidding." Vachon was sympathetic, but couldn't resist teasing, "I've never seen her so mad, Nick. She's probably gonna shove a crucifix-"
"Vachon, you're not helping"
The Unhelpful One chortled diabolically into the phone, then hung up.
"What a brat." Nick muttered. He needed a drink.
He reached into the refrigerator to get out a bottle of blood wine, but changed his mind and reached for a small carafe of unadulterated human blood instead; a present from LaCroix. He added a large measure of brandy, and drank it off, quickly. Now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, he felt a serenity and clearness of thought sweep away the unease that had been gnawing at him ever since he and Vachon had become intimate. He fixed another drink, then went to the corner of his loft, to the canvas he had been working on; the portrait of Vachon ala Saint Sebastian.
After a few minutes, Nick had entirely forgotten Tracy, Vachon, and everything else. He was thoroughly engrossed in painting, with a focus he'd been unable to attain in a very long time. He'd had quite a bit to drink, and that, perhaps as well as Vachon's blood still tingling in his veins, was making him feel unreserved, and without realizing it, he had let his mortal guise fall away.
Nick heard the elevator door slide open, and he looked up, startled by the sound. He wiped off his hands, and put down the brush, steeling himself to face Tracy's anger. Hell hath no fury like a woman ... period, he thought miserably.
Tracy strode purposefully toward him, fists on her hips, her blue eyes narrowed to white-hot slits. When she was close enough to actually see him, she froze, shocked by her partner's transformation. "Oh, my God." she whispered, "It's true."
She still couldn't believe it, yet he stood before her, a vampire; resplendently frightening and compelling. And so beautiful. Tracy had to stop and catch her breath, in part, because she realized her anger was nothing, compared to what he could unleash on her, should he become provoked.
Nick closed his eyes, and with an effort, willed the vampire back into hiding. Unable to face her yet, he went over to the refrigerator. "You want a drink?"
She shook her head, slowly.
"Mind if I have one?" he asked, reaching for the blood wine, not really caring if she minded or not. He didn't know what to say. Tracy saved him the trouble.
"Vachon told me Nat knows all about it. You, him, the Community, everything!"
Nick stole a glance at her, "He shouldn't have done that."
"How come you couldn't tell *me, your *partner*, but you could tell Nat?"
"Tracy, I didn't tell Nat anything." Nick said miserably, then briefly told her about the explosion, and how he woke up on the autopsy table. What he didn't tell her, was that he hadn't altered Natalie's memory, to make her forget about his resurection in the city morgue.
Lost in the recolection of that night, Nick wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time, why he hadn't just hypnotized Doctor Lambert, and dissapeared. Because there had been something about the way the medical examiner looked at him; not as a monster, but as a man in pain, someone in need of help.
Tracy's voice brought him out of his musings. "Why couldn't you tell me, Nick? Don't you trust me?"
"Of course I do, Tracy. I trust you with my life." he said quietly. "But, I was afraid if you knew ... the Enforcers would come after you."
"Why would anyone come after me?"
"You're a Resister, Trace." he said unhappily, "And, Resisters are to be killed, or brought across. No exceptions."
"So .. who, or what exactly are these enforcers? Some kind of vampire vigilante group?" Her anger had subsided a bit, she no longer shook with fury, but she was still deeply hurt that he'd been deceiving her.
Nick led her over to the sofa, and set his glass down on the coffee table. In a low voice, he began, "Nobody believes in ... supernatural beings anymore, so we can no longer rely on fear and superstition to protect us. Instead, we conceal ourselves, and stay apart from you." He glanced at her, and took a deep breath. "Mortals are allowed very little contact with our kind. If any one of you learns too much about us, or obtains any evidence of our existence, the Enforcers ensure we remain secret. It's the only way we can be safe."
"You're afraid of us?" Tracy said, skepticly.
"Mortals are more dangerous to us than you could ever imagine."
"I wouldn't say anything, Nick. Just ask Vachon." she said tightly.
"I know, Trace. I know you wouldn't." he said, and covered her hands with his. "I just wanted to keep you safe."
Tracy noticed, as if for the first time, how cold his hands were, and nearly drew away. She forced herself to look into his eyes, telling herself he was her partner, her friend. Telling herself that Nick was still the same person he'd always been, that knowing his secret didn't change him, but she was worried it might change her. Tracy wasn't sure what to think, her own emotions were still a jumble, and she would need more time to sort them out; it was difficult to get her mind around the fact that Nick was a vampire.
Tracy took his hand, and tried to smile. "Boy, you think you know someone-" she broke off when she noticed the unfinished portrait in the corner. She walked over to the painting, and studied it intently. "Wow. This is amazing. Very erotic." she said softly, and turned to him, her eyes full of admiration. Nick shyly acknowledged the compliment.
"I thought you only did abstracts." Tracy said, and turned back to the portrait. The details of the face were still rough, but she recognized her lover as the model. "Is this supposed to be Vachon?"
There was an uncomfortable scilence, then Nick reluctantly admitted that Vachon had posed for the portrait. "I guess you know about that, too." he sighed.
"About what, Nick?" Tracy asked, as she came back to the sofa, "That you've been messing around with my boyfriend behind my back?" Her voice was serious, but her eyes held the hint of a smile.
Nick bit his lip, and looked down at his hands. "I won't see him anymore, if-"
"I can't ask you to do that. I mean, he's your boyfriend, too."
"Yeah, I guess so." he mumbled.
"You guess so?" her smile was genuine, "Come on, Nick. He's your lover."
Nick still wouldn't look at her, he fiddled with his wineglass, twirling it by the stem back and forth between his thumb and fingers. Tracy wanted to let him know it was his duplicity, more than anything, that she was upset about.
"I know you care about each other, and I don't have a problem ... um, sharing Vachon with you, not really. But you should have told me."
"Tracy, I ... I'm really sorry. I just ... I was afraid to tell you."
"Oh, please." Tracy rolled her eyes, "What did you think I was going to do, shoot you?"
"I thought, I mean, I assumed you'd be uncomfortable around me, if you knew." Nick ran his hands through his hair, then said so quietly his voice was almost a whisper, "I thought you wouldn't like me anymore."
"You're not giving me very much credit." Tracy frowned, she'd been raised to be a fairly liberal, open-minded person.
"Yeah, well. A lot of people aren't as understanding as you are."
She nodded, a lot of people not only didn't understand, they were afraid of, even hateful toward those they labeled as different. A boy she knew had been nearly beaten to death, but Tracy refrained from mentioning that. She didn't think Nick wanted a reminder of how malicious people could be; she was sure he'd experienced first-hand the devastating effects of bigotry. Still, she wanted to say something supportive, she could feel him withdrawing from her. "You know, I've been in this situation before."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, when I was in college, I knew this guy ..." she began, then said, "Um, Nick? I think I'd like that drink after all."
Nick went to the refrigerator, "White wine okay? Or would you like something stronger?"
"White wine would be lovely." she said. He returned with her drink, and after a big gulp of wine, she resumed her story. "Anyway, this guy I was dating ... he told me, before we started getting, you know, intimate, that he had a boyfriend."
"And that was okay with you?" Nick asked doubtfully.
Tracy looked up, and smiled reassuringly at him, "His boyfriend was a nice guy. I really liked him. In fact, we stayed friends, after I broke up with the other guy." She took another sip of her wine, then laughed and said, "I just don't see how you and Vachon got together. The two of you don't have a thing in common." she realized what she'd just said, and stammered, "I mean, besides being ..."
Nick was smiling at her, but it was a gentle, encouraging smile, so she continued.
"What I mean is, you're so ... conservative, and he's so wild. You're cultured and well-educated, and he's ... he's a slacker."
Tracy started laughing, and the tension inside her dissolved. She couldn't stop giggling, she sputtered and snorted, and burst into loud, unladylike guffaws. Her laughter was contagious, and Nick couldn't help laughing along with her. The two of them howled until they were both out of breath, and wiping their eyes. "Oh, my." Tracy sighed, and drained her glass.
"It wasn't that funny." Nick grinned, shaking his head.
"I guess we just needed the laugh."
"Want a refill?"
"Sure. Thanks." she handed him her glass, "Let's celebrate."
Nick brought the drinks over, "What are we celebrating?"
"I've known you for, what ... over a year now? And tonight, you're actually opening up to me."
"I'm glad you know, Trace." Nick told her, "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Partners shouldn't keep secrets from each other."
Tracy raised her glass in a salute, "Partner."
Nick smiled, and touched his glass to hers, "Partner."
Tracy looked into her glass, while she said, "I can't help being a little jealous, though." She gave Nick a half-hearted smile. "You can really make love with him. I can't. We tried, once." Shuddering at the memory, she whispered, "He changed ... his eyes got all-" Tracy looked searchingly at Nick, her partner. A vampire. "It was horrible." she ended feebly.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No. I screamed, I think, and he stopped. He said we could never ..." Tracy sighed, and finished the last of the wine. "It's very frustrating. How do you and Nat manage it?"
"We're just friends." Nick said, quickly.
"Yeah? Well, you'd better tell that to her."
Nick didn't answer, but went to the refrigerator, and came back with two more bottles of wine. Tracy frowned a little, "That's a lot of wine. Don't we have to work tomorrow?"
"I can't drink this." Nick said, opening the Chablis for her, "And you definiately can't drink this." He poured out what appeared to be red wine into his glass. "Cheers."
"Up yours." Tracy grinned, then explained, "That's what they say in Australia."
"Someone's been watching the Discovery channel." Nick said mildly.
After a moment, Tracy brought the discussion back to Natalie, "You have to stop leading her on, you know."
"I'm not leading-" Nick began, but when Tracy's eyebrows shot up, he conceded her point.
"I didn't mean to give her the impression that I was, um ... interested in having anything more than just a friendship with her."
Even as he said it, Nick had to admit it was a lie. He'd used Natalie's infatuation with him to suit his own purposes. Although he the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, he had just stood back, and let it happen. Natalie was in love with him, and he was at something of a loss as to how to remedy the situation.
"Maybe you should tell her you don't like girls." Tracy suggested. "That ought to do it."
"But I do like girls." Nick said, "I like them a lot."
"And you couldn't possibly tell a lie." Tracy said with a hint of sarcasm. She thought for a bit, then said, "Well, tell her you like boys, then. Does she know? About you and Vachon, I mean."
"Yeah. And she's not too happy about it."
"So, what are you going to do?"
Nick shook his head, and stared into his glass. "I have no idea."
to be continued ...
in Reconciliations