All right, here is my Valentine’s Day offering. I am pathetically
single and thoroughly depressed: my little brother just left with two
dozen red roses to visit his girlfriend of the past two years (and
he’s only 18!) Anyway all this ooey gooey mushy romance stuff is
really annoying with no boyfriend so I’m going to live vicariously
through fanfic (not for the first time) and write an anti-Valentine
story. 

I don’t own FK; I’m only borrowing Tracy and pals for a little non-
profit fun. When I’m done with them I’ll throw them in the dryer to
get the wrinkles out and return them to their proper handlers. 

Third season’s cast, no spoilers. Enjoy!

Anti-Valentines (1/2)

By: Mary Jenkins

Feb. 1998

Nat gnashed here teeth as her assistant began humming the theme from
Love Story yet again. It wasn’t Grace’s fault she was in such a bad
mood; it was Valentine’s day. And well, February 14th always depressed
the hell out of her. Not to mention that she had been put on the
afternoon shift today and was exhausted. Imagine, her, Natalie
Lambert, getting up before noon! It was just wrong!

"So, do you have plans with a certain blonde homicide detective? Hmm?"
Her happily married co-worker pestered.

"Actually, yes I do." At Grace’s triumphant smirk, Nat added quickly.
"But not the one you’re thinking of, I’m attending Tracy Vetter’s
‘Anti-Valentines’ party." Then added under her breath. "Whatever the
hell that is."

"Tracy? Not Nick?" Grace sounded crushed. She was a romantic at heart,
and the fact that Nat had yet to ‘get her man’ made her matchmaking
heart ache.

"Yep. We will, however, be in his loft. Tracy somehow talked Nick into
letting her throw her shin-dig there." Nat told her, "But to tell you
the truth, I really wish I hadn’t agreed to go."

"Yeah, well I can see why." Grace nodded. "Det. Vetter can be…a bit
upbeat. I can’t imagine what she has planned."

Suddenly, Tracy Vetter entered the morgue with uncharacteristic
flourish. "Greetings my fellow love-lorned."

The two women looked at the blonde. She seemed much more confident
than usual and there was a sparkle in her eye that hinted at mischief.


"Hi Grace. Nat, your still coming tonight aren’t you?" Tracy inquired.

"Well, to tell you the truth…-" Nat began.

"Tut, tut, tut, You are –not- getting out of this Nat. It’ll be fun.
Trust me." Tracy grinned wickedly.

"What –are- you wearing?" Grace’s eyes suddenly went wide as she took
in the detective’s T-shirt.

"Oh, you like this?" Tracy threw out her arms to better show off her
handy-work. It was black shirt with a chalk outline of what could only
be Cupid, complete with bloodstain and a discarded quiver of arrows.
"It’s left over from last year’s party."

"Last year’s?" Nat’s eyebrow rose. "You’ve done this before?"

"Yeah, since college." Tracy’s eyes began to glitter, "This year is
going to be the best, I spent all day decorating Nick’s loft.

"Where was he?" Nat asked.

"I have no idea, but he agreed to let me commandeer the place. Ah,
this is gonna be so great!" Tracy grinned, "Seven O’clock Nat."

"Yeah, sure." Nat watched as the perky blonde departed. 

"God, I pity you. One moment of weakness and you agreed to spend
Valentine’s with her." Grace, who was happily spending the evening
with her hubby, frowned with sympathy at her friend. "You’ll probably
play pin-the-tail on the donkey and watch the ‘Sound of Music.’

"And eat pink frosted cup cakes." Nat added glumly. What had she
gotten herself into?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A little after seven, Nat reluctantly arrived at Nick’s loft. His
caddy wasn’t there, Tracy had said he and indeed no men at all, would
be there, but she’d still hoped…’Oh well, might as well get this over
with.’ She thought as she pulled the elevator door open. 

The sight that greeted Nat caused her jaw to drop. When Tracy had said
she’d decorated, she’d thought: pink heart-shaped balloons, red and
white crape paper, construction paper heart cut-outs, basically a
junior-high dance gone horribly awry. But what stood before her was
anything but!

There were balloons, but they were all black. They each proclaimed
‘Romance is dead!’ Tracy had taped more Cupid out-lines all over the
floor. Also, the resourceful detective had obtained numerous body
bags, stuffed them with who-knows-what, and left paper-mache wings
sticking out. 

The stair case leading to Nick’s bedroom had been transformed into
what looked like Juliet’s balcony, but what stood at the top was a
female mannequin dressed as an army commando, complete with plastic
Uzi and grenades. Her ‘Romeo’ was on the ground floor, a cardboard cut
out of James Bond, who’d been bent at the knees, apparently begging
for mercy from the damsel above. 

A heavy metal rendition of "I am Woman" played over Nick’s $20,000
entertainment system, while a Chippendale’s tape played muted on the
TV. The top of Nick’s piano was covered with dozens of heart shaped
boxes of chocolates; champagne and punch sat on his counter along with
more food. Last, but certainly not least, was the fact that all of the
seven other guests were dressed in togas.

"Nat! Glad you made it!" Tracy ran up to her. "Here’s your toga, you
can change up there."

"Huh?" The coroner turned confused eyes upon her host. "Toga? Tracy,
what?" She made a few non-word sounds and gestured around the loft.

Tracy let out a truly evil chuckle, "It goes with the whole ‘Cupid is
dead’ theme." Tracy grinned, "Later we’re going to beat him to pieces
in effigy." She gestured up to the rafters where previously unnoticed
large Cupid piñata hung from a noose.

Numbly Nat worked her way up the staircase, skirted around the
‘Juliet’ and changed into the toga. She’d had no idea Tracy had this
in her! She heard the women laughing below, telling all of their most
horrible Valentine Day stories and cracking really bad jokes. By the
time she’d managed to figure out how the darn costume went on she was
in a much better mood. When she examined herself in the mirror, she
burst out laughing, a toga! Geez! 

Descending the stairs, she could here a rather bawdy limerick being
chanted by the assembled revellers. She smiled and joined in.

"Hey Nat, You figured it out! Great!" Tracy grinned, then climbed up
to the top of Nick’s kitchen table. "Okay, we’re all her now so I can
officially start the party."

The partygoers whooped and whistled for a bit.

"First off, let me introduce myself. Tonight, I am not Tracy Vetter, I
am…" She paused dramatically, "Tracsanda, Mistress of Love. This is my
seventh annual Anti-Valentine Party, most of you have been to these
galas before, but tonight we have two new guests. Everyone say hello
to Nat and Urs."

Tracy made introductions all around. Nat managed to hide her surprise
at finding out Tracy had invited a vampire. She noticed Urs was
drinking pink champagne though there was none on the buffet, she
suppressed a shutter. Well, if Tracy thought it was safe, who was she
to argue? She shook the former dance hall girl’s hand and got down to
the serious business of enjoying the party.

*See Disclaimers part one.

Anti-Valentines (2/2)

By: Cousin Mary

Feb. 1998

High above the soiree, Vachon and Nick stared down. Lying on their
bellies, they peered down through the skylight at the women below.

"Tracsanda?" Nick whispered grinning from ear to ear. 

"Mistress of Love." Vachon grinned back, who had known?

The two men fell silent as the toga-wearing women began regaled each
other with hilarious stories of romantic high-jinx. Most of the
stories were at the expense of men, but eventually the topic became a
bit more risqué. 

Vachon’s jaw dropped when Tracy told how once in high school she had
made out with the Captain of the Hockey Team, in the penalty box,
during a game. As the women went around telling stories, they ate
chocolate and drank, each story got worse and worse. Even Urs
participated, telling a rather raunchy story of her own, though she
failed to mention the exact year. But it was Nat, who had had a bit
too much of the spiked punch, who won the undeclared contest, by
explaining how in Med-school she had had a little late-night ‘study
session’ with not one but two men from her study group, in one of the
coolers. Nick almost fainted.

"Jesus, Knight. I had no idea that they…" Vachon shook his head.

Nick was about to respond, but fell silent when he felt a presence
behind him. Turning he saw his master. "Lacroix." He hissed.

"Yes Nicholas," The former Roman General raised an eyebrow. He had
been planning on seeing what his son was up to on this night, he had
not, however, expected to find him on the roof next to the Spaniard.
"What have we here? Peeping-Toms?" He chuckled.

The two younger vampires sat up, embarrassed because that was
–exactly- what they were.

"Well, Lacroix. You see…" Vachon began to explain, but then just
gestured to the party below. 

Lacroix gave the sky-light a courtesy glance then turned back to the
vampires. He opened his mouth to make a pithy jibe but suddenly froze.
"Are those women wearing togas?" He whispered.

Soon all three men were on their stomachs watching the women dance the
to some incredibly offensive feminist rock music. They then proceeded
to watch another Chippendale’s video and heckle the poor under-dressed
men horribly. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After most of the champagne was gone, and all of the chocolate had
been devoured, Tracsanda announced it was time for the annual sketch.
The women who’d attended her Anti-Valentines before cheered at this,
while Nat and Urs looked confused. 

"Okay, here’s the script. I get to be the guy, as always." Tracy
smirked, "Who wants to be my lovely assistant?"

Somehow, Nat was given the role. Apparently her dirty story had made
her Queen for the Night. After being handed the papers she was given a
box and rushed up the steps to the ‘balcony.’ Tracy disappeared to the
bathroom.

Nat opened the box and found a ridiculous Rapunzel wig, but since she
was having such a good time, she donned it without hesitation. 

Tracy emerged from the bathroom, wearing an oversized flannel shirt
over her toga. She’d stuffed a pillow underneath to give herself a
beer belly, and had donned a stained baseball cap declaring that it’s
wearer ‘lived for hockey.’ "Everyone ready?" She called out.

In short order the play began. Nat opened her script and stiffly read.
"Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou Romeo?"

Tracy stood at the foot of the balcony and stared up at her, she
responded in a hilarious ‘dumb-guy’ voice. "Hey Juliet, down here,
yoo-hoo, look at me! Here, Yo!"

Nat began to get into her roll. "My Love!" She cried out dramatically,
eliciting cheers from the ‘audience.’ "Tis this not the most romantic
night?"

Tracy, in ‘dumb-guy’ persona, replied with confusion. "But the play-
off are already over, right?"

Nat put the back of her to her forehead, "Romeo, whilst thou not come
to me? Climb up here?"

Tracy scratched her ‘gut.’ "Why? Hey, up there do you perchance have
beer?"

Nat gave an artful sob. "Romeo, doeth your soul contain no romance?"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

As the play continue, the women hamming it up in the extreme and those
watching throwing out jokes and good nature jeers, the men watched,
unable to look away.

"I never realised how amusing Dr. Lambert and Det. Vetter could be."
Lacroix commented.

Nick and Vachon growled protectively.

"Oh do get over it." The ancient vampire hissed. "I’m not planning
crashing their little party."

The vampire all glared at one another for awhile, but eventually
returned their attention to the antics below.

When the play had run out of clichés to abuse, it ended with Juliet
declaring that she must wash her hair tonight and Romeo leaving to go
bowling. 

The women then proceeded to lower the piñata. They savagely beat Cupid
until he burst. Laughing wildly they scooped up the candy that spewed
forth and devoured it. The vampires watched in fascination as they
hauled Cupid’s ‘body’ to the fire-escape and lit it. 

When one of the women kicked the smouldering winged-baby off, the
women began singing ‘It’s Raining Men’ as it crashed with a
spectacular shower of sparks to the alley bellow. 

Eventually, near four in the morning, the party began to wind down.
Since most of the women had partaken too much from the spiked punch
bowl, it was decided that almost everyone would just sleep there.

The men stared down, enjoying how the toga-ed women lounged around
Nick’s loft. His bed, his couch and even floor, full of scantily clad
drunken women. They whispered quietly among themselves. 

Suddenly Urs landed behind them. "Enjoying yourselves?" She asked.
Though Urs had had a wonderful time, she had decided that spending the
day with these mortals probably wasn’t a good idea. She had said her
good-byes and slipped out. After reaching the street, she had taken to
the air. On flying up though, she had noticed the men on the roof.

"Uh, Urs." Vachon began, "We were just, uh."

Nick and Lacroix remained silent. Nick avoided looking at her, and
Lacroix stared at her, daring her to challenge him. Urs just shook her
head and took off. The voyeuristic vamps weren’t worth it, she was
exhausted, she’d deal with them later.

"We are never going to here the end of this." Vachon whispered,
knowing there was no way Urs would fail to tell Tracy. 

"If they bring it up, they’ll have to admit what –they- were up to."
Nick reminded him. 

"Oh yeah." Vachon grinned. "At least Tracy didn’t tell any story that
was –too- bad. I can’t believe Natalie, in a cooler?"

"What happened?" Lacroix asked, he’d arrived after the story telling.

Nick and Vachon just grinned at the elder vampire and flew off to find
shelter for the day. 

Lacroix took one more long look at the scene before, admiring the way
Dr. Lambert’s toga had ridden up to her waist as she tossed and turned
on Nicholas’s bed and the out-line of Det. Vetter’s slim form as she
curled up in an over-stuffed chair. With a smile he too left, fleeing
the lightening sky. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Well? Send all comments and candy-grams to anteros@juno.com