Missing Scene #3: How to Choose? By April French Toronto: August 1997 Janette sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. Gasping, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to find what had awoken her so violently. She strained with her poor mortal ears, listening. The baby. He was awake. She tore off her bed coverings. Throwing on her robe, Janette went into the bathroom that connected her room to the nursery. She turned on the light and was momentarily blinded by the brilliant whiteness bouncing off the tiles. Her heart was pounding painfully in her long- disused chest, deafening her. Gasping at the sensation, Janette grabbed hold of the sink and waited for the blindness and the vertigo to pass. She breathed deeply. Through the ringing in her ears, she could hear a wailing sound. Her son was crying. "" Janette crooned, picking the squalling bundle of humanity out of his crib. "" She did not consciously speak to him in mediaeval French, but that was the language that sprang to her lips whenever her child was in her arms. She sat down in the carved rocking chair, trying to soothe him. "" Apparently, he was, so Janette did what she could to appease her son's wants. A small sound at the door made her look up. Alain was standing there in the doorway that led to the living room, silky hair tousled and almond-shaped eyes watching the baby feed in utter awe. Janette shook her head with a small smile. "" she jabbed. Alain took his time in answering. "" he said, at last tearing his eyes from the boy. "" He knelt down beside her chair, laying his hand on the child's head. Alain's slender, long-fingered hand completely encased the small cranium. "" he decided. "" "" Janette let out a frustrated sigh. "" "Indeed," Alain said wryly. "You can't keep calling him 'it,' 'the baby,' 'the child'--" "The little appetizer?" "Point for you. Have you thought of naming him for his father?" "I had thought of it," said Janette softly. "And I would like for his middle name to be Robert. He needs a name of his own. But I can't decide!" "Hmm," Alain grunted. The boy had detached himself from his mother's breast and was now sucking vigorously on Alain's fingertip. "Maybe we should get some other opinions." *** LaCroix stared in mute horror at the stack of books that Nick had unceremoniously dumped on the coffee table. "Honestly, Nicholas, are of these really necessary?" "What's the matter, LaCroix?" Natalie asked. "Didn't they have baby name books in ancient Rome?" LaCroix glared at her, lips twisting into a sneer. Nick gulped. Then the General's expression lightened somewhat. "Actually, we did. But that's not how we named our children. When a child was born, if it lived for ten days, it was taken to the local oracle, or soothsayed and prophesied and finally slapped what you would consider a long, convoluted Latin name onto the unfortunate infant." Natalie eyed him suspiciously. Miranda, standing beside Janette and admiring the baby, sent a tiny poke into the bond with her husband. she pointed out with a clear mental laugh. At the sound, LaCroix smiled brightly, then squelched the expression before anyone could see it. he conceded agreeably. Kai, flipping through one of the books, glanced up briefly and smiled. "Janette, do you have anything in mind that could narrow this down a bit?" he asked, dubiously reading down the columns of names. "Something French," she said, sitting down on the couch next to LaCroix. "Or Latin. Or whatever strikes my fancy." The infant's eyes were open now, and he stared solemnly at LaCroix with his fist in his mouth. LaCroix stared back, frowning. There was a curious age in the newborn's blue eyes, so like Janette's. "Might as well start from the beginning." Kai began skimming down the names. Suddenly he stopped, his thin lips quirking. Nick looked up. "What's so funny?" "Oh, nothing." Kai closely the book hurriedly. "Just found my middle name, is all. It's unusual to see in books." "What is it, Dad?" asked Miranda curiously from LaCroix's other side. "I didn't even know you had a middle name." Kai shrugged sheepishly. "I'm, er, not fond of it." He snorted. "You know how when parents use all three names to call their kids, it means something very, very serious?" "Oh, yeah," Natalie nodded, grimacing. "The call of death." "Natalie, you don't know the half of it." Nick traded glances with Miranda and grinned. "Come on, Kai, spill." Kai ducked his head and mumbled a name. "...Tudor?" Miranda repeated incredulously. Alain sat down with a mug. "You got some royal British blood we don't know about?" "It was my mother's maiden name. Claire Tudor Quartermayne. And it's not British; it's Welsh." "Welsh," Nick repeated softly. "What does it mean?" Kai flushed a very pretty shade of shell pink under his customary grey. "'Divine gift,'" he muttered. Alain snorted; Janette smacked him in the shoulder. "All right," said Miranda, folding her legs under her, "I'm intrigued." She grabbed a name book. "Let's go round the circle. "Nicholas: Greek. 'Victorious people.' "Natalie: Slavic or Latin. 'To be born at Christmas time.' "Alain: French. 'Handsome.'" Miranda looked the French musician up and down. "Well, not every name's appropriate." Alain plastered a hurt look on to his narrow face. "Ouch!" "Right in the ego, too," snickered Nick. "Janette... Janette... nope, not in this one." Natalie picked up another book and flipped through it. "Janette... okay, here it is. French. 'God is gracious.'" All four men raised their mugs. "I'll drink to that," said Alain sincerely. LaCroix and Nick traded glances; Nick's was a little apprehensive and LaCroix's was one of utter disbelief, but both were approving. "Don't bother looking up LaCroix's name," Nick instructed. "We all know what 'Lucien LaCroix' means." Natalie shuddered slightly at the General's sick sense of humor. "What about the boys?" Miranda interjected. "The Prince and The Pauper." Natalie flipped to the front of the book. "I can't find Alexei..." "Alexander will do," LaCroix said. "Alexander: Greek. 'Protector of mankind.' Daniel: Hebrew. 'God is my judge.'" "I can tell you what 'Miranda' means," Kai said, smiling fondly at his daughter. "Shakespeare invented the name when he wrote 'The Tempest.' It's derived from 'Amanda.' It means 'beloved.'" There was a haunted, forlorn quality to his voice, and it was shaking. Miranda reached out to her adoptive father, but he shook his head. "Natalie," Janette asked, "what does 'Robert' mean?" "Robert: English. 'Bright flame.'" Natalie remembered vividly that Robert McDonough had been a fireman. Janette cradled her son more closely then, and LaCroix gave Natalie at look that said clearly: Move on. Now. "Um... how about we get back to the baby's name?" *** They crawled slowly through the stack of baby name books. Janette was determined to have her son named by sunrise, so Miranda and Natalie had food delivered in--"I'm twenty years old. I haven't grown out of pizza yet!"--and the others ordered bottles from the Raven so as not to deplete Janette's personal stock. And they all threw out names, regardless of nationality. "Ryan." "Thomas." "Riley." "Aaron." "Aiden." "Simon." "Edward." "Brandon." "These are boring! I went to school with these names." "Cory." "Dale." "Andrew." "Craig." "Still boring." "All right, just whose baby is this?!" "Dylan." "Zachary." "Galen." "Galen?" "It's not boring." "God, at least he didn't suggest Aristophanes or something." "We have a Daniel, two Nicholases, an Alexander, an Allen, a Lucian, a Julian--" "Hey, Nat, can I have a slice of pepperoni?" "--Robert is his middle name, we need to find something to go with Robert." "Christopher?" "No," Miranda said quickly, shooting a look at her husband. "Christopher Robert? Too much like Winnie the Pooh. Michael, maybe?" "No," Janette said firmly. "That was my husband's name." The husband who sold me for a prostitute. Unspoken, it hung in the room like a foul cloud. Awkwardly, the Family began throwing out more names. "Claude." "Henry." "Tyson." "Nick, it's a baby, not a chicken!" "He's being incredibly good, isn't he?" "One might almost say, deceptively good. Perhaps he's planning something." "He's a week old. There are three things he could be feeling: to be hungry, to be sleepy, or to be wet. Hence, the only thing he could possibly be planning is to cry." "Cameron." "Jacob." "Caesar." "If this was a script for a TV show, how hard would it be to tell which names Lucien was suggesting? Eamon." "Matthew." "Ian." "Guy." "Blake." "Draco." "This is Toronto, Lucien, not Hogwarts!" "If this were a script for a television show, how hard would it be to find Miranda's comments?" "Damian." "Bad luck for a vampire's child. Nathan?" "Too much like Natalie. No offense, Doctor." "None taken. William." "Gregory." "I think I like the names beginning with 'J.'" "Jonathan." "No. And not John, either." "Jeffrey." "Jacques." "Jordan." "Junius." "LaCroix..." "What?" "Gerard." "I said 'J.'" "Well, it sounds like 'J!'" "Jeremiah." "Jasper." "Joseph." "Jared." "Julius." "LaCroix!" "Jesse." "Jesse. Jesse?" Janette moved next to Kai. "What does it mean?" "Depends on which book you ask. Personally, I like this definition." Kai showed her the page. "'Gift.'" "If your son is nothing else, Janette, he is a gift." "Jesse," she repeated. The boy, who had been listening attentively throughout the whole proceeding, yawned and went to sleep. Natalie grinned. "I think we have a winner." *** Kai lingered for a few minutes as the others filed out. Janette kissed his cheek fondly. "I owe you," she said ruefully, and then laughed. "Jesse. So simple. But I never would have thought of it. How did you ever name Miranda?" "Oh, it just kind of hit me. Literally. The night she was born, I was almost killed by the Riverside Shakespeare to the head. Don't ask, please. It fell to the floor and opened to the page where Miranda proclaims, 'Oh brave new world that has such people in it!'" Kai shrugged. "It seemed appropriate. By the way, Janette, I have something for you." He dug around in his jacket. "Here," said Kai at last, taking a leather thong from his pocket. "I made this for your son." He slipped the necklace over Jesse's tiny head and touched the clay bauble hanging from it. "This is for his protection. A mortal child born of a vampire woman's body is an unheard-of thing. "Don't ever take it off." And then he was gone, without a stir or a breath of air. Alone in the apartment, Janette pressed her lips to Jesse's dark head. ~Finis--January 27th, 2003~