Title: Butterfly
Rating: PG
Category: Funny, Romantic
Characters: Tracy and ?????
Summary: Tracy has a secret admirer on Valentine's Day.
Legal: Forever Knight characters aren't mine, but I'd rather get them
than roses on Valentines's day.
This entire text is archived at http://home.earthlink.net/~kusine/
(<--shameless plug :-). This may also be archived at
http://www.fkfanfic.com and the ftp site.
All comments and chocolates may be sent to kusine@yahoo.com. All
flames will be used to roast marshmallows.
You must see "End Part 01/02" or something's missing.
*****
Butterfly (01/02)
*****
The toad beneath the harrow knows
Exactly where each tooth-point goes;
The butterfly upon the road
Preaches contentment to that toad.
--Rudyard Kipling
*****
Tracy hated Valentine's Day.
Everyone always got all mushy and doe-eyed. It made her just sick.
Of course, she had to admit, she might be a little biased. She'd
never -- *never* -- had a date for Valentine's Day. Even when she'd
been dating someone, they always found a reason to break up right
around the holiday. Half the time they'd want to get back together
afterwards, but Tracy had always refused, no matter how much she
wanted to. After all, why the heck would she want to date a scumbag
that would break up with her just so he didn't have to buy her a
present?!
Mentally growling, Tracy pulled open the front door to the station
and trudged inside. Tonight she'd get to see flowers on everyone's
desks, candy would get passed around, and red would be everywhere.
Tracy had carefully dressed all in black. She had also changed her
answering machine message to:
Roses are red,
Dead ducks float.
Be my Valentine
Or I'll slit your throat.
A bit aggressive, perhaps, but it fit her mood.
She stalked over to her desk and yanked out her chair. She moved to
sit down, but stopped suddenly when she noticed a small, flat,
silver-wrapped box on the seat. She dropped her purse on the desk,
picked up the present, and sat down.
Who was this from? There was no card, and no note. She looked
carefully around the room, but there was no one stifling laughter,
waiting for a prank to go off.
"Hey, Trace!" Nick said cheerfully, sitting on his desk. "Have an
admirer?"
"Did you do this?" she asked suspiciously. "Is it going to explode
when I open it?"
"What?" Her partner looked genuinely confused. "I just got here."
He paused. "Well, aren't you going to open it?"
"Oh, I suppose," she said.
She carefully peeled the small gold bow off the top and unwrapped the
silver metallic paper. She held it out in front of her and turned
her head away as she pulled the top off of the small box.
Nothing happened.
She looked and saw Nick staring, stunned, into the box.
"What?" she asked in concern. "Is it a finger or a toe or
something?"
Nick just shook his head. Tracy pulled the box toward her and looked
inside.
It was an emerald necklace.
It was obviously an antique. The three large emeralds were set in a
filigree silver setting, with a fine silver chain completing the
necklace. Peeking out of a corner of the black velvet the necklace
was nestled in was a small white card. Tracy pulled it out and read
it:
It is impossible to love and to be wise.
A secret admirer
"Who..." Tracy cleared her throat and tried again. "Who could have
sent this to me? I ... I don't know who could have done this..."
"Well, whoever it is, they seem to be in love," Nick pointed out,
reading the note upside-down. "Maybe they'll be in touch later.
Maybe they're shy. Maybe they're afraid of rejection."
"Maybe they're a stalker." Tracy looked around the station. "Someone
had to have seen who put this here."
Tracy pocketed the box and its bejeweled contents, then set off to
interrogate every single person in the station until she got some
answers.
***********
Tracy sat down, exhausted. She had spoken to just about everyone in
the station who could have possibly seen who had put the gift on her
chair. No one had seen anything.
She was not amused. Tracy did not approve of surprises. Especially
ones that involved Valentine's Day. She still had five hours left on
her shift and she was no closer to an answer. She was stuck doing
paperwork all night since she and Nick weren't allowed any new cases
since they'd been involved in a shooting the night before. They were
stuck at the station while the Shooting Review Board decided that
they had acted in self-defense.
Sometime during her two-hour quest, it appeared that Nick had gone to
visit Natalie in the morgue. A note propped up in front of her
computer read:
Tracy--
Checking out the Hudson case with Nat.
I left a pile of paperwork for you.
Find your loverboy (or girl?!) yet?
Be back after the dinner break.
Your Not-So-Secret Admirer
Tracy balled up the note and lobbed it at the trashcan. She pulled a
large pile of paper toward her, then began filling it out.
After another hour, her name was called loudly by the Desk Sargent.
She pulled her bleary eyes from the paper in front of her and looked
up. The sergeant was grinning at her and holding out a long white
flower box.
Tracy rolled her eyes and got them to the catcalls of all onlookers.
She dropped the box on her desk and pulled off the top
unceremoniously. It was, as expected, a dozen red roses. Tracy thought, She pawed through the flowers until she found a card.
The supreme happiness of life is the conviction
that one is loved; loved for oneself, or better
yet, loved despite oneself.
Anton's 2:00 AM
A secret admirer
Tracy sighed. She now had a date with someone she didn't know. She
checked her watch; it was 1:30. She still had plenty of time to get
there since Anton's was just down the street.
But should she? Or was she was she just walking into a stalker's
trap? Or did she honestly have a secret admirer who was just shy?
She had thought at first that it might be Vachon, but this really
wasn't his style. Besides, they hadn't seen each other in nearly a
month. So who could it be? Who would go to such lengths for *her*?
******
Tracy stood outside the restaurant, hesitating about going in. For
one thing, it didn't look open. Of course, it was 2 in the morning,
so that wasn't so unusual. However, she also wasn't sure about doing
this at all. The guy could be a maniac, and she, quite frankly,
didn't seem to have the best of luck with men. The last few guys she
had been attracted to had all be killers of one flavor or another.
Well, she would give her admirer five minutes, then she would go down
the street to the all-night diner. She didn't have too much time,
anyway. She sat down on the front steps and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
With a slight growl, Tracy got up to go. As soon as she began to
walk away, though, the entire front of the restaurant lit up with
hundreds of white Christmas lights. She stopped and turned around to
find a waiter at the open front door.
"Ms. Vetter?" He asked. When she nodded, he continued. "Come in
please."
Tracy hesitated, then followed him inside. It was also it by tiny
lights, but accented with candles on all of the empty tables. Only
one, in the center of the room, was set.
For one.
"This way please," the waiter continued. "May I take your coat?"
She handed him her leather coat and sat at the table.
"Who set all this up?" she asked the waiter. "And why am I eating
alone?"
"The gentleman is ... shy," the waiter explained. "And he also
understood that you might be short of time. So he has taken the
liberty of ordering for you."
He poured her a glass of her favorite brand of mineral water, while
two other waiters descended on the table with trays laden with food.
Tracy boggled at the selections; they were all her favorite foods:
Baked chicken in a white wine lemon sauce, steamed asparagus,
redskined mashed potatoes, and honey glazed baby carrots. Ignoring
her misgivings, Tracy dug in with relish.
*****
End Part 01/02
*****
Note: The first note from Tracy's secret admirer is a quote from
Francis Bacon. The quote in the second note is from Victor Hugo.
Legal: Forever Knight characters aren't mine, but I'd rather get them
than chocolates on Valentines's day.
This entire text is archived at http://home.earthlink.net/~kusine/
(<--shameless plug :-).
All comments and emerald necklaces may be sent to kusine@yahoo.com.
All flames will be used to light my fireplace.
You must see "The End" or something's missing.
*****
Butterfly (02/02)
*****
Twenty minutes later, Tracy leaned back in her chair and tried not to
belch in contentment. She hadn't eaten this well in months! She had
been too busy to cook lately, and her salary didn't really allow her
to eat out too often.
"Ms. Vetter?" a voice asked. Tracy looked up to see a waiter with a
small covered plate on a tray. "May I offer you dessert?"
"Ooh! Yes!" Tracy replied happily, and sat up straight.
The waiter set down the covered plate in front of her, then left.
Tracy uncovered the plate, looking forward to some sort of chocolate
confection. She was only mildly disappointed to find another silver
wrapped box, this one smaller than the last.
She unwrapped it quickly, finding a pair of emerald earrings that
matched the necklace she had already received. Again, hidden under
the black velvet was a note:
None without hope e'er lov'd the brightest fair,
But love can hope where reason would despair.
A secret admirer
She had to admit that after the wonderful dinner, she was feeling
more inclined to like this secret admirer of hers. Now, if only she
could find out who it was!
*****
Tracy passed the rest of the night shift with no more surprises from
her secret admirer, though she was hoping for one. Only paperwork
and a smug partner greeted her upon her return to the station. Every
time the front door opened, Tracy had looked up, hoping that the
person entering would come over and declare himself as her admirer.
What she would do if that actually occurred, she wasn't sure, but she
wanted the chance to find out.
By the time she arrived home in the pre-dawn hours, she was
disappointed. She trudged up the stairs to her third floor
apartment, hoping to just drop into bed and sleep it off. As she
reached the top of the stairs, however, she saw a large silver
wrapped box in front of her door. Nearly sprinting, she was at her
door in moments, snatched up the present, and let herself into her
apartment.
She flipped on the light and ripped the paper off the package in her
excitement. Pulling off the top revealed a beautiful black velvet
dress, a long sheath with narrow straps. She stared at it with her
mouth open, then carefully folded it over her arm to look for a card.
There was one, larger than the others.
My dearest Tracy,
I fear to reveal myself to you. You have
seen me before and piled only scorn upon me.
I am not suave or handsome, nor am I witty or
schooled in the ways of love. I know only my
own heart and the love that bursts from it
whenever I see your lovely face, hear your
laugh, or smell your scent upon the air.
I ask that you accept my gifts without
obligation. I want nothing from you that you
do not readily and freely give. I only wish for
your happiness and for you to have all that is
beautiful in life.
Should you wish to meet me, I will do it.
However, please do not feel that you must. I
will be happy to know that you enjoy my gifts
without intrusion. But my fear of meeting
you would be outweighed by my joy in seeing your
beauty up close.
To summon me, all that you must do is wear the
gifts that I have given you. I will know.
A secret admirer
Tracy stared at the letter in her hand. It was beautifully
heartfelt. Who did she know and "scorn" that could write such words?
And, if she did scorn him, he must have a very forgiving heart.
Tracy was touched.
But she was unsure of what to do. Should she discover who it was and
risk hurting someone who obviously had a very gentle soul? Or should
she not meet him and ...
... And *what*? Not take a risk? Not love or be loved? Be afraid
that she would recoil in disgust? Discover her own pettiness? Be a
coward?
Tracy liked to think that she was a brave person. Not fearless,
because sometimes not being afraid was stupid, but brave. Right now
she was afraid. Afraid that she wouldn't be able to see through her
past impressions of this man to the real one that showed himself in
his letter. Bravery would be to accept that fear and face it, face
him.
She decided to be brave. She gathered her night's gifts and went
into the bedroom to change.
******
He stood nervously at the door, afraid to knock. He had seen her
come into her living room, wearing the dress and jewelry, so he knew
she wanted to see him.
But he was afraid.
She had never thought of him with love, he knew that. She had curled
up her nose -- a beautiful nose -- at him. She thought him
uneducated and uncouth. Could he really reveal himself to her?
Would she slam the door in his face? Would she laugh at him? Would
she be disgusted? Would she hate him?
Or would she be as good-hearted as he knew her to be and be kind?
He didn't know, and that's what made him afraid. He looked down at
himself, checking to make sure he looked as good as he possibly
could. The tux fit -- several evenings in a tailor shop had ensured
that. His shoes had just been shined on the way over. He
straightened his bow-tie one last time.
Now he was only stalling. Before he could stop himself, he reached
up and knocked on the door. He could hear her heartbeat race as she
walked over to the door. After a deep breath, she opened it.
She stared.
"Screed?" she asked faintly.
"Um ... su'prise," he said, his voice nearly shaking. "I's yer
admirer."
"Uh ..." Tracy paused and again took a deep breath, then smiled.
"Please come in, Screed. And thank you for the beautiful gifts. I
don't think I've ever had anything as lovely."
"Aye, but ya' 'ave," he said, smiling slowly. "Ya' 'have ya'self."
******
The End.
*****
Note: The first note in this section from Tracy's secret admirer is a
quote from Lord Lyttleton.
=====
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