From: "Felicia Olivier" <felicia_olivier@hotmail.com>

    For those of you who are puzzled as to how a CP relationship could 
promote the T&V relationship, I present exhibit 'B' (Emma's was 'A').

    Disclaimer:  Don't own 'em (except in my own mind), just borrowing.  I 
will put them back when I'm finished.  Permission is granted to archive at 
the www.fkfanfic.com and ftp sites, as well as to any Vaq, DP, CP, or T&V 
Packer.  Anyone else please ask, I'm pretty reasonable.

                        The Oldest Trick  (01/01)

     "So will you help me or not?"

     Lucien LaCroix regarded the blonde woman sitting before him.  He 
sighed.  Ever since she'd found out that her partner was a vampire, and 
about his connection with said partner, she'd been hanging around a lot.  
"What exactly did you have in mind, Detective Vetter?"

     "Tracy, call me Tracy.  Well, I was thinking maybe you and I could act 
sorta cozy,  ya know?  Maybe that would get his attention."  Tracy looked at 
LaCroix hopefully.

     LaCroix smirked.  He eyed her shapely long legs, clearly visible 
beneath the short leather skirt she wore.  He thought, "If the Spaniard 
hasn't noticed you yet, dear Detective, he must be blind."  He said, "You 
think to make him jealous?"

    Tracy shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze.  "I. . .I guess 
that's what I had in mind.  I'm at the end of my rope, Mr. LaCroix.  I've 
given him all the signs, and either he's just *that* dumb or he missed his 
calling on the stage."

    LaCroix smiled. "I vote for the former," he thought.  "You may call me 
Lucien.  Alright, *Tracy*, I shall help you.  I only hope that our little 
charade has the desired effect."

    "Great!  Let's go!"

    Tracy rose and LaCroix took her by the hand.  He led her out of the 
office and into the public area of the club.  It was packed, as usual.  
LaCroix selected a booth that was somewhat secluded, but was visible to 
those at the bar.  Tracy noticed Vachon sitting on a barstool next to Urs.

   Urs saw the couple enter the room.  She elbowed Vachon.  "Well Javier, 
looks like you missed the boat. . .again.  Seems *your* mortal has sought 
greener pastures."

   "Huh?"  Vachon turned and saw Tracy and LaCroix huddled close together in 
a booth.  He went very still, eyes wide open, like an animal caught in the 
headlights of an oncoming car.

    Urs laughed at her master.  "Hey, Javier!  Are ya in there?"

    "What the. . .?  This is crazy!  What is she doing with him," he 
sputtered.  They watched as LaCroix whispered something in Tracy's ear.  She 
blushed.

    "Well, from what I can see, she's enjoying herself immensely."

    And she was.  "Lucien, I think it's working," Tracy whispered.  "Did you 
see the look on his face just now?"

    LaCroix had almost forgotten it was an act.  He was consumed by the 
beauty next to him; her scent intoxicating him.  "I have eyes only for you, 
my dear," he purred.

    Tracy took a good look at the vampire beside her.  He was handsome 
enough, and had a great voice, but there was just something about Vachon 
that made her tummy do flips.  She smiled, gently touching his hand.  
"Great, Vetter," she thought, "now what?"

   Over at the bar, Vachon was muttering to himself.

   "What was that, Javier?  I didn't quite hear you."  Urs was loving this.

   He glared at her.  "I *said* 'what's he got that I haven't got?'"

   Urs laughed.  "You mean besides power, money, clean clothes, a *nice* 
place to live. . ."

   "*Yes* besides all of that!"  He pouted.  "C'mon, Urs, he doesn't have 
any hair!"

   "Short hair is in, Javier."

   "You know what?  You're no help whatsoever."  He watched LaCroix place a 
gentle kiss on her cheek.  "That's it!  I'm going over there!"

   "I'd be careful if I were you, Jav.  The General dosen't like to be 
disturbed when he is entertaining guests.  Remember, he has roughly fifteen 
hundred years on you."

   "Yeah, thanks, Urs."  Vachon slid off of the stool and stalked over to 
the booth.  "Evenin' Trace.  Can we talk?"

   Tracy glanced up and saw the look in his eyes.  "Mission accomplished," 
she thought.  "Oh, Javier, I didn't see you come in," she lied.

   LaCroix heard her heart speed up when Vachon had approached them, and 
realized, regrettably, that he truly was the object of her affection.  
"There's no accounting for taste," he thought.  "Would you care to join us, 
Javier?  I could slide over for you."  LaCroix would milk this for all it 
was worth.

   "Join you?  No, LaCroix, I would *not* care to join you.  I want to talk 
to Tracy. . *alone*."

   "I see.  Well, that is, of course, up to the lady."  He turned to her.  
"Tracy?"

   "Sure, Javier.  Just give me a minute, will you?  Over in that corner, 
I'll be there in just a second."

    Vachon shrugged and walked off to wait in the designated area.  Tracy 
turned to LaCroix, a huge grin on her face.  "Looks like we did it, Lucien.  
Thank you so much!"  She hugged him impulsively.  "I owe you one."

    LaCroix grinned, "You do indeed, Detective.  I'll let you know when I'm 
ready to collect."  She missed the fiendish look in his eyes.

   "Sure thing!"  Tracy gathered her purse and slipped out of the booth.  
She made herself walk, not run, but walk over to where Vachon waited for 
her.  "What's this about, Vachon?"

   "*That* is an excellent question.  Just what are you doing with him?"

   Tracy feigned puzzlement.  "With Lucien?"

   Vachon rolled his eyes.  "Yes, with *Lucien!  I thought we had. . ."

   Tracy met his eyes.  "Had what, Javier," she demanded.

   "C'mon, Trace, you know what I mean."  He looked decidedly uncomfortable, 
which is precisely what she was after.

   "Say it, Javier."

   He sighed.  He had him backed against the wall, and he knew it.  "You 
know, an understanding, a relationship. . ."

   "Funny," Tracy said.  "I don't recall hearing those words from you."

   She was not going to make this easy on him.  "Well, no, I guess, I, I 
just. . .  I thought it was implied."

   Tracy's eyes narrowed.  "Implied?  Look, that may have been the way it 
worked back in the sixteenth century, but wake up!  It's the '90s. . .the 
*19*90s.  Modern women don't do implied, Javier.  If you've got somethin' to 
say, then say it."

   Vachon's eyes widened in surprise.  She never ceased to amaze him.  He 
shrugged.  "Okay, okay, Trace. I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to take advantage 
of you.  I want to be with you, and only you.  Okay?"

   She wanted to make him work harder, but at those words she melted.  Her 
face relaxed into a smile.  "Okay, Javier.  But, listen, don't let it happen 
again, understand?"

   He grinned.  "No ma'am.  Wouldn't think of it."  He looked around at the 
swarming bodies and said, "What say we go somewhere just a little more 
private?'

   "Why, Javier, what *do* you have in mind?"

    Vachon took her hand and began to lead her to the door.  "You'll see," 
he said with a michievious grin.

    LaCroix had migrated over to the bar and sat next to Urs.  She turned to 
him and said, "Ahh, looks like the little show is over.  You were very good, 
I might add."

   He regarded her warily.  "Why whatever do you mean, my dear," he asked 
innocently.

   Urs laughed.  "Oh, please, LaCroix!  You and Tracy were magnificent.  The 
oldest trick in the book, and he fell for it hook, line, and sinker."

   "Yes, well.  I suppose it's a case of 'All's well that ends well.'"  His 
eyes followed the couple as they left the club hand in hand.  He smiled.  If 
only she knew that he'd only been half-acting.

End
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So, whaddya think?  Comments and virtual calla lillies to:
         felicia_olivier@hotmail.com