For Mary Jenkins, my twin and my best friend.

This story follows Ashes to Ashes, it also follows the thread of my earlier
story "Forget Me Not" though you do not need to have read it to
understand/enjoy this.  If you would like to read "Forget Me Not" it is
archived at Mel's wonderful site and is also at my fiction page,
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Hollow/1228/Ren.htm

Comments are very gratefully accepted at darkpninja@aol.com

I do not own any of the Forever Knight characters who appear in the following
work of fiction.

My permission is granted to the Magnificent Mel to archive this story at
www.fkfanfic.com. My permission to archive is also granted to Mary Jenkins.

And now without further fanfare I very humbly submit,


The Scent of Lillies
Ren Miller
9/99
1/1


"Damn her!"

A delicate crystal wine goblet struck the wall and shattered.  The glittering
bits and pieces sprinkled down upon the Oriental rug like a shower of
diamonds.

The sudden violent action had brought him no relief so Lucien LaCroix
continued to pace, looking for the entire world like some newly caged wild
caught Panther.

She vexed him so and it was eating away at him like a cancer.  He could think
of nothing save her yet he avoided her and allowed her to slip through his
fingers like quicksilver.  Never in his mortal or immortal existence, had he
encountered an emotion quite like this.

And so the man who had once commanded armies of Roman soldiers almost two
thousand years ago now found himself humbled, literally brought to his knees
by a twenty-five year old mortal slip of a girl.

When he first laid his ice blue eyes on her it was with irritation.  She was
a chore to be taken care of.  A promise to be kept, a favor to be granted -
nothing more.

Yet, in short order he found his irritation had become infatuation.

How, he wondered, was it possible for one so young to have so much strength
of character.  So strong a mind that even 'he' was left exhausted and spent
after his attempt to change her memories.

Yet more important how was it that her golden hair seemed to capture the
sunlight that he had not seen in two millennia and the warm blue of her eyes
brought back long buried memories of the color of the Tyrrhenian Sea on a
hazy summer day?

Unbidden, the memory of how she looked at their last meeting wafted through
his mind bringing a gentle smile to his lips.  A smile that just as quickly
became a snarl.  How had he gotten himself into such a ridiculous
predicament?  Sniveling and moping about like some love sick sop had never
been his style.

What was it about this particular woman that inspired an immortal male who
took such great pride in his frozen heart to spend hours if not days pining
for her?

"Fresh air!  I need to be out!" and with that he stormed from his apartment
to the city streets.

Head down LaCroix strolled forward determined to removed her visage from his
fevered mind forever by whatever means necessary.  He was so utterly and
completely intent on his mission that he was unaware of the mortals who
quickly crossed to the other side of the street rather than face the daunting
dark apparition headed in their direction.

"Forget her, I will forget her as I have so many others ..." he broke off
when the scent of flowers filled his senses.  He stopped, looked up and found
himself in front of a small shop.  The intoxicating scent seemed to pull him
inside and he followed, helpless to resist.

"Sir?  Can I help you?" A tiny gray hared elderly woman stood almost hidden
behind a counter that was covered with flowers.

"That scent?"  He looked around, lost, "Some sort of a flower, but unusual,
different somehow.  What is it?"  He was unable to find words that described
the fragrance.

"Oh!  Why you must be smelling the shipment of Apricot Cala Lillies that just
came in!"  The clerk walked away into a cooler and returned with an armful of
barely opened buds.  "You, young man,  must have a wonderful sniffer to be
pulled in from the street that way."  With a gentle smile she offered one
delicate blossom to LaCroix.

It was pale peach, so pale it might almost be mistaken for ivory.  He took
the bud from her hand and inhaled.  It was her scent, unmistakably hers and
hers alone.

"It's quite a rare blossom sir, a new breed.  Difficult to find," she paused
meaningfully, "but well worth the search."

He met those soft eyes with his own, "Indeed. I would like to purchase every
one that you have and I would like them delivered."

With that same gentle yet knowing smile she asked, "And the young lady's
name?"

His whispered answer came straight from his newly warmed heart, "Tracy
Vetter."


end

Comments and flowers gratefully accepted at darkpninja@aol.com