Usual Disclaimer: I don't own Tracy or any of her little undead playmates. No copyright infringement is intended, please don't sue, I'm a poor college student and all you'd get is microwavable vegetarian burritos. <g>

This is more post-LK fare. Lots of Lacroix, focusing on Tracy. Permission to archive granted to all Dark Perks, everyone else must ask first. Enjoy! J

Funeral

By: Cousin Mary (Jenkins) 10-98

Tracy Vetter was dead.

Lacroix looked around at the funeral of his son's partner. Earlier that day the mortals had held the fallen officer's official memorial service. '21-gun salute,' he supposed, 'flowers, weeping virgins, the usual.'

Now it was close to midnight. The funeral parlor, long since closed, had been reopened at his son's 'request' for those unable to attend those sun-drenched services.

'It's good to see Nicholas using his powers again.' Lacroix mused as he glanced around at the mourners. There were many of his kind here. Many more than he'd thought any mortal, especially one so young, could draw.

There was Nicholas, of course, along with his new daughter Natalie. Lacroix allowed himself a small smile at the corner, she'd just been too stubborn to die. 'She'll do Nicholas some good,' he thought, not that he'd ever admit he thought as such to either of them.

The Spaniard was in attendance as well, pulled himself out of his own grave just in time to find his beloved entering her own. 'Tragic,' Lacroix thought, smirking at the irony. Truth was, he'd never really known what to make of that relationship. Months ago, in passing, he'd heard of the Spaniard and young Vetter's friendship, but he'd never suspected she'd been privy to their secret. They'd both held their confidences well.

It annoyed him that he hadn't known. Actually, it seemed the more he learned of this Tracy Vetter the more she annoyed him. Never mind the fact that she was dead, she had had too many secrets. Things he should have known.

Lacroix looked around the parlour again, this time with sharp eyes. There was Jody, with her hound in the back. Yet another one of Ms. Vetter's connections to his world. There was Screed, lurking in the back with suspiciously wet eyes. And of course where ever Vachon went, so went Urs. Though even the young goddess seemed drained by Ms. Vetter's passing.

Near the door also skulked several more of their kind, ones he didn't have names for. And from the way both his son and the Spaniard were looking at them, Lacroix doubted they did either.

There were a pair of Enforcers in the back, trying not to be noticed. At first he'd thought perhaps Ms. Vetter had met her untimely death just before meeting those two, perhaps just saving them their work. But then he'd noticed that they'd brought flowers, apparently they'd met her before and decided for once not to enforce the code. 'How had she talked them out of it?' Lacroix wondered, for surely Nicholas had had nothing to do with her protection, he would have heard of it.

Most of the mourners had brought calla lilies, the Enforcers had, Nicholas, the Spaniard had brought dozens. Lacroix felt out of place with his single white rose. He could hear the others talking, her blood had evidently smelt strongly of the bloom. Slipping his rose back into his jacket pocket, Lacroix watched as the members of the community tried to consul one another. He suppressed a grimace, 'it's not like she was one of us!' He thought angrily.

So absorbed in his own musings, it took Lacroix a moment to realise that conversation in the parlour had dropped off. Everyone was listening in on the pair morticians standing at a side door. They were mortals, whispering to each other, not realising that everyone in the room could easily hear them.

They were talking about Tracy Vetter's earlier funeral. How almost no one had attended.

"Yeah," said one, "I heard her Mom's an alcoholic and couldn't drag herself out of bed for the service."

"And the Dad was a half hour late and left early," The other remarked, "Late for a meeting or something."

"Well, she was loved wasn't she?" The first commented snidely, "I hear only four people showed up, and no one even shed a tear."

A heavy sensation descended across the parlour, the vampires began exchanging horrified looks. Despite how much they'd miss Tracy, how could the mortals not? They barely noticed as Urs went and politely asked the mortals to leave.

Lacroix himself didn't feel bad. In fact, what he -did- feel was a sort of sickening realisation that despite being mortal, Tracy Vetter had very much indeed been a member of their community. While the good doctor had really only had ties with Nicholas and himself, Tracy had managed to connect herself quite readily to a good deal of the community, and in such a way that not many had even been aware of her other ties. He felt a growing admiration for Tracy Vetter's slyness. Just how much had she known? Or, from the looks of it, perhaps he should be asking, what hadn't she known?

Lacroix watched with detachment as the procession past the coffin began. Nicholas cried, of course. He probably would have stayed at its side all night, if Natalie hadn't pulled him away.

The Spaniard was next. Vachon came within five feet of the coffin and stopped dead in his tracks, just staring. For a moment Lacroix thought he might plan on doing himself harm, but then Urs and Screed came to lead him back to his seat. The Spaniard was stiff as a board, obviously in complete shock over losing his love.

The rest quickly paraded by: Jody, who sobbed, the unnamed vampires, who mumbled something in Arabic he didn't quite catch, the Enforcers, who left a small red box atop the coffin. An offering only they, and presumably Tracy, understood.

No one really expected him to walk up, so he didn't. He just stood in the back and watched. Nicholas shot him a grateful look, just happy he'd attended. His son thought he'd come solely for his benefit. And while mostly true, it wasn't the whole story. The fact was, his one and only meeting with young Vetter, she had intrigued him. She'd suspected him, that much had been obvious, but she'd watched him watching her. Quite amusing actually, if it hadn't been for Divia's…

'Ah well, no use worrying about that now.' Lacroix smiled sadly with thoughts of what had almost been. He'd planned on paying young Ms. Vetter a visit, to help ease the pain of the Spaniard's passing. His eyes flicked across Vachon's shaking form. Well, there was no need now, even if she'd still been alive.

Lacroix flinched as he realised what he was doing. He would -not- give in to these feelings. Mortals die. He wouldn't allow himself to mourn one he hadn't really even known!

After a while, he looked up again. He was alone. Strange, he hadn't even noticed the others leaving. Frowning slightly, Lacroix moved towards the casket. He would pay his respects.

He stood before the white lacquered, drenched in lilies and touched the top. Inside lay Tracy Vetter, fallen officer…fallen angel.

He signed and placed his crushed rose atop the casket. He was about to move away, when he turned and looked again. He had to see her, just one last time. Someone he'd never known, but thought he would have very much liked. Glancing around to make sure he wasn't being observed, Lacroix slowly opened the coffin to find…nothing.

The white satin pillow lay untouched inside, there was no body.

A small smile touched his lips, he should have known.

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