SUMMARY: Vicki's not exactly a typical girl. That's okay, though, because Henry's not a typical guy.
CONTINUITY: Some generic time early in the TV series.
DISCLAIMER: The setting and characters belong to Tanya Huff, Lifetime TV, a production company or two, and pretty much anyone who isn't me.
NOTES: This is a hastily written present for Dragonsinger, in the hopes that it will cheer her up. Thanks to Medie for providing an emergency plot bunny. Unbetaread, due to time constraints, so please let me know if you find any glaring problems.
"You're kidding, right?" Vicki stared at Henry with dismay. "There's got to be another way to get this info. Coreen swears everything is on the Net now."
Henry's lips tightened in a familiar look of frustration with her. "I can assure you that a New Year's ball is not my idea of fun either, but it will enable us to see if Simon Carle is using magic to unduly influence people."
"Then you go to the ball and I'll wait outside." Crossing her arms, she glared.
"This is your case, not mine." Henry looked at her, doing that impassive 'I'm the cool vampire' thing, then walked slowly around her in a circle. Vicki did her best not to squirm. "You're actually afraid," he said. "I didn't think that was possible."
"I'm not afraid. I just don't like..." She waved her hands, trying to articulate the utter horror that dressing up and cosmetics and hors d'oeuvres caused in her.
Henry smiled happily. "That makes this a challenge."
Vicki gave up her pretense of bravery and backed away. Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough.
Three hours later, she stood in front of a set of mirrors while Henry prowled around her. Now, instead of studying her face, he was looking at her body, encased in something green. She was sure that most women would know all kinds of words to describe it, but all she could come up with was green. It was a green...dress. Thing.
At least Henry had been sensible enough to avoid any lazy frilly crap. But still...
"I feel like an idiot," Vicki said.
Henry looked up from examining the hemline and Vicki caught her breath at his expression, which was one step away from vampire. "You don't look foolish at all."
Vicki opened her mouth, certain she should say something, but when she realized she had no idea what, she closed it again.
Henry went back to dressing her like a doll and she scowled fiercely at his goddamn handsome profile.
"Stop tugging at the waistline," Henry said softly as they strolled toward the doors. "It fits beautifully."
"It feels tight."
Henry was obviously suppressing a grin. "That's the point."
"I hate you," Vicki said as they reached their destination.
The ballroom was already full when they entered, and Vicki automatically scanned the room for dangers.
"Try for a moment," Henry said with a sigh, "to act like the escort of a famous writer of graphic novels rather than like a cop."
"I can't help it," Vicki said as a waitress in an extremely abbreviated skirt offered her a glass of champagne. Vicki waved her away, but Henry snatched one before the tray escaped. "What happened to 'I don't drink...wine.'?"
"You're taking your cues from the movies again." Henry sipped the champagne. "I can't get drunk, but I can enjoy the flavor."
Something about the crowd nagged at Vicki's mind as she looked for their target. "Hey, why are all the women dressed in black or gray, but I'm in green?"
"Because you'd look dreadful in black," Henry said absently as he smiled politely at a young blonde who looked like she had more makeup than sense and more genuinely at an older man who saluted him with his champagne glass.
"But I'm almost the only woman wearing a color in the whole room. I stand out!"
Turning to look incredulously at her, Henry said, "Now you're worried about being fashionable?"
"No, I just don't think I should stand out when we're here working."
Henry shook his head. "You're with me. You would stand out in any case, so why not showcase you to your advantage? Besides the current fashion for black is ridiculous."
About to make a comment about the size of his ego, Vicki realized that nearly every woman (and a large percentage of men) in their vicinity were eyeing Henry like he was a particularly choice dish. "Ah."
"There are many reasons I don't attend these parties. I prefer the more...honest atmosphere of the bars and clubs."
"Where you're the hunter, not the prey."
He grinned. "That too."
"So, have you seen--"
"Carle is behind you and to the right, approximately 50 feet away. He's wearing an ill-fitting tuxedo and chatting with a young lady who looks entirely enraptured."
Vicki closed her mouth on an annoyed comment. "Well, I'm going to go put a stop to that."
Henry grabbed her arm. "Don't be ridiculous. We're here to observe him, not get ourselves thrown out."
"I don't intend to stay any longer than I have to, but if he's already selected a victim, then let's go get him."
Henry's hand tightened painfully on her arm and he scowled. "You may very well be the most exasperating woman it has ever been my pleasure to escort. How can you be so intelligent one moment and so stupid the next?"
"Oh you flatterer you." Vicki rolled her eyes.
"I mean it. Aren't you the one who told me we needed evidence? I was ready to simply kill him and be done with it."
An elegant arm covered in expensive bangles insinuated itself between them and dragged Henry away. "Darling," the owner of the arm said, "you're always such a kidder. Which of your characters are you killing today?"
"Ah, Emerald," Henry said, giving Vicki a look that said to stay put. "It's always a pleasure to see you."
Vicki smiled her most dangerous smile. "While you're catching up with your friend, I'll just go mingle."
As she slid away through the crowd, she could hear Emerald say "Who was that, Henry?"
Nobody, Vicki thought with venom. I'm nobody.
She moved as fast as she could without stepping on anyone's toes. She knew Henry couldn't use his uncanny speed in this crowd, so she had a few moment's advantage and she intended to use it while he was delayed with Emerald.
This is what happens, she thought, when you start depending on someone else to help: You get sloppy. Get in there, catch the perp, find the evidence when you're sure nobody else will get hurt. She'd saved a lot of lives following those simple rules and there was no reason to stop now.
There he was. Vicki hated her glasses, but at least they helped her find the perp now. And...damn it, he was on his way out of the room with a tall brunette wearing enough diamonds that she glittered painfully in brightly lit room. Nobody else seemed to notice them, but his spell wouldn't work on her, Henry s--it wouldn't work on her.
What the heck was he doing? Had he gotten so overconfident?
Vicki cursed under her breath as she tried to work her way around a knot of laughing socialite whose platinum blonde highlights probably cost more than her monthly office rent.
"Pardon me," one said as Vicki elbowed her aside.
"Uh-huh," Vicki said. "'Scuse me."
Through that door, that's where he'd gone. Finally through the crowd, Vicki almost broke into a run, ignoring the strange looks from around her as she burst through the door.
"Certainly," the brunette was saying, taking off her choker filled with diamonds. "If you really want it, of course I'll give it to you." Her eyes looked almost drugged.
Carle turned to stare at Vicki. "You want to leave now," he said, his voice faintly hypnotic.
Shaking her head, Vicki stepped forward. "Like hell I do. Give those diamonds back, now."
He frowned. "Listen to me," he said, focusing on her. "You don't see anything happening here."
Vicki's vision went red and she took another step forward, punching Carle square in the face. He went down with an audible thump and the brunette, who'd been staring off into space, seemed to awaken.
"What...what's going on?" she asked, looking around.
Vicki blinked. "That man was stealing your diamonds," she said simply, pointing to Carle. "I hit him."
"How did you know?" She was still dazed, still suggestible.
"I heard you scream, of course," Vicki said carefully, just as the door burst open, revealing an angry Henry Fitzroy. "There you are, Henry. I'm glad you heard this woman scream too and came to help."
He still looked pissed, but he knew a cue when he heard one. "Indeed. I'm very glad we were able to help you."
"Yes," the brunette said, "I did scream, didn't I?" Her voice got stronger. "That man is holding some of my jewelry! How dare he? Call the police!"
"Certainly," Henry said. His look at Vicki promised a talk later.
While they were waiting for the police and various men stood guard over the unconscious Carle, trying to look tough, Henry dragged Vicki aside. "What was that about?"
"That was me solving the case in the most direct fashion. Seems pretty obvious to me."
"You know what I mean." His teeth sounded like they were grinding together. "What do you mean by taking off without me? I thought the idea was that we would work together."
"I didn't need you tonight," she said.
"Oh lovely." He threw his hands in the air. "You'll call me when you need me, then? What if I'd been wrong about his spells not working on you?"
Vicki took a deep breath, knowing he was right. She had brought him into this to begin with. "I'm sorry, Henry. You're right. I shouldn't have taken off like that."
He opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. "Ah. Well, then that's that."
"Right." She turned as two detectives she didn't know strode into the room, obvious in their off-the-rack overcoats. Vicki crossed her arms, suddenly feeling ridiculous in this skintight green thing Henry had bought for her.
"And who are you?" the detective said with a frown as he sorted out spectators from participants.
"Vicki Nelson. I called you in. I witnessed the theft personally." Good god, had cops gotten slower or was she getting more impatient?
"Nelson?" his partner asked. "You used to be a cop, didn't you? Worked with Mike Celluci."
"That's me. I worked with good ol' Mike. Now can we get on with this?" She shot a glance at the unconscious crook, worrying he'd wake up before they could get a witch near enough him to break his charms. If he talked his way out of this, she was going to be mad enough to chew bullets.
"How'd a former cop get into this affair?" the first detective asked he was getting out his notebook.
"I came with him," she said, pointing at Henry. "Henry Fitzroy. He draws comic books."
"Graphic novels," Henry muttered under his breath as he smiled pleasantly at the detectives.
"Same difference," she said. "The guys at the comic book store said so."
"You're Henry Fitzroy?" the second detective asked. "My kid in college says your stuff's the best. I dunno about that, but he thinks you're pretty cool."
"Thank you," Henry said, bowing slightly. "I'm very glad to hear that."
Vicki rolled her eyes and tried to avoid tapping her toes.
Thankfully, Caroline, the witch they'd found to break the spells, was lurking around outside when they cops finally towed the Carle away. Vicki delayed the cops by tripping and almost falling, forcing them to stop for a few moments. While their heads were turned, Caroline tossed a handful of powder in the direction of Carle, which briefly fluoresced in the moonlight. She gave Vicki and Henry a thumbs up and melted back into the gawking crowd.
Within moments, the cops pulled away with their perp stowed away, and Vicki took a deep breath, stomping away from the crowd.
"Vicki!" Henry called.
"What?" She kept going until she found a path that led around the back of the mansion, toward the gardens.
"Is there something that needs doing back here?"
"No."
In the blink of an eye, Henry stood in front of her, studying her with concern. "You're actually pouting!" He looked more startled than she'd ever seen him, including the time a ghost had walked right through him.
"I'm not!" She resisted the childish urge to stamp her feet. "I don't pout. I scowl. I smile. I glare. I smack people around. I do not pout."
Henry stepped forward and took her chin in his hand, thumb stroking her cheek. "Whatever you say. Why are you...not pouting? This seems to be a most satisfactory outcome to the case, since you've 'collared' the suspect without having to describe any supernatural occurrences to your former colleagues."
"Yeah, great." Avoiding his eyes, she remembered the amused look in the cops' eyes when they realized who she was and where she was. At least Celluci hadn't been there. He'd have laughed his ass off and never let her forget it.
Henry sighed and turned her head so she was looking at him. "What's wrong? It seems I won't have any peace until I figure that out."
"Nothing's wrong. Everything's wonderful. Why don't you go back to Emerald now?"
Henry continued to stroke her cheek, rather as if calming a dog. "You're...jealous of Emerald? She's n--"
"God no, I'm not jealous of her. If she has three brain cells to rub together, I'd be surprised. Not your type at all."
Henry's brow was knit and Vicki absently noted that he was even more adorable when he was confused. "Then the problem is...?"
Vicki pulled away from him, stomping off to lean against a railing and stare at the manicured grounds, plucking at the silky material of her dress. "I don't belong here. You're an artist. You're gorgeous and polished. You're royalty."
"Dead royalty," Henry said, coming to lean next to her.
"Ha ha, very funny. You know what I mean."
Henry sighed quietly. "I must admit that I never expected to hear you admit to being inferior to anyone."
"I never said that." She glared at him, before transferring her glare to a particularly ridiculous-looking topiary giraffe. "I didn't say I'm inferior to anyone here. Just that I don't belong in this crowd. I'm a cop, no matter what. I belong someplace with beer and Chinese."
Shaking his head, Henry chuckled. "That's my Vicki."
"I'm not your anything."
"I wish you were." The words were soft, the tone lacking any mockery.
She stared straight ahead.
"Vicki, please look at me."
She turned her head and found his face nearly against her cheek. "Henry?"
"I don't belong here either. Remember, I said that earlier. I may be able to fit in temporarily, but this is not my milieu any more than it is yours. And there is no-one in that room who could hold a candle to you."
"That's rid--"
"You wear that dress just as you do your ordinary clothes: Like battle armor. You're filled with an inner fire that those people can only dream of, which lights up the space around you. You're irresistible."
"Henry, I--"
"Shhh." He touched a finger to her lips and the warmth spread to her cheeks. "Let me finish. You may not think you belong here, but you could own that room if you needed to. Besides," and his eyes darkened, "I love the way you look in that dress."
"I...I don't know what to say." Her chest felt tight.
"Say you'll let me see how you look out of that dress." His mischievous grin was back.
She grinned back at him. "We'll see about that, buster."
"As long as you don't rule it out."
"No," she said slowly, "I haven't ruled it out."
He took her hand, drawing her away from the railing. "Then let's go find someplace with beer and Chinese."
"In these clothes?" She looked down. "You're crazy."
"Maybe." He laughed. "But it's a pleasant madness."
Shaking her head, she followed Henry to his car.
--end--