Notes: Currently, I'm working on two really long stories in the Bloodties
series, but a few days ago, I had the urge to write a Christmas story. Back
in 1996, the very first story I ever posted was, "A Ghost of Winter's Past"
(http://www.ondragonswing.com/tales/ghost.htm ), and I guess I was feeling
nostalgic. In a way, this is a sequel to that story, separated by a mere
few thousand years. I'd recently discovered an unfinished story, which was
supposed to have been part of a Star Wars challenge many years ago. It
occurred to me, that with a little adaptation, this unfinished tale could
be the basis for my Christmas story.
So, this story takes place about five years after my "When Did Forever
Die?" trilogy
( http://www.ondragonswing.com/tales/last1st.html ). The third part of
which is one of the two stories I'm currently working on.
I'd like to take the opportunity to thank all those who've read our stories
over the years, and have emailed all of the authours, including myself,
with notes of encouragement. I never would have believed that nearly ten
years later, people would still be reading these stories. So thank you!
Thanks also to my lovely beta readers, Tammy and April for such swift work!
And thanks to Tammy for title inspiration!
All the stories in the Bloodties Series can be found here:
http://www.ondragonswing.com/tales/btarchive.htm
All Forever Knight, Highlander, and Star Trek characters belong to their
respective owners. All original characters belong to this authour and her
fellow Bloodties authours.
Permission granted to archive on FK Fanfiction, the FK FTP site, and
Seventh Dimension. All others, please ask.
*******************
"Fathers Christmas"
by Denise Underwood
c. 2005
Part One
"I want to be a Jedi Knight when I grow up, Papa," the five year old
announced solemnly from where she sat on the floor watching "Star Wars".
The little girl looked up at her father as he entered the room. "I would
have a light saber and protect our planet from all the bad people."
Lucien LaCroix sat in a chair next to the girl, stroking her long red hair
affectionately. "Do you think there will be bad people you will need to
protect us from then?"
"There are always bad people." She looked at him with an expression that
was all her mother's. The one that said, "Even you should realize that!"
"You are your mother's daughter," he murmured before continuing, "Shouldn't
you be with your tutor, Lucia? I believe it is Latin this afternoon, isn't it?"
"I went, but he was talking to Methos. So I came back here. I wanted to see
the end of the movie."
"As if you haven't seen the end of the movie a dozen times already," he
said in amusement mixed with exasperation. He'd forgotten just how
single-minded five-year-old girls could be.
But Lucia wasn't interested in the end of the movie anymore. "Why don't
Mummy and Methos have light sabers? Wouldn't they work much better than old
swords? Auntie Stephnee has one, she showed me." She held up her arms and
LaCroix obligingly pulled her into his lap. "What if some bad man had one
and Mummy didn't? I don't want her to get hurt," she said on the verge of
tears.
He held her tightly and said reassuringly, "No one is going to hurt your
mother -- and certainly not with an energy blade. You know I protect her as
I keep you safe from harm, do you not?
Looking up at him with startlingly blue eyes, she chewed her lower lip
while considering his words. "What about Methos? Will you keep him safe too?"
LaCroix laughed. "Have no worries, my dear Lucia. Methos has been taking
care of himself for a very long time. He will be fine." He shifted the
little girl in his lap so he could look at her. "But you know it upsets
your mother to have you call him by his name." He wondered at this sudden
habit of the child's to not call Methos 'Daddy', as she has since she could
talk. LaCroix knew it bothered Triona, but until now he hadn't had the
opportunity to raise it with the girl.
The child gave a little shrug. "He doesn't like it."
"What ever gave you such an idea?" he asked, genuinely baffled at Lucia's
response.
"I dunno," she whispered, "he just doesn't. I don't think he likes being my
daddy like you do." Lucia plucked at the buttons of her jumper, chewing her
lip with even more determination. "So if I were a Jedi Knight and was a
hero, then maybe he'd want to be my daddy again," she finished with the
unarguable logic of a child.
He heard the almost imperceptible catch of breath behind him, realizing
with a sinking heart that Triona must have heard every word. Sending out a
warm wave of reassurance to her through their blood bond, LaCroix kept his
attention on Lucia, hoping that Triona would let him take care of it.
Relieved, he felt her draw back.
Damn it all. Methos had always had reservations about Triona's decision to
have a child, no matter how unusual the means had been. But he had taken on
the role of being Lucia's daddy, as he had become her papa. It made no
sense, that now, five years later; his feelings would have changed.
Had the child overheard something? Or was it more than that? He'd come to
suspect his daughter might be something of an empath, but had no real
proof, just a feeling. Something she'd inherited from her mother no doubt,
Triona having a strong psychic gift that had been wakened by becoming his
fledgling. But Lucia was so young, and there was nothing that could have
been a catalyst for such a talent. Perhaps Lucia had picked up on Methos'
unease at the impending Christmas visit of Lucia's biological father,
Jean-Luc Picard. They had decided it was time for him to become a part of
his daughter's life, now that she was old enough to understand her origins.
Though Methos had agreed, LaCroix wasn't sure he had totally reconciled
himself to the idea.
LaCroix hugged the little girl in his lap. "Lucia, I have always told you
the truth, have I not?"
"Uh huh," she nodded solemnly.
"Then believe me when I tell you that Methos does love you. Yes, before you
were born, he worried. But that was only because he was afraid your mother
would be hurt. You know that she wasn't able to carry you inside her like
the mothers of your friends and that it was a difficult process to bring
you into the world." Or that Methos was vehemently opposed because of what
it would do to Triona in the end, when she had to watch her child grow old
and die. But that was something he couldn't explain to Lucia. "But Methos
has loved you from the moment he held you. You don't need to be anything
but yourself, ma petite chou, for us to love you."
As LaCroix spoke, he projected as much reassurance as he could. They didn't
share a blood bond of course, but if she was manifesting some psychic gift,
it should work much the same way. Whether it was that, his words, or his
hug, it seemed to work. A smile tugged at her small lips as she leaned up
to kiss him on the cheek. "Je t'aime, Papa," she said, throwing her arms
around his neck.
"Et je vous aime, mon précieux un," he replied softly, "and I love you."
The scent of Triona's perfume wafted around him as she drew further into
the room, leaning down to kiss first Lucia then him.
"And I love both of you," she said as she came around the chair to sit on
the arm. LaCroix took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. He
could feel how tightly she was shielding her emotions.
"Mummy!" Lucia said happily at the sound of her mother's voice. "You came
home early!"
Hugging her daughter, she said, "Yes, I did -- and to find your tutor
looking for you. We've talked about you missing your classes, Cia. Now, off
you go!" she finished firmly.
"Oh, Mummy, do I have to?"
LaCroix interrupted Triona's reply. "Lucia has worked very hard this last
month, and it is almost Christmas." Lucia held her breath, looking back and
forth between her parents hopefully.
"Christmas? Are you sure?" Triona tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I could
have sworn that was next month."
Lucia was barely able to contain herself. "No, Mummy, it's in five days!"
She held up her hand, five little fingers extended.
"Well, if you're sure..." she said doubtfully, before tickling her
daughter, making her giggle.
"We're quite sure," LaCroix said with a nod, Lucia following suit. "So
surely it wouldn't hurt for her to miss her classes this one afternoon
before her winter holiday?"
Triona looked at LaCroix with ill-concealed irritation as Lucia squealed in
excitement. "And what choice do I have now?"
"Oh, Mummy, pleeeease...." Lucia wheedled, using the pathetic, innocent
expression she seemed to have been born with the knack of using effectively
"Very well." Triona relented. "You spoil her terribly, Lucien," she said
with mock severity. He just smiled slightly looking totally unrepentant.
Lucia leapt off of LaCroix's lap, ready to race from the room. "Not so
fast!" her mother's voice stopping her in mid step. "That doesn't mean I
want you holed up in your room watching vids all day either." Lucia began
to pout, her plans for the day being effectively quashed. "And no pouting.
You could always spend the afternoon with your tutor, you know," she
reminded her daughter.
"Yes, Mummy," she said, trying very hard to look contrite. Both her parents
swallowed smiles at Lucia's expression.
"That's better. Now, I think of you hurry, you can catch your Auntie Steph
and Auntie Lauren before they leave for the Southern Continent. It's time
to check the tea plantations." The little girl's eyes grew wide at the
mention of the plantations. "You did tell me you were old enough to go,
didn't you? Unless you've changed your mind...?"
"No!" Lucia replied with alacrity. "I've been wanting to go since I was
little!" She threw her arms around her mother's waist. "Thank you, Mummy!"
"You're welcome, little one. Now, mind your aunts and remember you
represent the Family to our citizens that live on the Southern Continent.
Be a good girl, okay?" Triona gave her daughter a hug and kiss. "Off you go!"
Lucia hugged her mother once more, then her father, before racing out of
the room. Her shout of '"I'll be good" trailing behind her.
"Now who is it that spoils her?" LaCroix asked as he came up behind her,
wrapping his arms around her waist.
Triona leaned against him as his hands gently stroked her. "It isn't
spoiling her to introduce her to her duties," she said archly.
"Mm-hmm...her duties. It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact she's
been pestering us for months to be allowed to make the trip, now would it?"
Triona shook her head. "Of course not," she said, not really believing her
own denial and knowing LaCroix didn't either. She turned in his arms,
looking up at him; her eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears. "How could
she think Methos doesn't love her? Was I wrong to tell her where she came
from? Should I have just let her think she came into the world like every
other human child? Two parents, a mother and a father. No genetic miracles,
or surrogates or the biological father she doesn't know." She was crying
now in earnest, her heart breaking at the thought she'd brought her child
pain, no matter how unwitting.
"No. You did the right thing. *We* did the right thing. We have never lied
to her about her origins. It was the right decision then, it is the correct
one now." He took her shoulders in a strong grip as she shook her head in
denial. "Listen to me, Triona. I will not have you second-guessing
yourself. What's done is done. We can not change the knowledge our daughter
already holds. All we can do is deal with how that knowledge affects her
now and in the future." He then went on to explain how he thought Lucia
might be manifesting an empathic gift.
Triona sank onto the sofa, her brow creased in thought. "So, you think she
picked up on Methos' uncertainty at Jean-Luc's visit, and took that to mean
he didn't love her?"
"That's what I think. I can not imagine Methos doing anything to purposely
hurt the child, no matter what his reservations might be. Can you?"
"No. No, of course not. I should speak to him." She started to get up, but
was restrained by LaCroix's hand on her shoulder.
"I'll speak to him," he said firmly. "You're far too emotional to discuss
this rationally with him at this juncture," he added in response to the
look of objection in her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Perhaps it's best."
"All will be well. I promise you."
*****
Ith ~ ithildin@ondragonswing.com ~ Denise
House M.D. : http://groups.yahoo.com/group/DrHouse/
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