April Fool Disclaimers: The last I heard, Sony Tristar seemed to think they were the legal owners of these characters. Morally, judging by the care and attention given to them.... I think we fans are the actual owners, but let's not get into that particular legal morass, shall we? I'm just letting them come out to play for a few hours, to have some good old fashioned (and perfectly clean) fun for a while. Although I have written fanfic for other shows, and had stories published in zines, this is both my first piece of FK fanfic and the first piece I've posted to the web, so please - if you can't be kind, can you at least be polite about any criticism! And it hasn't been betaread, as I've dithered nervously about whether or not to write it at all for so long that I ran out of time, so it's post and be darned! Any typos and errors are therefore solely my responsibility - Mea Culpa! Special thanks go to all those who came up with possible answers to my question of just what did Nick do with all that space - your replies helped spark this story off in the first place. Permission is granted to post this to Mel's site, FK fanfic 2, and Steph's site - if by some miracle anyone else wants it, please write to me at keziahepden@hotmail.com and ask! ------------- LaCroix was in a quandary - and if there was one thing he really hated, it was being in a quandary. Here it was, 11pm on the thirty-first day of March, and he still didn't know what trick to play on Nick before tomorrow morning. Still, he continued to sound his usual urban self as he explained some of the many possible origins of April Fool's Day to his listeners. Really, some of these late 20th century folk could be *so* ignorant! Didn't they know it started in 1564 in France when they reformed the calendar, and started the New Year in January instead of April - people would mock those who either forgot, refused to 'move with the times' or got the news too late. That last one was a likely possiblity, after all. In those days, he pointedly explained, there were no phones, fax, email, text messaging, planes, cars or trains - just people on foot or horseback on appallingly bad roads. Inwardly, LaCroix shuddered, recalling just how bad the roads of 16th century France really were. Maybe the late 20th century wasn't so bad, after all. For a while he had enjoyed a stimulating on-air discussion with a learned Muslim on whether or not it started with a Christian army taking their Muslim opponents by surprise in Spain (once again he found himself wishing he could just tell them the truth - the reason he was so sure of such things was that he had been there!). LaCroix then endured two hours of idiotic suggestions for games to play on others on the coming day. Smiling in a way that would have had Nick, Janette and anyone else who knew him running for very deep cover, he suggested his listeners keep to the simple old traditions of pinning a paper fish to a friend's back - the French 'Poisson d'Avril' or April Fish: or else the Scottish variant of pinning a 'Kick Me' notice on their back on 2nd April. On the other hand, he mused, some things hadn't changed all that much in the last four centuries.... His broadcast over, LaCroix headed over to the loft, hoping that inspiration would strike him once there. ------ Natalie was enjoying a rare night off, and had plans of her own for April Fool's Day. Having gone shopping, she'd spent an hour in preparations in the kitchen, before casually just happening to drive past the precinct to confirm that a certain Caddy was parked there. Letting herself into the loft, she started to work on the fridge first, carefully removing every last bottle of cow's blood and then filling the fridge to capacity - with protein shakes. "Just wish I could see Nick's face when he finds it's either protein shakes or go hungry," she chuckled to herself, not realising she was being watched from the skylight above. A note taped inside the fridge door wishing Nick a Happy April Fool's Day, and she was done. As the elevator took her back down again, LaCroix slipped through the skylight, and headed straight for the fridge. "Protein shakes! Ugh! How appalling.... Hmmm.... You know, I think I really ought to give Nicholas a choice as to whether or not he drinks those disgusting mixtures or not.... And it's time to let him find out that I do know about all those hidey-holes around the rest of the warehouse where he keeps his 'stash' of emergency bovine!" A quick trip to the Raven and back for the necessary supplies, and LaCroix literally flew into action, racing around the various floors and rooms of the warehouse, replacing every last bottle of bovine with a selection of the Raven's finest vintages. Just as the first hint of light was about to appear in the sky, he toured the building doing a last minute reconnaissance. "Bowling alley - check. Swimming pool - done. Linen storage - ditto. Wine cellar - absolutely. Storage room for empties and used cork - okay. Room filled with bullet-ridden dusters and blood stained garments - done. Hmm... I really *must* ask Nick why he's bothering to keep such items. What's wrong with a decent bonfire? Indoor golf rink - check. Closets filled with duplicate work clothes, against being bullet ridden yet again - ditto. Loft - filled with doubtless yummy protein shakes. Just one last bottle to see to .... And a suitable message, of course!" LaCroix headed out of the skylight just as the Caddy was pulling up outside. Sensing his father nearby, Nick scoured the area briefly, before the coming sunrise drove him inside for cover. Busy wondering about LaCroix's presence, and getting ready for the day, making sure the blinds were closing, turning on the lights, checking his phone messages, and so on, Nick wasn't paying too much attention as he opened the fridge door and grabbed the first container that came to hand. He was about to yank the cork out with his teeth when it hit him that he wasn't holding a glass bottle at all, but rather a thermos flask. Hastily he reopened the fridge door and glanced inside, only to stop dead in his tracks. Shelf after shelf of plastic containers and thermos flasks met his gaze... Natalie's note caught his attention, and he pulled it off the door. "Hah-hah! Gotch! Happy April Fool's Day! Nat" he read, and despite his annoyance, he found himself grinning. Did Nat really think the contents of the fridge were his only supplies of bovine! He sat down at the computer, and checked the automated system to be sure the black-out blinds were all lowered around the rest of the building, and then headed for the first of several stashes around the warehouse. The first bottle he found made him stop in his tracks. What was the Raven's label doing on a bottle of cow's blood? A quick inspection confirmed his fears - no wonder he'd sensed LaCroix earlier. Hungry after his night's work, but determined not to give in and drink the human blood LaCroix had so lavishly left around the warehouse, he flew from secret hidey-hole to secluded stash in increasing desperation. One by one, his carefully placed supplies were found to have been switched by his father. Finally ending back in the loft, Nick remembered the half-bottle he'd left up in his bedroom. Dashing up the stairs, he dived for the bedside table - only to find two beribboned bottles of bloodwine, and a card, bearing LaCroix's unmistakeable script: "Poisson d'Avril, mon fils!" Sitting down dejectedly on the top stair, Nick looked from one note to the other, the phrase 'Stitch-up' ringing in his mind. Eventually, he gave in and decided he's just have to drink some of Natalie's infamous protein shakes for today. As he stood up, a shape in the shadows caught his eye - and his memory, and Nick cheerfully flew across the room to the beam where last year he'd hidden three bottles of bovine after yet another row with LaCroix. It was old and well past it's sell-by date, but right now he just didn't care! Chugging back on the stale blood, Nick wondered how on earth he was going to repay Natalie and LaCroix for this gag. Just as well he had another year to come up with something! Kezia Hepden keziahepden@hotmail.com