A Game, Indeed ~ Jarvinia Posted August 2004 Written July 2004 Kind of a Conversion Day fic. Other notes/disclaimers at bottom. A Game, Indeed LaCroix sat up, wide awake, the alarm clock on the table beeping annoyingly at him. 12:28...almost half past noon...and his alarm was going off for.... He hadn't set his alarm, and it certainly should *not* be going off for any reason at this time of the day, particularly on *this* day. He went to turn the alarm off, only to notice a pale yellow sticky note on the table in front of the device. He quickly shut the racket off, picked up the note, and stared at it, somewhat perplexed by its presence. It was obviously Nicholas' handwriting. But the permanent marker spelled only one word, 'refrigerator.' Nicholas was playing games with him, it seemed. The question was would he play along? He sat there a moment longer before getting out of bed and slipping on his robe. What would it hurt? So, Nicholas had something in the refrigerator for him. He smiled faintly, hoping it was what he suspected. But then, what reason would Nicholas think of for giving him anything? Yes, Nicholas had given him presents in the past, but at the moment they were just barely on speaking terms. He certainly hadn't expected any gifts this year. Now tired and somewhat angry that Nicholas would interrupt his day like this, LaCroix went to the kitchen and walked up to the refrigerator. There, stuck on the black freezer door was a bright, sickening neon pink note with 'CERK' scribbled diagonally across it. It was immediately clear that Nicholas wanted to make this more complicated than it needed to be. LaCroix nearly went where the note said, but didn't, couldn't without minor difficulties. It was day and he seriously doubted Nicholas would send him there while the sun was still up. He spied another note, this one neon orange and stuck to a nearby cupboard, and he snatched it away. In small letters had been written, 'You will not need to leave the apartment.' Another note was stuck underneath it, the same colour, simply stating, 'Don't cheat, it won't work.' He stood there, mildly fuming, four post-it notes stuck to his hands. Nicholas was sending him on some kind of scavenger hunt. About now, he felt Nicholas would be a much better target of his hunting energies. Crumpling up the two from the cupboard and dropping them on the counter, he went back to the note from the freezer door. If he was not supposed to go to CERK, then.... He started for the living room and walked straight to the radio. And, indeed, here was yet another note, this one green and hiding just behind the radio, reading simply, 'Door.' This time, instead of crumpling it up, he shook his hand only for the note to remain stuck to his skin. He pulled the note off and stuck it on top of the first two. Then, turning around and facing the nearest door, he walked to his front door where he found a note stuck down by the floor. Exasperated that Nicholas was making this as difficult as possible, he bent and picked it up. 'Wrong door. Closet.' He found the next note, and the next, and then more than a half a dozen more until he was sent back to his bedroom with a note reading 'Dresser.' Entering, he spied a note stuck on the far wall, above his headboard, screaming at him in an orange-red. He walked over to it, pulled it off, and crumpled up the words 'You're cheating' and threw the ball of paper harmlessly at the wall and went where he was supposed to go. There, he again did as told, following the notes until he had several dozens of the things and couldn't find the next note. Nicholas had started hiding them after the first few, and he was beginning to wonder how many of the wretched things he would have to find. The latest one had read 'Desktop,' and he had already searched the top of his desk only to find nothing remotely useful. He'd even gone through the drawers in his desk in hope of finding another note. To think he was now actually *wanting* to find another one. He just wanted this over with. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling. Then, suddenly, his eyes caught on his laptop. *That* had a desktop. He flipped it open, hoping for the note to be stuck inside, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. After a second, he jabbed the power button, sat back, and waited. His eyes went wide as the 'welcome' screen popped up. On it was a single computer-generated post-it note, with the words "Almost there" written on it. Nicholas had gone too far, and he was about to stand up when his desktop background loaded and his jaw dropped. On it was an image of himself sleeping, and his old background--one he been particularly fond of, at that--was gone. Most of his icons had been altered with little mini sticky notes in hideous colours glaring back at him and scattered around the outer edge of the screen, framing the background. He scanned them, eventually finding an image file labelled 'open me.' He clicked on it, opening the file to find yet another image with yet another note. 'Kitchen.' He nearly left when he saw small, computer-generated words typed along the bottom edge of the note, telling him 'Turn this off, first.' LaCroix hissed at the screen. He'd consider not doing as instructed, but with his luck there would be some message nullifying the previous note. So, he shut the computer down, waiting for his certainly modified shutdown screen. And a few seconds later popped up another note. 'Table.' He stood and half flew out the room to the kitchen, glaring at the kitchen table for anything resembling a post-it. But, there was nothing. He circled the table, and just as he was about to overturn it he saw the note on the linoleum. 'Don't.' Several inches away was another telling him, 'Be careful,' and then another, 'Look under the table.' Nicholas knew what he was doing, taunting him to his very limit. In fact, his son was so close to that limit that he began to wonder if he had missed something concerning Nicholas. Other than, of course, Nicholas' obviously very successful intrusion into his apartment. He reached under the table, but his hands met nothing. He knelt on the ground and looked under the table, and to his faint surprise found what appeared to be a cardboard box duck-taped to the centre bottom of the table, another note stuck to it. He reached under and pulled the box from its hiding place with the sickening sound of detaching adhesive. Bringing it closer, he pulled the tape off the box, his eyes catching on the bits of.... His eyes burned gold. The tape had taken not only some of the box, but also some of the finish from the bottom of the table. He pulled the box closer, his anger settling slightly. He removed the tape from the box, his attention now fixed on the lime-green piece of paper still sticking to the box. 'Find me.' LaCroix closes his eyes. Find him. That's what Nicholas wanted him to do. After all of this. Find him. He felt for his son's presence, which was surprisingly close by. In fact.... He spun and flew to the front door, not even pausing to unlock the door, just yanking it open and breaking the lock. And there Nicholas stood, smiling at him, another box held under one arm. "You haven't killed me yet." "Would you like me to? I can arrange it, if you'd like?" Nicholas just smiled at him. And then extended a hand and.... Nicholas had stuck another one of his wretched notes to his chest. He glanced down to read the note, only to be asked if he'd 'like to play a game.' "Nicholas, this is tiring." "Have you opened the box?" "No, I have not opened it." "Then you should." LaCroix raised an eyebrow. "Why? What is in it?" "A...gift of sorts. You know what day today is." "Of course I know what day it is. It is a day I would much prefer resting." "Then let me by and go open your present." LaCroix stepped back, letting his son inside. He closed the door as best as it would go, then followed Nicholas to the kitchen, eyeing the other box as it was set down. "What is that?" "The rest of your present. Open the other first." LaCroix purposely reached forward, taking the box he'd retrieved from the bottom of the table and, hesitating slightly, pulled the top off. Inside was another box, the outside covered with supple black leather. His curiosity was definitely piqued. He pulled the box out of its cardboard covering and set it on the table. LaCroix then opened the hinged top to find a number of figurines inside, each with their own compartment. Roman figures and medieval figures. It didn't take long for him to realise it was a chess set. He looked up and watched as Nicholas opened the other box, revealing an oak and marble chessboard. "So?" LaCroix wasn't quite sure what to say. He was a little surprised. "I have a chess set, Nicholas. You gave me one many years ago, and you know I'm fond of it." "I know. But it's at my place." "It's what?" "At my place. I...took it a few nights ago. This way, we each have a set." LaCroix picked up one of the chess pieces, a Roman soldier, a General, to be precise. They were heavy, pewter by his guess. One set was plated with gold, the other silver. He carefully examined the first piece, and as he pulled several of the other Roman pieces out, he noticed they were quite accurate. "And...what do you think of it?" He looked up. Nicholas was worried he'd gone to far. And his son had indeed done just that. LaCroix calmly picked up the other king, which was...very familiar. It looked so much like his son. He then again picked up the Roman king piece, and this figure, too, was somewhat familiar. In fact, each piece had a different face, but the two kings were none other than himself and Nicholas. Just enough familiarity that he knew it had been done on purpose. He wondered where Nicholas had had them made.... "LaCroix?" He put the pieces back in the box and picked it up. Then, he gave his son an undefined smile, looked down to the note still stuck to his robe--it still asking if he'd like to play a game--and pulled it off. His lips turned up somewhat mischievously, and he pressed the note to Nicholas' forehead as he walked out of the room. "Bring the board, and I'll take your offer." LaCroix continued to smile to himself. A game, indeed. ~finis~ Nick and LaCroix aren't mine and no infringement is meant. As for the post-it/sticky notes...those also aren't mine. And as I didn't want to give it away, that's why this is down here.... I wanted to send LaCroix on a little scavenger hunt of a sort.... lol May not be archived without permission--but please ask, I just like knowing where things go. And thanks to amethystshells for fixing some of the typos and stuff. :) Send feedback (comments, questions, dark chocolate and other assorted goodies) to jarvinia@gmx.com Thanks for reading! Jarvinia jarvinia@gmx.com http://gryffonslair.com @>--,---`---