From: Jill Kirby Subject: DTD: Farewell, Old Friends Here's a silly, cynical response - all in good fun, of course... Comments, constructive criticism, or flames to jtkirby@mcs.com. DTD: Farewell, Old Friends by Jill Kirby The man who exited the elevator was familiar, although they hadn't exactly met. Even though Nick had known someone was coming, he hadn't thought it would be - apparently, they were trying to do some major damage control. "Nick. So good to see you." The man looked around the loft, noting the broken glass, raising an eyebrow at the bags of blood on the counter. "I can see you're a little - upset - about some of the changes going on around here." "Who the hell are you?" snarled Nick. "You know perfectly well who I am, Nick. You're just in denial - " The man extended his hand. "James Parriott." Nick ignored the outstretched hand, and looked deep into Parriott's eyes. "Janette and Schanke - they're not going anywhere..." He stopped, confused, when he realized that nothing was happening. No funky camera shots, no audio... "Missing the heartbeat sound?" Parriott chuckled. "I asked the sound guys specifically to leave that out of our meeting. After all, these changes aren't entirely my idea, either. And don't waste your energy trying to vamp out on me." He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that looked suspiciously like Nick's fangs. "I also held on to these - just in case." As Nick tried in vain to go into full vamp mode, Parriott wandered around the loft. "This looks even better in person. We added some really nice second season touches, don't you think?" When Nick didn't answer, Parriott turned around and watched as Nick tried to do something, vamp-ish - fly, change eye color... "Nick, stop hopping around. Let's sit down." He looked at his watch. "I only have a moment, and I do want to talk with you." Unwillingly, Nick sat on the far end of the sofa, since he didn't seem to be able to do anything else right now. "I'm sure you have questions." "Yeah, I have a few." Nick ticked them off on his fingers. "Cohen is leaving, Janette is leaving. Schanke is leaving..." "You're going to have a partner, though. A woman, Nick, and we all know how much you like women..." "I don't a new partner. I want the one I " "Had, Nick, had," said Parriott. "Schanke is moving on to greener pastures. He'll do just fine. Besides - a female partner will give us all sorts of new lingerie opportunities!" "You could always have used Janette," said Nick angrily. He wanted to rip this Parriott person's throat out - but apparently, that wasn't possible. "Yes. Janette." Parriott's eyes grew dreamy. "I going to miss her." He shook himself back to reality. "Whew - I almost went into a flashback there. You guys are catching. Anyway, Janette will be fine, too. Change isn't always easy..." "I don't mind change - not if the change makes But these changes could destroy everything." A horrible thought crossed Nick's mind. "Natalie!?" "Oh, Natalie coming back. Don't worry. That's just an extremely persistent rumor." He noted Nick's confused expression. "USA isn't obsessed with lingerie. They decided to maintain at least a semblance of continuity by keeping Nat and LaCroix." "USA? LaCroix?" "Sorry, Nick. He's coming back, too. Where else could we get the dramatic tension? The 2,000-plus years of flashback opportunities? It's not like we can just schlep Methos over here from 'Highlander' - now flashback potential for you." He shook his head regretfully. Nick rose and paced restlessly. He didn't understand half of what was going on. Wasn't there he could do? He looked desperately at the phone - maybe he should try calling again... Parriott followed him, using his most soothing tone of voice. "Nick, there's nothing you can do. I've asked that the letters and calls to USA be stopped." "But..." Nick's eyes filled with tears, though he tried to fight them. He couldn't help it - how else was he supposed to respond? His entire world was changing, he couldn't vamp out, and LaCroix was coming back for another season. Would the pain never ? "Nick, Nick, Nick," mused the man. "What I going to do with you? It's done - move on." He walked over to a mirror and smoothed his hair down. Smiling at himself in the glass, he checked to see if Nick was visible in the mirror. "Yep, there you are, reflecting away. I really do need to come up with a writer's bible one of these days." Nick shook off the familiar combination of frustration, confusion and sadness that made him want to smash something. "I can't just give up!" "You have to, Nick, at least this time. We must go on and make the best of what we still have. Don't lose your angst, of course!" He laughed heartily, and checked his watch again. "I'm afraid I need to leave. I have a meeting - the USA executives seem to think it's funny to schedule meetings with their 'vampire producer' at the crack of dawn." He looked at Nick, and there was real concern in his gaze. "Everything is going to be all right, Nick. Keep the faith." He was halfway to the elevator before he stopped and turned, rummaging in his pockets. "Almost forgot - here." He tossed the fangs to Nick, who caught them in midair. "You're going to be needing those a lot more in season three." The End?