Stalked!

Author: atotaltotalfan

E-Mail: atotaltotalfan2001@yahoo.com

Rating: NC-17, for sex

Summary: This fan fic is a slightly creepier version of one I wrote
earlier entitled "The Stalker." In this version, the identity of
Lulu's stalker is finally revealed.

Author's Notes: Just a warning. Nick acts like a true S.O.B. as this
story begins. My thanks to Cecilia, for her suggestions and for not
thinking I'm crazy for writing this. Once I figured out who Lulu's
stalker really was I just had to get it down on paper!



Part 1


It was two in the morning and the air was warm and
still. Nick was awake in bed, lazy, his mind
wandering. He felt Lulu draped naked against his side,
her head on his abdomen and her hair fanning out,
tickling his belly.


It was an achingly pleasant sensation, having Lulu so close. Her
hair was silky against his skin, and seemed to tease him with each
breath she took. He couldn't remember when he felt such
heightened sensations.

He idly weaved a handful of her hair in his fingers and savored the
feel of it against him.

"Nick..." she muttered.

"Ummm..." Nick gently guided her further down his belly,
and she followed his lead, burying herself in
the soft tufts of hair on his groin. He moaned. Her tongue did a
languid dance along his skin, before inching toward, and then
finding, its mark. He felt it slide up the pulsing
vein on his erection. Oh god. He groaned again.

Suddenly, she stopped.

"Nick, I forgot to tell you. I got a call from the police today."

"Ummm." He played with her hair, pressing her to please continue...

She didn't. She lifted her face -- huh? he thought - and looked up at
him.

"No listen, Nick. You've gotta to hear this."

"Lulu, don't stop," he cooed, guiding her head back
down to him.

"Nick, wait a sec...You want to hear this."

He doubted it.

"Okay," Nick said, stroking her hair.

"It's about the stalker. The police think they have a
witness to the break in. I'm going to the station
Wednesday morning. Can you believe it? After all this
time..."

Nick became very still. "A witness? Who?"

"I don't know. They didn't want to talk over the
phone. Actually, the lieutenant -- I can't remember
his name -- asked me not to share the information with
anyone. But I don't think that includes you."

She smiled, then bent down and found his belly with
her tongue again, went about tasting him. He was hard,
as usual, but something was...off. He was tense.
Nick was never tense at moments like this.

"What's wrong Nick?"

"Nothing's wrong. Come here," he whispered.

He pulled her up to him, felt her nipples glide along
his skin and arched against her, urging her legs open so she could
straddle him. It felt sooo good, Lulu thought. But
something wasn't right. He was being almost brusque.

She started to ask him if something was wrong again, then felt his
fingers on her nipples, tweaking them and sending a current of
electricity through her body. He smothered his face between her
breasts, his mouth so hungry. She felt him grinding against her and
gasped when he suddenly lifted her slightly and then
pulled her down on him.

He was in her now, his hands clutching her waist as he drove her up
and down, up and down. Nick's pace was usually so
careful, a controlled crescendo that was agonizing but worth it.
But this was hard and fast and....absolutely insistent. It took her
breath away.

And then, almost as soon as it had begun, it was over.
Lulu heard Nick groan and groan again, felt him shudder as the orgasm
seared through his body.

He went silent and still.

Lulu leaned down from her perch to kiss his eyes, his lips. Nick
loved to kiss, but this time he turned his face from her slightly.
Was he avoiding her lips?

She pulled back and peered down at him.

He was looking at her bedside clock. The illuminated hands read 2:06.

Well, that hadn't taken long, she thought. And now, no
post-coital kisses. Not even any touching.

"Uh, Nick? Am I keeping you from something? Do you
have somewhere you need to be?" she asked archly. "That clock is a
little fast, if that helps."


Silence.


She climbed off him, confused, hurt and decidedly
ticked off now.

Why was he acting like this? What had just happened? One minute he
had her wrapped in his warmth and the world
was just the two of them, all intensity and pleasure. The next he was
....this. Mute. A stranger.

"Okay. What's the deal Nick?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, cutting her a look. "There is no deal."

"Right," she said, heaving a loud, disgusted sigh.

Nick got up and started pulling on his pants.

"You're leaving?" she asked, incredulous.

"I've got an early morning," he said. He finished
dressing quickly and efficiently, his back to her, and then headed out
the door, casting a very brief glance back. "I'll call."

Nick heard a soft thud against the door as he closed it behind him
-- the sound of a pillow being hurled. He'd walked
out of enough bedroom doors in his life to recognize the sound.

He paused for a second, then left by way of the kitchen door,
noticing that Lulu had forgotten to lock it again.
 
Part 2

By the time Nick made it home from Lulu's house, it was almost
three in the morning. He paused on his doorstep, hand on the door
knob.

How did I end up here? he thought. What the hell have I done?
I'm going back. I'm going to explain to her.

But how do you explain what you don't understand? Under
the best of circumstances, Nick knew he sucked when it came to talking
about....things. He sagged as he thought of all the times he'd
tried to use his words, tried to help the people in his life now.
Alvin, when he fell off the wagon; James, with his dead eyes
bent on revenge; his Dad, pissed off at Nick no matter what he did.

Lulu wouldn't even listen to him, especially after the way he'd acted
tonight.

Oh hell. What did it matter? She was going to hate him soon anyway.
At least she wouldn't see him hurt and humiliated. He'd rather she
just hate him.

Nick took a breath, opened the door and entered his dark and empty
home.

This was the most dangerous of times for Nick, when he was engulfed
by quiet, and the pain that accompanied it. This was why he worked
until he could drop at Fallin & Fallin, then worked some more at LSP.
It was why, when there was no more work, he'd gone to Kim's. Back when
there was a Kim.

God, did he hurt.

Cocaine and tequila would fix that, right away.

Yeah, cocaine and tequila would be nice tonight.

Nick rubbed his car keys. Just a quick drink, to numb the pain, help
him sleep.

He ran his hand through his hair, then took the staircase to his
bedroom two steps at a time, no detours allowed.

Nick fell into bed with a groan. He'd had a chance to do the right
thing. And in a split second, without thinking twice, he'd done the
wrong thing instead -- again and again.

He could have told Lulu the truth. Better she hear it from him than
the police. But no. Instead, he had pushed the thought out and used
Lulu to do it... driving into her like ... he didn't know what.

And then he'd treated Lulu like a one-night stand, bolting because he
had to get out of there before the questions started again.

"What's wrong Nick?" she would have asked in that soft voice he
loved.

Nothing, Lulu. Just everything.


He'd never get to sleep. Nick's gaze fell to one of his
undershirts hanging on his bedpost. Lulu liked
wearing it when she was there and he kept it on
the bedpost just for her.

Grabbing it, Nicked plopped back down and fingered the
fabric. It made him feel better for a moment, the same way
the red shirt had made him feel, way back when. That shirt had
belonged to Lulu, and for a while it occupied the same place of
honor on his bed post -- not that she knew it.

Red and impossibly small, it was the shirt Lulu was
wearing that night, so long ago now, she had first
kissed him. It was just a soft kiss on the cheek, but that didn't
matter. She looked so beautiful that night -- tiny and smooth and
with dark flashing eyes.

Nick remembered that she was mad at him that night.

What did I do to you? Nick had asked her.

Who do you care about? she wanted to know.

And he tried to answer, to tell her he was like her --
he had a house, and things and feelings. He just
couldn't make the words come out. So he got mad and
decided screw her, and clammed up. Then he felt her
lips on his skin, and it was like an ocean of warmness
washing over him.

Nick had no idea why he felt the way he did about that
kiss, or about Lulu. He just knew he'd never felt
that way before.

Things turned into a mess immediately, of course.
She had a boyfriend - just Nick's luck. But she said Brian
never looked at her the way Nick looked at her (What way?
Nick was still baffled by that).

But through all of it, Nick could never shake the
feeling of that first kiss. It came back to him him every time he
looked at the tiny red t-shirt, and he didn't feel so
alone.

Nick rubbed his eyes and tried to stop the memories. No such luck.
His mind drifted back to the cardboard box. It sat on his chest of
drawers for... how long? He didn't know really.

Heaped inside the box had been a whole bunch of Lulu's stuff.
There was a framed picture of her running some race.
Also some post its, embossed with the words "From the Desk of Louisa
Archer." A stapler. Just innocent, every day stuff. No big deal. His
favorite of all was a keyless key chain from something called "The
Center for Better Living Through Yoga."

That always made him smile. It was so Lulu.

He'd really enjoyed rummaging through the box. It didn't make him
feel as good as the red shirt, but somehow it had been comforting.
Like someone else shared his life, and he had the things -- a comb, a
little pot of pink lip stuff -- to prove it.

Nick remembered turning the items around in his hands, one by one,
and idly wondering if Lulu had even noticed that any of this junk
was missing yet.

As it turned out, she had.
 
Part 3


Midnight. Lulu sat in her bed, naked under the sheets, holding a
glass of red wine in her hand. She knew he'd show up about now,
and
sure enough, it wasn't long before she heard the back door
open and the sound of footsteps quietly making their
way up to her bedroom.

The door was already open, and Nick stood in it,
haltingly.

She gave him a frosty look, and took a
large sip of her wine. Nick could see from the bottle
at her bedside that this wasn't her first glass. A bad
sign, he was sure.

He ventured a few steps in, and stood there
uncomfortably, with his hands lodged in his pants
pockets and his head slightly bowed.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said,
lifting his eyes to meet hers.

"And what would that be, Nick?" She studied her
glass, feigning disinterest. She assumed he was about to make some
lame apology.

"It's about your stalker," Nick said. He paused. God,
this was hard. "The witness, whoever it is....there's
a good chance he or she will describe me."

Nick saw her freeze.

"What?"

"You heard me." he said softly. He watched her digest the
information, then saw her cringe.

"Nick, if this is some kind of weird Nick joke...."

"It's not a joke."

There was a long pause. All Lulu could do was stare.

"You were my stalker," she said quietly, to herself.
"Nick, how could you do that? God. That....that's
sick. That is so sick."

She dropped her wine glass and rolled off the bed,
wrapping the sheet around herself. She backed away,
swaying a little -- from the effects of the wine, Nick
sensed, and his words.

"It's not what you think," he said, but he saw the
look on her face: revulsion.

"Lulu, think back to all the things in that box. I
didn't steal them from you," he said. "You left them in my office.
Some of them you accidentally gave to me."

"What are you talking about?"

Nick tried to remain calm but he could feel himself
losing Lulu already.

"Remember the red shirt?"

He remembered that afternoon perfectly. Lulu had changed into her
clothes for yoga and was leaving LSP for class with the red
shirt in hand when she popped into his office, the
broom closet.

Of course, there was a tense exchange and Lulu stormed
out, leaving the shirt. He'd meant to return it but
never did. "You were mad at me and accidentally left it behind when
you left my office."

She looked at him blankly.

It all happened too long ago, Nick realized. She probably wouldn't
remember any of it, like the day she stalked into his LSP office,
gripping a stapler.

"Need staples?" He'd given her a small, supercilious
smile, guaranteed to grate.

Lulu launched into a tirade about the McHenry sisters,
and how he'd screwed her over. Then she slammed the
stapler on the desk in a fury and stormed out.

They fought again a few days later, in the LSP
elevator.
"I need the McHenry file. You were supposed
to bring it to my office this afternoon..." he told
her, peeved.

"Yeah, well. I'm busy. I had 15 cases today. I have 15
tomorrow. I have to find an apartment...."

"You're moving?"

She'd stared at him, astonished. "Jesus, Nick. You've
spent more hours than I can count telling me to leave
Brian. I've spent the last three weeks searching for
apartments -- and you didn't even notice, did you?"

"Well, you haven't been exactly friendly," he said,
defensive and hurt at the same time. She was refusing
to look at him. He came closer, so close she couldn't
avoid his gaze. "Lulu, why are you mad at me?" he had
asked, softly, bringing a finger up to trace her jaw
line.

She refused to meet his eyes. Instead she dropped her
box and then stooped down, rooting around through it.
"I'm not moving. Brian is. I'm just helping him," she
said quietly. She kept her eyes downcast. "Seems like
the least I can do. He's so...lost."

She seemed sad. Nick hated to see her sad...couldn't
stand it.

"It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong," Nick
said.

Lulu had looked up at him then, searching his face. Nick
realized she didn't like what she saw because she
was irked again.

"You believe that, don't you, Nick? You would." Nick
remembered her short, derisive laugh. "No-Fault Nick.
Nothing sticks to you. Unfortunately, we're not all
that lucky."

She pushed a photograph at him to hold while she continued searching
for the file; found the file, shoved that at him too and left the
elevator in a huff.

What did I do now, he thought? He had contemplated
going after her to demand an explanation and return the photograph.
Decided it was better to let her cool off. He'd give her the picture
later, when she wasn't mad at him.

Now Nick was watching Lulu nervously. She was so pale.

"You left all that stuff in my office and I ...just
never got around to returning it, any of it," he said.

Nick didn't mention that it had all ended up in his
bedroom, and remained there far too long. No point in bringing up
something he couldn't explain.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lulu said.
That was so long ago." She moved even farther away.

"I swear to you, I never took any of those things," Nick said.

"But why did you break into my house to return them?
Oh god. Those poor men. I took them to court -- you
took them to court -- to get restraining orders.
Humiliated them. How could you do that?"

Hysteria was rising in her voice, and Nick tried to
counter it with his most reasonable, lawyer-like
voice.

"Lulu, I didn't break into your house." Nick spoke
slowly. "The door was wide open. I just walked in. I searched
the place because I thought you had a stalker. That's what everyone
was saying...what you were saying. I left the box,
locked up and hung around outside, just making sure.
Suddenly, you show up at Kim's that night and I find
out you think the stuff in the box was left by your
stalker. Wrong.

"I can't believe this," she said. She was losing color
by the second. "I was so frightened all that time.
You let me be frightened, Nick."

Nick watched as she started to shake. Oh god, was she
going into shock? He tried to step toward her, but she retreated.

"Lulu, Lulu, listen. I couldn't tell you the truth
that night because you'd already called the police.
What if they hadn't believed me? What about my
probation? I couldn't tell you. I'm sorry."

"It doesn't make sense."

"It makes complete sense, Lulu."

"I can't think," she said. Her body looked limp all
of a sudden and her breath was coming in short,
shallow spurts.

"I...I can't breathe." Lulu was in full
panic now, gasping. "Nick! I can't breathe..."

She was hyperventilating. Sagging against the wall,
Lulu flailed her arms, looking for something to hold
onto before she buckled.

He closed the distance to her and grabbed her
waist, steadying her.

"Shhh, Lulu. It's okay. Listen to my voice. You're
hyperventilating." Nick pressed gently against her, covered
her with his body so his scent, his warmth, his breath
would fill her.

"Breathe in, like me," he whispered. "In....now out...." He slowed
his breathing and his heart rate, murmuring to her, willing her to be
calm.

"Slow...that's good, Lulu, that's good."

They stood pressed against the wall until Lulu's
breathing became quiet and rhythmic, in sync with
Nick's.

"Come on," Nick said. He lifted her gently and laid
her in bed. "Try to rest." Her color was starting to
return but she was still so weak she could barely move.

He pulled up a chair and sat close to her, watching
her, elbows on his knees and his face creased with
worry. How could he do this to someone he loved?

He should have just taken care of it back then.

But back then he didn't know what he knew now.
He hadn't watched Lulu as she rushed out of the house, late for
court and unaware she'd left the door open behind her -- wide
open, like it had been the day Nick returned the box.

She was just so distracted back then, dealing with a
failed marriage. And dealing with Nick, who tried to help but really
just distracted her even more. Because he never stopped
looking at her that way, the way Brian never had.

Nick needed to tell her what he'd long suspected: There never had
been a stalker -- just a badly rattled woman who kept leaving things
in his office, and a man who had secreted them all
away, as though they were precious jems.

Nick had finally done the right thing and returned all the stuff. But
he'd walked in a door Lulu left open herself and suddenly everyone
was convinced she had a stalker.

Once again, he'd tried to help and ended up making things worse. He
was such an ass.

"Nick," she murmured. Lulu's eyes were closed, but
he thought he saw her hand flutter slightly. Was she
searching for him? He needed to believe she was, and
softly stroked her fingers with his own.

"I'm right here," he whispered. "I'm not going
anywhere."

The End