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I don't own anything FK, "Sweet Caroline," or any other trademarks. I made up the radio station. Caroline belongs to Caroline and I am SO glad she allowed me to treat her thusly! Permission to archive @ FKFanfic and the ftp site. All others, please ask Caroline first, then send me the URLs to nurture my ego!!!
This one's for... guess who! Caroline!!!
Comments, adulation, and cute bartenders to Piccolo_Kathy@hotmail.com.
Now for our feature presentation.
Caroline LaRoche stumbled through the door of her abode. Another day of wearing a stupid cow suit, of all things, in 100+ degree weather had left her feeling drained. Well, that and giving a pint to the company blood drive . Letting the door swing shut behind her, Caroline dropped her purse on the couch and headed for bed. Eyes half shut with exhaustion, Caroline didn't notice the man sitting perfectly still in the armchair watching her.
The brunette's body was tired and hot, but her mind was disturbingly active. Her thoughts flitted from her tyrannical boss to the upcoming FK "War" to what she would have for dinner to . Caroline uttered a moan of frustration and flicked on her clock radio. Perhaps music would help her sleep.
"This is Good Old Times 102.8 FM!"
Caroline sat up abruptly. This was NOT the station the radio had been set to before!! Wide-awake now with fear and annoyance, she looked around her room for any sign of an intruder.
SIGNS would be more like it. Practically everything in her room was different but the furniture!
"I musta been tired not to notice all this," muttered the young woman to the air. She noticed the scent of flowers -- "Hard to smell after the inside of that icky-icky suit!!" -- a split second before she saw them.
Roses -- red, white, yellow, pink, purple, virtually every color! -- were sitting in a vase on her bedside table. Carnations and daisies were hung from the walls in bouquets and baskets. Scented candles flickered in the corners -- "Fire hazard," she muttered, but couldn't help thinking of it as a good thing -- and boxes of fine chocolates and pretty trinkets were scattered liberally around the room.
Noticing a gorgeous piece of stationery at the foot of the bed, Caroline leaned over to pick it up. Simultaneously, the DJ on the radio (she hadn't turned it off from shock) stopped his cheerful talk and begun to play a song.
The strains of Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" filled the air that wasn't already laden with the scent of violet from the paper. Caroline recoiled in shock. This was so crazy!!! Then again, it was probably a fatigue-induced dream, so she might as well enjoy it! She leaned back over to read the message. Typed. She couldn't recognize the writing, then, but whom did she know that could/would do such a thing, anyway?
"Some roses are red
Pink or purple, too.
Look in the closet --
There's a gift for you."
"As if all of this isn't a gift!!" Caroline's mind told her this was a dream, but her heart told her it was a dream come true all things considered, she believed her heart. Caroline opened the closet.
In it hung a dress of crimson velvet and golden silk. The lady with the blue-gray eyes gasped in pleasant surprise. This was her dream dress!! The bodice was trimmed with gold braid and came to a point below her waist. The gold skirt rustled as she took the dress out of the closet. Behind it were matching shoes and even the appropriate undergarments, all in her size!! She shivered in pleasure. This was too much! Caroline sat down on her bed, hard. She took four deep breaths of the flower-scented air, then opened her eyes. The dress was still there.
The young woman had read (and written) enough stories to know what was expected of her. She changed into the beautiful dress. It fit perfectly. It was a dream, then. Nobody, but nobody knew her size!! Although, of course, she had used it to describe herself in a fantasy she was writing but who would know if they hadn't been on her computer?! The chills returned, this time in a negative way. She heard a noise. Somebody was in the house. Somehow, she wasn't as afraid as she'd expected. Perhaps it was the princess dress. Or perhaps there was more to her than she dared to give herself credit for.
The handle turned. The song stopped. The bedroom door opened slowly.
The DJ's voice came back on. "And that was 'Sweet Caroline' -- to Caroline, surprise, surprise, from"
The door opened, revealing the house's lone other occupant.
"Miklos," she breathed along with the DJ.
He smiled.
She smiled.
~~~~~~~~~~
The end.
