Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own any of the
characters in this story, I'm just messing with their lives
a little bit. Any similarities to other stories or real
life happenings are purely unintentional / coincidental.
Permission is granted to archive on and the ftp
site. All other's please ask, I'd just like to keep track
of it.

This fanfic contains A LOT of WHAMs (Wistful Heart-wrenching
Agonizing Moment) but I assure you, all (or almost all) will
be right in the end.

This is a NNPacker story (heh, gee what a surprise) that is
very Nick-centric. As I said before, this is not a overly
happy story, so be warned. It IS NOT a continuation of my
When Darkness Falls series, just thought I should make that
clear. I wrote this one night when I was struck with the
question, what would Nick do if (you can fill this part in
as you read, I don't want to spoil it)? In the series
timeline, this story follows series canon until late in the
second season. It splits off around Be My Valentine and
assumes that LaCroix didn't interfere with Nick and Nat's
budding relationship.

All comments may be sent to Diane Harris at aria5 .
I hope that you enjoy it, I had fun writing it :)

REQUIEM FOR A KNIGHT

LACROIX REFLECTS

Life isn't fair is it, gentle reader? It is funny to think
of the universe as having a cruel sense of humor. But alas,
I assure you, it does. Most cruel. The paupers on the
street, the abandoned children, the murdered victims of
today's unkind world, they will all attest to the truth of
my statement.

It's simple really. You don't always get what you want. In
fact, getting what you want should be considered a delicacy
of fine cuisine, to be tasted and relished when one has the
rare chance to sample it. Alas, my poor Nicholas learned
that lesson too late.

He allowed himself to love. Love... An infectious thing,
an awful disease of the heart that is bound to attack almost
any mortal. How it rips at the heart and grates the soul.
I learned to spare such feeling for only special occasions.
But Nicholas gave it freely, and he paid a terrible price.

And so observe, dear reader, this sad tale of woe, more so
than Juliet and her Romeo...

*****

THE TALE BEGINS

The alarm woke him up. Monotonous, ringing, shrill, and
most annoying it was... But it reminded him to get up. In
fact, if it weren't for that wretched noise, he might never
get out of bed. It was too hard.

Not yet opening his eyes to the harsh light, he groaned and
slapped blindly at the merciless contraption. It fell to
the floor with a thump, shutting itself off in the process.
Silence. Blessed silence. He sighed in relief and lay
there quietly breathing with his hands over his eyes, trying
to convince himself to just get up and get it over with. He
didn't want to... He knew that the moment he opened his
eyes he would be greeted with _something_ that reminded him
of her.

Everything reminded him of _her_. Her. Natalie. But it
didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now... He shrugged his
hands off his face and took a deep breath, cleansing his
stale lungs. He would get up and force himself to face
another day.

Nick opened his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he sat up
to embrace the land of the living. Blinking rapidly, he
felt his eyes water while they attempted to adjust to the
bright sunlight streaming in through his windows and landing
in glorious patches on the floor. His body had still not
adapted to his new lifestyle, even after so many months. He
groaned as he stretched his aching muscles and attempted to
rub the sleep away from his eyes with his hands. Yawning
widely, he brushed his mop of unruly blond hair away from
his face with a swipe of his right hand. God, he was so
tired. So very tired... He just wanted to go back to sleep
and never wake up. At least that would end his eternal
pain.

A tiny, wretched sob escaped his lips as small soft tears
began to stream down his cheeks. Nick quickly brushed them
from his eyes, trying to deny that they were there. But
they were real. His grief... well that was real too.
Crying, it seemed, had become part of his morning ritual.

He pushed himself off his bed forcibly, the muscles in his
arms shaking slightly with the effort. He had really
allowed himself to get out of shape... He'd never had to
exercise before. Perhaps he could simply allow himself to
waste away into nothing... Nick cursed lightly as he bent
over with a groan and pulled on a wrinkled, dirty pair of
jeans that he had left on the floor the night before, and a
slightly unkempt black shirt.

He tried _so_ desperately hard to forget her. But day in
and day out, his thoughts were of her, and he knew it was
killing him. The nightmares had practically made him an
insomniac, exhausting his energy to dangerously low levels,
but even worse was the food. His newly reactivated
digestive system was very finicky. Half the time he simply
didn't bother to eat. At least he didn't get sick when he
did that... But Schanke had begun to notice that he was
losing weight and his coworkers had tried to get him to seek
help.

He didn't. He knew that whatever some silly YUPPIE
psychiatrist thought he could do to help him would be as far
from helpful as anything on this earth could get. How could
a thirty-something individual even _begin_ to understand
Nick's eight hundred years of pain? When he had met Nat
he'd been on a very fine edge, and losing her had been the
final straw, the event that dropped him into the pit of
despair he'd been so desperately running from since 1228.
How could a psychiatrist understand that? It was simple.
They couldn't.

As he finished dressing and wandered blindly into the
bathroom, he sighed again. A hopeless, lifeless exhalation
of breath. What day was it? He didn't know. He never
seemed to know anymore, what was the point? With a squint,
he saw from his digital wristwatch that it was April 17th.
Three whole months. Had it been that long already?

FLASHBACK - THREE MONTHS PREVIOUS

"Nick, are you all right?" Nat questioned, her voice
betraying her concern as they walked through the busy
airport. It was dawn, and the sun was already peaking out
from behind the horizon like a child playing hide and seek.
If she didn't get on the plane soon, Nick would fry since he
was so intent on waiting to see her off... She wondered if
he realized just how much he was worrying her by threatening
to do a wonderful rendition of a flaming match head. He
probably didn't. He could be so incredibly dense...

"Yeah, Nat. I'm fine. I just wish you didn't have to
go..." he said, dejectedly as he looked softly into her
eyes. He so desperately wanted to accompany her to Quebec
for the seminar on DNA splicing. _Anything_ to spend more
time with her. He would have sat through the most boring
coroners' seminar on the planet if it meant he could spend
more time with her. But he couldn't go this time. There
were no planes leaving after dark that had space left, and
there just simply hadn't been enough notice for him to pull
any strings.

"Well, you'll have more to look forward to when I get back!"
she said suggestively, drawing him into a passionate kiss.

When he felt her steady arms wrapped around his broad
shoulders and her moist lips covering his own, Nick groaned
in pleasure, wondering what on earth he had ever done to
deserve such a beautiful, wonderful woman. He broke from
the kiss gently and looked deeply into her eyes. "Is that
a promise?" he asked, hopefully, his eyes sparkling with a
boyish confidence.

She smiled. "Ooooooh yes," she said as she patted his lips
with her index finger for emphasis. "I'm foreseeing that
I'll be so distraught by the lack of your company that by
the time I get back I'll be desperate," she said sincerely,
though her eyes grew more and more worried as she glanced at
the rising sun through the expansive glass windows of the
large terminal. Nick really needed to find cover. Now.

Nick paid her obvious worry no mind as he smiled at her with
a mischievous look in his eyes. "I'll _definitely_ hold you
to that, Natalie Lambert!"

She leaned in, her hands running through his mass of unruly
blond curls, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'm
counting on it. Now skat! Before you become a charcoal
briquette!" She forcefully spun him around and pushed him
away with a playful shove.

Nick glanced back and grinned lopsidedly, his eyes taking on
a guilty puppy look. "Ok Nat, I can take the hint. Bye!"
he said as headed back in the direction that they had come
from. He was just in time too. The sunlight was starting to
burn as it kissed his back, but luckily the dark haven of the
unwindowed section was not far. He would have to stay in the
underground portion of the airport for the day.

He remembered hearing her say "Goodbye!", waving frantically
as he walked down the ramp and she disappeared from his
view...

THE PRESENT

Goodbye. If only he had known it would be a permanent one
and not the prelude to a sweet reunion he had originally
thought it would be. He let out a soft, muffled sob. It
was all just wishful thinking.

That was the last he ever saw of her. Those were the last
words he had spoken to her. Nat was _dead_. The thought
turned his insides cold as it echoed through his head.
Dead. The plane had never landed in Quebec... Nick
squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the sound of the plane
exploding on the runway again. It echoed through his head
like a thundershower of jackhammers and he covered his ears
as if it would drown out what his mind replayed for him,
over and over again. He screamed in frustration as it
persisted until finally, it was silent.

"Oh Nat," he said with a choked sob, his breath coming in
short ragged gasps. "Why did you have to get on that
plane?" He put his face to in his hands, leaning his hips
heavily on the black porcelain sink. It was almost
laughable how cruel life could be. He had always pictured
himself to be the one leaving Nat, forced to leave when his
immortality made it too hard for him to stay.

It had always broken his heart to think of it, but even as
he had pursued a relationship with her, the back of his mind
was reminding him that it would have to happen eventually.
It always did. But that's not what fate had decided for him
and his damned quest for mortality. It seemed intent to
punish him from afar, finally answering his eight-hundred-
year-old prayer only to strip away his reason for wanting
it...

He splashed cold water from the sink into his face in hopes
that it would wash away his grief. It didn't. As usual,
the shock of cold only took away the numbness that his
sleepiness provided him and replaced it with the shaky
unsettled feeling that his degraded state of health provided
for him.

Nick looked in the mirror with a stony glare, barely caring
how terrible his twin on the other side of the glass looked.
He was unshaven, a generous amount of stubble scattered
about his face. His bloodshot eyes and gaunt, haggardly
pale face also did nothing but compliment his unhealthy
appearance. He curled his lip up in a look of self-disgust.

It wasn't fair. Why the Hell was he here? Natalie had had
her whole life ahead of her and he had more than eight
lifetimes behind him. Yet, he had been spared. And she
hadn't. What kind of cruel game did the universe play? It
just wasn't fair.

He absently grabbed his toothbrush out of its holder with
one hand and the half-used tube of toothpaste from the side
of the sink with the other. Providing his toothbrush with a
generous blob of toothpaste, he continued to stare at his
reflection. His reflection. He narrowed his eyes. It
never failed now. It was always there. Always there to
remind him just how terrible he looked. He didn't need to
die to go to Hell, he was already there.

As he brushed his teeth, he turned to look out the paned
window at the magnificent blue sky and glaring sun. When he
saw the giant golden circle alight in the sky, he paused
with his toothbrush, simply staring at it in wonder. It was
warm on his face and he closed his eyes as he let it wash
over him, setting fire to his golden locks with brilliant
splashes of light.

The light brought tears to his eyes, but not from physical
pain. A sob erupted outward from the pit of his chest like
a geyser. He'd never gotten to see Nat in the sun. God,
how he'd wanted to see her wonderful brown curls alight in
the rays that up until three months ago would have meant his
most painful death. Nearly choking on his toothpaste when
another sob wracked his body, Nick quickly turned around and
spit into the sink. He watched the pasty liquid trail in
slow, curving, oozing paths towards the drain of the sink.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but disobeying salty tears
continued to stream down his cheek. He had loved her so
much. So very much. She had been his soul, his reason for
living. When she had died... it was as if his own unbeating
heart had been ripped from his chest. That was when fate
had played it's cruelest joke ever. He had originally
thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but as he had
stood there giving Nat's eulogy to a crowd of teary eyed
friends, family, and coworkers, his heart began to beat
after virtually eight-hundred years of silence.

FLASHBACK - THREE MONTHS PREVIOUS

Nick walked somberly up towards the front of the church,
ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach brought on by the
religious symbols that littered the aisles, walls, and just
about everything else. He would not allow his vampiric
weaknesses to stop him from being there for Nat... Forcing
his fear of the religious symbols down into the pit of his
being he glanced around at the church. The small building
was alight with thousands of glowing candles, their light
reflecting off the stained glass windows like sunrays
through the facets of a crystal.

As per his request, they had decided to hold the funeral in
the evening so that he would not have to risk the sunlight.
It really was a lovely evening service. Natalie would've
thought it beautiful, exactly as she would've wanted it.
He avoided looking at the open, lacey white casket as he
approached the pulpit. Luckily, due to her position on the
plane, her body had been recovered in one, fairly intact
piece, which was more than most of the grieving families
from the crash were given. But he knew that if he were to
look and see her body lying there cold and lifeless amongst
the white satin in the interior of the coffin, he'd lose it
for certain.

Closing his eyes to gain his composure, he situated himself
where the minister had just been as he had lead a prayer.
Clearing his throat softly, he looked out over the crowd of
people. They were silent, waiting for him to speak. He saw
Schanke looking at him sincerely from the back of church
with a look of encouragement in his eyes and he felt
compelled to being speaking, but for some reason he could
not find his voice. It was as if it had been lost in the
void of his own grief. That was when Nick's vision started
to fail as tears watered in his eyes and threatened to begin
their trek down his pale cheeks..

Nick closed his eyes, not letting the tears fall. While his
body was desperate to express his sadness, he simply
couldn't allow it. If he were to cry here, in public,
people would surely notice the red blood tears. He gulped,
envisioning the horrified reactions he would receive if that
were to happen. He would have to save his grief for Nat for
later, when he was alone.

He began his short prepared speech quietly, barely trusting
his own voice to function. "Nat... Nat was a wonderful
friend to all of us. What can I say about her?" he said,
his prepared speech suddenly becoming lost somewhere in the
dark corners of his mind. He choked on a sob, he couldn't
do this... But he forced himself to continue, glazing his
eyes over and looking at the crowd, but not really looking.
"She was kind to everyone, her cheerful presence always
brightened the room. Generous, never selfish, and always
thinking of others before herself, she found a place in each
and every one of our hearts..." he ended his sentence in a
pained gasp.

Pausing his speech momentarily, Nick felt a lump forming in
his throat. The queasiness in his stomach was increasing to
a rather uncomfortable level, but he continued to ignore it.
He had to do this for _her_. Looking at the crowd, he
noticed that people were beginning to whisper during his
long pause. He even overheard someone wondering aloud if
Nick was going to make it through his speech.

Nick knew that he couldn't stay up there in the pulpit much
longer, so he tried to wrap up much sooner than he had
planned. He only hoped that Nat would understand. "We will
miss her very much, I know how much everyone loved her..."
his voice was running out of volume as he continued onward,
"God knows that I loved her more than my own life..." his
voice finally died in a tiny, heart-wrenching gasp as he
sobbed aloud.

That was when it happened. He felt his chest constrict and
there was a blast of pain that started in his chest and
seeped outward towards the tips of his fingers and toes.
Shaking with fear, he squeezed his eyes shut as waves of
nausea roller-coasted through his system. Feeling like he
had been hit by a semi, he threw his torso forward with a
grunt and gripped the sides of the pulpit with shaky, white-
knuckled hands. He swallowed thickly. Hearing the familiar
loud racing 'thump-thump' of a beating human heart in his
ears, he grew alarmed that he had allowed the vampire to be
released.

He finally dared to open his eyes, confident that they were
not the glowing amber of his beastly counterpart. Glancing
up at the crowd of mourners, he saw only looks of concern,
not ones of fear. That was when he figured out that it was
his own heart thumping in his ears. It was gone. The
vampire was completely gone. Nick let out a startled gasp,
breathing heavily as he tried to gain his equilibrium. It
was a failed effort. He clutched his sides, feeling as if
they were about to burst.

In a pained, wavering voice, he managed to say, "I'm sorry,
I can't continue..." before he collapsed to the ground in a
dead faint.

THE PRESENT

Although the crowd had merely thought him to be sick with
grief, he knew better. He had spent the entire night
miserably regurgitating the blood he had drank for his last
few meals, sobbing with clear salty tears in-between trips
to the bathroom.

Schanke had stayed with him that night, trying to comfort
him like any friend would feel obligated to, but Nick
hadn't allowed himself to be consoled. He deserved to be
miserable. God had given him a miracle when he could have
better used it with Nat. But who was he to question God?
Perhaps instead of a miracle, this newfound mortality was
intended to be punishment. If that _was_ the purpose, then
it had certainly succeeded.

Nick sighed, his breath catching in his lungs when he felt
the tears threaten to fall again. Sinking to the floor, he
sobbed again, shaking as he collapsed. He let out an
anguished cry as he crumpled onto the floor with his knees
bent and his arms out in front of him almost as if he were
praying. He couldn't go on like this! This was no way to
live. Not even for him. He preferred the thought of
burning eternally in Hell for his countless sins over the
pain of Nat's death.

He sat up on the cold tile floor, his eyes squeezed shut.
"Nat, why did you have to go? I miss you Nat..." he moaned
softly as he continued to tremble violently, his body
wracked with uncontrollable sobs. Through his tears, he
prayed to God for an end. Any end.

The phone rang, interrupting his private Hell. He didn't
care. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Never again. He
wanted to lock himself away in his loft and never come out,
to waste away into nothing. What was the point of going to
work? It's not like he was doing the world any good by
showing up at work and doing nothing but mope...

For some reason though, his legs forced him up off the floor
and over to the cordless black phone by his bed. Picking up
the damned noisy thing before it had a chance to intrude
upon the cold silence of the loft once more, he answered
with a shaky, "Hello?"

It was Schanke on the other end. "Nick? You sound
terrible..." his partner's voice said, filled with concern.

Nick grew cold as he listened to his partner. He didn't
deserve such concern. "Well thank you so much for your
sympathy, Schanke," Nick said, his voice flat and hopeless.
He didn't want sympathy. He wanted death.

There was silence on the other end of the line as Schanke
was apparently formulating what to say. "Nick, you can't
keep acting like this. She's gone, you've got to get on
with your life," Schanke suggested, hesitantly. He had
said it many times before and had always gotten the same
reaction.

Nick's eyes opened wide as he stared off at some unknown
point in the loft. The wall in front of him blurred as he
allowed his eyes to lose focus. "You know I can't,
Schanke..." he said, the grief cutting into his tone like a
razorblade. "I can't," he added in a hoarse whisper.

"Nick..." Schanke began with an annoyed tone that simply
screamed, 'I can't believe you're doing this _again_'.

Nick cut him off. "Listen, Schanke. Book me off, ok? I
don't think I can come in today..." he said, a sob breaking
his speech off at the end. He knew that Schanke would
comply even if he didn't agree with what Nick was doing.
He had always done so in the past.

"Yeah sure, Nick. See you later..." Schanke said, a
hopelessness entering his voice to compliment Nick's grief.
It sounded almost like Schanke was finally giving up on him,
and that was just as well.

Nick didn't bother to say goodbye, placing the phone back
on the hook softly. It was just too goddamned hard. Why
did it have to be so hard? He growled in sudden rage,
throwing the phone across the room with a mighty heave. It
smashed against the wall with a broken disjointed beep and
fell to the floor with a loud, echoing thump. Surprisingly,
it was still in one piece after its fall. His throw had
lacked his former vampiric strength, otherwise it would've
been smashed to pieces.

He approached the window in his bedroom with a look of
anger. "Why did you have to do this to me? You could've
changed me back earlier!" he shouted at the bright blue sky
angrily, shaking his fists at his unseen oppressor. The
sun merely showered more bright rays upon his withered
figure, taunting him with its warm cheerfulness.

"I can't do this anymore... I just can't..." he sobbed
quietly as he lowered his head to stare at the floor. It
just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!

He turned his head and looked at the drawer situated in his
nightstand by his bed. Maybe this time he could go through
with it... He approached the wooden drawer as it stared at
him, daring him, begging him to come closer and open it.

With a light tug, Nick pulled the drawer towards him and
picked up the deadly object in it with an almost holy
reverence. He rubbed it against his cheek slowly as if it
were his lover, inhaling the acrid scent of gunpowder
emanating from its muzzle. A loud click echoed through the
loft and bounced off the walls as he cocked it. He put the
Beretta 9mm to his temple, his finger frozen on the trigger,
knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip on the
stock.

Closing his eyes, he applied a slight pressure to the
trigger, feeling the muzzle of the gun dig into him as he
jammed it harder into the side of his forehead. His hand
shook and his body tensed as he let out a soft moan. All he
had to do was pull the trigger a little harder and his pain
would be over. He stood there shaking. He was so ready...
But he couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Nick lowered the
weapon from his head, letting out a breath he hadn't known
he was holding. He put the gun down softly on his bed.

He would visit Nat's grave and talk to her for awhile.
Maybe then he would be able to do it. He so desperately
wanted to, but he had lacked the courage to go through with
it yet again. "God, help me!" he cried with an anguished
sob as he walked down the stairs and swiftly out the door.

He hadn't even thought to realize someone might be listening
to his plea...

*****

Natalie arrived with a brilliant flash of light into the
loft. The air crackled with unseen power as she
materialized, but she paid it no mind. She looked around to
confirm she'd been dropped at the correct destination. She
had been. Her heart did a little flutter when she saw the
loft, empty and bleak like it usually was, although she
noticed that it had become a bit more untidy since she had
last seen it. She didn't dwell on that, however. It had
been so long since she had seen him! Her jubilance nearly
lifted her off the ground. She smiled, her pearly white
teeth displayed quite clearly. The smile, however, was
quickly turned to a worried frown.

"God, help me!" Natalie's heart wrenched in her chest when
she heard Nick's hopeless cry cut through the air like a
knife. So that's why They had sent her back... She'd been
duly warned that Nick was not quite himself, and she should
have known Nick would not take her loss lightly, but nothing
prepared her for what she saw next.

Her eyes widened when she saw Nick stumbling down the
staircase, unshaven and generally unwell looking. "Oh,
Nick!" she cried in alarm, her hands flying to her cheeks in
shock.

He didn't hear her. That was to be expected though. They
had told her that her clients wouldn't be able to see or
hear her.

When he stepped into the elevator, she followed him quickly.
Looking at his face, she could still see traces of the
angelic innocence that had been there on the last day she
had seen him, but his grief had overpowered it for the most
part. His hair was beyond repair, completely unkempt, and
the rest of him wasn't all that well taken care of either.

He was emaciated and haggard, and it broke her heart to see
that her death had taken such a terrible toll on him. She
watched him as he stood there with his eyes shut as if in
pain, his chaotic breathing indicating that he was valiantly
trying not to cry. Finally he stilled, gaining some
composure, and she approached him hesitantly.

She touched the still wet tear tracks that trailed down his
cheek with a light sweep of her fingernail. God, how she
just wanted to sweep him away in her arms and never let
anything hurt him again... Her lip trembled. This was all
her fault! But she couldn't worry about that now, she had
been sent to help him. She placed the palm of her hand on
the flat of his chest. "Nick... it's all right. You'll be
ok," she said softly whispering, her voice floating through
the air in a gentle gust.

He inhaled stiffly and looked around. A small sound escaped
his lips, somewhat like a strangled gasp, yet not. Had he
heard her? She didn't think so. When he began to tremble,
she grabbed him in an ethereal embrace, her arms wrapping
around his wide frame with a ferocity all their own, but her
action had the desired effect. Without even knowing that
she was there, he seemed to be calming down. She touched
her softly glowing hand to his pale face and he closed his
eyes with a relaxed sigh. He leaned his weight back against
the elevator wall and smiled. He looked so wonderful when
he smiled. So at peace. "Oh Nat... that feels so good!"

Nat froze, her heart stopping in her chest. Had he felt
her? What? They told her that he wouldn't be able to do
that... They had _told_ her! Nick's eyes shot open and
looked straight at her with a penetrating gaze. No,
straight through her, she corrected. His sad, ice-blue eyes
were indeed not looking at her. He shook his head, his face
painted with a look of disbelief. "What's _wrong_ with
me!" he questioned himself in a hoarse, strangled whisper,
not knowing that Natalie was listening. His piercing eyes
reflected his pain as his grief returned. His eyes had
always been so expressive...

Nat looked at him curiously. That had been really weird.
They had _told_ her that under no circumstances had clients
ever felt their presence directly, only subconsciously.
Maybe it was because he was a vampire... Her scientific
mind raced through a dozed different possibilities, but she
had no time to ponder the event further, because the lift
had stopped.

Nick yanked the door to the lift open, his face showing
strain at the physical act, and he stepped out quickly. He
exited through the outer door and walked with no hesitation
out into the bright sun. "Nick, no!" she cried in alarm.
He wasn't supposed to join her yet! He still had a little
while. He still had something very important left to do...
But she was astonished to see that he wasn't showing any
signs of pain whatsoever. She glanced around frantically,
and then rested her eyes back on Nick as she chased after
his quickly departing form.

Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Nick was mortal. He
was a living, breathing, human being. Just like he'd always
wanted. She almost felt like she'd been punched in the
stomach. All that hard work to find him a cure, and then he
just spontaneously became mortal after she died. She shook
her head, angry at herself for being so selfish. He had
finally done it... She felt like laughing and crying at the
same time. He had finally gotten what he wanted, and now
his grief was taking it away from him in little bits and
pieces. "God, Nick, what have I done to you?" she asked in
a pained whisper as his silently grieving form proceeded down
the street.

She had pictured him spending his days in the glorious sun
with her, happy and carefree. Now he wasn't even taking the
time to enjoy the wonderful rays he had missed for the
better part of eight-hundred years. And it was all because
of her. Because of _her_. Her fault.

"I'm so sorry, Nick..." she said softly as she trailed
behind him, stepping lightly around various pedestrians.

As before, he didn't hear her.

*****

The cemetery was quiet. Deathly quiet. It always was,
except for the chirping of the birds and the occasional
visitor paying his respects. The beautifully flowered
plots, dotted with the soft pastels and bright flashes of
color from the gorgeous blooms gave way to huge weeping
trees that stood watch over the magnificent resting place.
Hundreds, thousands of people had found their final homes
here amongst the deep green manicured lawns. But Nick was
concerned with one of the land's permanent residents in
particular.

Nick sat heavily in front of her tombstone. He leaned
forward and rested his head on the cold stone, allowing
the coolness of it to sink into his warm, pale skin. "Hi,
Nat..." he said quietly as he softly kissed the black stone
and sat back up.

He felt odd coming here, even though he did it almost every
other day. It was strange, but it almost seemed to him like
coming here was admitting that she was truly dead, and not
just moved on to the next life. He absolutely _refused_ to
think about the possibility that this was all there was,
despite the feelings his visits here conjured. He sighed.
His hopes of ever joining her were not well founded... He
was destined for purgatory. But... he just had to come
here.

This was all he had left of her, aside from the occasional
momento and faded picture. It was strange, but he felt
closer to her when he visited her burial site. He let out
a muffled sigh, wondering how she was and if she was happy.
Although he felt guilty for thinking it, he wondered if she
missed him as much as he missed her. He dreaded to think
that she might not even care about him anymore...
Shivering at the thought, he stared at the stone marker of
her resting place. Natalie Lambert. Beloved Friend. Or at
least that's what it said. He knew she was so much more
than that... It made him feel cold inside to see it, so
very cold... so very dead.

He merely sat on top of the plot with his knees pulled to
his chest in silence, sobbing softly, completely oblivious
to the passing of time. A cool breeze ruffled his already
mussed hair as it blew through, but he paid it no mind.
Nick took in a deep breath and let out a sigh, letting the
fresh air cleanse his tortured soul. Why did things have to
be so hard?

"Nat, I really miss you," he said sadly to no one in
particular. His stomach grew queasy as his mind again
replayed that last time he had seen her. That was a memory
that surfaced all to much and it was difficult to bear.
Every time he relived it he felt like a piece of his soul
had been ripped away. Sighing heavily, he put his forehead
to his knees and took several deep breaths. The nausea
passed, but his grief did not.

He gripped himself in a tight hug, trying to deny the
coldness that was setting into his frame and crashing down
around him like a waterfall. "I love you..." he said
desperately, his voice fading away into nothing as a sob
ripped through his body and tore him to pieces. He saw an
image of her face, projected by his mind before his eyes,
fade away into blackness. Reaching out with his hand, his
outstretched fingers met only air. He let the tears fall
once again, shaking violently as he lay down on top of the
damp grass that covered her plot.

Not caring about the wetness of the grass seeping into his
jeans, he laid there with the side of his face in the dirt.
This was as close as he'd ever get to her now... As close
as he'd _ever_ get. He closed his eyes and lay still for a
moment, absorbing the smells and the sounds around him.

Strangely, he felt soothed as he lay there, almost as if
someone were massaging his back in slow smooth circles. He
groaned in pleasure as he felt his sadness lift from his
chest and for the first time in weeks he felt like the one-
hundred-ton weight had been removed from its crushing
position on his chest.

He heard a faint tingling of bells in the background, but
oddly he couldn't see any wind chimes nearby. Still, the
mystical sound continued to seep through the air, even with
the apparent lack of a source. Strange... "Nick, don't
worry, it'll be all right. You're fine..." the voice
floated over the air like a light mist. It sounded so
familiar... yet... distant somehow... Sitting up sharply,
he felt the soothing presence brush his face softly and he
quickly forgot about his previous puzzlement.

Whatever was happening to him felt absolutely wonderful.
He leaned back and sighed as the tension in his muscles was
slowly relieved. It was like a touch from an angel... a
cool breeze blowing over his skin without any movement of
air. It felt like... like...

FLASHBACK - FOUR MONTHS PREVIOUS

"Oh, Nat! That feels wonderful!" he groaned as she lightly
massaged the tension away from his strained muscles. Her
hands were like feathers, brushing softly over the bare skin
of his shoulders, and it felt positively wonderful. Nick
let his head fall back against the back of the couch,
completely giving in to the relaxing sensations her
practiced hands were generating.

Natalie smiled, happy that she was able to help him. Nick
had been so tense... The case that he had been working on
had really gotten to him. She had seen him struggle to keep
the vampire at bay as he had approached the terrible scene
of bloodbath and mayhem, and he had had to leave the scene
early when he couldn't contain his bloodlust any longer.
Although he had said he was fine as he had walked off, she
had seen a glint of his fangs and knew he was lying. It was
so incredibly typical of him, denying that anything was
wrong for what he thought was her benefit.

Sighing, she finished working on his shoulders and attempted
to move to his back. "Lie down, Nick," Nat commanded his
relaxed figure as she gestured for him to stretch himself
out face-down on his black leather sofa. He looked at her
with some level of nervousness, but complied almost
instantly. It still amazed her, the level of trust he put
in her was astounding. He was very loath to open up to
anyone, _especially_ to mortals. And here he was, letting
her massage his half-naked body. She smiled wickedly at the
thought.

Nick let her do that for the better part of an hour, and by
the end of that time, he was so relaxed he was comparable to
Jell-O. When she finished her ministrations, his eyes were
closed and his breathing was even. For all intents and
purposes, he appeared to be asleep.

Nat laughed softly as she stared at the alabaster smooth
skin of his back in awe. He looked like a sleeping angel,
innocent and unwise about the ways of the world. How ironic
that he was a vampire, a creature that embraced the night
and the sins that came with it. However, she simply refused
to believe as he did that he had been shunned by God. A man
with so gentle a heart could never be denied by Him no
matter what terrible things he had done. At least... she
desperately hoped not.

She went and grabbed a blanket from the closet. Covering
his cold, still form with the soft, blue fleecy material,
she bent down and kissed him on the cheek lightly. As she
grabbed her purse and keys to leave, she heard a faint
"Thanks, Nat..." mumbled sleepily from the prone form on the
couch.

So, she smiled, he had been awake. "Sleep well, Nick," she
called softly as she exited via the small lift.

THE PRESENT

Nick stiffened as the memory washed over his mind, and he
felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Nat?"
he called out hesitantly. There was no answer. He felt
like his small semblance of a life was tumbling down around
him like an avalanche. God, he was going crazy! That had
to be the explanation...

He recalled the events in the elevator before he had come
here with a sudden dread filling the pit of his stomach.
He had passed that off as mere wishful thinking, but now it
had happened twice. _Twice_. In less than a few hours.

"I think I'm going insane..." he said to the air, very
concerned. But... if he were going insane, would he have
the capacity to concern himself with it? Did crazy people
know they were crazy? His mind raced and he began to
breathe heavily. This was so confusing! It was like he was
falling off a cliff without a parachute to save him. And it
terrified him.

The feeling was back... a light touch to his face... a soft
brush on his chest... It felt soooo good... and yet at the
same time he wanted to run for his life. It was quite
disconcerting. What the Hell was wrong with him?

"Stop!" he cried frantically into the air as he gripped
himself in a tight embrace, his knees clutched to his chest
as if they were his only lifeline. Silence. The feeling
disappeared.

His eyes widened in shock. His insanity was listening to
him... it stopped when he told it to... like it was
intelligent or something... He began to shake as he huddled
there on the ground. Something was _very_ wrong with him.

"Nick, I'm sorry... Please don't be frightened..." He shook
his head. There was that voice, distant, filtering through
the air again. And the bells... the wind chimes he had
heard before were back. What on earth?

His confusion was suddenly drowned by a flashflood of
clarity, and he sobbed again. Perhaps he wanted so badly to
feel Natalie's touch again that his mind was creating this
fantasy for him as an outlet. It had felt so much like
her... So real! But... it couldn't have been. He inhaled
deeply. In all his eight-hundred years, he had neither seen
nor heard of anything like this ever happening to anyone
else. Perhaps... perhaps he really was crazy.

A twig snapped somewhere to his left and he started. With a
gasp he glanced up, only to have his eyes meet someone
else's smack dab in front of his own. "Nick! I thought I'd
find you here..." Schanke said gravely, his voice trailing
off as Nick stood up sharply and almost turned straight into
him. Nick looked at him, his face pale and his eyes wide.
He looked terribly frightened, and it made Schanke nervous.
"Nick?" Schanke questioned concernedly, "What's wrong?"

Nick merely looked back and forth between him and Nat's
grave. "Did you hear that?" Nick questioned Schanke
frantically in a demanding tone, hoping against all hope
that he had heard at least _something_. If Schanke had
heard it, that meant he really wasn't insane. But, if
Schanke had heard it... That meant it was real. He wasn't
sure he wanted that either.

"No, I didn't hear anything... except you. Are you all
right? Why did you yell 'stop'?" Schanke looked at his
partner with a discerning eye. That was apparently not the
answer his partner had wanted to hear. Nick looked like he
was about ready to jump out of his skin, and his eyes had a
haunted look about him, like he had just had a one on one
discussion with a ghost.

"No... no I'm fine, Schanke..." Nick said distractedly,
completely avoiding Schanke's second question. "Why are you
here?" he asked, his voice wavering only slightly as he
regained the composure he had lost when Schanke had answered
his question with a negative.

"I came to find you! I'm worried about you Nick," Schanke
said as he looked at Nick, his brow furrowed in frustration.
This was _just_ like Nick. He would go on and on about how
he was fine, when it was obvious that he wasn't. It
somewhat angered Schanke that after all these years, Nick
still felt like he couldn't confide in him at all. But
then, Nick hadn't been the type to open up to anyone.
Except Nat. And she had died. Schanke felt his anger abate
somewhat at the thought.

"I _said_ I was fine! Look, Schanke, I want to... I want to
go home now, ok?" Nick didn't even bother to wait for
Schanke to answer his query before he began to walk off.
Schanke observed grimly that Nick wasn't even heading
homeward, he was just haphazardly launching off in that
particular random direction.

Schanke growled in annoyance as he turned to chase after his
partner. "No," he said, emphasizing the word with a slow
tone that rose in pitch, "It's NOT ok!" He grabbed Nick by
the arm and shook him hard, stopping Nick dead in his tracks
with wide eyes. "She wouldn't have wanted this, damnit!
Nick, you've got to snap out of it!" Schanke cried out at
him, rather upset that Nick needed someone to point such an
obvious fact out to him.

Nick looked like he had been slapped in the face. Schanke
looked at his partner worriedly as Nick's breathing
increased and his body wobbled about on his feet like it was
going to tip over. "Schanke," he said in a pained whisper,
"Please, I want to go home..."

"No! You're going to talk to me about this! I've waited
three months for you to snap out of it, but you haven't.
People are starting to notice, Nick. If you're not careful,
you'll be out of a job soon, the Captain has noticed you
slipping. I'm worried about you, damnit, and I'm not going
to let you waste away like this!" Schanke said, his anger
rising to the surface as his rant went on and on. His face
turned crimson as he thought about just how long he had let
this slide. With a firm determination, Schanke decided that
there was no way that Nick was getting out of this this time.

Nick bit back a sob. How could he make Schanke understand
what Nat had meant to him? Of course, Schanke had not even
the slightest inkling of the whole picture, that he had been
a vampire. A tear slid down his cheek and he hastily wiped
it away. "Schank..." he cried softly, unable to finish as
his knees began to collapse underneath him and waterfalls of
blackness carpeted his vision.

He was caught by Schanke's firm arms before he could fall to
the damp ground. Schanke looked at him with concern as he
stood Nick back up, gently. Schanke had a vague inkling as
to the cause of his partner's sudden collapse... "Nick?
When was the last time you ate?" he questioned, the concern
in his voice tangible.

Nick stared at him, his head still spinning, confused at the
sudden subject change. That was actually a good question.
When was the last time he had eaten and kept it down? He
couldn't remember. The last time he had tried to eat, his
stomach had barely kept the food down for ten minutes before
it all came back up. "I don't know..." he said, forlornly.

"You don't know? How could you not know? What, did you
just decide to wait until you collapse, like now?" Schanke
said as he looked at him incredulously. Maybe Nick was in
far worse shape than even he had thought... Hell, the man
was starving himself.

Nick merely looked at the ground ashamedly, so Schanke took
the initiative. "Look, Nick. I'm going to take you home,
I'm going to feed you, and then you've got a _lot_ of
talking to do because to tell you the truth, I'm sick of
this!" Schanke said. Although he didn't show it, he was
terrified that the only response Nick gave was a silent nod.

At first, Schanke had accepted Nick's grief as a natural
thing. Hell, if Myra had died he was sure that he would've
been as broken up, if not more, than Nick was about Nat.
But the grief had remained, to the point where it was
becoming destructive to Nick's health and to his life. And
_that_, well that he just couldn't allow. The man was
hurting, and he had to help. He couldn't just stand by and
watch Nick slowly destroy himself.

Schanke patted Nick on the back and guided him back towards
his waiting car, trying to ignore the tears trailing quietly
down his partner's cheeks. He silently prayed that it
wasn't too late to help his partner. His best friend...

*****

"Here, Nick. Eat that," Schanke said as he placed a hot
bowl of vegetable soup down on the table in front of Nick.
They were back at the loft, Schanke had had to practically
drag Nick in through the elevator. After forcefully sitting
him down at his small dining room table, Schanke had gone
through each and every one of his cabinets. He had been
horrified to find that the only edible items Nick had were
a can of pickles and some vegetable soup. Who the heck
subsisted on pickles and soup! Schanke, had opted for
giving Nick the soup, but now he grew worried again upon
looking at his partner, now looking down at the table
blankly.

Nick merely stared at the steaming bowl, as if he didn't
know what to do. "Go ahead, Nick. Eat it," Schanke prodded
gently. He felt like he was trying to coax an mistreated
dog out from underneath the bed or something...

"I'm not hungry, Schanke..." Nick said softly as he placed
his head in his hands. He didn't want to eat... it would
only make him sick. Not to mention it would remind him of
his cursed mortality. The mortality he had gotten at the
expense of Nat's death. It wasn't fair, damnit!

Schanke rolled his eyes. "Fine then! I'll force it down
your throat if I have to!" he said as he got up and
approached Nick with a look of menace. "I will not stand by
and watch you slowly kill yourself Nick," he said as Nick
looked up at him with a look of shock. "What, you didn't
think I'd noticed?" Schanke questioned with amazement, but
Nick merely stared at the floor in silence. Finally after
several moments, he heard Nick begin to speak, hopeless and
full of grief.

"It just makes me sick, Schanke..." Nick glanced at Schanke
for his reaction, but quickly looked back at the floor.
Maybe Schanke would leave him alone now...

Schanke blanched. If Nick hadn't been eating for such a
long time because it made him _sick_ why hadn't he gotten
help? It was a scary thought. "Sick?" Schanke queried,
still not quite believing what he had heard.

"Yeah, I can't seem to keep anything down..." Nick sounded
almost ashamed.

Schanke was beginning to look at his partner in a new light
when something occurred to him. "I thought you said that
you cured your allergies?" he prodded.

Nick looked at him grimly. "Well consider this a side
effect..."

Schanke looked at the table and the soup silently. Nick
hadn't told him before that the food was making him ill.
Why hadn't he _told_ him so he could've gotten the help he
needed before it had gotten to this point? Schanke,
however, was torn from his thoughts when Nick broke the
deafening silence that had ensued.

"I can't live without her, Schanke." Those quiet words said
it all. Schanke saw a certain aged horror in Nick's eyes as
he'd said it, almost like he felt too old for his years.

Schanke sat quietly back down and looked at Nick earnestly.
"Nick, I know how you feel, but she wouldn't have wanted you
to..." he was cut off by a sudden burst of anger from Nick.

"You have NO IDEA how I feel!" Nick yelled at his partner in
rage. His muscles shook with tension as he stood up and
threw his chair aside. How could Schanke, a mere child
compared to him, even _begin_ to know how he felt? Of
course, Schanke would never know. Nick could never tell him
the full story. He couldn't tell him about his vampiric
past even if he had wanted to, the enforcers had seen to
that... Nick had been forced to promise that he would never
speak a word about his former vampiric existence, and he was
forbidden to even make contact with the vampire community.

FLASHBACK - THREE MONTHS PREVIOUS

"Nicholas... What have you done?" LaCroix's voice oozed
through the air of the candlelit loft, filled with amazement
and resentment all at the same time. His master looked at
him with a piercing stare.

"I... I don't know. It just... happened," Nick said,
hesitantly. He prepared himself for LaCroix's wrath, but he
received none. Only a calculating stare. He tried to
ignore his shaking hands, but he was genuinely afraid.
LaCroix _could_ hurt him now and he had no doubts whatsoever
that LaCroix had no compunctions about killing him. He was
as mortal as they came, with a stead beating heart. That
was all it would take.

LaCroix looked at him coldly, his expression betraying
nothing. So... Nicholas had found a cure and denied the
gift of eternal life. Finally LaCroix elected to speak.
"What do you mean, it just happened? What of your silly
attempts at a 'cure' with the good Doctor Lambert?" LaCroix
taunted, spitting out the word 'cure' like it was a taboo,
not to be said under any circumstances. Nick tried not to
pay attention to how smug he looked.

"She's dead, LaCroix..." Nick said softly, the tears
beginning to flow freely now. Although he had originally
set out to control himself, Nick failed dismally. But it
didn't matter. He didn't give a damn if LaCroix saw him
like this. He didn't care at all, about anything.

LaCroix looked at Nick with wide eyes, but he only allowed
his astonishment to show for a microsecond before he tucked
it away behind his stone-faced front. He supposed that
Nicholas was expecting a somewhat more violent reaction
based on his look of astonishment. But he had something
different in mind. Perhaps he could convince Nicholas that
he actually wanted to be a vampire... After all, LaCroix
found it hard to believe Nicholas even knew how to be
anything else, what with the majority of his life spent as
one. He leaned in towards his 'son' and stared at him with
a stone cold gaze. "I can take you back, Nicholas," he
paused briefly and let a seductive tone fill his voice as he
continued "You know that it is what you want..."

He pulled Nick towards him and turned him around, tilting
his head sideways to expose his neck. Only Nick's nervous
gasp could be heard as LaCroix ran his fingers lightly over
Nick's neck. Brushing Nick's soft blond hair lightly with
his fingers, LaCroix smiled. His 'son' was trembling in his
grasp. Nicholas was _afraid_ of him and he was showing it.
Feeding on that fear, he snarled briefly, letting his fangs
descend as he hovered over the warm neck of his former
child. He listened to his 'child's' heartbeat, the loud
thumping nearly hypnotizing him into a drunken state. It
had been exquisite the first time he had brought Nick
across, the second would no doubt be just as wonderful.

LaCroix lowered his mouth to Nick's neck, preparing himself
for the ecstasy that was Nick's blood as his lips brushed
against Nick's soft pale skin. "No." The word stopped him
cold and he backed away from his errant 'son' in shock.
Nicholas had dared to refuse his offer? Perhaps he had been
wrong in his earlier assumptions.

"What?" LaCroix's voice sounded somewhat annoyed and quite
harsh in Nick's ears.

"You heard what I said, LaCroix. I don't want that. You
know that I don't..." Nick's voice trailed off as he looked
at his former master with tear-filled eyes. He silently
prayed that LaCroix would accept what he said and respect
his wishes.

LaCroix merely snorted indignantly. "You realize that the
enforcers will kill you..." he said, a haughty tone entering
his voice. But secretly LaCroix knew that he had finally
lost the eight-hundred year battle to keep his 'son' in the
fold.

"I know, LaCroix," Nick said flatly, flinching slightly when
he saw his master's angry stare.

"_You_ are a fool, Nicholas..." And with that... LaCroix
left in a swift gust of air, not bothering to say goodbye.

Nick looked down at the floor as a tear slid down his cheek.
"I know," he said softly. Although he doubted LaCroix could
have heard him, he said it anyway. Because it was the
truth.

THE PRESENT

That was the last he had ever heard from LaCroix. The
enforcers hadn't killed him when they had visited shortly
after as he had expected they would, but shortly after they
visited, LaCroix quit his job at CERK and moved on to God
knows where. Nick shivered, wondering if the enforcers had
compelled the two thousand year old vampire to move or if he
had left of his own volition. What kind of power would it
have taken to get the ancient to move? It scared Nick just
to think of it, more so now than when he had been a vampire.
Nick had been lucky, _extremely_ lucky, that the enforcers
had shown some leniency and allowed him to close the final
chapter in his life as a vampire without having the final
sentence involving his death.

Nick shook himself from his thoughts as he went over to the
window and stared out at the sunset with a blank look on his
face. It was sunset already? He stared at the wisps of
heavenly oranges and purples that streaked through the sky
like and abstract watercolor painting and knew that his
observation was correct. Just how long had he spent at
Nat's grave? He had no time to dwell on it, however,
because Schanke had placed a hand softly on his shoulder and
had begun talking.

"Nick, you just can't do this to yourself. Granted, maybe I
don't know exactly how you feel, but I do know how much you
loved her. I'm not asking you to forget that, I'm just
asking you to try to accept what's happened and move on.
You need to take care of yourself Nick," Schanke said
quietly behind him, and Nick could detect a tightness in his
voice as if he were trying hard not to let his calm visage
fall apart.

Nick couldn't bring himself to look at him, partially out of
shame for putting his friend through so much worry, and
partially because he knew he couldn't comply. He wanted so
desperately to do exactly as Schanke had said. He knew his
grief would only destroy him, Hell, it already had. But it
was _so_ hard! He just couldn't forget Nat as if she were a
bad chapter in a good book. She wasn't some character on a
page that could be easily ignored, she'd been his hope, his
faith, and his love. And now she was gone.

He stared silently at the sunset, its soft light glowing on
his face and making him look infinitely more pale. Was that
where Nat was? It was fitting... It was at times like this
that he wished he hadn't been robbed of his gift of flight,
the one vampiric quality he had enjoyed. He felt, somehow,
that if he could just fly out there and mingle with those
beautiful pastels and whispy clouds that everything would be
all right. The feeling merely increased his longing.

He sighed. After allowing himself to stare out at the
sunset for a bit longer, he turned to face Schanke. "I'm
trying _so_ hard to forget, Schank... I just can't, all
right?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Schanke's only response to his question was a nearly
imperceptible nod. With a look of shame Nick slowly picked
up the chair he had knocked aside and replaced it to its
proper spot, sitting down heavily after he had done so.
Schanke joined him again at the table, sitting across from
him at the other end.

Nick picked up the spoon that was in the now cold soup and
began to eat it slowly. He really was very hungry... The
coolness of the soup surprised him as it slid down his
throat, the tangy taste of the soggy vegetables floating in
the yellowish liquid giving his senses somewhat of a jolt.
He had never had soup, at least not that he could remember.
It tasted _different_ than he had expected it would. It sat
heavily in his stomach, and for a bit, he thought he would
have to excuse himself to the bathroom, but the feeling soon
passed. However, after a few more swallows, his stomach was
again threatening to rebel and he felt like dozens of
butterflies had taken refuge there. Luckily, he had already
eaten enough soup to satisfy Schanke, so he stopped.

Swallowing thickly, a thought suddenly occurred to him and
he looked up. "Schanke, do you believe in ghosts?" he
asked, genuinely curious. Perhaps what had happened to him
hadn't been his imagination. A part of him really wanted it
to be real. It gave him hope, that maybe he could see Nat
just one more time. His thought leaped at the thought.

"What?" Schanke looked perplexed. Why would Nick ask a
silly question like that at a time like this?

"I _asked_ if you believed in ghosts," Nick repeated, this
time enunciating quite clearly. He was slowly beginning to
realize that asking was a mistake. Schanke was already
worried, asking such an off the wall question would only
worry him more.

"I _heard_ what you said, but why do you ask?" Schanke
questioned his partner, his tone growing slightly suspicious
as he purposely dodged Nick's inquiry.

"Never mind, it was a dumb question. Sorry," Nick hastily
rectified his slip. It was stupid to think Schanke might
actually believe him if he were to relate his experiences in
the elevator and at Nat's grave. Nat was _dead_. The
bitter reality of it slapped him in the face as if he were
realizing it for the first time. Dead. There was no way
he'd ever see her again until he grew old and died. And
with the scars of sin on his soul, even then, it was iffy.
He'd just have to accept that.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several moments
that stretched into an eternity. After what seemed like
hours, Schanke gave Nick an apologetic look and got up,
slapping his thighs in a gesture of closure as he did so.
"Well Nick, as much as I'd like to stay, Myra is expecting
me home soon. Will you be all right if I leave you? You'll
be at work tomorrow, right?" he asked hopefully. They had
broken some ice tonight. This was the first time they had
really talked in awhile. His partner was hurting. Bad.
But it looked like he was _slowly_ on the mend.

"Yeah, Schanke. I'll be fine, and I'll come to work
tomorrow," Nick finally answered in a defeated tone.
Although he realized that he had to, he really didn't want
to go to work at all. He had enough money to live without
working and it just wasn't worth the torment to his heart.
The pain practically ate up his insides whenever he had to
go to the Coroner's Building to get information on a case
from the new head M.E. But... Schanke would never let him
live it down if he retired.

Schanke nodded silently and left via the lift, grabbing his
light gray trench coat as he went. Nick sighed in relief
after Schanke had finally disappeared through the door. He
knew that Schanke was only trying to help, but for Nick it
only made it hurt more.

His chest constricted and he breathed rapidly, trying to
overcome a sudden onslaught of grief. He would _not_ let
the tears fall again. Clenching his fists, he waited until
it passed, only letting out a relieved sigh when he was sure
it was over.

With a certain heaviness to his step, he plodded up the
stairs and entered his bedroom. There, still on the bed,
was his Beretta 9mm. Loaded. Ready. He reached for it
longingly from where he stood in the doorway with his hand
outstretched, but his feet would make no move towards the
bed no matter how hard he tried to move them. It was as if
they were telling him he was wrong to think the handgun on
his bed was the only way out. He shook his head. Fury over
how he had been reduced to such contemplation swept through
his body like a brush fire.

Nick stalked over and angrily swept the Beretta off the bed,
paying it no mind as it hit the floor with a sick thud. As
the sound echoed through the oppressive silence, he let
himself fall to the bed with a heaving breath. He just
couldn't do it. Why? Was he a coward for not wanting to
face up to his sins? Rage coursed through his body at the
thought, shaking his conscience until it rattled. Maybe
tomorrow... With that single thought on his mind, he fell
into a restless sleep.

*****

Nat stared at Nick's sleeping form, her eyes filling with
tears as she got a really good look at him. His hair was
slightly mussed and he had a disturbed expression on his
face, similar to that of a lost little boy, even as he
slept.

It was nothing like he used to look when he slept, so
innocent and young. He looked like he had aged years in
only the past few months. Hints of wrinkles were clawing
at the corners of his eyes and his face was deathly pale,
almost as if he were still a vampire. It was as if his
heart and soul had withered and left a dying old man with
nothing left to live for in his place. Nat couldn't help
but shiver when she realized it might be true.

Nat looked over to the small handgun that Nick had swept to
the floor in a fit of anger. She let out a small sob as she
bent over his silent form and brushed his face with a
glowing hand, relishing the feel of his warm skin underneath
her fingers. It was obvious that he was trying to kill
himself, and her heart wrenched in her chest when she
thought of how much his grief over her death had hurt him.

She brushed a stray lock of his unruly blond hair away from
his face. He looked so tired. So alone. A tear slid down
her cheek and made its way lazily into the clutches of
gravity. Seeing his like this made her so incredibly sad.
Even when trying to comfort him it seemed as though she
horribly messed things up every time.

She shuddered when she remembered how upset he had been at
her grave... Even worse, she had only fueled his confusion.
For some reason, he had been able to hear her and feel her.
It had hurt when she had seen the fear in his eyes, she'd
only been trying to help him. What was worse was that she
couldn't reveal herself to him. It was against Their own
private code, and They had told her specifically that she
could only give him a subconscious boost.

And right now, Nick need as much boosting as he could get.
Nick had been on a razor-sharp edge, straddled between a
world of vampires and a world of mortals, not really fitting
in either one. Now he had been relentlessly thrust into the
mortal one with no one to guide him, no one for him to
confide in. That should have been her job. Now, she was
simply to comfort him until his time came. Until he had
found his redemption. His peace. His soul...

Natalie laughed bitterly as she peered over him. Life could
be so cruel. So incredibly cruel. She brushed his face
again with a luminescent hand. His face was so soft... At
least where there wasn't prickly stubble, it was like
velvet. She longed to touch him for real, to run her
fingers through his hair, to embrace him with every ounce of
strength that she had, all the things that she used to do to
comfort him when he was distressed.

She was startled from her thoughts when Nick began to mumble
in his sleep, showing some distress over whatever dream he
was having. His breath was coming in ragged gasps as he
continued to mumble. It sounded almost like... archaic
French. With her limited high school French, she was able
to loosely translate it into, "No! Please don't go..."
Over and over he said it, shaking with an intensity that
would've been painful for him had he been awake. Lying down
on the bed next to him, she wrapped her arms around his chest
and hugged him tightly. Perhaps she could still offer him
comfort, even if he wouldn't know she was the one giving it.

*****

She brushed her curly brown hair to the side with her hand
and waved at him, smiling with a sickly sweet curl of her
upper lip. "Goodbye Nick! I'll call you when I'm back
from Quebec!"

Nick saw her from across the terminal, but the distance
between them seemed insurmountable. He had to warn her! He
had to stop her from getting on that plane before it was too
late. The sound of a jet passing overhead nearly knocked
him flat. His heart launched into a series of rapid beats
when he saw her pick up the carryon bag that was sitting
beside her feet... No. NO. "Nat! You can't get on the
plane!" he tried desperately to scream at her to come back,
but the words came back to his ears as a mute whisper. She
started to wave again, almost as if she was mocking his
failing attempts to stop her. "NAT, NO!" he tried again,
but again he failed, his voice hoarse with strain.

He launched through the terminal with frightening speed,
trying to catch her, but it was as if he was on a treadmill.
The distance between them actually seemed to be increasing
the faster he went. He was about to take off into the air,
consequences be damned, but suddenly, there was a crowd all
around him, a sea of heartbeats that couldn't be silenced.

He turned to the left. "Sir, I hope you have a wonderful
day with Air Canada..." the woman he practically sent
sprawling to the floor spouted in a saccharine tone.
Screaming in frustration, he turned to the right only to
trip over a lady's suitcase. With a yelp of surprise he
went sprawling to floor, but he still clawed his way
desperately forward. The crowd was clawing at him,
screaming in his ears, but he kept his eyes focused on her.
Nat Nat Nat Nat Nat Nat. He cried out as a particularly
vicious patron ripped his shoe from his right foot.

Nat was still waving as if nothing were wrong, and she
started to turn towards the entry ramp. "NAT!" He gained
his footing back and scrambled through the swarm of people,
dodging this way and that, but they kept coming and coming.

"Air Canada is the key to business success. We provide
discounts for first class passengers..." The woman from
before was back and her voice rang through his ears. He
felt ill, but he had to keep going.

PAIN! He was in the windowed portion of the terminal, the
sunlight was bombarding him in a rain of spears. Nick
cried out in fury and pain as his skin started to burn and
flake like dry paper. He fell to the ground again, blinded
by the intense light as it seared his eyes.

He had to keep going. He had to stop her! Groping blindly,
he headed towards where he had last heard her, but the pain
was too much and he collapsed again, with his hand
outstretched in a final plea to Nat to heed his cries.

Curling into a tight ball with his arms curled around his
abdomen, he prayed for an end. Anything to stop the pain.
He could feel his insides incinerating, but for some reason
the end never came. Suddenly, a deafening boom nearly sent
him flying backwards across the floor. The sound echoed
through the din, rumbling in his ears like metal screaming
as it would were it being torn apart. "NAT!" His voice was
utterly dead. Nothing came out of his mouth as he screamed
her name, over and over again through his pain, "Nat! Nat!
Nat! Nat! Nat!"

Then, as if he had been doused in darkness, the sun stopped
burning. The pain was gone as if it had never been and he
got up shakily, barely noting that his skin was completely
unscathed from the previous onslaught of harmful light. He
ran without hesitation onto the runway. Everything was
gone. The plane was drowning in a sea of flames as rubble
continued to fall to the ground, thumping loudly as each
piece hit the pavement and surrounding grass of the runway.

He coughed as the whisps of smoke entered through his
nostrils and seared his lungs. Ignoring the burning
sensation it promoted, Nick peered around desperately
through the haze of black smoke. Nothing. Nothing left.
There was nothing left.

He sobbed, a small lost broken sound escaping his lips as he
began to tremble. It was all his fault. He didn't warn her
in time. She was gone. Gone. She was gone. Why was she
gone? Because of him. It was his fault and she was gone.

"No I'm not, Nick," a voice said through the clouds of hazy
smoke. He looked up to see Nat walking ethereally towards
him through the debris in an angelic white robe almost as if
she were floating across the black pavement of the runway.
Her translucent skin glowed like candlelight underneath
white silk, and he stared at her in wonder. She was directly
in front of him now. What trick of magic was this? He let
out a small gasp when she placed her hand on his shoulder.
Nick felt all his pain seeping out of his body through that
simple contact.

Not trusting his voice, he simply stood there and closed his
eyes when she took him into a tight embrace. This wasn't
real. Nat was _dead_. Dead. She was DEAD.

"No I'm not, Nick," she said firmly. "I live in you. My
heart is a part of yours now. Never forget that," she
whispered softly into his ear, her voice like a feather in
his ear. How had she known what he was thinking?
Impossible.

With a wave of her hand, they were no longer on the dreaded
runway. They were back in his bedroom at his loft. This
was too much. He shook his head in disbelief. "Stop it!
You're dead! I _killed_ you!" he said, his voice sounding
like someone punched his stomach as it escaped in a pained
wheeze. He felt the guilt crushing him like a vice as he
struggled to remain standing.

"No you didn't Nick. You're not to blame, you couldn't have
known the plane was going to explode," Nat maintained with a
calm expression on her face.

"But I should have!" Nick yelled at her in denial,
forgetting his amazement at her presence. It was his fault.
_His_ fault.

"You couldn't have and you know it," she said evenly, but
her eyes expressed the passion that her voice did not.

"Oh, Nat... I'm sorry..." He began to cry in heavy wracking
sobs. His body trembled in her grasp as she ran her right
hand comfortingly through his hair. Eventually the jarring
sobs were replaced with soft sniffles and finally one last
shaky sigh. "Why did you have to go?" the small plaintive
whisper tumbled through the air on wings of grief.

Nat placed a finger on his lips to silence him as she
wrapped her arms more tightly around him. He went limp in
her grip, completely exhausted.

"Let me help you, Nick," she whispered as she collapsed onto
the bed with him curled in her arms like a lost boy. She
kissed him softly on the back of the neck and began to
soothe him with light touches of her hands. He groaned,
partially in pleasure and partially in grief.

"Let me help you..." Nat's voice began to disappear as her
body began to fade.

Nick snapped awake and the dream fell into oblivion,
replaced by the evil piercing ring of his infernal alarm
clock. He was still so tired... He felt like he'd gotten no
sleep at all. It was always the same. He had that same
nightmare every night. Except... this one had been
different. He shuddered, remembering the vision of Nat's
burned body, always coming back to haunt him in his
nightmares. But he hadn't seen that this time. This dream
was different.

Nat had come back to him... Nick choked back a sob. If
only that would really happen. He shook his head softly as
he forced himself off the bed and began to get ready for
work. Life wasn't fair. Nothing was fair.

*****

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up for
work!" Schanke exclaimed in amazement as a disheveled Nick
stumbled into the office. He cringed at the tired glare he
received from his partner. Although Nick had said he would
come in today, Schanke had not believed that he would
actually follow through with his promise. Despite Nick's
awful, unshaven appearance, Schanke smiled. They were
making progress.

Nick merely growled as he took a seat at his immaculate desk.
"What are we working on right now? Refresh me..." Nick said,
his voice gruff and full of weariness. If Schanke hadn't
known better, he would've thought Nick was suffering from a
hangover.

"Nick, remember, the Pickett case? Two bodies... no
witnesses?" Schanke prodded, hoping he wouldn't have to
review the _whole_ thing with Nick.

Nick merely nodded. "Oh yeah," he said quietly, looking
down at his desk as Schanke gently placed the files from the
case on the flat surface for him to read over. Schanke
noticed that Nick was purposely avoiding looking around at
the surrounding office, and he glanced up to see what was up.

The office had grown steadily quieter since Nick had come in.
It was a rare occurrence indeed that the 'Knightmare' showed
up lately. He'd taken almost a month and a half of his
accumulated sick leave already... Schanke stood up and
glared at the staring observers, daring them to do something.
Most of them went back to working on whatever it was that
they had been working on. Schanke shrugged and sat back
down at his desk.

"Nick..." Schanke turned to see his partner staring off
into space, caught in some train of thought that was
currently careening away from the task at hand at high
velocity. He rolled his eyes and repeated himself with more
emphasis, "NICK..."

Nick shook himself from his thoughts and stared at Schanke
expectantly. "What?" Nick questioned, looking confused at
Schanke's sudden intrusion into his thoughts.

Schanke took a deep breath and started to speak. "Nick, We
need to go check out Jacob Corbin. He's the suspect I came
up with last week, remember, I told you about this
before..."

"Corbin? Right, yeah. Ok," Nick said absently. Schanke
looked at him concernedly. His partner was at work... but
his mind was far from it. Schanke watched Nick grab his
black duster from the rack and throw it on with a sigh.
His eyes darting to the left, he noticed Captain Cohen
sticking her head out of her office to peer at the fallen
hero cop with a slight frown. Schanke knew she was just
about at the end of her rope, and Nick didn't have much more
time left before she took action. He shook his head. He
really wished Nick would snap out of this. At least he had
shown up...

Nick nodded to Schanke and the pair proceeded out towards
the precinct parking lot and into the blaring sunlight.
Schanke visibly blanched when Nick haphazardly wandered
towards Schanke's own beat up old Chevy, bypassing his
Caddie sitting lonely in the distant corner of the lot.
Taking the hint, Schanke got out his keys. Nick looked
forlornly at his own green Cadillac as he sat in the
passenger seat of Schanke's car, but he made no move to
protest that he wasn't driving. Schanke simply sighed and
turned the key in the ignition. Things were so different
now...

Nick felt like he was going to fall apart into a million
pieces. He had tried to ignore the stares of his coworkers,
but it was difficult when he knew that each and every one of
their searing eyes were looking at him. When Schanke had
handed him the report on the murder, trying to act like
nothing was out of the ordinary, it tore him apart even
more. He knew that he was making life difficult for just
about everyone, but he couldn't help it. At least they
didn't have to go to the Coroner's Building today... that
would just be too much.

After riding in silence, Schanke quietly announced that they
were at their intended destination and then pulled the car
over to the side of the road. Nick merely sighed, the
depression that had been nagging at the back of his mind
threatening to finally overcome him. Just when he thought
he would drown in the oppressing weight of it, he felt his
tension lift somewhat. That strange feeling he had had
earlier at Nat's grave returned and he stiffened in response.

Schanke was looking at him strangely with one of his 'Don't-
go-weird-on-me-_again_' looks as he got out of the car, so
Nick valiantly ignored the unsettling sensations. "Nick?
Why don't you let me ask the questions, ok? You don't look
all that hot right now..." Schanke said honestly, a hint of
worry creeping into his voice.

Nick nodded in silent agreement. He didn't want to ask the
questions. Without his hypnotic powers, there was really no
advantage to him asking them anyway, why not let Schanke do
it? He ran a hand through his ruffled blond hair as they
approached the door. The strange sensation had disappeared,
but he was left with a general feeling of uneasiness and he
wasn't quite certain the two were connected. Although it
had been severely diminished with his reversion to
mortality, his danger sense was still quite keen.

Schanke lightly knocked on the door of the small, two-
story, red brick house. "Jacob Corbin?" Schanke called out,
hesitantly. He always hated questioning suspects. Who knew
what they would do when they saw the police at the door?

"Yeah, who is it?" came a muffled baritone voice from
behind the door. The annoyed tone in the man's voice made
it obvious that he was not pleased about the interruption.
The hairs on the back of Nick's skin crawled. Something
was very wrong with this situation. Very wrong.

Schanke looked at Nick and then back to the door. "I'm
Detective Schanke and this is Detective Knight. We're from
the Toronto PD. We'd like to ask you a few questions
regarding the murders of Samual and Janelle Pickett..." he
said loudly into the door.

Silence. Nick looked to Schanke and they both drew their
guns from their holsters. "Sir, open the door please," Nick
called out loudly, his cop persona finally kicking in.
"Sir?" he questioned again.

They heard a string of curses from behind the door and a
loud thump. "Nick, he's running for it!" Schanke told his
partner, but Nick already knew.

Nick, a former predator, knew quite well how the prey would
react if it felt threatened. It would run... "You go
through the front, I'll go around back..." he said.

Schanke smiled. "C'mon, Nick. You always take the back..."
he complained lightheartedly, despite the seriousness of the
situation. Some of the old Nick was apparently still in the
walking shell of a man that now resided in his body...

Nick smiled back, something Schanke hadn't observed Nick do
in a long, long time. Seeing it had a cathartic effect.
"I know. Now GO!" Nick said as he took off around the side
of the house. Breathing hard, he analyzed the situation
carefully. No windows or doors were opened, which meant
there was a pretty good chance that the perp was still in
the house. Waiting? Or perhaps, setting a trap for a
certain pair of invading detectives...

Still feeling some remnants of his predatory drive, he
gripped his gun tightly as sweat beaded on his forehead
from the adrenaline. He swiftly kicked the back door in and
entered the house, hugging the wall immediately inside the
door with his back as he searched the room inside with his
eyes.

Glancing around, he realized that he'd entered in through
the kitchen. But damn, it was dark. The house had
absolutely no lighting whatsoever... Even in the daylight,
it was almost oppressively dark. He hadn't realized
how much he had relied on his vampiric night-vision until
now. Keeping his back to the wall, he sidestepped through
a wide arched doorway into the dining room on the light feet
of a practiced hunter. He had to keep up his guard... He
wasn't invincible anymore.

Listening carefully, straining to hear _anything_ of
significance, he was overwhelmed by the sound of his own
heavy breathing. Over the din of his own rapidly beating
heart and his ragged breath, he heard a soft thump coming
from elsewhere in the dark house.

It could be Schanke. It could be Corbin. Nick tensed as he
sidestepped into the adjoining study room, training his gun
all about until he was certain the room had no occupants
other than himself and a wide variety of books. There was a
long hallway connecting this room to the next and he quickly
proceeded along the walls and into one of the recesses along
its side where a small chest of drawers could be kept
without obstructing the walkway.

Nick heard another thump and practically jumped out of his
skin. He breathed in deeply and forced himself to relax a
bit. Training his gun in the direction of the noise, he
peered out briefly and sighed with relief when he saw
Schanke proceeding past the mouth of the hallway cautiously.
He wiped away the sweat dripping into his eyes with a shaky
hand and was about to alert Schanke to his presence when he
saw it. His heart nearly stopped when he noticed the
ominous red dot on the back of Schanke's neck. A laser
sight.

"Schanke, look out!" he cried aloud in warning as he ran
down the short hallway in seconds. Nick paid no attention
to Schanke, who had barely time to react as he barreled out
of the hallway, leaping into the air almost horizontally.
In mid flight, he let out a shot from his trusty Beretta,
the gun he had earlier tried to kill himself with, but not
before he felt a blast of pain as something impacted into
his chest.

He fell to the floor, his back hitting the wall with a
painful crack. It seemed like everything was going in slow
motion. Although he thought he heard Schanke saying
something about "Officer down!" he couldn't be sure. Why
did everything feel so weird? He took a short breath,
surprised at the effort it took. Something nagged at his
brain until it finally registered. He'd been shot. That's
what it was. Shot.

Although it wasn't really as painful as he had expected it
to be, Nick could feel the wetness of his own blood
cushioning his body as he lay there crumpled on the floor
in a heap. A certain numbness began to set it and he
vaguely saw the man he presumed to be Jacob Corbin slump to
the floor. Schanke suddenly appeared over him as his vision
began to blur and fade. "Did... did I get him, Schanke?"
Nick said, his voice slurred. He was starting to feel cold.
So cold...

He heard Schanke say with a horribly sad tone, "Yeah, Nick.
You got him." He nodded and closed his eyes as he coughed
up a little blood. Wasn't that a sign of internal bleeding?
Coughing up blood was bad, wasn't it? He didn't know. He
felt so numb. Schanke's hand was cradling his head, but he
could barely feel it. At least he had managed to save his
partner. It brought him comfort to know he had done
_something_ right... But why was it so cold? He opened his
eyes to a dark blur, but strangely, he could swear he saw
Nat standing over him with her head bowed, weeping.

"Nat?" he called, his voice containing an odd clarity to it
despite his condition. She didn't answer. It was so
cold... Her hand reached out and grasped his. He took a
quick, pained breath at the feel of her hand in his.

It was so cold.

So incredibly cold...

*****

PRELUDE TO AN END

-/When the dark wood fell before me
-/And all the paths were overgrown
-/When the priests of pride say there is no other way
-/I tilled the sorrows of stone

"Nick Knight... was a... was a brave man. He saved my life,
and I can't thank him enough for what he's given me. A
chance to see my Jenny graduate from high school. A chance
to tell my wife I love her again... I've never had a better
partner or a better _friend_ in my life. And for that, Nick
Knight, I wish you luck and... and I hope you find Natalie,
wherever you are now... Rest in peace."

-/I did not believe because I could not see
-/Though you came to me in the night
-/When the dawn seemed forever lost
-/You showed me your love in the light of the stars

Nick watched somewhat sadly from the pew as Schanke
concluded his speech, touched that someone could care that
much about him. Schanke was of the aspects of his life that
he would sorely miss. He let a small tear drift down his
cheek, but he quickly wiped it away.

-/Cast your eyes on the ocean
-/Cast your soul to the sea
-/When the dark night seems endless
-/Please remember me

"Nick? Are you coming?"

-/Then the mountain rose before me
-/By the deep well of desire
-/From the fountain of forgiveness
-/Beyond the ice and fire

Torn from his musings, Nick glanced behind him. "Yes, Nat.
I'm coming," he said softly with a smile. Taking one last
look at Schanke, he crossed himself. "Goodbye, Schanke,"
he said in a soft whisper.

-/Cast your eyes on the ocean
-/Cast your soul to the sea
-/When the dark night seems endless
-/Please remember me

-/Though we share this humble path, alone
-/How fragile is the heart
-/Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
-/To touch the face of the stars

-/Breathe life into this feeble heart
-/Lift this mortal veil of fear
-/Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
-/We'll rise above these earthly cares

He stood up and grasped her hand firmly, kissing her
chastely on the lips. With ethereal smiles, they walked
towards the rear of the church, out the set of large wooden
double doors, and into the light.

-/Cast your eyes on the ocean
-/Cast your soul to the sea
-/When the dark night seems endless
-/Please remember me
-/Please remember me

****

EPILOGUE - LACROIX

A bittersweet ending to a long life...

Nicholas was a strong individual, weakened by the scars of
his own foolish emotions. He chose is path, as you can
choose yours, for himself. I maintain that love will only
bring harm, but I am sure that Nicholas would beg to differ.

Only he knows now, how everything turned out for himself.
Perhaps he is with his Natalie in eternity, or perhaps not.
I suppose I will always wonder, but that cannot be helped...
I shall move on, and so will all of Nicholas's little mortal
friends. That is the nature of human spirit... To triumph
over loss.

And so I leave you with this, dear reader. Embrace my words
and my message.

Carpe Noctem.

THE END