A/N: I just saw The Reckoning. After watching, I tried to think of things to write for current fanfics, tried to go onto the forums I visit... yet I couldn't concentrate. My mind kept playing the scene where Nicholas dies over and over, from the point of him being stabbed to the point where he dies. So I finally just started to write and this came out. I do adore it and think I captured Nicholas very well in the way I wrote it. I hope you agree.

P.s. I love Paul Bettany. This was an amazing movie and he did a fantastic job. The death scene was fantastically acted - you can even tell the exact point of contact by watching Nicholas's neck. Simply beautifully acted. Wonderful work by the entire cast. Please enjoy this story.

"You want to know why I did what I did. Well, because I wanted to, and also because I could."

That's why I did the things I did. I wanted to. I wanted to save an innocent woman. Perhaps I believed, and still do believe, that saving her and proving her innocence that I… despicable, disgusting me… would be allowed back into God's good graces. High is the kingdom of heaven's goals. None can ever attain the perfection God desires… But somehow I prayed this would allow me back to the place I had been before, clean and undefiled by these horrendous sins.

The pain is swift, but not as painful as I'd have thought. It was such a short burst of sensation that I didn't make any noise to alert anyone. My face fell against the man whom I had just denounced. To the others, I'm sure this was confusing. They did not know what had occurred. The blunt, short knife buried in my gut had gone unnoticed… and was now hidden away as it once was. All evidence is gone, save for a trail of blood down the Lord's hand.

My body tingled. My face twitched. I could only imagine what expressions I may have made. I felt my fingers shiver. I heard Martin move forward toward me as the killer walked away… I say killer, because that was, in all true essence, what he was. He had killed four boys before Thomas Wells, and now… I knew already too well how stabbings went. In the arms or legs, perhaps amputation would have sufficed… but in the gut, in my stomach… the pain itself almost drove me to my knees, yet I stood.

I shook off Martin as he touched my shoulder. I held my stomach. Like others, I too tried like the human I was to hold the blood inside my skin. Like all the others, I knew it was in futility. Leaving Martin confused, and the others probably even worse off, I walked for the door. My footsteps were shaky. I wonder if the others were suspicious or thought me shaken by the interaction with Lord De Guise.

Outside was cold… and I was already so cold. I did not feel the shivers others would have succumbed to. I looked up. The snow was falling lightly. Nay, I couldn't even see it. I had not the strength to stand. I fell against the wall. I looked out at the Lord as he stopped walking. I wanted to call out, to say something profound or important – to make my last moments more worthwhile. Still, I could hardly breathe anymore, much less speak. My stomach felt torn, like I'd once felt… torn between lust and morality… between fleeing for my life and letting myself be punished by more righteous hands than my own. My gut ached.

Still I stood, hands clutched to my body, blood seeping through my numbing fingers. My face felt chill, the way I'd once imagined a man had felt when I looked down at his dead corpse… lying in a grave yet to be filled as I presided over his funeral. Had I too become so pale? Did I look deathly, as I once scorned others for appearing?... all in my head, of course.

"Arrest them all."

The Lord Robert's words were ignored. I gazed into the face of the lead knight. He could see me clearly. I was a man dead on his feet. My knees and hands shook. I took deep breaths and took a hard swallow to clear my throat. As I looked at the sad and solemn faces around me, I knew my work had been finished. They all knew. Justice would be served by the people's hands… as I had once said it should be. The people's justice. I deserved nothing less than that which I had received. Even had I not felt Robert De Guise's blade, one day soon I would have felt the harsh burn of the rope round my neck. This… all was divine judgment, whether it be god's or man's… or someone else's. My hand clenched the string still tied around it. My cross… my priestly mark was now stained in blood. All the watchful eyes could see the way the red ran over the silver, like my sin had once covered me in some darker shroud.

My eyes filled with tears, though I tried not to cry. Then my knees gave out and I had not the strength to stop any and every emotion inside of me from showing freely on my features. The ground hit me hard, harder than I wished it. I felt my fingers fill with a rush of new blood and I felt…. afraid.

Then, as I stared down at the mess that signified my life leaving me, I saw a figure kneel beside me. Martin. I shivered and felt so much colder than I'd ever felt before. I hadn't lost a ton of blood, but it had been enough. I tried to swallow my panting, but it was for naught. I whimpered and shivered. I was so… so very cold.

"Hold me."

I thanked god himself… my voice had worked. They were the first words I'd spoken since the wound had been inflicted and I meant them with all my soul, with all my being. Martin's face looked like he wanted to speak, as though he wanted to assure me or comfort me. I'm glad he didn't, but in a way I wish he'd spoken. I was sure my hearing was failing. I could not hear the sound of the people leaving, or of the snow. Had I heard Martin speak, perhaps I would not have been so frightened. But I knew… Martin was afraid as well. I could not ask him to push through his fear to speak to me when I, myself, could not speak past my own fears.

Martin's arms were burning warm, bundled up in all his costumes, yet somehow they provided no help. I felt the warmth and yet it only made me realize how frozen I was. Martin pulled me away from his body. Now there were two faces gazing at me, worry in their features. I began to whimper, perhaps even whine. Call it what you may, I could not stop the sounds.

I didn't want to die… not now by this blade, nor later by the rope. I had always hoped to die married and old. Being a priest may have put the married life on hold, but in my heart I had still longed for it… longed for it and desired it like that poor woman's flesh. It all seemed so long ago.

My eyes darted between the faces. I begged for them to speak to me. My voice could not compose itself as beautifully as it once had, so I tried with my eyes. Speak to me, I prayed. Speak to me and let me be healed of the terror in my chest. Hold me. Hold me and keep me apart of myself, for I feel myself splitting in two. Pray for me, for I have forgotten the scriptures… Though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I shall fear no evil… for He is with me. For they are with me. Please, speak to me.

I gasped and cried. This was the end of life for me. By scripture, I knew to believe that God had a kingdom waiting in the heavens with a place just for me where I would forever be joyful in his presence, with no worries, no fears, and no pain. Yet how could I ever believe the God I'd devoted my life to could forgive me for the horrendous sins of the flesh that had occurred in just the last short period of the life the good lord had given me. Nay, I could only hope, with the faintest ray of light passing through a dense fog, that God would forgive me… and as I'd said such a short time ago, and yet such a long time ago, hope does not disappoint. I had not meant it to be thought of in such times as I was in, and yet my mind clung to that sermon of mine. How silly.

I nearly laughed with my last breaths. Strength was failing me. I shivered yet could not feel it. I felt nothing, nothing but the dulling pain in my gut. I tried to hide my face, the pain etched upon it, and then… At last I felt my own heart stop beating. Oh is the irony of the Lord and of life. Passion burning brightly in the heart leads to powerful, truthful words that can inspire a people. Somewhere along the way, I had lost this passion, just as I was losing the beating in my chest now. As my last breath left me and my soul departed this earthly place, I wanted to smile.

God had forgiven me. In my last moments on Earth, he had given me back the spark that I had lost along the path of the righteous church. If only I could use that passion to spur up one more breath… with which… to tell them all… how thankful and gratifying it was… to meet each of them…. How much I loved them all… and to tell them… Good bye.

~ Nicholas de Vilance