A/N: This takes place during "Last Knight." I just felt the need to add a little something, and this popped into my head.

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Nick sat on the dirt and looked up at the sky. He had to admit: if he ever did regain his humanity, he would miss flying through the clouds. Sometimes, a brief flight was his only form of comfort.

Comfort would not come tonight. He had just finished seeing one of his partners lying in the intensive care unit of the hospital, clinging to life. His other partner was laid before him.

He leaned forward and started tracing the letters on the tombstone with his fingers. Donald Schanke was gone, that was true, but he was far from being forgotten.

Nick dropped his hand and turned his head to the ground. In the faintest of voices, he choked out, "I'm sorry."

He could have trusted Tracy with his secret. He knew this. But now, he had to admit to himself that he SHOULD have trusted Schanke.

In the last eight centuries, mortals had come and gone from Nick's life. Each left their speck of essence on his existence, sometimes to be remembered in a passing fancy. But Schanke...he was different.

"I should have told you," Nick spoke to the grave. He didn't care who might hear him, though he could not imagine who might be walking in a cemetary at one thirty in the morning.

"You should have known what I am. Being partners...it's about trusting each other. I guess I was a bad partner. You, though, you were the best. You never had a problem trusting me, that much was clear.

"You know now, don't you? You're probably up there, watching me, screaming about me messing everything up.

"But you can understand why I didn't tell you, right? I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk your life by telling you."

Nick sighed. "That's no excuse though. You always knew I was different. The detective in you told you that. I should have let you figure it out."

His vision starts to turn red, not from rage, but from the blood-red tears welling up in his eyes. Slowly, he stood up and wiped his face with his sleeve. Nick watched as the tears soaked the fabric, staining it an all too familiar hue. He put both his hands on the grave marker and leaned close to it once more.

"I miss you, Schank. I always will." He dropped his hands and took two steps backwards. "Hasta la bye-bye."

With that, he was gone, not knowing that he would never return again.

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