Category: Forever Knight, Nick&Nat fic.

Synopsis: This is my ending to "Last Night", the series finale which was never finished.

Relentless Sufferings

"And so tell me, children of the night. What is it you truly hope to achieve in this life of yours? Is this harrowing search you impose upon yourself your true dream; or are you just filling these minutes, of which you have many."

Nick stirred slowly among the living. His ears were of full use, the booming voice ringing throughout his head. But his eyes, his lips were still without feeling at all.

"Tell me, Nicholas. What is it you truly desire?" The voice drew closer until Nick could swear its source stood above him. He strained to open his eyes, speak the condemned name that lay upon his lips.

"LaCroix."

A vicious laugh, and then silence. "The future is in your hands now, Nicholas. It's up to you to make the choice. But be warned, if the choice you make is the wrong one – there will be penalties that even you will find hard to endure."

Nick suddenly began to blink, his vision returning to him slowly. As he turned his neck, he was given a full view of his surroundings. But there was no other human figure around, nothing else in that room that could have spoken those words to him, in that cruel tone that he knew so well.

"Where are you?!" He cried out, the feeling returning to his lips now.

Another spiteful laugh. "In time,my son, in time."

Nick tried to bring himself up, pushing with his elbows at the hard bed he lay on. He was able to sit now, but the lack of feeling in his legs didn't allow him anything else. He surveyed the room again, this time taking into account everything that he possibly could. It was decorated in dark colors, browns and earthy greens. The walls were so pale that the old furniture that stood before them seemed to just wash right in.

The coldness that he'd felt in the air when the voice had spoken was now gone. Replacing it was a warmth that made the musty smell of the room seem almost dead against the lavender that had been lain across his pillows.

As his searching eyes rested on the walls, as if they could bring an answer as to his whereabouts, a sudden presence filled the room. Once again, Nick ached to turn around, to face this evil demon that was haunting his thoughts. He wanted to jump from the bed, and throw whatever he could get his hands upon. But he settled for a slight turn of the head, which allowed him a view of the doorway, and the woman who stood in it.

She was not evil at all, and once Nick had lain his eyes upon her, he felt a sudden softening in his heart. The feeling of dread seemed to drain from him, replaced by a sense of wonder, a sense of confusion.

"Where am I?" He asked, slowly, watching as the woman proceeded to walk into the room towards him. She had on a spring yellow lab coat, her soft blonde hair hung in loose curls around her face. Both the coat and the clipboard she held in her arms seemed to bring memories back into Nick's mind, but they flooded too quickly for him to digest fully.

"You're in the hospital," she said, slowly, her voice soft. "Don't you remember the accident?"

"Accident?" Nick's brows furrowed. In his mind everything was a jumble, he couldn't remember much besides his name, and surprisingly the man with the evil voice, whom something within him was calling "LaCroix."

"Yes, you were rushed in here immediately after it happened, and we almost lost you too. There was so little blood in you; it's almost a miracle that you could have survived. But you've made such a miraculous recovery that the doctors are letting you go today. The only problem is that we haven't got a clue where to send ya off to!"

Nick tried to force a smile. "Yeah well, neither do I. There's something missing in my mind, as though it's been permanently erased or something," he laughed. "Sounds silly, huh."

"No, not at all!" She replied, coming closer. "Your pulse is still weak, and you haven't regained much color to your face … but that's not surprising, considering your allergy."

"My allergy?" Nick replied, half-heartedly. He had begun to let his mind wander. For the first time, he noticed that there was a small window on the far side of the room; flanked in dark curtains. He propelled himself up from the bed, and rushed over to the window. When the bright daylight flooded into the room, making contact with his skin, Nick felt himself reel backward. He stumbled back toward his bed, falling in a great heap, his hands covering his face.

"Your allergy to sunlight." She replied, opening the clipboard. "Or at least that's what someone observed during your stay."

Nick's breath was coming in short gasps, as he tried to come to terms with the burning sensation he was feeling throughout his body. A vision flashed before his eyes, but this time it came slowly enough for him to fully interpret. Him, his eyes a golden yellow, long, sharp teeth protruding over his lips. He watched as the vision of himself slowly leaned forward, placing those teeth into the soft neck of the woman before him.

Nick shuddered, blinking rapidly. His memory cleared again, and he became aware of the young woman in the yellow labcoat before him, her brows raised in concern. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just … thinking of something." He apologized.

"We'll have to release you tonight, since that's the only time we can be sure of your safety. But the doctor would like to have you come back sometime so we can do more extensive tests on this allergy of yours. It's quite new and unique to us here," she smiled.

Nick smiled back, knowing very well that he would never return again. The memories were playing again, giving him a look into the person – the creature – that he was. But while he wasn't sure he understood exactly what was going on, he did know for certain who and what he was. He remembered Toronto, and a police force; a blonde haired partner with a bullet through her chest. The terrorizing memories came before him, and as they did, he seemed to understand.

When he returned to the present, he saw that the woman was walking from his room. "Natalie…" he called to her.

She turned around, stunned at his voice. "Aislinn," she replied. "My name is Aislinn." And with that, she was gone.

Natalie. So she wasn't the Natalie he had seen in his vision, the woman whom he had drained the life from, whom he had loved. Love. That was a strange word in his mind, a word that somehow didn't have much meaning to him – except her face. As he relived her memory, Nick began to see why he was in love with her. She was beautiful; and she possessed an innocence that he had never seen in anyone before. She, too, was a doctor – of sorts – and whenever he visited her, she had on that white labcoat, her hair pulled back into a clip. But she looked so much more beautiful with her hair free, hanging down her neck and past her shoulders.

Making sure to avoid the strand of light that shone through the open window, Nick strode from the room. As he walked down the hallway, he noticed how deserted it was. Not even the odd nurse or orderly could be seen. As he made his way back towards his empty room, Nick caught sight of a yellow coat swishing before him.

"Aislinn," he called out.

She turned around. "Oh, Nicholas, hello. What are you doing up and out of your room? I thought we gave you strict orders to stay there until tonight."

"Yeah, well – I was just looking for something."

Aislinn walked into the nearest room, returning with a phonebook in her hands. "Who are you looking for?" She began.

"Lambert," Nick said, the word rolling from his mind before he had time to compute it. "Natalie Lambert."

Aislinn turned the pages, furiously running her finger up and down each page until she let a sigh escape her lips. "Nothing."

"Let me see that," Nick grabbed the phonebook from her hands, and flipped through the pages himself. He couldn't believe that she wasn't listed in the book, but what came as more of a surprise to him was that there wasn't one Lambert listed at all. "That's strange," he began. "All of Toronto, and not one Lambert listed here."

"Toronto?" Aislinn questioned. "Is that where you're visiting from?"

Nick began to speak, but thought better of it. Without a word, he flipped the telephone book over, and stared at its cover. In small letters, beneath the advertisements that decorated the front, were the words: For the town of Sydney, Nova Scotia. He paled.

"Are you sure you don't want a cab? It wouldn't be much trouble at all, I just need to know where you're going." Aislinn chased after him.

"That's my problem," he muttered. "I don't know myself where I'm going." He waved to her, and walked from the big glass doors out onto the street. It was just edging on twilight; the streets were dark and deserted.

He had no clue where he was headed now, but he knew in the back of his mind that he needed to get to Toronto, to where he last remembered seeing Natalie. He didn't know what this was pulling at him – whether it was curiosity or love – but it was strong, and he had to find a way to resolve it. He needed to see her, to have her answer his questions. Maybe she could better explain this "accident" to him.

After convincing the girl at the front counter that he desperately needed a flight, Nick was given a ticket on a plane that had just begun to board. He rushed to catch it, giving the attendant his ticket and finding his seat before the pilot came over the P.A. System to announce that they would now be taking off for Toronto, Ontario, and to have a good flight.

It was about an hour into the flight when Nick began to doze. When he fell asleep, all he could dream about was Natalie. Her clear blue eyes, the way they contrasted her dark hair, and shone every time she smiled. The kindness in her soul, and the way she always seemed to care deeply about everyone else before herself.

"Nicholas … Nicholas …"

The booming voice had returned, and was penetrating his dreams. His visions of Natalie disappeared, and a tall, strong man replaced her. His hair was short, white, and straight; his eyes were blue, his face pale and cruel.

Nick opened his eyes, breaking free of the dream that had become a nightmare.

"Problems?" The man next to him asked.

Nick began to answer, turning his head as to see who was seated to his left.

It was him. LaCroix. The evil man he'd dreamt about, the man who haunted his waking hours, and called to him from his sleep.

"What do you want."

"I do not want anything," LaCroix answered, a grin spreading across his face. "I just wish that you would be of the same nature."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?"

LaCroix laughed. "You know who I am, and why I'm here. Don't you, Nicholas."

Nick was about to answer when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. The television screen that hung from the roof of the plane had begun to play again. This time, though, it was not the movie that the pilot had talked about. It was Nick, a raven-haired woman, and LaCroix. The three of them, lurking around, and then – killing. And them all – him included – enjoying the sport of it.

"No," Nick breathed. "I am not what you are."

"Not again, Nicholas. You do know that you are one of us."

He sighed, heavily. "I killed her."

A smile of satisfaction now spread across his face, making his lips curve up slightly at the corners. "How right you are. And do you know why you did it?"

"Because I loved her." What had meant to be a question had somehow come out as a statement instead.

"Because she was a mortal, of course. And because it was impossible for the two of you to be together. Now you must move on and forget that she ever existed. If you arrive on time at the Pearson Airport, there is a flight that will take you back to the Maritimes. I suggest you take it, and settle yourself for a new life."

"I can't do what you ask me to do, LaCroix. I can't forget Natalie, not after everything we went through."

LaCroix was silent before answering, and Nick took this to mean he was pondering the idea. "I'm not asking, I'm telling you, Nicholas. You must move on; you are no longer Detective Knight of the Metro Homicide Police. Although you claim to remember nothing, I know that it is still there within you. It's something that you can never rid yourself of, no matter what the good doctor Lambert tried to tell you."
As he listened to LaCroix speak, Nick attempted to keep contact with the thoughts and feelings that were running through his mind. He again saw the blonde back in Toronto, the pretty one with the bullet in her chest. With a sense of remorse, he knew that he'd killed her, too. Maybe not intentionally, but he had. And Natalie.

"You killed many, Nicholas, as have I," LaCroix replied, as if reading his thoughts. "It is a part of what we do – who we are. If you know what's good for you, you'll accompany me back on that plane to Nova Scotia, and we can begin another life, just as we always have. We can make Toronto just another of those thousands of towns we graced through our travels.

"No," Nick whispered. "I won't go with you, I won't do what you are asking. I have to find Natalie; I have to make peace with her. Everything will be fine if I can just get to her in time."

"She is gone."

"No she's not," he growled. "Nobody is ever really gone, and I'm not going anywhere without her by my side. I made a promise, LaCroix, and I intend to keep it."

"Fine," LaCroix began. "But be warned, the people of Toronto are not exactly in spirits with you, now are they. To them, you are a cold-blooded murderer, and they will not treat you with respect when they find you have returned."

"Then I just won't let them find out."

"Hmm," his lips curled with distaste again. "If that is your choice. But you will pay, Nicholas, for the pain you have caused this old heart, and the heart of your community. Just watch your back…"

Nick glanced away for a mere second, but when he turned back he saw that the seat to his left was empty. "Excuse me, sir," he addressed the man across the aisle. "Do you recall who was seated here beside me?"

The man gave him an odd look, and returned to the book in his lap. "That seat's been empty this flight," he replied without looking up.

Something wasn't right with this picture. It all started when he'd awoke to find Aislinn in his hospital room back in Nova Scotia. How had he gotten there in the first place, if he lived in Toronto? And why was he really headed back, knowing what he did about Natalie. He couldn't find her there, in the Coroner's Building where she so loved to work. She was gone, LaCroix had been right; she had disappeared along with the others whose lives he'd destroyed. And nothing could be done to bring them back.

When the plane docked at Pearson Airport, Nick rushed through the boarding canal. In less than ten minutes, he had caught a cab and was on his way into the city. He wasn't sure at first where to head, seeing as though LaCroix had been right about the city of Toronto having a bone to pick with him. He would have been safe in the Coroner's Building with Grace – except for the fact that according to her, he had killed her closest colleague. The only other place that immediately entered his mind had been the loft.

After tipping the driver, whom Nick thought drove quite like a maniac anyhow, he made his way toward the loft. It was obvious that nobody had been here of late, since his old password still brought the lift down. When he reached the top floor, he threw open the door to reveal a homely looking apartment. The furniture was quite new, providing a stark contrast to the other antiques that cluttered the shelves. An old porcelain doll, and oil paintings that showed colors mixing with one and other in perfect harmony. The fireplace, where Nick recalled sitting with Natalie many times – the flames illuminating her beautifully detailed face.

His eyes next fell upon a long stick with a wooden point, lying upon the floor; and a cross, handmade and dating back in the centuries. Faith. And Natalie. Her faith – in him, in what she believed could be an ending to it all. And LaCroix, coming to take him away from everything – Natalie included. The sweet Natalie who lay on the rug, her head tilted, long hair covering the two small bite wounds on her neck that he had inflicted.

It was just a simple request, that he take her with him wherever he was going. But where Nick knew he was headed, he didn't want to subject her to. She would never survive it – the killing, and the loss of innocence. And he could not bring himself to do it to her.

He remembered LaCroix standing before him, demanding that he make a choice, and make it quick. The sun will rise soon, he had said, and we must be gone before it. Kill her or bring her across. Both of which he couldn't do. There was a way, though – a solution that even Natalie herself had suggested. He'd handed the long pointed stick to LaCroix without a word or explanation. But LaCroix had understood him fully, and knew what his son was asking for.

Yet even with the weapon raised above his back, positioned so that it would pierce his heart, killing him for good, LaCroix knew he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even with those words spoken, "Damn you," he couldn't. This was his child, the one that he had chosen to bring across so many centuries before. Though Nick had brought so much pain through all the years, and had practically gone behind his back on everything – including what he was – LaCroix knew that he was still a part of him, and something that he couldn't destroy.

Nick had sensed his pause, and with swift movements had spun around and taken the stake from his master's hand. Without a moment of reconsideration to himself, he'd plunged the point through his own chest – and felt the glorious moment that it pierced his heart. Surprisingly, it hadn't been as painful as he'd expected, and had been rather peaceful.

He'd fallen back onto the ground, beside Natalie's now still form. He put his arms around her, and took one last look around the apartment. LaCroix still stood above him, the realization of what'd just happened was sinking in now, and there was a tear in his eye. Nick managed a nod, a sign to his master that everything would be alright, and that he was to move on and continue life. His children were all dead now, but at peace with themselves. Perhaps it was his turn to find the desirable, to follow his stone-cold heart for once.

As he watched LaCroix take off, Nick felt himself fading. He didn't know what awaited him on the other side – a room full of fire, or a life of eternal bliss. But with his hand now in Natalie's hair, his lips against her cheek – he was ready to find out.

Blur. That was what Nick saw before he realized that he was back in the loft, staring onto the floor before him, the place where he had just watched the horrid scene replayed. And he knew now everything that had been going on. The hospital, the "accident" that had somehow been staged. But he was dead, and this he now understood.

It was a few seconds before he realized someone stood behind him again. LaCroix, he thought, come to say a final goodbye. Nick had been thinking about the eternal bliss he had imagined – was this it? Was this what he had taken Natalie's life for? Just another world, another life for himself?

"Aislinn."

She stood before him now, her yellow labcoat replaced by a flowing yellow dress. Her hair was free, and tumbled down her back – curly and soft as Natalie's had been.

"You now understand, don't you Nicholas," she began. "You figured out the events that have led you here."

Nick shook his head. "I don't. I know that I've died, but I still can't figure out why I'm here."

"It was a test, Nicholas. We had to be sure that you really were the changed man that your Natalie believed you were. And it wasn't until then – this moment now – that we could give you what a person like yourself deserves."

"An eternity of hell," he whispered, his brows furrowed. "For all those deaths I caused. That's what it is, isn't it. That was the test, to see where I would go from here."

"No," she shook her head. "It was a test of love, your love for Natalie. We can now offer you a choice – a choice that you, and only you must decide upon."

"What," he breathed.

"You can go back, and relive that April 14th when you took the life of your beloved Natalie. You can change things, make another attempt if that is what you so desire."

"Or?" He questioned.

"Or, you can pass on – and be willing to take whatever meets you on the other side." She was silent before continuing. "It is a test of Faith now, Nicholas. Of what your beliefs are telling you, and what you believe you deserve."

Nick considered the options. If he chose to go back to that day, things would not be much different. He knew that the same circumstances would arise, that he would feed too much again and take her within an inch of her life. He wouldn't submit her to that again. But crossing over – there wasn't much chance with that either. Nick knew from past experiences that he hadn't been the best Christian – mind you, person – around. If one were to review his life, and somebody obviously had, they would not come to the conclusion that this man belonged in bliss.

"Nick, I have faith in you," Natalie's voice rang in his ears. It was almost as though she was there with him now, her head over his shoulder as always, telling him what she thought. If she had enough faith to believe in the divinity of life – than wasn't it worth a try for him as well?

"I can't go back," he said towards Aislinn. "I just can't risk it."

She nodded. "If that is what you so choose, then," she began to walk away from him, fading as she did so.

"Wait!" He called.

She turned around, her clear blue eyes meeting his.

"Wish me luck," he grinned.

She returned his smile, and kept on walking. "Good luck, Nicholas, good luck," her sweet voice could be heard; though she was no longer in sight.

Nick seated himself upon the bench of his piano. He had a full view of the room from there, and could catch whatever was awaiting him. However, after twenty minutes of only silence, he became convinced that this was his fate. Although to the naked eye, it might be taken as just a passing stage – to him, this was his hell. A life alone without Natalie by his side.

He turned into the piano, and began to pick out a tune. It was something that he had often played, a sad concerto that matched the mood he was usually in. He had played it many times while contemplating leaving Toronto – and somehow Natalie had always shown up.

As he grew further into the piece, Nick began to feel again that oft-familiar presence behind him. But this time, there was no threat, no utter feeling of distaste that he got when it was LaCroix in his presence. It had to be Aislinn; back to lead him into the hell he knew was awaiting.

But turning around slightly in his seat, he saw that the person who stood before him was not Aislinn, nor was it LaCroix. Rather…

"Natalie," her name across his lips made them tingle. "Nat…"

"Oh, Nick," she rushed towards him, as he got up to meet her embrace. Her arms were instantly around his waist, her face falling into his shirtfront. The tears tumbled down her cheeks, soaking into his blazer. "I thought I'd lost you for sure. When I awoke and you weren't there I … what happened?"

"I don't know, Nat," he kissed the top of her head, and held her soft hair between his fingers. "But that's all behind us now. I think our greatest wish has come true – we're free."

As Natalie looked up into his face, she realized for the first time what she was seeing. Not the vampire who'd taken so many lives, and had come to her for help in regaining his mortality. But Nick Knight, the kind man she loved, and had given up her life to be with. "We have so much to catch up on," she whispered.

"And I still have forever," he said, softly.

"No we," she replied, taking his hand between hers. "Have forever."

They walked off together, hand in hand, into the dazzling sunrise that awaited them.