Disclaimer: I don't own The Guardian or it's characters. I do, however, own this story and I'll put everyone back where they belong once I'm done writing.
Author's Note: This story is a bit AU… I've taken the liberty of explaining how Nick's mother actually died and how Nick responds.
Days Gone By by PeaceJaw
Everyone who knows me also knew my father.
And if they knew my father, they also knew why I hated him.
He killed my mother and got away with it. Oh sure, there were extraordinary circumstances that helped him receive a light sentence, but the fact remains he killed my mother. And I have never been able to forgive him. I never will, either.
When I first learned what he did, I wanted to break down and cry right then and there. Then fear and anger seized me and I truly wanted to do more than what I was capable of at that early age. If my father could and would do that to my mother, though, what would he do to me? Thankfully I didn't have to find that out for myself because shortly after the funeral was over, he shipped me off to boarding school. I was so angry with my father… not just because he killed my mother, but because he didn't want me around to remind him of my mother. At least I know now that I was also feeling guilty for not protecting my mother…
I should have known that he was capable of cold-blooded murder. I really should have expected his actions. I also should have been prepared for what happened. After all, I had seen what he was capable of long before my mother's death. But I was caught off guard … so there wasn't a lot that I could have done.
No more.
I distanced myself as best as I could from my father after my mother's death. There wasn't much that I could do about his constant interference in my life, though, so I simply withdrew emotionally from everyone and everything around me. He didn't seem to notice and if he did, he simply didn't seem to care; so much for having a loving, caring father.
Last year, when my father grew sick with cancer, I went to his bedside and watched him die. A part of me was actually glad to see that he suffered a great deal of pain – both physically and emotionally. Another part of me, sadly, was upset that I was actually being left an orphan once again. Who knew that would actually happen to someone like me? Certainly I did not.
Everyone who knows me knows that when my father died, I felt like I had failed once again. I felt like I had failed my mother, my father, and myself for not making peace with my father and not forgiving him for what he did. Yet I also know that I could have never worked up the courage to do a thing about it. Where does that me then?
I guess that it leaves me trying to figure out how to move on with my life.
The End! – Feb., 2003; Updated September 2004