Note: See Part 1 for all pertinent info and the disclaimer.



Part 8

Tuesday, November 25, 2003
Rodi's

Natalie started re-organizing the bottles of liquor behind the bar. She glanced up at the mirror angled over her head and saw John's reflection. Coolly, "You just missed last call."

He shrugged, "I just stopped by to see how you're doing."

She turned around, "I thought we had covered this. I don't need you checking up on me. Not to see how I'm doing in the wake of my husband's tragic death and not to make sure I don't put myself in the path of a serial killer or any other homicidal maniacs. I've had my fill, okay? Plus, I'm not really scared of the Music Box Killer and I doubt that I'm even on his radar."

"Everyone else is scared of him."

"I've dealt with two evil psychotic Laurence brothers, my long believed to have been dead grandfather being alive and trying to cut my heart out, a convicted felon who decided to hold me and few other women hostage in the diner, a mother-in-law who used to hate me with a passion, and growing up with Roxy as a mother. Yeah, the fact that there's a serial killer lurking around town killing innocent women is frightening. But the killer himself? Scares me about as much as a bad dye job."

"Are you serious?" His tone was a mixture of disbelief, bemusement, and amusement.

"Yeah." She paused as she eyed the three remaining customers. She lowered her voice, "You couldn't protect me from Flynn. You couldn't save Cristian from Flynn. You knew we were in danger then. I'm not in any sort of danger now. I don't take dance classes, I don't strip, I don't give lap dances nor have I ever. I don't need or want you to try and protect or save me from the Music Box Killer and every other evil and danger in the world just because you couldn't when you should have."

He looked wounded as he rubbed his forehead, "Just out of curiosity, do you think that there's a chance that you'll stop hating me for what happened in Vegas? I understand if you don't but -- it's a little more difficult. I wasn't expecting to still be here."

"Running into the widow so often gets your guilt going?"

John looked down, "Yeah."

She folded her arms across her chest, "I've been doing a lot of thinking about things -- everything. And I've started reaching a few conclusions. Can I get past the fact that you're partly responsible for Cristian's death and maybe even forgive you? I think that one day, yeah, maybe. Am I still mad at you? Yes. But not because of that. I'm still extremely upset with you because of Cristian's death but I can deal with that. I am dealing with it. But there are some things that I can't deal with, that I can't get over."

"Like what?"

She stared at him for a moment then blinked and glanced around the room. One man was left at the end of the bar. She glanced at the clock, "Excuse me? Closing time."

The man looked up at the clock, slightly irritated, then at her then at John and finished the rest of his drink before mumbling something and tossing some money onto the bar. He slid off the stool and glanced at them again as he walked out.

Natalie silently grabbed a tray and walked out from behind the bar to gather the glasses and bottles and money off the tables.

John turned around and watched her. He stuck his hands in his pockets, "Do I get an answer?"

She narrowed her eyes at him as she walked back around the bar and then into the kitchen. She came back out and looked at him for a minute. He was just standing there, waiting for an answer. She sighed. "I trusted you. I wouldn't have went with you -- alone -- to Philly that first night that we met if I hadn't. I trusted you because you knew Rack 'Em and I trusted him because he was an old friend of Max's. I trusted Max because he was my coach; he had faith in me and he was kind to me even though there used to be a lot of bad blood between me and his son. I know that I shouldn't have trusted you -- you never really gave me a reason to. Cristian didn't trust you. But I gave you the benefit of the doubt, which is something I'm still not used to doing, because I didn't have that gut feeling when I met you. That -- I don't know -- that instinct or intuition that you weren't on the level. And I've had that feeling before and the few times that I ignored it and gave people the benefit of the doubt anyway -- I ended up regretting it more than you could possibly know. For some reason, you didn't set off my internal sensors, not at the beginning, not until you started in with the threats. But then you'd apologize and I figured, 'What the hell? He seems sincere,' so I'd let it go. But then in Vegas -- you threatened my life and you threatened the life of the man I love if I didn't throw that tournament and if I told him. And it was then that I stopped trusting you. And then finding out that you were an FBI agent and that you'd been using me the whole time? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to trust people? I have been majorly snowballed by four people that I trusted in the past year and a half. People who I thought were my friends and cared about me. I trusted you and you lied to me. You used me. You betrayed me. My trust, my confidence. I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to forgive you for that. And I don't think I'll ever be able to trust you again."

He nodded, "It's a lot to ask for. A second chance."

"Maybe it's hypocritical of me not to give you one -- God knows how many second and third and fourth chances I've gotten from people in this town after all the lies that I told and the pain that I caused -- but," she paused and shook her head, "right now, at this point, I just don't see that happening. And, I don't know, maybe you can deal with that. Maybe my one day forgiving you for Cristian's death is enough for you. And maybe you just need me to do that so that you can forgive yourself. I know that you feel guilty. I feel guilty."

He studied her, "Why do you feel guilty?"

She pressed her lips together and stared at the bar. "I have played those days in Vegas in my mind over and over so many times and I think about what I could have done differently at any time that would have changed the way that things turned out. If I'd just thrown the tournament, if I hadn't attacked you when Flynn was on the ground, if I hadn't tried to run to Cristian when he walked in. And I also think what if Cristian hadn't walked in when he did. What if he hadn't barged into the cabin with the money? What if he hadn't tried to attack Flynn? What if he hadn't saved Flynn's life? But then of course I think about what you could have done. What if you had told me who you really were in the elevator? What if you'd taken me and Jess out of the room when Flynn ordered you to kill us?" she looked at John, tears in her eyes, "All you had to do was take us out of the room and once you'd done that, you could've contacted your back up or whatever. They couldn't have been too far away. They could've caught Flynn if he would've tried to run." She averted her eyes once again, "What if you hadn't turned your back to Flynn when he wasn't restrained?"

"You have no idea how much I regret the way I handled that situation. If I could change --"

She looked at him, "But you can't. That's it. No matter how much I regret the decisions I made, no matter how much you regret the decisions you made, it doesn't change what's already happened. It's taken me a while but I'm starting to realize that. What-if and woulda, shoulda, coulda doesn't change a thing. It doesn't help. And it's a waste of time." She started to turn around then stopped, "You've told me you're sorry so many times that I've lost count. Your words don't mean anything to me and it's a waste of breath and there's nothing you can do or say that's going to make me feel any differently." She squinted, "And you seem like you are one of the good guys --"

"And I am," he cut in. "If you knew me --"

"That's just it, John! I don't know you," Natalie said, throwing her hands up, exasperated. "I had thought that I was getting to know you. I had no idea that the guy I spent hours talking to while practicing and traveling to and from competitions wasn't real and was telling me lies. I thought that we were getting to know each other. And it turns out that I don't know you -- at all. I know a few real things about you but that's it. I don't know the real you. And I can't get to know the real you because there's always going to be a part of me wondering if you're really telling me the truth. You can swear that you are but…"

He sighed, "You won't believe me."

Natalie shrugged as she started cleaning behind the bar, "What does it matter anyway, you know? I mean, sooner or later the Music Box Killer is going to opt for a change of scenery or get caught. Either way you'll be leaving town and we'll probably never see each other again." For a moment, she thought she saw something along the lines of disappointment, and possibly even hurt, in his eyes.

He pursed his lips together. "When you put it like that, I guess you're right. It really doesn't matter. I mean, you are right. Once this case is closed or it moves, I will be leaving Llanview. I just guess -- I guess that I thought that maybe we could be friends and I get it that we can't. But I hope that we can get along at least. While I am here."

Natalie chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about it. "We can try. I can't promise you that I'll always be civil towards you. Sometimes it just hits me -- what happened -- and there are a lot of emotions tied up with that."

"I understand."

"Okay."

John tried not to smile. He was making a little progress. "So, I'll see you around."

"Guess so."

"Take care."

"You too."

She watched him walk out of the bar and slowly exhaled. She leaned forward, her elbows on the bar, "Forgiveness. We'll see how that works out."