Requiem for a Knight
Author's Notes:
This is a NNPacker story (heh, gee what a surprise) that is very Nick-centric. This is not a happy story, so be warned. It is not a continuation of my When Darkness Falls series, just thought I should make that clear. I wrote this one night when I was struck with the question, what would Nick do if (you can fill this part in as you read, I don't want to spoil it)? In the series timeline, this story follows series canon until late in the second season. It splits off around Be My Valentine and assumes that LaCroix didn't interfere with Nick and Nat's budding relationship.
Warning: Character death.
LaCroix Reflects
Life isn't fair is it, gentle reader? It is funny to think of the universe as having a cruel sense of humor. But alas, I assure you, it does. Most cruel. The paupers on the street, the abandoned children, the murdered victims of today's unkind world, they will all attest to the truth of my statement.
It's simple really. You don't always get what you want. In fact, getting what you want should be considered a delicacy of fine cuisine, to be tasted and relished when one has the rare chance to sample it. Alas, my poor Nicholas learned that lesson too late.
He allowed himself to love. Love... An infectious thing, an awful disease of the heart that is bound to attack almost any mortal. How it rips at the heart and grates the soul. I learned to spare such feeling for only special occasions. But Nicholas gave it freely, and he paid a terrible price.
And so observe, dear reader, this sad tale of woe, more so than Juliet and her Romeo...
The Tale Begins
The alarm woke him up. Monotonous, ringing, shrill, and most annoying it was... But it reminded him to get up. In fact, if it weren't for that wretched noise, he might never get out of bed. It was too hard.
Not yet opening his eyes to the harsh light, he groaned and slapped blindly at the merciless contraption. It fell to the floor with a thump, shutting itself off in the process. Silence. Blessed silence. He sighed in relief and lay there quietly breathing with his hands over his eyes, trying to convince himself to just get up and get it over with. He didn't want to... He knew that the moment he opened his eyes he would be greeted with something that reminded him of her.
Everything reminded him of her. Her. Natalie. But it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now... He shrugged his hands off his face and took a deep breath, cleansing his stale lungs. He would get up and force himself to face another day.
Nick opened his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he sat up to embrace the land of the living. Blinking rapidly, he felt his eyes water while they attempted to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming in through his windows and landing in glorious patches on the floor. His body had still not adapted to his new lifestyle, even after so many months. He groaned as he stretched his aching muscles and attempted to rub the sleep away from his eyes with his hands. Yawning widely, he brushed his mop of unruly blond hair away from his face with a swipe of his right hand. God, he was so tired. So very tired... He just wanted to go back to sleep and never wake up. At least that would end his eternal pain.
A tiny, wretched sob escaped his lips as small soft tears began to stream down his cheeks. Nick quickly brushed them from his eyes, trying to deny that they were there. But they were real. His grief... well that was real too. Crying, it seemed, had become part of his morning ritual.
He pushed himself off his bed forcibly, the muscles in his arms shaking slightly with the effort. He had really allowed himself to get out of shape... He'd never had to exercise before. Perhaps he could simply allow himself to waste away into nothing... Nick cursed lightly as he bent over with a groan and pulled on a wrinkled, dirty pair of jeans that he had left on the floor the night before, and a slightly unkempt black shirt.
He tried so desperately hard to forget her. But day in and day out, his thoughts were of her, and he knew it was killing him. The nightmares had practically made him an insomniac, exhausting his energy to dangerously low levels, but even worse was the food. His newly reactivated digestive system was very finicky. Half the time he simply didn't bother to eat. At least he didn't get sick when he did that... But Schanke had begun to notice that he was losing weight and his coworkers had tried to get him to seek help.
He didn't. He knew that whatever some silly YUPPIE psychiatrist thought he could do to help him would be as far from helpful as anything on this earth could get. How could a thirty-something individual even begin to understand Nick's eight hundred years of pain? When he had met Nat he'd been on a very fine edge, and losing her had been the final straw, the event that dropped him into the pit of despair he'd been so desperately running from since 1228. How could a psychiatrist understand that? It was simple. They couldn't.
As he finished dressing and wandered blindly into the bathroom, he sighed again. A hopeless, lifeless exhalation of breath. What day was it? He didn't know. He never seemed to know anymore, what was the point? With a squint, he saw from his digital wristwatch that it was April 17th. Three whole months. Had it been that long already?
Flashback - Three Months Previous
"Nick, are you all right?" Nat questioned, her voice betraying her concern as they walked through the busy airport. It was dawn, and the sun was already peaking out from behind the horizon like a child playing hide and seek. If she didn't get on the plane soon, Nick would fry since he was so intent on waiting to see her off... She wondered if he realized just how much he was worrying her by threatening to do a wonderful rendition of a flaming match head. He probably didn't. He could be so incredibly dense...
"Yeah, Nat. I'm fine. I just wish you didn't have to go..." he said, dejectedly as he looked softly into her eyes. He so desperately wanted to accompany her to Quebec for the seminar on DNA splicing. Anything to spend more time with her. He would have sat through the most boring coroners' seminar on the planet if it meant he could spend more time with her. But he couldn't go this time. There were no planes leaving after dark that had space left, and there just simply hadn't been enough notice for him to pull any strings.
"Well, you'll have more to look forward to when I get back!" she said suggestively, drawing him into a passionate kiss.
When he felt her steady arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and her moist lips covering his own, Nick groaned in pleasure, wondering what on earth he had ever done to deserve such a beautiful, wonderful woman. He broke from the kiss gently and looked deeply into her eyes. "Is that a promise?" he asked, hopefully, his eyes sparkling with a boyish confidence.
She smiled. "Ooooooh yes," she said as she patted his lips with her index finger for emphasis. "I'm foreseeing that I'll be so distraught by the lack of your company that by the time I get back I'll be desperate," she said sincerely, though her eyes grew more and more worried as she glanced at the rising sun through the expansive glass windows of the large terminal. Nick really needed to find cover. Now.
Nick paid her obvious worry no mind as he smiled at her with a mischievous look in his eyes. "I'll definitely hold you to that, Natalie Lambert!"
She leaned in, her hands running through his mass of unruly blond curls, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'm counting on it. Now skat! Before you become a charcoal briquette!" She forcefully spun him around and pushed him away with a playful shove.
Nick glanced back and grinned lopsidedly, his eyes taking on a guilty puppy look. "Ok Nat, I can take the hint. Bye!" he said as headed back in the direction that they had come from. He was just in time too. The sunlight was starting to burn as it kissed his back, but luckily the dark haven of the unwindowed section was not far. He would have to stay in the underground portion of the airport for the day.
He remembered hearing her say "Goodbye!", waving frantically as he walked down the ramp and she disappeared from his view...
The Present
Goodbye. If only he had known it would be a permanent one and not the prelude to a sweet reunion he had originally thought it would be. He let out a soft, muffled sob. It was all just wishful thinking.
That was the last he ever saw of her. Those were the last words he had spoken to her. Nat was dead. The thought turned his insides cold as it echoed through his head. Dead. The plane had never landed in Quebec... Nick squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the sound of the plane exploding on the runway again. It echoed through his head like a thundershower of jackhammers and he covered his ears as if it would drown out what his mind replayed for him, over and over again. He screamed in frustration as it persisted until finally, it was silent.
"Oh Nat," he said with a choked sob, his breath coming in short ragged gasps. "Why did you have to get on that plane?" He put his face to in his hands, leaning his hips heavily on the black porcelain sink. It was almost laughable how cruel life could be. He had always pictured himself to be the one leaving Nat, forced to leave when his immortality made it too hard for him to stay.
It had always broken his heart to think of it, but even as he had pursued a relationship with her, the back of his mind was reminding him that it would have to happen eventually. It always did. But that's not what fate had decided for him and his damned quest for mortality. It seemed intent to punish him from afar, finally answering his eight-hundred- year-old prayer only to strip away his reason for wanting it...
He splashed cold water from the sink into his face in hopes that it would wash away his grief. It didn't. As usual, the shock of cold only took away the numbness that his sleepiness provided him and replaced it with the shaky unsettled feeling that his degraded state of health provided for him.
Nick looked in the mirror with a stony glare, barely caring how terrible his twin on the other side of the glass looked. He was unshaven, a generous amount of stubble scattered about his face. His bloodshot eyes and gaunt, haggardly pale face also did nothing but compliment his unhealthy appearance. He curled his lip up in a look of self-disgust.
It wasn't fair. Why the Hell was he here? Natalie had had her whole life ahead of her and he had more than eight lifetimes behind him. Yet, he had been spared. And she hadn't. What kind of cruel game did the universe play? It just wasn't fair.
He absently grabbed his toothbrush out of its holder with one hand and the half-used tube of toothpaste from the side of the sink with the other. Providing his toothbrush with a generous blob of toothpaste, he continued to stare at his reflection. His reflection. He narrowed his eyes. It never failed now. It was always there. Always there to remind him just how terrible he looked. He didn't need to die to go to Hell, he was already there.
As he brushed his teeth, he turned to look out the paned window at the magnificent blue sky and glaring sun. When he saw the giant golden circle alight in the sky, he paused with his toothbrush, simply staring at it in wonder. It was warm on his face and he closed his eyes as he let it wash over him, setting fire to his golden locks with brilliant splashes of light.
The light brought tears to his eyes, but not from physical pain. A sob erupted outward from the pit of his chest like a geyser. He'd never gotten to see Nat in the sun. God, how he'd wanted to see her wonderful brown curls alight in the rays that up until three months ago would have meant his most painful death. Nearly choking on his toothpaste when another sob wracked his body, Nick quickly turned around and spit into the sink. He watched the pasty liquid trail in slow, curving, oozing paths towards the drain of the sink.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but disobeying salty tears continued to stream down his cheek. He had loved her so much. So very much. She had been his soul, his reason for living. When she had died... it was as if his own unbeating heart had been ripped from his chest. That was when fate had played it's cruelest joke ever. He had originally thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but as he had stood there giving Nat's eulogy to a crowd of teary eyed friends, family, and coworkers, his heart began to beat after virtually eight-hundred years of silence.
Flashback - Three Months Previous
Nick walked somberly up towards the front of the church, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach brought on by the religious symbols that littered the aisles, walls, and just about everything else. He would not allow his vampiric weaknesses to stop him from being there for Nat... Forcing his fear of the religious symbols down into the pit of his being he glanced around at the church. The small building was alight with thousands of glowing candles, their light reflecting off the stained glass windows like sunrays through the facets of a crystal.
As per his request, they had decided to hold the funeral in the evening so that he would not have to risk the sunlight. It really was a lovely evening service. Natalie would've thought it beautiful, exactly as she would've wanted it. He avoided looking at the open, lacey white casket as he approached the pulpit. Luckily, due to her position on the plane, her body had been recovered in one, fairly intact piece, which was more than most of the grieving families from the crash were given. But he knew that if he were to look and see her body lying there cold and lifeless amongst the white satin in the interior of the coffin, he'd lose it for certain.
Closing his eyes to gain his composure, he situated himself where the minister had just been as he had lead a prayer. Clearing his throat softly, he looked out over the crowd of people. They were silent, waiting for him to speak. He saw Schanke looking at him sincerely from the back of church with a look of encouragement in his eyes and he felt compelled to being speaking, but for some reason he could not find his voice. It was as if it had been lost in the void of his own grief. That was when Nick's vision started to fail as tears watered in his eyes and threatened to begin their trek down his pale cheeks..
Nick closed his eyes, not letting the tears fall. While his body was desperate to express his sadness, he simply couldn't allow it. If he were to cry here, in public, people would surely notice the red blood tears. He gulped, envisioning the horrified reactions he would receive if that were to happen. He would have to save his grief for Nat for later, when he was alone.
He began his short prepared speech quietly, barely trusting his own voice to function. "Nat... Nat was a wonderful friend to all of us. What can I say about her?" he said, his prepared speech suddenly becoming lost somewhere in the dark corners of his mind. He choked on a sob, he couldn't do this... But he forced himself to continue, glazing his eyes over and looking at the crowd, but not really looking. "She was kind to everyone, her cheerful presence always brightened the room. Generous, never selfish, and always thinking of others before herself, she found a place in each and every one of our hearts..." he ended his sentence in a pained gasp.
Pausing his speech momentarily, Nick felt a lump forming in his throat. The queasiness in his stomach was increasing to a rather uncomfortable level, but he continued to ignore it. He had to do this for her. Looking at the crowd, he noticed that people were beginning to whisper during his long pause. He even overheard someone wondering aloud if Nick was going to make it through his speech.
Nick knew that he couldn't stay up there in the pulpit much longer, so he tried to wrap up much sooner than he had planned. He only hoped that Nat would understand. "We will miss her very much, I know how much everyone loved her..." his voice was running out of volume as he continued onward, "God knows that I loved her more than my own life..." his voice finally died in a tiny, heart-wrenching gasp as he sobbed aloud.
That was when it happened. He felt his chest constrict and there was a blast of pain that started in his chest and seeped outward towards the tips of his fingers and toes. Shaking with fear, he squeezed his eyes shut as waves of nausea roller-coasted through his system. Feeling like he had been hit by a semi, he threw his torso forward with a grunt and gripped the sides of the pulpit with shaky, white- knuckled hands. He swallowed thickly. Hearing the familiar loud racing 'thump-thump' of a beating human heart in his ears, he grew alarmed that he had allowed the vampire to be released.
He finally dared to open his eyes, confident that they were not the glowing amber of his beastly counterpart. Glancing up at the crowd of mourners, he saw only looks of concern, not ones of fear. That was when he figured out that it was his own heart thumping in his ears. It was gone. The vampire was completely gone. Nick let out a startled gasp, breathing heavily as he tried to gain his equilibrium. It was a failed effort. He clutched his sides, feeling as if they were about to burst.
In a pained, wavering voice, he managed to say, "I'm sorry, I can't continue..." before he collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.
The Present
Although the crowd had merely thought him to be sick with grief, he knew better. He had spent the entire night miserably regurgitating the blood he had drank for his last few meals, sobbing with clear salty tears in-between trips to the bathroom.
Schanke had stayed with him that night, trying to comfort him like any friend would feel obligated to, but Nick hadn't allowed himself to be consoled. He deserved to be miserable. God had given him a miracle when he could have better used it with Nat. But who was he to question God? Perhaps instead of a miracle, this newfound mortality was intended to be punishment. If that was the purpose, then it had certainly succeeded.
Nick sighed, his breath catching in his lungs when he felt the tears threaten to fall again. Sinking to the floor, he sobbed again, shaking as he collapsed. He let out an anguished cry as he crumpled onto the floor with his knees bent and his arms out in front of him almost as if he were praying. He couldn't go on like this! This was no way to live. Not even for him. He preferred the thought of burning eternally in Hell for his countless sins over the pain of Nat's death.
He sat up on the cold tile floor, his eyes squeezed shut. "Nat, why did you have to go? I miss you Nat..." he moaned softly as he continued to tremble violently, his body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. Through his tears, he prayed to God for an end. Any end.
The phone rang, interrupting his private Hell. He didn't care. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Never again. He wanted to lock himself away in his loft and never come out, to waste away into nothing. What was the point of going to work? It's not like he was doing the world any good by showing up at work and doing nothing but mope...
For some reason though, his legs forced him up off the floor and over to the cordless black phone by his bed. Picking up the damned noisy thing before it had a chance to intrude upon the cold silence of the loft once more, he answered with a shaky, "Hello?"
It was Schanke on the other end. "Nick? You sound terrible..." his partner's voice said, filled with concern.
Nick grew cold as he listened to his partner. He didn't deserve such concern. "Well thank you so much for your sympathy, Schanke," Nick said, his voice flat and hopeless. He didn't want sympathy. He wanted death.
There was silence on the other end of the line as Schanke was apparently formulating what to say. "Nick, you can't keep acting like this. She's gone, you've got to get on with your life," Schanke suggested, hesitantly. He had said it many times before and had always gotten the same reaction.
Nick's eyes opened wide as he stared off at some unknown point in the loft. The wall in front of him blurred as he allowed his eyes to lose focus. "You know I can't, Schanke..." he said, the grief cutting into his tone like a razorblade. "I can't," he added in a hoarse whisper.
"Nick..." Schanke began with an annoyed tone that simply screamed, 'I can't believe you're doing this again'.
Nick cut him off. "Listen, Schanke. Book me off, ok? I don't think I can come in today..." he said, a sob breaking his speech off at the end. He knew that Schanke would comply even if he didn't agree with what Nick was doing. He had always done so in the past.
"Yeah sure, Nick. See you later..." Schanke said, a hopelessness entering his voice to compliment Nick's grief. It sounded almost like Schanke was finally giving up on him, and that was just as well.
Nick didn't bother to say goodbye, placing the phone back on the hook softly. It was just too goddamned hard. Why did it have to be so hard? He growled in sudden rage, throwing the phone across the room with a mighty heave. It smashed against the wall with a broken disjointed beep and fell to the floor with a loud, echoing thump. Surprisingly, it was still in one piece after its fall. His throw had lacked his former vampiric strength, otherwise it would've been smashed to pieces.
He approached the window in his bedroom with a look of anger. "Why did you have to do this to me? You could've changed me back earlier!" he shouted at the bright blue sky angrily, shaking his fists at his unseen oppressor. The sun merely showered more bright rays upon his withered figure, taunting him with its warm cheerfulness.
"I can't do this anymore... I just can't..." he sobbed quietly as he lowered his head to stare at the floor. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!
He turned his head and looked at the drawer situated in his nightstand by his bed. Maybe this time he could go through with it... He approached the wooden drawer as it stared at him, daring him, begging him to come closer and open it.
With a light tug, Nick pulled the drawer towards him and picked up the deadly object in it with an almost holy reverence. He rubbed it against his cheek slowly as if it were his lover, inhaling the acrid scent of gunpowder emanating from its muzzle. A loud click echoed through the loft and bounced off the walls as he cocked it. He put the Beretta 9mm to his temple, his finger frozen on the trigger, knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip on the stock.
Closing his eyes, he applied a slight pressure to the trigger, feeling the muzzle of the gun dig into him as he jammed it harder into the side of his forehead. His hand shook and his body tensed as he let out a soft moan. All he had to do was pull the trigger a little harder and his pain would be over. He stood there shaking. He was so ready... But he couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Nick lowered the weapon from his head, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He put the gun down softly on his bed.
He would visit Nat's grave and talk to her for awhile. Maybe then he would be able to do it. He so desperately wanted to, but he had lacked the courage to go through with it yet again. "God, help me!" he cried with an anguished sob as he walked down the stairs and swiftly out the door.
He hadn't even thought to realize someone might be listening to his plea...
Natalie arrived with a brilliant flash of light into the loft. The air crackled with unseen power as she materialized, but she paid it no mind. She looked around to confirm she'd been dropped at the correct destination. She had been. Her heart did a little flutter when she saw the loft, empty and bleak like it usually was, although she noticed that it had become a bit more untidy since she had last seen it. She didn't dwell on that, however. It had been so long since she had seen him! Her jubilance nearly lifted her off the ground. She smiled, her pearly white teeth displayed quite clearly. The smile, however, was quickly turned to a worried frown.
"God, help me!" Natalie's heart wrenched in her chest when she heard Nick's hopeless cry cut through the air like a knife. So that's why They had sent her back... She'd been duly warned that Nick was not quite himself, and she should have known Nick would not take her loss lightly, but nothing prepared her for what she saw next.
Her eyes widened when she saw Nick stumbling down the staircase, unshaven and generally unwell looking. "Oh, Nick!" she cried in alarm, her hands flying to her cheeks in shock.
He didn't hear her. That was to be expected though. They had told her that her clients wouldn't be able to see or hear her.
When he stepped into the elevator, she followed him quickly. Looking at his face, she could still see traces of the angelic innocence that had been there on the last day she had seen him, but his grief had overpowered it for the most part. His hair was beyond repair, completely unkempt, and the rest of him wasn't all that well taken care of either.
He was emaciated and haggard, and it broke her heart to see that her death had taken such a terrible toll on him. She watched him as he stood there with his eyes shut as if in pain, his chaotic breathing indicating that he was valiantly trying not to cry. Finally he stilled, gaining some composure, and she approached him hesitantly.
She touched the still wet tear tracks that trailed down his cheek with a light sweep of her fingernail. God, how she just wanted to sweep him away in her arms and never let anything hurt him again... Her lip trembled. This was all her fault! But she couldn't worry about that now, she had been sent to help him. She placed the palm of her hand on the flat of his chest. "Nick... it's all right. You'll be ok," she said softly whispering, her voice floating through the air in a gentle gust.
He inhaled stiffly and looked around. A small sound escaped his lips, somewhat like a strangled gasp, yet not. Had he heard her? She didn't think so. When he began to tremble, she grabbed him in an ethereal embrace, her arms wrapping around his wide frame with a ferocity all their own, but her action had the desired effect. Without even knowing that she was there, he seemed to be calming down. She touched her softly glowing hand to his pale face and he closed his eyes with a relaxed sigh. He leaned his weight back against the elevator wall and smiled. He looked so wonderful when he smiled. So at peace. "Oh Nat... that feels so good!"
Nat froze, her heart stopping in her chest. Had he felt her? What? They told her that he wouldn't be able to do that... They had told her! Nick's eyes shot open and looked straight at her with a penetrating gaze. No, straight through her, she corrected. His sad, ice-blue eyes were indeed not looking at her. He shook his head, his face painted with a look of disbelief. "What's wrong with me!?" he questioned himself in a hoarse, strangled whisper, not knowing that Natalie was listening. His piercing eyes reflected his pain as his grief returned. His eyes had always been so expressive...
Nat looked at him curiously. That had been really weird. They had told her that under no circumstances had clients ever felt their presence directly, only subconsciously. Maybe it was because he was a vampire... Her scientific mind raced through a dozed different possibilities, but she had no time to ponder the event further, because the lift had stopped.
Nick yanked the door to the lift open, his face showing strain at the physical act, and he stepped out quickly. He exited through the outer door and walked with no hesitation out into the bright sun. "Nick, no!" she cried in alarm. He wasn't supposed to join her yet! He still had a little while. He still had something very important left to do... But she was astonished to see that he wasn't showing any signs of pain whatsoever. She glanced around frantically, and then rested her eyes back on Nick as she chased after his quickly departing form.
Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Nick was mortal. He was a living, breathing, human being. Just like he'd always wanted. She almost felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. All that hard work to find him a cure, and then he just spontaneously became mortal after she died. She shook her head, angry at herself for being so selfish. He had finally done it... She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. He had finally gotten what he wanted, and now his grief was taking it away from him in little bits and pieces. "God, Nick, what have I done to you?" she asked in a pained whisper as his silently grieving form proceeded down the street.
She had pictured him spending his days in the glorious sun with her, happy and carefree. Now he wasn't even taking the time to enjoy the wonderful rays he had missed for the better part of eight-hundred years. And it was all because of her. Because of her. Her fault.
"I'm so sorry, Nick..." she said softly as she trailed behind him, stepping lightly around various pedestrians.
As before, he didn't hear her.
The cemetery was quiet. Deathly quiet. It always was, except for the chirping of the birds and the occasional visitor paying his respects. The beautifully flowered plots, dotted with the soft pastels and bright flashes of color from the gorgeous blooms gave way to huge weeping trees that stood watch over the magnificent resting place. Hundreds, thousands of people had found their final homes here amongst the deep green manicured lawns. But Nick was concerned with one of the land's permanent residents in particular.
Nick sat heavily in front of her tombstone. He leaned forward and rested his head on the cold stone, allowing the coolness of it to sink into his warm, pale skin. "Hi, Nat..." he said quietly as he softly kissed the black stone and sat back up.
He felt odd coming here, even though he did it almost every other day. It was strange, but it almost seemed to him like coming here was admitting that she was truly dead, and not just moved on to the next life. He absolutely refused to think about the possibility that this was all there was, despite the feelings his visits here conjured. He sighed. His hopes of ever joining her were not well founded... He was destined for purgatory. But... he just had to come here.
This was all he had left of her, aside from the occasional momento and faded picture. It was strange, but he felt closer to her when he visited her burial site. He let out a muffled sigh, wondering how she was and if she was happy. Although he felt guilty for thinking it, he wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her. He dreaded to think that she might not even care about him anymore... Shivering at the thought, he stared at the stone marker of her resting place. Natalie Lambert. Beloved Friend. Or at least that's what it said. He knew she was so much more than that... It made him feel cold inside to see it, so very cold... so very dead.
He merely sat on top of the plot with his knees pulled to his chest in silence, sobbing softly, completely oblivious to the passing of time. A cool breeze ruffled his already mussed hair as it blew through, but he paid it no mind. Nick took in a deep breath and let out a sigh, letting the fresh air cleanse his tortured soul. Why did things have to be so hard?
"Nat, I really miss you," he said sadly to no one in particular. His stomach grew queasy as his mind again replayed that last time he had seen her. That was a memory that surfaced all to much and it was difficult to bear. Every time he relived it he felt like a piece of his soul had been ripped away. Sighing heavily, he put his forehead to his knees and took several deep breaths. The nausea passed, but his grief did not.
He gripped himself in a tight hug, trying to deny the coldness that was setting into his frame and crashing down around him like a waterfall. "I love you..." he said desperately, his voice fading away into nothing as a sob ripped through his body and tore him to pieces. He saw an image of her face, projected by his mind before his eyes, fade away into blackness. Reaching out with his hand, his outstretched fingers met only air. He let the tears fall once again, shaking violently as he lay down on top of the damp grass that covered her plot.
Not caring about the wetness of the grass seeping into his jeans, he laid there with the side of his face in the dirt. This was as close as he'd ever get to her now... As close as he'd ever get. He closed his eyes and lay still for a moment, absorbing the smells and the sounds around him.
Strangely, he felt soothed as he lay there, almost as if someone were massaging his back in slow smooth circles. He groaned in pleasure as he felt his sadness lift from his chest and for the first time in weeks he felt like the one- hundred-ton weight had been removed from its crushing position on his chest.
He heard a faint tingling of bells in the background, but oddly he couldn't see any wind chimes nearby. Still, the mystical sound continued to seep through the air, even with the apparent lack of a source. Strange... "Nick, don't worry, it'll be all right. You're fine..." the voice floated over the air like a light mist. It sounded so familiar... yet... distant somehow... Sitting up sharply, he felt the soothing presence brush his face softly and he quickly forgot about his previous puzzlement.
Whatever was happening to him felt absolutely wonderful. He leaned back and sighed as the tension in his muscles was slowly relieved. It was like a touch from an angel... a cool breeze blowing over his skin without any movement of air. It felt like... like...
Flashback - Four Months Previous
"Oh, Nat! That feels wonderful!" he groaned as she lightly massaged the tension away from his strained muscles. Her hands were like feathers, brushing softly over the bare skin of his shoulders, and it felt positively wonderful. Nick let his head fall back against the back of the couch, completely giving in to the relaxing sensations her practiced hands were generating.
Natalie smiled, happy that she was able to help him. Nick had been so tense... The case that he had been working on had really gotten to him. She had seen him struggle to keep the vampire at bay as he had approached the terrible scene of bloodbath and mayhem, and he had had to leave the scene early when he couldn't contain his bloodlust any longer. Although he had said he was fine as he had walked off, she had seen a glint of his fangs and knew he was lying. It was so incredibly typical of him, denying that anything was wrong for what he thought was her benefit.
Sighing, she finished working on his shoulders and attempted to move to his back. "Lie down, Nick," Nat commanded his relaxed figure as she gestured for him to stretch himself out face-down on his black leather sofa. He looked at her with some level of nervousness, but complied almost instantly. It still amazed her, the level of trust he put in her was astounding. He was very loath to open up to anyone, especially to mortals. And here he was, letting her massage his half-naked body. She smiled wickedly at the thought.
Nick let her do that for the better part of an hour, and by the end of that time, he was so relaxed he was comparable to Jell-O. When she finished her ministrations, his eyes were closed and his breathing was even. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be asleep.
Nat laughed softly as she stared at the alabaster smooth skin of his back in awe. He looked like a sleeping angel, innocent and unwise about the ways of the world. How ironic that he was a vampire, a creature that embraced the night and the sins that came with it. However, she simply refused to believe as he did that he had been shunned by God. A man with so gentle a heart could never be denied by Him no matter what terrible things he had done. At least... she desperately hoped not.
She went and grabbed a blanket from the closet. Covering his cold, still form with the soft, blue fleecy material, she bent down and kissed him on the cheek lightly. As she grabbed her purse and keys to leave, she heard a faint "Thanks, Nat..." mumbled sleepily from the prone form on the couch.
So, she smiled, he had been awake. "Sleep well, Nick," she called softly as she exited via the small lift.
The Present
Nick stiffened as the memory washed over his mind, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Nat?" he called out hesitantly. There was no answer. He felt like his small semblance of a life was tumbling down around him like an avalanche. God, he was going crazy! That had to be the explanation...
He recalled the events in the elevator before he had come here with a sudden dread filling the pit of his stomach. He had passed that off as mere wishful thinking, but now it had happened twice. Twice. In less than a few hours.
"I think I'm going insane..." he said to the air, very concerned. But... if he were going insane, would he have the capacity to concern himself with it? Did crazy people know they were crazy? His mind raced and he began to breathe heavily. This was so confusing! It was like he was falling off a cliff without a parachute to save him. And it terrified him.
The feeling was back... a light touch to his face... a soft brush on his chest... It felt soooo good... and yet at the same time he wanted to run for his life. It was quite disconcerting. What the Hell was wrong with him?
"Stop!" he cried frantically into the air as he gripped himself in a tight embrace, his knees clutched to his chest as if they were his only lifeline. Silence. The feeling disappeared.
His eyes widened in shock. His insanity was listening to him... it stopped when he told it to... like it was intelligent or something... He began to shake as he huddled there on the ground. Something was very wrong with him.
"Nick, I'm sorry... Please don't be frightened..." He shook his head. There was that voice, distant, filtering through the air again. And the bells... the wind chimes he had heard before were back. What on earth?
His confusion was suddenly drowned by a flashflood of clarity, and he sobbed again. Perhaps he wanted so badly to feel Natalie's touch again that his mind was creating this fantasy for him as an outlet. It had felt so much like her... So real! But... it couldn't have been. He inhaled deeply. In all his eight-hundred years, he had neither seen nor heard of anything like this ever happening to anyone else. Perhaps... perhaps he really was crazy.
A twig snapped somewhere to his left and he started. With a gasp he glanced up, only to have his eyes meet someone else's smack dab in front of his own. "Nick! I thought I'd find you here..." Schanke said gravely, his voice trailing off as Nick stood up sharply and almost turned straight into him. Nick looked at him, his face pale and his eyes wide. He looked terribly frightened, and it made Schanke nervous. "Nick?" Schanke questioned concernedly, "What's wrong?"
Nick merely looked back and forth between him and Nat's grave. "Did you hear that?" Nick questioned Schanke frantically in a demanding tone, hoping against all hope that he had heard at least something. If Schanke had heard it, that meant he really wasn't insane. But, if Schanke had heard it... That meant it was real. He wasn't sure he wanted that either.
"No, I didn't hear anything... except you. Are you all right? Why did you yell 'stop'?" Schanke looked at his partner with a discerning eye. That was apparently not the answer his partner had wanted to hear. Nick looked like he was about ready to jump out of his skin, and his eyes had a haunted look about him, like he had just had a one on one discussion with a ghost.
"No... no I'm fine, Schanke..." Nick said distractedly, completely avoiding Schanke's second question. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice wavering only slightly as he regained the composure he had lost when Schanke had answered his question with a negative.
"I came to find you! I'm worried about you Nick," Schanke said as he looked at Nick, his brow furrowed in frustration. This was just like Nick. He would go on and on about how he was fine, when it was obvious that he wasn't. It somewhat angered Schanke that after all these years, Nick still felt like he couldn't confide in him at all. But then, Nick hadn't been the type to open up to anyone. Except Nat. And she had died. Schanke felt his anger abate somewhat at the thought.
"I said I was fine! Look, Schanke, I want to... I want to go home now, ok?" Nick didn't even bother to wait for Schanke to answer his query before he began to walk off. Schanke observed grimly that Nick wasn't even heading homeward, he was just haphazardly launching off in that particular random direction.
Schanke growled in annoyance as he turned to chase after his partner. "No," he said, emphasizing the word with a slow tone that rose in pitch, "It's not ok!" He grabbed Nick by the arm and shook him hard, stopping Nick dead in his tracks with wide eyes. "She wouldn't have wanted this, damnit! Nick, you've got to snap out of it!" Schanke cried out at him, rather upset that Nick needed someone to point such an obvious fact out to him.
Nick looked like he had been slapped in the face. Schanke looked at his partner worriedly as Nick's breathing increased and his body wobbled about on his feet like it was going to tip over. "Schanke," he said in a pained whisper, "Please, I want to go home..."
"No! You're going to talk to me about this! I've waited three months for you to snap out of it, but you haven't. People are starting to notice, Nick. If you're not careful, you'll be out of a job soon, the Captain has noticed you slipping. I'm worried about you, damnit, and I'm not going to let you waste away like this!" Schanke said, his anger rising to the surface as his rant went on and on. His face turned crimson as he thought about just how long he had let this slide. With a firm determination, Schanke decided that there was no way that Nick was getting out of this this time.
Nick bit back a sob. How could he make Schanke understand what Nat had meant to him? Of course, Schanke had not even the slightest inkling of the whole picture, that he had been a vampire. A tear slid down his cheek and he hastily wiped it away. "Schank..." he cried softly, unable to finish as his knees began to collapse underneath him and waterfalls of blackness carpeted his vision.
He was caught by Schanke's firm arms before he could fall to the damp ground. Schanke looked at him with concern as he stood Nick back up, gently. Schanke had a vague inkling as to the cause of his partner's sudden collapse... "Nick? When was the last time you ate?" he questioned, the concern in his voice tangible.
Nick stared at him, his head still spinning, confused at the sudden subject change. That was actually a good question. When was the last time he had eaten and kept it down? He couldn't remember. The last time he had tried to eat, his stomach had barely kept the food down for ten minutes before it all came back up. "I don't know..." he said, forlornly.
"You don't know? How could you not know? What, did you just decide to wait until you collapse, like now?" Schanke said as he looked at him incredulously. Maybe Nick was in far worse shape than even he had thought... Hell, the man was starving himself.
Nick merely looked at the ground ashamedly, so Schanke took the initiative. "Look, Nick. I'm going to take you home, I'm going to feed you, and then you've got a lot of talking to do because to tell you the truth, I'm sick of this!" Schanke said. Although he didn't show it, he was terrified that the only response Nick gave was a silent nod.
At first, Schanke had accepted Nick's grief as a natural thing. Hell, if Myra had died he was sure that he would've been as broken up, if not more, than Nick was about Nat. But the grief had remained, to the point where it was becoming destructive to Nick's health and to his life. And that, well that he just couldn't allow. The man was hurting, and he had to help. He couldn't just stand by and watch Nick slowly destroy himself.
Schanke patted Nick on the back and guided him back towards his waiting car, trying to ignore the tears trailing quietly down his partner's cheeks. He silently prayed that it wasn't too late to help his partner. His best friend...
"Here, Nick. Eat that," Schanke said as he placed a hot bowl of vegetable soup down on the table in front of Nick. They were back at the loft, Schanke had had to practically drag Nick in through the elevator. After forcefully sitting him down at his small dining room table, Schanke had gone through each and every one of his cabinets. He had been horrified to find that the only edible items Nick had were a can of pickles and some vegetable soup. Who the heck subsisted on pickles and soup!? Schanke, had opted for giving Nick the soup, but now he grew worried again upon looking at his partner, now looking down at the table blankly.
Nick merely stared at the steaming bowl, as if he didn't know what to do. "Go ahead, Nick. Eat it," Schanke prodded gently. He felt like he was trying to coax an mistreated dog out from underneath the bed or something...
"I'm not hungry, Schanke..." Nick said softly as he placed his head in his hands. He didn't want to eat... it would only make him sick. Not to mention it would remind him of his cursed mortality. The mortality he had gotten at the expense of Nat's death. It wasn't fair, damnit!
Schanke rolled his eyes. "Fine then! I'll force it down your throat if I have to!" he said as he got up and approached Nick with a look of menace. "I will not stand by and watch you slowly kill yourself Nick," he said as Nick looked up at him with a look of shock. "What, you didn't think I'd noticed?" Schanke questioned with amazement, but Nick merely stared at the floor in silence. Finally after several moments, he heard Nick begin to speak, hopeless and full of grief.
"It just makes me sick, Schanke..." Nick glanced at Schanke for his reaction, but quickly looked back at the floor. Maybe Schanke would leave him alone now...
Schanke blanched. If Nick hadn't been eating for such a long time because it made him sick why hadn't he gotten help? It was a scary thought. "Sick?" Schanke queried, still not quite believing what he had heard.
"Yeah, I can't seem to keep anything down..." Nick sounded almost ashamed.
Schanke was beginning to look at his partner in a new light when something occurred to him. "I thought you said that you cured your allergies?" he prodded.
Nick looked at him grimly. "Well consider this a side effect..."
Schanke looked at the table and the soup silently. Nick hadn't told him before that the food was making him ill. Why hadn't he told him so he could've gotten the help he needed before it had gotten to this point? Schanke, however, was torn from his thoughts when Nick broke the deafening silence that had ensued.
"I can't live without her, Schanke." Those quiet words said it all. Schanke saw a certain aged horror in Nick's eyes as he'd said it, almost like he felt too old for his years.
Schanke sat quietly back down and looked at Nick earnestly. "Nick, I know how you feel, but she wouldn't have wanted you to..." he was cut off by a sudden burst of anger from Nick.
"You have NO IDEA how I feel!" Nick yelled at his partner in rage. His muscles shook with tension as he stood up and threw his chair aside. How could Schanke, a mere child compared to him, even begin to know how he felt? Of course, Schanke would never know. Nick could never tell him the full story. He couldn't tell him about his vampiric past even if he had wanted to, the enforcers had seen to that... Nick had been forced to promise that he would never speak a word about his former vampiric existence, and he was forbidden to even make contact with the vampire community.
Flashback - Three Months Previous
"Nicholas... What have you done?" LaCroix's voice oozed through the air of the candlelit loft, filled with amazement and resentment all at the same time. His master looked at him with a piercing stare.
"I... I don't know. It just... happened," Nick said, hesitantly. He prepared himself for LaCroix's wrath, but he received none. Only a calculating stare. He tried to ignore his shaking hands, but he was genuinely afraid. LaCroix _could_ hurt him now and he had no doubts whatsoever that LaCroix had no compunctions about killing him. He was as mortal as they came, with a stead beating heart. That was all it would take.
LaCroix looked at him coldly, his expression betraying nothing. So... Nicholas had found a cure and denied the gift of eternal life. Finally LaCroix elected to speak. "What do you mean, it just happened? What of your silly attempts at a 'cure' with the good Doctor Lambert?" LaCroix taunted, spitting out the word 'cure' like it was a taboo, not to be said under any circumstances. Nick tried not to pay attention to how smug he looked.
"She's dead, LaCroix..." Nick said softly, the tears beginning to flow freely now. Although he had originally set out to control himself, Nick failed dismally. But it didn't matter. He didn't give a damn if LaCroix saw him like this. He didn't care at all, about anything.
LaCroix looked at Nick with wide eyes, but he only allowed his astonishment to show for a microsecond before he tucked it away behind his stone-faced front. He supposed that Nicholas was expecting a somewhat more violent reaction based on his look of astonishment. But he had something different in mind. Perhaps he could convince Nicholas that he actually wanted to be a vampire... After all, LaCroix found it hard to believe Nicholas even knew how to be anything else, what with the majority of his life spent as one. He leaned in towards his 'son' and stared at him with a stone cold gaze. "I can take you back, Nicholas," he paused briefly and let a seductive tone fill his voice as he continued "You know that it is what you want..."
He pulled Nick towards him and turned him around, tilting his head sideways to expose his neck. Only Nick's nervous gasp could be heard as LaCroix ran his fingers lightly over Nick's neck. Brushing Nick's soft blond hair lightly with his fingers, LaCroix smiled. His 'son' was trembling in his grasp. Nicholas was afraid of him and he was showing it. Feeding on that fear, he snarled briefly, letting his fangs descend as he hovered over the warm neck of his former child. He listened to his 'child's' heartbeat, the loud thumping nearly hypnotizing him into a drunken state. It had been exquisite the first time he had brought Nick across, the second would no doubt be just as wonderful.
LaCroix lowered his mouth to Nick's neck, preparing himself for the ecstasy that was Nick's blood as his lips brushed against Nick's soft pale skin. "No." The word stopped him cold and he backed away from his errant 'son' in shock. Nicholas had dared to refuse his offer? Perhaps he had been wrong in his earlier assumptions.
"What?" LaCroix's voice sounded somewhat annoyed and quite harsh in Nick's ears.
"You heard what I said, LaCroix. I don't want that. You know that I don't..." Nick's voice trailed off as he looked at his former master with tear-filled eyes. He silently prayed that LaCroix would accept what he said and respect his wishes.
LaCroix merely snorted indignantly. "You realize that the enforcers will kill you..." he said, a haughty tone entering his voice. But secretly LaCroix knew that he had finally lost the eight-hundred year battle to keep his 'son' in the fold.
"I know, LaCroix," Nick said flatly, flinching slightly when he saw his master's angry stare.
"You are a fool, Nicholas..." And with that... LaCroix left in a swift gust of air, not bothering to say goodbye.
Nick looked down at the floor as a tear slid down his cheek. "I know," he said softly. Although he doubted LaCroix could have heard him, he said it anyway. Because it was the truth.
The Present
That was the last he had ever heard from LaCroix. The enforcers hadn't killed him when they had visited shortly after as he had expected they would, but shortly after they visited, LaCroix quit his job at CERK and moved on to God knows where. Nick shivered, wondering if the enforcers had compelled the two thousand year old vampire to move or if he had left of his own volition. What kind of power would it have taken to get the ancient to move? It scared Nick just to think of it, more so now than when he had been a vampire. Nick had been lucky, extremely lucky, that the enforcers had shown some leniency and allowed him to close the final chapter in his life as a vampire without having the final sentence involving his death.
Nick shook himself from his thoughts as he went over to the window and stared out at the sunset with a blank look on his face. It was sunset already? He stared at the wisps of heavenly oranges and purples that streaked through the sky like and abstract watercolor painting and knew that his observation was correct. Just how long had he spent at Nat's grave? He had no time to dwell on it, however, because Schanke had placed a hand softly on his shoulder and had begun talking.
"Nick, you just can't do this to yourself. Granted, maybe I don't know exactly how you feel, but I do know how much you loved her. I'm not asking you to forget that, I'm just asking you to try to accept what's happened and move on. You need to take care of yourself Nick," Schanke said quietly behind him, and Nick could detect a tightness in his voice as if he were trying hard not to let his calm visage fall apart.
Nick couldn't bring himself to look at him, partially out of shame for putting his friend through so much worry, and partially because he knew he couldn't comply. He wanted so desperately to do exactly as Schanke had said. He knew his grief would only destroy him, Hell, it already had. But it was so hard! He just couldn't forget Nat as if she were a bad chapter in a good book. She wasn't some character on a page that could be easily ignored, she'd been his hope, his faith, and his love. And now she was gone.
He stared silently at the sunset, its soft light glowing on his face and making him look infinitely more pale. Was that where Nat was? It was fitting... It was at times like this that he wished he hadn't been robbed of his gift of flight, the one vampiric quality he had enjoyed. He felt, somehow, that if he could just fly out there and mingle with those beautiful pastels and whispy clouds that everything would be all right. The feeling merely increased his longing.
He sighed. After allowing himself to stare out at the sunset for a bit longer, he turned to face Schanke. "I'm trying so hard to forget, Schank... I just can't, all right?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Schanke's only response to his question was a nearly imperceptible nod. With a look of shame Nick slowly picked up the chair he had knocked aside and replaced it to its proper spot, sitting down heavily after he had done so. Schanke joined him again at the table, sitting across from him at the other end.
Nick picked up the spoon that was in the now cold soup and began to eat it slowly. He really was very hungry... The coolness of the soup surprised him as it slid down his throat, the tangy taste of the soggy vegetables floating in the yellowish liquid giving his senses somewhat of a jolt. He had never had soup, at least not that he could remember. It tasted different than he had expected it would. It sat heavily in his stomach, and for a bit, he thought he would have to excuse himself to the bathroom, but the feeling soon passed. However, after a few more swallows, his stomach was again threatening to rebel and he felt like dozens of butterflies had taken refuge there. Luckily, he had already eaten enough soup to satisfy Schanke, so he stopped.
Swallowing thickly, a thought suddenly occurred to him and he looked up. "Schanke, do you believe in ghosts?" he asked, genuinely curious. Perhaps what had happened to him hadn't been his imagination. A part of him really wanted it to be real. It gave him hope, that maybe he could see Nat just one more time. His thought leaped at the thought.
"What?" Schanke looked perplexed. Why would Nick ask a silly question like that at a time like this?
"I asked if you believed in ghosts," Nick repeated, this time enunciating quite clearly. He was slowly beginning to realize that asking was a mistake. Schanke was already worried, asking such an off the wall question would only worry him more.
"I heard what you said, but why do you ask?" Schanke questioned his partner, his tone growing slightly suspicious as he purposely dodged Nick's inquiry.
"Never mind, it was a dumb question. Sorry," Nick hastily rectified his slip. It was stupid to think Schanke might actually believe him if he were to relate his experiences in the elevator and at Nat's grave. Nat was dead. The bitter reality of it slapped him in the face as if he were realizing it for the first time. Dead. There was no way he'd ever see her again until he grew old and died. And with the scars of sin on his soul, even then, it was iffy. He'd just have to accept that.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several moments that stretched into an eternity. After what seemed like hours, Schanke gave Nick an apologetic look and got up, slapping his thighs in a gesture of closure as he did so. "Well Nick, as much as I'd like to stay, Myra is expecting me home soon. Will you be all right if I leave you? You'll be at work tomorrow, right?" he asked hopefully. They had broken some ice tonight. This was the first time they had really talked in awhile. His partner was hurting. Bad. But it looked like he was slowly on the mend.
"Yeah, Schanke. I'll be fine, and I'll come to work tomorrow," Nick finally answered in a defeated tone. Although he realized that he had to, he really didn't want to go to work at all. He had enough money to live without working and it just wasn't worth the torment to his heart. The pain practically ate up his insides whenever he had to go to the Coroner's Building to get information on a case from the new head M.E. But... Schanke would never let him live it down if he retired.
Schanke nodded silently and left via the lift, grabbing his light gray trench coat as he went. Nick sighed in relief after Schanke had finally disappeared through the door. He knew that Schanke was only trying to help, but for Nick it only made it hurt more.
His chest constricted and he breathed rapidly, trying to overcome a sudden onslaught of grief. He would not let the tears fall again. Clenching his fists, he waited until it passed, only letting out a relieved sigh when he was sure it was over.
With a certain heaviness to his step, he plodded up the stairs and entered his bedroom. There, still on the bed, was his Beretta 9mm. Loaded. Ready. He reached for it longingly from where he stood in the doorway with his hand outstretched, but his feet would make no move towards the bed no matter how hard he tried to move them. It was as if they were telling him he was wrong to think the handgun on his bed was the only way out. He shook his head. Fury over how he had been reduced to such contemplation swept through his body like a brush fire.
Nick stalked over and angrily swept the Beretta off the bed, paying it no mind as it hit the floor with a sick thud. As the sound echoed through the oppressive silence, he let himself fall to the bed with a heaving breath. He just couldn't do it. Why? Was he a coward for not wanting to face up to his sins? Rage coursed through his body at the thought, shaking his conscience until it rattled. Maybe tomorrow... With that single thought on his mind, he fell into a restless sleep.
Nat stared at Nick's sleeping form, her eyes filling with tears as she got a really good look at him. His hair was slightly mussed and he had a disturbed expression on his face, similar to that of a lost little boy, even as he slept.
It was nothing like he used to look when he slept, so innocent and young. He looked like he had aged years in only the past few months. Hints of wrinkles were clawing at the corners of his eyes and his face was deathly pale, almost as if he were still a vampire. It was as if his heart and soul had withered and left a dying old man with nothing left to live for in his place. Nat couldn't help but shiver when she realized it might be true.
Nat looked over to the small handgun that Nick had swept to the floor in a fit of anger. She let out a small sob as she bent over his silent form and brushed his face with a glowing hand, relishing the feel of his warm skin underneath her fingers. It was obvious that he was trying to kill himself, and her heart wrenched in her chest when she thought of how much his grief over her death had hurt him.
She brushed a stray lock of his unruly blond hair away from his face. He looked so tired. So alone. A tear slid down her cheek and made its way lazily into the clutches of gravity. Seeing his like this made her so incredibly sad. Even when trying to comfort him it seemed as though she horribly messed things up every time.
She shuddered when she remembered how upset he had been at her grave... Even worse, she had only fueled his confusion. For some reason, he had been able to hear her and feel her. It had hurt when she had seen the fear in his eyes, she'd only been trying to help him. What was worse was that she couldn't reveal herself to him. It was against Their own private code, and They had told her specifically that she could only give him a subconscious boost.
And right now, Nick need as much boosting as he could get. Nick had been on a razor-sharp edge, straddled between a world of vampires and a world of mortals, not really fitting in either one. Now he had been relentlessly thrust into the mortal one with no one to guide him, no one for him to confide in. That should have been her job. Now, she was simply to comfort him until his time came. Until he had found his redemption. His peace. His soul...
Natalie laughed bitterly as she peered over him. Life could be so cruel. So incredibly cruel. She brushed his face again with a luminescent hand. His face was so soft... At least where there wasn't prickly stubble, it was like velvet. She longed to touch him for real, to run her fingers through his hair, to embrace him with every ounce of strength that she had, all the things that she used to do to comfort him when he was distressed.
She was startled from her thoughts when Nick began to mumble in his sleep, showing some distress over whatever dream he was having. His breath was coming in ragged gasps as he continued to mumble. It sounded almost like... archaic French. With her limited high school French, she was able to loosely translate it into, "No! Please don't go..." Over and over he said it, shaking with an intensity that would've been painful for him had he been awake. Lying down on the bed next to him, she wrapped her arms around his chest and hugged him tightly. Perhaps she could still offer him comfort, even if he wouldn't know she was the one giving it.
She brushed her curly brown hair to the side with her hand and waved at him, smiling with a sickly sweet curl of her upper lip. "Goodbye Nick! I'll call you when I'm back from Quebec!"
Nick saw her from across the terminal, but the distance between them seemed insurmountable. He had to warn her! He had to stop her from getting on that plane before it was too late. The sound of a jet passing overhead nearly knocked him flat. His heart launched into a series of rapid beats when he saw her pick up the carryon bag that was sitting beside her feet... No. NO. "Nat! You can't get on the plane!" he tried desperately to scream at her to come back, but the words came back to his ears as a mute whisper. She started to wave again, almost as if she was mocking his failing attempts to stop her. "NAT, NO!" he tried again, but again he failed, his voice hoarse with strain.
He launched through the terminal with frightening speed, trying to catch her, but it was as if he was on a treadmill. The distance between them actually seemed to be increasing the faster he went. He was about to take off into the air, consequences be damned, but suddenly, there was a crowd all around him, a sea of heartbeats that couldn't be silenced.
He turned to the left. "Sir, I hope you have a wonderful day with Air Canada..." the woman he practically sent sprawling to the floor spouted in a saccharine tone. Screaming in frustration, he turned to the right only to trip over a lady's suitcase. With a yelp of surprise he went sprawling to floor, but he still clawed his way desperately forward. The crowd was clawing at him, screaming in his ears, but he kept his eyes focused on her. Nat Nat Nat Nat Nat Nat. He cried out as a particularly vicious patron ripped his shoe from his right foot.
Nat was still waving as if nothing were wrong, and she started to turn towards the entry ramp. "NAT!" He gained his footing back and scrambled through the swarm of people, dodging this way and that, but they kept coming and coming.
"Air Canada is the key to business success. We provide discounts for first class passengers..." The woman from before was back and her voice rang through his ears. He felt ill, but he had to keep going.
PAIN! He was in the windowed portion of the terminal, the sunlight was bombarding him in a rain of spears. Nick cried out in fury and pain as his skin started to burn and flake like dry paper. He fell to the ground again, blinded by the intense light as it seared his eyes.
He had to keep going. He had to stop her! Groping blindly, he headed towards where he had last heard her, but the pain was too much and he collapsed again, with his hand outstretched in a final plea to Nat to heed his cries.
Curling into a tight ball with his arms curled around his abdomen, he prayed for an end. Anything to stop the pain. He could feel his insides incinerating, but for some reason the end never came. Suddenly, a deafening boom nearly sent him flying backwards across the floor. The sound echoed through the din, rumbling in his ears like metal screaming as it would were it being torn apart. "Nat!" His voice was utterly dead. Nothing came out of his mouth as he screamed her name, over and over again through his pain, "Nat! Nat! Nat! Nat! Nat!"
Then, as if he had been doused in darkness, the sun stopped burning. The pain was gone as if it had never been and he got up shakily, barely noting that his skin was completely unscathed from the previous onslaught of harmful light. He ran without hesitation onto the runway. Everything was gone. The plane was drowning in a sea of flames as rubble continued to fall to the ground, thumping loudly as each piece hit the pavement and surrounding grass of the runway.
He coughed as the whisps of smoke entered through his nostrils and seared his lungs. Ignoring the burning sensation it promoted, Nick peered around desperately through the haze of black smoke. Nothing. Nothing left. There was nothing left.
He sobbed, a small lost broken sound escaping his lips as he began to tremble. It was all his fault. He didn't warn her in time. She was gone. Gone. She was gone. Why was she gone? Because of him. It was his fault and she was gone.
"No I'm not, Nick," a voice said through the clouds of hazy smoke. He looked up to see Nat walking ethereally towards him through the debris in an angelic white robe almost as if she were floating across the black pavement of the runway. Her translucent skin glowed like candlelight underneath white silk, and he stared at her in wonder. She was directly in front of him now. What trick of magic was this? He let out a small gasp when she placed her hand on his shoulder. Nick felt all his pain seeping out of his body through that simple contact.
Not trusting his voice, he simply stood there and closed his eyes when she took him into a tight embrace. This wasn't real. Nat was dead. Dead. She was dead.
"No I'm not, Nick," she said firmly. "I live in you. My heart is a part of yours now. Never forget that," she whispered softly into his ear, her voice like a feather in his ear. How had she known what he was thinking? Impossible.
With a wave of her hand, they were no longer on the dreaded runway. They were back in his bedroom at his loft. This was too much. He shook his head in disbelief. "Stop it! You're dead! I killed you!" he said, his voice sounding like someone punched his stomach as it escaped in a pained wheeze. He felt the guilt crushing him like a vice as he struggled to remain standing.
"No you didn't Nick. You're not to blame, you couldn't have known the plane was going to explode," Nat maintained with a calm expression on her face.
"But I should have!" Nick yelled at her in denial, forgetting his amazement at her presence. It was his fault. His fault.
"You couldn't have and you know it," she said evenly, but her eyes expressed the passion that her voice did not.
"Oh, Nat... I'm sorry..." He began to cry in heavy wracking sobs. His body trembled in her grasp as she ran her right hand comfortingly through his hair. Eventually the jarring sobs were replaced with soft sniffles and finally one last shaky sigh. "Why did you have to go?" the small plaintive whisper tumbled through the air on wings of grief.
Nat placed a finger on his lips to silence him as she wrapped her arms more tightly around him. He went limp in her grip, completely exhausted.
"Let me help you, Nick," she whispered as she collapsed onto the bed with him curled in her arms like a lost boy. She kissed him softly on the back of the neck and began to soothe him with light touches of her hands. He groaned, partially in pleasure and partially in grief.
"Let me help you..." Nat's voice began to disappear as her body began to fade.
Nick snapped awake and the dream fell into oblivion, replaced by the evil piercing ring of his infernal alarm clock. He was still so tired... He felt like he'd gotten no sleep at all. It was always the same. He had that same nightmare every night. Except... this one had been different. He shuddered, remembering the vision of Nat's burned body, always coming back to haunt him in his nightmares. But he hadn't seen that this time. This dream was different.
Nat had come back to him... Nick choked back a sob. If only that would really happen. He shook his head softly as he forced himself off the bed and began to get ready for work. Life wasn't fair. Nothing was fair.
"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up for work!" Schanke exclaimed in amazement as a disheveled Nick stumbled into the office. He cringed at the tired glare he received from his partner. Although Nick had said he would come in today, Schanke had not believed that he would actually follow through with his promise. Despite Nick's awful, unshaven appearance, Schanke smiled. They were making progress.
Nick merely growled as he took a seat at his immaculate desk. "What are we working on right now? Refresh me..." Nick said, his voice gruff and full of weariness. If Schanke hadn't known better, he would've thought Nick was suffering from a hangover.
"Nick, remember, the Pickett case? Two bodies... no witnesses?" Schanke prodded, hoping he wouldn't have to review the whole thing with Nick.
Nick merely nodded. "Oh yeah," he said quietly, looking down at his desk as Schanke gently placed the files from the case on the flat surface for him to read over. Schanke noticed that Nick was purposely avoiding looking around at the surrounding office, and he glanced up to see what was up.
The office had grown steadily quieter since Nick had come in. It was a rare occurrence indeed that the 'Knightmare' showed up lately. He'd taken almost a month and a half of his accumulated sick leave already... Schanke stood up and glared at the staring observers, daring them to do something. Most of them went back to working on whatever it was that they had been working on. Schanke shrugged and sat back down at his desk.
"Nick..." Schanke turned to see his partner staring off into space, caught in some train of thought that was currently careening away from the task at hand at high velocity. He rolled his eyes and repeated himself with more emphasis, "NICK..."
Nick shook himself from his thoughts and stared at Schanke expectantly. "What?" Nick questioned, looking confused at Schanke's sudden intrusion into his thoughts.
Schanke took a deep breath and started to speak. "Nick, We need to go check out Jacob Corbin. He's the suspect I came up with last week, remember, I told you about this before..."
"Corbin? Right, yeah. Ok," Nick said absently. Schanke looked at him concernedly. His partner was at work... but his mind was far from it. Schanke watched Nick grab his black duster from the rack and throw it on with a sigh. His eyes darting to the left, he noticed Captain Cohen sticking her head out of her office to peer at the fallen hero cop with a slight frown. Schanke knew she was just about at the end of her rope, and Nick didn't have much more time left before she took action. He shook his head. He really wished Nick would snap out of this. At least he had shown up...
Nick nodded to Schanke and the pair proceeded out towards the precinct parking lot and into the blaring sunlight. Schanke visibly blanched when Nick haphazardly wandered towards Schanke's own beat up old Chevy, bypassing his Caddie sitting lonely in the distant corner of the lot. Taking the hint, Schanke got out his keys. Nick looked forlornly at his own green Cadillac as he sat in the passenger seat of Schanke's car, but he made no move to protest that he wasn't driving. Schanke simply sighed and turned the key in the ignition. Things were so different now...
Nick felt like he was going to fall apart into a million pieces. He had tried to ignore the stares of his coworkers, but it was difficult when he knew that each and every one of their searing eyes were looking at him. When Schanke had handed him the report on the murder, trying to act like nothing was out of the ordinary, it tore him apart even more. He knew that he was making life difficult for just about everyone, but he couldn't help it. At least they didn't have to go to the Coroner's Building today... that would just be too much.
After riding in silence, Schanke quietly announced that they were at their intended destination and then pulled the car over to the side of the road. Nick merely sighed, the depression that had been nagging at the back of his mind threatening to finally overcome him. Just when he thought he would drown in the oppressing weight of it, he felt his tension lift somewhat. That strange feeling he had had earlier at Nat's grave returned and he stiffened in response.
Schanke was looking at him strangely with one of his 'Don't- go-weird-on-me-again' looks as he got out of the car, so Nick valiantly ignored the unsettling sensations. "Nick? Why don't you let me ask the questions, ok? You don't look all that hot right now..." Schanke said honestly, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.
Nick nodded in silent agreement. He didn't want to ask the questions. Without his hypnotic powers, there was really no advantage to him asking them anyway, why not let Schanke do it? He ran a hand through his ruffled blond hair as they approached the door. The strange sensation had disappeared, but he was left with a general feeling of uneasiness and he wasn't quite certain the two were connected. Although it had been severely diminished with his reversion to mortality, his danger sense was still quite keen.
Schanke lightly knocked on the door of the small, two- story, red brick house. "Jacob Corbin?" Schanke called out, hesitantly. He always hated questioning suspects. Who knew what they would do when they saw the police at the door?
"Yeah, who is it?" came a muffled baritone voice from behind the door. The annoyed tone in the man's voice made it obvious that he was not pleased about the interruption. The hairs on the back of Nick's skin crawled. Something was very wrong with this situation. Very wrong.
Schanke looked at Nick and then back to the door. "I'm Detective Schanke and this is Detective Knight. We're from the Toronto PD. We'd like to ask you a few questions regarding the murders of Samual and Janelle Pickett..." he said loudly into the door.
Silence. Nick looked to Schanke and they both drew their guns from their holsters. "Sir, open the door please," Nick called out loudly, his cop persona finally kicking in. "Sir?" he questioned again.
They heard a string of curses from behind the door and a loud thump. "Nick, he's running for it!" Schanke told his partner, but Nick already knew.
Nick, a former predator, knew quite well how the prey would react if it felt threatened. It would run... "You go through the front, I'll go around back..." he said.
Schanke smiled. "C'mon, Nick. You always take the back..." he complained lightheartedly, despite the seriousness of the situation. Some of the old Nick was apparently still in the walking shell of a man that now resided in his body...
Nick smiled back, something Schanke hadn't observed Nick do in a long, long time. Seeing it had a cathartic effect. "I know. Now GO!" Nick said as he took off around the side of the house. Breathing hard, he analyzed the situation carefully. No windows or doors were opened, which meant there was a pretty good chance that the perp was still in the house. Waiting? Or perhaps, setting a trap for a certain pair of invading detectives...
Still feeling some remnants of his predatory drive, he gripped his gun tightly as sweat beaded on his forehead from the adrenaline. He swiftly kicked the back door in and entered the house, hugging the wall immediately inside the door with his back as he searched the room inside with his eyes.
Glancing around, he realized that he'd entered in through the kitchen. But damn, it was dark. The house had absolutely no lighting whatsoever... Even in the daylight, it was almost oppressively dark. He hadn't realized how much he had relied on his vampiric night-vision until now. Keeping his back to the wall, he sidestepped through a wide arched doorway into the dining room on the light feet of a practiced hunter. He had to keep up his guard... He wasn't invincible anymore.
Listening carefully, straining to hear anything of significance, he was overwhelmed by the sound of his own heavy breathing. Over the din of his own rapidly beating heart and his ragged breath, he heard a soft thump coming from elsewhere in the dark house.
It could be Schanke. It could be Corbin. Nick tensed as he sidestepped into the adjoining study room, training his gun all about until he was certain the room had no occupants other than himself and a wide variety of books. There was a long hallway connecting this room to the next and he quickly proceeded along the walls and into one of the recesses along its side where a small chest of drawers could be kept without obstructing the walkway.
Nick heard another thump and practically jumped out of his skin. He breathed in deeply and forced himself to relax a bit. Training his gun in the direction of the noise, he peered out briefly and sighed with relief when he saw Schanke proceeding past the mouth of the hallway cautiously. He wiped away the sweat dripping into his eyes with a shaky hand and was about to alert Schanke to his presence when he saw it. His heart nearly stopped when he noticed the ominous red dot on the back of Schanke's neck. A laser sight.
"Schanke, look out!" he cried aloud in warning as he ran down the short hallway in seconds. Nick paid no attention to Schanke, who had barely time to react as he barreled out of the hallway, leaping into the air almost horizontally. In mid flight, he let out a shot from his trusty Beretta, the gun he had earlier tried to kill himself with, but not before he felt a blast of pain as something impacted into his chest.
He fell to the floor, his back hitting the wall with a painful crack. It seemed like everything was going in slow motion. Although he thought he heard Schanke saying something about "Officer down!" he couldn't be sure. Why did everything feel so weird? He took a short breath, surprised at the effort it took. Something nagged at his brain until it finally registered. He'd been shot. That's what it was. Shot.
Although it wasn't really as painful as he had expected it to be, Nick could feel the wetness of his own blood cushioning his body as he lay there crumpled on the floor in a heap. A certain numbness began to set it and he vaguely saw the man he presumed to be Jacob Corbin slump to the floor. Schanke suddenly appeared over him as his vision began to blur and fade. "Did... did I get him, Schanke?" Nick said, his voice slurred. He was starting to feel cold. So cold...
He heard Schanke say with a horribly sad tone, "Yeah, Nick. You got him." He nodded and closed his eyes as he coughed up a little blood. Wasn't that a sign of internal bleeding? Coughing up blood was bad, wasn't it? He didn't know. He felt so numb. Schanke's hand was cradling his head, but he could barely feel it. At least he had managed to save his partner. It brought him comfort to know he had done something right... But why was it so cold? He opened his eyes to a dark blur, but strangely, he could swear he saw Nat standing over him with her head bowed, weeping.
"Nat?" he called, his voice containing an odd clarity to it despite his condition. She didn't answer. It was so cold... Her hand reached out and grasped his. He took a quick, pained breath at the feel of her hand in his.
It was so cold.
So incredibly cold...
Prelude to an End
-/When the dark wood fell before me
-/And all the paths were overgrown
-/When the priests of pride say there is no other way
-/I tilled the sorrows of stone
"Nick Knight... was a... was a brave man. He saved my life, and I can't thank him enough for what he's given me. A chance to see my Jenny graduate from high school. A chance to tell my wife I love her again... I've never had a better partner or a better friend in my life. And for that, Nick Knight, I wish you luck and... and I hope you find Natalie, wherever you are now... Rest in peace."
-/I did not believe because I could not see
-/Though you came to me in the night
-/When the dawn seemed forever lost
-/You showed me your love in the light of the stars
Nick watched somewhat sadly from the pew as Schanke concluded his speech, touched that someone could care that much about him. Schanke was of the aspects of his life that he would sorely miss. He let a small tear drift down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it away.
-/Cast your eyes on the ocean
-/Cast your soul to the sea
-/When the dark night seems endless
-/Please remember me
"Nick? Are you coming?"
-/Then the mountain rose before me
-/By the deep well of desire
-/From the fountain of forgiveness
-/Beyond the ice and fire
Torn from his musings, Nick glanced behind him. "Yes, Nat. I'm coming," he said softly with a smile. Taking one last look at Schanke, he crossed himself. "Goodbye, Schanke," he said in a soft whisper.
-/Cast your eyes on the ocean
-/Cast your soul to the sea
-/When the dark night seems endless
-/Please remember me
-/Though we share this humble path, alone
-/How fragile is the heart
-/Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
-/To touch the face of the stars
-/Breathe life into this feeble heart
-/Lift this mortal veil of fear
-/Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
-/We'll rise above these earthly cares
He stood up and grasped her hand firmly, kissing her chastely on the lips. With ethereal smiles, they walked towards the rear of the church, out the set of large wooden double doors, and into the light.
-/Cast your eyes on the ocean
-/Cast your soul to the sea
-/When the dark night seems endless
-/Please remember me
-/Please remember me
Epilogue - LaCroix
A bittersweet ending to a long life...
Nicholas was a strong individual, weakened by the scars of his own foolish emotions. He chose is path, as you can choose yours, for himself. I maintain that love will only bring harm, but I am sure that Nicholas would beg to differ.
Only he knows now, how everything turned out for himself. Perhaps he is with his Natalie in eternity, or perhaps not. I suppose I will always wonder, but that cannot be helped... I shall move on, and so will all of Nicholas's little mortal friends. That is the nature of human spirit... To triumph over loss.
And so I leave you with this, dear reader. Embrace my words and my message.
Carpe Noctem.
THE END
