Disclaimer: I don't own NightWalkers, or any of the characters written about here within.

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It's been years now. Eight, maybe nine and I've changed. Oh, no, perhaps not outwardly, but inwardly, I'm not the person I was. I never will be. I was just a girl once. Just a stupid, innocent, blissful girl, who found her prince in a man, but not just any man. No, no one's like Mr. Shido. He was a rogue, a dashing young brute who yearned for adventure, and still is very much the same, but as with all things, the lust for spontaneity withered. Maybe not for him, but for me.

I still look sixteen, and I always will. I promised him no regrets, and still to this day, if he asks me, I just smile and shake my head, and then he kisses me on the forehead and goes on with his work.

I cut my hair tonight, and have yet to show it to Mr. Shido. It doesn't matter; it will be back by tomorrow evening, growing as I sleep in the casket the two of us share now and then. It used to be, where we wouldn't sleep a night without being in each other's arms, but, like I mentioned previously, things change, and I wanted a coffin of my own.

Now, as I stand out upon the balcony of our most recent home, for I couldn't stay in Japan. No, not without ever growing up, I ponder where I would be in life, if I had not become what it is that I am. An actress? A Painter? An accountant? A Singer? It doesn't really matter, but I long again for those days of old, when my friends and I would make our pretend movies, and we would joyously dance about, as if there were nothing but us in the world.

I finger the lace of my skirt, simple, thin, and black, textured slightly. Yes, I admit, I dress older than I look. Long skirt, tank top, and cardigan, all black, always. I've become quite accustomed to the color, much to Mr. Shido's dismay. The only trace of childish left in me are my shoes, my horrible, old, beaten up Mary Jane's. They don't match my black ensemble, but I love them all the same. They shine with gray creases and dull black leather.

God, New Orleans is beautiful at night. Our little apartment is wonderful, though a little small. It's as though the two of us, and Guni are living life through an Anne Rice novel. I like to take walks down Bourbon street now and then, just to make Mr. Shido worry, and to contemplate the words of the fictional character, Lestat. Though he may be a false creation, he has some very sensible things to say. I don't think I have the charisma for immortality, I don't have the stamina. I'm ready for children, for grandchildren, for old age with the one I love, but that's an impossibility now. We'll never age, never die. We're timeless, like a photograph, like a portrait. It doesn't matter.

So, I swoop up my hair, and tie it into a short, messy bun. Yes, I think I'd rather have long hair then the choppy mess I've landed myself with for this evening. I trump inside, and grab my coat, disturbing Mr. Shido as he works on one of his many cases. He looks up, and Guni jumps of his shoulder, fluttering to me, and around my short hair.

"That looks terrible." I listen to her remark.

I smile at her, and whisper a snide little, "Be quiet, you." I begin to put my coat on.

Mr. Shido gets out of his seat, and comes to Guni and I, and stares, simply gazing upon me as if I were a doll in a case. He slowly reaches up, tucking one of the short tufts behind my ear, and smiles fondly at me. I smile back.

"It looks nice." He remarks. He's really a terrible liar, but then again, I believed every word he spoke to me so long ago, I have a mind to still believe him now.

"Thank you, Shido." I reply, the formalities between us died long ago, but he will always be my Mr. Shido.

I turn from him, and open the door with a click. He places a hand on my shoulder and my head makes a three-quarter spin to look at him. I can tell in his eyes, he doesn't want me going out, but there's something more there. He wants to hold me, to kiss me, to love me, and I want that too, but for whatever reason, these few past months, I've not been able to care for him outwardly. I've been closed up, withdrawn. God, how I want to grab him, and crush him to me, and cry. Cry away all my insecurities, and pain. Cry away all of my memories, and past names, but I don't move. I tell him I'll be home soon, that I'm going for a walk, and to not worry. I give him a smile, a rare, real smile, and I can tell he's slightly relieved. I say goodnight to Guni, and I'm off. Down the stairs, forget the elevator, and out into the desolate, lower part of town. The street is quiet, and I walk through the chilled night like I'm home. Like I've done this all before, because I have. I see in the distance, some children playing. It's a bit late, I know, so why are they out still? I see the ball they've been throwing back and forth rolls into the street, and without warning, the small girl runs to get it, but a car is coming, and it can't stop in time to save her.

I run. I run like Satan's at my heels. Like Cain is after my head, and I get there just in time to shove the innocent child away, but it's too late for me. The car slams against me, metal meeting flesh, and I scream, as I'm smashed beneath it's front. The girl runs to the older boy, her brother I'm guessing, and I watch them run inside, screaming for their mother. The car driver gets out to look at his damage before dashing back into the driver's seat, throwing the old sports car into reverse, and speeding away.

I can feel the blood pouring from me. I have many open wounds, I can tell with the night breeze touching them, and I count them. One, two,..eight. I can almost feel my gut spilling out, and my head is spinning. I can see the little girl dashing back out of the house, dragging her mother with her, and I smile at her, knowing that she'll be just fine. God, I'm so tired, and then it hits me. I'm immortal, but I have conditions, if I lose enough blood, I will die. There are limits, even for me, for a vampire.

I squirm to pull myself from my pooling blood, but my shoulder's come out of its socket, and my ankles have been broken. I can barely move with my one good arm. It hurts, and I can hear myself squeal. My hair's in my face, and it shades my view, and finally, after dragging myself backwards a few feet, a collapse back down. I just can't do this.

"Mr. Shido." I hear my voice whisper, and I fail to recognize my own fairytale. I close my eyes in anticipation. They say, 'blink and you'll miss it', and today is the day I wake up to realize my 25-year-long blink. I think about the cold glares, and whispered gossip. Who am I? The inexcusable.

I opened my eyes, and I was being touched, saved. Thin, lavender hair, and a shrieking voice of a little green demon. I see him looking down upon me, and he reflects that of a wraith. Gaunt, slight, and terrified and I can see the sparkles in his eyes as he carries me away, back to our apartment. He'll save me, but, the question is, do I really want him to?

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A/N: Well, I hope you all like the first installment of this little story. I'll continue on, if anyone wants me too. And I LOVE suggestions. R+R!