Date: Sun, 19 May 1996 13:26:10 -0700 From: LC Fenster Subject: A Final Farewell (1/1) (contains LK spoilers) Don't ask me where this came from; I have no idea. It's rather different from most of what I write (for one thing, LaCroix isn't even in it ). This is one of two LK stories I am working on. This one insisted on being written first. This is for you, Sharon; I hope you like it. :-) Comments, etc. to lucienlc@ix.netcom.com A FINAL FAREWELL She wasn't even sure how she got there. Habit and instinct, that had to be it; certainly she had no memory of driving herself to the loft. She buzzed from the entryway; nobody answered. He wasn't there. Where could he be? She knew he had been given the rest of the night off. Never mind. She was too exhausted and worn down to drive anywhere else that night. He'd be back. She hoped. Half afraid of what she might find, Natalie Lambert let herself into Nick's apartment. The loft looked the same as always - tidy, peaceful, undisturbed. Nothing to indicate the current perturbation of its owner. She breathed an internal sigh of relief. Mechanically, she checked the refrigerator. Nothing but bottles of blood. She sighed, knowing she should know better than to expect to find anything to eat at Nick's place. <> she admonished herself. <> She'd had precious little of each since hearing of Lora's death. <> Tears threatened to spill over for the umpteenth time in the last two days. Forcing them back, she settled herself into one of the chairs and prepared back to wait. ********************** Nick knelt beside her motionless body, clasping her hand, his back turned to his master. "Damn you, Nicholas." She watched, from some safe, unknown place as the stake started to come down.... The sound of the door sliding back awakened her with a jolt. <> She clutched at her neck, felt her pulse throb with reassuring regularity. She looked up, still disoriented, as Nick entered the loft and came toward her. "Nat? What are you doing here?" <> She shuddered, forcing herself not to flinch back from his approach. Forcing herself to stand. She stole a glance at her watch. 2:30. She'd been there less than an hour. And yet, she felt as though she had lived and died an entire lifetime in that period. Realizing her mind was wandering again, she forced herself back to the present, forced herself to consider his question. <> "Tracy Vetter passed away twenty minutes ago." A look of terrible anguish crossed his face, eerily mimicking the Nick of her dream. Her nightmare. He crossed to the window, staring out into space, seeing nothing. "LaCroix thinks I'm a fool, bearing this guilt, trying to somehow atone for what I've done." He sighed. "Maybe he's right. All that's ever come of it is pain. And more death." Nat swallowed. His words had an uncomfortably familiar flavor. "That's not true!" she protested, even as she had done in the dream. "Tracy ... Cohen ... Schanke ... How many others over the centuries ... because of what I am?" "How many lives were you able to _save_ because of what you are? You've more than made up for what you've done." <> she told herself. <> Nick just shook his head, refusing to be comforted. "It's not enough. It's never enough." He finally looked at her. "I'm leaving, Natalie. Tonight." The words seemed to linger in the air. <> The words leapt to the tip of her tongue, pleading for expression. Somehow, she forced them back. The memory of that terrible dream, of all that was said and done, was still too fresh. Nick wasn't even a *man*, he wasn't her boyfriend; he was a vampire. And as desperately as she wanted him, as desperately as she longed for them to be together, she was no longer willing, as she had been when she arrived there, to count upon their love conquering all obstacles in its path. The dream had been a catharsis of sorts, releasing her from the grief and depression and mental torpor that had descended after Lora's death. Sorrow still burdened her, but the readiness to embrace death, to risk all on Nick and his uncertain feelings for her - and she knew they were uncertain, no matter how she tried to tell herself otherwise - had dissipated. She would survive this, she knew that now. She would even survive Nick's desertion, which she realized was inevitable, and imminent. There was life after death, for even as she experienced the death of her hopes and dreams of a future for the two of them, she knew that she could go on. That she still had a career, people who depended on her, and that someday, somehow, she might even find the strength to risk her heart again. <> She swallowed her protests, squeezed back the tears yet again, and forced herself to face him. "Yes," she heard herself say, as if from a great distance. "I know." "I have to, Nat," he hastened to explain. "I have to get away from here, away from you. You don't want my love, Nat. It will only destroy you." "It's all right," she said softly, holding up a hand to quell any further protests. "I understand." Later, later she would allow herself to be touched by this, to cry herself out, to mourn for all that could never be, but not now. For now, she would end this as quickly, as mercifully as she could, for both their sakes. She reached out and clasped his hand, forcing him to face her. Knowing it was the last time they would ever touch, the last time they would ever speak. "You leave tonight? With LaCroix?" Nick looked uncomfortable at the question, but nodded. "I want you to promise me something, Nick. Promise me you won't go back to what you were. Promise me you'll never stop trying to find a cure." Her eyes bored into his, compelling his assent. "I promise," he said softly, drawing her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly. "I won't give up. Ever. "And promise that if I can ever be of help, you will come to me." "I will." He tried to draw her closer, but she stiffened and pulled away. A moment's hesitation, then he let her go. She forced a smile and looked around, trying to remember everything: the room, the paintings, the eclectic selection of artifacts gathered over uncounted lifetimes. And most of all, his face, now marked with sad resignation, and, she suspected, not a little relief that she was making this so easy for him. "Goodbye, Nick." And then she was out the door, before he could stop her, or she could change her mind. She climbed into her car and drove about aimlessly, going nowhere in particular. But sunrise found her on the shores of Lake Ontario, watching the sun slowly climb the horizon. The sunrise they would never see together. She knew he would be long gone by now, his sudden disappearance a mystery the Toronto police department would never solve. The tears welled up again, and this time she allowed them to fall freely. A gentle tapping on the window called her back to reality some time later. "Miss? Are you all right?" She hastily blew her nose and wiped away her tears, smiling at the concern in the young police officer's face. After satisfying his curiousity with a vague explanation of recent loss and watching him walk away, she suddenly realized she was hungry. Her body was impatiently reminding her that it too had needs that had been too long neglected. Reminding her that she was alive. <