From: "George Gorby" To: Subject: Submission - "In Memoriam" Date: Thu, 11 Mar 1999 10:59:51 -0500 Mel - I don't know if I'm doing this right, but if I am,could you post this at your FK fanfic site? Thanks. "In Memoriam" , by Morgaine, CotK This is a poem challenge, and also an End-of-the-Knight story. I quote from Alfred, Lord Tennyson's "In Memoriam, A.H.H.". He wrote it, not me. I love the poem - I wouldn't steal it. (Besides, if I get sued I'll have to pay in Tic-Tacs.) This takes place after "Ashes to Ashes". Mild spoiler for "Ashes to Ashes"; I also borrow a little dialogue from "Last Knight". *This is my version of a final FK episode, to help me say good-bye, though hopefully not forever.* Forever Knight was created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen (all hail them!), I'm just borrowing it. **Questions, comments and 10-Q forms to Morgaine at ggorby@worldnet.att.net** To Forever Knight's cast, crew and fans everywhere - I love you guys. Also to everyone working to Kickstart the Knight - we can do it. "In Memoriam" by Morgaine, CotK The sun set sadly, almost reluctantly, casting a pale light over Toronto, and no one thought much of it - indeed, few people bothered to take notice. In the city, hurried people rushed in and out of each other's lives, noticing only what seemed most important. There was always so much to do, and they did not have forever. Detective Nicholas Knight did, or so he had been told. But lately, he hadn't been so sure. In his dark loft, Nick fiddled with his remote control and the window blinds opened, revealing a bright city skyline and a waning moon. Nick frowned. the night was very young, and the stars had not yet appeared. To him, the sky never looked right without stars. Of course, very few things looked right to him lately. The answering machine clicked. "Yeah, Nick Knight. i'm either asleep, or I'm out serving and protecting. Leave a message." Beep. "Hi Nick, it's Nat. 'Serving and protecting'? You better not be - I told you to get some rest tonight. I mean it - doctor's orders. I'll be stopping by later to see how you are. If you're lucky, I'll be done with that possible cure I was telling you about. See you then." Beep. Nick shook his head. Natalie had been worried about him lately. He'd been listless, distracted, unfocused. She thought at first it was simply a bad mood, but they both knew it was deeper. To dispel the possibility of lack of sleep, she had confined him to the loft on this, his night off, with strict orders to rest. But sleep would not come. She had asked him only the day before if he recalled ever feeling this way before. He couldn't then, but did so now, with perfect clarity... ***************************************************************** (December 1833, England) It was a misty night. Without his enhanced vision, Nick would have had a great deal of trouble weaving his way through the cemetery. At last he came upon a figure, kneeling solemnly before a cold and silent grave. "Alfred?" The figure rose and turned. It was a rather tall man, with dark eyes and a serious face. He was dressed simply but warmly, and the cool night air did not seem to bother him. He smiled weakly, and nodded. "Hello, Nicholas. You've been gone long." Nick's eyes fell to the grave's marker. "Too long. I...I'm so sorry about Arthur. I would have come sooner, had I known." Tennyson nodded understandingly. "How did you find out?" "Emily. she told me I could find you here." "Yes," Tennyson said softly, "my sister makes it a point to always know where I am." He sighed. "Poor girl. He was her fiance, you know, as well as my closest friend. Have you ever lost a good friend, Nicholas?" Many. Too many. "Yes." "Hmm. Leaves you questioning your own mortality, does it not? Questioning God. But I think Arthur would have chosen to go when he did, to spare himself further pain. It's understandable." "Yes. Understandable. But would that choice have been wrong? Is it wrong to cast away life to avoid suffering?" "God only knows, Nicholas. as for me, I should think a life overshadowed by suffering is no life at all." ****************************************************************** Nick broke from his reverie, and strode swiftly to the large bookshelf. He pulled from it an old, well-worn copy of Tennyson's poetic eulogy "In Memoriam, A.H.H.". He thumbed through it, and softly recited the first verse his eyes fell on: "I sometimes hold it half a sin To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the soul within." The century-old words hit close to home. Nick dropped the book on the couch and buried his face in his hands. He did not weep, but stood quiet and motionless. The answering machine beeped, and LaCroix's voice, tinged with concern, followed. "Nicholas, come here. Now." Nick lifted his face. His eyes were tired, but tearless. He pulled on his jacket and took the elevator down to his prized 1962 Cadillac. Driving to the Raven, he turned on the radio, and the maddeningly-calm voice of the Nightcrawler filled the air. "I know what you're thinking," it whispered. Usually do, Nick replied mentally. "You're thinking of times long passed. Of loss. Of grief. Despair. And you're asking yourself, 'What is the use? Why bother?' It is not the first time you've thought this, and yet, you are more disturbed than usual. Some would have us believe that nothing man can do really matters, or lasts. We die, we turn to dust, c'est vrai? Well, not all of us... 'Tis a sad thing for a man to grow weary of the world, when the world, and its inhabitants, do not wish to give him up." ***************************************************************** (December 1833, England) Tennyson took some folded papers from his coat pocket, unfolded them, and looked from them to the grave for a few moments. Nick looked at him questioningly. Tennyson smiled. "I've been trying to compose a tribute to Arthur. Words so dull emotions...I'm not sure if it's coming out quite right." Nick leaned against the statue behind him. "Perhaps I could give an opinion, if you care to read some of what you have to me." "I'd be grateful for that, Nicholas. You did not know Arthur, but you are acquainted with loss. Perhaps my words shall help us both." Tennyson selected a paper and began to read it by moonlight. "My own dim life should teach me this, That life shall live for evermore, Else earth is darkness at the core, And dust and ashes all that it is; This round of green, this orb of flame, Fantastic beauty; such as lurks In some wild poet, when he works Without a conscience or an aim. What then were God to such as I? 'Twere hardly worth my while to choose Of things all mortal, or to use A little patience ere I die; 'Twere best at once to sink to peace, Like birds the charming serpent draws, To drop head-foremost in the jaws Of vacant darkness and to cease." ***************************************************************** Nick entered the Raven slowly, wearily, preparing himself for a lecture. LaCroix leaned his head out of the back room where he did his radio broadcasting, and gestured to Nick. Nick crossed the crowded dance floor and slipped into the back room, closing the door behind him. He faced LaCroix, who sat calmly with his hands folded on the table. "What is it, LaCroix?", he asked shortly. They had been getting along unusually well lately, but Nick was not in the mood to be lectured. "Sit down." Nick sat. "Not to be rude, LaCroix, but I can't be here too long. I'm not supposed to be out at all." LaCroix's eyes flashed with amusement. "And why is that, may I ask?" "Natalie's coming by later. She won't be too thrilled if I'm not there." LaCroix stared intently at his son for a moment. "the good doctor also told you to stay home tonight and rest. She's worried about you." Nick scowled. "Stay out of my head." "I would not have to invade your thoughts, Nicholas, if you were more open with me.' "What is it you want?" "I am concerned as well. I'd like you to tell me what's wrong." "Nothing." LaCroix rolled his eyes, and his voice took on the tone of an exasperated parent. "Something is wrong. I've been sensing it from you. You will tell me." His voice softened. "Please." After a moment of silence, Nick spoke hesitatingly. "I...I don't know. I feel old, and I don't know why." LaCroix nodded. "You were a young man when you became eternal. But time does not age us, Nicholas." He leaned forward. "Guilt does." "I suppose so," Nick said softly. He met LaCroix's concerned stare. "But it changes nothing, that truth. I can't let go of my guilt. I can't be how you want me to be. And I can't be who I want to be. I'm stuck." LaCroix leaned back into his chair. "Nicholas, the only thing I want you to be is yourself. But you can't be mortal. I wish would abandon this quest. Stop tormenting yourself, and be happy as you are. You must." "Natalie may find a cure. She's come close before." Anger filled LaCroix's face at this. "You know my feelings about that. I will not allow it." Nick stood. "Will not allow?! It's my life!" "A life I gave you." "After you took my first one." "I offered you eternal life. You accepted." "I was drunk. And you used Janette to trick me." LaCroix smiled at the memory. "True. Rather ingenious of me, I must say. But you have not always hated my gift. Do you want me to be sorry for giving it? I'm not. I won't be. And remember, Nicholas, had you not become a vampire, you would not have met Dr. Lambert." Nick calmed at the sound of her name. "All right. Fair enough. But, for her sake, I should not have met her." LaCroix smiled, believing he'd won. "Perhaps. Now maybe I could help you in some way." Nick stood motionless, eyes glaring with pain. 'I have to go." He turned and began to leave. "Nicholas." Nick looked back at the ancient vampire. "Yes?" "You cannot imagine how I felt when Divia told me she had killed you. Should you attempt to harm yourself, Natalie will suffer for it." "I know. I know." Nick left quietly. LaCroix watched him go, feeling a dull pain in his long-dead heart. He moved to his radio equipment, pressed a button and began to speak into the microphone, recalling a poem that Nicholas had always been fond of. "'I wage not any war with Death For changes wrought on form and face; No lower life that earth's embrace May breed with him that fright my faith. Eternal process moving on, From state to state the spirit walks, And these are but the shatter'd stalks, Or ruin'd chrysalis of one. Nor blame I Death, because he bare The use of virtue out of earth; I know transplanted human worth Will bloom to profit, otherwhere. For this alone on Death I wreak The wrath that garners in my heart: He put our lives so far apart We cannot hear eachother speak.'" LaCroix removed from his pocket a treasured oblect, a picture of himself and Nicholas before this strange life in Toronto, when Nick's quest had still seemed a futile game. He feared for his favorite child, that Nicholas might someday find his way back to the light, and be lost to him. Yet, he feared what Nicholas's despair might cause him to do, should the light be gone forever. Afraid, uncertain, unsure of what to do, LaCroix shook his head sadly, and spoke again. "'He put our lives so far apart, We cannot hear eachother speak.'" The dark room fell silent. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --- Nick lay on the couch in his loft, drifting in and out of sleep. He looked at the book clutched tightly in his hand. His eyes closed, and the memory returned... ***************************************************************** (December 1833, England) Tennyson left first that night, grateful and more confident for Nick' praise of his work. They parted as friends, warmly and happily, and would never see eachother again. His friend's heartfelt words had left him thinking of love and loss. Had he glimpsed the future then, Nick would have thought of the losses that were still to come, and the great, true love of his life - a gentle but strong woman, alovely creature who would offer him her hand and help to bring him back to the light he had so hastily renounced all those years ago. As Nick moved slowly through the night, among his thoughts rose Tennyson's voice, in and out of memory. "Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drown'd, Let darkness keep her raven gloss. Ah, sweeter to be drunk with loss, To dance with Death, to beat the ground, Than that the victor Hours should scorn The long result of love, and boast, 'Behold the man that loved and lost, But all he was is overworn.'" ***************************************************************** Nick was startled back to the present by the noise of the elevator. He sat up and quickly closed the blinds, as it was nearly sunrise. Natalie burst into the loft, out of breath and with joy in her eyes. In one hand, she clutched a small flask of some strange-looking liquid. "Something wrong, Nat?", he asked, rising. "No! Something's right! I've been going about this all wrong all this time!" "Going about what all wrong?", he asked, bewildered. "Your cure! You see, I..." She launched into a rapid, complicated scientific explanation that Nick did not understand a word of. "Nat? Nat!" "So after I isolated the nucleotides..." "Nat!" She stopped. Nick smiled. "What's the point?" Natalie smiled, and triumphantly held up the flask. "The cure." Nick's eyes widened, and narrowed again suspiciously. "You're sure it works?" "Well, it hasn't been tested yet, as you're my only vampire test subject, so we won't know till we try. But, this time, I'm willing to stake my career on it." Her face became serious. "Humanity is yours again, Nick, if you want it. We can be together...if that's what you want." "And shall I take a thing so blind, Embrace her as my natural good; Or crush her, like a vice of blood, Upon the threshold of the mind?" Nick shook away the unbidden words and his doubts. He kissed Natalie, and took the flask from her as he pulled away. "I love you, Natalie. Yes, that's what I want." He opened the flask. Tears of joy filled Natalie's eyes, and she held his free hand tightly. Nick raised the bottle to his lips. I'm sorry, LaCroix, he thought. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -- "Thy spirit ere our fatal loss Did ever rise from high to higher, As mounts the heavenward altar-fire, As flies the lighter thro' the gross. But thou art turn'd to something strange, And I have lost the links that bound Thy changes, here upon the ground, No more partaker of thy change." LaCroix sat quietly at the bar of the silent, empty Raven. sipping blood from a wine glass. Suddenly, he froze, wide-eyed, glass in hand. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -- Nick swallowed Natalie's concoction and set the empty flask down on the table. For a moment, time stood still as the two waited, anxious and anticipating. Suddenly, an odd look crossed Nick's face. "Nick, what is it? What do you feel?" He looked at her with an amazed, peaceful smile. He took her hand and placed it on his chest. Natalie laughed joyously and flung her arms around him. "Nick, your heart is beating!" Nick laughed with her and hugged her back. Arms still around her, he used the remote control to open the blinds on every window. Sunlight streamed in like banners and washed over these two, reborn in happiness and love. Nick stared in awe at the sun, rising rapidly, bringing a new day. Its warmth, long forgotten; and its glory, greater than in memeory, greeted him as a long-lost, long-missed friend. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --- "NOOOOOOO!" A cry of anger, sorrow and disbelief rose from the dimly lit main room of the Raven. Dismayed, LaCroix's mind frantically felt for Nicholas. The connection brought to him the words "I'm sorry, LaCroix", and was cut. For the first time in nearly 800 years, Nicholas's presence was undetectable. His fury rising like the waters of a flood, LaCroix stared in rage into the void created by this sudden the loss. The wine glass crumpled like paper in his hand. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -- With a sudden gasp, Natalie pulled away from Nick, now warm with life. Confused, he looked into her eyes, and saw fear there. "Nat, what's wrong?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "LaCroix. What will he do?" Nick's face fell. " Oh God. I forgot. Don't worry, Nat, we'll go away, somewhere he won't find us. It'll work - he can't sense me now." "Nick, some connections can never be broken. Even if he can't feel you, he knows you. And if he wanted to, he could find you anywhere." Nick put his arms around Natalie, hoping to comfort her. Making a half-hearted attempt to lighten the moment, he joked, "Maybe he won't take it so hard." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --- Growling like a caged beast, LaCroix one by one picked up each table and chair and threw it across the club. The carefully-stacked tower of wine glasses fell to the floor and shattered. Decorative objects and bottles of blood exploded against the walls. The Raven looked as though a hurricane had swept through it. LaCroix finally stood still amidst the destruction - eyes closed, fists clenched, breathing heavily - and managed to calm down enough to think. He sat down on the only surviving chair and waited. At sunset, he resolved, he would reclaim his own. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --- Nick and Natalie sat together on the couch, still happy, but worried about what would happen when the sun went down. They had already decided not to flee right away. LaCroix would find them eventually, and Nick knew that running away would only make him angrier, and give him an excuse to hurt Nick's friends. Fearing for Tracey and Captain Reese, and, deep down, not wanting to leave LaCroix without saying anything, Nick had decided to face his father, come what may. He tried to persuade Natalie to leave, to wait for him in a safe place. He knew a great deal of LaCroix's anger would be directed at her. But Natalie and Nick were bound together in fate as well as love, and she would not leave his side. There was really nothing to do but wait. Natalie broke the silence. "Nick, did LaCroix ever specifically tell you that he'd simply bring you back across, if you ever became mortal?" "Several times." "He can do that by force? But don't you ultimately choose to be a vampire or to die?" "Normally." Nick shook his head sadly. "But not under hypnosis. A vampire as old and strong as LaCroix can push just about anyone into doing just about anything." "What about resistors?" "Only more of a challenge to him. Nat, you should go. I won't be able to protect you from him. I'd never forgive myself if..." "I told you I'm not leaving." Nick stood up and went over to the window. The sun was setting. Natalie came up behind him, and they stood together, watching the day end. "LaCroix had one good point, Nat. If he hadn't brought me across, I would never have met you." She pushed him playfully. "Funny how good can come from evil, huh?" "Yeah. 'O, yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete; That not a worm is cloven in vain; That not a moth with vain desire Is shrivel'd in a fruitless fire, Or but subserves another's gain. Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last - far off - at last, to all, And every winter change to spring.'" "That's beautiful," said Natalie. "Who wrote it?" Nick smiled. "Old friend of mine." "What does it mean?" "That things happen for a reason. That in the end everything works out." "I hope so, Nick. I hope so." The sun was gone. "What a touching scene. But I think you both know how this has to end." At hearing the cold, familiar voice, Nick and Nat slowly turned and faced LaCroix. LaCroix glared at Natalie with venom in his eyes, and looked as though about to attack her. Nick pushed her behind him, and placed himself as a shield to guard her. LaCroix's face softened at the sight of Nick, and his voice was surprisingly calm. "Get out of the way, Nicholas." "I won't let you hurt her." LaCroix smiled, fangs revealed. eyes glowing red. He extended his hand towards Nick. "Then take my hand. Come back to me, and she will live." Nick hesitated. "I swear to you, Nicholas, if you take back my gift I will not harm her. Refuse, and I will bring you back across anyway, after I tear her throat out." Nick slowly began to reach out his hand. Natalie suddenly pulled him back. LaCroix growled menacingly at her. Her eyes met his, and she spoke calmly. "You can't win this fight, LaCroix. you know that I can cure Nick again. and keep curing him." "And I can keep bringing him back across." "For a while. I may find a cure that won't allow that to happen." "Not if I kill you first," LaCroix snarled. "Ah, but you lose that way too. Nick will never forgive you if you do. And I know that what he thinks of you matters to you. I know that you love him." LaCroix was taken aback by this, and his voice took on a softer tone. "Then perhaps you understand." "I understand that, all these years, you really have tried to do what's best for Nick. I understand that you're afraid." LaCroix's tone became haughty and cold again. "Do not, doctor, presume to tell me how I feel. I have killed many for daring less." Natalie's voice wavered, but she stood her ground. "Don't you see? the only way to keep from losing Nick is to let him be happy. Let him be mortal." "Out of the question. Mortals die." "Grief and regret can kill just as easily as bullets and knives, LaCroix." LaCroix said nothing. Nick spoke softly. "LaCroix, when I met Natalie, something changed in me. For better or worse, now and forever, I love her. I f I can't be with her, I don't want to be." LaCroix looked without words at his son for a moment. "I will bring her across, if you wish it." "No. I don't want her to know first-hand how I've suffered." This obviously hurt LaCroix. He sighed, and in a hushed voice whispered, "I...can't...lose...you." Nick realized then for perhaps the first time how much he meant to LaCroix. It was beyond ego and power, beyond words and situations. It wasn't, as Nick had long thought, about selfishness and possession. At the core, it was pure, unconditional love. Reassuring Natalie with a glance, he slowly stepped closer to his father, the guiding force in his life; loved and hated, wanted and unwanted, needed and despised in turns all these years. But only know, understood. "I'm going to die someday, LaCroix. I'm sorry. But if it's not of old age, it will be of loss and regret. Let me live my remaining years in the sun, with the woman I love, and I swear that you will always be part of my life. You will not lose me." Something changed in LaCroix at that moment. Maybe it was something the boy had said. Maybe it was the courage of Natalie, to challenge him like that. Or maybe it was Nicholas's young, mortal eyes. just as they had been that night so long ago when LaCroix had first seen him, now pleading with his master to understand, and accept. "And so," LaCroix began slowly, "in your eyes, I'm not the Devil?" "Of course not. You...are my closest friend." LaCroix's and Nick's eyes me, not in challenge this time, but in understanding. To their mutual surprise, they were able to speak telepathically, as if nothing had changed. <> <> <> <> Nick and LaCroix smiled at eachother, like children sharing a special secret. The connection was still there. Fate and love had bound them, and life could not separate them. To LaCroix's (and Natalie's) delight and surprise, Nick, for the first time in centuries, hugged his father with real feeling. LaCroix hugged him back, trying desperately to hold back his tears and retain some of his dignity. At last Nick pulled away, and took the hand of Natalie, who had come up beside him. Tennyson's voice rose again in the minds of Nick and LaCroix, and they smiled at his words. "Far off thou art, but ever nigh; I have thee still, and I rejoice; I prosper, circled with thy voice; I shall not lose thee tho' I die." Nick broke the silence. "Natalie and I both have to go to work, LaCroix, but we'd like you to come back before sunrise. We have a lot of plans to make, and we want you to be part of them." LaCroix smiled warmly at both of them. "I would be honored." His face became serious. "You will be careful, Nicholas? You no longer have your powers to depend on." "It'll take some getting used to. But yes, I'll be careful." "Good. Until later, then? After all, I do have a club to clean up." Before Nick or Nat could ask what LaCroix meant, he was gone, as quickly as he had come. Natalie and Nick left the loft, hand-in-hand, surrounded by the invisible, yet easy-to-see glow of love. It was still night, but in their hearts, a new day was dawning. Nick's long, painful quest had come to an end, but his life was just beginning...a life that would bring happiness and forgiveness, and each day would be heralded by the brilliant, golden sun that he would never have to fear again. *Epilogue* Morgaine brushed the tears from her eyes as she typed the last words of her ending for Forever Knight. She smiled with satisfaction as she scanned the last paragraph. "i'll miss you guys," she murmured softly. "But be happy. Thank you...for everything." Recalling the Tennyson poem she had used, and thinking fondly of her lost friends, Morgaine added: "Regret is dead, but love is more Thank in the summers that have flown, For I myself with these have grown To something greater than before..." FIN Adieu, mes amis...