Date: Wed, 30 Jun 1999 16:10:05 EDT From: KhepriKa@AOL.COM Subject: Introspection (1/1) To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu This REALLY short piece was inspired by the quote below. The title pretty much says it all. You know how it goes. I don't own the characters or concept of Forever Knight, nor could I ever afford to. Mel, I give permission to archive if you so wish. Feedback is welcome. Introspection (1/1) By: Amaunet 1999 -~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ "People spend a lifetime searching for happiness; looking for peace. They chase idle dreams, addictions, religions, even other people, hoping to fill the emptiness that plagues them. The irony is the only place they ever needed to search was within." -~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Nick Knight sighed heavily as he slammed the door to his caddy. It had been another one of those days where he wished he could just close his eyes and never open them again. It was an idle wish and he had no intention of fulfilling it, but sometimes he just wanted the pain to stop. He felt as if he was drowning in the misery that had been his life for eight centuries now, and he simply wanted to feel happy again. To be able to breathe just once would be nice. He climbed the back stairs to his loft slowly, step by step. That's how he felt his life had been lately. Slow and tiring. One foot in front of the other, he had been trying to break free of the dark feelings that had been surrounding him lately. In a strange way, it had nothing to do with his ultimate quest, his search for mortality. He just wanted some peace and quiet. Opening the door to his loft, he was met with cool, quiet emptiness. It would be nice to have a living body share his life with him, if only for a little while. He normally loved his privacy and solitary lifestyle, but he had to admit that it was a bit overstated lately. Even Natalie put off visiting his loft, saying instead that she had work to catch up on. Rather than take her remarks at face value, he told himself she was just making excuses. He opened the refrigerator and took a bottle of bovine with him to the couch. His thoughts wandered to the crime scene he had just visited. Even he was repulsed, and he was sure visions of the mutilated bodies of nursery school children would haunt his dreams. He wondered at the depravity that would cause a human being to bomb a nursery school, but he didn't have to wonder for long. There was a time when he might have felt pleasure a the idea, a time long past that he was still struggling to bury. The nightmares didn't concern him. He was used to nightmares by now. He had come to expect them. He hadn't even realized that he had turned on the radio when he heard the familiar timbre of the Nightcrawler coming from the speakers. Suddenly interested, he listened attentively. "Tonight, my friends, I feel a certain melancholy. What disturbs you? Your miserable life, your worthless dreams and aspirations, or your failure to fulfill them? How can you ever mend the mistakes you have made in the past, you ask? "What will make you happy? Money? Friends? Love? Children? I rather protest that neither of these silly aspirations is the salve for your wounds. You need only look within to find the source of your darkness...." LaCroix's voice was traded for strains of soft music, and Nick turned it off. Reclining on the couch with his bottle of blood in hand, his thoughts turned within to the source of his misery. He had tried so hard to let go of his past, but there was just no possibility of forgetting it. He longed for the happiness he saw in the every day lives of mortals. He often wondered if he was cursed as he spent the past couple of centuries in search of peace. In many ways he had tried to extricate himself from his own darkness. The concept is not as simple as it sounds, almost like attempting to rid oneself of a part of the soul. He once pretended it was all right, that the bodies nightly deposited in discreet locations really weren't there. But such pretenses often fail. So he turned to religion. Joan of Arc was only the first step in his return to Christianity. He had never really lost his faith, and he had found it easy to regain. But faith alone did not bring him peace, especially when he found it could not feed him at night, appease his thirst or heal his wounds. He still believed in God, but he could do little to enforce that belief while trapped in a damned body. The revelation only last month that his soul was still in a state of considerable disrepair did nothing to enforce his belief in a forgiving God. And now that Nick thought about it, his failure to find peace through money or religion lead him to delve into the mortal world and try to repent for his sins. His various attempts at redemption in the last century were truly helpful. He found that helping others caused him to help himself. There was something in the smile of a grateful person that warmed his cold heart. It was at these times that he so longed to be mortal and experience the happiness and simple peace that he saw around him. The same thing had happened tonight when he managed to save a few children from the collapsed nursery school building. It was only at times like these that he *felt* mortal. The ability to give and love is a mortal trait, one not often shared by his kind. He had found peace in the warmth of other people, and hope in his ability to give and love and preserve life. Feeling much happier that he had a few minutes ago, Nick firmly corked his bottle and replaced it on the shelf in the refrigerator. He turned to the phone and dialed a familiar number. "Hello?" Nat's tired voice answered from the other end of the line. "Nat! Do you want to come over and have breakfast with me?" He asked hopefully. A pause. "Nick, I have a lot of work to do with the bombing and all, not to mention a new string of robbery casualties." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if the world's gone mad." "Yeah, I think I know what you mean. But it's only breakfast. If you still want to, you can return to work as soon as possible." Natalie laughed. "As if your company can ever compare with mutilated bodies. All right. I'll be over in five minutes only on the condition that you eat with me." Nick readily complied. The conversation ended with some light banter, after which he replaced the receiver. With Natalie around, his life was somehow easier to bear. End. -~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Feedback is cheerfully received at: