I give permission for this story to be archived.  (If you think it's good enough.)

****************


"Forever Knight", Nicholas Knight and Lucien LaCroix beloved characters of James Parriot.

Forgive me - I have seen one episode and was mesmerised.  I shall return from whence I
came, hoping only that those of you who know this fandom will at least enjoy my flirting with
the dark side.

elfin


m/m implied

"Ever-Decreasing Circles"
by elfin

        'I should sleep through the day, but like those mortals who find themselves forever
staring up into the moonlight and asking why, I sit with a candle flame dancing before me, the
blinds drawn to the sun's deadly rays.  I need sleep, as they do, yet it does not come easily
some days, and I sit here thinking back over countless memories of days like this one, and
nights such as they always are. 

        How do I stave off the hunger craving that always swamps me?  How do I ignore my
own, most basic need, the pulsing in my mind that keeps me what I am, and that ensures only
the sunlight, or a torturous stake will free me from this wretched existence?  And yet, I have it
so much better than some I see around me.  Night brings out the worst in mortals, as it brings
out the worst in us.  Ghosts and spirits rule the dark hours, walking amongst those, who like
me are forced - for one reason or another - to exist in the darkness.  People sleep through
these hours, for it is easier than facing the things that come to haunt them.  Thus the nightmares
remain as dreams, and are easily forgotten when the sun rises. 

        I do not have that luxury.  My nightmares begin when I awaken to the moonlight.  They
are never forgotten.  Eight hundred years I have lived like this, I barely remember myself
before LaCroix gave me this gift, this horrific gift of his love for me.  I have asked him a
thousand times why he chose me: crying, screaming through the link that binds us, driving him
wild with my torments; with that which torments me.  There was never a reason, never a point.
He wanted me and I became his.  I cannot even remember if he gave me the choice, if I chose
this fate.  Would I have chosen this at the moment of death?  If he had ever loved me would he
have cursed me to this existence?'

        The candle was torn from the holder and thrown across the apartment, shattering with the
force with which it hit the darkened wall.  The three remaining flames flickered in sympathy.
The young vampire sunk back into the sofa, hugging the cushion to him, forcing his anger away
from the surface, drawing the tattered remains of his soul back over the horror it barely hid. 

        'I should be thankful for what I have managed to become.  I have control over the terror
I can be.  I have a purpose beyond that of my fellow kind.  I have... friends, life long friends
whom I have to accept that I will one day lose.  I hide the real me - if any of that still remains
inside - from so many, showing myself to so few, because for all the hurt and pain my
revelation brings to myself and others before understanding; they always eventually leave me,
taking that part of me which I gave to them, leaving me a little less each time.  Or maybe that
is why I tell, still, after all these years; I believe that each mortal soul that dies, knowing me so
well, takes a small part of me to the Holy grave with it.  Have I the right to still believe I could,
one day, be at peace with all those I have lost?  Did I relinquish that right, forever more, when
I gave myself - when I was taken - by my immortal father?

        I miss the sunlight.  I have often considered looking upon it for one last time.  But I am
afraid.  I have seen that death occur to others like me.  A painful, crucifying death that would
not restore my soul to its mortal glory for my last moments on this earth.  So I stay as I am,
grasping at straws I do not even know exist.  I have friends.  I have a life.  I have others
around me who understand who and what I am.  And I have him.  Close by.  Near to me, lest
I give in and return to his side.  I know he still wants me there, I know I am still the one he
dotes over.  He always protected me, throughout history he kept me away from the harm
others threatened.  It would be too easy, and too high a price to pay if I ever joined him again...
yet... I still consider it, at times like these.  I am too often alone.  He at least would bring me
something; companionship, love, a sense of true belonging.  Something I cannot deny tempts
me each night and each day.  And yet I never go to him.  I see him, I see the need, the
questions in his eyes; eyes no one else can read anything in.  I always reject him, push him
away with a simple, harsh thought.

        I am alone.  I am hungry.  I am getting desperate.  Through the nights I live a lie.
Through the days the truth catches up to me.  Has it always been like this?  There were times
I laughed at the moon, felt another's arm around me, another's touch on my pale, needy skin.
I know I can live like this, I know I still smile more often than not.  But sometimes, when the
days are long and sleep does not come easily, when my hunger becomes painful, too difficult
to ignore, I plead with myself to let go.  And I never can.  I never can.'

        Blood-tinged tears soaked into the cushion held close to Nicholas' chest.  His
desperation and pain flooded the link that connected him eternally to his master, and after a
time, he was no longer alone.
 
        Lucien gazed in sorrow at his favourite.  Would he have still taken this man if he could
have seen the future pain his gift would bring?  He laughed inside, at himself and his own
delusions.  Of course he would.  When had the truth ever stopped him from taking whatever
he wanted, from killing, from damning.  He gently reached over and touched the golden
hair that was so soft beneath his fingers. 
        "Why do you suffer so, Nicholas?"  His voice stayed soft, quiet, not wanting to startle
this time.  No reply was forthcoming and he moved closer.  "You need to feed, my child."
        "Leave me alone."  The usually warm, low, so seductive voice was rough now with pain,
with the agony of proximity. 
        "Please, Nicholas.  You do not have to live like this, you do not have to cry away the
days and pretend at night that all is well.  You cannot live for eternity denying yourself that
which you need most."
        "I cannot...."
        Lucien understood Nicholas' words; they stabbed at his heart like the point of a dagger.
"Why do you shy away now, after so long?  Please, son, you are only hurting yourself." 

        LaCroix lifted his right arm and with mastery of skill he slit his own wrist; a short
incision from the base of the hand to the cuff of his shirt.  Blood spilt slowly, yet the innate
call drove a cry of feral pain from the young vampire curled into the corner before him.
Lucien offered his own wrist to his child, as Nicholas raised his head, his torment now
physically expressed.  Neither could do anything to stop the hunger from taking hold.
Nicholas wrapped long fingers around his master's arm and buried his fangs in the proffered
flesh, his tongue lapping as the blood seeped from the wound, drinking as the skin healed.
Lucien's voice murmured soft reassurances as Nicholas took from his.  The young one's
tears still fell even as he fed, slowly dying a little more despite needing this. 

        After a time, LaCroix pulled his arm away with ease.  He would need to feed now, he
would have to leave Nicholas alone with the aftermath of what he had just done.  He had no
choice, but he would return.  He did not utter a single word, but leaned forward to place a
soft kiss in the golden hair he so cherished.  And then he was gone.

 
        'The candles are out now.  Another night begins and I go from here to join my friends,
those who know me and those who don't.  Yet they all still are fond of the Nicholas they
know - and they each know someone different.  Who am I?  Can I forever live like this,
turning to LaCroix when everything seems lost and pointless.  Moving from place to place,
life to life, carrying my dreams with me, cherishing and protecting them and never letting
anyone see that which I shall never have.  Would others give to see the history I have seen?
Or is it truly a price too high to pay for any man; day for night, light for dark, wine for blood,
soul for immortality.  As for me, I know I will never stop searching for a way out, for an
escape.  Even if one day that means facing the sun one last, agonizing, yet blissful time.'




fin
elfin

jane@burble.u-net.com
elfin@burble.com