Background:  Although this story isn't a direct sequel, Repayment
isn't a bad prelude, so if you want to mentally throw them into 
the same universe, go ahead.  I wrote this with the end of the 
second season in mind, but you're free to put it anywhere you can 
make it fit.

Disclaimer:  All the usual stuff.  The Raven belongs to Janette 
(and certainly not to Lacroix, whatever the third season might say).
The city of Toronto belongs to its inhabitants.  Everyone mentioned 
by name was created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen and currently belongs 
to TPTB.  As always, I'm distributing this without any hope of 
personal gain.


Falling
by Time Jordan

Nick paced restlessly through his loft, mentally replaying the 
events of the evening.  He had abandoned his earlier attempts to
take solace in music.  He couldn't sit still, couldn't concentrate.
The loft was both hollowly empty and stiflingly claustrophobic.  
He needed to get out, to go somewhere else.  He briefly considered
going for a drive, then rejected the idea.  That wasn't what he 
wanted.  Instead, he opened the window and took off into the night 
sky.  

The night was very clear and the cold air refreshing after the 
warmth of the loft.  He hardly realized where he was going until 
the Raven came into sight, and then his destination seemed suddenly
inevitable.  He needed to talk to her, needed her reassurance and
her unique perspective.  Nat had spoken to him afterwards, had 
pointed out that he would have to adjust to certain things if he 
ever achieved that elusive goal of mortality.  Mortality sometimes 
involved sacrifice, she had said.  She had given him the mortal 
perspective, and now he needed the counterbalance which would allow 
him to maintain his precarious balance on this wire between two 
worlds.

He contemplated Nat's words as he landed beside the club.  For all
of her sincerity, he thought that it had really been a rather 
half-hearted speech.  It seemed that lately he and Natalie had been 
drifting apart.  They still joked together, were still friends, but 
the depth of feeling was no longer there.  Natalie, he thought, was 
getting tired of waiting, was losing hope of finding a cure while 
she was still young enough for them to grow old together.  She was 
never less than encouraging with him, but he could read her with 
eight centuries of experience in observing the subtleties of human
behaviour, sharpened by this new emotional distance.  It was in her
tone when yet another attempt failed, in her posture as she 
recorded each new scrap of data, in her eyes when she proffered yet
another drink.  Natalie was running out of ideas.  He also suspected
that the ideal she had constructed in her dreams was becoming a 
little tarnished.  Too many years of waiting, of being forced to 
rely on dreams for fulfillment had made the reality a little less 
appealing.  He couldn't blame the slowly growing chasm entirely on 
her, though.  He had noticed in himself a resurgence of old patterns
of behaviour.  The requisite emotional detachment of a being 
destined to outlive almost everyone he knew had resurfaced.  It was 
not a skill he had ever been particularly good at, and that lack had 
been the cause of a great deal of pain for him over the years.  He 
wondered briefly if he was finally mastering it, then pushed the 
thought aside as he entered the Raven.  His attention focused 
entirely on the elegant woman on the other side of the loud, 
smoke-filled room--the other reason for his emotional withdrawal.    

He paused at the entrance for a moment, savouring her presence and 
wondering how he could ever have forgotten how beautiful she was.  
She knew he was here, of course.  He could not have disguised his
approach even if he'd wanted to.  It was an old game of theirs, 
this admiring from a distance.  A reenactment of the old rules of 
courtly love, though with a far more satisfying conclusion than 
was ever granted to a knight and his Lady.  It was one more step 
in the dance they had been conducting since he had first come to 
the club, three years after his arrival in Toronto.  He had resisted
for as long as possible, not wanting to disturb the delicate balance
of his new life, not wanting to be tempted to return to a life he
had sworn to leave behind.  In the back of his mind he had known
that it was only a matter of time.  Why else come to Toronto, if not
for her?  If he had truly wanted to avoid her, he would have buried 
himself somewhere in Africa or Australia.  It was a dance that 
continued each time he came to see her, for advice, for help.  

Janette felt the eyes on her, and knew at once who they belonged to.
Only one person's gaze could evoke such warmth in her.  She 
purposely avoided looking at him, letting her eyes drift casually 
across the club as though she were unaware of the intensity of his 
attention.  Another step in the dance; more circling while the fire 
built.  There was something odd about his attention tonight though, 
an undertone that hadn't been there before.  A shift in their silent 
music.  She sensed it at once when he finally approached her and 
drew her hand to his lips in a gesture reminiscent of times past.

"Bon soir, Nicolas.  How do you like my new sound system?  I just 
had it installed last week."

"It's very loud."

"Oui, je sais.  The mortals like it that way.  With all of the new
clubs in town, I decided I should upgrade."

"Keeping up with the competition?"

"Well, it wouldn't do to have the club populated entirely by our
kind."

"Yeah, people might notice a club where no one ever came in or out.
Especially if it was always full."

"Not to mention the cost.  One advantage of mortal patrons is 
that they actually pay for their drinks.  I do wish they didn't 
insist on improving their technology quite so quickly, though.  
Larry Merlin is insisting that my computer is out of date, and I 
only bought it two years ago."

He grinned.  "Life's tough in the Information Age."

"So the newspapers claim.  But then, they never lived through the
Inquisition.  Have things been *tough* for you lately, Nicolas?"

The grin disappeared.  "In a manner of speaking.  Something happened
tonight, Janette."

"This sounds serious."

"It is."

She took a quick breath and released it.  "Did you kill someone?"

"No."  Nick glanced away from her for a moment, towards the twisting
bodies veiled by smoke.  "Can we talk somewhere else?"

She nodded and led him away from the noise to her own rooms in the 
back. 

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thanks."

She poured a glass for herself and sat down on the couch, looking
up at him.  "So?"

He stared on a painting on the far wall.  "I saved someone tonight.  
A child."

Janette relaxed.  "Is that all?  I thought that's what police 
officers were supposed to do.  To serve and protect."  Nick 
continued to look silently at the painting as if mesmerized by the 
play of colour on canvas.

"There's more to it than that, isn't there," she said.  "What 
happened?"

"A boy fell from a balcony.  I caught him."  Such a small incident, 
and yet so very important.  They had been at a crime scene.  Yet 
another innocent dead, another unique, potentially marvelous 
intersection of all of the phenomena of the universe wasted.  
Standing over the body, a faint sound had caught his attention.  He 
had followed it around to some balconies overlooking an ally.  His 
sudden departure had drawn a curious look from Natalie, but Schanke 
had been too busy conversing with a witness to even notice.  He had 
looked up, almost convinced that he had imagined it, when he saw a
fluttering movement high above.  Then suddenly the boy was falling 
and he was in the air.  He could still remember the solid feel of 
the child's small body in his arms as he caught him.  He had 
returned the boy to his balcony, hypnotized him into forgetting the 
fall, forgetting the flying man, and added a warning about balcony 
safety for good measure.  It was over.  No forms to fill out, no 
reports to file.  Just a six year-old boy asleep in his bed, and the 
knowledge that if he were anything other than what he was, that boy 
would now be dead.  

"So your abilities allowed you to save him."

"Yes.  And I realized that if Natalie had succeeded, if I were 
mortal, I couldn't have saved him.  I wouldn't even have heard him."
He was used to people dying because of what he was.  It had been 
that way for centuries.  The idea that someone might be alive 
because of what he was was new.  He'd felt a certain amount of
wonder at the thought, and a touch of fear.  It could so easily
have been otherwise.

"You know the limitations of mortality, Nicolas.  You live among 
them.  You must have plenty of chances to observe it."

He looked towards her finally, his countenance serious, almost 
sombre.  

"Natalie said something similar.  She also pointed out that vampire
or not, the boy would still have died if I hadn't happened to be
there."  If someone else hadn't died.  Did that give their death
meaning?  Would their soul take comfort from that?

Janette looked away.  "Perhaps you ought to listen to her, then."
She refused to show him what it cost her to make that suggestion.  
It's his choice, she reminded herself sternly.  She had never tried
to be fair, to be honourable before.  She had never realized that it
was so hard.

"Nat said that limitations are something I'll have to accept if I 
become mortal again."  He paused.  "I'm not sure I can accept it.  
So many have died because of a choice I made eight centuries ago.  
I don't know if I could live with the knowledge that more have died 
because of another choice of mine."

"Poor Nicolas.  No matter what you do, you suffer.  You must have
learned by now that every choice has consequences.  If you remain
as you are...if you become what you were...there will be 
consequences...for you, for me, for Natalie."

"I know," he said quietly.  He sat down beside her.  "I've been 
thinking about that."

"Oh?  And what have you concluded?"  

"I don't know.  This quest has been a part of me for so long, I'm 
not sure what I would do with myself if I gave it up.  I need time 
to decide."

"Don't take too long, Nicolas.  You may have an eternity, but 
Natalie does not.  If you aren't going to try to become mortal in 
this lifetime, you should tell her.  She deserves to have more in
her life than an empty dream.  She can't wait forever."

"I know," he repeated.  "And you, Janette?  How long will you wait?"

She took a sip from her glass and set it down on the table beside 
her.  "As long as it takes."

He looked into her eyes, and she gazed back steadily.  Pools of
blue, so tempting to dive in and never resurface.  He could feel
himself faltering on the wire.  It would be so easy to fall, knowing
that she would be there to catch him...

"I'll try not to take too long," he said.

"Natalie will appreciate that," she replied.  She broke their gaze 
and shifted around until she could lean against him.  He wrapped 
his arms around her, holding her close.

"Je t'aime, Nicolas.  Whatever you decide."

"Thank you," he said.  "For giving me the choice."

They sat together in silence for a long time.


end part 01/01


************************************
Time Jordan 
Dark Knightie/Immortal Beloved

Comments, praise, and criticism are all welcome.

    Source: geocities.com/timejordan/Fanfiction

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