This is set just before "Ashes to Ashes."

***

He was old, sure, but not as old as some. He hadn't lived his time as well as he would have liked.

Sitting in the middle of the tumble-down church-- so empty now, without Screed-- Vachon thought about his life. Good or bad, he'd lived on his terms, in his own way. Such fun they'd had; wild times, long nights of blood-drenched laughter and emotion.

Then one night, in the clear eyes of a mortal woman who hid herself behind a thousand walls, he came face to face with everything he didn't have. He stopped running.

Why Tracy Vetter? He'd asked himself a thousand times. He'd met women who were more beautiful, who were smarter or funnier or sexier. He'd met women-- he'd killed women.

He didn't want to kill Tracy. He wanted to know her. He wanted to understand what hid behind those walls. More than anything, he wanted to break those walls down and show her the goodness, and honesty, and love waiting for her.

Of course, he was the wrong man-- wrong vampire-- to show her that world.

He picked himself up from the ledge, brushing his jeans off as he rose. Maybe it was time to get someplace to live where he could actually see the floor. Knight-- he had a nice place. Big. Clean. Even Urs had that little studio she liked so well. But he still lived in a hovel, despite the money he'd put away. It had seemed more like a home when Screed was alive.

He missed his friend every minute of every night. Maybe the reason he was assessing his life was because Screed was gone. Screed died in his arms from a virus they didn't understand until it was too late for the old boy.

Vachon paced across the floor, back and forth, his eyes narrowed. When Screed died, everything had changed. Here he was, thinking about Tracy in ways he had no right to consider. He couldn't see her choosing to become a vampire; something inside her recoiled at that side of him even as the rest of her was attracted to him. He certainly didn't want to be a mortal.

But maybe, just maybe, they could work things out...

The phone rang, and he knew before he answered that it was Urs. He'd been feeling their connection more strongly of late. Vachon felt her worry and her fear-- and lately, her sheer panic at the nightmares plaguing her.

"Urs."

"Vachon?" Her voice was rough. She'd been crying, and Vachon felt his fists tighten instinctively, protectively at the sound. "Can you come over?"

"I'm on my way." He tried to make his voice warm, sending comfort over the phone line and through the invisible tie that would always bind them together. Her stifled sob on the other end told him it wasn't doing much good.

The nightmares were more powerful.

Hanging up the phone, Vachon glanced around for his jacket and found it crumpled on the floor. He picked it up and brushed off the dust half-heartedly, his thoughts turning back to Tracy.

He'd have to talk to Tracy. Eventually.

After all, they had plenty of time.

**

Back to the main FK Fiction Page