Disclaimers: All charcters in this story belong to the guy who created them in the first place (thats right, James Parriott and Co.) and will be given back when I have finished playing with them. As always I am not making money outta this and I don't own the characters (though I wish I did).

Everything Will Be Alright!

Tracy was fuming. She started to kick the wall of her apartment she lived in, upsetting the neighbours with the noise. They probably think a nutcase lives next door to them. She didn't care, however. It was either kick down the walls in anger, or lay in a heap and cry. She wasn't about to cry.

That bastard hypnotised her into forgetting and it was all her partner's fault. She was still angry about that.

She still went to the Raven to see if he magically was back again. She heard two patrons of the club talking about her love, however. Told her the truth.

Vachon was old, something like 500 or something like that. He was a vampire, she loved him. It was so unfair. He was dead, buried next to Screed. He wasn't supposed to be dead. He couldn't die.

Tracy had visited his grave that night, a bunch of calla lillies under one arm, a bottle that she had found in the chuch in her other hand. She had put them on his grave and sat staring at the mound of dirt.

She had gone back to the Raven, then. To drink away her sorrow. Her memory was coming back now. It was her that made the fatal blow, holding the stake up as he slammed his body onto it, hitting his heart. Tracy had killed Vachon., the only person she had ever truly loved.

Thinking at the time she had drank too much, she saw her partner walk in to the club and go to the bar. It looked as if he was waiting for someone. A man called LaCroix, a guy she had met on a case not long ago, greeted Nick. He had looked straight at her, knowing she was there. He was a vampire too, she was sure of it. He had scared Vachon.

What was her partner doing there? He left soon after. Maybe he was trying to get info out of LaCroix? That was a very scary thought.

Tracy got into a taxi and went home, too drunk to walk all the way, not without falling flat on her face anyway. She still couldn't believe she remembered that night.

Everything was different now, however. Vachon had stayed dead, or he was hiding from her somewhere. She had visited his grave every night since learnng of his death.

Then she found out Nick was a vampire. She should have guessed. Should have known he didn't need backup. Would never had been shot, then. She still hurt sometimes, got headaches a lot. She wouldn't be alive now if the bullets hadn't gone through Nick first.

She had died at one point, however. The doctors were able to bring her back. Tracy hadn't crossed over, never became a vampire. Maybe there hadn't been enough of Nick's blood on the bullets. She was still angy that he hadn't told her that he was a vampire. Even though he knew she wouldn't tell anybody.

Nick, thinking her gone for good, had run into Natalie's arms, only to kill her in a moment of passion. Natalie and Tracy hadn't been that good of friends, but it hurt to find this out.

When Nick got the call that they had brought her back, he was then about to move on, never return to Toronto again. He was both guilt ridden and grieving about Nat's death. Tracy needed to talk to her partner before he left.

Through her whole time in the hospital, he would come and visit her. He was the one to look after her until she was well enough to go back to work. Helped her home, if she got too tired. Nick had been there for her.

When Nick told her he was moving on, she had cried. He had overstayed his time in Toronto for her, people were beginning to notice he looked really good for his age. She lost the only person she could talk to about Vachon. At least he had said goodbye to her.

Anger replaced any sadness she felt. She had become bitter and yelled at everyone. They started calling her Nick's nickname, the Nightmare. Without the K. To everybody but her, Nick was shot in the line of duty and died.

She had quit the force, not long after Nick had left. She lived at her apartment, hardly ever going outside the door. She was kept alive from the money and food her dad sent to her.

She could hear the neighbours banging on their side of the wall. She stopped kicking it.

It had been 3 years since Vachon's death, 2 since Nick had moved on. For the first time, since the anger crept into her life, she felt like crying. She slid down the wall, a limp pile of skin and bones, shaking on the ground. Tears began to fall silently down her face.

Tracy was fed up of everything. She wanted out.

Walking into her kitchen, she pulled out the biggest knife she had, got ready to strike the fatal blow over her wrist.

She cried out loud, in shock, when someone took the knife out of her hand. She cried even harder, making it impossible to see who it was. She fell into the persons embrace.

At one stage, she must have fallen asleep. Tracy woke up in her bed, something lying next to her. She remembered somebody stopping her from killing herself. Looking at the thing next to her, all she saw was long, black hair.

An image of her love jumped into her mind. Pulling the sheets back, she was staring into Vachon's eyes.

"Hello Querida." He said.

Tracy gave a cry of joy and clung herself to him. He was alive.

"I'm sorry" He said. "Don't worry, everything will be alright!" And it was.

Finis.

So what do you think of this one folks. Feedback welcome, flames extinguished immediately, so none of them please.

Stories Page!
Home Page
Updates Page