You Oughta Be Here With Me

by L'Phantom

Nicholas made his way through the Raven, dodging the patrons, mortal and immortal alike. The music was pumping loudly, adding to the lust on the dance floor. Nicholas let the feeling wash over him as he sensed the emotions of the dancers surge and pulse. He could almost feel their need thundering in his veins.

But none of that mattered anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. She was gone. But she was still here, in this place; in everything that he touched; sights, sounds.... The Raven was her domain, and now she was gone.

'Janette' he silently called out as he had countless times before, but this time, there was silence. That was what hurt the most, Nicholas decided, the silence. The not knowing. She... she hadn't even said goodbye.

And he went on. Since she left, he had faced amnesia, demonic possession, death by an antivampiric virus, and the ghost of his long-dead wife Alyssa, and for what? He was no closer to mortality and Janette was still gone.

Taking a bottle of blood-soaked wine and his tear-soaked memories to a corner booth, Nicholas proceeded to toast every memory he had of Janette. One at a time. Needless to say, when LaCroix found him, he was drunk. And he hadn't even gotten past the Renaissance.

"Nicholas, I'm worried about you."

"Leave me alone," was Nicholas's curt reply.

LaCroix ignored his progeny's advice and sat down beside him. He opened his mouth to say something to break down the wall Nicholas had put up, but Nicholas began speaking before he had the chance.

"She's never coming back, LaCroix. She's gone forever. I've loved her for over 700 years and just like that, she's gone." Nicholas snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"She has left us before and returned. You know that."

"She's not coming back this time. I can feel it."

"What you feel, dear Nicholas, is the effects of that nearly empty bottle in front of you. Stay the day here and sober yourself. Tomorrow night we will talk further."

"I miss her so much, LaCroix." Nicholas's voice broke halfway through the sentence.

"Yes, Nicholas, I know." And without thinking about how it might ruin his reputation, not to mention his new shirt, LaCroix put his arm around Nicholas and let his son cry on his shoulder.

Janette walked the lonely streets of... where was she now? Paris? Rome? She'd moved so much of late that she'd forgotten. Big Ben tolled in the distance. 'Ah, London,' she reminded herself. Unfortunately, when she thought of London, she thought of him; just like she thought of him whenever she thought of Paris, Rome, Venice, Berlin, Moscow, Vienna, and a thousand other places.

She thought back, as she usually did when plagued by him, to that night so long ago when she had asked him, "How badly do you want me?" and he answered, but not with words.

But he didn't want her anymore. That spark of humanity had pulled him away from her. Now all he wanted was his mortal; his doctor. For months, she had been working up the courage to leave, and when she'd seen him with her, seen the look of love in his eyes, watched him kiss her tenderly on the cheek, Janette had finally had enough. She couldn't sit by and watch him slowly drift away from her.

So she'd left, leaving the Raven to LaCroix. (Inwardly, she cringed at the thought of what he might have done with the place.) She'd picked up a new companion along the way and together they'd traveled the world. But it was always the same: every building held a memory of him, and every blond-haired stranger bore his face. And they moved on. Another city, another batch of memories.

"Him again?" Her companion's voice stirred her back into reality.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Is there any place you two haven't been?" he asked incredulously.

Janette thought for a moment. "Antarctica?" she offered playfully.

"No, thank you," he laughed.

The two of them walked on until, in front of a Greek restaurant, Janette's new fledgling stopped and inhaled deeply before instinctively recoiling from the garlicky smell.

"Oh, man, that is the one thing I hate about being a vampire," he said remorsefully, "No more souvlaki!"

Nicholas's flip phone was ringing. It took two rings to wake him up; another four for him to assimilate that he was in the Raven and yes, it was his phone that was ringing; and two more for him to fish it out of his coat pocket on the floor.

"Yeah, Knight," he answered.

The voice on the other end paused before responding, "Nichola, mi amour?"