This story is based on the Forever Knight television series created
by J. Parriott and B. Cohen. The characters belong to TPTB at Sony
and Columbia, who graciously allow us to play with them from time to
time. No copyright infringement intended. Story is copyrighted to me.

Permission is granted to archive at Mel's FK fanfic site and
Michael's ftp site.  Anyone else, please ask.

What can I say? It popped into my head and wouldn't let go until I
wrote it. Hope you enjoy.



Picture Her Waiting 
By Cindy Ingram

She had moved on with her life. Why did it surprise him? It was what
he'd wanted her to do. He'd said as much in the letter that he'd left
for her. And it was what he'd told himself that night as he'd stood
outside her building, desperate to catch one final glimpse of her
face.

But somehow, in the intervening years, he'd always pictured her
waiting.

Now, he'd come back, returning to a place he'd never thought to see
again. Not in this century, at least. He'd tried so hard to sever all
the ties, to bury the memories with time and distance. Bury them so
deeply that he wouldn't feel the pain.

In the end, however, there'd been no denying the indefinable force
that had drawn him back to this city, this life that should have been
his but never would be.

An existence that he'd dreamed of for far too brief a time -- a
nebulous life, an impossible love.

His breath caught in his throat as her face turned his way. He
instinctively drew back, afraid she might see him. But her eyes were
on the tall man at her side, the one who had laughingly embraced her,
bestowing a quick kiss on her forehead before leaning down to whisper
something in her ear. Her face lit up, and her laughter floated out
onto the sidewalk where Nick stood, separated from her by a plate
glass window and years of lost opportunities.

It was the only sound in the world. The steady roar of passing
traffic, the muffled conversations of other diners in the restaurant
faded to insignificance. There was only her laughter and her smile. A
smile that had once belonged to him alone.

But it wasn't his anymore. It belonged to the man ... and to the
child who giggled and clapped as a huge birthday cake with
pink-and-white frosting was placed on the table before her. It
belonged to the other children and adults who cheered and laughed as
a bow-shaped little mouth did its best to blow out three brightly
colored candles.

The view through the restaurant window held him spellbound,
tormenting him and delighting him at the same time. There was so much
of her mother in that little girl. Chestnut curls, big blue eyes and
a brilliant smile that could warm the coldest heart. As it had once
warmed his.

He hadn't known she'd had a daughter. He hadn't let himself know. To
have followed the course of her life, to have watched her from afar
would have been sheer folly. His resolve to stay away would never
have been strong enough to withstand such temptation.

So he'd set up a trust fund, arranged for her needs to be anticipated
and met -- in a suitably discreet fashion, of course -- and denied
himself all knowledge of her from that moment on. He was only to be
contacted in the event of a serious complication.

He had heard nothing.

But it hadn't stopped the dreams. She was there, every time he closed
his eyes and even when he didn't. Teasing him, laughing with him,
lecturing him and loving him. Yes, loving him, night after night and
day after day, the way they'd never dared in their brief time
together.

The unfulfilled longing had nearly driven him mad. But deep down, in
a very small corner of his heart, he had believed that some day, he
would find a way back to her. That hope, however impossible it
seemed, had given him the strength to go on and the courage to try
and fail ... and try again.

For through it all, he had always pictured her waiting.

The first blow had come when he'd called her office. They'd told him
her name wasn't Lambert anymore. The second had come when he'd waited
for her shift to end and followed her home. She'd been
enthusiastically greeted by a flying bundle of curls that had
launched itself through the front door and into her arms.

The third and final blow had come at the restaurant, when a
dark-haired man had walked through the door and taken his place at
her side. As he watched the man's rugged features soften in a tender
smile,  Nick turned away ...

And pretended that the tears in his eyes came from the near-blinding
light of a sun that warmed his face on a late afternoon in Toronto.

------- 

FINI

Comments eagerly welcomed at cgi271@airmail.net 
Cindy Ingram 
What's another word for thesaurus? ("Say good Knight, Gracie." - G.
Burns)