Work Text:
Dear Helen,
Since losing my vampirism, I…
Nikola tapped his pen rhythmically on the desk, struggling to put into words his intentions. The silence in his mind stretched until finally it reached a breaking point and he continued,
...I don’t know who I am, or where I’m going in life any longer. Becoming mortal (again) has cut off my sense of the future, like a bird with clipped wings.
He sighed heavily, rubbing his aching neck, then twisted his head while opening his jaw, feeling the tangle of sinew and bone stretch painfully then release with a crack. The old injury from his college days had never really healed, even during his time as a vampire.
He could still feel the shock of the frigid water and the crushing pain as the rapid current slammed him face first into the stone pillar of that damned bridge. The memory of his youthful attempted suicide still playing through his mind, he wrote,
Maybe the future was over rated anyway. I don’t know. People said I was a dreamer my whole life, and maybe they were right. Seeing how things are turning out, it’s not good for my mental state.
Nikola growled and ripped up the paper, hating the defeatist ramblings, then reminding himself that this was supposed to be a means of finding closure, he started over again.
Dear Helen,
Since losing my vampirism, I no longer have a good sense of identity and direction in life. It’s regrettable that you have refused to help me in my aim of restoring my immortality. Since you believe that I’m not worthy of the gift that you yourself originally gave me, I feel that our association has…
The newly mortal man felt the weight of over a century pressing down on him as he paused, unable to finish the sentence. He slumped and whispered, “...come to an end.” then shook his head and wrote instead,
...become dysfunctional, characterized by distrust and conflict which increasingly leads to stalemate. Taking a break seems like the logical choice at this time.
Stopping to read over his words, he tapped his pen on the desk again, not enjoying the feeling of anxiety coursing through his veins. If he left, in his weakened state, what would happen to him? The fear that had dogged him his entire mortal life made him clench his jaw and he grimaced at the creaking sensation of bones grinding together. His teeth ached again today...Breathing in deeply, he deliberately forced himself to relax, trying his best to get a hold of himself, then continued writing,
But despite my love of science, you know me too well to ever believe that I can truly be a logical man.
Helen, I still love you. Even if you refuse to give me what I want. Even if I hate the fact that we disagree on the nature of the power science and technology holds for mankind. Even if your conscience won’t let you…
He muttered under his breath resentfully, “...give me what I need to make the world actually work!” but wrote,
...‘play god’ as you put it. And I’m willing to admit now, I’m in trouble and I do need your help. With more than my immortality, it’s true.
Unwilling to put it in more specific terms in writing, Nikola sighed, ran a frustrated hand through his hair and talked to himself, “Helen, I wish I were better...But this is all I can do. The apple can’t fall far from the tree, no matter how hard I work, or what I do to try and fix it, I know I’m still…How do I write that? It’s too awful!”
The memory of crawling out of the freezing cold river that long ago day in the old Austrian Empire haunted him, but it reminded him of how he’d resolved never to give up again. Intent on finishing this exercise he wrote on,
I trust you to do what you think is best for me in your own estimation. And I’ve never seen you to be vengeful or inflexible or judgmental in all our years together. Of course, I will continue to hope that you change your mind.
And in my opinion, seeing me age will be death by a thousand cuts to your resolve not to recreate the One True Cure for sickness, old age and death. Besides, how would you ever live without me, darling?
With all my love,
N
Feeling better now that he’d managed to organize his thoughts and put them to paper, Nikola smiled as he looked over his handy work. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good first step toward coming to terms with his mortal condition, wasn’t it?
Satisfied with the exercise, he picked up the piece of paper scrawled with his elegant script, took it over to the fireplace and dropped it in the fire. The heat and energy flared up wonderfully as he watched the letter meet its own mortal fate, unseen by any eyes but his own.