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The Worth of Strength (Forever Knight)
Summary: Tracy's uncle has died, and she thinks about him and the choices she made in shutting down the illegal transplant ring. Post-"Fever"
This vignette came up very suddenly this evening after I heard the news of the death of one of my great-aunts. She'd always been a strong woman, and thinking about her led, bizarrely enough, to Tracy's family (no, you do not want to know how I got the connection). I've always, if cautiously, liked Tracy, and I think that she knows how it is to lose someone who was strong. This story takes place after Fever.
The Worth of Strength
by Estirose
Febuary 12, 1996
I knew he wouldn't live.
With that illegal transplant business stopped, he was still on the legitimate list. But it was just too long. And he died.
My family is strong-willed. Dad's a strong man, and he got up to Commissioner. I was strong enough to take a position in Homicide and stick to it, no matter how hard Dad pushes me to take something less dangerous.
In fact, I was the one who helped break the illegal transplant ring. Sure, I went in there without backup, undercover, something that everyone lectures about, but I helped break it up. The shameful thing is, I really wanted him to live at the expense of others.
But I'm strong, and I knew it was wrong. So to protect the city, I gave up my hopes on him. I knew that there was a remote hope that he'd make it, but it wasn't very good.
I hate waiting for death. If you know it's going to happen at a particular time, that's fine. If you don't know that it's going to happen, that's okay, too. I've heard before that it's the waiting that kills you, that saps your energy and leaves you wondering what happened. And that's for those you love. I have no idea what it is to wait for death, to know it's going to happen and you may close your eyes, go to sleep and not be there anymore. Or to die in pain, your last moments on Earth in blissless agony.
But at least he died in his sleep, without needing to fight. I think that's somehow easier than the waiting. Everyone agonized with him; he just slipped away. The energy was ours.
Sometimes I wonder if I would like to avoid dying, to beg Vachon to turn me into a vampire so that I wouldn't have to worry about the dying part. But Vachon has told me that it's not any easier watching those you love die when you live forever. I don't think I could take that, no matter how strong I am. I think that it would slowly eat my strength away.
So I go on. My family goes on. We grieve, we mourn, we remember. It's okay to be weak for a while. We have time for strength later, and strength doesn't mean anything.
This vignette came up very suddenly this evening after I heard the news of the death of one of my great-aunts. She'd always been a strong woman, and thinking about her led, bizarrely enough, to Tracy's family (no, you do not want to know how I got the connection). I've always, if cautiously, liked Tracy, and I think that she knows how it is to lose someone who was strong. This story takes place after Fever.
The Worth of Strength
by Estirose
Febuary 12, 1996
I knew he wouldn't live.
With that illegal transplant business stopped, he was still on the legitimate list. But it was just too long. And he died.
My family is strong-willed. Dad's a strong man, and he got up to Commissioner. I was strong enough to take a position in Homicide and stick to it, no matter how hard Dad pushes me to take something less dangerous.
In fact, I was the one who helped break the illegal transplant ring. Sure, I went in there without backup, undercover, something that everyone lectures about, but I helped break it up. The shameful thing is, I really wanted him to live at the expense of others.
But I'm strong, and I knew it was wrong. So to protect the city, I gave up my hopes on him. I knew that there was a remote hope that he'd make it, but it wasn't very good.
I hate waiting for death. If you know it's going to happen at a particular time, that's fine. If you don't know that it's going to happen, that's okay, too. I've heard before that it's the waiting that kills you, that saps your energy and leaves you wondering what happened. And that's for those you love. I have no idea what it is to wait for death, to know it's going to happen and you may close your eyes, go to sleep and not be there anymore. Or to die in pain, your last moments on Earth in blissless agony.
But at least he died in his sleep, without needing to fight. I think that's somehow easier than the waiting. Everyone agonized with him; he just slipped away. The energy was ours.
Sometimes I wonder if I would like to avoid dying, to beg Vachon to turn me into a vampire so that I wouldn't have to worry about the dying part. But Vachon has told me that it's not any easier watching those you love die when you live forever. I don't think I could take that, no matter how strong I am. I think that it would slowly eat my strength away.
So I go on. My family goes on. We grieve, we mourn, we remember. It's okay to be weak for a while. We have time for strength later, and strength doesn't mean anything.