"I'll miss you, Javier Vachon."

She took her time standing up, not wanting to leave right away. The night was cool, and the wind blowing off the lake brought a blush to her cheeks.

From her vantage point near the beach of the island, she looked across the brief expanse of water that separated it from the city. The lights obscured all but the brightest stars, but Tracy knew they were out there -- shining down on her, and the grave of the man she had killed.

"I wish you luck, Vachon. Wherever you may be."

Turning around to go to her small boat, she saw him. A tall figure in black; silent, and watching her with what she knew were the coldest blue eyes she had ever known.

"Detective Vetter."

Tracy reached for her gun before remembering that she had left it in her apartment. A sign of respect for Vachon, for whom it had never been any protection in the first place.

"Mr. LaCroix."

"Just LaCroix is fine."

He walked down the small hill without any of the awkward movements she had needed on the rough ground. Standing next to her, Tracy felt his presence keenly. A tall woman, she wasn't used to looking up into male eyes. Eyes that seems to hold more sadness than she remembered. Pain, and reflection instead of menace.

"A beautiful night." The wind blew against his open coat, but he didn't seem to feel the chill. "I wish to speak with you."

The voice tore at her mind with tiny snags. Pulling her attention towards him in fascination. She knew he was a dangerous man. Vachon had....

She remembered Vachon's smile. The innocent face, and the dark eyes that she could drown in. He had been silent for a long time before assuring her of LaCroix's humanity. Protecting her? Tracy had trusted his answer, and at this moment she couldn't fault what she now knew to be a lie.

"You've been cleared of the murder of the Egyptian. I don't believe we need to talk."

LaCroix turned slightly away from her to gaze upon the city. "We have both lost those we cared for on this dark day." A voice lost in reflection. Of what could have been if different paths had been followed.

Tracy caught herself staring at LaCroix in fascination. He compelled her attention. With just a few words, she found herself with no desire to leave.

"He's dead. I saw him slipping into madness, and there was nothing I could do." Tracy rubbed her hands together. The blood had been washed off, but it would haunt her forever. "Vachon died in my arms."

"Now he is buried so that the sun will never touch his bones and the wind carry his ashes to the sky." LaCroix reached down in a smooth, controlled movement, and chose one rose from the rest. "Cut roses are so beautiful and die so quickly."

He pressed it into her hands, and Tracy took it helplessly. Standing close and looking into his eyes, she knew she was in danger, but she couldn't move. Blue eyes once so cold and dangerous held her in their warm grip.

"For remembrance and love."

"He came into my life and changed it forever."

"The grief is so strong. To give it up would be a mercy."

"I held the stake as it forced its way through his heart. He saved me from himself, and now I will never see him again."

"To know that he is gone through no fault of your own. His presence in the world assured and without doubt."

"I was starting to love him, and now I will never have the chance to see what might have come to be."

Tracy closed her eyes. She felt LaCroix's hand slip through her hair. It reminded her of Vachon. "I don't want to forget him."

Silence in the night. LaCroix's presence was so strong. "Memories turn to regrets."

"To lose him would be a weight upon my soul."

LaCroix stepped away. Tracy could feel it. She opened her eyes to find him a few feet away with his back towards her.

"Keep him." He turned cold before her. A presence no longer connected to her own. "The dead deserve their mourners."

He disappeared, and Tracy was alone once more.

Tracy felt the soft petals of the rose. So tightly coiled, and almost scentless. A solitary figure standing among the dead.

The night was so cold.