--Sunday, November 10, 2:26 AM, Main Room - The Black Squirrel Tavern

Wyatt was sitting at the bar, watching a couple for a minute before he looked away, observing it seems. Nicholas at first did not see him as he stepped into the tavern, intending instead to sit down, and try this alcoholism thing for awhile. Sober just wasn't working.

But his eyes found the man quickly, almost as if drawn, and he could barely hide the expression of betrayal and hurt which filled all of his inner being. He looked this way for days, ever since he told Danyelle of the truth, and ever since the article was published with the pictures.

Initially, after Rev. Dominic had spoken to him, Nicholas felt some hope that his life could be salvaged, that the truth could perhaps 'set him free'. But the shackles that instead were tied around him he found unbearable, squeezing every ounce of will and life from his being.

Danyelle had left him, and taken the children. Of course she had, what /else/ should she do? Her beloved husbend was not only cheating on her, but cheating on her with a man. And he apparently never left her. The desperation and pain which she felt was near indescribable, and the wind from her quick flight away from Nick's presence was almost like a hurricane.

Reverend Dominic was not right. She didn't understand, but who could expect her to?

Nicholas' mind pulled out of its reverie, as Wyatt waved at him. He *waved* at him for god's sake, Nick was half way offended, half way hurt. The man basically was the catalyst which absolutely destroyed this young promising man's life, and he had the gall to *wave*. Nick of course did not return the gesture, instead looking immediately away, the hurt showing through the other emotions. He sat down, and no sooner did he do so, then did Wyatt approach. The man simply did not take the hint, apparently.

Wyatt dropped an envelope down on the table, and Nick for a moment stared, but finally he opened and looked inside. The rather graphic pictures of Jeremy taking Nicholas in the most intimate of ways were within, from a hidden camera in Jeremy's room, it seems.

Wyatt says "This .. this .. is the last batch. The ones I am not going to print." In response, Nicholas' expression gets only harder, and puts the photos away, blushing ever so slightly. His tone is thick with betrayal as he says, "She left me, you know." In a barely audible tone. "With Michael, and Elizabeth." He doesn't appear to think the pictures are of any real consequence. Why would they be? Everyone he loved was gone. He was alone, suffocating, barely able to deny the urge to simply sleep....

Wyatt replied simply with, "Now you know how she feels.". Yet, Nicholas didn't seem to notice, or perhaps blocked the words. "As did he." says the broken man, swollowing hard as a single crystalline tear slips down the side of one of his eyes, before he quickly wipes it away.

Wyatt looked at Nicholas, taking a moment to assess him, "Those ones are the only copies that I or the Enquirer has."

Perhaps it was just a token gesture of politeness, for there is no feeling behind the words that Nichoals responded with, "Thank you." He still seems not to think them any consequence. No more damage can be done, in his eyes... He has nothing else he could loose.

Wyatt spoke something about lawyers and hating them, and Nicholas didn't even remember what he replied, something automatic, or spoken with a part of his brain which wasn't closing in...for most of it truely was...closing intot he pain, yearning for silence, for release, for sleep from this world of anguish.

The entire tavern slowly faded to existance as far as most of Nicholas' conscious mind was concerned, for he rose up and walked slowly out the door, taking care to use slow, measured steps, so that he did not totally break down right here and now and embrace the sleep which he desired. How he got home was unknown to him, but likely it was in his car. How he didn't get in a wreck if that was true, was absolutely a miracle. The world around him swirled, disoriented, full of the images of those whom he loved, that he no longer held. His mother, his children,..Jeremy, and even his wife..Yes,.. he loved her.. he realized this now, but not in the way that it mattered, not in the way that she deserved.

The coldness was a sensation upon his skin which he somehow welcomed, in this unknown room of dispair and darkness, and the painfulness which it brought to his soft flesh was but a welcomed gift. Ahh, the coldness withdrew as a warmth spread out over his wrist, and the beauty of that warmth pulled his attention, his eyes, keeping his mind from all the other evils which lurked around him. The deep, dark redness which pulsed slowly forth, the small river that came forth intrigued these lost centers of his brain, and then the gloried sensations of tiredness set in. A warmth spread throughout his body as he layed back, giving a deep, final sigh to the pain which surrounded his life, threatening to suffocate. It would not get him.. no.. he would not let it.. Instead, he would sleep...

And so he closed his eyes, and relaxed as the sleep did enshroud him, and take him into its dark embrace.