He clenched his fists, trying valiantly to quell the low moan that was steadily slipping from his traitorous vocal cords. No. He couldn't let them know. He couldn't let them know just how badly he wanted it.

There they were...on the other side of glass...under those lights. Misted by gold as they sat and danced, as they brooded and laughed, as they flirted and pretended not to flirt.

From the outside, it looked inviting. It looked perfect.

He told himself it was different on the other side of the doors.

He told himself that they were trapped in their cycle of pretense, of forced happiness and secret jealousy, of insipid humanity. That it was all an illusion.

That he wouldn't be truly happy if he walked in, if the little bell jingled and they welcomed him with smiles.

He told himself these things over and over. Until his palms held the red crescent vengeance of his fingernails. Until his throat was raw with unshed words. Until the throbbing in his chest subsided to a dull, hollow, ache. Until the glass against his flattened nose and lips was covered with the haze of his breath and he could no longer see clearly the party being held on the other side.

The other side.

They were always the other side.

Loved. Beautiful. Given second chances and families and humans to love. Given so much that they didn't really appreciate--more than they deserved, really. Given everything but the truth. The precious truth that could hurt them, that could prepare them for the coldness of reality. That could save them from mistakes they'd made in another life.

That truth was his only ally.

An ally he would never let cross this threshold.

But it wasn't inviting. It wasn't perfect.

It didn't laugh. It didn't dance.

But it flirted...oh, it did indeed do that.

He closed his eyes.

He wanted it. He wanted them.

More than anything in this world and the other.

He wanted Tess.

He wanted Michael.

He wanted Isabel.

He wanted Max.

"They...don't...deserve...me," he gasped out, angry voice finally betraying him. Eyes finally betraying him with saline that poured down his cheeks and made the skin raw. "They don't deserve me."

No, he thought to himself, no, Nasedo...they deserve better.

And that was the truth.

December 2000.