Just Another New Year's by Raine Wynd
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Author's Notes:
Nick Wolfe, Amanda, and Connor MacLeod belong to Panzer/Davis, and though my website was temporarily sucked down an electronic rabbithole through no fault of its own or of its keeper, they're still taking the tour.
This is for Amand-r and Dana, my other sibs in the Beta Triumvirate, and for the rest of the gang at plerk.
To everyone else out there, may you live large (and therefore, not die small) in the coming year.

Though it was nearly one-thirty in the morning, scattered bursts of fireworks could still be heard. From his position on the couch in the living room of Connor's apartment above his antique store, Nick sighed and clicked off the TV. Connor had gone to sleep shortly after they'd toasted at midnight. Nick suspected Connor had made the toast more for his sake than any real desire to mark the occasion.

He wondered if he'd ever get that blase about a new century. In the past five months, Nick had gotten used to his newfound Immortality, having discovered rather painfully that he preferred living to dying. Though Nick still believed Amanda had been wrong to play God with his life, he'd accepted that he now faced a unique opportunity to live.

Nick shook his head and rose to his feet, picking up the champagne glasses and the barely-touched bottle from the coffee table as he headed for the kitchen. Somehow, the passing of the year felt more ordinary and a lot more boring than he'd expected. With all the media hype, he had envisioned something bigger than what it had turned out to be.

Then again, he reminded himself, a year ago, you spent it partying with Amanda, at her insistence. The year before that, you were on yet another stakeout. The year before that, you closed a murder case. This is probably the quietest New Year's you've spent in too damn long, so what are you complaining about?

He snorted and placed a wine saving cap on the champagne bottle, then quickly washed the glasses and set them in the drainer to the left of the sink.

Admit, Nick. Being in New York is the last place you want to be right now.

He couldn't help it, though. Seeing the Eiffel Tower with its stunning shower of fireworks, live and in person, had been on his agenda before everything changed. He'd started to comment on the news broadcast of it to Connor, only to turn and catch a glimpse of some grim memory in his mentor's eyes. It had taken Nick a minute to realize that the fireworks had looked like a giant Quickening. That thought had silenced him immediately, and Nick had quickly changed the channel, his enthusiasm for the numerous celebrations dimmed. He knew he'd never quite look at fireworks the same way again.

Those aren't the fireworks you were thinking of, a sly voice in his head murmured suggestively.

Nick sighed and shut his mind to the images the voice conjured. A part of him found it difficult to believe that even after seven months, he still dreamed of Amanda. Yet, in the same span of time, Nick was beginning to understand that if he didn't create a sense of normalcy for himself, he would go mad. What could be more normal than falling in love with the one person he ought to trust the least?

Standing here and debating with yourself about it, Nick answered himself. So much for resolving not to think of her this year.

Opening his eyes, he chuckled wryly and moved away from the sink. With any luck, you'll be like Connor in a hundred years, thinking that maybe someone's making way too much fuss over something as simple as a century. Maybe you'll even be lucky enough to see another millennium come and go.

Nick tried to picture being a thousand years old. The number seemed impossible for his head to grasp.

Better just keep it simple, he told himself, and be grateful this has been a quiet New Year so far. For all you know, next year, you could be fighting for your life on some barge somewhere. Nick shuddered at the thought, knowing even as he did so that he was glad he had another year of life to live.