The TIME WATCHER by Pengi
Summary:

If you asked anyone I know about my most basic information, they will tell you several things. First, that my name is Nickolas Gene Carter. Second, I am a Backstreet Boy.
What they would not tell you is that I claim I’m allergic to red dye number 40 and that I’m afraid of cats. They wouldn’t tell you that my favorite book is a collection of poems from an author nobody's ever heard of. And they wouldn't tell you that I wear a rubber band around my wrist everyday to cope with stress.
But they’d be wrong about a lot of the basics that they would tell you. Things like my birthday being January 28, 1980. Or, that my favorite food is pizza. Or that my favorite color is green.
Even AJ, Brian, Howie and Kevin – the people closest to me in the world – would answer some of these questions incorrectly. Because there are some things that nobody knows about me.
There are some things that I've never told them, or anyone else, things that even if they knew they would never believe or understand.
Some of it even I don't understand. Like how it all started, or where I came from, or even who or what I really am. I mean, technically I can't be human. All I know is that I can see time. Like literally, I see it, and I live apart from it, independent of its effects. I also can't die. At least I don't think so...

Categories: Fanfiction > Backstreet Boys Characters: Group, Nick, Other
Genres: Alternate Universe, Drama, Fantasy, Historical, Romance, Supernatural, Suspense
Warnings: Death, Sexual Content, Violence
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 47 Completed: No Word count: 67171 Read: 62814 Published: 06/16/10 Updated: 04/27/11
Flashback: Failure, 1964 by Pengi
I was curled on the floor of my apartment, my knees hugged to my chest. I felt like my heart was being ripped out of me and I clawed at my skin so hard I was bruising, trying to feel anything beside the pain that seared within me.

Claire's fingertips were soft, running along the exposed part of my neck by my ear. She held a cool, damp cloth to my forehead, and whispered soothingly. Her kindness was more than I deserved.

"I want to die," I sobbed into my knees, "I deserve to die. More than she did. So why must I live?"

"Nick, Nick, shh," Claire's own voice was broken, on the verge of tears herself. She smoothed my hair and laid a kiss on the pulse point under my ear. "It's not your fault," she whispered.

I shook from the bitter tears that fell across my face and dripped onto the floor. Images were still burned into my retinas of the poor little girl. "I didn't save her, I didn't save her," I sobbed.

Claire's cheek felt cool against mine as she rested her face parallel with my face, wrapping her arms and legs around my body, encasing me. "You didn't have time to save her, Nick. There was no time."

"What good am I?" I asked, my voice tearing at my throat. "What the fuck am I good for? I can't even save --" I felt wretched. I couldn't even get the words out of my mouth.

"Nick, baby.. Baby, please," Claire begged me, "Please, you're going to hyperventilate."

"Good."

"Shh," she whispered.

"I wanna die, Claire," I begged, "Please... Please. It should've been me, not her... Not her."

Claire's voice was soft. "You can't save everyone every time."

"But she was just a little girl," I whispered. My body felt numb.

"I know," Claire whispered. "You tried. You really did. There was nothing more you could've done."

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to feel Claire wrapped around me. My heart pounded in my chest, tattooing the image of the little girl into my mind. I would be haunted by her... by her face, her eyes... forever.

"I've never failed someone before," I whispered.
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