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brightknightie) wrote2022-09-18 06:32 pm
brightknightie) wrote2022-09-18 06:32 pm
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I love different things in FK than many people love in FK these days (a personal essay)
The past few months, I haven’t happened to see any FK discussion, so I thought I might try to share something I’ve been thinking about. Perhaps some of you might like to share your own very different takes on your own journals? It’s risky, though. This is an opinion, and a less than popular one, at that. Um. Please don’t hurt me? Or each other!
I love Forever Knight. Let’s start there! That’s not controversial. FK is my all-time favorite television show. History, mystery, metaphysics. Its first season is by far my favorite of its three seasons. And Nick, its protagonist, whom I see as both an essential everyman struggling toward salvation and a noble hero in the undertow of a dark night of the soul, is my favorite of its characters. FK at its best is brilliant, supple, satisfying storytelling, rich in overlapping genres, metaphors, and lessons. And, at its best, it’s amazingly, unusually, insightfully pro-woman (not just for its time and genre, but especially considering those). All these years later, I never cease to be delighted, comforted, and grateful to all of you who love FK along with me -- all, no matter how we each individually see our FK.
And that’s always been a thing, hasn’t it? FK fandom has disagreed on how to fundamentally interpret the show since at least the second-season premiere, when the series tone shifted like a tectonic plate. It’s not just that some of us prefer the history to the mystery, or the mystery to the horror, or the horror to the metaphysics, or the metaphysics to the romance, or the romance to the adventure. It’s not just that we have different favorite characters, seasons, episodes, and themes. It’s also that some of us feel that Nick is right to save lives, atone for his sins, strive for humanity, and turn his back on vampirism, while others… don’t.
Each month, when I put together a bulletin’s list of new FK stories on the AO3, I find myself torn between my community joy that folks still write new FK and my individual loneliness in the ever-shrinking percentage of stories that seem to celebrate characters besides Lacroix, much less the human characters, human values, or Nick’s quest for humanity. I sometimes feel like the last of my kind, so to speak: the last active old-fashioned Knightie, rooting for fullness of life over physical immortality, rooting for Nick to chose the hard path because it’s the right path, to get up every night and choose to be human in his actions and demeanor as he feels he is, can be, must be, will be, chooses to be human inside his deepest self… no matter who or what tears him down or stands in his way. One foot in front of the other. For life. Forever.
I embrace what I see as the show’s premise that Nick is right and Lacroix wrong. That Nick is the hero and Lacroix the villain. That justice, mercy, and compassion should be our goals, not dominion, hedonism, or egoism.
That there is grace. That there can be redemption.
I imagine that our interpretive positions come back to which of FK’s many metaphors resonate most powerfully with each individual viewer. FK whipped through different constructions of its mythos higgledy-piggledy. A bit of this, a bit of that, as themes suited different episodes. FK frequently raised allusions and comparisons … and then let them vanish from the characters’ world, lingering only with us. I couldn’t possibly touch on all the shifting metaphors without analyzing not only every episode, but possibly every line of dialogue! So let’s consider here just a very, very few metaphors that resonate powerfully with me, personally.
Nick as addict in recovery. From Schanke’s (and Janette’s) cigarettes in “Dark Knight” and throughout first season, to Rebecca’s alcoholism in “Dying For Fame,” to early intimations of internet dependence in “Games Vampires Play,” to everything in “Feeding the Beast” -- and so many, many, many more -- FK repeatedly trotted out the metaphor of Nick’s vampirism representing an addiction. There’s nothing subtle about this metaphor. It screams out of the bottles in Nick’s loft, the business of the Raven, the parallels of abundant plots. Within this foundational metaphor, Nick is trying to recover, which involves both motifs of self-control and conversion and motifs of separation from and convergence with those involved in the previous way of life. Of course the damage an FK vampire does (murders, mind control, etc.) is, at scale, leaps and bounds beyond the damage a ordinary real-world addict does! But that’s how the fantasy functions through this metaphor. After centuries of accommodation, trying to have it both ways (killing “only the guilty”), Nick finally hit the proverbial rock bottom when he murdered Sylvaine, and there he truly found himself again and became the Nick of the present-day story. The character I love.
(I feel that it should go without saying that this metaphor presumes that striving to conquer a destructive addition (Nick) is good, and abetting it (Lacroix) is evil.)
Some folks like to point out that this metaphor seems invalid, as Nick, they believe, cannot live without blood (Natalie disagrees, which may be scientifically invalid, as some argue, but boosts the metaphor). At best, opponents often assert, this metaphor could be permitted not as of addiction, but as of an eating disorder. (Curiously, we never got an episode with the eating disorder metaphor. We surely could have.)
I would counter that a metaphor need not be an allegory. I think we don’t need a one-to-one equivalence to consider addiction via FK’s vampire fantasy. It’s right there in our faces; it’s only a question of whether that storytelling choice speaks to the audience. It speaks to me. Nick has made a hard choice to give up something that was causing great harm, and he must re-make that choice over and over as temptations recur. I want to cheer him on.
Also, Nick’s choice valorizes normal life. I love how this fantasy character’s outside-looking-in at us, boring old real us, in our normal, little lives, can remind us to value ourselves and each other.
Nick as Everyman en route toward salvation. Another common approach throughout the series, though less explicit than the addiction metaphor, is to position Nick as representative of any and every human life moving through this proverbial vale of tears and valley of the shadow of death. That is, in this metaphor, FK vampirism stands for the real-life human condition, and FK humanity stands for salvation. (“We are the guilty. They are the innocent.” -- Nick, “Love You To Death.”)
Like most souls, in this construction, Nick longs for the ultimate grace that is at only the end of the journey, muddling along in the meantime on this mortal coil, constantly tempted to sin, often falling, repenting, and trying again. This construction is not exclusively available to Christian readings, but the character Nick, with his personal origins in medieval Europe, would see himself in it in at least a culturally Christian, and particularly resonantly Catholic or Orthodox, way. “Near Death” plays with this to some degree, as does some of the monologue in “Last Knight,” as well as “Black Buddha,” and “Blackwing,” in all of which Nick attempts shortcuts to salvation, so to speak, trying to get around living through all the assigned challenges of this plodding life between him and his goal. Above and beyond those by far is “For I Have Sinned,” the most direct call on Nick as a lost soul for whom true faith and love are always waiting -- and I adore that episode despite its issues! -- but don’t overlook the related contribution of “Sons of Belial,” especially the flashback in which a good man sets Nick an example that touches him, perhaps triggering that first era of killing only the guilty -- the dates match -- the middle point of the climb from St Joan to Sylvaine’s murder and Nick’s break with vampirism and for humanity.
A stumbling block with this metaphorical construction tends to arise in the middling uses, neither the most nor the least direct, but where the nature of episodic storytelling seems almost to rebuke Nick’s attempts at achieving humanity. For this metaphor to work as I love it to work, the story needs to reward Nick’s attempts to live as a human -- to reach for the best of humanity, in compassion and justice and mercy -- while rebuking not his attempts at achieving humanity, but rather his misunderstandings about what humanity really (metaphorically) is. And of course he misunderstands, in this construction, as the living soul is burdened and estranged on its way to grace (or to enlightenment).
Again, this metaphor as used in the show presumes that the correct direction of personal development is toward salvation (Nick) not away from it (Lacroix).
Nick as knowing himself. I personally call present-day Nick “Nick,” never “Nicholas,” when speaking from my own perspective or omniscient narrative. The character has chosen to be Nick. He has every right to the name he has chosen, the self he has recognized and grappled with. Granted that it’s very, very, very hard to change your use of the name by which you call someone you’ve known for years, I feel that present-day Lacroix’s relentless insistence on using English-pronunciation “Nicholas” consistently, not only with Nick but with Nick’s human friends and coworkers who have known him only as Nick, is meant consciously and overtly as a slap at Nick’s right to know and define himself… to have thoughts and insights and faith different from Lacroix’s.
Indeed, in this metaphor, Lacroix is of course again the villain, this time embodying the refusal to allow Nick (and therefore any of us) the right to know himself and explain himself. Nick says he wants to be human; Lacroix retorts that Nick doesn’t know what he wants. But Nick does know. Nick has looked into himself, wrestled with himself, and learned who and what he really is, and is trying to live this truth and share it, to the degree he safely can. It is Lacroix and some other vampires who deny Nick’s right and insight here, who insist he can only and ever be what they are, what they say, that there is nothing else, no knowledge or insight they lack -- no one can be allowed to turn his back on them and their absolutism. Lacroix says Nick is wrong, broken, damaged by his clinging to his humanity. Nick strives to say, no, you don’t know me; I am not what you say; I am not broken, not mis-made; I am real, and this is me.
Think about the book burning in “1966,” where Lacroix is like all other book burners who will ban and destroy knowledge lest someone dare to learn something that threatens their narrow view. Think about “If Looks Could Kill,” where Nick pushes back with sadness on Sofia’s interpretation of the relative values and life and immortality. Think about “Love You To Death” when it is Lacroix who wantonly pushes Nick to the brink where Nick must choose -- and Nick sees at last, at long last, and chooses his humanity.
Nick has been longing for humanity since the night he first became a vampire. Think of all the 1228 flashbacks set after those of “Dance by the Light of the Moon:” Nick promptly asks to go back to being human; Lacroix tells him that’s impossible. Nick’s entire existence since has been that struggle, in this metaphor. It doesn’t matter how glorious a vampire Nick has been, as Lacroix sees it; Nick’s vampirism never went all the way down, in this metaphor.
Self-knowledge. Conversion. Identity. And moments of grace. In this construction, it is good to know and choose and hold your truth (Nick) in the face of the evil (Lacroix) that denies it.
Nick as self-hating minority. Many people love to interpret FK vampirism as representing certain sexualities, and Nick thereby as someone who has not accepted his own orientation. This is in many ways the equal and opposite of the previously mentioned metaphor. This construction is of course most overt, even explicit, in “Fever.” In this reading, at its extreme, Lacroix is wise and prudent, and Nick should bow to Lacroix’s guidance and accept that being a vampire -- murdering, consuming human blood, stealing people’s will, thriving on fear, denigrating humans as a lesser race, never seeing the sun, isolation from holy symbols -- are good and something to celebrate rather than revile.
I don’t like this. I don’t want this.
Of course the metaphor of vampirism for minority sexualities is widespread and venerable! Many, many stories have made glorious use of it for over a century!
But does it really fit Forever Knight, specifically? Does it indeed bring a rich layer to FK’s particular characters and constructions? If it obliges us to see Nick as a fool and Lacroix as a paragon… how does this construction not collapse in on itself from the weight of Lacroix’s evil and the brilliance of Nick’s hopes?
Or my hopes, anyway.
This is one of the reasons I love first-season best, of course. It digs repeatedly into the metaphors that reach me, personally, and creates characters who speak to me so richly that I’m still learning from them, after all these years.
♥
I know that very few of you see FK as I see FK. That’s fine! Might you be interested in writing about your own interpretation of FK on your own journal? I’d love to get to share a few in the next monthly bulletin!
I love Forever Knight. Let’s start there! That’s not controversial. FK is my all-time favorite television show. History, mystery, metaphysics. Its first season is by far my favorite of its three seasons. And Nick, its protagonist, whom I see as both an essential everyman struggling toward salvation and a noble hero in the undertow of a dark night of the soul, is my favorite of its characters. FK at its best is brilliant, supple, satisfying storytelling, rich in overlapping genres, metaphors, and lessons. And, at its best, it’s amazingly, unusually, insightfully pro-woman (not just for its time and genre, but especially considering those). All these years later, I never cease to be delighted, comforted, and grateful to all of you who love FK along with me -- all, no matter how we each individually see our FK.
And that’s always been a thing, hasn’t it? FK fandom has disagreed on how to fundamentally interpret the show since at least the second-season premiere, when the series tone shifted like a tectonic plate. It’s not just that some of us prefer the history to the mystery, or the mystery to the horror, or the horror to the metaphysics, or the metaphysics to the romance, or the romance to the adventure. It’s not just that we have different favorite characters, seasons, episodes, and themes. It’s also that some of us feel that Nick is right to save lives, atone for his sins, strive for humanity, and turn his back on vampirism, while others… don’t.
Each month, when I put together a bulletin’s list of new FK stories on the AO3, I find myself torn between my community joy that folks still write new FK and my individual loneliness in the ever-shrinking percentage of stories that seem to celebrate characters besides Lacroix, much less the human characters, human values, or Nick’s quest for humanity. I sometimes feel like the last of my kind, so to speak: the last active old-fashioned Knightie, rooting for fullness of life over physical immortality, rooting for Nick to chose the hard path because it’s the right path, to get up every night and choose to be human in his actions and demeanor as he feels he is, can be, must be, will be, chooses to be human inside his deepest self… no matter who or what tears him down or stands in his way. One foot in front of the other. For life. Forever.
I embrace what I see as the show’s premise that Nick is right and Lacroix wrong. That Nick is the hero and Lacroix the villain. That justice, mercy, and compassion should be our goals, not dominion, hedonism, or egoism.
That there is grace. That there can be redemption.
I imagine that our interpretive positions come back to which of FK’s many metaphors resonate most powerfully with each individual viewer. FK whipped through different constructions of its mythos higgledy-piggledy. A bit of this, a bit of that, as themes suited different episodes. FK frequently raised allusions and comparisons … and then let them vanish from the characters’ world, lingering only with us. I couldn’t possibly touch on all the shifting metaphors without analyzing not only every episode, but possibly every line of dialogue! So let’s consider here just a very, very few metaphors that resonate powerfully with me, personally.
A few FK metaphors that I embrace:
Nick as addict in recovery. From Schanke’s (and Janette’s) cigarettes in “Dark Knight” and throughout first season, to Rebecca’s alcoholism in “Dying For Fame,” to early intimations of internet dependence in “Games Vampires Play,” to everything in “Feeding the Beast” -- and so many, many, many more -- FK repeatedly trotted out the metaphor of Nick’s vampirism representing an addiction. There’s nothing subtle about this metaphor. It screams out of the bottles in Nick’s loft, the business of the Raven, the parallels of abundant plots. Within this foundational metaphor, Nick is trying to recover, which involves both motifs of self-control and conversion and motifs of separation from and convergence with those involved in the previous way of life. Of course the damage an FK vampire does (murders, mind control, etc.) is, at scale, leaps and bounds beyond the damage a ordinary real-world addict does! But that’s how the fantasy functions through this metaphor. After centuries of accommodation, trying to have it both ways (killing “only the guilty”), Nick finally hit the proverbial rock bottom when he murdered Sylvaine, and there he truly found himself again and became the Nick of the present-day story. The character I love.
(I feel that it should go without saying that this metaphor presumes that striving to conquer a destructive addition (Nick) is good, and abetting it (Lacroix) is evil.)
Some folks like to point out that this metaphor seems invalid, as Nick, they believe, cannot live without blood (Natalie disagrees, which may be scientifically invalid, as some argue, but boosts the metaphor). At best, opponents often assert, this metaphor could be permitted not as of addiction, but as of an eating disorder. (Curiously, we never got an episode with the eating disorder metaphor. We surely could have.)
I would counter that a metaphor need not be an allegory. I think we don’t need a one-to-one equivalence to consider addiction via FK’s vampire fantasy. It’s right there in our faces; it’s only a question of whether that storytelling choice speaks to the audience. It speaks to me. Nick has made a hard choice to give up something that was causing great harm, and he must re-make that choice over and over as temptations recur. I want to cheer him on.
Also, Nick’s choice valorizes normal life. I love how this fantasy character’s outside-looking-in at us, boring old real us, in our normal, little lives, can remind us to value ourselves and each other.
Nick as Everyman en route toward salvation. Another common approach throughout the series, though less explicit than the addiction metaphor, is to position Nick as representative of any and every human life moving through this proverbial vale of tears and valley of the shadow of death. That is, in this metaphor, FK vampirism stands for the real-life human condition, and FK humanity stands for salvation. (“We are the guilty. They are the innocent.” -- Nick, “Love You To Death.”)
Like most souls, in this construction, Nick longs for the ultimate grace that is at only the end of the journey, muddling along in the meantime on this mortal coil, constantly tempted to sin, often falling, repenting, and trying again. This construction is not exclusively available to Christian readings, but the character Nick, with his personal origins in medieval Europe, would see himself in it in at least a culturally Christian, and particularly resonantly Catholic or Orthodox, way. “Near Death” plays with this to some degree, as does some of the monologue in “Last Knight,” as well as “Black Buddha,” and “Blackwing,” in all of which Nick attempts shortcuts to salvation, so to speak, trying to get around living through all the assigned challenges of this plodding life between him and his goal. Above and beyond those by far is “For I Have Sinned,” the most direct call on Nick as a lost soul for whom true faith and love are always waiting -- and I adore that episode despite its issues! -- but don’t overlook the related contribution of “Sons of Belial,” especially the flashback in which a good man sets Nick an example that touches him, perhaps triggering that first era of killing only the guilty -- the dates match -- the middle point of the climb from St Joan to Sylvaine’s murder and Nick’s break with vampirism and for humanity.
A stumbling block with this metaphorical construction tends to arise in the middling uses, neither the most nor the least direct, but where the nature of episodic storytelling seems almost to rebuke Nick’s attempts at achieving humanity. For this metaphor to work as I love it to work, the story needs to reward Nick’s attempts to live as a human -- to reach for the best of humanity, in compassion and justice and mercy -- while rebuking not his attempts at achieving humanity, but rather his misunderstandings about what humanity really (metaphorically) is. And of course he misunderstands, in this construction, as the living soul is burdened and estranged on its way to grace (or to enlightenment).
Again, this metaphor as used in the show presumes that the correct direction of personal development is toward salvation (Nick) not away from it (Lacroix).
Nick as knowing himself. I personally call present-day Nick “Nick,” never “Nicholas,” when speaking from my own perspective or omniscient narrative. The character has chosen to be Nick. He has every right to the name he has chosen, the self he has recognized and grappled with. Granted that it’s very, very, very hard to change your use of the name by which you call someone you’ve known for years, I feel that present-day Lacroix’s relentless insistence on using English-pronunciation “Nicholas” consistently, not only with Nick but with Nick’s human friends and coworkers who have known him only as Nick, is meant consciously and overtly as a slap at Nick’s right to know and define himself… to have thoughts and insights and faith different from Lacroix’s.
Indeed, in this metaphor, Lacroix is of course again the villain, this time embodying the refusal to allow Nick (and therefore any of us) the right to know himself and explain himself. Nick says he wants to be human; Lacroix retorts that Nick doesn’t know what he wants. But Nick does know. Nick has looked into himself, wrestled with himself, and learned who and what he really is, and is trying to live this truth and share it, to the degree he safely can. It is Lacroix and some other vampires who deny Nick’s right and insight here, who insist he can only and ever be what they are, what they say, that there is nothing else, no knowledge or insight they lack -- no one can be allowed to turn his back on them and their absolutism. Lacroix says Nick is wrong, broken, damaged by his clinging to his humanity. Nick strives to say, no, you don’t know me; I am not what you say; I am not broken, not mis-made; I am real, and this is me.
Think about the book burning in “1966,” where Lacroix is like all other book burners who will ban and destroy knowledge lest someone dare to learn something that threatens their narrow view. Think about “If Looks Could Kill,” where Nick pushes back with sadness on Sofia’s interpretation of the relative values and life and immortality. Think about “Love You To Death” when it is Lacroix who wantonly pushes Nick to the brink where Nick must choose -- and Nick sees at last, at long last, and chooses his humanity.
Nick has been longing for humanity since the night he first became a vampire. Think of all the 1228 flashbacks set after those of “Dance by the Light of the Moon:” Nick promptly asks to go back to being human; Lacroix tells him that’s impossible. Nick’s entire existence since has been that struggle, in this metaphor. It doesn’t matter how glorious a vampire Nick has been, as Lacroix sees it; Nick’s vampirism never went all the way down, in this metaphor.
Self-knowledge. Conversion. Identity. And moments of grace. In this construction, it is good to know and choose and hold your truth (Nick) in the face of the evil (Lacroix) that denies it.
From those metaphors that I particularly enjoy, let’s turn to one that I personally don’t enjoy at all:
Nick as self-hating minority. Many people love to interpret FK vampirism as representing certain sexualities, and Nick thereby as someone who has not accepted his own orientation. This is in many ways the equal and opposite of the previously mentioned metaphor. This construction is of course most overt, even explicit, in “Fever.” In this reading, at its extreme, Lacroix is wise and prudent, and Nick should bow to Lacroix’s guidance and accept that being a vampire -- murdering, consuming human blood, stealing people’s will, thriving on fear, denigrating humans as a lesser race, never seeing the sun, isolation from holy symbols -- are good and something to celebrate rather than revile.
I don’t like this. I don’t want this.
Of course the metaphor of vampirism for minority sexualities is widespread and venerable! Many, many stories have made glorious use of it for over a century!
But does it really fit Forever Knight, specifically? Does it indeed bring a rich layer to FK’s particular characters and constructions? If it obliges us to see Nick as a fool and Lacroix as a paragon… how does this construction not collapse in on itself from the weight of Lacroix’s evil and the brilliance of Nick’s hopes?
Or my hopes, anyway.
This is one of the reasons I love first-season best, of course. It digs repeatedly into the metaphors that reach me, personally, and creates characters who speak to me so richly that I’m still learning from them, after all these years.
♥
I know that very few of you see FK as I see FK. That’s fine! Might you be interested in writing about your own interpretation of FK on your own journal? I’d love to get to share a few in the next monthly bulletin!
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I think I might pull out my box set and re-watch a few. I had been thinking of doing this with my Honeybunny, so I will push the timetable up. He hasn't seen them, I don't think, so his reactions will be the more interesting.
I wish I had a good FK icon.
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Honeybunny: Looks at the box. "I've never heard of this."
Me: We start tonight.
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I hope that you both have a marvelous time, with him meeting FK for the first time!
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Funny comment: first time they show the vampire sight with red filter (when the museum guard is killed by Lacroix) he thought it was a laser of some sort. I had to explain it. Not sure if it is the dated special effects or what. The autopsy scene comes a bit later with explaining how he died (broken neck, loss of blood), so not necessarily a bad conclusion in the moment.
On the rewatch for me -- I wanted better from Elise. I'm a scientist, I want to live forever to see civilizations rise and fall? *ugh* I'm glad they let Schanke solve the homicides, it meant it was more than just side-kick/bystander.
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I also find the red-filter vampire sight effect increasingly odd; I think you're right about it being dated. Also, they pretty much dropped that effect after first season (much like the "flying guppy" effect when we actually see Nick fly in first-season, but never after).
Yep, agreed! Dr. Alyce Hunter has long been derided as "Hold-me Hunter" by FK fandom (for the 2 times she tells Nick to hold her).
(Her double/predecessor in the Rick Springfield Nick Knight made-for-TV movie comes off much better, even with significantly the same script. That actress seemed more competent, more determined, more aware. They gave her more unspoken "business" -- like, she has a bunch of snacks at her desk and munches as she works late -- to expand her character, and even a mini-flashback of her own to when she was herself on site at the dig for the recovery of the jade cup.)
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I will say, Nick is actually *terrible* at crime scenes.
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All of the characters were great in my opinion. I've always loved Janette, LaCroix was certainly an interesting character and Nigel Bennett's portrayal was perfect, but Nick and his struggle for humanity was the point of the show and its heart of course, and I think those of us who were viewing the show as it aired, or at least most of us, were rooting for Nick to succeed.
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Yes, I don't remember feeling at all lonely in my baseline understanding of Nick and the show until recent years. Today, the balance feels like it has not just shifted, but shattered. Perhaps the wheel will turn again. :-)
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I'm quite the rookie when it comes to the FK fanfic community, but I've noticed that yes, nowadays the pro-Nick people are very far and few in between. I really enjoy reading your stories, which are in contrast to my own.
Although it might seem different in my stories, I love Nick's attitude toward doing the right thing and trying to atone for his sins, although I think it's a lost cause, because he will (might) never become human again. Like you perfectly pointed out, he stands for the regular dude, just trying to live his life on his own terms.
As much as I'd like to see him succeed in his quest, I also like him as a vampire. It's more rewarding for me to write him struggling in a story, or exploring the more covered topics from the series - like him being conflicted by his religious upbringing and his nature.
I agree with you on the name thing. In his mind, he is "Nick" and everyone referring to him as "Nicholas" considers him still to be his past self. (I just imagined Lacroix calling him Nick, it made me giggle ;) )
Janette is in between; she tries to accept his wishes, but still wants him to be his old self, so she switches between "Nick" and "Nicolá".
I also agree with you that many "minor" characters are underrepresented, but I get why authors often avoid them; there is often not much from the series to take inspiration from. One could argue that this gives writers a lot of freedom, but it can also be intimidating.
I'm sad that I really can't write the mishmash of dialects Screed uses, because I think he'd be really interesting to write. Same goes for Urs, but with her I find it very hard to write her in character, for she has such a negative view on life itself. On that note; an idea just plopped up in my head; Urs and Nick becoming friends and helping each other to achieve their goals.
And yes, Lacroix is THE villain; but that makes him so much fun to write. :D
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Of course every viewer should build her own interpretation of the story. You observed that Nick's quest is a "lost cause" because he will "never" achieve success. For my own interpretation, I would note that, by definition, none of us find salvation in this life, and we should struggle toward it as long as we live... which is emphasized in the story's fantasy, as Nick's life is longer and his struggle harder than the real lives for which his metaphorically stands. But, again, that's my old-fashioned approach; it used to be more popular in the days when the show was on the air.
You mentioned possibly writing a Nick&Urs story. I love thoughtful Nick&Urs and Nick/Urs stories! I've tried to write a few; Leela kindly wrote one for me as a gift; and Greer also wrote a story that moved in the vicinity of the theme; but... those are nearly all. It's a very, very rare focus. If you do write one, I will definitely take a look!
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With "lost cause" I meant his quest to become mortal again, not him seeking redemption. He works so hard to atone for his past, and it should not matter if he's vampire or human; it's his actions that count.
He could just accept what he is and use his powers, which he perceives as something bad, to do good (like he often does when hunting down criminals).
It's a problem I always had with Natalie's approach at curing him. She tells him that he should not use his powers, but by using them he can save so many lives... I mean, she wouldn't tell a profiler not to use his skills to catch serial killers, right? ;) He already did that by establishing the De Brabant Foundation, so he knows he can turn something bad into something good.
But maybe it's just my way of thinking. To me, Nick mopes a lot, and instead of saying "Well dammit, life handed me lemons, so I'll make some lemonade", (or "hand over the salt and tequila" ;) ) he just buries his fangs in the fruits over and over again and then makes a face, because they are sour.
I think it's really sad, because he has so much potential, but doesn't fully use it.
So, yes, I completely agree with you, that people should always aim to make the world a better place with their actions, as small or big as they may be.
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For myself, I prefer to interpret that the vampire fantasy serves as a metaphor or allegory for real-life struggles and concerns. Most of those real-life struggles are such that I would not want to encourage someone to compromise with them if she has another choice. For example, a person could think that an abusive relationship nevertheless includes some good things, and that could be true, but it's better to leave those things behind and escape the abuse than to stay in an abusive relationship for the sake of the good things. Similarly, a person could think that an addiction brought relief of pain, and that could be true, but it's better to seek to conquer the addiction and find new, better ways to deal with and perhaps even heal the underlying pain. That's how I conceptualize Nick's quest.
And of course that's why I often feel lonely in the fandom these days. I perceive that the character of Nick resisting vampirism is courageous and noble. I prefer the first season of the show, when the themes and metaphors were in strong order. I have no interest in stories that glorify vampirism.
I don't expect anyone to adopt my perspective! But I am and will stay an old-fashioned Knightie. :-)
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I hope you'll motivate other old-fashioned Knighties to share their view and balance out us "taking it literal" folk. :)