Afterglow, part eight (M/B/J, PG-13)

[redwinter101]

Title: Afterglow
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: Nothing really, except that the torture goes on. If you're looking for something to lighten your mood, this might not be a good choice.

***********************************************************************************************************



--- Afterglow, part 8 ---

"You got something on Mark Henderson?" Beth jumped at the soft drawl in her ear.

"Jesus Christ, Pete! Give a girl a heart attack." She tried to shuffle the photos back into their folder, away from prying eyes and questions she didn't want to answer. But it was too late; Pete was already reaching for the grainy still that had caught his attention. Beth beat him to it, prodding at the picture, "This guy?"

Pete nodded, "Yeah. What gives?"

"Who is he? I don't recognise the name."

"I hate it when you answer a question with a question. But I'm sure Henderson would be delighted to hear that he's keeping such a low profile. He's not big on publicity. So rich he doesn't need, or want, to advertise. You know the type?"

Beth smiled. She certainly did. "So what's he got to hide?"

Pete chuckled, "Not everyone in this town likes to broadcast their business. That doesn't necessarily mean he's got something to hide."

"But in my experience, it usually does." She picked up the photo for a closer look. The man Pete identified as Henderson hadn't been her target and she was intrigued, pondering the implications of another rich and powerful player in the mix.

Pete shrugged. And waited; he wasn't going to give her any more until she let him in on the story. "So, what's the scoop?"

Beth chewed her lip, casting a furtive glance around the newsroom. Shoving the photos back into a thick file, collecting jacket and bag, she grabbed Pete by the arm, steering him toward the elevator, "I'll tell you while you buy me lunch."

They made their way to their usual haunt and secreted themselves in the corner booth; they would not be disturbed or overheard. "So tell me about Henderson." She tapped the photo that lay on the table between them.

"What's your angle? Because if you've got something on him, then-" Pete finished with a whistle and a raised eyebrow.

"It was actually this guy," she pointed to the second figure in the photo, stepping out of the shadows, hand outstretched, apparently passing an envelope to Henderson, "Lucas Carlyle, who I was following. I had no idea who Henderson was until you said his name."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"C'mon, Beth, don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you. Why were you following this Carlyle guy?"

She paused. This was the moment of decision; to trust or not; to draw Pete into her confidence, with all the risks that could bring to him, to all of them. He wouldn't be fobbed off with half-truths and she knew it. It was all or nothing. Pete waited, watching, silently munching his burger. He knew there was something personal about this story, something connected to her reticence, her separate-ness. The five months they had worked together had put them in some pretty dicey situations and they had learned to rely on each other. At least that's what he hoped.

She took a brief recce of the shabby diner; there was nothing amiss, no-one who looked out of place. She took a deep breath, a sad smile lingering, "It's kind of a long story."

"I figured as much. But they're always the best kind."

"I don't really know where to start."

"Well why don't you start with Mick?" Beth's gaze snapped up from the photo to meet Pete's eyes. "Because this is all wrapped up with him somehow, isn't it?"

Beth nodded, determined to maintain her control. "How did you know?"

"Give me a little credit, kiddo."

She nodded and with a half-whispered, "Here goes nothing," told him the whole story; Mick, love, marriage; the Legion; Josef; everything. She omitted the critical facts about vampires and vampire-hunters, creating a crime syndicate in their place, but the important things were there. She told him of their forced separation, the threats against their lives if they ever saw each other again and finally, her quest to gather enough evidence to bring them all down. Information-sharing became catharsis; she hadn't realised how much she missed the simple pleasures of talking about Mick. Her words tumbled out in a stream of devotion. She always felt him with her, inside her, but for the first time since leaving LA she could see him, hear him, a bittersweet remembrance.

Apart from a steady supply of coffee refills, Pete remained motionless, listening, digesting. He didn't interrupt to offer comfort or seek clarification; he just waited for her words to run out.

"And that's what led me to be following Carlyle and taking this photograph." She set the picture back down on the table and looked to Pete, waiting for him to respond.

He took both her hands in his, a brief gesture of solidarity, before he returned to business. “You’ve got nothing, Beth. Nothing solid anyway. Unless there’s something else you’re not telling me, it’s all circumstantial. There’s no money trail, no evidence of any crime; the threats against you were made anonymously and can’t be traced back to Henderson or Carlyle. There’s nothing here for a story and certainly nothing that would stand up in court.” He paused, “But then you knew that already, right?”

She nodded. “It’s a work in progress.” She couldn’t tell him about the picture of Carlyle beheading a vampire in Georgetown or the aftermath of a multiple hit in Montrose Park. Nor could she point out that she had no interest in going to court; she needed leverage, she needed knowledge, she needed influence, but more than anything, she needed to contribute. "And at least now, well, you know what I'm up to. It feels good to have someone to talk to. I've been so scared. If they find out..." Her voice trailed off but her meaning was clear.

"Well no-one will hear from me. Look, this has the potential to be a big story. If you can link Henderson to a crime, we're talking Pulitzer. So I'm not going to jeopardise that by spilling my guts to anyone. You can trust me, okay?"

She smiled. "I used to dream of winning a Pulitzer, like it was the most important thing in the world, but now," she turned to gaze out the window, "now all I want is to be able to go home."

"I know. And Beth, I'm gonna help you. Two heads are better than one and all that. If anyone can bring Henderson down, it's us."

"I hope you're right, Pete. I hope you're right."


*****************************


Josef smelt it as soon as Mick stumbled through the door. Fresh kill. As the question formed on his lips, a wave of nausea rocked him. It wasn't the blood; it was silver.

Disorientated, he wasn't fast enough to catch Mick as he crumpled to the floor, a dark groan seeping out through distorted lips, blood and bone where there should be smooth skin. He struggled to rise, rolling, trying to find his feet, leaving spreading pools of scarlet in his wake.

"Paul! Paul!" The unmistakable tone of desperation brought the security guard running as Josef scooped one arm around Mick's waist, hoisting him to a half-sitting position. "Help me. Take his other arm." The burly guard hefted Mick upright; he could have carried Mick alone but Josef was reluctant to step away. They moved crab-like towards the door when Josef stumbled, almost pulling them to the floor; Mick moaned in pain.

"Let me take him, Mr. Kostan. It'll be easier." The gentle giant waited for Josef's nod, swung Mick into his arms and headed for the medical suite, Josef striding ahead shouting orders, summoning help. By the time they arrived, the on-call doctor was hurrying through the door, hair in disarray, white coat rumpled; whatever emergency she expected to have roused her from her bed, it wasn’t a near-dead vampire.

Cara Flynn was used to dealing with swooning women, not a vampire who looked like he’d been put through a grinder. Josef’s fidgeting presence was unsettling; she also wasn’t used to an audience.

“Well, get on with it. Can’t you see this is an emergency?” Josef snapped, gesturing to Mick's supine body. He was laid out on the examination table, a sickly gurgle flowing from his nose and mouth. Snapping on gloves, Cara set about cutting off his clothes, examining briskly, making her assessment. A quick log-roll drew another groan as she checked his back, raising her gaze to meet Josef’s concerned stare.

“I didn’t think I’d see these again.” She had escaped emergency medicine for a reason. "A group of four; professional; look like 9mm. At least three ribs shattered and I’d guess there’s significant internal damage, before we even get to talking about the facial injuries. Without an X-ray it’s impossible to tell.” She eased Mick back, moving to set up an IV.

“What I don’t understand,” she turned to Mick, but her question was for Josef, “is why aren’t you healing?”

“Silver. He’s pumped full of silver and it’s killing him.” Josef was moving closer, jabbing at her, “He can’t heal until you get the damn bullets out so I suggest-“

“If I need your suggestions, I’ll ask for them.” She was already moving, drawing from a small bottle into a syringe, injecting into Mick’s back. Swift and competent, it didn’t take her long to open the wounds sufficiently to expose the bullets, easing them out as gently as she could. The last was deep, embedded in Mick’s liver; Cara muttered under her breath that this should be done in an OR.

“Well that’s hardly an option.” Josef snapped. “The sooner you get them out, the sooner it’ll be over.” There were always disadvantages to being around vampires.

She pressed on but the final bullet was working its way deeper; Mick was losing too much blood; every instinct told her to stop, to pull back, to sedate him, open him up and do things properly. But she had long since learned that normal rules didn’t apply here. Taking a deep breath, she irrigated the wound track once more, beckoned Josef forward, “Hold him steady.” Feeling like a barber-surgeon in an old movie she made a fresh incision, finally seeing the blunted ends of the bullet, flattened where it had careened off bone. With a triumphant, “Gotcha,” the bullet clanked into the metal tray, alongside its three bloodied companions. Packing the wounds as best she could, she rolled Mick onto his back, noting with horror the pain in his eyes, the strain in every tendon.

“It’s okay, Mick, that’s it for now. Just take it easy and let the blood do its work.” He rested back, closing his eyes, grateful for the respite.

“I need to talk to you. Outside.” Josef followed her out into the hallway and along the corridor until she could be sure they were out of Mick’s earshot. “Once all the silver is out, I presume he will start to heal. I hope so anyway as the damage he’s sustained would kill a human instantly. But I don’t know enough about vampire physiology to start working on his face, so you’re going to have to help me, Mr. Kostan.”

“What the hell can I do?”

“His face is badly damaged; from the look of things two bullets penetrated here, and here,“ she motioned to her jaw and cheekbone. “I have no way of telling how much damage has been done but there is one large piece of jaw bone missing, numerous other fractures and he’s lost at least five teeth. I have no idea what will happen once the bullets are out and he starts to heal. Will the bone and teeth,” she paused, groping for words beyond her comprehension, “regrow? Because if he heals in that state, he‘ll be disfigured, unable to talk; you get the picture.”

Josef answered as he steered her back towards the treatment room. “Rest assured, whatever damage has been done it will heal perfectly; you just need to get the silver out. Quickly.”

She hovered at the threshold. Josef, calming, gripped her shoulder. “You’re doing fine; you just need to finish the job. I know it’s tough – but so is he. Okay?” She nodded, turning back to her task.

“Okay, Mick. Home stretch.” She knew her weak smile was unconvincing but it was all she could muster. “I’m going to numb you up as best I can but I’m not going to lie, this is going to hurt.” He closed his eyes in assent and she set to work.

She felt every flinch. Focused and determined, she removed the bullets, dislodging bone and tooth fragments as she went, offering whatever calm she could manage, eye to eye. Finally, it was done and she watched in wonder as nerve and sinew, bone and meat, stretched, grew, renewed. She felt the strain easing out of him, the release of pain and the calm of healing. In a few, paltry moments, the Mick St. John she recognised had returned, weak but whole.

“What happened?” Josef elbowed the doctor out of the way to get to Mick's side.

“Carlyle’s changed his security routine; one of his new bodyguards got the drop on me.” They both knew what that meant; suspicions had been aroused. “I’ve been more than careful. I was sure I’d kept myself under the radar.” Damaged professional pride was the least of their concerns but it still rankled.

“I don’t think it was you who tipped your hand.”

“You think there’s a leak? Who?” Mick sat up, ready for action. His recent pain a stark reminder of the dangers a traitor in their midst could pose.

“Not exactly a leak. Look, get a few hours’ rest. You need it. Then we’ll talk."

"Josef-"

"Hit the freezer, Mick. You're no good to me, or yourself, out on your feet. Besides, I’ve got some calls to make and some facts to check." Josef ignored Mick's continuing protests; he wanted Mick in good shape for what was to come and besides, he needed to speak to a certain blonde.

On reaching his office he closed and locked the door; the soundproofing was sufficient to block out even the most sensitive ears and he could be confident of privacy. As he tapped out the message on his cellphone, he flicked through Beth's notes; she had taken a terrible risk sending them to him; he wondered how many more risks she had taken to get the information in the first place, risks that had put them all in danger. He was used to imposing his will with ease; this would present more of a challenge and there were lives at stake. But he had to make her see sense or they were all doomed.


*****************************


It was three days since Beth had sent Josef the package. An unremarkable manila envelope that held her hopes. She knew that Pete was right about her research; facts were scarce and supposition was rife. She didn't have the skill or resources to track Henderson's financials without alerting the whole newsroom, and her quarry, to what she was doing and that was exposure she couldn't risk. Ryder, on the other hand, could eviscerate Henderson's firewalls and encryptions with ease. If he really was the link between LA and Washington, she knew that he could be significant. Maybe he was the Legion leader in the whole US. Josef would know what to do.

But it wasn't her investigation that was making her uneasy; she had a nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. She paced, sat, stood, tried to eat, channel-surfed. There was only one person who could make her feel that strongly and she shuddered at the thought that her notes had caused some terrible chain reaction. She felt Mick so strongly, like a half-remembered dream that hovered on the edges of her consciousness. Every time she tried to turn toward it, toward him, he evaporated, always just out of reach.

Her 'phone buzzed with a new message:

Go somewhere public and noisy. I'll call you in one hour

Sweat sprang to her palms; she could barely tap out "OK" in response. It had to be Josef - no-one else had quite that tone, even by text - and it had to be an emergency for him to risk getting in touch. Possibilities raced through her mind, a fist of chill dread growing in her belly; something had happened to Mick. Trying to calm herself, she recounted the events of the last few days, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice. "He will have received the information by now. Maybe he's calling to tell me that it's been useful. Maybe it's all going to be okay." Tears flashed and spilled; she hadn't dared to allow herself to plan, to hope for the day when this ordeal would be over and saying the words out loud overwhelmed her.

Taking a deep breath, she planted herself in front of the hallway mirror. "Get yourself together, Beth. Panicking won't help anyone. Whatever it is, you'll find out soon enough. Josef knows what he's doing and he'd never let anything happen to Mick." Clenching her jaw, she stared at the reflection, daring the tears to fall. In many ways, the woman she saw was different, changed by circumstance. She looked older, tired, dark circles beneath her eyes. Even the wash of tears couldn't bring back the sparkle that had died the moment she stepped onto a plane at LAX. But she wouldn't give in to despair. Mick was counting on her and she wouldn't let him down. With a final glance, chin raised in defiance, she shrugged on her jacket and made for the door.

Her mind continued to race as she wandered, oblivious to the pouring rain, uncaring of her appearance, phone gripped tightly in one hand as she constantly checked, determined not to miss the call. As the hour approached, she found a suitable café, busy with Saturday shoppers sheltering from the downpour. The waitress's joke about the weather fell on deaf ears as Beth ordered coffee and waited. The loud ring startled her and she almost dropped the phone, cursing under her breath.

"Josef? Is that you?"

A momentary pause, then the smooth, rich, familiar tone, "Who else were you expecting? And hello to you too."

She gulped a breath, "Hello, Josef. It's wonderful to... to... " she struggled to conjure pleasantries when all she wanted was information. "What's wrong? Is Mick okay?"

"He's fine." She clamped a trembling hand over her mouth, holding in her cry of relief. "Now."

"What do you mean 'now'? What happened?"

"Take a breath, Beth. Everything's okay. Mick was badly hurt but he's recovering. If you'll let me speak for a moment, I'll explain what happened and why I'm calling."

"Sorry, Josef. It's just so hard, not knowing..."

Josef was silent; there was no comfort he could offer. "I got your package; the information on Carlyle and Henderson looks like it's going to be very useful. We'd been struggling to make that particular connection and the closer we get to the top of the organisation, the more leverage we'll have."

"But?"

She felt Josef's smile. "Quite right. There's always a but. But, you have to stop. And you have to stop right now, Beth."

"Why? I thought you said the information was useful. I've still got leads to follow up and-"

"Because, Beth, whatever stones you've turned over, you've alerted someone to what we're up to. Carlyle changed his security when he got back to LA and that's what got Mick so badly injured. Carlyle knew we were coming and he was ready. Mick took six silver bullets and, if I'm honest, he nearly died. I'm not trying to scare you... What am I saying, I am trying to scare you in the hope that, for once, you'll listen to my advice and just stop." He waited for her response. "Beth? Are you still there?" He could hear her strained breathing, a strangled sob. "Beth, I'm sorry to be so brutal, but you have to understand what's at stake. You can't just steamroller through this. We have to be quiet and careful."

"Are you sure he's going to be all right?" she whispered.

"Yes, I'm sure. We got the bullets out and he's resting now. He'll be good as new."

"But everything's going to be more dangerous now, because they know." She couldn't keep the hatred, the righteous fury from her voice.

"I'm afraid so. We'll adjust. We'll be more careful. But you have to stop. Tell me you understand, Beth."

"I understand, Josef."

"And you'll back off?"

"You know I would never intentionally do anything that would hurt Mick, or you."

"I know that, Beth. That's not quite the same as agreeing to back off, though. I need to hear you say it or I'll have to re-think everything we're doing here."

"Okay, Josef. I promise. I'll back off." She could feel Josef's relief; that scared her more than anything. She had never seen him intimidated; she had been foolish enough to imagine him invulnerable. "Did you give Mick my letter?"

"Not yet. But I will once he's back on his feet. I just hope there's nothing in it that's going to cause any trouble. He's held things together pretty well so far. You'd be proud."

She was. Proud and happy and sad and alone. She had longed for news but it was cold comfort; all she wanted was to see him, to hold him, to touch him, to feel him beside her. Talking about him with Josef only served to harden the distance between them.

"And how are you, Josef?"

He was momentarily taken aback, unprepared for her concern. "Oh. I'm... fine. You know. Keeping out of trouble."

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe." She had thought that there would be a thousand questions, an endless stream of chatter between them, but now they were actually speaking, there were no words. It was enough to hear him and feel the connection to her old life, her real life, her hopes and dreams for the future.

Josef struggled to fill the silence, "I've seen you on TV a couple of times; it looks like your job is going well. Quite the success story. Mick saw you too. It helps to know that you're okay." He paused, "I probably shouldn't tell you this because he thinks I don't know, but he writes to you every day. God alone knows what he finds to talk about but every day, a new letter, waiting for you to come home and read them all. He's keeping his promise, Beth. He's not giving up. And you mustn't either."

"Oh, Josef." She could see Mick so clearly, sitting in his office, going through his own ritual of devotion, just as she did every day.

"I know it's hard. You just have to hang on. Look, I have to go. The last thing he needs is to hear your voice and not be able to talk to you. Goodbye, Beth. Remember what you promised and take care of yourself, for all our sakes."

"I will. You too. And, Josef, thank you." The phone beeped once and he was gone, leaving her alone in the crowd once more. She had taken so much comfort from knowing that she was helping; every new link, every tiny piece of information, gave her a thrill of achievement, but now, even that had been taken away from her. Her help had hurt Mick and endangered them all. She needed to regroup, plan her next move. She knew that she would go crazy just waiting; she had to figure out where to go from here.

But that was a thought for another day; for now, she wandered back out into the rain, along sodden streets, avoiding awkwardly-thrust umbrellas, hating the crowds for their carefree normality. As evening drew in, she finally reached the apartment, nodding to the concierge as she steadfastly ignored his attempts at smalltalk. Once inside, she shed her clothes in a trail from door to bed, pulling herself under the covers, pushing the rest of the world away. Reaching under the pillow, she drew out the photograph of her and Mick taken on their last day together and his parting note to her. They were a little creased and crumpled now, but she didn't care; they still had the power to comfort, to conjure his presence, to bring him to her. She gave in to weakness, tears becoming sobs, shuddering through her as she cried out to him, "Oh, Mick, what have I done?"


*****************************


Mick rested his hand on the bedroom door handle. In the months since their parting, he had confined himself to the office, the freezer and brief visits to the kitchen. Now, clutching her letter, he needed to surround himself, to let down the barriers and allow himself to feel her presence. Barefoot and reverent, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The sensations struck him, held him, almost overpowered him. She was here, in lingering perfume and the fresh scent of laundry as he buried his face in her clothes left hanging in the closet, waiting for her return. He heard the echo of her heart beating for him.

His injuries were but a dull memory as he settled himself on the bed, running his fingers over the envelope, his name in her tidy script. He raised it to his nose, closing his eyes, breathing in her smell. Carefully he eased it open, pulling out the single sheet within, pressing his hands to his knees to stem his tremble.


Mick, my love,

Forgive me for breaking the rules. I couldn't send my research to Josef without taking the risk of writing to you. I talked myself into and out of sending this a hundred times, but, in the end, I just had to. If you're reading this, then it was worth it.

I could recount the day-to-day details of where I am, what I'm doing, how work is. Truth is, all of that is just marking time, filling the hours and days until we can be together again. Washington's fine. My job's fine. I'm taking care of myself. You don't need to worry.

I miss you so much. I look at those words written down and they look so small to describe the size of the ache in my heart. I feel you with me, I hold you in my heart and in my thoughts every moment; you are in my dreams and in everything I do. But I long to see you, to hear your voice, to touch your beautiful face, to feel your hands on me, your lips to mine. I feel like the days are passing by in a blur but still the time goes so slow.

I think of Ray and Lila often, how terrible their separation must have been for them, for all of you, not knowing if you would see each other again. This feels like our own private war and I know that we can get through this. Part of me screams out that it shouldn't be this hard, but maybe it has to be this way. I know that I will never waste another single moment with you. We will be together again.

I love you. I need you. I am yours forever.

Beth


He read it again. And again. And again, pausing only to wipe a sleeve across streaming nose and eyes. He could hear her voice so clearly; eventually he set the letter aside, reciting the words under his breath, his own voice becoming hers. Rising, he drew his shirt over his head, slipped off his jeans and crawled between the sheets and blankets that still smelt of their love. Her voice, a whisper in the darkening, "I love you. I need you. I am yours forever."

She was here with him; as long as he kept his eyes closed, he could see her, feel her, touch her. His hands became hers, warm against his skin, part memory, part fantasy. Smoothing across him, seeking out tender spots, eliciting a groan of desire, spilling out into the dark, reaching out to her. His need for her, kept in check for so long poured out unconstrained and Mick lost himself in the sensation; he could feel her hair brushing across his belly, her lips against his neck, her body pulled tight around him.

The taste of her blood filled his mouth as he came, crying out for her, curling in on himself as she receded. Her face faded, her voice dimmed, her touch abandoned him and he was alone.

[mitzie]

Very powerful and intensely heart breaking chapter!! I really hope that Beth will back off(knowing Beth she won't) because it could cause more repercussions in this already dangerous situation!

I'm on the edge of the cliff here hanging on by my fingernails!!!! Can't wait for the next chapter...

mitzie

[redwinter101]

Thanks mitzie

Beth is having to make some tough decisions - for once, she can't just go careering off in search of the truth - there's too much at stake. And that's going to be tough to take.

Red

P.S. If there were an award for creative use of smilies, you'd get my vote.

[mitzie]

Thanks mitzie

Beth is having to make some tough decisions - for once, she can't just go careering off in search of the truth - there's too much at stake. And that's going to be tough to take.

Red

P.S. If there were an award for creative use of smilies, you'd get my vote.

so much Red!

[darkstarrising]

O my Red,

True, the torture continues, but how heart-breakingly real you make it. It's been 5 months now, and the time apart has taken its toll.

Clenching her jaw, she stared at the reflection, daring the tears to fall. In many ways, the woman she saw was different, changed by circumstance. She looked older, tired, dark circles beneath her eyes. Even the wash of tears couldn't bring back the sparkle that had died the moment she stepped onto a plane at LAX.

She thinks she is helping the cause only to find out her efforts have tipped off the legion and Mick has suffered cruelly as a result. Her self-directed anger is not all she feels, yet it brings her no satisfaction.

Proud and happy and sad and alone. She had longed for news but it was cold comfort; all she wanted was to see him, to hold him, to touch him, to feel him beside her. Talking about him with Josef only served to harden the distance between them.

But your masterpiece is the description of a heart-sick and lonely man reverently entering a sacred place to read his love's letter. For now, it's all he has.

Mick rested his hand on the bedroom door handle. In the months since their parting, he had confined himself to the office, the freezer and brief visits to the kitchen. Now, clutching her letter, he needed to surround himself, to let down the barriers and allow himself to feel her presence. Barefoot and reverent, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The sensations struck him, held him, almost overpowered him. She was here, in lingering perfume and the fresh scent of laundry as he buried his face in her clothes left hanging in the closet, waiting for her return. He heard the echo of her heart beating for him.

She was here with him; as long as he kept his eyes closed, he could see her, feel her, touch her. His hands became hers, warm against his skin, part memory, part fantasy. Smoothing across him, seeking out tender spots, eliciting a groan of desire, spilling out into the dark, reaching out to her. His need for her, kept in check for so long poured out unconstrained and Mick lost himself in the sensation; he could feel her hair brushing across his belly, her lips against his neck, her body pulled tight around him.

The taste of her blood filled his mouth as he came, crying out for her, curling in on himself as she receded. Her face faded, her voice dimmed, her touch abandoned him and he was alone.

You create for us a vision of two people never meant to be apart, each incomplete in their forced separation. And lost, and lonely and clinging to anything that will give them hope they will one day be whole again. Absolutely stunning, both literally and figuratively.

[wpgrace]

Arrrgggghhhhhh!! I KNEW when she talked to Pete in the last chapter that she was gonna muck something up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is she actually gonna back off or is she gonna actually get him killed? Cause you keep threatening and she keeps babbling to this Pete and I got a baaaaaaad feeling about it all!!!!!!!!

And poor Mick... he feels the alone more than she does... he just does. I love how you describe that scene tho...

She was here with him; as long as he kept his eyes closed, he could see her, feel her, touch her. His hands became hers, warm against his skin, part memory, part fantasy.

(And check out the little quotey thing! Thank you very much!)

OK... This was totally an action chapter Red... really well done... really different for you and I mean REALLY well done... I was reading on the edge of my seat the entire time!

[redwinter101]

dsr, you're so very kind. I think you're right - Beth has much better coping mechanisms than Mick. No matter how much he concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, he's just crushed by their separation. Poor Mick - clutching at the slightest comfort. Even terrible physical injury is nothing compared to the emotional pain.

Grace, you quoted!!! I can't tell you how chuffed I am. It wasn't quite the erotic dream you were after but I hope it filled the gap a bit. Glad it got you on the edge of your seat too. As for Beth and Pete and what she'll do next, well you'll just have to wait and see.

Red

[lorig]

Thanks Red, now my eyes are all red and puffy . so beautiful. I loved how Josef nicely told her she was somewhat responsible for Mick's injuries. I hope she backs off at least a little. And Mick thinking of Beth while he...*sniffles* I have to excuse myself now. Incredible yet again Red.

[redwinter101]

*hands lorig a hankie*



Thanks for the kind words - Josef needed to get his message across and wasn't afraid of a little brutality to do so.

And yes, poor Mick .

More soon, k?

Red

[Raven]

Nooooooooooo!! Not that face!

Because if he heals in that state, he‘ll be disfigured, unable to talk

Quasimicko!

“Rest assured, whatever damage has been done it will heal perfectly;...

Whew...heart failure averted.
And what a fantastic passage...

Finally, it was done and she watched in wonder as nerve and sinew, bone and meat, stretched, grew, renewed. She felt the strain easing out of him, the release of pain and the calm of healing. In a few, paltry moments, the Mick St. John she recognised had returned...

Oh, this is such a wonderful thing for Josef to say...

"Did you give Mick my letter?"
"Not yet. But I will once he's back on his feet. I just hope there's nothing in it that's going to cause any trouble. He's held things together pretty well so far. You'd be proud."

Ah, Red...Mick's complete surrender to his emotions and his love and his anguish...just tore me to pieces.
He is so strong and seemingly invincible having survived a brutally vicious attempt on his life and through all that...it took the most strength he ever possessed to enter their bedroom...read her letter...reverently...feel her spirit embrace him with love...only to succumb once again to despair...she is unreachable...and there is no end in sight.

The parallels between Mick and Beth continue. Both confident in their task and determination to stop the Legion...both brought to their knees and finally...both curled, solitary figures under the covers...sobbing...alone.

Wonderful, wonderful installment. Really...this one will be with me for quite some time.

[GuardianAngel]

Oh my, Red, that description of Mick's injuries and what the doc had to do was horrendous. Ouch! I wanted to hug Josef and comfort him over his worry of Mick.

Please don't let the leak be Pete. Let Beth have one person there with her that she can trust.

"Did you give Mick my letter?"

"Not yet. But I will once he's back on his feet. I just hope there's nothing in it that's going to cause any trouble. He's held things together pretty well so far. You'd be proud."

She was. Proud and happy and sad and alone.

Heart-wrending. I'm so proud of them too but I ache for them as well.

That ending with Mick in the room, in the bed, wanting to be surrounded by her, her letter and his memorizing it was devestating. I swore as I began this that I wasn't going to cry and you've made a liar out of me. Good thing I didn't give up lying for lent.

Hey, Red? Are you doing some kind of study on how slowly you can kill us all?

[darkstarrising]

Quasimicko!

Raven, that's just too much!

[kpyle]

I have no words to describe how I feel when I read this story! So I will just say, another heartfelt chapter, and I hope they make out on the other side!! Thanks for sharing this amazing story!

[redwinter101]

Raven, how lovely, thank you . Poor Mick - he'd rather go through a thousand beatings than go another day without Beth. And have no fear, I wouldn't seriously let that beautiful face be disfigured permanently.

GA, well I did warn at the beginning - not exactly laugh a minute stuff. Poor Mick. As for Pete, you'll have to wait and see,. And I reckon there's probably only four more chapters to go, so I won't keep the torture up for too much longer.

kpyle, thanks for the comment. It really is appreciated .

Red

[PNWgal]

I was ready this time. Big glass of Riesling and a box of tissues.

Turns out I needed both.

You've got it all here - a fabulous job on the procedural part AND on the heartbreak of being separated. I cringed all through Mick being seriously injured and the doctor pulling out the bullets. I hate the thought of our boy being hurt, but someone wasn't careful and got her boys into trouble instead of helping.

I love this Beth - stubborn and defiant, trying so hard to help and not realizing until she talks to Josef that she's done more harm than good. And how well you're conveying how alone the two of them really are.

she wandered back out into the rain, along sodden streets, avoiding awkwardly-thrust umbrellas, hating the crowds for their carefree normality.

This is so true - how often do we hate people for being so normal when our hearts are breaking? It's like the world should end because ours has.

I got a little misty there, but I lost it in earnest when Mick read Beth's letter.

Barefoot and reverent, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The sensations struck him, held him, almost overpowered him. She was here, in lingering perfume and the fresh scent of laundry as he buried his face in her clothes left hanging in the closet, waiting for her return. He heard the echo of her heart beating for him.

How much did I LOVE this?

Rising, he drew his shirt over his head, slipped off his jeans and crawled between the sheets and blankets that still smelt of their love.

You can almost feel Mick wanting to be close to Beth, enveloping himself in her scent, in what she's left behind.

She was here with him; as long as he kept his eyes closed, he could see her, feel her, touch her. His hands became hers, warm against his skin, part memory, part fantasy. Smoothing across him, seeking out tender spots, eliciting a groan of desire, spilling out into the dark, reaching out to her. His need for her, kept in check for so long poured out unconstrained and Mick lost himself in the sensation; he could feel her hair brushing across his belly, her lips against his neck, her body pulled tight around him.

The taste of her blood filled his mouth as he came, crying out for her, curling in on himself as she receded. Her face faded, her voice dimmed, her touch abandoned him and he was alone.

Oh yeahhhhhh...these last two paragraphs are absolutely gorgeous. If he closes his eyes, wishes hard enough, she's there. And for now, it has to be enough.

So beautiful...