Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Moonlight, or any of the characters, nor am I making any money from this. I am only playing in someone else's sandbox. No infringement intended.
Warnings: None, really.
Summary: Without Beth to interrupt them, the scene in Mick's shower takes a different turn. Fleur De Lis AU.
A/N: I'm so excited to be posting this.
I started writing this fic maybe three or four years ago, and I've worked on it on and off since then. As the summary states, it centers around the events in Fleur De Lis. I think the scene in the shower is my favorite scene in the series, which is funny, because it's not normally the type of scene I would enjoy. But, even if it takes place in a shower, there's something almost innocent about it. For just a few moments, it's like their past doesn't matter - Mick is just happy that Coraline is alive. Needless to say, I've always been a little frustrated that Beth comes and stakes Coraline right after that. If ever there was a moment-killer, it's that. 
I can understand why Beth did it, but still, the shipper in me has always wanted to know - what would have happened if Beth had never showed up at the penthouse that night? What exactly was Coraline's end-game? And that's what I wanted to explore with this fic. I hope you enjoy it! 
As always, I thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for His goodness and mercy. His blessings never cease to amaze me.
~*~*~*~*~
Reparation
It was the feeling of Mick’s eyes on her that made Coraline freeze.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled with awareness, and she bit her lip in anticipation. When she turned around to face him, his features were obscured by the steam clinging to the glass of the shower stall, but his eyes were absolutely clear. The intensity of his stare made her shiver.
“Do you want something, Mick?” she asked, her voice deceptively mild.
The door opened and he was there in an instant, pulling her towards him, his lips crashing against hers. Coraline kissed him back just as eagerly.
He knew. He finally knew who she was.
She was disappointed but not surprised when he broke away to look at her back, his chin pressed to her shoulder as he searched for her tattoo. The make-up she’d used was high quality, meant to last, but the long day had worn away some of it, and the shower had done the rest.
When Mick stilled, she knew he’d seen it.
“Coraline,” he breathed, his voice muffled against her skin.
He just stood there for a long moment, clinging to her, and Coraline held him in return, one hand cradling his head, the other resting at the hollow of his neck and shoulder. But quiet moments had always been fleeting for them, and soon she was pulling Mick back towards her for another kiss, tracing her fingers along the line of his jaw.
“Coraline,” Mick repeated, when they finally broke apart. “Coraline.”
It felt so good to hear him say her name again, and she smiled as he pressed his forehead to hers, an old, familiar gesture she’d always loved.
She gave him a teasing, fleeting kiss. “Are you really surprised?”
She knew that Mick’s instincts had told him who she was from the moment they’d seen each other again at the hotel fire - he just hadn’t trusted them enough. Even with all the hints she’d dropped…
“How many clues did I have to give you?” she asked aloud, her mouth curving mischievously. “The Proust book. Our old song.” She grinned and gave him another kiss, gently catching his bottom lip. “Even ordered my favorite glass of wine.”
Mick huffed very softly at that, almost a laugh, and pressed his forehead to hers again, but it was his eyes that held her attention - they were intense and passionate, and maybe a little dazed, but she saw longing there too, longing not just for her, but what she could give him: his humanity.
“How did you do this?” he asked, his voice breaking even as he smiled in wonder. “Huh? How did you do it?”
His smile…she’d missed his smile. He’d never smiled much after she’d turned him. She didn’t want to see that smile disappear again, not yet.
“Become human?” she asked, as though he could mean anything else. “I thought it would get your attention. You seem to like the human girls.”
Mick gave another, quiet huff at that, and her eyes darted back to his lips. She moved to kiss him once more, but he stopped her, reaching up to cup her face.
“Tell me…tell me,” his pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.
Coraline hesitated.
She’d played her hand long enough and it was time to lay all her cards on the table. But it had been so long since Mick had looked at her the way he was looking at her now, so very, very long…
She ran her fingers over his face, hoping to appease him, and his thumb brushed over her lips in answer. She held his hand there for a moment, reveling in his touch, then pushed up on her toes to kiss him more fully. Mick halfheartedly tried to break away to press for answers, but his resolve was crumbling, she could feel it.
Coraline smiled inwardly as the tension finally drained from Mick’s shoulders in silent surrender. His arms wrapped around her, drawing her closer to him, and she let her fingers tangle in his hair, the fabric of his soaked shirt rough against the bare skin of her arm.
They stumbled a little, hitting the back wall of the shower.
Neither of them paid any attention.
It was getting hard to breathe already, her human lungs demanding oxygen, but she didn’t want to stop kissing him.
A soft cry of protest was ripped from her throat when Mick was the one to pull away suddenly, stumbling again as he put some distance between them, drawing large gulps of air he didn’t need.
The shower seemed somehow colder without him next to her. “Mick?”
“Coraline,” he said hoarsely. “This is… We can’t-”
“Why not?” she asked softly, interrupting him. “Why can’t we? I promise I’ll explain everything later, but…can’t we just forget all that? Just for a little while?”
Mick looked over at her again and licked his lips, then glanced away, swallowing hard. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for her, but then his fingers curled into a fist and he shook his head.
“No,” he repeated quietly. Then, more firmly, ”No, we can’t.”
A moment later, he was gone.
The shower was empty, the door swinging closed noisily.
Disappointment - pain - lanced through Coraline’s chest, and she ran to the shower door, calling after him. “Mick! Mick, wait!”
But he didn’t answer.
The sting of tears in her eyes almost caught her off-guard - the human heart, she’d found, was like the human body: it was softer, more vulnerable, prone to injury.
Coraline blinked the tears away and drew a shuddering breath.
The shower was still running. She bent down to turn it off, then stepped outside and reached for a towel, running it over her body quickly, not bothering to be thorough. She eyed her clothes laying on the floor, now scattered between the small pools of water Mick had left behind when he’d run out. She hesitated for a moment, then plucked a robe off of a nearby hook and put it on. Mick’s scent surrounded her immediately, though to her human senses, it lacked the added potency of decay.
She left her wet hair hanging around her shoulders, tucking a few errant strands behind her ears before she walked past her shirt and jeans and back out into the hallway, the tile cold against her bare feet.
She paused, listening, straining to hear something, anything, that would tell her where Mick was, but his penthouse was quiet.
She moved to the stairs and peered over the railing. His living room was empty too.
Not for the first time, she missed the enhanced senses she had as a vampire. She would have been able to track Mick easily then - she knew his scent as well as she knew her own.
Certain that Mick wouldn’t have left the penthouse completely, she turned around and wandered back through the upstairs, pausing only when her foot touched something wet - Mick had gone this way. She looked at the floor more carefully, finding drops of water as she went.
Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when the trail led her to his roof. The cool night air made her shiver when she opened the door, and the dampness still clinging to her skin only increased the chill. She ignored that and shut the door behind her.
Mick was standing right on the edge of the roof, his fists curled at his sides, his back to the penthouse, the wind tugging at the damp locks of his hair. He knew she was there - he’d probably heard her approach long before she’d stepped outside.
But he didn’t turn around.
With every moment that passed, she could feel him carefully reconstructing a wall between them. She’d laid that wall’s foundation on their wedding night, all those years ago, and she’d inadvertently added to it over the years.
She stopped a short distance away, folding her arms across her chest.
“Mick?” she asked, hoping to reach him before he could sure up all of his defenses.
“You know,” he said finally, a hard edge in his voice, “it almost worked.”
“What almost worked?”
He snorted softly, bitterly. “You. This. Everything you tried to do. I can’t think straight when I’m around you. I never could.”
They were more alike in that than Mick realized - when she was with Mick, everything else faded to the background. The sensation was dangerous, powerful, and addictive, and so unlike anything else she’d experienced in the long centuries of her life.
She always wanted more - she’d wanted forever. She’d tried to give them that, but her shortsightedness had cost her…it was still costing her.
It was one of the reasons she’d planned so carefully this time, trying to find a way to re-enter his life, to ensure his interest and maybe his forgiveness with the cure.
And, she could admit, she’d wanted him to suffer a little, too. It was why she’d picked the Franklin Hotel and instructed Mottola to stage the murder so specifically. She couldn’t let the past stand without any retaliation on her part. But killing Mick had never been her goal.
No, everything she’d done…it wasn’t about revenge, not completely. She’d forgiven Mick for leaving her to burn - she wouldn’t have come back if she hadn’t - but she’d needed to see Mick’s guilt and shame first-hand. She’d needed to know that he regretted the events of that night as much as she did.
She’d enjoyed the game too, enjoyed interacting with Mick when he thought she was someone else and didn’t have any reason to hate her. It had been so reminiscent of those wonderfully innocent days when they’d first met and he’d been so sincere, so unreserved in his pursuit of her.
“What do you want, Coraline?” Mick demanded. “Payback? Is that it? You want to punish me for what I did?”
“Maybe,” she confessed, because he knew her too well - he’d know she was lying if she tried to claim otherwise. “But there’s more to it than that. I’m here because I can give you what you want - a cure.”
Finally, he turned to look at her, his eyes dark, angry. “And what will this ‘cure’ cost me, huh? What price will I have to pay?”
It was tempting to pretend that she had no idea what he meant…that it would never have occurred to her to use the cure as leverage. But it had. Of course it had. Mick wanted his humanity so desperately, and the cure might just be enough to bend him to her will.
He would hate her for manipulating him that way, though. He would hate her even more than he already did.
“There is no price. The cure is a…” She wanted to call it a gift, but she knew he wouldn’t see it that way - a thief couldn’t make a gift out of what they’d stolen. “The cure is what you’re owed,” she said instead.
He stared at her for a long moment, and Coraline stared back unflinchingly, willing him to see her sincerity. Eventually, Mick looked away, his gaze returning to the L.A. skyline beyond.
“What is the cure? How does it work?”
Coraline drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d kept so much from Mick over the years, so many secrets…this, chief among them. But if she ever hoped to regain Mick’s trust, that would need to change.
“The cure,” she began, “is an organic compound developed by a noble vampire bloodline in the 18th century. My bloodline…our bloodline.”
Mick glanced at her quickly in surprise, his brow furrowed. “Noble,” he repeated. “Like…vampire royalty?”
Coraline smiled faintly. “Yes, actually. They weren’t happy that I turned you without consulting them.”
“You didn’t exactly consult me either.”
Coraline’s smile faded. “No,” she agreed. “I didn’t.”
“So, nobility,” Mick pressed. “Noble how?”
“Nearly all of us are descended directly or indirectly from the French monarchy.”
Mick’s eyebrows rose. “And who is ‘us’?”
“King Louis XVI and various members of his extended family…including myself and my six brothers.”
The silence lasted longer this time. Mick had gone perfectly still, but Coraline could see that his mind was racing.
“King Louis XVI was a vampire?” he questioned at last.
Coraline nodded. “There’s much more to the French Revolution than is written in history books. The people discovered the existence of vampires. They tried to execute us by hanging…but eventually, they realized that burning or decapitating was the only way to do it. Ultimately, the guillotine was the method of choice during the Reign of Terror.”
“So, the Reign of Terror was partially a mass purge of vampires?”
“Exactly. A suspected vampire’s finger was burned. If the finger blistered, he was mortal. But if the finger immediately turned to ash they were staked and sent to the guillotine. The organic compound temporarily masked the characteristics of vampirism and allowed those who took it to pass the test.”
“Temporarily,” Mick repeated.
Coraline nodded again, this time reluctantly. “Yes. The cure is mortal itself. Eventually, its effects fade and vampirism regains its hold over the body. But I’ve been studying it,” she added quickly, “trying to find a way to make it permanent. And we’re close! So close. It will be a cure, Mick. A real cure.”
A dozen emotions flickered over Mick’s face in quick succession - hope, longing, desire…but it was something bitter, something sad that lingered in the end.
“And then what?” he asked.
Coraline frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Say that it works. Say that you actually figure out how to make the cure permanent. What would you want from me then? Because it won’t be a cure for us, Coraline. As much as I want to be human again…my parents are dead. My brother…his wife…everyone I knew from before…they’re either gone or in a nursing home, or they were so young when I knew them that they don’t remember me. The whole world is different. You can’t give me back the life I had. You can’t change the past.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
“Are you? Or are you just sorry that I can’t accept what you did to me?”
“I am sorry, and I’m trying to prove that! My family didn’t give me the cure, Mick. I stole it from them. Do you have any idea what my Sire and my brothers will do to me if they find me?” She swallowed hard and drew a deep breath. “I’m trying to fix this the only way I can. I don’t know what else you want from me. What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
Mick’s eyes narrowed challengingly. “What if I tell you that I want you to stay away from me? Will you do that?”
“Mick, I…” Tears filled Coraline’s eyes before she could stop them, and for the second time that night, she cursed her human frailty. She cursed yet again when a strong breeze blew over the rooftop and she shivered hard, her body refusing to ignore the cold any longer.
Mick saw it and eyed her for a long moment, taking in her loose robe, damp skin, and wet hair, as if he’d just remembered that - for the time being at least - she was, in fact, human. He was obviously intrigued by it, and despite his earlier insistence that the cure wouldn’t change anything for them, the interest in Mick’s expression now was enough to offer Coraline some hope.
When another breeze carried over the roof, Coraline tightened her arms around her middle, her teeth on the brink of chattering, and something in Mick softened fractionally.
He sighed and stepped away from the edge of the roof. “We better get you inside. You’ll freeze out here.”
He strode back to the door and opened it for her so that she could walk through first. Coraline did so, her lips curling faintly even as she shivered again - Mick had always been a gentleman, and it was nice to know that hadn’t changed.
He led her to the couch in the living room, then walked to a nearby linen closet and withdrew a tan-colored blanket. He returned to the couch with it a moment later, handing it to her silently. She took it gratefully and unfolded it, wrapping it around her shoulders before sitting down.
“Do you want some coffee?” he asked. “It might warm you up faster.”
Coraline nodded, though she was honestly surprised that Mick had coffee available at all, since it wasn’t among the few beverages that a vampire could enjoy.
He seemed to know what she was thinking and offered her a small shrug. “I keep it on-hand for clients,” he explained.
“Oh.”
“And for Beth,” Mick added, starting for the kitchen.
For Beth. Of course.
Coraline scowled at his back, but she held her tongue - now wasn’t the time to question Mick about his feelings for the blonde reporter. She wanted this conversation to be about them, not his pet mortal.
She watched as Mick moved around the kitchen, marveling for a moment at how strangely normal it all seemed - how domestic.
When the coffee finished brewing, Mick brought it to her on a tray which he put on the coffee table in front of her. He had poured the coffee into a large, blue mug, and beside it there was a bottle of cream and a small dish of sugar with a spoon. She added generous servings of both to the mug, then took a sip and savored the resulting sweetness. Sweet was a flavor only humans could truly appreciate, and she planned to indulge while she could. But it was the heat of the drink that made her sigh softly in contentment as the coffee warmed her from the inside out.
Mick moved to join her own the couch, then paused, looking down at the wet state of his own clothes.
“I’ll be right back,” he said instead.
Coraline made a noise of understanding, taking another sip from her mug.
He returned a few minutes later, dressed in a dry pair of jeans and a gray, long-sleeve shirt. His hair was still damp, but given its suddenly mussed look, she guessed that he’d run a towel through it at least. He sat down beside her, perched on the edge of the cushions, his elbows resting on his knees, making no secret of the fact that he was watching her.
She wondered what he saw. Wrapped tightly in a blanket with her hair still wet and a cup of coffee clutched in her hands, she probably looked more like a refugee than the vampire he’d known. Any other time, the idea would have bothered her - the long years of her life had taught her just how dangerous it was to appear weak. But this was Mick and she trusted him, even now.
“So,” Mick prodded at last, “you stole the cure.”
Coraline set the now-empty mug down on the coffee table, then leaned back against the couch and nodded.
“What will happen?" he pressed. "If you’re caught…what will they do to you?”
Coraline had to fight back a small smile. Mick’s voice had been carefully neutral, but she knew him, and he wouldn’t have asked at all if he didn’t care about the answer. She sobered quickly.
“They’ll kill me, most likely. Eventually, at least. They’ll make sure it’s slow. They’ll want me to be an example…a warning to others.”
“Your family would do that to you?”
Coraline’s lips curled again, this time bitterly. “My family was never like yours, Mick, not even when we were human. And my Sire…he’s very old. The oldest vampire I’ve ever met. He remembers France when it was Gaul.”
Mick blinked. “Gaul, as in part of ancient Rome?”
“Yes.” She snorted softly. “He called himself a cousin of King Louis XVI. He could have been, I suppose - a very distant cousin. He won’t show me any mercy.”
“Why would you risk that?”
Coraline’s eyes found his. “I think you already know why.”
Mick looked away, a muscle ticking along his jaw. He seemed to be having some sort of internal argument before he pushed himself off the couch and stood, spinning to face her.
“Why can’t you just let this go?” he demanded suddenly. “Let us go?”
Coraline’s hands tightened on the blanket, and she leaned forward, her expression challenging. “Have you, Mick? Have you let us go? Tell me that you don’t feel anything for me, Mick. Tell me, and I’ll-”
“You’ll what, leave? Never come back?”
He sounded incredulous. She couldn’t blame him, because she couldn’t bring herself to promise that.
“You kissed me,” she pointed out. “You were happy when you knew it was me-”
“Of course I was! I thought I’d killed you! I never wanted to be your murderer.”
“Like I was yours,” she said bluntly, saying what he wouldn’t.
His eyebrows rose faintly, as though he hadn’t expected her to admit it, but then the expression faded into something more serious, something darker, and he looked away again, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I loved you, Coraline,” he said lowly. “I loved you, and you took my life from me.”
“I’m trying to give it back, Mick. I just need a little more time.”
Mick shook his head, but he didn’t answer.
Deciding to take a chance, Coraline stood up, letting the blanket pool behind her on the couch. She was a great deal warmer than she had been, though she was still chilled, even with the robe she wore, but that didn’t matter, not now. She moved closer, reaching out to touch Mick’s shoulder, running her hand over his bicep, feeling the tension in the corded muscle. She moved her hand up to his face next, gently turning his head. He let her, though he seemed wary of her intentions.
She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze sweeping over the line of his brow, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the cleft in his chin. She’d seen it all before so many times…his face was burned into her memory as few things were. But this was the first time she’d looked at him this way, with human eyes, and it was somehow different. There was a pleasant flutter in her stomach, and her heartbeat thrummed in her chest, her breath just a little quicker.
A wistful smiled tugged at her lips. “I’d forgotten what it was like, you know,” she offered quietly. “Being human, I mean. It had been so long. I think…I think I understand, now, why you miss it.”
Mick blinked at that, his brow furrowed in a mix of disbelief and surprise, and inevitably, her gaze was drawn back to his mouth. Unconsciously, she licked her own lips, wanting so badly to close the distance between them, but she didn’t, not yet.
She looked at his eyes instead, running her hand along his jaw and watching as his expression shifted, as something sparked in the depths of his gaze, something like desire.
“Mick,” she said softly, finally pressing up on her toes and leaning forward.
For an instant, she thought that Mick was going to lean down to meet her, but then he was suddenly pulling back, moving out of her reach. Her fingers grasped at nothing for a moment, and then she lowered her hand, trying not to let her disappointment to show.
Mick was already shaking his head. “Coraline, I told you - we can’t. There’s just…too much.”
Something twisted in the vicinity of Coraline’s chest. “Can’t we try?”
“We already tried!” he snapped, his voice echoing in the room. “For thirty years, we tried! And look where that got us!”
“But it’s different this time, Mick! We have the cure!”
Mick huffed out a breath and raked a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. He almost had his back to her now, and she crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged more deeply into her robe, feeling strangely vulnerable.
A long silence followed, and Coraline let it continue, desperately trying to figure out where she was supposed to go from here. If only he had let her kiss him again, then she could have shown him just how good they were together…how right.
Was that why he kept stopping her - because he was afraid that he would like it a little too much?
She hoped so. Because if that was the case, then there was still a chance.
“You and I…it wasn’t all bad, was it?” she asked finally. “You wouldn’t have kept coming back to me if it was.”
Mick huffed a bitter laugh. “Maybe I’m just a masochist.”
The words weren’t entirely unexpected - Mick had always had a particular talent for that, for tossing out barbs that stung. It was a talent that had started more than a few of their fights in the past. (Not that she wasn’t equally to blame - sometimes she had goaded him intentionally.)
She’d wanted more than that now, though, more than barely-veiled insults and cutting retorts, and she was the one to look away this time, her jaw clenching as she fought back the sudden tightness in her throat.
She heard Mick sigh a moment later.
“No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t all bad. But I can never forget what you did. Things can’t ever be the way they were when we first met.”
“I know that,” she insisted. “But, does that mean there can’t be anything at all?”
“Coraline…”
He sounded exasperated, but he had given her an opening, and she wasn’t going to let that slip by.
“Please, Mick. We can start over, take things slow.”
Mick scoffed, shaking his head. “When have we ever taken things slow? It’s always all or nothing with you.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Not this time. Let me prove it.”
She turned and hurried across the room, finding the chair where she’d dropped her purse before she’d gone upstairs to take a shower. She dug through it briefly before she found the small, metal case that contained the precious cure. Carrying it with her was always a terrible risk, but she’d brought it along anyway, hoping for just this moment.
When she turned around again, Mick was watching her intently, his gaze riveted on her palm.
“Is that it?” he asked. “Is that the cure?”
Coraline nodded. “It is. I took it from Lance a year ago.”
“Who’s Lance?”
“My oldest brother. Our Sire put him in charge of guarding it.”
Gently grasping the box, she carefully pried it open and held it out to him.
Mick stared at it for a long moment. “Is this all that’s left?”
“No, there’s more, but not much. It’s hidden.”
He nodded slowly in understanding, then walked across the room to join her, his hand reaching for the box, but he paused, looking at her suddenly, his eyes narrowed.
“The cure is yours, Mick,” she assured. “No tricks. No caveats. I took your life. Let me…let me give back what I can.”
Mick hesitated a moment longer before he carefully took the box from her, examining it more closely. She saw him breathe deeply, and knew he must be studying its scent. Even to a vampire, the red paste didn’t smell like much. It had only a faint, earthy aroma - undoubtedly the scent of the plant it had originally been created from.
“How do I use it?” Mick asked at last. “How does it work?”
“You put it into an open wound and let your body absorb it.”
She cocked her head, trying to decide what his answer would be to the question she was about to ask. She didn’t have much doubt about what he would say, but she asked anyway, because she needed to know…because this was something she had failed to give him before: a choice.
“Do you want to try it?”
Mick looked up sharply, his expression eager, and Coraline smiled.
“I’ll need a sharp knife and some gauze,” she instructed. “And roll up your sleeve.”
Mick handed the small box back to her, then hurried to the kitchen to retrieve a knife and a first aid kit. Her smile grew. Already there was a bounce in his step that she hadn’t seen in years, and she tried not to appear too eager herself.
Mick had only agreed to try the cure. He hadn’t said anything about them.
But it was a start.
He returned with the supplies a moment later and set the first aid kit down on the coffee table, then handed her the knife and immediately started rolling up his sleeve.
“Here?” he asked, his fingers brushing the inside of his forearm.
Coraline nodded. “That’s fine.”
They sat down on the couch together, and Mick held out his arm. She wasted no time gripping his wrist and raising the blade, drawing it across his skin, feeling Mick’s eyes on her all the while. She watched as a small trickle of blood welled, then quickly reached for the cure and scooped a small bit onto the tip of the knife. She spread it over the cut, careful to put it directly into the wound.
She released his arm as soon as that was done, and Mick raised his hand, flexing his fingers and making a fist. His gaze, though, was now trained on the cut she had made.
A long moment passed, and then another.
“It’s not healing.”
The meaning of the words seemed to clash with the awed way that Mick had said them, but Coraline could only smile again.
“That’s how it works. It starts from the wound and then it just spreads throughout your whole body.”
Mick nodded, still staring at the wound, a smile tugging at his lips, the sort of smile that hinted at the boyish grin she remembered from so long ago.
Coraline wasn’t a fool. This happiness was fleeting…probably as fleeting as the cure itself.
But, a few minutes later, when the first inklings of warmth began in Mick’s arm, Coraline reached for Mick’s free hand and twined their fingers.
And little by little, the warmth spread.
Fin
~*~*~*~*~
I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know what you think!
Take care and God bless!
-Laughter
I enjoyed your story very much. 
I think you've hit the nail on the head in showing how this scene might have played out had it been uninterrupted. I love the way you used dialogue from TMC to continue the conversation between Mick and Coraline that was interrupted by Beth's arrival. (Although we'd have lost that delicious line about Beth not stabbing Coraline this time... 
)
Mick never did have simple relationships, did he? 
