Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The plot is the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Characters: Coraline; Lance; plus, Mick and Beth.
Rating: PG-13 for adult themes.
A/N: This story is a mix of canon and AU. In order to create a timeline, I borrowed from my Josef & Emma series. Accordingly, this takes place after the events of The Mortal Cure.
This story is also the third part of the Family Values trilogy, which begins with Family Reunion pt 1, (written as a collaborative effort with Grace for Champagne Challenge #106). Family Reunion pt 2 is currently a work in progress.
Warning: Dark / disturbing themes.
Dedication: For Grace, who started me down this path when she asked me to write about Lance paying Mick an unexpected visit.
Back to Facing Demons.
Six Months. (Champagne Challenge #107.)
“Coraline?”
I jerked awake at the sound of my name being spoken, and slammed back against the wall of the dungeon. I braced myself against the anticipated impact of fist or blade, but none came.
One of my eyes was still swollen shut, so I knew that little time had passed while I slept.
Time.
I almost laughed at myself for musing on such things.
Time had become a capricious concept to me. The only way I could measure its passage with any certainty was by taking stock of how much I had healed from the most recent onslaught of punishment.
I tentatively opened my good eye, but all I could make out was his immense form looming in the shadows. The stench of dampness, blood, and tears overwhelmed all else, denying me my vampiric ability to identify my visitor by scent. Even so, the fact that he had used neither a scalpel nor a red hot branding iron to wake me, narrowed down the possibilities vastly.
“Coraline?” He repeated, his voice was barely more than a whisper.
“What time-” I rasped, then tried again. “What time is it, Lance?”
“Around midnight. I brought you fresh blood. Can you swallow?”
I shook my head. He moved towards me and stopped in a beam of moonlight. I noted absently that the moon must be full.
So another month had passed.
How many was it now?
I focused on my brother. Only half his face was illuminated; his black eye gleamed. Knowing only too well the cruelty our sire was capable of, he had still brought me here. And yet his tenderness was the only reason that I was still alive – to use the term loosely.
Mick.
Lance.
It seems that my destiny is endlessly entwined with complicated men.
Abruptly, the flash of moonlight on metal commanded my full attention, but I quickly realised that it was a small tray, rather than a weapon, in Lance’s hand.
The tray made a dull ringing sound as he placed it on the stone floor next to me, but a moment later, the reverberation was gone. The room had been designed to suppress noise. Torture chambers were not supposed to echo, after all. Lance knelt down next to me. He reached out and began to loosen the strands of my hair that were stuck to my face; matted and tangled with my blood.
Fresh water. I could smell clean water in addition to the blood.
Lance dipped a small cloth into the warm water and carefully wiped the blood and dirt from my face.
I appreciated his attempts at gentleness, even though I had forgotten how it felt to be without physical pain.
Oddly though, as days had turned into weeks, I had learned to focus on the physical injuries as a way to dull the other pain.
The pain of abandonment.
I touched Lance’s arm for a moment, and asked, “How long?”
“Six months ... you’ve been here for six months.”
“Mick? Is he...?”
“Yes.” Lance turned until his face was hidden entirely by shadow. With my damaged eye, I couldn’t read his expression, but his voice was stilted. “Mick is a vampire – again – and by all reports he has embraced it this time.”
I wanted to scream at my brother; demand to know what he was withholding from me. But my throat was too damaged for histrionics.
“Tell me ... please,” was all I could manage.
“Your husband has become quite involved with his blonde paramour.”
Beth.
“He loves her. Please don’t hurt them.” I closed my fingers around my brother’s wrist and held on as tightly as I could. “Please. I don’t want to die knowing you’re going to kill them.”
“Coraline, you are not going to die,” Lance said quietly. We both knew he was lying. Then he turned and faced me with his usual haughty expression. “Your beloved Mick was stupid enough to take me on – twice, in fact – so if I intended to kill him, he would be dead already.”
My good eye closed of its own accord, as my mind’s eye replayed the night in a detached, professional way – as though I’d photographed the scene. The filthy alleyway. Mick, bloodied and broken, lying on the ground. Helpless. Looking on as Lance drove the stake into my chest.
Mick had risked his newfound and precious mortal life, all to protect me.
“Mick is brave – not stupid!” I said as forcefully as I could manage.
“Perhaps.” Lance rinsed the cloth and silently turned his attention to cleaning my arms and hands. “Your fingernails have regrown ... that's good,” he murmured, almost as though he was alone and thinking aloud. When he was finished, he dropped the cloth with a wet plop onto the tray. “Still, Mick wasn’t brave enough to attempt to rescue his wife, was he?”
I looked up into my brother’s face – but my throat refused to cooperate.
How could Mick have even thought of rescuing me when he was mortal? It would have been suicide to face my sire and Mick must have known that. It’s alright. The only thing that matters is that Mick is safe.
“Glad–” was all I managed to choke out before my voice cracked.
Lance moved swiftly, and cradled me against his chest.
“I know you’re glad Mick hasn’t come here. You keep telling me that.” He lifted a glass to my lips and whispered, “Now ... try to drink.”
I gagged and spat the blood all over his pristine shirt. To my surprise, Lance didn’t say a word. He did, however, lean me back in his arms and dribble blood into my mouth, a few drops at a time. It took forever, but he persisted until the glass was empty.
I felt my body begin the process of healing, but given the amount of damage, it didn’t seem to know where to begin. Although I was acutely aware that my eye remained swollen shut, at least the pain in my abdomen had eased a little, and I felt my thigh bone begin to mend.
Perhaps I would see another sunrise, after all.
“Thank you.” I caught Lance’s gaze and held it. “And Lance ... I’m glad that Mick didn’t risk his life – again – to save me. I love him...”
“I know.” He brushed my hair back off my face. “Try to sleep now. Heal. We both know that he will return soon enough.”
Lance eased me back against the wall, and without another word, picked up the tray and left.
Finally I had the news I needed – that Mick was safe. Not only was Mick safe, but he had realized that being a vampire was a blessing, not a curse. His relationship with Beth was inconsequential; he would come back to me sooner or later.
However, I have to survive the penalty my sire sees fit to exact, first. Still, it’s been six months. He has made an example of me. Eventually he’ll grow bored and let me go.
But in the here and now, my body craved sleep, so I curled up and gave in to the darkness.
Abruptly, I regained consciousness to the smell of burning skin and the sound of a woman screaming in pain – and I realized that the woman was me.
My sire had returned.
Mick! I have to focus on Mick. I have to survive to see Mick again. Nothing else matters...
Despite that belief, my mind went blank as another scream tore from my throat.
**********
I realize that was not a happy read, but it was a part of the Moonlight story that is seldom acknowledged. However, it needed to be. Coraline must have known what she was facing when she gave herself up to Lance. Her story - and the aftermath - deserves to be told. 
(Which is going to be interesting...)
I was really surprised that Mick didn't try to rescue her in the show!! 
It would have been the Mick thing to do!! 
A part of him still loved her. Beautifully written!!!! 
Man! How wonderfully you imply the horror without actually showing it. Thank Bob.
