Season 2, ep 1 'Pas de Deux' (PG13)

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Tam
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Season 2, ep 1 'Pas de Deux' (PG13)

Post by Tam »

Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Ep 1-16 of Moonlight, season 1
Summary : A prima ballerina is receiving death threats and asks Mick St John for help. Ben Talbot is trying to find out the meaning of the list he received in ep. 16.
Comment : Written in short scenes with voice-over texts. I haven't described everyone's thoughts - like in the show, I'm leaving something for you own imagination :)
First posted: ff.net, October 2008. Re-posted in June, 2009.

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, no money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Pas de Deux


A young woman stands ready backstage. She is dressed in a white leotard and ballet shoes. Her hair is tied back. She nervously clenches and unclenches her fists. A voice counts down, and classical music sets in. She takes a deep breath and dances onto the stage, her shoes with the strengthened soles and points patting softly on the wooden floor. Background dancers follow her and form half a circle behind her. She opens her arms and steps en pointe, lifting one leg high up in the air, lengthening the pose with her outstretched arms. Her hands are shaking and her smile looks strained. The lights are blinding her. She blinks, loses focus, and has to lower her leg. Her balance is off, and she falls, landing on flat feet.
"Hold, everyone!"
The lights go out. The ballerina looks up from the floor. She looks distraught. Two background dancers whisper something behind her back. One laughs.
"Do you need five minutes, Isabelle?"
She nods, and hurries off the stage, clasping a hand in front of her mouth. The choreograph, a tall, slim man with short, grey hair, looks over the chorus. "Petra, fill in, please," he says, sounding exasperated. One of the girls steps forward, a small smile on her face. She curtsies. He waves the girls off the stage with a tired hand gesture and counts down. The music sets in again.

Mick's desk. A pile of letters lie scattered over the desktop. They are formed out of coarsely cut-out words from magazines and newspapers. One of them shows a picture of a ballerina. The head is replaced with a crudely drawn skull. Mick picks up a letter. It reads: "IsaBELLE bitch - dance and you wILL die. GO away WE WILL get you". Mick looks up at the woman sitting in the chair opposite of him.
"Have you shown these to the police?" he asks neutrally. The woman shakes her head.
"I know what they'd say," she says quietly. "They won't do anything until it's too late. My friend was stalked once, and only got police protection after her boyfriend was assaulted."
Mick frowns. Though he is happy to get an assignment, this isn't the first time lack of trust in the police is mentioned as a motivation.
"Besides," the woman continued, taking a deep breath, "I need someone discreet. I can't afford bad publicity this shortly before opening night. Mr Gerald has fired girls for less."
"Mr Gerald?" Mick asks.
"Our choreographer. He's a genius. But he's also very demanding. He wants us to be perfect. If he gets wind of these threats- of anything that could harm his performance- I'd be out. I can't dance like this," the woman says, gesturing at the letters, "I am afraid someone will jump up on the stage and attack me. I need to feel safe. Can you do that, Mr St John? Can you make me feel safe?"
Mick looks at the woman. He can smell her fear, and instinctively wants to reassure her.
"I will find this person, Ms Rode. I will not let anyone harm you."
Isabelle Rode smiles gratefully.
"Now, do you have any idea who might be behind these letters? A slighted friend? A jealous ex-lover?"
She shakes her head. "I hardly know anyone in the city. My work doesn't leave much time to socialise."
Mick nods. "I will see what I can find out."

Ben Talbot's office. Ben walks over to his desk with a newspaper and a mug of coffee in his hands. He looks tired. He takes a sip of coffee and sits down, putting his newspaper on a stack of files on his desk and trying to find a place to rest his mug. He sees the list with names lying on his keyboard, and remembers. He left them there last night. The names make no sense to him. He knows a few - Josef Kostan, Mick St John. But what did they have in common with Gaius Julius Caesar? He moves his mouse to deactivate his screensaver (nothing fancy, just the standard, because he is not too fond of computers), and opens his browser. Google. He starts typing in random names from the list. He scrolls through the results. Many names seem to belong to historical figures, some are even fictional characters or urban myths. He frowns. Vladimr Tepes. Elizabeth Bathory - both rather bloody and gruesome characters. But where is the connection? He googles for pictures, and finds some pictures of gothic youth posing at a graveyard. "What are these, Halloween party costume suggestions?" he mutters quietly, and takes the list. He opens a drawer and dumps it in, closing the drawer with a resolute push.

"Isabelle? Oh she's very nice. And pretty. Yes. I think she only weighs 75 pounds," says a young girl wearing her hair in a tight bun. A towel is draped around her neck.
"A boyfriend?" asks another girl, holding a bottle of diet coke. "No, I don't think so. Isabelle? She's all dance and no fun. Not like us."
"Why are you so interested in her?" a third girl pipes up. She is wearing a tight leotard and a pink skirt. "Chorus girls are quite capable." The girls all giggle.
Mick voiceover : teenage girls. Although it's over sixty years ago since I was their age, nothing has changed. Talking to them is still like speaking to creatures from another planet. I can't do this on my own. I need an interpreter.

Beth's kitchen. Beth's telephone rings. She walks over to her kitchen table and sees it is Mick. She dries her hands on a towel, and answers the phone, wedging it between her shoulder and chin so her hands are free to take a frying pan off the stove.
"You're up early," she says brightly. She takes a wooden spoon and stirs the contents of her pan.
"I need your help." Mick's voice.
"Oh! Are you deciding what to wear to our date tonight?" Beth replies, smiling to herself. She tries something from the spoon and frowns, putting the spoon down again.
"Tonight? I...I've got a case," Mick says. Beth takes the phone in her hand and stops cooking.
"I see," she says. "who died?"
"No one - yet. I hope I can keep it that way."

Beth meets Mick at the back of the theatre. The door to the backstage area is open. A young man stands outside smoking. A girl joins him and asks for a cigarette.
"Those are bad for you," the man says, but offers her the pack all the same. She takes one and lights up.
"So is food - and these have no calories," she says, but the effect is spoiled by her coughing.
"Don't they understand what that's doing to them?" Beth says quietly to Mick, "killing their appetite like that? Their bodies will be burnt up before they are twenty." Mick nods. They go inside, into a corridor with pictures on the walls. Among them, the choreographer, posing with what must be famous dancers. A pair of ballet shoes hangs on a hook next to an autographed picture of a ballerina.
"I guess you can't weigh much more than 75 pounds to be able to dance on those, though," Mick comments, pointing at the shoes. "But you have to admit it's beautiful. Very feminine."
Beth frowns. "I can be feminine without mutilating my feet," she says darkly.
Mick raises an eyebrow and looks down on Beth's shoes; high-heeled, the toes forced into a sharp, stylish point. Beth follows his gaze.
"Right. So, your case?"
"I talk to the men," Mick states.

Mick stands on one of the crew bridges over the stage, looking down. Isabelle Rode is on the dance floor, practising pirouettes. A spotlight follows her. The man guiding the spotlight stands on the bridge, tuning the buttons on the side of the lamp.
"I thought lighting was done automatically in most theatres by now," Mick offers. The man looks up.
"It is," he says, "the basic moods are all coming from the control panel." He points down in the general direction of the booth. "But Mr Gerald always has the stars lightened by hand. It's craftsmanship, you know? I know her dance, step by step." The man looks down, watching Isabelle. "I know her weaknesses. I know where she slows down, speeds up - I could place her in the right spotlight in my sleep."
"You must have seen her practise a lot then," Mick says.
"Every day for the past six months," the man replies, smiling vaguely, his eyes still on Isabelle. "Every day..."

Ben Talbot is on his way out of the office, coat folded over one arm, when his phone rings. He hurries back to his desk.
"Have you found the connection yet?" a voice asks.
"What? Who is this? What do you want from me?" Ben asks, frowning and more than a little annoyed.
"They are among us!" the voice says threateningly.
"Who are?" The phone clicks, and the line is dead. Ben slams the phone back onto the receiver and shakes his head. "Freaks," he says, but he looks at his desk. Walking around, he takes the list from his drawer, puts it in his suitcase, and walks out of the office. He turns off the lights.

"What have you found out?" Mick asks. He and Beth are sitting in a coffee shop across the street from the theatre. Beth takes a bite from a large muffin. Mick stares at it, looking a little forlorn.
"You know," Beth says with her mouth full, "I got so hungry watching those skinny girls with their diet drinks. And I already had curry at home."
"I haven't eaten yet," Mick replies, eyeing the muffin wistfully.
"Anyway," Beth says, after swallowing her bite, "these girls - I really don't think they would want to harm Isabelle. They are all frightfully jealous, yes, but that's normal. After all, Isabelle is the one being lifted by those muscled men in tights..." She smiles at Mick. He looks amused. "Her understudy is terrified that Isabelle won't cope with the stress. She will have to fill in if Isabelle can't dance, and she says she doesn't have half the steps down. That may have been false modesty, though. I can't smell lies like you can. But I think they're harmless."
"Actually, it's not the smell, it's the heartbeat..." Mick starts to explain, but then he looks out of the window and sees a man stepping out of a car and heading to the backstage door. He recognises him from the pictures in the theatre.
"The choreographer. I have to go, I still need to talk to him. Thank you for your help." He gets up and kisses her cheek. "I'm sorry about the date. I'll make it up to you. Tomorrow - opening night," he nods at the theatre, "if I get this case solved tomorrow."
"I have nothing to wear!" Beth protests.
"You still have a whole day to shop," Mick says over his shoulder, and starts to walk out of the shop. Beth looks after him, an amused and satisfied smile on her face.

The choreographer at work. He's making wild arm gestures, directed mostly at Isabelle. He gets up onto the stage, stands next to her, and walks through a few steps, counting. Mick Voice-Over : Mr Gerald is the kind of artist who would dance a thirty-cast piece alone if he could clone himself. His vision counts, and he wants these girls to visualise his dreams. He controls and corrects every single move. I doubt he would use letters to frighten his dancers off, as he seems to have no qualms speaking his mind. It had to be someone else. But what could be the motive?
Isabelle is close to tears from the choreographer's words. She leaves the stage and slumps on a chair. Mick follows her with his eyes. The light technician steps up to her and offers her a glass of water. She takes it, smiling gratefully at him. He smiles back, and retreats into the shadows.

It's dark. Mick is standing outside the theatre. He's almost invisible, but when the door opens, his eyes gleam in the light. The light technician comes out and walks passed Mick without seeing him. Mick Voice-Over: My friend Logan had run a background check on the technician. Kevin turned out to have a police record and has a restraining order for stalking his ex-wife. I decided to follow him home and see if I could secure evidence.

The technician's house. The man goes inside, turns on the lights and heads directly to his computer. He takes a small digital camera from his pocket, and connects it to a USB-cable coming from under the desk. The screen faces the window. Behind the glass, Mick is looking in over the man's shoulder. Pictures are loading and opening on the screen. They show the ballerina. Close-ups from her face and her legs. A picture in mid-jump. More pictures of her face. The man scrolls through the pictures, renaming them and filing them away. Mick Voice-Over : People once believed a photograph could steal a person's soul. In this digital age, we are no longer scared of losing our souls. Privacy is practically non-existent, and everything our idols do is captured and saved. Everyone can become a collector of souls. But where does admiration end, and obsession start?

The next morning at the theatre- two police offers are taking the light technician in for questioning. A cut to his house - another officer is securing the pc. The technician is protesting, but lets himself be lead away to the police car. Several dancers are standing in the door opening, watching and talking behind their hands.


Isabelle's dressing room. Mick knocks on the door and waits. Isabelle opens it, looking relaxed. "Mr St John!" she says, "please come in." She steps aside, letting him in. He looks around. It's brightly lit. A large mirror and a clothes rack fill most of the room. Several vases with flowers stand on a small table in front of the mirror. "Thank you so much," she says, "who would have thought? I didn't really know Kevin, but he was always very nice to me. Why would he threaten me?"
Mick looks at the mirror. "You never know what people are capable of," he says pensively. "Perhaps he was jealous. Perhaps he wanted you to himself. Fame has a strange effect on people. Tabloids can give some the impression that celebrities are public property, that we have the right to interfere in their lives. The police are questioning him now. He won't be able to stop you from dancing for a while."
"Are you coming to opening night?" Isabelle asks. Mick smiles.
"Yes, with my girlfriend."
Isabelle smiles back, with only a fleeting look of disappointment on her face.
"Good for you, I hope you enjoy it," she says warmly.

Beth is standing in front of the theatre. It is dark, and she is wearing a long, night blue gown with a light blue stole. She looks around a little nervously, tapping a small black purse against the palm of her hand. Mick walks up to her, wearing a black suit and a dark grey shirt. He takes in the sight of her and smiles.
"You look beautiful," he says.
"You look sexy," Beth replies, batting her eyes coyly. Mick clears his throat, obviously pleased.
"Shall we go in?" he says, trying to sound nonchalant. Inside, men and women are standing in the foyer, all of them finely dressed. From the corner of his eye, Mick sees a familiar face. Josef Kostan nods in greeting, and walks up to them with a glass of champagne in his hand.
"Beth," he says, taking her hand and lightly brushing his lips over it, "you look spectacular." He lets go of her hand, but lets his eyes linger on her dress a little longer before turning to his friend. Mick instinctively puts a protective arm around Beth's waist.
"Mick. I didn't know you liked ballet?"
"What can I say, Josef," he replies, I am full of surprises."
"Is Simone here?" Beth asks, looking from the glass in Josef's hand to the women in the foyer. Vampires couldn't drink champagne.
"No, she isn't," Josef replies. "We have decided to go our separate ways." He looks down at the glass and shrugs. "I like the colour," he says by way of explanation, "it matches my shirt."
"'We' decided? Or you decided?" Mick asks. Josef gives him a dark look.
Beth looks at the men and says "I'll just go and powder my nose. Excuse me." She leaves discreetly. Not looking at Mick, Josef says "After I saw the Monaghans die...I realised that I have never felt that kind of...commitment. I think I'm too young for it," he adds, looking back at Mick and smirking. "I'm not ready."
"And Simone?" Mick asks.
"She wasn't ready either," Josef replies. "She might have said she was, but dying for someone you've only known a few months? Freshie euphoria. Death changes people, you know. And I don't just mean odour-wise. I might have ended up with a complete psycho like Coraline."
Mick raises an eyebrow, but refrains from commenting.
"Is she...?"
"No, she's alive, thanks," says Josef, with a pointed look. "She accepted a job offer at one of my New York offices. I told her we would stay in touch."
Before Mick can say anything, Beth joins them again. "Shall we go in?" Mick asks instead, choosing not to comment of his friend's love life. At that moment, a theatre employee walks up to them.
"Mr St. John? Ms Isabelle Rode is asking for you. Will you please follow me?" He looks serious, and his eyes stray around through the crowd as if he expects something to happen.
Josef raises his eyebrows in surprise. "I'm impressed," he says drily.
"She's his client," Beth says under her breath.
"Ah," says Josef. "I knew that."

Mick is worried, and follows the man backstage. In the foyer, he can just hear someone announcing that the ballet might be slightly delayed, and drinks are on the house. Before they arrive at the dressing room, he can already hear Isabelle's distressed voice. The door to her room is open. The mirror is shattered. Her costume lies on the floor, covered in what looks like blood. The vases are overturned, the flowers strewn all over the room. Isabelle stands in the middle of the room in a dressing robe, shaking. Her theatre-make up has run. As she sees Mick, she starts to cry.
"I thought you caught him," she says between sobs. "And now this...all this blood..." One of the chorus girls takes her into her arms and pats her back soothingly.
Mick takes a deep breath. "This isn't blood," he states, and kneels down to touch the costume. Rubbing his fingers together, he can smell the sugary red substance. "It's syrup. Theatre blood." His eyes fall on a shard of the mirror. It is also stained. He picks it up, holding it to his face. Mick voice-over : This isn't syrup.
Mick looks at the wall, frowning. Something from inside the next room has distracted him. It is an argument. He concentrates, his vampiric sense picking up the voices.
"Mr Gerald, let me try it. Isabelle is much too distressed. And I can do it. The show doesn't have to be cancelled!"
"No! No, Petra. I will not risk it. Isabelle's life may be in danger."
"I'm sure it isn't. It's probably just a joke. Really, Mr Gerald, she might have done it by herself just to get attention..."

Mick opens the door. "Or you might have," he says, walking up to the girl, "so that you could take her part." He takes her wrist, turning up her palm. Her hand is cut. He holds up the shard of the mirror. She looks at him with wide eyes. The choreographer looks shocked.
"You would kill Isabelle to dance her part?" he asks, half outraged, half awed.
"No! No, I'd never kill her," Petra pleads. "I only wanted to frighten her...I meant no harm, really..." She pulls at her arm, which Mick is still holding. "Please, I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry for your career," the choreographer says grimly, apparently recovered from shock. "You'll not dance in this state again."
Petra starts crying. Mr Gerald straightens his back and overviews the crew, who are standing in the entrance of the room. "Has anyone been to wardrobe for Isabelle's second costume? Come on people, it's opening night!" The crew disperses, setting to their tasks. A police officer arrives, taking Petra with her. She is still crying and covering her face with her hands, trying to shield herself from everyone's looks. Isabelle comes in, her face cleaned of make-up.
"Will you be able to dance?" Mick asks.
She lifts her chin. "I am a professional, Mr St John. The show must go on." She looks serious and haughty, but then drops the pose and smiles.
"Your girlfriend must be waiting for you," she says.
Mick smiles.

The stage. Lights go on, and the orchestra plays the first allegro in 3/4th. Isabelle makes her entrée, dancing lightly and professionally, without a trace of nerves. She is smiling serenely. Mick and Beth are sitting somewhere in the middle of the floor. Beth is looking at the ballet in rapture. Mick is watching Beth. He looks happy, and takes her hand. Without taking her eyes off the dancers, Beth squeezes it. At the rear of the main floor, in a loge, sits Josef. He bends towards the woman sitting next to him, a young brunette with long, curly hair. He whispers something in her ear, keeping half an eye on the ballet, and softly touches her neck on the pretext of pushing her hair out of the way, his mouth close to her face. She laughs. He smiles, his eyes glittering in the half-dark of the theatre.

The next morning, Talbot's office. Ben is still looking at the list. He takes a sheet of blanc paper and copies a few of the names onto it, deliberately leaving Mick and Josef's names off the list. He gets up and walks out of his room. Beth is sitting at a desk nearby, her head resting on her hand. She's scrolling through pictures on her mobile phone, looking absent-minded. Ben clears his throat and she sits up, putting her phone away, blushing a little.

"Can you take a look at this list and tell me if it makes sense to you?" he asks, laying the copied list on the desk before her. She nods and starts to read. It is clear from her expression that at least some of the names ring a bell. She bites her lower lip nervously. Then, she looks up at Ben.
"I'm not sure. I'll need to do some research. Is it urgent?" she asks neutrally.
"Not really, those names came up in a case, and I'm just curious," Ben replies.
"Can I keep it for now?" Beth asks.
"Yes, you can. But er...the case, it's confidential. So in case you find something, please only report to me."
"I will."
As soon as Ben walks back to his office, Beth picks up her phone and dials Mick's number. Quietly, she says: "We need to talk."
From the corner of the room, Ben watches her pick up her bag and leave. He sits down at his desk, leafs through the original list, and underlines the name Mick St John.
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lorig
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Re: Season 2, ep 1 'Pas de Deux' (PG13)

Post by lorig »

Read these on FF.net. I love them!! :cheer:
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wollstonecraft61
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Re: Season 2, ep 1 'Pas de Deux' (PG13)

Post by wollstonecraft61 »

Wow, I feel like I am watching the show! These are that close to the style of the first few! I am loving this!!!
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francis
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Re: Season 2, ep 1 'Pas de Deux' (PG13)

Post by francis »

Lovely, Tam. So Mick and Beth are serious now. The case was very well done. And Ben is still unsure what to make of the list. It's just like the next episode could have been. Well done.
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Re: Season 2, ep 1 'Pas de Deux' (PG13)

Post by jen »

Tan

Wonderfl start!

Thank you!

:hearts: :hearts: :flowers: :flowers: :hearts: :flowers: :flowers: :flowers:
Mick and Beth--two of the lovely faces of Moonlight
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