The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

User avatar
Shadow
Courtesan
Posts: 2636
Joined: Mon Jan 19, 2009 8:09 am

The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by Shadow »

Disclaimer: Moonlight is not mine and no copyright infringement is intended.



This is my favorite interval between episodes, and one for which I've already written a couple of stories. And since I'm rather attached to the events in those stories, this story is a little different from the others in the series. There are three different points of view in it (but don't worry, the main one is still Mick's!)

The story is posted in two parts. The second part is in the same thread.





IN BETWEEN
twelve and thirteen





The People in Our Lives



The cemetery parking lot was nearly full, and Carl had to circle it twice before he found a space for his car between two police cruisers. At least plenty of people came, he thought bleakly, getting out of the car and crossing the green lawn. Everyone from the D.A.’s office was there, along with what seemed to be half the city’s police force. And Beth, of course, standing alone in a black dress, her eyes downcast. Carl walked up to her and she nodded to him, her hands clasped together in front of her. She was wearing a diamond ring on her left hand, a ring he’d never seen her wear before. The stone sparkled in the sunlight, and she looked down at it self-consciously.

“Thank you for coming, Carl,” she said.

“Josh was a good man. And a good friend.” He glanced at the ring again. It was definitely an engagement ring – had Josh proposed to her before his death? Or was the ring in honor of Mick St. John? Carl didn’t like the way Beth had strung Josh along, making him crazy while she’d flirted with St. John, but it was hardly an uncommon thing to happen. And if she’d truly cared about both men, maybe she simply hadn’t been able to decide which way to turn.

She saw him looking at the ring, and flushed. “It’s from Josh,” she said.

“I didn’t realize you’d taken that step.”

“We hadn’t. But Josh’s jeweler gave this to me – Josh was having the stone re-cut. He was planning to propose. So I thought I should wear it today. For him.”

Carl nodded, wished her well, and moved on, carefully not asking what her answer would have been. She couldn’t have found a better man than Josh, but there was no question of her attraction to Mick St. John. Why do some women always fall for dangerous men like him? Josh had been utterly baffled by it. Carl was thankful that his own love life was nowhere near that complicated. He and Christa had been seeing each other for two years now, and neither of them had ever thought of straying. Not that we haven’t had problems. Christa had gotten a job offer in San Diego and was desperate to move there; Carl liked Los Angeles, and didn’t really want to leave. And now, with Josh’s death, he felt obligated to stay, to make sure justice was done for his murdered friend. And even if I move, I have to make sure, first, that I don’t leave a vigilante loose on these streets.

Carl glanced at his watch. Still ten minutes to go; he’d come early in case the traffic was bad. Maybe he should go ahead and find a place at the graveside. But before he could decide, he saw a tall dark figure come out from under the trees, walking straight toward Beth.

It was Mick St. John. But this wasn’t the way that Carl had expected to see him. Mick was limping badly, each step an effort, and even from where he stood Carl could see the bruises on his face. Mick made his slow way toward Beth, who was watching him in open astonishment.

Carl quietly moved closer, watching them from behind a tree. They looked awkward with each other, which was no surprise after what had happened between them when Josh died. Carl had never seen Beth in such a cold fury, all of it directed at Mick – because he hadn’t been able to save Josh’s life. No one could have saved him, the doctors had said later, but that hadn’t made any difference to Beth’s anger. Well, grief could take strange forms, especially when guilt lay beneath it. Carl had almost felt sorry for Mick, when Beth had turned her back on him. He’d looked as if she’d killed his soul.

But now they were talking. About what? It wouldn’t hurt to have a little extra information, before Carl interrogated the guy. He crept closer, and listened.

“How does it feel?” Beth asked.

“The sun, the pain, the mortality . . . it feels amazing.” Mick was looking up at the sky, with a blissful smile that made Carl wonder just how hard he’d been hit in the head. Carl hadn’t been planning to question Mick today, but on second thought, maybe this would be a good time. With his injuries, he might be off balance, and this would be advantageous to Carl. Decision made, he strode briskly toward Mick, who glanced at him and took a step away from Beth.

“Mick,” Carl said heartily. “Glad you came.”

Mick nodded to him politely.

“I need to talk to you about a couple of things. Think you’d have a minute afterward?”

Mick looked taken aback, and Beth frowned. “Carl, this is Josh’s funeral,” she said.

“Yes. And I need to make sure Josh’s killer doesn’t go loose. I need all the information I can get to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Beth lifted her chin, as if she would argue further, but Mick said quietly, “I understand. I’ve got time. It’s not a problem.”

“Good. Thanks. I’ll meet you after.” Carl turned away, and as he walked off he glanced over his shoulder. Mick was watching him, looking very unsettled. Good, Carl thought, pleased, and made his way on to the graveside.











Carl had meant to keep an eye on Mick during the ceremony, to watch his reactions, but found himself overcome with memories of Josh. No one ought to be killed like that, just doing their job – and how had a lawyer’s job ever gotten to be so dangerous? Carl was supposed to be the one with the dangerous job. He found himself tearing up, and got himself back under control just in time to meet Mick. It was time to set aside emotions, and get to work.

He led the way to his car, got in, and watched as Mick settled himself painfully in the passenger seat. Up close, his injuries looked even worse. And he was so . . . different. Carl had seen the man injured before, after the incident with Lee Jay Spaulding, but he’d still moved smoothly, confidently, even when he’d been in pain. Now he seemed unsure of himself, as if he wasn’t comfortable in his own body. Maybe that was because he’d been hit in the head. He’d certainly taken one hell of a beating. But how had that happened? The guy was a phenomenal hand-to-hand fighter – he had, after all, taken out two HEM men by himself, unarmed. He looked, now, as if he’d taken on the whole gang. But his injuries couldn’t have happened during that melee at the Hollenback Bar, even though Carl was sure that Mick had been there. He’d seen Mick himself after that, without a mark on him, when he’d gone to the station to give his statement. So what had happened? It couldn’t hurt to ask.

“How many of them were there?” he asked, gesturing at the bruises on Mick’s face.

“Two,” Mick said with a grimace.

“That’s all? Thought it would have taken four, at least, to do that kind of damage.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t quite up to par last night.”

“Last night, huh?” Had Mick gone after a few leftover gang members, and been taken by surprise? “Who was it?”

“Relatives,” Mick said shortly.

“Whose relatives?” Carl asked, thinking of Tejada.

Mick smiled ruefully. “Mine.”

Mick’s usual tight reserve was gone, his body language open – and on this, at least, Carl would have sworn that he was telling the truth.












He’d planned to take Mick to the station, but changed his mind and drove to a small café instead. It was just as well that he was driving his own car instead of a police cruiser - he didn’t want Mick putting his guard back up, and maybe he wouldn’t, if Carl kept things casual. The young waitress led them to a table in a secluded corner, and as they sat down she set out silverware and menus. Mick grabbed his menu and scanned it eagerly, waving the waitress back so that he could order immediately, and Carl shrugged and made his order too. “Hungry?” he asked dryly, as the girl tucked her pad away and left.

“Yeah, starving,” Mick said. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Well, let’s start with the information you got from Bustos. You said he told you that Tejada was holed up at the Campos Bar, right?”

“Right. That’s what he told me.” The waitress brought coffee and Mick lifted his cup to take a sip, eyes closed in pleasure. “God, this is good coffee!”

Carl sipped his, and shrugged. It was okay, but he’d hardly call it great. “We went to the Campos Bar to pick him up,” he said. “But Tejada wasn’t there.”

Mick frowned. “He’d already taken off?”

“More like, he wasn’t ever there. We figured that Bustos had lied to you. But when we confronted him about it, he swore that he’d told you it was the Hollenback Bar.” And I wish to God I’d recorded that session, Carl thought. But he hadn’t dared to. Letting Mick in there on his own had violated more rules than Carl cared to think about, and he’d had no desire to have a record made of the event.

Mick shook his head. “That’s not what he told me.”

“It also turns out that Tejada was at the Hollenback Bar.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Totally. He was gone by the time we got there, but he’d definitely been there.”

“Damn,” Mick said, looking distressed. “I could have sworn that Bustos was telling me the truth. Is Tejada still loose, then? Beth still isn’t safe?”

Beth. The reason you lied to me then, and the reason you’re lying to me now.

“He’s not loose,” Carl said.

“You caught him?”

“Nope. We found his body.”

Mick stiffened.

“The remains of it, anyway,” Carl went on. “He’d been burned, and there wasn’t much left to identify it by. We had to use dental records. Thankfully, it wasn’t a hands-on job for me.”

“Then – Beth is safe now.”

“Probably. Tejada was in total control of this chapter of HEM, and never let his underlings build up any power. I doubt that anyone else will take over, and it looks like what’s left of the gang is scattering.”

“What’s left of them?” Mick asked cautiously.

“Well, something did happen at the Hollenback Bar. The theory is that a gunfight broke out among the gang members, and some of them ended up killing each other. I guess with guys like that, it’s no surprise, right?”

“I guess.” Mick took another sip of his coffee. He’d been nervous while Carl had talked about the bar and the body, but now, drinking coffee, he seemed to be completely distracted by the taste. In the ensuing silence the waitress brought their food – a steak for Mick, a burger for Carl – and they dug in. There was nothing wrong with Mick’s appetite, for certain. It was obviously painful for him to eat, with his face so battered, but he didn’t seem to care.

“So what will happen with Beth?” Mick asked after a time. “Will she still get police protection?”

“For now. We’ll probably stand down by tomorrow, but we want to be absolutely sure she’s safe.” And you’d have been there too, insisting on protecting her, if you hadn’t already known that Tejada was dead. Carl pushed aside his empty plate and said, “So what made you so sure Bustos was telling the truth? What did you say to make him freak out like that? When we pulled him out, he was screaming that you’d turned into a devil.”

Mick flinched at the word devil, and Carl wished there’d been a camera in that interrogation room that could have picked up Mick’s face. What had Bustos seen? The go-go dancer from the bar had also spoken of el Diablo. And el Monstruo. “I made a few threats,” Mick said. “That’s all.”

“Well, you certainly scared him. Not enough to make him tell the truth, though.”

Mick looked away, his eyes downcast. “Carl – I’m sorry. I was just so sure. I hate that I sent you off in the wrong direction.”

Oddly, Carl got the impression that this time, Mick was telling the truth. He really hadn’t wanted to lie to Carl about what Bustos had told him. But he’d done it anyway. He wanted to question Bustos alone because he didn’t want us to know where Tejada was. He wanted to take Tejada out himself.

And Carl couldn’t help sympathizing. Tejada had been a horror show. He’d had Josh killed; he’d come incredibly close to killing Beth as well. And there’s Mick’s motive. Mick would do anything, anything, to protect Beth. Josh had even asked him to watch over Beth, in spite of his extreme jealousy of the man. Josh had known that Mick would keep Beth safe, no matter what happened. But he’s a vigilante, and I don’t believe for a minute that Tejada is the first person he’s killed. I can’t let this go on. The problem was, he had no real evidence. He knew, from experience and training, that Mick was lying to him, but that wasn’t proof of anything. Well, maybe he could get Mick a bit more off balance with a different sort of question.

The waitress came back to refill Mick’s coffee, and shyly asked if they wanted dessert. Mick did, of course: apple pie and ice cream. When the dessert arrived, Carl said casually, “I saw that Beth was wearing an engagement ring today.”

Mick, scooping up ice cream, only nodded. “Yeah. She was.”

“I guess she and Josh were getting pretty serious. I hadn’t realized they’d gotten engaged.”

“They hadn’t.” Mick ate his ice cream, his expression blissful. So much for hitting him with a surprise. He’d obviously known about it.

“Well, they must have. Why else would she be wearing his ring?”

Mick shook his head calmly. “He was planning to propose, but he never got the chance.”

Damn. Mick and Beth had talked a lot more than Carl had realized. “If he had proposed, I wonder if she would have said yes,” he mused, picking up his coffee.

For the first time, Mick seemed affected by the topic. He said slowly, “I don’t know. I don’t think she knows, either. But in the end . . . it wasn’t meant to be.”












Carl drove Mick back to the cemetery and dropped him off in the parking lot, which was now nearly empty. Mick put the Mercedes’ top down and climbed into the driver’s seat, looking out at the bright day. He couldn’t get over how it felt to be outdoors in the sun. It didn’t hurt. He still flinched whenever he moved from shade to sunlight, anticipating the pain, but it didn’t come. And it felt so good to sit here behind the wheel, the top down, basking in the light. The warmth crept through his entire body, and even eased the sharp ache in his knee. Mick closed his eyes and leaned his head against the seat back, letting the sunlight warm his battered face.

He was overwhelmingly glad that he’d gotten to see Beth today, to speak to her, to tell her that he was human. She hadn’t turned away from him, hadn’t asked him to leave her alone. She was still part of his life. There was still hope. Between that, and being human, Mick wasn’t sure he’d ever been happier before in his life.

He supposed he ought to be worried about Carl’s interrogation. Carl didn’t seem to suspect him of anything supernatural – not yet, at least – but he did suspect that Mick had lied to the police. And I’m pretty sure he believes that I killed Tejada. He may even have witnesses. This was dangerous. Mick couldn’t afford to be arrested or jailed, not even now. There was no telling when the cure would wear off, when he would turn back into a vampire – and a vampire could never survive imprisonment. If things got bad enough, he’d still have to disappear.

But at this moment, he couldn’t seem to care. It was impossible to believe that things would ever get that bad. Beth wasn’t angry with him any more, and he was, incredibly and amazingly, human. There was so much to do, to feel, to experience. He hardly knew where to start. He remembered the minister’s words at the funeral . . . make the most of the time we are given. There was sheer wonder everywhere around him. He traced a finger along the edge of the steering wheel, feeling the warmth and the texture of it. His newfound sense of touch kept astonishing him: he’d known it had been diminished when he was a vampire, but he hadn’t realized how much. If only I could have touched Beth today.

He sat up straight and started the car, wondering where to go. He could drive to the beach, lie in the sand, let the sunlight sink deep into his bones. He remembered, now, those long summer days with Rosie, idyllic days spent swimming in the sea and running on the sand. He’d loved the beach when he’d been human, but he couldn’t recall any time that he’d ever gone there alone. I won’t go yet. Not until I can take Beth with me. He might miss it altogether – he might, after all, lose his humanity tomorrow – but somehow, he didn’t want to go there without Beth.

Instead . . . well, he certainly needed to do some shopping. He needed to buy food, for one thing. Real food, not takeout – preferably items that would keep, or could be frozen, in case it took a while for him to figure out how to use the stove. He’d better get sunscreen, too, if he wanted to keep soaking up the sun. And he needed a bed, of course, complete with pillows, sheets, and blankets. He imagined sinking into a soft mattress, his head cushioned on a feather pillow, and nearly fell asleep just thinking about it. He’d forgotten, too, how tired humans got.













By dusk he was back at his apartment, surveying the new arrangements. The bedroom upstairs was full of storage, so he’d left the bed downstairs, next to the couch. He could always move things around later, and he wanted to sleep in the bed tonight. There were pillows and new sheets on the bed, and a brand-new alarm clock on the table beside it. The kitchen was full of groceries – bread from a bakery, bottles of wine, fruit and coffee, fresh-squeezed orange juice. He’d put frozen vegetables and ice cream upstairs in his freezer, taking intense satisfaction in using the appliance for something so prosaically normal. Happily he sat on the edge of the bed, and wished he could share this joy with Beth. Or with Josef. Or Elaine.

It was far too soon for him to seek out Beth, though, and he wasn’t quite ready to face Josef. Mick was almost sure that Josef had known something about the cure, and had lied to him about it. How could Josef not have been aware of it? He kept up with everything in both worlds, human and vampire, and the cure crossed both of those worlds.

Elaine. Mick picked up his keys, put his coat back on, and headed out.












It was completely dark by the time he reached Elaine’s little house. Mick parked out front and turned off the engine, trying to relax his grip on the wheel. Night driving was a very different experience now – he was sure his vision was normal, for a human, but he felt like he couldn’t see a thing in the dark. He couldn’t react as quickly, either, couldn’t move the car as if it were part of his body. The last time I felt this way, I crashed the car and nearly killed myself. Four blocks away from here. But he’d been drugged and ill, then. This was different . . . it was normal. And normal was something that he could definitely get used to.

There was a light on in Elaine’s house. He pushed open the car door and got out, but his bad knee gave way and he stumbled, falling to the pavement. Human joints stiffened when they were injured, too; he remembered that now. Ruefully he pushed himself up and strode to the front door, glad that no one had seen his fall. He hesitated at the door: he couldn’t smell Elaine, or sense her presence, but she ought to be home at this hour. He knocked briskly, but there was no movement, and the house stayed silent. Was she not at home? Or did she simply not realize it was him? She probably wasn’t in the habit of answering the door to random humans, after all.

“Elaine!” he called out, knocking again. “It’s Mick! Are you home?”

An instant later the door opened, and Elaine stood there, her face turning pale with shock. “Mick?” she said, her voice full of horror. “Oh my God, Mick!” She caught his arms and pulled him into the house, shoving the door shut behind him.

“Elaine -- ”

“You’re bleeding! Mick, what happened? How can you be hurt again? You’re not healing! You’re not -- ” Her panicked voice trailed off as she took in his scent, and she abruptly let go of him, and backed away.

“Not a vampire,” Mick finished for her. “Elaine, I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He hadn’t thought of how it would look, coming into her house injured. And there was blood on his hands, just as there had been before, blood he hadn’t even noticed. He must have scraped his hands on the pavement when he’d fallen.

“You’re mortal,” Elaine whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I – I never thought you’d really -- ” She glanced at his hands again, her eyes drawn inexorably to his human blood. She turned away abruptly and went into the kitchen, opening up a cabinet to take out a bottle of whisky. Mick slipped past her through the living room to the bathroom, and quietly washed the blood off his hands. The scrapes weren’t deep, and they’d already stopped bleeding. When he returned to the living room Elaine was sitting hunched in a chair, two full glasses in her hands and the bottle on the table beside her. Mick took one of the glasses from her and cautiously settled himself on the couch, careful of his aching leg.

Elaine was staring down into her glass, and Mick raised his to catch the scent of the drink. So strange . . . he could once have identified every ingredient, and he couldn’t begin to now, but the smell meant something now. The aromas of food and drink had been intense before, but somehow meaningless. But now . . . he took a sip and the drink burned his throat wonderfully, flaring with subtle flavors. Mick took another blissful swallow of whisky, and looked up to see that Elaine had almost finished her glass.

“It’s good stuff,” he said.

“It’s just the cheap kind,” Elaine said with a stiff shrug. “I didn’t think you’d like it.”

“It’s wonderful. Of course I like it.”

She eyed him curiously. “Is it that different, drinking as a human?”

“Oh God, yes. Don’t you -- ” He’d been about to say don’t you remember, but of course she couldn’t. Elaine had never once drunk alcohol when she’d been human. “It’s all different,” he said, lifting his glass to drink down the rest of it.

“Really.” Elaine picked up the bottle and refilled both their glasses. After she’d drunk most of her second glass, she said, “How did it even happen? How did you find this -- cure?”

“Coraline. She brought it to me.”

Brought it to you? Why?”

He shrugged uneasily. When had Coraline ever given anyone anything, without demanding something in return? But last night she’d not only given him the cure, she’d sacrificed herself in order to save him from Lance. “She was human for months,” he said. “Maybe . . . maybe it changed her. Maybe it made her understand, finally, why I wanted it so much. She said she’d taken my life from me, and she wanted to give back what she could.”

“Coraline said that?” Elaine’s voice was skeptical. “That sure doesn’t sound like her. She can’t possibly have meant it.”

“No, I think she did.” Mick frowned, and took another drink from his glass. Coraline had seemed like a different woman last night, someone he’d never known before, the kind of person he’d only dreamed she could be. He thought of the lost look in her eyes when Lance had carried her away, her fear when he’d approached her with the stake. She hadn’t been acting. She really had sacrificed herself. Mick looked intently at Elaine. “And I know how she felt. About – about giving back. I wish I could give back what I took from you.”

“You didn’t take anything from me,” Elaine said, her voice flat. “I was dying anyway. And why the hell would I want to be human again?”

“It’s so different,” Mick murmured. “So different. I’d forgotten so much. I can remember my childhood again, and it was just a blur before. Wouldn’t you want that back?”

“Why would I? I hated my childhood. I was glad when you told me I could never see my family again.”

“But you loved Chloe.” Mick finished his drink and tried to set down the empty glass. His hand wavered and he nearly dropped it, but he finally managed to get it onto the table beside him. “Being human . . . it changes the way you remember. It changes everything. The things I did as a vampire feel . . . distant. And the things that came before . . . they’re clearer.”

“It changes everything?” Elaine’s face twisted with pain. She slammed her glass to the floor, and it shattered. Mick flinched, instantly remembering how he’d broken Rosie’s window, so long ago, shards of glass flying as he lunged through it to attack her . . . some of the things I did as a vampire are clearer, too. Oh, Rosie. “Has it changed the things you’ve done?” Elaine asked bitterly. “The people you’ve killed?”

“No,” Mick whispered. He felt suddenly dizzy, nauseated, and realized vaguely that he was drunk. Very drunk. How much whisky had Elaine poured into those glasses, anyway? He’d been drinking like a vampire, with his mind on other things. Maybe he could have tolerated that much alcohol when he’d been human before, but his body wasn’t used to it now -- he hadn’t really had a drink in over fifty years. All his elation had fled somewhere, leaving emptiness behind, and he knew that Elaine was right. It might feel more distant, but nothing he’d done as a vampire had changed. Not what he’d done to Rosie, not what he’d done to all those other innocents. He felt himself falling, but suddenly Elaine was there, holding him in a strong, gentle grip. Her hands were so cold . . . he’d never noticed that before. His hands would be like that again, soon; he’d turn back into ice. His face must be cold again already, the tears were so hot against it.

“I’m sorry,” Elaine whispered. “God, I didn’t mean to say that to you. It’s just - you’re all I’ve got, and you’re mortal now. You’ll – you’ll get old. You’ll die. I know that’s what you want, and I’m trying to be glad for you, I really am, but it just . . . hurts.”

Mick couldn’t answer. He felt Elaine ease him down onto the couch, felt its rough cloth against his tear-streaked face.

“And damn it all, look at you. Two glasses of whisky and you’re out for the count; you’ve already gotten yourself beaten up . . . hell, you’re not going to live long enough to get old.”

“Won’t,” Mick murmured. “Won’t get older.”

“What? Mick, what do you mean?”

“Won’t last. I’ll turn back.” And why, why, did that have to happen? Why couldn’t he stay human, and live his dream?

“You’ll turn back?” Elaine’s voice caught. “When?”

“Soon. Too soon.”

“I’m . . . I’m sorry, Mick,” she said. But even a drunken human, on the verge of passing out, could tell that she wasn’t sorry at all.












Sunlight shone through the dappled leaves above him, and Mick pulled himself up to the branch that was his goal, grinning. Good job! Sam yelled from the ground below. You did it! Their mother appeared at Sam’s side, looking somehow proud and appalled at the same time, and called out, Wonderful, Mick! But come down now, would you? Mick started down carefully, not wanting to scare her. His father said that she was in a delicate condition these days, and it was important for both boys to make things easy for her. Once he was on the ground she pulled him to her and gave him a quick hug, which was okay since nobody but Sam was watching. And he’d never admit it even to Sam, but Mick liked having the chance to feel her rounded belly, to wonder about the new life that was yet to come. What will the future be like?

I don’t know, Sam said, as they both finished off their bottles of beer. What’s going to happen to us, Mick? And how’s Rosie going to manage? Rosie was only eleven, and both of her brothers were about to go off to war. Mick was leaving tomorrow, for basic training, and after that he’d be sent to Europe. Sam would be following soon after. Sam said, Daphne and I were going to try and start a family. But what if I get killed out there? I don’t want to leave her all alone with a baby on the way. Mick didn’t know what to answer, didn’t know what Sam and his wife ought to do. All he could think of was how simple everything was now. All this time he’d spent worrying over what his career should be, and now he knew that all he really wanted was a family. He wanted to get married, and have kids. With the war looming over him, would he ever have a chance for that? Would he ever even see his parents again, or Rosie?

Do they even have a chance? Mick watched wearily as the last ambulance disappeared over a rise, leaving only a trail of dust behind. A three-man patrol had walked into a nest of land mines, and the results had been horrific . . . Mick’s mind shuddered away from what he’d seen. He’d kept the men alive long enough to get them sent to a field hospital, but he didn’t know if they could possibly survive. Well, he’d done all he could. This crisis, at least, was over. He could finally sit down and read the letter that had arrived in the middle of it: a letter from home, one of the only things that could carry him away from all this blood and death. He pulled it out of his pocket, smiled at Rosie’s careful handwriting on the envelope, and ripped it open. No photographs this time, which was odd . . . just a single sheet of paper . . . Dear Mick, maybe the Army has already notified you, but in case they haven’t there’s something I have to tell you. Only I don’t know how. I never thought anything could happen to him behind the lines, but – Sam’s dead, Mick. There was a bomb. The building where he was working was destroyed . . . .

“No,” Mick whispered, staring at the letter. “No.” He was standing still, but he was falling, falling . . . and as he fell, he felt his body jerk awake. He sat up with a start, shaking, and stared around the room. He was indoors, not out in the field; there was no letter in his hand. The war was over, long over. He’d been dreaming, dreams full of old memories, some wonderful and some still too painful to bear. But God, since when had dreams feel like that?

“Mick?” A girl came into the room. Was it Rosie? She almost always came to him, when the nightmares were bad . . . but no, of course it couldn’t be her. His vision cleared. He saw Elaine, and remembered who he was now, and where he was. That was a human dream, he realized. He was dazed by its power. But it must, at least, mean that he was still human. He touched his face to make sure, feeling, with a rush of relief, the aching pain of deep bruises. “Mick,” Elaine said again. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Got a hangover?” she asked, her voice dry.

He had a headache, he was desperately thirsty . . . for water, what a novel thought . . . and he seemed to be hallucinating: he suddenly saw Logan behind her, his mouth open in surprise, a laptop tucked under his arm.

“Holy crap,” Logan said. “I don’t believe it.”











A few minutes later, in Elaine’s tiny bathroom, Mick leaned over the sink and stared into the mirror. The cuts and bruises were still there, and he was thoroughly rumpled and bleary-eyed. No wonder Logan looked so shocked. Mick filled a glass with water from the sink and gulped it down, then refilled it and went back out into the living room. Elaine and Logan had taken over the couch, and Logan was showing her something on the laptop. What were they saying? He couldn’t hear. He felt disoriented, as if he’d been deafened – but no, he wasn’t deaf, he was just human. This was normal, but he couldn’t help wishing, just for an instant, that he could hear their discussion. Something strange seemed to be going on. Elaine was gazing down at the little laptop raptly, and Logan, in contrast, appeared thoroughly uneasy.

They both looked up as he approached. Elaine pulled the computer possessively into her lap, and Logan stared at Mick in open astonishment.

“It is something you took, right, Mick?” he asked nervously. “You didn’t just – well - spontaneously turn human, did you?”

“Vampires never spontaneously turn human, Logan,” Mick said, settling himself in a chair. “Don’t worry. It was something I took.”

“Wow.” Logan looked relieved, and slightly impressed. “I mean, I know you always said you didn’t like being a vampire, but I didn’t think you really meant it.”

“And did you really mean what you said last night?” Elaine asked. “That it’s temporary?”

“Yeah.”

“It is?” Logan said, startled.

How temporary?”

Mick wished, now, that he’d asked Coraline more about that, when they’d been walking away from his building. She’d started to explain, but he’d been distracted by the warmth flooding through his body, and then Lance had appeared, and it had all been too late. “Coraline said she got about six months from it. But she was surprised it had lasted that long, so I guess it’ll probably be less than that.”

“How does it work?” Logan asked. “Is there any way to measure it in your blood, to tell when it’s going to wear off?”

“I don’t want to know when it’s going to wear off,” Mick said. All he really wanted was a way to replicate it, and the blood sample he’d drawn from himself was now his only hope for that. A very faint hope, but it was all he had left. The sample he’d taken from Coraline had broken in his shirt pocket, and he’d lost the bloodstained shirt somewhere in the melee surrounding Josh’s death. He’d had it in his hand when Beth had picked him up at the curb, and he thought he’d dropped it in the car, but later, when he’d looked, it hadn’t been there.

Coraline said that there was more of the cure, somewhere. Hidden. But Mick couldn't find any hope in her words. It could be hidden anywhere in the world. How would I ever find it?

“Whoa. So it could happen any time.” Logan’s eyes were wide. “What if you’re out in the sun when you change back?”

“I guess it’ll hurt,” Mick said dryly. “Come on, sunlight isn’t a big deal. It’s not like I’ll burst into flames.” It would actually be a much bigger problem if he changed back in public in the next few days, when someone might see his wounds instantly heal, but he wasn’t going to worry about that, either. “Please tell me you know that, Logan.”

“Well, yeah, but -- ” Logan glanced sideways at the window, where the first faint light of dawn was showing through the gap in the curtains. “I sure don’t go out in it.”

“What happens when you turn back?” Elaine asked abruptly. “Is it – will it - it won’t be like being a new turn, will it?”

“No,” Mick said quickly. He felt sure of that; Coraline had been completely under control when she’d turned back. And there would be nothing to adjust to. He’d already been there, and he knew, now, how to deal with it. “I’ll just go back to where I was before,” he told Elaine.

“Okay.” Relieved, she sat back, still holding the computer.

“New laptop?” Mick asked, nodding toward it.

“Yeah,” Elaine said. “I got this super cheap on ebay, and it doesn’t work, but Logan said he’d fix it for me.” She was too closed for him to read her, and even as a vampire he hadn’t been able to tell what she was thinking half the time, but she was holding the laptop as if it were a child, almost caressing it, and he was sure it wasn’t a mere bargain she’d picked up.

Logan was still nervously eyeing the gap in the curtains. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, and reluctantly Elaine handed him the computer. When she saw Mick watching her, she flushed, and looked away.












Logan left Elaine’s house ten minutes before Mick did, but two blocks down, Mick saw Logan’s little car pulled over at the side of the road, with a hand waving from the driver’s window. Good thing it’s nearly dawn, or I’d never have seen that. Mick brought the Mercedes to a stop in front of the other car, and got out to meet Logan by the curb.

“What’s up with the laptop?” Mick asked, before Logan could say a word. “Where did Elaine get it?”

“I don’t know where she got hold of it, or how . . . but it’s Kevin’s computer,” Logan said.

Mick frowned. “But it doesn’t work, right?”

“Oh, it works. But it’s got security. Elaine wants me to break the passwords so she can look at all his files.”

Mick stared at him, dismayed. “What does she want to do? Find out if he wrote anything about her?”

“I don’t know. But I’m afraid that’s it. I don’t think he did write anything about her, though, and there is some stuff about another woman in there. Intimate stuff.”

“How do you know that?”

“I already broke all the passwords, while I was waiting for you. I didn’t say it was good security.”

“Hell,” Mick muttered.

“Yeah. I figure I can put her off for a while, and say it’s a big job or something, but eventually I’ve got to give it to her. Maybe I oughta erase some of those files,” he said miserably, “but that wouldn’t be right.”

Mick put a hand to his mouth, thinking. His first impulse was to grab the laptop from Logan and erase the offending files himself, but how could he do that? If Elaine really wanted to look into her husband’s secrets, he didn’t have any right to stop her. But why is she doing this to herself? “Delay it as long as you can, all right?” Mick said at last. “It’ll give her more time to heal. And tell me, before you give it to her. Okay?”

“Okay,” Logan said. “I told her it would probably take at least a couple of weeks.”

“Good. Then we’ll be ready.” And surely Elaine knew what to expect, Mick thought as he drove on through the dark pre-dawn. She had to know that it was unlikely in the extreme that Kevin had written a word about her; she had to know that there would have been other women in his life. She’ll be all right. He couldn’t quite convince himself of this, but nothing would happen for at least two weeks, and that left him free . . . he didn’t need to worry about it, not yet. He could still enjoy every moment; he could still make the most of the time he’d been given.

And what to do, in this moment? Everything was still so intense, so amazing; the cool reserve of the vampire was gone and he could feel things in ways that he’d forgotten were possible. In this short day Mick had already felt joy beyond belief, and despair that had brought him to tears.

That morning, and the next morning, he watched the sun rise. He ate food from the freezer, puzzled over the stove, and spent an entire afternoon wandering through the streets near his building, in the full light of day. He thought of Beth, of the way she’d watched him in the sun, of the look on her face when she’d found out he was human. Each night he dreamed, more vividly than he could ever remember dreaming before, and on the second night he woke in a sweat, wildly disoriented, with his head spinning and the building swaying beneath him. In an earthquake.





-
Last edited by Shadow on Tue May 22, 2018 5:18 am, edited 2 times in total.
User avatar
Shadow
Courtesan
Posts: 2636
Joined: Mon Jan 19, 2009 8:09 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by Shadow »

-












“Carl, wake up,” Christa said, her voice urgent. “Carl!” He came awake in an instant, adrenaline surging, and heard the sound of the TV in the background. He glanced at the bedside clock: 2:16 AM. What was going on?

“What’s up?” he asked blearily. He hadn’t been getting near enough sleep these days.

“You slept through an earthquake,” she said wryly. “I went to check the news, and it didn’t seem like there was much damage overall, but they just said the Palm Tree Apartments had collapsed. I thought you had a witness there.”

“Oh, hell. I do.” Carl lunged out of bed and started pulling on clothes at random.

“Who is it?” Christa asked.

“That dancer from the Hollenback bar. Damn, I hope she’s okay. Did they say if anybody was hurt?”

“I don’t think anyone knows yet. The rescue crews are just showing up now.”

As he picked up his coat and keys, Carl glanced quickly at the TV screen. It looked awful, like a war zone . . . the building had collapsed completely, and there was nothing left but rubble. He shrugged into his coat, still staring at the screen, and Christa pushed a thermos into his hand. “I made coffee,” she said. “Be careful, okay?”

“Always,” he said, kissing her quickly. “Thanks for picking up on that, Christa. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Go back to sleep if you can.”

“Yeah, right,” Christa said. She was an insomniac at the best of times; she could only rarely get back to sleep if something woke her in the night. She waved him away and he hurried down to the parking garage, grateful that his own apartment building was apparently up to code. There wasn’t a sign, here, that anything had happened. And as he drove through the city streets, he didn’t see much out of the ordinary. There were a few more sirens than usual, but that was all. But when Carl pulled up at the Palm Tree Apartments, flashing his badge to get past the hastily-constructed barricade, he saw complete devastation.

The news services were out in force, Buzzwire included – was Beth here? – and rescue squads were swarming over the rubble. A redheaded woman had a search dog on a lead, and uniformed cops were trying to impose some kind of order. Carl spotted a group of civilians huddled on blankets nearby, and hastily scanned the crowd. He breathed again when he saw Darlene, standing to one side with a blanket wrapped around her and a bottle in her hand. He hurried up to her anxiously.

“Darlene! You okay?”

She gave him a dazed look, blinked, and then finally seemed to recognize him. “I don’t think much of your safe house,” she muttered. “Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.”

Carl closed his eyes. It wasn’t his fault there’d been a goddamned earthquake, but it was one hell of a bad omen, and he simply couldn’t afford to lose this witness. This guy crashed in; he beat up some of the guys and knocked down Mr. Tejada’s door, she’d said, when no one else would talk. I heard screaming, and when the guy left, I went in to see. Mr. Tejada was dead. I was scared, I ran off. Darlene had identified St. John from a photo lineup. Of course, she’d also claimed that he’d turned into a devil somewhere along the way, but it was a start. Carl should at least be able to use her testimony to get a warrant to search St. John’s place. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that Darlene and Bustos had both referred to St. John as el Diablo. Was it just a weird coincidence, or something significant?

And speak of the devil. Beth was here, and she was standing – of course – with Mick St. John. This was not a good place for Darlene to be. He quickly led her to his car, making sure her blanket concealed her and that his face was turned away, and as he got her into the passenger seat he heard a dog’s sharp bark. He looked back over his shoulder. The redheaded woman’s search dog was standing, excited, in a part of the rubble that looked like every other part, and a group of rescuers was hurrying toward them. The woman gently pulled the dog away and led him out of the rubble, then sat on a blanket and watched the work crew intently.

“Hey,” Carl said to a uniformed cop who stood nearby. He knew the man slightly – what was his name again? Keith Sanders, wasn’t it? “Keith, did that dog just find someone buried under there?”

“Probably,” Keith said. “That dog’s pretty amazing. Every place where he’s stopped and barked, they’ve found somebody buried.”

“Who’s still missing?”

“One family. Parents, two kids.”

Carl looked from the rescue crew to the woman and dog on the blanket, and an idea began to form. A skilled, trained dog could trace a scent just about anywhere, couldn’t it? But dog-tracking evidence didn’t tend to hold up in court, not since the Pickett case back in the eighties. Anyway, a dog wouldn’t be able to tell when Mick had been at the Hollenback Bar.

Carl sighed, letting go of the idea. “Thanks, Keith,” he said, and took a last furtive look at St. John. The man was sitting on the ground, for some reason, and Beth was beside him, her arm around his shoulders. They were so intent on each other, they hadn’t noticed him, or Darlene, at all. Carl thought of Josh, and his jaw tightened. It just wasn’t right for Beth to make out with Mick, here in public, so soon after Josh’s death.

Except, Carl suddenly realized, that wasn’t actually what was going on. Something was wrong. Beth looked frightened and worried, and Mick was trembling, his face strained with emotion, his gaze faraway. Mick’s posture and expression reminded Carl, forcefully, of a friend who’d come home from Iraq with PTSD. I think he’s had a flashback. A rough one. He had never imagined Mick St. John having that kind of vulnerability . . . there wasn’t a trace, now, of the man’s usual elegant arrogance.

Carl frowned thoughtfully. His assumptions about Mick weren’t all true, it seemed. He knew that Mick had lied to him about Bustos. But did the rest necessarily follow? Carl was almost certain that Mick had killed Tejada, but before he went all out on the case, it would sure be nice to have a cross check. Huh. Maybe there is a way I can use a tracking dog in this case.

“Hey, Keith. Who’s the woman with the dog?”

“Volunteer from search and rescue. I’ve got her certification here someplace.” Keith pulled out a pad and flipped over a page. “Her name’s Morrison. Esme Morrison.”

“Have you got her contact info?”

“Sure.”

Carl tucked away the scrap of paper Keith handed him and drove off with his witness, working out plans in his head.












The man had fallen when Tangent had barked, collapsing as if he’d been shot, and the blond reporter now huddled next to him, one arm around him. Esme could almost feel the man’s distress from where she sat. Memories were roiling over him . . . Esme pulled her own senses away from him, tuning it all out. She was far too well practiced at this; she’d never had much chance to compare notes with others, but she was certain that she was far more sensitive to emotional memories than any vampire ought to be. If she didn’t keep her concentration, she couldn’t walk down a street without being overwhelmed, every few steps, by an image of something that had once happened there.

Tangent snuggled up to her, pushing at her hand, and she stroked his silky head. He was a good dog, one of the very few she’d adopted, and trained successfully, as an adult. She hadn’t needed to train him to follow a scent, of course, but it had taken months for her to overcome his instinctive fear of her. Once that was done, though, teaching him hand signals had been easy enough.

He was easily distracted, and would never be as good a disguise as most of her dogs had been, but he’d do. Petting Tangent, Esme thought with a pang of little Cipher, the best dog she’d ever had. He was long gone now, of course, but she would never forget him.

She heard shouts from the rubble, and she smiled as she saw rescuers pulling the last trapped family to safety. They were all alive, she knew, and uninjured except for the younger girl’s broken arm. One job finished. How many more to come?

Another wave of emotion passed over her, and she glanced sideways at the man with the blond reporter. He was gazing at her as if he knew her. After a moment he got up stiffly, with the woman’s help, and walked, limping, straight toward her.

She watched him approach. Did she know him from somewhere? He was human, near thirty, a tall handsome man in a long black coat. His face was cut and bruised, as if he’d recently been in a fight; his hair was long enough to fall over the top of his turned-up collar. A silver chain glinted at his throat, and he wore a heavy, ornate ring on his index finger. The ring caught her eye, and he seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place him at all. Still, he obviously recognized her. He stopped in front of her and said, “Esme?”

“Yes?”

He said hesitantly, “That’s your name? Esme?”

“Yes, Esme Morrison.” She eyed him curiously. “And you are?”

“Mick St. John.”

Esme frowned, thinking. His name was familiar too, but it was just as elusive as the rest; she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it before. “Have we met?”

“Yes, I think we have.”

His intent look made her uncomfortable. Uncertainly, she said, “I’m afraid I don’t remember. What was the occasion?”

“It was in London. A rescue operation, like this one. Only you had a different dog. A smaller one, with long brown hair and one blue eye.”

Cipher. She whispered the name aloud, stunned. How could this man know about Cipher? She’d had the little dog decades ago, during the second world war. I had him while I was in London. But this man couldn’t possibly be older than thirty, unless she was missing a scent she’d never missed before. She drew in a breath, but there was no doubt of it: he was human.

“Yes, Cipher,” the man said, as if he remembered the little dog as well as she did. “Who’s this one?” He gestured at Tangent, who was watching him with great interest.

“Tangent.” She had to be missing something. She tried to stop staring at him, tried to catch the scent of vampire. If he’s human, how does he know all this? And why, why does he look so familiar?

“There was a girl trapped in the rubble, pinned there,” he said in a rush. “She had to have her arm amputated.”

Esme had found such a young girl once, during the war. The girl had been buried beneath a collapsed building after a raid, and they hadn’t been able to get her out because her hand had been crushed in the wreckage. “When was this?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm, trying to sound bored, and disbelieving.

“1942,” he said. “The end of December.”

The wind shifted, blowing through his hair and flattening his coat against his legs, and she caught it then. He was human, but there was a faint scent of vampire clinging to his coat. Was this some sort of trap? Was another vampire using this man, trying to expose her? Who would, now that her sire and his other fledglings were so mercifully dead? It didn’t matter. She had to get out of here.

She managed a shaky laugh. “Is this some sort of joke? I really don’t think I need to hear any more of this.” She got to her feet, reaching quickly for Tangent’s lead, and turned to leave.

“Please,” he said. “Please, listen to me.” Unwillingly she paused, held still by the desperation in his voice. Quickly he went on, “I haven’t always been the way I am now. After the war, I changed. To what you are. And a few days ago, I changed back.”

“Changed back!” Esme shook her head in disbelief. What was this man after, with this completely crazed story? Oh God, if only there were some way to change back! There had been rumors of a cure now and again, but she’d found only false trails, leading nowhere. “There is no such thing as changing back,” she cried out, unable to stop herself. “No way, no hope, no return.” And now she’d as much as admitted that she knew exactly what he was talking about. She had to get away from here, quickly. Out of Los Angeles, perhaps out of the country entirely. She started away but he stepped in front of her, struggling with his bad leg, and something about the way he moved, something about the fear in his face, stirred her memory. She stopped again, pulling Tangent to a halt.

“Look at me,” he said, very low. “You’ve met me before. I looked younger then, but you know me.”

She gazed into his eyes, mesmerized. “How much younger?” she whispered. Could what he’d claimed be true? Was it even possible?

“I was twenty.”

She closed her eyes, remembering the night she’d found that little girl. December 1942. The girl, Mary, had had to have her arm amputated on the spot. There’d been no doctor onsite, and no time to send for one. But there had been a very young American medic, a young man who’d arrived at the incident and had started caring for the wounded. In a rush she remembered: his name was Mick. He’d been afraid to go in after Mary, afraid to do the amputation, but he’d done it anyway. She’d helped him with the aftermath, and he’d held the little girl in his arms, keeping her warm, until the ambulance came. Esme opened her eyes again, and let the real image of the man overlay her memory. Ten years of aging, longer hair, eyes that were infinitely older . . . “Mick,” she said at last.

He nodded cautiously, his eyes suddenly full of hope, and the hope made him look astonishingly young.

It was him. It was impossible, but it was true, and there was no doubt of it. “You were the medic,” she whispered, and felt her world turn upside down.













There is a cure. Two days later Esme sat in the back seat of a cab, staring blankly out the window as the city streets passed by. Sort of. Beside her, Tangent peered out the opposite window, his ears pricked with interest. Esme thought of how startled Mick had been, when Tangent had pushed up against him, asking to be petted. Mick really had just turned human – he’d been a vampire for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like for an animal to trust him. Esme remembered how hesitantly he’d reached out to Tangent, his face full of wonder.

The cure wasn’t a real one, Mick had told her. It was only temporary. And it was gone. His injuries had come about when he’d tried to protect the friend who had given it to him. This woman had stolen it, apparently, and the rightful owners had come to take it back. Mick had refused to tell Esme anything else. It was too dangerous, he’d said. Not worth the risk, when the cure wouldn’t even last.

But temporary or not, it existed. Mick’s mortality wasn’t a fantasy, or a rumor. It was real. And if a temporary cure existed, might there not be a permanent one someday? Esme felt a rush of envy for Mick, human even for a limited time, and a surge of hope for that elusive someday in the future.

And she was fascinated by Mick. He hadn’t come to her to tell her about the cure – how could he have guessed that she would want it, too? He’d come to ask her what had happened to that trapped little girl. He wondered about her, and worried about her, for over sixty years. Esme remembered Mary startlingly well; she’d visited her several times in the hospital. Can I see Mick? Mary had asked. He must feel bad about what he had to do. He kept telling me he was sorry. But Mick had already been gone, shipped out with his unit only hours after the rescue.

Esme leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. It had felt so good to tell Mick about Mary, to see his delighted reaction, the way his whole face lit up when he smiled . . . but there had still been sadness behind that smile. The thought of Mary had reminded him of someone else, someone special to him. Who?

“We’re here, Miss,” the cab driver said, and Esme hastily paid him and scrambled out, pausing on the pavement with Tangent at her heel. She’d been in many police stations over the years, offering her services to help track down criminals or locate missing children, and this one looked no different from the rest. She pulled out her planner and glanced at the name of the officer who’d called her today. Lieutenant Carl Davis. She pocketed the planner and led Tangent through the front door.











“Thanks for coming,” Carl said, from the other side of his cluttered desk. She recognized him; she’d seen him, briefly, on the night of the apartment collapse. He was in plainclothes, as he’d been that night. He looked kind enough, and had a friendly face, but he seemed to be under a great deal of strain.

“What can I do to help?” Esme asked.

Carl glanced at Tangent, who was lying at her feet with his head between his paws. “I need to find out if a suspect was in a certain building, about a week ago.”

“Do you have anything belonging to the suspect? Something my dog can get a scent from? An item of clothing would be best.”

“Yeah, I do.” Carl gestured to a passing cop in uniform, whispering to him, “Get me that evidence bag. Mick St. John’s shirt.” Esme’s eyes widened in shock. Was Mick Carl’s suspect? Her heart was suddenly racing. What was going on? She had to find out, but she didn’t dare reveal that she knew the suspect. It would be better not to ask Carl about him directly. Surely there was another way?

Keeping her face impassive, she made small talk with Carl, scarcely aware of what she was saying. At the same time she let down her barriers, and found herself listening, all at once, to ten more conversations. She heard details of other cases, discussions of lunch venues, a low-voiced and very graphic description of a sexual encounter . . . frustrated, Esme gave Tangent a nudge with her foot. He got up, shook himself, turned in a circle, and settled down again beside her. And someone, thankfully, noticed. While she listened to Carl chat about his girlfriend, Christa, she took in the new conversation.

“What’s with the dog?”

“It’s for Carl’s case. A tracking dog.”

“A tracking dog? Why? I thought Carl’s witness already ID’d St. John.”

“Sure, but she’s a flake. Her testimony might not stand up.”

“And this will? Even if St. John was at the Hollenback bar, it isn’t proof he killed Tejada.”


“No, it’s not. But if he was there, Carl’s gonna go all out on this case. And if he wasn’t, well – he’ll drop it.”

“Wish he’d drop it anyway. Whoever killed Tejada ought to get a medal, not prison time. Did you hear what he did to that prosecutor’s wife in La Palma? Josh Lindsay’s not the first person Tejada killed.”

“I know that. But you know how Carl feels about vigilantes. Can’t have ‘em on the street.”

Esme thought about that. Humans were probably right to fear vigilantes; humans seeking revenge had a tendency to be deluded, or misinformed. But it was different for vampires, who had ways of finding out the truth. If Mick had killed this Tejada, he’d had good reason. The terrible death of ADA Josh Lindsay had been all over the news ever since Esme had arrived in town, and there were times when vampire philosophy, blood is vengeance, made sense even to her. It had been a long time since she’d known of a vampire who sought justice, who tried to help and protect humans. And now that there was one, apparently those same humans wanted only to destroy him.

“And Christa said – ah, here it is.” Carl took a plastic evidence bag from the uniformed cop and held it out to Esme. “Will this work?”

The bag held a dark blue man’s shirt, and even through the plastic Esme could detect the scent of vampire. The same scent that had clung, ever so faintly, to Mick’s coat. Mick had definitely worn it as a vampire – but there was also blood on the shirt, blood from a human woman. Esme frowned uncertainly.

“Is the blood his?” she asked, though she knew that it wasn’t.

“No, it isn’t. But I thought we could cut that part away, if we’re careful and use gloves. Will that work?”

Esme leaned closer, taking a deep, deliberate breath. Mick, grabbing the blond reporter, throwing her to the ground beneath him . . . a bullet whizzing past, nearly hitting them both . . . a tube of blood in Mick’s pocket, crushed between them, spilling over his shirt . . .

She sighed with relief. It was only a blood sample; she hadn’t misjudged Mick. But how had she seen it all so clearly? She wasn’t even at the site where it had happened, but she’d heard the bullet fly past, felt the shards of glass raining down on her head. I’ve made a connection with Mick. Somehow. She didn’t know how it had happened. But as of this moment, she could guarantee that Tangent wasn’t going to detect Mick’s presence in the bar. Whether he’d been there or not.

“It’ll work,” she said.











But Carl didn’t take them to the Hollenback Bar. He drove them in a patrol car to an apartment building across from Pershing Square, and in the lobby Esme instantly caught multiple layers of Mick’s scent, both as a human and as a vampire. This could not possibly be the crime scene; most likely it was Mick’s home, and Carl was testing Tangent’s skills. Oh God, I’d better be right about this. On Esme’s signal the dog began to bark excitedly, pushing his nose against the doors of the penthouse elevator. Esme looked at Carl, raised her eyebrows, and said, “I’d say your suspect’s been here more than once. What is this, his apartment?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Carl muttered. “I had to be sure.”

Esme shrugged. She didn’t mind being tested, as long as this meant he’d trust her findings in the end.

“Look, while we’re here, I’ve got a warrant to search the place,” Carl went on. “Do you mind if I take a few minutes here?”

“Not a problem,” she said, and minutes later she and Tangent were upstairs in Mick’s apartment, standing just inside the door while Carl, having finished with this level, searched the rooms upstairs.

She glanced across the elegant loft, its neatness somewhat marred by the exuberant piles of food on the kitchen counters and the table. So human. But she could smell bagged blood somewhere behind the decorative glassware – Mick had a hidden fridge, of course. She hoped, listening to Carl rummage about upstairs, that all evidence of his vampire existence was well hidden.

Hidden, at least, from human senses. For Esme, it was everywhere. So much had happened in this room, so recently. So much emotion. So much pain. Esme closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be overwhelmed by painful memories, but she did want, rather desperately, to know more about Mick St. John. Slowly she walked to the window, and reached out to touch the glass. Deliberately she touched Mick’s memories as well. His voice echoed in her mind, Beth, I wanted to die. I came within a heartbeat of killing my own sister. And she saw it, felt it, that long-ago moment . . . Mick, newly turned, staring through a window at the girl on the other side . . . the glass smashing, the girl falling beneath him, his fangs tearing into her throat . . . a flash of silver in the lamplight, a fleur-de-lis cross on a chain, dangling before his eyes . . .

Esme jerked her hand away from the window and took a step back, shocked. No memory had ever been so strong before, not even for her. Voices still filled her mind . . . the blond reporter, Beth, saying But you didn’t. You didn’t kill her, and Mick’s reply, No. But there were others. Some were just as young and innocent as she was. Esme took another step back, and closed herself off from it. How could she see so much, feel so much? How had she become so closely attuned to Mick? She hardly knew him. But she had been drawn to him, that night, and she’d let it happen. After all the long years of isolation, she’d finally let someone in.

She reached for Tangent, clinging to him. She'd been isolated for so long, never daring to get close to anyone for fear of getting them killed. Thank God her sire had never realized what her animals meant to her, or he would have killed them too -- just as he’d destroyed everything else, everyone she’d ever loved. He’d never grown tired of tormenting her.

But her sire was dead now. He’d been gone for years. She was free of him. Safe. Yet somehow, she’d never quite believed it, and she’d still kept herself closed off from everyone. Until Mick St. John had walked up to her. Until he’d spoken her name.

Shaking, Esme walked to the couch, seated herself on it, and breathed in.

Rosie’s still alive, isn’t she? Beth’s voice.

Yes.

Where is she?

San Francisco.

Will you ever go to see her?

No. That image in my mind . . . what I did to her . . . I can’t, Beth. I can’t.


The cold of loss, slowly overcome by the warmth of love. Beth’s embrace, her heartbeat, her hands stroking Mick’s hair. I can feel it, Esme thought. I can feel her, healing him. A flare of longing touched her, as she felt this woman’s closeness to Mick. Will I ever have that? Anything like that?

Carl had said that his suspect was out of town. In San Francisco. Esme lifted her head, smiling with the sudden realization of just why Mick had gone there. He’s gone to see his sister after all. How long had it been since he’d seen her, fifty years? She couldn’t imagine how he would be able to explain everything. But at least he has a chance to. If only I did. The old deep sadness slipped over her again, the pain she tried so hard to keep from her mind. She’d had a sister once, too.

“Good Lord. You don’t see something like that every day.” It was Carl’s voice. Esme pushed away the memories and ran upstairs to join him, unable to bear the emotions downstairs for even a moment longer.

“See what?” she asked, meeting him in the hall.

“Have a look.” He pointed into a small room with a freezer in the center, and Esme’s eyes widened.

“A . . . freezer,” she murmured, trying to sound noncommittal.

“Yeah. I mean, who in the world keeps their bed by the front door, and their frozen food upstairs? Could he even find a place for the freezer that’s any farther from the kitchen?”

Thank God Mick is human right now. The freezer held food, a commonplace assortment that included frozen baby peas and fudge-ripple ice cream. It was far more normal than an empty freezer, even if it was a long way from the kitchen. “Well,” Esme said reasonably, “the kitchen is awfully small. I suppose there wasn’t any place to put it down there.”

She stepped back into the hall and glanced across at another room. Her breath caught, and she froze, staring.

“Well, that’s it,” Carl said. “Sorry for the extra stop. We’ll head out now.”

“Okay,” Esme said, fighting to keep her voice calm. He started down the stairs, and in that instant, she darted to the roof door and unlocked it. She was back behind Carl on the stairs before he noticed she was gone. Apparently nothing in that room had attracted Carl’s attention - why would it, after all? But Esme couldn’t stop thinking of what she’d seen. She longed to go back immediately, to look more closely. But she had another task to do first.












The Hollenback Bar was empty, abandoned, a desolate landscape of overturned tables, smashed bottles, and broken windows. Esme motioned discreetly to Tangent, and the dog walked beside her, nosing intently at everything in his path and casting an occasional puzzled glance over his shoulder. Mick the vampire had definitely been here, and by now Tangent must recognize his scent as well as Esme did, but the dog followed her signal, and stayed silent. Esme was buffeted by images of violence, sounds of gunfire; she saw Mick walking implacably through the chaos, ignoring every bullet that hit him. There were witnesses everywhere, but he didn’t seem to care; he let them all see his eyes, his fangs, and he paid no attention to their reactions.

“In here,” Carl said, directing them to a back room. The door lay in shattered pieces on the floor, and an overturned desk was heavy with Mick’s vampire scent, and the smell of blood. It had happened here.

Blood is vengeance. Mick’s every move spoke of a vampire protecting his own. Had this Tejada endangered Beth? Esme remembered the flash of vision she’d had, Mick throwing Beth to the ground, out of the path of a bullet. Oh, yes. Tejada had nearly killed the woman Mick loved. Mick had been cold as ice, passing through this room, and Tejada had never had a chance.

If only I could have protected my own, the way Mick did. But Esme had been up against her sire, her blood brothers. They’d been so much stronger than her, and they’d been even more vile than Tejada.

Come here, her sire had said, the very night he’d turned her. He’d led her to her own home, where her family slept peacefully in their beds. All you need is here. All you hunger for. Had there ever been any hope, for her?

“Nothing?” Carl said.

Esme shook her head, as Tangent sniffed the desk and wandered on across the room, silent.

“Well then,” Carl said. “I guess I was wrong all along.” He suddenly looked much happier, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and Esme felt herself warm to him. He hadn’t wanted to go after Mick, but he’d felt obligated to do so. Esme had freed him, it seemed, from a task he’d never wanted to do.

As Carl drove her home, he spent the entire time talking about Christa, and how excited she’d be to hear this news. “She’s gotten a great job offer in San Diego, but she’s been holding off, since I thought I’d be tied down here,” he said. “But now . . . everything’s different. We’ll see what happens.” Once he’d dropped her off at her rental, Esme waited, restless, until night fell. Then she called a cab and returned, alone, to the apartment across from Pershing Square.











She climbed up the outside of the building, this time, and slipped into Mick’s loft through the door she’d left unlocked. It would be easy enough for her to break down a door, but she hardly wanted to damage Mick’s home. She closed the door behind her, slipped through the hall, and stood in the doorway of the room across from the freezer. After a moment, she stepped inside.

This room was full of storage – boxes, cartons, a footlocker with Mick St. John stenciled across its side. On top of one of the boxes lay a stack of musical scores. Esme lifted the top one, her hands trembling. There was a note written on the cover, Mick, give this one a try, you’ll like it, and she knew the handwriting as well as she knew her own. She sat down abruptly, clutching the music. There were no memories clinging to it, no images bursting into her head. Thank God. She couldn’t have borne it, if there had been.

A door opened somewhere below her, and voices drifted up as two humans entered the apartment. Mick and Beth. There was a quiet thump as something was set on the floor, a soft jangle of strings within a case. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll go make a copy for you,” Mick said. “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got food, too. Believe it or not.”

“I see that,” Beth said, with a smile in her voice.

Footsteps sounded below, as Beth moved away from the door and Mick quickly entered his office. Esme crept to the head of the stairs and looked down. Beth was standing by Mick’s bed. She leaned over to smooth the quilt, her face wistful, and settled herself on the comforter, putting her bag at her feet. She rummaged in her bag, found an envelope, and slipped a printed photograph out of it. Esme could see the picture: in it Mick was standing with his arm around an elderly woman, looking down at her with a wondering smile on his face. While Esme was staring at the photograph, Mick came back into the room. He hesitated, taking in the sight of Beth on his bed, then sat beside her and handed her another picture. Beth held them side by side. The second photograph showed Mick with a dark-haired girl in a lavender dress, in the same pose. That’s Rosie, Esme realized. Mick’s sister. Now, and in the past. After a long moment, Beth tucked both pictures into the envelope, put the envelope in her bag, and got up. “I have to go,” she said gently.

“I know.” Mick’s voice was low, subdued.

“I just need to take some time alone. For Josh. And for me. To – sort things out.”

She started for the door, and Mick got up and walked with her. “I never thought I’d see Rose again,” he said, putting his hand on the door handle. “I wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for you.”

“I didn’t want you to lose her,” Beth said. “Not forever.” Awkwardly she reached out to hug him, and Mick pulled her into his arms. He clung to her almost desperately, but he managed to let go when she did. He even managed to smile at her as he opened the door, as she walked away from him. When she was gone he shut the door and locked it, and stood leaning against it with his eyes closed. After a moment he rubbed his hand across his face, picked up the luggage he’d left on the floor, and walked toward the stairs.

Esme faded back quietly, pausing only to set the sheet music back in place on top of the box in the storeroom. Memories were flooding over her; ideas and questions were forming in her mind. Tyler had shown her a ring once, very long ago -- an ornate ring with a jeweled cross. He’d written to her often about his best friend, referring to him, always, as M. Who took revenge for Tyler? Who freed me? She was starting to think she might know.

The stairs creaked faintly. Esme hesitated. She wanted to talk to Mick, to find out if her guesses were true, but she was too open now, too vulnerable; she didn’t know how to close herself off from him. And Mick’s passionate feelings – his love and regret, his hopes and fears – they would overwhelm her completely, if she stood where she was for even a second longer.

She was out the roof door, and had it locked behind her, before Mick reached the top of the stairs.












Mick paused at the storeroom door, wondering what seemed different. Everything in the apartment seemed off, shifted and changed. It must feel that way because I’ve changed, he thought. He was so different now, and his whole world felt different too. Being human had brought back his old wartime nightmares and flashbacks – and it had also brought back his memories of Rosie.

Long summer days at the beach, her tearful goodbye when he’d left for the war, the letter she’d written about Sam. Coming home to find her waiting at the train station, waking from nightmares to find her by his side. Her happiness at his wedding, her despair when he’d disappeared. The night he’d stood at her window, just before he’d attacked her. I swore to never go near her again. But Beth had talked him into going back to see her after all, more than fifty years later. It hadn’t been easy, and many things had gone wrong, but Rose was part of his life again. She knew about the vampire, and she still accepted him. She knew what he’d done to her, and she’d forgiven him. Even though I haven’t forgiven myself. He still didn’t know if he’d be able to bring himself to see her again, once he turned back into a vampire. Only his newfound humanity had given him the courage to go to her. Thoughtfully he set down his guitar, leaning the case against his old footlocker. Rose had kept his guitar safe for all these years. Would he ever play it again? He wasn’t sure about that, either.

He left his suitcase on the floor to unpack later, showered, and went back downstairs, bone tired and aching, to collapse into bed. It felt good, so good, to lie down on a soft mattress and pull the blankets over himself. In that blissful moment, he thought of Beth. He knew she needed time to mourn. She’d cared deeply about Josh, and he had loved her enough to want to marry her.

Mick was sure that she’d come back to him, though, that someday soon he’d hear her voice on the phone. And then I’ll take her to the beach. I’ll cook dinner for her. And one day, maybe –

He sighed and rolled over in bed. It wasn’t a very big bed, but it would be big enough for two. Was it possible, was there any way? Could it possibly happen that he and Beth might go to bed together, and make love, while he was still human? He longed for it, and hardly dared to hope. Touching Beth was so different now, so completely overwhelming. He had always wanted her, but never so much as he did now. And he hadn’t even been able to kiss her yet. Damn. It’s still complicated. Beth needed time, she needed to heal. He would have to be careful not to push her into anything, in his fear of changing back.

His human body, exhausted by the last few days, fell into sleep, and for once, his vivid human dreams were good ones. Beth ran on the beach with her dark-haired little boy, but this time Mick was with her, in the sun. When the boy fell asleep on a blanket in the sand, Beth snuggled closer to Mick and kissed him, and just kissing her as a human was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. Every touch of her hands brought his body to life, and he urgently pushed her back on the sand, leaning over to touch her in turn. She smiled up at him, her eyes bright, and a door slammed.

Mick jerked awake with a start, sitting upright in bed, and saw Josef standing over him, staring down at him and shaking his head in disbelief.












“Who else knows about this?” Josef asked. He sat in one of Mick’s chairs, oddly tense, his body rigid. He was dressed impeccably, as usual, in a fine silk shirt and a tailored suit.

“Well, Beth,” Mick said, handing him a drink and then settling himself on the couch. He wasn’t about to mention Rose, not yet. Maybe not ever. He felt muzzy from sleep, and in contrast to Josef, he was distinctly rumpled in an old T-shirt and pajama pants. Not the way he’d planned to present his human self to Josef.

“I mean vampires,” Josef said.

“You. Elaine, Logan, Guillermo . . .”

“Guillermo knows?”

Mick shrugged. “I gave him a call to cancel my blood orders. He says nobody else around here drinks A-positive.”

“Right. Who else?”

“Coraline, of course. And -- ”

“What do you mean, of course? Did she do this to you?”

“She gave me the cure, yes,” Mick said stiffly. “And just what exactly do you know about it, anyway? You told me it didn’t exist.”

“Of course I told you it didn’t exist. It isn’t even real, it won’t last – you know that, right? - but you would have gone after it anyway. I didn’t want you getting yourself killed, all right? Do you even know how dangerous this is?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This cure belongs to a certain vampire family. A very powerful family, one you don’t cross, and they keep quiet about this stuff. They don’t want it advertised, they don’t want it imitated. I’ve heard stories about other vamps using it, and these vamps have always ended up dead.” Josef tossed back his drink and got up to refill his glass. “Do you think I wanted that to happen to you? If that really was Coraline as a human, I figured she’d get herself killed at any moment. When she vanished, that's what I thought had happened. I was just glad she hadn’t taken you down with her. But now . . .”

Mick frowned, fitting this in with what Coraline and Lance had said. “This powerful family,” he said. “Is Lance part of it?”

“Yeah. That’s why I told you to stay away from him. And he may have his eye on you right now. Mick, you’re gonna have to disappear. Fast.”

Mick shook his head. “I don’t think so. Lance – he called Coraline his sister.”

Josef almost dropped his re-filled glass. “When he came to your place looking for her?”

“When he found us. Right after she gave me the cure.”

When he found you? Christ, Mick! And you’re still alive?” Josef collapsed in his chair, looking numb. “You’re telling me that Coraline is part of this family? That she had permission to use this stuff?”

“She’s part of the family,” Mick said. And so am I. Lance’s ironic words, Welcome to the family, were imprinted in his mind. “She didn’t have permission.”

“Which means you don’t either.” Josef’s voice was still frozen, and he was looking, uncertainly, at the bruises on Mick’s face.

“Lance was going to kill me,” Mick said. Had Coraline known how much danger she was putting him in, by giving him the cure? Maybe . . . but he didn’t think so. Not when she’d saved him, in the end, by sacrificing herself. “He would have, except for Coraline. She gave herself up to him. On the condition that he had to leave me alone. He staked her, and took her away. Josef . . . what do you think will happen to her?”

Josef shook his head slowly, looking baffled. “Mick, I don’t know. Since Lance didn’t kill her on the spot, I suppose they’ll let her live. Especially with her being family. Lance probably took her back to Europe, but – since when do you care, anyway?”

“Can you find out where she is? What’s happening to her?” Mick asked intently.

There was a long silence. “Maybe,” Josef said at last. “If you promise not to get involved. A human wouldn’t last five seconds trying to spy on that family.”

Mick frowned thoughtfully. “What makes them so powerful, anyway? Lance healed when he was burned, and --" How had he not realized it, the moment Lance had called Coraline sister? “And that’s how Coraline survived the fire. Isn’t it.”

Josef looked grim. “If she really is part of that family – I guess so.”

“Does that mean I’m immune to fire?”

“You sure as hell aren’t as a human. And goddamnit, Mick, if you try testing that out when you turn back -- ”

“I’m not gonna test it. Believe me.”

“Are you going to go haring off to Europe? Because if you are, I won’t help you.”

Mick pushed a hand through his hair, trying to think. Josef was right. There was nothing he could do as a human. There probably wasn’t anything he could do as a vampire, either. Josef’s contacts and connections were his best hope. “I won’t do anything like that as a human, that’s for sure,” he said reluctantly. He didn’t like standing back, waiting for others to do things for him, but there didn’t seem to be any choice. And Coraline had been taken by her family, after all. Surely her punishment would not be all that harsh? But the fear he’d seen in her eyes still disturbed him, deeply.

“Then I’ll see what I can find out. And you be careful. You don’t want to give Lance a reason to change his mind. So don’t let any other vampires find out. Tell Elaine and Logan to keep quiet. I’ll talk to Guillermo; I’m meeting him today anyway.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t do anything stupid, all right? You’re human now, God help us all. You can’t go around getting shot any more. And please remember not to jump off buildings. Stay out of traffic, too. Don’t get hit by a bus.”

Mick couldn’t help laughing. “Is that all, Dad?”

“Don’t call me that. Not unless you want me to turn you back.”

“No way will that ever happen, Josef. You’d better get used to me as a human, because I’m staying this way for as long as I possibly can.”

“Then you do know it’s temporary.”

“I know.”

“Okay then.” Josef settled back in his chair, took a satisfied swallow from his glass, and eyed Mick up and down. All the tension had left his body, all the fear, and he was now completely relaxed. “Hell, this is amazing, you know that? I mean, here you are. You’ve got what you’ve always wanted. I admit I don’t know why you wanted this, but, well – congratulations.” He lifted his glass. “Here’s to my new favorite human.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Mick said, and smiled.












It was almost dawn when Josef left, but Mick crawled back into bed for a few more hours of sleep. When he woke again it was full day, and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. He got up, wonderfully refreshed, and fixed himself eggs and orange juice for breakfast. It felt good to have things settled with Josef, to know why his friend had lied to him. Josef was certainly shocked that Mick was human, and he wasn’t really happy about it . . . but he was okay with it, and that was what mattered.

Lingering over a pot of coffee, he wondered what to do with his day. He’d been wondering what to do with all his human days, actually. Was it time for a long vacation? He didn’t have any cases, except for the Gregory Foster case, and that one didn’t really count. And he was a little nervous about taking on a case as a human. Would he still be able to do a good job? He’d always relied on vampire skills and senses in his work, and he’d never had to be particularly concerned about whether anyone might be shooting at him. It was bound to be completely different as a human. I should ask Beth what she thinks, he thought wistfully, wishing that he could. But he wasn’t going to contact her; he was going to wait until she called him. Whenever that might be.

He went into his office, glanced at the file on Gregory Foster – fifty years stale, it can wait – and unlocked his desk drawer. He took out the envelope with the photographs of Rosie that he’d shown Beth, and set it aside. Further down, under a pile of albums, was a file folder.

He’d started this file shortly after he’d become a P.I., and it had taken him years to put it all together. He opened it, and looked at the pictures on top. One was of Rosie, nine months pregnant; the other was of the baby she’d given up for adoption. Mick had always known that Rosie had gotten pregnant shortly after he’d disappeared, that she’d given up the baby when it was born. He hadn’t known, till he’d gone to see her, how much she regretted losing her child.

He set the photographs aside and moved on through the file. Rose’s daughter, Rosemary, was in her fifties now, with grown children of her own. Mick had gone to see them every few years, to watch them from a distance . . . his niece and her children, the far-distant family he would never even meet. Would Rose contact them, now that she knew how to find them? After more than fifty years? Well, I went to see her. Maybe he could give her a little encouragement. He copied the top two photos, wrote a quick note to accompany them, and put the originals in an envelope, addressing it to Rose.

He spent the rest of the day on the move . . . mailing his letter, wandering the city streets, spending some time in a trendy new gym. He found an old-fashioned candy store, and happily bought enough colorful treats to fill several of his big glass bottles. Of course they might not last very long as decorations -- he’d picked out candies that reminded him of his old favorites, back when he was a kid. Next he went shopping for guitar strings, just in case he ever decided to try playing again. When he got home he painstakingly restrung the guitar and tuned it, but then put it back in its case. Not yet.

Restless, he went to his computer and checked his email, even though he was certainly not expecting to hear from Beth yet. Nothing. Had he missed any calls while he was out? He had only one message, and it was, disturbingly, from the Cleaners. He felt himself go cold. Oh God, he couldn’t disappear into a new life, not now . . . Mick sat frozen for a moment, then braced himself and played back the message. Lieutenant Carl Davis was compiling evidence against you, but has abruptly dropped your case and is resigning from the department. We don’t know why; this was not our doing. Only one witness has come forward, and her testimony on a certain detail has so far been disregarded. Containment cannot be achieved, but at this time it appears that other measures will not be necessary. Mick, astonished, played the message again. Carl was dropping the case entirely? Leaving the force? Mick couldn’t imagine why, but . . . could things get any better for him than this?

The phone in his hand abruptly rang, and Beth’s name showed up on the screen. He was so startled he almost dropped the phone, and it rang a second time before he managed to answer.

“Beth?”

“Hi.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to call yet.”

“I wasn’t expecting to call this soon, either.” Her voice was hesitant. “I spent most of the day going through old memories. Times with Josh. I’m still grieving, and I know I said I needed time, but – I just can’t stop thinking about you being human. About how it’s not going to last.”

“Beth . . . you can take all the time you need. It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does. I know it does. It matters to me, too. I don’t want to miss this. I want to share this time with you. I feel like – like I’ve been waiting for you, all of my life. And I just can’t wait any longer.”

“Beth, are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She sounded much more confident now, very much like her old self. “So. Have you been to the beach yet? I know you wanted to go.”

“No, I – I was waiting on that.”

“Then how about if you meet me tomorrow at Paradise Cove? At noon, on the beach north of the pier. I’ll bring a picnic.”

“That sounds – amazing. Okay. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll see you.” She hesitated, then said simply, “Good night, Mick.”

“Good night.”

Mick sat utterly still for a long time after she hung up, absorbing that conversation. I’ve been waiting for you all of my life. And I just can’t wait any longer. Beth’s words echoed his own thoughts, but he’d never dared to say them out loud. He’d never expected her to say them out loud, either. But she had.

That night as he got ready for bed, he thought of Beth, who would be climbing into bed at the very same time he was. It was astonishing how wonderful it felt just to be on her schedule . . . for the first time ever. He sat on the edge of the bed, carefully placing his ring and necklace on the bedside table. Let’s hope I can figure out how to set the alarm. Tomorrow was one day he definitely didn’t want to sleep through.

Lights out, Mick settled into the bed, sighing with pleasure at the soft warmth of pillows and blankets, at the comfort of Beth’s words. He didn’t need to dream about her, tonight. Tomorrow, he’d be with her, and he’d be as human as she was. That eternal wall between them was gone, fallen into ruin in the sunlight.

It would be back, one day far too soon, casting its shadow back over him.

But for now, he would walk in the sun.














The events in the background of this story, starting with the earthquake, appear in "Rose and Thorn" and "The Other Side of the Mirror."
They're here . . . Shadow's Office



-
Last edited by Shadow on Wed Mar 02, 2011 11:00 pm, edited 5 times in total.
User avatar
francis
100% Moonlightaholic
Posts: 11556
Joined: Sat Jan 17, 2009 9:45 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by francis »

Thank you soooo much! The first scenes of episode 13 were so jumbled, so short, only giving us a glimpse of Mick as a human. There must have been so much more, and you expanded on it.
“Last night, huh?” Had Mick gone after a few leftover gang members, and been taken by surprise? “Who was it?”

“Relatives,” Mick said shortly.

“Whose relatives?” Carl asked, thinking of Tejada.

Mick smiled ruefully. “Mine.”
This made me laugh. Relatives can be worse than enemies, but this is a special case.

So much going on here. I love how you describe the difference between human and vampire through Mick’s eyes. How he marvels at food, the sun, the touch, the taste, his new/old limitations of smell and speed, and the way he now remembers and dreams.
I love how Elaine reacted, and Logan. Poor Elaine is going to have some shock when she gets that laptop back.
Carl is on to Mick being a vigilante, that’s bad enough without adding “vampire”. Now he has a witness who can identify Mick. I’m worried, especially with the idea of using the dog. But I guess human Mick and vamp Mick smell very differently.
Mick has a breakdown at the site of the earthquake, remembering what he experienced in the war? That’s something that he wouldn’t have had when he was a vampire, right?
I love how you include Esme’s story here. I’ve read this one somewhere, but it’s not posted here, right? I love Esme’s character. The way Mick’s story affects her, makes her question her own life.

How did Carl get a hold of Mick’s shirt and Mick’s apartment without a warrant? That certainly won’t hold in court. Does this happen while Mick is at Elaine’s? How did Carl get in, and how did he get permission, and what would he have done if Mick was home?

I love that Esme has such a great control over her dog that she can tell him when to bark and when not. It’s really her that’s doing the sniffing, right?

I love that you include your story about Rosie, too. Things go full circle.

Of course Josef wouldn’t be pleased about finding Mick human, and the fact that Mick was so open about it. It makes sense that Mick would ask Josef to find Coraline, and wouldn’t get involved himself as it was dangerous for a vampire, much more for a human.

I love that they talked about Josef turning him back already. Great foreshadowing.
And the Cleaners had an eye on Carl all the time, that’s making sense but it’s scary.

You end it with Mick and Beth making a date for a beach picnic. Perfect!
:happysigh: :heart: :flowers:
User avatar
susieb
Logan's WoW nemesis
Posts: 534
Joined: Thu Mar 04, 2010 8:52 pm
Location: Right here feeding my inner vampire

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by susieb »

I'm cheating. This morning when, like Christa, something woke me and I couldn't get back to sleep, I'd thought I would catch up with your In Betweens. Then I saw you'd posted a new one. I couldn't resist.

This one is so rich! :hearts: Just a few quick comments. I really loved that you made Carl generous in his thoughts about Beth (at the funeral thinking about Josh/Beth/Mick) and in not actually wanting to nail Mick for Tejada's murder. Very much appreciated Carl's observations about Mick's human state. So helpful in fleshing out how Mick would have been.

Really liked the character Esme. Very, very interesting! Again, another viewpoint of Mick that adds so much. When reading the part about Elaine, I did feel like I really should have continued the In Betweens in order... :blushing:

The show missed a real opportunity in not doing more with Mick as a human, imho. When I realized a week had gone before the beach scene... I was so disappointed. Couldn't help but wonder what had happened with Mick during that period. :witsend: You have so wondrously provided the details! :clapping:
Susie

Image
Sometimes the past doesn't catch up with you, it haunts you.
User avatar
aolver
Rogue vampire
Posts: 1032
Joined: Sat Mar 21, 2009 4:33 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by aolver »

:flowers: I love this story Shadow. Thank you so much for a wonderful chapter. :hearts: :rose:
Image
Beautiful banner and avatar by Skylar
User avatar
allegrita
Moonlightaholic Admin
Posts: 45960
Joined: Sat Jan 17, 2009 9:22 am
Location: Snuggled under the brown afghan, watching the fire

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by allegrita »

Ohhhhhh, what a wonderful, wonderful week. :hearts: I adore how you've pulled in Esme's story, and that you've given her a connection to Mick so that she is beginning to find out that she may be even more closely connected to him than she thought.

I love that Mick has found Rosie again, and given her back the chance to find her own long-lost daughter. And I love so much the way that Mick and Josef talked about his temporary humanity, and about Coraline and Lance. It makes so much more sense this way, that Mick doesn't pursue Coraline. He's leaving it in Josef's hands. And I hope that you will give us some answers about what happened to her, too, in future chapters.

Thank you for clearing up the questions about Carl's investigation, too! Putting Esme into this story makes perfect sense. Carl can now leave LA (and he did leave the show, so thanks for giving us a reason for his departure!) with a clean conscience, and Mick will be freed from the scrutiny that would force him to leave unwillingly.

But more than the logistical things, which you did so beautifully, thank you for giving us a peek into Mick's week as a human. It was so wonderful to feel his joy in discovering the joys of food and coffee, his love of the sun, the comfort he found in his sheets and blankets and comfy pillows. (And telling us how the candy got into the jars, too!) Thank you for showing us how different it feels to be human. And thanks also for the peeks into his vampire friends' reactions to his new reality. They are wonderful. Especially Logan's. :laugh:

And speaking of Logan... you've introduced a new wrinkle into the story of Elaine. What else is in that laptop? And poor Elaine, she's been through so much, and now she'll have even more pain to deal with. I feel so sorry for her. But as Mick said, that's a couple of weeks away... and by then, Mick will be a vampire again. :Mickangel:
Image
jen
Cleaner
Posts: 6411
Joined: Mon Apr 20, 2009 12:11 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by jen »

Shadow

This is amazing!!!!

Of course, I loved Mick's remarks to Josh about the fight involving a meeting with his relatives. Ah, family squabbles. I believe we would have seen this thoughtfulness from Carl had we gotten a second season. Carl's instincts are keen, accurate and very dangerous to all concerned.

Mick's delight in his temporry humanity is charming. It is nice to see characters we like achieve their dreams. He even revels in the unpleasant aspects of his mortality like the pain from his injuries and getting drunk at Elaine's house. The little scene with Mick and Carl at the cafe after the funeral was charming. Mick was just enjoying his humanity while Carl was pressing for details and reading Mick's body language.

Of course, Esme and Elaine are a part of this story and add wonderful richness to this chapter.

And Mick called Josef 'Dad' before his friend turned him back to save Beth. Delicious foreshadowing of what is to come.

Thank you for this fabulous chapter! You are amazing!

Jenna

:hearts: :flowers: :hearts: :flowers:
Mick and Beth--two of the lovely faces of Moonlight
Image
Beautiful banner by the Fabulous Phoenix
User avatar
wpgrace
100% Moonlightaholic
Posts: 16429
Joined: Sat Jan 17, 2009 2:25 pm

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by wpgrace »

Oh BRILLIANT!!!! Not only have you given us a marvelous and desperately needed insight into Mick's week as a human, you have ever so perfectly interwoven that week into your other stories... which I LOVE... and thus given us even more of his back story!!! :clapping: :clapping: :clapping:

So Esme, who we cannot help but adore (and her little dog too :devil: ), whose whole story I JUST LOVE, not only saved Mick's bacon from good ol' Carl, but is connected with Tyler and the sire. That is just the BOMB, honey. That is a beautiful beautiful plot overlap. :happysigh: :happysigh: :happysigh: Plus you explained Carl's disappearance. You are SO cleaning up the sloppy bits, Girlfriend. :cloud9:

This entire series just gets better and better... I now look at where we are... and I know the ending will come in just a few more chapters... but I am going to enjoy every single word! :notworthy: :notworthy: :notworthy:
Image
Banner by redwinter101. I miss you, Beloved.
Awesome avatar by the awesome, clever, and gracious Lilly.

If you read a lot of books you are considered well read. But if you watch a lot of TV, you're not considered well viewed. Lilly Tomlin

Grateful to Alex for Mick, Andy, and McG. :)
User avatar
Cleo28
Fledgling
Posts: 269
Joined: Sat Apr 10, 2010 9:43 pm
Location: Germany

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by Cleo28 »

Shadow, a new chapter... YEAH... :hug: :hyper2: :yahoo:
It´s amazing. I love your "in betweens". It was great to learn about how would Carl question about what happend to Tejada. It was sure there would be questions. And the explanation why Carl disappeared was so great.

I can´t wait for the next chapter.
User avatar
Shadow
Courtesan
Posts: 2636
Joined: Mon Jan 19, 2009 8:09 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by Shadow »

What a wonderful comment, francis! It's true that ep. 13 didn't give us nearly enough of human Mick. I just had to create some more. I loved your observations on this story - and your questions!
francis wrote:Mick has a breakdown at the site of the earthquake, remembering what he experienced in the war? That’s something that he wouldn’t have had when he was a vampire, right?
I love how you include Esme’s story here. I’ve read this one somewhere, but it’s not posted here, right?
I was thinking about what Mick had said in B.C. about human memories fading as a vampire gets older . . . and thinking that they must have already faded quite a lot for him. I had a feeling that they'd all come back in a rush once he turned human. So he does get overcome here by a flashback from the war, which I don't think would possibly have happened if he'd still been a vampire. And that's also why his memories of Rosie were suddenly so strong. I'm so glad you liked having Esme's story put into this! The only place she has appeared before is the second part of "Rose and Thorn", and it's posted here.
francis wrote:How did Carl get a hold of Mick’s shirt and Mick’s apartment without a warrant? That certainly won’t hold in court. Does this happen while Mick is at Elaine’s? How did Carl get in, and how did he get permission, and what would he have done if Mick was home?
In the show Mick took his bloodstained (by Coraline's blood sample) shirt along to Griffith Park, and then we never saw it again. My explanation is that Carl picked it up there - he would have known it was Mick's, because Mick had it with him when he and Carl were together in Beth's apartment. And you're totally right that nothing about the shirt or the dog would have held up in court! Carl was using that purely for his own information, to decide whether to pursue the case at all. Carl did get a proper warrant for searching Mick's apartment, though he picked a time to go there when he knew Mick was out of town in San Francisco. (If he'd thought Mick might be home I'm sure he would have come to do the search in a more "official" way, without Esme and with some appropriate backup. ;) )
francis wrote:love that Esme has such a great control over her dog that she can tell him when to bark and when not. It’s really her that’s doing the sniffing, right?
Sure is. The dog just keeps her from having to explain her vamp abilities.

I'm really glad you picked out the bit about Mick's relatives . . . :snicker: . . . this is indeed a special case!
Thanks so much, francis.
User avatar
Shadow
Courtesan
Posts: 2636
Joined: Mon Jan 19, 2009 8:09 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by Shadow »

susieb wrote:I'm cheating. This morning when, like Christa, something woke me and I couldn't get back to sleep, I'd thought I would catch up with your In Betweens. Then I saw you'd posted a new one. I couldn't resist.

This one is so rich! :hearts: Just a few quick comments. I really loved that you made Carl generous in his thoughts about Beth (at the funeral thinking about Josh/Beth/Mick) and in not actually wanting to nail Mick for Tejada's murder. Very much appreciated Carl's observations about Mick's human state. So helpful in fleshing out how Mick would have been.

Really liked the character Esme. Very, very interesting! Again, another viewpoint of Mick that adds so much. When reading the part about Elaine, I did feel like I really should have continued the In Betweens in order... :blushing:

The show missed a real opportunity in not doing more with Mick as a human, imho. When I realized a week had gone before the beach scene... I was so disappointed. Couldn't help but wonder what had happened with Mick during that period. :witsend: You have so wondrously provided the details! :clapping:
Hi Susie, how great that you were coming back for some In Betweens! I'm glad you couldn't resist this one! Although I guess (oops) you did indeed get a few spoilers on Elaine's story in here . . . still, there's lots more to find out, and I think you already knew who turned her anyway . . . ;)

And it's so great that you like Esme . . . I'm also really glad that her viewpoint of Mick, and Carl's, could add some insight.

Oh, and I totally agree that the show lost a real opportunity in not doing more with human Mick. First skipping that first week, and then having Mick turn back so soon. I wasn't at all ready for him to turn back. I saw FTP the first time at the Paley event, and everyone else was cheering when he turned back, but I was thinking no no no not yet! (But it could have been far worse . . . I got hold of an early script of the Mortal Cure, and in it the cure wore off at the end of the episode while Mick was still at the funeral. I'm extremely glad they didn't stick with that schedule.)
User avatar
Shadow
Courtesan
Posts: 2636
Joined: Mon Jan 19, 2009 8:09 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by Shadow »

aolver wrote::flowers: I love this story Shadow. Thank you so much for a wonderful chapter. :hearts: :rose:
Thanks aolver! How great to get your comment here. I'm glad you liked this one!
User avatar
Shadow
Courtesan
Posts: 2636
Joined: Mon Jan 19, 2009 8:09 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by Shadow »

allegrita wrote:Ohhhhhh, what a wonderful, wonderful week. :hearts: I adore how you've pulled in Esme's story, and that you've given her a connection to Mick so that she is beginning to find out that she may be even more closely connected to him than she thought.

I love that Mick has found Rosie again, and given her back the chance to find her own long-lost daughter. And I love so much the way that Mick and Josef talked about his temporary humanity, and about Coraline and Lance. It makes so much more sense this way, that Mick doesn't pursue Coraline. He's leaving it in Josef's hands. And I hope that you will give us some answers about what happened to her, too, in future chapters.

Thank you for clearing up the questions about Carl's investigation, too! Putting Esme into this story makes perfect sense. Carl can now leave LA (and he did leave the show, so thanks for giving us a reason for his departure!) with a clean conscience, and Mick will be freed from the scrutiny that would force him to leave unwillingly.

But more than the logistical things, which you did so beautifully, thank you for giving us a peek into Mick's week as a human. It was so wonderful to feel his joy in discovering the joys of food and coffee, his love of the sun, the comfort he found in his sheets and blankets and comfy pillows. (And telling us how the candy got into the jars, too!) Thank you for showing us how different it feels to be human. And thanks also for the peeks into his vampire friends' reactions to his new reality. They are wonderful. Especially Logan's. :laugh:

And speaking of Logan... you've introduced a new wrinkle into the story of Elaine. What else is in that laptop? And poor Elaine, she's been through so much, and now she'll have even more pain to deal with. I feel so sorry for her. But as Mick said, that's a couple of weeks away... and by then, Mick will be a vampire again. :Mickangel:
Oh, I'm really glad you liked having Esme's story in here -- and Rosie's -- I couldn't resist, as I've always rather wanted all my ML stories to fit together. And I've got some plans for Esme coming up in the next few stories. I liked the thought of Esme doing something extraordinary for Mick while he was completely unaware of it, and it gave a chance to explain Carl's departure too.

I adore Mick as a human and had a great time imagining how that would feel. And one of the things I really missed in the show was that we never got to see his vampire friends' reactions when they found out. Everyone had apparently found out about it during the week the show skipped over. I'd especially wanted to see Josef's, reaction, sigh. And it seemed like Logan's might be especially fun. :biggrin: I love that you mentioned the candy in the jars! I somehow never noticed it at all until a few days ago, while looking at some clips in the video program. (Amazing how I'm still discovering things I never saw before.) Of course I had to go back then and slip the candy into the story ....

Thank you so so much for the beautiful comment! :rose:
Last edited by Shadow on Mon Jan 17, 2011 10:12 am, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
Shadow
Courtesan
Posts: 2636
Joined: Mon Jan 19, 2009 8:09 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by Shadow »

jen wrote:
This is amazing!!!!

Of course, I loved Mick's remarks to Josh about the fight involving a meeting with his relatives. Ah, family squabbles. I believe we would have seen this thoughtfulness from Carl had we gotten a second season. Carl's instincts are keen, accurate and very dangerous to all concerned.

Mick's delight in his temporry humanity is charming. It is nice to see characters we like achieve their dreams. He even revels in the unpleasant aspects of his mortality like the pain from his injuries and getting drunk at Elaine's house. The little scene with Mick and Carl at the cafe after the funeral was charming. Mick was just enjoying his humanity while Carl was pressing for details and reading Mick's body language.

Of course, Esme and Elaine are a part of this story and add wonderful richness to this chapter.

And Mick called Josef 'Dad' before his friend turned him back to save Beth. Delicious foreshadowing of what is to come.

Thank you for this fabulous chapter! You are amazing!

Jenna
Jenna, what a delightful comment! It was quite a change to do this chapter, with Mick so happy so much of the time. Especially when the last few chapters had gotten very dark indeed. I could just imagine Mick realizing he should be concerned about Carl's investigation but being too distracted by his humanity to care. And I think you're quite right about Carl, he had good instincts and could have been very dangerous indeed. I really missed him when he disappeared from the show.

And, I'm glad you liked the little 'Dad' moment . . . :devil:
Thanks so much.
User avatar
Shadow
Courtesan
Posts: 2636
Joined: Mon Jan 19, 2009 8:09 am

Re: The People in Our Lives (In Between 12 and 13, PG)

Post by Shadow »

wpgrace wrote:Oh BRILLIANT!!!! Not only have you given us a marvelous and desperately needed insight into Mick's week as a human, you have ever so perfectly interwoven that week into your other stories... which I LOVE... and thus given us even more of his back story!!! :clapping: :clapping: :clapping:

So Esme, who we cannot help but adore (and her little dog too :devil: ), whose whole story I JUST LOVE, not only saved Mick's bacon from good ol' Carl, but is connected with Tyler and the sire. That is just the BOMB, honey. That is a beautiful beautiful plot overlap. :happysigh: :happysigh: :happysigh: Plus you explained Carl's disappearance. You are SO cleaning up the sloppy bits, Girlfriend. :cloud9:

This entire series just gets better and better... I now look at where we are... and I know the ending will come in just a few more chapters... but I am going to enjoy every single word! :notworthy: :notworthy: :notworthy:
:heart: Oh Grace, you don't know how glad I am to hear what you said about the interweaving of the stories! Whew, I was really nervous about doing it and wasn't at all sure how well it worked. But I'm sort of addicted to having those events in this episode-interval, and I wanted to have that extra depth for Mick. (Hopefully without either boring people who had read the other stories, or bewildering people who hadn't read them .... ;) )

Love what you said about the ending coming soon . . . :snicker: from here it looks really far away; I'd meant to have this series finished by the end of last year!
But either way it's such a wonderful compliment. Thanks SO much, Grace.
Post Reply

Return to “In Between”