A Safe Place - PG-13

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PNWgal
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A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by PNWgal »

I brought this one over simply because I just plain love it. I wrangled it and had a lot of eyes on it, but finally worked it out to something I was happy to post.

A/N: You'll have to excuse the timeline; this was written right after 'The Mortal Cure'...at that point, we didn't know how long Mick's humanity would last.

Anyone that knows me knows I love country music. At work, I stream a country station out of Calgary, ALTA, so I've discovered alot of cool Canadian singers. The first time I heard this song, I thought "Oh yeah - this is SO Mick." It's called "Warm, Safe Place" by Aaron Pritchett. You can check out the video for it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NwyLrz7CZX4.

Many thanks to H, SBJ and rijane for reading through (sometimes more than once!) and giving great suggestions for improvement.

Enjoy!

Usual disclaimers apply.


A SAFE PLACE



Mick stood in the shadows of the cemetery in silence. It wasn’t the sun that forced him into hiding, although it shone too brightly for a funeral. The glorious reality of his temporary humanity drove him to spend as much time outside as he possibly could, feeling the sun, feeling it warm his cold skin and thaw his soul, walking for miles along the beach, letting the surf wash over his bare feet. He rarely slept these days; there was too much life to live and so little time to live it. He ate foods he couldn’t identify or pronounce—every taste, every texture was another life he could live, another memory he could cherish and caress when the life left him and he was once again between the worlds of the living and the dead.

The reason he stood quietly in the grove of trees apart from the sparse crowd that gathered was simple—he didn’t want to be recognized. Bobby Desmond was currently being laid to rest and the Mick St. John the elderly cop had known for over 35 years hadn’t aged a day in those years. Some of the former cops that stood like statues around the casket might remember him and Mick was in no mood for unwelcome questions.

Bobby Desmond. The last of his human friends to have lost the battle with time. Well, not exactly the last, he supposed. The last of his human friends had told him a month ago to stay away from her after he’d refused to Turn her dying lover. The last of his human friends had asked him for space and was mourning her loss alone. Not that he had listened to her; he watched over her as he always had, once again slipping back into the fringes of her life. The last of his human friends wasn’t a friend at all—she was the light in the darkness of his existence and his redemption from his myriad of sins.

If you hate what you are so much, then why do you go on living?

When she’d asked him that, he was surprised she couldn’t hear the shattering of his heart, the pain was so great. He had wanted to lay the bloody jagged pieces in her small hands and tell her she was the reason. She was the reason he didn’t simply walk into the sun and let it burn him into dust. She was the compass that kept him on his path and the anchor that kept him tied to this earth. He’d done nothing but love her and she’d blamed him for not granting Josh the same chance at living he’d been given. He hoped she had begun to understand why he couldn’t take that choice away from Josh like it had been taken from him.

He wiped away the tears he didn’t realize had fallen and turned to go as Bobby was lowered to his final resting place.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Mick stepped inside his quiet apartment. It was an hour until sunset; he’d go up to the terrace and bask in it, like he had every night since he’d become human. He snagged a bottle of scotch and a glass and headed up the stairs.

The bed in the master bedroom caught his eye and he stopped to look at it before heading outside. He had bought it the morning after spending an uncomfortable first night as a human on his couch. True, he didn’t know how long he’d get to sleep in it, but he wasn’t going to deny himself any of the creature comforts of humanity. He wanted the solace of crisp cotton sheets and a downy comforter. He was human for now and humans slept in a bed. Besides, his mother would have been horrified at the thought of her son not having a bed. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, glass in one hand, bottle dangling from the fingers of the other, and let the voice of the first woman he’d ever loved wash through his mind.

A home should be a warm, safe place to be, Mick. Family, good food and good friends, the laughter of children…a soft bed and the love of a good woman. That’s what makes a home, son. That’s what I want for you someday—a home that makes my boy happy.

He had thought he’d found that love with Coraline, that he’d make his home with her. But she’d betrayed him in the worst imaginable way by turning him into a horror, a THING that craved blood to live. She didn’t just take his life, she took everything that had meant something to him. She’d taken his family, his friends, his music—she’d taken his warm, safe place and he’d been searching for it ever since.

Pushing himself from his leaning post, he headed up to the terrace. He’d watch the sun slide to its nightly death and drink a toast or ten to Bobby. A longing to share the sunset and sorrow with Beth snuck up behind him and wrapped a painful fist around his heart and squeezed tightly.

He unscrewed the cap off the bottle of Black Label and splashed two fingers in the glass. He tossed it back, hissing out a breath as the scotch burned its way down. He’d forgotten how warm and smooth good liquor was without the stain of blood attached to it. He poured another glass and raised it slightly.

Here’s to you, Bobby. The best damn cop I ever knew. Man, I’m gonna miss you.

It’d been easy to hide his true nature from Bobby; he’d blamed it jokingly on Bobby’s bad eyes when the cop would rib him about not aging. Mick downed the second glass, a sardonic grin crossing his face.

Still look like a goddamn baby, St. John. You’re making me look bad.

The third glass tried to drown out the guilt that was coating his gut at how he’d phased the old man out of his life. Chalk another loss up to Coraline and her goddamned gift. He’d told Beth once that he’d lost so many of his human friends that he should be used to it by now. He’d lied, to her and to himself. He’d never get used to losing people. Hell, he was sure he’d lost her. If he lived ten thousand years he’d never get used to that loss.

After the fifth glass, his head had started to spin. One of the downsides of being mortal; he got drunk a hell of a lot faster than he did as a vampire. He’d have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow morning, but it was just another pain he was thrilled to experience. It was so normal, so human.

As the level of the bottle dropped, the level of introspection rose. If he’d been allowed to live out his life, he probably would be lying there right next to Bobby in the ground. He probably would have married, had children, had been there to bury his parents. There would have been birthdays and graduations, weddings and the births of grandchildren. There would have been report cards and football games; church services and holidays.

There would have been no Beth.

He stood there, half-sick from the combination of scotch and sorrow swirling around in his belly. He knew deep in the remnants of his soul that if he’d been given the choice, if he’d known what was waiting for him, he’d have given up a mortal life for just five minutes with her. Everything he’d accomplished in the last 22 years, everyone he’d helped, every good deed he’d done was testament to his love for her, his desire to prove himself worthy of her. Every time he chose to be a better man was a chance to make her proud of him. And he’d destroyed it all by showing her Josh’s blood on his hands and telling her that Josh was human and he didn’t deserve the same chance at existence that Mick had been given.

I gave you a gift…the greatest gift I could give.

You really hate being a vampire, don’t you?

Don’t tell me you’re still fighting who YOU are…


The words darted in and out and merged together in his muddled brain. As the sun blazed in its death throes in preparation for the night, he dropped his head and wept over what he’d lost and what he would soon lose again.

The love of a good woman…

I just want my boy to be happy…


His mother’s words echoed in his mind as he reached for his phone. He may not be able to have all the things his mother had wanted for him, but maybe…just maybe he could salvage the love he had for a good woman—the best woman he’d ever known.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Beth curled up on her couch under a blanket and stared blankly at the laptop that rested on the coffee table. She watched herself giving her first report since Josh had died and wondered at how normal, how steady she seemed. Her hands clasped confidently around the mic in her hand, her voice strong and unwavering. People would never guess she was dying inside. The people that did know didn’t realize the real reason. The hole left behind by Josh’s death was infinitesimal compared to the chasm left by Mick’s absence. She knew he was human again and she knew he longed to share it with her. But she couldn’t see him; her guilt at the words she’d said to him that night he came to her balcony paralyzed her.

Why do you go on living? Shame won out over anger and colored her face as she remembered the way he’d stepped back and flinched as if she’d slapped him. She should have slapped him—it would have been more merciful. But the anger, the hurt had cut her to the quick. She doubted he would ever recover from her inference that the world would be a better place without him in it. The apology that lived on her tongue threatened to choke her, but every time she reached for the phone to offer it, her pride silenced it. So she mourned Josh alone, and she let Mick rejoice in the life that he’d stolen back alone.

When the phone on the small table above her head began to ring, she reached up a hand and grabbed it. Her heart stopped, then began to pound in her chest when she recognized the number. Mick.

“Hello?”

“Beth...” Her name slurred across the phone lines in a voice gravelly from fatigue and alcohol. Beth gripped the phone harder.

“Mick? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t wanna be alone anymore, Beth. Don’t wanna dream, don’t wanna hurt anymore. Tired of death…tired of losing people. Miss you…please…need you…can you…will you come over?” The shards of pain in Mick’s voice cut over the phone lines and flayed her ear; she wanted to weep. He sounded so lost, so alone—and he needed her. She threw off the blanket she had wrapped around herself and unfolded her legs from beneath her.

“Are you at home, Mick?” She slipped her feet into shoes, slid her arms into a coat. Grabbing her keys, she headed for the door.

“Home…wanna be warm and safe again…”

“I’m on the way.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The first thing that hit Beth when she engaged the locks with the fob Mick had given her months ago was the sharp smell of booze. It hung like a fog over the air.

“Mick?” He didn’t answer her and she took another hesitant step into the apartment. He had turned on the stereo and a soft song floated on the scotch-scented air. Country music, Beth thought. She wasn’t even aware Mick liked country music. The words drifted to her ears and made her catch her breath.

I feel like an old guitar
Looking for some brand new strings
Never thought I’d get this far
Without saving anything for me


She scanned the room quickly for Mick. A half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker sat on the coffee table, along with a glass with a sliver of amber liquid in the bottom. So he HAD been drinking; she’d thought he sounded drunk on the phone. Dread began to pool in her stomach when she called his name again and he didn’t answer.

“Mick? Where are you? Please answer me.”

“Beth.” His voice sounded hollow, distant. She turned the corner and found him sitting on the floor, back up against the wall. His legs were pulled up and his forearms rested wearily on his knees. Bleary and blood-shot eyes raised themselves to her face and blinked slowly.

“You came.” He was dreaming, and surely it was the softest, most beautiful dream in the world because Beth was in it and she was smiling at him. Another reason to drink expensive scotch; it brought visions of Beth to him.

Do you still have that smile for me
And could I stay here for awhile


Beth knelt down, laid a cool hand on Mick’s cheek. “Of course I came. What happened?”

“Bobby’s dead. Heart attack. They buried him today.” Mick leaned his face into her palm and she felt the stubble scratch her skin. She had met Bobby Desmond before she had known what Mick was.

“I’m so sorry, Mick. I know he was important to you.”

“He was the last one, Beth. The last human friend I had, besides—” he cut himself off, but Beth knew what he meant.

The last human friend I have, besides you. Beth felt tears prick the backs of her eyes and fought them back. What kind of friend had she been? She’d dismissed the man who had watched over her and protected her for 22 years. She had called him her guardian angel, then turned around and made light of his fate. She had been angry with him for not wishing the same fate on Josh and had cast him aside by asking him for space.

“Tired…so tired of being alone…,” he mumbled.

“Shhh, sweetheart…you’re not alone. I’m here now.” Mick closed his eyes and breathed her in. She was here, her hand like a cool balm on his heated skin. All the tired dreams, the broken promises faded into insignificance with her calm presence.

I’m looking for a warm, safe place
To feel your hand on my face


Mick opened his eyes and looked into Beth’s face, searching for the anger she carried, the hurt she had felt that he would live centuries beyond his lifespan while a good man, a more deserving man died before his time. There was nothing there but concern and caring. He sighed and Beth’s heart broke at the sadness in the sound.

I just wanna make it through the night
Lock the door and hide away


“Stay with me tonight, Beth. I don’t wanna sleep alone.” Beth looked down into Mick’s haunted eyes and knew she couldn’t leave him—knew she didn’t want to leave him.

I can finally find some peace with you

Beth stood up and offered Mick her hand. He lurched slightly on his feet and Beth slid her shoulder under his arm to help him up the stairs. He stunk of scotch and regret; he was heavy and Beth staggered under his weight as she guided him up the stairs.

“Come on, Mick. One step at a time…that’s right.” Beth helped him up the stairs, coaching him as if he were a toddler taking his first steps and stopped at the door of the master suite.

“Can you stand here for a second? I’m going to turn down the bed.”

Won’t you lay down next to me

Beth hurriedly turned down the soft white comforter and top sheet, then turned back to Mick. He put his hand up against the wall to steady himself as he swayed. He’d never been so stinking drunk in either lifetime, human or undead. Not when he was in the Army. Not when he was playing guitar in smoky dive bars. Not after he was Turned and the oceans of blood-tainted alcohol he consumed failed to dull the pain of what he’d become.

It must be the Black Label that was causing this dream of Beth before him. Beth couldn’t be here, because she was angry at him and didn’t want to see him. Beth hated him because he’d let Josh die. Beth could never want him, could never love him because soon he’d turn back to vampire and she’d be lost to him forever.

Beth helped Mick over to the bed; the bedsprings protested with a squeak when he sat down heavily. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled upwards.

“Arms up, Mick.” She wrinkled her nose as he breathed Johnny Walker into her face and gave her that crooked smile she loved so much at her grimace. She yanked the fabric up and over, fingers brushing his too-warm skin.

I can’t think this way. Her tongue darted out in determination as she tried not to drop her gaze to that magnificent bare chest.

One month. Josh has only been gone one month. It’s wrong to want Mick. She folded the shirt and breathed him in, human Mick of sweat and sorrow. She unfolded and refolded the piece of clothing so the scent of his humanity would surround her once again.

“Don’t breathe on me—you smell like a distillery.” Her fussing reminded him of his mother and he grinned in spite of himself.

“Sorry, baby,” he managed, the words slurring.

Oh who am I kidding, she ran light fingertips over his slack face. I love him. I’ve always loved him and I hurt him. God forgive me.

She made to reach down to help him out of his jeans, but thought better of it and slung his legs up onto the bed. She unlaced and tugged off his boots, then pulled the blankets over him. She couldn’t resist running gentle fingers through his tangled hair. He snuggled his head into the pillow and sighed at the sensation. His hand crept out from under the covers and grabbed hers tightly.

Come and lay down in my arms

“Lay down with me, Beth.”

“Mick…”

“Just wanna hold you. So cold, so scared…please, just wanna hold you tonight…” Mick’s words faded as the scotch began to win the battle over consciousness.

Beth hesitated. There was so much that had happened that couldn’t be undone. There were too many words that needed to be said—unspoken yet deafening in the silent room.

I’m so sorry I asked you to do something abhorrent to you. I didn’t understand.

The one thing you ever asked of me, begged of me and I couldn’t give it to you. I’m so sorry.


Beth gently pulled her hand free of Mick’s grasp and ran it over his hair again before unbuttoning her cotton blouse. She slipped it off her shoulders, letting it slide to the floor.

I hate you for destroying my innocence, for killing my guardian angel. I’ll never see you the same way.

I hate that I hurt you. If I could change it I would. I’d turn back time and give you my life if you’ll look at me again like I matter.


Her hands trembled slightly as she slipped out of her jeans.

You’re scaring me.

I’m scaring myself. I love you. Love me back. Just love me back.


Clad only in her underwear, she slid quietly under the sheets behind Mick. He turned and wrapped his arms around her, laying his head on her breast. She aligned her body with his restless form and cradled him to her. He murmured as he tossed and turned, fighting the pull of the alcohol. She rocked him, gently soothing him as they held each other.

Mick pressed his ear firmly against the creamy skin underneath his. It was warm…inviting. He used to be able to hear her heart beat across the room, used to be able to gauge the subtle changes in her heart rate when she was happy, sad, angry or upset. Yet he never understood its song better than he did at this moment as he listened to the steady thudding under his cheek.

“Your heart sounds different. Love you, Beth…love you...” Beth’s tears spilled over and she leaned down to press a kiss to Mick’s tousled and damp curls as he stretched and curled himself around her.

“Shhhh, Mick. I love you and I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please.” A shuddering sigh left his body as he slowly relaxed and let sleep claim him.

“Forgive you…” the words were whispered against her breast. “Love you, forgive you…need you. I found it, Beth…found it…”

“Found what, Mick?”

“I found my home. You’re my warm, safe place.”
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by wpgrace »

Ah this one always brings happy tears... he is so CUTE as a human here.

And after the way, as it appears, so many of us reacted to Beth in the last two of The Twelve eps, it is good to see her bend and soften to Mick in this way.

Yay for Mick in this one... sometimes being vulnerable, instead of perpetually cool, wins the day.

And I recall a conversation on another site about this needing a sequel... I am all for you writing whatever you want to write... you do just fine with no input whatsoever from me and besides, you write it/I'll read it... but this one is not one that strikes me as needing a sequel. It's pretty much perfect, just the way it is.

Just sayin'.
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by AussieJo »

Ms Pacific North West, it was an absolute delight to read this again....sigh.....
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by Fleur de Lisa »

When she’d asked him that, he was surprised she couldn’t hear the shattering of his heart, the pain was so great. He had wanted to lay the bloody jagged pieces in her small hands and tell her she was the reason.
That sentiment is so heartbreakingly beautifully. Lovely, lovely 2 sentences.

And this:
There would have been no Beth.
Loving the introspection. He needs to look deep inside himself so that he can let go and live.

Okay, had to stop the quoting, because 1. I could quote every other line, it is that good and 2. My eyes were misty.

You broke my heart and then healed it with this.
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by coco »

PNW this was lovely. Just so very lovely :D
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by redwinter101 »

I can't believe how long it's been since I read this. I remembered how much I loved it - but I had forgotten quite how much there was to love here.

Mick's joy at experiencing the tiny rituals of humanity, drowned in a sea of sorrows because he is experiencing them alone. His grief for Bobby - and for his own isolation from the possibility of openly demonstrating and sharing that grief with those who loved Bobby as he did. His regret for having to pull away from his friend.

Both Mick and Beth blaming themselves and believing the other will never be able to forgive their respective actions. It's just heartbreaking.

But the warmth and the care between them at the end - well I'm with Grace on the happy tears.

You have every right to be pleased with this one, Jen, because it is marvellous. Totally, totally wonderful.

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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by PNWgal »

I have to go back and thank coco for recommending this one - it truly is one of my favorites, even though I had to beat it into submission.

Grace...thank you. Nothing is more heartbreaking than a strong man in pain, and Mick fits the bill. I actually did try to write a sequel to this and everything I came up with just paled in comparison. This one ended the way it should - with forgiveness.

AussieJo, I'm sighing right along with you - thank you. :-)

Thank you, Lisa. Introspective Mick is something I struggle with, so I'm glad it came across as true. I'm so pleased it broke your heart...errr, that didn't sound right.... :confused2:

coco, thank you - and thank you for thinking enough of this fic to recommend it!

Red...thank you, my friend. This one didn't come together for me until I thought about all the things I wished the two of them would say to each other, but...it turned out they didn't need to say them in order to forgive each other. Mick's joy at being human and his sorrow at not being able to share it with the one he wants to the most broke my heart - and even as angry as Beth is with him, she doesn't hesitate to go to him when he needs her. To me, that's what love is. :ysmile:
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by redwinter101 »

PNWgal wrote:Nothing is more heartbreaking than a strong man in pain, and Mick fits the bill.
:yes: :yes: :yes: :yes: :yes:

You know how strongly I agree with you on that, PNW. So very, very true.

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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by coco »

PNWgal wrote:I have to go back and thank coco for recommending this one - it truly is one of my favorites, even though I had to beat it into submission.

coco, thank you - and thank you for thinking enough of this fic to recommend it!
You're welcome PNW. It has long been a favourite of mine and when it comes to M/B fics, this one has stayed with me :biggrin:
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by PNWgal »

redwinter101 wrote:
PNWgal wrote:Nothing is more heartbreaking than a strong man in pain, and Mick fits the bill.
:yes: :yes: :yes: :yes: :yes:

You know how strongly I agree with you on that, PNW. So very, very true.

Red

Oh most definitely I do, Red. You have such a FANTASTIC handle on sad and heartbroken Mick.

Dark Mick comes so much more easily to me...but I couldn't resist a Mick drowning his sorrows in good scotch.

You're welcome PNW. It has long been a favourite of mine and when it comes to M/B fics, this one has stayed with me :biggrin:
And it's deeply appreciated, coco ;-)
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by redwinter101 »

I think there was something so shattering about Beth's words, "If you hate yourself so much, why go on living" that we ALL felt as we watched. Her grief was palpable and Mick's pain was so heartbreaking. Those lines have inspired so many stories (including my first ML fic!) and they still have the power to shock on repeat viewing.

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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by PNWgal »

Oh YES, Red. No matter how many times I watch LLF, when Beth says that to Mick, the look on his face is just heart-rending. That look of blank shock, that someone he loved would say that to him...MAN.
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

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I've always loved this piece...Mick at his most human, drowning his sorrows and mourning the loss of a close friend. But in the end, he was mourning the loss of something more devastating.
The last of his human friends wasn’t a friend at all—she was the light in the darkness of his existence and his redemption from his myriad of sins.
Beth. The reason he kept on living. I'm with you and Red. The expression on Mick's face when he's asked why does he go on living is so telling. First shock, then hurt, then looking for a way to gracefully not tell the truth. To do so would have caused so much pain for a woman already grieving.

The little things about Mick and his getting drunk are what make this so appealing. He's hurt, so he drinks. Then he remembers things he'd rather forget, so he drinks some more. Then he faces the truth of his loneliness and in his drunken, lonely condition, he can finally tell Beth things he couldn't before. And her response is one of a true friend..
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by Raven »

This gem is, without a doubt, one of my top five favorite Moonlight stories. I love everything about it, the writing...superb, the emotion...real and intense, Mick's sorrow...heartwrenching. The joy of being human cannot counteract the devastation at the thought that Beth is lost to him. He is at his lowest low and his longing for his mother's comfort gives him the courage to reach out to his lifeline. And Beth needs to be needed by Mick. She responds to his despair with the maternal love he craves and the friendship and love he craves from the woman he loves more than his life.
This is a story of love and hope...and that's what reading it fills me with.
Thank you PNWgal. This story is nestled in the Moonlight section of my heart. :hug:
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librarian_7
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Re: A Safe Place - PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

I cannot really add anything coherent to the encomiums this piece has already garnered, except to say that every word of praise is deserved, and more.

This brought tears to my eyes, and I could see every fleeting expression on his face.

Lucky
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