Disclaimer : I don't own the characters featured in "Moonlight". And no, I'm not making any money out of this fanfiction, I'm just having some fun.
Author's note : This story is readable thanks to skimmboardergurl who was my beta.
2 AM
When you've been around as long as I have, you think that nothing can surprise you anymore. But that was before tonight. Before I saw her walking barefoot through a freezing fountain at 2 in the morning.
I didn't expect to see Beth Turner doing a live webcast on my computer that night.
Her thing was writing articles. Good ones at that, even if she worked for one of those sleazy news websites, Buzzwire. She was smart, incisive, and relentless. And honest. That part was important to me.
I felt misplaced pride each time I read one of her articles. Misplaced because I certainly wasn't her dad, even though I was old enough to be. Hell, I was old enough to be her grandfather come to think of it, even though I looked her age. Yeah, it was complicated, but what else is new?
So no, I wasn't responsible for her intelligence. If anything, she could have very well become an unbalanced adult because of me. Because I hadn't anticipated how far Coraline would go to get me back.
I had only heard the words "murder" and "Melrose" before I threw on some clothes and was out of the door in no time. Vampire speed does have its advantages.
I didn't want to miss this. Her first time as a reporter in front of a camera. Maybe I'd take a picture of her with my phone. The latest one I had was almost a year old; it was time to update my file.
Why did I do this sick thing that makes me seem like a stalker? I guess it was mostly egotistical. I wanted to reassure myself that she was fine, despite what had happened to her 22 years ago because of me. Sometimes when the truly horrific things I had done as a newborn vampire came back to haunt me, or when I dreamed of Coraline in the flames, I went into my office and opened up her file, looked at all the pictures of that healthy, smiling and happy-looking blond-haired girl. At least there was one good thing I had done in my life.
She was still on the crime scene when I arrived after running across L.A.
I shouldn't have been surprised that she hadn't just packed up and left after the camera stopped rolling. Having her face on screen wasn't important to her. It was having an informative article that was, I knew that much.
I didn't expect her to look this graceful as she walked across the fountain toward the dead girl's body. The lights in the area made her skin glow, and the blond halo around her face made her look like an angel. From the moment I had seen her huddled in a corner of that shack, she had always looked like an angel to me. My saving grace.
As she got close to the murdered girl, taking photos with her phone, I realized I had missed my picture of her with the microphone in her hand. Another time. I was sure she would make other live reports in the future.
Looking at Beth seeming unfazed by her close proximity to a dead and bloody body, I couldn't help but wonder at her relation to death. She often covered murders, and I knew from her articles that she went to see the bodies at the morgue. Was it normal to her? Sometimes I worried that perhaps she wasn't as balanced as I liked to think.
Something made her pause but I couldn't see what it was from where I stood, even with my very keen eyesight.
The cop shouted for her to step away from the body and she quickly did, walking out of the fountain like a ballerina, her shoes in hand.
I saw that she was heading my way, too caught up in trying to not slip, and then too busy pondering a catchy article title to notice the tall figure in the dark. She really should be more attentive to her surroundings. What if it hadn't been me but some psycho hiding around? Okay, so there was a bunch of cops nearby but still… it wasn't like I worried too much about her, wasn't it?
I had all the time in the world to slip away with vampire speed before she looked up but one sentence briefly rooted me on the spot: "Vampire. Something with "vampire" in it."
My split-second hesitation was all it took for her to spot me.
I kinda expected a "Who are you?" or a "What are you doing here?" said in a curious or even suspicious tone but she stepped even closer, her face illuminated by a smile. She was smiling at me. Before I realized the full negative implication of that, there was a strange sensation where my heart used to beat, before Coraline trampled it to pieces after making a monster of me.
Shit, she recognized me somehow. Time to turn the good ol' Mick St. John charm on.
"Do I know you?" she asked, that damnable smile still on her face.
She hadn't looked into my eyes for 22 years, and that instant is when my brain chose to catch up with the fact that she had become a young woman. Somehow until this moment she'd always been the little girl I had saved from Coraline's clutches. I hadn't been this close to her since that fateful night, always taking pictures with a telephoto lens. Now I could feel her breath on my face, see the beautiful blue hue of her eyes, the fresh color of her skin.
"You tell me," I answered, wanting to see where she thought she knew me from.
At least, she had yet to really remember and realize that I should look much, much older.
I knew my strategy had worked when her open expression turned a bit confused.
"You 're a cop, right?"
"No"
"Reporter?"
"Nope"
So she thought she knew me from her professional contacts. Good.
"We've met before. You look very familiar." A cute little frown had appeared right between her brows.
"Well, maybe I've just got one of those faces,"I said.
I know that was lame but I couldn't bring myself to invent something and lie even more to her. There was something so trusting in her eyes, like she knew I would never hurt her. She was so alive, the heat of her body coming in waves towards mine.
Something shifted inside of me. Not a tidal wave, not an earthquake or a light storm. Something tiny, infinitesimal.
"Okay," she finally said, admitting defeat at putting a name on my face. But she threw me a look that said "Still, I'm sure I know you". Strong-headed woman.
She didn't say goodbye and leave as I expected. Was she this trusting with everyone or did her subconscious remembered me?
"Question: what do you like better? "Vampire Slaying Rocks L.A…"
"There's no such thing as vampires," I cut in, the cruel irony of the situation not lost on me.
Something about the dead girl's body made her think about us. I would have to investigate. We didn't need that kind of attention.
She turned her head for one second and I used the moment to take my leave and step away – no run away – from the dream. Women like Beth Turner didn't smile at monsters like me. I didn't deserve her trust. I was the reason she had been terrorized and almost killed as a child.
I would never see her that close again and resume my telephoto lens routine. Some things just shouldn't happen. Some people should remain untouched.
