A/N: Many creative, talented people write for "Moonlight." Alas, I am not one of them. Therefore, the characters do not belong to me. In this case, I don't even own the story. This is my version of season 1, episode 4 ("Fever"). It's a study in telling the same events from different points of view.

Lenny's POV

I stared uncomprehendingly at the smoldering remains of the police car. Could this day possibly get any stranger? Not only had I escaped from the attack on the so-called "safe" house, I'd been attacked by a helicopter. A helicopter! Even living in LA, even working for a mob boss, a helicopter attack is weird. But that's how I found myself stranded along a desolate stretch of highway with Mick St. John. Another plume of smoke escaped into the sky. Mick turned to me and asked if I was all right.

"Yeah, just a little freaked out," I responded. Roll with it, Lenny. You've been through worse. Like watching your boss murder your boyfriend. I took some deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.

Mick had a pretty chalky complexion. He'd fry in a few hours unless he'd thought to bring sunscreen. Which wasn't likely. But hey, maybe he had some. Mick was a surprising guy. I never would've guessed he'd know how to send the helicopter after an empty car. "Are you okay?" I asked him.

He looked down the highway, and then up at the sun. "I will be, as soon as we get out of here."

At the moment, though, our prospects on getting anywhere weren't looking too good. Then I heard sirens off in the distance. They were coming closer. Of course, it doesn't take long for accidents to get recognized, even in the middle of nowhere. "Cops. Do you think we can still trust them?" I wondered aloud.

Mick held his cell phone up to the sky, looking for a signal, then looked really pissed and shoved it back in his pocket. He glanced in the direction of the sirens and answered, "We're probably going to regret this, but we're not going to stick around long enough to find out." He glared up at the sun and headed off into the desert. I hesitated for a moment and then ran to catch up with him.

I could tell before too long that Mick was totally unprepared for the hike. He certainly didn't have sunscreen. He didn't even have water. We hadn't even gone half a mile and he already looked dehydrated. "I wish I had a water bottle," I complained.

Mick turned around and gave me a wry look. "You thirsty too?" One look at his face told me he was much worse off than I was.

"I meant for you, actually," I told him.

He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Wouldn't do much good."

We stopped talking and focused on walking. I don't know how long we walked. It seemed like hours, but the sun was still high in the sky. I asked Mick once if he wanted to stop. I could've used a rest too, but he said we needed to keep going. I passed him my jacket, and he held it over his head like an umbrella. It didn't help much, though, because he was still sweating buckets.

Mick walked a few steps ahead, but he'd turn around every couple minutes and make sure I was okay. I was fine, more or less, but Mick looked worse each time. He wasn't going to last much longer. I knew that if Mick was out here all afternoon, he'd die. From something. Exposure, or dehydration, I didn't know exactly. He was looking delirious, like his mind was in another world. Mick stumbled, and I was able to catch up to him. It was hopeless. We were going to die out here, in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly I saw something on the horizon. I blinked and looked again. It was still there. A building! "Mick, look!" I shouted.

Our walking had a purpose now. The building turned out to be an old motel. A sign in the window revealed that it was closed for renovations. I felt immediate relief when we walked in. It already felt cooler in the shade. Mick grabbed a key from the wall behind him and we headed down the hall to room 3. There was no air conditioning, but at least we were out of the sun. "Maybe you should lie down?" I suggested to Mick. I wondered frantically what the symptoms of heatstroke were and how to treat it.

"Find the ice machine," he instructed. "Get a lot. Please go, go." I grabbed the little bucket and headed off to find the ice machine. Mick headed into the bathroom. I looked for an ice machine down the hallways, but didn't see one. Then I saw an outdoor freezer through the window. I headed out, praying it would have ice. I pulled the lid open and laughed in relief. The freezer was full of ice. I grabbed a giant bucket resting on top and began scooping ice in.

When the bucket was full, I dragged it back to the room. I needed both hands to carry it. I found Mick lying in the tub with the water running. He looked a little better, but not much. He gestured towards the tub with one finger and I poured the whole bucket of ice in. The tub was getting pretty full, so I turned the water off. Then I reached into my pocket. "Hey, I raided the mini-bar," I told Mick, holding up a miniscule bottle of juice I'd found and a pack of crackers. "For you."

Mick glanced at the food in my hands. "No."

He'd lost a lot of fluids, so why didn't he want the juice? But that wasn't our biggest problem at the moment. "We have to get you to a hospital," I told Mick. "This is not just regular dehydration. There is something seriously wrong." I was way out of my league here. The ambulance would know where to find us, I hoped. I'd noticed a road sign, so I knew the motel was near Highway 37. It was a starting point, anyway…

Mick interrupted my thoughts. "No hospitals," he instructed. That was a stupid idea…unless calling an ambulance meant the psychos could find us? "Just keep trying to get a signal," Mick continued. "Call the number I gave you. Ask for Beth. Just talk to her. Only Beth." Which, actually, didn't seem so paranoid considering the fact that I'd survived two attempts on my life in one day.

But who was Beth anyway? I asked Mick, but all he said was, "I trust her."

"Hey," I pressed, trying to keep him talking, "Is she your girlfriend?"

"No!" he answered immediately. After a pause, he added, "It's complicated." Right. Meaning he wanted her to be his girlfriend.

"Is there anything else I can do?" I asked. He drifted off again. The fever was probably making him delusional. "Are you all right?" I asked, concerned.

"Please, just leave," he replied.

Not gonna happen. He needed someone to stay here with him. "No, I want to stay here with you."

"Call Beth," he repeated. "Go, go."

I couldn't think of any reason to not try calling again. It would only take a minute to find there was still no signal, and then I could go and sit with Mick some more. So I stood up and walked out into the dimly lit main room. When I tried the phone again, I was shocked to find that it was finally working. I found Beth's number and pressed the call button.

It rang once, twice. A woman's voice came through the other end. "Beth Turner." The voice was hoarse, like she'd been crying.

"Hi, it's Lenny Hayes," I answered.

Immediately Beth sounded better. After assuring her that I was okay, she asked anxiously, "Is Mick all right? Can you put him on the line?"

"Um, Mick's not doing too good," I answered honestly. "We had to walk a couple miles to get to this old motel…and it was hot. Really hot."

"But he's alive?" Beth's voice was an odd mixture of relief and concern.

"Yeah," I assured her. "He's alive." I owed Mick my life. Now it was my job to make sure he got help.

Beth asked for directions. I told her what I could. "We were driving east on Route 183 when we…where we left the car, and then we walked north, probably like two miles?" I guessed. "Anyway, the motel's called Desert Oasis and it's near Highway 37. Oh, and we're in room 3."

"Okay, I found the motel on Mapquest," Beth answered after a moment. "I'll be there in half an hour," she promised.

I went back into the bathroom. "Mick, I spoke to Beth. She's coming," I told him. He looked totally out of it. Like he was on another planet. "Mick? Mick?" I leaned over him. His eyes were completely glazed over. For a horrible moment, I thought he was dead. "Mick?" I called again, desperately.

Suddenly, he snapped back to reality. "Get out!" he screamed. "Get out, Lenny, get out now!" He looked truly frightful in that moment. I retreated out of the bathroom. Holy crap, what was his problem? I hoped he'd heard me when I'd told him about Beth. Now there was nothing to do but wait. I flipped on the television, but there was no reception. I resorted to pacing. More than once I went check on Mick again, but I was afraid he'd yell at me again. The last thing he needed right now was to exert himself.

Finally the door opened and an attractive woman with long blonde hair walked in. "Lenny, I'm Beth," she introduced herself. Her voice was full of worry. I didn't have to ask who she was worried about.

I turned around and crossed the room to her. "You have to help him!" I pleaded.

She didn't need to ask who I was talking about either. "Where is he?" she asked.

I led Beth to the bathroom door. "In here," I answered. "I think he's dying." I was almost in tears. I prayed he wasn't dead already.

"Stay here," Beth instructed. She walked in and closed the door behind her.

I heard their muffled voices. Mick was shouting something that didn't make any sense. But after a minute, everything got quiet. I figured Beth would call me if there was a problem. Now I just had to wait. I sat down on the bed. It was more comfortable than I would've thought for a cheap motel. I'd been awake for more than twenty-four hours. It couldn't hurt to just lie down for a minute…

The next thing I heard was a muffled cry, and a horribly familiar voice saying, "Scream and you're dead." It was the guy! My would-be assassin. "Scream and you're dead. Where's the girl?" he demanded. I recognized him as the one who'd posed as the neighbor with the cable problem. Had that only been last night? It seemed like an eternity ago. It was dark, and I realized that I must've slept all afternoon. Who was he talking to? I got up cautiously to look.

Suddenly there was a crash and a crack and a clatter. The assassin was lying on the floor, and there was a giant hole in the bathroom door. I heard the door open, and Mick's voice. "Are you all right?" he asked. I looked and saw Beth sitting next to the remains of the door.

I stepped out. "Mick? Are you all right?" I asked him. Impossible as it seemed, he looked fine now. What had happened while I was asleep?

"Yeah, actually, I feel better," he answered, smiling at some secret joke. Apparently he still wasn't going to tell me anything. But I didn't care. I ran over to Mick and gave him a hug. He hugged me back. He was probably just happy that we were all safe. So was I.

Suddenly he pulled away. "I'd better call the police. Let them know we're okay." I noticed that he and Beth were avoiding each other's eyes. Had they had a fight? It seemed like a pretty crappy time to break up a complicated relationship. I wondered what had happened between them, but if there's one thing I learned from working for Fayid, it's when to mind my own business.

Victoville PD came and picked us up half an hour later. Our adventure was over. I went back with the cops, and Mick headed off in Beth's car. As they turned to go, I noticed Beth drop something on the floor. I passed it on the way out: one of the hotel's little hand towels, stained bright red.

This is my first Moonlight fanfic. Please R&R! Chapter 2 will be from Beth's POV, and Chapter 3 from Mick's.