Title: White Dwarf
Author: Marianne H. Stillie
Categories: Missing Scene from the end of 12:04 A. M., POV, Angst
Rating: T
Pairing: Mick & Beth
Season: Season 1
Summary: Mick St. John's perception of where his undead life is after Beth finds out who her rescuer was all those years ago.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places for Moonlight are the property of Silver Pictures Television and Warner Bros. Television. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks are intended. Previously unrecognized characters, places and this story are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Archive: Please do not archive anywhere without the author's permission.
Copyright (c) 2007 Marianne H. Stillie
Author's Note: A white dwarf is a dense mass dying star whose core has burnt out and gives off only faint luminosity. It will continue to degenerate for billions of years into eternity until it finally dies as a black dwarf or explodes in a supernova.
White Dwarf
Hiding in my office since I left Beth on the balcony just after dawn isn't my usual M.O. I know it's the coward's way out, but that's the way it has to be.
I've listened to her padding around in my apartment these past hours. She's repeatedly come very near the closed door between the two spaces as she waited for Audrey to wake up. Even through the thick metal, I've felt her anguish and confusion. Each time the emotions have been mixed with the love she feels for me. I've expected the door to be flung open, her persistent voice demanding real answers, not the ones I gave her on the balcony. But she hasn't. Maybe she's beginning to understand the 'why'.
Finally, I hear two soft feminine voices in conversation, water running then the door to my apartment opens and closes. To my super-sensitive hearing, the sound is much louder than it actually is.
I sit back in the chair behind my desk letting the unfamiliar exhaustion take over. I haven't slept much in the past forty-eight hours. Even worse, I've taken very little nourishment in the last twenty-four. Why my vamp-self hasn't manifested is a mystery. I rarely use the syringe, but it's a necessity right now.
As I go by the leather chair in front of my desk, I casually pick up the shirt I'd thrown there yesterday. Opening the unlocked door, I head for the kitchen. From long habit, it only takes a few minutes. The cold human blood courses through my hungry veins, hot and welcome.
My cell is next to the sink as if Beth knew I'd be going to that very spot. I had programmed The Cleaner's number in after that meeting a few weeks ago. There's always a first time for something in a vamp's long life. This was one of mine. There was no remorse or pity. Just gratitude that I'd been able to save two innocent lives.
When the call connects, I make it brief, "This is Mick St. John."
The surprised response on the other end only lasts a split second then its all business.
"Yeah," I tell her. "The address is 2110 Drexal Avenue, the penthouse."
A quick confirmation and projected arrival time on her part and the connection dies.
My hand brushes the shirt I'd laid on the counter as I put the cell down. The image of what Beth had done when she'd held the dark material in her hands only hours ago surges through all my senses. The human sense of smell filters out the harshness and corruption of an undead like me. Her totally open emotions have always come through to me, but never like this. My weakened state hadn't picked it up before. Now they envelope my body like a sensual caress, far more intense than the brief kisses and hugs we've shared in reality. Even my most erotic thoughts about Beth haven't carried this much power. Looking around, I vividly see every spot she's imprinted with her presence on this level. The memories that exist upstairs will be even harder to deal with. Everywhere I turn, there's the scent and feel of her. Is this what I've just walked away from?
Josef would call my reactions maudlin romanticism. If he knew about the love I'd lost so long ago, he might understand why giving up Beth is so tragic even by vampire standards. Then again, he probably wouldn't.
He will be happy that I'm finally accepting what world I actually belong in. Of course, existing in the world of the undead and accepting that I am one, are two different things. I don't intend to mention that part. The semantical nuance won't matter to my best friend anyway. Not now that Beth is going to be out of the picture.
I pick up the cell phone again. Going by that emergence theory I recently read about, my next step is pretty obvious, so I go to the most recent entry on my contact list. It's all a matter of getting what my undead life deserves. That it will either cure me or kill me is a crap shoot.
Two rings and the call connects.
"Hi, Morgan."