A/N: Many thanks to the following for reading and commenting but in particular to MariaLisa for the unfailing support and superb beta; notesofwimsey for the discussions on all things literary; Elainhe for her innate ability to catch the emotional nuances; Bluenose for the title which comes from a line in the song Pale Moon by Shannon McNally, and provides a perfect dichotomy for this piece.
Pale Moon Burning Sun
Where do they belong?
Prologue
Enticed into mingling business with pleasure
In a land
Far removed from their own.
The sunset layered the sky
With heated red at its base
To deepening blue on high.
The night in magical transformation
Tempered and cooled
From the burning blaze of the day.
Beyond the twilight, the moon rose
Resplendently pale.
Liberating. Rejuvenating. Consecrating.
Chapter 1
Her eyelashes, a half-mooned darkness, splashed against alabaster cheeks.
He despised waking her; she slept as peacefully as a baby.
His hand resting on the swell of her hip, lips to ear, he whispered, "Hey, sleepyhead."
She stirred. His gut clenched. It was too soon.
He knew it; she knew it.
She denied it; he couldn't deny her.
--------
A heavy hand of heat struck them as they exited the apartment building. Although early in the day the sun burned a path through the sky, barely a deterrent for people who mindlessly scurried to their appointed destinations.
--------
They ducked under the yellow tape; he with a hovering hand at her back; the hand that rarely strayed more than six inches from her; guiding, guarding, protecting.
She stalled at the vic. The vigilant hand detected the immediate stiffening in her carriage.
Shit. Her Achilles heel.
The young woman was simply dressed; her face a mask of sweet repose contradicting the disturbing angle of her slight body.
He swiped a hand across the back of his neck, herding beads of sweat. The day, starting tentatively, nose dived into challenging.
Her wits scattered like sheep as the emptiness began to fill with dread. Once a master of burying emotions, now a struggling student of fielding them; she suddenly yearned for the destructive simplicity of old habits.
"I'll take the body, you take the perimeter."
"No!"
"Linds ... you aren't ready for this."
"I was handling it okay before-"
"Before, yeah ... but we all have setbacks."
"I know but I need to do this."
His face shifted into a slight grimace. My Achilles heel.
"Okay," blue eyes relenting to brown, "but we'll work it together."
Relief sighed through her body, then determination set her features as they squatted next to the body, humidity sealing the latex gloves around their hands.
She lifted the young woman's head, gently turning it; he gestured toward the mass of caked blood.
"Blunt force trauma to the head."
"Flakes of," quickly surveying the peeling paint on the brick wall, noting the telltale splat, "paint it looks like."
"Damn, she hit it hard."
She gently lowered the head.
"Had help; look at the bruises around her wrists."
Dread gave way to desolation; its grip holding fast as she fought to stand against it.
The hand was back, holding the desolation at bay.
"Linds?"
"I'm okay, Danny."
"Ya sure?"
Head bob.
"Okay, let's survey the perimeter ... see what we can turn up."
--------
Interior, dark and stale; remnants of smoke and sex.
Gentleman's Respite, he snorted.
Not one to disdain another's choice, in this case he couldn't but ...
A paunch proportioned to the status of the man was wedged between the table and the wall.
"Happen to notice the dead body lying in the alley behind your club?"
"News to me." Eyes focused on hands sorting receipts.
"Hard to believe you don't know what goes on around here ... this is your place, right?"
"I know what goes on in here. Out there," thumb jerk over the shoulder, "ain't my concern."
Hands palming the tabletop, "If I find you had anything to do with that murder, I promise you'll be concerned."
Purity entering Gomorrah. "We're all loaded."
"Now there's something I could be concerned with." Leering eyes scampering up and down. "Sweet cheeks, how 'bout circling a pole for me? More green in one night than you see in a month."
Protective arm stretching across her.
Catching the glint of finger gold. "It's like that, huh? We don't discriminate as long as the tits and ass are good ... could work out well for both of you; you know, build a little nest egg real quick."
"You lowlife bastard"
Gentle hand tugging; tempering anger.
--------
Sun fully aflame in its zenith; sizzling concrete and metal alike; relentless and indiscriminate.
The stream of tepid air did little to relieve; little to relieve their crawl through the sprawl; the constant vigilance of mirrored giants; the crush of faceless, nameless humanity, and nothing to relieve the emptiness.
Only he could do that. Him ... and the night of the Pale Moon.