A/N: I'm so excited to be back writing for "Moonlight!" I did have fun over on "The Mentalist" board, and will revisit there again. If you are new to my "Moonlight" series, you can start with this one, and I'll try to put in enough back info for you to follow along. This is my fifteenth story in the series, however, so you can go back and start with "Behind Closed Doors" if you want the entire experience.
So, a brief recap. This story takes place about two years after "Sonata," the last episode of the series. Mick and Beth are together and engaged. Josef and Simone are recently married, and Simone is now a vampire. Beth fell down icy stairs in a foiled kidnapping attempt of Simone, suffered brain damage and blindness. This story is set three months after that attack. I know, I know. Sounds like a soap opera. I hope you like it anyway.
Chapter 1
BETH
It didn't matter that I couldn't see the caller ID on my cell phone; I recognized his voice immediately. Josef. He'd been calling me nearly every day since I'd settled back into my apartment, trying in his own way to keep my spirits up, to prevent me from falling into depression. He thought he could accomplish this by telling me extremely inappropriate, politically incorrect blind jokes. On many levels, it was actually working.
"So a blind guy walks into a grocery store," he began without preamble. "And he starts swinging around his seeing-eye dog by the leash. And the dog's knocking stuff off shelves; other shoppers are ducking in terror. Then the manager comes up to the guy. 'May I help you?' he asks indignantly." Josef paused for effect. "'No thanks,' says the blind man, 'I'm just lookin' around.'"
I burst out laughing, feeling a little guilty to find amusement in disability, even though it was one I currently shared. "That was really dumb, Josef," I said, still laughing.
"I know, that one was on the corny side. I'll have another Helen Keller for you tomorrow."
"Please, don't. I feel guiltiest when I laugh at those." I rubbed the back of my head absently. I was plagued with daily headaches since my fall down the stairs, and some days were better than others. This, unfortunately, was a bad day.
There was a momentary silence, then: "So how are you today, Blondie? Keeping that stubborn chin up?"
I sighed. "Trying. Mick's still badgering me to move back in with him. I mean, when we first got back to LA, it was good. I needed someone to take care of me. But now, I need to find a way to make it on my own. He's having a hard time understanding that."
"Don't be too hard on him, Beth. If I were him, and Simone were you, I'd be taking care of her whether she wanted me to or not. But I get where you're coming from. Familiar surroundings probably makes it a little easier, gives you confidence. And you are nothing if not independent. Probably your worst trait, if I may say so."
"Like I could stop you…" I said, smirking into the phone.
We'd come a long way, Josef and I. From his short-lived obsession with me to standing up for him and Simone at their wedding, we'd settled at last in a good place. We understood each other. He was like my much older brother, taunting and cajoling me into keeping my sanity, whether I wanted him to or not. I was like his best friend's little sister in his mind, and he felt it was his obligation to protect me, even if it meant insulting the entire population of the visually impaired. I didn't think he was telling Mick about his daily calls to me, and I hadn't mentioned it to Mick either, fearing he would think that it meant something it most assuredly did not.
Josef was feeling guilty about my blindness. He blamed himself for causing Elise Walker's psychotic break which led to my accident. Mick blamed him too, but had forgiven him, having already been down that road of casting off his best friend. Neither of them was willing to go through that again; it's a wonder they'd both survived it the first time. As for me, I blamed Elise Walker, and she was currently paying for it in a mental hospital in Lake Tahoe. Just thinking about Simone's mother made my head throb even more. I reached for a bottle of pain killers.
"Okay, then, Buzzwire. Go back to your moping and self-pity. I'll call back tomorrow for your daily pep talk."
"Thanks, Josef. Really. Your calls are one of the highlights of my day."
"Naturally." But I heard the smile in his voice as he hung up.
MICK
Josef's secretary waved me on past and I tapped lightly on his door before entering. He was just hanging up the phone.
"Mick, always a pleasure," said my best friend, rising to his feet. "I haven't seen you in a few days. How are things?" He went to the wet bar and poured us both a drink.
"Things, suck, thank you. You know, I've taken Beth to ten doctors in the last two months. Ten. Every one of them says her blindness is inoperable. Oh, except this one guy that wanted to try some experimental nano-implant. No way is he using Beth as his personal guinea pig."
I took the proffered drink gratefully, and sat heavily in a leather chair, taking a fortifying gulp. The burn as it went down was somehow comforting.
"My offer is still out there to whack the quacks…"he said, joining me in a chair opposite mine.
"As tempting as that is," I replied, "I think they've all had good intentions. These guys are the experts in their fields, Josef. The best your money can buy, remember? It's been three months since the accident, and she hasn't shown any signs of improvement. And have I mentioned how much I hate that Beth has moved back to her place? I spend most of my nights and parts of the days I can sitting in my car outside her condo on the off chance she might need my help. Simone does her grocery shopping—she won't even let me help with that. Says Simone still remembers what human women like to eat. She has a neighbor do her laundry, and Carrie comes by to help her clean her place once a week. I'm completely extraneous."
I washed down my diatribe with another drink of whiskey, the frustration of it all starting to overwhelm me.
"I'm sure that's not true," he ventured. "I mean, there are some duties Simone and Carrie just can't perform, seeing as they lack certain equipment, right? Well, they could improvise, I guess, but I didn't think Beth was into that sort of thing…"
"Huh?" I looked at him in confusion, before his not-so-subtle implications sank in. "As usual, Josef, none of your business."
He regarded me a moment, then rightly surmised what I refused to tell him. "You and the blonde haven't been backin' up the old hard drive lately, eh? What's up with that?"
I sighed. I knew I shouldn't even try to keep anything from him, the old busybody. "Well, it's pretty difficult when your girlfriend has a perpetual headache, and I do mean literally."
"The doctors say it's dangerous?"
"No. I did ask, without her knowing, of course. Now, I just feel like I'd be pressuring her. And really, who wants to have sex if you have a headache? I don't think she's lying to me. Do you?"
"Mick, the only way I wouldn't have sex is if my dick suddenly fell off. Now, if Beth's parts are still intact, she should be raring to go. It must be in her head, if you'll pardon the pun."
"What could she possibly be afraid of? I wouldn't have to drink from her. I can be gentle. She knows how much I love her. What would you do?"
He smirked. "Well I'd seduce her, of course. You'd have to be very subtle; ease her into it. Reassure her every step of the way. You know, act like you genuinely care about her feelings."
"Josef, I do genuinely care about her feelings."
"Then it should make it easier than I predicted. Come on, Romeo, I know you have it in you. I frankly think it would do you both a world of good. Three months without sex—you must be about ready to explode by now."
I laughed. "I've had dry spells longer than that." But I wasn't about to tell him that Beth had certainly seen to my needs a time or two over the past few months. But being with her completely, joined to her, was a pleasure, a need that I was sorely missing. It was ironic that we were back to square one. We weren't having sex because I was once again afraid to hurt her.
"Well, that's damn well a drought for me," Josef was saying. "You two need to get right back on that horse and start riding."
"Nice imagery. You really don't have to worry about my sex life, Josef."
"Oh, but I do. I worry about every aspect of your life, my friend. But how is Beth, really? Is she getting out of the house? Contemplating getting back to work?"
"No and no. While I wouldn't quite say she was depressed exactly, she does seem reluctant to tear herself from that apartment. Talbot came by to visit her last week. He's willing to make some adjustments so that she could continue to work in the DA's office in some capacity or other. I'm not sure Beth is ready for that. She's lost something along with her sight. She's lost her confidence, her drive. She's still my Beth, but she seems fragile and scared. I hate this, Josef. I feel like she's slipping away from me and there's nothing I can do to get her back."
Josef was quiet a minute, and I knew he was feeling guilty again. I'd forgiven Josef for his part in Beth's fall, but I could tell he hadn't forgiven himself. Welcome to my world. But Josef didn't like to dwell on negative things, so I could almost see his mind switching gears.
"So, what is she doing with herself?"
I sighed. "She listens to the radio a lot. Says she can't stand to have the TV on—only reminds her she can't see. And she's been listening to a lot of audio books. Catching up on the classics, she says. Right now, she's working her way through The Complete Jane Austen. If I hear one more British accent spouting undying love, I'll stake myself."
Josef grinned. "Awww…Jane Austen. I had fun working my way through her. Nineteenth century ladies were such a delightful contradiction."
I looked at him, trying to discern if he was bullshitting me. He'd been around four-hundred years and I know he'd met a lot of historical figures. But Jane Austen? Seriously?
"You're kidding me, right?" I said skeptically.
He stayed straight-faced for about ten seconds, then chuckled at my expression. "No, I never corrupted Jane Austen's sense or sensibility. I did meet her, however. Nice girl. A little too self-righteous for my taste, though. But it's true what I said about women of that time. All prim and proper on the outside; hellcats in the bedroom. Mmmmhmmm." His eyes went glossy with remembrance. "The best hand job I ever had was from a first-season miss in my box at Covent Garden in London. Ophelia wasn't the only one hitting the high notes that night, I can tell you. When her mama got back from the ladies' retiring room, she thought I was extremely rude for being so quiet. Actually, I was just catatonic."
We grinned at each other, and I rose to leave.
"Well, thanks for the encouragement, buddy," I told him.
"My pleasure. And Mick…don't worry so much about Beth. I'm no shrink, but I'm sure you realize she must be grieving for what she's lost. And we've still got Europe to conquer in our quest for a doctor."
"Yeah. I haven't given up hope, yet. I just have to help keep Beth encouraged. I think I'll head over there now. I'm sure she'd love to hear your Jane Austen story."
"Ha. I'm sure. I know it cheered me up just telling it."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Thirty minutes later, I pulled up to the Victorian-style condo unit that was Beth's home. I never got over the feeling of anticipation I had right before I saw her. I felt jittery, nervous, excited and overwhelmingly happy that I would soon be holding her, kissing her. We'd been together two years, and I still felt the same way every time I was about to see her.
I smiled to myself and walked up the front steps, then to the single flight of stairs that led up to her apartment. Halfway down the hall to her door, I smelled it: blood. Beth's blood. I ran the rest of the way, then punched in the number on the key pad of the new security system I'd installed when she'd moved back to her apartment. I couldn't hear Beth's heartbeat through the door as I usually could. I felt myself panicking as I screwed up the number order and had to start again. Finally, the lock beeped its acceptance and I turned the doorknob. The smell of her blood was overwhelming and drew me unerringly to her living room.
"Beth!"
It was the most horrendous sight I'd ever seen. She was sprawled on the floor as if she'd fallen there, her blonde hair like a golden halo around her pale face. Blood flowed slowly from her nose, her ears and from the corner of her mouth. I couldn't detect her pulse or her breath as I stood in shock, everything taking on a surreal tinge before I finally shook myself awake and sprang into action.
I dropped to my knees beside her, laying my head on her chest to listen. There it was. One faint pound of her heart. I heard the slight expansion of her lungs as she took the shallowest of breaths. She was alive, but barely. I should have been giving her CPR, but I had no breath of my own to give her. I reached into my pocket for my phone, thinking that I should be calling 911, but I realized that she likely only had minutes to live, that help would be too late, and I wouldn't be able to get her to the hospital in time myself, even with my superhuman speed. She was dying, and all I could do was sit there and let her. I pulled her into my arms.
"Beth," I said in anguish.
Whatever had caused this, I knew, from my experience as an Army medic, it was located in her brain. An aneurism most likely, probably brought on by her recent head injury. She was bleeding out into her brain, and I couldn't help her, couldn't do anything but hold her and cry.
She told me that she could see herself changing her mind about wanting to be turned…
The echo of a conversation I'd had with Simone a few months ago in Beth's hospital room reverberated in my mind. I had been prepared to attempt to turn her in the hospital if she hadn't come out of her coma. I could try to turn her now. I didn't know if this would work, given the state of her body. To change someone to a vampire, the sire was supposed to drink from the victim until their heartbeat was barely discernable, and then make them drink the sire's vampire blood. If I attempted to drain her of her blood, she would be dead long before she was even partly drained. I wouldn't know when to stop. Could I turn someone who was already dead? Would it work, or would she end up in some vegetative state like Sarah Whitley had? I honestly didn't know. The seconds were ticking by, and I had to decide before all hope was lost.
The answer crystallized in my mind, and I brought her limp neck to my mouth, willing my fangs to extend before I slipped them gently into her soft skin. Her blood filled my mouth, its rare type the sweetest blood I'd ever tasted, but this time I had to force myself not to choke on it. I'd had Beth's blood in my mouth when she saved me once in a hot desert. I'd tasted it many times in the sweet aftermath of our lovemaking. While I knew there was the possibility this day would come, that I would be able to drink my fill of her and make her mine completely and irrevocably, this was not the way I'd ever imagined it would happen. Instead of elation at the ceremonial feel of her turning, I felt sick with fear and shock.
I could no longer detect any signs of life from her, but I drank a little more. There was something in a vampire's bite, maybe a venom, maybe some sort of immobilizer that was necessary in the turning process, and I had no idea how much would be required in her system before I could expose her to the taste of my own blood. I relied on my instincts and stopped abruptly, trying not to think about the fact that there was no going back now. Beth was truly dead in my arms. I had killed her, or, at the very least, sped the process along.
Acting quickly now, I bit into my forearm, opening a vein so that my blood began to flow in a slow stream. I lay her gently on the carpet, pulling down on her slack jaw to open her mouth to receive my offering. As the drops disappeared into her mouth, I prayed harder than I ever had in my life.
Please, baby. Drink. Drink. Drink.
Half a minute elapsed with no reaction, no instinctual swallowing of the blood that dripped into Beth's lifeless body. How long should I do this before giving her up for truly dead? I'd turned one other person, and it had been a mindless and awkward process by the bumbling fledgling I had once been. This was an entirely different situation, fraught with too much emotion, too much fear. Almost too much for me to bear. After another minute, I slumped to the floor, removing my arm away from her face. She was gone. I was sure I'd given her more than enough blood to change her.
Numbly, I sat back against her couch, the one where we'd first made love so many months before. I closed my eyes, letting the blood from my arm drip heedlessly to the floor. I began sobbing with deep, wracking gulps that felt like they were ripping the soul from my body. I made myself look at her, the ghastly red of our mixed blood on her lips and smeared on her cheeks. I gathered her against me again, crying into her rose-scented hair, contemplating slitting my own throat, or walking into the desert sun until I dropped and died a slow death. That's what the rest of my half-life would be without her—a slow, endless death.
I took her left hand in mine, feeling the engagement ring she wore openly now that Josef and Simone were happily married. I'd put it on her finger in the hospital when I'd realized that life was short, at least for humans, and that I wanted her to be bound to me, even if we only had a few short years together. I didn't think we'd only have a few short months. And we'd wasted them on hunting for her cure instead of marrying and enjoying what time we were given.
In the midst of my anguish, a new scent suddenly assaulted my nostrils. The scent of another vampire. Like a butterfly quickening to emerge from its cocoon, the dead woman in my arms began to move. My eyes flew open and I held her away from me so I could see if it was just my imagination overtaking me, my overwrought mind playing a sick joke. But no, it was her! It was real!
"Beth?" I said to her still closed eyes. "Sweetheart, are you with me?"
She made a little noise in her throat. I shook her a little. "Beth?"
"Mick," she muttered thickly. And then my butterfly opened her silvery eyes.
TBC
A/N: This chapter was designed to show how tenuous life is, how tragedy can strike quickly and without warning. Please let me know if you like this beginning. I thought I'd start out with a nice cliffie.
Also, my apologies if anyone was offended by the blind joke. Remember, it was told by Josef, not known for his political correctness. Please don't shoot the messenger.
