Disclaimer: Writing fanfiction stories generally includes inherent admission as to lack of the ownership of the intellectual property said stories are based on. This case is no exception of the rule.
Summary: Sometimes a split-second decision can alter one's fate completely. And have consequences beyond one's wildest expectations. Alternative story beginning with the events of Heart of Fire.
Credit for betareading goes to Sherron and Marlana.
Darkest Moments
Chapter X
Lying with a beautiful girl in your arms is not something any straight sane man would want to end. Still it is a fairly well known fact that everything good in the world has to sooner or later come to an end.
Mike felt Delphine shift in his arms. Did he dare to hope that her movements told of her reluctance to change the current position?
She finally sat on her heels next to him, wrapping the covers around her body. Something in Mike protested at being deprived of the sight but he didn't voice anything. Again, it was amazing what wonders you could achieve in male behaviour with a bit of training involving certain females and firearms. He winced. This was definitely not a time he wanted to think about other females.
"Delphine?"
"I should probably be going. I don't suppose you know what time it is? I need to be back before sunrise."
"Of course," Mike acknowledged, trying not to think of how much that reminded him of the experience of a high school date with a set hour to get the girl home. Speaking of which... "Sorry, if you actually want me to see my watch I'll need to turn on the light."
"No need." As if permission was all she needed, she leaned over him, took hold of his watch and glanced at it, smiling in what he could only assume was relief. "There is still time. I can't believe I lost track of time completely."
"Maybe it is just me, but to be honest I'd be more concerned if you didn't." He also sat up and gently kissed her cheek. She smiled.
"Still, I should have at least made sure I knew I had enough time to drive back from...where are we, exactly?"
The detective looked at her in surprise. "I thought Mimico was already here in the forties."
Her sheepish smile caught him a bit off guard. "I guess I was a bit distracted and wasn't looking where we were going. So we're actually in Etobicoke."
"Well, yeah. Why? Anything interesting for you there?"
"It's the hunting area Henry let me use during my stay."
For a second Mike was caught having absolutely no idea what to say. After all, what did one say to something like that? 'That's nice?' 'What a coincidence?' 'Is it good?' No, probably not the last one. She might actually answer that.
"Oh. I guess you know your way around the area then?" That should be safe enough.
"Well, I knew it a bit back in the forties. But this is the first time I've been here since 1945."
"So you actually don't know it all that well?"
"I don't know any place in Toronto well anymore. I hope to catch up a bit in the next few nights."
"How much time did you say we had until sunrise again?"
"I didn't." She smiled. "About three hours."
"Then how about I take you on a little detour on the way back to allow some sightseeing?"
Her smile grew, and suddenly she was standing next to the bed, the fabric she held around her flowing in a way a gown might. For some reason Mike found the situation entirely unfair.
"That would be lovely, Mike." Then again there are always a few nice consolation prizes around.
III
It seemed entirely too soon before they were climbing the stairs leading to Vicki's apartment. Well, if he was honest with himself, Mike had to admit that he was really the only one doing any climbing. Delphine's ascent was some intricate form of a ballet performance including floating upwards, touching the ground only for propriety sake.
Entranced by the sight, he almost missed the point at which they actually needed to stop before Vicki's door. The unplanned close proximity between them proved a good occasion to rest his arm around her waist as she opened the door, so perhaps the whole thing was excusable after all.
The vampiress opened the door and slid inside with the grace of a cat. Then she turned to him.
"Thank you for tonight, Mike. It was wonderful." She hesitated. "You were wonderful."
Her eyes were twinkling with a thousand stars as she spoke and beneath those, the detective could no longer decide if her eyes were brown or black. All he knew was that they were irresistibly captivating.
"I agree. It was great." He leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek. Then he hesitated for a briefest moment. "I don't suppose you'd like to try again?"
At her smile, he wondered if the reason the sun hurt vampires wasn't simple jealously of the sheer brightness of that smile.
"I think I'd like that. When?"
"How about tomorrow? You won't be in Toronto forever so it's better to take the chance while we have it."
"Tomorrow then. You know, I could come by your place after having my dinner."
After a short internal chant reprimanding himself not to get his imagination engaged in processing what that statement would involve, he nodded.
"Fine by me. When should I expect you?"
"Would half past eleven be too late for you? I could try to be quicker but, you know, I still don't know the area all that well."
"It won't be a problem. I've been known to stay at work longer than that."
"All right. See you tomorrow night then."
"Yes, see you then. Pleasant dreams, Delphine." He squeezed her hand gently. She smiled.
"Have a nice day, Mike." Then, on an impulse, she stepped to him and met his lips in a kiss before whispering, "Goodnight," and closing the door.
In the corridor, leaning against a wall, Mike heard her words from when she was in his arms echoing through his head. I could love you.
Only why did it have to be now that he didn't deserve that love?
III
It took Mike a moment to pull himself together and bring himself to finally leave Vicki's building. He went downstairs slowly and once he exited, he looked up to the widows of Vicki's apartment. They were blank, shut closely, reinforced by thick blankets. He shook his head. He honestly didn't know what he expected.
The detective looked at his watch and sighed. Too early to go to work and too late to go home and try to catch at least an hour of sleep. Finding a place where he could buy coffee at this hour sounded like a sensible plan.
He headed for his car with the face of the vampire goddess before his eyes. The beautiful face of a woman that trusted him tonight. He slid into the driver's seat and paused to consider the facts.
She was a vampire, not a human. He knew that from the start. Or at least he learned that within the first two minutes of seeing her for the first time. But that meant that tonight shouldn't have happened, right?
Doubt was drowning him with its tidal wave.
Right?
Vampires were, after all, creatures dwelling above human matters. Beings similar to humans only in their looks. Invincible – and at the point where that wasn't true anymore, still able to heal instantly, get up and walk away. Right?
But if that were true, where would tonight have come from? Where would a vampiress, showing all-too-human signs of trauma and needing comfort and time to heal, still suffering from the after-effects of her ordeal, have come from? And there was no denying, Delphine was very real. And tangible. Of that he got all the proof he needed tonight.
Then again, why wouldn't she be? She was a living, feeling creature, for which his memories could now vouch every time he needed. He felt her heart under his fingers, saw her tears and reaction to even the gentlest touch. Anyone entertaining any thoughts that she wasn't alive or was impervious to feelings, both physical and emotional, would have to be mental.
But that, of course, meant that vampires reacted to torture just like anyone else. Not that the traumatised victim of it, in the form of a beautiful girl, left any doubt of that. Only, that was too small a step away from admitting to himself something he could barely look at from a distance, let alone stand on his conscience.
Torture was just as horrifying and traumatising to vampires as it was to humans. Perhaps, he mused clinically, even worse. After all, there are only so many things you can do to humans before their bodies give out. But if vampires' bodies repaired themselves, over and over, not allowing for death, not allowing any escape, just providing the torturer clear material to work with…
Mike opened the window in his car. Suddenly breathing started to become very hard. In his imagination, haunted dark eyes stared at him with silent accusation and pain.
If vampires felt just like anyone else…
He closed his eyes as his body stilled, petrified, seemingly miles away from him and he felt ice encase and immobilise him for some reason.
What had he done?
III
Mike remembered well one of the first scenes he had gone to on this job. He doubted he would ever be able to forget it, It was the point at which the fairytale he believed about what it meant to work in the police was shattered by contact with bitter reality.
It was a multiple homicide – gang wars at their best. A whole roomful of people, aged from their late teens to their thirties were found dead. Some of them died by bullets. Those were the lucky ones. Others had their bones broken and were burned with acid. It took all he had to keep it together among all that.
What surprised him most was that in the end it turned out the whole massacre was caused by some kid, nineteen perhaps, who decided to sell out his friends for money, drugs or whatever reason it really was.
Mike remembered he looked at the kid with disgust, not dignifying him by considering him a human. Not after he was able to thoughtlessly cause something like that. He felt so much better than the boy then. So strong morally.
What a fool he had been.
The kid, Mike thought bitterly all of the sudden, at least didn't have the education to be able to foresee the outcome, didn't have the resources to check what he was doing. Didn't do it pushed by nothing but old-wives'-tales-based xenophobia.
Was it really that, he wondered? Was he really simply blind as to go with the first excuse he was provided, not stopping to think about the consequences? So what if he didn't know how it would all end? Where the hell did he get the idea of taking a man appearing out of nowhere, and everything he said, at face value?
Okay, he already knew he went wrong there. But, it suddenly hit him with cold clarity, this was not a mistake he could set right. So what if nobody died as a result of his stunt? No thanks to him that they didn't.
The thought that had kept him sane for the last few days, that he now knew who was who and was going to set things straight, suddenly looked like nothing but childish naivety. So what if, after it was much too late, it occurred to him that simply because he was a vampire Fitzroy didn't have to be the bad guy?
He could delve in this epiphany all he wanted now but it didn't mean it changed anything. It didn't change the facts. And the fact was that he sold someone who trusted him to a madman. Who trusted him, despite knowing of his animosity. Despite the accusations Mike made when the whole thing started. That was what Mendoza said, giving him Iluminaciòn del Sol, wasn't it? That it had to be used by someone the vampire trusted to let them get close enough?
The detective suddenly felt as if he was punched in the gut. He sold Fitzroy to that man. For no other reason than that in his prejudice he preferred to trust the word of a stranger over the word of his long-time partner when it came to the vampire.
And the things he caused by that decision….
It went even beyond a hostage situation. Way beyond. Mohadevan's report and the fear in Delphine's eyes, her screams as the sun was burning her alive started swirling in his head.
In fact, he realised, he didn't even know the extent of her injuries sustained because of that, for want of a better word, man. Vampires healed quickly so there weren't even any proofs left, no evidence while the madman was hurting her. Nothing aside from the haunted look in those dark eyes.
No, he decided with confidence that surprised even him. Vampires weren't the monsters here.
The only question that remained and refused to let go of him, was if Mendoza was the only one that was.
III
Mike stumbled into the station with that peculiar feeling of shaky light-headedness known to follow substituting sleep with large quantities of coffee. He knew he probably shouldn't have any more caffeine if he didn't want to go though the rest of the day with his hands shaking but he still made the coffee machine his first destination before he even reached his desk.
The hot liquid offered a momentary relief from his tiredness, so it was more than welcome. Of course, it also helped give his thoughts clarity, which he wasn't sure he cared for at the moment but it was a side effect he'd need to stand. If only because it made working easier.
He got to his desk, turned the computer on and opened the top folder from the stack on his desk. Perhaps it wasn't wholly unexpected that it was the working girl's case. Still, when he saw it he felt like cursing his luck. What the hell was he supposed to do with this mess?
On the one hand, he couldn't very well just let it go. A girl was dead and it didn't really matter if even her...colleagues? peers? looked down on her. A human life was taken and he was a homicide cop. The situation should be as clear as they get.
But could he really afford to even look into this case? Was he supposed to work it all the same, knowing it could lead, albeit indirectly, to Delphine? To the very girl who was still haunted by her own ordeal and who was really also the victim there? And of course, all that without mentioning vampires anywhere in the picture.
On the other hand, though, could he really throw his work ethics out of the window like that? Deliberately mislead the case until it met a dead end? And hope to God no one would ever take it up again, treating it as something dismissible because of the life the victim led?
Could he really put himself in place of the whole justice system? Could he, just because of how he perceived the victim, deprive her of justice? Unilaterally decide who deserved what?
Not that he hadn't put himself, all-too-willingly in that place, lately. He shuddered as he thought of that. Really, what was he thinking then? Or rather, why hadn't such thoughts decided to occur to him when they could actually do some good?
He sighed, already feeling it was going to be a really long day.
"Someone looks like they finally got laid last night. Repeatedly." Dave's voice tore Mike from his inner musings.
"What?"
"Now, don't be shy, Mike. Tell me all about it. She must have been a real spitfire if she's worn you out like that."
"Shut up, Dave. I'm really not in the mood."
"It wasn't Vicki Nelson, was it? Though I always suspected she could be quite demanding in bed."
"Do yourself a favour and forget you even thought about it. And I'll try to forget you said it."
"C'mon, don't you wanna share, just guy to guy?"
"For the record, while I assure you I wasn't with Vicki last night, if I was and told you, we'd be both gutted like fish the moment she learned about it. And you can be certain she would."
"Not with Vicki then, huh? If not her, then who?"
"I'm trying to work here, Dave."
"Hey, I tell you about my adventures with dates."
"Without asking. No, scratch that. With me asking. For you not to."
"So who was she?"
"Dave, we have an open case we should be working. How about you shift some of that interest to that?"
Reluctantly Dave fished some file from the now open folder on Mike's desk and seemed to start reading. Mike silently breathed in relief.
"By the way, Mike, nice hickey you have there."
As soon as Dave's words registered, Mike's caffeine-induced heartbeat elevated to the speed where it became painful, while his chest began tightening. If Dave saw the marks on his neck and noticed they matched those on the victim...What possessed him to have that folder open like that anyway? He knew there were photos in there.
In a blind panic, as he was already trying in vain to think of some believable excuse, his hand flew to his neck. And paused. From what he could feel, the shirt collar was still safely hiding any evidence. Just to be sure, he tightened his tie a bit before glancing back at Dave. Who had put the file back on the desk already and was currently walking to his own desk, chuckling. But not before letting Mike hear a muttered, "Works every time."
If someone up there wanted him to know he messed up, maybe they should be notified he got the message. Because he wasn't sure he'd survive another hint.
III
After the first few hours at work, he wasn't sure exactly how he was holding up. He'd have loved to be able to attribute it to his willpower but even that seemed to be running short. What was worse, he still hadn't managed to figure out what to do with the case on his hands.
Sure, it would have been easy to just push it around the desk until it turned cold so he could do his best to forget about it. After all a working girl, known to have a drug addiction, killed on the streets was hardly a high publicity case. Sure, Crowley showed interest in the case for a while but the longer it went unsolved and the more differences there were between this and Bridewell, the less attention the case got.
If only it worked like that.
Hard as it was to admit to himself, unless he came up with some way to make the case seem solved, there was no way to put a lid on it. Sure, it would eventually make its way to the archives but it would be in the system, always coming up whenever someone looked there. Sooner or later someone would pick it up again. Whether because some rookie would want to prove himself or because some new analysis technique was developed.
And whenever that happened there would always be the risk of it coming back to vampires. After all, they were still going to be around then.
He sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. When he looked up again, he saw Kate standing next to his desk.
"Dave is telling everybody who wants to hear, all about your endeavours last night, you know," she started conversationally.
"Is he? Maybe I should go and listen. It might be an interesting piece of fiction given that I never told him anything." He did his best to sound nonchalant and took a sip of coffee.
"Oh, so there wasn't an orgy with four exotic dancers and the prima ballerina of the Moscow Ballet?" Drinking definitely didn't prove a good idea. A minute later Mike managed to stop coughing. "I take that as no?"
"No, definitely not. First of all, I don't do orgies. Second, I didn't even know the Russian ballet was in town."
"Pity. If it were the truth, it would have really spiced up the station's rumour mill. I guess it was just a night with Vicki then?"
"Kate, really..."
"No, no problem. It's not like I'm going to tell anyone." She paused for a moment, looking absently at his desk. "So did you hand him over like you planned?"
This time Mike thankfully wasn't drinking anything. Still, he paled at the question, looking at Kate warily.
"What?"
"You know, the 'hypothetical' you talked to me about. Connected with your case." She indicated the open file on the desk and he suddenly wondered if all his internal organs turning into ice were possible. Because curiously enough they were doing their best trying.
"I don't know what you're talking about. It was just hypothetical. I told you."
She gave him a knowing smile. This couldn't be good.
"Sure. Of course. But I was just wondering how it went. The connection is pretty obvious if you think about it and know enough, you know."
'Please, God, I know I messed up big time this time, but I'm really trying to make up for that. Is designing a personalised version of the Apocalypse for me really the most suitable punishment?'
"And do you know enough, Kate? I thought I was working this case with Dave, not you."
"Sure. But he told me when he saw you together. He thought it was strange how you were pleasantly chatting with him at the station."
"Did he?"
"Yeah. You have to admit, it looked pretty odd. First you see the guy at the scene, you both think he's off and you should check him out. Then he disappears as soon as he notices you're interested in him and the next time he resurfaces you're chatting like old buddies and you let him go without a second thought."
Mike wondered what exactly one had to do to have the ground do them a favour and swallow them whole in a timely manner.
"Then you come to me with that question," Kate continued, apparently oblivious of his reaction. "And a bit later you're looking into the guy's background like crazy even if most of it comes up empty. You have to admit, it wasn't that hard to connect the dots."
"Well, I guess it proves just how you earned Detective, Kate."
She smiled. "But you never told me how it all went."
"It didn't. He disappeared without trace before I could do anything."
"Ah. Sorry to hear that. I guess I don't need to wonder anymore what put you in such a foul mood."
"Tell me about it. And I have nothing to explain why his case should be considered solved."
"You mean you can't just start a search for that Mendoza guy?"
"I wish. He was..." 'Oh, what the hell?' "He worked for some kind of secret service research group. Only at some point he snapped. You know, convinced himself that for the good of everyone he should cleanse the world or some such. Apparently he didn't think working girls have the right to live."
"Ouch. And this guy is still out there somewhere?"
"He forgot more about lying low and changing identities than we all together ever learned. The guys who wanted to get him were closing on him. Of course they didn't want to scare him off by approaching him directly but maybe they caught up with him again."
"Not very comforting considering what he's capable of. How did he do that to the girl, anyway? If I didn't know better I'd think she was attacked by a vampire."
'Yeah, wouldn't it be nice if I could say I know better as well.'
"Well, yeah, that. Apparently, he had some idea of 'cleansing' the girl or something. He drugged her." Mike pointed at the autopsy report, thankful he had something to support his tall tale. "And then he bled her out. Possibly with something resembling a dialysis machine. I told you he worked in research. Note how he chose the placement of the device to get the maximum speed of bleeding. Seems like he had some idea that her blood was dirty or something. You know, he was treating the girl like kosher food."
"That's just sick."
"Tell me about it. But he also needed to prepare for that quite a bit, I'd imagine. Idea like that wouldn't go smoothly when improvised. So there is a chance they'll catch up with him before he repeats the stunt."
"I guess that's the best we can hope for. If I think of anything to explain the case with, I'll let you know."
"Thanks, Kate."
"Don't mention it. What friends are for, right?"
III
To say he had a moral hangover would be putting it mildly. While every moment at work was torture, it wasn't until his talk to Kate that reality really hit him.
Was he really so blinded by whatever he wanted to believe in that he managed not to notice what was obvious even to a bystander? Was his so-called righteousness really so comfortable that he didn't care to stop and think what he was doing? And if so, what really made him so different from all those extremists? After all, every fanatic thinks he is right and is fighting for the only truth.
He closed the file on his desk with a sigh. He was getting nowhere anyway. Then he shifted the files on his desk a few times. Neither arrangement was particularly helpful but at least it felt like he wasn't just sitting there.
"Considered doing any actual work today, Detective Celluci? You might be surprised how little can be achieved in this line of work by sitting around mindlessly."
Mike turned in his chair to see Crowley standing behind him. He was about to respond when he heard Dave's voice on his side.
"It's not really his fault, Captain. He had a really busy night." Briefly, Mike wondered if shooting his partner was really such a big offence. After all, Vicki got out of that one pretty easily, and given the circumstances he really shouldn't be blamed if he tried.
"Do I look like I'm interested in anyone's private life, Detective Graham? The only thing I care about is that my officers are present at work, not just bodily, and are capable of doing their job. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Then perhaps if Detective Celluci is done daydreaming, you could both go to Ridelle Ave. We have a new scene there, seems like domestic violence got out of hand. And Detective Celluci?"
"Yes?"
"I would appreciate it if you either organised your free time differently or made sure your ways of spending it don't interfere with your ability to work the next day."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"On your way then."
Approximately a minute later the door of her office slammed shut.
III
"So what's the story here?" Mike shot the question at the uniform almost as soon as they got to the door.
"Tragic one, really. Jill Gordon, thirty-two, lived with an abusive husband, John Gordon, thirty-four. He tried to beat her up again. She stated that she did a pregnancy test earlier this morning and it came back positive, giving her the incentive to try to get out of the abusive situation. She fought the husband and ran from the house, throwing a vase at him to get time to escape. She asked a neighbour, Norma Farrell, seventy-one to help her. It was Farrel who called us to the scene. Mrs. Gordon obviously had signs of a recent beating so we went to try and question John Gordon." The man paused.
"And?"
"And we found him lying near the entrance. The vase hit him straight on the head. He was already cooling when we got there."
"Okay then, lead the way." The officer nodded. Just as they started walking, he turned to Mike.
"It's an awful twist, isn't it? When I took the job...I mean, I know only an idiot would think the world is black and white but something like that...It's just awful. I can't imagine how you can stand to work in this department.
"You get used to it," Mike responded automatically before running the words through his head again. "And you're right. Only an utter idiot would think the world was black and white."
He sighed as they went into the building. He could only hope they would be done here in a reasonable time. He had a feeling there was something he would need to do in the evening.
TBC