Chapter 52

Through the Storm

Intro song: Save Me, Jelly Roll

Three days! How can it be three days already?! Beth looked down at Mick's still form & shook her head in disbelief. It felt like she was living in a dream – or, more accurately, a nightmare - as she continued her rhythm of one hour in the cold room watching over the injured vampire, and one hour warming up in Josef's study. Yesterday evening, she'd fallen asleep in front of the fire and no one had awakened her. When the exhausted young woman had finally stirred, four hours later, she was in a panic and no amount of reassurances from the vampires that Mick hadn't been left alone, and she needed the rest, had made her feel any better. She was determined not to let that happen again, so now she paced and drank coffee to keep herself awake whenever she was out of the cold room.

As they moved through their third day, the group at the vineyard - vampires and humans alike – had settled into a rhythm of sorts as they watched and waited for the injured vampire to recover or... No one wanted to follow that line of thinking.

When the forty-eight hour mark came and went, with another long night behind them, it had been Gabrielle - having made a point to spend as much time as possible with Beth in the freezer room - who kept her from despair.

"I know you're anxious to see improvement, Beth. We all are. But let me put it in perspective. Victoria had much less silver in her system - and no injuries - and it still took her a day and a half to wake up. You just have to be patient. The fact that he hasn't gotten any worse is a good sign." This last statement had been pure conjecture on Gabrielle's part, but she had desperately wanted to give the young woman hope.

"Thank you, Gabby." Beth had impulsively reached out to hug the vampire who, after a brief, startled moment, had returned the embrace.

Dr. Spector had said essentially the same thing to a restless, irritable Josef, with a much less appreciative response.

"Dammit, isn't there anything else that can be done?!"

"No, Mr. Kostan, there isn't. At least not as far as I know. Our only course of action is to keep him in the freezer and continue the blood transfusions to flush his system of toxins. Both of which we are doing. His pupils are still almost completely silver, which, I am learning, is probably a good gauge of the amount of silver poisoning in a vampire's system." He had winced and stopped, paralyzed with fear over the folly of selecting a word like 'learning' in connection with treating Mick St. John...at least in front of this particular vampire.

Josef had caught the slip, jerking his head up at the word and standing there for a long moment, fighting for control, his hands curled into tight fists. Finally, he had relaxed and smiled coldly at the physician, his dark eyes glowing in a face that had grown increasingly pale and worn over the past forty-eight hours.

"I'll forgive you that one, doctor. As Beth pointed out, you are helping Mick - when we couldn't. I am...indebted...to you." Kostan had turned his back on the physician then, resuming his now-constant position, standing at the heavily tinted windows, staring out at the beautiful vineyard grounds, bathed in golden late-afternoon light.

Spector had hesitated, eyeing Josef's back, the shoulders set and tensed, as if prepared to take a blow. Don't be a fool, John. The physician in him took over, however and before he realized it, he had blurted out, "Mr. Kostan, it's none of my business, but from what I know of vamps in working with Victoria, I think you need to be in your freezer."

"You're right. It's none of your business." Josef didn't move from his position, speaking to the window as he said, "We'll talk again later. And, I know it's none of my business...but why don't you go get some sleep. You look like you could use it." His tone was sarcastic and the message was clear. You aren't my friend and you don't get to offer me unsolicited advice.

There was something about this man that the billionaire didn't like. He couldn't put his finger on it and he had no proof that the physician had been anything other than helpful and committed to the vampire community. Maybe he was just transferring his feelings about this whole affair unjustly to Spector. Still, he would bear watching...

As the long day wound down into evening, it was again Gabrielle who finally convinced an exhausted Beth to relinquish some of the responsibility for watching over Mick. Coming into the freezer room where the young woman maintained her cold, lonely vigil over the unmoving vampire, Gabby sank down on the bench beside her.

"Any change?" Her vampire senses told her there was none, but she wanted to get Beth talking.

"No, nothing. I- I've been talking to him, but he's not-," her voice faltered, then steadied. "He's not answering...not yet, that is." She placed special emphasis on the last word, but a single tear sliding down her cold face belied her optimism.

"You've been awake for almost three days now, Beth, aside from that four hour nap. How long do you think you can keep this up?"

"As long as I need to." Beth regarded the female vampire steadily, her blue eyes bloodshot and fatigued. Somehow, she did not feel the animosity toward Gabrielle that she had toward Simone when the same topic had been raised. Maybe I'm just getting tired. No, it was more than that. Simone liked Mick, but Beth had a clear sense that Gabrielle loved him. Somehow, she didn't feel threatened by that; instead, it was a comfort. She couldn't explain it, but she trusted the female vampire.

Gabby put a cold hand over Beth's mittened one. "Listen to me. This could go on for days - literally, days. There is no possible way for you to be able to maintain this pace. You'll get sick or collapse - maybe just when Mick needs you most." She squeezed the young woman's hand through the thick knitting. "Beth, no one can replace you. I'm just going to ask you to allow us to help share the load. Let Josef and Logan and Simone and me take over some of your time. We all loved-." She caught herself, cleared her throat and finished softly, "I didn't mean to say it that way. We all love Mick - and we can help you take care of him. Watch over him. Let us."

What convinced Beth were the tears she saw sliding down Gabby's face as she finished. She found herself wanting to comfort the vampire. Could your life get any more insane? she thought wonderingly, touching Gabrielle's shoulder comfortingly.

Gabby sniffed and swiped at her nose, laughing through her tears as she shook her head disgustedly. "I'm supposed to be the one reassuring you, not the other way around."

"The fact that you care this much does reassure me. And that means you and Josef and Logan care about Mick, so yes, I'll take you up on your offer." Beth smiled at an obviously surprised Gabby. "I am tired," she admitted.

"Beth, that's great! Selfishly, I want you around and functional when Mick needs you. He's not still alive because of what John or Guillermo did, you know - he's still alive because of you."

"Not Simone, though."

"What?" Gabby was startled. Simone had been nothing but involved and helpful since she had arrived at the vineyard. She frowned. Was there some conflict she didn't know about?

"Not Simone." Beth repeated firmly. "I just- I have my reasons. I would just feel better if it were vampires, Gabby. You would be able to catch changes much more quickly than humans could. Probably better than I could," she admitted ruefully.

"I don't know about that. You seem to be pretty... connected... to this guy." Gabby nodded toward the unmoving vampire, her black hair catching the glow from the recessed spotlights overhead. "And, in my 120 years, I've never seen any vampire love a human the way he does you."

"Then, you didn't see Josef with Sara." Beth's face saddened at the memory of the elder vampire's heartache.

"No. No, I didn't. But I know Mick loves you more than anything. And he'll have my head - and Josef's - if we let anything happen to you before he wakes up. So... go get some sleep. Maybe he'll be ready to wake up by the time you get up." Gabby did a good job of hiding her doubts about that possibility as she looked encouragingly into Beth's exhausted blue eyes.

The young woman stood and stretched to loosen the kinks in her back from sitting so long in one position in the extreme cold. Clutching the sleeping bag around her, she looked down at the vampire on the bench. "Take care of him for me, Gabrielle."

"You know I will, Beth."

The young woman nodded and left the cold room, too drained to gather up the sleeping bag that dragged the ground after her. She felt like she was leaving a large chunk of her heart behind.

Gabrielle watched her go, then settled back on the mesh bench, pulling out her iPhone. May as well update V before the cold shuts my phone down... She paused in her text to glance up at the frost-encrusted vampire, his incision still a raw, red line on his gray skin. She didn't believe in prayer. Not anymore. But she could still hope. Come on, Mick. Heal. Wake up. For Beth…and for me.

The updated edition of the on-line L.A. Times stared up at Ben Talbot, taunting him with the unflattering headlines. Damn it! Three days after the…disturbance…in San Diego and the firestorm had, so far, shown no sign of dying down. The bastards had completely butchered his carefully prepared statement, chopping it up until it made him sound like an ineffective idiot, heading up a vigilante gang of investigators. The L.A. Daily News hadn't been any better. He could almost see them salivating as they smelled the blood of a mortally-wounded ambitious public servant.

Talbot was savvy enough to know that this crisis would eventually be replaced by some newer, juicier tidbit - this was Los Angeles, after all. The screaming headlines of 'Ambush in the Desert' would be replaced by the flavor of the week – some new antic by a Hollywood or political figure, a local road crisis, a new crime scene…But, he also knew that headlines were forever, always available to be dredged up by an opponent or someone with an ax to grind. He felt like each of these news articles represented another nail in the coffin being built around his career.

To make matters worse, there was Carl Davis and his threats. Each time he clicked on a news update, he half-expected to see the detective's allegations of blackmail and quest for personal gain emblazoned on the page.

The ADA involuntarily clenched his jaw. He cursed the Dean Foster pictures, the list, every piece of data now in St. John's file, the man himself…anything and everything that had prompted him to fixate on the P.I.. He hadn't meant for anything bad to happen to anyone. He knew - he just knew - that Mick St. John was hiding something. Something big. And if he was like most, spending enough time in the presence of a trained professional like Carl would have eventually brought it to light. That was all he'd been looking for - though a good part of him had also hoped that St. John's penchant for finding obscure evidence could have lead them to the H.E.M. Brotherhood - and to Tejada, who was truly responsible for Josh's murder.

Talbot had been as shocked and surprised as Davis and the rest of his staff at what had happened, though he had tried hard to hide that fact. Calm, cool, collected, in control... That was what Edward always preached to him - the public persona that he needed to project.

"People need to believe that they can count on you - whether it's true or not. And they don't care what you have to do to keep them safe, no matter how many times they say they do. They just don't want to get their hands dirty." He'd heard that over and over from his mentor.

That coaching had never been put to the test more than now. He had buried his own horror over what had happened to St. John and the border guard under a veneer of brisk competency and square-jawed determination to bring the perpetrators of this heinous crime to justice. The media, however, was making it increasingly difficult to keep that mask in place. If this kept up much longer, he would need help. He hated asking for favors or assistance, but it might be time to talk with his mentor. He was loathe, however, to admit to Edward Garfield - the only person in the world whose opinion really mattered to him - just how badly he had fucked up. Edward would pull no punches when he told him what he thought, and Ben couldn't help but think that he would be diminished in the older man's eyes.

Give it to the end of the week, he told himself. If something else hadn't taken its place in the news by then, he'd call Edward. Unconsciously, he crossed his fingers.

"I need more time." Victoria sat in front of William Roosevelt, in a position she rarely found herself in and didn't enjoy. Asking for a favor.

"Victoria," Roosevelt rumbled in his deep, sonorous voice, "I'm surprised at you. You told Nina that you would be prepared to give your report - with proof - to the full council tonight. She has arranged to have everyone here. On what grounds can I request a delay? Your failure to force this human hostage to cooperate?" He leaned his stocky torso back in his chair and regarded his friend gravely. "I think you know how that would be received."

"There's no choice, William." Victoria compressed her lips into a thin line as she frowned back at the silver-haired vampire. "We need this man's testimony to show the council what we are up against - and I need more time to get it."

"What makes you think that you can get him to confess in a day, when you've had two days with him without success?"

"Because I know men. We've had two 'sessions' now, and he won't withstand a third. That I can promise you." The beautiful vampire leaned forward to sit her glass of blood down on the antique chest that doubled as a coffee table in her office. "This is too important to make snap decisions without all the facts, William. Our safety - hell, our future - depends on this! Have you heard about what happened to Mick St. John in California?"

"Yes." Roosevelt scowled darkly. "You aren't suggesting that the attack on Durin, and the one on this St. John are connected, are you?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting, William. Gabrielle has kept me informed of what's happening in California and it isn't good. If what happened to Mick St. John were more wide-spread… Well, if I'm right, then we are facing a deadly, organized threat to our existence. And I know I'm right."

He sank back into his chair as the impact of her words washed over him. He was almost as old as Victoria and he had lived through persecution and pogroms - and he had no wish to go back through that hell again. If she was right... Abruptly, he reached a decision.

"All right, Victoria. One more day. I'll get you that much - but, no more. In twenty-four hours, you need to be able to put proof in front of us that Crucis, or some other organization, is doing all this."

"Thank you, William." The elegant vampire smiled, reaching over to put a hand on his knee.

Roosevelt squeezed her hand, then removed it from his knee. "I'm not doing this for you, Victoria, I'm doing it for the entire vampire community. But I'm warning you - don't make me look bad." His blue eyes bored into hers. "Have proof."

With a nod to William, Victoria pushed herself up from the chair and hurried from the room. You'll have your proof, she thought, picturing the frightened prisoner awaiting her.

As the ocean breeze teased her hair away from her face, Beth smiled across the blanket at Mick, thinking how handsome he looked in the early evening light. The only reminders of his recent frightening brush with death was a not-quite-invisible line where the incision had been - and a voracious appetite for blood.

Beth almost felt like the scars she carried were more lasting than his. The sound of his screams still seemed to echo in her ears and through her dreams. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see him as he had looked when she ran into the kitchen that horrible night - his body bloodied and torn, his eyes shining disks of silver. She shivered at the memory.

"Cold?" Mick asked, solicitous as always. Settling the thermos from which he had been sipping blood, down into the sand, he stripped off his jacket and leaned over to drape it tenderly around her shoulders. His fingers slid down her arms to her wrists, his strong hands easily encircling them to pull her in close to him.

Beth snuggled in against his chest, enjoying the feeling of being close as his lips pressed down on her hair. She closed her eyes with a smile, inhaling his distinctive Mick-scent.

Suddenly, he tensed, raising his head to look toward the ocean.

"What is it, Mick?" Alarmed, Beth opened her eyes and sat up, following his gaze. She gasped in horror at the water sweeping toward them. "What's happening?!" she screamed.

"I don't know!" Mick shouted back. "I've never seen the tide come in like this! Come on, Beth!"

Frantically, he grabbed her by the hand, yanking her to her feet. He began to run across the sand with her, urging her to go ever faster each time he looked over his shoulder at the rapidly approaching water.

Beth was afraid to look, afraid to breath. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as fast as she could. Instinctively, she knew that to fall would mean death. Keep running, keep running... They couldn't have gone through all that they had endured only to drown in some freak storm! God couldn't be that cruel, could he?

The water started to curl around their feet just as they reached the retaining wall for the boardwalk. Mick grabbed Beth and threw her bodily up the twelve feet to the walkway. To safety.

"Hurry, Mick!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet, her eyes widening in horror at the huge wave barreling down on them.

He tried. She could see the muscles in his arms tighten with effort as he fought to hold onto the wall when the water hit, but it was useless. His fingertips grazed hers in one last attempt to reach her, shouting, "Beth, don't let me drown!" She was blinded by the wall of salt water that hit her. Coughing and sputtering, her eyes burning, she frantically shook her head to clear her vision. The wave had receded...and he was gone.

"Mick! No!" she screamed, coming bolt upright in the bed, sweating and panting as if she had just run a marathon. Disoriented, she looked wildly around for the beach, seeing instead the guest bedroom at Josef's vineyard home, early morning light beginning to seep into the room from around the edges of the heavy draperies.

Something was wrong. Mick needed her! Beth jumped up, already fully clothed. She had been loath to change out of them the few times she allowed herself to actually lie down and sleep, always afraid that something would happen, that Mick would need her... Now, she thanked her lucky stars that she had. Sprinting down the hall, she skidded into the freezer room, startling the vampires there.

Gabrielle, who had just taken over for a yawning Logan, put out a steadying hand to catch her before she fell. "What's wrong?" Her face betrayed her concern for the wild-eyed young woman.

"Mick, is he...? Unable to get the words out, Beth frantically brushed past Gabby to get to Mick, almost afraid to look at him after her dream. Please god, let this not be another premonition! His cry not to let him drown, as he drifted toward death before his surgery, had haunted her waking moments. Had that prompted her nightmare? She shuddered.

"Beth, he's just the same." Logan tried to calm her. "He's had a few more hallucinations but nothing unusual. Dr. Spector came in about twenty minutes ago and checked him and hung more blood. He's fine. I mean, not fine, but...well...oh hell, you know what I meant." The flustered vampire closed his mouth and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

Gabrielle smiled at him and moved over to Beth, standing still as a statue next to Mick, her eyes taking in the slight rise and fall of his chest with each breath. "I think what Logan is trying to say is that there is no change. We have all taken turns and, I promise you, he hasn't been alone at all. We just didn't expect you for another hour or two." She peered closely at the young woman's white face. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I thought I had," Beth confessed, shivering in the cold as she bent over Mick's bench. In her haste to get to him, she had neglected to put on any of her cold weather gear. Clad as she was, the cold in the room was numbing.

Slowly, she put out her hand to touch his cold cheek and leaned in to kiss him, her warm breath scattering the tiny particles of frost that had formed on his mouth. Beth closed her eyes, pretending that Mick was just sleeping, that he would wake up when she kissed him...only to open them to the same motionless figure. She straightened with a discouraged sigh. Yet...something seemed different.

"Beth, you need some warm clothes - and some breakfast." Logan had made it his job to watch over her for the past several days, ensuring she had enough to eat and drink, urging her to rest, collecting warm clothing for her to wear during her freezer vigils...

"You two go ahead, I'll be right behind you."

Logan opened his mouth to protest, but Gabby, who recognized that Beth needed some time alone with Mick, was quicker. "Come on, Logan. I need your help for a minute on my computer. I've got this virus..."

With a wink at Beth, she shoved the reluctant vampire out of the room ahead of her, pausing only to deliver a caution. "Don't stay more than a couple of minutes, Beth. You aren't dressed for it."

Finally alone with Mick, Beth began to feel foolish for reacting the way she had to a dream. Still, it had seemed so real...

"Mick, please wake up. I need you," Beth crooned. Shivering, she bent down, closing her eyes to kiss him once more before leaving to get warmer clothes. She lingered, pouring every ounce of emotion she could into the act. Then... he's kissing me!

Her eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of Mick staring at her. His irises were still an eerie silver, but there was now a faint band of hazel visible around the edges. As she straightened, afraid to speak lest this, too, prove to be a dream, a hint of a smile appeared on the vampire's mouth and he whispered hoarsely, "Morning, Sunshine."

End song: Storm, Lifehouse