Chapter 32

Turbulence

Intro song: Almost Lover, A Fine Frenzy

"Are you sure you want to do this, Beth? You don't have to - I can tell you, it's him."

"I need to see for myself," she countered, projecting a courage she did not feel, the dread coiled in her stomach like a snake waiting to strike. "I need to... to see him."

"I get it." Guillermo Gasol gently pulled back the sheet covering the body, just enough for the head and shoulders to appear, revealing the lifeless form of Mick St. John, his neck slashed.

"What hap– what happened, Guillermo?" Beth whispered, feeling like her grief was choking her, making it hard to get the words out. Her hands cramped from the effort of holding them in tightly-closed fists at her sides, when what she longed to do was reach out to touch him, stroke his hair, wake him up...

The coroner's assistant shook his head. "From what I can tell, they ambushed him. The silver bullets hit him and took him down. I could feel that he was surprised." Guillermo said bitterly, struggling with his own emotions at the death of his friend. He hesitated, not sure how much Beth could handle.

"There's more. Tell me, Guillermo. I know you can see it. I want to know it all."

She was right. Beth deserved to know everything. He swallowed hard and plunged ahead. "There were 5 or 6 of them. They ambushed him with the silver bullets and then, when he collapsed, they tried to decapitate him. He fought them so they didn't have time to finish the job but the damage was done. He was almost dead when they had to run away. The cause of death? It's a combination of silver and exsanguination…They poisoned him and bled him out at the same time," he added angrily. What he wouldn't give to get his hands – and fangs – on whoever had done this to Mick.

There was silence while Beth struggled to process what he'd told her. Finally, she found her voice. "Can you leave me alone with him for a few minutes? Please?"

"Yeah, sure Beth. But, because of what he is, you know, I have to handle his... arrangements... soon. I'll be back in about half an hour." He patted her sympathetically on the shoulder and started for the door, but then turned back. He had something he needed to say.

"Beth, I just wanted to say that Mick loved you so much and you made him really happy. I hope you know that." With that, Guillermo left quietly, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes.

Instead of comforting her, the words cut through Beth like a knife. 'If only' and 'why didn't I' were swirling inside her head like a raging tornado. She could have – should have - prevented this. The distraught woman wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, hugging herself. The ache was so overwhelming, she felt like her heart would burst from her chest. Her worst fear was realized - she had lost her guardian angel. "Why did you go, Mick?! ... She dropped her head and began to weep in abject despair. "Mick... why... I... I can't... do this... I can't..."

"Beth... Beth...!"

Coming awake with a jarring start, awareness of familiar surroundings seeped into Beth's consciousness. Most welcome of all was Mick's face, hovering worriedly over her. Oh, thank god. He was safe, in bed with her. It was just a dream. No, it was a nightmare! "Sorry," she managed to choke out.

Mick crooked his forefinger under her chin, raising her frightened face to his worried one. "Bad dream?" he asked gently. Her pulse was still racing, but he could feel her start to relax. His free hand swiped at the tears still running down her cheeks.

Beth hadn't even realized she'd been crying. Instinctively, she snuggled against him, taking comfort from the solid feel of him. "I'll say," she whispered into his chest.

Mick folded his arms around her. "Tell me."

"I don't want to talk about it." Her voice was flat, signaling that there was no room for negotiation. She hadn't meant to be so blunt, but the image of him dead on a morgue table was too fresh in her mind. She just could not bring herself to talk about her nightmare right now, especially not with Mick. "I– I just have a bad feeling about you going with Carl and I think it was on my mind," she said instead.

The vampire tightened his embrace, and kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent. She didn't need to say any more. He had sensed - and understood - her fear. "So that's what your nightmare was about. I'm sorry, Beth. I don't want to go, I have to," he answered honestly. "But I really don't think this is going to be the big deal you are worrying about. Honestly." He could tell that his words weren't having the desired impact so he tried to lighten the mood.

"Hey... I promise to be careful - and I'm prepared. I'm not going out in the sun, I'll take blood. I won't be alone. And I promise not to let the car get blown up again."

She raised her head, meeting his intense hazel gaze. "No heroics? Just routine P.I. work…"

He nodded. "Yep, I'm just a consultant. Carl's the lead. And that's how it's gonna be."

Beth was still not persuaded... but she could tell he meant what he said, even if the reality might be out of his control. "I guess that's the best I can get." She smiled faintly, her hand stroking his face this time. "I'll take it. I don't even care if the car blows up as long as you're not in it!" Her hand stopped, resting on his cheek. "I know I'm not being rational about this and I'm sorry for all the drama. I just can't shake this feeling."

He turned on his side, pulling her back down on the soft cotton sheets, and tucking the coverlet back around her. "You need rest. Tell you what... how about, when I get home - and, Beth, I am coming home - you and I do something fun. Whatever you want."

Beth snaked her hand up to stroke the back of his neck. "It's a date," she agreed, stretching to kiss him. "And, you'd damn well better bring your ass home." She broke away suddenly to exclaim, "Bowling! I think we should go bowling. They have all-night bowling alleys here. And you'll have to bowl blindfolded to give me a chance."

Mick laughed. "Bowling it is." He knew what it cost her to joke when she was this worried, and he loved her for it.

She kicked off the covers to wrap her arms around him, her bare body pressing into her lover hungrily, leaving no doubt as to what she wanted. Twenty intense minutes later, Beth Turner was on her side, fast asleep, her nightmares temporarily vanquished.

"Why is it that you seem to be incapable of executing a simple plan, John?" Christophe Durand's voice was muted, but, like the low growl of an attack dog, it was all the more threatening for the lack of volume.

I'd rather he shouted, Giles thought. He had just delivered the message that the planned attack on Durin Scanlin, targeted because he was now the interim head of the New York City vampire clan, had failed miserably.

"Christophe, we planned this very carefully, but, as you recall..." he hesitated.

The road he was about to go down with Christophe was a dangerous one. He has seen first-hand what happened to people who pushed back with the Crucis leader. Fuck it. "As you recall, I wanted to wait a few days until they were a little less on their guard in order to prevent what just happened." Unconsciously, he held his breath, waiting for the reaction that was sure to come.

Durand eyed the much shorter man for a long moment, the air laden with tension. Unexpectedly, he smiled. "I'm going to forgive you that, John. I know that you have had a series of... misfortunes. The team in New York is surely dead, even though we have not recovered their bodies, and I know that the responsibility for all those young, promising lives must weigh heavily on your conscience. Imagine how you would feel if that were Rebecca." His steely blue eyes regarded his colleague evenly.

Giles stiffened at what he perceived to be an implied threat. Stay calm. Think of Rebecca. He fought to keep his anger out of his voice. "Please don't say things like that, Christophe. I do feel responsible for those men, but I believe I discharged my responsibilities appropriately. We had accurate information as to the vampires' movements and the size of the party from our mole, and the plan was a good one. It was the execution that fell short - and I'm not responsible for that! You need to take that up with Davidson - maybe his training methods need to be improved."

Durand nodded almost imperceptibly. "I will, you can be sure of that, John. We have lost some excellent operatives - just when we need them most. They will be difficult to replace. You may have to adjust accordingly. Are you prepared to do so?"

"I will be. I've already started reworking the plans."

"Good. We will only get one shot at this, you know, and it must be perfectly executed. Dominoes must fall in order - and that means everyone must be ready and able to do his or her job."

"I will take care of my end. Just..." Giles clenched his fists unconsciously.

"Yes?"

"Just don't bring up Rebecca again, all right? If you have an issue with my performance, that's on me, not her. You have to be pleased with her work. Please don't connect her to my actions."

Durand regarded his subordinate impassively. "I will take that under advisement, John. I know you love Rebecca; I support that. Just be sure you are not letting that get in the way of your effectiveness. Uxor formosa et vinum sunt dulcia venena."

Giles groaned to himself. Christophe's penchant for Latin quotes was beginning to be an irritant. When no explanation was forthcoming, he asked, "And, that means...?"

"A man's work stands on its own merit," Durand explained. Silently, he reflected upon the real translation. 'Beautiful women and wine are sweet venom.' This venom may soon need to be sucked out, John...

Mick brooded in front of his computer, reading the latest update from Logan on the progress - or lack thereof - he and Ryder were having in tracking down the mysterious nurse from New York.

Sex between he and Beth seemed to have the opposite effect on the two of them - she relaxed and went to sleep, while he became more agitated, prowling the penthouse as if he could somehow find, within these walls, the answers to the issues he was dealing with.

He fired off an e-mail to Logan and Ryder, directing them to check the national registry of nurses for possible matches. Maybe, just maybe, she might try to re-establish her nursing credentials in another state. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, scrubbing at his scalp with both hands. Face it, you're grasping at straws.

"Well, when all you have are straws..." the vampire muttered.

He did have a response from Gabrielle Sinclair to his request for her to check out Rebecca Anderson's address in New York, brightening his night considerably. That happy feeling lasted approximately thirty seconds, until he started reading her account of the attack on Durin Scanlin and her response.

Mick had been uneasy about the plan from the beginning - and the fact that they were attacked by an organized gang only reinforced to him that his skepticism was well-founded, even though the scheme had, apparently, yielded a captive for questioning. Clearly, he had underestimated Gabrielle's skills.

"Wouldn't wanna be you, buddy," he said with a grimace, scrolling through the rest of the lengthy message. He snickered aloud at the postscript - a laundry list of ruined items for which Gabby intended to have Victoria reimburse her.

"What's so funny?"

Mick jumped at the sound of Beth's voice - he had been so focused on his e-mails that he didn't detect her coming into the office. Some vampire you are… Quickly, he switched off the computer. He felt certain that Beth and Gabby would like one another if they had an opportunity to meet - but Beth had yet to bring up again the topic of the female who had answered his phone in New York and he didn't want a discussion about an e-mail from Gabrielle Sinclair to start them down that road tonight.

"Just an update from Logan," he lied guiltily. "For some reason, he thinks that I'm interested in how he's doing in World of Warcraft."

Beth wandered over to him. "Hmmm. Could that be because you used to play too?" She laughed at Mick's startled look. "Hey, you aren't the only one with detective skills around here. Logan said you were pretty good...but not as good as him. Is that true?"

She leaned over to kiss his neck. "Am I sleeping with the wrong vampire?" she breathed into his ear, touching it lightly with her tongue. "I have a reputation to uphold and if you aren't the best vampire in these parts..."

"I'm the best," Mick growled, spinning his chair around to grab her around the waist and pull her into his lap. "I'm just not the best geek."

Beth twisted to put her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. "Okay, I can accept that. So, why are you still up? Don't you need to be in your freezer?"

"Don't you need to be in your bed?" he countered. "I can get by on a lot less freezer time than you can lack of sleep."

She yawned so widely that Mick could hear the tendons in her jaw creak. "You've got a point," she admitted. "Much as I'd love to keep you company, I have to prepare myself for a day of Ben Talbot."

Mick stiffened at the name and opened his mouth to make a snide comment, then snapped it shut again. In his mind, Talbot's use of Beth as a bargaining chip to get him to go to San Diego with Carl Davis was proof of the man's untrustworthiness. This was not the time for a discussion about the relative merits - or shortcomings - of the ADA, but he resolved to have a talk with Beth soon about finding a different job. After this trip...

Instead, he said, "Well, then you need all the rest you can get. I'll go get in the freezer if you go back to bed."

"Deal." Beth hopped up off Mick's lap with a furtive glance at the dark computer screen. Whatever it was that he didn't want her to read was, she decided, definitely something she should see. You aren't the only investigator in this penthouse, Mick St. John, she thought as they left the room arm-in-arm. I intend to know everything. For your sake.

End Song: Happy, Leona Lewis