Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own any characters pertaining to the 2007-2008 TV series 'Moonlight'. All recognisable characters and texts belong to Ron Koslow and Trevor Munson.
Author's Note: I can only apologise profusely. I've been so, so sick and so busy and then lots of things happened and writer's block can go sit on a cactus. Then I got to see a show I have been in love with for years at very short notice (if you ever get the chance to see "Return to the Forbidden Planet" go go go!).
This chapter is so much shorter than I wanted it to be, but the next one I can assure you is half written and is one I am super excited for, at least! There's at least another after that before hitting the stride of episode three, where Robin should find herself entangled a little more closely than she would like. Gulp. The ending of this deviates ever so slightly from what actually occurs in the episode, but I tried to think realistically, and I'll explain a little more if anyone notices in the next author's note.
I still don't have a BETA, and despite my best efforts there are probably a few mistakes! I have also tried to keep Robin's outer and inner monologues quintessentially British, and everyone else using American terms (I HOPE!)
Reviews will taken along to the rather swanky Alchemist Bar in London for my birthday.
"Thank you for meeting with me," I pressed my fingers in to the bare flesh on my legs, crossing and uncrossing them until I settled with hooking one ankle over the other. Tentatively I gripped the handle of the rather obtuse mug, tugging it towards me. I watched my guest with trepidation; having not really known what to say, or how to broach the request, it had come out in a rather messy bundle of words, so much so it had been necessary to articulate the same words in a much slower response. I was not even really sure what I wanted, but Guillermo had been the first person I had met here, and despite the fact that the man had admittedly seen me without clothes on, there was a peculiar comfort in his presence.
His own mug, that I had shamelessly purchased for him whilst I waited, remained untouched – although to his credit, he did occasionally bring the rim to his lips before settling it down; there was, quite obviously, not even the hint of a smudge of coffee against his lips. "It's no problem." Guillermo looked a little uncomfortable; I had chosen a space far from the window, where the only beneficial light came from the hanging lamps overhead. I wondered curiously if he ever got out much; in all his scenes, not counting the last episode, he was buried in the depths of the morgue, and mentioned occasionally going to the cinema. That being said, he had once made a quip about 'vampire women' being difficult to understand.
"I know it shouldn't bother me," I began slowly, carefully trying to articulate my words in a way that would not seem utterly foolhardy. Most of my additional concentration was focused on regulating my heartrate. "But I still cannot remember what happened."
Guillermo did not so much as frown; he made an effort to feign being human by taking a sip of coffee, before linking his fingers together and resting them in his lap. "We couldn't find anything." He paused, seeming to deliberate on a point before ultimately deciding to share it anyway. "Mick and I did look, but everything I personally noted is written in that folder." He nodded to the file in the middle of the table. "You were in that unit for three hours before I heard you; I'd examined you briefly when you came in and set you in there to be –" He paused, and I grimaced – it was fairly obvious what he had been going to do had I not woken up, and I really did not want to think about it. Nodding, Guillermo continued. "There didn't seem to be anything in your lungs, which doesn't correlate with where they found you."
I blinked slowly at him, trying to remember how to speak and breathe simultaneously. "I thought you said you didn't – didn't cut me open." I should have called it for what it was, but 'autopsy' felt surreal, like it no longer belonged in this parallel. At least not my own. If he sensed my discomfort, he made no move to show it, instead choosing to shift a little in his seat. Clearly, he was just as uncomfortable being out with a human as I was discussing my death.
"I didn't. When you woke, your body should have expelled the river water; there's no possible way you would have been able to digest it. You were dry-heaving, suggesting that there was not anything in your stomach to begin with."
"They – you – thought I had drowned." I murmured and was met with a conclusive nod. It didn't make sense, but gradually the wheels had started to turn and I was met with an alarming realisation. "Was… was I dead before I hit the water?" I knew immediately how ridiculous I sounded, but whenever I tried to remember what had happened before waking up I was met with a brick wall. Concentrating hard enough, I could just about make out rain pounding as windscreen wipers worked overtime to clear the visibility in my car. The traffic was loud, not unusual for Brighton rush hour, but I had the nagging feeling that I was not in Brighton, that I had been visiting someone. There was no-one to contact, really, either; all the palatable friendships I had built up over the few fresh years I had been teaching no longer existed. The proverbial slate had been wiped clean as it were, and as far as childhood friends went – they were scattered across various towns and cities throughout the United Kingdom, even Rosie.
"There was no CCTV in the surrounding area." He appeared to be musing on something, reflecting cautiously without letting his eyes wander from my own. I swallowed heavily, nails making crescent-shaped dents in my palms as I tried not to fall back in to panic. I knew what he meant, however. The unease began to creep up from the very tips of my shoes, and I continued to shudder involuntarily. Get a grip, Robin. Please. You asked him here.
"Someone… someone tried to kill me." I had not intended to say it, but the truth was what both of us were thinking. Guillermo gave a small, almost indiscernible nod.
"It's certainly one theory. If they knew you, though – you've been back to work."
"They would have tried again," I replied, staring in to my still full mug of coffee and wondering whether or not I had the stomach to drink it. It all felt painfully surreal, but there was still something I was missing. It was right there – right on the very tip of my tongue. Fuzzy memories and brief flashes of sound and colours aside, it was as if someone had deliberately erased something, and the thought made me sick to my stomach no matter how impossible that would be. This was not X-Files, after all. "I don't remember. I can't remember."
When I looked up at Guillermo, he seemed puzzled. "As I said, I only did a preliminary exam. There were traces of something found along with the river water on your mouth, but it doesn't match anything in the databases I've checked." He stiffened slightly – just slightly, but it was at the precise moment I reached for the coffee and brought it to my lips. It was cool enough now to drink without flinching, yet it did not abate the bewilderment at his words. I found myself telling him I didn't take drugs, which came out more of a mutter than a decisive statement and would not ordinarily have fooled anyone. Guillermo, however, took it as gospel, and nudged his own mug, reiterating that if it had been anything recreational it would have come up on the computer.
By the time I replaced my mug on the table I had drunk over half. Guillermo appeared not to have even skimmed his, and although I knew he felt rude to have more or less ignored the drink I could hardly tell him that. Instead, I decided to ignore it, allowing the silence to fill the open space around us. Although the atmosphere typically reeked of awkwardness it was oddly peaceful; I felt an undisturbed comfort and an odd sense of safety being close to Guillermo – despite the obvious reasons as to why this was positively ridiculous. Swallowing nervously, I fiddled with the butterfly clip at the back of one of my lobe piercings. I had asked him here to try and gain some perspective, to take stock of my situation, but it had only ended up causing more problems.
"How's your foot?" He asked. I blanched, blinking rapidly until his words came in to focus.
"Oh – it's fine. It wasn't a deep puncture." Wincing, I instinctively rubbed the scar, balancing the foot in question across my lap. I had another, just above it; the two white marks glistened offensively against my pale skin. I was being irrationally blasé about the injury; it could have been considerably worse, and I was fortunate that my temporary lapse in common sense had not caused a more permanent detriment to my health. Guillermo regarded my response with one single raised eyebrow, head cocking gently to one side. I swallowed, bringing the mug to my lips once more, allowing the brief pregnant pause to fill the hole I had dutifully dug for myself. He knew precisely what it was, and precisely what had happened.
After a stark few, quiet moments Guillermo pulled out his phone, and I watched transfixed as he typed with little effort, using his left thumb to glide across the screen. "Mick said you saved that girl's life." Naturally the two spoke regularly, and no doubt word of this meeting would find its way back to him, but I could not be angry; it was my own behaviour that reeked of carelessness, and nothing within the vampire community remained a secret for long amongst old, close friends. Still, I could not withhold the grimace, and I bit the inside of my cheek as I tore my eyes away from his hands.
"I wanted to make sure she was okay. Daniel always made me… uneasy." I reflected solemnly. "I wouldn't have guessed him capable of this, though." Shaking my head, I finished the remainder of my coffee and pushed the mug to the side. After all of this was over, I would really need to reflect on my subpar acting skills.
"There's only one individual I can think of who could possibly help." Stowing his phone, Guillermo straightened himself again. "If you want, I can get in contact; if there is anything to find, he can find it." I knew without deliberation that it would have to be between Logan or Ryder; the thought of even more vampires being unwittingly brought in to my life stirred the uncomfortable sickness at the pit of my stomach, but I furiously banished it. The decision lay between total ignorance and potential danger, and a resolution to my appearance here – and I knew precisely which I preferred.
"It's worth trying." I finished the rest of my coffee. "Thank you." Besides, I had no-one to blame but myself; I could just have easily packed up my bags and moved myself across the pond, back home to my family and if that had not fixed the universe I found myself in, I could simply repeatedly apply for my old teaching post and wait for the world to settle back to what it was. The problem was, there remained a distinctively high probability that this would not happen. Curiously, as these thoughts processed, the temptation to reach out and touch the vampire across the table grew to an uncomfortable level.
Where did that come from?
As Guillermo moved to stand, offering an apology that he had to get home before his shift started, he brought the mug to his lips once more, before tilting it at such an angle the contents should have spilt down his chin. As it were, the mug was remarkably empty as he set it in the middle of the table. I rose to meet him, unable to hide the bewilderment as I shamefully scrutinised the mug, then met his gaze to see the same puzzlement shimmering back.
Without really thinking, and somewhat eager to diminish the suddenly tense atmosphere I had undoubtedly created, I leaned in and hugged him.
Guillermo's reaction was nothing to my own. I felt ice immediately replace the blood in my body as my feet rooted firmly and stubbornly to the ground and my heart most definitely skipped several beats. This was a normal goodbye, for me at least, to people I was friends with and as I rarely went out for coffee with anyone I did not consider to me more than an acquaintance; it was an instinctive and natural response to a farewell. If his response was anything to go by, this was anything but normal for him; despite only using one arm, I still felt the stoic, almost rigor mortis appeal in his stature. The coldness was something else, too; he was chilly, somewhat like touching the inside of a fridge. Biting my lower lip harder than I had intended, I swallowed nervously and stepped back.
"Thank you for coming." I spluttered semi-nervously, the sheer act of keeping my eyes perfectly level with his own a painful ordeal in itself.
Though it took him a moment, Guillermo quickly straightened himself and smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes.
As soon as he left, I covered my face with my hands.
What are you doing, child?
Whilst the knocks on my door were most certainly startling, it was little compared to the face of the visitor once it opened. Mick, usually tallied with immeasurable posture, held himself loosely, his hair wild and unkempt and his eyes showing every single year of his age. Over one shoulder slung a backpack, poorly zipped, and his clothes in general looked more than a little scruffy.
Although propriety stated that I should invite him in, I was unable to do little more than blink. For a few moments this seemed to suit him just fine, until something clicked in my mind and I realised just what had quite probably just happened. "Are you okay?"
Of course, he bloody isn't, Robin! You know why he's here.
Before I could choke out an unintelligible, garbled response, Mick shook himself out of his stupor. "I'm sorry to barge in on you, but I don't have my car; could you give me a lift somewhere?" I knew I could not ask what had happened to his car in such a moment, but I was slightly concerned with my inability to remember. If my assumption was correct, and judging by the frantic, sorry state of him I was, then he needed to reach Josef before parting ways to see Beth and Josh. To my knowledge he used his own car there and back, which made me wonder just where it was. Certain I would find out, and more concerned with the presence of a vampire paused nervously at the threshold, I brought myself back to reality with a decisive nod.
"Of course," I replied soundly, quickly shoving my feet in to some horrendously offensive pink fluffy slippers and grabbing my keys from the china bowl on the welcome table. I didn't ask why, nor did I spend an atrociously long time checking that I had turned all the appliances off – even if I had not used them. It had become a niggling habit, an exhausting and dangerous one, and only one I had taken up since that night at the hospital. I did not mention this to Mick, telling myself as we took to the lift that the key had definitely turned, and the handle refused to move downwards, and even though he started to speak again and offer a lacklustre thank you that I immediately saw right through, the niggling was still there.
Either way, Mick was visibly not in the mood for small talk; no sooner had we stepped outside the building did I lead him to the carpark, but not without missing the way he perked like a deer in headlights, frantically looking and flinching at the slightest of abnormal sounds. There was not really anything I could say, nor do that would offer even a veneer of comfort for the PI without disclosing information I should not have been privy to. In any case, it was strange seeing the illustrious Mick St. John in such a state; very rarely did he allow himself to be caught off guard, and when he did, it was only really evident he was panicking when he was alone. Still, the undeniable rush of being close to a vampire pathed way to the horrendous idea of sneaking glances as I drove. (If he had any comments as to the colour of my car, he kept them to himself – but then, perhaps that particular conversation may have broken the ice a little).
The drive was short, yet I had not missed how the entire time, though spent in silence, Mick was frantically texting on his phone. As I pulled in to an empty space, Mick seemed to remember I was there – yet again another peculiar demonstration from him that made me knit my eyebrows in confusion. Only hours earlier I had been spearheading a conversation with Guillermo about the circumstances surrounding my delightful trip to the county morgue, and now I was driving the vampire private investigator to a secluded space to meet yet another vampire, one of whom had a strong penchant for disposing of irritable liabilities.
"Thank you, Robin. I'll make it up to you." He offered a smile, that quite like his morbid friend did not quite reach his eyes. I swallowed nervously, wondering what I was going to do now knowing precisely where he was headed and just whom was in danger this very second. The vague, slightly fuzzy memory of Julia tied up on a scrappy looking sofa tied my stomach up in knots.
Mick, however, was not quite done. "Could I possibly ask for one more favour?" With his phone now squashed firmly in the inside pocket of his jacket, his full attention was on me, and it felt startlingly different to when he was driving. Realising how utterly ridiculous I looked gripping the steering wheel whilst the engine was off, I tried to look as natural as possible holding them atop of my knees.
"Sure, it's the least I can do really." Goodness knows how many lifts he had given me lately, but it was still not enough for the unease to dissipate quickly enough in his presence.
Unperturbed, or perhaps still distracted by the imminent and prior conflict with Lee Jay, he carried on. "My friend – Josef – is about to deliver a car. Could you give him a lift back to his? It's more like him to call a cab, but he'll appreciate it."
I had stopped hearing everything but white noise after Mick said Josef. Somehow, though I had absolutely no idea how, the shock did not register enough to elicit a bemused response from the PI. I nodded, hastily moistening my lips and chewing on the inside a little too harshly. "I think I remember where he lives."
Well, shit.
Mick most certainly did frown at that; no amount of impending vampire danger could take away the obvious implications from my words. I had realised them the moment they left my tongue, and I scrambled desperately to explain myself without coming across like a frenzied lunatic; something I was not sure I could accurately achieve. "Someone I met works for him and asked to be taken there." Calling Lilia a friend did not seem practical enough in the moment, and a part of me felt it would betray too much if I gave her that label no matter what our interactions were. There was every possibility that Mick knew who Lilia was, either by face or simply by understanding the female company that Josef kept was for the majority reserved for freshies. As a rule of thumb, from what I had gathered, freshies rarely held friendship circles outside the harem of blood-givers, and so it would look both problematic and unusual for the both of us. Not, I realised, that there was much hope of stopping that; I had taken her to a public event and she in turn was taking me to one of Josef's charity parties of sorts.
All at least appeared to be forgiven; Mick nodded and smiled as he climbed out the car. "Thank you again. If you don't mind just waiting here –" It appeared as if he wanted to say more, but thought better of it, and I heard the gradual approach of another vehicle. Saying goodbye with my own somewhat nervously forced smile, I made a point of picking at the bare threads on the hem of my shorts, and grimaced when my eyes happened upon the garish pink slippers resting on the pedals.
The two were talking this very moment, and despite not quite remembering what the conversation entailed I used the spare moments of quiet to determine just what I was going to fill the void of silence with when driving Josef home. A part of me bitterly resented the PI; why couldn't Josef just get a taxi home? Goodness knows he had enough money. Or maybe his own personal driver he undoubtedly had on speed dial?
I was working myself up over something I had very little control over, and for someone who lived alone, worked hard and relied so very little on others, having that control snatched away was indescribably hard. I did not want to sniff at challenges, but this was so much more than a simple quest; I felt sweat bead at my hairline and I frantically wiped it away. The idea of treating him like just another student was tempting but short-lived; Josef Kostan was the very last individual I could picture as a student and thus act the teacher with. The only other excuse was driving; though to them I should have been driving for a neat, comfortable year and therefore that should be deemed long enough to get used to driving on the other side of the road, but in my own, present reality I was not used to it at all. I still exercised intense concentration either way, but more so right now and with any luck he would pick up on that.
Not that there was anything he should be personally worried about; if anything drastic occurred, he would walk away without so much as a scratch.
The car door opened and closed with such fluidity I could not have blinked, and it was only with the distinct click of a seatbelt I rounded myself to stare in to the eyes of Josef Kostan. "Hi." I managed, and much to my surprise he seemed to smile, despite the obvious strain of circumstances. I was not foolish enough to think he was especially pleased to be in my car, but at least he was not being outright disgusted by the idea.
Josef gave thanks in the quickest and shortest way, which I took as my cue to begin driving once he reiterated that I knew where to drop him. He was on his phone just as swiftly as Mick had been, which instantly made me think of just where the PI was right now.
"My employee mentioned something about a rather interesting evening." His phone was away, and I swallowed, eyes peeled on the road in front of me.
"Oh," I managed, my voice barely held together as the air seemed to grow ever thicker. Swallowing, I coughed slightly to clear my throat and tried again. "She's very friendly. I wasn't too sure about going, but Julia asked me to, and I felt bad saying no." He can tell you're lying, Robin. That only served to make things worse. I could not help but panic when I recalled their ability to hear heartbeats, owing to my tendency to overthink situations and exacerbate them in my mind. I couldn't be myself around Josef, so I had to put on a mask, but even that was lying, and thus created yet another vicious circle I found myself entangled in. "I don't know too many people here." I added for good measure.
Out of my peripheral vision I could see his eyes on me; I felt the weight of them even if I had not been consciously aware. "Then it would seem the event tomorrow evening would be the perfect place to start." I squirmed uncomfortably, somewhat aware of the way his lips curled slightly at the edges. He was playing, hotly aware of my discomfort and indisputably enthralled by it.
Why could you not have gotten your own God-damned car, Mick?!
"I hope so." It appeared I was incapable of uttering sentences that invited a conversational response, and the pause at a set of traffic lights only made it worse. In a rather vain attempt to lighten the atmosphere that only I appeared to feel strangled by, I pushed myself a little harder to make a joke. "Perhaps understandably, perverse Professors and murderous assistants just don't make the cut for enjoyable company." The low chuckle that emitted from the usually reserved vampire eased the aforementioned tension. It was folly to think anything could obliterate it entirely; I was far too wired to ignore the fact that Josef was most likely sizing me up the entire time I drove, not to mention how Mick had quite probably told him everything about me – and Guillermo's contact could be none other than Kostan's very own 'maestro'.
I had never been more thankful for short journeys; I pulled up to the gates of his (at least, to me) intimidating home. "No need to drive through." He said, mimicking Mick's earlier move of pushing his phone away in to a hidden pocket. I was doing everything to hold myself together, fully intent on burying my head in to a pillow the very moment I got home and screaming myself hoarse – and it was working, too, until he took hold of my hand and lifted it to press a cold, icy kiss on top. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."
Blinking rapidly, fully aware of the abysmal state my open-mouthed look gave, I did not have enough time to respond before he left and closed the door behind him. Hands shakily gripped the wheel, and the white knuckles did not abate until long after I had driven away; the complete scrambled mess of my brain soothed only slightly by the radio news announcement of Lee Jay Spaulding's death.