Chapter 56

My Boyfriend Is A Vampire

Author's Note: OK, we are back on track on the chapters - I'll repost The Billionaire in its appropriate spot. Sorry about that, too many things happening around the holidays!

Intro song: Back To Life, Soul II Soul

After Gabrielle left the terrace, Beth sat for long minutes, thinking about their conversation. Josef's and Gabby's logic for why she should stay at the ADA's office made perfect sense. And she had to admit that the idea of spying on Talbot carried a certain appeal. But could she pull it off, given how she felt about him now? The two vampires seemed to think so. You don't know what it would cost me though...

She shifted in her chair as she felt the phone in her hip pocket vibrate. Simone had brought it out to her, pointing out that Beth had over thirty unanswered calls. When she had shrugged and pocketed it, the lawyer had raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. Beth knew what Simone wanted her to do. She had made no further attempt to contact anyone after sending the texts and emails on Wednesday, saying only that she was with Mick and would be in touch again when she had an update on his condition. Logically, she realized that she should reach out to her employer and friends to update them and let them know her plans. Illogically, she resented all these people, feeling the responsibility to communicate with them as an intrusion on her quiet celebration over Mick's recovery. He's not recovered yet, don't get ahead of yourself...

"No, he isn't recovered yet, but he will," she said to the robin that had landed on the wall where Gabby had been sitting. The bird studied her with its bright, beady eyes, then flew off with a friendly chirp and a flutter of feathers. The knowledge filled her with joy - but also with apprehension.

She knew Mick well enough by now to be sure that, once he had recovered, his first order of business would be to go after those who had ambushed Carl Davis and him. And even if he didn't want to, she knew Josef did. Not that she didn't want revenge herself. Oh yes, she lusted for revenge after the pain and suffering Mick had gone through. It was something new to her but she had dwelled on it more and more during the long, cold hours in the freezer room. But even she didn't want retribution at the cost of risking his life again. Her throat ached with unshed tears at just the possibility of him being hurt again after all he had been through. Nor did she think that she could get through something like this again.

Beth was also fearful of what Mick might find. Her inquisitive mind had gone over that over and over as well. The development and use of this deadly ammunition, the number of people involved, the coordination required to be in place to attack Mick and Carl at the exact moment when they arrived at the desert crime scene... It didn't take a crime reporter to figure out that it all pointed to a well-organized, entrenched organization. What if... Her phone vibrating yet again interrupted her train of thought. Pulling it out with something dangerously close to a pout on her face, she scrolled down through the list of calls. Beth ignored those from Talbot's office, but paused at Carl Davis's ID, seeing that he had called multiple times since Tuesday night.

The young woman frowned. She didn't know how she felt about the detective right now. True, he had not been the one to force Mick to go to San Diego. That had been... Dickbot... And Jamie had said Carl wasn't comfortable with the way the ADA had handled the situation. Still, he had gone along with it, been part of it, perhaps shared some responsibility for Mick being injured...

She kept scrolling, pausing again at Jamie's name. She felt no animosity toward the young woman. In fact, she had gone out on a limb to alert Beth to Talbot's scheme and share information that Carl had confided. But if she contacted her, wouldn't that be like a direct line to Davis - and possibly, Talbot? There didn't seem to be any love lost between Jamie Sommers and her boss, but could she count on that? Dammit! Why was nothing ever easy? Was there some unwritten cosmic law that said her life had to be as complicated as humanly... or inhumanly... possible?!

Finally, she came to a call from Marissa, followed closely by one from Alison. Beth felt a pang of guilt. Since they had made tentative plans to meet Thursday evening, she had texted Marissa to briefly describe the situation. To be honest, she hadn't done it out of some thought that her friend might be worried if she didn't show up. No, instead, she was following Simone's instructions, using her contact with her friend to insulate her against any possible moves by Talbot. And she hadn't messaged Alison at all, instead relying on Marissa to alert the rest of her friends. Listening to their messages didn't make her feel any better. Both expressed genuine concern for Beth - and for Mick.

Marissa might be flighty, but she was an astute reporter, and had immediately made the leap from Beth's message that Mick was injured, to the reports on the situation in San Diego.

"Oh my god, Beth, was Mick the guy in the ambush in San Diego? It's been all over the news here! We even sent a crew down there to report from the site! He was, wasn't he?! Please let us know how he's doing when you can...and let us know what we can do to help you. Nothing you tell us will be shared with anyone else. I promise you!"

Alison's message was equally concerned, although it appeared that Marissa had not yet shared her suspicions with her - or, if she had, the scientist was too polite to say. Her worry for her friend was evident in her voice. "Beth, Marissa called me to tell me about the text you sent her. I hope Mick wasn't badly injured; I like him a lot – and you now how much I love you. Update us when you can - and let us know if there is anything we can do for you or him."

These loyal friends had both been there for her since their college days, and through the toughest times in her life. They deserved better from her. The gentle breeze that stirred the hair at her forehead seemed to be telling her not to worry. Relax, your friends will understand... Mick is getting better...With a sigh, she thumbed Marissa's number, secretly relieved when it rolled over to voicemail.

"Hey Marissa, it's Beth. Listen, I got your messages, thank you for being a good friend and worrying about me. I just wanted to give you an update. You were right about Mick being the person hurt down in San Diego - but please don't share that with anyone. He was shot and it's very serious, but he's doing better. I'll give you a call later in the weekend to talk live."

She disconnected the call and thought about her automatic subterfuge. She had deliberately left out any hint of where she was, where Mick was, how find her...

"Since you met that guy, screwed up is starting to seem normal." Her murdered boyfriend's words, uttered not long after she and Mick had first encountered one another in her career as an online reporter for BuzzWire, leapt, unbidden, into her mind. That was even before things got really crazy. Before she discovered that Mick was a vampire. Josh, if you only knew...

Her next call was to Alison, expecting that one to also go to voicemail. Her friend had a standing policy of not answering the phone during work hours so she was startled when the scientist picked up the call on the first ring.

"Beth! How are you? How's Mick?"

"Ah...doing better, Ali, thanks. I'm so sorry I haven't called before now but it's just been- "

"Beth, don't be silly," Alison broke in. "Mick is hurt, we understand. I would have been surprised if you had called sooner. I'm so glad to hear he's better. How are you?" She could not imagine her friend willingly sitting in a waiting room at a hospital, alone.

"I'm all right." When she heard her friend's skeptical snort, Beth added, "Really…I am." Her aversion to visiting friends in the hospital was legendary among her friends, she knew. On more than one occasion, she had been known to drop someone off at an emergency room door after an injury...and wait in the parking lot for them. Yet, she'd been inside more hospitals since she'd met Mick than in all the years since her mother had died put together. Somehow, being in an institution to investigate a case with him didn't have the same impact that it did when someone she knew was injured or ill. Alison's voice broke through her reverie.

"I'm guessing Mick's still in a hospital somewhere. How are you handling it? Do you want one of us to come be with you?"

Beth was touched by the note of concern in her friend's voice. "I'm fine, Ali. Mick is good friends with Josef Kostan, the hedge fund billionaire. He had Mick flown to a private clinic, so it's not like a real hospital. He's getting white glove treatment from a great medical staff." Her mouth twitched in the hint of a smile as she looked out over the spectacular vineyard panorama spread out in front of her. Fortunately, this was Alison, not Marisa, she was talking to. Had it been her fiery reporter friend, she'd have been bracing for a thousand questions after sharing that information

Alison said only, "Okay, if you say so." The scientist's tone was skeptical. "How badly was he hurt? Will he have to be in - wherever - much longer?"

Beth pictured Mick in the freezer room with his silvered eyes and throat-to-groin incision and shivered. "It was bad enough. He's lucky to be alive. I think he'll probably be here another week or so before he can go home. I'll keep you posted though, okay?"

Suddenly, the urge to return to Mick overwhelmed her. " Ali, I have to go. I'll call you soon, OK? Love you." Before her friend could respond, she disconnected the call. Jumping up, Beth shoved the phone back into her pocket. Jamie, Carl, Talbot... they could all wait.

She almost ran into the house, heading for Mick...

Gabrielle's last stop had been to the cold room to visit her injured friend. Opening the door quietly, she found Dr. Spector standing next to Mick, fiddling with something. She caught his frown, but could detect no increase in heart rate or breathing that would signal a crisis. Still...

"Everything okay, John?"

"What?!" The physician spun around in surprise "Oh, it's you, Gabrielle. Yes, he's doing okay. At least... as far as I can tell."

Seeing the vampire frown, he added, "We are breaking new ground here, you know. So much of what I'm doing is guesswork and supposition. I really don't know with any certainty how he will progress or what his ultimate outcome will be. You can understand how uncomfortable that makes me. We physicians are used to being infallible, after all." He smiled slightly.

Gabby looked down at Mick and placed a gentle hand on his bare shoulder. There was no response. He was caught up in the deep, hibernation-like sleep that vampires fell into when in their freezers, exacerbated by the pain medication being administered.

"Is there any way for me to talk to him for a few minutes, John? I'd really like to know if he's remembered anything else before we leave."

Dr. Spector grasped the zipper of his heavy, quilted parka and ran it up and down as he thought, an irritating habit he had picked up over the last few days as he worked in the cold space. "If I stop the morphine drip for a few minutes, I'm sure we can wake him back up. You vampires seem to metabolize drugs so fast that it would be out of his system in a few moments."

"Can you do that without causing him too much pain?"

"For a few minutes, but he'll get uncomfortable again quickly." Spector reached over and turned the stopcock, stopping the saline infusion containing the morphine.

"Thank you, John. Do you mind if I talk to him alone?" She noticed the doctor's look of surprise, but chose to ignore it. Fuck it, I don't have to explain myself. "I can turn the drip back on as soon as we are through."

"Certainly. I need to get my things together anyway. Let me know if you need any help. I need to finish packing up and then find Beth to go over my instructions for Mick. Do you know where she is?"

"Try the terrace. She was still there a few minutes ago." She frowned after the physician as he left, then turned her attention to Mick, waiting patiently as, true to Spector's prediction, the vampire began stirring almost at once.

"Mick, can you hear me?" She laid her hand back on his shoulder again.

"Hey, Gabby," he croaked, his eyes cracking slowly open, the irises still silvered orbs with a narrow ring of hazel.

"I'm so sorry to wake you up, but John and I are leaving for New York soon and I wanted to talk to you again before I left. How are you feeling?"

"Like road kill."

Gabby couldn't help laughing, her gaze warm as she looked down at her friend. "Well, John said you are going to heal - and feel - much more like a human than a vampire until more of the silver is gone, so that is probably not an inaccurate description."

"If this is how people feel after surgery, I'm surprised there are any surgeons left in the world." He closed his eyes and swallowed with great effort. "Is there any blood handy? My throat feels like I've been gargling with nails."

"Sure, Mick. I'm sorry I didn't think of it." Gabby hurried over to a storage cabinet in one corner of the large room and removed a bag of blood stored there, stripping off the stoppers on the tubing as she made her way back to him. Putting the tip between his lips, she raised the bag and squeezed to help force the fluid into his mouth.

After a few swallows, he nodded. "Much better, thank you." he said, his voice still hoarse, but surprisingly strong. He eyed her, then suddenly crossed his arms over his chest, a pained look on his face. "Towel...," he gasped.

"What?! What is it, Mick? What's wrong?!"

"Need... towel," he managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Gabby, bewildered, sprinted to the corner cabinet again to grab one of the thick bath towels stored there and ran back to Mick with it. He immediately grabbed it and pressed the heavy fabric against his chest to splint it as he howled with laughter. His shoulders shook and he made several attempts to speak before he could gasp out, "Nice shirt." Helpless to stop himself, he began laughing again, simultaneously groaning from the pain it caused.

"Oh my god, is there anyone who doesn't want to take a shot at me over this fucking shirt?! Do not start with me, Mick St. John! It's from your friend's 'special 'closet, just so you know - and, it was the only thing that fit. I would never pick this out!"

Mick gradually got himself under control. "Well, that hurt," he sputtered as he lay back with a sigh, using the bath towel to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes. The thick, white fabric was stained with blood that had leaked from his incision when he pressed the towel against it.

"Good! Serves you right!" Gabby exclaimed with a smile that gradually faded. "Mick, I need to ask you about that night again – can you remember anything more?" She was apologetic as she laid the bag of blood aside on the bench and leaned back over her friend. "John and I are going back to New York so that we can be there for the Eastern Council meeting. Victoria is trying to persuade them of the danger we are all facing so that we can plan an organized response. We all think that the attack on you is linked to what is happening in New York, so anything you can remember would help."

"Even Josef?" When she nodded, Mick suppressed his surprise. That was certainly a change of heart for his friend!

He tried to follow Gabrielle's logic, shifting on the bench to get a better look at her face and grimacing as the slight movement pulled at the raw flesh on his chest and abdomen. "So you think Victoria being attacked and injected with silver on the street...and my being shot here...are connected?"

"And, don't forget the attack on Durin. They all have to be related. You were in such bad shape because you were shot with hollow-point silver bullets. Silver is certainly not the metal of choice for ammunition, even as part of an alloy. It's too soft and way too expensive. No one would use that unless they knew that you were a vampire and understood the damage that spreading silver all through your body could do. There's just no other explanation, Mick. So, anything you can remember would be useful."

He closed his eyes, frowning in concentration as his abnormally husky voice recounted the images he saw playing against his eyelids. "It was almost dark. Gunfire flashing everywhere. I killed two of them, I remember that. They were shooting at Carl Davis and the border agents. I think they killed at least one of them. I could see a scope light...on Davis. Knew I couldn't get to the shooter, so I ran to Carl and got between him and the shooter."

Mick shook his head, his forehead creasing with pain as the last of the morphine wore off. He opened his eyes to find Gabrielle's worried face hovering over him. "Are you all right, Mick? I'm so sorry, maybe I shouldn't have had John turn off the morphine. I- ."

He shifted his weight around, searching for a position in which to lie that didn't bring him pain. There wasn't one. "It's okay, Gabby. I'm alright - just a little...sore."

She smiled at his futile attempt to downplay his discomfort. "You saying you're a little sore is like Bill Gates saying he's got a little money!" Her face sobered as she quizzed him. "That's all you remember then? No names shouted out? No clear looks at faces?"

"I don't remember anything after I jumped in front of Carl. Not right now, anyway."

Her shoulders sagged in disappointment that she tried hard to mask. Picking up the bag of blood again, she held the tubing in place and trickled more of the thick liquid into his mouth. "That's okay. Maybe you just didn't see anything else."

He licked his dry lips, leaving a faint hint of red behind. "No," he said in a throaty whisper, "there's something else. I feel like I knew who it was that was shooting, like I had smelled him or sensed him before. I just can't remember!" The harder he tried to grasp the elusive memories, the more his frustration increased. Why couldn't he get this?! A sudden flash came to him. He could hear Guillermo and Beth talking in worried tones. He could feel a different hard surface he was lying on, cold metal. Beth was holding his hand and he knew she was crying, yet he couldn't see her, couldn't see anyone. All he saw was red. Then he felt pain. No, not pain. Agony. Agony unlike anything he had ever experienced. He heard someone screaming. He swallowed hard against the nausea the hallucination caused, his muscles tensing against the waves of pain that followed.

"Mick, are you all right?" Gabby's voice brought him back to reality. Were these real memories? He couldn't be sure, which made it all the more frustrating. As the images faded, he gradually relaxed, unclenching the fists he had unknowingly made.

Gabrielle misunderstood his reaction. "It'll come. Don't worry about it. You've gone through a lot. You're already remembering more than you did when you first woke up. If you know who the shooter was, you'll get it. I-"

She turned around as the door behind them opened, revealing Beth, accompanied by Logan, and Ryder, who had latched onto her on her way in from the terrace.

"Mick, you're awake!" Hurrying over to his bench, Beth bent down to kiss him on the cheek. She didn't need vampire senses to detect his pain and distress. A quick glance at the IV told her why and she turned to Gabrielle with a frown. "Why is the morphine turned off?! That- "

"Beth," Mick interrupted hoarsely, "it's okay. We needed to talk. I was trying to remember..." He trailed off, exhausted by the effort to talk, his face suddenly haggard.

Seeing the look of anger on Beth's face, Logan broke in, determined to head off any confrontation between Gabrielle and her. "Hey, Mick! Good to see you awake! We were sure worried about you, weren't we, Ryder?" He glanced at the tall, lanky vampire beside him, signaling desperately to him to join in.

Ryder caught his look. "Yeah, you don't look half as bad as I thought you would, Mick. You just look like a bad tailor tried to put a zipper in you..."

Their light-hearted greetings and obvious pleasure at seeing their friend alive, helped to defuse the tense atmosphere.

Mick chuckled in spite of himself, groaning and pressing his hand to his chest at the pain that act caused. He rasped, "Do not make me laugh, you two. That's the worst thing in the world to do right now and Gabby already did that to me with that damn shirt of hers."

"Oh yeah, that shirt," Ryder guffawed. "Everyone is talking about that shirt."

"Well, fuck all of you!" Gabby growled.

"I think," Beth said firmly, in a tone that dared anyone in the room to challenge her, "that we need to turn this morphine back on." She looked around the group of vampires, who all nodded.

"We'll see you later, man," Ryder said, and almost sprinted out the door. Man, I don't want to get on her bad side!

Logan reached out to touch the injured man's arm. "I'll come see you later. Didn't mean to keep you awake, we were just looking for Gabby, really." When Mick nodded, he looked up in time to meet Gabrielle's quizzical stare. "Ryder and I had something we wanted to talk to you about before you left."

She nodded. "I'll be right behind you, Logan." She waited while he left, then bent down to Mick. "Get some sleep, Mick. Beth or Josef can call me when you remember more." She brushed his cheek with her lips and murmured, "Get well, little boy."

Straightening, she smiled at Beth, attempting to make amends. "I know you'll take good care of him. Let me know if there is anything I can do."

Beth relented. She understood that Gabrielle was trying to balance the need for information with Mick's well-being and was sure that the New York vampire would never willingly cause him harm. She forced a smile. "I will, Gabby. I'm sorry if I overreacted just now. Thank you for everything."

Before the female vampire had even reached the door, Beth had turned the morphine drip back on. She watched the lines of pain and tension on Mick's face ease as the powerful narcotic coursed through his bloodstream. Stroking his forehead, she crooned, "Sleep, Mick." His eyelids drooped, and, although she could tell he was fighting to stay awake, he drifted off in a matter of moments.

Beth settled down beside him, rearranging the sleeping bag around herself, content for the moment just to watch him breath.

End song: Never Tear Us Apart by Sleeping At Last