Chapter 63

FRAYED

Author's note: Interestingly, the songs I liked for this chapter have the same title but are very different. Different tune, lyrics & vibe - with a very different message. Each of them are exactly what I was thinking about & feeling as I wrote that part of the chapter so I went with it. Never had that happen before! As always, thanks for reading & especially for leaving comments. Really helps keep me motivated! For those of you who are lucky enough to have MLK Day off & get a 3-day weekend, enjoy!

Intro Song: The Ghost of You, Chemical Romance

"No, I'm not overreacting, Christophe!" John Giles paced his living room, waving his hands in the air to punctuate his words, even though the man he was talking to couldn't see him. "Rebecca is never late calling me on Fridays, unless she lets me know. Not even by five minutes...and now it's been almost twelve hours!"

On the other end of the call, Durand, still in his bathrobe after a late night spent plotting and strategizing with his son, tried to calm his second-in-command. "John, there have been no reports of any 'incidents' in Chicago, right? If there have been, I certainly wasn't informed of them. Rebecca's had a lot on her plate since she went there. I'm guessing she just fell asleep or something. Why do you always think the worst?"

"Maybe because we hunt and kill vampires, Christophe," John replied icily. "That puts us just a little more at risk than, let's say, the local librarian, wouldn't you agree?" It took all his willpower to refrain from throwing the phone across the room.

Giles had been up all night, waiting for word on his wife. After receiving the okay from Durand the previous evening, he had called the head of their Chicago office. The man had been no help, professing to have no information as to her whereabouts. One of the field agents said she had left the office around six o'clock, headed for the parking garage and her car. They searched the garage and found neither. No one had seen, or heard from her, leaving him no choice but to wait it out.

As the hours had ticked by, he had first drank whiskey, but then switched to coffee when it became obvious to him that she was not going to show up and that the morons in Chicago wouldn't figure out what might have happened. He needed to be sober and clear-headed. Rebecca would expect hat of him. She deserved that much. He had resolved to go there to search for her, himself. With or without Durand's approval. However, the Crucis leader's support would make his life much easier when he got there so Giles had decided to talk to him. So far, it was not going well.

"Sarcasm will not help your cause - and it certainly won't help Rebecca. I would recommend that you watch your tone with me - missing wife or no missing wife." The threat in Durand's tone was crystal clear.

John sank down onto the plush couch, resting his forehead in one hand, abject misery written on his heavily-lined face. "What am I going to do, Christophe?" he whispered. "She's my whole life. You know that."

Durand contemplated that statement for a moment. How dare this little man put anything – or anyone – before their mission! It just reinforced his decision to remove Rebecca from the equation. You did the right thing, Christophe. "I thought Crucis was your life, John. I assume that everyone who works for me feels that way. Was I wrong to assume that?" His tone warned the distraught man not to dismiss him or their mission and the meaning was not lost on his subordinante.

With an effort, Giles pulled himself together. "You know how important our work is to me, Christophe. Nothing and no one other than Rebecca could get in the way of that. But…I'm so worried and I just don't know what to do next." You've probably never been loved by, or loved, anyone!

"I do understand." Durand acknowledged, having accomplished his goal of outlining Giles' priorities.. "And we will do everything in our power to find her. We will find her - and, when we do, I think you'll see that you overreacted," he lied smoothly. "Look, you get on the next flight to Chicago. I'll take care of letting everyone there know you're coming, and I'll have Brian Stewart pick you up at the airport. You two know each other, right?"

Giles caught himself nodding mutely into the phone. "Ye-." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, I know Brian."

"Good! Well, you text him when you know what time you are getting in. I'll call ahead to ensure that everything is arranged - and make it clear to the team that they are to provide you with whatever assistance you might need. I'm sure, though, that by the time you're in the air, Rebecca will be calling you!"

Giles couldn't muster the energy to respond to Durand's comments before he hung up. His gut told him that something quite different would happen. His pulse pounded in his temples as his imagination ran away with him. Rebecca captured by vampires. Rebecca tortured by the crazed humans that supported and protected the monsters. Rebecca lying dead, her blood drained... "NO!"

Frantically, he jumped up, and this time he did fling the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into dozens of plastic pieces, one of which bounced back and hit him just above the eye, drawing blood. As he pulled out his handkerchief to dab at the small cut, he couldn't help thinking that it was a bad omen. Blood... Shaking off the images that single word conjured up, Giles hurriedly packed a small overnight bag. He paused on his way out the door to scoop up the shell of his shattered phone and retrieve the SIM card. He couldn't afford to be out of touch for Rebecca right now, so he'd get a replacement phone on the way to the airport .

Stopping in the hall, John looked back in at the neat, tidy apartment. The space was pleasant - but it was his wife that made it a home. If anything happened to Rebecca, I'm never coming back here. With that thought, he locked the door and ran for the elevator.

Having seen Josef settled into one of her guest rooms for some much-needed freezer rest before his return trip to California, Victoria went in search of her second-in-command. She found the younger vampire gloomily drinking blood in the small study off her bedroom.

Closing the door quietly behind her, Victoria leaned against it, motionless, until Gabrielle finally looked up.

"What the fuck was that about?" the vampire leader asked quietly. The lack of volume did nothing to diminish the anger her question carried. "You kill our only witness? Before he could say anything? In front of the whole Council?"

"V, I'm sorry. I know I was out of li-"

Victoria held up her hand, silencing Gabby. "I don't want to hear it. Out of line?! We're fighting for the survival of all of us here. You saw how those idiots were looking for any excuse to walk away from this problem - and you gave them one! Handed it to them on a silver platter!"

Gabrielle couldn't look at her mentor. She slumped in her chair, her stiletto pumps digging into the thick carpet as she studied the blood in her glass.

Victoria continued. "This is much bigger than just you or me, Gabby. I thought you understood that. If Josef hadn't shown up, things would have gone very differently. He gave a huge boost to our credibility when we needed it most. What if-"

"I get it, V!" Gabrielle burst out, straightening in her chair. "I know I was an embarrassment to you - and to Josef. I'm sorry. It's just... When that man started in, calling us monsters, refusing to tell what he knew, I couldn't help myself. I pictured what that bastard's people did to Mick and I...I just lost control. I know that isn't a good excuse - but you should have seen Mick when I first laid eyes on him, V. It was horrible, maybe the worst thing I've ever seen." The tears she had held back until that moment, spilled over, slipping down her face.

Victoria's arresting blue eyes studied the distraught woman as a sudden thought occurred to her. "Are you in love with him, Gabrielle?"

"What?!" Startled by the unexpected question, Gabby sniffed and swiped at her cheeks before responding. "In love with Mick? No!" She tried to gather her composure. "I mean, I do love the guy, he's great - but I'm not in love with him. He's more like a brother to me. Besides, he has a girlfriend, remember?"

The older vampire waved the comment off. "A human girlfriend. Human relationships with vampires don't last. You should know that."

Gabrielle's lips compressed in anger and her eyes flashed. Adamantly, she insisted, "This is different, V. I met Beth in California and I saw them together. They are very much in love...and she would do anything for him." An image appeared in her mind - Beth leaning over Mick, feeding him from the deep gash she had cut in her own arm with the razor-sharp scalpel she still clutched in one white-knuckled hand...

"Well, she'd do anything except become one of us, apparently."

Bristling, Gabby blurted, "You don't know that, V. You don't even know if Mick would want her to turn. None of us know that." And if he hasn't talked to me about it, I'm damn sure he hasn't talked to you!

"As they used to say, the proof is in the pudding, Gabrielle. But look, what happens between Mick St. John and his freshie girlfriend is up to the two of them." Victoria moved over to sit down in the chair next to her subordinate. "I did talk to Josef and he told me how bad things were out there - and for him to say that...well..." she shrugged. "I'm trying to take that into consideration, but what you did in there... that was a fuck-up of gargantuan proportions."

She hated raking Gabrielle over the coals like this, but only she and Josef knew how close the younger woman had come to being executed for her actions. The Council hadn't seen the supremely confident, talented, committed woman she saw. No, they had seen a loose cannon, a vampire that couldn't even control herself in front of a group of her elders.

"She's a danger to vampires' anonymity and safety, a danger to all of us. I'm surprised at you for keeping her around, Victoria," Craig had lectured with a sinister smile.

Germaine was aware that she and Gabby were close, Victoria knew, and she suspected that a large part of his 'concern' came from a sincere desire to wound her in some fashion. She had fought back - but it hadn't been easy.

Cloistered with the Council after the open meeting, Victoria had needed to use all of her considerable powers of persuasion to convince them that this was not typical behavior, that Gabby was an extremely valuable asset to the community at a time when they needed her most. Josef had, once again, stepped in to help, personally vouching for Gabrielle's value and her behavior.

The last thing Victoria wanted to do, however, was divulge all this. She, alone, knew how fragile the Asian woman's self-esteem really was, and she feared that the knowledge would be such a blow to Gabby that she would leave the New York community. How do I make her see how important this is?

"You just can't screw up like that again, Gabrielle. It won't be tolerated." It's not me, Gabby, it's them.

"I know, V." Gabby gripped the armrests of her chair tightly. "Do you want me to leave?" she whispered miserably.

"No, Gabrielle, I want you to stay. I need you - now, more than ever. And I care about you, you know that. That's why I'm having this conversation with you." Victoria leaned forward to put her hand on the other woman's knee. Lord, help me get through to her. "We've been together a long time, you and I, and I have great faith in you and your abilities. I think of you as my daughter. But hear me now. If anything like this ever happens again, you are gone. Do you understand me?"

Gabby's long, black hair hung down on either side of her face, shielding her sudden look of anger. How dare she? After I've saved her life...and Durin's... Curling her small hands into fists, she fought for control.

The hardest part of being a vampire, to Gabrielle, was keeping the extreme emotional swings and volatility under wraps. She still remembered the first time she had really lost her temper after being turned. There had been a white-hot flash of anger, an almost physical sensation of being swept up. When she had come to her senses, three humans were dead. Since that time, Gabby, like most vampires she knew, had worked hard to master her emotions. Those efforts stood her in good stead now, as she tamped down her anger. Tossing her glossy hair back, Gabrielle met her leader's stare with her own steady gaze, her eyes now dry and clear. "I understand, V. I won't let you down again," she said evenly.

"I know you won't." Victoria smiled winningly. "I also know you've had some long days. I'll let you get to your freezer." With a squeeze of Gabby's knee, she relinquished her grip on the younger vampire and stood to leave.

At the door, Victoria paused, looking back thoughtfully at the youthful-appearing woman sitting with a tall glass of ruby liquid gripped tightly in both hands. "This is forgotten, you know. Behind us. I won't bring it up again - not unless something else..." She caught herself. "It's over, that's all."

Bitch! Out loud, Gabrielle said only, "Thank you, V."

"Damn it!"

Carl flung back the covers and sat up on the side of the bed, reluctantly giving up on the idea of sleep. After a few fitful hours of disturbing dreams, he had been awakened by a nightmare image of Mick St. John, advancing toward him across the desert, his hands struggling unsuccessfully to keep his organs in place, in spite of the gaping wound in his abdomen. He remembered wincing as the P.I.'s intestines slid out through his fingers and trailed on the ground behind him as he continued his slow, painful approach. His eyes were the eerie blue Carl had seen when he cradled the injured man in his arms. As Mick was reaching a bloody hand toward him, the detective had awakened with a start, bolting upright in a cold sweat.

He had been tossing and turning ever since the nightmare, sleep an elusive prize. Truth be told, he wasn't even sure he wanted to go back to sleep - not if it meant risking a repeat of that dream.
Just the thought caused Davis to jump up, his bare feet padding on the carpet soundlessly as he headed to the bathroom. A splash of cold water and teeth-brushing made him feel almost human again. Coffee... Yes, coffee. That would complete the transformation.

Stumbling into his small, neat kitchen, he fumbled with the coffee filters, already almost able to smell it. Within a few minutes, he had a hot, steaming mug in hand, taking long swallows to wake himself up.

Heading back into the living room, he turned on the floor lamp to drive back the darkness that filled the room. Outside the picture window, the world was still black, the hour too early for even a hint of light. It was a measure of how tired and dysfunctional he had been the night before, that the drapes were still open.

"Dumb ass," Carl muttered, crossing to the window to shut the curtains, the slightly receding full moon casting a faint glow on the ground outside. He hesitated for a moment, peering down the street where the shadows were darkest. Looking for ghosts?" he scolded himself, taking another long swallow of coffee as he closed the drapes. Shaking his head at his own nonsense, he sat down on the couch and stared at the pile of papers he had left when he staggered off to bed the night before. With a tired sigh, he picked up the lined yellow legal pad he'd tossed on the coffee table.

'To Do' was printed in large block letters at the top of the page - he'd only gotten that far before his fatigue got the better of him. Now, Carl tapped his pen on the tablet for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. Smiling grimly, he began to write. The list was going to be long...

Almost immediately though, thoughts of Jamie derailed his thinking. "I don't need this shit right now!" Davis growled aloud in frustration. Dropping his pen and tablet on the floor, he threw himself back on the sofa, massaging his forehead. The logical part of his brain - which seemed to Carl to be only dimly functioning these days - reminded him that Jamie was indeed at the top of his list for good reasons.

The detective still worried about Mick and how he was doing, but Beth's texted assurance that the investigator was going to recover had allowed him to relax a little. If anyone could ensure that St. John recovered, it would be Beth Turner. Yes, Mick was in very capable hands. But Jamie… the chat he found on his laptop solidly confirmed that she was his ground zero for these recent happenings. Of course, it wasn't quite so simple. Why was it that things with him rarely were?

Were she just a typical suspect, informant, or any of the human flotsam he normally encountered in the due course of his duties, Carl knew he wouldn't be nearly so conflicted. He wistfully thought back to when he first noticed her in the DA's office – reaching up to file something, her rounded hips swiveled slightly to one side, knee bent. He groaned. No matter how he fancied himself intelligent, professional, or any number of higher attributes, in the end, a pretty face and a great pair of legs had landed him in what was likely a bad situation. Again.

The detective eyed the telephone. It was at such an hour not long ago that he'd called Jamie when he desperately needed someone – and she'd come to him, taken care of him, without hesitation. If she'd wanted to take advantage, to have the upper hand, wouldn't that have been the perfect opportunity? But she hadn't taken it. So, what did she want? Who was she chatting with on his computer? Who was this woman? And, despite everything, why did he still have feelings for her?

The confusion was starting to make his head hurt.

Swearing softly to himself, Davis pushed through his malaise and redirected his energies toward something useful. Getting his second wind, and a sip of coffee, he picked up his tablet and pen, and resumed his self-assigned task with renewed purpose.

TO DO:

- Investigate & interrogate Jamie

End Song: The Ghost of You, Caro Emerald