Chapter 64

Future Nostalgia

Intro Song: The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades, Timbuk 3

Edward and Donna Garfield had owned their 'getaway' in Clio for many years - long before real estate prices had put such things out of the reach of all but the wealthiest of individuals. They both treasured the privacy that the property afforded, choosing to keep it over more exclusive addresses that Edward's ever-increasing income could have afforded them.

The 3,500 square foot home, nestled on five acres of private, forested land, had breathtaking views of meadows and mountains from almost every window. Vaulted ceilings, an open floor plan, and large bay windows gave the structure an airy feeling.

The bedroom Ben used had been his since he was young, and he had spent as much time here as a child as his 'real' parents would allow. His childhood was full of fond memories of weekends spent with Donna and Edward. It was the place he'd been happiest growing up and he could feel himself relax as he sat down to lunch with his surrogate parents in the sunny breakfast nook.

At the far end of the meadow, he could see a mule deer snacking on tender shoots of the blackberry and huckleberry bushes Donna had planted there for that purpose. The deer's tail flicked contentedly as she ate, basking in the sunlight. A tiny fawn, its dark eyes huge in a tawny face, pressed its delicate body up against her side.

"Kind of late for a baby that small, isn't it?" Ben remarked as he unfolded the crisp navy linen napkin and slid it on his lap.

Donna followed his gaze out the window and smiled. "Oh, that's Pokey. We call her that because she is always the last to drop a fawn. We've watched her for six or seven years and it's been like that every year." Her smile faded. "Mule deer only have a lifespan of about ten years, so I don't imagine we'll see her much longer. This might be her last one."

Talbot reached across the table to give her hand a squeeze. Donna had the kindest heart of anyone he knew; it was just like her to mourn over the potential demise of one deer out of a population of thousands. "Well, maybe one of her babies will carry on the tradition."

She smiled gratefully at him, her blue eyes lighting up with affection. "Thanks, Ben. Your fa- , I mean, Edward, would have called me a sentimental sap for that comment." Donna glanced playfully at her husband, just seating himself at the table with a bottle of wine in hand.

"What? What did I do now?" With his chiseled good looks and full head of dark hair, the trim older man could have passed as a movie star as he smiled around the table. Edward wasn't conceited about his looks – in fact, he'd be the first to acknowledge that his physical appeal had certainly been an asset as he worked his way up the political ladder. "What are you gonna do? This is California," he would say with a shrug.

Now, Garfield reflected on what a handsome family the three of them made and how comfortable they were together. This type of easy banter had long been a hallmark of the relationship between them - and Donna often accidentally referred to the two of them as Ben's parents. Or maybe it isn't so accidental, Edward thought sadly. They had tried for years to have children of their own, to no avail. He had been adamant about not adopting, despite his wife's pleas, having seen far too many couples struggling with issues that arose from children not their own offspring.

"I'm sorry, Donna, but the gene pool you come from is important!" Edward had insisted. He still felt that way, but there were times when he caught his wife wistfully looking after an older woman with a little one, obviously her grandchild, when he wondered if he had been cruel in his stance. Too late now. He shrugged. For all intents and purposes, Ben was their son. Someday he could give Donna the grandbabies she so desperately longed to nurture.

The lunch passed pleasantly with Edward regaling them with stories of the comings and goings of former Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger and his cronies, whom he'd stayed close to after the Republican ex-body-builder had left office. Donna updated them on her numerous charities and volunteer efforts. Both tactfully avoided the subject of Ben's visit. When the meal - and wine - were finished, Donna rose.

"I'm going to go meet some friends in Reno. I'm sure you boys can keep yourself occupied while I'm gone. Dinner at eight?"

"That would be perfect," Edward smiled up at the trim blond woman, the very picture of a successful attorney's wife, every hair in place, Chanel bag on her arm. "Go have fun. We'll find something to do." He squeezed her waist affectionately as she stood next to him.

"Just no driving," she admonished, kissing her husband on the cheek, and then moving around the table to do the same with Ben. "You have already finished one bottle of wine. If I know you two - and I do - it won't be the last."

Talbot grinned. "I certainly hope not." He watched Donna leave, his eyes warm. He didn't know if he was sorry that she had had no children of her own - or grateful, because it allowed her to focus on him as if he were her child. Selfish jerk! He acknowledged to himself that the thought was very self-centered. But still...

He came back to the present with a start when Edward clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, son. Haul your ass into the living room while I get us another bottle - Donna knows me a little too well, I guess."

Ben ambled across the polished hardwood floors in the great room to the living area. The afternoon sun shone through the large windows, perfectly framing the mountains in the distance. Somehow, the issues he faced back in Los Angeles seemed very far away and inconsequential at the moment. He said as much to his mentor as the distinguished-looking attorney seated himself across from Ben on the Ralph Lauren leather couch, a wine bottle and two fresh glasses balanced in one hand.

"Oh, your problems are real, all right. And, don't underestimate the seriousness, Ben. This could take you down. All the way down." Garfield grimaced as he worked the cork out of the fresh bottle of wine. "This is a great California Cabernet - 'Screaming Eagle'. You can only get it at auction if you aren't buying for a restaurant. You're going to love it." The ruby liquid splashed into the Waterford wine glasses.

Talbot leaned forward to snag one of the glasses. "Thanks, Edward." He sniffed the wine and took a small sip. "You're right. This is wonderful." Both men were quiet as they savored the vintage.

Ben was the first to break the silence. "Don't get me wrong. I know this is trouble. It's just that your house has always felt like home to me and everything seems... manageable... when I'm here."

"Everything is manageable - if you do it right. Trust me, Ben, I've had to deal with some major league crap in my career. There is always a way to handle it. Just don't get too complacent." He held up one neatly-manicured hand to stop the response the ADA was formulating. "That wasn't a criticism, just a comment." Edward's warm smile took the sting out of his words. Now, then, let's get down to it. What's the status of this P.I.?"

Talbot groaned in frustration. "Honestly, the only information I have about him is a text I got from his girlfriend. She said..."

"The girlfriend who works for you?" Garfield interrupted. When Ben nodded his confirmation, he exclaimed, "Why the hell isn't she calling you? You're her boss, for god's sake!"

"Cut her some slack, Edward. After all, her last boyfriend, Josh Lindsey, was murdered in front of her and this new boyfriend was just almost killed and it was, apparently pretty gruesome. Even my detective on the case, Carl Davis, was shook up - and he's a veteran."

"Poor baby," Garfield commented sarcastically. He had the good grace to look ashamed when the younger man raised his eyebrows. "You're right, Ben, sorry. I've grown to be a cynic – and spent too much time with the 'Terminator', I guess."

Talbot shook his head at the quip, but said nothing.

Edward started again. "So...you know St. John's going to live now - but, you really don't know much else, right?"

"Right." Ben reached for the wine bottle to pour a fresh glass of the deep red vintage and sipped, unenthusiastically this time.

"You don't know where he is or how long he'll be...wherever the hell he is."

"Nope."

"You don't know if he'll have some lasting disability..."

"No!" The irritation in Ben's voice was obvious.

"Calm down, Ben! I'm on your side, remember?" I'm just making sure that I've got this whole convoluted mess straight." The trim older man jumped up and began pacing back and forth as he thought, his path alternating between the polished wood floor and the thick throw rugs that marked the living area. The afternoon sun streamed in through the uncovered windows, highlighting the touches of gray at his temples.

Ben thought, not for the first time, that Edward looked like a Hollywood version of a political operative. He also thought, not for the first time, that this was an uncharitable definition of his mentor. Edward Garfield was a political genius and had never been anything but kind and supportive to him.

"Okay," Edward muttered, talking more to himself than to the younger man seated in his living room. "We have to make this guy out to be a hero - that much is clear. Selflessly throwing himself in front of his friend. Reporters will eat that up. Black cop...white P.I. St. John, the rescuer." His laugh was a short, staccato bark. "It'll give you a built-in reason to not disclose his whereabouts."

"But, I don't know his whereabouts!" Talbot protested.

"Come on, Ben, think!" Garfield turned on his protégé, a look of exasperation on his face. "The way we are spinning this, it isn't that you don't know where St. John is - it's that you refuse to divulge that information! The bad guys are still out there somewhere. You are his protector. The crusading ADA, willing to step up and take the heat in order to keep this man - this hero - safe while you continue your investigation and bring the bad guys to justice." Edward came to a halt in front of Talbot, his eyes glittering. Pointing a finger at Ben, he lectured him. "That is a very different spin, my boy, than you demonstrating incompetence by not knowing where a key witness is."

Ben winced. "Is that what you think? That I'm...incompetent?" He spat the last word out as if it were an extraordinarily bitter pill.

Garfield sat down beside him, clapping a hand on Ben's shoulder. "Of course not. If I did, I wouldn't be wasting my time with you." Even if you are the closest thing I have to a son...

Talbot frowned, looking down at his hands. His mentor's words were hardly comforting, but he had seen enough evidence of Garfield's ruthlessness over the years to know that he understood what needed to be done. I need to be more like him. Despite their long, close relationship, if Edward thought that Ben was a lost cause, he would commiserate with him on his bad fortune... and then walk away.

The ADA tried to think of some angle his mentor hadn't addressed, something that would show he was on top of the situation, able to think strategically himself. He seized on a sudden idea.

"What if Kostan comes forward? Tells the media where St. John is or that he's the one who has him undercover, and that I don't know where the guy is?"

"He won't." Edward said flatly, reaching for the rapidly-emptying wine bottle, lifting it free from its terracotta container to replenish his glass.

"How can you be so sure?" Ben caught the petulant tone in his voice and immediately tried to cover it up. "I mean, are you friends with him or something?"

"Me? No - not that I wouldn't like to! A billionaire like that could do wonders for our campaign fund-raising. The guy is supposedly pretty reclusive, though - except for a tight circle of friends, I'm told. No, I know he won't because he hasn't. If he were going to produce this P.I., or try to grab the spotlight for himself for whatever reason, he would have by now. It's been four days already and that's a lifetime in news circles, let me tell you." Garfield snorted. "Hell, even Arnie's escapades - whatever they were – would have ended up on page two after that length of time. The only reason the press is still on it is because the guy disappeared. Explain that mystery and they go away. For now, at least."

"You're probably right," Talbot agreed dubiously.

"No probably about it! It's not enough, though." Edward drained his glass with a satisfied smack of his lips, feeling a pleasant buzz begin in his head. "I'm starting to understand why they call this Screaming Eagle."

Talbot laughed. He felt his spirits begin to lift for the first time since the whole San Diego debacle had started. "It sounds like a good plan to me."

"Nope. It's only half a plan. I have to teach you to dream bigger, Bennie. We don't just want to save your ass, we want to use this to jump-start your career. Get you on your way to bigger and better things. You want that too, right?" Leaning back on the soft leather and extending his arms along the back of the couch, Garfield added. "Guess I never really asked you that before...and I should have. For that, I apologize. Do you have bigger aspirations?"

"Of course I do." Talbot managed to fake an enthusiastic response. After the scrutiny and headaches of the past week, he was no longer quite so sure of his desire for a career under the microscope of public attention.

"Okay, then. You'll focus back on those kids that were killed down there in the desert. It's the whole reason you got involved in the first place. Protect the most vulnerable and helpless among us. Fearless crusader for justice. Yada, yada..."

Ben smiled over at his mentor, the wine causing him to slur his words slightly. "Me, the fearless crusader. Who's gonna believe that?"

"When I'm finished? Everyone will! You need some high-profile support, though. I'd ask Arnie, but truth is, he's a fringe figure now, I'm not sure he'd be much help for you."

"I take it you have someone else in mind?"

"Indeed I do. Been thinking about it ever since we talked last night. The man I'm thinking of is a universally admired figure, someone above reproach. I've known him forever and he owes me a favor or two. Trust me - if he weighs in on your side, people will sit up and take notice. Besides, he's been following your career for years - always asks me about you when we talk. I know he'll want to help."

Had Talbot been less under the influence of the strong wine he had imbibed, he would have queried Garfield further about the mysterious supporter's identity. As it was, he could barely get out, "Might work."

"No might about it, son. It's a done deal." Clearly deciding that the matter was settled - at least for now - Edward pushed upright, steadying himself with one hand at the back of the sofa as he grinned down at the younger man. "Now that we've got your career back on track, how 'bout another bottle of 'Screaming Eagle'?"

Talbot nodded, and watched as Garfield make his slightly-unsteady way to the small pantry that he had converted to a wine room over his wife's protests a few years back. With an effort, the ADA managed to shove his troubles aside for the time being. "Donna get over your taking her pantry yet?"

Edward stared at him incredulously over the top of the corkscrew he was carefully affixing to the wine bottle. "Have you ever had a serious relationship with a woman? Because that is a question only a really naive guy would ask. Women are like elephants - they never forget. And, like an elephant...turn your back on them and they'll crush you like a bug. Every time," he added, waving the cork for emphasis.

"Well, not a woman like Donna!" Ben protested, laughing.

"Every. Time." Garfield stated emphatically. "Don't get me wrong, Bennie. I love Donna. Worship her. But I don't ever turn my back on her. When it comes right down to it, she's not gonna fall on her sword for me... or you... or anyone else. I don't know a woman who would."

Talbot ran his free hand through his hair, the other hand holding out his wine glass for a refill from the latest bottle. "Damn, here I thought I just needed to find someone like her."

"Someone just like Donna would be perfect for you. Absolutely perfect." Garfield nestled the fresh wine bottle in the clay canister. "Just be realistic about what you expect from her. When it comes down to it, none of us can rely on anyone except ourselves."

With that cynical pronouncement, Garfield raised his glass and touched it to Talbot's. The two settled back to enjoy good wine and male conversation until Donna returned.

Beth finished the last of her dinner and pushed back from the table, patting her flat abdomen. "If Mick can't go home soon, I'll have to buy new pants in a bigger size!" she exclaimed with a rueful grin.

"Yeah, right," Simone responded dryly, eyeing her dinner companion. "You look more like you've lost weight. I think you still have a little room to spare. I don't know if you worried it off, or if it was the not eating enough, or being in that cold room, but..."

"That's it!" Beth interrupted gleefully. "I've discovered the next new fad diet - the freezer diet! I'll be rich!" Both women laughed.

Beth was still almost giddy with relief over Mick's continued progress. When she visited with both of them, Simone couldn't help but be caught up in their joy in just being together. She also couldn't decide who was goofier - Beth in her giddiness, or Mick with his morphine-induced humor. She and Logan had been in with the two of them earlier in the evening and her abdominal muscles still ached from laughing almost continuously.

"It is hard on your skin, though." Beth gingerly touched her chapped lips, a by-product of all the time she had spent in the cold, dry air of Josef's freezer room.

"I'll get you something to use," Simone offered immediately. "I should have thought of that before."

"You don't have to do that," Beth protested. "You've done so much to help already." She smiled gratefully at her lone human companion here at the vineyard.

"Don't be silly. Besides, you are blazing new ground for freshies... how to take care of a sick vampire."

Beth made a face. "Not by choice." She toyed with her fork, pushing a few kernels of rice back and forth on the colorful earthenware plate, before looking back up at her companion. "Don't minimize how much help you've been, Simone. I know how hard you worked to get the materials and drugs Dr. Spector needed. And without them..." She trailed off, that terrifying thought derailing her conversation.

"Nonsense, I haven't done anything you wouldn't do," the lawyer declared, gesturing with one impeccably manicured hand. "Besides, staying here means I get to eat all this fabulous food and drink all this great wine." She looked ruefully down at the slivers of food on her plate - all that remained of the hearty meal. "I am going to miss Marguerite's cooking, though. That tuna steak was spectacular."

"I know. I hate that she's leaving." Beth sighed. She had tried to engage the older woman in small talk several times, but the housekeeper had rejected all overtures. Marguerite not only wanted to avoid vampires - she had also made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with their human friends as well.

Swirling her wine carefully in the long-stemmed goblet, Beth thought, it looks like blood. Her waking - and sleeping - thoughts seemed to be preoccupied now with vampires and blood. Even knowing Mick was going to recover, she would still wake from brief periods of rest, shaking and crying from the nightmare images that stalked her.

"You okay?"

Beth started. "What? Oh, I'm fine. Just in a food-haze, I guess. Have you heard from Josef?" Her investigative instincts had been stirred by the vampire's mysterious absence. Besides, a change of topic would be a good thing...

"Actually, I have - just before we sat down, as a matter of fact. I'm sorry, Beth. I was in such a hurry to stuff my face, I must have forgotten to mention it. That's why I don't eat at 'working lunches' - I lose all track of what I'm doing!" Simone laughed ruefully. "Anyway, Josef is on his way back now. Should be here in about-" she paused to consult her diamond-encrusted Tag watch, a gift from her billionaire employer after a particularly successful round of business negotiations. "... four hours."

"Still no idea where he went?" Beth couldn't keep the curiosity out of her voice. Once a reporter, always a reporter. She felt a twinge of regret over the loss of that career, at least for the time being, but quickly pushed it away, focusing on her dinner companion.

"Nope, still no idea." Simone shrugged. "That's not unlike him, though. Josef can be very..." She hesitated, searching for the right word. "...enigmatic."

"Doesn't that drive you crazy? I know it would me," Beth stated emphatically.

The beautiful brunette laughed, admitting, "It did a little, in the beginning. I thought he was being unnecessarily obstructionist and obtuse...and he thought I was being unreasonably nosy and pushy! Sounds like a match made in heaven, doesn't it?" She crossed her eyes and laughed.

"Oh, probably no worse than Mick and I. He's very private and sort of...brooding. And, I've certainly been described as pushy and nosy - many times!"

The two women laughed again. Simone shook her head, her thick mane of hair bouncing on her shoulders. "We're both nuts, you know that, right?

"That goes without saying." Sobering, Beth said, "This is really none of my business, so feel free to tell me to butt out, but...are you serious about Josef? Do you want to be with him permanently? Romantically, I mean, not as a vampire," she hastened to clarify.

There was a long moment of silence as Simone played with her wine glass, gazing into its depths as if she could read her future there. "I'm not- I don't really know, Beth. I love Josef; I mean, what's not to love? He's smart, handsome, witty, fun... and filthy rich. I'd be foolish not to be in love with him, right?"

"Well, there is that little thing about him being a vampire..."

"Oh, that." Simone smiled. "I'm crazy, I know, but that's not the issue. Not really, anyway."

Beth shrugged her shoulders. "Who am I to judge crazy? From where I sit, you seem pretty sane. If it isn't that, though, what is it?"

Simone lifted the wineglass, one slender hand gracefully bringing the fragile stemware up to her lips for a long swallow before answering. "I feel like I'm competing with a ghost, Beth. Josef loved Sara with all his heart - and I think a part of him always will. I don't know if that's because he just loved her that much, or if it's because he blames himself for how she ended up. Or both." Shrugging, she set the glass back down carefully on the cheery yellow linen tablecloth. "I'm not even sure it matters. I've just never been very good at 'sloppy seconds'."

Beth impulsively reached across the table to touch the young woman's hand. "I don't think that's what Josef sees when he looks at you. I've watched him. He really cares about you."

Simone smiled sadly. "I know he does, Beth. I'm just not sure he cares enough."

At that moment, Marguerite came out onto the veranda to take their plates and bring them coffee, bustling efficiently around the table.

"Thank you." Beth smiled up at the older woman, who just glared at her and silently stomped off with the dishes.

"Wow," Simone muttered, raising her eyebrows. "Who peed in her Cheerios?!"

Beth couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. The time in Temecula had changed the two women's relationship. Before now, they had been polite acquaintances only, with a barrier between them, erected by Simone allowing Mick to drink her blood – egged on by Josef. When she had walked in on them, Beth didn't think she could forgive any of them. That was then... After all that had happened at the vineyard, and Simone's tireless efforts on Mick's behalf, Beth now counted her as a friend. A good friend.

As for Mick... "Simone, I... I need to go check on Mick - will you be okay?" Beth rose, torn between her burning need to see him, and her desire to support her friend.

"I'm fine!" Simone waved Beth off. "I'm going to take the rest of this exceedingly excellent wine and go have a long, hot bath until Josef shows up. Besides, Mick is waiting for you, I'm sure."

Beth hesitated.

"Go!" Simone exclaimed, smiling up at her new friend. "I want you to. He needs you, Beth...as much as you need him."

Leaning over to give the slender brunette a quick hug, Beth whispered, "Thanks Simone - for everything." Straightening, she hurried off, her step and heart rate quickening as her thoughts turned to Mick, unconsciously humming 'The Nearness of You' as she made her way into the house.

Never one to wallow in self-pity, Simone snagged the wine bottle by the neck, and then stood and trailed Beth into the house to await its owner.

The detective woke from his unplanned nap with a start. Focusing his eyes on his watch gave him the bad news.

"Dammit!"

His feet hit the floor with a thud and he ran for the bathroom, throwing off his t-shirt as he went. Carl Davis was a meticulously organized man who couldn't abide lateness in people - and here he was, likely to be late himself for what would hopefully be a very important dinner with the mysterious Jamie Sommers.

As he multi-tasked, brushing his teeth with one hand and pulling a razor over his cheek with the other, he ran through his mental checklist to ensure that he hadn't forgotten anything. He knew he had reminded himself to do something just before he sat down on the couch 'for a minute' - a minute that had turned into a two hour nap for the exhausted man. But what?

He finished a fast shave and hopped into a lukewarm shower for a 'neck-downer,' as his grandfather used to call quick showers that didn't involve hair-washing. While he completed his tasks, he managed to resurrect the conversations that had occurred right before he fell asleep.

First had been his phone call to Jamie to make arrangements to see her that evening. His jaw had clenched in his effort to maintain a polite tone with her, despite his suspicions. He could only hope that she hadn't picked up on any of his animosity.

Then, there had been a call from...who? Damn, he couldn't remember! What was happening to him?! Too much on your brain, Davis. After several seconds of standing stock-still under the shower, searching his memory, he finally came up with it...Suarez! That was it, what he had failed to remember. I'm losing it. An odd call...

The motor pool supervisor had called Davis to let him know that he had left some things in the Escalade when he had finally returned the vehicle to the motor pool after the nightmare trip to San Diego.

"Sorry to bother you, Davis. I would have called you right away but I wanted to give you a chance to pull things together. Word is that was a pretty tough trip down to San Diego."

"You could say that," Carl had responded testily. Was the man fishing for information? If so, he was not going to get anything from him.

"Well, I don't want any gory details," Suarez had replied hurriedly. "I'm not out working the streets with you guys for a reason."

Carl had chided himself for his paranoia. "Sorry. It was rough. Guess I'm still not over it – I didn't mean to snap at you. So what's this about?"

"Just wanted to let you know you left some stuff in the back seat. I snagged it for you."

Davis had frowned, searching his memory. "Are you sure it's my stuff? I don't remember missing anything..."

"Yep, pretty sure. That car had just come in when you took it out - and nobody else has used it yet. We got a few bullet holes to patch up first. Civilians get nervous when they see cops riding around in a car full of bullet holes, you know."

The detective had winced. You think the car's bad, you should have seen Mick... He'd shaken his head to dispel the crude thought. You've been a cop too long. "So, what was it I left?" His curiosity had been aroused.

"Thermos and hat, dude. That hat cracked me up - I didn't know you were an Angels fan! You don't remember taking them with you? "

"You wanna toss that into the back?" Mick throwing his cap into the rear seat and placing his thermos on the floor behind Carl's seat... the image had suddenly become clear in Davis's mind.

"Davis?"

"Oh, sorry, Rafael. I was a million miles away... Yeah, been an Angels fan since way back," he'd lied. "That's my stuff, all right. With everything that happened, I completely forgot about it."

The voice at the other end of the call had snorted. "Not too surprisin' from the looks of this fine car. What do you want me to do with these things? I could give them to your department for safe-keeping..."

The detective had thought fast. "No, I'm not gonna be back there for a while. Administrative leave, you know."

"Oh yeah. I know how that goes." The worker had laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound. "You shoot some scum-of-the-earth ass wipe, tryin' to keep the rest of us safe... and they rake you over the coals. That's another reason why I'm not out on the streets. Life ain't fair, ya know?"

Carl had thought of Mick St. John, his body shredded after using himself as a human shield to save the detective. "No, it isn't. Thanks, Rafael. I owe you."

"You don't owe me squat." The motor pool yard master had abruptly hung up.

As he headed to the bedroom to dress, toweling off as he went, Carl decided that retrieving those articles was not high on his 'To Do' list - not with all the other pressing items he had. Starting with Jamie...

End Song: Future Nostalgia, Dua Lipa