Chapter 66

Take Care

Author's note: I confess to being a blues fan – so I'm really glad Mick is too! The song at the end of this chapter is one of my favorites by a blues duo. Beth feels like she needs to protect and take care of Mick now – but can she really, in a world as dangerous as this one has become?

Intro song: Is It Love, iio, Nadia Ali

"Did you hear what I heard?"

Logan cast an amused glance toward his fellow vampire geek as he took another sip from his cup. "Sure did."

Ryder England shook his head. "Mick St. John... girlfriend... Why do those words not seem to work in the same sentence?"

"Why do you say that?! Beth's a great girl! You're a real asshole, you know that, Ryder?!"

"Whoa!" Ryder held up his hand in capitulation, caught off guard by Logan's unexpectedly vehement response. "That's not what I'm saying! Calm down!" He continued. "I just meant that Mick is definitely the loner type. Of course, I haven't known him as long as you, but you get a feeling about people - and I certainly hear things, and see things. I remember when I first met Beth in Josef's office. She's the kinda girl who's hot, but doesn't really seem to know it. Anyway, I saw how Mick kept watching her like he was obsessed with her, maybe wanted to jump her bones right there. Hell, he even gave Josef a 'back off' look for checking her out."

"Really?! Sure you aren't exaggerating?"

England shook his head emphatically. "Nope!"

"Well, that woulda been fun to see!" Logan smiled at the image - Josef Kostan, eternal playboy, put in his place. "Then why don't you think that he and Beth could work?"

"Damn, dude! That's not what I said! It's not about her. It's that Mick is the kinda guy - the kinda vampire - who usually ends up alone. He had a fling with Guilia once but I've never seen him with anyone else. I mean, come on, he's not exactly the most sociable person you've ever met."

"Neither am I," Logan pointed out. "And, it's not like you're on the party circuit either."

"Well maybe I should just shut up," Ryder said defensively.

"Nah... my bad. These last few days have made me edgy, I guess." Logan wrestled to put his thoughts into words, taking another swig from his glass. "It's just - I've spent more time with Mick and Beth than you - one-on-one and together. The night when all this... happened... she and I were playing World of Warcraft at my place."

Ryder guffawed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. Beth was just looking for something to kill time 'till Mick got back. She had a- a sixth sense about it. Texting Mick the whole time. She could barely focus on the game, always checking in with him to make sure he was okay. You shoulda seen the smile on her face when she got messages from him - and how scared she was when everything went wrong."

Logan shook his head. "You can't fake that, Ryder. What they have is about as real as it gets."

The lanky vampire studied his heavier companion, comprehension dawning on him. "You really care about her, you freaky geek. Better not let Mick know."

"Yeah, I do - but not that way, you idiot. And, why the hell not?" Griffen responded defensively. "You can't help but like her once you spend some time with her and get to know her. She's that kind of person. Besides, Mick is my friend - has been for years now." Logan lowered his voice - a reflexive trait, if not a useful one where vampires were concerned. "I'm just saying, treat Beth with respect, especially when Mick's around. Hes gonna be back on his feet soon and he won't tolerate her being jerked around by anyone. I'm giving you fair warning not to even go there with him - trust me on that one. I made that mistake once..." He trailed off with a detectable shudder.

He had first hand experience with how volatile Mick St. John could be when sufficiently pissed - prying into his past during one foolish evening of card playing had triggered the private investigator's legendary temper. To be fair, he had had no right to snoop - and Mick had later apologized profusely for flying off the handle. "Anyway, it's just good to see him happy. I hope they work out, I really do."

"Me too," Ryder agreed. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he added, "Better knock down another glass or two while we have the chance - night duty awaits and we still have a lot of searches to finish for Mick."

"I don't know about this," Mick said doubtfully, eyeing the nozzle in Beth's hand.

True to her word, when they reluctantly left the terrace, she had insisted that Mick be helped to Josef's personal spa room to be washed up. Each of them would have been happy to stay out in the dark indefinitely, but after an hour of quiet bliss, Beth could sense that Mick was tiring. She had called for his friends over the vampire's protests.

"This won't be your only time out, Mick. You need to pace yourself."

Reluctantly, he had agreed. Now, he found himself stretched out on one of Josef's massage tables with a small but determined woman standing over him, gripping a water nozzle in one hand.

Fortunately for both of them, Josef had installed the same amenities at Temecula that he enjoyed at his Los Angeles mansion. The room was fully-equipped with mobile tables for massages, steam showers, and a bay for spa treatments such as manicures, facials, and most importantly... hair-washing. All Beth had needed to do was have Mick lie down on one of the massage tables and then roll it over to the shampoo station.

Now, she shook her head vigorously, reaching up to tuck back the stray blond strands that had escaped her headband. "Don't tell me you've never been on one of these tables for a massage, Mick St. John!"

"Well... not here. Only at Josef's house in L.A." He looked up at her, his eyes still a swirling mixture of silver and hazel, although the poison's cast was, finally, starting to diminish slightly. "And that was with professionals."

Beth snorted. "Just what kind of professionals are we talking about here?"

Mick grinned. "Only licensed professionals, of course. Why, Beth, are you... jealous?"

She looked down at him, her lips twitching with a suppressed smile as she hefted the nozzle in her hand speculatively. "Do you really want to go there, Mick?" Reaching over, she twisted the handles to start the flow of water, testing the temperature with her free hand. "This water can be comfortable... or not."

"Be nice, please," he pleaded, his hoarse voice sending an unexpected shiver of desire down her spine.

Bending over, Beth placed her mouth next to his ear, her lips just touching it. "I'll be good... that's better than nice," she whispered seductively. Smiling, she straightened and trained the lukewarm water over his head, her unencumbered hand gently stroking his hair as she dampened it. She tried to ignore the dark red tint of the water hitting the porcelain basin below him. I'm going to get all this damn blood out of his hair if it's the last thing I do!

Mick closed his eyes with a tired sigh, his thick lashes casting shadows on his pale cheeks. The feeling of Beth's fingers gently massaging him, combined with the water cascading over his head, was heavenly - but even more so, was the still-new sensation of being loved and cared for. His eyes flew open as Beth leaned over him to reach the shampoo, her breasts accidentally brushing against his face as she did.

Quickly she pulled back, blushing furiously. "I'm sorry. That wasn't on purpose, I promise!"

"You're kidding, right? Come here." He pulled her face down, touching his lips lightly to hers. "Mmmm. You taste good."

"Oh, no you don't," Beth protested, laughing. "I'm getting you cleaned up, and that's it!" She pushed herself upright, clutching the shampoo in one hand and the water nozzle in the other. "No horsing around!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly, releasing her - but not before he allowed his hand to drift across her breast, grinning as she gasped at the touch. Still blushing, Beth turned away and he watched her cross the room, enjoying the swaying movement of her hips as she made her way to the far wall.

"Something the matter?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows with difficulty.

"Nope," she called from the other side of the room, punching some buttons on a panel on the wall. The strains of Norah Jones singing 'Broken' began to float through the air as she returned to him, smiling. "I made use of my time while you've been out of it over the past few days and got some techie instruction from Logan and Ryder. I can pretty much run this house from these panels now." She realized with a start the song that the singer was crooning. "Maybe that's not such a good choice, come to think of it. I can change it..."

Mick glanced at her tired face, and tentative smile. She's trying so hard. He sank back down with a sigh. "No, it's fine. Love Norah, no matter what she sings. Makes me think of that night on the floor…"

"Okay, enough. Remember what Dr. Spector told you - no excitement," she scolded. In point of fact, the memory of that particular night made her face warm again. The wonderful evening at Babe & Ricky's, swaying with Mick in the living room, his story about his first dance with a girl, making love on the floor...

She gripped the nozzle tighter. Stop it, Beth! Shaking her head, she concentrated on what she was doing, and began to slowly work the shampoo through Mick's hair, taking her time, enjoying the opportunity to fuss over him. From the blissful look on his face, she guessed that he was enjoying it as well. She rinsed the now-pink suds from his hair and repeated the process over and over, gently working loose stubborn flakes of dried blood, until there was finally no hint of red in the water.

The towel she pulled off the rack was warm and fragrant. "Heated towel racks... I love rich people and their toys," she murmured, rubbing at his head gently. I wonder why they aren't chilled towels? She made a mental note to ask Josef sometime, but suspected it had something to do with the same humans who had filled his "Closet of Shame."

When she'd finished toweling his hair, it hung in ringlets around his face. Combing the curls back with her fingers, she apologized. "I couldn't find a brush or comb anywhere, Mick, sorry. These 'professionals' of Josef's must bring their own supplies."

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. "Don't think it matters. Not like I'm going to a fancy ball anytime soon - or anywhere else, for that matter. Thank you, Beth."

Her eyes ran down his body. "I'm not done yet," she stated, with more feeling that she had intended.

Mick's eyes glittered. "Under other circumstances, that comment would get me excited... but, sadly, I have the feeling you mean something different from what I'm thinking."

"Wow, you really are starting to feel better!" she teased, getting more towels and wash clothes from the supply in the cabinets, and fussily arranging everything within reach.

"You have no idea," Mick grinned at her wolfishly, his mind filling with images of their lovemaking sessions. He groaned. They had all told him that Dr. Spector had left explicit instructions for his care – when Mick woke up, he was to have no activity - including sex – and no exposure to the sun. Nothing that would stress his severely-taxed body or put strain on his as-yet only partially healed incision. This mental exercise was not helping any more than the music was... With effort, he refocused on Beth. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"A sponge bath," she responded promptly. "Except... no sponges." She raised a washcloth.

"Are you qualified? Because I know you aren't licensed!"

"I'm very qualified, I'll have you know. I gave my mom lots of sponge baths before she..." Beth trailed off as unwanted memories overwhelmed her. She clutched the washcloth tightly to her as she struggled to deal with the images of her terminally-ill mother. She hadn't thought about her mother's illness in several years. Because you won't let yourself. The scenes replaying in her headhit her hard.

Mick's hand on her wrist was as gentle as his voice. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Watching over her from a distance, he had not been privy to the happenings within the Turner household on a day-to-day basis when her mother was sick - but he'd seen enough from afar to know it had to have been a terrible time for her.

Beth cleared her throat loudly. "I'm fine," she smiled down at him, her eyes suspiciously bright. "And,you are not getting out of this, mister - not even by calling me 'sweetheart'. Sorry. It's bath time."

She gently worked off the t-shirt she had so recently put on the vampire, the white surface dotted with blood from his activity. Tackling the gauze wrap with a pair of manicure scissors she found in a drawer, she worked silently for several moments to remove the wrappings. As the last strip fell away, she announced, "There! No more mummy."

"Actually," Mick confessed, "after you got the bandages on, it felt pretty good, especially when I was moving around. I mean it," he added when he caught Beth's skeptical look.

"I could wrap you up again when I'm done."

Mick shook his head. "Not if I'm going back in the freezer. That would not be comfortable."

The freezer room... Beth had managed to block that out of her mind over the past few hours, pretending that this was their reality - the vineyard, the terrace, the spa room... Nope, no normal here, Beth!

"Forgot, sorry," she confessed, reaching up to comb her fingers through his still-damp hair. Her fingertips stroked his forehead soothingly. What I wouldn't give to just lie in a bed with him right now...

Mick reached up to encircle her bandaged wrist carefully with his hand. Pushing himself upright again with painful effort, he braced himself with one arm while he used his free hand to pull her open palm to his mouth, kissing it gently before holding it to his chest, above his incision. "Are you all right?" he asked again, concern evident in his voice. His face was level with hers, their noses almost touching, as he studied her intently. "Talk to me, Beth."

"I'm fine, Mick. Really." She took a deep breath to compose herself, and forced her gaze to meet his eyes. She really didn't know exactly what she felt - a mixture of relief, remorse, fear, anger, love, worry perhaps... it all combined to churn her insides and exhaust her. Just the thought of having to go back into that accursed freezer room set her nerves on edge. "I just need some sleep," she added, tugging unsuccessfully to free her hand.

"I know you do, but there's more going on than that. Tell me." He tightened his grip on her, his voice suddenly firm, no nonsense. "I'm not letting you go until you do."

"I just -" She took a tremulous breath, and turned her face away as tears started to slip down her cheeks. Impatiently, she dashed them away and tried again. "I just want to go back to things being normal for us. That's all."

"Uh-huh." Mick put a forefinger under her chin to lift her face back to his. "You know that 'normal' is never going to be possible for us, right?" He waited for her acknowledgement, the pain inside him worse than the ache around his healing incision. She's going to realize she just can't handle this anymore...

"Why not?!" she burst out furiously. "Why can't we at least have our version of normal? Why is it impossible for us to just have a relationship, work, make love, go on with our lives?! Is that asking too much? I mean, yeah, this is crazy – a human and a vampire. But we've adjusted. We've adapted. We were making it work - and we weren't hurting anyone!"

With a rush of relief, he realized that her 'version of normal' had come to include him - and all the complications that came with sharing a life with a vampire.

"I don't know, Beth," he answered truthfully. "I can't answer that. Prejudice, maybe? Fear of the unknown? Plain old craziness? I just don't know." He shook his head. "I can't tell you that things like this can't happen again, that we can safely go back to normal, whatever the hell that is for us. I'd be lying if I did. But I can tell you that I'm going to hunt these people down. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that the people I love are safe."

"I know you will. That's what I'm the most afraid of," she responded quietly, her eyes haunted. "That puts you at risk. I- I don't think I could go through this again."

Mick reached up to touch her cheek and wipe away a stray tear. "I was caught by surprise at Campo. That won't happen again, I can promise you that. But, if you need to be sure that there won't be any more trouble or that nothing will happen to me, well..." He shrugged his shoulders, trying desperately for a nonchalance he didn't feel. "That I can't promise."

Beth's struggle showed in her face, love and desire warring with fear and outrage. "I swear, Mick, if anyone hurts you again like that, I'll... I'll..." She sputtered, words failing her as her small hands curled into fists.

He burst out laughing, defusing the tension. "Hey, I'd be afraid of you, that's for sure."

"Do not patronize me, Mick St. John."

"I'm not, I swear. You've saved me before; you could do it again." A small figure, standing in a church vestibule, looked up at him. I won't leave without you, I promise. I love you, you know. He shook his head and the vision evaporated, leaving him suddenly weak and light-headed. He sank back down onto the padded table, grabbing for the bag of blood at his side.

Beth helped him guide the tubing to his mouth. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just getting a little tired." He took a long pull on the blood and swallowed the life-giving liquid, hating his dependence on it.

"I'll make this fast and then we'll get you back in the freezer room," Beth promised, mentally removing the idea of shaving him from her 'to-do' list for the day. "Keep drinking that blood."

Carefully, Beth draped Mick's torso with one of the thick towels, uncovering only the arm with the IV tubing attached. She quickly and competently washed and rinsed his arm quickly, dabbing cautiously around the site of the IV, and then covering him again. She repeated the actions with his free arm, and then started on his chest.

"Wow, you are good at this," he quipped, tucking one muscled arm behind his head to watch her work on his chest.

"Got that right, stud. I could be a 'head nurse' somewhere," Beth responded, eyes dancing. She drew the washcloth slowly down his chest, rinsing it in warm water frequently as it became stained with a combination of blood and betadine.

The image arose of Guillermo prepping him for Spector's surgery, draping and cleaning Mick with the dark orange disinfectant as best he could. He's fine now, he'll be fine, she told herself. What about next time? Maybe he won't be so lucky next time... She had no comeback for that thought. Instead, she focused on her work, stroking him as tenderly as she could, the sight of his battered body bringing a lump to her throat. "Oh, Mick," she whispered, "please take care of yourself." She looked up at the touch of his hand on her hair.

Mick's silvery eyes glistened in the light. "I'm so sorry, Beth. I never wanted to put you through anything like this." He stroked her hair lightly, the silky strands sliding through his fingers. With his free arm, he pulled her back down to him for a lingering kiss. "I wish I could do more for you," he said quietly, his lips next to her ear, berating himself for being unable to protect her from being drawn into this dangerous world.

Beth misunderstood his comment. "Dr. Spector said no, you know that!" Pushing herself up, she stated emphatically, "Bath only!" Ignoring his protests, she rinsed the washcloth with warm water again and continued cleaning him off, smiling to herself as she felt him relax, his hand slowly dropping to his side.

Peering closely at the long slash on his chest and abdomen, she exclaimed excitedly, "You really are starting to heal, Mick. I can see several spots where your incision is almost closed up!" When he didn't respond, she lifted her head to see his eyes closed, breathing in and out in a slow, regular rhythm, his face relaxed in sleep. Beth studied him for a long moment. He's starting to look almost like himself again. With that happy thought, she took his hand for a moment, feeling him squeeze in return, take a deep breath, and settle into deeper slumber. The freezer could wait a while longer. Pulling up a chair, she settled in to watch over him, humming along with the music and softly stroking his damp hair as she would a small child's.

"I'll take care of you, Mick," she whispered.

End song: I'll Take Care of You, Beth Hart, Joe Bonamassa