Chapter 67

TBD

Intro Song: Thank You, Leona Lewis

"That was an amazing dinner! I swear, if I ate one more bite, I was going to pop out of this dress!" Jamie shifted in her seat to view the driver. "You tryin' to knock me off my diet, Carl Davis?"

Carl smiled at his companion. "Not me! It's The Engine Company - it does that to a person every time." He couldn't help staring at her - discretely, he hoped. The fitted, off-the-shoulder black dress showcased every curve. To his way of thinking, she was perfection. "Besides, it beats me how you would think you need to watch your diet. Have I told you how beautiful you look?"

Even in the darkened car, Jamie's blush was visible. "Not as pretty as you," she teased. She'd seen him in shirt and tie before – almost all detectives wore them. Tonight, however, he was exceptional in a three-piece, black-on-black pinstripe Italian-style suit - complete with fedora. He looked nothing like his usual no-nonsense self. Instead, it seemed he had an alter-ego who had decided to make an appearance.

"Why, thank you." A wide smile crossed his handsome face.

Focus, Jamie! She had been guarded and careful for understandable reasons up to now – she had a job to do that had nothing to do with her personal needs and desires. She'd gone to dinner with Davis for purely professional reasons. At least that's what she told herself. The tragedy in San Diego, however, had caused her to reassess her perspective on all of this. Those frightening hours and days afterward had driven home the harsh reality that the same people who had attacked the vampire and the detective could very easily come for her next. Tomorrow was not promised to anyone…

"You're quiet all of a sudden. Is everything okay?"

She opened her mouth to issue the standard response - but something stopped her. Instead, folding her hands in her laps, she told the truth. "No… everything isn't okay."

Carl's head whipped in her direction. "Wanna talk about it?"

Jamie stared down at her hands, and started absently picking at her cuticles – a nervous habit she'd had since childhood. "I…" She drew a breath. "I don't know if I can. It's… complicated."

"When isn't life complicated?" he countered, purposefully keeping his tone playful. Inwardly, he tensed. Come on, Jamie, tell me. Don't make me drag it out of you…

"I think- " She hesitated, and then seemed to reach a decision. "Look, can we go somewhere to talk? I just don't want to do it… here." She frowned at her own lack of eloquence, hampered by her deep desire to confide in Carl, her growing attraction to him – and her fear of what the truth was going to do. Yes, she had a job to do, but either way, this was enough! Carl needs to know. He deserves to know.

"Sure. Um… coffee shop? Or something stronger?"

"How about your place?"

Carl's surprised look was genuine; he had not anticipated that. Shit! "Uh, yeah, okay…"

Something about his tone hit Jamie like a dash of cold water. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. "No, no – forget I said that. It's fine, really." She feigned a smile. "I guess I'm just tired – I'm still dealing with… stuff."

Damn it! You blew that one! "I hear ya. I'm still processing myself." His mind raced back to the desert before returning to the present with some effort. "I'm just glad that Mick is gonna make it." His voice softened. "He's a good guy, you know. He didn't deserve what happened to him – especially not trying to save my sorry ass."

Despite her own reservations, Jamie reached out and took his hand clutching it gently. "It wasn't your fault, Carl. None of it was." No, it was mine. She tried for a lighter note. "Besides, I would never classify your ass as 'sorry'!"

Davis smiled slightly, but inwardly, he was in turmoil. When he'd started this evening, the plan had been so clear, so simple. Get her to relax, let down her guard...and get answers. He'd interrogated beautiful women before. Hell, he'd seen so much during his tenure that physical charm, frankly, had little impact on him where suspects were concerned. Mothers pimping out their own kids, girls dealing drugs, women murdering their families – he was so over the myth of "the fairer sex"…

"Carl? Hey…"

"Huh? Oh, sorry I zoned out on you." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I went somewhere I shouldn't have." That much is true.

"It's understandable. You've been through a lot."

"So have you – and dealing with Ben right now can't be easy."

Jamie rested their still-conjoined hands in her lap. "Well, I try to ignore him - and I really like Beth. Even now...I mean, with all that's happened, she's tried to make sure we know what's going on. She's emailed, texted – at least I can rest a little easier knowing Mick is getting better. But Ben…" her voice trailed off. "Can I be brutally honest here?"

"With me? Always."

"The man is an asshole – a self-absorbed, selfish asshole. No… I take that back… at least an asshole has the decency to stay hidden most of the time."

Davis burst out laughing despite himself – a laugh that started deep in his chest and rolled out, clearing away some of the conflict within him. It felt good.

Jamie blurted,"I'm sorry, but sometimes, you just have to call' em like you see' em, you know?"

"Yeah," the detective replied, his laughter finally subsiding, "sometimes you just have to come clean."

His companion fell silent again, turning to stare out of her passenger window. In the dark, the only thing she saw was her own troubled image, staring back at her. Why did she feel like everything was falling off a cliff in slow motion? It was probably her own stress wreaking havoc on her nerves – or maybe the simple fact that she was out on a date with a man she was sorely attracted to. And it couldn't be happening at a worse time.

Add to that, her guilt over the fact that Carl was now in real danger, mostly thanks to her own brilliant suggestion that Auxilium should look to him as a point of contact. Oh, and lest she forget - her failure to contact Mick St. John in time to, at least, warn him of what was coming. So many good and decent people hurt, and it was only going to get worse. Her head spun with the need to make sense of it all.

She had always been a good girl - came from a good Christian family, went to the right university, kept her nose clean – no drinking or carousing. She was supposed to have a normal, quiet life. I didn't ask for any of this. Not the hurricane, definitely not Auxilium and sure as hell, not Crucis. But no one put a gun to your head and forced you to join Auxilium. She told herself that it was a way to right the wrong of Katrina, to help a race she didn't begin to understand – but she did understand being targeted for harassment and violence because of being 'other' and that had seemed to be enough at the time.

With the sickest of ironies, all the craziness had led her to be here at this moment, with this beautiful man who was everything she hadn't even realized she was looking for…and, whom she was just going to lose anyway. Not since the levies broke had she felt so completely helpless. Goddammit! I want my fucking life back! I'm so tired of this fucked-up shit I want to scream! But all she could do was stare out a car window - and cry as quietly as she could. She did have her pride, after all.

"Hey… Jamie… hey… what's going on?" Davis pulled the car into a quiet side street and parked at the curb. Shutting the engine off, he turned to the young woman. "Talk to me… I'm right here… Whatever it is, you can talk to me. Believe me, there isn't anything I haven't heard before."

Jamie let out a short, cynical laugh but didn't turn from the window. Carl put one hand gently on her shoulder, feeling her shudder at his touch. He wasn't sure what was causing it, but he knew what was happening. His occupation had made him a student of human nature; he'd been around enough people to know when someone was at the breaking point. "You're safe with me, Jamie. No matter what it is – you can tell me."

His gentleness, his urging… she wanted so desperately to believe he meant it, but in the end, it was all… "Bullshit!" she spat, whirling on him suddenly and shoving his hand off her shoulder to wave hers violently in the air. "You're full of shit! The whole goddamned world is full of shit! There is no such thing as safe! I KNOW THERE ISN'T!" With a sense of defeat, Jamie gave up and openly wept.

The stunned detective tried to regroup. Well, now what, Davis? His mind worked furiously. Either Jamie Sommers was agent/actress extraordinaire – which went completely against what his years of honed instincts told him – or… whatever the hell was going on with her, that chat transcript was only the proverbial tip of the iceberg. He mentally leafed through all the women who had burned him, his ex-wife at the top of the list. The women he'd seen through the years who had lied, cheated, used, murdered... all of them able to turn the water works on and off like a spigot when it suited them. No, he'd been wrong before, and it had cost him dearly. But then, there were also the ones who just needed help, who needed someone to be there for them. The ones who lost faith until someone showed them that there was still kindness in the world, that there was someplace safe…

"My fault... I should have talked to him before this... Aren't we supposed to be the good guys here?"

The words from the chat log came back to him clear as a bell. No way could she have known she was being logged, which meant those words had to have come from her heart. Whatever had transpired, she had not meant to hurt anyone. In fact, it appeared that she was trying to help. She may even be at odds with her superiors – a scenario he was personally all too familiar with. He remembered, too, her reaction when seeing the pictures of the dead children in Talbot's file. Those tears were real, as were her words when she had explained why she was so affected. She'd been through hell even before coming to Los Angeles – and things apparently weren't any better here. And you haven't done much to help that, have you?

Was giving her a decent chance and the benefit of the doubt really all that bad? Would he be any worse off than he was right now? For good or ill, he reached a decision. Here you go again…The detective reached out and took her hand, holding it tightly. "Jamie… Jamie, listen to me!" The unexpected touch and force of his words caused her to raise her head and look right at him, her tears subsiding for the moment.

He took a breath and made a leap of faith. "I know," he began gently.

"What?" she asked, looking back down at their intertwined hands.

"I know. Do you think you're the only one tired of bullshit?! Damn, I deal with it every day. I know what it's like to think that nothing you do matters, or is going to make the world one bit better. I know how some days the weight of it all makes you feel like you're suffocating." He rubbed his thumb over her hand and added softly, "And I know what it's like to have no one to talk to – no one you can trust. We need to really talk, Jamie." Reluctantly, he disengaged his hand from hers to grip the steering wheel and turn on the car. "So let's have a change of plans - we're taking a little trip."

She dabbed at her eyes. "Where… where are we going?"

"Well, first, to grab some coffee - hope the Starbucks in Ladera Heights works for you."

"And then?"

"Wherever you want, whatever you want. After we talk though." He smiled to take any unintended harshness out of his words. After hesitating, he decided to ask the question that had been on his mind since he'd first met this lovely young woman. "What do you want, Jamie?"

The question made Jamie's heart race unexpectedly. Screw it! She reached over and placed her hand on his thigh, embarrassed, but determined not to let more time slip away.

"You." She hadn't thought; she'd just reacted.

The car swerved slightly – he had not been expecting that! Regaining control, Davis glanced at her skeptically. He knew all about that kind of comfort, and the "buyer's remorse" that usually followed. He would not take advantage of a hurt person – though that hand of hers was definitely stirring up trouble... He somehow managed to refocus. Clearing his throat, he stammered, "You… you don't mean that… I mean, I- I don't want you to do something you'll regret..."

"Too late for that," she responded with unintended sharpness. Catching herself, she went on. "Sorry, that wasn't directed at you. It's just that I've been good – or as good as I know how to be – all my life. I went to mass, didn't cause my parents any problems - unlike my crazy brothers. I got a scholarship to go to college, graduated with honors, then got my master's… planned out everything, or so I thought." She closed her eyes for a moment while she tried to think of how best to explain herself. When she opened them, it was to see him staring at her, his gaze piercing, so piercing she had to look away.

"Carl, I just want to not have to think, plan, or worry about what happens afterward…just this once. I want to feel… close... with someone I actually like and trust – and find very attractive." There, she'd said it.

He wanted to believe she meant it. He wanted her, no doubt about it – he'd been fighting that attraction since the day they met. Still, he had a job to do...

"I'll make you a deal… we'll go back to my place – on the condition that you and I talk about things first. We both have a lot we need to come clean about before we… you know." His good intentions, as usual, were costing him. Way to go, there, genius. A gorgeous woman has basically let you know she wants to sleep with you, and you want to talk. That's it! Accept it. You are never, ever getting laid in this life again!

Common sense spoke up, talking over his libido. You don't really know this woman, Davis! But the continued warmth of the soft hand resting on his leg made his judgement all the more cloudy. He wanted to believe her, to trust her - but he was no different than anyone else. His present was affected by his past – and as a detective, he could not ignore the computer evidence that indicated she might very well have had prior knowledge of the attack on federal and local law enforcement. He was duty-bound, as an officer - and as a friend of Mick. St. John - to uncover the truth.

As for their personal relationship... they would talk about all that. Later. His libido sighed and retreated. Well, you've gone and done it. We are definitely not gonna get laid. Again.

"Just like you to be in an orgy freezer room... alone."

Mick's eyes flew open. Josef had startled him out of a deep, uneasy sleep, filled with nightmare sights and sounds that he couldn't quite capture. The downside of morphine? He jerked his head up to get a good look at his friend.

"When did you get in? And... really, Josef? Who would wanna be with me right now, looking like... how did Ryder put it? Oh yeah, like a bad tailor tried to put in a zipper." His words were slurred and halting.

Josef grinned at his friend's droopy eyes and slow speech. "Man, you are bombed out of your gourd, aren't ya?"

"Yep," Mick responded happily. "I was out on the terrace for a while, so Beth cranked up the drugs for me."

The wide, Cheshire cat grin that spread across the younger vampire's face made Kostan double over with laughter. "I love it. I need to get Spector to hook you up more often."

Few people knew just how funny Mick could be; it was one of the things that had drawn Kostan to him when they first met. In those moments when he wasn't sullen, morose, or otherwise obsessing about being a vampire, St. John was one of those rare people whom Josef genuinely enjoyed. He sobered, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm glad you felt well enough to get out there. Looks like she even washed your hair, which is a good thing – using blood as a hair gel wasn't going to catch on." He paused for a moment, looking down at his friend, his eyes traveling down the length of Mick's still badly-damaged body. "This was too close, Mick. Way too close."

"You're tellin' me."

Josef was surprised that Beth was nowhere in evidence. "So, where's the little woman?"

"Sent her off to bed hours ago - had to kick her out. Told her I was gonna sleep anyway - which I was until you came in."

"Oh, please. Cry me a river. You've done nothing but sleep for days now." Kostan folded his arms across his chest, his crisp dress shirt rustling as he moved. "She's been a champ through all this, you know that, right?" Without waiting for a response, he continued. "I don't know how much you remember, but she stayed with you through everything - Guillermo digging around in you, your guts hanging out, you screaming... Beth hung in there through everything. I couldn't even stay - but she did."

"Well you always were a wimp." Mick grinned wolfishly up at his friend.

"I'm serious, asshole," Kostan's eyes flashed at his friend.

Mick sighed. "I know, Josef, I know."

"Then, what are you going to do about it?"

"What do you mean?" Mick frowned; he was genuinely puzzled by his friend's question.

"Look, you know me. Normally, I'd be telling you to run the other way, but with Beth..." Josef shrugged. "Well, it's a different story with her. Don't stake me for saying this, but I think you should get serious. Go out on that very thin limb of yours and make a commitment. And I'm not just talking heavy dating or a key to your place."

Mick raised himself up on his elbows as high as he could tolerate. Hadn't his best friend stood in his penthouse only a few weeks ago, commenting on his 'commitment issues'? "Okay, am I more stoned than I thought? Is this Josef 'Freshie Farm' Kostan telling me I should settle down?! What's next? You adopting a bunch of kids with Simone? Gonna be the next Brad and Angelina?"

"Don't be a dick!" Josef snapped. "I didn't say I should settle down - I said you should. I'm beginning to think Beth is the only person who can keep you out of trouble - and, quite frankly, my business can't survive many more episodes like this. It took a damn army to save you and put you back together." He ran his gaze meaningfully down his friend's battered body. "Sort of back together, that is."

Mick sank back down on the bench, the small movements already sapping his strength. "I know. I'll be good. Promise."

"Uh-huh, sure you will. I know you too well, Mick. The first thing you're going to want to do when you are finally back on your feet is go after the guy who put you here."

"And you wouldn't?" Mick raised an eyebrow incredulously at his friend.

"Of course I would – and I will, you can bet your sore ass on that. But I'll be smart about it. You'd go off half-cocked and pissy - and then whine when things didn't go your way. That's another reason Beth is the right woman for you - she tolerates your whining and bitching."

Mick opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. "You're right," he admitted sheepishly.

"Damn, I love the stoned Mick!" Josef exclaimed with a smirk, rocking back on his heels. "I swear, I'm gonna doctor your blood from now on." He wanted to say more, but his friend's drawn, tired face stopped him. "Time for beddie-bye, Mick - for both of us." He walked over to the storage unit built discreetly into one wall. Withdrawing a fresh bag of blood, he carried it to his injured friend and swapped it with the empty bag. "Need anything else?"

Mick shook his head cautiously, being careful to keep his body still as he did so. "I'm good as long as the morphine holds out. Just can't do much yet, sorry."

"Well, you aren't supposed to do much yet. Just hang out and heal - and, from the looks of it, grow facial hair like a fucking gorilla. Maybe we can talk the lovely Beth into giving you a shave tomorrow."

The injured vampire closed his eyes with a loopy smile. "I could get on board with that. Good night, Josef."

"Night, John-boy."

Josef closed the freezer room door quietly behind him, relieved to see his friend doing so well. He caught himself and snorted. Any person seeing Mick for the first time would be appalled at his condition; the sight of his injuries would probably have them crossing themselves and saying a prayer. Well, everything in life is relative...

He headed out to find Simone.

End Song: Army, Ellie Goulding