Moonlight, The Next Chapter: Darkness

Chapter 21

Restless

Intro Song: Restless, New Order

The week had passed uneventfully - too uneventfully for one very bored vampire.

Because the story of the ambush had been plastered all over the media – along with his picture - Mick was unable to take on any new cases or roam the city. If someone were to recognize him from all the press coverage and question how such a grievously injured man could be out and about so quickly, he would have no answers. Besides that, his injuries and subsequent convalescence were the tools to keep reporters - and Ben Talbot - at bay. He could ill-afford to blow that cover.

Yet the escapade with Beth at Carl Davis' house had reminded him of how much he enjoyed what he did - especially when she was involved - and how much he missed it. He was definitely not cut out for the life of an invalid, real or fake.

Knowing time was weighing heavily on the P.I., Josef invited him over every day. Mick went on occasion, but Kostan's world was not his own. He loved the elder vampire like a brother and enjoyed his company, but a little of Josef went a long way, especially now that he relentlessly teased Mick about his relationship with Beth.

He also knew that the billionaire had work to do - deals to make, investments to tend, a whole financial empire to run. Josef had tried to draw him into it as a way to fill his time, but Mick hated the world of finance. His father had forced him into it for a brief period - albeit, at a much different level than that of his hedge-fund friend - but it had left the vampire with a bad taste in his mouth.

Kostan had tried, unsuccessfully, to convince him that what he did was different. "It's legal piracy, Mick! You know, pillage, plunder and...well, maybe not rape, but you get the idea."

Intellectually, Mick knew his friend was probably right. Emotionally, however, the baggage from his past got in his way. All these years later, he could still see his dad, red-faced and furious, after their last heated fight over his refusal to work with him.

"Goddammit, Mick, you'd think they never taught you to follow orders in the Army! Did you disobey your CO like that?!"

Mick, who by that time was a battle-scarred, hardened veteran of World War II, five years older than he'd been when the war ended, had flushed angrily as he'd glared at the older man.

Colin St. John was shorter and stockier than his younger son, but they shared the same shock of thick, wavy dark hair. His disapproving eyes, however, were dark grey, like threatening thunder clouds on a winter day. Mick had inherited his mother's warm, blue-hazel eyes, the color of an spring sky.

"Dad, I just thought-"

"I don't pay you to think, I pay you to do! When you learn a lot more about the business, then maybe you can think! Right now, your job is to keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut!"

Mick remembered clenching and unclenching his fists over and over, all the while thinking, "It's your father. You can't hit him." But, oh, how he'd wanted to!

Colin had ended that argument as he did most of those with his younger son - by comparing Mick unfavorably to his older, now-deceased brother. The younger St. John boy always came up wanting in his father's eyes.

"Your brother, Michael, understood that. He never went off and tried to make a living at something idiotic like music. He appreciated the job I gave him. He kept his nose to the grindstone and learned. Never gave me any back talk about it either. He loved working here. Why can't you be more like your brother?!

That particular fight, coming on the eve of his marriage to Coraline Duvall - an affair both parents had vowed to boycott because of their intense dislike for his bride - had been so bitter that Mick had not been able to restrain himself.

"Michael's dead, dad! Dead!" He'd almost screamed the word, hurling it like a weapon at his father. "Is that what you mean when you say you want me to be more like him?! You want me dead too?"

His father had slapped him. Hard.

"Don't you ever say anything like that again!" Almost immediately, the older St. John had regretted his actions. "Son, I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Let's sit down and-"

"Don't you ever hitme again!" Seething, Mick had rejected his father's apology, whirling and bolting out the door to keep from slugging him. They'd made up later, his father, guilt-ridden, apologizing again and again for slapping his son.

"I don't know what got into me, Mick. I'm sorry. I love you and I'm proud of you. It's just that I'm worried about you." Colin had put his arm around his son. "You're all I have left, Mick. I just want you to be happy."

He wasn't sure he believe him. Not then, not later. It had turned out to be the last fight he had with his dad about work, or anything else.

Mick's parents had made no secret of their concern over his relationship with Coraline. He'd been bull-headed about it at the time. Later, of course - when it was much too late - he'd wished he'd listened to them.

His mother had ended up attending his wedding despite her misgivings. Her love for her son overcame her feelings about his bride. His father, true to his implacable nature, never changed his mind. Colin St. John boycotted his only remaining son's wedding. After the ceremony, his mother had whispered to him that his father wanted to talk to him, but, of course, that night, his new wife had rendered any further discussions about his life or career aspirations, moot by turning him into a vampire…

He had re-played his argument with his father over and over in his head through the years, wishing he had made one last effort to connect with him or at least know what his father had wanted to say to him. Was he going to apologize for their fight? Wish him well? Warn him about Coraline? He would never know. The one time they had spoken on the phone after his turning had been a strained conversation. His parents had been hurt by his apparent abandonment of them and Cora had ensured that he was unable to explain why he was staying away by making him think that he would be a danger to them, that his vampire tendencies couldn't be held in check. She even convinced him that he could lose control and kill them.

He never got to say goodbye to them when they died within six months of one another.

"Thank you, Coraline," he muttered bitterly. Yet another thing the bitch had taken from him.

Beth didn't know about this ugly part of his past - but Josef did. He knew and he understood. So, while he always offered Mick a seat at the table, he never pushed. That didn't mean he didn't take care of the younger vampire, however.

Kostan's financial wizardry had made Mick St. John a millionaire many times over. He wasn't in the same league as Josef, but he would never need to worry about money. This was another aspect of his life that Beth wasn't privy to yet. She also didn't know that he owned the building in which his penthouse apartment was located.

He hadn't withheld the information because he didn't trust her. The very last thing Beth Turner would ever be was a gold digger. Instead, it was just the opposite. He was fearful that the idea of so much money would scare her off, ruin their relationship. She was skittish enough about a life with a vampire. He was afraid that life with a millionaire vampire might cause her to turn tail and run for good.

When Mick had shared this concern with Josef late one night over drinks, the billionaire had not understood his reluctance to come clean about his wealth with Beth. "So, let me get this straight. Pretty much every other woman on the planet, when told that her boyfriend was actually a millionaire, would run right into his arms and profess her undying love. Miss Turner, on the other hand, would run away?!"

Mick had allowed himself a small smile. "That's pretty much the size of it."

"I have to confess, I don't understand your girlfriend at all!"

As if on cue, Mick's phone began to buzz, crawling across the smooth desktop like a living thing as the incoming call caused it to vibrate.

With a sigh, he picked up the phone. "What's up, Josef?"

"I'm bored."

Mick laughed shortly. "You're bored? What does that make me?"

"I will refrain from answering that. There's nothing happening here. Markets are doin' nothing. I've got no meetings, no calls... Come play."

"Play what?"

"I don't know! Pool, poker, guess-the-bra-size...fielder's choice."

Mick couldn't help but laugh, feeling better in spite of himself. "Okay, that last one sounds intriguing. Your place?"

"We can start there," the vampire replied vaguely. "No plans with the fair Beth for tonight?"

"She's meeting some friends after work for drinks somewhere."

"Girl friends?"

"I think so. And - no, Josef."

"No what?" Kostan asked as innocently as possible.

"No, we are not going to meet them."

"Not good-looking, huh?"

"That's not it," Mick retorted. Exasperated, he ran one hand through his long hair. "They're not freshies, for god's sake, Josef. They don't know about us."

"Maybe it's time they found out." Kostan was having fun needling his friend. His boredom was receding already.

"No!"

Josef tried another tact. "So, what happens when they get drunk and need a ride home? Can we meet them then?"

"They won't need one. Beth's friend, Alison, is pregnant."

"Doesn't she know you shouldn't drink when you're pregnant?"

"Dammit, Josef!" Mick roared, his patience pushed to the breaking point. "Forget about them! Do you want me to come over or not?!"

"Sure," Kostan responded as mildly as if they had been having a conversation about the weather.

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?!"

"Nope." There was a long pause before the billionaire added, "Smiling pretty big though." He could hold in his amusement no longer, chortling as he hung up.

Mick stared at the phone for several seconds before starting to laugh himself. Josef somehow had managed to pull him out of his funks - or at least get him to see the absurdity of his moods.

He frowned as his eyes dropped to the papers strewn across his desk top; his neat nature compelled him to put them into some sort of order before he left. Quickly sorting the various stories, legends, purported eyewitness accounts and scientific ponderings by country and shoveling them into files, Mick thanked his lucky stars for the incredibly fast visual acuity of vampires. Tonight, while Beth was sleeping, he'd give them a closer read. He could only hope that somewhere, in the hundreds of pages he'd printed out, were the clues he sought.

ADA Ben Talbot waited for his usual end-of-the-week call from his mentor, staring at the phone on his desk as if it were a poisonous snake poised to strike. Edward Garfield rarely missed an opportunity to catch up - although, to Ben, these calls were beginning to feel more and more like the older man was checking up rather than catching up.

Don't let him get to you. He means well. With a start, Ben recognized those words - they were the ones he'd so often heard in conjunction with his father. When had his relationship with Edward changed? He used to look forward to these weekly calls as a chance to reconnect and garner advice from the man he idolized. Now...

As the phone rang, Talbot sighed heavily. Now, talking to Edward had become just another chore in his endless 'to-do' list.

"Hey, Edward, happy Friday. How's Donna?"

"She's...Donna. You know, beautiful, loving, gracious...and needy." Garfield's voice held a slight note of impatience. "I'm gonna ship her off with her sister for a spa weekend so I can get some work done."

Ben frowned into the phone, pushing around the files on his desk as he talked. "That's kind of harsh, don't you think?"

"Probably," the older man conceded with a sigh. "I don't really mean it. Truth is, she probably needs the break from me even more than I need one from her. She loved seeing you again. You made her weekend, you know."

Talbot felt a pang. He'd not been going to the Garfield home much of late - although he'd certainly seen Donna and Edward more than he had his own parents since he took on the job of ADA. He told himself it was just his workload, but he knew it was really tied up with how he'd been feeling about his mentor lately. While he'd enjoyed the abbreviated weekend with them, he was, in all honesty, avoiding the man whenever possible - and, by extension, his wife.

"I know. I've just been buried with all the crap from that fiasco down south - and a new boss."

"That's what I told her. I understand - and, for the record, so does she. Just come back when you can." Garfield hesitated for a moment, then added, "Donna thinks of you as her son, you know."

Because you wouldn't let her adopt a child! Talbot's temples pulsed with unexpected anger. Years ago, in a drunken, late-night moment of indiscretion, Donna had confided this to him. Edward had been out of town for two weeks on an extended political junket with the governor and, knowing how lonely she felt when her husband was out of town, Ben had shown up to surprise her and keep her company for a weekend. His mind flashed back to that conversation.

"But, why not, Donna? You'd be a wonderful mother. Hell, you've been one to me!"

"It's not that. He just doesn't want to take on what he sees as someone else's problems." She'd looked at him with saddened eyes, adding in a disgusted tone. "He likens it to buying a mongrel versus a pure-bred dog. You just don't know what characteristics you are going to get, what the breeding will bring out." She'd shaken her head. "Your...uncle...is a real nature over nurture kinda guy. I guess he's seen too much."

Ben had moved over to sit next to her and put his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder. The unfairness of that had struck him then, as it did now. Donna Garfield had been nothing but a good and loyal wife, a loving woman who had embraced him as if he were her own. He still remembered all the times in college when an envelope containing a substantial amount of money would show up in his mailbox. Always with the same note enclosed.

Ben,
Use this money for something fun - but please don't mention it

to Edward. I miss you and I'm proud of you.
All my love,
Donna

Why was it so important that Edward not know? Would he have objected? He'd never asked Donna but it was all he could do to resist posing that question to her husband now. If he hadn't been sure it would come back to bite Donna instead of him, he would have. Instead, he had to handle questioning from his mentor himself.

"So, Ben - you were never able to get Christophe in front of Mick St. John or your detective, is that correct?"

You already know that. Ben put his free hand up to massage his aching temple. "Not St. John, Edward, I'm sorry. I sent Christophe an email to apologize to him as well. Beth just didn't think Mick was ready for company, and apparently, his doctor agreed. There wasn't much I could do."

"Perhaps you needed to push her a little more." It wasn't a question.

"No, Edward. I didn't need to." Ben's words were clipped. "First, you counsel me to go easy on her and be supportive, then you want me to push her. You can't have it both ways. I haven't even been able to see Mick yet myself. In all honesty, I'm still not sure why Christophe felt the need to meet him."

"It doesn't matter what we think, Ben. Christophe is a wealthy, powerful man. Wealthy, powerful men are used to getting their own way."

Just like you, Ben thought unkindly. He swallowed his resentment. "I understand – but even you said that it was probably good for him to have someone tell him 'no' for a good reason." He let those words fall into the air ."I know we both owe him - especially me. I told him that, by the time he comes back to California, I should be able to make it happen. He seemed okay with that."

"What about Davis?"

Talbot thought back to that uncomfortable conversation, shifting uneasily in his chair. "He called me and told me he's been cleared to return to work. He'll be back full-time on Monday so I can definitely get a meeting with him for Durand when he comes back.

"Good! Did he have anything to say about why he's been out so long?"

"Just that it was a particularly traumatic situation and it's taken him a long time to come to grips with it. St. John surviving has helped, he said. I got the impression that he's seen him in person."

"Davis has visited St. John but they are keeping you away?"

"It would appear." Ben braced himself to be harangued.

The older man surprised his protégé, however. Mildly, he asked "Okay, well, that's probably good news for you getting to talk to him soon too. Anything else going on?"

"Business as usual." Talbot didn't mention the meeting he had coming up on Monday with DA McNeil over the San Diego 'incident.' Edward would expect him to handle that without help.

"What about the woman Christophe asked you to give a job to?"

Ben chewed on his lower lip as he searched through the papers on his desk. "I just got his candidate's resume yesterday afternoon." Pulling a heavy cream sheet out of the stack in front of him, he said, "I'm looking at it now. She appears great on paper and we're already scheduled for a phone interview early next week, and then a face-to-face when she gets out here. If she's as good in person as she is on paper, I'll give her a job." The ADA added, "That one won't be hard. I could actually use someone with her credentials."

"Good." There was a long silence before Edward spoke again. "Look, Ben, I know you think I'm being hard on you - and maybe I am - but I know how much help Christophe could be to your career. He knows people you can't even dream of getting in front of. He's the kind of supporter that could really help you get somewhere. I want that for you. The question is - do you want it?"

Do I?

"Yes," Talbot responded with more certainty than he felt. "I'm sorry you even had to ask. I've been distracted by everything that happened, but that's no excuse. I know you're giving me a real opportunity here and I won't let you down."

"I'm glad to hear that, Ben. I know high-level politics isn't for everyone. It can be brutal and you always end up owing someone something. If you decide it's not a good fit for you, you just need to let me know." Garfield hesitated, then said, "I'd love you either way, son. I hope you know that."

Ben found himself touched by the unexpected expression of love and support. "I do, Edward. Thank you. Have a good weekend - and hug Donna for me."

After disconnecting the call, Ben's blue eyes narrowed as he replayed the end of the conversation in his head. Did he really believe what Edward had said? "I'd love you either way..." Somehow, he doubted it.

Suddenly, he couldn't stand to be in that office another minute. Jumping up, he grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair and headed out. Turning off his office light, he was startled to see the outer office in darkness, every seat empty. He glanced at his watch and swore. How did it get to be 7:30? When did you give up having a life?

With a sigh, he made his way through the darkened office to the elevator, punching the button almost viciously. Loneliness washed over him in a huge wave. A drink...at a noisy bar full of life...that was what he needed. "Maybe two or three drinks," he muttered as the elevator doors slid silently open. Yeah, definitely two or three...

End Song: Follow My Feet, The Unlikely Candidates