Just a Kiss, Chapter 6
Title: Just a Kiss
Fandom : Moonlight
Characters : Mick, Beth, Josef, Simone
Rating : R, for some sexual content and strong language.
Spoilers: Post -"Sonata"
Summary: Eleventh in my post-Sonata series. Josef finally confronts Beth with his growing feelings for her, and it has serious consequences for his relationships with Mick and Simone. Told from alternating pov's of all the main characters.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters; no copyright infringement intended.
A/N: Thanks for all those great reviews. You guys rock! I’m getting this chapter out a little faster than I expected, given just how busy I’ve been, but I was inspired. Let me caution you-- the second part of this chapter might be a little disturbing to some. Proceed at your own risk.
Chapter 6
BETH
It had been a long day, and all I wanted to do was pour myself a glass of wine, pop some leftover Chinese food into the microwave, and relax. But it wasn’t to be. Josef Kostan was waiting for me in his blue BMW across from my condo. I pulled into my usual space in front, asked God for strength, and crossed the street to meet him. He rolled down his window and I felt the frigid air from his air conditioner.
“You look like hell,” I said without sympathy.
“Why thank you, Beth. Good to see you too.”
“What do you want?”
“To apologize. Again. To tell you I was leaving town for a few days.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to accept your apology, and why do you feel the need for me to keep tabs on you?”
He hesitated, looking away, then back at me. “Just in case Mick tried to get in touch with me. You and Mick are my only…family.”
Josef was a big part of why my day had sucked, and I wasn’t feeling particularly patient with him. My knuckle still hurt from punching him, and my heart was hurting for Mick at his best friend’s betrayal. To me, that damned kiss was a non-issue, but what hurt Mick, hurt me.
“Why don’t you tell him yourself? No-wait.” I slapped my forehead for effect. “You just screwed things up with him, and I seriously doubt he’ll be contacting you any time soon.”
“Actually, he was just at my house a couple hours ago. He’s not answering my calls now…”
I stayed quiet, letting my silence speak for itself. I crossed my arms in annoyance. I even tapped my foot. He continued, undaunted.
“And yes, the general consensus is that I fucked up, but could you give him a message for me? Tell him…I’m doing what he asked. It’ll take a few days, but I’ll call him when I get back.”
I met his brown eyes, suddenly missing the sparkle of mischief I usually saw there. I felt my face soften. He did look like he’d been hit by a truck. I knew he’d be completely healed in a day or two, but he was looking pretty pitiful right now, and I wasn’t just talking about his injuries.
“Okay,” I said finally, cursing myself at my lack of fortitude. “I’ll tell him. But I don’t think he’ll like that you dropped by again.”
He smirked. “Yeah, I took my life in my hands coming here. But I know you didn’t feel what I didn’t feel, back there in the cemetery. You can’t blame a guy for trying, though.”
“Actually I can. I do. I’m not mad at you for me, Josef, I’m mad because you even thought I would cheat on Mick. With you. Especially with you. You seriously need to get your shit together, and start working on getting Simone back. And you’d better pray she doesn’t find out about this, or you’ll lose her forever.”
He hesitated, his eyes widening at my words. He swallowed. “Are you…are you going to tell her?”
I looked at him, at how remorse was nearly oozing out of his pores. This could be a way to make him suffer. But I always felt sorry for kicked puppies. What can I tell you-it was a weakness of mine.
“No, not now,” I conceded reluctantly. “Not unless she asks me directly. But you’d better make this up to Mick somehow, or I just might.”
He laughed a little. “You’re scary when you blackmail.”
I leaned down so I was right in his face. “Josef, you ever hurt Mick again like this, and you’ll experience a whole new definition of scary. What he did to you will look like child’s play when I’m finished. Are we clear?”
He saw how serious I was, and while we both knew I wasn’t much of a physical threat, the feeling behind my words was genuine. I could hurt him in all kinds of ways and he knew it.
“Crystal. And Beth, I really am sorry. It was a stupid impulse, and I’m paying for it, believe me. I don’t want to lose Mick’s friendship, or yours for that matter, Blondie. Can you-will you forgive me?”
“Yes. If you swear nothing like this will ever happen again, and that you do whatever Mick needs you to do to make this up to him.”
He sighed, obviously, touchingly relieved. “Thanks,” he said humbly. “I’m off to do just that.”
“Can I tell him where?”
“No, but I promise I’ll fill him in on all the details later. See ya around?” It was a question, not a statement. His eyes were pleading and hopeful at the same time.
I sighed and offered him a small smile. “You’re an asshole, Josef Kostan, but fortunately for you, you’re a loveable asshole. That’s why I’m confident that, in time, Mick will forgive you. Just don’t do anything else stupid. And yes, I’ll see you around.”
“Great.”
His car window went up again, and he gave me that old, familiar elfin grin. I watched him speed away, nearly dizzy at the notion of how quickly things can change. Or maybe it was hunger, I thought, as my stomach growled insistently. If there were some egg foo young left, the day wouldn’t be a total waste.
JOSEF
Her dark red hair cascaded over the cream satin pillow as I lay next to her on the bed. It was soft and smoothly curling, and I held a curl between my fingers, leaning in to smell its freshness. Honeysuckle. She always wore honeysuckle. It was sweet and innocent and old-fashioned, just like her. I wished she would open her lively green eyes, so I could see them light up as they always did when she saw me. I couldn’t resist caressing her porcelain skin, warm and vibrant beneath my fingertips, and I gently kissed her soft cheek, hoping it would awaken her, like all those stupid fairy tales we read to children. Sarah Whitley was never going to wake up, but it was high time I did.
I stayed there awhile, in her bedroom in the brownstone on Waverly Place, moving each lifeless finger to interlace with mine. I wondered for the millionth time if she dreamed, but the vampire doctor I’d hired had said he’d detected no brain waves. I lay my cheek on her chest, and I could still hear the steady thump of her heart, the shallow breaths that barely inflated her lungs. She was trapped between living and dying, somewhere between vampire and human. She required no human sustenance; the blood drip was all that was needed to keep her body alive. Her heart beat, but she hadn’t aged in over fifty years. She was as perfect as the day I drained her body till her heart stopped, then tried in vain to revive her with my own.
“You’re an anomaly,” I said aloud, bringing her hand to my lips, “but then, you always were. What other kind of woman could make me go against all the rules I’d set for myself regarding human-vampire involvement? But I’ve left you in this limbo for far too long, a symbol of all the other selfish things I’ve ever done. I never thought of what this might be doing to you, to your soul. Mick’s right. I am a self-centered bastard. So, I’m letting you go, my love. I’m setting you free.” I felt the tears on my cheeks, but I let them fall unheeded.
I looked around the room, at this place that had been her prison for fifty years. It was decorated in soothing earth tones, and soft fabrics, gently lit in eternal readiness for her reawakening. But I’d just been fooling myself. There would be no cure. The vampire scientists and doctors I’d had on this for years had come up with nothing. None of them had ever seen a turning go wrong in quite this way. I would watch their pitying looks after each experiment was tried and failed, and it was all I could do not to snap their necks, both for their incompetence and their audacity to feel sorry for me. Sometimes, they were brave enough to point out that, even if we woke her from her coma, the lack of brain activity would mean she would never truly be with me again. But I refused to listen, or to let myself believe them. I only had to look at her beautiful, ageless face to allow my hopes to be restored. Now, I was finished lying to myself, and to her.
I got off the bed, let go of her hand, and wiped my face on my sleeve. I reached into my jacket pocket and drew out the syringe I’d brought, noting in some surprise that my hand didn’t shake. The thought occurred to me that this was her lethal injection--potassium chloride--just like they gave inmates on death row. For a moment, second thoughts overwhelmed me and I froze, unsure if I could go through with this. I closed my eyes, willing the panic to subside. When I opened them again, I avoided looking at her; I knew her timeless beauty would weaken my resolve.
I went to the other side of the bed and clamped off her blood supply. Then, forcing myself to think clinically, I removed the cap from the syringe and turned her arm over. I took a deep, unneeded breath, and gently slipped the needle into her vein, pushing the plunger of the syringe, watching the liquid leave the clear plastic vial and journey into her body. When it was empty, I removed the needle, recapped it, and dropped it in the waste basket. It was only then that I could look at her again.
Nausea washed over me and I fell to my knees, disbelief at what I’d done making me feel physically ill. Almost desperately, I climbed back up to her bed, laying my head once again on her soft chest. As the poison made its way to her heart, it jerked and clenched, racing for a few moments before stopping, then, it resumed beating, more slowly, skipping beats now, and I listened for what seemed like hours between each faint thump. Her body gave a great sigh, and I heard her lungs release one last breath. Her heartbeat faded away like the delicate wings of a butterfly. And then she was gone.
I looked up at her face, surprised it still looked the same. From my pants pocket I took the little red flannel bag that contained my heart, the symbolic one I’d given her so long ago on that spring day in Central Park. I reached up and lifted her head so I could fasten it around her neck, laying her gently back on the pillow, adjusting the gold chain and heart so it rested perfectly in the sweet valley between her breasts. She was dressed in powder blue today, the frilly nightgown one of the many expensive pieces I’d contributed to her trousseau over the years. It had been one of her favorite colors.
A sob suddenly escaped my lips, ripping from somewhere in the vicinity of my dead heart. My head dropped again to her chest, and I squeezed my eyes shut, balling like a baby long after her body turned cold.
****
I don’t know how long I lay there, but I could tell by the light that it was dawn. I’d given Paula, her caregiver, the night off, and I heard the front door open quietly as she came in to relieve me. I got up and straightened my suit and tie, running my hands through my matted hair. I was just pouring myself a drink when she came in the open door of the bedroom. She looked from me to Sarah and back to me again, and I saw in her face the instant she realized what I had done. She nodded to me in understanding, and went over to Sarah to take her hand. Of course, there was no pulse, no warmth. She was just a shell, but I guess the only difference was that before, she was a warm shell.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kostan, for your loss. I think she must be at peace now.”
Paula had been about tenth in the long succession of caregivers and hired nurses over the past fifty years. A vampire herself, she knew the whole sad story, and empathized. I liked her because she looked on me with understanding instead of pity. I was sorry her services were no longer needed. I sniffed a little as the tears threatened again, downing my drink to cover my emotion.
“Would you like me to take care of any particular…arrangements?” She asked after a few moments.
“I’ll have someone remove the-remove her to the crematorium. I’ve instructed that her ashes be spread in Central Park. She loved it there.”
She smiled a little in sympathy.
“Thank you,” I told her, “for your years of service. I’ll be sure you get a bonus, and top references from me.”
“It was my honor, Mr. Kostan. There was something ethereal about her. Like an angel.”
Paula came over and touched my arm, then left as quietly as she’d come.
I suddenly couldn’t be there anymore, myself. I went over to Sarah and leaned down to softly press my lips to hers. I pulled the sheet up over her head, the sudden feeling of relief making me feel guilty at the same time. But I knew I’d done the right thing for her. For me. Yeah, and originally it had also been to fulfill Mick’s requirements, but the minute I’d gotten there, Mick hadn’t even entered my mind. Mostly, I knew now, I’d done it for Sarah, and for the sanctity of her memory, of the love we had shared
“Goodbye, my love,” I whispered. I walked out of the house and down the steps to my waiting limo, allowing the driver to open the door for me.
“Where to, sir?” He asked after we were both settled inside.
“To the Dakota,” I told him. There was something else I had to put to rights.
A/N: I know this chapter might be controversial for some of you, but please remember, this is something the character of Josef did. I tried to emphasize that Sarah was brain dead, and that there was no hope of her ever awakening. To those of you who have had to make a difficult choice like this in your life, my heart goes out to you. I tried to handle this with respect for people who’ve been in this awful position.
That being said, if you’ve only been lurking out there, I hope you feel compelled enough to let me know what you think of my work. It means so much to me that people-actual people-are reading this. Your reviews keep me motivated. Thanks in advance! More soon.