Cause Offence (Moonlight)
Cause Offence
Author: tari_roo
Rating: PG16?
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing, but if I did, Mick would have had two more seasons and there would have been an episode just like ... this!
Warning: Mentions of torture, hardcore whump and ... very little comfort. Hello - vampires! Wee bit dark...
Summary: the term for whump without plot? Beth decides to surprise Mick and gets one of her own instead when she discovers Mick has been attacked. Hurt!Mick.
Spoilers: Set post Moonlight 1.16
AN: As usual, I am a sucker for saphirablue’s clon!Mick’s puppy dog eyes. I also made the mistake *snort* of mentioning this WIP, so I whipped it into a semblance of pointless whump and fully expect to get one review - from saphira. Because, we both... are shameless J
*
It’d been two weeks. Two weeks of hectic work, running down information on several cases for the DA’s office. Double checking facts. Interviewing witnesses and informants. Getting up early to talk to the coroner, staying up late to speak to Guillermo, falling asleep at her laptop twice. Working as a reporter had been exhausting at times, but this... this was crazy. A quiet, cynical part of her had wondered if Talbot was deliberately keeping her busy - but she was too tired to give it much thought.
So, somehow, two days of missed calls to Mick became two weeks of not seeing him at all, and trading voice mail messages. But at last, it was the weekend (Friday to be specific) and with no open cases and no pending work, Beth pulled up outside Mick’s building, intent on surprising him. Maybe making him watch her eat at some restaurant would be a little too much, but ordering in would let him eat in private with her - if he felt comfortable enough with that.
Beth impatiently waited for the elevator to ding, suddenly eager to see her... boyfriend? Grinning at her own inner giggling girl who was singing ‘Beth and Mick sitting in a tree’, Beth restrained herself from running out of the lift, and walked calmly down the corridor. A little bit lost in thought, it took Beth a moment to see what was wrong... the door was open. Mick’s heavy, super solid, ultra security door was just open, a small crack. But a crack that shouldn’t even be possible.
It wasn’t difficult to start worrying, even if this was Mick and he was a vampire and uber tough and ... Mick. But she still had nightmares about Josh, the heavy stench of blood, his shuddering, final gasps. Unintentionally, Beth slowed, her heart skipping a few beats, stomach churning with fear. “Mick?”
The silence in the hall sounded unnatural as she strained to hear anything. A whimper, a rustle, a sigh. Or better yet, near-silent footfalls as Mick let her hear him approach.
Nothing.
Biting her lip, steeling herself, prepared for ... whatever and hoping she was being silly and all that had happened was Mick leaving in a hurry. A stupid burglar breaking in. A harmless, stupid thing. Not...
This. Not the smell of blood.
Months and months ago, Beth knew exactly what blood smelled like, what a crime scene smelled like. As a crime reporter it was one of the downsides of the job, but you got used to it. You had to. Cops had it worst, decaying bodies, the actual crime scene, blood splatter, the ugly mess people left behind. Usually the crime scene tape was an annoying barrier, but Beth knew it was also a protection, a necessary one.
Today though, right now, there was no crime scene tape. No barrier. And oh boy did she wish there was one.
At first glance there was nothing out of place in Mick’s apartment, but then the wrong, wrong, wrong jumped out and smacked you in the face. The blood. It was everywhere. And vampire blood didn’t smell any different than human (probably because it was human blood, actually). And it was then that you noticed the upheaval, the broken coffee table, the overturned chair and you wondered how on earth you missed it at first.
A heartbeat was all it took, one second to blink, gasp and then Beth was moving. Mick was near the wall to floor bookcase, his desk broken, lying in two pieces on the otherside of the counter top. The other downside to being a reporter was occasionally catching a glimpse of some truly truly horrible crime - a dead hooker spilt wide open, a little girl knocked over by a car. This? Was nothing like that at all.
Beth didn’t think about it, not really as she ran towards Mick, her body moving ahead of her brain. But her brain caught up pretty darn quickly and as she knelt beside him, her pant legs sticky from the nearly dried blood, Beth paused... uncertain, terrified. What in the hell?
Her hands moved on their own accord, traitorous traitorous body still not listening, still acting on instinct and they hovered around the stake in his heart. The thick, smooth, polished stake.
“M.. Mick?”
Eyes wide open, unseeing, and pale vamped out blue. No response.
“Mick?”
The stake in the heart paralysed him - the vampire version of handcuffs - immobilise and incapacitate. But the rest? Beth swallowed, a wave of naseau washing over and through her. Mick was spread-eagled on the floor, a long stake driven through his heart - but there was also a stake in each wrist, and ankle. Five stakes. One to immobilise, four to pin him like a bug to the floor. The force behind the stakes had driven through flesh and bone and straight into the wooden floor below.
Gently, Beth touched the stake in his chest, terrified of hurting him, knew she wasn’t. Take it out? Leave it? Licking her lips, heart pounding, Beth gave the stake a tentative tug. Mick couldn’t heal until the stake was out. It was stuck - fast.
So was the one in his wrist nearest her. Immovable - at least for her.
“Mick?”
He’d been able to speak before - when staked. Was... was he even alive?
Knowing it was absolutely ridiculous, Beth leant forward, hands still fluttering like her heart, and felt his neck futilely - humanly - stupidly.
“Please...”
She glanced back at Mick, stretched out, long legs spread wide, arms out to the side - it had to hurt. But it was everything else that made bile rise in her throat, stomach revolting. Mick was bare-chested, and his pale, porcelain skin was torn and broken - long angry slashes over his chest and arms. Deep cuts, thick with blood. Flicking her gaze back at his face, wide staring eyes, Beth swallowed the urge to vomit. She could still see the pain on his face, the angry scream. Long canines bared, wrists bleeding as he fought to be free, snarled and hissed ... and bled.
Staked to be tortured and then left pinned to the floor... to die.
Beth staggered to her feet, fumbling for her phone even as her knees trembled, threatened to topple her over. The number and contact took a while to find on her phone, her shaking hands making a mess of the small buttons. She hit dial.
It took forever for the call to go through, and be answered. ‘Please, please be alive.’
“Beth, to what do I owe the pleasure... although this really isn’t a good time. I..’
“Josef, its Mick. He’s been... he’s been attacked. I’m at his apartment and he’s staked - to, to the floor.”
Josef, ridiculous, childish, irresponsible, scary scary Josef snapped at her, all teeth and anger. ‘Pull it out, Beth!”
“I, I ... can’t. I tried... it’s its... they’re all too deep, er... stuck.” Beth knew she sounded terrified, right at the point of breakdown. Smart, capable, in control Beth loosing it on the phone with Josef Kostan, with the smell of blood, Mick’s blood in the air.
“How many? How many, Beth?”
“Er, five.”
Josef sounded every bit as old as he was, as nightmarish as he could be when he snarled through the phone, ”I’m on my way. Call Guillermo. We need lots of blood. Give him some of yours... “
And then he was gone. Beth stared at her phone because it was easier than looking at Mick. Easier... easy wasn’t an option. Biting her lip, hard, Beth took a deep breath and fell to her knees beside Mick again. Her small switchblade was never used - except maybe to peal an apple in an emergency, but she found it quickly. And without thinking about it, refusing to give it any thought, Beth sliced her inner arm, far from the wrist. The blood welled instantly, and she leant forward, holding her arm over Mick’s mouth.
The trickle of blood was tiny, minuscule compared to what Mick needed, but it was a test... Beth knew it. A test. How much undead life was in Mick. How far gone? How close to death?
Her blood painted his pale, broken lips red, dropped onto his tongue, spotted his teeth. Beth watched the slow trickle with intense concentration, desperation clawing with dire need in her heart. Please.
The vampire version of a pulse check.
Seconds ticked by, Beth thought about making another cut and then... movement. Small, hesitant, a snake tongue flicker of movement. But it was real, not imagined, because he did it again.
Relief overwhelmed Beth, the gasp of laughter ridiculous and inappropriate but oh,...”Mick?”
There was no response to his name, but his mouth moved, a stiff forced swallow. Beth pulled back and half ran, half stumbled towards the kitchen. It was hardly touched by the fight, still pristinely neat. And the blood store was undisturbed. Grabbing several bags of plasma, Beth ran back to Mick, fought with the clasp of one and stopped, uncertain.
Was there any point in giving him blood if he was still staked? Could vampires drown... in blood, if they couldn’t swallow? Hesitation and uncertainty stayed her and Beth slowly put the bag down.
Time ticked by unheeded, unwanted. Heart pounding, Beth reached out and touched the cold smooth skin around the stake in his chest. The skin was bruised, bloody. Bruised and... broken. Like a butterfly skittering over a field of red and white flowers, Beth’s fingers traced the clotting wound right below the stake. Deep and wide the cut followed the angle of Mick’s rib cage, cutting into the soft flesh between rib bones. All the way down his entire left flank there was a cut between each rib. Not always just one, sometimes two, or three close together, close enough to be one massive, ugly, wound.
“Oh... oh,” Beth stammered, fingers suddenly burned, suddenly aching fiercely.
“...th.” An exhalation. An imagined, impossible whisper but Beth heard it. Heart leaping, Beth leant forward, eyes darting all over Mick’s face.
“Mick?”
His tongue, red with blood, moved, flinched as if in pain and it was the faintest puff of breath. ”..eth.”
“Josef,.. Josef’s on his way, just hang on, ok? Hang on!”
As if summoned by that command, Josef was suddenly in the room, looming over her. Beth startled and then gulped. He must have flown... maybe literally to get here so quick, and his face was terrible. Mouth open, long canines glistening in the light, hollow bruised eyes pale with anger, Josef snarled, “Did you call Guillermo?”
Guilt burned through her, and Beth stood quickly, shaking her head, mouth stammering, “I... shit, shit shit... he’s alive, Josef, the blood, he... drank... I... shit!”
Somehow Josef moved her to one side, gently but firmly and Beth found herself blathering incoherently at Guillermo on the other end of her phone. Whether she told him enough, Beth had no idea because one second she was talking and the next she was listening to dial tone.
“He, he’s coming.”
“Get out.”
Josef was hovering over Mick, his narrow back blocking the horrific sight, and Beth sobbed, “Please... I....”
Josef whirled, snarling, that angry sound vampires made sending shivers into her soul. “Get. Out. Now!” He was right in front of her, face close enough that Beth winced, nearly stepped back. “You are a living blood bag, Beth. A ready, available source of blood and I don’t want
Mick regretting something he’d have no control over. Something I’d struggle to stop. So, get out!”
Beth felt cold, ice running through her veins, her warm, life giving veins. Vampires needed blood to heal. Desperate vampires couldn’t, struggled to think. Mick was going to be ...
She nodded and gasped, “Please... I... call me when... please.”
Josef stared at her for a moment before nodding, “Get the neighbours out of here if you can too.”
Beth’s head was spinning, feeling as if her own feet were someone else’s as she walked towards the door, constantly looking back - at Mick. As she reached the door, she reached out to steady herself, feeling faint and shaking. “Do you know... who would do this, Josef?”
He didn’t turn around, but Beth heard him clearly - as if he was whispering into her ear.
“Dead men, Beth. Every single one.”
Beth nodded, sharp. And left.
*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m
Josef ignored the bags of blood for now. In the silence of the apartment, the silence left when Beth’s heart beat could no longer be heard, Josef snarled quietly to himself. Dropping to one knee, uncaring of the sticky blood, he leant forward to see for himself, the flicker of life.
“Who the hell did you piss off, Mick?” Josef sighed, and rested his hand on Mick’s head, thumb rubbing his forehead. The whole room stank of vampire, old vampire. Beth’s blood on Mick’s mouth was drying, but the life it had stirred was still there.
One hand still on Mick’s head, Josef studied the rest of his friend, growling a little. Five stakes. Six were traditional. One for each limb. One for the heart. And the sixth reserved for wherever the interrogator felt it was deserved. Between the legs. Through the throat. Into the navel. It was the death blow, the rapid bleed out.
Pissed off enough to do this to Mick, but not enough to kill him outright.
Satisfied he hadn’t missed anything, Josef traced a circle on Mick’s forehead with one hand, and with the other grasped the stake in his ankle, and pulled. It came out reluctantly, making a sickly pop as it did, wet and slick with blood. One foot free and then the next, both stakes tossed aside with force.
Mick’s eyelids flickered. Josef continued to trace the odd circle, watching Mick’s face as he pulled out the stake in his left wrist. The stake in the right wrist was the most stubborn, the deepest into the floor and Josef had to tug at it several times before it slid out. “They made that one count, huh? Probably the last one.... made it hurt?”
Not expecting an answer, nonetheless Josef shook his head. “You’ll never reach a hundred if you keep making people this angry.”
Feeling the moment of déjà vu keenly, Josef bit his own wrist and let his blood trickle into Mick’s mouth as well. “For luck and ... just in case.” But unlike last time, Mick didn’t respond beyond the small tongue movement. Every little drop helped.
Guillermo eventually arrived, breathless and loaded with blood, and Logan was on his heels carrying bags of ice. “Shit.. what the hell?”
Josef snarled and they both hurried over. Guillermo began unpacking the cooler bags and Josef snapped, “Is it fresh?”
“Today. And the type he likes.”
Logan was hovering, uncertain, and Josef growled, “Start packing the ice around him, and then grab his feet. He’s going to come up fighting when I take the stake out.” Logan nodded sharply, face pale, even for a shut in vampire. Guillermo nodded when Josef looked at him.
“Be fast, if we distract him with food quick enough...”
Guillermo nodded again, face grim.
Josef took a deep breath, wrapped his hand around the smooth, cool wood of the stake and pulled.
Mick shuddered, drew in a breath and came out swinging.
*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m
Mick dreamt.
Dreamt, and remembered arching off the floor, his back a crescent of pain as the stake was pulled out of his heart and feeling rushed back into his limbs, and curled and wailed around the stakes breaking bone, tearing sinew.
A blink, a shuddering breath of agony, snarling his pain and fury at the black eyed vampire standing over him.
That’s right. Struggle. Filthy cur.
A heavy boot effortlessly pinning his arm. A wicked smile. The point of the stake pricking his right wrist, the skin just broken, a bead of blood running down his skin.
Go on. Try. Fight.
The stake slowly, inexorably sliding into his arm, and breaking through the other side. Black eyes laughing at his scream. The pain not stopping, the wound widening, fingers a fixed claw of agony.
Humans like to pin bugs to cardboard. Little bug.
The glint of a silver knife, its sour taste already in his mouth, the blade glistening with his blood.
Mick awoke with a start, heart pounding, dripping with sweat and fear.
There was a vampire nearby, and instinct took over... Mick snarled but struggled to stand.
“Hey, hey, it’s me. Relax. Just bringing you a happy meal. Promise. Make you feel better.”
Josef.
The blood smelled like... warmth and love and sunlight and hopes and dreams and Mick sucked it down, strangely full already but still starving.
Once the bag was empty, Mick leant back, head banging on the wall a little and took stock of where he was. In his bedroom. His refrigerated bed was open, unused. He was in a corner, huddled with his knees to his chest. The room was deliciously cold.
Josef was watching him, a soft sad serious smile on his face.
“Better?”
Mick shook his head, but muttered a ‘yeah.’
“Ok, good. But... “ Josef paused and took a deep breath like he was bracing himself. “I have a fairly good idea who did this to you.” Mick stared back at him, heart still pounding, shivering a bit. “More than likely it’s the family you didn’t know you had. Your in-laws.”
Mick nodded, sharp fast.
“And I’m guessing you... were looking for the cure?”
Josef tried not to sound disappointed or frustrated but he failed. Mick though shook his head and mumbled, “Coraline. Asked... around.”
“Ah,” Josef sighed, “Coraline. They took exception to your ... concern.”
Mick nodded, feeling his canines grow as he did so. “Came to ... teach me my place.”
Josef sighed again and moved from his crouch to sit next to Mick, ignoring the reflexive flinch away from physical contact, and pressed his shoulder against St John’s, both of their backs now pressed against the wall. “Well, in that case I have an uncomfortable question to ask.”
“Then don’t ask.” His throat hurt, badly. Like he had swallowed glass.
Unpersuaded, Josef continued, but did not look at Mick. “That, ah, royal family have a lot of rules and stupid laws. They’ve even allied themselves to some of the older vampire blood lines. Take their hierarchy and who gets turned policy very seriously.”
Mick snorted, well aware of this.
Josef said quietly, “But they are not above, and in fact rather enjoy, very brutal and ... animalistic, er tactics. Comes naturally to us, some of us, I suppose. Biting. Scent markers. Pack mentality.”
The wound on his wrist was still open and raw, barely healed. Mick felt a hunger stir within him, even though he was probably so full of blood he’d just throw it all up if he had more. Josef ran a hand over his face, mussing his hair, still not looking at Mick. “I know these... lessons, or punishments can... sometimes involve...”
“He didn’t rape me.”
Josef nodded and said, “But he threatened to.”
Mick brushed aside the memories and trace feelings of pain and growled, “Repeatedly.”
“It wouldn’t matter if he had.”
“I know.”
Josef stayed beside him, not looking at him, waiting and eventually Mick sighed, “I know you won’t agree, but I’m not going to look for him.
I... I really really want to rip his throat out but...”
“He’d probably rip us both apart, yeah, I know,” Josef snarled, and finally faced Mick, eyes pale, lips spilt and red. “But I still know people in the Old Country, still have a few favours to call in.”
Mick leant back, closed his eyes, and willed the rise of anger and revenge to back off, for now. “We’d start a war, a real blood feud.”
“Don’t care.”
“Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
Mick didn’t open his eyes, and Josef didn’t leave. “Did you tell Beth I was ok?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.”
Sleep was going to be impossible. Vampires rarely dreamed but memories and flashbacks were always around the corner, waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting mind.
“Will you stay?” Mick mumbled.
“I have nowhere else to be.”
And Mick fell asleep - for a little while.
FIN
AN: yes, as warned pointless, pointless whump (with very little comfort). Hope you like it, saphira. :)
Author: tari_roo
Rating: PG16?
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing, but if I did, Mick would have had two more seasons and there would have been an episode just like ... this!
Warning: Mentions of torture, hardcore whump and ... very little comfort. Hello - vampires! Wee bit dark...
Summary: the term for whump without plot? Beth decides to surprise Mick and gets one of her own instead when she discovers Mick has been attacked. Hurt!Mick.
Spoilers: Set post Moonlight 1.16
AN: As usual, I am a sucker for saphirablue’s clon!Mick’s puppy dog eyes. I also made the mistake *snort* of mentioning this WIP, so I whipped it into a semblance of pointless whump and fully expect to get one review - from saphira. Because, we both... are shameless J
*
It’d been two weeks. Two weeks of hectic work, running down information on several cases for the DA’s office. Double checking facts. Interviewing witnesses and informants. Getting up early to talk to the coroner, staying up late to speak to Guillermo, falling asleep at her laptop twice. Working as a reporter had been exhausting at times, but this... this was crazy. A quiet, cynical part of her had wondered if Talbot was deliberately keeping her busy - but she was too tired to give it much thought.
So, somehow, two days of missed calls to Mick became two weeks of not seeing him at all, and trading voice mail messages. But at last, it was the weekend (Friday to be specific) and with no open cases and no pending work, Beth pulled up outside Mick’s building, intent on surprising him. Maybe making him watch her eat at some restaurant would be a little too much, but ordering in would let him eat in private with her - if he felt comfortable enough with that.
Beth impatiently waited for the elevator to ding, suddenly eager to see her... boyfriend? Grinning at her own inner giggling girl who was singing ‘Beth and Mick sitting in a tree’, Beth restrained herself from running out of the lift, and walked calmly down the corridor. A little bit lost in thought, it took Beth a moment to see what was wrong... the door was open. Mick’s heavy, super solid, ultra security door was just open, a small crack. But a crack that shouldn’t even be possible.
It wasn’t difficult to start worrying, even if this was Mick and he was a vampire and uber tough and ... Mick. But she still had nightmares about Josh, the heavy stench of blood, his shuddering, final gasps. Unintentionally, Beth slowed, her heart skipping a few beats, stomach churning with fear. “Mick?”
The silence in the hall sounded unnatural as she strained to hear anything. A whimper, a rustle, a sigh. Or better yet, near-silent footfalls as Mick let her hear him approach.
Nothing.
Biting her lip, steeling herself, prepared for ... whatever and hoping she was being silly and all that had happened was Mick leaving in a hurry. A stupid burglar breaking in. A harmless, stupid thing. Not...
This. Not the smell of blood.
Months and months ago, Beth knew exactly what blood smelled like, what a crime scene smelled like. As a crime reporter it was one of the downsides of the job, but you got used to it. You had to. Cops had it worst, decaying bodies, the actual crime scene, blood splatter, the ugly mess people left behind. Usually the crime scene tape was an annoying barrier, but Beth knew it was also a protection, a necessary one.
Today though, right now, there was no crime scene tape. No barrier. And oh boy did she wish there was one.
At first glance there was nothing out of place in Mick’s apartment, but then the wrong, wrong, wrong jumped out and smacked you in the face. The blood. It was everywhere. And vampire blood didn’t smell any different than human (probably because it was human blood, actually). And it was then that you noticed the upheaval, the broken coffee table, the overturned chair and you wondered how on earth you missed it at first.
A heartbeat was all it took, one second to blink, gasp and then Beth was moving. Mick was near the wall to floor bookcase, his desk broken, lying in two pieces on the otherside of the counter top. The other downside to being a reporter was occasionally catching a glimpse of some truly truly horrible crime - a dead hooker spilt wide open, a little girl knocked over by a car. This? Was nothing like that at all.
Beth didn’t think about it, not really as she ran towards Mick, her body moving ahead of her brain. But her brain caught up pretty darn quickly and as she knelt beside him, her pant legs sticky from the nearly dried blood, Beth paused... uncertain, terrified. What in the hell?
Her hands moved on their own accord, traitorous traitorous body still not listening, still acting on instinct and they hovered around the stake in his heart. The thick, smooth, polished stake.
“M.. Mick?”
Eyes wide open, unseeing, and pale vamped out blue. No response.
“Mick?”
The stake in the heart paralysed him - the vampire version of handcuffs - immobilise and incapacitate. But the rest? Beth swallowed, a wave of naseau washing over and through her. Mick was spread-eagled on the floor, a long stake driven through his heart - but there was also a stake in each wrist, and ankle. Five stakes. One to immobilise, four to pin him like a bug to the floor. The force behind the stakes had driven through flesh and bone and straight into the wooden floor below.
Gently, Beth touched the stake in his chest, terrified of hurting him, knew she wasn’t. Take it out? Leave it? Licking her lips, heart pounding, Beth gave the stake a tentative tug. Mick couldn’t heal until the stake was out. It was stuck - fast.
So was the one in his wrist nearest her. Immovable - at least for her.
“Mick?”
He’d been able to speak before - when staked. Was... was he even alive?
Knowing it was absolutely ridiculous, Beth leant forward, hands still fluttering like her heart, and felt his neck futilely - humanly - stupidly.
“Please...”
She glanced back at Mick, stretched out, long legs spread wide, arms out to the side - it had to hurt. But it was everything else that made bile rise in her throat, stomach revolting. Mick was bare-chested, and his pale, porcelain skin was torn and broken - long angry slashes over his chest and arms. Deep cuts, thick with blood. Flicking her gaze back at his face, wide staring eyes, Beth swallowed the urge to vomit. She could still see the pain on his face, the angry scream. Long canines bared, wrists bleeding as he fought to be free, snarled and hissed ... and bled.
Staked to be tortured and then left pinned to the floor... to die.
Beth staggered to her feet, fumbling for her phone even as her knees trembled, threatened to topple her over. The number and contact took a while to find on her phone, her shaking hands making a mess of the small buttons. She hit dial.
It took forever for the call to go through, and be answered. ‘Please, please be alive.’
“Beth, to what do I owe the pleasure... although this really isn’t a good time. I..’
“Josef, its Mick. He’s been... he’s been attacked. I’m at his apartment and he’s staked - to, to the floor.”
Josef, ridiculous, childish, irresponsible, scary scary Josef snapped at her, all teeth and anger. ‘Pull it out, Beth!”
“I, I ... can’t. I tried... it’s its... they’re all too deep, er... stuck.” Beth knew she sounded terrified, right at the point of breakdown. Smart, capable, in control Beth loosing it on the phone with Josef Kostan, with the smell of blood, Mick’s blood in the air.
“How many? How many, Beth?”
“Er, five.”
Josef sounded every bit as old as he was, as nightmarish as he could be when he snarled through the phone, ”I’m on my way. Call Guillermo. We need lots of blood. Give him some of yours... “
And then he was gone. Beth stared at her phone because it was easier than looking at Mick. Easier... easy wasn’t an option. Biting her lip, hard, Beth took a deep breath and fell to her knees beside Mick again. Her small switchblade was never used - except maybe to peal an apple in an emergency, but she found it quickly. And without thinking about it, refusing to give it any thought, Beth sliced her inner arm, far from the wrist. The blood welled instantly, and she leant forward, holding her arm over Mick’s mouth.
The trickle of blood was tiny, minuscule compared to what Mick needed, but it was a test... Beth knew it. A test. How much undead life was in Mick. How far gone? How close to death?
Her blood painted his pale, broken lips red, dropped onto his tongue, spotted his teeth. Beth watched the slow trickle with intense concentration, desperation clawing with dire need in her heart. Please.
The vampire version of a pulse check.
Seconds ticked by, Beth thought about making another cut and then... movement. Small, hesitant, a snake tongue flicker of movement. But it was real, not imagined, because he did it again.
Relief overwhelmed Beth, the gasp of laughter ridiculous and inappropriate but oh,...”Mick?”
There was no response to his name, but his mouth moved, a stiff forced swallow. Beth pulled back and half ran, half stumbled towards the kitchen. It was hardly touched by the fight, still pristinely neat. And the blood store was undisturbed. Grabbing several bags of plasma, Beth ran back to Mick, fought with the clasp of one and stopped, uncertain.
Was there any point in giving him blood if he was still staked? Could vampires drown... in blood, if they couldn’t swallow? Hesitation and uncertainty stayed her and Beth slowly put the bag down.
Time ticked by unheeded, unwanted. Heart pounding, Beth reached out and touched the cold smooth skin around the stake in his chest. The skin was bruised, bloody. Bruised and... broken. Like a butterfly skittering over a field of red and white flowers, Beth’s fingers traced the clotting wound right below the stake. Deep and wide the cut followed the angle of Mick’s rib cage, cutting into the soft flesh between rib bones. All the way down his entire left flank there was a cut between each rib. Not always just one, sometimes two, or three close together, close enough to be one massive, ugly, wound.
“Oh... oh,” Beth stammered, fingers suddenly burned, suddenly aching fiercely.
“...th.” An exhalation. An imagined, impossible whisper but Beth heard it. Heart leaping, Beth leant forward, eyes darting all over Mick’s face.
“Mick?”
His tongue, red with blood, moved, flinched as if in pain and it was the faintest puff of breath. ”..eth.”
“Josef,.. Josef’s on his way, just hang on, ok? Hang on!”
As if summoned by that command, Josef was suddenly in the room, looming over her. Beth startled and then gulped. He must have flown... maybe literally to get here so quick, and his face was terrible. Mouth open, long canines glistening in the light, hollow bruised eyes pale with anger, Josef snarled, “Did you call Guillermo?”
Guilt burned through her, and Beth stood quickly, shaking her head, mouth stammering, “I... shit, shit shit... he’s alive, Josef, the blood, he... drank... I... shit!”
Somehow Josef moved her to one side, gently but firmly and Beth found herself blathering incoherently at Guillermo on the other end of her phone. Whether she told him enough, Beth had no idea because one second she was talking and the next she was listening to dial tone.
“He, he’s coming.”
“Get out.”
Josef was hovering over Mick, his narrow back blocking the horrific sight, and Beth sobbed, “Please... I....”
Josef whirled, snarling, that angry sound vampires made sending shivers into her soul. “Get. Out. Now!” He was right in front of her, face close enough that Beth winced, nearly stepped back. “You are a living blood bag, Beth. A ready, available source of blood and I don’t want
Mick regretting something he’d have no control over. Something I’d struggle to stop. So, get out!”
Beth felt cold, ice running through her veins, her warm, life giving veins. Vampires needed blood to heal. Desperate vampires couldn’t, struggled to think. Mick was going to be ...
She nodded and gasped, “Please... I... call me when... please.”
Josef stared at her for a moment before nodding, “Get the neighbours out of here if you can too.”
Beth’s head was spinning, feeling as if her own feet were someone else’s as she walked towards the door, constantly looking back - at Mick. As she reached the door, she reached out to steady herself, feeling faint and shaking. “Do you know... who would do this, Josef?”
He didn’t turn around, but Beth heard him clearly - as if he was whispering into her ear.
“Dead men, Beth. Every single one.”
Beth nodded, sharp. And left.
*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m
Josef ignored the bags of blood for now. In the silence of the apartment, the silence left when Beth’s heart beat could no longer be heard, Josef snarled quietly to himself. Dropping to one knee, uncaring of the sticky blood, he leant forward to see for himself, the flicker of life.
“Who the hell did you piss off, Mick?” Josef sighed, and rested his hand on Mick’s head, thumb rubbing his forehead. The whole room stank of vampire, old vampire. Beth’s blood on Mick’s mouth was drying, but the life it had stirred was still there.
One hand still on Mick’s head, Josef studied the rest of his friend, growling a little. Five stakes. Six were traditional. One for each limb. One for the heart. And the sixth reserved for wherever the interrogator felt it was deserved. Between the legs. Through the throat. Into the navel. It was the death blow, the rapid bleed out.
Pissed off enough to do this to Mick, but not enough to kill him outright.
Satisfied he hadn’t missed anything, Josef traced a circle on Mick’s forehead with one hand, and with the other grasped the stake in his ankle, and pulled. It came out reluctantly, making a sickly pop as it did, wet and slick with blood. One foot free and then the next, both stakes tossed aside with force.
Mick’s eyelids flickered. Josef continued to trace the odd circle, watching Mick’s face as he pulled out the stake in his left wrist. The stake in the right wrist was the most stubborn, the deepest into the floor and Josef had to tug at it several times before it slid out. “They made that one count, huh? Probably the last one.... made it hurt?”
Not expecting an answer, nonetheless Josef shook his head. “You’ll never reach a hundred if you keep making people this angry.”
Feeling the moment of déjà vu keenly, Josef bit his own wrist and let his blood trickle into Mick’s mouth as well. “For luck and ... just in case.” But unlike last time, Mick didn’t respond beyond the small tongue movement. Every little drop helped.
Guillermo eventually arrived, breathless and loaded with blood, and Logan was on his heels carrying bags of ice. “Shit.. what the hell?”
Josef snarled and they both hurried over. Guillermo began unpacking the cooler bags and Josef snapped, “Is it fresh?”
“Today. And the type he likes.”
Logan was hovering, uncertain, and Josef growled, “Start packing the ice around him, and then grab his feet. He’s going to come up fighting when I take the stake out.” Logan nodded sharply, face pale, even for a shut in vampire. Guillermo nodded when Josef looked at him.
“Be fast, if we distract him with food quick enough...”
Guillermo nodded again, face grim.
Josef took a deep breath, wrapped his hand around the smooth, cool wood of the stake and pulled.
Mick shuddered, drew in a breath and came out swinging.
*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m*m
Mick dreamt.
Dreamt, and remembered arching off the floor, his back a crescent of pain as the stake was pulled out of his heart and feeling rushed back into his limbs, and curled and wailed around the stakes breaking bone, tearing sinew.
A blink, a shuddering breath of agony, snarling his pain and fury at the black eyed vampire standing over him.
That’s right. Struggle. Filthy cur.
A heavy boot effortlessly pinning his arm. A wicked smile. The point of the stake pricking his right wrist, the skin just broken, a bead of blood running down his skin.
Go on. Try. Fight.
The stake slowly, inexorably sliding into his arm, and breaking through the other side. Black eyes laughing at his scream. The pain not stopping, the wound widening, fingers a fixed claw of agony.
Humans like to pin bugs to cardboard. Little bug.
The glint of a silver knife, its sour taste already in his mouth, the blade glistening with his blood.
Mick awoke with a start, heart pounding, dripping with sweat and fear.
There was a vampire nearby, and instinct took over... Mick snarled but struggled to stand.
“Hey, hey, it’s me. Relax. Just bringing you a happy meal. Promise. Make you feel better.”
Josef.
The blood smelled like... warmth and love and sunlight and hopes and dreams and Mick sucked it down, strangely full already but still starving.
Once the bag was empty, Mick leant back, head banging on the wall a little and took stock of where he was. In his bedroom. His refrigerated bed was open, unused. He was in a corner, huddled with his knees to his chest. The room was deliciously cold.
Josef was watching him, a soft sad serious smile on his face.
“Better?”
Mick shook his head, but muttered a ‘yeah.’
“Ok, good. But... “ Josef paused and took a deep breath like he was bracing himself. “I have a fairly good idea who did this to you.” Mick stared back at him, heart still pounding, shivering a bit. “More than likely it’s the family you didn’t know you had. Your in-laws.”
Mick nodded, sharp fast.
“And I’m guessing you... were looking for the cure?”
Josef tried not to sound disappointed or frustrated but he failed. Mick though shook his head and mumbled, “Coraline. Asked... around.”
“Ah,” Josef sighed, “Coraline. They took exception to your ... concern.”
Mick nodded, feeling his canines grow as he did so. “Came to ... teach me my place.”
Josef sighed again and moved from his crouch to sit next to Mick, ignoring the reflexive flinch away from physical contact, and pressed his shoulder against St John’s, both of their backs now pressed against the wall. “Well, in that case I have an uncomfortable question to ask.”
“Then don’t ask.” His throat hurt, badly. Like he had swallowed glass.
Unpersuaded, Josef continued, but did not look at Mick. “That, ah, royal family have a lot of rules and stupid laws. They’ve even allied themselves to some of the older vampire blood lines. Take their hierarchy and who gets turned policy very seriously.”
Mick snorted, well aware of this.
Josef said quietly, “But they are not above, and in fact rather enjoy, very brutal and ... animalistic, er tactics. Comes naturally to us, some of us, I suppose. Biting. Scent markers. Pack mentality.”
The wound on his wrist was still open and raw, barely healed. Mick felt a hunger stir within him, even though he was probably so full of blood he’d just throw it all up if he had more. Josef ran a hand over his face, mussing his hair, still not looking at Mick. “I know these... lessons, or punishments can... sometimes involve...”
“He didn’t rape me.”
Josef nodded and said, “But he threatened to.”
Mick brushed aside the memories and trace feelings of pain and growled, “Repeatedly.”
“It wouldn’t matter if he had.”
“I know.”
Josef stayed beside him, not looking at him, waiting and eventually Mick sighed, “I know you won’t agree, but I’m not going to look for him.
I... I really really want to rip his throat out but...”
“He’d probably rip us both apart, yeah, I know,” Josef snarled, and finally faced Mick, eyes pale, lips spilt and red. “But I still know people in the Old Country, still have a few favours to call in.”
Mick leant back, closed his eyes, and willed the rise of anger and revenge to back off, for now. “We’d start a war, a real blood feud.”
“Don’t care.”
“Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
Mick didn’t open his eyes, and Josef didn’t leave. “Did you tell Beth I was ok?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.”
Sleep was going to be impossible. Vampires rarely dreamed but memories and flashbacks were always around the corner, waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting mind.
“Will you stay?” Mick mumbled.
“I have nowhere else to be.”
And Mick fell asleep - for a little while.
FIN
AN: yes, as warned pointless, pointless whump (with very little comfort). Hope you like it, saphira. :)