Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Moonlight, nor am I making any money from this, though I'm certainly having fun playing with the characters. No infringement intended.
Warnings: None in this one.
Summary: The first time it happens, it’s the one-year anniversary of the night he’d killed Coraline.
A/N: Written for Champagne Challenge #142, Something with "Ghost" in it.
As always, I thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who is the source of all inspiration.
~*~*~*~*~
Haunted
1986
The first time it happens, it’s the one-year anniversary of the night he’d killed Coraline.
He’s standing on the rooftop when there’s flash of red on the street below, a glimpse of dark hair.
Mick’s un-beating heart lurches in his chest.
But then…the specter disappears, and LA’s city streets are quiet once more, distant traffic the only noise.
He tells himself that he was imagining things.
~*~*~*~*~
The second time it happens, he’s working a case.
He’s in a crowded bar, tailing a husband whose wife is sure he’s cheating. So far, the only rendezvous this guy’s having is with beer. He’s on his third.
Mick keeps watching all the same, sipping from the brandy he’d ordered earlier, ignoring the waitress who hovers nearby, giving him pointed, flirtatious looks.
That’s when he sees her.
She’s sitting at the end of the bar, dressed in red, her hair falling around her shoulders in loose waves. She smiles when their eyes meet, that same sultry smile he remembers, filled with promises and danger.
He stands and tries to make his way towards her, but by the time he pushes through the crowd, she’s gone.
He describes her to the bartender, demanding to know which way she went.
The bartender asks how much he’s been drinking.
~*~*~*~*~
The third time it happens, he’s headed home, passing through an intersection.
She’s standing on the corner in that same red dress, watching as he drives by, her eyes dark and a little sad.
Mick slams on his brakes and jumps out of his car to confront her, to demand how she survived, what she wants.
But when he reaches the sidewalk, no one is there.
A car screeches to a stop behind his, just barely avoiding a collision. The driver starts yelling, cursing, and honking furiously.
Mick wonders if he’s losing his mind.
~*~*~*~*~
The fourth time it happens, Mick is in his office.
He’s filling out a report on his latest case and trying to organize the stack of other files, bills, and photographs littered across his desk.
Movement makes him look up, and his gaze lands on the door.
He can see her silhouette through the glass, the curl of her hair, the slope of her shoulders, the slender curve of her neck…
He leaps out of his chair and pulls the door open roughly.
But the hallway is empty, and even when a breeze blows through an open window, there’s no trace of her scent.
Mick walks back to his seat with slow steps, slumps over his desk, and puts his head in his hands.
He doesn’t get any more work done for the rest of the night.
~*~*~*~*~
The last time it happens, Mick is riddled with bullets and he can barely see straight.
Vampires can sustain a lot of damage and keep going, but taking a full clip to the chest leaves his shirt drenched with blood and his body screaming at him to replenish what he’s lost.
The trip back to his apartment will drain what little energy he has left. He doesn’t trust himself behind the wheel. If he crashes, people will stop to help him, and he'll either wind up feeding on someone or face exposure at a hospital.
So, he has no choice but to walk.
He makes it home and staggers to the kitchen, drinking all the blood he has in his refrigerator, taking great, desperate gulps, heedless of the rivulets running down his chin. Then, he stumbles to his freezer, strips off his bloody clothing, and climbs inside.
He’s nearly asleep when he senses her watching him; she’s a haze of red through the condensation on the glass. She’s frowning, worried as she reaches for the lid, opening it.
He wants to ask if she’s real or a dream, but exhaustion wins the battle, and his eyes drift shut against his will.
When he wakes up hours later, the lid is closed, but the sensation of her lips lingers on his cheek.
He tries to tell himself that the cold he feels is only from his freezer.
He never really believes it.
Fin
~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Thank you for reading, and of course, please let me know what you think!
-Laughter
And if it's his imagination, it's an indicator of how very unfinished that particular piece of business is. Either way, when she comes back in The Ringer, it's no wonder Mick looks like he's seen a ghost. (Again.) 
Even after Mick thinks Coraline is gone, she's still haunting him. Or is it wishful thinking on his part?
I love the direction you went with this. Mick is haunted, in some way, shape, or form, by Coraline. 
LM, I'm new here and enjoying the bounty of stories. I really enjoyed this and love the way you structured it to add to the mood.
