Beautiful banner by Phoenix
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: Rated PG because--well, it's a vampire story. And it talks about addiction.
This ficlet is set sometime after "The Mortal Cure." I deliberately left the timing somewhat vague, but it's after Mick reverts to being a vampire again. I'm thinking that this will eventually become a scene in a longer work, but I like it as it stands, so I might leave it this way...I wrote this partly because I wanted Mick to say those words (see the last line) to Beth instead of thinking them out loud...those kids, I do worry about them so...
Fire and Ice
It was pouring rain, the kind of day that nobody in Los Angeles believes in until they're in the middle of it. It was too wet and windy to go out, so Mick and Beth had been lazing around the living room all afternoon, ostensibly doing research. Beth had stopped pretending to work on her laptop and was cuddled up under the blanket at one end of the couch, holding her coffee cup in both hands to cradle the warmth. Mick was desultorily paging through a file folder, looking for evidence in a missing-persons case.
Beth threw a pencil at him.
“Hey. You've got to start keeping cream around here. I hate taking my coffee black.”
Mick laughed and stuck the pencil behind his ear. “Sorry. I just got tired of pouring it out when it got lumpy, so I stopped buying it for my occasional cream-loving guests.”
“You know, in this modern era you can buy tiny little pre-measured cups of half-and-half that have a shelf life of, oh, I don't know, a million years or so,” Beth said, wryly.
“Oh, sorry. You have to keep me up on foodstuffs innovations. It just doesn't occur to me to pay attention to that sort of thing.”
Beth stuck out her tongue. “I'm going to take you to Smart and Final and make you buy enough half-and-half to keep me in cream till I'm forty.”
“Who are Smart and Final? Or should that be what?” Mick shot one of his patented one-eyebrow looks at Beth, melting her heart a little.
“Oh, you poor thing. I keep forgetting that you're unaware of the important things in life, like stores where you can buy huge cans of hominy, or a thousand plastic glasses, or five-gallon buckets of ice cream.”
“Or million-year cream cups, I assume.”
“Exactly. It's a store where restaurants buy their supplies, but regular people can shop there, too. It's an experience no one should miss.”
“Hey, I'm always up for an adventure. But let's wait till it's not pouring. It's a pain in the ass to dry out the convertible, and that top is not entirely waterproof.”
“Mick, have you ever considered buying a car that was built in this millennium? Not that your car isn't the essence of cool, mind you.”
“No, I'm going to keep that car going as long as I possibly can. She's my baby.”
Beth looked at him thoughtfully. “You certainly are a dichotomy, Mick St. John. Such a mixture of opposites. I'd never have pegged you as sentimental, but there you are, in love with your car.”
“Go figure. I'm a bundle of contradictions,” Mick said. He tossed the folder onto the coffee table. “Ah, I'm never going to find it this way. I'm going to have to borrow Ryder.”
“So come over here and watch the fire with me,” Beth said.
“My feet are always cold,” he warned.
“It's OK, you're wearing socks. Come cuddle.”
“How can I resist such an invitation?” Smiling, Mick kicked off his shoes and got out of the chair. He walked around the table and tucked himself into the opposite corner of the couch, swinging his feet up onto the cushions as Beth lifted the blanket to welcome him into her warmth.
“There, that's better,” she said, smoothing the blanket back around their legs.
“Much,” he said, tangling his legs with hers.
They sat companionably for a little while, watching the blue flames shimmering over the pile of glass. Beth was fascinated with the way the gas found different routes through the glass pieces, causing the flames to dance over the sparkling heap.
Beth sighed and smiled at Mick. “Have I ever told you that you have the absolutely most wonderful fireplace in the world?”
“Thank you. It is beautiful, isn’t it? I designed it myself. It’s kind of symbolic—symbolic of my life, I guess, or maybe of me.” Mick’s eyebrows drew together in a frown as he watched the flames. “Fire and ice.”
“Ooh, that’s exactly what it looks like—fire and ice! I can see that—like the way you’re so Spartan and yet so sentimental about the Mercedes.” Beth stretched her legs toward him on the couch, tucking her feet under his thighs. “You have the ability to be two contradictory things at the same time.”
Mick curved his hands around her ankles and gently massaged her lower legs as he spoke. “Yeah, that’s part of it. Not just contradictory, though…more like incompatible. Have you seen pictures of Iceland, where there are glaciers growing over volcanoes? Incompatible things finding a way to exist together? Ever since I was turned, I’ve struggled to remain as human as I could in a decidedly non-human body.”
Beth put her coffee cup down on the coffee table. “Trying to control the uncontrollable through self-discipline.”
“Yeah. Beth, you can’t possibly know what it’s like to suffer from the blood lust. I don’t want you to have to find out. Imagine an addict living in a world where everything is made of drugs—everything. You can’t escape from the need. When you’re a vampire, you are starving, always. It never stops. Every person around a vampire is food, even beloved people—even you. It tears me up inside to have those feelings about you, but they exist every day. Every moment of every day.”
Beth looked stricken, and stroked his knees to try to comfort him. “Mick—I’m so sorry. You are so good at controlling those feelings that I have never, ever felt anything but perfectly safe with you, but I know it’s because you work so hard to maintain that control.”
Mick smiled sadly. “Maybe that control is a two-edged sword. I gave you a skewed impression of what it’s like to be a vampire, and the impression was reinforced when you took the B.C. You got all the highs with no idea of the price we pay.”
She bit her lip and tried to think of the right words. “I know you hate the idea of feeding on innocents, or the unwilling. But wouldn’t it help to eat—drink—freshies like Josef does? I mean, they don’t seem to mind, and he is kind to them.”
“Well, for starters, I couldn’t stand having ‘em around all the time,” Mick said, grinning for a second. “And besides, it’s just not…me, to keep a bunch of girls around like my own personal herd. Too much guilt and too much responsibility. It was easier for me to go off the fresh altogether.”
“So as soon as it was possible to get a regular supply of donated blood, you started buying the bagged stuff.”
“Yeah, especially after Guillermo scored the job at the morgue. Dead blood doesn’t taste good, and it doesn’t make you high like drinking from a living person does, but it keeps me alive, and somewhat guilt-free.” He made a little face.
“So bagged blood is your Methadone,” Beth said quietly. She pulled Mick’s feet into her lap and began to rub them.
“That’s pretty much it,” Mick said, and looked down at his lap. He suddenly looked very far away, all the way at the other end of the couch.
Beth watched the dancing blue flames for a moment. “So ice is your self-control, and fire is the vampire’s urges.”
“Yeah. And no matter how I pile up the ice, the fire keeps finding ways to get through. So I pile it up again, and the fire sneaks through the cracks again. It’s an endless game I play with my psyche.” Mick looked at the fire, then back at Beth’s face.
“That time in the desert…it changed something between us,” Beth said.
“Yeah. We were always connected somehow, but after I drank from you…”
“I know. I felt it too. I still do. Even when I said those terrible things to you after Josh died, I felt it. And I felt horrible because I could tell how much my words were hurting you.” A tear rolled down Beth’s cheek.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Mick said, holding out his open arms to her. Beth crawled along the couch next to him and lay back against his chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder. She sniffed, and Mick spread the blanket over them both again, then tightened his arms around her shoulders.
“Please don’t cry, Beth,” he said, kissing her hair and hugging her. She gave a little sob.
“I’m sorry. I just feel so bad that I blamed you, after you’d done so much to try to save him. That I asked you those questions.”
“Beth, do you know the real answer to why I go on living?” Mick asked gently.
She twisted around to look up into his face, and he kissed the corner of her mouth.
“You make me want to.”
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