Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Moonlight is not mine. I do not intend to infringe on any copyright, and I make no profit.
Warning/Spoiler: This is the second in my Inspiration series of stories. It’s based on a thought I had while watching “Out of the Past.”
Summary: this one was a duh! moment for me. Another ML plot hole big enough to drive a Mack truck through. It seems so obvious, I can’t believe the subject was never brought up before – at least I’ve never seen any story dealing with this, but if there are any let me know ‘cause I’d like to read it!
-----------------------------------------------------------------
One of a Kind
By Cat Moon
He sat in the rocker by the window in the early evening, not sparing a glance at the view. The ticking of the clock that he never used was loud in the silent apartment. If his former colleagues could see him now he’d never hear the end of the razzing, but even if he looked the stereotypical senior citizen, the rhythmic rocking was soothing, helped him think.
And Bobby Desmond had a lot to think over.
People tended to underestimate him, but his mind was still sharp despite his age. He was troubled. Something wasn’t right, and his cop instincts had woken up again shortly after the reporter had left.
Mick St. John. Bobby hadn’t heard from his old friend for a long time, but was unsurprised to find the man on his doorstep after Lee Jay was released from prison. It was one of those cases that can eat away at a man over the years, and Mick felt responsible for the death of his client, Eileen Hannigan. He was a good man. They met in ’71 when their paths crossed on the same case, and although Bobby initially had the distrust that every cop has for a P.I., it was quickly replaced by respect. Mick had a real soft spot for the victimized women and children, he often took their cases pro bono, and Bobby himself had referred more than a few to him when the police’ hands were tied by legalities.
Then Miss Turner came by, insisting she was friends with Mick’s son. Shortly after they met, Bobby had inquired about family. Mick had gotten a sad look in his eyes and told him that he wasn’t able to father children. Bobby always suspected that was why he’d never married.
Why was the reporter so sure she knew a young Mick St. John? Mick told Bobby he was going to give the report on Lee Jay’s first wife to his reporter friend, and she confirmed it when she was there. It made no sense. How could she mistake a sixty five year old man for his son? Plastic surgery? No, it was impossible for anyone his age to have so much that he was mistaken for thirty. Imposter? Why? That didn’t make much sense either, but he’d keep it aside for further speculation.
In his years on the force, Bobby had come to learn that almost all the time, the most likely scenario turned out to be the correct one. In this case though, the most likely was also the most farfetched -- that it was the same Mick St. John, and he was still thirty.
“Bobby, you’re going senile,” he muttered to himself.
Now there was a likely possibility, except…
The facts stared tumbling into his mind one after another like dominos. Even though Bobby had lost his sight later in life, due to a degenerative disease, his other senses had compensated and were quite well honed. When he’d opened the door to Mick the other day, the first thing that struck him was how Mick’s voice hadn’t changed a bit. Bobby’s own body practically poured out Ben Gay instead of sweat after years of using it for painful arthritis; while not conclusive of anything, the only thing he smelled on Mick was aftershave. Then there were the muscles he felt when Mick hugged him. He’d dismissed what his senses were telling him as the past playing tricks on his memory, but now…
He needed to know. Not so much as a cop who thrives on solving mysteries, but as a seventy five year old man who needs to reassure himself that he’s not going crazy. Getting up and making his way over to the phone, Bobby called Mick.
XXX
Everyone learns from their mistakes. Mick had been young and stupid in another way back then, letting himself get close to a cop. He should have known it was going to be a problem. He’d breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Bobby had gone blind, which was quickly replaced with guilt for the selfish thought. He never made that mistake again, and he’d purposely lost touch with his old friend – until now. Now he found himself at Bobby Desmond’s place for the second time in as many weeks. This time Bobby had called and asked him to come over.
“What did you want to see me about?” Mick asked. He was seated on the couch, with Bobby across from him on the rocker.
“I heard what happened on the news,” Bobby began.
“If you’re gonna berate me for getting caught up in one of Lee Jay’s traps…”
“I had a feeling that story of you turning yourself in was fake.”
“I needed something to buy time; he was going to kill his latest women, the author of his book.”
“That Lee Jay was a real piece of work. But he’s dead now, and you saved her. You can stop carrying around the guilt now,” Bobby told him.
“Am I that obvious?”
“I’ve known you for over thirty five years,” Bobby responded. “Do you remember what you told me after we found Eileen’s body?”
Mick sighed. “I said it was my fault, that if I hadn’t beaten Lee Jay up and threatened him, she wouldn’t be dead.”
Bobby nodded. “And what did I tell you?”
Mick chuckled. “Uh, that I wasn’t responsible for every nut job in L.A.”
“You’ve got a good memory for an old geezer,” Bobby told him. “That’s exactly what I said.”
There was something odd about Desmond’s tone of voice, but before Mick had a chance to wonder about it – and before he could stop him, Bobby had reached out and felt Mick’s face with his hands. It only lasted a few seconds, and then he was rearing back in alarm.
Mick winced at the look on the man’s face. “Bobby—“ Mick began although he had no idea what to say.
“You have no wrinkles! How is this possible?”
“I don’t…” know what you’re talking about.
Could he live with himself if he denied it – that is, if he was successful – and caused Bobby to question his sanity? Was this to be the second person to find out his secret, in as many weeks, after over fifty years? He couldn’t tell Bobby the truth. So what could he say?
“Your reporter friend was right when she told me the Mick she knows is thirty.”
Beth. Well, that explained how his cover was blown. “I… yes, she was right. I’m…immortal.” God that sounded even more ridiculous than ‘I’m a vampire.’ Panic simmered just below the surface. He really wasn’t in any shape to go through this again so soon.
“You mean like those characters on that show that used to be on TV?”
“Something like that.”
“This isn’t a joke, is it? Playing the old man for a fool?” Bobby asked suspiciously.
Mick felt a stab of pain at the words. He leaned forward and covered Bobby’s hands with his own. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. “I wouldn’t do that to you. This is me. Feel my hands, they aren’t wrinkled. Ask me anything, something only I would know.” As soon as he said it, he realized Bobby had done just that, it was his motive for bringing up their past conversation.
“Does anyone else know about this?”
“No, no one knows,” Mick fibbed. “That’s the way it has to stay,” he stressed, thinking fast. “If they found out they’d want to, you know, study me, dissect me. Probably take away my freedom, lock me up in a lab somewhere.”
Bobby was quiet for long moments while Mick waited anxiously. “That’s why you never told me this before?”
Mick got the inference, and sought to dispel it. “How could I have told you? You would have thought I was going crazy, or joking. You wouldn’t have believed me, and how could I have proven it to you back then? Only time could do that.”
“My momma used to say, there’s more things in heaven and earth, but this…”
“This has to stay between you and me,” Mick told him. “No one else can know.”
“How the hell are you still a P.I. in L.A. and no one else knows?!”
“Uh… it’s a long story. I’m a loner, and I... I can’t explain now. I know it’s confusing, but you’ll have to be satisfied with that for now.”
Bobby ran a hand over his face. “I guess I need time to get used to the idea.”
“Of course you do.”
“Is that why you didn’t keep in touch?”
More pain. This, Mick reminded himself, was why he didn’t get involved with humans. He needed to start reinforcing his rule. “I’m sorry, Bobby.”
It was all he had to offer.
XXX
Mick stood in front of the gravestone a long time, lost in memories of the past. He’d never seen Bobby again after that night of revelation. They’d talked on the phone a few times, but Mick was too much a coward to face him in person. He’d had a heart attack and died only a few weeks later.
Beth thought being a vampire was fun. She didn’t have a clue. It hurt to keep your secret, it hurt to deceive your friends, it hurt when you had to give them up to protect yourself, and it hurt when they died. Right now, all he could feel was the pain of it. The plus side would never be worth it. Never.
“Goodbye, Bobby.”
The end
6/3/09
Notes: I'm guessing they just figured Bobby was so old he didn't know what was going on around him, but I chose to give him more credit. Writing this story made me remember when Mick told Beth he didn't have any contacts in the P.D., and why. You kinda know there had to be a story there. When Mick says to Beth in Click that he's been careful? Hah! According to this episode, he's been a P.I. in LA named Mick St. John for at least 35 years. Dumb luck, I'd say.
The title of this story comes from Bobby's words to Beth about Mick being "one of a kind." Oh, and one other little bitty thing: from what I could see in the ep, Bobby didn't have a rocking chair in his apartment, but I gave him one anyway because I wanted to.
to all for reading and commenting, I'm glad you enjoyed the 2nd in my series.
