Hum (PG)
Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2009 11:54 pm
Title: Hum
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: Plot? Who needs plot? Just a little Mick fluff. With my thanks to Grace, not just for being her wonderful self, but also for giving me a great line.
***************************************************************************************************************
For sweet Grace, with love.
--- Hum ---
His lips pressed to the small of her back, the briefest intimacy his greatest gift, the freedom to touch her. As he crept lower, his hum thrummed through them, a lick, a stroke, a taste, filled with the crackle of life.
Electricity, connection, power, eternity.
Electricity, the monster that lived in the wall, dormant but deadly, waiting to be set free. Mick smiled at the memory, a father's ruse to keep inquisitive fingers away from temptation. It hadn't worked, of course. He'd only believed the fairytale when a pocket knife, aided by an eight-year-old's determination, had prised open first the plug, then the wall socket and he found himself flat on his back across the other side of the room. The arcing spark, brilliant, glittering, powerful, mysterious. He felt the burn and the tingle, rippling through every nerve, invigorating and terrifying, almost blocking out his mother's terrified cry. She snatched him close, smoothing the crackle from spiky skin, every hair standing on end. He'd escaped punishment, his father happy in the knowledge that any future warnings would be heeded, at least for a while. It was more than a childhood brush with death; it was Mick's first sense of facing a power greater than him and the beginning of a lifelong fascination. He'd faced the monster and survived.
He continued his journey, tracking across Beth's body, feeling her energy, stronger here, between them, than he had ever thought possible.
The thread of life stretched out in his memory. More than power, light, heat, it was the force of life itself, flowing through everything, an invisible, secret connection between Mick and the rest of the world. He had always gone out of his way to feel it, to test it, to challenge. Thunderstorms heralded trips to the beach to watch lightning stab the frothing ocean, a primal battle for supremacy, while a young man stood, arms outstretched, soaked to the skin, careless of danger, lost in nature's spectacle.
Childhood monsters ceded to man-made demons as nature's majesty was subverted for destruction, power of a baser kind. Weapons of war, driven by the same force that had once wrapped him in the mesh of life. In a frozen trench, Mick had found isolation, a kind of disconnect from the world. Futility and drudgery combined to sap spirit and soul and he had felt the first temptation to slip into the welcoming clasp of carelessness.
Another vivid memory surged, the first time he'd held a solid-body Gibson. The intensity of the rich, warm vibration, every note felt rather than heard, flowing through him, almost powerful enough to displace the lingering drone of battle and the memory of Lilah's lost embrace. In music he'd found a way to reconnect, to remember his wonder and awe at life's possibility. He had turned to search for a future once more and in the Hollywood hills one dreary night, he found it. Coraline, her own force of nature, and he was swept away in her. The promise of a future bursting with life suddenly rendered inert, earth where all around was live.
There was always spark between them, a dark crackle, restless, impatient energy but it was the pulse of death, their bright, brittle light serving only to cast deeper shadow. They generated heat but no warmth, his dark existence pushing him further from the brink of life. Mick had battled the strangeness of feeling death in every cell while his senses jangled with power. At first, new awareness stripped open another layer, exposing the secret lives of strangers, distorted, viewed through a prism of separation. The vivid colours, bright lights, sharp sounds cursed him with awareness of the depth of this new schism. Countless nights of wandering, feeling the hum of life at one remove, sequestered behind walls of brick and skin. He could touch but not feel, his dead, jealous core railing against the uncaring normality of the rest of the world.
Acceptance was hard; a part of him would never make peace with the cruelty of fate, a constant, nagging burr that he must have deserved this, some terrible wrongness within him that had brought all this to pass. He'd revered God's beauty; God, fate, whatever, had turned his back on Mick St. John.
Until Beth. Lying here, together, safe, alone, the memories of their first meeting still clutched at him. There had been others, each rescue, each saved soul adding a tiny building block of self-respect, feeding his resolve to go on. But it was the trust of a child in him, only in him, always in him, that changed everything. His yearning for life was grounded in her. Without her he might have been content to continue hiding, keeping himself separate, finding pleasure where he could. But for her he rediscovered the battered remnants of humanity; for her he trapped himself between two worlds; for her he tried to be enough.
Fate had other plans the day Coraline walked into his home and offered him life and death. A moment of wondering, a brief flash of what their life could have been as he sensed the falling away of artifice. She had her reasons and they were hers alone, but she held out the prize he desired above all else. The intensity of his need had shocked him; he wouldn't pause; consequence was for tomorrow. He'd had no idea what to expect, so beguiled by the possibility of a way back to the light he leapt without looking.
The warmth had been instant, the glow of humanity permeating, thrilling. As his senses faded, life took hold.
With humanity had come a new imperative. Made painfully aware of his limitations, his inability to save Coraline was a constant ache, even now. But his return also meant a need to act. The time for hiding was over and it was to his eternal shame that he had watched Beth grieve with hope in his heart. Their too-brief time together, man to woman, had a terrifying wonder, born of understanding. He knew now the joys as well as the pains of immortality; when the time came, he knew what he was giving up.
His mourning was brief, regret fleeting. This time, he knew his decision was right, not just to save her, but to save himself. At last, he had a connection that lived separate from him. Beth was his link to life and saving her was all that mattered. In her he had found his place in the world; he loved her and nothing else mattered. It was his secret, then, or so he thought, kept close and safe. Her blood flowed in his veins, her life possessed him, precious, dangerous hope glowed within, force, light, heat.
Nagging disbelief flickered, a weakening flame.
Finally he could lay down his burden because she loved him back.
"Where did you go?" She turned, a soft caress to his cheek, feeling his smile curve against her palm.
"I'm right here."
"No," her gentle question, "you were lost."
Gentle smile became urgent kiss as he pulled her close, "I know. But I'm not lost any more."
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: Plot? Who needs plot? Just a little Mick fluff. With my thanks to Grace, not just for being her wonderful self, but also for giving me a great line.
***************************************************************************************************************
For sweet Grace, with love.
--- Hum ---
His lips pressed to the small of her back, the briefest intimacy his greatest gift, the freedom to touch her. As he crept lower, his hum thrummed through them, a lick, a stroke, a taste, filled with the crackle of life.
Electricity, connection, power, eternity.
Electricity, the monster that lived in the wall, dormant but deadly, waiting to be set free. Mick smiled at the memory, a father's ruse to keep inquisitive fingers away from temptation. It hadn't worked, of course. He'd only believed the fairytale when a pocket knife, aided by an eight-year-old's determination, had prised open first the plug, then the wall socket and he found himself flat on his back across the other side of the room. The arcing spark, brilliant, glittering, powerful, mysterious. He felt the burn and the tingle, rippling through every nerve, invigorating and terrifying, almost blocking out his mother's terrified cry. She snatched him close, smoothing the crackle from spiky skin, every hair standing on end. He'd escaped punishment, his father happy in the knowledge that any future warnings would be heeded, at least for a while. It was more than a childhood brush with death; it was Mick's first sense of facing a power greater than him and the beginning of a lifelong fascination. He'd faced the monster and survived.
He continued his journey, tracking across Beth's body, feeling her energy, stronger here, between them, than he had ever thought possible.
The thread of life stretched out in his memory. More than power, light, heat, it was the force of life itself, flowing through everything, an invisible, secret connection between Mick and the rest of the world. He had always gone out of his way to feel it, to test it, to challenge. Thunderstorms heralded trips to the beach to watch lightning stab the frothing ocean, a primal battle for supremacy, while a young man stood, arms outstretched, soaked to the skin, careless of danger, lost in nature's spectacle.
Childhood monsters ceded to man-made demons as nature's majesty was subverted for destruction, power of a baser kind. Weapons of war, driven by the same force that had once wrapped him in the mesh of life. In a frozen trench, Mick had found isolation, a kind of disconnect from the world. Futility and drudgery combined to sap spirit and soul and he had felt the first temptation to slip into the welcoming clasp of carelessness.
Another vivid memory surged, the first time he'd held a solid-body Gibson. The intensity of the rich, warm vibration, every note felt rather than heard, flowing through him, almost powerful enough to displace the lingering drone of battle and the memory of Lilah's lost embrace. In music he'd found a way to reconnect, to remember his wonder and awe at life's possibility. He had turned to search for a future once more and in the Hollywood hills one dreary night, he found it. Coraline, her own force of nature, and he was swept away in her. The promise of a future bursting with life suddenly rendered inert, earth where all around was live.
There was always spark between them, a dark crackle, restless, impatient energy but it was the pulse of death, their bright, brittle light serving only to cast deeper shadow. They generated heat but no warmth, his dark existence pushing him further from the brink of life. Mick had battled the strangeness of feeling death in every cell while his senses jangled with power. At first, new awareness stripped open another layer, exposing the secret lives of strangers, distorted, viewed through a prism of separation. The vivid colours, bright lights, sharp sounds cursed him with awareness of the depth of this new schism. Countless nights of wandering, feeling the hum of life at one remove, sequestered behind walls of brick and skin. He could touch but not feel, his dead, jealous core railing against the uncaring normality of the rest of the world.
Acceptance was hard; a part of him would never make peace with the cruelty of fate, a constant, nagging burr that he must have deserved this, some terrible wrongness within him that had brought all this to pass. He'd revered God's beauty; God, fate, whatever, had turned his back on Mick St. John.
Until Beth. Lying here, together, safe, alone, the memories of their first meeting still clutched at him. There had been others, each rescue, each saved soul adding a tiny building block of self-respect, feeding his resolve to go on. But it was the trust of a child in him, only in him, always in him, that changed everything. His yearning for life was grounded in her. Without her he might have been content to continue hiding, keeping himself separate, finding pleasure where he could. But for her he rediscovered the battered remnants of humanity; for her he trapped himself between two worlds; for her he tried to be enough.
Fate had other plans the day Coraline walked into his home and offered him life and death. A moment of wondering, a brief flash of what their life could have been as he sensed the falling away of artifice. She had her reasons and they were hers alone, but she held out the prize he desired above all else. The intensity of his need had shocked him; he wouldn't pause; consequence was for tomorrow. He'd had no idea what to expect, so beguiled by the possibility of a way back to the light he leapt without looking.
The warmth had been instant, the glow of humanity permeating, thrilling. As his senses faded, life took hold.
With humanity had come a new imperative. Made painfully aware of his limitations, his inability to save Coraline was a constant ache, even now. But his return also meant a need to act. The time for hiding was over and it was to his eternal shame that he had watched Beth grieve with hope in his heart. Their too-brief time together, man to woman, had a terrifying wonder, born of understanding. He knew now the joys as well as the pains of immortality; when the time came, he knew what he was giving up.
His mourning was brief, regret fleeting. This time, he knew his decision was right, not just to save her, but to save himself. At last, he had a connection that lived separate from him. Beth was his link to life and saving her was all that mattered. In her he had found his place in the world; he loved her and nothing else mattered. It was his secret, then, or so he thought, kept close and safe. Her blood flowed in his veins, her life possessed him, precious, dangerous hope glowed within, force, light, heat.
Nagging disbelief flickered, a weakening flame.
Finally he could lay down his burden because she loved him back.
"Where did you go?" She turned, a soft caress to his cheek, feeling his smile curve against her palm.
"I'm right here."
"No," her gentle question, "you were lost."
Gentle smile became urgent kiss as he pulled her close, "I know. But I'm not lost any more."