The Touch of Another - Mini Challenge 3 rated PG REPOST
Posted: Tue Jan 20, 2009 1:16 am
Emerald issued a challenge to write a romantic scene between two characters you would not normally have considered having a romantic moment. This is my offering, involving Mick and Beth's mother in 1985. While plausible, for me this is something of an "O my god, no!" scenario. It's written from Mick's POV
I don't own Moonlight or any of the characters (Joel Silver and CBS do).
Rating is PG
Hope you enjoy!
The Touch of Another
LA - 1985
I didn’t expect this to happen. God knows I wasn’t looking for it. But there she was, hesitantly, awkwardly embracing me as if somehow I could provide comfort in her grief, hope in her desperation. She pulls away, tears trickling down her haggard face. She manages a single word:
Please.
I can’t deny a crying woman, unless of course it’s my wife. Not that I deny her when she cries. I don’t have to. She doesn’t cry. But I do.
The woman’s embrace has sucker punched me. She’d called earlier about her little four year old daughter, Beth. It seems the little girl had gone missing from their home in the middle of the night. The cops weren’t telling her anything. That’s never a good sign. That means they didn’t know anything. Yeah, I’ve seen this before and it rarely ends well. If this kid isn’t found soon, she won’t be, at least alive, anyway. If she is found alive, you just hope she won’t have nightmares for the rest of her life.
The woman hands me a picture. The kid is cute, bright blue eyes, blonde hair, sweet smile, no worries on her face. That will change when she grows up, if she grows up. I can see the resemblance to her mother.
I bring the woman into my office. Vicky Turner is her name, divorced, single mom. When she isn’t worried sick, she’s probably pretty good looking, for a human anyway. We go through the usual questions: Could your ex be involved? No. Do you have any enemies? No. Could your daughter have wandered off or run away? No. Notice any strange people hanging around your house? No.
At the end of the interview, Vicky is even more stressed out than she was when she came in the door. She’s probably answered these questions a dozen times already. Before this nightmare is over, she’ll answer them a dozen times more. What bothers her most of all is that there has been no contact, no demand for ransom. She doesn’t understand. When kids are abducted, there’s typically no ransom demand because there’s never any intent to let the kid go. When I tell her this, she collapses into my arms. Again, I find myself holding her close, trying to comfort her and finding some small pleasure when I do.
Being a vamp has its advantages in cases like these. I can tell when people are lying. Their heart rate gives them away. Vicky wasn’t lying, all her heart was doing was breaking. I go back to questioning her about her ex. A lot of times, kids are taken by a relative or someone the family knows. In cases where divorce is involved, the ex is high on the list of suspects. Why is she sure he’s not involved?
She’s got a good answer. Her ex lives on the east coast, happily married to the younger woman he divorced her for. Neither her ex or his new wife want anything to do with kids. That was the reason her own marriage went south in the first place. When her ex was presented with a baby girl four years ago, he felt the walls closing in. He wanted to be young forever. Immortal. Having kids made you mortal, so he left.
Vicky’s starting to cry again, but this time it’s not just about losing her kid. It’s about losing her hopes and dreams of a happy marriage and a loving family. I can relate, but not for reasons Vicky would ever understand. In my case, my wife had a different idea of what a marriage should be than I did. Kids weren’t a part of her plan either. Just her and me. For all eternity.
I get up and find the box of tissues I keep handy. In my business, somebody usually ends up crying about something. Maybe it’s a cheating spouse, maybe a crooked business partner, or maybe just because your heart is breaking. As I hand her the tissues, she holds my hand for a moment. She looks up at me and manages a weak smile, grateful for that innocent contact. I hold her hand for a moment longer, a part of me unwilling to let go. Unwilling to give up the gentle touch of another.
I tell her I’ll take the case. I didn’t need to be a vampire to hear her heart rate increase. Her entire body language changed. Now she had hope. She asks me what I want to do and when. I tell her that I’d like to see the house and her daughter’s room, see if the cops missed anything. Trust me, they did. As for when, now is as good a time as any.
Another embrace, but this time it isn’t one of desperation, it’s one of gratitude. Too bad it was so brief. Vicky is a tender person, wanting to love and be loved. Just like me. And it had been so long since I had held a warm, loving woman in my arms. I gotta stop thinking like that. She’s a client, nothing more. She’s human as well. She could never be anything more. A brief exchange of glances tells me she’s thinking along the same lines. Within minutes, I’m locking up the office and following Vicky down the hall.
I read people pretty well. Vicky’s not at her best right now, but she’s bright, she’s pretty and together enough to do what it takes to get her daughter back. The cops won’t be happy that she’s hired me. They don’t like it when I show them up. Too bad. It shouldn’t matter who finds the kid, just that she’s found.
What I can’t understand is how any guy could dump a woman like Vicky because he’s been confronted by his own mortality. Being immortal isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. If I had the chance, I’d change places with her sorry ex in a heartbeat. I’d give anything to come home at night to a loving wife like Vicky and a couple of kids. Maybe even a dog. But that’s never going to happen. I’ve had over thirty years to get used to that idea.
A little while later, Vicky and I are standing outside the house. The little girl’s room is on the second floor, making an abduction difficult, but not impossible. There were no indications of a forced entry or any ladders being used. The cops couldn’t understand how the little girl was taken. But I was beginning to.
Once we get to the little girl’s room, it’s clear who had taken her little girl and why there’d never be a ransom request. It had been a few days, but maybe there was still time. Maybe there was something more going on here than the obvious. With my wife involved, anything was possible. One thing was clear. Vicky hadn’t found me by chance. Somehow, Coraline had pointed her right at me. She wanted me to be involved, but why?
I spend a little more time searching the little girl’s bedroom, more to think than anything else. Besides, it’s what Vicky was expecting me to do. Finally, I ask her a question. Was there any place nearby that was abandoned or vacant? She told me there was, but that the police had been through it a dozen times. There had been no sign of her little girl. I tell her I’ll look again, just to be certain.
Before I leave, Vicky takes my hand, and looking me in the eye, she thanks me. That moment is one I’ll never forget. The touch, the look, the loneliness. She knows I’ll find her little girl. I know I’ll find her, too. Coraline will make certain of that.
When I get to the abandoned house, I sense it. They’re here, one expectant, one terrified. I light a kerosene lamp I find on the porch, providing some light for the darkness I’m about to enter. But for my kind, it’s also a weapon. Knowing my wife, I may need it.
A half hour later, I’m holding the little girl in my arms, terrified, but otherwise unhurt. She’d tried to hide her bright blue eyes from the carnage in the house, but I know what she saw. When we get to my car, I clean away the blood as best I can. I tell her everything will be OK once I get her home to her mom. I tell her the lady that took her was crazy, but is gone now. I should know. I tell her to forget what she saw and think of it as a bad dream. If she doesn’t tell anybody what she saw, the dream will fade away. She doesn’t say a word, but nods her head. I should start saving for her therapy bills now.
It’s late when I get back to her mother’s place, but the house is lit up. I know that Vicky will be waiting. As we get out of the car, the front door opens and Vicky stands in the doorway, haloed by the light within. With her daughter in my arms, I reach the doorway. The joy on Vicky’s face has replaced the earlier fear and worry, transforming her into a beautiful woman. Tears start up again, but now they’re ones of happiness.
I hand Vicky her little girl and follow mother and child inside. I’m sure that the child is ok physically, but what will she tell her mother? What will she tell the cops? I tell Vicky that I found her daughter alone in the abandoned house. Maybe the kidnapper saw me coming and fled. It sounds plausible. Vicky looks at her daughter for some confirmation. The little girl nods her head and says ‘Crazy lady took me. Crazy lady gone.’
I tell Vicky to call the cops in the morning. They’ll want a statement from me as well and I’ll come by when they’re here. I get up to leave, knowing that there will be no separation of mother and daughter this night, maybe not for several nights to come. Vicky lays her daughter down on the sofa, covering her with a small blanket. She draws me away, hoping I’ll tell her more out of her daughter’s earshot. I don’t. I can’t. She searches my face, knowing I’m holding back. Like her daughter, she nods her head, silently accepting my decision.
I start to leave, but she stops me at the doorway. Another embrace, followed by words of thanks. She holds me a moment more, then kisses my cheek shyly. Pulling away, we each see what could have been, but can never be.
I don't own Moonlight or any of the characters (Joel Silver and CBS do).
Rating is PG
Hope you enjoy!
The Touch of Another
LA - 1985
I didn’t expect this to happen. God knows I wasn’t looking for it. But there she was, hesitantly, awkwardly embracing me as if somehow I could provide comfort in her grief, hope in her desperation. She pulls away, tears trickling down her haggard face. She manages a single word:
Please.
I can’t deny a crying woman, unless of course it’s my wife. Not that I deny her when she cries. I don’t have to. She doesn’t cry. But I do.
The woman’s embrace has sucker punched me. She’d called earlier about her little four year old daughter, Beth. It seems the little girl had gone missing from their home in the middle of the night. The cops weren’t telling her anything. That’s never a good sign. That means they didn’t know anything. Yeah, I’ve seen this before and it rarely ends well. If this kid isn’t found soon, she won’t be, at least alive, anyway. If she is found alive, you just hope she won’t have nightmares for the rest of her life.
The woman hands me a picture. The kid is cute, bright blue eyes, blonde hair, sweet smile, no worries on her face. That will change when she grows up, if she grows up. I can see the resemblance to her mother.
I bring the woman into my office. Vicky Turner is her name, divorced, single mom. When she isn’t worried sick, she’s probably pretty good looking, for a human anyway. We go through the usual questions: Could your ex be involved? No. Do you have any enemies? No. Could your daughter have wandered off or run away? No. Notice any strange people hanging around your house? No.
At the end of the interview, Vicky is even more stressed out than she was when she came in the door. She’s probably answered these questions a dozen times already. Before this nightmare is over, she’ll answer them a dozen times more. What bothers her most of all is that there has been no contact, no demand for ransom. She doesn’t understand. When kids are abducted, there’s typically no ransom demand because there’s never any intent to let the kid go. When I tell her this, she collapses into my arms. Again, I find myself holding her close, trying to comfort her and finding some small pleasure when I do.
Being a vamp has its advantages in cases like these. I can tell when people are lying. Their heart rate gives them away. Vicky wasn’t lying, all her heart was doing was breaking. I go back to questioning her about her ex. A lot of times, kids are taken by a relative or someone the family knows. In cases where divorce is involved, the ex is high on the list of suspects. Why is she sure he’s not involved?
She’s got a good answer. Her ex lives on the east coast, happily married to the younger woman he divorced her for. Neither her ex or his new wife want anything to do with kids. That was the reason her own marriage went south in the first place. When her ex was presented with a baby girl four years ago, he felt the walls closing in. He wanted to be young forever. Immortal. Having kids made you mortal, so he left.
Vicky’s starting to cry again, but this time it’s not just about losing her kid. It’s about losing her hopes and dreams of a happy marriage and a loving family. I can relate, but not for reasons Vicky would ever understand. In my case, my wife had a different idea of what a marriage should be than I did. Kids weren’t a part of her plan either. Just her and me. For all eternity.
I get up and find the box of tissues I keep handy. In my business, somebody usually ends up crying about something. Maybe it’s a cheating spouse, maybe a crooked business partner, or maybe just because your heart is breaking. As I hand her the tissues, she holds my hand for a moment. She looks up at me and manages a weak smile, grateful for that innocent contact. I hold her hand for a moment longer, a part of me unwilling to let go. Unwilling to give up the gentle touch of another.
I tell her I’ll take the case. I didn’t need to be a vampire to hear her heart rate increase. Her entire body language changed. Now she had hope. She asks me what I want to do and when. I tell her that I’d like to see the house and her daughter’s room, see if the cops missed anything. Trust me, they did. As for when, now is as good a time as any.
Another embrace, but this time it isn’t one of desperation, it’s one of gratitude. Too bad it was so brief. Vicky is a tender person, wanting to love and be loved. Just like me. And it had been so long since I had held a warm, loving woman in my arms. I gotta stop thinking like that. She’s a client, nothing more. She’s human as well. She could never be anything more. A brief exchange of glances tells me she’s thinking along the same lines. Within minutes, I’m locking up the office and following Vicky down the hall.
I read people pretty well. Vicky’s not at her best right now, but she’s bright, she’s pretty and together enough to do what it takes to get her daughter back. The cops won’t be happy that she’s hired me. They don’t like it when I show them up. Too bad. It shouldn’t matter who finds the kid, just that she’s found.
What I can’t understand is how any guy could dump a woman like Vicky because he’s been confronted by his own mortality. Being immortal isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. If I had the chance, I’d change places with her sorry ex in a heartbeat. I’d give anything to come home at night to a loving wife like Vicky and a couple of kids. Maybe even a dog. But that’s never going to happen. I’ve had over thirty years to get used to that idea.
A little while later, Vicky and I are standing outside the house. The little girl’s room is on the second floor, making an abduction difficult, but not impossible. There were no indications of a forced entry or any ladders being used. The cops couldn’t understand how the little girl was taken. But I was beginning to.
Once we get to the little girl’s room, it’s clear who had taken her little girl and why there’d never be a ransom request. It had been a few days, but maybe there was still time. Maybe there was something more going on here than the obvious. With my wife involved, anything was possible. One thing was clear. Vicky hadn’t found me by chance. Somehow, Coraline had pointed her right at me. She wanted me to be involved, but why?
I spend a little more time searching the little girl’s bedroom, more to think than anything else. Besides, it’s what Vicky was expecting me to do. Finally, I ask her a question. Was there any place nearby that was abandoned or vacant? She told me there was, but that the police had been through it a dozen times. There had been no sign of her little girl. I tell her I’ll look again, just to be certain.
Before I leave, Vicky takes my hand, and looking me in the eye, she thanks me. That moment is one I’ll never forget. The touch, the look, the loneliness. She knows I’ll find her little girl. I know I’ll find her, too. Coraline will make certain of that.
When I get to the abandoned house, I sense it. They’re here, one expectant, one terrified. I light a kerosene lamp I find on the porch, providing some light for the darkness I’m about to enter. But for my kind, it’s also a weapon. Knowing my wife, I may need it.
A half hour later, I’m holding the little girl in my arms, terrified, but otherwise unhurt. She’d tried to hide her bright blue eyes from the carnage in the house, but I know what she saw. When we get to my car, I clean away the blood as best I can. I tell her everything will be OK once I get her home to her mom. I tell her the lady that took her was crazy, but is gone now. I should know. I tell her to forget what she saw and think of it as a bad dream. If she doesn’t tell anybody what she saw, the dream will fade away. She doesn’t say a word, but nods her head. I should start saving for her therapy bills now.
It’s late when I get back to her mother’s place, but the house is lit up. I know that Vicky will be waiting. As we get out of the car, the front door opens and Vicky stands in the doorway, haloed by the light within. With her daughter in my arms, I reach the doorway. The joy on Vicky’s face has replaced the earlier fear and worry, transforming her into a beautiful woman. Tears start up again, but now they’re ones of happiness.
I hand Vicky her little girl and follow mother and child inside. I’m sure that the child is ok physically, but what will she tell her mother? What will she tell the cops? I tell Vicky that I found her daughter alone in the abandoned house. Maybe the kidnapper saw me coming and fled. It sounds plausible. Vicky looks at her daughter for some confirmation. The little girl nods her head and says ‘Crazy lady took me. Crazy lady gone.’
I tell Vicky to call the cops in the morning. They’ll want a statement from me as well and I’ll come by when they’re here. I get up to leave, knowing that there will be no separation of mother and daughter this night, maybe not for several nights to come. Vicky lays her daughter down on the sofa, covering her with a small blanket. She draws me away, hoping I’ll tell her more out of her daughter’s earshot. I don’t. I can’t. She searches my face, knowing I’m holding back. Like her daughter, she nods her head, silently accepting my decision.
I start to leave, but she stops me at the doorway. Another embrace, followed by words of thanks. She holds me a moment more, then kisses my cheek shyly. Pulling away, we each see what could have been, but can never be.
