Aberration - PG
Posted: Sun Jul 04, 2010 10:23 pm
A/N: I have a fic almost ready for the challenge, but this hit me between the eyes in the shower this morning and demanded that I write it. It sort of fits the challenge, but not really, so I'm just going to post it as a regular fic. It's raw and unbeta'ed, so I hope I caught all obvious errors.
In photography-speak, an abberation is something that prevents light from being brought into sharp focus, disenabling the formation of a clear image, or a lens flaw that prevents the lens from reproducing a focused and sharp image.
I thought the term fit this fic.
I hope you enjoy.
Usual disclaimers apply. I own nothing but my own imagination.
ABERRATION
“Vincent...Vincent!” The grizzled L.A. Times photo editor snapped his fingers in front of Morgan’s face. “Hey, MORGAN - wake up!”
Morgan’s attention snapped to Manny as she bit back a ripe curse.
Your name is Morgan Vincent - it has been for three years. You’re Morgan now.
“Ye...yeah, boss?”
“Great job getting those shots of the Griffith Park rapist outside the courthouse yesterday. Cops sure weren’t happy the press got around the lid they put on this case.” Manny rested a hip on Morgan’s desk and leaned closer, leering down her blouse. Morgan rolled her eyes and buttoned the simple cotton shirt to her neck, and tried not to gag at the stale cigarettes on her boss’s breath. Disappointed, Manny sat back. “You got a source in the department, Vincent?”
“Not exactly.” What she had was much more valuable and a whole lot more dangerous. Three years of careful research, months of building the life of Morgan Vincent had almost come crashing down around her ears when she’d received a fateful phone call. Since that day, the arrangement the caller had proposed had reaped benefits she couldn’t have managed on her own in her current state, but it had cost her a piece of her soul.
I know what you’re up to, Mlle. Duvall - or should I call you Ms. Vincent now? I’ll be more than happy to assist you in any way I can, but I want something in return. And don’t even think of crossing me, Coraline. You won’t like the consequences.
She’d sacrificed almost everything to achieve her goals - what did it matter if her soul was lost? She’d given up the life of luxury she’d known, and she’d betrayed her family in the most heinous way imaginable. She’d made her escape from Europe two years ago with her father’s most prized possession hidden in her Louis Vuitton, and had lost herself in the labyrinth that was America. When Father realized what she had taken, he would send someone to bring her back to France and she would be punished.
Morgan shook off the shiver that skittered down her spine on spidery legs with an impatient gesture. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting back the most important thing she’d ever had.
Mick.
“I still don’t know how you managed to get Mac to give you a permanent desk here,” Manny muttered through Morgan’s daydreams of her long-lost husband. “He usually makes stringers come to him.”
“I can be persuasive when I put my mind to it.” Morgan hid a grimace. She’d had to use her body to convince more intelligent men than Mac Daniels to give her what she wanted. All it had taken this time was a sweet smile and a quick blowjob in his office after hours to secure her a place in the Times’ news floor. Morgan resisted the urge to spit on the tiled floor and squinted up at Manny. “What do you want, boss?”
Manny stood and hitched up his trousers. “Mac got a call from that sweet little reporter over at Buzzwire, Beth Turner. You know her, right?”
Morgan bit her lip to keep from snarling. “Yes, I know her - I met her a few months ago at a crime scene. She buys pictures from me sometimes.”
And she’s fucking my husband. I know she is.
If Morgan still had her sharp sense of smell, she’d be able to know whether or not the blonde tabloid reporter was spreading her legs for Mick, but being human had its definite disadvantages. Instead, she’d been following Mick for months, had followed him to a crime scene at a fountain one night. She’d watched him, hiding in the shadows, watched him pace and struggle with indecision before stepping into the halo of a streetlight and make himself known to the barefoot reporter he’d been watching all night.
Since then, she had followed the two of them, had burned with jealousy as she watched Mick with the pretty woman named Beth, had watched him touch her, and had been there when he’d kissed her for the first time. When he’d been dying in the desert, he had fed from her, breaking his vow to never bite another human.
Her benefactor had provided her with that particular tidbit, smirking as she’d fought back angry tears. Mick was happy now, he’d informed her, happier with a human than he’d ever been with his vampire wife, and Morgan hated to admit her benefactor was right.
Mick had smiled more in the few months since he’d revealed himself to Beth than he ever did through all the decades he’d been married to her. He’d always blamed her for his vampirism, had always hated her for stealing the pathetic existence he’d called his life. Mick had been nothing when she’d found him, a poor musician playing backyard parties and dingy bars, barely making enough money to keep him in cigarettes and the cheap room he rented with his bandmates. She had saved him from that travesty of a life and had given him the moon - and he had hated her for it.
“Vincent, damn it, did you hear me?” Manny waved an impatient hand. “The Turner broad wants to know if you’re willing to email her some shots for her broadcast tonight. Mac’s cleared it, as long as you don’t send her anything he intends to publish.”
“Sure...sure, of course.” Morgan fiddled with the flash drive that hung around her neck, the one that contained her livelihood. “I already sent the best ones to you and copied Mac. I’ll go through what I have left and send a couple to Beth.”
“Good girl.” Manny grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth. “I’ll let Mo Williams know to expect them before end of business.”
Morgan slid the chain off her neck and plugged the flash drive into her computer. As she sorted through various photos, her desk phone rang. She balanced the receiver on her shoulder and continued to surf through the images.
“Morgan Vincent. Can I help you?”
“Ms. Vincent.” The smooth voice on the other end was mocking.
Morgan sat up straighter and gripped the receiver in a suddenly sweaty hand. “What do you want, Josef? You agreed never to call me here.”
“Not even a ‘hello”? I’m wounded.” Josef’s voice became dangerous. “Don’t get cheeky with me, my dear. I wouldn’t want kick in your spokes on your mission to regain your lost love.”
“I asked you a question, Josef. What do you want?” Morgan swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her dry throat.
“I think it’s time we upped the ante with Mick, darling. He’s becoming entirely too comfortable with the intrepid Ms. Turner and it’s time we jerked him back just a bit.” Josef paused, and Morgan could almost see him resting his Prada-shod feet on his desk as he leaned back. “ I think it’s time you revealed yourself to your errant husband. Find an opportunity soon.”
“Alright.” Morgan hesitated, then asked a question she’d been harboring for six months. “Can I ask you something, Josef?”
“Of course.”
“Why are you helping me? I know you hate me, and Mick is your friend.”
“My friendship with Mick is precisely why I’m helping you.” Josef’s voice was hard as diamonds. “This human is different than the others - she’s smart and she’s nosy. Mick cares too much for her, and his affection has made him stupid. He let a reporter find out he’s a vampire, for Christ’s sake - what if she talks? I need him off his game, and he needs to be reminded his foolishness is going to be the undoing of us all.” He cleared his throat. “Take care of it, Coraline - or I start becoming very talkative to my European contacts.”
Morgan’s heart began to pound in her chest. She had been sure not even Josef knew what she’d stolen from the DuValls, but if he was threatening to tell her brothers where she was...
Her pulse returned to semi-normal at Josef’s next words.
“Rumors are your father and brothers are very upset with you. I haven’t been able to discern exactly what you took from them, but according to sources, you’re in a great deal of trouble. I have a feeling if he manages to corral you, you’re going to be very sorry you ever crossed him.”
He doesn’t know. Not even Josef can get past Father’s influences. Thank God.
Morgan let out the breath she’d been holding with a slow hiss. “I’ll take care of it and keep you posted.”
“See that you do. Have a lovely evening, Ms. Vincent.”
Morgan resisted slamming the receiver back into its cradle and sat back. Josef’s involvement with her mission to get Mick back had been a blessing and a curse. He had been vital in giving flesh to the bones of Morgan Vincent, even arranging for a family to back up her story should anyone check into her background. Josef was the one who had fed her the tip about the Griffith Park rapist, and had been instrumental in helping her establish her professional reputation in Los Angeles.
All he wanted in exchange was Mick’s return to the vampire fold, and the reporter named Beth Turner silenced.
“Vincent!” Mac Daniels’ voice trumpeted through the news room. “There’s a fire at the old Franklin Hotel downtown. Cops think it’s arson - get down there and work your magic.”
“On it, Mac.” Morgan grabbed her coat and cameras and headed for the door. Mick would have to wait.
******************************************************************
Oh my God. He's here!
Morgan almost dropped her camera in shock when she spotted a despondent Mick staring up at the raging hotel fire. Surely the saints of her youth were looking down on her, and affording her this chance to reveal herself. Her eyes narrowed as jealousy burned hotter than the fire in front of her at the sight of Beth Turner with the vampire, felt bile rise up her throat as Mick shot her an adoring gaze. Her fingers tightened on the black plastic when Beth touched Mick’s arm before moving away to interview witnesses.
He looked happy and at peace.
Morgan was going to change that.
She got a couple of photos of her handsome husband as she moved around the circle of gawkers, victims, police and fire fighters, moving closer and closer to her target. She didn’t need vampire abilities to know the second he noticed her. She’d never been so thankful for her peripheral vision, as she watched disbelief then horror flickered over Mick’s features.
She allowed herself a thin, triumphant smile as he approached her, his face white with the shock of seeing what he was positive was a ghost.
She felt heat spear through her as Mick drew closer, into her line of sight.
“Coraline!”
Gotcha.
“No...sorry...”
In photography-speak, an abberation is something that prevents light from being brought into sharp focus, disenabling the formation of a clear image, or a lens flaw that prevents the lens from reproducing a focused and sharp image.
I thought the term fit this fic.
I hope you enjoy.
Usual disclaimers apply. I own nothing but my own imagination.
ABERRATION
“Vincent...Vincent!” The grizzled L.A. Times photo editor snapped his fingers in front of Morgan’s face. “Hey, MORGAN - wake up!”
Morgan’s attention snapped to Manny as she bit back a ripe curse.
Your name is Morgan Vincent - it has been for three years. You’re Morgan now.
“Ye...yeah, boss?”
“Great job getting those shots of the Griffith Park rapist outside the courthouse yesterday. Cops sure weren’t happy the press got around the lid they put on this case.” Manny rested a hip on Morgan’s desk and leaned closer, leering down her blouse. Morgan rolled her eyes and buttoned the simple cotton shirt to her neck, and tried not to gag at the stale cigarettes on her boss’s breath. Disappointed, Manny sat back. “You got a source in the department, Vincent?”
“Not exactly.” What she had was much more valuable and a whole lot more dangerous. Three years of careful research, months of building the life of Morgan Vincent had almost come crashing down around her ears when she’d received a fateful phone call. Since that day, the arrangement the caller had proposed had reaped benefits she couldn’t have managed on her own in her current state, but it had cost her a piece of her soul.
I know what you’re up to, Mlle. Duvall - or should I call you Ms. Vincent now? I’ll be more than happy to assist you in any way I can, but I want something in return. And don’t even think of crossing me, Coraline. You won’t like the consequences.
She’d sacrificed almost everything to achieve her goals - what did it matter if her soul was lost? She’d given up the life of luxury she’d known, and she’d betrayed her family in the most heinous way imaginable. She’d made her escape from Europe two years ago with her father’s most prized possession hidden in her Louis Vuitton, and had lost herself in the labyrinth that was America. When Father realized what she had taken, he would send someone to bring her back to France and she would be punished.
Morgan shook off the shiver that skittered down her spine on spidery legs with an impatient gesture. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting back the most important thing she’d ever had.
Mick.
“I still don’t know how you managed to get Mac to give you a permanent desk here,” Manny muttered through Morgan’s daydreams of her long-lost husband. “He usually makes stringers come to him.”
“I can be persuasive when I put my mind to it.” Morgan hid a grimace. She’d had to use her body to convince more intelligent men than Mac Daniels to give her what she wanted. All it had taken this time was a sweet smile and a quick blowjob in his office after hours to secure her a place in the Times’ news floor. Morgan resisted the urge to spit on the tiled floor and squinted up at Manny. “What do you want, boss?”
Manny stood and hitched up his trousers. “Mac got a call from that sweet little reporter over at Buzzwire, Beth Turner. You know her, right?”
Morgan bit her lip to keep from snarling. “Yes, I know her - I met her a few months ago at a crime scene. She buys pictures from me sometimes.”
And she’s fucking my husband. I know she is.
If Morgan still had her sharp sense of smell, she’d be able to know whether or not the blonde tabloid reporter was spreading her legs for Mick, but being human had its definite disadvantages. Instead, she’d been following Mick for months, had followed him to a crime scene at a fountain one night. She’d watched him, hiding in the shadows, watched him pace and struggle with indecision before stepping into the halo of a streetlight and make himself known to the barefoot reporter he’d been watching all night.
Since then, she had followed the two of them, had burned with jealousy as she watched Mick with the pretty woman named Beth, had watched him touch her, and had been there when he’d kissed her for the first time. When he’d been dying in the desert, he had fed from her, breaking his vow to never bite another human.
Her benefactor had provided her with that particular tidbit, smirking as she’d fought back angry tears. Mick was happy now, he’d informed her, happier with a human than he’d ever been with his vampire wife, and Morgan hated to admit her benefactor was right.
Mick had smiled more in the few months since he’d revealed himself to Beth than he ever did through all the decades he’d been married to her. He’d always blamed her for his vampirism, had always hated her for stealing the pathetic existence he’d called his life. Mick had been nothing when she’d found him, a poor musician playing backyard parties and dingy bars, barely making enough money to keep him in cigarettes and the cheap room he rented with his bandmates. She had saved him from that travesty of a life and had given him the moon - and he had hated her for it.
“Vincent, damn it, did you hear me?” Manny waved an impatient hand. “The Turner broad wants to know if you’re willing to email her some shots for her broadcast tonight. Mac’s cleared it, as long as you don’t send her anything he intends to publish.”
“Sure...sure, of course.” Morgan fiddled with the flash drive that hung around her neck, the one that contained her livelihood. “I already sent the best ones to you and copied Mac. I’ll go through what I have left and send a couple to Beth.”
“Good girl.” Manny grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth. “I’ll let Mo Williams know to expect them before end of business.”
Morgan slid the chain off her neck and plugged the flash drive into her computer. As she sorted through various photos, her desk phone rang. She balanced the receiver on her shoulder and continued to surf through the images.
“Morgan Vincent. Can I help you?”
“Ms. Vincent.” The smooth voice on the other end was mocking.
Morgan sat up straighter and gripped the receiver in a suddenly sweaty hand. “What do you want, Josef? You agreed never to call me here.”
“Not even a ‘hello”? I’m wounded.” Josef’s voice became dangerous. “Don’t get cheeky with me, my dear. I wouldn’t want kick in your spokes on your mission to regain your lost love.”
“I asked you a question, Josef. What do you want?” Morgan swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her dry throat.
“I think it’s time we upped the ante with Mick, darling. He’s becoming entirely too comfortable with the intrepid Ms. Turner and it’s time we jerked him back just a bit.” Josef paused, and Morgan could almost see him resting his Prada-shod feet on his desk as he leaned back. “ I think it’s time you revealed yourself to your errant husband. Find an opportunity soon.”
“Alright.” Morgan hesitated, then asked a question she’d been harboring for six months. “Can I ask you something, Josef?”
“Of course.”
“Why are you helping me? I know you hate me, and Mick is your friend.”
“My friendship with Mick is precisely why I’m helping you.” Josef’s voice was hard as diamonds. “This human is different than the others - she’s smart and she’s nosy. Mick cares too much for her, and his affection has made him stupid. He let a reporter find out he’s a vampire, for Christ’s sake - what if she talks? I need him off his game, and he needs to be reminded his foolishness is going to be the undoing of us all.” He cleared his throat. “Take care of it, Coraline - or I start becoming very talkative to my European contacts.”
Morgan’s heart began to pound in her chest. She had been sure not even Josef knew what she’d stolen from the DuValls, but if he was threatening to tell her brothers where she was...
Her pulse returned to semi-normal at Josef’s next words.
“Rumors are your father and brothers are very upset with you. I haven’t been able to discern exactly what you took from them, but according to sources, you’re in a great deal of trouble. I have a feeling if he manages to corral you, you’re going to be very sorry you ever crossed him.”
He doesn’t know. Not even Josef can get past Father’s influences. Thank God.
Morgan let out the breath she’d been holding with a slow hiss. “I’ll take care of it and keep you posted.”
“See that you do. Have a lovely evening, Ms. Vincent.”
Morgan resisted slamming the receiver back into its cradle and sat back. Josef’s involvement with her mission to get Mick back had been a blessing and a curse. He had been vital in giving flesh to the bones of Morgan Vincent, even arranging for a family to back up her story should anyone check into her background. Josef was the one who had fed her the tip about the Griffith Park rapist, and had been instrumental in helping her establish her professional reputation in Los Angeles.
All he wanted in exchange was Mick’s return to the vampire fold, and the reporter named Beth Turner silenced.
“Vincent!” Mac Daniels’ voice trumpeted through the news room. “There’s a fire at the old Franklin Hotel downtown. Cops think it’s arson - get down there and work your magic.”
“On it, Mac.” Morgan grabbed her coat and cameras and headed for the door. Mick would have to wait.
******************************************************************
Oh my God. He's here!
Morgan almost dropped her camera in shock when she spotted a despondent Mick staring up at the raging hotel fire. Surely the saints of her youth were looking down on her, and affording her this chance to reveal herself. Her eyes narrowed as jealousy burned hotter than the fire in front of her at the sight of Beth Turner with the vampire, felt bile rise up her throat as Mick shot her an adoring gaze. Her fingers tightened on the black plastic when Beth touched Mick’s arm before moving away to interview witnesses.
He looked happy and at peace.
Morgan was going to change that.
She got a couple of photos of her handsome husband as she moved around the circle of gawkers, victims, police and fire fighters, moving closer and closer to her target. She didn’t need vampire abilities to know the second he noticed her. She’d never been so thankful for her peripheral vision, as she watched disbelief then horror flickered over Mick’s features.
She allowed herself a thin, triumphant smile as he approached her, his face white with the shock of seeing what he was positive was a ghost.
She felt heat spear through her as Mick drew closer, into her line of sight.
“Coraline!”
Gotcha.
“No...sorry...”
but it could have happened.
As for Josef, I can't imagine Mick's involvement with a reporter EVER sat well with him, so I can totally see his fingers in this particular pie.
Mick has not one, but two forces working against him - Coraline's idea of love and Josef's idea of friendship. Both of them think they know what's best for him, but neither seem to care what HE thinks is best.
