Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Blood Ties belong to Tanya Huff, Lifetime, and probably a couple of production companies, not to me.
"Missing Scene" following the episode, "Heart of Fire."
Humanitas
humanitas - Kindness, one of the seven holy virtues
The door opened at Vicki's knock, and there stood Fitzroy regarding them levelly. He was dressed in a simple black shirt and trousers, the lack of other finery or accessories making him look very young. But the pain behind his semi-hostile gaze was ancient. This won't go well, Mike thought.
"Is this an official visit?" Fitzroy asked Mike.
Vicki said nothing, but shifted her weight, letting Mike answer. "No," Mike said firmly.
No one said anything further. Fitzroy waited, his suspicious expression unchanged.
Finally Vicki asked, "Can we come in?"
Fitzroy looked at her, his expression not softening. It was a long few seconds before he released the door, letting it drift open, and withdrew a step. Mike followed Vicki in.
Mike took in the penthouse apartment, with huge windows overlooking the city, the modern but sparse furniture, and the expensive floor coverings and artwork. The effect was like a museum, where open spaces are used to lend significance to the pieces. Fitzroy stood in one open space, belonging in this gallery. He could have been a sculpture of wronged innocence. Mike gave himself an inward shake. Wronged Fitzroy certainly was, but Mike refused to believe him an innocent.
Their host said nothing, not even offering them a seat. Mike took one anyway; he was still too light-headed from blood loss to stand for long without wavering. Fitzroy regarded him a little too keenly as he sat.
Vicki licked her lips and began. "Henry, I know we're probably the last people you want to see right now, but we have to talk." She swallowed, watching his reaction. "We have some things you need to know, and there are still some things Mike wants to know, and . . . I have to know you're all right."
Mike tensed as Fitzroy fixed him with a glare. "I am not all right. We are not all right. And Celucci doesn't have a right to know anything about me," he said and turned away, toward the windows.
"Henry . . ." Vicki squared her shoulders. "We saw Delphine."
Fitzroy whirled back around, wide-eyed. He looked like a completely different man; hope and apprehension mixed with keen interest. Suspicion momentarily abandoned. "What?" he gasped. "Delphine?"
"I'm sorry, she's dead," Vicki blurted out before any more hope could show on Fitzroy's face. Mike watched as Fitzroy struggled to swallow that information, his gaze still fixed on Vicki's face. He managed to push the hope away, leaving only the dread
"What happened?" he asked, sounding as wretched as had any of the dozens of parents/spouses/lovers Mike had had to inform of a loved one's death.
"We were looking for you, following Mendoza's trail and we found her in chains in a church basement."
Henry winced and nodded slightly, still gazing intently at Vicki. Clearly this information didn't surprise him. "Dead?" he asked, softly.
"No, she was alive." Vicki admitted. Fitzroy's mobile features changed again, into something like shock. "We, um," Vicki looked down. Fitzroy moved away from the window, to stand about a meter in front of her. "He had abandoned her and she was starving and I couldn't see how to get her free from the chains, so I fed her some of my blood . . ." Vicki spoke in a rush. Fitzroy blinked. "The windows were covered up but he had some mechanical device that suddenly uncovered them and it was daylight."
This Fitzroy had not expected. His mouth dropped open in horror. Mike shivered a little, too, remembering the horrible burning death he'd seen the woman endure. "No!" Fitzroy cried, a cry of anguish. His hands flew up to cover his face but he ripped them down again into fists, his features contorted in grief. "Delphine!"
"I'm sorry," Vicki said, recoiling.
Fitzroy staggered two steps toward Mike like he'd just taken a dagger in the chest. He stopped at the glass coffee table that stood between them, raised one fist and cried, "I killed him too quick!" He brought his fist down at an alarming rate and shattered the table.
Mike leaped from his chair, but then nearly fell over at the sudden activity and had to grip the back of the chair for support. When his vision cleared, he saw Fitzroy collapsed on a long armless couch, Vicki approaching him cautiously. Abruptly Fitzroy sat up and whirled toward her, reached out for her hands and pulled her into a seated position beside him. In one hand he held her left, bandaged hand. She looked startled, but not alarmed. "This is where you fed her?" Fitzroy asked.
Vicki nodded, eyes owlish behind her glasses. Fitzroy looked down at her bandage, then slowly bent his head to her palm, eyes closed. Vicki tensed, but allowed the action, her gaze flicking to Mike. Fitzroy pressed his mouth against the bandage, but Mike couldn't see that he did anything further. He realized with a start that the man wasn't feeding; it was a kiss. When he raised his head from her palm, he pressed her hand against his heart, his eyes still closed, like some Harlequin lover or soap opera melodrama - thing. Or, Mike thought uncertainly, like a Tudor prince? Hell, who knew.
Fitzroy returned Vicki's hand to her solemnly and stood looking out his windows again.
"This is what you came to tell me?" he asked in a tired tone of voice.
"Well, yes, mostly. I guess," Vicki said. Mike might ordinarily have enjoyed seeing Vicki squirm, but he knew what was coming next.
"I still have some questions," Mike said quietly, braced for the storm.
Fitzroy's turn was slow and menacing. "Questions!" he yelled, pacing toward Mike, but stopped by a pool of shattered glass. "It was your questions that started this! You have no right!" His voice shook with anger. "How dare you. And after what you did. You betrayed me. You turned me over to that lunatic. You put that thing in my heart." Here Fitzroy's hand went to his chest as if the pain were still there. "He starved me, he bled me, he burned me with a blowtorch," Mike saw Vicki gasp. "He turned me into . . ." Fitzroy's voice caught and he stopped, took a shuddering breath, and finished through clenched teeth. "I don't owe you any explanations."
Mike took his own deep breath, wishing he didn't feel so weak as he signed his own death warrant. "But I have to have them anyway," he said.
There was a long moment of silence as Fitzroy stared at him through narrowed eyes. "What?" he asked finally, as if he were truly uncomprehending.
Mike explained, knowing full well it would be meaningless to the man. "I have to know you are not a threat to the citizens of this city. Please just explain things to me."
Vicki cast her eyes heavenward. When Mike had gotten his own thoughts together enough to explain it to her, she'd called him a host of synonyms for "moron," but she'd understood. She was still a cop at heart.
Still looking bemused, like a king who can't quite believe his servant has defied him, Fitzroy said, "I thought this wasn't an official visit."
Mike gripped the back of the chair harder. "If it were, I'd be arresting you for the murder I know you did commit."
"Except there's no body," Vicki put in.
"Except there's no body," Mike agreed. "I was hoping you could explain that, too. Look," he hated that his voice shook, but he pressed on, "I know how impossible it would be for the justice system to deal with you. I have no illusions there. And I can see how things are not so cut and dried for you. But this is . . . about me. I can't . . ." Mike faltered before the intensity of the vampire's gaze, but pulled himself together. "Whatever the consequences, I can't go on like everything's normal. I have to have some reassurance that you won't . . . kill. Because of who I am, of what I do."
"Or else what?" Fitzroy asked.
"I don't know," Mike looked down, his heart pounding and his vision graying. He levered himself around to the front of the chair and sank heavily into it. "But whatever I try will have due process. I will never trust someone like Mendoza again. I can't believe I gave you to him. I can't believe what he did to you." The memory of Delphine burning came again. "No one deserves that," he almost whispered.
"Due process?" Fitzroy asked, almost sounding amused.
Mike shrugged. "You may have to kill me," he said, looking at the shattered glass.
"Mike," Vicki breathed.
"Or you could do me a kindness and explain to me why I shouldn't worry about you. The extent to which you are a danger and aren't. You don't owe it to me. But I have to ask. I have to."
Fitzroy shook his head. "I am not explaining anything to you. You're as crazy as Javier." He gave Vicki an accusing glare.
"This isn't an ambush, Henry. It's not an unreasonable request," she said.
"It isn't?" he sneered. "You want me to explain to you how I am not the monster you saw me become. What he turned me into . . ." Fitzroy ran a shaking hand over his face. "I could have killed you. I could have killed Celucci. So now you want a confession, too? I did kill Mendoza. You want to know what happened to his body? It turned to the dust it should have been for centuries. Marie . . . I made her like me, a Godless, damned monster." Fitzroy's rant took on a hysterical edge. Mike didn't know who Marie was, but if Fitzroy was pulling in other tragedies, other deaths, this started to sound a lot like something Mike was well familiar with - trauma. How many survivors of atrocities had Mike and his fellow police officers had to gentle and ease until the counselors could arrive? What therapy was available for Fitzroy?
"Wait!" Vicki cried, in command voice. "Wait a minute! Is that what you think I saw?" She stood and positioned herself between the two men, facing Fitzroy. "You think I saw a monster?"
Fitzroy quieted, watching her uneasily.
"You . . . you begged Mendoza to let me go. He had me there to feed you, and you begged him to let me go. You confessed to things - I don't understand what things, but you wouldn't confess them until he threatened me. Then you did whatever harm to yourself you wouldn't let him do to you. For me. When you were starving. That's what I saw. You could have killed me, but you wouldn't have. You know how I know? Because you didn't kill Mike when you could have. Yeah, I know I was yelling at you to stop, but there wasn't a damn thing I could have done to stop you. You stopped you." Vicki had tears running down her face, but her voice was strong and almost angry.
Fitzroy gazed at her, enthralled.
"You think I saw a monster?" Now her voice did catch, in amazement, on the final word. "That is not what I saw. I saw you hanging on to humanity with every bit of strength you had. Under the most horrible conditions. And Marie?" Fitzroy started, slightly. "You know what I heard in that story? You know what she said to Javier and what he did to her because you went back . She wasn't your lover or even your friend. She was your jailer. You were in the hands of the God damned Spanish Inquisition and you went back after getting free. For her. Good God, where does that come from? It doesn't come from any monster." Vicki paused for a deep breath. "You told me, when we were hunting the Wendigo, you told me that you weren't human. But I don't believe you. I've never seen anyone fight so hard for their humanity. It was the bravest thing I've ever seen and I am not letting you throw it away." She sniffed, hard, and wiped an eye with the back of her hand. "Now calm down and tell Mike what he needs to know. Tell us the truth, even if it's ugly. I don't think we'll be surprised by it."
Mike watched, also enthralled. He had never heard Vicki say anything like this, and knew it had to have cost her a lot to do it. Fitzroy and Vicki stood an arms length apart, not very different in height, staring hard at each other. The next logical thing was for them to fall into each other's arms. With an odd detachment, Mike waited for it to happen.
It didn't. With only slightly faster than normal speed, Fitzroy left the room. Vicki gulped and turned toward Mike, fishing in her purse. "I so need a Kleenex," she said.
Mike dug in his pants pocket and produced his handkerchief. He held it out.
"Thanks," Vicki said.
"Jesus, Vic."
Vicki shook her head as she blew her nose. "Don't, Mike. And if you ever bring this up again, I'll kill you myself."
"Right."