Interlude
by elfin
Three murders and two attacks later they found themselves up in the Scottish
Highlands for the second time in a year.
Taggart hated the cold and the midges and the mountains and anything else
the open countryside had to offer. Michael loved it. If it hadn't
been for the lack of excitement on the career front up here, he might have
left the city for the peace.
It had been a choice between two rooms in 'Mrs MacBeth's' B&B, or a
twin at the four-star Highs Hotel. Feeling generous for once in his
life, Jim sprang for the extra cost of the hotel. Sharing a room, they
both agreed, was better than the horror that was Mrs MacBeth's nylon sheets.
The interviews were over by three that afternoon, and Michael dropped Jim
back at the luxury hotel.
"Do you mind if I... nip over to a friend's place?"
Taggart leaned on the car door, peering inside the car. "A friend?
I didn't know you knew anyone up here." Michael just smiled, expression
still asking the question. "Sure, go on with you. Just..." he
grinned, "be back by ten or there'll be hell to pay." He winked before
walking off towards the hotel, a large whiskey in his immediate future.
The Highs Inn was only fifteen minutes from the Countess Von Ashenburg's
hotel.
Michael parked the car next to a familiar looking Volvo. It was a
beautiful evening, an incredible sunset. One to share perhaps.
Casting an appreciative gaze over the scenery, he walked into the hotel
lobby and through into the bar. The blond barman was serving a couple
of customers and Michael waited, leaning on the oak surface until Robbie Mickeljohn
asked him what he wanted as he put the payment for the other drinks into
the till.
"Mineral water, thanks."
Robbie looked up. "Michael...."
*one year earlier*
It beat Mrs MacBeth's Bed & Breakfast, and the countess didn't seem
to mind them staying here.
Jim had gone to bed, having an early night after a wonderful evening
meal and a few double whiskeys.
Michael, despite himself, had taken a stool at the bar. Jim had practically
forced a single malt down his throat an hour ago, but he was back onto his
usual mineral water.
The man who had been their main suspect was back behind the bar,
suspicion lifted. He'd been telling the truth as he'd sat in the police
station that afternoon, both Jim and Michael had known that.
It was late now, they'd missed the last train back to Glasgow. Not
that Michael minded. He didn't have a lot to go back to. All
he really had was up here with him.
As he sat enjoying the peace of the hotel and the absolute, unpolluted
darkness outside the window the bar slowly emptied.
"Are you on duty or this normal?" Robbie indicated the clear liquid
in the glass on the bar on front of Michael.
"I don't drink."
Robbie looked surprised. He threw the cloth to the back of the bar
and leaned down, crossing his arms. "Are you really a policeman?"
Michael laughed, "what's that supposed to mean?"
"I've never known a policeman who didn't drink."
"First time for everything."
They looked at one another, dark blue eyes meeting liquid brown.
And something changed.
Mickeljohn closed up the bar and settled his eyes on the guest. "Walk?"
Michael let the smile in his eyes shape his lips. "Aye." Neither
of them saw the look on the face of Richard, the hotel manager, as he watched
them go.
They sat side by side on the hill behind the hotel, looking up at the stars,
studying the galaxies.
"It's so beautiful up here," Michael murmured, more to himself than his
companion. "You can't see this in Glasgow."
"It's why I love it. I couldn't stand to live in a city."
"You get used to it."
Robbie looked across at the blond who'd captured him attention the moment
he'd walked into the hotel yesterday. "Why don't you drink?"
Michael opened his mouth to speak then hesitated, he'd never actually ever
said it out loud. "My father was a drunk. He was police officer,
joined the force with my boss. But he had to quit because of his health,
and in the end... it killed him. I watched him drink himself into
an early grave...."
"I'm sorry." But Michael shook his head, and for a while they sat
in a comfortable silence. "You and your boss... you get on well, don't
you? He gives the outward impression that he's just a mentor to you,
but underneath it all he seems fond of you."
Michael shifted his attention to the dark blond next to him. "You're
very perceptive."
Robbie couldn't help himself. The large blue eyes seemed to speak
to his very soul. He reached out, touching the blond hair that his fingers
had been aching to play with. "And you're very beautiful."
Their mouths met in an open kiss that held none of the hesitation of a
first contact. Tongues dragged lazily one over the other, tasting
one another. Michael reached his arm up to curl it around Robbie's
shoulders.
When they parted, Robbie covered Michael's hand with his own. "Don't
tell me we can't do this."
"I wasn't going to."
"Does your boss know about you?"
Michael gave a half-smile. "I think he suspects. I'm not sure.
I think he sees me as his protege."
Robbie wrapped his hand around the back of Michael's neck, rubbing his
thumb along the curve of his jaw. "I think he sees you as a surrogate
son. I don't think he'd approve of me."
Michael tilted his head, blushing slightly. "Are we goin'a sit and
talk about my boss, or are you goin'a take me back to your room?"
Robbie ran his fingers through Michael's hair, tightening his arm to clasp
his lover more closely against him.
Michael lay draped decadently over the other man's chest, head rested in
the dip of his shoulder. The fingers of his right hand played abstractly
with Robbie's fingers.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again, let alone enjoy this."
Michael lifted his head, resting his chin on the slim chest. "Jim's
convinced one of his main suspects is hiding out up here."
A hint of a smile turned Robbie's lips. "'Jim' is it now?" he teased.
"I never quite understood what you thought was going on between us."
Michael teased right back.
"He loves you, Mike, at least that much must be clear to you."
He dropped a kiss to the pale skin beneath him. "You're jealous."
"Of course I am!"
"There's nothing between us. I've stuck to a diet of women recently."
He smiled at a memory. "There was another man, a while ago.
He was called Robbie too. But I haven't seen him in ages. I
don't know where he is now."
"So you've been saving yourself for me."
Crawling further up his lover's chest, Michael planted a long, deep kiss
on the tempting mouth of the other man. "In. Your. Dreams."
Robbie laughed, wrapping his arms around the body above him and turning
them both, tucking Michael beneath him. "You, Michael Jardine, are my
wildest fantasy."
*
Taggart looked over the top of his morning newspaper as Michael sat down
opposite him at the small table. His Inspector hadn't been back all
night, and he was insatiably curious.
"Who was the old friend? Someone I know?"
Michael smiled. "I'm not sure I should tell you."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure you'd approve."
Jim laughed. "Who am I to dictate your friends? Come on...."
He hesitated. "Robbie Mickeljohn."
It took a couple of seconds for Taggart to place the name. "Mickeljohn?
The barman from Countess Ashenburg's hotel?" Michael nodded.
"How long have you known him?!" It was said in his 'is there something
I should have known' voice.
"Just since we came up here to interview him last year."
Jim frowned, knowing there was something he should be grasping here.
"I didn't know you two became friends. You were only up here as long
as I was, weren't you?"
"Aye, Sir. But the night we stayed at the hotel, you went to bed
early." His tone remained innocent as he spoke.
Jim chuckled. "Don't tell me, you sat at the bar and drank until
the wee hours."
"Of course not."
The slight accusation in his tone amused Jim and he smiled indulgently.
He loved this man.
"So... what?"
Michael poured himself a cup of coffee and sat back, smiling smugly.
Taggart was the great detective, he could work it out.
fin
elfin
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