Author's Note: It's been a long time since I've written any fanfiction, but since watching Misfits I've felt the urge to get back into it and create my own story with the characters we all know and love. Still muddling along as far as plot goes, and this first chapter is quite short, but I thought I'd post this and see if people think it's worth continuing with. As I say, it's been a while! Reviews and any constructive criticisms are welcome, thanks in advance, and here's hoping you all don't think I'm wasting my time here :)

One by one, the fluorescent ceiling panels flickered to life. The large room appeared bare and cold, almost sterile. But she knew differently. It was simple, it was clean, it was... him. Alisha crawled onto the bed and placed her head on the pillow, breathing in deeply. His scent wasn't there anymore, but she closed her eyes and tried to remember it. Soap, a hint of aftershave, and something else, something she had never been able to define. Even the memory of it was enough to make her heart beat faster.

She rolled onto her back, running a hand across the cool sheet beneath her. The things they'd done together in this bed, the things he'd made her feel, all came flooding back. Everything had been so unexpected. He could touch her without being affected by her power, for one thing. When he'd first gently ran his fingers down the side of her face, she could scarcely believe how good it felt to finally have proper human contact again. She never wanted him to stop touching her. She thought it would always be like this.

And then he died.

Abruptly she sat up, both hands gripping the edge of the bed as she remembered what happened. He'd saved her life; the bullet intended for her had hit him instead. She'd held him in her arms, blood flowing freely from the wound in his chest. She'd known then he was going to die, but she'd still wished with everything she had that he'd be all right. Within a minute, he was gone, and once again she was untouchable, isolated, and alone.

She looked at the wall almost completely covered in photographs, with the exception of several digital clock displays, all reading zero. The countdown was over. Everything he'd needed to achieve to set the future right had been done, according to him. She didn't understand half of what he'd said about the future; he'd been so cryptic. The less she knew the better, he'd claimed. There was still so much she didn't know, and now he could never tell her.

She breathed his name. "Simon." Silent tears trickled down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands.

The dull grey clouds hung low over the community centre, almost like a blanket. The whole area could be described as dull; minimalist-style buildings that were all angles and slopes, concrete steps and walkways. Simple, stark, and utterly boring.

Nathan put his hands on his hips and peered around from the roof of the community centre. The hotspot, the chill-out zone, a place of peace for the group. Whenever there was an opportunity to avoid the required work, Nathan found it. He stood close to the edge of the roof, admiring the view. He stretched his arms up over his head, making an unnattractive face as he yawned. Swivelling around, he looked at the others, all sitting silently in the old recliners they'd 'borrowed' from the centre. "I've been thinkin'."

"First time for everything," Curtis muttered.

"We should all do somethin'. Go out, get blind drunk, have some fun. We've been doin' this community service bullshit for too long, it's startin' to get depressing. Look at Barry." He pointed to Simon, who sat up a little, appearing apprehensive. "If anyone's in need of a drink and a shag, it's him. And me too, while we're at it, if there's time. But that's not the point."

"So what is your point?" Kelly asked with a scowl, taking a drag of her cigarette.

Nathan slowly paced back and forth, arms clasped behind his back, as he considered. "Through no fault of your own, I'm sure, you've all become... what's the word? Lifeless? Boring? Something that means both. Ah! Deadshits! You're all a bunch of deadshits lately, and I plan on bringin' you all back to life with a good old-fashioned string of petty crimes fuelled by massive amounts of alcohol and drugs. How's tonight for everyone?" He rubbed his hands together.

They all stared back.

"What makes you think we want to party with you?" Curtis stood up. "You're an annoying little shit that we're forced to put up with for eight hours a day. Why would we hang out with you by choice?"

Nathan put a hand on his heart, pretending to be wounded. "And there I was, thinkin' that during our time together we'd bonded. I thought you cared. Shame on you."

"Whatever." Curtis shook his head and started walking to the door leading to the stairwell. "You lot coming?"

Kelly stabbed her cigarette out on the chair arm and headed for the door. After a moment, Simon followed.

"All right then, fine! I'll go out and get pissed and get laid on my own then, will I?" Nathan shouted after them. The door closed behind Simon, leaving him alone on the rooftop. "Shit." He'd always known that he wasn't exactly everyone's cup of tea, but that was part of his charm; at least that's what he'd thought. Maybe he'd been too much of a smart arse lately. More than usual, anyway. He waved it off, confident that eventually they'd come round.

His phone vibrated in his jumpsuit pocket. A text message. From Alisha. She hadn't joined them on the roof; earlier she'd mumbled something about having some alone time. He never really paid a whole lot of attention to the things she said. Her breasts, however, never failed to capture his interest. A thought struck him. Her and Curtis were finished, so she could be looking for a shoulder to cry on. Or a dick to sit on, he thought. His smirk changed into an expression of confusion when he read her message.

Help me.