Title: I Don't Think I Can Look At This The Same
Author: OneShotWonderment (aka. CrashDownPixie)
Pairing: George/Mitchell
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: 1x04
Summary: Being human isn't the hardest thing to do…coping is.
Notes: Thanks to kaizokufor the prompt at smallfandomfest on LiveJournal and 3 Doors Down for the title!
At first, George ignored Mitchell's absence. It was not the first time his vampire friend had needed time to himself. After all, he'd spent god knows who many years among only vampires, George had to figure that living with him, a living, breathing, bleeding werewolf, took quite a toll on Mitchell's ability to stay on the wagon. As such, he did not worry when Mitchell did not come home one night or the next or the next…
A week went by and George was beginning to become concerned. What if something were wrong? What if something had been wrong since the first day Mitchell didn't come home? What if he was hurt somewhere just waiting for George to come and…bloody hell. What was he thinking? Mitchell was a vampire! He couldn't be hurt…for the most part and it's not as if his weaknesses were well known or anything. Most the vampire lore was wrong. There were few people with the knowledge required to hurt John Mitchell and, to the best of George's recollection, those people wanted Mitchell back, not dead or hurt. The werewolf brushed it off.
One week blended into two and finally three and George just couldn't take it anymore. Mitchell never disappeared for this long not since the werewolf had known him anyway. Sure, once he'd vanished for two weeks, but he had called George practically every day of those two weeks because he didn't want George to worry. Not that he had been, mind you…well, not much.
This was different; this was bad.
It didn't help George's rational thinking that Annie was still poltergeist-ing all over the house. She was teetering dangerously between anger at Own, worry about Mitchell, and, most recently, anger at George for not being worried enough about Mitchell. He'd stopped trying to calm her in the middle of week two. It was really just a waste of his energy; his very valuable and rapidly dwindling energy supply.
Without Mitchell, George's life was unrevealing slowly but surely. A few years ago, George would have laughed at the idea that one person could affect his life so grandly. It wasn't so long ago that Julia had meant the world to him but he could function without her. Functioning was an overstatement for how George was living now. It wasn't that he didn't know how to live a life where Mitchell wasn't around, he just found himself not wanting to do so. Where life had once seemed so bright and possible, even with his curse, was just dull and unending now.
People at the hospital began inquiring after Mitchell's whereabouts at week two. George wondered were their situations reversed would anyone bother Mitchell with questions about him. Probably not. It's not that people don't notice George, he does not have that bad of a self-image, but humans tended to avoid Mitchell…unless Mitchell wanted to be approached. George thought of it as another vampire perk.
Nina seemed to be the only one at the hospital to notice George and the effect Mitchell's absence had on him. She saw him falling apart and, bless her soul, she tried. She tried to help him. She tried to stick it out. She honestly tried.
"George," He forced his gaze off the dirty white wall of the cafeteria and into Nina's concerned eyes. He knew right then what was coming. It was clear and he found himself truly okay with it. "George, we can't do this."
She seemed sad and he hated that. She was a lovely woman and she mattered to him. He wanted to make it better. He wanted her to be happy, but he couldn't make it better and she couldn't be happy with him in the picture.
"I know." He stated solemnly. His hand grabbed hers without conscious thought and he held on for a brief second. "Could we…one day, Nina, do you think we could be friends?"
George wanted that. He wanted Nina in his life, even if it wasn't in the romantic sense, because she was good for him. She was his friend and he wanted to have that. Was he greedy to want that? Was he greedy to want her, Annie, and Mitchell?
"Maybe…someday, but not now. I just…it hurts."
That was the end of George and Nina. It didn't hurt him. It should have, but it didn't.
On Monday of week four, George decided he could no longer wait for Mitchell to return. It was not going to happen. He started by canvassing Mitchell's everyday hangouts: the coffee shop he got a latté at every day, but never actually drank. The flower shop where he said hi to the little flower girl every Tuesday. The little store where Mitchell bought donuts for George every morning after the full moon.
None of them had seen Mitchell, not that he had really expected them to, and George was out of options. It was the week of the full moon, George needed his vampire back.
He had to do the one thing he promised Mitchell he would never do.
He had to talk to Herrick.
Herrick spent an awful lot of time milling about the hospital these days. It was a simple fact that made George lose hope that he would ever see Mitchell again. Herrick wouldn't dare step on Mitchell's territory as he was unless he knew Mitchell would not stop him.
Herrick knew something; his behavior change spoke volumes to the werewolf. When Mitchell was around, the elder vampire would never even have considered pulling some of the stunts that he was now. For one thing, there were numerous bodies in the morgue with no apparent cause of death. Granted, George never actually saw Herrick or anyone under his command do anything, but he had seen several of the now-dead patients talking to Herrick a few days prior to their deaths.
It felt like an end.
Now, though, George was glad Herrick was around so much, it gave him ample opportunity to…discuss Mitchell's whereabouts with him.
There was just one small problem. George only knew of Herrick by association; the two had never before had occasion to speak. He had no idea how to approach the police officer much less start a conversation with him.
Usually, when George didn't know what to do, he reverted to his tried-and-true approach: WWMD.
What would Mitchell do?
Even with that thought in his mind, George still stumbled over his words when Herrick suddenly turned to face him.
"George! What a lovely surprise! How have you been?" The vampire smiled, but George could see that there was no friendliness behind it. Herrick blamed George for Mitchell's pro-human lifestyle even though Mitchell made that choice long before George entered his life. George didn't mind being blame for that. They were just denying the truth; more vampires could make the same. Herrick would not have wanted that news to get out; it would have meant an end to the army he had been creating.
"Been better," George answered truthfully.
"You smell different." Herrick stepped forward into George's personal space and the younger man blinked but didn't back down. It was the week of the full moon; George was finally able to defend himself against any real attacks from the vampires. He wasn't as strong as the wolf would be on the night of the full moon, but he was strong enough.
"Thanks?" Herrick smiled once more with disdain written in every wrinkle the action created. Werewolves weren't best friends with vampires…despite their similar outcast statuses. According to Mitchell, werewolves and vampires were natural enemies. He said it had something to do with territory and prey. When George pressed for more information, Mitchell couldn't give him any. George was the first werewolf Mitchell had come across in his many years and obviously, their interactions didn't explain the animosity.
"I know what's different," There was a light in the elder man's eyes that made even George's inner wolf weary. This conversation, short as it was, was about to take a turn for the worst. "You don't smell like you have been begging at Mitchell's heels like usual. What happened, dog, your master finally get sick of you and leave you behind?"
George schooled his features into a state of neutrality. Herrick was trying to find a weak spot in George's amour but George was careful not to let on that he had. To be honest, George had been worried since the moment he and Mitchell had become friends that Mitchell would get bored with George's too-human antics and leave. In all of George's imaginings though, Mitchell always said goodbye. He never just left without a word. That just wasn't like Mitchell.
"Have you seen him?" George preferred the blunt way of talking to anyone he wasn't sure about. It lessened the contact greatly and provided the answers he needed faster. A trick he learned from Mitchell, actually, and one that he should probably teach Annie. Her strategy of talk-the-ear-off-anyone-who-scares-me wasn't practical.
Herrick didn't insult George's intelligence by pretending. He simply smirked and settled himself onto the bench nearby. George wanted so very badly to tear that smirk off his face, the wolf inside him was pushing hard to get out early. Normally, he had a few more days before it pushed at him, but even the wolf knew something was wrong. Someone important was gone and it just wanted that someone back. The wolf's thoughts were bleeding into George's making it hard to focus. George needed to find Mitchell before the full moon or the wolf would hunt him down itself.
"As a matter of fact…"
"Where?" George didn't have the luxury of time anymore. Maybe he never had it to start with.
"I thought he would have called you." Herrick clicked his tongue lightly in, what George assumed, was disappointment. "I taught him to take better care of his pets."
George couldn't help the growl that tore from his throat. The wolf didn't like being called someone's pet…it was not tamed, damn it! "Where is he, Herrick? What did you do to him?"
"Do to him?" Herrick laughed again and George clenched his hands at his sides to keep from making too much of a spectacle in the overly white hallway. "Nothing at all."
"Am I just supposed to trust that?"
"Have I ever given you a reason not to?" Herrick waited for a reply that would never come. The man had given him plenty of reason, maybe not directly, but a reason was still a reason. "You can come see for yourself, if you want."
"Don't do this. Herrick can't be trusted. You know that. There's something wrong here." The werewolf should have probably been concerned at hearing his best friend's voice in his head, but he grown used to since Mitchell's disappearance. He had gotten so used to relying on the vampire's guidance that his brain was forced to compensate. It actually made him feel better to have a little piece of Mitchell with him…even if a psychiatrist would probably diagnose him as insane because of it.
George was well aware of that, but so what if there was? George wouldn't make it through the week without Mitchell anyway. Whether he died today or four days from now, he would still be dead. What difference did four days make? He could either risk his life now and maybe get Mitchell back or spend the next four days miserable and then lock himself up in a room that he would not be able to get out of? George had no else to ask to come get him out. Annie was still going insane and Nina and he were not on speaking terms. Not that he would ask her if they were. He didn't want her even remotely involved in that part of his life.
He would stay locked up in that dingy room until he starved to death.
He wanted to be able to say, when he reached whatever came next, that he tried to see Mitchell one last time, at least.
The urge to laugh was almost undeniable as George came upon the funeral pallor. Vampires were very big on the clichés. He casted a quick glance at the empty space next to him on the sidewalk. He rather wished that Annie had demanded to come with him. She had just passively wished him good luck on retrieving Mitchell and let him leave. The young man could have really used her beside him.
The truth of it all was that George was afraid. Afraid of walking into a nest of vampires unarmed. Afraid all of it was indeed a trap and he was about to give the vampires a werewolf to cage and "play" with. Afraid that Herrick had lied and Mitchell was not inside the dilapidated looking building. Afraid that Mitchell had been gone the whole time and he would never get to see him again. Afraid that he would die never having told Mitchell the truth.
But fear was for people who didn't live their lives surrounded by the supernatural. Fear was for people who cared what happened next. George didn't care, not anymore. It all seemed so pointless. When had life turned on its head? Before Mitchell left life might not have always been fun, but at least, he had a reason. Before, they were George, Mitchell and Annie and they lived because life had a point. They lived because they needed each other. Now, Annie was losing herself. Mitchell was either dead, prisoner, or worse. Perhaps, he had lost his humanity as he had always feared. Maybe that was why life had suddenly changed. Maybe all three of them had lost their humanity to their supernatural curses. Maybe this had been coming all along.
George pushed his fears away and walked the short distance to the funeral pallor. He had to find out for himself, regardless of what he discovered inside.
The door to the funeral pallor opened to reveal, oddly enough, a funeral pallor. There was a small blandly colored waiting room of to the right with a door in the far corner and a staircase almost directly ahead of the foyer that George stood in. He hadn't expected them to keep up the façade. They were vampires, after all. They could just kill any hapless human who wandered in under mistaken impressions.
"I'm sorry," said the vampire hunched over the desk off to the right side of the room. "I was just on my way out, but if you'd like to wait here I'm sure someone will be here momentarily to assist you."
"I'm here to see Mitchell."
The vampire turned around so fast that George could barely see him do it. He stared at George in utter silence for a minute before asking, "What are you doing here?'
"Didn't I just answer that?" George replied with a roll of his eyes. "I'm here to see Mitchell." George stepped ever so slightly toward the stairs to gauge the other man's reactions. His eyes shifted toward the stairs judging George's distance to them, his hand twitching at his side. George took another step forward and the vampire could no longer take the werewolf's nonverbal threats. He reached forward and slammed George against the nearest wall. His head hit the wall behind him so hard that his vision swam.
"No dogs allowed." said the vampire as he bent his head toward George's neck. George didn't know what would happen if he was bitten. The closest that he had ever come had been that incident with Lauren after her memorial service. She had backed off, repulsed by what he was. George had therefore classified himself unbiteable, not repulsive because the thought of that made his heart clench, and moved on. However, this vampire, whoever he was, seemed bound and determined to bite him.
George fought against the hold of this unknown enemy and when nothing seemed to work, George resorted to the dirtiest trick in the book. He kicked forward as hard as he could and hoped his foot connected with its target. It did and the vampire dropped George back onto his own feet as he howled in pain. George cringed and, even though he knew his actions were justified, said, "Sorry." He was a guy, after all, he knew how much getting hit in that area hurt.
"No need for that, George. Seth should know better than to attack our guests." Herrick's tone was vaguely admonishing as he entered the foyer from the waiting room that Seth had come out of. He hadn't been in the waiting room when George first entered, he would have noticed, so he must have come in from the door in the back corner. The werewolf didn't even want to think of what was going on back there. Herrick clapped a hand on Seth's shoulder in a friendly manner, but George could see how deep the wrinkles in Seth's shirt were under that hand. If the shorter man were human, that grip would have shattered his shoulder.
"Guest? But-"
"George here is concerned that we have harmed Mitchell in some manner. I told him, of course, that we did no such thing, but George does not believe me. I told him that he could stop by and see for himself that Mitchell is alive…or, well as undead as ever."
George saw a look exchanged between the two vampires, but didn't concern himself with it. Squabbles in Herrick's army had nothing to do with him…outside of their effect on Mitchell, of course.
The wolf in him was rattling inside desperate to get out and destroy the enemies who were hiding Mitchell from him. As stressed and tired as he was, the twenty-eight year old was sorely tempted to just let the wolf take over now; consequences be damned. He was just so utterly exhausted.
"Mitchell's in the third room on the left," Herrick told the younger man angling his head up the staircase. George needed no more than that and left the two vampires at the base of the stairs. The hallway at the top was dark, dank, and oddly fitting given the undead status of people who lived behind them. George's enchanced senses picked up the smells of dried blood, fresh blood, and death that permeated the hallway the further forward he moved. His ears could make out the sounds of sex from the fifth room on the right wall and death from the first room on the left wall. He ignored it all. His goal was so close now; nothing could stop him.
He reached Mitchell's door, but before he could even think of knocking, the door flew open and he was pulled inside. The hand around his wrist let go as soon as the door closed, but his brain took a second longer to catch up. Mitchell stood in front of him, eyes dark and angry, and George could not have been happier. Mitchell was okay, alive. With that knowledge George felt lighter than he had in forever. The wolf in his head even calmed down in settling quietly like a happy dog on a comfortable bed.
"What the hell are you doing, George?"
"I am here to see you."
Mitchell looked at him for a long moment and then shook his head in disbelief. It was one of the actions that Mitchell used when he really could not understand how George could be so desperately human.George had a similar one for when Mitchell tried to pretend he wasn't still human inside. Their relationship was all about given and take.
"You shouldn't have come here."
"I know." Mitchell sat down upon his bed at George's agreement and the other man took that as permission to move away from the door. He cast a quick glance about the room and didn't like what he found. The room was totally wrecked; papers, blankets, pillows, and books all over. George would be the first one to say that Mitchell was not the neatest person on the planet. This was a fact that had often sparked small arguments between them. The level of mess in the room wasn't like Mitchell at all. "What happened, Mitchell?" He did not specify; he did not need to.
The vampire deflated right before his very eyes and George automatically took a seat next to him. He sat in silence, offering his nonverbal support, and waited for his best friend to say something. He didn't have to wait long. "I….After Bernie…I couldn't handle it, George. I couldn't handle pretending anymore. I am not human, George."
The heartbreak and pain was etched on Mitchell's face and George just wanted to make that look go away. He had a right to be angry with Mitchell, the man just left him to worry without a word, but all George wanted to do was make Mitchell happy again. "Why didn't you come to us, Mitchell? Why didn't come to me?"
A short humorous laugh escaped Mitchell before immediately resulting in an even more intense frown. "I couldn't talk to you…either of you. I could risk dragging you down with me. You do so well. You are human, George, despite what happens to you. You aren't pretending; not like me. I feared what would have happened to you if I told you."
"Nothing would have happened to me, Mitchell."
The vampire turned on the bed to face him and George knew that the conversation that followed would change things. "You would have followed in my footsteps, George, because you don't know how not to do that."
"I am not just some pathetic puppy following you around. I'm perfectly capable of deciding my own fate." George protested, anger lacing his words a little as he spoke. How dare the elder man just assume George would follow him!
"That's just it, George. Fate has already decided your fate and mine as well. You would have followed me and I could not allow that. I could not allow you to become someone you aren't because of me."
Mitchell's words were mystifying. He and Mitchell had had a debate or two on the concept of fate and destiny. Mitchell had always said that he didn't believe in them; he had lived too long and seen too much to think that anything but choices affected people's lives. George, on the other hand, was a firm believer that fate or destiny played, at least a small part, in the path of people's lives. Now, Mitchell was proclaiming that the very thing he denied before was affecting the two of them like puppets on strings.
"I don't…You're not making any sense, Mitchell."
"No," Mitchell agreed, "I don't suppose that I am…to you." He sighed sadly and ran a hand through his long locks. George followed the familiar motion with his eyes. Despite suddenly feeling like he was in the Twilight Zone, George felt grounded because Mitchell was still Mitchell; no matter what happened or how very little sense he made. "Do you remember the time that Annie escorted you to the room?"
George nodded. Of course he remembered. It was the second month after they found the secret room in the basement. Annie was quiet around him for a week after and flat out refused to have anything at all to do with George's werewolf side again. He had tried to ask her about it; he was dying to know what happened that had frightened the ghost so much, but she was tightlipped on the subject.
"The wolf was clawing at the door. Scratching, tearing, trying to get out, trying to get free." George had always just assumed that the wolf acted that way every full moon. It was a wild animal and didn't really like being caged. The tone of Mitchell's voice was telling a different story, however, and George couldn't help being curious. The two of them had never really discussed what happened while he wasn't in charge of himself. The subject of the wolf had always been a touchy subject for George and Mitchell never pushed the issue because Mitchell understood. Mitchell always understood.
"It frightened Annie and she popped back into the apartment in tears. I could barely understand what she was saying and I had to see for myself. Annie went back to the hospital to make sure the wolf didn't escape while I drove there." Mitchell paused. Why had George never heard this story before? "I could hear the wolf from the first floor,"
"Could everyone hear it?" George's mind was in a panic. If anyone had come down to investigate it and Annie could not stop him or her….oh no. "Did I-Did I hurt someone?"
"No. The night staff and patients were none the wiser. Only I could hear it from the first floor."
George breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."
"I have stood guard over you before when the full moon rose and yes, the wolf was always a little violent, but not like this. This was…I wasn't surprised Annie was scared." George made a mental note to apologize to Annie when he returned home…and perhaps buy her yet another teakettle, just to make sure she knew that his apology was sincere.
"The closer I came to the room, the calmer and quieter the wolf became. By the time I was in front of the door, there was the occasionally sounds of scratching at the door and the slight scuffle of padded feet on a concrete floor."
George was suddenly aware that there was probably a building full of vampires listening in on this conversation. He wasn't sure exactly where this story was headed, but he was certain that it wasn't something the vampires should know. Judging by Mitchell's expression though, it was important that George know this story…eavesdroppers be damned.
"The wolf became agitated when I wasn't there and calmed when I was. I did some research and-" But George didn't need Mitchell to explain any further. He knew exactly what that meant. In fact, George felt somewhat stupid that he didn't figure it out earlier. The wolf had been pushing at its boundaries inside George all month desperate to be free of the cage that his human side presented. Then, when Mitchell was finally in reach again, all was calm inside the young hospital porter.
"You're my mate." It was easy; it was right. With that simple admission, George felt whole. He and the wolf were finally one and life made sense again. Mitchell, though, looked shattered; as if the admission, which finally put George back together, broke him into sharp breakable pieces of glass. George wondered how long had Mitchell been this broken and unhappy? Had it been just since he had come to this horrible place or was it before?
"The wolf…yes. It chose me, George; I couldn't stop it…"
George shook his head. "I chose you, Mitchell…and I don't regret it for a second."
The relief visibly flowed through Mitchell and George had to marvel at it. Mitchell and George had been bound together intrinsically since they had met and the wolf's mating instinct had very little to do with that. The two of them sat in silence for a few seconds enjoying the feeling of finally being on even ground with life.
Suddenly, Mitchell stood up from his bed and looked at George, worry not well concealed behind his eyes. "You need to leave, George,"
"What?"
Mitchell dragged his dresser and bed in front of his door. It wouldn't hold out for long but if George moved fast enough, he could escape. "George, you have to go. They're coming. Out the window."
For his credit, George didn't ask why or question Mitchell further. He simply followed instruction and started climbing out the window. He found it oddly convenient that there was a drainpipe so close to Mitchell's window, but didn't question his good fortunate. He started down the drainpipe, but before the room disappeared from his view completely, he had to ask, "Mitchell?"
"George, go." Mitchell urged as he used the desk and bed as leverage against the onslaught of vampires at his door. "I'll see you Friday, I promise." With that assurance still ringing in his mind George fled the funeral pallor as fast as his legs could carry him.
On the way home, George realized that he had been correct. The invitation had been a trap…just not for him. It was Herrick's way of discovering whether Mitchell was faithful his cause, which Mitchell obviously failed. George had no doubt that Herrick would be pissed about that, but George didn't worry. Mitchell had promised him, after all.
It was Friday that it happened. George was, quite literally, on his way out the door to go lock himself in the room when he felt it; a shooting pain that started in his heart and shot out to the rest of his body. For a split second, as he fell to his knees, half in and half out of the door, he thought that maybe the wolf was taking him over early. With the emotional toll the week had taken upon him, it would not have surprised him much. When the pain started to fade into a dull ache instead of a throbbing constant ache like the pain that usually accompanied his transformation, he realized.
This pain, it wasn't because of the wolf, though it did in part reside in the wolf side of him. This pain shattered his heart and soul, not his body. This pain was the pain of irrevocable loss. This was the pain of losing Mitchell to permanent death. The promise was broken.
He knew, logically, that someone could not feel the death of another, but he was and it fucking hurt. Hurt, not physically, but emotionally. George pushed the pain and sorrow away. There was a better outlet for it. The hospital porter ignored Annie as she tried to help him up and instead pulled himself back into a standing position.
"What happened, George?"
"Mitchell's dead." No infliction, no tone, nothing; George was functioning on the primal level. The wolf and he finally agreed on something; the persons responsible for Mitchell's death would die tonight as well…and without mercy.
He didn't spare Annie or the house a backwards glance as he left. She and it didn't matter now. Nothing did; nothing but justice.
The journey to Bedward's funeral pallor was a good deal quicker than it had been the first time. Of course, his unexpressed grief and the werewolf trying to force its way free could have altered George's estimation. His fingers and nails had turned into claws and his forearms had lengthened and become more werewolf-like. He ignored the growling in his head and the pain radiating through his body as he forced his way inside the vampire headquarters. This time there were no words spoken to Seth as he barged inside the close establishment, George just entered and dispatched of Seth. As Seth lay there, torn, broken, and dead at his feet George let the change overcome him. The coming battle wasn't his to fight…it's the wolf's. After that, George remembered nothing… until the next morning.
There was body parts, blood, gore, and terror in the room as he woke. George felt vindicated seeing the result of the wolf's work and was glad that he didn't remember doing it. Among all the carnage, though, George found him; George found Mitchell on the floor against the window, laid out straight, with a stake lodged where his heart was. It hurt George to see him so…gone. Until, last night he had never truly considered the idea that Mitchell could be gone. He was immortal; he would never be gone…except that he was and the stillness of his body and lack of utter Mitchell-ness was proof of that.
George pulled himself into a standing position despite the pain that laced through his every bone. His steps were slow and clumsy, but he managed to make his way over to Mitchell without any real problems. True, he had to step over and around random body parts, but he tried to ignore that. He didn't want to feel guilt about what he, the wolf was a part of him now he couldn't deny that any longer, had to do and he would feel something if he let himself look at or think about the events that unfolded the previous night. It wasn't until he knelt beside Mitchell that George knew something was wrong with him.
The pain that he felt before as he stood was amplified tenfold and forced him to lie down on the floor. His chest was burning and heavy, his stomach stung, and his back and legs felt like they were shredded. He didn't need to look down at his injuries to know that they were bad.
He had known this was coming almost from the first night that Mitchell didn't come home. As he lay beside the body of his best friend in the silent lair of the biggest vampire clan in Bristol, he found himself at peace. At least, he and Mitchell would never be apart again.