George's normal reaction to a surprise knock on the door was to ignore it. His only friends had no need to knock, as they lived there, and anyone else should have the common courtesy to call first. He ignored the first knock, and the second, and would have ignored the third if he didn't hear Mitchell running for the steps.
"George!" Mitchell hollered, "Get it!"
George got up from the sofa. "Well," he muttered, "There goes pretending no one's home." He got to the door at the same time as Mitchell, who gave him a look before opening the door.
Two large men stood outside. "Gotta delivery for John Peters," one of them said.
George sighed. "Sorry, wrong house -"
"That's me," Mitchell said, taking the clipboard out of the man's hand. "Can you bring it upstairs?"
Both men shrugged.
Mitchell reached into his pocket and pulled out two ten-pound notes. "I'd really appreciate it," he said, handing one to each of them.
The larger man nodded to the slightly less large man, and they lifted the large parcel and headed inside. Mitchell took the stairs in front of them, guiding their way.
"What is this?" George asked.
"It's a delivery," Mitchell called back. "This room here," he said to the deliverymen.
George followed up the stairs, confused. "A delivery of what?"
The men dropped the parcel in a spare bedroom with a thud.
"Thanks, mate," Mitchell said, slapping one of the men on the back as he handed him another note. "You have a good one, OK?"
George stepped into the room as the men walked out.
"What is it?"
"Give me your knife," Mitchell said.
"My knife? I don't carry a knife. Do you carry a knife?"
Mitchell looked at him. "Why would I carry a knife?" He shook his head and started pulling off the plastic wrapping by hand. After a couple of minutes, he'd removed all of it.
George blinked. "A chair."
Mitchell nodded, admiring it. "Yeah."
"You bought a sofa chair for a spare room. In a furnished house"
Mitchell frowned. "It's not a spare room, George. This is Annie's room."
"Oh, Mitchell…"
"I think it's nicer than the other one. I thought about trying to find the same chair, but then I thought -"
"Mitchell."
"What?"
George paused. "Why did you buy Annie a chair?"
Mitchell gave him a confused look. "She needs a chair in her room. We left the other one." He walked over to the window, the sill strewn with portable radios, and touched the drapes. "See, what's great about this chair is that it doesn't clash with anything -"
"Where did those come from?" George asked, nodding toward the drapes.
"I bought them."
"You. Bought drapery?"
"Yeah. I know what you're thinking, George, Annie is much better at this kind of thing than I am, but I don't want her to come home to a room that doesn't fit her. I'm worried that she'll have a hard time with the move. And I don't want her feeling like this isn't where she belongs." He sat on the edge of the window sill.
"That's not… that's not what I was thinking, Mitchell," George said. "Look, I want Annie to come home, too…"
Mitchell nodded.
"But she's not."
Mitchell's expression didn't change. "But she is."
"No, Mitchell, she isn't. You have to accept that Annie is …" George paused. "Annie isn't coming back - she's gone, Mitchell."
"We talked about this," Mitchell said. "All I need is a door -"
"No."
"-and I can go get her. What do you mean 'no'?"
"What you're talking about isn't saving Annie, Mitchell. You're talking about suicide."
Mitchell thought for a moment. "I'm not saying it's not dangerous -"
"Dangerous? You're talking about walking through death's door -"
"Well, what other way is there?"
"You're willing to die for her?"
"Of course I am. Aren't you?"
George was taken aback. "I… no. No, I'm not. I have Nina to think about -"
"Well, I don't have a Nina."
"People die, Mitchell," George said, his voice rising. "They pass on. It sucks, and it hurts, but you have to accept it and keep going."
"Oh, right," Mitchell said. "I'm being schooled on death by a werewolf. You're not even dead, George."
"I'm not helping you kill yourself." George turned to leave.
Mitchell stood up. "If you won't help me find a door at the hospital, I'll have to kill someone."
George spun around. "Is that a threat?"
"No, it's a fact." Mitchell paused.
"Annie would never forgive you if you did that."
"I've done a lot of things Annie would never forgive me for. If it meant getting her out of that place - she doesn't belong there, and you know it. If it meant that, I don't care."
"I would never forgive you."
"Then help me, George. Help me. Help Annie."
George stood for a moment. "Don't manipulate me."
"It's not manipulation, George, it's telling you what -"
"It is absolutely, one hundred percent manipulation." George shook his head. "Leave me out of whatever it is you're going to do. I never would have removed her from that house if it wasn't for you. The way you were acting toward her, Mitchell. You can't treat her like she's one of your … your -"
"You know I wasn't going to hurt her."
"I didn't know," George said. "Annie was abused, Mitchell. She was murdered. You promised to protect her, and you came at her like she was a piece of meat."
Mitchell sat down in the chair in silence. "How can you even say that?"
"Because I was there. God, Mitchell, Annie gave up her proper door for you, and you ignored her."
"'I never ignored her."
"She was lonely. She missed you. I had other things going on in my life, and I still found time for her."
"I found time for her."
"You didn't. Did you even know that she communicated with her mother? Were you there for her when that happened?"
Mitchell blinked. "When did that happen?"
"If you had paid more attention to her, you'd know. You want to be there for her now, but you don't get that it's too late. I loved her too, Mitchell, but -"
"Don't," Mitchell said. "Don't talk about her in the past tense."
"She's always been past tense. She was always going to leave us. Ghosts aren't meant to stay here forever."
"She wasn't meant to go like that. Cast out like some kind of demon…"
"She was ready to go."
"No," Mitchell said. "She didn't want to go. She was forced through that door. And she was so scared. She's still so scared. Don't you feel how scared she is?"
George paused. "No. And, to be honest, I think you're projecting. Either that, or you've gone completely delusional."
"What?"
"You look delusional. Setting up a room for her, Mitchell?"
Mitchell looked down at the chair. "She's coming back."
"She's really not. You have to work through that. Without killing anybody"
Mitchell sat in silence for a few moments. "You don't understand."
"Yes, I do."
"This is the only thing keeping me together. If I didn't have this to focus on… getting Annie back, this room… there would be no hope. All I can see is blood and death and rage…"
"I'll help you keep yourself together."
Mitchell looked at him. "Then please just help me get her back."