Title: A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away
Fandom/Pairing: Being Human, Mitchell/Annie, George/Nina, Owen/Annie
Rating: R
Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Warnings: Sex, violence, a few curses.
Short Summary: Pain. So much pain. It's all Mitchell can feel, all that exists for him now. His chest burns, as if a fire has erupted within it. He gasps for breath, his eyes flying open when he realizes that he actually needs it.
Notes: AU after The Wolf-Shaped Bullet. And when I say AU, I mean it's an alternate universe. Really.
Pain. So much pain. It's all Mitchell can feel, all that exists for him now. His chest burns, as if a fire has erupted within it. He gasps for breath, his eyes flying open when he realizes that he actually needs it.
Bright lights. Wherever he is, there are bright lights and loud, distorted sounds. Is this hell? His body rocks to the side and there are hands on him, pushing him back into place. He thrashes around, trying to get away and a warm hand is on his face, stroking it reassuringly.
This is hell, isn't it?
"Mr. Mitchell, you've been stabbed," a voice tells him.
Yes, he's aware. He's been staked and now he's dead.
"Mr. Mitchell, can you hear me?" the same voice asks.
He blinks, his vision blurred despite his efforts, but he's able to make out shapes through the blinding light. He tries to reach out, but the movement causes new pain to slam into him and he's out of breath.
There's more yelling and then oxygen, sweet oxygen is his once more. He breathes it in greedily, although he's confused and afraid.
He doesn't think this is hell.
"Mr. Mitchell, we're bringing you into surgery now. Don't worry, everything will be fine," the voice assures him.
He knows that voice. He can't place it, but he knows it.
There isn't time to think as he continues to breathe in and out deeply, and soon all Mitchell knows is darkness.
.
"Mitchell, can you hear me? Mitchell, come on, mate, you've got to wake up," a voice urges him. Someone is holding his hand. Presumably the same person that is begging him to awaken.
His eyelids feel heavy, but slowly, he opens them and although his vision is still blurry, he knows who's beside him.
"George," he rasps, too shocked to even begin thinking about how this is happening. Has George died as well? Devastation quickly works its way through him and Mitchell is breathing quickly, too quickly. The sound of machines beeping loudly fills the room and his vision finally clears.
He's in the hospital. He's in the hospital in his own room and there are wires and tubes and machines surrounding him.
And George is holding his hand.
And then Nina is running into the room and pushing George out of the way as she pokes and prods at Mitchell, giving him a serious look-over as she touches his face. "George, you need to keep him calm, not rile him up," she says sternly and frowns. "You'll be fine, Mitchell," she adds and gives him a tight smile. "Let's check on your stitches, hmm?"
"Stitches?" he repeats.
"You're lucky to be alive," George says, his voice cracking with emotion.
"George, sweetheart, it would be best if you left. I need to check him over and it may take a while," Nina explains. With a nod, George stands and walks out of the hospital room and Mitchell is left with Nina.
He doesn't understand any of this. What is happening? Is this real? Is this a punishment that he hasn't figured out yet? He winces as Nina touches his chest and she apologizes, and then moves away to the other side of the room.
It's then that he looks down and sees his bandaged covered chest. The bandages are stained red, obviously with blood, and he begins to panic. Did George miss? Is this why he's in the hospital again like years ago when Herrick staked him?
"Let's change those bandages," Nina says positively and begins to do so without another word. He watches, eyes trained on his chest as layer after layer of gauze is removed and soon he sees the wound and the stitches and the blood and the room begins to spin.
Darkness greets him once more and he goes willingly.
.
When he awakens, George is at his side again. His friend grins and pats his leg. "Hello, sleeping beauty," he laughs.
"George," Mitchell rasps. "George, what happened? I don't… understand."
George takes a very deep breath in and lets it out very slowly, as if he's stalling. Then, he places his hands on his lap and all playfulness disappears from his expression. "We were out at a pub four days ago. Nina called, she needed me, and I said I'd come and help her. You insisted… told me I should go be a knight in shining armor and I stupidly agreed because I'm an idiot." He pauses then and Mitchell is glad because everything George has just said is complete and utter insanity.
"I got a call a few hours later. They told me you'd been mugged and stabbed…" George pauses again and is seemingly overcome with emotion. Mitchell sees regret upon his friend's face and wants to comfort him, but he still doesn't understand. None of this happened. None of this has ever happened… why is George lying?"
"It was touch and go for a while, but you're in the clear now," George says, perking up once again. "You're going to be all right, Mitchell. Don't worry, Nina and I will take care of you," he promises. "You'll be back to yourself in no time."
Mitchell says nothing for a quite some time. He thinks he understands now. This is purgatory. This must be some kind of punishment.. a way to torture him. They're trying to make him think he's alive, that he's still with his loved ones and that they don't despise him. They're geniuses, really.
That loud beeping from before reappears and he looks over, eyeing the machine beside him. "How'd you get that to work?" he asks, following the lines of his obviously false heartbeat.
George is furrowing his brows together when Mitchell looks over at him. "Mitchell, we didn't do anything," he says slowly. "The monitor is functioning as it should. Would you rather it not work at all?"
Frustration begins to spread throughout him and Mitchell clenches his jaw. "Will you quit fucking around!" he exclaims. "This isn't real. You're not real. None of this is!"
"Mitchell…" George begins, reaching out for him. Mitchell pushes his hand away and attempts to sit up, but pain slashes through his chest and he cries out, falling back onto the bed.
"Fuck! Mitchell, you need to be more careful!" George yells and stands, running a hand through his hair. He looks frazzled and Mitchell is suddenly beginning to think that perhaps this isn't what he thought. Though his chest hurts, he places his hand upon it and feels something thumping. There's blood, he can smell it, but he presses his palm down harder and the thumping continues.
His heart is beating.
He marvels at the sensation of it.
"George," he whispers, forcing himself to look up at his concerned friend. "George, is this real? Are we real? How…"
George shakes his head and is at Mitchell's side once more. Just as he always has been. "Mitchell, you're alive. That's all that matters," he says.
"Annie," Mitchell rasps. "George, where is Annie? Where is she? I need to see her!"
George blinks. "Annie?"
Mitchell huffs, feeling frustrated again. "Yes, Annie," he answers. "Where is she?"
"Mitchell… I don't know an Annie," George tells him slowly.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Mitchell asks incredulously. "Don't fuck around with me right now," he warns.
"Mitchell, I'm not," George says. "Did you meet her at the pub?"
He's panicking. This is real. He knows it is. He can tell by how fast his heart is pounding against his aching chest. He's alive. He is alive and Annie isn't here. Does she even exist? Was she a dream?
"George, I don't feel right," Mitchell murmurs and closes his eyes. "Get a… get a nurse."
.
They're in Bristol. There's no Honolulu Heights to go home to and he's glad because it's never felt like home. Bristol is home. That pink house is home. They don't live in that pink house, though. George drives them back to their modest flat and the walls are white and his bedroom is painted blue and his comforter is red. His bed is comfortable, but this place… it's strange to think it is home even though George continues to insist they've lived here for over a year.
Then there's the being human issue that he's still trying to deal with. The fact that he lives and breathes and actually needs food to survive astounds him. He spends countless hours with his hand pressed to his chest, feeling his heart beating blood through his veins. This is real. He knows it. He doesn't wish it, he knows. He doesn't understand how, but he just knows.
He is human. He is flesh and blood and fragile to violence that doesn't require a stake to the chest. And now he's here, living in this flat with George and there's no Annie around to comfort him, to make him tea, and to love him. Mitchell refuses to give up. He knows she is real, and he knows she is in Bristol. He can feel it.
And he will not rest until he finds her.
.
It takes some time and excessive hovering, poking and prodding from George and at times Nina, but he finally begins to feel healthy and the pain in his chest lessens until it's nearly non-existent. He's still forced to visit with his doctor every two weeks, but he feels good, he actually feels good and that's all that matters.
Now that he's able to, he takes walks every day, taking in the familiar sights. Most of the time the walks are devoted to looking out for Annie. He knows that he'll see her one day, he just knows it. He refuses to give up until she's in his sight and in his arms. Determination is something he hasn't lost in his human life.
That determination guides him to this moment while he's sitting down at an outdoor café, sipping hot tea as he watches the people passing by. There's a flash of familiar curly hair at the corner of his eye and he turns quickly, spilling his tea. He curses and wipes at his pants, but quickly gives up and throws money down on the table.
He walks swiftly, trying to spot her, but he can't. He's sure it was her. He is absolutely positive about that. And now he's left with tea covered pants as he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks slowly away, keeping his head down as he allows himself to be disappointed.
He should know better.
A body crashes into his and his hands immediately reach out, trying to steady them but it's useless as they fall down onto the hard pavement. He brushes the hair out of his eyes and looks up, intent on apologizing but the words disappear as he focuses on the vision before him.
Annie.
"Annie," he whispers.
She's the same. She's as beautiful as she was the last time he saw her and she's wearing green. It's a shock to see her in anything but grey and she's frowning down at him as she rubs her elbow.
He swallows. "I'm sorry," he blurts out. "I wasn't paying attention."
"Obviously," she snaps and then sighs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you…"
He's grinning then. It's just like Annie to apologize even when she has a right to be frustrated and annoyed. She's too kind, too generous, and too good for him.
Blinking, he shakes his head, gets his wits about him and stands, offering her his hand, which she accepts. Her skin is warm. She's alive and so is he and the sensation of her hand in his is overwhelming to the point where he feels a bit dizzy.
They stand there and Mitchell realizes that he's still holding her hand. After he's cleared his throat, he unwillingly lets his hand pull from hers and cards it through his hair. What is he supposed to say to her? It's obvious that she doesn't know him, and that hurts.
"I'm sorry," he says again.
She laughs then and shrugs, then smoothes out her shirt. His eyes follow the movement and he notices that she's wearing a skirt and he can see her legs. It's a welcome sight. Her boots are gone as well, replaced with a practical pair of simple black flats.
Mitchell is out of his element.
Annie is here, she's in different clothes and she's living and breathing and she doesn't know him at all.
His chest hurts in a different way.
"It's fine, really," she insists, smiling at him. Is he flush? He feels flush. They stand there, across from each other for what feels like hours. She breaks the awkward silence.
"So, thanks for not injuring me," she says lightly. "I've really got to go. So, err, nice meeting you…"
"Mitchell," he says. "John Mitchell."
She smiles a bit more and tilts her head to the side as she studies him. "Nice meeting you, John Mitchell," she finishes and turns, beginning to walk away.
"Wait!" he exclaims. She stops and looks back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Your name. It's only fair you give me your name."
"Annie," she tells him and is walking away once more. He doesn't stop her.
His heart is racing and his palms are sweaty and he feels so very human in this moment.
He loves it.
.
He memorizes the route she walks every day. He knows it's a bit creepy and that he may seem like a stalker, but this is the only way he can see her and eventually bump into her again. Despite not being a vampire, he still retains many of their ways and tracking is one of them. In a way Annie is his prey and he wants to catch her.
So maybe he's being completely creepy. He can't help it. He can't think of another way and this plan of his is working out well. He is able to see Annie five days a week and each day she's more beautiful than the previous. Seeing her in different shades of color in thrilling. She's so vibrant, so full of life that he actually aches for her.
She doesn't know who he is and he falls more in love with her as each day passes.
Even as a human, he can't escape a tragic existence.
.
There are nights when Mitchell lies awake, trying to understand how this happened. He's unable to sleep, not when his mind is so full of things he can't begin to figure out.
Does he want to know?
A part of him does. A much bigger part doesn't. That part of him doesn't care about how or why, just that it is.
This is the second chance he's wished for countless times. He's not about to take it for granted.
.
The next time she runs into him she's wearing deep purple and her hair is swept back from her face. He's caught by surprise because he actually hasn't followed her this time. It happens all on its own while he's browsing the aisles of the small market. She spots him first and smiles before waving at him.
He swallows. After he's swallowed and that action has helped nothing, he nods at her and hopes beyond hope that he doesn't look at nervous as he feels, because he's nearly nauseous from those nerves now.
Relief washes over him when it's Annie who walks over. "Hello," she greets him happily.
"Annie," he says.
She laughs. "John."
"I'd rather you call me Mitchell," he says. "No one calls me John."
"Oh, well then, hello, Mitchell," she says and laughs again. "How are you?"
"Fine, fine," he answers. Are they making small talk? He doesn't think he's ever made small talk with Annie. This is so… strange. "How are you?"
"Fine, thank you," she says. There's an awkward silence that lasts longer than he'd like, but then Annie makes the first move again.
"Would you like to get some lunch?"
He wonders if he's heard her right. When she gives him an expectant look, he realizes he has and then he's laughing nervously and carding his hand through his hair. "Um, yeah, I'd like that," he finally answers.
She's smiling even more. "Great! There's just… I'd like to talk to you."
He holds his breath.
And then loudly exhales it through his mouth.
"Right," she says, raising an eyebrow. "So… shall we?"
He nods and makes sure to hold the door open for her when they exit the market. He still has a few chivalrous traits left.
Annie leads them to the same outdoor café where he first spotted her. Once they're sitting down comfortably, they're silent until she orders a tea. God, he misses her tea so much. He misses her more, but she's here, healthy and alive and he has to force himself to think positively. It's just hard when he's constantly thinking of a before she has no idea about.
"Mitchell," she says after she's ordered. "I… this is going to sound completely crazy…" she trails off.
His interest is piqued then and he stares right at her. "What?" he asks a little too severely.
His tone doesn't seem to bother her in the least and she even laughs. "It's just, well," she begins again. "I feel as if I know you," she finally tells him. And then she bursts into a fit of giggles.
He watches her, not really sure of how to react.
"I'm sorry," she gasps through her laughter. "I'm completely serious! But I heard myself say it and it's ridiculous!" When he still doesn't answer her, she sobers and looks him in the eye. "Do you think I'm insane?"
"No," he immediately answers.
She seems to visibly relax then.
He's pleased that she has such a reaction to him.
"Mitchell," she says again. "I believe that everything happens for a reason. I always have. And I think that maybe we were meant to run into each other." She pauses and pushes back a curl that has escaped from her braid. "Have I scared you off yet?"
He chuckles, shaking his head. "It takes a lot more to scare me, Annie."
When she smiles this time, it's softer, and his chest tightens because he's seen her look like that so many times.
"Would you like to have lunch with me again tomorrow?" she asks hopefully.
He wants to have lunch with her for the rest of his life.
"I'd like that," he says, surprised that he's able to contain his happiness from bursting out of him.
.
"You seem chipper," George says, pushing his glasses up his nose as he studies Mitchell suspiciously. "Have you been taking more pain medication again? You know that could cause serious problems, Mitchell! As if you need more…"
Mitchell laughs, which only seems to raise his friend's suspicions. Sighing, he decides to stop this before George becomes completely irate. "George, mate, I swear my chipper state has nothing to do with prescription drugs," he says.
George visibly deflates then and rubs his forehead. "Oh thank God," he says. "I was about to call Nina and have her come over and yell at you. You know how terrifying she can be."
"Yes, I do," Mitchell agrees.
They sit beside each other in silence for a moment, and then George punches Mitchell's knee.
"Ow!" he exclaims, rubbing the spot George has harmed. "I was stabbed, you know!"
"Not there," George snaps. "Now what the hell is going on?"
Still rubbing the spot, Mitchell scowls, but finally relents. "I found her," he says.
George blinks. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"
"I found Annie," Mitchell clarifies.
"Again, what?"
Huffing in frustration, Mitchell punches George's knee.
"Ow!"
"It's deserved," Mitchell says. "Anyway. Annie. The… girl I was asking about? I found her."
George is now rubbing his own knee and scowling at Mitchell, but he stops to nod. "Ah, yes, Annie. I honestly thought you were making her up."
"Well I wasn't," Mitchell mutters.
George's eyes narrow. "I'll believe it when I see this girl with my own eyes."
"Four eyes," Mitchell says under his breath.
George yelps in offense and punches Mitchell's knee again.
.
George and Nina drag Mitchell out to a party, telling him that he's in desperate need to get out and mingle. Mitchell disagrees, but finds it difficult to win the battle when the sides are uneven. So he begrudgingly joins the couple as they head off to a party one of Nina's friends is throwing.
"You could try and smile," George mutters as they head toward the food.
"I could, but I won't," Mitchell says.
As George shakes his head in disapproval, Mitchell shoves as much food as he can onto his minuscule paper plate and looks for a place to sit so he can eat in peace. George waves him over to an empty sofa and soon they're both sitting and happily eating.
Mouth full of food, Mitchell looks around and spots her.
Annie is across the room, smiling and laughing loudly as something the female host of the party is saying. He nearly drops his plate in shock. This has to be more than a coincidence. Annie is here, and he didn't plan it at all!
So of course he looks like an absolute buffoon when she spots him and walks over to say hello. George elbows him and Mitchell nearly spits out the food he's forgotten to swallow, which he immediately does before he abruptly stands.
"Annie," he says breathlessly. "Annie, hello!"
"Mitchell," she says pleasantly. "I had no idea you knew James and Emily!"
"He doesn't," George says, making his presence known then. Holding out his hand, Annie takes it. "I'm George, and you must be Annie."
She nods.
"Mitchell has been talking about you for ages."
"Has he?" she asks and looks at Mitchell quizzically.
Mitchell would punch George right now if it wasn't socially unacceptable and Annie wasn't standing right here.
"Are you here alone?" Mitchell asks, needing to change the subject and also curious about the answer.
"Oh, no… I'm with—"
"Babe, there you are!" a voice that Mitchell knows too well interrupts.
The blood drains from his face as a nightmare unfolds before him. And as that nightmare wraps its arm around Annie's shoulders, Mitchell has to suppress the urge to lunge forward and rip that arm off.
"Owen," Annie laughs and then kisses his cheek. "I was just chatting up some friends."
Owen's dark eyes study George before they land on Mitchell with obvious distaste. "They're friends of yours?" he asks Annie slowly.
"Yes," she answers, looking a bit worried which bothers Mitchell immensely.
"Funny, you never mentioned them," he continues just as slowly.
"We just met," George offers. "Well, I just met Annie," he clarifies. "Mitchell and Annie met before today."
"Weeks ago, actually," Annie confirms.
"Isn't that nice," Owen says, his voice sounding the complete opposite.
"Nice to meet you, Owen," Mitchell forces himself to say as pleasantly as he can while he fights his homicidal urges which are surprisingly strong even as a human.
"It was nice to see you, Mitchell. And it was nice meeting you, George," Annie says softly and allows Owen to lead her away.
"What an ass," George murmurs once the couple is out of earshot.
"Yeah," Mitchell agrees faintly.
He didn't see this coming. And he doesn't know what to think or what to do.
So he decides on the easier solution; he gets pissed.
.
"I'm sorry about Owen," Annie sighs, wringing her hands together as she avoids eye contact. "He's normally very nice. He was having a bad day…"
As she trails off, Mitchell is filled with dread. The fact that Annie is with Owen turns his stomach, but the fact that she is with him and making excuses for his behavior is heartbreaking. Owen must be the same here. All charm until he's alone and then what's under the surface comes to light. He's a monster, a killer, and Mitchell is almost positive that Owen is exactly the same in this world as well.
And that makes him want to grab Annie and make a run for it before Owen can harm her.
If he hasn't already.
That thought makes him feel a million times worse and he clenches his jaw in fury.
"Mitchell," she says softly. "Please don't be upset."
"I'm not," he tells her. After he's said it, she finally looks up and he wonders if she can see how much he feels for her in his eyes alone. If she does, she says nothing. He doubts it, though.
"I've really enjoyed getting to know you this past month and I'd hate it if you… didn't want to be my friend anymore."
How many times can his heart break? He's sure it's been broken about five times in the half hour they've been sitting in this café.
"Annie," he sighs, and has to stop himself from calling her darling. "I don't want to stop being friends with you. And your boyfriend being a bit rude isn't going to make that happen."
"He's actually my fiancé," she whispers.
"Oh, well… that doesn't change anything either," he says, although it's the complete opposite in his head right now. This changes everything. His determination to get Owen out of the picture has grown and he will not rest until he is triumphant.
.
There are a handful of changes he notices in Annie here that make it obvious that she's not the same Annie he fell in love with. Of course the biggest change is that she's alive, and there are times when Mitchell finds it difficult to be around her because he misses his Annie. Thinking about it too much makes everything more complicated so he tries not to.
It does get easier as the days go by, though. The more time he spends with Annie, the more infatuated he becomes with her. She's bursting with life, so much that his heart beats as fast as a hummingbird whenever he's around her. How can she not see the effects she has on him? Or does she see and chooses to ignore them? He doesn't know what she's thinking, which is very difficult when he was so in tune with his Annie.
It's a hurdle he'll have to jump over because he won't let anything get in the way of this.
They're together now, strolling down a busy street, arm in arm and Mitchell is far too giddy for his own good. He hasn't laughed this much in so long and the fact that he's with Annie and she's causing this makes him appreciate it so much more.
The sparkle of her engagement ring is an immediate way to end his good mood, but he tries to get past the dark feelings that begin to brew within him. Annie must sense his change in mood as she stops walking and looks at him questioningly.
"Is everything all right?" she asks, clearly concerned.
He takes a deep breath. It doesn't help. "Do you know that we met (again) nearly four months ago?"
She smiles. "Of course I do. How could I forget crashing into you and scratching up my poor elbow?"
He smiles a little. "Sorry," he says, though it's very obvious he's not as sorry as she should be. And it must be obvious to Annie as well because she elbows him in the side and huffs in what he's sure is feigned offense. She steps away from him soon after and he suddenly thinks he's misread her emotions and is about to apologize and actually mean it, but then Annie's arms are circling his neck and she's embracing him so strongly that the breath is nearly knocked out of him.
"I'm really glad I met you," she murmurs against his neck. The sensation of her warm breath against his skin makes him shiver.
Hesitantly, because he's not sure if he can trust himself when they're this close, Mitchell wraps his arms around her waist and returns the embrace. "The feeling's mutual," he murmurs back. That feeling and so many more.
She pulls back then and laughs. "I'm being silly, but it's just that… I've never had a friend like you before, Mitchell. You mean a lot to me and it's a bit scary considering we haven't known each other that long."
"Feels like years," he says lightly.
"It does," she agrees.
He's surprised she hasn't asked him to let her go yet. They stare at each other for a moment and he wants to kiss her so badly but he knows he can't. That reality is enough to force him to finally allow his arms to fall from her waist as he takes a step back, creating needed space between them.
She holds her hand out a second later though and he laughs, but takes it.
They must look like a couple as they begin to walk down the street again. Mitchell recalls countless walks he's taken with her before, and how they were a bright light in the darkness his life was back then. Annie's his shining light here as well, and he never wants to let her hand go again.
There's a point when he has to, though, and does so unwillingly. They stand before the nursery school that Annie is employed with and she smiles prettily at him while he leans against the dark, rusty bricks of the building.
"Do you really enjoy working here?" he asks, honestly interested in knowing that and everything else about her.
"Yes, very much so," she answers. "I love children so much and since Owen doesn't really want any…" she trails off, the brightness leaving her expression.
"He doesn't want children with you?" he asks, very surprised. How could anyone not want to have children with Annie? She's so perfect and loving and made for motherhood. The fact that Owen wants to deny her that infuriates him. And the fact that he suddenly realizes how much he wants that with her terrifies him.
"Not just me, with anyone. Owen isn't the fatherly type. It isn't his fault, he had an awful childhood and his father wasn't very kind," she says defensively.
"But you want children, Annie. Why are you settling?" he finally asks, feeling a weight lifted from his shoulders.
She looks at him with anger for the first time since they've become friends. "I love Owen, Mitchell," she insists. "I love him and I want to be with him for the rest of my life. If you can't support that—"
"Support you settling for someone who doesn't deserve you?" he interrupts loudly. "I'd be insane to!"
She backs away, crossing her arms. "Where is this coming from? How long have you felt this way?"
"Annie, how can you do this? You must know he's no good."
She frowns and shakes her head. "You don't know him! You have no idea what Owen is like!" she yells. "He loves me, Mitchell. He wants to be with me forever, he wants me as his wife. Who are you to judge him?"
"I'm your friend!"
"Then trust me," she snaps. "If you're my friend, and you care, you'll trust that I can make my own decisions!"
It's then, when he really looks at her, that he notices she's crying. He moves forward, reaching out, but she backs away and shakes her head.
"Just go," she whispers.
"Annie—"
"Just go, Mitchell!" she yells and turns, rushing through the entrance, running away from him.
His chest is burning. His head is aching. And he's desperately in need of a cigarette.