Disclaimer: I do not own Being Human. It belongs to Toby Whithouse.
The Land of the Living
"Well, I'll be fine. I think it's time for you to leave." Her voice had an edge to it that Mitchell had never heard before.
He stood and brushed imaginary lint off of his red t-shirt before moving to the door, regret bubbling up inside of him. "Goodnight, Annie. Sleep well."
She had already pulled the covers up to her chin and turned on her side with her back to the door.
Mitchell bit back a sigh and left.
Chapter 4
Mitchell tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep. He couldn't get Annie out of his mind. She would be going home soon, back to Owen. He stared up at the ceiling in the darkness and wiggled his toes absently beneath the sheets. Maybe he could try talking to Annie one last time before she went home. Whether she wanted to hear it or not, he was only doing it because he cared about her and didn't want her hurt. Certainly, she could understand that.
Mitchell rolled over on his side and hoped that sleep would come, but he could not settle. He shifted onto his back and then his other side before he groaned in frustration and sat up, switching on the lamp on the bedside table.
He ran a hand over his face and through his brunette curls before reaching for his iPod and tucking the ear buds into his ears. He tapped out the beat of the music with his fingers on the mattress next to him and tried to lose himself in his favorite songs.
Mitchell must have drifted off at some point, but he woke to George shaking his shoulder.
"Wake up, Mitchell," the sandy-haired man grunted. "I knocked on the door, but you didn't hear me. Don't you have a shift this morning?"
Mitchell blinked sleepily and tugged the ear buds out of his ears. "Wha-what time is it?" he asked groggily, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Half past seven," George replied.
"Thanks, George!" Mitchell scrambled to get out of bed. He was going to be late for work. Dropping his iPod amongst the sheets, he struggled into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before grabbing his black leather jacket and taking the steps two at a time.
He made it to work with two minutes to spare. He quickly changed into his scrubs and hurried upstairs. There was no time to check on Annie now; he would have to visit her after his shift.
She was on his mind all night; he couldn't stop thinking of her. He wheeled several patients from the emergency room down the hall for x-rays. He carried fresh linens between floors, and then scrubbed up a coffee spill in one of the waiting rooms. It was a busy shift, and he never even got to take a break for a cup of coffee.
By the time he made it to Annie's room, he was exhausted, but still determined to speak with her. Mitchell was a bit wary; he knew Annie had not been happy with him yesterday. He poked his head around the door frame and hoped Owen was still at work. Getting Owen to leave the room so he could speak with Annie would be downright impossible.
The bed was empty. Mitchell stepped into the doorway and groaned. She was gone; Annie had already been discharged. He was too late.
"Hey, Mitchell," one of the nurses called as she walked by.
He recognized her. "Lisa, when did Ms. Sawyer leave?"
Lisa turned and thought for a moment. "Oh, about two hours ago. Her fiancé picked her up. He seems like such a sweet man, doting all over her and such."
"More like feeling guilty for hurting her," Mitchell grumbled under his breath.
"What's that?" Lisa asked.
"Oh, nothing," Mitchell responded, cursing himself for oversleeping this morning.
He was in a foul mood by the time he slammed the door of the pink house he shared with George and Nina.
"What's up?" George asked as Mitchell entered the kitchen.
The smell of frying meat assaulted Mitchell and made him feel nauseous. He was worried about Annie. He knew it was only a matter of time before Owen hurt her again; he was certain that the man was abusing her.
"George, can you check the meat?" Nina asked from her place by the sink. "It needs to be turned."
"Sure," George replied as he moved to the stove and flipped their dinner over in the pan so it didn't burn. "You okay, Mitchell?" he asked as he stared at his friend.
Mitchell sank into a chair at the kitchen table. "Annie was discharged from the hospital today," he admitted, resting his head in his hands. A headache was throbbing behind his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose with a grunt.
"That's good, isn't it?" Nina asked in confusion as she carried a stack of plates and silverware to the table.
George frowned as he studied Mitchell's face. "Do you still think her fiancé is hurting her?" he asked with concern.
"Oh, yeah," Mitchell readily admitted. "She could have died this time. What will it be next time and how long will she continue to make excuses for him?" He suddenly found anger bubbling up within him and he bit his bottom lip.
Nina sighed. "We don't have any proof, Mitchell," she pointed out. "Maybe Annie really is a klutz."
He shook his head. "No one who moves as gracefully as Annie does is such a klutz," he pointed out. "Besides, she doesn't even remember what happened. And don't forget, I've met her fiancé. He's a jerk!"
Nina just shrugged. "Maybe he thought you were encroaching on his territory."
"Nina, I didn't even know Annie then! I was just doing my job and the guy insulted me and embarrassed her."
"Look," George cut in as he tried to diffuse the tension that was building in the kitchen, "didn't you say Annie and her fiancé live close by?" He waited until Mitchell nodded. "Then maybe you will see her around and be able to keep tabs on her."
Mitchell threw his hands up in exasperation. "How do I do that without looking like I'm stalking her?"
"Well, didn't you see her at the market once before?" George asked.
Nina smiled. "Well, I do need you to pick up a few things at the market tomorrow if you don't mind. Maybe you will see Annie there."
Mitchell leaned back in his chair, frustration threatening to choke him. "Maybe," he sighed. Seeing her at the market wasn't really going to solve any problems, although perhaps it would assure him that she was at least still alive and breathing.
The next morning, Mitchell dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt before tugging on his leather jacket and picking up the string back Nina had left hanging on a kitchen chair. He grabbed the shopping list off the table and stuffed it into his pocket. His mind was not really on the shopping, but Nina would have his head if he didn't return with the vegetables she needed for dinner.
Remembering his last trip to the market vendors with Annie, Mitchell carefully picked over the green beans Nina had requested until he had enough. He paid for them and moved on to the next stall, all the while casting his eyes around for a glimpse of Annie. So far, he had not seen her. Perhaps her head was still bothering her and she had stayed home today. He hoped she was getting the rest she needed.
Mitchell had nearly finished his shopping when he turned and his breath caught in his throat. There, at the stall behind him, was Annie. She looked pale and withdrawn. Owen stood next to her, his hand clenching her arm.
Annie looked up and her eyes widened when she caught sight of Mitchell. He grinned and waved, but she glanced over at Owen and pretended not to see him.
It all made sense of course, Mitchell thought. Annie knew Owen would be angered if he saw her speak to him He didn't want to be the cause of Owen hurting her once again. Swallowing his anger and worry, Mitchell turned his back on Annie and finished purchasing Nina's requested vegetables. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life.
Mitchell did his best to put Annie out of his mind after that. He knew that even his friendship could cause her problems. Worry still plagued him, especially at night when the house was dark and quiet. He had trouble sleeping and when he did sleep it was riddled with nightmares of Annie tumbling down the stairs and cracking her head on the tiles at the bottom. He would wake covered in a sheen of sweat, breathing heavily, and there would be no more sleep for him that night.
If anyone had asked Mitchell why this woman had embedded herself in his heart so deeply, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to explain it. He only knew that he cared for Annie more than he'd ever cared for any woman. The very thought scared the living daylights out of him.
The days turned into a week and then a month. Mitchell had managed to avoid any more trips to the market, but Annie still invaded his thoughts. Every night at work his eyes scanned the patients in the emergency room, looking for a caramel-skinned, curly-haired beauty with sad doe-brown eyes. Each night he was relieved when she was not there.
A month-Owen had been able to keep his word for a month, but now she was afraid. It had been Owen who had shoved her down the stairs; she hadn't tripped and fallen as he'd let her believe all this time. He'd screamed the truth at her tonight when he'd accused her of cheating on him. Then he'd slapped her in the face, twisted her wrist until she had cried out, and thrown her against the kitchen table. A sob caught in Annie's throat as she stumbled down the uneven sidewalk. Her cheek throbbed, her side ached, and she wondered if her wrist was sprained or broken. She didn't know where to go and she'd left the house without her phone or her wallet. Wiping away tears, she pulled herself together and sucked in a deep breath.
"Think, Annie," she told herself. She could not go to her parents. She didn't want to hear them say I told you so. Her friends had long since abandoned her; Owen had made sure to monopolize her time. Where could she go?
Mitchell. She could to go Mitchell. Would he want to see her? He had tried to tell her about Owen, but she hadn't wanted to listen. Annie forced her feet to carry her forward. She would go to the hospital. If Mitchell wouldn't help her, then she would use the phone there to call her parents as a last resort.
It took over an hour for Annie to make her way to the hospital. She was shivering and her teeth were chattering. It was cold outside and she'd left her coat at home. A light misty rain began to fall as she neared the hospital. She wrapped her arms around herself and breathed a sigh of relief when the red lights over the emergency room door came into view.
She went to the reception desk and waited until the sandy-haired woman seated behind it looked up.
"May I help you?" the woman asked, frowning when she saw the bruise forming on Annie's cheekbone.
"Yes, please. I'm looking for someone. His name is Mitchell. He's a porter here. Please, it's really important that I find him," Annie pleaded as she tried hard to keep her voice from trembling.
The woman studied her for a moment. "Does he have a pretty face? Curly hair?"
Annie nodded as a shiver ran through her. She was so cold.
"His shift might be over, hon. He came in early today. I'll see if I can find him for you."
Annie watched as the woman picked up a phone and dialed a number. The woman spoke to someone and then dialed another number. Annie leaned against the desk as the ache in her ribs intensified. She needed to sit down.
The receptionist hung up the phone. "He's on his way here. Told him he was needed." She nodded toward the chairs in the waiting area. "Go have a seat over there. I'll send him your way when he comes down."
"Thank you," Annie managed through her chattering teeth. She moved slowly toward the chairs and lowered herself into the nearest one with a grunt of pain. Holding her wrist cradled against her, she closed her eyes for just a moment. She was so tired. It wouldn't hurt to rest for a minute.
"Annie," a voice called through her sleepy haze. "Annie, love, are you all right?"
A warm hand cupped her cheek bringing her to wakefulness. Annie opened her eyes and found Mitchell kneeling before her with concern for her stamped all over his face.
"Mitchell?" she croaked.
"Oh, Annie, you're soaking wet," he sighed. Then he froze as he caught a good look at her face. "What happened to your face, Annie? How did you get that bruise?" Mitchell fought to keep his anger under control.
"Owen," Annie admitted softly as she focused her gaze on his lap. "You were right about him, Mitchell."
Mitchell stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of her chair, anger radiating off of him in waves. "I'll kill him," he hissed.
"Mitchell, please," Annie begged, "I didn't know where to go and I hurt. Please, can I-?"
He cut her off by kneeling in front of her once again and taking her cold hands in his larger, warmer ones, watching as she flinched. "I'm so sorry, Annie. I'm being a jerk. Are you okay? Where did he hurt you? Should I call the police?"
"My wrist," she managed, "and my side, but no police, Mitchell, please." She was nearly pleading with him now.
Mitchell tenderly brushed her dark curls from her face. "Okay, no police for now, but you need to be seen by a doctor. I'll go get the paperwork for you to fill out, but first I'm finding a blanket and some coffee."
Annie nodded. "Thank you, Mitchell."
He gave her a small smile before he scurried through the double doors that led into the ER. He returned a few minutes later and wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders before handing her a cup of coffee. "Here you go, Annie. Let me get your paperwork from the desk."
It took a while to get her registered, but all of her information was in the system from her last emergency room visit. Mitchell hurried to his locker and changed before rushing back upstairs to sit with Annie as she waited for x-rays.
She sat stiffly on a gurney in a cubicle surrounded by a light blue curtain and pulled the pale green hospital gown tightly around her. Her teeth still chattered, whether from cold or shock Mitchell wasn't sure.
He settled in a chair beside her and slouched down trying to get comfortable.
Suddenly her eyes widened as she had a new thought. "Mitchell, what if Owen comes here?"
He sat up and reached for her good hand, squeezing it gently. "He will not touch you," he assured her. "I won't let him."
Annie chewed her lower lip nervously and her eyes scanned the people moving around the room. "I hate this. I hate feeling vulnerable and scared," she spat, looking up at the ceiling as she tried to blink the tears from her eyes.
Mitchell stood, but never let go of her hand. He used his free hand to thumb the tears from her face tenderly. "We all feel like that at some time or another. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
She sniffled. "Thanks," she nearly whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you before."
He shrugged. "I think you needed to discover what Owen was like for yourself, Annie," he replied.
"Maybe you're right," she told him. "Oh, what am I going to do?" Annie tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling again, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.
Mitchell cupped her face gently. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Just take it one step at a time, all right? Maybe come stay at my place tonight with me, George, and Nina. We have a spare room," he explained. "They won't mind a houseguest. Then tomorrow when you're thinking more clearly you can plan your next step."
Annie wrapped her fingers around his. "Are you sure it's all right?" she asked worriedly.
"I'm positive," he smiled, just as a porter arrived to take her for x-rays
To Be Continued…
