Fireworks

It was mid-afternoon now and Mitchell had just returned home after seeing Evelyn off for her trip. He'd have the place to himself for a couple days, which to most people would be liberating, but all it did for him was slow time down. He decided to use this opportunity to finally ring Annie before it got too late in Australia. He took a seat at the kitchen table before dialing.

First Annie did as he suspected, which was scold him for waiting so long to call. But there was barely a moment's pause before she went on to bombard him with every single wedding detail he was pretty sure not even Cedric cared about. Well, not that Mitchell didn't care, per say...he was beyond happy for Annie. But when she began gabbling on about colors he'd never heard of before in his life and blubbering over the difficult decision between lace and silk on her dress, she lost him. He started to take quite an interest in a stain on the kitchen table before Annie finally changed topics.

Mitchell brought her up to speed on the last few weeks. He hadn't realized just how much had happened in such a short period of time, but it seemed with each day his life was brought on by new challenges. He was blatantly honest with her about everything, even up to the whole...'love' debacle he got himself into, and the importance of birthdays.

Annie sighed on the other line. "Oh, Mitchell...I feel like this is typical you to get into these sorts of situations. Well, except for...love. That's new."

"Annie, you're not helping." He muttered, subconsciously biting his nails.

"Right." She paused in thought; phone silence was usually a bad sign. "As for the whole love position you're in, I can't really give you any advice on that except to take advantage of Evelyn's absence. I agree with her that it might take some distance to realize your actual feelings for her. And don't be afraid to tell her you're not ready to say it yet, it's better than lying to her and getting her hopes up."

"That's a lot of advice for not having any advice." He teased, grinning. He really missed Annie. "And what should I do about her birthday? I can't recall the last time I celebrated one of mine. I was probably...I don't know, twenty?" He gestured his hand in the air as if he were having a lively conversation with someone in front of him.

Annie cackled. "Make it special for her...but make it your special, not anything, you know, overdone or...just don't go spending your life savings on fireworks or pop out of a giant birthday cake." She sounded flustered as if she were vividly recalling a past experience.

Mitchell frowned. "Who does that?"

"I don't know, Australian soap operas. They're mad. But anyway, I think Evelyn deserves just a normal, happy celebration of her life. If that was something I could celebrate, I would jump at the chance. Who knows when the last time she had that opportunity was." Annie said this with more enthusiasm and less sadness than he would have expected out of her, but he knew this was because she was at a comfortable period in her life. She was genuinely happy with her situation. Annie used to be in a similar position when she seemed to have been forgotten about when she had died, until she had met Mitchell and George and became the best of friends with them.

"She told me it was some time before her dad died. So...something like eight years." He said, leaning back in his chair. They'd been on the phone for two hours by now, their ideas ranging from tea parties (Annie's idea) and filling the entire house with balloons (Mitchell's idea).

"That's a dreadfully long time. Alright, I'm coming!" She shouted, presumably to Cedric. "Alright deary, it's nighty time for me, we have our cake tasting in the morning. HA! Who am I kidding? We're only pretending to taste it; we're bringing some new friends with us so they can be our assistant tastebuds." She guffawed at the thought of eating once more before wishing Mitchell good night and good luck.

Mitchell grinned and rolled his eyes, "good night, Annie." He hung the phone back up, sighing as he looked around for things to do. He refused to have another go at Atticarius; he was still hurting from yesterday and if Evelyn came back to an abandoned house...well, he just needed to wait.

Before he could take another step, his phone was buzzing in his hand once more. Annie. He picked up, but didn't expect what came next.

"Oh, and Mitchell...", Annie sighed before there was another awkward-phone-pause. "When I said make it special for her, what I wanted to say was...given her situation...I don't mean to pressure you, just-" Mitchell was getting impatient with anticipation.

"Annie. Just spit it out." He said, picking idly at the chipped paint on the wall he was now leaning against.

Annie hesitated. "It's a tricky disease, cancer. It can be as mild as ever and in a few months it could come back more deadly. I know I'm not speaking from any personal experience, just that I've lived in this world long enough to see how fragile mortality is." She took a breath as if she had been holding it in this whole time. "Basically what I'm getting at is, try to make every day special for her. You never know how many more birthdays she's going to have." Her voice dropped a level; clearly she was unsure how Mitchell would react.

Mitchell closed his eyes. It wasn't a conversation he had expected to surface, nor a topic he had even acknowledged. He just treated Evelyn as less of a victim of an illness and more of a person with just as much life to her, if not more than most, but burdened with a unique hardship. In fact, recently he began to forget she was even sick. Tagging along to treatments, assisting her with certain tasks she found impossible at her most vulnerable, and helping her recover from all of the above were as normal as breathing to him at this point. Sometimes for someone to bring the issue to his attention was just as ghastly as the first time he learned of Evelyn's illness.

Mitchell swallowed. "You don't need to worry about any of that. She's not going to live a life at all if she is constantly reminded that she is sick." Needless to say, it wasn't a conversation Mitchell was willing to have, so he and Annie kindly said their goodnights to each other and hung up. He knew Annie was looking out for his best interest, but was never one known to be patient with lectures.

The next day was followed by Mitchell pacing throughout each room of the house for inspiration.

That's when he really thought about what Annie said. Make it special for her, she had said. Mitchell scratched his chin in thought, mentally rearranging and decorating the house. No bursting out of cakes, fireworks were out of the question whether Evelyn would have wanted them or not. Rather, he had a more simplistic idea that was not only within his range of talent, but something that wouldn't be so overwhelming the next time Evelyn walked in the door.

He stepped into the kitchen, and the next thing he did was completely voluntary yet still took him by surprise: he slipped on a pair of marigolds. He was just thankful no one else was here to witness such a spectacle, and he would definitely be keeping this tidbit far, far away from Annie. Once he managed to create some sort of cleaning solution concoction, he got to work.

It had been so long since he last gave this place a proper clean, and he was disgusted by the thick dust pile that he removed from the windows alone. His face twisted in disgust at how long this was going to take. He popped a couple pain-relieving pills first, because there was no way he would accomplish anything with his back in the condition it was.

For the next several hours, he mopped, scrubbed, dusted, hand-washed, soaked, and vacuumed the floors, walls, windows, doors, counters, tables...everything he could think of, in every room. Originally this began as a small project just to make preparations for Evelyn's birthday surprise, but once he got into cleaning mode he couldn't stop himself. However, now his back was massively protesting and his other wounds weren't exactly cooperating with him either, so he decided he was finished.

He slowly descended onto the couch, running a hand through his hair and allowing his muscles to relax. Silence. It smelled and sparkled like a brand new flat, and now he wouldn't have to worry about cleaning it again for the next ten years. He then had an idea as he ascended the stairs a bit sluggishly and walked into Evelyn's room to scout out ideas. She didn't own many material things, so it was difficult to draw inspiration in that field. He was about to give up until his eyes landed on the small photo frames of her parents on her dresser.

He walked over to them and picked up the one that had she and her parents in it together. It looked as though it took place in a snowy mountain range, the entire family bundled up in cold-weather gear. Their smiles were radiant. Evelyn's cheeks were brushed a bright pink from the cold – she couldn't have been more than fifteen years old in this photograph. He would enlarge it for her to serve as a reminder that her parents would be immensely proud of her had they been alive today.

With that, he spent the next several hours writing a list of possibilities and bad ideas in front of the telly in hopes that something would come on to encourage him. If anything, it provided him with a 'do-not-do' list, which consisted of strippers (or stripping), poems (George's...'strong suit'), and food fights because that would only piss off the birthday girl and ruin the three hours she spent trying to look decent for the day.

Mitchell sighed with a groan and thudded his forehead against the table. Maybe he needed to watch more television aimed at female audiences, but those only exaggerated actual life by a hundred as Annie stated. It was midnight by now and he had another full day like this ahead of him before Evelyn would be home. He would need a plan by tomorrow, so he decided today defeated him and that would go to bed and hopefully dream up an idea.

–

The following day, Mitchell spent a few more hours adding to his list of possible theories before he settled on something...subtle. Subtle. "It's just subtle". He stared blankly at the wall as realization struck. He swallowed and broke free from his trance; Evelyn would be home after dark and he had yet to get a move on.

Once home, he strategically placed all the candles around the room; on shelves, in shelves, on tables, anywhere with a flat surface. He stuck her new photo in an old frame of his and left it beside the original photo; he thought this could be a more private gift in which he didn't need to be present for. He finished tidying up the house again before whipping out a probably-dated phone book from one of the kitchen drawers, looking for the first Chinese restaurant he could find. He had no idea what he was saying, let alone ordering, as he placed a delivery ahead of time to arrive later. He'd remembered the first time they had shared Chinese food together, in which he nearly ate his plate along with the food, but for all he knew he could have ordered a dozen fungi.

He walked over to the shelf where the record player sat and fingered through the thick stack of albums, his brows furrowed in thought. He settled for Tom Jones, an old favorite of his, and prepared it beneath the needle.

He had one last idea that he was hoping would go over better than he expected. He rang Evelyn's phone, knowing she wouldn't be able to answer, as it went straight to her voicemail.

"Hey! So, something came up, some old mates of mine are in town and it's been years since I've last seen 'em. I guess they're only staying the night before they leave again, so I don't think I'm gonna be here tonight. But I promise I will make it up to you and we'll, uh...we'll do something fun. Okay...talk later. Bye." His face scrunched in anxiousness of how she would take that – he either was about to make this whole thing that much more surprising to her, or she would just end up not turning up at all. In which he would kick himself in the arse for days.

Lastly, he fixed up his hair before heading to his room and shoved himself in his closet, pulling out a deep navy blue suit. It would sort of be the icing on the cake; he couldn't very well make all this effort and not look presentable.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd worn a suit. It had to have been in the 70's but luckily his body hadn't changed much since so it still fit him snugly. He nipped and tucked at it here and there, feeling content now. It was about a half hour until Evelyn would be home, and the sun was nearly below horizon now. He headed downstairs and began to light all the candles – there had to be 50 of them – and turned the remaining lights off. He began to wonder if this was a wasted effort; what if she was utterly gutted by his message and decided to avoid him?

Just as he began to overthink, he heard the sound of a car door outside.

"Shit!" He hissed to himself, finishing the final candle before he scurried to the record player and quickly set the needle so that it began playing quietly. He leapt over to stand a bit away from the front door, exhaling as he heard the rattling of a key in the door.

When Evelyn walked over the threshold, it actually took her a moment to realize Mitchell was standing just a few feet from her and there was music playing. She had a white bandana tied around her head and was wearing a black lace dress which flowed loosely below her waist and bore a sweetheart neckline.

She slowly looked up, nearly jumping out of her skin when she saw Mitchell standing there, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. She felt a million emotions all at once, taking in the candles which set a relaxing mood, the music, Mitchell...who looked so different yet the same.

"I thought...?" She began, slowly letting her bag fall to the floor.

Mitchell grinned and shook his head. "Happy birthday, darlin'." He muttered, walking over to her and extending his hand to her.

Of course now she couldn't hide her smile even if she wanted to; she was just glad it was dark enough to conceal her rosy cheeks. She happily took his hand as he led her just a few feet over into the open space of the main room, placed his other hand at the small of her back, and slowly began to sway with her.

Evelyn stared up at him in complete awe; so many unbelievable things were happening so closely together, she didn't even know where to start in figuring out how all this came about. But rather than question him, she just let herself enjoy it while it was happening. Mitchell gently rested his forehead against hers. For a long time, longer than either of them had even remembered, they remained this way in comfortable silence.

"Thank you." She whispered finally, closing her eyes. She not only meant it for this particular instance, but for everything he had ever done for her.

Mitchell stared down at her face, specifically on the freckles that he so loved. He brought his hand that was in hers and joined it with his other around her waist. She locked her arms loosely around his neck.

There was a knock on the door which made them both jump. Mitchell had completely forgotten about the food.

"Who is it?" She asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Your dinner. The problem is I don't know what I ordered." He reluctantly untied himself from her and greeted the delivery man at the door, who placed a mighty large brown bag in his arms. He didn't remember ordering quite this much.

He headed into the kitchen with Evelyn just behind him. As he opened the bag, he pulled out one large container; it was bigger than his head. He frowned. It was the only box in the bag. He pulled back the flaps, read the note inside that read 'Enjoy your meal... x Atti'.

And several things occurred all at once.

His eyes recognized the metal object beneath the note with a digital screen that was flashing tauntingly at him. He turned on his heel, grabbed Evelyn's arm and sprinted for the door before there was a massive explosion just as Mitchell was pulling it open.

Smoke, fire and debris were swirling angrily about them. Mitchell winced as the impact had left him flattened to the floor, and he couldn't open his eyes due to the polluted air. The sweltering heat from the fire around them caused him to sweat profusely. He army crawled along the floor, staying as low as he could, as he reached his arm around for Evelyn who was somewhere beside him in a fetal position, cradling the side of her head with her eyes squeezed shut. The adrenaline pumping through both of them was too severe to recognize any pain yet.

"Evelyn! Where are you? Give me your hand." He forced an eye open as pieces of the building began toppling over them. He groped around the room before he finally found her elbow, which he grasped and began tugging her toward him.

She complied, unable to speak from the shock of the explosion and the fumes polluting her lungs. Although he couldn't see much, he knew outside was only a few feet away. He hunched and brought Evelyn up in his arms before leading her to the front porch, where the smoke was billowing out onto. Once they reached fresh oxygen, they both began coughing excessively. When Mitchell finally got a good look behind him, he realized there wasn't much left to the house at all. It was all in shambles.

Neighbors began filling the streets and sidewalks to inspect what had just happened. Mitchell coughed up a chunk of black debris and spit it on to the ground as he led Evelyn further from the burning building and across the street. She was still pampering one side of her head, and Mitchell noticed streaks of blood peeping through the hand holding it.

"Shit, we need to get you to the hospital." He said to her, but she could barely hear him. Her ear was doused in blood and her other ear was ringing from the blast. Mitchell began to panic; he knew that the location of her injury was bad enough without the threat of her body's inability to clot blood.

Within minutes, all emergency personnel had arrived and surrounded the building whilst removing the gaping people away from the vicinity, including Mitchell and Evelyn.

The medical personnel began examining the both of them, in which Mitchell freed himself from them. "I'm fine, I'm fine. She needs immediate attention, take her." He gently pushed Evelyn in the direction of a paramedic who quickly ushered her to the nearest ambulance. Evelyn looked over her shoulder at Mitchell in protest, but he turned his back and headed in the opposite direction.

He had something else in mind that he needed to do.

He ran as fast as he possibly could in the direction of the vampire quarters he'd only just been in. His back was still in immense pain, but the thought of ripping Atticarius' head off was distracting enough to not think about it. His suit was ripped and tattered in places, but he didn't care. He didn't stop until he reached the metal staircase – by now the full moon was high up in the sky. He mentally asked George, wherever he was, to assist him in what he was about to do.

Mitchell burst through the door with his bleeding hands, striding without incident down the corridor path and into the massive room. Moonlight was spilling in through the high windows; several faces turned to meet his. Some of them backed away, others stood frozen. There were definitely less of them here than last time.

"Who did it?!" Mitchell shouted, his shoulders tense and his arms out at his side as he made his rounds around the room, staring each vampire in the eyes as he did so.

"Where is he?!" he continued along the concrete floor, but there was no sign of Atticarius let alone a whiff of him. The room was silent; when last he was here they had all been jumping at the chance to have a go at him. Mitchell's mouth hung open, panting, looking for his antagonist.

Once he reached the end of the room, he turned around to face all the pale faces staring back at him. Some of them fled through the door in which he came; they were likely new to this lifestyle and hadn't quite learned how to defend themselves yet. Mitchell was still relatively infamous for his past crimes, though less so than ten years ago.

Mitchell shoved open the door that led to the experiment lab, but it had been cleared out. It was obvious to him that this was Atticarius' plan B. He knew if Mitchell survived, that he'd come looking for him, so Atticarius left and took his test subjects and most precious mates with him.

Mitchell began pacing the main room again, this time a bit slower and with more malice. A sly grin was plastered on his face, his head bowed as he peered at them all beneath his furrowed brows. Deep shadows were cast over his eyes.

"So he ran. Just like the coward that he is. He can dish it but he can't take it, no." He called to his audience, looking to his left and right as he did so. His eyes locked on a vampire who he remembered from last time. This man looked frightened of Mitchell as he slowly began backing up against the wall behind him. Mitchell confronted him and in one swift movement, gripped his hand around the man's neck before he could dart out of his corner.

Mitchell looked around him; not one person volunteered to help their friend. Mitchell's grin only grew wider. "It's odd, isn't it? I seem to recall the last time I was here and I was being defiled by your leader, all of you would have jumped at the chance to have your turn." He slowly padded back into the middle of the room, the man still grasped in his hand. The man was making grunting noises, though Mitchell was only holding him tight enough so that his air supply was only slightly cut off. He didn't actually mean to hurt him, unless he made an attempt to do so to Mitchell.

"So where is he, the bastard, huh? Answer me or I swear to God I will tear his head clean off his spine." Mitchell spat when nobody attempted to answer him.

A small black-haired woman finally piped up, her voice small. "H-he's gone, sir. He's left for the Quarter Isle."

Mitchell turned to stare at her, giving her a chance to redact her statement had she been lying to him. It seemed he intimidated her enough for her to speak the truth. "What is that? Where is that?" He demanded, stepping closer to her. The strangest part about this woman was that she was a mere human, and yet still alive in this room full of blood-thirsty vampires.

She balked until Mitchell quickened his pace toward her, in which she pinned herself against a stone pillar in his presence. "I-in the Isle of Wight, sir. It's his main headquarters; this is only t-temporary." The woman's voice was naught but a squeak now, and it was obvious that sharing this information was going to get her killed as she would likely be told on by her counterparts.

Mitchell squeezed his eyes together, trying to remember how far this was from them, though he knew it was too far to get to tonight. He would have to find another time. Had he not smelled the fear on her, he would have assumed she was lying to him. He released the man he'd been holding; he wasn't going to kill any of them. Most of them were naïve and hadn't a clue what they were getting themselves into.

"If he should return before my next visit...tell him I was here." He ordered, his voice low and grumbly. "If I were you I would leave the city tonight. He won't recognize who he left behind and who he took with him; you're only his puppets."

And with that, he exited the building and made his way to the hospital. He checked himself in after receiving several stares at his condition, but he paid no attention to them. His blood was still boiling; he had no intentions of letting Atticarius live after tonight. His only wish was that he could have fulfilled this tonight.

When he found Evelyn's room number, he walked in despite a nurse attempting to stop him. He probably looked like a crazed man to her who was going to hijack her patient. There was nobody in the room with Evelyn, who was sitting in a hospital bed with a thick bandage wrapped securely around her ear. She had patches of black debris on her exposed skin. Evelyn looked up to see who had entered her room, only to see Mitchell's sorrow-filled face staring back at her. His face softened, and the built-up rush of adrenaline was rushing to his brain and his stomach and he felt sick.

He walked to her, sat at the edge of her bed and planted a kiss on her forehead, examining her condition as thoroughly as he could. "I am so sorry." His voice cracked with sincerity. He had brought her into this life.

Evelyn shook her head at him, upset that he would even think about apologizing for what had happened. "Stop it, you did nothing wrong." She gently pushed him back so that she could get a good look at him. It was difficult to differentiate the wounds from Atticarius versus tonight's; a few cuts on his face and hands looked fresh, but otherwise his clothes were covering everywhere else. Had anyone else been in his place, they probably would have bled to death in the last twenty-four hours.

"What's happened to your ear?" He asked, staring at the white lumpy bandage stained in red. His stomach turned upside down.

"They aren't sure yet. They said I've lost a lot of blood. Where did you go, anyway?" She subconsciously played with the bed sheet in her lap. Her voice was muddled and her head pounding.

Mitchell debated on whether or not he should tell her. He hadn't done anything wrong, in human terms, but he wanted to. Would that be enough to scare her off? Would it be a selfish act to keep it to himself? "I, uh...I went to find this...Atticarius fellow." That was an easy enough explanation, he felt.

Evelyn made a half-nod, but it was obvious she either didn't understand or she wasn't biting. "And what were you expecting to accomplish?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Just wanted to take care of some business, that's all."

"You say that as if it were the simplest resolution in the world. You were going to kill him, weren't you?" Her expression went from placid to worried.

Mitchell hurriedly looked around the room for any listening ears. "We can't have anybody hearing us." He sighed and threw his head back, closing his eyes. "I was maybe going to hurt him a little. But I wouldn't have cried if he wound up more dead than he is already."

Evelyn stared at his profile for a minute. She couldn't even picture him killing anyone...she couldn't even picture him hurting anyone. "I know I've said this before, but this is what they want, Mitchell. They're instigating you and they won't stop until you end up back with them or until you're...dead on the street or something. How can I see this and you can't?" Her brows arched with worry.

He thought about this; he didn't know what he knew. It was a tricky situation because it was extremely difficult, nearly impossible, to sit back and take the harassment and let them get away from it without persecution. It was only in his nature to retaliate, especially after what had happened with George. It was a never-ending grudge he would likely keep forever, or until he was at least able to avenge his death.

"I don't know why I feel like I have to be the one to end it. I just...I just do." He began rubbing his sore forehead in frustration. "This has been going on for over half my life, this vicious cycle. There's a leader, he finds out what I've done only to discover I'm dry, they try to lure me back or threaten to kill me, but eventually they die first. Then it happens again with someone new. I can't even count on one hand how long this has been happening." He was exasperated. It was hard to explain and frankly, he didn't expect her to fully understand. She could try, but unless she was in his shoes, she wouldn't get it.

Evelyn could read the pain in his face alone and she wondered how awful it was so be him sometimes when he dealt with these situations. She drew a long breath. "How about we just try to get some sleep and we'll start to figure out everything in the morning?" She whispered, inching over so that he would have room. By now she had changed into a loaned pair of hospital scrubs.

Mitchell was happy to drop the subject for now. What he needed to focus on was that their home was very likely lost, and they needed a temporary stay until they knew it could be fixed or they found a new flat. He slid himself beside Evelyn, wrapping his arms around her small frame as she curled up beside him and pulled up the blankets to their shoulders.

Mitchell wasn't sure he'd get much rest tonight.