Otherworlds
Pairing(s): George/ Nina, possible Mitchell/ Annie later.
Rating: M for swearing and violence. If you can watch the show, you can read this.
Disclaimer: All I own is the story. The characters belong to BBC Three and Toby Whithouse.
Summary: Mitchell, George and Nina know that getting Annie won't be easy, but when confronted by their own feelings, their own secrets and the strange wonders of the world, they aren't so sure if Annie should come back.
Author's notes: This is still a work in progress. More chapters to come.
Chapter Two: Mitchell.
Mitchell prowled around the house, trying to avoid the television, but in such a cramped cottage, there was only so much room. He just wanted to escape. No, that wasn't quite right. He wanted to kill someone, something, anything.
He wanted to rip something, drown something, kick something, destroy something, make someone bleed.
He slumped against the living room wall, staring at the television. He resisted the urge to go over and hit it repeatedly. What if Annie appeared to them again through it?
He wanted her back so badly. Perhaps then this agonising pain he felt in his chest would go away. The pain he'd felt as Annie had vanished into a black abyss had not entirely gone away. He was starting to suspect that it never would. Sometimes he barely noticed it, other times he was crumpled on the floor, gasping for breath that he technically didn't need.
The physical pain paled in comparison to knowing she wasn't not around, it hurt more than he thought was possible. Knowing she wasn't pottering around in the kitchen, making tea or coffee or cocoa. That she wouldn't be greeting him at the door excitedly when he got home, demanding to know every detail of his day.
He would probably never see her again.
The pain in his chest flared up again and he wrenched himself off the wall, retreating back to his room. There wasn't much in here, just a mattress and some books. Before walling him up in the room, George had taken everything else out.
The first three weeks were a bit of a daze. He remembered leaving the facility with George, but after that, it was a bit of a blur. He'd woken up in here and promptly gone mental.
Full of blood and rage, his entire being denied its sole purpose for existing, he'd spent days and nights writhing in agony. Fiery pain that went deep into his bones. His throat hoarse from screaming. Long scratches on his face where he'd clawed his skin. Deep bite marks down his arms from where he'd tried to rip his own body apart to taste something. He'd tried breaking out, but George had reinforced the door and boarded up the window. Cracks in the wall had appeared as he savagely slammed into them, plaster flaking down from the ceiling.
Being lucid wasn't any better. Remembering was probably worse. The pain of losing his friends and Ivan. Ivan who'd been willing to help him so he could be with Lucy. Lucy's betrayal. Daisy's misery and his fury as realisation set in. The train, god, the train. Those terrified people, the intoxicating scent of their fear, the taste of their blood. Those people at the facility. Ripping them apart had been so gratifying.
He hadn't cared as his humanity ebbed away with each life cut short.
Mitchell! I killed her! Your friend. I threw her over to the other side. Did you feel her go? Hmm? Did you? Did you hear her scream as she was ripped from the world? I want you to know pain. Like the families of your victims. I want you to know grief and rage as I did.
Kemp got his wish. Mitchell felt grief and rage.
Grief for Annie. Rage at himself. Which was worse? Hard to say.
He'd felt grief before. Living as long as he had, it was common enough. But for a vampire, it was fleeting. A moment's pause to acknowledge the death of a friend, pain faced and overcome. Then onwards into the next blood filled revelry. He didn't want that for Annie. He wanted to remember her.
He vaguely remembered being curled up on the floor, overcome with pain, begging. Not for the pain to go away, but for Annie to come back.
Some part of him had been ripped away, going with her through the door. There was just pain where Annie should have been.
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
But the rage...
Hey
It's the ghost.
Did you have a friend stay over?
I kissed you once, do you remember?
Yeah...sort of.
You know, sometimes I can hear you moving about in a different room and I just think about your body. Under those clothes. I think about your skin.
Wha... Mitchell! Stop it, shut up.
Do you want to kiss me again? Do you want to kiss me?
How many times had he replayed their last conversation over and over in his mind? How Mitchell hated himself for those cruel, mocking words. The last time he'd seen her, he'd threatened her, frightened her.
That was the worst thing. Knowing he'd scared her. Mitchell's eyes flashed black as he raged at himself.
The other day when George finally decided that it was safe enough to let him out, he'd set him down at the kitchen table and explained the situation. The small cottage in Fôrforwynllyn, a tiny village in Wales. Had to wait until the situation 'cooled down'. Temporary, George said, but he didn't seem to believe his own words. How could they go back to Bristol anyway? Bristol belonged to Annie.
Mitchell had just nodded, agreeing, but not really caring. He was past caring, too beaten and heartsick. He'd have to figure out a way to repay George for going through all this trouble for his sake.
At the moment he'd settle for calming Nina down. He was conscious of Nina's nervousness around him. Understandable, and he'd told himself that he'd do something to reassure her. What, he didn't know. But she had been so focused on her own self appointed task of tracking down Lucy, her own way of trying to make amends, to really bother with him. A few cautious words to each other and then they'd get to whatever they were doing.
But now Lucy was dead and Nina would want to find something new to do. Her life had been turned upside down too.
Mitchell sighed. He'd have to leave sooner or later. He'd have to find Daisy and Cara. Daisy was a little unhinged, but Cara was a stubborn follower. They would do what he had demanded of them. Could he stop them, if that was even possible now? Probably not.
They'd find him soon enough and no doubt Herrick would be with them.
His misery made him restless and Mitchell got up again and went into the kitchen. He stared out the window and could hear the howls of werewolves out in the forest. Just faintly. Wild animals, free of anguish that harassed humans constantly.
He sat down at the table and reached for a coffee mug. He didn't fill it with tea or coffee to drink. If Annie hadn't made it, then why bother? But he liked holding the mug, it was comforting.
He thought of the last few times he'd sat and had a cup of tea with her.
They often chatted late at night, when George was asleep. Mitchell didn't sleep much and Annie didn't sleep at all. Usually they'd read to each other, books and trashy magazines or they'd just watch movies.
Annie had read Twilight aloud to him over the course of six brain cell killing nights. Nearly every sentence made him roll his eyes, but Annie liked it. Thought it was romantic and sweet, though dammed if he could figure out why.
He'd grudgingly borrowed the DVD from the video shop for her, making sure that George never saw it or even knew about it. Skinny jeans were bad, but Twilight was far worse.
He'd sat beside her, thoroughly unenthusiastic as they watched it, Annie squealing over the cuteness of the actors. He'd made a disdainful comment about the male lead needing to brush his hair and Annie had tartly pointed out that he could hardly comment on someone else's hair, yanking on a strand of his own ragged hair for emphasis.
The resulting argument over the prettiness of his hair had ended up with him sulkily agreeing to take her to see the next movie.
They'd been alone in the house, George having moved out. She'd handed him a cup of coffee which he absentmindedly accepted, his mind elsewhere, focused on his other problems.
"When can we see New Moon?"
He'd looked up, a deer trapped in headlights. "What?"
"On, come on. You promised you'd take me to see it when George moved out." She batted her eyelashes at him. "Pleeeeeease?"
"Do I have to?"
"Yes." She used puppy dog eyes next, shamelessly manipulating him.
"Can I at least complain about it?"
"Only if you eat popcorn."
"What? But I hate popcorn!"
"You can't go to the movies and not have popcorn." Scandalised.
He'd set the mug down, determined to win this argument. "I'll take you to see the movie. I'll have a packet of chips. That's my final offer. Take it or leave it."
She leaned back, cocky. "You take me to see the movie. You can have chips. Only if you watch Twilight with me before we go to the cinema."
"Oh hell no. Not again. No."
She grinned broadly. "Then have the popcorn."
"No."
"I'll tell George where we're going."
"... Fine, I'll have the bloody popcorn."
I have to go...but please... don't forget me, will you?
No.
He'd never get to take her to see the stupid sparkly vampire movie now. Thinking of that last true conversation with her, before he'd gone on a bloody rampage and somehow managed to change everything... Mitchell buried his face in his arms and sobbed.
***
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Chapter Three: George will be posted soon.
