Conversations #11

A disjointed set of conversations that would've been fun/nice/endearing/helpful to see in the series…but we didn't.

Follows CANON only, generally references to conversations we never hear.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just speculatin'.

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Mitch looked around the cell. He was waiting. On Jonah. Again. Or maybe nobody bothered to tell the old fart this time. Getting' older--no. Old. Old. Slower. Weak. Lettin' Emily push him this way and that. Yeah, Chris was dead, but hell, he was still hurting. Chris was his best friend. And then Jake bailed. Chris died. Jake disappeared. Johnston made everything right for Jake, but what about Mitch? Four years. Four. In a prison barrack with 200 other guys who'd just as soon cut you as spit on you.

No privacy. No peace. Nothing but memories. And rage.

Footsteps on the tile, soft. Who is it now? Why did people have to try to sneak up on him. Not like they didn't know where he was. Kinda obvious, really.

"Why'd you do it?"

Mitch's head snapped up. He stared. This was the last person he had expected to talk to him. Ever.

"Emily?"

Irritation flashed in blue eyes and Emily shifted her head and weight. She didn't dignify his question. It was a stupid question.

Mitch gathered his wits. Damn, but that was bad. His voice had cracked, too. Fuck. No way to fix that. Time to play dumb, 'cause he really didn't want to go there.

"Why'd I do what?" Now for that little smirk--the one that got Jonah to narrow his eyes. Damn, but that same look on Emily was hot. Too bad Jonah would kill him if he tried to touch. Bet she was good. Wild. Mitch leaned back to lessen the growing pressure in a sensitive area. He hoped he didn't have an imprint of his zipper. He hated when that happened.

"Get my brother killed."

Ouch. That was not a good opener. Fuck. Oh, no. She was getting really mad. Hot--wild. Definitely. But just pissed? Bad. He'd seen the damage she could do, and he was willing to bet she was armed. With what, he didn't want to find out, but he was willing to bet. Her father had taught her, after all. She wouldn't admit it, but she had more of the old man in her than anyone suspected.

"I didn't get him killed--"

"Bullshit. You pushed him into it. Jonah didn't want Chris in the life, but you and Jake--damn you both."

She turned and walked away, boots not whispering on the industrial tile this time. The heels rang with each step. Glints of the steel at toes & heels. Damn, those would hurt. She had strong legs. Glad she hadn't had a key. Her voice had been uncompromising. Cold. He wanted to remember her hot. The promise of heat on a cold day, the glow of summer sun in the dark. Hot. Emily wasn't supposed to be cold. She was…she was…leaving. Without another word. No.

"Ask Jake!" Mitch called, desperate to get her back, to talk to her like he had so many years ago, when he and Chris were just the annoying kids she had to keep an eye on--when she was the golden goddess he worshipped and she would sometimes give him that smile. Yeah, she was older, and Jake was older still, but sometimes he had dreamed. "Ask Jake why Chris is dead! Or is he still a fuckin' coward?"

Emily didn't respond. Didn't turn. Didn't hear him--or pretended she didn't.

Bitch.

Mitch felt tired. It was a sudden, deep weariness that he'd felt more than once. Maybe he could stop what he was doing. Maybe he could go straight…

His eye caught the shadow of bars across his legs and he snarled softly at the reminder of his ways. Where he'd been. What he'd done, just to survive. That old apathy was taking over again. It wasn't fun to come into town and have people shy back from him, walk softly, talk in whispers. Not anymore. He didn't care, the way he hadn't cared when he and Chris had started doing some real work for Jonah, what? Had it been ten years ago? Twenty-six and already a felon, a lieutenant, and a scapegoat for the town. Like Jonah had been. Fuck these people. Let them starve. He'd get his, and whoever stuck with him would get his help.

Whoever stuck with him. Like Jonah. Well, maybe not. The old man was late. He was gettin' senile. It was time for a change in the leadership, and he knew just the man to take over.

If Emily was still pissed off at him for her brother's death, she was never going to forgive him for his next move. This time, though, he'd be guilty.

Fuck them all.

"She'll be comin' 'round the mountain when she comes…" he sang, letting his voice irritate, annoy, and worry those who were near enough to hear it.